Series | History of Ancient Western Philosophy, Pt. 10
Plato, Philosophical Dungeon Master
Breaking Into Dialectic in the Republic
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Welcome to Part 10 of the series. You can check out other entries by clicking below.
This installment will conclude our journey through Plato’s master work, the Republic. Our previous entry left off in the middle of Book VI… just after Socrates had begun to expound on the kind of education needed to create philosopher-rulers in the hypothetical city he envisioned.
We also followed the parallels between Socrates’s philosophical journey and the nautical quest on which Odysseus had famously been set.
Since some scholars believe the chapter-break between Books VI and VII may have been a consequence of ancient book making (after all, a scroll can only grow so long before it’s too big to carry), it’s possible Plato intended the rest of Book VI to be read alongside Book VII, as one continuous narrative.
With that in mind, we’ll explore how a dialectical theme is continued between the two. Plato stands out among the greatest of philosophers in part because his corpus consisted in a documentation and extension of Socratic dialectic that was one of the first — and STILL one of most ingenious — responses to the many paradoxes of the human quest for knowledge.
The interplay and unity of opposites in Plato’s version of dialectic was simultaneously method AND ontology… and it’s been the cornerstone of some of the deepest insights Western civilization has ever produced.
As Professor Sarah Broadie has pointed out, Plato thought of “the human being as a theoretical adventurer,” always seeking a “condition of not being hobbled by delusions.”
Dialectic and the Quest for Knowledge
Two of the most famous analogies in all of Plato’s works come in the 2nd half of Book VI.
It’s there that his narrator, Socrates, presents a pair of ideas that help explicate the aims of a philosopher-ruler’s education, culminating in the study of what he calls “the Form of the Good.”
Later, in Book VII, he’ll even lay out a lengthy curriculum — which really is more like a full-fledged philosophical QUEST — for would-be philosopher rulers.
He’ll suggest that promising youth should first receive an education in poetry, music, and folk-stories — all carefully designed to: 1) promote a sense of duty to the city and its people, and 2) present arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and harmonics through structured play.
A two to three year period of compulsory physical training should follow, lasting until age 20, during which no such “academic” pursuits are to be entertained. Then, for 10 years, they’ll be instructed in the art of dialectic — i.e. how to synthesize all that they’ve learned into a “unified vision.”
THIS, he’ll explain, is the greatest test for determining who’s fit to rule:
“For the person who can achieve a unified vision is DIALECTICAL, and the one who cannot isn’t… you have to look out for the ones among them who most possess that quality… and assign them yet greater honors.” [537c-d]
Next, Socrates will assert that (after 15 more years of practical experience in applying that unified vision) these rulers-in-training — at the age of 50 —will FINALLY be ready to study the Form of the Good itself.
Talk about LENGTHY QUESTS!
In Part 8 we saw Socrates suggest how this philosophical odyssey Glaucon’s challenge has set him on might be the loooong way to understanding Justice.
And he wasn’t kidding!
Like an expert Dungeon Master in the role-playing game Dungeons and Dragons, Plato definitely knew how to spin a yarn! But, even the world’s longest continuously running D&D campaign still has YEARS to go before it rivals the vision he laid out!
The similarities to D&D don’t end there, either.
Historical records show how the ancient Greeks loved games of chance and regularly played board games involving dice. In fact, the Metropolitan Museum of Art holds the oldest d20 ever recovered… dating back to the Greek-ruled Ptolemaic Kingdom of Egypt!
So, there’s a good chance that — at some point in his life — Plato sat around a table with a group of friends, shouting over some rolling dice.
The Sun and the Divided Line
Returning to the present discussion, Socrates considers several candidates for a definition of the Good— such as pleasure — and rejects them. He points out that we all make our choices with a view to the Good and that — whatever the Good turns out to be—it will be reflected in Truth, Justice, and Beauty.
Although Socrates doesn’t state what the Good is, per se, he at least offers an explanation for how the Form of the Good functions by drawing an analogy with the sun.
Just as the sun illuminates visible objects for the eye to see, so does the Good illuminate ideas for the intellect to perceive.
This is a fairly straightforward analogy, but Socrates quickly offers another that’s considerably more complex.
He invites those listening to consider a line divided into two unequal sections and then divided again into two similarly unequal sections. He explains that the two lowest parts should represent the visible realm and the top two parts the intelligible realm. Corresponding to each of these is a particular capacity of the human soul — imagination, belief, thought, and understanding.
Pay close attention to the ascending structure of the line… it will be important in a moment.
You might also notice how the objects of cognition change as we advance up the line — moving from mere images, through visible things and abstract concepts, and finally arriving at the Forms themselves.
In contemporary parlance, we’d likely cast the two sides of Plato’s line in terms of passive and active inquiry. On one hand, passive inquirers may find that the din of misinformation in our age of digital incredulity often drowns out critical thinking, reflection, and understanding. The result is that many find it increasingly difficult to distinguish trustworthy claims from untrustworthy ones.
Active inquirers, on the other hand, are those who QUEST after knowledge by asking WHY… which makes them less susceptible to delusional thinking.
Thus, Plato’s philosophical exemplar is one who can free herself — and others — from impediments to intellectual progress… the one who can emerge successfully from cavernous darkness.
Of Dungeons and Dialecticians
Almost everyone familiar with Plato has at least heard SOMETHING about the famous “Allegory of the Cave” found in Bk. VII of his Republic.
Although Socrates calls it a “cavern” in the dialogue, I think you’ll find its description sounds a lot more like a DUNGEON than a cave!
In case this is your first encounter with Plato’s dungeon-cave, I’ll share with you the awesome claymation video below. It does a much better job depicting the story than I ever could!
Now that we’re all familiar with the allegory, let’s unpack some of the details. The impetus for this allegory can be found at Stephanus 514a… with the concept of paideia.
Socrates narrates:
“‘Next,’ said I, ‘compare our nature in respect of PAIDEIA and its lack to such an experience as this. Picture men dwelling in a sort of subterranean cavern…’”
This is a term you probably already know… though you may not KNOW that you know it. It’s the root of words like encyclopedia — which comes directly from the Greek “enkyklos paideia” or “encompassing EDUCATION.”
But, paideia is really more than just education. It’s an across-the-board term for the conventions of a society, as well as the process by which those values are transmitted. In this sense, paideia refers to a lifelong edification, one which entails what we’d call in English BOTH ‘EDUCATION’ AND ‘CULTURE.’
Together these constitute a sort of “building up” of ideals that Plato believed required lifelong study.
Taking this as our cue, we might look at the rest of the allegory with an eye to deciphering its symbolism. It’s rather uncontroversial, in light of its similarity to the caves of Orphic stories and to the grotto of Empodocles, to suggest Plato’s cave is meant to represent a type of mundane ignorance… especially the ignorance of those who haven’t yet received philosophical initiation.
But, what should we make of the rest of the scene, especially once a freed prisoner emerges from darkness toward the light?
It seems to me that the cave itself could just as easily represent “state education,” or what we might call schooling today, understood in opposition to “self-directed inquiry.” This is the type of education earlier described by Socrates regarding the auxiliaries and what also comprises the first part of a guardian’s schooling… before they acquire a “unity of vision.”
That the cave is only partially illuminated by a dim fire might be symbolic of the inadequacy of this form of education in divulging the truths of understanding.
For those of us who teach ideas for a living, it is all too clear how difficult it is to impart this kind of critical inquiry. Unless students take it upon themselves to reach for it, it might NEVER be handed down. Sadly, many are content receiving regurgitated brute facts rather than trying to see for themselves how those facts hang together.
Part of the problem — for us and for the teachers of Plato’s day — is that our best efforts are often concealed, as if behind a low lying wall, by popular trends and cultural norms — which often preclude students from seeing the truth clearly. At times, it seems the best lessons we can offer are but mere shadows of the ideas we wish to convey.
Furthermore, many people today are just as bound by the egoism, prejudices, and skepticism of conventional society as the prisoners are by their chains in Plato’s allegory.
Of course, those who taught ideas for a living, in Plato’s day, were known as the Sophists.
If we continue our extension of the metaphor, we might say they’re represented by the merchants, hocking their wares on the path between illumination and obfuscation… between the fire and the low wall in side the cave.
When one of the prisoners in the story is suddenly freed, he quickly sees the inadequacies of this system. Fear, anger, and resentment would very likely be his natural reaction. Choosing to explore the cave further in the face of such overwhelming uncertainty would be nothing short of heroic.
Nonetheless, the freed prisoner makes his way toward a more brilliant source of light — i.e. the sun — at the mouth of the cave. He emerges from the cave of ignorance, and through a slow, arduous process of dialectical edification, he reaches an understanding of the Good itself.
Once the image of the cave is merged with the image of the divided line, the symbolism is hard to deny.
We come to realize that an ascent toward the surface is no mere day-trip.
But, how was the prisoner freed?
Plato doesn’t say.
At Stephanus 515c, Socrates implies that the breaking of the bond is spontaneous:
“Consider, then, what would be the manner of the release (literally: self-release) and healing from these bonds and this folly if in the course of nature something of this sort should happen to them: When one was freed from his fetters and compelled to stand up suddenly and turn his head around and walk and to lift up his eyes to the light…”
This should be a matter of no small concern for us.
If dialectic is the path one must traverse to become a philosopher, then how does one break the bonds of ignorance and convention and start on such a campaign?
In pondering this question I can’t but think of the words Michael Oakeshott, who wrote of education,
A human life is not a process in which a living organism grows to maturity, succeeds in accommodating itself to its surroundings or perishes. It is, in the first place, an adventure in which an individual consciousness confronts the world he inhabits, responds to what Henry James called ‘the ordeal of consciousness,’ and thus enacts and discloses himself. — p. 9
In the same way that one can’t simply decide, “Today I will become a philosopher,” it doesn’t seem possible to break INTO dialectic either arbitrarily or capriciously. It is an act that’s only available to us AFTER we’ve disclosed ourselves through harmony with the larger world around us.
Put simply, when it comes to dialectic, it seems to DO is to BE… or, more accurately, to BECOME.
It’s ALL about the QUEST!
When considered in this light, Socrates’s earlier statement that “the person who can achieve a unified vision is DIALECTICAL” need not lead us to some elitist kind of ESSENTIALISM. As the Cave and the Line demonstrate, nobody is BORN a philosopher. Socrates says it best… the power to learn is “present in everyone’s soul.” (518c)
And, that sheds some light on why Socrates was compelled to help his fellow Athenians escape their own delusions… to help them confront the world they inhabited… even in the face of his own death.
In the allegory, the freed prisoner returns to the dungeon to free others, but they can’t hear him… BECAUSE THEY MUST GRASP FOR THEMSELVES THE REALITY OF THEIR SITUATION. They get hold of the freed prisoner and, in a fit of denial, they kill him.
But, Socrates DID return to the cave, and Plato has him conclude the allegory by INSISTING that any freed prisoner MUST return.
For that is the only way the city will ever awaken from its fever-dream… when enough people who’ve caught glimpse of the outside return to change the conventions within the cave.
NOT by standing at the low wall and shouting down, but by living AMONG those still shackled, so that their eyes may adjust once again to the dark and BOTH worlds can be held in UNITY within a singular vision.
Again, as Socrates explains it,
“education is not what some people boastfully declare it to be. They presumably say they can put knowledge into souls that lack it, as if they could put sight into blind eyes.” (518b)
Perhaps THAT’s why Socrates always insisted he was merely a guide, a gadfly, or even a midwife… NOT a boss, nor a master, nor a birthgiver.
Finally, he asks Glaucon if the freed prisoners could ever ignore their exhortations to return to the cave.
Glaucon replies: “How could they? After all, we’d be giving Just orders to Just people.”
In Part 11 we’ll explore what Plato had to say about love when we turn to his Symposium.
Hope to see you there!
