Tracing the Body–Soul Dichotomy in Greek Religion: From Orphism to Plato’s Psychology

Abstract

The body–soul relationship serves as a crucial entry point for exploring the intersection of Plato’s dialogues with ancient Greek religious thought, particular Orphic doctrines. In critically inheriting and reconstructing core elements of Orphism, Plato initiates a paradigm shift from mythos to logos—transitioning from mythic narrative to philosophical reasoning. In the context of Greek religious history, Orphism was the first to articulate a dualism between soul and body, depicting the body as a “prison” that confines the divine soul. While Plato frequently references this framework in his dialogues, he simultaneously exposes its inherent contradictions. By distinguishing between the soul’s pure and embodied states, Plato rejects the Orphic notion of bodily impurity. Instead, he reinterprets the body’s negativity not as religious “original sin,” but as the interference of sensory experience and desire in rational life. He affirms that the soul maintains its rational autonomy even in embodiment, with desire and thymos (spirit) emerging naturally from this process, thereby disclosing the soul’s intrinsic structure. In place of a strict dualism, Plato introduces a tripartite model of the soul, positioning thymos as the mediating force between reason and desire. The ambiguity of thymos functions as a self-regulating mechanism that enables the soul to maintain dynamic balance. In this moral psychology, virtue is no longer defined as the soul’s rejection of the body, but as the soul’s harmonious order and natural growth within it. Plato thus adopts a complex and cautious stance toward Orphism, ultimately transcending its passive ethical outlook and transforming a mythical doctrine into a rational philosophical system.

1. Introduction

Orphism was introduced to Athens and other Greek city-states around the sixth century BCE, a period marked by political turbulence and profound intellectual transformation (Linforth 1941, pp. 68–70). Unlike the traditional Olympian religion, which was rooted in aristocratic ethics and civic ritual, Orphism did not develop a stable institutional framework or a codified set of public rites (Guthrie 1952, p. 11). This lack of formal organization long fueled scholarly skepticism about its historical reality, especially as initiated by Wilamowitz’s Der Glaube der Hellenen. von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff (1955, pp. 190–91) contended that the Orphic works, myths, and mysteries cited by Neoplatonists and Herodotus could not support the existence of a distinct religion or a concrete religious community. It was only with the discovery of new archaeological evidence in the late 1970s and early 1980s—most importantly the Derveni Papyrus—that the existence of Orphic sects in pre-Hellenistic Greece was firmly established. This breakthrough prompted a significant reassessment of Plato’s relationship to Orphism. Research on this topic has developed along two major interpretive trends. The first focuses on intertextual parallels between the Platonic dialogues and Orphic literature, tracing the presence of Orphic themes, imagery, and doctrines in Platonic texts. For instance, Riedweg (1987, p. 31), in the opening chapter of his book, investigates Plato’s use of Orphic and Eleusinian mystical terminology in dialogues such as the Symposium and Phaedrus. Similarly, Edmonds (2004, pp. 20–27) compares the Orphic gold tablets with Plato’s dialogues, highlighting echoes of doctrines such as the “Titanic original sin,” metempsychosis, and eschatological judgment. The second trend interprets Plato as an inheritor and philosophical transmitter of Orphic ideas, highlighting his intellectual continuity with Orphism, Pythagorean teachings, and broader currents within Greek religious tradition. Feibleman (1979, p. 66), for example, underscores how Orphic solar veneration and the doctrine of the soul’s immortality shaped Plato’s metaphysical idealism and other-worldly theology. Bernabé’s (2011) monograph remains the most comprehensive study in this area; he catalogs and analyzes all references to Orphism in Plato’s works, offering an in-depth account of the influence of Orphic mythology, religious literature, and ritual on Plato’s evolving thought.

At least fifteen direct references to Orphic doctrines can be found in Plato’s dialogues, suggesting that Plato regarded Orpheus as a historical figure and was deeply familiar with Orphic traditions (Feibleman 1979, p. 58). However, despite his attraction to certain elements of Orphism, Plato maintained a critical stance towards its central doctrines. At times, he openly ridicules the crude and superficial nature of the teachings conveyed by the Orphic initiates; on other occasions, he neither endorses nor critiques the content, merely citing Orphic verses as learned references, with no inherent evaluation of the ideas themselves (Bernabé 2011, p. 261). This selective use raises the central issue: what role do the Orphic doctrines play in the development of Plato’s own thought, and why does Plato selectively extract, reinterpret, and reshape the religious narrative of Orphism? This article approaches the question through the lens of the ancient debate on body–soul relations, systematically examining how Plato critically inherited and adapted Orphic traditions. It will reveal how Plato transcends Orphic dualism by developing a tripartite model of the soul in his moral psychology, thereby facilitating a transition from mythos to logos. In my opinion, while Plato adopts the Orphic body–soul dichotomy as a springboard for philosophical reflection, he simultaneously transcends the limitations of this dualism by distinguishing the soul’s pure and embodied states. By introducing the key concept of thymos (spirit), he mediates the tension between reason and desire, ultimately dissolving the Orphic body–soul opposition. Consequently, the frequent appearance of Orphic motifs in Plato’s dialogues should be understood as a strategic engagement with mythos, not to affirm the customary civic religious traditions, but to lay the groundwork for the philosophical discourse.

2. Orphic Sōma–Sēma Doctrine: The Body as a Sacred Prison

Before the sixth century BCE, mainstream Greek culture did not exhibit the sharply divided concepts of “body” (σῶμα) and “soul” (ψυχή) that later became foundational to philosophical inquiry. In the Homeric epics, σῶμα is never used to refer to the living body; rather, it specifically denotes the lifeless corpse (e.g., Iliad 1.4, 22.375, 22.386). The concept of the “living body” is typically conveyed through the metonymy of body parts. For instance, δέμας refers to the outline or skin of the body, often used in comparative expressions such as “to be small or large, to resemble someone.” Similarly, γυῖα (limbs, capable of jointed movement) and μέλεα (members, characterized by muscular strength) are frequently employed to describe various states of bodily activity (Snell 1953, pp. 5–6). In contrast, ψυχή appears exclusively in contexts of death or temporary loss of consciousness, such as fainting. It represents a vital force that sustains life or, after bodily death, a shadowy remnant on its way to the Underworld (Bremmer 1983, p. 74). For example, when Hyperenor receives a fatal wound from Menelaus, his soul (ψυχή) “slips out from the wound” (Iliad 14.518). Andromache, upon fainting, falls backward with her “exhaled soul (ψυχή) drifting aimlessly” (Iliad 22.467). As Hector approaches death, his soul “departs from his limbs and falls to the domain of Hades” (Iliad 22.363), followed by the collapse of vital functions as his body becomes limp and pliable (Iliad 22.375). These passages indicate that, in Homeric epics, body and soul are conceptualized as separable only in death and are described using distinct vocabularies. In life, however, they are conceived as an inseparable unity.

Homer’s descriptions of mental activity and psychological processes are grounded in specific bodily organs and physiological functions. For example, φρένες can denote both the chest or midriff and the faculties of thought or emotion. Θυμός originally means “breath” or “smoke,” and more literally, the air taken into the lungs (Clarke 1999, p. 79). Over time, it also extends to signify “blood” or “passion.” Clarke (1999, p. 129) notes that, for Homer, the mental life is understood as breath mingled with blood and bodily fluids in the chest. In this framework, the living person possesses no internal entity that could be singled out as a soul confined within the body. Body and soul function as a unified whole, jointly constituting the individual’s identity and essence. At death, this integrated body–soul entity dissolves. The soul descends to the Underworld in a diminished, pathetic state, which Homer consistently portrays as a pitiable existence. This is most vividly expressed in Achilles’ lament, where he declares that he would rather to be a slave among the living than become the ruler of the dead souls.1 However, the rise of Orphism, influenced by the worship of Dionysus and its emphasis on mystical experiences and spiritual purification, marks a significant departure from the Homeric notion of the unified body and soul. Dodds argues that Orphism introduced a new religious paradigm by positing the existence of a hidden, divine self within each human being. This notion established a dualism between body and soul, and laid the foundation for ascetic practices within early European spiritual culture (Dodds 1973, p. 140). Scholars have long recognized this dualism as a central feature of the Orphic tradition (Edmonds 2014, p. 3). Orphism presents a vision of the human as a battleground between the physical and the divine—where the ψυχή (soul) contains the divine essence and spiritual potential, while the σῶμα (body) is viewed as a prison that restrains this transcendental nature.

2.1. Titanic Original Sin and Soul’s Salvation

In Orphic genealogy, Zeus, in the form of a serpent, approached his daughter Persephone in secret and fathered Dionysus. According to the hymn to Dionysus, the god was born from the unspoken union between Zeus and Persephone (Malamis 2025, p. 59). After his birth, Dionysus was lured by the Titans, who had been sent by Hera, and they dismembered and consumed his body. In response, Zeus struck the Titans with his thunderbolts and cast them into Tartarus. As recounted by Olympiodorus (1976, p. 40) in his commentary on Plato’s Phaedo,2 humans were created from the soot of the vapors that rise from the Titans (1.3 = OF 320i). This myth situates the human soul as both Dionysian and Titanic in origin. While it inherits divine elements from Dionysus, it also carries the stain of the Titans’ violence, resulting in the soul being “imprisoned” within the body. Through ascetic practices such as fasting and vegetarianism, humans are meant to purge their Titan nature and restore their divine essence.

In the myth of Orpheus himself, the body similarly acts as an obstacle to the soul’s return to its divine origin. As the son of the Muse Calliope and the Thracian river god Eagros,3 Orpheus was celebrated for his enchanting voice, mysterious purity, and prophetic powers, embodying a fusion of Apollonian worship and the Thracian belief in reincarnation (Eliade 1978, p. 270). According to Ovid (1955, pp. 235–36), Orpheus descended alone into the Underworld in an attempt to retrieve his lost wife, Eurydice. Through the enchanting power of his music and poetry, he succeeded in moving Hades, the god of the Underworld, who granted him permission to lead Eurydice back to life (Metamorphoses X. 40–64). However, as they neared the threshold of the upper world, Orpheus could not resist the urge, turned to look at his wife. At that moment, Eurydice was immediately pulled back into death, just before her rebirth could be completed. This tragic failure symbolizes a central tenet of Orphic doctrine: the soul, if it remains attached to the body and its physical form, cannot achieve salvation. The Orphic mysteries (τελεταί), which were highly esteemed in antiquity, sought to guide initiates toward salvation through the ritual enactment of symbolic death. These rites were designed to mimic the soul’s descent into the Underworld and to offer participants a foretaste of posthumous purification. By undergoing such initiations, the individual was expected to internalize the spiritual lesson embodied in Orpheus’s failure—that the soul must transcend its fixation on the physical in order to reclaim its divine nature. As Plutarch noted in a fragment cited by Stobaeus (1912, p. 1089), the experience of initiation into the mysteries mirrors the soul’s experience when approaching death. Thus, the Greek verbs “to die” (τελευτᾶν) and “to be purified” (τελεῖσθαι) express related processes (Anthologium V. 52. 49). At the beginning of death, the soul may wander aimlessly, feeling terror, shivering, trembling, sweating, and amazement in the darkness. But after this, a marvelous light meets the wanderer, and open fields and meadows welcome him (Plutarch’s Moralia XV. 178).

2.2. Memory, Purification Mysteries and Soul’s Reincarnation

This deeply entrenched notion of the body–soul dualism is not only reflected in the Orphic pantheon and myths, but also directly shapes the followers’ understanding of death and the afterlife. The hymn dedicated to Thanatos (Θάνατος), the god of death, portrays death in an almost reverential tone: “Your sleep snaps the bond between body and soul, when you loosen the powerful shackles of nature, bringing the long, unending sleep to the living” (Malamis 2025, p. 117). This not only reaffirms the metaphor of the body as the prison of the soul but also exposes the fundamental contradiction of bodily existence—it is both a product of nature (φύσις) and a “powerful shackles,” serving as the source of the soul’s confinement and defilement. For Orphic followers, the death of the body is far from an end; rather, it marks the beginning of liberation, as declared in the funerary inscription found at Pelinna-Tetroporo: “At this moment, you are dead; at this moment, you have become thrice fortunate. Just today” (OF 485).4 The body’s dissolution is celebrated as the moment when the soul sheds its material constraints and embarks on a new life toward divine re-union. However, the path to liberation is not without obstacles. Imprisoned in the body for so long, the soul has fallen into a profound state of “forgetfulness,” losing awareness of its divine origin. The gold tablets found in Petilia, Crete, and Hippone emphasize the soul’s divine lineage—the human soul is described as the child of the Earth and the starry heavens, born of Gaia and Uranus (OF 476). These gold tablets serve as a guide for the soul’s journey through the Underworld, combating the obliteration of memory caused by the body’s imprisonment. As recorded in the Delphic papyrus: “prayers and sacrifices appease the souls, while the incantation of the magiis (μáywv) is able to drive away the daimons who are hindering; hindering daimons are vengeful souls (KPT 6).” A well-known passage from the Petilia tablet recounts the soul’s journey after death: “You will find the house of Hades on the left, near a spring. Beside it stands a white cypress tree, and at the edge of the spring, it is almost untouched by any weeds. You will discover other springs as well, from the lake of Mnemosyne, where cold water flows, and the guardians stand before them” (OF 476). As the soul makes its way toward the Underworld, it faces two paths, and only by choosing the correct one and speaking the right “secret word” to the guardians can it drink from the clear spring of memory. This is a crucial step in the judgment process in the Underworld. The gold tablets, buried in the tomb in this world, ensures that, after leaving the chaos of the body, the soul will receive the necessary guidance to restore its memory.

Souls that fail to restore their memory and escape the lingering effects of the body may fall into an endless cycle of reincarnation. A gold tablet discovered at Thourioi features an initiate’s first-person declaration: “A heavy, sorrowful circle surrounds me; my feet are weighed down, shackled by the bonds of a tyrant. Beneath the fold of the earth’s dominion, I seem trapped in the circle of reincarnation, bound to the underworld’s reign” (OF 488). This passage directly associates the suffering of “the cycle of reincarnation” with the body’s imprisoning nature. As a vessel of the Titan’s sin, the body serves as the chain that binds the soul to its repeated rebirths (μετεμψύχωσις) in the mortal realm. The notion of the soul’s reincarnation also appears in the philosophical commentaries of Proclus.5 Herodotus, who tends to attribute Orphic practices and doctrines to the ancient Egyptians, asserts that certain Greeks—both earlier and later, adopted the theory of reincarnation (Histories 2.123 = OF 423). Therefore, the life of an Orphic follower is imbued with two primary goals: on the one hand, through strict vegetarian prohibitions (to avoid contamination from the Titan’s sin of consuming the gods’ food), participation in the Dionysian frenzy (ὄργια) to provoke ecstatic experiences, and purification mysteries, the soul gradually purges the pollution caused by the body, preparing for the soul’s ultimate “light departure”; on the other hand, ultimate liberation cannot be achieved solely through personal discipline or ascetic practices. It requires religious guidance, conveyed through sacred words and divine grace.6 The Orphic path to salvation is, at its core, a journey facilitated by divine revelation—one that traverses the abyss of forgetfulness created by the body and ultimately recalls and returns the soul to its divine origin.

2.3. Plato’s Record and Reinterpretation

Plato’s dialogues provide some of most direct and explicit textual evidence for the Orphic dualism between soul and body. In the Cratylus (400b–c), Plato presents a threefold etymological interpretation of the term σῶμα (body). First, the body is understood as the tomb (σῆμα) of the soul. Second, it is seen as a mark or symbol (σῆμα) of the soul. Third, the body functions as the prison in which the soul is confined (σῴζηται) until it has paid the penalty for its sins. Socrates attributes the third interpretation to “some” (τινες) of his contemporaries, who were most likely adherents of Orphic doctrine. The “sins” referenced here relate to the primordial guilt inherited from the myth of Dionysus’s dismemberment by the Titans (Athanassakis and Wolkow 2013, p. xiv). In the Phaedo, during his discussion of the prohibition against suicide (61d), Socrates draws upon a “doctrine from the secret teachings” (ὁ ἐν ἀπορρήτοις λεγόμενος λόγος), asserting that humans are like prisoners in a divine guardhouse (φρουρά). They are under the care of the gods (ἐπιμελουμένους θεούς), and suicide constitutes a violation of this divine guardianship (61e–62b). In this passage, Plato accentuates the opposition between soul and body, not merely portraying them as distinct entities with separate qualities and functions, but also as beings with fundamentally opposing natures, locked in an eternal conflict.

Plato incorporates the Orphic concept of soul immortality into his philosophical system. In the Meno, he connects the soul’s immortality to an “ancient punishment,” which Socrates attributes to “wise men and women in divine matters” as well as “Pindar and other divine poets.” They argue that the soul is immortal, undergoing cycles of death and rebirth, but never destroyed (81a). Humans must live justly, as Persephone accepts the penalty of an ancient atonement, returning souls to the sun after nine years, from which noble kings, powerful heroes, and sages of unmatched wisdom will emerge (81a–c). Plato then emphasizes the immortality of the soul, introducing the concepts of recollection and soul reincarnation to structure his ethical and epistemological framework: “the soul, being immortal, has seen all things here and in the underworld, and can recollect what it once knew, including virtue” (81c). This reinterpretation underscores Plato’s strategic use of mythos as a complementary discourse, which, instead of opposing rational argument, serves as a tool to facilitate the expression of philosophical truths (Casadesús Bordoy 2006, p. 160). In the subsequent analysis, we will explore how this approach is particularly evident in Plato’s engagement with the Orphic dualism.

3. From the Body–Soul Dichotomy to the Embodied Soul

Orphic dualism holds that the body is merely a temporary station for the soul, which possesses a superior claim to being the true subject of the self. The soul serves not only as the dual source of bodily life and rational activity, but also as the potential agent of eternal reward or punishment in accordance with the quality of one’s life (Robinson 2000, p. 37). Plato similarly asserts that the “soul precedes the body,” integrating core Orphic concepts—such as the immortality of the soul and its cyclical reincarnation—into the rational argument of his dialogues. In the Phaedo, Plato invokes Orphic teachings when he states that “after death, one passes from the world of the living to the underworld, and then returns to life again” (70c), using this cyclical pattern to support his philosophical claim for the soul’s immortality. Further elaborations appear in the Republic (621d) and Phaedrus (248c–e), where Plato describes a thousand-year cycle of reincarnation. According to this account, souls that have glimpsed the truth under divine guidance remain free from suffering until their next cycle, in accordance with an inviolable cosmic law. Throughout dialogues such as the Gorgias, Cratylus, and Phaedo, Plato repeatedly returns to the central Orphic formula sōma = sēma, emphasizing the soul’s distinct and superior nature. The soul is described as immortal (ἀθάνατον), intelligent (φρόνιμον), divine (θεῖον), simple in form (μονοειδές), and indivisible. By contrast, the body is mortal, irrational, material, mutable, and composed of parts (Phaedo 80b).

However, despite this clear opposition, Plato’s formulation of soul–body dualism presents several philosophical tensions. If the soul and body possess fundamentally different properties, why must the soul be bound to the body at all? What necessitates their union? On the other hand, since human beings experience the world as composites of body and soul, they come to understand the being of things through both sensory perception and rational inquiry, including the pursuit of wisdom (Phaedo 82e). The soul’s susceptibility to being “dragged” by the body into sensory distractions suggests that it differs from the pure, immutable, and invisible Forms. As Ahrensdorf (1995, p. 96) notes, if soul and body are entirely distinct in nature, how can the body exert influence over the soul? Such influence would only be metaphysically plausible if there were a point of essential similarity between the two. To resolve this dilemma, Plato synthesizes the Homeric view of the soul as a composite of psychological faculties with the Orphic model of soul–body dualism (Sessini 2024, p. 87). By distinguishing between the soul’s pure and embodied states, he begins to address both the metaphysical and moral conditions that underlie the soul’s incarnation. In dialogues such as Phaedo and Phaedrus, Plato explores the necessity of the soul–body union, treating embodiment not as a mere punishment but as a meaningful stage in the soul’s development. In this perspective, the embodied soul assumes a mediating role between the god and the human, serving as the structural pivot of Plato’s moral psychology.

3.1. Plato on the Immortality and Embodiment of the Soul

From the early to the middle dialogues, Plato’s conception of the “embodied soul” evolves with increasing philosophical depth. In the early dialogues, the soul is conceived as an “inner personality” set in contrast to the body. Bodily sensations encumber the soul, while the evils of the body—weakness, disease, ugliness, and excessive desire (Gorgias 477b)—impair its activity in both the cognitive and moral domains. In the Alcibiades I (130a–e), Plato defines the body as a possession of the soul (τὰ αὑτοῦ), categorically distinct from external material possessions (χρήματα) (131a–c). To “know oneself” thus means to know one’s soul. In the Gorgias, this opposition is made explicit: Socrates asserts that the soul must govern the body, rather than allowing bodily pleasure to become the standard of a good life (465d). In rejecting the unrestrained physical gratification, Plato invokes the Orphic teaching that “the body is the tomb of the soul” (τὸ μὲν σῶμά ἐστιν ἡμῖν σῆμα), and refers to the poetic doctrines of soul transmigration. He warns that those who recklessly indulge in bodily desires will not only damage the soul in this life but will also endure torment after death (492d–493c). In the Protagoras, Plato compares the way sophists trade in knowledge that nurtures the soul to how merchants trade in physical goods (313c). The soul is described as a person’s “most cherished possession” (314a), and its moral character is shown to depend on the knowledge it receives from external sources. But Plato’s depictions of the relation between soul and body are not without tensions (Dodds 1973, p. 179). In the Charmides, Socrates presents the soul and body as closely integrated components of a unified whole, not as a mere aggregation of parts but as a philosophically grounded connection of entailment (Robinson 1995, p. 8). Nevertheless, Plato consistently regards their union as a fundamentally unnatural conjunction: the body, in most respects, obstructs the soul—conceived as a wholly immaterial entity—from attaining true happiness. The opposition between soul and body is thus recast as the opposition between bodily desire and the correct desires proper to the soul.

In the middle dialogues, Plato strategically adopts and reframes the Orphic dualism. In the Phaedo, although Socrates states that the soul is “more invisible than the body” (79b), he does not treat body and soul as absolute opposites. Instead, he suggests a subtle intermixture between them, a kind of impurity that allows the body to “drag” the soul into the mutable world of sensory experience (79c). When united, however, the soul is meant to govern, with the body serving as its subordinate (80a). While parts of the body, such as bones and sinews, may endure for some time after death (Phaedo 80d), only the soul is portrayed as truly resembling the immortal, since it can exist independently of any material substance. In this life, the soul is engaged in the practice of “dying”:

If the soul is pure when it leaves the body, and drags nothing bodily with it, having had no willing association with the body during life, but instead avoiding it and gathering itself together by itself—always practicing philosophy in the right way (ὀρθῶς φιλοσοφοῦσα), which is nothing other than training to die easily—is this not training for death? In this state, the soul makes its way to the invisible realm, which is like itself: divine, immortal, and wise. Upon arriving there, it can be happy, having rid itself of confusion, ignorance, fear, violent desires, and the other ills of humanity. As is said of the initiates, it can truly spend the rest of time with the gods.

(Phaedo, 80e–81a)

It is clear that Plato closely aligns the philosophical pursuit of wisdom with the Orphic purification mysteries, as both aim at the soul’s eventual union with the divine. While Plato’s psychology inherits several foundational principles from Orphism, he subjects them to rigorous philosophical reinterpretation: (a) human identity, or the concept the “self,” is rooted not in the physical body but in the inner soul; (b) the soul is endowed with immortality through its participation in the divine and exists beyond the confines of birth and death; (c) death is understood as the separation of two heterogeneous entities, the soul and the body, rather than the mere end of biological life; (d) the soul’s salvation requires a state of purification, which can only be attained through a properly oriented philosophical life in this world.

Plato distinguishes between two distinct states of the soul: the pure, disembodied state (ἀσώματος) and the embodied state, which has been corrupted through its association with the body (Burger 1984, pp. 94–95). In its embodied state, the soul becomes increasingly affected by “body-like” (σωματοειδοῦς) elements (Phaedo 83d, 86a), losing sight of eternal truths and gradually coming to believe that only what is perceptible through the senses is real. Socrates observes that “the body, because it requires food, brings us endless disturbances…it fills us with lust, desire, fear, and various illusions” (Phaedo 66c). This descent into sensory illusion distances the soul from its origin in the realm of Forms. Through philosophical education and disciplined practice, however, the soul can begin to recollect those transcendent realities it once contemplated and resist the temptations of desire, pleasure, and bodily attachment. In this transformation, Plato moves beyond the mystical dimensions of Orphic dualism. The body is no longer viewed as a punishment for Titanic Original Sin, but is reinterpreted as a disruption caused by sensory experience and irrational desires that hinder the philosophical life. At best, the body functions as an obstacle to the soul’s ascent; at worst, it becomes the breeding ground for immoral conduct. The Orphic rituals are thus sublimated into a philosophical practice of spiritual cultivation, in which the purification of the soul depends not on external rites but on intellectual contemplation and inner detachment from bodily urges. Only through such philosophical purification can the soul return to its original, disembodied state and reenter the world of Forms. Plato explicitly invokes an Orphic maxim to underscore this distinction: “Many hold fennel stalks, but few are Bacchic worshippers” (Phaedo 69d). Although many participate in religious mysteries with apparent devotion, only a select few philosophers engage in genuine intellectual reflection and succeed in purifying their souls. Just as the uninitiated are said to remain forever trapped in the mire of Hades (Phaedo 69c), the majority who remain bound to their bodily desires are easily ensnared by the pursuit of superficial pleasures and worldly desires.

3.2. The Function and Mechanism of the Embodied Soul

Discussions concerning the embodied soul demonstrate that Plato did not fully endorse the Orphic doctrine of an irreconcilable opposition between body and soul. Instead, he conceptualized the human soul as both a rational entity akin to the divine and one that necessarily resides within the body, imparting life to it and driving its functions (Broadie 2011, pp. 88–89). The embodiment of the soul provides the foundation for a range of psychological capacities, giving rise to uniquely human experiences such as pleasure, pain, irrational fear, and emotional impulses. These experiences contribute to the formation of the soul’s lower parts, namely desire and spirit. When these parts are properly regulated and harmonized with reason, they play a vital role in ensuring that both the body and soul function in accordance with a rational order (Johansen 2004, pp. 154–55). In the Phaedo, Plato links the degree of embodiment to the hierarchical structure of soul types among mortals. The closer the soul is bound to bodily impulses, the further it is removed from the divine. For example, the souls of conformists are said to be reincarnated as bees or ants, while those of the avaricious and tyrannical are assigned to lives as wolves or hawks (82a–b). Socrates explains that souls, in themselves, are neither superior nor inferior, just as “one harmony is not more or less full, or more or less harmonious than another” (93d). However, Simmias contends that moral differences among individuals suggest qualitative differences among souls (94a–b). In response, Socrates leads him to realize that these differences arise because souls inhabit mortal bodies, and it is through this embodied state that their internal harmony is distorted by the vicissitudes of the body, manifesting as varying temperaments and moral qualities in different individuals. Crucially, Plato maintains that the soul possesses autonomy in determining how it receives and responds to the body’s influences. The soul’s union with the body is not a random occurrence but a necessary phase in its journey toward pure state. Embodiment serves as a necessary state in the soul’s dialectical movement, through self-negation, the soul becomes capable of eventual self-redemption within the physical realm. As Socrates notes, the soul must be “born out of Hades” into all things (72b–d);7 otherwise, all beings would eventually collapse into sameness or vanish entirely from the physical world. In this sense, Plato modifies the Orphic rejection of the body by asserting that only through interaction with the body can the soul reveal its internal structure. In this embodied state, the soul manifests distinct psychological faculties, which give rise to concrete personality, virtue, and the acquisition of knowledge.

In the later dialogues, Plato offers a more comprehensive account of the generation and functioning of the embodied soul through his theories of motion and cosmology. In the Phaedrus, the soul’s essential nature is defined as the immortal “self-mover” (τὸ αὐτὸ αὑτὸ κινοῦν), which is neither subject to destruction nor generation, serving as the source and spring of motion in all other things that move (245c–e). This means that, in a hypothetical ascending order of causes, no further cause of the soul can be superior in terms of its ability to generate motion (Luchetti 2023, p. 4). Every bodily object moved from outside has no soul; it is only through its union with soul that a body is capable of motion that originates from within, thereby possessing life (245e). However, once the soul unites with a mortal body, it is inevitably subjected to changes in life and differentiates into various types. In the Laws, Plato defines the soul’s motion as the “first cause of motion” within a cosmological framework (Johansen 2004, pp. 116–21). The Athenian Stranger affirms that the soul is the primary principle underlying all existence. It governs change in all entities, exists within all living things, and initiates a wide range of movements, including will, investigation, care, contemplation, joy, sorrow, and desire (896c–897a). These primary motions give rise to the growth, decay, combination, and separation of all composite beings, controlling their secondary movements. That is to say, when the soul enters into a body, its unified motion (ἁπλοῦς) becomes fragmented into multiple forms (πολυειδής), signaling a metaphysical fall from its original state. In the Timaeus, through the voice of Timaeus, Plato presents a cosmological myth in which the Demiurge creates various types of mortal beings (41a ff.). Although all souls originate as homogeneous in nature, they are necessarily sown into distinct bodies where they develop perceptions, experience pain and pleasure, and undergo emotional and physiological transformations. Plato further analyzes the cause of somato-psychic disorder, explaining how the body and soul can interact and even alter each other’s states. When the soul, lodged within the body, exerts excessive dominance and becomes inflamed with anger, it throws the entire body out of balance and generates internal disease. Conversely, when the soul becomes absorbed in intellectual pursuits, it may exhaust the body (87e–88a). On the other hand, when an oversized body is joined to a frail and feeble soul, the functions of the latter are rendered dull, stupid and forgetful, thereby producing the gravest disease of all—ignorance (88b).

In the Philebus (34e–36b), Plato offers a more detailed psychological account of the embodied soul. He uses the experiences of thirst and hunger to illustrate the embodied soul as a living, dynamic composite—a “Form of life” (βίου εἶδος). Life activity manifests in alternating states of deprivation and fulfillment. When the body experiences deprivation, such as thirst, the soul responds through memory (μνήμη), reactivating an image of the desired opposite, which sparks appetite (ἐπιθυμία) and drives the organism to seek fulfillment, such as by drinking water (35c). This interaction between body and soul reveals a structured mechanism: bodily deprivation stimulates memory, which in turn gives rise to opposing imagination and culminates in desire. The soul, while embodied, cannot remain in a state of uninterrupted rational contemplation, for it is continually engaged in cycles of deprivation and fulfillment, resulting in the oscillation between pain and pleasure (36b). Nevertheless, embodiment does not entail the complete loss of the soul’s original purity. Rather, it functions as a form of self-negation that simultaneously preserves the transcendent potential. The pure state provides the ideal standard, while embodiment, through the diverse activities within real-world contexts, offers a practical arena for realizing that standard (Bobonich 2002, pp. 224–28). In this view, embodiment becomes a necessary intermediary for the cultivation of virtue. Plato thus conceives the embodied soul not as a fallen entity fixed in a static condition, but as an unfinished and evolving being. Through the acquisition of knowledge and lived experience, particularly through the soul’s engagement with pleasure and pain, it continuously reconstructs its internal order (Garner 2017, p. 93). This ongoing process, if properly guided, may ultimately lead the soul back to its original pure state after death.

4. The Tripartite Soul and the Ethics of the Polis

In both the Homeric epics and the works of Greek tragedians, the soul was rarely considered the seat of reason. Instead, it was associated with courage, passion, compassion, anxiety, and animal appetite (Dodds 1973, pp. 139–40). In certain contexts, the term ψυχή referred to the organ of conscience, often endowed with a form of non-rational perception. For example, Euripides (1997, p. 108) suggests that a baby might perceive the kiss and embrace of his mother through ψυχή without understanding them by means of reason (Daughters of Troy 1070f.). Orphism, however, introduced a clearer distinction between the rational and irrational parts of the soul. Its doctrine of body–soul dualism inherently established a polarity between reason and desire. As mentioned earlier, Orphism views the human soul as a fusion of the violent, material nature of the Titans and the divine purity of Dionysus, a process further shaped by Zeus’ thunderbolt, symbolizing illumination and reason. In his commentary on Plato’s Phaedo (1.9), Damascius (1977, p. 32) notes that the Titanic mode of life is an irrational pattern of existence, one that causes rational life to be torn asunder. When humans seek to belong solely to themselves, their inherent Titan nature drives them to break up the partnership between the superior and the inferior within themselves. This leads to a tearing apart of the inner self, resulting in a division between reason and the irrational or disrupting the natural continuity of human existence. According to Proclus’ commentary on Plato’s Republic (2. 74. 26 = OF 159), Orphism preserved three distinct anthropogenic myths, categorizing humanity into the golden race, the silver race, and the Titan race. Therefore, a person’s life may be shaped by intellectual divinity, occupying the highest position among all beings; or it may be confined to self-serving mediocrity; or it may be drawn toward those irrational beings. This typology suggests that the human soul constantly oscillates between reason and desire, suspended in a state of existential uncertainty and indeterminacy. The Orphic hymns reflect this inner struggle through symbolic language, employing imagery such as “νύξ” (night), “ὁδός” (path), and “ἡγεμών” (guide or leader), which describe the soul’s journey from darkness toward the eternal divine light. In the hymn to Hermes, the god is said to cross Persephone’s “sacred abode” and guide the souls of the sorrowful dead through the underworld, awakening them and opening the eternal path of the human soul (Malamis 2025, p. 89). These texts portray a clear contrast between the underworld, which represents desire and darkness, and the sacred abode, which symbolizes reason and guidance.

In the Gorgias, Plato echoes Orphic insight by observing that “the part of the soul that contains desires is very easily persuaded and swayed” (493a). He compares the soul of the fool to a “leaky jar that can never be filled” (493b), driven by unceasing desires. In contrast, the soul of the temperate person suppresses such impulses, attaining a calm state that avoids both indulgence in pleasure and suffering from pain (493e–494a). Orphism externalizes the conflict between reason and desire as a rupture between body and soul, thus avoiding the internal contradictions inherent in human nature by denigrating the body. However, this one-sided moral framework leads to a serious practical dilemma: if the body is wholly corrupt, how can an embodied soul act ethically or cultivate virtue in the physical world? Plato also regards the soul as the agent of moral action, acknowledging that desire often obstructs the soul’s development and the pursuit of virtue. But he realizes that there are many beliefs, desires, goals, and abilities within human soul, and that simply opposing reason and irrational desires is insufficient to account for the full range of psychological states (Bobonich 2002, p. 217). Therefore, Plato differentiates the distinct parts of the soul, explaining human actions through the interaction of rational and non-rational motivations.

4.1. The Dynamics of Reason, Spirit, and Desire

Plato moves beyond the traditional functional dualism found in earlier Greek religious thought by presenting a more intricate internal structure of soul. In Book IV of the Republic, he introduces the tripartite model of the soul, distinguishing three independent parts of the soul (436a–c). The first is reason (λογιστικόν), which seeks knowledge and truth. The second is spirit (θυμός), the source of indignation, competitiveness, and the longing for self-esteem and respect from others. Spirit often aligns with reason to oppose the third part, desire (ἐπιθυμητικόν), which is responsible for bodily impulses, including hunger, thirst, and the pursuit of sensual pleasures, wealth, and material goods (Cooper 1984, pp. 3–21). This psychological framework is further elaborated in the Timaeus, where Plato grounds the soul’s tripartite structure in a cosmological and anatomical model. He assigns each part of the soul a spatial location within the human body. Reason, being the most divine and rational part, is housed in the spherical head (44d), separated from the lower faculties by the neck to protect it from contamination (69e). Spirit, the seat of courage and righteous indignation (ἀνδρεία καὶ θυμός), resides in the chest, between the diaphragm and the neck. When reason perceives injustice or excess, spirit is stirred and spreads throughout the body, responding to reason’s commands and working with it to restrain desire (70a). Desire, the most corporeal and impulsive part of the soul, resides in the belly. Plato describes the intestines as spiral-shaped and symbolically links them to the insatiable nature of desire, which must be managed like a tamed beast (70d–e). This anatomical mapping of the soul’s faculties reflects Plato’s broader cosmological principle of internal harmony. Just as the Demiurge must balance the elemental forces of fire, water, earth, and air to bring order to the cosmos (32a–c), the human soul must achieve internal harmony through the governance of reason over spirit and appetite. The body thus serves as the vessel through which cosmic rationality is enacted. The divine craftsman, or Demiurge, fashions the cosmic soul according to a divine model, then constructs bodily beings to reflect this internal structure. By aligning the center of the body with the center of the soul according to the same cosmic law (36e), Plato offers a unified vision of psychology and cosmology, where ethical self-governance mirrors the order of the universe itself.

In the allegory of the chariot presented in the Phaedrus, Plato compares the soul to a charioteer guiding a pair of winged horses, illustrating the interplay and dynamic equilibrium among the soul’s three parts (246a–254e). In the soul of the average person, one horse is noble, while the other is vicious and difficult to control (246b). The charioteer, representing reason, journeys toward the realm of the Forms and continually gazes upon the light of truth (247c–e). The noble horse, corresponding to spirit (θυμός), is characterized by love of honor, moderation (σωφροσύνη), modesty (αἰδώς), and loyalty to true belief (ἀληθινὴ δόξα), making it receptive to guidance. The vicious horse, symbolizing desire (ἐπιθυμία), is impulsive (ὕφαιμος), indulgent (ὕβρις), and aligned with illusion and arrogance (ἀλαζονεία) (253d–e). Compared to the tripartite model in the Republic, this poetic metaphor offers a dynamic portrayal of the soul’s internal tensions in its embodied state, as the three parts interact and pull in opposing directions. For most people, the soul is perpetually rising and falling, struggling to ascend toward truth (248a). While the charioteer constantly strives for upward motion, the vicious horse resists, stumbling and refusing to listen (ὑπηκόων) to reason’s control (247b, 254a). The noble horse acts as an intermediary: though it is not identical to reason, it naturally supports rational guidance through spirited motivations such as shame and indignation. It may either serve the appetite and lower desires, leading the soul’s chariot toward its fall, or contribute to its ascent. In this sense, the noble horse is somewhat analogous to eros, illuminated by divine madness (θεία μανία), which lacks a fixed direction of progress (249d–e, 253d). This dual tendency underscores spirit’s role as the mediating force between reason and desire.

4.2. The Mediating Role of Spirit

In Plato’s dialogues, thymos (spirit) serves as the internal motivation behind human actions, encompassing a variety of elements. Firstly, spirit is an innate, primal impulse shared between humans and animals (Republic, 441a–b), and its core function is to drive anger, combativeness, and harshness. Secondly, spirit also has emotional dimensions such as pride, awe, and shame. On the one hand, spirit involves admiration for what is admirable, a desire to praise others’ admirable actions, and pride in one’s own perceived admirable qualities. On the other hand, it manifests as an aversion to what is shameful, leading to blame, disgust, and disdain toward dishonorable actions (Wilburn 2021, pp. 35–36). In the Republic, Plato presents the dramatic episode of Leontius (Λεόντιος) encountering a corpse: when Leontius sees the corpse of an executed criminal, he feels torn between a rational aversion to looking and a desire to gaze upon the spectacle. Ultimately, he gives in to his desire and curses himself in anger.8 The philosophical significance of this narrative lies in its challenge to the Orphic dualism. The corpse, as a “dead body,” concretely represents the Orphic doctrine that “the body is the tomb.” When the person is forced to confront this “alienated self,” the irrational impulse of desire is fully revealed. The ensuing “angry cursing” reveals a third dimension of the soul—spirit—beyond reason and desire, a force that cannot be contained within the Orphic binary framework. Finally, spirit is also revealed in sensitivity to honor and a desire for victory. Plato explicitly refers to the spirited motivation of the soul as “love of victory” (φιλονίκον) and “love of honor” (φιλοτιμόν) (581a–b), noting that in a polity governed by passion, “the most notable characteristic is the love of victory and honor” (548c).

Through the concept of thymos (spirit), Plato transcends the Orphic body–soul dualism and transitions to a tripartite theory of the soul. It is evident that he does not accept the simplistic explanation that human disunity arises merely from the corruption of the body. Rather, Plato deeply acknowledges that human nature is always caught in the contradictory conflict between reason and desire. The concept of thymos accurately captures a “mediating state” in human souls. It is neither entirely governed by reason nor fully subjugated to desire, but occupies a condition of hesitation and uncertainty, capable of moving in multiple directions. The dual mediating function of spirit provides a mechanism by which the human soul, often in a state of indeterminacy, can govern itself and achieve internal order. Furthermore, Plato’s concept of thymos constitutes a defining feature of the embodied soul. In its pure state, the soul is devoid of spirit; it is only upon descending into a mortal body and undergoing bodily corruption that the soul acquires spirit, which contains both noble and base aspects. In other words, spirit is the product of the soul’s embodiment, not an innate property of the immortal soul. Plato’s tripartite model positions spirit as the intermediary between soul and body, and between reason and desire. The ambiguity of spirit’s role allows it to belong fully neither to reason nor to desire, yet to connect the two. This connection fosters a balance between the tyranny of unrestrained reason and the abyss of unchecked desire. The indeterminate force carried by spirit provides the raw impetus for ethical decision-making in specific contexts (Broadie 1991, pp. 58–61), pushing the individual to transform external moral norms into an inner awakening of vital force. Through the indeterminacy of spirit, Plato reveals the deeper essence of the soul–body relationship. Although the soul and body remain in a state of intimate yet fractured separation, it is through repeated moral choices in lived experience that their connection becomes increasingly integrated. The individual, through these choices, continually reaffirms and reshapes the self. Virtue, then, is not the absolute negation of the body by the soul, but rather the natural flourishing of the embodied soul within the mortal body.

4.3. Political Order and the Order of the Soul

In the analogy between the city and the soul, Plato aligns the different classes of the city with the parts of the soul, thereby revealing the profound relationship between political order and the order of the soul through the isomorphism of civic structure and individual psychology. The city is divided into three classes (441a): rulers (βουλευτικόν), auxiliaries (ἐπικουρητικόν), and producers (χρηματιστικόν). In the ideal just city, the rulers, guided by philosophical wisdom, are responsible for making “good plans” (εὔβουλος) for the city. This wisdom stems from ἐπιστήμη (knowledge) and grounded in reason (428b). The auxiliaries, endowed with courage (ἀνδρεία), defend the security of the city while obediently following the guidance of the rulers. The producers maintain stability through σωφροσύνη (moderation), contributing to the city’s prosperity by generating material wealth. Justice in the city is achieved when each individual performs the task suited to their φύσις (nature), with each class fulfilling its designated role. Likewise, individual justice arises from the harmonious functioning of the soul, in which each part executes its proper function without interference. Socrates emphasizes, the aim is not the special happiness of any one class, but the collective happiness of the city as a whole (420b). Thus, both the city and the individual are governed by the same principle of justice: promoting the highest good by allowing each part to realize its nature and fulfill its function to the fullest extent.

The realization of this ethical order within the city hinges on cultivating the virtue of the auxiliaries’ souls, which are characterized by a dominant thymos. Just as the role of spirit in the soul remains inherently indeterminate, the auxiliaries of the city embody both a danger and the potential to preserve the city’s order. They are capable of protecting the city by defeating external enemies, but also present a latent threat if their strength turns inward as civil unrest. To shape this volatile yet essential class, Plato proposes a dual educational path for the auxiliaries. They must study μουσική (music) to temper their wild instincts through lyric poetry, and engage in γυμναστική (gymnastics) to stimulate and refine their spirited nature through physical discipline (410c–412b). This educational regimen cultivates a character defined by a balance of moderation and fierceness. The education of the auxiliaries exemplifies the embodiment of spirit’s intermediary function in the civic realm. Unlike the philosopher-king, they are not guided purely by reason, nor are they, like the producers, subject to base desires. Instead, their actions are shaped by honor (τιμή) and shame (αἰδώς). When auxiliaries face external threats with measured boldness or quell internal discord with controlled strength, they mirror the operation of spirit within the individual soul. The cultivation of the soul, therefore, is not aimed at eradicating the conflict between body and soul, or reason and desire, by subordinating one to the other. Rather, Plato envisions transforming this conflict into a generative force of order, both within the soul and within the city.

5. Conclusions

In summary, Plato adopts a seemingly paradoxical stance toward mythological narratives and doctrines of the Orphic tradition. While he frequently draws upon Orphism as an introductory framework for his moral psychology, he ultimately transcends its rigid body–soul dualism. The Orphic tradition, centered around the myth of “Titanic Original Sin,” conceptualizes the body as a prison that confines the divine soul. It asserts that the soul must undergo ritual purification to escape bodily entrapment and return to its divine origin. Although Plato references this doctrine in dialogues such as the Phaedo, Republic and Cratylus, he astutely identifies its internal contradictions. If the soul is somehow defiled through its association with the body, its very nature must be entwined with embodied existence. Plato affirms the soul’s divine transcendence beyond the body, but he simultaneously insists that embodiment is an inescapable state of human soul. By distinguishing between the soul’s pure and embodied states, Plato argues that while the body does obstruct the pursuit of a philosophical life, it also endows the soul with emotional and appetitive faculties in the process of embodiment, playing a constructive role in the soul’s journey toward self-knowledge and truth. In assigning thymos a dynamic and mediating role, Plato reinterprets the soul–body relationship. The body is no longer viewed as a prison that confines the soul, but rather as a necessary arena for the soul’s self-realization and moral development. The perfection of the human soul, therefore, does not consist in fleeing the physical world, but in directing thymos through rational guidance, regulating desire through the cultivation of virtue, and achieving harmonious order both within the individual and the political community.

Plato’s treatment of Orphism reveals his strategic use of mythos in the philosophical discourse primarily driven by logos (reason). In Plato’s dialogues, myths often function as vessels of collective memory, crafted by poets or religious figures through specific narrative forms (Republic, 377a–378e). These myths preserve the ancient Greeks’ shared imaginings of primeval history and convey the customs and moral values of the polis. But myths themselves lack universality and logical coherence, and their internal connections are often contingent (Brisson 1998, pp. 91–104). For this reason, philosophers can modify existing myths by adding or subtracting content, breaking their structure, and thereby constructing new systems of meaning. Plato’s dialogues exhibit a deliberate interplay between philosophical argument and mythological narratives. On the one hand, Plato sharply critiques the myths of poets like Homer and Hesiod, calling for the prohibition of unexamined secular poetry and even the expulsion of poets from the educational institutions of city. In the Republic, he condemns traditional myths, particularly those depicting death as a terrifying event, arguing that such portrayals could lead the youth away from virtuous living (387c). Adimantus also criticizes certain poets and the unjust for using the works of Orpheus and Musaeus, which convince not only individuals but whole cities that sacrifices and pleasant rituals can absolve or purify the immoral deeds of both the living and the dead (364e).9 On the other hand, Plato seeks to harness the auxiliary function of myths in the pursuit of truth and in educating the masses by formulating laws governing mythological themes and styles. In the Laws, Plato reconfigures the cosmological myth into a form of religious poetry. By introducing the notion of a “prologue” (προοίμιον) to the laws, he reveals that legislation should not consist solely of coercive commands, but must also be accompanied by persuasive myths (παραμυθίας) to mediate the tension between punishment and education (720a). In the Republic, Plato acknowledges that discussions of the gods cannot yield an absolutely true account, as the nature of the subject matter dictates that we can only make a story as much like the truth as we can. He notes that, due to our ignorance regarding ancient events, it is necessary to construct fictive narratives (382c–d). The noble lies in the Republic and the persuasive myths in the Laws serve exemplify how philosophical argument can be strengthened through the persuasive power of myth.

The Orphic doctrines referenced in Plato’s dialogues share a similar function to the “noble lies” and the “prologue of law”. The inherent limitations of human nature in accessing the truth about matters concerning the soul and the gods—subjects we deeply desire to understand but cannot empirically verify—justify the construction of this unique type of discourse (Macías 2022, p. 8). As Nightingale observes, Plato presents these two aspects of his thought through distinct literary styles—analytical arguments and rhetorical/mythical discourses. In engaging with the divine realm, he turns to non-analytic discourses. While philosophers can attain knowledge of the essence of a given Form, they cannot fully grasp its divine nature (Nightingale 2021, p. 11). Myths, being unverifiable by empirical means, rely on emotional resonance and communal piety rather than rational argument. Thus, interlocutors accept these myths not due to logical validation but because of shared culture and the emotive force of the narrative. Plato integrates myth with philosophical reasoning to create a discursive paradigm endowed with sacred authority, challenging interlocutors to critically examine their ordinary opinions. This strategy reflects his awareness of the role of the non-rational parts of the soul. By drawing on the mystique and power of myth, Plato seeks to temper the impulses of spirit and desire, while simultaneously leveraging the intuitive revelations embedded in myths to support philosophical arguments. Plato’ s adaptation and transformation of Orphism demonstrate that reliance on a single form of discourse is insufficient to reveal the essence of the soul. Within his framework, religious traditions become rhetorical and educational tools, through which philosophers engage, instruct, and uplift the moral virtue of the interlocutors. In this way, mythos ceases to stand in opposition to logos and instead becomes a medium through which philosophical truths can be communicated to the broader public.