Complete Works (233 page)

I remember.

Well, then, if the life of our auxiliaries is apparently much finer and better than that of Olympian victors, is there any need to compare it to the lives of cobblers, farmers, or other craftsmen? [b]

Not in my opinion.

Then it’s surely right to repeat here what I said then: If a guardian seeks happiness in such a way that he’s no longer a guardian and isn’t satisfied with a life that’s moderate, stable, and—as we say—best, but a silly, adolescent idea of happiness seizes him and incites him to use his power to take everything in the city for himself, he’ll come to know the true wisdom of [c] Hesiod’s saying that somehow “the half is worth more than the whole.”
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If he takes my advice, he’ll keep to his own life-style.

You agree, then, that the women and men should associate with one another in education, in things having to do with children, and in guarding the other citizens in the way we’ve described; that both when they remain in the city and when they go to war, they must guard together and hunt together like dogs and share in everything as far as possible; and that by [d] doing so they’ll be doing what’s best and not something contrary either to woman’s nature as compared with man’s or to the natural association of men and women with one another.

I agree.

Then doesn’t it remain for us to determine whether it’s possible to bring about this association among human beings, as it is among animals, and to say just how it might be done?

You took the words right out of my mouth.

[e] As far as war is concerned, I think it’s clear how they will wage it.

How so?

Men and women will campaign together. They’ll take the sturdy children with them, so that, like the children of other craftsmen, they can see what they’ll have to do when they grow up. But in addition to observing, they can serve and assist in everything to do with the war and help their mothers
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and fathers. Haven’t you noticed in the other crafts how the children of potters, for example, assist and observe for a long time before actually making any pots?

I have indeed.

And should these craftsmen take more care in training their children by appropriate experience and observation than the guardians?

Of course not; that would be completely ridiculous.

[b] Besides, every animal fights better in the presence of its young.

That’s so. But, Socrates, there’s a considerable danger that in a defeat—and such things are likely to happen in a war—they’ll lose their children’s lives as well as their own, making it impossible for the rest of the city to recover.

What you say is true. But do you think that the first thing we should provide for is the avoidance of all danger?

Not at all.

Well, then, if people will probably have to face some danger, shouldn’t it be the sort that will make them better if they come through it successfully?

Obviously.

And do you think that whether or not men who are going to be warriors observe warfare when they’re still boys makes such a small difference that [c] it isn’t worth the danger of having them do it?

No, it does make a difference to what you’re talking about.

On the assumption, then, that the children are to be observers of war, if we can contrive some way to keep them secure, everything will be fine, won’t it?

Yes.

Well, then, in the first place, their fathers won’t be ignorant, will they, about which campaigns are dangerous and which are not, but rather as [d] knowledgeable about this as any human beings can be?

Probably so.

Then they’ll take the children to some campaigns and not to others?

Correct.

And they’ll put officers in charge of them whose age and experience qualifies them to be leaders and tutors?

Appropriately so.

But, as we say, the unexpected often occurs.

Indeed.

With this in mind, we must provide the children with wings when they’re small, so that they can fly away and escape.

What do you mean? [e]

We must mount them on horses as early as possible—not on spirited or aggressive horses, but on very fast and manageable ones—and when they’ve learned to ride, they must be taken to observe a war. In this way, they’ll get the best look at their own work and, if the need arises, make the securest possible escape to safety, following their older guides.

I think you’re right.

What about warfare itself? What attitude should your soldiers have to
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each other and to the enemy? Are my views about this right or not?

First, tell me what they are.

If one of them leaves his post or throws away his shield or does anything else of that sort through cowardice, shouldn’t he be reduced to being a craftsman or farmer?

Certainly.

And shouldn’t anyone who is captured alive be left to his captors as a gift to do with as they wish?

Absolutely. [b]

But don’t you think that anyone who distinguishes himself and earns high esteem should, while still on the campaign, first be crowned with wreaths by each of the adolescents and children who accompany the expedition?

I do.

And what about shaken by the right hand?

That too.

But I suppose that you wouldn’t go this far?

Namely?

That he should kiss and be kissed by each of them.

That most of all. And I’d add this to the law: As long as the campaign lasts, no one he wants to kiss shall be allowed to refuse, for then, if one of them happens to be in love with another, whether male or female, he’ll [c] be all the more eager to win the rewards of valor.

Excellent. And we’ve already stated that, since he’s a good person, more marriages will be available to him, and he’ll be selected for such things more frequently than the others, so that he’ll beget as many children as possible.

Yes, we did say that.

Indeed, according to Homer too, it is just to honor in such ways those young people who are good, for he says that Ajax, when he distinguished himself in battle, “was rewarded with the long cut off the backbone.” And [d] that’s an appropriate honor for a courageous young man, since it will both honor him and increase his strength.

That’s absolutely right.

Then we’ll follow Homer in these matters at least. And insofar as good people have shown themselves to be good, we’ll honor them at sacrifices and all such occasions with hymns, “seats of honor, meats, and well-filled cups of wine,”
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and in all the other ways we mentioned, so that, in addition [e] to honoring good men and women, we’ll continue to train them.

That’s excellent.

All right. And as for those who died on the campaign, won’t we say, first of all, that, if their deaths were distinguished, they belong to the golden race?

That above all.

And won’t we believe with Hesiod that, whenever any of that race die, they become

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Sacred daemons living upon the earth,
Noble spirits, protectors against evil, guardians of articulate mortals?
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We’ll certainly believe that.

Then we’ll inquire from the god
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what kind of distinguished funeral we should give to daemonic and godlike people, and we’ll follow his instructions. Of course.

And for the remainder of time, we’ll care for their graves and worship at them as we would at those of daemons. And we’ll follow the same rites [b] for anyone whom we judge to have lived an outstandingly good life, whether he died of old age or in some other way.

That is only just.

Now, what about enemies? How will our soldiers deal with them?

In what respect?

First, enslavement. Do you think it is just for Greeks to enslave Greek cities, or, as far as they can, should they not even allow other cities to do so, and make a habit of sparing the Greek race, as a precaution against [c] being enslaved by the barbarians?

It’s altogether and in every way best to spare the Greek race.

Then isn’t it also best for the guardians not to acquire a Greek slave and to advise the other Greeks not to do so either?

Absolutely. In that way they’d be more likely to turn against the barbarians and keep their hands off one another.

What about despoiling the dead? Is it a good thing to strip the dead of anything besides their armor after a victory? Or don’t cowards make this [d] an excuse for not facing the enemy—as if they were doing something of vital importance in bending over a corpse? And haven’t many armies been lost because of such plundering?

Indeed, they have.

Don’t you think it’s slavish and money-loving to strip a corpse? Isn’t it small-minded and womanish to regard the body as your enemy, when the enemy himself has flitted away, leaving behind only the instrument with which he fought? Or do you think such behavior any different from that of dogs who get angry with the stone that hits them and leave the [e] thrower alone?

It’s no different at all.

Then may our soldiers strip corpses or refuse the enemy permission to pick up their dead?

No, by god, they certainly may not.

Moreover, we won’t take enemy arms to the temples as offerings, and if we care about the goodwill of other Greeks, we especially won’t do this with
their
arms. Rather we’d be afraid of polluting the temples if we
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brought them such things from our own people, unless, of course, the god tells us otherwise.

That’s absolutely right.

What about ravaging the land of the Greeks and burning their houses? Will your soldiers do things of this sort to their enemies?

I’d like to hear
your
opinion about that.

Well, I think they should do neither of these things but destroy the year’s harvest only. Do you want me to tell you why? [b]

Of course.

It seems to me that as we have two names, “war” and “civil war,” so there are two things and the names apply to two kinds of disagreements arising in them. The two things I’m referring to are what is one’s own and akin, on the one hand, and what’s foreign and strange, on the other. The name “civil war” applies to hostilities with one’s own, while “war” applies to hostilities with strangers.

That’s certainly to the point.

Then see whether this is also to the point: I say that the Greek race is its own and akin, but is strange and foreign to barbarians. [c]

That’s right.

Then when Greeks do battle with barbarians or barbarians with Greeks, we’ll say that they’re natural enemies and that such hostilities are to be called war. But when Greeks fight with Greeks, we’ll say that they are natural friends and that in such circumstances Greece is sick and divided into factions and that such hostilities are to be called civil war. [d]

I, at any rate, agree to think of it that way.

Now, notice that, wherever something of the sort that’s currently called civil war occurs and a city is divided, if either party ravages the land of the others and burns their houses, it’s thought that this is abominable and that neither party loves their city, since otherwise they’d never have ravaged their very nurse and mother. However, it
is
thought appropriate for the victors to carry off the harvest of the vanquished. Nonetheless, their attitude of mind should be that of people who’ll one day be reconciled [e] and who won’t always be at war.

This way of thinking is far more civilized than the other.

What about the city you’re founding? It is Greek, isn’t it?

It has to be.

Then, won’t your citizens be good and civilized?

Indeed they will.

Then, won’t they love Greece? Won’t they consider Greece as their own and share the religion of the other Greeks?

Yes, indeed.

Then won’t they consider their differences with Greeks—people who
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are their own—not as war but as civil war?

Of course.

And won’t they quarrel like people who know that one day they’ll be reconciled?

Certainly.

Then they’ll moderate their foes in a friendly spirit, not punish them with enslavement and destruction, for they’re moderators, not enemies.

That’s right.

And being Greeks, they won’t ravage Greece or burn her houses, nor will they agree that in any of her cities all the inhabitants—men, women, and children—are their enemies, but that whatever differences arise are caused by the few enemies that any city inevitably contains. Because of this, because the majority are friendly, they won’t ravage the country or [b] destroy the houses, and they’ll continue their quarrel only to the point at which those who caused it are forced to pay the penalty by those who were its innocent victims.

I agree that this is the way our citizens must treat their enemies, and they must treat barbarians the way Greeks currently treat each other.

Then shall we also impose this law on the guardians: Neither ravage [c] the country nor burn the houses?

Consider it imposed. And let’s also assume that this law and its predecessors are all fine. But I think, Socrates, that if we let you go on speaking about this subject, you’ll never remember the one you set aside in order to say all this, namely, whether it’s possible for this constitution to come into being and in what way it could be brought about. I agree that, if it existed, all the things we’ve mentioned would be good for the city in which they occurred. And I’ll add some that you’ve left out. The guardians would be excellent fighters against an enemy because they’d be least likely to desert each other, since they know each other as brothers, fathers, and [d] sons, and call each other by those names. Moreover, if their women joined their campaigns, either in the same ranks or positioned in the rear to frighten the enemy and in case their help should ever be needed, I know that this would make them quite unbeatable. And I also see all the good things that they’d have at home that you’ve omitted. Take it that I agree [e] that all these things would happen, as well as innumerable others, if this kind of constitution came into being, and say no more on that subject. But rather let’s now try to convince ourselves that it is possible and how it is possible, and let the rest go.