Why was euthyphro at the kings porch

At his trial, as all of Plato 's readers would know, Socrates was found guilty and condemned to death. This circumstance casts a shadow over the discussion. For as Socrates says, the question he's asking on this occasion is hardly a trivial, abstract issue that doesn't concern him. As it will turn out, his life is on the line.

Euthyphro is there because he is prosecuting his father for murder. One of their servants had killed an enslaved person, and Euthyphro's father had tied the servant up and left him in a ditch while he sought advice about what to do.

When he returned, the servant had died. Most people would consider it impious for a son to bring charges against his father, but Euthyphro claims to know better. He was probably a kind of priest in a somewhat unorthodox religious sect. His purpose in prosecuting his father is not to get him punished but to cleanse the household of bloodguilt. This is the kind of thing he understands and the ordinary Athenian does not. The English term "piety" or "the pious" is translated from the Greek word "hosion.

Piety has two senses:. Euthyphro begins with the narrower sense of piety in mind. But Socrates, true to his general outlook, tends to stress the broader sense.

He is less interested in correct ritual than in living morally. Jesus' attitude toward Judaism is rather similar. Socrates says, tongue-in-cheek as usual, that he's delighted to find someone who's an expert on piet—just what he needs in his present situation. So he asks Euthyphro to explain to him what piety is.

Euthyphro tries to do this five times, and each time Socrates argues that the definition is inadequate. Impiety is failing to do this. Socrates' Objection : That's just an example of piety, not a general definition of the concept. Socrates' Objection : According to Euthyphro, the gods sometimes disagree among themselves about questions of justice. So some things are loved by some gods and hated by others. On this definition, these things will be both pious and impious, which makes no sense.

Impiety is what all the gods hate. Socrates' Objection: The argument Socrates uses to criticize this definition is the heart of the dialogue. His criticism is subtle but powerful. He poses this question: Do the gods love piety because it is pious, or is it pious because the gods love it? To grasp the point of the question, consider this analogous question: Is a film funny because people laugh at it or do people laugh at it because it's funny?

If we say it's funny because people laugh at it, we're saying something rather strange. But what is the charge which he brings against you? What is the charge? Well, a very serious charge, which shows a good deal of character in the young man, and for which he is certainly not to be despised.

He says he knows how the youth are corrupted and who are their corruptors. I fancy that he must be a wise man, and seeing that I am the reverse of a wise man, he has found me out, and is going to accuse me of corrupting his young friends.

And of this our mother the state is to be the judge. Of all our political men he is the only one who seems to me to begin in the right way, with the cultivation of virtue in youth; like a good husbandman, he makes the young shoots his first care, and clears away us who are the destroyers of them. This is only the first step; he will afterwards attend to the elder branches; and if he goes on as he has begun, he will be a very great public benefactor.

I hope that he may; but I rather fear, Socrates, that the opposite will turn out to be the truth. My opinion is that in attacking you he is simply aiming a blow at the foundation of the state. But in what way does he say that you corrupt the young? He brings a wonderful accusation against me, which at first hearing excites surprise: he says that I am a poet or maker of gods, and that I invent new gods and deny the existence of old ones; this is the ground of his indictment.

I understand, Socrates; he means to attack you about the familiar sign which occasionally, as you say, comes to you. He thinks that you are a neologian, and he is going to have you up before the court for this. He knows that such a charge is readily received by the world, as I myself know too well; for when I speak in the assembly about divine things, and foretell the future to them, they laugh at me and think me a madman. Yet every word that I say is true. But they are jealous of us all; and we must be brave and go at them.

Their laughter, friend Euthyphro, is not a matter of much consequence. For a man may be thought wise; but the Athenians, I suspect, do not much trouble themselves about him until he begins to impart his wisdom to others, and then for some reason or other, perhaps, as you say, from jealousy, they are angry. I am never likely to try their temper in this way.

I dare say not, for you are reserved in your behaviour, and seldom impart your wisdom. But I have a benevolent habit of pouring out myself to everybody, and would even pay for a listener, and I am afraid that the Athenians may think me too talkative.

Now if, as I was saying, they would only laugh at me, as you say that they laugh at you, the time might pass gaily enough in the court; but perhaps they may be in earnest, and then what the end will be you soothsayers only can predict.

I dare say that the affair will end in nothing, Socrates, and that you will win your cause; and I think that I shall win my own. And what is your suit, Euthyphro? I am the pursuer. Of whom? You will think me mad when I tell you. Why, has the fugitive wings? Nay, he is not very volatile at his time of life. Who is he? My father. Your father! And of what is he accused? Of murder, Socrates. By the powers, Euthyphro! A man must be an extraordinary man, and have made great strides in wisdom, before he could have seen his way to bring such an action.

Indeed, Socrates, he must. I suppose that the man whom your father murdered was one of your relatives-clearly he was; for if he had been a stranger you would never have thought of prosecuting him. I am amused, Socrates, at your making a distinction between one who is a relation and one who is not a relation; for surely the pollution is the same in either case, if you knowingly associate with the murderer when you ought to clear yourself and him by proceeding against him.

The real question is whether the murdered man has been justly slain. If justly, then your duty is to let the matter alone; but if unjustly, then even if the murderer lives under the same roof with you and eats at the same table, proceed against him.

Now the man who is dead was a poor dependent of mine who worked for us as a field labourer on our farm in Naxos, and one day in a fit of drunken passion he got into a quarrel with one of our domestic servants and slew him.

My father bound him hand and foot and threw him into a ditch, and then sent to Athens to ask of a diviner what he should do with him. Meanwhile he never attended to him and took no care about him, for he regarded him as a murderer; and thought that no great harm would be done even if he did die. Now this was just what happened. For such was the effect of cold and hunger and chains upon him, that before the messenger returned from the diviner, he was dead.

And my father and family are angry with me for taking the part of the murderer and prosecuting my father. They say that he did not kill him, and that if he did, dead man was but a murderer, and I ought not to take any notice, for that a son is impious who prosecutes a father.

Which shows, Socrates, how little they know what the gods think about piety and impiety. Good heavens, Euthyphro! The best of Euthyphro, and that which distinguishes him, Socrates, from other men, is his exact knowledge of all such matters. What should I be good for without it? Rare friend!

I think that I cannot do better than be your disciple. Then before the trial with Meletus comes on I shall challenge him, and say that I have always had a great interest in religious questions, and now, as he charges me with rash imaginations and innovations in religion, I have become your disciple. And if Meletus refuses to listen to me, but will go on, and will not shift the indictment from me to you, I cannot do better than repeat this challenge in the court. Yes, indeed, Socrates; and if he attempts to indict me I am mistaken if I do not find a flaw in him; the court shall have a great deal more to say to him than to me.

And I, my dear friend, knowing this, am desirous of becoming your disciple. For I observe that no one appears to notice you- not even this Meletus; but his sharp eyes have found me out at once, and he has indicted me for impiety. And therefore, I adjure you to tell me the nature of piety and impiety, which you said that you knew so well, and of murder, and of other offences against the gods.

What are they? Is not piety in every action always the same? To be sure, Socrates. And what is piety, and what is impiety? Piety is doing as I am doing; that is to say, prosecuting any one who is guilty of murder, sacrilege, or of any similar crime-whether he be your father or mother, or whoever he may be-that makes no difference; and not to prosecute them is impiety.

And please to consider, Socrates, what a notable proof I will give you of the truth of my words, a proof which I have already given to others:-of the principle, I mean, that the impious, whoever he may be, ought not to go unpunished.

For do not men regard Zeus as the best and most righteous of the gods? And yet when I proceed against my father, they are angry with me. So inconsistent are they in their way of talking when the gods are concerned, and when I am concerned. May not this be the reason, Euthyphro, why I am charged with impiety-that I cannot away with these stories about the gods? But, as you who are well informed about them approve of them, I cannot do better than assent to your superior wisdom.

What else can I say, confessing as I do, that I know nothing about them? Tell me, for the love of Zeus, whether you really believe that they are true. Yes, Socrates; and things more wonderful still, of which the world is in ignorance.

And do you really believe that the gods, fought with one another, and had dire quarrels, battles, and the like, as the poets say, and as you may see represented in the works of great artists? The temples are full of them; and notably the robe of Athene, which is carried up to the Acropolis at the great Panathenaea, is embroidered with them. Are all these tales of the gods true, Euthyphro?

Yes, Socrates; and, as I was saying, I can tell you, if you would like to hear them, many other things about the gods which would quite amaze you. I dare say; and you shall tell me them at some other time when I have leisure. But just at present I would rather hear from you a more precise answer, which you have not as yet given, my friend, to the question, What is "piety"? When asked, you only replied, Doing as you do, charging your father with murder.

And what I said was true, Socrates. No doubt, Euthyphro; but you would admit that there are many other pious acts? There are. Remember that I did not ask you to give me two or three examples of piety, but to explain the general idea which makes all pious things to be pious. Do you not recollect that there was one idea which made the impious impious, and the pious pious? I remember. Tell me what is the nature of this idea, and then I shall have a standard to which I may look, and by which I may measure actions, whether yours or those of any one else, and then I shall be able to say that such and such an action is pious, such another impious.

I will tell you, if you like. I should very much like. Piety, then, is that which is dear to the gods, and impiety is that which is not dear to them. Very good, Euthyphro; you have now given me the sort of answer which I wanted. But whether what you say is true or not I cannot as yet tell, although I make no doubt that you will prove the truth of your words. Of course. Come, then, and let us examine what we are saying.

That thing or person which is dear to the gods is pious, and that thing or person which is hateful to the gods is impious, these two being the extreme opposites of one another. Was not that said? It was. And well said? Yes, Socrates, I thought so; it was certainly said. And further, Euthyphro, the gods were admitted to have enmities and hatreds and differences? Yes, that was also said.

And what sort of difference creates enmity and anger? Suppose for example that you and I, my good friend, differ about a number; do differences of this sort make us enemies and set us at variance with one another? Do we not go at once to arithmetic, and put an end to them by a sum? Or suppose that we differ about magnitudes, do we not quickly end the differences by measuring? Very true. And we end a controversy about heavy and light by resorting to a weighing machine?

According to the Euthyphro Dilemma, what is the implication of the idea that murder is wrong just because God disapproves of it?

Question 7 options: The implication is that morality is independent of God. The implication is that morality is objective. Although it was originally applied to the ancient Greek pantheon, the dilemma has implications for modern monotheistic religions.

Euthyphro offers as his first definition of piety what he is doing now, that is, prosecuting his father for manslaughter. Socrates rejects this because it is not a definition; it is only an example or instance of piety. It does not provide the fundamental characteristic which makes pious things pious.

Euthyphro is prosecuting his father for murder which was considered a religious crime by the Greeks.