‘Republic (Book III)’: How to Train the Perfect Ruler
A review of ‘Republic (Book III)’ by Plato; Penguin Classics, 2007.
In the third book of Plato’s Republic, things start to get practical. In the earlier parts, we explored grand ideas—justice, the soul—but here our inquisitive hero begins to get into the weeds and discuss the training of the ‘guardians’ who will make up the ruling class of the perfect city. It is because of its focus on the cultivation and pruning of individuals, on the conscious construction of character, that there is something very modern about this book.
This is about education. And what is important for Socrates is not just what is imparted to the young, would-be guardian, but what is not imparted, which is to say, that from which the young person is protected. Here we are discussing censorship: Socrates suggests that the young must be shielded from corrupting stories, which is why he would do away with Homer and indeed all poetry and music that might lead the mind astray. (The root of the English word education is the Latin educare, ‘to lead out’.) The guardians should hear only what inspires bravery, self-discipline and loyalty. There is to be no moral or intellectual junk food. Socrates’ argument rests on the belief that we are shaped by that to which we are exposed, which is of course true to a great extent (though, with Pinker and others, I do not think we are ‘blank slates’).
The guardians should hear only what inspires bravery, self-discipline and loyalty. There is to be no moral or intellectual junk food.
Having banned tragic epics, melancholy poetry and bad music, Socrates turns his attention to the body. He calls for a regime of physical training for the guardians that is sufficiently strict to keep them fit, but not so strict that they become mindless brutes. He aims to strike a balance between mind and body, wisdom and strength. The guardians’ diet is to be simple: there is to be no fancy food or drink, lest they enjoy themselves too much and stray from their path. The end-goal is the development of souls (‘selves’, to most of us) that are tough, just and steadfast. It is not enough for a guardian to be clever or knowledgeable. He—and let’s be honest, it would be a he—must be the right kind of person.
Pleasure is not wholly off the table, however. Plato’s Socrates may insist on tight control of the arts and the physical, but he wants the guardians to have some taste of pleasure, as well as beauty, if only in carefully regulated doses. He does not the guardians to be soft; but nor does he wish them to be hard. Balance, for Socrates, is everything; but as readers we cannot shed the thought that his vision is wholly unrealistic. He is describing automatons, and we ask ourselves if the crucial thing that is missing from Socrates’ picture of the guardian is humanity. For we human beings are fallible: we make mistakes. Surely, we find ourselves asking, we want the guardians of our perfect state to be human? One explanation for the success of Boris Johnson, and indeed Donald Trump, is that they are not perfect (far from it, in both cases). We know that people are not perfect, and so when our rulers or would-be rulers present themselves as such—when, in other words, they are far too polished—we grow suspicious. Not for nothing are so many film villains far too smooth; and not for nothing either are their heroes—consider Die Hard’s scruffy McClane—often so shabby.
It is in part because of the emphasis on censorship that Karl Popper, in The Open Society and Its Enemies, called Plato the ‘father of Fascism’. I am not convinced of this, though I catch his drift. What came to my mind as I read Book III is—and I think this is something important point—that in respect of self-cultivation, what we take away or avoid is as important, if not more so, than what we add. More often than not close attention is less a matter of effort than one of having few distractions. We are told our attention spans are shrinking, but the evidence for this is thin: far more persuasive, in my view, is the simple fact that there is more going on around us. It is hard to do anything when there are so many things we could be doing. Socrates’ proposes a restriction diet of influences, if you like, so the guardian’s attention is squarely on that which will improve him morally.
It is in part because of the emphasis on censorship that Karl Popper, in The Open Society and Its Enemies, called Plato the ‘father of Fascism’.
Stylistically, Socrates remains in charge of the discussion, but in Book III the role of his fellow interlocutors mutates somewhat. They shrink and become more like literary devices, added to prop up Socrates, than real challenges to his vision as Glaucon was in the earlier parts. The formality of the discussion mirrors the orderly picture of the city Socrates starts to describe, and fittingly, given his cold sketch of the guardians, there is a marked lack of warmth or charm in this dialogue.
There is, at any rate, it seems, little room for personal freedom in Plato’s ideal state, certainly in respect of its leaders. For the guardian, every stage in life is planned, from what he hears as a child to what he eats as an adult. It is a curious and chilling picture of education—reminiscent, in fact, of the Soviet Russian and Maoist approach to preparing athletes for the Olympic glory. Perhaps such schooling can work for that end. But Socrates is not discussing gymnasts, or weightlifters. He is talking about the would-be rulers of a city. And in my view, such semi-humans, deprived of anything like the full range of influence and experience, could never run anything well.
