Complete Works
Page 178
That does sometimes happen.
But I suppose that, as desires are expelled, others akin to them are being nurtured unawares, and because of his father’s ignorance about how to bring him up, they grow numerous and strong. [b]
That’s what tends to happen.
These desires draw him back into the same bad company and in secret intercourse breed a multitude of others.
Certainly.
And, seeing the citadel of the young man’s soul empty of knowledge, fine ways of living, and words of truth (which are the best watchmen and guardians of the thoughts of those men whom the gods love), they finally occupy that citadel themselves.
They certainly do. [c]
And in the absence of these guardians, false and boastful words and beliefs rush up and occupy this part of him.
Indeed, they do.
Won’t he then return to these lotus-eaters and live with them openly? And if some help comes to the thrifty part of his soul from his household, won’t these boastful words close the gates of the royal wall within him to prevent these allies from entering and refuse even to receive the words of older private individuals as ambassadors? Doing battle and controlling things themselves, won’t they call reverence foolishness and moderation [d] cowardice, abusing them and casting them out beyond the frontiers like disenfranchised exiles? And won’t they persuade the young man that measured and orderly expenditure is boorish and mean, and, joining with many useless desires, won’t they expel it across the border?
They certainly will.
Having thus emptied and purged these from the soul of the one they’ve possessed and initiated in splendid rites, they proceed to return insolence, anarchy, extravagance, and shamelessness from exile in a blaze of torch-light, [e] wreathing them in garlands and accompanying them with a vast chorus of followers. They praise the returning exiles and give them fine names, calling insolence good breeding, anarchy freedom, extravagance magnificence, and shamelessness courage. Isn’t it in some such way as this that someone who is young changes, after being brought up with necessary desires, to the liberation and release of useless and unnecessary [561] pleasures?
Yes, that’s clearly the way it happens.
And I suppose that after that he spends as much money, effort, and time on unnecessary pleasures as on necessary ones. If he’s lucky, and his frenzy doesn’t go too far, when he grows older, and the great tumult within him has spent itself, he welcomes back some of the exiles, ceases [b] to surrender himself completely to the newcomers, and puts his pleasures on an equal footing. And so he lives, always surrendering rule over himself to whichever desire comes along, as if it were chosen by lot. And when that is satisfied, he surrenders the rule to another, not disdaining any but satisfying them all equally.
That’s right.
And he doesn’t admit any word of truth into the guardhouse, for if someone tells him that some pleasures belong to fine and good desires [c] and others to evil ones and that he must pursue and value the former and restrain and enslave the latter, he denies all this and declares that all pleasures are equal and must be valued equally.
That’s just what someone in that condition would do.
And so he lives on, yielding day by day to the desire at hand. Sometimes he drinks heavily while listening to the flute; at other times, he drinks only water and is on a diet; sometimes he goes in for physical training; [d] at other times, he’s idle and neglects everything; and sometimes he even occupies himself with what he takes to be philosophy. He often engages in politics, leaping up from his seat and saying and doing whatever comes into his mind. If he happens to admire soldiers, he’s carried in that direction, if money-makers, in that one. There’s neither order nor necessity in his life, but he calls it pleasant, free, and blessedly happy, and he follows it for as long as he lives.
[e] You’ve perfectly described the life of a man who believes in legal equality.
I also suppose that he’s a complex man, full of all sorts of characters, fine and multicolored, just like the democratic city, and that many men and women might envy his life, since it contains the most models of constitutions and ways of living.
That’s right.
Then shall we set this man beside democracy as one who is rightly [562] called democratic?
Let’s do so.
The finest constitution and the finest man remain for us to discuss, namely, tyranny and a tyrannical man.
They certainly do.
Come, then, how does tyranny come into being? It’s fairly clear that it evolves from democracy.
It is.
And doesn’t it evolve from democracy in much the same way that [b] democracy does from oligarchy?
What way is that?
The good that oligarchy puts before itself and because of which it is established is wealth, isn’t it?
Yes.
And its insatiable desire for wealth and its neglect of other things for the sake of money-making is what destroyed it, isn’t it?
That’s true.
And isn’t democracy’s insatiable desire for what it defines as the good also what destroys it?
What do you think it defines as the good?
Freedom: Surely you’d hear a democratic city say that this is the finest thing it has, so that as a result it is the only city worth living in for someone [c] who is by nature free.
Yes, you often hear that.
Then, as I was about to say, doesn’t the insatiable desire for freedom and the neglect of other things change this constitution and put it in need of a dictatorship?
In what way?
I suppose that, when a democratic city, athirst for freedom, happens to get bad cupbearers for its leaders, so that it gets drunk by drinking more than it should of the unmixed wine of freedom, then, unless the rulers are [d] very pliable and provide plenty of that freedom, they are punished by the city and accused of being accursed oligarchs.
Yes, that is what it does.
It insults those who obey the rulers as willing slaves and good-for-nothings and praises and honors, both in public and in private, rulers who behave like subjects and subjects who behave like rulers. And isn’t it inevitable that freedom should go to all lengths in such a city? [e]
Of course.
It makes its way into private households and in the end breeds anarchy even among the animals.
What do you mean?
I mean that a father accustoms himself to behave like a child and fear his sons, while the son behaves like a father, feeling neither shame nor fear in front of his parents, in order to be free. A resident alien or a foreign visitor is made equal to a citizen, and he is their equal. [563]
Yes, that is what happens.
It does. And so do other little things of the same sort. A teacher in such a community is afraid of his students and flatters them, while the students despise their teachers or tutors. And, in general, the young imitate their elders and compete with them in word and deed, while the old stoop to the level of the young and are full of play and pleasantry, imitating the young for fear of appearing disagreeable and authoritarian. [b]
Absolutely.
The utmost freedom for the majority is reached in such a city when bought slaves, both male and female, are no less free than those who bought them. And I almost forgot to mention the extent of the legal equality of men and women and of the freedom in the relations between them.
What about the animals? Are we, with Aeschylus, going to “say whatever it was that came to our lips just now” about them? [c]
Certainly. I put it this way: No one who hasn’t experienced it would believe how much freer domestic animals are in a democratic city than anywhere else. As the proverb says, dogs become like their mistresses; horses and donkeys are accustomed to roam freely and proudly along the streets, bumping into anyone who doesn’t get out of their way; and all [d] the rest are equally full of freedom.
You’re telling me what I already know. I’ve often experienced that sort of thing
while travelling in the country.
To sum up: Do you notice how all these things together make the citizens’ souls so sensitive that, if anyone even puts upon himself the least degree of slavery, they become angry and cannot endure it. And in the end, as you know, they take no notice of the laws, whether written or unwritten, [e] in order to avoid having any master at all.
I certainly do.
This, then, is the fine and impetuous origin from which tyranny seems to me to evolve.
It is certainly impetuous. But what comes next?
The same disease that developed in oligarchy and destroyed it also develops here, but it is more widespread and virulent because of the general permissiveness, and it eventually enslaves democracy. In fact, excessive action in one direction usually sets up a reaction in the opposite direction. This happens in seasons, in plants, in bodies, and, last but not [564] least, in constitutions.
That’s to be expected.
Extreme freedom can’t be expected to lead to anything but a change to extreme slavery, whether for a private individual or for a city.
No, it can’t.
Then I don’t suppose that tyranny evolves from any constitution other than democracy—the most severe and cruel slavery from the utmost freedom.
Yes, that’s reasonable.
But I don’t think that was your question. You asked what was the disease [b] that developed in oligarchy and also in democracy, enslaving it.
That’s true.
And what I had in mind as an answer was that class of idle and extravagant men, whose bravest members are leaders and the more cowardly ones followers. We compared them to stinged and stingless drones, respectively.
That’s right.
Now, these two groups cause problems in any constitution, just as phlegm and bile do in the body. And it’s against them that the good doctor [c] and lawgiver of a city must take advance precautions, first, to prevent their presence and, second, to cut them out of the hive as quickly as possible, cells and all, if they should happen to be present.
Yes, by god, he must cut them out altogether.
Then let’s take up the question in the following way, so that we can see what we want more clearly.
In what way?
Let’s divide a democratic city into three parts in theory, this being the way that it is in fact divided. One part is this class of idlers, that grows [d] here no less than in an oligarchy, because of the general permissiveness.
So it does.
But it is far fiercer in democracy than in the other.
How so?
In an oligarchy it is fierce because it’s disdained, but since it is prevented from having a share in ruling, it doesn’t get any exercise and doesn’t become vigorous. In a democracy, however, with a few exceptions, this class is the dominant one. Its fiercest members do all the talking and acting, while the rest settle near the speaker’s platform and buzz and refuse to tolerate the opposition of another speaker, so that, under a democratic constitution, with the few exceptions I referred to before, this class manages everything. [e]
That’s right.
Then there’s a second class that always distinguishes itself from the majority of people.
Which is that?
When everybody is trying to make money, those who are naturally most organized generally become the wealthiest.
Probably so.
Then they would provide the most honey for the drones and the honey that is most easily extractable by them.
Yes, for how could anyone extract it from those who have very little?
Then I suppose that these rich people are called drone-fodder.
Something like that.
The people—those who work with their own hands—are the third class. They take no part in politics and have few possessions, but, when [565] they are assembled, they are the largest and most powerful class in a democracy.
They are. But they aren’t willing to assemble often unless they get a share of the honey.
And they always do get a share, though the leaders, in taking the wealth of the rich and distributing it to the people, keep the greater part for themselves.
Yes, that is the way the people get their share. [b]
And I suppose that those whose wealth is taken away are compelled to defend themselves by speaking before the people and doing whatever else they can.
Of course.
And they’re accused by the drones of plotting against the people and of being oligarchs, even if they have no desire for revolution at all.
That’s right.
So in the end, when they see the people trying to harm them, they truly do become oligarchs and embrace oligarchy’s evils, whether they want to [c] or not. But neither group does these things willingly. Rather the people act as they do because they are ignorant and are deceived by the drones, and the rich act as they do because they are driven to it by the stinging of those same drones.
Absolutely.
And then there are impeachments, judgments, and trials on both sides.
That’s right.
Now, aren’t the people always in the habit of setting up one man as their special champion, nurturing him and making him great?
They are.
[d] And it’s clear that, when a tyrant arises, this special leadership is the sole root from which he sprouts.
It is.
What is the beginning of the transformation from leader of the people to tyrant? Isn’t it clear that it happens when the leader begins to behave like the man in the story told about the temple of the Lycean Zeus13 in Arcadia?
What story is that?
That anyone who tastes the one piece of human innards that’s chopped up with those of other sacrificial victims must inevitably become a wolf. [e] Haven’t you heard that story?
I have.
Then doesn’t the same happen with a leader of the people who dominates a docile mob and doesn’t restrain himself from spilling kindred blood? He brings someone to trial on false charges and murders him (as tyrants so often do), and, by thus blotting out a human life, his impious tongue and lips taste kindred citizen blood. He banishes some, kills others, and drops hints to the people about the cancellation of debts and the redistribution [566] of land. And because of these things, isn’t a man like that inevitably fated either to be killed by his enemies or to be transformed from a man into a wolf by becoming a tyrant?
It’s completely inevitable.
He’s the one who stirs up civil wars against the rich.
He is.
And if he’s exiled but manages, despite his enemies, to return, doesn’t he come back as a full-fledged tyrant?
Clearly.
And if these enemies are unable to expel him or to put him to death by [b] accusing him before the city, they plot secretly to kill him.
That’s usually what happens at least.
And all who’ve reached this stage soon discover the famous request of the tyrant, namely, that the people give him a bodyguard to keep their defender safe for them.
That’s right.
And the people give it to him, I suppose, because they are afraid for his safety but aren’t worried at all about their own.
[c] That’s right.
And when a wealthy man sees this and is charged with being an enemy of the people because of his wealth, then, as the oracle to Croesus put it, he
Flees to the banks of the many-pebbled Hermus,
Neither staying put nor being ashamed of his cowardice.
He wouldn’t get a second chance of being ashamed.
That’s true, for if he was caught, he’d be executed.
He most certainly would.
But, as for the leader, he doesn’t lie on the ground “mighty in his might,”14 but, having brought down many others, he stands in the city’s chariot, a complete tyrant rather than a leader. [d]
What else?
Then let’s describe the happiness of this man and of the city in which a mortal like him
comes to be.
Certainly, let’s do so.
During the first days of his reign and for some time after, won’t he smile in welcome at anyone he meets, saying that he’s no tyrant, making all sorts of promises both in public and in private, freeing the people from debt, redistributing the land to them and to his followers, and pretending [e] to be gracious and gentle to all?
He’d have to.
But I suppose that, when he has dealt with his exiled enemies by making peace with some and destroying others, so that all is quiet on that front, the first thing he does is to stir up a war, so that the people will continue to feel the need of a leader.
Probably so.
But also so that they’ll become poor through having to pay war taxes, for that way they’ll have to concern themselves with their daily needs and [567] be less likely to plot against him.
Clearly.
Besides, if he suspects some people of having thoughts of freedom and of not favoring his rule, can’t he find a pretext for putting them at the mercy of the enemy in order to destroy them? And for all these reasons, isn’t it necessary for a tyrant to be always stirring up war?
It is.
And because of this, isn’t he all the more readily hated by the citizens? [b]
Of course.
Moreover, don’t the bravest of those who helped to establish his tyranny and who hold positions of power within it speak freely to each other and to him, criticizing what’s happening?
They probably do.
Then the tyrant will have to do away with all of them if he intends to rule, until he’s left with neither friend nor enemy of any worth.
Clearly.
He must, therefore, keep a sharp lookout for anyone who is brave, large-minded, knowledgeable, or rich. And so happy is he that he must be the [c] enemy of them all, whether he wants to be or not, and plot against them until he has purged them from the city.
That’s a fine sort of purge!
Yes, for it’s the opposite of the one that doctors perform on the body. They draw off the worst and leave the best, but he does just the opposite.
Yet I expect he’ll have to do this, if he’s really going to rule.
[d] It’s a blessedly happy necessity he’s bound by, since it requires him either to live with the inferior majority, even though they hate him, or not to live at all.