Phil Pape 1

BOOK I

Socrates: I went down to the Piraeus^ yesterday with Glaucon, son of Ariston,^ to pray to the goddess; and, at the same time, I wanted to ob-

serve how they would put on the festival,^ since they were now hold- ing it for the first time. Now, in my opinion, the procession of the native inhabitants was fine; but the one the Thracians conducted was no less

fitting a show. After we had prayed and looked on, we went off toward town.

Catching sight of us from afar as we were pressing homewards, Polemarchus, son of Cephalus, ordered his slave boy to run after us and

order us to wait for him. The boy took hold of my cloak from behind and said, "Polemarchus orders you to wait."

And I turned around and asked him where his master was. "He is coming up behind," he said, "just wait."

"Of course we'll wait," said Glaucon.

A moment later Polemarchus came along with Adeimantus, Glau- con's brother, Niceratus, son of Nicias, and some others—apparently from the procession. Polemarchus said, "Socrates, I guess you two are

hurrying to get away to town."

"That's not a bad guess," I said.

"Well, " he said, "do you see how many of us there are?

"

"Of course."

"Well, then," he said, "either prove stronger than these men or stay here."

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socrates/polemarchus/glaucon/adeimantus/cephalus the RErUBLIC

227 c "Isn't there still one other possibility . . . ," I said, "our per-

suading you that you must let us go?"

"Could you really persuade," he said, "if we don't listen?" "There's no way," said Glaucon.

"Well, then, think it over, bearing in mind we won't listen."

328 a Then Adeimantus said, "Is it possible you don't know that at sun-

set there will be a torch race on horseback for the goddess?"

"On horseback?" I said. "That is novel. Will they hold torches and pass them to one another while racing the horses, or what do you

mean?"

"That's it," said Polemarchus, "and, besides, they'll put on an all-

night festival that will be worth seeing. We'll get up after dinner and go

to see it; there we'll be together with many of the young men and we'll b talk. So stay and do as I tell you."

And Glaucon said, "It seems we must stay." "Well, if it is so resolved,"^ I said, "that's how we must act." Then we went to Polemarchus' home; there we found Lysias'^ and

Euthydemus, Polemarchus' brothers, and, in addition, Thrasymachus,^

the Chalcedonian and Charmantides, the Paeanian,^ and Cleito- phonji** the son of Aristonymus.

Cephalus,!! Polemarchus' father, was also at home; and he

c seemed very old to me, for I had not seen him for some time. He was seated on a sort of cushioned stool and was crowned with a wreath, for

he had just performed a sacrifice in the courtyard. We sat down beside him, for some stools were arranged in a circle there. As soon as Ceph-

alus saw me, he greeted me warmly and said: "Socrates, you don't come down to us in the Piraeus very often,

yet you ought to. Now if I still had the strength to make the trip to town easily, there would be no need for you to come here; rather we

d would come to you. As it is, however, you must come here more fre- quently. I want you to know that as the other pleasures, those con- nected with the body, wither away in me, the desires and pleasures that have to do with speeches grow the more. Now do as I say: be with these young men, but come here regularly to us as to friends and your very own kin."

"For my part, Cephalus, I am really delighted to discuss with the e very old," I said. "Since they are like men who have proceeded on a

certain road that perhaps we too will have to take, one ought, in my opinion, to learn from them what sort of road it is—^whether it is rough and hard or easy and smooth. From you in particular I should like to learn how it looks to you, for you are now at just the time of life the

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Book 1 1 327c-330a socrates/cephalus

poets call 'the threshold of old age.''^ is it a hard time of life, or what 328 c

have you to report of it?"

"By Zeus, I shall tell you just how it looks to me, Socrates," he said. "Some of us who are about the same age often meet together and 329 a keep up the old proverb. '^^ Now then, when they meet, most of the members of our group lament, longing for the pleasures of youth and reminiscing about sex, about drinking bouts and feasts and all that goes

with things of that sort; they take it hard as though they were deprived

of something very important and had then lived well but are now not even alive. Some also bewail the abuse that old age receives from b relatives, and in this key they sing a refrain about all the evils old age

has caused them. But, Socrates, in my opinion these men do not put their fingers on the cause. For, if this were the cause, I too would have

suffered these same things insofar as they depend on old age and so

would everyone else who has come to this point in life. But as it is, I have encountered others for whom it was not so, especially Sophocles. I was once present when the poet was asked by someone, 'Sophocles, how are you in sex? Can you still have intercourse with a woman?' c 'Silence, man,' he said. 'Most joyfully did I escape it, as though I had

run away from a sort of frenzied and savage master.' I thought at the

time that he had spoken well and I still do. For, in every way, old age

brings great peace and freedom from such things. When the desires cease to strain and finally relax, then what Sophocles says comes to pass

in every way; it is possible to be rid of very many mad masters. But of d these things and of those that concern relatives, there is one just

cause: not old age, Socrates, but the character of the human beings. ^4

If they are orderly and content with themselves, ^^ even old age is only

moderately troublesome; if they are not, then both age, Socrates, and

youth alike turn out to be hard for that sort."

Then I was full of wonder at what he said and, wanting him to say still more, I stirred him up, saying: "Cephalus, when you say these e things, I suppose that the manyi^ do not accept them from you, but

believe rather that it is not due to character that you bear old age so

easily but due to possessing great substance. They say that for the rich

there are many consolations. '

"What you say is true," he said. "They do not accept them. And they do have something there, but not, however, quite as much as they think; rather, the saying of Themistocles holds good. When a Seriphian abused him—saying that he was illustrious not thanks to himself but 330 a thanks to the city—he answered that if he himself had been a Seriphian he would not have made a name, nor would that man have made one

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CEPHALUS/SOCRATIES THE REPUBLIC

330 a had he been an Athenian. And the same argument also holds good for those who are not wealthy and bear old age with difficulty: the decent man would not bear old age with poverty very easily, nor would the one who is not a decent sort ever be content with himself even if he were wealthy."

"Cephalus," I said, "did you inherit or did you earn most of what

you possess?"

b "What do you mean, earned, Socrates!" he said. "As a money-

maker, I was a sort of mean between my grandfather and my father. For my grandfather, whose namesake I am, inherited pretty nearly as much substance as I now possess, and he increased it many times over. Lysanias, my father, used it to a point where it was still less than it is now. I am satisfied if I leave not less, but rather a bit more than I inherited, to my sons here."

"The reason I asked, you see," I said, "is that to me you didn't c seem overly fond of money. For the most part, those who do not make

money themselves are that way. Those who do make it are twice as at- tached to it as the others. For just as poets are fond of their poems and

fathers of their children, so money-makers too are serious about

money—as their own product; and they also are serious about it for the same reason other men are—for its use. They are, therefore, hard even to be with because they are willing to praise nothing but wealth."

"What you say is true," he said.

d "Indeed it is," I said. "But tell me something more. What do you suppose is the greatest good that you have enjoyed from possessing

great wealth?"

"What I say wouldn't persuade many perhaps. For know well, Socrates," he said, "that when a man comes near to the realiza- tion that he will be making an end, fear and care enter him for things to

which he gave no thought before. The tales^^ told about what is in

Hades—that the one who has done unjust deeds^^ here must pay the e penalty there—at which he laughed up to then, now make his soul twist

and turn because he fears they might be true. Whether it is due to the debility of old age, or whether he discerns something more of the things in that place because he is already nearer to them, as it were—he is, at any rate, now full of suspicion and terror; and he reckons up his ac- counts and considers whether he has done anything unjust to anyone.

Now, the man who finds many unjust deeds in his life often even wakes from his sleep in a fright as children do, and lives in anticipation of

evil. To the man who is conscious in himself of no unjust deed, sweet 331 a and good hope is ever beside him—a nurse of his old age, as Pindar

puts it. For, you know, Socrates, he put it charmingly when he said that whoever lives out a just and holy life

Book 1 1 330a-332a cephalus/socrates/polemarchus

Sweet hope accompanies, 331 a Fostering his heart, a nurse of his old age,

Hope which most of all pilots

The ever-turning opinion of mortals.

How very wonderfully well he says that. For this I count the possession of money most wroth-while, not for any man, but for the decent and or- derly one. The possession of money contributes a great deal to not b cheating or lying to any man against one's will, and, moreover, to not departing for that other place frightened because one owes some sacrifices to a god or money to a human being. It also has many other uses. But, still, one thing reckoned against another, I wouldn't count

this as the least thing, Socrates, for which wealth is very useful to an in-

telligent man. "

"What you say is very fine'^ indeed, Cephalus," I said. "But as c

to this very thing, justice, shall we so simply assert that it is the truth and giving back what a man has taken from another, or is to do these very things sometimes just and sometimes unjust? Take this case as an

example of what I mean: everyone would surely say that if a man takes weapons from a friend when the latter is of sound mind, and the friend demands them back when he is mad, one shouldn't give back such things, and the man who gave them back would not be just, and moreover, one should not be willing to tell someone in this state the

whole truth.

"

"What you say is right," he said. d "Then this isn't the definition of justice, speaking the truth and

giving back what one takes."

"It most certainly is, Socrates," interrupted Polemarchus, "at least

if Simonides should be believed at all."

"Well, then, " said Cephalus, "I hand down the argument to you, for it's already time for me to look after the sacrifices.

"

"Am I not the heir of what belongs to you?" said Polemarchus. 20

"Certainly," he said and laughed. And with that he went away to the sacrifices. 21

"Tell me, you, the heir of the argument, " I said, "what was it Si- e

monides said about justice that you assert he said correctly?

"

"That it is just to give to each what is owed," he said. "In saying

this he said a fine thing, at least in my opinion. "

"Well, it certainly isn't easy to disbelieve a Simonides,' I said.

"He is a wise and divine man. However, you, Polemarchus, perhaps know what on earth he means, but I don't understand. For plainly he doesn't mean what we were just saying—giving back to any man what- soever something he has deposited when, of unsound mind, he demands

it. And yet, what he deposited is surely owed to him, isn't it?" 332 a

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POLEMARCHUS/SOCRATES THE REPUBLIC

332 a "Yes."

"But, when of unsound mind he demands it, it should under no condition be given back to him?"

"True," he said.

"Then Simonides, it seems, means something different from this

sort of thing when he says that it is just to give back what is owed." "Of course it's different, by Zeus," he said. "For he supposes that

friends owe it to friends to do some good and nothing bad."

"I understand," I said. "A man does not give what is owed in giv- ing back gold to someone who has deposited it, when the giving and the

b taking turn out to be bad, assuming the taker and the giver are

friends. Isn't this what you assert Simonides means?"

"Most certainly."

"Now, what about this? Must we give back to enemies whatever is owed to them?"

"That's exactly it," he said, "just what's owed to them. And I suppose that an enemy owes his enemy the very thing which is also fitting: some harm."

"Then, " I said, "it seems that Simonides made a riddle, after the c fashion of poets, when he said what the just is. For it looks as if he

thought that it is just to give to everyone what is fitting, and to this he

gave the name 'what is owed. "

"What else do you think?" he said.

"In the name of Zeus," I said, "if someone were to ask him, 'Simonides, the ait^ called medicine gives what that is owed and

fitting to which things?' what do you suppose he would answer us?"

"It's plain," he said, "drugs, foods and drinks to bodies."

"The art called cooking gives what that is owed and fitting to

which things?

"

d "Seasonings to meats. "

"All right. Now then, the art that gives what to which things would be called justice?"

"If the answer has to be consistent with what preceded, Socrates,"

he said, "the one that gives benefits and harms to friends and enemies."

"Does he mean that justice is doing good to friends and harm

to enemies?'

"In my opinion." "With respect to disease and health, who is most able to do good

to sick friends and bad to enemies? "

"A doctor."

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Book 1 1 332a-333c socrates/polemarchus

"And with respect to the danger of the sea, who has this power 332 e over those who are saihng?"

"A pilot."

"And what about the just man, in what action and with respect to

what work is he most able to help friends and harm enemies?"

"In my opinion it is in making war and being an ally in battle." "All right. However, to men who are not sick, my friend Polemar-

chus, a doctor is useless."

"True."

"And to men who are not sailing, a pilot.

"

"Yes."

"Then to men who are not at war, is the just man useless?" "Hardly so, in my opinion." "Then is justice also useful in peacetime?"

"It is useful." 333 a

"And so is farming, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"For the acquisition of the fruits of the earth?"

"Yes."

"And, further, is shoemaking also useful?"

"Yes."

"You would say, I suppose, for the acquisition of shoes?"

"Certainly."

"What about justice then? For the use or acquisition of what

would you say it is useful in peacetime?"

"Contracts, Socrates."

"Do you mean by contracts, partnerships, ^^ or something else?" "Partnerships, of course."

"Then is the just man a good and useful partner in setting down b draughts, or is it the skilled player of draughts

?"24

"The skilled player of draughts."

"In setting down bricks and stones, is the just man a more useful and better partner than the housebuilder?"

"Not at all."

"But in what partnership then is the just man a better partner than the harp player, just as the harp player is better than the just man when one has to do with notes?"

"In money matters, in my opinion." "Except perhaps in using money, Polemarchus, when a horse

must be bought or sold with money in partnership; then, I suppose, the expert on horses is a better partner. Isn't that so?

"

c

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POLEMABCHUS/SOCRATES THE REPUBLIC

333 c "It looks like it."

"And, further, when it's a ship, the shipbuilder or pilot is better?"

"It seems so."

"Then, when gold or silver must be used in partnership, in what

case is the just man more useful than the others?" "When they must be deposited and kept safe, Socrates." "Do you mean when there is no need to use them, and they are

left lying?"

"Certainly."

d "Is it when money is useless that justice is useful for it?"

"I'm afraid so."

"And when a pruning hook must be guarded, justice is useful both

in partnership and in private; but when it must be used, vine-cul- ture."

"It looks like it."

"Will you also assert that when a shield and a lyre must be guarded and not used, justice is useful; but when they must be used, the soldier's art and the musician's art are useful?"

"Necessarily."

"And with respect to everything else as well, is justice useless in the use of each and useful in its uselessness?"

"I'm afraid so."

e "Then justice, my friend, wouldn't be anything very serious, if it is useful for useless things. Let's look at it this way. Isn't the man who is cleverest at landing a blow in boxing, or any other kind of fight, also the one cleverest at guarding against it?"

"Certainly."

"And whoever is clever at guarding against disease is also

cleverest at getting away with producing it?" "In my opinion, at any rate." "And, of course, a good guardian of an army is the very same man

334 a who can also steal the enemy's plans and his other dispositions?" "Certainly."

"So of whatever a man is a clever guardian, he is also a clever thief?"

"It seems so."

"So that if a man is clever at guarding money, he is also clever at stealing it?"

"So the argument's indicates at least," he said.

"The just man, then, as it seems, has come to light as a kind of robber, and I'm afraid you learned this from Homer. For he admires

b Autolycus, Odysseus' grandfather'^ on his mother's side, and says he

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Book 1 1 333c-335a socrates/polemarchus

surpassed all men 'in stealing and in swearing oaths.' Justice, then, 334 b seems, according to you and Homer and Simonides, to be a certain art of stealing, for the benefit, to be sure, of friends and the harm of ene-

mies. Isn't that what you meant?"

"No, by Zeus," he said. "But I no longer know what I did mean. However, it is still my opinion that justice is helping friends and harming enemies.

"

"Do you mean by friends those who seem to be good to an in- c dividual, or those who are, even if they don't seem to be, and similarly with enemies?"

"It's likely, " he said, "that the men one believes to be good, one loves, while those he considers bad one hates."

"But don't human beings make mistakes about this, so that many seem to them to be good although they are not, and vice versa?

"

"They do make mistakes.

"

"So for them the good are enemies and the bad are friends? "

"Certainly."

"But nevertheless it's still just for them to help the bad and harm

the good?" d

"It looks like it."

"Yet the good are just and such as not to do injustice?

"

"True."

"Then, according to your argument, it's just to treat badly men who have done nothing unjust?

"

"Not at all, Socrates," he said. "For the argument seems to be

bad."

"Then, after all," I said, "it's just to harm the unjust and help the

just?"

"This looks finer than what we just said." "Then for many, Polemarchus—all human beings who make

mistakes—it will turn out to be just to harm friends, for their friends e are bad; and just to help enemies, for they are good. So we shall say the very opposite of what we asserted Simonides means."

"It does really turn out that way, " he said. "But let's change what

we set down at the beginning. For I'm afraid we didn't set down the definition of friend and enemy correctly."

"How did we do it, Polemarchus?" "We set dovwi that the man who seems good is a friend.

"

"Now," I said, "how shall we change it?" "The man who seems to be, and is, good, is a friend," he said,

"while the man who seems good and is not, seems to be but is not a 335 a friend. And we'll take the same position about the enemy."

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SOCRATES/POLEMARCHUS THE REPUBLIC

335 a "Then the good man, as it seems, will by this argument be a

friend, and the good-for-nothing man an enemy?" "Yes."

"You order us to add something to what we said at first about the just. Then we said that it is just to do good to the friend and bad to the enemy, while now we are to say in addition that it is just to do good to the friend, if he is good, and harm to the enemy, if he is bad."

b "Most certainly," he said. "Said in that way it would be fine in my opinion."

"Is it, then," I said, "the part of a just man to harm any human being whatsoever?"

"Certainly," he said, "bad men and enemies ought to be harmed." "Do horses that have been harmed become better or worse?" "Worse."

"With respect to the virtue^^ of dogs or to that of horses?"

"With respect to that of horses."

"And when dogs are harmed, do they become worse with respect to the virtue of dogs and not to that of horses?"

"Necessarily."

c "Should we not assert the same of human beings, my comrade

—

that when they are harmed, they become worse with respect to human virtue?"

"Most certainly."

"But isn't justice human virtue?" "That's also necessary."

"Then, my friend, human beings who have been harmed necessarily become more unjust.

"

"It seems so."

"Well, are musicians able to make men unmusical by music?" "Impossible."

"Are men skilled in horsemanship able to make men incompetent riders by horsemanship?"

"That can't be. "

"But are just men able to make others unjust by justice, of all d things? Or, in sum, are good men able to make other men bad by vir-

tue?"

"Impossible."

"For I suppose that cooling is not the work of heat, but of its op-

posite."

"Yes."

"Nor wetting the work of dryness but of its opposite."

"Certainly,"

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Book 1 1 335a-336d socrates/polemarchus/thrasymachus

"Nor is harming, in fact, the work of the good but of its opposite." 335 d "It looks like it."

"And it's the just man who is good?" "Certainly.

"

"Then it is not the work of the just man to harm either a friend or anyone else, Polemarchus, but of his opposite, the unjust man."

"In my opinion, Socrates," he said, "what you say is entirely true."

"Then if someone asserts that it's just to give what is owed to each e man—and he understands by this that harm is owed to enemies by the just man and help to friends—the man who said it was not wise. For he wasn't telling the truth. For it has become apparent to us that it is never just to harm anyone."

"I agree," he said.

"We shall do battle then as partners, you and I," I said, "if someone asserts that Simonides, or Bias, or Pittacus^ or any other

wise and blessed man said it." "I, for one," he said, "am ready to be your partner in the battle.

"

"Do you know," I said, "to whom, in my opinion, that saying 336 a belongs which asserts that it is just to help friends and harm ene- mies?"

"To whom?" he said. "I suppose it belongs to Periander, or Perdiccas, or Xerxes, or

Ismenias the Theban,^^ or some other rich man who has a high opinion of what he can do."

"What you say is very true," he said.

"All right," I said, "since it has become apparent that neither

justice nor the just is this, what else would one say they are?"

Now Thrasymachus had many times started out to take over the b argument in the midst of our discussion, but he had been restrained by

the men sitting near him, who wanted to hear the argument out. But when we paused and I said this, he could no longer keep quiet; hunched up like a wild beast, he flung himself at us as if to tear us

to pieces. Then both Polemarchus and I got all in a flutter from fright.

And he shouted out into our midst and said, "What is this nonsense that has possessed you for so long, Socrates? And why do you act like c fools making way for one another? If you truly want to know what the just is, don't only ask and gratify your love of honor by refuting

whatever someone answers—you know that it is easier to ask than to answer—but answer yourself and say what you assert the just to be. And see to it you don't tell me that it is the needful, or the helpful, d or the profitable, or the gainful, or the advantageous; but tell me

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THHASYMACHUS/SOCRATES THEREPUBLIC

336 d clearly and precisely what you mean, for I ' won't accept it if you say such inanities."

I was astounded when I heard him, and, looking at him, I was frightened. I think that if I had not seen him before he saw me, I would have been speechless.^" As it was, just when he began to be ex- asperated by the argument, I had looked at him first, so that I was able

e to answer him; and with just a trace of a tremor, I said: "Thrasyma- chus, don't be hard on us. If we are making any mistake in the con- sideration of the arguments, Polemarchus and I, know well that we're making an unwilling mistake. If we were searching for gold we would never willingly make way for one another in the search and ruin our chances of finding it; so don't suppose that when we are seeking for justice, a thing more precious than a great deal of gold, we would ever foolishly give in to one another and not be as serious as we can be about bringing it to light. Don't you suppose that, my friend! Rather, as I suppose, we are not competent. So it's surely far more fitting for us to

337 a be pitied by you clever men than to be treated harshly." He listened, burst out laughing very scornfully, and said,

"Heracles! Here is that habitual irony of Socrates. I knew it, and I pre- dicted to these fellows that you wouldn't be willing to answer, that

you would be ironic and do anything rather than answer if someone

asked you something."

"That's because you are wise, Thrasymachus," I said. "Hence you knew quite well that if you asked someone how much twelve is and in

b asking told him beforehand, 'See to it you don't tell me, you human being, that it is two times six, or three times four, or six times two, or four times three; I won't accept such nonsense from you'—it was plain to you, I suppose, that no one would answer a man who asks in this way. And if he asked, 'Thrasymachus, what do you mean? Shall I answer none of those you mentioned before? Even if it happens to be one of these, shall I say something other than the truth, you surprising

c man? Or what do you mean?'—what would you say to him in re- sponse?"

"Very well," he said, "as if this case were similar to the other." "Nothing prevents it from being," I said. "And even granting that

it's not similar, but looks like it is to the man who is asked, do you think he'll any the less answer what appears to him, whether we forbid him to or not?"

"Well, is that what you are going to do?" he said. "Are you going to give as an answer one of those I forbid?"

"I shouldn't be surprised," I said, "if that were my opinion upon consideration."

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Book I / 336d-338c thrasymachus/socrates/glaucon

"What if I could show you another answer about justice besides 337 d all these and better than they are?" he said. "What punishment do you think you would deserve to suffer?"

"What else than the one it is fitting for a man who does not know to suffer?" I said. "And surely it is fitting for him to learn from the man who knows. So this is what I think I deserve to suffer."

"That's because you are an agreeable chap!" he said. "But in ad- dition to learning, pay a fine in money too."

"When I get some," I said. "He has some," said Glaucon. "Now, for money's sake, speak,

Thrasymachus. We shall all contribute for Socrates."^i "I certainly believe it," he said, "so that Socrates can get away e

with his usual trick; he'll not answer himself, and when someone else

has answered he gets hold of the argument and refutes it."

"You best of men," I said, "how could a man answer who, in the first place, does not know and does not profess to know; and who, in the second place, even if he does have some supposition about these things, is forbidden to say what he believes by no ordinary man? It's ^ more fitting for you to speak; for you are the one who says he knows 338 a and can tell. Now do as I say; gratify me by answering and don't be- grudge your teaching to Glaucon here and the others."

After I said this, Glaucon and the others begged him to do as I

said. And Thrasymachus evidently desired to speak so that he could win a good reputation, since he believed he had a very fine answer. But

he kept up the pretense of wanting to prevail on me to do the answer- ing. Finally, however, he conceded and then said:

"Here is the wisdom of Socrates; unwilling himself to teach, he b

goes around learning from others, and does not even give thanks to

them."

"When you say I learn from others," I said, "you speak the truth,

Thrasymachus; but when you say I do not make full payment in thanks,

you lie. For I pay as much as I can. I am only able to praise. I have no money. How eagerly I do so when I think someone speaks well, you will well know as soon as you have answered; for I suppose you will

speak well."

"Now Hsten," he said. "I say that the just is nothing other than the c

advantage of the stronger.^2 vVell, why don't you praise me? But you won't be willing."

"First I must learn what you mean," I said. "For, as it is, I don't

yet understand. You say the just is the advantage of the stronger. What ever do you mean by that, Thrasymachus? You surely don't assert such a thing as this: if Polydamas, the pancratiast,^^ is stronger than we are

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338 d and beef is' advantageous for his body, then this food is also ad-

vantageous and just for us who are weaker than he is." "You are disgusting, Socrates," he said. "You take hold of the

argument in the way you can work it the most harm." , "Not at all, best of men," I said. "Just tell me more clearly what

you mean."

"Don't you know," he said, "that some cities are ruled tyrannical-

ly, some democratically, and some aristocratically?"

"Of course."

"In each city, isn't the ruling group master?"

"Certainly."

e "And each ruling group sets dovm laws for its own advantage; a democracy sets down democratic laws; a tyranny, tyrannic laws; and

the others do the same. And they declare that what they have set

dovrai—their own advantage—is just for the ruled, and the man who departs from it they punish as a breaker of the law and a doer of unjust

339 a deeds. This, best of men, is what I mean: in every city the same thing is just, the advantage of the established ruling body. It surely is master;

so the man who reasons rightly concludes that everywhere justice is the same thing, the advantage of the stronger."

"Now," I said, "I understand what you mean. Whether it is true or not, I'll try to find out. Now, you too answer that the just is the ad- vantageous, Thrasymachus—although you forbade me to give that answer. Of course, 'for the stronger' is added on to it."

b "A small addition, perhaps," he said. "It isn't plain yet whether it's a big one. But it is plain that we

must consider whether what you say is true. That must be considered, because, while I too agree that the just is something of advantage, you add to it and assert that it's the advantage of the stronger, and I don't know whether it's so."

"Go ahead and consider," he said. "That's what I'm going to do," I said. "Now, tell me; don't you

say though that it's also just to obey the rulers?"

"I do."

c "Are the rulers in their several cities infallible, or are they such as

to make mistakes too?" "By all means," he said, "they certainly are such as to make

mistakes too."

"When they put their hands to setting down laws, do they set some down correctly and some incorrectly?"

"I suppose so."

[ 16 ]

Book I I 338d-340b socrates/thrasymachus/polemakchus/cleitophon

"Is that law correct which sets down what is advantageous for 339 c themselves, and that one incorrect which sets down what is disad- vantageous?—Or, how do you mean it?"

"As you say."

"But whatever the rulers set down must be done by those who are ruled, and this is the just?"

"Of course."

"Then, according to your argument, it's just to do not only what is d

advantageous for the stronger but also the opposite, what is disad-

vantageous."

"What do you mean?" he said. "What you mean, it seems to me. Let's consider it better. Wasn't

it agreed that the rulers, when they command the niled to do some- thing, sometimes completely mistake what is best for themselves, while it is just for the ruled to do whatever the rulers command? Weren't these things agreed upon?"

"I suppose so," he said.

"Well, then," I said, "also suppose that you're agreed that it is just e

to do what is disadvantageous for those who are the rulers and the stronger, when the rulers unwillingly command what is bad for them- selves, and you assert it is just to do what they have commanded. In this case, most wise Thrasymachus, doesn't it necessarily follow that it

is just for the others to do the opposite of what you say? For the weaker are commanded to do what is doubtless disadvantageous for the stronger."

"Yes, by Zeus, Socrates," said Polemarchus, "most clearly." 340 a

"If it's you who are to witness for him, Polemarchus," said Cleito- phon interrupting.

"What need is there of a witness?" he said. "Thrasymachus him- self agrees that the rulers sometimes command what is bad for them- selves and that it is just for the others to do these things."

"That's because Thrasymachus set down that to do what the rulers bid is just, Polemarchus."

"And because, Cleitophon, he also set down that the advantage of the stronger is just. Once he had set both of these principles down, he b further agreed that sometimes the stronger order those who are weaker and are ruled to do what is to the disadvantage of the stronger. On the basis of these agreements, the advantage of the stronger would be no

more just than the disadvantage." "But," said Cleitophon, "he said that the advantage of the

stronger is what the stronger believes to be his advantage. This is what

[ 17 ]

cleitophon/polemarchus/socrates/thrasymachus t (^ THE REPUBLIC

MO b must be done by the weaker, and th • the

just." ^^ ^^ what he set down ^s

"That's not what was said," said PqI c "It doesn't make any difference, p'^^''*^hus.

Thra- symachus says it that way now, let's a

° ^'^^rchus," I said, >* ^

Thrasymachus, was this what you w^m f^* '* from him. Now tel '

to the stronger to be the advantage of u*^

^^^ *^® J"^* '^' '^^^* *^^ad- vantageous or not? Shall we assert that th^

stronger, whether i* *f "Not in the least," he said. "Do y ^^

^^ *he way you mean i*- , ^

makes mistakes 'stronger' at the rnn ^ ^^PP^se that I call a man

"^

takes?" ""^"t when he is making

^>''

"I did suppose you to mean this " t j that the rulers are not infallible but also m^V ^^^o, "when you agr^e^^

d "That's because you're a sycopJi^ .^^^*^kes in some things- ^

said. "To take an obvious example i ^" arguments, Socrates,

mistakes about the sick a doctor becau ^^^ ^^^^ ^ ^^^ ^^^ k- ing? Or a man who makes mistakes

jr, ^^ ^^T mistake he

is

at the moment he is making a mistake • *^^'^tion a skilled calcu a >

I suppose rather that this is just ouj-' ^ ^^ry sense of his m>^ made a mistake, the calculator made ^"^r of speaking

—^the o But I suppose that each of these men

^ "^'^t^^e, and the &^^^^f^^ss e him as, never makes mistakes. Hence' • ^ '^ ^s he is what we

a<J

speak precisely, none of the craftsmen P'^^^ise speech, since y^

makes mistakes makes them on accon f

^ ^^ mistakes. The man

is in that respect no craftsman. So n failure in knowledge

makes mistakes at the moment when k '^^i' wise man, or

would say that the doctor made a ^ '^ """ling, although eveO'

^ mistake. What I answered you earlier fU^

^ ^"^ *he ruler ma

way. But what follows is the most pj-g . ^"' you must also take m

34J a is a ruler, does not make mistakes; anrl^

Way: the ruler, insofar

down what is best for himself. And thi "^* making mistakes, he

is ruled. So I say the just is exactiy ^i "^Ust be done by the man

beginning, to do the advantage of the st "ave been saying from

"All right, Thrasymachus," I sai,^ .^^^^•'

,

^ sycophant?" • ' ^o in your opinion I P^^^

"You most certainly do, " he said. "Do you suppose I ask as I aske^ k do

harm^s to you in the argument?" because I am plotting ^^

"I don't suppose," he said, "I know jf You b won't get away with doing harm unn .^

^ ^^t it won't profit yon-

unnoticed, you won't be able to overpQ^^^ ^^^" and, failing to g^*

"Nor would I even try, you blesserl ^ ^^ ^^ *^® argument,

same sort of thing doesn't happen tr. '^^n," 1 said. "But, so tha

"" ^s again ^.v. u .l.«r whether^gain, make it clear

[ 18 ]

Booh I / 340b-342a socrates/thbasymachus

you meant by the ruler and stronger the man who is such only in com- 341 b mon parlance or the man who is such in precise speech, whose ad- vantage you said a moment ago it will be just for the weaker to serve because he is stronger?"

"The one who is the ruler in the most precise sense," he said. "Do harm to that and play the sycophant, if you can—I ask for no

favors—but you won't be able to." "Do you suppose me to be so mad," I said, "as to try to shave a <

lion and play the sycophant with Thrasymachus?"

"At least you tried just now," he said, "although you were a

nonentity at that too."

"Enough of this," I said. "Now tell me, is the doctor in the precise sense, of whom you recently spoke, a money-maker or one who cares for the sick? Speak about the man who is really a doctor."

"One who cares for the sick," he said. "And what about the pilot? Is the man who is a pilot in the cor-

rect sense a ruler of sailors or a sailor?"

"A ruler of sailors."

"I suppose it needn't be taken into account that he sails in the i ship, and he shouldn't be called a sailor for that. For it isn't because of sailing that he is called a pilot but because of his art and his rule over sailors."

"True," he said.

"Is there something advantageous for each of them?"

"Certainly."

"And isn't the art," I said, "naturally directed toward seeking and providing for the advantage of each?"

"Yes, that is what it is directed toward."

"And is there then any advantage for each of the arts other than to be as perfect as possible?"

"How do you mean this question?" "Just as," I said, "if you should ask me whether it's enough for a

body to be a body or whether it needs something else, I would say: 'By all means, it needs something else. And the art of medicine has now been discovered because a body is defective,^^ and it won't do for it to be like that. The art was devised for the purpose of providing what is advantageous for a body.' Would I seem to you to speak correctly in saying that or not?"

"You would," he said.

"And what about medicine itself, is it or any other art defective, 342 and does it need some supplementary virtue? Just as eyes need sight and ears hearing and for this reason an art is needed that will consider and provide what is advantageous for them, is it also the case that there

[ 19 ]

socrates/thrasymachus the republic

342 a is some defect in the art itself and does each art have need of another art that considers its advantage, and does the art that considers it need

in its turn another of the same kind, and so on endlessly? Or does each b consider its own advantage by itself ? Or does it need neither itself nor

another to consider what is advantageous for its defect? Is it that there

is no defect or error present in any art, and that it isn't fitting for an art to seek the advantage of anything else than that of which it is the art,

and that it is itself without blemish or taint because it is correct so long as it is precisely and wholly what it is? And consider this in that precise sense. Is it so or otherwise?"

"That's the way it looks," he said. c "Then," I said, "medicine doesn't consider the advantage of

medicine, but of the body."

"Yes," he said.

"Nor does horsemanship consider the advantage of horsemanship,

but of horses. Nor does any other art consider its own advantage—^for it doesn't have any further need to—but the advantage of that of which

it is the art."

"It looks that way," he said.

"But, Thrasymachus, the arts rule and are masters of that of which they are arts."

He conceded this too, but with a great deal of resistance. "Then, there is no kind of knowledge that considers or commands

the advantage of the stronger, but rather of what is weaker and ruled by

d it."

He finally agreed to this, too, although he tried to put up a fight about it. When he had agreed, I said:

"Then, isn't it the case that the doctor, insofar as he is a doctor,

considers or commands not the doctor's advantage, but that of the sick man? For the doctor in the precise sense was agreed to be a ruler of bodies and not a money-maker. Wasn't it so agreed?"

He assented. "And was the pilot in the precise sense agreed to be a ruler of

sailors and not a sailor?" e "It was agreed."

"Then such a pilot and ruler will consider or command the benefit not of the pilot, but of the man who is a sailor and is ruled."

He assented with resistance. "Therefore, Thrasymachus," I said, "there isn't ever anyone who

holds any position of rule, insofar as he is ruler, who considers or commands his own advantage rather than that of what is ruled and of which he himself is the craftsman; and it is looking to this and what is

[ 20 ]

Book 1 1 342a-344a socrates/thrasymachu!

advantageous and fitting for it that he says everything he says and does 342

everything he does."

When we came to this point in the argument and it was evident to 343 i everyone that the argument about the just had turned around in the op-

posite direction, Thrasymachus, instead of answering, said, "Tell me,

Socrates, do you have a wet nurse?"

"Why this?" I said. "Shouldn't you answer instead of asking such things?"

"Because," he said, "you know she neglects your sniveling nose and doesn't give it the wiping you need, since it's her fault you do not

even recognize sheep or shepherd."

"Because of what, in particular?" I said.

"Because you suppose shepherds or cowherds consider the good

of the sheep or the cows and fatten them and take care of them looking

to something other than their masters' good and their own; and so you

also believe that the rulers in the cities, those who truly rule, think about the ruled differently from the way a man would regard sheep, and that night and day they consider anything else than how they will benefit themselves. And you are so far off about the just and justice, and the unjust and injustice, that you are unaware that justice and the

just are really someone else's good, the advantage of the man who is stronger and rules, and a personal harm to the man who obeys and serves. Injustice is the opposite, and it rules the truly simple and just;

and those who are ruled do what is advantageous for him who is stronger, and they make him whom they serve happy but themselves not at all. And this must be considered, most simple Socrates: the just man everywhere has less than the unjust man. First, in contracts, when the just man is a partner of the unjust man, you will always find that at the dissolution of the partnership the just man does not have more than the unjust man, but less. Second, in matters pertaining to the city,

when there are taxes, the just man pays more on the basis of equal proper- ty, the unjust man less; and when there are distributions, the one makes no profit, the other much. And, further, when each holds some ruling

office, even if the just man suffers no other penalty, it is his lot to see his domestic affairs deteriorate from neglect, while he gets no ad-

vantage from the public store, thanks to his being just; in addition to

this, he incurs the ill vidll of his relatives and his acquaintances when he is unwilling to serve them against what is just. The unjust man's sit-

uation is the opposite in all of these respects. I am speaking of the man I just now spoke of, the one who is able to get the better^"^ in a big 34< way. Consider him, if you want to judge how much more to his private advantage the unjust is than the just. You will learn most easily of all if

[ 21 ]

rHRASYMACHUS/SOCRATES THEREPUBLIC

344 a you turn to the most perfect injustice, which makes the one who does injustice most happy, and those who suffer it and who would not be willing to do injustice, most wretched. And that is tyranny, which by stealth and force takes away what belongs to others, both what is sacred and profane, private and public, not bit by bit, but all at once. When

b someone does some part of this injustice and doesn't get away with it, he is punished and endures the greatest reproaches—temple robbers, kidnappers, housebreakers,^^ defrauders, and thieves are what they call those partially unjust men who do such evil deeds. But when some- one, in addition to the money of the citizens, kidnaps and enslaves them too, instead of these shameful names, he gets called happy and

c blessed, not only by the citizens but also by whomever else hears that he has done injustice entire. For it is not because they fear doing unjust

deeds, but because they fear suffering them, that those who blame in- justice do so. So, Socrates, injustice, when it comes into being on a sufficient scale, is mightier, freer, and more masterful than justice; and, as I have said from the beginning, the just is the advantage of the

stronger, and the unjust is what is profitable and advantageous for

oneself."

d When Thrasymachus had said this, he had it in mind to go away, just like a bathman,^'' after having poured a great shower of speech

into our ears all at once. But those present didn't let him and forced him to stay put and present an argument for what had been said. And I, too, on my own begged him and said

:

"Thrasymachus, you demonic man, do you toss in such an ar- gument, and have it in mind to go away before teaching us adequately or finding out whether it is so or not? Or do you suppose you are

e trying to determine a small matter and not a course of life on the basis of which each of us would have the most profitable ex- istence?"

"What? Do I suppose it is (Otherwise?" said Thrasyihachus. "You seemed to," I said, "or else you have no care for us and

aren't a bit concerned whether we shall live worse or better as a result of our ignorance of what you say you know. But, my good man, make

'45 a an effort to show it to us—it wouldn't be a bad investment for you to do a good deed for so many as we are. I must tell you that for my part I am not persuaded; nor do I think injustice is more profitable than justice, not even if one gives it free rein and doesn't hinder it from doing what it wants. But, my good man, let there be an unjust man, and let him be able to do injustice, either by stealth or by fighting out in the open; nevertheless, he does not persuade me that this is more profitable

b than justice. And perhaps, someone else among us—and not only

[ 22 ]

Book I / 344a-346b socrates/thrasymachus

I—also has this sentiment. So persuade us adequately, you blessed 345 b man, that we don't deliberate correctly in having a higher regard for justice than injustice."

"And how," he said, "shall I persuade you? If you're not per- suaded by what I've just now said, what more shall I do for you? Shall I take the argument and give your soul a forced feeding?"^*)

"By Zeus, don't you do it," I said. "But, first, stick to what you

said, or if you change what you set down, make it clear that you're doing so, and don't deceive us. As it is, Thrasymachus, you see

that—still considering what went before—after you had first defined c the true doctor, you later thought it no longer necessary to keep a pre-

cise guard over the true shepherd. Rather you think that he, insofar as

he is a shepherd, fattens the sheep, not looking to what is best for the

sheep, but, like a guest who is going to be feasted, to good cheer, or in d turn, to the sale, like a money-maker and not a shepherd. The shepherd's art surely cares for nothing but providing the best for what

it has been set over. For that the art's own affairs be in the best possible way is surely adequately provided for so long as it lacks nothing of being the shepherd's art. And, similarly, I for my part thought just now that it is necessary for us to agree that every kind of rule, insofar as it is

rule, considers what is best for nothing other than for what is ruled and cared for, both in political and private rule. Do you think that e the rulers in the cities, those who truly rule, rule willingly?"

"By Zeus, I don't think it," he said. "I know it well." "But, Thrasymachus," I said, "what about the other kinds of rule?

Don't you notice that no one wishes to rule voluntarily, but they de-

mand wages as though the benefit from ruling were not for them but for those who are ruled? Now tell me this much: don't we, at all events, al- 346 a ways say that each of the arts is different on the basis of having a dif-

ferent capacity? And don't answer contrary to your opinion, you blessed man, so that we can reach a conclusion."

"Yes," he said, "this is the way they differ." "And does each of them provide us with some peculiar^J benefit

and not a common one, as the medical art furnishes us with health, the pilot's art with safety in sailing, and so forth with the others?"

"Certainly."

"And does the wage-earner's art furnish wages? For this is its b

power. Or do you call the medical art the same as the pilot's art? Or, if you wish to make precise distinctions according to the principle you set down, even if a man who is a pilot becomes healthy because sailing on the sea is advantageous to him, nonetheless you don't for that reason

call what he does the medical art?"

"Surely not," he said.

[ 23 ]

socrates/thrasymachus/glaucon the republic

346 b "Nor do you, I suppose, call the wage-earner's art the medical art, even if a man who is earning wages should be healthy?"

"Surely not," he said.

"And, what about this? Do you call the medical art the wage- earner's art, even if a man practicing medicine should earn wages?"

c He said that he did not. "And we did agree that the benefit of each art is peculiar?" "Let it be," he said.

"Then whatever benefit all the craftsmen derive in common is plainly derived from their additional use of some one common thing that is the same for all."

"It seems so," he said.

"And we say that the benefit the craftsmen derive from receiving wages comes to them from their use of the wage-earner's art in addi-

tion."

He assented with resistance. d "Then this benefit, getting wages, is for each not a result of his

ov^Ti art; but, if it must be considered precisely, the medical art pro-

duces health, and the wage-earner's art wages; the housebuilder s art

produces a house and the wage-earner's art, following upon it,

wages; and so it is with all the others; each accomplishes its own work and benefits that which it has been set over. And if pay were not attached to it, would the craftsman derive benefit from the art?"

e "It doesn't look like it," he said-

"Does he then produce no benefit when he works for nothing?" "I suppose he does."

"Therefore, Thrasymachus, it is plain by now that no art or kind of rule provides for its own benefit, but, as we have been saying all along, it provides for and commands the one who is ruled, considering his advantage—that of the weaker—and not that of the stronger. It is for just this reason, my dear Thrasymachus, that 1 said a moment ago that no one willingly chooses to rule and get mixed up in straightening out other people's troubles; but he asks for wages, because the man

347 a who is to do anything fine by art never does what is best for himself nor does he command it, insofar as he is commanding by art, but rather what is best for the man who is ruled. It is for just this reason, as it seems, that there must be wages for those who are going to be willing to rule—either money, or honor, or a penalty if he should not rule."

"What do you mean by that, Socrates?" said Glaucon. "The first two kinds of wages I know, but I don't understand what penalty you mean and how you can say it is a kind of wage."

[ 24 ]

Book I / 346b-348a socrates/glaucoi

"Then you don't understand the wages of the best men," I said, 347

1

"on account of which the most decent men rule, when they are wilHng to rule. Or don't you know that love of honor and love of money are said to be, and are, reproaches?"

"I do indeed," he said. "For this reason, therefore," I said, "the good aren't willing to

rule for the sake of money or honor. For they don't wish openly to ex- act wages for ruling and get called hirelings, nor on their own secretly to take a profit from their ruling and get called thieves. Nor, again, will

they rule for the sake of honor. For they are not lovers of honor.

Hence, necessity and a penalty must be there in addition for them, if

they are going to be willing to rule—it is likely that this is the source of

its being held to be shameful to seek to rule and not to await

necessity—and the greatest of penalties is being ruled by a worse man if one is not willing to rule oneself. It is because they fear this, in my view, that decent men rule, when they do rule; and at that time they proceed to enter on rule, not as though they were going to something

good, or as though they were going to be well off in it; but they enter on

it as a necessity and because they have no one better than or like them-

selves to whom to turn it over. For it is likely that if a city of good men came to be, there would be a fight over not ruling, just as there is now over ruling; and there it would become manifest that a true ruler really does not naturally consider his own advantage but rather that ofthe one who is ruled. Thus everyone who knows would choose to be benefited by another rather than to take the trouble of benefiting another. So I can in no way agree with Thrasymachus that the just is the advantage of the stronger. But this we shall consider again at another time. What Thrasymachus now says is in my own opinion a far bigger thing—he asserts that the life of the unjust man is stronger^^ than that of the just man. Which do you choose, Glaucon," I said, "and which speech is truer in your opinion?"

"I for my part choose the life of the just man as more profitable." "Did you hear," I said, "how many good things Thrasymachus

listed a moment ago as belonging to the life of the unjust man?" 348 "I heard," he said, "but I'm not persuaded."

"Then do you want us to persuade him, if we're able to find a way,

that what he says isn't true?"

"How could I not want it?" he said. "Now," I said, "if we should speak at length against him, setting

speech against speech, telling how many good things belong to being just, and then he should speak in return, and we again, there'll be need

[ 25 ]

socrates/glaucon/thrasymachus the republic

34a b of counting the good things and measuring how many each of us has in each speech, and then we'll be in need of some sort of judges^^ who will decide. But if we consider just as we did a moment ago, coming to agreement with one another, we'll ourselves be both judges and

pleaders at once."

"Most certainly," he said.

"Which way do you like?" I said. "The latter," he said.

"Come now, Thrasymachus," I said, "answer us from the begin- ning. Do you assert that perfect injustice is more profitable than justice when it is perfect?"

c "1 most certainly do assert it," he said, "and I've said why."

"Well, then, how do you speak about them in this respect? Surely you call one of them virtue and the other vice?"

"Of course."

"Then do you call justice virtue and injustice vice?"

"That's likely, you agreeable man," he said, "when I also say that injustice is profitable and justice isn't."

"What then?" "The opposite," he said.

"Is justice then vice?"

"No, but very high-minded innocence."

d "Do you call injustice corruption?"44

"No, rather good counsel."

"Are the unjust in your opinion good as well as prudent, Thra-

symachus?"

"Yes, those who can do injustice perfectly," he said, "and are able to subjugate cities and tribes of men to themselves. You, perhaps, sup- pose I am speaking of cutpurses. Now, such things, too, are profitable," he said, "when one gets away with them; but they aren't worth men- tioning compared to those I was just talking about."

e "As to that," I said, "I'm not unaware of what you want to say. But I wondered about what went before, that you put injustice in the

camp of virtue and wisdom, and justice among their opposites?" "But I do indeed set them do\vn as such."

"That's already something more solid, my comrade," I said, "and it's no longer easy to know what one should say. For if you had set in- justice-down as profitable but had nevertheless agreed that it is

viciousness or shameful, as do some others, we would have something to say, speaking according to customary usage. But as it is, plainly

you'll say that injustice is fair and mighty, and, since you also dared to

set it down in the camp of virtue and wisdom, you'll set down to its ac-

[ 26 ]

Book 1 1 348b-349d socrates/thrasymachus

count all the other things which we used to set down as belonging to the 349 a just."

"Your divination is very true," he said.

"But nonetheless," I said, "one oughtn't to hesitate to pursue the

consideration of the argument as long as I understand you to say what

you think. For, Thrasymachus, you seem really not to be joking now,

but to be speaking the truth as it seems to you."

"And what difference does it make to you," he said, "whether it seems so to me or not, and why don't you refute the argument?

"

"No difference," I said. "But try to answer this in addition to the b other things: in your opinion would the just man be willing to get the better of the just man in anything?"

"Not at all," he said. "Otherwise he wouldn't be the urbane inno-

cent he actually is."

"And what about this: would he be willing to get the better of the just

action?"

"Not even of the Just action, " he said.

"And does he claim he deserves to get the better of the unjust

man, and believe it to be just, or would he not believe it to be so?"

"He'd believe it to be just," he said, "and he'd claim he deserves

to get the better, but he wouldn't be able to."

"That," I said, "is not what I am asking, but whether the just man wants, and claims he deserves, to get the better of the unjust and not of c

the just man?"

"He does," he said. "And what about the unjust man? Does he claim he deserves to

get the better of the just man and the just action?" "How could it be otherwise, " he said, "since he claims he

deserves to get the better of everyone?"

"Then will the unjust man also get the better of the unjust hu- man being and action, and will he struggle to take most of all for himself?"

"That's it."

"Let us say it, then, as follows," I said, "the just man does not get the better of what is like but of what is unhke, while the unjust man gets the better of like and unlike?

"

d "what you said is very good, " he said.

"And," I said, "is the unjust man both prudent and good, while the just man is neither?"

"That's good too," he said.

"Then," I said, "is the unjust man also like the prudent and the good, while the just man is not like them?

"

[ 27]

THBASYMACHUS/SOCKATES THE REPUBLIC

349 d "How " he said, "could he not be Hke such men, since he is such as they, while the other is not like them."

"Fine. Then is each of them such as those to whom he is like?" "What else could they be?" he said,

e "All right, Thrasymachus. Do you say that one man is musical and that another is unmusical?"

"I do."

"Which is prudent and which thoughtless?"

"Surely the musical man is prudent and the unmusical man thoughtless."

"Then, in the things in which he is prudent, is he also good, and in

those in which he is thoughtless, bad?"

"Yes."

350 a "And what about a medical man? Is it not the same with him?" "It is the same."

"Then, you best of men, is any musical man who is tuning a lyre in your opinion willing to get the better of another musical man in tightening and relaxing the strings, or does he claim he deserves more?"

"Not in my opinion." "But the better of the unmusical man?"

"Necessarily," he said.

"And what about a medical man? On questions of food and drink,

would he want to get the better of a medical man or a medical ac- tion?"

"Surely not."

"But the better of what is not medical?"

Yes.

"Now, for every kind of knowledge and lack of knowledge, see if in your opinion any man at all who knows chooses voluntarily to say or do more than another man who knows, and not the same as the man who is like himself in the same action."

b "Perhaps," he said, "it is necessarily so."

"And what about the ignorant man? Would he not get the better of both the man who knows and the man who does not?"

"Perhaps."

"The man who knows is wise?" "I say so."

"And the wise man is good?" I say so.

"Then the man who is both good and wise will not want to get the better of the like, but of the unlike and opposite?"

[ 28 ]

Boo/c I / 349d-351a thrasymachus

"It seems so," he said. 350 b

"But the bad and unlearned will want to get the better of both the

like and the opposite?"

"It looks like it."

"Then, Thrasymachus," I said, "does our unjust man get the bet-

ter of both like and unlike? Weren't you saying that?"

"I was," he said.

"And the just man will not get the better of like but of unlike?" c "Yes."

"Then," I said, "the just man is like the wise and good, but the

unjust man like the bad and unlearned." "I'm afraid so."

"But we were also agreed that each is such as the one he is like."

"We were." "Then the just man has revealed himself to us as good and wise,

and the unjust man unlearned and bad." Now, Thrasymachus did not agree to all of this so easily as I tell it

now, but he dragged his feet and resisted, and he produced a wonderful c

quantity of sweat, for it was summer. And then I saw what I had not yet seen before

— ^Thrasymachus blushing. At all events, when we had

come to complete agreement about justice being virtue and wisdom, and injustice both vice and lack of learning, I said, "All right, let that

be settled for us; but we did say that injustice is mighty as well. Or don't you remember, Thrasymachus?"

"I remember," he said. "But even what you're saying now doesn't satisfy me, and I have something to say about it. But if I should speak,

I know well that you would say that I am making a public harangue. So e then, either let me say as much as I want; or, if you want to keep on questioning, go ahead and question, and, just as with old wives who tell tales, I shall say to you, 'All right,' and I shall nod and shake my head."

"Not, in any case, contrary to your own opinion," I said. "To satisfy you," he said, "since you won't let me speak. What

else do you want?"

"Nothing, by Zeus," I said, "but if that's what you are going to do, go ahead and do it. And I'll ask questions."

"Then ask."

"I ask what I asked a moment ago so that we can in an orderly fashion make a thorough consideration of the argument about the 351 ,

character of justice as compared to injustice. Surely it was said that in-

justice is more powerful and mightier than justice. But now," I said.

[ 29 ]

socrates/thbasymachus the republic

351 a "if justice is indeed both wisdom and virtue, I believe it will easily come to light that it is also mightier than injustice, since injustice is lack of learning—no one could still be ignorant of that. But, Thrasy-

machus, I do not desire it to be so simply considered, but in this

h way: would you say that a city is unjust that tries to enslave other cities unjustly, and has reduced them to slavery, and keeps many enslaved to itself?"

"Of course," he said. "And it's this the best city will most do, the one that is most perfectly unjust."

"I understand," I said, "that this argument was yours, but I am considering this aspect of it: will the city that becomes stronger than another have this power without justice, or is it necessary for it to have this power with justice?"

c "If," he said, "it's as you said a moment ago, that justice is wisdom—^with justice. But if it's as I said—with injustice."

"I am full of wonder, Thrasymachus," I said, "because you not only nod and shake your head, but also give very fine answers."

"It's because I am gratifying you," he said. "It's good of you to do so. But gratify me this much more and tell

me: do you believe that either a city, or an army, or pirates, or robbers,

or any other tribe which has some common unjust enterprise would be able to accomplish anything, if its members acted unjustly to one another?"

d "Surely not," he said.

"And what if they didn't act unjustly? Wouldn't they be more able to accomplish something?"

"Certainly," he said.

"For surely, Thrasymachus, it's injustice that produces factions,

hatreds, and quarrels among themselves, and justice that produces unanimity and friendship. Isn't it so?"

"Let it be so, so as not to differ with you."

"And it's good of you to do so, you best of men. Now tell me this: if it's the work of injustice, wherever it is, to implant hatred, then,

when injustice comes into being, both among free men and slaves, will it not also cause them to hate one another and to form factions, and to

e be unable to accomplish anything in common with one another?" "Certainly."

"And what about when injustice comes into being between two? Will they not differ and hate and be enemies to each other and to just

men?" "They will," he said.

"And if, then, injustice should come into being within one man.

[ 30 ]

Book I / 351a-352d socrates/thrasymachus

you surprising fellow, will it lose its power or will it remain undimin- ished?"

"Let it remain undiminished," he said.

"Then does it come to light as possessing a power such that, wherever it comes into being, be it in a city, a clan, an army, or

whatever else, it first of all makes that thing unable to accomplish any- thing together with itself due to faction and difference, and then it 352 a

makes that thing an enemy both to itself and to everything opposite and to the just? Isn't it so?"

"Certainly."

"And then when it is in one man, I suppose it will do the same thing which it naturally accomplishes. First it will make him unable to act, because he is at faction and is not of one mind with himself, and, second, an enemy both to himself and to just men, won't it?"

"Yes."

"And the gods, too, my friend, are just?" "Let it be," he said. b

"Then the unjust man will also be an enemy to the gods, Thra- symachus, and the just man a friend."

"Feast yourself boldly on the argument," he said, "for I won't op-

pose you, so as not to irritate these men here." "Come, then," I said, "fill out the rest of the banquet for me by

answering just as you have been doing. I understand that the just come to light as wiser and better and more able to accomplish something, while the unjust can't accomplish anything with one another—for we don't speak the complete truth about those men who we say vigorously c accomplished some common object with one another although they were unjust; they could never have restrained themselves with one

another if they were completely unjust, but it is plain that there was a certain justice in them which caused them at least not to do injustice to

one another at the same time that they were seeking to do it to others;

and as a result of this they accomplished what they accomplished, and

they pursued unjust deeds when they were only half bad from injustice, since the wholly bad and perfectly unjust are also perfectly unable to

accomplish anything—I say that I understand that these things are so d

and not as you set them down at first. But whether the just also live bet- ter than the unjust and are happier, which is what we afterwards pro- posed for consideration, must be considered. And now, in my opinion, they do also look as though they are, on the basis of what we have said. Nevertheless, this must still be considered better: for the argument is

not about just any question, but about the way one should live." "Well, go ahead and consider," he said.

[ 31 ]

socbates/thrasymachus the republic

352 d "I shall," I said. "Tell me, in your opinion is there some work that belongs to a horse?"

e "Yes."

"Would you take the work of a horse or of anything else what- soever to be that which one can do only with it, or best with it?"

"I don't understand," he said.

"Look at it this way: is there anything with which you could see

other than eyes?"

"Surely not."

"And what about this? Could you hear with anything other than ears?"

"By no means."

"Then wouldn't we justly assert that this is the work of each?" "Certainly."

353 a "And what about this: you could cut a slip from a vine with a dag- ger or a leather-cutter or many other things?"

"Of course."

"But I suppose you could not do as fine a job with anything other

than a pruning knife made for this purpose." Irue.

"Then shall we take this to be its work?" "We shall indeed." "Now I suppose you can understand better what I was asking a

moment ago when I wanted to know whether the work of each thing is what it alone can do, or can do more finely than other things."

"Yes, I do understand," he said, "and this is, in my opinion, the b work of each thing."

"All right," I said, "does there seem to you also to be a virtue for

each thing to which some work is assigned? Let's return again to the same examples. We say that eyes have some work?"

"They do." "Is there then a virtue of eyes, too?"

"A virtue, too." "And what about ears? Wasn't it agreed that they have some

work?"

"Yes."

"And do they have a virtue, too?"

"Yes, they do."

"And what about all other things? Aren't they the same?"

They are. "Stop for a moment. Could eyes ever do a fine job of their work if

[ 32 ]

Book I / 352d-354a socrates/thrasymachus

they did not have their proper virtue but, instead of the virtue, 353 c vice?"

"How could they?" he said. "For you probably mean blindness instead of sight."

"Whatever their virtue may be," I said. "For I'm not yet asking that, but M'hether their work, the things to be done by them, will be done well with their proper virtue, and badly with vice."

"What you say is true," he said. "Will ears, too, do their work badly when deprived of their vir-

tue?"

"Certainly." d

"Then, shall we include everything else in the same argument?" "In my opinion, at least." "Come, let's consider this now: is there some work of a soul that

you couldn't ever accomplish with any other thing that is? For exam-

ple, managing, ruling, and deliberating, and all such things—could we justly attribute them to anything other than a soul and assert that they

are peculiar to it?"

"To nothing else."

"And, further, what about living? Shall we not say that it is the work of a soul?"

"Most of all," he said.

"Then, do we say that there is also some virtue of a soul?" "We do." "Then, Thrasymachus, will a soul ever accomplish its work well if e

deprived of its virtue, or is that impossible?"

"Impossible."

"Then a bad soul necessarily rules and manages badly while a

good one does all these things well."

"Necessarily."

"Didn't we agree that justice is virtue of soul, and injustice, vice?"

"We did so agree." "Then the just soul and the just man will have a good life, and the

unjust man a bad one." "It looks like it," he said, "according to your argument."

"And the man who lives well is blessed and happy, and the man 354 a who does not is the opposite."

"Of course."

"Then the just man is happy and the unjust man wretched." "Let it be so," he said.

[ 33 ]

socrates/thbasymachus the republic

354 a "But it is not profitable to be wretched; rather it is profitable to be happy."

"Of course "

"Then, my blessed Thrasymachus, injustice is never more profitable than justice."

"Let that," he said, "be the fill of your banquet at the festival of Bendis,45 Socrates."

"I owe it to you, Thrasymachus," I said, "since you have grown gentle and have left off being hard on me. However, I have not had a

h fine banquet, but it's my own fault, not yours. For in my opinion, I am just like the gluttons who grab at whatever is set before them to get a taste of it, before they have in proper measure enjoyed what went before. Before finding out what we were considering at first—what the just is—I let go of that and pursued the consideration of whether it is vice and lack of learning, or wisdom and virtue. And later, when in its turn an argument that injustice is more profitable than justice fell in my way, I could not restrain myself from leaving the other one and going

after this one, so that now as a result of the discussion I know nothing. c So long as I do not know what the just is, I shall hardly know whether it

is a virtue or not and whether the one who has it is unhappy or happy."

[ 34]

BOOK II

Now, when I had said this, I thought I was freed from argument. 357 a But after all, as it seems, it was only a prelude. For Glaucon is always

most courageous in everything, and so now he didn't accept Thra- symachus' giving up but said, "Socrates, do you want to seem to have

persuaded us, or truly to persuade us, that it is in every way better to be b just than unjust?"

"I would choose to persuade you truly," I said, "if it were up to

me."

"Well, then," he said, "you're not doing what you want. Tell me,

is there in your opinion a kind of good that we would choose to have not because we desire its consequences, but because we delight in it for its own sake—such as enjoyment and all the pleasures which are harmless and leave no after effects Other than the enjoyment in

having them?"

"In my opinion, at least," I said, 'there is a good of this kind." "And what about this? Is there a kind we like both for its own c

sake and for what comes out of it, such as thinking and seeing and

being healthy? Surely we delight in such things on both accounts." "Yes, " I said.

"And do you see a third form^ of good, which includes gymnastic

exercise, medical treatment when sick as well as the practice of medicine, and the rest of the activities from which money is made? We

[ 35 ]

glaucon/socrates Irllli ixllirUBLIC

357 c would say that they are drudgery but beneficial to us; and we would not

d choose to have them for themselves but for the sake of the wages and

whatever else comes out of them."

"Yes, there is also this third " I said, "but what of it?"

"In which of them," he said, "would you include justice?"

358 a "I, for my part, suppose," I said, "that it belongs in the finest kind, which the man who is going to be blessed should like both for itself and for what comes out of it."

"Well, that's not the opinion of the many," he said, "rather it

seems to belong to the form of drudgery, which should be practiced for

the sake of wages and the reputation that comes from opinion;^ but all

by itself it should be fled from as something hard."

"I know this is the popular opinion," I said, "and a while ago justice, taken as being such, was blamed by Thrasymachus while in- justice was praised. But I, as it seems, am a poor learner."

b "Come, now," he said, "hear me too, and see if you still have the same opinion. For it looks to me as though Thrasymachus, like a snake, has been charmed more quickly than he should have been; yet to my way of thinking there was still no proof about either. For I desire to hear what each is and what power it has all alone by itself when it is in the soul—dismissing its wages and its consequences. So I shall do it

c this way, if you too consent: I'll restore Thrasymachus' argument, and

first I'll tell what kind of thing they say justice is and where it came from; second, that all those who practice it do so unwillingly, as necessary but not good; third, that it is fitting that they do so, for the

life of the unjust man is, after all, far better than that of the just man, as they say. For, Socrates, though that's not at all my own opinion, I am at a loss: I've been talked deaf by Thrasymachus and countless others, while the argument on behalf of justice—that it is better than in-

d justice—I've yet to hear from anyone as I want it. I want to hear it ex- tolled all by itself, and I suppose I would be most likely to learn that

from you. That's the reason why I'll speak in vehement praise of the unjust life, and in speaking I'll point out to you how I want to hear you, in your turn, blame injustice and praise justice. See if what I'm saying is what you want."

"Most of all," I said. "What would an intelligent man enjoy talk- ing and hearing about more again and again?"

e "What you say is quite fine," he said. "Now listen to what I said I was going to tell first—what justice is and where it came from.

"They say that doing injustice is naturally good, and suffering in-

justice bad, but that the bad in suffering injustice far exceeds the good in doing it; so that, when they do injustice to one another and suffer it

[ 36 ]

Book II / 357c-360a glaucon

and taste of both, it seems profitable—to those who are not able to 358 e escape the one and choose the other—to set down a compact among 359 a themselves neither to do injustice nor to suffer it. And from there they began to set down their own laws and compacts and to name what the law commands lawful and just. And this, then, is the genesis and being of justice; it is a mean between what is best—doing injustice without paying the penalty—and what is worst—suffering injustice without being able to avenge oneself. The just is in the middle between these two, cared for not because it is good but because it is honored due to a want of vigor in doing injustice. The man who is able to do it and is b truly a man would never set down a compact with anyone not to do in- justice and not to suffer it. He'd be mad. Now the nature of justice is this and of this sort, and it naturally grows out of these sorts of things.

So the argument goes.

"That even those who practice it do so unwillingly, from an in- capacity to do injustice, we would best perceive if we should in thought do something like this: give each, the just man and the unjust, license to c do whatever he wants, while we follow and watch where his desire will lead each. We would catch the just man red-handed going the same way as the unjust man out of a desire to get the better; this is what any nature naturally pursues as good, while it is law^ which by force per-

verts it to honor equality. The license of which I speak would best be realized if they should come into possession of the sort of power that it is said the ancestor of Gyges,* the Lydian, once got. They say he was a d

shepherd toiling in the service of the man who was then ruling Lydia. There came to pass a great thunderstorm and an earthquake; the earth

cracked and a chasm opened at the place where he was pasturing. He saw it, wondered at it, and went down. He saw, along with other quite wonderful things about which they tell tales, a hollow bronze

horse. It had windows; peeping in, he saw there was a corpse inside that looked larger than human size. It had nothing on except a gold ring on its hand; he slipped it off and went out. When there was the usual e gathering of the shepherds to make the monthly report to the king about the flocks, he too came, wearing the ring. Now, while he was sit- ting with the others, he chanced to turn the collet of the ring to himself,

toward the inside of his hand; when he did this, he became invisible to those sitting by him, and they discussed him as though he were away. 360 a

He wondered at this, and, fingering the ring again, he twisted the collet toward the outside; when he had twisted it, he became visible. Think- ing this over, he tested whether the ring had this power, and that was exactly his result: when he turned the collet inward, he became invisi- ble, when outward, visible. Aware of this, he immediately contrived to

[ 37]

GLAucoN THE REPUBLIC

360 a be one of the messengers to the king. When he arrived, he committed b adultery with the king's wife and, along with her, set upon the king and

killed him. And so he took over the rule. "Now if there were two such rings, and the just man would put

one on, and the unjust man the other, no one, as it would seem, would be so adamant as to stick by justice and bring himself to keep away from what belongs to others and not lay hold of it, although he had li- cense to take what he wanted from the market without fear, and to go

into houses and have intercourse with whomever he wanted, and to ^ slay orrelease from bonds whomever he wanted, and to do other things

as an equal to a god among humans. And in so doing, one would act no differently from the other, but both would go the same way. And yet, someone could say that this is a great proof that no one is willingly just but only when compelled to be so. Men do not take it to be a good for them in private, since wherever each supposes he can do injustice, he does it. Indeed, all men suppose injustice is far more to their private

d profit than justice. And what they suppose is true, as the man who makes this kind of an argument will say, since if a man were to get hold of such license and-were never willing to do any injustice and didn't lay

his hands on what belongs to others, he would seem most wretched to those who were aware of it, and most foolish too, although they would praise him to each others' faces, deceiving each other for fear of suffer- ing injustice. So much for that.

e "As to the judgment itself about the life of these two of whom we are speaking, we'll be able to make it correctly if we set the most just man and the most unjust in opposition; if we do not, we won't be able to do so. What, then, is this opposition? It is as follows: we shall take away nothing from the injustice of the unjust man nor from the justice of the just man, but we shall take each as perfect in his own pursuit. So, first, let the unjust man act like the clever craftsmen. An outstanding pilot or doctor is aware of the difference between what is impossible in

361 a his art and what is possible, and he attempts the one, and lets the other

go; and if, after all, he should still trip up in any way, he is competent to set himself aright. Similarly, let the unjust man also attempt unjust deeds correctly, and get away with them, if he is going to be extremely unjust. The man who is caught must be considered a poor chap. For the extreme of injustice is to seem to be just when one is not. So the per- fectly unjust man must be given the most perfect injustice, and nothing must be taken away; he must be allowed to do the greatest injustices

while having provided himself with the greatest reputation for justice.

h And if, after all, he should trip up in anything, he has the power to set himself aright; if any of his unjust deeds should come to light, he is

[ 38 ]

w Book 11 / 360a-362c glaucon/socbates

capable both of speaking persuasively and of using force, to the extent 361 I that force is needed, since he is courageous and strong and since he has provided for friends and money. Now, let us set him down as such, and put beside him in the argument the just man in his turn, a man simple and noble, who, according to Aeschylus,^ does not wish to seem, but

rather to be, good. The seeming must be taken away. For if he should seem just, there would be honors and gifts for him for seeming to be c such. Then it wouldn't be plain whether he is such for the sake of the just or for the sake of the gifts and honors. So he must be stripped of everything except justice, and his situation must be made the opposite of the first man's. Doing no injustice, let him have the greatest reputa-

tion for injustice, so that his justice may be put to the test to see if it is softened by bad reputation and its consequences. Let him go un- changed till death, seeming throughout life to be unjust although he is d

just, so that when each has come to the extreme—^the one ofjustice, the other of injustice—^they can be judged as to which of the two is hap- pier."

"My, my," I said, "my dear Glaucon, how vigorously you polish up each of the two men—just like a statue—^for their judgment."

"As much as I can," he said. "With two such men it's no longer hard, I suppose, to complete the speech by a description of the kind of life that awaits each. It must be told, then. And if it's somewhat ( rustically told, don't suppose that it is I who speak, Socrates, but rather those who praise injustice ahead ofjustice. They'll say that the just man who has such a disposition will be whipped; he'll be racked; he'll be bound; he'll have both his eyes burned out; and, at the end, when he 362 c has undergone every sort of evil, he'll be crucified and know that one shouldn't wish to be, but to seem to be, just. After all, Aeschylus' say-

ing applies far more correctly to the unjust man. For really, they will say, it is the unjust man, because he pursues a thing dependent on truth

and does not live in the light of opinion, who does not wish to seem un- just but to be unjust.

Reaping a deep furrow in his mind From which trusty plans bear fruit.

^

h

First, he'-rules in the city because he seems to be just. Then he takes in

marriage from whatever station he wants and gives in marriage to

whomever he wants; he contracts and has partnerships with whomever

he wants, and, besides benefiting himself in all this, he gains because he

has no qualms about doing injustice. So then, when he enters contests, both private and public, he wins and gets the better of his enemies. In

getting the better, he is wealthy and does good to friends and harm to c

[ 39 ]

glaucon/adeimantus/socrates the republic

362 c enemies. To the gods he makes sacrifices and sets up votive offerings, adequate and magnificent, and cares for the gods and those human beings he wants to care for far better than the just man. So, in all

hkehhood, it is also more appropriate for him to be dearer to the gods than is the just man. Thus, they say, Socrates, with gods and with hu-

mans, a better life is provided for the unjust man than for the just man."

d When Glaucon had said this, I had it in mind to say something to it, but his brother Adeimantus said in his turn, "You surely don't

believe, Socrates, that the argument has been adequately stated?"

"Why not?" I said. "What most needed to be said has not been said," he said. "Then," I said, "as the saying goes, 'let a man stand by his

brother."' So, you too, if he leaves out anything, come to his defense. And yet, what he said was already enough to bring me to my knees and make it impossible to help out justice."

e And he said, "Nonsense. But still hear this too. We must also go through the arguments opposed to those of which he spoke, those that

praise justice and blame injustice, so that what Glaucon in my opinion wants will be clearer. No doubt, fathers say to their sons and exhort

363 a them, as do all those who have care of anyone, that one must be just. However, they don't praise justice by itself but the good reputations that come from it; they exhort their charges to be just so that, as a result of the opinion, ruling offices and marriages will come to the one who seems to be just, and all the other things that Glaucon a moment ago attributed to the just man as a result of his having a good reputa- tion. And these men tell even more of the things resulting from the opinions. For by throwing in good reputation with the gods, they can tell of an inexhaustible store of goods that they say gods give to the

holy. And in this way they join both the noble Hesiod and Homer. The former says that for the just the gods make the oaks

b Bear acorns on high, and bees in the middle.

And the fleecy sheep heavily laden with wool^

and many other very good things connected with these. And the other has pretty much the same to tell, as when he says.

As for some blameless king who in fear of the gods c Upholds justice, the black earth bears

Barley and wheat, the trees are laden with fruit.

The sheep bring forth without fail, and the sea provides fish.^

And Musaeus and his son give the just even headier goods than these from the gods. In their speech they lead them into Hades and lay them

[ 40 ]

Book 11 / 362c-364e adeimantus

down on couches; crowning them, they prepare a symposium of the 363 c holy, and they then make them go through the rest of time drunk, in the behef that the finest wage of virtue is an eternal drunk.^" Others ex- d tend the wages from the gods yet further than these. For they say that a holy and oath-keeping man leaves his children's children and a whole tribe behind him. So in these and like ways they extol justice. And, in turn, they bury the unholy and unjust in mud in Hades and compel them to carry water in a sieve; and they bring them into bad reputation while they are still alive. Thus, those penalties that Glaucon described e as the lot of the just men who are reputed to be unjust, these people say are the lot of the unjust. But they have nothing else to say. This

then is the praise and blame attached to each.

"Furthermore, Socrates, consider still another form of speeches

about justice and injustice, spoken in prose^^ and by poets. With one tongue they all chant that moderation and justice are fair, but hard and 364 a

full of drudgery, while intemperance and injustice are sweet and easy to

acquire, and shameful only by opinion and law. They say that the un- just is for the most part more profitable than the just; and both in public and in private, they are ready and willing to call happy and to

honor bad men who have wealth or some other power and to dishonor and overlook those who happen in some way to be weak or poor, al- though they agree they are better than the others. But the most won- b

derful of all these speeches are those they give about gods and virtue.

They say that the gods, after all, allot misfortune and a bad life to many good men too, and an opposite fate to opposite men. Beggar priests and diviners go to the doors of the rich man and persuade him that the gods have provided them with a power based on sacrifices and incantations. If he himself, or his ancestors, has committed some injustice, they can c

heal it with pleasures and feasts; and if he wishes to ruin some enemies at small expense, he will injure just and unjust alike with certain evoca-

tions and spells. They, as they say, persuade the gods to serve them.

And they bring the poets forward as witnesses to all these arguments about vice, and they present it as easy, saying that.

Vice in abundance is easy to choose, d The road is smooth and it lies very near. While the gods have set sweat before virtue,

And it is a long road, rough and steep. '^

And they use Homer as a witness to the perversion of the gods by hu- man beings because he too said:

The very gods can be moved by prayer too. ^

With sacrifices and gentle vows and

[ 41 ]

ADEIMANTUS THE REPUBLIC

304 e The odor of burnt and drink offerings, human beings turn them aside with their prayers.

When someone has transgressed and made a mistake.^^

And they present a babble of books by Musaeus and Orpheus, off- spring of the Moon and the Muses, as they say, according to whose prescriptions they busy tliemselves about their sacrifices. They per- suade not only private persons, but cities as well, that through sacrifices

and pleasurable games there are, after all, deliverances and purifica-

365 a tions from unjust deeds for those still living. And there are also rites for those who are dead. These, which they call initiations,^'* deliver us from the evils in the other place; while, for those who did not sacrifice, terrible things are waiting.

"My dear Socrates," he said, "with all these things being said—of this sort and in this quantity—about virtue and vice and how human beings and gods honor them, what do we suppose they do to the souls of the young men who hear them? I mean those who have good natures and have the capacity, as it were, to fly to all the things that are said

and gather from them what sort of man one should be and what way b one must follow to go through life best. In all likelihood he would say

to himself, after Pindar, will I 'with justice or with crooked deceits

scale the higher wall' where I can fortify myself all around and live out

my life? For the things said indicate that there is no advantage in my being just, if I don't also seem to be, while the labors and penalties in-

volved are evident. But if I'm unjust, but have provided myself with a

reputation for justice, a divine life is promised. Therefore, since as the

c wise make plain to me, 'the seeming overpowers even the truth'^^ and is the master of happiness, one must surely turn wholly to it. As facade

and exterior I must draw a shadow painting^® of virtue all around me, while behind it I must trail the wily and subtle fox of the most wise Ar-

chilochus.^'' 'But,' says someone, 'it's not always easy to do bad and get

d away with it unnoticed.' 'Nothing great is easy,' we'll say. 'But at all events, if we are going to be happy we must go where the tracks of the arguments lead. For, as to getting away with it, we'll organize secret so- cieties and clubs; and there are teachers of persuasion who offer the wisdom of the public assembly and the court. On this basis, in some things we'll persuade and in others use force; thus we'll get the better

and not pay the penalty.' 'But it surely isn't possible to get away from the gods or overpower them.' 'But, if there are no gods, or if they have

no care for human things, why should we care at all about getting e away? And if there are gods and they care, we know of them or have

heard of them from nowhere else than the laws^^ and the poets who have given genealogies; and these are the very sources of our being told that they are such as to be persuaded and perverted by sacrifices, sooth-

[ 42 I

Book 11 / 364e-367a adeimantus

ing vows, and votive offerings. Either both things must be believed or '^^^ ^

neither. If they are to be beheved, injustice must be done and sacrifice offered from the unjust acquisitions. For if we are just, we won't be "^^^ ^

punished by the gods. That is all. And we'll refuse the gains of in- justice. But if we are unjust, we shall gain and get off unpunished as well, by persuading the gods with prayers when we transgress and make mistakes.' 'But in Hades we'll pay the penalty for our injustices here, either we ourselves or our children's children.' 'But, my dear,' will say the man who calculates, 'the initiations and the delivering gods have great power, as say the greatest cities and those children of gods who ^

have become poets and spokesmen of the gods and reveal that this is the case.'

"Then, by what further argument could we choose justice before the greatest injustice? For, if we possess it with a counterfeited seemly exterior, we'll fare as we are minded with gods and human beings both while we are living and when we are dead, so goes the speech of both the many and the eminent. After all that has been said, by what device, Socrates, will a man who has some power—of soul, money, body or c family—be made willing to honor justice and not laugh when he hears it praised? So, consequently, if someone can show that what we have said is false and if he has adequate knowledge that justice is best, he undoubtedly has great sympathy for the unjust and is not angry with

them; he knows that except for someone who from a divine nature can- not stand doing injustice or who has gained knowledge and keeps away from injustice, no one else is willingly just; but because of a lack of d

courage, or old age, or some other weakness, men blame injustice be- cause they are unable to do it. And that this is so is plain. For the first man of this kind to come to power is the first to do injustice to the best of his ability. And there is no other cause of all this than that which gave rise to this whole argument of his and mine with you, Socrates.

We said, 'You surprising man, of all you who clairn to be praisers of e justice—beginning with the heroes^^ at the beginning (those who have left speeches) up to the human beings of the present—there is not one who has ever blamed injustice or praised justice other than for the reputations, honors, and gifts that come from them. But as to what each itself does with its own power when it is in the soul of a man who possesses it and is not noticed by gods and men, no one has ever, in poetry or prose, adequately developed the argument that the one is the

greatest of evils a soul can have in it, and justice the greatest good. For if all of you had spoken in this way from the beginning and persuaded 367 a us, from youth onwards, we would not keep guard over each other for fear injustice be done, but each would be his own best guard, afraid that in doing injustice he would dwell with the greatest evil.'

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ADEIMANTUS/SOCRATES THEKEPUBLlC

367 a "This, Socrates, and perhaps yet more than this, would Thrasyma-

chus and possibly someone else say about justice and injustice, vulgarly

turning their powers upside down, in my opinion at least. But I—for I b need hide nothing from you—out of my desire to hear the opposite

from you, speak as vehemently as I can. Now, don't only show us by the argument that justice is stronger^^ than injustice, but show what

each in itself does to the man who has it that makes the one bad and the other good. And take away the reputations, as Glaucon told you to. For if you don't take the true reputation from each and attach the false one

to it, we'll say that you aren't praising the just but the seeming, nor

c blaming being unjust but the seeming; and that you're exhorting one to be unjust and to get away with it; and that you agree with Thrasyma- chus that the just is someone else's good, the advantage of the stronger,

while the unjust is one's own advantage and profitable, but disadvan- tageous to the weaker. Now, since you agreed that justice is among the greatest goods—those that are worth having for what coines from them but much more for themselves, such as seeing, hearing, thinking, and,

d of course, being healthy and all the other goods that are fruitful by their

own nature and not by opinion—upraise this aspect of justice. Of what profit is justice in itself to the man who possesses it, and what harm does injustice do? Leave wages and reputations to others to praise. I could

endure other men's praising justice and blaming injustice in this way,

extolling and abusing them in tenns of reputations and wages; but from

you I couldn't, unless you were to order me to, because you have spent e your whole life considering nothing other than this. So, don't only show

us by the argument that justice is stronger than injustice, but show what each in itself does to the man who has it—whether it is noticed by gods and human beings or not—that makes the one good and the other bad."

I listened, and although I had always been full of wonder at the nature of Glaucon and Adeimantus, at this time I was particularly

368 a delighted and said, "That wasn't a bad beginning, you children of that man,2i that Glaucon's lover made to his poem about your distinguish- ing yourselves in the battle at Megara:

Sons of Ariston,^^ divine offspring of a fiimous man.

That, my friends, in my opinion is good. For something quite divine must certainly have happened to you, if- you are remaining unper- suaded that injustice is better than justice when you are able to speak

b that way on its behalf. Now you truly don't seem to me to be being per- suaded. I infer it from the rest of your character, since, on the basis of the arguments themselves, I would distrust you. And the more I trust you, the more I'm at a loss as to what I should do. On the one hand, I

[ 44 ]

Book II / 367a-369b socrates/adeimantu

can't help out. For in my opinion I'm not capable of it; my proof is that 368 i when I thought I showed in what I said to Thrasymachus that justice is better than injustice, you didn't accept it from me. On the other hand, I can't not help out. For I'm afraid it might be impious to be here when justice is being spoken badly of and give up and not bring help while I c am still breathing and able to make a sound. So the best thing is to suc- cour her as I am able."

Glaucon and the others begged me in every way to help out and not to give up the argument, but rather to seek out what each is and the truth about the benefit of both. So I spoke my opinion.

"It looks to me as though the investigation we are undertaking is no ordinary thing, but one for a man who sees sharply. Since we're not clever men," I said, "in my opinion we should make this kind of d investigation of it: if someone had, for example, ordered men who don't see very sharply to read little letters from afar and then someone

had the thought that the same letters are somewhere else also, but big-

ger and in a bigger place, I suppose it would look like a godsend to be

able to consider the littler ones after having read these first, if, of

course, they do happen to be the same."

"Most certainly," said Adeimantus. "But, Socrates, what do you

notice in the investigation of the just that's like this?" t

"I'll tell you," I said. "There is, we say, justice of one man; and there is, surely, justice of a whole city too?"

"Certainly," he said.

"Is a city bigger^^ than one man?" "Yes, it is bigger;" he said.

"So then, perhaps there would be more justice in the bigger and it would be easier to observe closely. If you want, first we'll investigate

what justice is like in the cities. Then, we'll also go on to consider it in 369 a individuals, considering the likeness of the bigger in the ideaP-'^ of the

littler?"

"What you say seems fine to me," he said. "If we should watch a city coming into being in speech," I said,

"would we also see its justice coming into being, and its injustice?" "Probably," he said.

"When this has been done, can we hope to see what we're looking for more easily?" h

"Far more easily." "Is it resolved^s that we must try to carry this out? I suppose it's

no small job, so consider it."

"It's been considered," said Adeimantus. "Don't do anything

else."

"Well, then," I said, "a city, as I believe, comes into being be-

[ 45 ]

socrates/adeimantus the republic

369 b cause each of us isn't self-sufficient but is in need of much. Do you believe there's another beginning to the founding of a city?"

"None at all," he said.

c "So, then, when one man takes on another, for one need and another for another need, and, since many things are needed, many men gather in one settlement as partners and helpers, to this common settlement we give the name city, don't we?"

"Most certainly."

"Now, does one man give a share to another, if he does give a share, or take a share, in the belief that it's better for himself?"

"Certainly."

"Come, now," I said, "let's make a city in speech from the begin- ning. Our need, as it seems, will make it.

"

"Of course. "

d "Well, now, the first and greatest of needs is the provision of food

for existing and living. "

"Certainly."

"Second, of course, is housing, and third, clothing, and such."

"That's so."

"Now wait," I said. "How will the city be sufficient to provide for this much? Won't one man be a farmer, another the housebuilder, and still another, a weaver? Or shall we add to it a shoemaker or some other man who cares for what has to do with the body?"

"Certainly."

"The city of utmost necessity^^ would be made of four or five men."

e "It looks like it."

"Now, what about this? Must each one of them put his work at the disposition of all in common—for example, must the farmer, one man, provide food for four and spend four times as much time and labor in the provision of food and then give it in common to the others; or must he neglect them and produce a fourth part of the food in a

370 a fourth part of the time and use the other three parts for the provision of

a house, clothing,^^ and shoes, not taking the trouble to share in com-

mon with others, but minding his own business for himself? '

And Adeimantus said, "Perhaps, Socrates, the latter is easier than the former.

"

"It wouldn't be strange, by Zeus, " I said. "I myself also had the

thought when you spoke that, in the first place, each of us is naturally not quite like anyone else, but rather differs in his nature; different

b men are apt for the accomplishment of difiFerent jobs. Isn't that your opinion?"

"It is."

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Book 11 / 369b-371a socrates/adeimantus

"And, what about this? Who would do a finer job, one man prac- 370 b ticing many arts, or one man one art?"

"One man, one art," he said. "And, further, it's also plain, I suppose, that if a man lets the cru-

cial moment in any work pass, it is completely ruined." "Yes, it is plain."

"I don't suppose the thing done is willing to await the leisure of the man who does it; but it's necessary for the man who does it to follow close upon the thing done, and not as a spare-time occupation." c

"It is necessary."

"So, on this basis each thing becomes more plentiful, finer, and easier, when one man, exempt from other tasks, does one thing accord- ing to nature and at the crucial moment."

"That's entirely certain."

"Now, then, Adeimantus, there's need of more citizens than four for the provisions of which we were speaking. For the farmer, as it seems, won't make his own plow himself, if it's going to be a fine one, or his hoe, or the rest of the tools for farming; and the housebuilder d

won't either—and he needs many too. And it will be the same with the weaver and the shoemaker, won't it?"

True.

"So, carpenters, smiths, and many other craftsmen of this sort be- come partners in our little city, making it into a throng."

"Most certainly."

"But it wouldn't be very big yet, if we added cowherds, shepherds, and the other kinds of herdsmen, so that the farmers would have oxen for plowing, the housebuilders teams to use with the farmers for e

hauling, and the weavers and cobblers hides and wool."

"Nor would it be a little city," he said, "when it has all this." "And, further," I said, "just to found the city itself in the sort of

place where there will be no need of imports is pretty nearly impossi-

ble."

"Yes, it is impossible."

"Then, there will also be a need for still other men who will bring to it what's needed from another city."

"Yes, they will be needed."

"Now, if the agent comes empty-handed, bringing nothing needed

by those from whom they take what they themselves need, he'll go 377 a away empty-handed, won't he?"

"It seems so to me."

"Then they must produce at home not only enough for themselves but also the sort of thing and in the quantity needed by these others of

whom they have need."

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ADEIMANTUS/SOCRATES THE REPUBLIC

371 a "Yes, they must."

"So our city needs more farmers and other craftsmen."

"It does need more."

"And similarly, surely, other agents as well, who will import and export the various products. They are merchants, aren't they?"

Yes.

"Then, we'll need merchants too."

"Certainly."

"And if the commerce is carried on by sea, there will also be need b of throngs of other men who know the business of the sea."

"Throngs, indeed."

"Now what about this? In the city itself, how will they exchange what they have produced with one another? It was for just this that we made a partnership and founded the city."

"Plainly," he said, "by buying and selling."

"Out of this we'll get a market^^ and an established currency^^ as a token for exchange."

"Most certainly."

c "If the farmer or any other craftsman brings what he has pro- duced to the market, and he doesn't arrive at the same time as those who need what he has to exchange, will he sit in the market idle, his craft unattended?"

"Not at all," he said. "There are men who see this situation and set themselves to this service; in rightly governed cities they are usually

those whose bodies are weakest and are useless for doing any other job.

d They must stay there in the market and exchange things for money with those who need to sell something and exchange, for money again, with all those who need to buy something."

"This need, then, produces tradesmen in our city," I said. "Don't

we call tradesmen those men who are set up in the market to serve in buying and selling, and merchants those who wander among the cities?"

"Most certainly."

g "There are, I suppose, still some other sei'vants who, in terms of

their minds, wouldn't be quite up to the level of partnership, but whose

bodies are strong enough for labor. They sell the use of their strength and, because they call their price a wage, they are, I suppose, called

wage earners, aren't they?" "Most certainly."

"So the wage earners too, as it seems, go to fill out the city." "It seems so to me."

"Then has our city already grown to completeness, Adeimantus?"

[ 48 ]

Book II / 37Ia-373a adeimantus/socrates/glaugon

"Perhaps." 371 g "Where in it, then, would justice and injustice be? Along with

which of the things we considered did they come into being?" "I can't think, Socrates," he said, "unless it's somewhere in 372 a

some need these men have of one another." "Perhaps what you say is fine," I said. "It really must be con-

sidered and we mustn't back away. First, let's consider what manner of life men so provided for will lead. Won't they make bread, wine, cloth- ing, and shoes? And, when they have built houses, they will work in the summer, for the most part naked and without shoes, and in the winter

adequately clothed and shod. For food they will prepare barley meal h

and wheat flour; they will cook it and knead it. Setting out noble loaves

of barley and wheat on some reeds or clean leaves, they will stretch out

on rushes strewn with yew and myrtle and feast themselves and their children. Afterwards they will drink wine and, crowned with wreathes,

sing of the gods. So they will have sweet intercourse with one another,

and not produce children beyond their means, keeping an eye out

against poverty or war." c

And Glaucon interrupted, saying: "You seem to make these men have their feast without relishes."

"What you say is true," I said. "I forgot that they'll have relishes, too—it's plain they'll have salt, olives, cheese; and they will boil onions and greens, just as one gets them in the country. And to be sure, we'll set desserts before them—figs, pulse and beans; and they'll roast myrtle- berries and acorns before the fire and drink in measure along with it. d And so they will live out their lives in peace with health, as is likely, and at last, dying as old men, they will hand down other similar lives to their offspring."

And he said, "If you were providing for a city of sows, Socrates, on what else would you fatten them than this?"

"Well, how should it be, Glaucon?" I said. "As is conventional," he said. "I suppose men who aren't going to

be wretched recline on couches^*' and eat from tables and have rel- ishes and desserts just like men have nowadays." g

"All right," I said. "I understand. We are, as it seems, considering not only how a city, but also a luxurious city, comes into being. Perhaps that's not bad either. For in considering such a city too, we could probably see in what way justice and injustice naturally grow in cities. Now, the true^i city is in my opinion the one we just described—

a

healthy city, as it were. But, if you want to, let's look at a feverish city, too. Nothing stands in the way. For these things, as it seems, won't satisfy some, or this way of life, but couches, tables, and other furniture 373 ^^

[ 49]

sochates/glaucon there public

373 a will be added, and, of course, relishes, perfume, incense, courtesans

and cakes—all sorts of all of them. And, in particular, we can't still postulate the mere necessities we were talking about at first—houses, clothes, and shoes; but painting and embroidery must also be set in mo- tion; and gold, ivory, and everything of the sort must be obtained. Isn't that so?"

h "Yes," he said.

"Then the city must be made bigger again. This healthy one isn't adequate any more, but must already be gorged with a bulky mass of things, which are not in cities because of necessity—all the hunters and imitators, many concerned with figures and colors, many with music; and poets and their helpers, rhapsodes, actors, choral dancers, con- tractors, and craftsmen of all sorts of equipment, for feminine adom-

c ment as well as other things. And so we'll need more servants too. Or doesn't it seem there will be need of teachers, wet nurses, governesses,

beauticians, barbers, and, further, relish-makers and cooks? And,

what's more, we're in addition going to need swineherds. This animal wasn't in our earlier city—there was no need—but in this one there will be need of it in addition. And there'll also be need of very many other fatted beasts if someone will eat them, won't there?"

"Of course."

d "Won't we be in much greater need of doctors if we follow this way of life rather than the earlier one?"

"Much greater." "And the land, of course, which was then sufficient for feeding the

men who were then, will now be small although it was sufficient. Or how should we say it?"

"Like that," he said.

"Then must we cut off a piece of our neighbors' land, if we are going to have sufficient for pasture and tillage, and they in turn from

ours, if they let themselves go to the unlimited acquisition of money,

overstepping the boundary of the necessary?"

g "Quite necessarily, Socrates," he said.

"After that won't we go to war as a consequence, Glaucon? Or how will it be?"

"Like that," he said.

"And let's not yet say whether war works evil or good," I said, "but only this much, that we have in its turn found the origin of war—in those things whose presence in cities most of all produces evils both private and public."

"Most certainly."

"Now, my friend, the city must be still bigger, and not by a small 374 a number but by a whole army, which will go out and do battle with in-

[ 50 ]

Book 11 / 373a-374e socRATEs/GLAuco^

vaders for all the wealth and all the things we were just now talking 374 c about."

"What," he said, "aren't they adequate by themselves?"

"Not if that was a fine agreement you and all we others made when we were fashioning the city," I said. "Surely we were in agree- ment, if you remember, that it's impossible for one man to do a fine job in many arts."

"What you say is true," he said. "Well then," I said, "doesn't the struggle for victory in war seem i

to be a matter for art?"

"Very much so," he said. "Should one really care for the art of shoemaking more than for

the art of war?"

"Not at all."

"But, after all, we prevented the shoemaker from trying at the same time to be a farmer or a weaver or a housebuilder; he had to stay

a shoemaker just so the shoemaker's art would produce fine work for us. And in the same way, to each one of the others we assigned one thing, the one for which his nature fitted him, at which he was to work throughout his life, exempt from the other tasks, not letting the crucial

moments pass, and thus doing a fine job. Isn't it of the greatest impor- tance that what has to do with war be well done? Or is it so easy that a farmer or a shoemaker or a man practicing any other art whatsoever can be at the same time skilled in the art of war, while no one could be-

come an adequate draughts or dice player who didn't practice it frorri childhood on, but only gave it his spare time? Will a man, if he picks

up a shield or any other weapon or tool of war, on that very day be an adequate combatant in a battle of heavy-armed soldiers,^^ or any other

kind of battle in war, even though no other tool if picked up will make anyone a craftsman or contestant, nor will it eyen be of use to the man who has not gained knowledge of it or undergone adequate train- mg?

"In that case," he said, "the tools would be worth a lot."

"Then," I said, "to the extent that the work of the guardians is

more important, it would require more leisure time than the other tasks

as well as greater art and diligence."

"I certainly think so," he said.

"And also a nature fit for the pursuit?"

"Of course."

"Then it's our job, as it seems, to choose, if we're able, which are

the natures, and what kind they are, fit for guarding the city."

"Indeed it is our job."

"By Zeus," I said, "it's no mean thing we've taken upon our-

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374 e selves. But nevertheless, we mustn't be cowardly, at least as far as it's in our power."

375 a "No," he said, "we mustn't." "Do you suppose," I said, "that for guarding there is any dif-

ference between the nature of a noble puppy and that of a well-bom young man?"

"What do you mean?" "Well, surely both of them need sharp senses, speed to catch what

they perceive, and, finally, strength if they have to fight it out with what they have caught."

"Yes, indeed," he said, "both need all these things."

"To say nothing of courage, if they are to fight well."

"Of course."

"Then, will horse or dog—or any other animal whatsoever—be willing to be courageous if it's not spirited? Haven't you noticed how

b irresistible and unbeatable spirit^^ is, so that its presence makes every soul fearless and invincible in the face of everything?"

"Yes, I have noticed it."

"As for the body's characteristics, it's plain how the guardian must be."

"Yes."

"And as for the soul's—that he must be spirited." "That too."

"Glaucon," I said, "with such natures, how will they not be savage to one another and the rest of the citizens?"

"By Zeus," he said, "it won't be easy."

c "Yet, they must be gentle to their own and cruel to enemies. If not, they'll not wait for others to destroy them, but they'll do it them-

selves beforehand."

"True," he said.

"What will we do?" I said. "Where will we find a disposition at the same time gentle and great-spirited? Surely a gentle nature is op-

posed to a spirited one.

"

"It looks like it."

"Yet, if a man lacks either of them, he can't become a good guardian. But these conditions resemble impossibilities, and so it fol-

d lows that a good guardian is impossible."

"I'm afraid so," he said.

I too was at a loss, and, looking back over what had gone before, I

said, "It is just, my friend, that we're at a loss. For we've abandoned the image we proposed."

"How do you mean?" "We didn't notice that there are, after all, natures such as we

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Book JI / 374e-376c socorates/glaucon

thought impossible, possessing these opposites." 375 d "Where, then?"

"One could see it in other animals too, especially, however, in the

one we compared to the guardian. You know, of course, that by nature e the disposition of noble dogs is to be as gentle as can be with their

familiars and people they know and the opposite with those they don't know."

"I do know that." "Then," I said, "it is possible, after all; and what we're seeking for

in the guardian isn't against nature."

"It doesn't seem so."

"In your opinion, then, does the man who will be a fit guardian need, in addition to spiritedness, also to be a philosopher in his

nature?"**

"How's that?" he said. "I don't understand." 376 a "This, too, you'll observe in dogs," I said, "and it's a thing in the

beast worthy of our wonder."

"What?"

"When it sees someone it doesn't know, it's angry, although it never had any bad experience with him. And when it sees someone it knows, it greets him warmly, even if it never had a good experience with him. Didn't you ever wonder about this before?"

"No, I haven't paid very much attention to it up to now. But it's plain that it really does this."

"Well, this does look like an attractive affection of its nature and truly philosophic." b

"In what way?"

"In that it distinguishes friendly from hostile looks by nothing other than by having learned the one and being ignorant of the other," I said. "And so, how can it be anything other than a lover of learning since it defines what's its own and what's alien by knowledge and ignorance?"

"It surely couldn't be anything but," he said.

"Well," I said, "but aren't love of learning and love of wisdom the same?"

"Yes, the same," he said.

"So shall we be bold and assert that a human being too, if he is going to be gentle to his own and those known to him, must by nature c be a philosopher and a lover of learning?"

"Yes," he said, "let's assert it."

"Then the man who's going to be a fine and good^s guardian of the city for us will in his nature be philosophic, spirited, swift, and strong."

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glaucon/sochates/adeimantus the republic

376 c "That's entirely certain," he said.

"Then he would be of this sort to begin with. But how, exactly, will they be reared and educated by us? And does our considering this contribute anything to our goal of discerning that for the sake of which

d we are considering all these things—^in what way justice and injustice come into being in a city? We don't want to scant the argument, but we don't want an overlong one either."

And Glaucon's brother said, "I most certainly expect that this present consideration will contribute to that goal."

"By Zevis," I said, "then, my dear Adeimantus, it mustn't be given up even if it turns out to be quite long."

"No, it mustn't."

"Come, then, like men telling tales in a tale and at their leisure, let's educate the men in speech."

e "We must." "What is the education? Isn't it difficult to find a better one than

that discovered over a great expanse of time? It is, of course, gymnastic

for bodies and music^^ for the soul."

"Yes, it is."

"Won't we begin educating in music before gymnastic?" "Of course."

"You include speeches in music, don't you?" I said.

"I do."

"Do speeches have a double form, the one true, the other false?" "Yes."

377 a "Must they be edvicated in both, but first in the false?"

"I don't understand how you mean that," he said. "Don't you understand," I said, "that first we tell tales to chil-

dren? And surely they are, as a whole, false, though there are true things in them too. We make use of tales with children before exer- cises."

"That's so."

"That's what I meant by saying music must be taken up before gymnastic."

"That's right," he said.

"Don't you know that the beginning is the most important part of h every work and that this is especially so with anything young and ten-

der? For at that stage it's most plastic, and each thing assimilates itself to

the model whose stamp anyone wishes to give to it."

"Quite so."

"Then shall we so easily let the children hear just any tales fashioned by just anyone and take into their souls opinions for the most

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Book II 1 376c-378b socrates/adeimantus

part opposite to those we'll suppose they must have when they are 377 b grown up?"

"In no event will we permit it." "First, as it seems, we must supervise the makers of tales; and if

they make-*'^ a fine tale, it must be approved, but if it's not, it must be c rejected. We'll persuade nurses and mothers to tell the approved tales

to their children and to shape their souls with tales more than their

bodies with hands. Most of those they now tell must be thrown out." "Which sort?" he said.

"In the greater tales we'll also see the smaller ones," I said. "For

both the greater and the smaller must be taken from the same model

and have the same power. Don't you suppose so?" d

"I do," he said. "But I don't grasp what you mean by the greater ones."

"The ones Hesiod and Homer told us, and the other poets too. They surely composed false tales for human beings and used to tell them and still do tell them."

"But what sort," he said, "and what do you mean to blame in them?"

"What ought to be blamed first and foremost," I said, "especially

if the lie a man tells isn't a fine one." "What's that?"

"When a man in speech makes a bad representation of what gods e and heroes are like, just as a painter who paints something that doesn't resemble the things whose likeness he wished to paint."

"Yes, it's right to blame such things," he said. "But how do we mean this and what sort of thing is it?"

"First," I said, 'the man who told the biggest lie about the biggest things didn't tell a fine lie—how Uranus did what Hesiod says he did, and how Cronos in his turn took revenge on him.^^ And Cronos' deeds 378 a and his sufferings at the hands of his son,^^ not even if they were true

would I suppose they should so easily be told to thoughtless young

things; best would be to keep quiet, but if there were some necessity to

tell, as few as possible ought to hear them as unspeakable secrets, after

making a sacrifice, not of a pig but of some great offering that's hard to come by, so that it will come to the ears of the smallest possible num- ber."

"These speeches are indeed harsh, " he said.

"And they mustn't be spoken in our city, Adeimantus," I said. b

"Nor must it be said within the hearing of a young person that in doing

the extremes of injustice, or that in punishing the unjust deeds of his

father in every way, he would do nothing to be wondered at, but would

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378 b be doing only what the first and the greatest of the gods did."

"No, by Zeus," he said. "To say this doesn't seem fitting to me either."

"Above all," I said, "it mustn't be said that gods make war on c gods, and plot against them and have battles with them—for it isn't

even true—^provided that those who are going to guard the city for us must consider it most shameful^"* to be easily angry with one another.

They are far from needing to have tales told and embroideries woven^i about battles of giants and the many diverse disputes of gods and hei"oes with their families and kin. But if we are somehow going to per- suade them that no citizen ever was angry with another and that to be so is not holy, it's just such things that must be told the children right

d away by old men and women; and as they get older, the poets must be compelled to make up speeches for them which are close to these. But Hera's bindings by her son,'*^ and Hephaestus' being cast out by his father when he was about to help out his mother who was being beaten,43 ^^^j ^w ^^g battles of the gods Homer^^ made, must not be accepted in the city, whether they are made with a hidden sense or without a hidden sense. A young thing can't judge what is hidden sense and what is not; but what he takes into his opinions at that age has a

e tendency to become hard to eradicate and unchangeable. Perhaps it's for this reason that we must do everything to insure that what they hear first, with respect to virtue, be the finest told tales for them to hear."

"That's reasonable," he said. "But if someone should at this point

ask us what they are and which tales we mean, what would we say?" And I said, "Adeimantus, you and I aren't poets right now but

379 a founders of a city. It's appropriate for founders to know the models ac- cording to which the poets must tell their tales. If what the poets pro-

duce goes counter to these models, founders must not give way;

however, they must not themselves make up tales." "That's correct," he said. "But, that is just it; what would the

models for speech about the gods^^ be."

"Doubtless something like this," I said. "The god must surely al-

ways be described such as he is, whether one presents him in epics,

lyrics, or tragedies."

"Yes, he must be." b "Then, is the god reallv good, and, hence, must he be said to be

so?"

"Of course." "Well, but none of the good things is hannful,,is it?" "Not in my opinion." "Does that which isn't harmful do hann?" "In no way."

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Book 11 / !^8b-380a sockates/adeimantus

"Does that which does not harm do any evil?" 379 b "Not that, either."

"That which does no evil would not be the cause of any evil?" "How could it be?" "What about this? Is the good beneficial?" "Yes."

"Then it's the cause of doing well?"

"Yes."

"Then the good is not the cause of everything; rather it is the

cause of the things that are in a good way, while it is not responsible for

the bad things."

"Yes," he said, "that's entirely so." c

"Then," I said, "the god, since he's good, wouldn't be the cause of

everything, as the many say, but the cause of a few things for human beings and not responsible for most. For the things that are good for us

are far fewer than those that are bad; and of the good things, no one

else must be said to be the cause; of the bad things, some other causes

must be sought and not the god."

"What you say," he said, "is in my opinion very true." "Then," I said, "we mustn't accept Homer's—or any other

poet's—foolishly making this mistake about the gods and saying that d

Two jars stand on Zeus's threshold Full of dooms—the one of good,

the other of wretched;

and the man to whom Zeus gives a mixture of both.

At one time he happens on evil,

at another good;

but the man to whom he doesn't give a mixture, but the second pure.

Evil misery, drives him over the divine

earth;46

nor that Zeus is the dispenser to us e

Of good and evil alike.'*^

And, as to the violation of the oaths and truces that Pandarus com- mitted, if someone says Athena and Zeus were responsible for its hap- pening,'*8 we'll not praise him; nor must the young be allowed to hear that Themis and Zeus were responsible for strife and contention among 380 a the gods,^^ nor again, as Aeschylus says, that

God plants the cause in mortals When he wants to destroy a house utterly.

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380 a And if someone produces a 'Sorrows of Niobe,'^" the work where

these iambics are, or a 'Sorrows of the Pelopidae,' or the 'Trojan Sor-

rows,' or anything else of the sort, either he mustn't be allowed to say that they are the deeds of a god, or, if of a god, he must find a speech

for them pretty much like the one we're now seeking; and he must say b the god's works were just and good, and that these people profited by

being punished. But the poet mustn't be allowed to say that those who pay the penalty are wretched and that the one who did it was a god. If, however, he should say that the bad men were wretched because they needed punishment and that in paying the penalty they were benefited by the god, it must be allowed. As for the assertion that a god, who is good, is the cause of evil to anyone, great exertions must be made against anyone's saying these things in his owti city, if its laws are going

to be well observed, or anyone's hearing them, whether he is younger or c older, whether the tale is told in meter or without meter. For these are

to be taken as sayings that, if said, are neither holy, nor advantageous

for us, nor in harmony with one another."

"I give my vote to you in support of this law," he said, "and it pleases me."^^

"Now, then," I said, "this would be one of the laws and models concerning the gods, according to which those who produce speeches will have to do their speaking and those who produce poems will have to do their making: the god is not the cause of all things, but of the

good."

"And it's very satisfactory," he said. d "Now, what about this second one? Do you suppose the god is a

wizard, able treacherously to reveal himself at different times in dif-

ferent ideas, at one time actually himself changing and passing from his

own form into many shapes, at another time deceiving us and making us think such things about him? Or is he simple and does he least of all things depart from his own idea?"

"On the spur of the moment, I can't say," he said. "What about this? Isn't it necessary that, if something steps out of

e its own idea, it be changed either by itself or something else?" "Yes, it is necessary."

"Are things that are in the best condition least altered and moved by something else—for example, a body by food, drink, and labor, and all plants by the sun's heat, winds, and other affections of the sort;

381 a aren't the healthiest and strongest least altered?"

"Of course."

"And a soul that is most courageous and most prudent, wouldn't an externa] affection least trouble and alter it?"

Yes.

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"And, again, the same argiunent surely also holds for all com- 381 a posites, implements, houses, and clothing; those that are well made and in good condition are least altered by time and the other affections."

"That's so." j

"Hence everything that's in fine condition, whether by nature or b art or both, admits least transformation by anything else."

"It seems so."

"Now, the god and what belongs to the god are in every way in the best condition."

"Of course."

"So, in this way, the god would least of all have many shapes." "Least of all, surely."

"But would he be the one to transform and alter himself?" "It's plain," he said, "if he's altered at all."

"Does he transform himself into what's better and fairer, or what's

worse and uglier than himself?"

"Necessarily into what's worse," he said, "if he's altered at all. c

For surely we won't say that the god is wanting in beauty or virtue." "What you say is very right," I said. "And, if this is so, in your

opinion, Adeimantus, does anyone, either god or human being, willingly make himself worse in any way at all?"

"It's impossible," he said.

"Then it's impossible," I said, "for a god to want to alter himself,

but since, as it seems, each of them is as fair and as good as possible, he

remains forever simply in his o-wn shape."

"That's entirely necessary, in my opinion at least," he said. "Then, you best of men," I said, "let none of the poets tell us d

that

The gods, like wandering strangers. Take on every sort of shape and visit

the cities^^

and let none tell lies about Proteus and Thetis^^ or bring on an altered Hera, either in tragedies or the other kinds of poetry, as a priestess

Making a collection for the life-giving children

of Inachus, Argos' river^*

and let them not lie to us in many other such ways. Nor should the e mothers, in their turn, be convinced by these things and frighten the

children with tales badly told—that certain gods go around nights look-

ing like all sorts of strangers—lest they slander the gods while at the

same time making the children more cowardly."

"No, they shouldn't," he said.

"But," I said, "while the gods themselves can't be transformed, do

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381 e they make us think they appear in all sorts of ways, deceiving and bewitching us?"

"Perhaps," he said.

382 a "What?" I said. "Would a god want to lie, either in speech or deed by presenting an illusion?"

"I don't know," he said.

"Don't you know," I said, "that all gods and human beings hate the true lie, if that expression can be used?"

"What do you mean?" he said. "That surely no one," I said, "voluntarily wishes to lie about the

most sovereign things to what is most sovereign in himself. Rather, he fears holding a lie there more than anything."

"I still don't understand," he said. b "That's because you suppose I mean something exalted," I said.

"But I mean that to lie and to have lied to the soul about the things that are, and to be unlearned, and to have and to hold a lie there is what

everyone would least accept; and that everyone hates a lie in that place

most of all."

"Quite so," he said.

"Now what I was just talking about would most correctly be called truly a lie—the ignorance in the soul of the man who has been lied to. For the lie in speeches is a kind of imitation of the affection in

the soul, a phantom of it that comes into being after it, and not quite an c unadulterated lie. Isn't that so?"

"Most certainly."

"So the real lie is hated not only by gods, but also by human beings."

"Yes, in my opinion." "Now, what about the one in speeches? When and for whom is it

also useful, so as not to deserve hatred? Isn't it useful against enemies,

and, as a preventive, like a drug, for so-called friends when from madness or some folly they attempt to do something bad? And, in the

d telling of the tales we were just now speaking about—those told be- cause we don't know where the truth about ancient things lies—liken- ing the lie to the truth as best we can, don't we also make it useful?"

"It is very useful in such cases,' he said.

"Then in which of these cases is a lie useful to the god? Would he lie in making likenesses because he doesn't know ancient things?"

"That," he said, "would be ridiculous."

"Then there is no lying poet in a god?"

"Not in my opinion." "Would he lie because he's frightened of enemies?"

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"Far from it." 382 e

"Because of the folly or madness of his intimates?"

"None of the foolish or the mad is a friend of the gods," he said. "Then, there's nothing for the sake of which a god would lie?"

"There is nothing."

"Then the demonic^ and the divine are wholly free from lie." "That's cxjmpletely certain," he said.

"Then the god is altogether simple and true in deed and speech,

and he doesn't himself change or deceive others by illusions, speeches,

or the sending of signs either in waking or dreaming. "

"That's how it looks to me too when you say it," he said. "Do you then agree," I said, "that this is the second model ac- 383 a

cording to which speeches and poems about gods must be made; they

are neither wizards who transform themselves, nor do they mislead us by lies in speech or in deed?"

"I do agree."

"So, although we praise much in Homer, we'll not praise Zeus' sending the dream to Agamemnon,^ nor Thetis' saying in Aeschylus that Apollo sang at her wedding, foretelling good things for her off-

spring, b

Free from sickness and living long lives.

Telling all that the friendship of the gods

would do for my fortunes. He sang the paean, gladdening my spirit. And I expected Phoebus' divine mouth To be free of lie, full with the diviner's art.

And he, he who sang, who was at this feast, who said this, he is the one who slew my son.

When someone says such things about gods, we'll be harsh and not pro- c vide a chorus;^''' and we'll not let the teachers use them for the educa-

tion of the young, if our guardians are going to be god-revering and

divine insofar as a human being can possibly be." "I am in complete agreement with these models," he said, "and

would use them as laws."

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