Greek society at the time of The Symposium was perhaps the epitome of decadence, and further epitomizing this decadence is the character of Alcibiades. Young, beautiful and relentlessly vain, he pursues the stately figure of Socrates with the full intent of seducing the philosopher with his much-sought-after good looks, and yet he is spurned. His desperate love for Socrates seems at first equivalent to a love for wisdom itself, but to make such a claim would be to disregard his entire character and nature: Alcibiades seems only barely conscious of the motivations behind his pursuit of Socrates, remaining baffled as to why his attractive appearance was not bait enough. But Socrates, fulfilling his image as a self-described midwife for the soul, recognizes in the young man an unrealized need for wisdom and knowledge, waiting to be "born." He brings forth this yearning like he might deliver a child, utilizing his famous dialectic method to inspire in Alcibiades a love of the most ideal sort, a pursuit of what is ultimately good and virtuous. This longing, in the context of Plato's theory of forms, can indeed be called "progress." This longing, however, is also an example of what seems to be an emerging theory of some basic human nature, a theory which was utterly original and even revolutionary in Plato's time.

Entering the symposium with an intoxicated flourish, staggering drunk and supported by a flute-girl, the young Alcibiades is as typical a portrait of Greek debauchery as Dionysus himself. The god of wine, and more importantly the god of sensuality, the deity embodies itself in Alcibiades through his irrepressible vanity as well as through his firm reliance on physicality and bodily charms. Still love-struck by the brilliant Socrates, he relates to his amused audience his efforts to win over the philosopher by wrestling — a common arena for homosexual advances — only to be steadfastly ignored. Further reinforcing the notion of Alcibiades-as-Dionysus, he then pours copious amounts of wine for the party-goers, perhaps in the hopes of getting Socrates drunk despite his observation that such a thing never seems to occur. He clearly is made out to be a sort of harmless debutante, and such superficial attempts at seduction lead one to conclude that Alcibiades is seemingly a young man with very little profundity about him.

His declarations of love for Socrates seem to betray his shallow nature, however: in professing to have seen beneath the "outer covering" of the philosopher's stoic behavior, he appears to have made some fundamental insight into the true nature of his amorous pursuit. He desires the man not for his physical appearance (as he describes him as a "satyr") but for the spellbinding and overwhelming knowledge which he has discovered Socrates to offer...knowledge so powerful that Alcibiades likens it to a snake-bite. In the context of Socrates' previous speech, he has seemingly taken the first steps towards advancement on Diotima's so-called ladder of love, finally embarking upon the quest for true beauty in the form of wisdom. He describes fervently the alluring effect of the philosopher's teachings, giving the impression of having undergone some intense transformation or revelation; suddenly this dissolute Greek youth seems a paradigm of intellectual fervor, and well on his way up the rungs of the figurative ladder.

But this raises the question: if Alcibiades has indeed transcended his baser and more primitive impulses — if in fact he has experienced some sort of epiphany — then why has he failed so miserably to attract the man he desires? He recalls at one point Socrates' indifference towards his sexual advances, still seemingly baffled by this practically inconceivable rejection. Despite his supposed revelation, he still relies more than ever on his (ultimately limited) powers of sensuality and physicality. He simply cannot figure out how to charm the object of his affection: he goes so far as to lay down beside him, fully naked...surely enough to win over any other man...and yet Socrates remains as responsive as a brick. If Alcibiades has truly become aware of the implications of his newfound search for enlightenment, he does not demonstrate it through his actions. Clearly, even in his haze of infatuation, he is still quite distraught by the nature of his own love for the philosopher, and indeed his love for philosophy itself: "Whenever I listen to him," he claims in distress, "my frenzy is greater than that of the Corybantes... I'm well aware that I can't argue against him and that I should do what he tells me, but...I just don't know how to deal with this person." He has obviously run up against some force in Socrates (or some force in himself) which he is completely unable to comprehend – and in his frustration and confusion, he reveals his inability to understand the true nature of his quest. He desires wisdom, of course, but he is wholly incapable in his present state of realizing why he desires it. And it is precisely this combination of unconscious aggravations which draw him to the philosopher in the first place.

Socrates demonstrates his ability to bring forth hidden meanings in the words of others through his much-lauded methods of argumentation and analysis. Like the reliable midwife he relates himself to in Theatetus, he introduces practically no original ideas into his students' minds, but instead exercises a deft control over the direction of their thought in order to make their own logical flaws clear to them. It is this ability which Alcibiades seems to sense, causing him to be attracted to Socrates even in ways he himself does not fully understand. Unaware of his unconscious longings, he enthuses wildly over the influence that Socrates (or rather, the wisdom he offers) has exerted upon him. But Socrates, naturally, is not fooled by the student's passionate yet naïve confessions. "You must be seeing in me a beauty beyond comparison and one that's far superior to your own good looks," he remarks to Alcibiades, after listening to the poor youth's frustrated diatribe. "If you've seen this and are trying to strike a deal with me in which we exchange one type of beauty for another, you're planning to make a good profit from me. You're trying to get true beauty in return for its appearance, and so to make an exchange that is really ‘gold for bronze'. But look more closely, my good friend, and make sure you're not making a mistake in thinking I'm of value to you. The mind's sight begins to see sharply when eyesight declines, and you're a long way from that point."

Alcibiades does indeed seem to be quite a while away from the genuine enlightenment that lies at the top of Diotima's ladder, and Socrates is well aware of this. Despite claims to the contrary, the young man still clings helplessly to sensuality, attempting to bargain with Socrates in a crude (but common) exchange of sex for knowledge. But it is impossible to deny that he has been struck by an intense craving for some form of idealized wisdom...the "beauty beyond comparison" that Socrates mentions. For an individual so consumed with love for the physical form, his infatuation with the gnarled philosopher would be utterly nonsensical were it not for the presence of this powerful (yet largely unacknowledged) desire for enlightenment.

This desire, however, has implications much wider than the characters of The Symposium itself. In portraying Alcibiades as a person unable to recognize the motivations that impel him to pursue this ultimate wisdom, Plato seems to be pointing towards other, more inherent forces at work in this man — and, indeed, in all men. In perhaps the first-ever philosophical treatise of its kind, Alcibiades struggles with what we would now recognize easily as "human nature": an innate need to strive towards perfection...be it wisdom, God, or beauty...hindered by material and physical desires. By conveying Alcibiades' philosophical frustrations, Plato is essentially setting forth a universal blueprint that defines all human behavior, a blueprint which places the focus on some more noble feature of human beings that we all seek to realize, even when we are essentially unaware of our pursuit. In ancient Greek society, this notion of an inborn longing for the ideal was utterly new and utterly revolutionary.

Philosophers at the time of The Symposium were more concerned with the physical nature of the world than with that of human beings from a moral or metaphysical perspective. Yet over time, Plato's theories of human nature and an idealized realm of existence have become inextricably absorbed into our collective consciousness, theories which we now take for granted and which still remain, for the most part, unchallenged. Regardless of the practicality of these views, it is impossible to deny their profound impact on continental philosophy: from the Christian concept of heaven to modern psychology's notion of personality types, the Platonic view of reality and existence is inescapable. In his desperate and misguided search for true wisdom, Alcibiades may have failed to achieve the enlightenment he so desired...but in doing so, his instinctive pursuit of ultimate beauty would effectively define the course of Western thought for millennia to come.