Republic Recap Reaction

The reason the human arms in this photograph appear disjunctive is that the items being gripped by their respective grippers were out-of-focus the 1st time this snapshot was snapshitten; therefore slightly less soft-focused replacements were superimposed.

Here’s a picture of me holding Book 1 & Book 2 of my Public Private Diary, to commemorate the arrival of that 2nd volume. It showed up on my front doorstep just this instant: At first I didn’t see it there; then, when stepping forth, I slipped on it like a banana peel — thankfully I sustained no injury beyond my brain falling out... & also, please note that I am standing in front of the poster whose image was featured in my entry from 23 June 2020.

Dear diary,

How did I arrive at TWELVE as the projected number of volumes that shall exist once I’m finished transferring all the words that I’ve written here in black fire on white fire (on scrolling electric-screens) into paperback form? I wish I could say that I took Plato’s Republic as a model, and, since that has TEN books, I added a couple more in order to signify that my ideas are better than his. But the truth is that, after dragging all my online entries offline, & copying them into a word processor, & sizing the text so that it’s as small as possible while still remaining readable, I fixed my attention upon the total number of pages: Then I took that total and divided it by 350, for this seemed like a comfortable length for each journal to be — I want my readership to feel at ease while perusing my thots — and the calculation resulted in a perfect set of exactly twelve books. This figure worked out so well & so evenly, in fact, it was almost as if God had preordained it.

Now, as usual, for this present entry, I have no plan and nothing further to say; therefore, since I mentioned Plato’s Republic in passing, let me springboard off that…

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Just to refresh my mind, I glanced at the encyclopedia entry that gives a synopsis of all the Republic’s offerings, and now I wanna quote some of these rundowns and restatements, because it strikes me as suitably perverse to engage NOT with Plato’s text itself BUT RATHER with a secondhand retelling. This way, it will be like I’m a busybody repeating the neighborhood gossip while adding my own two cents into the treasury. One hopes this exercise will possess virtues similar to those of the game of Telephone (A.K.A. Chinese Whispers). Also, the level of genuine scholarship that this shall entail will fairly match the amount of respect that I have for Plato’s Republic. That is, I feel that it’s worth toying with, for an afternoon on a lightly rainy day, so long as, after that, I get to return to Shakespeare, Whitman, William Blake, and the King James Bible, which are worth dedicating the rest of my lifetime to.

RECAP REVIEW

My first reaction, upon looking into the encyclopedia’s recap of Plato’s Republic, is to note how different, even opposite Plato’s notions are from the so-called Republic that I was born in, the United States of America.

In Book 3, Socrates asserts that all wives and children should be shared, and that they be prohibited from owning private property.

For those who know nothing of Plato, I should explain that Socrates is one of his literary characters, thru which ideas flow; just as Jesus is one of the literary characters of Saint Mark.

Oh and I also should explain that I started with Book 3 because Books 1 & 2 bored me — at least their recaps did. Plus I just finished publishing MY OWN Book 1 and Book 2, of a projected set of 12 constituting The Public Private Diary of Bryan Ray, and I don’t want Plato’s claptrap to steal MY rightful spotlight.

But what should we do with the knowledge that Plato’s Socrates recommends the sharing alike of all women and children? Should we implement this idea and pass legislation to enforce it? Alright, let’s do that. Tomorrow and henceforward until the end of time, all wives belong to all of us Republicans, and so do all children. And there shall be no private property.

In Book 4, Socrates says that it is pointless to worry over specific laws, like those pertaining to contracts, since proper education ensures lawful behavior, and poor education causes lawlessness.

I’m going to miss the fun, bygone days of legal contracts, lawsuits, and lawyers, but I guess we need to get going on a plan to establish some sort of passable education. I’ll volunteer to be the first teacher. I’ll write a bunch of thots down into some books, and then everyone can read my thots and learn from them, and this will make all of us Republicans stay good. Now here’s another important detail from that fourth book:

In the physical education and diet of the guardians, the emphasis is on moderation, since both poverty and excessive wealth will corrupt them.

I don’t really care about physicality, and I’d rather be immoderate in my diet; but I’m willing to bow under the yoke of prudent control, in this case, for the sake of eliminating both the poor AND the rich. I’ve never quite liked either of those classes of people. The folks I love are the ones smack dab in the middle. We make up the Mediocre Mountain.

Socrates, having to his satisfaction defined the just constitution of both city and psyche, moves to elaborate upon these concepts’ unjust constitutions. Adeimantus and Polemarchus interrupt.

That’s from Book 5 now. I’m all for the idea of interrupting, so I’m cheering for Adeimantus and Polemarchus here. But let me interrupt their interruption to share more strange things Socrates sez:

Human reproduction ought to be regulated by the state. All offspring should be ignorant of their actual biological parents. The city should be presided over by a philosopher-king.

I happily accept the responsibility of being the city’s king. I can do that, no problem. Don’t worry: I have all the best philosophies, so you’re in good hands, believe me. And I love the idea of every person remaining ignorant of his fleshly parents: that’s a keeper of a concept. I’m in the process of legally implementing it immediately — I just gotta figure out how to word my decree.

But should the state “regulate human reproduction”? Hmm… Would that mean that abortion is legal or illegal? And what effect would this have on my stock portfolio?

In book 6, Socrates stresses that the philosopher-king must be intelligent, reliable, and willing to lead a simple life.

Fine, you don’t have to stress out about this. I AM already simple, smart as a whip, and eternally punctual.

In Book 7, Socrates insists that the psyche must be freed from bondage to the visible world by making the painful journey into the intelligible world.

If, by this, Plato’s Socrates means that we should all strive to be more in tune with the Poetic Genius, and to honor exuberant art above all automobiles or any other tangible goods that rust might corrupt, I’m all for it. — Yet, if he means something slightly different than what I just presumed, then we’ll need to sit down at the table and negotiate. I promise that I will not leave the meeting with a frown. I will be the first one to burst out of the door, and an yuge gaggle of reporters will be crouched there on the floor, kneeling before me, with their cameras blasting flash-photographs; and I will smile (neither scowl nor smirk!) and announce that I’ve made the Deal of the Century. And then I will hand everyone FREE KING-SIZE BOXES OF CHOCOLATE MINTS. [If you read the beginning of my entry from 19 August 2020 — you’ll understand this inside joke.]

Socrates elaborates upon the curriculum that a would-be philosopher-king must study. This is the origin of the quadrivium: arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music.

We’re still quoting from the synopsis of the seventh book. Of those subjects in the “quadrivium”, the only one that I like is music. So I think that Plato must have fallen off his rocker when he was writing this part of Book 7.

In Book 8, Socrates argues that a society will decay and pass through various forms of government in succession. The starting point is an imagined, alternate aristocracy (ruled by a philosopher-king); a just government dominated by the wisdom-loving element. When its social structure breaks down and enters civil war, it is replaced by timocracy. The timocratic government is dominated by the spirited element, with a ruling class of property-owners consisting of warriors or generals.

I excerpt this only because I find the presumptions of Plato’s Socrates perplexing here. I don’t think they’ll really happen, because we’ve done away with private property; plus we’ve promoted all our warriors and generals so that they serve as coaches and star players in soccer and volleyball teams. For we have sublimated warfare. But I sorta like the idea of allowing the government to be “dominated by our spirited element” — that sounds like it might be fun. Don’t knock it till ya try it.

When the emphasis on honor is compromised by wealth accumulation, it is replaced by oligarchy.

Wow. Here I guess we all shout repeatedly: “U.S.A.!” as Socrates continues:

The oligarchic government is dominated by the desiring element, in which the rich are the ruling class. The gap between rich and poor widens, culminating in a revolt by the underclass majority.

No, this will never happen. Our philosopher here is just indulging in wishful-thinking. Our U.S. ruling class has too strong of weapons — doesn’t Plato know that!? But more importantly they have such seductive propaganda — they make being brainwashed a matter of self-respect: “I’m PROUD to be a member of THIS group, which accepts THESE goofy lies about reality, rather than THOSE stupid fools over THERE who believe OTHER half-truths.”

The populism of the democratic government leads to mob rule.

This is wrong. It does not necessarily follow. It is a possibility but not a certainty; I’d argue it’s not even a probability. Gentle reader, when I meet Mister Plato in Dante’s Upper Hell, remind me to slap him. It’ll only be a symbolic slap — I’ll use my opera glove. He just deserves to be subtly bullied back. Perhaps we’ll fight a duel and nothing will come of it. But it will feel good to get off my chest that I hate that he said this. Or made Socrates say it, rather.

Now here’s a little more from the same eighth book:

A clever demagogue can exploit mob-rule to take power and establish tyranny. In a tyrannical government, the city is enslaved to the tyrant, who uses his guards to remove the best social elements and individuals from the city (since they threaten his ability to maintain power), while leaving intact or even fortifying the worst elements of the city. He will also provoke warfare to consolidate his position as leader.

I think it’s interesting that the U.S. seems to have skipped directly from the Oligarchy stage of government to the Tyranny stage, without ever having suffered thru Plato’s predicted Democratic stage. — That’s a noteworthy accomplishment.

One last part from the eighth book recap distracts me:

When a timocrat is defeated by the courts or vested interests, his son may respond by accumulating wealth so as to defend himself against the same predicament, thereby becoming an oligarch. This oligarch’s son, in turn, will grow up wealthy without having to practice thrift or moderation, and will be tempted and overwhelmed by his desires, so that he becomes democratic, valuing freedom above all.

Reading this, I feel like I’m watching an artist make a line drawing with a pen on paper, and all along it seems that the picture’s subject is going to end up as a ferocious lion; however, with a couple quick lines applied at the end, the image proves to be a tree by a stream of clear water.

In Book 9, Socrates describes how democratic man is torn between tyrannical passions and oligarchic discipline, and ends up in the middle ground: valuing all desires, both good and bad.

First, a question for myself: Am I a “democratic man”? Am I “torn between tyrannical passions and oligarchic discipline”? — I think I only have one tyrannical passion, and that’s for the works of the imagination. So is there an “oligarchic discipline” pulling me in the other direction, trying to tear me away from art? — I guess maybe the money-system has this effect. But it doesn’t pull hard, cuz I never do very much work for money.

I therefore conclude, yet again, that the song of Plato’s Socrates is out-of-key. (Or at least my tendentious cherry-picking of its encyclopedia recap is out-of-key.)

And as for that last idea of “valuing all desires, both good and bad.” I wonder: Is it truly possible to value a bad desire? What IS a bad desire? I’d say the urge to send your enemy to eternal damnation is a bad desire. So what would it look like to value this? Can such a thing be dragged, kicking & screaming, into pragmatic reality? My guess is: NO, nobody’s ever seen the face of this world’s God and lived to tell about it.

The tyrant’s most base desires and wildest passions overwhelm him, and he becomes driven by lust, using force and fraud to take whatever he wants. The tyrant is both a slave to his lusts, and a master to whomever he can enslave.

So you got LUST at the top of the pyramid, ruling over everything, driving its favored tyrant like a sports-car. And under this tyrant is the entire slave population, controlled by remote. — I like this picture. It’s got a nice symmetry to it. Or simplicity or whatever.

Now, to be clear, I wouldn’t want to live in a country that was organized as above: I just like the mural that Plato’s Socrates fingerpainted. I really admire the color scheme. And I’d gladly read a short story or novel about a villain who “uses force and fraud to take whatever he wants” — that’s the type of stuff that makes great literature:

Imagine a strong man with a giant firearm going from shop to shop in the Mega Mall and shouting: “I’ll take THAT, and THAT, and THAT!” and just stealing an item from each shop violently at gunpoint. It’d be thrilling to watch. You might be thinking: What’s he going to do with all those supplies? Cuz you just now witnessed him steal:

• a box of angel-hair pasta
• a battery operated twirling spaghetti fork
• a ceramic plate.

What could this madman be up to?

Tyranny is the regime with the least freedom and happiness, and the tyrant is most unhappy of all, since the regime and soul correspond. The tyrant’s desires are never fulfilled, and he must always live in fear of his victims.

This makes tyranny sound like hard work. (Remind me not to become a dissatisfied tyrant.) But I don’t believe that the regime and soul correspond: I think true tyrants can lay their soul to rest in the same suitcase where they keep their conscience; so they are immune from sharing in any of the unhappiness they incite. — But I do like this next part, because Plato basically equates the idea of friendship with freedom:

Because the tyrant can only think in terms of servant and master, he has no equals whom he can befriend; and, with no friends, the tyrant is robbed of freedom.

Also, tho, you can’t rob someone of something they never possessed. But I really do like that suggestion: “You’re only free if you have friends.” And then of course I instantly begin to feel sorry for all of us friendless folk.

Finally, in Book 10, Socrates rejects any form of imitative art and concludes that such artists have no place in the just city.

Only imitative art is prohibited? That’s fine with me. That matches the divine commandment “Thou shalt not make any likeness of any thing” (Exodus 20:4). I can handle that. I don’t really care if we artists must create non-imitative art — which is to say: abstract or surrealistic art — in order to achieve the most honored places in Plato’s Republic. I’m willing to compromise. Let’s sit down and have a meeting, draw up a contract. I’ll promise that, once we’ve reached an agreement, I’ll come bursting out the boardroom smiling again.

Artists create things but they are only different copies of the idea of the original.

Bravo, Plato. You figured out what makes artists so ineffable. They own the only wealth that the original cannot possess: the power of refraction. For if you’re the original Thing Itself, you just sit there all day and never change. (You can only reflect.) But artists are like the Thing Itself’s crossbred children, who keep generating variations on the ur-theme in the form of thrillions of further hybridized grand-kids.

Now here’s a direct quote of Socrates (via the mind of Plato and my own paraphrase of an English translation):

“Whenever any one informs us that he has found a man who knows all the arts, I think we can safely conclude that we are dealing with a simple creature who is likely to have been deceived by some wizard or actor whom he met.”

This is right. All actors deserve to be classed with wizards, and every artist should always boast of understanding ALL the arts. — Why not? Who’s going to question you? If a company rejects your job application because the facts that you inscribed upon it don’t match the reality shared by everyone else, then I wag my finger at you and say: Why the heck were you seeking gainful employment in the first place? Go in for your chances! spend for vast returns! — as Whitman always sez (at the end of section 14 of “Song of Myself”) — Adorn yourself to bestow yourself on the first that will take you!

But now back to Socrates:

“The same object appears straight when viewed out of the water, and crooked when in the water, owing to the illusions to which our sense of sight is liable. Thus every sort of confusion is revealed within us; and this is that weakness of the human mind on which the art of conjuring & deceiving by light & shadow & other ingenious devices imposes, having an effect upon us like magic.”

Everything’s fine here — I’d allow Plato’s affidavit to stand as he has given Socrates to deliver it; but, as long as both author and character have already signed it, let’s change that one word “weakness” to “strength”. I think it reads much better that way.

Because we are human, at times we cannot tell the difference between illusions and confusion.

You can strike that phrase “at times” — for this is a perpetual talent, which let us never be dispossessed of. I fervently hope that we can pass it on to our robotic successors. It’s like a seed that, when watered, grows into genius poetry.

Last quote (I’m outta time):

“Poetry feeds and waters the passions instead of drying them up; she lets them rule, although they ought to be controlled...”

Everything after “rule”, I permit you to blot.