And so, Glaucon, we have arrived at the conclusion that in the perfect State wives and children are to be in common; and that all education and the pursuits of war and peace are also to be common, and the best philosophers and the bravest warriors are to be their kings?
"So, Glaucon, we've come to the conclusion that in the perfect State wives and children are to be held in common. All education and the duties of war and peace are to be shared too. The best philosophers and the bravest warriors are to be its rulers?"
That, replied Glaucon, has been acknowledged.
"That's been agreed," Glaucon replied.
Yes, I said; and we have further acknowledged that the governors, when appointed themselves, will take their soldiers and place them in houses such as we were describing, which are common to all, and contain nothing private, or individual; and about their property, you remember what we agreed?
"Yes," I said. "We also agreed that when the governors are appointed, they will take their soldiers. They will place them in the kind of houses we described. Those houses will be shared by everyone and have nothing private or personal. Do you remember what we agreed about their property?"
Yes, I remember that no one was to have any of the ordinary possessions of mankind; they were to be warrior athletes and guardians, receiving from the other citizens, in lieu of annual payment, only their maintenance, and they were to take care of themselves and of the whole State.
"Yes, I remember. No one was to own ordinary personal possessions. They would be warrior athletes and guardians. They would receive only basic upkeep from the other citizens instead of an annual payment. They had to care for themselves and for the whole State."
True, I said; and now that this division of our task is concluded, let us find the point at which we digressed, that we may return into the old path.
"True," I said. "Now that we've divided the task, let's find where we digressed. Then we can return to the old path."
There is no difficulty in returning; you implied, then as now, that you had finished the description of the State: you said that such a State was good, and that the man was good who answered to it, although, as now appears, you had more excellent things to relate both of State and man. And you said further, that if this was the true form, then the others were false; and of the false forms, you said, as I remember, that there were four principal ones, and that their defects, and the defects of the individuals corresponding to them, were worth examining. When we had seen all the individuals, and finally agreed as to who was the best and who was the worst of them, we were to consider whether the best was not also the happiest, and the worst the most miserable. I asked you what were the four forms of government of which you spoke, and then Polemarchus and Adeimantus put in their word; and you began again, and have found your way to the point at which we have now arrived.
"There’s no problem going back. You suggested then, as you do now, that you had finished describing the State. You said that such a State was good, and that the man who matched it was good. But it turns out you had better things to say about both State and man. You also said that if this was the true form, the others were false. And, as I remember, you named four main false forms. Their faults, and the faults of the people who match them, were worth examining. After we had seen all those people and decided who was best and who was worst, we were to ask whether the best was also the happiest, and whether the worst was the most miserable. I asked you what the four forms of government were. Polemarchus and Adeimantus put in a word, and you started again, bringing us to the point we’ve now reached."
Your recollection, I said, is most exact.
"Your memory is exact," I said.
Then, like a wrestler, he replied, you must put yourself again in the same position; and let me ask the same questions, and do you give me the same answer which you were about to give me then.
Then, like a wrestler, he replied, "Put yourself in the same position again. Let me ask the same questions. Will you give me the same answer you were about to give me then?"
Yes, if I can, I will, I said.
"Yes, if I can, I will," I said.
I shall particularly wish to hear what were the four constitutions of which you were speaking.
"I'd especially like to hear about the four constitutions you mentioned."
That question, I said, is easily answered: the four governments of which I spoke, so far as they have distinct names, are, first, those of Crete and Sparta, which are generally applauded; what is termed oligarchy comes next; this is not equally approved, and is a form of government which teems with evils: thirdly, democracy, which naturally follows oligarchy, although very different: and lastly comes tyranny, great and famous, which differs from them all, and is the fourth and worst disorder of a State. I do not know, do you? of any other constitution which can be said to have a distinct character. There are lordships and principalities which are bought and sold, and some other intermediate forms of government. But these are nondescripts and may be found equally among Hellenes and among barbarians.
"That question," I said, "is easy to answer. The four governments I mentioned, as far as they have specific names, are these. First, the governments of Crete and Sparta, which are generally praised. Second comes what we call oligarchy. It is less admired and full of evils. Third is democracy. It naturally follows oligarchy, though it is very different. Last is tyranny, notorious and different from the others. It is the fourth and worst disorder of a state. I don't know of any other constitution with a clear character. Do you? There are also lordships and principalities that are bought and sold, and some other mixed forms of government. But those are undefined types. You find them among both Hellenes and barbarians."
Yes, he replied, we certainly hear of many curious forms of government which exist among them.
"Yes," he said. "We hear about many strange forms of government among them."
Do you know, I said, that governments vary as the dispositions of men vary, and that there must be as many of the one as there are of the other? For we cannot suppose that States are made of ‘oak and rock,’ and not out of the human natures which are in them, and which in a figure turn the scale and draw other things after them?
I said, "Do you know that governments change with people's dispositions? There must be as many kinds of government as there are kinds of people. We cannot suppose states are made of oak and rock instead of being made from the human characters within them. Those characters, as it were, tip the scale and pull other things after them."
Yes, he said, the States are as the men are; they grow out of human characters.
"Yes," he said. "States are like the people who form them. They come from people's characters."
Then if the constitutions of States are five, the dispositions of individual minds will also be five?
"Then if there are five kinds of state constitutions, will there also be five kinds of individual character?"
Certainly.
"Certainly."
Him who answers to aristocracy, and whom we rightly call just and good, we have already described.
"We've already described the man who corresponds to aristocracy. We rightly call him just and good."
We have.
"We have."
Then let us now proceed to describe the inferior sort of natures, being the contentious and ambitious, who answer to the Spartan polity; also the oligarchical, democratical, and tyrannical. Let us place the most just by the side of the most unjust, and when we see them we shall be able to compare the relative happiness or unhappiness of him who leads a life of pure justice or pure injustice. The enquiry will then be completed. And we shall know whether we ought to pursue injustice, as Thrasymachus advises, or in accordance with the conclusions of the argument to prefer justice.
"Now let's describe the lower kinds of character. First, the quarrelsome and ambitious, who correspond to the Spartan system. Also the oligarchic, the democratic, and the tyrannical. Put the most just person next to the most unjust. After that we can compare how happy or unhappy each is. One lives a life of pure justice. The other lives in pure injustice. That will complete the inquiry. Then we will know whether to follow Thrasymachus and pursue injustice, or to accept the argument's conclusion and prefer justice."
Certainly, he replied, we must do as you say.
"Certainly," he replied. "We must do as you say."
Shall we follow our old plan, which we adopted with a view to clearness, of taking the State first and then proceeding to the individual, and begin with the government of honour?—I know of no name for such a government other than timocracy, or perhaps timarchy. We will compare with this the like character in the individual; and, after that, consider oligarchy and the oligarchical man; and then again we will turn our attention to democracy and the democratical man; and lastly, we will go and view the city of tyranny, and once more take a look into the tyrant’s soul, and try to arrive at a satisfactory decision.
"Shall we stick to our old plan for clarity? First examine the State, then the individual. Let's begin with the government of honor. I know no better name for it than timocracy, or maybe timarchy. We will compare that government to the similar character in a person. After that we will consider oligarchy and the oligarchic man. Then we will turn to democracy and the democratic man. Finally, we will visit the city of tyranny and look once more into the tyrant's soul, trying to reach a clear decision."
That way of viewing and judging of the matter will be very suitable.
"That's a suitable way to look at and judge the matter."
First, then, I said, let us enquire how timocracy (the government of honour) arises out of aristocracy (the government of the best). Clearly, all political changes originate in divisions of the actual governing power; a government which is united, however small, cannot be moved.
"First," I said, "let's examine how timocracy (the government of honor) arises from aristocracy (the government of the best). Clearly, all political changes start from splits in the actual ruling power. A united government, no matter how small, cannot be moved."
Very true, he said.
"That's very true," he said.
In what way, then, will our city be moved, and in what manner will the two classes of auxiliaries and rulers disagree among themselves or with one another? Shall we, after the manner of Homer, pray the Muses to tell us ‘how discord first arose’? Shall we imagine them in solemn mockery, to play and jest with us as if we were children, and to address us in a lofty tragic vein, making believe to be in earnest?
"How will our city be shaken? How will the two classes, auxiliaries and rulers, disagree among themselves or with each other? Shall we, like Homer, call on the Muses to tell us "how discord first arose"? Or should we picture them mocking us in solemn play, treating us like children? Will they speak in a lofty, tragic tone and pretend to be serious?"
How would they address us?
"How would they address us?"
After this manner:—A city which is thus constituted can hardly be shaken; but, seeing that everything which has a beginning has also an end, even a constitution such as yours will not last for ever, but will in time be dissolved. And this is the dissolution:—In plants that grow in the earth, as well as in animals that move on the earth’s surface, fertility and sterility of soul and body occur when the circumferences of the circles of each are completed, which in short-lived existences pass over a short space, and in long-lived ones over a long space. But to the knowledge of human fecundity and sterility all the wisdom and education of your rulers will not attain; the laws which regulate them will not be discovered by an intelligence which is alloyed with sense, but will escape them, and they will bring children into the world when they ought not. Now that which is of divine birth has a period which is contained in a perfect number (i.e. a cyclical number, such as 6, which is equal to the sum of its divisors 1, 2, 3, so that when the circle or time represented by 6 is completed, the lesser times or rotations represented by 1, 2, 3 are also completed.), but the period of human birth is comprehended in a number in which first increments by involution and evolution (or squared and cubed) obtaining three intervals and four terms of like and unlike, waxing and waning numbers, make all the terms commensurable and agreeable to one another. (Probably the numbers 3, 4, 5, 6 of which the three first = the sides of the Pythagorean triangle. The terms will then be 3 cubed, 4 cubed, 5 cubed, which together = 6 cubed = 216.) The base of these (3) with a third added (4) when combined with five (20) and raised to the third power furnishes two harmonies; the first a square which is a hundred times as great (400 = 4 x 100) (Or the first a square which is 100 x 100 = 10,000. The whole number will then be 17,500 = a square of 100, and an oblong of 100 by 75.), and the other a figure having one side equal to the former, but oblong, consisting of a hundred numbers squared upon rational diameters of a square (i.e. omitting fractions), the side of which is five (7 x 7 = 49 x 100 = 4900), each of them being less by one (than the perfect square which includes the fractions, sc. 50) or less by (Or, ‘consisting of two numbers squared upon irrational diameters,’ etc. = 100. For other explanations of the passage see Introduction.) two perfect squares of irrational diameters (of a square the side of which is five = 50 + 50 = 100); and a hundred cubes of three (27 x 100 = 2700 + 4900 + 400 = 8000). Now this number represents a geometrical figure which has control over the good and evil of births. For when your guardians are ignorant of the law of births, and unite bride and bridegroom out of season, the children will not be goodly or fortunate. And though only the best of them will be appointed by their predecessors, still they will be unworthy to hold their fathers’ places, and when they come into power as guardians, they will soon be found to fail in taking care of us, the Muses, first by under-valuing music; which neglect will soon extend to gymnastic; and hence the young men of your State will be less cultivated. In the succeeding generation rulers will be appointed who have lost the guardian power of testing the metal of your different races, which, like Hesiod’s, are of gold and silver and brass and iron. And so iron will be mingled with silver, and brass with gold, and hence there will arise dissimilarity and inequality and irregularity, which always and in all places are causes of hatred and war. This the Muses affirm to be the stock from which discord has sprung, wherever arising; and this is their answer to us.
"In this way: a city built like that is hard to shake. Still, everything that has a beginning also has an end. Even a constitution like yours will not last forever. It will break down in time. This is how the breakdown happens. In both plants that grow in the ground and animals that move on the earth, cycles of fertility and sterility occur when their life-circles are completed. In short-lived creatures those cycles cover a short span. In long-lived creatures they cover a long span. But no amount of wisdom or training by your rulers will make them know the timing of human fertility. The laws that govern it cannot be found by an intelligence mixed with sense alone. Those rulers will bring children into the world at the wrong times. Things of divine birth follow a perfect cycle. A simple example is the number six, which equals the sum of its parts, one, two, and three. When the cycle represented by six completes, the smaller cycles represented by one, two, and three also complete. Human birth, by contrast, follows a more complex period. It is tied to numbers like three, four, and five, whose cubes add up to the cube of six. In other words, three cubed plus four cubed plus five cubed equals six cubed, which is 216. Combining those base numbers and raising them to the third power produces harmonies and geometric figures that govern good and bad births. This number, then, stands for a geometric form that controls the quality of births. When your guardians do not understand this law and join bride and bridegroom out of season, the children will not be fine or fortunate. Even if only the best among them are chosen by their predecessors, they will still be unfit to take their fathers' places. When they come to power as guardians, they will soon fail the Muses. First they will undervalue music. That neglect will quickly spread to gymnastics, and your young people will be less well educated. In the next generation rulers will be chosen who have lost the skill of testing the metal in different kinds of people. Like Hesiod’s ages of gold, silver, bronze, and iron, these breeds get mixed. Iron will be mixed with silver, brass with gold. From such mixtures come difference, inequality, and disorder. Those things breed hatred and war wherever they occur. The Muses say that this is the stock from which discord springs. That is their answer to us."
Yes, and we may assume that they answer truly.
"Yes, and we can assume they answer truthfully."
Why, yes, I said, of course they answer truly; how can the Muses speak falsely?
"Yes," I said. "Of course they tell the truth. How could the Muses lie?"
And what do the Muses say next?
"And what do the Muses say next?"
When discord arose, then the two races were drawn different ways: the iron and brass fell to acquiring money and land and houses and gold and silver; but the gold and silver races, not wanting money but having the true riches in their own nature, inclined towards virtue and the ancient order of things. There was a battle between them, and at last they agreed to distribute their land and houses among individual owners; and they enslaved their friends and maintainers, whom they had formerly protected in the condition of freemen, and made of them subjects and servants; and they themselves were engaged in war and in keeping a watch against them.
When conflict broke out, the two groups moved in different directions. The iron and brass people turned to seeking wealth, chasing land, houses, gold, and silver. The gold and silver people did not want money. Their true riches lay in their nature, so they favored virtue and the old order. They fought, and finally agreed to divide land and houses into private ownership. They enslaved the friends and supporters they had once protected as free people. The new owners kept watch and waged war against those they had made slaves.
I believe that you have rightly conceived the origin of the change.
"I think you've correctly grasped how the change began."
And the new government which thus arises will be of a form intermediate between oligarchy and aristocracy?
"So the new government that emerges will be somewhere between an oligarchy and an aristocracy?"
Very true.
"That's true."
Such will be the change, and after the change has been made, how will they proceed? Clearly, the new State, being in a mean between oligarchy and the perfect State, will partly follow one and partly the other, and will also have some peculiarities.
"That will be the change. After it happens, how will they proceed? Clearly, the new State will stand between oligarchy and the perfect State. It will take parts from both and develop its own peculiar features."
True, he said.
"True," he said.
In the honour given to rulers, in the abstinence of the warrior class from agriculture, handicrafts, and trade in general, in the institution of common meals, and in the attention paid to gymnastics and military training—in all these respects this State will resemble the former.
"In the honor shown to rulers, this State will resemble the former. The warrior class will avoid farming, crafts, and trade. It will also maintain common meals and stress gymnastics and military training."
True.
"True."
But in the fear of admitting philosophers to power, because they are no longer to be had simple and earnest, but are made up of mixed elements; and in turning from them to passionate and less complex characters, who are by nature fitted for war rather than peace; and in the value set by them upon military stratagems and contrivances, and in the waging of everlasting wars—this State will be for the most part peculiar.
"But they fear letting philosophers rule. They think philosophers are no longer simple and earnest. Instead, philosophers are mixed in character. So they turn to passionate, less complex men. These men are by nature suited to war, not to peace. They value military schemes and devices. They wage endless wars. In these ways the State will become largely peculiar."
Yes.
"Yes."
Yes, I said; and men of this stamp will be covetous of money, like those who live in oligarchies; they will have, a fierce secret longing after gold and silver, which they will hoard in dark places, having magazines and treasuries of their own for the deposit and concealment of them; also castles which are just nests for their eggs, and in which they will spend large sums on their wives, or on any others whom they please.
"Yes," I said. "Men of this sort will be greedy for money, like those in oligarchies. They will have a fierce, secret longing for gold and silver. They will hoard it in dark places. They will keep their own storehouses and treasuries to hide it. They will also have castles that are only nests for their eggs. There they will spend large sums on their wives or on anyone else they please."
That is most true, he said.
"That's absolutely true," he said.
And they are miserly because they have no means of openly acquiring the money which they prize; they will spend that which is another man’s on the gratification of their desires, stealing their pleasures and running away like children from the law, their father: they have been schooled not by gentle influences but by force, for they have neglected her who is the true Muse, the companion of reason and philosophy, and have honoured gymnastic more than music.
"They're stingy because they can't openly get the money they want. They spend other people's money to satisfy their desires. They steal their pleasures and run away from the law like children fleeing their father. They were taught not by gentle guidance but by force. They have neglected the true Muse, the companion of reason and philosophy. They have valued physical training more than music."
Undoubtedly, he said, the form of government which you describe is a mixture of good and evil.
"Undoubtedly," he said. "The form of government you describe is a mix of good and evil."
Why, there is a mixture, I said; but one thing, and one thing only, is predominantly seen,—the spirit of contention and ambition; and these are due to the prevalence of the passionate or spirited element.
"There's a mixture," I said. "But one thing and one thing only stands out. It's the spirit of contention and ambition. These come from the dominance of the spirited element."
Assuredly, he said.
"Certainly," he said.
Such is the origin and such the character of this State, which has been described in outline only; the more perfect execution was not required, for a sketch is enough to show the type of the most perfectly just and most perfectly unjust; and to go through all the States and all the characters of men, omitting none of them, would be an interminable labour.
"This is the origin and character of this State. I have only outlined it. A fully detailed account was unnecessary. A sketch is enough to show the type of the perfectly just and the perfectly unjust. To go through every State and every human character, leaving none out, would be an endless task."
Very true, he replied.
"That's true," he said.
Now what man answers to this form of government-how did he come into being, and what is he like?
"Now who fits this form of government? How did he come to be? What is he like?"
I think, said Adeimantus, that in the spirit of contention which characterises him, he is not unlike our friend Glaucon.
"I think," Adeimantus said. "His argumentative spirit makes him much like our friend Glaucon."
Perhaps, I said, he may be like him in that one point; but there are other respects in which he is very different.
"Maybe," I said, "he's like him in that one way. In other ways, he's very different."
In what respects?
"In what ways?"
He should have more of self-assertion and be less cultivated, and yet a friend of culture; and he should be a good listener, but no speaker. Such a person is apt to be rough with slaves, unlike the educated man, who is too proud for that; and he will also be courteous to freemen, and remarkably obedient to authority; he is a lover of power and a lover of honour; claiming to be a ruler, not because he is eloquent, or on any ground of that sort, but because he is a soldier and has performed feats of arms; he is also a lover of gymnastic exercises and of the chase.
"He should be more assertive and less refined, yet still value culture. He should listen well but not talk much. Such a man tends to be rough with slaves, unlike the educated man who is too proud for that. He will be polite to free men and very obedient to authority. He loves power and honor. He claims the right to rule not for his eloquence. He does so because he is a soldier who has fought well. He also loves physical training and the hunt."
Yes, that is the type of character which answers to timocracy.
"Yes, that's the kind of character that fits a timocracy."
Such an one will despise riches only when he is young; but as he gets older he will be more and more attracted to them, because he has a piece of the avaricious nature in him, and is not single-minded towards virtue, having lost his best guardian.
"Such a person will scorn riches only when he is young. As he grows older, he will be more and more attracted to them. He has a streak of greed, and he is not single-minded about virtue, having lost his best guardian."
Who was that? said Adeimantus.
"Who was that?" Adeimantus asked.
Philosophy, I said, tempered with music, who comes and takes up her abode in a man, and is the only saviour of his virtue throughout life.
"Philosophy," I said, "tempered by music, comes and makes its home in a person. It is the only savior of their virtue throughout life."
Good, he said.
"Good," he said.
Such, I said, is the timocratical youth, and he is like the timocratical State.
"That's the timocratic youth," I said. "He is like the timocratic State."
Exactly.
"Exactly."
His origin is as follows:—He is often the young son of a brave father, who dwells in an ill-governed city, of which he declines the honours and offices, and will not go to law, or exert himself in any way, but is ready to waive his rights in order that he may escape trouble.
"His origin is simple. He is often the young son of a brave father who lives in a poorly governed city. He declines the city's honors and offices. He won't go to court or exert himself in any way. He is ready to give up his rights to avoid trouble."
And how does the son come into being?
"So how does a son come to be?"
The character of the son begins to develope when he hears his mother complaining that her husband has no place in the government, of which the consequence is that she has no precedence among other women. Further, when she sees her husband not very eager about money, and instead of battling and railing in the law courts or assembly, taking whatever happens to him quietly; and when she observes that his thoughts always centre in himself, while he treats her with very considerable indifference, she is annoyed, and says to her son that his father is only half a man and far too easy-going: adding all the other complaints about her own ill-treatment which women are so fond of rehearsing.
The son's character begins to develop when he hears his mother complaining. She says her husband has no place in the government, so she has no standing among other women. She sees that he is not eager for money. Instead of fighting in the courts or the assembly, he accepts whatever happens quietly. She notices his thoughts always turn inward and that he treats her with clear indifference. Angry, she says to her son, "Your father is only half a man and far too easy-going." Then she repeats the usual complaints about how badly she has been treated.
Yes, said Adeimantus, they give us plenty of them, and their complaints are so like themselves.
"Yes," said Adeimantus. "They give us plenty of them. Their complaints are just like them."
And you know, I said, that the old servants also, who are supposed to be attached to the family, from time to time talk privately in the same strain to the son; and if they see any one who owes money to his father, or is wronging him in any way, and he fails to prosecute them, they tell the youth that when he grows up he must retaliate upon people of this sort, and be more of a man than his father. He has only to walk abroad and he hears and sees the same sort of thing: those who do their own business in the city are called simpletons, and held in no esteem, while the busy-bodies are honoured and applauded. The result is that the young man, hearing and seeing all these things—hearing, too, the words of his father, and having a nearer view of his way of life, and making comparisons of him and others—is drawn opposite ways: while his father is watering and nourishing the rational principle in his soul, the others are encouraging the passionate and appetitive; and he being not originally of a bad nature, but having kept bad company, is at last brought by their joint influence to a middle point, and gives up the kingdom which is within him to the middle principle of contentiousness and passion, and becomes arrogant and ambitious.
"And you know," I said, "that the old servants who are loyal to the household sometimes tell the son the same things in private. If they see someone who owes the father money or is mistreating him, and the father does nothing, they tell the boy that when he grows up he must take revenge and be more of a man than his father. He only has to go outside and he sees and hears the same thing. People who mind their own business are called simpletons and have no respect, while busybodies are praised and admired. As a result, the young man hears and sees all this. He also hears his father's words and watches his life up close. He compares his father to others and is pulled in opposite directions. While his father is trying to nourish reason in his son's soul, the others encourage desire and passion. The boy was not born bad. But bad company changes him. Gradually the two influences meet in the middle. He hands over the kingdom within him to quarrelsome, passionate impulses and becomes proud and ambitious."
You seem to me to have described his origin perfectly.
"I think you've described his origin perfectly."
Then we have now, I said, the second form of government and the second type of character?
I said, "So now we have the second form of government and the second type of character?"
We have.
"We have."
Next, let us look at another man who, as Aeschylus says,
"Next, let's look at another man who, as Aeschylus says,"
‘Is set over against another State;’
"Is set opposite another State."
or rather, as our plan requires, begin with the State.
"Or rather, since our plan requires it, let's begin with the State."
By all means.
"Go ahead."
I believe that oligarchy follows next in order.
"I think oligarchy comes next."
And what manner of government do you term oligarchy?
"And what kind of government do you call an oligarchy?"
A government resting on a valuation of property, in which the rich have power and the poor man is deprived of it.
"A government based on property values. The rich hold power, and the poor are denied it."
I understand, he replied.
"I understand," he replied.
Ought I not to begin by describing how the change from timocracy to oligarchy arises?
"Shouldn't I start by explaining how timocracy turns into oligarchy?"
Yes.
"Yes."
Well, I said, no eyes are required in order to see how the one passes into the other.
"Well," I said, "you don't need eyes to see how one becomes the other."
How?
"How?"
The accumulation of gold in the treasury of private individuals is the ruin of timocracy; they invent illegal modes of expenditure; for what do they or their wives care about the law?
"The accumulation of gold in private treasuries ruins a timocracy. They invent illegal ways to spend it. What do they or their wives care about the law?"
Yes, indeed.
"Yes, certainly."
And then one, seeing another grow rich, seeks to rival him, and thus the great mass of the citizens become lovers of money.
"When someone sees another get rich, they try to compete with them. In this way the majority of citizens become lovers of money."
Likely enough.
"That seems likely."
And so they grow richer and richer, and the more they think of making a fortune the less they think of virtue; for when riches and virtue are placed together in the scales of the balance, the one always rises as the other falls.
"And so they get richer and richer. The more they focus on making a fortune, the less they care about virtue. If you put wealth and virtue on opposite sides of a scale, one side always rises as the other falls."
True.
"True."
And in proportion as riches and rich men are honoured in the State, virtue and the virtuous are dishonoured.
"And when wealth and the wealthy are honored in the State, virtue and virtuous people are dishonored."
Clearly.
"Clearly."
And what is honoured is cultivated, and that which has no honour is neglected.
"What is honored is cared for. What has no honor is neglected."
That is obvious.
"That's obvious."
And so at last, instead of loving contention and glory, men become lovers of trade and money; they honour and look up to the rich man, and make a ruler of him, and dishonour the poor man.
"So in the end, instead of loving rivalry and glory, people come to love trade and money. They honor and admire the rich. They make him their ruler and look down on the poor."
They do so.
"They do."
They next proceed to make a law which fixes a sum of money as the qualification of citizenship; the sum is higher in one place and lower in another, as the oligarchy is more or less exclusive; and they allow no one whose property falls below the amount fixed to have any share in the government. These changes in the constitution they effect by force of arms, if intimidation has not already done their work.
"Next, they pass a law that sets a sum of money as the qualification for citizenship. The amount is higher in some places and lower in others, depending on how exclusive the oligarchy is. No one whose property falls below that amount may take part in government. They enforce these changes to the constitution by force if intimidation hasn't already done the job."
Very true.
"That's true."
And this, speaking generally, is the way in which oligarchy is established.
"This is generally how an oligarchy is established."
Yes, he said; but what are the characteristics of this form of government, and what are the defects of which we were speaking?
"Yes," he said. "But what are the features of this form of government? What are the faults we were discussing?"
First of all, I said, consider the nature of the qualification. Just think what would happen if pilots were to be chosen according to their property, and a poor man were refused permission to steer, even though he were a better pilot?
"First, I said, think about what the qualification really is. Imagine if pilots were chosen for their wealth. A poor man might be refused permission to steer, even if he were the better pilot."
You mean that they would shipwreck?
"Do you mean they'd be shipwrecked?"
Yes; and is not this true of the government of anything?
"Yes. Isn't that true of how anything is governed?"
I should imagine so.
"I suppose so."
Except a city?—or would you include a city?
"Except a city? Or would you include a city?"
Nay, he said, the case of a city is the strongest of all, inasmuch as the rule of a city is the greatest and most difficult of all.
"No," he said. "The case of a city is the strongest of all. Ruling a city is the greatest and most difficult of all."
This, then, will be the first great defect of oligarchy?
"So this will be the first major flaw of oligarchy?"
Clearly.
"Clearly."
And here is another defect which is quite as bad.
"Here's another flaw that's just as bad."
What defect?
"What’s the defect?"
The inevitable division: such a State is not one, but two States, the one of poor, the other of rich men; and they are living on the same spot and always conspiring against one another.
"The split is inevitable. Such a State is not one but two States. One is the State of the poor, the other of the rich. They live in the same place and are always plotting against each other."
That, surely, is at least as bad.
"That's at least as bad."
Another discreditable feature is, that, for a like reason, they are incapable of carrying on any war. Either they arm the multitude, and then they are more afraid of them than of the enemy; or, if they do not call them out in the hour of battle, they are oligarchs indeed, few to fight as they are few to rule. And at the same time their fondness for money makes them unwilling to pay taxes.
"Another disgrace is that, for the same reason, they cannot wage war. They either arm the masses, and then fear them more than the enemy. Or, if they do not call the people out in battle, they truly are oligarchs. They are few to fight and few to rule. At the same time, their love of money makes them unwilling to pay taxes."
How discreditable!
"How disgraceful!"
And, as we said before, under such a constitution the same persons have too many callings—they are husbandmen, tradesmen, warriors, all in one. Does that look well?
"As we said earlier, in such a system the same people have too many roles. They are farmers, tradespeople, and soldiers all at once. Does that seem right?"
Anything but well.
"Not well at all."
There is another evil which is, perhaps, the greatest of all, and to which this State first begins to be liable.
"There is another evil, perhaps the greatest of all. This State is the first to be vulnerable to it."
What evil?
"What harm?"
A man may sell all that he has, and another may acquire his property; yet after the sale he may dwell in the city of which he is no longer a part, being neither trader, nor artisan, nor horseman, nor hoplite, but only a poor, helpless creature.
"A man may sell everything he owns, and someone else may buy his property. After the sale he may still live in the city, though he is no longer part of it. He is neither trader, artisan, horseman, nor hoplite. He is only a poor, helpless creature."
Yes, that is an evil which also first begins in this State.
"Yes, that evil also first appears in this State."
The evil is certainly not prevented there; for oligarchies have both the extremes of great wealth and utter poverty.
"That evil is not prevented there. Oligarchies have both extreme wealth and extreme poverty."
True.
"True."
But think again: In his wealthy days, while he was spending his money, was a man of this sort a whit more good to the State for the purposes of citizenship? Or did he only seem to be a member of the ruling body, although in truth he was neither ruler nor subject, but just a spendthrift?
"But think again. When he was rich and spent money, was a man like that any better for the state as a citizen? Or did he only seem to belong to the ruling class? In truth he was neither ruler nor subject, but just a spendthrift."
As you say, he seemed to be a ruler, but was only a spendthrift.
"As you say, he seemed like a ruler. He was only a spendthrift."
May we not say that this is the drone in the house who is like the drone in the honeycomb, and that the one is the plague of the city as the other is of the hive?
"Can we not say that this is the drone of the house, like the drone in the hive? One is a plague on the city, just as the other is on the hive."
Just so, Socrates.
"Exactly, Socrates."
And God has made the flying drones, Adeimantus, all without stings, whereas of the walking drones he has made some without stings but others have dreadful stings; of the stingless class are those who in their old age end as paupers; of the stingers come all the criminal class, as they are termed.
"God made the flying drones, Adeimantus. They are all stingless. But among the walking drones, some are stingless and others have terrible stings. The stingless ones end up poor in old age. All the criminals, as they are called, come from the stinging kind."
Most true, he said.
"That's very true," he said.
Clearly then, whenever you see paupers in a State, somewhere in that neighborhood there are hidden away thieves, and cut-purses and robbers of temples, and all sorts of malefactors.
"Clearly, then, when you see paupers in a state, there are likely hidden thieves nearby. Pickpockets, temple robbers, and all kinds of criminals."
Clearly.
"Clearly."
Well, I said, and in oligarchical States do you not find paupers?
"Well," I said, "don't oligarchies have poor people?"
Yes, he said; nearly everybody is a pauper who is not a ruler.
"Yes," he said. "Almost everyone who isn't a ruler is poor."
And may we be so bold as to affirm that there are also many criminals to be found in them, rogues who have stings, and whom the authorities are careful to restrain by force?
"Shall we say there are also many criminals among them, dangerous rogues whom the authorities carefully restrain by force?"
Certainly, we may be so bold.
"Yes, we can be that bold."
The existence of such persons is to be attributed to want of education, ill-training, and an evil constitution of the State?
"Is their existence caused by a lack of education and poor training? Or by a corrupt State?"
True.
"True."
Such, then, is the form and such are the evils of oligarchy; and there may be many other evils.
"So this is the form of oligarchy and these are its evils. There may be many others."
Very likely.
"Very likely."
Then oligarchy, or the form of government in which the rulers are elected for their wealth, may now be dismissed. Let us next proceed to consider the nature and origin of the individual who answers to this State.
"We can dismiss oligarchy for now. It is the government where rulers are chosen for their wealth. Next, let's consider the nature and origin of the individual who corresponds to this State."
By all means.
"Go ahead."
Does not the timocratical man change into the oligarchical on this wise?
"Doesn't the timocratic man change into the oligarchic one in this way?"
How?
"How?"
A time arrives when the representative of timocracy has a son: at first he begins by emulating his father and walking in his footsteps, but presently he sees him of a sudden foundering against the State as upon a sunken reef, and he and all that he has is lost; he may have been a general or some other high officer who is brought to trial under a prejudice raised by informers, and either put to death, or exiled, or deprived of the privileges of a citizen, and all his property taken from him.
"A time comes when a man of the timocratic class has a son. At first the son copies his father and follows his path. But soon he sees his father suddenly wrecked against the state like a ship on a hidden reef. The father and everything he owned are lost. He may have been a general or some other high officer. He is put on trial because of accusations from informers. He may be executed, exiled, stripped of his citizen rights, and have all his property taken."
Nothing more likely.
"Nothing could be more likely."
And the son has seen and known all this—he is a ruined man, and his fear has taught him to knock ambition and passion headforemost from his bosom’s throne; humbled by poverty he takes to money-making and by mean and miserly savings and hard work gets a fortune together. Is not such an one likely to seat the concupiscent and covetous element on the vacant throne and to suffer it to play the great king within him, girt with tiara and chain and scimitar?
"The son has seen and known all this. He is a ruined man. Fear has taught him to knock ambition and passion headfirst from his heart's throne. Humbled by poverty, he turns to making money. By small, miserly savings and hard work he puts together a fortune. Isn't such a man likely to seat the lustful and greedy part on that vacant throne? Won't he let it act as the great king inside him, crowned and armed with a tiara, chains, and a scimitar?"
Most true, he replied.
"Very true," he replied.
And when he has made reason and spirit sit down on the ground obediently on either side of their sovereign, and taught them to know their place, he compels the one to think only of how lesser sums may be turned into larger ones, and will not allow the other to worship and admire anything but riches and rich men, or to be ambitious of anything so much as the acquisition of wealth and the means of acquiring it.
"He makes reason and spirit sit obediently on either side of their ruler. He teaches them to know their place. One is forced to think only about turning small sums into larger ones. He trains the other to worship nothing but wealth and rich people. Its main ambition becomes getting money and the ways to get it."
Of all changes, he said, there is none so speedy or so sure as the conversion of the ambitious youth into the avaricious one.
"Of all changes," he said, "none is as quick or as certain as an ambitious youth becoming greedy."
And the avaricious, I said, is the oligarchical youth?
"And the greedy one," I said, "is he the oligarchic youth?"
Yes, he said; at any rate the individual out of whom he came is like the State out of which oligarchy came.
"Yes," he said. "In any case, the individual he comes from is like the state that produced oligarchy."
Let us then consider whether there is any likeness between them.
"Let's consider whether they resemble each other."
Very good.
"Very good."
First, then, they resemble one another in the value which they set upon wealth?
"So first, they are alike in how much they value wealth?"
Certainly.
"Of course."
Also in their penurious, laborious character; the individual only satisfies his necessary appetites, and confines his expenditure to them; his other desires he subdues, under the idea that they are unprofitable.
With a frugal, hardworking character, the individual only satisfies necessary appetites. He limits his spending to those needs. He suppresses other desires because he thinks they are unprofitable.
True.
"True."
He is a shabby fellow, who saves something out of everything and makes a purse for himself; and this is the sort of man whom the vulgar applaud. Is he not a true image of the State which he represents?
"He's a shabby fellow who skims a little from everything to line his own pockets. This is the kind of man ordinary people applaud. Isn't he a true image of the State he represents?"
He appears to me to be so; at any rate money is highly valued by him as well as by the State.
"He seems that way to me. In any case, he values money highly, as does the State."
You see that he is not a man of cultivation, I said.
"You see he is not a cultured man," I said.
I imagine not, he said; had he been educated he would never have made a blind god director of his chorus, or given him chief honour.
"I don't think so," he said. "If he had been educated, he would never have made a blind god the director of his chorus. He would not have given him the chief honor."
Excellent! I said. Yet consider: Must we not further admit that owing to this want of cultivation there will be found in him dronelike desires as of pauper and rogue, which are forcibly kept down by his general habit of life?
"Excellent!" I said. "Must we not admit that, lacking cultivation, he will have drone-like desires like a pauper or rogue? Those desires are only kept down by his usual habits."
True.
"True."
Do you know where you will have to look if you want to discover his rogueries?
"Do you know where you'll have to look if you want to find his tricks?"
Where must I look?
"Where should I look?"
You should see him where he has some great opportunity of acting dishonestly, as in the guardianship of an orphan.
"You should watch him when he has a big chance to act dishonestly. For example, when he is guardian of an orphan."
Aye.
"Yes."
It will be clear enough then that in his ordinary dealings which give him a reputation for honesty he coerces his bad passions by an enforced virtue; not making them see that they are wrong, or taming them by reason, but by necessity and fear constraining them, and because he trembles for his possessions.
"It will then be clear. In his everyday dealings that win him a reputation for honesty, he keeps his bad passions in check by a forced virtue. He does not make them see they are wrong or tame them with reason. Instead, necessity and fear hold them back because he fears for his possessions."
To be sure.
"Certainly."
Yes, indeed, my dear friend, but you will find that the natural desires of the drone commonly exist in him all the same whenever he has to spend what is not his own.
"Yes, indeed, my dear friend. You'll find a drone's natural desires still surface whenever he has to spend someone else's money."
Yes, and they will be strong in him too.
"Yes, they will be strong in him too."
The man, then, will be at war with himself; he will be two men, and not one; but, in general, his better desires will be found to prevail over his inferior ones.
"He will be at war with himself. He will be two people, not one. Usually his better desires will prevail over the weaker ones."
True.
"True."
For these reasons such an one will be more respectable than most people; yet the true virtue of a unanimous and harmonious soul will flee far away and never come near him.
"Because of this, such a person will appear more respectable than most people. But the true virtue of a united, harmonious soul will stay far away. It will never come near him."
I should expect so.
"I would expect so."
And surely, the miser individually will be an ignoble competitor in a State for any prize of victory, or other object of honourable ambition; he will not spend his money in the contest for glory; so afraid is he of awakening his expensive appetites and inviting them to help and join in the struggle; in true oligarchical fashion he fights with a small part only of his resources, and the result commonly is that he loses the prize and saves his money.
"Surely a miser will be a dishonorable competitor in a state for any prize or other honorable goal. He will not spend his money to compete for glory. He is so afraid of waking his costly appetites that he refuses to invite them to join the struggle. In true oligarchic fashion he fights using only a small part of his resources. The usual result is that he loses the prize and keeps his money."
Very true.
"Very true."
Can we any longer doubt, then, that the miser and money-maker answers to the oligarchical State?
"Can we still doubt, then, that the miser and the money-maker match the oligarchic state?"
There can be no doubt.
"There is no doubt."
Next comes democracy; of this the origin and nature have still to be considered by us; and then we will enquire into the ways of the democratic man, and bring him up for judgment.
"Next comes democracy. We still need to consider its origin and nature. Then we will examine the democratic man's ways and judge him."
That, he said, is our method.
"That's our method," he said.
Well, I said, and how does the change from oligarchy into democracy arise? Is it not on this wise?—The good at which such a State aims is to become as rich as possible, a desire which is insatiable?
"Well," I said, "how does an oligarchy change into a democracy? Isn't it like this? The goal of such a state is to get as rich as possible. That desire is never satisfied."
What then?
"What now?"
The rulers, being aware that their power rests upon their wealth, refuse to curtail by law the extravagance of the spendthrift youth because they gain by their ruin; they take interest from them and buy up their estates and thus increase their own wealth and importance?
"Rulers know their power depends on their wealth. They refuse to pass laws to curb young spendthrifts' extravagance because they profit from their ruin. They charge them interest and buy their estates, and so increase their wealth and importance?"
To be sure.
"Of course."
There can be no doubt that the love of wealth and the spirit of moderation cannot exist together in citizens of the same state to any considerable extent; one or the other will be disregarded.
"There is no doubt. A love of wealth and a spirit of moderation cannot both exist among citizens of the same state. One or the other will be ignored."
That is tolerably clear.
"That's clear enough."
And in oligarchical States, from the general spread of carelessness and extravagance, men of good family have often been reduced to beggary?
"In oligarchies, when carelessness and extravagance spread, aren't people from good families often reduced to begging?"
Yes, often.
"Yes, often."
And still they remain in the city; there they are, ready to sting and fully armed, and some of them owe money, some have forfeited their citizenship; a third class are in both predicaments; and they hate and conspire against those who have got their property, and against everybody else, and are eager for revolution.
"And they are still in the city. They are there, armed and ready to strike. Some owe money. Some have been stripped of their citizenship. A third group is in both situations. They hate and plot against those who took their property and against everyone else. They want a revolution."
That is true.
"That's true."
On the other hand, the men of business, stooping as they walk, and pretending not even to see those whom they have already ruined, insert their sting—that is, their money—into some one else who is not on his guard against them, and recover the parent sum many times over multiplied into a family of children: and so they make drone and pauper to abound in the State.
"On the other hand, the men of business stoop as they walk and pretend not to see those they have already ruined. They stick their sting, their money, into someone who isn't on guard. They recover the original sum many times over, as it multiplies into a family of children. So they fill the state with drones and paupers."
Yes, he said, there are plenty of them—that is certain.
"Yes," he said, "there are plenty of them. That's certain."
The evil blazes up like a fire; and they will not extinguish it, either by restricting a man’s use of his own property, or by another remedy:
"The evil blazes up like a fire. They will not extinguish it by restricting a man's use of his property or by any other remedy."
What other?
"What else?"
One which is the next best, and has the advantage of compelling the citizens to look to their characters:—Let there be a general rule that every one shall enter into voluntary contracts at his own risk, and there will be less of this scandalous money-making, and the evils of which we were speaking will be greatly lessened in the State.
"One that is the next best has the advantage of forcing citizens to look to their own character. Let there be a general rule that everyone enters voluntary contracts at their own risk. That will cut down on scandalous money-making and greatly lessen the evils we have been discussing in the State."
Yes, they will be greatly lessened.
"Yes, they will be greatly reduced."
At present the governors, induced by the motives which I have named, treat their subjects badly; while they and their adherents, especially the young men of the governing class, are habituated to lead a life of luxury and idleness both of body and mind; they do nothing, and are incapable of resisting either pleasure or pain.
"Right now the governors, driven by the motives I mentioned, mistreat their people. They and their followers live lives of luxury and idleness. This is especially true of the young men of the ruling class. They do nothing and cannot stand up to pleasure or pain."
Very true.
"That's true."
They themselves care only for making money, and are as indifferent as the pauper to the cultivation of virtue.
"They only care about making money. They are as indifferent to cultivating virtue as a pauper."
Yes, quite as indifferent.
"Yes, just as indifferent."
Such is the state of affairs which prevails among them. And often rulers and their subjects may come in one another’s way, whether on a journey or on some other occasion of meeting, on a pilgrimage or a march, as fellow-soldiers or fellow-sailors; aye and they may observe the behaviour of each other in the very moment of danger—for where danger is, there is no fear that the poor will be despised by the rich—and very likely the wiry sunburnt poor man may be placed in battle at the side of a wealthy one who has never spoilt his complexion and has plenty of superfluous flesh—when he sees such an one puffing and at his wits’-end, how can he avoid drawing the conclusion that men like him are only rich because no one has the courage to despoil them? And when they meet in private will not people be saying to one another ‘Our warriors are not good for much’?
This is the situation among them. Rulers and subjects often run into each other. It can happen on a journey, a pilgrimage, or a march. They may be fellow soldiers or sailors. They even see how each other behaves in moments of danger. In danger, the poor are not despised by the rich. A lean, sunburned poor man may stand in battle next to a rich man. That rich man has never browned in the sun and has excess flesh. When the poor man sees the rich one panting and at his wit's end, he will probably draw a conclusion. He will think the rich are rich only because no one has dared to seize their possessions. And when they meet in private, won't people say to one another, "Our warriors aren't much good"?
Yes, he said, I am quite aware that this is their way of talking.
"Yes," he said. "I'm well aware that this is their way of talking."
And, as in a body which is diseased the addition of a touch from without may bring on illness, and sometimes even when there is no external provocation a commotion may arise within—in the same way wherever there is weakness in the State there is also likely to be illness, of which the occasion may be very slight, the one party introducing from without their oligarchical, the other their democratical allies, and then the State falls sick, and is at war with herself; and may be at times distracted, even when there is no external cause.
"Like a sick body, a small touch from outside can trigger illness. Sometimes no outside cause is needed. Unrest can start from within. In the same way, whenever a state is weak, it is likely to fall ill. The trigger can be very small. One side brings in oligarchic allies. The other side brings in democratic allies. Then the state falls sick and fights itself. It can be thrown into chaos even without any external cause."
Yes, surely.
"Yes, certainly."
And then democracy comes into being after the poor have conquered their opponents, slaughtering some and banishing some, while to the remainder they give an equal share of freedom and power; and this is the form of government in which the magistrates are commonly elected by lot.
"Then democracy is born after the poor defeat their opponents. They kill some and banish others. To the rest they give equal freedom and equal power. This is the form of government where magistrates are usually chosen by lot."
Yes, he said, that is the nature of democracy, whether the revolution has been effected by arms, or whether fear has caused the opposite party to withdraw.
"Yes," he said. "That is the nature of democracy. It doesn't matter if the revolution was carried out by force or if the opposing party withdrew in fear."
And now what is their manner of life, and what sort of a government have they? for as the government is, such will be the man.
"Now what is their way of life, and what kind of government do they have? The government shapes the kind of people they become."
Clearly, he said.
"Clearly," he said.
In the first place, are they not free; and is not the city full of freedom and frankness—a man may say and do what he likes?
"First, aren't they free? Isn't the city full of freedom and openness? Anyone can say or do whatever they like."
’Tis said so, he replied.
"That's what is said," he replied.
And where freedom is, the individual is clearly able to order for himself his own life as he pleases?
"And where there is freedom, an individual can clearly shape their own life as they please?"
Clearly.
"Clearly."
Then in this kind of State there will be the greatest variety of human natures?
"So in that kind of State there will be the greatest variety of types of people?"
There will.
"There will be."
This, then, seems likely to be the fairest of States, being like an embroidered robe which is spangled with every sort of flower. And just as women and children think a variety of colours to be of all things most charming, so there are many men to whom this State, which is spangled with the manners and characters of mankind, will appear to be the fairest of States.
"This, then, seems likely to be the most beautiful of states. It is like an embroidered robe covered with every kind of flower. Women and children find a variety of colors most charming. In the same way, many people will see this state as the most beautiful. It is filled with the many manners and characters of humankind."
Yes.
"Yes."
Yes, my good Sir, and there will be no better in which to look for a government.
"Yes, my good sir, and there will be no better place to look for a government."
Why?
"Why?"
Because of the liberty which reigns there—they have a complete assortment of constitutions; and he who has a mind to establish a State, as we have been doing, must go to a democracy as he would to a bazaar at which they sell them, and pick out the one that suits him; then, when he has made his choice, he may found his State.
"Because liberty rules there, you find every kind of constitution. If a man wants to establish a state, as we have been doing, he goes to a democracy like a market where they sell them. He picks the one that suits him. Then he can found his state."
He will be sure to have patterns enough.
"He will be sure to have plenty of patterns."
And there being no necessity, I said, for you to govern in this State, even if you have the capacity, or to be governed, unless you like, or go to war when the rest go to war, or to be at peace when others are at peace, unless you are so disposed—there being no necessity also, because some law forbids you to hold office or be a dicast, that you should not hold office or be a dicast, if you have a fancy—is not this a way of life which for the moment is supremely delightful?
I said, "If there's no need for you to govern this State, even if you can, then you don't have to. You don't have to be governed unless you want to. You don't have to go to war when everyone else does. You don't have to be at peace when others are at peace, unless you choose. Even if some law forbids you from holding office or being a dicast, you don't have to accept that. You can hold office or serve as a dicast if you feel like it. Isn't this kind of life supremely delightful for the moment?"
For the moment, yes.
"Yes, for now."
And is not their humanity to the condemned in some cases quite charming? Have you not observed how, in a democracy, many persons, although they have been sentenced to death or exile, just stay where they are and walk about the world—the gentleman parades like a hero, and nobody sees or cares?
"And isn't their pity for the condemned sometimes almost charming? Haven't you noticed how, in a democracy, many people, though sentenced to death or exile, just stay where they are and go about the world. The gentleman parades like a hero, and nobody notices or cares."
Yes, he replied, many and many a one.
"Yes," he replied, "many, many people."
See too, I said, the forgiving spirit of democracy, and the ‘don’t care’ about trifles, and the disregard which she shows of all the fine principles which we solemnly laid down at the foundation of the city—as when we said that, except in the case of some rarely gifted nature, there never will be a good man who has not from his childhood been used to play amid things of beauty and make of them a joy and a study—how grandly does she trample all these fine notions of ours under her feet, never giving a thought to the pursuits which make a statesman, and promoting to honour any one who professes to be the people’s friend.
"See also," I said, "the forgiving spirit of democracy. Notice her 'don't care' attitude toward trifles. See how she ignores all those fine principles we set when we founded the city. For example, we said this. Except in very rare cases, a truly good person cannot arise without a childhood among beautiful things. They must learn to take joy in those things and to study them. Yet she so proudly tramples those ideas underfoot. She never thinks about the pursuits that make a statesman. Instead she honors anyone who calls themselves the people's friend."
Yes, she is of a noble spirit.
"Yes, she has a noble spirit."
These and other kindred characteristics are proper to democracy, which is a charming form of government, full of variety and disorder, and dispensing a sort of equality to equals and unequals alike.
"These and other similar traits belong to democracy. It is a charming form of government. It is full of variety and disorder. It gives a kind of equality to both equals and unequals."
We know her well.
"We know her well."
Consider now, I said, what manner of man the individual is, or rather consider, as in the case of the State, how he comes into being.
"Consider now," I said, "what sort of man the individual is. Or rather, think about, as with the State, how he comes into being."
Very good, he said.
"Very good," he said.
Is not this the way—he is the son of the miserly and oligarchical father who has trained him in his own habits?
"Isn't it like this? He's the son of a miserly, oligarchic father who trained him to be like himself."
Exactly.
"Exactly."
And, like his father, he keeps under by force the pleasures which are of the spending and not of the getting sort, being those which are called unnecessary?
"And like his father, does he force down pleasures that come from spending, not from getting? Are those the pleasures people call unnecessary?"
Obviously.
"Of course."
Would you like, for the sake of clearness, to distinguish which are the necessary and which are the unnecessary pleasures?
"Would you like, for clarity, to distinguish which pleasures are necessary and which are unnecessary?"
I should.
"I ought to."
Are not necessary pleasures those of which we cannot get rid, and of which the satisfaction is a benefit to us? And they are rightly called so, because we are framed by nature to desire both what is beneficial and what is necessary, and cannot help it.
"Aren't necessary pleasures the ones we can't get rid of, and whose satisfaction benefits us? They are rightly called that because nature made us want both what is useful and what we need. We can't help it."
True.
"That's true."
We are not wrong therefore in calling them necessary?
"So we are not wrong to call them necessary?"
We are not.
"We're not."
And the desires of which a man may get rid, if he takes pains from his youth upwards—of which the presence, moreover, does no good, and in some cases the reverse of good—shall we not be right in saying that all these are unnecessary?
"Shouldn't we call unnecessary all the desires a person can get rid of by working on them from a young age? Their presence does no good, and sometimes they even do harm."
Yes, certainly.
"Yes, of course."
Suppose we select an example of either kind, in order that we may have a general notion of them?
"Shall we pick an example of each kind so we can get a general idea of them?"
Very good.
"Very good."
Will not the desire of eating, that is, of simple food and condiments, in so far as they are required for health and strength, be of the necessary class?
"Wouldn't the desire to eat be a necessary desire? I mean the desire for simple food and seasonings, as far as they are needed for health and strength."
That is what I should suppose.
"That's what I would suppose."
The pleasure of eating is necessary in two ways; it does us good and it is essential to the continuance of life?
"The pleasure of eating is necessary in two ways. It does us good, and it is essential for keeping life going?"
Yes.
"Yes."
But the condiments are only necessary in so far as they are good for health?
"But condiments are only necessary to the extent that they are good for our health?"
Certainly.
"Of course."
And the desire which goes beyond this, of more delicate food, or other luxuries, which might generally be got rid of, if controlled and trained in youth, and is hurtful to the body, and hurtful to the soul in the pursuit of wisdom and virtue, may be rightly called unnecessary?
"And the desire that goes beyond basic needs for finer food or other luxuries can usually be removed. It can be trained and controlled in youth. It harms the body and the soul when someone pursues wisdom and virtue. May we rightly call that desire unnecessary?"
Very true.
"That's very true."
May we not say that these desires spend, and that the others make money because they conduce to production?
"Can't we say that some desires cause spending, while others bring in money because they help production?"
Certainly.
"Of course."
And of the pleasures of love, and all other pleasures, the same holds good?
"And does the same hold for the pleasures of love and for all other pleasures?"
True.
"True."
And the drone of whom we spoke was he who was surfeited in pleasures and desires of this sort, and was the slave of the unnecessary desires, whereas he who was subject to the necessary only was miserly and oligarchical?
"And the drone we mentioned was someone who overindulged in those pleasures and desires? He was a slave to unnecessary wants. Was the person who only followed necessary needs then stingy and oligarchic?"
Very true.
"That's very true."
Again, let us see how the democratical man grows out of the oligarchical: the following, as I suspect, is commonly the process.
"Again, let's see how the democratic man grows out of the oligarchic. I suspect the following is the usual process."
What is the process?
"What's the process?"
When a young man who has been brought up as we were just now describing, in a vulgar and miserly way, has tasted drones’ honey and has come to associate with fierce and crafty natures who are able to provide for him all sorts of refinements and varieties of pleasure—then, as you may imagine, the change will begin of the oligarchical principle within him into the democratical?
"Imagine a young man raised as we just described, in a coarse, stingy way. He tastes the honey that idlers offer. He begins to keep company with fierce, cunning people. They can give him all kinds of luxuries and pleasures. As you can imagine, his oligarchic impulses will start turning into democratic ones?"
Inevitably.
"It is inevitable."
And as in the city like was helping like, and the change was effected by an alliance from without assisting one division of the citizens, so too the young man is changed by a class of desires coming from without to assist the desires within him, that which is akin and alike again helping that which is akin and alike?
"And just as in a city, like helps like. Change happens when an outside alliance supports one class of citizens. In the same way, a young man is changed by desires coming from outside. These outside desires assist the desires already inside him. The similar helps the similar again. Isn't that so?"
Certainly.
"Of course."
And if there be any ally which aids the oligarchical principle within him, whether the influence of a father or of kindred, advising or rebuking him, then there arises in his soul a faction and an opposite faction, and he goes to war with himself.
"And if an ally supports the oligarchical principle inside him, that could be a father's or a relative's influence. They might advise him or rebuke him. A faction and an opposing faction then arise in his soul. He goes to war with himself."
It must be so.
"It has to be so."
And there are times when the democratical principle gives way to the oligarchical, and some of his desires die, and others are banished; a spirit of reverence enters into the young man’s soul and order is restored.
"Sometimes the democratic spirit gives way to the oligarchic. Some of his desires die. Others are banished. A spirit of reverence enters the young man's soul. Order is restored."
Yes, he said, that sometimes happens.
"Yes," he said, "that sometimes happens."
And then, again, after the old desires have been driven out, fresh ones spring up, which are akin to them, and because he their father does not know how to educate them, wax fierce and numerous.
"And then, after the old desires have been driven out, fresh ones spring up that are like them. Because their father doesn't know how to teach them, they grow fierce and numerous."
Yes, he said, that is apt to be the way.
"Yes," he said, "that's often how it is."
They draw him to his old associates, and holding secret intercourse with them, breed and multiply in him.
"They pull him back to his old companions. When he meets them in secret, they grow and multiply within him."
Very true.
"Very true."
At length they seize upon the citadel of the young man’s soul, which they perceive to be void of all accomplishments and fair pursuits and true words, which make their abode in the minds of men who are dear to the gods, and are their best guardians and sentinels.
"They seize the citadel of the young man's soul. They do this because they see it empty of skill, noble pursuits, and honest words. Those qualities live in the minds of people the gods favor. They are the gods' best guardians and sentinels."
None better.
"No one is better."
False and boastful conceits and phrases mount upwards and take their place.
"False, boastful ideas and phrases rise up and take their place."
They are certain to do so.
"They're sure to do it."
And so the young man returns into the country of the lotus-eaters, and takes up his dwelling there in the face of all men; and if any help be sent by his friends to the oligarchical part of him, the aforesaid vain conceits shut the gate of the king’s fastness; and they will neither allow the embassy itself to enter, nor if private advisers offer the fatherly counsel of the aged will they listen to them or receive them. There is a battle and they gain the day, and then modesty, which they call silliness, is ignominiously thrust into exile by them, and temperance, which they nickname unmanliness, is trampled in the mire and cast forth; they persuade men that moderation and orderly expenditure are vulgarity and meanness, and so, by the help of a rabble of evil appetites, they drive them beyond the border.
"Then the young man returns to the land of the lotus-eaters and lives there openly. If friends send help to the oligarchical part of him, those vain fancies shut the gate of the king's fortress. They won't let the envoys in. They won't listen to private advisers offering an elder's counsel. A battle follows, and the fancies win. Modesty, which they call silliness, is shamefully driven into exile. Temperance, which they call unmanliness, is trampled in the mud and thrown out. They persuade people that moderation and careful spending are vulgar and mean. With a rabble of base desires, they push those virtues beyond the border."
Yes, with a will.
"Yes, willingly."
And when they have emptied and swept clean the soul of him who is now in their power and who is being initiated by them in great mysteries, the next thing is to bring back to their house insolence and anarchy and waste and impudence in bright array having garlands on their heads, and a great company with them, hymning their praises and calling them by sweet names; insolence they term breeding, and anarchy liberty, and waste magnificence, and impudence courage. And so the young man passes out of his original nature, which was trained in the school of necessity, into the freedom and libertinism of useless and unnecessary pleasures.
"First they empty and sweep clean the soul of the person now in their power. They initiate him into their great mysteries. Then they bring into the house arrogance, lawlessness, extravagance, and shamelessness. These figures wear bright clothes and garlands. A large crowd follows, singing their praises and calling them sweet names. They call arrogance 'breeding,' lawlessness 'liberty,' extravagance 'magnificence,' and shamelessness 'courage.' So the young man leaves his original nature. He was trained in the school of necessity. Now he moves into the freedom and debauchery of needless pleasures."
Yes, he said, the change in him is visible enough.
"Yes," he said, "the change in him is plain to see."
After this he lives on, spending his money and labour and time on unnecessary pleasures quite as much as on necessary ones; but if he be fortunate, and is not too much disordered in his wits, when years have elapsed, and the heyday of passion is over—supposing that he then re-admits into the city some part of the exiled virtues, and does not wholly give himself up to their successors—in that case he balances his pleasures and lives in a sort of equilibrium, putting the government of himself into the hands of the one which comes first and wins the turn; and when he has had enough of that, then into the hands of another; he despises none of them but encourages them all equally.
"After this, he goes on living. He spends his money, labor, and time on unnecessary pleasures as much as on necessary ones. If he is lucky and his mind is not too disturbed, then after years and when the height of passion fades, he may admit some of the exiled virtues back into the city. If he does not give himself completely to their replacements, he comes to balance his pleasures. He lives in a kind of equilibrium. He hands control of himself to whichever impulse arrives first and wins the turn. When he has had enough of that impulse, he hands control to another. He despises none of them. He treats them all with equal favor."
Very true, he said.
"That's true," he said.
Neither does he receive or let pass into the fortress any true word of advice; if any one says to him that some pleasures are the satisfactions of good and noble desires, and others of evil desires, and that he ought to use and honour some and chastise and master the others—whenever this is repeated to him he shakes his head and says that they are all alike, and that one is as good as another.
He does not admit or let any true advice into the fortress. If someone says that some pleasures satisfy good, noble desires and others satisfy bad desires, he will not accept it. If you tell him he should honor some pleasures and master or punish others, he still refuses. Each time you repeat it, he shakes his head and says, "They're all the same. One is as good as another."
Yes, he said; that is the way with him.
"Yes," he said. "That's just the way he is."
Yes, I said, he lives from day to day indulging the appetite of the hour; and sometimes he is lapped in drink and strains of the flute; then he becomes a water-drinker, and tries to get thin; then he takes a turn at gymnastics; sometimes idling and neglecting everything, then once more living the life of a philosopher; often he is busy with politics, and starts to his feet and says and does whatever comes into his head; and, if he is emulous of any one who is a warrior, off he is in that direction, or of men of business, once more in that. His life has neither law nor order; and this distracted existence he terms joy and bliss and freedom; and so he goes on.
"Yes," I said, "he lives from day to day, indulging whatever appetite rules the hour. Sometimes he gets drunk and lives for the sound of the flute. Then he becomes a water-drinker and tries to slim down. Then he takes up gymnastics. Sometimes he idles and neglects everything. Then again he lives like a philosopher. Often he's busy with politics. He jumps to his feet and says and does whatever pops into his head. If he admires a warrior, he heads in that direction. If he admires men of business, he goes that way instead. His life has no law or order. He calls this distracted existence joy, bliss, and freedom. And so he goes on."
Yes, he replied, he is all liberty and equality.
"Yes," he replied, "he is all liberty and equality."
Yes, I said; his life is motley and manifold and an epitome of the lives of many;—he answers to the State which we described as fair and spangled. And many a man and many a woman will take him for their pattern, and many a constitution and many an example of manners is contained in him.
"Yes," I said. "His life is varied and many-sided. It sums up the lives of many people. He fits the State we described as beautiful and sparkling. Many men and women will take him as their model. He includes many different characters and many examples of behavior."
Just so.
"Exactly."
Let him then be set over against democracy; he may truly be called the democratic man.
"Then place him opposite democracy. You can rightly call him the democratic man."
Let that be his place, he said.
"Let that be his place," he said.
Last of all comes the most beautiful of all, man and State alike, tyranny and the tyrant; these we have now to consider.
"Last of all comes the most beautiful of all. This is true of both the man and the State: tyranny and the tyrant. These we must now consider."
Quite true, he said.
"That's true," he said.
Say then, my friend, In what manner does tyranny arise?—that it has a democratic origin is evident.
"Tell me then, my friend. How does tyranny arise? It's clear it comes from democracy."
Clearly.
"Clearly."
And does not tyranny spring from democracy in the same manner as democracy from oligarchy—I mean, after a sort?
"Doesn't tyranny spring from democracy the same way democracy springs from oligarchy? I mean, in a way."
How?
"How?"
The good which oligarchy proposed to itself and the means by which it was maintained was excess of wealth—am I not right?
"The good the oligarchy aimed for, and the way it maintained itself, was excess wealth. Am I not right?"
Yes.
"Yes."
And the insatiable desire of wealth and the neglect of all other things for the sake of money-getting was also the ruin of oligarchy?
"And didn't the insatiable desire for wealth, and neglect of everything else for money, ruin oligarchy?"
True.
"True."
And democracy has her own good, of which the insatiable desire brings her to dissolution?
"And democracy has its own good. Does an insatiable desire for it bring about its collapse?"
What good?
"What good is it?"
Freedom, I replied; which, as they tell you in a democracy, is the glory of the State—and that therefore in a democracy alone will the freeman of nature deign to dwell.
"Freedom," I replied. "As they say in a democracy, freedom is the glory of the state. So a person who is free by nature will only choose to live in a democracy."
Yes; the saying is in every body’s mouth.
"Yes, the saying is on everyone's lips."
I was going to observe, that the insatiable desire of this and the neglect of other things introduces the change in democracy, which occasions a demand for tyranny.
"I was going to point out that an insatiable desire for this leads to changes in democracy. Neglect of other things plays a part too. Those changes create a demand for tyranny."
How so?
"How do you mean?"
When a democracy which is thirsting for freedom has evil cup-bearers presiding over the feast, and has drunk too deeply of the strong wine of freedom, then, unless her rulers are very amenable and give a plentiful draught, she calls them to account and punishes them, and says that they are cursed oligarchs.
"When a democracy is thirsty for freedom and has bad cup-bearers at the feast, it drinks too deeply. It tastes too much of freedom's strong wine. If its rulers are not very compliant and do not give freely, the people hold them to account. They punish them. They call them 'cursed oligarchs.'"
Yes, he replied, a very common occurrence.
"Yes," he replied. "That's very common."
Yes, I said; and loyal citizens are insultingly termed by her slaves who hug their chains and men of naught; she would have subjects who are like rulers, and rulers who are like subjects: these are men after her own heart, whom she praises and honours both in private and public. Now, in such a State, can liberty have any limit?
"Yes," I said. "In that state, loyal citizens are insulted and called worthless by her slaves, who cling to their chains. She wants subjects who act like rulers and rulers who act like subjects. Those are the people she admires and honors, both privately and publicly. In such a state, can liberty have any limit?"
Certainly not.
"No, certainly not."
By degrees the anarchy finds a way into private houses, and ends by getting among the animals and infecting them.
"Gradually, anarchy finds its way into private homes. It eventually reaches the animals and infects them."
How do you mean?
"What do you mean?"
I mean that the father grows accustomed to descend to the level of his sons and to fear them, and the son is on a level with his father, he having no respect or reverence for either of his parents; and this is his freedom, and the metic is equal with the citizen and the citizen with the metic, and the stranger is quite as good as either.
"I mean that the father gets used to lowering himself to his sons and even fears them. The son stands as an equal to his father. He has no respect or reverence for either parent. That is what he calls freedom. The metic is equal to the citizen. The citizen is equal to the metic. The stranger is just as good as either."
Yes, he said, that is the way.
"Yes," he said. "That is the way."
And these are not the only evils, I said—there are several lesser ones: In such a state of society the master fears and flatters his scholars, and the scholars despise their masters and tutors; young and old are all alike; and the young man is on a level with the old, and is ready to compete with him in word or deed; and old men condescend to the young and are full of pleasantry and gaiety; they are loth to be thought morose and authoritative, and therefore they adopt the manners of the young.
"And these are not the only evils," I said. "There are some lesser ones. In such a society the master fears and flatters his students. The students, in turn, despise their masters and tutors. Young and old become alike. A young man stands on the same level as an older man. He will compete with him in words or actions. Older men lower themselves to the young and behave playfully and cheerfully. They do not want to seem gloomy or bossy, so they adopt the young people's manners."
Quite true, he said.
"That's true," he said.
The last extreme of popular liberty is when the slave bought with money, whether male or female, is just as free as his or her purchaser; nor must I forget to tell of the liberty and equality of the two sexes in relation to each other.
"The last extreme of popular liberty is this. A slave bought with money, man or woman, is as free as the person who bought them. I must not forget to mention the liberty and equality of the two sexes in relation to each other."
Why not, as Aeschylus says, utter the word which rises to our lips?
"Why not, as Aeschylus says, speak the first word that comes to our lips?"
That is what I am doing, I replied; and I must add that no one who does not know would believe, how much greater is the liberty which the animals who are under the dominion of man have in a democracy than in any other State: for truly, the she-dogs, as the proverb says, are as good as their she-mistresses, and the horses and asses have a way of marching along with all the rights and dignities of freemen; and they will run at any body who comes in their way if he does not leave the road clear for them: and all things are just ready to burst with liberty.
"That's what I'm doing," I replied. I should add this. No one who doesn't know would believe it. Animals under human control enjoy much more freedom in a democracy than in any other state. Female dogs, as the proverb says, are as good as their mistresses. Horses and donkeys march along with all the rights and dignity of free citizens. They'll charge anyone who doesn't clear the road for them. Everything seems ready to burst with liberty.
When I take a country walk, he said, I often experience what you describe. You and I have dreamed the same thing.
"When I go for a walk in the country," he said, "I often feel what you describe. You and I have had the same dream."
And above all, I said, and as the result of all, see how sensitive the citizens become; they chafe impatiently at the least touch of authority, and at length, as you know, they cease to care even for the laws, written or unwritten; they will have no one over them.
"And above all," I said, "see how sensitive the citizens become as a result. They bristle at the slightest touch of authority. In time, as you know, they stop caring about the laws, written or unwritten. They will have no one over them."
Yes, he said, I know it too well.
"Yes," he said. "I know it all too well."
Such, my friend, I said, is the fair and glorious beginning out of which springs tyranny.
"My friend," I said. "This fair and glorious beginning is where tyranny springs from."
Glorious indeed, he said. But what is the next step?
"Glorious indeed," he said. "But what is the next step?"
The ruin of oligarchy is the ruin of democracy; the same disease magnified and intensified by liberty overmasters democracy—the truth being that the excessive increase of anything often causes a reaction in the opposite direction; and this is the case not only in the seasons and in vegetable and animal life, but above all in forms of government.
"The ruin of oligarchy is the ruin of democracy. The same sickness, enlarged and driven by liberty, takes over democracy. Too much of anything often produces a reaction in the opposite direction. This happens in the seasons, and in plant and animal life. It is even more true in forms of government."
True.
"True."
The excess of liberty, whether in States or individuals, seems only to pass into excess of slavery.
"Too much freedom, whether in a state or in an individual, seems to turn into complete slavery."
Yes, the natural order.
"Yes, the natural order."
And so tyranny naturally arises out of democracy, and the most aggravated form of tyranny and slavery out of the most extreme form of liberty?
"So tyranny naturally arises from democracy. Does the worst kind of tyranny and slavery then come from the most extreme form of liberty?"
As we might expect.
"As we would expect."
That, however, was not, as I believe, your question—you rather desired to know what is that disorder which is generated alike in oligarchy and democracy, and is the ruin of both?
"I don't think that was your question. You wanted to know what disorder arises in both oligarchy and democracy and destroys them both?"
Just so, he replied.
"Just so," he said.
Well, I said, I meant to refer to the class of idle spendthrifts, of whom the more courageous are the leaders and the more timid the followers, the same whom we were comparing to drones, some stingless, and others having stings.
"Well," I said, "I meant the class of idle spendthrifts. The braver ones lead. The more timid ones follow. We compared them to drones, some without stings and others with stings."
A very just comparison.
"A very apt comparison."
These two classes are the plagues of every city in which they are generated, being what phlegm and bile are to the body. And the good physician and lawgiver of the State ought, like the wise bee-master, to keep them at a distance and prevent, if possible, their ever coming in; and if they have anyhow found a way in, then he should have them and their cells cut out as speedily as possible.
"These two groups are the plagues of every city where they arise. They are to the city what phlegm and bile are to the body. A good physician and lawgiver should, like a wise beekeeper, keep them at a distance. He should, if possible, stop them from getting in. If they do get in, he should have them and their cells cut out as quickly as possible."
Yes, by all means, he said.
"Yes, absolutely," he said.
Then, in order that we may see clearly what we are doing, let us imagine democracy to be divided, as indeed it is, into three classes; for in the first place freedom creates rather more drones in the democratic than there were in the oligarchical State.
"Then, to see clearly what we are doing, let's imagine democracy divided into three classes, as it really is. First, freedom produces more drones in a democracy than there were in the oligarchic state."
That is true.
"That's true."
And in the democracy they are certainly more intensified.
"And in a democracy they become more intense."
How so?
"What do you mean?"
Because in the oligarchical State they are disqualified and driven from office, and therefore they cannot train or gather strength; whereas in a democracy they are almost the entire ruling power, and while the keener sort speak and act, the rest keep buzzing about the bema and do not suffer a word to be said on the other side; hence in democracies almost everything is managed by the drones.
"Because in an oligarchy they are barred and driven out of office. They cannot train or build strength. In a democracy they make up almost the whole ruling power. The sharper sort speak and act. The rest swarm around the bema and won't allow a word from the other side. So in democracies almost everything is run by the drones."
Very true, he said.
"That's very true," he said.
Then there is another class which is always being severed from the mass.
"Then there is another class that is always being cut off from the rest."
What is that?
"What's that?"
They are the orderly class, which in a nation of traders is sure to be the richest.
"They are the orderly class. In a nation of traders, they will be the richest."
Naturally so.
"Of course."
They are the most squeezable persons and yield the largest amount of honey to the drones.
They are the easiest people to squeeze. They give the drones the most honey.
Why, he said, there is little to be squeezed out of people who have little.
"Why," he said, "there's not much you can get from people who have little."
And this is called the wealthy class, and the drones feed upon them.
"This is called the wealthy class. The drones live off them."
That is pretty much the case, he said.
"That's pretty much it," he said.
The people are a third class, consisting of those who work with their own hands; they are not politicians, and have not much to live upon. This, when assembled, is the largest and most powerful class in a democracy.
"The people make up the third class. This class includes those who work with their own hands. They do not take part in politics and have little to live on. When assembled, they are the largest and most powerful class in a democracy."
True, he said; but then the multitude is seldom willing to congregate unless they get a little honey.
"True," he said, "but people rarely want to gather unless there's a little honey."
And do they not share? I said. Do not their leaders deprive the rich of their estates and distribute them among the people; at the same time taking care to reserve the larger part for themselves?
"Don't they share?" I said. "Don't their leaders seize the rich people's estates and redistribute them among the people? Meanwhile, don't those leaders keep most of it for themselves?"
Why, yes, he said, to that extent the people do share.
"Yes," he said. "To that extent, the people do share."
And the persons whose property is taken from them are compelled to defend themselves before the people as they best can?
"And those whose property is taken are forced to defend themselves in public, as best they can?"
What else can they do?
"What else can they do?"
And then, although they may have no desire of change, the others charge them with plotting against the people and being friends of oligarchy?
"And then, even if they don't want any change, the others accuse them of plotting against the people. They claim they favor oligarchy?"
True.
"True."
And the end is that when they see the people, not of their own accord, but through ignorance, and because they are deceived by informers, seeking to do them wrong, then at last they are forced to become oligarchs in reality; they do not wish to be, but the sting of the drones torments them and breeds revolution in them.
"And in the end they see the people acting wrongly. This happens not by choice but through ignorance and because informers have deceived them. The people try to do them harm. At last they are forced to become real oligarchs. They do not want this. The drones' sting torments them and stirs up revolution inside them."
That is exactly the truth.
"That's exactly true."
Then come impeachments and judgments and trials of one another.
"Then come accusations, judgments, and trials against one another."
True.
"True."
The people have always some champion whom they set over them and nurse into greatness.
"The people always have a champion. They put him in charge and help him rise to greatness."
Yes, that is their way.
"Yes, that's how they behave."
This and no other is the root from which a tyrant springs; when he first appears above ground he is a protector.
"This and no other is the root from which a tyrant springs. When he first appears above ground, he is a protector."
Yes, that is quite clear.
"Yes, that's clear."
How then does a protector begin to change into a tyrant? Clearly when he does what the man is said to do in the tale of the Arcadian temple of Lycaean Zeus.
"How does a protector begin to change into a tyrant? Clearly, when he does what the man in the story about the Arcadian temple of Lycaean Zeus did."
What tale?
"What story?"
The tale is that he who has tasted the entrails of a single human victim minced up with the entrails of other victims is destined to become a wolf. Did you never hear it?
"They say that anyone who eats the chopped guts of one person mixed with those of others will become a wolf. Haven't you heard that?"
Oh, yes.
"Oh yes."
And the protector of the people is like him; having a mob entirely at his disposal, he is not restrained from shedding the blood of kinsmen; by the favourite method of false accusation he brings them into court and murders them, making the life of man to disappear, and with unholy tongue and lips tasting the blood of his fellow citizens; some he kills and others he banishes, at the same time hinting at the abolition of debts and partition of lands: and after this, what will be his destiny? Must he not either perish at the hands of his enemies, or from being a man become a wolf—that is, a tyrant?
"The people's protector behaves the same way. With a mob at his command, he is not restrained from killing his relatives. By false accusations he drags them into court and destroys them. He wipes out lives and speaks with a foul, bloodthirsty tongue, as if tasting the blood of his fellow citizens. Some he kills, others he banishes, all while promising to cancel debts and divide land. After that, what will happen to him? Will he be killed by his enemies? Or will he lose his humanity and become a wolf, that is, a tyrant?"
Inevitably.
"That's inevitable."
This, I said, is he who begins to make a party against the rich?
"Is this the man who starts a party against the rich?"
The same.
"The same."
After a while he is driven out, but comes back, in spite of his enemies, a tyrant full grown.
"After a while he is driven out. He returns despite his enemies, now a full-grown tyrant."
That is clear.
"That's clear."
And if they are unable to expel him, or to get him condemned to death by a public accusation, they conspire to assassinate him.
"If they can't drive him out, or can't get him publicly condemned to death, they plot to kill him."
Yes, he said, that is their usual way.
"Yes," he said. "That's how they usually behave."
Then comes the famous request for a body-guard, which is the device of all those who have got thus far in their tyrannical career—‘Let not the people’s friend,’ as they say, ‘be lost to them.’
Then comes the famous request for a bodyguard. This is the tactic of anyone who has reached this point in their tyrannical career. They say, "Let not the people's friend be lost to them."
Exactly.
"Exactly."
The people readily assent; all their fears are for him—they have none for themselves.
"The people agree readily. All their fears are for him. They have none for themselves."
Very true.
"Very true."
And when a man who is wealthy and is also accused of being an enemy of the people sees this, then, my friend, as the oracle said to Croesus,
"And when a rich man sees he is accused of being an enemy of the people. Then, my friend, remember what the oracle said to Croesus."
‘By pebbly Hermus’ shore he flees and rests not, and is not ashamed to be a coward.’
"By the pebbly shore of the Hermus he runs away and does not rest. He is not ashamed to be a coward."
And quite right too, said he, for if he were, he would never be ashamed again.
"And that's right," he said. "If he were, he would never be ashamed again."
But if he is caught he dies.
"But if he is caught, he will die."
Of course.
"Of course."
And he, the protector of whom we spoke, is to be seen, not ‘larding the plain’ with his bulk, but himself the overthrower of many, standing up in the chariot of State with the reins in his hand, no longer protector, but tyrant absolute.
"And he, the protector we spoke of, is seen not fattening the plain with his bulk. He is himself the overthrower of many. He stands in the chariot of State, the reins in his hand. No longer a protector, he is an absolute tyrant."
No doubt, he said.
"No doubt," he said.
And now let us consider the happiness of the man, and also of the State in which a creature like him is generated.
"Now let's consider the happiness of the man. We should also consider the happiness of the State in which a person like him is born."
Yes, he said, let us consider that.
"Yes," he said. "Let's consider that."
At first, in the early days of his power, he is full of smiles, and he salutes every one whom he meets;—he to be called a tyrant, who is making promises in public and also in private! liberating debtors, and distributing land to the people and his followers, and wanting to be so kind and good to every one!
"At first, in the early days of his rule, he is all smiles. Everyone he meets gets a greeting. Who would call him a tyrant? He makes promises in public and in private. He frees debtors, distributes land to the people and his followers, and wants to be kind to everyone!"
Of course, he said.
"Of course," he said.
But when he has disposed of foreign enemies by conquest or treaty, and there is nothing to fear from them, then he is always stirring up some war or other, in order that the people may require a leader.
"But once he has dealt with foreign enemies by conquest or treaty. When they no longer pose a threat, he keeps stirring up wars. He does this so the people will demand a leader."
To be sure.
"Of course."
Has he not also another object, which is that they may be impoverished by payment of taxes, and thus compelled to devote themselves to their daily wants and therefore less likely to conspire against him?
"Doesn't he also have another aim? He wants them to be made poor by paying taxes. That will force them to focus on meeting their daily needs. They will be less likely to conspire against him."
Clearly.
"Clearly."
And if any of them are suspected by him of having notions of freedom, and of resistance to his authority, he will have a good pretext for destroying them by placing them at the mercy of the enemy; and for all these reasons the tyrant must be always getting up a war.
"If he suspects anyone of wanting freedom or resisting his authority, he has a ready excuse to destroy them by placing them at the mercy of the enemy. So the tyrant must always be starting wars."
He must.
"He must."
Now he begins to grow unpopular.
"Now he's starting to lose popularity."
A necessary result.
"A necessary result."
Then some of those who joined in setting him up, and who are in power, speak their minds to him and to one another, and the more courageous of them cast in his teeth what is being done.
Then some who helped set him up and who hold power speak their minds to him and one another. The bolder among them throw what has been done in his face.
Yes, that may be expected.
"Yes, that's to be expected."
And the tyrant, if he means to rule, must get rid of them; he cannot stop while he has a friend or an enemy who is good for anything.
"And the tyrant, if he wants to rule, must get rid of them. He won't stop until he has no friend or enemy who could be useful."
He cannot.
"He can't."
And therefore he must look about him and see who is valiant, who is high-minded, who is wise, who is wealthy; happy man, he is the enemy of them all, and must seek occasion against them whether he will or no, until he has made a purgation of the State.
"So he must look around and see who is brave, proud, wise, or rich. Happy man. He is the enemy of them all. He must look for opportunities to oppose them, whether he wants to or not, until he has purged the State."
Yes, he said, and a rare purgation.
"Yes," he said, "and a rare cleansing."
Yes, I said, not the sort of purgation which the physicians make of the body; for they take away the worse and leave the better part, but he does the reverse.
"Yes," I said. "Not the kind of purging doctors do to the body. They remove the worse and leave the better. He does the opposite."
If he is to rule, I suppose that he cannot help himself.
"If he's going to rule, I suppose he can't help it."
What a blessed alternative, I said:—to be compelled to dwell only with the many bad, and to be by them hated, or not to live at all!
"What a blessed choice," I said. "To be forced to live only among bad people and be hated by them, or not live at all!"
Yes, that is the alternative.
"Yes, that's the alternative."
And the more detestable his actions are to the citizens the more satellites and the greater devotion in them will he require?
"And the more his actions disgust the citizens, the more followers and devotion will he need?"
Certainly.
"Certainly."
And who are the devoted band, and where will he procure them?
"Who are these devoted followers? Where will he find them?"
They will flock to him, he said, of their own accord, if he pays them.
"They will flock to him on their own if he pays them."
By the dog! I said, here are more drones, of every sort and from every land.
"Good heavens!" I said. "Here are more drones, of every kind from every land."
Yes, he said, there are.
"Yes," he said, "there are."
But will he not desire to get them on the spot?
"But won't he want to get them on the spot?"
How do you mean?
"What do you mean?"
He will rob the citizens of their slaves; he will then set them free and enrol them in his body-guard.
"He will take the citizens' slaves. Then he will free them and enlist them in his bodyguard."
To be sure, he said; and he will be able to trust them best of all.
"Of course," he said. "He will be able to trust them above all."
What a blessed creature, I said, must this tyrant be; he has put to death the others and has these for his trusted friends.
"What a blessed creature," I said. "This tyrant must be. He has killed the others and made these his trusted friends."
Yes, he said; they are quite of his sort.
"Yes," he said. "They are exactly his type."
Yes, I said, and these are the new citizens whom he has called into existence, who admire him and are his companions, while the good hate and avoid him.
"Yes," I said. "These are the new citizens he has created. They admire him and are his companions. The good hate him and avoid him."
Of course.
"Of course."
Verily, then, tragedy is a wise thing and Euripides a great tragedian.
"Truly, then, tragedy is a wise thing. Euripides is a great tragedian."
Why so?
"Why is that?"
Why, because he is the author of the pregnant saying,
"Why? Because he coined that pithy saying."
‘Tyrants are wise by living with the wise;’
"Tyrants gain wisdom by living among the wise."
and he clearly meant to say that they are the wise whom the tyrant makes his companions.
"He clearly meant to say that the tyrant chooses the wise as his companions."
Yes, he said, and he also praises tyranny as godlike; and many other things of the same kind are said by him and by the other poets.
"Yes," he said. "He even praises tyranny as godlike. Many similar things are said by him and the other poets."
And therefore, I said, the tragic poets being wise men will forgive us and any others who live after our manner if we do not receive them into our State, because they are the eulogists of tyranny.
"So I said, the tragic poets are wise people. They will forgive us and others who live like us if we refuse to admit them into our State. They praise tyranny."
Yes, he said, those who have the wit will doubtless forgive us.
"Yes," he said. "Those who are clever will no doubt forgive us."
But they will continue to go to other cities and attract mobs, and hire voices fair and loud and persuasive, and draw the cities over to tyrannies and democracies.
"But they will keep going to other cities and attract mobs. They will hire speakers who are smooth, loud, and persuasive. They will lead those cities into tyrannies and democracies."
Very true.
"Very true."
Moreover, they are paid for this and receive honour—the greatest honour, as might be expected, from tyrants, and the next greatest from democracies; but the higher they ascend our constitution hill, the more their reputation fails, and seems unable from shortness of breath to proceed further.
"They are paid for this and given honor. Tyrants give them the greatest honor, as you would expect. Democracies give the next greatest. But the higher they climb our constitution hill, the more their reputation falters. It seems they run out of breath and cannot go any further."
True.
"True."
But we are wandering from the subject: Let us therefore return and enquire how the tyrant will maintain that fair and numerous and various and ever-changing army of his.
"We're getting off topic. Let's return and ask how the tyrant will maintain that fine, numerous, varied, and constantly changing army of his."
If, he said, there are sacred treasures in the city, he will confiscate and spend them; and in so far as the fortunes of attainted persons may suffice, he will be able to diminish the taxes which he would otherwise have to impose upon the people.
"If there are sacred treasures in the city," he said, "he will confiscate and spend them. If the assets of those convicted are enough, he can lower the taxes he would otherwise impose on the people."
And when these fail?
"And what if these fail?"
Why, clearly, he said, then he and his boon companions, whether male or female, will be maintained out of his father’s estate.
"Clearly," he said. "He and his companions, whether men or women, will be supported by his father's estate."
You mean to say that the people, from whom he has derived his being, will maintain him and his companions?
"You mean the people he comes from will support him and his companions?"
Yes, he said; they cannot help themselves.
"Yes," he said. "They can't help themselves."
But what if the people fly into a passion, and aver that a grown-up son ought not to be supported by his father, but that the father should be supported by the son? The father did not bring him into being, or settle him in life, in order that when his son became a man he should himself be the servant of his own servants and should support him and his rabble of slaves and companions; but that his son should protect him, and that by his help he might be emancipated from the government of the rich and aristocratic, as they are termed. And so he bids him and his companions depart, just as any other father might drive out of the house a riotous son and his undesirable associates.
"But what if the people fly into a passion and say a grown son should not be supported by his father, but the father should be supported by the son? The father did not bring the son into being or set him up in life so that, once the son became a man, the father would be the servant of his own servants. He did not expect to support the son and his rabble of slaves and companions. He expected the son to protect him. He expected the son to help free him from the rule of the rich and the aristocrats, as they are called. So he tells the son and his companions to go. Just as any father might drive out a riotous son and his bad company."
By heaven, he said, then the parent will discover what a monster he has been fostering in his bosom; and, when he wants to drive him out, he will find that he is weak and his son strong.
"By heaven," he said, "the parent will discover what a monster he has been raising within himself. When he tries to drive his son out, he will find himself weak and his son strong."
Why, you do not mean to say that the tyrant will use violence? What! beat his father if he opposes him?
"You don't mean to say the tyrant will use violence? What, beat his own father if he opposes him?"
Yes, he will, having first disarmed him.
"Yes. He will once he first disarms him."
Then he is a parricide, and a cruel guardian of an aged parent; and this is real tyranny, about which there can be no longer a mistake: as the saying is, the people who would escape the smoke which is the slavery of freemen, has fallen into the fire which is the tyranny of slaves. Thus liberty, getting out of all order and reason, passes into the harshest and bitterest form of slavery.
"Then he is a parricide and a cruel guardian to an elderly parent. This is true tyranny. There can be no mistake about it. As the saying goes, people who try to escape the smoke, the slavery of free men, fall into the fire. That fire is the tyranny of slaves. So liberty, when it loses order and reason, becomes the harshest and bitterest form of slavery."
True, he said.
"That's true," he said.
Very well; and may we not rightly say that we have sufficiently discussed the nature of tyranny, and the manner of the transition from democracy to tyranny?
"Very well. Can't we say we've now sufficiently discussed the nature of tyranny and how democracy turns into it?"
Yes, quite enough, he said.
"Yes, that's quite enough," he said.