Complete Works

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

And haven’t you also heard those who are in great pain say that nothing is more pleasant than the cessation of their suffering?

  I have.

  And there are many similar circumstances, I suppose, in which you find people in pain praising, not enjoyment, but the absence of pain and relief from it as most pleasant.

  That may be because at such times a state of calm becomes pleasant enough to content them.

  And when someone ceases to feel pleasure, this calm will be painful [e] to him.

  Probably so.

  Then the calm we described as being intermediate between pleasure and pain will sometimes be both.

  So it seems.

  Now, is it possible for that which is neither to become both?

  Not in my view.

  Moreover, the coming to be of either the pleasant or the painful in the soul is a sort of motion, isn’t it?

  Yes.

  And didn’t what is neither painful nor pleasant come to light just now as a calm state, intermediate between them? [584]

  Yes, it did.

  Then, how can it be right to think that the absence of pain is pleasure or that the absence of pleasure is pain?

  There’s no way it can be.

  Then it isn’t right. But when the calm is next to the painful it appears pleasant, and when it is next to the pleasant it appears painful. However, there is nothing sound in these appearances as far as the truth about pleasure is concerned, only some kind of magic.

  That’s what the argument suggests, at any rate.

  [b] Take a look at the pleasures that don’t come out of pains, so that you won’t suppose in their case also that it is the nature of pleasure to be the cessation of pain or of pain to be the cessation of pleasure.

  Where am I to look? What pleasures do you mean?

  The pleasures of smell are especially good examples to take note of, for they suddenly become very intense without being preceded by pain, and when they cease they leave no pain behind. But there are plenty of other examples as well.

  That’s absolutely true.

  Then let no one persuade us that pure pleasure is relief from pain or [c] that pure pain is relief from pleasure.

  No, let’s not.

  However, most of the so-called pleasures that reach the soul through the body, as well as the most intense ones, are of this form—they are some kind of relief from pain.

  Yes, they are.

  And aren’t the pleasures and pains of anticipation, which arise from the expectation of future pleasures or pains, also of this form?

  They are.

  [d] Do you know what kind of thing they are and what they most resemble?

  No, what is it?

  Do you believe that there is an up, a down, and a middle in nature?

  I do.

  And do you think that someone who was brought from down below to the middle would have any other belief than that he was moving upward?

  And if he stood in the middle and saw where he had come from, would he believe that he was anywhere other than the upper region, since he hasn’t seen the one that is truly upper?

  By god, I don’t see how he could think anything else.

  And if he was brought back, wouldn’t he suppose that he was being [e] brought down? And wouldn’t he be right?

  Of course.

  Then wouldn’t all this happen to him because he is inexperienced in what is really and truly up, down, and in the middle?

  Clearly.

  Is it any surprise, then, if those who are inexperienced in the truth have unsound opinions about lots of other things as well, or that they are so disposed to pleasure, pain, and the intermediate state that, when they descend to the painful, they believe truly and are really in pain, but that, [585] when they ascend from the painful to the intermediate state, they firmly believe that they have reached fulfillment and pleasure? They are inexperienced in pleasure and so are deceived when they compare pain to painlessness, just as they would be if they compared black to gray without having experienced white.

  No, by god, I wouldn’t be surprised. In fact, I’d be very surprised if it were any other way.

  Think of it this way: Aren’t hunger, thirst, and the like some sort of [b] empty states of the body?

  They are.

  And aren’t ignorance and lack of sense empty states of the soul?

  Of course.

  And wouldn’t someone who partakes of nourishment or strengthens his understanding be filled?

  Certainly.

  Does the truer filling up fill you with that which is less or that which is more?

  Clearly, it’s with that which is more.

  And which kinds partake more of pure being? Kinds of filling up such as filling up with bread or drink or delicacies or food in general? Or the kind of filling up that is with true belief, knowledge, understanding, and, in sum, with all of virtue? Judge it this way: That which is related to what is always the same, immortal, and true, is itself of that kind, and comes [c] to be in something of that kind—this is more, don’t you think, than that which is related to what is never the same and mortal, is itself of that kind, and comes to be in something of that kind?

  That which is related to what is always the same is far more.

  And does the being of what is always the same participate more in being than in knowledge?

  Not at all.

  Or more than in truth?

  Not that either.

  And if less in truth, then less in being also?

  Necessarily.

  And isn’t it generally true that the kinds of filling up that are concerned with the care of the body share less in truth and being than those concerned [d] with the care of the soul?

  Yes, much less.

  And don’t you think that the same holds of the body in comparison to the soul?

  Certainly.

  And isn’t that which is more, and is filled with things that are more, really more filled than that which is less, and is filled with things that are less?

  Of course.

  Therefore, if being filled with what is appropriate to our nature is pleasure, that which is more filled with things that are more enjoys more really [e] and truly a more true pleasure, while that which partakes of things that are less is less truly and surely filled and partakes of a less trustworthy and less true pleasure.

  That’s absolutely inevitable.

  Therefore, those who have no experience of reason or virtue, but are [586] always occupied with feasts and the like, are brought down and then back up to the middle, as it seems, and wander in this way throughout their lives, never reaching beyond this to what is truly higher up, never looking up at it or being brought up to it, and so they aren’t filled with that which really is and never taste any stable or pure pleasure. Instead, they always look down at the ground like cattle, and, with their heads bent over the dinner table, they feed, fatten, and fornicate. To outdo others in these [b] things, they kick and butt them with iron horns and hooves, killing each other, because their desires are insatiable. For the part that they’re trying to fill is like a vessel full of holes, and neither it nor the things they are trying to fill it with are among the things that are.

  Socrates, you’ve exactly described the life of the majority of people, just like an oracle.

  Then isn’t it necessary for these people to live with pleasures that are mixed with pains, mere images and shadow-paintings of true pleasures?

  And doesn’t the juxtaposition of these pleasures and pains make them [c] appear intense, so that they give rise to mad erotic passions in the foolish, and are fought over in just the way that Stesichorus tells us the phantom of Helen was fought over at Troy by men ignorant of the truth?

  Something like that must be what happens.

  And what about the spirited part? Mustn’t similar things happen to someone who satisfies it? Doesn’t his love of honor make him envious and his love of victory make him violent, so that he pursues the satisfaction [d] of his anger and of
his desires for honors and victories without calculation or understanding?

  Such things must happen to him as well.

  Then can’t we confidently assert that those desires of even the money-loving and honor-loving parts that follow knowledge and argument and pursue with their help those pleasures that reason approves will attain the truest pleasures possible for them, because they follow truth, and the [e] ones that are most their own, if indeed what is best for each thing is most its own?

  And indeed it is best.

  Therefore, when the entire soul follows the philosophic part, and there is no civil war in it, each part of it does its own work exclusively and is just, and in particular it enjoys its own pleasures, the best and truest [587] pleasures possible for it.

  Absolutely.

  But when one of the other parts gains control, it won’t be able to secure its own pleasure and will compel the other parts to pursue an alien and untrue pleasure.

  That’s right.

  And aren’t the parts that are most distant from philosophy and reason the ones most likely to do this sort of compelling?

  They’re much more likely.

  And isn’t whatever is most distant from reason also most distant from law and order?

  Clearly.

  And didn’t the erotic and tyrannical desires emerge as most distant from these things? [b]

  By far.

  And weren’t the kingly and orderly ones least distant?

  Yes.

  Then I suppose that a tyrant will be most distant from a pleasure that is both true and his own and that a king will be least distant.

  Necessarily.

  So a tyrant will live most unpleasantly, and a king most pleasantly.

  Necessarily.

  Do you know how much more unpleasant a tyrant’s life is than a king’s?

  I will if you tell me.

  There are, it seems, three pleasures, one genuine and two illegitimate, and a tyrant is at the extreme end of the illegitimate ones, since he flees both law and reason and lives with a bodyguard of certain slavish pleasures. But [c] it isn’t easy, all the same, to say just how inferior he is to a king, except perhaps as follows. A tyrant is somehow third from an oligarch, for a democrat was between them.

  Yes.

  Then, if what we said before is true, doesn’t he live with an image of pleasure that is third from an oligarch’s with respect to truth?2 He does.

  Now, an oligarch, in turn, is third from a king, if we identify a king and an aristocrat. [d]

  Yes, he’s third.

  So a tyrant is three times three times removed from true pleasure.

  Apparently so.

  It seems then, on the basis of the magnitude of its number, that the image of tyrannical pleasure is a plane figure.

  Exactly.

  But then it’s clear that, by squaring and cubing it, we’ll discover how far a tyrant’s pleasure is from that of a king.

  It is clear to a mathematician, at any rate.

  Then, turning it the other way around, if someone wants to say how far a king’s pleasure is from a tyrant’s, he’ll find, if he completes the calculation, that a king lives seven hundred and twenty-nine times more [e] pleasantly than a tyrant and that a tyrant is the same number of times more wretched.

  That’s an amazing calculation of the difference between the pleasure [588] and pain of the two men, the just and the unjust.

  Yet it’s a true one, and one appropriate to human lives, if indeed days, nights, months, and years are appropriate to them.

  And of course they are appropriate.

  Then, if a good and just person’s life is that much more pleasant than the life of a bad and unjust person, won’t its grace, fineness, and virtue be incalculably greater?

  By god, it certainly will.

  [b] All right, then. Since we’ve reached this point in the argument, let’s return to the first things we said, since they are what led us here. I think someone said at some point that injustice profits a completely unjust person who is believed to be just. Isn’t that so?

  It certainly is.

  Now, let’s discuss this with him, since we’ve agreed on the respective powers that injustice and justice have.

  How?

  By fashioning an image of the soul in words, so that the person who says this sort of thing will know what he is saying.

  [c] What sort of image?

  One like those creatures that legends tell us used to come into being in ancient times, such as the Chimera, Scylla, Cerberus, or any of the multitude of others in which many different kinds of things are said to have grown together naturally into one.

  Yes, the legends do tell us of such things.

  Well, then, fashion a single kind of multicolored beast with a ring of many heads that it can grow and change at will—some from gentle, some from savage animals.

  [d] That’s work for a clever artist. However, since words are more malleable than wax and the like, consider it done.

  Then fashion one other kind, that of a lion, and another of a human being. But make the first much the largest and the other second to it in size.

  That’s easier—the sculpting is done.

  Now join the three of them into one, so that they somehow grow together naturally.

  They’re joined.

  Then, fashion around them the image of one of them, that of a human being so that anyone who sees only the outer covering and not what’s [e] inside will think it is a single creature, a human being.

  It’s done.

  Then, if someone maintains that injustice profits this human being and that doing just things brings no advantage, let’s tell him that he is simply saying that it is beneficial for him, first, to feed the multiform beast well and make it strong, and also the lion and all that pertains to him; second, to starve and weaken the human being within, so that he is dragged along [589] wherever either of the other two leads; and, third, to leave the parts to bite and kill one another rather than accustoming them to each other and making them friendly.

  Yes, that’s absolutely what someone who praises injustice is saying.

  But, on the other hand, wouldn’t someone who maintains that just things are profitable be saying, first, that all our words and deeds should insure that the human being within this human being has the most control; second, that he should take care of the many-headed beast as a farmer does his [b] animals, feeding and domesticating the gentle heads and preventing the savage ones from growing; and, third, that he should make the lion’s nature his ally, care for the community of all his parts, and bring them up in such a way that they will be friends with each other and with himself?

  Yes, that’s exactly what someone who praises justice is saying.

  From every point of view, then, anyone who praises justice speaks truly, and anyone who praises injustice speaks falsely. Whether we look at the matter from the point of view of pleasure, good reputation, or advantage, a praiser of justice tells the truth, while one who condemns it has nothing [c] sound to say and condemns without knowing what he is condemning.

  In my opinion, at least, he knows nothing about it.

  Then let’s persuade him gently—for he isn’t wrong of his own will—by asking him these questions. Should we say that this is the original basis for the conventions about what is fine and what is shameful? Fine things are those that subordinate the beastlike parts of our nature to the human—or better, perhaps, to the divine; shameful ones are those that enslave the [d] gentle to the savage? Will he agree or what?

  He will, if he takes my advice.

  In light of this argument, can it profit anyone to acquire gold unjustly if, by doing so, he enslaves the best part of himself to the most vicious? If he got the gold by enslaving his son or daughter to savage and evil men, it wouldn’t profit him, no matter how much gold he got. How, then, [e] could he fail to be wretched if he pitilessly enslaves the most divine part of himself to the most godless and polluted one and accepts golden gifts
in return for a more terrible destruction than Eriphyle’s when she took [590] the necklace in return for her husband’s soul?3

  A much more terrible one, Glaucon said. I’ll answer for him.

  And don’t you think that licentiousness has long been condemned for just these reasons, namely, that because of it, that terrible, large, and multiform beast is let loose more than it should be?

  Clearly.

  And aren’t stubbornness and irritability condemned because they inharmoniously increase and stretch the lionlike and snakelike part? [b]

  Certainly.

  And aren’t luxury and softness condemned because the slackening and loosening of this same part produce cowardice in it?

  Of course.

  And aren’t flattery and slavishness condemned because they subject the spirited part to the moblike beast, accustoming it from youth on to being insulted for the sake of the money needed to satisfy the beast’s insatiable appetites, so that it becomes an ape instead of a lion?

  [c] They certainly are.

  Why do you think that the condition of a manual worker is despised?

  Or is it for any other reason than that, when the best part is naturally weak in someone, it can’t rule the beasts within him but can only serve them and learn to flatter them?

  Probably so.

  Therefore, to insure that someone like that is ruled by something similar to what rules the best person, we say that he ought to be the slave of that best person who has a divine ruler within himself. It isn’t to harm the [d] slave that we say he must be ruled, which is what Thrasymachus thought to be true of all subjects, but because it is better for everyone to be ruled by divine reason, preferably within himself and his own, otherwise imposed from without, so that as far as possible all will be alike and friends, governed by the same thing.

  Yes, that’s right.

  This is clearly the aim of the law, which is the ally of everyone. But it’s also our aim in ruling our children, we don’t allow them to be free until we establish a constitution in them, just as in a city, and—by fostering their best part with our own—equip them with a guardian and ruler similar [591] to our own to take our place. Then, and only then, we set them free.

  Clearly so.

  Then how can we maintain or argue, Glaucon, that injustice, licentiousness, and doing shameful things are profitable to anyone, since, even though he may acquire more money or other sort of power from them, they make him more vicious?