Chương Chương 18 · Many things pleased me in the order of our State, but there was（9）

Heaven forbid! I said; I would only ask you to be consistent; or, if

you change, change openly and let there be no deception. For I must

remark, Thrasymachus, if you will recall what was previously said, that

although you began by defining the true physician in an exact sense,

you did not observe a like exactness when speaking of the shepherd; you

thought that the shepherd as a shepherd tends the sheep not with a view

to their own good, but like a mere diner or banquetter with a view to

the pleasures of the table; or, again, as a trader for sale in the

market, and not as a shepherd. Yet surely the art of the shepherd is

concerned only with the good of his subjects; he has only to provide

the best for them, since the perfection of the art is already ensured

whenever all the requirements of it are satisfied. And that was what I

was saying just now about the ruler. I conceived that the art of the

ruler, considered as ruler, whether in a state or in private life,

could only regard the good of his flock or subjects; whereas you seem

to think that the rulers in states, that is to say, the true rulers,

like being in authority.

Think! Nay, I am sure of it.

Then why in the case of lesser offices do men never take them willingly

without payment, unless under the idea that they govern for the

advantage not of themselves but of others? Let me ask you a question:

Are not the several arts different, by reason of their each having a

separate function? And, my dear illustrious friend, do say what you

think, that we may make a little progress.

Yes, that is the difference, he replied.

And each art gives us a particular good and not merely a general

one—medicine, for example, gives us health; navigation, safety at sea,

and so on?

Yes, he said.

And the art of payment has the special function of giving pay: but we

do not confuse this with other arts, any more than the art of the pilot

is to be confused with the art of medicine, because the health of the

pilot may be improved by a sea voyage. You would not be inclined to

say, would you, that navigation is the art of medicine, at least if we

are to adopt your exact use of language?

Certainly not.

Or because a man is in good health when he receives pay you would not

say that the art of payment is medicine?

I should not.

Nor would you say that medicine is the art of receiving pay because a

man takes fees when he is engaged in healing?

Certainly not.

And we have admitted, I said, that the good of each art is specially

confined to the art?

Yes.

Then, if there be any good which all artists have in common, that is to

be attributed to something of which they all have the common use?

True, he replied.

And when the artist is benefited by receiving pay the advantage is

gained by an additional use of the art of pay, which is not the art

professed by him?

He gave a reluctant assent to this.

Then the pay is not derived by the several artists from their

respective arts. But the truth is, that while the art of medicine gives

health, and the art of the builder builds a house, another art attends

them which is the art of pay. The various arts may be doing their own

business and benefiting that over which they preside, but would the

artist receive any benefit from his art unless he were paid as well?

I suppose not.

But does he therefore confer no benefit when he works for nothing?

Certainly, he confers a benefit.

Then now, Thrasymachus, there is no longer any doubt that neither arts

nor governments provide for their own interests; but, as we were before

saying, they rule and provide for the interests of their subjects who

are the weaker and not the stronger—to their good they attend and not

to the good of the superior. And this is the reason, my dear

Thrasymachus, why, as I was just now saying, no one is willing to

govern; because no one likes to take in hand the reformation of evils

which are not his concern without remuneration. For, in the execution

of his work, and in giving his orders to another, the true artist does

not regard his own interest, but always that of his subjects; and

therefore in order that rulers may be willing to rule, they must be

paid in one of three modes of payment, money, or honour, or a penalty

for refusing.

What do you mean, Socrates? said Glaucon. The first two modes of

payment are intelligible enough, but what the penalty is I do not

understand, or how a penalty can be a payment.

You mean that you do not understand the nature of this payment which to

the best men is the great inducement to rule? Of course you know that

ambition and avarice are held to be, as indeed they are, a disgrace?

Very true.

And for this reason, I said, money and honour have no attraction for

them; good men do not wish to be openly demanding payment for governing

and so to get the name of hirelings, nor by secretly helping themselves

out of the public revenues to get the name of thieves. And not being

ambitious they do not care about honour. Wherefore necessity must be

laid upon them, and they must be induced to serve from the fear of

punishment. And this, as I imagine, is the reason why the forwardness

to take office, instead of waiting to be compelled, has been deemed

dishonourable. Now the worst part of the punishment is that he who

refuses to rule is liable to be ruled by one who is worse than himself.

And the fear of this, as I conceive, induces the good to take office,

not because they would, but because they cannot help—not under the idea

that they are going to have any benefit or enjoyment themselves, but as

a necessity, and because they are not able to commit the task of ruling

to any one who is better than themselves, or indeed as good. For there

is reason to think that if a city were composed entirely of good men,

then to avoid office would be as much an object of contention as to

obtain office is at present; then we should have plain proof that the

true ruler is not meant by nature to regard his own interest, but that

of his subjects; and every one who knew this would choose rather to

receive a benefit from another than to have the trouble of conferring

one. So far am I from agreeing with Thrasymachus that justice is the

interest of the stronger. This latter question need not be further

discussed at present; but when Thrasymachus says that the life of the

unjust is more advantageous than that of the just, his new statement

appears to me to be of a far more serious character. Which of us has

spoken truly? And which sort of life, Glaucon, do you prefer?

I for my part deem the life of the just to be the more advantageous, he

answered.

Did you hear all the advantages of the unjust which Thrasymachus was

rehearsing?

Yes, I heard him, he replied, but he has not convinced me.

Then shall we try to find some way of convincing him, if we can, that

he is saying what is not true?

Most certainly, he replied.

If, I said, he makes a set speech and we make another recounting all

the advantages of being just, and he answers and we rejoin, there must

be a numbering and measuring of the goods which are claimed on either

side, and in the end we shall want judges to decide; but if we proceed

in our enquiry as we lately did, by making admissions to one another,

we shall unite the offices of judge and advocate in our own persons.

Very good, he said.

And which method do I understand you to prefer? I said.

That which you propose.

Well, then, Thrasymachus, I said, suppose you begin at the beginning

and answer me. You say that perfect injustice is more gainful than

perfect justice?

Yes, that is what I say, and I have given you my reasons.

And what is your view about them? Would you call one of them virtue and

the other vice?

Certainly.

I suppose that you would call justice virtue and injustice vice?

What a charming notion! So likely too, seeing that I affirm injustice

to be profitable and justice not.

What else then would you say?

The opposite, he replied.

And would you call justice vice?

No, I would rather say sublime simplicity.

Then would you call injustice malignity?

No; I would rather say discretion.

And do the unjust appear to you to be wise and good?

Yes, he said; at any rate those of them who are able to be perfectly

unjust, and who have the power of subduing states and nations; but

perhaps you imagine me to be talking of cutpurses. Even this profession

if undetected has advantages, though they are not to be compared with

those of which I was just now speaking.

I do not think that I misapprehend your meaning, Thrasymachus, I

replied; but still I cannot hear without amazement that you class

injustice with wisdom and virtue, and justice with the opposite.

Certainly I do so class them.

Now, I said, you are on more substantial and almost unanswerable

ground; for if the injustice which you were maintaining to be

profitable had been admitted by you as by others to be vice and

deformity, an answer might have been given to you on received

principles; but now I perceive that you will call injustice honourable

and strong, and to the unjust you will attribute all the qualities

which were attributed by us before to the just, seeing that you do not

hesitate to rank injustice with wisdom and virtue.

You have guessed most infallibly, he replied.

Then I certainly ought not to shrink from going through with the

argument so long as I have reason to think that you, Thrasymachus, are

speaking your real mind; for I do believe that you are now in earnest

and are not amusing yourself at our expense.

I may be in earnest or not, but what is that to you?—to refute the

argument is your business.

Very true, I said; that is what I have to do: But will you be so good

as answer yet one more question? Does the just man try to gain any

advantage over the just?

Far otherwise; if he did he would not be the simple amusing creature

which he is.

And would he try to go beyond just action?

He would not.

And how would he regard the attempt to gain an advantage over the

unjust; would that be considered by him as just or unjust?

He would think it just, and would try to gain the advantage; but he

would not be able.

Whether he would or would not be able, I said, is not to the point. My

question is only whether the just man, while refusing to have more than

another just man, would wish and claim to have more than the unjust?

Yes, he would.

And what of the unjust—does he claim to have more than the just man and

to do more than is just?

Of course, he said, for he claims to have more than all men.

And the unjust man will strive and struggle to obtain more than the

unjust man or action, in order that he may have more than all?

True.

We may put the matter thus, I said—the just does not desire more than

his like but more than his unlike, whereas the unjust desires more than

both his like and his unlike?

Nothing, he said, can be better than that statement.

And the unjust is good and wise, and the just is neither?

Good again, he said.

And is not the unjust like the wise and good and the just unlike them?

Of course, he said, he who is of a certain nature, is like those who

are of a certain nature; he who is not, not.

Each of them, I said, is such as his like is?

Certainly, he replied.

Very good, Thrasymachus, I said; and now to take the case of the arts:

you would admit that one man is a musician and another not a musician?

Yes.

And which is wise and which is foolish?

Clearly the musician is wise, and he who is not a musician is foolish.

And he is good in as far as he is wise, and bad in as far as he is

foolish?

Yes.

And you would say the same sort of thing of the physician?

Yes.

And do you think, my excellent friend, that a musician when he adjusts

the lyre would desire or claim to exceed or go beyond a musician in the

tightening and loosening the strings?

I do not think that he would.

But he would claim to exceed the non-musician?

Of course.

And what would you say of the physician? In prescribing meats and

drinks would he wish to go beyond another physician or beyond the

practice of medicine?

He would not.

But he would wish to go beyond the non-physician?

Yes.

And about knowledge and ignorance in general; see whether you think

that any man who has knowledge ever would wish to have the choice of

saying or doing more than another man who has knowledge. Would he not

rather say or do the same as his like in the same case?

That, I suppose, can hardly be denied.

And what of the ignorant? would he not desire to have more than either

the knowing or the ignorant?

I dare say.

And the knowing is wise?

Yes.

And the wise is good?

True.

Then the wise and good will not desire to gain more than his like, but

more than his unlike and opposite?

I suppose so.

Whereas the bad and ignorant will desire to gain more than both?

Yes.

But did we not say, Thrasymachus, that the unjust goes beyond both his

like and unlike? Were not these your words?

They were.

And you also said that the just will not go beyond his like but his

unlike?

Yes.

Then the just is like the wise and good, and the unjust like the evil

and ignorant?

That is the inference.

And each of them is such as his like is?

That was admitted.

Then the just has turned out to be wise and good and the unjust evil

and ignorant.

Thrasymachus made all these admissions, not fluently, as I repeat them,

but with extreme reluctance; it was a hot summer’s day, and the

perspiration poured from him in torrents; and then I saw what I had

never seen before, Thrasymachus blushing. As we were now agreed that

justice was virtue and wisdom, and injustice vice and ignorance, I

proceeded to another point:

Well, I said, Thrasymachus, that matter is now settled; but were we not

also saying that injustice had strength; do you remember?

Yes, I remember, he said, but do not suppose that I approve of what you

are saying or have no answer; if however I were to answer, you would be

quite certain to accuse me of haranguing; therefore either permit me to

have my say out, or if you would rather ask, do so, and I will answer

‘Very good,’ as they say to story-telling old women, and will nod ‘Yes’

and ‘No.’

Certainly not, I said, if contrary to your real opinion.

Yes, he said, I will, to please you, since you will not let me speak.

What else would you have?

Nothing in the world, I said; and if you are so disposed I will ask and

you shall answer.

Proceed.

Then I will repeat the question which I asked before, in order that our

examination of the relative nature of justice and injustice may be

carried on regularly. A statement was made that injustice is stronger

and more powerful than justice, but now justice, having been identified

with wisdom and virtue, is easily shown to be stronger than injustice,

if injustice is ignorance; this can no longer be questioned by any one.

But I want to view the matter, Thrasymachus, in a different way: You

would not deny that a state may be unjust and may be unjustly

attempting to enslave other states, or may have already enslaved them,

and may be holding many of them in subjection?

True, he replied; and I will add that the best and most perfectly

unjust state will be most likely to do so.

I know, I said, that such was your position; but what I would further

consider is, whether this power which is possessed by the superior

state can exist or be exercised without justice or only with justice.

If you are right in your view, and justice is wisdom, then only with

justice; but if I am right, then without justice.

I am delighted, Thrasymachus, to see you not only nodding assent and

dissent, but making answers which are quite excellent.

That is out of civility to you, he replied.

You are very kind, I said; and would you have the goodness also to

inform me, whether you think that a state, or an army, or a band of

robbers and thieves, or any other gang of evil-doers could act at all

if they injured one another?

No indeed, he said, they could not.

But if they abstained from injuring one another, then they might act

together better?

Yes.

And this is because injustice creates divisions and hatreds and

fighting, and justice imparts harmony and friendship; is not that true,

Thrasymachus?

I agree, he said, because I do not wish to quarrel with you.

How good of you, I said; but I should like to know also whether

injustice, having this tendency to arouse hatred, wherever existing,

among slaves or among freemen, will not make them hate one another and

set them at variance and render them incapable of common action?

Certainly.

And even if injustice be found in two only, will they not quarrel and

fight, and become enemies to one another and to the just?

They will.

And suppose injustice abiding in a single person, would your wisdom say

that she loses or that she retains her natural power?

Let us assume that she retains her power.

Yet is not the power which injustice exercises of such a nature that

wherever she takes up her abode, whether in a city, in an army, in a

family, or in any other body, that body is, to begin with, rendered

incapable of united action by reason of sedition and distraction; and

does it not become its own enemy and at variance with all that opposes

it, and with the just? Is not this the case?

Yes, certainly.

And is not injustice equally fatal when existing in a single person; in

the first place rendering him incapable of action because he is not at

unity with himself, and in the second place making him an enemy to

himself and the just? Is not that true, Thrasymachus?

Yes.

And O my friend, I said, surely the gods are just?

Granted that they are.

But if so, the unjust will be the enemy of the gods, and the just will

be their friend?

Feast away in triumph, and take your fill of the argument; I will not

oppose you, lest I should displease the company.

Well then, proceed with your answers, and let me have the remainder of

my repast. For we have already shown that the just are clearly wiser

and better and abler than the unjust, and that the unjust are incapable

of common action; nay more, that to speak as we did of men who are evil

acting at any time vigorously together, is not strictly true, for if

they had been perfectly evil, they would have laid hands upon one

another; but it is evident that there must have been some remnant of

justice in them, which enabled them to combine; if there had not been

they would have injured one another as well as their victims; they were

but half-villains in their enterprises; for had they been whole

villains, and utterly unjust, they would have been utterly incapable of

action. That, as I believe, is the truth of the matter, and not what

you said at first. But whether the just have a better and happier life

than the unjust is a further question which we also proposed to

consider. I think that they have, and for the reasons which I have

given; but still I should like to examine further, for no light matter

is at stake, nothing less than the rule of human life.

Proceed.

I will proceed by asking a question: Would you not say that a horse has

some end?

I should.

And the end or use of a horse or of anything would be that which could

not be accomplished, or not so well accomplished, by any other thing?

I do not understand, he said.

Let me explain: Can you see, except with the eye?

Certainly not.

Or hear, except with the ear?

No.

These then may be truly said to be the ends of these organs?

They may.

But you can cut off a vine-branch with a dagger or with a chisel, and

in many other ways?

Of course.

And yet not so well as with a pruning-hook made for the purpose?

True.

May we not say that this is the end of a pruning-hook?

We may.

Then now I think you will have no difficulty in understanding my

meaning when I asked the question whether the end of anything would be

that which could not be accomplished, or not so well accomplished, by

any other thing?

I understand your meaning, he said, and assent.

And that to which an end is appointed has also an excellence? Need I

ask again whether the eye has an end?

It has.

And has not the eye an excellence?

Yes.

And the ear has an end and an excellence also?

True.

And the same is true of all other things; they have each of them an end

and a special excellence?

That is so.

Well, and can the eyes fulfil their end if they are wanting in their

own proper excellence and have a defect instead?

How can they, he said, if they are blind and cannot see?

You mean to say, if they have lost their proper excellence, which is

sight; but I have not arrived at that point yet. I would rather ask the

question more generally, and only enquire whether the things which

fulfil their ends fulfil them by their own proper excellence, and fail

of fulfilling them by their own defect?

Certainly, he replied.

I might say the same of the ears; when deprived of their own proper

excellence they cannot fulfil their end?

True.

And the same observation will apply to all other things?

I agree.

Well; and has not the soul an end which nothing else can fulfil? for

example, to superintend and command and deliberate and the like. Are

not these functions proper to the soul, and can they rightly be

assigned to any other?

To no other.

And is not life to be reckoned among the ends of the soul?

Assuredly, he said.

And has not the soul an excellence also?

Yes.

And can she or can she not fulfil her own ends when deprived of that

excellence?

She cannot.

Then an evil soul must necessarily be an evil ruler and superintendent,

and the good soul a good ruler?

Yes, necessarily.

And we have admitted that justice is the excellence of the soul, and

injustice the defect of the soul?

That has been admitted.

Then the just soul and the just man will live well, and the unjust man

will live ill?

That is what your argument proves.

And he who lives well is blessed and happy, and he who lives ill the

reverse of happy?

Certainly.

Then the just is happy, and the unjust miserable?

So be it.

But happiness and not misery is profitable.

Of course.

Then, my blessed Thrasymachus, injustice can never be more profitable

than justice.

Let this, Socrates, he said, be your entertainment at the Bendidea.

For which I am indebted to you, I said, now that you have grown gentle

towards me and have left off scolding. Nevertheless, I have not been

well entertained; but that was my own fault and not yours. As an

epicure snatches a taste of every dish which is successively brought to

table, he not having allowed himself time to enjoy the one before, so

have I gone from one subject to another without having discovered what

I sought at first, the nature of justice. I left that enquiry and

turned away to consider whether justice is virtue and wisdom or evil

and folly; and when there arose a further question about the

comparative advantages of justice and injustice, I could not refrain

from passing on to that. And the result of the whole discussion has

been that I know nothing at all. For I know not what justice is, and

therefore I am not likely to know whether it is or is not a virtue, nor

can I say whether the just man is happy or unhappy.

BOOK II.

With these words I was thinking that I had made an end of the

discussion; but the end, in truth, proved to be only a beginning. For

Glaucon, who is always the most pugnacious of men, was dissatisfied at

Thrasymachus’ retirement; he wanted to have the battle out. So he said

to me: Socrates, do you wish really to persuade us, or only to seem to

have persuaded us, that to be just is always better than to be unjust?

I should wish really to persuade you, I replied, if I could.

Then you certainly have not succeeded. Let me ask you now:—How would

you arrange goods—are there not some which we welcome for their own

sakes, and independently of their consequences, as, for example,

harmless pleasures and enjoyments, which delight us at the time,

although nothing follows from them?

I agree in thinking that there is such a class, I replied.

Is there not also a second class of goods, such as knowledge, sight,

health, which are desirable not only in themselves, but also for their

results?

Certainly, I said.

And would you not recognize a third class, such as gymnastic, and the

care of the sick, and the physician’s art; also the various ways of

money-making—these do us good but we regard them as disagreeable; and

no one would choose them for their own sakes, but only for the sake of

some reward or result which flows from them?

There is, I said, this third class also. But why do you ask?

Because I want to know in which of the three classes you would place

justice?

In the highest class, I replied,—among those goods which he who would

be happy desires both for their own sake and for the sake of their

results.

Then the many are of another mind; they think that justice is to be

reckoned in the troublesome class, among goods which are to be pursued

for the sake of rewards and of reputation, but in themselves are

disagreeable and rather to be avoided.

I know, I said, that this is their manner of thinking, and that this

was the thesis which Thrasymachus was maintaining just now, when he

censured justice and praised injustice. But I am too stupid to be

convinced by him.

I wish, he said, that you would hear me as well as him, and then I

shall see whether you and I agree. For Thrasymachus seems to me, like a

snake, to have been charmed by your voice sooner than he ought to have

been; but to my mind the nature of justice and injustice have not yet

been made clear. Setting aside their rewards and results, I want to

know what they are in themselves, and how they inwardly work in the

soul. If you, please, then, I will revive the argument of Thrasymachus.

And first I will speak of the nature and origin of justice according to

the common view of them. Secondly, I will show that all men who

practise justice do so against their will, of necessity, but not as a

good. And thirdly, I will argue that there is reason in this view, for

the life of the unjust is after all better far than the life of the

just—if what they say is true, Socrates, since I myself am not of their

opinion. But still I acknowledge that I am perplexed when I hear the

voices of Thrasymachus and myriads of others dinning in my ears; and,

on the other hand, I have never yet heard the superiority of justice to

injustice maintained by any one in a satisfactory way. I want to hear

justice praised in respect of itself; then I shall be satisfied, and

you are the person from whom I think that I am most likely to hear

this; and therefore I will praise the unjust life to the utmost of my

power, and my manner of speaking will indicate the manner in which I

desire to hear you too praising justice and censuring injustice. Will

you say whether you approve of my proposal?

Indeed I do; nor can I imagine any theme about which a man of sense

would oftener wish to converse.

I am delighted, he replied, to hear you say so, and shall begin by

speaking, as I proposed, of the nature and origin of justice.

They say that to do injustice is, by nature, good; to suffer injustice,

evil; but that the evil is greater than the good. And so when men have

both done and suffered injustice and have had experience of both, not

being able to avoid the one and obtain the other, they think that they

had better agree among themselves to have neither; hence there arise

laws and mutual covenants; and that which is ordained by law is termed

by them lawful and just. This they affirm to be the origin and nature

of justice;—it is a mean or compromise, between the best of all, which

is to do injustice and not be punished, and the worst of all, which is

to suffer injustice without the power of retaliation; and justice,

being at a middle point between the two, is tolerated not as a good,

but as the lesser evil, and honoured by reason of the inability of men

to do injustice. For no man who is worthy to be called a man would ever

submit to such an agreement if he were able to resist; he would be mad

if he did. Such is the received account, Socrates, of the nature and

origin of justice.

Now that those who practise justice do so involuntarily and because

they have not the power to be unjust will best appear if we imagine

something of this kind: having given both to the just and the unjust

power to do what they will, let us watch and see whither desire will

lead them; then we shall discover in the very act the just and unjust

man to be proceeding along the same road, following their interest,

which all natures deem to be their good, and are only diverted into the

path of justice by the force of law. The liberty which we are supposing

may be most completely given to them in the form of such a power as is

said to have been possessed by Gyges, the ancestor of Croesus the

Lydian. According to the tradition, Gyges was a shepherd in the service

of the king of Lydia; there was a great storm, and an earthquake made

an opening in the earth at the place where he was feeding his flock.

Amazed at the sight, he descended into the opening, where, among other

marvels, he beheld a hollow brazen horse, having doors, at which he

stooping and looking in saw a dead body of stature, as appeared to him,

more than human, and having nothing on but a gold ring; this he took

from the finger of the dead and reascended. Now the shepherds met

together, according to custom, that they might send their monthly

report about the flocks to the king; into their assembly he came having

the ring on his finger, and as he was sitting among them he chanced to

turn the collet of the ring inside his hand, when instantly he became

invisible to the rest of the company and they began to speak of him as

if he were no longer present. He was astonished at this, and again

touching the ring he turned the collet outwards and reappeared; he made

several trials of the ring, and always with the same result—when he

turned the collet inwards he became invisible, when outwards he

reappeared. Whereupon he contrived to be chosen one of the messengers

who were sent to the court; whereas soon as he arrived he seduced the

queen, and with her help conspired against the king and slew him, and

took the kingdom. Suppose now that there were two such magic rings, and

the just put on one of them and the unjust the other; no man can be

imagined to be of such an iron nature that he would stand fast in

justice. No man would keep his hands off what was not his own when he

could safely take what he liked out of the market, or go into houses

and lie with any one at his pleasure, or kill or release from prison

whom he would, and in all respects be like a God among men. Then the

actions of the just would be as the actions of the unjust; they would

both come at last to the same point. And this we may truly affirm to be

a great proof that a man is just, not willingly or because he thinks

that justice is any good to him individually, but of necessity, for

wherever any one thinks that he can safely be unjust, there he is

unjust. For all men believe in their hearts that injustice is far more

profitable to the individual than justice, and he who argues as I have

been supposing, will say that they are right. If you could imagine any

one obtaining this power of becoming invisible, and never doing any

wrong or touching what was another’s, he would be thought by the

lookers-on to be a most wretched idiot, although they would praise him

to one another’s faces, and keep up appearances with one another from a

fear that they too might suffer injustice. Enough of this.