Do We Know What Is Good for Us? Do Our Leaders? (What Plato Thought)

“For no light matter is at stake, nothing less than the rule of human life.”—Socrates in Plato’s Republic, translated by Benjamin Jowett

John and I were having smash burgers and fish and chips with a friend at the Outpost when our conversation turned to the problems of a society in which a few people hold so much of the wealth. We talked about greed.

I said I thought part of our trouble was that we do not understand ourselves as human beings. We misunderstand what actually helps us flourish.

Would we be better off with another $100,000 or good friends? I asked. We have the research, I said. It didn't seem that my question had much impact, so allow me to finish my thoughts here.

Economist Nattavudh Powdthavee studied British survey data and estimated that increased involvement with friends, relatives, and neighbors could be worth as much, in life satisfaction, as an additional £85,000 in annual income (over $113 thousand US dollars)!

The Harvard Study of Adult Development offers a longer view. Following people across decades, researchers found that satisfaction with relationships in middle age strongly predicted happiness and health later in life. Having people we can count on matters considerably.

Of course, money matters too. Anyone struggling to afford groceries, housing, or medical care knows that. We can acknowledge money’s value, especially if we are struggling to get the basic needs in life, while questioning whether it deserves to dominate our understanding of success.

This morning, my granddaughter was heading into a college class, and I had sent her a short Instagram video about Plato. Sending ancient philosophy through Instagram may be one of the more peculiar privileges of being a grandmother.

Something in the video caught my attention. Its speaker suggested that people who pursue power at everyone else’s expense may have misunderstood their own wellbeing. They think they know how to get the most out of life. Perhaps they have misunderstood what a human being needs from life.

That sounded remarkably close to our dinner conversation. It also sounded like a question worth carrying into an election too as we think about who we want to lead us, to represent us.

Plato had reasons to worry about leadership. He lived through Athens’s defeat in war, violent political upheaval, and the drinking of hemlock by his teacher, Socrates. He had witnessed failures under different kinds of government. Those experiences form an important background to his examination of how people should live and who should be trusted with power.

In The Republic, written in fourth-century BCE Greece, Plato confronts a disturbing possibility: perhaps the people who cheat and dominate are right. Perhaps justice is something the powerful impose on everyone else while helping themselves. If injustice brings wealth, pleasure, and authority—and you escape the consequences—why be just?

His characters challenge Socrates to explain why justice benefits the person who practices it. They want more than a sermon about rewards for good behavior. Imagine someone who behaves unjustly but enjoys an excellent reputation and life. Compare that person with someone who acts justly but is misunderstood and mistreated. Why choose the just life?

This helps explain why people have argued about The Republic for roughly 2,400 years. It connects our private pursuit of a good life with public questions about education, truth, justice, and government.

What should children learn to admire? What qualifies someone to lead? Its reach makes it a foundational work of Western philosophy, even as readers challenge its answers.

We need not care about Plato simply because he is famous. We have reason to care because his central problem keeps arriving at our dinner tables and on our ballots: How do we persuade people to behave decently if they believe decency is for losers?

Calling someone immoral may accomplish little if that person regards ruthlessness as a strength. Concern for other people may not move someone who cares chiefly about himself.

Plato’s approach is to examine that person’s understanding of himself. Through Socrates, he argues that acquiring more power, more money, more pleasure does not settle whether we are living better. We must consider what our conduct does to our inner lives.

He describes different sources of motivation within us: appetite, which seeks pleasure and possessions; spirit, which seeks honor and recognition; and reason, which seeks understanding. Living well requires their proper ordering, with wise judgment guiding the whole. Our desires have a place, but they are poorly equipped to govern everything.

His tyrant illustrates the danger. This person commands others while being increasingly ruled by his own cravings and fears. He has power, but little inner freedom. Plato asks whether such a person has gained what makes a human life good.

As we approach an election, we can bring that question to our choices without pretending Plato would endorse our candidates. His own political proposals concentrated authority and restricted freedoms many of us cherish. We can question his answers while taking his challenge seriously.

What do we hope our leaders will deliver? Material security belongs on the list. So do fair treatment, trustworthy institutions, and the freedom to disagree without fear. When we say a candidate serves our interests, how fully have we considered those interests?

We can examine how candidates exercise the authority they already possess. Can they accept correction and acknowledge limits? Do they take responsibility? We can also examine ourselves. Am I excusing conduct in someone I support that I would condemn in an opponent? How much am I enjoying the promise that my side will humiliate the other?

Helping someone else reconsider who they support requires care. “What do you hope will get better?” offers a more promising beginning than “How could you support that person?”

We can listen for the hope, then examine whether the proposed means will serve it—and what those means will cost others. It's a continuing education we can offer each other.

I include myself among those who need continuing education.

Here are three experiments we might try.

1. Give friendship a place in the budget. Set aside an hour this week for a call, walk, or meal with someone we value. Offer our attention without trying to impress or accomplish anything. Afterward, notice what the time gave us. What might happen if we protected that investment as carefully as our money? We might even bounce around some big questions and thoughts. What did we learn together?

   
   

2. Practice governing one impulse. When we want to interrupt, retaliate, show off, or make an unnecessary purchase, pause. Ask, “What am I hoping this will give me, and what might it cost?” Choose deliberately, then examine the result. The aim is to strengthen our ability to decide what deserves our time, energy, and attention.

   
   

3. Examine one promise of a better life. Choose a campaign promise, advertisement, or ambition of our own. Ask what human good it offers, what evidence supports it, and who might bear its costs. Ask yourself if the promise succeeds, will it help us live well together?

How might examining, wising up around, what will truly lead to the good life help us choose our behavior...including who we vote for?