Plato’s “Phaedrus,” a protracted dialogue between Socrates and Phaedrus, is one of the most confusing texts in the history of philosophy. Why? Because it jumps from subject to subject without building a waterproof chain of arguments, and to make it worse, it often arrives at the wrong conclusions.

I must start by saying that it is not worth discussing whether “Phaedrus” reflects a real conversation conducted by Socrates, or whether it was fully concocted by Plato. It does not really matter whether it’s one or the other because the ideas conveyed in Phaedrus fit well both Socrates’ and Plato’s philosophy.

The dialogue starts when Socrates meets Phaedrus, and the latter proposes to go for a walk in the countryside; as they talk, they walk along a river and eventually sit down in a meadow in the shade of some large trees.

“Phaedrus” takes up fifty pages, but discusses few ideas. A great deal of the conversation consists of historical and literary references that Socrates or Phaedrus use to add weight to their arguments. Today’s readers may find those references annoying because they slow down the philosophical exchanges, but that’s the way Plato wrote his dialogues.

The four themes in “Phaedrus”

Philosophy historians usually analyse Phaedrus by parts. At the beginning, Socrates and Phaedrus talk about love; later, the subject is passion, which leads them to discussing rhetoric and writing.

I don’t think that much wisdom can be gained by addressing each part separately, jumping from one subject to the other; the result of doing so would be inconclusive and contradictory; I’m in favour of looking at “Phaedrus” as a philosophy playground in which, by focusing on the abstract ideas, we can figure out what’s relevant, what’s correct, and what should be discarded.

Phaedrus opens the discussion about love by reading aloud from a speech by Lysias, an Athenian speechwriter that called for avoiding passion when choosing one’s lover because, if we do so, we will avoid the heartache that frequently arises from emotional dependency.

In reply, Socrates compared love to temporary madness, but then argued that madness isn’t detrimental in all cases because it can drive individuals to overcome opposition and criticism, and produce wonderful artworks or perform remarkable feats.

When Phaedrus expresses scepticism about the advantages of madness, Socrates acknowledges that, in life, we need to get our choices right by keeping our appetites and emotions under the control of reason.

The rational charioteer

To drive this point home, Socrates employs the metaphor of a charioteer who embodies reason, but must hold the reins of two horses, one disciplined and hardworking; and another wild and unpredictable.

Nonetheless, Socrates claims that philosophers, due to their superior wisdom, are still able sometimes to dispense of reason and follow their passion, so that they can experience sublime beauty, love, or other heightened emotions.

Socrates then starts an attack against rhetoric as a venal skill employed for manipulating people’s feelings. He contends that, by means of rhetorical tricks, people can be manipulated into doing the wrong things or supporting harmful initiatives.

At the end of the dialogue, Phaedrus praises accomplished speech-writing and writing in general as demanding crafts that enable authors to record important ideas for future use, but his praise fails to obtain Socrates’ endorsement.

In contrast to Phaedrus, Socrates viewed the back and forth of philosophical conversation as superior to writing because a thoughtful conversation enables participants to clarify, contrast and sharpen their ideas as they keep going.

The common thread

What can we learn from such disparate stories? A discussion about love turns into a discussion about madness, then rhetoric and finally about writing in general. Most philosophers have given up on any attempt to connect the dots and draw general conclusions.

I posit that there is a single theme going through “Phaedrus” from beginning to end, but it is not easy to seize because Plato never mentions it in his text. I am referring to epistemology, that is, the method used by humans to acquire knowledge and connect knowledge to emotions.

Essentially, all parts of “Phaedrus” touch the same abstract question: How do acquire the knowledge and values that, in a direct or indirect manner, are going to shape our emotions?

The answer to this question will suffice to explain love, the first subject addressed in “Phaedrus,” as well as the role played in human motivation by passion, rhetoric, and speech-writing. I can explain in this way the invisible thread that runs through a series of seemingly unconnected discussions.

Socrates was correct in presenting reason as the charioteer that must hold the reins of a disciplined and a wild horse. Our knowledge is acquired by reason and logic. They enable us to see the whole picture, take action, and put the puzzle together.

The disciplined horse (habits) and the wild horse (emotions) can interfere with our knowledge acquisition, but if we remain alert, we can overcome their influence and get our decisions right.

Our decision whom to love or whom to befriend, should not follow a different cognitive process than our decision to buy a new house or car.

Reason as the determinant factor

There are emotional elements involved, and our habits and prior experiences will also play a role. However, our reason shall make the final decision based on the available evidence.

The argument put forward by Lysias, that we should choose a lover for whom we feel no passion, does not make any sense. Lysias is assuming that the charioteer should allow solely his wild horse to make this kind of decisions, but luckily, Socrates was able to strongly counter Lysias argument.

Socrates’ charioteer should remain in charge in all areas of live. It does not matter if we are talking about entrepreneurial, artistic, financial, professional or romantic choices. Passion is going to play in all decisions, but the final word shall remain with the rational charioteer.

The same goes for activities such as rhetoric, propaganda, speech-writing, fiction writing, proposals writing, and any other type of communication activity. The wild horse will always be there, trying to impose its blind passions on us, but we do hold the reins in our hand. That’s something we should never forget.

Socrates’ closing argument, that philosophical dialogue is superior to writing and reading, can stay uncontested. There are indeed people who can afford to learn everything they need by attending seminars or hiring personal coaches. I wish them the best, but for the rest of us, the written word can do the job.

If you are interested in applying rational ideas in all kinds of situations, I recommend my book “Against all odds: How to achieve great victories in desperate times.”