1)  The Republic By Plato
2)   Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics

The Republic   By Plato
Written 360 B.C. E.   Translated by Benjamin Jowett

 Book VII
 
     Socrates - GLAUCON

     And now, I said, let me show in a figure how far our nature is enlightened
     or unenlightened: --Behold! human beings living in a underground den,
     which has a mouth open towards the light and reaching all along the den;
     here they have been from their childhood, and have their legs and necks
     chained so that they cannot move, and can only see before them, being
     prevented by the chains from turning round their heads. Above and behind
     them a fire is blazing at a distance, and between the fire and the prisoners
     there is a raised way; and you will see, if you look, a low wall built along the
     way, like the screen which marionette players have in front of them, over
     which they show the puppets.

     I see.
     And do you see, I said, men passing along the wall carrying all sorts of
     vessels, and statues and figures of animals made of wood and stone and
     various materials, which appear over the wall? Some of them are talking,
     others silent.

     You have shown me a strange image, and they are strange prisoners.
     Like ourselves, I replied; and they see only their own shadows, or the
     shadows of one another, which the fire throws on the opposite wall of the
     cave?

     True, he said; how could they see anything but the shadows if they were
     never allowed to move their heads?

     And of the objects which are being carried in like manner they would only
     see the shadows?

     Yes, he said.
     And if they were able to converse with one another, would they not
     suppose that they were naming what was actually before them?

     Very true.
     And suppose further that the prison had an echo which came from the
     other side, would they not be sure to fancy when one of the passers-by
     spoke that the voice which they heard came from the passing shadow?

     No question, he replied.
     To them, I said, the truth would be literally nothing but the shadows of the
     images.

     That is certain.
     And now look again, and see what will naturally follow it' the prisoners are
     released and disabused of their error. At first, when any of them is
     liberated and compelled suddenly to stand up and turn his neck round and
     walk and look towards the light, he will suffer sharp pains; the glare will
     distress him, and he will be unable to see the realities of which in his former
     state he had seen the shadows; and then conceive some one saying to
     him, that what he saw before was an illusion, but that now, when he is
     approaching nearer to being and his eye is turned towards more real
     existence, he has a clearer vision, -what will be his reply? And you may
     further imagine that his instructor is pointing to the objects as they pass
     and requiring him to name them, -will he not be perplexed? Will he not
     fancy that the shadows which he formerly saw are truer than the objects
     which are now shown to him?

     Far truer.
     And if he is compelled to look straight at the light, will he not have a pain in
     his eyes which will make him turn away to take and take in the objects of
     vision which he can see, and which he will conceive to be in reality clearer
     than the things which are now being shown to him?

     True, he now
     And suppose once more, that he is reluctantly dragged up a steep and
     rugged ascent, and held fast until he 's forced into the presence of the sun
     himself, is he not likely to be pained and irritated? When he approaches
     the light his eyes will be dazzled, and he will not be able to see anything at
     all of what are now called realities.

     Not all in a moment, he said.
     He will require to grow accustomed to the sight of the upper world. And
     first he will see the shadows best, next the reflections of men and other
     objects in the water, and then the objects themselves; then he will gaze
     upon the light of the moon and the stars and the spangled heaven; and he
     will see the sky and the stars by night better than the sun or the light of the
     sun by day?

     Certainly.
     Last of he will be able to see the sun, and not mere reflections of him in
     the water, but he will see him in his own proper place, and not in another;
     and he will contemplate him as he is.

     Certainly.
     He will then proceed to argue that this is he who gives the season and the
     years, and is the guardian of all that is in the visible world, and in a certain
     way the cause of all things which he and his fellows have been
     accustomed to behold?

     Clearly, he said, he would first see the sun and then reason about him.

     And when he remembered his old habitation, and the wisdom of the den
     and his fellow-prisoners, do you not suppose that he would felicitate
     himself on the change, and pity them?

     Certainly, he would.
     And if they were in the habit of conferring honours among themselves on
     those who were quickest to observe the passing shadows and to remark
     which of them went before, and which followed after, and which were
     together; and who were therefore best able to draw conclusions as to the
     future, do you think that he would care for such honours and glories, or
     envy the possessors of them? Would he not say with Homer,

     Better to be the poor servant of a poor master, and to endure anything,
     rather than think as they do and live after their manner?

     Yes, he said, I think that he would rather suffer anything than entertain
     these false notions and live in this miserable manner.

     Imagine once more, I said, such an one coming suddenly out of the sun to
     be replaced in his old situation; would he not be certain to have his eyes
     full of darkness?

     To be sure, he said.
     And if there were a contest, and he had to compete in measuring the
     shadows with the prisoners who had never moved out of the den, while his
     sight was still weak, and before his eyes had become steady (and the time
     which would be needed to acquire this new habit of sight might be very
     considerable) would he not be ridiculous? Men would say of him that up he
     went and down he came without his eyes; and that it was better not even
     to think of ascending; and if any one tried to loose another and lead him up
     to the light, let them only catch the offender, and they would put him to
     death.

     No question, he said.
     This entire allegory, I said, you may now append, dear Glaucon, to the
     previous argument; the prison-house is the world of sight, the light of the
     fire is the sun, and you will not misapprehend me if you interpret the
     journey upwards to be the ascent of the soul into the intellectual world
     according to my poor belief, which, at your desire, I have expressed
     whether rightly or wrongly God knows. But, whether true or false, my
     opinion is that in the world of knowledge the idea of good appears last of
     all, and is seen only with an effort; and, when seen, is also inferred to be
     the universal author of all things beautiful and right, parent of light and of
     the lord of light in this visible world, and the immediate source of reason
     and truth in the intellectual; and that this is the power upon which he who
     would act rationally, either in public or private life must have his eye fixed.

     I agree, he said, as far as I am able to understand you.
     Moreover, I said, you must not wonder that those who attain to this beatific
     vision are unwilling to descend to human affairs; for their souls are ever
     hastening into the upper world where they desire to dwell; which desire of
     theirs is very natural, if our allegory may be trusted.

     Yes, very natural.
     And is there anything surprising in one who passes from divine
     contemplations to the evil state of man, misbehaving himself in a ridiculous
     manner; if, while his eyes are blinking and before he has become
     accustomed to the surrounding darkness, he is compelled to fight in courts
     of law, or in other places, about the images or the shadows of images of
     justice, and is endeavouring to meet the conceptions of those who have
     never yet seen absolute justice?

     Anything but surprising, he replied.
     Any one who has common sense will remember that the bewilderments of
     the eyes are of two kinds, and arise from two causes, either from coming
     out of the light or from going into the light, which is true of the mind's eye,
     quite as much as of the bodily eye; and he who remembers this when he
     sees any one whose vision is perplexed and weak, will not be too ready to
     laugh; he will first ask whether that soul of man has come out of the
     brighter light, and is unable to see because unaccustomed to the dark, or
     having turned from darkness to the day is dazzled by excess of light. And
     he will count the one happy in his condition and state of being, and he will
     pity the other; or, if he have a mind to laugh at the soul which comes from
     below into the light, there will be more reason in this than in the laugh
     which greets him who returns from above out of the light into the den.

     That, he said, is a very just distinction.
     But then, if I am right, certain professors of education must be wrong when
     they say that they can put a knowledge into the soul which was not there
     before, like sight into blind eyes.

     They undoubtedly say this, he replied.
     Whereas, our argument shows that the power and capacity of learning
     exists in the soul already; and that just as the eye was unable to turn from
     darkness to light without the whole body, so too the instrument of
     knowledge can only by the movement of the whole soul be turned from the
     world of becoming into that of being, and learn by degrees to endure the
     sight of being, and of the brightest and best of being, or in other words, of
     the good.

     Very true.
     And must there not be some art which will effect conversion in the easiest
     and quickest manner; not implanting the faculty of sight, for that exists
     already, but has been turned in the wrong direction, and is looking away
     from the truth?

     Yes, he said, such an art may be presumed.
     And whereas the other so-called virtues of the soul seem to be akin to
     bodily qualities, for even when they are not originally innate they can be
     implanted later by habit and exercise, the of wisdom more than anything
     else contains a divine element which always remains, and by this
     conversion is rendered useful and profitable; or, on the other hand, hurtful
     and useless. Did you never observe the narrow intelligence flashing from
     the keen eye of a clever rogue --how eager he is, how clearly his paltry soul
     sees the way to his end; he is the reverse of blind, but his keen eyesight is
     forced into the service of evil, and he is mischievous in proportion to his
     cleverness.

     Very true, he said.
     But what if there had been a circumcision of such natures in the days of
     their youth; and they had been severed from those sensual pleasures,
     such as eating and drinking, which, like leaden weights, were attached to
     them at their birth, and which drag them down and turn the vision of their
     souls upon the things that are below --if, I say, they had been released
     from these impediments and turned in the opposite direction, the very
     same faculty in them would have seen the truth as keenly as they see what
     their eyes are turned to now.

     Very likely.
     Yes, I said; and there is another thing which is likely. or rather a necessary
     inference from what has preceded, that neither the uneducated and
     uninformed of the truth, nor yet those who never make an end of their
     education, will be able ministers of State; not the former, because they
     have no single aim of duty which is the rule of all their actions, private as
     well as public; nor the latter, because they will not act at all except upon
     compulsion, fancying that they are already dwelling apart in the islands of
     the blest.

     Very true, he replied.
     Then, I said, the business of us who are the founders of the State will be
     to compel the best minds to attain that knowledge which we have already
     shown to be the greatest of all-they must continue to ascend until they
     arrive at the good; but when they have ascended and seen enough we
     must not allow them to do as they do now.

     What do you mean?
     I mean that they remain in the upper world: but this must not be allowed;
     they must be made to descend again among the prisoners in the den, and
     partake of their labours and honours, whether they are worth having or not.
 

     But is not this unjust? he said; ought we to give them a worse life, when
     they might have a better?

     You have again forgotten, my friend, I said, the intention of the legislator,
     who did not aim at making any one class in the State happy above the
     rest; the happiness was to be in the whole State, and he held the citizens
     together by persuasion and necessity, making them benefactors of the
     State, and therefore benefactors of one another; to this end he created
     them, not to please themselves, but to be his instruments in binding up the
     State.

     True, he said, I had forgotten.
     Observe, Glaucon, that there will be no injustice in compelling our
     philosophers to have a care and providence of others; we shall explain to
     them that in other States, men of their class are not obliged to share in the
     toils of politics: and this is reasonable, for they grow up at their own sweet
     will, and the government would rather not have them. Being self-taught,
     they cannot be expected to show any gratitude for a culture which they
     have never received. But we have brought you into the world to be rulers of
     the hive, kings of yourselves and of the other citizens, and have educated
     you far better and more perfectly than they have been educated, and you
     are better able to share in the double duty. Wherefore each of you, when
     his turn comes, must go down to the general underground abode, and get
     the habit of seeing in the dark. When you have acquired the habit, you will
     see ten thousand times better than the inhabitants of the den, and you will
     know what the several images are, and what they represent, because you
     have seen the beautiful and just and good in their truth. And thus our
     State which is also yours will be a reality, and not a dream only, and will be
     administered in a spirit unlike that of other States, in which men fight with
     one another about shadows only and are distracted in the struggle for
     power, which in their eyes is a great good. Whereas the truth is that the
     State in which the rulers are most reluctant to govern is always the best
     and most quietly governed, and the State in which they are most eager,
     the worst.

     Quite true, he replied.
     And will our pupils, when they hear this, refuse to take their turn at the toils
     of State, when they are allowed to spend the greater part of their time with
     one another in the heavenly light?

     Impossible, he answered; for they are just men, and the commands which
     we impose upon them are just; there can be no doubt that every one of
     them will take office as a stern necessity, and not after the fashion of our
     present rulers of State.

     Yes, my friend, I said; and there lies the point. You must contrive for your
     future rulers another and a better life than that of a ruler, and then you
     may have a well-ordered State; for only in the State which offers this, will
     they rule who are truly rich, not in silver and gold, but in virtue and wisdom,
     which are the true blessings of life. Whereas if they go to the
     administration of public affairs, poor and hungering after the' own private
     advantage, thinking that hence they are to snatch the chief good, order
     there can never be; for they will be fighting about office, and the civil and
     domestic broils which thus arise will be the ruin of the rulers themselves
     and of the whole State.

     Most true, he replied.
     And the only life which looks down upon the life of political ambition is that
     of true philosophy. Do you know of any other?

     Indeed, I do not, he said.
     And those who govern ought not to be lovers of the task? For, if they are,
     there will be rival lovers, and they will fight.

     No question.
     Who then are those whom we shall compel to be guardians? Surely they
     will be the men who are wisest about affairs of State, and by whom the
     State is best administered, and who at the same time have other honours
     and another and a better life than that of politics?

     They are the men, and I will choose them, he replied.
 

Excerpt from Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, Book I, 6-8
Translated by W.D. Ross

But let us discuss these matters elsewhere; an objection to what we have
     said, however, may be discerned in the fact that the Platonists have not
     been speaking about all goods, and that the goods that are pursued and
     loved for themselves are called good by reference to a single Form, while
     those which tend to produce or to preserve these somehow or to prevent
     their contraries are called so by reference to these, and in a secondary
     sense. Clearly, then, goods must be spoken of in two ways, and some
     must be good in themselves, the others by reason of these. Let us
     separate, then, things good in themselves from things useful, and consider
     whether the former are called good by reference to a single Idea. What
     sort of goods would one call good in themselves? Is it those that are
     pursued even when isolated from others, such as intelligence, sight, and
     certain pleasures and honours? Certainly, if we pursue these also for the
     sake of something else, yet one would place them among things good in
     themselves. Or is nothing other than the Idea of good good in itself? In
     that case the Form will be empty. But if the things we have named are also
     things good in themselves, the account of the good will have to appear as
     something identical in them all, as that of whiteness is identical in snow
     and in white lead. But of honour, wisdom, and pleasure, just in respect of
     their goodness, the accounts are distinct and diverse. The good, therefore,
     is not some common element answering to one Idea.

     But what then do we mean by the good? It is surely not like the things that
     only chance to have the same name. Are goods one, then, by being
     derived from one good or by all contributing to one good, or are they rather
     one by analogy? Certainly as sight is in the body, so is reason in the soul,
     and so on in other cases. But perhaps these subjects had better be
     dismissed for the present; for perfect precision about them would be more
     appropriate to another branch of philosophy. And similarly with regard to
     the Idea; even if there is some one good which is universally predicable of
     goods or is capable of separate and independent existence, clearly it could
     not be achieved or attained by man; but we are now seeking something
     attainable. Perhaps, however, some one might think it worth while to
     recognize this with a view to the goods that are attainable and achievable;
     for having this as a sort of pattern we shall know better the goods that are
     good for us, and if we know them shall attain them. This argument has
     some plausibility, but seems to clash with the procedure of the sciences;
     for all of these, though they aim at some good and seek to supply the
     deficiency of it, leave on one side the knowledge of the good. Yet that all
     the exponents of the arts should be ignorant of, and should not even seek,
     so great an aid is not probable. It is hard, too, to see how a weaver or a
     carpenter will be benefited in regard to his own craft by knowing this 'good
     itself', or how the man who has viewed the Idea itself will be a better doctor
     or general thereby. For a doctor seems not even to study health in this
     way, but the health of man, or perhaps rather the health of a particular
     man; it is individuals that he is healing. But enough of these topics.

     7
     Let us again return to the good we are seeking, and ask what it can be. It
     seems different in different actions and arts; it is different in medicine, in
     strategy, and in the other arts likewise. What then is the good of each?
     Surely that for whose sake everything else is done. In medicine this is
     health, in strategy victory, in architecture a house, in any other sphere
     something else, and in every action and pursuit the end; for it is for the
     sake of this that all men do whatever else they do. Therefore, if there is an
     end for all that we do, this will be the good achievable by action, and if
     there are more than one, these will be the goods achievable by action.

     So the argument has by a different course reached the same point; but we
     must try to state this even more clearly. Since there are evidently more
     than one end, and we choose some of these (e.g. wealth, flutes, and in
     general instruments) for the sake of something else, clearly not all ends
     are final ends; but the chief good is evidently something final. Therefore, if
     there is only one final end, this will be what we are seeking, and if there are
     more than one, the most final of these will be what we are seeking. Now
     we call that which is in itself worthy of pursuit more final than that which is
     worthy of pursuit for the sake of something else, and that which is never
     desirable for the sake of something else more final than the things that are
     desirable both in themselves and for the sake of that other thing, and
     therefore we call final without qualification that which is always desirable in
     itself and never for the sake of something else.

     Now such a thing happiness, above all else, is held to be; for this we
     choose always for self and never for the sake of something else, but
     honour, pleasure, reason, and every virtue we choose indeed for
     themselves (for if nothing resulted from them we should still choose each
     of them), but we choose them also for the sake of happiness, judging that
     by means of them we shall be happy. Happiness, on the other hand, no
     one chooses for the sake of these, nor, in general, for anything other than
     itself.

     From the point of view of self-sufficiency the same result seems to follow;
     for the final good is thought to be self-sufficient. Now by self-sufficient we
     do not mean that which is sufficient for a man by himself, for one who lives
     a solitary life, but also for parents, children, wife, and in general for his
     friends and fellow citizens, since man is born for citizenship. But some limit
     must be set to this; for if we extend our requirement to ancestors and
     descendants and friends' friends we are in for an infinite series. Let us
     examine this question, however, on another occasion; the self-sufficient
     we now define as that which when isolated makes life desirable and
     lacking in nothing; and such we think happiness to be; and further we think
     it most desirable of all things, without being counted as one good thing
     among others- if it were so counted it would clearly be made more
     desirable by the addition of even the least of goods; for that which is
     added becomes an excess of goods, and of goods the greater is always
     more desirable. Happiness, then, is something final and self-sufficient, and
     is the end of action.

     Presumably, however, to say that happiness is the chief good seems a
     platitude, and a clearer account of what it is still desired. This might
     perhaps be given, if we could first ascertain the function of man. For just
     as for a flute-player, a sculptor, or an artist, and, in general, for all things
     that have a function or activity, the good and the 'well' is thought to reside
     in the function, so would it seem to be for man, if he has a function. Have
     the carpenter, then, and the tanner certain functions or activities, and has
     man none? Is he born without a function? Or as eye, hand, foot, and in
     general each of the parts evidently has a function, may one lay it down that
     man similarly has a function apart from all these? What then can this be?
     Life seems to be common even to plants, but we are seeking what is
     peculiar to man. Let us exclude, therefore, the life of nutrition and growth.
     Next there would be a life of perception, but it also seems to be common
     even to the horse, the ox, and every animal. There remains, then, an active
     life of the element that has a rational principle; of this, one part has such a
     principle in the sense of being obedient to one, the other in the sense of
     possessing one and exercising thought. And, as 'life of the rational
     element' also has two meanings, we must state that life in the sense of
     activity is what we mean; for this seems to be the more proper sense of the
     term. Now if the function of man is an activity of soul which follows or
     implies a rational principle, and if we say 'so-and-so-and 'a good so-and-so'
     have a function which is the same in kind, e.g. a lyre, and a good
     lyre-player, and so without qualification in all cases, eminence in respect of
     goodness being idded to the name of the function (for the function of a
     lyre-player is to play the lyre, and that of a good lyre-player is to do so well):
     if this is the case, and we state the function of man to be a certain kind of
     life, and this to be an activity or actions of the soul implying a rational
     principle, and the function of a good man to be the good and noble
     performance of these, and if any action is well performed when it is
     performed in accordance with the appropriate excellence: if this is the
     case, human good turns out to be activity of soul in accordance with virtue,
     and if there are more than one virtue, in accordance with the best and
     most complete.

     But we must add 'in a complete life.' For one swallow does not make a
     summer, nor does one day; and so too one day, or a short time, does not
     make a man blessed and happy.

     Let this serve as an outline of the good; for we must presumably first
     sketch it roughly, and then later fill in the details. But it would seem that
     any one is capable of carrying on and articulating what has once been well
     outlined, and that time is a good discoverer or partner in such a work; to
     which facts the advances of the arts are due; for any one can add what is
     lacking. And we must also remember what has been said before, and not
     look for precision in all things alike, but in each class of things such
     precision as accords with the subject-matter, and so much as is
     appropriate to the inquiry. For a carpenter and a geometer investigate the
     right angle in different ways; the former does so in so far as the right angle
     is useful for his work, while the latter inquires what it is or what sort of thing
     it is; for he is a spectator of the truth. We must act in the same way, then,
     in all other matters as well, that our main task may not be subordinated to
     minor questions. Nor must we demand the cause in all matters alike; it is
     enough in some cases that the fact be well established, as in the case of
     the first principles; the fact is the primary thing or first principle. Now of first
     principles we see some by induction, some by perception, some by a
     certain habituation, and others too in other ways. But each set of principles
     we must try to investigate in the natural way, and we must take pains to
     state them definitely, since they have a great influence on what follows.
     For the beginning is thought to be more than half of the whole, and many
     of the questions we ask are cleared up by it.

     8
     We must consider it, however, in the light not only of our conclusion and
     our premisses, but also of what is commonly said about it; for with a true
     view all the data harmonize, but with a false one the facts soon clash. Now
     goods have been divided into three classes, and some are described as
     external, others as relating to soul or to body; we call those that relate to
     soul most properly and truly goods, and psychical actions and activities we
     class as relating to soul. Therefore our account must be sound, at least
     according to this view, which is an old one and agreed on by philosophers.
     It is correct also in that we identify the end with certain actions and
     activities; for thus it falls among goods of the soul and not among external
     goods. Another belief which harmonizes with our account is that the happy
     man lives well and does well; for we have practically defined happiness as
     a sort of good life and good action. The characteristics that are looked for
     in happiness seem also, all of them, to belong to what we have defined
     happiness as being. For some identify happiness with virtue, some with
     practical wisdom, others with a kind of philosophic wisdom, others with
     these, or one of these, accompanied by pleasure or not without pleasure;
     while others include also external prosperity. Now some of these views
     have been held by many men and men of old, others by a few eminent
     persons; and it is not probable that either of these should be entirely
     mistaken, but rather that they should be right in at least some one respect
     or even in most respects.

     With those who identify happiness with virtue or some one virtue our
     account is in harmony; for to virtue belongs virtuous activity. But it makes,
     perhaps, no small difference whether we place the chief good in
     possession or in use, in state of mind or in activity. For the state of mind
     may exist without producing any good result, as in a man who is asleep or
     in some other way quite inactive, but the activity cannot; for one who has
     the activity will of necessity be acting, and acting well. And as in the
     Olympic Games it is not the most beautiful and the strongest that are
     crowned but those who compete (for it is some of these that are
     victorious), so those who act win, and rightly win, the noble and good
     things in life.

     Their life is also in itself pleasant. For pleasure is a state of soul, and to
     each man that which he is said to be a lover of is pleasant; e.g. not only is
     a horse pleasant to the lover of horses, and a spectacle to the lover of
     sights, but also in the same way just acts are pleasant to the lover of
     justice and in general virtuous acts to the lover of virtue. Now for most men
     their pleasures are in conflict with one another because these are not by
     nature pleasant, but the lovers of what is noble find pleasant the things
     that are by nature pleasant; and virtuous actions are such, so that these
     are pleasant for such men as well as in their own nature. Their life,
     therefore, has no further need of pleasure as a sort of adventitious charm,
     but has its pleasure in itself. For, besides what we have said, the man who
     does not rejoice in noble actions is not even good; since no one would call
     a man just who did not enjoy acting justly, nor any man liberal who did not
     enjoy liberal actions; and similarly in all other cases. If this is so, virtuous
     actions must be in themselves pleasant. But they are also good and noble,
     and have each of these attributes in the highest degree, since the good
     man judges well about these attributes; his judgement is such as we have
     described. Happiness then is the best, noblest, and most pleasant thing in
     the world, and these attributes are not severed as in the inscription at
     Delos-

     Most noble is that which is justest, and best is health;
     But pleasantest is it to win what we love.

     For all these properties belong to the best activities; and these, or one- the
     best- of these, we identify with happiness.

     Yet evidently, as we said, it needs the external goods as well; for it is
     impossible, or not easy, to do noble acts without the proper equipment. In
     many actions we use friends and riches and political power as instruments;
     and there are some things the lack of which takes the lustre from
     happiness, as good birth, goodly children, beauty; for the man who is very
     ugly in appearance or ill-born or solitary and childless is not very likely to be
     happy, and perhaps a man would be still less likely if he had thoroughly bad
     children or friends or had lost good children or friends by death. As we
     said, then, happiness seems to need this sort of prosperity in addition; for
     which reason some identify happiness with good fortune, though others
     identify it with virtue.