Plato, Republic 466a–470e: Book V: The guardians in war; the treatment of the fallen and of the Greeks

“Do you recall,” said I, “that in the preceding argument the objection of somebody or other rebuked us for not making our guardians happy, since, though it was in their power to have everything of the citizens, they had nothing, and we, I believe, replied that this was a consideration to which we would return if occasion offered, but that at present we were making our guardians guardians and the city as a whole as happy as possible, and that we were not modelling our ideal of happiness with reference to any one class?” “I do remember,” he said. “Well then, since now the life of our helpers has been shown to be fairer and better than that of the victors at Olympia, need we compare it with the life of cobblers and other craftsmen and farmers?” “I think not,” he said. “But further, we may fairly repeat what I was saying then also, that if the guardian shall strive for a kind of happiness that will unmake him as a guardian and shall not be content with the way of life that is moderate and secure and, as we affirm, the best, but if some senseless and childish opinion about happiness shall beset him and impel him to use his power to appropriate everything in the city for himself, then he will find out that Hesiod was indeed wise, who said that the half was in some sort more than the whole. ” “If he accepts my counsel,” he said, “he will abide in this way of life.” “You accept, then, as we have described it, this partnership of the women with our men in the matter of education and children and the guardianship of the other citizens, and you admit that both within the city and when they go forth to war they ought to keep guard together and hunt together as it were like hounds, and have all things in every way, so far as possible, in common, and that so doing they will do what is for the best and nothing that is contrary to female human nature in comparison with male or to their natural fellowship with one another.” “I do admit it,” he said. “Then,” I said, “is not the thing that it remains to determine this, whether, namely, it is possible for such a community to be brought about among men as it is in the other animals, and in what way it is possible?” “You have anticipated,” he said, “the point I was about to raise.” “For as for their wars,” I said, “the manner in which they will conduct them is too obvious for discussion.” “How so,” said he. “It is obvious that they will march out together, and, what is more, will conduct their children to war when they are sturdy, in order that, like the children of other craftsmen, they may observe the processes of which they must be masters in their maturity;”

“and in addition to looking on they must assist and minister in all the business of war and serve their fathers and mothers. Or have you never noticed the practice in the arts, how for example the sons of potters look on as helpers a long time before they put their hands to the clay?” “They do, indeed.” “Should these then be more concerned than our guardians to train the children by observation and experience of what is to be their proper business?” “That would be ridiculous,” he said. “But, further, when it comes to fighting, every creature will do better in the presence of its offspring?” “That is so, but the risk, Socrates, is not slight, in the event of disasters such as may happen in war, that, losing their children as well as themselves, they make it impossible for the remnant of the state to recover.” “What you say is true,” I replied; “but, in the first place, is it your idea that the one thing for which we must provide is the avoidance of all danger?” “By no means.” “And, if they are to take chances, should it not be for something success in which will make them better?” “Clearly.” “Do you think it makes a slight difference and not worth some risk whether men who are to be warriors do or do not observe war as boys?” “No, it makes a great difference for the purpose of which you speak.” “Starting, then, from this assumption that we are to make the boys spectators of war, we must further contrive security for them and all will be well, will it not?” “Yes.” “To begin with, then,” said I, “will not the fathers be, humanly speaking, not ignorant of war and shrewd judges of which campaigns are hazardous and which not?” “Presumably,” he said. “They will take the boys with them to the one and avoid the others?” “Rightly.” “And for officers, I presume,” said I, “they will put in charge of them not those who are good for nothing else but men who by age and experience are qualified to serve at once as leaders and as caretakers of children.” “Yes, that would be the proper way.” “Still, we may object, it is the unexpected that happens to many in many cases.” “Yes, indeed.” “To provide against such chances, then, we must wing the children from the start so that if need arises they may fly away and escape.” “What do you mean?” he said. “We must mount them when very young,” said I, “and first have them taught to ride, and then conduct them to the scene of war, not on mettlesome war-steeds, but on the swiftest and gentlest horses possible; for thus they will have the best view of their own future business and also, if need arises, will most securely escape to safety in the train of elder guides.” “I think you are right,” he said.

“But now what of the conduct of war? What should be the attitude of the soldiers to one another and the enemy? Am I right in my notions or not?” “Tell me what notions,” he said. “Anyone of them who deserts his post, or flings away his weapons, or is guilty of any similar act of cowardice, should be reduced to the artisan or farmer class, should he not?” “By all means.” “And anyone who is taken alive by the enemy we will make a present of to his captors, shall we not, to deal with their catch as they please?” “Quite so.” “And don’t you agree that the one who wins the prize of valor and distinguishes himself shall first be crowned by his fellows in the campaign, by the lads and boys each in turn?” “I do.” “And be greeted with the right hand?” “That, too.” “But I presume you wouldn’t go as far as this?” “What?” “That he should kiss and be kissed by everyone?” “By all means,” he said, “and I add to the law the provision that during that campaign none whom he wishes to kiss be allowed to refuse, so that if one is in love with anyone, male or female, he may be the more eager to win the prize.” “Excellent,” said I, “and we have already said that the opportunity of marriage will be more readily provided for the good man, and that he will be more frequently selected than the others for participation in that sort of thing, in order that as many children as possible may be born from such stock.” “We have,” he replied. “But, furthermore, we may cite Homer too for the justice of honoring in such ways the valiant among our youth. For Homer says that Ajax, who had distinguished himself in the war, was honored with the long chine, assuming that the most fitting meed for a brave man in the prime of his youth is that from which both honor and strength will accrue to him.” “Most rightly,” he said. “We will then,” said I, “take Homer as our guide in this at least. We, too, at sacrifices and on other like occasions, will reward the good so far as they have proved themselves good with hymns and the other privileges of which we have just spoken, and also with seats of honor and meat and full cups , so as to combine physical training with honor for the good, both men and women.” “Nothing could be better,” he said. “Very well; and of those who die on campaign, if anyone’s death has been especially glorious, shall we not, to begin with, affirm that he belongs to the golden race?” “By all means.”

“And shall we not believe Hesiod who tells us that when anyone of this race dies, so it is that they become Hallowed spirits dwelling on earth, averters of evil, / Guardians watchful and good of articulate-speaking mortals? / ” “We certainly shall believe him.” “We will inquire of Apollo, then, how and with what distinction we are to bury men of more than human, of divine, qualities, and deal with them according to his response.” “How can we do otherwise?” “And ever after we will bestow on their graves the tendance and worship paid to spirits divine. And we will practice the same observance when any who have been adjudged exceptionally good in the ordinary course of life die of old age or otherwise.” “That will surely be right,” he said. “But again, how will our soldiers conduct themselves toward enemies?” “In what respect?” “First, in the matter of making slaves of the defeated, do you think it right for Greeks to reduce Greek cities to slavery, or rather that so far as they are able, they should not suffer any other city to do so, but should accustom Greeks to spare Greeks, foreseeing the danger of enslavement by the barbarians?” “Sparing them is wholly and altogether the better,” said he. “They are not, then, themselves to own Greek slaves, either, and they should advise the other Greeks not to?” “By all means,” he said; “at any rate in that way they would be more likely to turn against the barbarians and keep their hands from one another.” “And how about stripping the dead after victory of anything except their weapons: is that well? Does it not furnish a pretext to cowards not to advance on the living foe, as if they were doing something needful when poking about the dead? Has not this snatching at the spoils ere new destroyed many an army?” “Yes, indeed.” “And don’t you think it illiberal and greedy to plunder a corpse, and is it not the mark of a womanish and petty spirit to deem the body of the dead an enemy when the real foeman has flown away and left behind only the instrument with which he fought? Do you see any difference between such conduct and that of the dogs who snarl at the stones that hit them but don’t touch the thrower?” “Not the slightest.” “We must abandon, then, the plundering of corpses and the refusal to permit their burial.” “By heaven, we certainly must,” he said.

“And again, we will not take weapons to the temples for dedicatory offerings, especially the weapons of Greeks, if we are at all concerned to preserve friendly relations with the other Greeks. Rather we shall fear that there is pollution in bringing such offerings to the temples from our kind unless in a case where the god bids otherwise.” “Most rightly,” he said. “And in the matter of devastating the land of Greeks and burning their houses, how will your soldiers deal with their enemies.” “I would gladly hear your opinion of that.” “In my view,” said I, “they ought to do neither, but confine themselves to taking away the annual harvest. Shall I tell you why?” “Do.” “In my opinion, just as we have the two terms, war and faction, so there are also two things, distinguished by two differentiae. The two things I mean are the friendly and kindred on the one hand and the alien and foreign on the other. Now the term employed for the hostility of the friendly is faction, and for that of the alien is war.” “What you say is in nothing beside the mark,” he replied. “Consider, then, if this goes to the mark. I affirm that the Hellenic race is friendly to itself and akin, and foreign and alien to the barbarian.” “Rightly,” he said. “We shall then say that Greeks fight and wage war with barbarians, and barbarians with Greeks, and are enemies by nature, and that war is the fit name for this enmity and hatred. Greeks, however, we shall say, are still by nature the friends of Greeks when they act in this way, but that Greece is sick in that case and divided by faction, and faction is the name we must give to that enmity.” “I will allow you that habit of speech,” he said. “Then observe,” said I, “that when anything of this sort occurs in faction, as the word is now used, and a state is divided against itself, if either party devastates the land and burns the houses of the other such factional strife is thought to be an accursed thing and neither party to be true patriots. Otherwise, they would never have endured thus to outrage their nurse and mother. But the moderate and reasonable thing is thought to be that the victors shall take away the crops of the vanquished, but that their temper shall be that of men who expect to be reconciled and not always to wage war.” “That way of feeling,” he said, “is far less savage than the other.” “Well, then,” said I, “is not the city that you are founding to be a Greek city?” “It must be,” he said. “Will they then not be good and gentle?” “Indeed they will.” “And won’t they be philhellenes, lovers of Greeks, and will they not regard all Greece as their own and not renounce their part in the holy places common to all Greeks ?” “Most certainly.”