The Republic
He made an attempt to contest this proposition also, but finally
acquiesced.
Then, I continued, no physician, in so far as he is a physician,
considers his own good in what he prescribes, but the good of his
patient; for the true physician is also a ruler having the human body
as a subject, and is not a mere money-maker; that has been admitted?
Yes.
And the pilot likewise, in the strict sense of the term, is a ruler of
sailors and not a mere sailor?
That has been admitted.
And such a pilot and ruler will provide and prescribe for the interest
of the sailor who is under him, and not for his own or the ruler’s
interest?
He gave a reluctant ‘Yes.’
Then, I said, Thrasymachus, there is no one in any rule who, in so far
as he is a ruler, considers or enjoins what is for his own interest,
but always what is for the interest of his subject or suitable to his
art; to that he looks, and that alone he considers in everything which
he says and does.
When we had got to this point in the argument, and every one saw that
the definition of justice had been completely upset, Thrasymachus,
instead of replying to me, said: Tell me, Socrates, have you got a
nurse?
Why do you ask such a question, I said, when you ought rather to be
answering?
Because she leaves you to snivel, and never wipes your nose: she has
not even taught you to know the shepherd from the sheep.
What makes you say that? I replied.
Because you fancy that the shepherd or neatherd fattens or tends the
sheep or oxen with a view to their own good and not to the good of
himself or his master; and you further imagine that the rulers of
states, if they are true rulers, never think of their subjects as
sheep, and that they are not studying their own advantage day and
night. Oh, no; and so entirely astray are you in your ideas about the
just and unjust as not even to know that justice and the just are in
reality another’s good; that is to say, the interest of the ruler and
stronger, and the loss of the subject and servant; and injustice the
opposite; for the unjust is lord over the truly simple and just: he is
the stronger, and his subjects do what is for his interest, and
minister to his happiness, which is very far from being their own.
Consider further, most foolish Socrates, that the just is always a
loser in comparison with the unjust. First of all, in private
contracts: wherever the unjust is the partner of the just you will find
that, when the partnership is dissolved, the unjust man has always more
and the just less. Secondly, in their dealings with the State: when
there is an income-tax, the just man will pay more and the unjust less
on the same amount of income; and when there is anything to be received
the one gains nothing and the other much. Observe also what happens
when they take an office; there is the just man neglecting his affairs
and perhaps suffering other losses, and getting nothing out of the
public, because he is just; moreover he is hated by his friends and
acquaintance for refusing to serve them in unlawful ways. But all this
is reversed in the case of the unjust man. I am speaking, as before, of
injustice on a large scale in which the advantage of the unjust is most
apparent; and my meaning will be most clearly seen if we turn to that
highest form of injustice in which the criminal is the happiest of men,
and the sufferers or those who refuse to do injustice are the most
miserable—that is to say tyranny, which by fraud and force takes away
the property of others, not little by little but wholesale;
comprehending in one, things sacred as well as profane, private and
public; for which acts of wrong, if he were detected perpetrating any
one of them singly, he would be punished and incur great disgrace—they
who do such wrong in particular cases are called robbers of temples,
and man-stealers and burglars and swindlers and thieves. But when a man
besides taking away the money of the citizens has made slaves of them,
then, instead of these names of reproach, he is termed happy and
blessed, not only by the citizens but by all who hear of his having
achieved the consummation of injustice. For mankind censure injustice,
fearing that they may be the victims of it and not because they shrink
from committing it. And thus, as I have shown, Socrates, injustice,
when on a sufficient scale, has more strength and freedom and mastery
than justice; and, as I said at first, justice is the interest of the
stronger, whereas injustice is a man’s own profit and interest.
Thrasymachus, when he had thus spoken, having, like a bath-man, deluged
our ears with his words, had a mind to go away. But the company would
not let him; they insisted that he should remain and defend his
position; and I myself added my own humble request that he would not
leave us. Thrasymachus, I said to him, excellent man, how suggestive
are your remarks! And are you going to run away before you have fairly
taught or learned whether they are true or not? Is the attempt to
determine the way of man’s life so small a matter in your eyes—to
determine how life may be passed by each one of us to the greatest
advantage?
And do I differ from you, he said, as to the importance of the enquiry?
You appear rather, I replied, to have no care or thought about us,
Thrasymachus—whether we live better or worse from not knowing what you
say you know, is to you a matter of indifference. Prithee, friend, do
not keep your knowledge to yourself; we are a large party; and any
benefit which you confer upon us will be amply rewarded. For my own
part I openly declare that I am not convinced, and that I do not
believe injustice to be more gainful than justice, even if uncontrolled
and allowed to have free play. For, granting that there may be an
unjust man who is able to commit injustice either by fraud or force,
still this does not convince me of the superior advantage of injustice,
and there may be others who are in the same predicament with myself.
Perhaps we may be wrong; if so, you in your wisdom should convince us
that we are mistaken in preferring justice to injustice.
And how am I to convince you, he said, if you are not already convinced
by what I have just said; what more can I do for you? Would you have me
put the proof bodily into your souls?
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