“Don’t you know that the beginning is the most important place of every work and that this is especially so with anything young and tender? For at that stage it’s most plastic, and each thing assimilates itself to the model whose stamp anyone wishes to give it.”
Plato, Republic, Book II
Welcome back to my series on Plato’s Republic! As I shared in my first article, I’m producing this series for two reasons. First, I want to make Plato more accessible to everyone. Part of preserving the western intellectual tradition, or at least, not losing it, entails cracking open the books of old to rediscover what ideas they contain. Second, and most relevant for educators, Plato’s Republic contains ideas that have immense implications for education today. By going back in time to consider these ideas, educators can gain fresh insight into the nature and purpose of education, paving the way for an educational renaissance that fuses together the best of ancient wisdom and modern research.
In Book I of the Republic, Socrates and his friends are left at a stalemate. They have attempted to defend the value of justice only to encounter a state of aporia, that is, uncertainty or doubt, instead. This conclusion to Book I is intentional on Plato’s part. He wants his readers to actively engage with his writings, thereby experiencing the joys and frustrations of intellectual inquiry for themselves. For Plato, encountering aporia is a crucial step in the learning process. Only by truly realizing one’s lack of understanding will one truly desire to grow in knowledge of the matter.
In today’s blog, I will take a closer look at Book II of the Republic. In this section, Socrates and his friends make progress in their inquiry regarding the nature of justice. First, they revisit whether justice is more desirable than injustice in the first place. Then Socrates puts forward his account of a just city to illustrate at a macro-level the origins of justice. Finally, Socrates and his friends discuss how the guardians, the warrior-leaders of the city, ought to be educated. Let’s take each of these in stride.
To be Just, or Unjust, That is the Question
In Book I, Socrates and Thrasymachus, the infamous Sophist, engaged in a heated debate over the definition of justice, specifically whether the just life is worth pursuing after all. Thrasymachus made a compelling case that life is merely a struggle for power and that it is clear to any rational person that injustice leads to greater success in the long run. Socrates refused to accept this position, insisting that justice cannot be reduced to power. He defined justice as the virtue of the soul and argued that without justice, the soul is left miserable, purposeless, and without direction.
As we turn to Book II, we see that Glaucon and Adeimantus find Socrates’ viewpoint attractive, but would like him to elaborate. After all, Thrasymachus has a point that injustice appears to triumph over justice more often than not. If Socrates is going to convince them, much less anyone else, he will need to go into further detail on what precisely is so desirable about justice.
To get the conversation going, Glaucon suggests that all human goods can be classified into three general categories of desire (357c). The question becomes: Where does justice belong?
The three categories are as follows:
- Things that are desirable in and of themselves, things like enjoyment
- Things that are desirable intrinsically and extrinsically, that is, they are desirable in and of themselves, but also bring beneficial consequences. Things like: knowledge, health, sight
- Things that are only desirable for their consequences, such as physical exercise, medical treatment, and financially profitable activities
Socrates’ inclination is to place justice in the second category, the one reserved for things that are desirable in themselves as well as the consequences they bring (358a). Glaucon responds that this may be correct, but it is not the opinion of the majority. Most people tend to view justice in the third category, as a form of drudgery that nonetheless leads to fortuitous results.
To illustrate this point, let us say that I aspire to be a world-class table tennis player. I may be tempted at times to find ways to compete unjustly in order to expedite my international advancement. After all, if I lose an important match, say an important qualifying round, it could set back my career goal for decades. On the other hand, if it is publicly revealed that I have used an illegal paddle or weighted the ball illicitly, then my career may be permanently over. The upshot is that behaving justly in this situation is a form of drudgery (it may take years for me to receive international recognition for my skill), but it will likely serve me better in the long-run (no skeletons in the closet).
Notice that my chief motivation for behaving justly in the example above is not justice in and of itself. It is what justice brings me. This is a problem, thinks Glaucon, and he tells his own story to demonstrate why (359d).
The Myth of the Ring of Gyges
There once was a shepherd named Gyges, narrates Glaucon, tending his flock in a nearby field. Suddenly an earthquake strikes, causing Gyges to fall into a recess in the earth. Down in the recess, he chances upon a magic ring that allows him to turn invisible. As the story goes, it doesn’t take long for Gyges to realize the fresh opportunities that now await him. He uses the power of the ring for personal advancement. He seduces the queen, conquers the king, and declares himself the new ruler of the kingdom.
Now, to be clear, Gyges’ behavior here is horrid. We would like to think that the just person would act differently. Not so fast, says Glaucon. Suppose there are two rings of the type discovered by Gyges, one worn by a just man and the other by the unjust man. Glaucon argues that both men would behave exactly the same way. Why? If justice is only valuable for the benefits it offers, then it makes no difference whether one is just or unjust so long as one is not found out.
Glaucon uses this story to illustrate the problem associated with placing justice in the third category or even the second category for that matter. The appearance of being just is often more desirable than actually being just. As long as justice is desired for its benefits, one is inclined to put on the façade of behaving justly while secretly behaving otherwise.
Justice as Intrinsically Desirable
Adeimantus, the brother of Glaucon, underscores this point, demonstrating how justice is deployed for expedient ends in both Greek literature and everyday life (362e). He references the likes of Hesiod and Homer to demonstrate that Greek myths teach that justice ought to be pursued for the rich well of blessings it brings. Additionally, he acknowledges,
“No doubt, fathers say to their sons and exhort them, as do all those who have care of anyone, that one must be just. However, they don’t praise justice by itself but the good reputations that come from it; they exhort their charges to be just so that, as a result of the opinion, ruling offices and marriages will come to the one who seems to be just…” (363a)
If Glaucon and Adeimantus’ concerns are accurate, then people are often just merely out of coercion. That is, they fear the social consequences of acting otherwise. This is a problem. As long as justice is desired for its benefits, the temptation to put on the facade of justice without actually being just will be a temptation. Thus, in order to give a rigorous defense for the value of justice, Socrates and his friends concur that justice must be defended as a good that is desirable in and of itself.
Otherwise, as Plato scholar Julia Annas puts it,
“Why be just, if you can get away with merely seeming to be just while in fact reaping the rewards of injustice?” (68).
An Introduction to Plato’s Republic, Oxford University Press, 1981
As you can see, a difficult task has been set for Socrates. In his account of justice, he must demonstrate that it is desirable to be just even if one has the absolute guarantee that one’s injustice will not be found out. In other words, he must show that it is desirable to be just even if one suffers for it (69). Additionally, he must prove that “…it is undesirable to be unjust even with all the rewards that conventionally attach to the appearance of justice” (69). It is not worth being unjust even if one chances upon Gyges’ ring.
Building the Just City
Now that the group has agreed upon its terms for determining justice’s worth, Socrates prepares to offer his account of justice, beginning with its origins. To do so, he leads his friends to engage in a thought experiment regarding the origins of justice, not in an individual, but in a city (368e). If they can discover the origins of justice in a city, thinks Socrates, they will be able to apply this understanding to the origins of justice in the soul.
Socrates begins with the premise that cities are founded based on the realization that humans are not self-sufficient. They need the help of one another for the provision of basic necessities: food, shelter, clothing, etc. Socrates suggests that in order for a city to be self-sufficient, a minimum of four individuals is needed to take up the following productive roles: farming, housebuilding, weaving, and shoemaking (369d). er
In order to be most efficient, the principle of specialization is employed. Each individual will specialize in her own craft, rather than seeking to master all of them. This will lead to greater production in both quantity and quality over time. Soon enough, however, it becomes clear that in order for these four individuals to truly do their jobs well, they will need additional supplies, the goods produced by carpenters, smiths, craftsmen, shepherds, and even merchants (371a). Thus, the city slowly expands.
So far, no reference to justice has been made. Socrates is still establishing his framework for the city. Due to its meager provisions, Glaucon critiques it as “a city for pigs,” and Socrates concedes the point that as currently described, the city is unrealistic. So they begin to introduce certain luxurious elements into the healthy city, making it a feverish, or unhealthy, one (372e).
The problem is that with luxury comes excess of desire. Socrates describes it well:
“Then the city must be made bigger again. This healthy one isn’t adequate any more, but must already be gorged with a bulky mass of things, which are not in cities because of necessity–all the hunters and imitators, many concerned with figures and colors, many with music; and poets and their helpers, rhapsodes, actors, choral dancers, contractors, and craftsmen of all sorts of equipment, for feminine adornment as well as other things…” (373b).
To Conquer and Defend
Up until this point, the simplicity and idyllic nature of the city is largely attractive. Wouldn’t it be lovely if such a city existed? If only! While Socrates isn’t a Christian, he has keen insight into the nature of human beings. He understands how luxury invites desire and that desire has no limits.
The result is that our beloved city, now injected with the thrills of luxury, must conquer neighboring lands in order to maintain its lifestyle. This ability to conquer, and defend, requires a standing army of specially trained warriors, following the principle of specialization, in the art of warfare (375b).
These warriors, whom Socrates calls guardians, will not only need specialized training in how to use their weapons masterfully. Given their crucial role as defenders of the city, the guardians will need extended leisure time to remain dedicated to their civic duty. Moreover, they will need to be trained to be both gentle and great-spirited in order to be kind to their own and vigilant in warfare with their enemies.
A Guardian Education
Just as a guard dog is trained to differentiate between friend and foe, so the guardians will need to be educated if they are to protect the city from invaders. This education will consist of training both the body (gymnastic) and soul (music and poetry). The knowledge they gain will equip them to not only physically defend the city, but discern what is good for it. Therefore, thinks Socrates, it is crucial for the guardians to be trained as philosophers, that is, lovers of wisdom. Socrates summarizes,
“Then the man who’s going to be a fine and good guardian of the city for us will be in his nature be philosophic, spirited, swift, and strong” (376c).
Additionally, the musical, or soul-craft, education of the guardians must begin from a young age. Socrates puts the point firmly:
“Don’t you know that the beginning is the most important place of every work and that this is especially so with anything young and tender? For at that stage it’s most plastic, and each thing assimilates itself to the model whose stamp anyone wishes to give it.” 377b
Tuning the Soul
Given the high stakes of the musical, or soul-craft, education of the guardians, Socrates insists that the stories and poetry presented to the student guardians must be scrutinized. This instruction, after all, is shaping their souls to know and love what is good. Only the most fine and beautiful stories will be permitted (377b).
Major works like Homer and Hesiod must be censured heavily. Stories that give false images or representations of what gods and heroes are like will be thrown out. These stories endorse terrible behavior, such as irreverent actions toward parents or being easily provoked to anger. (378b). They include episodes in which children rebel against their parents and parents abuse their children. Given that the young cannot distinguish between what is commendable and what is not, these stories must not be told.
Instead, all literature–epics, lyrics, tragedies, stories–must represent the gods as good. Bad things don’t come from good gods, Socrates insists. Only good comes from the gods. He concludes, “These stories are not pious, not advantageous to us, and not consistent with one another” (380c).
Moreover, stories in which the gods change forms must be censured. Change implies imperfection at best and corruptibility at worst. Student guardians must be taught that the gods are good, immutable, and truthful. But this is exactly the opposite depiction of the gods in the major legends.
“A god, then, is simple and true in word and deed. He doesn’t change himself or deceive others by images, words, or signs, whether in visions or in dreams” (382e).
The goal for the musical education of the guardians is to be as god-like and god-fearing as possible (383c). They are, after all, the defenders of the city. They are civic trustees, tasked with the responsibility to perpetuated the city’s flourishing and vitality. in this way, the future of the city is bound up in the education of the guardian class.
Application for Educators
Thus concludes Book II of Plato’s Republic. Justice has been categorized as a good that must be proven to be desirable in and of itself. Socrates has begun constructing his hypothetical city to identify the origins of justice and injustice. And a description of the education of the guardian class, the city’s noble defenders, is underway.
While this article must come to a close, let me leave educators with two practical takeaways.
First, I encourage readers who are interested in learning more about Plato’s idea of musical (soul-craft) education to check out Kevin Clark and Ravi Jain’s The Liberal Arts Tradition. In this book, they provide a helpful summary on how teachers can engage in the important work of shaping the moral and religious imaginations of their students through the power of story. You can read a great review of the book written by Jason Barney here.
Second, as I was reading Plato’s section on what stories and poetry to put before students, I could not help but think of Charlotte Mason. In her writings, she is clear that children are to read and narrate only the best books, books that contain living ideas. I look forward to writing more about this in the future.