Plato, Republic

Socrates

“So now, Glaucon,” I said, “our argument after winding¹ a long² and weary way has at last made clear to us who are the philosophers or lovers of wisdom and who are not.” “Yes,” he said, “a shorter way is perhaps not feasible.” “Apparently not,” I said. “I, at any rate, think that the matter would have been made still plainer if we had had nothing but this to speak of, and if there were not so many things left which our purpose³ of discerning the difference between the just and [484b] the unjust life requires us to discuss.” “What, then,” he said, “comes next?” “What else,” said I, “but the next in order? Since the philosophers are those who are capable of apprehending that which is eternal and unchanging,⁴ while those who are incapable of this but lose themselves and wander⁵ amid the multiplicities of multifarious things, are not philosophers, which of the two kinds ought to be the leaders in a state?” “What, then,” he said, “would be a fair statement of the matter?” “Whichever,” I said, “appear competent to guard the laws and pursuits of society, [484c] these we should establish as guardians.” “Right” he said. “Is this, then,” said I, “clear, whether the guardian who is to keep watch over anything ought to be blind or keen of sight?” “Of course it is clear,” he said. “Do you think, then, that there is any appreciable difference between the blind⁶ and those who are veritably deprived of the knowledge of the veritable being of things, those who have no vivid pattern⁷ in their souls and so cannot, as painters look to their models, fix their eyes⁸ on the absolute truth, and always with reference to that ideal and in the exactest possible contemplation of it [484d] establish in this world also the laws of the beautiful, the just and the good, when that is needful, or guard and preserve those that are established?” “No, by heaven,” he said, “there is not much difference.” “Shall we, then, appoint these blind souls as our guardians, rather than those who have learned to know the ideal reality of things and who do not fall short of the others in experience⁹ and are not second to them in any part of virtue?” “It would be strange indeed,” he said, “to choose others than the philosophers, provided they were not deficient in those other respects, for this very knowledge [485a] of the ideal would perhaps be the greatest of superiorities.” “Then what we have to say is how it would be possible for the same persons to have both qualifications, is it not?” “ Quite so.” “Then, as we were saying at the beginning of this discussion, the first thing to understand is the nature that they must have from birth; and I think that if we sufficiently agree on this we shall also agree that the combination of qualities that we seek belongs to the same persons, and that we need no others for guardians of states than these.” “How so?”

“We must accept as agreed this trait of the philosophical nature, [485b] that it is ever enamored of the kind of knowledge which reveals to them something of that essence which is eternal, and is not wandering between the two poles of generation and decay.¹⁰” “Let us take that as agreed.” “And, further,” said I, “that their desire is for the whole of it and that they do not willingly renounce a small or a great, a more precious or a less honored, part of it. That was the point of our former illustration¹¹ drawn from lovers and men covetous of honor.” “You are right,” he said. “Consider, then, next whether the men who are to meet our requirements [485c] must not have this further quality in their natures.” “What quality?” “The spirit of truthfulness, reluctance to admit falsehood in any form, the hatred of it and the love of truth.” “It is likely,” he said. “It is not only likely, my friend, but there is every necessity¹² that he who is by nature enamored of anything should cherish all that is akin and pertaining to the object of his love.” “Right,” he said. “Could you find anything more akin to wisdom than truth¹³?” “Impossible,” he said. “Then can the same nature be a lover of wisdom and of falsehood?” [485d] “By no means.” “Then the true lover of knowledge must, from childhood up, be most of all a striver after truth in every form.” “By all means.” “But, again, we surely are aware that when in a man the desires incline strongly to any one thing, they are weakened for other things. It is as if the stream had been diverted into another channel.¹⁴ “Surely.” “So, when a man's desires have been taught to flow in the channel of learning and all that sort of thing, they will be concerned, I presume, with the pleasures of the soul in itself, and will be indifferent to those of which the body is the instrument,¹⁵ if the man is a true and not a sham¹⁶ philosopher.” [485e] “That is quite necessary.” “Such a man will be temperate and by no means greedy for wealth; for the things for the sake of which money and great expenditure are eagerly sought others may take seriously, but not he.” “It is so.” “And there is this further point to be considered in distinguishing [486a] the philosophical from the unphilosophical nature.” “What point?” “You must not overlook any touch of illiberality.¹⁷ For nothing can be more contrary than such pettiness to the quality of a soul that is ever to seek integrity and wholeness¹⁸ in all things human and divine.” “Most true,” he said. “Do you think that a mind habituated to thoughts of grandeur and the contemplation of all time and all existence¹⁹ can deem this life of man a thing of great concern²⁰?” “Impossible,” said he. [486b] “Hence such a man will not suppose death to be terrible?²¹” “Least of all.” “Then a cowardly and illiberal spirit, it seems, could have no part in genuine philosophy.” “I think not.” “What then? Could a man of orderly spirit, not a lover of money, not illiberal, nor a braggart nor a coward, ever prove unjust, or a driver of hard bargains²²?” “Impossible.” “This too, then, is a point that in your discrimination of the philosophic and unphilosophic soul you will observe—whether the man is from youth up just and gentle or unsocial and savage.²³” “Assuredly.” “Nor will you overlook this, [486c] I fancy.” “What?” “Whether he is quick or slow to learn. Or do you suppose that anyone could properly love a task which he performed painfully²⁴ and with little result²⁵ from much toil?” “That could not be.” “And if he could not keep what he learned, being steeped in oblivion,²⁶ could he fail to be void of knowledge?” “How could he?” “And so, having all his labor for naught, will he not finally be constrained to loathe himself and that occupation?” [486d] “Of course.” “The forgetful soul, then, we must not list in the roll of competent lovers of wisdom, but we require a good memory.” “By all means.” “But assuredly we should not say that the want of harmony and seemliness in a nature conduces to anything else than the want of measure and proportion.” “Certainly.” “And do you think that truth is akin to measure and proportion or to disproportion?” “To proportion.” “Then in addition to our other requirements we look for a mind endowed with measure and grace, whose native disposition will make it easily guided [486e] to the aspect of the ideal²⁷ reality in all things.” “Assuredly.” “Tell me, then, is there any flaw in the argument? Have we not proved the qualities enumerated to be necessary and compatible²⁸ with one another for the soul that is to have a sufficient and perfect apprehension of reality?” [487a] “Nay, most necessary,” he said. “Is there any fault, then, that you can find with a pursuit which a man could not properly practise unless he were by nature of good memory, quick apprehension, magnificent,²⁹ gracious, friendly and akin to truth, justice, bravery and sobriety?” “Momus³⁰ himself,” he said, “could not find fault with such a combination.” “Well, then,” said I, “when men of this sort are perfected by education and maturity of age, would you not entrust the state solely to them?”

And Adeimantus said, “No one, Socrates, [487b] would be able to controvert these statements of yours. But, all the same, those who occasionally hear you³¹ argue thus feel in this way³²: They think that owing to their inexperience in the game of question and answer³³ they are at every question led astray³⁴ a little bit by the argument, and when these bits are accumulated at the conclusion of the discussion mighty is their fall³⁵ and the apparent contradiction of what they at first said³⁶; and that just as by expert draught-players³⁷ the unskilled are finally shut in and cannot make a move, [487c] so they are finally blocked and have their mouths stopped by this other game of draughts played not with counters but with words; yet the truth is not affected by that outcome.³⁸ I say this with reference to the present case, for in this instance one might say that he is unable in words to contend against you at each question, but that when it comes to facts³⁹ he sees that of those who turn to philosophy,⁴⁰ not merely touching upon it to complete their education⁴¹ [487d] and dropping it while still young, but lingering too long⁴² in the study of it, the majority become cranks,⁴³ not to say rascals, and those accounted the finest spirits among them are still rendered useless⁴⁴ to society by the pursuit⁴⁵ which you commend.” And I, on hearing this, said, “Do you think that they are mistaken in saying so?” “I don't know,” said he, [487e] “but I would gladly hear your opinion.” “You may hear, then, that I think that what they say is true.” “How, then,” he replied, “can it be right to say that our cities will never be freed from their evils until the philosophers, whom we admit to be useless to them, become their rulers?” “Your question,” I said, “requires an answer expressed in a comparison or parable.⁴⁶” “And you,” he said, “of course, are not accustomed to speak in comparisons!”

“So,” said I, “you are making fun of me after driving me into such an impasse of argument. But, all the same, hear my comparison [488a] so that you may still better see how I strain after⁴⁷ imagery. For so cruel is the condition of the better sort in relation to the state that there is no single thing⁴⁸ like it in nature. But to find a likeness for it and a defence for them one must bring together many things in such a combination as painters mix when they portray goat-stags⁴⁹ and similar creatures.⁵⁰ Conceive this sort of thing happening either on many ships or on one: Picture a shipmaster⁵¹ in height and strength surpassing all others on the ship, [488b] but who is slightly deaf⁵² and of similarly impaired vision, and whose knowledge of navigation is on a par with⁵³ his sight and hearing. Conceive the sailors to be wrangling with one another for control of the helm, each claiming that it is his right to steer though he has never learned the art and cannot point out his teacher⁵⁴ or any time when he studied it. And what is more, they affirm that it cannot be taught at all,⁵⁵ but they are ready to make mincemeat of anyone⁵⁶ who says that it can be taught, [488c] and meanwhile they are always clustered about⁵⁷ the shipmaster importuning him and sticking at nothing⁵⁸ to induce him to turn over the helm to them. And sometimes, if they fail and others get his ear, they put the others to death or cast them out⁵⁹ from the ship, and then, after binding⁶⁰ and stupefying the worthy shipmaster⁶¹ with mandragora or intoxication or otherwise, they take command of the ship, consume its stores and, drinking and feasting, make such a voyage⁶² of it as is to be expected⁶³ from such, and as if that were not enough, they praise and celebrate as a navigator, [488d] a pilot, a master of shipcraft, the man who is most cunning to lend a hand⁶⁴ in persuading or constraining the shipmaster to let them rule,⁶⁵ while the man who lacks this craft⁶⁶ they censure as useless. They have no suspicions⁶⁷ that the true pilot must give his attention⁶⁸ to the time of the year, the seasons, the sky, the winds, the stars, and all that pertains to his art if he is to be a true ruler of a ship, and that he does not believe that there is any art or science of seizing the helm⁶⁹ [488e] with or without the consent of others, or any possibility of mastering this alleged art⁷⁰ and the practice of it at the same time with the science of navigation. With such goings-on aboard ship do you not think that the real pilot would in very deed⁷¹ be called a star-gazer, an idle babbler, [489a] a useless fellow, by the sailors in ships managed after this fashion?” “Quite so,” said Adeimantus. “You take my meaning, I presume, and do not require us to put the comparison to the proof⁷² and show that the condition⁷³ we have described is the exact counterpart of the relation of the state to the true philosophers.” “It is indeed,” he said. “To begin with, then, teach this parable⁷⁴ to the man who is surprised that philosophers are not honored in our cities, and try to convince him that it would be far more surprising [489b] if they were honored.” “I will teach him,”⁷⁵ he said. “And say to him further: You are right in affirming that the finest spirit among the philosophers are of no service to the multitude. But bid him blame for this uselessness,⁷⁶ not the finer spirits, but those who do not know how to make use of them. For it is not the natural⁷⁷ course of things that the pilot should beg the sailors to be ruled by him or that wise men should go to the doors of the rich.⁷⁸ The author of that epigram⁷⁹ was a liar. But the true nature of things is that whether the sick man be rich or poor he must needs go to the door of the physician, [489c] and everyone who needs to be governed⁸⁰ to the door of the man who knows how to govern, not that the ruler should implore his natural subjects to let themselves be ruled, if he is really good for anything.