Book IV, 436–442

436a “One might chiefly attribute it to the region, or say that the love of money is found especially among the Phoenicians and the people of Egypt.”“Certainly,” he said.“That much is so,” I said, “and not hard to recognize.”“Not at all.”“But here is a harder question: do we perform each of these things by the same part of ourselves, or, since there are three, each by a different part? Do we learn with one part, feel anger with another, and with a third desire the pleasures of food and procreation and everything 436b akin to them? Or do we act with the whole soul in each case, whenever we are moved to act? These are the distinctions that will be hard to draw adequately.”“I think so too,” he said.“Then let us try this way to determine whether these parts are the same as one another or different.”“How?”“It is clear that the same thing will not consent to do or undergo opposites at the same time, in the same respect and in relation to the same thing. So if we find these opposites taking place among them, we shall know that it was not one 436c thing but more than one.”“Very well.”“Consider what I mean.”“Speak,” he said.“Is it possible,” I said, “for the same thing to stand still and move at once in the same respect?”“Not at all.”“Let us agree more precisely, then, so that we do not dispute the matter as we go on. If someone said that a man who stands still while moving his hands and head is both standing still and moving at once, we would not, I think, accept 436d that way of speaking. We would say instead that one part of him stands still and another moves. Would we not?”“We would.”“And if our speaker grew more ingenious still, making the clever claim that whole spinning tops both stand still and move when they turn with their points fixed in the same spot, or that anything else revolving in a circle on the same base does this, we would not accept it. Such things are not still and moving in the same respects 436e within themselves. We would say that they have both a straight axis and a circumference, and that in respect of the straight axis they stand still—for it inclines in no direction—while in respect of the circumference they move in a circle. But when the axis tilts to the right or left, forward or backward, as the top turns, then it is not standing still in any respect.”“And rightly so,” he said.“Nothing said along these lines, then, will startle us or persuade us in the least that the same thing could ever at once, in the same respect and in relation 437a to the same thing, undergo opposites, or be opposites, or do opposite things.”“It certainly will not persuade me,” he said.“Still,” I said, “so that we need not lengthen our inquiry by taking up every such objection and proving it false, let us assume that this is so and go forward. But let us agree that if these things ever appear otherwise, all our conclusions drawn from this premise will be undone.”“Yes,” he said, “that is what we should do.” 437b“Would you then,” I said, “class nodding assent and shaking the head in denial, reaching to take something and refusing it, drawing something toward oneself and pushing it away—all such things—among opposites of one another, whether as actions or as experiences? That distinction makes no difference here.”“Yes,” he said, “among opposites.”“What, then?” I said. “Thirst and hunger and desires in general, and again willingness and wishing: would you not place all these 437c among the kinds we just named? Would you not say that the soul of one who desires always reaches toward the thing it desires, or draws toward itself what it wishes to have, or again, insofar as it wills that something be provided, assents to it within itself as if answering a question, longing for it to come about?”“I would.”“And unwillingness, refusal, and lack of desire—shall we not place these with repelling and driving away from oneself, and with everything opposed to those other things?” 437d“How could we not?”“Since this is so, shall we say that there is a kind called desire, and that the clearest instances of it are what we call thirst and hunger?”“We shall,” he said.“One is for drink, the other for food?”“Yes.”“Then insofar as thirst is thirst, is it a desire in the soul for anything beyond what we have said? Is thirst, for example, thirst for hot drink or cold, for much or little, or, in a word, for some particular kind of drink? Or, if heat is present 437e along with thirst, does that addition produce desire for cold drink, and cold the desire for hot? If the thirst is great because of the presence of a great amount, will it produce desire for much drink, and if slight, for little? But thirst itself can never be desire for anything but what it naturally seeks, drink itself; and hunger, likewise, for food?”“Yes,” he said. “Each desire in itself is only for that which it naturally seeks; its being for this or that kind of thing comes from what is added to it.”

438a “We must not let anyone unsettle us while we are off our guard by saying that no one desires drink but good drink, or food but good food. For everyone, it is claimed, desires good things; so, if thirst is a desire, it must be for something good, whether drink or whatever else its object may be, and the other desires likewise.”“Perhaps,” he said, “the person saying this might seem to have a point.”“Yet,” I said, “of all things that are related 438b to something else, some, I think, are qualified in a certain way and related to something qualified; but each thing simply itself is related only to the thing simply itself.”“I did not understand,” he said.“Do you not understand,” I said, “that greater is the sort of thing that is greater than something?”“Certainly.”“Than something less?”“Yes.”“And much greater than something much less. Is that so?”“Yes.”“And what was once greater than what was once less, and what will be greater than what will be less?”“Of course,” he said. 438c“And more is related to fewer, double to half, and all such things likewise; heavier to lighter, faster to slower, and hot to cold, and all things of this sort—is that not how it is?”“Indeed it is.”“And what of the branches of knowledge? Is the principle not the same? Knowledge itself is knowledge of what can be learned itself, or whatever it is we ought to call its object; but knowledge of a certain kind 438d is knowledge of an object of a certain kind. Here is what I mean: when there came to be a knowledge of constructing houses, was it not distinguished from other kinds of knowledge, and so named building?”“Of course.”“Was that not because it was of a particular kind, unlike any of the others?”“Yes.”“Then was it not because its object was of a particular kind that it too became a particular kind? And is it not the same with the other arts and branches of knowledge?”“It is.”“Then take this,” I said, “as what I meant, if you understand now: of all things related to something, each thing itself is related simply to its object itself, while a thing qualified in some way is related to an object qualified in some way. 438e I am not saying that knowledge becomes like the things it knows, so that knowledge of healthy and sick things is healthy and sick, or knowledge of good and bad things good and bad. Rather, because this knowledge came to be not of knowledge's object simply, but of an object of a particular kind—the healthy and the sick—it too became a particular kind. This is why it is no longer called simply knowledge, but, with its particular object added, medicine.”“I understand,” he said, “and it seems to me to be so.”

439a “And thirst,” I said, “would you not place it among things that are related to something? For thirst is surely thirst—”“Yes,” he said, “for drink.”“Then a particular kind of thirst is for a particular kind of drink. But thirst itself is neither for much nor little, good nor bad, nor, in short, any particular kind of drink: thirst itself is by nature for drink itself alone?”“Absolutely.”“So the soul of a thirsty person, insofar as it is thirsty, wishes for nothing 439b but to drink; it reaches for that and moves toward it.”“Clearly.”“Then if anything pulls it back when it is thirsty, there must be something else in it besides what thirsts and drives it like a beast toward drinking. For we say that the same thing cannot at the same time, with the same part of itself and in relation to the same thing, perform opposites.”“Certainly not.”“It would be wrong, I think, to say that an archer's hands are at once pushing the bow away and drawing it toward him. Rather, one hand pushes and the other draws.” 439c“Absolutely,” he said.“Shall we say, then, that there are people who are thirsty but sometimes unwilling to drink?”“Yes indeed,” he said, “many people, and often.”“What should one say about them?” I asked. “Is there not in their souls something bidding them drink, but also something restraining them, distinct from and stronger than what bids them?”“I think so,” he said.“And does not what restrains them in such cases arise, when it arises, from calculation, while what leads and draws them comes from feelings and diseases?” 439d“So it appears.”“It will not be unreasonable, then,” I said, “to consider them two distinct things, calling the part of the soul with which it calculates the rational part, and the part with which it loves, hungers, thirsts, and flutters after the other desires the irrational and appetitive part, companion of certain satisfactions and pleasures.” 439e“No,” he said, “we should be right to think of them that way.”“Let these two kinds within the soul be distinguished, then,” I said. “But what about spirit, the part by which we feel anger? Is it a third, or akin in nature to one of these two?”“Perhaps,” he said, “to the latter, the appetitive part.”“But I once heard an account,” I said, “that I believe: Leontius son of Aglaion was coming up from Piraeus outside the north wall when he noticed some corpses lying by the executioner. He longed to look at them, yet at the same time felt disgust and turned himself away. For a while he struggled and covered his face; but at last,

440a overcome by desire, he forced his eyes wide open, ran toward the corpses, and said, ‘There, you wretches! Feast yourselves on the beautiful sight!’”“I have heard it too,” he said.“This story,” I said, “shows that anger sometimes wars against the desires, as one thing against another.”“It does,” he said.“And do we not notice in many other cases,” I said, “that when 440b desires force someone against reason, he reviles himself and grows angry with the thing doing violence within him, and that his spirit, as though in a conflict between two parties, becomes an ally of reason? But I think you would not say you had ever found your spirit joining forces with the desires against reason's judgment that they must not act; nor, I think, would you have seen that happen in anyone else.”“No, by Zeus,” he said. 440c“And when a man thinks he has done wrong?” I said. “The nobler he is, is he not the less capable of growing angry, even when hungry or cold or suffering anything of the kind at the hands of someone he believes is acting justly? His spirit, as I say, refuses to rise against that person.”“True,” he said.“But when he believes he is being wronged, does not his spirit boil and bristle and fight for what seems just? Enduring hunger and cold and every such hardship, 440d it prevails and does not desist from its noble efforts until it either wins, dies, or is called back and soothed by the reason within him, as a dog is by its shepherd?”“Yes,” he said, “it closely resembles what you describe. Indeed, in our city we made the auxiliaries, like dogs, obedient to the rulers, the shepherds of the city.”“You understand well,” I said, “what I mean. But have you noticed this further point?” 440e“What point?”“That the spirited part now appears to be the opposite of what we thought a moment ago. Then we supposed it was something appetitive; now we say it is far from that: in the civil war of the soul it takes up arms much more readily on the side of reason.”“Certainly,” he said.“Is it then distinct from reason too, or a kind of reason, so that the soul contains not three kinds but two, the rational and the appetitive? Or, just as three classes held the city together—the money-making, the auxiliary, and the deliberative—so is there a third part in the soul,

441a the spirited, by nature an auxiliary to reason unless corrupted by bad upbringing?”“It must be a third,” he said.“Yes,” I said, “provided it proves distinct from the rational part, just as it proved distinct from the appetitive.”“That is not hard to show,” he said. “One can see it even in children: they are full of spirit from the moment they are born, but some, it seems to me, never attain reason, 441b and most do so only late.”“By Zeus, well said,” I replied. “And in animals too one can see that what you say is true. Besides, there is the testimony of Homer's line we quoted before: ‘He struck his breast and rebuked his heart with words.’ For here Homer clearly makes the part that has reckoned what is better and worse 441c rebuke another part, which is angry without reckoning.”“You are entirely right,” he said.“So,” I said, “with difficulty we have swum through this question, and reached a fair agreement that the same kinds are present in the city and in each individual soul, and that their number is the same.”“That is so.”“Then it must follow that an individual is wise in the same way and by the same part as the city was wise.”“Of course.” 441d“And that by the same part and in the same manner in which an individual is courageous, the city too is courageous; and that in all else concerning virtue they stand alike?”“Necessarily.”“And so, Glaucon, I think we shall say that a man is just in the very way the city was just.”“That too necessarily follows.”“But we have not forgotten that the city was just because each of its three classes did its own work.”“I do not think we have forgotten,” he said.“Then we must remember that each of us too will be just, and will do his own work, when each of the parts within him 441e does its own work.”“We must indeed remember that,” he said.“Is it not proper for the rational part to rule, since it is wise and has foresight for the whole soul, and for the spirited part to obey and be its ally?”“Indeed.”“And will not the blending of music and physical training, as we said, bring these two into harmony, strengthening and nourishing the one with fine words and learning, relaxing the other with gentle encouragement and taming it with harmony and rhythm?”

442a “Certainly,” he said.“And these two, so nurtured and truly taught and trained in their own work, will stand guard over the appetitive part—the largest part of each person's soul, and by nature the most insatiable for money. They will watch lest it grow great and strong by filling itself with the so-called pleasures of the body, 442b and, instead of doing its own work, attempt to enslave and rule over what its kind has no right to rule, overturning the whole life of all three.”“Indeed,” he said.“And would they not also best defend the entire soul and body against enemies from outside, the one taking counsel and the other fighting in front, following its ruler and executing its decisions through courage?”“That is so.”“And I think we call each person courageous by virtue of this part, 442c when the spirit within him preserves through pains and pleasures reason's commands about what is to be feared and what is not.”“Right,” he said.“And wise by virtue of that small part which ruled within him and gave those commands, itself possessing knowledge of what benefits each of the three parts and the whole community they form.”“Indeed.”“And temperate through their friendship and accord, when the ruling part and the two ruled parts agree that the rational part should rule, 442d and do not rise against it?”“Temperance,” he said, “in city and individual alike, is surely nothing other than this.”“And just, as we have repeatedly said, he will be by virtue of this and in this way.”“Necessarily.”“Well then,” I said, “has our view of justice somehow grown dim? Does it seem to be anything other than what it appeared to be in the city?”“Not to me,” he said.“For we could make ourselves entirely certain,” I said, “if any doubt still remains in our souls, by bringing the ordinary cases before it.” 442e“What cases?”“Suppose we had to reach an agreement about that city and a man bred and raised in its likeness. Would such a man, having received a deposit of gold or silver, seem likely to steal it? Who, do you think, would believe that

436a Someone might especially blame the place itself, or say that love of money is especially strong among the Phoenicians and the people of Egypt.

“Certainly,” he said.

“That much is clear,” I said, “and not hard to see.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“But this is hard: do we do each of these things with the same part of ourselves, or do we use three parts, a different one for each? Do we learn with one part, get angry with another, and with a third desire the pleasures of food and sex and everything 436b like them? Or do we act with our whole soul in each case, whenever we set out to do something? These questions will be hard to settle properly.”

“I think so too,” he said.

“Then let’s try to decide this way whether these parts are the same as each other or different.”

“How?”

“Clearly the same thing will not do or undergo opposite things at the same time, in the same respect, and in relation to the same thing. So if we find opposites happening in them, we’ll know we aren’t dealing with one 436c thing but with more than one.”

“All right.”

“Think about what I mean.”

“Go on,” he said.

“Can the same thing,” I asked, “be still and moving at the same time and in the same respect?”

“Not at all.”

“Let’s agree on this more precisely, so we don’t argue as we go on. Suppose someone said that a man standing still but moving his hands and head is both still and moving at once. I don’t think we’d accept 436d that way of putting it. We’d say one part of him is still and another is moving. Right?”

“Right.”

“Suppose the person making this claim got even more clever and argued that spinning tops as wholes are both still and moving when they spin with their points fixed in the same place. He might say the same of anything else that rotates around a fixed spot. We wouldn’t accept that these things are still and moving at the same time in the same respect. 436e Instead, we’d say they have both an upright axis and a circular motion. As far as the upright axis goes, they stand still, since it doesn’t lean in any direction. As far as their rotation goes, they move in a circle. But when the axis tilts right or left or forward or backward while they spin, they aren’t standing still in any respect.”

“And we’d be right,” he said.

“So no such argument will startle us or persuade us that the same thing could ever, at the same time and in the same respect and in relation 437a to the same thing, undergo, be, or do opposites.”

“It won’t persuade me,” he said.

“Still,” I said, “we don’t want to spend too long going through all such objections and proving them false. Let’s take this principle as given and go forward. We’ll agree that if it ever turns out otherwise, every conclusion we draw from it will be undone.”

“Yes, that’s what we must do,” he said. 437b

“Would you count saying yes and saying no, wanting to take something and refusing it, drawing something toward yourself and pushing it away, as pairs of opposites? It makes no difference here whether we call them actions or experiences.”

“Yes,” he said, “they’re opposites.”

“Now what about thirst, hunger, and desires generally, as well as wanting and wishing? Wouldn’t you put all these 437c among the types we just mentioned? Won’t you say that the soul of someone who desires always reaches for the thing it desires, or draws toward itself what it wants to have? And when it wants something provided for it, doesn’t it give its own assent, as though answering a question, because it longs for that thing to happen?”

“Yes.”

“And won’t we put not wishing, not wanting, and not desiring under pushing away and driving off, all the opposites of those actions?” 437d

“Of course.”

“If that’s so, we’ll say there’s a class of desires, and that what we call thirst and hunger are among the clearest examples of it?”

“We will,” he said.

“One is desire for drink, the other for food?”

“Yes.”

“Now insofar as thirst is thirst, is it a desire in the soul for anything beyond what we’ve said? Is thirst, for instance, thirst for a hot drink or a cold one, for a large drink or a small one, or, in a word, for a drink of some particular kind? Or if heat is added 437e to the thirst, will that add a desire for something cold, and if cold is added, a desire for something hot? If the thirst is strong because something else makes it so, will it produce a desire for a lot, and if it’s weak, a desire for a little? But thirst itself will never be a desire for anything except what it is naturally for: drink itself. And hunger, in turn, is for food.”

“That’s right,” he said. “Each desire in itself is only for what it naturally seeks. Its desire for a particular kind of thing comes from something added to it.”

438a “Let’s not let someone confuse us before we think this through. They might say nobody wants a drink, only a good drink, and nobody wants food, only good food. After all, everyone wants good things, so if thirst is a desire, it must be a desire for a good drink, or for a good whatever else it seeks. They’d say the same about all other desires.”

“The person saying that might sound convincing,” he said.

“But whenever things are related to something,” I said, “things of a particular kind are related to something of a particular kind, 438b I think. Each thing taken by itself is related only to its object taken by itself.”

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“Don’t you understand that being bigger means being bigger than something?” I asked.

“Certainly.”

“Than something smaller?”

“Yes.”

“And being much bigger means being bigger than something much smaller. Right?”

“Yes.”

“And what was bigger is bigger than what was smaller, while what will be bigger is bigger than what will be smaller?”

“Of course,” he said. 438c

“And more is related to less, double to half, and so on. Heavier relates to lighter, faster to slower, hotter to colder, and everything similar works the same way, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“What about kinds of knowledge? Isn’t it the same? Knowledge itself is knowledge of a subject itself, or whatever it is that we must say knowledge is of. But a particular kind of knowledge is knowledge of a particular 438d kind of subject. Here’s what I mean. When there came to be knowledge of making houses, didn’t it differ from other kinds of knowledge and get called building?”

“Of course.”

“Wasn’t that because it was a kind different from all the others?”

“Yes.”

“So it became a particular kind because it was knowledge of a particular kind of thing? And the same goes for the other skills and kinds of knowledge?”

“It does.”

“Then you can see what I meant: things that are related to something are, taken alone, related to their objects taken alone. When they have a particular character, they’re related to objects with a particular character. 438e I don’t mean that knowledge takes on the qualities of its subject, as if knowledge of healthy and unhealthy things were itself healthy and unhealthy, or knowledge of good and bad things were itself good and bad. Rather, knowledge came to be knowledge not of a subject taken by itself, but of a particular kind of subject: healthy and unhealthy things. So the knowledge itself became a particular kind. That’s why we no longer simply call it knowledge; with its particular subject added, we call it medicine.”

“I understand,” he said, “and I think that’s right.”

439a “Then wouldn’t you put thirst among those things that are related to an object? Thirst is, of course, thirst for—”

“Yes,” he said, “for drink.”

“So thirst for a particular kind of drink is itself a particular kind of thirst. But thirst itself is not for a lot or a little, for a good drink or a bad one, or, in short, for a drink of any particular kind. Thirst itself is naturally for drink itself. Right?”

“Absolutely.”

“So the soul of a thirsty person, insofar as it’s thirsty, wants nothing 439b but to drink. It reaches for drink and moves toward it.”

“Obviously.”

“Then if anything pulls the soul back when it’s thirsty, there must be something in it other than the thirst that drives it toward drink like an animal. For, as we said, the same thing cannot do opposite things at the same time, with the same part of itself, in relation to the same object.”

“No, it can’t.”

“It would be wrong, I think, to say that an archer’s hands both push the bow away and pull it toward him at once. One hand pushes it away, and the other pulls it toward him.” 439c

“Exactly,” he said.

“Shall we say that some thirsty people sometimes don’t want to drink?”

“Yes,” he said, “many people, often.”

“What should we say about them?” I asked. “Isn’t there something in their souls urging them to drink and another thing preventing them? The one preventing them is different from, and stronger than, the one urging them.”

“That seems right to me,” he said.

“Doesn’t the restraint, when it comes, come from reasoning, 439d while the forces pushing and pulling come from feelings and bodily conditions?”

“So it seems.”

“Then we have good reason,” I said, “to regard these as two different things. We call the part of the soul with which it reasons the reasoning part. We call the part with which it loves, hungers, thirsts, and gets worked up over other desires the unreasoning, desiring part. It’s attached to gratification and pleasure.” 439e

“Yes,” he said, “it makes sense to think of them that way.”

“Let’s set these down as two kinds within the soul. But what about the spirited part, with which we get angry? Is it a third kind, or does it share the nature of one of the other two?”

“Perhaps it’s like the desiring part,” he said.

“But I once heard a story that I believe,” I said. “Leontius, the son of Aglaion, was walking up from Piraeus outside the north wall. He noticed bodies lying near the executioner. He wanted to look at them, but at the same time he was disgusted and tried to turn away. For a while he struggled and covered his eyes.

440a But his desire got the better of him. He forced his eyes wide open, ran up to the bodies, and said, ‘There you are, you wretches! Have your fill of that lovely sight!’”

“I’ve heard that story too,” he said.

“It shows,” I said, “that anger sometimes fights against desire, as one thing against another.”

“It does,” he said.

“And don’t we notice this in many other cases?” I asked. “When desires 440b force someone to act against his reasoning, he scolds himself and gets angry with the part inside him that’s forcing him. It’s like a fight between two sides, with his spirit taking reason’s side. But I don’t think you could say you’ve ever noticed your spirit siding with desire when reason decides not to resist it. I don’t think you’ve seen that happen in yourself or anyone else.”

“No, by Zeus,” he said. 440c

“And when someone thinks he has done wrong? The more decent he is, the less able he is to get angry with a person whom he believes is treating him justly. That holds even if he goes hungry or cold or suffers anything of the sort at that person’s hands. As I say, his spirit refuses to rise against him. Right?”

“True,” he said.

“But when he thinks he’s being wronged, doesn’t his spirit boil with anger and fight for what seems just? Despite hunger, cold, and every such hardship, it holds out and wins. It never gives up its brave efforts until it succeeds or dies, 440d or until its own reason calls it back and calms it, as a shepherd calls back a dog.”

“Yes, that’s just what it seems like,” he said. “And in our city we made the auxiliaries like dogs, obedient to the rulers as though the rulers were the shepherds of the city.”

“You understand my point well,” I said. “But have you also noticed this?” 440e

“What?”

“That the spirited part now looks like the opposite of what we thought a moment ago. Then we thought it was something desiring. Now we say it’s far from that. In the soul’s civil war, it’s much more likely to take up arms on the side of reason.”

“Absolutely,” he said.

“So is it different from reason too, or is it a kind of reason? If it’s the latter, the soul has only two kinds, reasoning and desiring, rather than three. But perhaps the soul has a third part, spirit, just as the city was held together by three

441a classes: the money-making class, the auxiliaries, and the decision-makers. Spirit is reason’s natural ally, unless bad upbringing corrupts it.”

“It has to be a third part,” he said.

“Yes,” I said, “provided it proves to be distinct from the reasoning part, just as it proved to be distinct from the desiring part.”

“That’s easy to see,” he said. “You can see it in children. They’re full of spirit from birth, but some, it seems to me, never develop reason, and most develop it only 441b late in life.”

“Yes, by Zeus, well said,” I answered. “You can also see that it’s so in animals. And the passage from Homer we mentioned earlier supports this:

‘He struck his chest and scolded his heart with words.’

Here Homer clearly presents 441c the part that has worked out what’s better and worse as rebuking a different part, the one that’s angry without reasoning.”

“You’re quite right,” he said.

“Well,” I said, “we’ve made it through this with difficulty, and we’ve agreed fairly well that the city and each person’s soul contain the same kinds of parts, equal in number.”

“That’s so.”

“Then it follows that a person is wise in the same way, and by the same part, as the city was wise.”

“Of course.” 441d

“And a person is brave in the same way and by the same part as the city is brave. The same will be true of both for all the other virtues.”

“It must be.”

“And I think, Glaucon, we’ll say that a person is just in the same way that the city was just.”

“That too must be so.”

“We haven’t forgotten that the city was just because each of its three classes did its own work.”

“I don’t think we have,” he said.

“Then we must remember that each of us will also be just and do our own work when 441e each of our inner parts does its own work.”

“Yes,” he said, “we must remember that.”

“Isn’t it right for the reasoning part to rule, since it is wise and looks after the whole soul? And for the spirited part to obey it and support it?”

“Certainly.”

“Then won’t the blend of music and physical training we spoke of bring these two into harmony? It will strengthen and

442a nourish the reasoning part with good words and studies. It will relax and soothe the spirited part, making it gentle through melody and rhythm.”

“Exactly,” he said.

“Once these two have been raised in this way, have truly learned their own jobs, and been trained, they’ll take charge of the desiring part. That’s the largest part of each person’s soul and is naturally the most insatiable for money. They’ll watch it so that, as it fills up on what people call bodily pleasures and grows large and strong, 442b it doesn’t stop doing its own work and try instead to enslave and rule parts it has no right to rule. That would turn the whole of everyone’s life upside down.”

“Exactly,” he said.

“And wouldn’t these two parts also best protect the whole soul and body from enemies outside? One would plan, and the other would fight in the front line, following its ruler and carrying out its decisions with courage.”

“That’s right.”

“And I think we call a person brave on account of this part 442c when his spirited part keeps hold, through pain and pleasure, of reason’s instructions about what is and isn’t to be feared.”

“That’s right,” he said.

“And we call him wise because of that small part that rules within him and gives these instructions. That part also has knowledge of what benefits each of the three parts and all three together.”

“Exactly.”

“And isn’t he self-controlled because these parts are friendly and agree? That is, the ruling part and the two ruled parts all agree 442d that reason should rule, and the other two don’t rebel against it.”

“That, in a city or an individual, is exactly what self-control is,” he said.

“And a person will be just in the way we’ve so often described.”

“He must be.”

“Now, has anything happened to blur our view of justice and make it seem different from what we found in the city?” I asked.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

“If any doubt remains in our minds,” I said, “we can settle it completely 442e by testing it against ordinary cases.”

“What sort of cases?”

“Suppose we had to decide whether that city and a man raised and brought up in the same way as it would steal gold or silver entrusted to him for safekeeping. Who do you think would believe