Teaching and Learning > DISCOURSE

Undergraduate Philosophy and the Corruption of the Youth

Author: Peter Rogers

Journal Title: Discourse

ISSN: 2040-3674

ISSN-L: 1741-4164

Volume: 6

Number: 2

Start page: 185

End page: 203

Return to vol. 6 no. 2 index page

Introduction

In Plato's dialogue Euthyphro, Meletus accuses Socrates of corrupting the Athenian youth. The basis for his accusation is that Socrates is undermining the traditional values of Athenian society. Socrates describes what Meletus accuses him of as follows:

He [Meletus] claims I'm a manufacturer of gods, and he says this is why he's prosecuted me, that I create new gods and don't recognise the old ones.1

In the trial of Socrates (portrayed in Apology), Socrates appears to go no way to refuting this accusation. Indeed his behaviour seems to reinforce that accusation by respecting his own authority (and his own god) more than the authority of the courts. With regard to Socrates' behaviour at the trial, Harold Tarrant asks,

What kind of example was it to the young men of the city to be showing a respect of the authority of the courts which was less than the respect for a God which he, as an individual, believed was speaking to him? Could they not make appeals to their own private religious ideas, and exempt themselves from the authority of the democratic institutions too? Socrates' very conduct in court could be taken as proof that his conduct in general promoted insubordination and a lack of respect for any authority.2

Given that Socrates is held to be an exemplar of the philosophical attitude, could the teaching of undergraduate philosophy also be tantamount to corrupting the youth in precisely the same way? After all undergraduate philosophy questions all of the fundamental beliefs and assumptions that ground Western culture, and then attempts to replace these old 'gods' with the new 'god' of the power of the students' own reasoning and, therefore, his or her personal authority. Thus, an undergraduate philosophy student will be led to question the traditional view on god, morality, and values. Indeed, they will be pushed further to question the very reality of the fabric of the universe and whether we can really know anything at all.

Consequently, it seems correct to conclude that undergraduate philosophy is likely to promote the insubordination and a lack of respect for any authority that Socrates' general conduct was said to have done. So, might the attempt to teach undergraduate philosophy be corrupting or, at least, misguided?

On the other hand, even though the Athenian state may have viewed Socrates' influence as corrupting, his steadfast search for truth, irrespective of cultural traditions and values, has made Socrates the exemplar of intellectual integrity. Indeed, the idea of the liberal arts has its roots in the ancient Greek understanding of education, which is partly indebted to Socrates. As James Bowen points out,

It was the ancient Greeks who developed the notion that the only activities worthy of the name of education are those that enable man to transcend the limitations of time and space imposed by his finiteness; the limitations, that is, of a biological basis that ties him to a particular moment and place in which to live his life. Man, at least in the generic sense, has the capacity to make this transcendence through a properly organised set of experiences, and the Greek position was that these should be concerned firstly with heightening sensitivity to, and facility in, language (both speech and writing); and, secondly, through this instrumentality, with exploring the realm of the timeless and placeless; that is, the realm of ideas...Because they [the ideas] were held to be the means by which man can be liberated from his limitations, these studies, based on language and mathematics, were therefore called the liberal arts, and this distinguished them from the 'illiberal' crafts, which were the customary activities of menial workers.3

Hence, it seems clear that those of us concerned with education in this sense should side with Socrates and against the Athenian state, and we should also, therefore, advocate the teaching of modern day undergraduate philosophy.

However, the accusation that philosophy corrupts the youth is raised again, not this time by the Athenian state, but by Plato himself. In his outline of education in the Republic, Plato says that in order to avoid harm, instruction in dialectic (a method of reasoning in which all assumptions are questioned) should only begin when the student has reached the age of thirty, and should continue for five years. The reason for this delay is that he observed people to become thoroughly rebellious if it was taught to them too early. Plato's Socrates explains why this might be as follows:

'Well suppose...that the kind of person we're imagining is faced with a question like 'What is right?' He answers that it consists in the conduct enjoined by the originator of his society's code, but the argument proves him wrong, and proves him wrong again and again, until he's battered into thinking that this code is no more right than wrong.Then the same happens with morality and goodness and all the qualities he used particularly to respect.What do you think the consequences of this are on his behaviour? What will happen to his respect and obedience?'
'He'll inevitably become more disrespectful and disobedient than he was before,' he [Glaucon] said.
'Now, when he's changed his mind about what to respect and about his former familiar code...and at the same time can't discover the truth, where can he turn? Doesn't it only make sense to think of him being seduced by the tempting lifestyle?...So he'll stop being law-abiding and become rebellious...People who are exposed to rational arguments, then,...are quite likely to rebel and, as I suggested a moment ago, we should forgive them, don't you think?'
'Yes, and feel sorry for them,' he added.
'So if you want to avoid having to feel sorry for your thirty-yearolds, then you must handle rational argument with the utmost circumspection, mustn't you?...And one important precaution you can take is not to let them get wind of rational arguments when they're young, don't you think? I mean, I'm sure you've noticed how when adolescents get their first taste of argumentation, they abuse it and treat it like a game.They can't find any other use for it except disputation; they use knock-down arguments which they borrow from others to demolish people's positions. Like puppies, they love to tug away at anyone they come across and to tear his argument to shreds with theirs...So before long—once they've demolished a lot of arguments and often had their own demolished as well—they find they've radically changed their minds about everything... An older person, however,...is hardly likely to succumb to this insanity: he'd sooner resemble someone who's willing to practise dialectic and look for the truth, than someone who trivialises everything with his game-playing and disputatiousness.'4

In other words, for Plato, rational argument, or dialectic, leads to a young person being battered into thinking that society's code of what is right as well as what is moral and good, and all the qualities or values he respects, are no more right than wrong. Thus, dialectic leads to an utter scepticism of all values. So, Plato believed this would lead such a person into a lifestyle of enjoyable pursuits rather than doing what is right, that is, to a life of hedonism. Hence, for Plato such a person is corrupted.

So, even though we may be committed to the idea of liberal education, Plato suggests here that introducing students to philosophical argumentation might only be viable once the student has reached a relatively high level of maturity. Indeed, he suggests that such an introduction is likely to be counter-productive or even positively corrupting, in the sense that students are driven to a life of hedonism and nihilism.

One response to these worries may be to suggest that the teaching of philosophy need not be such a personally challenging affair for the students. The approach could be more historical such that the same material is covered, but without the same danger of corrupting the youth. Indeed, these two different approaches to teaching philosophy are in tune with two major strands in educational theory. The traditional theory of education corresponds to the historical approach and the progressive theory of education corresponds to the more personally challenging approach. And, in fact, the traditional theory of education usually traces its origins back to the philosophy of Plato and Aristotle. It might be concluded, therefore, that if philosophy is to be true to its own heritage, it ought to teach philosophy in a traditional way, in other words, only historically.

However, this argument for a historical approach only stands if Plato and Aristotle's educational theories really are of the traditional kind. Since, if they are not, taking an historical approach may not be teaching their philosophy at all. Consequently, in Part One, I will briefly describe the two types of theories of education. I then suggest that it seems untenable to associate the traditional theory straightforwardly with Plato and Aristotle whilst at the same time associating the notion of genuine education and liberal arts, which seem inherently progressive, with Greek culture more generally. I then go on to argue that part of the confusion can be explained by the distinctiveness of Plato's higher educational programme, which seems inherently progressive.

Part one
Educational theory, Plato and Aristotle

The traditional model of education, which is said to have arisen out of Plato and Aristotle's theories, is also thought of as conservative. Bowen's synopsis of the traditional approach as follows:

The authority of the teacher is stressed and his role is seen as one of instilling in his pupils a required body of set subject matter. Little attention is paid to individual differences or children's interests, children are expected to remain quiet and passive and, to this end, coercive techniques are common.The school is cut off from outside life and what goes on within is seen primarily as a preparation for the future rather than an enrichment of the present. The basic stress is on the knowledge to be acquired and it is this that determines the aims; notions such as development of potentialities or self-realisation being largely ignored. Utilitarian and practical knowledge is seen as fit only for the less able, who are to receive a minimum education, the full programme being open only to the intellectually gifted.5

The progressive model, which is thought of as liberal, received its first description and elucidation from Jean-Jacques Rousseau6 and John Dewey.7 Bowen's description runs as follows:

Here, the child's interests and needs are regarded as the main factor in deciding what should be taught, and instrumental and practical knowledge is given a place in the curriculum. Activity methods and learning by discovery replace formal instruction as the dominant educative process, and examinations and testing are given less stress. The teacher's role is seen as one of encouraging the development of individual potentialities rather than moulding children according to some preconceived pattern. He becomes a guide more than an external authority figure and thus coercive techniques are used only as a last resort, if at all. Life in the school is related wherever possible to life outside the school, and education is seen as an enrichment of the present at least as much as a preparation for the future.8

Even from these brief characterisations, we can see that there seems something odd about associating Plato and Aristotle's philosophy, which emerged out of a culture that developed the notion of liberal arts,9 with the traditional conservative model. That association becomes particularly jarring when the traditional model is said to largely ignore the 'development of potentialities or self-realisation,'10 yet the Greek ideal of education is said to be precisely concerned with those things:

The Greek notion that genuine education is wholly disinterested and autonomous, for example, survives fully in our concept of the truly educated man. Implanted firmly in us all is the belief that each of us has an unfulfilled 'potential' and that only 'genuine' or 'true' education will ever develop this.Although we may try to ignore the intuition, we suspect that inside each of us is the void of unrealised excellence.11

However, the potential misappropriation of Plato and Aristotle as originators of the traditional model can be, I think, resolved through developing some of the detail of Plato and Aristotle's theories of education.

An obvious area of potential confusion lies in the difference between early and higher education, since one might take a traditional approach in the former and a progressive approach in the latter. It is clear that the early educational programme advocated by both philosophers is similar and could be classified as traditional because they are both quite strict about inculcating the right habits in the young. Although they differ in that Plato emphasises the generation of a harmonious psyche just as much as habit. Thus, although he does not warrant the traditional tag as straightforwardly as Aristotle does in early education, his programme still seems traditional.

With regard to higher education, however, their educational theories differ markedly for fundamental epistemological reasons. As we will see, Aristotle's approach seems to fall neatly into the traditional camp, whereas Plato's approach seems to have the characteristics of a progressive approach.

Higher education

One of the main differences between Aristotle's account of higher education and Plato's is that dialectic is the explicit focus of higher education for Plato but not for Aristotle. Indeed, the first ten years of higher education (ages twenty to thirty) are, for Plato, a preparation for tuition in dialectic, which takes place in the following five years.

This difference is not merely superficial but goes to the heart of Plato and Aristotle's philosophical differences. For Plato, only dialectic can get at absolute truth. He says, 'I must remind you...that the power of dialectic can alone reveal this [absolute truth].'12 And this is because only dialectic can allow us to approach the realm of the forms (true reality), of which the sensuous world is merely a pale imitation. For Aristotle, however, we acquire an idea of the essence of something and, therefore, knowledge of it, through repeated exposure to things of that kind. We build up knowledge by extracting the form or essence of an object from particular instances.

In other words, then, Aristotle's epistemology is inductive, whereas Plato's is deductive (once we have been reminded of knowledge of the forms through dialectic). This leads to a great difference in their general approach to education. As Bowen puts it, with regard to Aristotle's inductive epistemology,

One of the fundamental tasks of the teacher, then, is to provide the child with the concrete experiences necessary to make this final reflective judgement, which leads to definite knowledge.13

He goes on,

This model of how the mind acquires knowledge has been very influential as a guide to the nature of the teaching-learning process right down to modern times and has given much support to the traditional concept of the teacher as one whose task it is to feed the necessary items of knowledge into the developing mind.14

However, for Plato, each student already has knowledge of the forms locked away in their memory. Hence, it is the purpose of dialectic to encourage each student to recover this knowledge from within the self.15 Consequently the higher education of mathematics and dialectic do not lend themselves to the traditional form of education. Indeed, because they concern non-sensible objects—the forms—it is impossible to transmit them. Since, that could only occur through some sensible medium or other (writing or speech). Rather, the student can only be guided to discover them in their own minds.

In addition, the idea that Plato's approach is progressive and Aristotle's approach traditional is borne out by their styles of teaching and writing philosophy. Plato only wrote in dramatic dialogue form whereas Aristotle's 'books' (which are thought to be his lecture notes) are didactic.

So, it seems that where early education is not confused with higher education, Aristotle may be responsible for the traditional model of education and not Plato. Aristotle's inductive approach lends itself straightforwardly to the traditional model whereas Plato's dialectic is inherently progressive.

It seems, then, that it would be a mistake to take a historical approach to teaching Plato's philosophy. Since, such a traditional mode of teaching does not engage the student in dialectic and so cannot allow the student to discover true knowledge, which is the goal of Plato's philosophy. An historical approach, in other words, would not be teaching Plato's philosophy at all.

Thus, assuming we want to teach Plato's philosophy, we should take a progressive approach. However, the corollary of the progressive approach to philosophy is the subject of this whole paper. Plato's dialectical method begins by undermining conventional beliefs, values and morality, and so begins by exposing the student to the danger of corruption (if they are under 30 years of age). So, I now want to discuss Plato's method of teaching philosophy and its justification in more detail to get a clearer idea of how it may corrupt the youth. This will allow me to conclude by suggesting some practical steps that might be taken to counter or overcome the corrupting effect of undergraduate philosophy.

Part two
Plato's dialectic

With regard to method, Plato's early dialogues are characterised by 'elenchus' and his middle and late dialogues by the 'hypothesis' form of dialectic.

Elenchus

Richard Robinson defines 'elenchus' as,

Examining a person with regard to a statement he has made, by putting to him questions calling for further statements, in the hope that they will determine the meaning and truth-value of his first statement. Most often the truth-value expected is falsehood; and so 'elenchus' in the narrow sense is a form of cross-examination or refutation. In this sense it is the most striking aspect of the behaviour of Socrates in Plato's early dialogues.16

In other words, after putting a general question to someone, Socrates then asks questions about the primary answer given. This then leads the answerer to draw out implications of their primary answer that contradict the primary answer, thus producing a refutation of that answer.

In order to elicit a primary answer or premise from the interlocutor, Socrates employs various strategies that constitute what is known as Socratic irony or slyness. Robinson points out that,

The statements that he is 'seeing whether the answer is true' are insincere. So are the earnest requests for instruction by which he obtains the primary answer.17

Socratic irony also occasionally involves inviting reciprocity in elenchus,18 but this is only so as to persuade his interlocutor to submit to questioning, or is an excuse for Socrates to launch into a long speech. Socrates also feigns a bad memory in order to entrap others into pontificating.19

Because elenchus involved the use of irony to elicit an initial response and then an eventual refutation of that response, elenchus could have very negative effects. Victims often became ill disposed towards Socrates. For example, Thrasymachus complained of 'Socrates' usual slyness'20 and believed Socrates deliberately tried to make trouble in arguments.21 Also pleasant discussions could turn into quarrels.22

The natural question at this point is then, what could possibly justify the practice of elenchus? Plato discusses this in three dialogues. Firstly, Robinson describes Socrates' position in the Meno as follows,

Elenchus changes ignorant men from their state of falsely supposing that they know to the state of recognising that they do not know; and this is an important step along the road to knowledge, because the recognition that we do not know at once arouses the desire to know, and thus supplies the motive that was lacking before. Philosophy begins in wonder, and the assertion here made is that elenchus supplies the wonder.23

Thus, we can say that elenchus does not 'actually increase knowledge, but only prepares the ground for it.'24

Secondly, in the Sophist the focus of elenchus is not so much to arouse the desire to know, but to remove a barrier to the acquisition of knowledge. That barrier is the conceit that we already know. Hence, elenchus is described by analogy with medical purging, and is, therefore, an essential preliminary to acquiring knowledge.25

Thirdly, in the Apology Socrates explains that the origin of his habit of elenchus was the Delphic god's statement that no one was wiser than Socrates.26 This statement perplexed Socrates because he felt that he had no wisdom, yet also believed that the god could not lie. Hence, in an effort to resolve his perplexity he began to study men with a reputation for wisdom, but found that they were not wise after all. He, therefore, concluded that he was, in fact, wiser than the wise because whereas they knew nothing, he at least knew that he knew nothing.27

Socrates did, however, continue with elenchus beyond this point, because he felt that the god had imposed a duty on him of demonstrating to all men that no man is wise. He also says that the purpose of elenchus is to shame people into putting the virtue of the soul first.28 Hence, in Apology, the ultimate aim of elenchus is thought not to be intellectual education but moral improvement, to make men better men. And elenchus can achieve this because men can only be virtuous if they know what virtue is, and they can only learn what it is once they have been disabused of their false opinion of what it is.

Hence, there are three main justifications of the Socratic practice of elenchus. The first two are educational in an intellectual sense. They are designed to generate knowledge by arousing the desire for knowledge and removing the barrier to knowledge of falsely believing that we already know. The third is educational in a moral sense. It is designed to shame people into putting the virtue of the soul first. All three justifications in no way eschew the destructive and negative characteristic of elenchus. Indeed, leaving victims with less 'knowledge' than they had to start with is essential to elenchus.

Dialectic

The greatest difference between elenchus and dialectic is that dialectic is constructive, although the destructive movement of elenchus is part of dialectic's constructive process. What dialectic aims at is not exposing false claims to knowledge as elenchus does, and, thus, in effect, ignorance, but rather knowledge in a very strong sense. It is through dialectic that we can gain positive knowledge of what each thing is, that is, the essence or form of each thing. And, indeed, dialectic was not merely one of many tools that one could use for philosophy. Rather for Plato, 'it [dialectic] was philosophy itself, the very search for the essences, only considered in its methodical aspect. The method occurred only in the search, and the search only by means of the method'29 (my emphasis). Also, this method of dialectic was not prescribed mechanically, 'dialectic was not a substitute for thinking but a way of thinking'30 (my emphasis).

The perfect dialectician's certainty would be an internal certainty of intuition, not the external kind we feel after using an adding machine; and it could not be communicated to any sort of man, but only to another perfect dialectician.31

Dialectic can be characterised further in contrast to two degenerative forms of dialectic: antilogic and eristic. Eristic is the art of quarrelling, and Plato indicates 'the aim of this procedure is to win the argument, whereas the aim of dialectic is to discover truth.'32 Antilogic is the art of contradiction. This is 'a tendency to contradict, to maintain aggressively whatever position is opposite to that of one's interlocutor.'33 Dialecticians tend to be friendly and gentle with each other and try to say the truth. Whereas eristic is a childish contentiousness that does not care about the truth but employs every device to give the appearance of winning the argument. So, 'the appropriate picture for dialectic is the road or the search, that for eristic is the fight.'34

Hypothesis

Hypothesis is an element of dialectic that is only prominent in the middle dialogues including the Republic. It is, roughly speaking, a kind of believing or positing.

Positing is only that kind of believing in which we deliberately and consciously adopt a proposition with the knowledge that after all it may be false...What is posited is always provisional and tentative. It is posited only 'until further notice'. We are aware that we may have to withdraw it and posit something else or suspend judgement.35

Robinson draws out four aspects of Plato's hypothetical method. First, even though Plato is not explicit it seems unavoidably implicit that 'we should adopt our opinions deliberately rather than slide into them unconsciously, and also that we should adopt opinions rather than suspend judgement.'36 Second, it is deductive in that it draws out the consequences of hypotheses, carefully distinguishing premises from conclusions, rather than appealing to intuition. Third, inconsistency must be avoided at all costs. Robinson observes that 'Plato's portrait of Hippias clinging to common sense in spite of the inconsistencies Socrates reveals therein shows the sort of thing to which the ideal of consistency is opposed.'37 And Socratic elenchus is the process whereby we can explore our beliefs in order to bring to light indirect contradictions. Fourth, opinions must be held provisionally and not dogmatically, although while no contradiction has been found they should be held with vigour and acted upon with confidence. But we must be ready to abandon them if consistency demands.

However, one major problem arises with the hypothetical dialectical method. Even if we have a consistent and harmonious system of beliefs we may nevertheless not have truth. Since, consistency does not necessarily give us truth. Plato's response to this problem is the 'intuition-theory' of the upward path. Robinson describes it as follows:

He [Plato] conceives that the dialectician takes a hypothesis and deduces its consequences, trying his hardest to discover some contradiction in those consequences. If he does discover one, the hypothesis is thereby refuted. He then takes another hypothesis, usually a modification of the first one designed to avoid the contradiction which refuted that. He then deduces the consequences of this second hypothesis, again trying his hardest to make it lead to a contradiction. He continues this process for a long time, making a great effort to be patient and thorough. Some day, after months or years of labour, he reflects that he has now been attempting to refute the same hypothesis for many weeks, and that this last hypothesis has endured every test and stood consistent in all its consequences, which he has deduced on every side as far as it seems possible to go.With this reflection (if he ever gets so far) it dawns on him that this hypothesis is certainly true, that it is no longer a hypothesis but an anhypotheton.38

In other words, this 'intuition-theory' of the upward path does not produce a proof or demonstration of the beginning or unhypothesised, even though it arrives at certain knowledge. This beginning is in fact the Good and 'Plato's view seems to be that the Good, far from being proved, is the presupposition of all proof that is not hypothetical.'39 However, there is a darker side to the hypothetical method that emerges in the Parmenides. That dialogue prescribes that we should draw the consequences of not merely the hypothesis but also its contrary, and the dialogue seems to expect that both will contain inconsistencies. This suggests that a consistent position does not exist and, therefore, cannot be found. Further, the dialogue does not suggest what the next step beyond drawing consequences should be, but merely says that we should draw the consequences of both contradictories if we are 'to come upon the true and possess intelligence.'40

Thus, for Robinson 'the methodological aspect of the Parmenides thus seems to be, like its other aspects, bewildering, sceptical, and depressing' and to generate 'apathy and despair.'41 Since the great method of hypothesis is 'severely lamed by the discovery that an hypothesis and its contradictory may both lead to absurdities.'42 This problem was so significant that F. M. Cornford felt that, if this were Plato's view he 'should have burnt his books and relapsed into unbroken silence.'43

We can see then, that even though the overall justification of the hypothetical dialectic of the middle dialogues is the search for truth, two dangers exist that might be destructive to this process. Firstly, the constructive search for truth can only take place hand-in-hand with the destructive process of elenchus. Hence, the danger continuously exists of dialectical degenerating into eristic and antilogic. Secondly, the Parmenides suggests that it is possible that elenchus will always ultimately triumph over dialectic. In this case we would be left in 'apathy and despair' and with Cornford's desire to burn Plato's books.

Conclusion and some practical implications

With this more detailed understanding of Plato's philosophical methodology it seems that we can say that the danger of corrupting the youth lies in three areas. Firstly, the practice that Socrates identified as the real reason for being brought to trial, elenchus. Secondly, if dialectic degenerates into eristic and antilogic. Thirdly, in the belief that the consequences of all hypotheses lead inevitably to contradictions, as exemplified in the Parmenides.

However, all three areas of potential corruption ultimately arise as effects of one thing, elenchus. Elenchus is the explicit subject of the first; eristic and antilogic only arise because of the desire to refute embodied in the legitimate practice of elenchus during dialectic; and contradictions are only revealed by applying elenchus to hypotheses. Elenchus, then is the real culprit as far as corrupting the youth is concerned.

If this is an accurate description of the effects of philosophy on the youth (and in my experience the effects of elenchus can be observed to occur within the short space of a first year introductory course of philosophy), and undergraduate courses are not to lead students down the rocky road of nihilism and hedonism, a debt of responsibility hangs over undergraduate courses to provide students with the possibility of some kind of response. In other words, if undergraduate philosophy courses destroy the values and beliefs of students that would lead them through life tolerably well, but provide no alternatives or means to realising those alternatives, students would be merely led to nihilism and hedonism. In this case, Meletus' accusation of Socrates could indeed be levelled against undergraduate philosophy.

A response to such an accusation may be that the second and third years of undergraduate courses are constructed to suggest alternative values and beliefs. Studying philosophers who advocate particular values may lead students to adopt those values or to create their own set of values. However, this hope is groundless if students have been only trained in the art of elenchus, and not in the constructive side of dialectic, hypothesis. That is, hypothesis should not be neglected. And, indeed, elenchus should be put in its place as the handmaiden of the search for truth, the handmaiden of hypothesis. Only then does it seem possible to prevent elenchus from running away with students and leading to corruption.

This conclusion has some practical implication with regard to the nature of assignments set for students. Firstly, students should not be asked to explore their own hypothesis only after an accurate exegesis of the texts under study. Since, one must ask if we seriously expect many or most undergraduates to come up with a reasonable hypothesis after having gained a good understanding of an issue through the work of professional philosophers. What is more likely to happen is that having understood the complexities of the views of professional philosophers students produce a good exegesis and then become stuck for a hypothesis and merely make a few comments or statements of pre-existing beliefs or commitments. Such an exercise, then, does not even engage the student in elenchus and so any hypothesis will merely be unexamined beliefs. Secondly, students should not be merely asked to compare one text with another after an accurate exegesis of both. Since, in effect, students will merely practise elenchus from the perspective of one position with regard to another. And, far worse still, they immediately encounter the third area of potential corruption: that all hypotheses lead inevitably to contradictions.

In other words, students should not be encouraged to perform accurate exegesis as a separate and prior task to constructing their own hypothesis, but instead they should do both together. Or rather their hypothesis should lead the assignment, and exegesis should be given only insofar as it contributes to that hypothesis. This implies that their hypothesis will only be possible by virtue of a misunderstanding of a text, but the tutor can correct this and, thereby, become the interlocutor in the process of dialectic that follows the student's hypothesis. That is, even though, in a sense, they may only arrive at an accurate understanding of a set text at a later stage, they should so arrive, and should also have practised their constructive powers of positing a hypothesis, drawing out its consequences and then applying elenchus to their own hypothesis. This clearly seems to be a much richer exercise and one that avoids the direct route to corruption that an exercise in pure elenchus (that a request for accurate exegesis and comparison practically becomes) is likely to generate. But most importantly the student develops their skill of using hypotheses and so will be more able to adopt values of others or create their own set of values.

In this way Plato's philosophy and all philosophy that challenges fundamental beliefs and assumptions that ground Western culture can be genuinely taught. Yet students are provided with the tools necessary to overcome the 'corrupting' effects that teaching undergraduate philosophy can have.

Endnotes

  1. Plato: The Last Days of Socrates: Euthyphro, Apology, Crito and Phaedo, p.8; Euthyphro, 3b.
  2. Ibid., p.35.
  3. Theories of Education, p.4.
  4. Plato: Republic, 538c-539d.
  5. Theories of Education, p.14.
  6. Emile, 176.
  7. Democracy and Education. An introduction to the philosophy of education, original 1916.
  8. Ibid., pp.14-5.
  9. See quotation above, footnote 3.
  10. Ibid., p.14.
  11. Ibid., p.5.
  12. Doctrines of the Great Educators, p.24 and Republic 533.
  13. Theories of Education, p.84.
  14. Ibid., p.84.
  15. This is, of course, Plato's doctrine of recollection in which it is said that learning is the recovery of knowledge from a previous existence. At birth we suffer total amnesia, so gaining knowledge is a case of each student recollecting the knowledge they once had.
  16. Plato's Earlier Dialectic, p.7.
  17. Ibid., p.9.
  18. Gorgias, 462a
  19. Meno, 71c
  20. Republic, I, 337a
  21. Republic, 341a
  22. Laches, 195b
  23. ibid, p.11
  24. ibid, p.12
  25. ibid, p.13
  26. Apology, 20d-21c
  27. Apology, 21d
  28. Apology, 29 d-30a
  29. Plato's Earlier Dialectic, p.71.
  30. Ibid., p.73.
  31. Ibid, p.73.
  32. Ibid., p.85.
  33. Ibid., p.85.
  34. Ibid., p85.
  35. Ibid., p.94.
  36. Ibid., p.105.
  37. Ibid., p.106.
  38. Ibid., p.173.
  39. Ibid., p.173.
  40. Parmenides, 136e.
  41. Ibid., p.280.
  42. Ibid., p.280.
  43. Mind, 1942, p.387.

Bibliography

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