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Faulty Towers
May. 4th, 2006 11:05 pm
High today, here: 22. Dewpoint then: 10. High dewpoint: 14.
High today in TO: 23. Dewpoint then: 11. High dewpoint: 14.
Low today on the balcony: 15.1. High: 21.6. Currently: 15.8.
Back to the Crito today. Something that struck me recently, more or less due to a comment Bloom makes about the "regime" not being identical with the city or something: the laws that address Socrates in the Crito, arguing that he owes them his allegiance in part because they were responsible for his upbringing, were not (necessarily) the ones actually responsible for his upbringing. Putting together the history, Cimon was ousted as leader of Athens, in favour of Pericles, when Socrates was about nine, replacing a more oligarchic with a more populist democracy (yeah, what would I do without Wikipedia), and then the Thirty Tyrants interrupted the democracy for a while, a few years before Socrates's death.
Now, today, re-reading with that in mind: Crito says to Socrates, toward the beginning, that if he dies, he won't be able to look after his children, and who knows what will become of them. This point comes back two or three times with slight variations. An implication seems to be that the laws can't take credit for forming children; that's the parents' (or, at least, the father's) responsibility. Also: Crito asks Socrates, what will everyone think of your friends if you don't escape?; Socrates replies, who cares what everyone thinks?; Crito says, your situation seems to show that it's pretty important what everyone thinks, because they're capable of the worst sort of evils--to which Socrates replies, would that people were capable of the worst evils, because then they would also be capable of the greatest goods, but in fact they are not capable of either, because they can't make a person wise or foolish, but instead do one thing and another as strikes their fancy. So, not only can the laws not take credit for the formation of character; neither can the democratic state (and when the laws speak to Socrates, they often refer to themselves and the state).
It struck me, in one of those spine-tingling bolts out of the blue when the very Plato himself seems to come crackling through, that when Socrates introduces the personified laws, asking Crito to imagine that he's running away, or whatever you want to call it, and he's called to account by the laws, which ask why he wants to destroy them and bring down the state, that this "whatever you want to call it" just might indicate that with "running away" Plato has in mind Socrates's death (by which, Crito has charged, Socrates is running away from his responsibilities to his children)--and then the real question becomes, why, Socrates, do you strike this blow against Athens by submitting to be put to death? (Is it a blow against Athens? For us it's very simply an indictment of the Athenian democracy. Maybe that alone is enough of the kind of blow Socrates was supposed to be striking.) And maybe the answer is, in part, that the democratic regime does not foster philosophers, but rather frivolous people. (But this is a tension that Strauss and Bloom point to: only a democracy would tolerate a Socrates. Like I was saying last month, Socrates paints an awfully alluring picture of democracy in the Republic; Strauss, I've now seen, also thinks it's too alluring for us to safesly suppose that Plato means only to condemn democracy. The irony, when Socrates describes the wonders of democracy, may be doubled.)
Which is, probably, a line to follow in another paper. For the one I'm commenting on, and for Strauss's interpretation, the question that remains with me is: how would leaving Athens disorder Socrates's soul? I was looking at the Phaedrus yesterday to confirm that Socrates doesn't say any more there than I thought he did (and he doesn't) about why he doesn't leave the city (though that's about why he doesn't go into the countryside, rather than why he doesn't go to another city)--he says it's because he loves learning, and trees and stones don't teach him anything, but people do. Well, how can you take that at face value? People teach Socrates nothing, he, or rather Plato, keeps insisting, except that they have nothing to teach. So why does Socrates really never leave the city? What--setting aside some sort of neurosis--is going to disorder his soul if he steps outside the walls? In the Republic, it's said that the philosopher has an obligation to come back into the cave and set it straight. That might be part of it, but it's not sufficient (and Socrates says he's never been out of the cave anyway, and what about his daimon that tells him to stay out of politics ... ).
Speaking of unsettling souls by switching cities, here goes mine....
High today in TO: 23. Dewpoint then: 11. High dewpoint: 14.
Low today on the balcony: 15.1. High: 21.6. Currently: 15.8.
Back to the Crito today. Something that struck me recently, more or less due to a comment Bloom makes about the "regime" not being identical with the city or something: the laws that address Socrates in the Crito, arguing that he owes them his allegiance in part because they were responsible for his upbringing, were not (necessarily) the ones actually responsible for his upbringing. Putting together the history, Cimon was ousted as leader of Athens, in favour of Pericles, when Socrates was about nine, replacing a more oligarchic with a more populist democracy (yeah, what would I do without Wikipedia), and then the Thirty Tyrants interrupted the democracy for a while, a few years before Socrates's death.
Now, today, re-reading with that in mind: Crito says to Socrates, toward the beginning, that if he dies, he won't be able to look after his children, and who knows what will become of them. This point comes back two or three times with slight variations. An implication seems to be that the laws can't take credit for forming children; that's the parents' (or, at least, the father's) responsibility. Also: Crito asks Socrates, what will everyone think of your friends if you don't escape?; Socrates replies, who cares what everyone thinks?; Crito says, your situation seems to show that it's pretty important what everyone thinks, because they're capable of the worst sort of evils--to which Socrates replies, would that people were capable of the worst evils, because then they would also be capable of the greatest goods, but in fact they are not capable of either, because they can't make a person wise or foolish, but instead do one thing and another as strikes their fancy. So, not only can the laws not take credit for the formation of character; neither can the democratic state (and when the laws speak to Socrates, they often refer to themselves and the state).
It struck me, in one of those spine-tingling bolts out of the blue when the very Plato himself seems to come crackling through, that when Socrates introduces the personified laws, asking Crito to imagine that he's running away, or whatever you want to call it, and he's called to account by the laws, which ask why he wants to destroy them and bring down the state, that this "whatever you want to call it" just might indicate that with "running away" Plato has in mind Socrates's death (by which, Crito has charged, Socrates is running away from his responsibilities to his children)--and then the real question becomes, why, Socrates, do you strike this blow against Athens by submitting to be put to death? (Is it a blow against Athens? For us it's very simply an indictment of the Athenian democracy. Maybe that alone is enough of the kind of blow Socrates was supposed to be striking.) And maybe the answer is, in part, that the democratic regime does not foster philosophers, but rather frivolous people. (But this is a tension that Strauss and Bloom point to: only a democracy would tolerate a Socrates. Like I was saying last month, Socrates paints an awfully alluring picture of democracy in the Republic; Strauss, I've now seen, also thinks it's too alluring for us to safesly suppose that Plato means only to condemn democracy. The irony, when Socrates describes the wonders of democracy, may be doubled.)
Which is, probably, a line to follow in another paper. For the one I'm commenting on, and for Strauss's interpretation, the question that remains with me is: how would leaving Athens disorder Socrates's soul? I was looking at the Phaedrus yesterday to confirm that Socrates doesn't say any more there than I thought he did (and he doesn't) about why he doesn't leave the city (though that's about why he doesn't go into the countryside, rather than why he doesn't go to another city)--he says it's because he loves learning, and trees and stones don't teach him anything, but people do. Well, how can you take that at face value? People teach Socrates nothing, he, or rather Plato, keeps insisting, except that they have nothing to teach. So why does Socrates really never leave the city? What--setting aside some sort of neurosis--is going to disorder his soul if he steps outside the walls? In the Republic, it's said that the philosopher has an obligation to come back into the cave and set it straight. That might be part of it, but it's not sufficient (and Socrates says he's never been out of the cave anyway, and what about his daimon that tells him to stay out of politics ... ).
Speaking of unsettling souls by switching cities, here goes mine....
