Loyalty vs Merit: A Socratic Dialogue on Political Appointments

Socratic Dialogue

By Plutonix

In this week’s conversation, Socrates and Cephalus explore the ethical complexities of political appointments. This humorous exchange centres on the Alliance du Changement government’s challenge in staffing its bureaucracy, specifically the conflict between loyalty and merit. Socrates challenges Cephalus’s pragmatic defence of political appointments, examining the implications of “turncoats” and arguing that effective governance demands more than simple party allegiance.

Characters:

  • Socrates: The relentless examiner of concepts, currently fixated on the complexities of governance and the qualifications for high office.
  • Cephalus: A wealthy, pragmatic Athenian, slightly weary of philosophy, who views government appointments through the lens of practical necessity and political survival.

Setting: The veranda of Cephalus’s elegant Athenian home, shortly after the recent, decisive political shift in the polis.

 (Socrates enters, dusting off his cloak, to find Cephalus meticulously examining a ledger.)

Socrates: Ah, Cephalus! You look preoccupied, and not merely with the accumulation of wealth, which I know is your great passion. Your brow is furrowed with the kind of consternation usually reserved for when the olives fail.

Cephalus: (Sighing, without looking up) Socrates, my good friend. You arrive at an opportune, yet maddening, moment. We have a new administration, as you know, and the marketplace is abuzz with the chaos of transition.

Socrates: Chaos? I thought we were promised a “Change Alliance.” Surely, the change is orderly?

Cephalus: Orderly, Socrates? They are attempting to staff the entire apparatus of the state, from the lowliest scribe to the commanders of the guard, all at once. The previous rulers — who, I must admit, held sway for a full decade — had a particular method of filling posts.

Socrates: And what method was that, Cephalus? I have long pondered how a ruler chooses those who serve the polis.

Cephalus: They chose, Socrates, based on loyalty. They ensured that the most strategic positions in the government, the public services, and the state enterprises were held by those who owed their allegiance solely to the ruling house.

Socrates: Loyalty. A noble trait, indeed. But tell me, Cephalus, is a loyal fool preferable to a competent sceptic?

Cephalus: (Waving a hand dismissively) You and your hypotheticals! In politics, Socrates, loyalty is competence. Or at least, it ensures stability. They wanted people they could trust not to undermine them. It’s practical.

Socrates: Practical? But the rumours suggest this loyalty-based system led to a great deal of… well, let us call it “maladministration” and “wastage of resources.” If a captain appoints a loyal but incompetent sailor to navigate the ship, is the ship safer for it?

Cephalus: (Shifting uncomfortably) Perhaps not safer, but at least the captain knows the sailor won’t plot a mutiny. Look, when you build a house, you want the bricks to stay where you put them. The previous regime ensured the bricks were firmly attached to them.

Socrates: Ah, I see. They wanted bricks that were loyal, even if they were porous and crumbled easily. And now, the new builders — the “Changement” alliance — have arrived and found the edifice structurally unsound, riddled with corruption and inefficiency.

Cephalus: Precisely. Now they face a monumental task. They must fill these vital posts with people who are both meritorious and loyal to the new regime. It is a terrible predicament.

Socrates: A terrible predicament, you say? Why should competence and loyalty be mutually exclusive?

Cephalus: Because, Socrates, those who hold office under the previous regime often possess the most experience. But how can the new rulers trust them? They must find fresh talent, but also ensure that talent is politically aligned.

Socrates: So, the State is like a difficult marriage: the new partner must choose between a skilled, but possibly unfaithful, lover, and a devout, but perhaps dull, spouse.

Cephalus: (Chuckling dryly) You put it poetically, Socrates. But the situation is more complex. You see, many of those loyalists from the previous administration have suddenly, and quietly though in some case quite publicly, declared their undying loyalty to the new government.

Socrates: (Eyes widening in mock surprise) Truly? How marvellous! The very essence of civic adaptability!

Cephalus: They are, as some call them, “turncoats.”

Socrates: “Turncoats.” A curious term. Does this mean they were previously disloyal to the polis, and are now loyal, or simply that their loyalty shifted like a weather vane that’s used to show the direction of the wind?

Cephalus: Their loyalty, Socrates, is to the pay cheque. They serve whoever holds the treasury.

Socrates: But if they are loyal only to the treasury, how can they be loyal to the new government, which is also a product of the polis? If their loyalty is to the current flow of gold, would they not simply “turncoat” again when the next wind blows?

Cephalus: (Frowning) You are making my head spin. It’s simple: they were with the old masters, and now they wish to be with the new masters. They are experienced, Socrates, and they have declared their allegiance.

Socrates: Ah, so their “merit” is their experience, and their “loyalty” is their adaptability. But tell me, Cephalus, if a man is willing to betray his former masters for gain, what guarantee does the new government have that he won’t betray them, too? Is a person who has demonstrated their unreliability a reliable choice?

Cephalus: (Rubbing his temples) The problem is precisely that! If they hire the turncoats, they risk infiltration and sabotage. If they reject them, they lose valuable experience and the administration stalls.

Socrates: And so, we see the true challenge. The new government is caught between a dearth of meritorious candidates who were not already entangled with the old regime, and a sudden surplus of untrustworthy candidates who now claim loyalty.

Cephalus: Exactly! And the result is paralysis. Seven months later, crucial posts remain empty. The recruiting process is taking ages, like trying to extract honey from a hive with blunt tools.

Socrates: Perhaps the delay is the wisest course. For if they appoint the wrong people, the state will suffer more than if they merely wait. But tell me, Cephalus, how does one determine “merit” in this system? Is it the man who knows the most about managing the bureaucracy, or the man who is the most virtuous?

Cephalus: It is the man who can do the job, Socrates, and ensure the trains run on time.

Socrates: And yet, if his skills are used only for his own gain, or the gain of his faction, rather than the good of the polis, is he truly meritorious? Was the previous government’s administration meritorious, even if it was corrupt?

Cephalus: (Exasperated) Socrates, you confuse the issue! We are talking about power and pragmatism. The new government must consolidate its hold. They need people they can trust.

Socrates: But you have admitted, my friend, that they cannot trust those who have changed sides so easily. And those who were truly loyal to the old regime are now, presumably, unemployed. So, who is left to serve the state with both skill and honor?

Cephalus: (Throws up his hands) A very small number, Socrates! A very small number! And that is why the process is so slow. They are scouring the earth for a perfect combination of clean hands and a loyal heart.

Socrates: Ah, it’s as if the new “Changement” alliance is seeking a philosophical king, but in a bureaucratic uniform, right?

Cephalus: (Grinning wryly) If only. No, they are seeking a compromise. They are trying to balance the political necessity of staffing the government with their own people, against the administrative necessity of finding people who won’t immediately cause the collapse of the state.

Socrates: And in this balancing act, we find the true tragedy of the state: that those who are most capable are often seen as politically dangerous, and those who are politically safe are often incompetent. It seems the state is forever doomed to be governed by either knaves or fools, unless they are very fortunate.

Cephalus: (Rising from his chair) Socrates, this conversation is as slow as the recruitment process itself. I must attend to my accounts. I find the practical challenges of commerce far less bewildering than the philosophical challenges of political office. At least in business, when a man declares loyalty, he is usually loyal to your money, which is a more stable loyalty than any allegiance to a changing administration!

Cephalus exits, shaking his head. Socrates remains, stroking his beard, lost in contemplation of the eternal dilemma of loyalty, merit, and the peculiar behaviour of the political turncoat.


Mauritius Times ePaper Friday 11 July 2025

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