Friday, February 15, 2008
Valentine's Day Fallout
My hot date last night was Plato.
The night started out well. We began by talking about where justice was found (a burning question, I assure you), and he proposed using the allegory of a city as a means to discover the location of justice. I assented, and things were going swimmingly until I brought up the fact that I'm a poet and a musician.
Well, after that, things heated up considerably. He said “Our first business is to supervise the production of stories and choose only those we think suitable, and reject the rest… and by means of them to mould... characters which are more important than... bodies” (377b-c).
"Well sure," I said. "Character is important, and stories have a shaping power, but what about works that portray both good and evil?"
“We must ask Homer, and the other poets to excuse us if we delete all passages of this kind. It is not that they are bad poetry or are not unpopular; indeed the better they are as poetry the more unsuitable they are for the ears of children or men who are to be free and fear slavery more than death” (387b-c).
"Delete passages?" I queried. "What about the autonomy of the artist? What about creative freedom? Who are you to judge what is good for people to see or hear?"
"No, no, no," He rejoined. “Such lies are positively harmful. For those who hear them will be lenient towards their own shortcomings if they believe that this sort of thing is and always was done by the relatives of the gods…” (391e).
"So you are just going bar your citizens access to this sort of art?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "After all, the artist knows little or nothing about the subject he represents and the art of representation is something that has no serious value; and this applies above all to all tragic poetry, epic or dramatic” (602 b).
"What!" I shrieked. "Representative art has no value? What about the emotional truth such works convey? The greater understanding of human nature that they can bring?"
"Oh," he said carelessly. "Emotions are brutish things with no value. True beauty is found in logic and reason." I was speechless. He added, as an afterthought. "Oh, and mathematics and geometry. They have beauty. But little else does."
The night ended right there. I put on my sweater and said icily, "I have to go."
He looked bewildered as I strode towards the doorway. "What? What did I say? Don't go!"
"Sorry Plato. Clearly, things won't work out between us. In fact, I doubt I'll ever see you again after the rewrite." And then I trotted home and went directly to bed.
The night started out well. We began by talking about where justice was found (a burning question, I assure you), and he proposed using the allegory of a city as a means to discover the location of justice. I assented, and things were going swimmingly until I brought up the fact that I'm a poet and a musician.
Well, after that, things heated up considerably. He said “Our first business is to supervise the production of stories and choose only those we think suitable, and reject the rest… and by means of them to mould... characters which are more important than... bodies” (377b-c).
"Well sure," I said. "Character is important, and stories have a shaping power, but what about works that portray both good and evil?"
“We must ask Homer, and the other poets to excuse us if we delete all passages of this kind. It is not that they are bad poetry or are not unpopular; indeed the better they are as poetry the more unsuitable they are for the ears of children or men who are to be free and fear slavery more than death” (387b-c).
"Delete passages?" I queried. "What about the autonomy of the artist? What about creative freedom? Who are you to judge what is good for people to see or hear?"
"No, no, no," He rejoined. “Such lies are positively harmful. For those who hear them will be lenient towards their own shortcomings if they believe that this sort of thing is and always was done by the relatives of the gods…” (391e).
"So you are just going bar your citizens access to this sort of art?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "After all, the artist knows little or nothing about the subject he represents and the art of representation is something that has no serious value; and this applies above all to all tragic poetry, epic or dramatic” (602 b).
"What!" I shrieked. "Representative art has no value? What about the emotional truth such works convey? The greater understanding of human nature that they can bring?"
"Oh," he said carelessly. "Emotions are brutish things with no value. True beauty is found in logic and reason." I was speechless. He added, as an afterthought. "Oh, and mathematics and geometry. They have beauty. But little else does."
The night ended right there. I put on my sweater and said icily, "I have to go."
He looked bewildered as I strode towards the doorway. "What? What did I say? Don't go!"
"Sorry Plato. Clearly, things won't work out between us. In fact, I doubt I'll ever see you again after the rewrite." And then I trotted home and went directly to bed.
