by Plato
By way of a few simple observations, we may note the immediate contrast presented in book 1 between the aggressive and contemptuous Thrasymachus and the more easygoing Polemarchus and Cephalus. These three are to be contrasted with Glaucon and Adeimantus who, though cooperative and on excellent terms with Socrates, can be persistent questioners. In his confidence and self-importance, Thrasymachus resembles the prominent rhetoricians, sophists, and politicians familiar from other dialogues such as Protagoras, Gorgias, and Euthydemus; his aggressiveness also holds up a mirror to the ideology of “might makes right” that he so enthusiastically embraces. He is out of place, however, in the friendly and almost homey atmosphere of Polemarchus’ house, since he is outnumbered by others keen to participate in a cooperative investigation, rather than witness a verbal competition.
Yet, as much as it owes to Polemarchus’ enthusiasm and the relaxed atmosphere of his home, Republic’s investigation of justice gets under way only because of Glaucon and Adeimantus. Most crucially, the brothers lack Thrasymachus’ egotism, and they are also plainly meant to seem sharper, better educated, and more intellectually gifted than Polemarchus. At 2.367e Socrates explicitly admires Glaucon’s and Adeimantus’ natural talent and ability (physis). The brothers’ conduct and conversation are doubtless intended to reinforce his oft-repeated insistence that both political leadership and philosophy—the two are ideally identical—can be practiced only by a naturally talented, well-trained, and disciplined few.
The good-natured Cephalus lacks the youthful energy and self-discipline to exercise his mind; Polemarchus, though willing, is clearly not able to “philosophize.” In contrast, Thrasymachus may have sufficient natural intelligence to engage in the kind of conversation undertaken by Socrates and Plato’s brothers, but his competitive nabits of self-promotion stand in his way. Modern readers may find Glaucon and Adeimantus too compliant and not sufficiently persistent in their interrogations of Socrates’ formulations and assessments. It is not clear, however, that Republic’s original readers would have so judged them, and it may well be that the two are offered up to readers as youthful models of the philosophical temperament who have benefited from proper education and training.
As we noted above, the importance of Republic’s concerns is affirmed on several occasions by its own interlocutors. It is, of course, Socrates who first asserts this importance, as he incredulously asks Thrasymachus at 1.344e, “Is the attempt to determine the way of man’s life so small a matter in your eyes?”
As we also remarked, Republic’s interlocutors draw attention to the incomplete, provisional, and at times unsatisfactory nature of their treatment of justice, happiness, the ideal political community, the theory of the ideas, the cognitive faculties of human beings, etc. The inadequacy of “the method we are employing” is acknowledged at 4.435c-d, and referring to this acknowledgment, Socrates cautions at 6.504b-d that the philosopher’s examination of justice, wisdom, temperance, and courage “must take a longer and more circuitous way.” His refusal to describe the idea of the good except by means of a simile, on the grounds that the task of delineating the good-in-itself is beyond the present conversation (6.506d—e), is matched by his admission in book 7 that dialectic “is not a theme to be treated of in passing only, but will have to be discussed again and again” (7.532d). Republic, we may conclude, is not meant to offer a definitive “last word” on any of the subjects it broaches. By no means does it tell readers everything that they need to know about justice, about the formation of functional political communities, about the practices and aims of philosophy, about the method of dialectic, about the ideas, even about poetry.
Readers familiar with Plato know well that other dialogues, notably Statesman and Laws, offer perspectives on these very same topics that complement, but also at times differ from, what is presented in Republic, and these differences further underscore the lack of definitiveness in Republic. Nonetheless, Republic is strongly suggestive, and, like its companion dialogues, it is full of “good ideas.” It offers up an enjoyable and—by its own standards—wholesome mimesis of a philosophical discussion, and it grants what was surely meant to be an enticing glimpse into the actual practice of Platonic philosophy.
Republic’s dialogue form encourages us to come forth with our own questions. Socrates’ defense of his conception of the ideal city-state qua ideal (5.472d-e), for example, may prompt us to wonder whether Plato actually thought this theoretical model for a political community was practicable. The gradual identification of the just man with the philosopher in books 6-9 invites speculation as to whether, on the logic of Republic, anyone but the philosopher can be “just” and “happy.”
If we approach the text from an analytic and conceptual standpoint, we find that Socrates and his companions make innumerable assumptions and countless leaps of logic. Each of these can be fairly scrutinized and contested. On a different score, we may raise any number of questions about the insights the dialogue might offer us into our world, and also about its relevance to our experiences and value systems. Much of Republic, especially its political philosophy and argument for censorship, is at odds with modern ideals; some readers will doubtless be dissatisfied with, among other things, its unapologetic elitism and naive confidence in the integrity of “philosopher-rulers.” Some, however, may find that its critique of ancient Athenian society opens the door to meaningful questions about contemporary cultural practices and priorities.
Whatever questions we ask, and whatever kind of “dialogue” we undertake with this text, we will do well to keep in mind that countless individuals from antiquity to the present have shared Republic’s concerns and been influenced by its conceptions—on matters ethical, political, metaphysical, epistemological, eschatological, or aesthetic. Various elements of Plato’s thought also find important parallels in the philosophical and religious traditions of other ancient cultures, such as Confucianism and Buddhism. Republic, then, might have been composed by a single individual in response to a particular set of cultural circumstances in fourth-century B.C.E. Athens, but the questions it raises and the approaches it takes to dealing with these questions are not wholly unique to Plato or even to ancient Athens. The spirit of Socratic—and Platonic—inquiry thus bids each of us to ask our own questions of Republic and let it help us, in turn, examine ourselves and our world.
Elizabeth Watson Scharffenberger received her A.B. in Classical Languages and Literatures from the University of Chicago and her M.A., M.Phil., and Ph.D. in Classics from Columbia University. A specialist in the culture and literature of Athens during the fifth and fourth centuries B.C.E., she currently teaches at Columbia University.
Sources and Acknowledgments
For assistance in composing the introduction and notes to this volume, I have drawn on a variety of sources. James Adams’ commentary on Republic, though more than a century old and controversial in places, has been a great asset, as have been the more recent commentaries by Stephen Halliwell and Penelope Murray. The critical studies of Plato and Republic listed in the bibliography have contributed much to my understanding of the dialogue and its significance; of these, I am most indebted to Andrea Wilson Nightingale’s Genres in Dialogue: Plato and the Construct of Philosophy. Meriting special mention among the more general works is M. L. West’s Ancient Greek Music, which supplies a wealth of important information about ancient instruments and musical tastes and is a particularly welcome companion to the study of book 3’s critique of music and song.
My colleagues and students are owed my boundless gratitude, since they have enriched my appreciation of Plato and Republic in the good old-fashioned Socratic way. My utmost thanks go to Professor Leonardo Taran and Professor James Coulter at Columbia University. Their graduate-level courses on Plato first sparked my enthusiasm for ancient philosophy, and their thoughtful suggestions regarding this edition of Republic have proven invaluable.
Many thanks are also due to the editor of this series, Jeffrey Broesche, and his staff fo
r their patient effort in improving my work and bringing the volume to publication.
NOTE ON THE TRANSLATION
Benjamin Jowett (1818-1893) was appointed the Regius Professor of Greek at Oxford University’s Balliol College in 1855. He became master of Balliol in 1870 and vice-chancellor of the University in 1882. He was a prolific translator of ancient Greek texts as well as author of many scholarly works on the classics. His translation of Plato’s Republic, which was first published in 1871, enjoyed wide popularity for decades in English-speaking countries around the world.
In his review of the third edition of Jowett’s The Dialogues of Plato,a the eminent American classicist Paul Shorey states the following: “Ingenious, fluent, easy are epithets we apply to Professor jowett’s renderings; we should never, I think, call them inevitable” (p. 351). Shorey thus tactfully calls our attention to the fact that jowett’s translation of Plato is not as literal as it could be. As Shorey observes throughout his review, Jowett strove not merely to translate Plato but to interpret him—and to transform his Greek into something that would appeal to English-speaking readers in Great Britain and elsewhere during the Victorian era. The diction of his translation of Republic is accordingly stylized in a way that is at times alien to Plato’s nuanced and precise idiom, and in places its style may strike some modern readers as flowery, if not florid. To enhance its appeal to an audience familiar with English-language classics, Jowett embellished his version of Republic with language evocative of famous literary works dating from the Renaissance on, and readers of this edition should not be surprised if Socrates and his companions occasionally sound as if they were quoting from Shakespeare or the King James version of the Bible.
Nonetheless, Jowett’s translation of Republic remains eminently readable, and I have introduced into it a minimum number of changes. Most important are the corrections called for by Paul Shorey, who spotted several places in which Jowett mistranslated the Greek text. A list of the sections in which I have incorporated the corrections recommended by Shorey is given at the end of this note. In addition, I have occasionally replaced obsolete vocabulary with words more commonly used today. Some of Jowett’s choices, such as the rendering of the Greek word theos by “God” (with a capital G), appear so often as to make their alteration difficult; in these cases, I have left his text intact and discuss his choices—and why I disagree with them—in the endnotes. I also discuss in the endnotes a few instances in which I prefer a different reading of the Greek text but have not altered Jowett’s translation.
Jowett sometimes let the Greek usage, in which nouns designating inanimate as well as animate objects have gender (that is, masculine, feminine, or neuter), guide his choice of pronouns. Thus “soul” (psychê), which is feminine in Greek, is referred to by feminine pronouns such as “she”; “sun,” which is masculine (helios), is “he,” and so forth. I have changed Jowett’s renderings of these pronouns in only a few instances, since readers, once aware of his practice, will be able to make good sense of the passages in question.
Passages in this edition that incorporate corrections recommended
by Paul Shorey:
1.341c, 1.344e, 4.437d, 4.439e, 5.464e, 5.473a, 6.490d, 6.493c-d, 6.498a, 7.523c, 7.525b, 7.526c, 7.534a, 7.540b, 8.553d, 9.575c, 9.576d, 9.579c, 9.581c, 9.581d-e, 10.607a, 10.611b.
BOOK 1
SPEAKERSb
SOCRATES
GLAUCON
ADEIMANTUS
POLEMARCHUS
CEPHALUS
THRASYMACHUS
CLEITOPHON
I WENT DOWN YESTERDAY to the Piræusc with Glaucon, the son of Ariston, that I might offer up my prayers to the goddess;d and also because I wanted to see in what manner they would celebrate the festival, which was a new thing. I was delighted with the procession of the inhabitants; but that of the Thracians was equally, if not more, beautiful. When we had finished our prayers and viewed the spectacle, we turned in the direction of the city; and at that instant Polemarchus, the son of Cephalus, chanced to catch sight of us from a distance as we were starting on our way home, and told his slave to run and bid us wait for him. The slave took hold of me by the cloak behind, and said, Polemarchus desires you to wait.
327
b
I turned round, and asked him where his master was.
There he is, said the slave, coming after you, if you will only wait.
Certainly we will, said Glaucon; and in a few minutes Polemarchus appeared, and with him Adeimantus, Glaucon’s brother, Niceratus, the son of Nicias, and several others who had been at the procession.
c
Polemarchus said to me, I perceive, Socrates, that you and your companion are already on your way to the city.
You are not far wrong, I said.
But do you see, he rejoined, how many we are?
Of course.
And are you stronger than all these? for if not, you will have to remain where you are.
May there not be the alternative, I said, that we may persuade you to let us go?
But can you persuade us, if we refuse to listen to you? he said.
Certainly not, replied Glaucon.
Then we are not going to listen; of that you may be assured.
Adeimantus added: Has no one told you of the torch-race on horseback in honor of the goddess which will take place in the evening?
328
With horses! I replied. That is a novelty. Will horsemen carry torches and pass them one to another during the race?
Yes, said Polemarchus; and not only so, but a festival will be celebrated at night, which you certainly ought to see. Let us rise soon after supper and see this festival; there will be a gathering of young men, and we will have a good talk. Stay then, and do not be perverse.
b
Glaucon said, I suppose, since you insist, that we must.
Very good, I replied.
Accordingly we went with Polemarchus to his house; and there we found his brothers Lysias and Euthydemus, and with them Thrasymachus the Chalcedonian, Charmantides the Pæanian, and Cleitophon, the son of Aristonymus. There too was Cephalus, the father of Polemarchus, whom I had not seen for a long time, and I thought him very much aged. He was seated on a cushioned chair, and had a garland on his head, for he had been sacrificing in the court; and there were some other chairs in the room arranged in a semicircle, upon which we sat down by him. He saluted me eagerly, and then he said:
c
You don’t come to see me, Socrates, as often as you ought: If I were still able to go and see you I would not ask you to come to me. But at my age I can hardly get to the city, and therefore you should come oftener to the Piræus. For, let me tell you that the more the pleasures of the body fade away, the greater to me are the pleasure and charm of conversation. Do not, then, deny my request, but make our house your resort and keep company with these young men; we are old friends, and you will be quite at home with us.
d
I replied: There is nothing which for my part I like better, Cephalus, than conversing with aged men; for I regard them as travellers who have gone a journey which I too may have to go, and of whom I ought to inquire whether the way is smooth and easy or rugged and difficult. And this is a question which I should like to ask of you, who have arrived at that time which the poets call the “threshold of old age”:e Is life harder toward the end, or what report do you give of it?
e
I will tell you, Socrates, he said, what my own feeling is. Men of my age flock together; we are birds of a feather, as the old proverb says;f and at our meetings the tale of my acquaintance commonly is: I cannot eat, I cannot drink; the pleasures of youth and love are fled away; there was a good time once, but now that is gone, and life is no longer life. Some complain of the slights which are put upon them by relations, and they will tell you sadly of how many evils their old age is the cause. But to me, Socrates, these com plainers seem to blame that which is not really in fault. For if old age were the cause, I too, bein
g old, and every other old man would have felt as they do. But this is not my own experience, nor that of others whom I have known. How well I remember the aged poet Sophocles,g when in answer to the question, How does love suit with age, Sophocles—are you still the man you were? Peace, he replied; most gladly have I escaped the thing of which you speak; I feel as if I had escaped from a mad and furious master. His words have often occurred to my mind since, and they seem as good to me now as at the time when he uttered them. For certainly old age has a great sense of calm and freedom; when the passions relax their hold, then, as Sophocles says, we are freed from the grasp not of one mad master only, but of many. The truth is, Socrates, that these regrets, and also the complaints about relations, are to be attributed to the same cause, which is not old age, but men’s characters and tempers; for he who is of a calm and happy nature will hardly feel the pressure of age, but to him who is of an opposite disposition youth and age are equally a burden.
329
c
d
I listened in admiration, and wanting to draw him out, that he might go on—Yes, Cephalus, I said; but I rather suspect that people in general are not convinced by you when you speak thus; they think that old age sits lightly upon you, not because of your happy disposition, but because you are rich, and wealth is well known to be a great comforter.