In the company at Cephalus’ house is the sophist Thrasymachus. After listening impatiently to the conversation, he breaks in. “What hogwash this is, Socrates! Why are you carrying on like nitwits bowing and scraping to each other? If you really want to know what justice is, don’t just ask questions and refute what someone answers to show off, knowing as you do that it’s much easier to ask questions than to answer them. No, answer for yourself and tell us what you say justice is! And see that you don’t say it’s what is right, or expedient, or beneficial, or profitable, or advantageous, but declare to me plainly and precisely what you think. Because I’m not going to accept that kind of nonsense.”[23]
Taken aback, Socrates gathers his thoughts and answers tremulously that he is sorry to offend Thrasymachus, but he and Polemarchus are doing their best to solve a difficult problem, even if they are muddling through it. They deserve the sophist’s pity rather than his censure. “By Hercules,” says Thrasymachus, “this is Socrates’ customary irony. I knew it and I even told my friends beforehand that you wouldn’t answer, but you would dissemble and do anything to avoid answering if anyone asked you a question.”
But what do you expect me to say?, answers Socrates. If you ask me what twelve is, and say that I can’t tell you it is two times six or three times four or six times two or four times three, what am I supposed to say? What if you rule out the correct answer?
Thrasymachus hints that he has a better answer than the ones he has dismissed. Socrates should pay to learn it. Socrates says he will, when he has some money, and Glaucon offers to pass the hat for him. Thrasymachus warns that Socrates never gives his own answer, but just refutes others’ answers. Socrates professes not to know the answer, but to be willing to examine answers proposed by others.
This has all been stage-setting for Thrasymachus, who is dying to show off his knowledge and display his superiority to Socrates and the rest of the company. With a little more coaxing from Socrates, who promises to pay his fee with praise, the sophist relents.
“Listen, then,” he says. “I declare that justice is nothing but the advantage of the stronger.” Silence. He looks at Socrates. “Why don’t you applaud? — Because you just won’t!”[24]
“I will if I can figure out what you mean. I don’t quite get it.” For instance, if eating a lot of meat is advantageous for the famous athlete Polydamas, should we follow his diet?
“You’re pathetic, Socrates. You twist people’s words to discredit them as much as possible.”
Socrates pushes Thrasymachus to provide a context for his definition. The sophist quickly turns to politics. Every kind of government makes laws for its own advantage, democracy, aristocracy, tyranny. “Now I get it,” says Socrates. But he chides Thrasymachus for using a definition he had forbidden Socrates to use: the advantageous.
“Tell me then whether all the rulers of every city are infallible, or whether they are capable of erring,” Socrates asks.[25]
They can err, of course. But then, Socrates continues, they might pass a law that is not to their own advantage. Should the subjects obey all laws of the rulers? Yes.
“Then on your account it is not only just to act in accordance with the advantage of the stronger, but, to the contrary, to act against that advantage.” For in obeying laws set down by the rulers which command what is contrary to the advantage of the stronger, the subjects are compelled to act against the advantage of the stronger. This contradicts Thrasymachus’ definition.
Embarrassed, Thrasymachus backtracks. “Do you think,” he asks, “the ruler who errs is stronger insofar as he errs?” Drawing on Socrates’ Craft Analogy, he points out that a doctor, an accountant, or in general any craftsman is not a craftsman insofar as he fails to apply his knowledge correctly. “So strictly speaking—since you demand a strict account—no craftsman ever errs.”[26]
Thrasymachus thus salvages his definition by accepting Socrates’ Craft Analogy with its implications of infallibility for those with the appropriate science or art. But now he is in Socrates’ territory, and he is doomed.
Socrates examines some crafts and what they seek. Medicine does not seek its own advantage, but the advantage of the patient’s body. Horsemanship does not seek the advantage of itself, but of horses. To generalize, then, “no science aims at or directs the advantage of the stronger, but rather that of the weaker and of those ruled by it.”[27] We see that the arts are organized to provide advantages for the disadvantaged, to restore health to the sick, to take care of animals and plants, to provide safe voyages to sailors and passengers on the sea, to build houses for those needing shelter, and so on. We begin to see that for Socrates the Craft Analogy provides not only a model for understanding how theoretical knowledge can be applied to practical problems, but a pattern for the improvement of the world. There is, for him, an ethical dimension to the crafts which shows the proper end of knowledge. The crafts are instances of practical knowledge that are inherently altruistic. The craftsman is a paradigmatic benefactor, and his knowledge is inherently beneficial. If he fails to benefit his clients, he does so only insofar as he fails to act as a craftsman. A craftsman is, then, almost by definition, a benefactor. His work is to help those who are weaker, not to exploit them.
“Tell me, do you have a nanny, Socrates?” Thrasymachus interrupts. “Because she obviously hasn’t wiped your runny nose, or taught you the difference between sheep and shepherds.” Shepherds and cowherds don’t care about the long-term welfare of the sheep, just about how to profit from them. The true ruler of a city is no different: he exploits his subjects for his own personal advantage. The best example, he reveals, is the tyrant. He does what many criminals do, often robbing and killing his subjects, but since he is the ruler, we call him fortunate and blessed. After this finale, Thraysmachus tries to leave, but the company will not hear of it until Socrates has had a chance to reply.
In reply, Socrates turns again to the Craft Analogy. Each craft is defined by its function and what it aims to accomplish. Since craftsmen benefit others rather than themselves with their arts, they require pay to perform their services. For instance, a doctor demands a fee precisely because he doesn’t personally benefit from his services to others. But now the money-making is itself an art, but a different one from medicine. In general, if craftsmen benefit from exercising their crafts, it is in virtue of their charging fees for their services as they benefit the weaker, as a recompense for their time and expertise.
[23].Plato Republic 336b-d.
[24].Plato Republic 338c.
[25].Plato Republic 339c.
[26].Plato Republic 340e.
[27].Plato Republic 342c-d.