Socrates’ critique of Greek tragedy is primarily focused on the mimēsis characteristic of poetry; that poetry is third from the truth and is a mere imitation of appearances. In Book X of The Republic, Socrates immediately begins to explicate the serious deficiencies of his contemporary poets, including Homer. He states that the product of poets “distorts the thought of anyone who hears it” (Plato’s Republic, p. 265, 595b). Because poets and painters alike merely imitate the ideas of the Forms or things, they simply do not know the truth of what they are speaking about.

For instance, a painter’s work is an imitation of, say, a bed that was created by a maker that was firstly created by the natural creator. Socrates explains that there are three types of beds: The first is the nature of the bed (made by the natural creator—God), the second comes from the work of the carpenter who makes the bed, and the third comes from the work of the painter.

Socrates, in Book X, is justifying the philosophy-based education over that of the poetry-education that everyone seems to encourage. Socrates, in much detail, posits that poets do not know and understand the truth of the originals. Many people mistakenly believe that poets must know what they write about if they are to produce work that is well liked by their listeners. 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. So Socrates believes that for a poet to be a good poet and not a mere creator of imitation, he should possess knowledge of what he writes his poems.

To focus on the most important things pertaining to cities—war, victory, politics and education, Homer, for example, does not stand unshaken when scrutinized. Socrates speculate questions to Homer asking,

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? (Plato’s Republic p. 279, 599d-e)

Socrates makes his argument stating that this wrongfully proclaimed leader of education in Greece as well as all other poetic imitators simply imitate images of virtue and all things by pandering to their audience (making a similar remark in The Gorgias by stating the same about rhetoricians).

Because Socrates believes that poetry is an unholy imitation of the truth, he reiterates his notion of banning poets and their work from his perfect and just polis. Because poets and painters present ideas that are so far removed from truth (three times removed), they corrupt the minds of the polis people by leading them to believe the falsehood of all things. What is more, poetry arouses the worst part of souls by making characters featured in their poem colorful, irrational and easily susceptible to akrasia.

Socrates then brings up an interesting point as his last critique of poetry. An incident of profound human suffering is when a parent loses his child. A decent man, in dealing with this incident, would fight back his tears and pain. He wouldn’t let himself be seen in such sorrow knowing it could cause a scene amongst his neighbors and fellow Athenians. To preserve the harmony with the soul, he must remain as unaffected as possible when faced with such a tragedy. When we suffer our own loss, we take pride in ourselves that we are able to keep quiet and display a sort of apathy, for this is the manly and accepted thing to do. So then, Socrates asks is it right to praise the behavior we exhibit while listening to poetry when in reality, we consider it to be indulging in base emotions?

One of my favorite passages that describes the danger lurking in poetry is as follows:

Listen, then, and consider whether it [can corrupt even decent people]. When even the best of us hear Homer or some other tragedian imitating one of the heroes sorrowing and making a long lamenting speech or singing and beating his breast, you know that we enjoy it, give ourselves up to following it, sympathize with the hero, take his sufferings seriously, and praise as a good poet the one who affects us most in this way (Plato’s Republic, p. 276, 605d).

Thus, because even the most philosophical souls can be in danger, the poet’s work is of grave danger.
This is far from exercising a rational soul. “[A] rational and quiet character, which always remains pretty well the same, is neither easy to imitate nor easy to understand when imitated, especially not by a crowd consisting of all sorts of people gather together at a theater festival, for the experience being imitated is alien to them” (Plato’s Republic, p. 276, 604e). To be moved in such vicarious ways, like relishing a hero’s speech in a poem, is to contradict the virtue of living by a rational soul.

In a different light, a tragic poet/imitator is best at portraying the spiritual struggle that is inflicted upon those that suffer from human misfortunes while the sufferers do not even attempt to respond in a most virtuous way. Since the audience listens and enjoys the imitator’s work, both the poet and the audience are locked together in an environment that feeds on irrationality.

“[The poet] produces work that is inferior with respect to truth and that appeals to a part of the soul that is similarly inferior rather than to the best part” (Plato’s Republic, p. 276, 605b).

He illustrates quite well his abhorrence of poetry. Despite this feeling however, Socrates does regret having to banish poets from his polis. He allows that if lovers of poetry (though not the actual poets themselves) can argue otherwise, argue that poetry does in fact have a place in a well-governed city, he would certainly take this into consideration.

There are several ancient texts that can confirm Socrates’ admonition concerning poetry and its effects on the lower parts of the soul. Particularly when it comes to the projection of the gods’ behavior. Take, for instance, Hippolytus. In the prologue, Aphrodite expresses her envy and rage towards another goddess, Artemis and the goddess’ most faithful worshiper, Hippolytus. She says,

Hippolytus, son of Theseus by the Amazon,
pupil of holy Pittheus,
alone among the fold of this land of Troezen has blasphemed me
counting me vilest of the Gods in Heaven.
He will none of the bed of love nor marriage,
but honors Artemis, Zeus’s daughter,
counting her greatest of the Gods in Heaven
he is with her continually, this Maiden Goddess, in the greenwood…
But for his sins against me
I shall punish Hippolytus this day (Greek Tragedies, p. 237).

Here, we can easily see the tumultuous characteristics of a goddess at play, and so in turn gives feeding the lower parts of the soul of the listener. The same can be seen in Homer’s Iliad in just the first few lines of Book 1. In describing Zeus’ will,

Rage.
Sing Goddess, Achilles’ rage,
Black and murderous, that cost the Greeks
Incalculable pain, pitched countless souls
Of heroes into Hades’ dark,
And left their bodies to rot as feasts
For dogs and birds, as Zeus’ will was done (The Essential Homer, p. 1).

And a final example that illustrates how poems can feed the lowest part of the soul comes from Prometheus Bound.

Bright light, swift-winged winds, springs of the rivers, numberless
laughter of the sea’s waves, earth, mother of all, and the all-seeing
circle of the sun: I call upon you to see what I, a God, suffer
at the hands of Gods—
see with what kind of torture
worn down I shall wrestle ten thousand
years of time— (Greek Tragedies, p. 69).

Both of these examples illustrate the disorderly soul of gods and how it can have this necessary effect on the souls of the listeners, as Socrates believes.

Socrates speaks a lot about the dangers poetry has on the soul as seen above. When we identify with the drama portrayed in poetry we are succumbing to emotions that can be better regulated by reason. But the danger doesn’t lie in not being able to distinguish between real-life drama and poetry-drama. It is because our enjoyment of a character’s suffering or our enjoyment in a character’s shame has an effect on our own suffering and shame—once we begin to take enjoyment out of this from poetry, we diminish our capacity to feel ashamed. In other words, when we laugh at another’s shameful acts on stage, we will necessarily laugh out or own shame rather than being ashamed.

Take for instance in Aristophanes’ Assemblywomen when Blepyros is speaking to himself in what should have a shameful tone, though instead of being ashamed for him, listeners are quite entertained by his “comedic” monologue.

What’s going on? Where has my wife got to? It’s getting near dawn and she’s nowhere to be seen. I’ve been sitting in bed, getting more and more desperate to take a shit, trying to find my boots and my coat in the dark. I’ve groped everywhere but I can’t find them, and all the while Mr. Poop is pounding at my back door, so finally I grabbed my wife’s pajama-top here and put on her Persian shoes. [Looking around and advancing into the orchestra] Now where, where could a man find an out-of-the-way place to take a shit? Well, anywhere is fine at night. No one’s going to see me at this hour. God, what a fool I was—wanting to get married at my age! I deserve infinite flogging! You can be sure she didn’t go out on any decent errand. Anyway, I’ve got to do my business. [He squats down and begins to grunt loudly; another old man, holding a lamp emerges from the Second Woman’s doorway, listens for a moment, and then heads toward Blephyros] (Three Plays by Aristophanes, p. 11).

The scene even goes onto Blephyros speaking to a neighbor midway though his business. A further scene illustrates the same point,

Epigenes:
How I wish I could sleep with the girl
and not have to bang a pug-nosed crone first!
That doesn’t sit well with a free man!

Of course sex and bodily functions are indeed quite natural and a part of normal life, to speak about these topics in such an uncensored and frank way is what, I believe, Socrates is referring to.

As mentioned before, Socrates is reluctant to banish all poetry from his polis. He will take into consideration the arguments of poetry-lovers. Although Socrates’ account of poetry and art is true on the surface, his conclusion of such is far from dignified. Art and poetry is imitation, I don’t argue that, but I don’t agree that is feeds our most irrational and weakest part of the soul. Furthermore, one could certainly argue that The Republic itself of close relation to the poem. Certainly Plato isn’t discounting his work on Socrates’ criticisms.

To me, there is no such quarrel between poetry and philosophy (Plato’s Republic, p. 278, 607b). Quite differently, there is fluidity between the two concerning self-reflection and education. For instance, in Book VIII, Socrates says,

And so he lives on, yielding day by day to the desire at hand. Sometimes he drinks heavily while listening to the flute; at other times, he drinks only water and is on a diet; sometimes he goes in for physical training; at other times, he’s idle and neglects everything; and sometimes he even occupies himself with what he takes to be philosophy. He often engages in politics, leaping up from his seat and saying and doing whatever comes into his mind. If he happens to admire soldiers, he’s carried in that direction, if money-makers, in that one. There’s neither order nor necessity in his life, but he calls it pleasant, free, and blessedly happy, and he follows it for as long as he lives (Plato’s Republic, p. 232, 561d).

This feeds the rational part of the soul, helping one to realize the disorder in her soul in order to make it more virtuous. This quote entices one to self-reflect critically and honestly, things that Socrates does not take into his accounts on poetry.
Even in Antigone, readers are shown the mighty character in which certain people possess. When speaking with Ismene, Antigone declares,

I would not urge you now; nor if you wanted
to act would I be glad to have you with me.
Be as you choose to be; but for myself
I myself will bury him. It will be good
to die, so doing. I shall lie by his side,
loving him as he loved me; I shall be
a criminal—but a religious one.
The time in which I must please those that are dead
is longer than I must please those of this world.
For there I shall lie forever. You, if you like,
can cast dishonor on what the gods have honored (Greek Tragedies, p. 183-184).

This is yet another instance in a Greek Tragedy where a character does not cater to a weakened and disordered soul. What Antigone is illustrating quite the opposite—might, strength, constitution. Again, yet another display of virtuous traits that Socrates ignores.

The literary works that Socrates refers to may not reveal truth; it might very well be imitation of truth. Homer’s Iliad is not at all true, but within its story are beautiful illustrations of some of the most arduous circumstances (To use the same quote as earlier, the first few lines of Book 1 of the Iliad, “Rage. Sing, Goddess, Achilles’ rage.” The lines are certainly dour, but nonetheless striking and sentiment provoking). But I think it is wrong for Socrates to conclude that all poetry and art should only illustrate truth. A story could be lacking in truth but still reveal veracity.

An example of this is when Phaedra, worried that she will lose all honor from her friends and family, decides to kill herself, and in the process, bring shame on the one who she believes shamed her (speaking about Hippolytus after his misogynistic rant). Of course this is not true at all—A goddess, through her vengeance, makes a mortal suffer. But it shows that humility can be quite deadly and dangerous. This is not truth, but it still exemplifies reality. Phaedra pronounces,

No, I’ll not speak of it. But on this day
when I shake off the burden of this life
I shall delight the Goddess who destroys me,
the Goddess Cypris.
Bitter will have been the love that conquers me,
but in my death I shall at least bring sorrow,
upon another, too, that his high heart
may know no arrogant joy at my life’s shipwreck;
he will have his share in this mortal sickness
and learn of chastity in moderation.

Socrates is right when he says that poetry is imitation, but is wrong to say that imitation is dangerous and distorts the mind. Poetry, paintings and all other forms of art should be appreciated in such a way where it is used for self-reflection, contemplation and just the mere enjoyment as a piece of work that comes from the soul. Furthermore, I do not feel the same way as Socrates that finding enjoyment from perhaps inappropriate comedy or sympathizing with a fictional characters’ suffering will lead us to be shameless and apathetic in our own lives. I feel as though this is a far and unsubstantiated conclusion (though of course, in today’s media-heavy society, one could argue otherwise, but that needn’t be discussed for this position).

March 18th, 2011