Complete Works

by Plato, Cooper, John M. , Hutchinson, D. S.

  ATHENIAN: Admirable, Clinias! Well then, here’s a related point that the three of us should consider.

  CLINIAS: What’s that?

  ATHENIAN: That all the rules we are now working through are what [b] people generally call ‘unwritten customs’, and all this sort of thing is precisely what they mean when they speak of ‘ancestral law’. Not only that, but the conclusion to which we were driven a moment ago was the right one: that although ‘laws’ is the wrong term for these things, we can’t afford to say nothing about them, because they are the bonds of the entire social framework, linking all written and established laws with those yet to be passed. They act in the same way as ancestral customs dating from time immemorial, which by virtue of being soundly established and instinctively [c] observed, shield and protect existing written law. But if they go wrong and get ‘out of true’—well, you know what happens when carpenters’ props buckle in a house: they bring the whole building crashing down, one thing on top of another, stays and superstructure (however well built) alike—all because the original timberwork has given way. So you see, Clinias, this is what we have to bear in mind in thoroughly binding your state together while it is still a new foundation; we must do our best [d] not to omit anything, great or small, whether ‘laws’, ‘habits’ or ‘institutions’, because they are all needed to bind a state together, and the permanence of the one kind of norm depends on that of the other. So we ought not to be surprised to see a flood of apparently unimportant customs or usages making our legal code a bit on the long side.

  CLINIAS: You’re quite right, and we’ll keep the point in mind.

  ATHENIAN: Up to the age of three the early training of a boy or girl will [e] be helped enormously by this regimen, provided it is observed punctiliously and systematically. In the fourth, fifth, sixth and even seventh year of life, a child’s character will need to be formed while he plays; we should now stop spoiling him, and resort to discipline, but not such as to humiliate him. We said, in the case of slaves,4 that discipline should not be enforced so high-handedly that they become resentful, though on the other hand we mustn’t spoil them by letting them go uncorrected; the same rule [794] should apply to free persons too. When children are brought together, they discover more or less spontaneously the games which come naturally to them at that age. As soon as they are three, and until they reach the age of six, all children must congregate at the village temples—the children of each village to assemble at the same place. They should be kept in order and restrained from bad behavior by their nurses, who should themselves be supervised, along with their groups as a whole, by the twelve women [b] elected for the purpose, one to be in charge of one group for a year at a time, the allocations to be made by the Guardians of the Law. The twelve must be elected by the women in charge of supervising marriage, one must be chosen from each tribe, and they must be of the same age as their electors. The woman allotted to a given tribe will discharge her duties by visiting the temple daily and punishing any cases of wrongdoing. She may use a number of state slaves to deal with male and female slaves and aliens on her own authority; however, if a citizen disputes his punishment, [c] she must take the case to the City-Wardens, but if he does not dispute it, she may punish him too on her own authority. When the boys and girls have reached the age of six, the sexes should be separated; boys should spend their days with boys, and girls with girls. Each should attend lessons. The males should go to teachers of riding, archery, javelin-throwing and [d] slinging—and the females too, if they are agreeable, may attend at any rate the lessons, especially those in the use of weapons. In this business, you see, pretty nearly everyone misunderstands the current practice.

  CLINIAS: How so?

  ATHENIAN: People think that where the hands are concerned right and left are by nature suited for different specialized tasks—whereas of course in the case of the feet and the lower limbs there is obviously no difference in efficiency at all. Thanks to the silly ideas of nurses and mothers we’ve [e] all been made lame-handed, so to speak. The natural potential of each arm is just about the same, and the difference between them is our own fault, because we’ve habitually misused them. Of course, in activities of no consequence—using the left hand for the lyre and the right for the plectrum and so on—it doesn’t matter in the slightest. But to take these examples as a model for other activities too, when there’s no need, is pretty stupid. [795] The Scythian practice is an illustration of this: a Scythian doesn’t use his left hand exclusively to draw his bow and his right hand exclusively to fit in the arrow, but uses both hands for both jobs indifferently. There are a lot of other similar examples to be found—in driving chariots, for instance, and other activities—from which we can see that when people train the left hand to be weaker than the right they are going against nature. As we said, that doesn’t matter when it’s a case of plectra of horn and similar [b] instruments. But it matters enormously when one has to use iron weapons of war (javelins, arrows or whatever), and it matters most of all when you have to use your weapons in fighting hand to hand. And what a difference there is between a man who has learned this lesson and one who has not, between the trained and the untrained fighter! You know how a trained pancratiast or boxer or wrestler can fight on his left, so that when his opponent makes him change over and fight on that side, he doesn’t stagger round as though he were lame, but keeps his poise. And I reckon we have [c] to suppose that precisely the same rule applies to the use of weapons and to all other activities: when a man has two sets of limbs for attack and defense, he ought to leave neither of them idle and untrained if he can help it. In fact, if you were born with the body of a Geryon or a Briareus, you ought to be able to throw a hundred shafts with your hundred hands. [d] All these points should come under the supervision of the male and female officials, the latter keeping an eye on the training the children get at play, the former superintending their lessons. They must see that every boy and girl grows up versatile in the use of both hands and both feet, so that they don’t ruin their natural abilities by their acquired habits, so far as they can be prevented.

  In practice, formal lessons will fall into two categories, physical training for the body, and cultural education to perfect the personality. Physical [e] training can be further subdivided into two branches: dancing and wrestling. Now when people dance, they are either acting the words of the composer, and a dignified and civilized style is their prime concern, or they are aiming at physical fitness, agility and beauty. In this case they are preoccupied with bending and stretching in the approved fashion, so that each limb and other part of the body can move with its own peculiar grace—a grace which is then carried over and infused into dancing in [796] general. As for wrestling, the kind of trick introduced as part of their technique by Antaeus and Cercyon because of their wretched obsession with winning, and the boxing devices invented by Epeius and Amycus, are absolutely useless in a military encounter and don’t merit the honor of being described.5 But if the legitimate maneuvers of regular wrestling—extricating the neck and hands and sides from entanglement—are practiced for the sake of strength and health with a vigorous desire to win and without resort to undignified postures, then they are extremely useful, [b] and we mustn’t neglect them. So when we reach the proper place in our legal code we must tell the future teachers to present all this kind of instruction in an attractive way, and the pupils to receive it with gratitude. Nor should we omit to mention the chorus-performances that may appropriately be imitated: for instance, here in Crete the ‘games in armor’ of the Curetes,6 and those of the Dioscuri7 in Sparta. And at Athens our Virgin Lady,8 I believe, charmed by the pleasure of performing in a chorus, and disapproving of empty hands in recreation, thought she should perform [c] the dance only when arrayed in full armor. Our boys and girls should imitate her example wholeheartedly, and prize the gift which the goddess has made them, because it increases their fighting skill and embellishes their festivals. Young boys, right from the early stages up to the age of m
ilitary service, should be equipped with weapons and horses whenever they parade and process in honor of any god; and when they supplicate the gods and sons of gods they must dance and march in step, sometimes briskly, sometimes slowly. Even contests and preliminary heats, if they [d] are to prove their worth in war and peace to the state and private households, must be conducted with these purposes in view and no other. Other kinds of physical exercise, Megillus and Clinias, whether serious or by way of recreation, are beneath the dignity of a gentleman.

  I’ve now pretty well described the sort of physical education which needed to be described, as I said early on.9 So there it is, in all its detail. If you know of a better system than that, let’s have it. [e]

  CLINIAS: No sir, if we cry off these ideas of yours a better program of competitions and physical training won’t be easy to find.

  ATHENIAN: The next subject is the gifts of Apollo and the Muses. When we discussed this before,10 we thought we’d exhausted the topic, and that physical training alone remained for discussion. But it’s clear now that a number of points were omitted—points which everyone ought in fact to hear first. So let’s go through them in order.

  CLINIAS: Yes, they should certainly be mentioned.

  ATHENIAN: Listen to me then. You’ve done that before, of course, but [797] such a curious eccentricity calls for extreme caution in the speaker and his audience. You see, I’m going to spin a line that almost makes me afraid to open my mouth; still, I’ll pluck up my courage and go ahead.

  CLINIAS: What is this thesis of yours, sir?

  ATHENIAN: I maintain that no one in any state has really grasped that children’s games affect legislation so crucially as to determine whether the laws that are passed will survive or not. If you control the way children play, and the same children always play the same games under the same [b] rules and in the same conditions, and get pleasure from the same toys, you’ll find that the conventions of adult life too are left in peace without alteration. But in fact games are always being changed and constantly modified and new ones invented, and the younger generation never enthuses over the same thing for two days running. They have no permanent agreed standard of what is becoming or unbecoming either in deportment [c] or their possessions in general; they worship anyone who is always introducing some novelty or doing something unconventional to shapes and colors and all that sort of thing. In fact, it’s no exaggeration to say that this fellow is the biggest menace that can ever afflict a state, because he quietly changes the character of the young by making them despise old things and value novelty. That kind of language and that kind of outlook is—again I say it—the biggest disaster any state can suffer. Listen: I’ll tell you just how big an evil I maintain it is.

  [d] CLINIAS: You mean the way the public grumbles at old-fashioned ways of doing things?

  ATHENIAN: Exactly.

  CLINIAS: Well, you won’t find us shutting our ears to that kind of argument—you couldn’t have a more sympathetic audience.

  ATHENIAN: So I should imagine.

  CLINIAS: Go on then.

  ATHENIAN: Well now, let’s listen to the argument with even greater attention than usual, and expound it to each other with equal care. Change, we shall find, except in something evil, is extremely dangerous. This is true of seasons and winds, the regimen of the body and the character of [e] the soul—in short, of everything without exception (unless, as I said just now, the change affects something evil). Take as an example the way the body gets used to all sorts of food and drink and exercise. At first they upset it, but then in the course of time it’s this very regimen that is responsible for its putting on flesh. Then the regimen and the flesh form [798] a kind of partnership, so that the body grows used to this congenial and familiar system, and lives a life of perfect happiness and health. But imagine someone forced to change again to one of the other recommended systems: initially, he’s troubled by illnesses, and only slowly, by getting used to his new way of life, does he get back to normal. Well, we must suppose that precisely the same thing happens to a man’s outlook and personality. [b] When the laws under which people are brought up have by some heaven-sent good fortune remained unchanged over a very long period, so that no one remembers or has heard of things ever being any different, the soul is filled with such respect for tradition that it shrinks from meddling with it in any way. Somehow or other the legislator must find a method of bringing about this situation in the state. Now here’s my own solution of the problem. All legislators suppose that an alteration to children’s [c] games really is just a ‘game’, as I said before, which leads to no serious or genuine damage. Consequently, so far from preventing change, they feebly give it their blessing. They don’t appreciate that if children introduce novelties into their games, they’ll inevitably turn out to be quite different people from the previous generation; being different, they’ll demand a different kind of life, and that will then make them want new institutions and laws. The next stage is what we described just now as the biggest evil that can affect a state—but not a single legislator takes fright at the prospect. Other changes, that affect only deportment, will do less harm, but it is a [d] very serious matter indeed to keep changing the criteria for praising or censuring a man’s moral character, and we must take great care to avoid doing so.

  CLINIAS: Of course.

  ATHENIAN: Well then, are we still happy about the line we took earlier, when we said that rhythms and music in general were means of representing the characters of good men and bad? Or what? [e]

  CLINIAS: Yes, our view remains exactly the same.

  ATHENIAN: So our position is this: we must do everything we possibly can to distract the younger generation from wanting to try their hand at presenting new subjects, either in dance or song; and we must also stop pleasure-mongers seducing them into the attempt.

  CLINIAS: You’re absolutely right.

  ATHENIAN: Now, does any of us know of a better method of achieving [799] such an object than that of the Egyptians?

  CLINIAS: What method is that?

  ATHENIAN: To sanctify all our dances and music. The first job will be to settle the festivals by drawing up the year’s program, which should show the dates of the various holidays and the individual gods, children of gods, or spirits in whose honor they should be taken. Second, it has to be decided what hymn should be sung at the various sacrifices to the gods and the type of dancing that should dignify the ritual in question. These decisions [b] should be taken by some authority or other, and then the whole body of the citizens together should ratify them by sacrificing to the Fates and all the other gods, and by pouring a libation to consecrate the various songs to their respective divinities and other powers.

  22. If anybody disobeys and introduces any different hymns or dances in honor of any god,

  the priests and priestesses, in association with the Guardians of the Laws, will have the backing of sacred and secular law in expelling him.

  23. If he resists expulsion,

  he must be liable to a charge of impiety for the rest of his life at the hands of anyone who wishes to bring it.

  CLINIAS: And serve him right.

  ATHENIAN: Now seeing that we’ve got on to this topic, we must watch [c] our step and behave ourselves.

  CLINIAS: How do you mean?

  ATHENIAN: No young man, much less an old one, on seeing or hearing anything paradoxical or unfamiliar, is ever going to brush aside his doubts all in a hurry and reach a snap decision about it. More probably, like a [d] traveler who has come to a crossroads, alone or with others, and is rather uncertain about the right road, he’ll pause, and put the problem to himself or his companions; and he won’t continue his journey until he’s pretty sure of his direction and bearings. That’s precisely what we must do now. Our discussion has led us to a legal paradox, and naturally we must go into it in details and not—at our age—rashly claim to pontificate in such an important field off the cuff.

  CLINIAS: You’re absolutely right.

/>   [e] ATHENIAN: So we won’t hurry over the problem, and only when we’ve looked into it properly shall we draw any firm conclusions. Still, there’s no point in being deterred from completing the formal presentation of these ‘laws’ we’re dealing with now, so let’s press on till we get to the end of them. God willing, the completion of the whole exposition may perhaps point to an adequate solution of our present problem.

  CLINIAS: You’ve put it very well, sir; let’s do as you say.

  ATHENIAN: So let’s assume we’ve agreed on the paradox: our songs have turned into ‘nomes’ (apparently the ancients gave some such name to [800] tunes on the lyre—perhaps they had some inkling of what we’re saying, thanks to the intuition of someone who saw a vision either in his sleep or while awake). However that may be, let’s adopt this as our agreed policy: no one shall sing a note, or perform any dance-movement, other than those in the canon of public songs, sacred music, and the general body of chorus performances of the young—any more than he would violate any other ‘nome’ or law. If a man obeys, he shall go unmolested by the law; but if he disobeys, the Guardians of the Laws and the priests and priestesses must punish him, as we said just now. Can we accept this as a statement [b] of policy?

  CLINIAS: We can.

  ATHENIAN: Then how could one put these rules in proper legal form, without being laughed to scorn? Well now, there’s a new point we ought to notice: in this business, the safest method is to sketch a few model rules. Here’s one for you: imagine a sacrifice has been performed and the offerings [c] burnt as demanded by law and someone standing in a private capacity near the altar and offerings—a son or brother, say—breaks out into the most extreme blasphemy: wouldn’t his words fill his father and his other relations with alarm and despondency and forebodings of despair? Isn’t that what we’d expect?