The Politics of Elenchus

• In Event: Plato, Philosophy, and Democracy

Abstract

In Republic 7, Plato has Socrates prohibit anyone under the age of thirty from approaching philosophy. While this fact has been widely recognized, the argument that supports it has been surprisingly neglected. Socrates’ explanation, in brief, is this: when some young people (even, I argue, some with truly philosophical souls) have their beliefs refuted, they will turn against the social authorities that subtended those beliefs. For these students, refutation won’t engender a love of philosophy but merely strip away young person’s reasons for acting for the sake of their community. Their ambitions and selfish desires will be unleashed. This is the argument Socrates gives, but it is not immediately obvious why this would require a total ban on philosophy for the young. Sure, some might be corrupted, but (by implication) others might safely take up philosophy at a young age. Why not give philosophy to everyone and then select those who have handled it safely for advancement? The answer, I argue, depends on the political logic of the city. The guiding necessity for Socrates, Glaucon, and Adeimantus as they construct Callipolis is its unity. The city must be free from dissension, in harmony with itself. These students corrupted by philosophy would be destructive for the social fabric—Socrates compares them to puppies, finding joy in ripping the beliefs of others to shreds—and so they must be eliminated from the city.

This argument suggests a more pessimistic side to Plato’s thinking about philosophical politics. It can still be true that he thinks the truth revealed by philosophy is necessary for good politics. This argument does not call into question the commitment that suffering can only be eliminated if philosophers become rulers or rulers become philosophers. And it can still be true that attaining philosophy is the only way that humans can be happy. But it suggests that the route to this attainment of truth is fraught. The process of learning philosophy can itself by political destructive, even if philosophy must be learned if politics is to be good.

If this interpretation is right, it raises a further question: what does Plato think the political implications of philosophical writing are? Plato’s dialogues are, after all, filled with the very things that he argues here can be politically destructive: pernicious characters, refutations of social beliefs, the unmasking of cultural and political authorities. Unlike in Callipolis, he cannot control the age or the character of his readers. If refutation will corrupt some students in Callipolis, does Plato think that the exposure to refutation in his dialogues will corrupt some students in Athens? However exactly we answer these questions, I suggest that this argument raises a useful counterpoint to some recent optimistic readings of Plato’s politics. It raises a challenge to recent attempts to reconcile Plato’s philosophy with democracy and it raises questions for the optimism of Allen’s influential pragmatic reading of Plato.

Author

• Samuel Stevens, UC Berkeley