THE LAWGIVER AND THE PHYSICIAN: MEDICAL IMAGERY IN PLATO’S
LAWS
A Dissertation
Submitted to the Graduate School
of the University of Notre Dame
in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements
for the Degree of
Doctor of Philosophy
by
Emma Cohen de Lara
_______________________Vittorio Hösle, Director
Graduate Program in Political Science
Notre Dame, Indiana
December 2008
THE LAWGIVER AND THE PHYSICIAN: MEDICAL IMAGERY IN PLATO’S
LAWS
Abstract
by
Emma Cohen de Lara
Both the philosopher and the lawgiver, in their attempt to cure the soul and promote
its health, are frequently compared to the physician in the Platonic dialogues. By
appealing to the reader’s own experience of health and disease, the medical images
help to engage the reader in the more abstract subject matter of the dialogue. This
dissertation collects and analyzes the medical imagery in Plato’s Laws. It explains
that, in the Laws, medical imagery works to show how the souls of the people in the
city are subdued, habituated, persuaded, and cured. This occurs in a way that is
distinct from the curing practice of philosophy. Whereas the philosopher aims to
purge the soul of false opinions in order to create space for reflection, the lawgiver
aims to train the emotions and instill correct opinions which would benefit life in the
city. The lawgiver proposes the use of wine as a drug that trains the pleasures, music
as a charm that seduces the soul, preambles that persuade the soul, and punishment
that re-balance the soul. Moreover, the lawgiver suggests that the city itself is healthy
when there is a balanced distribution of power.
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments...................................................................................................v
Chapter 1: Reading Plato’s Laws1.1 Introduction......................................................................................11.2 The Analytical Approach.................................................................71.3 The Straussian Approach...............................................................101.4 Critique of Imagery........................................................................15
Chapter 2: Plato and the Medical Practice of his Time2.1 Introduction....................................................................................192.2 Traditional Greek Medicine...........................................................202.3 The Use of the Charm....................................................................232.4 The Origins of medicine as a Science............................................252.5 The Hippocratic Doctrine of Health..............................................252.6 The Significance of Regimen.........................................................302.7 The Art of Persuasion....................................................................322.8 Conclusion.....................................................................................36
Chapter 3: Medical Imagery in the Platonic Dialogues3.1 Introduction..........................................................................................373.2 Plato’s Dialogues.................................................................................38
3.2.1 The Charmides.............................................................383.2.2 The Symposium............................................................423.2.3 The Gorgias.................................................................423.2.4 The Republic................................................................503.2.5 The Phaedrus...............................................................533.2.6 Sophistry......................................................................553.2.7 The Timaeus.................................................................563.2.8 The Statesman..............................................................58
3.3 Conclusion.....................................................................................60
Chapter 4: Wine as a Pleasure Drug4.1 Introduction..........................................................................................624.2 The Scholarly Literature......................................................................634.3 The Symposium in Ancient Athens.....................................................694.4 Wine as a Drug.....................................................................................74
4.4.1 Wine as a Pleasure Drug..............................................744.4.2 Wine as a Drug for the Elderly....................................834.4.3 Wine and the Lawgiver................................................84
4.5 Conclusion...........................................................................................86 iii
Chapter 5: The Healthy City5.1 Introduction....................................................................................885.2 The Origin of Cities.......................................................................93
5.2.1 The State of Nature......................................................935.2.2 The Origin of Legislation.............................................955.2.3 The Discovery of Due Measure...................................96
5.3 The Spartan Regime.....................................................................1005.4 The Regimes of Persia and Athens..............................................1015.5 The Regime of Magnesia.............................................................106
5.5.1 The Mean in Government..........................................1065.5.2 The Selection of Officers...........................................107
5.6 Conclusion.........................................................................................114
Chapter 6: Persuasion6.1 Introduction........................................................................................1166.2 Persuasion by Music..........................................................................119
6.2.1 Harmony in Greek Music...........................................1196.2.2 Virtue and the Law.....................................................1216.2.3 Three Levels of Virtue...............................................1246.2.4 Music as Education....................................................1266.2.5 Music as a Charm.......................................................131
6.3 Persuasion by Legislative Preambles.................................................1326.3.1 Legislative Preambles................................................1326.3.2 Legislative Preambles as Poetry................................1356.3.3 The Physician – Lawgiver Analogy...........................138
6.4 Conclusion...................................................................................142
Chapter 7: Diseases of the Soul7.1 Introduction..................................................................................1447.2 Disorders of the Soul...................................................................146
7.2.1 Disorder of the Constitutive Parts of the Soul...........1467.2.2 Disorder of the Lower part of the Soul......................1507.2.3 Disordered Opinions: The Case of Impiety...............1577.2.4 Voluntary and Involuntary Crimes............................159
7.3 Injustice in the City......................................................................1617.4 Types of Punishment....................................................................1627.5 Pollution.......................................................................................1717.6 Conclusion...................................................................................174
Chapter 8: Conclusion..........................................................................................175
Appendix A: The Testing of the Soul in Philosophical Discourse .....................179
Bibliography........................................................................................................186
iv
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank my committee at the University of Notre Dame: Vittorio
Hosle for having been conscientious and supportive throughout the whole
process, Catherine Zuckert for her kindness and penetrating comments, Michael
Zuckert for his generosity and continuing support, and Mary Keys for her
contributions and warmth. I also express my thanks to Kenneth M. Sayre for
providing helpful comments during the early stages of this dissertation.
This dissertation has largely been written in the great city of Chicago. For
the unforgettable company there I would like to thank Miriam Vos, Solenne
Grellier, Antonio DelGuidice, Vania Georgieva, Klavs Dolmer, Bill Stergiou,
Steve Kozup, and the many Europeans who made me feel at home away from
home. Whether or not in Chicago, Lara Ostaric, Melvin Schut, and David
Thunder each continue to offer lasting friendship as well as intellectual
inspiration. Special mention goes to Derek Webb who, as a fellow graduate
student and dear friend, has also read and commented on the entire dissertation. I
am grateful to the Notre Dame Dissertation Year Fellowship Fund and the
Loescher Fellowship for making my stay in Chicago financially possible. I would
also like to thank the Fulbright Program and the Earhart Foundation for their
financial support during the early years of my graduate career.
v
The University of Vermont has provided me with a beautiful home at the
end of writing this dissertation. The department of political science has been
wonderfully supportive, in particular George Moyser, Pat Neal, Bob Taylor,
Monicka Patterson-Tutschka, Lexie Hoerl, Travis Nelson, and Michelle
Commercio.
In the Netherlands, Andreas M. M. Kinneging was the one who introduced
me to the meaning and practice of political philosophy. I owe much to his
wisdom, encouragement, and continuing friendship.
The dissertation is dedicated to my parents who, along with my two
brothers, continue to cheer me on wherever I go. Special mention goes to mom for
reading the entire dissertation and improving upon it with her exceptional
command of the English language.
vi
CHAPTER 1
READING PLATO’S LAWS
1.1 Introduction
Plato’s Laws is a dialogue about law and lawgiving. Its main character, a stranger
from Athens, questions his interlocutors, Kleinias from Crete and Megillus from
Sparta, about the laws of their respective cities. After an extended discussion about
the use of drinking parties, education, and the origin of political regimes, Kleinias
reveals at the end of book III that his country is founding a new colony and that he
and nine others are commissioned to establish its laws. He proposes to Megillus and
the Athenian Stranger that they construct “a city in speech” (702d1-2). By doing so,
they will be able to examine the subject of law and lawgiving. At the same time
Kleinias suggests that he might use this construction in the city that he is
commissioned to found (702d3-5). The remaining part of the Laws, book IV through
book XII, deals with a wide range of issues that play a role in the founding of a city.
Despite its relevant subject matter, Plato’s Laws is not popular among students
of law and politics. The reasons for its unpopularity are numerous. The dialogue is
filled with detailed descriptions of legislation many of which seem strange,
1
redundant, or oppressive. The particularity and historicity of the legislative
proposals tend to distance the reader from the world of the Laws and make it hard to
read the dialogue with interest. There is no clear structure to the dialogue.1 Moreover,
the dialogue lacks the dramatic vigor and literary splendor that has drawn many
readers to other Platonic dialogues.2
This dissertation suggests that a way of engaging in the dialogue of the Laws,
and thereby with its subject matter, is by paying attention to the medical imagery in
the text. Imagery embellishes style and serves to make a text or speech more
appealing.3 The medical imagery in the Laws is part of the livelier aspects of the
dialogue and thus has the potential to engage the reader with the text. Moreover,
focusing on medical imagery in the text helps the reader learn about law and
lawgiving. Imagery, such as metaphors, promotes learning because they ground
abstractions in concrete experience. In the Platonic dialogues, the reader is often
offered concrete images that promote the recollection of the things-in-themselves.4
Even an actual dialogue can function in this way. Also, imagery, in particular
metaphors, facilitates learning because they demand the active engagement of the
1 This is not to say, of course, that scholars have not made attempts to understand the structure of the Laws. The standard interpretation regards the Laws as having the structure of a lex duplex, with book I-III constituting the preamble and book IV-XII constituting the actual legislation. For a sophisticated attempt at structuring the remainder of the Laws see Egil A. Wyller, Der Späte Platon. (Hamburg: Felix Meiner Verlag, 1970), 147-152. Wyller argues that the ranking of goods in book three is the ordering principle for book IV through XII. The ranking of goods posits god before soul before body before material possessions (697b). The resulting ordering is book IV- VI (settling and institution of magistrates): possessions – body; book VII: body – soul (education); book IX-X: soul – god; book XI-XII: god (Nocturnal Council).
2
2
A. E. Taylor puts it this way: “[In the Laws,] the dramatic element is reduced to a minimum; if one does not care for the subject-matter of the book, there is little in its manner to attract,” in Plato. The Man and his Work (New York: Meridian Books, 1960), 463.
3
3
As noted by Plato’s student Aristotle in his Rhetoric (1410b2-6).
4
4
Keith Holyoak and Paul Thagard, Mental Leaps: Analogy in Creative Thought (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1995), 2-9; and Gordon (1999), 137.
2
reader. 5 Metaphors illuminate the same element that is present in two different
entities, but do so by means of a comparison that is by definition incomplete,
highlighting some aspects while hiding others.6 The reader is invited to make the
comparison and fill in the blanks - as it were - using his own intellectual and creative
faculties.7
5
5
The Greek word metaphorá does not appear in the Platonic corups but Plato is obviously aware of the concept and its powers. He uses the word eikón to refer to an image, which can be a metaphor, analogy, myth or allegory, cf. Elizabeth E. Pender, Images of Persons Unseen: Plato’s Metaphors for the Gods and the Soul (Sankt Augustin: Academia, 2000), 37; “Plato on Metaphors and Models,” in G. R. Boys-Stones ed., Metaphor, Allegory and the Classical Tradition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003); and Jill Gordon, Turning towards Philosophy. Literary Device and Dramatic Structure in Plato’s Dialogues (University Park: Penn State University Press, 1999), 137.
6
6
George Lakoff and M. Johnson, Metaphors we live by (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980), 10. This is also the reason why several scholars distrust the metaphor. According to Aristotle, for example, the metaphor has a place in poetry and in persuasive, rather than demonstrative argument. Aristotle lauds the metaphor for its ornamental power: “It is a great thing, indeed, to make proper use of the poetic forms … But the greatest thing by far is to be a master of metaphor” (Poetics, 1459a) and in the Rhetoric Aristotle approves of the metaphor because it makes a speech more pleasant and popular (1410b2-6). However, Aristotle finds the metaphor inadequate when concerning demonstrative or scientific reasoning. First, the argument from analogy is based on incomplete induction; it is not based on an examination of all the particulars. Second, the argument from analogy applies a general law to a further particular case without establishing the universal proposition itself. Cf. G. E. R. Lloyd, Polarity and Analogy: Two Types of Argumentation in Early Greek Thought (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1966), 408. Another important critique of the metaphor is offered by Jacques Derrida, “Plato’s Pharmacy,” in Barbara Jones, ed., Dissemination (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981), 80-84. For further critique of the use of metaphors see below.7
7
In this respect, the metaphor is a particularly appropriate tool in Platonic dialogue, which itself invites the reader to learn by participating. Nails (2000) argues that “The dialogue form provides a means of encouraging readers and listeners to reason dialectically to defensible positions of their own, rather than to treat Plato’s words … as so authoritative as to obviate the necessity for intellectual labor.” Nails, Debra. “Mouthpiece Schmouthpiece,” in G. A. Press, ed., Who Speaks for Plato? (Lanham: Rowman, 2000). Cf. F. J. Gonzales, ed., The Third Way. New Directions in Platonic Studies. (Lanham: Rowman, 1995), 2. Kenneth M. Sayre argues that “philosophic knowledge is generated in conversations of the type exemplified in the Platonic dialogues themselves… Plato wrote in the form of dialogues in order to provide a dialectical context in which philosophic knowledge can take shape in the reader. From this it follows that the right way to read a Platonic dialogue, whatever else it amounts to, must be a manner of reading that allows this dialectical process to get under way,” Plato’s Literary Garden. How to Read a Platonic Dialogue (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2002), xiv.
3
Plato uses imagery in most of his dialogues.8 In the Laws, metaphors from the
art of sailing are used to argue that the city, like a ship, needs the permanent presence
of institutions that watch the city day and night (758a, 945c; see also 961c5, where
the Nocturnal Council is compared to an anchor for the city).9 Metaphors from the art
of war are used to argue that good law is like an archer (toxótes) who concentrates on
virtue without paying attention to wealth or any other considerations (706a1; cf.
934b), and the leader of the symposia is like a general (strategós) in the fight against
the effects of drunkenness (671d7). Last but not least, the Athenian Stranger argues
that man is like a divine puppet on strings who is moved around by his passions and
who needs to hold on to the noble pull of law (644d7-645b1).
In the Laws, medical imagery occupies a privileged position. For example, the
Athenian Stranger describes wine as a fear drug that puts awe in the souls of the
people (649a3, 672d7-9). Wine is also considered as a drug that heals the austerity of
old age (666b6). The games and songs that are an integral part in the education of the
members of the city are referred to as “incantations,” which played an important role
8
8
Cf. Jacques Jouanna, “Le Médecin Modèle du Législateur dans les Lois de Platon,” Ktema (1978), 83; and Randall Baldwin Clark, The Law Most Beautiful and Best. Medical Argument and Magical Rhetoric in Plato’s Laws (Oxford: Lexington Books, 2003). Scholars who have studied the use of medical language in the Platonic corpus as a whole are Mark M. Moes, Plato’s Dialogue Form and the Care of the Soul (New York: Peter Lang, 2000) and “Plato’s Conception of the Relations between Moral Philosophy and Medicine,” Perspectives in Biology and Medicine 44 (2001), 353-367; Mario Vegetti, “La Medicina in Platone,” Rivista Critica di Storia della Filosofia 21, no. 1 (1966), 3-39; Joel W. Lidz, “Medicine as Metaphor in Plato,” Journal of Medicine and Philosophy 20 (1995), 527-541.
9
9
George Olaf Berg, Metaphor and Comparison in the Dialogues of Plato (Berlin: Mayer, 1903) and Pierre Louis, Les Métaphores de Platon (Paris: Guillaume Budé, 1945) offer helpful references to the different metaphors in the Platonic corpus.
4
in the traditional art of healing (659e1). Moreover, the Athenian Stranger argues that
rulers suffer from diseases, by which he refers to their tendency to usurp power
(691a1-2). The Athenian Stranger calls these rulers feverish (691e3) and argues that
no human being is capable of ruling over others without becoming sick with endless
evil (714a5-6). Also, the Athenian Stranger compares the lawgiver to a physician who
should persuade his patient before commanding him (720d). The need to persuade
also applies to the gymnast who is training his pupils (720e3). The members of the
city are prone to illnesses such as desiring too much food, drink, sex, and material
possessions (782e-3a). One of the graver illnesses of the soul is impiety (888b8).
This dissertation collects and analyzes the medical imagery in the Laws, in an
attempt to explain the Laws and help the reader engage with the text of the Laws. The
argument of the dissertation is that medical imagery helps explain different facets of
law and lawgiving as put forth by the Athenian Stranger. Medical imagery is effective
because it invites the reader to make a connection between abstract concepts (law,
virtue) and something with which all human beings are familiar (body, health). Man
is naturally partial to his body and all human beings have an experiential
understanding of health and disease.10 Focusing on medical imagery is particularly
useful for understanding the following issues in the Laws: the nature of testing and
educating the soul, the distribution of power in the regime, the need for persuading
10
1
Ludwig Edelstein, “The Relation of Ancient Philosophy to Medicine,” Bulletin of the History of Medicine 26 (1952), 311.
5
the members of the city to follow the law by means of legislative preambles, and the
effect of penalties on the soul of the criminal. In the dissertation the medical imagery
is discussed in the order that it appears in the text.
The dissertation will show, by analyzing the medical imagery, that what is
distinctive about the Laws is its focus on (educating) the lower part of the soul, which
is the part that is most closely connected to the body and that harbors pleasures and
pains, fears and desires, in order to bring about consonance between the lower and
higher part of the soul. Medical imagery in the Laws is used to acknowledge the
ongoing danger of disorder in the soul due to man’s physical nature, and hence the
continuing need for training and monitoring the lower part of the soul. This is the
purpose of the law and customs of the city.
The plan of the dissertation is as follows. This introduction continues with a
discussion of the secondary literature on the Laws. Following this chapter, chapter 2
deals with the practice and developments in Greek medicine during Plato’s time.
Chapter 3 provides an analysis of medical imagery in other Platonic dialogues.
Chapters 4 through 7 analyze medical imagery in the Laws, in the order in which the
images appear in the dialogue. Chapter 4 explains the metaphor of wine as a drug that
shames people into obedience, in Book 1 and 2 of the Laws. Chapter 5 explores the
metaphor of disease that is used to describe the excessive desires of the rulers and
which leads to a discussion of the appropriate distribution of power in the city in
Book 3 of the Laws. Chapter 6 analyzes the medical imagery that is used to describe
6
the kind of persuasion that takes part in the city, both in Book 2 and Book 4 of the
Laws. Chapter 7 examines the metaphor of disease used to describe the criminal and
the appropriate remedies for curing his soul in Book 9 of the Laws.
1.2 The Analytical Approach
Imagery addresses the reader not merely in an intellectual sense but instead appeals to
the person as a whole. The reader brings his imagination, emotions, and life
experiences to bear in interpreting imagery. Therefore, a way of reading the Laws that
highlights imagery differs substantially from what has come to be called the
analytical approach. The analytical approach is concerned with the logical analysis of
the arguments in the dialogues. These arguments are oftentimes compared across
dialogues and evaluated in terms of their consistency, validity, soundness etc.11 The
analytical approach does not ignore images or metaphors but is interested only in the
propositions, arguments, premises and conclusions that can be derived from them. In
this way, the analytical approach ignores the potential of imagery to engage, teach,
and persuade the reader.
Christopher Bobonich’s Plato’s Utopia Recast is a helpful illustration of the
analytical approach.12 In order to understand Bobonich’s interpretation of the medical
imagery in the Laws, it is necessary to examine his overall argument. Bobonich 11
1
Gordon (1999), 3.12
1
Christopher Bobonich, Plato’s Utopia Recast. His Later Ethics and Politics (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2002).
7
proposes that Plato’s Laws offers a more egalitarian and optimistic understanding of
virtue and of the ability of politics to educate the people compared to Plato’s
Republic. In the Republic, according to Bobonich, the non-philosopher does not
become fully virtuous.13 Virtue as a whole requires the possession of wisdom, which,
in turn, depends on education in mathematics that draws one towards being. Only the
very few are capable of such an enterprise.14 On account of lacking wisdom, the non-
philosopher is expected to obey law and command. According to Bobonich, this
obedience lacks rational consent and is the result of habituation and opinion imparted
by stories and lies.15 Bobonich argues that Plato changed his mind in the Laws. The
members of the city are still obedient to the law but to these are now added
preambles, which provide the member of the city with “good epistemic reasons for
thinking that the principles lying behind the legislation are true.”16 Preambles educate
the members of the city: “What the lawgiver and the preludes actually do is
characterized as ‘teaching,’ that is, giving reasons to the citizens and bringing it about
that they ‘learn.”17 Bobonich does not claim that the teaching by laws makes the
13
1
Bobonich (2002), 43.14
1
Bobonich (2002), 53.15
1
Bobonich (2002), 72.16
1
Bobonich (2002), 104.17
1
Bobonich (2002), 104.
8
members of the citizens wise. Instead, citizens acquire correct opinions, but this has
become a “valid cognitive state” that renders the individual fully virtuous.18
Bobonich’s approach ignores the dramatic action of the Republic and the
Laws, which poses a problem for his argument. For example, he fails to appreciate
that Socrates introduces the notion of virtue as a whole in book IV of the Republic,
before the discussion of the philosopher’s education in book V-VII.19 The non-
philosopher is not excluded from virtue but, instead, possesses excellence and
happiness appropriate to his abilities and education.
More important in the context of this dissertation is that Bobonich makes little
effort to interpret the medical images used by the Athenian Stranger to illustrate or
support his arguments. For example, one of the important medical references in the
Laws is the analogy between the physician who persuades his patients before
commanding them and the lawgiver who writes preambles to persuade the members
of the city to obey the law. Persuasion is part of the gentle method in which law can
guide people through life. Bobonich argues that this kind of persuasion educates the
rational part of the soul. However, reflection on the image of the physician leading a
patient back to health allows the reader to see that his efforts do not merely consist of
imparting correct opinion. The dialogue between patient and physician involves an
18
1
Bobonich (2002): “no longer is there a sharp discontinuity between the ethical cognitive resources of philosophers and non-philosophers,” 219.19
1
For an exceptionally insightful discussion of the flaws in Bobonich’s argument see Charles H. Kahn, “From Republic to Laws. A Discussion of Christopher Bobonich, Plato’s Utopia Recast,” Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy 26 (2004), 337-362.
9
appeal to the emotions as well as to reason. The patient needs to be coaxed into
obedience and needs to submit to the physician who possesses greater knowledge. In
part this submission is an emotional act, not simply an intellectual or, in Bobonich’s
words, “cognitive” act.
1.3 The Straussian Approach
An important alternative approach to reading Plato’s dialogues is defined by Leo
Strauss.20 Strauss’ reading of ancient texts builds on the recognition that philosophy
and society are in tension with one another. Strauss argues as follows: “Philosophy or
science, the highest activity of man, is the attempt to replace opinion about “all
things” by knowledge of “all things;” but opinion is the element of society;
philosophy or science is therefore the attempt to dissolve the element in which society
breathes, and thus it endangers society.”21 In other words, philosophy poses a threat to
society. Of course, this is illustrated most effectively by the persecution and
conviction of Socrates by the city of Athens in 399 B.C.
According to Strauss, the dangerous tension between philosophy and society
has led philosophy to develop a manner of writing that enables them to reveal truth to
20
2
Leo Strauss, “On a New Interpretation of Plato’s Political Philosophy,” Social Research 13 (1946), 326-367; Leo Strauss, Persecution and the Art of Writing (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1952); Leo Strauss, Natural Right and History (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1953); Leo Strauss, What is Political Philosophy? (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1959).
21
2
Strauss (1959), 221.
10
the few without disturbing the opinions upon which society rests.22 This manner of
writing conveys two teachings: the esoteric (and true) teaching and the exoteric (and
socially useful) teaching. Whereas the exoteric teaching is easily accessible to every
reader, the esoteric teaching “discloses itself only to very careful and well-trained
readers after long and concentrated study.”23
Philosophers who are aware of the tension between their own practice and
society use several techniques to communicate the esoteric teaching to the few.
Indications that point toward esoteric teaching are, in Strauss’ words, “blunders as
would shame an intelligent high-school boy,” including contradictions.24 Other
techniques are suspicious omissions or silences, especially when the philosopher
purports to explain the views of another philosopher but does so selectively.25
Esoteric teachings are often buried in the middle of a text.26 “[O]bscurity of the plan,
contradictions within one work or between two or more works of the same author,
omission of important links of the argument” are also techniques employed in esoteric
22
2
Strauss (1959), 222.23
2
Strauss (1959), 222.24
2
Strauss (1959), 223.25
2
An example is Farabi’s On the Attainment of Happiness which, as Strauss (1952) argues, contains summaries of the philosophies of Plato and of Aristotle but is silent about the immortality of the soul and life after death, 13.26
2
Strauss (1952) points out that Farabi writes about Plato in the second and “therefore the least exposed part of a tripartite work” that is On the Attainment of Happiness, 13.
11
writing.27 The careful reader will notice and investigate these peculiarities, leading
him towards the philosophical teaching of the text.
With regard to Plato’s writings, Strauss emphasizes that Plato in the Seventh
Letter declared that no one writes about “nature’s highest and first things” (341b5 ff,
344d4-5). This indicates, according to Strauss, that Plato’s serious teaching is not
communicable through writing as other teachings are.28 Instead, the Platonic
dialogues have the function not of articulating certain doctrines “but of intimating the
most important truths to “some,” while they have at the same time the much more
obvious function of producing a salutary (civilizing, humanizing and cathartic) effect
on all.”29
According to Strauss, the fact that Plato wrote dialogues is connected to
Plato’s critique of writing. The dialogue form is a way for Plato to keep his own
views hidden, by which they become particularly un-dogmatic. However, the
dialogue form – according to Strauss – also enables Plato to speak to the careful
reader more directly. “For presenting his teaching Plato uses not merely the “content”
of his works (the speeches of his various characters) but also their “form” (the
dialogic form in general, the particular form of each dialogue and of each section of
it, the action, characters, names, places, times, situations and the like).”30 The main
27
2
Strauss (1952), 31.28
2
Strauss (1946), 349.29
2
Strauss (1946), 350.30
Strauss (1946), 352.
12
hermeneutical principle is that “an adequate understanding of the dialogues
understands the “content” in the light of the “form.”31 The order and context of the
argument in the dialogue are important and that, in good writing, nothing is
superfluous.32 In particular images or myths should be read within the dialogical
context. They are important because they point towards truths that go beyond the
other statements in the dialogue.33
A drawback of the Straussian approach is that it prioritizes form over method.
This has led some scholars to reduce the content or message of the dialogue to what
can be learned from the form, thereby ignoring the substance of the arguments in the
dialogue. These arguments are presented to the reader not merely to underline the
teaching that can be learned from the form of the dialogue. Instead, these arguments
have meaning and can be interpreted in their own right. The following example
illustrates the problems caused by reducing content to what can be learned from form.
Randall Baldwin Clark’s The Law Most Beautiful And Best follows the
Straussian approach and, moreover, deals specifically with medical imagery in the
Laws.34 Following Strauss, Clark’s argues that the Laws should be read on two levels.
31
3
Strauss (1946), 352.32
3
Strauss (1946), 353.33
3
Strauss (1946), 353-4.34
3
Clark (2003); for a review of this book, see Joseph Reisert, Law and Politics Book Review, www.bsos.umd.edu/gvpt/lpbr/subpages/reviews/clark805.htm.
13
As he puts it, in the Laws there are “two basic arguments, each of them addressed to a
different audience.”35 The first audience Clark discerns is made up of the elderly
Kleinias and Megillus, whom the Athenian Stranger tries to make more amendable to
the influence of philosophy by using references from both rational and traditional
medicine. The second audience is that of the reader. According to Clark, Plato targets
his youthful readers and uses references to traditional medicine to show them that
there are limitations to what philosophy can achieve in the city.36 This is the most
important message that can be learned from the dialogue.
However, as Clark admits, it is “counterintuitive” to think of the second
audience as the philosophically minded young.37 After all, the Athenian Stranger
makes it clear that they can talk freely about law exactly because there are no young
people present (634e). The young are excluded because they are too ambitious.
According to Clark, however, “[t]he young reader is both absent and interested
precisely because he was ‘banished’ from the dialogue shortly after it began.”38 This
seems incorrect for several reasons. First of all, it is likely that the tedious discussion
about law puts off rather than appeals to a young person, and that the young are
unlikely to identify with the three old men who are the main characters in the
35
3
Clark (2003), 2.36
3
Clark (2003), 8.37
3
Clark (2003), 8.38
3
Clark (2003), 8.
14
dialogue. Secondly, to read a book because it is prohibited caters to the childish
motivation of doing something exactly because one is not supposed to. This
motivation plays a role for many people but precisely not with those who are
philosophically minded.39
Clark ignores the role that medical imagery plays in the arguments of the text
of the Laws as they concern virtue, law, and education, the central concepts in the
Laws. Instead, he is mainly concerned in persuasion both on the level of the dialogue
and between dialogue and reader. Clark’s main conclusion, that the young are
persuaded about the limitations to what philosophy can achieve in the city, is
surprising because philosophy is hardly talked about in the dialogue.40 As mentioned
earlier, the risk of this approach is that it studies the form of the dialogue at the
expense of the content of the arguments.
1.4 Critique of Imagery
Several philosophers are suspicious of the demonstrative or heuristic advantages of
the metaphor. Aristotle is critical about the use of the metaphor in reasoning and
particularly in giving definitions.41 In Posterior Analytics, he argues that “[i]f
39
3
Instead, the philosophically minded person is motivated by a love for wisdom, rather than a desire for trying to figure out that which is kept from him by the eldery. On the philosopher’s love for wisdom see Plato, Republic (475b).40
4
Philosophy is only mentioned two times near the end of the Laws (857d, 967c).41
4
Lloyd (1966), 404.
15
metaphors should not be used in reasoning, it is clear that one should not use
metaphors in giving definitions, nor should one define metaphorical expressions”
(139b32 ff.). In the Topics, Aristotle concludes that “every metaphorical expression is
obscure” (123a33 ff., 158b8ff.). In the Organon, Aristotle elaborates on his critique
of the use of metaphor in demonstrative reasoning. The argument from analogy is
based on incomplete induction; it is not based on an examination of all the particulars.
Moreover, the argument from analogy applies a general law to a particular case
without establishing the universal proposition itself.42
The postmodern philosopher Jacques Derrida offers a very different
evaluation of the metaphor. In Plato’s Pharmacy, Derrida argues that the written
word can be deceptive, or even destructive of the author’s intention. The written word
is like “the son” to a father who is no longer present to care for it or even to protect
himself from the subversive actions of the being which he has created. The father is
not present to prevent “patricidal subversion.”43 Compared to the written word, the
spoken word is alive because it has “a father that is present, standing near it, behind
it, within it, sustaining it with his rectitude, attending it in person in his own name.”44
Images in written texts are susceptible to the same problem. According to
Derrida, images function like a son abandoned by the father and have the potential to
42
4
Lloyd (1966), 408. 43
4
Derrida (1981), 77.44
4
Derrida (1981), 77.
16
deceive rather than illuminate and even to destroy the meaning of that which they are
to represent. To support this argument, Derrida explains that the image of the sun in
the Republic is presented by Socrates as “the offspring (ekgonos) of the good
(506e).”45 By offering the child of the good, Socrates “backs away” from speaking of
the good in itself.46 This is because, according to Derrida, it is not possible to speak
simply or directly about the father or the good, in the same way as it is impossible to
stare at the sun; staring at the sun will cause “bedazzlement,” confusion, and
blindness.47
However, according to Derrida, the sun is created by the father which is the
good.48 In like manner, the good is the father of logos (word). Yet, as we have seen, it
is not possible to speak of the good directly. This means that we cannot speak about
what the logos is accountable to.49 This invites “the ever open possibility of the
kibdelon, that which is falsified, adulterated, mendacious, deceptive, equivocal. Have
a care, he [Socrates] says, lest I deceive you with a false reckoning of the interest
45
4
Derrida (1981), 81.46
4
Derrida (1981), 81.47
4
Derrida (1981), 82.48
4
Derrida is too brief in explaining his argument. He writes “[t]he figure of the father, of course, is also that of the good (agathon). Logos represents what is indebted to: the father who is also chief, capital, and goods(s). Or rather the chief, the capital, the goods(s). Pater in Greek means all that at once. Neither translators nor commentators of Plato seem to have accounted for the play of these schemas. It is extremely difficult, we must recognize, to respect this play in translation, and the fact can at least be explained in that no one has ever raised the question,” 81.49
4
Derrida (1981), 83.
17
(507a).”50 According to Derrida, the recourse to logos or to images protects us from
the sun; “Logos is thus a resource. One must turn to it, and not merely when the solar
source is present and risks burning the eyes if stared at; one has also to turn away
toward logos when the sun seems to withdraw during its eclipse. Dead, extinguished,
or hidden, that star is more dangerous than ever.”51
It goes too far to discuss the metaphysical implications of Derrida’s argument.
Suffice to say that an important difference between the metaphor discussed by
Derrida and the metaphors in the Laws is that the latter are not presented as images of
metaphysical entities, such as the Good, but of practical things, such as the relation
between institutions or the nature of persuasion. The metaphors in the Laws do not
function heuristically but, instead, are meant to facilitate teaching. They are meant to
help the reader understand the practical necessities associated with lawgiving.
The author of a metaphor does not control its interpretation absolutely. The
interpretation of the metaphor depends in part on the mindset of the interpreter. This
can be an advantage and conforms to a certain style of learning that Plato is trying to
accomplish. Moreover, interpretation of the metaphor (or image) is constrained by the
context of the dialogue. Let us now turn to the historical context of the medical
metaphor.
50
5
Derrida (1981), 83.51
5
Derrida (1981), 84.
18
CHAPTER 2
PLATO AND THE MEDICAL PRACTICE OF HIS TIME
2.1 Introduction
As argued in the introduction to this dissertation, Plato often makes use of medical
imagery in his dialogues, including the Laws. To a large extent these images can be
understood on their own terms. However, in order to fully appreciate their meaning,
the modern reader needs to share some of the context of ancient Greek medicine in
order to fully appreciate the experiential basis of the medical imagery. This is so
especially because ancient Greek practices of medicine differs in important ways
from modern medicine. Studying the historical context of the medical imagery alerts
the reader to dimensions of the images of which s/he may otherwise remain unaware.
The purpose of this chapter is to explain the main developments in ancient
Greek medicine. First, the chapter discusses the traditional ways of practicing
medicine prominent in ancient Greece from the 8th century onwards. Next, the chapter
discusses the notion of the charm as one of the tools of traditional medicine. Third,
the chapter describes the development of scientific medicine as evident in the
Hippocratic writings in the 5th and 4th century B.C. It also discusses two important
concepts in scientific medicine, namely, the Hippocratic conception of health and the
importance of regimen. The last part of the chapter deals with the physician-patient
19
relationship in ancient Greece and explains why the ancient Greek physician was
compelled to become a master of persuasion as well as a master of healing.
2.2 Traditional Greek Medicine
During Plato’s life two strains of medicine coexisted in the Greek world. On the one
hand there was the traditional medicine which included religious and magical ways of
healing and which relied on temple priests, seers, magicians and purifiers to facilitate
a cure. On the other hand, in the 5th and 4th century B.C., Hippocrates and his students
established medicine as an independent profession with rational-scientific methods.
Plato uses references from both types of medicine at several times throughout his
work.
In the 8th century B.C., disease was viewed as the result of the operation of a
divine or supernatural agency in human affairs. The art of healing involved prayers
and sacrifices that were performed with the intent of invoking the action of the gods
to halt the disease. In Homer’s Iliad, it is the god Apollo who is responsible for the
plague that ravages the Achaeans and that triggers the action described in the epic
poem (I, 9 ff).52 The disease is portrayed as divine punishment for Agamemnon’s
refusal to return Chryses’ daughter Chryseis, who had been taken captive in the spoils
of war. The seer Calchas is called upon to interpret the meaning of Apollo’s anger, in
response to which Agamemnon duly restores Chryses’ daughter in addition to
performing a massive sacrifice. The plague comes to an end after Chryses himself has
prayed to Apollo, beseeching him to end the affliction (I, 449-457).
52
5
Homer, Iliad, trans. Richard Lattimore (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961).
20
At the same time, Homer presents medical practice as a human skill and
diseases as having natural causes.53 The two most famous physicians in the Iliad,
Machaon and Podalirius, are not ritual specialists, but ordinary human beings whose
proficiency as physicians was based on human skills such as cutting out arrows and
smearing ointments on wounds. Machaon, the son of Asclepius, cares for Menelaus,
Agamemnon’s brother, who is struck by an arrow from the bow of Pandarus spurred
on by Minerva. Rather than beseeching Minerva, Machaon is said to examine the
wound, wipe away the blood and apply soothing herbs (IV, 210 ff.).
A more general statement about the nature of disease as sent from the gods is
found in Hesiod’s Works and Days.54 Hesiod writes that humans would have lived
without disease if it were not for Pandora. Pandora is described as a beautiful girl
with a treacherous nature, who brings evil, work, and “wearing sickness” to man.55
Zeus has given man Pandora. Further on, in Hesiod’s description of the age of iron,
Zeus is said to reward justice with prosperity and punish injustice with famine and the
plague.56 Disease is clearly viewed as the result of divine intervention in human
affairs.57
During the second half of the 5th century B.C., the spiritual character of
medical practice becomes evident in the practice of temple healing. The sick would
53
5
G. E. R. Lloyd, In the Grip of Disease (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 17.54
5
Hesiod, Works and Days, trans. Richmond Lattimore (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1970).
55 Hesiod (1970), 101.
56 Hesiod (1970), 242.
57
5
Lloyd (2003), 14-21.
21
make a pilgrimage to one of the many sanctuaries of Asclepius, for example at
Epidaurus or at Cos. Asclepius, the son of the god Apollo, had attained the status of
“the divine healing power.”58 After bathing and offering sacrifices, the pilgrims would
return to sleep in the temple where the god Asclepius would reveal himself during the
night. According to testimonies, the god proceeded to heal them in different ways, for
example, by wiping off the disease with his divine hand as in the case of the Coan
Asclepius, or by taking the disease away overnight, as in the case of Asclepius of
Pergamum. The god would also prescribe remedies such as baths, gymnastics, or
diet.59 Edelstein and Edelstein ascribe Asclepius’ popularity, which continued
throughout the early Christian period, to the dwindling belief in the Olympian gods
from the end of the 5th century B.C. onwards and to the Greeks’ increased craving for
a personal relationship to a deity.60
Besides the practice of temple healing, there was a heterogeneous mass of
people who claimed they could heal the sick. These healers were herb collectors or
root cutters, diviner-healers, purifiers, exorcists, sorcerers, drug-sellers, magicians
and shamans.61 For our purposes, the root-cutters and diviner-healers are of particular
interest because they often used healing charms alongside the application of products
found in nature such as roots, fruits, or leaves to cure the patient. As we will see in
58
5
Emma J. L. Edelstein, Asclepius: A Collection and Interpretation of the Testimonies (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1945), 125. The Athenian physician Eryximachus in Plato’s Symposium speaks of “our ancestor Asclepius [who] first established medicine as a profession” (186e). In Homer’s time Asclepius was not yet a god but an earthly prince from Trica in Thessaly.59
5
Edelstein (1945), 148-154.60
6
Edelstein (1945), 110-111.61
6
G. E. R. Lloyd, Magic, Reason, and Experience (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979), 38; and Ph. J. van der Eijk Eijk, H. F. J. Horstmanhoff, and P. H. Schrijvers, eds., Ancient Medicine in its Socio-Cultural Context (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1995), 363.
22
the next chapter, Socrates expresses the hope that his clever use of words will
“charm” his interlocutors both in the Charmides and the Gorgias. In the Laws, the
Athenian Stranger suggests that the legislator “charm” the members of the city with
the use of music.
2.3 The Use of the Charm
The use of charms or incantations was widespread during the archaic period (from
Homer to Pericles) and did not loose its force until the final years of the Hellenistic
period.62 Traditionally, the charm was a verbal formula of a magical nature that was
recited or sung in the presence of the patient in order to bring about his cure.63 The
preposition epí- in the Greek word for charm (epoidé) is aimed at the object of the
epoidé, which could be anything from a spirit, a god, or a human being, to a wound,
or a plant. Like the preposition “in” in the word incantation, a charm is meant to put
its object under its spell. The second part of the word refers to “song” or “address”
(oidé, a contraction of aoidé).64 The purpose of casting a charm is to achieve whatever
one needs but cannot get by means of one’s natural resources. Those needs may be,
for example, to change the weather, to influence the feelings of one’s beloved, or
make another person obey, but also to cure a disease.
When used for curative purposes, the words of the charm were not addressed
to the patient himself, but to the divine powers that were considered to rule over the
62
6
Lloyd (1979), 22.63
6
Pedro Laín Entralgo, The Therapy of the Word in Classical Antiquity (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1970), 110.64
6
F. Pfister, Epode, in Georg Wissowa, Realencyclopädie der Classischen Altertumswissenschaft (Stuttgart: J. B. Metzlersche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1924), 323.
23
activities of nature.65 This indicates that the charm was very much part of the
traditional practice of medicine that viewed disease as being caused by divine
interference. Healing was seen as a battle against evil spirits or gods that possessed
the body and had to be evoked. Even if people realized that the disease had natural
causes, popular belief was that these causes had somehow been evoked by evil spirits,
which could be appeased by the recitation of the charm.66 The Hippocratic author of
The Sacred Disease writes of “magicians, purifiers, charlatans and quacks,” who
claimed that epileptic patients, with their fits and convulsions, were possessed by a
god (1).67 Healers are said to use charms and magic to deal with the affliction (3.9-
10). The author of The Sacred Disease considers the methods of such healers both
impious and unscientific, and argues that the cause of epilepsy is not divine but
natural.
The metaphorical use of the word epoidé occurs intermittently in early Greek
literature and asserts itself fully during the period in which democracy flourished in
Athens. In a democracy, speaking well entailed great power and people were in awe
of politicians and rhetoricians who were able to speak effectively. In Jacqueline de
Romilly’s words, the Greeks were “enthralled by the power of speech.”68 On account
65
6
Entralgo (1970), 27. 66
6
Pfister (1924), 325.67
6
References are to the Loeb edition: Hippocrates, The Sacred Disease, vol. 2, trans. W. H. S. Jones (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1992). The treatise is traditionally attributed to the school of Cos and dates from the second half of the fifth century, Jacques Jouanna, Hippocrates, trans. M. B. DeBevoise (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999), appendix 3, 412.68
6
Jacqueline de Romilly, Magic and Rhetoric in Ancient Greece (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1975), 37.
24
of its power to influence people, the suggestive word acquired the near status of a
magic charm.69
The rhetorician Gorgias explicitly equates the persuasive use of words with a
charm in his Encomium on Helen.70 Speech, according to Gorgias, is a great power
that can gain a hold on people’s emotions. Persuasive speech can “stop fear, remove
grief, create joy, and increase pity” (8). Words used persuasively are like charms that
work like magic (10). Words can be used so effectively because opinion is unreliable
but, according to Gorgias, opinion is all man has. Therefore, so argues Gorgias,
deception is easy (11). Gorgias compares the power of speech to the effect of drugs
on the body. As drugs can drive out different humors from the body, so can words
induce emotions like grief, pleasure or fear, impacting the order of the soul. The
power of drugs is ambiguous. Likewise, words, according to Gorgias, can either
restore or destroy order (14).
2.4 The Origins of Medicine as a Science
Contrary to what one may expect, a genuine science of healing developed
concurrently with the success of traditional medicine.71 Rational medicine as
69
6
The power of speech became so widely admired in democratic Athens that persuasion (peítho) attained the status of a deity. The goddess Peítho was contrasted with Bía (force) and Anánke (necessity). She often plays the role of amorous seducer. Her influence can be either charitable or deceptive. Entralgo (1970), 64-67.70
7
In Kathleen Freeman, Ancilla to the Pre-Socratic Philosophers (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1948), 131-33.71
7
Lloyd (2003), 41. Cf. Lloyd (1979), 45; L. Cohn-Haft, “The Public Physicians of Ancient Greece,” Smith College Studies in History 42 (1956): 13; and De Romilly (1975), 14, 25.
25
proposed by Hippocrates advanced in the 5th century B.C., while the cult of Asclepius
became increasingly popular in the same era.72
The approaches and attitudes of traditional medicine and rational medicine
were radically distinct. Nevertheless, some terminology and tools were shared. First,
dreams were accepted as diagnostic tools in both approaches. In temple medicine,
dreams constituted the god’s way of conveying advice about the cure. In the
Hippocratic texts, dreams were accepted as diagnostic tools, although they were
considered as ensuing from purely physical causes.73 A second concept shared in both
approaches was that of ritual cleansing (kátharsis). The purifiers in traditional
medicine used this method. Hippocratic physicians used the term kátharsis to indicate
a process of physical purgation, although they prescribed laxatives and emetics
instead of charms and incantations. Third, the practice of prognosis in rational
medicine was reminiscent of the role of the prophet in traditional medicine. 74 In both
traditions, prognosis was the main component in the process of establishing and
defending the physician’s authority.75 Prognosis was always formulated in words that
would impress the patient on account of their gravity. Fourth, priests who practiced
temple medicine had recourse to drugs commonly prescribed in rational medicine,
72
7
Inscriptions from Asclepian shrines date mostly from the 4th century onwards and Sophocles is reported to have introduced the cult of Asclepius at Athens around 420 B. C. Cf. Emma J. L. Edelstein (1945), 66 and Lloyd (2003), 54.73
7
For example in Hippocrates, Dreams, vol. 4, trans. W. H. S. Jones (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1967), 88.74
7
Lloyd (2003), 57.75
7
Hippocrates, Prognostic, vol. 2, trans. W. H. S. Jones (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992), 1.
26
while some of the Hippocratic physicians used amulets and prayers as in traditional
medicine.76
Attempts at defining medicine as a science that offers rational explanations for
disease and treatment was a clearly delineated development that started with the
school of Hippocrates.77 The school was founded next to the shrine of Aesclepius at
Cos. The main source of information about Hippocratic medicine is a body of about
60 writings in the Ionian language that have been passed down under the name of
Hippocrates, but which are not likely to have been written by one man.78 The writings
nonetheless exhibit a certain unity with respect to both medical practice and the
rational approach to disease and treatment, to the extent that the term “Hippocratic
physician” is warranted.79
With Hippocrates, there was a pronounced attempt to define medicine as a
genuine art (téchne) as opposed to the practices of both the temple healers and the
miscellaneous group of quasi-physicians that included magicians, purifiers or
charlatans. In On the Sacred Disease, it is argued that epilepsy is not due to the
personal intervention of any deity and cannot be cured by purifications, incantations,
and dietary prohibitions.80 Instead, there is a rational explanation to the disease,
76
7
Lloyd (1979), 45.77
7
The tradition knows of seven physicians named Hippocrates. The famous one is the second Hippocrates, who lived from 460 to 379 B. C.78
7
Jouanna (1999), 56.79
7
Jouanna (1999), 71.
80 Hippocrates, On the Sacred Disease, vol. 4, trans. W. H. S. Jones (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1967), 1.
27
namely, that it is hereditary and typically attacks persons of phlegmatic
temperament.81 The disease is no more divine than any other disease and all diseases
are human to the extent that they are curable.82
In several Platonic dialogues, most notably the Gorgias, medicine is called an
example of a genuine art, which refers to the Hippocratic art rather than the
traditional way of practicing medicine. Another reason why Hippocratic medicine is
important for the medical metaphor in Plato’s dialogues is due to its development of a
distinct definition of health, which is referred to in the Symposium, the Timaeus and
the Laws.
2.5 The Hippocratic Doctrine of Health
The Hippocratic doctrine of health assumedly started with Alcmaeon of Croton in
mid-5th century B.C. Alcmaeon stated that equality (he used the political term
isonomía) of powers, such as wetness, dryness, coldness, hotness, bitterness,
sweetness caused health while the domination (monarchía) of one power in the
organism causes disease.83
Several of the Hippocratic writings elaborate on Alcmaeon’s definition of
health. For example, the Hippocratic treatise On Regimen posits that our bodies are
made of two elements, water and fire, which each have two powers, namely, hot and
cold, and dry and moist (3, 4).84 Health depends on the relationships between these
81 Hippocrates, On the Sacred Disease, vol. 4, trans. W. H. S. Jones (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1967), 2.
82 Hippocrates, On the Sacred Disease (1967), 21.
83
8
Alcmaeon, fragment 4 Diels.84
Hippocrates, On Regimen, trans. W. H. S. Jones, vol. 4 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1967).
28
opposing powers. The opposing powers and elements counter each other’s effects
and, when properly proportioned, they will balance each other. When equilibrium
between opposing powers or elements is sustained, constant, and resistant to change,
the body can be said to be truly healthy. This equilibrium can be distorted by excess
of any power or element.85
The doctrine of opposing powers is also presented in Ancient Medicine, which
focuses on their proper mixture.86 According to the author, the component powers of
the body are “salt and bitter, sweet and acid, astringent and insipid, and a vast number
of other things.”87 Each of the component parts has its extreme, which causes harm in
the human body. The extreme of sweet is “the sweetest,” of bitter “the most bitter,”
and so forth.88 Each of the component parts has properties of all sorts, both in number
and in strength.89 Man is in health when the parts are properly mixed. However, when
one part is separated off and is unmixed then it hurts man.90
A similar doctrine is presented by the author of the Hippocratic text On the
Nature of Man.91 The author argues that the components of the body of man are:
85
8
Hippocrates, On Regimen, trans. W. H. S. Jones, vol. 4 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1967).86
8
Hippocrates, Ancient Medicine, trans. W. H. S. Jones, vol. 1 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1972).
87 Hippocrates, Ancient Medicine (1972), 32-34.88
8
Hippocrates, Ancient Medicine (1972), 26-28.
89 Hippocrates, Ancient Medicine (1972), 34-35.
90 Hippocrates, Ancient Medicine (1972), 35-39.
91
9
Hippocrates, On the Nature of Man, trans. W. H. S. Jones, vol. 4 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1967).
29
“blood, phlegm, yellow bile and black bile.”92 Each component has different powers,
such as hotness and coldness, etc. It is through these components that man feels pain
or enjoys health. Man is in perfect health when the elements are duly proportioned
(metríos échei), whereas pain is felt when one of these elements is in defect or excess,
or is isolated in the body without being compounded with all the others.93 If one
power becomes extreme, the body becomes ill or even perishes. To treat a patient
who has fallen ill, the physician needed to know what excesses or deficiency of what
elements caused each disease. In the light of this knowledge he is able to administer
remedies in the right measure and at the right time in order to draw off excess
elements or to supply deficient elements. The right measure depends on the particular
constitution of the patient under particular circumstances. The body must compensate
for these external influences by adjusting its internal composition in such a way as to
maintain its equilibrium, and the physician can aid this process by prescribing a
particular regimen of diet, exercise and, if necessary, medication.
2.6 The Significance of Regimen
In the Laws (720d-e) the legislator is compared to the physician who persuades his
patients before commanding them. This may lead the reader to infer that the subjects
of the law are like patients, i.e. they are sick, and that law is remedial. However, we
learn from the Hippocratic writings that the physician was concerned as much with
healthy people as with invalids.94 The physician promoted health as well as cured the
92 Hippocrates, On the Nature of Man, trans. W. H. S. Jones, vol. 4 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1967), 1-3.
93 Hippocrates, On the Nature of Man (1967), 4-14.94 Werner Jaeger, Paideia: the Ideals of Greek Culture, vol. 3 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986), 30.
30
sick. This branch of promoting health had its own name, tà hugieiná, and it was
mainly concerned with man’s daily routine, including nutrition and exercise habits. In
this branch, the physician inevitably took on an educational task. He was to enlighten
the patient about healthy habits and a healthy regimen (diaítes).
The Hippocratic writing On Regimen defines health as the result of the right
proportion of food to exercise (2).95 Food and exercise have opposing qualities that
nevertheless work together to produce health. It is argued that health will be achieved
with moderate food and exercise, although it is impossible “to lay down rigidly exact
rules in writing” due to the many environmental factors that affect the right
proportion between the two (67). The author offers his personal discovery that one
can make a prognosis about the state of a person’s health on the basis of the balance
or imbalance between food and exercise.
The concern for diet, exercise, and medical intervention plays a prominent
role in Book 3 of Plato’s Republic, which deals with the education of the guardians
(403d-409e). In the Republic, however, the concern with diet and exercise does not lie
within the responsibility of physicians per se. Socrates seems to limit the art of
medicine to curing people rather than maintaining their health. The presence of
doctors, so argues Socrates in the Republic, is evidence of “bad, inferior education”
(405a). “It is a disgrace … to need medical attention, not as a result of injuries or the
onset of some seasonal illness, but because our inactivity, and a routine such as we
have described, have filled us up with gas and ooze, like a marsh” (405d). The
presence of too many physicians in the city is an indication of a lack of virtue among
95
9
Cf. Jouanna (1990), 408.
31
the members of the city, which means that it is also an indication of a lack of training
and good diet. In other words, the physician’s art is expected to be remedial.
Regardless of the profession responsible for diet and exercise, it is important
to note that in the Republic, both diet and exercise are geared towards training the
soul. Socrates recommends that drunkenness is to be avoided and that the diet of the
guardians be moderate so that the guardian can adapt easily to his surroundings and
eat whatever is available (Rep. 404a-b). Food should not include seasonings or
pastries, and female dining companions should not be present (Rep. 404d). This diet
will promote health in the body and, above all, discipline in the soul.
For the same reason of training the soul, Socrates condemns an exaggerated
concern for the body. Anything beyond moderate physical exercise is an impediment
to the practice and study of virtue (407b-c).96 He speaks dismissively about
Herodicus, an athletic coach who became an invalid and who unduly prolonged the
life of his patients and his own by prescribing an elaborate exercise regime.97
According to Socrates, the purpose of medical intervention is not to prolong life
unduly. Medical intervention should be temporary and should facilitate the patient’s
return to performing his appointed function in the city, or life is not worth living if
illness prevents the performance of one’s function (406d-407a).
2.7 The Art of Persuasion
96
9
In this dissertation, translated passages from the Republic are taken from Tom Griffith, Plato. The Republic (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004).97
9
The same Herodicus is mentioned in Plato’s Phaedrus as recommending long walks from Athens to Megara and back, a distance of more than 70 miles (227d).
32
In book 4 of the Laws (720d6-7) the Athenian Stranger compares the lawgiver to the
physician who persuades his patient before treating him. The emphasis on persuasion
and the concomitant need for rhetorical skills gains new significance against the
backdrop of medical practice in the early 4th century B.C. This section takes a closer
look at the factors that combined to make it crucially important for the physician to
excel at persuasion as well as at his medical art.
First of all, the ancient Greek physician did not have any equivalent of the
legally recognized medical qualification required in modern society.98 The patient
would have some guarantee that the physician was competent if he was associated
with one of the centers of medical training, such as Cos or Cnidus, or if he had served
a particular apprenticeship. Also, the Hippocratic Oath served as a moral safeguard
against malevolent amateurs, as it emphasized the binding personal responsibility for
the physician’s commitment.99 Ultimately, however, a physician’s medical practice
could always be called into question and, conversely, an amateur or quack could not
be prevented from practicing.100
As mentioned in On the Sacred Disease, numerous people claimed to be able
to treat diseases and cure patients with a great diversity of means, and some were
more and others less effective. Some treatments were quite severe and, especially in
cases that required surgery, there was a legitimate concern on part of the patient that
98
9
Cf. Cohn-Haft (1956), 17; Lloyd (1979), 39. 99
9
Cf. Heinrich von Staden, Character and Competence. Personal and Professional Conduct in Greek Medicine, Entretiens sur l’Antiquité Classique 43 (Genève: Fondation Hardt, 1977), 173. 100
1
Lloyd (1979), 39.
33
he could be assured of the physician’s competence. After all, anyone was able to set
up a medical practice; “all that was needed was an office and a sign.”101
Compounding the uncertainty about the physician’s competence was the fact
that medical malpractice had no legal repercussions in ancient Greece.102 According
to the Hippocratic author of Law, medicine was an art that had little esteem, because
it was “the only art which our states have made subject to no penalty save that of
dishonour, and dishonour does not wound those who are compacted of it”(1).103
Some have compared the physician to the sophist; both shared a teaching
function and the need to attract clientele.104 However, whereas pupils of the sophists
were mainly from the aristocracy whose members shared the ambition for political
preeminence, the potential clientele of the physician was much wider, not limited to
the wealthy male enfranchised minority but including all men and women as well as
slaves.105 The physician had to persuade an audience that was not necessarily well
educated, a circumstance he shared with the legislator, who had to persuade an entire
city to follow the laws.
Apart from persuading the patient, ancient Greek physicians’ rhetorical skills
were required in two situations: on arrival in a new city and on seeking post as a
public physician. Travel was the natural expectation for the physician in antiquity.106
101
1
Jouanna (1999), 77.102
1
The Athenian Stranger’s recommendation to impose heavy fines on malpractice and the malicious use of drugs (Laws, 909b) is reflective of his desire for regulation and, possibly, illustrative of ancient Egyptian practices, not of those of his hometown. 103
1
Hippocrates, Law, vol. 2, trans. W. H. S. Jones (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992).104
1
Lloyd (1979), 96.105
1
Lloyd (1979), 262; cf. Jouanna (1999), 113-116.106
Cohn-Haft (1956), 21.
34
The physician traveled in order to enrich his experience and understand the nature of
different places and the way it impacted disease.107 Another important reason for
travel was the shortage of physicians in some cities and the need for physicians to
find work. Arrival in a new city presented an important occasion for the physician to
establish his reputation and win over clientele, at times in competition with
established doctors.108
Those who sought a post as public physician also required special skills of
persuasion. The iatròs demosieúon was the physician who had some kind of official
relationship to the city. The function was created mainly to guarantee the presence of
a physician in the city. Moreover, the title of public physician served as the official
public endorsement of a given physician’s qualification to practice.109 In Athens, it is
likely that the Assembly appointed the public physician, which meant that the
physician who desired appointment had to persuade a large, lay audience of his skills
and competence.110 Candidates would speak on their own behalf and present cured
patients and successful case histories as witnesses.111
1
107
1
Jouanna (1999), 27 ff. Hippocrates himself traveled from Cos to Thessaly, where he settled.108
1
In this competition, great value was attached to proper prognosis, in particular as a prediction about whether the disease was fatal or not, “For if he [the physician] discover and declare unaided by the side of his patients the present, the past and the future, and filling the gaps in the account given by the sick, he will be the more believed to understand the cases, so that men will confidently entrust themselves to him for treatment,” Hippocrates (1992), 1.109
1
Cohn-Haft (1956), 37; Jouanna (1999), 77.110
1
Gorgias, in the dialogue named after him, divorces rhetoric from the art of medicine. Gorgias boasts that rhetoric has the competitive advantage and that he could persuade a patient to submit to treatment or the Assembly to hire him as a public physician whereas a physician could not based on his medical skills (456b-c; cf. 452e, 459a-c, 514d ff.). 111
1
Cohn-Haft (1956), 55.
35
2.8 Conclusion
As explained in this chapter, the ancient practice of medicine had certain distinct
features that make the practice different from medical science today. First of all, there
existed a traditional practice of medicine which generally viewed disease as the result
of divine interference in human affairs. One of the characteristic healing methods
associated with traditional medicine was the use of a charm that was recited or sung
in the presence of the patient in order to bring about his cure. Second, this chapter
showed how in the fifth and fourth century the Hippocratic school developed a
rational or scientific art of medicine. Third, the ancient physician was concerned not
just with curing the patient but also with promoting health through the prescription of
good habits and regimen. This part of ancient medicine becomes important when
studying the medical metaphor in the Laws, where the legislator is like the physician
not merely in curing the criminal from disorder in his soul but also in promoting good
habits amongst the members of the city at large. Fourth, in ancient Greece there was
a strong emphasis on the ability of the physician to persuade his patient to undergo
treatment. In the Laws, the Athenian Stranger appeals to this practice in one of the
important medical analogies that compares the lawgiver to the physician. The
discussion of medical imagery in the Laws will begin in chapter 3. First, however, we
turn to medical imagery in Platonic dialogues other than the Laws for the sake of
comparative analysis.
36
CHAPTER 3
MEDICAL IMAGERY IN THE PLATONIC DIALOGUES
3.1 Introduction
Medical images occur in many of Plato’s dialogues. The purpose of this chapter is to
analyze how they are used in the different dialogues in order to compare them with
the medical imagery in the Laws. Once we understand how medical imagery works in
other dialogues, it will be easier to analyze their distinct operation in the Laws.
In the Platonic dialogues, both philosophy and the art of statesmanship are
compared to the medical art, but in different ways. In some dialogues, Socrates
compares himself to a physician. For example, in the Charmides, Socrates poses as a
physician who is able to cure headaches (155d). In the Gorgias, Socrates compares
himself to a physician to indicate the treatment he renders to his patient in helping
him to get rid of false opinions (475d). In the Phaedo, people around Socrates regard
him as a physician because he heals their distress and coaxes them to join in the
examination of the argument (89a). At the same time, Socrates uses the medical
analogy in arguments about rhetoric and statesmanship to indicate the proper relation
between knowledge and its purpose in practical conduct (Gorgias, 517e; Phaedrus,
37
270b ff., Statesman 293a ff.).112 Moreover, Socrates uses the metaphor of physical
health to explain the existence of objective standards of order and excellence of the
soul (Republic, 444e).113 Even though the medical metaphors and analogies share
common denominators across dialogues, they often emphasize different aspects.
Let us turn to the Platonic dialogues. This chapter analyzes medical imagery
in the Charmides, Symposium, Gorgias, Republic, Phaedrus, Protagoras, Sophist,
Statesman, and Timaeus.
3.2 Plato’s Dialogues
3.2.1 The Charmides
The Charmides is a dialogue between Socrates, Charmides and Critias about
moderation (sophrosúne).114 The dialogue takes place at the wrestling school
(palaestra) of Taureas. The place evokes images of physical exercise and health.115 In
the dialogue, Socrates has just returned from military service in the battle at Potidaea.
He is eager to inquire whether there is a young man who has developed exceptional
wisdom or beauty during the time that he was away (153d).116 Critias points out that
112
1
Cf. Jaeger (1986), 3.113
1
Fritz Wehrli, “Der Artzvergleich bei Platon,” Museum Helveticum 8 (1975), 178; and Blai
r Campbell, “Poliatrics: Physicians and the Physician Analogy within Fourth-century Athens,” American Political Science Review 76, no. 4 (1982), 820.114
1
The translation of the Charmides used in this chapter is by Rosamond Kent Sprague in John M. Cooper, Plato. Complete Works (Indianapolis: Hackett 1997). 115
1
The wrestling school makes for a fitting stage given the intellectual gymnastics of the dialogue, cf. Helen North, Sophrosune. Self-Restraint and Self-Knowledge in Greek Literature (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1966), 153.116
1
The battle at Potidaea ended 423 B. C., which provides us with the dramatic date of the dialogue.
38
Charmides, who is just entering the palaestra joined by friends and admirers, has
become well-known for his beauty. Socrates responds by confessing to be “a broken
yardstick” as far as handsome people are concerned because everyone at that age
strikes him as beautiful (154c). Still, Socrates would consider Charmides truly
beautiful if he possesses “one small thing” in addition to good looks (154d). This
small thing is a well-formed soul (154d). Socrates suggests that they “undress this
part of him [Charmides’ soul]” before judging the beauty of his body (154d). In order
to examine Charmides’ soul, they invite him to join the conversation (155a). Critias
duly sends his slave to fetch Charmides and uses the pretext that Socrates is a
physician who can cure headaches, of which Charmides was known to suffer.
Socrates, taking on the role of the physician, tells Charmides about a medicine
(phármakon), which is a leaf that is effective only when accompanied by a certain
charm (155e). Socrates explains that he has learned about the charm from a Thracian
doctor, shaman, and seer of Zalmoxis.117 This doctor had claimed that many diseases
remain uncured because Greek doctors do not pay attention to the whole but only to a
part of the body (156e). A part of the body can be cured only if the whole of the body
is treated. Moreover, the whole of the body can only be treated effectively if the soul
is treated because a healthy soul is the source of a healthy body (156e). Because of
this, so Socrates’ story continues, it is essential to cure the soul before attempting to
make the body healthy. The soul is cured by means of certain charms that consist of
117
1
In Herodotus, Zalmoxis tells the citizens that they and their descendents were going to live forever because he possessed a recipe for escaping death. It is unclear what kind of recipe Zalmoxis promised his followers. Cf. E. R. Dodds, The Greeks and the Irrational (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1959), 144, 165, fn. 60-61.
39
beautiful words and that bring about moderation (157a). Once the soul is moderate
then it will easily keep the body in good condition (157a).
In the course of the dialogue Socrates hopes to charm Charmides into
pursuing philosophy. The elenchus exposes Charmides’ lack of moderation.
According to Socrates, if Charmides is moderate then he must be able to provide a
stable definition of what it is (159a). However, Charmides fails to do so and in
successive attempts to answer Socrates, Charmides defines moderation as quietness,
as modesty (aidós), and as doing one’s own thing (159b; 160e; 161b). Charmides is
devoid of moderation in a rational sense. Still, he possesses moderation in natural
form, in the same way that animals or children possess it.118 Animals and children can
be naturally moderate in their appetites but are unable to explain what moderation is.
Therefore, by Socratic standards, they do not truly possess it.
Socrates wishes to purge Charmides’ soul of false opinions and induce him
towards the path of philosophy. However, the dialogue ends on a sour note. Socrates
expresses vexation about the charm that he took so much trouble to learn from the
Thracian. He wonders whether the charm is perhaps worthless or whether he himself
is a worthless inquirer. Charmides expresses a formal willingness to engage in
philosophy at the end of their conversation (176b). The willingness is formal because
even though Charmides says he is willing to be charmed by Socrates every day, he is
also skeptical about the things he could possibly learn from Socrates. Moreover, he
shows himself obedient to Critias, who demands the use of force (176c). Force is
antithetical to the practice of philosophy. As the reader knows, the historical
118
1
North (1966), 155. Charmides displays a sense of modesty when he blushes at his own ignorance (158c).
40
Charmides never genuinely pursued philosophy or acquired genuine moderation.
Instead he would become one of the Thirty Tyrants in 405 B.C. and would die a year
later during the fighting that overthrew the regime.
Among other things, the Charmides illustrates the voluntary nature of
engagement in philosophy. When Socrates expresses disappointment with the charm
he effectively indicates that philosophy cannot be imposed on a person. Socrates
cannot compel Charmides to live the philosophical life. Instead, philosophy is a
pursuit that people engage in freely and willingly. This willingness ultimately comes
from within, as does genuine virtue. At the end of the Charmides the idea of
voluntary engagement in dialogue is sharply contrasted to the life of force and
domination to be chosen by Charmides under the influence of Critias.
In short, in the Charmides the charm fails to achieve its proposed effect. It
does not help Charmides subdue his earthly desires - such as his desire for power -
and free his soul for the practice of philosophy. The charm works quite differently in
the Laws, as will become clear in the third chapter of this dissertation. In the Laws,
the Athenian Stranger by no means proposes that charms should be used to induce
people towards philosophy. Instead, Socrates suggests that the lawgiver can
successfully charm the members of the city into obedience by prescribing daily
festivals during which the members of the city learn to enjoy the same things. This
unity of sentiment in turn promotes unity and cohesion in the city. The fact that the
charm does work in the Laws indicates that obedience and its objective, namely unity
of the city, is of a very different nature compared to philosophy. Whereas philosophy
is the independent pursuit based on reason (albeit in dialogue with others), life in the
41
city conforms to the habits and expectations of the city and is, therefore, not
independent. Charming the members of the city is much more appropriate compared
to charming the potential philosopher.
The charm, by which the Athenian Stranger means the effect of the music
played at the festivals, helps order the lower part of the soul. On account of the
charm, the people become moderate. However, this kind of moderation is not
achieved through internal control of the lower part of the soul but instead remains
dependent on the person’s participation in the festivals. It is only by luck, so argues
the Athenian Stranger, that a person achieves genuine moderation and virtue as a
whole (653a-b). In short, there is the expectation that most members of the city need
external influence to maintain control over the lower part of their soul.
3.2.2 The Symposium
In the Symposium, Eryximachus is representative of the medical art.119 In the
dialogue, Eryximachus delivers the third speech of praise to the god of love (Eros)
after Phaedrus and Pausanias and before Aristophanes, Socrates, and the latecomer
Alcibiades. Eryximachus is supposed to be fourth but takes the place of Aristophanes
who is temporarily incapacitated by the hiccups. The character of Eryximachus is not
meant to be interpreted metaphorically. Still, by studying him and his role in the
dialogue we do learn more about the role of the physician.
Several interpreters have argued that Plato intended a satire on Eryximachus
as pedantic expert and scientist.120 Others have argued that Plato portrays 119
1
The translation of the Symposium used in this chapter is by Alexander Nehamas and Paul Woodruff in John M. Cooper, Plato. Complete Works (Indianapolis: Hackett 1997).120
U. v. Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Platon I, 3rd ed. (Berlin: Weidmann, 1920), 361, 367; R. G. Bury, The Symposium of Plato (Cambridge, 1909), xxviii.
42
Eryximachus with considerable dignity.121 Eryximachus plays an important role
during the drinking party and acts as one can expect a medical man to act in the 5th
century.122 This becomes apparent from his demeanor and from his speech, which this
section will discuss consecutively.
The Symposium is a dialogue about a drinking party held in honor of the
tragedian Agathon’s first victorious production. Eryximachus figures prominently at
the drinking party. He is responsible for the decision that the gathering is not devoted
to excessive drinking but instead to conversation. The participants agree to drink only
according to pleasure (176d-e). Moreover, Eryximachus suggests that the flute-girl be
sent away so that the entertainment can focus on conversation rather than music
(176e). He suggests that each guest make a speech in honor of Eros (176e-177d),
even though it is Phaedrus who had brought up the topic (177d). Together with
Phaedrus, Eryximachus continues to reside over the banquet. Aristophanes directs his
oration to him (189a, 189c, 193d) and Socrates turns to Eryximachus before and after
Agathon’s talk (194a; 198a-b). Moreover, Eryximachus saves the situation when
Alcibiades threatens to make himself master of ceremonies (214a-c).
Apart from his role as leader of the drinking party, Eryximachus acts as a
physician. Interesting in light of the physician analogy in book 4 of the Laws (720b-d)
is that, as a physician, Eryximachus both persuades and commands those who seek
his advice. The guests at the symposium are deferential to his medical knowledge.
121
1
Ludwig Edelstein, “Eryximachus in Plato’s Symposium,” Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association 76 (1945), 85-103; and Taylor, Plato (1960), 217.122
1
L. Edelstein (1945), 91.
43
Pausanias and Agathon both seek his approval for a night of easy drinking (176a-c)
and Aristophanes turns to him for a cure of the hiccups (185d-e). Eryximachus
responds by giving them advice and they obey voluntarily. He provides Aristophanes
with three possible means of treatment – to hold his breath, to gargle, or to tickle his
nose with a feather to induce sneezing – whereby he instructs Aristophanes how to
take care of his ailment (185e). His authority is displayed by Alcibiades’ response to
Eryximachus’ question about how to proceed after the former’s interruption.
Alcibiades answers: “Whatever you say. Ours to obey you, ‘for a medical mind is
worth a million others.’ Please prescribe what you think fit” (214b).
In terms of the content of his speech, Eryximachus appears sympathetic to the
Hippocratic School of medicine. He develops Pausanias’ argument about the two
loves and applies it to the nature of the body (186b). The loves (appetites) of the body
can be healthy or morbid; the love manifested in health is fundamentally distinct from
the love manifested in disease (186b). It is good to encourage what is sound in the
body and discourage the unsound appetites. The task of the medical expert is to
replace unhealthy appetites with healthy ones; the trait of a good physician is his
ability to distinguish the good from the ugly and disgraceful appetites.
Modifying his theory about the loves of the body, Eryximachus continues by
arguing that there are opposing bodily elements, and that the physician’s task is to
effect a reconciliation between them. The elements that are opposed to one another
are such like hot and cold, bitter and sweet, wet and dry. The theory resonates with
the doctrine of health in the Hippocratic writings. The significance of the speech is
that Eryximachus shows the power of Eros as facilitating harmony between opposites
44
in the entire universe, including the movement of the stars, the seasons of the year,
the bonds between man and the gods, and the bonds within human society as well as
the human body. The underlying thought is that nature is everywhere made up of
opposites that need to be reconciled with one another into a higher harmony. This
higher harmony results in a temperate climate, concord and stability, happiness and
good fortune, health, and so forth.123 The understanding of Eros as something in
between extremes reappears in Socrates’ encomium, communicating what he has
once heard from a wise woman from Mantinea called Diotima (204b). Moreover, the
sequence of arts which he advocates, ascending from the bodily world through music
and astronomy to the realm of the divine foreshadows that given by
Socrates/Diotima.124 Of course, Socrates’ speech transcends Eryximachus’.
In short, the Symposium does not offer a medical metaphor but does offer a
picture of the physician, his habits and his doctrines. Eryximachus is a physician who
persuades and commands those who seek his advice. The same practice recurs in the
Laws, where the free physician is described as persuading and commanding his
patient (720b-d). Moreover, Eryximachus defines the art of the physician as
encouraging healthy appetites of the body and discouraging unhealthy ones. This is
similar to the task of the lawgiver who trains the appetites, not as part of the body but
as part of the soul, by means of law and custom (cf. 659d-e).
3.2.3 The Gorgias
123
1
Leading some to conclude that the speech is a mere “parody of pre-Socratic philosophers,” G. R. F. Ferrari, “Platonic Love,” in Richard Kraut, ed., The Cambridge Companion to Plato (Cambridge University Press, 1995), 251. 124
1
L. Edelstein (1945), 93.
45
The Gorgias is a dialogue about the nature and power of oratory and, ultimately,
about the best way of life.125 The dialogue is written in direct speech and consists of
three consecutive and increasingly contentious exchanges between Socrates and
Gorgias, Polus, and Callicles respectively. Socrates confronts both Gorgias and Polus
with inconsistencies in their arguments. Callicles, however, poses a more formidable
challenge to Socrates, who struggles to undermine Callicles’ views that the selfish,
domineering and pleasure-seeking life is best and that oratory should be admired as a
means to achieve these desires.
In his conversation with Polus, Socrates uses medicine to explain the nature of
a true art or téchne. Oratory, according to Socrates, is merely a knack for producing
gratification and pleasure (462c). He calls it a kind of flattery (463b). Socrates
explains that the principal distinction between a genuine art, such as medicine, and a
knack, such as rhetoric, is that a genuine art aims at the real good of the thing under
its care whereas a knack aims at an apparent good of the thing under its care. For
example, medicine aims at the real good of the patient, whereas the pastry-baker aims
at the apparent good of the consumer by catering to his pleasures without taking into
account his health. By analogy, justice aims at the genuine good of the member of the
city, whereas oratory aims at the apparent good by catering to the desires of the
audience or by flattering it. Medicine is to pastry-baking just as justice is to oratory
(464d-465d).
Socrates proceeds to list four genuine arts with their corresponding kinds of
flattery. The four arts are medicine, gymnastics, justice, and legislation and the four
125
1
Translation is by Donald J. Zeyl in John M. Cooper ed., Plato. Complete Works (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1997).
46
knacks are pastry-baking, cosmetics, oratory, and sophistry. This results in the
following dichotomies:
Caring of souls Caring of bodies
Genuine art Legislative Justice Gymnastics Medicine
Spurious art Sophistry Oratory Cosmetics Pastry-baking
Medicine is mirrored by pastry baking, which pretends to know the foods that are best
for the body but instead caters solely to its gratification. Cosmetics mirrors
gymnastics by pretending to know what makes the body beautiful, but in fact is only
directed towards the appearance of beauty by providing colors and dress. Oratory
mirrors justice in the same way as pastry-baking mirrors medicine and cosmetics
mirrors gymnastics. The orator aims at pleasing a crowd that demands what is
pleasurable without taking into account what is good. Sophistry mirrors the legislative
art. None of the knacks is based on knowledge of what is good for the thing or person
under its care.
The condemnation of oratory is severe. However, near the end of Socrates’
conversation with Callicles, Socrates distinguishes genuine oratory from the flattering
kind (517a5). Genuine oratory redirects the city’s appetites instead of giving in to
them, and uses persuasion or constraint to get the people to become better (517b).
Socrates argues that oratory has two parts; one part relating to the body and the other
to the soul (517c). The first part is subordinate to the second, in the same way as the
body is subordinate to the soul. Over and above all the practices that pretend to care
47
for the body stands the craft of gymnastics and medicine that really does care for the
body and that rules over the other practices on account of its knowledge of what is
good or bad for bodily excellence (517e). The former practices lack this kind of
knowledge (518a). Lacking this kind of knowledge, the practitioners of, for example,
pastry-baking are servants rather than rulers (518c). They cater to the appetites of
people rather than ruling over them on account of knowledge of what is good or bad
for them.
The above analogies are significant for the medical analogy in Book 4 of the
Laws (720a-d). First of all, one should note that there is a difference between the
medical analogies in the Gorgias and the Laws. In the Gorgias, medicine is compared
to the remedial art of justice and gymnastics is compared to legislation. In the Laws,
medicine rather than gymnastics is compared to the legislative art. The difference is
explained by the emphasis in the Laws on the need for persuasion. As we saw in
chapter one, there were many conditions in ancient Greece that made it especially
important for the Greek physician – rather than the trainer – to possess strong
persuasive skills. It is therefore not surprising that the Athenian Stranger chooses the
physician rather than the trainer to draw the analogy.
Another reason why the medical analogy in the Gorgias is significant is
because of the distinction between master arts and serving arts. The first is based on
knowledge whereas the second caters to appetites (517e-518c). In Book 4 of the
Laws, the Athenian Stranger makes a distinction between the physician who treats
slaves and the physician who treats free patients. The physician who treats slaves is
often a slave himself and is described as a servant to the free physician. The slave
48
physician has no knowledge but merely follows his masters’ command and acts on
experience rather than knowledge. He commands his patients without persuading
them. In other words, both the Gorgias and the Laws indicate that there is something
servile about practicing an art that does not require knowledge and hence is not really
an art at all. In the Gorgias, the knack of pastry-baking follows the taste of the
consumer; in the Laws, the slave doctor follows his master’s orders and experience.
Both of these arts are slavish.
In the Gorgias, Socrates draws an analogy between the health of the body and
the virtue of the soul. In his conversation with Polus, he compares the art of
dispensing justice or “paying what is due” to surgery (476c-d). The body undergoes
improvement when something bad is cut out of it. In the same way, the soul
undergoes improvement if it is justly disciplined (477a). Moreover, this art is like
philosophy, which purges the soul of bad opinions.126 Like the body, the soul can be
in a bad condition when it is filled with injustice, ignorance, and cowardice (477b).
The craft that gets rid of disease is medicine; the craft that gets rid of injustice is
forensic oratory. Whatever Socrates means by health is specified in his conversation
with Callicles. Health is described by Socrates as the orderly organization of the
body. Socrates compares it to virtue, which is the orderly organization of the soul
(504a-d). An orderly soul is just and moderate, and it is the job of a skilled orator to
bring about justice and moderation in the souls of his fellow polítai (504d-504e).
The comparison between virtue and health occurs in the Republic and, as we
will see below, occasionally in the Laws as well.
126
1
Socrates asks Polus to submit himself to his questioning as he would to a doctor (475d).
49
3.2.4 The Republic
In the Republic, as in the Gorgias, Socrates describes health of the body as a natural
ordering of its different components.127 In a healthy body, the components are in a
natural relation to one another (444d). Producing health, then, has to do with
“arranging the elements in the body so that they control one another – and are
controlled – in the way nature intends” (444d). Disease is brought about when the
elements in the body are ruling and being ruled in a way that nature does not intend
(444d).
In the Republic, Socrates uses health to explain virtue. Like the body, the soul
is made up of elements that stand in a natural relation with one another. Justice is
produced when these elements are arranged according to nature, whereas injustice
results when these elements stand in an unnatural relationship with one another.
Socrates has just explained that the parts of the soul are threefold: the reasoning part,
the spirited part, and the part that harbors appetites, fears and desires (436a-b). He
also explained that it is appropriate for the rational part to rule, supported by the
spirited part, over the desiring part (441e-442a). As order of the soul, virtue is a kind
of health, beauty, and well-being of the soul (444e). Virtue allows the soul to perform
its function well (cf. 353c) just as health allows the body to perform its function well.
Significant about Socrates’ understanding of health is that it depends on the
internal constitution of the body rather than the presence or absence of outside
influences. For example, a body is deemed sick not when it has a tumor but when its
127
1
The translation used is by Tom Griffith (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004).
50
constitution is disorderly enough to allow a tumor to grow. In other words, disease is
generated from the inside. According to Socrates, everything has its own
characteristic evil and disease (609a). Eyes can develop inflammation, corn can
develop blight, wood can develop rot, and bronze or iron can develop rust. In the
same way, the body can develop disease. In the end, the evil or disease destroys each
thing. “The defect of the body – which is disease – wastes it away, corrupts it, and
brings it to the point of not being a body at all” (609c). If the body is not destroyed by
its own defect, then it is not destroyed by anything else (609b). Food can be rotten,
drink can be polluted and exertion can be excessive but actual illness occurs only
when the body itself is defective and unable to cope with adverse circumstances:
If the specific defect of food imparts bodily decay to the body, we shall say the body has been destroyed by its own evil, which is disease, arising out of those things. But we shall never accept that the body, which is one thing, can be destroyed by the defect of food, which is a quite different thing. It cannot be destroyed by an external evil, unless that in turn implants the body’s own characteristic evil (609e).
In like manner, the soul has its characteristic evil, which consists of disorder and
results in injustice, lack of discipline, cowardice, and ignorance (609c). These
disorders prevent the soul from functioning well (cf. 353c).
In the Republic, Socrates compares virtue with health in order to explain what
virtue is and, ultimately, to explain its desirability. In the Laws, the comparison
between health and virtue is not prominent. At several times in the dialogue the
Athenian Stranger mentions health as a good for human beings, not in order to
compare it to virtue but rather to rank it as secondary to the virtue of the soul (631b;
661a-c; cf. 744a). Health is not considered to be good unequivocally. Instead, a
person is more moderate if he is in a condition between health and disease (728e).
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There is a brief comparison between virtue and health in Book 5, where the Athenian
Stranger speaks of purging the souls ruined by nature and corrupt upbringing before
founding the colony just as a breeder will purge animals because they will “ruin the
stock that has healthy and undefiled habits and bodies” (735c). Overall, however,
health is mentioned not as a metaphor but as a good, and the question is rather how it
is achieved or restored (789d; 796a; 789a; 808c).
The one exception occurs during the discussion of the Nocturnal Council in
Book XII. Here, the Athenian Stranger explains that the medical art aims at the goal
of health for the body. In order to promote this goal, the physician has to know health;
he cannot be ignorant of it (962a). Likewise, a statesman who is ignorant of the goal
of the city cannot be justly called a ruler (962a). Magnesia, the city that the Athenian
Stranger is founding in speech, must have something in it that knows the goal of the
city; it must have an institution that is the head and soul of the city, so to speak (cf.
961d). The Athenian Stranger proposes that this institution is the Nocturnal Council,
the members of which should know virtue so that they can make sure that every law
aims at virtue (963a). The Athenian Stranger proceeds in an attempt to teach Kleinias
how virtue is both many and one (963a-964b). However, the attempt is soon
abandoned, and the comparison between virtue and health is not pursued further.
Instead, the Athenian Stranger indicates that it is necessary to “proceed to some more
precise education than before” but does not articulate what this more precise
education consists of (959a-b).
We can infer that the statesman or lawgiver requires knowledge of virtue, just
as the physician requires knowledge of health. The Athenian Stranger, however, does
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not elaborate on how this knowledge is achieved and what it consists of, nor does he
use the health metaphor to explain the nature of virtue.
3.2.5 The Phaedrus
In the penultimate part of the Phaedrus, Socrates uses the art of medicine to explain
that a genuine art implies knowledge of the nature of its object.128 For medicine, the
object is the body; for rhetoric it is the soul. In order to understand the body, the
physician has to “take apart” the nature of the body; in order to understand the soul,
the rhetorician has to take apart the nature of the soul, and for both it is necessary to
understand the nature of the whole (270b-c).129 To know the soul and to be able to
describe it with absolute precision, the rhetorician must determine whether the soul is
single or complex. If it is simple, he must investigate its power, and investigate by
what things it has a natural disposition to be acted upon. If it is complex, all forms
must be enumerated and one must investigate the power of each and the natural
disposition to be acted upon by what (270d). Moreover, the art of speaking requires
“the ability to enumerate the sorts of characters to be found in any audience, to divide
everything according to its kinds, and to grasp each single thing firmly by means of
one form” (273e). Without this knowledge, medicine and rhetoric are mere “empirical
and artless practice[s]” (270b).
128
1
The translation used is by Alexander Nehamas and Paul Woodruff in John M. Cooper ed., Plato. Complete Works (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1997).129
1
The reference is to dialectics: “the reason they cannot define rhetoric is that they are ignorant of dialectic” (269b6). Socrates had earlier expressed himself to be “a lover of divisions and collections” (266b3-4).
53
Achieving the knowledge that is prerequisite for practicing rhetoric as art is a
laborious process, as Socrates admits (273e). No sensible man will make this effort to
speak to his “fellow slaves” or human beings but only to speak in a way that pleases
the gods (275e). The genuine art of rhetoric, in other words, results in a very
unconventional rhetorician. He is someone who does not cater to the people but who
seeks approval from the gods. We are reminded of the distinction in the Gorgias
between master arts, based on knowledge, and the serving arts, which cater to
appetites (517e-518c).
This is not to say that the real rhetorician does not speak to his fellow human
beings. It is the nature of speech to direct the soul (261a; 271d). Socrates argues that
just as the art of medicine provides the body with the medicines and diet that make it
healthy and strong, genuine rhetoric provides the soul with the reasons and customary
practices that will transmit to it the conviction and excellence you want (270b). The
power (dúnamis) of rhetoric is that it can produce healthy convictions in the souls of
its audience by arguments just like the physician produces healthy conditions in the
body by his prescriptions.130 Rhetoric produces conviction, not knowledge, which
clearly limits its power and sets it apart from philosophy.
In the medical analogy in Book 4 of the Laws, the free doctor, unlike the slave
doctor, cares for his patients by following nature (720d). The free doctor cares for
free men by investigating their illnesses “from their beginning and according to
nature” (720d). He communes with his patient to understand the disease and teaches
the one who is sick. The emphasis in the analogy, however, is on the need for
130
1
Cf. Taylor (1960), 315.
54
persuading the patient before imposing treatment on him. The patient needs to be
“tamed” by argument before being led back to health (720d). The analogy presents
the problem of consent and obedience in a relationship where there is a difference in
expertise and where the incentives for modifying behavior (on the part of the patient)
are not immediately clear.
3.2.6 Sophistry
In the Protagoras, Socrates cautions the young Hippocrates to submit his soul to the
education offered by Protagoras. Protagoras is a sophist whom Hippocrates expects to
offer the education suitable for a gentleman or, as Socrates puts it, the education that
will teach him virtue (320b). Socrates doubts whether excellence or virtue can be
taught. What is at stake is whether Hippocrates’ soul becomes more useful or useless
(313a8). He should carefully consider to whom to entrust his soul, just as he would
carefully consider to what person he would entrust his body. Socrates fears that
Protagoras might be the kind of sophist who sells teachings for the soul like a
salesman sells food for the body. The salesman’s objective is profit rather than the
health of the consumer, and he will sell without considering what is best for the
buyer. One has to be a consumer that knows which teachings will do benefit or harm
to one’s soul (313e-314b).
In the Sophist, the Eleatic Stranger singles out noble sophistry (231b). This
type of sophistry involves the refutation of empty belief in one’s own wisdom. The
process is described as a kind of cleansing of the soul. Just like the body is cleansed
by gymnastics, medicine and by bathing, so for the soul there is a method to ‘cleanse’
55
it, either from wickedness or from ignorance. The noble sophistry is a kind of
gymnastics, which trains the soul to prevent it from thinking that it knows something
when it actually does not know it (229c5).
3.2.7 The Timaeus
In the last part of Timaeus’ long speech about the creation of the world there is a
classification of the diseases of body and soul and provisions for their treatment.131
Timaeus relies on a theory of four qualities. There are four materials out of which the
body is constructed: earth, fire, water and air. Some substances may increase at the
expense of others, causing conflicts and diseases (82a). Health is defined as the
proper proportion between the different parts (82b). Diseases occur when the proper
proportion is distorted, when flesh or the basic tissue wastes away, or when air or
fluids are obstructed.
The diseases of the body obviously have material causes, but – according to
Timaeus - so do the diseases of the soul. The experience of great pain or excessive
pleasure can make the soul diseased and witless. The prime cause of excessive
pleasure is “sexual overindulgence” (86d).132 People qualify the disease of the soul as
willfully evil, but Timaeus stresses that the responsibility for evil lies in the corrupt
condition of the body and an uneducated upbringing (86e), which he calls causes
beyond our control (87b). Phlegms or humors cause disturbances in the motion of the
131
1
The translation used is by Donald J. Zeyl in John M. Cooper ed., Plato. Complete Works (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1997).132
1
In the case of men, cf. 91a-b.
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soul, producing bad temper and melancholy, recklessness and cowardice,
forgetfulness and stupidity (87a).
Being well proportioned includes a certain proportion between body and soul.
An overexcited soul can wear the body out (88a). A body that is too strong and large
will disproportionately impose its physical desires on the divine desires of the soul for
wisdom (88b). Both body and soul need to be exercised. Physical exercise can purify
and restore the body by bringing it in motion (89a). So can the rocking motion of
travel. Medical purging is also described as a kind of motion, which should be used
only in the last resort. The soul likewise needs to be exercised. This part needs to be
directed towards learning the harmonies and revolution of the universe (90d).
Timaeus argues that there is a kind of psychosomatic unity by saying that
physical motion can bring about order and regularity to the different parts of the soul,
and vice versa, irregularity of movement brings about disturbances in the soul. In the
Laws, the Athenian Stranger assumes a similar psychosomatic unity, which is most
evident in his theory about pre-natal and natal education. He argues that all bodies
benefit from motion. Restless children should be brought to calm by motion rather
than stillness (790d). A rocking motion of the body can bring calm to the passions of
the soul, overpowering fear and madness (791a). Likewise the music and dance in
Book 2 shapes the passions of the soul. Music provides education of the lower part of
the soul, shaping its pleasures and pain (653a). This is a more naturalistic explanation
compared to the argument that music “charms” people.
The explanation for order and disease of the soul in the Timaeus is not a
metaphor. Nor are the arguments in the Laws about rocking babies and moving to
57
music at festivals metaphors. Still, it is important to note the attention paid to the
interaction between the body and soul, which occurs because the emphasis in the
Laws is largely on the education of the lower part of the soul – that part which is most
closely connected to the body. This emphasis makes metaphors from gymnastics and
medicine all the more appropriate.
3.2.8 The Statesman
In the Statesman, the Eleatic Stranger compares the statesman to the physician who
treats his patients based on his expertise, regardless of whether the patients consented
to be treated (293a-b).133 Likewise, so states the Eleatic Stranger, good statesmen
preserve what is just based on expert knowledge, whether they rule with or without
laws and over willing or unwilling subjects (293c). The statesman rules with his
wisdom. However, once they are in charge of a large group of people rules or laws
are necessary (294d). Rules or laws are less perfect because they cannot “embrace
what is best and most just for all at the same time” (294b). Instead, rules will be made
that are roughly appropriate to the majority of cases and people (294e).
The Athenian Stranger explains that when the physician or the gymnastic
trainer goes out of town, he will leave written prescriptions for his patients. Upon
returning, the physician or trainer may see the situation changed and, based on his
expertise, should be able to amend the prescriptions. However, the majority of people
argue in such a case that the physician or trainer can only change the rules if he
persuades his patient to accept them (295c-296a). The Athenian Stranger makes clear,
133
1
The translation used is by Christopher Rowe in John M. Cooper ed., Plato. Complete Works (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1997).
58
however, that people are not necessarily correct. Instead, someone who has the
correct grasp of the relevant expertise can legitimately force another to do what is
better, even against what has been written down (296b). Likewise, the statesman
should be able to override the law with his expertise (297a).
There is an important difference between the medical analogy in the
Statesman and the medical analogy in Book 4 of the Laws. Whereas in the Statesman
the physician can treat a patient with or without his consent, in the Laws the Athenian
Stranger urges potential legislators to learn how to persuade citizens to obey the laws
(720a-d). A legislator who fails to do so is essentially slavish and treats his patients in
a slavish manner. The point of each analogy is different. In the Statesman, the Eleatic
Stranger uses the analogy to demonstrate that expertise has the advantage over written
law and ancient custom. The statesman, in the Statesman, returns and can change the
law on account of his expertise. In the Laws, the Athenian Stranger uses the analogy
to illustrate the argument that the law should have preambles that persuade the
member of the city to obey. Still, the law prescribes punishment in case the preamble
to the law fails to persuade. This punishment, or force, is legitimate. This is unlike
what the Young Socrates suggests in the Statesman, where he argues that the
statesman can only introduce change if he persuades the city (296a), but like the
Eleatic Stranger, who responds that force is legitimate. In other words, the difference
between the Statesman and the Laws is one of emphasis; the Athenian Stranger
stresses the need for persuasion, whereas the Eleatic Stranger focuses on the
superiority of expertise over law and custom.
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3.3 Conclusion
The comparative analysis of the medical metaphors and analogies in the Platonic
dialogues shows that philosophy is compared to medicine in a way that is distinct
from the comparison between statesmanship and medicine. When Socrates compares
himself to a physician in the Gorgias, he suggests that his art is like surgery in that it
purges the soul of incorrect opinions (475d). The purging occurs through the
elenchus, in which the opinions of the interlocutors are tested and found wanting. In
exposing the lack of stable opinions, Socrates aims to encourage the interlocutor on
the path to philosophy.
However, there exists a different relationship between the statesman or
lawgiver and the member of the city. First of all, the statesman rules over a group,
which means that the opportunity for philosophical dialogue is lacking.134 Secondly,
the statesman rules with knowledge or correct opinion over others who lack
knowledge or correct opinion. There is, in the Laws, a continuing assumption that
most people are incapable of living prudent lives (653a). Therefore, they are subject
to the influence of law and custom so that they live orderly lives. People internalize
these rules when they become habituated to live in the city, yet to the extent that order
is imposed from the outside they remain in constant need of being charmed or
persuaded into obedience. By contrast, the philosopher does not exercise any rule, nor
does he educate by instilling correct opinions in the minds of others. Philosophy “is
134
1
Still, it seems to be a matter of degree whether or not the statesman is able to engage in a dialogue with the members of the city. The Athenian Stranger indicates that the “doctoring” of the lawgiver comes close to philosophizing (Laws, 857d). There are, however, genuine limitations to a conversation with a group.
60
not a kind of medicine tending the patient on his sickbed and putting him under the
spell of sound and salutary tales.”135
This explains why, for example, the charm used by the philosopher fails in the
Charmides but, as we will see, is successful when used by the lawgiver in the Laws.
People are not simply seduced into philosophy. Instead, their engagement with
philosophy requires a turning of the entire soul, including the rational part. People
can, however, be charmed into obedience. Obedience does not necessarily require
conscious and rational assent, and often obedience is necessary exactly because
reason is not fully developed, for example in children. But obedience does require a
certain habituation of the fears and expectations of people.136
The difference between philosophy and statesmanship also explains why the
medical imagery in the Gorgias and the Phaedrus, with their emphasis on persuasion,
is more easily compared to the medical imagery in the Laws. The same goes for the
Statesman, although the emphasis here is on the legitimate use of force based on the
expertise of the ruler rather than the need for persuasion based on the need for willing
consent to the law.
We now turn to the first medical image in the Laws, namely, the metaphor that
compares wine to a drug that tests and educates the soul of the drinker.
135
1
L. Edelstein (1945), 100.
136 Chapter 3 and 5 of this dissertation explain how people are charmed into obedience in Laws.
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CHAPTER 4
WINE AS A PLEASURE DRUG
4.1 Introduction
The first medical metaphor that the reader encounters in the Laws is that of wine as a
drug that trains and tests the soul of the drinker. This testing and training takes place
during drinking parties (sympósia) (648b1; cf. 649d9, 650a3, 650b4). It may seem
surprising to find a long discourse about drinking parties at the beginning of a
dialogue about law and lawgiving. Indeed, several scholars consider the discussion of
drinking parties to be a tedious digression in the Laws. Moreover, most scholars tend
to marginalize the Athenian Stranger’s suggestion of drinking parties as a test of
dispositions. In what follows, I hope to demonstrate that the drinking party is of
significant value to the lawgiver, who needs to understand and train the nature and
habits of the people he legislates for. The medical metaphor of wine as a drug helps
explain the testing and training that takes place during the symposia.137
This chapter starts out with a discussion of the scholarly literature on Book 1
of the Laws. Next, the chapter offers a short historical background of the symposium.
The symposium was one of the major defining elements of Athenian social life and
appreciating the historical context helps us understand how the drinking party could
have played such an important role in the Athenian Stranger’s inquiry into law. Next,
137 The practice of testing the soul by means of philosophical discourse is discussed in Appendix A.
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the chapter discusses how the Athenian Stranger adopts the symposium for the
practice of the lawgiver. The Athenian Stranger considers wine like a drug that
promotes self-mastery. Moreover, the Athenian Stranger relies on the idea,
recognized throughout antiquity that the drinking of wine exposes the character of the
drinker.
4.2 The Scholarly Literature
In the beginning of the Laws, after a brief discussion about whether a god or some
human being founded the Dorian laws, the Athenian Stranger critiques their customs
of common meals and gymnastic training. These customs are meant to train the
members of the city in courage but harm as well as benefit the city (626b-626c). They
promote revolutionary movements and invite sexual practices that are “against
nature,” by which the Athenian Stranger refers to the Cretans’ reputation for
pederasty (636b-d). The Dorians fail to train themselves in resisting pleasure.
Megillus proudly retorts that the Spartan lawgiver has ordered the avoidance of
pleasures by prohibiting drinking parties:
[Spartan] law proscribed from the entire country that practice which leads humans to fall into the greatest pleasures and the greatest sorts of insolence and total mindlessness. Never would you see in fields or towns under Spartan supervision any drinking parties or any of the stuff that goes with them, which has such power to incite men to every sort of pleasure (637a-b).
From here on, drinking parties and the consumption of wine frame the discussion in
Book I and Book II of the Laws (637a-650b; 652a- 674c).
What are we to make of the elaborate discussion of drinking parties in a
dialogue about law? In the nineteenth century, when the scholarly debate about the
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Laws was largely dominated by the transmission of the work by Phillip of Opus, one
scholar argued that the talk about wine and music was reason enough to reject the
authenticity of the first two books of the Laws.138 Bruns’ view is no longer current,
but there remain doubts about the purpose of the discussion of drinking parties in the
Laws. Paul Friedländer finds the Athenian Stranger’s proposal to employ wine
drinking as a means of education “puzzling.”139 He argues that the “strange topic of
drinking” makes sense only when the discussion of drinking parties evolves into a
discussion of education as a whole; the Dorian cities offer one-sided education that
needs to be supplemented by Athenian institutions.140 W. K. C. Guthrie likewise
focuses on the educational objective of the drinking parties. The educational object
should be “to produce men like Socrates, who can expose themselves to the risks of
drink and other temptations without losing self-command.”141 The symposium is
considered as a tiresome illustration for this educational principle. Indeed, Guthrie
expresses hope at the end of the chapter that the reader will not be “discouraged at the
outset, as for a long time I [Guthrie] was myself, by the obstacle which Plato himself
has put in our way: the lengthy and humourless disquisitions in the first two books on
the moral and educational advantages of drinking parties.”142 More recently, R. F.
138
1
Bruns (1880), in Tecusan (1990), 246.139
1
Paul Friedländer, Plato, vol. 3, trans. Hans Meyerhoff (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969), 397.140
1
Friedländer (1969), 398.141
1
W. K. C. Guthrie, A History of Greek Philosophy, vol. 5 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 1978), 326.142
1
Guthrie (1978), 382.
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Stalley concurs and argues that many readers have found the section about drinking
parties “tedious.” He goes as far as to say that “Plato, himself, apologizes for it.”143
When we look at the text, however, we find that the Athenian Stranger
considers drinking parties to be a topic worthy of elaboration. The Athenian Stranger
apologizes for the fact that the topic of drinking parties leads to discussions about
education, music, and human nature. However, he argues that the topic of drinking
wine invites long speeches: “With this distinction [between vice and virtue]
sharpened [by the image of the divine puppet], education and other practices will
perhaps be clarified, and the practice of spending time drinking together, which might
be considered too trivial to be worth so many words, may well appear not unworthy
of such lengthy speech” (645c). In other words, the Athenian Stranger indicates that
the topic of drinking parties is an important one.
Thomas Pangle is among those scholars who argue that the discussion of
drinking wine was an important one.144 Pangle interprets the dialogue in terms of its
dramatic action.145 According to Pangle, the discussion of drunkenness creates a mood
of friendship and engagement between the Athenian Stranger and his interlocutors:
“The lengthy private discussion of the forbidden pleasure of drunkenness and
drinking parties has something like the effect of a lengthy private discussion of
forbidden sexual pleasures – the imagination is awakened, the memory and passions
are aroused.”146 This mood makes it easier for Kleinias and Megillus to accept
143
1
R. F. Stalley, An Introduction to Plato’s Laws (Oxford: Blackwell, 1983), 5.144
1
Thomas L. Pangle, “Interpretative Essay,” in The Laws of Plato. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980), 395-404.145
1
Pangle (1980), 376.146
Pangle (1980), 403-4.
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criticism about their laws and suggestions for change. Rhetorically, according to
Pangle, the Athenian Stranger does not just intrigue his interlocutors, he also
provokes Megillus’ attack on Athens, by which he himself becomes forced to defend
his fatherland.147 As a good patriot, the Athenian Stranger’s interlocutors become
more favorably disposed to him. This provides legitimacy for the Athenian Stranger’s
project of merging Dorian and Athenian custom.148
Pangle’s argument helps explain the long discussion about drinking parties at
the beginning of the Laws. On the dramatic level, the discussion about wine helps
loosen up the elderly Kleinias and Megillus and makes them more willing to accept
changes in law and custom. In this sense, the discussion about drinking is “like
medicine” for the two old men.149 Pangle suggests that the Athenian Stranger has used
the discussion of drinking as “a vehicle for introducing the themes he wants to discuss
and the mood he wants to discuss them in.”150 It also helps explain why the
symposium does not occur as an actual institution in Magnesia.151 Based on Pangle’s
argument, the main point deduced from the lengthy discussion about symposia is that
it is difficult for elderly potential statesman to accept change in law and custom; they
147
1
Pangle (1980), 395.148
1
Pangle (1980), 396; Cf. Strauss (1975), 13; Clark (2003), 109.149
1
Pangle (1980), 404.150
1
Pangle (1980), 403.151
1
Cf. Tecusan (1990), 246. The practice of common meals is explicitly included and compulsory for the magistrates in the life of Magnesia (Laws, 762c-d). These common meals are opened to women, an “extravagant proposal” without precedent in ancient Greece (Laws 780 e-781d; 806e; 839c-d); Cf. David, E. “The Spartan Syssitia and Plato’s Laws,” American Journal of Philology 99, no. 4 (1978): 487.
66
have to be intoxicated first, as it were. This connects well to the Athenian Stranger’s
remark that wine acts like a drug that “heals the austerity of old age” (666b).
Pangle offers a helpful analysis of the action of the dialogue. However, his
interpretation does remove the reader from the content of the Athenian Stranger’s
arguments. These arguments help the reader think about the testing and training of
dispositions. Among those who analyze these arguments in their own right, very few
pay attention to the testing aspect of this practice. Albert Whitaker, for example,
argues that the drinking of wine makes the symposiast loose his sense of shame. The
drinking party official “will get you drunk: then he will watch. He will watch to see
whether and how far you become ‘filled with freedom and fearlessness.’”152 The
drinking party is a “public and publicly supervised test of shame … to see what your
friends and neighbors are made of.”153 According to Whitaker, this practice is
appropriate to the business of politics defined as care of the soul. Other scholars are
dismissive of the testing purpose of the drinking party. Baehong Lee mentions briefly
that “Der Wein wird also Prüfstein für die Selbstbeherrschung und somit als
Erziehungsmittel eingesetzt.”154 Lee does not elaborate on the idea of wine as a
touchstone for self-mastery. Christopher Bobonich recognizes the drinking party as a
place that fosters mutual caring among the citizens but does not discuss the testing
purpose of the drinking party.155
152
1
Albert K. Whitaker, A Journey into Platonic Politics (Lanham: University Press of America, 2004), 32.153
1
Whitaker (2004), 32.154
1
“Wine is introduced as a touchstone for self-mastery and hence as a means of education” [translation ECDL], B. Lee, Die Politische Philosophie in Platons Nomoi (Frankfurt: Lang, 2002), 50.155
1
Bobonich (2002), 426-430.
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There is one more argument that should be taken into account before turning
to a discussion of the symposia. According to Elizabeth Belfiore, the discussion of the
drinking party as a testing and training device conflicts with, and is overwritten by,
the discussion of drinking parties in the second book of the Laws.156 The problem is as
follows. In Book II, when the Athenian Stranger reviews the different choruses, he
stipulates that wine cannot be given to children under eighteen and can only be drunk
with moderation by people between eighteen and thirty. Only when a man approaches
forty may he share the full benefits of wine (666a-666c). Therefore, drunkenness
cannot serve the purpose of training and testing young people’s dispositions.
According to Belfiore, the benefits of drunkenness are exclusively intended for
middle-aged and older people.
In Book I, however, the Athenian Stranger provides the reader with very little
detailed information about the symposiasts.157 When discussing the appropriate
conditions under which wine should be drunk the Athenian Stranger mentions the
mixing of wine and the characteristics of the symposiarch, but not the age of the
participants. The absence of details may well indicate that the Athenian Stranger does
not actually propose to institute symposia but rather uses the institution to discuss
principles of testing and education.158 Moreover, according to the Athenian Stranger,
156
1
Elizabeth Belfiore, “Wine and Catharsis of the Emotions in Plato’s Laws,” Classical Quarterly 36, no. 2 (1986), 425.157
1
Cf. Pangle (1980) who finds that “On the whole, the administrative details of the education and testing through drunkenness remain extraordinarily nebulous,” 403. See also Tecusan (1990): 247-251, who more than once remarks on the lack of details in the Athenian’s speech. Historically, symposia were open to male citizens without discrimination based on age. Young as well as mature men were present. Youths were expected to attend as the companion and beloved of an adult with whom he was involved in a pederastic relationship.158
1
The symposium does not play a role in the discussion of Magnesia’s institutions.
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spending time drinking together accrues great benefits both to private individuals and
to the city because it is a great contribution to education (641b-d). The consumption
of wine together in groups, when properly managed, promotes goodwill, friendship
and self-discipline. It would be surprising if the Athenian Stranger limits these benefit
to people who approach forty years and older.159
4.3 The Symposium in Ancient Athens
The drinking party or symposium was one of the major defining elements of Athenian
social life.160 It developed as an institution among groups of aristocratic companions
(hetaîroi) toward the end of the seventh century B.C. or earlier. Over time, however,
the symposium developed into a more democratic institution and banquets were
offered by the city to all citizens. To participate in a symposium was the characteristic
activity of free adult males; respectable women did not attend the male symposium.
The symposium took place in the men’s room (andrón). One of the central features of
the symposium was the practice of reclining on couches and the andrón was often
designed for a system of couches arranged around the walls, with the door off center.
The public rooms in town halls and sanctuaries imitated this pattern and often had an
eleven-couch arrangement.161
159
1
Maurice Vanhoutte, makes a similar argument in La Philosophie Politique de Platon dans les “Lois” (Louvain: Publications Universitaires de Louvain, 1954), 26.160
1
The following discussion is largely based on Nicholas R. E. Fisher, “Greek Associations, Symposia, and Clubs,” in eds. Michael Grant and R. Kitzinger, vol. 2, Civilization of the Ancient Mediterranean. (New York: Charles Schribner’s Sons, 1988), 1170-1185.161
1
Fisher (1988), 1172-3.
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The etymology of the word sum-pósion (sum-píno) is drinking together.
During the symposium, the eating is disposed of quickly. Thereafter the tables are
cleared, the floor, cups and guests are washed, and the all-important mixing of wine
in a large bowl (kratér) takes place. The Greeks preferred to drink their wine heavily
diluted, usually two cups of water to one cup of wine. At the start of the symposium
the participants would make a decision on the measure of mixing, normally a
collective decision binding on the entire company. The mixture could – with the
compulsory toasts – be sure to lead to drunkenness or involved measures for more
moderate drinking.162
As was known in the ancient Greek world, wine has a variety of contradictory
effects.163 The ancient Greek physician Mnésithee thought that wine half diluted
produced folly while wine drunk pure produced paralysis.164 In this sense, wine acts
like a medicine; its useful qualities depend on the measure by which it is distributed.
The physician emphasized the idea that one needs to understand the right mixture of
wine and water for each patient, and the opportune moment to administer wine.165
A set of deities would preside over the communal drinking. Usually a libation
of pure wine is poured to the good spirit at the start of the symposium, and then to
Zeus Olympios, the heroes and Zeus Savior. A paean is sung to Apollo. The Graces
(Charites) would preside over the time of enjoyment that would follow. There were
162
1
Cf. Plato’s Symposium (176a-e).163
1
Janine Bertier, Mnésithée et Dieuchès (Leiden, E. J. Brill, 1972), 60.164
1
Bertier (1972), 71.165
1
Bertier (1972), 62; cf. Ezio Pellizer, “Outlines of a Morphology of Sympotic Entertainment,” in Sympotica. A Symposium on the Symposium, ed. O. Murray (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990), 178.
70
three personified graces: Euphrosyne (good cheer or goodwill), Thalia (abundance,
feasting) and Aglaia (splendor, adornment). Especially Euphrosyne and Charis
appear repeatedly in descriptions of the ideal symposium.166 The god Dionysus is
present at all symposia and possesses those who drink with divine intoxication.167
Eros and the Muses are often to be found alongside Dionysus. Eros, the god of desire,
‘enters’ the bodies of young men. The Muses, the deities of music, are present
through the lyre and the flute played either by the drinkers or by professional female
musicians who are hired for the occasion.
The ideal symposium was not always realized in practice. In practice, the
symposium was poised between the harmonious ideas of goodwill, gratitude and
pleasure (cháris) and the disruptive idea of húbris. Húbris referred to behavior
designed to insult and dishonor others, often expressed in violence. It sometimes
involved contempt for one’s inferiors by the leisured classes.168 The most extreme
cases would involve aggressive atheism and a mocking of the deepest religious and
communal feelings of ordinary members of the city.169 Athens legislated against this
disruptive behavior.
The symposium was also a place for many competitive games, such as
improvisations of songs and verses, quotations of existing poems or songs, dancing,
balancing exploits, the game called kóttabos, the game of “flicking, with an elegant
166
1
Fisher (1988), 1173-4.167
1
Florence Dupont, The Invention of Literature. From Greek Intoxication to the Latin Book (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999), 22.168
1
Fisher (1988), 1177.169
1
Fisher (1988), 1185.
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action, the dregs of wine from one’s cup at a target.”170 Often, this kind of
competition was an invitation for húbris.
Many symposia were occasions for celebration and relaxation. However,
groups would also form clubs composed of men, usually about the same age, to
engage in mutually advantageous political or legal planning and activities which
would help each other’s career.171 The Athenian dêmos was at times suspicious of the
plots and values of these men. Alcibiades was the most extreme case of someone who
tried to combine playing the democratic political game with great expenditure of
wealth and pursuing a fundamentally undemocratic and hubristic life-style.172
Crete and, especially, Sparta were known not for their symposia but for their
common meals (sussitía) (cf. Laws, 625c6-8). Ancient authors regularly comment on
the absence of hubristic behavior and the control of the consequences of drinking at
Sparta.173 Wine was not absent at the Spartan sussitía because it was essential in the
rituals and sacrifices, but deep drinking (méthe) was absent at these occasions.174
According to Nicholas Fisher, “[t]he general picture [in the literature] proclaims
Spartan’s sobriety, self-control and care for their physical well-being, and equally
their concern to preserve their properties, to avoid conflicts between citizens and to
170
1
Fisher (1988), 1174.171
1
Fisher (1988), 1184.172
1
Cf. Plato’s Symposium (212c ff.).173
1
N. R. E. Fisher, “Drink, Hybris and the Promotion of Harmony in Sparta,” in Classical Sparta. Techniques behind her Success, ed. A. Powell (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1989), 26.174
1
Fisher (1989), 28; Glenn R. Morrow, Plato’s Cretan City. An Historical Interpretation of the Laws (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1960), 380. Megillus expresses pride in the fact that his city does not condone drunkenness, Laws (637a).
72
assert their authority over slaves … All this is held to be a significant part of the
explanation of Spartan success in avoiding stásis and achieving dominance.”175
The emphasis of the Spartan sussitía was on food rather than the drinking of
wine. Even so, luxurious foods and elaborate cuisine were largely absent.176 There
was a provision for the wealthier Spartans to share any surplus wealth or extra good
things with their fellow citizens, which was rewarded with honors and powers of
patronage.177 The other important difference between the symposium and the Spartan
sussitía was that the latter were part of the city and attendance was compulsory. The
values of the sussitía and the city were essentially the same. In Athens, as we have
seen, the values and ideas of the symposiasts regularly conflicted with the interests
and laws of the demos, and the law of húbris was often used against them.178
When the Athenian Stranger refers to the belief that wine shows the nature of
man, he refers to a belief that was not unfamiliar in Antiquity.179 We find indication
for this in the fragmentary remains of Alcaeus’ poems.180 Fragment 366 reads oînos, ô
phíle paî, kaì aláthea, “wine, dear friend, and truth”. Fragment 333 reads oînos gàr
175
1
Fisher (1989), 31-32.176
1
Fisher (1989), 37.177
1
Fisher (1989), 32-37.178
1
Fisher (1989), 38.179
1
In this context, it is worth mentioning that the drinking of wine attained many different and profound meanings in ancient and medieval times. Apart from the idea that the drinking of wine exposed the character of the individual and facilitated feelings of mutual goodwill among the drinkers, wine frequently possesses spiritual significance. For example, in the Christian tradition wine is conceived as the blood of Christ and drunk at communion. For an interesting discussion of the meaning of wine in Antiquity and the Middle Ages, see Hanneke Wilson, Wine and Words in Classical Antiquity and the Middle Ages (London: Duckworth, 2003).180
1
E. Lobel and D. Page, eds., Poetarum Lesbiorum Fragmenta. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1955).
73
anthrópo díoptron, “wine is a means for seeing through a man.”181 On the one hand,
wine is lathikádes; it makes man forget his troubles.182 On the other hand, the
drinking of wine facilitates fuller understanding and unrestrained communication.
During the symposium, frankness (parrhesía) is ever-present. Moreover, the
frankness released by wine was known to have a fraternizing effect. According to
Theognis’ sympotic poetry “Such a man should be my friend, who, when recognizing
his comrade, can accept him even if he has a difficult personality, just as if he were
his brother.”183 The symposium was a place to encourage openness and mutual
acceptance.
4.4 Wine as a Drug
4.4.1 Wine as a Pleasure Drug
The discussion about drinking parties occupies a large part of Book 1 (636e4-650b10)
and Book 2 (652a-674c7) of the Laws. At drinking parties, the participants enjoy the
benefits of intoxication. Drunkenness (méthe) (637d6) confers three benefits in the
Laws. In Book I (649d7-e2) it is said to provide (1) training in resisting pleasure and
181
1
Both fragments are taken from Wolfgang Rösler, “Wine and Truth in the Greek Symposium,” in In Vino Veritas (London: 1995), 106. Alcibiades refers to the connection between wine and frankness in Plato’s Symposium (217e).182
1
Rösler (1995), 108.183
1
Rösler (1995), 108-109.
74
desire and (2) a test of the nature and dispositions. In Book 2 (652b3-653a3) drinking
parties are said to (3) safeguard correct education.184
The Cretan practices serve to train a man in becoming fearless in the face of
the enemy.185 The problem with this definition of virtue is that courage (andreía) on
its own, defined as the resistance to fears, is ‘blind’ and has no place in civil settings.
The Athenian Stranger illustrates the objection by citing the poet Tyrtaeus, who
praises the warriors who stand fearless in the face of “bloody death” and who beat the
enemy by fighting until the bitter end (629e). According to the Athenian Stranger,
these warriors easily include mercenaries most of whom are “rash, unjust, insolent,
and very imprudent” (630b). As a result, even though the warriors may be effective in
external war, they are “not trustworthy and sound” in the midst of civil war (630b).
They are unable to live peacefully and reasonably with their fellow citizens.
The Athenian Stranger replaces the ideal of victory by subjugation with the
ideal of harmony, both in the city and in the soul. He introduces the idea of harmony
with an example of a feuding family with many brothers, most of whom are unjust
and only a few are just (627c). The Athenian Stranger offers Kleinias a choice
between three judges who are to restore order to the family (627e). The first judge
destroys the wicked brothers and allows the better brothers to rule themselves. The
second judge puts the worthy brothers in a ruling position and allows the worse to
184
1
Cf. Belfiore (1986), 424.185
1
Besides common meals and gymnastics, the Spartans have fistfights, the so-called secret service, and the festival of naked games (633b-c). The secret service (krupteía) involved systematic terrorism over the enslaved Helot population. The details were kept secret on account of its excessive cruelty (see Pangle Book I, fn. 31; Plutarch, Lycurgus, in Lives, vol. 1, ed. Arthur Hough Clough, and trans. John Dryden (New York: Modern Library, 2001), xxvii). The naked games apparently constituted a solemn all-day dance festival that took place in midsummer.
75
live, while making them willing to be ruled. The third judge does not put any one in a
ruling position but lays down laws for all of the brothers. These laws are meant to
reconcile the brothers with one another and secure their friendship (627e-628a).
Kleinias agrees that the third judge is best (628c).186 With the objective of
reconciliation, a new kind of human excellence becomes important.
The lawgiver’s objective of reconciliation and friendship does not mean that
the idea of victory by means of destruction or subjugation is rejected. Yet subjugation
belongs to the necessary, not to the best things (628c-d). Reconciliation, friendship
and harmony (628a9) refer not merely to the absence of strife but require positive
adjustment of the citizens to each other so that the city can flourish in peacetime as
well as be victorious in wartime. The Athenian Stranger offers the example of a sick
body as an illustration. It would be foolish if a physician thought that a sick body,
“after it had received a medical purgation, were in the best active condition, and never
turned his mind to a body which had no need of such remedies at all” (628d). To
achieve the best possible condition, the city – like the body – requires continuous
training and care.187 It requires a lawgiver who understands the peacetime virtues
more so than the warlike virtues.
What are the excellences that make a man trustworthy in civil settings rather
than victorious in war, and how does the lawgiver promote them? Whereas Tyrtaeus
praises the man victorious in war against external enemies, Theognis praises the man
186
1
The analogy between the third judge and the lawgiver introduces the concept of the rule of law; the correct lawgiver designs lawful customs that govern all people without distinction between rulers and ruled. Man, according to the Athenian Stranger, is incapable of exercising unchecked rule without becoming unjust (713c).187
1
See Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality (New York: Vintage, 1990) for a further exploration of the significance of the Ancient Greek art of dietetics for Greek ethics and law.
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who is trustworthy in civil strife. This man, so argues the Athenian Stranger,
possesses justice, moderation, and prudence along with courage, which is better than
courage alone (630a). “[A] man would never become trustworthy and sound in the
midst of civil wars if he didn’t have the whole of virtue” (630b). Moderation is
defined as “habitual self-control of a soul that uses reason” (631c7). Clearly,
moderation involves the ability of the soul to discriminate or respond to reasonable
judgment. Courage is not so defined, which is probably why it ranks last among the
divine goods (630b-1d). Courage requires moderation, and intelligence, in order to
result in justice.
Drinking parties are introduced as opportunities for the citizen to train himself
in conquering pleasures (637a). The drinking parties make man fearful in a manner
consistent with justice (647c). The drinking parties balance the Dorian practices,
which train men to become fearless, by training men to become fearful. This is
fearfulness in the face of the “many pleasures and desires that try to seduce [man]
into shamelessness and injustice” (647d). The lawgiver needs to find a mixture of
customs that properly trains the citizen to acquire the right balance of fearlessness and
fearfulness.
The Athenian Stranger claims exhaustive knowledge of drinking parties,
having experienced “all of them” (639d).188 He has, however, “hardly seen or heard of
188
1
This is an argument against the idea that the Athenian Stranger is Socrates, since it is unlikely that Socrates made a business of studying symposia. In Symposium, Plato portrays him as reluctant to join the party. Socrates remarks that he managed to avoid “yesterday’s victory party – I really don’t like crowds” (174a6-b1). Apollodorus tells the reader that Socrates had bathed and put on his fancy sandals, both highly unusual events (174a). When walking with Aristodemus, Socrates lags behind and enters the house only when the group is almost halfway through its meal (175c). This conflicts with Aristotle’s opinion about the identity of the Athenian Stranger in the Politics, ed. Stephen Everson and trans. Benjamin Jowett (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 1265a12.
77
a single one being run correctly in its entirety” (639d-e). He subsequently warns
Kleinias and Megillus not to base their judgment about the symposium on actual
experiences with this practice. Instead, when a practice is taken up for discussion - so
claims the Athenian Stranger - the correct manner for inquiring into whether the
practice is advantageous or not is to ask about how it should be administered. One
should ask “in what manner, by whom, along with what, in what condition, and to
persons in what condition” the excessive drinking of wine is appropriate (638c). In
other words, some prudential knowledge is necessary in evaluating the symposia.
First, at the symposia it is necessary that wine should be mixed and drunk
diluted or undiluted with water. If diluted, the question is to what extent wine should
be diluted (637d5-e7). The Athenian Stranger does not provide Megillus and Kleinias
with the exact proportion for the mixture, assuming he thinks that wine should be
mixed, but he raises it as an issue to be considered.
Second, the Athenian Stranger stresses that the symposium is beneficial only
when administered by a correct ruler (symposíarchos) (640a). In order to be a correct
ruler, certain qualities are required. The ruler must have not only knowledge but also
possess stamina, just like a worthy ruler of a ship requires knowledge of navigation
and needs to be able to withstand seasickness (639a-b), and just like the ruler of an
army needs to possess knowledge of war and the ability to act courageously in the
midst of dangers (639b). The Athenian Stranger thus emphasizes that the ruler needs
both intellectual and certain physical qualities. The latter are the result of natural
ability and training.189 The ruler of the symposium needs the ability to withstand the
189
1
The intellectual aspect of the quality of these leaders, not the physical aspect, is designated as part of their art (téchne) (639b3, b9).
78
temptation to indulge in the drinking of wine or needs to possess sufficient stamina
not to feel its effect or have its effect impede his judgment. It is necessary that he be
sober (640d, cf. 671d). The Athenian Stranger suspects that Spartan objections to the
drinking party are made largely based on rumors about disturbances that take place in
particular when the ruler is drunk himself.
The symposium is a place where people commune with one another, which
when accompanied by drunkenness easily leads to disturbances. This is why the
symposium needs a ruler in the first place, as someone who can maintain a sense of
order and goodwill, or cháris instead of húbris. Moreover, the leader has to be
“prudent in regard to social intercourse” (640c). He is a guard over friendship and
should make sure that it increases through the intercourse (640c-d). The ruler of the
symposium fosters cohesion and goodwill among friends in times of peace (640b).
When properly conducted, how does a drinking party train and test the
participants? To understand the effects of copious amounts of wine on the soul of the
individual, we have to look at the psychology of man that the Athenian Stranger
provides us with. Man, according to the Athenian Stranger, can be compared to a
divine puppet (644d). The puppet possesses within itself two opposed and imprudent
counselors, pleasure and pain (644c). Connected to these is fear, which is the
expectation of pain, and boldness, which is the expectation of pleasure (644c-d). Over
these stands calculation as to which one is better and which one is worse (644d).
When this calculation becomes the common opinion of the city it is called the law of
the city (644d). Law, in other words, is the public calculation of expectations, of what
to fear and what not to fear and of what to desire and what not to desire.
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Man, as a divine puppet, feels the pull of these different passions, which work
like tendons or cords (644e). They pull the puppet one way or the other, pulling
against one another and pulling the puppet toward opposing deeds, “struggling in the
region where virtue and vice (aretè kaì kakía) lie separated from one another” (644e).
The main argument that the puppet metaphor presents us with - the moral of the story
- is that each should always follow the “golden and sacred” pull of calculation, which
is called the common law of the city (644e-a). The problem is that the pull of
calculation or law is soft, while the other cords are hard - they are iron versus gold.
Hence, the golden cord of calculation or law needs helpers (645a).
What happens to man as a puppet when it drinks too much wine? According
to the Athenian Stranger, the drinking of wine makes the pleasures and pains, the
spirited emotions (thumoùs) and the erotic emotions more intense (645d). At the same
time, the sensations, memories, opinions, and prudent thoughts desert the one who
becomes intoxicated (645e). The result is that the person who is drunk attains the
disposition of the soul of a young child (645e). In this condition, he is least a master
of himself, whereupon Kleinias wonders why anyone would put themselves in such a
degrading condition (646a-b).
According to the Athenian Stranger, however, this condition has significant
educational benefits. Wine acts like a drug that induces pleasures in the soul, which
provides the drinker with training in dealing with these pleasures. The drinker learns
not to act disgracefully under the influence of wine. The drinker can learn to leave
before reaching his limits of alcohol. The intake of wine provides the drinker with a
kind of gymnastic training in combating the pleasures that arise from it (646c; 647c).
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Just as gymnastic training exhausts the body in order to make it stronger, so the
drinking of wine causes the puppet to loose self-control in order to make his soul
stronger. While the drinker is under the influence of wine, he learns to fight the
pleasures that arise from it.
Learning to fight and control the pleasures one experiences in one’s soul
during the symposia is not a rational process. While intoxicated, reason and prudent
thoughts abandon the puppet. Instead, the learning process takes place in the lower
part of the soul. Pleasures are fought and balanced by a contrary emotion, which is a
particular kind of fear. The Athenian Stranger explains that there are two kinds of
fear: the fear of something bad happening and the fear of other people’s opinions. The
Athenian calls the latter kind of fear shame (aischúne) or awe (aidôs) (647a). It is the
fear of doing something ignoble and being judged for it by one’s peers. This fear
should be strengthened because it helps oppose the pleasures that are damaging to the
city when acted upon.
While fighting his pleasures, the drinker is encouraged by the symposiarch
who rewards moderation and obedience by honoring him but dishonors anyone who
disobeys (648c). At this point, the symposiarch is replaced by the lawgiver (648a),
and the symposium has become a vehicle for explaining the fundamentals of
lawgiving. The right kind of shame is defined by the law, which determines what
ought to be feared and what ought not to be feared (cf. 644d).
Education is not the only benefit derived from the drinking of wine. The
Athenian Stranger asks rhetorically whether the lawgiver would not want to test
people (648b). He explains the testing by comparing wine to an imaginary drink that
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he calls a “fear drug” (647e). The more a man drinks the drug, the more miserable
and unfortunate he feels, until even the most courageous man ultimately experiences
total terror (647e-8a). The lawgiver would use the drink in order to learn as much as
possible about the drinkers’ courage or cowardice and reward the former while
punishing the latter (648c). Man always recovers completely from the fear drug
(648a), making the test safer compared to the military exercises described earlier by
Megillus.190 Wine, according to the Athenian Stranger, is a beverage that acts in a way
that is similar to the fear drug. However, instead of inducing fear and terror, wine
induces fearlessness and boldness (649a). This mood develops in three stages. First,
the drinker becomes more cheerful. Then, the more a person drinks, the more he
becomes hopeful and self-confident. He becomes “puffed up with good hopes and an
opinion of his own power” (649b). Finally, the drinker experiences complete
fearlessness. He is filled with license of speech and believes himself to be wise. In
this condition, the drinker loses self-control. He becomes shameless and feels free to
say and even do whatever he wants (649b).
Just like the fear drug, wine works in a homeopathic fashion. According to the
Athenian Stranger, wine instills relatively harmless pleasures in order to train people
to resist dangerous pleasures such as “spirited anger, erotic desire, insolence, lack of
learning, love of gain, cowardice, and, in addition, wealth, beauty, strength” (649d).
Wine is considered as a substance that produces symptoms similar to a disease of the
soul, namely, shamelessness, in order to strengthen the soul’s ‘immune system’
against it. Working like the fear drug, wine shows whether or nor the drinker can
190
1
Military exercises involved hunting, fistfights, “secret service” and the festival of “naked games” where the participants combat in the stifling heat of summer (633a-c).
82
maintain self-mastery and refrain from shameful actions even while intoxicated and
whether he can prevent himself from taking the last drink that will push him over the
edge (648e).191
The Athenian Stranger concludes that it is safer to test and train a soul in
handling these pleasures at a drinking party than to turn him loose in society and
taking the risk of making a contract with him or entrusting family members to him
(649e-650a). Wine facilitates “a decent way of testing one another – one which in
cheapness, safety, and speed differs from the other tests” (650b).
This test, of course, is very different from the testing of opinions that takes
place in philosophical dialogue.192 In the Laws, testing aims at exposing the
disposition of the soul (êthos psuchês) (650a5) or the natures (phúseis) and habits
(héxeis) of their soul (650b7). The disposition of the soul depends on the way its
pleasures and pains are arranged, not on the soundness of its rational part (cf. 653b2-
6).
4.4.2 Wine as a Drug for the Elderly
Wine is not only compared to a drug that tests and trains the symposiasts, it is also
compared to a drug that rejuvenates the elderly who are supposed to sing in the
Chorus of Dionysus. The process of rejuvenation is described in physical terms. Wine
makes the disposition of the older drinker softer and more malleable, “like iron when
191
1
Socrates is presented in other dialogues as the person who always remains himself regardless of the quantity of wine he consumes. Cf. Symposium 176c, 214a, 220a. 192
1
See appendix A for an analysis of this kind of testing in the Laches, the Gorgias, and the Theaetetus.
83
it is plunged into fire” (666c).193 In this way, wine is said to safeguard education
(652b3-653a3). The elderly are generally ashamed to sing songs (665d-e). Yet, they
are the “best part of the city” on account of their age, experience, and attachment to
custom (665d). It is important to the city that they sing in order to pass on traditions
and it is important that they participate in the education that singing and dancing in
the chorus provides. Wine makes the elderly less ashamed and more eager in spirit
(666c).
4.4.3 Wine and the Lawgiver
The Athenian Stranger calls wine a drug because it incapacitates the rational element
in the soul and stimulates the part of the soul that experiences pleasures. The drug is
used to put the drinker into the position of a child with a malleable soul. The “fear
drug” is itself a metaphor; unlike a real drug, the fear drug aims at effecting changes
in the soul rather than the body.
The Athenian Stranger argues that the art of politics has as its business to care
for souls (650b). Yet, in order to care for the soul, one first has to understand the soul
and its potential pathologies. The discussion of symposia shows how souls can be
tested. In everyday life, people may disguise their bad dispositions, whether out of
shame or opportunism. Wine induces shamelessness and offers a window on the soul,
as it were.194 The discussion of symposia also shows how the lower part of the soul is
193
1
Wine was known in the medical tradition to produce warmth in the body, cf. Hippocrates, Regimen, 2.52.194
1
Shame can even be a hindrance in philosophical discourse when it prevents the interlocutor from voicing his real opinions. This is why Callicles in the Gorgias poses a genuine challenge to Socrates; Callicles is unafraid to say what he really thinks (486e-7b)
84
trained to become moderate. As such, the discussion of symposia illustrates the effect
of law and custom on the soul.
Another reason why the symposium is a clever suggestion is that it tests a
group of people. The test of drinking wine is easy for “one person, for a few, or for as
many as one might want to apply it to on each occasion” (648c). Still, the Athenian
Stranger suggests that testing oneself could be a private affair; someone could
withdraw to a deserted place to test his own condition (648d).
Still, there is something manipulative about the suggestion to use the
symposium as a way of testing and training the participants.195 Modern (and ancient)
sensibilities rebel against the proposal of drugging a person to the point that his
reason is debilitated.196 Moreover, the loss of autonomy seems antithetical to
philosophy and is at odds with the Socratic ideal in which man is liberated from law
and custom by the use of reason and search for the Good.197 The Athenian Stranger,
however, argues that most people cannot live prudentially independent of law and
custom (653a-b). Essentially, these people are like children, which is the state that
wine puts them in artificially.198 Moreover, it is in the nature of law and custom to
195
1
Which may be the reason why the Athenian Stranger hesitates at his own suggestion (648c).196
1
The question about the illiberal nature of the Stranger’s arguments has been discussed by Karl Popper, The Open Society and its Enemies, vol. 1 (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1962); Gerhard Müller. Studien zur Platonischen Nomoi (München: Beck, 1968); Laszlo Versenyi, “The Cretan Plato: Review of Glenn Morrow, Plato’s Cretan City,” Review of Metaphysics. Critical Studies 15, 1 (1971); and Wilson (2003), 143.197
1
This ideal is portrayed in Plato’s Apology, in which Socrates is effectively out of reach of the city on account of not fearing death and refusing to live the life of philosophy (28e-9a). It is clear also in the release of the philosopher from the chains in the cave that represents the city (Republic, 515c).198
1
This is also the perspective of the Laws of Athens in the Crito. Socrates is considered a child to the law, not only because the city nurtured and educated him but also because he failed to persuade the city with rational arguments. Hence, he is obliged to obey like a child obeys his parents (Crito, 51b).
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train the dispositions of people in ways which people themselves often remain
unaware.199
What are the practical implications of the testing? When Eleatic Stranger
speaks about testing in the last part of the Statesman, the results are harsh. The
statesman will “put them [human beings] to the test in play” (308d). Those who are
good or useful are those who have the capacity to be educated while those who turn
out to be bad or worthless are unable to receive education because they do not share
in a courageous and moderate disposition. These people tend towards “godlessness,
excess and injustice” and should be killed, send into exile, or punished with the most
extreme forms of dishonor (St. 308e-309a).
In the Laws, the implications of testing seem to be slightly less harsh. The
Athenian Stranger argues that the best thing for incurable souls is either death or exile
but that they will instead send people who are incurable to another colony (735d-
736a). The discussion of the purge comes in the early part of book V, and is not
linked explicitly to the discussion of the symposium, which takes place at the end of
book I. However, the discussion of the purge is explicitly linked to some form of
“thorough testing” (735b).
4.4 Conclusion
This chapter showed how the medical metaphor of wine as a drug helps explain the
testing and training that takes place at the symposia in the Laws. At one point in the
discussion the lawgiver replaces the leader of the symposium (648a). At this point the
199
1
Until, for example, they are confronted with the customs of a different society.
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symposium becomes a means of explaining the fundamentals of lawgiving. The
testing and training are meant to provide the lawgiver with insight into the
dispositions of people. Wine acts like a drug that debilitates the rational part of the
soul while strengthening the pleasures it experiences. This trains the drinker in
fighting and controlling pleasures. Wine can produce pleasures to the point when the
drinker becomes filled with shamelessness, which is supposed to have the opposite
effect of the drinker becoming more shameful. It is the law that dictates what should
be experienced as noble or shameful.
The metaphor of wine as a drug illustrates the sub-rational nature of the
testing and training that takes place. The drinker is supposed to become shameful and
obedient to the law or lawgiver. The Athenian Stranger suggests that this process is
achieved not by means of argument but physiologically, by imbibing a foreign
substance.
This dissertation returns to the issue of education in the city in Chapter 5. The
following chapter, however, deals with the next medical image in the Laws, which is
the city as either healthy or diseased organism in Book 3.
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CHAPTER 5
THE HEALTHY CITY
5.1 Introduction
The Athenian Stranger uses several terms from the medical profession to describe
successful and failing regimes. For example, he calls it a common “disease of kings”
to desire more than the established laws allow (691a1-2). Kings cave in to their
disease when the lawgiver fails to impose rules that preserve due measure by giving
more power to the inferior party (691c1-2). The Athenian Stranger calls them feverish
(phlegmaínousan) (691e3). The objective of the lawgiver is to care for the city as a
whole, just like a physician (iatrós) should care for the entire body not just one of its
parts (903c5). The city itself is compared to a living organism that disintegrates by
the injustice of factions (736a, 744d, 945c-e, 964d-e). Moreover, the Hippocratic
understanding of health offers a helpful analogy for the kind of “healthy” regime the
Athenian Stranger recommends, as this chapter will demonstrate.
There is substantial debate in the scholarly literature about exactly how to
characterize the regime of Magnesia. The Athenian Stranger states that there are two
“mother regimes” monarchy and democracy, and that all other regimes spring from
these (693d). Consequently, what one expects is a regime that is some kind of
combination of monarchy and democracy; one in which the power is shared between
the king and the people. However, there is no mention of a monarch in Magnesia.
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Instead, the highest office in the city is the supervisor of education, who rules for a
limited period of five years (766c). The Magnesian regime has elements of
democracy because several of the magistrates are selected by a system of lot. Yet
most magistrates are elected by their peers or by the citizenry at large, usually from a
select group of experienced citizens and property qualifications play an important
role. The actual regime of Magnesia seems much closer to an aristocracy or oligarchy
rather than a combination of monarchy and democracy.200
The dominant interpretation in the scholarly literature is to understand the
regime proposed in the Laws as a rudimentary precursor to the ancient theory of
mixed government, which was fully developed by Polybius in the Histories. Polybius
distinguished between six kinds of governments: kingship, aristocracy, democracy,
and their three perverted forms, which he called monarchy, oligarchy and ochlocracy
(mob-rule).201 The three types are rule by one, rule by a few, and rule by the many.
Herodotus already distinguished between them.202 All these governments are unstable
200
2
This is also the conclusion of Aristotle, who states in the Politics that: “The constitution proposed in the Laws has no element of monarchy at all; it is nothing but oligarchy and democracy, leaning rather to oligarchy” (1266a5-6). According to Aristotle, the importance of oligarchy and democracy is evident in the mode of appointing magistrates. The rich are compelled by law to attend the Assembly and vote for magistrates or discharge of other political duties, while the rest may choose to participate or not. Moreover, there is an attempt to appoint the greater number of magistrates out of the richer classes and the highest officers selected from those who have the greatest incomes. Both are oligarchic features. The oligarchic principle prevails also in the choice of the Council, for all are compelled to choose, but the compulsion extends only to the choice out of the first class. Thus, Aristotle decides that “the preponderance will be given to the better sort of people, who have the larger incomes, because many of the lower classes, not being compelled will not vote” (1266a).201
2
Polybius, Hist. VI.3.5-6. Translation used in Karl Von Fritz, The Theory of the Mixed Constitution in Antiquity (New York: Columbia University Press, 1954).202
2
Herodotus distinguished between three simple regimes. Thucydides was aware of the possibility and desirability of a mixture, Andreas A. M. Kinneging, Aristocracy, Antiquity and History. Classicism in Political Thought (New Brunswick: Transaction,1997), 215; Herodotus, Histories, ed. John M. Marincola, trans. by Aubrey de Selincourt (London: Penguin, 1996), III.80-82; Thucydides, Peloponnesian War, trans. Steven Lattimore. Indianapolis: Hackett, 1998), VIII. 97. The typology of governments reaches its final shape in Aristotle’s Politics, although Aristotle’s treatment of the concept of mixed government was less definite. Sometimes Aristotle advocates a mixture of two,
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and destined to go through an eternal cycle of political revolutions.203 Only a mixture
of the good and distinctive features of the three best governments – kingship,
aristocracy, and democracy – can bring the cycle of revolutions to a halt.
Among those who consider the regime in Plato’s Laws an early and
undeveloped instance of Polybius’ mixed regime is G. J. D. Aalders.204 According to
Aalders, the Athenian Stranger is indifferent to the number of components in the
mixed constitution of Magnesia, whereas Polybius argued that the mixed regime
combined the distinctive features of the three best governments.205 Aalders further
observes that the Laws does not even present Sparta as a combination of three
regimes but instead as “tyrannical, democratic, aristocratic, and monarchic all at
once” (712d-e). He agrees with Aristotle that the Magnesian regime is really a
combination of democracy and aristocracy or oligarchy, in which the democratic
principle is weak.206 In other words, according to Aalders, the Athenian Stranger
conflates two forms of government (monarchy and democracy) into a third
sometimes three regimes, Politics, 1293b34-35. Cicero further develops the theory in De Re Publica and De Legibus. For a detailed analysis of Polybius’ Histories, see Fritz (1954).203
2
Hist., VI.9.10.204
2
G. J. D. Aalders, Die Theorie der gemischten Verfassung im Altertum (Amsterdam: A. M. Hakkert, 1968).205
2
Aalders (1968), 42-3.206
2
Other scholars also use Aristotle’s classification of regimes to provide a label for the Magnesian regime. For example, Thomas Pangle (1980) argues that the Magnesian regime is either aristocratic or, more likely, oligarchic. Pangle’s explanation for this regime is connected to his understanding of the role of philosophy in the city: “[i]t is more likely that philosophy might influence a few of the old, or young, rich, whose lives are not dominated by the degrading sting of economic necessity,” 459. Pangle does not explain, however, why the Athenian Stranger does not use these terms and, instead, argues for a combination of monarchy and democracy. According to Christopher Bobonich (2002), the Magnesian regime is a combination of aristocracy and democracy, 440-449. Unlike Pangle, Bobonich argues that property classes do not play a significant political role in the distribution of power. Bobonich maintains that the Laws is more democratic compared to the Republic and that the Athenian Stranger in the Laws shows a remarkable willingness to involve all members of the city in political decision-making. Neither author pays much attention to the notion of the mixing of regimes that is emphasized by the Athenian Stranger.
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(aristocracy or oligarchy), without being aware of the advantages of maintaining
distinctions between the three.
In this chapter I will argue that it is inaccurate to study the regime in the Laws
as an embryonic example of Polybius’ theory of regime. Instead, the chapter proposes
to understand the Athenian Stranger’s argument about regimes in the context of the
medical language that he uses. In particular, the ancient Greek concept of health helps
explain the regime proposed by the Athenian Stranger. The Athenian Stranger speaks
of a mixture (meígnusin, 691e3, súmmeiktos, 692a7) of regimes, although he is not
concerned – as is Polybius – with the number of its parts. Instead, he is mainly
concerned about the unity of the regime. Unity is achieved by distributing power
(dúnamis) “in due measure (eis tò métrion)” (691e1) over an indefinite number of
offices. The terms due measure (métron), power (dúnamis), along with terms such as
equilibrium (isonomía), blending or mixture (krásis or míxis), excess (huperbolé),
harmony (harmonía), right proportion or time (kairós), and proportion (súmmetria)
were part of the contemporary medical profession.207 They help explain the kind of
regime that the Athenian Stranger is trying to achieve.
Before turning to a study of the relevant passages in the Laws, one worthwhile
contribution should be mentioned. Hans-Joachim Krämer argues that the two basic
regimes - monarchy and democracy - form a continuum.208 Monarchy should not be
taken in the literal sense as kingship but instead as the concentration of power,
whereas democracy indicates dispersal of power.209 The two extremes of this
207
2
Lidz (1995), 529. 208
2
H. J. Krämer, Arete bei Platon und Aristoteles. Zum Wesen und zur Geschichte der platonischen Ontologie (Heidelberg: Carl Winter Universitätsverlag, 1959).209
Krªmer (1959), 211.
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continuum are tyranny and anarchy and in between are all possible constitutional
forms that change from one into the other.210 Krämer argues correctly that the regime
proposed for Magnesia is an optimal regime, which strikes the mean (méson) between
monarchy and democracy (756e; cf. 759b). In this way, he explains, democracy is the
counterweight balancing monarchy against tyranny while monarchy balances
democracy against mob-rule.211
The Hippocratic conception of health likewise depends on the relationships
between opposing powers. The opposing powers and elements counter each other’s
effects and, when properly proportioned, they will balance each other. This
equilibrium can be distorted by excess or defect of any power or element. When
equilibrium between opposing powers or elements is sustained and resistant to
change, the body can be said to be truly healthy.
This chapter first explains how the discussion of the origin of cities in the
Laws leads up to the discovery of due measure, which is the principle that establishes
stable regimes (676a-689e). The chapter then deals with the discussion of the Spartan
regime, which displays appropriate institutional arrangements according to due
measure, and the Persian and Athenian regimes, which show the inadequacy of
different institutional arrangements for maintaining measured rule (690d-701c). The
third part of the chapter deals with the concept of the mean between monarchy and
210
2
Krämer (1959), 208.211
2
Krämer (1959), 210. Glenn Morrow (1960) also argues that the Magnesian regime is intended to hit the mean between two extremes, namely, despotism and freedom, 521. According to Morrow, the mean suggests Pythagorean influence, 523-5.
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democracy and the institutional arrangements for Magnesia that show how a mixed
regime according to a measured distribution of power works out concretely.
5.2 The Origin of Cities
5.2.1 The State of Nature
The Athenian Stranger’s story about the origin of cities can be structured into four
stages, the fourth of which reveals the principle of due measure. The Athenian
Stranger starts out telling about a flood, in which only a few people survived because
they lived in the mountains. The mountain people lacked experience in the arts,
including the art of politics (677b-c). They were left with a large mass of abundant
land and with just enough cattle to support them and were moderately wealthy (679b).
Fearing to descend from the mountains, the people initially stayed put and were well
disposed towards one another because they met so rarely (678c). War of all kinds was
absent (678e).212
Initially, the Athenian Stranger seems to praise the simplicity of the mountain
people. However, it quickly becomes clear that the virtue of the mountain people is
not mature virtue because it lacks prudence. The mountain people lack the ability to
distinguish truth from falsehood (679c). Without prudence, the virtue of the mountain
people is unreliable. It comes closest to the kind of virtue that is possessed by
children and animals; this kind of virtue “blooms naturally from the beginning, in
children and beasts, and by which some lack self-restraint with regard to pleasures
while others possess self-restraint” (710a). The people’s peacefulness and goodwill
212
2
The need for legislation does not arise out of a natural condition of hardship and conflict as it does in Hobbes’ Leviathan.
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towards one another depends on circumstances rather than reason; they rely on the
conditions and customs the mountain people happen to have.
The ambiguity of the virtue of the mountain people and the Athenian
Stranger’s condemnation of their virtue is obvious in his reference to the regime of
the Cyclopes in Homer’s Odyssey, which the Athenian Stranger presents as a regime
that is similar to the regime of the mountain people (680b). In Homer’s story, the
Cyclopes are described as lawless and inhuman. They are without the divine justice
that secures justice in convention and the safety of the stranger.213 In the world of the
Cyclopes, each is ruler and judge over his own children. They order their lives by
paternal rule or by the rule of the elder, which does not secure the safety of the
outsider. The story in the Odyssey is that the Cyclops cuts up and devours two of
Ullysses’ men.214 The Athenian Stranger’s indirect reference to the savagery of the
Cyclops puts the customs and virtue of the mountain people into question.215
The premise of the Laws is that almost all people – not just the mountain
people - lack judgment, which is why there is a need for law. The mountain people,
however, do not possess law in the proper sense. Written law is absent since,
according to the myth, writing did not yet exist (680a). Instead, the mountain people
are guided by habits and ancestral laws (patríois nómois) (680a6-7).216 This means
213
2
Jaeger (1947), 353.214
2
Homer, Odyssey, trans. Richmond Lattimore (New York: Harper and Row,1967), IX. 287-294.
215 Kleinias is unfamiliar with Homer, but Megillus is familiar with the poet and remembers the story of the Cyclops’ savagery (680d).216
2
Clan-like groups were thought to be regulated by divine justice (themis). Where themis ruled, even a stranger would be safe. In the Cyclops story, however, there are neither deliberative assemblies nor is there divine justice (themis). Cf. Jaeger (1947), 353.
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that the customs of the people grow organically without the conscious interference of
critical judgment. Still, the Athenian Stranger points out that the mountain people
already had a kind of political regime, which he calls a dynasty (dunasteía) (680b2).
This term denotes arbitrary rule and is used again in the discussion of tyrannical rule
(711c).
Political regimes and arts and laws, wickedness and virtue all develop from
this first stage of living together (678a). Virtue develops “along with the experience
of the beautiful and opposite things of urban life” (678b1-3). This kind of virtue
differs from the childlike virtue of the mountain people because it includes
intelligence or, at least, obedience to law that imitates intelligence.
5.2.2 The Origin of Legislation (III.680e-682c)
The second stage in the origin of cities develops as follows. According to the
Athenian Stranger’s account, the steady increase in population causes people to come
together in bigger communities, forming cities. The people settle down and take to
farming. They erect city walls because there are now wild beasts. As the communities
expand, more families and clans are included. Each of these groups brings along its
elder and its own particular customs (681a-b). These customs differ from each other
because each family or clan lived apart from others and because there are differences
between the respective elders.
The origin of legislation lies in the necessity of arbitrating between different
customs. When the different clans meet they are compelled to select lawgivers who
look over the customs of all the clans and pick out the ones they find “especially
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agreeable for the community” (681c-d1). The lawgivers select the customs and
present them to the leaders and chiefs for approval. They are displayed clearly, which
means that they are written down (681c). The Athenian Stranger calls this regime a
sort of aristocracy because the lawgivers appoint the ruling officials (681d3). The
process of selection, approval, and codification corrects the arbitrariness of the
dynasties.217
The third stage, after the mountain people and after the coming together of
clans, is when “all forms and experiences of political regimes and of cities come
together.” (681d) At this point, the development of regimes has reached its full
variety. This stage refers to the settlement of Ilium (the citadel of Troy) at the
foothills of Mount Ida (682b-e). According to the Athenian Stranger’s version of the
story, after about ten years, the Achaeans sacked Ilium, while the young men in their
home city revolted. Returning to their cities after the sieges, the warriors were
received with hostility and many were killed and exiled. Those who were exiled once
again returned to their city and changed their name from Achaean to Dorian on
account of their leader Dorieus. The story of the Athenian Stranger which, up until
now was mythical, blurs with a version of Greek history.218
5.2.3 The Discovery of Due Measure
217
2
At the end of the Laws, in the discussion about whether citizens are allowed to travel, the Athenian Stranger explains that without knowledge of alternative regimes a city can not be sufficiently perfect nor can it truly accept its own laws with knowledge (951b). 218
2
Pangle (1980) points out that the Athenian Stranger distorts and domesticates the story of the Dorian invasions, fn. 12. Compare to Thucydides, Pelop. War, I. xii and Herodotus, Hist. I.56, VIII.73.
96
The fourth stage in the development of cities concerns the alliance between the three
Dorian cities Argos, Messene and Lacedaimon (683d). The kings and the people of
all three cities swore mutual oaths in accordance with the laws. The kings swore not
to make their rule harsher over time, while the people swore that if the kings kept
their oaths they would not dissolve the monarchies or allow others to do so (684a-b).
The cities also promised each other that they would help the kings or populaces of
another city if either one was treated unjustly. This meant that two cities would
control any one of the cities that disobeyed the established laws (684b). The concern
of the alliance was to maintain agreement between the kings and the people, not by
actually sharing power but by faithfulness to the oaths. In obedience to the oaths, the
kings allowed for moderate freedom while the people obeyed the orders of the king.
The Athenian Stranger explains that the alliance had the potential to be an
irresistible power. However, out of the three cities only Lacedaimon was faithful to
its oaths, while Argos and Messene swiftly corrupted (685a). The cause of destruction
of the alliance is twofold. First, the people of Argos and Messene wanted their
lawgivers to establish laws that are accepted voluntarily because they are pleasurable
(684c). The Athenian Stranger compares the proposal to someone commanding
gymnasts or doctors to do what is pleasant in order to care for and cure his body,
whereas bodies become strong and healthy with at least a moderate amount of pain
(684c). The people did not restrain their desires and preferred to avoid compulsion.
This put the settlement at risk. In order to preserve moderation in the regime, the
Athenian Stranger declares that “nothing that pertains to ruling is to be given to
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citizens” (689c). The reason is that the many are ignorant, even though they possess
cleverness (689c-d). The ruling offices are to be handed to the prudent ones.
The second, and most important, cause of destruction of the alliance was the
corruption of the rulers. The Athenian Stranger argues that the rulers of Argos and
Messene suffered from ignorance (amathía) regarding the greatest of human affairs
(688d1). He defines this kind of ignorance as the “dissonance between pleasure and
pain on the one hand, and the opinion that is according to reason on the other” (689a).
It is the “ultimate and greatest ignorance” because it belongs to the major part of the
soul, which is the part that feels pleasure and pain (689a). The ignorant person
dislikes what in his own opinion is noble and good. The opposite condition is
consonance (sumphonía) (689d6, 7). Dissonance occurs in the soul when its lower
part is out of tune with its rational part, meaning that the lower part of the soul
opposes its “natural rulers” which are knowledge, opinions, or reason (689b). The
kings of Argos and Messene lived arrogantly on account of luxury, which Kleinias
calls a disease (nósema) of kings (691a2). They destroyed both themselves and the
power of the alliance by desiring more than the established laws allowed (691a).
While in speech the kings praised obedience to the law, in their actions they
disregarded the law (691a).
What can the lawgiver do to forestall “this affliction” (691b)? According to
the Athenian Stranger, the answer lies in a measured distribution of power. “Knowing
how to preserve due measure (tò métrion) in this respect [distribution of power] is the
sign of great lawgivers” (691d4). The kings of Argos and Messene were ignorant of
due measure. They failed to understand what, according to the Athenian Stranger,
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Hesiod put well, that the half is often more than the whole (690e). “When it is
harmful to take the whole, but the half is a measured amount (métrion), then the
measured amount should be considered more than the amount that is unmeasured
(amétrou)– for the one is better and the other is worse” (690e). The measured amount
refers to measurement in relation to the moderate, the fitting, the opportune, or the
needful.219 The kings usurped more power than was appropriate.
The measured amount means that power is distributed proportionally to those
who are competent. “If someone goes against due measure and gives more power to
those who are inferior – whether it involves giving sails to ships or food to bodies or
ruling offices to souls – he will presumably overturn everything; filled with insolence,
some things will run to sickness, others to the injustice that is born from insolence”
(691c). If the amount of power is not proportionate to the ruler’s competence then the
ruler will abuse that power. No human being can bear absolute power. There does not
exist, so states the Athenian Stranger, a “mortal soul whose nature, so long as it is still
young and irresponsible, will ever bear the greatest sort of rule among human beings”
(691c). Given man’s inability to deal with absolute power, the rule of law is essential.
The rule of law is meant to ensure restriction of the rulers’ powers in order to fit their
competence. This played out successfully in the Spartan regime that, on account of its
measured distribution of power, was able to preserve its laws.
219
2
Cf. Statesman (284e).
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5.3 The Spartan Regime (III.690d5-693d1)
The Spartan regime, so says the Athenian Stranger, preserved itself on account of
having attained due measure (métron) and mixture (súmmeiktos) “of the proper
things” (692a). Both terms are shared with the medical profession. The source of
strength of the Spartan regime was the distinctive way in which power in the regime
was dispersed, which kept the desires of the rulers in check.
First of all, by accident or – as the Athenian Stranger puts it – by an act of
divine providence, the power of the monarchy was split in two (691d). The Spartan
monarchy was a dual arrangement.220 According to Spartan tradition, the twin sons of
Aristodemus - Procles and Eurysthenes - had ruled jointly at the beginning.221 The
successive descendants of Procles and Eurysthenes held the monarchy together. Dual
kingship provided the first limitation on monarchial power. The two kings had to
compromise in order to preserve their position. The Athenian Stranger emphasizes
that the birth of twin kings from the same lineage “made things more measured” for
the Spartans (691e1).
Secondly, the Spartan constitution became more balanced by the addition of
the Council of Elders (gerousía) (692a). Historically, the council counted twenty-
eight members who were over sixty years of age and who were popularly elected on
the basis of merit.222 Their powers were significant; their vote had equal weight with
the kings on important matters. In times of peace, the kings functioned as members of
the council and the rivalry between the two made it difficult to present a united front
220
2
Cf. Herodotus, Hist., VI. 52.221
2
Morrow (1960), 56.222
2
Morrow (1960), 56.
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against the adverse opinion in the council.223 Thus, the institution of the Council of
Elders provided an effective counterweight to the power of the kings, preventing
them from usurping all power.
Thirdly, the power of the kings was restrained by the Ephors.224 There were
five Ephors who were selected annually from the people. The Athenian Stranger calls
it an institution that “drew near to the power based on a lottery” (692a). The Ephors
had great powers over policy and administration.225 They had the right to convoke the
assembly, controlled foreign relations, had oversight over internal affairs, supervised
the education system and could bring a king to trial. Megillus calls their powers
almost tyrannical (cf. 712d).
The Athenian Stranger says that the power of the Spartan kings would not
have been maintained without this distribution of power (692b). Too large a
concentration of power in one place is an invitation for the regime to become
tyrannical. The preservation of Sparta was the result of a measured distribution of
power, which maintained a balance between too much and too little concentration of
power.
5.4 The Regimes of Persia and Athens (III.694a-701c)
223
2
Morrow (1960), 57. Cf. Aristotle, Politics, 1270b-1271a.224
2
Cf. Aristotle, Politics, 1270b ff.225
2
Aristotle remarks in Politics 1270b that the power of the Ephors was “tyrannical” and corrupted the Spartan constitution. The Ephors were chosen from the whole people, which meant that often the office fell into the hands of the poor who were susceptible to bribes. Even the kings needed to respect the Ephorate. Still, Aristotle argued that the Ephorate helped keep the state together. “For if a constitution is to be permanent, all the parts of the state must wish that it should exist and that these arrangements be maintained” (1270b20-25).
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Whereas the Spartan regime demonstrates the importance of a proper distribution of
power over the different offices, the discussion of the Persian and Athenian regimes
establishes the tendency of simple regimes to deteriorate into extremes.226
The Athenian Stranger tells us that there are “two mothers of regimes,” one
called monarchy and the other called democracy (693d). The other regimes are a
combination of these (693d). Both types of regime must be present in a city if there is
to be freedom, friendship, and prudence (693e). The Persian regime exemplifies
monarchy whereas the Athenian regime exemplifies democracy. At least initially, the
Persian and Athenian regimes were “somewhat well measured” (693e). However,
over time, the Persian regime delighted “exclusively and more than was necessary” in
monarchy, whereas the Athenian regime delighted more than was necessary in
freedom (693e). Both simple regimes, in other words, degenerated into the respective
extremes of despotism and anarchy. The Athenian Stranger’s quest is to understand
the causes for this change (694a).
Under Cyrus, the Persian rulers allowed for a proper degree of freedom. As a
result, the soldiers were friendlier with the generals and faced danger more willingly.
Moreover, the king allowed for freedom of speech and allowed anyone who
possessed prudence to give him advice (694b). The Persian regime prospered (694b).
Even though the regime was not mixed, it was moderate because the rulers checked
themselves on account of their education.
However, this moderation did not last. Corruption set in on account of Cyrus’
failure to educate his children (694c). He left the education of his children to the
226 The emphasis on learning from (historical) example or experience is similar to the physician, who gains his expertise in part through experience.
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women in the household while preoccupying himself with military affairs and
acquiring wealth. The women spoilt the children and praised them excessively; no
one was allowed to oppose the children in anything (694e). When the children took
over after Cyrus’ death, they were “bursting with luxury and lack of restraint” (659b).
One of Cyrus’ sons, Cambyses, killed the other son Smerdis because he could not
bear to share authority (695b).227 The Medes subsequently destroyed his kingdom
(695b).
After Cambyses, Darius made an attempt to reinstate the regime. Darius was
not the son of a king and was not brought up in luxury and indulgence (695c).228 He
divided his rule into seven parts with seven members, himself being one of them. He
governed by establishing laws and instituted the tribute promised to the Persians by
Cyrus.229 In this way, Darius brought friendship and community among all the
Persians. Darius’ son Xerxes was again educated in a royal way and acquired the
same immoderate habits as Cambyses (695d-e). After Xerxes, so continues the
Athenian Stranger, there has arisen hardly any great king (695e).
The cause of corruption in the monarchical regime, so concludes the Athenian
Stranger, is the education children receive in wealthy and powerful families. No man
can be virtuous if he has been brought up spoilt, unopposed, and with his every desire
catered for. In Sparta, honor and training was distributed equally between the wealthy
227
2
Herodotus tells the story in more detail, Hist. III.27-37.228
2
Darius was elected king by his five fellow conspirators against the two Magi who secretly had secretly usurped the Persian monarchy, Hist. III.86.229
2
According to Herodotus, the law exempted the Persians from paying taxes, Hist. III. 97. Before the reign of Darius, during the reigns of Cyrus and Cambyses, tribute was not regulated, Hist. III. 89.
103
and the poor, the ruler and the ruled. The only distinction made was based on virtue,
and only if it included moderation (696b). The immoderateness of the Persian kings
meant that they increasingly deprived the people of freedom (697c). They brought in
“more despotism than is appropriate” (697c). As a result, the friendship in the city
turned into hatred (697d). Soldiers were no longer willing to fight in the defense of
the city and all that was noble and honorable in the city was no longer praised. The
solution, as we will see, is distribution of power to those people who are educated by
the city and elected largely by their peers or based on wealth.
The case of Athens demonstrates the development towards the other extreme,
namely, license or anarchy. Initially, Athens lived in obedience to the laws on account
of awe (aidós) (698d; 699c).230 Earlier in the discussion, the Athenian Stranger had
praised awe as the greatest sort of fear. It is the fear of opinion, “when we think we
will be considered evil if we say or do something that is not noble” (646e). On
account of their awe, the Athenians were willing to live as “slaves” to the ancient
laws (698b). The fear of pending Persian invasion made the Athenians even more law
abiding and consolidated the friendship among them (698b-c). They banded together
and were able to defend themselves (699c).
However, the Athenian regime corrupted, starting with the laws that regulated
music and poetry.231 Initially, those with knowledge determined how the songs were
performed and those who disobeyed instructions were punished (700c). The audience
230
2
The Athenian Stranger’s account starts with the Persian expedition against Athens, cf. Herodotus, Hist. VI.94 ff.231
2
The emphasis on music and poetry as major educational forces is evident also in the Republic, where music is considered especially important because it “penetrates more deeply into the inner soul than anything else does” (401d).
104
did not dare to interrupt the performance. Those who were educated listened in
silence, while the children and the majority of the people remained orderly by the
threat of force (700c). Over time, the poets became rulers over the arrangements of
music (700d). The poets lacked knowledge: they “were ignorant about what is just
and lawful for the Muses” (700d). As a result, they “involuntarily falsified music”
(700e). Overwhelmed by pleasure the poets claimed that there was no such thing as
correct music. They judged music by “the standard of the pleasure it gives to whoever
enjoys it” (700e). In this way, the poets instilled lawlessness in the people (700e). The
people became fearless and, in the absence of fear they became shameless
(anaischuntía) (701a-b2). They no longer feared the opinion of someone who is
better. This kind of freedom is no longer orderly and, therefore, not really freedom at
all. The next step in the escalation towards complete freedom was the loss of
willingness to be enslaved to the rulers (701b). Following this, they lost the respect
for their parents and elders (701b), the laws (701c) and oaths and promises (710c).
Order is maintained not merely by rule but also by the hierarchical relationships that
pervade the city. Freedom without this kind of order is license, which destroys the
friendship and community of the city.
The Athenian Stranger concludes that when either regime – the Persian or the
Athenian – “was limited within measure, affairs went outstandingly well; but when
either marched on to its extreme – the one to slavery and the other to the opposite –
there was no advantage in either case” (701e). The question is how the collapse into
one extreme can be prevented. The answer lies in a distribution that hits the mean
between the two mother regimes of monarchy and democracy.
105
5.5 The Regime of Magnesia
5.5.1 The Mean in Government (VI.756e-758a)
The selection of magistrates is described as one that strikes a mean (méson) between a
monarchic and a democratic regime (756e). This is the mean the regime should
always aim for (756e). The mean that the Athenian Stranger refers to is the geometric
mean, which counts all elements according to their worth, rather than the arithmetic
mean, which counts all elements equal. The two means apply to two kinds of
equalities (757b-758a). The first sort of equality means equality in number and in the
regime this kind of equality is applied by a system of lot. The second kind of equality
is proportionate equality, which awards greater honors to virtue and lesser honors to
those who are lesser in regards to virtue and education (757c). Proportionate equality
produces friendship in the regime, whereas lack of proportionate equality produces
civil strife (757a). The regime that distributes honors according to proportionate
equality could be called an aristocracy, although the Athenian Stranger does not use
this term.232
The regime proposed by the Athenian Stranger is according to proportionate
equality and arithmetical equality. The latter makes the system less just. It results in
justice only by chance (757e). However, the many become discontent when they are
left out of power. Therefore, “necessity compels every city to blur sometimes the
232
2
The Athenian Stranger only uses the term aristocracy (aristokratía) when describing the regime selected by the men who look over the customs of clans (681d). The best regime has no specific name (712d).
106
distinction between these two [equalities]” (757d-e).233 The Athenian Stranger
recommends that the equality of lot should be employed as rarely as possible.
5.5.2 The Selection of Officers
The following survey of proposed institutions shows how the combination of the
geometric and arithmetic mean plays out for Magnesia. Even though the system of lot
plays a role in the election of several officers, there is an overall bias towards given
power to people based on their competence. The Athenian Stranger generally skews
the appointments towards the upper property classes. He does so because, in large
part, the wealthy have greater opportunity to practice virtue in the city.
Out of all the institutions in Magnesia, the assembly is the most democratic.
The assembly elects officers and shares in decisions about accusations against the
public (767e-8a), makes awards of merit (921e-943c), decides on changes in law
regarding sacrifices and dances (772d), and decides on miscellaneous issues such as
the extension of the term of residence for foreigners (850d). All the members of the
city may enter the assembly (764a) or, rather, all those who are or have been
members of the armed services may enter it (753b). Since the armed service is
compulsory for all men who have reached twenty years of age (758b), we may
assume that both groups overlap almost completely.234 Women can hold office in
Magnesia as well once they are over forty years of age (785b). A woman can be part
of the military after she has borne children and until she is fifty years old (785b;
804e-5d). 233
2
Emphasis are mine.234
2
Morrow (1960), 157.
107
Despite being Magnesia’s most democratic institution, the assembly has a bias
towards the upper property classes.235 In Magnesia there are four property classes.
The basic unit is the value of one’s lot, including the tools and animals necessary for
the cultivation of the lot (744d-745a). The limit of poverty is the measure for one
allotment and the lawgiver allows one person to acquire up to four times this amount
(744e). Any surplus shall be given to the city and the gods (745a). Attendance to the
assembly is compulsory for the first and second property classes, and there is a fine
for absence.236 The third and fourth classes need not attend unless the magistrates
announce that full attendance is necessary (764a).
Next to the assembly, there is the council. Among the significant duties of the
council members is the summoning and dissolving of the assembly, the guardianship
of the city, and the reception of heralds and ambassadors (935b). The council
members serve for one year. They are three hundred sixty in total, thirty for each of
the twelve subdivisions (756b). They are distributed over the four property classes,
with ninety councilmen elected from each of the classes.237 In the election procedure,
180 members are nominated by ballot from each class and half of these are selected
by lot (756e). Again, the differences in property are recognized. The council is
elected by the assembly and all assembly members are required to vote for the men
235
2
In the Athenian constitution there were four classes as well (cf. 698b). However, these were differentiated according to annual income, whereas the classes in Magnesia are according to property. Morrow (1960), fn.118, 136.236
2
There was no such compulsion in ancient Athens. On the contrary, the Athenians adopted the device of paying citizens for attendance at the assembly, which was beneficial for attracting the poor. Aristotle, Constitution of Athens, ed. Stephen Averson, transl. Benjamin Jowett (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), XLI.3; LXII.2.237
2
This is distinct from the arrangement in Athens, where the council was constituted by tribes not property classes, Morrow (1960), 165. Aristotle, Const. of Athens: VIII.2-8.
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from the highest and the second highest class, with a fine for abstention (756c). Then,
anyone who wishes may vote for men from the third class. But while the assembly
members of the three upper classes are compelled to vote with a fine for those who
abstain, assembly members of the fourth class are exempted (756c-d). Assembly
members of the two upper classes are compelled to vote for the fourth class, whereas
any assembly member from the third and the fourth class who does not want to vote is
exempt for the fine (756d). Moreover, the fines are staged according to property class.
Anyone from the second class not voting for men from the fourth class will pay triple
the fine; anyone from the first class pays quadruple the fine (756e). The fine is thus
particularly high for the first and second classes on the day that the members of the
poorest class are nominated.
Next to the assembly and the council, there are those offices that take care of
the city’s military affairs. The generals played an important role for the city.238 They
are selected from a list drawn up by the guardians of the laws (nomophylakoi) – an
important office that discussed below. From these nominees, anyone those who took
part in warfare or who are ready to do so may vote (755c). The three who win the
most votes are to be made generals (755d). Next, the city needs infantry and cavalry
commanders. Two cavalry commanders are to be elected in the same way as the
generals with the exception that the infantry cannot vote (756b). The rank
commanders are nominated by the generals and elected by those who bear shields
only (756a). The generals appoint the leaders of lightly armed troops and any
238
2
In ancient Athens, the generalship was an office of great political importance because they advised the council about matters of the public welfare and military affairs, Morrow (1960), 180.
109
auxiliary forces (756a). In short, the selection of military officials recognizes
experience and competence.
Besides military personel, there are a large number of magistrates who ensure
the proper management of affairs in the city. The city, market and country regulators
are chosen by a combination of lot and voting. The city regulators take care of the
policing and protection of the city proper, they see to it that the streets are kept clean
and that no one damages the buildings and fountains (759a, 764b). The city regulators
are to be three in number, selected by lot from a list of six previously established by
voting by the assembly (763d-e). They belong to the highest property class, in large
part because their duties are time consuming (763d). The market regulators are
responsible for the civic center or agora. Ten are to be chosen by the assembly from
the second and first classes out of which five will be selected by lot (763e). The field
regulators are concerned with protecting and policing the country outside the city,
guarding the land against enemies, protecting the land with fortifications and ditches,
keeping the roads smooth and ensuring proper water regulation (760e-761c). They
also act as judges (761e). The field regulators live moderately, attending the common
meals and developing a taste for humble and uncooked food. They are selected as
follows. Each tribe is to select five men, and each of these groups of five men selects
another twelve young men, resulting in seventeen field regulators per tribe (760b-c).
They are to rotate every month over the twelve tribal districts. This provides them
with the opportunity to gain knowledge of the entire country (760d). According to the
Athenian Stranger, the combination of lot and voting, benefits friendship in the city.
110
The only office selected exclusively by lot is the priests and priestesses. This
may appear curious, but the Athenian Stranger seems to want to place the selection of
priests and priestess into the god’s hand. The choice should be left to “the divine
chance of lottery” (759c). This method can be understood as an opportunity for
receiving divine guidance rather than giving into the necessity of allowing the many
to have an equal chance to this office. The priests and priestesses are selected for the
term of one year. Only those over sixty years of age are eligible (759d). The tribes
elect the interpreters of the divine (759d). The treasurers of the temple are elected
from the highest property class (760a).
The office that is “the greatest of the highest offices in the city” is the
Supervisor of Education (765d-e). He should be a man not less than fifty years of age,
a father of legitimate children, and judged to be preeminent (765d-e). He should be
the best person in the city in every respect (766b). He is chosen from among the
guardians of the laws by all magistrates except the council and the presidents (766b).
Like all other officials, the supervisor of education is scrutinized. He rules for five
years (766c).
The selection of the guardians of the laws deserves special attention. They
serve the important job of looking after the laws. If they are unfit, “then not only
would the laws no longer be well founded, and the situation most ridiculous, but those
very laws would be likely to bring the greatest harm and ruin to cities” (751b-c). They
see to it that the officers obey the instructions laid down for them. They supervise the
other officers. They also have legislative authority and important judicial functions.
At the founding of the colony, thirty-seven men are to be selected: nineteen from the
111
colonists and the remaining eighteen from Knossos. Kleinias, so states the Athenian
Stranger, is to be one of the eighteen. Those who possess heavy weapons, cavalry or
infantry, as well as those who have taken part in war as long as their age allowed are
eligible to participate in the selection process (735b). The voting process is elaborate
(753c-735d). One hundred Knossians and a selection of one hundred of the oldest and
best men from among the colonists must together supervise the selection of the first
guardians (754c-d). The guardians of the laws rule for no more than twenty years and
the minimum age for election is fifty years (755a). They possess great authority on
account of their age, prestige and experience.239
Three important offices remain. First, the auditors (euthynoi) fulfill the critical
function of holding people accountable for their actions in office (946c). For this
great responsibility, the attempt must be made to find men “superior in virtue” (945c).
The auditors are selected by the entire city that presents three men from among them
(945e-6a). Each of these three men is to propose a man at least fifty years of age
whom he considers excellent (946a). A vote is taken and half of the nominees who
receive the most votes are selected (946a). In the first year, twelve auditors are
selected in this manner. Afterward three are to be added each year (946c). The
procedure is not democratic and emphasis is placed on the virtue of the auditors. Still,
all citizens participate in the voting process and there are no qualifications other than
age.
Second, there are the judges who fill the courts (956b-958c). The first of the
judicial courts are those of the chosen judges whom the defendant and prosecutor
239
2
Cf. Morrow (1960), 198.
112
select in common (956b-c). The second are those composed of villagers and
tribesmen who are selected by lot (956e). Most violations of the law are judged by the
various magistrates. “Every magistrate must also be a judge in some matters.” (767a)
Third, there is the so-called nocturnal council. This is a body of men that
meets each day from dawn until the sun rises (951d). They discuss the laws and the
city (952a) and theoretical issues such as how virtue is both many and one, the proofs
that exist concerning the gods, the orderly motion of stars, intelligence as master of
the whole, and the priority in being of the soul over the body. Just like physicians
know health, the statesman – members of the nocturnal council – should know the
end of the city (962b). The nocturnal council is sovereign, not ruled by law (969a).
The nocturnal council is composed of priests who have obtained prizes for
excellence, ten guardians of the laws who are eldest at the time, and the former and
current supervisor of education. Each of these is to bring a man between thirty and
forty years old, who will be judged worthy by the rest and who participate in the
discussions (951d-e; 961b).
By creating a bias towards the upper property classes throughout the different
institutions and offices, the Athenian Stranger emphasizes the attendance and voting
by men who have both the ability and the leisure to look after the affairs of the city
(763d). In book VII, the Athenian Stranger describes how a free man should spend his
time. Matters pertaining to crafts and trade are handed over to foreigners and slaves
working the farms (806d-e). This leaves the free man with ample time to dedicate to
politics as well as his household, both day and night (808b). Moreover, men with
more property have a higher stake in the welfare and defense of the city.
113
The connection between virtue and property is evident in the Athenian
Stranger’s discussion of the different professions as well. It would not be appropriate
for a free man to be a craftsman (846d) or a trader or inns keeper (919d). There are
several ways in which the city is shielded from the corrupting influences of excessive
wealth. The Guardians of the Laws impose limits on profits (920c). All foreign
commerce is strictly controlled and there is no import of luxuries. Moreover, there is
no export of necessities, which limits the profit the landowning citizenry can make
(847b-d). Money lending is excluded and all exchange must be for cash or barter
(742c, 849e, 915e). Also, the possession of gold or silver by private persons is
forbidden (742a-b). The Athenian Stranger limits the practice of trade to resident
aliens or strangers so that trade does the least harm to the city (920a).
The best source of income for a virtuous people comes from the land; farming
promotes moderation and leisure time. Every head of household in Magnesia owns a
plot of land that in normal years and when tended diligently will yield a return
sufficient for himself and his family (842c-d). The farmer has days off when he is
waiting for his crop to grow. Moreover, slaves ensure leisure time for most
landowners (805e-808b). The presence of slaves eased the work on the farm and
liberated owners from manual duties. It is clear, however, that the full-time practice
of virtue in the city is only an option for the few. Many free men work the soil or are
shepherds or beekeepers (842d). They have less time to accept the burdens of public
duties.
114
5.6 Conclusion In this chapter, I argued that rather than using Polybius’ theory of regimes to
understand the Athenian Stranger’s regime in the Laws, the latter is better understood
on its own terms as a mixed regime that is the result of a measured distribution of
power rather than a combination of three simple regimes which each remain distinct.
In order to fully grasp the concept of the mixed or measured regime, it is
useful to pay attention to the language that is shared with the medical profession, such
as mixture, due measure, powers and the mean. Hippocratic medicine defined health
as a balance between opposite elements and their powers in the body.240 In like
manner, the Magnesian regime can be understood as holding a balance between the
opposites of democracy and monarchy, preventing each to deteriorate into the
extremes of anarchy and tyranny. A mixture of both principles ensures stability and
the preservation of the regime. This mixture apportions power according to
competence while at the same time making allowances for the system of lot. The
result is a judicious and complex array of selecting the different offices and
institutions. The emphasis is on the balance that results from this mixture.
As the discussion of the origin of cities, Sparta, Persia, and Athens shows, the
expertise to acquire this exact balance is in part acquired through the study of
example or through experience, both in the medical and legislative profession.
We now turn to the next medical imagery in the Laws, which deal with the
nature of persuasion that takes place in the city.
240 See Chapter 2.5 of this dissertation
115
CHAPTER 6
PERSUASION
6.1 Introduction
This chapter deals with two medical images, both of which concern persuasion in the
city. The first comes from the traditional art of healing and is a metaphor that
describes musical education as a charm that enchants the members of the city.241 The
second is the medical analogy that compares the lawgiver to the free physician who
persuades his patients before commanding them to obey a new regimen. This chapter
analyzes each image in turn.
In the Laws, musical tunes are called charms that enchant the citizens. The
Athenian Stranger says that the songs (oidaí) are really charms (epoidaí) for souls
(659d-e). Charms or epoidaí are commonly connected with magic or sorcery. They
are the spells by which the sorcerer charms snakes or drives away diseases and, in
traditional medicine, illnesses subside when evil spirits are appeased by the recitation
of a charm. The question is whether the charms by which the lawgiver persuades the
citizens to obey the law are genuinely magical or whether the Athenian Stranger
presents us with a rational version of musical magic.242
241
2
Chapter 2.3 of this dissertation.242
2
Cf. E. Lippman, Musical Thought in Ancient Greece (New York: Columbia Press, 1964), 85.
116
The opinions in the scholarly literature about this issue are divided.243 On the
one hand, there are scholars who argue that music is really a means of manipulation
and indoctrination of the members of the city. For example, Karl Popper argues that
music in the Laws is part of the collectivist practices that ensure political stability at
the expense of individual freedom.244 Randall Baldwin Clark also argues that music is
part of a politics of manipulation.245 According to Clark, musical charms put a spell
on the people.246 The Athenian Stranger’s musical charms are similar to the traditional
methods of magical healing by priests and shamans. Clark argues that the citizens are
charmed into obedience in order to create room in the city for rational, philosophical
activity by the lawgiver.247 The citizens are manipulated not for their own benefit but
for the benefit of philosophy.248
On the other hand, there are scholars who argue that music is part of rational
education in the city. Christopher Bobonich argues that music fulfills an important
educational role in helping the citizens become virtuous.249 Virtue in the Laws,
according to Bobonich, is a cognitive achievement.250 Correct music helps the citizen
243
2
The Greeks themselves were ambiguous about persuasion. The word we translate as “persuade” is the active voice (peítho) of the verb whose passive voice (peíthomai) means “obey” or “trust,” and can imply getting a person to do what you want by the use of almost any means short of physical compulsion, Morrow (1953), 253-6. 244
2
Popper (1966).245
2
Clark (2003).246
2
Clark (2003), 22.247
2
Clark (2003), 154.248
2
The problem with Clark’s argument is that the lawgiver writes a legal code applying to both rulers and ruled (Laws, 627e-628a). In Magnesia, there is no philosopher-ruler but, instead, there is the rule of law. 249
2
Bobonich (2002).
117
experience good pleasures by presenting what is fine and good in a way that is
pleasurable. The pleasures themselves are not part of what Bobonich calls “the ethical
realm.”251 Yet, the experience of pleasure “fixes the learner’s attention on what they
are experiencing and encourages them to further exploration of the activity in
question.”252 According to Bobonich, the invitation to reflect on what constitutes
goodness or fineness is what constitutes the real educational effect of music.
This chapter argues that education in music benefits the virtue of the people in
the city. Music presents man with instances of perfect harmony, which orders the
appetitive part of the soul. People are charmed into enjoying imitations of character,
postures, and words that express the fine and the good.253 The participants in choral
performances feel pleasure while imitating the noble. The chapter concurs with
Bobonich that music promotes virtue, but disagrees with Bobonich about the
definition of virtue. The argument of this chapter takes into account that virtue
concerns the lower part of the soul as much as the rational part of the soul. Music
orders the lower part of the soul so that it becomes more accepting of correct opinion,
law, or reason. Hence, music promotes harmony between the different parts of the
soul.
The second part of this chapter deals with the physician-lawgiver analogy in
Book IV, which establishes the need for legislative preambles. The argument is that
Throughout Plato’s Utopia Recast, Bobonich relies on a strictly rationalistic conception of virtue. Virtue, according to his account, is a cognitive achievement. However, Bobonich ignores that virtue in the Laws is specifically defined as consonance between the rational and appetitive part of the soul, or even consonance between the appetitive part of the soul and the law in the absence of mature reason (653b). Cf. Kahn (2004), 348.251
2
Bobonich (2002), 364.252
250
2
Bobonich (2002), 362.253
2
This is the so-called ethos theory of music.
118
the legislative preambles act like charms as well. The preambles are intended to put
the citizen in the mood to receive the legislative command, like a musical prelude
puts the listener in the mood of the main piece, and just like a physician coaxes his
patient to receive medication more willingly. The preambles persuade the member of
the city with arguments that appeal to his more noble desires in order to make him
willing to follow the legislative command more readily.
The chapter has two parts. In the first part, there is a discussion of the concept
of harmony in Greek music and an explanation of how harmony is expressed in the
city and in the soul in the Laws. The second part of the chapter explores the analogy
between the lawgiver and the physician who persuades his patient before
commanding him. This part of the chapter includes a discussion of the legislative
preambles, by which the lawgiver tames the people in the city into obedience.
6.2 Virtue and Music
6.2.1 Harmony in Greek Music
Music is of great educational value because it promotes harmony in the soul. In
ancient Greece, the idea of harmony in music was considered of greatest interest and
importance.254 Harmony means fitting together and the basic prerequisite is the
existence of two or more distinguishable entities that are somehow capable of mutual
adjustment.255 Music contains the concept of harmony in the internal adjustment of
the opposites of high and low tones. This internal adjustment takes place with
254
2
M. L. West, Ancient Greek Music (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992), 177.255
2
Lippman (1964), 2.
119
measure and proportion. Pitch was axiomatically associated with number and
consonances with ratios.256
Different philosophers, most notably the Pythagoreans, contributed to the
development of musical philosophy. The Pythagorean understanding is that harmony
accounted for the problem of the existence of an ordered world in the midst of
conflict and opposition.257 “High and low pitches were resolved in an “attunement”
that resolved their opposition, for each was related to the other in due measure.”258
The Pythagorean argument is that music (and mathematics) presented the soul with
pure instances of harmony. Pythagoras himself prescribed appropriate music for each
specific type of mental disturbance, against the passions, despondency, and
lamentation.259 He thought that movements in each piece of music produced similar
movements in the soul, which explains its importance for moral life. By the time of
Plato, the scientific conception of harmony and music was well established.260
As we have seen, the concept of harmony also plays a role in the medical
field.261 The Hippocratic physicians considered medicine as the art of restoring and
maintaining harmony between opposite elements or powers in the body. In the
Symposium, Eryximachus argues that the physician’s task is to effect reconciliation
256
2
Lippman (1964), 18.257
2
L. Harap, “Some Hellenic Ideas on Music and Character,” Musical Quarterly 24, no. 2 (1938), 154.258
2
Harap (1938), 154.259
2
Harap (1938), 155.260
2
Lippman (1964), 19.261
2
The Hippocratic writings most relevant to this particular understanding of health are Regimen and Airs, Waters, Places, and Regimen.
120
between the basic bodily elements (186d). The elements that are opposed to one
another are such like hot and cold, bitter and sweet, wet and dry. The underlying
thought is that nature is everywhere made up of opposites that need to be reconciled
with one another into a higher harmony. Plato has Eryximachus argue that medicine
is “precisely the same” as both poetry and music (187a). The expert musician “creates
a harmony by resolving the prior discord between high and low notes” (187b).
“Music, like medicine, creates agreement by producing concord and love between
these various opposites” (187c).
Both musical harmony and physical harmony assume a continuous process of
readjustment. The internal equilibrium of the body is under continuous influence from
its environment such as the climate and the food it ingests. Harmony in music
consists of continuous adjustment of high and low tones. Health means that the body
is capable of maintaining the equilibrium or right proportion between the different
elements in the midst of changing circumstances.
The Athenian Stranger translates this principle of attunement to the realm of
virtue and politics. As we will see below, virtue in the Laws is defined as a balanced
equilibrium between the different elements of the soul. Virtue depends on the
continuous adjustment between reason and the appetites under the influence of
different stimuli from the environment. For most people, this continuous adjustment
takes place not with prudence but under the influence of law, which communicates
reasoned calculation of the different pleasures and pains.
6.2.2 Virtue and the Law
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Virtue in the Laws depends on consonance between the higher and lower part of the
soul. Before explaining how music promotes consonance in the soul, a note on the
relationship between virtue and law. The key to happiness is a proper mixture of the
opposites of pleasure and pain: “These two springs flow forth by nature, and he who
draws from the right one, at the right time, and in the right amount, is happy; the same
holds for a city and for a private individual and for every animate thing. But he who
does so without knowledge and at the wrong time lives a life that is just the opposite”
(636d-e). The proper mixture requires prudence. The individual needs to know when
to indulge in pleasure or pain, in what amount, and with respect to what. However,
this kind of measured insight is difficult for most if not all people. Most, if not all,
people need guidance from the law.
The puppet image illustrates the relationship between the law and the soul.
The image introduces the rational or “calculating” power into the definition of
virtue.262 Man possesses within himself “two opposed and imprudent counselors,
which we call pleasure and pain” (644c). Connected to pleasure and pain are opinions
about what will happen. Fear is the expectation of pain, and boldness is the
expectation of pleasure. “Over all these is calculation (logismós) as to which of them
is better and which worse – and when this calculation becomes the common opinion
of the city, it is called law” (644d). Kleinias and Megillus have a hard time following,
so the Athenian Stranger offers them an image of man as a divine puppet. The
passions (tà páthe) pull within man like tendons or cords, “drawing us and pulling
against one another in opposite directions toward opposing deeds, struggling in the
262
2
Cf. H. Görgemanns, “Beiträge zur Interpretation von Platons Nomoi,” in Zetemata 25 (Munich: Verlag C. H. Beck, 1960), 122.
122
region where virtue and vice lie separated from one another” (644e). The puppet is
continuously subject to different pulls generated by the environment. Pleasure and
pain, which are called “imprudent counselors,” draw the puppet in opposing and
arbitrary directions. Pleasure and pain cannot distinguish between a right (virtuous) or
wrong choice, although some combinations of pleasure and pain will be closer to
virtue than others.263 There is a struggle in “the region where virtue and vice lie
separated from each other” (644e). Without calculation, however, it would be pure
chance if the puppet responds to the right pull of pleasure or pain, at the right time,
and in the right amount.
There is one cord that is golden and that represents the pull of calculation. The
puppet should always follow this cord, not letting go of it and pulling with it against
the others. It assists the puppet in making measured choices. This cord is the law of
the city. In the calculation represented by the law, there is a reference to a quality or
value, instead of mere quantities.264 The cord is “sacred” and “noble” (645a). The
golden cord clearly represents measure that is not intrinsic to pleasure and pain but,
instead, stands over it. It measures not in quantity – maximizing pleasure and
minimizing pain – but in quality, in terms of the appropriate, the suitable, and
ultimately, the virtuous.265
263
2
Krämer (1959), 147. The Athenian Stranger is much more awareness of the grey area in between virtue and vice, where the puppet struggles and does not quite hit the target of perfect virtue. There is more recognition of the idea that falling short of perfect virtue is a human phenomenon than in other Platonic dialogues. 264
2
Here lies the main distinction between Plato’s theory of law and a modern theory of law such as Jeremy Bentham’s. According to Plato’s puppet image, the law makes a calculation with reference to a quality or value (the appropriate, the suitable, the fitting). The utilitarian calculation in Bentham’s theory is with reference to mathematical quantity only (intensity, duration, certainty, propinquity, the number of persons to whom it extends), not quality. See Jeremy Bentham, The Principles of Morals and Legislation (New York: Prometheus, 1988), chapter IV.
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If the puppet cooperates with calculation, i.e. the law, then one is superior to
oneself (645b). Self-mastery thus involves cooperation by the inferior part of the soul
with the superior part of the soul. Education involves not the repression of the lower
part of the soul, but instead the appetites are trained so that they form agreement with
correct opinion or law.266 The image of the puppet illustrates the problem of political
rule, which is dissonance between the higher and lower powers of the soul.267 Music
works to facilitate consonance.
6.2.3 Three Levels of Virtue
Before we turn to music, one should note that there are three levels of virtue in the
Laws. The whole of virtue is also called “perfect justice” (630c). This, however, is a
rather high ideal. In the Laws, there are three levels of virtues. The first is a kind of
natural virtue that is present in children and animals alike. The warriors praised by the
poet Tyrtaeus may be mercenaries who are fearless in the way beasts are fearless
(630b). This kind of natural courage lacks judgment about what to fear and what not
to fear. There is also a kind of natural moderation. In book IV, the Athenian Stranger
mentions the tyrant who ideally orders the city according to law. The best tyrant will
be young and is “magnificent by nature” (709e). He is necessarily moderate, but his
moderation is of the sort “that blooms naturally, from the beginning, in children and
beasts, and by which some lack self-restraint with regard to pleasures while others
In a later passage, law is defined as “the distribution ordained by intelligence” (714a). Cf. the Statesman (284e). 266
265
2
Görgemanns (1960), 120.267
2
Krämer (1959), 147.
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possess self-restraint” (710a). Natural moderation is disassociated from prudence
(710a).
Natural virtue is carefully distinguished from philosophical virtue that
includes prudence: “[W]hen we assert both to be the one, virtue, we then refer to
them again as two, as courage and as prudence. For I’ll tell you the reason: it’s
because the one – courage – is concerned with fear, and even the beasts share in it, as
do the dispositions, at least of the very young children [this is natural virtue]. For soul
becomes courageous without reason and by nature, but on the other hand, without
reason soul never has, does not, and never will become prudent and possessed of
intelligence – for that is a different entity” (963e). It is, however, rare to find
prudence, or even true opinions, in man (653a).
This premise, that it is rare to find prudence in man, lies at the foundation of
the third level of virtue, which is the main focus of the Laws. This is the kind of virtue
that is neither natural, nor philosophical but ‘civic’ because it is instilled by education
in conformity with the laws.268 The third kind of virtue presupposes piety and
obedience to the law. Piety and obedience to the law are necessary in the absence of
prudence. Moreover, civic virtue requires the training of the lower part of the soul,
hence the emphasis, in Book I and II, on customs that train the citizen in courage and
moderation. Both music and the preambles play a role in educating the citizen to
become more amendable to the injunctions of the laws.
268
2
Cf. North (1966), 189. The emphasis on ‘civic’ virtue in the Laws does not mean that philosophical virtue is rejected. We find traces of this, for example, in the discussion of the courage of the person who judges choral performances. He should not be a coward by contradicting what he knows are the correct standards for music and give in to the pleasures and desires of the majority (the audience) (Laws, 659a-b). Holding fast to what one knows and standing firm in the face of the majority is a philosophical rather than a civic virtue.
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6.2.4 Music as Education
Education, so states the Athenian Stranger at the beginning of Book II of the Laws,
concerns the correct arrangement in the soul of pleasure and liking, pain and hatred.
This kind of education is relevant for the child who is not yet able to reason (635a).
Education prepares a child for virtue by ordering the lower part of the soul. The child
learns to hate what he ought to hate and to love what he ought to love (635b). Once
the soul becomes capable of reasoning, the passions can “in consonance (symphonía)
with reason” affirm that they have been correctly habituated in the appropriate habits
(635a-b). This consonance in its entirety is virtue. Not all people, however, acquire
prudence and true opinion. In fact, “as for prudence, and true opinions that are firmly
held, he is a fortunate person to whom it comes even in old age” (653a). The
education that is central to Book 2 of the Laws is the training of the pleasures and
pains to become amenable to the calculation of the law. Education is “the drawing
and pulling of children toward the argument that is said to be correct by the law and is
also believed, on account of experience, to be really correct by those who are most
decent and oldest” (659d). The citizen’s feelings must be aligned to assist the law, so
that – following the puppet image – all the cords pull in the same direction.269
The proposition in Book 2 is that music or, more specifically, the participation
in choral performances serves to educate the lower part of the soul. This kind of
education should continue from young into old age. The whole city - man and child,
free and slave, female and male – must sing and dance every day of their lives (665c,
269
2
Cf. G. Naddaf, “Literacy and Poetic Performance in Plato’s Laws,” Ancient Philosophy 20 (2000): 343.
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cf. 803e). The Athenian Stranger ordains that in Magnesia there will be a religious
festival for every day of the year, and most of these festivals involve choral
performances alongside religious sacrifices (828b). Choral performances combine
singing and dancing (654b).
How do the choral performances prepare the consonance between the lower
and the higher part of the soul? First of all, the Athenian Stranger’s premise is that
human beings have the natural ability to respond to the order inherent in musical
harmony and rhythms. The Athenian Stranger observes that the young are incapable
of remaining calm but always move around and scream in a disorderly manner (653d-
e). “During the time in which it [a living being] lacks the prudence that is proper to it,
every being is completely mad and cries out in a disorderly way; as soon as it can
stand by itself, it jumps in a disorderly way” (672c). Animals remain disorderly, but
human beings are endowed with “the pleasant perception of rhythm and harmony”
(654a). With the assistance of the gods – the Muses, Apollo and Dionysus - they have
the ability to transform their natural disorderliness into a sense of order. Training in
choral performances belongs to the essence of educating the lower part of the soul
because it strengthens man’s natural ability to perceive and enjoy rhythm and
harmony. It works on the child’s ability to respond to the order inherent in harmony
and rhythms. This kind of education prepares the soul to feel pleasure when
perceiving order.
However, not all music constitutes correct education. Not all music prepares
the lower part of the soul to become responsive to reason. It is essential that the
choral performances enjoyed by the participants are ‘correct’ performances. For the
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lawgiver, the main objective is to link the pleasurable with the rationally fine – the
virtuous – in character, posture, and words. The Athenian Stranger is well aware that
for many people there is a disjunction between the two. The person who is well
educated in choral performances may not fully understand what is expressed in music
but he enjoys or hates it fully. This person is better educated in choral performances
than the one who can give an adequate expression to what is understood, but who
does not love the fine things nor hates the ignoble things (654c). This kind of
education is not rational but prepares the soul for enjoyment of the rational.
The danger of incorrect music is that it fosters dissonance between the higher
and lower parts of the soul. The person who, by nature, character, or habituation, is
unable to delight in correct music will pronounce it ugly. Those who take delight in
ignoble music may be ashamed to participate, but in private they will delight in the
wicked postures or songs. This person is “harmed in some way” (656a). There is no
greater good - for the lawgiver - than the assimilation of pleasure and virtue, and no
greater evil than the assimilation of pleasure and the wicked (659b).
In order to train the lower part of the soul to become responsive to reason and
order, choral performances have to portray what is fine and beautiful in posture,
dance, tune, and song (654e). The Athenian Stranger states that choral performances
are imitations of characters (655d). The most beautiful performances imitate the
virtuous person; virtue is the standard for beauty. It is correct, so states the Athenian
Stranger, “to call what pertains to courageous men ‘fine,’ and what pertains to
cowards ‘ugly’” (655a-b).270 All the postures that belong to the virtue of the soul or 270
2
Traditionally, the Dorian mode was perceived as dignified and manly. The Phrygian mode was appropriate for the virtue of moderation and the temperament of the ideal citizen. See Harap (1938), 15; West (1992), 179-181.
128
the body are beautiful, and all those belonging to vice are the opposite. The audience
should continually hear “about characters better than their own” (659d). By enjoying
the choral performance, the participant acquires the habit of enjoying and welcoming
the noble character. The dancing during the choral performances is mimetic or
expressive of character.271 By participating in the dance, the choral performers imitate
the virtuous person.
The Athenian Stranger’s idea that choral performances should imitate the
virtuous person goes against popular opinion. Popular opinion judges music for its
power to provide pleasure to the souls. The person “who as much as possible gives us
joy and delight is the one who should be considered wisest and judged victorious”
(657e). Popular opinion states that the beautiful things are not necessarily the same
for all, which means that there is a variety of opinion about what music should
represent (655c-d). The young would choose the man who represents puppets, the
bigger boys would enjoy the comedy, and the majority of men and women would
choose tragedy (658c-d). Overall, popular opinion expresses subjective tastes. For the
Athenian Stranger, this is not acceptable.
Instead, music must be judged by the pleasure experienced by the one
distinguished in virtue and education (659a). This person will judge performances and
will educate the audience about the correct and appropriate pleasures (659b).
Performances should not be judged by majority rule (659b). Given that music is
imitation, the judge needs to know what the thing [virtue] is, how correctly and how
well the images of it are produced in words, tunes, and rhythms (669a-b). They must
271 Naddaf (2000), 345.
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know the harmonies and rhythms, so that they choose the appropriate ones for the
appropriate people (670d; 812b-c).
The lawgiver either persuades or compels the poet to use his beautiful and
praiseworthy words to depict the postures of virtuous men (660a; 660e). The poet
who writes the words or composes the rhythm or tune should not be allowed to
compose whatever he himself finds pleasing (659c). The lawgiver will persuade or
compel the poet to “create poetry correctly by depicting in rhythms and harmonies the
postures and songs of moderate, courageous, and wholly good men” (660a). The fame
that praises human beings is pleasant. As long as the good and noble men are praised,
then it is pleasant to be good and noble. The lawgiver must use music to honor the
good and noble men. Even if the noble life is not necessarily more pleasurable, it will
still be the most profitable lie that the lawgiver can tell (663d). It is a persuasive
argument because it appeals to pleasure (663b).
The correct performances not only portray the virtuous character and postures,
they also use noble texts. The writings of the lawgiver provide the yardstick for
poetry.272 The Athenian Stranger states that the lawgiver should “seek only the
convictions which would do the greatest good for the city, and he should discover
every device of any sort that will tend to make the whole community speak about
these things with one and the same voice, as much as possible, at every moment
throughout the whole of life, in songs, and myths and arguments” (664a). The
writings of the lawgiver, giving advice about “the noble, good, and just things” are
272
2
Some argue that the actual text of the Laws is set to music, see A. Nightingale, “Historiography and Cosmology in Plato’s Laws,” Ancient Philosophy 19 (1999), 104-105; Naddaf (2000), 324. This would presumably require the separation of the dialogue from the texts (laws and preambles) that are composed by the Athenian Stranger.
130
the noblest and best (858c-e). Any writings of the poets that speak in dissonance with
the lawgiver’s writings should be laughed at (859a). The Athenian Stranger offers the
actual text of the Laws, the “speeches we’ve been going through since dawn until the
present” as the best model or yardstick for any other writings (811c).
6.2.6 Music as a Charm
Correct music, in short, facilitates enjoyment of the noble and brings about
consonance in the soul. This goes against those who argue that music is by definition
a means of manipulating the masses.273 By facilitating enjoyment of the noble,
education in music contributes to education in virtue by ordering the lower part of the
soul to feel pleasure at the right things. This concurs with Bobonich’s argument that
(correct) music contributes to the good life or, in his words, the “ethical” life.274 Yet
the argument in this chapter departs from Bobonich’s argument in that it does not
consider virtue in the Laws to be, again in Bobonich’s words, a “cognitive”
achievement but, instead, as consonance between the lower and higher part of the
soul. Correct music contributes to the good life by effectuating harmony in the soul.
The question remains why it is that the Athenian Stranger calls music a charm
(659d-e). This is a question particularly because the word “charm” has magical and,
hence, irrational connotations. The Athenian Stranger explains his word choice as
follows. People are like children who cannot sustain seriousness and who need to be
seduced to become virtuous (659e). The games and songs that take place at the
festivals fulfill this role. The Athenian Stranger compares the use of these charms to
273
2
Popper (1966); and Clark (2003).274 Bobonich (2002).
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mixing healthy nourishment with pleasant tasting foods and mixing bad foods with
unpleasant tasting food. In this way, people are habituated to love the healthy foods
and hate the unhealthy ones (659e-660a).
This process of seduction is rationalized to the extent that the Athenian
Stranger emphasizes that music is a charm that should accompany a thing of a certain
correctness and a benefit. For example, food in general is accompanied by pleasure
while its correctness and benefit is healthiness (667c). The charm refers to something
that brings about pleasure, such as music. The correctness and benefit of music is
harmony.
In the Charmides, Socrates tells us about a charm that he has learnt from a
Thracian doctor and that is supposed to cure the soul by means of beautiful words that
bring about moderation (157a) but at the end of the dialogue Socrates expresses
vexation about the charm that he took so much trouble to learn from the Thracian. In
the Laws, there is no question about the effectiveness of music as a charm. The
difference is explained by the different objectives. Socrates hopes to purge
Charmides’ soul of incorrect opinions and induce in him a desire for philosophy, both
of which concern the higher part of the soul. By contrast, the Athenian Stranger’s
concern is to influence the lower part of the soul by means of musical charms. It is
clear that this part of the soul is more susceptible to a charm.
6.3 Legislative Preambles and Persuasion
6.3.1 Legislative Preambles
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As with music, there is a debate in the secondary literature about the nature of
persuasion by legislative preambles.275 Glenn Morrow argues that the preambles are
essentially moralistic exhortations. According to Morrow, Plato is concerned with
inculcating true beliefs “as Plato thought them to be … Not many of us would really
doubt the validity of the moral principles that Plato wishes his citizens to accept and
live by; most of this doctrine is completely obvious.”276 The preambles are not
harmful but neither do they promote philosophy. There are no provisions for “the
development of what we would call the powers of reason and rational choice.”277
Morrow regrets this: “[t]he tragedy of Plato […] is not the conflict between noble
words and ignoble and treacherous intentions. It is the conflict between his desire for
the moral health of his fellowmen and the love of reason, critical reason, in human
affairs.”278 The preambles illustrate the victory of morality and the suppression of
reason in Plato’s late life.
Christopher Bobonich argues that the preambles are part of the rational
persuasion that takes place in the Laws.279 There is rational persuasion because the
275
2
This topic is of considerable interest to contemporary political scientists, who are interested in legislative preambles for reasons of democratic legitimacy or because of concerns about the potential misuse of judicial power. See Susan Rose-Ackerman, Rethinking the Progressive Agenda: The Reform of the American Regulatory State. New York: Free Press (1992); and Janet Hiebert, Charter Conflicts: What is Parliament’s Role? Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press (2002). Moreover, this topic is important to legal historians, who generally trace the roots of the Anglo-American tradition of law back to Roman times. The Athenian Stranger’s extensive discussion of the legislative preambles shows the Anglo-American tradition of law, which includes preambles, owes important elements to Greek sources as well. Cf. Heinz Barta, “Platons Plädoyer für Gesetzpräambeln,” Juridicum 4 (2003): 224-230.276
2
Morrow (1953), 243.277
2
Morrow (1953), 246.278
2
Morrow (1953), 244.279
2
Bobonich (2002).
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subject receives “good epistemic reasons for thinking that the principles lying behind
the legislation are true.”280 The subject receives beliefs that appeal to rational
considerations rather than beliefs that are useful but false. The physician analogy
shows, according to Bobonich, that the citizen, as a free person, deserves to be
rationally persuaded.281 Bobonich argues that the best example of this is the preamble
to the impiety law, which is particularly rational because it provides a sophisticated
account of the origin of motion.282
André Laks’ argument is closer yet again to Morrows’ argument. Laks argues
that the preambles do not present rational argumentation but rather are composed of
rhetoric of praise and blame. Laks calls the long preamble that occupies the greater
part of Book V an “impressive sermon” rather than a law.283 Some of the preambles,
according to Laks, “metamorphose into discussions of principles.”284 Yet most of the
preambles constitute a mixture of persuasion and dissuasion which appeals to the
fears and expectations of man.285
In this part of the chapter, I will argue that the preambles are meant to
persuade the people to obey the commands of the law.286 The lawgiver uses rhetoric,
280
2
Bobonich (2002), 104.281
2
Bobonich (2002), 105.282
2
Bobonich (2002), 111.283
2
A. Laks, “The Laws,” in The Cambridge History of Greek and Roman Political Thought, eds. Christopher Rowe and Malcolm Schofield (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 264.284
2
Laks (2000), 266.285
2
A. Laks, Médiation et Coercition. Pour une Lecture des “Lois” de Platon (Villeneuve d’ Ascq: Septentrion, 2005), 131.
286 For further discussions of the preambles, see Görgemanns (1960), 49-100; Morrow (1960), 552-60; D. Cohen, “Law, Autonomy, and Political Community in Plato’s Laws,” Classical Philology
134
about god, immortality, service to one’s city etc., to coax the citizen into obedience.
This coaxing is similar to the way a child is coaxed into obedience. The Athenian
Stranger draws an analogy with the physician who is asked by his patient to treat him
gently, which means that he explains and persuades the patient before treating him. In
the analogy, the patient is compared to a child, who does not fully understand and
who needs encouragement as well as argument. This kind of persuasion does not
promote rational thinking in the way that Bobonich argues it does. A child is not (yet)
capable to grasp truth or to process “good epistemic reasons for thinking that the
principles lying behind the legislation are true.”287 The preambles are meant to
persuade on an emotional level as much as or more so than on an intellectual level.
6.3.2 Legislative Preambles as Poetry
What exactly is the nature of legislative preambles, and why are they necessary?
After Kleinias has revealed to the Athenian Stranger and Megillus at the end of Book
III that he is commissioned to establish a law code for a new Cretan colony (702c-d),
the discussion turns towards a discussion about the name, location, natural resources,
and the people of the settlement. Then, in theatrical manner, the Athenian Stranger
offers in direct voice the address to the newly arrived colonists. It is an inspiring
speech with references to god, moderation, and piety, and appeals to what is noble in
man. 288 The Athenian Stranger considers the address to the newly arrived colonists to
(1993); Stalley (1994); B. Vickers, In Defence of Rhetoric (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988), 143-7. Vickers calls the preambles propaganda; Popper (1962), 139-40 argues that the preambles convey political lies.287
2
Bobonich (2002), 104.288
2
This is not the first preamble. In effect, the Athenian Stranger remarks in book IV that “everything said before consisted of our preludes to laws” (722b), and this is said to end at 734e. By
135
be a helpful example of things that the lawgiver must say but that cannot be presented
in the shape of law.
Preambles are necessary because it is in the lawgiver’s interest that the people
are as persuadable as possible with regard to virtue (718c-d). There are certain things
the lawgiver can say to make the hearer listen “in a more tame and agreeable mood”
to the practical advice or command of the law (718d, cf. 723a-b). These things do not
fit the actual law itself. These things are not commands; it is difficult to command a
person to become more agreeable. Legislative preambles are necessary to provide a
format other than law in the strict sense for taming or coaxing the members of the
city.
This format, other than law in the strict sense, is described as follows. The
Athenian Stranger compares a preamble to a “warming-up exercise,” just like a
speech or a musical piece needs some kind of introduction (722d).289 The Athenian
Stranger plays upon the Greek word for law (nómos), which is also the word for a
form of poetry or a song sung by a chorus or by soloists accompanied by a kithara (cf.
700b, 799e).290 Just like a song needs a prelude, so is the law in need of a prelude. A
legislative prelude serves a similar purpose as in music, which is to put the listener in
the mood to receive the actual command. The Athenian Stranger states explicitly that
the preamble is a “prelude” rather than an “argument” (lógos) of the law (723b1).
then, the Athenian Stranger has discussed the duties towards the gods, parents, offspring, relatives, friends, and fellow citizens, and one’s duties concerning the care for the soul and the body. For a helpful overview that lists all the preambles and the corresponding laws in the Laws, see Laks (2005), 129.
289
2
The word “preamble” comes from oratory. In the standard oratorical format, the preamble is the beginning of the speech before the statement of facts and evidence of witnesses (compare Phaedrus, 266d-e). For the comparison with a musical prelude, see Naddaf (2000), 344.290
2
Pangle (1980), bk. 4, fn. 26.
136
The Athenian Stranger does not just compare the preamble to a piece of
poetry. Rather, he goes on to make the argument that the preamble resembles a myth,
tale, or persuasive story (paramuthion) (720a).291 The Athenian Stranger is well aware
of the persuasive power of poetry. Hesiod’s poetry, for example, has an effect on the
Athenian Stranger himself (719a). The poet composes his poetry when he is inspired,
and when he is truly inspired he no longer has the possession of his senses. In this
state, the poet can contradict himself and create human beings who are opposed to
one another. Moreover, he does not know if the many things he says are true (719c).
The lawgiver needs to recognize the diversity of the subjects to which his laws apply.
However, he cannot afford to contradict himself and can only make one speech about
one subject. The lawgiver needs the poet to construct tales that appeal to a diverse
audience.
The Athenian Stranger mentions the example of burial ceremonies. The poet
can portray a wealthy woman who would praise an elaborate funeral, a thrifty and
poor man who would praise the ‘skimpy’ funeral and a “person of measure” who
would praise a ceremony of “measured size” (719e). The lawgiver, according to the
poet, would only praise the ceremony of measured size, without qualifications (719e).
However, “it isn’t sufficient to leave it at what [the lawgiver] just said, about a well-
measured size; one must tell what and how much constitutes well measured. Until
that is done you shouldn’t think that such a speech has become a law” (719e). The
lawgiver, in other words, needs to give an account about exactly what and how much
constitutes well measured.
291 Pangle (1980), bk. 4, fn. 24. My gratitude to Prof. Catherine Zuckert for alerting me to this point.
137
The lawgiver should be able to give an account. However, in practice he is
unable to tailor his command to the particulars of individuals. For example, when the
law about the actual burial ceremonies is discussed in Book 12 of the Laws, the law is
specific but does not explain. The law stipulates five minas for the funeral of a man of
the highest class, three by a man of the second class, two by a man of the third and a
mina by a man of the fourth (959d). Yet, there is no explanation as to why these
expenditures constitute measured expenditures. Instead, the poet is able to compose a
preamble that encourages the listener to spend a measured amount.
Preceding the law about burial ceremonies, the Athenian Stranger says that
people must be persuaded by the lawgiver, for example by a “noble saying” about
soul being life and body being “images of the dead” (959b).292 This saying helps to
persuade people not to waste their money on burial arrangements for their relatives
under the assumption that they would be helping the deceased by spending more.
Instead, people are urged to believe that the body is a mere lump of flesh and that the
soul of the deceased has gone on to “fulfill his own destiny” (959c). In this way,
people are encouraged to spend only a measured amount, which is moderate and
conforms to the injunctions of the actual legislative command (959d). In short, the
preamble is a form of poetry or a tale that persuades people to become more
amendable to the command of the law and to apply the law in a modest way
according to their own circumstances.
6.3.3 The Physician – Lawgiver Analogy
292
2
As Pangle points out, the word for images (eidolon) is frequently used by Homer, bk. 12, fn. 15.
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The theme of the preamble as a means of encouragement is continued in the analogy
between the lawgiver and the physician who persuades his patient before
commanding him. In the analogy, the Athenian Stranger recollects two types of
physicians. First, there is the type of physician, really a servant (huperétes) of the
physician, who takes care of slaves not of free men. This type of physician works by
following his master’s command, by observing, and by experience (720b2-4). The
slave physician does not engage in conversation with his patient. He does not receive
an account from the patient about his illness. He commands his patients like a tyrant
(720c8). The second type of physician mostly looks after free men. This physician
acquires his art by “following nature” (720b4; d3) and “communing with the patient
himself and his friends” (720d3-4). This way, the free physician “both learns
something himself from the invalids and, as much as he can, teaches the one who is
sick. He doesn’t give orders until he has in some sense persuaded; when he has on
each occasion tamed the sick person with persuasion, he attempts to succeed in
leading him back to health” (720d-e). Kleinias agrees with the Athenian Stranger that
the lawgiver should follow the double method, consisting of the preamble that aims at
persuasion and the actual law that stipulates the rules and penalties for breaking them
(720e).293
293
2
The Athenian Stranger presents the double method as novel in the art of lawmaking (722c3-4, e1-4). However, Görgemanns (1960) cites Democritus as having mentioned the idea that the law needs supplements before Plato, 52-53. Three other known precedents are the Ur-Namma code from about 2100 B. C., which is the first Babylonian document antedating the better known code of Hammurabi, the code Lipit-Ishtar of Isin (~1930 B. C.) and the Code Eshnunna (1900-1800 B. C.). All three codes contain the same prologue-laws-epilogue structure that characterizes Hammurabi’s code, the longest and most famous one in Mesopotamia. Norman Yoffee, Myths of the Archaic State: Evolution of the Earliest Cities, States, and Civilizations Cambridge: Cambridge University Press (2005): 103-109.
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The persuasion by the physician involves the “taming” of the patient (720d).
This is necessary because the patient has to submit willingly to the care of the
physician in order for the treatment to be most effective. The patient has to cooperate
with the new regimen that the physician prescribes. Important in this respect is that
the Athenian Stranger speaks of the double method as a gentle method for which a
child would beg (720a). A child, as we know, has not developed his reason to the
fullest extent (653a). A child is receptive to simple explanations, admonitions and
encouragement. The preambles function in this manner.
This interpretation, that the preambles coax the citizen into obedience, fits
with the actual preambles in the Laws.294 These tend to offer admonitions that remind
the citizen about the higher pleasures of friendship with the god, the ‘immortality’
connected with leaving behind offspring, a good reputation, and serving the city. The
preamble addressed to the newly arrived colonists, for example, glorifies humility,
orderliness, and obedience to the god. God controls the beginning and the end and the
middle of all the beings (716a). Justice is an avenger of those who forsake the divine
law by being immoderate. Following the god in humility and orderliness brings
happiness. Straying from god on account of boastfulness or mindlessness means ruin,
of one’s self, one’s household, and one’s city. The person who forsakes god will
undergo “the blameless vengeance of Justice” (716b).
The marriage preamble appeals to man’s desire for immortality (721b-d;
772e-774a). A man should marry between the ages of thirty and before he reaches
thirty-five (721b-c). A small share in immortality is reached in leaving behind
294
2
This discussion leaves out the more complicated preambles in Book IX and X.
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offspring, which in its turn leaves offspring. The children will remember and honor
their parents, and in this way a man will not lie in his grave forgotten (721c). “For
anyone voluntarily to deprive himself of this is never pious, and whoever does not
care for children and a wife does so intentionally deprive himself” (712c).
The second preamble concerning marriage refers to the interest of the city in
having mixed marriages between wealthy and less wealthy people, and between
people of different dispositions (772e-774a). The appeal is to the interest of the city,
besides the interest of the partners, even though it is “according to nature” that people
are attracted to others who are similar (773b-c). The problem is that the Athenian
Stranger anticipates that this proposal would encounter laughter and, worse, the
spiritedness of the many (773c). Therefore one must leave these things out of the law
and not apply force, but instead use “enchanting song” to persuade the citizen and
blame anyone who still aims to acquire money through marriage (773d-e).
The noblest life has more pleasure and less pain throughout. Human beings
want the pleasurable in exchange for the painful. The moderate life is “mild in every
way, with gentle pains and gentle pleasures” (733e). The unrestrained life, on the
other hand, is “intense in every way, with strong pains and strong pleasures, a life
characterized by desires that are vehement and frenzied, and loves that are as mad as
possible” (734a). In the moderate life, the pleasures and pains are fewer, smaller, and
rarer. The virtuous man defeats the man without virtue. “[W]e would assert that the
life that possesses virtue, of body or also of soul, is more pleasant than the life
possessing vice” (734d). The Athenian Stranger uses the analogy with the healthy
life: “One must understand the sickly and healthy ways of life in the very same way.
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Both have their pleasures and pains, but in a healthy life the pleasures predominate
over the pains, while sick men have more pains than pleasures” (734b-c).
These preambles appeal to higher ideals and are inspired and poetic tales
about the god or the service to the city. They serve to coax the member of the city
into obedience. The question in this part of the chapter was whether the physician
analogy raises expectations of rational persuasion and whether the actual preambles
in the Laws meet these expectations.295 As shown, the reasons provided by the
preamble are very different from rational (or philosophical) argument. Bobonich is
incorrect in arguing that the preambles are part of a rational way of persuading people
by providing “good epistemic reasons for thinking that the principles lying behind the
legislation are true.”296 Indeed, it would be surprising to find in Plato the notion that
truth can be instilled in another person’s mind. The search for truth is the activity of
the philosopher who is brought to understanding through questioning rather than
memorization of certain texts (such as the preambles). Rather, the preambles persuade
by explaining, as if to a child, why certain actions are or are not allowed. They do so
with the words of the poet, who is inspired to create tales about the city, the gods, the
soul, and the afterlife.297
6.4 Conclusion
295
2
The argument provided by Bobonich (2002) is that the preambles rationally persuade people. Nightingale (1999) argues that the preambles are not instances of rational persuasion, 118. Laks (2000) argues that the physician analogy appeals to the Socratic model of a dialectical conversation, although he adds that this ideal is not achieved in the actual preambles, 289.296
2
Bobonich (2002), 104.
297 In other words, the preambles are also not quite moralistic exhortations, as argued by Morrow (1953) or Laks (2000; 2003).
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This chapter analyzed two medical images in the Laws. The first is that of music as a
charm that brings about harmony or consonance in the soul of the members of the
city. It is argued that these charms appeal to the lower part of the soul, which
experiences the pleasures, but that they are not irrational or magical because they
facilitate harmony in the soul; they induce the lower part of the soul to cooperate with
reason or the law.
The second medical image in this chapter is the analogy between the legislator
and the physician who persuades his patient to follow treatment before commanding
him. The argument here is that the preambles are also not instances of purely rational
persuasion. Instead, they offer tales to the members of the city, persuading them just
as a child can be persuaded.
We now turn to the next and last set of medical imagery, which concerns the
disorders in the soul that lead to criminal behavior.
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CHAPTER 7
DISEASES OF THE SOUL
7.1 Introduction
As shown in the last chapter, virtue is defined in Plato’s Laws as the agreement in the
soul between its rational and appetitive part, promoted by law. This chapter addresses
the question of what happens when law fails to guide the individual and encourage
virtue. In the virtuous soul, the passions such as pleasure and pain are correctly
arranged according to reason or law. The prudent soul, the soul that has developed
reason, is able to distinguish when to give in to which pleasure or pain and in which
amount (636d-e; 732e-734e). Most people, however, do not develop prudence (653a).
For these people prudence is replaced by the law, which communicates a reasoned
calculation of the different pleasures and pains (644d).
Human beings are in constant need of law and education, because they are not
born with virtue. The Athenian Stranger states that young children do not naturally
have correctly arranged appetites for pleasures and pains (653a-c). Instead children
are naturally disorderly and chaotic. They are incapable of remaining calm in
movement or voice (653d-e; 672c, 791e-2a) and they lack intelligence and prudence
(672a). Education is essential for ordering disorderly appetites. As noted in Chapter 6
of this dissertation, the objective of education, in particular music and gymnastics, is
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to train the lower part of the soul in accordance with the law (633d; 654c, 659e).298
Education habituates people into feeling pleasure and pain at the right things (654c).
Man’s whole life should be filled with education (803e, 807c-d), because mastering
the lower part of the soul is a continuous struggle (647d), a struggle that starts with
birth and ends only with death.299 The man who is successful in his struggles is called
good, whereas the man who fails and becomes a slave to his pleasures and pains is
called bad (633e, 635c).
The education of the citizens is also crucial for the city as a whole. Education
is meant to make people feel pleasure and pain at the same things, in accordance with
the law. The result is the unification of the city on a fundamental level, namely, the
level of the soul (664a). The unity of desires eliminates the source of civil strife.300 All
should desire to become perfect citizens (643e) and young and old should feel the
same joys and fears (659d-e; 664a).
However, given that mastering the soul is a continuous struggle, defeat as well
as victory can be expected. Human nature is weak and man oftentimes fails to master
his pleasures and pains adequately (854a). The Athenian Stranger speaks of the many
diseases of the soul that naturally challenge human beings (731d; 854b). The law will
work imperfectly to guide people in their struggle since human beings created it
(853c). Moreover, some human beings are “too tough by nature” and not susceptible
to education (853d). Also, there will be domestic servants as well as strangers and
298
2
The result is civic virtue. See Chapter 6.2.3 of this dissertation.299
2
The Athenian Stranger argues that education should start even in the womb, with the correct movement of the mother (789a; 792e). 300
3
Early modern political theory disposes with the feasibility of this assumption, cf. Federalist #10.
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their slaves in the city. As non-citizens they lack the proper education, which makes
them especially susceptible to act contrary to the laws (853e).
The soul of a person who fails in his struggle against pleasure and pain
becomes disorderly and unjust. Notwithstanding the extensive education provided in
the city of Magnesia, injustice is a real possibility and poses a significant problem,
both for the individual and for the city.
The purpose of this chapter is to show how the Athenian Stranger uses
medical imagery to explain the disorders in the soul and their appropriate remedies.
The chapter analyzes the various disorders of the soul and then describes the different
kinds of punishments that apply to different crimes. The chapter ends with explaining
why medical imagery is helpful for understanding the different disorders and their
remedies.
7.2 Disorders of the Soul
7.2.1 Disorder of the Constitutive parts of the Soul
According to the Athenian Stranger, there is a natural order of the soul. The soul is
ordered when “the opinion about what is best … holds sway (kratoûsa)” (864a). The
unjust soul is a disordered soul in which the relationship between the higher, rational,
and lower, appetitive, part of the soul is inverted. Injustice is defined by the Athenian
Stranger as “tyranny in the soul of spiritedness, fear, pleasure, pain, feelings of envy,
and desires” (863e6-8). Injustice in the soul generally results in unjust actions.301
301
3
The justice or injustice of one’s actions is defined by the disposition that one employs in performing the action (862b3-4). For the theory of punishment, the definition of injustice as a quality of the soul means that the type and duration of punishment primarily depends on the gravity of the disorder in the soul rather than the amount of harm inflicted by the action.
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It is necessary to first understand how the Athenian Stranger defines the
various parts of the soul in the Laws before analyzing the different kinds of disorders
in the soul. The Athenian Stranger departs slightly from the well-known tripartite
division of the soul in the Republic. In the Republic, Socrates makes a distinction
between the reasoning part (tò logistikón), the spirited part (tò thumoeidés) and the
desires (epithumíai). The spirited part plays an important and distinct role from the
other two parts of the soul. In the Laws, the Athenian Stranger recognizes the
presence of thumós in the soul (cf. 863b3).302 However, on several occasions he is
ambiguous or indifferent as to whether thumós is a distinct part of the soul or yet
another passion. “[O]ne thing in its [the soul’s] nature, either a passion (páthos) or a
part (méros), is spiritedness (thumós)” (863b).
As indicated above, disorder in the soul occurs when the opinion about what is
best no longer rules and the relationship between the various parts of the soul is
disrupted. Disorder may arise in three ways. First, the spirited part may become
tyrannical. Spiritedness is “by nature quarrelsome and pugnacious” (863b3-4). It is
violent and rules the soul on account of brute strength (863c). This kind of violent
spiritedness is “uncalculating,” which means that it is indiscriminate and random.
Unguided by reason, the force of spiritedness amounts to blind anger (863b4).
Spiritedness is the cause of many injustices, particularly those involving violence (cf.
934a). Spiritedness causes injustice when it, just like a passion, overtakes the soul.303
302
3
Thomas Pangle, Plato’s Laws (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1980), book I, fn. 33 rightly argues that there is a need for a more elaborate study on the role of thumós in Plato’s Laws to supplement studies on the role of thumós in the Republic.303
3
Spiritedness itself can also be overtaken. Spiritedness may be turned “to wax” by pleasures and longings (633d). This indicates that the Athenian Stranger occasionally does consider spiritedness as a separate part of the soul.
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Spiritedness can function alone in the soul to cause injustice, as when a person
acts on a sudden impulse (866e). For example, someone who murders out of spirited
anger on a sudden impulse does not premeditate the murder. According to the
Athenian Stranger, the murderer will feel regret immediately following the act. The
spirited part of the soul can also act in conjunction with the reasoning part. The
Athenian Stranger provides the example of a man who feels insulted and is angry
enough to kill the man who insulted him, but who controls his spiritedness only to kill
him after deliberating (867a). This man uses his reason to accomplish the end
determined by his anger. Unlike the person who kills on the impulse of anger, the
man who proceeds with cold calculation feels no regret (866e).
The second way in which disorder may occur in the soul is when pleasure
(hedoné) and desires (epithumíai) rule the soul (864b). When pleasure rules the soul,
the soul is unjust (863b). Pleasure rules not through strength, like spiritedness, but
through “persuasion and forceful trickery” (863c). Pleasures, desires, and envies
(phtónoi) use the reasoning part to obtain their goal (870a).
The two ways in which disorder occurs in the soul, namely through an excess
of spiritedness or an excess of pleasures and desires, both constitute a failure of self-
mastery. 304 Self-mastery, as discussed in Book 1 of the Laws, means that the lower
part of the soul is trained to be obedient to the higher part of the soul or to the law
(644c-5b).305 It is the result of an ongoing struggle in the soul to master the pleasures
304
3
Aristotle makes a distinction between self-mastery (enkrateia) and moderation (sophrosune), with enkrateia as the more active form of self-mastery in Nicomachean Ethics, trans. David Ross, rev. J. L. Ackrill and J. O. Urmson. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), bk. VII. In the Laws, the distinction is negligible.305
3
The lower part of the soul includes the fears and pains, desires and pleasures. The higher part of the soul includes memories, opinions, and prudent thoughts (cf. 654e).
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and pains (cf. 647d). Self-mastery does not entail the suppression of all pleasures and
pains but constitutes the ability to resist pleasures and pains according to reason
(636e). The struggle leads to victory (cf. 641c). The man who lacks self-mastery is
weak or “feminine” (cf. 639b). He who fails to train his fears, his pains and pleasures
and his desires is enslaved to them (635c-d). Even though he may think he is happy
by fulfilling his desires or fleeing from pain, in reality he is a slave to himself.
The third way in which disorder of the soul occurs concerns the reasoning part
of the soul. This part may fail to function well on account of ignorance (agnoía,
amathía). Ignorance is defined in several ways. First, the Athenian Stranger ascribes
the term ignorance the condition of dissonance in the soul (688e; 698a). Ignorance is
“[w]hen someone doesn’t like, but rather hates, what in his opinion is noble or good,
and likes and welcomes what in his opinion is wicked and unjust. This dissonance
(diaphonían) between pleasure and pain on the one hand, and the opinion that is
according to reason on the other, I assert to be the ultimate and greatest ignorance,
because it belongs to the major part of the soul” (689a). This is a surprising definition
of ignorance because it concerns the lower part of the soul, which harbors pleasures
and desires rather than reason. The person is ignorant when he does not feel the right
pleasures and pains.
Second, the Athenian Stranger argues that ignorance is due to the lack of
correct opinion, which may be manifest in two ways (863d). On the one hand, a man
may not simply lack correct opinions but actually have wrong opinions. On the other
hand, a man may lack correct opinions yet think he is wise. The latter person is less
susceptible to correction and his condition is more severe. When children or the
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elderly suffer from this condition, their punishment should be gentle. Those who lack
correct opinions but think they are wise and who are moreover strong or powerful
should be punished severely because their actions can do more harm (863c-d).
The Athenian Stranger states that ignorance has three forms (864b8-c1), but
provides no explanation of these forms. Speculatively, there are the following
possibilities. First, reason may be weak and overwhelmed by the passions. There is a
struggle in the soul and, even though the person understands that an action is wrong,
he gives in to the desires of the lower part of his soul. A second possibility is that the
ignorance is due to innocence, as when the person does not know right from wrong.
Children are ignorant in this way. They simply do not know any better. A third
possibility is when a person who holds incorrect opinions thinks he is wise. This
person will not respect the law – which dictates correct opinion – and marshals his
desires to fit his own intentions. His reason is developed and he is fully aware of his
own actions. This person’s soul is particularly harsh. He acts with the conscious
intent of inflicting harm.
7.2.2 Disorder of the Lower Part of the Soul
In Plato’s Laws, it is assumed that the different ways in which the soul becomes
disordered, as described above, may lead to unjust action. Besides the disordered
relationships between the different parts of the soul, there are dispositions of the soul
that are the cause of unjust action.
According to the Athenian Stranger, the disposition that is the underlying
source of any injustice is a man’s “excessive friendship for oneself” (731e). The
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Athenian Stranger calls this “the greatest of all evils” and “the cause of all of each
man’s wrongdoings on every occasion” (731d-e). It is a disposition that invites many
other illnesses. For the mass of human beings it grows naturally in the soul (731d).
The concept of excessive friendship for one’s self may be clarified by
understanding how man cares for himself. Caring for one’s self translates into caring
for one’s soul which, the Athenian Stranger states, is the thing that is “most one’s
own” (726a). Most people, especially the young, think that they honor their soul by
encouraging it to do whatever it wishes (727b). They think that they make their soul
great when they indulge in any kind of passion that lingers in the soul. In other words,
they spoil the lower part of the soul. The lower part of the soul is more closely
connected to the body, which by definition is what is most one’s own. However,
excessive friendship for oneself feeds into the lower part of the soul without regard to
the good of the soul as a whole. Indulging the lower part of the soul harms rather
than honors the soul. People who do so are “blind” when it comes to caring for the
soul (731e). They are poor judges of what is just, good and noble (732a).
The way to honor one’s soul, according to the Athenian Stranger, is to change
its condition from “worse” to “better” (727a). This can be done, first, when a person
takes responsibility for his errors and evils (727b). Second, a person should not
indulge just in every pleasure or give in to every fear. Instead, a person should delight
in the pleasures and endure the fears and hardships that are praised by the lawgiver
(727c). Third, the soul is dishonored if the person acts according to the belief that
survival is always good (727d; cf. 707d). Instead, a person should struggle to
understand that he does not know what will happen in Hades (727d). In other words,
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a person should not fear death or the end of his physical existence. Fourth, the soul is
a “most divine thing” (728b) and should be honored before the body, which is
“earthborn” (727e). Any passion for earthly goods, such as beauty or wealth, should
be subject to the goods of the soul, which are courage, moderation, prudence, and
justice (cf. 631b-d and 661b-c). The soul is honored when a person subjects his
passions – the lower part of the soul that is most closely connected to the body – to
the higher part of his soul, which is susceptible to reason and law.
Various other dispositions are attributed to indulging in the lower part of the
soul. First, there is the disposition suffered of people who nurture an erotic love of
wealth (philochrematia, philochremosune) (831c). The erotic love for wealth is
insatiable (831d). A person who nurtures this love will be a slave to himself because
his soul will always make him desire more money. This person will have trouble
being just. When the erotic love of wealth governs the soul, the person is willing to
use any means – noble or ignoble, honest or dishonest – to acquire wealth (831d).
Murders are plotted intentionally out of the desire for money, which “dominates a
soul driven wild by longings” (869e-70a). Oftentimes, wealth is not just coveted in
itself, but also because it is instrumental in satisfying other desires. The desire for
food, drink, and sex is common to all men (cf. 782e). In combination with the erotic
desire for wealth, these desires render man particularly abhorrent. Then, he is willing
to perform “without disgust any action, whether pious, or impious, or utterly
shameful, if only it gives him, like a beast, the power to eat and drink all sorts of
things and provides him with total gratification of every sexual lust” (831d-e; cf.
870a).
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The person who is obsessed with the acquisition of wealth has no time or
leisure for the pursuit of citizenship (831c4). This is a vulgar existence that distorts
the character of a free man (cf. 741e). This person does not care for anything noble;
all he cares about is daily gain (831c). The result is acts of injustice. Greed turns
ordinary human beings into “merchants, commercial ship traders, and complete
servants, and makes those who are courageous into pirates, housebreakers, temple
robbers, warriors, and tyrannical types” (831e-2a). The soul is enslaved not by law
but by its own desires and this person will injure his fellow citizens (843b).
The Athenian Stranger speaks of these individuals with particular loathing
(832b). Nevertheless, given the precautionary measures that are to be taken in
Magnesia, the Athenian Stranger assumes that its citizens are unlikely to become
lovers of money (832d; cf. 705a-b, 741e). These measures, such as the prohibition for
citizens to become tradesmen, exist because the Athenian Stranger is genuinely
concerned about the effect on the soul and on the community of spending one’s daily
existence in the pursuit of profit.
Related to the excessive love of wealth is the vice of poverty. The Athenian
Stranger argues that the poor have an excessive love of wealth. This disease makes
men ready to attack the property of the haves (735e-6a). Poverty, according to the
Athenian Stranger, is an indication of one’s avarice (aplestía – insatiate desire or
greediness) (736e). It does not consist in a lessening of one’s property per se. It is a
condition of the soul, not a function of circumstances.
Another disposition that is the result of indulging in the lower part of the soul
is erotic love (eros) and the excessive indulgence in the sexual pleasures (tà
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Aphrodísia) (836a-b; 870a, 941c). The Athenian Stranger is especially concerned
about sexual indulgence because in Magnesia men and women are to spend all their
time together during the sacrifices, festivals, and choruses, and it will be hard for
them to contain these desires (835e-6a). In this light, homosexual intercourse is also
condemned. Both homosexual intercourse and heterosexual intercourse involve the
sexual pleasures (tà Aphrodísia) but, according to the Athenian Stranger, only when
the male unites with the female for the purpose of procreation is the pleasure
according to nature (katà phúsin) (636b-c; cf. 839a, 840d-e). Based on the same
argument, masturbation is considered unnatural (839a). Intercourse should occur only
for the begetting of children (838e).
The Athenian Stranger pays special attention to homosexual intercourse,
possibly because an outright ban on homosexual practices would be particularly
difficult to impose on people who currently condone such practices (836c; cf. 839d).
The principal reason for banning homosexual intercourse given by the Athenian
Stranger is that is not conducive but, instead, opposed to virtue and to moderation in
particular.306 The seduced party is considered soft instead of courageous, while the
seducer is considered as lacking in moderation because he is incapable of mastering
his pleasures (836d-e). The erotic love for young boys is love focused on the body
that, “hungering for the bloom as for ripe fruit, bids himself take his fill without
honoring the disposition of soul of the beloved” (837c). This kind of love should be
306
3
Michel Foucault (1990), 44 argues that the Athenian Stranger’s concern is not so much with the type of practice (hetero or homosexual intercourse) but the intensity of the desires involved. According to this argument, homosexuality is not unnatural but involves excessive indulgence in sexual desire and a lack of self-restraint. However, in my view, the Athenian Stranger aims to ban homosexual intercourse as a whole, not just in moderation (841d). A total ban is necessary not only because homosexual intercourse means indulgence in “frenzied desires” but also because it is unnatural (836c, 838e-9a; 636b-c). It is unnatural to men and beast alike (636b; 836c).
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banned in the city (837d; cf. 841d). There is an alternative sort of love, which is
primarily focused on the soul and reveres what is virtuous and wishes to remain
chaste (837c). This love looks at the body rather than desiring it, considering physical
gratification to be “wantonness (plesmonén)” (837c). Then there is a third kind of
love that mixes the two. The Athenian Stranger allows only the second kind of love in
the city (837d).
The extent to which man’s sexual desires are moderate is preeminent in
determining whether his desires are natural. This does not entail a total suppression of
sexual desire. Instead, the prudent person or – in the absence of prudence – the law,
makes a reasoned decision as to when, where, and how to indulge in the pleasures of
sexual desires (cf. 636d-e). As mentioned earlier, sexual indulgence for the creation
of natural offspring is considered moderate.
Since these dispositions lead to injustice, it is important that precautions are
taken to limit these desires, as a sort of “medicine” that will cure the patient (836b).
The Athenian Stranger proposes two antidotes against excessive indulgence in sexual
desires. The first is the cultivation of a social stigma against “the spilling of seed” and
intercourse that is not for the procreation of children (838b-c). This stigma is meant to
evoke the same kind of repulsion and fear that people experience at the thought of
incest (838b). People should consider these activities as hateful to the gods and “the
most shameful of shameful things” (838b-c). Besides submitting the soul to the mores
of the city, another antidote recommended by the Athenian Stranger is constant
exercise. A body that is well trained is better able to follow ordinances (839e).
Moreover, intensive physical training takes the mind away from sexual desires; the
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love of victory in sports can replace the love for sexual conquests (840a). The victory
over pleasures is even nobler than a victory in running or wrestling (840b-c).
Moderating sexual intercourse “prevents erotic frenzy and madness, as well as
all adulteries, and all excessive drinking and eating, and will make men familiar with
and dear to their own wives” (839a-b). Infrequency of sexual intercourse weakens the
sway of sexual desire over the soul (841b). The soul that is enslaved to the mores and
law of the city achieves victory and this is the source of happiness (840c).
Nevertheless, the Athenian Stranger acknowledges that the “disorderly Aphrodite”
has great power and that some men are incapable of mastering this erotic love (840e).
Another source of injustice is the habit of the honor-loving soul (philotímia)
(870c5).307 For the honor-loving soul, the danger is that an excessive desire for honor
breeds envies (phthónoi) (870c; cf. 863e, 869e, 934a). When envy rules the soul,
many injustices result (cf. 863e). These injustices are voluntary and spring from
weakness of the soul in the face of envies (869e); therefore, they are to be judged
particularly harshly (871d; 934a). Envy is a problem not only for the person himself
but also for men who are truly the best in the city, for they stand in danger of being
harmed or even killed by the envious person (870c).
Another disturbing disposition is “cowardly and unjust fears (deiloì kaì ádikoi
phóboi)” (870c8; cf. 856b, 863e, 873c, 934a; 943a, 944c). Many injustices result from
cowardly weakness in the face of fears. For example, a person may commit murder
out of cowardly fear because he has done something that he does not want anyone to
307
3
This part of the chapter is based on the list of “psychic injustices” compiled byTrevor J. Saunders in Plato’s Penal Code. Tradition, Controversy, and Reform in Greek Penology (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 187-8. Saunders cedes that the list is “something of an omnium gatherum … unsystematic and unclear,” 189. Still, we recognize many disordered dispositions that have been worked out systematically by later philosophers.
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know about (870d). In this case cowardly fear rules the soul, because the risk of being
found out weighs heavier than considerations of justice. Cowardly fears may also
often explain why people fail to prevent injustices. For example, a powerful
magistrate may fail to take action against someone who is attempting to subject the
city to faction (856b-c). Cowardice may be the reason for someone to fail to perform
military service (943a) or throw away his arms during war (943e-944d).
Idleness or sloth (agría) is another disposition closely related to cowardice;
idleness is the “offspring of cowardice” (873c; 901e). In turn, “softness of spirit
(hratumía)” is an offspring of idleness and luxury (901e). Together with “unmanly
cowardice (anandrías deilíai)” (873c), idleness can lead to someone taking his own
life, not because of the terrible luck or shame that has befallen him but out of lack of
effort.
There are also some physical conditions that lead to injustices, such as
illnesses (nósoi) or insanity (manía), as well as senility (géras) and youth (paidía)
(864d). Youthfulness (neótes) is connected to being easily persuadable (934a).
Finally, there are certain external circumstances that promote disordered
dispositions. The main circumstance is dysfunctional regime. The following forms of
regime are considered dysfunctional: democracy, oligarchy, and tyranny. In these
regimes there is rule over involuntary subjects, sometimes with violence. The ruler is
afraid and will not allow the ruled to become noble, wealthy, strong, courageous, or
“in any way warlike” (832c). These regimes do not nurture the virtue of the citizens.
7.2.3 Disordered Opinions: The Case of Impiety
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The case of impiety merits a separate section not because the Athenian Stranger
discusses it in detail; the topic takes up twenty-seven Stephanus pages (884a1-910e4)
but also because it concerns a disorder of the reasoning part of the soul. Impiety is
specifically described an “illness” of the soul (888b8). It is the result of a particularly
marked lack of learning (886b7-8). The disorder can be exacerbated and result in
even greater injustices if the lower part of the soul is also disordered.
The Athenian Stranger tends to become angry at those who, despite having
heard of the gods when they were young, having participated in prayers and sacrifices
while growing up and witnessed their parents pray, are insolent towards the gods and
show contempt for the efforts of their parents and their city to educate them (887d-e).
He urges them to not act impiously before reaching a mature age, when they may be
persuaded by his arguments or, alternatively, until they have a doctrine about these
matters themselves (888b-c).
Impiety is expressed as insolence towards the gods in speech or deed (885b2-
3). It takes three forms: the existence of the gods is denied, the existence of the gods
is acknowledged but it is assumed that they do not care for human beings, and the
existence of the gods is acknowledged but it is believed that they are easily appeased
by sacrifice and prayers (885b6-9). Denial of the gods is a “mindless opinion
(anoétou dóxes)” (891c7). All three opinions are incorrect. The appropriate remedy
for impiety focuses on replacing incorrect opinions with correct ones.
Denial of the gods has two forms (908b). First, it is possible that a man with a
naturally just disposition does not believe in the gods. This man may hate bad people
and feel disgust at injustice. He will stay clear from people who are not just and seek
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out the company of the just (908b-c). Second, there is the man who, in addition to his
opinion that the gods do not exist or care for human life, is afflicted by a lack of self-
restraint as regards pleasures and pains (908c). This condition is worse if the man has
a good memory and a strong capacity for learning (908c). According to the Athenian
Stranger, disbelief in the gods is a disorder for both men, but the second man will do
more harm to other human beings (908c). The reasoning is as follows. The
disbeliever with a just disposition is likely to be frank about his opinions (908c). He
will harm other people because he may pass on his incorrect opinions. This is why he
should receive a penalty (908d). In contrast, the disbeliever who lacks self-restraint
may share the same opinion, but his passions and desires will lead him to be cunning
and deceitful (908d). The latter will be much more dangerous. Many diviners are like
this man, and “sometimes tyrants, demagogues, and generals … ‘sophists’” (908d).
7.2.4 Voluntary and Involuntary Crimes
Another element that is relevant to the remedies for the disorders in the soul is the
distinction between voluntary and involuntary actions, which has important
implications for the type of punishment. The distinction has received significant
attention because, at least on first sight, it seems a genuine departure from the
Socratic statement that no one harms another man willingly.
The Athenian Stranger starts out implicitly agreeing with the Socratic
statement. He subscribes to the statement that “the bad are all bad involuntarily in
every respect” (860d1). Everyone, so the Athenian Stranger goes on to say, “does
injustice involuntarily” (860d9). However, if injustice is always committed
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involuntarily, it is debatable whether punishment is still appropriate, and whether the
lawgiver can pass legislation about injustices (860e6-7). Conventionally, a distinction
is always made between voluntary and involuntary crimes, and voluntary crimes are
always punished more severely. Nevertheless, the Athenian Stranger offers an
argument about what constitutes voluntary and involuntary. It is “necessary to make
clear somehow that these things are two, and what the difference is, so that whenever
someone imposes the judicial penalty on either of them, everyone may follow the
things that are being said and may be able to judge, somehow or other, what is
fittingly laid down and what is not” (861c2-6). While they “don’t differ from one
another by being involuntary and voluntary,” there are some essential distinctions
(861d4-6).
First, according to the Athenian Stranger, not all injuries are injustices
(861e6). When someone with a just disposition (éthos) commits the injury, the injury
is done without intent or wish (mè boulómenos) (862a3). 308 According to the
Athenian Stranger, this type of injury is not an injustice at all, even though the actual
harm may be great (862a5-7). Examples of injuries that do not constitute injustices
are when a man kills someone in a contest or public game (865a3-b2) or when a
patient dies despite of the doctor’s efforts (862b2-4). These injuries are accidents, not
actions ensuing from a disordered soul. When a free man kills another free man
involuntarily – without intent – then he is polluted, but besides the need for
purification, he does not receive any punishment.
308
3
Even benefitting someone can be an injustice, when it is done by someone with an unjust disposition (862a7-b1).
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Second, the clearest indication that the injury is an injustice is when the
individual deliberates prior to his actions. The injustice committed with prior
deliberation (metà epiboulês) resembles (éoiken) the voluntary (867a4-5); injustice is
an image (eikón) of the voluntary (867a2). This is an even greater evil because it is a
greater disorder in the soul. Likewise, the punishment is heavier because the
corruption of the soul is more pervasive (867b).
If an individual acts without prior deliberation, his actions are not wholly
involuntary. After all, parts of his soul willed the action or the action would not come
about unless it was a complete accident. Nevertheless, the injustice is similar to the
involuntary (867a). The injustice is an image of the involuntary (867a7). Injury
committed on account of spirited anger or fear fall into this category (874e).
7.3 Injustice and the City
The consequences of injustice for the city are great. Someone with a disordered soul
easily harms others and disturbs the peace in the community. Murder, injury, theft,
and disrespect are outward manifestations of the internal disorder of the soul. The
situation is particularly grave if the individual with a disordered soul has great power.
The tyrannical type is often dominated by greed and shamelessness (831c-2a). In the
city, the tyrant uses commands and threats to subdue the ruled. He rules over
involuntary subjects, always with some degree of violence (832c). He will never
voluntarily allow the ruled “to become noble, or wealthy, or strong, or courageous, or
in any way warlike” (832c). This city is not free but enslaved (713a). The tyrant rules
in his own interest, instead of aiming at virtue (714c).
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Given that, according to the Athenian Stranger, crimes are the result of
disorders in the soul, punishment naturally aims at correcting the disorder. Someone
with an unjust soul who may become more just, is to be pitied (731c7-d1). In contrast
one “must let one’s anger have free rein” against the purely evil man who cannot be
corrected (731d3-4).
The purpose of corrective punishment is to restore harmony in the soul. The
type and duration of punishment is adjusted primarily to the type and severity of the
disorder of the soul. The amount of harm done by the perpetrator influences the type
and duration of punishment only in a subordinate way. Instead, many types of
punishment aim at restoring harmony in the soul by diminishing the passion through
exile or imprisonment, or by making unjust action painful because of punishment.
7.4 Types of Punishment
The nature of the disorder in the soul has immediate implications for the type
and duration of punishment. Punishment can be retributive, preventive or corrective.
The Athenian Stranger emphasizes the corrective qualities of punishment. The list of
punishments that can be inflicted is as follows: death, exile, imprisonment, beating,
humiliations, and paying compensation for the injury (855b-c; 862d). These are called
“noble” punishments because they are intended to make the criminal less wicked
(854d-e). If the unjust person escapes legal punishment, he will suffer what the
Athenian Stranger calls the greatest penalty, which is not a noble punishment. This
punishment is: “to become similar to men who are wicked, and, in becoming similar,
to avoid good men and be cut off from good conversation, and instead to attach
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oneself to the bad by seeking intercourse with them” (728b4-7). The unjust person
will necessarily do and suffer what bad men make each other suffer. In this case, the
unjust person does not “get cured” (728c4-5). The stated purpose of punishment is to
“bring about hatred of injustice and desire, or lack of hatred, for the nature of the just”
(862d6-8).
An analysis of how the different types of punishments remedy the disorders in
the soul may start with the most severe penalty of capital punishment. Since the death
penalty does not function to make the criminal better, it is remarkable that the
Athenian Stranger recommends the death penalty for certain injustices, namely, those
committed by men who the Athenian Stranger calls “incurable” (862e1). Incurable
means that the law cannot do anything - whether it be honoring or dishonoring,
rewarding or punishing - to make the person abhor injustice. For these men, so argues
the Athenian Stranger, it is better that they do not go on living (862e3-4). Moreover,
the death penalty rids the city of bad members and sets a cautionary example to others
(862e5-6).
The death penalty applies to a significant number of crimes. First, the citizen
who robs a temple is to be condemned to death (854e). According to the Athenian
Stranger, a person who commits this act is difficult or impossible to cure (854a2-3).
Temple robbery is based on “an evil desire to despoil something of the sacred things”
(854a6-b1). The prelude to the law regarding temple robbery states that this evil
grows naturally in human beings. When a person is seized by this evil in his soul, he
should do what he can to weaken it by partaking in exorcisms, pleading to the gods,
frequenting the company of men said to be good, and repeating to himself that every
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man must honor the noble and just things (854b-c). If after all this he still feels the
urge to rob a temple, he should commit suicide (854c).
This punishment seems excessive. The Athenian Stranger calls it an
“unpleasant law,” but this is primarily because he regrets the presence of these crimes
in the city (853e). The crime of spoiling the sacred things is considered as an offense
against the highest order of being, namely, the gods (cf. 716a-b). The gods are to be
honored before demons, heroes, ancestral gods, and one’s living parents (717b) and
before one’s soul, body and private possessions (727a-9a). He who robs a temple not
only fails to properly honor the gods. The criminal also shows disregard towards the
highest level of the order of being and attempts to destroy this order. Temple robbery
is an offense against the most sacred place in the city.
If a slave or stranger robs a temple, he is to be whipped and thrown naked
beyond the borders of the country (854d). Although the punishment is harsh, the slave
or stranger escapes the death penalty. The reason is that the slave or stranger is not
considered incurable: “Perhaps by paying this penalty he [the slave or stranger] would
become better, by becoming moderate” (854d). The reason is that, unlike the citizen,
he has not benefited from the education of the city. In contrast, a citizen is considered
incurable because he has enjoyed the benefits of the education on a daily basis since
birth. To commit temple robbery after a lifetime of education means that there is no
hope left.
Another crime punished by the death penalty is the subversion of the regime
(856c). Any person who tries to overthrow the regime by enslaving the laws, by
making the laws serve private interest or by stirring up violence and civil strife
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against the law is called the greatest enemy to the city (856b). Likewise, a person who
holds the highest office in the city but who fails to notice acts of subversion or obtain
retribution for such acts is sentenced to death (856b-c). The same punishment applies
for the person who commits treason (856e-857a).
The last category of crimes that warrants the death penalty is constituted by
various cases of murder. A slave who murders his master should be put to death
(868c).309 A child found guilty of murdering one of his parents out of spirited rage is
also put to death, unless the parent absolves the child in which case the child is only
sent into exile for one year (869a-e). The same applies to the child who kills his
parents in self-defense. It would be just for the parricide or matricide to “undergo
many deaths” for “plundering” the soul of his parent (869b). Anyone found guilty of
murdering a citizen with prior deliberation is put to death (871d). In order to free the
city from the pollution of the crime, the perpetrator should be stoned to death by the
members of the city and the body should be discarded outside of the country’s
borders (873b). The same is appropriate for the person who hires someone to commit
the murder for him (872c) and the citizen who murders a slave in order to keep a
secret (872c).
Injuries towards the gods, the city, or one’s parents or master are more serious
than injuries towards one’s peers (e.g. fellow members of the city or siblings) or
towards one’s subordinates (e.g. slaves). The exception is murder of a fellow member
of the city with prior deliberation (871d). This act displays the utter corruption of the
soul in which reason is fully in the service of man’s pleasures, desires, or envies
309
3
The penalty is death by whipping (872c).
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(869e). The Athenian Stranger considers this person incurable. In the same vein,
when a citizen murders a slave in order to keep a secret, the reasoning part of his soul
fully cooperates in the act of murder. This condition is serious enough to warrant the
death penalty.
With the exception of murder with forethought, most murders are punished by
exile. If the murder was committed by a child, an insane person, or a senile person,
the period of exile is one year (864e). Should the criminal return before the year is
over, he is to be incarcerated in the common prison near the marketplace. If murder is
committed out of spirited anger, the term of exile is two years (867c). The purpose of
the two-year exile is to abate the spiritedness of the criminal. If a murder is
committed out of spirited anger combined with deliberation, the time of exile is three
years (867c-d). When the time of exile has elapsed, twelve Guardians of the Laws
visit the criminal and judge whether his moderation is sufficiently improved to allow
him to return to the city. If, upon return from exile, the criminal is overcome by anger
and commits another murder, then he is sent into exile permanently (868a).
A parent who kills his child out of spirited anger is punished by three years of
exile (868d). Upon his return, the parents should divorce and the criminal may no
longer live with or perform any religious services with any family member (868d).
The criminal has done the family an injustice by depriving them of a child or a sibling
and it would be offensive if he were to share in their lives. By the same token, the
murder of a spouse or a sibling is punished by three years of exile followed by
separation from his family (868e).
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Besides murder, any acts that result in injury to another member of the city or
to a slave are punished by exile. Injury with the intent of murder is punished by
permanent exile (877b). While in exile, the criminal may keep the profits from his
land in order to maintain himself. He is to pay compensation to the victim (877b).
Injury to a spouse or the physical abuse of one’s parents is likewise punished by
permanent exile (877c; 881d). A perpetrator who dares to return is to be put to death
(881d).
The reason for permanent exile is not stated explicitly and it is not clear why
the punishment for murder is two to three years of exile, whereas the punishment for
injury to another person is permanent exile. Possibly, the reason could be to prevent a
repetition of the crime. Permanent exile also indicates that the Athenian Stranger does
not consider the perpetrator sufficiently curable and sees his return both as a risk and
as an offense to the injured party.
The next punishment on the continuum is imprisonment. Imprisonment is an
appropriate punishment for someone who commits acts of impiety (908e-9a; 909b-c).
In Magnesia, there will be three different prisons (908a). Most prisoners will be
confined in the jail near the marketplace, since it is easily accessible. A second prison
will be near the meeting place of the members of the Nocturnal Council. This prison
is named the “moderation tank (sophronistérion)” (908a4). The third prison will be
located in the middle of the country, in a deserted spot (908a).
The disbeliever with a just disposition – “the ones who have come to be such
because of lack of intelligence without evil anger or disposition” – is to be imprisoned
in the moderation tank for at least five years (908e-9a). No other citizen is to have
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contact with him during this time, which serves the purpose of preventing the spread
of atheism. The only people allowed to visit the disbeliever are members of the
Nocturnal Council. Their visits entail admonishment for the salvation of the soul
(909a). It is not specified how these conversations are to be conducted and what
arguments are to be used. The Athenian Stranger leaves this up to judgment of the
Nocturnal Council members. The suggestion that members of the Nocturnal Council
use the arguments in the Laws, in particular those of Book 10, is legitimate.310 The
duration of the imprisonment should make the disbeliever moderate (909a). Should
the person be convicted of another act of impiety, punishment will be death (909a).
The disbeliever with an unjust disposition is viewed as a beast (909a8-b1). He
holds other human beings in contempt while seducing their souls (909b). Usually for
the sake of money he can utterly destroy individual human beings, households, and
whole cities (909b). This person is not considered curable by an extended stay in the
moderation tank. He must be banned from the city for good. Therefore, the
disbeliever with an unjust disposition is sent to the prison in the middle of the
country, far from the city center. No free man may ever visit him (909b-c). Slaves
feed the prisoner. When the prisoner dies, he is “to be cast out beyond the borders
unburied” (909c).
It is perhaps surprising that the latter disbeliever does not receive the death
penalty, given that he is considered incurable and a source of harm to the city. There
is no attempt at re-educating the disbeliever in the country prison and he is never to
be released. For all practical purposes the prisoner is regarded as deceased. His
310
3
Saunders (1991), 311.
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children are treated as orphans from the day that he is convicted (909d). Still, there is
a retributive purpose to the punishment. Since the disbeliever with an unjust
disposition made the city suffer, he is to spend the rest of his life in isolation from the
city. The prisoner also serves as a living reminder to others, especially those
persuaded by him, of his injustice.
Besides impiety, imprisonment is the appropriate penalty for injury to an
elderly man by a younger. This crime is particularly harmful and impious: it is
“shameful, and hateful to the gods, to see in the city an assault by a younger man on
an elder” (879c). The elderly are worthy of respect. Any member of the polis who is
older by twenty years should be considered as a father or mother, and “care must be
taken accordingly” (879c). A bystander who failed to help must pay a penalty. He
who dares to strike an elder must be charged with assault and, if convicted,
imprisoned for at least a year (880c). If he is a stranger the perpetrator is punished by
two years in prison; a resident alien must spend three years in prison (880d). The
person who strikes an elderly citizen is to go to the common prison near the
marketplace, not the moderation tank, since the imprisonment is meant to be
degrading (880a).
The following punishment on the continuum, financial penalties, generally
serves the purpose of recompensing the injured party. Even if the injury is involuntary
– i.e. the injury was an accident and the perpetrator did not act on account of a
disorder in his soul – a certain amount of money is to be paid to the injured party (cf.
879b). If the injury occurs out of rage and results in an incurable trauma, the
perpetrator is to pay four times the cost of the injury. If the wound is curable, he is to
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pay two times the cost of the injury. For a curable trauma that at the same time casts
“some great shame and disgrace on the wounded party” (878c), the penalty is three
times the cost. If the injury renders the person incapable of serving in the military, the
perpetrator is to be sentenced to additional military service on behalf of the victim
(878c-d). In case of injury to a family member, the family and other relatives should
estimate the cost of the injury (878e).
Financial penalties may be combined with other punishments for various
injuries, such as involuntary murder (865c), failing to prevent an assault on an elderly
person (880c), temple robbery and treason or acts of subversion by a child, someone
who is insane, or an elderly person (864e). Theft is also punished by a financial
penalty (857a-b; 933e-4b). The amount of twice the value of the stolen item should be
paid as a fine (857a). This amount should be sufficient to cure the criminal and instill
moderation (933e-4a). The criminal pays the fine so that “he and those who see him
suffering injustice will in future time either hate the injustice altogether, or refrain in
large part from such a calamity” (934b).
In order to ensure that the number of land allotments stays the same, the
financial penalty can never exceed the amount owned in excess of the allotment
(855b). If the penalty is greater than the excess of the allotment, the perpetrator is to
be imprisoned and sentenced to certain humiliations, such as sitting or standing in
shameful ways (855b-c).
Crimes committed on account of spiritedness are more serious when reason is
involved. Likewise, the plotting involved in a soul ruled by pleasures or desires
causes the injustice to be more voluntary and hence more severe than when reasoning
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is not involved (869e7). For example, someone who attempts to manipulate the
judges in order to bring legal suit should be prosecuted. If convicted, the court should
decide whether he acted out of a fondness for money (philochrematía) or a fondness
for victory (philonikía) (938b). Fondness for money belongs to the desiring part of the
soul and for this motive the perpetrator receives the death penalty (938c). Fondness
for victory is connected to the spirited part of the soul and results in the lighter
punishment of being barred from undertaking a legal suit against anyone for a period
of time determined by the court (938b).
7.5 Pollution
Apart from the necessity to impose punishment that cures the criminal or extricates
him from the city, there is the need to purify the criminal. When someone commits a
murder, whether voluntary or involuntary, there is a need for him to purify himself
from pollution (865a-6d). Historically, the concept of pollution refers to the blood of
the victim that stains the hands of the murderer even after the physical remnants have
been washed off. Pollution requires seclusion from others until one is cleansed.
Adkins defines pollution as “the presence (or supposed presence) of any substance, of
whatever kind, which is believed to hamper men’s relations with the supernatural.”311
However, Moulinier argues that a belief in pollution so defined is present in Homer
and Hesiod, but it has no metaphysical connotations. In Homer, the pollution is
physical dirt that has to be washed off before a man can pray to the gods with any
expectation that they will listen to him.
311
3
A. W. H. Adkins, Merit and Responsibility (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1960), 86.
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In the fourth century, the notion of pollution gradually loses its power on the
Greek mind. The idea remains that the gods are involved in the trial, watching the
jurors and exacting vengeance. Still, this argument “has settled down as no more than
one argument among many.”312 Even in religious cases, the injustice of the deed is
often emphasized more than the impiety. “[I]t is reasonable to suppose that, in a 4th
century prosecution, murder would have been presented as a threat to society on a
secular far more than on a religious level.”313 One of the causes may be that murder-
pollution had outlived its utility. Parker argues that Plato’s reference in the Laws to
the pollution of the murderer is “characteristic of that work’s profound religious
conservatism.”314
The main available oratorical source about the pollution of murder is the
Tetralogies that date from around the 430s, if not earlier around the 440s.315
Authorship is disputed, although a majority of scholars ascribe the work to Antiphon
of Rhamnus.316 It is also disputed whether the Tetralogies describe Athenian law and
practice. The Tetralogies illustrate different types of argument, presenting two
speeches for each side.317 Primary attention is given to the arguments. The emphasis is
312
3
R. Parker, Miasma. Pollution and Purification in early Greek Religion (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1983), 127-8.313
3
Parker (1983), 128; R. Sealey, “The Tetralogies ascribed to Antiphon,” Transactions of the American Philological Association 114 (1984), 74.314
3
Parker (1983), 128.315
3
M. Gagarin and D. M. MacDowell, Antiphon and Andocides (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1998): 4-6; however, R. Sealey argues in favor of a later date, “The Tetralogies ascribed to Antiphon,” Transactions of the American Philological Association 114 (1984), 73.
316 See Parker (1983), 105; M. Gagarin and D. M. MacDowell, Antiphon and Andocides (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1998), 6; and Sealey (1984), 72-3.317
3
In Athenian court, each litigant in a private case would give two speeches.
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on providing examples of legal argumentation that provide useful training for the
variety of cases a litigant might face. Both sides argue that a killer is polluted and that
his pollution also pollutes the whole city.
In the Laws, the Athenian Stranger hopes that beliefs about pollution instill
fear and prevent crime.318 The ancient saying is that justice (díke) is the avenger of the
blood of kinsmen (872e). The Athenian Stranger ordains that the person who murders
a kinsman should suffer the same acts that he has perpetrated (872e). Someone who
has killed his father, for example, will suffer the same fate at the hands of his
children. “For there is no other purification for the shared polluted blood, nor is the
pollution willing to be washed away, until the soul that perpetrated the deed pays for
murder with murder, like for like, and thus, by appeasing, lays to rest the spiritedness
of the entire family” (872e-873a). These things, so continues the Athenian Stranger,
“should restrain someone who fears such retributions from the gods” (873a).
A murderer is polluted in the sense that he defiles public and sacred places
and contaminates others (868a-b). “[I]f someone among the free men should eat with
such a man, drink with him, or partake in common with him in some other such
community, or even if he should only touch him in greeting, voluntarily, when
encountering him somewhere,” then that person becomes impure. He should not go
into any temple, the marketplace, or the city as a whole until he has been purified
(881d-e). Anyone related to the deceased who fails to prosecute will suffer pollution
and the enmity of the gods (871b). Certain kinds of murder do not entail pollution.
318
3
Mary Douglas argues that one of the (anthropological) purposes of pollution is prevention “[w]hen moral indignation is not reinforced by practical sanctions, pollution beliefs can provide a deterrent to wrongdoers,” Purity and Danger. An Analysis of Concepts of Pollution and Taboo (New York: Praeger, 1966).133.
173
For example, killing a thief that enters one’s house is a form of unpolluted murder, as
is killing a highwayman or the rapist of a family member (874b).
7.6 Conclusion
The premise of the Athenian Stranger’s view on punishment is that it corrects an
imbalance in the soul. Except for the incurables, punishment can help to cure the soul.
The medical imagery is surprisingly absent from the Athenian Stranger’s discussion
of the criminal soul. Disorders in the soul are described as imbalances, on account of
strong fears, pleasures, or desires. It may be that these diseases are already concrete
and familiar enough for the average reader. Still, it is not hard to imagine a physician
at work, forcing those with excessive desires into exile so that these desires abate and
harmony is reestablished in the soul.
174
CHAPTER 8
CONCLUSION
The writing of this dissertation has been motivated by an attempt to find a way to
engage with Plato’s Laws, a dialogue which is considered by many to be long and
tedious but which, on account of its subject matter, remains intriguing to students of
law and politics. As a way of facilitating engagement, this dissertation has collected
and analyzed the medical imagery used in the Laws to explain law and lawgiving.
The expectation was that a focus on the medical imagery would be a particularly
helpful because most readers already have a conception of health and disease in the
body, and a general conception of the skills of the physician. Medical imagery offers
concrete images that assist comprehension of abstract concepts or practices, such as
the balance of power in the city or consonance in the soul.
By collecting and analyzing medical imagery, the approach of this dissertation
differs from the analytical approach to reading Plato, which focuses on the logical
analysis of the arguments, as well as the Straussian approach, which focuses on the
dramatic action of the dialogue. Christopher Bobonich’s analytical interpretation has
been found wanting when it comes to the interpretation of the lawgiver-physician in
Book 4 of the Laws. Bobonich argues based on the analogy that the preambles
provide rationally sound reasons for why the principles behind legislation are true,
and that internalizing these reasons is a cognitive achievement that enables each
member of the city to become fully virtuous. This interpretation fits Bobonich’s
175
overall argument that the Laws is consistently more egalitarian compared to the
Republic, where it is only the philosopher who can achieve full virtue on account of
his knowledge of the Good. However, the interpretation does not fit the analogy itself.
Careful attention to the medical image of the physician who persuades his patient
before commanding him shows that the patient requests him to do so like a child
(720a). The reader can imagine the stories, promises, and artistry a parent may use to
convince his or her child to obey. This is not a purely rational activity. The Straussian
approach is more congenial to the interpretation of imagery. As Leo Strauss argues,
images can point towards truths that go beyond other statements in the dialogue.319
Still, Randall Baldwin Clark’s study of the Laws tends to fall into the trap of trying to
find the meaning of the dialogue exclusively in the form rather than the content or a
combination of both.
This dissertation has collected the medical imagery in the order that they
appear in the Laws. Among the abstract concepts or practices which medical imagery
helps to clarify are, first of all, the testing and training that takes place during the
symposia, which is explained by the medical metaphor of wine as a drug that exposes
and trains the disposition of the drinker. Chapter 3 surveyed the medical imagery in
Plato’s dialogues other than the Laws. The comparative analysis showed that
philosophy is compared to medicine in a way that is distinct from the comparison
between statesmanship and medicine. When Socrates compares himself to a physician
in the Gorgias, he suggests that his art is like surgery in that it purges the soul of
incorrect opinions (475d). But there exists a different relationship between the
statesman or lawgiver and the member of the city. The lawgiver writes law for a
319 Strauss (1946), 353-4.
176
group of people because they need guidance in absence of prudence. People
internalize these rules when they become habituated to them. By contrast, the
philosopher does not exercise any rule, nor does he educate by instilling correct
opinions in the minds of others.
The contrast between philosophy and lawgiving recurs in the analysis of wine
as a drug that induces fearlessness and boldness in chapter 4. At the symposia,
people’s dispositions are exposed and, according to the Athenian Stranger, their self-
mastery is tested and promoted. This kind of education is subrational; it takes place
while the reasoning part of the soul is incapacitated. The process is the opposite to
philosophy, which appeals mostly to the rational part of the soul.
Chapter 5 analyzed the image of the city as healthy or diseased. It was
suggested that the Hippocratic conception of health offers a concrete physical image
of the kind of balance that the Athenian Stranger aims to achieve in the city. This is a
balance between two opposites (monarchy and democracy). In the concrete proposals
for the institutions of Magnesia, this balance results in a thorough mixture of
democratic, oligarchic, and aristocratic elements.
Chapter 6 dealt with the important issue of persuasion. Here the contrast
between philosophy and lawgiving plays a role once more. In the Laws, music is
described as a charm that, on account of being pleasurable, can seduce people to
become noble. The charm works very differently in the Charmides, where Socrates
proves unable to charm Charmides into living the life of philosophy. The analogy
between lawgiver and physician also shows law as distinct from the rational argument
of the philosopher. The preamble to the law is like a story or tale that the lawgiver
177
uses to induce obedience to the law, just as the physician uses stories to persuade the
patient – as if he were a child – to accept treatment.
Lastly, chapter 7 analyzed the different disorders in the soul. These disorders
are called illnesses, some of which are curable, others not. The punishments
prescribed in Book 9 of the Laws have the purpose of curing the disorder by means of
imprisonment or exile, both of which are meant to abate the passion that caused the
disorder and hence the injustice in the first place.
Overall, this dissertation has shown, by analyzing the medical imagery, that
what is distinctive about the Laws is its focus on (educating) the lower part of the
soul, which is the part that is most closely connected to the body and that harbors
pleasures and pains, fears and desires, in order to bring about consonance between the
lower and higher part of the soul. Medical imagery in the Laws is used to
acknowledge the ongoing danger of disorder in the soul due to man’s physical nature,
and hence the continuing need for training and monitoring the lower part of the soul.
This is the purpose of the law and customs of the city, rather than philosophy.
178
APPENDIX A
THE TESTING OF THE SOUL IN PHILOSOPHICAL DISCOURSE
A.1 Introduction
When the Athenian Stranger in the Laws describes the idea of testing the soul, the
Greek word he employs is básanos (648b1, cf. 649d9, 650a3, 650b4). The specific
meaning of the Greek word básanos is “a dark-colored stone on which pure gold,
when rubbed, leaves a peculiar mark.”320 A básanos is a touchstone that helps
determine the quality of a material. As a touchstone, it provides a standard or criterion
by which something is judged or recognized. Básanos also means the actual test or
trial whether a thing is genuine or real. The verb basanízo means putting something
or someone to the test. The verb also has the meaning to be tortured for the purpose of
extorting a confession.321
In the Laws, as described in the third chapter of this dissertation, the dangers
of intoxication test the disposition of the drinker. In the Socratic dialogues, the soul is
tested by means of the Socratic question and answer format. For example, in the
Laches, the verb basanízein is used twice to describe Socrates’ practice of testing the
people he converses with (188a3, 188b5). In the Gorgias, the noun básanos or the
320
3
Liddle and Scott, An Intermediate Greek – English Lexicon (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1999).321
3
Liddle and Scott, An Intermediate Greek – English Lexicon (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1999).
179
verb basanízein is used six times to explain the nature of the encounter between
Socrates and Callicles (486d4, 486d7, 487a1, 487a4, 487e1, 487e3). In the
Theaetetus, testing refers to the way the philosopher-as-midwife treats his ‘offspring’
(150b, 191c, 202e). At times, this questioning is explicitly compared to a physician’s
examination. For example, in the Gorgias, Socrates asks Polus to submit himself
“nobly to the argument, as you would to a doctor, and answer me [Socrates]” (475d).
As Mark Moes puts it, the philosopher “tests his interlocutors’ responses to questions,
suggestions, speeches etc. in a similar way as physicians test their patients’ responses
to pokes, prods, diagnostic tests.”322
This appendix discusses the concept of testing in the Laches, Gorgias, and
Theaetetus, in order to compare it to the kind of testing that takes place in the Laws.
A.2 The Laches: Socratic Testing
The Laches is a dialogue about courage or manliness (andreía). The dialogue opens at
the home of Lysimachus, who confesses that he and his friend Melesius are both
undistinguished sons of very distinguished fathers, Aristides “the Just” and
Thucydides the general, respectively. Lysimachus and Melesius want to know what is
the best way to educate their sons for greatness. They seek the advice on this matter
from Nicias and Laches, two distinguished Athenian generals. Laches proposes that
they also include Socrates among those whose advice they will consider.
After the four men discuss the issue of fighting in armor as a useful subject for
young men to learn, Socrates is asked for his vote in the matter. Socrates, being
322
3
Moes (2000), 89.
180
Socrates, questions argues that it is by knowledge not majority rule that the decision
should be made. He asks for the sake of what the fighting in armor would be useful.
Lysimachus expects a ready-made answer from Nicias and Laches, but Nicias
interrupts him, saying that it is quite clear that Lysimachus has no first hand
experience with Socrates.
A conversation with Socrates, so warns Nicias, is more than just talk. Socrates
will argue with his interlocutor to the point that the latter submits to answering
questions about the way he is living his life and the way he has lived his life so far.
Once the interlocutor submits, Socrates will not let him go before he has truly tested
every detail (188a3). According to Nicias, being tested by Socrates facilitates the kind
of learning that “makes one pay more attention to the rest of one’s life” (188b3).
Nicias claims that there is nothing unusual or unpleasant in being tested by Socrates
(188b5). But Lysimachus should not expect the ensuing conversation to be about the
education of the boys, the sons of Lysimachus and Melesius.323 The conversation will
be about themselves (188b7-8).
The rest of the dialogue confirms Nicias’ observation. Instead of a detached
discussion about the use or uselessness of learning the art of fighting in armor, the
dialogue develops into a discussion about courage, and this discussion engages Nicias
and Laches in a profound way. Courage is the virtue that has an obvious personal
meaning for the two generals who aim at exemplifying courage in the battlefield.
When asked to put a definition of courage into words, however, neither Laches nor
323
3
We learn in another dialogue that Aristides, the son of Lysimachus, associated with Socrates but left him for a life of dishonesty (Theaetetus, 150e-151a).
181
Nicias is able to come up with a consistent definition of courage; neither has stable
knowledge about the matter. Their souls are tested and found wanting.
We also learn from the dialogue that testing is closely linked to education.
Being tested by Socrates is a kind of learning process. In Nicias’ words: “I think that
a man who does not run away from such treatment [being tested by Socrates] but is
willing, according to the saying of Solon, to value learning as long as he lives, not
supposing that old age brings him wisdom of itself, will necessarily pay more
attention to the rest of his life” (188a6-b4). In the dialogue, Socrates not only tests the
opinions about courage but also repeatedly and explicitly invites both Laches and
Nicias to join him in examining what is being said about the topic (194e1, 195c3-4,
195d10, 197e7-8). Laches shows most enthusiasm for becoming Socrates’ apprentice.
As Laches’ opinions are tested, he is simultaneously provoked to reflect on what
courage really means. This process is a learning process in itself. As Walter Schmid
argues, a significant part of Socrates’ task is “to bring Laches to a better
understanding of what civic courage and duty really involve.”324
A.3 The Gorgias: Callicles and the Sincerity of Opinion
In the Gorgias, the word básanos or test describes the encounter between Socrates
and Callicles. Socrates refers to the original meaning of the word básanos - as a stone
for testing gold – shortly into his conversation with Callicles. He extends the meaning
of the word by applying it to Callicles himself, indicating the nature of the
confrontation that is to develop:
324
3
Walter T. Schmid, On Manly Courage: A Study of Plato’s Laches (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1992), 101.
182
If I [Socrates] actually had a soul made of gold, Callicles, don’t you think I’d be pleased to find one of those stones on which they test gold? And if this stone to which I intended to take my soul were the best stone and it agreed that my soul had been well cared for, don’t you think I could know well at that point that I’m in good shape and need no further testing? (486d6-7).
Socrates goes on to say that it is Callicles, his interlocutor, who provides him with
such a test because Callicles is unashamed to say what he thinks, unlike Gorgias and
Polus, the other two interlocutors in the dialogue.
The problem with Gorgias and Polus is that they are both “wise and fond of
me [Socrates], but rather more lacking in frankness (parresías), and more ashamed
than they should be” (487a7-b2). Gorgias, in the first part of the dialogue, is too
ashamed to express his opinion that the oratorical skill can be divorced from justice
and can be employed as a method to gain power over those who do not know.
Gorgias’ failure to admit his genuine opinion makes his argument inconsistent and
makes it possible for Socrates to refute him (461b-c). Polus is also unwilling to depart
from conventional opinion. He is afraid to go against the “majority of mankind” who
agrees that “doing what is unjust is more shameful than suffering it” (475d). Without
admitting what he truly thinks - that suffering injustice is actually worse than
committing injustice – Polus fails to express his real opinion. Without expressing it
verbally, the opinion cannot be tested and refuted. Polus’ opinion remains, with its
potential inconsistencies and potential unhappy implications for future actions, part of
the make-up of his soul.
Gorgias’ and Polus’ failure to speak their minds is due to their social
engagement; they hold back their own thoughts out of a concern for what other
people may think.325 Shame, in particular, is a valuable mechanism that preserves
325
183
socially acceptable behavior in large groups. However, as Socrates makes clear,
shame is not an unambiguous good. In philosophical conversation, being ashamed to
say what one truly thinks hinders the quest for understanding and, ultimately, truth.
Unlike Gorgias and Polus, Callicles has no sense of shame. He speaks out
without regard for other people’s opinions (492d2 f.).326 Between Socrates and
Callicles, the testing of opinions is straightforward, without the interference of
feelings of shame that cloud the articulation of personally held beliefs. Callicles’
opinion is true to what he personally believes and stripped of appearances that result
from considerations of civility or good manners. If Callicles concurs with what
Socrates’ believes, then that “must be the very truth” (478a). Callicles’ frankness and
shamelessness are necessary, though not sufficient, conditions for the grounding of
truth.327
In the Gorgias, Callicles’ frankness concerns his opinions and beliefs. If
Callicles agrees with Socrates at any point in a discussion then “that point will have
been adequately put to the test by you and me” (487e).328 By contrast, in the Laws, the
Cf. Hösle (2006): “manchmal würde der Gesprächsteilnehmer gerne verstanden werden, aber er scheut sich vor den Konsequenzen seiner Ehrlichkeit. Diese können z. B. in einer Gesellschaft mit Inquisition rechtlicher Natur sein, sind aber oft genug nur sozialer Natur: Wer bestimmte Ansichten äußert, macht sich unmöglich, sei es moralisch, weil er etwa Thesen vertritt, die anständige Menschern verwerfen, sei es intellektuell, weil er etwa tradierte moralische Überzeugungen verteidigt, aus deren vermeinter Widerlegung die kritische Intelligenz ihr Selbstwertgefühl bezieht. Immer wieder sind es Schamgefühle, die den Menschen daran hindern oder es ihm zumindest erschweren aufrichtig zu sein,” 364.326
3
The fact that Callicles is the only historically unknown person in the dialogue and likely to be one of the few exclusively fictional creations of Plato could illustrate the idea that Callicles is a person who is rare in any society. It should be noted that Callicles is not completely shameless, cf. Hösle (2006): “Zwar hat auch Kallikles Schwierigkeiten, völlig schamlos zu sein; doch um seine Position konsistent zu halten, wird er sogar seine eigenen Intuitionen verleugnen (495a5 ff.),” 364327
3
According to Hösle, “[d]ie Begründung der Wahrheit sei nur durch die ehrliche Schamlosigkeit des Kallikles möglich, weil notwendig geworden,” (2006), 364.328
3
Emphasis ECDL.
184
testing of the soul aims at exposing the disposition of the soul (êthos psuchês) (650a5)
or the natures (phúseis) and habits (héxeis) of their soul (650b7). The disposition of
the soul depends on the way the passions (pleasure and liking, pain and hatred) are
arranged, not on the soundness of the argument provided (cf. Laws 653b2-6).
Moreover, in the Laws, the goal of testing and training is to produce shamefulness in
the soul, which facilitates peaceful coexistence in groups.
A.4 The Theaetetus: Testing the Offspring
The idea of testing arguments is present also in the Theaetetus (150c, 191c, 202e).
Socrates describes his art to Theaetetus as midwivery. Like a midwife, Socrates can
detect whether a person is barren or pregnant. Socrates himself, however, claims to be
past childbearing age. Like a midwife, Socrates has the power to bring about birth or,
if he considers it advisable, he can promote a ‘miscarriage’ (149d). Like a midwife,
he is also a clever matchmaker, knowing which couples will produce the best
children. The most important thing about Socrates’ art, however, is, in his own words:
“the ability to apply all possible tests to the offspring, to determine whether the young
mind is being delivered of a phantom, that is, an error, or a fertile truth” (150c). The
point is reiterated later in the dialogue when Socrates says that they “need to turn
every argument over and over and test it from all sides (191c).
185
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