Republic

”And when a man is tyrannized by Eros, having become always in waking reality such as he occasionally used to be in dreams, he will not refrain from any terrible murder, nor from any forbidden food, nor from any evil deed. On the contrary, the Eros dwelling within him, living in complete anarchy and lawlessness as a monarch himself, will lead the one who possesses him, just as if ruling a city, into every kind of daring act, so as to feed himself and the rowdy crowd of desires around him—some having entered from the outside through evil associations, and others having been released and set free from within by the same character traits and by himself. Or is not the life of such a man like this?” “Indeed it is,” he said. “And if,” I said, “there are only a few such men in a city, while the rest of the multitude is temperate, they go abroad to act as bodyguards to some other tyrant, or serve as mercenaries if there is a war somewhere. But if they live in peace and quiet, they commit many small evils right there in the city.” “What kind of evils do you mean?” “Such as stealing, housebreaking, purse-cutting, stripping clothes, temple-robbing, kidnapping; and sometimes, if they are capable of speaking, they bring false charges, bear false witness, and accept bribes.” ”Small evils indeed,” he said, “if such men are few.” “For small things,” I said, “are small in comparison with great ones, and all these evils, when compared to a tyrant in terms of the wickedness and misery of a city, do not even, as the saying goes, hit near the mark. For when many such men and others who follow them arise in a city, and they become aware of their multitude, then it is they who, along with the folly of the people, beget that tyrant—the one among them who has within his own soul the greatest and most dominant tyrant.” “Naturally,” he said, “for he would be the most tyrannical.” “Therefore, if they yield willingly, well and good; but if the city does not permit it, just as he once chastised his mother and father, so again he will chastise his motherland—or ‘fatherland,’ as the Cretans call it—if he is able, by bringing in new companions, and under their subjection he will keep and feed his once dear motherland and fatherland. And this indeed would be the end of such a man’s desire.” ”Absolutely so,” he said.

”Therefore,” I said, “do they not become such characters in private life even before they rule? First, regarding those they associate with, they either associate with flatterers who are ready to serve them in everything, or, if they themselves need something from someone, they themselves fall down before them, daring to adopt every posture as if they were intimate, but once they have accomplished their purpose, they become strangers?” “Very much so.” “Thus, throughout their whole life, they live as friends to no one, always either master over someone or slave to another, and the tyrannical nature never tastes of true freedom or friendship.” “Entirely so.” “Would we not, then, rightly call such men untrustworthy?” “Of course.” “And indeed, they are unjust to the greatest possible degree, if indeed we correctly agreed in our previous discussion about what justice is.” “Indeed, we did,” he said. “Let us then,” I said, “sum up the worst man. He is, I suppose, the one who is in waking reality such as we described him in dreams.” “Entirely so.” “And he becomes so when one who is by nature most tyrannical holds monarchical power, and the longer he lives in his tyranny, the more he becomes so.” “Inevitably,” Glaucon said, taking up the discourse. “Then,” I said, “will he who appears most wicked also appear most miserable? And he who rules as a tyrant for the longest time and most thoroughly, has he in truth become such for the longest time and most thoroughly? Though many things seem different to the multitude.” “Inevitably,” he said, “at least these things must be so.” “Is it anything else, then,” I said, “that the tyrannical man would correspond in similarity to the tyrannized city, the democratic man to the democratically ruled city, and the others in the same way?” “Of course.” “Then, the relation of city to city in virtue and happiness is the same as that of man to man?” ”How could it not be?” “What then, in virtue, is the relation of a tyrannized city to a kingly one such as we first described?” “Completely the opposite,” he said, “for the one is the best, and the other is the worst.” “I will not ask,” I said, “which one you mean, for that is clear. But regarding happiness and misery likewise, do you judge in the same way or differently? And let us not be struck with awe looking at the tyrant who is only one, nor at the few around him, but just as one must enter and observe the whole city, let us go down into all of it and see, and only then declare our opinion.” “You propose this rightly,” he said, “and it is clear to everyone that there is no city more miserable than a tyrannized one, and none happier than a kingly one.”