
When Socrates calls for the philosopher king, he must preface his argument by declaring that he is serious, and not merely making a bad joke. He does this because philosophers aren't good for much, and certainly not for overseeing the very real, practical world of government. Who could ever want a philosopher as a king?
Government is for real people, and must address concrete concerns with tangible answers. When the city is faced with a food shortage, we cannot be bothered to ask , "why"; we need food, and sooner is always better.
Except, of course, that even tangible, concrete, real concerns must acknowledge that not all causes or effects are quite so physical in their manifestations.
A city which would possess Liberty must have laws (everyone agrees on this point, from Dante to Machiavelli, Hobbes to Locke). Laws are properly the province of Justice; if Justice is a flexible concept, then so is the law; flexible laws suggest a constantly changing standard, and the almost certain corruption of those who decide where the arbitrary standard of justice lies today.
Justice is difficult to define (ask Thrasymachus!) and as with most absolutes it cannot be weighed out or placed on a pillar for all to see. Our lady Justice is blind: perhaps in her quest to find the illusive virtue she represents, she has come to understand that when undertaking such a task, it is almost better to go without the comfort simple physical eyes, which can mislead us to the false comfort of equating the tangible with reality? If the government's task is to enforce the laws, and if laws depend upon our understanding of Justice, what government can be successful which does not ponder the question of Justice?
But pondering intangibles is the task of the philosophers, not politicians or government officials.
So...what? What can we take from Socrates' rather ridiculous suggestion? Should we turn our government over to the philosophers, and start praying the roads will pave themselves?
Perhaps one may ponder intangible absolutes while still acting in concrete, tangible, real ways. The union of body and mind cannot be so easily dismissed as we sometimes might like to believe; we are not wholly animal, nor wholly spirit, but rather hybrids (the originals, actually; take THAT, Prius!). When studying intangible absolutes, it is hard to ignore the implications of the discoveries we make for the images of the forms (us). It is harder still when we consider the form which became an image of Himself.
Jesus, the carpenter-teacher.
We know very little about Jesus' life prior to the beginning of his ministry, and that is traditionally attributed to what we know of the custom and culture in which he lived. We assume, given the absence of any other knowledge, that as a good man he worked the family trade until his time had come. For expediency's sake, let's grant that; this means that the most influential teacher the world has ever known worked as a simple carpenter for nearly 3 decades before he began to speak about justice, mercy, love, and God.
What does this example demand of us, His followers? What does it tell us about how we live, how we work, what we should expect of ourselves, and our leaders?
Can we be good leaders if we do not thoughtfully lead in love, mercy, justice, etc? Are our thoughts worth sharing, if we have never labored and forsake the physical world around us? Who shall we call king?