In Plato’s Republic, book I, Socrates enters into an extended discussion of justice that engages the might-makes-right philosophy which Antiphon promoted and Thucydides uncovered as a driving force in Athenian imperialism.[15]
Socrates asks the elderly Cephalus, a foreign resident from Syracuse in whose house the dialogue takes place,[16] about his experience of old age. Cephalus is content with his lot, refusing to complain about his problems, and satisfied to have sufficient wealth to avoid the worst ills. He presents a picture of conventional wisdom. He says that his resources will allow him to depart this world without the fear of having cheated anyone or of owing a debt to either man or god.
Socrates picks up this hint and responds, “Well said, Cephalus. This very thing, then, justice, shall we say without qualification that it is to tell the truth and to give back whatever one has borrowed? Or are these actions sometimes just, sometimes not? I have in mind something like this case: one man borrows from his friend a weapon while the friend is in his right mind. But then if the friend goes crazy and demands the weapon back, it wouldn’t be right to return the weapon, nor would the borrower be justified in doing so, nor should he willingly tell him the whole truth, given the friend’s state of mind.”[17] In our day the case of an angry individual demanding a gun conjures up terrible scenes of bloodshed.
As Socrates tries to engage Cephalus in the quest for a better definition, the old man excuses himself to perform a religious sacrifice—an act of justice and piety—turning over to his son and heir, Polemarchus, the philosophical discussion. Polemarchus invokes the poet Simonides, who says that it is just to return to each what is owed. Polemarchus seconds the statement. Socrates acknowledges the authority of the poet, but claims not to understand his meaning. Surely he can’t endorse returning a weapon to its owner when the latter is out of his head. So what does he really mean?
“He thinks,” Polemarchus replies, “that friends owe it to friends to do them good, not evil.”[18]
“What next? Should one return to enemies whatever is owed to them?”
“Absolutely; whatever is owed to them. And what is owed, I think, to an enemy, is what is fitting, namely some evil.”
Socrates observes that Simonides then must have been speaking in riddles: when he said “what is owed” he meant what is fitting or appropriate. Now Socrates invokes the Craft Analogy. “If, by Zeus, someone should ask, ‘Simonides, what appropriate thing that was owed would the craft called medicine return, and to whom?’ what do you think he would answer us?”
“Obviously medicines, food and drink, to bodies.” …
“Now then, the craft of justice, what does it return and to whom?”
“By parity of reasoning, it would return to those we mentioned, to friends and enemies, respectively, benefits and harms.”
“So he means that justice is to do good to friends and harm to enemies?”
“I believe so.”
The interpretation of Simonides Polemarchus arrives at is not just a curious reading of an old poet. In fact the revised definition reflects the standard popular morality of the time. The prudent man benefits his friends and harms his enemies. As one litigant says in a speech written for him by Lysias, “I regard it an established practice to do harm to one’s enemies and good to one’s friends.” In a play of Euripides, Medea says, “Let no one consider me base, weak,/ nor meek, but rather of the contrary temper,/ cruel to enemies, to friends benign;/ the life of such is most glorious.” The poet here presents a woman with a manly character.[19]
In another Platonic dialogue, Meno says, “This is the virtue of a man: to be able to manage the affairs of his city, and in doing so to do good to his friends and evil to his enemies, while avoiding having evil done to him.”[20] Whatever Simonides was up to in the poem Polemarchus alludes to, the definition Polemarchus arrives at expresses at a deep level a view that most Greeks of the time would have assented to; the immediate audience of the dialogue would have nodded in assent.
In Plato’s dialogue, Socrates turns to ask about the status of one’s friends and enemies. Are one’s friends always good and one’s enemies always bad? Not necessarily, Polemarchus admits. But then in doing good to one’s friends and harm to one’s enemies, sometimes one is doing good to bad people and bad to good people. If the essence of Simonides’ conception is that one should treat people appropriately, we seem now to be violating his injunction by treating people contrary to what they deserve.
Socrates proposes a correction to the previous definition: justice is “to do good to a friend who is good and harm to an enemy who is bad.”[21] Polemarchus accepts this adjustment. Now of course the definition leaves unclear how we should act to friends who are bad and enemies who are good. But Socrates proceeds to a more fundamental critique.
“Is it indeed the responsibility of a just man to harm any man at all?” he asks. Consider the case of horses. If they are harmed, do they become better or worse? Worse. Worse in the excellence of horses? Yes. And similarly with dogs. So when we turn to human beings, will they not become worse if they are harmed? And worse in the excellence of human beings? And isn’t justice human excellence? So won’t the individual who is harmed become more unjust?
Socrates returns to the Craft Analogy. Will the musicians make people more unmusical through the art of music? Surely not. “Will, then, just people make others more unjust through the art of justice? Or in sum will the good make people bad through virtue?”[22] It is the function of heat to warm, not cool things. It is the function of dryness to dry, not moisten things. A just person is good. “It is not, accordingly, the function of a just person, Polemarchus, to harm either a friend or anyone else either, but that is the effect of the opposite, the unjust person.”
Socrates finds a deep practical contradiction in the conception of justice as benefiting some people and harming others. He has no problem with the notion of benefiting others, but the notion of harming is highly problematic. If we succeed in harming another, we make that person worse, specifically a worse human being, more deficient in the qualities of goodness that define human beings. Insofar as we think of virtue in general and justice in particular as like a craft, it should promote the good that it embodies, not destroy it. As just people, we should foster justice in others and increase the amount of justice in the world. This principle lies behind Socrates’ claim (which we shall meet again) that it is never right to do wrong, even in retaliation for a wrong we receive. Justice and virtue must always be beneficial, never harmful in intent— however others may react to virtuous acts. As the doctor always does his best to heal the patient, the just person must always do his best to treat others justly and, by extension, to make others more just.
[15]. The first book of the Republic has all the characteristics of a Socratic dialogue, whereas succeeding nine books are very Platonic in their approach and content. It has often been thought that the first book was originally written as a stand-alone Socratic dialogue and later co-opted as the introduction to Plato’s magnum opus. See Friedländer 1958-1969 2: 50-66; Vlastos 1991: 248-51; Nails 2002: 324-26. Whatever its history, the first book is widely used as evidence for Socrates’ views.
[16].See Nails 2002:84-85. For more on his family, see ch. 21* below.
[17].Plato Republic 331c.
[18].Plato Republic 332a.
[19].Lysias 9.20; Euripides Medea 807-10; see Dover 1974: 181-184 for numerous citations of similar attitudes.
[20].Plato Meno 71e.
[21].Plato Republic 335a.
[22].Plato Republic 335c-d.