PHIL HOPKINSsays the same about his own thinking in places, such as in the Theaetetus
(162d), where he remarks that what they discussed earlier seemed good
and true then, but now has suddenly changed to its opposite.
Socrates often works carefully to produce this outcome. When
someone of fers fa irly rea sonable opinions (such a s when Cr it ia s suggest s
that swfrosuvnh is doing what is fi ne and benefi cial, or when Theaetetus
suggest s t hat k nowledge is some sort of percept ion), Socr ates often t akes
up some earlier and often weaker assertion and brings it into confl ict
with the opinion just stated, even when the earlier position has been or
clearly should be abandoned. The results of these arguments demon-
strate that even the more reasonable positions are partial at best. What
Socrates may indeed teach, by his practice, is how and why to make the
weaker argument the stronger, but not in the sophistic sense. Rather, in-
sofar as each logos is already weak and strong at the same time, one must
weaken that logos which seems strong, that is, which is too compelling
and persuasive, and also, at times, even quite eristically if Socrates is to
serve as an example, strengthen the one which is weak so as to maintain
the aporetic balance which can lead to deeper understanding.
Socrates assumes knowledge, as he says in several places, to be a
whole, but accounts, by their very nature, to be partial.^31 In the Par-
menides, the source of young Socrates’ error concerning the Forms is
that a single Form cannot be known at all. All knowledge involves a web
of ideas, a sumplokhv of Forms. Inquiry, then, in its most proper form is
inquiry into the organization and structure of this weaving and not of
its individual elements in isolation. Thus, what is perhaps most impor-
tant is the way accounts relate to each other, building a larger picture;
not only where they agree and cohere, but just as much where they con-
tradict and refute.^32
In both Thucydides and in Plato, readers are provided with means
to the deepest possible understanding when they are invited to join in
the bad faith of the participants, whether deliberating about the causes
for war or about an account of piety or courage or knowledge. This invi-
tation is as much at the heart of book 1 of the History as it is a central fea-
ture of almost every dialogue. Just as the dialogues invite their readers
to participate in the search for an account along with the interlocutors,
the History invites its readers to entertain the same fears as the partici-
pants, and to come to the same conclusion: that the growth in power of
neighboring states must be feared a danger to self-determination and
requires preemptive war. Indeed, if Thucydides’ intention were merely
to show that, regardless of what others thought, he believed the advan-
tage did indeed lie with Athens in a war with Sparta, but that somehow
that advantage was squandered until the unforeseen and unexpected