Ask anyone, and they will admit to the importance and power that art has on the world. Indeed, art can be admired for art’s sake, however the admiration of art goes much deeper. William Faulkner described what his work—his art—meant to him in his Nobel Peace Prize banquet speech, “I feel that this award was not made to me as a man, but to my work – a life’s work in the agony and sweat of the human spirit, not for glory and least of all for profit, but to create out of the materials of the human spirit something which did not exist before” (Nobel Prize, emphasis added).

Of course art can comprise of anything that one finds soothing to the soul: poetry, music, photography, painting, fiction, autobiographies, dance, graphics, theater… It is impossible to exhaust the list in which something can be described as art. But for the purposes of this paper, since I am inquiring into Plato’s interpretation of beauty and art, I shall narrow this infinite list of art down to poetry and paintings—subjects that Plato deems as mere imitations.

Much of Plato’s writings are devoted to both beauty and art, though he treats the two very distinctively. According to Plato, art, as represented through poetry, is closest to the greatest evil than any other event or entity, while beauty is closest to the greatest good. With beauty and art occupying the extremities of either side of the spectrum, it is hard to imagine how Plato’s writings on aesthetics can contain both simultaneously.

In reading several of Plato’s works, I believe that his work is more of an exploratory script than an unquestionable position on the subject. I say this because I have yet to find an exact aesthetic theory in his dialogs. As well, Iris Murdoch in The Fire and the Sun concurs stating that Plato never gave a definitive argument for the position he took (Anton, p. 239).

In discussing Plato’s interpretation of art, I find it important to also discuss his feelings towards beauty. In Plato’s literary works, it is not uncommon to read, in detail, his explanations concerning both beauty (as it relates to The Forms) and art. Plato speaks perennially about beauty and, more specifically, The Forms. It is important to note that beauty, as we understand it in modern day, is somewhat different than the definition in Plato’s time. We use the term “beautiful” usually to describe something that has actual beauty—a face, body, sunsets, and the likes. But when Plato uses the same term, beauty or beautiful is likened to “noble.” To be described as beautiful, one is referring to an ideal man; one who is admirable and a good warrior (Adorno, p. 354). An interesting difference that I have found between the modern definition and Plato’s definition is that the latter implies a more ethical connotation rather than a corporeal one.

In the Symposium, Plato describes quite a chief analysis of beauty. Socrates interprets his teacher’s, Diotima, elucidation on love. She says that beauty is the object of every love’s yearning. And, most interestingly, she contrasts between the beauty of the body and the beauty of the soul, assigning beauty of the soul chief entitlement. “Next, he must grasp that the beauties of the body are as nothing to the beauties of the soul, so that wherever he meets with spiritual loveliness, even in the husk of an unlovely body, he will find it beautiful enough to fall in love with and to cherish—and beautiful enough to quicken in his heart a longing for such discourse as tends toward the building of a noble nature” (210c). She goes on to emphasize a soul’s progression towards pure and actual beauty recognized in bodies, souls, laws, institutions, knowledge and ultimately beauty itself.

In another excerpt from the Symposium, Diotima suggests that poetry indeed counts as art. She says that the task of every poet and of anyone who we may call creative must beget wisdom and other similar virtues in their work (209a). As I will soon illustrate, this is a stark contrast of poetry as compared to the Republic. In fact, in the Republic, Plato aims to censor poetry as it corrupts the minds of the youth. Throughout the Republic, Plato is insistent in the evils that poetry and other kinds of art wreak upon a city and its people.

As Murdoch points out, there is a genuine perplexity over the fact that Plato, who lived in a time and society with an abounding richness of artistic culture, shows such enmity and detestation towards art. As well, the most obvious paradox is that Plato himself is a great artist (Murdoch, p.87). It is needless to say that Plato’s grudgingly acceptance of poetry and art is controversial. The question is not whether poems and art are beautiful—that is already acknowledged for the most part, but the question is whether poems can guide the mind towards knowledge, truth and The Forms as entities of beauty can. When poetry and paintings lead the mind on unphilosophical and mendacious paths, as Plato accept it does, the inevitable outcomes are wanton. But what does Plato think prevent poems and paintings from behaving as noble or beautiful entities do? Asked in a different way, what cultivates enlightenment and what thwarts it?

The term mimêsis becomes a reoccurring depiction in Plato’s writings. The term can be translated as imitation. He uses this term most prominently as he describes the baseness and corruptness consequence that poetry and other art forms possess. However, the term had an ambiguous and less sordid meaning to it in other texts. The comedies of Aristophanes referred to mimêsis, too. This usage of the word more accurately illustrates a technical designation referring to what actors do on stage in the theater. The actors are merely imitating fictitious characters and events.

Plato’s interpretation is much more unsympathetic, of course. In Plato’s Republic, Socrates banishes Homer as well as all the other poets from his ideal polis. As Hans-Georg Gadamer writes, “Probably nowhere else has a philosopher denied the value of art so completely and so sharply contested its claim…to reveal the deepest and most inaccessible truths” (Cohn, p.34).

In Books II and III, the role of poetry as is stands in the curriculum for the Guardians is assessed. Poetry, as specifically written by Homer, is criticized and is not fit for impressionable young minds to hear. In Book II, this is explained more thoroughly:

–Do you not know, then, that the beginning in every task is the chief thing, especially for any creature that us young and tender? For it is then that it is best molded and takes the impression that one wishes to stamp upon it.
–Quite so.
–Shall we, then, thus lightly suffer our children to listen to any chance stories fashioned by any chance teachers and so to take into their minds opinions for the most part contrary to those that we shall think it desirable for them to hold when they are grown up?
–By no manner of means will we allow it.
–We must begin, then, it seems, by a censorship over out story-makers, and what they do well we must pass and what not, reject. And the stories on the accepted list we will induce nurses and mothers to tell to the children and so shape their souls by these stories far rather than their bodies by their hands. But most of the stories they now well we must reject (377B-C).

Plato, as we can see, believes that people, particularly children, internalize poetry. The effects of poetry will inescapably imprint its message onto the psyche of the individuals and thus the city as a whole. If we allow children to hear any story indiscriminately—stories that are contrary to living a most noble and honorable life as adults—the city and its people would reasonably be destined for corruption.

Jonathan Lear emphasizes Plato’s opinion that for one to be an honor-loving person, one should be brought up on stories of brave men committing brave acts so as to fear slavery more than death itself. Following, a child ought to be allowed to imitate only the deeds appropriate of a Guardian. Pertaining to education, children should be brought up in a rigorous program of music and gymnastics that reinforce the honor-loving part of the psyche. So, Plato seems to insinuate that through proper imitation from youth, one actually constitutes oneself as a certain type of person (Lear, p.187). The difference between growing up to become a noble and brave person and growing up to become a cowardly and base one is the fables and poetry a child hears from adolescence.

Needless to say, the type of imitation one hears is chief in creating an ideal city for Plato. Of course as story-makers, there can be a deliberate and cautious nature in writing and telling tales—assuring that the tales cater to the honor-loving psyche. However, being the recipient of the tales is much more precarious, for internalization of these tales is strictly an unconscious process. Lear points out that evil and lawlessness can seep into one’s psyche unconsciously; and it does so through music and poetry.

It is worthy of note that after this discourse relating to the content [logos] of poetry, Socrates turns to the style [lexis] of poetry (Republic, 392B-C). He wants to distinguish with certainty both the matter and manner of speech (Cohn, p.34). It is concluded, then, that poetic narration can take place through narration, through mimêsis, or through a mixture of both narration and mimêsis.

This distinction between the content and style is an important one. Socrates does not suggest to banish every single poet from his ideal republic, for certain fables of courage and honor are welcomed to be told to children by their mothers and nurses in order to turn the children’s souls into worthy ones. The different manners in which the same story can be told is the rationale for excluding certain kinds of poetry from the ideal city will depend.

Socrates illustrates this by referring to the infamous opening of Homer’s Iliad—the scene where Chryses pleads to Agamemnon to release his daughter—by proceeding to retell this scene in a different way. In the original text as written by Homer, the poet speaks as if he himself was Chryses, whereas when Socrates retells the same story, the poet speaks as Homer throughout. The result is a telling of a story without imitation, but with narration (Cohn, p. 35). This differentiation seems to imply that mimêsis is a deviant manifestation. After additional discourse on the matter, Socrates decrees that poetry of the imitational kind will not be tolerated in the just and ideal city he seeks to conceive.

To illustrate this point further, Homer’s poems alternate between third-person accounts of certain events and directly quoted dialogues of the person or people involved in those events. Using the same scene as above, Homer uses the callous and vulgar language fit for a warrior as Agamemnon refuses to show any sympathy for Chryses. This exemplifies the difference in writing the words of an Agamemnon-character and reciting the words.

In Book X of the Republic, Plato, through Socrates, defines mimêsis in more detail. Mimêsis in the poetic form, as well as with paintings, are imitations of appearances and is third removed from truth. The first (The Form) is the nature of the bed (made by the natural creator—God), the second (the individual thing) comes from the work of the carpenter who makes the bed, and the third (the actual painting) comes from the work of the painter. So, poetic mimêsis is far removed from truth, therefore corrupting the soul and psyche, and thus, according to Socrates, should be banished from the city.

Also defined in Book X, Socrates is justifying the philosophy-based education over that of the poetry-education that others erroneously encourage. Socrates asserts that poets do not know nor appreciate the truth of the originals. Many misguidedly believe that poets must know what they write about if they are to produce work that is admired by their audience. But Socrates negates this stating that poets are really ignorant of what they write about. This imitation that poets publish is nothing more than a sort of counterfeit sincerity of ideas. Socrates believes that for a poet to write well and not merely create imitation, he should possess knowledge of what he writes his poems about.

Of course, one could argue that someone could be exceptionally ignorant of the veracity of politics, war, lust, and life in general and still produce great works of art. Plato would say that this is exactly the problem. Nothing short of ludicrous disorder will come about if an activity, such as poetry, can succeed even from sheer ignorance.

To focus on the most significant affairs pertaining to cities—war, victory, politics and education—Homer, for example, does not stand solidly when scrutinized. Socrates asks Homer,

Homer, if you’re not third from the truth of virtue, the sort of craftsman of images that we defined an imitator to be, but if you’re even second and capable of knowing what ways of life make people better in private or in public, then tell us which cities are better governed because of you, as Sparta is because of Lycurgus, and as many others—big and small—are because of many other men? What city gives you credit for being a good lawgiver who benefited it, as Italy and Sicily do to Charondas, and as we do to Solon? Who gives such credit to you? (599D-E)

Socrates makes his argument stating that Homer, an inapt leader of education, as well as other poetic imitators, simply imitates qualities of virtue by pandering to their audience. Since education is of great importance as it concerns the city as a whole, it is no wonder why Socrates is concerned with who the teachers are. Given that, as mentioned before, what one learns is unconsciously imprinted onto her psyche. And it is the people of the polis that actually define the polis itself.

Plato speaks specifically to this in Book VIII when he states, “Are you aware, then, said I, that there must be as many types of character among men as there are forms of government? Or do you suppose that constitutions springs from the proverbial oak or rock and not from the characters of the citizens, which, as it were, by their momentum and weight in the scales draw other things after them?” (544D-E). Lear also points out that the character that is inherent in the psyche will be found in the polis (Lear, p.190).

Socrates’ just polis, as he is so adamantly attempting to create, will be directed by a philosopher-king, and those living in the just polis will be influenced by appropriate imitation that establishes the honor-loving soul. Lear coins the concept “externalization.” It is defined as a process by which Plato thought a person fashions something in the external world according to a likeness in his psyche (Lear, p.192).

Imitation has a much worse effect than creating from ignorance; imitation doesn’t only teach nothing, but it fosters an acceptance of ignorance over truth and knowledge. It is a common saying that ignorant is bliss and some would prefer to remain in such a state (as Plato also acknowledges in Symposium 204a), but why would anyone contently choose to know less?

Though Plato makes unassailable arguments that in order to have a just and ideal polis, its people must practice deeds of courage, bravery and cater to an honor-loving soul, I believe his banishment of even some poets (though not all, as he admits that only art that nurtures a vicious soul will be banished), will deter from an idealistic city. Murdoch agrees as she says that a free art is an essential aspect of a free society” (Murdoch, p.85).

Furthermore, Plato seems to ignore the ways in which art does what morality and religion do at their best: to free a person from an egotistical fantasy world created for self-protection and self-consolation. These artists are free enough of their own egocentricity so as to break through mere appearances and to reveal something that is of authenticity and reality (Allen, p.226). In addition, Immanuel Kant advocates that the challenge of poetry is to avoid nonsense and make new sense; the poet must speak to and through the sensus communis (Penny, p.374). Sensus communis, as Kant uses the term, means the idea of a sense shared by humanity as a whole. It is a power to judge that in reflecting takes account, in our thought, of everyone else’s way of presenting something, in order as it were to compare our own judgment with human reason in general (Kant, p.160).

Aesthetic reflection, Kant argues, does two things: one, creates its own representation of human reason, and two, compares our particular aesthetic experiences to that standard. To Kant, contrary to Plato, art—specifically poetry—very much enhances and reflects humanity’s reason. We use poetry to analyze the individual as well as society.

It is interesting that in much of Plato’s writings, Socrates advocated (so much so that it beget his demise) the search for truth. But yet, in the Republic, he was without apprehension to banish artists that wrote about people or events that were contrary to Socrates’ judgment of idealism. In search for truth, Socrates opted for censorship—quite a dubious and ineffective way of getting at truth.

Certainly, Plato’s intention in banning certain artists was principled in theory. He believed that in order to have a perfect polis, it was required by the elders to narrate to their children stories of brave men to cultivate an honor-loving soul, and so poets like Homer needed to be banished from the just city. But I believe that Plato fails to notice that art, in all its forms, cultivate other sentiments as well. Poetry, paintings and other forms of art are a reflection of a stranger’s soul. To read into someone’s soul requires a deep contemplation on behalf of the viewer. Through this deep contemplation can the realizations of honor, courage, sympathy, revelation, adornment, etc. be experienced.

These necessary sentiments are what make humanity, humanity. To have a perfect and just polis is not merely to have its people acquire their perfected, virtuous character by being brought up on sheer propaganda, turning a blind eye to a world’s true vicious nature, it is to have its people acquire their perfected, virtuous character despite the world’s vicious nature.

Sources Cited:
1. Adorno, Theodor Wiesengrund, Gretel Adorno, and Robert Kentor. Aesthetic theory. Newly transl., ed. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2006. Print.

2. Allen, Diogenes. “The Fire and the Sun: Why Plato Banished the Artists.” Theology Today 25 (1978): 226-227 (review). Print.

3. Anton, John Peter. “The fire and the sun: Why Plato banished the artists.” Journal of the History of Philosophy 19.2 (1981): 239-242 (Review). Print.

4. Cohn, Dorrit. “The poetics of Plato’s Republic: A modern perspective.” Philosophy and Literature 24.1 (2000): 34-48. Print.

5. Kant, Immanuel, Nicholas Walker, and James Creed Meredith. Critique of judgment . Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007. Print.

6. Lear, Jonathan. “Inside and outside the “Republic”.” Phronesis 37.2 (1992): 184-215. Print.

7. Murdoch, Iris. The fire and the sun: why Plato banished the artists. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978. Print.

8. Penny, Laura. “The highest of all the arts: Kant and poetry.” Philosophy and Literature 32.2 (2008): 373-384. Print.

9. “William Faulkner – Banquet Speech.” Nobelprize.org. N.p., n.d. Web. 10 May 2011. .

May 13th, 2011