Throughout history, philosophers have sought to understand the nature of true
knowledge and how to achieve it. Most believe that true knowledge is acquired
empirically, and not latent in our minds from birth. In Plato’s Meno, Socrates
argues in favour of the pre-natal existence of knowledge, the opposite of this
proposal: that knowledge is essentially latent, and is brought to light through
questioning. The erisitic paradox, which stems from this view of knowledge,
states that if you know what it is you are inquiring about, you need not
inquire, for you already know. If, however, you do not know what it is you are
inquiring about, you are unable to inquire, for you do not know what it is into
which you are inquiring. One consequence of this view is Plato’s rejection of
empiricism, the claim that knowledge is derived from sense experience. However,
when one examines the scene in the Meno between Socrates and the slave boy in
greater depth, one can see the flaws in this paradox. Plato uses Socrates’
experiment, in which he draws one of Meno’s slaves out from the gathered crowd
and proceeds to demonstrate the theory of recollection using geometry; however,
this experiment’s purpose tests the credulity of the reader; and in some cases
Socrates’ questions are blatantly leading. Socrates merely places obvious
propositions in front of the boy that can be immediately recognised. Also,
contrary to what Plato asserts, knowledge can be obtained by other means, and
not exclusively through intellectual inquiry and questioning. It is far too
difficult to dismiss, as Plato does, any and all claims or assertions about the
physical or visible world, including both common-sense observations and the
propositions of science, as mere opinions. Furthermore, the interpretation of
the experiment with the slave boy can be expanded to suggest yet another
position: that Plato is demonstrating the flawed nature of sophistry by showing
that what on the surface appears to be Socratic dialectic is really Sophistic
practice. In light of all of these factors, it becomes clear that the eristic
paradox is, in fact, flawed. In the experiment, Socrates guides a slave through
a series of geometric proofs in an effort to illustrate that the slave already
possessed this knowledge and, therefore, that “learning” is not acquisition
but recollection. Plato maintains that the slave is simply recalling knowledge
learned in a former incarnation. The main question that enters the reader’s
mind regarding the experiment with the slave boy is the role of Socrates, and
how he facilitates the slave boy’s production of the answer; that is, how he
‘teaches’ him. Among the myriad of different possibilities by which Socrates
achieved this teaching, only four are plausible, and of these only two appear
realistic enough to be considered in the scope of this essay. The first
possibility is that Socrates played no role at all in helping the slave boy
produce the answer. This possibility must be rejected because there is no way
the series of questions and answers, both correct and incorrect, could not have
been of importance in helping the boy find the correct answers. The second
possibility is that Socrates merely engaged in “mental midwifery,” bringing
to light the knowledge which was latent in the boy’s mind. This is what Plato
would like us to believe. However, this would also mean believing in the
ante-natal existence of the human psyche, meaning the boy had already learned
this information in another life. This would also mean that the erisitic paradox
would have been a problem in the other life; if learning is not possible for us
now, it would not have been possible in a previous life. The third possibility,
however, is one that most tend to believe: that Socrates taught the boy the
answers, and that the boy believed him due to Socrates’ authority. This
possibility appears plausible because the boy seems to be inclined to accept
Socrates’ every word. Even though we can see that the boy does not agree
simply because Socrates presents him with a proposition, the logical and visual
nature of geometry allows it to be understood without prior knowledge of the
subject. If, say, biology were used instead of geometry, the slave boy would
have had little chance in recognising the correct answer. He also would not have
been able to see why any incorrect answers were incorrect, and therefore would
have been forced to rely on authority. In the case of geometry, though, this is
not true: correct answers can be recognised by someone who had not previously
been exposed to them. This brings us to the fourth possibility explaining
Socrates’ role: that Socrates placed obvious truths before the boy, which he
could recognise on sight. In this case, though, one must ask how the boy, who
did not have any prior familiarity with the matter, was able to recognise these
geometric proofs. We must believe that the slave boy, in a way, already
possessed the answers somewhere in his mind, otherwise the boy could not have
confidently realised that the suggested answer is right and the others wrong.
Even though Socrates’ questions are indeed blatantly leading, we must believe
that the boy says yes to the correct answers not merely to please Socrates, but
because he sees that it is the obvious answer. It is easier to believe this when
recognising the right answers requires only ordinary intelligence, as in this
case. Furthermore, what aids the boy in seeing the right answers and realising
his incorrect answers are incorrect are Socrates’ diagrams. As such, though
not geometrically accurate, they accurately represent the ideas and concepts
Socrates tries to put forth. The process of Socratic refutation or elenchus is a
method of teaching that, according to Socrates, is supposed to clear away the
arrogance of false knowledge and instil the urge to learn as a consequence of
recognising one’s own ignorance. This method came about as the result of
Socrates’ belief that knowledge cannot be obtained by empirical means: that
knowledge essentially comes only from logical deduction. According to Plato,
“knowledge will not come from teaching but from questioning.” (85d) Though
it is Plato that discovers the existence of a priori knowledge: essentially, any
knowledge that has not been acquired by experience and is latent in one’s
mind. However, he makes the oversight of applying this concept to all knowledge
in general. This means the dismissal of any and all propositions made concerning
the physical or visible world, including both common-sense observations and
scientific data, as opinions only. Science, naturally, has long since proven
otherwise: the quality of life in our society rests on the application of the
empirical findings made by science. If the gathering of these empirical findings
cannot be called learning and the existence of these findings in our minds
cannot be classified as knowledge, then what can? Drafting, for example, is a
skill that one must learn in school from a teacher. In order to put these
drafting skills to use, one needs to use knowledge acquired from the teacher.
Another example would be the physical gathering of genetic material, a process
as complex as its name suggests. The successful execution of this process is
achieved under controlled laboratory conditions by technicians who need to under
and follow certain steps in a certain order so as to facilitate an accurate DNA
fingerprint. The very concept of DNA, let alone the process of genetic
fingerprinting, is one that is the result of our accumulation of vast amounts of
empirical, scientific knowledge. Socrates may well have been able to teach a
slave boy basic geometric proofs using representative drawings in the sand, but
the teaching of any other subject stemming from the acquisition of empirical
data would have required the passing on of knowledge that could not possibly
have been ‘recalled’ by the boy. The boy would have had no way of
recognising the answer even if Socrates had devised a method of “mental
midwifery” for such a subject. The fact is, no matter what method Socrates
used, there is no way that such a topic can be taught by means of the Socratic
elenchus. The traditional interpretation of the conversation between Socrates
and the slave boy (81e-86c) states that the conversation expounds Plato's belief
that knowledge can be ‘recollected’. The validity of this point is put into
question by the suggestion of a very different position: that Socrates'
blatantly leading questions, while superficially exemplifying a Socratic
dialectic, actually display an example of sophistry. The kinds of responses
Socrates elicits are merely factual and come about from empirical demonstration
rather than from rational means. The slave boy is only marginally perceptive;
not only is he not trying to seek truth, he always responds affirmatively. These
concerns overlap and are better explained by recalling the text of the
experiment with the slave boy. In the scene (81e-86c), Socrates draws one of
Meno's slaves out from the gathered crowd. He then proceeds to demonstrate the
Theory of Recollection (and ultimately the erisitic paradox) by showing that all
nature is interconnected such that if one learns one point, it is possible to
‘recover’ all of the rest. Yet, if the dialectic is reread in light of
sophistic procedures and the narrowly focused content, the scene offers a new
point: with Socrates’ part edited out, the dialectic demonstrates sophistry.
If one reads all of the slave boy’s lines, one sees that the slave boy never
disagrees. The answers Socrates elicits are specific, data-oriented
("eight," "four," "double," etc.) and are factual.
He seeks dimensions and measurements, and while the example is a theorem,
Socrates reduces theorizing to a practical answer-giving exercise based on
empirical drawings in the sand. As a result, Socrates demonstrates the limits of
sophistry: because we now perceive the dialectic as being questionable in
intent, we must also look at Plato’s belief that all knowledge can be
recollected in a questioning light. Recollection is the reminiscence of prior
and personal experience. When Socrates attempts to demonstrate the Theory of
Recollection, he says to Meno of the slave boy, "Observe, Meno, the stage
he has reached on the path of recollection. At the beginning he did not know the
side of the square of eight feet. Nor indeed does he know it now, but then he
thought he knew it and answered boldly, as was appropriate — he felt no
perplexity. Now however he does feel perplexed. Not only does he not know the
answer; he doesn’t even think he knows." (84a-b). This sentence touches
on the eristic paradox, but it also contains an important irony typically
overlooked; this irony of the section is illustrative of sophistry. Socrates has
as his subject a slave boy. The "confident answer" to which Socrates
refers is the same kind of confidence a primary school student would have when
he or she affirmatively responds to leading questions about geometric proofs.
Not only is there no personal interest on the part of the boy, and hence no
recollection, but there is such an emphasis on empirical demonstration of
technical characteristics that those whom Socrates is "persuading" are
too set in sophistic ways to see the problems inherent therein. It is possible
that the slave boy realizes that he doesn't know, which clears his mind of any
predisposition that would hinder true learning. His state is one in which he may
now be persuaded; as such, Socrates can now "lead" to questions which,
when repeated, define the search for knowledge. Indeed, the mark of sophistry,
as demonstrated by the experiment, is that the form is present in the material,
not in the boy. A slave to Meno, the boy is also a slave to the material. Thus,
the boy actually illustrates the limitation of sophistry: because sophists do
not have cleared minds, they ask the kinds of questions that presuppose specific
answers. Despite his ostensibly narrow views of what knowledge is and how it can
be acquired, Plato must be given considerable credit for disguising Socratic
dialectic as Sophistic practice, giving us yet another interpretation of the
experiment with the slave boy. However, Plato still makes the mistake of
discrediting any experience or empirical data as not having the form of what he
defines as knowledge; he claims that ‘true knowledge’ can be obtained only
through questioning and merely thinking. The experiment, too, tests the faith of
the reader: in order to believe Socrates’ assertions regarding the experiment,
one must believe in the reincarnate existence of knowledge in the human mind.
Socrates attempts to show that, if one masters one point, ‘recalling’ the
remaining points is then possible. Plato’s rejection of empiricism is the
result of the eristic paradox, which in essence, says that we never actually
learn anything — this, in turn, accounts for Plato’s belief in the
ante-natal existence of knowledge. However, this concept of knowledge — both
the eristic paradox and the concept of pre-natal knowledge — are disproved by
simple examination of the application of acquired empirical knowledge in our
society. Thus, both the eristic paradox and the concept of pre-natal knowledge
are ultimately flawed.