Moderation, or Temperance

SOCRATES: I'm glad you've come, Llyren. I was just here talking with my friend Critias, and the subject of temperance came up. Now, we've heard that you know quite a bit about temperance, and we were hoping you could enlighten us some. For, you see, neither of us really has any idea what it could be.
LLYREN: I don't know who told you that, Socrates. That is, I don't think I know any more about temperance than the next man. But I'll gladly talk with you about it, as it's been on my mind lately, too, and I have some time to spare right now.
SOCRATES: Certainly. Well then, Critias, shall we say how far we got in our conversation?
CRITIAS: I don't know what there is to say, Socrates. We're pretty sure that temperance is a part of virtue, but we can't exactly say what its purpose is. In fact, we're a bit hazy on the idea of virtue as a whole.
SOCRATES: Didn't we say that the virtuous man is the one who lives well? Therefore, virtue is a thing that helps a man to live well.
CRITIAS: But that's just where it becomes unclear, Socrates. Virtue seems to be a quality, but what sort of quality is it?
LLYREN: I would gladly discuss virtue with you, as well, gentlemen, but what you've said of virtue so far seems to be enough to go on if we wish to discuss temperance. And, if we find that it isn't, then perhaps at least we'll have a better idea of where our understanding of virtue is lacking, and we'll be able to make some more progress on it.
SOCRATES: What Llyren has said makes a lot of sense to me. What do you think, Critias? Shall we go on with our discussion of temperance?
CRITIAS: Yes, let's.
SOCRATES: So, we think that temperance is a part of virtue, but just what part it is, we aren't sure.
LLYREN: I don’t know how this fits with virtue, but I’ve always thought that temperance involved not showing any sort of extreme emotion. In that way, I guess it’s sort of like quietness and moderation.
SOCRATES: No, no, no, that won’t do at all, Llyren. You see, Critias and I were saying much the same thing before you got here, but we found that it wasn’t sufficient at all. Isn’t that right, Critias?
CRITIAS: Yes, I believe we found that the not showing of an extreme emotion, which we termed self-control, is certainly a part of temperance, but is not the whole thing.
SOCRATES: That’s quite right. What shall we do, then?
LLYREN: It seems to me that I’ll have to make a broader definition of temperance.
SOCRATES: It seems so to me, too. How about you try again?
LLYREN: Well, I think what I said before is at least partly right, that temperance and moderation are related.
SOCRATES: That's very true.
LLYREN: Then, it seems to me that temperance is being moderate in all things. That is, doing neither too much nor too little of anything, but holding a sort of middle point. That way, we can avoid the extremes in either direction.
SOCRATES: I think I understand. Do you mean that, for example, a cobbler ought not to make either too many shoes or too few, but just the right number?
LLYREN: Yes, exactly.
SOCRATES: And that a carpenter ought not to make too many tables and chairs or too few, but just the right number?
LLYREN: Yes.
SOCRATES: That does seem likely. But hold on a moment; I think I see a problem.
CRITIAS: What is it, Socrates?
SOCRATES: Is it possible to do too little wickedness, or too much goodness?
CRITIAS: No, I wouldn't think so.
SOCRATES: Then if temperance is doing neither too much nor too little, it doesn't seem that it applies to goodness or wickedness at all, for we ought to do none of the latter and as much as we can of the former. But if that's the case, then how could temperance apply to virtue at all? For isn't virtue concerned with these very things, with the doing of goodness and the not-doing of wickedness? So temperance couldn't be a part of virtue, like we first thought. It looks like we'll either have to give up the idea that temperance is a part of virtue, or we'll have to redefine what we mean by temperance.
CRITIAS: As for me, Socrates, I would much rather redefine our idea of temperance than to deny that temperance is a part of virtue.
LLYREN: And I agree. I think, perhaps, I wasn't as clear as I meant to be when I was defining temperance.
SOCRATES: Well then, would you like to give it another try?
LLYREN: Certainly. It seems to me that, again, what I have said is not wrong, but incomplete. So let me see if I can find a way to show how goodness and wickedness do apply to temperance. You said that virtue is that which, when a man has it, makes him good, right?
SOCRATES: Indeed.
LLYREN: And you think that temperance is a part of goodness, right?
CRITIAS: Yes.
LLYREN: Then I think I may have it. As they say, the third time’s a charm. I think temperance is that part of virtue, of that which has to do with goodness and its opposite, wickedness, which tells us how much of each thing it is right to do, and how much would be wicked to do.
CRITIAS: What do you mean by that, Llyren? Could you explain further?
LLYREN: Let’s see. I said earlier that temperance was like moderation, in doing neither too much nor too little of anything. Could we say, instead, that temperance shows us how much of each thing it is good to do, whether that is much or little?
SOCRATES: I think you may have hit upon the right answer, Llyren. So temperance would show us that it is good to work enough to make money to live on, but wicked to work so much that we cannot give time to our families and friends, as well. Is that right?
CRITIAS: I would say so, at least, Socrates.
SOCRATES: And temperance would also show us that it is good to drink a small amount of wine, to stay healthy, but that it is wicked to get drunk. But, on the other hand, that it is always good to help someone in need, and that it is always wicked to steal or to murder or to cheat someone.
LLYREN: Yes, indeed. This seems to me to be the best definition of temperance we could find. And I think it has even, as we thought it might, shown us some more about what virtue itself is. However, there is still one point that I think we haven’t cleared up yet, because we went in a different direction with our discussion.
CRITIAS: What point is that?
LLYREN: How is self-control a part of temperance? For example, how does one control one’s own emotions? And, as a sort of similar question, is it ever right to show an extreme emotion? For we agreed that temperance shows us how much of each thing we ought to do. Ought we ever, then, to show any extreme emotions? Very rarely, I imagine, but I think now that there might be some cases where it would be good.
SOCRATES: That’s a good point, Llyren, and something we’ll certainly have to look into. As far as your first question goes, how one controls emotion, I think you’re actually asking now how one is or becomes temperate. It’s only a small step from controlling emotions to being temperate in everything, since our emotions are often what lead us into excess. That’s a pretty difficult question, so with your permission, I’d like to take the second one first.
LLYREN: Go ahead.
SOCRATES: Well then, your second question was whether we ever ought to show extreme emotions. Or perhaps, to put it a different way, are there any extreme emotions which are good? For, if there are any, then it seems that temperance will tell us exactly when we ought to use them, and that will be sometimes, as opposed to anything which would always be bad to do, like stealing or lying.
CRITIAS: For my part, I would agree, Socrates. Can you answer the question, then?
SOCRATES: I’ll do my best. I think we agree that some extreme emotions are certainly bad. For example, when our anger is too strong, that’s called wrath, and is condemned by sensible people, right?
LLYREN: Of course.
SOCRATES: And likewise, if our fear is too strong, that’s called cowardice, which is also bad. I’m sure you’ll agree that fear is an emotion?
LLYREN: I don’t see what else it could be.
SOCRATES: So it’s clear that some extreme emotions are bad. Now we must see if we can find any that are good.
CRITIAS: This may be stupid of me, but I can’t think of any.
SOCRATES: What’s that? What about passion? Or perhaps we could also call it love.
CRITIAS: But Socrates, isn’t extreme love often the cause of many problems?
SOCRATES: Ah, but you may be thinking of the wrong kind of love, Critias. Or don’t you know that there are two kinds of love? One is a selfish kind, that loves things for the sake of what they can do for oneself. That kind, it seems, drives people into all sorts of ridiculous and even harmful acts. On the other hand, there’s a selfless kind, that cares about the thing loved in itself, and when it is extreme, it goes to great lengths to make the loved thing happy. Isn’t this always good?
LLYREN: I certainly think so, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Then we have found at least one extreme emotion which seems to be a good thing in all cases. But we must be very careful to distinguish this selfless love from selfish love, which is very often a bad thing.
CRITIAS: Indeed.
LLYREN: That’s one question answered, Socrates, but we still have one left: How does one become temperate?
SOCRATES: I haven’t forgotten, and if you’ll help me out, we can try to find an answer.
LLYREN: Willingly.
SOCRATES: Then let’s see if we can find a good place to start. We want to see how a man can become temperate. How does a man “become” anything else? For example, how does he become a good cook, or a good carpenter?
CRITIAS: Presumably, he studies cooking or carpentry.
SOCRATES: What do you mean by that? Is this really all that we need to do? Are you saying that we can become temperate simply by studying temperance?
CRITIAS: Why not? How else does one learn anything except by studying? Isn’t that how someone learns arithmetic, or public speaking, or anything else?
SOCRATES: You may be right, Critias, but I still feel that something is missing. Wouldn’t you say that, whenever learning is going on, there must also be teaching?
CRITIAS: I’m not sure I follow, Socrates. Or can’t someone, by simply inquiring into a matter and researching it diligently, learn whatever he wants to without having a teacher?
SOCRATES: Think about it this way: Can an inanimate object be a teacher? I believe I heard this phrase somewhere:
The heavens declare the glory of God...
Now, certainly the heavens are inanimate; that is, they are not living creatures themselves, though surely there are creatures that dwell in the heavens. If whoever said this really meant “the heavens,” and not “the creatures who live in the heavens,” then it seems that inanimate objects can be said to do things simply by being what they are. Or doesn’t this seem to be the case?
CRITIAS: I’ll take your word for it.
SOCRATES: Then let’s continue. If inanimate objects can be said to do such things, then can’t they also be teachers, in a way?
CRITIAS: I suppose so.
SOCRATES: Then wherever learning is happening, I think there must conversely be teaching. Or at least, I can’t seem to shake that idea. What do you think?
LLYREN: I agree. Critias?
CRITIAS: Let it be so. I’d like to see where this will take us.
SOCRATES: Alright then. It seems that if we are studying temperance, and thereby learning what temperance is, then we must have someone or something to teach us what temperance is. But does temperance itself exist as itself?
CRITIAS: No, not that I’ve ever seen.
SOCRATES: So it seems that we cannot learn what temperance is from temperance itself. But doesn’t the same hold true for arithmetic? Arithmetic itself doesn’t seem to exist any more than temperance itself does, and yet people learn arithmetic all the time.
CRITIAS: True.
SOCRATES: Then how do we learn arithmetic?
LLYREN: It seems that we learn it from things that partake of arithmetic.
SOCRATES: I agree, Llyren. Then, if we apply the same rules, we learn temperance from things that partake of temperance?
LLYREN: Certainly.
SOCRATES: Does that answer your question?
LLYREN: Not entirely. We haven’t really discovered how one learns temperance. We’ve only discovered what kind of thing one learns temperance from.
SOCRATES: Well, what more do you want, Llyren?
LLYREN: First, I’d like to know some specific things that we can learn temperance from, not just general kinds of things. For to say that one learns temperance from things that partake of temperance is unhelpful if we don’t yet know what temperance is; for how can we learn from temperate things if we don’t know which they are?
SOCRATES: Well said. I would like to talk more about this. But what was your second point?
LLYREN: I’m not quite sure how to put it into words, Socrates, but I’ll try. We’ve said that we learn temperance from temperate things; but how do we learn it? I feel like I’m repeating myself, but I’m not sure how else to make myself clear. In what manner do we learn temperance, or become temperate?
SOCRATES: The way you said that gave me a thought. You asked how we learn temperance, or how we become temperate. I think those may actually be two different things. Now, as far as your first question goes, I think we’re all forgetting something. We went off in entirely the wrong direction when we determined what kind of thing one learns temperance from. We already determined what temperance is, didn’t we? It’s what shows us how much of each thing we ought to do.
LLYREN: That’s right.
SOCRATES: In that case, we already know what temperance is, so we can judge for ourselves what things are temperate; isn’t that right?
LLYREN: It looks so to me.
SOCRATES: Then, our only remaining questions are how one learns temperance—which we seem to have done in a way already—and, what is perhaps the more important question, how one becomes temperate when he has already learned what temperance is.
LLYREN: Yes, that’s exactly what I still want to know.
SOCRATES: Then let’s take the first of these questions: How does one learn temperance? I think what we’re really asking here is, How does one learn anything at all? That’s a difficult thing to comprehend, and I think the discussion of it must be saved for another time, for it doesn’t seem, in the end, to have anything to do with actually becoming temperate. For haven’t we learned what temperance is?
CRITIAS: Of course.
SOCRATES: Then, as far as becoming temperate men, it must not be important how we learn temperance, only that we do learn it. Or don’t you agree?
LLYREN: Yes, let’s leave that question aside for now. What I really want to know is how we become temperate.
SOCRATES: Well, how does one become healthy? Would you say it’s by learning about medicine and nutrition and physical exercise?
LLYREN: I think that’s part of it, Socrates, but it certainly doesn’t end there. For if I know what foods to eat and what sorts of exercises to do, but don’t eat those foods or do those exercises, then I won’t be healthy.
SOCRATES: Exactly. Then what we need to do to become temperate is first to have knowledge of what temperance is, and then to act on that knowledge. So, to become temperate, we must act in the way that our knowledge of temperance tells us to act.
LLYREN: But Socrates, that looks circular to me. Aren’t you saying that to be temperate, we need to act temperately?
SOCRATES: What’s circular about that? If we know how to be temperate, why would we not act that way?
LLYREN: Again, I don’t know how to put it into words, but something seems strange about that.
SOCRATES: Well, until you know how to explain it to me, I don’t understand your objection, and I will go on saying that to be temperate, we must act temperately, and acting temperately consists in doing just as much of each thing as we ought to do.