Socrates “And there will be the further advantage in such a law that an angry man, satisfying his anger in such wise, would be less likely to carry the quarrel to further extremes.” “Assuredly.” “As for an older man, he will always have the charge of ruling and chastising the younger.” “Obviously.” “Again, it is plain that the young man, except by command of the rulers, will probably not do violence to an elder or strike him, or, I take it, dishonor him in any other way. Two guardians sufficient to prevent that

Socrates there are, fear and awe, awe restraining him from laying hands on one who may be his parent, and fear in that the others will rush to the aid of the sufferer, some as sons, some as brothers, some as fathers.” “That is the way it works out,” he said. “Then in all cases the laws will leave these men to dwell in peace together.” “Great peace.” “And if these are free from dissensions among themselves, there is no fear that the rest of the city will ever start faction against them or with one another.” “No, there is not.”

Socrates “But I hesitate, so unseemly are they, even to mention the pettiest troubles of which they would be rid, the flatterings of the rich, the embarrassments and pains of the poor in the bringing-up of their children and the procuring of money for the necessities of life for their households, the borrowings, the repudiations, all the devices with which they acquire what they deposit with wives and servitors to husband, and all the indignities that they endure in such matters, which are obvious and

Socrates ignoble and not deserving of mention.” “Even a blind man can see these,” he said.

“From all these, then, they will be finally free, and they will live a happier life than that men count most happy, the life of the victors at Olympia.” “How so?” “The things for which those are felicitated are a small part of what is secured for these. Their victory is fairer and their public support more complete. For the prize of victory that they win is the salvation of the entire state, the fillet that binds their brows is the public support of themselves and their children—

they receive honor from the city while they live and when they die a worthy burial.” “A fair guerdon, indeed,” he said.

Socrates “Do you recall,” said I, “that in the preceding argument the objection of somebody or other rebuked us for not making our guardians happy,

Socrates since, though it was in their power to have everything of the citizens, they had nothing, and we, I believe, replied that this was a consideration to which we would return if occasion offered, but that at present we were making our guardians guardians and the city as a whole as happy as possible, and that we were not modelling our ideal of happiness with reference to any one class?” “I do remember,” he said. “Well then, since now the life of our helpers has been shown to be fairer and better than that of the victors at Olympia,

Socrates need we compare it with the life of cobblers and other craftsmen and farmers?” “I think not,” he said. “But further, we may fairly repeat what I was saying then also, that if the guardian shall strive for a kind of happiness that will unmake him as a guardian and shall not be content with the way of life that is moderate and secure and, as we affirm, the best, but if some senseless and childish opinion about happiness shall beset him and impel him to use his power to appropriate

Socrates everything in the city for himself, then he will find out that Hesiod was indeed wise, who said that the half was in some sort more than the whole. ” “If he accepts my counsel,” he said, “he will abide in this way of life.” “You accept, then, as we have described it, this partnership of the women with our men in the matter of education and children and the guardianship of the other citizens, and you admit that both within the city and when they go forth to war they ought to keep guard together and hunt together as it were like hounds,

Socrates and have all things in every way, so far as possible, in common, and that so doing they will do what is for the best and nothing that is contrary to female human nature in comparison with male or to their natural fellowship with one another.” “I do admit it,” he said.

“Then,” I said, “is not the thing that it remains to determine this, whether, namely, it is possible for such a community to be brought about among men as it is in the other animals, and in what way it is possible?” “You have anticipated,” he said, “the point I was about to raise.” “For as for their wars,” I said,

“the manner in which they will conduct them is too obvious for discussion.” “How so,” said he. “It is obvious that they will march out together, and, what is more, will conduct their children to war when they are sturdy, in order that, like the children of other craftsmen, they may observe the processes of which they must be masters in their maturity;”

Socrates “and in addition to looking on

Socrates they must assist and minister in all the business of war and serve their fathers and mothers. Or have you never noticed the practice in the arts, how for example the sons of potters look on as helpers a long time before they put their hands to the clay?” “They do, indeed.” “Should these then be more concerned than our guardians to train the children by observation and experience of what is to be their proper business?” “That would be ridiculous,” he said. “But, further, when it comes to fighting,

Socrates every creature will do better in the presence of its offspring?” “That is so, but the risk, Socrates, is not slight, in the event of disasters such as may happen in war, that, losing their children as well as themselves, they make it impossible for the remnant of the state to recover.” “What you say is true,” I replied; “but, in the first place, is it your idea that the one thing for which we must provide is the avoidance of all danger?” “By no means.” “And, if they are to take chances, should it not be for something success in which will make them better?”

Socrates “Clearly.” “Do you think it makes a slight difference and not worth some risk whether men who are to be warriors do or do not observe war as boys?” “No, it makes a great difference for the purpose of which you speak.” “Starting, then, from this assumption that we are to make the boys spectators of war, we must further contrive security for them and all will be well, will it not?” “Yes.” “To begin with, then,” said I, “will not the fathers be, humanly speaking, not ignorant of war

Socrates and shrewd judges of which campaigns are hazardous and which not?” “Presumably,” he said. “They will take the boys with them to the one and avoid the others?” “Rightly.” “And for officers, I presume,” said I, “they will put in charge of them not those who are good for nothing else but men who by age and experience are qualified to serve at once as leaders and as caretakers of children.” “Yes, that would be the proper way.” “Still, we may object, it is the unexpected that happens to many in many cases.” “Yes, indeed.” “To provide against such chances, then, we must wing the children from the start so that if need arises they may fly away and escape.”

Socrates “What do you mean?” he said. “We must mount them when very young,” said I, “and first have them taught to ride, and then conduct them to the scene of war, not on mettlesome war-steeds, but on the swiftest and gentlest horses possible; for thus they will have the best view of their own future business and also, if need arises, will most securely escape to safety in the train of elder guides.” “I think you are right,” he said.

Socrates “But now what of the conduct of war? What should be the attitude of the soldiers to one another and the enemy? Am I right in my notions or not?” “Tell me what notions,” he said. “Anyone of them who deserts his post, or flings away his weapons, or is guilty of any similar act of cowardice, should be reduced to the artisan or farmer class, should he not?” “By all means.” “And anyone who is taken alive by the enemy we will make a present of to his captors, shall we not, to deal with their catch

Socrates as they please?” “Quite so.” “And don’t you agree that the one who wins the prize of valor and distinguishes himself shall first be crowned by his fellows in the campaign, by the lads and boys each in turn?” “I do.” “And be greeted with the right hand?” “That, too.” “But I presume you wouldn’t go as far as this?” “What?” “That he should kiss and be kissed by everyone?” “By all means,” he said, “and I add to the law the provision that during that

Socrates campaign none whom he wishes to kiss be allowed to refuse, so that if one is in love with anyone, male or female, he may be the more eager to win the prize.” “Excellent,” said I, “and we have already said that the opportunity of marriage will be more readily provided for the good man, and that he will be more frequently selected than the others for participation in that sort of thing, in order that as many children as possible may be born from such stock.” “We have,” he replied.

“But, furthermore, we may cite Homer

too for the justice of honoring in such ways the valiant among our youth. For Homer says that Ajax, who had distinguished himself in the war, was honored with the long chine, assuming that the most fitting meed for a brave man in the prime of his youth is that from which both honor and strength will accrue to him.” “Most rightly,” he said. “We will then,” said I, “take Homer as our guide in this at least. We, too, at sacrifices and on other like occasions, will reward the good so far as they have proved themselves good with hymns and the other privileges of which we have just spoken,

and also with seats of honor and meat and full cups , so as to combine physical training with honor for the good, both men and women.” “Nothing could be better,” he said. “Very well; and of those who die on campaign, if anyone’s death has been especially glorious, shall we not, to begin with, affirm that he belongs to the golden race?” “By all means.”