BOOK IV

Here Adeimantus interposed a question: How would you answer, Socrates, said he, if a person were to say that you are making these people miserable, and that they are the cause of their own unhappiness; the city in fact belongs to them, but they are none the better for it; whereas other men acquire lands, and build large and handsome houses, and have everything handsome about them, offering sacrifices to the gods on their own account, and practising hospitality; moreover, as you were saying just now, they have gold and silver, and all that is usual among the favourites of fortune; but our poor citizens are no better than mercenaries who are quartered in the city and are always mounting guard?

Adeimantus then asked a question. "Socrates, how would you reply? Suppose someone said you are making these people miserable and that they cause their own unhappiness. The city belongs to them, but they are no better off. Other men buy land and build large, handsome houses. They surround themselves with beautiful things. They offer sacrifices to the gods for themselves and practice hospitality. As you were just saying, they have gold and silver and all the usual signs of those favored by fortune. But our poor citizens are no better than mercenaries stationed in the city, always standing guard?"

Yes, I said; and you may add that they are only fed, and not paid in addition to their food, like other men; and therefore they cannot, if they would, take a journey of pleasure; they have no money to spend on a mistress or any other luxurious fancy, which, as the world goes, is thought to be happiness; and many other accusations of the same nature might be added.

"Yes," I said. "You may add that they are only fed, not paid extra like other men. So they cannot, if they wanted, go on pleasure trips. They have no money for a mistress or any other luxury. People often think those things are happiness. Many other similar accusations could be added."

But, said he, let us suppose all this to be included in the charge.

"But," he said, "let's suppose all this is included in the charge."

You mean to ask, I said, what will be our answer?

"You mean to ask," I said, "what will be our answer?"

Yes.

"Yes."

If we proceed along the old path, my belief, I said, is that we shall find the answer. And our answer will be that, even as they are, our guardians may very likely be the happiest of men; but that our aim in founding the State was not the disproportionate happiness of any one class, but the greatest happiness of the whole; we thought that in a State which is ordered with a view to the good of the whole we should be most likely to find justice, and in the ill-ordered State injustice: and, having found them, we might then decide which of the two is the happier. At present, I take it, we are fashioning the happy State, not piecemeal, or with a view of making a few happy citizens, but as a whole; and by-and-by we will proceed to view the opposite kind of State. Suppose that we were painting a statue, and some one came up to us and said, Why do you not put the most beautiful colours on the most beautiful parts of the body—the eyes ought to be purple, but you have made them black—to him we might fairly answer, Sir, you would not surely have us beautify the eyes to such a degree that they are no longer eyes; consider rather whether, by giving this and the other features their due proportion, we make the whole beautiful. And so I say to you, do not compel us to assign to the guardians a sort of happiness which will make them anything but guardians; for we too can clothe our husbandmen in royal apparel, and set crowns of gold on their heads, and bid them till the ground as much as they like, and no more. Our potters also might be allowed to repose on couches, and feast by the fireside, passing round the winecup, while their wheel is conveniently at hand, and working at pottery only as much as they like; in this way we might make every class happy—and then, as you imagine, the whole State would be happy. But do not put this idea into our heads; for, if we listen to you, the husbandman will be no longer a husbandman, the potter will cease to be a potter, and no one will have the character of any distinct class in the State. Now this is not of much consequence where the corruption of society, and pretension to be what you are not, is confined to cobblers; but when the guardians of the laws and of the government are only seeming and not real guardians, then see how they turn the State upside down; and on the other hand they alone have the power of giving order and happiness to the State. We mean our guardians to be true saviours and not the destroyers of the State, whereas our opponent is thinking of peasants at a festival, who are enjoying a life of revelry, not of citizens who are doing their duty to the State. But, if so, we mean different things, and he is speaking of something which is not a State. And therefore we must consider whether in appointing our guardians we would look to their greatest happiness individually, or whether this principle of happiness does not rather reside in the State as a whole. But if the latter be the truth, then the guardians and auxiliaries, and all others equally with them, must be compelled or induced to do their own work in the best way. And thus the whole State will grow up in a noble order, and the several classes will receive the proportion of happiness which nature assigns to them.

"If we follow the old path," I said, "I believe we'll find the answer. We'll probably conclude that, as they are, our guardians may be the happiest people. But our aim in founding the State was not to make one class disproportionately happy. We wanted the greatest happiness for everyone. We thought a State ordered for the common good was most likely to be just. In a badly ordered State we would expect injustice. Once we see justice and injustice, we can decide which brings more happiness. For now we're building the happy State as a whole, not bit by bit and not to make just a few people happy. Later we will look at the opposite kind of State. Imagine we're painting a statue. Someone might say, "Why don't you put the best colors on the best parts? The eyes should be purple, but you made them black." We could answer, "You would not want us to decorate the eyes so much that they stop looking like eyes. Think whether giving each feature its proper proportion makes the whole statue beautiful." So don't force us to give the guardians a kind of happiness that would stop them being guardians. We could dress our farmers in royal clothes, put gold crowns on them, and let them farm as much or as little as they want. We could let our potters lounge on couches, feast by the fire, pass the wine cup, and keep their wheel nearby to work only when they choose. That way every class would be happy and, as you imagine, the whole State would be happy. But don't put that idea in our heads. If we follow you, farmers will no longer be farmers, potters will stop being potters, and no one will belong to any distinct class. This matters little if false pretension is limited to cobblers. But if the guardians of law and government only pretend to be guardians, they will overturn the State. They are also the only ones who can bring order and happiness. We want our guardians to be true saviors, not destroyers of the State. Our opponent imagines peasants at a festival enjoying revelry, not citizens doing their duty. If he means that, we are talking about different things. He is describing something that is not a State. So we must decide whether, when choosing guardians, we seek their individual happiness or the happiness of the whole State. If the latter is true, then the guardians and auxiliaries, and everyone else, must be forced or encouraged to do their proper work well. In that way the State will develop in a noble order, and each class will get the share of happiness nature assigns them."

I think that you are quite right.

"I think you're right."

I wonder whether you will agree with another remark which occurs to me.

"I wonder if you'll agree with another remark that occurred to me."

What may that be?

"What could that be?"

There seem to be two causes of the deterioration of the arts.

"There seem to be two causes for the decline of the arts."

What are they?

"What are they?"

Wealth, I said, and poverty.

"Wealth and poverty," I said.

How do they act?

"How do they behave?"

The process is as follows: When a potter becomes rich, will he, think you, any longer take the same pains with his art?

"The process is this. If a potter grows rich, will he keep taking the same care with his craft?"

Certainly not.

"Certainly not."

He will grow more and more indolent and careless?

"He'll become increasingly lazy and careless?"

Very true.

"That's very true."

And the result will be that he becomes a worse potter?

"So he'll end up a worse potter?"

Yes; he greatly deteriorates.

"Yes. He gets much worse."

But, on the other hand, if he has no money, and cannot provide himself with tools or instruments, he will not work equally well himself, nor will he teach his sons or apprentices to work equally well.

"But if he has no money and can't get tools or equipment, he won't work as well himself. He won't teach his sons or apprentices to work as well either."

Certainly not.

"Certainly not."

Then, under the influence either of poverty or of wealth, workmen and their work are equally liable to degenerate?

"Then, under either poverty or wealth, do workers and their work both tend to degenerate?"

That is evident.

"That's clear."

Here, then, is a discovery of new evils, I said, against which the guardians will have to watch, or they will creep into the city unobserved.

"Here, then, is a discovery of new evils," I said. "The guardians must watch for them, or they will slip into the city unnoticed."

What evils?

"What evils?"

Wealth, I said, and poverty; the one is the parent of luxury and indolence, and the other of meanness and viciousness, and both of discontent.

"Wealth and poverty," I said. "Wealth leads to luxury and laziness. Poverty leads to stinginess and vice. Both bring discontent."

That is very true, he replied; but still I should like to know, Socrates, how our city will be able to go to war, especially against an enemy who is rich and powerful, if deprived of the sinews of war.

"That's very true," he said. "I still want to know, Socrates. How can our city go to war, especially against a rich, powerful enemy, if it lacks the means?"

There would certainly be a difficulty, I replied, in going to war with one such enemy; but there is no difficulty where there are two of them.

"That would certainly be difficult," I replied. "Going to war with one such enemy is hard, but not when there are two."

How so? he asked.

"How so?" he asked.

In the first place, I said, if we have to fight, our side will be trained warriors fighting against an army of rich men.

"First," I said. "If we have to fight, our side will be trained soldiers facing an army of rich men."

That is true, he said.

"That's true," he said.

And do you not suppose, Adeimantus, that a single boxer who was perfect in his art would easily be a match for two stout and well-to-do gentlemen who were not boxers?

"Don't you think, Adeimantus, that a single boxer who is a master of his art could easily beat two men? Those men would be strong and well-off but not boxers."

Hardly, if they came upon him at once.

"Hardly, if they found him right away."

What, now, I said, if he were able to run away and then turn and strike at the one who first came up? And supposing he were to do this several times under the heat of a scorching sun, might he not, being an expert, overturn more than one stout personage?

"What if," I said, "he could run away and then turn and strike the first person who came up? If he did this several times in the scorching sun, wouldn't an expert overturn more than one strong man?"

Certainly, he said, there would be nothing wonderful in that.

"Certainly," he said, "there would be nothing wonderful about that."

And yet rich men probably have a greater superiority in the science and practise of boxing than they have in military qualities.

"Yet rich men probably have a greater advantage in the science and practice of boxing than in military skills."

Likely enough.

"Most likely."

Then we may assume that our athletes will be able to fight with two or three times their own number?

"So can we assume our athletes will be able to fight against two or three times as many opponents?"

I agree with you, for I think you right.

"I agree with you. I think you're right."

And suppose that, before engaging, our citizens send an embassy to one of the two cities, telling them what is the truth: Silver and gold we neither have nor are permitted to have, but you may; do you therefore come and help us in war, and take the spoils of the other city: Who, on hearing these words, would choose to fight against lean wiry dogs, rather than, with the dogs on their side, against fat and tender sheep?

"Suppose, before we fight, our citizens send an envoy to one of the two cities. He tells them the truth. "We don't have silver or gold, and we're not allowed to have them. You do. So will you come and help us in war and take the other city's spoils?" Who, hearing this, would choose to fight against lean, wiry dogs instead of joining them to fight fat, tender sheep?"

That is not likely; and yet there might be a danger to the poor State if the wealth of many States were to be gathered into one.

"That's not likely. Yet the poor State could be in danger if the wealth of many States were gathered into one."

But how simple of you to use the term State at all of any but our own!

"But how foolish of you to call anything a State except our own!"

Why so?

"Why is that?"

You ought to speak of other States in the plural number; not one of them is a city, but many cities, as they say in the game. For indeed any city, however small, is in fact divided into two, one the city of the poor, the other of the rich; these are at war with one another; and in either there are many smaller divisions, and you would be altogether beside the mark if you treated them all as a single State. But if you deal with them as many, and give the wealth or power or persons of the one to the others, you will always have a great many friends and not many enemies. And your State, while the wise order which has now been prescribed continues to prevail in her, will be the greatest of States, I do not mean to say in reputation or appearance, but in deed and truth, though she number not more than a thousand defenders. A single State which is her equal you will hardly find, either among Hellenes or barbarians, though many that appear to be as great and many times greater.

"You should speak of other states in the plural. None of them is just one city, but many cities, as they say in the game. In fact, any city, however small, is really divided into two. One is the city of the poor, the other the city of the rich. These two are at war with each other. Inside each there are many smaller divisions. You would be completely wrong to treat them all as a single state. But if you treat them as many, and let the wealth, power, and people of one bolster the others, you will have many friends and few enemies. And your state, so long as the wise order I have described continues, will be the greatest of states. I do not mean in reputation or appearance, but in deed and truth, even if she counts no more than a thousand defenders. You will hardly find any single state equal to her among Hellenes or barbarians, though many may seem as great or much greater."

That is most true, he said.

"That's absolutely true," he said.

And what, I said, will be the best limit for our rulers to fix when they are considering the size of the State and the amount of territory which they are to include, and beyond which they will not go?

I said, "What limit should our rulers set when deciding the State's size? How much territory should it include, and where should they stop?"

What limit would you propose?

"What limit would you set?"

I would allow the State to increase so far as is consistent with unity; that, I think, is the proper limit.

"I would allow the State to expand only so far as it remains united. I think that is the proper limit."

Very good, he said.

"Very good," he said.

Here then, I said, is another order which will have to be conveyed to our guardians: Let our city be accounted neither large nor small, but one and self-sufficing.

"Here, then," I said, "is another rule we must tell our guardians. Let our city be considered neither large nor small, but one and self-sufficient."

And surely, said he, this is not a very severe order which we impose upon them.

"Surely," he said, "this is not a harsh order to impose on them."

And the other, said I, of which we were speaking before is lighter still,—I mean the duty of degrading the offspring of the guardians when inferior, and of elevating into the rank of guardians the offspring of the lower classes, when naturally superior. The intention was, that, in the case of the citizens generally, each individual should be put to the use for which nature intended him, one to one work, and then every man would do his own business, and be one and not many; and so the whole city would be one and not many.

"And the other," I said, "of which we were speaking earlier, is even easier. I mean the duty of demoting the children of the guardians when they are inferior, and of promoting the children of the lower classes when they are naturally superior. The plan was that each citizen should be placed in the role nature intended. Each person would have one job. Each would do their own work and be one, not many. In that way the whole city would be one, not many."

Yes, he said; that is not so difficult.

"Yes," he said. "That's not so difficult."

The regulations which we are prescribing, my good Adeimantus, are not, as might be supposed, a number of great principles, but trifles all, if care be taken, as the saying is, of the one great thing,—a thing, however, which I would rather call, not great, but sufficient for our purpose.

"My good Adeimantus," I said, "the regulations we are making are not, as you might suppose, a set of great principles. They are all small matters, if we take care of the one important thing. I would not call that thing great. I would call it sufficient for our purpose."

What may that be? he asked.

"What is that?" he asked.

Education, I said, and nurture: If our citizens are well educated, and grow into sensible men, they will easily see their way through all these, as well as other matters which I omit; such, for example, as marriage, the possession of women and the procreation of children, which will all follow the general principle that friends have all things in common, as the proverb says.

"Education and upbringing," I said. "If our citizens are well educated and become sensible people, they will easily handle these matters. The same applies to other issues I omit. For example, marriage, the possession of women, and having children will follow the basic rule. Friends share everything, as the proverb says."

That will be the best way of settling them.

"That will be the best way to settle them."

Also, I said, the State, if once started well, moves with accumulating force like a wheel. For good nurture and education implant good constitutions, and these good constitutions taking root in a good education improve more and more, and this improvement affects the breed in man as in other animals.

"Also," I said, "the State, once started well, gathers momentum like a rolling wheel. Good upbringing and education create strong characters. When these characters take root, they continue to improve. That improvement affects humans just as it affects other animals."

Very possibly, he said.

"Very likely," he said.

Then to sum up: This is the point to which, above all, the attention of our rulers should be directed,—that music and gymnastic be preserved in their original form, and no innovation made. They must do their utmost to maintain them intact. And when any one says that mankind most regard

"To sum up: This is where our rulers' attention should go above all. They should preserve music and gymnastics in their original form. No innovations must be made. They should do everything possible to keep them intact. And when anyone says that people should care most about"

‘The newest song which the singers have,’

"The singers' newest song,"

they will be afraid that he may be praising, not new songs, but a new kind of song; and this ought not to be praised, or conceived to be the meaning of the poet; for any musical innovation is full of danger to the whole State, and ought to be prohibited. So Damon tells me, and I can quite believe him;—he says that when modes of music change, the fundamental laws of the State always change with them.

"They will be afraid that he may be praising not new songs, but a new kind of song. That must not be praised or taken as the poet's meaning. Any musical innovation is dangerous to the whole state and should be banned. That's what Damon tells me, and I believe him. He says that when musical modes change, the state's basic laws change with them."

Yes, said Adeimantus; and you may add my suffrage to Damon’s and your own.

"Yes," said Adeimantus. "You can add my vote to yours and Damon's."

Then, I said, our guardians must lay the foundations of their fortress in music?

"So I asked, 'Should our guardians build the foundations of their fortress on music?'"

Yes, he said; the lawlessness of which you speak too easily steals in.

"Yes," he said. "The lawlessness you speak of slips in too easily."

Yes, I replied, in the form of amusement; and at first sight it appears harmless.

"Yes," I replied with a hint of amusement. At first glance it seems harmless.

Why, yes, he said, and there is no harm; were it not that little by little this spirit of licence, finding a home, imperceptibly penetrates into manners and customs; whence, issuing with greater force, it invades contracts between man and man, and from contracts goes on to laws and constitutions, in utter recklessness, ending at last, Socrates, by an overthrow of all rights, private as well as public.

"Why, yes," he said. "There's no harm, as long as this spirit of license doesn't take hold. If it does, little by little it will seep into people's habits and customs. Once it grows stronger, it invades agreements between people. From those agreements it moves on to laws and constitutions with utter recklessness. In the end, Socrates, it destroys all rights, both private and public."

Is that true? I said.

"Is that true?" I asked.

That is my belief, he replied.

"That's my belief," he replied.

Then, as I was saying, our youth should be trained from the first in a stricter system, for if amusements become lawless, and the youths themselves become lawless, they can never grow up into well-conducted and virtuous citizens.

"As I was saying, we should train our youth from the start in a stricter system. If amusements become lawless, and the youths themselves become lawless, they can never grow into well-behaved, virtuous citizens."

Very true, he said.

"That's very true," he said.

And when they have made a good beginning in play, and by the help of music have gained the habit of good order, then this habit of order, in a manner how unlike the lawless play of the others! will accompany them in all their actions and be a principle of growth to them, and if there be any fallen places in the State will raise them up again.

"When they begin play well and music helps them form a habit of order, that habit will stay with them. It is very different from the lawless play of others. It will guide all their actions and help them grow. If any part of the State has fallen, it will raise it up again."

Very true, he said.

"That's true," he said.

Thus educated, they will invent for themselves any lesser rules which their predecessors have altogether neglected.

"Once educated this way, they will make up any minor rules their predecessors completely ignored."

What do you mean?

"What do you mean?"

I mean such things as these:—when the young are to be silent before their elders; how they are to show respect to them by standing and making them sit; what honour is due to parents; what garments or shoes are to be worn; the mode of dressing the hair; deportment and manners in general. You would agree with me?

"I mean things like these. When the young should be silent before their elders. How they should show respect by standing and helping elders sit. What honor is due to parents. What clothes or shoes to wear. How to dress the hair. Behavior and manners in general. You would agree with me?"

Yes.

"Yes."

But there is, I think, small wisdom in legislating about such matters,—I doubt if it is ever done; nor are any precise written enactments about them likely to be lasting.

"But I don't think there's much wisdom in making laws about such matters. I doubt it's ever done. Nor are precise written rules about them likely to last."

Impossible.

"Impossible."

It would seem, Adeimantus, that the direction in which education starts a man, will determine his future life. Does not like always attract like?

"It seems, Adeimantus, that the direction education takes a person will determine their future. Doesn't like always attract like?"

To be sure.

"Of course."

Until some one rare and grand result is reached which may be good, and may be the reverse of good?

"Until some rare and grand result is reached, which might be good or might be the opposite?"

That is not to be denied.

"That can't be denied."

And for this reason, I said, I shall not attempt to legislate further about them.

"For that reason," I said, "I won't try to make any more laws about them."

Naturally enough, he replied.

"Of course," he said.

Well, and about the business of the agora, and the ordinary dealings between man and man, or again about agreements with artisans; about insult and injury, or the commencement of actions, and the appointment of juries, what would you say? there may also arise questions about any impositions and exactions of market and harbour dues which may be required, and in general about the regulations of markets, police, harbours, and the like. But, oh heavens! shall we condescend to legislate on any of these particulars?

"Well, what about the business of the agora and ordinary dealings between people? Or agreements with artisans? What about insults and injuries, starting lawsuits, and picking juries? There can also be questions about the imposition and collection of market and harbor dues. And generally about regulations for markets, policing, harbors, and the like. But, oh heavens, are we really going to stoop to make laws about these particulars?"

I think, he said, that there is no need to impose laws about them on good men; what regulations are necessary they will find out soon enough for themselves.

"I think," he said, "there is no need to make laws about them for good people. They will find the rules they need soon enough on their own."

Yes, I said, my friend, if God will only preserve to them the laws which we have given them.

"Yes," I said, "my friend, if God will only keep the laws we've given them."

And without divine help, said Adeimantus, they will go on for ever making and mending their laws and their lives in the hope of attaining perfection.

“Without divine help,” said Adeimantus. “They will go on forever making and mending their laws and their lives, hoping to attain perfection.”

You would compare them, I said, to those invalids who, having no self-restraint, will not leave off their habits of intemperance?

"You would compare them," I said, "to those invalids who lack self-control and refuse to stop their habits of excess?"

Exactly.

"Exactly."

Yes, I said; and what a delightful life they lead! they are always doctoring and increasing and complicating their disorders, and always fancying that they will be cured by any nostrum which anybody advises them to try.

"Yes," I said. "What a delightful life they lead! They are always treating their ailments, making them worse and more complicated. They always imagine any remedy someone suggests will cure them."

Such cases are very common, he said, with invalids of this sort.

"That happens often," he said. "It's common with people in poor health."

Yes, I replied; and the charming thing is that they deem him their worst enemy who tells them the truth, which is simply that, unless they give up eating and drinking and wenching and idling, neither drug nor cautery nor spell nor amulet nor any other remedy will avail.

"Yes," I replied. "The odd thing is that they call the man who tells them the truth their worst enemy. The truth is simple. Unless they stop eating, drinking, sleeping around, and idling, no drug, cautery, spell, amulet, or any other remedy will help."

Charming! he replied. I see nothing charming in going into a passion with a man who tells you what is right.

"Charming!" he replied. "I don't see anything charming about getting angry with someone who tells you what's right."

These gentlemen, I said, do not seem to be in your good graces.

"These gentlemen," I said, "don't seem to be on your good side."

Assuredly not.

"Certainly not."

Nor would you praise the behaviour of States which act like the men whom I was just now describing. For are there not ill-ordered States in which the citizens are forbidden under pain of death to alter the constitution; and yet he who most sweetly courts those who live under this regime and indulges them and fawns upon them and is skilful in anticipating and gratifying their humours is held to be a great and good statesman—do not these States resemble the persons whom I was describing?

"You wouldn't praise the behavior of states that act like the men I just described. Aren't there badly ordered states where citizens are forbidden, even under penalty of death, to change the constitution? Yet the person who flatters those living under this system is called a great and good statesman. He pampers them, fawns on them, and skillfully anticipates and satisfies their whims. Don't these states resemble the people I was describing?"

Yes, he said; the States are as bad as the men; and I am very far from praising them.

"Yes," he said. "The states are as bad as the people. I'm far from praising them."

But do you not admire, I said, the coolness and dexterity of these ready ministers of political corruption?

"Don't you admire the calmness and skill of these willing agents of political corruption?" I said.

Yes, he said, I do; but not of all of them, for there are some whom the applause of the multitude has deluded into the belief that they are really statesmen, and these are not much to be admired.

"Yes," he said, "I do. But not all of them. Some have been deceived by the crowd's applause into believing they are real statesmen. Those are not much to admire."

What do you mean? I said; you should have more feeling for them. When a man cannot measure, and a great many others who cannot measure declare that he is four cubits high, can he help believing what they say?

"What do you mean?" I said. "Be more understanding of them. If a man can't measure, and many others who can't measure say he's four cubits tall, can he help believing them?"

Nay, he said, certainly not in that case.

"No," he said. "Certainly not in that case."

Well, then, do not be angry with them; for are they not as good as a play, trying their hand at paltry reforms such as I was describing; they are always fancying that by legislation they will make an end of frauds in contracts, and the other rascalities which I was mentioning, not knowing that they are in reality cutting off the heads of a hydra?

"Well then, don't be angry with them. Aren't they like actors in a play? They try their hand at petty reforms like the ones I described. They always imagine that laws will end frauds in contracts and the other wrongdoings I mentioned. They don't realize they're really cutting off the heads of a hydra."

Yes, he said; that is just what they are doing.

"Yes," he said. "That is exactly what they are doing."

I conceive, I said, that the true legislator will not trouble himself with this class of enactments whether concerning laws or the constitution either in an ill-ordered or in a well-ordered State; for in the former they are quite useless, and in the latter there will be no difficulty in devising them; and many of them will naturally flow out of our previous regulations.

"I think the true lawgiver won't bother with these rules," I said. "They concern laws or the constitution. In a badly ordered state they are useless. In a well-ordered state they are easy to devise. Many will naturally follow from the rules we've already set."

What, then, he said, is still remaining to us of the work of legislation?

"So what remains for us to do in making the laws?" he asked.

Nothing to us, I replied; but to Apollo, the God of Delphi, there remains the ordering of the greatest and noblest and chiefest things of all.

"None for us," I replied. "But for Apollo, the God of Delphi, the ordering of the greatest and noblest things still remains."

Which are they? he said.

"Which ones are they?" he said.

The institution of temples and sacrifices, and the entire service of gods, demigods, and heroes; also the ordering of the repositories of the dead, and the rites which have to be observed by him who would propitiate the inhabitants of the world below. These are matters of which we are ignorant ourselves, and as founders of a city we should be unwise in trusting them to any interpreter but our ancestral deity. He is the god who sits in the centre, on the navel of the earth, and he is the interpreter of religion to all mankind.

"The setting up of temples and sacrifices, and all services for gods, demigods, and heroes. Also the care of burial places and the rites needed to appease the inhabitants of the world below. We do not know these things ourselves. As founders of a city, it would be unwise to trust them to any interpreter but our ancestral deity. He is the god who sits at the center, on the navel of the earth. He is the interpreter of religion for all mankind."

You are right, and we will do as you propose.

"You're right. We'll do as you suggest."

But where, amid all this, is justice? son of Ariston, tell me where. Now that our city has been made habitable, light a candle and search, and get your brother and Polemarchus and the rest of our friends to help, and let us see where in it we can discover justice and where injustice, and in what they differ from one another, and which of them the man who would be happy should have for his portion, whether seen or unseen by gods and men.

"But where, in all this, is justice? Son of Ariston, tell me where. Now that our city is habitable, light a lamp and look. Bring your brother, Polemarchus, and the rest of our friends to help. Let's see where justice is in the city and where injustice is. Let's note how they differ. Which should a man who wants to be happy have for his share? Justice or injustice, whether seen or unseen by gods and men?"

Nonsense, said Glaucon: did you not promise to search yourself, saying that for you not to help justice in her need would be an impiety?

"That's nonsense," Glaucon said. "Didn't you promise to examine yourself? You said it would be immoral not to help Justice when she needed you."

I do not deny that I said so, and as you remind me, I will be as good as my word; but you must join.

"I won't deny I said that. Now that you remind me, I'll keep my word. But you must join."

We will, he replied.

"We will," he replied.

Well, then, I hope to make the discovery in this way: I mean to begin with the assumption that our State, if rightly ordered, is perfect.

"Well then, I hope to make the discovery this way. I will begin by assuming that our State, when properly ordered, is perfect."

That is most certain.

"That's certainly true."

And being perfect, is therefore wise and valiant and temperate and just.

"And if someone is perfect, they are wise, brave, self-controlled, and just."

That is likewise clear.

"That's clear too."

And whichever of these qualities we find in the State, the one which is not found will be the residue?

"So whichever of these qualities we find in the State, the one that is missing will remain?"

Very good.

"Very good."

If there were four things, and we were searching for one of them, wherever it might be, the one sought for might be known to us from the first, and there would be no further trouble; or we might know the other three first, and then the fourth would clearly be the one left.

"Suppose there are four things and we're looking for one of them, no matter where it is. We might already know the one we're after, so there would be no problem. Or we might first know the other three. Then the fourth would obviously be the one left."

Very true, he said.

"That's very true," he said.

And is not a similar method to be pursued about the virtues, which are also four in number?

"Shouldn't we use the same method for the virtues? There are four of them too."

Clearly.

"That's clear."

First among the virtues found in the State, wisdom comes into view, and in this I detect a certain peculiarity.

"Wisdom is the first virtue we find in the State. I notice something peculiar about it."

What is that?

"What's that?"

The State which we have been describing is said to be wise as being good in counsel?

"Is the State we've been describing called wise because it is good at giving counsel?"

Very true.

"That's very true."

And good counsel is clearly a kind of knowledge, for not by ignorance, but by knowledge, do men counsel well?

"Good counsel is clearly a kind of knowledge. People give good counsel not from ignorance but from knowledge, don't they?"

Clearly.

"Clearly."

And the kinds of knowledge in a State are many and diverse?

"Aren't the kinds of knowledge in a State many and diverse?"

Of course.

"Of course."

There is the knowledge of the carpenter; but is that the sort of knowledge which gives a city the title of wise and good in counsel?

"There is the carpenter's knowledge. Is that the kind of knowledge that makes a city worthy of being called wise and good at governing?"

Certainly not; that would only give a city the reputation of skill in carpentering.

"Certainly not. That would only give the city a reputation for carpentry skill."

Then a city is not to be called wise because possessing a knowledge which counsels for the best about wooden implements?

"So a city isn't called wise just because it knows what's best about wooden tools?"

Certainly not.

"No, certainly not."

Nor by reason of a knowledge which advises about brazen pots, I said, nor as possessing any other similar knowledge?

I said, "You mean not because I know about bronze pots, and not because I have any similar kind of knowledge?"

Not by reason of any of them, he said.

"Not because of any of them," he said.

Nor yet by reason of a knowledge which cultivates the earth; that would give the city the name of agricultural?

"Not because of knowledge that cultivates the land. That would make the city agricultural, wouldn't it?"

Yes.

"Yes."

Well, I said, and is there any knowledge in our recently-founded State among any of the citizens which advises, not about any particular thing in the State, but about the whole, and considers how a State can best deal with itself and with other States?

"Well," I said. "Do any citizens in our newly founded state have knowledge that deals with the whole state, not just one part? Does it consider how a state can best govern itself and relate to other states?"

There certainly is.

"Yes, there is."

And what is this knowledge, and among whom is it found? I asked.

"What is this knowledge? Who has it?" I asked.

It is the knowledge of the guardians, he replied, and is found among those whom we were just now describing as perfect guardians.

"It is the knowledge of the guardians," he replied. "It is found in those we just described as perfect guardians."

And what is the name which the city derives from the possession of this sort of knowledge?

"What name does the city get from having this kind of knowledge?"

The name of good in counsel and truly wise.

"He is known for being good at giving counsel and truly wise."

And will there be in our city more of these true guardians or more smiths?

"Will our city have more true guardians, or more smiths?"

The smiths, he replied, will be far more numerous.

"There will be many more smiths," he replied.

Will not the guardians be the smallest of all the classes who receive a name from the profession of some kind of knowledge?

"Won't the guardians be the smallest of all the classes named for a kind of knowledge?"

Much the smallest.

"By far the smallest."

And so by reason of the smallest part or class, and of the knowledge which resides in this presiding and ruling part of itself, the whole State, being thus constituted according to nature, will be wise; and this, which has the only knowledge worthy to be called wisdom, has been ordained by nature to be of all classes the least.

"The ruling part is the smallest class. It holds the knowledge that deserves to be called wisdom. If the State is organized that way by nature, the whole State will be wise. Nature has assigned this knowledge, the only kind deserving the name 'wisdom,' to the smallest class."

Most true.

"Very true."

Thus, then, I said, the nature and place in the State of one of the four virtues has somehow or other been discovered.

"So," I said. "We've somehow discovered the nature and place of one of the four virtues in the State."

And, in my humble opinion, very satisfactorily discovered, he replied.

"I think it was discovered quite satisfactorily," he replied.

Again, I said, there is no difficulty in seeing the nature of courage, and in what part that quality resides which gives the name of courageous to the State.

"Again," I said. "There is no difficulty in seeing the nature of courage. We can also see where that quality exists that makes the State courageous."

How do you mean?

"What do you mean?"

Why, I said, every one who calls any State courageous or cowardly, will be thinking of the part which fights and goes out to war on the State’s behalf.

"Why," I said, "anyone who calls a state brave or cowardly is thinking of the part that fights. They mean the people who go to war for it."

No one, he replied, would ever think of any other.

"No one," he replied, "would ever think of anyone else."

The rest of the citizens may be courageous or may be cowardly, but their courage or cowardice will not, as I conceive, have the effect of making the city either the one or the other.

"The rest of the citizens may be brave or cowardly. I don't think their courage or cowardice will make the city as a whole one or the other."

Certainly not.

"Certainly not."

The city will be courageous in virtue of a portion of herself which preserves under all circumstances that opinion about the nature of things to be feared and not to be feared in which our legislator educated them; and this is what you term courage.

"The city will be courageous because a part of it keeps, in every situation, the belief our legislator taught. That belief is about what to fear and what not to fear. That is what you call courage."

I should like to hear what you are saying once more, for I do not think that I perfectly understand you.

"I'd like to hear that again. I don't think I fully understand you."

I mean that courage is a kind of salvation.

"I mean courage is a kind of salvation."

Salvation of what?

"Salvation of what?"

Of the opinion respecting things to be feared, what they are and of what nature, which the law implants through education; and I mean by the words ‘under all circumstances’ to intimate that in pleasure or in pain, or under the influence of desire or fear, a man preserves, and does not lose this opinion. Shall I give you an illustration?

"About the belief concerning things we should fear. About what those things are and what their nature is. The law teaches this through education. By 'in all circumstances' I mean a person keeps this belief and does not lose it. They keep it in pleasure or in pain. They keep it when moved by desire or by fear. Shall I give you an illustration?"

If you please.

"If you don't mind."

You know, I said, that dyers, when they want to dye wool for making the true sea-purple, begin by selecting their white colour first; this they prepare and dress with much care and pains, in order that the white ground may take the purple hue in full perfection. The dyeing then proceeds; and whatever is dyed in this manner becomes a fast colour, and no washing either with lyes or without them can take away the bloom. But, when the ground has not been duly prepared, you will have noticed how poor is the look either of purple or of any other colour.

"You know," I said, "when dyers want to make the true sea-purple, they start by choosing the white wool. They prepare and treat it with great care. This ensures the white base will take the purple fully. Then they dye it. Anything dyed this way becomes colorfast. No washing, with lye or plain water, can remove its vibrancy. But when the base has not been properly prepared, you have noticed how dull the purple, or any other color, looks."

Yes, he said; I know that they have a washed-out and ridiculous appearance.

"Yes," he said. "I know they look washed out and ridiculous."

Then now, I said, you will understand what our object was in selecting our soldiers, and educating them in music and gymnastic; we were contriving influences which would prepare them to take the dye of the laws in perfection, and the colour of their opinion about dangers and of every other opinion was to be indelibly fixed by their nurture and training, not to be washed away by such potent lyes as pleasure—mightier agent far in washing the soul than any soda or lye; or by sorrow, fear, and desire, the mightiest of all other solvents. And this sort of universal saving power of true opinion in conformity with law about real and false dangers I call and maintain to be courage, unless you disagree.

"Now," I said, "you will understand what our aim was in selecting our soldiers and training them in music and gymnastics. We were creating influences to prepare them to take on the laws' color perfectly. Their views about dangers, and about everything else, were to be permanently fixed by their upbringing and training. Those views were not to be washed away by pleasure. Pleasure is a much stronger cleanser of the soul than any soda or lye. Nor were their beliefs to be dissolved by sorrow, fear, or desire. Those are the strongest solvents of all. I call this universal, saving power of true belief, when it matches the law about real and false dangers, courage. Do you disagree?"

But I agree, he replied; for I suppose that you mean to exclude mere uninstructed courage, such as that of a wild beast or of a slave—this, in your opinion, is not the courage which the law ordains, and ought to have another name.

"But I agree," he replied. "I take it you mean to exclude mere untrained courage, like that of a wild animal or of a slave. In your view, that is not the kind of courage the law recognizes, and it should be called something else."

Most certainly.

"Absolutely."

Then I may infer courage to be such as you describe?

"So can I conclude that courage is what you've described?"

Why, yes, said I, you may, and if you add the words ‘of a citizen,’ you will not be far wrong;—hereafter, if you like, we will carry the examination further, but at present we are seeking not for courage but justice; and for the purpose of our enquiry we have said enough.

"Yes," I said, "you may. If you add the words 'of a citizen,' you will not be far wrong. If you like, later we can examine it further. But right now we are not seeking courage. We are seeking justice. For the purposes of our inquiry we have said enough."

You are right, he replied.

"You're right," he said.

Two virtues remain to be discovered in the State—first, temperance, and then justice which is the end of our search.

"Two virtues remain to be found in the State. First, temperance. Then justice, which is the goal of our search."

Very true.

"That's very true."

Now, can we find justice without troubling ourselves about temperance?

"Now, can we find justice without worrying about temperance?"

I do not know how that can be accomplished, he said, nor do I desire that justice should be brought to light and temperance lost sight of; and therefore I wish that you would do me the favour of considering temperance first.

"I don't know how that could be done," he said. "I also don't want justice to be revealed if temperance is ignored. Please do me the favor of considering temperance first."

Certainly, I replied, I should not be justified in refusing your request.

"Certainly," I replied. "I wouldn't be justified in refusing your request."

Then consider, he said.

"Think about this," he said.

Yes, I replied; I will; and as far as I can at present see, the virtue of temperance has more of the nature of harmony and symphony than the preceding.

"Yes," I replied. "I will. As far as I can see, temperance is more like harmony and symphony than the previous virtue."

How so? he asked.

"How so?" he asked.

Temperance, I replied, is the ordering or controlling of certain pleasures and desires; this is curiously enough implied in the saying of ‘a man being his own master;’ and other traces of the same notion may be found in language.

"Temperance," I replied, "is the ordering or controlling of certain pleasures and desires. This is curiously implied in the saying 'a man being his own master.' You can find other traces of the same notion in language."

No doubt, he said.

"No doubt," he said.

There is something ridiculous in the expression ‘master of himself;’ for the master is also the servant and the servant the master; and in all these modes of speaking the same person is denoted.

"There is something ridiculous in the expression 'master of himself.' The master is also the servant, and the servant is the master. In all these ways of speaking, the same person is meant."

Certainly.

"Of course."

The meaning is, I believe, that in the human soul there is a better and also a worse principle; and when the better has the worse under control, then a man is said to be master of himself; and this is a term of praise: but when, owing to evil education or association, the better principle, which is also the smaller, is overwhelmed by the greater mass of the worse—in this case he is blamed and is called the slave of self and unprincipled.

"I think he means the soul has a better side and a worse side. When the better side controls the worse, we say a person is master of himself. That is praise. But if bad upbringing or bad company lets the smaller, better side be overwhelmed, we blame him. We call him a slave to himself and unprincipled."

Yes, there is reason in that.

"Yes, that makes sense."

And now, I said, look at our newly-created State, and there you will find one of these two conditions realized; for the State, as you will acknowledge, may be justly called master of itself, if the words ‘temperance’ and ‘self-mastery’ truly express the rule of the better part over the worse.

"And now," I said, "look at our newly created State. There you will find one of these two conditions realized. The State, as you will acknowledge, can rightly be called master of itself. That is true if the words 'temperance' and 'self-mastery' express the rule of the better part over the worse."

Yes, he said, I see that what you say is true.

"Yes," he said. "I see that what you say is true."

Let me further note that the manifold and complex pleasures and desires and pains are generally found in children and women and servants, and in the freemen so called who are of the lowest and more numerous class.

"Many varied and complex pleasures, desires, and pains are usually found in children, in women, and in servants. They also appear in the so-called freemen who belong to the lowest and most numerous class."

Certainly, he said.

"Certainly," he said.

Whereas the simple and moderate desires which follow reason, and are under the guidance of mind and true opinion, are to be found only in a few, and those the best born and best educated.

Simple, moderate desires follow reason. They are guided by the mind and by true belief. These are found in only a few people. Those people are the best born and the best educated.

Very true.

"That's right."

These two, as you may perceive, have a place in our State; and the meaner desires of the many are held down by the virtuous desires and wisdom of the few.

"These two, as you can see, have a place in our State. The base desires of the many are kept in check by the virtuous desires and wisdom of the few."

That I perceive, he said.

"I see that," he said.

Then if there be any city which may be described as master of its own pleasures and desires, and master of itself, ours may claim such a designation?

"If any city can be called master of its own pleasures and desires, and master of itself. Can ours claim that name?"

Certainly, he replied.

"Certainly," he replied.

It may also be called temperate, and for the same reasons?

"Could it also be called temperate for the same reasons?"

Yes.

"Yes."

And if there be any State in which rulers and subjects will be agreed as to the question who are to rule, that again will be our State?

"If there is any State where rulers and subjects agree on who should rule, would that be our State?"

Undoubtedly.

"Certainly."

And the citizens being thus agreed among themselves, in which class will temperance be found—in the rulers or in the subjects?

"If the citizens agree like this, where will temperance be found? In the rulers or in the subjects?"

In both, as I should imagine, he replied.

"In both, I should think," he replied.

Do you observe that we were not far wrong in our guess that temperance was a sort of harmony?

"Do you see we were not far off when we guessed that temperance is a kind of harmony?"

Why so?

"Why is that?"

Why, because temperance is unlike courage and wisdom, each of which resides in a part only, the one making the State wise and the other valiant; not so temperance, which extends to the whole, and runs through all the notes of the scale, and produces a harmony of the weaker and the stronger and the middle class, whether you suppose them to be stronger or weaker in wisdom or power or numbers or wealth, or anything else. Most truly then may we deem temperance to be the agreement of the naturally superior and inferior, as to the right to rule of either, both in states and individuals.

"Why? Because temperance is unlike courage and wisdom. Courage and wisdom exist only in one part. One makes the State wise. The other makes it valiant. Temperance is different. It reaches the whole. It runs through every note of the scale. It brings harmony between the weaker, the stronger, and the middle class. This holds whether we judge them stronger or weaker in wisdom, power, numbers, wealth, or anything else. So we can truly call temperance the agreement between those naturally superior and those naturally inferior. It decides who has the right to rule, in both states and individuals."

I entirely agree with you.

"I completely agree with you."

And so, I said, we may consider three out of the four virtues to have been discovered in our State. The last of those qualities which make a state virtuous must be justice, if we only knew what that was.

"So," I said, "we can count three of the four virtues discovered in our State. The last quality that makes a state virtuous must be justice. If only we knew what that is."

The inference is obvious.

"That conclusion is obvious."

The time then has arrived, Glaucon, when, like huntsmen, we should surround the cover, and look sharp that justice does not steal away, and pass out of sight and escape us; for beyond a doubt she is somewhere in this country: watch therefore and strive to catch a sight of her, and if you see her first, let me know.

"The time has come, Glaucon. Like hunters, we should surround the thicket. Watch closely so justice does not slip away and vanish from sight. She is surely somewhere in this country. Keep watch and try to catch a glimpse of her. If you see her first, tell me."

Would that I could! but you should regard me rather as a follower who has just eyes enough to see what you show him—that is about as much as I am good for.

"I wish I could! Think of me instead as a follower who has just enough eyes to see what you show me. That's about all I'm good for."

Offer up a prayer with me and follow.

"Pray with me and follow."

I will, but you must show me the way.

"I'll do it, but you must show me the way."

Here is no path, I said, and the wood is dark and perplexing; still we must push on.

"There is no path," I said. "The forest is dark and confusing. Still, we must press on."

Let us push on.

"Let's press on."

Here I saw something: Halloo! I said, I begin to perceive a track, and I believe that the quarry will not escape.

"Here I saw something. I shouted, 'Halloo! I can see a track now, and I think the quarry won't escape.'"

Good news, he said.

"That's good news," he said.

Truly, I said, we are stupid fellows.

"It's true," I said. "We're such fools."

Why so?

"Why is that?"

Why, my good sir, at the beginning of our enquiry, ages ago, there was justice tumbling out at our feet, and we never saw her; nothing could be more ridiculous. Like people who go about looking for what they have in their hands—that was the way with us—we looked not at what we were seeking, but at what was far off in the distance; and therefore, I suppose, we missed her.

"Why, my good sir. At the start of our inquiry, ages ago, justice was tumbling at our feet and we never noticed her. Nothing could be more ridiculous. We were like people who search for something they already have in their hands. Instead of looking at what we sought, we looked at what lay far off. So I suppose we missed her."

What do you mean?

"What do you mean?"

I mean to say that in reality for a long time past we have been talking of justice, and have failed to recognise her.

"I mean that, in reality, for a long time we've been talking about justice. We haven't recognized her."

I grow impatient at the length of your exordium.

"I'm getting impatient with how long your introduction is."

Well then, tell me, I said, whether I am right or not: You remember the original principle which we were always laying down at the foundation of the State, that one man should practise one thing only, the thing to which his nature was best adapted;—now justice is this principle or a part of it.

"Well then," I said, "tell me whether I'm right or not. Do you remember the basic principle we kept establishing when founding the State? That each person should do only one thing, the work that best fits their nature. So is justice this whole principle, or only part of it?"

Yes, we often said that one man should do one thing only.

"Yes, we often said that each man should do only one thing."

Further, we affirmed that justice was doing one’s own business, and not being a busybody; we said so again and again, and many others have said the same to us.

"We insisted that justice is minding your own business, not being a busybody. We said it over and over, and many others have told us the same."

Yes, we said so.

"Yes, that's what we said."

Then to do one’s own business in a certain way may be assumed to be justice. Can you tell me whence I derive this inference?

"So, doing your own work in a certain way can be called justice. Can you tell me how I draw that conclusion?"

I cannot, but I should like to be told.

"I can't. But I'd like to be told."

Because I think that this is the only virtue which remains in the State when the other virtues of temperance and courage and wisdom are abstracted; and, that this is the ultimate cause and condition of the existence of all of them, and while remaining in them is also their preservative; and we were saying that if the three were discovered by us, justice would be the fourth or remaining one.

"I think this is the only virtue left in the State after temperance, courage, and wisdom are removed. I also think it is the basic cause and condition of all of them. While it remains in them, it preserves them. We were saying that if we could identify the three, justice would be the fourth."

That follows of necessity.

"That must follow."

If we are asked to determine which of these four qualities by its presence contributes most to the excellence of the State, whether the agreement of rulers and subjects, or the preservation in the soldiers of the opinion which the law ordains about the true nature of dangers, or wisdom and watchfulness in the rulers, or whether this other which I am mentioning, and which is found in children and women, slave and freeman, artisan, ruler, subject,—the quality, I mean, of every one doing his own work, and not being a busybody, would claim the palm—the question is not so easily answered.

"If we are asked which of these four qualities most contributes to the State's excellence, we cannot answer easily. Is it agreement between rulers and subjects? Is it soldiers keeping the opinion the law prescribes about the true nature of dangers? Is it wisdom and watchfulness in the rulers? Or is it that other quality I mean? You find it in children and women, in slaves and freemen, in artisans, in rulers, and in subjects. It is everyone doing their own work and not being a busybody."

Certainly, he replied, there would be a difficulty in saying which.

"Certainly," he replied. "It would be hard to say which."

Then the power of each individual in the State to do his own work appears to compete with the other political virtues, wisdom, temperance, courage.

"Then each person's power to do their own work in the State seems to compete with the other political virtues. Those virtues are wisdom, self-control, and courage."

Yes, he said.

"Yes," he said.

And the virtue which enters into this competition is justice?

"So the virtue that takes part in this contest is justice?"

Exactly.

"Exactly."

Let us look at the question from another point of view: Are not the rulers in a State those to whom you would entrust the office of determining suits at law?

"Let's look at the question another way. Aren't the rulers of a state the ones you'd trust to judge legal cases?"

Certainly.

Certainly.

And are suits decided on any other ground but that a man may neither take what is another’s, nor be deprived of what is his own?

"And are lawsuits decided for any other reason? Is it not to prevent someone taking what belongs to another or being deprived of what is theirs?"

Yes; that is their principle.

"Yes, that's their principle."

Which is a just principle?

"Which principle is just?"

Yes.

"Yes."

Then on this view also justice will be admitted to be the having and doing what is a man’s own, and belongs to him?

"So, on this view, would justice be having and doing what belongs to a person?"

Very true.

"That's very true."

Think, now, and say whether you agree with me or not. Suppose a carpenter to be doing the business of a cobbler, or a cobbler of a carpenter; and suppose them to exchange their implements or their duties, or the same person to be doing the work of both, or whatever be the change; do you think that any great harm would result to the State?

"Now think about it and tell me if you agree. Suppose a carpenter did a cobbler's work, or a cobbler did a carpenter's. Imagine they swapped tools or duties, or one person did both jobs, or any similar change. Do you think this would cause serious harm to the State?"

Not much.

"Not much."

But when the cobbler or any other man whom nature designed to be a trader, having his heart lifted up by wealth or strength or the number of his followers, or any like advantage, attempts to force his way into the class of warriors, or a warrior into that of legislators and guardians, for which he is unfitted, and either to take the implements or the duties of the other; or when one man is trader, legislator, and warrior all in one, then I think you will agree with me in saying that this interchange and this meddling of one with another is the ruin of the State.

"But when a cobbler or any man whom nature made a trader grows proud from wealth, power, or followers. He may try to force his way into the warrior class. Or a warrior may try to become a legislator or guardian even though he is unfit. He might take the other's tools or try to do their duties. Or when one person combines trader, legislator, and warrior. You will agree this mixing and meddling of roles ruins the State."

Most true.

"Very true."

Seeing then, I said, that there are three distinct classes, any meddling of one with another, or the change of one into another, is the greatest harm to the State, and may be most justly termed evil-doing?

"So I said, there are three distinct classes. Isn't any meddling between them, or one turning into another, the greatest harm to the State? It can rightly be called wrongdoing."

Precisely.

"Exactly."

And the greatest degree of evil-doing to one’s own city would be termed by you injustice?

"So the worst harm you could do to your own city would be called injustice?"

Certainly.

"Certainly."

This then is injustice; and on the other hand when the trader, the auxiliary, and the guardian each do their own business, that is justice, and will make the city just.

"So this is injustice. On the other hand, when the trader, the auxiliary, and the guardian each do their own job, that is justice. It will make the city just."

I agree with you.

"I agree with you."

We will not, I said, be over-positive as yet; but if, on trial, this conception of justice be verified in the individual as well as in the State, there will be no longer any room for doubt; if it be not verified, we must have a fresh enquiry. First let us complete the old investigation, which we began, as you remember, under the impression that, if we could previously examine justice on the larger scale, there would be less difficulty in discerning her in the individual. That larger example appeared to be the State, and accordingly we constructed as good a one as we could, knowing well that in the good State justice would be found. Let the discovery which we made be now applied to the individual—if they agree, we shall be satisfied; or, if there be a difference in the individual, we will come back to the State and have another trial of the theory. The friction of the two when rubbed together may possibly strike a light in which justice will shine forth, and the vision which is then revealed we will fix in our souls.

"We won't be too confident yet," I said. "If testing shows this idea of justice holds for both the individual and the State, there will be no doubt. If it doesn't, we'll need a new inquiry. First, let's finish the earlier investigation we began, as you remember. We thought that if we examined justice on a larger scale first, it would be easier to find in the individual. The larger example was the State. So we built the best one we could, expecting to find justice there. Now let's apply what we found to the individual. If they agree, we'll be satisfied. If they differ, we'll return to the State and test the theory again. By comparing them, we might spark a light that shows justice clearly. We'll then fix that vision in our souls."

That will be in regular course; let us do as you say.

"That will come in due course. Let's do as you say."

I proceeded to ask: When two things, a greater and less, are called by the same name, are they like or unlike in so far as they are called the same?

"I asked, 'If a larger thing and a smaller thing share the same name, are they alike in that way?'"

Like, he replied.

"Like," he said.

The just man then, if we regard the idea of justice only, will be like the just State?

"So, if we consider justice alone, the just man will resemble the just State?"

He will.

"He will."

And a State was thought by us to be just when the three classes in the State severally did their own business; and also thought to be temperate and valiant and wise by reason of certain other affections and qualities of these same classes?

"Do we think a State is just when its three classes each do their own work? And do we call it temperate, brave, and wise because of certain feelings and qualities in those same classes?"

True, he said.

"That's true," he said.

And so of the individual; we may assume that he has the same three principles in his own soul which are found in the State; and he may be rightly described in the same terms, because he is affected in the same manner?

"So what about the individual? May we assume he has the same three principles in his soul that we find in the State? Can we rightly describe him in the same terms, since he is affected in the same way?"

Certainly, he said.

"Certainly," he said.

Once more then, O my friend, we have alighted upon an easy question—whether the soul has these three principles or not?

"Once more, then, my friend, we come to an easy question. Does the soul have these three principles or not?"

An easy question! Nay, rather, Socrates, the proverb holds that hard is the good.

"An easy question! No, Socrates. The proverb says that the good is hard."

Very true, I said; and I do not think that the method which we are employing is at all adequate to the accurate solution of this question; the true method is another and a longer one. Still we may arrive at a solution not below the level of the previous enquiry.

"Very true," I said. "I don't think the method we're using can accurately solve this question. The right method is different and much longer. Still, we can reach a solution at least as good as our previous inquiry."

May we not be satisfied with that? he said;—under the circumstances, I am quite content.

"May we not be satisfied with that?" he said. "Under the circumstances, I am quite content."

I too, I replied, shall be extremely well satisfied.

"I will be very satisfied too," I replied.

Then faint not in pursuing the speculation, he said.

"Don't give up pursuing this line of thought," he said.

Must we not acknowledge, I said, that in each of us there are the same principles and habits which there are in the State; and that from the individual they pass into the State?—how else can they come there? Take the quality of passion or spirit;—it would be ridiculous to imagine that this quality, when found in States, is not derived from the individuals who are supposed to possess it, e.g. the Thracians, Scythians, and in general the northern nations; and the same may be said of the love of knowledge, which is the special characteristic of our part of the world, or of the love of money, which may, with equal truth, be attributed to the Phoenicians and Egyptians.

"Must we not acknowledge," I said, "that each of us has the same principles and habits as the State? And that they pass from individuals into the State? How else would they get there? Consider the quality of spirit or passion. It would be ridiculous to think this quality in a State does not come from the people who have it. Think of the Thracians, the Scythians, and the northern nations in general. The same goes for the love of knowledge, which especially marks our region. And the love of money we can equally attribute to the Phoenicians and the Egyptians."

Exactly so, he said.

"Exactly," he said.

There is no difficulty in understanding this.

"This is easy to understand."

None whatever.

"None at all."

But the question is not quite so easy when we proceed to ask whether these principles are three or one; whether, that is to say, we learn with one part of our nature, are angry with another, and with a third part desire the satisfaction of our natural appetites; or whether the whole soul comes into play in each sort of action—to determine that is the difficulty.

"But the question isn't so simple when we ask whether these principles are three or one. Do we learn with one part of our nature and get angry with another? Do we seek to satisfy our bodily appetites with a third? Or does the whole soul come into play in every kind of action? That is the difficulty."

Yes, he said; there lies the difficulty.

"Yes," he said. "That's where the difficulty lies."

Then let us now try and determine whether they are the same or different.

"Let's now try to determine whether they are the same or different."

How can we? he asked.

"How can we?" he asked.

I replied as follows: The same thing clearly cannot act or be acted upon in the same part or in relation to the same thing at the same time, in contrary ways; and therefore whenever this contradiction occurs in things apparently the same, we know that they are really not the same, but different.

I replied as follows: "Clearly, the same thing cannot act and be acted on at the same time in the same part or respect. It cannot be in opposing states toward the same thing at once. So when we see that contradiction in things that seem the same, we know they are actually different."

Good.

"Good."

For example, I said, can the same thing be at rest and in motion at the same time in the same part?

"For example," I said. "Can something be at rest and moving at the same time in the same part?"

Impossible.

"Impossible."

Still, I said, let us have a more precise statement of terms, lest we should hereafter fall out by the way. Imagine the case of a man who is standing and also moving his hands and his head, and suppose a person to say that one and the same person is in motion and at rest at the same moment—to such a mode of speech we should object, and should rather say that one part of him is in motion while another is at rest.

"Still," I said, "let's define our terms more precisely, so we don't argue later. Imagine a man who is standing but also moving his hands and his head. Suppose someone says the same person is both moving and at rest at the same time. We would object to that way of speaking. We'd say instead that one part of him is moving while another part is at rest."

Very true.

"Very true."

And suppose the objector to refine still further, and to draw the nice distinction that not only parts of tops, but whole tops, when they spin round with their pegs fixed on the spot, are at rest and in motion at the same time (and he may say the same of anything which revolves in the same spot), his objection would not be admitted by us, because in such cases things are not at rest and in motion in the same parts of themselves; we should rather say that they have both an axis and a circumference, and that the axis stands still, for there is no deviation from the perpendicular; and that the circumference goes round. But if, while revolving, the axis inclines either to the right or left, forwards or backwards, then in no point of view can they be at rest.

"Suppose an objector pushes further and draws a fine distinction. He claims that whole tops, not just parts, when they spin with their pegs fixed in one spot, are both at rest and in motion. He might say the same about anything that revolves in place. We would not accept that objection. In such cases, things are not at rest and in motion in the same parts of themselves. Instead, we would say they have an axis and a circumference. The axis stands still because it does not lean away from the vertical, and the circumference goes round. But if the axis tilts to the right or left, forward or backward while the top spins, then they cannot be considered at rest in any sense."

That is the correct mode of describing them, he replied.

"That's the right way to describe them," he replied.

Then none of these objections will confuse us, or incline us to believe that the same thing at the same time, in the same part or in relation to the same thing, can act or be acted upon in contrary ways.

"Then none of these objections will confuse us. They will not make us think that the same thing can act and be acted on in opposite ways. That would require it to do so at the same time, in the same part, or in relation to the same thing."

Certainly not, according to my way of thinking.

"Certainly not, in my opinion."

Yet, I said, that we may not be compelled to examine all such objections, and prove at length that they are untrue, let us assume their absurdity, and go forward on the understanding that hereafter, if this assumption turn out to be untrue, all the consequences which follow shall be withdrawn.

I said, "We need not examine every objection or prove at length that it is false. Let's assume, for now, they are absurd and move on. If this assumption later proves false, we will withdraw any consequences that followed."

Yes, he said, that will be the best way.

"Yes," he said. "That will be the best way."

Well, I said, would you not allow that assent and dissent, desire and aversion, attraction and repulsion, are all of them opposites, whether they are regarded as active or passive (for that makes no difference in the fact of their opposition)?

"Well, I said, wouldn't you agree that assent and dissent, desire and aversion, attraction and repulsion are all opposites? That is true whether we call them active or passive. That label does not change the fact of their opposition."

Yes, he said, they are opposites.

"Yes," he said. "They are opposites."

Well, I said, and hunger and thirst, and the desires in general, and again willing and wishing,—all these you would refer to the classes already mentioned. You would say—would you not?—that the soul of him who desires is seeking after the object of his desire; or that he is drawing to himself the thing which he wishes to possess: or again, when a person wants anything to be given him, his mind, longing for the realization of his desire, intimates his wish to have it by a nod of assent, as if he had been asked a question?

"Well," I said. "You would put hunger and thirst in the classes we already mentioned. You would put desires in general there too. You would say, wouldn't you, that the soul of anyone who desires is seeking the object of that desire? Or that the desiring person is drawing the thing they want toward them? Or again, when someone wants something given to them, their mind longs for it. It signals the wish by a nod of assent, as if someone had asked a question?"

Very true.

"That's true."

And what would you say of unwillingness and dislike and the absence of desire; should not these be referred to the opposite class of repulsion and rejection?

"And what about unwillingness, dislike, and lack of desire? Shouldn't these belong to the opposite class, repulsion and rejection?"

Certainly.

"Certainly."

Admitting this to be true of desire generally, let us suppose a particular class of desires, and out of these we will select hunger and thirst, as they are termed, which are the most obvious of them?

"If we admit this about desire in general, let us suppose a particular class of desires. Out of these, shall we choose hunger and thirst, as they are called, since they are the most obvious?"

Let us take that class, he said.

"Let's take that class," he said.

The object of one is food, and of the other drink?

"Is one concerned with food and the other with drink?"

Yes.

"Yes."

And here comes the point: is not thirst the desire which the soul has of drink, and of drink only; not of drink qualified by anything else; for example, warm or cold, or much or little, or, in a word, drink of any particular sort: but if the thirst be accompanied by heat, then the desire is of cold drink; or, if accompanied by cold, then of warm drink; or, if the thirst be excessive, then the drink which is desired will be excessive; or, if not great, the quantity of drink will also be small: but thirst pure and simple will desire drink pure and simple, which is the natural satisfaction of thirst, as food is of hunger?

"Here is the point. Isn't thirst simply the soul's desire for drink and nothing else? Not drink altered in any way. For example, not drink that is warm or cold, or much or little, or any particular kind. When the thirst comes with heat, the desire is for cold drink. When it comes with cold, the desire is for warm drink. When the thirst is excessive, the drink wanted will be excessive. When the thirst is mild, the amount will be small. But pure, simple thirst desires plain drink. That is the natural satisfaction of thirst, just as food satisfies hunger?"

Yes, he said; the simple desire is, as you say, in every case of the simple object, and the qualified desire of the qualified object.

"Yes," he said. "A simple desire, as you say, belongs to every simple object. A qualified desire belongs to a qualified object."

But here a confusion may arise; and I should wish to guard against an opponent starting up and saying that no man desires drink only, but good drink, or food only, but good food; for good is the universal object of desire, and thirst being a desire, will necessarily be thirst after good drink; and the same is true of every other desire.

"But a confusion might arise. I want to guard against someone jumping up and saying, 'No one desires drink by itself. They desire good drink. No one desires food by itself. They desire good food. Good is the universal object of desire. Thirst is a desire, so it must be thirst for good drink.' The same applies to every other desire."

Yes, he replied, the opponent might have something to say.

"Yes," he replied. "The opponent might have something to say."

Nevertheless I should still maintain, that of relatives some have a quality attached to either term of the relation; others are simple and have their correlatives simple.

"I still maintain that some relatives have a quality attached to each term of the relation. Others are simple, and their correlatives are simple."

I do not know what you mean.

"I don't know what you mean."

Well, you know of course that the greater is relative to the less?

"You know, of course, that the greater only has meaning in relation to the less?"

Certainly.

"Certainly."

And the much greater to the much less?

"And what about the much greater compared with the much less?"

Yes.

"Yes."

And the sometime greater to the sometime less, and the greater that is to be to the less that is to be?

"And the sometimes greater compared with the sometimes less? And the greater that will be compared with the less that will be?"

Certainly, he said.

"Certainly," he said.

And so of more and less, and of other correlative terms, such as the double and the half, or again, the heavier and the lighter, the swifter and the slower; and of hot and cold, and of any other relatives;—is not this true of all of them?

"The same goes for 'more' and 'less' and for other paired terms. Consider 'double' and 'half', 'heavier' and 'lighter', 'swifter' and 'slower'. It also applies to 'hot' and 'cold' and to any other opposites. Isn't that true of all of them?"

Yes.

"Yes."

And does not the same principle hold in the sciences? The object of science is knowledge (assuming that to be the true definition), but the object of a particular science is a particular kind of knowledge; I mean, for example, that the science of house-building is a kind of knowledge which is defined and distinguished from other kinds and is therefore termed architecture.

"And doesn't the same principle apply in the sciences? The aim of science is knowledge, if we accept that as its true definition. But each science aims at a specific kind of knowledge. For example, the science of house-building is a kind of knowledge defined and set apart from others. That's why we call it architecture."

Certainly.

Of course.

Because it has a particular quality which no other has?

"Because it has a quality no other has?"

Yes.

"Yes."

And it has this particular quality because it has an object of a particular kind; and this is true of the other arts and sciences?

"And it has that quality because it deals with a particular kind of object. Isn't the same true of the other arts and sciences?"

Yes.

"Yes."

Now, then, if I have made myself clear, you will understand my original meaning in what I said about relatives. My meaning was, that if one term of a relation is taken alone, the other is taken alone; if one term is qualified, the other is also qualified. I do not mean to say that relatives may not be disparate, or that the science of health is healthy, or of disease necessarily diseased, or that the sciences of good and evil are therefore good and evil; but only that, when the term science is no longer used absolutely, but has a qualified object which in this case is the nature of health and disease, it becomes defined, and is hence called not merely science, but the science of medicine.

"Now then, if I have made myself clear, you will understand what I meant about relatives. I meant that when one term of a relation is taken alone, the other is taken alone. If one term is qualified, the other is qualified too. I do not mean that related things cannot be different. I do not mean that the science of health is itself healthy, or that the science of disease is therefore diseased, or that the sciences of good and evil are themselves good or evil. I only mean that when the word 'science' is not used absolutely but applied to a specific subject—here the nature of health and disease—it becomes defined. It is then called not merely science, but the science of medicine."

I quite understand, and I think as you do.

"I understand, and I agree with you."

Would you not say that thirst is one of these essentially relative terms, having clearly a relation—

"Wouldn't you say thirst is one of those essentially relative terms, something that clearly involves a relation..."

Yes, thirst is relative to drink.

"Yes, thirst depends on the drink."

And a certain kind of thirst is relative to a certain kind of drink; but thirst taken alone is neither of much nor little, nor of good nor bad, nor of any particular kind of drink, but of drink only?

"A certain kind of thirst matches a certain kind of drink. Thirst by itself is neither great nor small, neither good nor bad, and not for any specific drink. It's just for drink in general, isn't it?"

Certainly.

"Certainly."

Then the soul of the thirsty one, in so far as he is thirsty, desires only drink; for this he yearns and tries to obtain it?

"Then the thirsty person's soul, while he is thirsty, wants only to drink. It longs for that and tries to get it?"

That is plain.

"That's clear."

And if you suppose something which pulls a thirsty soul away from drink, that must be different from the thirsty principle which draws him like a beast to drink; for, as we were saying, the same thing cannot at the same time with the same part of itself act in contrary ways about the same.

"And if you suppose something that pulls a thirsty soul away from drink, it must be different. The thirsty urge that drives him like an animal to drink is not the same. As we said, the same thing cannot act in opposite ways about the same thing. It cannot do that at the same time or in the same part of itself."

Impossible.

"That's impossible."

No more than you can say that the hands of the archer push and pull the bow at the same time, but what you say is that one hand pushes and the other pulls.

"You wouldn't say the archer's hands both push and pull the bow at the same time. You'd say one hand pushes and the other pulls."

Exactly so, he replied.

"Exactly," he replied.

And might a man be thirsty, and yet unwilling to drink?

"Could a man be thirsty and still refuse to drink?"

Yes, he said, it constantly happens.

"Yes," he said, "it happens all the time."

And in such a case what is one to say? Would you not say that there was something in the soul bidding a man to drink, and something else forbidding him, which is other and stronger than the principle which bids him?

"So what should we say in such a case? Wouldn't you say there is something in the soul urging a man to drink? Isn't there something else that forbids him, something different and stronger than that urge?"

I should say so.

"I certainly would."

And the forbidding principle is derived from reason, and that which bids and attracts proceeds from passion and disease?

"So the principle that forbids comes from reason. And what urges and attracts comes from passion and disease?"

Clearly.

"Clearly."

Then we may fairly assume that they are two, and that they differ from one another; the one with which a man reasons, we may call the rational principle of the soul, the other, with which he loves and hungers and thirsts and feels the flutterings of any other desire, may be termed the irrational or appetitive, the ally of sundry pleasures and satisfactions?

"Then we can assume there are two parts and they differ from each other. The one we use to reason we can call the rational part of the soul. Is the other the part that loves, hungers, thirsts, and feels any stirrings of desire? Is it the irrational or appetitive part, the ally of various pleasures and satisfactions?"

Yes, he said, we may fairly assume them to be different.

"Yes," he said, "we can reasonably assume they are different."

Then let us finally determine that there are two principles existing in the soul. And what of passion, or spirit? Is it a third, or akin to one of the preceding?

"Then let's finally decide that the soul has two principles. What about passion, or spirit? Is that a third, or is it like one of the first two?"

I should be inclined to say—akin to desire.

"I'd be inclined to say it's like desire."

Well, I said, there is a story which I remember to have heard, and in which I put faith. The story is, that Leontius, the son of Aglaion, coming up one day from the Piraeus, under the north wall on the outside, observed some dead bodies lying on the ground at the place of execution. He felt a desire to see them, and also a dread and abhorrence of them; for a time he struggled and covered his eyes, but at length the desire got the better of him; and forcing them open, he ran up to the dead bodies, saying, Look, ye wretches, take your fill of the fair sight.

"Well," I said, "I remember a story that I believe. It is about Leontius, the son of Aglaion. One day, coming up from the Piraeus under the north wall, he saw bodies lying at the place of execution. He felt both a desire to look and a deep revulsion. For a while he struggled and covered his eyes. At last the desire won. He forced his eyes open, ran to the bodies, and cried, 'Look, you wretches, feast your eyes on this fine sight.'"

I have heard the story myself, he said.

"I've heard that story myself," he said.

The moral of the tale is, that anger at times goes to war with desire, as though they were two distinct things.

"The moral of the tale is this. Anger sometimes goes to war with desire, as if they were two separate things."

Yes; that is the meaning, he said.

"Yes, that's what it means," he said.

And are there not many other cases in which we observe that when a man’s desires violently prevail over his reason, he reviles himself, and is angry at the violence within him, and that in this struggle, which is like the struggle of factions in a State, his spirit is on the side of his reason;—but for the passionate or spirited element to take part with the desires when reason decides that she should not be opposed, is a sort of thing which I believe that you never observed occurring in yourself, nor, as I should imagine, in any one else?

"Don't we often see cases where a person's desires overpower his reason? He then scolds himself and is angry at the violence inside him. In that struggle, like rival factions in a state, his spirited part sides with his reason. I don't think you ever noticed that in yourself, nor, I imagine, in anyone else."

Certainly not.

"Certainly not."

Suppose that a man thinks he has done a wrong to another, the nobler he is the less able is he to feel indignant at any suffering, such as hunger, or cold, or any other pain which the injured person may inflict upon him—these he deems to be just, and, as I say, his anger refuses to be excited by them.

"Suppose a man believes he has wronged another. The nobler he is, the less he feels anger at any suffering the injured person may cause him. He sees hunger, cold, or any other pain as just. As I said, those things no longer provoke his anger."

True, he said.

"True," he said.

But when he thinks that he is the sufferer of the wrong, then he boils and chafes, and is on the side of what he believes to be justice; and because he suffers hunger or cold or other pain he is only the more determined to persevere and conquer. His noble spirit will not be quelled until he either slays or is slain; or until he hears the voice of the shepherd, that is, reason, bidding his dog bark no more.

"But when he believes he is the victim of injustice, he boils with anger and resents it, and sides with what he thinks is right. Because he suffers hunger, cold, or other pain, he becomes even more determined to keep fighting and win. His noble spirit will not be calmed until he either kills or is killed. Or until he hears the shepherd's voice, reason, telling his dog to stop barking."

The illustration is perfect, he replied; and in our State, as we were saying, the auxiliaries were to be dogs, and to hear the voice of the rulers, who are their shepherds.

"The illustration is perfect," he replied. "In our State, as we said, the auxiliaries are to be dogs. They must listen to the rulers, their shepherds."

I perceive, I said, that you quite understand me; there is, however, a further point which I wish you to consider.

“I see,” I said, “that you clearly understand me. I have one more point I want you to consider.”

What point?

"What's your point?"

You remember that passion or spirit appeared at first sight to be a kind of desire, but now we should say quite the contrary; for in the conflict of the soul spirit is arrayed on the side of the rational principle.

"You remember that at first sight passion, or spirit, seemed like a kind of desire. Now we should say the opposite. In the soul's conflict, spirit sides with the rational principle."

Most assuredly.

"Certainly."

But a further question arises: Is passion different from reason also, or only a kind of reason; in which latter case, instead of three principles in the soul, there will only be two, the rational and the concupiscent; or rather, as the State was composed of three classes, traders, auxiliaries, counsellors, so may there not be in the individual soul a third element which is passion or spirit, and when not corrupted by bad education is the natural auxiliary of reason?

"But another question comes up. Is passion different from reason, or is it just a kind of reason? If it is only a kind of reason, then the soul would have two parts, not three. They would be the rational part and the desirous part. Or think of the State with its three classes, traders, auxiliaries, and counsellors. Could an individual soul also have a third element, a spirit or passion? When this element is not corrupted by bad education, it becomes the natural ally of reason."

Yes, he said, there must be a third.

"Yes," he said, "there must be a third."

Yes, I replied, if passion, which has already been shown to be different from desire, turn out also to be different from reason.

"Yes," I replied. "If passion, which we've already shown is different from desire, also proves to be different from reason."

But that is easily proved:—We may observe even in young children that they are full of spirit almost as soon as they are born, whereas some of them never seem to attain to the use of reason, and most of them late enough.

"But that is easy to prove. We see it even in young children. They are full of spirit almost from the moment they are born. Some never seem to acquire the use of reason, and most only do so quite late."

Excellent, I said, and you may see passion equally in brute animals, which is a further proof of the truth of what you are saying. And we may once more appeal to the words of Homer, which have been already quoted by us,

"Excellent," I said. "You can see passion in animals too. That further proves what you're saying. We can again appeal to Homer's words that we've already quoted."

‘He smote his breast, and thus rebuked his soul,’

"He struck his chest and rebuked his soul."

for in this verse Homer has clearly supposed the power which reasons about the better and worse to be different from the unreasoning anger which is rebuked by it.

"In this verse, Homer clearly assumes the power that reasons about better and worse is different. It is separate from the unreasoning anger that it rebukes."

Very true, he said.

"That's very true," he said.

And so, after much tossing, we have reached land, and are fairly agreed that the same principles which exist in the State exist also in the individual, and that they are three in number.

"After much tossing about, we've reached land. We agree that the same principles exist in the State and in the individual. There are three of them."

Exactly.

"Exactly."

Must we not then infer that the individual is wise in the same way, and in virtue of the same quality which makes the State wise?

"Shouldn't we infer that an individual is wise in the same way and for the same reason the State is?"

Certainly.

"Certainly."

Also that the same quality which constitutes courage in the State constitutes courage in the individual, and that both the State and the individual bear the same relation to all the other virtues?

"Isn't the quality that makes a State courageous the same quality that makes an individual courageous? And don't the State and the individual have the same relation to the other virtues?"

Assuredly.

"Certainly."

And the individual will be acknowledged by us to be just in the same way in which the State is just?

"So will we recognize an individual as just in the same way we recognize the State as just?"

That follows, of course.

"Of course it follows."

We cannot but remember that the justice of the State consisted in each of the three classes doing the work of its own class?

"We must remember that the State is just when each of its three classes does its own work, isn't it?"

We are not very likely to have forgotten, he said.

"We're very unlikely to have forgotten," he said.

We must recollect that the individual in whom the several qualities of his nature do their own work will be just, and will do his own work?

"We must remember this. The person whose parts each do their proper work will be just and do his own work?"

Yes, he said, we must remember that too.

"Yes," he said. "We must remember that too."

And ought not the rational principle, which is wise, and has the care of the whole soul, to rule, and the passionate or spirited principle to be the subject and ally?

"Shouldn't the rational part, the wise part that cares for the whole soul, rule? And shouldn't the spirited part be its subject and ally?"

Certainly.

"Certainly."

And, as we were saying, the united influence of music and gymnastic will bring them into accord, nerving and sustaining the reason with noble words and lessons, and moderating and soothing and civilizing the wildness of passion by harmony and rhythm?

"As we were saying, won't the combined influence of music and physical training bring them into harmony? It will strengthen and steady reason with noble words and lessons. It will also moderate, soothe, and civilize the wildness of passion through harmony and rhythm."

Quite true, he said.

"That's true," he said.

And these two, thus nurtured and educated, and having learned truly to know their own functions, will rule over the concupiscent, which in each of us is the largest part of the soul and by nature most insatiable of gain; over this they will keep guard, lest, waxing great and strong with the fulness of bodily pleasures, as they are termed, the concupiscent soul, no longer confined to her own sphere, should attempt to enslave and rule those who are not her natural-born subjects, and overturn the whole life of man?

"And these two will rule the appetitive part of the soul. They must be properly raised and trained and know their true roles. This part is the largest in each of us and is naturally the most greedy. They will keep watch over it. Won't they guard it so it does not grow large and strong on bodily pleasures and leave its proper place? If it did, it would try to enslave and rule those who are not its natural subjects. It would overturn a person's whole life."

Very true, he said.

"Very true," he said.

Both together will they not be the best defenders of the whole soul and the whole body against attacks from without; the one counselling, and the other fighting under his leader, and courageously executing his commands and counsels?

"Won't they be the best defenders of both the soul and the body against attacks from outside? One will advise. The other will fight under their leader and bravely carry out their commands and advice."

True.

"That's true."

And he is to be deemed courageous whose spirit retains in pleasure and in pain the commands of reason about what he ought or ought not to fear?

"Is someone courageous when their spirit, in pleasure and pain, obeys reason's commands? Specifically, when it follows reason about what they should or should not fear?"

Right, he replied.

"Right," he replied.

And him we call wise who has in him that little part which rules, and which proclaims these commands; that part too being supposed to have a knowledge of what is for the interest of each of the three parts and of the whole?

"And we call him wise who has that small ruling part inside him that gives those commands. Is that part supposed to know what benefits each of the three parts and the whole?"

Assuredly.

"Certainly."

And would you not say that he is temperate who has these same elements in friendly harmony, in whom the one ruling principle of reason, and the two subject ones of spirit and desire are equally agreed that reason ought to rule, and do not rebel?

"Wouldn't you call someone temperate who has these same elements living in friendly harmony? The ruling part, reason, and the two lower parts, spirit and desire, all agree that reason should rule. They do not rebel."

Certainly, he said, that is the true account of temperance whether in the State or individual.

"Certainly," he said. "That is the true account of temperance in the State and in the individual."

And surely, I said, we have explained again and again how and by virtue of what quality a man will be just.

"Surely," I said, "we have repeatedly explained how a man becomes just and what quality makes him so."

That is very certain.

"That's definitely true."

And is justice dimmer in the individual, and is her form different, or is she the same which we found her to be in the State?

"Is justice weaker in the individual? Is her form different, or is she the same as we found in the State?"

There is no difference in my opinion, he said.

"I don't see any difference," he said.

Because, if any doubt is still lingering in our minds, a few commonplace instances will satisfy us of the truth of what I am saying.

"If any doubt still lingers, a few ordinary examples will convince us. They will show that what I am saying is true."

What sort of instances do you mean?

"What kind of examples do you mean?"

If the case is put to us, must we not admit that the just State, or the man who is trained in the principles of such a State, will be less likely than the unjust to make away with a deposit of gold or silver? Would any one deny this?

"If we put the case that way, must we not admit it? A just state, or a person trained in its principles, is less likely than an unjust one to take a deposit. Would anyone deny that?"

No one, he replied.

"No one," he said.

Will the just man or citizen ever be guilty of sacrilege or theft, or treachery either to his friends or to his country?

"Would a just person or citizen ever commit sacrilege or theft? Or betray their friends or their country?"

Never.

"Never."

Neither will he ever break faith where there have been oaths or agreements?

"He will never break his word when oaths or agreements have been made?"

Impossible.

"Impossible."

No one will be less likely to commit adultery, or to dishonour his father and mother, or to fail in his religious duties?

"Won't people then be less likely to commit adultery, dishonor their parents, or neglect their religious duties?"

No one.

"No one."

And the reason is that each part of him is doing its own business, whether in ruling or being ruled?

"And the reason is that each part of him is doing its own job, either ruling or being ruled?"

Exactly so.

"Exactly."

Are you satisfied then that the quality which makes such men and such states is justice, or do you hope to discover some other?

"So are you satisfied that the quality that makes such men and such states is justice? Or do you hope to find some other quality?"

Not I, indeed.

"Not me."

Then our dream has been realized; and the suspicion which we entertained at the beginning of our work of construction, that some divine power must have conducted us to a primary form of justice, has now been verified?

"So our dream has come true? Was the suspicion we had at the start of our project right? Did some divine power guide us to a first form of justice?"

Yes, certainly.

"Yes, of course."

And the division of labour which required the carpenter and the shoemaker and the rest of the citizens to be doing each his own business, and not another’s, was a shadow of justice, and for that reason it was of use?

"The division of labor made the carpenter, the shoemaker, and the other citizens each do their own work, not someone else's. That was only a shadow of justice, so it was useful for that reason, wasn't it?"

Clearly.

"Of course."

But in reality justice was such as we were describing, being concerned however, not with the outward man, but with the inward, which is the true self and concernment of man: for the just man does not permit the several elements within him to interfere with one another, or any of them to do the work of others,—he sets in order his own inner life, and is his own master and his own law, and at peace with himself; and when he has bound together the three principles within him, which may be compared to the higher, lower, and middle notes of the scale, and the intermediate intervals—when he has bound all these together, and is no longer many, but has become one entirely temperate and perfectly adjusted nature, then he proceeds to act, if he has to act, whether in a matter of property, or in the treatment of the body, or in some affair of politics or private business; always thinking and calling that which preserves and co-operates with this harmonious condition, just and good action, and the knowledge which presides over it, wisdom, and that which at any time impairs this condition, he will call unjust action, and the opinion which presides over it ignorance.

"But in reality, justice is what we described. It concerns the inner self, not outward appearance. This inner self is a person's true concern. A just person does not let the different parts inside him interfere with one another. He does not let any part do another's work. He puts his inner life in order. He is his own master and his own rule, and he is at peace with himself. When he has united the three parts inside him, they are like the high, low, and middle notes of a scale, including the intervals between them. When he is no longer many parts but one balanced, temperate nature, he acts when action is needed. Whether handling property, caring for his body, dealing with politics, or managing private affairs, he regards whatever preserves and supports this harmony as just and good. He calls the knowledge that guides these actions wisdom. He calls anything that damages this harmony unjust, and the opinion behind it ignorance."

You have said the exact truth, Socrates.

"You're exactly right, Socrates."

Very good; and if we were to affirm that we had discovered the just man and the just State, and the nature of justice in each of them, we should not be telling a falsehood?

"Very good. Suppose we say we've found the just man and the just State. Suppose we've also found the nature of justice in each. Would that be false?"

Most certainly not.

"Absolutely not."

May we say so, then?

"Can we say that, then?"

Let us say so.

"Let's say that."

And now, I said, injustice has to be considered.

"And now," I said, "we must consider injustice."

Clearly.

"Clearly."

Must not injustice be a strife which arises among the three principles—a meddlesomeness, and interference, and rising up of a part of the soul against the whole, an assertion of unlawful authority, which is made by a rebellious subject against a true prince, of whom he is the natural vassal,—what is all this confusion and delusion but injustice, and intemperance and cowardice and ignorance, and every form of vice?

"Must not injustice be a strife that arises among the three principles? A meddling and interference. A part of the soul rising up against the whole. An unlawful claim to authority by a rebellious subject against his true prince, whom he should naturally serve. What is this confusion and delusion but injustice, intemperance, cowardice, ignorance, and every kind of vice?"

Exactly so.

"Exactly so."

And if the nature of justice and injustice be known, then the meaning of acting unjustly and being unjust, or, again, of acting justly, will also be perfectly clear?

"If we know the nature of justice and injustice, won't it be clear what acting unjustly or being unjust means? And likewise what acting justly means?"

What do you mean? he said.

"What do you mean?" he said.

Why, I said, they are like disease and health; being in the soul just what disease and health are in the body.

"Why," I said, "they are like illness and health. They are in the soul just as illness and health are in the body."

How so? he said.

"How so?" he asked.

Why, I said, that which is healthy causes health, and that which is unhealthy causes disease.

"Why," I said, "what is healthy produces health. What is unhealthy produces disease."

Yes.

"Yes."

And just actions cause justice, and unjust actions cause injustice?

"Do just actions lead to justice, and unjust actions lead to injustice?"

That is certain.

"That's certain."

And the creation of health is the institution of a natural order and government of one by another in the parts of the body; and the creation of disease is the production of a state of things at variance with this natural order?

"Isn't health the establishment of a natural order in which the body's parts govern one another? Isn't disease a condition that conflicts with that natural order?"

True.

"True."

And is not the creation of justice the institution of a natural order and government of one by another in the parts of the soul, and the creation of injustice the production of a state of things at variance with the natural order?

"Isn't creating justice the establishment of a natural order, with one part of the soul ruling the others? And isn't creating injustice producing a state in which the parts of the soul go against that natural order?"

Exactly so, he said.

"Exactly so," he said.

Then virtue is the health and beauty and well-being of the soul, and vice the disease and weakness and deformity of the same?

"So virtue is the soul's health, beauty, and well-being. Vice is its disease, weakness, and deformity?"

True.

"True."

And do not good practices lead to virtue, and evil practices to vice?

"Don't good habits lead to virtue, and bad habits to vice?"

Assuredly.

"Certainly."

Still our old question of the comparative advantage of justice and injustice has not been answered: Which is the more profitable, to be just and act justly and practise virtue, whether seen or unseen of gods and men, or to be unjust and act unjustly, if only unpunished and unreformed?

"We still haven't answered our old question about the comparative advantage of justice and injustice. Which is more profitable? To be just, act justly, and practice virtue, whether seen or unseen by gods and men? Or is it better to be unjust and act unjustly, as long as you go unpunished and unreformed?"

In my judgment, Socrates, the question has now become ridiculous. We know that, when the bodily constitution is gone, life is no longer endurable, though pampered with all kinds of meats and drinks, and having all wealth and all power; and shall we be told that when the very essence of the vital principle is undermined and corrupted, life is still worth having to a man, if only he be allowed to do whatever he likes with the single exception that he is not to acquire justice and virtue, or to escape from injustice and vice; assuming them both to be such as we have described?

"I think, Socrates, this question has become ridiculous. We know that when the body is ruined, life is no longer bearable. This is true even if a person is pampered with every kind of food and drink. It is also true if he has all wealth and all power. So are we to be told that when the very essence of the soul is undermined and corrupted, life is still worth having? Even if the person may do whatever he likes, with the single restriction that he cannot acquire justice and virtue or escape injustice and vice? That is, assuming those things are as we described."

Yes, I said, the question is, as you say, ridiculous. Still, as we are near the spot at which we may see the truth in the clearest manner with our own eyes, let us not faint by the way.

"Yes," I said. "The question is ridiculous, as you say. Still, we're close to the place where we can see the truth most clearly with our own eyes. Let's not lose heart along the way."

Certainly not, he replied.

"Certainly not," he replied.

Come up hither, I said, and behold the various forms of vice, those of them, I mean, which are worth looking at.

"Come up here," I said, "and look at the different kinds of vice, the ones worth seeing."

I am following you, he replied: proceed.

"I'm following you," he replied. "Go on."

I said, The argument seems to have reached a height from which, as from some tower of speculation, a man may look down and see that virtue is one, but that the forms of vice are innumerable; there being four special ones which are deserving of note.

I said, "The argument has climbed high. Like someone in a watchtower, you can look down and see that virtue is one. The forms of vice are countless. Four deserve special attention."

What do you mean? he said.

"What do you mean?" he said.

I mean, I replied, that there appear to be as many forms of the soul as there are distinct forms of the State.

"I mean," I replied. "There seem to be as many kinds of soul as there are distinct forms of the State."

How many?

"How many?"

There are five of the State, and five of the soul, I said.

"There are five parts of the State and five parts of the soul," I said.

What are they?

"What are they?"

The first, I said, is that which we have been describing, and which may be said to have two names, monarchy and aristocracy, accordingly as rule is exercised by one distinguished man or by many.

I said, "The first is what we've been describing. It has two names: monarchy and aristocracy. The difference depends on whether rule is by one outstanding person or by many."

True, he replied.

"That's true," he said.

But I regard the two names as describing one form only; for whether the government is in the hands of one or many, if the governors have been trained in the manner which we have supposed, the fundamental laws of the State will be maintained.

"But I see those two names as describing the same form. Whether power rests with one person or with many, the state's basic laws will be kept. This only holds if the rulers are trained as we assumed."

That is true, he replied.

"That's true," he said.