The Republic
I grow impatient at the length of your exordium.
Well then, tell me, I said, whether I am right or not: You remember the
original principle which we were always laying down at the foundation
of the State, that one man should practise one thing only, the thing to
which his nature was best adapted;—now justice is this principle or a
part of it.
Yes, we often said that one man should do one thing only.
Further, we affirmed that justice was doing one’s own business, and not
being a busybody; we said so again and again, and many others have said
the same to us.
Yes, we said so.
Then to do one’s own business in a certain way may be assumed to be
justice. Can you tell me whence I derive this inference?
I cannot, but I should like to be told.
Because I think that this is the only virtue which remains in the State
when the other virtues of temperance and courage and wisdom are
abstracted; and, that this is the ultimate cause and condition of the
existence of all of them, and while remaining in them is also their
preservative; and we were saying that if the three were discovered by
us, justice would be the fourth or remaining one.
That follows of necessity.
If we are asked to determine which of these four qualities by its
presence contributes most to the excellence of the State, whether the
agreement of rulers and subjects, or the preservation in the soldiers
of the opinion which the law ordains about the true nature of dangers,
or wisdom and watchfulness in the rulers, or whether this other which I
am mentioning, and which is found in children and women, slave and
freeman, artisan, ruler, subject,—the quality, I mean, of every one
doing his own work, and not being a busybody, would claim the palm—the
question is not so easily answered.
Certainly, he replied, there would be a difficulty in saying which.
Then the power of each individual in the State to do his own work
appears to compete with the other political virtues, wisdom,
temperance, courage.
Yes, he said.
And the virtue which enters into this competition is justice?
Exactly.
Let us look at the question from another point of view: Are not the
rulers in a State those to whom you would entrust the office of
determining suits at law?
Certainly.
And are suits decided on any other ground but that a man may neither
take what is another’s, nor be deprived of what is his own?
Yes; that is their principle.
Which is a just principle?
Yes.
Then on this view also justice will be admitted to be the having and
doing what is a man’s own, and belongs to him?
Very true.
Think, now, and say whether you agree with me or not. Suppose a
carpenter to be doing the business of a cobbler, or a cobbler of a
carpenter; and suppose them to exchange their implements or their
duties, or the same person to be doing the work of both, or whatever be
the change; do you think that any great harm would result to the State?
Not much.
But when the cobbler or any other man whom nature designed to be a
trader, having his heart lifted up by wealth or strength or the number
of his followers, or any like advantage, attempts to force his way into
the class of warriors, or a warrior into that of legislators and
guardians, for which he is unfitted, and either to take the implements
or the duties of the other; or when one man is trader, legislator, and
warrior all in one, then I think you will agree with me in saying that
this interchange and this meddling of one with another is the ruin of
the State.
Most true.
Seeing then, I said, that there are three distinct classes, any
meddling of one with another, or the change of one into another, is the
greatest harm to the State, and may be most justly termed evil-doing?
Precisely.
And the greatest degree of evil-doing to one’s own city would be termed
by you injustice?
Certainly.
This then is injustice; and on the other hand when the trader, the
auxiliary, and the guardian each do their own business, that is
justice, and will make the city just.
I agree with you.
We will not, I said, be over-positive as yet; but if, on trial, this
conception of justice be verified in the individual as well as in the
State, there will be no longer any room for doubt; if it be not
verified, we must have a fresh enquiry. First let us complete the old
investigation, which we began, as you remember, under the impression
that, if we could previously examine justice on the larger scale, there
would be less difficulty in discerning her in the individual. That
larger example appeared to be the State, and accordingly we constructed
as good a one as we could, knowing well that in the good State justice
would be found. Let the discovery which we made be now applied to the
individual—if they agree, we shall be satisfied; or, if there be a
difference in the individual, we will come back to the State and have
another trial of the theory. The friction of the two when rubbed
together may possibly strike a light in which justice will shine forth,
and the vision which is then revealed we will fix in our souls.
That will be in regular course; let us do as you say.
I proceeded to ask: When two things, a greater and less, are called by
the same name, are they like or unlike in so far as they are called the
same?
Like, he replied.
The just man then, if we regard the idea of justice only, will be like
the just State?
He will.
And a State was thought by us to be just when the three classes in the
State severally did their own business; and also thought to be
temperate and valiant and wise by reason of certain other affections
and qualities of these same classes?
True, he said.
And so of the individual; we may assume that he has the same three
principles in his own soul which are found in the State; and he may be
rightly described in the same terms, because he is affected in the same
manner?
Certainly, he said.
Once more then, O my friend, we have alighted upon an easy
question—whether the soul has these three principles or not?
An easy question! Nay, rather, Socrates, the proverb holds that hard is
the good.
Very true, I said; and I do not think that the method which we are
employing is at all adequate to the accurate solution of this question;
the true method is another and a longer one. Still we may arrive at a
solution not below the level of the previous enquiry.
May we not be satisfied with that? he said;—under the circumstances, I
am quite content.
I too, I replied, shall be extremely well satisfied.
Then faint not in pursuing the speculation, he said.
Must we not acknowledge, I said, that in each of us there are the same
principles and habits which there are in the State; and that from the
individual they pass into the State?—how else can they come there? Take
the quality of passion or spirit;—it would be ridiculous to imagine
that this quality, when found in States, is not derived from the
individuals who are supposed to possess it, e.g. the Thracians,
Scythians, and in general the northern nations; and the same may be
said of the love of knowledge, which is the special characteristic of
our part of the world, or of the love of money, which may, with equal
truth, be attributed to the Phoenicians and Egyptians.
Exactly so, he said.
There is no difficulty in understanding this.
None whatever.
But the question is not quite so easy when we proceed to ask whether
these principles are three or one; whether, that is to say, we learn
with one part of our nature, are angry with another, and with a third
part desire the satisfaction of our natural appetites; or whether the
whole soul comes into play in each sort of action—to determine that is
the difficulty.
Yes, he said; there lies the difficulty.
Then let us now try and determine whether they are the same or
different.
How can we? he asked.
I replied as follows: The same thing clearly cannot act or be acted
upon in the same part or in relation to the same thing at the same
time, in contrary ways; and therefore whenever this contradiction
occurs in things apparently the same, we know that they are really not
the same, but different.
Good.
For example, I said, can the same thing be at rest and in motion at the
same time in the same part?
Impossible.
Still, I said, let us have a more precise statement of terms, lest we
should hereafter fall out by the way. Imagine the case of a man who is
standing and also moving his hands and his head, and suppose a person
to say that one and the same person is in motion and at rest at the
same moment—to such a mode of speech we should object, and should
rather say that one part of him is in motion while another is at rest.
Very true.
And suppose the objector to refine still further, and to draw the nice
distinction that not only parts of tops, but whole tops, when they spin
round with their pegs fixed on the spot, are at rest and in motion at
the same time (and he may say the same of anything which revolves in
the same spot), his objection would not be admitted by us, because in
such cases things are not at rest and in motion in the same parts of
themselves; we should rather say that they have both an axis and a
circumference, and that the axis stands still, for there is no
deviation from the perpendicular; and that the circumference goes
round. But if, while revolving, the axis inclines either to the right
or left, forwards or backwards, then in no point of view can they be at
rest.
That is the correct mode of describing them, he replied.
Then none of these objections will confuse us, or incline us to believe
that the same thing at the same time, in the same part or in relation
to the same thing, can act or be acted upon in contrary ways.
Certainly not, according to my way of thinking.
Yet, I said, that we may not be compelled to examine all such
objections, and prove at length that they are untrue, let us assume
their absurdity, and go forward on the understanding that hereafter, if
this assumption turn out to be untrue, all the consequences which
follow shall be withdrawn.
Yes, he said, that will be the best way.
Well, I said, would you not allow that assent and dissent, desire and
aversion, attraction and repulsion, are all of them opposites, whether
they are regarded as active or passive (for that makes no difference in
the fact of their opposition)?
Yes, he said, they are opposites.
Well, I said, and hunger and thirst, and the desires in general, and
again willing and wishing,—all these you would refer to the classes
already mentioned. You would say—would you not?—that the soul of him
who desires is seeking after the object of his desire; or that he is
drawing to himself the thing which he wishes to possess: or again, when
a person wants anything to be given him, his mind, longing for the
realization of his desire, intimates his wish to have it by a nod of
assent, as if he had been asked a question?
Very true.
And what would you say of unwillingness and dislike and the absence of
desire; should not these be referred to the opposite class of repulsion
and rejection?
Certainly.
Admitting this to be true of desire generally, let us suppose a
particular class of desires, and out of these we will select hunger and
thirst, as they are termed, which are the most obvious of them?
Let us take that class, he said.
The object of one is food, and of the other drink?
Yes.
And here comes the point: is not thirst the desire which the soul has
of drink, and of drink only; not of drink qualified by anything else;
for example, warm or cold, or much or little, or, in a word, drink of
any particular sort: but if the thirst be accompanied by heat, then the
desire is of cold drink; or, if accompanied by cold, then of warm