Book VI, 493–500

493a becomes what it ought to be in such a condition of political life—you will not be wrong to say that a divine dispensation preserved it.”

“I think so too,” he said.

“Now add this to your understanding,” I said.

“What?”

“Each of the private teachers who takes a fee, whom these people call sophists and regard as their rivals, teaches nothing other than the opinions the multitude forms when assembled, and calls this wisdom. It is as if someone were raising a huge, powerful beast and made a careful study of its moods and 493b appetites: how to approach it and where to touch it, when it is fiercest or gentlest and what brings on either state, what sounds it habitually makes in each circumstance, and what sounds from another person soothe or provoke it. Suppose that, having learned all this by living with it over time, he called his knowledge wisdom, organized it into an art, and set out to teach it, though he had no true understanding of which of the beast's opinions and appetites were beautiful or shameful, 493c good or bad, just or unjust. He would assign all these names according to the great animal's judgments, calling what pleases it good and what troubles it bad, with no further account to give, and calling what is necessary just and beautiful, although he had neither seen the real difference between the necessary and the good nor could show it to another. By Zeus, would you not find such a teacher absurd?”

“I would,” he said.

“493d Do you see any difference between him and someone who thinks wisdom consists in understanding the moods and pleasures of the motley multitude when it gathers, whether in painting, music, or politics? For if a person associates with the crowd and puts his poetry, some other handiwork, or service to the city on display, making the multitude his master beyond what is unavoidable, a so-called Diomedean necessity forces him to do what they applaud. But have you ever heard one of these men offer an account, not laughable, showing that what the crowd applauds really is good and beautiful?”

“I doubt,” he said, “that I ever shall.” 493e

“Bearing all this in mind, remember one thing: can a multitude ever accept, or believe in, the beautiful itself instead of the many beautiful things, or any one thing itself instead of its many instances? 494a”

“Certainly not,” he said.

“Then it is impossible,” I said, “for a multitude to be philosophic.”

“Impossible.”

“And philosophers must therefore be censured by them.”

“They must.”

“And also by those private teachers who associate with the crowd and seek its approval.”

“Clearly.”

“From all this, what prospect do you see for a philosophic nature to stay with its pursuit and reach its goal? Think back to what we established: quickness to learn, memory, courage, and greatness of soul belong to this nature.” 494b

“Yes.”

“Will such a person not stand out among all children from the start, especially if his body matches his soul?”

“Of course he will,” he said.

“And as he grows older, both his family and his fellow citizens will want to use him for their own purposes, I imagine.”

“Of course.” 494c

“So they will fall at his feet with requests and honors, courting his future power in advance with flattery.”

“That is what usually happens,” he said.

“What do you think,” I asked, “such a man will do amid all this, especially if he comes from a great city and is wealthy and wellborn there, handsome as well as tall? Will he not be filled with impossible hopes, imagining himself capable of managing 494d the affairs of Greeks and foreigners alike, and on this account lift himself high, swollen with empty pretension and pride, without understanding?”

“Indeed he will,” he said.

“If someone quietly approaches a person in this state and tells him the truth—that he lacks understanding and needs it, and that it cannot be acquired without submitting to the discipline of acquiring it—do you think he can readily hear this amid so many evils?”

“Far from it,” he said.

“494e Suppose, though,” I said, “that because of his good nature and some kinship with these arguments, he somehow senses their truth and turns and is drawn toward philosophy. What do we think the people who believe they are losing his services and companionship will do? Will they not say and do everything they can to keep him from being persuaded, and do everything to the one persuading him to make him powerless, laying plots in private and bringing public charges against him?”

495a “They surely will,” he said.

“Is there any way, then, for such a person to practice philosophy?”

“Hardly.”

“Do you see,” I said, “that we were not wrong to say that even the very qualities of a philosophic nature, when they receive a bad upbringing, contribute in a way to its falling away from its pursuit, along with what are called good things—wealth and all such advantages?”

“We were right,” he said.

“This, my extraordinary friend,” I said, “is how far and how deeply 495b the finest nature may be ruined and corrupted, though it is rare to begin with, as we say. And it is from such men that those who do the greatest evil to cities and private individuals arise, as well as those who do the greatest good, if the current happens to carry them that way. A small nature never does anything great for anyone, whether an individual or a city.” 495b

“Very true,” he said.

“These people, then, 495c fall away, though philosophy belongs most properly to them. They leave her desolate and unfulfilled, while they themselves lead lives that are neither fitting nor true. And others, unworthy intruders, enter into her company as if she were an orphan bereft of kin; they disgrace her and fasten on her the reproaches you say her critics make: that some of her companions are worth nothing, and most deserve blame for many evils.” 495c

“That is what people say,” he replied.

“And reasonably so,” I said. “For other little men see this territory deserted yet filled with splendid names and pretensions. 495d Like prisoners fleeing from jail to take refuge at shrines, they gladly leap from their trades into philosophy, especially the cleverest at their own petty craft. Even in her present state philosophy retains a dignity grander than the other crafts. Many aspire to it who are incomplete in nature, whose bodies have been maimed by their trades and manual work, 495e and whose souls have likewise been stunted and crushed by their menial occupations. Is it not inevitable?”

“Entirely,” he said. 495e

“Do you think they look any different,” I asked, “from a short, bald coppersmith who has made some money, lately released from chains, freshly washed at the baths, wearing a new cloak and arrayed as a bridegroom, about to marry his master's daughter because her father is poor and left alone?”

“Not very different,” he said. 496a

“What children would such a pair likely bring forth? Bastards and weaklings, surely?”

“Necessarily.”

“And when those unworthy of education approach philosophy and consort with her in a manner unworthy of her, what thoughts and opinions shall we say they produce? Are they not what truly deserve the name of sophisms, with nothing legitimate in them and nothing [worthy of] genuine understanding?”

“Absolutely,” he said.

“Very few remain, then, Adeimantus,” I said, “who 496b consort with philosophy as she deserves. Perhaps there is a noble and well-brought-up character, kept away from corruption by exile, who remains faithful to her by nature for want of those who would corrupt him; or a great soul is born in a little city, despises its affairs, and looks beyond them. A few of good nature may also come to her from another craft, rightly despising their own. There might also be a restraint capable of holding someone back, such as that 496c of our companion Theages: all the other conditions for falling away from philosophy are present in Theages, but the infirmity of his body keeps him out of politics and holds him fast. As for my own case, the divine sign, it is hardly worth mentioning; it has come to scarcely anyone before me, if to anyone at all. Now these few who have become philosophers and tasted how sweet and blessed a possession philosophy is, who have also seen enough of the madness of the many, and seen that hardly anyone acts soundly in the affairs of cities, and that there is 496d no ally with whom a man can go to defend justice and remain safe—such a man is like someone who has fallen among wild beasts. Unwilling to join in their wrongdoing and unable alone to withstand all their savagery, he would perish before doing his city or his friends any good, and be of no use either to himself or to others. Considering all this, he keeps quiet and minds his own affairs, like a man who takes shelter behind a little wall when wind drives dust and rain in a storm. Seeing the others filled with lawlessness, he is content if he can somehow live his life here unstained by injustice and impious 496e deeds, and depart from it with good hope, gracious and at peace.”

497a “Yet he would have accomplished no small thing before departing,” he said.

“Nor the greatest,” I said, “since he has not found a constitution suited to him. Under one that suited him he would grow greater himself and preserve the public good along with his own. So much for the sources of philosophy's bad name and why she does not deserve it; I think we have said enough, unless you have something more to add.”

“I have nothing more to add on that point,” he said. “But which of the present constitutions do you say suits her?” 497b

“Not a single one,” I said. “My very complaint is that no present political order is worthy of a philosophic nature. That is why it becomes twisted and altered. As a foreign seed sown in another soil commonly loses its own character and is overcome by the native growth, so now this kind of nature cannot hold to its own power but falls into an alien character. But if it obtains the finest constitution, as it is itself the finest, it will show that it is truly divine, while all the other kinds of natures and pursuits are human. I can see that your next question will be what this constitution is.” 497c

“You have it wrong,” he said. “I meant to ask whether it is the very one we have described while founding our city, or another.”

“In other respects, this very one,” I said. “But we said even then that there must always be something in the city that holds the same understanding of the constitution that you, its lawgiver, held when you established the laws.”

“Yes, we did,” he said. 497d

“But we did not make it clear enough,” I said, “for fear of the objections you raised, which have made clear how long and difficult its demonstration is. And what remains is not altogether easy to explain.”

“What remains?”

“How a city may take up philosophy without being destroyed. For everything great is precarious, and as the saying goes, what is beautiful is truly hard.”

“All the same,” he said, “let the demonstration come to its end by making this clear.” 497e

“It will not be unwillingness,” I said, “that prevents me, but lack of ability, if anything. Here beside me, you will see my eagerness. See even now how eagerly and boldly I am about to say that a city must engage in this pursuit in the opposite way from its present practice.”

“How?”

“At present,” I said, “even those who take it up do so as boys just emerging from childhood. 498a In the interval before household management and moneymaking claim them, they approach its most difficult part and then leave it behind, even those reputed the most devoted to philosophy. By its most difficult part I mean the study of arguments. Later, if invited by others engaged in it, they think it a great thing even to agree to listen, regarding it as a sideline. And by old age, except for a very few, they are extinguished far more completely than 498b Heraclitus's sun, since they are not rekindled.”

“How should it be, then?” he asked.

“Entirely the opposite. As boys and youths they should undertake education and philosophy suited to their youth, taking excellent care of their bodies while these are growing to maturity, so as to secure an instrument for philosophy. As age advances and the soul begins to reach perfection, they should intensify the soul's exercises. And when their strength wanes and they are free of political duties and campaigns, those who are to live happily and, after death, meet with a destiny there befitting the life they have lived should at last be left free to range at will, doing nothing else except as an incidental task.” 498c

“You certainly sound eager, Socrates,” he said. “But I think most of your listeners will oppose you with even greater eagerness and refuse to be persuaded in the slightest, beginning with Thrasymachus.”

“Don't set me against Thrasymachus,” I said, “when we have only just become friends and were not enemies before. We shall spare no effort until we persuade him and the others, or at least do something useful for that life when they are born again and meet with arguments of this kind.” 498d

“A short time you have in mind,” he said.

“No time at all,” I said, “compared with the whole of time. Still, it is no wonder the many do not believe what we say. Never have they seen what we are speaking of come to pass. 498e Rather, they have seen phrases deliberately made to resemble one another, not arguments that have come together naturally as ours have. Nor have they ever seen a man matched and made as like to virtue as humanly possible, in word and deed alike, 499a ruling in a city of like character—not one man, let alone several.”

“Never,” he said.

“Nor, my good friend, have they heard enough arguments that are noble and free, arguments that strain in every way to seek the truth for the sake of knowing it, while holding far off those clever, contentious devices aimed only at reputation and quarrels, whether in courts or private gatherings.”

“No, they have not,” he said.

“For these reasons,” I said, “and foreseeing this, we spoke then despite our fears, compelled by the truth: no city, constitution, or individual can ever become perfect until some chance necessity forces these few philosophers, not wicked but now called useless, to care for a city, whether they wish it or not, and forces the city to obey; or until a true love of true philosophy falls by some divine inspiration upon the sons of those now in power or upon the rulers themselves. I say there is no reason to maintain that either of these things, or both, is impossible. Otherwise we would rightly be laughed at for speaking only in the language of wishful prayer. Don't you agree?” 499b 499c

“I do.”

“If, then, in the boundless time past some necessity has forced those supreme in philosophy to take charge of a city, or if it is happening now in some foreign land far beyond our sight, or if it will happen in the future, we are ready to defend in argument that the constitution we have described has existed, does exist, and will exist whenever this Muse takes possession of a city. It is not impossible, and we do not speak of impossibilities; but we too admit it is difficult.” 499d

“I think so too,” he said.

“But you will say that the many do not think so?” I asked.

“Perhaps,” he said.

“My friend,” I said, “do not accuse the many so severely. 499e They will think differently if, instead of contending with them, you gently address them and remove the slander against the love of learning, showing them whom you mean by philosophers and 500a distinguishing their nature and pursuit as we just did, so that they do not think you mean the people they have in mind. [Even if they look at them in that way, will you claim that they will not change their minds and answer differently?] Do you think anyone whose own nature is generous and gentle grows angry at one who is not angry, or envies one who is free of envy? Let me anticipate you: I think that a nature so harsh arises in a few, not in the multitude.”

“I think so too, certainly,” he said. 500b

“Then agree with this as well: those responsible for the multitude's harsh attitude to philosophy are the outsiders who burst in where they do not belong, abusing one another, delighting in hostility, and always making people the subject of their arguments—conduct least fitting to philosophy.”

“Very much so,” he said.

“For surely, Adeimantus, someone whose mind is truly fixed on things that are has no leisure to look down upon 500c human affairs, quarrel with people, and fill himself with envy and ill will. Instead, looking at things ordered and forever the same, seeing them neither wronging nor wronged by one another, but all arranged in harmony and according to reason, such people imitate them and make themselves as like them as they can. Or do you think it possible for a person not to imitate what he admires and lives in company with?”

“Impossible,” he said.

“Then the philosopher, keeping company with what is divine and orderly, becomes orderly and divine so far as a human being can, though slander abounds in every sphere.” 500d

“Indeed.”

“If, then,” I said, “some necessity compels him to put into practice what he sees there, shaping human characters in private and public life instead of shaping only his own, do you think he will prove a poor craftsman of temperance, justice, and every virtue belonging to a community?”

“Far from it,” he said.

“But if the many realize that what we say of him is true, will they be angry with philosophers and distrust us when we say that a city can never be happy unless it is drawn by painters who use the divine pattern?” 500e

“They will not be angry, if they realize it,” he said.

“But then—

493a “becomes what they ought to be in political systems like these, you would not be wrong to say that a god saved them.”

“I don't see it any other way either,” he said.

“And there's something else you should think about,” I said.

“What?”

“Each of the private teachers who take payment, whom these people call sophists and consider rivals, teaches nothing but the beliefs held by the crowd when it gathers together. He calls that wisdom. Imagine a person raising a large, strong animal who learns its moods and appetites. He learns where to approach and touch it, when it is fiercest or tamest and what brings on each mood. 493b He learns what sounds it makes in each situation, and what sounds from other people soothe or enrage it. After spending time with it and learning all this, he calls it wisdom, organizes it into a skill, and starts teaching it. But he doesn't really know whether the animal's beliefs and desires are beautiful or shameful, 493c good or bad, just or unjust. He uses all these names according to the great beast's opinions. What pleases it he calls good; what annoys it he calls bad. He has no other account of these things. He calls what is necessary just and beautiful. But he has never seen how different necessity is from goodness, and he cannot show that difference to anyone else. By Zeus, wouldn't you find a teacher like that absurd?”

“I would,” he said.

493d “Now, is someone any different who thinks wisdom means understanding the moods and pleasures of a crowd of all kinds of people, whether in painting, music, or politics? If a person presents a poem, another work, or a public service to such people and gives the crowd authority over themselves beyond what is necessary, then the so-called necessity of Diomedes forces that person to do whatever the crowd praises. But have you ever heard anyone among them give an account that isn't laughable of why these things really are good and beautiful?” 493e

“I don't think I ever will,” he said.

“Keep all this in mind, and remember this: can a crowd ever accept beauty itself rather than the many beautiful things, or any single thing itself 494a rather than the many things of that kind? Do you think it can?”

“Not at all,” he said.

“So a crowd cannot be philosophical,” I said.

“It cannot.”

“And that means it will blame people who practice philosophy.”

“It must.”

“As will those private individuals who mix with the crowd and want to please it.”

“Clearly.”

“Given all this, what way do you see for a person with a philosophical nature to survive, stay with that pursuit, and reach its goal? Think about what we said 494b earlier. We agreed that ease in learning, memory, courage, and breadth of mind belong to that nature.”

“Yes.”

“Won't such a person stand out above all other children from the start, especially if the body matches the soul?”

“Of course,” he said.

“When the person grows older, I expect family and fellow citizens will want to use them for their own purposes.”

“Of course.” 494c

“They'll humble themselves, ask favors, and offer honors. They'll try in advance to secure the person's future power by flattery.”

“That is what tends to happen,” he said.

“What do you think such a person will do in these circumstances?” I asked. “Especially if they come from a great city and are rich and wellborn there, and handsome and tall as well? Won't they be filled with impossibly high hopes, thinking they can manage the affairs of both Greeks and foreigners? Won't they get carried away, full of empty pride and posturing rather than good sense?” 494d

“Certainly,” he said.

“If someone quietly approaches a person in that state and tells them the truth—that they lack understanding and need it, and that they can gain it only by working hard for it—do you think they'll readily listen amid all those harmful influences?”

“Far from it,” he said.

“But suppose,” I said, “that their good nature and an affinity for these arguments make them somehow sense the truth, turn around, and feel drawn to philosophy. What do we think the people who fear losing the person's help and company will do? Won't they say and do everything they can to keep the person from being persuaded? And won't they act against the persuader as well, plotting in private and bringing public charges to stop him?” 495a

“They're sure to,” he said.

“Can someone in this position still become a philosopher?”

“Hardly.”

“Then you see why we weren't wrong,” I said, “to claim that, with a bad upbringing, even the qualities of a philosophical nature can in a way make someone fall away from the pursuit. The same goes for so-called good things, such as wealth and all the other advantages.”

“Yes, we were right,” he said.

“That, my friend,” I said, “is how a nature best suited to the best pursuit can be ruined 495b so thoroughly. Such natures are rare to begin with, as we have said. People of this kind are the source of the greatest harm to cities and individuals, and also of the greatest good if they happen to turn that way. A small nature never does anything great to anyone, whether an individual or a city.”

“Very true,” he said.

“These people, then, fall away from the pursuit they are most suited to. They leave philosophy alone and unfinished, and live lives that don't fit them and aren't genuine. 495c Then others who aren't worthy of it come in, like strangers claiming an orphan with no family. They bring it shame and give it the bad name you mentioned: according to its critics, some who associate with philosophy are worth nothing, while most deserve blame for many bad things.”

“Yes, that's what people say,” he said.

“And understandably so,” I said. “Other small-minded people see that this position has been left empty, but is full of impressive names and appearances. They are glad to jump out of their trades into philosophy, 495d like prisoners escaping into temples for refuge. The ones who do so are often the cleverest at their own little craft. Philosophy still has greater standing than the other trades, even when it is treated this way. Many people want that status. Their natures are incomplete. Their trades and manual work have damaged their souls and cramped and broken them, just as physical work has damaged their bodies. Isn't that inevitable?” 495e

“It certainly is,” he said.

“Don't they look just like a little bald metalworker who has made some money, has just been released from prison, has bathed at the public baths, and wears a new cloak? He has dressed himself as a bridegroom and is about to marry his master's daughter because her family has become poor and has no one to protect her.”

496a “They look much the same,” he said.

“What kind of children are such people likely to produce? Illegitimate and poor-quality ones, surely?”

“Of course.”

“And when people unworthy of education come close to philosophy and associate with it without deserving to, what kinds of thoughts and beliefs will they produce? Won't these rightly be called sophistries? None will be genuine or [worthy] of true understanding.”

“Absolutely,” he said.

“Only a very small number remain, Adeimantus,” I said, “who associate 496b with philosophy as they should. One may be a noble, well-raised character kept in exile. Without people around to corrupt them, they remain true to their nature and to philosophy. Another may be a great soul born in a small city who looks down on its politics and ignores them. A few gifted people might also come from another trade to philosophy, rightly thinking little of their old work. Our friend Theages may be held back as if by a bridle. 496c Everything else in his life would draw him away from philosophy, but his poor health keeps him out of politics and holds him there. My own case, the divine sign, hardly deserves mention: it has happened to few if any before me. Those few who have come to philosophy taste how sweet and happy it is. They also see clearly enough the madness of the crowd, and see that almost no one does anything sound in the affairs of cities. There is no ally with whom they can safely go to the defense of justice. 496d It is as if a person had fallen among wild beasts. They won't join in doing wrong, but they cannot, alone, resist all the savage animals. They would die before doing any good for their city or their friends, helping neither themselves nor anyone else. Seeing all this, they stay quiet and mind their own business. Like someone standing under a little wall in a storm to get out of the windblown dust and rain, they watch everyone else fill their lives with lawlessness. They are content if they can live their own life free of injustice and unholy acts 496e and leave it with good hope, in a gracious and peaceful frame of mind.”

497a “Even so,” he said, “that would be no small achievement before they left this life.”

“But not the greatest,” I said, “since they did not find a suitable political system. In a suitable one they would develop further themselves, and save the public good along with their own.”

“So I think we've explained fairly well why philosophy has a bad name and why it doesn't deserve one, unless you still have something to say.”

“I have nothing more on that point,” he said. “But which present political system do you say suits philosophy?” 497b

“Not one of them,” I said. “That's exactly my complaint: no present city is organized in a way worthy of a philosophical nature. This is why that nature is twisted and changed. A foreign seed planted in different soil tends to lose its character and take on that of its new location. In the same way, this nature now fails to keep its own strength and takes on an alien character. But if it finds the best political system, 497c as it is itself the best nature, it will show that it really was divine, while other natures and pursuits were merely human. Obviously, you're about to ask which political system that is.”

“You've guessed wrong,” he said. “I was going to ask whether it's the one we've described while founding our city, or another.”

“In other respects, that one,” I said. “But we did say even then that the city would always need someone who understands the political system as you, its lawgiver, understood it when you laid down the laws.” 497d

“Yes, we said that,” he replied.

“But we didn't make it clear enough,” I said, “because I was afraid of the objections you raised. You have shown that explaining it will take a long and difficult argument. The remaining part isn't exactly easy to go through either.”

“What part?”

“How a city must handle philosophy without being destroyed. All great things are risky, and the saying that beautiful things really are difficult is true.” 497e

“Still,” he said, “finish the argument by making that clear.”

“If anything stops me,” I said, “it won't be a lack of willingness, but perhaps a lack of ability. You'll see my willingness for yourself, here and now. Notice how eager I am to take a risk: I'm going to say a city must take up this pursuit in the opposite way from the way it does now.”

“How?”

“Today,” I said, “even the people who do take it up are young men, 498a just out of childhood. In the time between managing a household and earning money, they approach its hardest part, then leave it behind. Yet they're considered the most devoted philosophers. By the hardest part, I mean discussion and argument. Later, they think it a great achievement to listen when invited to hear others practice philosophy; they see it as something to do on the side. And when they reach old age, all but a few are extinguished more thoroughly than Heraclitus' sun, since they never light up again.” 498b

“How should it be done?” he asked.

“Entirely the other way around. Children and young people should study and practice philosophy in ways suited to their age. While their bodies grow to maturity, they should take especially good care of them, to make them fit to serve philosophy. As they get older and their souls begin to reach maturity, they should work their souls harder. Once their physical strength fades and they are free from political and military duties, 498c they should be allowed to roam freely in the field of philosophy. Apart from minor tasks, they should do nothing else, if they are to live happily and, after death, have a fate that fits the life they have lived.”

“You certainly sound eager about this, Socrates,” he said. “But I think most of your listeners will be even more eager to oppose it. They won't be convinced at all, starting with Thrasymachus.”

“Don't try to set Thrasymachus against me,” I said. “We have just become friends, though we weren't enemies before. 498d We won't stop trying until we persuade him and the others, or at least do something useful for the next life, when they are born again and come across arguments like these.”

“That's a very short time you're talking about,” he said.

“It's nothing compared with all time,” I said. “Still, it's no wonder the crowd isn't persuaded. They've never seen what we're now talking about actually happen. They've seen words deliberately made to resemble one another, rather than fitting together naturally as ours do now. 498e But they've never seen a person who matches and resembles virtue as fully as possible in both action and speech, holding power 499a in a city that matches that person. They've never seen even one, much less several. Or do you think they have?”

“Not at all.”

“Nor, my friend, have they heard enough beautiful, free discussions. Those discussions work hard in every way to find the truth for the sake of knowing it. They keep far away from clever, combative talk that aims at nothing but reputation and a quarrel, whether in court or in private conversation.”

“They haven't heard those either,” he said.

“For these reasons,” I said, “we saw what was ahead and were afraid when we said what we did. But the truth forced us to say 499b that no city, political system, or person will ever become fully good until some chance compels these few decent philosophers, now called useless, to take care of a city, whether they want to or not, and compels the city to listen. Or a true love of true philosophy must, through some divine inspiration, come to the sons of present rulers or kings, or to those rulers themselves. I see no reason to say either of these things, or both, is impossible. If we did, people would rightly laugh at us for talking as if we were merely making wishes. Don't you agree?” 499c

“I do.”

“So if in the endless past the best philosophers have been compelled to take charge of a city, or if that's happening now somewhere in a foreign land far outside our view, or if it happens in the future, we are ready to defend this claim: the political system we've described has existed, exists, and will exist when this Muse takes control of a city. 499d It isn't impossible, and we aren't describing impossible things. We agree, though, that they're difficult.”

“I think so too,” he said.

“But you'll say that most people don't think so,” I said.

“Perhaps,” he said.

499e “My friend,” I said, “don't blame the crowd quite so much. They'll change their minds if, instead of picking a fight with them, you speak gently and clear away the slander against the love of learning. Show them which people you mean by philosophers. 500a Explain their nature and their pursuit as we just did, so they won't think you mean the people they have in mind. [Even if they do look at them in this way, won't you say they'll take a different view and answer differently?] Do you think someone gentle and without envy gets angry at a gentle person, or envies someone who doesn't envy others? I'll tell you first that I think a difficult nature like that occurs among a few individuals, not in the crowd.”

“I agree,” he said. 500b

“Then agree to this too: the crowd's hostility to philosophy comes from outsiders who have burst in where they don't belong. They insult each other, love feuding, and always talk about people. Nothing could be less fitting for philosophy.”

“That's certainly true,” he said.

“Adeimantus,” I said, “someone whose mind is truly fixed on what is real has no time to look down at 500c human affairs, fight with people, and fill up with envy and hostility. Instead, philosophers look at things that are ordered and always remain the same. They see that these things neither wrong one another nor suffer wrong at one another's hands, but all follow an order and reason. They imitate them and become as like them as possible. Do you think anyone can admire what they spend time with without imitating it?”

“It's impossible,” he said.

500d “By spending time with what is divine and orderly, then, a philosopher becomes orderly and divine, as far as a human being can. Of course, people can be slandered in all sorts of ways.”

“Certainly.”

“So if the philosopher has to put what they see there into practice among human beings, shaping the characters of individuals and of the public, and not just their own character, do you think they'll be bad at making self-control, justice, and all the virtues people need to live together?”

“Not at all,” he said.

“But if the crowd realizes we're telling the truth about the philosopher, will they still be angry with philosophers? Will they refuse to believe us when we say a city can be happy only if artists who use the divine pattern draw its design?” 500e

“They won't be angry if they realize it,” he said.

“But then—”