“Bees as a Metaphor in Philosophy” Course: Group Discussion 3/6: September 21, 2013, Lit & Phil
Summary of “Plato, Poetry, Poison and Patriarchy”
At the close of my short compilation piece, “What Is Soul?” [please see the website attachment], I
noted that Rudolf Steiner’s tripartite soul typology was similar to that of Plato’s (and Aristotle’s).
Plato’s, however, was strongly hierarchal with the logos (or mind, nous, or reason) being the highest
and most superior, being followed by the thymos (or emotional, or spirited, or masculine) and, lastly,
in the lowest and most inferior position, the erotic (or appetitive, desirous, or feminine).
Such a patriarchal and, frankly, sexist sequence was firmly promoted by Plato throughout the long
dialogue of The Republic where he is at pains to point out that lyrical and dramatic poetry
(associated from archaic Greek times with the sweetness of honey as well as the gustatory divinity of
nectar) is, in reality, an inferior activity belonging to the erotic and appetitive third part of the soul.
This completely reverses or inverts the high status of such poetry within Ancient Greek culture and,
as such, renders it subversive to the Platonic ideal of reason in his Philosopher-Guardian utopian
city/state from which it is to be banned entirely. By also associating it with the erotic feminine
element in the soul, it indirectly, further demoted the status of women via their assumed associative
qualities of emotion, intuition, and irrationality—despite Plato’s inclusion, notwithstanding, of
suitably-qualified women to the highly elitist minority group of Philosopher-Guardians.
Aristotle also followed his teacher, Plato, in this typology of the soul, even though he thought that
the latter expires with the corporeal body at death and that poetry—especially that of dramatic and,
especially, tragic poetry-- served very useful didactic purposes of emotional catharsis for auditors,
as he systematically expressed in his Poetics.
I also pointed out in my previous attachments re our discussion on Art and Spirituality that it wasn’t
until 1586 that the discovery was made that the larger “King” leader honeybee was, in fact, a Queen,
and that she laid all the eggs in the honeybee hive. Lastly, I also pointed out that it was not until as
late as 1771 that the meticulous empirical observations and experiments of the Swiss duo of the
blind Huber and his dedicated (and seeing) servant Burnens proved, beyond doubt, the true sexual
division, physiology and reproductive habits of the three separate castes in the hive: that is, the
Queen bee, the numerous, sterile female worker bees, and the few male non-working drone bees.
Lastly, although indirectly confirmed at this time also by Huber and Burnens, it was not actually until
1859—the same year as Darwin published his Origin of the Species—that it was demonstrated via
direct observation that the Queen bee is fertilised outside the hive in her early and only nuptial flight
by numerous drone bees who, in so copulating with her, lose their genitals and die soon afterwards.
Aristotle, in his highly influential treatise, History of Animals, did more than most to disseminate a
totally erroneous mythology that includes: the miraculous chasteness of the bees; that honey is
found in the flowers (rather than manufactured by the honeybees from their own bodies utilizing
the nectar sucked up by them during their voracious foraging); that these worker bees are male
rather than female, and, most misleadingly, that the larger leader bee is a king rather than a queen.
[Plato, moreover, in The Republic, Books 8 and 9, adopts a long, extended metaphor of the drone
bees as representing all that is antisocial and civically unworthy in the various imperfect societies
that he describes in contrast to his imaginary perfect one: namely, the Spartan-like, ascetic, martial
Timarchy; Oligarchy; Democracy; and Tyranny. Although we will be examining this later in greater
detail when we come to the question of the hive as a metaphor for politics and social utopias, I
mention it here to flesh out the full picture of Plato’s negative use of the honeybee as a metaphor].
Here is how Rana Saadi Liebert expressed the crucial triple-related point of the honeybee, poetry
and sweetness in an extremely scholarly and detailed article of 2010 in Transactions of the American
Philological Association (140, 97-115). This is the abstract of the article:
“This article examines the apian imagery that runs through Plato’s Republic in order
To show how Socrates exploits traditional bee-related metaphors to strengthen his
case against poetry. Socrates transvalues the traditional association between poetry
and honey by conflating the image of the productive bee-poet with that of the parasitic
drone-citizen, thus using poetry’s own value terms to critique it on political grounds. By
reconfiguring sweetness in all forms as a toxin inimical to a healthy state and
incommensurate with the philosophical values of purity and moderation, Socrates
turns the poetic tradition against itself. Once sweetness and benefit are understood to be
mutually exclusive, poetry’s apian ‘virtues’ become political liabilities.” (99)
To which one must add from the text of the article itself:
Under philosophical scrutiny, poetry’s sweetness is revealed to be delicious, to be sure,
but toxic. By establishing the addictive nature of sweetness and its corrosive effect on
body and soul, Socrates builds a case against poetry that ironically emerges from the
archaic poetic tradition’s own rhetorical posturing.”
In sum, Philosophy, mediated via Reason rather than emotion and desire, is polemically and
consistently proposed in The Republic by Socrates via Plato as replacing the latter by the former in
his idealised city-state. This constitutes the major campaign in the perennial Ancient Greek literary
and community war between the claims of Poetry and Philosophy as the champions for moral truth.
Who won? Good question. On the 21st September, we generally examined the issues of the
honeybee as being virtually synonymous in Ancient Greek society with the honeyed and articulate
nature of poetry and also with sensuous and gustatory pleasure—and Plato’s objections to all of this
in both his early dialogue, Ion, and the later and much longer The Republic. In addition, we raised
questions re patriarchy and the intellectual and moral status of women; we also touched briefly
upon the issue of artistic authorship arising from divine inspiration and/or craftsmanship.
[We had already encountered this aesthetic debate in reviewing art and spirituality when I
introduced Soren Kierkegaard’s argument for the priority of outside inspiration over the artist’s
talents when, in his Either/or, Vol I, he unfavourably compared the impressive but identically
uniform production of the honeycomb with Mozart’s absolutely unique Don Giovanni opera.]
Plato, in The Republic, and elsewhere in his dialogues, similarly argues that poetry is divinely inspired
and, although undoubtedly enjoyable and affecting, is also rationally unreliable, having nothing
whatsoever to do with the agency of the so-called composer or, indeed, the rhapsode or
professional actor/performer who dramatically recites it. He makes this crystal clear in his early
dialogue, Ion, in which he demotes the outstanding talent of this famous Homeric rhapsode:
“This ability of yours to speak well about Homer is not a skill, as I was saying just now.
It is a divine power which moves you, like the power in the stone which Euripides [the
famous Greek dramatist] calls a magnet, but which most people call the ‘Heraclean stone’.
This stone not only attracts iron rings, it also confers on them the power to do the same,
that is, to attract other rings, so that sometimes a long chain of rings and pieces of iron,
suspended one from another, is formed, the power of all of them depending on the stone.
In the same way the Muse herself inspires people, and from these inspired people a chain
of others is strung out, all inspired with the same enthusiasm. For all good poets utter all
those fine poems of theirs not through skill, but when inspired and possessed, and good
lyric poets do the same. Just as Corybantic worshippers [originally mythical attendants of the
Phrygian mother-goddess, Cybele, whose cult involved wild orgiastic dancing and who, like
such mythical counterparts, engaged in frenzied dancing which was believed to have
therapeutic powers]are not in their right minds when they dance, so too lyric poets compose
those fine poems of theirs when they are not in their right minds; when they embark on
melody and rhythm they become frenzied and possessed like Bacchic women who draw milk
and honey from rivers when possessed and out of their minds; the souls of lyric poets
undergo the same experience, as they themselves say.” (Plato, Ion, 533-534)
Thus Plato puts down poets and performers or, rather, acknowledges their great power, but doesn’t
give them the credit for it. But Plato’s apparent misanthropic Puritanism does not stop there. Oh no!
Because of Plato’s tripartite division of the soul and, in particular, his placing of poetry in his lowest
division of the erotic, appetitive, and sensuously desirable, all of which qualities and attributes are
regarded by him as feminine and inferior, I argued the case during our last discussion, that the status
also of women, in addition to poets, was especially and further demoted -- from that pre-existing in
Ancient Athenian and Greek society already—by Plato, and, moreover, for the following two
millennia and beyond-- via his highly influential philosophy and his mimetic theory of art (which we
discussed last time in connection with aesthetics, metaphysics, Steiner and Beuys) .
Ditto that of Aristotle’s admittedly less Idealistic and patriarchal critical dissections of poetry and the
arts in general. Thus, both Plato and Aristotle, the two founding fathers of Philosophy, whatever
greatness of reputation and contribution they otherwise achieved for posterity, are also clearly
responsible, in part, for the pre-modern patriarchy and misogyny that arose from misconceptions of
the hive. Both, IMHO, have proved, on the whole, inimical to the status of both women and the arts.
You may or may not agree with me but, during the last group discussion we also did seem to agree
that Judeo-Christianity only served to make matters worse for women via the myths and narratives
contained in the books of the Torah and the Old Testament and, subsequently, the New Testament
(especially Paul’s writings and epistles) concerning, for example, Adam and Eve and the Fall of Man
via Eve’s temptation by the serpent Devil and her ensuing disobedience of eating the apple of the
divinely forbidden Tree of Knowledge which she then also gave to Adam. And this section of the
debate, although not anticipated by me, proved to be very lively and protracted!
Returning, however, to the major theme of Plato, Poetry and Poison, it is important to realise that
the attribution of sweetness via the senses to poetry pervades Greek poetics from its very inception.
Whether it be: Hesiod’s “ sweet-speaking Muses of Olympus “ whose voice “flows sweet from their
mouth”, Theogony 965-66); or Homer’s “the gift of sweet song” that the Muses bestow on
bards(Odyssey 8.64); or the late seventh-century Spartan poet Alcman’s “honey-voiced” maidens
“sweet-calling, sounds of allurement”(Fragment 26, Maiden Song); or the “poured nectar” that the
incomparable fifth-century Theban poet, Pindar, offered to his athletic victors (Olympian.7.8), “the
pleasure and satisfaction that Greek poetry promises to provide is of a strikingly gustatory nature”
(Liebert 98), coupled as most of it is with the long tradition of Homeric feasts and male symposiums.
The poet himself very quickly adopted (as Liebert informs us, 97-98) “the persona of the bee, culling
his songs from the Muses’ gardens to produce poetry that is, as Pindar puts it, ‘sweeter than oldfashioned honey comb’ (Fragment 152). Elsewhere Pindar tells us that ‘the choicest hymn of praise
flits from one theme to another, like a bee’(Pyth.10.53-56) and takes himself to be ‘cultivating the
choice garden of the Graces(Olympian. 9.26-27) when composing his odes. These and other Pindaric
passages develop what I call an apian program of poetic activity orientated by poilikia (variety),
which characterises the whole process of poetic composition in terms of the bee’s art and the
sweetness of poetic pleasure as the product of his labor. Like the bee’s activity, the poet’s task
involves a discriminating selection that results in the choicest product: ‘the perfection of honey’
(Pae.6.5-59) (note 2, 98).
Aristophanes (the Greek comedic dramatist and satirist, famous for scatologically lampooning
Socrates in his play, The Clouds), exploited such an apian conception of the poet’s activity by, for
example, employing a chorus of birds which disparaged “the poet, Phrynichus, for feeding on their
songs ‘like a bee’ that must feed on flowers to produce honey (Av.748-50)”(Liebert, 98)’
However, probably the best example of this metaphoric and parodic use of the honeybee for poetry
and poets was Plato himself, again, in his mocking of the powers of the poets and rhapsodes:
“For they tell us, you see, that they bring us their songs from the honey-flowing springs
in groves and gardens of the Muses, gathering them as bees gather honey; and they too
are on the wing. And they are right. For a poet is a light and winged and sacred thing, and
is unable to compose until he is inspired and out of his mind and his reason is no longer
in him. So long as he has his reason, no man can compose or prophecy. . .and poets are
nothing but interpreters of the gods, each possessed by his own possessing god.” (Ion,534)
This metaphoric conceit was to have a very long life in both western and eastern philosophical,
religious, and literary traditions: witness The Book of Gleanings Called the Bee which was written in
Syriac in the first half of the 13th century by Mar Shlimon, Metropolitan of Prath Maishan (Basra) of
the Assyrian Church of the East. The poetic title of the book originates in the idea that a bee goes
from flower to flower collecting precious nectar from earth. Likewise, the author assembles into one
book a great variety of information gleaned from many books including the Bible as well as
apocryphal works. It consists of 55 chapters discussing various topics including the creation, heaven
and earth, the angels, darkness, paradise, Old Testament patriarchs, New Testament events, lists of
kings and patriarchs, and the final day of resurrection. The book serves as a kind of religious and
philosophical history of the world from creation to the coming of the Antichrist and the afterlife!
This tradition of associating the activities of both the busy, foraging honeybees and the collective
beehive with the quest for and storage of knowledge brings us to the very important philosophical
sub-category of epistemology --which we will be examining more closely next meeting, in connection
with bee consciousness, intelligence, learning and language. However, let me give a little advance
notice here of a part of what I will be introducing at that time: namely the fascinating manuscript
and inter-generational book, The Bee-Hive, by the Pennsylvanian colonist and polymath, Francis
Daniel Pastorius (1651-1719/20), a compilation of commonplace knowledge and verse miscellany,
which was described by the legal scholar, Marianne Wokeck, as an “early American encyclopedia of
knowledge and typologised by cultural historian, Patrick Erben, as follows: “the process of collecting
and composing simultaneously engages the experimential and concrete world outside the text, the
intellectual world of his [Pastorius’] reading and writing, and finally, the physical compilation and
representation of his knowledge on the pages of his manuscript books. “ This quotation is cited in
the accompanying book to a special exhibition entitled The Revolt of the Bees: Wherein the Future of
the Paper-Hive is Declared, held at the Rare Book and Manuscript Library at the University of
Pennsylvania in 2005, of which much more next time: “I am a Bee, (no drone) tho’ without
Sting,/Here you may see what Honey-Combs I bring. [. . .] What others did Contrive, I carry to my
Hive.” ( Daniel Pastotius, His Hive, Meliotrophium Alvear or, Rusca Apium, Germantown, 1696-1865).
Happy book and paper buzzing! See you all on Oct. 12th at the Lit & Phil, 10:30 am!