Plato and Fascism

My own introduction to philosophy consisted of three thinkers: Plato, Hobbes, and Rousseau. While these three thinkers are dissimilar enough to have had my university professor ask how philosophy could be adequately defined if all three were indeed philosophers–evidently, this was his purpose–they have in many ways informed my views of government to this day, as I see echoes of each of these three thinkers in American and world history, and at work in the current political debate in the US.

Let’s begin with Plato (424-348 BC). In his Republic, Plato, using Socrates as his voice, viewed the world as an imperfect representation of perfect ideas that existed elsewhere. Contrary to common consensus, these perfect ideas were real–they represented reality–whereas the world around us is an insubstantial illusion. He likened the world that we can see to shadows being cast on a cave wall, representing the reality that existed outside the cave:

Behold! human beings living in a underground den, which has a mouth open towards the light and reaching all along the den; here they have been from their childhood, and have their legs and necks chained so that they cannot move, and can only see before them, being prevented by the chains from turning round their heads. Above and behind them a fire is blazing at a distance, and between the fire and the prisoners there is a raised way; and you will see, if you look, a low wall built along the way, like the screen which marionette players have in front of them, over which they show the puppets.

(Republic, Chapter 7)

He believed that what we see is thus the illusion of reality, but not reality in and of itself. The true reality is the reality that we cannot see: The world of ideas. The highest of these ideas–the idea most difficult to grasp, is the idea of the good:

My opinion is that in the world of knowledge the idea of good appears last of all, and is seen only with an effort; and, when seen, is also inferred to be the universal author of all things beautiful and right, parent of light and of the lord of light in this visible world, and the immediate source of reason and truth in the intellectual; and that this is the power upon which he who would act rationally, either in public or private life must have his eye fixed.

(Republic, Chapter 7)

Plato’s idea state was one ruled by just such a person–one who would act rationally, one who had grasped the good:

When they have reached fifty years of age, then let those who still survive and have distinguished themselves in every action of their lives and in every branch of knowledge come at last to their consummation; the time has now arrived at which they must raise the eye of the soul to the universal light which lightens all things, and behold the absolute good; for that is the, pattern according to which they are to order the State and the lives of individuals, and the remainder of their own lives also; making philosophy their chief pursuit, but, when their turn comes, toiling also at politics and ruling for the public good, not as though they were performing some heroic action, but simply as a matter of duty; and when they have brought up in each generation others like themselves and left them in their place to be governors of the State, then they will depart to the Islands of the Blest and dwell there; and the city will give them public memorials and sacrifices and honour them, if the Pythian oracle consent, as demi-gods, but if not, as in any case blessed and divine.

(Republic, Chapter 7)

It is a gross oversimplification, but nevertheless true statement, to say that while Plato generally viewed the world and man as imperfect, he felt that perfection did indeed exist in this world and that what was imperfect could be perfected. Plato’s ideal ruler was thus a man who could see–or indeed, already lived–outside of the cave, a person who could apprehend the perfect good. This man, a philosopher like himself, would be able to rule a society, which is made up of people who thought the shadows were real, as a kind of benevolent dictator.

Plato saw this benevolent dictatorship as a preferable alternative to an oligarchy, democracy, and tyranny. In Plato’s view, an oligarchy was simply a government run by and for the wealthy. On the other hand, a democracy was one run by the poor. Because the poor have their eyes set on the world around them (the world of shadows), they are unable to distinguish the good:

See too … the forgiving spirit of democracy … and the disregard which she shows of all the fine principles which we solemnly laid down at the foundation of the city … how grandly does she trample all these fine notions of ours under her feet, never giving a thought to the pursuits which make a statesman, and promoting to honour any one who professes to be the people’s friend. These and other kindred characteristics are proper to democracy, which is a charming form of government, full of variety and disorder, and dispensing a sort of equality to equals and unequals alike.

(Republic, Chapter 8)

To fully grasp Plato’s elitism, one must realize that he is being ironic in his seeming praise of democracy. While we prize our system which dispenses a sort of equality to equals and unequals alike, he is horrified by it, and sees it as one step away from tyranny:

Say then, my friend, in what manner does tyranny arise? –that it has a democratic origin is evident. Clearly. And does not tyranny spring from democracy in the same manner as democracy from oligarchy –I mean, after a sort?

(Republic, Chapter 8)

Because of what Plato would describe as democracy’s irrational nature, where no distinction is made between what is honorable and what is dishonorable, in his view it will always result in upheaval and oppression, leading the people to seek a protector. This protector then becomes the dictator–the tyrant.

Technically, in the days of ancient Greece a tyrant was not necessarily one who ruled harshly. Rather, a tyrant was one who ruled extra-constitutionally. Many tyrants may have in fact been more democratic and fairer than rulers in the other forms of governments common to ancient Greece. The key distinction between tyranny and Plato’s government by a philosopher-king appears to be that, to Plato, a tyrant did not rule according to the good: The tyrant was a brutish, cynical man who mobilized public opinion to gain power for himself, for his own ends, and only in reference to the world of shadows, oblivious to the good that existed. That many tyrants appealed to the people for popular support may have in fact disqualified tyrants from being philosopher-kings in Plato’s view.

Ironically, many of Plato’s students in fact became tyrants, according to the definition commonly accepted at the time. This would be in keeping with the main flaw in Plato’s philosophy: Plato viewed man and society as imperfect, but perfectible. The philosopher-king was a perfected man ruling over a society that was being perfected. However, in the real world–the world of shadows that Plato so disdained–there are no perfect men and, while society can be made better, it cannot be made perfect.

Plato’s idea of the perfect state is the spiritual forebear of fascism. While fascism sees the world as imperfect, it postulates that there is a perfect man (or group of men) who could and should rule everyone else. Other people are not equipped to see what this man sees–indeed, they may even live so far in the cave that they have no idea that they are living in a cave. Thus, an enlightened ruler must make decisions on their behalf. His rule should be unquestioned, as the people are not even qualified to ask questions of him, or think, or make decisions for themselves.

While there is a great distance between Plato’s ideas and fascism in its modern form, Plato’s elitism leads naturally to the idea that some people may be genetically more inclined towards being able to grasp “the good” that no one else can comprehend. This ties directly in with eugenics. And, indeed, Plato’s perfect state was Sparta, which practiced eugenics in a bid to cull the weak from society and build a better people. From this, there is but a step to the racist theories that have characterized nearly all fascists regimes throughout history.

Another common bond between Plato’s philosophy and fascism is the role of myth. To people chained in a cave looking at shadows, a description of the “real” world outside the cave would take on mythical dimensions to them–they would be unable to grasp it otherwise. To these people in chains, this real world could only be explained with tales of the heroic adventures of gods and demigods. Of course, the philosopher-king would know the truth–that these gods and demigods represent ideas, and nothing more. It naturally follows that a philosopher-king would thus be wise to use myth as a tool to teach and manipulate the people (Plato called this a “noble lie”). By this same token, fascism inherently relies on and glorifies national myths to justify its rule.

These commonalities are more than just superficial. While Plato may not have been a fascist, once we begin with the premise that an elite of intellectually, morally, or spiritually superior beings can and should do the thinking for everyone else, lying or weaving myths if necessary in order to gain and keep control, then fascism or something very much like it is the end result. Plato’s thinking may seem innocuous, and many people even today glorify Sparta. However, few people who value freedom and thought would want to live in the kind of world that Plato is advocating. It is a meritocracy where a small handful of people become rulers, and everyone else serfs–though more often than not the serfs are deliberately kept in the dark about their nature of their enslavement and the motivations and goals of their leaders.

Apart from the lies and the lack of any kind of personal freedom for those on the bottom, a basic weakness of Plato’s system is the method of choosing leaders. Who decides and by what measure is someone considered worthy to lead and become dictator to everyone else? While Plato gives a method for determining who should lead, there is no evidence offered apart from his own preferences or prejudices to validate his way of choosing a leader. There is really no way to assess whether the potential ruler is really all-wise and all-benevolent–assuming such a man ever existed anywhere in the world.  It is all entirely subjective. What makes the ruler so wise and good that he should be king and everyone else slaves? We only have his word on it, yet the word of most men who wish to lead is nearly worthless. The people may well do better choosing a leader  by lot.

Ultimately, Plato’s meritocracy can only ever be a tyranny, in every sense of the word.

(RTF 1)

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