Category Archives: Platonism

Are Philosophers and Philosophy Useful to a City?

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Several hundred years before the birth of Socrates, Thales the philosopher was said to have fallen into a well while observing the heavens.  Thus the impractical and detached reputation of philosophers was born.  In Books 6 and 7 of the Republic the issue of the usefulness of either the philosopher or philosophy is brought up several times.  What is this uselessness, and how does the philosopher become useful?  In that earlier book Socrates admits that philosophy is indeed useless, but blames this “uselessness on those who don’t use [philosophers], not on decent men” (489b).  Later, in Book 7, we return to the usefulness of philosophy.  Socrates, although himself noting that the study of geometry has as its ‘“useful byproduct” war, chastises Glaucon for wishing to highlight the practical benefits of astronomy (527c-d).  Socrates insists that the real significance of these studies is the cultivation of the eye of the mind. 

What this points to is that if there is going to be a conversion from “uselessness to usefulness” by the study of philosophy, this change cannot come about by pandering to the currently perceived needs of the city.  Rather the city must come to see its need for something beyond the daily worries attendant on activities like farming and warfare.  And we must additionally keep in mind that Socrates is proposing a city that has the general welfare in mind, not the concerns of any individual or one group.  Yet it is precisely at this point that this concern for the welfare of the city makes it most shocking demand, according the allegory of the cave. 

In the cave, the cave-dweller, let us remember, was not liberated by his own devices, but Socrates tells us that he was released and “compelled to stand up,” “compelled to answer [what the shadows] are,” “compelled…to look at the light itself” (515c-e).  On the other hand, the philosopher, himself a liberated cave-dweller, must not live the care-free life of contemplation, he too has to return to the cave to liberate and educate the remaining captives (520b).  So for the betterment of the city, both the philosopher and “cave-dweller” must, in some sense, submit to a course of life other than what they would have normally chosen, had they not been looking to the betterment of the city.  What informs this decision and what is the guiding principle of their lives if it is not the oracle of mere personal preference? 

The answer, as it turns out, is a paradox.  Normally we expect that if we are to attend to the betterment of say, our garden, we put on our overalls in order to focus on the garden.  This is not so with the case of the polis.  In the case of the city we must fix our attention outside of the city, to things seen only by the inner eye, intellection.  Recall that in Book VI Socrates’ initial response to the charge of uselesness is to give us an image of men on a ship. He tells us that when the true pilot navigates, he looks to, “year, seasons, heaven, stars, winds, and everything that is proper to the art” (488d).  But he does not look at the ship. Nor does the philosopher in the cave look at the cave, but he attempts to focus the attention of the cave-dwellers to eventually look at the sun.  Thus it turns out that the philosopher and philosophy are extremely useful; without him and it, the entire city is unable to see or even to learn to see what they should really be fixing their gaze upon, the Form of the Good.           

Banishing “Laughter Loving” from the Republic

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Near the beginning of Book 3 of the Republic, Plato, through Socrates, tells us that the guardians, the soldier-police force of his ideal state, should not be lovers of laughter (φιλογέλως).  Why should this be?

First we must get a sense of what this term means, since some might mistakenly take laughter-loving to be, quite loosely, engaging in laughter at all.  But this is clearly an extreme construal of the term; rather, it is clarified by similar terms used in Book 6 where Socrates invokes “lover,” “wine-lover,” and “honor-lover” and others to hone in on what we mean by “love” in such words (474e-475b).  Socrates explains that the “love” in common between these uses of the term mean that,

whatever we say someone loves, it is necessary to say of him, if this is said correctly, that it is not the case he loves one part of it and does not love another part, but he loves all of it”  (Republic, 474c9-11) (1)

This is to say that the true lover of X does not love discriminately. As he later says of a lover of learning, he is not “annoyed at learning” (475b11). (2)  The lover of X is neither finicky nor does he refuse any appearance of X, but he cannot get enough of it, as we might say.  This lover of learning, the true philosopher, tastes of all learning and learns with delight (475c6-8). 

So we learn from this that a “lover” of X, pursues X to the extreme, has a mania for it, a certifiable obsession for finding and cherishing, say, wine, in all its forms.  This is one reason, then, why we do not want our military force of guardians to be lovers of laughter.  We do not want them to be pursuing laughter at the expense of the bodily and mental training necessary for a disciplined military.

But there is another reason to be wary of letting our soldiers indulge in loving laughter.  Mimesis is an overarching theme in Book 3 and it touches on laughter here as well.  At 395b-c Socrates says that we want our guardians to attend to one thing, the freedom of the city.  To this end they should be educated to imitate men who are, “courageous, moderate, pious, free and all such traits” (395c4-5). (3)  Not explicitly mentioned here, but obviously in mind, are the comedic plays of authors such as Aristophanes.  The characters in these plays are crude and buffoonish. As Aristotle characterizes comedy, these people are perceived to be beneath our station in life.  We have also been told that we need poets to compose characters who are worthy of emulation, unlike the sordid tales of adultery among the gods or unmoderated rage we find in Homer, for example.  Combining the above ideas, we do not want our guardians to have the disposition of laughter-loving, nor do we want to provide material which would encourage and develop the baser elements of character, which would distract guardians from their singular goal of ensuring the safety of the city.  We do not wish of our guardians buffoons, nor do we wish our city to be a haven of fools. 

REFERENCES:

(1)
ὃν ἂν φῶμεν φιλεῖν τι, δεῖ φανῆναι αὐτόν, ἐὰν ὀρθῶς
λέγηται, οὐ τὸ μὲν φιλοῦντα ἐκείνου, τὸ δὲ μή, ἀλλὰ πᾶν
στέργοντα

(2)
περὶ τὰ μαθήματα δυσχεραίνοντα 

(3)
ἀνδρείους, σώφρονας, ὁσίους, ἐλευθέρους, καὶ τὰ τοιαῦτα πάντα

Aristotle: Is “Non-feathered” a Genus of Animals?

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In the last post I primarily addressed Aristotle’s objection to dichotomous division, a taxonomic method that Platonists used to determine the kinds of animals there are and where any particular animal kind fits, an enterprise roughly equivalent to the animal-classification that for contemporary biology results in the designation of genus and species.  In particular, amongst Aristotle’s objections to dichotomous division, he says that grouping birds into, say, feathered and non-feathered, results in the absurdity that the latter does not exist

And yet it is necessary to divide by privation, and the dichotomists do divide [in this way].  But there is no difference of a privation qua privation.  For it is impossible for there to be species of what is not, for example of “non-footed” or of “non-winged” just as there are species of “footed” and “winged.”  Furthermore it is necessary that species belong to a generic difference.  For if they do not, why would they belong to a generic difference and not a specific difference? (Aristotle, Parts of Animals, 642b21-26).(1)

The objection substantively amounts to this: because a privation does not exist, e.g. “non-winged,” there cannot be any species subsequently derived from it.  And, as the concluding question makes clear, if in fact no pair of species can be divided from it, then this means that, e.g. “non-winged,” is a species.  This is evidently false, however, because “non-winged” is as indeterminate a species for ancient taxonomy as it would be for modern biology.

However, what if Platonists appealed to Aristotelian privation in making a case for dividing privation?   In his Physics Aristotle says this:

But white comes to be from the non-white, and not from everything [that happens to be non-white] but from black or from something between black and white, and an educated man comes to be from something that is not educated, but not just from anything that is not educated, but rather from an uneducated man, unless this happens incidentally.  Again the white turns into the non-white, and not into the chance non-white but into the black or an intermediate (Physics 188a36-188b6). (2)

Now Aristotle is clearly, in context, discussing how things come to be, and more particularly how this generation comes about from opposites.  A black beard, for example, comes to be white, where this whiteness is explicable by saying it comes to be from “non-white,” yet not just any non-white (as say, the number 1 is non-white), but from the opposite of white, black, or an intermediate, gray.

Nevertheless it seems plausible that this concept of privation, although employed to a very different purpose in the Physics than in our taxonomic concerns, establishes that we can use privation as a faithful ontological characterization of things.  If that is the case, there is no reason we cannot use “non-feathered” as a genus from which we can further dilineate more species.

Would Aristotle accept this understanding of privation from Physics for his work on animal classification?

More broadly, does this eliminate Aristotle’s original objection to privation as a method of division?

(1)
Translation mine:
Ἔτι στερήσει μὲν ἀναγκαῖον διαιρεῖν, καὶ διαιροῦσιν οἱ
διχοτομοῦντες. Οὐκ ἔστι δὲ διαφορὰ στερήσεως ᾗ στέρησις·
ἀδύνατον γὰρ εἴδη εἶναι τοῦ μὴ ὄντος, οἷον τῆς ἀποδίας ἢ τοῦ
ἀπτέρου ὥσπερ πτερώσεως καὶ ποδῶν. Δεῖ δὲ τῆς καθόλου δια-
φορᾶς εἴδη εἶναι· εἰ γὰρ μὴ ἔσται, διὰ τί ἂν εἴη τῶν καθόλου
καὶ οὐ τῶν καθ’ ἕκαστον;

(2)
Translation mine:
ἀλλὰ λευκὸν μὲν γίγνεται ἐξ οὐ λευκοῦ, καὶ τούτου οὐκ ἐκ παντὸς
ἀλλ’ ἐκ μέλανος ἢ τῶν μεταξύ, καὶ μουσικὸν οὐκ ἐκ μου-
σικοῦ, πλὴν οὐκ ἐκ παντὸς ἀλλ’ ἐξ ἀμούσου ἢ εἴ τι αὐτῶν
ἐστι μεταξύ. οὐδὲ δὴ φθείρεται εἰς τὸ τυχὸν πρῶτον, οἷον
τὸ λευκὸν οὐκ εἰς τὸ μουσικόν, πλὴν εἰ μή ποτε κατὰ συμ-
βεβηκός, ἀλλ’ εἰς τὸ μὴ λευκόν, καὶ οὐκ εἰς τὸ τυχὸν ἀλλ’
εἰς τὸ μέλαν ἢ τὸ μεταξύ·