No philosopher Kings

If he is wise, the philosopher is an atheist and an amoralist.

Judging by the general run of men, he is in some degree averse to the distress of others but, personal acquaintances aside, he is for the most part indifferent to their fate.

Indeed, again judging by the ordinary run of men, he fears his fellows more than he loves them, and his feelings and preferences are colored accordingly.

All the same, his preferences don't suffice to decide many questions that others among that same general run can decide only by appeal to moral or religious beliefs, if at all.

Assuming, of course, that he has no personal stake in the matter, nor does anyone whose fate concerns him personally.

But that is what, according to the classical view, the wise man, the philosopher King, is supposed to do.

Decide all those controversies.

Make law for all those cases.

But with no stake in the matter and neither moral nor religious convictions to guide him, absent both a love for others unnatural as hen's teeth and a not so unnatural general malevolence, he must truly be indifferent.

Let's put the question a little differently.

Don't imagine you had to make all those decisions.

Imagine someone else with no stake making those decisions, and able to make them with complete impunity.

Scary thought, eh?

Too many people like to wreck anthills or torment helpless animals . . . . or children.

Ordinary people, sufficiently informed, can sometimes decide which of the major parties is, based on its policy commitments, likely the lesser evil or the greater good, judging by their own interests and, though in most cases it counts for much less, by those of their acquaintances.

A more interesting question is how the ordinary politician arrives at the preferences that will enable him to decide what to support and what to oppose, once in office.

Assuming he isn't simply for sale.

In any case, it's not wisdom.