{ } = word or expression can't be understood
{word} = hard to understand, might be this can still -- who has seen Indian reservations? Only so few. You can still -- you know a little bit about their religious ceremonies, and their dances. It means that 24 hours of the day, the tribe tells the individual what to do, what is right, with regard to the spirit, to what they have to say, what is expected from them to say in prayers, in songs, in ceremonies. And today there is a great interest in these -- after all, in these -- this ritual, in these dances, folk songs. Everything today is up and coming.

Now in any group that is secluded and complete, my mind, my -- political behavior, and my physical environment are on all fours. The tribe goes hunting, so the deer belongs to the tribe. Then it is -- and is sliced up and distributed among the tribe, so the woods and the ter- -- the -- the outer world, sun, and moon, and rain, and snow, everything is shared as the physic- -- physical environment, of this group, you see; and the spirit of this group inspires the individual to s- -- report, and to say, and to judge what this group needs.

Therefore, this tripartition, gentlemen, of logic, and physic, and ethics, is not pronounced. As soon as you get the Trojan War -- and that's the first time in human history that this happens. And you must know that Homeric man is a new invention, -- that Gree- -- the Greek mind is something that hasn't existed before.

Sir, put out your pipe.

That is, that in this Trojan war, people were forced to separate their logos, their physic, and their ethics. That the physique, the physical environment created by the Trojan War, was much wider, and approached a universe. And I think you can say that a Greek who read Homer was more universal-minded than Mr. McCarthy, or Mr. {Briggar}. They are isolationists. That is, they still hide in Central America. Called the Middle West. And -- their -- an isolationist dreams of this good life which you can have when ethic, logic, the -- and physics coincide.

You must see then, gentlemen, that the awakening of the mind is a cleavage between the area covered by physics, by my ethics, and by my logos, by the -- the speech, the spirit that fills me with enthusiasm so that I can go to war as an Athenian, or take -- today, as an American. You see it very clear in the Suez Canal business, and the oil business, that we have an economic way of reasoning which is worldwide, by which we equate physics, you see, and economy. You have high tariffs, and a Chamber of Commerce, and junior executives, and

options for -- for companies, and -- outstripping the -- the other countries in foreign markets. And there the ethics, you see, are coinciding with the United States of America, and they contradict the physics of our knowledge, you see, of our geography. Because after all, God created the universe, and not the United States. Or at least the U- -- the United States only under the condition that they admit that God created the earth, you see, and everything that therein is.

So your physics and your ethics do not coincide. In this very moment, the -- gods of the America, the red-blooded good American, you see, with the little school -- red schoolhouse, and the little white church is suddenly confronted with the question of, "Who is the real God? Is this -- is this church still praying for God Almighty? or only for God Incorporated?"

Oh, my dear m- -- people. Most gods to whom you pray are incorporated, and very limited indeed. You are quite sure that they do not hear or see you outside Sundays from 11 to 12. Very few people believe in God Almighty. The -- most people believe in God s- -- from 10 to 11, or from 11 to 12 as the case is -- for the Catholics, at 9. That's limited. That's incorporated, you see.

So you have made the gods members of the -- your city. So the logos, whom you seem to represent, is quite of a different expanse than the universe. Now my whole course of lectures has tried to show you that philosophy is the attempt to equate the questions raised by ethics, by physics, and by logic. Logic is the power that makes us speak. Will you take this down once more, gentlemen? Ethics is the power that makes other people listen. And physics is the order by which people behave as we say, and as we are told. The atomic bomb you can construe. That is, physics is what we think it is, because it explodes, you see. That is, the physical universe can, by our reasoning processes, be recognized and understood, interpreted. And so the physics is that which common reason can interpret as being so.

But if -- to whom do we talk about the atomic bomb? Gentlemen, the physicist talks to the Germans and to the Russians who construe now the next satellite, the new moon around the earth. They don't talk to you and me, you see. They have a family of -- in physics which -- differs totally from the family on -- on Thanksgiving dinner, in their home. So they live in several communities. And we all do, today. You take it for granted that in your own field you must know -- in medicine, for example, or in chemistry, you see, what people in other countries know. With regard to how- -- -ever President Eisenhower's policy, it's much better not to know what the other nations think of it.

So we live today in three worlds. Every one of you is a battlefield, gentlemen, of conflicting -- facts, of conflicting processes, of thinking, of acting, of --

of living. Most people, of course, go to the country club and forget all about it. And then they are very surprised when they wake up next day and have to go to war, or something like it, or -- or the stock exchange is off 10 percent since August 9th. How -- how strange. What wicked people -- must live in the world to cut down on brokers' income.

So if -- there is philosophy only as long as this dialectic exists. As soon as we would live in a universe, you see, in which the physical environment, the political environment, you see, and the functions of all people would be made to be congruous, all thinking would stop, as it -- did stop in the United States during the last -- last two years. We had prosperity, we had a -- a seeming peace, we had no danger -- immediate danger, and therefore, people st- -- stopped to think. This happens always, gentlemen. The same happened in 1928. People do not want to philosophize. And it is unnecessary for those -- part of the population, you see, for which, like for a baby, these things are congruous. For a baby that lives in a -- in a -- in a cottage in the woods, there is no philosophy, you see. His ethics, his logic, and his -- and his physics coincide. There are no -- is absolutely no reason, no discrepancy between these through circles. As soon as these -- circles, however, do not coincide, man has to begin to think.

And now I tried to show you, gentlemen, that the great step into philosophy was done by Parmenides, because he says, "Let us think about this conflict outside the city." And he settles with his staff of juvenile disciples, outside the walls of any one individual community, and begins to think about the community as though this was just a semblance, a transient thing, what he called "an appearance," a phenomenon.

Today we have a school of thinkers still in this world -- we had several members of the department now -- they are no longer here, who call themselves "phenomenologists." You have heard this term? Who has heard this term? Well, it means that we have the power, like Parmenides, to look at the world as a world of appearances. And we are more clever -- we look behind the appearances, you see. Or we are at least not compelled to do anything about this appearing there. These are just phenomena. Like rain or shine. And -- very tempting for the -- human mind always.

Phenomenology is nothing new. They invented this Greek term. But it is the constant attitude since 500 A.D. to try to get outside this -- these terrible cities where men are slaughtered for the war -- for the glory of the city in war, or where they are condemned for injustices by -- for athe- -- eism, like Socrates. And you can therefore say, gentlemen, that philosophy lives by this, what I call today the liberal arts college, by insti- -- institutions that carry into every nation general thought, and remind the people in the city that the environment inside

which they live is greater. And never is there any congruity between nature, you see, ethics, and the spirit that makes them speak, themselves.

And I told you there are -- these are the three miracles that man discovered. The miraculous world, the bewitched world, the enchanted world in which the old Egyptians, or the old Assyrians, or the Chinese lived down to 19- -- -11, you see, the Chinese had sorcerers. This bewitched world had not split into these three divisions: the power that makes me speak, my god, you see, makes me say something new, which nobody has heard before. I suddenly have to burst out into a song, or a curse, or an oath, or something, you see. That's the power that overcomes me. Any power that overcomes me is such.

Look at the Hungarians. These poor people didn't know six weeks be- -- before that they would ever all be shot dead or refugees. They had no idea. But they did it, didn't they? And you can't understand them. They are miracles, you see. Probably you would never have done this, you say. You wouldn't resist tanks, Russian tanks and blow them up with your bare hands. You couldn't have done that. They didn't know that they could do it, you see. They didn't plan this. They didn't know that they could do this.

That's always a power, gentlemen, that is stronger than my preconception, you see, than my reasoning, which we call God. God is the power that makes you do something yesterday you thought you couldn't do. That's the only definition of God that holds water, gentlemen. Everything else is -- is, I think, valueless. But every one of you, when he proposes to a girl, I hope, only proposes after he has said to himself the evening before, "No. I won't be such a fool to get married." The test of love is, gentlemen, that you have to do it against your will. Anybody who wants to love, shouldn't ever get married. He can go to girls other way -- another way. Marriage is a torment, because it's a sacrifice; it's the renunciation of new inventions. And you cannot marry, gentlemen, really, and you get a divorce, if you, like a boy of 18, say, "Oh, it's so nice." Gentlemen, marriage is not nice. It is -- I prefer the bridegroom who has a splitting headache on his wedding day to the boy who goes into the wedding dancing. A wedding is too serious. That's -- bad as a funeral. I mean it. I prefer a man who sweats agonies on his wedding day than to the man who thinks it's all wonderful. That isn't so simple, gentlemen. Your mother-in-law isn't wonderful. Let alone the father-in-law.

Really, gentlemen. You are absolutely silly, and what you call idealists, or -- or -- or -- or -- to me you are funny. Because when I state such a thing, I just talked to a boy in a -- hotel, the Hanover Inn, and he asked me how I could believe in God. Just so, after lunch, before class. And he said, "How can you be so dogmatic?"

And I said, "How can you be so funny?"

Now, gentlemen, if you take this year 500 as the appearance on the scene, after a hundred years of groping from the -- {Ionian} philosophers onward, and Pythagoras, to put forward a constant attempt of harmonizing for every generation these three challenges according to the environment, according to the challenge of the day, then you see that in 399, this comes to a head in the trial of Socrates. This old city here, of Athens--this being Athens, this being Sparta, this being Miletus, this being Elea, this being, let us say, Syracuse, we need these cities as examples--they are still strong enough to mistake Socrates for a man of this century, a sophist. That is, a man who tries to live himself outside the city, and only teach the city, correct the city, criticize the city, without playing the game himself, without saying what he believes, only criticizing, only saying, you see, that his ethics are better. And I call this, the li- -- the century of the better state. Well, the -- the -- the -- the mudrakers, the debunkers, the Charles Beards, or whomever you take -- the -- the Lincoln Steffens, they are people of this sophist character. They say, "We know of a better state."

I told you that Socrates comes into Athens when all these attempts, from all these other states have been made, hundreds of sophists swarm over the -- Greek Isles, Italy, and Asia Minor, and bring into the cities the word -- that the world is indeed larger than any one city, that people must try to exchange in a second language between the Spartan dialect and the Athenian dialect some general truth, that they must become in a way citizens of the world, or of the universe. And they planned this new word -- the "whole." I told you that -- Latin, we only use unfortunately the word "universe." The Greek word for this is "pan". A very important word. And I -- the important word, the fact about this word, "the universe," is that it is "it." That, gentlemen, it is the victory of physics over ethics and logic that is proclaimed in the term "universe," because if you and I live only in a universe, then there is no power that can command me with the -- the still, small voice. "It" cannot command. "It" is dead. And if "it" is the only reality, and if I and you are only parts of the un- -- particles in the universe, you see, then you are an atom. And I can treat you as an atom. I can smash you up, and you can smash me up. And it's a fight from all against all, you see.

And all Greek philosophy, gentlemen, has this weighed preference for the neutral universe. You can say that Greek -- Greek philosophy places the greatest stress on the fact that it wants to explain the universe, and that every ethical and logical problem of the gods and of man takes second seat.

Now what's omitted in this dream of the universe, gentlemen? And why is the death of Socrates, with whom we are now dealing in The Republic, such a great event in the history of the human mind? Why is -- everybody knows that --

Socrates drew hemlock? Gentlemen, much better men have drunk hemlock, and have been burned at stake. The Inquisition, and the Protestants, and the Catholics have killed many more wise men than this one man in -- in Athens. Why is Socrates such a great man? Why is it such a great case?

Because it is the conflict, gentlemen, between life and death that occurs here for the first -- the universe is dead, and it cannot die. And the whole promise of Greek philosophy is to say, "Death does not matter." Will you take this down, gentlemen? Death only matters for the spirit and for man. The spirit can die, and we can die. And we do not want to die, and the spirit must not die. They -- we shall not. You see, we -- we proclaim that we are in agony.

Now, all Greek philosophy and all Dartmouth students pretend that they have no fear of death, that by philosophy you can eradicate this fear, because you speak of the universe. In the universe, dead and living things are not distinguished. The sun is just as good as you and I. But I don't care for the sun, to tell you the truth. I care for my own life, and I hope you do, too. And to have to die is a very serious business. It only happens once, you see. And it isn't helped any by saying that all men must die. The existential proclamation of Mr. Sartre in France has been -- or from Kierkegaard -- it is not interesting to say that all men must die, you see. But it's terribly interesting to say that I must die, you see. That's the whole distinction between philosophy, gentlemen, and living. In life, the whole difference is that I must die, or you must die, in person, you see. In -- for the universe, it's just expected. All men must die.

Therefore, gentlemen, if we speak from the universe, we put reason on the throne. If we speak of men, we put the heart on the throne, because the heart is frightened by real death. The mind does not look in the direction of the death of the person who has this mind, in whose mind these pictures of the universe are -- are floating around. All modern talk is so ridiculous, and psychology, because they do not begin with the fear of death. They dismiss it. They investigate your retina reactions, and they investigate your muscle. And they speak of insecurity, and such little things, gentlemen. But the general experience of humanity is that we must die. And all wi- -- wisdom, gentlemen, comes from the fact that we must die. What you call the "soul," gentlemen, is the power to anticipate your death. The soul is the power in man who, from the very first days of a child being spoken to anticipates the death of the child. The soul is not born at birth, but the soul comes into you as anticipation of your death. That's what we call the soul.

Now Socrates, gentlemen, is the one philosopher in whom the relation of the universe to death becomes actual. Far -- he has not written a book. He's only famous for his death, because he has shown people how to die, how to die.

That's the greatness of Socrates. And therefore, gen- -- in this distribution, gentlemen, of logic, physic, and ethics, the logos, the {demony} of Socrates, the spirit of Socrates retains its sovereignty, because in addition to being a philosopher, that is, to have asked questions, he has shown people how to die.

Jesus teaches something quite different. Jesus has not taught people how to die. But He has taught us that we die, fruitfully. The meaning of death He has revealed, not the circumstances. Socrates had no fear. He was very pleasant. He said it doesn't matter. And he showed people to -- to be unafraid. Jesus didn't play with such things. He was sweating agony. He thought that God had forsaken Him. But His death is the most fruitful action that any human being has ever undertaken.

So the relation of Chri- -- Christianity to death is totally different from that of Greek philosophy. There's no equation between Socrates and Christ whatsoever. It's absolutely miles -- worlds apart. But the thing we have to retain from Socrates is that it is possible to die fearlessly--but meaninglessly, too. The death of Socrates is not meaningful in itself, but it is -- it is the -- the instrumental -- so, the instru- -- the -- well, you can say it's pragmatic, or how should I say it? -- the -- the -- the how, the circumstance, the condition of his death are model cases of virility, and sobriety, and temperance, and courage. That is, of the four cardinal virtues of -- of Greek philosophy.

And therefore, we may say, gentlemen, that in Socrates, the school of Parmenides, the school that took man outside the city, is reconnected with the city, because the man who is treated as a sophist erroneously, you see, although he did take the sophists themselves to task, this man showed that he also is a citizen, even in a negative sense. If the city puts him to death, he will not grumble. He says, "I still am grateful to the laws of the city." And the death of Socrates, gentlemen, restores the equilibrium between his own city, his ow- -- the laws of his own country, and the world outside. Not in his statements. We have none -- you see, none which is authentic. But in his life -- does he remain the -- connected with the very city from which Greek philosophy departed, which it wanted to objectify, which it wanted to put into the universe, you see, as an inanimate matter, so to speak, as something ob- -- to be objectively studied.

Now objects, you see, do not talk back. But the laws of Athens did talk back, and Socrates said, "I can only objectify philosophy like Parmenides and the Eleatic school, or -- Thales and the Ionian school, as long as I am also allowing the city to talk back, and to misunderstand me. That's the risk I have to take. I have to belong to a city, while I am dealing with the universe."

As long as you do not understand this cleavage, gentlemen, of you and

me, using here in the classroom a universal reasoning process, you see, and still remaining faithful to the laws of this country, you cannot understand the reason why we have to philosophize, because there is a conflict. There is a real conflict. And that's a conflict lived to our, I think, to men's -- to the mind's satisfaction, lived to the -- to the utmost by Socrates. Socrates doesn't allow the mind to flee into -- into stratospheres of mental screwballs and brown ivory towers, you see. The ivory tower remains a taxpayer, and he pays the tax -- Socrates, you see -- as the inhabitant of his ivory tower, and says I -- he is glad to.

Most philosophers, as you know -- try to brush aside this, and -- just either they try to remain anonymous, or they say, "I haven't said anything," or they say, "Don't quote me," and that's a -- they are noncommittal when it comes to public utterances. And therefore the door is locked to these escapists by Socrates. He says, "At the same time that I am looking for absolute truth," you see, "I admit that I am under the temporary, absolute law of my city." If you can understand it, understand it. But that's the cor- -- crux of Greek philosophy, gentlemen, to this day.

There's a book in our library. It's called Caliban. It's a very terrible book. It's the book on a Swedish sculptor who came to this country, and defies all the laws of Sweden and America, and is very proud of it. But at the end of his life, he had -- has -- he writes his own life, he at least has the good taste to call himself Caliban. And he is. He is just a human monster. He has broken all the laws of humanity. And the only repentance, so to speak, is not in the text of the book, but I think in the title, you see. Like Mr. Drew Pearson, who now writes as "S.O.B." Well, I think it's quite serious. I hope Mr. Winchell will do the same.

So, perhaps you take this down as our formula. Socrates represents the conflict between the universe and my time and s- -- place. "My country" is perhaps the best expression today, and "my own time." Any man's own time, and any man's own country is ethically and logically, you see, still upon me. That is, they speak to me, while I am dealing with the universe, you see. And if Mr. Oppenheimer has Communist -- affiliations, he is just dismissed from the defense program, and sits in Princeton, you see, and doesn't get any information on the atom. That's a similar case. It's in America, where there are no tragedies, it hasn't ended in drinking the hemlock. In Socra- -- in Athens, of course, Mr. Oppenheimer--or in Russia--would have been executed long ago. That's not mea- -- saying that Oppenheimer is not the better man than all his accusers, you see, but it says they have the right to misunderstand him. You understand? They can misunderstand him, and he is under their sovereignty. I think he has been misunderstood largely. But that doesn't alter the fact that the decision is not his, but is theirs, you see. To be an authority is also to have the right to make mistakes. Can you see this?

Therefore the city in Socrates' case was given the right to make a mistake, because Socrates was not -- is not the overlord of his god, and of his -- of his cocitizens, you see. The ethic and the logic never put man into the -- up as God himself; whereas, to the universe, I can prescribe the laws of my mind. I can make them speak mathematic, so to speak, you see. The dead things have to obey me. But my neighbors and God Almighty just don't happen to do so. I get leukemia at the very moment that I think I am, you see, at the top of my life, and I die. What about that?

When William James, gentlemen, had a terrible heart disease, and was going to die, and was one year before his death, he said, "But God can't let me die, now."

And his wife asked, "Dear Bill, why, why do you think so?"

"Because I -- I'm -- just now feel fit to live. I just now, after 69 years, learned how a man should live." You see? It didn't help him. He died.

Well, you never take this seriously. Yet you really think that when a great man is a good thinker, that there is no conflict in his existence. The same thinker is, of course, very humiliated by the fact that about the -- the lifetime that God gives him, he knows absolutely nothing, you see. So what does it amount? All's -- I know all the riddles of the universe, you know the psalm: "If I go to the end of the earth," you see -- you know the psalm? Which psalm is it? "If I take wings of the morning, and flew to the ends of the earth, and" -- or "hid in the depths of the sea, what would it help me? God will still find me out." Which psalm is it? Oh, gentlemen. You find it. Who is going to study divinity? {Do}, you'd better look that up.

So please don't believe that this problem is not with Socrates. Socrates solves it, however, in his -- in his taking his place between his physics, and his ethics, and his logic. If the gods say, "Obey the law of your city," you see, that's the -- certainly against his intentions. But it has to be obeyed, because he is in the midst of a conflict between these three items, gentlemen. Physis is that which my mind can dominate. Logic is this, which -- by which my mind -- or logos is that by which my mind is dominated, you see. And my neighbors are -- I can treat them -- you can say that all other men are prejudiced, you see. That doesn't alter the fact that they will exert their prejudices against you. You see. It doesn't help you at all that you si- -- sit pretty and say, "Oh, they're just prejudiced against me." Unfortunately, they don't know this, you see. They think they are right. What -- what is -- what you call "their prejudice" is in their eyes of course their privilege. Isn't that right? And that's the real problem -- constant problem of ethics.

So in The Republic, we enter the fourth book straight away. There is -- Socrates is the hero. It's a -- the -- the centerpiece of -- of Plato's year -- founding years. You may divide Plato's life into the years before founding the Academy in 386, and afterwards. He was then exactly 41 years when he founded the Academy, when it dawned on him that there had to be in Athens--or in the suburbs of Athens, before the walls of Gre- -- Athens proper--there had to be a constant reminder of the death of Socrates. That's the story of the Platonic Academy, a constant reminder of Socrates. And all his dialogues, as you know, deal with this strange figure that represents himself a miracle of freedom, because he shows how to die, that shows the abuse of ethics against a man who's misunderstood, because he's taken to be the very thing he tried to combat, a sophist. And the third thing, he's asking valuable questions about our -- your -- la condition humaine, as they say today, about the human condition, about the fate of man in the wide world.

Book Four -- you must -- know that Socrates is -- is the speaker, is saying "I" in this dialogue. The Republic is -- has been later -- centuries later has been divided in 10 books, and that's not the Platonic division. For example, he made the division on Page 202, and there we would today -- we would have to redivide The Republic. We would probably make the division on Page 202. That's just an example, how careful you must be with those ancient texts. The -- many -- later librarians have done this textbook -- this division. Be- -- the conception of Pla- -- Plato himself is much more artistic.

So we begin in the middle of nowhere, in Book Four, but that's just for lack of time. Would you now kindly be- -- read -- read the text. Do you have it? Who has the text? Would you kindly show me how many are here? So who gets this copy? Page 217.

Now this is 386, in which this by and large is written. We don't know the date of The Republic. All this is under argument. But I think it is in some way coincident with the founding of the Academy, with this knowledge that the best city had to be discussed in order to get rid of the mere criticism of the sophists, of the -- about the better city. And so Socrates is dead long ago. He is dead for 13 years when this book is written. That's -- or more than a decade.

So on the other hand, Plato wants him to speak to us, so the scene is laid out 40 years -- 50 years backward, you see. And -- so what we read is not a text. It is artificially archaic. It's laid out in a past that probably has never occurred. So will you kindly now read?

("Adeimantus broke in here and said, `Defend yourself, { } if you can, Socrates. Suppose someone says that you are not making your men very happy. And they have themselves to thank

for it. The city is better than truth. But they get no such joy of it. As others who have gotten laws, and builded houses beautiful and large, collecting furniture to suit the houses, and making sacrifices of their own to gods, and became { }. Yes, indeed. It's exactly what you have just mentioned, gold and silver. And all of this is { } expected of those who are living {in bliss}. But these, he would say, appear like hired mercenaries of the city, sitting still and guarding nothing more.'")

Now let's pause here. He speaks here of the government of the best city. And I wanted to avoid all the first three books, because that's all leading up to this. And he says right away, suppose it's a problem which the Bolsheviks had to face in 1919, when they fixed the salary of all the guardians, the Bolsh- -- members of the Bolshevik executive committee of -- for -- on $227 a month. And they said no Bolshevik -- who was a member of the party was allowed to earn more.

Now this is the famous Platonic principle of separating happiness and government. Govern -- to govern doesn't mean to be happy, because it is a duty that can only be filled by people who don't care to be happy.

And so the first law, gentlemen, of the best city, which I wish you to contemplate is: is it a good idea that you have a cabinet of millionaires and one plumber? It's certainly anti-Platonic. He thought it wasn't a good idea. Now, I'm not a Platonist. And I -- you can debate this. It's a very interesting point, however, that the best city for Plato is only a city in which the government is immune against money, against wealth, in which the people prefer to be poor. This will plague us in the future, gentlemen. To you it is normal that it makes people happy to be rich. Sophie Tucker has said this, you see. She has said, "I've been rich; and I've been poor. But believe me, rich is best." That may be true for Sophie Tucker. But I don't care to be Sophie Tucker. That's the whole problem. Is Sophie Tucker your standard? If she i- -- it is, then you have to get rich, and then you have to use government for contracts. And then the oil people must run the government through the person of Mr. Dulles, and Mr. {Aldrich}, et cetera. Yes, we are governed by oil. The whole story is oil.

This is -- the first paragraph, gentlemen, then is unreal. As you see the whole unrealistic approach of Plato, because it is certainly easier to understand that government is by the rich, and for the rich, and through the rich, than to understand that it is by the poor, you see, for the rich. That's a little complicated, isn't it? Because he had the idea that monks should govern the city. They are a kind of monks, with regard to property. As you know, one of the three monastic vows today is poverty. And that's taken from the philosophy, and from the -- gymno- -- from the -- from {India}, from the even more developed ideas of -- of {India}.

Our monks, gentlemen, have a combination of three vows: chastity, obedience, as you know, and poverty. Now poverty comes from the Greek source. Chastity comes very much from India. And obedience comes from Judaism. And our modern -- our three vows are a very interesting combination of three influences, three streams. But poverty in the -- is already here in Plato. And you have heard of Cardinal Woolsey, perhaps, the contemporary of Henry VIII. Who has? Well, Jeanne d'Arc is another grea- -- in the whole 15th century, gentlemen, the European nations were in great difficulty of finding rulers, and they tried it with monks. And the deepest reason was -- Woolsey was not a monk, but others were -- the reason was that they were the only people who, you see, who, by their vows, came near to the guardians of the Platonic city. It was tried. It wasn't done -- executed. I mean, it was given up again. But you have this constant problem: is the better statesman not the man who is poor, and who has no interest in money? Lincoln certainly is a case in point. Washington is on the opposite side. We have both specimens, you see. You can decide one way or the other.

I only want to raise the question. It's an eternal question, and I think every generation will have to philosophize on this, because you can be -- you see, have too much austerity, if you have a bachelor who has no interest in money at the helm of the state, and you can go to the opposite: if you have only big business as government, something may go wrong, too. { } -- because big government is -- big business is very timid, and has no sense of honor. It has too large financial interest ever to do anything for honor's sake, or for keeping friends. They will risk nothing. The poor man, you see, will have -- be moved by quite other considerations.

Now, only to show you that we are in the midst of an eternal question. And perhaps you also see, gentlemen, that in ethics, there has to come forward in government a -- a philosopher in every generation. Because in every generation you can pervert the best state, you see, the good order, by going too far in one direction.

The -- it is worth your while, gentlemen, to put here in your margin, this 200 -- 2 -- $227 for the Bolshev- -- members of the Bolshevik party, as a reminder that Plato is with us. And I don't think -- I won't prophesy wrongly that in 50 years it would be impossible, it would be impossible in this country in 50 years to have this cabinet which we have today. It's -- would be impossible, because the people would not stand for this wealth on the top. Because then you get such creatures as Mr. {Stevens}, God bless him. Yes, and all that is expected for those who are to live in bliss. He even trans- -- uses this same expression, you see.

So Plato himself is -- is aware of his paradox, and it is an eternal paradox, gentlemen. I don't offer you any solution. Don't -- understand this. But you must see that it is a great question. Who is the best man to rule a city, you see? Because he must rule the rich and the poor. And so he must be in some third condition. And the whole crux of The Republic written -- is about the best. Because the best, gentlemen, is outside reality. It's utopian. And therefore, since in fact you only find rich and poor people, you see, they are here, am- -- with us, you see. If you want to construe government, the best government, you will always dream up something that is outside that what you find. You want to have something better.

Now what's the solution of Plato? What does he say? Who should govern? The philosopher, you see. So that's a third man, you see. He's neither influenced by poverty nor by riches, you may perhaps say. "Yes, I said..." go on, please. Will you take it?

("Yes, I said, and all serving for board and lodging, not even getting pay with their board like the others. They can't even go abroad on a trip if they wish. They can't make a present to a pretty girl if they wish. Can't spend a penny on anything else, and { } to or thought to be having a good time. All this and more like it. But a lot of things you leave out of your list of complaints.")

Now the next, please. Make the dialogue real. You have a copy? Who has? Here. You take over. And you.

("All right, said he. The soldiers, too. What defense shall we --.")

No, the next. Ja. You, Richard.

(I have a different text.)

Well, you go on. "What defense shall we make, you ask?"

("`Yes, let's walk along in the same old path,' I said. `And we shall find --'")

No, that's -- you are the "I." Hunh? You remain Socrates, Sir.

("`First -- first of all,' I said, `There must be a fight. I suppose our men will be athletes of war amassed against { }.'")

What? What? Where are we? They glued together, yes. You have sweaty

hands. So. He wouldn't have noticed it.

("`Let's walk along on the same old path,' I said. `We shall find what to say. This is what we will say.'")

Come -- turn around. They can -- cannot possibly -- those who have no copies can -- can't possibly understand. Get up and -- and speak. Yes, get up. Sure.

("Should not be surprised that these also would be most happy in its way. Yet what we had in mind when we founded this city was not how to make one class happy above the rest, but how to make the city as a whole as happy as it could be. For we believed that in such a city we were most likely to find justice, and injustice again { }. Then we might examine them and decide the matter { } searching all this time. Well, then, now if you believe we are holding the happy { }. We are not separating a few minutes, and putting them down as happy, but we take it as a whole. By and by, we will examine the { }. Suppose we were painting color on a statue, and someone came up and found fault, because we did not put the finest colors on the finest parts of the figure. For the eyes, the most beautiful part, { } dark { }. Did you think it a reasonable answer to give him, if he said, `Don't be silly. { } such a beautiful pair of eyes, that they don't look like eyes at all?' So also the other part. But look and see if, by giving all the parts their proper {treatment}, we are making the whole beautiful. Just so now, don't force them to { } happiness as the guardians, as will make them anything but guardians. We couldn't --")

That's a very good comparison. You see the point. You couldn't give the guardians crimson color -- that is, make them happy. But then they would not have, as little as the eyes, their function. Red eyes are just not good eyes, you see, but they should be blue, or brown, or black. Therefore -- or gray. Therefore, you cannot give the guardians happiness, as little as you can make the eyes crimson. That's the -- the composi- -- comparison. Go on.

("We could indeed just as well order the farmers to dress in purple and fine linen, and hang gold chains about them. And till the land to their pleasure. We might make the potters put their wheels away, and recline on couches and feed, and have drinking matches { }. And make their pots when they felt so disposed. We might make all the -- all the others live in bliss in that sort of way. And { } expect the whole city to be happy.")

You see, that's by and large American Common Sense philosophy: make the people happy, and then everything will be fine. Now that's -- Plato's, you see, reply. If you say, "Make the people happy," you can't make the city happy.

Ja. Ja. Just -- dear Mandaville, what's the -- problem?

(Well, I was just thinking, didn't the -- wouldn't the people be happy doing what their -- function is best for the city? I mean -- )

Pardon me?

(Well, wouldn't the people -- since the city would work best with everyone doing their own pottery, wouldn't the people therefore be {actually doing} their function? If you let certain people do what they wish to, won't { } to do?)

Ja. But you see, the condition of this is that they are already fit to be goldsmiths or -- or poets. I don't think anybody is when he's born. I think he's very li- -- pliable and plastic. The question is, you see: how -- what do you do with the people the first 30 years so that in the end, they believe that they have to -- to turn a lathe? My dear man. You see, your fiction is that already at birth, a man is a lathe-maker. -- Most functions today are not natural. That's your problem. I see -- and your -- your -- your optimism, you see, would mean that God creates as many distinctions, you see, or variations, as we need. Far from it.

(Well, Sir, if one person who had gotten into a field { }.)

Oh ja. We come to this, but he is aware of this problem. He is aware of this in a deeper sense than any other philosopher I know. That is, Plato says that all must get everything, a little, you see, so that you have specialists then out of the best, because you test all, you see. So you get a common education even for women and men. And -- at that time was quite unheard-of, you see. The -- he -- he knows your problem that the amateur is necessary for the professional. That's really what it -- what you mean -- are driving at, if I understand you right, you see. You have to have a greater supply, a greater selection. Isn't that what your question is?

(Well, partially. But also it's { } for a man who is a potter then { } decides he doesn't want to be a potter. He really wants to be a farmer.)

No. That's so gruesome. That's why I -- I am -- think today The Republic is a very dangerous book. You see, I'm ver- -- have very mixed feelings about reading this book with you, you see. You can abuse it like the Bolsheviks. It's a Bolshevik book as much as it is a book of wisdom. Just what you stress. -- It's dynamite. Plato's Republic is -- is not a tame book, is nothing -- you think it is something that -- that's just a good book, or a Great Book, as Mr. Hutchins cared to call them. It -- it is to this day, you see, the -- a -- a tempting book. You can

totally abuse it. Ja?

Let's have a break here. Five minutes.

[tape interruption]

Shall we -- gentlemen, I have been asked a very pertinent question: Did Plato approve of Socrates' death in the sense that he would have said, "I want to die the same death"? Now I think this question can be answered very frankly, gentlemen. If any event, any tragedy in -- in history is rightly understood, understanding means it must not be repeated. There is a great sentence of George Santayana, "Those who remember the past need not repeat it." Perhaps you take this down. And therefore, the fact that Socrates died implies that this must not be repeated, just because it has happened. That is the idea of making -- of making death pro- -- fruitful. If you say, "It doesn't matter to slay the righteous of the Lord," then you will repeat the Crucifixion. And therefore Christ then has died in vain. And it happens in every generation that Christ has died in vain. But He must not. Now -- no, no, I'm in the midst of an argument, Sir.

How can you interrupt such a statement? Really? How can you throw me off balance in this manner?

The -- simple thing about the -- The Republic is, gentlemen, that Plato writes in answer to the death of Socrates this book. What is the best city? The best city is that city in which Socrates would not have had to drink poison. That's the whole story. For this the book was written. That's your answer. That's all we know, because we have -- I haven't spoken to Plato, you see. He's not a relative of mine.

So now, your question.

(A little while ago, several lectures ago, Sir, you mentioned that there was no validity in learning from the past { }. And wouldn't this statement by Santayana seem to say that we must learn from the mistakes of others?)

Well, it is only a minority that learns, gentlemen. The un- -- liberal arts college is the place in the nation in which this is attempted. Since you don't do it, I'm sure that the liberal arts college will disappear as a functional thing in this country. It is already disappearing. And your question proves that you are not so sure that you learn here not to repeat the past. You of course make all the same mistakes. That's perfectly true, because you are silly. But the question of education is an attempt to make people -- remember the past, lest it has to be repeated. That's the whole sto- -- why we read this, my dear man, so that you

will not kill either Socrates nor crucify the Lord. But of course, it happens all the time that this is -- this is forgotten. You may rightly say that the attempt is very weak, has very little prospects. But it has to be undertaken, you see. It has to be undertaken. If I see how many of you -- few of you brought this book to class, and that not one of you has read the fourth book in advance, before coming to this class, I certainly have every intent to give up and to say, it's all silly, it is perfectly meaningless. You don't deserve to be educated, and you certainly will repeat all the mistakes of the past. I'm sure you will. But that doesn't mean that somebody has to make the desperate attempt to prevent it.

So, please.

I mean, the only stumbling block, my dear man, you see, to the validity of Mr. Santayana's { } is you. The student at Dartmouth College. Nobody else. You are the great handicap -- against which this country is fighting: the students of the liberal arts colleges. These not -- do-nothings, do-nothings. Here.

("Don't preach to us like that.")

Very good.

("For if we obey you, farmer will not be farmer. And potter will not be potter. No other class of those which make the city will have its proper {force}. The { } are really no great matter. The cobblers who are {bogglers} may work badly and pretend to be what they are not and may go to ruin with no danger to the city. But if guardians {of the city} and laws are not what they ought -- are thought to be, { } they destroy the -- city utterly, and they alone have the opportunity to make it well-managed and happy. Then if we are making real and true guardians of the city, not marauders, and if our critics talk to the farmers and sometimes having jolly time at a dinner or a feast, not in the city at all, we must be talking of something else, not a city. Consider then, with this in our minds, whether we shall arrange that our guardians may have the greatest possible happiness, or if we shall keep in view the city as a whole and see how that should be happy. Then we must compel and persuade these assistants in all the guardians to do as I've said in order that they may be the best possible craftsmen in their own work. We must do the same with all the other craftsmen. And the whole city will increase and be managed well. We must leave each class to have the share of happiness which their nature gives to each.")

Now gentlemen, may I draw your attention to the sentence in our const- -- in the Declaration of Independence -- or is it in the Constitution, about the pursuit of happiness? It's in the Declaration, isn't it? The pursuit of happiness, gentlemen, was a compromise between the Jeffersonians, and the Washingtoni-

ans, or the Adamses. You know what the idea behind the pursuit of happiness was, the religious idea? "Pursuit of happiness" is a secular term on which Moha- -- Moslem, and Free Masons, and Rotarians, and Catholics all seem to be able to agree. Happiness is individualistic. The cobbler be happy -- just what we argued, Mandaville, at this moment. You see, everyone individually happy makes the people happy. Against this, Plato is fighting. And he says the guardians must make the city happy, not themselves.

Now what is the category, what is the aim then of the guardian for himself? He is not aiming at happiness. But what can justify his sacrifice, his austerity, his poverty, his vow? Gentlemen, that was called for the next -- 2,200 years, till 1776, with the very simple term. What would a man do, if he did what he was asked to do by his destiny, by his God, { } God's will? What would he be -- his reward? Not happiness. Something different, which today is not -- is in a -- is, so to speak, in discredit, but which is a necessary category about which Plato is talking here. And I think therefore, we have to restore it so that you see that pagan or not pagan, Christian or pre-Christian, there is a category of functioning right, which doesn't ask for per- -- private satisfaction. What is this? Wie? No, salvation. Very simple. Salvation. The guardians work out their own salvation because they make the city happy. Any doctor, you see, who -- saves his soul, because he gives the -- all his service to his patients. He's not happy, you see, but he certainly goes to Heaven.

This is not a silly thing, gentlemen, for pious old ladies. The question is: if you served within a given order, your happiness is no concern -- of no concern. Why should Mr. Eisenhower be happy? They have made him president for the United States. And I hope that he will be strong enough to be very unhappy personally. He hates to be president. But he undergoes it because he thinks that it is more important that he should be president than he should be happy. Otherwise he would not have accepted a second term.

It's very simple, gentlemen. Now what does he strive -- at? Knowingly or unknowingly, this is not happiness. You can't have a president of the United States who wants to be happy. That's silly. And I -- the only thing I can tell you, that is -- if you ever should elect a man president so that he might be happy, you have no president. You have a nightclub entertainer. Sophie Tucker.

Ja, this is very serious, gentlemen. You have in your thinking, by saying "Make the people happy," abolished this higher functional order of the universe in which we do not care. Since we want to be good physicians, or good strategists, or good generals, or good presidents, we do not care for happiness. That's taken in our stride. What do I care that I am happy, gentlemen? As long as I do my duty here to you, I -- I certainly shall not be happy, because I meet with very

much hostility. Because I tell you the truth. Who do -- who likes the truth? Nobody likes the truth. The first experience that you will make when you begin doing anything in the world is that people hate the truth. And that's a Platonic sentence, you see: they hate the truth. You can take this down, gentlemen, at the bottom of the whole problem of philosophy. People hate the truth.

People -- I have seen you, gentlemen -- you look into any family. Any outsider can know the truth about their problems. You cannot tell them. Most tragedies, most conflicts in any human family--look into your own--is that the people won't -- do not wish to know the truth.

I had a friend -- a lady, an Italian lady who was married to a lawyer in Germany. He was the greatest gambler in the city. Everybody knew it. She didn't. Nobody told her. It was impossible to tell the truth, because it would have broken up the -- the -- he went out and she didn't know that he was gambling away their fortune. One day he shot himself. And then she knew that he was a gambler. That was all. That's a very simple story. By and large, that's the truth about most people. You don't know -- want to know your own truth. And certainly you don't want anybody else to tell you.

So gentlemen, since truth is hated, these guardians are very unpopular, and they will have to undergo all kind of hostility, of course. And they won't be happy.

I read an article on the modern executive. And they said it boils all down to the fact that these people have sleepless nights not because of money, or not because of production, and not because of taxes, and not because of war, but because they have to deal with human nature, and they have to meet with so much hostility, you see, and jealousy, and begrudging, and -- and that's their problem. They lie sleepless, because they don't know how to tell the vice president what to do. Without losing his -- losing him perhaps, you see, to another firm. They don't know how to do it. The truth is not liked.

You live in this optimistic climate, gentlemen, since you do -- not only de- -- deal with silly truths, with platitudes, that you think everybody wants to know the truth. Gentlemen, the whole problem of the truth is that it is not wanted. Who discusses any serious issue to -- at this moment about this government? They're all propaganda speeches, or on things that are on the -- on the -- on the -- on the -- on the outskirts. I told you, the real problem is oil. There's too much oil in America.

Now, what did I say, gentlemen? Salvation is a necessary concept of Plato's philosophy. The righteous man -- or the wise man, or the just man is a

man who cares more for justice than his own happiness. Therefore, the term "salvation" is a necessary term. You cannot replace it by anything else. And since 1776, gentlemen, the compromise was reached: translate it into secular terms, call it happiness. The United States of America have been a moral power in the world. It will be a moral power, gentlemen, as long as behind the term "happiness" there -- you can still hear in your own heart, when you read this term, the true meaning, salvation. If you read the word "pursuit of happiness" with this glorious background of the churches of America, that it meant "salvation" originally, you see, you will interpret "happiness" in no obscene terms, you see. It will not be Mr. {Jaeger's}, or some -- somebody like that. But it will be salvation, you see. If you say, "I'm happy in the fulfillment of my duty, although it leads -- leads me to the -- to the scaffold, to execution," I'll shake your hand and say, "Well, what do you mean by happiness is salvation. We all agree." Don't you understand? It's -- all -- the question is: what happiness? And in American English, which is different from British English, as you know, the greatest distinction between English English and American English is in the use of the word "happiness." For an American, happiness is inclusive of salvation. But in England, that isn't so. Happiness is just happiness, you see, on the secular side, and there you would have to speak of salvation, you see. Here, you can gloss it over, because in this democracy, we try always to use the lowest common denominator. Happiness is the lowest common denominator of all the religious denominations, you see. That's the whole story.

So once you begin to open your eyes, gentlemen, to American sla- -- to language, it is full of miracles, because a -- the religious content is hidden behind a kind of shorthand. And if you wake up to your own city of Athens, to the United States of America, it is a much better city than it appears on the surface. I assure you. And it is your privilege to read into "happiness" the meaning of the guardians, salvation; or to steep down to the night-entertainer levels of Hollywood, who misinterpret it, you see, as beating the income tax.

This is, I think, alone worth this page, gentlemen, that he is struggling -- what is he struggling for? -- with -- the ambiguity of the word "happiness." And he says, "The city is happy"; you are not happy, you see.

Now we have enlarged this in Christianity. The Cross, instead of Socrates, means that we distinguish between the salvation. Jesus worked out His own salvation by going to the Cross, didn't He? You see? And in all practical terms, that's not happiness. So He -- He made the distinction very sharp, you see: Forgo happiness and you will be saved. Can you see this?

Functional, gentlemen, fulfillment of a man's life has nothing to do with happiness. You can be childless, and you can be blind, and Helen Keller is -- has

worked out her own salvation. But it is very terrible to talk today, because you people have abolished this wonderful background of the -- your own language. You -- you try to only let this -- the -- the flatness, the soundlessness, the echolessness, the -- the lack of sonorousness of the word "happiness" stand. And then it is impossible. Then one has to contradict it. I have no objection against the wording of the Constitu- -- of the Declaration of Independence. But you must know that happiness has two degrees of depth. The happiness of the city -- or of man, of mankind is one thing. And your private citi- -- happiness, that's of no concern to anybody. And shouldn't be your own concern, because the safest way of ending in a lunatic asylum is to try to be happy. Ja?

(Then if salvation is to be preferred to happiness, why { } towards happiness on the city? Why { } salvation?)

Well, the city, after all, is an instrument, an institution, is it not? And therefore, the people in the city, if the whole city is, as we call it "just," you see, then they will fulfill themselves, you see. They will fulfill their own nature. So I would say your private happiness, my dear man, is a by-product, you see. But if nobody gives to the whole what the whole needs, you see, if you aim at happiness directly, you can't get it. He who wants to save his soul, you see, to win -- earn his soul, must lose it. Can you -- this is a simple thing. It's a detour, you may say, but without squinting. You mustn't say, "Oh," you see, like the alms giver, you see, "It will stand me in good stead. You see, if I give now the poor, they will make me a deacon of the church." I don't think that's a way of using your alms.

We had a man in our church who bought himself in this way -- in the -- into our church, by making a high -- great contribution to the poor, which we didn't have. And -- the poor, I mean. And -- and he was made deacon, and I nearly left the church in disgust, you see. That's the wrong way, you see. You must not consider the -- the -- the consequences.

(Well, if you had walked out, wouldn't that have made it even worse { }?)

But I didn't. Now, go on. After all, I'm still a member of this church, unfortunately. So, go on. You will never know, you see. This is the question that can never be answered. Go on.

("`Indeed,' he said, `I think you are right.')

("Very well, there is something else -- there is something else akin to this. And I wonder if you will think it reasonable, too.")

("What is it exactly?")

("Consider whether it will ruin the other craftsmen also, and make them bad.")

("Well, what is it?")

("Wealth and poverty.")

("In what way?")

("In this way. Let a potter grow wealthy. Do you think he will care about his craft?")

("`{ },' said he.")

("Then he will become idle and careless, more than before.")

("Much more.")

("He becomes a worse potter then.")

("`Yes indeed,' he said. `Much worse.'")

("Yet again, if he is too poor to provide himself the tools or anything else needed for his trade, his goods will be worse, and he will not be able to teach his sons and apprentices so well, and they will be worse craftsmen.")

("Of course.")

("Then both poverty and wealth make the craftsmen worse, and the things they make as well.")

("So it seems.")

("Then we have found other things which the guardians must guard against. They must prevent, by all means, from creeping unnoticed into the city.")

("What are these?")

("Wealth and poverty, too. Because wealth creates luxury, and idleness, and faction. And poverty adds meanness and bad work to the faction.")

("Certainly, but consider, Socrates, our city will be able to make more without having wealth, especially if we force the fight against the great city which has wealth.")

("It is rather difficult to fight against one, but against two -- but against two such, it is clearly easier.")

("How can that be?")

("First of all, if there must be a fight, I suppose our men will

be athletes of war matched against men of wealth.")

("Yes. Yes.")

("Very well.")

Well, you should say "yes" to that.

("Yes to that.")

To that point. Ja. Ja?

("Very well, Adeimantus. One boxer is well trained as he can be against two non-boxers wealthy and fat, don't you think he would have an easy battle?")

Israel against Egypt, yes. Go on.

("Perhaps not. If they came on both at once.")

("Not even -- not even if he could retreat and wait {till} the first man up, and then turn back and strike him, and did it again and again, in the stifling heat of the sun. Could not such a boxer beat a lot of men like that?")

("I should say so. That would hardly surprise me.")

("But don't you think that rich men have more knowledge and experience of boxing than they have in the art of war?")

("I do.")

("And it would be easy for our athletes, in all likelihood to fight twice or three times their own number.")

("I will grant you that, for I think you are right.")

("Then again, what if they send an embassy to one of the two cities and tell them the truth, saying, `We use neither gold nor silver, and that is for- -- and that is forbidden for us, but not for you -- then join us in this war and get what the others have.' Do you think anyone hearing this would choose to fight against the pack of hard, lean dogs, and not be joining the dogs and tackle fat and tender sheep?")

("No, I do not. But if the wealth of the others be collected into one city, does not that bring danger to the one which is not wealthy?")

("Oh, blissful ignorance! Do you think any so-called city is

worthy of the name except the one which we were constructing?")

("Why not?")

("We must have a bigger appellation for the others, for each one of these cities -- for each one of these greater cities is, as they say in the game, `Cities, cities everywhere, but city {none for me}.' Each of the last two cities, one of them poor and one of them rich, enemies to each other, in each of these two there are very many smaller. We treat them -- if you treat with them as one, you will lose everything. If you treat with them as many, and offer to give the wealth and power, even also the people themselves, one or more groups of men {from} the other group, you will always have many allies and few enemies. As long as your city is managed with soberness, as was laid down just now, it will be very great. I do not mean in fame, but in real truth very great, even if it has no more than a thousand men to fight for it. For a great city, one in this sense, you will not easily find, either among the Hellenes, or among the barbarians, but many you will find which are thought to be as great, and many times greater than this. Don't you agree?")

("Yes I do.")

("Then here we might find { } for our rulers. You decide how large our cities should be, and how much land they ought to enclose for a city of that size, letting the rest go.")

Let's stop here. Bring it again, and I hope, a few more. We'll bring copies of this.