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D. C. Schindler

The allegory of the cave that Socrates presents after the images of the sun (q.v.) and

the divided line (q.v.) is an image of education ( Republic 514a; q.v. Education), which Plato says elsewhere is the only acquisition one retains after death ( Phaedo 108d). This clus-ter of images serves to unpack in detail the dense series of claims Socrates makes about the ‘greatest study’, which provides the meas-ure for all other studies, namely, the idea of the good (R. 505a–6a ). The cluster occurs in the middle of a discussion of the nature of philosophy and towards the end of the long interruption that occupies the central books of the R. (bks 5–7), and so falls between the

‘peak’ of the city as a kingship or aristocracy (445c–d) and its decline into increasingly less perfect orders. It can be said to represent a paradigm outside of the whole discussion that stands as the ultimate reference point for the city described within that discussion (cf., 472c–3a) just as the idea of the good explicated in these images represents the ulti-mate standard for all thought and deed. The argument regarding the good and the soul’s relationship with it that comes to expression in these passages is, among other things, the basic response to the challenges presented to Socrates by Glaucon and Adeimantus at the beginning of the main body of the dialogue.

Socrates insists the allegory must be con-nected with ‘what was said before’ (517a–b), that is the images of the sun and the line. If the sun image introduced the epistemologi-cal and ontologiepistemologi-cal significance of the good, drawing a distinction between the realm of the sensible, which is mixed with darkness, and the realm of the intelligible illumined by the light, the line image subdivides the realms and articulates their relationships to one another mathematically. The cave image draws on the epistemological and ontologi-cal role of the good illustrated in the sun and on the notion of levels of reality and stages of the apprehension of truth illustrated in

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146 the line, bringing these together in what may be called a ‘moving image’, that is the mini-drama of education as a liberation from the slavery of ignorance. The various parts of the cave image symbolize an order of life (ethics and politics) based on the nature of reality and the soul’s apprehension of it (met-aphysics and epistemology). Scholars have rejected any simple one-to-one correspond-ence between the segments of the line and the stages of education in the cave, but the inference that the cave allegory ought there-fore to be read independently of the previous images, and in some cases independently of the dialogue as a whole, is unwarranted.

The sun in the cave image represents the idea of the good, which Socrates calls the ‘cause of all that is right and beautiful’

(517c), both of the sun and its light in the visible realm and of truth and understanding in the intelligible realm. The things outside of the cave are intelligible objects – presumably the forms (q.v.) – and the artefacts inside the cave presumably represent visible, that is physical things. While Socrates does not explain the significance of the shadows cast upon the cave wall, we may interpret them, in light of Socrates’ general discussion of the problem of education in the R. , as the ‘imita-tion’ of reality in the poets’ (and the sophists’) speeches, and perhaps also as a reference to the ‘noble lie’ used to impose political order on the ignorant (cf., 414b–c, 459c–d).

The cave image presents three basic con-ditions of our nature in its education: first, we begin as bound at the bottom, so that the shadows and sounds reflected off the back wall constitute the whole of our experi-ence (514a–15c); second, we may be turned around while still in the cave so that we may see the fire light and the artefacts that cast their shadows; third, we may be dragged out of the cave into the world illuminated by the

sun. This last level unfolds gradually in five steps (shadows, reflections in water, things themselves, the heavens and heavenly bodies at night and the sun). Socrates explains that education is a ‘turning around of the whole soul’ (518c) – that is, not the introduction of intelligence, but a directing of this already extant power along with our soul’s spirited nature and appetites (cf., the ‘parts’ of the soul, 436a–b) towards the good. The edu-cated and uneduedu-cated soul prove to be polar opposites: the latter measures everything it encounters against its ‘truth’, namely, the

‘shadows of artificial things’ (515c) and so experiences confusion in relation to reality;

the former measures everything by the good, the most complete standard (cf., 504c) and so finds itself at a loss when it faces, once again, the darkness of the cave.

Because education involves a fundamental reordering of desire (q.v.), the prisoners must be released by someone outside of them-selves and be forced out of the cave (since they would be able to liberate themselves only if their desires were already properly ordered). This, however, entails an infinite regress problem that Plato does not explicitly address. Socrates suggests that the prisoners would resist their liberator, and would in fact kill him if they had the chance (517a – a reference to Socrates?). When the prisoners are first released, they become dazzled by the firelight and so lose the ability to make out the shadows. What appears to be a state of confusion, however, is in reality an advance towards truth. The confusion intensifies when the prisoners enter out into the light of day, that is, the realm of the intelligible.

However, once their eyes grow accustomed to the light at its source, they in turn come to pity those who are still inside the cave, and would ‘prefer to undergo everything rather than live that way’ (516d–e). The reason

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147 for the philosopher’s return to the cave, which Socrates insists is necessary (519c–d), remains controversial; the stated explanation is that, in the city, private interest must ulti-mately be subordinated to the common good (519e–20d). Thus, it is the universal truth of the idea of the good that requires both an ascent out of the cave and then a descent back into the cave, in both cases against one’s apparent desire.

CHARACTER (TOPIC)

Ruby Blondell

The English word ‘character’ may denote – among other things – both (moral) charac-ter and a theatrical dramatis persona. In the former sense it approximates to the Greek ethos , which embraces both moral qualities and the social and personal features that help to construct, embody and convey these quali-ties (such as age, status, social relationships, gender, way of life, deportment, physiog-nomy and manner of speaking). Ethos also covers intellectual traits, that is, the rational and rhetorical skills and attitudes that are used to reach and convey moral choices. For character in the latter sense – the theatrical or literary – Greek normally uses a differ-ent word ( prosopon ); yet the two concepts remain intimately linked. Literary charac-ters are conceived of, and represented, in the first place as embodiments of moral quali-ties, while philosophers show a strong con-cern with character types and their external expression both in actual people and in the arts, especially theatre.

In English, ‘character’ often refers to moral character as detached from physical circum-stances, or as opposed to individual quirks of ‘personality’, which are often viewed as

‘non-moral’, or irrelevant to assessing a per-son’s character. But in ancient Greek terms all such features have potentially ethical implications, since they are viewed as consti-tuting, expressing and/or representing ethos . Characteristics that might now be seen as quirks of personality tend to be viewed as simultaneously formative and indicative of both social identity and moral character. Yet, the human ideal remains one of simplicity and harmony. In literature, philosophy and the visual arts, idiosyncrasy, whether physi-cal or psychologiphysi-cal, tends to denote not spe-cial beauty or appeal but a departure from some ideal and more homogeneous ethical and/or aesthetic standard.

There is a close relationship in Greek cul-ture generally, and Plato in particular, between character in both the above senses and educa-tion. Almost all ancient Greek writers assume that the representation of persons exerts on its consumers (actors, audience, readers or listeners) an emotional effect that tends to assimilate them to the characters represented (on this ‘mimêtic pedagogy;’ see Blondell 2002:80–112). Traditional educational mod-els, such as Homer’s heroes, may have certain positive traits, but in general, their impact is presented as overwhelmingly negative. Plato’s characters, especially Socrates, often criticize the educational use of such poetry; in addi-tion, Plato as author defuses the threat of traditional character models both by co-opt-ing them for his own purposes and by sup-planting them in his own works. In Hippias Minor , for example, he uses Socrates to chal-lenge the educational value of Achilles and Odysseus, but also appropriates these heroes for his own use (Blondell 2002:113–64). The most important positive character model in Plato’s works is Socrates, who is marked, paradoxically, by an unparalleled degree of physical and intellectual idiosyncrasy.

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148 Plato’s pervasive concern with human character, its formation and representation, is central to the Republic , which provides a fully developed picture of the character required for the philosopher-rulers of Callipolis. This ideal incorporates a long list of admirable qualities, which may be summarised as vig-our and gentleness in mind and body. It is to be achieved through three stages of char-acter formation. First, the young guardians must have the right natural inclinations and capacities . Second, these traits must be fos-tered from infancy by cultural education , including poetry and the visual arts as well as physical training; at this stage the young guardians’ characters are to be ‘molded’ by the right kind of poetry and storytelling, which will use appropriate literary role mod-els to ‘dye’ their souls indelibly with right opinion (429c–30b). Finally the guardians are subjected to many years of higher educa-tion (519c), largely mathematical in nature;

this culminates in dialectic, which eventually allows the truly superior soul to reach the vision of the forms.

The resulting ideal character is uniform and homogenous since, as Socrates puts it,

‘there is one form of virtue, but the forms of vice are unlimited’ (445c). This means not only that there are many more ways of being bad than being good, but also that within each individual complexity and variation of character are to be frowned upon in contrast to the simple and homogeneous. The belief that the virtuous ethos is simple the complex inferior (604e) is one important reason for Socrates’ famous disapproval of imitation (q.v.), since sympathetic identification with a range of characters is expected to fragment the guardians’ own ethos . This quest for a sin-gle perfect character-type is a central aspect of the dialogue’s pervasive concern with sta-bility, homogeneity and unity, and hostility to

plurality and change. The philosopher-rulers are defined by their ability to see beyond the distracting multiplicity of the phenom-enal world to the homogeneous unity of the forms (474b–6d). The same vision informs their characters. Like the statue of the per-fectly just man (361d), the undifferentiated model of the philosopher-ruler lacks distract-ing personal detail, providdistract-ing an abstract, impersonal ideal of philosophical perfection.

Only their level of progress on a linear scale differentiates the guardians.

This ideal is developed still further in the Theaetetus , where ‘likeness to god’ (176b) – an idealized state of epistemic, ethical and personal self-consistency and stability – is presented by Socrates as the ultimate human ideal. Ironically, however, this ideal remains unattainable as long as we are, in fact, embodied human beings. Plato seems well aware of this. The ideal philosopher in the Theaetetus is paired with his anti-ideal, the orator, who is fully engaged in the messy business of Athenian social and political life.

We are left to infer that the best any real human being can do is to negotiate between these two poles, striving for ‘likeness to god’

while acknowledging her inescapable embed-dedness in the material and social world that makes such a goal ultimately unattainable.

The ever-paradoxical Socrates models this mediating role for us.

CITY (POLIS)

Richard Stalley

In his political and moral philosophy, Plato takes it for granted that he is dealing with life in the Greek polis (plural poleis ), a small independent city state. His two long-est works, the Republic and the Laws , both

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149 describe imaginary cities. While they are in many respects different from each other, they arguably embody very similar conceptions of the nature and purpose of the polis . The underlying principles are brought out most clearly in the R ., which describes an ideal that is unlikely ever to exist. The Lg . shows how they might be embodied in a more prac-tical form.

The city comes into being because indi-viduals in isolation cannot provide all they need for survival ( R . 369b7–73d). But its main function is certainly not to accumu-late wealth. The ideal location for a city is one that will provide all the necessities of human life without producing a surplus to permit trade and luxurious living ( Lg . 704a1–5c7). There are, in fact, three main kinds of functions which must be fulfilled effectively if a city is to survive and prosper.

The first is to provide for the production of food and manufactured articles and for the buying and selling of these. The second is to wage war and the third is to govern itself wisely. A distinctively Platonic idea is that each of these roles should be performed exclusively by people with the appropriate training and aptitudes and that confusing them can undermine and even destroy the city ( R . 412b9–15d3).

To avoid this confusion of roles, the ideal city of the R . would be based on a division of the citizens into three classes: (a) those involved in farming, manufacture and trade;

(b) the soldiers or guardians ( phulakes ); and (c) the rulers ( R . 373d–4e). Those destined to be soldiers would be selected in early child-hood and undergo a long training. The rulers would be chosen from the best and wisest of the guardians to undergo a philosophical training that would ultimately enable them to achieve a rational understanding of the good and the just ( R . 502c–41b). In the more

practical city of the Lg . the confusion of roles is avoided by different means. Citizens will be forbidden to engage in trade and manu-facture – those tasks will be left to resident aliens ( Lg . 846d1–7b6, 918a6–20a4). All citizens will serve in the army and take some part in government but the latter is still con-ceived as a work of reason. The city is there-fore controlled by a strict code of law (q.v.) established by a wise legislator and the most important positions are assigned to the oldest and wisest citizens.

Plato believes that the good of the city requires that its citizens possess the virtues of wisdom, courage, temperance and justice. A central concern of the city is therefore to pro-vide an education (q.v.), which will develop the right kind of character in its citizens. In the R . there is a long account of the train-ing in poetry, music and gymnastics that will inculcate the virtues and a similar education is prescribed in the Lg .

Plato also assumes that whatever makes for the unity of the city is good, while any-thing that pulls it apart is bad (see Schofield 2006:212–33). Unity requires shared feel-ings and friendship (q.v.) among the citi-zens. One major obstacle is the pursuit of wealth. In existing cities rulers use their power to pursue their own economic inter-ests and to exploit their fellow citizens ( R . 416d–17b). Differences in wealth also cre-ate conflict between the rich and the poor ( R . 421d–3b). To avoid these outcomes sol-diers and rulers in the ideal city of the R . would have no homes or property of their own but would live together like soldiers in a camp. In the Lg ., a different, and presum-ably more practical, solution is suggested.

Each citizen family will have its own farm, which will be inalienable. The farms will be of equal size and the amount of wealth that can be accumulated in addition to the farm

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150 will be limited ( Lg . 737b5–d8, 739e7–41a5, 744d2–5b2). The disruptive effect of differ-ences in wealth will thus be kept to a mini-mum (see Morrow 1960:95–152; Stalley 1983:97–111).

Another threat to the unity of the city is that citizens may feel loyalty to their family rather than to the city as a whole. In the ideal city of the R ., this danger would be avoided by the abolition of the family. Mating among the guardians would be arranged by the rul-ers and the children resulting from this would be brought up in common. No one would be able to identify their biological parents or off-spring ( R . 457b7–66d7). This would ensure that citizens share feelings of pleasure and pain. There is no such proposal for the city of the Lg . Indeed, its citizens would be legally required to marry ( Lg . 772c5–4d2). The point seems to be that, in practise, the unity of the city will be preserved by the careful regulation of the family and by institutions such as com-mon meals and shared religious rites.

In the R . Plato uses the tripartite structure of his ideal city to elucidate the structure of the human soul. This, together with the emphasis on the unity of the city and aboli-tion of property and families for the guard-ians, has led some commentators to suppose that Plato is concerned for the good of the city as opposed to that of its citizens. The latter are seen merely as parts of a larger whole, having no independent value. Other commentators have argued that, when Plato speaks of the good of the city, he really has in mind the happiness of all the citizens (see Taylor 1986). Plato would probably see a false antithesis here. On his conception a worthwhile life requires membership of a city. The good of the individual consists in possessing the very virtues that are needed for the survival of the city and cannot be acquired outside it.

CONVENTION (see Law)

COSMOS (KOSMOS)

Gretchen Reydams-Schils

The Timaeus is the principal dialogue for studying Plato’s view of the cosmos, though

The Timaeus is the principal dialogue for studying Plato’s view of the cosmos, though