by W.D. James

Socrates had a demon.

Or, to avoid misunderstanding, he had a daemon, to stick to the Greek which does not have the negative connotation that the English word derived from it carries.

Socrates and the divine

In this series we have been tracking how Socrates, as the representative of philosophy, is portrayed as a new sort of hero. Also, we have broached his views on the divine. We will explore that more in this essay and wrap up in the next.

Traditionally, Greek heroes, such as Achilles, were often understood to be the offspring of one human parent and a parent who was a god. Hence, heroes were understood primarily in terms of their ontological status as divine-human hybrids who typically possessed special powers not possessed by us mere mortals, though they could still serve as models of human action.

By contrast, Socrates does not claim to have had anything other than very human parents. He does, however, claim to have a daemon which speaks to him. At first sight this might seem oddly placed in the dialogues under examination in that Plato is clearly intending for Socrates to be a model or archetypical example of the lover of wisdom which any and all of us might feel called to emulate. Hence, I think it probably wouldn’t be mentioned if this was not something that the historical Socrates actually talked about. Though we will see how this might be more universal than it appears at first, I think Socrates’ attempt to describe his experience was probably pretty idiosyncratic at his time.

Daemons were recognized, though not very significant, entities in Greek mythology and religion. They were generally thought of as minor deities or something spiritual but less than a god. I think Socrates had some spiritual experience he was trying to find the concepts to describe and appealed to what was present in the Greek religious vocabulary.

I think in the Apology we start to see Socrates redefining this concept in a certain direction. Later, Plato will develop this further. In the Symposium, Plato will describe Eros as a daemon, not a god. In the Timaeus, Plato presents his fully developed view of daemons as intermediary spiritual beings which bridge the gulf between the divine and immaterial world on the one hand, and the material world of humans and the physical cosmos on the other. In fact, the creation of the material universe on the pattern of immaterial forms will be attributed to the work of a daemon in that book.

I think this essential role of connecting the human and the divine is a big part of what is going on with Socrates and his daemon. As developed by Plato, this concept has a lot in common with how Christianity would come to understand the role of angels (messengers who also bridge the space between God/Heaven and humans/earth). The idea of a ‘guardian angel’ seems particularly close to what Socrates claims he experiences.

Even more closely related would be our concept of conscience. However, we need to keep in mind the more traditional understanding of that as a divine voice within us, not something purely subjective as modern psychology would probably tend to describe it.

Before we look to Socrates’ actual account of this phenomenon, we can see that this does bear a resemblance to the traditional Greek idea of what a hero is but, as with everything else in this case, Plato is developing and transforming that. Socrates is not connected to the divine via parentage, but he is connected by being possessed by a daemon or probably more accurately possessing something, an element of himself, of his soul, which he describes as daemonic, bridging the gap between his mortal self and the realm of the divine. In this sense it may be that Socrates is just more conscious of this but that it is in fact a more universal attribute of humans. Hence it could be appropriate that this aspect of Socrates’ experience can in fact serve as a general model for those who would philosophize.

The still, small voice?

In accounting for why he had not more actively engaged in politics and public life in an official capacity in Athens, Socrates gives this explanation:

“The reason for this is what you have often heard me say before on many other occasions: that I am subject to a divine or supernatural experience, which Meletus saw fit to travesty in his indictment [of introducing new gods to the city]. It began in my early childhood – a sort of voice which comes to me; and when it comes it always dissuades me from what I am proposing to do, and never urges me on. It is this that debars me from entering public life, and a very good thing too, in my opinion; because you may be quite sure, gentlemen, that if I had tried long ago to engage in politics, I should long ago have lost my life, without dong any good either to you or to myself” (31c-d).

He also later claims (after having been convicted and sentenced) that he is at peace with this outcome and trusts it cannot be a bad outcome because when he headed off to court that morning with his defense in mind, the voice did not stop him from pursuing his planned course.

Several things are worth noting here. First, apparently this was a persistent part of Socrates’ personality and something he talked about regularly (also suggesting the historical veracity of it – probably not something Plato would have just made up). Secondly, Socrates takes it seriously. He does not try to explain it away. Thirdly, he only experiences it (unlike conscience I think) telling him not to do certain things but not prompting him to do other things.

Socrates’ expression of his experience does not sound so different from that attributed to Elijah in the Bible: “And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice” (1 Kings, 19:12, KJV).

What seems most significant though is that this manifestation of the divine, whatever it is exactly, is primarily moral: concerned with right action. This fits perfectly with Plato’s portrait of Socrates as a new kind of hero – not the half-divine slayer of magical beasts, not the iron-age warrior (though Socrates was a warrior as well), but a moral hero.

In the process, the idea of virtue is undergoing a revision or development as well. In the heroic age, virtue would have been seen a manifestation of the divine in the warrior’s actions. Achilles might be the best example. At various points in the Iliad, he is possessed by what we would think of as a blood-lust which makes him a fearsome warrior. What Socrates and Plato are doing is redefining virtue as a character trait, though still connected to the divine in a way, that is rationally good. Achilles’ virtue is not strictly speaking good. It is a power, but it overpowers his reason and makes him act in ways that are not always laudable.

Socrates, in his teaching on the care of the soul (see the previous essay) is working several major innovations or reforms in Greek moral conceptions.

First, it is being broadened so that virtues like courage can also cover examples of moral courage, not just physical courage in battle.

Secondly, though still associated with the divine, the root of morality is now much more interior to the individual.

Third, it is completely disassociated from the traditional aristocracy (‘noble warriors’) in such a way that even a middle-born person like Socrates can be an exemplar and later a slave like Epictetus can be considered morally superior to the Emperor.

Fourth, it is now a universalizable ideal.

And, finally, this means that to live philosophically, in a way oriented toward the love of wisdom, is a universal goal. The soldier can approach their soldiering either philosophically or not, just as the plumber can approach their plumbing philosophically or not.

‘Hero’ is now an ideal that can be adopted, potentially, by anyone, as can the philosophical life. In fact, to live philosophically is the new model for heroism. Or, such is what Plato and probably Socrates are attempting to establish.

All quotes are from: Plato, The Last Days of Socrates: Euthyphro, Apology, Crito, Phaedo, translated by Hugh Tredennick and Harold Tarrant, Penguin, 2003.