"The Three Part Soul" by G. R. F. Ferrari

In “The Three Part Soul,” G. R. F. Ferrari examines the structure of the Platonic soul as it appears earlier in Book IV and later in Books VIII and IX. He argues that the difference between the two depictions of the three part souls is the presence of the philosophic element in the later depiction. While Book IV describes the just soul, Books VIII and XI describe the wise one. This distinction is key for Ferrari. Firstly, the introduction of the philosophic element changes the calculating part of the soul and its authority over the other parts. With philosophy, the calculating part now has its own object of desire, wisdom, while previously it was only a tool in service to the other two parts as a supervisor. This, Ferrari argues, is not enough for a truly happy soul. This is the distinction that he examines, and he insists that this distinction is all important. If “we fail to ask ourselves why Plato chose to picture the three-part soul so differently at the different stages,” then “we will fail to understand what it is about the philosopher that makes him superior even to the just man” (167).

The first part of the essay is dedicated to explicating the initial description of the three-part soul from Book IV and pointing to issues that are problematic within the soul that foreshadow how this just soul will be proven inferior to the philosophic. His first observation is that the soul is shaped by conflicts, particularly the “inclination toward some action and a pulling back from that same action” (168). It is through such conflicts that the three parts of the soul are originally discovered and distinguished from one another. Ferrari examines this point and observes that a problematic conclusion for the health of the soul can be drawn from this. Namely, “the soul whose elements are revealed by a principle of conflict turns out… to be a soul susceptible to the particular kind of inner conflict that is weakness of will” (169). In other words, our reason is easily defeated by a desire that is the more powerful motivator, and that possibility always exists in a soul predicated on conflict.

Similarly, an issue with this original description of the soul is that it seems to be based around the spirited element, even if led by the calculating element. This is partially caused by the fact that the calculating element is originally dependent, or, as Ferrari remarks, “the actions of the calculative part are attractive because the actions it resists are not,” but it is not evident if the actions of the calculative part are attractive independently (170). There simply isn’t information provided in the Book IV description of the soul that describes how the goals of the calculative part are distinct and good, beyond merely supervising the other elements. Socrates’ argument “has not yet revealed that it is their goals, not merely their tactics” that divide the parts of the soul (171). To illustrate these points, Ferrari points to the examples Socrates uses to divide the soul into parts. In the examples of the thirsty man and Odysseus, the actions of the calculative part are attractive because they prevent something undesirable. Additionally, in these examples the spirited and the calculative parts do not appear to be “fundamentally rather than superficially distinct, for their goals are not distinct” (172). In these examples it is not totally clear that “an individual’s calculative part is in control… the source of the control is more diffuse” (173).  

As such, the calculative part needs a certain education and acculturation to give it “a boost in the right direction” (174).

Ferrari takes a brief interlude to consider how the Platonic soul is similar to Freud’s three-part psychology of the Id, Ego, and Superego. Ferrari does so in order to clarify his argument about the potential for problems in the perfectly just soul. In Freud’s three part system, the parts are also divided on the basis of conflict. In particular, the Ego develops to control the desires of the Id, and the Superego parallelly develops to control the oedipal desires of the Ego. Additionally, the Superego in Freud’s account, like the calculative element in Plato’s, “ends up being cast primarily as a negotiator or manager, without independent goals” (178). However, the key difference is that Freud’s model suffers constantly from internal pressure, while the Platonic soul is meant to achieve harmony and “the just man at the end of Book IV is an individual who is not only ruler or himself but also a friend of himself” (178).

However, this account does match up to one image in Plato. The internal pressure of Freud’s soul matches that of the decent man in Book X. That is the man is described as refusing to mourn or display emotion publicly, yet he releases such emotion profusely at the theater. In order to restrain himself in public situations, this man must be under a great deal of internal pressure, and it is this pressure that is released while watching dramatic performances. Similarly, the soul in Freud’s system is also in constant temptation to give into the internal pressure and display his repressed desires. The example of Leontius, who exults over looking at corpses, also seems to display this inner tensions. Such a man stands in contrast to the perfectly just soul. The former’s soul is balanced as it is under control, but, unlike the perfectly just man, his inner harmony is produced in a state of intense pressure. Tension is still present in the just man’s soul, as the spirited element is strong and central, but it is a different form of tension. Ferrari goes on to clarify these two different inner tensions and harmonies. The harmony “within the just man’s soul is a lyre’s harmony: the strings that represent the parts of the soul are not in tension with each other but stand in mathematical relation to one another,” yet there is “tension at a second remove: maintaining the correct tension in each string” (188). On the other hand, “the harmony of the Freudian soul and of the decent man in Book X… is the harmony of the bow” (188). This tension is closer to the surface, and requires constant maintenance.

From here, Ferrari shifts his focus to the soul described later in the Republic, which has a philosophic element. He first considers their character and education. What makes this soul unique is that the calculative element “is led by a true passion” for wisdom, and this passion is “the fundamental basis of its sway over the other elements” because this passion is all consuming and causes the other parts of the soul to atrophy (192). However, this places the soul in danger to particular temptations. The wise soul must be wary of indulgence and pride, for “the wrong sort of upbringing will spur such a character to excesses beyond comparison” and “the wrong sort of political environment” will spur him to political ambition. Ferrari also notes that there may be little or no difference to the wise man’s outer behavior, but “within his soul there is now something worth preserving for itself rather than simply because of its place in the whole, something independently precious” (194). Lastly, the harmony of the philosopher's soul is also of a different type, and it transcends the problems of the previous just soul; in fact, “it is no harmony at all,” due to the powerful love of wisdom,  but it is peaceful because “the wise man will make it his business to care for each element in his soul and to foster the best possible arrangement for those elements” (193).

Ferrari concludes by arguing that the attention paid to the other parts of the soul by the wise man is not instrumental. This distinction is important because acting for the interest of the practitioner, the wise man, instead of in the interest of on who it operates, is “no better than Thrasymachus’ shepard in Book I” (196). Instead, the wise man is motivated by the desire to understand and “makes all his choices with a view to how they will affect the condition of his soul” (197). And what he wants to understand “is not how to prevail over all the other parts–a practical, instrumental problem–but how they can all best live together” (198). This desire to understand is ultimately what allows the peace of the philosophic soul to transcend that of the perfectly just soul, and what allows reason to rule best.

1. In the first part of his article, there seems to be a slippage between the just soul and the guardian’s souls. Is Ferrari equating the two or pointing to similarities? Does that make sense?
2. Ferrari speaks of the guardians as having three-part souls rather than as representatives of a single part of the soul? Does this change the meaning of the city in speech if the guardians have their own three-part souls?
3. Ferrari seems to suggest that the calculative element is not powerful without philosophy. Do you agree with this? Can the calculative element only rule with philosophy, or is it weak in either case?
4. Could the calculative element have a goal of its own other than the love of wisdom?
5. Is Ferrari correct to say that the wise man has no inner tension?