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ARGUMENT.

That is no real objection, said I[43]; but even if it be not like, but only appears so to him who has been asked, do you think he would the less readily express his opinion, whether we should forbid him or not? And, will you do so now? said he. Will you state, in reply, some of those things which I forbade you to say? I should not wonder, if I did, said I, if it appeared so to me on inquiry. What, then, said he, if I should shew you another answer, besides all these about justice, and better, too, than these,—what will you deserve to suffer? What else, said I, but what the ignorant ought to suffer?—and it is proper, perhaps, to learn from a wise man I consequently deserve to suffer this. You are merry now, said he; but besides learning, you must pay money too. Aye, when I have it, said I. We have got some, said Glaucon; but, as for the money, Thrasymachus, say on, for all of us will club for Socrates. By all means, I think, said he, in order that Socrates may go on in his usual manner,—not answer himself, but when another answers, take up the discourse and confute. How, then, in the first place, my good fellow, said I, can a man answer, when he neither knows, nor pretends to know; and when, supposing him to have any opinion at all about these matters, he is forbidden to say what he thinks by no ordinary person? But it is more reasonable, then, that you speak, as you say you know, and can tell us. Do not refuse, then, but oblige me by answering, and do not begrudge instructing Glaucon here, and the rest of the company.

That which is expedient for the strongest you say, is the just. And what, at all, is it that you are talking of now, Thrasymachus? for you certainly do not mean any thing like this. If Polydamas, the wrestler,[45] be stronger than we, and if beef be better for his body, this food is likewise both just and beneficial to us, who are weaker than himself. You are a saucy fellow, Socrates, and lay hold of my argument just on that side where you may damage it most. By no means, my good fellow, said I; but say more plainly what is your meaning. Know you not, then, said he, that with reference to States, some are tyrannical, others democratical, and others aristocratical? Of course. And is not the governing part of each State the more powerful? Certainly: and every government makes laws precisely to suit itself,—a democracy, democratic laws; a tyranny, tyrannic; and the rest in like manner:—and when they have made them, they declare that to be just for the governed, which is advantageous for themselves, and any one who transgresses it, they punish as one acting contrary both to law and justice.

This, then, most excellent Socrates, is what I say, that in all States the same thing constitutes justice, viz., what is expedient for the established government. This, then, is the fact with him who reasons rightly, that in all cases whatever that same is just which is expedient for the more powerful. Now, said I, I understand what you mean. But as to its truth or otherwise, I will try to find out. As for the expedient, then, even you yourself, Thrasymachus, have affirmed it to be the just; and yet, though you forbade me to give the answer, still you are adding the expression _of the more powerful_. Quite a trifling addition, perhaps, said he. It is not clear yet, whether it is small or great; but it is clear that we must inquire whether you speak the truth, since I, too, acknowledge that the just is something that is expedient; but you say, in addition, that it is that also which belongs to the most powerful. This I am not sure of; but that is what we have to inquire. Inquire then, said he. ----- Footnote 44: The Sophists were used to recommend that the laws of a state should be made by the most powerful and influential, and that in making them it was quite right that they should consult their own advantage, there being no fixed standard for virtue and justice, but only that of expediency. Comp. Gorgias, p. 483, b, c, d; and Protagor. p. 337.

Footnote 45: A celebrated wrestler of Scotussa in Thessaly, who won the prize in the Pancratium, at the Olympic games, B.C. 408. He was of immense size; and it is related of him, that he killed without arms a huge and fierce lion on Mount Olympus, and could stop a chariot at full gallop. ----- CHAP. XIII.—We will do so, said I:—and, tell me,—do you not say, that it is just to obey governors? Yes, I do. Are the governors in the several states infallible, or are they capable of erring? Certainly, said he, they are liable to err. When they set about making laws, then, do they not make some of them right, and some of them wrong? I think so. To make them right, then, is to make them expedient for themselves, and to make them not right, [is that] inexpedient;—or how mean you? Just so. And what they enact is to be observed by the governed; and this is what is just? Of course. According to your reasoning, then, it is just, to do what is expedient to the stronger, while the contrary is what is not expedient:—what say you, replied he? I am of the same opinion as yourself. But let us inquire better. Is it not granted, that governors in bidding the governed do certain things, may sometimes be in error as to what is best for themselves; and that what the governors enjoin, is just for the governed to do? Have not these [truths] been granted? I think so, said he.

Consider also, therefore, said I, that you have allowed it to be just to do what is inexpedient for governors and the more powerful, whenever governors unwillingly enjoin what is ill for themselves; and yet you say, that it is just for the others to do what these enjoin. Must it not necessarily happen, then, most sage Thrasymachus, that, in this case, it may be just to do the contrary of what you say; for that which is the disadvantage of the more powerful, is sometimes enjoined on the inferiors? Yes, by Zeus, said Polemarchus, these things are quite clear, Socrates. Yes, if you bear him witness, said Clitiphon in rejoinder. What need, said I, of a witness?—for Thrasymachus himself acknowledges that governors sometimes order what is ill for themselves, and that it is just for the governed to do these things. Aye, Polemarchus; for he laid it down, that it is just to do what is bidden by the governors, and he has also defined that as just, Clitiphon, which is expedient for the more powerful; and, having laid down both these propositions, he has granted that the more powerful sometimes bid the inferiors and governed to do what is inexpedient for themselves; and, from these concessions, what is expedient for the more powerful can no more be just than what is not expedient. But he alleged, said Clitiphon, that what was expedient for the strongest was what the strongest judged expedient for himself; this, too, was to be done by the inferior, and this he defined as the just. Aye,—but that was not stated, said Polemarchus. There is no difference, Polemarchus, said I; but, if Thrasymachus says so now, so let us understand him.

CHAP. XIV.—Now tell me, Thrasymachus; was this what you meant by justice,—namely, the advantage of the more powerful, such as appeared so to the more powerful, whether it really were so, or not:—shall we say that you mean this? Not at all, said he:—for, think you, I call him who errs, the more powerful, at the time he errs? For my part, said I, I thought you meant this, when you acknowledged that governors were not infallible, but that in some things even they erred. You are a sycophant, said he, in reasoning, Socrates![46] For, for instance do you call him a physician, who errs about the treatment of the sick, in respect of that very thing in which he errs; or him a reasoner, who errs in reasoning, at the very time he errs, and with reference to that very error? But, we say, in common language, I fancy, that the physician erred, the reasoner erred, and the grammarian likewise; but in fact I think, each of these, so far as he is what we designate him, never errs; so that, strictly speaking (especially as you are a strict reasoner), no artist errs;—for he who errs, errs through defect of science, in what he is not an artist; and hence no artist, or wise man, or governor, errs, in so far as he is a governor. Yet every one would say ‘the physician erred,’ and ‘the governor erred.’ You must understand, then, that it was in this way I just now answered you. But the most accurate answer is this:—that the governor, in as far as he is governor, errs not; and as he does not err, he enacts that which is best for himself, and this must be observed by the governed. So that as I said at the beginning, I call justice the doing that which is for the advantage of the strongest [_i. e._ the best].

Enough of such matters, said I; but tell me he who is, strictly speaking, a physician, whom you just now mentioned, is he a gainer of money, or a tender of the sick?—and mind—tell us of him who is really a physician. A tender of the sick, said he. But what of the pilot? is he who is really a pilot, a master of sailors, or a sailor? A master of sailors. It matters not, I fancy, that he sails in a ship, and is not to be called a sailor; for he it is not called a pilot from his sailing, but from his art, and his mastery of the sailors. True, said he. Has not each of these, then, something that is advantageous for him? Certainly. Was not the art then acquired for this very purpose, said I, to seek out and supply to each what is advantageous for him? For that purpose, said he. To each of the arts, then, is any other advantage wanting, than to be as perfect as possible?—How mean you by this question? If you were to ask me, said I, whether it is sufficient for the body to be a body, or whether it needs something else, I should say, that it certainly does stand in need of something else.

For this reason, indeed, has the medicinal art been already invented, because the body is infirm, and it is not sufficient for it to be such as it is:—in order then to supply what is advantageous for it, art has been provided. Do you think then, said I, that I am right, or not, in thus speaking? Right, said he. But what then? Is this very art of medicine, or any other whatever, imperfect, as being deficient in a certain virtue; just as the eyes, when deficient as to sight, and the ears as to hearing; and for these reasons need they a certain additional art to seek out and furnish what is expedient for these very organs? Is there then in art itself some imperfection, and does every art need another art, to consider what is expedient for it, and does that which considers again need another, and so on to infinity; or will each art consider what is expedient for itself; or will each need neither itself, nor any other, to consider what is expedient for it with reference to its own imperfection?—For there is no imperfection nor error in any art whatever; nor is it the business of art to seek what is expedient for anything else, but that of which it is the art;—but as for itself, it is infallible and pure, because it is right, so long as each, whatever it is, be an accurate whole:—and consider now, in that same strict sense of the words, whether it be thus or otherwise. It seems so, said he. The art of medicine, then, said I, does not consider what is expedient for the art of medicine, but for the body? Yes, said he. Nor the art of managing horses, what is expedient for that art, but for horses. Nor any other art for itself (for that is needless), but only for that of which it is the art? So it appears, he said.

However, Thrasymachus, the arts rule and govern that of which they are arts? He assented to this, though with great difficulty. No science whatever, then, either considers or dictates what is expedient for the superior, but only what is so for the inferior,—that, namely, which is governed by it? To this also he at length assented, though he attempted to contend about it. But when he had assented, What else is this, said I, but saying that no physician, so far as he is a physician, either considers or dictates what is expedient for the physician, but only what is expedient for the sick?—For the physician, strictly so called, has been acknowledged to be one who has charge of the body, and is not an amasser of wealth.—Has it not been acknowledged? He assented. And likewise that the pilot, so called, is the master of the sailors, and not a sailor? It has been acknowledged. Such a pilot and master then, will not consider and dictate what is expedient for the pilot, but what is so to the sailor and the governed? He acquiesced, but unwillingly. Nor yet, Thrasymachus, said I, does any other in any government whatever, so far as he is a governor, consider or dictate what is expedient for himself, but only for the governed and those to whom he acts as steward; and, with an eye to this, and to what is expedient and suitable for this, he both says what he says, and does what he does.

This you will most easily of all understand if you come to the most finished injustice, such as renders the unjust man most happy, but the injured and those who are unwilling to do injustice, most wretched.—This, now, is tyranny, which takes away the goods of others, as well by secret fraud as open violence, both things sacred and holy, private and public, and these in no small portions, but all at once—In all particular cases of such crimes, when a man undisguisedly commits injustice, he is both punished and treated with the greatest ignominy: and as a proof of this, they are called sacrilegious, kidnappers, housebreakers, pilferers, and thieves, according to the several kinds of the wickedness committed. But when a man, in addition to the property of the citizens, takes prisoners and enslaves the citizens themselves, instead of these ugly names, he is called happy and blest, not only by the citizens, but likewise by all the rest, whoever may get informed that he has committed [such] enormous injustice;—for those who revile wickedness, revile it—not because they are afraid of doing, but because they are afraid of suffering what is unjust.—Thus, Socrates, is it, that injustice, when it attains a certain point, is both more powerful, more free, and more absolutely despotic than justice: and (as I said at the beginning) the advantage of the stronger happens to be just, while that is unjust which profits and benefits one’s self.

And I, for my part, can say that I am not persuaded, nor do I think, that injustice is more gainful than justice,—not even should we allow it play, and not prevent it doing what it likes. But, my good friend, even supposing him to be unjust and able to do unjustly, either secretly or by open force, yet I at least am not persuaded that injustice is more gainful than justice; and on this point probably some of us here are of the same mind, and not I alone. Persuade us, therefore, sufficiently, my admirable friend, that we are wrong in deeming justice of more value than injustice. But how, said he, am I to persuade you? for if you are not persuaded by what I have said already, what further can I do for you? Shall I take and implant my arguments in your very soul? By Zeus, no, said I;—but, first of all, whatever you have said, abide by it: or, if you do change, change openly, and do not deceive us.

Now, you see, Thrasymachus—(for we will reconsider what has been above said),—that in first defining the true physician, you did not think it needful afterwards, that the true shepherd should strictly keep his flock, but fancy, that so far as he is a shepherd, he may feed his flock without regarding the best interests of the sheep, but rather as some glutton going to feast on them at some entertainment, or to dispose of them as a merchant, and not [care for them] as a shepherd. The shepherd art, however, has certainly no other care but that for which it is appointed, namely, to afford it what is best, since its own affairs are already so sufficiently provided for, as to be in the very best state without needing any of the shepherd art. So likewise, I, for my part, conceived that there you must necessarily agree with us in this, that every government, in as far as it is government, considers what is best for nothing else but for that which is governed and tended, whether in political or private government. But with respect to rulers in cities, think you that such as are really rulers govern willingly? No, by Zeus, said he, [I do not think so;] but I am quite certain. ----- Footnote 49: Lucian must have had this passage in view, when writing Encom. Demosth. § 16:—ἦ πού γε, ἔφην, διανοεῖ καταχεῖν μου τῶν ὤτων, ὥσπερ βαλανεὺς καταντλήσας τὸν λοιπὸν λόγον.

Footnote 50: Analogous phrases are common among the Greek Classics. Comp. Gorg. p. 506 c., and Thucyd. i. c. 129:—Κείσεταί σοι εὐεργεσία ἐν πῷ ἡμετέρῳ οἴκῳ εἰσαεὶ ἀνάγραπτος. ----- CHAP. XVIII.—Why now, Thrasymachus, said I, do you not perceive, as regards all other governments, that no one undertakes them willingly, but men ask for recompense, since the benefits likely to accrue from governing are not to come to themselves, but to the governed? Tell me this, then;—do we not always say that each several art is distinct in this, in having a distinct function? And my admirable friend, do not answer contrary to your opinion, that we may make some real progress. In this respect, at any rate, said he, it is distinct. And does not each of them afford us some certain peculiar advantage, and not a common one;—as, for instance, the medicinal, health; the pilot art, safety in sailing,—and the rest in like manner? Certainly. And has not the mercenary art mercenary reward? for this is its function. Do you call both the medicinal art and the pilot art one and the same? Or, if you mean to define them strictly, as you proposed, though one in piloting recover his health, on account of the expedience of his going to sea, you will not at all the more on this account call it the medicinal art? Not at all, said he.

Nor [will you call] the mercenary art the medicinal, I fancy, though in earning a reward one may recover his health? No, indeed. What then? Will you call the medicinal the mercenary art, if, in performing a cure, one earn a reward? No, said he. Have we not acknowledged, then, that each art has its peculiar advantage? Granted, said he. Whatever, then, be that advantage, with which all artists in common are advantaged, it must plainly be by using some same thing in common to all, that they are advantaged by it. It seems so, said he. Still, we say that the advantage accruing to artists from receiving a reward comes to them from the adoption of a mercenary art. He acquiesced unwillingly. This, then, is not the advantage which each receives from his own art, [namely,] the receiving a reward?—But if we strictly consider it, the art of medicine produces health, that of money-getting a reward, masonry a house, and the mercenary art accompanying it, a reward; and all the others in like manner,—every one performs its own work, and confers advantage on that for which it was designed; but if it meet not with a reward, is the artist benefited at all by his art? It appears not, said he.

But confers he no service when he works gratuitously? I think he does. This, then, is now evident, Thrasymachus, that no art or government provides what is advantageous for itself; but, as we said long ago, it both provides and prescribes for the governed what is advantageous to him, having in view the interest of the inferior and not that of the more powerful. For these reasons, then, friend Thrasymachus, I even just now said, that no one is willing to govern and undertake the setting right of others’ troubles without asking a reward; because, whoever intends to practise his art well, never himself does nor enjoins [on others] what is best for himself, if he enjoins according to his art, but rather what is best for the governed; for which reason, therefore, as it seems, a recompense must be given to those who are likely to be willing governors,—either money, or honour,—or punishment, on the other hand, if a man will not govern.

CHAP. XIX.—How say you this, Socrates? said Glaucon:—the two rewards, indeed, I understand; but the punishment, that you mention, and how you can speak of it under the head of reward, I know not. As for the reward, then, of the best of men, said I, do you not understand why the most worthy govern, when they are willing to govern:—or, do you not know, that to be ambitious and covetous, is both deemed a reproach, and is so? I do, said he. For these reasons, then, said I, good men are not willing to govern, either for money or for honour; inasmuch as they neither wish to be called mercenary, for openly making gain by governing,—nor thieves, for taking clandestinely from what belongs to their office:—nor again [are they willing to govern] for honour, since they are not ambitious. Hence if they are to be induced to govern willingly, there must be laid on them both compulsion and punishment; and hence it seems likely, that a willing undertaking of government, without waiting for compulsion, has been reckoned dishonourable. The greatest part of the punishment, however, in case he is not willing to govern himself, is the being governed by one who is inferior.

It is chiefly through fear of this, methinks, that the good govern, when they do govern: and in that case they enter on the government, not as on anything good, or as about to derive any advantage therefrom, but as on a necessary task, and finding none better than, or even like, themselves, to intrust with the government. It seems likely, indeed, that if there were a state of good men, the contest would be, not to govern, as now it is to govern; and, hence, it would be manifest, that the really true governor does not naturally aim at his own advantage, but at that of the governed; so that any one who has sense would rather choose to be benefited by another, than have trouble in benefiting another. This, therefore, I, for my part, by no means grant to Thrasymachus; that justice is what is expedient for the stronger:—but this, indeed, we shall consider again hereafter.—What Thrasymachus says now, however, seems to me of much more importance,—when he says, that the life of the unjust man is better than that of the just. You, then, Glaucon, said I, which opinion do you choose; and which of the two seems to you most consistent with truth?

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