Complete Works

by Plato, Cooper, John M. , Hutchinson, D. S.

  And these two, having been nurtured in this way, and having truly learned their own roles and been educated in them, will govern the appetitive part, which is the largest part in each person’s soul and is by nature most insatiable for money. They’ll watch over it to see that it isn’t filled with the so-called pleasures of the body and that it doesn’t become so big and strong that it no longer does its own work but attempts to enslave and rule over the classes it isn’t fitted to rule, thereby overturning everyone’s whole life. [b]

  That’s right.

  Then, wouldn’t these two parts also do the finest job of guarding the whole soul and body against external enemies—reason by planning, spirit by fighting, following its leader, and carrying out the leader’s decisions through its courage?

  Yes, that’s true.

  And it is because of the spirited part, I suppose, that we call a single individual courageous, namely, when it preserves through pains and pleasures [c] the declarations of reason about what is to be feared and what isn’t.

  That’s right.

  And we’ll call him wise because of that small part of himself that rules in him and makes those declarations and has within it the knowledge of what is advantageous for each part and for the whole soul, which is the community of all three parts.

  Absolutely.

  And isn’t he moderate because of the friendly and harmonious relations between these same parts, namely, when the ruler and the ruled believe in common that the rational part should rule and don’t engage in civil [d] war against it?

  Moderation is surely nothing other than that, both in the city and in the individual.

  And, of course, a person will be just because of what we’ve so often mentioned, and in that way.

  Necessarily.

  Well, then, is the justice in us at all indistinct? Does it seem to be something different from what we found in the city?

  It doesn’t seem so to me.

  If there are still any doubts in our soul about this, we could dispel them [e] altogether by appealing to ordinary cases.

  Which ones?

  For example, if we had to come to an agreement about whether someone similar in nature and training to our city had embezzled a deposit of gold or silver that he had accepted, who do you think would consider him to [443] have done it rather than someone who isn’t like him?

  No one.

  And would he have anything to do with temple robberies, thefts, betrayals of friends in private life or of cities in public life?

  No, nothing.

  And he’d be in no way untrustworthy in keeping an oath or other agreement.

  How could he be?

  And adultery, disrespect for parents, and neglect of the gods would be more in keeping with every other kind of character than his.

  With every one.

  And isn’t the cause of all this that every part within him does its own [b] work, whether it’s ruling or being ruled?

  Yes, that and nothing else.

  Then, are you still looking for justice to be something other than this power, the one that produces men and cities of the sort we’ve described?

  No, I certainly am not.

  Then the dream we had has been completely fulfillled—our suspicion that, with the help of some god, we had hit upon the origin and pattern [c] of justice right at the beginning in founding our city.8

  Absolutely.

  Indeed, Glaucon, the principle that it is right for someone who is by nature a cobbler to practice cobblery and nothing else, for the carpenter to practice carpentry, and the same for the others is a sort of image of justice—that’s why it’s beneficial.

  Apparently.

  And in truth justice is, it seems, something of this sort. However, it isn’t concerned with someone’s doing his own externally, but with what is inside him, with what is truly himself and his own. One who is just does [d] not allow any part of himself to do the work of another part or allow the various classes within him to meddle with each other. He regulates well what is really his own and rules himself. He puts himself in order, is his own friend, and harmonizes the three parts of himself like three limiting notes in a musical scale—high, low, and middle. He binds together those parts and any others there may be in between, and from having been many things he becomes entirely one, moderate and harmonious. Only [e] then does he act. And when he does anything, whether acquiring wealth, taking care of his body, engaging in politics, or in private contracts—in all of these, he believes that the action is just and fine that preserves this inner harmony and helps achieve it, and calls it so, and regards as wisdom the knowledge that oversees such actions. And he believes that the action that destroys this harmony is unjust, and calls it so, and regards the belief that oversees it as ignorance. [444]

  That’s absolutely true, Socrates.

  Well, then, if we claim to have found the just man, the just city, and what the justice is that is in them, I don’t suppose that we’ll seem to be telling a complete falsehood.

  No, we certainly won’t.

  Shall we claim it, then?

  We shall.

  So be it. Now, I suppose we must look for injustice.

  Clearly.

  Surely, it must be a kind of civil war between the three parts, a meddling [b] and doing of another’s work, a rebellion by some part against the whole soul in order to rule it inappropriately. The rebellious part is by nature suited to be a slave, while the other part is not a slave but belongs to the ruling class. We’ll say something like that, I suppose, and that the turmoil and straying of these parts are injustice, licentiousness, cowardice, ignorance, and, in a word, the whole of vice.

  That’s what they are.

  So, if justice and injustice are really clear enough to us, then acting justly, acting unjustly, and doing injustice are also clear. [c]

  How so?

  Because just and unjust actions are no different for the soul than healthy and unhealthy things are for the body.

  In what way?

  Healthy things produce health, unhealthy ones disease.

  Yes.

  And don’t just actions produce justice in the soul and unjust ones injustice? [d]

  Necessarily.

  To produce health is to establish the components of the body in a natural relation of control and being controlled, one by another, while to produce disease is to establish a relation of ruling and being ruled contrary to nature.

  That’s right.

  Then, isn’t to produce justice to establish the parts of the soul in a natural relation of control, one by another, while to produce injustice is to establish a relation of ruling and being ruled contrary to nature?

  Precisely.

  Virtue seems, then, to be a kind of health, fine condition, and well-being [e] of the soul, while vice is disease, shameful condition, and weakness.

  That’s true.

  And don’t fine ways of living lead one to the possession of virtue, shameful ones to vice?

  Necessarily.

  So it now remains, it seems, to inquire whether it is more profitable to [445] act justly, live in a fine way, and be just, whether one is known to be so or not, or to act unjustly and be unjust, provided that one doesn’t pay the penalty and become better as a result of punishment.

  But, Socrates, this inquiry looks ridiculous to me now that justice and injustice have been shown to be as we have described. Even if one has every kind of food and drink, lots of money, and every sort of power to rule, life is thought to be not worth living when the body’s nature is ruined. [b] So even if someone can do whatever he wishes, except what will free him from vice and injustice and make him acquire justice and virtue, how can it be worth living when his soul—the very thing by which he lives—is ruined and in turmoil?

  Yes, it is ridiculous. Nevertheless, now that we’ve come far enough to be able to see most clearly that this is so, we mustn’t give up.

  That’s absolutely the last thing we must do.

  [c] T
hen come here, so that you can see how many forms of vice there are, anyhow that I consider worthy of examination.

  I’m following you, just tell me.

  Well, from the vantage point we’ve reached in our argument, it seems to me that there is one form of virtue and an unlimited number of forms of vice, four of which are worth mentioning.

  How do you mean?

  It seems likely that there are as many types of soul as there are specific types of political constitution.

  How many is that?

  [d] Five forms of constitution and five of souls.

  What are they?

  One is the constitution we’ve been describing. And it has two names. If one outstanding man emerges among the rulers, it’s called a kingship; if more than one, it’s called an aristocracy.

  That’s true.

  Therefore, I say that this is one form of constitution. Whether one man emerges or many, none of the significant laws of the city would be changed, if they followed the upbringing and education we described. [e]

  Probably not.

  1. This discussion is announced at 445c, but doesn’t begin until Book VIII.

  2. Odyssey i.351–52, slightly altered.

  3. The Hydra was a mythical monster. When one of its heads was cut off, two or three new heads grew in its place. Heracles had to slay the Hydra as one of his labors.

  4. I.e., on the rock in the sanctuary at Delphi, which was believed to be the navel or center of the earth.

  5. The Greek term is sōphrosunē. It has a very wide meaning: self-control, good sense, reasonableness, temperance, and (in some contexts) chastity. Someone who keeps his head under pressure or temptation possesses sōphrosunē.

  6. See 368c ff.

  7. See 390d, and note.

  8. See 432c–433b.

  Book V

  This is the kind of city and constitution, then, that I call good and correct, [449] and so too is this kind of man. And if indeed this is the correct kind, all the others—whether as city governments or as organizations of the individual soul—are bad and mistaken. Their badness is of four kinds.

  What are they? he said.

  I was going to enumerate them and explain how I thought they developed out of one another,1 but Polemarchus, who was sitting a little further away than Adeimantus, extended his hand and took hold of the latter’s [b] cloak by the shoulder from above. He drew Adeimantus towards him, while he himself leaned forward and said something to him. We overheard nothing of what he said except the words “Shall we let it go, or what?”

  We certainly won’t let it go, Adeimantus said, now speaking aloud.

  And I asked: What is it that you won’t let go?

  You, he said.

  For what reason in particular? [c]

  We think that you’re slacking off and that you’ve cheated us out of a whole important section of the discussion in order to avoid having to deal with it. You thought we wouldn’t notice when you said—as though it were something trivial—that, as regards wives and children, anyone could see that the possessions of friends should be held in common.2 But isn’t that right, Adeimantus?

  Yes it is. But this “right,” like the other things we’ve discussed, requires an explanation—in this case, an explanation of the manner in which they are to be held in common, for there may be many ways of doing this. So don’t omit telling us about the particular one you mean. We’ve been [d] waiting for some time, indeed, for you to tell us about the production of children—how they’ll be produced and, once born, how they’ll be brought up—and about the whole subject of having wives and children in common. We think that this makes a considerable difference—indeed all the difference—to whether a constitution is correct or not. So now, since you are beginning to describe another constitution before having adequately discussed these things, we are resolved, as you overheard, not to let you [450] off until you explain all this as fully as the rest.

  Include me, Glaucon said, as a partner in this resolution.

  In fact, Socrates, Thrasymachus added, you can take this as the resolution of all of us.

  What a thing you’ve done, I said, in stopping me! What an argument you’ve started up again from the very beginning, as it were, about the constitution! I was delighted to think that it had already been described and was content to have these things accepted as they were stated before. You don’t realize what a swarm of arguments you’ve stirred up by calling [b] me to account now. I saw the swarm and passed the topic by in order to save us a lot of trouble.

  Well, said Thrasymachus, are we here to search for gold3 or to listen to an argument?

  The latter, I said, but within reason.

  It’s within reason, Socrates, Glaucon said, for people with any understanding to listen to an argument of this kind their whole life long. So don’t mind about us, and don’t get tired yourself. Rather, tell us at length what your thoughts are on the topic we inquired about, namely, what the [c] common possession of wives and children will amount to for the guardians and how the children will be brought up while they’re still small, for the time between birth and the beginning of education seems to be the most difficult period of all. So try to tell us what the manner of this upbringing must be.

  It isn’t an easy subject to explain, for it raises even more incredulity than the topics we’ve discussed so far. People may not believe that what we say is possible or that, even if it could be brought about, it would be for the best. It’s for this reason that I hesitated to bring it up, namely, that [d] our argument might seem to be no more than wishful thinking.

  Then don’t hesitate, for your audience isn’t inconsiderate, incredulous, or hostile.

  Are you trying to encourage me by saying that?

  I am.

  Well, you’re doing the opposite. Your encouragement would be fine, if I could be sure I was speaking with knowledge, for one can feel both secure and confident when one knows the truth about the dearest and most important things and speaks about them among those who are themselves [e] wise and dear friends. But to speak, as I’m doing, at a time when one is unsure of oneself and searching for the truth, is a frightening and [451] insecure thing to do. I’m not afraid of being laughed at—that would be childish indeed. But I am afraid that, if I slip from the truth, just where it’s most important not to, I’ll not only fall myself but drag my friends down as well. So I bow to Adrastea4 for what I’m going to say, for I suspect that it’s a lesser crime to kill someone involuntarily than to mislead people about fine, good, and just institutions. Since it’s better to run this risk among enemies than among friends, you’ve well and truly encouraged me! [b]

  Glaucon laughed and said: Well, Socrates, if we suffer from any false note you strike in the argument, we’ll release you and absolve you of any guilt as in a homicide case: your hands are clean, and you have not deceived us. So take courage and speak.

  I will, for the law says that someone who kills involuntarily is free of guilt when he’s absolved by the injured party. So it’s surely reasonable to think the same is true in my case as well.

  With that as your defense, speak.

  Then I’ll have to go back to what should perhaps have been said in [c] sequence, although it may be that this way of doing things is in fact right and that after the completion of the male drama, so to speak, we should then go through the female one—especially as you insist on it so urgently.

  For men born and educated as we’ve described there is, in my opinion, no right way to acquire and use women and children other than by following the road on which we started them. We attempted, in the argument, to set up the men as guardians of the herd.

  Yes.

  Then let’s give them a birth and rearing consistent with that and see [d] whether it suits us or not.

  How?

  As follows: Do we think that the wives of our guardian watchdogs should guard what the males guard, hunt with them, and do everything else in common with them? Or should we keep the women at home, as inca
pable of doing this, since they must bear and rear the puppies, while the males work and have the entire care of the flock?

  Everything should be in common, except that the females are weaker [e] and the males stronger.

  And is it possible to use any animals for the same things if you don’t give them the same upbringing and education?

  No, it isn’t.

  Therefore, if we use the women for the same things as the men, they must also be taught the same things.

  Yes. [452]

  Now, we gave the men music and poetry and physical training.

  Yes.

  Then we must give these two crafts, as well as those having to do with warfare, to the women also to use in the same way as the men use them.

  That seems to follow from what you say.

  But perhaps much of what we are saying, since it is contrary to custom, would incite ridicule if it were carried out in practice as we’ve described.

  It certainly would.

  What is the most ridiculous thing that you see in it? Isn’t it obviously the women exercising naked in the palestras with the men? And not just the young women, but the older ones too—like old men in gymnasiums [b] who, even though their bodies are wrinkled and not pleasant to look at, still love to do physical training.

  Yes, that would look really ridiculous as things stand at present.

  But surely, now that we’ve started to speak about this, we mustn’t fear the various jokes that wits will make about this kind of change in music and poetry, physical training, and—last but not least—in bearing arms [c] and riding horses.

  You’re right.

  And now that we’ve begun to speak about this, we must move on to the tougher part of the law, begging these people not to be silly (though that is their own work!) but to take the matter seriously. They should remember that it wasn’t very long ago that the Greeks themselves thought it shameful and ridiculous (as the majority of the barbarians still do) for even men to be seen naked and that when the Cretans and then the Lacedaemonians began the gymnasiums, the wits of those times could [d] also have ridiculed it all. Or don’t you think so?

  I do.

  But I think that, after it was found in practice to be better to strip than to cover up all those parts, then what was ridiculous to the eyes faded away in the face of what argument showed to be the best. This makes it clear that it’s foolish to think that anything besides the bad is ridiculous or to try to raise a laugh at the sight of anything besides what’s stupid or [e] bad or (putting it the other way around) it’s foolish to take seriously any standard of what is fine and beautiful other than the good.