(SOCRATES, GLAUCON.)
WITH these words I was thinking that I had
made an end of the discussion; but the end, in truth, proved to be only a beginning. For
Glaucon, who is always the most pugnacious of men, was dissatisfied at Thrasymachus's
retirement; he wanted to have the battle out. So he said to me: Socrates, do you wish
really to persuade us, or only to seem to have persuaded us, that to be just is always
better than to be unjust?
I should wish really to persuade you, I
replied, if I could.
2 Then you certainly have not succeeded. Let
me ask you now: How would you arrange goods--are there not some which we welcome for their
own sakes, and independently of their consequences, as, for example, harmless pleasures
and enjoyments, which delight us at the time, although nothing follows from them?
I agree in thinking that there is such a
class, I replied.
3 Is there not also a second class of goods,
such as knowledge, sight, health, which are desirable not only in themselves, but also for
their results?
Certainly, I said.
4 And would you not recognize a third class,
such as gymnastic, and the care of the sick, and the physician's art; also the various
ways of money-making--these do us good but we regard them as disagreeable; and no one
would choose them for their own sakes, but only for the sake of some reward or result
which flows from them?
There is, I said, this third class also. But
why do you ask?
Because I want to know in which of the three
classes you would place justice?
5 In the highest class, I replied--among
those goods which he who would be happy desires both for their own sake and for the sake
of their results.
6 Then the many are of another mind; they
think that justice is to be reckoned in the troublesome class, among goods which are to be
pursued for the sake of rewards and of reputation, but in themselves are disagreeable and
rather to be avoided.
7 I know, I said, that this is their manner
of thinking, and that this was the thesis which Thrasymachus was maintaining just now,
when he censured justice and praised injustice. But I am too stupid to be convinced by
him.
8 I wish, he said, that you wou hear me as
well as him, and then I shall see whether you and I agree. For Thrasymachus seems to me,
like a snake, to have been charmed by your voice sooner than he ought to have been; but to
my mind the nature of justice and injustice has not yet been made clear. Setting aside
their rewards and results, I want to know what they are in themselves, and how they
inwardly work in the soul. If you please, then, I will revive the argument of
Thrasymachus. And first I will speak of the nature and origin of justice according to the
common view of them. Secondly, I will show that all men who practise justice do so against
their will, of necessity, but not as a good. And thirdly, I will argue that there is
reason in this view, for the life of the unjust is after all better far than the life of
the just--if what they say is true, Socrates, since I myself am not of their opinion. But
still I acknowledge that I am perplexed when I hear the voices of Thrasymachus and myriads
of others dinning in my ears; and, on the other hand, I have never yet heard the
superiority of justice to injustice maintained by anyone in a satisfactory way. I want to
hear justice praised in respect of itself; then I shall be satisfied, and you are the
person from whom I think that I am most likely to hear this; and therefore I will praise
the unjust life to the utmost of my power, and my manner of speaking will indicate the
manner in which I desire to hear you too praising justice and censuring injustice. Will
you say whether you approve of my proposal?
Indeed I do; nor can I imagine any theme
about which a man of sense would oftener wish to converse.
I am delighted, he replied, to hear you say
so, and shall begin by speaking, as I proposed, of the nature and origin of justice.
9 They say that to do injustice is, by
nature, good; to suffer injustice, evil; but that the evil is greater than the good. And
so when men have both done and suffered injustice and have had experience of both, not
being able to avoid the one and obtain the other, they think that they had better agree
among themselves to have neither; hence there arise laws and mutual covenants; and that
which is ordained by law is termed by them lawful and just. This they affirm to be the
origin and nature of justice; it is a mean or compromise, between the best of all, which
is to do injustice and not be punished, and the worst of all, which is to suffer injustice
without the power of retaliation; and justice, being at a middle point between the two, is
tolerated not as a good, but as the lesser evil, and honored by reason of the inability of
men to do injustice. For no man who is worthy to be called a man would ever su¦bmit to such
an agreement if he were able to resist; he would be mad if he did. Such is the received
account, Socrates, of the nature and origin of justice.
10 Now that those who practise justice do so
involuntarily and because they have not the power to be unjust will best appear if we
imagine something of this kind: having given both to the just and the unjust power to do
what they will, let us watch and see whither desire will lead them; then we shall discover
in the very act the just and unjust man to be proceeding along the same road, following
their interest, which all natures deem to be their good, and are only diverted into the
path of justice by the force of law. The liberty which we are supposing may be most
completely given to them in the form of such a power as is said to have been possessed by
Gyges, the ancestor of Croesus the Lydian. According to the tradition, Gyges was a
shepherd in the service of the King of Lydia; there was a great storm, and an earthquake
made an opening in thearth at the place where he was feeding his flock. Amazed at the
sight, he descended into the opening, where, among other marvels, he beheld a hollow
brazen horse, having doors, at which he, stooping and looking in, saw a dead body of
stature, as appeared to him, more than human and having nothing on but a gold ring; this
he took from the finger of the dead and reascended. Now the shepherds met together,
according to custom, that they might send their monthly report about the flocks to the
King; into their assembly he came having the ring on his finger, and as he was sitting
among them he chanced to turn the collet of the ring inside his hand, when instantly he
became invisible to the rest of the company and they began to speak of him as if he were
no longer present. He was astonished at this, and again touching the ring he turned the
collet outward and reappeared; he made several trials of the ring, and always with the
same result--when he turned the collet inward he became invisible, when outward he
reappeared. Whereupon he contrived to be chosen one of the messengers who were sent to the
court; where as soon as he arrived he seduced the Queen, and with her help conspired
against the King and slew him and took the kingdom. Suppose now that there were two such
magic rings, and the just put on one of them and the unjust the other; no man can be
imagined to be of such an iron nature that he would stand fast in justice. No man would
keep his hands off what was not his own when he could safely take what he liked out of the
market, or go into houses and lie with anyone at his pleasure, or kill or release from
prison whom he would, and in all respects be like a god among men. Then the actions of the
just would be as the actions of the unjust; they would both come at last to the same
point. And this we may truly affirm to be a great proof that a man is just, not willingly
or because he thinks that justice is any good to him individually, but of necessity, for
wherever anyone thinks that he can safely be unjust, there he is unjust. For all men
believe in their hearts that injustice is far more profitable to the individual than
justice, and he who argues as I have been supposing, will say that they are right. If you
could imagine anyone obtaining this power of becoming invisible, and never doing any wrong
or touching what was another's, he would be thought by the lookers-on to be a most
wretched idiot, although they would praise him to one another's faces, and keep up
appearances with one another from a fear that they too might suffer injustice. Enough of
this.
11 Now, if we are to form a real judgment of
the life of the just and unjust, we must isolate them; there is no other way; and how is
the isolation to be effected? I answer: Let the unjust man be entirely unjust, `and the
just man entirely just; nothing is to be taken away from either of them, and both are to
be perfectly furnished for the work of their respective lives. First, let the unjust be
like other distinguished masters of craft; like the skilful pilot or physician, who knows
intuitively his own powers and keeps within their limits, and who, if he fails at any
point, is able to recover himself. So let the unjust make his unjust attempts in the right
way, and lie hidden if he means to be great in his injustice (he who is found out is
nobody): for the highest reach of injustice is, to be deemed just when you are not.
Therefore I say that in the perfectly unjust man we must assume the most perfect
injustice; there is to be no deduction, but we must allow him, while doing the most unjust
acts, to have acquired the greatest reputation for justice. If he have taken a false step
he must be able to recover himself; he must be one who can speak with effect, if any of
his deeds come to light, and who can force his way where force is required by his courage
and strength, and mmand of money and friends. And at his side let us place the just man
in his nobleness and simplicity, wishing, as AEschylus says, to be and not to seem good.
There must be no seeming, for if he seem to be just he will be honored and rewarded, and
then we shall not know whether he is just for the sake of justice or for the sake of honor
and rewards; therefore, let him be clothed in justice only, and have no other covering;
and he must be imagined in a state of life the opposite of the former. Let him be the best
of men, and let him be thought the worst; then he will have been put to the proof; and we
shall see whether he will be affected by the fear of infamy and its consequences. And let
him continue thus to the hour of death; being just and seeming to be unjust. When both
have reached the uttermost extreme, the one of justice and the other of injustice, let
judgment be given which of them is the happier of the two.
Heavens! my dear Glaucon, I said, how
energetically you polish them up for the decision, first one and then the other, as if
they were two statues.
12 I do my best, he said. And now that we
know what they are like there is no difficulty in tracing out the sort of life which
awaits either of them. This I will proceed to describe; but as you may think the
description a little too coarse, I ask you to suppose, Socrates, that the words which
follow are not mine. Let me put them into the mouths of the eulogists of injustice: They
will tell you that the just man who is thought unjust will be scourged, racked,
bound--will have his eyes burnt out; and, at last, after suffering every kind of evil, he
will be impaled. Then he will understand that he ought to seem only, and not to be, just;
the words of AEschylus may be more truly spoken of the unjust than of the just. For the
unjust is pursuing a reality; he does not live with a view to appearances--he wants to be
really unjust and not to seem only--
"His mind has a soil deep and fertile,
Out of which spring his prudent counsels."
13 In the first place, he is thought just,
and therefore bears rule in the city; he can marry whom he will, and give in marriage to
whom he will; also he can trade and deal where he likes, and always to his own advantage,
because he has no misgivings about injustice; and at every contest, whether in public or
private, he gets the better of his antagonists, and gains at their expense, and is rich,
and out of his gains he can benefit his friends, and harm his enemies; moreover, he can
offer sacrifices, and dedicate gifts to the gods abundantly and magnificently, and can
honor the gods or any man whom he wants to honor in a far better style than the just, and
therefore he is likely to be dearer than they are to the gods. And thus, Socrates, gods
and men are said to unite in making the life of the unjust better than the life of the
just.
I was going to say something in answer to
Glaucon, when Adeimantus, his brother, interposed: Socrates, he said, you do not suppose
that there is nothing more to be urged?
Why, what else is there? I answered.
The strongest point of all has not been even
mentioned, he replied.
Well, then, according to the proverb,
"Let brother help brother"--if he fails in any part, do you assist him; although
I must confess that Glaucon has already said quite enough to lay me in the dust, and take
from me the power of helping justice.
14 Nonsense, he replied. But let me add
something more: There is another side to Glaucon's argument about the praise and censure
of justice and injustice, which is equally required in order to bring out what I believe
to be his meaning. Parents and tutors are always telling their sons and their wards that
they are to be just; but why? not for the sake of justice, but for the sake of character
and reputation; in the hope of obtaining for him who is reputed just some of those
offices, marriages, and the like which Glaucon has enumerated among the advantages
accruing to the unjust from the reputation of justice. More, however, is made of
appearances by this class of persons than by the others; for they throw in the good
opinion of the gods, and will tell you of a shower of benefits which the heavens, as they
say, rain upon the pious; and this accords with the testimony of the noble Hesiod and
Homer, the first of whom says that the gods make the oaks of the just--
"To bear acorns at their summit, and
bees in the middle; And the sheep are bowed down with the weight of their fleeces,"
and many other blessings of a like kind are
provided for them. And Homer has a very similar strain; for he speaks of one whose fame is
"As the fame of some blameless king
who, like a god, Maintains justice; to whom the black earth brings forth Wheat and barley,
whose trees are bowed with fruit, And his sheep never fail to bear, and the sea gives him
fish."
15 Still grander are the gifts of heaven
which Musaeus and his son vouchsafe to the just; they take them down into the world below,
where they have the saints lying on couches at a feast, everlastingly drunk, crowned with
garlands; their idea seems to be that an immortality of drunkenness is the highest meed of
virtue. Some extend their rewards yet further; the posterity, as they say, of the faithful
and just shall survive to the third and fourth generation. This is the style in which they
praise justice. But about the wicked there is another strain; they bury them in a slough
in Hades, and make them carry water in a sieve; also while they are yet living they bring
them to infamy, and inflict upon them the punishments which Glaucon described as the
portion of the just who are reputed to be unjust; nothing else does their invention
supply. Such is their manner of praising the one and censuring the other.
16 Once more, Socrates, I will ask you to
consider another way of speaking about justice and injustice, which is not confined to the
poets, but is found in prose writers. The universal voice of mankind is always declaring
that justice and virtue are honorable, but grievous and toilsome; and that the pleasures
of vice and injustice are easy of attainment, and are only censured by law and opinion.
They say also that honesty is for the most part less profitable than dishonesty; and they
are quite ready to call wicked men happy, and to honor them both in public and private
when they are rich or in any other way influential, while they despise and overlook those
who may be weak and poor, even though acknowledging them to be better than the others. But
most extraordinary of all is their mode of speaking about virtue and the gods: they say
that the gods apportion calamity and misery to many good men, and good and happiness to
the wicked. And mendicant prophets go to rich men's doors and persuade them that they have
a power committed to them by the gods of making an atonement for a man's own or his
ancestor's sins by sacrifices or charms, with rejoicings and feasts; and they promise to
harm an enemy, ether just or unjust, at a small cost; with magic arts and incantations
binding heaven, as they say, to execute their will. And the poets are the authorities to
whom they appeal, now smoothing the path of vice with the words of Hesiod:
17 "Vice may be had in abundance
without trouble; the way is smooth and her dwelling-place is near. But before virtue the
gods have set toil,"
18 and a tedious and uphill road: then
citing Homer as a witness that the gods may be influenced by men; for he also says:
19 "The gods, too, may be turned from
their purpose; and men pray to them and avert their wrath by sacrifices and soothing
entreaties, and by libations and the odor of fat, when they have sinned and
trangressed."
20And they produce a host of books written
by Musaeus and Orpheus, who were children of the Moon and the muses--that is what they
say--according to which they perform their ritual, and persuade not only individuals, but
whole cities, that expiations and atonements for sin may be made by sacrifices and
amusements which fill a vacant hour, and are equally at the service of the living and the
dead; the latter sort they call mysteries, and they redeem us from the pains of hell, but
if we neglect them no one knows what awaits us.
21 He proceeded: And now when the young hear
all this said about virtue and vice, and the way in which gods and men regard them, how
are their minds likely to be affected, my dear Socrates--those of them, I mean, who are
quick-witted, and, like bees on the wing, light on every flower, and from all that they
hear are prone to draw conclusions as to what manner of persons they should be and in what
way they should walk if they would make the best of life? Probably the youth will say to
himself in the words of Pindar:
"Can I by justice or by crooked ways of
deceit ascend a loftier tower which may be a fortress to me all my days?"
22 For what men say is that, if I am really
just and am not also thought just, profit there is none, but the pain and loss on the
other hand are unmistakable. But if, though unjust, I acquire the reputation of justice, a
heavenly life is promised to me. Since then, as philosophers prove, appearance tyrannizes
over truth and is lord of happiness, to appearance I must devote myself. I will describe
around me a picture and shadow of virtue to be the vestibule and exterior of my house;
behind I will trail the subtÉle and crafty fox, as Archilochus, greatest of sages,
recommends. But I hear someone exclaiming that the concealment of wickedness is often
difficult; to which I answer, Nothing great is easy. Nevertheless, the argument indicates
this, if we would be happy, to be the path along which we should proceed. With a view to
concealment we will establish secret brotherhoods and political clubs. And there are
professors of rhetoric who teach the art of persuading courts and assemblies; and so,
partly by persuasion and partly by force, I shall make unlawful gains and not be punished.
Still I hear a voice saying that the gods cannot be deceived, neither can they be
compelled. But what if there are no gods? or, suppose them to have no care of human
things--why in either case should we mind about concealment? And even if there are gods,
and they do care about us, yet we know of them only from tradition and the genealogies of
the poets; and these are the very persons who say that they may be influenced and turned
by "sacrifices and soothing entreaties and by offerings."et us be consistent,
then, and believe both or neither. If the poets speak truly, why, then, we had better be
unjust, and offer of the fruits of injustice; for if we are just, although we may escape
the vengeance of heaven, we shall lose the gains of injustice; but, if we are unjust, we
shall keep the gains, and by our sinning and praying, and praying and sinning, the gods
will be propitiated, and we shall not be punished. "But there is a world below in
which either we or our posterity will suffer for our unjust deeds." Yes, my friend,
will be the reflection, but there are mysteries and atoning deities, and these have great
power. That is what mighty cities declare; and the children of the gods, who were their
poets and prophets, bear a like testimony.
23 On what principle, then, shall we any
longer choose justice rather than the worst injustice? when, if we only unite the latter
with a deceitful regard to appearances, we shall fare to our mind both with gods and men,
in life and after death, as the most numerous and the highest authorities tell us. Knowing
all this, Socrates, how can a man who has any superiority of mind or person or rank or
wealth, be willing to honor justice; or indeed to refrain from laughing when he hears
justice praised? And even if there should be someone who is able to disprove the truth of
my words, and who is satisfied that justice is best, still he is not angry with the
unjust, but is very ready to forgive them, because he also knows that men are not just of
their own free will; unless, peradventure, there be someone whom the divinity within him
may have inspired with a hatred of injustice, or who has attained knowledge of the
truth--but no other man. He only blames injustice, who, owing to cowardice or age or some
weakness, has not the power of being unjust. And this is proved by the fact that when he
obtains the power, he immediately becomes unjust as far as he can be.
24 The cause of all this, Socrates, was
indicated by us at the beginning of the argument, when my brother and I told you how
astonished we were to find that of all the professing panegyrists of justice--beginning
with the ancient heroes of whom any memorial has been preserved to us, and ending with the
men of our own time--no one has ever blamed injustice or praised justice except with a
view to the glories, honors, and benefits which flow from them. No one has ever adequately
described either in verse or prose the true essential nature of either of them abiding in
the soul, and invisible to any human or divine eye; or shown that of all the things of a
man's soul which he has within him, justice is the greatest good, and injustice the
greatest evil. Had this been the universal strain, had you sought to persuade us of this
from our youth upward, we should not have been on the watch to keep one another from doing
wrong, but everyone would have been his own watchman, because afraid, if he did wrong, of
harboring in himself the greatest of evils. I dare say that Thrasymachus and others would
seriously hold the language which I have been merely repeating, and words even stronger
than these about justice and injustice, grossly, as I conceive, perverting their true
nature. But I speak in this vehement manner, as I must frankly confess to you, because I
want to hear from you the opposite side; and I would ask you to show not only the
superiority which justice has over injustice, but what effect they have on the possessor
of them which makes the one to be a good and the other an evil to him. And please, as
Glaucon requested of you, to exclude reputations; for unless you take away from each of
them his true reputation and add on the false, we shall say that you do not praise
justice, but the appearance of it; we shall think that you are only exhorting us to keep
injustice dark, and that you really agree with Thrasymachus in thinking that justice is
another's good and the interest of the stronger, and that injustice is a man's own profit
and interest, though injurious to the weaker. Now as you have admitted that justice is one
of that highest class of goods which are desired, indeed, for their results, but in a far
greater degree for their own sakes--like sight or hearing or knowledge or health, or any
other real and natural and not merely conventional good--I would ask you in your praise of
justice to regard one point only: I mean the essential good and evil which justice and
injustice work in the possessors of them. Let others praise justice and censure injustice,
magnifying the rewards and honors of the one and abusing the other; that is a manner of
arguing which, coming from them, I am ready to tolerate, but from you who have spent your
whole life in the consideration of this question, unless I hear the contrary from your own
lips, I expect something better. And therefore, I say, not only prove to us that justice
is better than injustice, but show what they either of them do to the possessor of them,
which makes the one to be a good and the other an evil, whether seen or unseen by gods and
men.
25 I had always admired the genius of
Glaucon and Adeimantus, but on hearing these words I was quite delighted, and said: Sons
of an illustrious father, that was not a bad beginning of the elegiac verses which the
admirer of Glaucon made in honor of you after you had distinguished yourselves at the
battle of Megara:
"Sons of Ariston," he sang,
"divine offspring of an illustrious hero."
26 The epithet is very appropriate, for
there is something truly divine in being able to argue as you have done for the
superiority of injustice, and remaining unconvinced by your own arguments. And I do
believe that you are not convinced-- this I infer from your general character, for had I
judged only from your speeches I should have mistrusted you. But now, the greater my
confidence in you, the greater is my difficulty in knowing what to say. For I am in a
strait between two; on the one hand I feel that I am unequal to the task; and my inability
is brought home to me by the fact that you were not satisfied with the answer which I made
to Thrasymachus, proving, as I thought, the superiority which justice has over injustice.
And yet I cannot refuse to help, while breath and speech remain to me; I am afraid that
there would be an impiety in being present when justice is evil spoken of and not lifting
up a hand in her defence. And therefore I had best give such help as I can.
27 Glaucon and the rest entreated me by all
means not to let the question drop, but to proceed in the investigation. They wanted to
arrive at the truth, first, about the nature of justice and injustice, and secondly, about
their relative advantages. I told them, what I really thought, that the inquiry would be
of a serious nature, and would require very good eyes. Seeing then, I said, that we are no
great wits, I think that we had better adopt a method which I may illustrate thus; suppose
that a short-sighted person had been asked by someone to read small letters from a
distance; and it occurred to someone else that they might be found in another place which
was larger and in which the letters were larger--if they were the same and he could read
the larger letters first, and then proceed to the lesser --this would have been thought a
rare piece of good-fortune.
Very true, said Adeimantus; but how does the
illustration apply to our inquiry?
I will tell you, I replied; justice, which
is the subject of our inquiry, is, as you know, sometimes spoken of as the virtue of an
individual, and sometimes as the virtue of a State.
True, he replied.
And is not a State larger than an
individual?
It is.
28 Then in the larger the quantity of
justice is likely to be larger and more easily discernible. I propose therefore that we
inquire into the nature of justice and injustice, first as they appear in the State, and
secondly in the individual, proceeding from the greater to the lesser and comparing them.
That, he said, is an excellent proposal.
And if we imagine the State in process of
creation, we shall see the justice and injustice of the State in process of creation also.
I dare say.
29 When the State is completed there may be
a hope that the object of our search will be more easily discovered.
Yes, far more easily.
30 But ought we to attempt to construct one?
I said; for to do so, as I am inclined to think, will be a very serious task. Reflect
therefore.
I have reflected, said Adeimantus, and am
anxious that you should proceed.
31 A State, I said, arises, as I conceive,
out of the needs of mankind; no one is self-sufficing, but all of us have many wants. Can
any other origin of a State be imagined?
There can be no other.
32 Then, as we have many wants, and many
persons are needed to supply them, one takes a helper for one purpose and another for
another; and when these partners and helpers are gathered together in one habitation the
body of inhabitants is termed a State.
True, he said.
33 And they exchange with one another, and
one gives, and another receives, under the idea that the exchange will be for their good.
Very true.
Then, I said, let us begin and create in
idea a State; and yet the true creator is necessity, who is the mother of our invention.
Of course, he replied.
Now the first and greatest of necessities is
food, which is the condition of life and existence.
Certainly.
The second is a dwelling, and the third
clothing and the like.
True.
34 And now let us see how our city will be
able to supply this great demand: We may suppose that one man is a husbandman, another a
builder, someone else a weaver--shall we add to them a shoemaker, or perhaps some other
purveyor to our bodily wants?
Quite right.
The barest notion of a State must include
four or five men.
Clearly.
35 And how will they proceed? Will each
bring the result of his labors into a common stock?--the individual husbandman, for
example, producing for four, and laboring four times as long and as much as he need in the
provision of food with which he supplies others as well as himself; or will he have
nothing to do with others and not be at the trouble of producing for them, but provide for
himself alone a fourth of the food in a fourth of the time, and in the remaining
three-fourths of his time be employed in making a house or a coat or a pair of shoes,
having no partnership with others, but supplying himself all his own wants?
Adeimantus thought that he should aim at
producing food only and not at producing everything.
Probably, I replied, that would be the
better way; and when I hear you say this, I am myself reminded that we are not all alike;
there are diversities of natures among us which are adapted to different occupations.
Very true.
And will you have a work better done when
the workman has many occupations, or when he has only one?
When he has only one.
Further, there can be no doubt that a work
is spoilt when not done at the right time?
No doubt.
36 For business is not disposed to wait
until the doer of the business is at leisure; but the doer must follow up what he is
doing, and make the business his first object.
He must.
37 And if so, we must infer that all things
are produced more plentifully and easily and of a better quality when one man does one
thing which is natural to him and does it at the right time, and leaves other things.
Undoubtedly.
38 Then more than four citizens will be
required; for the husbandman will not make his own plough or mattock, or other implements
of agriculture, if they are to be good for anything. Neither will the builder make his
tools--and he, too, needs many; and in like manner the weaver and shoemaker.
True.
39 Then carpenters and smiths and many other
artisans will be sharers in our little State, which is already beginning to grow?
True.
40 Yet even if we add neatherds, shepherds,
and other herdsmen, in order that our husbandmen may have oxen to plough with, and
builders as well as husbandmen may have draught cattle, and curriers and weavers fleeces
and hides--still our State will not be very large.
That is true; yet neither will it be a very
small State which contains all these.
41 Then, again, there is the situation of
the city--to find a place where nothing need be imported is well-nigh impossible.
Impossible.
Then there must be another class of citizens
who will bring the required supply from another city?
There must.
But if the trader goes empty-handed, having
nothing which they require who would supply his need, he will come back empty-handed.
That is certain.
42 And therefore what they produce at home
must be not only enough for themselves, but such both in quantity and quality as to
accommodate those from whom their wants are supplied.
Very true.
Then more husbandmen and more artisans will
be required?
They will.
Not to mention the importers and exporters,
who are called merchants?
Yes.
Then we shall want merchants?
We shall.
43 And if merchandise is to be carried over
the sea, skilful sailors will also be needed, and in considerable numbers?
Yes, in considerable numbers.
44 Then, again, within the city, how will
they exchange their productions? To secure such an exchange was, as you will remember, one
of our principal objects when we formed them into a society and constituted a State.
Clearly they will buy and sell.
Then they will need a market-place, and a
money-token for purposes of exchange.
Certainly.
45 Suppose now that a husbandman or an
artisan brings some production to market, and he comes at a time when there is no one to
exchange with him--is he to leave his calling and sit idle in the market-place?
46 Not at all; he will find people there
who, seeing the want, undertake the office of salesmen. In well-ordered States they are
commonly those who are the weakest in bodily strength, and therefore of little use for any
other purpose; their duty is to be in the market, and to give money in exchange for goods
to those who desire to sell, and to take money from those who desire to buy.
47 This want, then, creates a class of
retail-traders in our State. Is not "retailer" the term which is applied to
those who sit in the market-place engaged in buying and selling, while those who wander
from one city to another are called merchants?
Yes, he said.
48 And there is another class of servants,
who are intellectually hardly on the level of companionship; still they have plenty of
bodily strength for labor, which accordingly they sell, and are called, if I do not
mistake, hirelings, "hire" being the name which is given to the price of their
labor.
True.
Then hirelings will help to make up our
population?
Yes.
And now, Adeimantus, is our State matured
and perfected?
I think so.
Where, then, is justice, and where is
injustice, and in what part of the State did they spring up?
49 Probably in the dealings of these
citizens with one another. I cannot imagine that they are more likely to be found anywhere
else.
I dare say that you are right in your
suggestion, I said; we had better think the matter out, and not shrink from the inquiry.
50 Let us then consider, first of all, what
will be their way of life, now that we have thus established them. Will they not produce
corn and wine and clothes and shoes, and build houses for themselves? And when they are
housed, they will work, in summer, commonly, stripped and barefoot, but in winter
substantially clothed and shod. They will feed on barley-meal and flour of wheat, baking
and kneading them, making noble cakes and loaves; these they will serve up on a mat of
reeds or on clean leaves, themselves reclining the while upon beds strewn with yew or
myrtle. And they and their children will feast, drinking of the wine which they have made,
wearing garlands on their heads, and hymning the praises of the gods, in happy converse
with one another. And they will take care that their families do not exceed their means;
having an eye to poverty or war.
But, said Glaucon, interposing, you have not
given them a relish to their meal.
51 True, I replied, I had forgotten; of
course they must have a relish--salt and olives and cheese--and they will boil roots and
herbs such as country people prepare; for a dessert we shall give them figs and peas and
beans; and they will roast myrtle-berries and acorns at the fire, drinking in moderation.
And with such a diet they may be expected to live in peace and health to a good old age,
and bequeath a similar life to their children after them.
Yes, Socrates, he said, and if you were
providing for a city of pigs, how else would you feed the beasts?
But what would you have, Glaucon? I replied.
52 Why, he said, you should give them the
ordinary conveniences of life. People who are to be comfortable are accustomed to lie on
sofas, and dine off tables, and they should have sauces and sweets in the modern style.
53 Yes, I said, now I understand: the
question which you would have me consider is, not only how a State, but how a luxurious
State is created; and possibly there is no harm in this, for in such a State we shall be
more likely to see how justice and injustice originate. In my opinion the true and healthy
constitution of the State is the one which I have described. But if you wish also to see a
State at fever-heat, I have no objection. For I suspect that many will not be satisfied
with the simpler way of life. They will be for adding sofas and tables and other
furniture; also dainties and perfumes and incense and courtesans and cakes, all these not
of one sort only, but in every variety. We must go beyond the necessaries of which I was
at first speaking, such as houses and clothes and shoes; the arts of the painter and the
embroiderer will have to be set in motion, and gold and ivory and all sorts of materials
must be procured.
True, he said.
54 Then we must enlarge our borders; for the
original healthy State is no longer sufficient. Now will the city have to fill and swell
with a multitude of callings which are not required by any natural want; such as the whole
tribe of hunters and actors, of whom one large class have to do with forms and colors;
another will be the votaries of music--poets and their attendant train of rhapsodists,
players, dancers, contractors; also makers of divers kinds of articles, including women's
dresses. And we shall want more servants. Will not tutors be also in request, and nurses
wet and dry, tirewomen and barbers, as well as confectioners and cooks; and swineherds,
too, who were not needed and therefore had no place in the former edition of our State,
but are needed now? They must not be forgotten: and there will be animals of many other
kinds, if people eat them.
Certainly.
And living in this way we shall have much
greater need of physicians than before?
Much greater.
And the country which was enough to support
the original inhabitants will be too small now, and not enough?
Quite true.
55 Then a slice of our neighbors' land will
be wanted by us for pasture and tillage, and they will want a slice of ours, if, like
ourselves, they exceed the limit of necessity, and give themselves up to the unlimited
accumulation of wealth?
That, Socrates, will be inevitable.
And so we shall go to war, Glaucon. Shall we
not?
56 Most certainly, he replied. Then, without
determining as yet whether war does good or harm, thus much we may affirm, that now we
have discovered war to be derived from causes which are also the causes of almost all the
evils in States, private as well as public.
Undoubtedly.
57 And our State must once more enlarge; and
this time the enlargement will be nothing short of a whole army, which will have to go out
and fight with the invaders for all that we have, as well as for the things and persons
whom we were describing above.
Why? he said; are they not capable of
defending themselves?
58 No, I said; not if we were right in the
principle which was acknowledged by all of us when we were framing the State. The
principle, as you will remember, was that one man cannot practise many arts with success.
Very true, he said.
But is not war an art?
Certainly.
And an art requiring as much attention as
shoemaking?
Quite true.
59 And the shoemaker was not allowed by us
to be a husbandman, or a weaver, or a builder--in order that we might have our shoes well
made; but to him and to every other worker was assigned one work for which he was by
nature fitted, and at at he was to continue working all his life long and at no other;
he was not to let opportunities slip, and then he would become a good workman. Now nothing
can be more important than that the work of a soldier should be well done. But is war an
art so easily acquired that a man may be a warrior who is also a husbandman, or shoemaker,
or other artisan; although no one in the world would be a good dice or draught player who
merely took up the game as a recreation, and had not from his earliest years devoted
himself to this and nothing else?
60 No tools will make a man a skilled
workman or master of defence, nor be of any use to him who has not learned how to handle
them, and has never bestowed any attention upon them. How, then, will he who takes up a
shield or other implement of war become a good fighter all in a day, whether with
heavyarmed or any other kind of troops?
Yes, he said, the tools which would teach
men their own use would be beyond price.
And the higher the duties of the guardian, I
said, the more time and skill and art and application will be needed by him?
No doubt, he replied.
Will he not also require natural aptitude
for his calling?
Certainly.
Then it will be our duty to select, if we
can, natures which are fitted for the task of guarding the city?
It will.
And the selection will be no easy matter, I
said; but we must be brave and do our best.
We must.
Is not the noble youth very like a well-bred
dog in respect of guarding and watching?
What do you mean?
61 I mean that both of them ought to be
quick to see, and swift to overtake the enemy when they see him; and strong too if, when
they have caught him, they have to fight with him.
All these qualities, he replied, will
certainly be required by them.
Well, and your guardian must be brave if he
is to fight well?
Certainly.
62 And is he likely to be brave who has no
spirit, whether horse or dog or any other animal? Have you never observed how invincible
and unconquerable is spirit and how the presence of it makes the soul of any creature to
be absolutely fearless and indomitable?
I have.
Then now we have a clear notion of the
bodily qualities which are required in the guardian.
True.
And also of the mental ones; his soul is to
be full of spirit?
Yes.
But are not these spirited natures apt to be
savage with one another, and with everybody else?
A difficulty by no means easy to overcome,
he replied.
63 Whereas, I said, they ought to be
dangerous to their enemies, and gentle to their friends; if not, they will destroy
themselves without waiting for their enemies to destroy them.
True, he said.
64 What is to be done, then? I said; how
shall we find a gentle nature which has also a great spirit, for the one is the
contradiction of the other?
True.
65 He will not be a good guardian who is
wanting in either of these two qualities; and yet the combination of them appears to be
impossible; and hence we must infer that to be a good guardian is impossible.
I am afraid that what you say is true, he
replied.
Here feeling perplexed I began to think over
what had preceded. My friend, I said, no wonder that we are in a perplexity; for we have
lost sight of the image which we had before us.
What do you mean? he said.
I mean to say that there do exist natures
gifted with those opposite qualities.
And where do you find them?
66 Many animals, I replied, furnish examples
of them; our friend the dog is a very good one: you know that well-bred dogs are perfectly
gentle to their familiars and acquaintances, and the reverse to strangers.
Yes, I know.
67 Then there is nothing impossible or out
of the order of nature in our finding a guardian who has a similar combination of
qualities?
Certainly not.
Would not he who is fitted to be a guardian,
besides the spirited nature, need to have the qualities of a philosopher?
I do not apprehend your meaning.
The trait of which I am speaking, I replied,
may be also seen in the dog, and is remarkable in the animal.
What trait?
68 Why, a dog, whenever he sees a stranger,
is angry; when an acquaintance, he welcomes him, although the one has never done him any
harm, nor the other any good. Did this never strike you as curious?
The matter never struck me before; but I
quite recognize the truth of your remark.
And surely this instinct of the dog is very
charming; your dog is a true philosopher.
Why?
69 Why, because he distinguishes the face of
a friend and of an enemy only by the criterion of knowing and not knowing. And must not an
animal be a lover of learning who determines what he likes and dislikes by the test of
knowledge and ignorance?
Most assuredly.
And is not the love of learning the love of
wisdom, which is philosophy?
And may we not say confidently of man also,
that he who is likely to be gentle to his friends and acquaintances, must by nature be a
lover of wisdom and knowledge?
That we may safely affirm.
70 Then he who is to be a really good and
noble guardian of the State will require to unite in himself philosophy and spirit and
swiftness and strength?
Undoubtedly.
71 Then we have found the desired natures;
and now that we have found them, how are they to be reared and educated? Is not this an
inquiry which may be expected to throw light on the greater inquiry which is our final
end--How do justice and injustice grow up in States? for we do not want either to omit
what is to the point or to draw out the argument to an inconvenient length.
Adeimantus thought that the inquiry would be
of great service to us.
Then, I said, my dear friend, the task must
not be given up, even if somewhat long.
Certainly not.
Come then, and let us pass a leisure hour in
story-telling, and our story shall be the education of our heroes.
By all means.
72 And what shall be their education? Can we
find a better than the traditional sort?--and this has two divisions, gymnastics for the
body, and music for the soul.
True.
Shall we begin education with music, and go
on to gymnastics afterward?
By all means.
And when you speak of music, do you include
literature or not?
I do.
And literature may be either true or false?
Yes.
And the young should be trained in both
kinds, and we begin with the false?
I do not understand your meaning, he said.
73 You know, I said, that we begin by
telling children stories which, though not wholly destitute of truth, are in the main
fictitious; and these stories are told them when they are not of an age to learn
gymnastics.
Very true.
That was my meaning when I said that we must
teach music before gymnastics.
Quite right, he said.
74 You know also that the beginning is the
most important part of any work, especially in the case of a young and tender thing; for
that is the time at which the character is being formed and the desired impression is more
readily taken.
Quite true.
75 And shall we just carelessly allow
children to hear any casual tales whicmay be devised by casual persons, and to receive
into their minds ideas for the most part the very opposite of those which we should wish
them to have when they are grown up?
We cannot.
76 Then the first thing will be to establish
a censorship of the writers of fiction, and let the censors receive any tale of fiction
which is good, and reject the bad; and we will desire mothers and nurses to tell their
children the authorized ones only. Let them fashion the mind with such tales, even more
fondly than they mould the body with their hands; but most of those which are now in use
must be discarded.
Of what tales are you speaking? he said.
77 You may find a model of the lesser in the
greater, I said; for they are necessarily of the same type, and there is the same spirit
in both of them.
Very likely, he replied; but I do not as yet
know what you would term the greater.
Those, I said, which are narrated by Homer
and Hesiod, and the rest of the poets, who have ever been the great storytellers of
mankind.
But which stories do you mean, he said; and
what fault do you find with them?
A fault which is most serious, I said; the
fault of telling a lie, and, what is more, a bad lie.
But when is this fault committed?
Whenever an erroneous representation is made
of the nature of gods and heroes--as when a painter paints a portrait not having the
shadow of a likeness to the original.
Yes, he said, that sort of thing is
certainly very blamable; but what are the stories which you mean?
78 First of all, I said, there was that
greatest of all lies in high places, which the poet told about Uranus, and which was a bad
lie too--I mean what Hesiod says that Uranus did, and how Cronus retaliated on him. The
doings of Cronus, and the sufferings which in turn his son inflicted upon him, even if
they were true, ought certainly not to be lightly told to young and thoughtless persons;
if possible, they had better be buried in silence. But if there is an absolute necessity
for their mention, a chosen few might hear them in a mystery, and they should sacrifice
not a common [Eleusinian] pig, but s*ome huge and unprocurable victim; and then the number
of the hearers will be very few indeed.
Why, yes, said he, those stories are
extremely objectionable.
79 Yes, Adeimantus, they are stories not to
be repeated in our State; the young man should not be told that in committing the worst of
crimes he is far from doing anything outrageous; and that even if he chastises his father
when he does wrong, in whatever manner, he will only be following the example of the first
and greatest among the gods.
I entirely agree with you, he said; in my
opinion those stories are quite unfit to be repeated.
80 Neither, if we mean our future guardians
to regard the habit of quarrelling among themselves as of all things the basest, should
any word be said to them of the wars in heaven, and of the plots and fightings of the gods
ainst one another, for they are not true. No, we shall never mention the battles of the
giants, or let them be embroidered on garments; and we shall be silent about the
innumerable other quarrels of gods and heroes with their friends and relatives. If they
would only believe us we would tell them that quarrelling is unholy, and that never up to
this time has there been any quarrel between citizens; this is what old men and old women
should begin by telling children; and when they grow up, the poets also should be told to
compose them in a similar spirit. But the narrative of Hephaestus binding Here his mother,
or how on another occasion Zeus sent him flying for taking her part when she was being
beaten, and all the battles of the gods in Homer--these tales must not be admitted into
our State, whether they are supposed to have an allegorical meaning or not. For a young
person cannot judge what is allegorical and what is literal; anything that he receives
into his mind at that age is likely to become indelible and unalterable; and therefore it
is most important that the tales which the young first hear should be models of virtuous
thoughts.
There you are right, he replied; but if
anyone asks where are such models to be found and of what tales are you speaking--how
shall we answer him?
81 I said to him, You and I, Adeimantus, at
this moment are not poets, but founders of a State: now the founders of a State ought to
know the general forms in which poets should cast their tales, and the limits which must
be observed by them, but to make the tales is not their business.
Very true, he said; but what are these forms
of theology which you mean?
Something of this kind, I replied: God is
always to be represented as he truly is, whatever be the sort of poetry, epic, lyric, or
tragic, in which the representation is given.
Right.
And is he not truly good? and must he not be
represented as such?
Certainly.
And no good thing is hurtful?
No, indeed.
And that which is not hurtful hurts not?
Certainly not.
And that which hurts not does no evil?
No.
82 And can that which does no evil be a
cause of evil?
Impossible.
And the good is advantageous?
Yes.
And therefore the cause of well-being?
Yes.
It follows, therefore, that the good is not
the cause of all things, but of the good only?
Assuredly.
83 Then God, if he be good, is not the
author of all things, as the many assert, but he is the cause of a few things only, and
not of most things that occur to men. For few are the goods of human life, and many are
the evilsand the good is to be attributed to God alone; of the evils the causes are to
be sought elsewhere, and not in him.
That appears to me to be most true, he said.
Then we must not listen to Homer or to any
other poet who is guilty of the folly of saying that two casks
"Lie at the threshold of Zeus, full of
lots, one of good, the other of evil lots,"
and that he to whom Zeus gives a mixture of
the two
"Sometimes meets with evil fortune, at
other times with good;"
but that he to whom is given the cup of
unmingled ill,
"Him wild hunger drives o'er the
beauteous earth."
84 And again--
"Zeus, who is the dispenser of good and
evil to us."
85 And if anyone asserts that the violation
of oaths and treaties, which was really the work of Pandarus, was brought about by Athene
and Zeus, or that the strife and contention of the gods were instigated by Themis and
Zeus, he shall not have our approval; neither will we allow our young men to hear the
words of AEschylus, that
"God plants guilt among men when he
desires utterly to destroy a house."
86 And if a poet writes of the sufferings of
Niobe--the subject of the tragedy in which these iambic verses occur--or of the house of
Pelops, or of the Trojan War or on any similar theme, either we must not permit him to say
that these are the works of God, or if they are of God, he must devise some explanation of
them such as we are seeking: he must say that God did what was just and right, and they
were the better for being punished; but that those who are punished are miserable, and
that God is the author of their misery--the poet is not to be permitted to say; though he
may say that the wicked are miserable because they require to be punished, and are
benefited by receiving punishment from God; but that God being good is the author of evil
to anyone is to be strenuously denied, and not to be said or sung or heard in verse or
prose by anyone whether old or young in any well-ordered commonwealth. Such a fiction is
suicidal, ruinous, impious. </font>
I agree with you, he replied, and am ready
to give my assent to the law.
Let this then be one of our rules and
principles concerning the gods, to which our poets and reciters will be expected to
conform--that God is not the author of all things, but of good only.
That will do, he said.
87 And what do you think of a second
principle? Shall I ask you whether God is a magician, and of a nature to appear
insidiously now in one shape, and now in another--sometimes himself changing and passing
into many forms, sometimes deceiving us with the semblance of such transformations; or is
he one and the same immutably fixed in his own proper image?
I cannot answer you, he said, without more
thought.
Well, I said; but if we suppose a change in anything, that change must be effected either by the thing itself or by some other thing?
Most certainly.
88 And things which are at their best are
also least liable to be altered or discomposed; for example, when healthiest and
strongest, the human frame is least liable to be affected by meats and drinks, and the
plant which is in the fullest vigor also suffers least from winds or the heat of the sun
or any similar causes.
Of course.
And will not the bravest and wisest soul be
least confused or deranged by any external influence?
True.
And the same principle, as I should suppose,
applies to all composite things--furniture, houses, garments: when good and well made,
they are least altered by time and circumstances.
Very true.
89 Then everything which is good, whether
made by art or nature, or both, is least liable to suffer change from without?
True.
But surely God and the things of God are in
every way perfect?
Of course they are.
Then he can hardly be compelled by external
influence to take many shapes?
He cannot.
But may he not change and transform himself?
Clearly, he said, that must be the case if
he is changed at all.
And will he then change himself for the
better and fairer, or for the worse and more unsightly?
90 If he change at all he can only change
for the worse, for we cannot suppose him to be deficient either in virtue or beauty.
Very true, Adeimantus; but then, would
anyone, whether God or man, desire to make himself worse?
Impossible.
91 Then it is impossible that God should
ever be willing to change; being, as is supposed, the fairest and best that is
conceivable, every God remains absolutely and forever in his own form.
That necessarily follows, he said, in my
judgment.
Then, I said, my dear friend, let none of
the poets tell us that
"The gods, taking the disguise of
strangers from other lands, walk up and down cities in all sorts of forms;"
and let no one slander Proteus and Thetis,
neither let anyone, either in tragedy or in any other kind of poetry, introduce Here
disguised in the likeness of a priestess asking an alms
"For the life-giving daughters of
Inachus the river of Argos;"
--92 let us have no more lies of that sort.
Neither must we have mothers under the influence of the poets scaring their ildren with
a bad version of these myths--telling how certain gods, as they say, "Go about by
night in the likeness of so many strangers and in divers forms;" but let them take
heed lest they make cowards of their children, and at the same time speak blasphemy
against the gods.
Heaven forbid, he said.
93 But although the gods are themselves
unchangeable, still by witchcraft and deception they may make us think that they appear in
various forms?
Perhaps, he replied.
94 Well, but can you imagine that God will
be willing to lie, whether in word or deed, or to put forth a phantom of himself?
I cannot say, he replied.
Do you not know, I said, that the true lie,
if such an expression may be allowed, is hated of gods and men?
What do you mean? he said.
95 I mean that no one is willingly deceived
in that which is the truest and highest part of himself, or about the truest and highest
matters; there, above all, he is most afraid of a lie having possession of him.
Still, he said, I do not comprehend you.
96 The reason is, I replied, that you
attribute some profound meaning to my words; but I am only saying that deception, or being
deceived or uninformed about the highest realities in the highest part of themselves,
which is the soul, and in that part of them to have and to hold the lie, is what mankind
least like; --that, I say, is what they utterly detest.
There is nothing more hateful to them.
97 And, as I was just now remarking, this
ignorance in the soul of him who is deceived may be called the true lie; for the lie in
words is only a kind of imitation and shadowy image of a previous affection of the soul,
not pure unadulterated falsehood. Am I not right?
Perfectly right.
The true lie is hated not only by the gods,
but also by men?
Yes.
98 Whereas the lie in words is in certain
cases useful and not hateful; in dealing wÌith enemies--that would be an instance; or
again, when those whom we call our friends in a fit of madness or illusion are going to do
some harm, then it is useful and is a sort of medicine or preventive; also in the tales of
mythology, of which we were just now speaking--because we do not know the truth about
ancient times, we make falsehood as much like truth as we can, and so turn it to account.
Very true, he said.
99 But can any of these reasons apply to
God? Can we suppose that he is ignorant of antiquity, and therefore has recourse to
invention?
That would be ridiculous, he said.
Then the lying poet has no place in our idea
of God?
I should say not.
Or perhaps he may tell aie because he is
afraid of enemies?
That is inconceivable.
But he may have friends who are senseless or
mad?
But no mad or senseless person can be a
friend of God.
Then no motive can be imagined why God
should lie?
None whatever.
Then the superhuman, and divine, is
absolutely incapable of falsehood?
Yes.
99 Then is God perfectly simple and true
both in word and deed; he changes not; he deceives not, either by sign or word, by dream
or waking vision.
Your thoughts, he said, are the reflection
of my own.
100 You agree with me then, I said, that
this is the second type or form in which we should write and speak about divine things.
The gods are not magicians who transform themselves, neither do they deceive mankind in
any way.
I grant that.
Then, although we are admirers of Homer, we
do not admire the lying dream which Zeus sends to Agamemnon; neither will we praise the
verses of AEschylus in which Thetis says that Apollo at her nuptials
101 "was celebrating in song her fair
progeny whose days were to be long, and to know no sickness. And when he had spoken of my
lot as in all things blessed of heaven, he raised a note of triumph and cheered my soul.
And I thought that the word of Phoebus, being divine and full of prophecy, would not fail.
And now he himself who uttered the strain, he who was present at the banquet, and who said
this--he it is who has slain my son."
102 These are the kind of sentiments about
the gods which will arouse our anger; and he who utters them shall be refused a chorus;
neither shall we allow teachers to make use of them in the instruction of the young,
meaning, as we do, that our guardians, as far as men can be, should be true worshippers of
the gods and like them.
I entirely agree, he said, in these
principles, and promise to make them my laws.
