A World of Untruth: Can We Learn From Plato?
By Meher Sethi
In the hit Netflix film Don’t Look Up, Leonardo DiCaprio and Jennifer Lawrence desperately try to convince Meryl Streep and Jonah Hill to take action regarding an apocalyptic comet due for Earth in six months’ time. It’s hilarious!
Adam McKay and David Sirota bring us a brilliant, grim, and shockingly realistic depiction of a nation, and world, in distress. While the central conflict pulls from Sci-Fi, the film is a masterpiece of political commentary. In addition to other themes, it most directly addresses the timely and frightening question: why can’t we just listen to the truth?
In a world of increasingly frustrating ignorance, from anti-vaxxers to climate deniers, it seems as though the widespread rejection of facts, reason, and science is a relatively new phenomenon — all while existential crises pile on top of one another. The severity of this predicament became abundantly clear to us when Kellyanne Conway, former Senior Counselor to former President Trump, seemed to coin the phrase, “alternative facts.” Today, vaccine hesitancy is fueled by misinformation. According to the Economist, a third of Americans deny the existence of human-caused climate change. And still, over a year into the Biden presidency, over 40% of Americans do not believe that Joe Biden legitimately won the 2020 election. Some attribute its dominance to the internet/social media and some to a new tide of fascist politics. While these currents no doubt affect and even exacerbate the matter, the conflict between reason and politics pervades the history of political thought. At this moment, perhaps revisiting the wisdom of the past — specifically, ancient Greek philosophy — will shine light on the affairs of the present.
Before digging into Plato, I should note that the pre-contemporary conception of philosophy was far more broad than ours today. Classical philosophers were at once — to use modern terminology — astronomers, physicists, biologists, psychologists, and political scientists. They were, in the truest sense of the word, lovers (philo) of wisdom (sophia). For the sake of conceptual symmetry, I’ll frequently refer to philosophy as, broadly speaking, the exercise of reason and the pursuit of knowledge, both through logic and the scientific method.
Plato, student of Socrates and teacher of Aristotle, is considered one of the foundational thinkers within western philosophy. I’ll be focusing on two canonical Platonic works: the Republic (trans. C.D.C. Reeve) and the Apology (trans. G.M.A. Grube).
The Republic is written as a dialogue between Socrates and several interlocutors on the nature of justice. In order to discover this truth, they aim to locate justice within an ideal city in speech: Kallipolis. However, this hypothetical city elucidates far more about politics and philosophy themselves than the ideal regime. Over the course of the city’s construction, the interlocutors entertain outrageous propositions such as infanticide (Republic, 460c), eugenics (460a), and mass censorship (401b). We wonder whether or not to take Kallipolis seriously at all. At the least, the head-scratching moments serve to highlight an inherent tension between politics and philosophy. To Plato, the ideals of theory may be incompatible (perhaps for the best) with the realities of political life.
However, the ills of politics compared to philosophy are most clearly understood through the lens of deception and control. For instance, Socrates communicates that Kallipolis must be built on several “noble lies,” intentionally deceptive policies (such as the Myth of the Metals) necessitated by the demands of just rule (Republic, 414c-e). We ought to keep in mind that the apparent contradictions within Plato’s portrayal of just rule may actually serve as an intentionally ironic critique of politics itself.
Moreover, the most familiar Platonic image, the Allegory of the Cave, is illuminatory:
“Imagine human beings living in an underground, cave-like dwelling, with an entrance a long way up that is open to the light and as wide as the cave itself. They have been there since childhood, with their necks and legs fettered, so that they are fixed in the same place, able to see only in front of them, because their fetter prevents them from turning their heads around. Light is provided by a fire burning far above and behind them. Between the prisoners and the fire, there is an elevated road stretching. Imagine that along this road a low wall has been built — like the screen in front of people that is provided by puppeteers, and above which they show their puppets… Also imagine, then, that there are people alongside the wall carrying multifarious artifacts that project above it — statues of people and other animals, made of stone, wood, and every material. And as you would expect, some of the carriers are talking and some are silent.” (Republic, 514a-c)
The prisoners’ lives revolve around the shadows cast in front of them. As Socrates says, “What the prisoners would take for true reality is nothing other than the shadows of those artifacts” (515c). However, one day, a prisoner is freed from his shackles; he exits the cave and (literally) sees the light. Unfortunately, when he attempts to enlighten his peers, he is met with ridicule and even violence (517a). Scholars have developed a plethora of interpretations of this famous allegory. Here’s what I think is critical to our discussion: the carriers, presumably Plato’s political contemporaries, captivate the prisoners in an illusory world, manufacturing hostility towards the intellectual and the truth. This image is seared into our brains; aren’t statements like “climate change is a chinese hoax” or (false) implications of replacement theory just shadows on the wall? Nothing but ploys to turn heads away from the cave’s escape?
Evidently, deception is not foreign to our political reality. One is reminded of Meryl Streep’s character in Don’t Look Up, a mirror to Trump, who initiates the #Don’tLookUp campaign to engender doubt over the existence of an annihilatory comet! Similarly, Trump himself has instilled overwhelming doubt regarding issues such as public health and climate change to, unsuccessfully, protect his political interests. Deception aids political figures in controlling the narrative.
The Apology “professes to be a record of the actual speech Socrates delivered in his own defense” (Grube, 21) at the trial in which he was charged for corruption of the youth and disbelief in the gods of the city. The political players of Athens are urged to suppress that which even remotely challenges the city’s religious and moral traditions. As Socrates states,
“Be sure, men of Athens, that if I had long ago attempted to take part in politics, I should have died long ago, and benefited neither you nor myself. Do not be angry with me for speaking the truth; no man will survive who genuinely opposes you or any other crowd and prevents the occurrence of many unjust and illegal happenings in the city.” (Apology, 31d-e)
Socrates argues that politics fosters animosity towards the possibly disruptive force of philosophy. Even the political conditions of ancient Athens bred a similar anti-intellectualism to that which endures today. And yet Socrates unabashedly questions the authority and wisdom of his audience. In reflecting on an encounter with an Athenian political figure, Socrates states:
“I am likely to be wiser than he to a small extent, that I do not think I know what I do not know” (Apology, 21d).
Socrates illustrates that the conditions of public life compel individuals to engage in deception regarding their own command of the truth; the value of knowledge stems from its utility and accompanying reputation. This ignorance erodes the sense of humility which seekers must imbibe.
The self-examining, fundamentally critical, and radically skeptical Socratic method stands in contradistinction to the pride and hubris with which one is empowered to unilaterally reject intellectual authority and reason in and of itself.
Above all, the Apology is a defense of philosophy. Socrates inspires folks to question the givens, humble arrogance, and enlighten ignorance. Even when Socrates is given the chance to plead for his life in court by committing to the termination of his philosophical method and practice, the martyr accentuates the necessity of thoroughly investigating moral complacency, material desire, and action — both in the public and private spheres — driven by unconscious, irrational, and sub-philosophical thought.
“As long as I draw breath, I shall not cease to practice philosophy, to exhort you and in my usual way point to any one of you whom I happen to meet… I shall question him, examine him, and test him” (Apology, 29d-e)
To Socrates, this is his God-given duty and service to the city — to stir up Athens like a kind of “gadfly” (30e).
I argue that we too should look to philosophy, understood as the exercise of the rational mind towards truths of nature, human activity, and the like, as the remedy. To think philosophically is simply to think well and, therefore, to live well. In an interpretation by Leo Strauss of Plato’s Republic, “it will become clearer as we go along that the rule of philosophers is impossible. But the good society is directed toward the true end of man… toward that which is known to be truly good. Such knowledge is the objective of philosophy.”
Philosophy teaches us to question others, but it also teaches us to question ourselves. Philosophy is a private affair, but it has public effects.
As an antidote to our struggles with untruth, subject-matter experts are too often thrown on screen to quell public anxiety about eminent crises. For instance, see how Leonardo DiCaprio’s character in Don’t Look Up becomes a carefully media-trained Faucian communicator, prepped to reassure the folks at home with rehearsed statements along the lines of, “Don’t worry, our best and brightest are on the job.” This is of admirable intent, but our own gears must guide us with unbarred devotion to truth, equipping us with the facilities to combat politically-oriented attempts at public deception.
In what is not an endorsement of the man, I’ll note that Andrew Yang’s former presidential slogan, in particular, speaks to me: “Make America Think Harder” (MATH).
We must reinvigorate our lives with the spirit of philosophy — that is, the well-meaning application of reason and logic towards the good life for ourselves and our communities.
The unexamined life is not worth living. — Socrates
