Banned from the Polis: The Poetic Citizen

If you consider, I said, that when in misfortune we feel a natural hunger and desire to relieve our sorrow by weeping and lamentation, and that this feeling which is kept under control in our own calamities is satisfied and delighted by the poets;--the better nature in each of us, not having been sufficiently trained by reason or habit, allows the sympathetic element to break loose because the sorrow is another's; and the spectator fancies that there can be no disgrace to himself in praising and pitying any one who comes telling him what a good man he is, and making a fuss about his troubles; he thinks that the pleasure is a gain, and why should he be supercilious and lose this and the poem too? Few persons ever reflect, as I should imagine, that from the evil of other men something of evil is communicated to themselves. And so the feeling of sorrow which has gathered strength at the sight of the misfortunes of others is with difficulty repressed in our own.
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And does not the same hold also of the ridiculous? There are jests which you would be ashamed to make yourself, and yet on the comic stage, or indeed in private, when you hear them, you are greatly amused by them, and are not at all disgusted at their unseemliness;--the case of pity is repeated;--there is a principle in human nature which is disposed to raise a laugh, and this which you once restrained by reason, because you were afraid of being thought a buffoon, is now let out again; and having stimulated the risible faculty at the theatre, you are betrayed unconsciously to yourself into playing the comic poet at home.
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And the same may be said of lust and anger and all the other affections, of desire and pain and pleasure, which are held to be inseparable from every action--in all of them poetry feeds and waters the passions instead of drying them up; she lets them rule, although they ought to be controlled, if mankind are ever to increase in happiness and virtue.

--From Plato's Republic Book X (Benjamin Jowett Trans.)

In regards to politics, and the best way of life, there is an ancient quarrel between philosophy and poetry, which thereby leads Plato to banish all such poets from his famous "city in speech." Along with his Symposium, Plato's Republic acknowledges the power that poets (particularly those such as the thespians Aristophanes and Agathon) have over the wills and opinions of their fellow men. Given this power, it should come as no surprise that Socrates sends them packing.

This poses an interesting question in regards to an open and democratic society. If one accepts the argument regarding the powers of the Poet, can one accept a particular segment of society having this level of unaccounted sway over the habits and opinions of others? Indeed, the reasoning of Plato seems to present one of the most dangerous forces in an open society, unless it is properly channeled.

To paraphrase a far more populist American philosopher, Spiderman, there is the idea that with great power comes great responsibility. As such, perhaps it would behoove the artistic community to follow this parabasis put forth by the great comedian Aristophanes:

Never since our poet presented Comedies, has he praised himself upon the stage; but, having been slandered by his enemies amongst the volatile Athenians, accused of scoffing at his country and of insulting the people, to-day he wishes to reply and regain for himself the inconstant Athenians. He maintains that he has done much that is good for you; if you no longer allow yourselves to be too much hoodwinked by strangers or seduced by flattery, if in politics you are no longer the ninnies you once were, it is thanks to him. Formerly, when delegates from other cities wanted to deceive you, they had but to style you, "the people crowned with violets," and, at the word "violets" you at once sat erect on the tips of your bums. Or, if to tickle your vanity, someone spoke of "rich and sleek Athens," in return for that 'sleekness' he would get all, because he spoke of you as he would have of anchovies in oil. In cautioning you against such wiles, the poet has done you great service as well as in forcing you to understand what is really the democratic principle. Thus, the strangers, who came to pay their tributes, wanted to see this great poet, who had dared to speak the truth to Athens. And so far has the fame of his boldness reached that one day the Great King, when questioning the Lacedaemonian delegates, first asked them which of the two rival cities was the superior at sea, and then immediately demanded at which it was that the comic poet directed his biting satire. "Happy that city," he added, "if it listens to his counsel; it will grow in power, and its victory is assured." This is why the Lacedaemonians offer you peace, if you will cede them Aegina; not that they care for the isle, but they wish to rob you of your poet. As for you, never lose him, who will always fight for the cause of justice in his Comedies; he promises you that his precepts will lead you to happiness, though he uses neither flattery, nor bribery, nor intrigue, nor deceit; instead of loading you with praise, he will point you to the better way. I scoff at Cleon's tricks and plotting; honesty and justice shall fight my cause; never will you find me a political poltroon, a prostitute to the highest bidder.

--From Aristophanes The Acharnians

Thus, artists must ask themselves the important question of how should they go about using their influence and gifts. Aristophanes would have one employ them in the pursuit of social justice and the overall good.

Yet this assumes that there is such an entity as the Poetic Citizen, and that there is such a level of authority to be exercised. It elevates the poet or artist somewhat out of the citizenry, enshrining them as something special.

This does not quite seem to mesh with the realities of artistic life. While such might be the case of the cosseted faculty of the Tisch School and their performance art, the more average thespian must actually live within the society they are, at times, charged to protect. Given this, I posit the idea of the citizen poet, who plies his (or her) trade but is heavily affected by the surrounding society. The theatre's reliance on the good graces of the audience to remain not only in business, but also in existence adds new dimension to the Audience/Poet power relationship. As de Tocqueville pointed out, the theatre is highly democratized due to its need for social support.

Thus, to relate this (however tenuously) back to the "Beautiful Process" of Community-based dramaturgy, the citizen poet must be malleable to bring in the audience, only to then turn and give them a dose of what is good in the Aristophanes tradition given the powers that Plato posited. Indeed, coming to a complete understanding of this flexible power differential, may be the most demanding dramaturgical task facing thespians in the 21st century.