Should Society Be Harmonious?

Socrates says that the ideal republic is harmonious, and this has since become a common image in political thought. People form a city like notes form a chord. But Zuckerkandl taught me a new word, an alternative to harmony: polyphony. So, extending the metaphor, could a polyphonic society be better than a harmonious one?

Harmony and polyphony are two forms of multi-toned music. Harmony is “melody plus accompaniment.” The melody is in charge, and the alto, tenor, and bass lines are for the sake of it. Sure, the harmony has some power to change the ‘vibe’ of the melody, but for the most part it is subservient to the laws the melody sets down. The biggest of these laws is rhythm—every part in a harmonic piece will sing the same words at the same time. If this were a city, it would be hard to see the backup parts’ individuality, and even harder to imagine them free.

Polyphony is the opposite. The parts sing different melodies at different times, and there is no one leader that dominates the piece. Each part gets its time in the sun, and once that time is done, the part steps aside to make room for another. With no eternal ruler, polyphony is more democratic than harmony.

Moreover, each part in polyphony is unique and whole. In Sicut Cervus, the sopranos give us one musical idea, the altos another, and so on. Unlike in harmony, in polyphony every part can rightly be called individual. This makes polyphony truer to human nature. I am not my neighbor transposed a fifth up—I am someone else entirely. When I join a society, I want this fact to be recognized, my me-ness to be affirmed.

It would be easy to take this line of thought too far, though. ‘Let me do and say whatever I want!’ But a society built on this idea would be like a song made of a dozen different chants all playing at once. No matter how good each may be on its own, when they all come together they create “nonsense [and] disorder.” Absolute freedom is unmusical.

This is why, in polyphony, each part’s “right of self-assertion” is constrained by duty to the song. Every part shares the same key, time signature, and lyrics. They strive for the same end, coming together in one chord on the final syllable. These constraints elevate the piece to something beautiful. They also create the circumstances that allow glimpses of harmony to appear. But these glimpses come about naturally, like a murmuration of starlings, rather than by the melody’s strict command.

So which city is better, the harmonious or the polyphonic? I know I would choose the latter. I think the former image, much like cell-state theory, is a friend of tyrants (but if you want to hear more about that, let’s talk face to face).

But regardless of which city you would choose, I hope this encourages you to be intentional with the images you use. Because if we understand these metaphors and use them with care, we might learn what kind of community—what kind of world—we want to live in.