The works of Plato · Plato
ARGUMENT.
Footnote 75: That the gods exercise no care over human affairs was a favourite doctrine of the sophists, and especially of Protagoras. Comp. Theæt. p. 162, d. with Cicero de Nat. Deor. i. ch. 23. See also De Legg. p. 885, d. e.—ἡμῶν μὲν γὰρ οἱ μὲν τὸ παράπαν θεοὺς οὐδαμῶς νομίζουσιν, οἱ δὲ μηδὲν ἡμῶν φροντίζειν, οἱ δὲ εὐχαῖς παράγεσθαι ... νῦν μὲν γὰρ ταῦτα ἀκούοντές τε καὶ τοιαῦθ’ ἕτερα τῶν λεγομένων ἀρίστων εἶναι ποιητῶν τε καὶ ῥητόρων καὶ μαντέων καὶ ἱερέων καὶ ἄλλων πολλακισμυρίων, οὐκ ἐπὶ τὸ μὴ δρᾷν τὰ ἄδικα τρεπόμεθα οἱ πλεῖστοι, δράσαντες δὲ ἐξακεῖσθαι πειρώμεθα. ----- CHAP. IX.—For what reason, then, should we prefer justice before the greatest injustice?—Should we acquire it by any unfair pretences, we shall, both with reference to gods and men, fare according to our wishes both in life and death, as we are told by the sayings both of the multitude and the learned too.—From all that has been said, then, Socrates, how shall a man contrive to acquire a will for honouring justice, who has any power of mind, or wealth, or body, or birth, and not rather laugh at hearing its praises? Although, therefore, a man be able even to show what we have said to be false, and fully knows that justice is best, he will, perhaps, greatly excuse and not be angry with the unjust, because he knows, that unless a man through a divine instinct abhor injustice, or from knowledge abstain from it,—of all the rest not one is willingly just, but either through cowardice, old age, or some other weakness, condemns injustice, when unable to do it. That it is so, is plain;—for the first of such persons, who arrives at the power, is the first to commit injustice, as far as he is able.
The reason of all this, again, is no other than that, from whence all this discussion set out between my brother and me and you, Socrates, because, among all of you, my wonderful man, who call yourselves the eulogists of justice, from these ancient heroes downwards, of all whose arguments are left to the men of the present time, no one has ever yet condemned injustice, nor praised justice, otherwise than as respects the repute, honours, and emoluments arising therefrom; while, as respects either of them in itself, and subsisting by its own power in the soul of the possessor, and concealed both from gods and men, no one has yet sufficiently investigated, either in poetry or prose-writing,—how, namely, that the one is the greatest of all the evils that the soul has within it, and justice the greatest good: for had it from the beginning been thus stated by you all, and you had so persuaded us from our youth, we should not need to guard against injustice from our fellows, but every man would be the best guardian over himself, through fear, lest by doing injustice he should dwell with the greatest evil.
These things, Socrates, and, perhaps also, yet more than these, Thrasymachus, and others too, might say respecting justice and injustice, perverting their power, disagreeably as I conceive:[76]—but, I, for I wish to conceal nothing from you, am very anxious to hear your refutation, and so say the most I can by way of opposition.—Do not, therefore, merely show us in your reasoning, that justice is better than injustice, but in what way each by itself affects the mind, the one as in itself evil, and the other as good; and put out of the question mere opinion, as Glaucon recommended; for if you do not set aside the true opinions on both sides, and add those that are false, we will say you do not praise justice, but its appearance, and do not condemn injustice, but its appearance,—advising the unjust man to hide himself, and agreeing with Thrasymachus that justice is a foreign good expedient for the more powerful, while injustice is what is expedient and profitable for one’s self, but inexpedient for the inferior.
Since, then, you have granted that justice is one of those greatest goods, which on account of their results are worthy to be possessed, but yet far more in themselves for their own sake,—such as sight, hearing, wisdom, health, and all other genuine goods, such as are so in their own nature, and not merely in opinion; for this very reason we may praise justice, as intrinsically, in itself, profitable to its owner, and injustice harmful; but as for rewards and repute, let others sing their praises.—I could endure, perhaps, that the rest of the world should thus praise justice and condemn injustice, complimenting and reviling the opinions and rewards that concern them; but certainly [I could not endure] it in you (except you absolutely require it), because you have passed the whole of life, engaged in no other inquiry but this.—Show us, then, in course of the discussion, not only that justice is better than injustice, but also what either intrinsically by itself makes its owner, whether concealed or not from gods and men, the one being good, and the other evil. ----- Footnote 76: φορτικῶς, ὥς γ’ ἐμοὶ δοκεῖ. ----- CHAP. X.—On hearing this, pleased, as I always am, with the disposition of Glaucon and Adimantus, I was then, in particular, perfectly delighted, and replied: O sons of that worthy sire [the Sophist,[77]] with good reason does the lover of Glaucon thus begin his elegies [which he made] on you, when you distinguished yourselves in the battle of Megara.[78]
Ariston’s sons! of sire renown’d afar, That race divine.... ----- Footnote 77: The phrase ἐκείνου τοῦ ἀνδρός does not refer to their father Cephalus, but to some sophist of whom they were the disciples, and whose dogmas they defended. The words are similarly used in the Philebus. Comp. also παῖδες ζωγράφων in Legg. vi. p. 769, b. Footnote 78: A battle fought near Megara between the Athenians and Corinthians, in which the former were victors; Ol. 80, 4 (B.C. 453). Comp. Thuc. i. 105; Diod. Sic. xi. 79. ----- This, friends, seems well observed; for you must be under some influence quite divine, if you are not persuaded that injustice is better than justice, when you can thus speak in its defence. Still methinks, you are not really persuaded; and I reason from the rest of your behaviour; because, according to your mode of talking, I should certainly have disbelieved you:—but the more I trust you, the more I am at a loss, as to the kind of argument I should use. I know not, indeed, how I am to defend it,—as I seem unable:—and the proof of it is, that, as respects what I thought I had clearly shown in arguing with Thrasymachus, that justice is better than injustice, you did not admit my proofs;—nor, on the other hand, have I any excuse for not defending it; because I fear it may be impious to abandon justice, and see it accused when I am present, without defending it, so long as I have breath and am able to speak. It is best then to assist it in such a manner as I can.
Hereupon Glaucon and the rest entreated me by all means to defend it, and not relinquish the discussion, but rather investigate thoroughly the nature of each, and what the truth is, as to their respective advantages. I then stated what I thought,—that the inquiry we were attempting was no trifling one, but one, as appears to me, suited for sharp-sighted persons. Since then, said I, we are not very expert, it seems proper to make such an investigation of it, as if a person should order persons not very sharp-sighted to read small letters at a distance, and then find out that the same letters are rather larger elsewhere, and in a larger field;—it would then appear desirable, methinks, first to read these, and then examine the lesser, whether they happen to be the same. By all means, said Adimantus. But what analogy do you perceive, Socrates, in the inquiry about justice? I will tell you, said I:—do we not say that justice affects an individual man and an entire state also? Certainly, replied he. Is not a state a greater object than an individual? Greater, said he.
Perhaps, then, justice will be more fully developed in what is greater, and also more easily intelligible:—we will first, then, if you please, inquire what it is in states; and then, we will in like manner examine it in the individual, searching for the similitude of the greater in the idea of the less. Yes,—you seem to me, said he, to speak rightly. If then, said I, we contemplate in argument the rise of a state, shall we not also perceive the rise of justice and injustice? Perhaps so, said he. Well then, if this be the case, is there no ground for hoping that we shall more easily find the object of our inquiry? Just so. Does it not seem, then, that we ought to try after success? for I imagine this is a work of no small importance. Consider then. We have considered, said Adimantus, and do you the same.
CHAP. XI.—A state then, said I, takes its rise, methinks,—because none of us individually happens to be self-sufficient, but stands in need of many things; do you think that there is any other origin of the settlement of a state?[79] None, said he. Thus, then, one assisting one person for the want of one thing, and another another for the want of another, as we stand in need of many things, we collect into one dwelling many companions and assistants, and to this joint dwelling we give the name of city; do we not? Certainly. One then imparts to another, if he does impart anything, or receives in exchange, thinking it will be for his advantage? Certainly. Come then, said I, let us, for argument’s sake, form a city from the beginning;—our necessity, as it seems, will form it? Of course. But the first and the greatest of wants is the provision of food, in order that we may subsist and live? Assuredly. The second is of lodging, the third of clothing, and the like? Just so.
But come, said I, how will the city be able to make so great a provision?—Shall not one be a husbandman, another a builder, a third a weaver;—and must we not add to them a shoemaker, or some one else of those that minister to our bodily wants? Certainly. The state then, that is most in need, will consist of only four or five men?[80] It appears so. What then? must each of these contribute his work for the whole in common?—as, for instance, must the husbandman, though only one, provide food for four, and spend fourfold time and labour in providing food and sharing it with others; or is he, without any care for them, to prepare for himself alone the fourth part of this food in the fourth part of the time, while of the other three parts of his time, he employs one in the providing a house, another clothing, the other shoes,—and not trouble himself to share with others, but give his whole attention to his own affairs? And Adimantus said—Aye, but perhaps the former way, Socrates, is easier than the latter.
By Zeus, that is not amiss, said I:—for, while you are speaking, I am thinking that first of all we are born not each perfectly alike to each, but differing in disposition,—one fitted for doing one thing, and another for another;—does it not seem so to you? It does. What then?—Will a man do better, when, as a single individual, he works in many arts, or only in one? When one works in one, said he. This, moreover, is also plain, methinks;—that if one miss the seasonable time for any work, it is ruined? Clearly. Aye,—for the work, methinks, will not wait on the leisure of the workman, but the workman must necessarily attend closely on his work, not in the way of a by-job? He must. And hence more will be done, and better, and with greater ease, when every one does but one thing, according to his genius, at the proper time, and when at leisure from all other pursuits. Quite so, said he.
Surely, Adimantus, we need more citizens than four for the provisions that we mentioned: for the husbandman, it seems, will not himself make his own plough, if it is to be good, nor yet a spade or any other instruments of agriculture:—neither, again, will the builder,—for he, likewise, needs many things; and in the same way, the weaver also and the shoemaker:—is it not so? True. Carpenters, then, and smiths, and many other such workmen, by becoming members of our little city, make it throng? Certainly. Yet it would be no very great matter, either, if we added to them herdsmen also, and shepherds, and all other sorts of graziers,—in order that both the husbandmen may have oxen for ploughing, and the builders by aid of the husbandmen may have cattle for their carriages, and the weavers also, and shoemakers, hides and wool. Yet it would be no very small city, said he, that had all these. Moreover, said I, it is all but impossible to settle the city itself in such a place that it will not require imported goods. Impossible. Surely, then, it will require others in addition, to bring to it what it needs from other cities. It will require them.
CHAP. XII.—What then;—in the city itself, how will they exchange with one another what each has produced, for the sake of which, we have formed a city and established a community? It is plain, said he, that by selling and buying [they will do so]. A market-place, therefore, and an established coinage, as a symbol for the purposes of exchange, must spring up from hence. Certainly. If then the husbandman, or any other workman, bring any of his work to the market, but does not come at the same time as those who want to make exchanges with him, will he not, while sitting in the market, be unoccupied at his trade? By no means, said he; for there are some, who, observing this, devote themselves to this service; and, in well-regulated cities, they are chiefly such, as are weakest in body and unfit for any other work;—these then should attend about the market, to give money in exchange for what people wish to sell, and goods in exchange for money to such as want to buy.
It is this want, said I, that provides our city with a race of shopkeepers; for do we not call those shopkeepers, who sit in the market, and serve both in selling and buying; whereas such as travel to other cities we call merchants? Certainly. There are certain other servants still, I conceive, who, though as regards intellectual power unworthy to be taken into society, yet possess bodily strength adequate for labour; and these selling the use of their strength, and calling the reward of it hire, are called, I think, hired labourers;—are they not? Just so. Hired labourers then, as it seems, form the complement of a city. Aye, it seems so. Has our city then, Adimantus, so increased on us already, as to be complete? Perhaps. Where, then, will justice and injustice be placed in it; and, in which of the matters that we have considered is it engendered? I do not know, said he, Socrates, unless it be somehow in a certain use of these very things with one another. Perhaps, said I, you are right:—but yet we must consider the point, and not avoid it. First, then, let us consider how the persons thus procured are to be supported.—In making bread and wine, and clothes, and shoes, and building houses, will they not work in summer, chiefly without clothes and shoes, but in winter, sufficiently clad and shod? and will they be supported partly on barley made into meal, and partly on wheat made into loaves, partly boiled and partly toasted, with fine loaves and cakes placed over a fire of stubble or dried leaves, and will they feast, they and their children, resting on couches strewed with smilax and myrtle-leaves,—drinking wine, crowned, and singing to the gods, pleasantly living together, begetting children not beyond their means, and cautiously guarding against poverty or war?
CHAP. XIII.—Glaucon then, in answer, said: You make the men feast, it seems, without esculents.[81] You say true, said I: I forgot that they were to have esculents too;—and they will clearly have salt, and olives, and cheese, and will boil bulbous roots, and potherbs, such as are cooked in the fields: and we will set before them desserts of figs, peas, and beans; and they will toast at the fire myrtle-berries and beech-nuts, drinking in moderation; and thus passing their life in peace healthily, they will die in old age, probably, and leave a similar mode of life to their children. Socrates, said he, if you had been making a city of hogs, on what else but these would you have fed them? But what ought we to do then, Glaucon? said I. What is usual, said he: let them lie down on beds, I think, unless they are to live miserably, and take their meals from tables, and have esculents, as the present men have, and desserts. Be it so, said I:—I understand. We are considering, it seems, not only how a city, but how a luxurious city may exist; and perhaps it is not amiss: for, in considering one of this character, we may probably see how justice and injustice arise in cities.
CHAP. XIV.—Must we not, then, increase the size of our city?—For that healthy one is no longer sufficient, but already full of repletion and abundance of such things as are in nowise requisite for cities,—such as all kinds of sportsmen, and imitative artists, many of whom imitate in figures and colours, and many in music: poets too, and their assistants, rhapsodists, actors, dancers, contractors,[82] and manufacturers of all sorts of trinkets, especially of those belonging to female attire; and in that case, too, we shall require many more servants; and think you not they will require teachers, nurses, tutors, hair-dressers, barbers, confectioners, too, and cooks? Aye, and further still, we shall want swine-herds. Of these, indeed, there were none in the other state (for there needed none); but in this we shall need these also; and shall require, too, many other sorts of cattle, if any one eats them; shall we not? Of course. Shall we not, then, in this mode of life, require physicians far more than in the former one? Much more. ----- Footnote 82: Gr. ἐργολάβοι, i. e. persons undertaking for a certain sum to complete a house or any other given task. ----- And the land, perhaps, which at first sufficed to support the inhabitants, will, instead of being sufficient, become too little; or how shall we say? Just so, said he. Must we not then cut off a part from the neighbouring country, if we would have enough for arable and pasture, and they in turn from ours, if they on their part devote themselves to the accumulation of boundless wealth, going beyond the limits of mere necessity?
We must, Socrates, said he. Shall we go to war afterwards, Glaucon, or how shall we do? Certainly, said he. But let us not yet, said I, consider the question, whether war produces harm or good,—but thus much only, that we have found the origin of war, and whence especially arise mischiefs to cities, both privately and publicly. Aye, indeed. We shall require, then, friend, a still larger city,—not for a small, but for a large army, which may go out and fight with those who assail it, for their whole substance and everything that we have now mentioned. What, said he, are not these sufficient to fight? No, said I;—not if you and all of us were rightly agreed, when we formed our state: and we agreed, if you remember, that it was impossible for a single person to practise many arts well. True, said he. What then, said I, do not struggles in war seem to require art? Very much so, said he. Ought we then to take more care of the shoemaking art than of that of warfare? By no means.
But we charged the shoemaker not to attempt to be at the same time a husbandman, or a weaver, or a builder, in order that the work of shoemaking might be well done; and in like manner we allotted to each of the others a single calling, to which each was adapted by nature, and at which, each by abstaining from the rest, and applying to it the whole of his life, and not neglecting the proper opportunities, he would be likely to work well; but is it not of the greatest importance that what concerns war should be well performed? or is it so easy that one who is a husbandman may also be a soldier, and a shoemaker, and one who practises any other art,—while no one could become a skilful chess or dice player, who does not study it from childhood, but makes it a mere by-work? and can a person who takes a spear or other warlike arms and instruments, instantly become an expert combatant in an armed encounter or aught else relating to war; while, as respects the tools of any other art whatever, one cannot become a good artist, or even a wrestler to any useful extent, without having correct knowledge and bestowing sufficient attention? In that case, such tools, said he, would truly be very valuable.
CHAP. XV.—Therefore, said I, by how much more important is the work of the state-guardians, by so much will it require the greatest leisure from other pursuits, and likewise the greatest art and study! I really think so, replied he. And will it not also require natural talents suited to this particular profession? Of course. I think, then, we should make it our special business, if possible, to choose what men and what talents are suited for the guardianship of a state. Aye, our special business. By Zeus, said I, in that case we have undertaken no trifling business; but, still we must not despair, as long, at least, as we have any ability. Of course not, said he. Think you, then, said I, that the genius of a high-bred whelp at all differs as respects guardianship, from that of a high-bred youth? What do you mean? For instance, must not each of them be acute in perception, swift in pursuing what he perceives, and strong likewise, if he wants, when he has taken, to overcome it? Of all these there is great need, said he. And surely he must be brave also, if he is to fight well. Of course.
But is he likely to be brave, who has not a high spirit;[83] whether horse, or dog, or any other animal? Have you not observed, how irresistible and invincible is anger, and, when it is present, that every soul is fearless of everything and indomitable? I have. It is plain, then, what species of guardian we ought to have, as respects the body? Yes. And with reference to his soul moreover, that he should be spirited. That is clear, also. How then, said I, Glaucon, can they be otherwise than savage towards each other and the other citizens, when of such a temper? By Zeus, said he, not easily. Still it is necessary, that towards their friends they should be mild, but towards their enemies fierce:—for otherwise they would not wait for others to destroy them, but rather be beforehand with them in doing it. True, said he. What shall we do, then, said I;—whence shall we find a disposition at the same time mild and magnanimous?—for the mild nature is surely opposed to the high-spirited? It appears so. Nevertheless, if he be deprived of either of these, he cannot be a good guardian; but this seems to be impossible:—and thus it turns out that it is impossible there should be a good guardian. It seems so, said he.
Ideas discussed in this chapter
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