Plato’s Republic

Plato’s Republic

330d

Cephalus:
“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 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 and good hope is ever beside him—a nurse of his old age, as Pindar puts it…”

338d

Thrasymachus:

“Don’t you know,” he said, “that some cities are ruled tyrannically, some democratically, and some aristocratically?”

Socrates:

“Of course.”

“In each city, isn’t the ruling group master?”
“Certainly.”
“And each ruling group sets dowm 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 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.”

“Well, then,” I said, “also suppose that you’re agreed that it is just 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.”

343-344

Thrasymachus:
“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 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 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 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 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.”

347-348

Socrates:
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 of the 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.”

350c

Socrates:

“And the just man will not get the better of like but of unlike?”

Thrasymachus:

“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.”

351a-c

Socrates:

But now,” I said.

“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 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?”

“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.”

351c-352d

Socrates:

“…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?” “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 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.

“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.
“Then the unjust man will also be an enemy to the gods, Thrasymachus, and the just man a friend.”

“Feast yourself boldly on the argument,” he said, “for I won’t oppose 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 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 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.

358e-362c

Glaucon:

“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

and taste of both, it seems profitable—to those who are not able to escape the one and choose the other—to set down a compact among 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 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 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 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

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. 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

and taste of both, it seems profitable—to those who are not able to escape the one and choose the other—to set down a compact among 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 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 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 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 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. 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 be one of the messengers to the king. When he arrived, he committed 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 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 suffering injustice. So much for that.

“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 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. 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

capable both of speaking persuasively and of using force, to the extent 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 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 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 of justice. 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 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.

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 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.”

374d-375d

Socrates:

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 ourselves. But nevertheless, we mustn’t be cowardly, at least as far as it’s in our power.”

“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 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.”
“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- lows that a good guardian is impossible.”

“I’m afraid so,” he said.

376b-

Socrates:

“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 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.”

“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.”

“”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 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?”

“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 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 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. “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

part opposite to those we’ll suppose they must have when they are 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 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?”

“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 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 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. “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 be doing only what the first and the greatest of the gods did.”

Book III

389c-d

Socrates:

“Then, it’s appropriate for the rulers, if for anyone at all, to lie for the benefit of the city in cases involving enemies or citizens, while all the rest must not put their hands to anything of the sort. We’ll say that for a private man to lie to such rulers is a fault the same as, and even greater than, for a sick man or a man in training not to tell the truth about the affections of his body to the doctor or the trainer, or for a man not to say to the pilot the things that are^^ concerning the ship and the sailors, lying about how he himself or his fellow sailors are faring.

395c-396a

Socrates & Adeimantus:

“If, then, we are to preserve the first argument—that our guard- ians must give up all other crafts and very precisely be craftsmen of the city’s freedom and practice nothing other than what tends to it—they also mustn’t do or imitate anything else. And if they do imitate, they must imitate what’s appropriate to them from childhood; men who are courageous, moderate, holy, free, and everything of the sort; and what is slavish, or anything else shameftil, they must neither do nor be clever at imitating, so that they won’t get a taste for the being from its imitation. Or haven’t you observed that imitations, if they are practiced continually from youth onwards, become established as habits and nature, in body and sounds and in thought?”

“Quite so,” he said.

“So then,” I said, “we won’t allow those whom we claim we care for and who must themselves become good men to imitate wom- en—since they are men—either a young woman or an older one, or one who’s abusing her husband, or one who’s striving with gods and boasting because she supposes herself to be happy, or one who’s caught in the grip of misfortune, mourning and wailing. And we’ll be far from needing one who’s sick or in love or in labor.

“That’s entirely certain, ” he said.
“Nor must they in any event imitate slaves, women or men, who are doing the slavish things.”

“No, they mustn’t.”
“Nor, as it seems, bad men who are cowards and doing the opposite of what we just now said, insulting and making fun of one another, and using shameful language, drunk or sober, or committing the other faults that such men commit against themselves and others in speeches and deeds. Nor do I suppose they should be accustomed to likening themselves to madmen in speeches or in deeds. For, although they must know both mad and worthless men and women, they must neither do nor imitate anything of theirs.”

401b-402a

Socrates & Glaucon:

“Must we, then, supervise only the poets and compel them to im- press the image of the good disposition on their poems or not to make them among us? Or must we also supervise the other craftsmen and prevent them from impressing this bad disposition, a licentious, illiberal, and graceless one, either on images of animals or on houses or on anything else that their craft produces? And the incapable craftsman we mustn’t permit to practice his craft among us, so that our guardians won’t be reared on images of vice, as it were on bad grass, every day cropping and grazing on a great deal little by little from many places, and unawares put together some one big bad thing in their soul? Mustn’t we, rather, look for those craftsmen whose good natural en- dowments make them able to track down the nature of what is fine and graceful, so that the young, dwelling as it were in a healthy place, will be benefited by everything; and from that place something of the fine works will strike their vision or their hearing, like a breeze bringing health from good places; and beginning in childhood, it will, without their awareness, with the fair speech lead them to likeness and friendship as well as accord?”

“In this way,” he said, “they’d have by far the finest rearing.”

“So, Glaucon,” I said, “isn’t this why the rearing in music is most sovereign? Because rhythm and harmony most of all insinuate them- selves into the inmost part of the soul and most vigorously lay hold of it in bringing grace with them; and they make a man graceful if he is cor- rectly reared, if not, the opposite. Furthermore, it is sovereign because the man properly reared on rhythm and harmony would have the sharpest sense for what’s been left out and what isn’t a fine product of craft or what isn’t a fine product of nature. And, due to his having the right kind of dislikes, he would praise the fine things; and, taking pleasure in them and receiving them into his soul, he would be reared on them and become a gentleman. He would blame and hate the ugly in the right way while he’s still young, before he’s able to grasp reasonable speech. And when reasonable speech comes, the man who’s reared in this way would take most delight in it, recognizing it on account of its being akin?”

“In my opinion, at least,” he said, “it’s for such reasons that there’s rearing in music.”

402c

Socrates:

“So, in the name of the gods, is it as I say: we’ll never be musical—either ourselves or those whom we say we must educate to be guardians—^before we recognize the forms of moderation, courage, liberality, magnificence, and all their kin, and, again, their opposites, everywhere they turn up, and notice that they are in whatever they are in, both themselves and their images, despising them neither in little nor big things, but believing that they all belong to the same art and discipline?”

410c

Socrates & Glaucon:

“Then, Glaucon,” I said, “did those who established an education in music and gymnastic do so for other reasons than the one supposed by some, that the latter should care for the body and the former for the soul?”

“For what else, then?” he said.

“It’s likely,” I said, “that they established both chiefly for the soul.”

413d-414a

Socrates:

“Correct,” he said.

“Then,” I said, “we must also make them a competition for the third form, wizardry, and we must look on. Just as they lead colts to noises and confosions and observe if they’re fearfol, so these men when they are young must be brought to terrors and then cast in turn into pleasures, testing them far more than gold in fire. If a man appears hard to bewitch and graceful in everything, a good guardian of himself and the music he was learning, proving himself to possess rhythm and harmony on all these occasions—such a man would certainly be most useful to himself and the city. And the one who on each occasion, among the children and youths and among the men, is tested and comes through untainted, must be appointed ruler of the city and guardian; and he must be given honors, both while living and when dead, and must be allotted the greatest prizes in burial and the other memorials. And the man who’s not of this sort must be rejected. The selection and appointment of the rulers and guardians is, in my opinion, Glaucon,” I said, “something like this, not described precisely, but by way of a model.”

420b-d

Socrates:

“We’ll say that it wouldn’t be surprising if these men, as they are, are also happiest. However, in founding the city we are not looking to the exceptional happiness of any one group among us but, as far as possible, that of the city as a whole… So now too, don’t compel us to attach to the guardians a happiness that will turn them into everything except guardians…”

424a-b

Socrates:

“And hence… the regime, once well started, will roll on like a circle in its growth. For sound rearing and education, when they are preserved, produce good natures; and sound natures, in their turn receiving such an education, grow up still better than those before them, for procreation as well as for the other things, as is also the case with the other animals… the overseers of the city must cleave to this, not letting it be corrupted unawares, but guarding it against all comers: there must be no innovation in gymnastic and music contrary to the established order; but they will guard against it as much as they can…”

429a

Socrates:

“It is, therefore, from the smallest group and part of itself and the knowledge in it, from the supervisingis and ruling part, that a city founded according to nature would be wise as a whole. And this class, which properly has a share in that knowledge which alone among the various kinds of knowledge ought to be called wisdom, has, as it seems, the fewest members by nature.”

433b-c

Socrates:

“In my opinion… after having considered moderation, courage, and prvidence, this is what’s left over in the city; it provided the power by which all these others came into being; and, once having come into being, it provides them with preservation as long as it’s in the city. And yet we were saying that justice would be what’s left over c from the three if we fovmd them.”

443cde

Socrates & Glaucon:

“And this, Glaucon, turns out to be after all a kind of phantom of

justice—that’s also why it’s helpful—the fact that the shoemaker by nature rightly practices shoemaking and does nothing else, and the carpenter practices carpentry, and so on for the rest.”

“It looks like it.”

“But in truth justice was, as it seems, something of this sort; however, not with respect to a man’s minding his external business, but with respect to what is within, with respect to what truly concerns him and his own. He doesn’t let each part in him mind other people’s business or the three classes in the soul meddle with each other, but really sets his own house in good order and rules himself; he arranges himself, becomes his own friend, and harmonizes the three parts, exactly like three notes in a harmonic scale, lowest, highest and middle. And if there are some other parts in between, he binds them together and becomes entirely one from many, moderate and harmonized. Then, and only then, he acts, if he does act in some way—either concerning the acquisition of money, or the care of the body, or something political, or concerning private contracts. In all these actions he believes and names a just and fine action one that preserves and helps to produce this condition, and wisdom the knowledge that supervises** this action; while he believes and names an unjust action one that undoes this condition,’ and lack of learning, in its turn, the opinion that supervises this action.”

444d-e

Socrates:

“To produce health is to establish the parts of the body in a relation of mastering, and being mastered by, one another that is according to nature, while to produce sickness is to establish a relation of ruling, and being ruled by, one another that is contrary to nature… Then, in its turn… isn’t to produce justice to establish the parts of the soul in a relation of mastering, and being mastered by, one another that is according to nature, while to produce injustice is to establish a relation of ruling, and being ruled by, one another that is contrary to nature? … Virtue, then, as it seems, would be a certain health, beauty and e good condition of a soul, and vice a sickness, ugliness and weakness.”

445c-d

Socrates:

“There are… likely to be as many types of soul as there are types of regimes possessing distinct forms… Five of regimes… and five of soul.”

454e

Socrates:

“If either the class of men or that of women shows its superiority in some art or other practice, then we’ll say that that art must be assigned to it. But if they look as though they differ in this alone, that the female bears and the male mounts, we’ll assert that it has not thereby yet been proved that a woman differs from a man with respect to what we’re talking about; rather, we’ll still suppose that our guardians and their women must practice the same things.”

456a-b

Socrates:

“Men and women, therefore, also have the same nature with respect to guarding a city, except insofar as the one is weaker and the other stronger… Such women, therefore, must also be chosen to live and guard with such men, since they are competent and akin to the men in their nature.”

457d

Socrates:

“All these women are to belong to all these men in common, and no woman is to live privately with any man. And the children, in their turn, will be in common, and neither will a parent know his own offspring, nor a child his parent.”

458d

Socrates:

“Well, then,” I said, “you, their lawgiver, just as you selected the men, will hand over the women to them, having selected them in the same way too, with natures that are as similar as possible. And all of them will be together, since they have common houses and mess, with no one privately possessing anything of the kind. And, mixed together in gymnastic exercise and the rest of the training, they’ll be led by an

455 a

Socrates:

“You, their lawgiver, just as you selected the men, will hand over the women to them, having selected them in the same way too, with natures that are as similar as possible. And all of them will be together, since they have common houses and mess, with no one privately possessing anything of the kind. And, mixed together in gymnastic exercise and the rest of the training, they’ll be led by an inner natural necessity to sexual mixing with one another, I suppose. ”

464a

Socrates:

“But we further agreed that the community of pain and pleasure is the greatest good for a city, likening the good governing of a city to a body’s relation to the pain of one of its parts.”

464c

Socrates:

“…there mustn’t be private houses for them, nor land, nor any possession. Instead they must get their livelihood from the others, as a wage for guarding, and use it up in common all together, if they are really to be guardians.”

465b

Socrates:

“Since they are free from faction among themselves, there won’t ever be any danger that the rest of the city will split into factions against these guardians or one another.”

473

Socrates:

“Unless… the philosophers rule as kings or those now called kings and chiefs genuinely and adequately philosophize, andpolitical power and philosophy coincide in the same place, while the many natures now making their way to either apart from the other are by necessity excluded, there is no rest from ills for the cities, my dear Glaucon, nor I think for human  kind, nor will the regime we have now described in speech ever come forth from nature, insofar as possible, and see the light of the sun. This is what for so long was causing my hesitation to speak: seeing how very paradoxical it would be to say…”

473d

Socrates:

“It was proper for another, Glaucon, to say what you’re saying,” I said. “But it’s not proper for an erotic man to forget that all boys in the bloom of youth in one way or another put their sting in an erotic lover of boys and arouse him; all seem worthy of attention and delight. Or don’t you people behave that way with the fair? You praise the boy with a snub nose by calling him ‘cute’; the hook-nose of another you say is ‘kingly’; and the boy between these two is ‘well proportioned’; the dark look ‘manly’; and the white are ‘children of gods.’ And as for the ‘honey-colored,’ do you suppose their very name is the work of anyone other than a lover who renders sallowness endearing and easily puts up with it if it accompanies the bloom of youth? And, in a word, you people take advantage of every excuse and employ any expression so as to reject none of those who glow with the bloom of youth.”

503b

Socrates:

“And let’s now dare to say this: philosophers must be established as the most precise guardians.”

506a

“Now this is what every soul pursues and for the sake of which it does everything. The soul divines that it is something but is at a loss about it and unable to get a sufficient grasp ofjust what it is, or to have a stable trust such as it has about the rest. And because this is so, the soul loses any profit there might have been in the rest. Will we say that even those best men in the city, into whose hands we put everything, must be thus in the dark about a thing of this kind and importance?”

508d-e

Socrates:

“Well, then, think that the soul is also characterized in this way. When it fixes itself on that which is illumined by truth and that which is, it intellects, knows, and appears to possess intelligence. But when it fixes itself on that which is mixed with darkness, on coming into being and passing away, it opines and is dimmed, changing opinions up and down, and seems at such times not to possess intelligence… Therefore, say that what provides the truth to the things known and gives the power to the one who knows, is the idea of the good…”

511d-e

Socrates:

“…take these four affections arising in the soul in relation to the four segments: intellection in relation to the highest one, and thought in relation to the second; to the third assign trust, and to the last imagina- tion.39 Arrange them in a proportion, and believe that as the seg- ments to which they correspond participate in truth, so they participate in clarity.”

514a-515a

Socrates:

“Next, then,” I said, “make an image of our nature in its educa- tion and want of education, likening it to a condition of the following kind. See human beings as though they were in an underground cave-like dwelhng with its entrance, a long one, open to the light across the whole width of the cave. They are in it from childhood with their legs and necks in bonds so that they are fixed, seeing only in front of them, unable because of the bond to turn their heads all the way around. Their light is from a fire burning far above and behind them. Between the fire and the prisoners there is a road above, along which see a wall, built like the partitions puppet-handlers set in front of the human beings and over which they show the puppets…”

517b

Socrates:

“Liken the domain re- vealed through sight to the prison home, and the light of the fire in it to the sun’s power; and, in applying the going up and the seeing of what’s above to the soul’s journey up to the intelligible place…”

520d

Socrates:

“‘And thus, the city will be governed by us and by you in a state of waking, not in a dream as the many cities nowadays are governed by men who fight over shadows with one another and form factions for the sake of ruling, as though it were some great good. But the truth is surely this: that city in which those who are going to rule are least eager to rule is necessarily governed in the way that is best and freest from faction, while the one that gets the opposite kind of rulers is governed in the opposite way. ‘”

521a

Socrates:

“When ruling becomes a thing fought over, such a war—a domestic war, one within the family—de- stroys these men themselves and the rest of the city as well.”

 

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