Saturday, March 5, 2011

democracy: a drunken pleasure-cruise?

In my Political Theory class, we're learning about the defense and arguments against democracy. It's so interesting to be reading deTocqueville's love story about American democracy, and then reading about Plato's complete opposition to democracy! According to Plato, democratic self-government does not work because ordinary people have not learned how to run the state. They are not familiar enough with such things such as economics, military strategy, conditions in other countries, or the complications of law and ethics. They are also not inclined to acquire such knowledge. The effort and self-discipline for serious study is not something most people dedicate themselves. In their ignorance, they vote for politicians who beguile them with appearances and convincing speeches, and inevitably find at the mercy of administrations and situations over which they have no control because they do not understand what is happening to them. They are guided by unreliable emotions more than by careful analysis, and they are lured into wars and victimized by costly defeats that could have been avoided. This is how the Republic portrays politics in a democracy, with the ship as the state, the captain representing the majority of the people, and the sailors as politicians:


Imagine then a ship or a fleet in which there is a captain who is taller and stronger than any of the crew, but who is a little deaf and has a similar infirmity in sight, and whose knowledge of navigation is not much better. The sailors are quarreling with one another about the steering—every one is of the opinion that he has a right to steer, though he has never learned the art of navigation …
[The sailors] throng about the captain, begging and praying him to commit the helm to them; and if at any time they do not prevail, but others are preferred to them, they kill the others or throw them overboard, and having first chained up the noble captain’s senses with drink or some narcotic drug, they mutiny and take possession of the ship and make free with the stores, thus eating and drinking. They proceed on their voyage in such a manner as can be expected of them. Him who is their partisan and cleverly aids them in their plot for getting the ship out of the captain’s hands into their own whether by force or persuasion, they compliment with the name of sailor, pilot, able seaman, and abuse the other sort of man, whom they call a good-for-nothing; but that the good pilot must pay attention to the year and seasons and sky and stars and winds, and whatever else belongs to his art, if he intends to be really qualified for the command of a ship, and that he must and will be the steerer, whether other people like it or not—the possibility of this union of authority with the steerer’s art has never seriously entered into their thoughts or been made part of their calling.

He compares ruling to navigation: steering the ship of state. If we leave navigation to the mob, we can imagine what sort of chaos would ensue: a "drunken pleasure-cruise," says Plato. But maybe democracy is more about achieving the things we value, as opposed to achieving things efficiently. Maybe navigation doesn't always have such a clear purpose of efficient arrival at pre-chosen destinations. What if instead, we compared democracy to a "training voyage," in which everyone had a turn at the helm. Why shouldn't a journey in the ship of state be a drunken pleasure-cruise? What's wrong with that, at least, if everyone has a good time and we all eventually get to to the destination safely?