Plato's dialogues, history's judgments, and law

Plato's Dialogues, which are supposedly documentations of Socratic conversations, constitute some of the most interesting and richest works of ancient philosophy. They are multi-layered, profound and are truly expansive in their dealing with important questions of life and society. They dwell on the problem of knowledge, the problem of conduct and also that of governance. I have continued to go back to them once in every few months since I first read them about four years ago. Though they, like some other works of Greek philosophy, have received much criticism and revision in the last two millenniums, there is still something endearing about them. May be it is the simplicity and approachability of the dialogical form, or perhaps the universality and humanness of the themes pursued. They were probably situated in the context of an Athens that had just lost a long war against the Spartans. They were the dialogues of someone from the losing side. This, some believe, could be at the roots of many of the 'less acceptable' ideas from Greek philosophy, particularly some of Plato's political ideas. For example, the Spartans raised their children in pretty much a regimented way. Socrates (and therefore, Plato) espouses such an idea, and even goes on to articulate the concept of 'philosopher kings', who are the chosen ones deserving to rule (Perhaps that's why Russel called The Republic a fascist agenda book). Though we may not want to defend such ideas, we must understand that there is always a good chance that history might see us in a negative light, name our age the 'dark age', call us names like 'the barbarian', or if we are somewhat fortunate, just completely ignore us. In my mind, there is always an element of doubt about these judgments by history, because of, what I think, is the nature of life as a series of ill-structured problems that require heuristic solutions, some of which may not look good on hindsight. This, of course, doesn't completely justify actions, but does call for a closer look at the motivations and compulsions that might have shaped ideas and driven decisions, if not to be fair to the dead, at least to be wiser for the future. We must dig below the surface of the conclusions passed on to us.

Many of the ideas in the dialogues are worth reflecting on. One of the strongest and most haunting episodes in the dialogues concerns the death penalty given to Socrates. Socrates is given a choice: Give himself Hemlock, or accept ostracism and exile himself from Athens. Friends suggest that since the charges are anyway made up, he should just leave and come back later. But, he doesn’t pay heed, because he realizes and reasons that the rule of law is the public expression of human rationality itself. It is the one way the rational power of the corruptible man gets itself expressed in such a way as to minimize the degree of self-corruption. Aristotle also espouses a similar idea when he writes : Law is reason without passion. It doesn’t seek to benefit someone in particular. It is disinterested that way. This is a very important thought. Many of us (including me for sure) are tempted to break the laws that don't make sense to us, or are just plain inconvenient. Imagine what would become of the society if everyone were to start breaking laws like this. There would probably be complete anarchy, of the decadent type, and life would be, in Hobbes's seemingly pessimistic words, “nasty, brutish and short”. To invoke Kant's idea of a categorical imperative: Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law. Socrates says that he has devoted his entire life to the cause of reason. Now, just because his situation is compromised, he wouldn't give up everything and turn around. It would mean that his life amounts to nothing. He drinks the hemlock. Absolutist and crazy? May be. Stupid or wrong? I don't think so.

The Experientialists

I got hold of a colleague's iPhone today, and played around with it for a while. The thing appeals in interesting ways. It looks trendy, has got a good feel, and lets one control it completely with amusing ease. These features can be be seen in many successful 'toys' available these days. These things appeal to us, entice us, make us desire them, mainly by appealing to our senses, and we follow them, almost with hypnotic devotion.

I feel that knowingly or otherwise, many of us are experientialists, believing and valuing what we see and sense (through the five senses) and only believing and valuing what we see or sense. The problem with being an experientialist has less to do with the former than with the latter. Suppose we, for once, start trusting our senses entirely. Now, this in itself doesn’t mean that we believe and value only what we get through our senses. This is like being a child who believes and values what his father says, but nothing else. In spite of the limitations and vulnerabilities of believing in his father, he may innocently believe in what his father says. This may be acceptable, with a hope that he would understand the limitations of his father with time. But it is not the same if the child believes and value only what his father says, because that way he would never be able to find the truth, the truth about the limitations of his father.

If we believe only in our senses, and nothing else, we become what are senses make us. Our eyes and ears may never pick up the real truth, beyond the obviously sensed immediate truth. So we essentially bump from one wall to the other, and regard such contact as the only real contact possible in the world; thus missing certain important aspects of life. This is something that probably lies at the root of the consumerist, materialistic pursuits that prominently characterise contemporary motivations. This is some kind of a self-victimization.

I think it helps to acknowledge the limitations of our senses and the limited value of sensory experiences in our life in general and in the pursuit of meaning in particular. There is a significant space that lies within, waiting for us to acknowledge its existence, reflect on ourselves and the way we are and could be. Thinking, feeling, being are as important, if not more important, than catering to our senses and their essentially repetitive pursuits.

Another way of looking at this is the Kantian perspectice. Examining the problem of being an 'experientialist' from the perspective of critiquing the empiricist dominance, Kant puts forth the idea of a priori (prior to our experience). He writes that some of the concepts which we apply to our present experiences come from our past experiences, but some of the most important other concepts precede experience. What we experience is systematized and organized with our programmed intuitions and categories which make sense of it all, even if we come across them for the first time. This, in itself, is not a case against the validity of the senses, but it does bring into light something that is beyond or prior to the sensual perceptions, something a pure experientialist probably doesn’t appreciate much. Probably some roots of our moral judgments reside here, and we could understand them better if we reach deep inside ourselves, to the self that gets continuosly neglected when we are busy playing to the desires of our senses.

Balancing the self and the other

An important and sometimes troubling thing for me has been a basic need for belongingness that in some way is fundamental to the human condition. This need, when left unmet or inadequately met, leads to the miserable feeling of being out of place. This need for belongingness is what generates the need to measure up to the standards of the immediate surroundings, and also the anguish that a failure to do so leads to. The opposite of this are the pleasures and advantages of being alone, the opportunity to reflect and truly know oneself, and measure oneself against standards set by self. The question then is: How does one manage these two seemingly contradictory needs of human existence? I guess we must appreciate that these may not be contradictory, but instead they could complement each other. It would take great skill and wisdom to carry standards of different nature and manner continuously in one's mind, such that they reflect a healthy balance of external and internal standards. The key, I think, is to have a strong sense of centre, while intermittently enjoying and entertaining the sense of belonging to communities and collectives (defined by any of the identities we carry), and the sense of loneliness, in some sort of a musical repetition or a wave pattern. This way we could enjoy the privileges of both by treating them as two sides of the same coin of life that, in a way, complement and complete each other to create harmony in life. Though I feel true happiness comes from such balance, rhythm and harmony in every aspect of our life, finding a such balance is not easy. Each one of us has to find his/her own ways of achieving this balance. One thing is clear, we usually do not have the luxury of stopping to find the best balance. We have to find our answers as we move. Life, as Einstein said, is like a bicycle; to keep the balance, we need to keep moving.

Caves and Chains

Artistic expressions, while appealing to our aesthetic sense, also influence our epistemic and ethical frames and views. They have the potential of triggering or catalysing thoughts that shape us. The Matrix was a movie that has become a part of cinema history as a cult work in its genre. It was fun but it also explored some deep ideas with amazing profundity, subtlety and style. The ideas have parallels in some philosophical works. The most widely discussed are the parallels between The Matrix and “parable of the cave” in Plato's The Republic.

In The Republic, during a dialogue with Glaucon, Socrates talks about an imaginary cave wherein people are chained in such a way that they can see only a wall on which shadows are being projected by someone. They can’t see anything beyond that wall and they don’t understand anything beyond what they see. They have no standards superior to or exterior to their own mere visual experiences. This existence depends entirely on the immediate sensory perceptions and is thus exposed to the vulnerabilities and limitations of the senses. The plugged-in people lead a similar existence in the programmed dream world created by the machines in The Matrix. In a way, probably the shackles represent our senses and our societal bounding, which don’t let us rise above the planes and pains of materiality.

In The Matrix, there is a sequence where Neo is released from his programmed dream world and faces the truth. A similar point of salience occurs in the parable as well, but it is about the first man who comes out. It so happens that one day a man is able to get rid of the chains, walk out of the cave and sees the world outside. He has a hard time believing what he sees, but he comes to believe it. Back in the cave, other people are busy conferring honors among themselves on those who were the quickest to observe the passing shadows and to remark which of them went before, and which followed after, and which were together; and who were therefore best able to draw conclusions as to the future. The man who walked out wouldn’t care for such honors and glories, or envy the possessors of them. He would choose to endure anything, rather than live as the people in the cave. Now, imagine if such a man was to go back to the cave (or The Matrix) and tell other people about what he has seen.

Coming back into the cave, his eyes would not be easily accustomed to the darkness (i.e. ignorance) in the cave and thus, his eyes would not become steady for some time. This would make him appear ridiculous or inferior to those who have their eyes accustomed to the darkness. In fact, people may even think of him as a lunatic; and if he tries to lead others into the same light, they could even go to the extent of trying to catch and punish him. Thus, this man is likely to meet with disbelief, ridicule and/or hate at the hands of the people living in the darkness of the cave, the people he seeks to help. Even if he is able to lead one of the chained men into light, he may not be able to convince them to choose the light of the real world over the darkness of the cave. Some, like Cypher, may still prefer the convenience of darkness to the inconvenience of light. Even Neo resists the reality.

Neo’s immediate response is predictable. People's fear of what they don’t understand takes many forms, like disbelief, ridicule, hatred, or blind faith. But, Neo accepts the truth. In The Republic, Socrates says that bewilderments of the eyes are of two kinds, and arise from two causes: either from coming out of the light or from going into the light. This is true of the mind's eye, quite as much as of the bodily eye. A person who knows the possibility of the existence of both the bewilderments, on seeing any one whose vision is perplexed and weak, will first enquire about its cause. Neo displays the ability to tell the difference between the bewilderments and he has the wisdom that results from such ability and its use. He, like any sincere skeptic, looks for some evidence before he believes.

Cypher's choice of convenience of a slave over the hardships of freedom is not unusual. For many people, nothing matters except how good their lives feel through their senses. Freedom is difficult to deal with, a human condition that manifests in many ways, like subservience to totalitarianism, blind faith in religion, and so on. How to deal with true freedom? I don't know. It’s anyway not important to get answers immediately, let alone the right answers. It’s important to raise questions, the right kind of questions, and live with them till the answers reveal themselves.

Shakespeare's Women

Reading can sometimes help us concretize a thought lingering at the back of our mind, in a way helping us give a body of words to the soul of a feeling. Something similar happened with me today (Aha!). Well, the matter is regarding Shakespeare and Women. I am not referring to a potential historical controversy about the Bard's personal liaisons (i leave that to Hollywood's creativity), but to the female characters he created in his plays. What is it about Shakespeare's female characters that makes them so darn endearing? Well, a brief paragraph by Bernard Shaw, quoted in Harold Bloom's book on Shakespeare, is a spot on explanation of the phenomenon, which almost borders on the mysterious. Though probably rooted in our need for conformation, there is indeed a sweet, almost unusual, pleasure in realising that one's thoughts coincide with those of an authority on the matter, which they somewhat do, in this case with the bearded genius: “The popularity of Rosalind (As You Like It) is because of three main causes: First, she only speaks blank verse for a few minutes. Second, she only wears a skirt for a few minutes (and the dismal effect of the change at the end to the wedding dress ought to convert the stupidest champion of petticoats to rational dress). Third, she makes love to the man, instead of waiting for the man to make love to her – a piece of natural history that has kept Shakespeare's heroines alive, while generations of properly governessed ladies taught to say “No” three times at least, have miserably perished.” Slam Dunk!