undertaken by the philosopher. As the allegory explains, the ultimate goal of philosophy is in fact apprehension of the idea of the good, which is the source of “goodness” in all other things. Yet philosophy’s arduous “upward” journey to the apprehension of “true being” is not for everyone. Only those few with the talent, training, and discipline that permit “knowledge” of the idea of the good will correctly estimate what is good in the phenomenal world. They alone, according to Socrates, should be allowed to have political power.
The alternatives to the rule of philosophers are four dysfunctional constitutions, which Socrates describes and ranks in book 8, moving from the least problematic (“timarchy,” oligarchy) to the most defective (democracy, tyranny). These constitutions supply bases for identifying and analyzing the personalities of four types of individuals, who yield to the lesser elements in the soul. Their yielding to the inferior elements is contrasted with the rule of reason in the soul of the “kingly” or “aristocratic” just man, and is accordingly found to be the source of psychic dysfunction and misery. Thus Socrates, Glaucon, and Adeimantus not only establish the inviolable happiness of the just man, who is all but explicitly identified with the philosopher, but they also bring into full view (in book 9) the utterly wretched and enslaved condition of the tyrant, whose freedom and happiness Thrasymachus had celebrated in book 1. Moreover, the close association of democracy with tyranny at the end of book 8 caps the dialogue’s exposé of democracy’s errors and inadequacies.
With Glaucon’s and Adeimantus’ challenge thus met, Socrates reaffirms in book 10 the propriety of the ideal state’s careful censorship of poetic texts and, adding to the arguments presented in books 2 and 3, he suggests that adults as well as children should be shielded from poetry’s seductive yet dangerous charms. As Glaucon and Adeimantus rescind the cynical vision they had conjured for the sake of argument at the beginning of book 2, Socrates details how justice does in fact bear rewards in life. He thereupon draws the discussion to a close by relating a myth that describes the even greater rewards for the just—and the extreme punishments of the unjust—in the afterlife. The myth also reasserts the abiding importance of reason and philosophy for souls who, after a thousand-year absence, are about to choose their next lives in this world.
Republic covers many topics, as Socrates concedes at the beginning of book 6, (6.484a), and its exploration of justice’s relationship to happiness takes a circuitous route. The dialogue’s composition, however, is hardly haphazard. The preliminary conversation in book 1, though unsatisfactory, not only raises the issues that will be addressed in the rest of the work, but it also anticipates, through a variety of means, key formulations and points that Socrates will make in later books. Indeed, almost every detail in book 1 looks ahead to later developments; let us note here just a few examples of how this is so.
In his exchanges with Polemarchus and Thrasymachus, Socrates repeatedly compares the just individual/ruler to professionals with technical expertise and knowledge, such as doctors, musicians, and ships’ pilots. These analogies may strike readers as bizarre if not nonsensical; they pave the way, however, for the definition of justice as the rule of the soul’s rational element, and thus for the crucial associations of justice with expert knowledge—and of the philosopher with the just man. So, too, does the simple observation that each thing has a particular function (1.352e-353a) presage the definition of justice as “doing one’s own work.”
In addition, Socrates ultimately affirms that it is fair to conceive of justice as “giving what is due” and also as “the interest (or advantage) of the stronger,” although he does so by
The alternatives to the rule of philosophers are four dysfunctional constitutions, which Socrates describes and ranks in book 8, moving from the least problematic (“timarchy,” oligarchy) to the most defective (democracy, tyranny). These constitutions supply bases for identifying and analyzing the personalities of four types of individuals, who yield to the lesser elements in the soul. Their yielding to the inferior elements is contrasted with the rule of reason in the soul of the “kingly” or “aristocratic” just man, and is accordingly found to be the source of psychic dysfunction and misery. Thus Socrates, Glaucon, and Adeimantus not only establish the inviolable happiness of the just man, who is all but explicitly identified with the philosopher, but they also bring into full view (in book 9) the utterly wretched and enslaved condition of the tyrant, whose freedom and happiness Thrasymachus had celebrated in book 1. Moreover, the close association of democracy with tyranny at the end of book 8 caps the dialogue’s exposé of democracy’s errors and inadequacies.
With Glaucon’s and Adeimantus’ challenge thus met, Socrates reaffirms in book 10 the propriety of the ideal state’s careful censorship of poetic texts and, adding to the arguments presented in books 2 and 3, he suggests that adults as well as children should be shielded from poetry’s seductive yet dangerous charms. As Glaucon and Adeimantus rescind the cynical vision they had conjured for the sake of argument at the beginning of book 2, Socrates details how justice does in fact bear rewards in life. He thereupon draws the discussion to a close by relating a myth that describes the even greater rewards for the just—and the extreme punishments of the unjust—in the afterlife. The myth also reasserts the abiding importance of reason and philosophy for souls who, after a thousand-year absence, are about to choose their next lives in this world.
Republic covers many topics, as Socrates concedes at the beginning of book 6, (6.484a), and its exploration of justice’s relationship to happiness takes a circuitous route. The dialogue’s composition, however, is hardly haphazard. The preliminary conversation in book 1, though unsatisfactory, not only raises the issues that will be addressed in the rest of the work, but it also anticipates, through a variety of means, key formulations and points that Socrates will make in later books. Indeed, almost every detail in book 1 looks ahead to later developments; let us note here just a few examples of how this is so.
In his exchanges with Polemarchus and Thrasymachus, Socrates repeatedly compares the just individual/ruler to professionals with technical expertise and knowledge, such as doctors, musicians, and ships’ pilots. These analogies may strike readers as bizarre if not nonsensical; they pave the way, however, for the definition of justice as the rule of the soul’s rational element, and thus for the crucial associations of justice with expert knowledge—and of the philosopher with the just man. So, too, does the simple observation that each thing has a particular function (1.352e-353a) presage the definition of justice as “doing one’s own work.”
In addition, Socrates ultimately affirms that it is fair to conceive of justice as “giving what is due” and also as “the interest (or advantage) of the stronger,” although he does so by
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