The political ideal of the Republic
‘Plato is not an idealist, and the organic theory of society, as well as political totalitarianism, are altogether foreign to his thought. The human community, as he conceives it, is neither a mere juxtaposition of atomic individuals nor a superorganism living its own life apart from the individual members. It is rather a group of individuals unified by a shared purpose capable of eliciting co-operative acts.’
‘I believe that Plato’s political programme, far from being morally superior to totalitarianism, is fundamentally identical with it.’
Is the Republic a political work? This is too complex a question for a quick answer, but, now that you have seen that the political interpretation has a very recent particular source, you may well want to ask yourself how (if you have read the book) you were encouraged to read it, and why. You may want to go back to the text and ask for yourself whether the way you were encouraged to read it was the best way.
One very obvious point about the Republic is that the description of the ideal state takes up only a small part of the work. It is far too brief and sketchy to be a ‘blueprint’ for political action, and it does not give the work its framework. The main argument of the book is posed at the beginning of the second book and answered at the end of the ninth, and it consists of Plato’s attempt to answer the question, ‘Why should I be moral?’ Morality, it seems, benefits others rather than myself; would it not be better for me to live a kind of life in which I pursue my own ends in a way which ignores or exploits others? Plato thinks that a life in which morality is supreme can be rationally defended as the best life for an individual, even in the worst possible circumstances of the actual world. To make out his case, he introduces the ideal state as a parallel for the structure of the moral person’s soul; as he says at the end of the argument, the ideal state shows us the abstract structure which the moral person takes as an ideal to internalize in his aspiration to live a good life. But the ideal state is not the idea which structures the Republic, and the questions Plato asks about the actual world cannot be answered by reference to an ideal state without breaking the back of the work’s argument.
This is obviously only the beginning of an account of the work’s overall plan. You may want to ask yourself just what work the ideal state does in illuminating the structure of the individual’s soul. How serious are the political ideas, by comparison with those in Plato’s political discussions in the dialogues Statesman and Laws? Most radically, you may want to ask whether introducing an ideal state into an argument about individual morality was one of Plato’s better ideas. It has certainly been one of his more suggestive ones.
Why has the Republic been seen so often since the mid-nineteenth century as primarily a work of political theory? It is obvious that to some extent the Victorians, and subsequent generations, have used the Republic to develop their own ideas, and have read into the work what was necessary to do this. Plato’s Guardians have been seen as meritocratic officials by Victorians worried about creating a more just society. They have been seen as fascist Big Brothers by twentieth century thinkers worried about totalitarian states. But if the Republic can be used to come to such opposed conclusions, can we find a single political philosophy in it at all?
This can be a depressing thought. It can encourage the reflection that there is no real basis for an objective interpretation and assessment of the book, that each generation, or perhaps each reader, invents their own Republic, or at least the political philosophy in it. Outside academic postmodern circles, this is seen as a pessimistic conclusion to draw. The book certainly seems to be saying something which different readers with diverse concerns can argue about. It presents itself as a work of philosophy, encouraging us to make use of rational arguments and discussion as a way of arriving at the truth.
We can see the wild divergence of interpretations of the Republic not as a reason for lapsing into relativism about interpreting it, but as a sign of the richness and depth of the work. Even if, from Jowett onwards, the political content of the work has been grossly inflated, the result has been a lively and creative engagement with the text, at the end of which we can look back and see how much or little there is to the development of various lines of thought in the text. We can admire the way that the Republic has entered into, and been used to further, many nineteenth- and twentieth-century political discussions. It is the best example of the way in which engaging with a work of ancient philosophy can be a two-way street; bringing it into a discussion can enrich that discussion, while also encouraging us to see the work in the light of that discussion.
It is easy to see the changing fortunes of the Republic as a cautionary tale: what happens when a work of ancient philosophy is used as something ‘good to think with’ in a way that cuts it from its moorings, namely Plato’s work as a whole, and the way it was received and studied until recently. But we can also more open-mindedly draw the lesson that we should be aware of at least three things when we study a work of ancient philosophy. One is our interest in seeing and engaging with the work in its own intellectual context. Secondly, our own assumptions as to what is philosophically salient and interesting, what we are likely to find intellectually rewarding. And thirdly, the potential of the work we study to engender creative philosophical thinking on our part. These factors may be of different strengths and come into play in different ways. One thing we can certainly learn from the history of reading the Republic is that lack of awareness of these factors can lead to fruitless wrangling over which of various mutually contradictory interpretations is the correct one.
If we think of the results of Chapter 1, we can see that sometimes an issue in ancient philosophy is part of an argument that we can immediately relate to. But we can now also see that there are potential dangers in this attitude. We should also be on the lookout for ways in which our own changing philosophical interests play a role in establishing what we find philosophically interesting in the ancient tradition. The Republic is the most extreme example of how a work can be moved from marginal to central, and from being an ethical work to being a political one, under the pressure of changed interests in the audience. The moral is not that we should think that our own interpretations of the Republic are nothing but reflections of our own prejudices. Rather, we should be aware of our own philosophical interests and the role they play, in order to lessen the extent to which they influence us unconsciously. While some parts of ancient philosophy seem extremely alien to our interests, others are too familiar. Sometimes we need to distance them from present concerns and ask about our traditions of interpreting them.