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W. G. Runciman is a fellow of Trinity College, University of Cambridge. His books include The Social Animal and The Theory of Cultural and Social Selection.

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"Why have Plato's Republic, Hobbes's Leviathan, and Marx's Communist Manifesto retained their enduring appeal, despite their often wildly implausible assumptions about human motivation and political action? No one is more qualified to answer this question than Britain's most eminent sociologist cum philosopher and historian, Garry Runciman.Great Books, Bad Arguments is not only lucid, but like the best detective fiction, keeps the reader guessing until the very end."--Gareth Stedman Jones, King's College, University of Cambridge

"Spirited and provocative."--Ian Shapiro, Yale University

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"Why have Plato's Republic, Hobbes's Leviathan, and Marx's Communist Manifesto retained their enduring appeal, despite their often wildly implausible assumptions about human motivation and political action? No one is more qualified to answer this question than Britain's most eminent sociologist cum philosopher and historian, Garry Runciman.Great Books, Bad Arguments is not only lucid, but like the best detective fiction, keeps the reader guessing until the very end."--Gareth Stedman Jones, King's College, University of Cambridge

"Spirited and provocative."--Ian Shapiro, Yale University

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GREAT BOOKS, Bad Arguments

PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS

Contents

Preface........................................vii1. Introduction................................12. Republic....................................173. Leviathan...................................544. The Communist Manifesto.....................875. Conclusion..................................111

Chapter One

1

Some years ago, I had a conversation with the philosopher Myles Burnyeat in which I asked him how a book like Plato's Republic can continue to be admired as it is although so many of the arguments on which it rests are such bad ones. His answer was that I was missing the point: Plato's influence is due to his deliberately not pretending to offer definitive solutions to the questions of enduring interest about which he wishes his readers to reflect. As he subsequently put it in a "Master-Mind" lecture on Plato given at the British Academy, the one thing Plato's commentators ought not to do is pass judgement on his writings as if they were schoolroom exercises ("Plato, you get four out of ten. Try to do better next time"). But why not? Republic contains a mixture—some might say a farrago—of arguments of different and often puzzling kinds. But if Plato is serious, which he surely is, he wants to persuade his readers that certain propositions in which he firmly believes are true. For the purpose, he deploys a wide range of analogies, similes, metaphors, and myths. But however much more readable these make the book, they have failed in their purpose if the propositions they purport to endorse are at best implausible and at worst demonstrably false.

One possible rejoinder is to insist, with Burnyeat, that all philosophers lend themselves to a diversity of conflicting interpretations and that this is exactly what makes Plato so good to think with. But that won't quite do. Republic is not only a work of philosophy. Plato does expound in it metaphysical and epistemological doctrines which, despite all the criticisms to which they have been subjected from Aristotle onwards, are widely regarded as having set much of the agenda for the subsequent practice of philosophy in the European tradition. But it is also a work of sociology. The conclusions to which it invites assent are critically dependent on a set of related propositions about social institutions—that is, about how human beings do, or might, or would behave towards one another under specified historical and environmental conditions. Admittedly, there is no way of conclusively testing speculations about possible states of societies of different kinds until those conditions are realized. But some such speculations are much more solidly grounded than others in what there is good reason to believe to be generally true about how societies function and evolve. To the extent that Republic is a work of sociology as well as philosophy, it cannot be exempted from being assessed as such.

It was with that thought in mind that I took down from my shelves the battered copy in which I had first encountered Republic as a schoolboy. There I rediscovered the indignant marginal scribbles in which I had protested at arguments which had struck me as not merely feeble but silly, like the perhaps unserious claim that dogs who distinguish friends from foes are philosophers too (376a) and the apparently serious calculation that a tyrant is 729 times more wretched (anairoteros) than a philosopher (587e). I found the famous simile of the Cave in book 7, in which the philosopher emerges from a world of shadows into the sunlight, as arresting as ever but the Theory of Forms no more persuasive than before. I was struck all over again by the weakness of Plato's analogy between the "just" (as dikaios is conventionally translated) society (polis) and the "just" personality (psyche) and confirmed in my view by what I found in the secondary literature in which it has since then been analyzed in exhaustive detail. I felt as resistant as ever to Plato's determination to banish poetry and the visual arts from his ideal society. I found his sociology inept, his psychology rudimentary, and his eugenics ridiculous. By the end of book 9, I wondered whether he himself thought his ideal society anything more than an exercise in fantasy, and by the end of book 10, where he falls back for a second time on the prospect of reward in the life to come as the reason for behaving justly in this one (613a; cf. 498c), I wondered how he could fail to realize that he was—to use a present-day metaphor— scoring a spectacular own goal.

At that point, however, I was reminded of what Hobbes says about Republic in chapter 31 of Leviathan, where he describes himself as being "at the point of believing this my labour, as uselesse, as the Commonwealth of Plato" (p. 254). As with Republic, I had not reopened my copy of Leviathan for over half a century. I remembered it, as I suspect is true of most of its student readers, principally for Hobbes's insistence on the need for power to be concentrated exclusively in the hands of a single Sovereign if a society is not to fall prey to the seditious designs of misguided and unruly subjects. But I was now struck by how Hobbes, after citing Republic, voices the hope that "one time or another" his book may fall into the hands of a Sovereign who might "by the exercise of entire Sovereignty, in protecting the Publique teaching of it, convert this Truth of Speculation into the Utility of Practice," just as Plato affirms the hope that even though his ideal society may be, for the moment, a "paradigm laid in heaven" (592b), it might somewhere be realized by someone with the eyes to see it and the power to implement it. Both Plato and Hobbes are not only passionately concerned to find a way for human societies to avoid destructive internal conflict but passionately convinced that the right combination of social practices, roles, and institutions could make it possible. Like Republic, Leviathan contains a multitude of arguments on a wide range of topics of continuing philosophical interest. But, like Republic, it is also a work of sociology which must in the same way be assessed as such. Nobody could plausibly charge Hobbes with simple-mindedness. But many of his commentators have charged him with defending his views about the nature and exercise of power with arguments which are far from being as good as they need to be if his conclusions are to carry conviction. Hobbes's sociology is neither as categorically individualist nor as crudely authoritarian as it has sometimes been represented as being. But the proposition that "whatsoever" a Sovereign once instituted does, "it can be no injury to any of his subjects" (p. 124) is (to put it mildly) not easy to uphold; and no commentator has succeeded in extricating Hobbes from the criticism that, as Bertrand Russell put it in 1946, although he is "the first really modern writer on political theory," he "does not realize the importance of the clash between different classes." He acknowledges the universal desire for assurance of the "power and means to live well" which can never be satisfied "without the acquisition of more" (p. 70). He recognizes that labour is "a commodity exchangeable for benefit" (p. 171). He knows that Sovereigns...