How does Plato attempt to prove in Republic that justice, regardless of all reward, is more profitable than injustice?

 

Justice is at the heart of Republic. Interpretations of aspects of the dialogue have sometimes missed this crucial fact that the entire enterprise is geared to proving this very point: that justice is always, objectively and incontrovertibly, better than injustice. It is, in one sense, the human version of the Good. The primary aim of the dialogue is to prove that justice is in an agent’s self-interest because justice is intrinsically good. Before we can analyse how Plato makes his proof, we must focus closely on what ‘justice’ means in Republic. We cannot assess the means, methods, analogies and arguments by which a proof is made, before we look in detail at the constituent parts of the proof themselves. In this vein, we will first assess what Plato means by justice, how he arrives at this meaning, and what he does with it once he is there. Thereafter, we can examine how he tries to prove that it is more profitable than injustice, and in what senses this is true.

           

Plato is very specific over the meaning of justice (dikaiosune), and takes great trouble over presenting a coherent picture of what his version of justice ‘is like’. One might go so far as to say that this is the unifying end of Republic. He does not offer a new ‘definition’ by way of excluding things that ‘justice’ is not, but rather imbues the word with a new ‘character’ and defined attributes: What is true about the concept ‘justice’ refers to? This reflects his conception of knowledge, also a fundamental building-block of his argument in Republic, as built up by degrees of understanding, rather than our post-Cartesian ‘exclusion of doubt’. For Plato, the meaning of ‘justice’ is quite specific: the existence of a well-ordered soul, governed by reason. This state will unquestionably bring about “the right way to live”. ‘Platonic justice’ might be usefully thought of by the modern scholar as ‘mental health’, as indeed even the language we use to describe corrupt mental health, like ‘unbalanced’ or ‘cracking up’, gives a good sense of what Plato means by ‘injustice of the soul’. We cannot push the metaphor to the point of translation, but it is testament to the power of Plato’s insight into the human condition that the modern analogy fits.

 

It is worth looking at how Plato presents the challenge to Socrates, although some scholars have argued that Book 1 of Republic actually causes more problems than it fixes. This seems unlikely, as Book 1 has a literary and philosophical function in presenting through the characters several archetypes of what Socrates later terms “commonplace” justice. This covers helping friends and harming enemies, paying what you owe, submitting to the will of the stronger and obeying the law. The arguments are deliberately weak to allow Socrates to issue later a damning rebuttal of these ‘soft’ versions of justice, which have led Polemarchus to conclude “justice is not a very serious thing”. Nothing could be further from Plato’s view, and he uses this statement as a call to arms against moral scepticism, and as a launch-point for a re-evaluation of the entire concept of justice. The inadequacy of the act-centred conception of ‘justice’ which the early speakers discuss is torn down by Socrates, and replaced with a totally different agent-centred theory. It is this justice which Plato then shows to be more profitable.

 

The ‘Socratic method’, of which Plato is the most famous written exponent, challenges accepted ideas, principles and morality. In Republic, Plato uses Socrates himself as the mouthpiece (somewhat ironically) of an entirely different procedure: the building of his own moral and epistemological theories. To have ‘the great questioner’, who previously knew nothing for certain but his own ignorance, formulate an argument which is to stand as a theory of knowledge, justice and morality, is a radical philosophical and literary undertaking. Thracymachus makes the point explicitly to Socrates: “I even told the others here some time ago that you wouldn’t be prepared to express opinions, and would feign ignorance and do anything rather than answer a question put to you.” Socrates’ acceptance of the challenge is a moment of dramatic tension, and signals the gravity of his undertaking. He will attempt to establish moral truths, whilst radically redefining what those truths are.

 

Plato’s treatment of justice is concerned with the agent, not with other people or acts which might involve them. The versions of ‘common-sense’ justice outlined in book 1 depended on relations with other people, and might be termed ‘external’ or ‘expansive’, since they deal with relations with others. Platonic justice does not ask ‘what is the right way to act justly?’ but instead, ‘what does it mean to live well, to be a good person?’ this agent-centred conception of justice is of tremendous importance to Plato’s argument, as he seeks not only to prove that the ‘just’ soul is better than the ‘unjust’, but that the act-centred concept of justice itself is fatally flawed. Plato defines the soul as an internal state of the person, rather than in relation to other people. Actions are therefore ‘just’ if they foster a just condition in the soul, and ‘unjust’ if they do not. This distinction remains important to Plato’s proof throughout. The onus is on the agent themselves as the following passage makes clear:

 

Virtue has no master. Depending on whether a person accords it honour or dishonour, each will possess it to a greater or lesser degree. The responsibility lies with the chooser. The God has none.

 

However, Socrates must deal with the difficult question of when moral intuition or “commonplace” justice conflicts with the actions of a Platonically just person. For example, ‘ordinary justice’ dictates that it is wrong to kill a stranger. Yet one could construct a situation (however unlikely) whereby the rational choice of the just person would be to do just that. Who is right? Socrates initially tries to argue that by virtue of a Platonically-just person acting, there actions are, by definition, just. However, returning to the example, it appears that Socrates’ method of justification is self-fulfilling. There is no question of objective standards of justice if they are simply the actions of a just person, and Socrates is seeking to define justice objectively, just as he does Knowledge and Good. This impasse leads Socrates to “look elsewhere” for justice, and construct one of the most famous analogies in philosophical history.

 

Socrates’ use of the city-soul analogy forms the backbone of his method of addressing the question of justice, hoping that “By comparing the two, we might make justice light up like fire from the rubbing of firesticks”. It is worth considering the origins and appropriateness of the analogy itself, as it is so crucial to our understanding of Plato’s argument. Why does he use it? The analogy does provide a good metaphor for Plato’s view of the human psyche, and the absolute primacy of unity in the city reflects the crucial need for ‘psychic harmony’ in the soul. The Principle of Specialisation which underwrites the civic unity is also easily transferred onto the psyche, and emphasises its absolute necessity to the rest of the argument. As Socrates puts it, “each one of us is born somewhat different from the others, one more apt for one task, one for another”. This kind of statement becomes very useful later on, as Socrates argues that each part of the soul must be derived in the same way, as is evidence from the appearance of conflicting motivations within people. The story of Leonitus and the corpses is particularly useful in this case, and is combined with the wider city-soul analogy to great effect.

 

To what extent the analogy is appropriate to the proof of justice being profitable is more debatable. The people in the city are not ‘unique and separate’, but ‘different and integrated’. Socrates stresses the point yet further, when he shows the radical steps which are required for true integration – such as the abolishment of the family, to the point where “when one hurts his finger, all will feel it”. The city is a useful explanation of the level of integration that Plato believes the part of the soul must achieve in order to be ‘just’. In this way, perhaps we are supposed to be shocked at the degree of authoritarian control the guardians must exercise over the other two classes, for it is to the same degree that reason must hold over the baser instincts. The analogy here is doing its job, by fleshing-out a concept with which we are unfamiliar (the just soul) in terms with which we are (the city). This principle is fundamental to Plato’s method, and he returns time and time again to the city analogy as he develops the more complex aspects of his moral theories.

 

 

Some scholars have argued that the analogy actually raises more problems than it solves, and actually serves to obscure Plato’s argument on justice and morality by bringing in an array of civic concepts which actually have little to do with his other arguments. This is most clearly seen in the four types of rule corresponding to the four types of unjust character. Just because we have accepted that justice in a city might be like justice in an individual, it does not follow that types of city will correspond exactly to types of individual. Socrates himself says “there are of necessity as many ways of life for men as there are types of cities”, but this does not prove that one type of civic injustice reflects one type of personal injustice exactly. Indeed, it appears that perhaps the example should run the other way, as Socrates declares, “without shaping souls it is impossible to change society”. The same reasoning runs behind Plato’s focus on the Guardians of the city, at the expense o the other two classes. The point relies on the city-soul analogy: to be personally just is not the product of a just environment; rather, personal justice produces a just environment. In addition, there is an intrinsic problem that the Guardians who are just do not run the civic society in their own self-interest, which appears to be a contradiction of Plato’s main argument that justice is in the just man’s self-interest. However, if we take the metaphor of the city as standing for an individual’s soul (as Plato intends us to), then we cannot take each of the guardian’s as individuals. They cannot work in their own self-interests, since they do not fully possess a ‘self’, but are part of an analogy of a single entity.

 

There is not space here for anything but a brief outline of Plato’s epistemological arguments in Republic, but they are highly relevant to his case for the primacy of justice over injustice. ‘Knowledge’ for Plato relates to truth, is utterly infallible, and does not require qualification. ‘Belief’ covers truths and untruths, is malleable, and must be qualified. The objects of knowledge are not to be found in experience (the philosopher knows this), and the only true Beauty lies in something’s perfect Form (which is not to be found in experience). Knowledge takes Forms as objects, and is thus can provide the basis for an objective standard of justice. Just actions derive their beneficial qualities from the Form of the Good (objective), and Plato emphasises the need for the Good to be as close as possible to the agent to ensure moral justice. This is expressed in the city analogy by the Guardians (who are just and love knowledge) having absolute power over the other classes, even to the point that it is acceptable for them to lie, and, in a sense, control what is ‘true’ for the lesser beings. This is not a justification for state propaganda and censorship, but more a safeguard for the unity of the city.

 

Plato takes great care over defining and proving exactly how justice is ‘more profitable’ than injustice, by analyzing the nature of Good. This analysis is fundamental to his proof, as he attempts to show how justice is Good both in itself and for its consequences, just as health is: It is both a means and an end simultaneously. These two senses of Good, intrinsic and consequential, give an overarching structure to Plato’s argument. Glaucon’s example of Gyges’ ring (the case for the superiority of injustice) opens the way for Socrates to prove first that justice (in Plato’s sense of the word) is Good “itself by itself”. Thereafter, Socrates attempts to prove that the consequences of having a just soul are Good and can only be good. Socrates seeks to prove that it is not worth being unjust even if, like Gyges, you know you can get away with it. The Good (which he later comes to define) is to be found by way of the just soul.

 

The consequences of justice are less easily fitted into Plato’s vision of the just soul. The just person is morally healthy, has psychic harmony, and is governed by reason. There is no appeal to the justness or profit of their actions in this case. This is entirely deliberate on Plato’s part, since the arguments in Book 1 demonstrate that an act-centred conception of justice is inadequate to answer the question. Indeed, it might almost be said the Plato doesn’t so much ‘prove that justice is more profitable than injustice’, but rather gives justice a more appropriate meaning. Plato does not conceive of an external body of ‘just actions’ to which we should try to subscribe (just as the analogy of the city is entirely focused on what goes on inside it), but rather that a just agent will act in a necessarily just manner in any given situation. He avoids the obvious problem (again prevalent in the city image in the form of the Guardians) that his version permits arbitrary decisions without moral reference, by showing the proximity to the Good which the truly just person must develop. The question of ‘happiness attained’ is less relevant for this understanding, and Socrates almost dismisses it when he says, “we must leave it to nature to provide each group with its share of happiness”. Contrarily, for the just man, happiness is not a bonus, but an inevitable consequence of his just state.

 

 

The ‘Good life’, which is the goal of existence in Plato’s work, requires goodness, which requires knowledge, which requires understanding, which requires philosophy. Philosophers, through their examination of life and knowledge, value justice in itself, and then will benefit from its consequences. Pleasure is not the aim of life, and in a sense the question of justice or injustice judged by consequences imposes a false teleology onto a question of ‘the right way to live’. The activities and attitudes of a man with a just soul will, for Plato, inevitably produce a profitable life – for a profitable life, by definition, is the life of a just man. This apparently circular proof relies on our acceptance of Plato’s view of the ‘just man’. The entire result lies within the state of the agent, and to what extent his reason is able to maintain harmony over his constituent psychic parts, just as the internal unity of the city depends on the Guardians ability to maintain it. It therefore appears by Plato’s reasoning that only one who is a philosopher can attain the necessary justness of soul to live in such a state, and this, he stresses, must be constantly worked on and developed. Unjust people, irrespective of their actions, are dominated by desires that cannot produce a truly unified soul. A city without guardians is a city in chaos, as Plato’s pseudo-historical examples of the degeneration of cities are intended to show. Therefore, his city analogy may have a ‘realistic’ political point to make about how it is more important to impart reason (from philosophers, who are just) onto unjust people, than it is to let people ‘choose for themselves’. The disordered state of their souls means that their actions are perennially unjust, (Socrates even speaks of the “civil war of the soul”) and only the authoritarian state of the city can make them just.

 

It is then rather unclear whether Plato has re-defined the terms of Thracymachus’ challenge to the extent that he is no longer answering the same question. Thracymahcus implores him to show “…what effect for good or ill each exerts on the person who has it [justice], simply by itself”. A definition of justice was implicit in the question, but the formulation of a radically new theory of justice itself was not anticipated. Justice, in the form Plato presents it, is unquestionably more profitable than injustice, but the assumptions about the construction of the soul and the appropriateness of the city-soul metaphor must be accepted first. Indeed, Socrates almost says this himself:

The point is that everyone thinks the rewards of injustice outweigh those of justice – and they’re right, according to the proponent of this view.

Those who subscribe to “this view” of justice need to be radically re-educated, aggressively if we take the city-soul analogy as evidence, to regard justice as intrinsically valuable. Only then can justice be said to be more profitable than injustice.