Latest / The Philosophy Insights Collection / 08 - The Republic - Plato
Transcript
- Book two, Part four. Come then, and let us pass a leisure hour in story telling. And our story shall be the education of our heroes by all means. And what shall be their education? Can we find it better than the traditional sort? And this has two divisions, gymnastic for the body and music for the soul? True? Shall we begin education with music and go on to gymnastic afterwards by all means? And when you speak of music, do you include literature or not? I do, And literature may be either true or false. Yes, and the young shall be trained in both kinds, and we begin with the false. I do not understand your meaning, he said. You know, I said that we begin by telling children stories which, though not wholly destitute of truth, are in the main fictitious. And these stories are told to them when they are not of age to learn gymnastics. Very true, That was my meaning when I said that we must teach music before gymnastics. Quite right, he said, You know also that the beginning is the most important part of any work, especially in the case of a young and tender thing, for that is the time at which character is being formed and the desired impression is more readily taken. Quite true. And shall we just carelessly allow children to hear any casual tales which may be devised by casual persons, and to receive into their mind's ideas, for the most part, the very opposite of those which we should wish them to have when they are grown up. We cannot. Then, The first thing will be to establish a censorship of the writers of fiction, And let the censors receive any tale of fiction which is good, I reject the bad. And we will desire mothers and nurses to tell their children the authorized ones. Only let them fashion the mind with such tales even more fondly than they would mold the body with their hands. But most of those which are now in use must be discarded. Of Which tales are you speaking, he said, You may find a model of the lesser in the greater, I said, for they are necessarily of the same type, and there is the same spirit in both of them. Very likely, he replied, But I do not as yet know what you would turn the greater. Those, I said, which are narrated by Homer and Hesioid, and the rest of the poets, which have ever been the great story tellers of mankind. But which stories do you mean? He said, And what fault you find with him? A fault which is most serious, I said, the fault of telling a lie, and what is more, a bad lie. But when is this fault committed? Whenever an erroneous representation is made of the nature of gods and heroes, as when her painter paints a portrait not having the shadow of a likeness to the original. Yes, he said, that sort of thing is certainly very blameable. But what are the stories which you mean? First of all? I said, there was that greatest of all lies in high places, which the poet told about Uranus, and which was a bad lie too. I mean what Hesioid says that Uranus did, and how Cronus retaliated on him. The doings of Cronus, and the sufferings which in turn his son inflicted upon him, even if they were true, ought certainly not to be lightly told to young and thoughtless persons. If possible, they had better be buried in silence. But if there is an absolute necessity for their mention, a chosen few might hear them in a mystery, and they should sacrifice not a common Eleusian pig, but some huge and unprocurable victim, and then the number of the hearers will be very few. Indeed, why, yes, he said, those stories are extremely objectionable. Yes, adeimantus, they are stories not to be repeated in our state. The young man should not be told that in committing the worst of crimes, he is far from doing anything outrageous, and that even if he chastises his father, when he does wrong in whatever manner, he will only be following the example of the first and greatest among the gods. I entirely agree with you, he said, in my opinion, those stories are quite unfit to be repeated. Neither if we mean future guardians to regard the habit of quarreling among themselves as of all things the basest. Should anything be said to them of the wars in heaven and of the plots and fightings of the gods against one another, for they are not true. No, we shall never mention the battles of the Giant, or let them be embroidered on garments, and we shall be silent about the innumerable other quarrels of gods and heroes with their friends and relatives. If they would only believe us, we would tell them that quarreling is unholy, and that never up to this time has there been any quarrel between citizens. This is what old men and old women should begin telling children, and when they grow up, the poets also should be told to compose for them in a similar spirit. But the narrative of Hephaestus binding here his mother, or how on another occasion Zeus sent him flying for taking her part when she was being beaten, and all the battles of the gods in Homer, these tales must not be admitted into our state, whether they are supposed to have an allegorical meaning or not. For a young person cannot judge what is allegorical and what is literal. Anything that he receives into his mind at that age is likely to become indelible and unalterable, And therefore it is most important that the tales which the young first hear should be models of virtuous thoughts. There you are right, he replied. But if any one and ask where are such models to be found? And of what tales are you speaking, how shall we answer him? I said to him, You and I Adeimantus, at this moment are not poets, but founders of a state. Now, the founders of a state ought to know the general forms in which poets should cast their tales, and the limits which must be observed by them. But to make the tales is not their business. Very true, he said, But what are these forms of theology which you mean? Something of this kind? I replied. God is always to be represented as he truly is, whatever be the sort of poetry, epic, lyric, or tragic in which the representation is given, right, And is he not truly good? And must he not be represented as such? Certainly? And no good thing is hurtful, No, indeed, And that which is not hurtful hurts not, certainly not. And that which hurts not does no evil. No. And can that which does no evil be a cause of evil? Impossible? And the good is advantageous, yes, and therefore the cause of well being. Yes. It follows therefore that the good is not the cause of all things, but of the good only. Assuredly, Then, God, if he be good, is not the author of all things, as the many assert, But he is the cause of a few things only, and not of most things that occur to men. For few are the goods of human life, and many are the evils, and the good is to be attributed to God alone of the evils. The causes are to be sought elsewhere, and not in him, that appears to me to be most true. He said, then we must not listen to Homer or to any other poet who is guilty of the folly of saying that two castes lie at the threshold of Zeus, full of lots, one of good, the other of evil lots. And that he to whom Zeus gives a mixture of the two, sometimes meets with evil fortune, at other times with good. But that he to whom is given the cup of unmingled ill him. Wild hunger drives o'er the beauteous earth. And again Zeus, who is the dispenser of good and evil to us. And if anyone asserts that the violation of oaths and treaties, which was really the work of Pandarus, was brought about by Athene and Zeus, or that the strife and contention of the gods was instigated by Famous and Zeus, he shall not have our approval. Neither will we allow our young men to hear the words of Esculus. Thus God plants guilt among men when he desires utterly to destroy a house. And if a poet writes of the sufferings of Niobe, the subject of the tragedy in which these Iambic verses occur, or of the house of Pelops, or of the Trojan war, or on any similar theme, either we must not permit him to say that these are the works of God. Or if they are of God, he must devise some explanation of them, such as we are seeking. He must say that God did what was just and right, and that they were the better for being punished, but that those who are punished are miserable, and that God is the author of their misery. The poet is not to be permitted to say, though he may say that the wicked of miserable because they require to be punished and are benefit fitted by receiving punishment from God, but that God, being good, is the author of evil. To anyone is to be strenuously denied, and not to be said or sung, or heard in verse or prose by any one, whether old or young, in any well ordered commonwealth. Such a fiction is suicidal, ruinous, impious. I agree with you, he replied, and am ready to give my assent to the law. Let this then be one of our rules and principles concerning the Gods to which our poets and reciters will be expected to conform. That God is not the author of all things, but of good only that will do he said, And what do you think of a second principle? Shall I ask? Whether God is a magician and of a nature to appear insidiously, now in one shape and now in another, sometimes himself changing and passing in the many forms, sometimes deceiving us with the semblance of such transformations. Or is he one and the same, immutably fixed in his own proper image. I cannot answer you, he said, dead without more thought. Well, I said, but if we suppose a change in anything, that change must be affected either by the thing itself or by some other thing, most certainly, and things which are at their best are also least liable to be altered or discomposed. For example, when healthiest and strongest, the human frame is least liable to be affected by meats and drinks. And the plant, which is in the fullest vigor, also suffers least from winds or the heat of the sun, or any similar causes, of course, and will not the bravest and wisest soul be least confused or deranged by any external influence. True, And the same principle as I should suppose, applies to all composite things furniture, houses, garments. When good and well made, they are least altered by time and circumstances. Very true, Then everything which is good, whether made by art or nature or both, is least liable to suffer change from without. True. But surely God and the things of God in every way perfect of course they are. Then he can hardly be compelled by external influence to take many shapes. He cannot. But may he not change and transform himself? Clearly? He said, that must be the case if he is changed at all, And will he then change himself for the better and fairer, or for the worse and more unsightly? If he changes at all, he can only change for the worse, for we cannot suppose him to be deficient either in virtue or beauty. Very true, adamantus. But then would any one, whether God or man, desire to make himself worse? Impossible? Then it is impossible that God should ever be willing to change, being, as is supposed, the fairest and best that is conceivable. Every God remains absolutely and forever in his own form that necessarily follows, he said in my judgment. Then, I said, my dear friend, Let none of the poets tell us the gods taking the disguise of strangers from other lands, while up and down cities in all sorts of forms. And let no one slander Proteus and Thetis. Neither let anyone, either in tragedy or in any other kind of poetry, introduce Harry disguised in the likeness of a priestess, asking in alms for the life giving daughters of Inachus the river of Argos. Let us have no more lies of that sort. Neither must we have mothers under the influence of the poets scaring their children with a bad version of these myths, telling how certain gods, as they say, go about by night in the likeness of so many strangers in diverse forms. But let them take heed, lest they make cowards of their children, and at the same time speak blasphemy against the gods. Heaven forbid, he said. But although the gods themselves are unchangeable, still by witchcraft and deception they make us think that they appear in various forms, perhaps, He replied, well, but can you imagine that God will be willing to lie, whether in word or deed, or to put forth a phantom of himself? I cannot say, he replied, do not know. I said that the true lie, if such an expression may be allowed, is hated of gods and men. What do you mean, he said, I mean that no one is willingly deceived in that which is the truest and highest part of himself, or about the truest and highest matters there above all, he is most afraid of a lie having possession of him. Still, he said, I do not comprehend you. The reason is, I replied, that you attribute some profound meaning to my words. But I am only saying that deception or being deceived or uninformed about the highest realities in the highest part of themselves, which is the soul. And then that part of them to have and to hold the lie is what mankind like. Least that I say, is what they utterly detest. There is nothing more hateful to them. And as I was just now remarking, this ignorance in the soul of him who is deceived may be called the true lie. For the lie in words, is only a kind of imitation and shadowy image of a previous affection of the soul, Not pure, unadulterated falsehood. Am I not right? Perfectly right? The true lie is hated not only by the gods but also by men. Yes, whereas the lie in words is in certain cases useful and not hateful in dealing with enemies that would be an instance. Or again, when those whom we call our friends in a fit of madness or illusion, are going to do some harm, then it is useful and is a sort of medicine or preventive. Also in the tales of mythology, of which we were just now speaking. Because we do not know the truth about ancient times, we make falsehood as much like truth as we can, and so turn it to account. Very true, he said. But can any of these reasons apply to God? Can we suppose that he is ignorant of antiquity and therefore has recourse to invention? That would be ridiculous, he said. Then the lying poet has no place in our idea of God, I should say not. Or perhaps he may tell a lie because he is afraid of enemies. That is inconceivable. But he may have friends who are senseless or mad. But no mad or senseless person can be a friend of God. Then no motive can be imagined why God should lie none whatever. Then the superhuman and divine is absolutely incapable of falsehood. Yes, then is God perfectly simple and true, both in word and deed. He changes not, He deceives, not either by sign or word, by dream or waking vision. Your thoughts, he said, are the reflection of my own. You agree with me, Then I said that this is the second type or form in which we should write and speak about divine things. The gods are not magicians who transform themselves, neither do they deceive mankind in any way. I grant that. Then, although we are admirers of Homer, we do not admire the lying dream which Zeus sends to Agamemnon. Neither will we praise the verses of Esculus, in which Thetis says that Apollo, at her nuptials, was celebrating in song her fair progeny, whose days were to be long and to know no sickness. And when he had spoken of my lot as in all things blessed of heaven, he raised a note of triumph and cheered my soul, and I thought that the world of Phoebus, being divine and full of prophecy, would not fail. And now he himself who uttered the strain, he who was present at the banquet, He who said this, He it is who has slain my son. These are the kind of sentiments about the gods which will arouse our anger, and he who utters them shall be refused a chorus. Neither shall we allow teachers to make use of them in the instruction of the young, Meaning as we do that our guardians, as fair as men can be, should be true worshipers of the gods, and like them, I entirely agree. He said in these principles, and promised to make them by laws. End of Book two