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REDUCING THE SOPHIST TO SILENCE1 (336bā357a)
A heavy silence had greeted Socratesā question. So Thrasymachus felt that his time to speak had come. Many times over the course of the discussion heād been tormented by a burning desire to take part in it. But the people sitting around him had kept him from doing so because they wanted to follow the progression of the argument. This time, however, taking advantage of the confusion that had followed the return (oddly abrupt, itās true) to the original form of the question, Thrasymachus finally broke out of the silence theyād imposed on him and, flexing all his muscles, crouching like a wild beast about to bare its huge claws, he advanced on Socrates as if to tear him apart and devour him alive. Socrates and Polemarchus recoiled in terror. Once heād reached the middle of the room, the monster glowered at the whole audience and began speaking in a voice to which the roomās high ceiling, the French windows, the darkness that had fallen over the sailboats, indeed the whole world, seemed to lend a thunderous power:
āWhat pathetic hogwash Socrates has been subjecting us to for hours now! Whatās with all your kowtowing to each other and taking turns bombarding us with your stupid nonsense? If you2 really want to know what justice is, Socrates, stop asking pointless questions and rubbing your hands in glee when youāve refuted something one of your flustered sidekicks has managed to stammer out. Asking questions is easy, answering them less so. So tell us once and for all how you define justice. And donāt come telling us that justice is anything but justice, that itās duty, expediency, advantage, profit, interest, and so on. Tell us precisely and clearly what you have to say. Because I wonāt be like all the bit players in your three-ring circus, I wonāt put up with all your hot air.
At these words, Socrates, feigning ā or really feeling? ā panicky astonishment, stared for a moment at Thrasymachus, the way you do when, on a snowy evening, you encounter a wolf who might lock his cruel eyes on you first, in which case youāll be struck dumb, or so the old country women say. Then he went on in a somewhat tremulous voice:
āFortunately I saw you first tonight, you ferocious rhetorician! Otherwise I really might have lost my voice! But I still think Iāll try to placate the wolf who pounced on our conversation as on a little lamb trembling in fearā¦ Dear Thrasymachus! Donāt be angry with us! If Polemarchus and I were completely wrong in the way we went about considering the problem, you know very well that it wasnāt on purpose. Suppose we were searching for gold, like in a Western, with big cowboy hats on our heads and all that sort of thing. Can you really think that, with our feet in the water and our pans in our hands, weād bother deferring to each other and saying āAfter you, pardnerā and run the risk of not finding anything at all? Yet here we are searching for justice, which is a lot more important than some heap of gold nuggets, and youād think us capable of playing nice with each other all the time instead of devoting the utmost seriousness to bringing its Idea to light. No way! Thatās simply not possible. The best hypothesis is that weāre just plain incapable of finding what weāre looking for. And in that case let me say to you and to all the clever people of your sort: instead of giving us a hard time, show us a little mercy.
After hearing this speech Thrasymachus let out a sardonic laugh that gave the whole audience the creeps.
āI was right, for Peteās sake! Thatās the famous Socratic irony3 all right! I knew it, I told everyone around me: Socrates will never agree to answer. Heāll be as ironic as can be and do anything he can to avoid having to answer a precise question. By Heracles! I told you so!
āThatās because youāre so clever, Socrates said. You set up your calculations with the utmost care. If you ask someone how to get the number twelve in a math problem, knowing you, youāll add: āWhatever you do, my friend, donāt come telling me itās six times two, or four times three, or twenty-four divided by two, let alone that itās eleven plus one, or eight plus four or, as poor Kant wrote, seven plus five.4 Spare me any such nonsense.ā You, at any rate, know perfectly well that with those kinds of prohibitions no one will be able to answer your question. But the other person can still ask you a few questions. For example: āWhat exactly is your aim, O most subtle Thrasymachus? That I shouldnāt give you any of the answers youāve forbidden me to give? But what if one, or even several, of them, happen to be true? Whatās your hidden agenda then? That I should say something other than the truth?ā How would you respond to this hypothetical interlocutor?
But Thrasymachus wasnāt fazed and said:
āThatās easy: Whatās that got to do with the question of justice? As usual, youāre just switching horses as soon as you see that yours is going to lose the race.
āBut there is a connection! My twelve and my justice are horses from the same stable. But, OK, letās assume that thereās no connection. Do you imagine that if your interlocutor thinks there is one, heāll change the answer he thinks is right simply because youāve forbidden it?
āOh, for crying out loud! You want to do the very same thing! You want to define justice with one of the words I forbade you to use.
āWell, no wonder if I did. Iād just have to think, after giving it serious dialectical consideration, that itās the right word.
āAll that stuff about duty, propriety, interest, advantage! Thatās the kind of junk you want to use to plug the leaky bucket of your argument? Confound it! If I can show you, first of all, that thereās another answer you havenāt even thought of and, second of all, that that answer blows to bits all the stupid things youāve been kicking around, what sentence will you impose on yourself?
āThe sentence that someone who doesnāt know has to submit to: learning from someone who does know. Thatās the punishment Iāll sentence myself to.
āWell, youāll be getting off lightly, Thrasymachus said with a sneer. In addition to having to learn, youāll have to fork over a big stack of dollars to me.
āI will when I have any, if I have any somedayā¦
But Glaucon, a rich kid, didnāt want the confrontation that was brewing to be put off on account of money.
āYou have everything you need, Socrates, he said. And you, Thrasymachus, if itās money youāre after, go ahead and say so! Weāll all take up a collection for Socrates.
āYeah, right! hissed Thrasymachus. So that Socrates can do his usual number on me: he never answers, the other person answers, he makes mincemeat of what the person says, he refutes him, and thatās that!
āBut, my dear friend, said Socrates calmly, how can I answer, given that, in the first place, I donāt know, and, in the second place, all I ever do is say that the only thing I know is that I donāt know, and, in the third place, even assuming that I do know and that I say that I know, I would nevertheless keep quiet, since someone whoās topnotch, namely you, has forbidden me beforehand to give any of the answers I deem appropriate to the question? Youāre the one who should speak, since in the first place you say you know, and in the second place you know what you say. Come on! Donāt play hard to get! If you speak, youāll be doing me a favor, and youāll show that you donāt look down on Glauconās and his friendsā desire to learn from the great Thrasymachus.
Glaucon and the others all chimed in and begged Thrasymachus to give in. It was plain that he wanted to, certain as he was of the applause that his devastating answer to the question of the day ā āWhat is justice?ā ā would earn him. But for a moment longer he pretended to go on arguing that Socrates should be the one to answer. At last he gave up, remarking:
āThis is the classic example of Socratesā āwisdomā: he announces he has nothing to teach anyone, but when it comes to stealing other peopleās ideas, heās only too willing, and never says thank you!
āWhen you say I learn from others, Socrates shot back, youāre perfectly right. But when you claim I never thank them, youāre wrong. Naturally I donāt pay for the lessons, because I donāt have any dollars or euros or drachmas or yen. On the other hand, Iām very generous with praise. Whatās more, youāll soon find out how fervently I admire someone who speaks well ā in fact, just as soon as youāve answered my question, an answer that I have a hunch will surprise us all.
Thrasymachus then came forward, stood up very straight, and closed his eyes like the Pythia at Delphi, meditating. On the shade-filled patio the silence was deafening.
āListen, listen very carefully. I say that justice is not and cannot be anything but the interest of the stronger.
He then fixed his withering gaze on Socrates. But the silence persisted, since Socrates, short and potbellied, his eyes big and round and his arms dangling at his sides, looked like a disappointed dog being offered a slice of pumpkin.
Thrasymachus was annoyed.
āSo whereās all this famous praise of yours? he said. Youāre as quiet as a mouse. Youāre such a sore loser, totally incapable of congratulating your opponent on his win. And you call yourself the wisest of men! Bravo!
āForgive me, but first I have to be sure I understand you. Letās see. You say: āJustice is the interest of the stronger.ā What exactly does that statement mean? Take a bicycle racer, for example. Letās say heās the stronger party when it comes to biking up mountains. Letās say itās in his interest to dope himself by shooting EPO in his behind, so as to race even faster and to shatter all the records. You canāt really mean, can you, that justice for us would be to inject ourselves relentlessly in the backside, since thatās whatās in the interest of the stronger?
āOh, youāre downright despicable, Socrates! You purposely misinterpret my words and plaster them onto some disgusting anecdote just to make me look like a fool.
āNot at all. I just think you need to clarify your splendid maxim. Itās as hard and black as coalā¦
āCoal? What on earth are you talking about?
ā. . . as the coal that diamonds are mined from. Let your maxim simmer a bit for us in the broth of its context, as our modern orators would say.
āAll right, I see what you mean. You know that the constitutions of different countries can be monarchical, aristocratic, or democratic. Furthermore, in every country the government has a monopoly on force, specifically armed force. It can then be observed that every government makes laws favoring its own interest: democrats make democratic laws, aristocrats aristocratic laws, and so on. In short, governments, which have force at their command, declare whateverās in their own interest to be lawful and just. If a citizen disobeys, they punish him insofar as he has broken the law and acted unjustly. So that, dear friend, is what I say is invariably justice in every country: the interest of the government in power. And since that government has a monopoly on force, the conclusion that anyone who reasons correctly will draw from this is that justice is always and everywhere the same, namely whatās in the interest of the stronger.
And, so saying, Thrasymachus cast a triumphant glance over the audience.
Socratesā face lit up:
āNow I understand what you meant!
But just as quickly it darkened:
āUnfortunately, Iām not at all sure that itās true. Right off the bat, someone hearing you might say (and here Socrates impersonated a comic actor speaking with a nasal intonation): āVery odd! Very odd! And to be precise: very odd!5 Thrasymachus strictly forbade Socrates to say that justice is interest. But a couple of minutes later, what does he himself loudly proclaim? That justice is interest.ā Naturally Iād object to this guy with the stuffed nose: āCareful, sir, careful! He said interest, sure, but of the stronger.ā
āAn insignificant detail! snorted Thrasymachus.
āWhether itās important or not isnāt clear yet. But what is absolutely clear is that we need to examine whether itās really the truth thatās coming out of your mouth, as naked and pure as a cherub.
āWould you get a load of this Socrates! said a jubilant Thrasymachus, turning to face the audience. He thinks I cough up angels!
āLetās put off examining your sputum till later. Iāll grant you that whatās just is in the interest of a Subject. Whether we should add āthe stronger Subjectā Iām not so sure, but we need to take a close look at that.
āGo ahead and look, Socrates, examine, consider, weigh, and quibble to your...