'Let us fare well' | Plato's Republic, Book X
The Myth of Er, the immortal soul, the completion of the proof, the banishment of poets
Today, we complete our read-along of Plato’s Republic, the latest installment in our philosophical read-alongs.
There will be a final Plato-themed Zoom call on Sunday evening: June 22, 8 PM Eastern. If you’d like to join that call or read everything that I write, please consider supporting my work.
Later this week, I’ll be sending out an updated schedule for the rest of our 2024 read-alongs. We’re moving on to a novel next: Remains of the Day. Then we’re on to Chuang Tzu and Aristotle’s politics. (Though all the timelines are a bit messy now, as I originally thought we’d be done with Plato in May.)
But that will come later. Let’s discuss Book X of Plato’s Republic.
Having founded the perfect city, articulated the conditions under which it would thrive, and established the analogy between the city and the soul (thus completing the argument with Thrasymachus, Glaucon, and Adeimantus on the desirability of justice), Socrates decides that he must now turn to discussing poetry. A sign that they have founded the city in the right way, he says, is that they have banned the imitative portion of poetry — which would, unfortunately, include the works of Homer.
Don’t overlook how strange this is. Socrates expresses his admiration of Homer in Book X. Early in the Republic, he cites Homer approvingly. Somehow, Homer was able to express truths that Socrates and his interlocutors take as authoritative. Yet, Homer must be banned with the rest of the imitative poets.
At his core, his worry is not about poetry per se, but of imitative art. This is art that allows one to create things, yet this art fails to capture things as they are. This point is illustrated with an analogy. What is the easiest way to make anything – a couch, grass, the sun and heavenly bodies – and ensure that you can, in fact, make everything found in the world? You would carry a mirror. Through the careful placement of your mirror, you would create another couch, another sun, another person. Yet, this would not be the couch (to use one example) but the couch merely as it appears to be. ‘Something like the real thing, but not itself the real thing’ (597a). You will always be making an imitation that lacks something. You will always be at least one step removed from truth.
The poets are in fact two steps removed from truth (599a).
I don’t think it is unfair to say that this is a tactical critique. Plato, through Socrates, has designed a city where only a philosopher – someone who has knowledge of the good – can rule. This philosopher must reenter the life of the world in order to guide the city as a philosopher-king. As he wrote in Book V, the citiy will thrive only if:
Either philosophers become kings in our cities, or the people who are now called kings and rulers become real, true philosophers—unless there is this amalgamation of political power and philosophy.
Yet, when people look for a voice of moral authority, do they necessarily turn to philosophers? No. They often turn to poets and tragedians who teach them something of the human condition. They turn to Homer. The poets are a competiting source of authority, and since they primarily operate in an emotional (and so not strictly rational) mode, they may lead others astray.
This is silly, Socrates thinks. Homer has never founded a city; he is not a Solon-like figure for any city, either. He has never won a battle or a war. He made no contributions to the arts (poetry does not count, it seems!). No one describes their way of life as ‘Homeric’ as they do the Pythagoreans. He leaves no personal legacy. His disciple Creophylus did not seem to care for the person much.
In other words, Homer has none of the characteristics of a wise man. He trafficks in imitations, and he does not (seemingly) leave a legacy of lasting greatness. And if this is true of Homer, then it is almost certainly true of any poet.
If he really knew about the things he imitates, I imagine, he’d be much keener on action than on imitation of it. He’d try to leave many fine actions as memorials to himself, and be much more interested in having poetry written in honour of him than in writing poetry in honour of others. (599b)
The conclusion: ‘all artists, starting with Homer, are imitators of images of goodness,’ they create ‘without having any grasp of the truth.’ They are judged excellent based on the color, shape, or language, not the content of their art. ‘The creator of images, the imitator, has no knowledge of what is, but only of what appears to be.’ (601a-c)
Going even further, Socrates claims that poets and imitative artists stir up the irrational elements of the soul, which throws the person into discord, which prevents the soul from enjoying eternity. Virtue is rewarded in eternity, Socrates says, because the soul is immortal. We must cultivate the soul so that we may enjoy these eternal rewards. As Glaucon puts it, our time on Earth is a ‘mere nothing.’
Socrates reasons that the soul is immortal on the grounds that a defective soul cannot destroy itself, and if something cannot be destroyed by its own defects then it cannot be destroyed (609d). A body is destroyed by its own evils when it is harmed by the defects of food; the body is ultimately responsible for its own destruction through ill-functioning or disease. The soul cannot destroy itself. No matter unjust it becomes, it does not cease to be. So, the soul is immortal.
If this is the case, then the care of our souls is of the utmost importance. We must strive for virtue now, else we fail to enjoy the fruits of virtue in eternity.
See what we have done? We have shown why it is necessary to actually be good. We are answering Thrasymachus’ challenge. The just person is better off than the unjust person — in fact, she also has a better reputation among the gods, since the gods cannot be fooled (612e). All of the misfortunes she endures will turn out for the best, as she is the one the gods love.
Yet earthly rewards are nothing compared to what awaits you in eternity. ‘A mere nothing,’ again. Socrates illustrates this with the Myth of Er. After dying and then coming to life 12 days later, Er recounts what he saw. He sees something analogous to a folk conception of heaven and hell (though we should be careful to avoid reading backwards here). The dead encounter judges who sort them into two groups: the just and unjust. This dictated the journey the souls would take to reach their final state. For the unjust, Socrates says:
To give a full account, Glaucon, would take a very long time. But the main point, he said, was this. Whatever wrongs they had done anyone, and whatever people they had all wronged, for all these in turn they had to pay a penalty – ten times over for each offence.
Likewise, the just received rewards for their good deeds. But for one group, the tyrants, they never reach this festive camp. They are thrown into Tartarus.
Eventually, the souls embark on another journey. There they encounter the spindle of Necessity, upon which is a whorl. This whorl is hollowed out and contains seven further whorls. These whorls spin with the spindle, and upon each rim is a Siren singing a perfect musical note; together, they produce a harmony. Enthroned in a circle are the Fates, the daughters of Necessity singing of the past, present, and future. A prophet presents to them their choice: before being reborn, they must choose a guardian spirit for their next life. Various lives are shown to them, and they must choose.
A philosopher, Socrates says, will be in the best position to choose rightly. We see a number of others choose wrongly, and some of them despair.
The souls are then led to the river of Lost Cares where they drink of its waters and forget. Some drink too much, presumably forgetting more. Er, though, was not permitted to drink. He awakens on his funeral pyre and tells his tell. He is a messenger to mankind. We would do well to remember what he has to say, Socrates tells us.
‘And so, here and on the thousand-year journey we have described, let us fare well.’
Thank you, everyone, who has read this with me. What a book! I hope you have gotten something out of this.
As we read the Republic, I became frustrated. But these last two or three books have completely reoriented my view of it, and now I count this as a favorite. I look forward to discussing it with you on Sunday, should you choose to join the Zoom call.
In the discussion of poetry, I was hoping for a callback to Plato's Cave. It seemed a natural to add that the images cast on the walls are the works of poets, and philosophers who have experienced Good and Beauty would no longer want to read these works.
This book was a struggle for me, but I'm very glad to have read it. I hope to join the Zoom call on Sunday.
For those who plan on joining the Zhuangzi read-along later this year, the History of Philosophy in China podcast has wrapped up its segments on Confucianism and Mohism, and will begin its segment on Daoism with the June 28 episode. I presume that it will start with the Daodejing, and I'd guess that it will get around the Zhuangzi right around the time that we're reading it.