The Republic
necessity. Even if we cannot expect the mass of mankind to become
disinterested, at any rate we observe in them a power of organization
which fifty years ago would never have been suspected. The same forces
which have revolutionized the political system of Europe, may effect a
similar change in the social and industrial relations of mankind. And
if we suppose the influence of some good as well as neutral motives
working in the community, there will be no absurdity in expecting that
the mass of mankind having power, and becoming enlightened about the
higher possibilities of human life, when they learn how much more is
attainable for all than is at present the possession of a favoured few,
may pursue the common interest with an intelligence and persistency
which mankind have hitherto never seen.
Now that the world has once been set in motion, and is no longer held
fast under the tyranny of custom and ignorance; now that criticism has
pierced the veil of tradition and the past no longer overpowers the
present,—the progress of civilization may be expected to be far greater
and swifter than heretofore. Even at our present rate of speed the
point at which we may arrive in two or three generations is beyond the
power of imagination to foresee. There are forces in the world which
work, not in an arithmetical, but in a geometrical ratio of increase.
Education, to use the expression of Plato, moves like a wheel with an
ever-multiplying rapidity. Nor can we say how great may be its
influence, when it becomes universal,—when it has been inherited by
many generations,—when it is freed from the trammels of superstition
and rightly adapted to the wants and capacities of different classes of
men and women. Neither do we know how much more the co-operation of
minds or of hands may be capable of accomplishing, whether in labour or
in study. The resources of the natural sciences are not half-developed
as yet; the soil of the earth, instead of growing more barren, may
become many times more fertile than hitherto; the uses of machinery far
greater, and also more minute than at present. New secrets of
physiology may be revealed, deeply affecting human nature in its
innermost recesses. The standard of health may be raised and the lives
of men prolonged by sanitary and medical knowledge. There may be peace,
there may be leisure, there may be innocent refreshments of many kinds.
The ever-increasing power of locomotion may join the extremes of earth.
There may be mysterious workings of the human mind, such as occur only
at great crises of history. The East and the West may meet together,
and all nations may contribute their thoughts and their experience to
the common stock of humanity. Many other elements enter into a
speculation of this kind. But it is better to make an end of them. For
such reflections appear to the majority far-fetched, and to men of
science, commonplace.
(b) Neither to the mind of Plato nor of Aristotle did the doctrine of
community of property present at all the same difficulty, or appear to
be the same violation of the common Hellenic sentiment, as the
community of wives and children. This paradox he prefaces by another
proposal, that the occupations of men and women shall be the same, and
that to this end they shall have a common training and education. Male
and female animals have the same pursuits—why not also the two sexes of
man?
But have we not here fallen into a contradiction? for we were saying
that different natures should have different pursuits. How then can men
and women have the same? And is not the proposal inconsistent with our
notion of the division of labour?—These objections are no sooner raised
than answered; for, according to Plato, there is no organic difference
between men and women, but only the accidental one that men beget and
women bear children. Following the analogy of the other animals, he
contends that all natural gifts are scattered about indifferently among
both sexes, though there may be a superiority of degree on the part of
the men. The objection on the score of decency to their taking part in
the same gymnastic exercises, is met by Plato’s assertion that the
existing feeling is a matter of habit.
That Plato should have emancipated himself from the ideas of his own
country and from the example of the East, shows a wonderful
independence of mind. He is conscious that women are half the human
race, in some respects the more important half (Laws); and for the sake
both of men and women he desires to raise the woman to a higher level
of existence. He brings, not sentiment, but philosophy to bear upon a
question which both in ancient and modern times has been chiefly
regarded in the light of custom or feeling. The Greeks had noble
conceptions of womanhood in the goddesses Athene and Artemis, and in
the heroines Antigone and Andromache. But these ideals had no
counterpart in actual life. The Athenian woman was in no way the equal
of her husband; she was not the entertainer of his guests or the
mistress of his house, but only his housekeeper and the mother of his
children. She took no part in military or political matters; nor is
there any instance in the later ages of Greece of a woman becoming
famous in literature. ‘Hers is the greatest glory who has the least
renown among men,’ is the historian’s conception of feminine
excellence. A very different ideal of womanhood is held up by Plato to
the world; she is to be the companion of the man, and to share with him
in the toils of war and in the cares of government. She is to be
similarly trained both in bodily and mental exercises. She is to lose
as far as possible the incidents of maternity and the characteristics
of the female sex.
The modern antagonist of the equality of the sexes would argue that the
differences between men and women are not confined to the single point
urged by Plato; that sensibility, gentleness, grace, are the qualities
of women, while energy, strength, higher intelligence, are to be looked
for in men. And the criticism is just: the differences affect the whole
nature, and are not, as Plato supposes, confined to a single point. But
neither can we say how far these differences are due to education and
the opinions of mankind, or physically inherited from the habits and
opinions of former generations. Women have been always taught, not
exactly that they are slaves, but that they are in an inferior
position, which is also supposed to have compensating advantages; and
to this position they have conformed. It is also true that the physical
form may easily change in the course of generations through the mode of
life; and the weakness or delicacy, which was once a matter of opinion,
may become a physical fact. The characteristics of sex vary greatly in
different countries and ranks of society, and at different ages in the
same individuals. Plato may have been right in denying that there was
any ultimate difference in the sexes of man other than that which
exists in animals, because all other differences may be conceived to
disappear in other states of society, or under different circumstances
of life and training.
The first wave having been passed, we proceed to the second—community
of wives and children. ‘Is it possible? Is it desirable?’ For as
Glaucon intimates, and as we far more strongly insist, ‘Great doubts
may be entertained about both these points.’ Any free discussion of the
question is impossible, and mankind are perhaps right in not allowing
the ultimate bases of social life to be examined. Few of us can safely
enquire into the things which nature hides, any more than we can
dissect our own bodies. Still, the manner in which Plato arrived at his
conclusions should be considered. For here, as Mr. Grote has remarked,
is a wonderful thing, that one of the wisest and best of men should
have entertained ideas of morality which are wholly at variance with
our own. And if we would do Plato justice, we must examine carefully
the character of his proposals. First, we may observe that the
relations of the sexes supposed by him are the reverse of licentious:
he seems rather to aim at an impossible strictness. Secondly, he
conceives the family to be the natural enemy of the state; and he
entertains the serious hope that an universal brotherhood may take the
place of private interests—an aspiration which, although not justified
by experience, has possessed many noble minds. On the other hand, there
is no sentiment or imagination in the connections which men and women
are supposed by him to form; human beings return to the level of the
animals, neither exalting to heaven, nor yet abusing the natural
instincts. All that world of poetry and fancy which the passion of love
has called forth in modern literature and romance would have been
banished by Plato. The arrangements of marriage in the Republic are
directed to one object—the improvement of the race. In successive
generations a great development both of bodily and mental qualities
might be possible. The analogy of animals tends to show that mankind
can within certain limits receive a change of nature. And as in animals
we should commonly choose the best for breeding, and destroy the
others, so there must be a selection made of the human beings whose
lives are worthy to be preserved.
We start back horrified from this Platonic ideal, in the belief, first,
that the higher feelings of humanity are far too strong to be crushed
out; secondly, that if the plan could be carried into execution we
should be poorly recompensed by improvements in the breed for the loss
of the best things in life. The greatest regard for the weakest and
meanest of human beings—the infant, the criminal, the insane, the
idiot, truly seems to us one of the noblest results of Christianity. We
have learned, though as yet imperfectly, that the individual man has an
endless value in the sight of God, and that we honour Him when we
honour the darkened and disfigured image of Him (Laws). This is the
lesson which Christ taught in a parable when He said, ‘Their angels do
always behold the face of My Father which is in heaven.’ Such lessons
are only partially realized in any age; they were foreign to the age of
Plato, as they have very different degrees of strength in different
countries or ages of the Christian world. To the Greek the family was a
religious and customary institution binding the members together by a
tie inferior in strength to that of friendship, and having a less
solemn and sacred sound than that of country. The relationship which
existed on the lower level of custom, Plato imagined that he was
raising to the higher level of nature and reason; while from the modern
and Christian point of view we regard him as sanctioning murder and
destroying the first principles of morality.
The great error in these and similar speculations is that the
difference between man and the animals is forgotten in them. The human
being is regarded with the eye of a dog- or bird-fancier, or at best of
a slave-owner; the higher or human qualities are left out. The breeder
of animals aims chiefly at size or speed or strength; in a few cases at
courage or temper; most often the fitness of the animal for food is the
great desideratum. But mankind are not bred to be eaten, nor yet for
their superiority in fighting or in running or in drawing carts.
Neither does the improvement of the human race consist merely in the
increase of the bones and flesh, but in the growth and enlightenment of
the mind. Hence there must be ‘a marriage of true minds’ as well as of
bodies, of imagination and reason as well as of lusts and instincts.
Men and women without feeling or imagination are justly called brutes;
yet Plato takes away these qualities and puts nothing in their place,