Such is the good and true City or State, and the good and true man is of the same pattern; and if this is right every other is wrong; and the evil is one which affects not only the ordering of the State, but also the regulation of the individual soul, and is exhibited in four forms.
"This is the good and true City or State. The good and true man follows the same pattern. If this is right, every other is wrong. The evil affects not only the ordering of the State but also the regulation of the individual soul. It appears in four forms."
What are they? he said.
"What are they?" he said.
I was proceeding to tell the order in which the four evil forms appeared to me to succeed one another, when Polemarchus, who was sitting a little way off, just beyond Adeimantus, began to whisper to him: stretching forth his hand, he took hold of the upper part of his coat by the shoulder, and drew him towards him, leaning forward himself so as to be quite close and saying something in his ear, of which I only caught the words, ‘Shall we let him off, or what shall we do?’
I was about to describe the order in which the four evil forms appeared to me. Polemarchus, who sat a little way off just beyond Adeimantus, began whispering to him. Reaching out, he grabbed the shoulder of his coat and pulled him closer. He leaned in and whispered something in his ear. I only caught the words, "Shall we let him off, or what shall we do?"
Certainly not, said Adeimantus, raising his voice.
"Certainly not," Adeimantus said, raising his voice.
Who is it, I said, whom you are refusing to let off?
"Who are you refusing to let go?" I asked.
You, he said.
"You," he said.
I repeated, Why am I especially not to be let off?
I repeated, "Why especially should I not be let off?"
Why, he said, we think that you are lazy, and mean to cheat us out of a whole chapter which is a very important part of the story; and you fancy that we shall not notice your airy way of proceeding; as if it were self-evident to everybody, that in the matter of women and children ‘friends have all things in common.’
"Why," he said, "we think you are lazy and mean to cheat us out of a whole chapter. That chapter is a very important part of the story. You seem to expect we won't notice your casual way of skipping it. As if it were obvious to everyone. When it comes to women and children, you act as if 'friends have all things in common.' "
And was I not right, Adeimantus?
"Wasn't I right, Adeimantus?"
Yes, he said; but what is right in this particular case, like everything else, requires to be explained; for community may be of many kinds. Please, therefore, to say what sort of community you mean. We have been long expecting that you would tell us something about the family life of your citizens—how they will bring children into the world, and rear them when they have arrived, and, in general, what is the nature of this community of women and children—for we are of opinion that the right or wrong management of such matters will have a great and paramount influence on the State for good or for evil. And now, since the question is still undetermined, and you are taking in hand another State, we have resolved, as you heard, not to let you go until you give an account of all this.
"Yes," he said, "but what is right in this particular case, like everything else, needs to be explained. Community can be many different things. So please say what sort of community you mean. We have long expected you to tell us about your citizens' family life. How will they bring children into the world? How will they raise them once born? In general, what is the nature of this community of women and children? We think handling these matters right or wrong will have a great impact on the State. It will affect it for good or for evil. Now the question is still undecided, and you are about to describe another State. As you heard, we have decided not to let you go until you account for all this."
To that resolution, said Glaucon, you may regard me as saying Agreed.
"On that decision," said Glaucon, "you can consider me agreed."
And without more ado, said Thrasymachus, you may consider us all to be equally agreed.
"Without further ado," Thrasymachus said, "you may consider us all equally agreed."
I said, You know not what you are doing in thus assailing me: What an argument are you raising about the State! Just as I thought that I had finished, and was only too glad that I had laid this question to sleep, and was reflecting how fortunate I was in your acceptance of what I then said, you ask me to begin again at the very foundation, ignorant of what a hornet’s nest of words you are stirring. Now I foresaw this gathering trouble, and avoided it.
I said, "You don't know what you're doing attacking me like this. What an argument about the State you're raising!" I thought I had finished. I was relieved to have put this question to rest. I was even pleased that you accepted what I had said. Then you ask me to begin again at the very foundation. You don't realize the hornet's nest of words you are stirring up. I had foreseen this trouble and avoided it.
For what purpose do you conceive that we have come here, said Thrasymachus,—to look for gold, or to hear discourse?
"Why do you think we came here?" said Thrasymachus. "To look for gold? Or to listen to a discussion?"
Yes, but discourse should have a limit.
"Yes, but discussion should have a limit."
Yes, Socrates, said Glaucon, and the whole of life is the only limit which wise men assign to the hearing of such discourses. But never mind about us; take heart yourself and answer the question in your own way: What sort of community of women and children is this which is to prevail among our guardians? and how shall we manage the period between birth and education, which seems to require the greatest care? Tell us how these things will be.
"Yes, Socrates," Glaucon said. "The only limit wise people set on listening to such discussions is a person's whole life. Don't worry about us. Speak up and answer in your own way. What kind of community of women and children should prevail among our guardians? How should we handle the time between birth and schooling? That period seems to need the most care. Tell us how these things will be."
Yes, my simple friend, but the answer is the reverse of easy; many more doubts arise about this than about our previous conclusions. For the practicability of what is said may be doubted; and looked at in another point of view, whether the scheme, if ever so practicable, would be for the best, is also doubtful. Hence I feel a reluctance to approach the subject, lest our aspiration, my dear friend, should turn out to be a dream only.
"Yes, my simple friend. The answer is anything but easy. It raises more doubts than our earlier conclusions did. We can doubt whether what I suggest is practical. Viewed another way, even if the plan were practical, it might not be for the best. I therefore hesitate to take up the subject, my dear friend. I fear our hope may prove to be nothing but a dream."
Fear not, he replied, for your audience will not be hard upon you; they are not sceptical or hostile.
"Don't worry," he replied. "Your audience won't be hard on you. They're not skeptical or hostile."
I said: My good friend, I suppose that you mean to encourage me by these words.
I said, "My good friend, I suppose you mean to encourage me with those words."
Yes, he said.
"Yes," he said.
Then let me tell you that you are doing just the reverse; the encouragement which you offer would have been all very well had I myself believed that I knew what I was talking about: to declare the truth about matters of high interest which a man honours and loves among wise men who love him need occasion no fear or faltering in his mind; but to carry on an argument when you are yourself only a hesitating enquirer, which is my condition, is a dangerous and slippery thing; and the danger is not that I shall be laughed at (of which the fear would be childish), but that I shall miss the truth where I have most need to be sure of my footing, and drag my friends after me in my fall. And I pray Nemesis not to visit upon me the words which I am going to utter. For I do indeed believe that to be an involuntary homicide is a less crime than to be a deceiver about beauty or goodness or justice in the matter of laws. And that is a risk which I would rather run among enemies than among friends, and therefore you do well to encourage me.
"You're actually doing the opposite. Your encouragement would be fine if I really believed I knew what I was talking about. To state the truth about important things you honor and love, among wise friends who love you, should not cause fear or hesitation. But to argue when you are only a hesitant questioner, as I am, is dangerous and slippery. The danger is not that I will be laughed at — that fear would be childish. The real danger is that I might miss the truth where I most need firm footing, and drag my friends down with me. I pray Nemesis not to punish me for what I am about to say. I do believe that an accidental killing is a lesser crime than deceiving others about beauty, goodness, or justice in matters of law. I would rather take that risk among enemies than among friends, so you do well to encourage me."
Glaucon laughed and said: Well then, Socrates, in case you and your argument do us any serious injury you shall be acquitted beforehand of the homicide, and shall not be held to be a deceiver; take courage then and speak.
Glaucon laughed and said, "All right then, Socrates. If you and your argument do us any serious harm, we'll clear you in advance of any murder charge and won't call you a deceiver. So be brave and speak."
Well, I said, the law says that when a man is acquitted he is free from guilt, and what holds at law may hold in argument.
"Well," I said, "the law says that when a man is acquitted he is free of guilt. What applies in law might also apply in argument."
Then why should you mind?
"Then why should you care?"
Well, I replied, I suppose that I must retrace my steps and say what I perhaps ought to have said before in the proper place. The part of the men has been played out, and now properly enough comes the turn of the women. Of them I will proceed to speak, and the more readily since I am invited by you.
"Well," I said, "I suppose I must go back and say what I probably should have said earlier in the proper place. The men's part is over. Now it is right that the women should have their turn. I will speak about them, especially since you invited me."
For men born and educated like our citizens, the only way, in my opinion, of arriving at a right conclusion about the possession and use of women and children is to follow the path on which we originally started, when we said that the men were to be the guardians and watchdogs of the herd.
"For men born and educated like our citizens, I think we must return to our original path. That is the only way to decide correctly about the possession and use of women and children. We began by saying the men would be the guardians and watchdogs of the herd."
True.
"True."
Let us further suppose the birth and education of our women to be subject to similar or nearly similar regulations; then we shall see whether the result accords with our design.
"Let's also suppose that the birth and education of our women are governed by similar rules. Then we'll see whether the result matches our plan."
What do you mean?
"What do you mean?"
What I mean may be put into the form of a question, I said: Are dogs divided into hes and shes, or do they both share equally in hunting and in keeping watch and in the other duties of dogs? or do we entrust to the males the entire and exclusive care of the flocks, while we leave the females at home, under the idea that the bearing and suckling their puppies is labour enough for them?
I said, "Can dogs be divided into males and females, or do both sexes share hunting, guarding, and other duties equally? Or do we give the males the whole job of tending the flocks? Do we keep the females at home, thinking that bearing and nursing puppies is work enough for them?"
No, he said, they share alike; the only difference between them is that the males are stronger and the females weaker.
"No," he said. "They share equally. The only difference is that the males are stronger and the females are weaker."
But can you use different animals for the same purpose, unless they are bred and fed in the same way?
"But can you use different animals for the same purpose unless they are raised and fed in the same way?"
You cannot.
"You can't."
Then, if women are to have the same duties as men, they must have the same nurture and education?
"So if women are to have the same duties as men, they must have the same upbringing and education?"
Yes.
"Yes."
The education which was assigned to the men was music and gymnastic.
The men's education was music and gymnastics.
Yes.
"Yes."
Then women must be taught music and gymnastic and also the art of war, which they must practise like the men?
"Then women must be taught music, gymnastics, and the art of war, and must practice them just like the men?"
That is the inference, I suppose.
"I suppose that's the conclusion."
I should rather expect, I said, that several of our proposals, if they are carried out, being unusual, may appear ridiculous.
I said, "I would expect some of our proposals to seem ridiculous if we carry them out. They are unusual."
No doubt of it.
"No doubt about it."
Yes, and the most ridiculous thing of all will be the sight of women naked in the palaestra, exercising with the men, especially when they are no longer young; they certainly will not be a vision of beauty, any more than the enthusiastic old men who in spite of wrinkles and ugliness continue to frequent the gymnasia.
"Yes. The most ridiculous thing will be seeing women naked in the palaestra, exercising with men. Especially when they are no longer young. They will not be a vision of beauty. Think of those eager old men who, despite wrinkles and ugliness, still go to the gymnasia."
Yes, indeed, he said: according to present notions the proposal would be thought ridiculous.
"Yes, indeed," he said. "By today's standards, people would find the proposal ridiculous."
But then, I said, as we have determined to speak our minds, we must not fear the jests of the wits which will be directed against this sort of innovation; how they will talk of women’s attainments both in music and gymnastic, and above all about their wearing armour and riding upon horseback!
"But now," I said, "since we've decided to speak our minds. We must not fear the jokes clever people will make about this change. They will mock women's achievements in music and in gymnastics. Above all, they will sneer at women wearing armor and riding horses."
Very true, he replied.
"That's very true," he replied.
Yet having begun we must go forward to the rough places of the law; at the same time begging of these gentlemen for once in their life to be serious. Not long ago, as we shall remind them, the Hellenes were of the opinion, which is still generally received among the barbarians, that the sight of a naked man was ridiculous and improper; and when first the Cretans and then the Lacedaemonians introduced the custom, the wits of that day might equally have ridiculed the innovation.
"Now that we've begun, we must move on to the hard parts of the law. At the same time, I ask these gentlemen to be serious for once. Not long ago, as we'll remind them, the Hellenes held a belief that many barbarians still hold. They thought seeing a naked man was ridiculous and improper. When the Cretans first, and later the Lacedaemonians, adopted the custom, the wits of the day might well have mocked the change."
No doubt.
"No doubt."
But when experience showed that to let all things be uncovered was far better than to cover them up, and the ludicrous effect to the outward eye vanished before the better principle which reason asserted, then the man was perceived to be a fool who directs the shafts of his ridicule at any other sight but that of folly and vice, or seriously inclines to weigh the beautiful by any other standard but that of the good.
"But experience showed that letting everything be revealed was far better than hiding it. The ridiculous appearance to the eye faded when reason's higher principle took hold. Then a man who aimed his ridicule at anything but folly and vice was seen as a fool. He was also a fool if he tried to judge beauty by any standard other than the good."
Very true, he replied.
"That's very true," he said.
First, then, whether the question is to be put in jest or in earnest, let us come to an understanding about the nature of woman: Is she capable of sharing either wholly or partially in the actions of men, or not at all? And is the art of war one of those arts in which she can or can not share? That will be the best way of commencing the enquiry, and will probably lead to the fairest conclusion.
"First, then." he said. "Whether we mean the question as a joke or seriously, let's agree on the nature of woman. Can she share, fully or partly, in the actions of men, or not at all? And is the art of war one of those skills she can share in or not? This is the best way to begin the inquiry. It will likely lead to the fairest conclusion."
That will be much the best way.
"That will be by far the best way."
Shall we take the other side first and begin by arguing against ourselves; in this manner the adversary’s position will not be undefended.
"Shall we take the other side first and argue against ourselves? That way the adversary's position will not be left undefended."
Why not? he said.
"Why not?" he said.
Then let us put a speech into the mouths of our opponents. They will say: ‘Socrates and Glaucon, no adversary need convict you, for you yourselves, at the first foundation of the State, admitted the principle that everybody was to do the one work suited to his own nature.’ And certainly, if I am not mistaken, such an admission was made by us. ‘And do not the natures of men and women differ very much indeed?’ And we shall reply: Of course they do. Then we shall be asked, ‘Whether the tasks assigned to men and to women should not be different, and such as are agreeable to their different natures?’ Certainly they should. ‘But if so, have you not fallen into a serious inconsistency in saying that men and women, whose natures are so entirely different, ought to perform the same actions?’—What defence will you make for us, my good Sir, against any one who offers these objections?
"Let's put words into our opponents' mouths. They'll say, 'Socrates and Glaucon, no one needs to accuse you. At the founding of the State you agreed that everyone should do the one job that fits their nature.' And yes, I think we did admit that. 'Don't men's and women's natures differ very much?' we would reply, 'Of course they do.' Then they'll ask, 'Shouldn't the tasks given to men and women be different and suited to their different natures?' We would say, 'Yes, they should.' 'But if that's so, haven't you contradicted yourselves by saying men and women, whose natures are so different, ought to perform the same actions?' What defense will you make for us, my good sir, against anyone who raises these objections?"
That is not an easy question to answer when asked suddenly; and I shall and I do beg of you to draw out the case on our side.
"That's not an easy question to answer when it's asked suddenly," I said. "I will, and I do, beg you to lay out the case for our side."
These are the objections, Glaucon, and there are many others of a like kind, which I foresaw long ago; they made me afraid and reluctant to take in hand any law about the possession and nurture of women and children.
"These are the objections, Glaucon, and there are many others like them. I foresaw them long ago. They made me afraid, and I was reluctant to take on any law about the possession and nurture of women and children."
By Zeus, he said, the problem to be solved is anything but easy.
"By Zeus," he said. "The problem is anything but easy to solve."
Why yes, I said, but the fact is that when a man is out of his depth, whether he has fallen into a little swimming bath or into mid ocean, he has to swim all the same.
"Yes," I said. "The fact is simple. If a person is out of their depth, they must swim. It's the same whether they fall into a small pool or into the middle of the ocean."
Very true.
"That's true."
And must not we swim and try to reach the shore: we will hope that Arion’s dolphin or some other miraculous help may save us?
"Shouldn't we swim and try to reach the shore? Should we hope Arion's dolphin or some other miracle will save us?"
I suppose so, he said.
"I suppose so," he said.
Well then, let us see if any way of escape can be found. We acknowledged—did we not? that different natures ought to have different pursuits, and that men’s and women’s natures are different. And now what are we saying?—that different natures ought to have the same pursuits,—this is the inconsistency which is charged upon us.
"Well then, let's see if we can find any way out. We agreed, didn't we, that different natures should have different pursuits, and that men and women have different natures. Now what are we saying? That different natures should have the same pursuits. This is the inconsistency they charge against us."
Precisely.
"Exactly."
Verily, Glaucon, I said, glorious is the power of the art of contradiction!
"Truly, Glaucon," I said. "The art of contradiction is a glorious power!"
Why do you say so?
"Why do you say that?"
Because I think that many a man falls into the practice against his will. When he thinks that he is reasoning he is really disputing, just because he cannot define and divide, and so know that of which he is speaking; and he will pursue a merely verbal opposition in the spirit of contention and not of fair discussion.
"I think many men fall into this practice against their will. They believe they are reasoning, but they are really arguing. Because they cannot define or divide, they do not know what they are talking about. So they pursue mere verbal disputes in a combative spirit, not aiming at fair discussion."
Yes, he replied, such is very often the case; but what has that to do with us and our argument?
"Yes," he replied, "that often happens. But what does that have to do with us and our argument?"
A great deal; for there is certainly a danger of our getting unintentionally into a verbal opposition.
"A great deal. There is a real danger that we might unintentionally end up in a verbal disagreement."
In what way?
"How do you mean?"
Why we valiantly and pugnaciously insist upon the verbal truth, that different natures ought to have different pursuits, but we never considered at all what was the meaning of sameness or difference of nature, or why we distinguished them when we assigned different pursuits to different natures and the same to the same natures.
"Why do we proudly and fiercely insist, in words, that different natures should have different roles? Yet we never asked what 'sameness' or 'difference' of nature really means. We also never asked why we call some natures different when we give them different tasks, or why we call them the same when we give them the same tasks."
Why, no, he said, that was never considered by us.
"No," he said. "We never considered that."
I said: Suppose that by way of illustration we were to ask the question whether there is not an opposition in nature between bald men and hairy men; and if this is admitted by us, then, if bald men are cobblers, we should forbid the hairy men to be cobblers, and conversely?
I said, "Suppose, for example, we ask whether nature makes bald men and hairy men opposites. If we admit that, then suppose bald men are cobblers. Should we forbid hairy men from being cobblers, and should the reverse be true?"
That would be a jest, he said.
"That would be a joke," he said.
Yes, I said, a jest; and why? because we never meant when we constructed the State, that the opposition of natures should extend to every difference, but only to those differences which affected the pursuit in which the individual is engaged; we should have argued, for example, that a physician and one who is in mind a physician may be said to have the same nature.
"Yes," I said, "a joke. Why? Because when we built the State, we did not mean natural opposites to cover every difference. We meant them only for differences that affect a person's work. For example, we would say a physician and someone who is, in mind, a physician have the same nature."
True.
"True."
Whereas the physician and the carpenter have different natures?
"Aren't the physician and the carpenter different in nature?"
Certainly.
"Certainly."
And if, I said, the male and female sex appear to differ in their fitness for any art or pursuit, we should say that such pursuit or art ought to be assigned to one or the other of them; but if the difference consists only in women bearing and men begetting children, this does not amount to a proof that a woman differs from a man in respect of the sort of education she should receive; and we shall therefore continue to maintain that our guardians and their wives ought to have the same pursuits.
"I said, 'If men and women differ in fitness for a skill or pursuit, assign it to the one suited. If the only difference is that women bear children and men beget them, this alone is not proof. It does not show women need a different education. So we will continue to say that our guardians and their wives should have the same pursuits.'"
Very true, he said.
"That's true," he said.
Next, we shall ask our opponent how, in reference to any of the pursuits or arts of civic life, the nature of a woman differs from that of a man?
"Next we'll ask our opponent a question. How does a woman's nature differ from a man's in any public pursuit or art?"
That will be quite fair.
"That will be fair."
And perhaps he, like yourself, will reply that to give a sufficient answer on the instant is not easy; but after a little reflection there is no difficulty.
"Perhaps he, like you, will say that giving a full answer on the spot is not easy. But after a little reflection there is no difficulty."
Yes, perhaps.
"Yes, maybe."
Suppose then that we invite him to accompany us in the argument, and then we may hope to show him that there is nothing peculiar in the constitution of women which would affect them in the administration of the State.
"Suppose we invite him to join our discussion. Then we can show him there is nothing in women's nature that would stop them from governing the State."
By all means.
"By all means."
Let us say to him: Come now, and we will ask you a question:—when you spoke of a nature gifted or not gifted in any respect, did you mean to say that one man will acquire a thing easily, another with difficulty; a little learning will lead the one to discover a great deal; whereas the other, after much study and application, no sooner learns than he forgets; or again, did you mean, that the one has a body which is a good servant to his mind, while the body of the other is a hindrance to him?—would not these be the sort of differences which distinguish the man gifted by nature from the one who is ungifted?
"Let's say to him, 'Come now. We'll ask you a question. When you spoke of a nature that is gifted or not gifted at all, did you mean that one person learns something easily while another learns it with difficulty? That a little learning lets one person discover a great deal, while the other, after much study and effort, barely remembers what he learns? Or did you mean that one has a body that serves his mind well, while the other's body gets in the way? Wouldn't these be the kinds of differences that separate someone naturally gifted from someone who is not?'"
No one will deny that.
"Nobody will deny that."
And can you mention any pursuit of mankind in which the male sex has not all these gifts and qualities in a higher degree than the female? Need I waste time in speaking of the art of weaving, and the management of pancakes and preserves, in which womankind does really appear to be great, and in which for her to be beaten by a man is of all things the most absurd?
"Can you name any human pursuit in which men do not have these gifts and qualities to a higher degree than women? Do I need to waste time talking about the art of weaving, or the making of pancakes and preserves? In those things women truly seem to excel. For a man to beat a woman at them would be the most absurd thing."
You are quite right, he replied, in maintaining the general inferiority of the female sex: although many women are in many things superior to many men, yet on the whole what you say is true.
"You're quite right," he said. "You are right to say that women are generally inferior. Many women are superior to many men in many things. But on the whole, what you say is true."
And if so, my friend, I said, there is no special faculty of administration in a state which a woman has because she is a woman, or which a man has by virtue of his sex, but the gifts of nature are alike diffused in both; all the pursuits of men are the pursuits of women also, but in all of them a woman is inferior to a man.
"If that's true, my friend," I said. "There is no special skill for running a state that a woman has just because she's a woman. Nor does a man have such a skill just because he's a man. Natural gifts are shared by both. All the pursuits of men are also the pursuits of women. But in each of them a woman is inferior to a man."
Very true.
"Very true."
Then are we to impose all our enactments on men and none of them on women?
"Then are we going to apply all our laws to men and none to women?"
That will never do.
"That won't work."
One woman has a gift of healing, another not; one is a musician, and another has no music in her nature?
"One woman has a gift for healing, another does not. One is a musician, and another has no musical talent?"
Very true.
"Very true."
And one woman has a turn for gymnastic and military exercises, and another is unwarlike and hates gymnastics?
"So one woman takes to gymnastics and military training, and another is not warlike and hates gymnastics?"
Certainly.
"Certainly."
And one woman is a philosopher, and another is an enemy of philosophy; one has spirit, and another is without spirit?
"So one woman is a philosopher and another is opposed to philosophy. One has spirit and another has none?"
That is also true.
"That's true, too."
Then one woman will have the temper of a guardian, and another not. Was not the selection of the male guardians determined by differences of this sort?
"One woman will have the temperament of a guardian, and another will not. Wasn't the selection of the male guardians based on differences like that?"
Yes.
"Yes."
Men and women alike possess the qualities which make a guardian; they differ only in their comparative strength or weakness.
"Men and women both have the qualities needed to be guardians. They differ only in relative strength or weakness."
Obviously.
"Of course."
And those women who have such qualities are to be selected as the companions and colleagues of men who have similar qualities and whom they resemble in capacity and in character?
"Should the women with these qualities be chosen as companions and colleagues for men who have the same qualities? Should they match them in ability and character?"
Very true.
"That's very true."
And ought not the same natures to have the same pursuits?
"Shouldn't people with the same nature pursue the same things?"
They ought.
"They should."
Then, as we were saying before, there is nothing unnatural in assigning music and gymnastic to the wives of the guardians—to that point we come round again.
"As we were saying, there's nothing unnatural about assigning music and physical training to the guardians' wives. We're back to that point."
Certainly not.
"Certainly not."
The law which we then enacted was agreeable to nature, and therefore not an impossibility or mere aspiration; and the contrary practice, which prevails at present, is in reality a violation of nature.
"The law we made then was in line with nature. It wasn't impossible or mere wishful thinking. The opposite practice that now prevails actually violates nature."
That appears to be true.
"That seems true."
We had to consider, first, whether our proposals were possible, and secondly whether they were the most beneficial?
"We had to consider two things. First, were our proposals possible? Second, were they the most beneficial?"
Yes.
"Yes."
And the possibility has been acknowledged?
"So you acknowledge that possibility?"
Yes.
"Yes."
The very great benefit has next to be established?
"Must we now establish this very great benefit?"
Quite so.
"Exactly."
You will admit that the same education which makes a man a good guardian will make a woman a good guardian; for their original nature is the same?
"You will admit the same education that makes a man a good guardian will make a woman one. Their original nature is the same, isn't it?"
Yes.
"Yes."
I should like to ask you a question.
"I'd like to ask you a question."
What is it?
"What is it?"
Would you say that all men are equal in excellence, or is one man better than another?
"Would you say all people are equal in excellence, or is one person better than another?"
The latter.
"The second one."
And in the commonwealth which we were founding do you conceive the guardians who have been brought up on our model system to be more perfect men, or the cobblers whose education has been cobbling?
"In the state we are building, do you think the guardians trained by our system will be better people? Or the cobblers, whose education is only cobbling?"
What a ridiculous question!
"That's a ridiculous question!"
You have answered me, I replied: Well, and may we not further say that our guardians are the best of our citizens?
"You have answered me," I said. "Well, can't we also say that our guardians are the best of our citizens?"
By far the best.
"It's by far the best."
And will not their wives be the best women?
"And wouldn't their wives be the best women?"
Yes, by far the best.
"Yes, by far the best."
And can there be anything better for the interests of the State than that the men and women of a State should be as good as possible?
"Can anything be better for the state's interests than its men and women being as good as possible?"
There can be nothing better.
"Nothing could be better."
And this is what the arts of music and gymnastic, when present in such manner as we have described, will accomplish?
"And is this what the arts of music and gymnastics will do when introduced as we've described?"
Certainly.
"Certainly."
Then we have made an enactment not only possible but in the highest degree beneficial to the State?
"So we've made it possible to pass a law that's extremely beneficial to the State?"
True.
"True."
Then let the wives of our guardians strip, for their virtue will be their robe, and let them share in the toils of war and the defence of their country; only in the distribution of labours the lighter are to be assigned to the women, who are the weaker natures, but in other respects their duties are to be the same. And as for the man who laughs at naked women exercising their bodies from the best of motives, in his laughter he is plucking
"Then let the guardians' wives train naked. Their virtue will be their only clothing. Let them share the burdens of war and defend the country. They should be given the lighter tasks, since they are weaker by nature. In all other respects their duties should be the same. And a man who laughs at these women exercising naked for the right reasons, in his laughter he is plucking"
‘A fruit of unripe wisdom,’
"A product of immature wisdom,"
and he himself is ignorant of what he is laughing at, or what he is about;—for that is, and ever will be, the best of sayings, That the useful is the noble and the hurtful is the base.
"He doesn't even know what he's laughing at or what he's doing. For that is, and always will be, the best of sayings: 'The useful is the noble and the hurtful is the base.' "
Very true.
"Very true."
Here, then, is one difficulty in our law about women, which we may say that we have now escaped; the wave has not swallowed us up alive for enacting that the guardians of either sex should have all their pursuits in common; to the utility and also to the possibility of this arrangement the consistency of the argument with itself bears witness.
"Here is one problem with our law about women. We can say we have escaped it. We were not overwhelmed for deciding that guardians of both sexes should share all their pursuits. The argument's consistency shows this arrangement is both useful and possible."
Yes, that was a mighty wave which you have escaped.
"Yes, that was a mighty wave you escaped."
Yes, I said, but a greater is coming; you will not think much of this when you see the next.
"Yes," I said. "A greater one is coming. You won't think much of this when you see the next."
Go on; let me see.
"Go on. Let me see."
The law, I said, which is the sequel of this and of all that has preceded, is to the following effect,—‘that the wives of our guardians are to be common, and their children are to be common, and no parent is to know his own child, nor any child his parent.’
"The law," I said, "which follows from this and everything before it, is as follows. The guardians' wives are to be held in common. Their children are to be held in common as well. No parent is to know their own child, and no child is to know their parent."
Yes, he said, that is a much greater wave than the other; and the possibility as well as the utility of such a law are far more questionable.
"Yes," he said, "that's a much bigger wave than the other. Its feasibility and usefulness are far more doubtful."
I do not think, I said, that there can be any dispute about the very great utility of having wives and children in common; the possibility is quite another matter, and will be very much disputed.
"I don't think anyone can dispute how useful it is to have wives and children in common," I said. "Whether that's actually possible is another matter, and it will be much debated."
I think that a good many doubts may be raised about both.
"I think many doubts could be raised about both."
You imply that the two questions must be combined, I replied. Now I meant that you should admit the utility; and in this way, as I thought, I should escape from one of them, and then there would remain only the possibility.
"You imply that the two questions must be combined," I replied. "What I meant was that you should admit its usefulness. In that way, I thought, I could avoid one of them, leaving only the possibility."
But that little attempt is detected, and therefore you will please to give a defence of both.
"That small attempt has been noticed. Please defend both."
Well, I said, I submit to my fate. Yet grant me a little favour: let me feast my mind with the dream as day dreamers are in the habit of feasting themselves when they are walking alone; for before they have discovered any means of effecting their wishes—that is a matter which never troubles them—they would rather not tire themselves by thinking about possibilities; but assuming that what they desire is already granted to them, they proceed with their plan, and delight in detailing what they mean to do when their wish has come true—that is a way which they have of not doing much good to a capacity which was never good for much. Now I myself am beginning to lose heart, and I should like, with your permission, to pass over the question of possibility at present. Assuming therefore the possibility of the proposal, I shall now proceed to enquire how the rulers will carry out these arrangements, and I shall demonstrate that our plan, if executed, will be of the greatest benefit to the State and to the guardians. First of all, then, if you have no objection, I will endeavour with your help to consider the advantages of the measure; and hereafter the question of possibility.
"Well," I said, "I accept my fate. But grant me a small favor. Let me feed my mind on the dream, like daydreamers do when they walk alone. Before they know how to make their wishes come true, they don't waste energy worrying about it. They avoid tiring themselves with questions of possibility. Instead they assume what they want is already theirs. Then they go on with their plan and enjoy describing what they'll do when the wish comes true. It's a way of entertaining a mind that was never very productive. I'm beginning to lose heart myself, and with your permission I'd like to set aside the question of possibility for now. So, assuming the proposal could work, I'll ask how the rulers would carry it out. I'll show that, if put into practice, our plan would be of great benefit to the State and to the guardians. First, if you have no objection, I'll try, with your help, to consider the advantages. We can return to the question of possibility afterward."
I have no objection; proceed.
"I don't object. Go ahead."
First, I think that if our rulers and their auxiliaries are to be worthy of the name which they bear, there must be willingness to obey in the one and the power of command in the other; the guardians must themselves obey the laws, and they must also imitate the spirit of them in any details which are entrusted to their care.
"First, I think that if our rulers and their auxiliaries are to deserve their name, the rulers must be willing to obey. The auxiliaries must have the power to command. The guardians must obey the laws themselves. They must also follow the spirit of those laws in any details entrusted to them."
That is right, he said.
"That's right," he said.
You, I said, who are their legislator, having selected the men, will now select the women and give them to them;—they must be as far as possible of like natures with them; and they must live in common houses and meet at common meals. None of them will have anything specially his or her own; they will be together, and will be brought up together, and will associate at gymnastic exercises. And so they will be drawn by a necessity of their natures to have intercourse with each other—necessity is not too strong a word, I think?
"You," I said, "are their legislator. After you choose the men, you will choose the women and give them to the men. The women should be as similar in nature to the men as possible. They must live in common houses and share meals. None of them will own anything privately. They will live together, be raised together, and train together. That way they will be driven by a natural need to have sexual relations with one another. 'Necessity' is not too strong a word, I think?"
Yes, he said;—necessity, not geometrical, but another sort of necessity which lovers know, and which is far more convincing and constraining to the mass of mankind.
"Yes," he said. "It is necessity, not the geometric kind but another kind that lovers know. It is far more convincing and constraining for most people."
True, I said; and this, Glaucon, like all the rest, must proceed after an orderly fashion; in a city of the blessed, licentiousness is an unholy thing which the rulers will forbid.
"That's true," I said. "This, Glaucon, like everything else, must proceed in an orderly way. In a city of the blessed, licentiousness is unholy, and the rulers will forbid it."
Yes, he said, and it ought not to be permitted.
"Yes," he said. "It shouldn't be allowed."
Then clearly the next thing will be to make matrimony sacred in the highest degree, and what is most beneficial will be deemed sacred?
"So the next step is clear. We should make marriage as sacred as possible. Will we then call whatever is most beneficial sacred?"
Exactly.
"Exactly."
And how can marriages be made most beneficial?—that is a question which I put to you, because I see in your house dogs for hunting, and of the nobler sort of birds not a few. Now, I beseech you, do tell me, have you ever attended to their pairing and breeding?
"How can marriages be made most beneficial? I ask because I see you have hunting dogs and many fine birds in your house. Please tell me, have you ever paid attention to how they pair and breed?"
In what particulars?
"In what ways?"
Why, in the first place, although they are all of a good sort, are not some better than others?
"First, if they're all good people, why aren't some better than others?"
True.
"That's true."
And do you breed from them all indifferently, or do you take care to breed from the best only?
"Do you breed all of them indiscriminately, or do you breed only from the best?"
From the best.
"From the best."
And do you take the oldest or the youngest, or only those of ripe age?
"Do you choose the oldest, the youngest, or only those who are mature?"
I choose only those of ripe age.
"I choose only those who are of mature age."
And if care was not taken in the breeding, your dogs and birds would greatly deteriorate?
"If you didn't take care with breeding, wouldn't your dogs and birds deteriorate?"
Certainly.
"Certainly."
And the same of horses and animals in general?
"And is it the same for horses and animals in general?"
Undoubtedly.
"Of course."
Good heavens! my dear friend, I said, what consummate skill will our rulers need if the same principle holds of the human species!
"Good heavens!" I said. "My dear friend, what extraordinary skill our rulers will need if the same principle applies to humans!"
Certainly, the same principle holds; but why does this involve any particular skill?
"Certainly, the same principle applies. But why should this require any special skill?"
Because, I said, our rulers will often have to practise upon the body corporate with medicines. Now you know that when patients do not require medicines, but have only to be put under a regimen, the inferior sort of practitioner is deemed to be good enough; but when medicine has to be given, then the doctor should be more of a man.
"Because," I said, "our rulers will often have to treat the state with medicines. You know that when patients don't need medicine but only a regimen, a lesser practitioner is enough. But when medicine must be given, the doctor should be more skilled."
That is quite true, he said; but to what are you alluding?
"That's quite true," he said. "But what are you getting at?"
I mean, I replied, that our rulers will find a considerable dose of falsehood and deceit necessary for the good of their subjects: we were saying that the use of all these things regarded as medicines might be of advantage.
"I mean," I said. "Our rulers will see a fair amount of falsehood and deceit as necessary for their people's good. We were saying that treating these things like medicines might help."
And we were very right.
"And we were absolutely right."
And this lawful use of them seems likely to be often needed in the regulations of marriages and births.
"This lawful use will probably be needed often when we set regulations for marriages and births."
How so?
"How do you mean?"
Why, I said, the principle has been already laid down that the best of either sex should be united with the best as often, and the inferior with the inferior, as seldom as possible; and that they should rear the offspring of the one sort of union, but not of the other, if the flock is to be maintained in first-rate condition. Now these goings on must be a secret which the rulers only know, or there will be a further danger of our herd, as the guardians may be termed, breaking out into rebellion.
"Why," I said, "we already decided the best men and women should be paired as often as possible. The less fit should be paired together as rarely as possible. We should raise the children from the first type of union, but not from the other. That is how the flock stays in top condition. These arrangements must be a secret known only to the rulers. Otherwise our herd, which we might call the guardians, could rise in rebellion."
Very true.
"That's very true."
Had we not better appoint certain festivals at which we will bring together the brides and bridegrooms, and sacrifices will be offered and suitable hymeneal songs composed by our poets: the number of weddings is a matter which must be left to the discretion of the rulers, whose aim will be to preserve the average of population? There are many other things which they will have to consider, such as the effects of wars and diseases and any similar agencies, in order as far as this is possible to prevent the State from becoming either too large or too small.
"Wouldn't it be better to set aside certain festivals where we bring together the brides and grooms? We would offer sacrifices and have our poets write fitting wedding songs. How many weddings there are should be left to the rulers' judgment. Their aim would be to keep the population steady. They must also take into account wars, diseases, and similar forces. So far as possible, they should try to prevent the State from becoming too large or too small."
Certainly, he replied.
"Certainly," he replied.
We shall have to invent some ingenious kind of lots which the less worthy may draw on each occasion of our bringing them together, and then they will accuse their own ill-luck and not the rulers.
"We'll need to invent a clever lottery for the less worthy to draw when we bring them together. Then they'll blame their bad luck, not the rulers."
To be sure, he said.
"Of course," he said.
And I think that our braver and better youth, besides their other honours and rewards, might have greater facilities of intercourse with women given them; their bravery will be a reason, and such fathers ought to have as many sons as possible.
"I think our braver, better young men, besides other honors and rewards, should be given more opportunities to be with women. Their courage would be the reason. Fathers of such young men should have as many sons as possible."
True.
"True."
And the proper officers, whether male or female or both, for offices are to be held by women as well as by men—
"The proper officers, whether men or women, should hold the offices. Women as well as men may serve."
Yes—
"Yes."
The proper officers will take the offspring of the good parents to the pen or fold, and there they will deposit them with certain nurses who dwell in a separate quarter; but the offspring of the inferior, or of the better when they chance to be deformed, will be put away in some mysterious, unknown place, as they should be.
"The proper officers will take the children of the good parents to an enclosure. There they will place them with certain nurses who live in a separate quarter. The children of inferior parents will be put away in some secret, unknown place. If the children of the better parents turn out deformed, they will be treated the same way. That is how it should be."
Yes, he said, that must be done if the breed of the guardians is to be kept pure.
"Yes," he said. "We must do that to keep the guardians' bloodline pure."
They will provide for their nurture, and will bring the mothers to the fold when they are full of milk, taking the greatest possible care that no mother recognises her own child; and other wet-nurses may be engaged if more are required. Care will also be taken that the process of suckling shall not be protracted too long; and the mothers will have no getting up at night or other trouble, but will hand over all this sort of thing to the nurses and attendants.
"They will arrange for the children's care. They will bring nursing mothers back to the fold when they are producing milk. They will make every effort to ensure no mother recognizes her own child. If more are needed, they will hire other wet nurses. They will also make sure nursing does not continue too long. The mothers will not have to get up at night or deal with these tasks. They will hand them over to the nurses and attendants."
You suppose the wives of our guardians to have a fine easy time of it when they are having children.
"You think our guardians' wives have it easy when they are having children."
Why, said I, and so they ought. Let us, however, proceed with our scheme. We were saying that the parents should be in the prime of life?
"Why," I said, "and they should. But let's continue with our plan. We were saying the parents should be in their prime?"
Very true.
"That's very true."
And what is the prime of life? May it not be defined as a period of about twenty years in a woman’s life, and thirty in a man’s?
"And what is the prime of life? Could it be about twenty years for a woman and thirty for a man?"
Which years do you mean to include?
"Which years do you want to include?"
A woman, I said, at twenty years of age may begin to bear children to the State, and continue to bear them until forty; a man may begin at five-and-twenty, when he has passed the point at which the pulse of life beats quickest, and continue to beget children until he be fifty-five.
"A woman," I said, "can start bearing children for the State at twenty and keep doing so until forty. A man can start at twenty-five, after his bodily vigor peaks, and can father children until fifty-five."
Certainly, he said, both in men and women those years are the prime of physical as well as of intellectual vigour.
"Certainly," he said. "Those years are the prime of both physical and intellectual vigor in men and women."
Any one above or below the prescribed ages who takes part in the public hymeneals shall be said to have done an unholy and unrighteous thing; the child of which he is the father, if it steals into life, will have been conceived under auspices very unlike the sacrifices and prayers, which at each hymeneal priestesses and priest and the whole city will offer, that the new generation may be better and more useful than their good and useful parents, whereas his child will be the offspring of darkness and strange lust.
"Anyone older or younger than the approved ages who takes part in the public weddings will be said to have done an unholy and unrighteous thing. If the child he fathers is born, it will have been conceived under very different omens. Those omens are unlike the sacrifices and prayers that priestesses, priests, and the whole city offer at each wedding. They ask that the new generation be better and more useful than their good parents. His child, by contrast, will be an offspring of darkness and secret lust."
Very true, he replied.
"That's true," he replied.
And the same law will apply to any one of those within the prescribed age who forms a connection with any woman in the prime of life without the sanction of the rulers; for we shall say that he is raising up a bastard to the State, uncertified and unconsecrated.
"And the same rule will apply to any young man of the proper age. If he has a relationship with a woman in her prime but lacks the rulers' approval, we will call it improper. We will say he is raising an illegitimate child for the State. That child will be neither certified nor consecrated."
Very true, he replied.
"That's very true," he said.
This applies, however, only to those who are within the specified age: after that we allow them to range at will, except that a man may not marry his daughter or his daughter’s daughter, or his mother or his mother’s mother; and women, on the other hand, are prohibited from marrying their sons or fathers, or son’s son or father’s father, and so on in either direction. And we grant all this, accompanying the permission with strict orders to prevent any embryo which may come into being from seeing the light; and if any force a way to the birth, the parents must understand that the offspring of such an union cannot be maintained, and arrange accordingly.
"This only applies to those within the specified age. After that, they are free to pair as they wish. But a man may not marry his daughter, his granddaughter, his mother, or his grandmother. Likewise, a woman may not marry her son, her grandson, her father, or her grandfather, or any other direct-line relative. We allow this, but we give a strict order: any embryo that results must not be allowed to be born. If anyone forces a birth, the parents must understand that such a child cannot be maintained, and they must arrange accordingly."
That also, he said, is a reasonable proposition. But how will they know who are fathers and daughters, and so on?
"That sounds reasonable," he said. "But how will they know who the fathers are and who the daughters are, and so on?"
They will never know. The way will be this:—dating from the day of the hymeneal, the bridegroom who was then married will call all the male children who are born in the seventh and tenth month afterwards his sons, and the female children his daughters, and they will call him father, and he will call their children his grandchildren, and they will call the elder generation grandfathers and grandmothers. All who were begotten at the time when their fathers and mothers came together will be called their brothers and sisters, and these, as I was saying, will be forbidden to inter-marry. This, however, is not to be understood as an absolute prohibition of the marriage of brothers and sisters; if the lot favours them, and they receive the sanction of the Pythian oracle, the law will allow them.
"They will never know. It will work like this. From the wedding day, the husband will call male children born in the seventh or tenth month his sons. He will call female children his daughters. They will call him father. He will call their children his grandchildren. They will call the older generation grandfathers and grandmothers. All who were conceived when their parents came together will be called brothers and sisters. As I said, these siblings will be forbidden to marry each other. This is not an absolute ban. If chance favors them and they get approval from the Pythian oracle, the law will allow it."
Quite right, he replied.
"That's right," he said.
Such is the scheme, Glaucon, according to which the guardians of our State are to have their wives and families in common. And now you would have the argument show that this community is consistent with the rest of our polity, and also that nothing can be better—would you not?
"That's the scheme, Glaucon. The guardians of our State will have their wives and families in common. Now you want the argument to show that this arrangement fits with the rest of our polity. You also want it to show that nothing could be better, don't you?"
Yes, certainly.
"Yes, certainly."
Shall we try to find a common basis by asking of ourselves what ought to be the chief aim of the legislator in making laws and in the organization of a State,—what is the greatest good, and what is the greatest evil, and then consider whether our previous description has the stamp of the good or of the evil?
"Shall we try to find common ground? We can ask ourselves what should be the main aim of the lawgiver in making laws and organizing a State. What is the greatest good, and what is the greatest evil? Then we can judge whether our earlier description bears the mark of good or of evil."
By all means.
"By all means."
Can there be any greater evil than discord and distraction and plurality where unity ought to reign? or any greater good than the bond of unity?
"Can anything be worse than discord, distraction, and division where unity should rule? Is there any greater good than the bond of unity?"
There cannot.
"That can't."
And there is unity where there is community of pleasures and pains—where all the citizens are glad or grieved on the same occasions of joy and sorrow?
"And there is unity where people share pleasures and pains. Where all the citizens are happy or sad at the same moments?"
No doubt.
"No doubt."
Yes; and where there is no common but only private feeling a State is disorganized—when you have one half of the world triumphing and the other plunged in grief at the same events happening to the city or the citizens?
"Yes. When there is no shared feeling and only private ones, the state falls apart. Can half the city celebrate while the other half is plunged into grief over the same events affecting the city or its citizens?"
Certainly.
"Of course."
Such differences commonly originate in a disagreement about the use of the terms ‘mine’ and ‘not mine,’ ‘his’ and ‘not his.’
"Such differences often start with a disagreement about the words 'mine' and 'not mine.' They can also start with 'his' and 'not his.'"
Exactly so.
"Exactly."
And is not that the best-ordered State in which the greatest number of persons apply the terms ‘mine’ and ‘not mine’ in the same way to the same thing?
"Isn't the best-ordered State the one where most people call the same things 'mine' and 'not mine'?"
Quite true.
"That's true."
Or that again which most nearly approaches to the condition of the individual—as in the body, when but a finger of one of us is hurt, the whole frame, drawn towards the soul as a centre and forming one kingdom under the ruling power therein, feels the hurt and sympathizes all together with the part affected, and we say that the man has a pain in his finger; and the same expression is used about any other part of the body, which has a sensation of pain at suffering or of pleasure at the alleviation of suffering.
"Or take another example that closely matches the state of an individual. In the body, if one of us hurts a finger, the whole frame feels it. All the parts are drawn toward the soul as their center. They form one kingdom under the soul's ruling power. The body feels the hurt and sympathizes with the injured part. We say the man has a pain in his finger. We use the same phrase for any other part that feels pain or pleasure when the suffering is eased."
Very true, he replied; and I agree with you that in the best-ordered State there is the nearest approach to this common feeling which you describe.
"Very true," he replied. "I agree with you. In the best-ordered State, people come closest to the shared feeling you describe."
Then when any one of the citizens experiences any good or evil, the whole State will make his case their own, and will either rejoice or sorrow with him?
"So when any citizen experiences good or evil, the whole State will treat it as their own. It will share his joy or his grief?"
Yes, he said, that is what will happen in a well-ordered State.
"Yes," he said, "that is what will happen in a well-ordered State."
It will now be time, I said, for us to return to our State and see whether this or some other form is most in accordance with these fundamental principles.
"Now it's time," I said. "We should return to our State and see whether this form, or some other, best fits these basic principles."
Very good.
"Very good."
Our State like every other has rulers and subjects?
"Our state, like any other, has rulers and subjects?"
True.
"True."
All of whom will call one another citizens?
"Will they all call each other citizens?"
Of course.
"Of course."
But is there not another name which people give to their rulers in other States?
"But don't people in other states call their rulers by a different name?"
Generally they call them masters, but in democratic States they simply call them rulers.
"They usually call them masters. In democratic states they just call them rulers."
And in our State what other name besides that of citizens do the people give the rulers?
"In our state, what do the people call the rulers besides 'citizens'?"
They are called saviours and helpers, he replied.
"They're called saviors and helpers," he replied.
And what do the rulers call the people?
"What do the rulers call the people?"
Their maintainers and foster-fathers.
"Their caretakers and foster fathers."
And what do they call them in other States?
"And what do they call them in other states?"
Slaves.
"Slaves."
And what do the rulers call one another in other States?
"And what do the rulers in other states call each other?"
Fellow-rulers.
"Fellow rulers."
And what in ours?
"And what about ours?"
Fellow-guardians.
"Fellow guardians."
Did you ever know an example in any other State of a ruler who would speak of one of his colleagues as his friend and of another as not being his friend?
"Have you ever known a ruler in another state who called one colleague his friend? Did he call another not his friend?"
Yes, very often.
"Yes, very often."
And the friend he regards and describes as one in whom he has an interest, and the other as a stranger in whom he has no interest?
"And the friend he regards and calls someone he cares about, and the other a stranger he does not care about?"
Exactly.
"Exactly."
But would any of your guardians think or speak of any other guardian as a stranger?
"But would any of your guardians think of or call any other guardian a stranger?"
Certainly he would not; for every one whom they meet will be regarded by them either as a brother or sister, or father or mother, or son or daughter, or as the child or parent of those who are thus connected with him.
"Certainly he would not. Everyone they meet will be seen as a brother or sister. Others will be seen as a father or mother. Others again as a son or daughter. Or as the child or parent of someone already connected to him."
Capital, I said; but let me ask you once more: Shall they be a family in name only; or shall they in all their actions be true to the name? For example, in the use of the word ‘father,’ would the care of a father be implied and the filial reverence and duty and obedience to him which the law commands; and is the violator of these duties to be regarded as an impious and unrighteous person who is not likely to receive much good either at the hands of God or of man? Are these to be or not to be the strains which the children will hear repeated in their ears by all the citizens about those who are intimated to them to be their parents and the rest of their kinsfolk?
"Very well," I said. "But let me ask you again. Shall they be a family in name only? Or should they in every action live up to that name? For example, when we call someone 'father,' do we imply a father's care? Do we mean the child's reverence, duty, and obedience that the law requires? Should anyone who breaks these duties be seen as impious and unjust? Would such a person be unlikely to receive much good from God or from people? Will children constantly hear these messages from every citizen? Will they hear them about those presented as their parents and kin?"
These, he said, and none other; for what can be more ridiculous than for them to utter the names of family ties with the lips only and not to act in the spirit of them?
"These," he said, "and no others. What could be more ridiculous? People who only mouth the words 'family ties' and do not live by them."
Then in our city the language of harmony and concord will be more often heard than in any other. As I was describing before, when any one is well or ill, the universal word will be ‘with me it is well’ or ‘it is ill.’
"In our city the language of harmony and agreement will be heard more often than anywhere else. As I said before, when someone is well or ill the common reply will be simple. People will say 'it is well with me' or 'it is ill.' "
Most true.
"That's mostly true."
And agreeably to this mode of thinking and speaking, were we not saying that they will have their pleasures and pains in common?
"And if we follow that way of thinking, weren't we saying they would share their pleasures and pains?"
Yes, and so they will.
"Yes, they will."
And they will have a common interest in the same thing which they will alike call ‘my own,’ and having this common interest they will have a common feeling of pleasure and pain?
"And they will share an interest in the same thing. They will both call it 'my own.' Because of that shared interest, they will feel pleasure and pain together?"
Yes, far more so than in other States.
"Yes, far more than in other states."
And the reason of this, over and above the general constitution of the State, will be that the guardians will have a community of women and children?
"And is the reason for this, beyond the state's basic setup, that the guardians will share women and children?"
That will be the chief reason.
"That will be the main reason."
And this unity of feeling we admitted to be the greatest good, as was implied in our own comparison of a well-ordered State to the relation of the body and the members, when affected by pleasure or pain?
"Didn't we agree that this unity of feeling is the greatest good? Our earlier comparison made that clear. We compared a well-ordered State to a body and its members, and to how they are affected together by pleasure or pain."
That we acknowledged, and very rightly.
"We agreed to that, and rightly so."
Then the community of wives and children among our citizens is clearly the source of the greatest good to the State?
"So the communal sharing of wives and children among our citizens is clearly the greatest good for the State?"
Certainly.
"Certainly."
And this agrees with the other principle which we were affirming,—that the guardians were not to have houses or lands or any other property; their pay was to be their food, which they were to receive from the other citizens, and they were to have no private expenses; for we intended them to preserve their true character of guardians.
"This agrees with the other principle we agreed on. The guardians are not to own houses, land, or any property. Their pay is to be food they receive from the other citizens. They will have no private expenses. We intend this so they can keep their true character as guardians."
Right, he replied.
"Right," he said.
Both the community of property and the community of families, as I am saying, tend to make them more truly guardians; they will not tear the city in pieces by differing about ‘mine’ and ‘not mine;’ each man dragging any acquisition which he has made into a separate house of his own, where he has a separate wife and children and private pleasures and pains; but all will be affected as far as may be by the same pleasures and pains because they are all of one opinion about what is near and dear to them, and therefore they all tend towards a common end.
"Both sharing property and sharing families, as I was saying, make them true guardians. They will not tear the city apart by arguing over 'mine' and 'not mine.' Otherwise each man would carry whatever he had gained into his own separate house. He would have his own wife and children and his own private pleasures and pains. With shared property and families, everyone is affected by the same pleasures and pains as much as possible. They agree about what is important to them. So they all aim at a common end."
Certainly, he replied.
"Certainly," he replied.
And as they have nothing but their persons which they can call their own, suits and complaints will have no existence among them; they will be delivered from all those quarrels of which money or children or relations are the occasion.
"Since they own nothing but themselves, there will be no lawsuits or complaints among them. They will be free from all quarrels caused by money, children, or relatives."
Of course they will.
"Of course they will."
Neither will trials for assault or insult ever be likely to occur among them. For that equals should defend themselves against equals we shall maintain to be honourable and right; we shall make the protection of the person a matter of necessity.
"Trials for assault or insult are unlikely among them. We will say it is honorable and right for equals to defend themselves against equals. We will make protecting the person a necessity."
That is good, he said.
"That's good," he said.
Yes; and there is a further good in the law; viz. that if a man has a quarrel with another he will satisfy his resentment then and there, and not proceed to more dangerous lengths.
"Yes. There is another benefit to the law. If a man has a quarrel with someone, he settles his anger on the spot. He does not take it to more dangerous extremes."
Certainly.
"Of course."
To the elder shall be assigned the duty of ruling and chastising the younger.
"The elder will be given the duty of ruling and disciplining the younger."
Clearly.
"Clearly."
Nor can there be a doubt that the younger will not strike or do any other violence to an elder, unless the magistrates command him; nor will he slight him in any way. For there are two guardians, shame and fear, mighty to prevent him: shame, which makes men refrain from laying hands on those who are to them in the relation of parents; fear, that the injured one will be succoured by the others who are his brothers, sons, fathers.
"There is no doubt a younger person will not strike or otherwise harm an elder, unless the magistrates order it. He will not slight him in any way. Two guardians, shame and fear, keep him back. Shame makes people refrain from laying hands on those who stand to them as parents. Fear stops him because the injured man will be helped by others who are his brothers, sons, or fathers."
That is true, he replied.
"That's true," he replied.
Then in every way the laws will help the citizens to keep the peace with one another?
"Will the laws help citizens keep the peace with one another in every way?"
Yes, there will be no want of peace.
"Yes, there will be no lack of peace."
And as the guardians will never quarrel among themselves there will be no danger of the rest of the city being divided either against them or against one another.
"And if the guardians do not quarrel among themselves, the rest of the city will not be divided. No one will be set against them or against one another."
None whatever.
"None at all."
I hardly like even to mention the little meannesses of which they will be rid, for they are beneath notice: such, for example, as the flattery of the rich by the poor, and all the pains and pangs which men experience in bringing up a family, and in finding money to buy necessaries for their household, borrowing and then repudiating, getting how they can, and giving the money into the hands of women and slaves to keep—the many evils of so many kinds which people suffer in this way are mean enough and obvious enough, and not worth speaking of.
"I hardly like even to mention the little meannesses they will be rid of, because they are beneath notice. For example, the flattery the poor pay to the rich. Then there are the pains people suffer raising a family and trying to find money for household needs. People borrow and then refuse to repay. They get what they can and hand money to women or slaves to keep. These many petty evils are plain and not worth speaking about."
Yes, he said, a man has no need of eyes in order to perceive that.
"Yes," he said. "A man doesn't need eyes to perceive that."
And from all these evils they will be delivered, and their life will be blessed as the life of Olympic victors and yet more blessed.
"They will be freed from all these evils. Their lives will be blessed like those of Olympic victors, and even more so."
How so?
"What do you mean?"
The Olympic victor, I said, is deemed happy in receiving a part only of the blessedness which is secured to our citizens, who have won a more glorious victory and have a more complete maintenance at the public cost. For the victory which they have won is the salvation of the whole State; and the crown with which they and their children are crowned is the fulness of all that life needs; they receive rewards from the hands of their country while living, and after death have an honourable burial.
I said, "The Olympic victor is considered happy, but he only receives part of the blessing our citizens enjoy. Our citizens have won a more glorious victory and receive fuller support from the State. Their victory is the salvation of the whole State. The crown that they and their children wear provides everything life needs. They receive rewards from their country while alive. After death, they are given an honorable burial."
Yes, he said, and glorious rewards they are.
"Yes," he said. "They are glorious rewards."
Do you remember, I said, how in the course of the previous discussion some one who shall be nameless accused us of making our guardians unhappy—they had nothing and might have possessed all things—to whom we replied that, if an occasion offered, we might perhaps hereafter consider this question, but that, as at present advised, we would make our guardians truly guardians, and that we were fashioning the State with a view to the greatest happiness, not of any particular class, but of the whole?
"Do you remember," I said, "how during our earlier discussion someone, whom I will not name, accused us of making our guardians unhappy? He said they had nothing but could have had everything. We replied that if the chance came we might consider that question later. For now we meant to make our guardians true guardians. We were shaping the State to secure the greatest happiness, not of one class but of the whole."
Yes, I remember.
"Yes, I remember."
And what do you say, now that the life of our protectors is made out to be far better and nobler than that of Olympic victors—is the life of shoemakers, or any other artisans, or of husbandmen, to be compared with it?
"What do you say now that our protectors' life is far nobler than the Olympic victors'? Can the life of shoemakers, other artisans, or farmers be compared to it?"
Certainly not.
"Certainly not."
At the same time I ought here to repeat what I have said elsewhere, that if any of our guardians shall try to be happy in such a manner that he will cease to be a guardian, and is not content with this safe and harmonious life, which, in our judgment, is of all lives the best, but infatuated by some youthful conceit of happiness which gets up into his head shall seek to appropriate the whole state to himself, then he will have to learn how wisely Hesiod spoke, when he said, ‘half is more than the whole.’
I should repeat what I said before. If any of our guardians tries to be happy in a way that would make him stop being a guardian. He is not content with this safe, harmonious life. We judge that life to be the best of all. If, carried away by some youthful idea of happiness, he tries to take the whole state for himself. He will learn how wise Hesiod was when he said, "half is more than the whole."
If he were to consult me, I should say to him: Stay where you are, when you have the offer of such a life.
If he asked me, I'd say, "Stay where you are when you're offered a life like that."
You agree then, I said, that men and women are to have a common way of life such as we have described—common education, common children; and they are to watch over the citizens in common whether abiding in the city or going out to war; they are to keep watch together, and to hunt together like dogs; and always and in all things, as far as they are able, women are to share with the men? And in so doing they will do what is best, and will not violate, but preserve the natural relation of the sexes.
"You agree, then," I said, "that men and women should live the same kind of life we described. They should have the same education and raise their children together. They should guard the citizens together, whether staying in the city or going out to war. They should keep watch together and hunt together like dogs. And in all things, as far as they can, women should share with men? By doing this, they will do what is best. They will not break but preserve the natural relation between the sexes."
I agree with you, he replied.
"I agree with you," he said.
The enquiry, I said, has yet to be made, whether such a community be found possible—as among other animals, so also among men—and if possible, in what way possible?
I said, "We still need to ask if such a community can exist among humans, as it does among other animals. If it can, how would it work?"
You have anticipated the question which I was about to suggest.
"You have anticipated the question I was about to ask."
There is no difficulty, I said, in seeing how war will be carried on by them.
"It's not hard," I said, "to see how they will wage war."
How?
"How?"
Why, of course they will go on expeditions together; and will take with them any of their children who are strong enough, that, after the manner of the artisan’s child, they may look on at the work which they will have to do when they are grown up; and besides looking on they will have to help and be of use in war, and to wait upon their fathers and mothers. Did you never observe in the arts how the potters’ boys look on and help, long before they touch the wheel?
"Of course they'll go on expeditions together. They'll bring any of their children who are strong enough. Like an artisan's child, those kids will watch the work they'll have to do when they're grown. Besides watching, they'll help in war and attend to their fathers and mothers. Haven't you noticed how potters' boys watch and help long before they ever touch the wheel?"
Yes, I have.
"Yes, I have."
And shall potters be more careful in educating their children and in giving them the opportunity of seeing and practising their duties than our guardians will be?
"Will potters be more careful in educating their children? Will they give them more chances to see and practice their duties than our guardians will?"
The idea is ridiculous, he said.
"That's ridiculous," he said.
There is also the effect on the parents, with whom, as with other animals, the presence of their young ones will be the greatest incentive to valour.
"Parents are affected too. As with other animals, having their young nearby is the strongest incentive to bravery."
That is quite true, Socrates; and yet if they are defeated, which may often happen in war, how great the danger is! the children will be lost as well as their parents, and the State will never recover.
"That's quite true, Socrates. But if they're defeated, as often happens in war, the danger is great. The children will be lost along with their parents, and the State will never recover."
True, I said; but would you never allow them to run any risk?
"That's true," I said. "But would you never let them take any risk?"
I am far from saying that.
"I'm not saying that."
Well, but if they are ever to run a risk should they not do so on some occasion when, if they escape disaster, they will be the better for it?
"Well, if they ever have to take a risk, shouldn't they do it then? If they escape disaster, they'll be better off."
Clearly.
"Clearly."
Whether the future soldiers do or do not see war in the days of their youth is a very important matter, for the sake of which some risk may fairly be incurred.
"Whether future soldiers see war in their youth matters a great deal. Some reasonable risk can be accepted for that reason."
Yes, very important.
"Yes, it's very important."
This then must be our first step,—to make our children spectators of war; but we must also contrive that they shall be secured against danger; then all will be well.
"This should be our first step. Let our children be spectators of war. At the same time, make sure they are kept safe from danger. Then all will be well."
True.
"True."
Their parents may be supposed not to be blind to the risks of war, but to know, as far as human foresight can, what expeditions are safe and what dangerous?
"Are their parents blind to the risks of war? Surely not. They know, as far as human foresight allows, which expeditions are safe and which are dangerous."
That may be assumed.
"We can assume that."
And they will take them on the safe expeditions and be cautious about the dangerous ones?
"So they'll take them on safe expeditions and be careful with the dangerous ones?"
True.
"True."
And they will place them under the command of experienced veterans who will be their leaders and teachers?
"And they will place them under the command of seasoned veterans who will be their leaders and teachers?"
Very properly.
"That's right."
Still, the dangers of war cannot be always foreseen; there is a good deal of chance about them?
"Still, the dangers of war cannot always be foreseen. A lot depends on chance."
True.
"That's true."
Then against such chances the children must be at once furnished with wings, in order that in the hour of need they may fly away and escape.
"Against such dangers, the children must be given wings at once. When the need comes, they can fly away to safety."
What do you mean? he said.
"What do you mean?" he said.
I mean that we must mount them on horses in their earliest youth, and when they have learnt to ride, take them on horseback to see war: the horses must not be spirited and warlike, but the most tractable and yet the swiftest that can be had. In this way they will get an excellent view of what is hereafter to be their own business; and if there is danger they have only to follow their elder leaders and escape.
"I think we should put them on horses when they are very young. Once they learn to ride, take them on horseback to see war. Choose horses that are calm, not fiery. They should still be as fast as possible. This way they will get a clear sense of the work they'll later do. If danger appears, they can simply follow older riders and get away."
I believe that you are right, he said.
"I think you're right," he said.
Next, as to war; what are to be the relations of your soldiers to one another and to their enemies? I should be inclined to propose that the soldier who leaves his rank or throws away his arms, or is guilty of any other act of cowardice, should be degraded into the rank of a husbandman or artisan. What do you think?
"Next, about war. What should the relations be among your soldiers and between them and their enemies? I would suggest this. Any soldier who abandons his post, throws away his weapons, or commits other acts of cowardice should be demoted. He should be made a farmer or a craftsman. What do you think?"
By all means, I should say.
"By all means, I'd say so."
And he who allows himself to be taken prisoner may as well be made a present of to his enemies; he is their lawful prey, and let them do what they like with him.
"Anyone who lets himself be captured might as well be handed over to his enemies. He is their rightful prey, and they can do with him as they please."
Certainly.
"Certainly."
But the hero who has distinguished himself, what shall be done to him? In the first place, he shall receive honour in the army from his youthful comrades; every one of them in succession shall crown him. What do you say?
"But what should be done for a hero who has distinguished himself? First, he should be honored in the army by his young comrades. Each of them, in turn, should crown him. What do you say?"
I approve.
"I approve."
And what do you say to his receiving the right hand of fellowship?
"What do you think about him being given the right hand of fellowship?"
To that too, I agree.
"I agree with that too."
But you will hardly agree to my next proposal.
"But you are unlikely to agree to my next proposal."
What is your proposal?
"What's your proposal?"
That he should kiss and be kissed by them.
"That he should kiss them and be kissed by them."
Most certainly, and I should be disposed to go further, and say: Let no one whom he has a mind to kiss refuse to be kissed by him while the expedition lasts. So that if there be a lover in the army, whether his love be youth or maiden, he may be more eager to win the prize of valour.
"Most certainly. I would even go further and say this. Let no one whom he wishes to kiss be refused while the expedition lasts. That way, a soldier who has a lover will be keener to win the prize of valor. This applies whether the beloved is a youth or a maiden."
Capital, I said. That the brave man is to have more wives than others has been already determined: and he is to have first choices in such matters more than others, in order that he may have as many children as possible?
"Excellent," I said. "We've already decided that brave men should have more wives than others. Should they also get first choice in these matters so they can have as many children as possible?"
Agreed.
"Agreed."
Again, there is another manner in which, according to Homer, brave youths should be honoured; for he tells how Ajax, after he had distinguished himself in battle, was rewarded with long chines, which seems to be a compliment appropriate to a hero in the flower of his age, being not only a tribute of honour but also a very strengthening thing.
Again, Homer gives another example of how brave young men should be honored. He says that Ajax, after proving himself in battle, was rewarded with large cuts of meat. This seems a fitting tribute for a hero in the prime of life. It is not just an honor but also something that strengthens him.
Most true, he said.
"Very true," he said.
Then in this, I said, Homer shall be our teacher; and we too, at sacrifices and on the like occasions, will honour the brave according to the measure of their valour, whether men or women, with hymns and those other distinctions which we were mentioning; also with
"Then," I said, "Homer will be our teacher. At sacrifices and similar occasions we will honor the brave according to their courage. Whether men or women, they will receive hymns and the other distinctions we mentioned, and also with"
‘seats of precedence, and meats and full cups;’
"seats of honor, food, and full cups."
and in honouring them, we shall be at the same time training them.
"By honoring them, we will also train them."
That, he replied, is excellent.
"That's excellent," he replied.
Yes, I said; and when a man dies gloriously in war shall we not say, in the first place, that he is of the golden race?
"Yes," I said. "When a man dies gloriously in war, don't we first say that he belongs to the golden race?"
To be sure.
"Certainly."
Nay, have we not the authority of Hesiod for affirming that when they are dead
"Don't we have Hesiod's authority to affirm that when they are dead?"
‘They are holy angels upon the earth, authors of good, averters of evil, the guardians of speech-gifted men’?
"Are they holy angels on earth? Do they bring good, keep evil away, and protect men gifted with speech?"
Yes; and we accept his authority.
"Yes. We accept his authority."
We must learn of the god how we are to order the sepulture of divine and heroic personages, and what is to be their special distinction; and we must do as he bids?
"We must learn from the god how to arrange the burial of divine and heroic figures. We must also learn what special honors they should receive. Must we obey him?"
By all means.
"Go ahead."
And in ages to come we will reverence them and kneel before their sepulchres as at the graves of heroes. And not only they but any who are deemed pre-eminently good, whether they die from age, or in any other way, shall be admitted to the same honours.
"In future ages we will honor them and kneel at their tombs, as we do at heroes' graves. Not only them. Anyone judged supremely good will receive the same honors, whether they die of old age or otherwise."
That is very right, he said.
"That's exactly right," he said.
Next, how shall our soldiers treat their enemies? What about this?
"Next, how should our soldiers treat their enemies? What about this?"
In what respect do you mean?
"What do you mean by that?"
First of all, in regard to slavery? Do you think it right that Hellenes should enslave Hellenic States, or allow others to enslave them, if they can help? Should not their custom be to spare them, considering the danger which there is that the whole race may one day fall under the yoke of the barbarians?
"First of all, about slavery. Do you think it's right for Hellenes to enslave Hellenic States, or to let others enslave them when they could stop it? Shouldn't their practice be to spare those states, given the danger that the whole race might one day fall under the yoke of the barbarians?"
To spare them is infinitely better.
"It's infinitely better to spare them."
Then no Hellene should be owned by them as a slave; that is a rule which they will observe and advise the other Hellenes to observe.
"Then no Hellene should be owned by them as a slave. They will follow that rule and urge the other Hellenes to do the same."
Certainly, he said; they will in this way be united against the barbarians and will keep their hands off one another.
"Certainly," he said. "That will unite them against the barbarians and keep them from attacking one another."
Next as to the slain; ought the conquerors, I said, to take anything but their armour? Does not the practice of despoiling an enemy afford an excuse for not facing the battle? Cowards skulk about the dead, pretending that they are fulfilling a duty, and many an army before now has been lost from this love of plunder.
"Next, about the slain. Should the victors take anything but their armor? Does looting the enemy give people an excuse to avoid fighting? Cowards hang around the dead and claim they are doing their duty. Many armies have been lost for the love of plunder."
Very true.
"That's true."
And is there not illiberality and avarice in robbing a corpse, and also a degree of meanness and womanishness in making an enemy of the dead body when the real enemy has flown away and left only his fighting gear behind him,—is not this rather like a dog who cannot get at his assailant, quarrelling with the stones which strike him instead?
"Isn't it petty and greedy to rob a corpse? Isn't it mean and small-minded to make an enemy of a dead body? The real enemy has already fled and left only his weapons behind. Isn't this like a dog that cannot reach its attacker and snaps at the stones that hit it?"
Very like a dog, he said.
"He's very much like a dog," he said.
Then we must abstain from spoiling the dead or hindering their burial?
"So we must not desecrate the dead or prevent their burial?"
Yes, he replied, we most certainly must.
"Yes," he replied. "We most certainly must."
Neither shall we offer up arms at the temples of the gods, least of all the arms of Hellenes, if we care to maintain good feeling with other Hellenes; and, indeed, we have reason to fear that the offering of spoils taken from kinsmen may be a pollution unless commanded by the god himself?
"Nor should we offer weapons at the temples of the gods. We must avoid dedicating weapons taken from fellow Hellenes if we want to keep good relations with other Hellenes. Shouldn't we fear that offering spoils taken from kinsmen might be a pollution unless the god himself commands it?"
Very true.
"That's true."
Again, as to the devastation of Hellenic territory or the burning of houses, what is to be the practice?
"Again, when Hellenic territory is devastated or houses are burned, what should we do?"
May I have the pleasure, he said, of hearing your opinion?
"May I have the pleasure of hearing your opinion?" he asked.
Both should be forbidden, in my judgment; I would take the annual produce and no more. Shall I tell you why?
"Both should be forbidden, I think. I would take only the annual produce, nothing more. Shall I tell you why?"
Pray do.
"Please do."
Why, you see, there is a difference in the names ‘discord’ and ‘war,’ and I imagine that there is also a difference in their natures; the one is expressive of what is internal and domestic, the other of what is external and foreign; and the first of the two is termed discord, and only the second, war.
"You see, there is a difference between the words 'discord' and 'war,' and I think their natures differ too. One refers to what is internal and domestic. The other refers to what is external and foreign. The first is called 'discord.' Only the second is called 'war.'"
That is a very proper distinction, he replied.
"That's a very good distinction," he replied.
And may I not observe with equal propriety that the Hellenic race is all united together by ties of blood and friendship, and alien and strange to the barbarians?
"Can't I say the same? The Greeks are all united by ties of blood and friendship. They are alien to the barbarians."
Very good, he said.
"Very good," he said.
And therefore when Hellenes fight with barbarians and barbarians with Hellenes, they will be described by us as being at war when they fight, and by nature enemies, and this kind of antagonism should be called war; but when Hellenes fight with one another we shall say that Hellas is then in a state of disorder and discord, they being by nature friends; and such enmity is to be called discord.
"So when Hellenes fight barbarians, or barbarians fight Hellenes, we will call it war. In those cases they are natural enemies. That kind of conflict should be called war. When Hellenes fight one another, we will say Hellas is in a state of disorder and discord. By nature they are friends, and that kind of hostility should be called discord."
I agree.
"I agree."
Consider then, I said, when that which we have acknowledged to be discord occurs, and a city is divided, if both parties destroy the lands and burn the houses of one another, how wicked does the strife appear! No true lover of his country would bring himself to tear in pieces his own nurse and mother: There might be reason in the conqueror depriving the conquered of their harvest, but still they would have the idea of peace in their hearts and would not mean to go on fighting for ever.
"Consider this," I said. "When what we called discord breaks out and a city is divided, imagine both sides destroying each other's fields. They burn each other's houses. How terrible the fighting looks. No true lover of his country would tear apart his own nurse and mother. A conqueror might be justified in taking the defeated people's harvest. Even so, people would still hold the idea of peace in their hearts. They would not intend to fight forever."
Yes, he said, that is a better temper than the other.
"Yes," he said, "that one has a better temperament than the other."
And will not the city, which you are founding, be an Hellenic city?
"Won't the city you're founding be a Hellenic city?"
It ought to be, he replied.
"It should be," he replied.
Then will not the citizens be good and civilized?
"Then won't the citizens be good and civilized?"
Yes, very civilized.
"Yes, very civilized."
And will they not be lovers of Hellas, and think of Hellas as their own land, and share in the common temples?
"Won't they love Hellas? Won't they think of Hellas as their own land? Won't they share the common temples?"
Most certainly.
"Yes, certainly."
And any difference which arises among them will be regarded by them as discord only—a quarrel among friends, which is not to be called a war?
"And any disagreement that arises among them will be regarded as mere discord. A quarrel among friends, not a war?"
Certainly not.
"No, certainly not."
Then they will quarrel as those who intend some day to be reconciled?
"Then they'll quarrel like people who plan to reconcile someday?"
Certainly.
Certainly.
They will use friendly correction, but will not enslave or destroy their opponents; they will be correctors, not enemies?
"They will offer friendly correction, but not enslave or destroy their opponents. They will be correctors, not enemies?"
Just so.
"Exactly."
And as they are Hellenes themselves they will not devastate Hellas, nor will they burn houses, nor ever suppose that the whole population of a city—men, women, and children—are equally their enemies, for they know that the guilt of war is always confined to a few persons and that the many are their friends. And for all these reasons they will be unwilling to waste their lands and rase their houses; their enmity to them will only last until the many innocent sufferers have compelled the guilty few to give satisfaction?
"Because they are Hellenes themselves, they will not devastate Hellas. They will not burn houses or assume that an entire city's people, men, women, and children, are all their enemies. They know the guilt of war falls on a few, and that most people are their friends. For all these reasons, they will be unwilling to waste land or raze homes. Their hostility will last only until the many innocent sufferers force the guilty few to make amends?"
I agree, he said, that our citizens should thus deal with their Hellenic enemies; and with barbarians as the Hellenes now deal with one another.
"I agree," he said. "Our citizens should treat their Greek enemies that way. They should treat barbarians as the Greeks now treat one another."
Then let us enact this law also for our guardians:—that they are neither to devastate the lands of Hellenes nor to burn their houses.
"Let us make this law for our guardians as well. They must not devastate the lands of Hellenes or burn their houses."
Agreed; and we may agree also in thinking that these, like all our previous enactments, are very good.
"Agreed. We can also agree that these, like all our previous laws, are very good."
But still I must say, Socrates, that if you are allowed to go on in this way you will entirely forget the other question which at the commencement of this discussion you thrust aside:—Is such an order of things possible, and how, if at all? For I am quite ready to acknowledge that the plan which you propose, if only feasible, would do all sorts of good to the State. I will add, what you have omitted, that your citizens will be the bravest of warriors, and will never leave their ranks, for they will all know one another, and each will call the other father, brother, son; and if you suppose the women to join their armies, whether in the same rank or in the rear, either as a terror to the enemy, or as auxiliaries in case of need, I know that they will then be absolutely invincible; and there are many domestic advantages which might also be mentioned and which I also fully acknowledge: but, as I admit all these advantages and as many more as you please, if only this State of yours were to come into existence, we need say no more about them; assuming then the existence of the State, let us now turn to the question of possibility and ways and means—the rest may be left.
"But I have to say, Socrates, if you keep going like this you'll forget the other question you set aside at the start of our discussion. Is such an order of things possible? And if so, how? I'm ready to admit your plan, if it can work, would do a lot of good for the State. I'll add something you left out: your citizens would be the bravest warriors. They would never break ranks because they'd all know one another and call each other father, brother, or son. If you imagine women joining the armies, whether on the front line or in the rear, as a terror to the enemy or as support when needed, they would be unbeatable. There are many household benefits too, which I also accept. But even if I accept these advantages and any others you want to add, that's only on the condition that your State actually comes into being. If we assume it does, we need not discuss those benefits further. Instead, let's return to the question of possibility and the practical means to achieve it. We can leave the rest aside."
If I loiter for a moment, you instantly make a raid upon me, I said, and have no mercy; I have hardly escaped the first and second waves, and you seem not to be aware that you are now bringing upon me the third, which is the greatest and heaviest. When you have seen and heard the third wave, I think you will be more considerate and will acknowledge that some fear and hesitation was natural respecting a proposal so extraordinary as that which I have now to state and investigate.
"If I pause for a moment, you immediately pounce on me," I said. "You have no mercy. I barely escaped the first and second waves. You don't seem to realize you are now bringing on the third wave. It is the greatest and heaviest. When you hear the third wave, I think you'll be more considerate. You'll admit that some fear and hesitation were natural about such an extraordinary proposal. I must now state and examine it."
The more appeals of this sort which you make, he said, the more determined are we that you shall tell us how such a State is possible: speak out and at once.
"The more appeals of this sort you make," he said, "the more determined we are that you must tell us how such a State is possible. Speak out at once."
Let me begin by reminding you that we found our way hither in the search after justice and injustice.
"Let me start by reminding you that we came here to search for justice and injustice."
True, he replied; but what of that?
"True," he replied. "But what does that matter?"
I was only going to ask whether, if we have discovered them, we are to require that the just man should in nothing fail of absolute justice; or may we be satisfied with an approximation, and the attainment in him of a higher degree of justice than is to be found in other men?
"I only want to ask a short question. Now that we've found them, should we demand that the just man be absolutely just and fail in nothing? Or can we be satisfied with an approximation, with him reaching a higher degree of justice than other people?"
The approximation will be enough.
"That approximation will be enough."
We were enquiring into the nature of absolute justice and into the character of the perfectly just, and into injustice and the perfectly unjust, that we might have an ideal. We were to look at these in order that we might judge of our own happiness and unhappiness according to the standard which they exhibited and the degree in which we resembled them, but not with any view of showing that they could exist in fact.
"We began by asking about perfect justice and the perfectly just person, and about injustice and the perfectly unjust person. Our goal was to have an ideal. We wanted to judge our own happiness and unhappiness by that standard and see how much we matched it. We were not trying to show that such people actually exist."
True, he said.
"True," he said.
Would a painter be any the worse because, after having delineated with consummate art an ideal of a perfectly beautiful man, he was unable to show that any such man could ever have existed?
"Would a painter be any worse for masterfully depicting the ideal of a perfectly beautiful man? He could not prove that such a man ever existed."
He would be none the worse.
"He wouldn't be any worse off."
Well, and were we not creating an ideal of a perfect State?
"Weren't we creating an ideal of a perfect State?"
To be sure.
"Certainly."
And is our theory a worse theory because we are unable to prove the possibility of a city being ordered in the manner described?
"Is our theory any worse because we can't show a city can be ordered that way?"
Surely not, he replied.
"Surely not," he said.
That is the truth, I said. But if, at your request, I am to try and show how and under what conditions the possibility is highest, I must ask you, having this in view, to repeat your former admissions.
"That's true," I said. "But if you want me to show when this is most likely, repeat your earlier admissions."
What admissions?
"Admissions about what?"
I want to know whether ideals are ever fully realized in language? Does not the word express more than the fact, and must not the actual, whatever a man may think, always, in the nature of things, fall short of the truth? What do you say?
"I want to know: are ideals ever fully expressed in language? Doesn't the word express more than the fact? And, by its nature, doesn't the actual thing, whatever anyone may think, always fall short of the truth? What do you say?"
I agree.
"I agree."
Then you must not insist on my proving that the actual State will in every respect coincide with the ideal: if we are only able to discover how a city may be governed nearly as we proposed, you will admit that we have discovered the possibility which you demand; and will be contented. I am sure that I should be contented—will not you?
"Then you must not insist that I prove the actual State will match the ideal in every detail. If we can show how a city could be governed close to what we proposed, you will admit we have discovered the possibility you asked for. You will be content. I am sure I should be content. Won't you?"
Yes, I will.
"Yes, I will."
Let me next endeavour to show what is that fault in States which is the cause of their present maladministration, and what is the least change which will enable a State to pass into the truer form; and let the change, if possible, be of one thing only, or, if not, of two; at any rate, let the changes be as few and slight as possible.
"Let me next try to show what fault in states causes their current bad government. I will also show the smallest change that can move a state toward a truer form. If possible, make it a single change. If not, allow two. In any case, keep the changes as few and as small as possible."
Certainly, he replied.
"Certainly," he said.
I think, I said, that there might be a reform of the State if only one change were made, which is not a slight or easy though still a possible one.
"I think," I said, "the State could be reformed if we made just one change. It would not be small or easy, but it might be possible."
What is it? he said.
"What is it?" he said.
Now then, I said, I go to meet that which I liken to the greatest of the waves; yet shall the word be spoken, even though the wave break and drown me in laughter and dishonour; and do you mark my words.
"Well then," I said, "I am going to face what I liken to the greatest wave. Still, I will speak, even if the wave breaks over me and drowns me in laughter and shame. Mark my words."
Proceed.
"Go on."
I said: ‘Until philosophers are kings, or the kings and princes of this world have the spirit and power of philosophy, and political greatness and wisdom meet in one, and those commoner natures who pursue either to the exclusion of the other are compelled to stand aside, cities will never have rest from their evils,—nor the human race, as I believe,—and then only will this our State have a possibility of life and behold the light of day.’ Such was the thought, my dear Glaucon, which I would fain have uttered if it had not seemed too extravagant; for to be convinced that in no other State can there be happiness private or public is indeed a hard thing.
I said, "Until philosophers are kings, or until kings and princes gain the spirit and power of philosophy, cities will not be free from their evils. Political greatness and wisdom must meet in the same people. Ordinary leaders who pursue only one must step aside. I believe the human race will not have rest either. Only then will our State have a chance at life and see the light of day." That was the thought, my dear Glaucon. I would have liked to say it, but it seemed too extravagant. It is hard to be convinced that no other State can have private or public happiness.
Socrates, what do you mean? I would have you consider that the word which you have uttered is one at which numerous persons, and very respectable persons too, in a figure pulling off their coats all in a moment, and seizing any weapon that comes to hand, will run at you might and main, before you know where you are, intending to do heaven knows what; and if you don’t prepare an answer, and put yourself in motion, you will be ‘pared by their fine wits,’ and no mistake.
"Socrates, what do you mean? Consider the word you just used. Many people, even respectable ones, will figuratively pull off their coats and grab any weapon they find. They'll rush at you with all their might before you know what's happening. They may be planning who knows what. If you don't have an answer ready and don't act, they'll pick you apart with their sharp wits. No mistake."
You got me into the scrape, I said.
"You got me into this mess," I said.
And I was quite right; however, I will do all I can to get you out of it; but I can only give you good-will and good advice, and, perhaps, I may be able to fit answers to your questions better than another—that is all. And now, having such an auxiliary, you must do your best to show the unbelievers that you are right.
"I was right. Still, I'll do everything I can to get you out of it. I can only offer goodwill and good advice. I may also be able to answer your questions better than others. That's all. Now, with this help, you must do your best to show the unbelievers that you are right."
I ought to try, I said, since you offer me such invaluable assistance. And I think that, if there is to be a chance of our escaping, we must explain to them whom we mean when we say that philosophers are to rule in the State; then we shall be able to defend ourselves: There will be discovered to be some natures who ought to study philosophy and to be leaders in the State; and others who are not born to be philosophers, and are meant to be followers rather than leaders.
"I should try," I said, "since you offer me such invaluable help. If we want any chance of escaping blame, we must explain who we mean by 'philosophers.' We must say what we mean by them ruling the State. Then we can defend ourselves. Some people will be found to have natures that suit them to study philosophy and lead the State. Others are not born to be philosophers and are meant to follow, not lead."
Then now for a definition, he said.
"Okay. Now for a definition," he said.
Follow me, I said, and I hope that I may in some way or other be able to give you a satisfactory explanation.
"Follow me," I said. "I hope I can somehow give you a satisfactory explanation."
Proceed.
"Go on."
I dare say that you remember, and therefore I need not remind you, that a lover, if he is worthy of the name, ought to show his love, not to some one part of that which he loves, but to the whole.
"I suppose you remember, so I need not remind you. A lover worthy of the name should love the whole thing, not just one part."
I really do not understand, and therefore beg of you to assist my memory.
"I really don't understand. Please help me remember."
Another person, I said, might fairly reply as you do; but a man of pleasure like yourself ought to know that all who are in the flower of youth do somehow or other raise a pang or emotion in a lover’s breast, and are thought by him to be worthy of his affectionate regards. Is not this a way which you have with the fair: one has a snub nose, and you praise his charming face; the hook-nose of another has, you say, a royal look; while he who is neither snub nor hooked has the grace of regularity: the dark visage is manly, the fair are children of the gods; and as to the sweet ‘honey pale,’ as they are called, what is the very name but the invention of a lover who talks in diminutives, and is not averse to paleness if appearing on the cheek of youth? In a word, there is no excuse which you will not make, and nothing which you will not say, in order not to lose a single flower that blooms in the spring-time of youth.
"Another person," I said, "might fairly reply as you do. But a man of pleasure like you should know this. Anyone in the flower of youth can stir a lover's pang. Lovers think such people worthy of affection. Isn't that how you treat the fair? One has a snub nose, and you call his face charming. Another has a hooked nose, and you say it looks royal. He who is neither snub nor hooked simply has the grace of regularity. The dark face is manly. The fair are children of the gods. And what of the sweet 'honey-pale,' as they call it? That name comes from lovers using pet names, and they do not mind paleness on a young cheek. In short, there is no excuse you will not make, and no praise you will not give, to keep from losing a single flower in the spring of youth."
If you make me an authority in matters of love, for the sake of the argument, I assent.
"If you make me an authority on love for the sake of argument, I agree."
And what do you say of lovers of wine? Do you not see them doing the same? They are glad of any pretext of drinking any wine.
"And what do you say of lovers of wine? Don't you see them doing the same? They're happy to use any excuse to drink wine."
Very good.
"Very good."
And the same is true of ambitious men; if they cannot command an army, they are willing to command a file; and if they cannot be honoured by really great and important persons, they are glad to be honoured by lesser and meaner people,—but honour of some kind they must have.
"The same is true of ambitious men. If they cannot command an army, they will command a small unit. If they cannot win honor from truly great and important people, they are happy to receive it from lesser, meaner people. They must have some kind of honor."
Exactly.
"Exactly."
Once more let me ask: Does he who desires any class of goods, desire the whole class or a part only?
"Let me ask again. Does someone who wants any class of goods want the whole class or only part of it?"
The whole.
"All of it."
And may we not say of the philosopher that he is a lover, not of a part of wisdom only, but of the whole?
"Can't we say the philosopher loves wisdom as a whole, not just a part of it?"
Yes, of the whole.
"Yes, the whole thing."
And he who dislikes learning, especially in youth, when he has no power of judging what is good and what is not, such an one we maintain not to be a philosopher or a lover of knowledge, just as he who refuses his food is not hungry, and may be said to have a bad appetite and not a good one?
"And someone who dislikes learning is not a philosopher or a lover of knowledge. This is especially true when they are young and cannot judge what is good and what is not, right? Just as someone who refuses food is not hungry. We would say they have a bad appetite, not a good one."
Very true, he said.
"That's very true," he said.
Whereas he who has a taste for every sort of knowledge and who is curious to learn and is never satisfied, may be justly termed a philosopher? Am I not right?
"Isn't someone who enjoys every kind of knowledge, is curious, and never satisfied properly called a philosopher? Am I not right?"
Glaucon said: If curiosity makes a philosopher, you will find many a strange being will have a title to the name. All the lovers of sights have a delight in learning, and must therefore be included. Musical amateurs, too, are a folk strangely out of place among philosophers, for they are the last persons in the world who would come to anything like a philosophical discussion, if they could help, while they run about at the Dionysiac festivals as if they had let out their ears to hear every chorus; whether the performance is in town or country—that makes no difference—they are there. Now are we to maintain that all these and any who have similar tastes, as well as the professors of quite minor arts, are philosophers?
Glaucon said, "If curiosity makes someone a philosopher, many odd people would be called philosophers. All people who love to see new things enjoy learning, so they would be included. Musical amateurs, too, are oddly out of place among philosophers. They are the last people who would join a philosophical discussion if they could avoid it. Yet they rush to the Dionysiac festivals as if they'd freed their ears to hear every chorus. It makes no difference whether the performance is in town or country. They are there. So are we to say that all these people and anyone with similar tastes are philosophers? Does that include teachers of minor arts?"
Certainly not, I replied; they are only an imitation.
"Certainly not," I replied. "They are only an imitation."
He said: Who then are the true philosophers?
He asked, "Who, then, are the true philosophers?"
Those, I said, who are lovers of the vision of truth.
"Those," I said, "are the ones who love the vision of truth."
That is also good, he said; but I should like to know what you mean?
"That's good too," he said. "But I'd like to know what you mean."
To another, I replied, I might have a difficulty in explaining; but I am sure that you will admit a proposition which I am about to make.
To another, I replied, "I might have difficulty explaining it. But I'm sure you'll agree to the proposition I'm about to make."
What is the proposition?
"What do you propose?"
That since beauty is the opposite of ugliness, they are two?
"If beauty is the opposite of ugliness, does that make them two things?"
Certainly.
"Certainly."
And inasmuch as they are two, each of them is one?
"So, since there are two, is each of them a single thing?"
True again.
"Again, that's true."
And of just and unjust, good and evil, and of every other class, the same remark holds: taken singly, each of them is one; but from the various combinations of them with actions and things and with one another, they are seen in all sorts of lights and appear many?
"And the same applies to justice and injustice, to good and evil, and to every other kind. Taken by themselves, each is one. But when they combine with actions and with things, and with one another, don't they appear in many forms?"
Very true.
"That's very true."
And this is the distinction which I draw between the sight-loving, art-loving, practical class and those of whom I am speaking, and who are alone worthy of the name of philosophers.
"This is the difference I draw between people who love what they see, art, and practical work and the ones I mean. Only those people deserve to be called philosophers."
How do you distinguish them? he said.
"How can you tell them apart?" he said.
The lovers of sounds and sights, I replied, are, as I conceive, fond of fine tones and colours and forms and all the artificial products that are made out of them, but their mind is incapable of seeing or loving absolute beauty.
I replied, "The lovers of sounds and sights are, I think, fond of fine tones, colors, and forms. They like the man-made things made from these. But their minds cannot see or love absolute beauty."
True, he replied.
"That's true," he said.
Few are they who are able to attain to the sight of this.
"Only a few people can see this."
Very true.
"Very true."
And he who, having a sense of beautiful things has no sense of absolute beauty, or who, if another lead him to a knowledge of that beauty is unable to follow—of such an one I ask, Is he awake or in a dream only? Reflect: is not the dreamer, sleeping or waking, one who likens dissimilar things, who puts the copy in the place of the real object?
"Someone who recognizes beautiful things but not absolute Beauty. Or someone who, when another guides him toward that Beauty, cannot follow. Is he awake or only dreaming? Think about it. Isn't the dreamer, whether asleep or awake, someone who compares unlike things? Someone who puts the copy in the place of the real thing?"
I should certainly say that such an one was dreaming.
"I would certainly say that such a person was dreaming."
But take the case of the other, who recognises the existence of absolute beauty and is able to distinguish the idea from the objects which participate in the idea, neither putting the objects in the place of the idea nor the idea in the place of the objects—is he a dreamer, or is he awake?
"But consider someone who recognizes absolute beauty. He can distinguish the idea from the objects that participate in it. He neither treats the objects as the idea nor treats the idea as the objects. Is he a dreamer, or is he awake?"
He is wide awake.
"He's wide awake."
And may we not say that the mind of the one who knows has knowledge, and that the mind of the other, who opines only, has opinion?
"Can't we say that the mind of the one who knows has knowledge? Can't we also say that the mind of the other, who only forms opinions, has opinion?"
Certainly.
"Of course."
But suppose that the latter should quarrel with us and dispute our statement, can we administer any soothing cordial or advice to him, without revealing to him that there is sad disorder in his wits?
"But suppose he quarrels with us and disputes what we say. Can we offer him any comforting words or advice without showing him that his mind is in serious disorder?"
We must certainly offer him some good advice, he replied.
"We should give him some good advice," he replied.
Come, then, and let us think of something to say to him. Shall we begin by assuring him that he is welcome to any knowledge which he may have, and that we are rejoiced at his having it? But we should like to ask him a question: Does he who has knowledge know something or nothing? (You must answer for him.)
"Come on, then, and let's think of something to say to him. Shall we start by telling him he is welcome to any knowledge he has? Are we to say we are glad he has it? But we'd like to ask him a question. Does someone who has knowledge actually know something, or nothing? You must answer for him."
I answer that he knows something.
"I say he knows something."
Something that is or is not?
"Is something, or is it not?"
Something that is; for how can that which is not ever be known?
"Something that exists. How can what does not exist ever be known?"
And are we assured, after looking at the matter from many points of view, that absolute being is or may be absolutely known, but that the utterly non-existent is utterly unknown?
"Are we sure, after examining the matter from many angles, that absolute being can be fully known? And that the utterly non-existent is completely unknowable?"
Nothing can be more certain.
"Nothing is more certain."
Good. But if there be anything which is of such a nature as to be and not to be, that will have a place intermediate between pure being and the absolute negation of being?
"Good. But if there is something that exists and does not, wouldn't it lie between pure being and total nonexistence?"
Yes, between them.
"Yes, between them."
And, as knowledge corresponded to being and ignorance of necessity to not-being, for that intermediate between being and not-being there has to be discovered a corresponding intermediate between ignorance and knowledge, if there be such?
"Knowledge corresponds to being, and ignorance corresponds to not-being. So whatever lies between being and not-being should have a matching intermediate between ignorance and knowledge. That assumes such an intermediate exists."
Certainly.
"Of course."
Do we admit the existence of opinion?
"Do we admit that opinion exists?"
Undoubtedly.
"No doubt."
As being the same with knowledge, or another faculty?
"Is it the same as knowledge, or a different faculty?"
Another faculty.
"Another ability."
Then opinion and knowledge have to do with different kinds of matter corresponding to this difference of faculties?
"So opinion and knowledge deal with different kinds of things that match this difference in our faculties?"
Yes.
"Yes."
And knowledge is relative to being and knows being. But before I proceed further I will make a division.
"Knowledge is tied to being and knows being. Before I go on, I'll draw a distinction."
What division?
"What division?"
I will begin by placing faculties in a class by themselves: they are powers in us, and in all other things, by which we do as we do. Sight and hearing, for example, I should call faculties. Have I clearly explained the class which I mean?
"I'll start by putting faculties in their own category. They are powers in us and in other things that make us act as we do. For example, sight and hearing are faculties. Have I made the category I'm talking about clear?"
Yes, I quite understand.
"Yes, I understand perfectly."
Then let me tell you my view about them. I do not see them, and therefore the distinctions of figure, colour, and the like, which enable me to discern the differences of some things, do not apply to them. In speaking of a faculty I think only of its sphere and its result; and that which has the same sphere and the same result I call the same faculty, but that which has another sphere and another result I call different. Would that be your way of speaking?
"Let me tell you what I think about them. I do not see them, so differences of shape, color, and the like do not apply. Those differences help me tell some things apart, but not these. When I speak of a faculty, I mean its scope and its result. If two things have the same scope and the same result, I call them the same faculty. If one has a different scope and a different result, I call it different. Is that how you'd put it?"
Yes.
"Yes."
And will you be so very good as to answer one more question? Would you say that knowledge is a faculty, or in what class would you place it?
"Will you be kind enough to answer one more question? Do you think knowledge is a faculty, or how would you classify it?"
Certainly knowledge is a faculty, and the mightiest of all faculties.
"Certainly, knowledge is a faculty. It is the mightiest of them all."
And is opinion also a faculty?
"And is opinion a faculty too?"
Certainly, he said; for opinion is that with which we are able to form an opinion.
"Certainly," he said. "Opinion is what lets us form an opinion."
And yet you were acknowledging a little while ago that knowledge is not the same as opinion?
"You just admitted a moment ago that knowledge is not the same as opinion, didn't you?"
Why, yes, he said: how can any reasonable being ever identify that which is infallible with that which errs?
"Yes," he said. "How could any reasonable person ever mistake the infallible for something that errs?"
An excellent answer, proving, I said, that we are quite conscious of a distinction between them.
"That's an excellent answer," I said. "It proves we clearly recognize a distinction between them."
Yes.
"Yes."
Then knowledge and opinion having distinct powers have also distinct spheres or subject-matters?
"So if knowledge and opinion are different powers, do they also have different spheres or subjects?"
That is certain.
"That's certain."
Being is the sphere or subject-matter of knowledge, and knowledge is to know the nature of being?
"Is 'being' the subject of knowledge? Is knowledge simply knowing the nature of being?"
Yes.
"Yes."
And opinion is to have an opinion?
"So an opinion is just having an opinion?"
Yes.
"Yes."
And do we know what we opine? or is the subject-matter of opinion the same as the subject-matter of knowledge?
"Do we know what we believe? Or is the subject of opinion the same as the subject of knowledge?"
Nay, he replied, that has been already disproven; if difference in faculty implies difference in the sphere or subject-matter, and if, as we were saying, opinion and knowledge are distinct faculties, then the sphere of knowledge and of opinion cannot be the same.
"No," he replied. "That has already been disproved. If different faculties imply different spheres or subjects, and if, as we said, opinion and knowledge are distinct faculties, then they cannot have the same sphere."
Then if being is the subject-matter of knowledge, something else must be the subject-matter of opinion?
"So if 'being' is what knowledge is about, then something else must be what opinion is about?"
Yes, something else.
"Yes, something else."
Well then, is not-being the subject-matter of opinion? or, rather, how can there be an opinion at all about not-being? Reflect: when a man has an opinion, has he not an opinion about something? Can he have an opinion which is an opinion about nothing?
"So then, isn't nonexistence something people could have an opinion about? How could anyone have an opinion about nonexistence at all? Think about it. When someone has an opinion, isn't it always about something? Can anyone have an opinion about nothing?"
Impossible.
"Impossible."
He who has an opinion has an opinion about some one thing?
"If someone has an opinion, it's about a particular thing, isn't it?"
Yes.
"Yes."
And not-being is not one thing but, properly speaking, nothing?
"And non-being is not a thing at all, but simply nothing?"
True.
"True."
Of not-being, ignorance was assumed to be the necessary correlative; of being, knowledge?
"We assumed ignorance is the necessary counterpart of not-being. Is knowledge the counterpart of being?"
True, he said.
"True," he said.
Then opinion is not concerned either with being or with not-being?
"So opinion isn't about being or non-being?"
Not with either.
"Not with either one."
And can therefore neither be ignorance nor knowledge?
"So it can be neither ignorance nor knowledge?"
That seems to be true.
"That seems true."
But is opinion to be sought without and beyond either of them, in a greater clearness than knowledge, or in a greater darkness than ignorance?
"But should we look for opinion outside and beyond both? Is it clearer than knowledge, or darker than ignorance?"
In neither.
"Neither."
Then I suppose that opinion appears to you to be darker than knowledge, but lighter than ignorance?
"So you think opinion is darker than knowledge but lighter than ignorance?"
Both; and in no small degree.
"Both, and very much so."
And also to be within and between them?
"And also to be both inside them and between them?"
Yes.
"Yes."
Then you would infer that opinion is intermediate?
"So you would say that opinion is intermediate?"
No question.
"No question about it."
But were we not saying before, that if anything appeared to be of a sort which is and is not at the same time, that sort of thing would appear also to lie in the interval between pure being and absolute not-being; and that the corresponding faculty is neither knowledge nor ignorance, but will be found in the interval between them?
"Weren't we saying earlier that if something seems both to be and not to be? Doesn't that put it between pure being and absolute non-being? And isn't the mental faculty that corresponds to it neither knowledge nor ignorance, but something between the two?"
True.
"True."
And in that interval there has now been discovered something which we call opinion?
"And during that time we've discovered something we call opinion?"
There has.
"There has been."
Then what remains to be discovered is the object which partakes equally of the nature of being and not-being, and cannot rightly be termed either, pure and simple; this unknown term, when discovered, we may truly call the subject of opinion, and assign each to their proper faculty,—the extremes to the faculties of the extremes and the mean to the faculty of the mean.
"Then what's left to find is the thing that is partly being and partly not-being. It can't rightly be called either in a pure sense. When we find this unknown thing, we can call it the subject of opinion. We should assign each to its proper faculty: the extremes to the faculties of the extremes, and the mean to the faculty of the mean."
True.
"True."
This being premised, I would ask the gentleman who is of opinion that there is no absolute or unchangeable idea of beauty—in whose opinion the beautiful is the manifold—he, I say, your lover of beautiful sights, who cannot bear to be told that the beautiful is one, and the just is one, or that anything is one—to him I would appeal, saying, Will you be so very kind, sir, as to tell us whether, of all these beautiful things, there is one which will not be found ugly; or of the just, which will not be found unjust; or of the holy, which will not also be unholy?
"With that settled, I would like to ask the gentleman who thinks there is no absolute, unchanging idea of beauty. You believe beauty is many things. You, sir, who love beautiful sights and cannot bear to be told that the beautiful is one, or that the just is one, or that anything is one. I appeal to you. Will you kindly tell us whether, among all these beautiful things, there is any that will never be found ugly? Or among the just, any that will never be found unjust? Or among the holy, any that will never also be unholy?"
No, he replied; the beautiful will in some point of view be found ugly; and the same is true of the rest.
"No," he replied. "The beautiful will be seen as ugly from some point of view. The same is true of everything else."
And may not the many which are doubles be also halves?—doubles, that is, of one thing, and halves of another?
"Couldn't many things that are doubles also be halves? I mean, doubles of one thing and halves of another."
Quite true.
"That's true."
And things great and small, heavy and light, as they are termed, will not be denoted by these any more than by the opposite names?
"So things called great and small, heavy and light, won't be named this way more than by the opposite names?"
True; both these and the opposite names will always attach to all of them.
"True. Both these names and their opposites will always apply to all of them."
And can any one of those many things which are called by particular names be said to be this rather than not to be this?
"Can any of those many things we call by particular names be called 'this' rather than 'not this'?"
He replied: They are like the punning riddles which are asked at feasts or the children’s puzzle about the eunuch aiming at the bat, with what he hit him, as they say in the puzzle, and upon what the bat was sitting. The individual objects of which I am speaking are also a riddle, and have a double sense: nor can you fix them in your mind, either as being or not-being, or both, or neither.
He replied, "They are like the punning riddles asked at feasts, or the children's puzzle about the eunuch aiming at the bat. People ask, 'What did he hit it with?' and 'What was the bat sitting on?' The things I mean are the same kind of riddle. They have a double meaning. You cannot pin them down in your mind as being, or not being, or both, or neither."
Then what will you do with them? I said. Can they have a better place than between being and not-being? For they are clearly not in greater darkness or negation than not-being, or more full of light and existence than being.
"Then what will you do with them?" I said. "Can they have a better place than between being and not-being? They are clearly not in deeper darkness or greater negation than not-being. Nor are they fuller of light and existence than being."
That is quite true, he said.
"That's quite true," he said.
Thus then we seem to have discovered that the many ideas which the multitude entertain about the beautiful and about all other things are tossing about in some region which is half-way between pure being and pure not-being?
"So have we found that people's ideas about the beautiful and other things lie halfway between being and non-being?"
We have.
"We have."
Yes; and we had before agreed that anything of this kind which we might find was to be described as matter of opinion, and not as matter of knowledge; being the intermediate flux which is caught and detained by the intermediate faculty.
"Yes. We agreed earlier that anything like this should be called opinion, not knowledge. It is the intermediate flux that the intermediate faculty catches and holds."
Quite true.
"That's true."
Then those who see the many beautiful, and who yet neither see absolute beauty, nor can follow any guide who points the way thither; who see the many just, and not absolute justice, and the like,—such persons may be said to have opinion but not knowledge?
"Then what about those who see many beautiful things but do not see true Beauty? They cannot follow any guide who shows the way there. They see many just acts, but not true Justice. Are such people said to have opinion rather than knowledge?"
That is certain.
"That's certain."
But those who see the absolute and eternal and immutable may be said to know, and not to have opinion only?
"But those who see the absolute, the eternal, and the unchanging can be said to know. They do not only have opinions?"
Neither can that be denied.
"That can't be denied either."
The one love and embrace the subjects of knowledge, the other those of opinion? The latter are the same, as I dare say you will remember, who listened to sweet sounds and gazed upon fair colours, but would not tolerate the existence of absolute beauty.
"Do some love and embrace the objects of knowledge, and others the objects of opinion? The latter are, as you may recall, the ones who listen to sweet sounds and admire fair colors. They will not accept that absolute beauty exists."
Yes, I remember.
"Yes, I remember."
Shall we then be guilty of any impropriety in calling them lovers of opinion rather than lovers of wisdom, and will they be very angry with us for thus describing them?
"Will we be wrong to call them lovers of opinion instead of lovers of wisdom? Will they be very angry with us for saying that?"
I shall tell them not to be angry; no man should be angry at what is true.
"I'll tell them not to be angry. No one should be angry at the truth."
But those who love the truth in each thing are to be called lovers of wisdom and not lovers of opinion.
"But those who love the truth in everything should be called lovers of wisdom, not lovers of opinion."
Assuredly.
"Certainly."