Complete Works (248 page)

Absolutely.

The utmost freedom for the majority is reached in such a city when bought slaves, both male and female, are no less free than those who bought them. And I almost forgot to mention the extent of the legal equality of men and women and of the freedom in the relations between them.

What about the animals? Are we, with Aeschylus, going to “say whatever it was that came to our lips just now” about them? [c]

Certainly. I put it this way: No one who hasn’t experienced it would believe how much freer domestic animals are in a democratic city than anywhere else. As the proverb says, dogs become like their mistresses; horses and donkeys are accustomed to roam freely and proudly along the streets, bumping into anyone who doesn’t get out of their way; and all [d] the rest are equally full of freedom.

You’re telling me what I already know. I’ve often experienced that sort of thing while travelling in the country.

To sum up: Do you notice how all these things together make the citizens’ souls so sensitive that, if anyone even puts upon
himself
the least degree of slavery, they become angry and cannot endure it. And in the end, as you know, they take no notice of the laws, whether written or unwritten, [e] in order to avoid having any master at all.

I certainly do.

This, then, is the fine and impetuous origin from which tyranny seems to me to evolve.

It is certainly impetuous. But what comes next?

The same disease that developed in oligarchy and destroyed it also develops here, but it is more widespread and virulent because of the general permissiveness, and it eventually enslaves democracy. In fact, excessive action in one direction usually sets up a reaction in the opposite direction. This happens in seasons, in plants, in bodies, and, last but not
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least, in constitutions.

That’s to be expected.

Extreme freedom can’t be expected to lead to anything but a change to extreme slavery, whether for a private individual or for a city.

No, it can’t.

Then I don’t suppose that tyranny evolves from any constitution other than democracy—the most severe and cruel slavery from the utmost freedom.

Yes, that’s reasonable.

But I don’t think that was your question. You asked what was the disease [b] that developed in oligarchy and also in democracy, enslaving it.

That’s true.

And what I had in mind as an answer was that class of idle and extravagant men, whose bravest members are leaders and the more cowardly ones followers. We compared them to stinged and stingless drones, respectively.

That’s right.

Now, these two groups cause problems in any constitution, just as phlegm and bile do in the body. And it’s against them that the good doctor [c] and lawgiver of a city must take advance precautions, first, to prevent their presence and, second, to cut them out of the hive as quickly as possible, cells and all, if they should happen to be present.

Yes, by god, he must cut them out altogether.

Then let’s take up the question in the following way, so that we can see what we want more clearly.

In what way?

Let’s divide a democratic city into three parts in theory, this being the way that it is in fact divided. One part is this class of idlers, that grows [d] here no less than in an oligarchy, because of the general permissiveness.

So it does.

But it is far fiercer in democracy than in the other.

How so?

In an oligarchy it is fierce because it’s disdained, but since it is prevented from having a share in ruling, it doesn’t get any exercise and doesn’t become vigorous. In a democracy, however, with a few exceptions, this class is the dominant one. Its fiercest members do all the talking and acting, while the rest settle near the speaker’s platform and buzz and refuse to tolerate the opposition of another speaker, so that, under a democratic constitution, with the few exceptions I referred to before, this class manages everything. [e]

That’s right.

Then there’s a second class that always distinguishes itself from the majority of people.

Which is that?

When everybody is trying to make money, those who are naturally most organized generally become the wealthiest.

Probably so.

Then they would provide the most honey for the drones and the honey that is most easily extractable by them.

Yes, for how could anyone extract it from those who have very little?

Then I suppose that these rich people are called drone-fodder.

Something like that.

The people—those who work with their own hands—are the third class. They take no part in politics and have few possessions, but, when
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they are assembled, they are the largest and most powerful class in a democracy.

They are. But they aren’t willing to assemble often unless they get a share of the honey.

And they always do get a share, though the leaders, in taking the wealth of the rich and distributing it to the people, keep the greater part for themselves.

Yes, that is the way the people get their share. [b]

And I suppose that those whose wealth is taken away are compelled to defend themselves by speaking before the people and doing whatever else they can.

Of course.

And they’re accused by the drones of plotting against the people and of being oligarchs, even if they have no desire for revolution at all.

That’s right.

So in the end, when they see the people trying to harm them, they truly do become oligarchs and embrace oligarchy’s evils, whether they want to [c] or not. But neither group does these things willingly. Rather the people act as they do because they are ignorant and are deceived by the drones, and the rich act as they do because they are driven to it by the stinging of those same drones.

Absolutely.

And then there are impeachments, judgments, and trials on both sides.

That’s right.

Now, aren’t the people always in the habit of setting up one man as their special champion, nurturing him and making him great?

They are.

[d] And it’s clear that, when a tyrant arises, this special leadership is the sole root from which he sprouts.

It is.

What is the beginning of the transformation from leader of the people to tyrant? Isn’t it clear that it happens when the leader begins to behave like the man in the story told about the temple of the Lycean Zeus
¹³
in Arcadia?

What story is that?

That anyone who tastes the one piece of human innards that’s chopped up with those of other sacrificial victims must inevitably become a wolf. [e] Haven’t you heard that story?

I have.

Then doesn’t the same happen with a leader of the people who dominates a docile mob and doesn’t restrain himself from spilling kindred blood? He brings someone to trial on false charges and murders him (as tyrants so often do), and, by thus blotting out a human life, his impious tongue and lips taste kindred citizen blood. He banishes some, kills others, and drops hints to the people about the cancellation of debts and the redistribution
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of land. And because of these things, isn’t a man like that inevitably fated either to be killed by his enemies or to be transformed from a man into a wolf by becoming a tyrant?

It’s completely inevitable.

He’s the one who stirs up civil wars against the rich.

He is.

And if he’s exiled but manages, despite his enemies, to return, doesn’t he come back as a full-fledged tyrant?

Clearly.

And if these enemies are unable to expel him or to put him to death by [b] accusing him before the city, they plot secretly to kill him.

That’s usually what happens at least.

And all who’ve reached this stage soon discover the famous request of the tyrant, namely, that the people give him a bodyguard to keep their defender safe for them.

That’s right.

And the people give it to him, I suppose, because they
are
afraid for his safety but aren’t worried at all about their own.

[c] That’s right.

And when a wealthy man sees this and is charged with being an enemy of the people because of his wealth, then, as the oracle to Croesus put it, he

Flees to the banks of the many-pebbled Hermus,
Neither staying put nor being ashamed of his cowardice.

He wouldn’t get a second chance of being ashamed.

That’s true, for if he was caught, he’d be executed.

He most certainly would.

But, as for the leader, he doesn’t lie on the ground “mighty in his might,”
¹⁴
but, having brought down many others, he stands in the city’s chariot, a complete tyrant rather than a leader. [d]

What else?

Then let’s describe the happiness of this man and of the city in which a mortal like him comes to be.

Certainly, let’s do so.

During the first days of his reign and for some time after, won’t he smile in welcome at anyone he meets, saying that he’s no tyrant, making all sorts of promises both in public and in private, freeing the people from debt, redistributing the land to them and to his followers, and pretending [e] to be gracious and gentle to all?

He’d have to.

But I suppose that, when he has dealt with his exiled enemies by making peace with some and destroying others, so that all is quiet on that front, the first thing he does is to stir up a war, so that the people will continue to feel the need of a leader.

Probably so.

But also so that they’ll become poor through having to pay war taxes, for that way they’ll have to concern themselves with their daily needs and
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be less likely to plot against him.

Clearly.

Besides, if he suspects some people of having thoughts of freedom and of not favoring his rule, can’t he find a pretext for putting them at the mercy of the enemy in order to destroy them? And for all these reasons, isn’t it necessary for a tyrant to be always stirring up war?

It is.

And because of this, isn’t he all the more readily hated by the citizens? [b]

Of course.

Moreover, don’t the bravest of those who helped to establish his tyranny and who hold positions of power within it speak freely to each other and to him, criticizing what’s happening?

They probably do.

Then the tyrant will have to do away with all of them if he intends to rule, until he’s left with neither friend nor enemy of any worth.

Clearly.

He must, therefore, keep a sharp lookout for anyone who is brave, large-minded, knowledgeable, or rich. And so happy is he that he must be the [c] enemy of them all, whether he wants to be or not, and plot against them until he has purged them from the city.

That’s a fine sort of purge!

Yes, for it’s the opposite of the one that doctors perform on the body. They draw off the worst and leave the best, but he does just the opposite.

Yet I expect he’ll have to do this, if he’s really going to rule.

[d] It’s a blessedly happy necessity he’s bound by, since it requires him either to live with the inferior majority, even though they hate him, or not to live at all.

Yet that’s exactly his condition.

And won’t he need a larger and more loyal bodyguard, the more his actions make the citizens hate him?

Of course.

And who will these trustworthy people be? And where will he get them from?

They’ll come swarming of their own accord, if he pays them.

Drones, by the dog! All manner of foreign drones! That’s what I think [e] you’re talking about.

You’re right.

But what about in the city itself? Wouldn’t he be willing …

Willing to what?

To deprive citizens of their slaves by freeing them and enlisting them in his bodyguard?

He certainly would, since they’d be likely to prove most loyal to him.

What a blessedly happy sort of fellow you make the tyrant out to be, if these are the sort of people he employs as friends and loyal followers
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after he’s done away with the earlier ones.

Nonetheless, they’re the sort he employs.

And these companions and new citizens admire and associate with him, while the decent people hate and avoid him.

Of course.

It isn’t for nothing, then, that tragedy in general has the reputation of being wise and that Euripides is thought to be outstandingly so.

Why’s that?

Because among other shrewd things he said that “tyrants are wise who associate with the wise.” And by “the wise” he clearly means the sort of [b] people that we’ve seen to be the tyrant’s associates.

Yes. And he and the other poets eulogize tyranny as godlike and say lots of other such things about it.

Then, surely, since the tragic poets are wise, they’ll forgive us and those whose constitutions resemble ours, if we don’t admit them into our city, since they praise tyranny.

[c] I suppose that the more sophisticated among them will.

And so I suppose that they go around to other cities, draw crowds, hire people with fine, big, persuasive voices, and lead their constitutions to tyranny and democracy.

They do indeed.

And besides this, they receive wages and honors, especially—as one might expect—from the tyrants and, in second place, from the democracies, but the higher they go on the ascending scale of constitutions, the more their honor falls off, as if unable to keep up with them for lack of [d] breath.

Absolutely.

But we digress. So let’s return to that fine, numerous, diverse, and ever-changing bodyguard of the tyrant and explain how he’ll pay for it.

Clearly, if there are sacred treasuries in the city, he’ll use them for as long as they last, as well as the property of the people he has destroyed, thus requiring smaller taxes from the people.

What about when these give out? [e]

Clearly, both he and his fellow revellers—his companions, male or female—will have to feed off his father’s estate.

I understand. You mean that the people, who fathered the tyrant, will have to feed him and his companions.

They’ll be forced to do so.