Plato

by Roy Jackson

  The relevance of Book X

  The Plato scholar, Julia Annas, made the following revealing remarks concerning the final chapter of Republic: ‘… Book 10 itself appears gratuitous and clumsy, and it is full of oddities. We can see why Plato thought it relevant to the rest of the Republic; but the level of philosophical argument and literary skill is much below the rest of the book.’ (Julia Annas, An Introduction to Plato’s Republic, p. 335)

  In Book X of Republic, Plato contentiously argues for tragic poetry to be banned in his state. In the same way our modern understanding of the word ‘myth’ is not the same as understood by the Ancient Greeks (see Chapter 1), we need to be clear what the word ‘poetry’ also means for Plato and the people of his time. In English it is a reference to a somewhat narrow genre of literature, but the Greek word poiein means ‘to make’ and refers to virtually all kinds of artistic production, so that a more appropriate modern translation would be ‘media’. Especially popular in Ancient Greece were the tragic festivals that represented the popular culture of the day, the ‘power of the media’, and, though most no longer survive, there were many thousands of tragedies, and the festivals were attended by many thousands of people.

  While Plato does not go so far as calling for a ban of the tragic poets in any of his other works, there are nonetheless a number of criticisms levelled against them that we can find. For example, when in the Gorgias, which we looked at in the previous chapter, Socrates accuses Callicles and orators of merely ‘pandering’ to their audience without regard for their real interests, he compares this to such things as flute-playing and dithyrambic poetry (501). In the Apology, Socrates says the following about the poets:

  ‘I decided that it was not wisdom that enabled them to write their poetry, but a kind of instinct or inspiration, such as you find in seers and prophets who deliver all their sublime messages without knowing in the least what they mean. It seemed clear to me that the poets were in much the same case; and I also observed that the very fact that they were poets made them think that they had a perfect understanding of all other subjects, of which they were totally ignorant.’

  Plato, Apology, 22c

  Whereas Socrates sees his ‘inspiration’ as helping in his understanding, he sees the inspiration of poets as unreliable. These two forms of inspiration, therefore, are not the same thing. This view is also continued in an early dialogue by Plato, Ion, where Socrates argues that poetry is produced from a Dionysian ecstasy and, as a result, casts reason aside, whereas Socrates’ inspiration is informed by reason.

  As we have seen with Socrates’ concern with rhetoric, here the same concern is expressed with poetry; it is intuitive, but it is not knowledge. Poets, like politicians trained in the arts of rhetoric, have the power to persuade their audience, but the danger is that they persuade them in what is evil or mistaken. Like rhetoric, poetry is a skill without any basis in knowledge and, in fact, it is not concerned with knowledge, with truth.

  This is why the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche blamed Socrates and Plato for the death of tragedy in their call for it to be replaced with scientific reasoning.

  Nietzsche on Socrates and tragedy

  The German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche (1844–1900) is perhaps most famous for his philosophy of the Übermensch (the ‘Superman’ or ‘Overman’) and for his declaration that ‘God is dead’, but he was also professor of Greek at the University of Basel from 1869 until 1879 and his early work was, quite naturally, concerned with Greek culture. The first book he published was The Birth of Tragedy in 1872, and this work reflects Nietzsche’s wider concerns over the decline in values in Europe at the time he was writing, coupled with the decline in religious belief. A key theme throughout all of Nietzsche’s work, as he was very much a moral philosopher, is his desire for a new set of values given that people no longer believed in God. But where would these values come from? In The Birth of Tragedy he looks to art, and tragedy in particular, for salvation.

  Nietzsche’s description of Greek tragedy shows it as an interactive, unifying and even mystical experience. The audience does not simply watch the show, but is so engaged in it that it provides a therapeutic outlet for a people who are only too aware of the horrors of everyday life in nature. The audience, by partaking in tragedy, becomes a work of art themselves. For Nietzsche, the greatest tragedians were Sophocles (c. 497–406 BC) and Aeschylus (c. 525–456 BC), whereas he was especially critical of Euripides (c. 480–406 BC) who, by getting rid of the chorus in the drama, effectively killed what was central to tragedy; its ‘irrational’ element. Socrates, like Euripides, stressed the importance of the power of reason, so that tragedy should be ‘rational’ and should, as a result, reveal truth. Nietzsche, however, always placed a greater emphasis on the irrational and the instinctual; that there is actually no such thing as truth, but at least great art (i.e. Greek tragedy) could put people in touch with nature and what it means to be human. At the time Nietzsche wrote The Birth of Tragedy he saw his contemporary Richard Wagner (1813–83) as a composer who reflected best this need for art to return to these Greek roots (although Nietzsche changed his mind about this later on).

  Republic Book III

  Whereas in his other works, Plato seeks to undermine the status of the poets, in Republic he goes much further; he wants them banned. In Book III of Republic, Plato, through the voice of Socrates, is concerned with how a state is to educate its philosophers (and, therefore, the state’s future leaders):

  ‘… The first thing we must do is to supervise our story-tellers, approving any story they put together that has the required quality and rejecting any that doesn’t. We’ll induce nurses and mothers to tell children the ones we’ve approved, and to use stories to mould their souls far rather than their hands to mould their bodies. But most of the stories they currently tell will have to be thrown out.’

  Plato, Republic, 377c

  Socrates argues that, in the same way a painter paints a portrait that bears no resemblance to its subject, many of the poets – greats such as Hesiod and Homer included – misrepresent the nature of gods and heroes. Asked to provide an example by his interlocutor Adeimantus, Socrates recounts the story told by Hesiod in his Theogony about what Uranus did to Cronus and what Cronus did in revenge.

  Cronus

  Uranus was ruler of the universe and his son, Cronus, envied this power. Egged on by his mother, Gaia, Cronus attacked Uranus, castrating him with his sickle and throwing the testicles into the sea.

  Socrates’ concern is that even if such tales are true, they represent bad role models for the young and impressionable, for they are incapable of appreciating the deeper meaning of such stories and are liable to take them literally. The gods, Socrates argues, are good and, therefore, can only be responsible for good things and, therefore, only poems that praise the gods are to be allowed. What is interesting here is that Plato is not claiming to know more about the gods than the poets did but, in the creation of his new state, he is being pragmatic and fully aware of the power of religion over the people. Religion can be a tool for good or bad, and Plato wishes it to be a tool for good by presenting the gods of good role models. He is, in effect, leaning towards the one, omnibenevolent, omnipotent and perfect God that is familiar to the monotheistic religions we have today.

  Republic Book X

  Remember that in Athens at the time, myth as told by the poets was extremely powerful; it moulded people’s character and was central to a child’s education. Realizing the potency of poetry, Plato wants his state to have philosophers as its educators. Why? Because philosophers deal with truth and, despite the fact that Socrates admits his own love and respect for Homer, which he has had since he was a boy, truth will out in the end. In Book X of Republic, Plato presents two arguments as to why the poets’ works must be banned:

  THE PAINTING ARGUMENT (595A–603D)

  This argument is sometimes referred to as the metaphysical critique of poetry because its concern is with the reality t
hat art portrays. It is epistemological in nature because he argues that poetry misleads us and distracts from what is fact. By this stage of Republic, the interlocutors and the readers will now be very familiar with the Theory of the Forms, and here Plato initiates his argument by talking of the Forms as what is true. It logically follows that, in Plato’s state, there should be as few hindrances as possible in grasping these Forms.

  Through Socrates, Plato gives an example of various objects in the world, but focuses on a couch. In the world there are many couches that are built by craftsman, but what makes a couch a couch is the fact that they all partake in the ‘form’ of the couch, which in itself is produced by ‘another kind of craftsman too’ (596b).

  ‘This very same craftsman, with his own hands, isn’t just able to make manufactured items. Everything that grows from the Earth, he makes; every living creature he fashions, including even himself. And on top of all that he does – Earth, heaven, gods, the things in the heavens, things in Hades under the Earth – he fashions it all.’

  Plato, Republic, 596c

  This quote is very interesting: while the concept of the Forms is certainly not new, what is startlingly different is this reference to a ‘divine’ craftsman. This certainly suggests that Book X was written at a later date, for he writes much more on the divine craftsman, this ‘creator god’ in his later dialogue Timaeus (see Chapter 11). At this point, however, such an introduction raises far more questions than it answers, especially given what he says earlier in Republic regarding the Forms as eternal, so surely this divine craftsman could not have made the Forms too!

  Socrates now states that there are effectively three couches that are in descending order of reality, so:

  • The Form of the couch is made by the divine craftsman in the quote above. This is the ‘real’ couch.

  • The couch that is made by a human craftsman. This partakes in the Form of the couch, but is removed from the real couch.

  • The painter who paints a couch made by a craftsman and, therefore, is further removed from the Form of the couch.

  Seen in this way, the painter is producing an imitation of an imitation and is far removed from truth or ‘two removes from nature’ (597e) as Socrates describes it. One may respond that the painter could be producing a work of art using the Form of the couch as his model, rather than appealing to the product of the human craftsman, in which case he – like the craftsman – would only be one remove from nature. However, Socrates anticipates this and argues that this cannot be the case. A couch that exists in the world is as it is; a three-dimensional object that takes up space in the world. When someone looks at the object he or she is seeing it from a certain perspective depending on where he or she is standing, what the light in the room is like, etc. Therefore, one perspective will vary from another and this is what the painter does: produces a perspective of the couch. Of course, this was long before the various art movements in recent years that have left behind merely representation and in which painters may well argue that what they produce is ‘beyond’ human perspective. To what extent, for example, is abstract art independent of any visual reference to things in the world?

  Socrates then extends this argument to all the arts, including that of tragic poetry. Socrates points to Homer as an example here and he has to show that a poet is in the same category as a painter, because he is aware of the view that many consider poets in a different category, remembering what has been said earlier (see Chapter 1) that they were regarded in many cases as virtually prophets in themselves. Poets, it could be argued, are only once removed from the truth because they communicate directly with the gods and are not mere imitators of the world around them, to which Socrates responds with the following:

  ‘If he [Homer] were really and truly knowledgeable about the things he is imitating, I imagine he would much sooner busy himself with doing rather than imitating.’

  Plato, Republic, 599b

  Socrates then proceeds to produce empirical evidence to show that Homer ‘contributed nothing to public life’ (600a). In other words, despite his claim to knowledge, and therefore, ‘able to recognize the sorts of things people do that will make them better or worse people’ (599d), Homer has not governed any great cities to make them better, or invented anything!

  Plato’s criticisms of art and artists are certainly extremely harsh, but nonetheless consistent with his views on reason and truth, together with his portrayal of Socrates as a plain talker and thus disinclined to engage in poetical and flowery language. However, his view of art is also incredibly simplistic and denies the complexity and variety of artistry, which though more varied today than in Plato’s time, was nonetheless even then capable of many forms of expression. Criticism of what painters may do does not really carry over that well to what the poets do. The popularity of Greek theatre in our contemporary world demonstrates that it often expresses universal values: it tells us something about ourselves, our humanity, and therefore, it does ‘teach’ us something.

  THE STOIC ARGUMENT (603C–606D)

  This is sometimes referred to as the psychological critique of poetry as it is more concerned with the effect the arts have on the spectator. It is also more ethical in nature because the psychological effects upset the soul which, in turn, affects our moral character.

  ‘Reflection,’ I said; ‘reflection about what has happened, so that one can respond to the fall of the dice, as it were, and dispose one’s affairs in the way that reason decides would be best, instead of behaving like children who have fallen over, wasting one’s time howling and clutching, whichever part is hurt.’

  Plato, Republic, 604c

  Socrates then goes on to talk about what happens when someone meets with a misfortune, ‘for example when he loses a son, or something else he values highly’ (603e) and how the resultant grief caused by this makes it more difficult for the person to cope with life. Why is this the case, Glaucon asks, and in the above quote Socrates states that it is because it distracts from the ability to engage in reflection, instead ‘wasting one’s time howling and clutching’.

  Presumably, being consumed by grief, as the phrase itself suggests, results in being incapable of running your life in an effective manner. The more rational and reflective person will adopt a Stoic approach and that it is:

  ‘… best to be as calm as possible in misfortune and not to be upset, on the grounds, first, that it is not yet clear which things are good or bad; second, that taking them hard makes things no better for the future; third, that nothing in human affairs is worth serious attention…’

  Plato, Republic, 604b, c

  One wonders if Plato might at least allow some compassionate leave, but he regards the most important thing is to demonstrate calmness and reflection in public life especially.

  In terms of the arts, anyone familiar with Greek tragedy knows only too well how much is devoted to grief and to public demonstrations of ‘howling and clutching’, and so, Plato believes, these public displays are harmful to one’s moral character. When, for example, you watch a play like Sophocles’ tragedy Oedipus Rex you empathize with the characters; you feel pity, you feel fear. More than this, however, is that the audience enjoys witnessing these displays and, as a consequence, the spectator ends up wallowing in his or her own misfortunes. Although Plato does not speculate too much on the reasons why, he is right to be making this psychological point and it links with what he says about the importance of katharsis (see Chapter 5).

  Aristotle on catharsis

  The concept of catharsis is often associated with Aristotle and his work Poetics although, in fact, he said little about it, and the result is hundreds of years of scholarship trying to determine what Aristotle meant by it. One perspective is that Aristotle saw the viewing of tragedy as important as a form of ‘purgation’: a way of cleansing our suppressed emotions.

  If the audience enjoys watching tragedy and it may even help in their emotional well-being, then why is Plato so critical of it? The
criticism seems somewhat similar to that raised in Book III of Republic: that they represent bad role models, which results in the audience imitating these actions in real life, but this is not quite the same for, in Book III, we are dealing with characters, the gods primarily, who are great heroes, or even superheroes, but in tragedies we are dealing with characters who display our ‘baser’ elements and experience the kinds of things in life we would much rather avoid if we had the choice. Rather, it is the concern of Plato that releasing our suppressed, irrational part is not therapeutic at all in the ‘catharsis’ sense, but rather undermines reason and its ability to control the soul. Rather than promote our mental well-being, it upsets it.

  Plato does not restrict himself just to tragedy, however, but also has a few words to say about comedy. The best kind of comedy can transverse space and time, and much Ancient Greek comedy is not that different from the kind we watch today: lots of dirty jokes and innuendoes, references to bodily functions, and so on. But Plato states that when we go to see a comedy we laugh at things that we would be ashamed to laugh at if we were at home alone. Like tragedy, comedy brings out the worse in us.

  The Myth of Er

  From 614b of Book X, Plato gives a lengthy anecdote called the Myth of Er. While the first part of Book X is concerned with returning to the topic of poetry, this latter part returns us to the predominant topic of Republic: justice. Earlier in Republic, Socrates has argued that it is better to be just than unjust because it promotes well-being – a well-ordered soul – and, indeed, you will be happier. Now, however, he wants to also add that you should be just not only for the sake of this life, but you need to keep in mind the effects of your actions for the afterlife. However, in order to do this, Socrates needs to argue that there is an afterlife for you to be concerned about.