The Sheila Variations

The Books: "Crowds and Power" (Elias Canetti)

And here is my next book in my Daily Book Excerpt:

My political philosophy bookshelf. Onward.

Next book on this shelf is called Crowds and Power by Elias Canetti. I first encountered Canetti when I read Robert Kaplan's book Balkan Ghosts: A Journey Through History - Kaplan references Canetti's theories and ideas about crowds and power on almost every other page. I thought - I've got to track this book down. I finally did. It's an extraordinary book - very hard to describe or explain - it's really a book of philosophy, although there is a ton of historical information in it, anthropological, sociological ... Canetti studied crowds - in all different cultures and times - how they behaved, how they actually operated ... He took nothing for granted. He took nothing in stride. He asked questions about everything, obviously. He found there to be different types of crowds: feast crowds, flight crowds, prohibition crowds - and each type of crowd behaved in its own specific way. Elias Canetti won the Nobel Prize in 1981.

I've posted excerpts of this book before - it holds a deep and lasting fascination to me (thanks, Robert Kaplan!!). It's dense, it's at times difficult, but it is one of the most thought-provoking books I have ever read.

I am going to post the first section of the book - it is called "The Fear of Being Touched".

From Crowds and Power by Elias Canetti.

The Fear of Being Touched
There is nothing that man fears more than the touch of the unknown. He wants to see what is reaching towards him, and to be able to recognize or at least classify it. Man always tends to avoid physical contact with anything strange. In the dark, the fear of an unexpected touch can mount to panic. Even clothes give insufficient security: it is easy to tear them and pierce through to the naked, smooth, defenceless flesh of the victim.

All the distances which men create round themselves are dictated by this fear. They shut themselves in houses which noone may enter, and only there feel some measure of security. The fear of burglars is not only the fear of being robbed, but also the fear of a sudden and unexpected clutch out of the darkness.

The repugnance to being touched remains wiht us when we go out among people; the way we move in a busy street, in restaurants, trains or buses, is governed by it. Even when we are standing next to them and are able to watch and examine them closely, we avoid actual contact if we can. If we do not avoid it, it is because we feel attracted to someone; and then it is we who make the approach.

The promptness wiht which apology is offered for an unintentional contact, the tension with which it is awaited, our violent and sometimes even physical reaction when it is not forthcoming, the antipathy and hatred we feel for the offender, even when we cannot be certain who it is - the whole knot of shifting and intensely sensitive reactions to an alien touch - proves that we are dealing here with a human propensity as deep-seated as it is alert and insidious; something which never leaves a man when he has once established the boundaries of his personality. Even in sleep, when he is far more unguarded, he can all too easily be disturbed by a touch.

It is only in a crowd that man can become free of this fear of being touched. That is the only situation in which the fear changes into its opposite. The crowd he needs is the dense crowd, in which body is pressed to body; a crowd, too, whose physical constitution is also dense, or compact, so that he no longer notices who it is that presses against him. As soon as a man has surrendered himself to the crowd, he ceases to fear its touch. Ideally, all are equal there; no distinctions count, not even that of sex. The man pressed against him is the same as himself. He feels him as he feels himself. Suddenly it is as though everything were happening in one and the same body. This is perhaps one of the reasons why a crowd seeks to close in on itself: it wants to rid each individual as completely as possible of the fear of being touched. The more fiercely people press together, the more certain they feel that they do not fear each other. The reversal of the fear of being touched belongs to the nature of crowds. The feeling of relief is most striking where the density of the crowd is greatest.

The Books: "The Federalist Papers" (Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, John Jay)

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Next book in my politics/philosophy section is:

The Federalist Papers (Penguin Classics), by Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay.

Written in a period of months from 1787 to 1788 - spearheaded by Alexander Hamilton (otherwise known as "Sheila's dead boyfriend") - the 85 essays that appeared in 4 of the 5 newspapers in New York were created in order to convince the people of the state of New York why they should agree to the ratification of the Constitution. The Constitutional Congress concluded in the early fall of 1787, with all of the delegates returning to their respective states to begin the ratification process. What ended up being known as "The Federalist Papers" were a blitzkrieg of pro-Constitution propaganda. We are so lucky to have them. If you want to understand the Constitution? Read the Federalist Papers. They set out to explain to the reluctant public (who were, in general, horrified at this idea of an "energetic" national government) why a Constitution was necessary, and the whys and wherefores of each part of it. It's an extraordinary work - hugely important - and really explains the inner workings of the grand experiment called the United States. Hamilton did the lion's share of the work (no surprise there - the man was unbelievable. Was he a mortal man or some freak of nature? His productivity was astonishing). Madison wrote, what is perhaps, the most well-known of the papers - Federalist # 10 (I babbled about it here, on the morning of election day), where he warns against faction and the creating of political parties (although he didn't use that word). Fascinating that Madison later, with the turbulent election of 1800, become a genius at party politics. No matter. His Federalist #10 should be required reading. I want to stand over certain politicians in Washington and feed it to them manually. (Now that's an image.)

Each essay appeared under the name "Publius". The depth and breadth of the essays are amazing, considering the speed in which they were written, and the frequency in which they appeared. Frankly, the entire series takes my breath away.

Hamilton is an interesting case. Born illegitimate (in the immortal words of one of his many enemies, John Adams: "the bastard brat of a Scotch peddler"), in the Caribbean - he came to the United States at the age of 15 to further his education. Because he was not affiliated with any one State, his concerns were different than the other delegates at the Constitution, his outlook completely original. He believed in AMERICA, not in a particular State. His loyalty was to the Union, from the beginning. I think his perspective allowed him to see farther ahead than anybody else. Truly. He predicted the industrial revolution, far before anyone else did, for example. It would no longer be land that would make someone wealthy, it would be money itself. You wonder how he did it - but I really think it had something to do with his foreign birth, his hard-scrabble beginnings, and the fact that he came to America as an outsider.

The excerpt for today is from Federalist # 15, one of a couple of essays in the series where Hamilton takes on the old Articles of Confederation that Congress, with its new Constitution, was looking to get rid of. He predicts that the Articles will not be strong enough to handle the problems of the nation in the future. The States must consolidate.

"they have not suffered a blind veneration for antiquity, for custom, or for names"

"If their works betray imperfections, we wonder at the fewness of them."

Incredible.

EXCERPT FROM The Federalist Papers (Penguin Classics), by Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay.

As almost every State will be one side or the other, be a frontier, and will thus find in a regard to its safety, an inducement to make some sacrifices for the sake of the general protection; so the States which lie at the greatest distance from the heart of the union, and which of course may partake least of the ordinary circulation of its benefits, will be at the same time immediately contiguous to foreign nations, and will consequently stand on particular occasions, in greatest need of its strength and resources. It may be inconvenient for Georgia or the States forming our western or north eastern borders to send their representatives to the seat of government, but they would find it more so to struggle alone against an invading enemy, or even to support alone the whole expence of those precautions, which may be dictated by the neighborhood of continual danger. If they should derive less benefit therefore from the union in some respects, than the less distant States, they will derive greater benefit from it in other respects, and thus the proper equilibrium will be maintained throughout.

I submit to you my fellow citizens, these considerations, in full confidence that the good sense which has so often marked your decisions, will allow them their due weight and effect; and that you will never suffer difficulties, however formidable in appearance or however fashionable the error on which they may be founded, to drive you into the gloomy and perilous scene into which the advocates for disunion would conduct you. Hearken not to the unnatural voice which tells you that the people of America, knit together as they are by so many chords of affection, can no longer live together as members of the same family; can no longer continue the mutual guardians of their mutual happiness; can no longer be fellow citizens of one great respectable and flourishing empire. Hearken not to the voice which petulantly tells you that the form of government recommended for your adoption is a novelty in the political world; that it has never yet had a place in the theories of the wildest projectors; that it rashly attempts what it is impossible to accomplish.

No my countrymen, shut your ears against this unhallowed language. Shut your hearts against the poison which it conveys; the kindred blood which flows in the veins of American citizens, the mingled blood which they have shed in defence of their sacred rights, consecrate the union, and excite horror at the idea of their becoming aliens, rivals, enemies. And if novelties are to be shunned, believe me the most alarming of all novelties, the most wild of all projects, the most rash of all attempts, is that of rending us in pieces, in order to preserve our liberties and promote our happiness. But why is the experiment of an extended republic to be rejected merely because it may comprise what is new? Is it not the glory of the people of America, that whilst they have paid a decent regard to the opinions of former times and other nations, they have not suffered a blind veneration for antiquity, for custom, or for names, to overrule the suggestions of their own good sense, the knowledge of their own situation, and the lessons of their own experience? To this manly spirit, posterity will be indebted for the possession, and the world for the example of the numerous innovations displayed on the American theatre, in favor of private rights and public happiness.

Had no important step been taken by the leaders of the revolution for which a precedent could not be discovered, no government established of which an exact model did not present itself, the people of the United States might, at this moment, have been numbered among the melancholy victims of misguided councils, must at best have been labouring under the weight of some of those forms which have crushed the liberties of the rest of mankind. Happily for America, happily we trust for the whole human race, they pursued a new and more noble course. They accomplished a revolution which has no parallel in the annals of human society: They reared the fabrics of governments which have no model on the face of the globe. They formed the design of a great confederacy, which it is incumbent on their successors to improve and perpetuate. If their works betray imperfections, we wonder at the fewness of them. If they erred most in the structure of the union; this was the work most difficult to be executed; this is the work which has been new modelled by the act of your Convention, and it is that act on which you are now to deliberate and to decide.

PUBLIUS.

The Books: "Reflections on the Revolution in France" (Edmund Burke)

Next book in my Daily Book Excerpt:

Next book in my politics/philosophy section is:

Reflections on the Revolution in France, by Edmund Burke.

All I can really say is is that this book is essential reading. That's all. After I read it for the first time, I couldn't believe that there was a time in my life when I hadn't read it. It had a huge impact - in Burke's day, and in mine. Extraordinary.

Wow. That last sentence reminds me of the quote I posted from The Language Police and our ensuing discussion. It reminds me of the misguided (and to me, infuriating) crusade of Catherine MacKinnon and Andrea Dworkin. In having an incompete understanding of history - in wanting to provide redress to those with grievances - in saying they are fighting 'intolerance' - they have become just like the intolerant folks they scream about.

The victim becomes the oppressor. The revolution eats its young.

EXCERPT FROM Reflections on the Revolution in France, by Edmund Burke.

We do not draw the moral lessons we might from history. On the contrary, without care it may be used to vitiate our minds and to destroy our happiness. In history a great volume is unrolled for our instruction, drawing the materials fo future wisdom from the past errors and infirmities of mankind. It may, in the perversion, serve for a magazine, furnishing offensive and defensive weapons for parties in church and state, and supplying the means of keeping alive, or reviving dissensions and animosities, and adding fuel to civic fury. History consists, for the greater part, of the miseries brought upon the world by pride, ambition, avarice, revenge, lust, sedition, hypocrisy, ungoverned zeal, and all the train of disorderly appetites, which shake the public with the same

---troublous storms that toss
The private state, and render life unsweet.

These vices are the causes of those storms. Religion, morals, laws, prerogatives, privileges, liberties, rights of men, are the pretexts. The pretexts are always found in some specious appearance of a real good. You would not secure men from tyranny and sedition, by rooting out of the mind the principles to which these fraudulent pretexts apply? If you did, you would root out every thing that is valuable in the human breast. As these are the pretexts, so the ordinary actors and instruments in great public evils are kings, judges, and captains. You would not cure the evil by resolving, that there should be no more monarchs, nor ministers of state, nor of the gospel; no interpreters of law; no general officers; no public councils. You might change the names. The things in some shape must remain. A certain quantum of power must always exist in the community, in some hands, and under some appellation. Wise men will apply their remedies to vices, not to names; to the causes of evil which are permanent, not to the occasional organs by which they act, and the transitory modes in which they appear. Otherwise you will be wise historically, a fool in practice.

Seldom have two ages the same fashion in their pretexts and the same modes of mischief. Wickedness is a little more inventive. Whilst you are discussing fashion, the fashion is gone by. The very same vice assumes a new body. The spirit transmigrates; and, far from losing its principle of life by the change of its appearance, it is renovated in its new organs wtih the fresh vigour of a juvenile activity. It walks abroad; it continues its ravages; whilst you are gibbeting the carcass, or demolishing the tomb. You are terrifying yourself with ghosts and apparitions, whilst your house is the haunt of robbers. It is thus with all those, who, attending only to the shell and husk of history, think they are waging war with intolerance, pride, and cruelty, whilst, under colour of abhorring the ill principles of antiquated parties, they are authorizing and feeding the same odious vices in different factions, and perhaps in worse.

The Books: "Two Treatises of Government" (John Locke)

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Next book in my politics/philosophy section is:

Two Treatises of Government, by John Locke.

I came to John Locke obliquely. I figured I needed to read the works of the guy who had inspired "my guys" (heh heh) ... Having read so much about the Founding Fathers, John Locke's name comes up all the time, obviously, and so I took it upon myself to read the original.

Any and all political authority is rooted in the consent of the governed. A king is not a king if the people do not consent to his leadership. It is the "governed" who have the real spiritual power.

It has never been nailed down, with any certainty, when Two Treatises was published, but they (the infamous "they" - the experts) think that it appeared in between 1679 and 1681, at a time of great crisis and conflict in England. It's fascinating to read the debates on where and why Locke nailed down his ideas. Some think (and I believe that this was pretty much understood for quite some time) that it was written as a justification for the Revolution in England. Locke sympathized with Parliament when James II was forced from the throne. The idea that there needed to be restraints on the monarchy, and restraints on the absolute power of the monarch ... runs throughout the Second Treatise in particular. People have the right to resist absolute power.

The theory that Locke wrote his treatise in defense of the Revolution was debunked by two scholars - who determined that most of the Treatise had actually been written a decade earlier than previously thought. So any "justification of Revolution" idea had to be tossed out. As far as I understand, most of this is speculation on the part of scholars, and nothing has been nailed down. I am not a Locke expert, however ... but this is what I get from the little I have read. Scholars continue to debate Locke - his ideas, his relevance - he remains a controversial figure.

Ian Shapiro wrote the introduction to my copy of this book, and he concludes with a compare and contrast between John Locke and John Stuart Mill:

One cannot help but be struck by the affinities between Locke's argument in the Letter and John Stuart Mill's argument in On Liberty, even if Mill's principle is more capacious in extending the realm of what must be tolerated beyond religion and including all types of belief -- even atheism -- within it. But there are important underlying differences. Both writers define the limits to toleration in political terms by reference to when beliefs or actions become threatening to others, not by refernce to any claim about the validity of the beliefs themselves. And, even though Locke was profoundly religious while Mill could scarcely conceal his hostility to religion in general and Christianity in particular, both saw freedom of conscience and belief as the surest path to discovery of the truth in human affairs. But at the end of the day, Mill's commitment to freedom was for its own sake -- in this he was a true child of the Enlightenment. He saw individual freedom in the greatest good. For Locke, by contrast, freedom of conscience was valuable for the more Lutheran reason that he thought it essential to spiritual salvation. In this reasoning, as in many other matters taken up in our interpretive essays, Locke is something of a hybrid figure. He makes arguments that endure as defining features of political argument in the modern West, yet he does so in ways that reflect and embody premodern concerns. Reading Locke reveals that we have more complex links to our past than we might otherwise perceive.

There's so much to choose from in the Second Treatise, but I've decided to go with the concluding passage.

EXCERPT FROM Two Treatises of Government, by John Locke.

Here, it is like, the common question will be made, "Who shall be judge, whether the prince or legislative act contrary to their trust?" This, perhaps, ill-affected and factious men may spread amongst the people, when the prince only makes use of his due prerogative. To this I reply, "The people shall be judge;" for who shall be judge whether his trustee or deputy acts well, and according to the trust reposed in him, but he who deputes him, and must, by having deputed him, have still a power to discard him, when he fails in his trust? If this be reasonable in particular cases of private men, why should it be otherwise in that of the greatest moment, where the welfare of millions is concerned, and also where the evil, if not prevented, is greater, and the redress very difficult, dear, and dangerous?

But farther, this question ("Who shall be judge?") cannot mean that there is no judge at all: for where there is no judicature on earth, to decide controversies amongst men, God in heaven is judge. He alone, it is true, is judge of the right. But every man is judge for himself, as in all other cases, so in this, whether another hath put himself into a state of war with him, and whether he should appeal to the supreme Judge, as Jephthah did.

If a controversy arise betwixt a prince and some of the people, in a matter where the law is silent or doubtful, and the thing be of great consequence, I should think the proper umpire, in such a case, should be the body of the people: for in cases where the prince hath a trust reposed in him, an dis dispensed from the common ordinary rules of the law; there, if any men find themselves aggrieved, and think the prince cacts contrary to, or beyond that trust, who so proper to judge as the body of the people, (who, at first, lodged that trust in him) how far they meant it should extend? But if the prince, or whoever they be in the administration, decline that way of determination, the appeal then lies nowhere but to Heaven; force between either persons, who have no known superior on earth, or which permits no appeal to a judge on earth, being properly a state of war, wherein the appeal lies only to Heaven; and in that state the injured party must judge for himself, when he will think fit to make use of that appeal, and put himself upon it.

To conclude, The power that every individual gave the society, when he entered into it, can never revert to the individuals again, as long as the society lasts, but will always remain in the community; because without this there can be no community, no commonwealth, which is contrary to the original agreement: so also when the society hath placed the legislative in any assembly of men, to continue in them and their successors, with direction and authority for providing such successors, the legislative can never revert to the people whilst that government lasts; because, having provided a legislative with power to continue for ever, they have given up their political power to the legislative, and cannot resume it. But if they have set limits to the duration of their legislative, and made this supreme power in any person, or assembly, only temporary; or else, when by the miscarriages of those in authority it is forfeited; upon the forfeiture, or at the determination of the time set, it reverts to the society, and the people have a right to act as supreme, and continue the legislative in themselves; or erect a new form, or under the old form place it in new hands, as they think good.

The Books: "The Prince" (Niccolo Machiavelli)

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The Prince, by Niccolo Machiavelli.

We first had to read this in high school. I remember it as drudgery. I flat out didn't get it. I read it again a couple years later, and the light dawned in on me. I "got" the book, I got its importance. Especially with all of my reading about the Founding Fathers, and their thoughts on government, and the workings of power, and the general corruptibility of man ... One of my favorite things about all "those guys" was how they were the opposite of idealists. They were deep-down hardened skeptics, actually - at least about mankind and human nature. Hence: the checks, the balances ... because man is not to be trusted with power. Ever.

Every time I read the book, it seems like there's something new there. Or it even seems like there are new sections altogether. I think: "Wait a sec ... did I ever actually read this section??" My relationship with the book is ongoing, it's one of those books that changes along with you.

It was difficult to choose an excerpt, because there was so much to choose from. I really like the section on armies. I love all the political and military history stuff ... but I'm gonna post, now, an excerpt from the famous chapter: "On Cruelty and Clemency, and Whether It Is Better to be Loved or Feared".

The edition that I have starts with an awesome introduction about the history of people's responses to this book. How "Macchiavellian" became a certain type of descriptive term pretty much in his lifetime. How the work is misunderstood, essentially. How it seems as if the only thing people remember from the book is "the ends justify the means", so let's call it a night. But that's not all there is, and the context of the book itself - why he wrote it - helps illuminate his concerns, his struggles.

He was exiled (long story ... look it up), and during his exile, he wrote The Prince. Here is a bit from a letter he wrote to a friend (I just love this - the details):

I am living in the country since my disgrace. I get up at dawn and go to the little wood where I see what work has been done ... [Then comes a long section where he discusses sitting outside, on a hill, reading Dante, Petrarch, Tibullus, Ovid. Then he goes to spend the afternoon at the inn, with the miller, the butcher, a cook, some bricklayers ...] [Spent the afternoon] with these boors playing cards or dice; we quarrel over farthings. When evening comes I return to the house and go into my study. Before I enter I take off my rough mud-stained country dress. I put on my royal and curial robes and thus fittingly attired I enter into the assembly of men of old times. Welcomed by them I feed upon that food which is my true nourishment, and which has made me what I am. I dare to talk with them, and ask them the reason for their actions. Of their kindness they answer me. I no longer fear poverty or death. From these notes I have composed a little work, The Prince.

I find that totally extraordinary. What a description. My favorite part is how he needed to change into his old court robes, even though he was now exiled from the court, in order to get to work in his study. Wow. Like - a sense of humility, awe, and respect ... when sitting down to contemplate Dante or Ovid. Sitting there in your mud-stained trousers would be the ultimate insult, and in order to "dare to talk with them", he had to be appropriately dressed. I love that.

Tycho Brahe, apparently, used to put on his court robes every time he looked through a telescope.

I think that's really cool.

EXCERPT FROM The Prince, by Niccolo Machiavelli.

From this arises the question whether it is better to be loved more than feared, or feared more than loved. The reply is, that one ought to be both feared and loved, but as it is difficult for the two to go together, it is much safer to be feared than loved, if one of the two has to be wanting. For it may be said of men in general that they are ungrateful, voluble, dissemblers, anxious to avoid danger, and covetous of gain; as long as you benefit them, they are entirely yours; they offer you their blood, their goods, their life, and their children, as I have before said, when the necessity is remote; but when it approaches, they revolt. And the prince who has relied solely on their words, without making other preparations, is ruined; for the friendship which is gained by purchase and not through grandeur and nobility of spirit is bought but not secured, and at a pinch is not to be expended in your service. And men have less scruple in offending one who makes himself loved than one who makes himself feared; for love is held by a chain of obligation, which, men being selfish, is broken whenever it serves their purpose; but fear is maintained by a dread of punishment which never fails.

Still, a prince should make himself feared in such a way that if he does not gain love, he at any rate avoids hatred; for fear and the absence of hatred may go well together, and will be always attained by one who abstains from interfering with the property of his citizens and his subjects or with their women. And when he is obliged to take the life of any one, let him do so when there is a proper justification and manifest reason for it; but above all he must abstain from taking the property of others, for men forget more easily the death of their father than the loss of their patrimony. [I guess Marx and Lenin didn't read their Machiavelli, huh?] Then also pretexts for seizing property are never wanting, and one who begins to live by rapine will always find some reason for taking the goods of others, whereas causes for taking life are rarer and more fleeting.

But when the prince is with his army and has a large number of soldiers under his control, then it is extremely necessary that he should not mind being thought cruel; for without this reputation he could not keep his army united or disposed to any duty. Among the noteworthy actions of Hannibal is numbered this, that although he had an enormous army, composed of men of all nations and fighting in foreign countries, there never arose any dissension either among them or against the prince, either in good fortune or in bad. This could not be due to anything but his inhuman cruelty, which together with his infinite other virtues, made him always venerated and terrible in the sight of his soldiers, and without it his other virtues would not have sufficed to produce that effect. Thoughtless writers admire on the one hand his actions, and on the other blame the principal cause of them.

And that it is true that his other virtues would not have sufficed may be seen from the case of Scipio (famous not only in regard to his own times, but all times of which memory remains), whose armies rebelled against him in Spain, which arose from nothing but his excessive kindness, which allowed more licence to the soldiers than was consonant with military discipline. He was reproached with this in the senate by Fabius Maximus, who called him a corrupter of the Roman militia. Locri having been destroyed by one of Scipio's officers was not revenged by him, nor was the insolence of that officer punished, simply by reason of his easy nature; so much so, that some one wishing to excuse him in the senate, said that there were many men who knew rather how not to err, than how to correct the errors of others. This disposition would in time have tarnished the fame and glory of Scipio had he persevered in it under the empire, but living under the rule of the senate this harmful quality was not only concealed but became a glory to him.

I conclude, therefore, with regard to being feared and loved, that men love at their own free will, but fear at the will of the prince, and that a wise prince must rely on what is in ihis power and not on what is in the power of others, and he must only contrive to avoid incurring hatred, as has been explained.

The Books: "Plato: Republic" (Plato)

Next book in my Daily Book Excerpt:

Say goodbye to 'cultural commentary', say hello to 'political thought through the ages'. Actually, it's probably more like politics/philosophy ... but who needs to get too rigid with this categorization stuff? Uhm ... I do?

First book in this section is Republic, by Plato.

I came to this book late - because I don't believe it was required reading in my Humanities classes in high school. Or maybe sections of it were. Regardless - I read this when I first came to New York. We read Aristotle's Poetics in my theatre history class - which I had read before - but that sparked an interest in Republic.

Republic is a series of meandering conversations between Socrates (who was Plato's mentor, I guess you would call it) and a student. Their topic? The ideal community. Socrates asks questions, drawing the student out, making the student think in a deeper way about all sorts of elemental things: what is happiness? Is it easier to be moral or immoral?

To my taste, when you get right down to it, what "Socrates" describes is a sort of benevolent dictatorship. It's very authoritarian, this community. The faceless masses ruled by a "philosopher king". There has to be a lot of indoctrination - if you 'educate' the people in how things should be, then they will succumb. There isn't the concept of "the individual".

Anyway, there are many interpretations of this work, and I'm not gonna get into that. I was fascinated by the politics in the book ... Plato was tormented by the same questions that, say, Thomas Jefferson was - when he sat down to write the Declaration of Independence. WHY are people good? WHY are people happy? Is it beneficial to the community? Let's not be too idealistic here: evil has its benefits too. Immoral people are not ALWAYS shunned - many of them rise to the highest positions in society, and wield great power and influence. So how can we say, without a doubt, that GOOD is its own reward, when obviously the opposite is also true? No facile answers allowed. Socrates won't let it pass.

Plato, also like our Founding Fathers, understood that man's natural impulses needed to be checked. No one is perfect, and all men have within them excesses that must be reined in if civilization is going to exist and flourish. Plato (through the Socrates character) talks a lot about education and social conditioning: if we can start very young with the kids, helping them to rein in their darker impulses, then the community just might survive.

I'm not wacky about a lot of his suggestions - they're too authoritarian for me -but who gives a crap what I think?? What is interesting is the way Plato frames the debate, and the way, in many cases, he STILL frames the debate today. About politics, morality, government, good vs. evil, society ... It's all in there.

It's also quite a readable book, since the whole thing is a conversation. It's very chatty.

Plato is really really rough on the poets ... there will be no poets in his Republic - he thinks poetry could destroy civilization - which is another reason why, er, I don't really want to live in his imagined community. His point is that anyone who makes it their job to "represent" something, is distanced from reality - and that's dangerous. My response to that is, well, not to be obnoxious, but: "Whatever, dude." The opinion Plato has of "representational poets" exists as well today. Funny: a lot of his dire warnings about the dangers of "representation" reminds me of the art of Islam, where the human figure is forbidden. No representational images allowed - which is why mosques are decorating with dizzying geometrical tile patterns, as opposed to statues, paintings of Muhammad, whatever you. No, it's all about the kaleidoscope pattern of colors, patterns the eye can lose itself in. There is nothing to latch onto, there is nothing for the eye to hold tightly to. You cannot imagine the people in the story, they are not given a human face - that is strictly forbidden. If you invest your life in creating an appearance of something, if your craft is representing reality ... then you really shouldn't be all that respected or listened to. Because you have chosen to live in a fantasy world, as opposed to reality. Again: Plato frames the debate in this chapter, and in a way - it's still being worked out today: what is the role of "artist" in any society? Plato doesn't want to let them in at all. F*** off, Plato! HOWEVER what he has to say about all of it is reaaaaallly interesting, and that's the excerpt below.

This is only the start of this fascinating conversation which takes up an entire chapter. Anyone who is an artist should most definitely read Plato's Republic because all of the questions asked by Socrates in that excerpt are questions that we should be asking ourselves.

I remember when Robert DeNiro came to my school to speak with us, he talked about the legendary amount of research he does for each role (if he's playing a homicide detective, he trains to be a homicide detective, and rides around with homicide detectives ... if he's playing a taxi driver, he gets a hack license and drives a taxi for a couple of months ... etc.) This is not just a gimmick. This is not: "oooh, look at me, look at my dedication" - The way DeNiro put it was - (and I loved this): "I need to earn the right to play the character."

What a cool and complex way to say it.

The character is something that is outside of him - who has a full life - and he, the measly actor - needs to earn the right to play him. But also: the character is representational of people in the "real" world - people who really are surgeons, or detectives, or bounty hunters, or saxophonists ... You mustn't disrespect these REAL people, who have these REAL jobs ... You need to "earn the right" to "pretend" - and that takes research. Any old schmuck can pretend to 'scrub in' but it will be a cliche, nothing that seems REAL, if he hasn't hung out with surgeons, if he hasn't immersed himself in the surgeon's world.

That's what came to mind as I looked through the excerpt above this morning. I do not see the dangers Socrates sees in a painter painting a shoe - and not knowing how the show itself was made ... but still: the question is interesting. Has the painter/poet/artist "earned the right" to represent reality to the audience? Who gives them that authority? Where does that power come from? Is it used humbly, or is it used arrogantly? Etc.

Anyway. Naturally, because this is MY blog and no one else's: Plato's Republic reminds me of Robert DeNiro. Ah yes, it all makes perfect sense.

EXCERPT FROM Republic, by Plato.

"Now, we'd better investigate tragedy next," I said, "and its guru, Homer, because one does come across the claim that there's no area of expertise, and nothing relevant to human goodness and badness either -- and nothing to do with the gods even -- that these poets don't understand. It is said that a good poet must understand the issues he writes about, if his writing is to be successful, and that if he didn't understand them, he wouldn't be able to write about them. So we'd better try to decide between the alternatives. Either the people who come across these representational poets are being taken in and are failing to appreciate, when they see their products, that these products are two steps away from reality and that it certainly doesn't take knowledge of the truth to create them (since what they're creating are appearances, not reality); or this view is valid, and in fact good poets are authorities on the subjects most people are convinced they're good at writing about."

"Yes, this definitely needs looking into," he said.

"Well, do you think that anyone who was capable of producing both originals and images would devote his energy to making images, and would make out that this is the best thing he's done with his life?"

"No, I don't."

"I'm sure that if he really knew about the things he was copying in his representations, he'd put far more effort into producing real objects than he would into representations, and would try to leave behind a lot of find products for people to remember him by, and would dedicate himself to being the recipient rather than the bestower of praise."

"I agree," he said. "He'd gain a lot more prestige and do himself a great deal more good."

"Well, let's concentrate our interrogation of Homer (or any other poet you like) on a single area. Let's not ask him whether he can tell us of any patients cured by any poet in ancient or modern times, as Asclepius cured his patients, or of any students any of them left to continue his work, as Asclepius left his songs. And even these questions grant the possibility that a poet might have had some medical knowledge, instead of merely representing medical terminology. No, let's not bother to ask him about any other areas of expertise either. But we do have a right to ask Homer about the most important and glorious areas he undertakes to expound -- warfare, tactics, politics, and human education. Let's ask him, politely, 'Homer, maybe you aren't two steps away from knowing the truth about goodness; maybe you aren't involved in the manufacture of images (which is what we called representation). Perhaps you're actually one step away, and you do have the ability to recognize which practices - in their private or their public lives - improve people and which ones impair them. But in that case, just as Sparta has its Lycurgus and communities of all different sizes have their various reformers, please tell us which community has you to thank for improvements to a government. Which community attributes the benefits of its good legal code to you? Italy and Sicily name Charondas in this respect, we Athenians name Solon. Which country names you?' Will he heave any reply to make?"

"I don't think so," said Glaucon. "Even the Homeridae themselves don't make that claim."

"Well, does history record that there was any war fought in Homer's time whose success depended on his leadership or advice?"

"No."

"Well then, are a lot of ingenious inventions attributed to him, as they are to Thales of Miletus and Anacharsis of Scythia? I mean the kinds of inventions which have practical applications in the arts and crafts and elsewhere. He is, after all, supposed to be good at creating things."

"No, there's not the slightest hint of that sort of thing."

"All right, so there's no evidence of his having been a public benefactor, but what about in private? Is there any evidence that, during his lifetime, he was a mentor to people, and that they used to value him for his teaching and then handed down to their successors a particular Homeric way of life? This is what happened to Pythagoras: he wasn't only held in extremely high regard for his teaching during his lifetime, but his successors even now call their way of life Pythagorean and somehow seem to stand out from all other people."

"No, there's no hint of that sort of thing, either," he said. "I mean, Homer's associate Creophylus' cultural attainments would turn out to be even more derisory than his name suggests they are, Socrates, if the stories about Homer are true. You see, Creophylus is said to have more or less disregarded Homer during his lifetime."

"Yes, that is what we're told," I agreed. "But, Glaucon, if Homer really had been an educational expert whose products were better people -- which is to say, if he had knowledge in this sphere and his abilities were not limited to representation -- don't you think he'd have been surrounded by hordes of associates, who would have admired him and valued his company highly? Look at Protagoras of Abdera, Prodicus of Ceos, and all the rest of them: they can use their exclusive tuition to make their contemporaries believe that without them in charge of their education they won't be capable of managing their own estates, let alone their communities, and they're so appreciated for this experties of theirs that their associates almost carry them around on their heads. So if Homer or Hesiod had been able to help people's moral development, would their contemporaries have allowed them to go from town to town reciting their poems? Wouldn't they have kept a tighter grip on them than on their money, and tried to force them to stay with them in their homes? And if they couldn't persuade them to do that, wouldn't they have danced attendance on them wherever they went, until they'd gained as much from their teaching as they could?"

"I don't think anyone could disagree with you, Socrates," he said.

"So shall we classify all poets, from Homer onwards, as representers of images of goodness (and of everything else which occurs in poetry), and claim that they don't have any contact with the truth? The facts are as we said a short while ago: a painter creates an illusory shoemaker, when not only does he not understand anything about shoemaking, but his audience doesn't either. They just base their conclusions on the colours and shapes they can see."

"Yes."

"And I should think we'll say that the same goes for a poet as well: he uses words and phrases to block in some of the colours of each area of expertise, although all he understands is how to represent things in a way which makes other superficial people, who base their conclusions on the words they can hear, think that he's written a really good poem about shoemaking or military command or whatever else it is that he's set out to metre, rhythm, and music. It only takes these features to cast this powerful a spell: that's what they're for. But when the poets' work is stripped of its musical hues and expressed in plain words, I think you've seen what kind of impression it gives, so you know what I'm talking about."

"I do," he said.

"Isn't it," I asked, "like what noticeably happens when a young man has alluring features, without actually being good-looking, and then this charm of his deserts him?"

"Exactly."

"Now, here's another point to consider. An image-maker, a representer, understands only appearance, while reality is beyond him. Isn't that our position?"

"Yes."