Plato · a new plain-English translation from the Greek
SOCRATES: What is law, for us? COMPANION: What sort of law do you mean by that question? SOCRATES: What do you mean? Does one law differ from another precisely in respect of being law? Consider what I'm actually asking you. It's as if I had asked what gold is, and you had asked me in return what sort of gold I meant — I don't think that would be a fair question to ask back. Gold doesn't differ from gold, nor stone from stone, in respect of being stone or being gold. In the same way, no law differs from any other law in that respect — they're all the same thing. Each of them is law in exactly the same way, not one more so and another less so. So this is exactly what I'm asking: what is the whole of it, law? If you have an answer ready, tell me. COMPANION: What else could law be, Socrates, than the things that are customarily held? SOCRATES: Do you think that speech is the same as the things spoken, or sight the same as the things seen, or hearing the same as the things heard? Or is speech one thing and the things spoken another; sight one thing and the things seen another; hearing one thing and the things heard another — and so too, is law one thing and the things customarily held another? Which do you think? COMPANION: Now that you put it that way, I see they're different. SOCRATES: Then law is not the things customarily held. COMPANION: I don't think it is.
SOCRATES: Then what could law be? Let's look at it this way. If someone asked us, following up on what we just said — since you claim that sight is what sees the things seen, what is sight, that it sees by means of it? — we'd answer that it's that perception which reveals things to us through the eyes. And if he then asked, well, since hearing is what hears the things heard, what is hearing, that it hears by means of it? — we'd answer that it's that perception which reveals sounds to us through the ears. So too, if he asked us — since law is what makes customary the things that are held customary, what is law, that it makes them customary by means of it? — is it some kind of perception, or a revealing, the way things learned are learned by knowledge revealing them? Or is it some kind of discovery, the way things found are found — as, say, what's healthy and what's diseased are found by medicine, and what the gods intend, as the diviners say, by divination? For a craft, I take it, is a discovery of things — isn't that right? COMPANION: Certainly. SOCRATES: Then which of these should we suppose law most resembles? COMPANION: These decrees and resolutions — that's what it seems to me. What else would anyone say law is? So it looks as though what you're asking about, the whole of it, law, is a city's decree. SOCRATES: You mean, it seems, that law is a political opinion. COMPANION: I do. SOCRATES: And perhaps you're right. But let's see if we can get a better grip on it this way. Do you speak of certain people as wise? COMPANION: I do. SOCRATES: And the wise are wise by wisdom? COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: And the just are just by justice? COMPANION: Certainly. SOCRATES: And the law-abiding are law-abiding by law? COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: And the lawless are lawless by lawlessness? COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: And the law-abiding are just? COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: And the lawless are unjust? COMPANION: Unjust. SOCRATES: So justice and law are the finest things? COMPANION: So it seems. SOCRATES: And injustice and lawlessness the most shameful? COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: And the one preserves cities and everything else, while the other destroys and overturns them? COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: Then we must think of law as being something fine, and seek it as something good. COMPANION: Of course. SOCRATES: But didn't we say law was a city's decree? COMPANION: We did. SOCRATES: Well then — aren't some decrees good and others bad? COMPANION: They are indeed. SOCRATES: And yet law, at least, was not something bad. COMPANION: No, it wasn't. SOCRATES: So it isn't right to answer, simply like that, that law is a city's decree. COMPANION: I don't think it is. SOCRATES: A bad decree, then, could not fittingly be law. COMPANION: No indeed. SOCRATES: And yet it does seem to me, too, that law is some kind of opinion. Since it isn't the bad opinion, isn't it already clear that it must be the good one, if law is opinion at all? COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: And what is a good opinion? Isn't it the true one?
COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: And isn't the true opinion a discovery of what is? COMPANION: It is. SOCRATES: Then law aims at being a discovery of what is. COMPANION: But then, Socrates, if law is a discovery of what is, why don't we always use the same laws about the same things, if the things that are have already been discovered by us? SOCRATES: Law aims no less at being a discovery of what is — but people who don't always use the same laws, it seems, are simply not always able to discover what the law is aiming at, namely what is. Come, let's see whether it becomes clear to us from this whether we always use the same laws or different ones at different times, and whether everyone uses the same ones or different peoples different ones. COMPANION: Well, that at least isn't hard to see, Socrates — that neither do the same people always use the same laws, nor do different peoples use the same ones as each other. Take us, for instance: it isn't our law to sacrifice human beings — it's unholy — but the Carthaginians sacrifice them, thinking it holy and lawful for them, and some of them even sacrifice their own sons to Kronos, as you've probably heard too. And it isn't only that foreign peoples use different laws from us — the people of Mount Lykaion and the descendants of Athamas, Greeks though they are, perform the kinds of sacrifices they do! And you know too, I think, from hearing about it yourself, what customs we ourselves once used to follow regarding the dead — slaughtering victims before the corpse was carried out, and sending for the women who pour the libations; and before that, people even earlier still used to bury their dead right in the house — we do none of that now. One could mention countless things of this kind; there's plenty of room to show that neither do we ourselves always hold to the same customs, nor do people hold to the same customs as each other. SOCRATES: It's no wonder at all, my good man, if you're right and this has escaped me. But as long as you speak your mind at length on your own, and then I speak mine, we'll never come to agreement, I think. If instead we set the inquiry up as something shared, we might well agree. So if you're willing, examine it together with me by questioning me; or if you'd rather, by answering me. COMPANION: I'm willing to answer whatever you like, Socrates. SOCRATES: Come then — do you think just things are unjust and unjust things just, or that just things are just and unjust things unjust?
COMPANION: I think just things are just and unjust things unjust. SOCRATES: And isn't that held the same way everywhere as it is here? COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: Even among the Persians? COMPANION: Even among the Persians. SOCRATES: Always, I suppose? COMPANION: Always. SOCRATES: And are heavier-weighing things held to be heavier here, and lighter ones lighter, or the reverse? COMPANION: No — heavier-weighing things are heavier, lighter ones lighter. SOCRATES: And the same in Carthage and on Mount Lykaion? COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: Fine things, it seems, are held fine everywhere, and shameful things shameful — never shameful things fine or fine things shameful. COMPANION: So it is. SOCRATES: So, speaking universally, what is is held to be, not what is not — both among us and among all other peoples. COMPANION: So it seems to me. SOCRATES: Then whoever misses what is, misses what is lawful. COMPANION: Put the way you put it, Socrates, that does appear to be lawful for us always and for others too. But when I think about how we never stop moving our laws around, up and down, I can't be persuaded. SOCRATES: Perhaps you're not noticing that when these things get shifted about, like pieces on a board, they remain the same. Let's look at it this way instead. Have you ever come across a treatise on the health of the sick? COMPANION: I have. SOCRATES: Do you know which craft this treatise belongs to? COMPANION: I do — medicine. SOCRATES: And you call those who have knowledge of these matters doctors? COMPANION: I do. SOCRATES: Now, do those with knowledge hold the same views about the same things, or different people different things? COMPANION: They hold the same views, I think. SOCRATES: Do only Greeks hold the same views as other Greeks, or do foreigners too, as regards what they know, hold the same views both among themselves and with the Greeks? COMPANION: It's surely a great necessity that those who know hold the same views among themselves, whether Greek or foreign. SOCRATES: Well answered. And always, too? COMPANION: Yes, always. SOCRATES: And doctors write treatises about health according to what they hold to be so? COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: So these writings of doctors are medical matters and medical laws. COMPANION: Medical, certainly. SOCRATES: And are writings on farming, then, farming laws? COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: Whose, then, are the writings and rules concerning the working of gardens? COMPANION: Gardeners'. SOCRATES: So these are gardening laws for us. COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: Belonging to those who know how to govern gardens? COMPANION: Of course. SOCRATES: And gardeners know how. COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: And whose are the writings and rules about the preparation of food? COMPANION: Cooks'. SOCRATES: So these are cooking laws? COMPANION: Cooking laws.
SOCRATES: Belonging, it seems, to those who know how to govern the preparation of food? COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: And cooks know how, as they say? COMPANION: They do know. SOCRATES: Very well — whose, then, are the writings and rules about the management of a city? Aren't they those of people who know how to govern cities? COMPANION: I think so. SOCRATES: And does anyone know this besides statesmen and kings? COMPANION: Those, and no others. SOCRATES: So these writings, which people call laws, are political matters — the writings of kings and good men. COMPANION: True. SOCRATES: And surely those who know won't write different things at different times about the same matters? COMPANION: No. SOCRATES: Nor will they ever change to different rules about the same things? COMPANION: No indeed. SOCRATES: So if we see anyone anywhere doing this, shall we say those who do it are people who know, or people who don't know? COMPANION: People who don't know. SOCRATES: And whatever is correct, we'll say is lawful for each craft, won't we — the medically correct, or the cooking-correct, or the gardening-correct? COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: And whatever is not correct, we'll no longer call lawful? COMPANION: No longer. SOCRATES: It becomes unlawful, then. COMPANION: It must. SOCRATES: So too in writings about just and unjust things, and generally about how a city should be ordered and governed — what is correct is a king's law, and what is not correct is not, even though it seems to be law to those who don't know; for it is in fact unlawful. COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: So we were right to agree that law is a discovery of what is. COMPANION: So it appears. SOCRATES: Now let's consider this further point too, along the same lines. Who has the knowledge to distribute seed over land? COMPANION: A farmer. SOCRATES: And does he distribute the seed fitting to each piece of land? COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: So the farmer is a good distributor of these things, and his rules and distributions concerning them are correct? COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: And who is a good distributor of notes in a melody, allotting what is fitting? And whose rules are correct in that? COMPANION: The flute-player's and the lyre-player's. SOCRATES: So the one most skilled in rule-making in this domain is the one most skilled at flute-playing. COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: And who is best at distributing nourishment to human bodies? Isn't it the one who distributes what is fitting? COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: So his distributions and rules are the best, and whoever is most skilled in rule-making about these things is also the best distributor. COMPANION: Certainly. SOCRATES: Who is this?
COMPANION: A trainer. SOCRATES: And he's the best at herding the human herd, as far as the body goes? COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: And who is best at herding a flock of sheep? What's he called? COMPANION: A shepherd. SOCRATES: So the shepherd's rules are the best rules for sheep. COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: And the cowherd's rules are best for cattle. COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: And whose rules are best for the souls of men? Isn't it the king's? Say it. COMPANION: I do say it. SOCRATES: Well put. Now, can you tell me who among the ancients turned out to be a good lawgiver where flute-music is concerned? Perhaps it doesn't occur to you—shall I remind you? COMPANION: Please do. SOCRATES: Isn't it said to be Marsyas, and his beloved Olympus the Phrygian? COMPANION: True. SOCRATES: Their tunes are the most godlike of all, the only ones that stir people and reveal who stands in need of the gods; and even now they're the only tunes still left to us, because they're divine. COMPANION: That's so. SOCRATES: And who among the ancient kings is said to have become a good lawgiver, whose ordinances still stand today because they are divine? COMPANION: I can't think of one. SOCRATES: Don't you know which Greeks live under the oldest laws? COMPANION: You mean the Spartans, and Lycurgus their lawgiver? SOCRATES: But that's hardly three hundred years old, or a little more. Where do the best parts of their code come from—do you know? COMPANION: They say from Crete. SOCRATES: So the Cretans live under the oldest laws of all the Greeks? COMPANION: Yes. SOCRATES: Then do you know which of their kings were good ones? Minos and Rhadamanthus, sons of Zeus and Europa—these are their laws. COMPANION: They do say, Socrates, that Rhadamanthus was a just man, but that Minos was some savage, harsh, unjust fellow. SOCRATES: You're telling an Athenian story, my good man, and a tragic one at that. COMPANION: What, isn't that what's said about Minos? SOCRATES: Not by Homer and Hesiod, at any rate—and they're more trustworthy than the whole pack of tragedians you've been listening to. COMPANION: Well, what do they say about Minos, then?
SOCRATES: I'll tell you myself, so that you don't end up impious like most people. There's nothing more impious, nothing that calls for more caution, than sinning in word or deed against the gods—and second to that, against godlike men. So one must always take great care, whenever one is about to blame or praise a man, not to speak wrongly. That's exactly why we need to learn to tell good men from bad. For the god feels resentment when someone blames a man like himself or praises a man of the opposite character—and the good man is like the god. Don't imagine that stones and timber and birds and snakes can be sacred, but not men—no, the most sacred thing of all these is the good man, and the vilest is the bad one. So now, about Minos, and how Homer and Hesiod actually praise him, I'll explain—so that being a mere man yourself, you don't sin in speech against a hero, a son of Zeus. Homer, speaking of Crete, says there are many people there and ninety cities, and among them—'there is Knossos, a great city, where Minos, in his ninth year, reigned as the confidant of great Zeus.' Now this is Homer's praise of Minos, spoken briefly, but of a kind he gives to no other hero. That Zeus is a wise teacher and that this craft of his is a splendid thing, Homer makes clear in many other places, and here too. For he says that Minos kept company with Zeus in conversation every ninth year, going to be instructed as if by a wise teacher. That this honor—having been educated by Zeus himself—is one Homer assigns to no other hero but Minos, is itself a stunning compliment. And in the Odyssey, in the underworld scene, he has Minos, not Rhadamanthus, holding a golden scepter and passing judgment; he never once shows Rhadamanthus judging there, nor keeping Zeus's company anywhere. That's why I say Minos, of all men, has been praised by Homer more than anyone. For being a son of Zeus and being educated by Zeus alone leaves no room for higher praise—that's what the line means, 'in his ninth year he reigned as the confidant of great Zeus'—that Minos was Zeus's companion in conversation. For 'oaroi' means conversations, and a confidant, an 'oaristes,' is one who converses closely with another. So every ninth year Minos would go up to the cave of Zeus, partly to learn, partly to demonstrate what he had learned from Zeus in the previous nine years.
SOCRATES: Now there are some who suppose that this 'confidant' means a drinking companion and playmate of Zeus, but here's a proof that those who think so are talking nonsense: among the many peoples, Greek and foreign alike, there is no one who abstains from drinking parties and that kind of amusement where wine is involved, except the Cretans, and the Spartans second, who learned it from the Cretans. And in Crete this is one of the laws Minos laid down—not to drink together to the point of drunkenness. Clearly, then, whatever he believed to be admirable, that he set down as law for his own citizens too. He wasn't, like some worthless man, believing one thing and doing another contrary to his beliefs—no, that companionship with Zeus was, as I say, conversation aimed at education in virtue. That's exactly why he laid down these laws for his citizens, laws thanks to which Crete has flourished for all time, and Sparta too, ever since it began following them, since they are divine laws. Rhadamanthus, for his part, was a good man—for he had been educated by Minos. But he had been trained not in the whole art of kingship, but only in a service subordinate to it, namely presiding over the courts; hence he was said to be a good judge. Minos employed him as guardian of the laws in the city itself, and for the rest of Crete he used Talos. Talos went around the villages three times a year guarding the laws there, carrying them written on bronze tablets—hence he was called 'bronze.' Hesiod, too, says things akin to this about Minos. Recalling his very name, he says: 'who became the most kingly of mortal kings, and ruled over the most neighboring peoples, holding the scepter of Zeus; by it he ruled over many cities.' Here too, the scepter of Zeus is nothing other than the education that came from Zeus, by which he guided Crete rightly. COMPANION: Then why, Socrates, has this reputation spread about Minos, that he was some uneducated, harsh man?
SOCRATES: For the very reason that you too, my good man, if you're wise, will be careful about—and every man who cares for his good name should take care never to make an enemy of any poet. For poets have great power over reputation, depending on which way they choose to treat people—whether praising or slandering. And this is exactly the mistake Minos made: he went to war against this city, where there is a great deal of wisdom besides, and poets of every kind, in other genres and in tragedy especially. Tragedy is an old art here—it didn't begin with Thespis, as people think, nor with Phrynichus; if you care to reflect, you'll find it a very old invention indeed, belonging to this city. And tragedy is the most crowd-pleasing and soul-stirring form of poetry there is; and it's in tragedy that we take our revenge on Minos, stretching the truth, for forcing us to pay that tribute. So this was the mistake Minos made—making an enemy of us—and that is exactly why, as you ask, he has come to have a worse reputation. Since that he was in fact good and law-abiding—as we were saying before, a good herdsman—here is the greatest proof: his laws have remained unmoved, because he had truly discovered the truth about how a city should be run. COMPANION: What you say strikes me as plausible, Socrates. SOCRATES: Then if I'm right, does it seem to you that the Cretans, fellow citizens of Minos and Rhadamanthus, live under the very oldest laws? COMPANION: It appears so. SOCRATES: Then these men turned out to be the best lawgivers among the ancients, herdsmen and shepherds of men, just as Homer said a good general is a shepherd of his people. COMPANION: Certainly. SOCRATES: Come then, by Zeus, god of friendship—if someone asked us what a good lawgiver and herdsman does for the body, distributing which things to make it better, we would answer well and briefly: food and exercise, building it up with the one, training and knitting it together with the other. COMPANION: Quite right. SOCRATES: But if after that someone asked us, what exactly are those things which a good lawgiver and herdsman distributes to the soul to make it better—what could we answer without shame, given our age and standing? COMPANION: That I can no longer say. SOCRATES: And yet it is shameful for each of our souls that some things about it should be visible in which we're ignorant—the very things in which good and bad reside—while we've taken such care to examine the body's concerns, and other people's concerns besides.