Introduction

Notwithstanding the air of humility and conviviality his writings present, Plato perhaps had awareness of the greatness and importance of his mission. We can easily imagine him possessed of great zeal to share his knowledge for the betterment of humankind. Perhaps, just as he studied traditions ancient in his time, he sensed that he was writing 'for the Ages.' To do this efficiently, and in a finite number of works, discretion and judgment would be required. Plato was not an encyclopediast. In the cases where he related myths, the purpose was to support his broader philosophic aims -- which pertain to the elevation and fundamental renewal of man's mind and soul.

In the present analysis I suggest interpretations at both the psychological and religious levels. These interpretations are interdependent and interpenetrating, but presented with sufficient separateness that readers who are not strongly disposed to the religious view may still find the psychological analysis, which has a practical emphasis, of interest.

The goal is not to analyze the myth in excessive detail. Rather, the idea is to suggest to the reader general contexts of meaning -- broad structural outlines of the myth's interpretation. With these in mind, one may then derive more specific and finely graded meaning oneself from reading, studying, and reflecting on the text.

We pursue the present interpretation in two section. The first considers the figure of the chariot itself. We then examine the larger allegory in which the chariot is involved.

The Chariot

As Plato's model naturally invites comparison with Freud's well-known id/ego/superego system, that is a convenient reference point. Plato, however, through myth, is able to express both rational and extra-rational knowledge. In the end one is left with the distinct impression that Plato's is the better model.

The Dark Horse

Of the two models, the most closely corresponding parts are the dark horse and Freud's id. The dark horse corresponds to appetites, concupiscence, and bodily desires and lusts. In Platonic psychology, this part of the soul is called the epithumetikon. Beyond this much we need say little -- this soul element, and its characteristic problems, is familiar enough, both experientially and at the relgio-cultural level.

The horse is unruly and causes great problems for Plato's charioteer. But, as in Freud's model, where it imparts energy or libido for general motivation of the psyche, so here too it is needed to draw the chariot. What is required, then, is a training of the horse -- the sublimation of Freud's system -- so that it provides properly-directed energy.

The Charioteer

The charioteer, who drives the chariot and commands the horses, with special attention needed to the unruly one, corresponds to the Freudian ego, which manages conflict between the id and super-ego (the latter, to anticipate, roughly corresponding to the white horse). However, unlike Freud's ego, which, in a sense, evolves or develops in the psyche specifically to broker disputes between the id and superego, Plato's charioteer has a more definite goal and destiny: to direct the chariot to the heights of heaven and beyond, there to behold 'divine sights'.

In Plato's psychology, the charioteer is associated with Reason and the reasoning element of the mind, and called logistikon, derived from the Greek word, logos.

The White Horse

The white horse stands for the element of the psyche associated courage, boldness, heroism, 'spiritedness' and what some call the irascible. Call to mind the image of the hero on the white charger. All the rich and varied mythos and connotations associated with a noble white steed apply.

This horse represents what is termed thumos in Plato's psychology. As indicated above, it roughly corresponds to the Freudian super-ego; however this is the point of greatest difference between the two models. In Freud's system, the super-ego mostly plays counterbalance to the id; further, there is a tendency to regard the superego as something learned -- a collective set of socialized rules of right-and-wrong internalized by a developing child. In that sense, the superego and the id are of different basic logical categories. In Plato's analogy, however, the white horse and black horses are of the same logical order, and this is no doubt significant. Like the black team-mate, the white horse is decidedly passionate, ambitious, energetic, and goal-seeking. It imparts equal force or drive to the chariot. But it is a white horse. There is, though, a basic asymmetry to the model, associated with the white horse's innate affinity for the charioteer. Whereas the dark horse needs the whip, the white horse is commanded by word alone.

The Modern Loss of Thumos

It is evident from Homer and before that Greek culture attached considerable importance to the concept of thumos. That a similar word or concept doesn't exist in modern English (and that super-ego is at best a meager and unsatisfying substitute) is terribly important. For something to be fully conscious -- and, especially for it to be part of the collective, public consciousness -- we need a word or term for it. Lacking a term, the idea or thing is marginalized, without complete access to our full intellectual and behavior repertoire. It is unintegrated into conscious psychic life. When something so basic as thumos is not integrated, the entire organism of the psyche must as a consequence necessarily be thrown into severe disarray.

Modern man has no concept of thumos. This is like the charioteer not realizing he has a white horse! If thumos is no longer consciously recognized, the variations of psychic disorder that result are numerous and diverse. This subject alone would merit a long article or book -- and probably relate quite directly to a number of serious contemporary social and cultural concerns. Here, however, we shall have to content ourselves to just list a few examples (a task facilitated by making convenient use of the analogy itself).

Among the problems that may result from the charioteer's incognizance of the white horse are these:

• The chariot lacks power. Half the chariot's energy comes from the white horse. Lacking this, the chariot cannot ascend to the heavens. In modern terms, this could be understood as like a state of generalized depression or anomie. Meanwhile the noble white is there, stamping his feet, eager to do the work for which he was bred.

  Apropos of this are the words Hamlet's famous soliloquy:

  Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing, end them.

  The second option, opposing the sea of troubles to end them, the heroic response -- that's thumos. Again, if a person lives in a culture where thumos is neglected or denied, and if they don't even recognize that they have it in the first place, the heroic path becomes that much more unfamiliar, difficult, and rare.

• The black horse dominates. If the charioteer does not recognize the white horse, all his attention is on the black horse. This is basically the Freudian view that has been indoctrinated into and dominates the collective Western thinking: all psychic life (and, therefore, all culture) is interpreted relative to the dark horse. Either one is dominated by appetites and lusts, and relies on them inordinately and inappropriately for motivation, or else one is unduly preoccupied with controlling and suppressing them. With Plato's model, there is an alternative: to let the dark horse run more or less according to its better natural inclinations, but to use its white companion to keep it from pulling the chariot off course..

• The white horse runs wild. While the white horse is noble and responsive to reason, it lacks reason and direction itself. Without the control of the charioteer, it will try to go its own way just as surely as the black horse will. Examples of this would be a strong, ambitious willfulness that is misdirected -- for example, ones energetically pursuing a project that seems worthy, but which is ultimately folly. The figure of Don Quixote tilting at windmills is apt.

  (Note: In Jungian theory, the taking control or appropriating of the ego by a dissociated part of the psyche is considered a form of 'possession'. The idea here then is one of thumos possession -- the thumos possesses the ego. While this is a relevant concern for all people, it might be especially so for women, among whom thumos is even more unfamiliar than among men. This would seem related to the idea of animus possession among women, which Jung discussed in several works.)

  While the horse is white, it is not perfect. Here the image, necessitated by the chariot analogy, is perhaps limited. A better animal symbol might be a lion (mentioned below): thumos can, when sufficiently threatened, lash out with violence and aggression, unless checked by reason. While it might be overstressing the analogy, we could possibly see in some acts of terrorism a misuse of the thumos. In the well-known 2004 video of Osama Bin Laden, he attributed his 'conversion' to terrorism with his witnessing the death and maiming of innocent women and children in the bombing of apartments in Lebanon by Israelis forces in 1982. Assuming his truthfulness here, what should have happened is this: he should have witnessed the terrible scene, and his thumos should have been activated in a positive way. He should have formulated a heroic response. That would be, for example, to say: "I desperately want to help these people, and for this to never happen again." But for that to happen, he would need to take the genuinely heroic step of somehow, against all seeming odds and precedent, contributing to peace in the Mid-East. This would require the cooperation of thumos and Reason.

• The white horse imitates the dark horse. Were we to consider a literal team of horses, we could imagine that, lacking the attention and control of the driver, one horse my follow the lead of the other. Here this would involve a subversion of the white horse and his energies in service of the appetites of the dark one. No doubt we can find examples of this in modern life -- such as individuals who aggressively crusade to promote indulgent lifestyles, falsely thinking this righteousness, etc.

• The white horse is misinterpreted and maligned. The charioteer cannot be oblivious entirely to the actions and powers of the white horse. He will feel its stirrings and movements in any case. Lacking an accurate concept to organize these sensations, he will instead use less appropriate ones. The most likely misunderstanding, mislabeling, misclassification, or misconceptualization of thumos would be to perceive it as anger, since their respective physical sensations have much in common. But feeling or expressing anger, per se, is not generally considered a good thing. Therefore the rider might treat his white horse harshly, pulling the reigns hard, even when the horse is actually headed in the right direction.

Identification

Accordingly, we may mention two ideas that are not explicitly addressed by the image, but which the analogy and our own experience suggest. One concerns the issue of identification. In our own mental life, it seems evident that, at any given time, something that we may call our conscious identification may reside with either our reasoning faculty, our appetitive nature, or our thumos nature. The preferred case, of course, is the first alternative. If one were to consider another's question, "Who are you?", or perhaps better still, the self-directed question, "Who am I?", the usual answer would refer to the reasoning part of ones nature -- this is what we often consider the ego in the colloquial (i.e., not specifically psychoanalytic) sense. Ego, in fact, means "I" or "me". Our usual self-image, then, basically corresponds to the role of the charioteer.

It seems plain enough, however, that a person's conscious identification may at times may be with either of the two horses. For instance, one may be entirely pre-occupied with some appetitive aim ('I simply must have that red convertible!' or, perhaps worse, 'I am a thoroughly modern person with all the latest gadgets -- picture telephones, high-resolution, wide-screen television, etc.). And we have already mentioned examples where a person becomes identified with their thumos.

This idea of variable locus of identity raises the possibility a fourth element of the soul -- which would be some basic, alternatively locatable sense of me-ness; a point of view; an 'I'. We simply raise this here as a theoretical possibility.

Guidance

A second question concerns where the charioteer gets his instructions from. Or, in a sense, we might ask: if he is the driver, who navigates? If the charioteer so ardently seeks the divine sights, doesn't this presuppose that he is lacking in some fundamental way? But if he is lacking, can he direct the chariot wisely?

The Christian view, of course, is that the soul's reasoning faculty is aided by divine grace. One view could be that God sends inspiration directly to the charioteer. Another is that the charioteer is accompanied by a second figure -- the image or actual presence of Jesus Christ in the soul. The idea of Christ as true pilot of the soul is, of course, a very familiar one to Christians, and one we see suggested in more or less explicit terms by many Fathers and Doctors of the Church.

It is further relevant to mention the most well-known chariot figure of Eastern religion, that of the great Indian work, the Bhagavad Gita. There, Prince Arjuna, the chariot' owner and the narrative's protagonist, is accompanied by Krishna, who advises and counsels him (see next section).

Whether or not he may have agreed with the idea, Plato perhaps would not have found the idea of some guiding or directing influence on the charioteer wholly unfamiliar. Among the Golden Verses of Pythagoras (Firth/Taylor, 1904) we find the following:

Other Chariot Analogies

Ezekiel's Chariot Vision

While ostensibly a vision of God, it is also figurative of the human soul, the God-image in man. Ezekiel, it will be recalled, saw a dramatic vision of a Chariot and the Throne of God within it:

The fantastic vehicle contained four living creatures -- later (Eze 10) identified as cherubim -- each with four faces: human, lion, bull, and eagle. Each figure was also associated with wings, as well as 'wheels within wheels', conveying the idea of movement.

In his Commentary on Ezekiel (ca. 410 AD), St. Jerome specifically related the Chariot-Throne image to Plato's psychology. In Jerome's analysis: the human face corresponds to the Platonic logistikon, the soul's reasoning faculty (i.e., the Phaedrus' charioteer); the lion to Plato's thumos element (white horse); and the bull to concupiscence, epithumia (dark horse). (Though most English translations say ox here, the Hebrew word, showr, as means either bull or ox.) The eagle, however, has no obvious counterpart in Plato's psychology or chariot analogy. Jerome, picking an eagle's keen vision as the defining attribute, saw it as representing a transcendent part of the psyche, something that hovers above the others, able to scrutinize and discern things. This is a rather remarkable insight on Jerome's part, though whether it originated entirely with him or was mentioned by other writers before him is perhaps open to speculation.

In any case, this additional faculty or power of the soul seems worthy of further consideration (although not here). It does not seem the same as the 'I' principle alluded to above. I would rather suggest that it may have more to do with things like Wisdom or special sapiential faculties of the mind or psyche.

We are also told (Eze 1:26) that above the fantastic figures was the likeness of a throne and, upon or above this, the likeness as the appearance of a man. In Christian theology, the figure on the throne would correspond to the Christ-image or to Christ within the soul. The Syrian monk, Pseudo-Macarius, a contemporary of St. Jerome, wrote in a homily on Ezekiel's vision (Maloney, 1992; Homily 1):

Merkabah and Hekhalot Mysticism

The influence of Platonism or neoplatonism seems likely. However, we may also allow the possibility that this Jewish mysticism has roots in a much older Chaldean or even Egyptian tradition. The principles and basic ideas of chariot mystical ascent, of course, have much in common with the ecstatic soul-flights of shamanism, which, from its ubiquitous geographic dispersal, we may well suppose to be of prehistoric origin. The incorporation of chariot symbolism could have occurred only shortly after the invention of the chariot itself (2000 BC?) and at many different locations simultaneously.

The Katha Upanishad

Similarities to the Phaedrus myth are obvious, but there are important differences as well. In the Katha Upanishad, the horses are identified as the senses, and no qualitative (i.e., evaluative) distinction is made among them; that is, there is no good-white-horse/bad-black-horse discrimination as in the Phaedrus. Nothing suggesting thumos, especially in its positive, heroic aspects, is mentioned. The similarities and differences are such that a hypothesis of common origin of this and the Phaedrus myth can be neither demonstrated convincingly nor disproven. Overall, the explicit reference to reincarnation in both analogies is perhaps the strongest evidence in favor of historical connection. But, if so, we lack a basis to prefer a model of East-to-West or West-to-East dissemination, or even, say, a Persian origin and from thence to both West and East.

The Bhagavad Gita and Mahabharata

However, the Anu Gita section of the epic Mahabharata contains further conversations between Krishna and Arjuna after the battle. There we find the following passage (Telang, 1882) which begins, "Brahman said":

Similarities between this passage and the Katha Upanishad are evident.

So much, then, for the figure of the chariot itself. We now turn attention to the allegory.

The Allegory of Ascent and Fall

Theosis

In Greek and other ancient religions, the idea of theosis, that a person might become a god or godlike, was common. Theosis still figures prominently in Eastern Christianity, but in Western Christianity it gets little attention. For many Americans and Europeans, Christianity is too often only an ethical system. It's small wonder, then, so many flock to the New Age and Eastern religions, which cater to peoples' natural interest in theosis.

Plato's philosophy contains a theory and method for the soul's theosis. For example, in the dialogue, Theaetetus (176b), he writes:

and this passage could as easily appear in the Phaedrus. The soul's divinization, for Plato, is accomplished by, among other things, what he calls contemplation (theoria) of the divine Forms. These are what the soul in the chariot myth sees in its ascent 'beyond the heavens'.

Readers will likely have heard of Plato's doctrine of Forms, but may, thanks in part to the narrow view promoted by modern positivistic philosophy, have a mistaken or limited understanding if it. A common modern view is that Plato's Forms refer simply to intellectual abstractions or universal definitions. To clarify this, and to reveal the true religious dimension of Plato's theory, we must to consider this subject in a little detail.

First, remarks about the word, 'Forms', are in order. The term itself is potentially misleading, since it tends to imply or connote things that are definitions or intellectual abstractions. Plato's actual word is eide, which could be translated as Ideas. However, the term, 'Ideas', is also potentially misleading, because Plato's Forms exist independently of human thought; they are eternal (outside of time) realities. Possibly better terms might be Essences or Realities. Ultimately, there may be no good single word to describe these things. Perhaps Plato picked the word, eide, because in Greek that implies something seen, and, for him, the Forms are perceived by a mental faculty similar to vision. Lacking a better term, we might as we well stay with 'Forms', understanding it as an placeholder for a better one (i.e., we could as easily call these X's).

It's also important to distinguish between two kinds of Forms. First are those associated with material objects. For example, there might be a Form for all tables, one for all dogs, etc. The Form of a table would be the essential quality that all actual, particular tables share. We might call this Plato's general theory of Forms. In contrast is what we could call his special theory of Forms. This applies not to material objects, but to intangible things like beauty, truth, wisdom, temperance, courage, justice, and goodness. Like tables and dogs, these things may occur in particular instances; but we may also inquire as to the essences which all particular instances have in common. What is the essence of beauty? What do all experiences of beauty have in common? That is the Platonic Form, Beauty.

The distinction between the general and special kinds of Forms is extremely important and often overlooked by those who deny that Plato is alluding to deeper metaphysical realities here. It is arguably the case that Plato discussed the former, general kind of Forms primarily as a means to introduce the second, more important kind. Even his ancient critics seem to agree, for example, that Socrates, Plato's teacher, was mainly interested in the second kind of Forms. It is the acquaintance or contact with the Forms of intangible things like beauty, justice, virtue, etc. that divinize the soul.

An Example

Every year or so around Christmas time, many or most people have a singular experience of 'Christmas Joy'. It's like suddenly remembering, "Yes, this is what it's all about! How foolish of me to have forgotten!" One then invariably has the wish or intention to retain the feeling all year long (and almost as invariably, one doesn't).

Now the content of this experience is something universal, because it doesn't just apply to one particular thing or event. The essence of the experience is the same thing, both then, and if you have the experience another time; it's literally as though there is the one thing, Joy, which you see or participate in at both times. It's also transcendent, because it doesn't strictly apply to or require anything material. One could imagine having the same feeling even if one had no physical body. It is a religious experience. All it really requires is that, besides your own soul, that God and other souls exist. The basis for true Joy, we might say, is the realization and appreciation that one has the opportunity to Love God and others, that such Love is possible at all, and that it is an essential feature of our existence. The above may but a poor description of the experience, but hopefully it conveys the general idea.

Such an experience has a feeling-like quality, but also an intellectual component: an insight or clear recognition that there should be peace on earth; that this is how things are meant to be; how obvious this all is, etc. This transcends ordinary experience, feeling, and reasoning. It is something you simultaneously see, feel, understand, experience, and participate in. This, I propose, is what it means to experience one of the special Platonic Forms. This is our peeking temporarily into the realm 'above the heavens'.

Theosis and Soul Growth

In Plato's allegory, each time the soul ascends to the highest realm, it sees, experiences, or mentally grasps one such divine Form. Repeated ascents make soul gradually more godlike, more divine, more like God.

Lest one think the idea of theosis is mere hubris, we need only look at Scripture. First, we are told rather explicitly in Genesis that the human being is made in God's image and likeness. While we are in a 'fallen' condition, this merely hides or obscures the God-image in which we are made. Nothing biblical ever suggests that the God-image itself was damaged or lost.

Second, we can see in several passages what seem like clear allusions to the idea of becoming more divine or godlike. For example, the first Epistle of John says:

St. Paul, too, addressees this idea in 1 Cor 13:12 and 2 Cor 3:18. He basically implies that we could not, at present, bear to see God as He is, because we are too unlike Him; but that eventually, as we are made more like God, proceeding "from glory to glory", we will be more able to see Him "face to face."

In Plato's system, our gradual divinization occurs as we become better acquainted with Forms like those of Beauty, Virtue, Justice, Goodness, etc. These are, in a sense, manifestations of God's nature. The ability to experience these Forms develops through: (1) moral improvement; (2) detachment from worldly concerns, (3) Platonic contemplation (theoria) , (4) love of Wisdom (philosophia), (5) piety and holiness; (6) edifying discourse and inquiry (dialogue) ; and (7) general intellectual training (e.g., mathematics, etc.). Just as with the Christian idea of the God-image of the human soul, Plato emphasizes that the divine Forms are not foreign to us. Our soul already has an affinity for them; in a sense, it is the same "stuff" as these Forms. He further suggests that we have already seen or experienced these Forms, and what is involved is a kind or remembering of them. Our increasing in communion with God, becoming more godlike, and seeing the imprint of divinity already in the soul are parts of the same process.

Contemplative Ascent

Sometimes these 'descents' are connected with falling prey to temptation -- falls from grace in the ordinary understanding of the phrase. Yet at other times they seem without any obvious connection to the ethical behavior of the person, as in the Book of Job. One of the challenges the person then faces is that of remembering or holding onto the recognition of the gains, insights, truths, etc., experienced during the previous ascents.

While clearly related, this idea is somewhat different from the theosis described above. In this kind of contemplative ascent and communion, there may not be the same experience of contact with divine Forms. In fact, there may at times be little or no intellectual content (as conventionally understood) to the ecstatic experience at all. Sometimes there is just a sense of the presence of God, or sometimes it may be as though the understanding and senses are asleep, in the terminology of St. Teresa.

The Ascent to the Present

At the higher levels of this dimension: the mind is collected and lucid; the outwardly sensible world is more clear; inwardly, there is greater capacity for insight; one is more easily absorbed in work, better able to concentrate.

The opposite or lower end of the dimension is characterized in general by mental distraction and agitation. Were we to examine it further, a wide range of different kinds of disruptive and intruding thoughts (anxiety, fear, anger, daydreaming, etc.) could be recognized. Outward perception is less distinct, and inwardly there is little or no insight.

If required to choose a single word to denote the level of superior functioning, I would propose the word, recollection. It is a reasonable choice, and has the advantage of connecting discussion here with similar ideas presented elsewhere.

In one sense, the state of recollection and composure is quite extraordinary -- in that it is statistically uncommon. But in another sense it is quite ordinary -- the natural or intended mode of functioning. It's the state we refer to when we talk about 'getting it together'. While ordinary in this sense, the state is nonetheless very positive, because the nature of human existence is basically such that simply being, doing, working, is, in essence, a positive, rewarding, and generally positive thing. Of course, ultimately we are speaking here of a range of states of greater or lesser extraordiness.

The idea of a 'Zen-like' flow state, where the outward world is experienced through cleansed 'doors of perception' is familiar to most modern readers, as it has been a popular literary topic beginning around the 1950s. This is not the only dimension to the kind experience we mean here, however. Overemphasis upon enhanced perception and physical activity reflects somewhat an unusual anti-intellectual bias that has become prevalent. While these attributes are important to consider, they are potentially less important than a comparable enhancement of intellectual activity. In these states, may discover and marvel at the amazing complexity, scope, depth, and speed of our mental processes. One may begin to see how much, ordinarily, we impede and obstruct these processes; how much we oppose ourselves; how many mental errors we make -- and by our own choice. Processes, decisions, and levels that are ordinarily pre-conscious can open to our awareness. This is all very much connected with sapiential faculties, exceptional cognitive activities associated with discernment and the 'Wisdom' given so much emphasis by many world religions.

Unfortunately, such states of exceptional recollection or composure are often difficult to obtain. Instead, we are often tossed about by the vicissitudes of life -- anxious, worried, distracted, on the one hand; or mentally occupied with self-deceptions, defense-mechanism, or idle and vain thoughts on the other. Further, even when we are able to obtain a modicum of composure, it seems only a matter of time before we will become distracted again.

This, then, I propose as the third level at which we may interpret the chariot allegory: the alternation of ascents along the dimension to greater recollection and mental 'presence', and the falls back into states distraction, confusion, or loss or diminution of soul.

Embodiment

This brings us to one of the most intriguing parts of the Phaedrus chariot allegory. There, the soul chariot falls, either because of mishandling of the horses (inability to control the appetites or desires; ethical or mental failing), or because of forgetfulness (not remembering ones true nature and the divine Forms, etc.). What's especially interesting, and presumably significant, is that Plato is very specific at this point. He might have simply said, "then the soul becomes embodied, where it awaits the regrowth of wings" and left it at that. Instead he details nine(!) different levels, and categories within each, of life into which the soul may fall. Further, the details concerning the multiple lives required before the soul may regain wings are specific and somewhat complex. One might suppose, then, that Plato had something specific in mind in giving so much detail. And even he didn't, we could justify interpreting them on the grounds that they carry unconscious meaning -- just as one may interpret the unconscious content of dream images. The details are not to be glossed over, in any case.

I would interpret this section's basic meaning as follows. Life, whether seen at the level of salvatory theosis, contemplative ascent, or attainment of psychological composure, is characterized by periods of growth and periods of apparent setbacks. In the latter case, ones goal is clearly to get back 'on track' as quickly as possible. That, however, is often obstructed by a tendency to forget or lose sight of the previous exalted states or revelations. Once off the path, one is in serious danger of forgetting oneself, ones mission, goal, and destiny. This is why falling off the path is so dangerous in the first place -- the next step is more often likely to be one further away from the path than back towards it.

This progressive aspect is represented by the successive lives in the chariot allegory. It isn't just a matter of the soul falling and incarnating, and then growing new wings. The initial fall may be to varying degrees. And after the first incarnation, more are required. Following each is a judgment, with reward or punishment; then there is selection of a new life, determined partly by choice and partly by lots; this is like how, in life, ones next state of mind is partly determined by ones current state and partly by the exigencies of circumstance.

Here is why it's so important to become a philosopher, or else a lover of Beauty, whenever possible. At this highest level of 'embodiment' we remain in a position most favorable both (1) for the regrowth of the soul's wings, and (2) for choosing another propitious embodiment, should that be required. Having a philosophic, loving, or creative attitude now is the surest way to re-attain a desired exalted (winged, unembodied) state, or, if not, to at least remain in a superior embodied state in the future.

Categories of Embodiment

With these considerations in mind, we shall examine the specific kinds of embodiment mentioned in (248d-e).

Against a possible charge of overinterpretation we may note the following. We have here with an ancient myth here -- at least 2400 years old and perhaps much older. The works of Joseph Campbell and Carl Jung have established beyond much doubt that ancient myths carry important psychological meanings. They were formulated in the first place, and have endured over centuries, by virtue of resonance and relevance to personal psychological experience. They can be understood as a means of cultural expression of important psychological and philosophical matters. In the case of Greek myths, especially, such meanings may have been expressed in myths not just unconsciously, but perhaps also with conscious awareness and intent.

The question, then, is not so much whether there is psychological meaning here, but whether we can find the correct meaning. With mythos of such fundamental significance, we should recognize the possibility multiple meanings. An apt analogy is found in St.. Augustine's words concerning the "true" level at which to interpret the Creation story of Genesis:

The idea of multiple levels of meaning, of course, is consistent with our approach in the previous section. We shall here, however, be primarily focused on the level of immediate psychological experience --a fall from a state we've termed recollection. This psychological experience is, in a sense, a common denominator and also the most direct manifestation of a fall from the progress in theosis, or from contemplative ascent.

Rather than risk defeating the purpose of the poetic imagery, which, as we suggest, is allegorically expressed precisely because it exceeds simple logical presentation, we'll consider only the most general principles. With these the reader may then derive more specific meanings best suited to his or her own situation.

The nine levels of embodiment and their subcategories are summarized in Table 1. (There we rely more on Hackworth's [1952] more modern translation than Jowett's [1892]).

The highest and lowest levels are of principal interest and command most of our attention:

• Philosopher, lover of Beauty, musician - and lover

  Here one remains in a position most favorable for both (1) the regrowth of the soul's wings, and (2) the ability to choose another good embodiment, should that be required.

  Philosopher. A philosopher, though embodied, keeps the mind attuned to religious and divine matters; his or her thoughts and activities are directed to the supersensual realm; the person is in the world but not of it -- prepared to deal with the world, but also cognizant of its illusory or maya-like qualities. Philosophy, in the words of Socrates, means a life preparing to die -- not meaning literal death, but to attachment to the material world.

  Lover of Beauty. Plato's word here is philokalou, a lover of beauty or Beauty. Like the philosopher, such a one is concerned with divine, transcendent, and eternal things; and may also act to bring beauty into the lives of others.

  Musician. Perhaps the paradigmatic case is that of an orchestral composer or conductor; that is, one who organizes all the musical instruments into a beautiful, cohesive whole.

  Lover. This refers, of course, to divine forms of love. The best form of love, and that to which all other forms should lead, according to Plato, is the love of the source of Goodness, which is God. To quote St. Augustine again,

  But the true and highest good, according to Plato, is God, and therefore he would call him a philosopher who loves God; for philosophy is directed to the obtaining of the blessed life, and he who loves God is blessed in the enjoyment of God. (City of God, 8.8; Marcus Dods, tr.)

Thus the lover here is synonymous with being a philosopher, as should be clear from the entire context of Phaedrus.

• Righteous king or warrior chief

  Righteous king. A king rules, commands a state. This would be one who is in control of oneself; who organizes and directs the polity of the psyche in the service of righteousness.

  Righteous warrior chief. A warrior chief is similar, though here there is more energy and thumos. This is like a person who approaches a project with a militant or aggressive zeal. One in this state retains sufficient recollection and discernment to choose a worthy task. The war-like attitude means one puts other things aside and approaches the project with single-mindedness and determination. This state is not ideal, but is positively directed, and one may accomplish a great deal. A danger here, and in the next levels, is that one may identify too strongly with the state and fail to seek the superior status of philosopher.

• Administrator, businessman, trader

  All these require integrity, and may accomplish good; but the soul may be weighed down by material concerns. Concessions may be made to the dark horse; but Reason retains the upper hand.

• Athlete, or physical trainer and physician

  These correspond to a person concerned with the body and physical health. They are good pursuits, but carry the risk of ones placing the body ahead of intellect in importance. These are to be distinguished from a philosopher who lives healthily so as to be a better philosopher and so that the body does not hinder the mind.

• Prophet, mystery-priest

  This does not mean a truly spiritual person, who is a philosopher. Rather, this status, to quote Hackforth (p. 84): "is no doubt that of the shadier sort of religious 'expert' to whom Socrates refers with such contempt at Rep. 364b ff." The religious charlatans referred to there were mercenary magicians who promoted idle superstitious and magical beliefs. In this category we would place "religious materialists" -- those who use esoteric pursuits or beliefs as a means of escape, or as a means to justify or trivialize vice, attachment to appetites, etc.

• Imitative artist, craftsman, farmer

  These categories, which comprise two levels in Plato's taxonomy, are similar in that a person is engaged in work that is not very creative -- a laborer, in other words. These toil, allowing themselves to be content with drudgery, but neglect the mind.

• Sophist, demagogue

  Sophist

  Sophists were the pseudo-philosophers of Plato's time. (Plato criticized them as sharply as Jesus criticized the scribes and Pharisees, and for many of the same reasons.) Sophists habitually relied on specious reasoning. But most of all they were characterized by an attitude of cynicism and malicious skepticism. They wished not so much to establish a belief as to deny that truth is unattainable; in that context, of course, all manner of appetitive indulgence and 'carnality' is tolerable.

  Thus, one becomes a sophist when one deludes oneself with false reasoning or lets doubt and cynicism dominate ones outlook. There seems a clear link to depressive states as well: if truth is unattainable, why exert the intellect? Why not just let the mind go to sleep?

  Demagogue

  One kind of demagogue tries to control the populus with empty promises and false hopes. Another incites hatred and anger to distract attention from more important concerns. A person becomes a self-demagogue when motivated by vain and illusory goals, or when the personality is organized around an irrational hatred or anger.

• Tyrant

  Of all these conditions, the worst is that of a tyrant. In self-tyranny, the mind is completely closed to Reason, and there is no direct route back to being a philosopher. One becomes a tyrant when appetites or lusts take over completely -- when one not only succumbs or indulges, but does so with a conscious and forceful decision to cast aside all restraint and reason. Some appetite or desire then becomes a tyrant, resisting and suppressing all dissent.

  A sophist or demagogue at least maintains the semblance of rationality. But not so a tyrant: a demagogue distorts, a sophist despairs of, but a tyrant defies Reason.

  Perhaps most importantly, a tyrant oppresses and significantly harms the populus. Addictive behaviors are perhaps the must obvious example of self-tyranny.

One of the most important aspects of these negative categories is that there is no easy way back from them to the highest states, much less back to the state where one grows wings. In terms of the allegory, these are the states where one has forgotten almost completely the vision of the Forms.

The allegory does allude to a condition worse than a tyrant--that of a beast. This would be one who has gone so much into their appetites that they no longer have even the capacity for moderation or for self-reflection concerning their situation.

This, I propose, conveys the basic principles associated with one meaning of successive embodiment in the chariot allegory. At the least, it seems a useful way that it may be interpreted.

Discussion

Implications

In this case, the one thing you most don't want to do is this: to let yourself become so upset, resentful, unhappy, and flustered that you forget the entire gameplan. In particular, one must avoid at all costs becoming so upset that one becomes identified with the upsettedness and the fallen state. Otherwise, even should the initial fallen state be rather mild -- an administrator -- the next step may well be to that of a demagogue or tyrant.

What you do want is this: to keep things in perspective, and to retain composure as much as possible. Should you simply lose your ecstatic wings and fall into the state of a philosopher, lover, musician, or creative artist, consider yourself fortunate. Tend to your business, patiently awaiting the wings' regrowth; beware a fall to a lower state. Should you first fall to a lower state -- a merchant or laborer -- again do your work well, and seek to become a philosopher: that is the best gateway to re-ascent. And should you be so unfortunate as to fall to one of the worst states, recognize this and come to your senses as quickly as possible; your understanding the principles of self-sophistry, demagoguery, and tyranny may promote this.

These are the main considerations, but there are also others, all of which follow more or less naturally from the principles of common sense and the organizing framework supplied by this metaphor. We may list a few more examples as follows:

• Try not to fall in the first place. It isn't as easy to get back on track as one tends to believe. You might think, "I'll just stray for a moment." But the memory of the Forms often fades quickly and one easily get lost in dallying. You may find that returning to the path involves unwelcome detours and delay.

• Ascend as high as you can in the first place. According to the allegory, this gives one better vision of the Forms, stronger memories, and faster regrowth of wings.

• Choose to be a philosopher, lover, musician, or creative artist whenever you can (but especially a philosopher).

• If you're going to fall, understand that there are degrees, and, if possible, try to fall as little as possible.

• Learn to recognize and classify your present condition. This will help you retain perspective on things.

• Use reminders. In the allegory, it's failure to remember the Forms and the soul's purpose that leads to inferior embodiments; and remembrance that mediates the faster advancement of the philosopher. The relevant memories can be stimulated or retained by such things as suitable reading material, edifying discourse, etc. And, of course, the opposite is also true: distractions like usual television programs, aimless 'web-surfing', idle talk, and so on, contribute to forgetting the important things.

Conclusions