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Plato, Apology

Via

http://classics.mit.edu/Plato/apology.html

(trans. Jowett)

Socrates' Defense

How you have felt, O men of Athens, at hearing the speeches of my accusers, I cannot tell; but I

know that their persuasive words almost made me forget who I was - such was the effect of

them; and yet they have hardly spoken a word of truth. But many as their falsehoods were, there

was one of them which quite amazed me; - I mean when they told you to be upon your guard,

and not to let yourselves be deceived by the force of my eloquence. They ought to have been

ashamed of saying this, because they were sure to be detected as soon as I opened my lips and

displayed my deficiency; they certainly did appear to be most shameless in saying this, unless by

the force of eloquence they mean the force of truth; for then I do indeed admit that I am eloquent.

But in how different a way from theirs! Well, as I was saying, they have hardly uttered a word,

or not more than a word, of truth; but you shall hear from me the whole truth: not, however,

delivered after their manner, in a set oration duly ornamented with words and phrases. No

indeed! but I shall use the words and arguments which occur to me at the moment; for I am

certain that this is right, and that at my time of life I ought not to be appearing before you, O men

of Athens, in the character of a juvenile orator - let no one expect this of me. And I must beg of

you to grant me one favor, which is this - If you hear me using the same words in my defence

which I have been in the habit of using, and which most of you may have heard in the agora, and

at the tables of the money-changers, or anywhere else, I would ask you not to be surprised at this,

and not to interrupt me. For I am more than seventy years of age, and this is the first time that I

have ever appeared in a court of law, and I am quite a stranger to the ways of the place; and

therefore I would have you regard me as if I were really a stranger, whom you would excuse if

he spoke in his native tongue, and after the fashion of his country; - that I think is not an unfair

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request. Never mind the manner, which may or may not be good; but think only of the justice of

my cause, and give heed to that: let the judge decide justly and the speaker speak truly.

And first, I have to reply to the older charges and to my first accusers, and then I will go to the

later ones. For I have had many accusers, who accused me of old, and their false charges have

continued during many years; and I am more afraid of them than of Anytus and his associates,

who are dangerous, too, in their own way. But far more dangerous are these, who began when

you were children, and took possession of your minds with their falsehoods, telling of one

Socrates, a wise man, who speculated about the heaven above, and searched into the earth

beneath, and made the worse appear the better cause. These are the accusers whom I dread; for

they are the circulators of this rumor, and their hearers are too apt to fancy that speculators of

this sort do not believe in the gods. And they are many, and their charges against me are of

ancient date, and they made them in days when you were impressible - in childhood, or perhaps

in youth - and the cause when heard went by default, for there was none to answer. And, hardest

of all, their names I do not know and cannot tell; unless in the chance of a comic poet. But the

main body of these slanderers who from envy and malice have wrought upon you - and there are

some of them who are convinced themselves, and impart their convictions to others - all these, I

say, are most difficult to deal with; for I cannot have them up here, and examine them, and

therefore I must simply fight with shadows in my own defence, and examine when there is no

one who answers. I will ask you then to assume with me, as I was saying, that my opponents are

of two kinds - one recent, the other ancient; and I hope that you will see the propriety of my

answering the latter first, for these accusations you heard long before the others, and much

oftener.

Well, then, I will make my defence, and I will endeavor in the short time which is allowed to do

away with this evil opinion of me which you have held for such a long time; and I hope I may

succeed, if this be well for you and me, and that my words may find favor with you. But I know

that to accomplish this is not easy - I quite see the nature of the task. Let the event be as God

wills: in obedience to the law I make my defence.

I will begin at the beginning, and ask what the accusation is which has given rise to this slander

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of me, and which has encouraged Meletus to proceed against me. What do the slanderers say?

They shall be my prosecutors, and I will sum up their words in an affidavit. "Socrates is an evil-

doer, and a curious person, who searches into things under the earth and in heaven, and he makes

the worse appear the better cause; and he teaches the aforesaid doctrines to others." That is the

nature of the accusation, and that is what you have seen yourselves in the comedy of

Aristophanes; who has introduced a man whom he calls Socrates, going about and saying that he

can walk in the air, and talking a deal of nonsense concerning matters of which I do not pretend

to know either much or little - not that I mean to say anything disparaging of anyone who is a

student of natural philosophy. I should be very sorry if Meletus could lay that to my charge. But

the simple truth is, O Athenians, that I have nothing to do with these studies. Very many of those

here present are witnesses to the truth of this, and to them I appeal. Speak then, you who have

heard me, and tell your neighbors whether any of you have ever known me hold forth in few

words or in many upon matters of this sort. ... You hear their answer. And from what they say of

this you will be able to judge of the truth of the rest.

As little foundation is there for the report that I am a teacher, and take money; that is no more

true than the other. Although, if a man is able to teach, I honor him for being paid. There is

Gorgias of Leontium, and Prodicus of Ceos, and Hippias of Elis, who go the round of the cities,

and are able to persuade the young men to leave their own citizens, by whom they might be

taught for nothing, and come to them, whom they not only pay, but are thankful if they may be

allowed to pay them. There is actually a Parian philosopher residing in Athens, of whom I have

heard; and I came to hear of him in this way: - I met a man who has spent a world of money on

the Sophists, Callias the son of Hipponicus, and knowing that he had sons, I asked him:

"Callias," I said, "if your two sons were foals or calves, there would be no difficulty in finding

someone to put over them; we should hire a trainer of horses or a farmer probably who would

improve and perfect them in their own proper virtue and excellence; but as they are human

beings, whom are you thinking of placing over them? Is there anyone who understands human

and political virtue? You must have thought about this as you have sons; is there anyone?"

"There is," he said. "Who is he?" said I, "and of what country? and what does he charge?"

"Evenus the Parian," he replied; "he is the man, and his charge is five minae." Happy is Evenus, I

said to myself, if he really has this wisdom, and teaches at such a modest charge. Had I the same,

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I should have been very proud and conceited; but the truth is that I have no knowledge of the

kind.

I dare say, Athenians, that someone among you will reply, "Why is this, Socrates, and what is the

origin of these accusations of you: for there must have been something strange which you have

been doing? All this great fame and talk about you would never have arisen if you had been like

other men: tell us, then, why this is, as we should be sorry to judge hastily of you." Now I regard

this as a fair challenge, and I will endeavor to explain to you the origin of this name of "wise,"

and of this evil fame. Please to attend then. And although some of you may think I am joking, I

declare that I will tell you the entire truth. Men of Athens, this reputation of mine has come of a

certain sort of wisdom which I possess. If you ask me what kind of wisdom, I reply, such

wisdom as is attainable by man, for to that extent I am inclined to believe that I am wise;

whereas the persons of whom I was speaking have a superhuman wisdom, which I may fail to

describe, because I have it not myself; and he who says that I have, speaks falsely, and is taking

away my character. And here, O men of Athens, I must beg you not to interrupt me, even if I

seem to say something extravagant. For the word which I will speak is not mine. I will refer you

to a witness who is worthy of credit, and will tell you about my wisdom - whether I have any,

and of what sort - and that witness shall be the god of Delphi. You must have known

Chaerephon; he was early a friend of mine, and also a friend of yours, for he shared in the exile

of the people, and returned with you. Well, Chaerephon, as you know, was very impetuous in all

his doings, and he went to Delphi and boldly asked the oracle to tell him whether - as I was

saying, I must beg you not to interrupt - he asked the oracle to tell him whether there was anyone

wiser than I was, and the Pythian prophetess answered that there was no man wiser. Chaerephon

is dead himself, but his brother, who is in court, will confirm the truth of this story.

Why do I mention this? Because I am going to explain to you why I have such an evil name.

When I heard the answer, I said to myself, What can the god mean? and what is the interpretation

of this riddle? for I know that I have no wisdom, small or great. What can he mean when he says

that I am the wisest of men? And yet he is a god and cannot lie; that would be against his nature.

After a long consideration, I at last thought of a method of trying the question. I reflected that if I

could only find a man wiser than myself, then I might go to the god with a refutation in my hand.

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I should say to him, "Here is a man who is wiser than I am; but you said that I was the wisest."

Accordingly I went to one who had the reputation of wisdom, and observed to him - his name I

need not mention; he was a politician whom I selected for examination - and the result was as

follows: When I began to talk with him, I could not help thinking that he was not really wise,

although he was thought wise by many, and wiser still by himself; and I went and tried to explain

to him that he thought himself wise, but was not really wise; and the consequence was that he

hated me, and his enmity was shared by several who were present and heard me. So I left him,

saying to myself, as I went away: Well, although I do not suppose that either of us knows

anything really beautiful and good, I am better off than he is - for he knows nothing, and thinks

that he knows. I neither know nor think that I know. In this latter particular, then, I seem to have

slightly the advantage of him. Then I went to another, who had still higher philosophical

pretensions, and my conclusion was exactly the same. I made another enemy of him, and of

many others besides him.

After this I went to one man after another, being not unconscious of the enmity which I

provoked, and I lamented and feared this: but necessity was laid upon me - the word of God, I

thought, ought to be considered first. And I said to myself, Go I must to all who appear to know,

and find out the meaning of the oracle. And I swear to you, Athenians, by the dog I swear! - for I

must tell you the truth - the result of my mission was just this: I found that the men most in

repute were all but the most foolish; and that some inferior men were really wiser and better. I

will tell you the tale of my wanderings and of the "Herculean" labors, as I may call them, which I

endured only to find at last the oracle irrefutable. When I left the politicians, I went to the poets;

tragic, dithyrambic, and all sorts. And there, I said to myself, you will be detected; now you will

find out that you are more ignorant than they are. Accordingly, I took them some of the most

elaborate passages in their own writings, and asked what was the meaning of them - thinking that

they would teach me something. Will you believe me? I am almost ashamed to speak of this, but

still I must say that there is hardly a person present who would not have talked better about their

poetry than they did themselves. That showed me in an instant that not by wisdom do poets write

poetry, but by a sort of genius and inspiration; they are like diviners or soothsayers who also say

many fine things, but do not understand the meaning of them. And the poets appeared to me to

be much in the same case; and I further observed that upon the strength of their poetry they

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believed themselves to be the wisest of men in other things in which they were not wise. So I

departed, conceiving myself to be superior to them for the same reason that I was superior to the

politicians.

At last I went to the artisans, for I was conscious that I knew nothing at all, as I may say, and I

was sure that they knew many fine things; and in this I was not mistaken, for they did know

many things of which I was ignorant, and in this they certainly were wiser than I was. But I

observed that even the good artisans fell into the same error as the poets; because they were good

workmen they thought that they also knew all sorts of high matters, and this defect in them

overshadowed their wisdom - therefore I asked myself on behalf of the oracle, whether I would

like to be as I was, neither having their knowledge nor their ignorance, or like them in both; and I

made answer to myself and the oracle that I was better off as I was.

This investigation has led to my having many enemies of the worst and most dangerous kind,

and has given occasion also to many calumnies, and I am called wise, for my hearers always

imagine that I myself possess the wisdom which I find wanting in others: but the truth is, O men

of Athens, that God only is wise; and in this oracle he means to say that the wisdom of men is

little or nothing; he is not speaking of Socrates, he is only using my name as an illustration, as if

he said, He, O men, is the wisest, who, like Socrates, knows that his wisdom is in truth worth

nothing. And so I go my way, obedient to the god, and make inquisition into the wisdom of

anyone, whether citizen or stranger, who appears to be wise; and if he is not wise, then in

vindication of the oracle I show him that he is not wise; and this occupation quite absorbs me,

and I have no time to give either to any public matter of interest or to any concern of my own,

but I am in utter poverty by reason of my devotion to the god.

There is another thing: - young men of the richer classes, who have not much to do, come about

me of their own accord; they like to hear the pretenders examined, and they often imitate me, and

examine others themselves; there are plenty of persons, as they soon enough discover, who think

that they know something, but really know little or nothing: and then those who are examined by

them instead of being angry with themselves are angry with me: This confounded Socrates, they

say; this villainous misleader of youth! - and then if somebody asks them, Why, what evil does

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he practise or teach? they do not know, and cannot tell; but in order that they may not appear to

be at a loss, they repeat the ready-made charges which are used against all philosophers about

teaching things up in the clouds and under the earth, and having no gods, and making the worse

appear the better cause; for they do not like to confess that their pretence of knowledge has been

detected - which is the truth: and as they are numerous and ambitious and energetic, and are all

in battle array and have persuasive tongues, they have filled your ears with their loud and

inveterate calumnies. And this is the reason why my three accusers, Meletus and Anytus and

Lycon, have set upon me; Meletus, who has a quarrel with me on behalf of the poets; Anytus, on

behalf of the craftsmen; Lycon, on behalf of the rhetoricians: and as I said at the beginning, I

cannot expect to get rid of this mass of calumny all in a moment. And this, O men of Athens, is

the truth and the whole truth; I have concealed nothing, I have dissembled nothing. And yet I

know that this plainness of speech makes them hate me, and what is their hatred but a proof that I

am speaking the truth? - this is the occasion and reason of their slander of me, as you will find

out either in this or in any future inquiry.

I have said enough in my defence against the first class of my accusers; I turn to the second class,

who are headed by Meletus, that good and patriotic man, as he calls himself. And now I will try

to defend myself against them: these new accusers must also have their affidavit read. What do

they say? Something of this sort: - That Socrates is a doer of evil, and corrupter of the youth, and

he does not believe in the gods of the state, and has other new divinities of his own. That is the

sort of charge; and now let us examine the particular counts. He says that I am a doer of evil,

who corrupt the youth; but I say, O men of Athens, that Meletus is a doer of evil, and the evil is

that he makes a joke of a serious matter, and is too ready at bringing other men to trial from a

pretended zeal and interest about matters in which he really never had the smallest interest. And

the truth of this I will endeavor to prove.

Come hither, Meletus, and let me ask a question of you. You think a great deal about the

improvement of youth?

Yes, I do.

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Tell the judges, then, who is their improver; for you must know, as you have taken the pains to

discover their corrupter, and are citing and accusing me before them. Speak, then, and tell the

judges who their improver is. Observe, Meletus, that you are silent, and have nothing to say. But

is not this rather disgraceful, and a very considerable proof of what I was saying, that you have

no interest in the matter? Speak up, friend, and tell us who their improver is.

The laws.

But that, my good sir, is not my meaning. I want to know who the person is, who, in the first

place, knows the laws.

The judges, Socrates, who are present in court.

What do you mean to say, Meletus, that they are able to instruct and improve youth?

Certainly they are.

What, all of them, or some only and not others?

All of them.

By the goddess Here, that is good news! There are plenty of improvers, then. And what do you

say of the audience, - do they improve them?

Yes, they do.

And the senators?

Yes, the senators improve them.

But perhaps the members of the citizen assembly corrupt them? - or do they too improve them?

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They improve them.

Then every Athenian improves and elevates them; all with the exception of myself; and I alone

am their corrupter? Is that what you affirm?

That is what I stoutly affirm.

I am very unfortunate if that is true. But suppose I ask you a question: Would you say that this

also holds true in the case of horses? Does one man do them harm and all the world good? Is not

the exact opposite of this true? One man is able to do them good, or at least not many; - the

trainer of horses, that is to say, does them good, and others who have to do with them rather

injure them? Is not that true, Meletus, of horses, or any other animals? Yes, certainly. Whether

you and Anytus say yes or no, that is no matter. Happy indeed would be the condition of youth if

they had one corrupter only, and all the rest of the world were their improvers. And you,

Meletus, have sufficiently shown that you never had a thought about the young: your

carelessness is seen in your not caring about matters spoken of in this very indictment.

And now, Meletus, I must ask you another question: Which is better, to live among bad citizens,

or among good ones? Answer, friend, I say; for that is a question which may be easily answered.

Do not the good do their neighbors good, and the bad do them evil?

Certainly.

And is there anyone who would rather be injured than benefited by those who live with him?

Answer, my good friend; the law requires you to answer - does anyone like to be injured?

Certainly not.

And when you accuse me of corrupting and deteriorating the youth, do you allege that I corrupt

them intentionally or unintentionally?

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Intentionally, I say.

But you have just admitted that the good do their neighbors good, and the evil do them evil. Now

is that a truth which your superior wisdom has recognized thus early in life, and am I, at my age,

in such darkness and ignorance as not to know that if a man with whom I have to live is

corrupted by me, I am very likely to be harmed by him, and yet I corrupt him, and intentionally,

too; - that is what you are saying, and of that you will never persuade me or any other human

being. But either I do not corrupt them, or I corrupt them unintentionally, so that on either view

of the case you lie. If my offence is unintentional, the law has no cognizance of unintentional

offences: you ought to have taken me privately, and warned and admonished me; for if I had

been better advised, I should have left off doing what I only did unintentionally - no doubt I

should; whereas you hated to converse with me or teach me, but you indicted me in this court,

which is a place not of instruction, but of punishment.

I have shown, Athenians, as I was saying, that Meletus has no care at all, great or small, about

the matter. But still I should like to know, Meletus, in what I am affirmed to corrupt the young. I

suppose you mean, as I infer from your indictment, that I teach them not to acknowledge the

gods which the state acknowledges, but some other new divinities or spiritual agencies in their

stead. These are the lessons which corrupt the youth, as you say.

Yes, that I say emphatically.

Then, by the gods, Meletus, of whom we are speaking, tell me and the court, in somewhat plainer

terms, what you mean! for I do not as yet understand whether you affirm that I teach others to

acknowledge some gods, and therefore do believe in gods and am not an entire atheist - this you

do not lay to my charge; but only that they are not the same gods which the city recognizes - the

charge is that they are different gods. Or, do you mean to say that I am an atheist simply, and a

teacher of atheism?

I mean the latter - that you are a complete atheist.

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That is an extraordinary statement, Meletus. Why do you say that? Do you mean that I do not

believe in the godhead of the sun or moon, which is the common creed of all men?

I assure you, judges, that he does not believe in them; for he says that the sun is stone, and the

moon earth.

Friend Meletus, you think that you are accusing Anaxagoras; and you have but a bad opinion of

the judges, if you fancy them ignorant to such a degree as not to know that those doctrines are

found in the books of Anaxagoras the Clazomenian, who is full of them. And these are the

doctrines which the youth are said to learn of Socrates, when there are not unfrequently

exhibitions of them at the theatre (price of admission one drachma at the most); and they might

cheaply purchase them, and laugh at Socrates if he pretends to father such eccentricities. And so,

Meletus, you really think that I do not believe in any god?

I swear by Zeus that you believe absolutely in none at all.

You are a liar, Meletus, not believed even by yourself. For I cannot help thinking, O men of

Athens, that Meletus is reckless and impudent, and that he has written this indictment in a spirit

of mere wantonness and youthful bravado. Has he not compounded a riddle, thinking to try me?

He said to himself: - I shall see whether this wise Socrates will discover my ingenious

contradiction, or whether I shall be able to deceive him and the rest of them. For he certainly

does appear to me to contradict himself in the indictment as much as if he said that Socrates is

guilty of not believing in the gods, and yet of believing in them - but this surely is a piece of fun.

I should like you, O men of Athens, to join me in examining what I conceive to be his

inconsistency; and do you, Meletus, answer. And I must remind you that you are not to interrupt

me if I speak in my accustomed manner.

Did ever man, Meletus, believe in the existence of human things, and not of human beings? ... I

wish, men of Athens, that he would answer, and not be always trying to get up an interruption.

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Did ever any man believe in horsemanship, and not in horses? or in flute-playing, and not in

flute-players? No, my friend; I will answer to you and to the court, as you refuse to answer for

yourself. There is no man who ever did. But now please to answer the next question: Can a man

believe in spiritual and divine agencies, and not in spirits or demigods?

He cannot.

I am glad that I have extracted that answer, by the assistance of the court; nevertheless you swear

in the indictment that I teach and believe in divine or spiritual agencies (new or old, no matter for

that); at any rate, I believe in spiritual agencies, as you say and swear in the affidavit; but if I

believe in divine beings, I must believe in spirits or demigods; - is not that true? Yes, that is true,

for I may assume that your silence gives assent to that. Now what are spirits or demigods? are

they not either gods or the sons of gods? Is that true?

Yes, that is true.

But this is just the ingenious riddle of which I was speaking: the demigods or spirits are gods,

and you say first that I don't believe in gods, and then again that I do believe in gods; that is, if I

believe in demigods. For if the demigods are the illegitimate sons of gods, whether by the

Nymphs or by any other mothers, as is thought, that, as all men will allow, necessarily implies

the existence of their parents. You might as well affirm the existence of mules, and deny that of

horses and asses. Such nonsense, Meletus, could only have been intended by you as a trial of me.

You have put this into the indictment because you had nothing real of which to accuse me. But

no one who has a particle of understanding will ever be convinced by you that the same man can

believe in divine and superhuman things, and yet not believe that there are gods and demigods

and heroes.

I have said enough in answer to the charge of Meletus: any elaborate defence is unnecessary; but

as I was saying before, I certainly have many enemies, and this is what will be my destruction if

I am destroyed; of that I am certain; - not Meletus, nor yet Anytus, but the envy and detraction of

the world, which has been the death of many good men, and will probably be the death of many

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more; there is no danger of my being the last of them.

Someone will say: And are you not ashamed, Socrates, of a course of life which is likely to bring

you to an untimely end? To him I may fairly answer: There you are mistaken: a man who is good

for anything ought not to calculate the chance of living or dying; he ought only to consider

whether in doing anything he is doing right or wrong - acting the part of a good man or of a bad.

Whereas, according to your view, the heroes who fell at Troy were not good for much, and the

son of Thetis above all, who altogether despised danger in comparison with disgrace; and when

his goddess mother said to him, in his eagerness to slay Hector, that if he avenged his companion

Patroclus, and slew Hector, he would die himself - "Fate," as she said, "waits upon you next after

Hector"; he, hearing this, utterly despised danger and death, and instead of fearing them, feared

rather to live in dishonor, and not to avenge his friend. "Let me die next," he replies, "and be

avenged of my enemy, rather than abide here by the beaked ships, a scorn and a burden of the

earth." Had Achilles any thought of death and danger? For wherever a man's place is, whether

the place which he has chosen or that in which he has been placed by a commander, there he

ought to remain in the hour of danger; he should not think of death or of anything, but of

disgrace. And this, O men of Athens, is a true saying.

Strange, indeed, would be my conduct, O men of Athens, if I who, when I was ordered by the

generals whom you chose to command me at Potidaea and Amphipolis and Delium, remained

where they placed me, like any other man, facing death; if, I say, now, when, as I conceive and

imagine, God orders me to fulfil the philosopher's mission of searching into myself and other

men, I were to desert my post through fear of death, or any other fear; that would indeed be

strange, and I might justly be arraigned in court for denying the existence of the gods, if I

disobeyed the oracle because I was afraid of death: then I should be fancying that I was wise

when I was not wise. For this fear of death is indeed the pretence of wisdom, and not real

wisdom, being the appearance of knowing the unknown; since no one knows whether death,

which they in their fear apprehend to be the greatest evil, may not be the greatest good. Is there

not here conceit of knowledge, which is a disgraceful sort of ignorance? And this is the point in

which, as I think, I am superior to men in general, and in which I might perhaps fancy myself

wiser than other men, - that whereas I know but little of the world below, I do not suppose that I

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know: but I do know that injustice and disobedience to a better, whether God or man, is evil and

dishonorable, and I will never fear or avoid a possible good rather than a certain evil. And

therefore if you let me go now, and reject the counsels of Anytus, who said that if I were not put

to death I ought not to have been prosecuted, and that if I escape now, your sons will all be

utterly ruined by listening to my words - if you say to me, Socrates, this time we will not mind

Anytus, and will let you off, but upon one condition, that are to inquire and speculate in this way

any more, and that if you are caught doing this again you shall die; - if this was the condition on

which you let me go, I should reply: Men of Athens, I honor and love you; but I shall obey God

rather than you, and while I have life and strength I shall never cease from the practice and

teaching of philosophy, exhorting anyone whom I meet after my manner, and convincing him,

saying: O my friend, why do you who are a citizen of the great and mighty and wise city of

Athens, care so much about laying up the greatest amount of money and honor and reputation,

and so little about wisdom and truth and the greatest improvement of the soul, which you never

regard or heed at all? Are you not ashamed of this? And if the person with whom I am arguing

says: Yes, but I do care; I do not depart or let him go at once; I interrogate and examine and

cross-examine him, and if I think that he has no virtue, but only says that he has, I reproach him

with undervaluing the greater, and overvaluing the less. And this I should say to everyone whom

I meet, young and old, citizen and alien, but especially to the citizens, inasmuch as they are my

brethren. For this is the command of God, as I would have you know; and I believe that to this

day no greater good has ever happened in the state than my service to the God. For I do nothing

but go about persuading you all, old and young alike, not to take thought for your persons and

your properties, but first and chiefly to care about the greatest improvement of the soul. I tell you

that virtue is not given by money, but that from virtue come money and every other good of man,

public as well as private. This is my teaching, and if this is the doctrine which corrupts the youth,

my influence is ruinous indeed. But if anyone says that this is not my teaching, he is speaking an

untruth. Wherefore, O men of Athens, I say to you, do as Anytus bids or not as Anytus bids, and

either acquit me or not; but whatever you do, know that I shall never alter my ways, not even if I

have to die many times.

Men of Athens, do not interrupt, but hear me; there was an agreement between us that you

should hear me out. And I think that what I am going to say will do you good: for I have

15

something more to say, at which you may be inclined to cry out; but I beg that you will not do

this. I would have you know that, if you kill such a one as I am, you will injure yourselves more

than you will injure me. Meletus and Anytus will not injure me: they cannot; for it is not in the

nature of things that a bad man should injure a better than himself. I do not deny that he may,

perhaps, kill him, or drive him into exile, or deprive him of civil rights; and he may imagine, and

others may imagine, that he is doing him a great injury: but in that I do not agree with him; for

the evil of doing as Anytus is doing - of unjustly taking away another man's life - is greater far.

And now, Athenians, I am not going to argue for my own sake, as you may think, but for yours,

that you may not sin against the God, or lightly reject his boon by condemning me. For if you

kill me you will not easily find another like me, who, if I may use such a ludicrous figure of

speech, am a sort of gadfly, given to the state by the God; and the state is like a great and noble

steed who is tardy in his motions owing to his very size, and requires to be stirred into life. I am

that gadfly which God has given the state and all day long and in all places am always fastening

upon you, arousing and persuading and reproaching you. And as you will not easily find another

like me, I would advise you to spare me. I dare say that you may feel irritated at being suddenly

awakened when you are caught napping; and you may think that if you were to strike me dead,

as Anytus advises, which you easily might, then you would sleep on for the remainder of your

lives, unless God in his care of you gives you another gadfly. And that I am given to you by God

is proved by this: - that if I had been like other men, I should not have neglected all my own

concerns, or patiently seen the neglect of them during all these years, and have been doing yours,

coming to you individually, like a father or elder brother, exhorting you to regard virtue; this I

say, would not be like human nature. And had I gained anything, or if my exhortations had been

paid, there would have been some sense in that: but now, as you will perceive, not even the

impudence of my accusers dares to say that I have ever exacted or sought pay of anyone; they

have no witness of that. And I have a witness of the truth of what I say; my poverty is a sufficient

witness.

Someone may wonder why I go about in private, giving advice and busying myself with the

concerns of others, but do not venture to come forward in public and advise the state. I will tell

you the reason of this. You have often heard me speak of an oracle or sign which comes to me,

and is the divinity which Meletus ridicules in the indictment. This sign I have had ever since I

16

was a child. The sign is a voice which comes to me and always forbids me to do something

which I am going to do, but never commands me to do anything, and this is what stands in the

way of my being a politician. And rightly, as I think. For I am certain, O men of Athens, that if I

had engaged in politics, I should have perished long ago and done no good either to you or to

myself. And don't be offended at my telling you the truth: for the truth is that no man who goes

to war with you or any other multitude, honestly struggling against the commission of

unrighteousness and wrong in the state, will save his life; he who will really fight for the right, if

he would live even for a little while, must have a private station and not a public one.

I can give you as proofs of this, not words only, but deeds, which you value more than words.

Let me tell you a passage of my own life, which will prove to you that I should never have

yielded to injustice from any fear of death, and that if I had not yielded I should have died at

once. I will tell you a story - tasteless, perhaps, and commonplace, but nevertheless true. The

only office of state which I ever held, O men of Athens, was that of senator; the tribe Antiochis,

which is my tribe, had the presidency at the trial of the generals who had not taken up the bodies

of the slain after the battle of Arginusae; and you proposed to try them all together, which was

illegal, as you all thought afterwards; but at the time I was the only one of the Prytanes who was

opposed to the illegality, and I gave my vote against you; and when the orators threatened to

impeach and arrest me, and have me taken away, and you called and shouted, I made up my

mind that I would run the risk, having law and justice with me, rather than take part in your

injustice because I feared imprisonment and death. This happened in the days of the democracy.

But when the oligarchy of the Thirty was in power, they sent for me and four others into the

rotunda, and bade us bring Leon the Salaminian from Salamis, as they wanted to execute him.

This was a specimen of the sort of commands which they were always giving with the view of

implicating as many as possible in their crimes; and then I showed, not in words only, but in

deed, that, if I may be allowed to use such an expression, I cared not a straw for death, and that

my only fear was the fear of doing an unrighteous or unholy thing. For the strong arm of that

oppressive power did not frighten me into doing wrong; and when we came out of the rotunda

the other four went to Salamis and fetched Leon, but I went quietly home. For which I might

have lost my life, had not the power of the Thirty shortly afterwards come to an end. And to this

many will witness.

17

Now do you really imagine that I could have survived all these years, if I had led a public life,

supposing that like a good man I had always supported the right and had made justice, as I ought,

the first thing? No, indeed, men of Athens, neither I nor any other. But I have been always the

same in all my actions, public as well as private, and never have I yielded any base compliance

to those who are slanderously termed my disciples or to any other. For the truth is that I have no

regular disciples: but if anyone likes to come and hear me while I am pursuing my mission,

whether he be young or old, he may freely come. Nor do I converse with those who pay only,

and not with those who do not pay; but anyone, whether he be rich or poor, may ask and answer

me and listen to my words; and whether he turns out to be a bad man or a good one, that cannot

be justly laid to my charge, as I never taught him anything. And if anyone says that he has ever

learned or heard anything from me in private which all the world has not heard, I should like you

to know that he is speaking an untruth.

But I shall be asked, Why do people delight in continually conversing with you? I have told you

already, Athenians, the whole truth about this: they like to hear the cross-examination of the

pretenders to wisdom; there is amusement in this. And this is a duty which the God has imposed

upon me, as I am assured by oracles, visions, and in every sort of way in which the will of divine

power was ever signified to anyone. This is true, O Athenians; or, if not true, would be soon

refuted. For if I am really corrupting the youth, and have corrupted some of them already, those

of them who have grown up and have become sensible that I gave them bad advice in the days of

their youth should come forward as accusers and take their revenge; and if they do not like to

come themselves, some of their relatives, fathers, brothers, or other kinsmen, should say what

evil their families suffered at my hands. Now is their time. Many of them I see in the court.

There is Crito, who is of the same age and of the same deme with myself; and there is Critobulus

his son, whom I also see. Then again there is Lysanias of Sphettus, who is the father of

Aeschines - he is present; and also there is Antiphon of Cephisus, who is the father of Epignes;

and there are the brothers of several who have associated with me. There is Nicostratus the son

of Theosdotides, and the brother of Theodotus (now Theodotus himself is dead, and therefore he,

at any rate, will not seek to stop him); and there is Paralus the son of Demodocus, who had a

brother Theages; and Adeimantus the son of Ariston, whose brother Plato is present; and

18

Aeantodorus, who is the brother of Apollodorus, whom I also see. I might mention a great many

others, any of whom Meletus should have produced as witnesses in the course of his speech; and

let him still produce them, if he has forgotten - I will make way for him. And let him say, if he

has any testimony of the sort which he can produce. Nay, Athenians, the very opposite is the

truth. For all these are ready to witness on behalf of the corrupter, of the destroyer of their

kindred, as Meletus and Anytus call me; not the corrupted youth only - there might have been a

motive for that - but their uncorrupted elder relatives. Why should they too support me with their

testimony? Why, indeed, except for the sake of truth and justice, and because they know that I

am speaking the truth, and that Meletus is lying.

Well, Athenians, this and the like of this is nearly all the defence which I have to offer. Yet a

word more. Perhaps there may be someone who is offended at me, when he calls to mind how he

himself, on a similar or even a less serious occasion, had recourse to prayers and supplications

with many tears, and how he produced his children in court, which was a moving spectacle,

together with a posse of his relations and friends; whereas I, who am probably in danger of my

life, will do none of these things. Perhaps this may come into his mind, and he may be set against

me, and vote in anger because he is displeased at this. Now if there be such a person among you,

which I am far from affirming, I may fairly reply to him: My friend, I am a man, and like other

men, a creature of flesh and blood, and not of wood or stone, as Homer says; and I have a family,

yes, and sons. O Athenians, three in number, one of whom is growing up, and the two others are

still young; and yet I will not bring any of them hither in order to petition you for an acquittal.

And why not? Not from any self-will or disregard of you. Whether I am or am not afraid of death

is another question, of which I will not now speak. But my reason simply is that I feel such

conduct to be discreditable to myself, and you, and the whole state. One who has reached my

years, and who has a name for wisdom, whether deserved or not, ought not to debase himself. At

any rate, the world has decided that Socrates is in some way superior to other men. And if those

among you who are said to be superior in wisdom and courage, and any other virtue, demean

themselves in this way, how shameful is their conduct! I have seen men of reputation, when they

have been condemned, behaving in the strangest manner: they seemed to fancy that they were

going to suffer something dreadful if they died, and that they could be immortal if you only

allowed them to live; and I think that they were a dishonor to the state, and that any stranger

19

coming in would say of them that the most eminent men of Athens, to whom the Athenians

themselves give honor and command, are no better than women. And I say that these things

ought not to be done by those of us who are of reputation; and if they are done, you ought not to

permit them; you ought rather to show that you are more inclined to condemn, not the man who

is quiet, but the man who gets up a doleful scene, and makes the city ridiculous.

But, setting aside the question of dishonor, there seems to be something wrong in petitioning a

judge, and thus procuring an acquittal instead of informing and convincing him. For his duty is,

not to make a present of justice, but to give judgment; and he has sworn that he will judge

according to the laws, and not according to his own good pleasure; and neither he nor we should

get into the habit of perjuring ourselves - there can be no piety in that. Do not then require me to

do what I consider dishonorable and impious and wrong, especially now, when I am being tried

for impiety on the indictment of Meletus. For if, O men of Athens, by force of persuasion and

entreaty, I could overpower your oaths, then I should be teaching you to believe that there are no

gods, and convict myself, in my own defence, of not believing in them. But that is not the case;

for I do believe that there are gods, and in a far higher sense than that in which any of my

accusers believe in them. And to you and to God I commit my cause, to be determined by you as

is best for you and me.

The jury finds Socrates guilty.

Socrates' Proposal for his Sentence

There are many reasons why I am not grieved, O men of Athens, at the vote of condemnation. I

expected it, and am only surprised that the votes are so nearly equal; for I had thought that the

majority against me would have been far larger; but now, had thirty votes gone over to the other

side, I should have been acquitted. And I may say that I have escaped Meletus. And I may say

more; for without the assistance of Anytus and Lycon, he would not have had a fifth part of the

votes, as the law requires, in which case he would have incurred a fine of a thousand drachmae,

as is evident.

20

And so he proposes death as the penalty. And what shall I propose on my part, O men of Athens?

Clearly that which is my due. And what is that which I ought to pay or to receive? What shall be

done to the man who has never had the wit to be idle during his whole life; but has been careless

of what the many care about - wealth, and family interests, and military offices, and speaking in

the assembly, and magistracies, and plots, and parties. Reflecting that I was really too honest a

man to follow in this way and live, I did not go where I could do no good to you or to myself; but

where I could do the greatest good privately to everyone of you, thither I went, and sought to

persuade every man among you that he must look to himself, and seek virtue and wisdom before

he looks to his private interests, and look to the state before he looks to the interests of the state;

and that this should be the order which he observes in all his actions. What shall be done to such

a one? Doubtless some good thing, O men of Athens, if he has his reward; and the good should

be of a kind suitable to him. What would be a reward suitable to a poor man who is your

benefactor, who desires leisure that he may instruct you? There can be no more fitting reward

than maintenance in the Prytaneum, O men of Athens, a reward which he deserves far more than

the citizen who has won the prize at Olympia in the horse or chariot race, whether the chariots

were drawn by two horses or by many. For I am in want, and he has enough; and he only gives

you the appearance of happiness, and I give you the reality. And if I am to estimate the penalty

justly, I say that maintenance in the Prytaneum is the just return.

Perhaps you may think that I am braving you in saying this, as in what I said before about the

tears and prayers. But that is not the case. I speak rather because I am convinced that I never

intentionally wronged anyone, although I cannot convince you of that - for we have had a short

conversation only; but if there were a law at Athens, such as there is in other cities, that a capital

cause should not be decided in one day, then I believe that I should have convinced you; but now

the time is too short. I cannot in a moment refute great slanders; and, as I am convinced that I

never wronged another, I will assuredly not wrong myself. I will not say of myself that I deserve

any evil, or propose any penalty. Why should I? Because I am afraid of the penalty of death

which Meletus proposes? When I do not know whether death is a good or an evil, why should I

propose a penalty which would certainly be an evil? Shall I say imprisonment? And why should I

live in prison, and be the slave of the magistrates of the year - of the Eleven? Or shall the penalty

be a fine, and imprisonment until the fine is paid? There is the same objection. I should have to

21

lie in prison, for money I have none, and I cannot pay. And if I say exile (and this may possibly

be the penalty which you will affix), I must indeed be blinded by the love of life if I were to

consider that when you, who are my own citizens, cannot endure my discourses and words, and

have found them so grievous and odious that you would fain have done with them, others are

likely to endure me. No, indeed, men of Athens, that is not very likely. And what a life should I

lead, at my age, wandering from city to city, living in ever-changing exile, and always being

driven out! For I am quite sure that into whatever place I go, as here so also there, the young men

will come to me; and if I drive them away, their elders will drive me out at their desire: and if I

let them come, their fathers and friends will drive me out for their sakes.

Someone will say: Yes, Socrates, but cannot you hold your tongue, and then you may go into a

foreign city, and no one will interfere with you? Now I have great difficulty in making you

understand my answer to this. For if I tell you that this would be a disobedience to a divine

command, and therefore that I cannot hold my tongue, you will not believe that I am serious; and

if I say again that the greatest good of man is daily to converse about virtue, and all that

concerning which you hear me examining myself and others, and that the life which is

unexamined is not worth living - that you are still less likely to believe. And yet what I say is

true, although a thing of which it is hard for me to persuade you. Moreover, I am not accustomed

to think that I deserve any punishment. Had I money I might have proposed to give you what I

had, and have been none the worse. But you see that I have none, and can only ask you to

proportion the fine to my means. However, I think that I could afford a minae, and therefore I

propose that penalty; Plato, Crito, Critobulus, and Apollodorus, my friends here, bid me say

thirty minae, and they will be the sureties. Well then, say thirty minae, let that be the penalty; for

that they will be ample security to you.

The jury condemns Socrates to death.

Socrates' Comments on his Sentence

Not much time will be gained, O Athenians, in return for the evil name which you will get from

the detractors of the city, who will say that you killed Socrates, a wise man; for they will call me

22

wise even although I am not wise when they want to reproach you. If you had waited a little

while, your desire would have been fulfilled in the course of nature. For I am far advanced in

years, as you may perceive, and not far from death. I am speaking now only to those of you who

have condemned me to death. And I have another thing to say to them: You think that I was

convicted through deficiency of words - I mean, that if I had thought fit to leave nothing undone,

nothing unsaid, I might have gained an acquittal. Not so; the deficiency which led to my

conviction was not of words - certainly not. But I had not the boldness or impudence or

inclination to address you as you would have liked me to address you, weeping and wailing and

lamenting, and saying and doing many things which you have been accustomed to hear from

others, and which, as I say, are unworthy of me. But I thought that I ought not to do anything

common or mean in the hour of danger: nor do I now repent of the manner of my defence, and I

would rather die having spoken after my manner, than speak in your manner and live. For neither

in war nor yet at law ought any man to use every way of escaping death. For often in battle there

is no doubt that if a man will throw away his arms, and fall on his knees before his pursuers, he

may escape death; and in other dangers there are other ways of escaping death, if a man is

willing to say and do anything. The difficulty, my friends, is not in avoiding death, but in

avoiding unrighteousness; for that runs faster than death. I am old and move slowly, and the

slower runner has overtaken me, and my accusers are keen and quick, and the faster runner, who

is unrighteousness, has overtaken them. And now I depart hence condemned by you to suffer the

penalty of death, and they, too, go their ways condemned by the truth to suffer the penalty of

villainy and wrong; and I must abide by my award - let them abide by theirs. I suppose that these

things may be regarded as fated, - and I think that they are well.

And now, O men who have condemned me, I would fain prophesy to you; for I am about to die,

and that is the hour in which men are gifted with prophetic power. And I prophesy to you who

are my murderers, that immediately after my death punishment far heavier than you have

inflicted on me will surely await you. Me you have killed because you wanted to escape the

accuser, and not to give an account of your lives. But that will not be as you suppose: far

otherwise. For I say that there will be more accusers of you than there are now; accusers whom

hitherto I have restrained: and as they are younger they will be more severe with you, and you

will be more offended at them. For if you think that by killing men you can avoid the accuser

23

censuring your lives, you are mistaken; that is not a way of escape which is either possible or

honorable; the easiest and noblest way is not to be crushing others, but to be improving

yourselves. This is the prophecy which I utter before my departure, to the judges who have

condemned me.

Friends, who would have acquitted me, I would like also to talk with you about this thing which

has happened, while the magistrates are busy, and before I go to the place at which I must die.

Stay then awhile, for we may as well talk with one another while there is time. You are my

friends, and I should like to show you the meaning of this event which has happened to me. O

my judges - for you I may truly call judges - I should like to tell you of a wonderful

circumstance. Hitherto the familiar oracle within me has constantly been in the habit of opposing

me even about trifles, if I was going to make a slip or error about anything; and now as you see

there has come upon me that which may be thought, and is generally believed to be, the last and

worst evil. But the oracle made no sign of opposition, either as I was leaving my house and going

out in the morning, or when I was going up into this court, or while I was speaking, at anything

which I was going to say; and yet I have often been stopped in the middle of a speech; but now

in nothing I either said or did touching this matter has the oracle opposed me. What do I take to

be the explanation of this? I will tell you. I regard this as a proof that what has happened to me is

a good, and that those of us who think that death is an evil are in error. This is a great proof to

me of what I am saying, for the customary sign would surely have opposed me had I been going

to evil and not to good.

Let us reflect in another way, and we shall see that there is great reason to hope that death is a

good, for one of two things: - either death is a state of nothingness and utter unconsciousness, or,

as men say, there is a change and migration of the soul from this world to another. Now if you

suppose that there is no consciousness, but a sleep like the sleep of him who is undisturbed even

by the sight of dreams, death will be an unspeakable gain. For if a person were to select the night

in which his sleep was undisturbed even by dreams, and were to compare with this the other days

and nights of his life, and then were to tell us how many days and nights he had passed in the

course of his life better and more pleasantly than this one, I think that any man, I will not say a

private man, but even the great king, will not find many such days or nights, when compared

24

with the others. Now if death is like this, I say that to die is gain; for eternity is then only a single

night. But if death is the journey to another place, and there, as men say, all the dead are, what

good, O my friends and judges, can be greater than this? If indeed when the pilgrim arrives in the

world below, he is delivered from the professors of justice in this world, and finds the true judges

who are said to give judgment there, Minos and Rhadamanthus and Aeacus and Triptolemus, and

other sons of God who were righteous in their own life, that pilgrimage will be worth making.

What would not a man give if he might converse with Orpheus and Musaeus and Hesiod and

Homer? Nay, if this be true, let me die again and again. I, too, shall have a wonderful interest in

a place where I can converse with Palamedes, and Ajax the son of Telamon, and other heroes of

old, who have suffered death through an unjust judgment; and there will be no small pleasure, as

I think, in comparing my own sufferings with theirs. Above all, I shall be able to continue my

search into true and false knowledge; as in this world, so also in that; I shall find out who is wise,

and who pretends to be wise, and is not. What would not a man give, O judges, to be able to

examine the leader of the great Trojan expedition; or Odysseus or Sisyphus, or numberless

others, men and women too! What infinite delight would there be in conversing with them and

asking them questions! For in that world they do not put a man to death for this; certainly not.

For besides being happier in that world than in this, they will be immortal, if what is said is true.

Wherefore, O judges, be of good cheer about death, and know this of a truth - that no evil can

happen to a good man, either in life or after death. He and his are not neglected by the gods; nor

has my own approaching end happened by mere chance. But I see clearly that to die and be

released was better for me; and therefore the oracle gave no sign. For which reason also, I am not

angry with my accusers, or my condemners; they have done me no harm, although neither of

them meant to do me any good; and for this I may gently blame them.

Still I have a favor to ask of them. When my sons are grown up, I would ask you, O my friends,

to punish them; and I would have you trouble them, as I have troubled you, if they seem to care

about riches, or anything, more than about virtue; or if they pretend to be something when they

are really nothing, - then reprove them, as I have reproved you, for not caring about that for

which they ought to care, and thinking that they are something when they are really nothing. And

if you do this, I and my sons will have received justice at your hands.

25

The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways - I to die, and you to live. Which is better

God only knows.

THE END

26

Plato, The Republic

(trans. Shorey)

Via

http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Plat.+Rep.+8&fromdoc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.01.0168

Book 8

Socrates

“Very good. We are agreed then, Glaucon, that the state which is to achieve the height of good

government must have community1 of wives and children and all education, and also that the

pursuits of men and women must be the same in peace and war, and that the rulers or kings2 over

them3 are to be those who have approved themselves the best in both war and philosophy.” “We

are agreed,” he said. “And we further granted this, [543b] that when the rulers are established in

office they shall conduct these soldiers and settle them in habitations4 such as we described, that

have nothing private for anybody but are common for all, and in addition to such habitations we

agreed, if you remember, what should be the nature of their possessions.5” “Why, yes, I

remember,” he said, “that we thought it right that none of them should have anything that

ordinary men6 now possess, but that, being as it were athletes7 [543c] of war and guardians, they

should receive from the others as pay8 for their guardianship each year their yearly sustenance,

and devote their entire attention to the care of themselves and the state.” “That is right,” I said.

“But now that we have finished this topic let us recall the point at which we entered on the

digression9 that has brought us here, so that we may proceed on our way again by the same

path.” “That is easy,” he said; “for at that time, almost exactly as now, on the supposition that

you had finished the description of the city, you were going on to say10 that you assumed such a

city [543d] as you then described and the corresponding type of man to be good, and that too

though, as it appears, you had a still finer city and type of man to tell of; [544a] but at any rate

you were saying that the others are aberrations,11 if this city is right. But regarding the other

27

constitutions, my recollection is that you said there were four species12 worth speaking of13 and

observing their defects14 and the corresponding types of men, in order that when we had seen

them all and come to an agreement about the best and the worst man, we might determine

whether the best is the happiest and the worst most wretched or whether it is otherwise.15 And

when I was asking what were [544b] the four constitutions you had in mind, Polemarchus and

Adeimantus thereupon broke in, and that was how you took up the discussion again and brought

to this point.16” “Your memory is most exact,” I said. “A second time then, as in a wrestling-

match, offer me the same hold,17 and when I repeat my question try to tell me what you were

then about to say.” “I will if I can,” said I. “And indeed,” said he, “I am eager myself to hear

what four forms of government you meant.” [544c] “There will be no difficulty about that,” said

I. “For those I mean are precisely those that have names18 in common usage: that which the

many praised,19 your20 Cretan and Spartan constitution; and the second in place and in honor,

that which is called oligarchy, a constitution teeming with many ills, and its sequent counterpart

and opponent, democracy ; and then the noble21 tyranny surpassing them all, the fourth and final

malady22 of a state. [544d] Can you mention any other type23 of government, I mean any other

that constitutes a distinct species24? For, no doubt, there are hereditary principalities25 and

purchased26 kingships, and similar intermediate constitutions which one could find in even

greater numbers among the barbarians than among the Greeks.27” “Certainly many strange ones

are reported,” he said.

“Are you aware, then,” said I, “that there must be as many types of character among men as there

are forms of government28? Or do you suppose that constitutions spring from the proverbial oak

or rock29 and not from the characters30 of the citizens, [544e] which, as it were, by their

momentum and weight in the scales31 draw other things after them?” “They could not possibly

come from any other source,” he said. “Then if the forms of government are five, the patterns of

individual souls must be five also.” “Surely.” “Now we have already described the man

corresponding to aristocracy32 or the government of the best, whom we aver to be the truly good

and just man.” [545a] “We have.” “Must we not, then, next after this, survey the inferior types,

the man who is contentious and covetous of honor,33 corresponding to the Laconian constitution,

and the oligarchical man in turn, and the democratic and the tyrant, in order that,34 after

observing the most unjust of all, we may oppose him to the most just, and complete our inquiry

28

as to the relation of pure justice and pure injustice in respect of the happiness and unhappiness of

the possessor, so that we may either follow the counsel of Thrasymachus and pursue injustice

[545b] or the present argument and pursue justice?” “Assuredly,” he said, “that is what we have

to do.35” “Shall we, then, as we began by examining moral qualities in states before individuals,

as being more manifest there, so now consider first the constitution based on the love of honor? I

do not know of any special name36 for it in use. We must call it either timocracy37 or timarchy.

And then in connection with this [545c] we will consider the man of that type, and thereafter

oligarchy and the oligarch, and again, fixing our eyes on democracy, we will contemplate the

democratic man: and fourthly, after coming to the city ruled by a tyrant and observing it, we will

in turn take a look into the tyrannical soul,38 and so try to make ourselves competent judges39 of

the question before us.” “That would be at least40 a systematic and consistent way of conducting

the observation and the decision,” he said.

“Come, then,” said I, “let us try to tell in what way a timocracy would arise out of an aristocracy.

[545d] Or is this the simple and unvarying rule, that in every form of government revolution

takes its start from the ruling class itself,41 when dissension arises in that, but so long as it is at

one with itself, however small it be, innovation is impossible?” “Yes, that is so.” “How, then,

Glaucon,” I said, “will disturbance arise in our city, and how will our helpers and rulers fall out

and be at odds with one another and themselves? Shall we, like Homer, invoke the Muses42 to

tell “‘how faction first fell upon them,’”Hom. Il. 1.6 [545e] and say that these goddesses playing

with us and teasing us as if we were children address us in lofty, mock-serious tragic43 style?”

[546a] “How?” “Somewhat in this fashion. Hard in truth44 it is for a state thus constituted to be

shaken and disturbed; but since for everything that has come into being destruction is

appointed,45 not even such a fabric as this will abide for all time, but it shall surely be dissolved,

and this is the manner of its dissolution. Not only for plants that grow from the earth but also for

animals that live upon it there is a cycle of bearing and barrenness46 for soul and body as often as

the revolutions of their orbs come full circle, in brief courses for the short-lived and oppositely

for the opposite; but the laws of prosperous birth or infertility for your race, [546b] the men you

have bred to be your rulers will not for all their wisdom ascertain by reasoning combined with

sensation,47 but they will escape them, and there will be a time when they will beget children out

of season. Now for divine begettings there is a period comprehended by a perfect number,48 and

29

for mortal by the first in which augmentations dominating and dominated when they have

attained to three distances and four limits of the assimilating and the dissimilating, the waxing

and the waning, render all things conversable49 and commensurable [546c] with one another,

whereof a basal four-thirds wedded to the pempad yields two harmonies at the third

augmentation, the one the product of equal factors taken one hundred times, the other of equal

length one way but oblong,—one dimension of a hundred numbers determined by the rational

diameters of the pempad lacking one in each case, or of the irrational50 lacking two; the other

dimension of a hundred cubes of the triad. And this entire geometrical number is determinative

of this thing, of better and inferior births. [546d] And when your guardians, missing this, bring

together brides and bridegrooms unseasonably,51 the offspring will not be well-born or fortunate.

Of such offspring the previous generation will establish the best, to be sure, in office, but still

these, being unworthy, and having entered in turn52 into the powers of their fathers, will first as

guardians begin to neglect us, paying too little heed to music53 and then to gymnastics, so that

our young men will deteriorate in their culture; and the rulers selected from them [546e] will not

approve themselves very efficient guardians for testing [547a] Hesiod's and our races of gold,

silver, bronze and iron.54 And this intermixture of the iron with the silver and the bronze with the

gold will engender unlikeness55 and an unharmonious unevenness, things that always beget war

and enmity wherever they arise. “‘Of this lineage, look you,’”Hom. Il. 6.211 we must aver the

dissension to be, wherever it occurs and always.” “‘And rightly too,’” he said, “we shall affirm

that the Muses answer.” “They must needs,” I said, “since they are56 Muses.” [547b] “Well,

then,” said he, “what do the Muses say next?” “When strife arose,” said I, “the two groups were

pulling against each other, the iron and bronze towards money-making and the acquisition of

land and houses and gold and silver, and the other two, the golden and silvern, not being poor,

but by nature rich in their souls,57 were trying to draw them back to virtue and their original

constitution, and thus, striving and contending against one another, they compromised58 on the

plan of distributing and taking for themselves the land and the houses, [547c] enslaving and

subjecting as perioeci and serfs59 their former friends60 and supporters, of whose freedom they

had been the guardians, and occupying themselves with war and keeping watch over these

subjects.” “I think,” he said, “that this is the starting-point of the transformation.” “Would not

this polity, then,” said I, “be in some sort intermediate between aristocracy and oligarchy ?” “By

all means.”

30

“By this change, then, it would arise. But after the change [547d] what will be its way of life? Is

it not obvious that in some things it will imitate the preceding polity, in some the oligarchy, since

it is intermediate, and that it will also have some qualities peculiar to itself?” “That is so,” he

said. “Then in honoring its rulers and in the abstention of its warrior class from farming61 and

handicraft and money-making in general, and in the provision of common public tables62 and the

devotion to physical training and expertness in the game and contest of war—in all these traits it

will copy the preceding state?” “Yes.” “But in its fear [547e] to admit clever men to office, since

the men it has of this kind are no longer simple63 and strenuous but of mixed strain, and in its

inclining rather to the more high-spirited and simple-minded type, who are better suited for war

[548a] than for peace, and in honoring the stratagems and contrivances of war and occupying

itself with war most of the time—in these respects for the most part its qualities will be peculiar

to itself?” “Yes.” “Such men,” said I, “will be avid of wealth, like those in an oligarchy, and will

cherish a fierce secret lust for gold64 and silver, owning storehouses65 and private treasuries

where they may hide them away, and also the enclosures66 of their homes, literal private love-

nests67 in which they can lavish their wealth on their women68 [548b] and any others they please

with great expenditure.” “Most true,” he said. “And will they not be stingy about money, since

they prize it and are not allowed to possess it openly, prodigal of others' wealth69 because of their

appetites, enjoying70 their pleasures stealthily, and running away from the law as boys from a

father,71 since they have not been educated by persuasion72 but by force because of their neglect

of the true Muse, the companion of discussion and philosophy, [548c] and because of their

preference of gymnastics to music?” “You perfectly describe,” he said, “a polity that is a

mixture73 of good and evil.” “Why, yes, the elements have been mixed,” I said, “but the most

conspicuous74 feature in it is one thing only, due to the predominance of the high-spirited

element, namely contentiousness and covetousness of honor.75” “Very much so,” said he. “Such,

then, would be the origin and nature of this polity if we may merely outline the figure [548d] of a

constitution in words and not elaborate it precisely, since even the sketch will suffice to show us

the most just and the most unjust type of man, and it would be an impracticable task to set forth

all forms76 of government without omitting any, and all customs and qualities of men.” “Quite

right,” he said.

31

“What, then, is the man that corresponds to this constitution? What is his origin and what his

nature?” “I fancy,” Adeimantus said, “that he comes rather close77 to Glaucon here [548e] in

point of contentiousness.” “Perhaps,” said I, “in that, but I do not think their natures are alike in

the following respects.” “In what?” “He will have to be somewhat self-willed78 and lacking in

culture,79 yet a lover of music and fond of listening80 to talk and speeches, though by no means

himself a rhetorician; [549a] and to slaves such a one would be harsh,81 not scorning them as the

really educated do, but he would be gentle with the freeborn and very submissive to officials, a

lover of office and of honor,82 not basing his claim to office83 on ability to speak or anything of

that sort but on his exploits in war or preparation for war, and he would be a devotee of

gymnastics and hunting.84” “Why, yes,” he said, “that is the spirit of that polity.85” “And would

not such a man [549b] be disdainful of wealth too in his youth, but the older he grew the more he

would love it because of his participation in the covetous nature and because his virtue is not

sincere and pure since it lacks the best guardian?” “What guardian?” said Adeimantus. “Reason,”

said I, “blended with culture,86 which is the only indwelling preserver of virtue throughout life in

the soul that possesses it.” “Well said,” he replied. “This is the character,” I said, “of the

timocratic youth, resembling the city that bears his name.” “By all means.” [549c] “His origin87

is somewhat on this wise: Sometimes he is the young son of a good father who lives in a badly

governed state and avoids honors and office and law-suits and all such meddlesomeness88 and is

willing to forbear something of his rights89 in order to escape trouble.90” “How does he

originate?” he said. “Why, when, to begin with,” I said, “he hears his mother complaining91

[549d] that her husband is not one of the rulers and for that reason she is slighted among the

other women, and when she sees that her husband is not much concerned about money and does

not fight and brawl in private lawsuits and in the public assembly, but takes all such matters

lightly, and when she observes that he is self-absorbed92 in his thoughts and neither regards nor

disregards her overmuch,93 and in consequence of all this laments and tells the boy that his father

is too slack94 and no kind of a man, with all the other complaints [549e] with which women95

nag96 in such cases.” “Many indeed,” said Adeimantus, “and after their kind.97” “You are aware,

then,” said I, “that the very house-slaves of such men, if they are loyal and friendly, privately say

the same sort of things to the sons, and if they observe a debtor or any other wrongdoer whom

the father does not prosecute, they urge the boy to punish all such when he grows to manhood

[550a] and prove himself more of a man than his father, and when the lad goes out he hears and

32

sees the same sort of thing.98 Men who mind their own affairs99 in the city are spoken of as

simpletons and are held in slight esteem, while meddlers who mind other people's affairs are

honored and praised. Then it is100 that the youth, hearing and seeing such things, and on the other

hand listening to the words of his father, and with a near view of his pursuits contrasted with

those of other men, is solicited by both, his father [550b] watering and fostering the growth of

the rational principle101 in his soul and the others the appetitive and the passionate102; and as he is

not by nature of a bad disposition but has fallen into evil communications,103 under these two

solicitations he comes to a compromise104 and turns over the government in his soul105 to the

intermediate principle of ambition and high spirit and becomes a man haughty of soul106 and

covetous of honor.107” “You have, I think, most exactly described his origin.” [550c] “Then,”

said I, “we have our second polity and second type of man.” “We have,” he said.

“Shall we then, as Aeschylus: would say, “‘tell of another champion before another

gate,’”Aesch. Seven 451108 or rather, in accordance with our plan,109 the city first?” “That, by all

means,” he said. “The next polity, I believe, would be oligarchy.” “And what kind of a regime,”

said he, “do you understand by oligarchy?” “That based on a property qualification,110” said I,

“wherein the rich hold office [550d] and the poor man is excluded.” “I understand,” said he.

“Then, is not the first thing to speak of how democracy passes over into this?” “Yes.” “And

truly,” said I, “the manner of the change is plain even to the proverbial blind man.111” “How so?”

“That treasure-house112 which each possesses filled with gold destroys that polity; for first they

invent ways of expenditure for themselves and pervert the laws to this end, [550e] and neither

they nor their wives obey them.” “That is likely,” he said. “And then, I take it, by observing and

emulating one another they bring the majority of them to this way of thinking.” “That is likely,”

he said. “And so, as time goes on, and they advance113 in the pursuit of wealth, the more they

hold that in honor the less they honor virtue. May not the opposition of wealth and virtue114 be

conceived as if each lay in the scale115 of a balance inclining opposite ways?” “Yes, indeed,” he

said. “So, when wealth is honored [551a] in a state, and the wealthy, virtue and the good are less

honored.” “Obviously.” “And that which men at any time honor they practise,116 and what is not

honored is neglected.” “It is so.” “Thus, finally, from being lovers of victory and lovers of honor

they become lovers of gain-getting and of money, and they commend and admire the rich man

and put him in office but despise the man who is poor.” “Quite so.” “And is it not then that they

33

pass a law [551b] defining the limits117 of an oligarchical polity, prescribing118 a sum of money,

a larger sum where it is more119 of an oligarchy, where it is less a smaller, and proclaiming that

no man shall hold office whose property does not come up to the required valuation? And this

law they either put through by force of arms, or without resorting to that they establish their

government by terrorization.120 Is not that the way of it?” “It is.” “The establishment then, one

may say, is in this wise.” “Yes,” he said, “but what is the character of this constitution, and what

are the defects that we said [551c] it had?”

“To begin with,” said I, “consider the nature of its constitutive and defining principle. Suppose

men should appoint the pilots121 of ships in this way, by property qualification, and not allow122 a

poor man to navigate, even if he were a better pilot.” “A sorry voyage they would make of it,” he

said. “And is not the same true of any other form of rule?” “I think so.” “Except of a city,” said I,

“or does it hold for a city too?” “Most of all,” he said, “by as much as that is the greatest and

most difficult123 rule of all.” [551d] “Here, then, is one very great defect in oligarchy.” “So it

appears.” “Well, and is this a smaller one?” “What?” “That such a city should of necessity be not

one,124 but two, a city of the rich and a city of the poor, dwelling together, and always plotting125

against one another.” “No, by Zeus,” said he, “it is not a bit smaller.” “Nor, further, can we

approve of this—the likelihood that they will not be able to wage war, because of the necessity

of either arming and employing the multitude,126 [551e] and fearing them more than the enemy,

or else, if they do not make use of them, of finding themselves on the field of battle, oligarchs

indeed,127 and rulers over a few. And to this must be added their reluctance to contribute money,

because they are lovers of money.” “No, indeed, that is not admirable.” “And what of the trait we

found fault with long ago128—the fact that in such a state the citizens are busy-bodies and jacks-

of-all-trades, farmers, [552a] financiers and soldiers all in one? Do you think that is right?” “By

no manner of means.” “Consider now whether this polity is not the first that admits that which is

the greatest of all such evils.” “What?” “The allowing a man to sell all his possessions,129 which

another is permitted to acquire, and after selling them to go on living in the city, but as no part of

it,130 neither a money-maker, nor a craftsman, nor a knight, nor a foot-soldier, but classified only

as a pauper131 and a dependent.” [552b] “This is the first,” he said. “There certainly is no

prohibition of that sort of thing in oligarchical states. Otherwise some of their citizens would not

be excessively rich, and others out and out paupers.” “Right.” “ But observe this. When such a

34

fellow was spending his wealth, was he then of any more use to the state in the matters of which

we were speaking, or did he merely seem to belong to the ruling class, while in reality he was

neither ruler nor helper in the state, but only a consumer of goods132?” “It is so,” he said; “he

only seemed, but was [552c] just a spendthrift.” “Shall we, then, say of him that as the drone133

springs up in the cell, a pest of the hive, so such a man grows up in his home, a pest of the state?”

“By all means, Socrates,” he said. “And has not God, Adeimantus, left the drones which have

wings and fly stingless one and all, while of the drones here who travel afoot he has made some

stingless but has armed others with terrible stings? And from the stingless finally issue beggars

in old age,134 [552d] but from those furnished with stings all that are denominated135

malefactors?” “Most true,” he said. “It is plain, then,” said I, “that wherever you see beggars in a

city, there are somewhere in the neighborhood concealed thieves and cutpurses and temple-

robbers and similar artists in crime.” “Clearly,” he said. “Well, then, in oligarchical cities do you

not see beggars?” “Nearly all are such,” he said, “except the ruling class.” “Are we not to

suppose, then, [552e] that there are also many criminals in them furnished with stings, whom the

rulers by their surveillance forcibly136 restrain?” “We must think so,” he said. “And shall we not

say that the presence of such citizens is the result of a defective culture and bad breeding and a

wrong constitution of the state?” “We shall.” “Well, at any rate such would be the character of

the oligarchical state, and these, or perhaps even more than these, would be the evils that afflict

it.” “Pretty nearly these,” he said. [553a] “Then,” I said, “let us regard as disposed of the

constitution called oligarchy, whose rulers are determined by a property qualification.137 And

next we are to consider the man who resembles it—how he arises and what after that his

character is.” “Quite so,” he said.

“Is not the transition from that timocratic youth to the oligarchical type mostly on this wise?”

“How?” “When a son born to the timocratic man at first emulates his father, and follows in his

footsteps138 and then sees him [553b] suddenly dashed,139 as a ship on a reef,140 against the state,

and making complete wreckage141 of both his possessions and himself perhaps he has been a

general, or has held some other important office, and has then been dragged into court by

mischievous sycophants and put to death or banished142 or outlawed and has lost all his

property—” “It is likely,” he said. “And the son, my friend, after seeing and suffering these

things, and losing his property, grows timid, I fancy, and forthwith thrusts headlong143 from his

35

bosom's throne144 [553c] that principle of love of honor and that high spirit, and being humbled

by poverty turns to the getting of money, and greedily145 and stingily and little by little by thrift

and hard work collects property. Do you not suppose that such a one will then establish on that

throne the principle of appetite and avarice, and set it up as the great king in his soul, adorned

with tiaras and collars of gold, and girt with the Persian sword?” “I do,” he said. “And under this

domination he will force the rational [553d] and high-spirited principles to crouch lowly to right

and left146 as slaves, and will allow the one to calculate and consider nothing but the ways of

making more money from a little,147 and the other to admire and honor nothing but riches and

rich men, and to take pride in nothing but the possession of wealth and whatever contributes to

that?” “There is no other transformation so swift and sure of the ambitious youth into the

avaricious type.” [553e] “Is this, then, our oligarchical man?” said I. “He is developed, at any

rate, out of a man resembling the constitution from which the oligarchy sprang.” [554a] “Let us

see, then, whether he will have a like character.” “Let us see.”

“Would he not, in the first place, resemble it in prizing wealth above everything?” “Inevitably.”

“And also by being thrifty and laborious, satisfying only his own necessary148 appetites and

desires and not providing for expenditure on other things, but subduing his other appetites as

vain and unprofitable?” “By all means.” “He would be a squalid149 fellow,” said I, “looking for a

surplus of profit150 in everything, [554b] and a hoarder, the type the multitude approves.151

Would not this be the character of the man who corresponds to such a polity?” “I certainly think

so,” he said. “Property, at any rate, is the thing most esteemed by that state and that kind of

man.” “That, I take it,” said I, “is because he has never turned his thoughts to true culture.” “I

think not,” he said, “else he would not have made the blind152 one leader of his choir and first in

honor.153” “Well said,” I replied. “But consider this. Shall we not say that owing to this lack of

culture the appetites of the drone spring up in him, [554c] some the beggarly, others the rascally,

but that they are forcibly restrained by his general self-surveillance and self- control154?” “We

shall indeed,” he said. “Do you know, then,” said I, “to what you must look to discern the

rascalities of such men?” “To what?” he said. “To guardianships of orphans,155 and any such

opportunities of doing injustice with impunity.” “True.” “And is it not apparent by this that in

other dealings, where he enjoys the repute of a seeming just man, he by some better156 element in

himself [554d] forcibly keeps down other evil desires dwelling within,157 not persuading them

36

that it ‘is better not’158 nor taming them by reason, but by compulsion and fear, trembling for his

possessions generally.” “Quite so,” he said. “Yes, by Zeus,” said I, “my friend. In most of them,

when there is occasion to spend the money of others, you will discover the existence of drone-

like appetites.” “Most emphatically.” “Such a man, then, would not be free from internal

dissension.159 He would not be really one, but in some sort a double160 man. Yet for the most

part, [554e] his better desires would have the upper hand over the worse.” “It is so.” “And for

this reason, I presume, such a man would be more seemly, more respectable, than many others;

but the true virtue of a soul in unison and harmony161 with itself would escape him and dwell

afar.” “I think so.” “And again, the thrifty stingy man would be a feeble competitor personally

[555a] in the city for any prize of victory or in any other honorable emulation. He is unwilling to

spend money for fame and rivalries of that sort, and, fearing to awaken his prodigal desires and

call them into alliance for the winning of the victory, he fights in true oligarchical162 fashion with

a small part of his resources and is defeated for the most part and—finds himself rich!163” “Yes

indeed,” he said. “Have we any further doubt, then,” I said, “as to the correspondence and

resemblance164 between the thrifty and money-making man [555b] and the oligarchical state?”

“None,” he said.

“We have next to consider, it seems, the origin and nature of democracy, that we may next learn

the character of that type of man and range him beside the others for our judgement.165” “That

would at least be a consistent procedure.” “Then,” said I, “is not the transition from oligarchy to

democracy effected in some such way as this—by the insatiate greed for that which it set before

itself as the good,166 the attainment of the greatest possible wealth?” [555c] “In what way?”

“Why, since its rulers owe their offices to their wealth, they are not willing to prohibit by law the

prodigals who arise among the youth from spending and wasting their substance. Their object is,

by lending money on the property of such men, and buying it in, to become still richer and more

esteemed.” “By all means.” “And is it not at once apparent in a state that this honoring of wealth

is incompatible with a sober and temperate citizenship,167 [555d] but that one or the other of

these two ideals is inevitably neglected.” “That is pretty clear,” he said. “And such negligence

and encouragement of licentiousness168 in oligarchies not infrequently has reduced to poverty

men of no ignoble quality.169” “It surely has.” “And there they sit, I fancy, within the city,

furnished with stings, that is, arms, some burdened with debt, others disfranchised, others both,

37

hating and conspiring against the acquirers of their estates and the rest of the citizens, [555e] and

eager for revolution.170” “’Tis so.” “But these money-makers with down-bent heads,171

pretending not even to see172 them, but inserting the sting of their money173 into any of the

remainder who do not resist, and harvesting from them in interest as it were a manifold progeny

of the parent sum, [556a] foster the drone and pauper element in the state.” “They do indeed

multiply it,” he said. “And they are not willing to quench the evil as it bursts into flame either by

way of a law prohibiting a man from doing as he likes with his own,174 or in this way, by a

second law that does away with such abuses.” “What law?” “The law that is next best, and

compels the citizens to pay heed to virtue.175 For if a law commanded that most voluntary

contracts176 should be at the contractor's risk, [556b] the pursuit of wealth would be less

shameless in the state and fewer of the evils of which we spoke just now would grow up there.”

“Much fewer,” he said. “But as it is, and for all these reasons, this is the plight to which the

rulers in the state reduce their subjects, and as for themselves and their off-spring, do they not

make the young spoiled177 wantons averse to toil of body and mind, [556c] and too soft to stand

up against pleasure and pain,178 and mere idlers?” “Surely.” “And do they not fasten upon

themselves the habit of neglect of everything except the making of money, and as complete an

indifference to virtue as the paupers exhibit?” “Little they care.” “And when, thus conditioned,

the rulers and the ruled are brought together on the march, in wayfaring, or in some other

common undertaking, either a religious festival, or a campaign, or as shipmates or fellow-

soldiers [556d] or, for that matter, in actual battle, and observe one another, then the poor are not

in the least scorned by the rich, but on the contrary, do you not suppose it often happens that

when a lean, sinewy, sunburnt179 pauper is stationed in battle beside a rich man bred in the shade,

and burdened with superfluous flesh,180 and sees him panting and helpless181—do you not

suppose he will think that such fellows keep their wealth by the cowardice182 of the poor, and

that when the latter are together in private, [556e] one will pass the word to another ‘our men are

good for nothing’?” “Nay, I know very well that they do,” said he. “And just as an unhealthy

body requires but a slight impulse183 from outside to fall into sickness, and sometimes, even

without that, all the man is one internal war, in like manner does not the corresponding type of

state need only a slight occasion,184 the one party bringing in185 allies from an oligarchical state,

or the other from a democratic, to become diseased and wage war with itself, and sometimes

even [557a] apart from any external impulse faction arises186?” “Most emphatically.” “And a

38

democracy, I suppose, comes into being when the poor, winning the victory, put to death some of

the other party, drive out187 others, and grant the rest of the citizens an equal share188 in both

citizenship and offices—and for the most part these offices are assigned by lot.189” “Why, yes,”

he said, “that is the constitution of democracy alike whether it is established by force of arms or

by terrorism190 resulting in the withdrawal of one of the parties.”

“What, then,” said I, “is the manner of their life [557b] and what is the quality of such a

constitution? For it is plain that the man of this quality will turn out to be a democratic sort of

man.” “It is plain,” he said. “To begin with, are they not free? and is not the city chock-full of

liberty and freedom of speech? and has not every man licence191 to do as he likes?” “So it is

said,” he replied. “And where there is such licence, it is obvious that everyone would arrange a

plan192 for leading his own life in the way that pleases him.” “Obvious.” “All sorts193 and

conditions of men, [557c] then, would arise in this polity more than in any other?” “Of course.”

“Possibly,” said I, “this is the most beautiful of polities as a garment of many colors,

embroidered with all kinds of hues, so this, decked and diversified with every type of character,

would appear the most beautiful. And perhaps,” I said, “many would judge it to be the most

beautiful, like boys and women194 when they see bright-colored things.” [557d] “Yes indeed,” he

said. “Yes,” said I, “and it is the fit place, my good friend, in which to look for a constitution.”

“Why so?” “Because, owing to this licence, it includes all kinds, and it seems likely that anyone

who wishes to organize a state, as we were just now doing, must find his way to a democratic

city and select the model that pleases him, as if in a bazaar195 of constitutions, and after making

his choice, establish his own.” “Perhaps at any rate,” he said, [557e] “he would not be at a loss

for patterns.” “And the freedom from all compulsion to hold office in such a city, even if you are

qualified,196 or again, to submit to rule, unless you please, or to make war when the rest are at

war,197 or to keep the peace when the others do so, unless you desire peace; and again, the

liberty, in defiance of any law that forbids you, to hold office and sit on juries none the less,

[558a] if it occurs to you to do so, is not all that a heavenly and delicious entertainment198 for the

time being?” “Perhaps,” he said, “for so long.” “And is not the placability199 of some convicted

criminals exquisite200? Or have you never seen in such a state men condemned to death or exile

who none the less stay on, and go to and fro among the people, and as if no one saw or heeded

him, the man slips in and out201 like a revenant202?” “Yes, many,” he said. “And the tolerance of

39

democracy, [558b] its superiority203 to all our meticulous requirements, its disdain or our

solemn204 pronouncements205 made when we were founding our city, that except in the case of

transcendent206 natural gifts no one could ever become a good man unless from childhood his

play and all his pursuits were concerned with things fair and good,—how superbly207 it tramples

under foot all such ideals, caring nothing from what practices208 and way of life a man turns to

politics, but honoring him [558c] if only he says that he loves the people!209” “It is a noble210

polity, indeed!” he said. “These and qualities akin to these democracy would exhibit, and it

would, it seems, be a delightful211 form of government, anarchic and motley, assigning a kind of

equality indiscriminately to equals and unequals alike!212” “Yes,” he said, “everybody knows

that.”

“Observe, then, the corresponding private character. Or must we first, as in the case of the polity,

consider the origin of the type?” “Yes,” he said. “Is not this, then, the way of it? Our thrifty213

oligarchical man [558d] would have a son bred in his father's ways.” “Why not?” “And he, too,

would control by force all his appetites for pleasure that are wasters and not winners of wealth,

those which are denominated unnecessary.” “Obviously.” “And in order not to argue in the dark,

shall we first define214 our distinction between necessary and unnecessary appetites215?” “Let us

do so.” “Well, then, desires that we cannot divert or suppress may be properly called necessary,

[558e] and likewise those whose satisfaction is beneficial to us, may they not? For our nature

compels us to seek their satisfaction. [559a] Is not that so ?” “Most assuredly.” “Then we shall

rightly use the word ‘necessary’ of them?” “Rightly.” “And what of the desires from which a

man could free himself by discipline from youth up, and whose presence in the soul does no

good and in some cases harm? Should we not fairly call all such unnecessary?” “Fairly indeed.”

“Let us select an example of either kind, so that we may apprehend the type.216” “Let us do so.”

“Would not the desire of eating to keep in health and condition and the appetite [559b] for mere

bread and relishes217 be necessary?” “I think so.” “The appetite for bread is necessary in both

respects, in that it is beneficial and in that if it fails we die.” “Yes.” “And the desire for relishes,

so far as it conduces to fitness?” “By all means.” “And should we not rightly pronounce

unnecessary the appetite that exceeds these and seeks other varieties of food, and that by

correction218 and training from youth up can be got rid of in most cases and is harmful to the

body and a hindrance to the soul's attainment of [559c] intelligence and sobriety?” “Nay, most

40

rightly.” “And may we not call the one group the spendthrift desires and the other the

profitable,219 because they help production?” “Surely.” “And we shall say the same of sexual and

other appetites?” “The same.” “And were we not saying that the man whom we nicknamed the

drone is the man who teems220 with such pleasures and appetites, and who is governed by his

unnecessary desires, while the one who is ruled [559d] by his necessary appetites is the thrifty

oligarchical man?” “Why, surely.”

“To return, then,” said I, “we have to tell how the democratic man develops from the oligarchical

type. I think it is usually in this way.” “How?” “When a youth, bred in the illiberal and niggardly

fashion that we were describing, gets a taste of the honey of the drones and associates with

fierce221 and cunning creatures who know how to purvey pleasures of every kind and variety222

and condition, there you must doubtless conceive is the beginning [559e] of the transformation

of the oligarchy in his soul into democracy.” “Quite inevitably,” he said. “May we not say that

just as the revolution in the city was brought about by the aid of an alliance from outside, coming

to the support of the similar and corresponding party in the state, so the youth is revolutionized

when a like and kindred223 group of appetites from outside comes to the aid of one of the parties

in his soul?” “By all means,” he said. “And if, I take it, a counter-alliance224 comes to the rescue

of the oligarchical part of his soul, either it may be from his father [560a] or from his other kin,

who admonish and reproach him, then there arises faction225 and counter-faction and internal

strife in the man with himself.” “Surely.” “And sometimes, I suppose, the democratic element

retires before the oligarchical, some of its appetites having been destroyed and others226 expelled,

and a sense of awe and reverence grows up in the young man's soul and order is restored.” “That

sometimes happens,” he said. “And sometimes, again, another brood of desires akin to those

expelled [560b] are stealthily nurtured to take their place, owing to the father's ignorance of true

education, and wax numerous and strong.” “Yes, that is wont to be the way of it.” “And they tug

and pull back to the same associations and in secret intercourse engender a multitude.” “Yes

indeed.” “And in the end, I suppose, they seize the citadel227 of the young man's soul, finding it

empty and unoccupied by studies and honorable pursuits and true discourses, which are the best

watchmen [560c] and guardians228 in the minds of men who are dear to the gods.” “Much the

best,” he said. “And then false and braggart words229 and opinions charge up the height and take

their place and occupy that part of such a youth.” “They do indeed.” “And then he returns, does

41

he not, to those Lotus-eaters230 and without disguise lives openly with them. And if any

support231 comes from his kin to the thrifty element in his soul, those braggart discourses close

the gates of the royal fortress within him [560d] and refuse admission to the auxiliary force itself,

and will not grant audience as to envoys to the words of older friends in private life. And they

themselves prevail in the conflict, and naming reverence and awe ‘folly’232 thrust it forth, a

dishonored fugitive. And temperance they call ‘want of manhood’ and banish it with contumely,

and they teach that moderation and orderly expenditure are ‘rusticity’ and ‘illiberality,’ and they

combine with a gang of unprofitable and harmful appetites to drive them over the border.233”

“They do indeed.” “And when they have emptied [560e] and purged234 of all these the soul of the

youth that they have thus possessed235 and occupied, and whom they are initiating with these

magnificent and costly rites,236 they proceed to lead home from exile insolence and anarchy and

prodigality and shamelessness, resplendent237 in a great attendant choir and crowned with

garlands, and in celebration of their praises they euphemistically denominate insolence ‘good

breeding,’ licence ‘liberty,’ prodigality ‘magnificence,’ [561a] and shamelessness ‘manly spirit.’

And is it not in some such way as this,” said I, “that in his youth the transformation takes place

from the restriction to necessary desires in his education to the liberation and release of his

unnecessary and harmful desires?” “Yes, your description is most vivid,” said he. “Then, in his

subsequent life, I take it, such a one expends money and toil and time no more on his necessary

than on his unnecessary pleasures. But if it is his good fortune that the period of storm and stress

does not last too long, and as he grows older [561b] the fiercest tumult within him passes, and he

receives back a part of the banished elements and does not abandon himself altogether to the

invasion of the others, then he establishes and maintains all his pleasures on a footing of equality,

forsooth,238 and so lives turning over the guard-house239 of his soul to each as it happens along

until it is sated, as if it had drawn the lot for that office, and then in turn to another, disdaining

none but fostering them all equally.240” “Quite so.” “And he does not accept or admit into the

guard-house the words of truth when anyone tells him [561c] that some pleasures arise from

honorable and good desires, and others from those that are base,241 and that we ought to practise

and esteem the one and control and subdue the others; but he shakes his head242 at all such

admonitions and avers that they are all alike and to be equally esteemed.” “Such is indeed his

state of mind and his conduct.” “And does he not,” said I, “also live out his life in this fashion,

day by day indulging the appetite of the day, now wine-bibbing and abandoning himself to the

42

lascivious pleasing of the flute243 and again drinking only water and dieting; [561d] and at one

time exercising his body, and sometimes idling and neglecting all things, and at another time

seeming to occupy himself with philosophy. And frequently he goes in for politics and bounces

up244 and says and does whatever enters his head.245 And if military men excite his emulation,

thither he rushes, and if moneyed men, to that he turns, and there is no order or compulsion in his

existence, but he calls this life of his the life of pleasure and freedom and happiness and [561e]

cleaves to it to the end.” “That is a perfect description,” he said, “of a devotee of equality.” “I

certainly think,” said I, “that he is a manifold246 man stuffed with most excellent differences, and

that like that city247 he is the fair and many-colored one whom many a man and woman would

count fortunate in his life, as containing within himself the greatest number of patterns of

constitutions and qualities.” “Yes, that is so,” he said. [562a] “Shall we definitely assert, then,

that such a man is to be ranged with democracy and would properly be designated as

democratic?” “Let that be his place,” he said.

“And now,” said I, “the fairest248 polity and the fairest man remain for us to describe, the tyranny

and the tyrant.” “Certainly,” he said. “Come then, tell me, dear friend, how tyranny arises.249

That it is an outgrowth of democracy is fairly plain.” “Yes, plain.” “Is it, then, in a sense, in the

same way in which democracy arises out of oligarchy that tyranny arises from democracy?”

[562b] “How is that?” “The good that they proposed to themselves250 and that was the cause of

the establishment of oligarchy—it was wealth,251 was it not?” “Yes.” “Well, then, the insatiate

lust for wealth and the neglect of everything else for the sake of money-making was the cause of

its undoing.” “True,” he said. “And is not the avidity of democracy for that which is its definition

and criterion of good the thing which dissolves it252 too?” “What do you say its criterion to be?”

“Liberty,253” I replied; “for you may hear it said that this is best managed in a democratic city,

[562c] and for this reason that is the only city in which a man of free spirit will care to live.254”

“Why, yes,” he replied, “you hear that saying everywhere.” “Then, as I was about to observe,255

is it not the excess and greed of this and the neglect of all other things that revolutionizes this

constitution too and prepares the way for the necessity of a dictatorship?” “How?” he said.

“Why, when a democratic city athirst for liberty gets bad cupbearers [562d] for its leaders256 and

is intoxicated by drinking too deep of that unmixed wine,257 and then, if its so-called governors

are not extremely mild and gentle with it and do not dispense the liberty unstintedly,it chastises

43

them and accuses them of being accursed258 oligarchs.259” “Yes, that is what they do,” he replied.

“But those who obey the rulers,” I said, “it reviles as willing slaves260 and men of naught,261 but

it commends and honors in public and private rulers who resemble subjects and subjects who are

like rulers. [562e] Is it not inevitable that in such a state the spirit of liberty should go to all

lengths262?” “Of course.” “And this anarchical temper,” said I, “my friend, must penetrate into

private homes and finally enter into the very animals.263” “Just what do we mean by that?” he

said. “Why,” I said, “the father habitually tries to resemble the child and is afraid of his sons, and

the son likens himself to the father and feels no awe or fear of his parents,264 [563a] so that he

may be forsooth a free man.265 And the resident alien feels himself equal to the citizen and the

citizen to him, and the foreigner likewise.” “Yes, these things do happen,” he said. “They do,”

said I, “and such other trifles as these. The teacher in such case fears and fawns upon the pupils,

and the pupils pay no heed to the teacher or to their overseers either. And in general the young

ape their elders and vie with them in speech and action, while the old, accommodating266

themselves to the young, [563b] are full of pleasantry267 and graciousness, imitating the young

for fear they may be thought disagreeable and authoritative.” “By all means,” he said. “And the

climax of popular liberty, my friend,” I said, “is attained in such a city when the purchased

slaves, male and female, are no less free268 than the owners who paid for them. And I almost

forgot to mention the spirit of freedom and equal rights in the relation of men to women and

women to men.” [563c] “Shall we not, then,” said he, “in Aeschylean phrase,269 say “whatever

rises to our lips’?” “Certainly,” I said, “so I will. Without experience of it no one would believe

how much freer the very beasts270 subject to men are in such a city than elsewhere. The dogs

literally verify the adage271 and ‘like their mistresses become.’ And likewise the horses and asses

are wont to hold on their way with the utmost freedom and dignity, bumping into everyone who

meets them and who does not step aside.272 And so all things everywhere are just bursting with

the spirit of liberty.273” [563d] “It is my own dream274 you are telling me,” he said; “for it often

happens to me when I go to the country.” “And do you note that the sum total of all these items

when footed up is that they render the souls of the citizens so sensitive275 that they chafe at the

slightest suggestion of servitude276 and will not endure it? For you are aware that they finally pay

no heed even to the laws277 written or unwritten,278 [563e] so that forsooth they may have no

master anywhere over them.” “I know it very well,” said he.

44

“This, then, my friend,” said I, “is the fine and vigorous root from which tyranny grows, in my

opinion.” “Vigorous indeed,” he said; “but what next?” “The same malady,” I said, “that, arising

in oligarchy, destroyed it, this more widely diffused and more violent as a result of this licence,

enslaves democracy. And in truth, any excess is wont to bring about a corresponding reaction279

to the opposite in the seasons, [564a] in plants, in animal bodies,280 and most especially in

political societies.” “Probably,” he said. “And so the probable outcome of too much freedom is

only too much slavery in the individual and the state.” “Yes, that is probable.” “Probably, then,

tyranny develops out of no other constitution281 than democracy—from the height of liberty, I

take it, the fiercest extreme of servitude.” “That is reasonable,” he said. “That, however, I

believe, was not your question,282 but what identical283 malady [564b] arising in democracy as

well as in oligarchy enslaves it?” “You say truly,” he replied. “That then,” I said, “was what I

had in mind, the class of idle and spendthrift men, the most enterprising and vigorous portion

being leaders and the less manly spirits followers. We were likening them to drones,284 some

equipped with stings and others stingless.” “And rightly too,” he said. “These two kinds, then,” I

said, “when they arise in any state, create a disturbance like that produced in the body285 by

phlegm and gall. [564c] And so a good physician and lawgiver must be on his guard from afar

against the two kinds, like a prudent apiarist, first and chiefly286 to prevent their springing up, but

if they do arise to have them as quickly as may be cut out, cells and all.” “Yes, by Zeus,” he said,

“by all means.” “Then let us take it in this way,” I said, “so that we may contemplate our purpose

more distinctly.287” “How?” “Let us in our theory make a tripartite288 division of the democratic

state, which is in fact its structure. One such class, [564d] as we have described, grows up in it

because of the licence, no less than in the oligarchic state.” “That is so.” “But it is far fiercer in

this state than in that.” “How so?” “There, because it is not held in honor, but is kept out of

office, it is not exercised and does not grow vigorous. But in a democracy this is the dominating

class, with rare exceptions, and the fiercest part of it makes speeches and transacts business, and

the remainder swarms and settles about the speaker's stand and keeps up a buzzing289 and [564e]

tolerates290 no dissent, so that everything with slight exceptions is administered by that class in

such a state.” “Quite so,” he said. “And so from time to time there emerges or is secreted from

the multitude another group of this sort.” “What sort?” he said. “When all are pursuing wealth

the most orderly and thrifty natures for the most part become the richest.” “It is likely.” “Then

they are the most abundant supply of honey for the drones, and it is the easiest to extract.291”

45

“Why, yes,” he said, “how could one squeeze it out of those who have little?” “The capitalistic292

class is, I take it, the name by which they are designated—the pasture of the drones.” “Pretty

much so,” he said. [565a]

“And the third class,293 composing the ‘people,’ would comprise all quiet294 cultivators of their

own farms295 who possess little property. This is the largest and most potent group in a

democracy when it meets in assembly.” “Yes, it is,” he said, “but it will not often do that,296

unless it gets a share of the honey.” “Well, does it not always share,” I said, “to the extent that

the men at the head find it possible, in distributing297 to the people what they take from the well-

to-do,298 to keep the lion's share for themselves299?” “Why, yes,” he said, “it shares [565b] in that

sense.” “And so, I suppose, those who are thus plundered are compelled to defend themselves by

speeches in the assembly and any action in their power.” “Of course.” “And thereupon the

charge is brought against them by the other party, though they may have no revolutionary

designs, that they are plotting against the people, and it is said that they are oligarchs.300”

“Surely.” “And then finally, when they see the people, not of its own will301 but through

misapprehension,302 and being misled [565c] by the calumniators, attempting to wrong them,

why then,303 whether they wish it or not,304 they become in very deed oligarchs, not willingly,

but this evil too is engendered by those drones which sting them.” “Precisely.” “And then there

ensue impeachments and judgements and lawsuits on either side.” “Yes, indeed.” “And is it not

always the way of a demos to put forward one man as its special champion and protector305 and

cherish and magnify him?” “Yes, it is.” “This, then, is plain,” [565d] said I, “that when a tyrant

arises he sprouts from a protectorate root306 and from nothing else.” “Very plain.” “What, then, is

the starting-point of the transformation of a protector into a tyrant? Is it not obviously when the

protector's acts begin to reproduce the legend that is told of the shrine of Lycaean Zeus in

Arcadia307?” “What is that?” he said. “The story goes that he who tastes of the one bit of human

entrails minced up with those of other victims [565e] is inevitably transformed into a wolf. Have

you not heard the tale?” “I have.” “And is it not true that in like manner a leader of the people

who, getting control of a docile mob,308 does not withhold his hand from the shedding of tribal

blood,309 but by the customary unjust accusations brings a citizen into court and assassinates him,

blotting out310 a human life, and with unhallowed tongue and lips that have tasted kindred blood,

[566a] banishes and slays and hints at the abolition of debts and the partition of lands311—is it

46

not the inevitable consequence and a decree of fate312 that such a one be either slain by his

enemies or become a tyrant and be transformed from a man into a wolf?” “It is quite inevitable,”

he said. “He it is,” I said, “who becomes the leader of faction against the possessors of

property.313” “Yes, he.” “May it not happen that he is driven into exile and, being restored in

defiance of his enemies, returns a finished tyrant?” “Obviously.” “And if they are unable [566b]

to expel him or bring about his death by calumniating him to the people, they plot to assassinate

him by stealth.” “That is certainly wont to happen,” said he. “And thereupon those who have

reached this stage devise that famous petition314 of the tyrant—to ask from the people a

bodyguard to make their city safe315 for the friend of democracy.” [566c] “They do indeed,” he

said. “And the people grant it, I suppose, fearing for him but unconcerned for themselves.” “Yes,

indeed.” “And when he sees this, the man who has wealth and with his wealth the repute of

hostility to democracy,316 then in the words of the oracle delivered to Croesus,“By the pebble-

strewn strand of the Hermos Swift is his flight, he stays not nor blushes to show the white

feather.””Hdt. 1.55 “No, for he would never get a second chance to blush.” “And he who is

caught, methinks, is delivered to his death.” “Inevitably.” “And then obviously that protector

does not lie prostrate, “‘mighty with far-flung limbs,’”Hom. Il. 16.776 in Homeric overthrow,317

but [566d] overthrowing many others towers in the car of state318 transformed from a protector

into a perfect and finished tyrant.” “What else is likely?” he said.

“Shall we, then, portray the happiness,” said I, “of the man and the state in which such a creature

arises?” “By all means let us describe it,” he said. “Then at the start and in the first days does he

not smile319 upon all men and greet everybody he meets and deny that he is a tyrant, [566e] and

promise many things in private and public, and having freed men from debts, and distributed

lands to the people and his own associates, he affects a gracious and gentle manner to all?”

“Necessarily,” he said. “But when, I suppose, he has come to terms with some of his exiled

enemies320 and has got others destroyed and is no longer disturbed by them, in the first place he

is always stirring up some war321 so that the people may be in need of a leader.” “That is likely.”

[567a] “And also that being impoverished by war-taxes they may have to devote themselves to

their daily business and be less likely to plot against him?” “Obviously.” “And if, I presume, he

suspects that there are free spirits who will not suffer his domination, his further object is to find

pretexts for destroying them by exposing them to the enemy? From all these motives a tyrant is

47

compelled to be always provoking wars322?” “Yes, he is compelled to do so.” “And by such

conduct [567b] will he not the more readily incur the hostility of the citizens?” “Of course.”

“And is it not likely that some of those who helped to establish323 and now share in his power,

voicing their disapproval of the course of events, will speak out frankly to him and to one

another—such of them as happen to be the bravest?” “Yes, it is likely.” “Then the tyrant must do

away324 with all such if he is to maintain his rule, until he has left no one of any worth, friend or

foe.” “Obviously.” “He must look sharp to see, then, [567c] who is brave, who is great-souled,

who is wise, who is rich and such is his good fortune that, whether he wishes it or not, he must

be their enemy and plot against them all until he purge the city.325” “A fine purgation,” he said.

“Yes,” said I, “just the opposite of that which physicians practise on our bodies. For while they

remove the worst and leave the best, he does the reverse.” “Yes, for apparently he must, he said,

“if he is to keep his power.”

“Blessed, then, is the necessity that binds him,” [567d] said I, “which bids him dwell for the

most part with base companions who hate him, or else forfeit his life.” “Such it is,” he said. “And

would he not, the more he offends the citizens by such conduct, have the greater need of more

and more trustworthy bodyguards?” “Of course.” “Whom, then, may he trust, and whence shall

he fetch them?” “Unbidden,” he said, “they will wing their way326 to him in great numbers if he

furnish their wage.” “Drones, by the dog,” I said, “I think you are talking of again, [567e] an

alien327 and motley crew.328” “You think rightly,” he said. “But what of the home supply,329

would he not choose to employ that?” “How?” “By taking their slaves from the citizens,

emancipating them and enlisting them in his bodyguard.” “Assuredly,” he said, “since these are

those whom he can most trust.” “Truly,” said I, “this tyrant business330 is a blessed331 thing on

your showing, if such are the friends and ‘trusties’ [568a] he must employ after destroying his

former associates.” “But such are indeed those he does make use of,” he said. “And these

companions admire him,” I said, “and these new citizens are his associates, while the better sort

hate and avoid him.” “Why should they not?” “Not for nothing,332” said I, “is tragedy in general

esteemed wise, and Euripides beyond other tragedians.333” “Why, pray?” “Because among other

utterances of pregnant thought334 he said, [568b] ‘Tyrants are wise by converse with the wise.335’

He meant evidently that these associates of the tyrant are the wise.” “Yes, he and the other

poets,” he said, “call the tyrant's power ‘likest God's’336 and praise it in many other ways.”

48

“Wherefore,” said I, “being wise as they are, the poets of tragedy will pardon us and those whose

politics resemble ours for not admitting them337 into our polity, since they hymn the praises of

tyranny.” “I think,” he said, “that the subtle minds338 [568c] among them will pardon us.” “But

going about to other cities, I fancy, collecting crowds and hiring fine, loud, persuasive voices,339

they draw the polities towards tyrannies or democracies.” “Yes, indeed.” “And, further, they are

paid and honored for this, chiefly, as is to be expected, by tyrants, and secondly by democracy.340

But the higher they go, breasting constitution hill, the more their honor fails, [568d] as it were

from lack of breath341 unable to proceed.” “Quite so.”

“But this,” said I, “is a digression.342 Let us return to that fair, multitudinous, diversified and

ever-changing bodyguard of the tyrant and tell how it will be supported.” “Obviously,” he said,

“if there are sacred treasures in the city he will spend these as long as they last and the property

of those he has destroyed, thus requiring smaller contributions from the populace.” [568e] “But

what when these resources fail343?” “Clearly,” he said, “his father's estate will have to support

him and his wassailers, his fellows and his she-fellows.” “I understand,” I said, “that the people

which begot the tyrant344 will have to feed him and his companions.” “It cannot escape from

that,” he said. “And what have you to say,” I said, “in case the people protests and says that it is

not right that a grown-up son should be supported by his father, but the reverse, [569a] and that it

did not beget and establish him in order that, when he had grown great, it, in servitude to its own

slaves, should feed him and the slaves together with a nondescript rabble of aliens, but in order

that, with him for protector, it might be liberated from the rule of the rich and the so-called

‘better classes,’345 and that it now bids him and his crew depart from the city as a father expels346

from his house a son together with troublesome revellers?” “The demos, by Zeus,” he said, “will

then learn to its cost347 [569b] what it is and what348 a creature it begot and cherished and bred to

greatness, and that in its weakness it tries to expel the stronger.” “What do you mean?” said I;

“will the tyrant dare to use force against his father, and, if he does not yield, to strike him349?”

“Yes,” he said, “after he has once taken from him his arms.” “A very parricide,” said I, “you

make the tyrant out to be, and a cruel nurse of old age, and, as it seems, this is at last tyranny

open and avowed, and, as the saying goes, the demos trying to escape the smoke of submission

to the free would have plunged [569c] into the fire350 of enslavement to slaves, and in exchange

for that excessive and unseasonable liberty351 has clothed itself in the garb of the most cruel and

49

bitter servile servitude.352” “Yes indeed,” he said, “that is just what happens.” “Well, then,” said

I, “shall we not be fairly justified in saying that we have sufficiently described the transformation

of a democracy into a tyranny and the nature of the tyranny itself?” “Quite sufficiently,” he said.