daimon — “Spirit,” “demon,” “daemon,” or “genius.” Etymologically interpreted as “he who allots.”
A daimon was considered to be a divine spirit, but not equivalent to a god. The first libation at a wine-drinking was frequently made to the Good Daimon, or the daimon of the locale.
In several Platonic dialogues, Socrates refers to his daimon, or personal spirit, which gives him a sign whenever he is about to do something that he shouldn’t do. He always follows these signs. Socrates’ daimon may be characterized as his own deepest self that believes truly though without knowledge. (Remarkably, Socrates’ daimon never tells him what to do, only what not to do.)
In the Symposium, love (eros) is characterized as a kind of spirit or daimon, something neither human nor divine, but in between, and which strives for possession of the divine eidos, Beauty. Lemprière [Lemprière’s Classical Dictionary, 3rd ed. (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1984)] notes that a daemon is “a kind of spirit which, as the ancients supposed, presided over the actions of mankind, gave them their private counsels, and carefully watched over their most secret intentions…. At the moment of death, the Daemon delivered up to judgment the person with whose care he had been entrusted; and according to the evidence he delivered, sentence was passed over the body.” (See also Socrates’ mention of guardian spirits at Phaedo, 107e.) Thus, the idea of a daimon represents a concern for the effects of one’s “private counsels” and “most secret intentions” on the general character of one’s life.
The Oxford Companion to Classical Literature notes that “In general, daimon describes an aspect of divine power which cannot be identified with a particular god…. It is this power which gives a man good or bad fortune at any time, so that he may feel that he has the daimon on his side, or else that he is struggling against it; thus daimon approximates in meaning to irresistible fate. (Heracleitus declared in a famous utterance that an individual’s character is his daimon, thus asserting that a person’s destiny is under his own control.)”
The Socratic view is similar to that of Heracleitus; if you can control the formation of your character (i.e., achieve self-control), then you can control your destiny. (Nota bene, self-control is not tyrannical control.) The Heracleitian utterance is frequently translated as: “Your character is your fate.” Following this idea, the central Socratic concern is: How can you control the formation of your own character? Such formation must require practical knowledge (techné). The practical knowledge of a cobbler who knows how to form a good shoe from leather, however, and the practical knowledge of a wise person who knows how to form good character from mere potential are profoundly different. Grasping this difference is perhaps the central challenge of the Platonic dialogues.