Republic (1.337-1.341)

You surely must not suppose that, my friend. But you see it is our lack of ability that is at fault. It is pity then that we should far more reasonably receive from clever fellows like you than severity. And he on hearing this gave a great guffaw and laughed sardonically and said, Ye gods! here we have the well-known irony[*] of Socrates, and I knew it and predicted that when it came to replying you would refuse and dissemble and do anything rather than answer any question that anyone asked you.That’s because you are wise, Thrasymachus, and so you knew very well that if you asked a man how many are twelve, and in putting the question warned him: don’t you be telling me, fellow, that twelve is twice six or three times four or six times two or four times three, for I won’t accept any such drivel as that from you as an answer—it was obvious I fancy to you that no one could give an answer to a question framed in that fashion. Suppose he had said to you, Thrasymachus, what do you mean? Am I not to give any of the prohibited answers, not even, do you mean to say, if the thing really is one of these, but must I say something different from the truth, or what do you mean? What would have been your answer to him?Humph! said he, how very like the two cases are! There is nothing to prevent, said I; yet even granted that they are not alike, yet if it appears to the person asked the question that they are alike, do you suppose that he will any the less answer what appears to him, whether we forbid him or whether we don’t? Is that, then, said he, what you are going to do? Are you going to give one of the forbidden answers? I shouldn’t be surprised, I said, if on reflection that would be my view. What then, he said, if I show you another answer about justice differing from all these, a better one—what penalty do you think you deserve? Why, what else, said I, than that which it befits anyone who is ignorant to suffer? It befits him, I presume, to learn from the one who does know. That then is what I propose that I should suffer. I like your simplicity,[*] said he; but in addition to learningyou must pay a fine of money. Well, I will when I have got it, I said. It is there, said Glaucon: if money is all that stands in the way, Thrasymachus, go on with your speech. We will all contribute for Socrates. Oh yes, of course, said he, so that Socrates may contrive, as he always does, to evade answering himself but may cross-examine the other man and refute his replies.

Why, how, I said, my dear fellow, could anybody answer if in the first place he did not know and did not even profess to know, and secondly even if he had some notion of the matter, he had been told by a man of weight that he mustn’t give any of his suppositions as an answer? Nay, it is more reasonable that you should be the speaker. For you do affirm that you know and are able to tell. Don’t be obstinate, but do me the favor to reply and don’t be chary[*] of your wisdom, and instruct Glaucon here and the rest of us. When I had spoken thus Glaucon and the others urged him not to be obstinate. It was quite plain that Thrasymachus was eager to speak in order that he might do himself credit, since he believed that he had a most excellent answer to our question. But he demurred and pretended to make a point of my being the respondent. Finally he gave way and then said, Here you have the wisdom of Socrates, to refuse himself to teach, but go about and learn from others and not even pay thanks[*] therefor. That I learn from others, I said, you said truly, Thrasymachus. But in saying that I do not pay thanks you are mistaken. I pay as much as I am able. And I am able only to bestow praise. For money I lack.[*] But that I praise right willingly those who appear to speak well you will well know forthwith as soon as you have given your answer. For I think that you will speak well. Hearken and hear then, said he. I affirm that the just is nothing else than[*] the advantage of the stronger.[*] Well, why don’t you applaud? Nay, you’ll do anything but that. Provided only I first understand your meaning, said I; for I don’t yet apprehend it. The advantage of the stronger is what you affirm the just to be. But what in the world do you mean by this? I presume you don’t intend to affirm this, that if Polydamas the pancratiast is stronger than we are and the flesh of beeves[*] is advantageous for him, for his body, this viand is also for us who are weaker than he both advantageous and just. You’re a buffoon,[*] Socrates, and take my statement[*] in the most detrimental sense. Not at all, my dear fellow said I; I only want you to make your meaning plainer.[*] Don’t you know then, said he, that some cities are governed by tyrants, in others democracy rules, in others aristocracy?[*] Assuredly. And is not this the thing that is strong and has the mastery[*] in each—the ruling party? Certainly. And each form of government enacts the laws with a view to its own advantage, a democracy democratic laws and tyranny autocratic and the others likewise, and by so legislating they proclaim that the just for their subjects is that which is for their—the rulers’—advantage and the man who deviates[*] from this law they chastise as a law-breaker and a wrongdoer.

This, then, my good sir, is what I understand as the identical principle of justice that obtains in all states —the advantage of the established government. This I presume you will admit holds power and is strong, so that, if one reasons rightly, it works out that the just is the same thing everywhere,[*] the advantage of the stronger.Now, said I, I have learned your meaning, but whether it is true or not I have to try to learn. The advantageous, then, is also your reply, Thrasymachus, to the question, what is the just—though you forbade me to give that answer. But you add thereto that of the stronger. A trifling addition[*] perhaps you think it, he said. It is not yet clear[*] whether it is a big one either; but that we must inquire whether what you say is true, is clear.[*] For since I too admit that the just is something that is of advantage[*]—but you are for making an addition and affirm it to be the advantage of the stronger, while I don’t profess to know,[*] we must pursue the inquiry. Inquire away, he said. I will do so, said I. Tell me, then; you affirm also, do you not, that obedience to rulers is just? I do. May I ask whether the rulers in the various states are infallible[*] or capable sometimes of error? Surely, he said, they are liable to err. Then in their attempts at legislation they enact some laws rightly and some not rightly, do they not? So I suppose. And by rightly we are to understand for their advantage, and by wrongly to their disadvantage? Do you mean that or not? That. But whatever they enact[*] must be performed by their subjects and is justice? Of course. Then on your theory it is just not only to do what is the advantage of the stronger but also the opposite, what is not to his advantage. What’s that you’re saying?[*] he replied. What you yourself are saying,[*] I think. Let us consider it more closely. Have we not agreed that the rulers in giving orders to the ruled sometimes mistake their own advantage, and that whatever the rulers enjoin is just for the subjects to perform? Was not that admitted? I think it was, he replied. Then you will have to think,[*] I said, that to do what is disadvantageous to the rulers and the stronger has been admitted by you to be just in the case when the rulers unwittingly enjoin what is bad for themselves, while you affirm that it is just for the others to do what they enjoined. In that way does not this conclusion inevitably follow, my most sapient[*] Thrasymachus, that it is just to do the very opposite[*] of what you say? For it is in that case surely the disadvantage of the stronger or superior that the inferior are commanded to perform.

Yes, by Zeus, Socrates, said Polemarchus, nothing could be more conclusive. Of course, said Cleitophon, breaking in, if you are his witness.[*] What need is there of a witness? Polemarchus said. Thrasymachus himself admits that the rulers sometimes enjoin what is evil for themselves and yet says that it is just for the subjects to do this. That, Polemarchus, is because Thrasymachus laid it down that it is just to obey the orders[*] of the rulers. Yes, Cleitophon, but he also took the position that the advantage of the stronger is just. And after these two assumptions he again admitted that the stronger sometimes bid the inferior and their subjects do what is to the disadvantage of the rulers. And from these admissions the just would no more be the advantage of the stronger than the contrary. O well, said Cleitophon, by the advantage of the superior he meant what the superior supposed to be for his advantage. This was what the inferior had to do, and that this is the just was his position. That isn’t what he said, replied Polemarchus. Never mind, Polemarchus, said I, but if that is Thrasymachus’s present meaning, let us take it from him[*] in that sense. So tell me, Thrasymachus, was this what you intended to say, that the just is the advantage of the superior as it appears to the superior whether it really is or not? Are we to say this was your meaning? Not in the least, he said.[*] Do you suppose that I call one who is in error a superior when he errs? I certainly did suppose that you meant that, I replied, when you agreed that rulers are not infallible but sometimes make mistakes. That is because you argue like a pettifogger, Socrates. Why, to take the nearest example, do you call one who is mistaken about the sick a physician in respect of his mistake or one who goes wrong in a calculation a calculator when he goes wrong and in respect of this error? Yet that is what we say literally—we say that the physician[*] erred and the calculator and the schoolmaster. But the truth, I take it, is, that each of these in so far as he is that which we entitle him never errs; so that, speaking precisely, since you are such a stickler for precision,[*] no craftsman errs. For it is when his knowledge abandons him that he who goes wrong goes wrong—when he is not a craftsman. So that no craftsman, wise man, or ruler makes a mistake then when he is a ruler, though everybody would use the expression that the physician made a mistake and the ruler erred.

It is in this loose way of speaking, then, that you must take the answer I gave you a little while ago. But the most precise statement is that other, that the ruler in so far forth as ruler does not err, and not erring he enacts what is best for himself, and this the subject must do, so that, even as I meant from the start, I say the just is to do what is for the advantage of the stronger. So then, Thrasymachus, said I, my manner of argument seems to you pettifogging? It does, he said. You think, do you, that it was with malice aforethought and trying to get the better of you unfairly that I asked that question? I don’t think it, I know it, he said, and you won’t make anything by it, for you won’t get the better of me by stealth and , failing stealth, you are not of the force[*] to beat me in debate. Bless your soul, said I, I wouldn’t even attempt such a thing. But that nothing of the sort may spring up between us again, define in which sense you take the ruler and stronger. Do you mean the so-called ruler[*] or that ruler in the precise sense of whom you were just now telling us, and for whose advantage as being the superior it will be just for the inferior to act? I mean the ruler in the very most precise sense of the word, he said. Now bring on against this your cavils and your shyster’s tricks if you are able. I ask no quarter. But you’ll find yourself unable. Why, do you suppose, I said, that I am so mad to try to try to beard a lion[*] and try the pettifogger on Thrasymachus? You did try it just now, he said, paltry fellow though you be.[*] Something too much[*] of this sort of thing, said I. But tell me, your physician in the precise sense of whom you were just now speaking, is he a moneymaker, an earner of fees, or a healer of the sick? And remember to speak of the physician who is really such. A healer of the sick, he replied. And what of the lot—the pilot rightly so called—is he a ruler of sailors or a sailor? A ruler of sailors. We don’t, I fancy, have to take into account the fact that he actually sails in the ship, nor is he to be denominated a sailor. For it is not in respect of his sailing that he is called a pilot but in respect of his art and his ruling of the sailors. True, he said. Then for each of them[*] is there not a something that is for his advantage? Quite so. And is it not also true, said I, that the art naturally exists for this, to discover and provide for each his advantage? Yes, for this. Is there, then, for each of the arts any other advantage than to be perfect as possible[*]? What do you mean by that question? Just as if, I said, you should ask me whether it is enough for the body to be the body or whether it stands in need of something else, I would reply, By all means it stands in need. That is the reason why the art of medicine has now been invented, because the body is defective and such defect is unsatisfactory. To provide for this, then, what is advantageous, that is the end for which the art was devised. Do you think that would be a correct answer, or not?