Today, we continue our read-along of Plato’s Republic, the latest installment in our philosophical read-alongs. Here’s the schedule:

• March 31: Book I

• April 7: Book II

• April 14: Book III

• April 21: Reading Week

• April 28: Book IV

• May 5: Book V

• May 8: Members-Only Zoom Call, 3 PM Eastern

• May 12: Book VI

• May 18: Members-Only Zoom Call, 8 PM Eastern

• May 19: Book VII

• May 26: Reading Week

• June 2: Book VIII

• June 9: Book IX

• June 16: Book X

• June 22: Members-Only Zoom Call, 8 PM Eastern

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At the end of Book VI, Socrates was giving a defense of the value of philosophy. His claim is that philosophers should rule because they are in love with the whole of reality. He goes on to enumerate a philosopher’s virtues: truthfulness, self-discipline, greatness of spirit, courage, justice, quickness of mind, good memory, refinement, and charm. But above all, the answer is that philosophers should rule, should become philosopher-kings, because they possess knowledge of the Good.

These philosophers have found a way to step out of the world of appearances and focus the mind on something better, perhaps something higher. (One way the mind is encouraged to do this is through the study of mathematics.) Book VII describes this again in a famous passage we have come to call the allegory of the cave.

Imagine you are in a cave. You have lived in this cave since birth; it is the only home you have ever known. In this cave, you have lived your life chained to a wall, and the chains prevent you from turning your neck, so that at all times you are facing another wall. There is a fire burning behind you – though you have never seen it directly– and this fire casts light on the wall you face. All you can observe are shadows dancing along the wall. You and your fellow prisoners hold contests to see who can best observe the passing of the shadows and make predictions about the future; the winners of these contests are held in high regard, given honors and glories; since you have never known anything else, you might feel content.

Now suppose that your chains were to one day be loosened. You are suddenly compelled to stand, to look around. You notice the fire, and beyond the fire you notice the mouth of the cave where a more intense light shines. As you work your way to the mouth of the cave, you will likely suffer: your neck will be stiff, your eyes will take time to adjust to the light, your muscles will be unused to the exertion. As you leave the cave, you will be disoriented—that is because you are finally seeing the real world. Perhaps you will look directly into the sun, experiencing an even more intense pain as you try to enjoy the light. Your eyes would be dazzled and, for a time, you would be unable to see anything at all. But eventually, you will become acclimated, and you will realize that for the first time you are seeing the world as it actually is.

The prisoner’s journey upwards is ‘the ascent of the soul into the intellectual world,’ Socrates says. One way of understanding this is in terms of the Forms; the prisoner is gaining insight into something eternal. Another, less metaphysically-laden way of understanding this is in terms of education. In other words, it is the story of a person who begins to truly think.

Last night during our subscriber Zoom call, one participant pointed out that this is similar to Heidegger’s reading of the allegory of the cave. The first sentence of Book VII is the key: ‘If we’re thinking about the effect of education – or the lack of it – on our nature…’

While in the cave, there were ways to find amusement. The prisoners compete to see who can make predictions as a form of vying for status. Socrates claims, and Galucon agrees, that the one who has escaped and has seen the real world will not want to return to this way of living.

Making this point, Socrates quotes Homer, saying it is better to be a poor servant of a poor master. Glaucon does not ask for an elaboration; it is assumed that the reader of the dialogues will understand the relevance of the poet here. The passage to which Socrates alludes is found in Book 11 of Homer’s Odyssey. Odysseus has found Achilles in the world of the dead, and he speaks of the honors Achilles enjoys even in death. Achilles responds bitterly:

No winning words about death to me, shining Odysseus!

By god, I’d rather slave on earth for another man—

Some dirt-poor tenant farmer who scrapes to keep alive–

Than rule down here over all the breathless dead.

Achilles’ words serve to reinforce Socrates’ point. The lowest form of existence in the world outside of the cave, the equivalent of a poor servant of a poor master, is superior to the life of illusion that is found in the cave, even if life in the cave comes with glories, honors, or comforts.

And yet, the philosopher must return to the cave to rule.

It is up to us, then, as founders of the city, to compel the best natures to get as far as that study which we said earlier was the most important – to make that ascent, and view the good. And when they have made it, and seen all they need to see, we must not allow them to do what they are allowed to at the moment…Remain there and refuse to come back down again to the prisoners we were talking about, or share in their hardships and rewards – be they trivial or substantial. (519d)

In The Life of the Mind, Hannah Arendt documents (quite extensively) how withdrawing from the world was seen as a necessity for thinking. In part this is due to the invisible character of mental activity, but it is also due to the distractions of the world. We cannot think if we do not withdraw (or, to return to Plato’s metaphor, if we’re in the cave). But Socrates says the philosopher must go back into the cave to rule.

So, we must train philosopher-kings. Much of Book VII focuses on the sort of education that a would-be philosopher should receive. Mathematics makes up a substantial portion of that education. One needs calculation and the ability to count. (Socrates analyses the branches of mathematics – I’m leery of running up against Substack’s email length limit, so I’ll pass over this. However, we can discuss it down in the comments.) The education of the philosopher then culminates in dialectics, the use of reason to make sense of things.

‘All this practice of the sciences we have just outlined,’ Socrates says, ‘has precisely this power to direct the best element in the soul upwards toward the contemplation of what is best among the things that are’ (532c).

So, this is how we bring Callipolis about. It also, seemingly, completes the discussion of the city and the soul (541b). We are now able to return to a subject from Book V: the deviant forms of government.

Here are two of my favorite comments from last week’s discussion.

Michelle writes:

I’m reading the Human Condition concurrently, having missed that read along, and something that’s been bothering me all along is how Plato’s ideal city entirely lacks a polis. As I understand Arendt’s analysis, things of necessity are private/household concerns. Plato has constructed a city that is entirely necessity-oriented and has no public life of any kind.

You could interpret this as another consequence of tyranny. But maybe it is further indication that this is meant as an extended metaphor for an individual life. There is no polis because there is no public.

This is a very good observation. (It also highlights something we should do more of in the future: finding interesting themes across the texts we are reading.) Civic or public life has apparently dropped out of the picture. In an effort to build a city that functions ‘properly’, we seem to have lost sight of what makes a city worth living in. (I can’t help but think of how poor a city is if it lacks poets.)

Wayne writes:

After reading Jared's comments on this chapter and reflecting on the reading, it occurs to me that the book so far could be Plato's answer to the unspoken question: "What use is a philospher to society?" I can see that to answer it, Plato had to build an ideal society in order to properly place the philospher.

What use is a philosopher to a society today? I haven't given it as rigorous a thought as Plato, but so far I feel it's for similar reasons: to properly lead society, maybe not in governing, but maybe in its moral and ethical issues.

Philosophers have always enjoyed reflecting on their own practice, often in a self-justifying way, but it is a worthwhile question to ask. The philosopher is not at home in the world, as Socrates argued in Book VI. Yet the philosopher is forced back into the world, seemingly because justice demands it. It is an interesting tension.

For Plato, being a philosopher is a great responsibility.