The Philosopher-King

Our chief source of information regarding Plato's philosophy is Plato himself. We still have all the works attributed to him by ancient scholars. The most important of these are philosophical dialogues. We have already seen material from some of these in Chapters 3 and 4: the Apology, Crito, Phaedo, Theaetetus, Timaeus, Gorgias, Protagoras, Meno, and the Republic. We also have the summaries and analyses of some of Plato's doctrines left by his greatest student, Aristotle. We probably have more biographical information about Plato than about any other ancient philosopher, much of it from Diogenes Läertius's Life of Plato. There is also a controversial collection of thirteen letters and some dialogues whose authenticity some scholars dispute. One of these, Letter: VII, is of special interest because of its comments regarding the mature Plato's attitudes toward democracy in view of the way Socrates was treated by it. Perhaps no single work of Western philosophy has been read by as many people as Plato's Republic. It is considered by most philosophers to be Plato's most impressive and important work because it presents his overall philosophy in a dramatic, organized, and brilliant form. We'll use the Republic as the basis for our introduction to this would-be philosopher-king, but first let us start with a brief sketch of Plato's life.

"Besides, this at any rate I know, that if there were to be a treatise or a lecture on the [ideal society], I could do it best." -Plato

Plato used the concept of a divided line to illustrate the relationship of knowledge to opinion, reality to appearance, metaphysics to epistemology, and the world of being to the world of becoming. The Divided Line shows that both knowledge and opinion deal with Forms, though in different ways. For as all nature is akin, and the soul has [already] learned all things, there is no difficulty in ... learning ... all the rest, if a man is strenuous and does not faint; for all enquiry is but recollection. — Plato The Divided Line consists of two basic sections, each unevenly divided into two segments. The four segments illustrate four ways of apprehending four components of reality; two each of being and becoming. Figure 5.1 is a representation of the Divided Line that you can refer to as you read Plato's presentation of it. Note how the four metaphysical levels of reality correspond to four epistemological ways of apprehending the Forms. With Figure 5.1 as a guide, let's take a look at what Plato said about the Divided Line. In this passage, Socrates is describing a conversation he had with Plato's older brother, Glaucon: Figure 5.1 Plato's Divided Line A 1 B 5 World of Forms (Being) C 1 D 5 Physical World (Becoming) Segments A, B, C, D represent decreasing degrees of truth. Each degree of truth corresponds to a different kind of thinking and different level of reality. A: This is the level of pure intelligence or understanding. Here the soul directly apprehends truth at its highest level. B: This is the level of reasoning; specifically, mathematical thinking and deductive reasoning. C: This is the level of belief or common opinions about physical objects, morals, politics, practical affairs. D: This is the level of illusion, dominated by secondhand opinions and uncritical impressions. (This characterization of the lowest level goes beyond what Plato says in this section but is required considering what he does say in the Allegory of the Cave and Book X about poetry and art.)

"Well, take a line divided into two unequal parts, corresponding to the visible and intelligible worlds, and then divide the two parts again in the same ratio, to represent degrees of clarity and obscurity. In the visible world, one section stands for images: by 'images' I mean first shadows, then reflections in water and other close grained, polished surfaces, and all that sort of thing if you understand me." "I understand." "Let the other section stand for the objects which are the originals of the images—animals, plants and manufactured objects of all kinds." "Very good." "Would you be prepared to admit that these sections differ in their degree of truth, and that the relation of image to the original is the same as that of opinion and knowledge?" "I would." "Then consider next how the intelligible part of the line is to be divided. In one section the mind uses the originals of the visible world in their turn as images, and has to base its inquiries on assumptions and proceed from them to its conclusions instead of going back to first principles: in the other it proceeds from assumption back to self-sufficient first principles, making no use of the images employed by the other section, but pursuing its inquiry solely by means of Forms.... "... it treats assumptions not as principles, but as assumptions in the true sense, that is, as starting points and steps in the ascent to the universal, self-sufficient first principle; when it has reached that principle it can again descend, by keeping to the consequences that follow from it, to a final conclusion. The whole procedure involves nothing in the sensible world, but deals throughout with Forms and finishes with Forms."

Attempts to explain how one kind of thing changes into another generated ambiguities and seeming contradictions: How could "one thing" somehow change into something else? In what sense can my twelve-year-old dog Daiquiri be the "same" dog she was five years ago? Does this mean that Daiquiri is both the same dog she was and a different dog? In what sense does the same person change from an infant into a philosophy student? Plato recognized the full importance of the questions raised by the Presocratics concerning coherent explanations of how things change, how reality "becomes" appearance, how appearances are related to reality, and other fundamental issues. The relationship between appearance and reality, the problem of "the one and the many," and the nature of change needed to be clarified before any refutation to the sophistic assault on rationality was possible.

According to Plato, the Sophists could not discover truth because they were only concerned with the Heraclitean world of sensibles, the world of ever-changing perceptions and customs. But the very essence of knowledge is unchanging. What is true is always true. Therefore, whatever is relative and always changing cannot be true. Truth and knowledge are found in another realm of reality: the level of being that Parmenides tried to characterize. Plato ... knew that our reason, if left to itself, tries to soar up to knowledge to which no object that experience may give can ever correspond; but which is nonetheless real, and by no means a cobweb of the brain. — Immanuel Kant Plato believed that this second reality, although closely related to the world of becoming, exists independently of it. This other reality has many of the qualities Parmenides ascribed to the one (being): It is not physical, and it is not affected by space and time. According to Plato, what is eternal is real; what changes is only appearance. We can have knowledge of what is eternal (being); of appearances (becoming), there can be only opinions. Plato insisted that whatever is permanent is superior to whatever is not. Therefore, reality is superior to appearance, and knowledge (reality) is superior to opinion (appearance).

The ills of democracy were aggravated for Plato by a pattern of increasing self-indulgence, which he thought would pass from generation to generation, until sooner or later pleasures and excesses would actually tyrannize the soul itself: According to Plato, "a democracy is the most attractive of all societies. The diversity of its characters, like the different colours in a patterned dress, make it look very attractive.... Perhaps most people would, for this reason, judge it to be the best form of society ... [if they] judge by appearances." Do you think Plato's opinion of democracy is confirmed by such spectacles as the Jon Stewart/Stephen Colbert "Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear" (left) and the Glenn Beck "Restoring Honor" rally (right)? JIM BOURG/Reuters/Landov; ALEXIS C. GLENN/UPI/Landov No educated man stating plainly the elementary notions that every educated man holds about the matters that principally concern government could be elected to office in a democratic state, save perhaps by a miracle. His frankness would arouse fears, and those fears would run against him; it is his business to arouse fears that will run in favour of him. — H. L. Mencken Isn't this the reason ... why the passion of sex has for so long been called a tyrant? ... And isn't there also a touch of the tyrant about a man who's drunk? ... And the madman whose mind is unhinged imagines he can control gods and men and is quite ready to try.... Then a precise definition of a tyrannical man is one who, either by birth or habit or both, combines the characteristics of drunkenness, lust, and madness.... And how does he live? ... When a master passion has absolute control of a man's mind, I suppose life is a round of holidays and dinners and parties and girl-friends and so on.... And there will be a formidable extra crop of desires growing all the time and needing satisfaction.... So whatever income he has will soon be expended, and he'll start borrowing and drawing on capital. ... When these sources fail, his large brood of desires will howl aloud.... He must get something from somewhere or his life will be torment and agony.

According to Plato, the built-in excesses of democracy already contain the seeds of tyranny. Tyranny is a form of government in which all power rests in a single individual, the tyrant. For Plato, the tyrant is the most imbalanced type of personality. A tyrant is always a slave to his own strong passions and desires. An individual who is controlled by drugs or lust is obviously a slave. But so is the politically powerful leader who is a slave to his own lust for power and domination. Once again, things are not as they initially appear. What looks like freedom is in reality lack of control; what looks like power is in truth a form of enslavement. Philosophical Query Do you think things like laws against hate speech and fundamentalist reactions against "the excesses of Western democracy" support Plato's argument that the inevitable result of democracy is "too much liberty" and that widespread "abuses" of liberty lead to demands for "law and order" and, ultimately, tyranny? What other examples can you think of to buttress Plato's case? What examples to weaken it? (As you ponder this, note that calls for restrictions on personal freedom come from both liberal and conservative thinkers.)

Plato concluded that the solution to the basic problem of knowledge lay in acknowledging that both Heraclitus and Parmenides were partially correct in their efforts to characterize reality (Chapter 2). Heraclitus asserted that the "one" is some kind of orderly cycle or process of change. He said that "change alone is unchanging." Parmenides, in contrast, referred to the "one" as being. Parmenides argued that being is perfect and complete or whole. It cannot move or change. Parmenidean being is material; "it is the being of the visible cosmos, immobilized, and to a great extent purified, but still clearly recognizable." According to Plato, Heraclitus and Parmenides probably thought they were discussing things that could be sensed or perceived as part of the physical world. (We will refer to such things as "sensibles," for short.) The Sophists' skeptical arguments were also aimed at contradictions and difficulties generated by problems of sensation and perception. (See Chapter 3.) What if, Plato wondered, reality is not a single thing (a monism) but rather a dualism? One reality might be Heraclitean and another Parmenidean—one reality in constant change and the other eternally changeless:

After an initial critical period during which, with Socrates as spokesperson, Plato called into question his contemporaries' opinions and values, he adopted a more dogmatic approach, staking out a certain number of positions in the fields of ethics, epistemology, and ontology. In all these domains, one idea was stressed above all others: that of transcendence, implying on the one hand the division of reality into two realms—the sensible, the realm of individuals that is continually changing, and the intelligible, the realm of the absolutely immutable—and on the other hand the distinction, within each human being, between a mortal body endowed with five senses and an immortal soul that can grasp the intelligible. If all reality is "sensible," then what do we miss when a loved one dies? Is profound grief merely a biochemical condition or brain state—or is there more to persons than what can be perceived with the senses? Perhaps something transcendent? ©Istockphoto.com/Steve Debenport Of course a supposition is not evidence. Plato needed to prove the dual nature of reality. Part of the proof seemed easy enough: It is obvious that a world of "sensibles" exists. And the sensible world certainly seems to be one of change: growth cycles, soil erosion, flowing rivers, the wear and tear of the implements of daily living, and so on. Further, this change is orderly: The same seasons follow the same seasons, dogs do not give birth to stones, objects fall down and not up. So, as far as the world of sensibles is concerned, Heraclitus seems to be correct. But a completely Heraclitean world of observable change, for all its obviousness, would be a world devoid of the possibility of knowledge and certainty, according to Plato. Such a world would be a world of appearances only, a realm of opinion, not knowledge. Plato called this condition the world of becoming.

Democracy is the best form of government. Can there be any doubt? One of the great traditions of American history has been that "any boy can grow up to be president." And certainly our history suggests a continuous (if sometimes painfully slow) movement toward extending greater and greater choices and opportunities to all our citizens. Now it's no longer "any boy can grow up to be president," but "any child." Barriers of skin color, creed, and social class are being removed. The only limits on our dreams are our own. And someday these barriers may disappear as we learn new ways to abolish disadvantages of birth or social status. As citizens of a democracy, we are free to seek any position we wish in society. The presidency itself has only three requirements: citizenship, age, and a majority of electoral college votes. If in practice our presidents come from the wealthier, more educated classes, they still do not need to meet any stringent requirements of self-discipline, character, or wisdom. Nor do we who elect them. This is the glory of democracy. Picture now a November morning. A line of voters waits to elect the next president of the United States. You have spent weeks critically assessing a seemingly endless series of speeches and debates (going so far as to annotate written transcripts). You've subscribed to liberal and conservative podcasts, blogs, magazines, and newspapers in order to get as complete a picture of the candidates' records and the issues as you can. You've read long political editorials as well as your voter's pamphlet. Because there are a number of lesser offices, bond issues, and legislative amendments on the ballot, you've brought a written list of your carefully reasoned decisions with you to the polls. Patiently waiting your turn, you overhear a small group of people standing in line behind you. A woman announces, "I'm voting for X. She's a woman, and that's good enough for me." Someone else says, "My dad always voted Republican, so I'm voting Democrat!" A third person chimes in, "I'm not voting for Y. He's a member of the Tea Party." A fourth voter announces that she will renounce her citizenship before she votes for a progressive socialist." Someone asks about "all those propositions and stuff," and the group laughs. "Who cares?" someone else snaps. "None of that stuff makes any difference." "Yeah," another responds, "there are too many to keep straight anyway. I just vote yes, no, yes, at random." Yet another says, "As a single parent, I'm only interested in Prop. M, since I need money for child care. I'll just guess at the rest." Disturbed by this, you suddenly notice that the man in front of you is weaving. You ask if he's sick, and he laughingly answers, with the unmistakable smell of beer on his breath: "Heck, no. I'm loaded. It's the only way to vote." You vote anyway but can't shake your anger for a long time. It doesn't seem fair that these irresponsible votes should equal your carefully researched and reasoned decisions. They might even cancel out your vote. It's worse than unfair. It's dumb. It's not reasonable, you think. There should be some requirement for voting. Not anything unfair or discriminatory, just reasonable. And come to think of it, there should be some kind of test or something for politicians. They're a pretty unethical and dumb lot, too.

Anyone who has visualized a fairer, more ideal society has already shared at least some ideas with Plato, perhaps the greatest, and certainly one of the most imposing and influential, philosophers in the Western world. Philosophical Query As persistent voting controversies make clear, Americans have reason to be wary of requirements for voting. In the past, voting requirements have been used to prevent women and people of certain ethnic groups from voting. On the other hand, a case might be made that by not having some minimal standard of preparedness and awareness, we make a mockery of "choosing." How can an ignorant voter "choose" anything? Does "choosing" matter? Can I be truly free if I am uninformed and ignorant? Discuss from both sides.

Plato's Republic and a later dialogue called Laws outline utopias—that is, perfect, ideal societies. (Although Plato originated the idea, the word utopia was coined by Sir Thomas More in 1516.) A Platonic utopia would be enormously difficult, perhaps impossible, to achieve. But a consideration of Plato's program for a utopia will prove to be worthwhile on many counts. For Plato, the ideal Form of government is rule by philosopher-kings, not democracy. Because our current culture is democratic and individualistic in so many respects, many of us view democracy as the ideal form of government, without giving any other possibilities serious consideration. For that reason alone, consideration of an elitist alternative can be illuminating. It may help us to better identify the virtues of our own society—and we may get a clearer look at its shortcomings. What would Plato think of our style of democracy, which not only allows, but encourages, individuals to switch from governing to being governed and which encourages us to select ourselves as fit to be philosopher-kings? DENNIS BRACK/Landov In Book VIII of the Republic, Plato discusses different kinds of governments and the types of souls each produces. He argues that democracy grows out of a type of government called oligarchy, the rule of a wealthy few. Because the chief aim of the oligarchs is to get rich, they create a constitution and type of government that encourage the acquisition of property.

But just having property isn't enough. Plato asks, "Doesn't oligarchy change into democracy because of lack of restraint in the pursuit of its objective of getting as rich as possible?" The seeds of democracy, according to Plato, are the love of property and riches, and a corresponding desire for a free economy: In order to preserve their wealth, oligarchs must encourage trading in real estate, heavy borrowing, and lack of self-control. In order to increase wealth, "money people" need to stimulate irrational but constant consumption by everyone else. Plato declares, "It should then be clear that love of money and adequate self-discipline in its citizens are two things that can't co-exist in any society; one or the other must be neglected." Philosophical Query Do you agree with Plato that democracy is incompatible with self-discipline? What sort of self-discipline do you think Plato was concerned about? In Plato's diagnosis, as the rich get richer, the poor grow angrier until they somehow overthrow the rich, either through armed revolt or by using social and legal pressure. Resentful over their status, the poor initiate a program of equality. Then democracy originates when the poor win, kill or exile their opponents, and give the rest equal rights and opportunity of office. ... There is liberty and freedom of speech in plenty, and every individual is free to do as he likes. ... That being so, won't everyone arrange his life as pleases him best? ... a democracy is the most attractive of all societies. The diversity of its characters, like the different colours in a patterned dress, make it look very attractive. ... Perhaps most people would, for this reason, judge it to be the best form of society ... [if they] judge by appearances. A democratic state, Plato says, will contain every type of human temperament. But the predominant characteristic of democracy is lack of guidance and self-control, lack of wisdom, and lack of temperance. Swayed by opinion rather than grounded in knowledge, the democratic state is in a state of constant flux, always becoming. It is hostile to the possibility of a fixed hierarchy of being: Plato says that, in a democracy, "there's no distinction between citizen and alien and foreigner" and warns that "excessive liberty" eventually results in chaos, anger, and distrust. Do the intense feelings aroused by today's "immigration issue" buttress his case, or are they more evidence of democratic liberty? ©iStock.com/Alejandro Rivera; ©iStock.com/VallarieE In a democracy ... there's no compulsion either to exercise authority if you are capable of it, or to submit to authority if you don't want to; you needn't fight if there's a war, or you can wage a private war in peacetime if you don't like peace.... It's a wonderfully pleasant way of carrying on in the short run, isn't it? Then the master passion runs wild and takes madness into its service; any decent options or desires and any feelings of shame still left are killed or thrown out, until all discipline is swept away, and madness usurps its place. — Plato Democracy is so pleasant, Plato asserts, that even those convicted of a crime in a democracy can continue "to go about among their fellows." H. D. P. Lee paraphrases Plato's description of the democratic type as versatile but lacking principle. Most damning of all, Plato says, democracy violates the principle of functional order and rule by reason. He asserts that only very rare and exceptional individuals can grow up to be good people without strict training from infancy, in a good environment. But democracy lacks the order and balance to provide such an environment. At its most extreme, the disordered, democratic soul resists all limits, both internal and social: All pleasures are equal and should have equal rights. [Such a character] lives for the pleasure of the moment. One day it's wine, women, and song, the next bread and water; one day it's hard physical training, the next indolence and ease, and then a period of philosophic study.... There's no order or restraint in [this] life and [such a person] reckons [this] way of living is pleasant, free, and happy.... It's a life which many men and women would envy, it has so many possibilities. For Deeper Consideration We hear a great deal these days about the virtues of democracy. What might Plato think of our "democratic culture"? As you think about this, consider political, social, and cultural trends that Plato could cite as supporting evidence for his characterization of democracy and the democratic soul. Why does Plato argue that democracy turns into tyranny? Does his prediction seem plausible, or is he overlooking something? If so, what?

The most damning charge that can be leveled at all enlightenment philosophies is that no matter how initially intriguing or appealing they seem, they remain impractical and unrealistic in the world as most of us experience and understand it. In Plato's case, we might ask ourselves whether we have any supportable firsthand evidence for believing in actual levels of reality. Does a story like the Allegory of the Cave help us determine who is enlightened and who is deluded? Do the Divided Line and Simile of the Sun do anything besides reflect certain psychological states? The safest general characterization of the European philosophical tradition is that it consists of a series of footnotes to Plato. — Alfred North Whitehead On the other hand, who can doubt the need for order and balance in both the individual and society? Further, it would not be difficult to make Plato's case against the "excesses of democracy" using trends and events from our own time. We might even find some merit in his claim that letting each individual choose his or her occupation based solely (or even chiefly) on strength of desire and ambition leads to great overall unhappiness. When we rank occupations by income and prestige, most of the tasks needed for a good society are less desirable than a few glamorous, less useful ones. Which, then, does more lasting harm: letting everyone who wishes scramble for the top of the heap or carefully matching people's basic abilities and personalities with various levels of education and occupation? We might find Plato's three categories of people—guardians, warriors, and workers—too restricting, but does that rule out a more realistic division of opportunities and social roles?

Finally, there is much to be said for living a well-rounded life. That includes, of course, being individually balanced. A society that values specialization and material success to the extent that this society does makes personal growth (well-roundedness), as opposed to self-indulgence, difficult. Interestingly, even though Plato's great pupil Aristotle turns away from the theory of Forms, he follows the direction in which his great teacher pointed and makes his own case for the fully functioning, whole, balanced human being. Aristotle is the subject of the next chapter.

For Plato, virtue is excellence of function (which reflects form). We must identify a thing's function before we can fully evaluate it. The healthy good, or virtuous, soul is one in which all parts function harmoniously. The human soul resembles the state in that it too is divided into three parts. The three parts of the soul are reason, spirit, and appetite. Plato believed in weakness of will; he disagreed with Socrates' belief that "to know the good is to do the good." According to Plato, we most clearly encounter each part of our souls when we're faced with a difficult choice. Suppose, for example, that you are on a date with someone who wants to go dancing and stay out late. You, on the other hand, have an important test early the next morning. Your reason says: "Go home, review your notes, rest. You can go dancing another time, but you cannot make up this important test." Your appetite says: "I'd love a pizza. I'd love to party." Your spirit, which is concerned with honor, says: "This is awful! I hate it! I don't know what to do. I sort of want to study—but I'd really like to go out. Oh my, oh my!" Most of us are intimately familiar with what can be characterized as parts of ourselves. Plato called them parts of the soul.

In the Phaedrus, Plato compares the soul to a chariot being pulled by two horses. One horse needs no touch from the whip, responding instantly to whispers and spoken commands. The other horse is full of "insolence and pride" and "barely yields to whip and spur." The charioteer knows where he wants to go but needs the help of both horses to get there. The driver, of course, corresponds to reason; the horse that responds to the merest whisper corresponds to spirit (or will), and the bad but powerful horse represents appetite. Bodily exercise, when compulsory, does no harm to the body; but knowledge which is acquired under compulsion obtains no hold on the mind. — Plato If the charioteer is unable to control both horses, he will be dragged all over the place by the stronger horse. It is the function and therefore the duty and the right of the charioteer to control the horses. In the Republic, Plato says: So the reason ought to rule, having the ability and foresight to act for the whole, and the spirit ought to obey and support it. And this concord between them is effected, as we said, by a combination of intellectual and physical training, which tunes up the reason by intellectual training and tones down the crudeness of natural high spirits by harmony and rhythm.

The Republic reveals Plato's view that a good life can be lived only in a good society because no one can live a truly good life in an irrational, imbalanced society. Nor can one live a truly good life without having some social activities, obligations, and concerns. Plato said that society originates because no individual is self-sufficient. The just or ideal state meets three basic categories of needs: (1) nourishing needs (food, shelter, clothing); (2) protection needs (military, police); (3) ordering needs (leadership, government). These needs are best met by members of three corresponding classes of people: (1) workers (computer programmer, banker, truck driver); (2) warriors (soldiers, police officers, firefighters); (3) guardians (philosopher-kings). A state is "just" when it functions fully. An unjust state is dysfunctional; it fails to meet some essential need. Only when all classes of people are virtuous according to their natures is the state whole, healthy, balanced, and just. The good life is nothing more—or less—than each individual functioning well according to his or her own nature, in a state that is well-ordered and wisely ruled.

Injustice is a form of imbalance for Plato. It occurs whenever a state does not function properly. Some imbalance always results when one part of the state tries to fulfill the function of another part. Justice, happiness, and the good life are interrelated functional results of order. Because the essence of a thing determines its proper order, function, and proper care, only those who have seen the Forms and seen the Good know what this essence is for the state or for individuals.

Plato was about forty years old when he founded his Academy (around 388 b.c.e.). Because, in Plato's view, "no present government [was] suitable for philosophy," the Academy was established as a philosophic retreat, isolated from the turmoil of Athenian politics, safe from the fate of Socrates. Its chief purpose was probably to educate people who would be fit to rule the just state. Plato's ideal educational program was a progressive one in which the study of mathematics, geometry, music, and so forth introduced discipline into the student's overall character and order into the student's mind. Only after the mind and soul were disciplined were a select few allowed to study ultimate philosophical principles. The material ruins of Plato's Academy may have decayed, but, appropriately, his ideas remain potent and timely. Getty Images/Getty Images

Ironically, considering the importance of the Academy and the influence it was to exert, we have no solid evidence concerning when it was founded, how it was organized, what exactly was studied, or what educational techniques were used. Most of Plato's writing seems to have been finished before he founded the Academy, with the exception of a few works completed when he was an old man. His chief function at the Academy was probably as a teacher and administrator. Here Plato lived for forty years, lecturing "without notes," until he died.

Plato identifies four "cardinal virtues" as necessary for a good society and for a happy individual. Cardinal virtues are essential, basic virtues that provide optimal functioning for the human soul. Temperance is another name for self-control and moderation. It is important for the worker class, but necessary for all three classes of people. The state, too, must control itself, not yielding either to the unjust demands of other states or to a lust for expansion or power. The state must not give in to an excess of liberty or repression. The healthy state resembles the healthy person. Both are moderate, self-disciplined, and guided by reason. The healthy soul is not controlled by appetites. Courage is the essential virtue of the warrior class. Courage is necessary to protect the community and to enforce the just laws of the guardians. In the individual, courage is a quality of will, an essential drive that provides a person with stamina and energy. Wisdom is the virtue associated with the guardians who are called the philosopher-kings. In the individual, wisdom is present when the rational part of the soul is healthy and in control. Wisdom is found only in a community ruled by those fit by nature and training to guide it: the philosopher-kings who have seen the Good.

Justice is the result of the other three cardinal virtues, in much the same way that bodily health is the result of the proper functioning of all organs and systems. Justice is excellence of function for the whole: Each essential element works well, and together all elements blend into a balanced system in the just state and in the just individual. For Plato, justice extends far beyond a legal system. The just state is well, whole, vital. It nurtures each individual by providing a lifestyle appropriate to him or her.

In Plato's metaphysics, the level of being consists of timeless essences or entities called Forms. Such a metaphysics is sometimes called transcendental because it asserts that there is a plane of existence "above and beyond" our ordinary existence. To transcend anything is to go so far beyond it as to reach a qualitatively different level. The Platonic Forms are independently existing, nonspatial, nontemporal "somethings" ("kinds," "types," or "sorts") that cannot be known through the senses. Known in thought, these Forms are not ideas in the usual sense. Knowledge is always about Forms. It may be helpful to think about other meanings of the word form. "Form" sometimes refers to the shape, manner, style, or type of something. We make forms from which to mold dishes or statues, for example. We fill in business forms. The very notion of form implies something that provides general or essential order, structure, or shape for a particular instance. Thus, the form of something is sometimes called its structure or essence, or even its basic nature. Many of these everyday meanings involve the essence of a thing, the quality that makes it what it is. In Platonic terms, a thing's Form is what it uniquely and essentially is. However, exactly what Plato meant by "Forms" has remained a subject of intense philosophical debate and disagreement from Plato's time to ours. For over the past fifty years, the theory of Forms has been one of the most discussed parts of Plato's philosophy among English-speaking philosophers. And, still, philosophers cannot agree on exactly what Plato meant. The complexity of the problem is further compounded by the fact that although Plato places great importance on the Forms, he does not seem to have a very well worked out theory of Forms.

Nevertheless, because Plato's theory of Forms is central to the rest of his philosophy, and thus the basis for his theory of the ideal state, we need to take the time to develop a general sense of what Plato hoped to show with his theory of Forms, always keeping in mind that philosophers are still arguing over precisely what Plato meant.

Among other things, Plato wanted the theory of Forms to provide a rational explanation of how knowledge is possible. The Forms are the foundation of Plato's bold answer to the Sophists' skeptical assault on knowledge and to their relativistic rejection of universal (absolute) truths. Defense of absolute, unchanging truths is difficult under the best of circumstances; it is especially difficult if we wish to move beyond merely heartfelt belief in absolutes. Plato knew that unless he could offer more than faith in the existence of absolutes, more than authoritarian and dogmatic pronouncements, he would fail, as a philosopher, to meet the challenge of relativism. It is hard, too, to see how a weaver or a carpenter will be benefitted in regard to his own craft by knowing this [a form], or how the man who has viewed the Idea itself will be a better doctor or general thereby. For a doctor seems not even to study health in this way, but the health of man, or perhaps rather the health of a particular man; it is individuals that he is healing. — Aristotle Plato's task here is of more than mere historical interest to us; it bears on important epistemological questions: Is everything a matter of opinion? If not: (1) Is there any way to show that knowledge is possible? and (2) Is there any way those of us who are not wise or enlightened can identify those who are? That is, if we cannot always grasp the truth, can we at least identify those who can and thereby benefit from their counsel? If the answer to 2 is "no," then we are at the mercy of unverifiable beliefs, rule by force, rhetoric, and seduction. If one opinion is ultimately as good as any other, then one form of government is no better than any other, and there is no point in seeking truth or wisdom. All that matters is surviving as comfortably as possible (in my opinion).

On the other hand, if knowledge is possible, and if some opinions really are better than others, how can we justify democracy, a form of government that treats each citizen's opinion as equal? Put more forcefully: If knowledge exists, what would justify ignoring it? Can there be any reasonable justification for ignoring the difference between knowledge and opinion? In struggling to develop his theory of Forms, Plato was struggling to refute—not just deny—relativism and thereby preserve the distinction between knowledge and opinion. Plato reasoned that if he could solidly establish that knowledge is possible, and that knowledge exists, then he could also justify and preserve real (objective) distinctions between right and wrong, true and false, better and worse. Philosophical Query Is it possible to know that no one does know? Is it possible to know that no one does know that no one does know? Is it possible to know that no one can know that no one does know? How do you know? Or, how do you know that you don't know?

Ancient philosophers were aware that one extreme often produces another, nearly opposite, extreme in a never-ending effort to achieve balance. In Plato's view, the chief objective of democracy is "excessive liberty." In one of the more interesting and perhaps prophetic passages in the Republic, Plato describes the effects "too much liberty" will produce. As you read what he said so long ago, take note of parallels to our own culture. It becomes the thing for the father and son to change places, the father standing in awe of his son, and the son neither respecting nor fearing his parents, in order to assert his independence; and there's no distinction between citizen and alien and foreigner. And there are other more trivial things. The teacher fears and panders to his pupils, who in turn despise their teachers and attendants; and the young as a whole imitate their elders, argue with them and set themselves up against them, while their elders try to avoid the reputation of being disagreeable or strict by aping the young and mixing with them on terms of easy good fellowship. ... According to the American Pet Product Association, in 2013, Americans spent $56 billion on pets during a period of economic decline and social unrest. In his Republic, Plato says that one of the symptoms of democratic decadence is a culture-wide leveling among classes of people and even among species, as in "Love me, love my dog (or cat or hamster or...)." Was Plato on to something? Or did he overlook something? ©Istockphoto.com/catnap72 You would never believe—unless you had seen it for yourself—how much more liberty the domestic animals have in a democracy. Love me love my dog, as the proverb has it, and the same is true of horses and donkeys as well. ... Everything is full of this spirit of liberty. ... What it comes to is this, ... that the minds of the citizens become so sensitive that the least vestige of restraint is resented as intolerable, till finally, as you know, in their determination to have no master they disregard all laws, written or unwritten.

One form of shamelessness is an exaggerated sense of honor. In this condition, the individual is always ready to take offense. Every restriction or social limit is taken personally: "The least vestige of restraint is resented as intolerable." Consider: In recent years, a kindergartner was suspended from school for patting a teacher on the bottom (sexual harassment) and another for bringing a metal nail file to school, and a grade-schooler was sent home for chewing a Pop-Tart into a shape that looked like a gun ("zero tolerance" for anything that "looks like a weapon"). A school reacted to excessive absences and poor grades by requiring students to wear uniforms—and then pressuring the entire staff to wear them, too—so as "not to make the students feel like they're different." In 2014, a number of schools and colleges instituted policies requiring teachers and textbooks to warn of upcoming "triggers" that might make students uncomfortable. Triggers consist of any term or topic that anyone might find disturbing for personal reasons or past experiences. The greatest griefs are those we cause ourselves. — Sophocles According to Plato, the spoiled and undisciplined person grows used to playing now and paying later. When he cannot pay his own way, Plato says, he turns to his parents to gratify his desires. He sees their estate as "his due," and "if they don't give in to him, he'll try first to get his way by fraud and deceit." But "if his old mother and father put up a resistance and show fight ... [he will not] feel any hesitation about playing the tyrant with them." What begins as unlimited freedom ends up as the tyranny over reason by the lower parts of the soul.

The Greek root for "form" (eidos) is sometimes translated as "idea." Thus it is tempting to think of Forms as mental entities (ideas) that exist only in our minds. But Plato insists that the Forms are independent of any minds (real). To avoid this confusion, some philosophers translate eidos as "archetype" or "essence." According to Plato, each Form actually exists—pure and unchanging—regardless of continuous shifts in human opinions and alterations in the physical world of sensibles. Each Form is a pure, unmixed essence that exists independently of human consciousness. It is important to be very clear about this: Although the Forms actually exist, they are not physical objects. Forms are universal types or kinds that somehow exist outside of space and time. The physical world contains particular instances of the various universal Forms. Today we might call Forms abstract objects. Plato considers such abstract objects more real than concrete physical objects. I had a dream, and I heard in my dream that the primeval letters or elements out of which you and I and all other things are compounded have no reason or explanation; you can only name them, but no predicate can be either affirmed or denied of them ... if you mean to speak of this or that thing by itself alone. — Plato The sorts of things Plato refers to as Forms include geometrical, mathematical, and logical relationships (triangularity, equivalence, identity); virtues (goodness, wisdom, courage); and sensible properties (roundness, beauty, redness). Note that the physical sensations we associate with such qualities as roundness and redness are not the same thing as roundness and redness in and of themselves.

Particular things differ in terms of what Plato variously refers to as their "participation in," "sharing in," "resembling," or "reflecting" the Form roundness or the Form redness. There is only one Form of redness, for instance, although there can bea virtually infinite number of particular things that "share" some element or degree of redness, that "resemble" or "reflect" the essence of pure redness. But redness (the Form) is always the same regardless of any changes that occur in some particular object. When, for example, a red flower fades to pale pink, its participation in the Form redness decreases. There is, however, no decrease in the Form redness itself. What might Plato have meant by saying that particular things "resemble," "share in," "participate in," or "reflect" different Forms? Consider two apparently identical glass beads, each "reflecting" roundness and identity. Yet no sensible object is ever absolutely, truly, perfectly round, because sensible objects always contain "mixtures," "impurities," even "opposites." Under microscopic scrutiny, we would expect to find that the surface of the smoothest, purest glass bead ever discovered was minutely pitted or uneven—microscopically imperfect—yet imperfect nonetheless. At most, it might be "as round as physically possible." According to Plato, no two beads are, or ever can be, identically round. "Aha!" you may think, "but two glass beads can be identical—especially given today's computerized technologies and sophisticated manufacturing techniques." Stop and think a little further, though. What would it mean for two physical objects to be genuinely, absolutely, perfectly identical? In the strictest sense, "two things are identical if all the characteristics of one are also possessed by the other and vice versa." Is it possible for two glass beads to be absolutely identical? No, because in order to be identical—not just very, very similar—they would have to contain exactly the same silica molecules, atoms, quarks, neutrinos, and in exactly the same place at exactly the same time. Of course, they cannot do so, for if that were the case, there would be only one glass bead. Two very, very similar glass beads must be in two distinct places. By being in two distinct places at precisely the same moment, they are different from each other in respect to location. Thus, they are not—strictly speaking—identical. Finally, consider the kinds of reasons Plato might offer to support the claim that Forms exist independently of human consciousness: We have good reasons to believe that round objects existed before any perceivers (animals or people) did. Hence, roundness is not a property that depends on human minds for existence; roundness is more than just a human idea. Roundness itself—as distinct from any particular round thing—is unchanging. It cannot change from being roundness to, say, nearly roundness or oblongness or rectilinearity. Following basic laws of rationality, roundness is either roundness or it is not. And so for all Forms. (For a different view of whether objects and properties can exist independently of perceivers, see Chapter 10.) In general, the truths about mathematical objects exist whether we know those truths or not. Plato thinks the same is true for moral and aesthetic facts. Philosophical Query Reflect on the following objection to the preceding paragraphs: "The glass bead example is only playing with semantics. When we talk about two physical objects being 'identical', we don't mean literally identical—we mean so similar that human beings are unable to distinguish one object from the other. Obviously we can distinguish different things from each other when they're right next to each other. But if we find no differences when we analyze them one at a time, we are justified in saying that they are identical, 'indistinguishable'! Identical means indistinguishable to human beings; that is, so closely resembling each other that we cannot tell them apart." How might Plato answer this objection?

One problem common to any hierarchical enlightenment philosophy involves the gap between what the wise master knows and the pupil's initial ignorance. Different levels of experience can create communication and comprehension gaps. We see a similar kind of difficulty in interactions between adults and young children. Most of us—at least as we mature—have no difficulty with the concept of degrees of awareness and knowledge between adults and children. We even accept the fact that there are levels of knowledge and experience dividing adults with some form of mental impairment or limit and those of average or better mental capacities. The parable [of the Cave] is unforgettable. It is a miracle of philosophical invention, providing an approach to thoughts that do not lend themselves to direct statement. — Karl Jaspers But what about differences between average and so-called wise or enlightened people? Do such differences really exist? If they do, are they indicators of different levels of what Plato refers to as "intelligence" or "wisdom," or are they just unprovable claims made by people who think they know more than the rest of us? What reasons do we have for believing Plato's claims about levels of being and the Good? Why should we discount the views and experiences of the vast majority of people and listen to the claims of one supposedly wiser person? Plato responded to this important challenge by telling a story with a lesson—an allegory—in Book VII of the Republic. This allegory is offered not as a conclusive proof but as a suggestive possibility. It is the summation of the exposition of Plato's theory of Forms that includes the Divided Line and the Simile of the Sun. The Divided Line expresses Plato's hierarchical view of reality and wisdom. The Simile of the Sun characterizes the act of apprehending highest truth in the form of the Good. In the Allegory of the Cave, Plato compares the level of becoming to living in a cave and describes the ordeal necessary for the soul's ascent from shadowy illusion to enlightenment—from mere opinion to informed opinion to rationally based knowledge to wisdom. The allegory also alludes to the obligation of the enlightened wise person (say, Socrates) to return to the world of becoming in order to help others discern the Forms. The levels of awareness identified in the Allegory of the Cave correspond to the segments of the Divided Line referred to in Figure 5.1: Those chained to the wall of shadows are imprisoned in the shadowy world of imagination and illusion (D); those loose within the cave occupy the "common sense" world of perception and informed opinion (C); those struggling through the passageway to the surface are acquiring knowledge through reason (B); the rich surface world of warmth and sunlight is the highest level of reality directly grasped by pure intelligence (A).

Plato presents the allegory as part of Socrates' continuing conversation with Glaucon: Let me show a picture of whether our nature is enlightened or unenlightened. Imagine human beings living in an underground den or cave, with an opening that faces the light and reaches well into the cave. Here they have been from childhood, with their legs and necks chained so that they cannot move, and can only see in front of them, being prevented by the chains from turning their heads. Above and behind them a fire is blazing at a distance, and between the fire and the prisoners there is a raised way with a low wall built along it, like the screen marionette players hide behind in a puppet show. The Allegory of the Cave illustrates Plato's vision of the ascent of the mind from illusion (Level D) to opinion (Level C) to reasoned knowledge (Level B) to enlightenment (LevelA). These levels of awareness correspond to the segments of the Divided Line illustrated in Figure 5.1. I see. Imagine also men passing along the wall carrying all sorts of vessels, and statues and figures of men and of animals made of wood and stone and various materials, which stick up over the wall. Some of these men are talking, others are silent. You have shown me a strange image and strange prisoners. They are like ourselves, I replied. They see only their own shadows, or the shadows of one another, which the fire throws on the opposite wall of the cave, do they not? True, he said; how could they see anything but the shadows if they were never allowed to move their heads? ... And if they were able to converse with one another, would they not assume that they were describing what was actually before them? Very true. And if the cave had an echo which came from the opposite wall, would they not be convinced that when one of the passers-by spoke the voice which they heard came from its shadow on that wall? No question, he replied. To them, I said, the truth would be literally nothing but the shadows of images of animals and men and other things. That is certain. And now look again, and see what will naturally follow if the prisoners are released and cured of their illusions. At first, when one of them is liberated and compelled suddenly to stand up and turn his neck round and walk and look towards the light, he will suffer sharp pains. The glare will confuse him, and he will be unable to see the realities of what in his former state he had seen only shadows of. If someone says to him that what he saw before as reality was merely an illusion, and that he now, in his discomfort, has clearer vision because his eye is turned toward more real existence, what will he reply? Further imagine that his instructor points to objects as they pass and demands that he name them—will he not be perplexed? Will he not remain convinced that the shadows which he saw in the cave are more real than the objects now shown to him? Far more real. And if he ... were reluctantly dragged out of his cave and up a steep and rugged ascent, and held fast until he is in the sunlight, wouldn't he be pained and irritated? When he looked toward the light his eyes would be dazzled, and at first he would not be able to see anything at all of the things he is now told are real. ... He would need to grow accustomed to the sight of the upper world. At first he would see shadows best, next the reflections of men and other objects in the water, and then the objects themselves. Then he would gaze upon the light of the moon and the stars and the spangled heaven. And for a time would he not see the sky and the stars at night better than the sun itself or the sunlight of day? Certainly. Finally, he would be able to see the sun, and not mere reflections of it in the water, but the sun in its own proper place, and he would contemplate it as it is. Certainly. Would he not then conclude that it is the sun that creates the season and the years, and is the guardian of everything in the visible world, and is, in some way, the cause of all the things he and his fellow prisoners used to behold? Clearly, he said, he would first see the sun and then he would reason abouthim. Philosophical Query The Allegory of the Cave has intrigued students of Plato since it first appeared. Do you think it fairly expresses the way we experience knowledge? For instance, in childhood, everything is black and white, but with experience, we discover rich nuances and hues, as it were. What level are you on? Society in general? The world? Explain. Do you believe in levels of reality? In enlightenment? Why or why not?

Summary of Main Points

Plato was a member of the Athenian aristocracy and Socrates' most famous and important pupil. Socrates' trial and death convinced Plato that Athenian democracy was irrational mob rule. He founded his famous Academy to educate wise rulers. In Plato's metaphysics, the highest level of reality consists of timeless "essences" called ideas or Forms. Plato divided reality into three levels. The highest level of reality is eternal and changeless being. The other two levels together make up becoming, the level of change. Knowledge is always of essence. Disagreement is only possible on the lower level of becoming. According to Plato, knowledge is unchanging. The Sophists could not discover truth because they were only concerned with the world of ever-changing perceptions and customs. Truth and knowledge are found at the level of being. Plato's theory of Forms was part of his refutation of sophistry. Plato used the concept of a Divided Line to illustrate the relationship of knowledge to opinion, reality to appearance, and the worlds of being and becoming. The Divided Line consists of two basic sections, each unevenly divided into two segments: (1) pure intelligence or understanding, (2) reasoning, (3) informed belief or ordinary opinions, and (4) illusion and imagination, dominated by secondhand opinions and uncritical impressions. Plato compared the "absolute Form of the Good" to the sun; the Good makes the existence of everything else possible. The Good cannot be observed with the five senses and can be known only by pure thought or intelligence. It is the source of both the value and the existence of all other Forms. In the Allegory of the Cave, Plato characterized three levels of awareness by referring to three distinct levels of reality: two levels of becoming and one qualitatively unique and ultimate level of being. The lowest level is inhabited by people with little or no imagination. The informed level involves a wider range of basic understanding. On the highest level, the soul has no need for perception or interpretation. In the Republic, Plato argued that there is a reciprocal relationship between the individual and the kind of society in which he or she lives. The ideal state meets three basic categories of needs: (1) nourishing needs; (2) protection needs; (3) ordering needs. These needs are best met by members of three corresponding classes of people: (1) workers; (2) warriors; (3) guardians or philosopher-kings. The Republic contrasts two views of morality. The instrumental theory of morality asserts that right and wrong must be determined by the consequences our acts produce, and the functionalist theory of morality holds that right and wrong can only be understood in terms of the way they affect our overall functioning as human beings. According to Plato, the just state functions fully; the unjust state is dysfunctional. Only when all classes of people are virtuous according to their natures is the state whole, healthy, balanced, and just. The good life consists of each individual functioning well according to his or her own nature, in a state that is ordered and wisely ruled. According to Plato, the human soul resembles the state in that it too is divided into three parts: reason, spirit, and appetite. A just (healthy, good, or virtuous) soul is one in which all parts function harmoniously. The just society is one ruled by guardians in such a way that each class functions at its best. Plato identified four cardinal (essential, basic) virtues. The virtue of temperance is important for the worker classes but necessary for all classes of people. Courage is the essential virtue of the warrior class; in the individual, courage is a quality of will that provides a person with stamina and energy. Wisdom is the virtue associated with the guardians and the rational part of the soul. Justice, the result of the other three cardinal virtues, is excellence of function for the whole. Plato rejected democracy as unjust because rule by the majority usurps the rightful role of the guardian class. The result is an excess of liberty and rule by impulse, appetite, and emotion in which all classes suffer. Democracy violates the principle of functional order and rule by reason. According to Plato, the excessive liberty found in democracies contains the seeds of tyranny, a type of government in which all power rests in a single individual, the tyrant, the most imbalanced type of personality.

Plato (c. 427-348 b.c.e.) is actually the nickname of Aristocles, the son of one of the oldest and most elite Athenian families. Through his mother's family he was related to a celebrated lawgiver named Solon. Plato's father's family traced its lineage to the ancient kings of Athens and even further back to Poseidon, the god of the sea. His given name, Aristocles, meant "best, most renowned." He is said to have done well at practically everything as a young man: music, logic, debate, math, poetry. He was attractive and made his mark as a wrestler. In the military, he distinguished himself in three battles and even won a prize for bravery. The Greek root of Plato is Platon, which means "broad" or "wide"; one story is that he had wide shoulders, another that he had a wide forehead. "Perictione: Plato's Philosopher-Mother" In On the Harmony of Women, Perictione (c. 450-350 B.C.E.) calls women to philosophy in terms reminiscent of Socrates (Chapter 4), Epicurus, and Epictetus (Chapter 7). Perictione is believed to have been Plato's mother, and we hear in her work echoes of Socrates' disdain for vanity, his ideal of self-control, and his affirmation of the superiority of inner or essential beauty over mere physical attractiveness. We must wonder about the influence Perictione had on her son, as well as about the influence other forgotten and overlooked women philosophers may have had on their more famous peers. In the passage quoted here, Perictione argues that wisdom and self-control in an individual woman generate other virtues, which in turn lead to harmony and happiness for the entire community: One must deem the harmonious woman to be full of wisdom and self-control; a soul must be exceedingly conscious of goodness to be just and courageous and wise, embellished with self-sufficiency and hating empty opinion. Worthwhile things come to a woman from these—for herself, her husband, her children, her household, perhaps even for a city. ... But one must also train the body to natural measures concerning nourishment and clothing, baths and anointings, the arrangement of the hair, and ornaments of gold and precious stone. Women who eat and drink every costly thing, who dress extravagantly and wear the things that women wear, are ready for the sin of every vice both with respect to the marriage bed and the rest of wrongdoing. It is necessary merely to appease hunger and thirst, even if this be done by frugal means; in the case of cold, even a goat-skin or rough garment would suffice. ... So the harmonious woman will not wrap herself in gold or precious stone from India or anywhere else, nor will she braid her hair with artful skills or anoint herself with infusions of Arabian scent, nor will she paint her face, whitening or rouging it, darkening her eye-brows and lashes and treating her gray hair with dye; nor will she be forever bathing. The woman who seeks these things seeks an admirer for feminine weakness. It is the beauty that comes from wisdom, not from these, that gratifies women who are well-born. ... But I think a woman is harmonious in the following way: if she becomes full of wisdom and self-control. For this benefits not only her husband, but also the children, relatives, slaves; the whole house, including possessions and friends, both fellow-citizens and foreign guest friends. Artlessly, she will keep their house, speaking and hearing fair things, and obeying her husband in the unanimity of their common life, attending upon the relatives and friends whom he extols, and thinking the same things sweet and bitter as he—lest she be out of tune in relation to the whole. Holger Thesleff, "Pythagorean Texts of the Hellenistic Period," Acta Academiae Aboensis, Humaniora , trans. Vicki Lynn Harper, in A History of Women Philosophers , vol. 1, 600 b.c.-500 a.d., ed. Mary Ellen Waithe (Dordrecht: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers, 1987), pp. 20-21.

Plato was born two years after the death of Pericles, the great architect of Athenian democracy. Athens was fighting Sparta in the Peloponnesian Wars, which lasted more than twenty years. During that time Athens was in a state of turmoil (not unlike America now and during the Vietnam War). Great energy and expense were drained off by the war itself, as well as by disagreements over whether Athens should continue to fight and, if so, how. As we learned in Chapter 4, Athens finally surrendered to Sparta in 404 b.c.e. The conquering Spartans supported a group of nobles, known as the Thirty, who overthrew the democracy and ruled Athens for a short time. Plato's family were members of this group. This is the same Thirty that Socrates resisted when he was ordered to condemn and execute Leon of Salamis in violation of the Athenian constitution. Members of the Thirty failed in their efforts to restore rule by an elite based on bloodlines rather than on character or wisdom. Their reign lasted only about eight months before democracy was restored. It was the restored democracy, however, that tried and condemned Socrates. The impact of these events never left Plato, who was in his early twenties at the time. Looking back on this time, Plato recalled: Of course I saw in a short time that [the Thirty] made the former government look in comparison like an age of gold. Among other things they sent an elderly man, Socrates, a friend of mine, who I should hardly be ashamed to say was the justest man of his time ... against one of the citizens.... Their purpose was to connect Socrates to their government whether he wished or not.... When I observed all this—and some other similar matters of importance—I withdrew in disgust from the abuses of those days. Plato's genius is exhibited in the fact that he succeeded in eliciting from his observations of the Athenian state reflections on society and government that are true everywhere. — Raphael Demos The nobles who formed the Thirty had no doubt been disturbed by changes in Athenian society brought about by the long war: the loss of elitist privileges that accompanied increased democracy, the breakdown of tradition, the Sophists' use of debaters' tricks to sway the mob. In a democracy, the cleverest, most persuasive, and most attractive speakers could control the state. Also, the emerging business class had created a power base dependent on money and aggressiveness rather than on tradition and social status.

Plato became increasingly discouraged by both the "mob" and the "elite." The mob, represented by the jury at Socrates' trial, was irrational and dangerous; it was swayed by sophistic appeals to emotion, not by reason. Rule by the elite, represented by the behavior of the Thirty, was cruel, self-centered, and greedy. When Plato saw that neither the aristocracy nor the common citizenry was capable of superior rule, his "disillusionment [was] fearful and wonderful to behold." Plato concluded that most people are unfit by training and ability to make the difficult and necessary decisions that would result in a just society. The "average person" lacks wisdom and self-restraint. As Plato saw things, most people make emotional responses based on desire and sentiment rather than on rational considerations stemming from an objective view of what is genuinely good for the individual and society. What, he wondered, could be clearer proof of the mob's deficiencies than its utter failure to recognize the truth of Socrates' message? The trial and death of Socrates showed Plato what happens when justice is detached from wisdom and self-restraint and reduced to a majority vote. Now as I considered these matters, as well as the sort of men who were active in politics, and the laws and the customs, the more I examined them and the more I advanced in years, the harder it appeared to me to administer the government correctly. ... The result was that I, who had at first been full of eagerness for a public career, as I gazed upon the whirlpool of public life and saw the incessant movement of shifting currents, at last felt dizzy, and ... finally saw clearly in regard to all states now existing that without exception their system of government is bad. [emphasis added]

Plato would see to it that Socrates would be avenged—but by philosophy rather than by political action. After the revolt of the Thirty and the execution of Socrates, Plato left Athens and wandered for nearly twelve years. He studied with Euclid (the great pioneer of geometry) and possibly with the hedonist Aristippus. He seems also to have gone to Egypt. During his travels he studied mathematics and mysticism, both of which influenced his later philosophy. He studied Pythagorean philosophy and was deeply influenced by its emphasis on mathematics as the basis of all things (see box "The Celestial Music of the Spheres," in Chapter 2).

Out of Plato come all things that are still written and debated among men of thought. Great havoc makes he among our originalities. We have reached the mountain from which all these drift boulders were detached. — Ralph Waldo Emerson Plato's fundamental vision is deliberately hierarchical and aristocratic rather than egalitarian and democratic. His epistemology and metaphysics reflect and encourage this kind of highly discriminating orientation. Today, any nondemocratic philosophy is likely to be called elitist. If you believe in the fundamental equality of all people, you may be suspicious of Plato's belief in the superiority of those who have supposedly escaped the Cave and seen the Good. If you are skeptical about the possibility of any human being discovering "the truth," you may have difficulty with the idea that only exceptional, enlightened individuals are fit to govern the rest of us. But, then, aren't you dangerously close to believing that you have discovered that no one—including you—can discover the truth? Now what? This nagging suspicion will haunt philosophy for centuries, returning with a vengeance in the twentieth century. See Chapter 17. Nonetheless, such concerns are well-founded. We are all aware of the abuses committed by Nazis, racist supremacists, and all sorts of true believers who are convinced that they alone know the truth and are thus superior to the rest of us. Plato's aristocracy of wisdom, however, is not based on gender, national origin, and the like—at least in theory. It is built on Plato's conviction that enlightenment is real and that it is more than mere intellectual ability. Platonic enlightenment is the product of careful training, directed desire, hard work, and the good luck to live in an environment that does not prevent us from escaping the Cave. And when he who escaped the cave remembered his old habitation, and the so-called wisdom of his fellow-prisoners, do you not suppose that he would feel happiness for himself because of his good luck and pity for them?... Yes, he said, I think that he would rather suffer anything than entertain his previous false notions and live in such a miserable manner. And if there were a contest in measuring the shadows and he had to compete with prisoners who had never left the cave, while his sight was still weak and before his eyes had adjusted to the dim light—and this might take a long time—would he not seem ridiculous? Men would say of him that his trip to the upper world ruined his eyes. They would say that it were better not even to think of ascending. And if any one tried to free them and lead him into the light, they would put him to death if they could catch him. No question, he said. Now this entire allegory, my dear Glaucon, must be added to our previous discussion [of the Divided Line and the Simile of the Sun]. The prison is our world of sight and the light of the fire corresponds to the sun. And you will not misapprehend me if you interpret the journey out of the cave as comparable to the ascent of the soul into the world of understanding, at least according to my poor belief, which, at your request, I have expressed—whether rightly or wrongly only God knows. But, true or false, my opinion is that in the world of knowledge, the form of the Good appears last of all, and is seen only with an effort. And, when seen, it is also inferred to be the universal author of all things good and beautiful and right.... And it is the power upon which he who would act rationally, either in public or in private, must have his eye fixed.

Plato wrote the Republic to show that the levels of reality correspond to three types of people. The Republic is Plato's answer to what kind of person is qualified to rule the state, based on his theory of reality. At the beginning of the Republic, Socrates and his friend Glaucon have spent the day at a festival and are on their way home when another friend, Polemarchus, stops them. The dialogue begins with good-natured banter among friends: "Socrates," said Polemarchus, "I believe you are starting off on your way back to town." "You are right," I [Socrates] replied. "Do you see how many of us there are?" he asked. "I do." "Well, you will either have to get the better of us or stay here." "Oh, but there's another alternative," said I. "We might persuade you that you ought to let us go." "You can't persuade people who won't listen," he replied. You can't persuade people who won't listen. Plato is no doubt referring in part to the people who executed Socrates. But he may also be giving us a key to the rest of the Republic. Socrates believed in the pursuit of wisdom through the dialectical method of question-and-answer. This required participants willing to listen actively and to respond intelligently. But what about people who cannot or will not listen? What about people who are satisfied with life in the Cave? What good is being reasonable in the face of ignorance? Will a mob listen to reason? Will the lazy? Plato thought not. He came to believe that there were different types of human beings, with different strengths and weaknesses corresponding to each type. Not everyone is capable of participating in rational discourse. Some people lack the intellect. Some lack the will. Some even lack both. Thus it is that a wise and wonderful individual who has escaped from the Cave, like Socrates, can be brought down by his moral and intellectual inferiors who are still in it. In Plato's view, Socrates made a mistake in going to the Athenian people at all. Socrates himself had even said that in matters of virtue and wisdom, the majority is usually wrong, while only a few are wise.

For Plato, the chief distinction between knowledge and opinion is that knowledge is fixed, absolutely and eternally true (correct), whereas opinions are changeable and "unanchored." According to Plato, scientific knowledge of particulars is impossible. That is, fundamental knowledge of reality must always be knowledge of forms. Thus, a "science" consists of necessary and universal truths about the objects (forms) that the science studies. In all scientific subject areas, the physical objects, structural relationships, particular individuals, societies, or governments studied represent Forms. The particular things themselves are never "as real" as the Forms they participate in or resemble. Remember, too, that for Plato, that which changes is less real than that which does not. That which changes is "lower" than that which does not. And since all particular things change, when Protagoras said that the individual is "the measure," he was, from Plato's view, talking about the level of becoming, about the lower level of perceptions of particular things, about the personal and individual rather than the public and universal. In Plato's metaphysics, the level of change is the level of growth and decay, life and death—becoming. Only in the realm of becoming can opinions change from true to false. In the Timaeus Plato says:

That which is apprehended by intelligence and reason is always in the same state, but that which is conceived by opinion with the help of sensation and without reason is always in a process of becoming and perishing and never really is.

The Republic contrasts two views of morality. One asserts that right and wrong must be determined by the consequences our acts produce, and the other holds that they can be understood only in terms of their effect on our overall functioning as human beings. The first view is sometimes called an instrumental theory of morality. Right and wrong are treated as means to, or instruments for, getting something else. Be good, get X. Be bad, get Y. Plato characterizes the instrumental view: For fathers tell their sons, and pastors and masters of all kinds urge their charges to be just not because they value justice for itself, but for the social prestige it brings; they want them to secure by a show of justice the power and family connexions and other things which [were] enumerated, all of which are procured by the just man of good reputation. Plato, by contrast, argues for a functionalist theory of morality in which each kind of thing (including human beings) has a "natural purpose or function." Renowned Plato scholar A. E. Taylor says that in the Republic, "Happiness depends on conformity to our nature [function] as active beings." In other words, only virtuous people can be happy.

The Greeks viewed happiness as being more than a matter of personal satisfaction. Happiness was the result of living a fully functioning life. It involved balance and wholeness. It required being pleased by what is good and being displeased by what is bad. For instance, under such a view, no cigarette smoker can be "happy", regardless of the pleasure derived from smoking. The reason is that no fully functioning, maximally healthy human being will enjoy polluting his or her body. (For a fuller treatment of this view of happiness, see Chapter 6.)

Socrates' death, the revolt of the Thirty, sophistic abuses, and other factors convinced Plato that a corrupt state produces corrupt citizens. He thus attempted to develop a theory of knowledge that could refute sophistic skepticism and moral relativism. Plato believed that if he could identify and articulate the difference between mere opinion and genuine knowledge, it would then be possible to identify the structure of an ideal state based on knowledge and truth—rather than the mere appearance of truth and personal whim. Plato correctly understood that before he could provide satisfactory answers to ethical, social, political, and other philosophical questions, he must first tackle the problem of knowledge. We have seen how the conflicting opinions of the Presocratics first led to philosophical confusion and then to ethical and political abuses in the hands of the most extreme of the Sophists. Socrates' heroic effort to refute ignorance and relativism was most successful in its exposure of error and inconsistency. It was less successful in establishing any positive knowledge.

The feeling of wonder is the touchstone of the philosopher, and all philosophy has its origins in wonder. — Plato Consequently, Plato could not avoid the challenge of sophistic skepticism or ignore philosophy's reputation for generating ludicrous doctrines that contradicted each other—and themselves. Though the Presocratics, the Sophists, and Socrates had all made use of the distinction between appearance and reality, the exact nature of reality and clear rational criteria for distinguishing reality from appearance had eluded them.

The lowest level of awareness, D in Figure 5.1, is the level of illusion. Virtually no one inhabits this level all the time, but we can occasionally slip into states of illusion. We slip into Level D on purpose and for fun when we go to magic shows or watch movies (which are really just light, shadows, and sound creating the illusion of depth and action). This is known as the "willing suspension of disbelief." But we can also slip into illusion without being aware of it when we hold opinions based solely on appearances, unanalyzed impressions, uncritically inherited beliefs, and unevaluated emotions. The image—opinion—I have of Nelson Mandela is an example of Level D awareness. It is based on photographs I have seen, news clips on television, and books about apartheid that I've read. When it is a question of thinking in earnest, ... there is something in man that rebels against the rigors of responsible self-clarification. He does not want to wake up but go on sleeping. — Karl Jaspers Level C in Figure 5.1 represents the second or informed level of awareness. It involves a wider range of opinions about what most of us probably think of as reality. At this level of informed awareness, we attempt to distinguish appearance from reality, but in a kind of everyday way. For example, I believe that my desk looks solid, but it is actually made up of countless molecules and atoms in motion. I believe that the sun looks small because of its distance from earth, but in fact, it is much larger. Strictly speaking, I do not know these things. I have had some science classes, and looked through microscopes and telescopes, but I do not have a scientist's sophisticated knowledge built upon rigorous deductive reasoning. At the same time, my Level C opinions are based on observations and perceptions of physical objects, not just on photos or representations of them. On this informed level, we realize that the way things appear may not be the way they are. Most of us spend much of our lives dealing with more or less informed opinions about most things. If I had known Nelson Mandela, my Level D image of him would have been a Level C informed opinion.

The next level of awareness (B) takes us out of the realms of becoming and opinion (D/C) and into the world of being and the first stage of knowledge acquired through deductive reasoning. As we've learned, Plato believed truth is changeless, eternal, and absolute and that knowledge doesn't grow or decay but just is. Nelson Mandela the individual did grow and change, however, so Level B knowledge must be of a form, say the Form Human. The Form Human does not change—grow or decay—according to Plato. At the highest level of reality (A), the soul has no need for perception or interpretation. Plato says that it "directly apprehends" the "absolute Form of the Good." At the highest level, reason does not—indeed it cannot—deduce the Forms. The higher Forms are directly understood, apprehended—"glimpsed"—without any mediating process or principles.

Plato compared the "absolute Form of the Good" to the sun: Just as the sun (light) is necessary for vision and life, so, too, the Good makes Reality, Truth, and the existence of everything else possible. The Good exists beyond becoming at the highest reaches of being. The Good cannot be observed with the five senses and can be known only by pure thought or intelligence. The Good is the source of both the value and the existence of all other Forms. The Good is the Form of the Forms. Comprehension of the Good is unlike other forms of knowing. It is holistic, not partial. The soul must deliberately work its way up from the lowest level of becoming to enlightenment. Experience of the Good so far transcends all other experiences that it cannot be clearly described, so Plato uses a comparison or simile to allude to the Good. We can represent Plato's comparison of the Good to the sun as shown in Figure 5.2. With [the Good], it is not the same as with other things we learn: it cannot be framed in words, but from protracted concentration devoted to [it] and from spending one's life with it, a light suddenly bursts forth in the soul as though kindled by a flying spark, and then it feeds on itself. — Plato Figure 5.2 Plato's Hierarchy of Being and Knowledge The hierarchy of being and knowledge is reflected in Plato's Simile of the Sun. A 5 pure understanding B 5 deductive thinking C 5 common opinion D 5 uncritical impressions In the following passage from the Republic, Plato (in the character of Socrates) compares the Good to the sun and apprehension of the Good to seeing. Note how strongly he expresses his ultimate regard for the Good: "Well, [the sun] is the child of the Good. ... The Good has begotten its own likeness, and it bears the same relation to sight and visibility in the visible world that the Good bears to intelligence in the intelligible world." "Will you explain that a bit further?" "You know that when we turn our eyes to objects whose colours are no longer illuminated by daylight, but only by moonlight or starlight, they see dimly and appear to be almost blind, as if they had no clear vision." "Yes." "But when we turn them on things on which the sun is shining, then they see clearly and their power of vision is restored." "Certainly." "Apply the analogy to the mind. When the mind's eye rests on objects illuminated by truth and reality, it understands and comprehends them, and functions intelligently; but when it turns to the twilight world of change and decay, it can only form opinions, its vision is confused and its beliefs shifting, and it seems to lack intelligence." "That is true." "Then what gives the objects of knowledge their truth and the mind the power of knowing is the Form of the Good. It is the cause of knowledge and truth, and you will be right to think of it as being itself known, and yet as being something other than, and even higher than, knowledge and truth. And just as it was right to think of light and sight as being like the sun, but wrong to think of them as being the sun itself, so here again it is right to think of knowledge and truth as being like the Good, but wrong to think of either of them as being the Good, which must be given still a higher place of honor." "You are making it something remarkably exalted, if it is the source of knowledge and truth, and yet itself higher than they are. For I suppose you can't mean it to be pleasure?" "A monstrous suggestion," I replied. "Let us pursue our analogy further.... The sun, I think you will agree, not only makes the things we see visible, but causes the process of generation, growth and nourishment, without itself being such a process. ... The Good therefore may be said to be the source not only of the intelligibility of the objects of knowledge, but also of their existence and reality; yet it is not itself identical with reality, but is beyond reality, and is superior to it in dignity and power."

There seems to be nothing in the study of chemistry that makes you feel like a superior order of being but you study Plato and you begin to believe you're a philosopher. — S. I. Hayakawa Toward the end of the discussion of the Good, Glaucon remarks that the process of escaping from shadows to enlightenment "sounds like a long job." Plato-Socrates agrees, adding: And you may assume that there are, corresponding to the four sections of the line, four states of mind: to the top section [A] Intelligence, to the second [B] Reason, to the third [C] Opinion, and to the fourth [D] Illusion. And you may arrange them in a scale, and assume that they have degrees of clarity corresponding to the degree of truth and reality possessed by their subject-matter. Just as people born blind have different meanings for color words than those who have seen colors, those on one level of reality cannot recognize what is being said by those on a higher level. They have no comparable experience. Those who reach the level of comprehending the Good are forever transformed; they are enlightened—they are wise. And the relationship between the enlightened and the unenlightened is at the heart of Plato's philosophy. Philosophical Query Compare Plato's use of similes to show that there are levels of knowledge with John Stuart Mill's more "ordinary" argument regarding levels of knowledge in judgments of quality (Chapter 12). Which approach seems most compelling, if either does? Assess.

Plato argued that a reciprocal relationship exists between the individual and the kind of society he or she lives in. That means a certain kind of society produces a certain kind of individual, and certain kinds of individuals produce certain kinds of societies. In fact, Plato thought the relationship between the two was so close that a clear understanding of the just (ideal) society would yield a clear understanding of the just (healthy) individual. In the Republic, he refers to society as "the individual writ large." The Republic is, consequently, a study of Plato's ideal society and, by extension, a study of types of individuals. The first book of the Republic begins with a discussion of justice. But justice in this context does not mean quite what it does today. Philosophical translator H.D. P. Lee says that the Greek roots of what is usually translated as justice cover a cluster of meanings that no single English word does. According to Lee, justice in the Republic is a broad term covering right conduct or morality in general; the verb from the same root can mean to act "rightly" or "justly." For Plato, justice involved much more than fairness under the law; it went beyond a legalistic limit. Historian of ancient Greece B. A. G. Fuller says that what Plato is interested in is nothing less than "the whole sphere of moral action, both external and internal."

Various limited and specific definitions of justice are offered during the course of the Republic. The first one is that justice is paying our debts and telling the truth. During the course of the dialogue, a variety of modifications and alternatives are discussed and rejected.

Granted that people and conditions change, and granted that we disagree among ourselves over what is true and what is real, what happens when we disagree about knowledge? To what purpose is it for philosophy to decide against common sense in this or any other matter? The material world is older, and of more authority, than any principles of philosophy. It declines the tribunal of reason, and laughs at the artillery of the logician. — Thomas Reid Suppose, for example, that Michael simply cannot see or understand that 2 × 3 does not equal 4. In other words, for Michael, . We can say, then, that Michael has a false belief or opinion; we can also say, however, that the product of 2 × 3 is not a matter of opinion (Michael's or anyone's) but of fixed mathematical properties and relationships. We know this because in order to understand concepts such as number, three, two, product, equivalence, and such, we have to "glimpse" their Forms. This glimpse of recognition is what understanding the concept is. Next, consider the case of Michael's aunt, Patricia. Asked the product of 2 × 3, Patricia proudly says, "I know the answer. It's six!" Asked how she knows, Patricia explains, "Because mother told me so. And because my mother's mother told her." Michael's friend, Emma, also confidently agrees that . When we ask her to explain why, Emma says, "Teacher told me so." Emma does not know that any more than Michael "knows" that or Patricia "knows" that . Unlike Michael's belief, Patricia's and Emma's beliefs are true. But they are still just beliefs (opinions). Patricia and Emma are lucky this time—their beliefs are "unanchored," however. Lacking knowledge, Michael, Patricia, and Emma have no way to determine who is right. If they vote, they might end up with the correct answer—but only by chance. What they cannot do is willingly choose the correct answer, because they lack sufficient understanding to make an informed determination: They don't know what it is.

Without knowledge, we are like Michael, Patricia, and Emma: We, too, are at the mercy of luck and uninformed preference. We are "unanchored" and so can only act based on habit, tradition, personal preference, and impulse. Throughout the Republic, Plato repeatedly distinguishes between knowledge and opinion, warning against even true opinions that lack grounding in knowledge. Here's a typical passage: "But I don't think it's right, Socrates ... for you to be able to tell us other people's opinions but not your own, when you've given so much time to the subject." "Yes, but do you think it's right for a man to talk as if he knows what he does not?" "He has no right to talk as if he knew; but he should be prepared to say what his opinion is, so far as it goes." "Well," I [Socrates] said, "haven't you noticed that opinion without knowledge is blind—isn't anyone with a true but unthinking opinion like a blind man on the right road?" "Yes." As Socrates' encounters with the Sophists showed, distinguishing between knowledge and opinion can sting when cherished beliefs come under scrutiny. Deeply committed partisans sometimes dismiss opposing views as uninformed opinions rooted in the self-interest and willful blindness of those who disagree with them—while thinking of themselves as well-informed and well-intentioned individuals whose beliefs are based on solid, objective knowledge of all relevant facts. This sort of partiality is easy to recognize when it involves other people heavily invested in intense disagreements we care little about. It is much harder to acknowledge, much less resist, when we are convinced that we are on the side of truth in the controversies of our day—such as the scope of and solutions to climate change or whether measles vaccines cause autism or violent videogames cause violent behavior. On what grounds are those of us untrained and inexperienced in the precise areas of expertise at issue justified in dismissing those who disagree with us as clearly wrong? If we refer to experts, how do we choose among all those claiming expertise? Looking more closely won't help if we are unsure of our own judgment. And the popularity of a claim won't help either because merely counting always risks multiplying tainted, partial, or irrelevant evidence. We need a qualitatively different approach if we are serious about distinguishing between knowledge and opinion. According to Plato, the Sophists failed to understand this, confusing opinion with knowledge, perception with understanding, and the realm of becoming with the realm of being. Plato's task, then, is analogous to "proving" the existence of colors to persons born blind. When an appeal to direct experience or common understanding is not possible, an indirect approach may prove effective. If we have yet to grasp the Forms, perhaps we can get some indirect idea of them. In the Republic, Plato uses three different comparisons to help express various aspects of the theory of Forms: the Divided Line, the Simile of the Sun, and the Allegory of the Cave. We will study each of them. Each comparison clarifies different but interconnected aspects of the theory of Forms. Do not worry if you need to take extra time with this material. Allow each of Plato's similes to help you better grasp the whole.