The Republic Summary

The Republic itself is nothing at the start of Plato's most famous and influential
book. It does not exist. Not only does it not exist in actuality, but it does not exist in
theory either. It must be built. It's architect will be Socrates, the fictional persona Plato
creates for himself. In the first episode Socrates encounters some acquaintances during
the festival of Bendis. His reputation for good conversation already well-established,
Socrates is approached by some dilettante philosopher acquaintances and drawn into a
dialogue. The discussion quickly moves to justice thanks to Socrates. The other
philosophers, including Thrasymachus, Polermarchus, Glaucon, and Adeimantus
enthusiastically consent to such a worthy topic. However, it is unlikely at this point that
any of these philosopherssave Socrates, of courseanticipates the ambition and
enormity of their undertaking.
In Book I, Socrates entertains two distinct definitions of justice. The first is
provided by Polermarchus, who suggests that justice is "doing good to your friends and
harm to your enemies." The definition, which is a version of conventionally morality, is
considered. Very soon though, its faults are clearly apparent. It is far to relative to serve
as a formulation of the justice. Moreover, its individual terms are vulnerable; that is to
say, how does one know who is a friend and who an enemy? And are not friends as
much as enemies capable of evil? And when a friend acts wickedly, should he not be
punished? And next, what does it mean that an action is good or bad? The perils of
giving credence to false appearances is introduced early on as a major theme. It will be
dealt with at length in the succeeding books. Thus surely an idea as noble as justice will
not stand on such precarious ground. Socrates is dissatisfied. A second definition,
offered by Thrasymachus, endorses tyranny. "Obedience to the interest of the stronger,"
is likewise mined for its value, shown to be deficient, and discarded. Tyranny, Socrates
demonstrates employing several analogies, inevitably results in the fragmentation of the
soul. Benevolent rule, on the other hand, ensures a harmonious life for both man and
State. Justice is its means and good is its end. That "justice is the excellence of the
soul" is Socrates' main conclusion. But there are too many presumptions. Although his
auditors have troubled refuting his claims, Socrates knows he has been too vague and
that should they truly wish to investigate the question of justice, he will have to be more
specific. Book I ends with yet another question. Is the just life more pleasurable, more
rewarding than the unjust? Rather all at once the philosophers have inundated
themselves. But the first book has succeeded in one major way. It has established the
territory of the over-arching argument of the entire work;
The philosophers continue the debate in Book II by introducing a new definition
that belongs more to political philosophy than pure philosophy: that justice is a legally
enforced compromise devised for the mutual protection of citizens of a state. In other
words, justice is a fabrication of the State that prevents citizens from harming one
another. Socrates is certainly up to the challenge. He dislikes the idea that justice does
not exists naturally, but that it must be externally and superficially imposed to
discourage unjust behavior. Adeimantus' mentioning of the State seems fortuitous, but it
is as if Socrates has been waiting for it all along. Uncertain whether they can arrive at

an acceptable definition of justice any other way, Socrates proposes they construct a
State of which they approve, and see if they might not find justice lurking in it
somewhere. This State arises, Socrates says, "out of the needs of mankind." And the
immense project of building a State from its very foundation has officially commenced.
Basic necessities are addressed first, then the primitive division of labor, followed by the
rudiments of education. Within the ideal State, Socrates maintains, there will be no need
for "bad fictions," or manipulative poetics in general, since education must be perfectly
moral.
The arts in education are primarily dealt with in Book III. Socrates concludes his
attack on the "libelous poetry" that portrays his beloved virtues in so many negative
lights. It is not of use to the State. Or if it is to be of use, it must be stringently didactic
and partake of none of the indulgence and rhapsody common to their tradition and to
contemporary poets as well. Even Homer is indicted. Instead the citizens of the state, at
this early stage they are generically named guardians, are to be nourished only on
literature - broadly termed 'music' by Socrates - clearly illustrating courage, wisdom,
temperance, and virtue (just behavior). The second part of education, gymnasium,
consists mostly of the physical training of the citizens. At this point Socrates' State
needs rulers. Who better to rule than the best and most patriotic citizens produced by
the rigorous education apparatus. These very select few are now more strictly called the
guardians, while non-guardians remain citizens. The guardians will be the rulers. The
book closes with the Phoenician myth, which Socrates feels would serve as effective
mythical explanation for their State. Through the myth citizens are told they are made of
a certain mix of metals, gold and silver, iron and brass, etc. They are born like this and
are to take the requisite social station because of it. However, should a citizen of gold or
silver be born to parents of an inferior metal, he will rise socially as is just; and the rule
will also function in the reverse situation. The myth provides the State with an
accessible, allegorical illustration of its stable, hierarchical social organization.
In Book IV the happiness of the guardians, so strenuously trained, is questioned.
Socrates takes the objections of his auditors in due stride, reminding them of their
original premise: that the State is to be for the good of the many and not the few. Their
State has grown larger in the meantime, and is beginning to divide its labors. Defense
and security against neighbors and foreign invasion enter the debate. But surely,
Socrates says, the education, military and otherwise, that the citizens have garnered,
coupled with their love for the State and their solidarity, will repel or outwit all
challenges. Believing that what they have created thus far is a perfect State, the
philosopher once again seek out justice. Socrates suggests they proceed by a process
of elimination among the four virtues. He defines courage, temperance, and wisdom,
but must digress before attaining justice. The digression yields the three principles of
the soul: reason, passion, and appetite. When these exist in harmony, Socrates
concludes, there is justice. It is a provisional definition.
The philosophers agreement at the end of Book IV to discuss the various corrupt forms
of government is, however, interrupted by an accusation of laziness. Thrasymachus
voices his dissatisfaction with Socrates who, he says, has purposely avoided speaking
of the more practical concerns of the State. The objection blossoms into the section on

matrimony. Encompassing matrimony, family, and community, Socrates elucidates his

very scientific, very futuristic plan for population control and the right breeding of the
human animal. The strong reproduce more often than the weak. Likewise weak
offspring are disposed of or hidden away someplace unnamed. Socrates has bucked
two of what he calls three "waves." The third and greatest is the question of whether
their possibility is realizable in any way. Socrates' response is mostly negative.
However, there is one method by which the States they see around them might become
ideal States. That is, if philosophers become kings or, more likely, if kings take up the
study of philosophy. Hence the famous term philosopher-kings. But this in turn begs the
query: what is the philosopher? This leads Socrates into another complicated idea, an
inchoate version of the Theory of Forms. Manifestations, appearances, likenesses,
opinionsnone of them are Reality; they are merely shadows. Only the Forms, the
ideals that lie behind are truth. And the philosopher seeks above all else knowledge of
these Forms.
Book V opens with the reappearance of Polermarchus, whose whispering in
Adeimantus's ear attracts the attention of Socrates. Polermarchus reluctantly speaks up
at Socrates' behest; he accuses the philosopher of laziness and of not answering some
of the more practical questions regarding their State, such as early education, family,
and community; in other words, social concerns. Somewhat weary of discoursing,
Socrates says he would rather not reduce his philosophy to this level, but his audience
demands it.
Yet another accusation from the gallery directs Socrates' inquiry in the beginning
of Book VI. Adeimantus believes the guardians they have created are monsters. On the
contrary, Socrates defends, their nobility and worth are beyond question, drawing on the
parable of the pilot and his crew as an illustration. The parable opposes the wants of the
majority with the authority of the truly fit leader. The multitudes, Socrates explains, do
not know what is best for them. They are to be ruled by one especially suited and
trained to this end, and for the good of all. Socrates is obliged then to develop the
relationship between the guardians and philosophy. Guardians, he says, cease to be
guardians when they abandon the truth, be minority or otherwise. The final section of
Book VI includes a series of wonderfully vivid and intelligible figures or metaphors that
help clarify somewhat the Theory of Forms and the good. Visibility, vision, and light are
analogous to knowledge, the knower, and that which makes knowing possible, the
good. The good is symbolized by sunlight, the vital means by which the sun not only
sheds light on the world but nourishes that world. Philosophy is a love of the light, an
attempt to perceive and understand it in all its metaphorical manifestations. Everything
else belongs to the world of the manifold, of shadows. Finally the dialectic is the only
way to ascend, as upon a staircase of ideas, to the luminous good.
Book VII is dominated by the Allegory of the Cave. One of the most enduring
images perhaps in the history of western philosophy, the dim cave plays host to a group
of prisoners, chained in such a way that they cannot move their heads, stare at a wall all
day. Thanks to a small fire, the prisoners see the shadows of their captors projected on
the wall. Having always been in the cave, they believe the shadows are true; likewise,

the echoed voices they hear, they also believe to be true. Then one day a certain
prisoner is released. The secrets of the cave are disclosed to him, and he is lead up into
the sunlight, which blinds his unaccustomed eyes. The third part of the allegory has the
enlightened' prisoner, who has looked upon, contemplated, and adjusted to the true
light of the sun, must return to the cave. There he finds his new eyes ill-suited for cave
life and is cruelly mocked by the other prisoners. A summary of the life course of the
guardians, the allegory moralizes dutiful rule for the common good. The guardians must
give up the beauty and peace of the light to help their fellow men, the majority of whom
dwell in abject darkness. But who would make such a sacrifice? Given their
educationwhich is now expanded even furtherSocrates is confidant the guardians
would. After all they spend the first fifty years of their life training for the opportunity and,
as they would considered it, their honor.
Socrates asks permission to backtrack a little at the opening of Book VIII in order to
analyze the forms of corrupt governments. This way they can also look at the individuals
inhabiting them, thus cutting away the grist so that only the meat, the just man, may
remain. There are four principle defective forms: timocracy, oligarchy, democracy, and
tyranny. Aristocracy's (the republic) degeneration into timocracy occurs as a kind of
hypothetical fluke, an error in population control. The timocracy is a government based
primarily on honor not justice, and the timocratic man is torn between his philosophical
ancestors and new, ingratiating contemporaries who flatter his vanity. Oligarchy arises
when wealth becomes the standard. The State separates into two distinct and distant
classesrich and poor. And the timocrat embodies the old, honorable ways in
competition with avarice. After a revolution in which the rulers are overthrown by the
discontented poor, democracy, the most liberal and various State appears. The
democratic representative is ruled by appetites that hold sway well above reason or
honor. The final dissolution into the worst and most wicked form of government, tyranny,
is the result of democracy's supposed virtue: freedom. But is in excess and, after
another revolution, a new ruler, the tyrant ascends. He has no unlimited freedom and
thus no morals. He feels off the State, taxes his people, protects himself with
mercenaries, and destroys any threat to this power. The book's most miserable
character, the tyrant is antithetical to the guardian; he is injustice incarnate.
Book IX sees Socrates deal with the figure of the tyrant in more depth. This is a
necessary digression, since by evaluating the life of the tyrant, his pleasures and pains,
they may have a better idea of what constitutes the unjust life. Eventually they will use
what they learn from the tyrant to compare his life with the philosopher's. The tyrant
begins as the champion of the people, promising to release them from debt. By the end
of his reign, however, he has taxed them into poverty and enslaved them. Then, in an
unexpected turn, the tyrant, for a while master of all men himself becomes a slave to all
men. He is governed by insatiable appetites, is threatened on all sides and at every
moment by betrayal and assassination, and can never leave his land for fear of being
deposed. The portrait is rather dismal; what would seem to be absolute freedom is in
reality absolute slavery. Book IX concludes with the re-introduction of the question: does
the unjust man who is perceived as just in public live better or worse than the just man
perceived as unjust? A discussion of the nature of pleasure ensues and the base
pleasures are distinguished from the noble and, in fact, more enjoyable. Ultimately,

Socrates answers, in the long run, injustice enjoys much less, if at all, and must
inevitably reveal itself and be shunned or cast out. The finale, and really the end of the
State as such, is Socrates assertion that whether or not the ideal State becomes a
reality, the philosopher must always live as though it were real inside him.
The final book of The Republic, "The Recompense of Life," telescopes into two main
points. First is the issue of imitative poetry. Here Socrates offers his conclusive
assessment of the poetic arts. Homer, he apologizes, must, except for those parts
portraying nobility and right behavior in famous men and gods, be left out of the State.
He may even have to be translated from verse to prose, in order that the musicality of
the language not seduce any citizens. Second comes the true recompense of life, which
actually occurs in the afterlife. Although the just man reaps great rewards in mortal life, it
is in his immortality, or the immortality of his soul, where he is truly paid his due. The
gods receive the just man, who has aspired all along to emulate them, as a quasi-equal.
And enfin, The Republic closes with Socrates' colorful narration of the tale of Er the
hero. It is a long description of an afterlife, in which all those virtues that Socrates has
worked so diligently to expose and defend are given their proper place. Souls are
shown in eternal recurrence, moving up and down from the heavens to earth and back
again (with the wicked spending thousand year stints in hell).