Statesman

"This was the subject of my PhD thesis and my first book. It’s a very neglected dialogue of Plato’s, and wrongly so, I think. Often people say Plato has three great political dialogues, the Republic , the Statesman and the Laws . One problem with saying that is that you might say all his dialogues have a political dimension. So even if you say, OK, these are the three dialogues that explicitly treat the nature of politics and constitutions, the Republic and the Laws look much more similar. They’re giving legislation for cities in speech, the Republic for an ideal city, the Laws for what’s explicitly called a second-best city, a not as ideal city but still a good city. They both make laws, they both describe the nature of these cities, they’re both very long. The Statesman looks very different from that. What the Statesman is doing is asking, Is there such a thing as political expertise or political knowledge? What is it exactly that a true statesman would have to know? The reason that’s an interesting question is that in the Republic it kind of looked like all you have to do is be a philosopher. If you just know the good and the nature of reality, what Plato called the forms or ideas, that’s enough. Then you have some practical experience, but it’s never really explained how the practical experience and the philosophy connect together to provide knowledge of politics. What would it therefore be, to be someone who knows about politics, as opposed to just knowing philosophy? That’s what the Statesman really explores. You do need to read it from cover to cover, but there’s one bit we might talk about more because it is this critique of writing and written law which relates to what we were saying before. You have this statesman who is ultimately defined as having knowledge of the kairos , the opportune moment for action, which Aristotle would later define as ‘the good in time’. At the end of the dialogue, that knowledge-cum-skill is illustrated by trying to moderate between hawks and doves. There are people who are too bellicose and hawkish on war and people who are too dove-ish and want peace, sometimes at the wrong moment. The statesman will be able to set up shared opinions (beliefs and values) and even marriages between these two groups that will moderate their views and enable them to better perceive the right moment for political action. Yes. What I think is so interesting about it is that at the end of the dialogue, he says there are three other arts which are closest to the statesman’s arts. These are being a general, being a judge and being an orator. Those were the offices that were thought of as the political offices in Greek cities at the time. What he’s arguing is that you’re going to have people doing these standard political roles, but a good politics would also have this superordinate, co-ordinating role that’s above all the standard offices — but still needs to be integrated into the society as a whole lest it won’t be able to achieve the good. Something like that. It’s actually very puzzling to work out exactly. I don’t think he thought this would be an office. He plays with this question. The image in the passage about the laws is, What if you had a statesman, and then they went away. What would they use writing for? If they were there they wouldn’t need to use writing because they would be able to just tell everyone what to do at the right moment. But if they go away, then they have to leave little written notes and reminders, like your doctor gives you a set of written prescriptions. That’s the role of written laws, in rough summary. He’s very aware that writing will always only be imperfect and generalising, because it can’t take account of every situation. Like your prescription: it might say ‘Take one every night before bed,’ but it doesn’t realise you might be running a high fever in which case you shouldn’t take one. It’s not going to be able to take account of all situations. So written laws are always going to be imperfect, but they will be necessary, particularly if you don’t have someone who has the full knowledge and is able to exercise it. We get this developed further in another dialogue by Plato called the Phaedrus where, again, though interestingly it’s often neglected, he brings his critique to bear on written laws. People often just treat this Plato book as a critique of writing. He says that the problem with writing is that writing runs away with itself, it starts to say things to everyone and anyone, it’s not attuned to the needs of, and the understanding of, a hearer. So it can be taken out of context, it can be misunderstood, it becomes stale. Again, it’s only useful if it can be a tool for someone who has knowledge but just needs to be reminded. If you give writing to someone who hasn’t really genuinely gained knowledge, it won’t really inform them. That’s a very deep and interesting concern. No. I think his understanding that there’s something distinctive to political knowledge is a very important idea, as is his awareness of the factors like money and power that tend to inhibit its operation. I just spent a week at an intensive seminar reading Book VIII of the Republic. In this Plato book he describes how the ideal constitution might decay into a regime focused on honour — like Sparta was at the time — or into an oligarchy, or a democracy, or a tyranny. What’s fascinating is his awareness of the very complex dynamic between love of money and love of honour. If people love money do they want acquisition or do they want consumption? One of the things Plato says in that book which is kind of amazing is how you could have a law that would stem the excesses of oligarchy, where people are too prone to lend money and impoverish the citizens. He says if you have a law that all lending is at the owner’s or creditor’s risk, that would inhibit the flaws of oligarchy. That would actually not be such a bad idea as a law."