The Psychoanalytic Quarterly

ISSN: 0033-2828 (Print) 2167-4086 (Online) Journal homepage: https://www.tandfonline.com/loi/upaq20

Plato and Freud

Bennett Simon

To cite this article: Bennett Simon (1973) Plato and Freud, The Psychoanalytic Quarterly, 42:1,
91-122, DOI: 10.1080/21674086.1973.11926622

To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/21674086.1973.11926622

Published online: 16 Nov 2017.

Submit your article to this journal

Article views: 2

View related articles

Full Terms & Conditions of access and use can be found at

https://www.tandfonline.com/action/journalInformation?journalCode=upaq20
PLATO AND FREUD
THE MIND IN CONFLICT AND
THE MIND IN DIALOGUE
BY BENNEIT SIMON, M.D. (CAMBRIDGE, MASS.)

In The Ego and the Id, Freud (1923) writes: 'The ego repre­
sents what may be called reason and common sense, in con­
trast to the id, which contains the passions. All this falls into
line with popular distinctions which we are all familiar
with .. .' (p. 25).
The 'popular distinctions' to which Freud refers are, I
believe, those which first entered and becanie articulated in
Western thought with Plato's philosophy. My task here is to
outline and expand this notion of the mind as divided into
one portion that represents reason and another that repre­
sents the instincts, and to demonstrate the implications and
some consequences of viewing the mind in this way. I propose
that this particular division is the fundamental one in Plato,
and a very important one in Freud, though for Freud it is only
a first step in his theory.
The comparison between Plato and Freud has a long his­
tory. Freud, apart from a few scattered remarks about Plato
in his earlier writings (particularly, The Interpretation of
Dreams), did not make the comparison until 1920 in the
introduction to the fourth edition of Three Essays on the
Theory of Sexuality (Freud, 1905).
And as for the 'stretching' of the concept of sexuality which has
been necessitated by the analysis of children and what are
This is a version of a paper presented to the Boston Group for Applied
Psychoanalysis, February 14, 1972. I am particularly indebted to Professor T.
Irwin, Department of Philosophy, Harvard University, for his critique of the
work. Dr. William Grossman (Albert Einstein College of Medicine) read and
discussed versions of this work over acveral years and contributed substantially
to the evolution of the ideas therein.

91
92 BENNEIT SIMON

called perverts, anyone who looks down with contempt upon

psycho-analysis from a superior vantage-point should remem­
ber how closely the enlarged sexuality of psycho-analysis coin­
cides with the Eros of the divine Plato (Cf. Nachmansohn,
1915) (p. 11H)·
Indeed, the majority of the references to Plato in Freud per­
tain to some aspect of the similarity between Eros and libido.
The essay cited by Freud, the first extended discussion of the
comparison, takes proper note of the methodological difficul­
ties involved in attempting such a task. N achmansohn first
attacks Jung's overly extended definition of libido, and then
argues that Plato's notion of Eros is remarkably close to Freud's
version of libido. He emphasizes that some notion of subli­
mation is implicit in Plato's characterization of the properties
of Eros.
Pfister (1922) makes some extensive claims for the similarity
between Plato and Freud, calling Plato a forerunner of
Freud. In his paper, perhaps also written with one eye on
Jung, Pfister tries to enhance the plausibility of Freud's the­
ories by arguing that a great thinker of the past had notions
similar to Freud's. He compares Plato and Freud on Eros
and libido, on the idea of the unconscious, and in respect to
views about harmony and health. On the whole uncritical,
the discussion makes a few interesting observations.
A book by Georgiades in 1934, deliberately titled De Freud
a Platon, emphasizes a particularly important methodological
issue in such comparisons. Georgiades points out that Plato
may be a forerunner of Freud, but in addition to being con­
strued as a protopsychoanalyst, Plato has been taken as a Chris­
tian, a mystic, a liberal humanist, a fascist (or communist)
political theoretician, and a protoeugenicist. In fact, he writes
that because of our interest in Freud, and because of issues
raised by Freud's work, we turn back and take a fresh look
at Plato, and then see similarities. Georgiades then moves on
to a detailed discussion of the divisions of the psyche in rela­
tion to Freud's concepts of ego, id, and superego; he compares
the horse and rider image in The Ego and the Id to the Phae-
PLATO AND FREUD 93

drus, where the soul is depicted as a charioteer with two horses.

He makes numerous other points of contrast and similarity,
including the arguments that there is some notion of the un­
conscious in Plato's work, and some idea of repression.
More recently, there have been valuable contributions by
Lain-Entralgo (1970), Amado Levy-Valensi (1956), and Leib­
brand and Wettley (1961), calling our attention to the issues in
Plato of the difference between dialogue and dialectic, and its
implications for comparisons with psychoanalytic dialogue.
The works reviewed suffer, more or less, from a failure to
ascertain whether sufficient congruence between the over-all
configurations of the theories of these two men exists to war­
rant a meaningful 'compare and contrast' approach. If we con­
sider that there is a central underlying notion or structure
common to both thinkers, then the comparison is justified.
That underlying notion is that man is a creature in conflict,
that within himself he is split, and that he is split into a
higher, rational part, and a lower, desiring part. To the ex­
tent that this assumption is valid, and to the extent that the
two bodies of theory are congruent in regarding the study of
man in conflict as a central task, then it is useful and meaning­
ful to speak of similarities and differences.
How much of Plato Freud knew, and how he utilized that
knowledge in his own thinking, has no immediacy in this
argu ment. Plato can hardly be considered as an important
proximal source of Freud's thinking, and Freud was probably
not particularly steeped in Plato. It can be taken for granted
that the impact of Plato on all subsequent Western philoso­
phy and psychology is profound, but I do not wish to focus
on the issues of historical continuity and transmission of
ideas. What is in focus is the task of outlining certain similar
structures or forms in the theories of the two men and
'bracketing', so to speak, the historical issues.
The final justification for such an inquiry must come from
the results. For me, at least, this investigation has been a way
of sharpening the issue about what is original or radical in
Freud. The schema of conflict, the 'model', that is spelled out
94 BENNETI SIMON

in Plato is present in Freud as one building block or module.

Outlining its contours allows one to see more clearly the other
components of the edifice. Even more important is that this
type of examination highlights certain problems that are
entailed in the notion of the mind as divided. These problems
were not satisfactorily solved within Plato's thinking and, simi­
larly, an examination of Freud's changing thought over the
years suggests that he too struggled with a variety of possible
solutions. To anticipate the later discussion, a few of these is­
sues are: the place of affect; the problems subsumed under the
term 'sublimation'; the question of whether or not a conflict
psychology can speak in process terms that are not ultimately
anthropomorphic; and the issue of what kind of therapy
(dialogue) is needed to change an individual.
THE PLATONIC MODEL OF THE MIND AND THE
DIVISIONS WITHIN THE MIND1
By way of background, it is necessary to sketch some details of
the intellectual and cultural heritage that was available to
Plato. The way in which he worked- within these traditions
while simultaneously attempting some radical transformation
and reformulation of them, a fascinating and important
chapter in the history of Western thought, can here be only
briefly summarized. Socrates, Plato's master, and the princi­
pal speaker in all the Platonic dialogues, was born about
470 B.C. Plato was born in 427 B.C. and was twenty-eight at
the time of the trial and execution of Socrates. About a century
or so before the birth of Socrates, a heterogeneous group of
thinkers who were later called the 'pre-Socratics' or the 'pre­
Socratic philosophers' became active. This group included
Anaximander and Anaximanes, Thales, Heraclitus, Parmen­
ides, Anaxagoras, Empedocles, and others.2 The main features
of their activity were:
1 For a more detailed discussion of the material on Plato, see Simon (in press)
which also contains a more extensive bibliography.
s Anaxagoras and Parmenides were older contemporaries of Socrates, and are
not pre-Socratic in a chronologic sense.
PLATO AND FREUD 95

1. They began to develop the basic abstract and definitional

vocabulary of all subsequent philosophical, psychological, physi­
cal thought.
2. They characterized 'mind' or 'mental' (in fact, first began
to define the terms) as that which organizes, plans, and abstracts
the general from the particular.
3. They distinguished two modes of thinking and of dis­
course, in terms of dichotomies such as 'physiological' versns
'mythological', 'awake' versus 'asleep', and 'true being' versus
'being born and perishing'.
4. They asserted the superiority of the first kind of thinking
(which might for the moment be called 'rational abstracting').
5. They asserted the superiority of those who think abstractly,
(later to be called 'philosophers').'
Along with the work of these thinkers, Plato was very much
in touch with the intense concerns about moral and political
problems that permeated all of the cultural creations of fifth
century Athens. Issues of moral judgment and moral responsi­
bility, individual and collective impulsivity versus restraint,
and of man's potential for self-deception and self-destruction
were very much in the air. Greek tragedy, debates about law
and justice, and the teachings of the Sophists repeatedly and
often poignantly raised these issues. The political behavior of
Greece as a whole, including chronic fratricidal warfare, the
sequence of civic upheavals in Athens in 411 and 404, and the
subsequent execution of Socrates in 399, not only form the
background of Plato's work, but seem to provide much of the
observational data for his theories of human nature and hu­
man motivation.
Plato, then, worked with these two streams in Greek thought
-the effort of the pre-Socratics to crystallize and define ab­
stract, rational discourse and thinking, and the pressing ethi­
cal and moral issues of his day. In a most schematic way, we
can look at Plato as the one who defined the abstract and the
rational as equivalent to the moral good. He equated self-
a This exposition is derived largely from the work of Eric Havelock (1g65) in
Preface to Plato andother of his works.
96 BENNE'IT SIMON

knowledge with self-restraint, argued for an abstract con­

ception of both knowledge and virtue, and then proclaimed
that knowledge is virtue. In addition, he equated all these
terms (knowledge, virtue, etc.) with sanity, and proclaimed
that ignorance and the irrational were moral evils, and hence
madness.
The discussion that follows presents a highly condensed
version of Plato's thought. In reality, his thought underwent
considerable changes over the years, and each student of
Plato mus.t form his own judgment as to what is central and
essential in Plato.

The term that I am translating as 'mind' is psyche. No one

English word does it justice, largely because it did not have
one unambiguous meaning in Plato. It is fair to say that
much of Plato's philosophical activity was involved in the
task of defining and characterizing the psyche (despite the
impression one might get on a first reading of the dialogues
that he clearly knows what psyche is and takes it as a given
for purposes of further argument). The range of meanings
denoted and connoted by psyche is: 'soul', the immortal part
of the man, some sort of spiritual essence of man; something
essentially intellectual and knowing ('mind'); and the person
himself. (Freud's term, 'mental apparatus', is also a conno­
tation of psyche.) Be this as it may, for Plato, the important
features of psyche appear to be:
1. It is a structure-though not material, it is a 'something'
that is stable, and is composed of parts functioning in relation
to each other.
2. Psyche is described with a vocabulary of activity, rather
than passivity (e . g., susceptibility to influences from the out­
side and moved by outside influences-the characteristics of
mental life in Homer).' One of the terms that suggests this
activity is 'autokinesis'-psyche is self-moving.
�- Psyche has executive functions, takes command, organizes,
• Cf., Simon and Weiner (1966).
PLATO AND FREUD 97

and assimilates. Thus (Theatetus, 184 D), psyche exercises con­

trol over incoming sensations, digests them, determines their
fate inside the mind. Otherwise, the mind would soon be
filled up with sensations, as if it were a Trojan horse full of
warriors. In one description (Republic, 353 D), the rational
portion of psyche is in charge of 'management, rule, delibera­
tion, and other such tasks'. (It can be seen that this usage is very
much one sense of 'ego' in the structural theory.)
4. That which mind apprehends is nonphysical (or, at the
least, that which the unique and immortal part of psyche ap­
prehends is nonphysical). A notion of mental representation,
or varying degrees of representation, is implicit here. The mind
deals with a range of representations of the outer world from
almost literal and pictorial to verbal, ideational and proposi­
tional (Philebus, 38 C; Sophist, 261, ff; Theatetus, 190).
5. Also implied throughout Plato, or, more accurately, what
Plato's dialogues allow us ultimately to say, is that psyche
knows in a distinctive way-it dissects, abstracts, and defines
(i.e., mind performs the operations of dialectic).
6. The psyche is divided. Although the particulars of the
division of mind may vary from dialogue to dialogue (Plato is
aware that his schemata of division are tentative), there is one
consistent theme: a split between a higher and a lower part. In
brief, the higher part is more 'mental' and the lower part is
more 'somatic'. In the Phaedo where Plato treats the psyche as a
whole, it is viewed as divided from (and in conflict with) the
body as a whole. It should be emphasized that the divisions
imply, on the whole, conflict, but that the need for cooperation
between the parts frequently emerges as an issue.
In the scheme in The Republic, probably the most famous,
the division is basically between a rational (logistikon) and an
appetitive (epithumetikon), 'the desiring part'. The third
element is an affective, or 'spirited' portion, and each of the
other two parts tries to enlist this 'energic' part as its ally.
Plato constructs an image, or physical model, to convey his
sense of what these parts are: 1, 'A manifold and many­
headed beast' that has a ring of heads of tame and wild beasts
that can change them and cause to spring forth from itself all
98 BENNEIT SIMON

such growth (corresponding to the appetitive); 2, a lion (the

'spirited' or 'affective' portion); 3, a man, though much smaller
than the lion (the rational) (Republic, 588).
These three portions have different functions, and, in
fact, different relationships to the real world. In general,
throughout Plato, there is the assumption that the baser
portions of the psyche are suited to apprehend the baser
portions of the world and have different aims: e.g., the appeti­
tive part apprehends sensory perceptions, concrete, particu­
lar, mortal objects, and its aims are sensory and sensual grati­
fication. The rational portion is equipped for and is capable
of knowing the most general and the most abstract, the
timeless, the nonbodily, as epitomized in phrases such as
the 'forms' (Ideas) (cf., Timaeus, passim; The Republic, passim;
Phaedrus, 24 7 C). 'Becoming' versus 'being' is another expres­
sion of this contrast.
The contrasting attributes of higher and lower forms of
mental activity that can be extracted from the dialogues can
be summarized:
Baser Parts of Mind Versus Higher Parts of Mind
Appetitive Rational
Somatic Psychic
Being born and perishing True being
Opinion (doxa) True knowledge (episteme)
Pictorial, illusory Ideational
Shadow Sun
Asleep, dreaming Awake
Childish Adult
Imperative Delays
Imitation (mimesis) Abstract understanding
Flux Stability
Conflict Harmony
Heterosexual Homosexual-Asexual
Here, it seems to me, we have the fundamental model of
the mind in conflict. The model, which entered the main­
stream of Western thought with Plato, is the basis for the
PLATO AND FREUD 99
divisions within the mind that Freud uses in a clinical con­
text. One part of the mind thinks, and thinking includes
assessing reality; the other part desires and lusts. The part
that thinks is stable, adult, civilized; it is human and is organ­
ized according to rational assessment of possibilities, means,
and ends. The other part 'thinks' in a completely different
sense, in the language of desire and need, in pictures, and
with feelings more than with words and propositions, and is
shifting,_changeable, and tumultuous.
We have here also the fundamental distinction that Freud
describes with the terms secondary and primary process
thinking, and modes of discharge. In fact, the notion of
'bound' versus 'mobile' cathexes may be an articulation of an
image found in Plato (cf., Meno): 'Impressions' (opinion,
sensory impressions, nonabstract kinds of thoughts) run all
over the place, like little mechanical windup men. The higher
portion of the mind, through the operation of 'recollection'
(a schematizing and classifying activity) ties up, or binds,
these freely roaming mental contents, and can convert them
into episteme (abstract, organized knowledge). Thus, the
higher portion of mind tames, civilizes, and trains the unruly,
uncivilized parts of the mind. It is not enough to divide the
mind and stop there; the parts still live within the same
house, and must reach some modus vivendi. Plato's ideal may
be domination of the lower by the higher, but this still in­
volves a certain measure of cooperation.
In general, the contrast and conflict in Plato is between
some variant of reason and some variant of appetite. Each has
its own aims, interests, and characteristic way of thinking.
But Plato, especially in The Republic, is at pains to point out
that the issue is not reason versus emotion, even though
emotion somehow seems to have the stamp of appetite rather
than reason. The conceptual problem that Plato has to con­
tend with is inherent in dividing the mind-the need for
some energic term, something that drives the whole thing,
that makes it work. For Plato, the language and images are
100 BENNElT SIMON

more nakedly anthropomorphic: what would make the higher

part, the reasonable man within the manifold beast that is
man, what would make him want or desire to function in a
reasonable way? Or, in the more covertly anthropomorphic
language of machines, what drives the mental apparatus?
The Republic is the dialogue that emphasizes the need to
posit an affective, spirited, or energic part of the mind (the
lion in Plato's analogy). Also, it is this dialogue that is so
much involved with issues of how to get men to want to seek
the truth, to want to use the higher portion of the mind-in
short, the problem of education. This is the dialogue that
gives the first outline of a curriculum in the Western world.
It is a curriculum that has a clear progression from bodily
learning to the most abstract kinds of mental learning.
In other dialogues, most notably the Symposium, built
around the theme of Eros, or love, and the Phaedrus, built
around the theme of how to persuade men, we see that Eros
fills a theoretical position comparable to that filled by the
thumoeides, the spirited-affective portion. In the Symposium
particularly, Eros is the energic force for all human activity
from the base to the sublime. Eros drives us to love and lust,
it drives us to want to procreate both children and other forms
of posterity (institutions, governments, works of art, and
poetry), and to create. It also drives us to want to know, to
learn, and to approach the forms of the true, the good, and
the beautiful. What is the origin and nature of this love? Is
it originally from and of the bodily, or is it from the higher
spheres and has become corrupted? In Socrates's part of the
discourse on Eros, he invokes a number of mythlike and alle­
gorical statements about Eros, which all point to the inter­
mediate and mediating nature of Eros. It is neither human
nor divine; it is the child of Plenty and Poverty. These
statements signify that Plato does not wish to assign this
energic force as clearly originating either in the mental or the
somatic,· in the higher or the lower, but rather wishes to
leave it as an energic term, sharing in the operations of either
PLATO AND FREUD 101

and both. But, and the dialogues do not provide an entirely

satisfactory answer, exactly how is the love of abstract wisdom
(Philo-sophia = philosophy) related to appetitive loves and
lusts? It is now apparent why Freud so readily picks up the
suggestion (cf., Nachmansohn, 1915) of the similarity be­
tween Eros and libido. For Freud, libido is first and foremost
bodily, but one of its vicissitudes is sublimation, including
sublimation into seeking and curiosity. Thus, Freud discusses
"the relationship between scopophilic instincts and 'the instinct
for knowledge', and the child's need to know about the mysteries
of copulation and birth.

We can now begin to see how much is in fact entailed in

the model of the mind as split into a higher and a lower
part. For both Plato and Freud, it is not so much that this
split is specified as the starting point of theory construction;
rather it is that the split is a configuration that underlies their
formulations. From time to time, it surfaces in relatively ex­
plicit form, as in Freud's statement in The Ego and the Id,
quoted at the beginning of this essay. If we delineate the
several attempts that Freud made to construct a theory com­
patible with and useful for clinical purposes, we find group­
ings of motives and functions along the lines of the split.
Sometimes the language is more openly of motives and aims,
sometimes more in terms of mode of functioning. Thus, in the
distinction of conscious versus unconscious (as in The Inter­
pretation of Dreams) rationality, reality testing, delaying, think­
ing, verbalizing, and being awake are aligned with the con­
scious. Desiring, impulsivity, immediate gratification, the pic­
torial, and being asleep are aligned with the unconscious. The
distinction between secondary and primary process, referring
both to thinking and modes of discharge, embodies similar dis­
tinctions, though focusing more on mode of function than on
aim and motive.
In Freud's (1950 [1895]) Project for a Scientific Psychology,
we find the ego characterized as an organization of the mind
102 BENNE'IT SIMON

that binds, delays, filters, and transmutes the impulses that

are associated with relatively unstable neuronal systems.
This ego, among other tasks, makes memory possible by con­
verting perceptions into fixed memories. This view of ego
in the Project, and the discussion of the development of
thought by way of the hallucinated absent object in The In­
terpretation of Dreams, addresses the issue of how bodily im­
pulse and desire become transmuted into thought, judgment,
and other higher mental activities. Later, in 1910, Freud
articulated the distinction between ego instincts and sexual
instincts. The term instinct itself already carries with it a
connotation of a mixture of mind and body. The distinction
between ego instincts, more survival oriented and adapted to
reality testing, and sexual instincts, aimed at pleasure and
gratification, is another form of allocating to different parts
of the person different classes of motives. The later distinc­
tion between ego and id makes a more formal structural dis­
tinction between these two classes of functioning.
Similarly, the issues to which the terms 'sublimation', 'neu­
tralization', 'regression in the service of the ego' are addressed
should be seen in the context of this underlying split. Ques­
tions such as whether or not ego originates from id (versus
ego and id having separate origins from an undifferentiated
matrix), and whether or not there are separate energies for
the ego, also arise organically out of the need to understand
the modes of interaction of the divided parts of the mind.
The psychoanalytic terms are useful because they have made
explicit issues which are not fully articulated in the Platonic
discussions of how the different parts interrelate. Though
these terms hardly constitute adequate answers to the prob­
lems, they do define the questions; they serve as a framework
and as a set of directives for examining in detail some impor­
tant aspects of both normal and pathological functioning.
This split is not the only, or the major, determinant of
Freud's theories, but rather acts as a kind of constraint, pos-
PLATO AND FREUD

sibly a limiting condition to the types of formulations that can

be made.11
The language and major metaphors that attend the mind
are highly anthropomorphic. 6 The process terms are those of
the interaction of human agents; the various parts will and
wish, contend, cooperate, scheme and feud, and attempt to
outdo the other. Plato was attuned to this problem, though
he did not wish to be taken too literally; 'master of oneself
· does not really mean there are two people within the person.
Yet, he provided no alternate way of speaking. Recurrently in
the history of psychological theories, including psychoanalysis,
we find attempts to purge theories of anthropomorphic lan­
guage. But, as has been argued elsewhere (cf., Grossman
and Simon, 1969), when analyzing the person for purposes of
discussing moral issues, conflicts of wishes, and social controls,
anthropomorphic language creeps back in. (Like the prover,
bial devil, you can expel him with a pitchfork but he keeps
coming back.)
It was suggested to me by Professor Irwin that one should
consider Plato's divisions of the soul as basically divisions into
different classes of motivations; i.e., the divisions do not so
much analyze the functioning and functions of mind but ra­
ther outline the spectrum of motivations that drive human
behavior. This way of looking at Plato (and at Freud) is basi­
cally correct, provided one takes into account that the differ­
ent kinds of motivations may carry with them a characteristic
mode of functioning. The result is that the division of the
mind using the anthropomorphic language of conflicting aims
and motives is also a division of the mind into persons who
have different styles of operating.
Anthropomorphic language is ineluctable because the Pla­
tonic model relies heavily on introspective data, and intro-
a Cf., Grossman (1g67) , and Grossman and Simon (196g) for a discussion of
'bridge concepts' in analytic theory.
a In The Republic, of course, where the divisions of the mind are compared
to the divisions of the state, the term 'sociomorphic' is also appropriate.
104 BENNETI SIMON

spective data about behavior, conflicts, decisions, and quan•

daries is in the form of an inner dialogue. (Plato's definition of
thinking is of a conversation within.) In turn, the data of
introspection are much like a dialogue, both because the
method of investigation of the mind relies on dialogue be­
tween two or more people and because in normal develop­
ment the establishment, awareness, and definition of an inner
life is heavily dependent upon dialogue with others (cf.,
Grossman, 1967). To summarize, the Platonic model is of a
division between a rational and an irrational, or appetitive,
part of the mind. The model is found in Freud in both his
early and later formulations of conflict; namely, conscious
versus unconscious, secondary versus primary process, ego
instincts versus sexual instincts, and ego versus id.
With regard to the third term in Freud's tripartite model,
the superego, Freud, for clinical reasons, gradually came to
constitute the superego as a separate agency. In his earlier
writings, e.g., The Interpretation of Dreams, on the whole
moral functions are grouped with the rational, structured part
of the mind-that part which thinks and represents to the
person the claims of reality. Reality is described as a combi­
nation of physical and social reality, including the general
moral and ethical standards of the culture. The 'censor' of
dreams is at first not set up as a separate agency. For Plato,
this equation of moral good with true reality is not so casual
as it is for Freud. It is a foundation stone of Plato's thinking:
there is an absolute truth, the forms of the true, the good,
and the beautiful; moral good and the truth are inseparable.

DISTURBANCES OF MIND: WHAT IS SICKNESS?

WHAT IS MADNESS?
Although the Platonic and the freudian views of sickness and
madness are not identical, I wish to emphasize some impor­
tant similarities of Plato's notions to some of Freud's formu­
lations on sickness.
PLATO AND FREUD

First, madness and frenzy were far from alien to the con­
sciousness of fifth century Athenian life; Greek tragedy is full
of scenes of the hero in conflict and the hero who finally goes
mad. Euripides is probably most prominent in this respect,
but Aeschylus (lo in Prometheus Bound) and Sophocles
(Ajax) are certainly involved in the dramatic portrayal of
madness. Law and medicine, from a different perspective,
had to deal with extreme forms of madness, and in the fifth
century the doctors, for example, began to talk of madness in
more naturalistic and morally neutral terms. These trends
are part of the background of Plato's discussions of 'madness'
and 'sickness of the psyche'. The latter term, though not
coined by Plato, was certainly used by him far more than by
any other classical writer. Both terms, however, are frequent
in Plato in a variety of contexts, madness and its variants being
used quite matter-of-factly. But Plato effected a transforma­
tion of the notions of sicknesses of the soul and of treatment
of those sicknesses that went far beyond anything in the cul­
ture of his day. In brief, what is unique to Plato is that sanity
becomes equated with the highest abstracting and rational ac­
tivities, while madness becomes identified with the bodily, the
appetitive, and their associated forms of thinking (cf., p. 98).
'Seeming', shadow, lust, and being out of control are all
madnesses. Plato uses the term 'opinion' or 'seeming' (doxa),
for the thinking of the lower portions of the psyche. This
also corresponds to ordinary, everyday thinking; there is cor­
rect doxa (well established empirical knowledge and com­
mon sense) or bad doxa, but doxa is always inferior to
episteme. Doxa also seems to denote the equivalent of 'halluci­
nation' or illusion in other Greek authors.
Plato, like other Greeks of his time, equated health (and
sanity) with harmony, and disease and madness with lack of
harmony between the parts. This principle is inherent in
Freud's thinking about the balance between impulse and
restraint, wish and prohibition: too far one way, we have un­
restrained barbarism; too far the other way, we have neurosis.
106 BENNEIT SIMON

Plato, I believe, took a rather 'un-Hellenic' view of where

the balance should lie, in the direction of abstract reason
being the ruler and of passions being dominated and tamed.
Certainly Freud had a more positive view of the value of in­
stincts, and was more clearly impressed with the dangers of
excessive instinctual suppression. Nonetheless, the struggle
between instinct and reason, and this struggle in association
with the notion of sickness and malaise, reverberates through­
out Freud's writings. 'Where Id was, there shall ego be' is one
version of the goals of therapy. Analogously, in discussing the
malaise of civilization and its discontents (in The Future of
an Illusion and in the first chapters of Civilization and Its
Discontents), one sees the same model: culture demands
that men renounce instinctual gratifications, and men are
resentful and ever ready to throw off the yoke of civilization.
Culture must offer something to coat the bitter pill.7
But there is another aspect of Plato's definition of madness
and sickness of the psyche that is related to something very
fundamental and central in Freud, namely, the importance of
'ignorance'. 'Ignorance' in Plato is not accidental, or something
easily corrected by supplying knowledge, but is profound and
maintained by the vested interests of the person. (A common
Platonic term is aphrosune, 'folly', a mixture of ign orance and
madness.) For example, in an earlier dialogue (Hippias
Minor), Socrates asks his colleagues to 'heal my psyche, for
you will do me much greater good by putting an end to the
ignorance of my psyche, than if you put an end to an affliction
of my body'. 'Know thyself' and 'the unexamined life is not
worth living' are epitomes of Socratic values. Less well known
is Xenophon's summary of the Socratic position: 'Madness he
called the opposite of wisdom, though he did not go so far as
to equate ignorance with madness. Nevertheless, he did think
that not to know one's self and to imagine that one knows
things that he knows he does not know, this is the nearest
thing to out-and-out madness' (Memorabilia III, ix, 6).
, The second part of Civilization and Its Discontents introduces a radically
new version of the problem, involving the disguised operations of guilt.
PLATO AND FREUD 107

Over the course of the dialogues, one sees a shift from the
Socratic emphasis on self-knowledge to the Platonic emphasis
on knowledge of the forms, the absolutes of truth and virtue.
But I believe this is only a difference in emphasis. From both
viewpoints, ign orance is caused by, maintained by, or equated
with, the temporal, the illusionary and shifting, and the ap­
petites gone wild. Excess passion, narcissistic pride, the drive
for power, all of these may interfere with knowledge (e.g.,
self-knowledge) and are in themselves varieties of madness.
This notion of 'ignorance' is an important analogue to the
kinds of 'ignorance' of self discussed by Freud (e.g., hysteria­
not knowing because of not wanting to know). The impor­
tance of this comparison becomes even more striking as we
move now to a discussion of the treatment necessary to remove
the ignorance and replace it with knowledge. The notion of
how much work is involved and how much resistance there is
within the person to relinquish his blindness and ignorance is
common to both thinkers.
Thus Plato and Freud came upon the importance of 'ignor­
ance' in their working setting: Freud, in the analytic dialogue,
and Plato, in the philosophic dialogue. But this seems to follow
inevitably from splitting the psyche, or seeing the person as
split. One party within the person will deal with the other, uti­
lizing all the tricks he knows to keep the upper hand-threats,
persuasion, bribery, and, finally, out-and-out deception, a de­
ception appearing in the guise of ignorance.
TREATMENT
In the Phaedrus, Socrates listened politely for a moment as his
companion discoursed upon the beauty of the setting in which
they were walking and detailed some local mythology. He
gave naturalistic explanations of these myths, having expected
Socrates to approve of his dismissal of magic and divine hocus­
pocus as a way of thinking that befits a rational man and a
philosopher. Socrates, however, exclaimed:
Now I have no leisure for such enquiries; shall I tell you why:
I must first know myself, as the Delphian inscription says; to
108 BENNE'IT SIMON

be curious about that which is not my concern, while I am still

in ignorance of my own self would be ridiculous . . . am I
a monster more complicated and swollen with passion than
the serpent Typho, or a creature of a gentler and simpler sort?
Oowett, 1937, V ol. I , p. 235.)
But what is the method by which a man can come to know
himself, or know the realm of 'ideas' and of 'true being'? The
method is at first dialogue, but gradually moves into dialectic.
In this transition from dialogue to dialectic, which can be
documented within Plato's writings, we can again find an
essential point of comparison to the kind of dialogue that
evolved as the psychoanalytic method. What is common to the
two, above and beyond the surface comparison of people talk­
ing with each other, is the kind of problem encountered in
the course of one man trying to make another understand
something which he ought to be able to understand but can­
not.
For Plato dialogue is a conversation or exchange between
two people (or a few people). In the earliest Platonic dia­
logues, where we probably have best preserved the picture
of Socrates at work, we find Socrates adducing logical proofs
for his arguments and trying to lead his companion with him
on the path to truth and understanding. It is equally obvious
that he charms, persuades, and seduces, not to mention that he
ridicules, confounds, and forces his opponent (or friend!) to
feel most uncomfortable. His words are 'magic charms', 'heal­
ing herbs'-all in the venerable tradition of the poet, story
teller, sorcerer, and shaman, as a healer of hurt and bringer of
truth. Socrates is also the gadfly and an electric eel. Thus
what we see is the beginning of a general philosophical
method, but even more, the portrayal of 'Socrates question­
ing'. The method is the man-at-work.
As one moves to the middle and later dialogues, one sees
Plato developing and refining a general method of inquiry,
the dialectic. Dialectic involves dialogue, but it is a method
of questioning and answering; dividing, defining, categoriz-
PLATO AND FREUD 109

ing, and abstracting. Certain ground rules seem to determine

the form of the inquiry. Questions are posed to allow, opti­
mally, for only a 'yes' or 'no' answer. Often there is a reductio
ad absurdum at the end of the argument, and one man in the
argument yields to the other. Its aim is to arrive at a certain
fixity and clarity, to define the various and changeable aspects
of the phenomenal world, the world of 'becoming'. Dialectic
is a tool by means of which one can construct bridges between
the world of being born and dying and the world of true be­
ing; the realm of 'what seems' and 'what is true'. Dialectic
differs radically from dialogue in that the latter relies heavily
on various 'rhetorical' emotions: persuasion, seduction, an ap­
peal to identification with the speaker, and, at its worst, a
pandering to irrational fears. Dialectic aims to uncover and
fix what is true, not to cajole. 'Eristic', the art of verbal con­
tending in order to win (a variant of the gymnastic contests of
which the Greeks were so fond), is alien to the spirit of dialec­
tic. In short, Plato attempted to define an interactional method
of seeking truth which would bypass and exclude the kinds of
wishes more characteristic of the 'appetitive' parts of the
mind: the wish to conquer, to seduce, or to humiliate.
But if dialectic is to operate without these ordinary motives
that men have to engage in argument, is it to operate without
any emotion at all? Here we are back at the problem of
what drives the higher portion of the mind. The emotions
involved in dialectic are, for example, surprise, frustration
over a knotty problem, shame at not knowing, a sense of
impasse (aporia), and the discomfort that comes from dis­
covering contradictions within one's own beliefs. The pleasure
that comes with solving a problem is an allowable emotion.
But are not these 'academic' emotions a bit too pale, too re­
fined? Perhaps, but anything stronger interferes, and any­
thing weaker will hardly suffice to produce the turmoil
within the soul that is necessary if the soul is to seek the
truth. It is not a passive process, but it must produce discom­
fort. Dialectic is not soothing as are the mellifluous songs of
110 BENNE1T SIMON

the poet, or the rhetoric of the gifted orator; it is disruptive

and irritating. Plato's hope is that when men are truly in­
volved in, and committed to, the dialectical process 'they
grow angry with themselves and gentler towards others'. The
myth of the Cave, in The Republic, spells out most clearly
the ideal that the discovery and sight of truth is as uncomfort­
able as the cave dweller coming out into the bright sunlight.

Dialectics is not an early form of psychoanalysis, or its pre­

cursor. Only in some very general sense is this so, and one can
focus on the similarities or the obvious differences at will.
One of the important differences is the degree to which Plato
values one extreme end of the spectrum of different admix­
tures of thinking and feeling, namely, episteme, abstract, gen­
eral, and dialectical kinds of thinking. But both Plato and
Freud feel the need to come to terms with the mixture of
intellectual and emotional forces that are stirred up in the
attempt through dialogue to 'know thyself'. The common
problem is how to devise a method, a tool, that while not in­
dependent of the personality of the person using it, can in
principle be taught and used in the hands of many. The other
common problem is to properly channel emotions and im­
pulses, both because they are needed to give an impetus to the
inquiry and because they are needed to provide a sense of con­
viction about the truth. 'Only dialectic writes in the hearts of
men' summarizes the Platonic ideal, and the Platonic prob­
lem. Both dialectics and analysis need to bring together, and
to bring into greater harmony, the conflicting parts of the
person.
An integral part of the conception of both dialectics and
analysis is the split between the two members of the dyad. In­
terestingly enough, this split, between doctor and patient or
between teacher and student, is constructed along the lines of
the splits within the psyche. For Plato, the philosopher is to
the rest of mankind as the rational part of the psyche is to the
appetitive. In Freud, we similarly detect a trend to equate the
PLATO AND FREUD 111

doctor with the ego, and the patient with the irrational, or the
id. In discussing the transference, Freud (1912) writes:
This struggle between the doctor and the patient, between
intellect and instinctual life, between understanding and seek­
ing to act ...(p. 108).
Note the equation implied here: doctor is to patient as intel­
lect is to instinct. Both analysis and dialectics seek to reduce
this gap, to bridge the gulf. The student or the patient
should ultimately learn to do for himself what at first he was
able to do only with the aid of the teacher or the doctor.
Thus, the experience of the participants in the dialogue
is intimately related to the theoretical framework of a split
within the mind. The theoretical model of the mind is the
model of the minds of men as they appear in dialogue. The
working setting of a dialogue provides the most vivid and
immediate instances of the problem of reason versus emotion,
rational versus irrational, and thought versus action. In the
process of dialogue, impediments and resistances arise to
the seeking of truth. Plato speaks of aporia, impasse; partici­
pants in the Platonic dialogues become dismayed, confused, or
even embarrassed and blush. Though the conceptualization
and method of exploring these blocks are quite different in
Freud, the observation that they exist is common to both.
There is a man within the man, who is working at cross pur­
poses to the man himself.s
B A good case can be made that, at least for some of the dialogues, especially
The Republic, the structure of the dialogue-Le., the parts played by several
participants in the dialogue-parallels the divisions of the mind. This view,
most recently argued by Alan Bloom (1968) in his translation and commentary
on The Republic, has much merit, if one does not attempt to hold Plato to
it too literally. Thus, Thrasymachus, who argues that justice equals that which
the most powerful can do and get away with, represents (or better, illustrates)
the operations of the appetitive part of the psyche. Glaucon is 'erotic', or
passionate; always eager and enthusiastic, he must be gently led and trained
rather than subdued or tamed. Looking at the dialogue in this manner, one
can then see that there is an isomorphism of the parts of the psyche, the parts
of the state, and the participants of the dialogue. This view of the dramatic
lU BENNETI SIMON

To sum up, my thesis is that the similarity in model in

Plato and Freud involves the following interrelated factors:
1. Each comes to see the study of man in conflict, and espe­
cially in self-destructive conflict, as central to his working task.
When man is in conflict, two parts of him are in opposition
to each other.
a. The nature of the working situation, a form of dialogue
seeking to establish truth, confronts the participants with the
facts of man in conflict with himself and with another.
3. Both thinkers draw upon introspective data, the data of
internal dialogue which seems to confirm the existence of con­
flicting portions within the mind.
4. In each case the theory is developed from the perspective
of the leader in the dialogue, and tends to construct the split
within the dialogue along the lines of the split within the mind.
5. Plato's theories of mind are accounts of the mind as an
instrument that can engage in dialectic. Freud's theories are
accounts of the mind that can engage in psychoanalysis,
either as patient or as doctor.
These two thinkers approach the world with a certain
schema: everywhere they see conflict, within the mind,
among men, in the political world, etc. Their schema also
involves a sense of a higher and a lower order, each of which
seeks dominance over the other. Where should we begin to
look for the 'source' of this outlook? What is the 'model' for
the 'model'? One interesting answer, more obvious for Plato
than for Freud, is that the prevailing forms of political or­
ganization provide the basis of the divisions of the mind. This
view would lead us to suggest that the divisions in Greek
society, especially those between master and slave (or among
the social classes), provide the model. One could argue that

structure of the dialogue leaves another question unanswered: is this conscious

artifice on Plato's part, or is it largely unconscious? I find the latter more
appealing, but both are possible and compatible with the belief that Plato
wrote dramas in his youth, before he came under the influence of Soaate1
(Randall, 1970).
PLATO AND FREUD

The Republic presents a somewhat idealized picture of the so­

cial structure of a Greek state, especially one such as Sparta.9
Where is the political or social framework apparent for
Freud? In fact, it is ubiquitous in Freud, and appears in a
variety of forms. In The Resistances to Psycho-Analysis,
Freud (1925 [1924]) says:
Human civilization rests upon two pillars, of which one is the
control of natural forces, and the other the restriction of our
instincts. The ruler's throne rests upon fettered slaves. Among
the instinctual components which are thus brought into service,
the sexual instincts, in the narrower sense of the word, are
conspicuous for their strength and savagery. Woe, i f they
should be set loose! The throne would be overturned and the
ruler trampled under foot (p. 219).
This passage is preceded by a paragraph in which Freud ap­
provingly compares Plato's Eros with his notion of libido.
Second, even The Interpretation of Dreams, most famous for
iu mechanical and physical models of the dreaming process, is
replete with a number of political, social, and economic anal­
ogies. For instance, the dream censor operates like the postal
censor (Freud, 1900-1901, pp. 142-143, n.). Psychic agency (In­
stanz) is an agency, in the sense of a government agency or
bureau. Also throughout his career Freud devotes much atten­
tion to the question of the relationships between mind and
human society, and mind and human history.
This line of argument is an interesting one and might de­
serve further investigation, particularly in the case of Freud.
But it is misleading to think of the political structure as the
basic model for the structure of the mind primarily because
the 'political structure' itself is a product of a mind, or minds
that are structuring and construing the facts of social life in
terms of a particular schema.
Another likely source of this model of mind suggests itself:
the relation between child and parents. The parent is the ra­
• Cf., Gouldner's (1965) Enter Plato, which makes a strong case for this kind
of argument.
BENNEIT SIMON

tional and the child the appetitive. At times they are in con­
flict and at times cooperating. But here, too, it is obvious that
this is only one version of parent-child relationships and is un­
doubtedly a reflection of, or a product of, a particular cultural
attitude toward children, albeit a widespread attitude.
We are forced into a verdict of non licet. For, all we can say
is that there is a complex interplay among three kinds of
structures: (a) the structure, or model, that exists in the
mind of the theory maker and that he imposes upon the phe­
nomena he studies; (b) structures, or models, that are widely
held within a culture, and by means of which that culture
construes and constructs the world around it; (c) structures that
in some way or another may 'actually' exist (i.e., it is possible
that some models of the phenomenal world do correspond to
structures inherent in the phenomena).10
For Freud, particularly in his earlier writings, the dominant
view, though not the only one, is that the structure of the
mind is a given, and the schema of the divisions of the mind
(not just the contents of mind) are projected onto the outer
world and are reflected in the cultural creations of man, e.g.,
in myth, religion, and philosophical systems. This notion,
particularly as it appears in relation to Freud's concept of
endopsychic perception, has been discussed in Grossman and
Simon (1969). In The Psychopathology of Everyday Life, Freud
( 1901) argues that it is the task of psychology to translate
'metaphysics into metapsychology' (p. 258), i.e., to read out
from the philosophical creations of man's mind facts about
the actual structure of the mind. This position may be true,
for all we know, but the main objection to it lies in the way it
has been used. In Freud, for example, if one follows this no­
tion up to about 1920, one sees several different versions of
what is the actual structure of the mind, and accordingly sev­
eral different versions of which schema of the mind we ought
10 For some clarification and analysis of these issues, see Piaget's (1970}
Structuralism, especially his discussion of L�vi-Strauss (pp. 1o6-119).
PLATO AND FREUD

to be looking for in the creations of culture (e.g., the distinc­

tion between conscious and unconscious; the division between
ego, id, and superego, etc.).11
The schema of conflict is in the mind of the thinker, and
we do not know how to give a definitive account of how that
schema got there. Tangentially one can consider what may be
common to the personal psychology of men who have this sensi­
tivity to the existence of conflict and are prone to see it every­
where in their world. I will venture a rather speculative
hypothesis, based in part on Freud's own account of how, in
his self-analysis, he came to discover the importance of the
c:edipal conflicts.
For Freud, it was important that there was an unusual con­
figuration, two much older stepbrothers, the children of his
father's previous marriage, and a father who was old enough to
be his grandfather. For Plato we have precious little reliable
biographical and autobiographical material, but it is gener­
ally accepted as true that his father died sometime in his
youth, that his mother remarried (her mother's brother),
and that from that union came a younger half brother, named
Antiphon. Plato's stepfather, Pyrilampus, had an older son by a
previous marriage. Plato's own mother and father had three
other children: two sons, Glaucon and Adeimantus, and a
daughter; the birth order of the children is not known. 12
Plato, of course, did not explicitly know of and label the
c:edipal conflicts, but throughout his dialogues there are re­
peated references to parricidal and incestuous wishes, both ex­
plicitly stated and in disguised form (e.g., such as the myth of
Gyges in The Republic: Gyges becomes invisible, sneaks into
the bedchamber of the Queen and seduces her, slays the king,

11 Recently a line of argument similar to Freud's has been presented in an

intriguing paper by Devereux (1970) on The Structure of Tragedy and the
Structure of the Psyche in .Aristotle's Poetics. Though his observations are valid
and quite fascinating, this conceptual framework is open to question.
12 C/., Taylor (1952), pp. 1·2,
u6 BENNE1T SIMON

and steals the kingdom). 13 It is also of interest that although

Plato himself never appears in the dialogues (his name is
mentioned only twice; once to explain that he was ill and
could not be present at the death of Socrates!), his brothers
appear as principal speakers in The Republic, the dialogue that
proposes eliminating the family! His brothers and his half
brother appear again in The Parmenides, a dialogue which
deals, at the level of problems in logic, with the complexities
of relations among the forms, including issues of similarity,
relationship, and identity.
I suggest that for both Freud and Plato some atypical feature
in the family constellation, perhaps centering particularly
around redipal conflicts, served as a kind of catalyst to their
awareness of conflicts of wishes and desires as a ubiquitous
feature of human life.
Another feature of the style of thinking and of viewing the
world that characterizes both men is the thinking in schemata,
or rather searching for similar schemata in diverse phenom­
ena. One might call this arguing by analogy, or seeking to
discover by analogy, such as comparing the soul to the state,
or comparing the history of the Jewish people to the develop­
mental sequence of the human child, but the term 'analogy'
is not quite adequate. I referred above to the 'isomorphism',
i.e., the assumption that there exist similar configurations
much as if there were similar triangles that had to be matched.
In Freud, more than in Plato, we also see the notion that con­
temporary patterns in the life of the adult have a history, and
that history consists of earlier versions of the pattern. If one sees
an inexplicable piece of behavior in the adult, seek out an
infantile configuration that will illuminate the adult one,
seek out the redipal triangle which explicates the current
adult triangles, etc. Both for Freud and Plato, the method of
11 Compare Plato's account with that of Herodotus (Bk. I, 7), who tells the
story engagingly and with some psychological acumen which Plato may have
picked up. Cf., Rosenbaum and Rossi (1971): Herodotus: Observer of s,xual
Psychopathology.
PLATO AND FREUD

deducing the structure of the unknown from a structure of

the known, and then moving back and forth between the two,
is fundamental and far-reaching. Is there some intrinsic con­
nection between their readiness to see a schema of conflict,
and their readiness to seek out schemata? Did the experience of
the somewhat atypical family constellation for each catalyze
not only an awareness of conflict but also an awareness of con­
figuration? I can only offer this point as a suggestive lead,
without promising that it will lead anywhere.

SOME COMMENTS ON· THE DIFFERENCES

BETWEEN PLATO AND FREUD
To this point, I have emphasized what I consider the core of
commonality between Plato and Freud: their use of a certain
model of mind with its attendant definition of conflict. Fur­
ther, each of these men came upon a core of similar problems,
namely, those issues arising from the split between instinct
and reason. Thus, though similar problems have to be dealt
with, the proposed solutions and resolutions may be quite
disparate.
First, let me reiterate the obvious. Freud is first and fore­
most a clinician, and his most original and enduring con­
tributions are not those to be found in his philosophical state­
ments, in his Weltanschauung. From this perspective there is
simply no way to meaningfully compare and contrast the two
thinkers. The method of free association and interpretation
stands at the heart of Freud's work. The concepts of deriva­
tives, vicissitudes of the instinct, and the notions of defense, as
well as the central role of interpretation of the transference,
go far beyond what any of his clinical, philosophical, or poetic
forebears had devised. However, assuming some significant de­
gree of 'commensurability' between the two, one should try to
pinpoint some of the profound differences.
The most profound difference is in the attitude that each
has toward conflict. As mentioned above, both thinkers are
characterized by an unusual seasitivity to the existence of
118 BENNEIT SIMON

conflict, contradiction, paradox, irony, etc. For Freud, this

is the basic given of our existence; although one can do better
or worse in the handling of one's conflicts or one can yearn for
utopian solutions, the likelihood is that conflict is inevitable,
as is some measure of unhappiness. One of his early statements
about the 'cure' of hysteria is that we must assist our neurotic
patients to surrender their exotic sufferings and accept the
everyday unhappinesses in life.
Plato recognizes the ubiquitous nature of conflict but he is
not prepared to accept it. He not only has a wish and great
yearning to eliminate conflict, but he also has a plan. For
Plato, the solutions of many different kinds of difficulties clus­
ter around the notion: eliminate contradiction, ambiguity,
and conflict. Justice is each person doing one thing and not
several; justice is each class of the city performing only one
function. The myths that the Greeks loved so dearly, and
which they used as bedtime stories and fairy tales for their
children, had to be eliminated: they fostered contradiction
and disharmony. Harmony in Plato sometimes suggests a har­
monious arrangement of conflicting forces, but more typically
it conveys a sense of each element kept separate and distinct,
and then, in some way, harmonized (e.g., Symposium, 187).
For Plato, in the ideal city state of The Republic, rivalry,
contest, and all the emotions that attend them must be min­
imized or eliminated. Men and women should be equalized;
biological differences must be played down. His most far­
reaching suggestion for reform of the city involves eliminat­
ing the family, at least, the family of the guardian class. Let
no man know who is the biological mother or father or
sister or brother; let the definition of these relationships be
bureaucratized-the polis is the mother from which the chil­
dren spring. Though this is not spelled out explicitly in Plato,
implicitly the family is the seat of trouble. I have stated else­
where (Simon, in press) that one can find in Plato the imagery
of a combative primal scene fantasy, and that this imagery is
what attends his definitions of evil and madness (cf., Bradley,
PLATO AND FREUD 119

1967). It is as if Plato argues that if man is engendered in a

setting of a confused, combative, nighttime madness, how
can we expect anything better of him? Hence, we see in
Plato expressions of a wish to find a better way to engender
children than through intercourse.
Plato's objections to Horner and to Greek tragedy rests in
part on a subtle awareness of the great poets' reliance upon
and exploitation of multiple identifications, and shifting and
fluctuating roles of the players.a Plato, in this respect, is very
un-Hellenic in his antagonism to conflict and ambiguity. For
Plato conflict is very much tied up with that which the body
demands and requires, and his antagonism to conflict goes
hand in glove with his downgrading of the body.
From these considerations about two antithetical attitudes
toward conflict, we may take a look at what I consider a con­
spicuous absence in Plato. I refer to some notion of a super­
ego, or conscience, that can be in conflict with the ego, not
just with the id; the idea that man might suffer from guilt
and that a moral agency within the person can act as a fifth
column which can destroy the person. Plato is not to be
faulted for failing to discover and articulate such a concept; in
fact, he probably could not have accepted this idea very easily
even if he had read Freud. The theme of suffering from irra­
tional guilt was very much 'in the air' in Plato's day, particu­
larly in Euripides, and Plato needed to ign ore it.
The notion of the inevitability of conflict derives from the
idea of the indestructibility of the infantile wishes and the ob­
jects of those wishes. This already carries with it the sense of
internalization of the objects as experienced by the child in the
course of development. As the moral, controlling, frustrating,
and approving aspects of these objects are represented inter­
nally, the representations are attended by the mixture of love
and hate, aggression and libido, etc., that the child experiences
in relation to the parents.

H Cf., Havcloclt (196s), Preface to Plato.

120 BENNEIT SIMON

Plato seems to recognize that early moral upbringing can

be riddled with every kind of ambivalence, but he is horrified
by this fact and has a tremendous need to get around it, or to
do away with its consequences. Freud's ideas about superego
require an agency within the mind that can harbor both love
and hate toward the person himself. Plato sees the ultimate
sources of moral values as exterior to man, as the Forms of the
True, the Good, etc. They are untainted by hatred and ag­
gression. These negative affects are relegated to the body and
its demands; the ambivalence is split.
In conclusion, this essay can· only be a beginning compara­
tive study of these two thinkers. Much in the complexity of
Plato has been ignored, and much in Freud has to be under­
stood within a framework of philosophies that go far beyond
the Platonic. Here the work of Paul Ricoeur (1970) is extremely
intricate and illuminating. But perhaps the method of seeking
for similar forms, despite some heavy handedness in the way
that I have applied it in this paper, can stimulate others to a
more extended and richer understanding of Plato and Freud.

BIBLIOGRAPHY
AMADO LEVY·VALENSI, ELAINE (1956): Verite et langage du dialogue platonicien
au dialogue psychanalytique. La Psychanalyse, I, pp. 257-274.
BLOOM, ALAN (1968): The Republic of Plato (translation with notes and Inter•
pretative Essay). New York: Basic Books, Inc.
BR.ADLEY, NOEL (1967): Primal Scene Experience in Human Evolution and Its
Phantasy Derivatives in Art, Proto-Science and Philosophy. In: The Psy·
choanalytic Study of Society, Vol. IV. Edited by Warner Muensterberger
and Sidney Axelrad. New York: International Universities Press, Inc., pp.
34-79.
DEVEREUX, c:r:011cE (1970): The Structure of Tragedy and the Structure of the
Psyche in Aristotle's Poetics. In: Psychoanalysis and Philosophy. Edited by
Charles Hanly and Morris Lazerowitz. New York: International Uni­
versities Press, Inc., pp. 46-75.
DODDS, l':lllC It.. (1951): The Greeks and the Irrational. Berkeley: University of
California Press.
FOUCAULT, MICHE:L (1965): Madness and Civiliwtion. A History of Insanity in
the Age of Reason. New York: Pantheon Books.
PLATO AND FREUD 121

FllEUD (1900-1901): The Interpretation of Dreams. Standard Edition, 'IVfV.

-- (1go1): The Psychopathology of Everyday Life. Standard Edition, VI.
-- (1905): Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality. Standard Edition, VII,
pp. lll5·24ll•
-- (1910): The Psycho-Analytic View of Psychogenic Disturbance of Vision.
Standard Edition, XI, pp. 211-u8.
-- (1912): The Dynamics of Transference. Standard Edition, XII, pp. 99-1o8.
-·- (19211): The Ego and the Id. Standard Edition, XIX, pp. 111·66.
-- (1925 [1924]): The Resistances to Psycho-Analysis. Standard Edition, XIX,
pp. 2 llJ·22lt.
-- (1950 [1895]): Project for a Scientific Psychology. Standard Edition, I,
pp. 295-1187.
GEORGIADES, PATR.lCE (19114): De Freud tl Platon. Paris: Bibliotheque-Charpentier.
COULDNEll, ALVIN (1965): Enter Plato: Classical Greece and the Origins of Social
Theory. New York: Ba�ic Books, Inc.
CROSSMAN, WILLIAM 1. (1967): Reflections on the Relationships of Introspection
and Psycho-Analysis. Int. J. Psa., XLVIII, pp. 16-111.
-- and SIMON, BENNETI (1969): Anthropomorphism: Motive, Meaning, and
Causality in Psychoanalytic Theory. In: The Psychoanalytic Study of tht1
Child, Vol. XXIV. New York: International Universities Press, Inc., pp.
78-111.
HAVELOCK., Ellie A. (19611): Preface to Plato. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University
Press.
JOWE'IT, BENJAMIN (19!17): The Dialogues of Plato, Yols. I and 11 (translation),
New York: Random House.
OLSEN, HANS (1942): Platonic Love. The American Imago, III, pp. 1-110.
1tuuc, c. s.. and RAVEN, J. E. (1962): The Pre-Socratic Philosophers. London:
Cambridge University Press.
LAIN·ENTllALCO, PEDRO (1970): The Therapy of the Word in Classical Antiquity.
New Haven: Yale University Press.
LEIBBRAND, WERNER and WE'ln.EY, A. (1961): Der Wahnsinn. Freiberg, Germany:
K. Alber.
NACHMANSOHN, MAX (1915): Freuds Libidotheorie verglichen mit de, Eroslehr•
Platos. Int. Ztschr. f. Psa., III, pp. 65-811.
PFJSTEll, osltAR (1922): Plato: A Fore-Runner of Psycho-Analysis. Int. J. Paa.,
III, pp. i6g-174.
PIAGET, JEAN (1970): Structuralism. New York: Basic Books, Inc.
RANDALL, JOHN HERMAN, JR. (1970): Plato: Dramatist of the Life of Reason. New
York: Columbia University Press.
RICOEU., PAUL (1970): Freud and Philosophy. An Essay on Interpretation. New
Haven: Yale University Press.
ROSENBAUM, C. P. and ROSSI, R. (1971): Herodotus: Observer of Sexual Psycho­
pathology. Amer. Imago, XXVIII, pp. 71-78.
RUSSO, JOSEPH and SIMON, BENNElT (1968): Homeric Psychology and the Oral Epic
Tradition. J. Hist. of Ideas, XXIX, pp. 4811·4g8.
122 BENNETI SIMON

(In p ress): Models of Mind and Mental Illness in Ancient Greece:

SIMON, BENNETJ'
11. The Platonic Model. J. Hist. Behavioral Sciences.
--- and WEINER, HERBERT (1966): Models of Mind and Mental Illness in An·
cient Greece: I. The Homeric Model of Mind. J. Hist. Behavioral Sciences,
II, pp. !10!1·!11 4.
TAYLOR, A. E. (1952): Plato: The Man and His Work. Cleveland: World Publish·
ing Co.
XENOPHON: Memorabilia. Translated by E. C. Marchant. Loeb Classical Library.
Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 192!1,