บทที่ บทที่ 5 · I was going to enumerate the four forms of vice or decline in

states, when Polemarchus—he was sitting a little farther from me than

Adeimantus—taking him by the coat and leaning towards him, said

something in an undertone, of which I only caught the words, ‘Shall we

let him off?’ ‘Certainly not,’ said Adeimantus, raising his voice.

Whom, I said, are you not going to let off? ‘You,’ he said. Why?

‘Because we think that you are not dealing fairly with us in omitting

women and children, of whom you have slily disposed under the general

formula that friends have all things in common.’ And was I not right?

‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘but there are many sorts of communism or community,

and we want to know which of them is right. The company, as you have

just heard, are resolved to have a further explanation.’ Thrasymachus

said, ‘Do you think that we have come hither to dig for gold, or to

hear you discourse?’ Yes, I said; but the discourse should be of a

reasonable length. Glaucon added, ‘Yes, Socrates, and there is reason

in spending the whole of life in such discussions; but pray, without

more ado, tell us how this community is to be carried out, and how the

interval between birth and education is to be filled up.’ Well, I said,

the subject has several difficulties—What is possible? is the first

question. What is desirable? is the second. ‘Fear not,’ he replied,

‘for you are speaking among friends.’ That, I replied, is a sorry

consolation; I shall destroy my friends as well as myself. Not that I

mind a little innocent laughter; but he who kills the truth is a

murderer. ‘Then,’ said Glaucon, laughing, ‘in case you should murder us

we will acquit you beforehand, and you shall be held free from the

guilt of deceiving us.’

Socrates proceeds:—The guardians of our state are to be watch-dogs, as

we have already said. Now dogs are not divided into hes and shes—we do

not take the masculine gender out to hunt and leave the females at home

to look after their puppies. They have the same employments—the only

difference between them is that the one sex is stronger and the other

weaker. But if women are to have the same employments as men, they must

have the same education—they must be taught music and gymnastics, and

the art of war. I know that a great joke will be made of their riding

on horseback and carrying weapons; the sight of the naked old wrinkled

women showing their agility in the palaestra will certainly not be a

vision of beauty, and may be expected to become a famous jest. But we

must not mind the wits; there was a time when they might have laughed

at our present gymnastics. All is habit: people have at last found out

that the exposure is better than the concealment of the person, and now

they laugh no more. Evil only should be the subject of ridicule.

The first question is, whether women are able either wholly or

partially to share in the employments of men. And here we may be

charged with inconsistency in making the proposal at all. For we

started originally with the division of labour; and the diversity of

employments was based on the difference of natures. But is there no

difference between men and women? Nay, are they not wholly different?

THERE was the difficulty, Glaucon, which made me unwilling to speak of

family relations. However, when a man is out of his depth, whether in a

pool or in an ocean, he can only swim for his life; and we must try to

find a way of escape, if we can.

The argument is, that different natures have different uses, and the

natures of men and women are said to differ. But this is only a verbal

opposition. We do not consider that the difference may be purely

nominal and accidental; for example, a bald man and a hairy man are

opposed in a single point of view, but you cannot infer that because a

bald man is a cobbler a hairy man ought not to be a cobbler. Now why is

such an inference erroneous? Simply because the opposition between them

is partial only, like the difference between a male physician and a

female physician, not running through the whole nature, like the

difference between a physician and a carpenter. And if the difference

of the sexes is only that the one beget and the other bear children,

this does not prove that they ought to have distinct educations.

Admitting that women differ from men in capacity, do not men equally

differ from one another? Has not nature scattered all the qualities

which our citizens require indifferently up and down among the two

sexes? and even in their peculiar pursuits, are not women often, though

in some cases superior to men, ridiculously enough surpassed by them?

Women are the same in kind as men, and have the same aptitude or want

of aptitude for medicine or gymnastic or war, but in a less degree. One

woman will be a good guardian, another not; and the good must be chosen

to be the colleagues of our guardians. If however their natures are the

same, the inference is that their education must also be the same;

there is no longer anything unnatural or impossible in a woman learning

music and gymnastic. And the education which we give them will be the

very best, far superior to that of cobblers, and will train up the very

best women, and nothing can be more advantageous to the State than

this. Therefore let them strip, clothed in their chastity, and share in

the toils of war and in the defence of their country; he who laughs at

them is a fool for his pains.

The first wave is past, and the argument is compelled to admit that men

and women have common duties and pursuits. A second and greater wave is

rolling in—community of wives and children; is this either expedient or

possible? The expediency I do not doubt; I am not so sure of the

possibility. ‘Nay, I think that a considerable doubt will be

entertained on both points.’ I meant to have escaped the trouble of

proving the first, but as you have detected the little stratagem I must

even submit. Only allow me to feed my fancy like the solitary in his

walks, with a dream of what might be, and then I will return to the

question of what can be.

In the first place our rulers will enforce the laws and make new ones

where they are wanted, and their allies or ministers will obey. You, as

legislator, have already selected the men; and now you shall select the

women. After the selection has been made, they will dwell in common

houses and have their meals in common, and will be brought together by

a necessity more certain than that of mathematics. But they cannot be

allowed to live in licentiousness; that is an unholy thing, which the

rulers are determined to prevent. For the avoidance of this, holy

marriage festivals will be instituted, and their holiness will be in

proportion to their usefulness. And here, Glaucon, I should like to ask

(as I know that you are a breeder of birds and animals), Do you not

take the greatest care in the mating? ‘Certainly.’ And there is no

reason to suppose that less care is required in the marriage of human

beings. But then our rulers must be skilful physicians of the State,

for they will often need a strong dose of falsehood in order to bring

about desirable unions between their subjects. The good must be paired

with the good, and the bad with the bad, and the offspring of the one

must be reared, and of the other destroyed; in this way the flock will

be preserved in prime condition. Hymeneal festivals will be celebrated

at times fixed with an eye to population, and the brides and

bridegrooms will meet at them; and by an ingenious system of lots the

rulers will contrive that the brave and the fair come together, and

that those of inferior breed are paired with inferiors—the latter will

ascribe to chance what is really the invention of the rulers. And when

children are born, the offspring of the brave and fair will be carried

to an enclosure in a certain part of the city, and there attended by

suitable nurses; the rest will be hurried away to places unknown. The

mothers will be brought to the fold and will suckle the children; care

however must be taken that none of them recognise their own offspring;

and if necessary other nurses may also be hired. The trouble of

watching and getting up at night will be transferred to attendants.

‘Then the wives of our guardians will have a fine easy time when they

are having children.’ And quite right too, I said, that they should.

The parents ought to be in the prime of life, which for a man may be

reckoned at thirty years—from twenty-five, when he has ‘passed the

point at which the speed of life is greatest,’ to fifty-five; and at

twenty years for a woman—from twenty to forty. Any one above or below

those ages who partakes in the hymeneals shall be guilty of impiety;

also every one who forms a marriage connexion at other times without

the consent of the rulers. This latter regulation applies to those who

are within the specified ages, after which they may range at will,

provided they avoid the prohibited degrees of parents and children, or

of brothers and sisters, which last, however, are not absolutely

prohibited, if a dispensation be procured. ‘But how shall we know the

degrees of affinity, when all things are common?’ The answer is, that

brothers and sisters are all such as are born seven or nine months

after the espousals, and their parents those who are then espoused, and

every one will have many children and every child many parents.

Socrates proceeds: I have now to prove that this scheme is advantageous

and also consistent with our entire polity. The greatest good of a

State is unity; the greatest evil, discord and distraction. And there

will be unity where there are no private pleasures or pains or

interests—where if one member suffers all the members suffer, if one

citizen is touched all are quickly sensitive; and the least hurt to the

little finger of the State runs through the whole body and vibrates to

the soul. For the true State, like an individual, is injured as a whole

when any part is affected. Every State has subjects and rulers, who in

a democracy are called rulers, and in other States masters: but in our

State they are called saviours and allies; and the subjects who in

other States are termed slaves, are by us termed nurturers and

paymasters, and those who are termed comrades and colleagues in other

places, are by us called fathers and brothers. And whereas in other

States members of the same government regard one of their colleagues as

a friend and another as an enemy, in our State no man is a stranger to

another; for every citizen is connected with every other by ties of

blood, and these names and this way of speaking will have a

corresponding reality—brother, father, sister, mother, repeated from

infancy in the ears of children, will not be mere words. Then again the

citizens will have all things in common, in having common property they

will have common pleasures and pains.

Can there be strife and contention among those who are of one mind; or

lawsuits about property when men have nothing but their bodies which

they call their own; or suits about violence when every one is bound to

defend himself? The permission to strike when insulted will be an

‘antidote’ to the knife and will prevent disturbances in the State. But

no younger man will strike an elder; reverence will prevent him from

laying hands on his kindred, and he will fear that the rest of the

family may retaliate. Moreover, our citizens will be rid of the lesser

evils of life; there will be no flattery of the rich, no sordid

household cares, no borrowing and not paying. Compared with the

citizens of other States, ours will be Olympic victors, and crowned

with blessings greater still—they and their children having a better

maintenance during life, and after death an honourable burial. Nor has

the happiness of the individual been sacrificed to the happiness of the

State; our Olympic victor has not been turned into a cobbler, but he

has a happiness beyond that of any cobbler. At the same time, if any

conceited youth begins to dream of appropriating the State to himself,

he must be reminded that ‘half is better than the whole.’ ‘I should

certainly advise him to stay where he is when he has the promise of

such a brave life.’

But is such a community possible?—as among the animals, so also among

men; and if possible, in what way possible? About war there is no

difficulty; the principle of communism is adapted to military service.

Parents will take their children to look on at a battle, just as

potters’ boys are trained to the business by looking on at the wheel.

And to the parents themselves, as to other animals, the sight of their

young ones will prove a great incentive to bravery. Young warriors must

learn, but they must not run into danger, although a certain degree of

risk is worth incurring when the benefit is great. The young creatures

should be placed under the care of experienced veterans, and they

should have wings—that is to say, swift and tractable steeds on which

they may fly away and escape. One of the first things to be done is to

teach a youth to ride.

Cowards and deserters shall be degraded to the class of husbandmen;

gentlemen who allow themselves to be taken prisoners, may be presented

to the enemy. But what shall be done to the hero? First of all he shall

be crowned by all the youths in the army; secondly, he shall receive

the right hand of fellowship; and thirdly, do you think that there is

any harm in his being kissed? We have already determined that he shall

have more wives than others, in order that he may have as many children

as possible. And at a feast he shall have more to eat; we have the

authority of Homer for honouring brave men with ‘long chines,’ which is

an appropriate compliment, because meat is a very strengthening thing.

Fill the bowl then, and give the best seats and meats to the brave—may

they do them good! And he who dies in battle will be at once declared

to be of the golden race, and will, as we believe, become one of

Hesiod’s guardian angels. He shall be worshipped after death in the

manner prescribed by the oracle; and not only he, but all other

benefactors of the State who die in any other way, shall be admitted to

the same honours.

The next question is, How shall we treat our enemies? Shall Hellenes be

enslaved? No; for there is too great a risk of the whole race passing

under the yoke of the barbarians. Or shall the dead be despoiled?

Certainly not; for that sort of thing is an excuse for skulking, and

has been the ruin of many an army. There is meanness and feminine

malice in making an enemy of the dead body, when the soul which was the

owner has fled—like a dog who cannot reach his assailants, and quarrels

with the stones which are thrown at him instead. Again, the arms of

Hellenes should not be offered up in the temples of the Gods; they are

a pollution, for they are taken from brethren. And on similar grounds

there should be a limit to the devastation of Hellenic territory—the

houses should not be burnt, nor more than the annual produce carried

off. For war is of two kinds, civil and foreign; the first of which is

properly termed ‘discord,’ and only the second ‘war;’ and war between

Hellenes is in reality civil war—a quarrel in a family, which is ever

to be regarded as unpatriotic and unnatural, and ought to be prosecuted

with a view to reconciliation in a true phil-Hellenic spirit, as of

those who would chasten but not utterly enslave. The war is not against

a whole nation who are a friendly multitude of men, women, and

children, but only against a few guilty persons; when they are punished

peace will be restored. That is the way in which Hellenes should war

against one another—and against barbarians, as they war against one

another now.

‘But, my dear Socrates, you are forgetting the main question: Is such a

State possible? I grant all and more than you say about the blessedness

of being one family—fathers, brothers, mothers, daughters, going out to

war together; but I want to ascertain the possibility of this ideal

State.’ You are too unmerciful. The first wave and the second wave I

have hardly escaped, and now you will certainly drown me with the

third. When you see the towering crest of the wave, I expect you to

take pity. ‘Not a whit.’

Well, then, we were led to form our ideal polity in the search after

justice, and the just man answered to the just State. Is this ideal at

all the worse for being impracticable? Would the picture of a perfectly

beautiful man be any the worse because no such man ever lived? Can any

reality come up to the idea? Nature will not allow words to be fully

realized; but if I am to try and realize the ideal of the State in a

measure, I think that an approach may be made to the perfection of

which I dream by one or two, I do not say slight, but possible changes

in the present constitution of States. I would reduce them to a single

one—the great wave, as I call it. Until, then, kings are philosophers,

or philosophers are kings, cities will never cease from ill: no, nor

the human race; nor will our ideal polity ever come into being. I know

that this is a hard saying, which few will be able to receive.

‘Socrates, all the world will take off his coat and rush upon you with

sticks and stones, and therefore I would advise you to prepare an

answer.’ You got me into the scrape, I said. ‘And I was right,’ he

replied; ‘however, I will stand by you as a sort of do-nothing,

well-meaning ally.’ Having the help of such a champion, I will do my

best to maintain my position. And first, I must explain of whom I speak

and what sort of natures these are who are to be philosophers and

rulers. As you are a man of pleasure, you will not have forgotten how

indiscriminate lovers are in their attachments; they love all, and turn

blemishes into beauties. The snub-nosed youth is said to have a winning

grace; the beak of another has a royal look; the featureless are

faultless; the dark are manly, the fair angels; the sickly have a new

term of endearment invented expressly for them, which is ‘honey-pale.’

Lovers of wine and lovers of ambition also desire the objects of their

affection in every form. Now here comes the point:—The philosopher too

is a lover of knowledge in every form; he has an insatiable curiosity.

‘But will curiosity make a philosopher? Are the lovers of sights and

sounds, who let out their ears to every chorus at the Dionysiac

festivals, to be called philosophers?’ They are not true philosophers,

but only an imitation. ‘Then how are we to describe the true?’

You would acknowledge the existence of abstract ideas, such as justice,

beauty, good, evil, which are severally one, yet in their various

combinations appear to be many. Those who recognize these realities are

philosophers; whereas the other class hear sounds and see colours, and

understand their use in the arts, but cannot attain to the true or

waking vision of absolute justice or beauty or truth; they have not the

light of knowledge, but of opinion, and what they see is a dream only.

Perhaps he of whom we say the last will be angry with us; can we pacify

him without revealing the disorder of his mind? Suppose we say that, if

he has knowledge we rejoice to hear it, but knowledge must be of

something which is, as ignorance is of something which is not; and

there is a third thing, which both is and is not, and is matter of

opinion only. Opinion and knowledge, then, having distinct objects,

must also be distinct faculties. And by faculties I mean powers unseen

and distinguishable only by the difference in their objects, as opinion

and knowledge differ, since the one is liable to err, but the other is

unerring and is the mightiest of all our faculties. If being is the

object of knowledge, and not-being of ignorance, and these are the

extremes, opinion must lie between them, and may be called darker than

the one and brighter than the other. This intermediate or contingent

matter is and is not at the same time, and partakes both of existence

and of non-existence. Now I would ask my good friend, who denies

abstract beauty and justice, and affirms a many beautiful and a many

just, whether everything he sees is not in some point of view

different—the beautiful ugly, the pious impious, the just unjust? Is

not the double also the half, and are not heavy and light relative

terms which pass into one another? Everything is and is not, as in the

old riddle—‘A man and not a man shot and did not shoot a bird and not a

bird with a stone and not a stone.’ The mind cannot be fixed on either

alternative; and these ambiguous, intermediate, erring, half-lighted

objects, which have a disorderly movement in the region between being

and not-being, are the proper matter of opinion, as the immutable

objects are the proper matter of knowledge. And he who grovels in the

world of sense, and has only this uncertain perception of things, is

not a philosopher, but a lover of opinion only...

The fifth book is the new beginning of the Republic, in which the

community of property and of family are first maintained, and the

transition is made to the kingdom of philosophers. For both of these

Plato, after his manner, has been preparing in some chance words of

BOOK 6.