The Tyrannical Character (as desribed as long ago as the 5th Century by Plato).

The Republic

A Synopsis Of Plato’s The Republic

Plato's The Republic is widely acknowledged as the cornerstone of Western philosophy. Presented in the form of a dialogue between Socrates and three different interlocutors, it is an inquiry into the notion of a perfect community and the ideal individual within it. During the conversation other questions are raised: what is goodness; what is reality; what is knowledge? The Republic also addresses the purpose of education and the role of both women and men as 'guardians' of the people. With remarkable lucidity and deft use of allegory, Plato arrives at a depiction of a state bound by harmony and ruled by 'philosopher kings.' 

PART IX, BOOK VIII, IMPERFECT SOCIETIES. 

The Tyrannical Character 

Its essential similarity to the criminal 

... ... “There do indeed.”

“In this struggle don’t the people normally put forward a single popular leader, whom they nurse to greatness?”

“Yes, as a rule.”

“Then it should be clear,” I said, “that this leadership is the root from which tyranny invariably springs.”

“Perfectly clear.”

“Then how does the popular leader start to turn into a tyrant? Isn’t it, clearly, when he starts doing what we hear about in the story about the shrine of Zeus Lykaeus in Arcadia?”

“What is the story?”

“That the man who tastes a single piece of human flesh, mixed in with the rest of the sacrifice, is fated to become a wolf. Surely you’ve heard the tale?”

“Yes, I have.”

“The same happens with the popular leader. The mob will do anything he tells them, and the temptation to shed a brother’s blood is too strong. He brings the usual unjust charges against him, takes him to court and murders him, thus destroying a human life, and getting an unholy taste of the blood of his fellows. Exiles, executions, hints of cancellation of debts and redistribution of land follow, till their instigator is inevitably fatally bound either to be destroyed by his enemies, or to change from man to wolf.”

“That is an inevitable necessity.”

“It is he who leads the class war against the owners of property.”

“It is.”

“And if he’s exiled, and then returns in spite of his enemies, he returns a finished tyrant.”

“Obviously.” ... ...

... ... ... “Meanwhile there’s clearly no question of our champion ‘measuring his towering strength in the dust’; he overthrows all opposition and grasps the reins of state, and stands, no longer champion, but the complete tyrant.”

“That’s the inevitable conclusion,” he agreed.

“Then shall we describe the happy conditions of this man, and of the state in which a creature like him is bred?”

“Yes, please, let us.” 

“In his early days he has a smile and a kind word for everyone; he says he’s no tyrant, makes large promises, public and private, frees debtors, distributes land to the people and to his own followers, and puts on a generally mild and kindly air.”

“He has to.”

“But I think we shall find that when he has disposed of his foreign enemies by treaty or destruction, and he has no more to fear from them, he will in the first place continue to stir up war in order that the people may continue to need a leader.”

“Very likely.”

“And the high level of war taxation will also enable him to reduce them to poverty and force them to attend to earning their daily bread rather than to plotting against him.”

“Clearly.”

“Finally if he suspects anyone of having ideas of freedom and not submitting to his rule, he can find an excuse to get rid of them by handing them over to the enemy. For all these reasons a tyrant must always be provoking war.”

“Yes, he must.”

“But all this lays him open to unpopularity.”

“Inevitably.”

“So won’t some of the bolder characters among those who helped him to power, and now hold positions of influence, begin to speak freely to him and each other, and blame him for what is happening?”

“Very probably.”

“Then if he is to retain power, he must root them out, all of them, till there’s not one man of consequence left, whether friend or foe.”

“That’s obvious.”

“So he must keep a sharp eye out for men of courage or vision or intelligence or wealth, for, whether he likes it or not, it is his happy fate to be their constant enemy and to intrigue until he has purged them from the state.”

“A fine kind of purge,” he remarked.

“Yes,” I returned, “and the reverse of a purge in the medical sense. For the doctor removes the poison and leaves the healthy elements in the body, while the tyrant does the opposite.”

“Yes it seems inevitable, if he’s to remain in power.”

“He is compelled to make the happy choice,” I said, “between a life with companions most of whom are worthless and all of whom hate him, and an inevitable death.”

“That is his fate.”

... ... .... 

... “But we are digressing,” I said. “We must go back to what we were saying about our tyrant’s ... . How is he going to maintain the changing ranks of this splendid and motley gang?”

“Obviously he’ll use any temple treasures there are, so long as they last, and the property of his victims. That will enable him to tax the people less.”

“And when these sources fail?”

“Then he and his gang, boy-friends and girl-friends, will live on his parents’ estate.” 

“I see,” I said. “You mean that the people who have bred him will have to maintain him and his crew.” 

“They will have no option.” 

“No option,” I said. “But what if they get annoyed and say that it’s not right for a father to keep his son when he’s grown up - it’s the son who should keep the father: and that they never intended, when they bred him and set him up, that when he grew great they should be enslaved by their own slaves, and have to keep him and his servile rabble; on the contrary, he was to be their champion and free them from the power of the wealthy and so-called upper classes? What if they then order him and his partisans to leave the country, like a father ordering his son out of the house with his riotous friends?”

“Then,” said he with emphasis, “people will find out soon enough what sort of beast they’ve bred and groomed for greatness. He’ll be too strong for them to turn out.”

“What?” I exclaimed. “Do you mean that the tyrant will dare to use violence against the people who fathered him, and raise his hand against them if they oppose him?”

“Yes,” he said, “when he has disarmed them.”

“So the tyrant is a parricide,” said I, “and little comfort to his old parent. In fact, here we have real tyranny, open and avowed, and the people find, as the saying is, that they’ve jumped out of the frying pan of subjection to free men into the fire of subjection to slaves, and exchanged their excessive and untimely freedom for the harshest and bitterest of servitudes, where the slave is the master.”

“That is exactly what happens.”

“Well,” I said, “I think we can fairly claim to have given an adequate description of how democracy turns to tyranny and what tyranny is like.”

“I think we can.”

The Tyrannical Character

Notes: 

Plato. (2007) The Republic. Translated by Desmond Lee. London: Penguin Books. pp 298 - 308.

What Goods Do The Political Elites Really Manufacture?

"Suppose that France suddenly lost fifty of her best physicists, chemists, physiologists, mathematicians, poets, painters, sculptors, musicians, writers; fifty of her best mechanical engineers, civil and military engineers, artillery experts, architects, doctors, surgeons, apothecaries, seamen, clockmakers; fifty of her best bankers, two hundred of her best business men, two hundred of her best farmers, fifty of her best ironmasters, arms manufacturers, tanners, dyers, miners, clothmakers, cotton manufacturers, silk-makers, linen-makers, manufacturers of hardware, of pottery and china, of crystal and glass, ship chandlers, carriers, printers, engravers, goldsmiths, and other metal-workers; her fifty best masons, carpenters, joiners, farriers, locksmiths, cutlers, smelters, and a hundred other persons of various unspecified occupations, eminent in the sciences, fine arts and professions; making in all the three thousand leading scientists, artists and artisans of France.

These men are the Frenchmen who are the most essential producers, those who make the most important products, those who direct the enterprises most useful to the nation, those who contribute to its achievements in the sciences, fine arts and professions. They are in the most real sense the flower of French society; they are, above all Frenchmen, the most useful to their country, contribute most to its glory, increasing its civilization and prosperity. The nation would become a lifeless corpse as soon as it lost them. It would immediately fall into a position of inferiority compared with the nations it now rivals, and would continue to be inferior until this loss has been replaced, until it had grown another head. It would require at least a generation for France to repair this misfortune; for men who are distinguished in work of positive ability are exceptions, and nature is not prodigal of exceptions, particularly in this species.

Let us pass on to another assumption. Suppose that France preserves all the men of genius that she possesses in the sciences, fine arts and professions, but has the misfortune to lose in the same day Monsieur the King's brother, Monseigneur le duc d'Angouleme, Monseigneur le duc d'Berry, Monseigneur le duc d'Orleans, Monseigneur le duc de Bourbon, Madame la duchesse d'Anguoleme, Madame la duchesse de Berry, Madame la duchesse d'Orleans, Madame la duchesse de Bourbon, and Madame la duchesse de Conde. Suppose that France loses at the same time all the great officers of the royal household, all the ministers (with or without portfolio), all the councillors of the state, all the chief magistrates, marshals, cardinals, archbishops, vicars-general, and canons, all the prefects and sub-prefects, all the civil servants, and judges, and, in addition, ten thousand of the richest proprietors who live in the style of nobles.

This mischance would certainly distress the French, because they are kind-hearted, and could not see with indifference the sudden disappearance of such a large number of their compatriots. But this loss of thirty-thousand individuals, considered to be the most important in the state, would only grieve them for purely sentimental reasons and would result in no political evil for the State."

Notes:

Henri d Saint-Simon, The Organizer (1819).