6 The Division of Goods and the Defence of Justice

In the last two chapters we have seen that Plato was keenly aware of the sophistic debate about justice and that he engages with it in the early parts of Republic. The immoralist challenge he puts into the mouths of Glaucon and Adeimantus draws from and reconstructs the ideas of the sophists, and, in particular, the Moral Cynics. Even the genuinely novel figure of the Dorian Rogue serves to highlight a theoretical weakness of one type of argument popular among the earlier Friends of Justice. This weakness made their arguments susceptible to being co-opted by a clever Cynical thinker, as Plato himself ably shows with the example of the Rogue who wins the Refined External Goods in addition to the Crude External Goods normally associated with injustice. The previous chapter ended by calling attention to Adeimantus’ Diagnosis. In it Adeimantus places the blame for his contemporaries’ proclivity towards injustice on the failures of past defenders of morality. But he also clearly implies that someone might rectify the situation by offering a new and persuasive defence of justice that is free from the weaknesses of the past Friends. This is important for our purposes. It suggests that beyond merely influencing Glaucon and Adeimantus’ challenge, the sophistic debate in fact shapes the entire trajectory of Republic.

And so it does. Below I further analyse the brothers’ challenge to show that their demands about how Socrates should defend justice are informed by their understanding of the failures of past moralists. I then argue that it is in the light of these failures that we must understand Glaucon’s fundamental distinction between the value justice possesses for the sake of ‘the things that come from it’ and the value it possesses ‘all on its own’. According to this distinction, one praises justice in the former way by appealing to the benefits one gets on account of being recognised as just by other agents, whereas one praises justice in the latter way by appealing to all the ways it reliably contributes to the prospering of the just agent absent the mediation of other agents—that is to say, to the ways it contributes to the just agent’s prospering by itself. The brothers ask to hear about the value justice possesses all on its own because any praise based on this sort of value will be immune to the objections that plagued the past Friends. And so in Books II–IX, Plato has Socrates make the case that justice is valuable all on its own by arguing that it contributes to the just individual’s prospering even if they are not recognised as just by others. That Socrates so scrupulously follows the brothers’ request, which is informed by their analysis of the 5th-century debate, indicates that the contours of Republic’s central argument are influenced by that debate.

Or it would indicate this if my historically informed interpretation of the brothers’ challenge and their subsequent requests could be so easily accepted. Unfortunately, many scholars interpret the distinction between possessing value all on its own and possessing it because of the things that come from something differently than I do. Based on a reading of Glaucon’s famous division of goods, these scholars have insisted that this fundamental distinction is rather akin to the familiar distinction between intrinsic and instrumental value.¹ As a result, these scholars interpret the challenge and Socrates’ response to it very differently than I do.² They offer a much more restrictive interpretation, according to which Socrates is to exclude all non-intrinsic value from his praise of justice in Books II–IX, not merely the good things that accrue to the individual on account of being recognised as just. Given the prominence of this interpretation, I must respond to it here. Thus in the second part of this chapter I present my own reading of the famous division of goods and then defend that reading by responding to one important objection to it. Once this is done, I conclude by turning to Socrates’ later arguments and showing they unfold just as one would expect given Glaucon and Adeimantus’ analysis of the past debate and, in particular, their concern to hear a defence of justice that avoids the problems faced by the earlier Friends of Justice.

The challenge posed to Socrates in the first half of Book II provides clear expectations about how the remainder of the dialogue should unfold. Glaucon’s purpose in ‘rehabilitating’ Thrasymachus’ argument and speaking at such length in praise of injustice is to facilitate a persuasive defence of justice and its value. Recall that Glaucon bluntly passes judgement on Socrates and Thrasymachus’ conversation by noting, ‘it seems to me that Thrasymachus was charmed by you earlier than was necessary, as if a snake, so there has not yet been a demonstration about [justice and injustice] to my liking’ (358b2–3). The implication is that Socrates will not be able to offer a persuasive demonstration of justice’s value without first encountering an advocate for injustice who can make a decent argument on behalf of vice and push back on Socrates’ claims about justice from Book I.

There are at least two reasons why this should be the case. The most obvious is that the interlocutors will not be able to judge whether the life of justice is better than the life of injustice without first hearing a full case for each. Otherwise, on what would they base their judgement?³ This provides the general motivation behind Glaucon and Adeimantus’ intervention in Book II. They make the strongest case they can in favour of injustice so that Socrates, the partisan of justice, can convince them that the argument against injustice is stronger still. Another reason why it is necessary to begin with a new challenge to morality was hinted at in the previous chapter. Doing so alerts Socrates to the failings of past moralists and indicates strategies that must be avoided going forward. Glaucon and Adeimantus are adamant that past moralists have failed to defend justice effectively because they have relied on arguments that appeal to the reputations, honours and gifts that purportedly follow from justice. As a result, they vehemently insist that anyone who wishes to offer a persuasive defence of justice must find a new and different strategy.

In other words, the case for injustice also needs to be stated because it identifies paths that Socrates must not take in the remainder of the dialogue, and, in so doing, it gestures towards more convincing paths that he might take. Nor are the brothers very subtle about pointing Socrates in the right argumentative direction. Consider how Adeimantus concludes the challenge (367b3–e4):

Don’t only show us in the abstract that justice is stronger than injustice, but [show] what each does because of itself to the one possessing it—the one that it is bad, the other that it is good.⁴ Exclude the reputations, just as Glaucon ordered. For if you don’t exclude the true reputations from each and add the false ones, we will say you are not praising justice but the seeming [to be just] nor blaming injustice but the seeming [to be unjust], and [we will say] you are agreeing with Thrasymachus that justice is the good of another, a benefit of the stronger, whereas injustice is a benefit and profit to oneself, and harmful to the weaker person … Leave the wages and reputations to others to praise. Because I would accept others praising justice and blaming injustice in this way—extolling and reviling the reputations and wages about them—but not from you, unless you were to order [it], since you have spent your whole life considering nothing else but this. So then don’t only show us in the abstract that justice is stronger than injustice, but [show], too, what each because of itself makes the one possessing it—the one that it is bad, the other that it is good, whether it escapes the notice of the gods and other humans or not.⁵

These are the final words addressed to Socrates before he launches into the central argument of Republic, which runs until the end of Book IX. This passage ends with the exhortation that Socrates leave the wages and reputations (μισθοὺς καὶ δόξας) of justice to others and that he focus instead on what justice because of itself makes or does to the one possessing it (τί ποιοῦσα τὸν ἔχοντα αὐτὴ δι’ αὑτήν). Given that Socrates presents himself as anxious to do what the brothers want (see 368b–c), we have reason to believe that he will do what he is asked in the remainder of the dialogue. It is, therefore, crucial to understand what the brothers mean by telling him to leave aside the wages and reputations of justice and to focus on what justice does to or makes the just person.

The mention of this contrast brings us back to the distinction introduced in the previous chapter between praising something all on its own and praising it for the sake of what comes from it. The distinction is first drawn by Glaucon at the very outset of Book II in his famous division of goods. Yet it is almost immediately incorporated into the brothers’ challenge, where it becomes fundamental to their analysis of the past debate about justice and injustice. We will turn to the text of the division of goods soon enough. For the moment, consider the first time Glaucon employs this distinction to explain what he wants to hear from Socrates. Right after saying that Thrasymachus was charmed too early, Glaucon explains: ‘I desire to hear what each [sc. justice and injustice] is and what power each has all on its own (αὐτὸ καθ᾽ αὑτὸ) in the soul. Forget about the wages (μισθοὺς) and the things that come to be from them (τὰ γιγνομένα ἀπ’ αὐτῶν)’ (358b4–7). Glaucon wants to hear what justice is and does all on its own; he does not want to hear about the things that come to be from it. Following this first use of the distinction in the challenge, different versions appear—albeit with slight linguistic variations—over and over again. Adeimantus, for example, opens his contribution to the challenge by noting that most defenders of justice ‘don’t praise justice itself (αὐτὸ δικαιοσύνην) but the good reputations that come from it (τὰς ἀπ᾽ αὐτῆς εὐδοκιμήσεις) so that by means of seeming to be just offices and wives and all the things Glaucon just now mentioned will come to be from the good reputation’ (363a1–5). And, as we have just seen, he ends his contribution with another invocation of that same distinction.⁶

So what, exactly, is the point of this distinction of which the brothers make so much? Though there has been significant scholarly confusion around this question, I want to argue that matters are relatively straightforward. When Adeimantus and Glaucon urge Socrates not to praise justice for the things that come from it (or for its wages and reputations, both of which are frequently invoked as things arising from it), they are urging him not to praise justice by appealing to the benefits that accrue to individuals because they are recognised as just. Three initial observations support this interpretation. The first is that wages and reputations are things one gets after one is seen or otherwise recognised as having done something. This is self-evident in the case of reputations, but it is also true of wages. Outside of Republic, Plato uses the word ‘μισθός’ almost exclusively to refer to monetary fees. A wage is a remuneration received for services rendered—in most cases, for educational services.⁷ And one must be recognised as having completed such services—and preferably as having completed them well—to get paid.⁸ In our dialogue wages evidently refer to more than just monetary rewards, but there is no good reason to think that Plato changes his mind about the basic processes through which one wins wages. So, the vocabulary itself suggests that the things coming to be from justice are things that come to be from being recognised as just. This is further suggested by the fact that Adeimantus focuses so much on the appearance of justice. In the above passage he contrasts praising justice for itself with praising the appearance or ‘seeming’ (τὸ δοκεῖν) of it, which can give rise to such things as political offices and wives. He warns Socrates that if considerations such as these are not excluded he will not be praising justice all on its own but the seeming of it, suggesting that the seeming of justice is the relevant contrast case to justice itself. However, perhaps the most compelling reason for thinking that the things that come to be from justice depend on recognition is that past moralists are criticised for their attempts at defending justice precisely because they appealed to the things that come from justice: ‘No one has yet blamed injustice nor praised justice aside from the reputations, honours and gifts that come to be from them’ (366e3–5). The brothers desperately want Socrates to do something different than this.

This, then, is one side of the distinction. To praise justice for its wages and reputations—or for the things that come from it—is to praise it for the profitable consequences that accrue to the individual because they are recognised as just. What, then, is it to praise justice because of itself or all on its own? Aside from Glaucon’s suggestion that Socrates will have to mention what justice does to the soul at 358b4–7, we do not get much insight into what this sort of praise is expected to look like. The brothers’ main concern is clearly that this type of praise be co-option-proof. They do not want Socrates’ defence to be susceptible to the sort of objections to which the past Friends’ defences were susceptible. And to that end they articulate a picture of the value justice has all on its own primarily by excluding other, objectionable ways of possessing value. This is done consciously. Consider, for example, Glaucon’s important methodological statement at 361c1–5:

We must take away the seeming. For if [the just individual] will seem to be just, then there will be honours and gifts for them since they seem to be this sort of person. It would then be unclear whether they were that sort of person because of justice or the gifts and honours. We must make them naked of everything except for justice …

Strip away the attractive aspects of the just individual’s life save for those that derive from justice itself in the soul. Only then will one be able to appreciate the contribution justice makes to human prospering all on its own. Adeimantus is clearly getting at the same idea when, in the passage quoted at length above, he twice asks to hear what justice because of itself makes the one possessing it. He wants to hear what good things will happen to the just individual simply in virtue of their possession of justice, not whatever happens through the mediation of other agents.

This is a clever—sophisticated, even—sounding philosophical strategy. It is reminiscent of Moore’s famous method of isolation for determining whether something is intrinsically valuable.⁹ Socrates is to strip away everything from the just individual except for justice in order to evaluate its true contribution to prospering. Doing so will make his defence of justice persuasive because it will then be immune to the problems that the earlier Friends of Justice faced. In particular, by removing all the good things that come from seeming to be just Socrates’ defence will not be vulnerable to being undercut or co-opted by the character of the Dorian Rogue, who gets all the good things that come from being recognised as just while nevertheless being unjust.

At this point the reader is surely wondering what other attractive aspects of the just life need to be removed to evaluate justice all on its own. What more needs to go to leave the just individual naked of everything save for justice and to render Socrates’ praise of justice immune from the sorts of objections with which Glaucon and Adeimantus are so concerned? The answer to this question is found in the last passage. It is, in fact, only the seeming—along with the rewards that follow from it—that Glaucon and Adeimantus explicitly mention as needing to be excised from Socrates’ forthcoming defence.¹⁰ And the reason for this is presumably straightforward: the brothers believe that to isolate the contribution justice makes to the prospering of the just individual all on its own it is sufficient to exclude the rewards of justice that come from a reputation for it.

This belief may seem strange or even wrong. But it is entirely understandable against the historical background discussed in Part I of this book. Here it is crucial to bear in mind that the goods which featured most prominently in the earlier debate were the Crude and Refined External Goods. The former were the goods that the Cynics typically claimed injustice could win; the latter were what the Friends often relied on in making their own case for the profitability of justice. Glaucon and Adeimantus introduce the Rogue in large part because this character shows that it is possible for the unjust agent to win all the External Goods and, with them, most of the goods contested in the 5th-century debate about justice. Yet, having done so much work to show that the reputational rewards normally associated with justice are not, in fact, necessarily tied to justice, Plato must have realised that there existed conceptual space for other benefits associated with justice. Indeed, any good thing that came from virtue itself—rather than a reputation for it or the material goods won through this reputation—would be safe from the arguments that upset the earlier moralists. With the possible exception of Democritus (of whom Plato and his brothers evince no awareness), no previous thinker had made inroads into this safe space for justice. Glaucon and Adeimantus ask Socrates to do exactly that. They urge him to make a novel case for justice by asking for a defence that passes what we might call the ‘Dorian Rogue Test’. Socrates must show that the just individual lives a better life than the unjust individual even if the latter somehow wins for themself all the External Goods normally associated with justice and injustice. He must, moreover, show that this is true even if the just individual is deprived of all these goods. This is the only decisive way to show that justice all on its own is what makes the just life prosperous.

If this is the right way to understand the brothers’ distinction between praising justice because of the things that come from it and because of itself, then the challenge they pose in Book II gives us clear expectations about how Socrates should argue in the remainder of the dialogue. He ought simply to demonstrate that justice is valuable and contributes to human prospering without appealing to any benefits that depend upon the just individual being recognised as just by other agents. This is the way to overcome the failures of the past Friends of Justice and offer a persuasive defence of justice with the potential to establish that it is profitable and prudent to live justly.

Before moving on to discuss the division of goods and other potential difficulties of my view, it is worth pointing out that Socrates gives no indication that he seriously objects to the brothers’ procedure or that he rejects any of their requests. Quite the contrary. We shall see later on that there is an overwhelming amount of textual evidence that Socrates not only accepts the brothers’ distinction as I have described it but also that by the end of Book IX he takes himself to have shown that justice is valuable all on its own precisely because he has shown that it contributes to the just individual’s prospering even if they get no wages or reputation from it. And this, once again, is exactly what we should expect given everything the brothers say in their challenge. There is no more fitting way to end this section than by reminding ourselves of the concluding lines of the brothers’ challenge: ‘Don’t only show us in the abstract that justice is stronger than injustice, but [show], too, what each because of itself makes the one possessing it—the one that it is bad, the other that it is good, whether it escapes the notice of the gods and other humans or not.’

Despite the existence of such passages, my understanding of the distinction between the value that justice possesses all on its own and the value it possesses because of the things that come from it is controversial. To see why, let us take a look at the division of goods from the beginning of Book II. In this famous passage Glaucon distinguishes three different kinds of goods and the different types of value they possess. The first kind (Kind-A: 357b5–8) of good is one:

we would choose to have not desiring the things that arise from it but welcoming it for the sake of itself (αὐτὸ αὑτοῦ ἕνεκα): rejoicing, for example, or the harmless pleasures from which nothing comes in the future other than rejoicing.

The second (Kind-B; 357c2–4) is that which:

we prize both on account of itself (αὐτό τε αὑτοῦ χάριν) and on account of the things that come from it (τῶν ἀπ’ αὐτοῦ γιγνομένων): knowing, for example, and seeing and being healthy.

The final kind (Kind-C; 357c6–d2) is introduced in the following way:

There is athletic training, being treated while sick, and practising medicine as well as the other money-making activities. For we would say these are onerous, but that they benefit us, and we would not choose to have them for the sake of themselves (ἑαυτῶν ἕνεκα), but on account of the wages and the other things that come from them (τῶν δὲ μισθῶν τε χάριν καὶ τῶν ἄλλων ὅσα γίγνεται ἀπ’ αὐτῶν).

After making this tripartite division, Glaucon asks Socrates what kind of good he thinks justice is. The latter claims that it is a Kind-B Good and further suggests that anyone who hopes to live a prosperous life ought to prize justice both because of itself and because of the things that come from it, though he believes that the value it possesses because of itself makes a much, much larger contribution to our prospering than the totality of the things that come from it (358a1–3).

The division of goods has occupied scholarly attention for nearly a century. Many scholars have based their interpretation of the dialogue and its considered account of justice’s value primarily on their reading of it. Yet because they typically ascribe greater importance to this passage and read it differently than I do, many have also developed a very different interpretation of the project of Republic than the historically informed interpretation sketched above. Broadly speaking, there are two ways people have interpreted the division of goods in the past. According to the dominant way of understanding the division and the argument that follows, which I have elsewhere called the No-Effects interpretation,¹¹ Glaucon’s division of goods draws a distinction similar to our own distinction between intrinsic and instrumental value. The example of pleasures and the language of valuing it ‘for the sake of itself’ has convinced generations of scholars that Kind-A Goods possess value in themselves—that is to say, independently of any of their causal effects. Similarly, the example of money-making activities being valued for the things that come from them has suggested that Kind-C Goods are instrumentally valuable. And since Glaucon’s division evidently presents Kind-B goods as possessing the value of the other two kinds, this interpretation claims that Kind-B Goods are hybrid goods: valuable both intrinsically and instrumentally.

This broad interpretation of the division of goods enjoys fairly wide support. It has been endorsed by many scholars of ancient philosophy.¹² It is also frequently touted by contemporary ethicists.¹³ Although the details of individual interpretations may differ, proponents of this dominant view generally agree that to say Kind-B Goods are valuable because of the things that come from them is to say that they are valuable in virtue of any and all their (beneficial) causal effects, whereas to say that they are valuable all on their own is to say that they are valuable independently of these effects. This has led sophisticated advocates of the dominant interpretation to claim that we must see Socrates as defending the value of justice by showing that it is literally a part or constituent element of human prospering. Terence Irwin, for example, says: ‘If Plato’s claims about the intrinsic goodness of justice are consistent with his promise to prove that justice contributes to happiness … then he ought to show that justice is a dominant component of happiness.’¹⁴ It cannot be that justice makes a causal contribution to the prospering of the just agent because then its value wouldn’t be intrinsic, which is what these scholars take Glaucon to be indicating when his division of goods suggests that justice is valuable all on its own or on account of itself. Of course, proponents of this interpretation maintain that Socrates also believes that justice is instrumentally valuable. But they believe that any instrumental value must be excluded from the praise of justice all on its own and may only be mentioned again in Book X, once the central defence of justice as valuable because of itself has been completed at the end of Book IX.

A number of other scholars have, however, rejected this interpretation. Based on evidence from elsewhere in Republic, rather than the division itself, some have concluded that causal effects must feature in the value justice possesses all on its own.¹⁵ There is no consensus as to which effects of justice are allowed into the praise of justice all on its own, but these scholars are united in rejecting the idea that no causal consequences can feature in the value justice possesses all on its own.¹⁶

My own view aligns with this latter group of scholars. Some causal consequences of justice can indeed feature in the value it possesses because of itself. Unfortunately, this view remains the minority position in the literature. So, I must here argue against the dominant interpretation of Glaucon’s division of goods and what that division entails about Socrates’ argument that follows.

We should start by pointing out that the brothers’ challenge is itself a major strike against the dominant interpretation. For though Glaucon first introduces the division of goods in the abstract and analytical way presented above, he and Adeimantus almost immediately put the distinction drawn in that division to work in the challenge. And absolutely nothing about that challenge suggests that praising justice all on its own is supposed to preclude citing any of its causal effects. On the contrary, Socrates is asked by both brothers to praise justice by showing what justice does to or makes the just individual, which suggests that some of its effects are expected to feature in his demonstration.¹⁷ There is, moreover, nothing in the brothers’ challenge suggesting that the value justice possesses because of the things that come from it includes all its causal effects, which is what we would expect if the dominant interpretation of the division of goods were correct. As we have seen above, the brothers consistently connect the value justice possesses because of the things that come from it with—and only with—the benefits the just individual receives on account of being recognised as just by others. Proponents of the dominant interpretation can offer no satisfactory explanation as to why the brothers speak as if the things that come from justice are exhausted by the benefits one gets because of having been recognised as just by others.

Yet though my interpretation of the two ways justice possesses value fares well when it comes to the brothers’ challenge, it is not obvious how to square my interpretation with the division of goods. I have suggested that justice is supposed to possess value because of the things that come from it in virtue of being recognised and then responded to by other agents. But it is—to put it mildly—not at all clear that this should be so from the way Glaucon introduces and describes the Kind-C Goods, which are (like justice) valuable because of the things that come from them. Thus, to defend my claims about justice in Republic, we must reconsider the famous division of goods.

Consider again Glaucon’s initial characterisation of the Kind-C Goods (357c8–d2):

For we would say these are onerous, but that they benefit us, and we would not choose to have them for the sake of themselves, but on account of [1]‌ the wages and [2] the other things that come from them.¹⁸

To understand the sort of value ascribed to these goods, we must analyse ‘[1]‌ the wages and [2] the other things that come from them’. Let us consider the two parts of this expression separately. I have already argued that wages refer to those goods that accrue to an individual only after they have been recognised as having done something. Consequently, to value a Kind-C Good on account of its wages should be to value it on account of the good things that somehow come from being recognised. But what of ‘the other things that come from them’? If this refers to any and everything that might come from a good, such as beauty, confidence or comfort, then the Kind-C Goods are valuable in a much different way than I have been suggesting. But this is far from certain.

Note, in the first place, that there is a question about how to construe the Greek here. There are at least two possible antecedents to which the final word of the expression could refer. All the translations I know of read the ‘them’ (αὐτῶν) in [2]‌ as picking up the earlier ‘them’ (αὐτά), which is itself a pronoun whose antecedent is the Kind-C Goods under discussion in this passage. On this construal ‘the other things that come from them’ (τῶν ἄλλων ὅσα γίγνεται ἀπ’ αὐτῶν) are everything other than the wages which come to be from the Kind-C Goods.¹⁹ However, it is also possible for the antecedent of ‘them’ to be ‘the wages’ (τῶν δὲ μισθῶν) in [1], in which case Glaucon would be saying that the Kind-C Goods are valuable on account of their wages and the things that come from those wages.²⁰ If this is the correct way to read the Greek, then the value of the Kind-C Goods derives entirely from their wages, which themselves depend on recognition.²¹

At least two considerations suggest that this neglected construal may be preferable to the alternative. Firstly, the proximity of ‘the wages’ to ‘from them’ would seem to make ‘the wages’ the natural antecedent. Secondly, in a nearby parallel passage mentioning ‘the other things that come from them’, wages are the only plural antecedent available.²² But even if one does not read the Greek in this way and sticks with the more familiar construal, there is good reason to think the second part of Glaucon’s expression must also refer to rewards deriving from reputation of one sort or another. This is made clear a few lines later in the only other text in our dialogue that explicitly discusses the nature and value of the Kind-C Goods as a class. Consider (358a1–6):

[S] I at least think that [justice] is in the finest kind [of goods], [the kind] which ought to be prized both because of itself and because of the things that come from it by the one who is going to be blessed.

[G] Well, it does not seem so to the many, but rather that [it] is a member of the painful kind [of goods], [the kind] which should be practised for the sake of wages and good repute coming from reputation …²³

I have found it necessary to fill out the structure of this passage because its translation is sometimes blundered—in a big way. Grube’s translation (later revised by C. D. C. Reeve), for example, renders the last two lines as follows: ‘That isn’t most people’s opinion. They’d say that justice belongs to the onerous kind, and is to be practiced for the sake of the rewards and popularity that come from a reputation for justice.’²⁴ This translation runs roughshod over the neuter relative pronoun (ὅ) and takes justice as the subject of the relative clause. But this cannot be correct. The marked parallelism with the previous two lines, which are clearly not about justice itself but about the entire class of Kind-B Goods, and the ready availability of a neuter noun compel us to construe ‘the painful kind’ (τοῦ ἐπιπόνου εἴδους) as the antecedent of ὅ and translate it as I have above.²⁵

This is crucial because, once read correctly, this passage does not offer a statement about why justice is to be practised according to the many. Rather, it offers a supplementary characterisation of the Kind-C Goods and their value as well as a statement that most people consider justice to be a good of that kind. We can, therefore, draw from this characterisation to supplement our account of Kind-C Goods from the division itself, which unfortunately leaves the source of these goods’ value underspecified. This second passage indicates that, aside from any wages, the Kind-C Goods are valuable because of ‘good reputations coming from reputation’ (μισθῶν … εὐδοκιμήσεων διὰ δόξαν).²⁶ This should be read back into the initial division to fill out the valuable effects possessed by the Kind-C Goods. We must understand that they are valuable on account of [1]‌ the wages and [2] good reputation (as well as anything else that follows from these). So even if we reject the alternative translation of the division presented above, there is compelling textual evidence that the Kind-C Goods are valuable for effects that depend on recognition of one sort or another.

On closer inspection, then, it looks as though Glaucon’s opening claims about the Kind-C Goods are not so hostile to my interpretation as they first appeared. There is a straightforward, textually based reading of the division of goods that makes it at least broadly compatible with the interpretation presented above. That being said, there is one serious philosophical objection to this reading which must now be confronted. The objection takes its cue from the examples of Kind-C Goods given by Glaucon. Those examples are athletic training (τὸ γυμνάζεσθαι), medical treatment while sick (τὸ κάμνοντα ἰατρεύεσθαι) and practising medicine and other money-making activities (ἰάτρευσίς τε καὶ ὁ ἄλλος χρηματισμός). These examples are normally assumed to be valuable for bodily fitness (or health), the restoration of good health, and monetary compensation respectively. Yet fitness and good health do not seem to be wages and neither do the processes that produce them depend on recognition. Thus, an objector will claim my reading of the division must be mistaken because it cannot possibly accommodate Glaucon’s examples of Kind-C Goods. It must be that the value Kind-C Goods possess because of the things that come from them derives—at least in some cases—from effects other than those that depend on social or divine recognition.²⁷

I grant that this is a serious objection. If I cannot respond to it, my interpretation of the division of goods and the trajectory of the argument that follows will be less plausible. My response is to bite the bullet and say that even these three goods are valued for benefits that depend on some sort of recognition. I argue that, according to the division of goods as articulated by Glaucon, undergoing athletic training is valuable for the sake of prizes and honours, undergoing medical treatment while sick is valuable for other recognitional rewards, such as making money or winning honour, and practising medicine is valuable for the salary and social esteem that doctors receive.

We begin with a methodological point. Glaucon twice uses the first-person plural while discussing the Kind-C Goods. He explains that ‘we’ choose to pursue these goods, despite the fact that doing so is difficult or painful, on account of the benefits to which they give rise. This reveals something about the thinking behind this classification. Like Adeimantus telling us about how other youths react to moral education, Glaucon is drawing on the experiences and practices of his contemporaries to articulate, characterise and categorise the value of particular goods. We have, in fact, seen a clear example of this methodological practice already. In response to Socrates’ claim that justice is a Kind-B Good, Glaucon counters that it is a Kind-C Good by appealing to what the many think and, in particular, by highlighting the recognitional rewards that they take to be the fruit of justice’s labour. To understand the value that Glaucon ascribes to athletic training, receiving medical treatment while sick or practising medicine and other money-making activities, we should be asking ourselves why he and his contemporaries would engage in these practices.

Let us begin with the least troubling example, ‘practising medicine as well as the other money-making activities’. Glaucon clearly does not think his contemporaries value practising medicine for itself. The activities involved in treating others were often uncomfortable and hazardous.²⁸ And although restoring a patient’s health was no doubt recognised as beneficial for the patient and society more generally, this did not automatically make the activity good for the doctor. So why did doctors practise medicine? The mention of the other money-making activities—which is almost epexegetic of practising medicine—indicates how Glaucon would answer this question. Doctors practise medicine in order to get paid. Non-Platonic texts suggest that Glaucon is correct in assuming money is what doctors were really after,²⁹ though, to be sure, certain doctors may also have desired social prestige and authority among their peers.³⁰ Presumably this was true for all the crafts. One person became a housebuilder to earn a salary and another entered politics because they desired to win honour. In each case, the activities are valued for the wages and esteem that come from them. And, of course, as we have seen above, wages are only paid once the relevant work is recognised as having been completed.

I turn now to athletic training (τὸ γυμνάζεσθαι). Although Socrates knows that athletic training produces strong bodies, in Book III he indicates that the purpose of such training, especially when combined with musical education, is to train the soul and improve its overall condition (410b–412a). It is very unlikely that Glaucon included the example of athletic training on the philosophically loaded assumption that its beneficial effects include a properly attuned soul. He must, then, disagree with Socrates’ assessment of the good-making feature of athletic training.³¹ So, why did Glaucon think it was valuable? I suggest that he and his contemporaries practised and valued such training for the prizes and rewards that could be won from athletic competitions. Evidence from elsewhere in Plato’s dialogues suggests that athletic training served two broad functions: training children in general physical education (which would have included basic training for war) and, more particularly, preparing youths for athletic competition.³² This is also suggested by what we know about ancient athletic trainers.³³ There was also a vivid, felt connection with athletic competitions and prizes because ‘etymologically and historically, “athletics” presupposed prizes (ἆθλα) and “prize-givers” (ἀθλοθέται). In short, Greeks could not imagine life without athletics, nor athletics without prizes.’³⁴ As one authority here suggests, the connection between athletics and prizes was so intimate that it was embedded in language itself.

There can be no doubt that the quest for prizes led many people to the training grounds. In a passage from Statesman, which appears to represent a historical truth rather than Plato’s idiosyncratic views about athletics, the visitor from Elea talks to Young Socrates about the reasons why elite citizens would have trained under experts (294d3–8):

[V] Aren’t there also among your people the sort of training of large groups that there are in other cities—either for racing or anything else—and this for the sake of love of victory (φιλονικίας ἕνεκα)?

[YS] Indeed, there are very many.

[V] Come now and let us call back to mind the orders of the expert athletic trainers (τὰς τῶν τέχνῃ γυμναζόντων ἐπιτάξεις) in these circumstances.

Training is here said to be ‘for the sake of the love of victory’. ἕνεκα is, of course, one of the prepositions used in Glaucon’s division of goods to indicate the reason or end on account of which certain practices or possessions are valued. In this passage it identifies the goal that makes the otherwise onerous practice of athletic training worthwhile. Because those who train do so on account of their love of victory, if asked they would presumably claim that they do not value the training itself or even the bodily fitness it produces. Rather, they would claim to value victory in athletic competitions as well as the prizes, honour and glory that attend such victories. This is highly revealing. Glaucon is operating with the background understanding—surprising to us, perhaps, but natural to his contemporaries—that one trains for the sake of the prizes and honours that could be won through competition. This is why he can so casually offer the example of athletic training and trust his interlocutors to understand that its value derives from the prizes offered at athletic competitions and the great honour the bearer of these prizes could boast.

We turn now to the final example, being treated while sick (τὸ κάμνοντα ἰατρεύεσθαι). Can it be that Glaucon offered medical treatment as valuable for effects that are mediated through the recognition of others rather than the restoration of good health? This strikes me as not at all implausible. It is a fact of everyday life that those who are sick are often unable to act in the ways needed to accomplish their goals. If these goals depend on recognition, as they so often do (just think of the singer addicted to the adoration of the crowd or the athlete craving the podium), these individuals will value medical treatment because it facilitates those goals. It is something of a platitude that much of Greek life revolved around glory and reputation. Consider the famous Greek heroes at war. In the pursuit of revenge and glory, Achilles sacrifices health and life, thinking that neither is worth much on its own; Ajax chooses to kill himself rather than live in dishonour. The Greeks frequently pledged allegiance to the ideal of disregarding their own safety and health in battle to win the rewards of honour and fame. And this was clearly regarded as a noble way to comport oneself.³⁵ Perhaps because of the relatively low premium placed upon health itself, we see Greek heroes hoping to be healed not for the sake of health but for glory. In the Iliad Glaucus, for example, asks Apollo to heal him so that he may rally in defence of Sarpedon’s armour, a great prize of war. Glaucus’ monologue is perfectly unambiguous. The hero does not want to be healed for the sake of health but so that he may rejoin the battle and defend his honour (Il. 16.514–29).³⁶

These examples suggest that warriors could desire medical intervention for the sake of rewards that derive from recognition instead of health. We possess other texts indicating that the same was true for Glaucon’s contemporaries as well. In Xenophon’s Oeconomicus Socrates’ aristocratic interlocutor, Ischomachus, doubts that the value of health can be understood absent the wartime behaviour and personal enrichment that it helps to facilitate. Indeed, Ischomachus claims that noble behaviour and the acquisition of wealth follows (ἀκόλουθα) from, among other things, health and that health is desirable for this reason (11.12).³⁷ Similarly, at Republic 406d1–e3 we learn that poor manual labourers demand expedient courses of treatment because they have no time for a prolonged recovery. Though the rich have the leisure for lengthy treatments, most people want to return to their employment in a timely fashion so that they might receive their wages, win the social prestige associated with good work and avoid the obloquy that follows from being perceived as lazy.

Although by no means uncontroversial, thinking about medical treatment along these lines is intuitive. We certainly do value our body insofar as it helps us pursue goals, and should certain goals be sufficiently salient in our motivations we might well conceive of medical treatment as no more than one step in the pursuit of fortune or fame. I suggest that this is how Glaucon thinks of medical treatment when he introduces it as an example of a Kind-C Good. He comes from an aristocratic family who could easily regard proper bodily functioning as a means to pursuing glory or wealth, and he recognises that the less well-off members of Greek society value medical treatment so that they can earn wages and win their own modicum of social esteem.³⁸

I do not insist that the preceding is correct in every detail. Although Republic offers an extended discussion of justice that clearly indicates that the value it possesses because of the things that come from it depends on the recognition of others, it contains very little discussion regarding the other Kind-C Goods. Glaucon says virtually nothing about undergoing athletic training, receiving medical treatment while sick or practising medicine. As a result, we are unfortunately not in a position to know exactly what he thought about them. But the argument of this chapter does not depend on my precise interpretation of these three examples being correct. The real force of my argument comes from the analysis of the brothers’ challenge along with our reconstruction of the 5th-century debate presented earlier. My purpose here has been to respond to the objection that my argument fails because it cannot accommodate the examples of Kind-C Goods given by Glaucon. To respond to this objection, it is sufficient to show that there is a plausible interpretation such that these examples are valuable for effects mediated through the recognition of other agents.

We have now seen that there is no compelling textual or philosophical basis to reject the interpretation of the dialogue sketched in the first part of this chapter. This is true even if we restrict ourselves to the division of goods, which has long been the central piece of evidence adduced by proponents of the dominant interpretation. Nothing in this division indicates that the value justice possesses all on its own is equivalent to the value it possesses independently of its causal effects. And, as we have just seen, nothing forces us to understand the value it possesses because of the things that arise from it as deriving from any and all its causal effects. Of course, the preceding discussion has not shown that the interpretation sketched earlier is correct. What it shows is that we have no reason to doubt the expectations Glaucon and Adeimantus’ challenge gives us about how the argument of the dialogue will unfold. The purpose of the current section is to briefly discuss the trajectory of the central defence of justice in Republic. We will find not only that Socrates understands his job to be demonstrating that justice is valuable by showing that it contributes to the just agent’s prospering even if their justice is never recognised, but also that he and the other interlocutors agree that he has done exactly that by the dialogue’s end. That is to say, we shall see that Socrates argues exactly as we would expect him to given our analysis of the failures of the past Friends as well as our historically informed reading of the brothers’ challenge.

Let us return to where we left off before turning to the division of goods. The closing lines of Glaucon and Adeimantus’ challenge run as follows: ‘Don’t only show us in the abstract that justice is stronger than injustice, but [show], too, what each because of itself makes the one possessing it—the one that it is bad, the other that it is good, whether it escapes the notice of the gods and other humans or not’ (367e1–4). I have italicised this final qualification because it becomes synonymous with the appropriate sort of praise of justice in the remainder of the dialogue. Adeimantus is here asking Socrates to demonstrate the value justice possesses all on its own, and he tells him to do this by showing that it contributes to the prospering of the just individual even if the justice of that individual goes unnoticed by gods and other humans. And, of course, Socrates rises to the challenge. His defence of justice begins immediately with the introduction of the city–soul analogy and the project of founding a city in speech, which apparently helps the investigation into the nature of justice run more expeditiously. Then, once the city has finally been successfully founded and the discussion turns to the soul in Book IV, everyone is given a reminder about what still needs to be done, and the interlocutors are told to look at the soul for (427d2–7):

Whether somehow we might see wherever justice and injustice are, how they differ from one another, and which the one who is going to be prosperous ought to possess, whether or not they escape the notice of all the gods and humans.

Strikingly, Socrates adopts the language earlier used by Adeimantus. He has picked up on the brothers’ way of framing the philosophical issues surrounding justice. Indeed, he has incorporated this framing into his own argument. And in this passage he states explicitly and unambiguously that he plans to consider the contribution justice makes to human prospering by excluding any and all benefits associated with being recognised as just by the gods or other people.

A similar statement is made by Socrates later in Book IV once he and the interlocutors have found where justice and injustice are in the soul. With this crucial information in hand, he pauses to explain what has been accomplished and what now remains to be done. Everyone must now consider whether justice or injustice will make the individual more prosperous (444e6–445a4):

The remaining thing, then, as is likely, is for us to return to investigate whether doing just things, practising fine ones, and being just is profitable—if one goes unnoticed or not as such a person—or if practising injustice and being unjust is—if one doesn’t pay for it or, by being punished, becomes better.

These two texts offer clear indications about how Socrates understands his own argument to be progressing in Republic. They also function as signposts that Plato uses to signal to the reader about what will follow. And they lead us to believe that what will follow is a demonstration that justice is good for human beings even if it is never recognised by any god or other human. Note that Socrates says nothing about excluding any other effects of justice during his praise of it.

To be sure, these claims are all provisional. It is only after Book IV and the discovery of the nature of justice that the investigation turns to the value of justice.³⁹ Moreover, the path this investigation takes is winding, and the argument ultimately given in defence of justice’s value is complex. I pass over the details of that argument here. Its logic and structure are considered in Chapter 7. In any case, I concede that there is only so much we can make of Socrates’ early claims about what he plans to do. Fortunately, Socrates will later indicate what he takes himself to have accomplished when he offers a retrospective analysis of what his central argument has shown. So now we must ask: does Socrates’ defence of justice function by showing that justice contributes to prospering whether or not it is noticed by other agents? Or does he show justice is valuable in some other way—perhaps in the way proponents of the No-Effects interpretation suggest? We find a clear answer to these questions in Book IX. Consider the exchange Socrates has with Glaucon after the former completes his principal argument in defence of justice and its value (580b8–c8):

[S] Should we hire a herald then or shall I myself announce that the son of Ariston judged the best and most just person to be most prosperous—the one who is most kingly and king over themselves—and the worst and most unjust person to be most miserable—the one who happens to be most tyrannical and is most of all a tyrant over themselves and their city?

[G] Let it be announced.

[S] Then should I announce it whether or not they escape the notice of all humans and gods as being such?

[G] Announce it.

This text reveals that by midway through Book IX Socrates takes himself to have shown that the most just person is the most prosperous person, whereas the most unjust person is the most miserable. And, crucially, it emphasises that this is true even if the just agent has gone unnoticed as being just and, therefore, has not received any of the wages and reputations associated with justice. Socrates takes himself to have accomplished the task Adeimantus set for him at 367b3–e4.

I believe that these last four texts are enough to make my point. But for good measure, let us look at one more passage. Midway through Book X, after a second discussion of poetry and its place in the well-run city, Socrates makes the following telling retrospective claim (612c7–d2):

I gave to you the just person seeming-to-be-unjust (τὸν δίκαιον δοκεῖν ἄδικον εἶναι) and the unjust person seeming-to-be-just (τὸν ἄδικον δίκαιον). For you were claiming that, even if it would not be possible for such things to escape the notice of gods and humans, nevertheless this needed to be granted so that justice itself could be compared to injustice itself.

This passage is significant for a number of reasons. In the first place, it recalls Glaucon’s methodological statement at 361c1–5 advising that Socrates remove the ‘seeming’ of justice from the just individual in order to evaluate the contribution justice itself makes to the prosperous human life. It thereby confirms that Socrates takes himself to have completed the task set for him earlier by the brothers. But much more importantly than this, the passage also explicitly connects the project of taking away the just individual’s appearance of justice with the project of praising justice itself or all on its own. That is to say, it confirms that the appropriate way to demonstrate that justice is valuable is by demonstrating that it contributes to the prospering of the just individual even if that individual is never seen as just and their virtue is never responded to by other agents.

It should now be abundantly clear that our initial suspicions about what it means to show that justice is valuable all on its own were correct. There is no good reason to think that showing that justice is valuable all on its own is somehow equivalent to showing that justice is intrinsically valuable, or valuable independently of all its causal effects. All the same, we should briefly look at what the remainder of Republic has to tell us about the value that justice possesses because of the things that come from it. Is this value wholly dependent on the recognition of others, as I have been insisting throughout? Yes, it is. Consider the following passage in which Socrates transitions from praising justice itself to praising it for the things that come to be from it (612a8–c2):

[S] Haven’t we done away with the other things in the argument and praised neither the wages nor the reputation of justice (οὐ τοὺς μισθοὺς οὐδὲ τὰς δόξας δικαιοσύνης), as you said Homer and Hesiod did? And haven’t we found that justice itself (αὐτὸ δικαιοσύνην) is the best thing for the soul itself and that the soul should do just things …?

[G] We have. That’s most true.

[S] Well then, Glaucon, can there now be any objection to, beyond these things, returning the wages (τοὺς μισθούς)—the full number and kind furnished for the soul both from people and gods—to justice and the rest of virtue …?

Note that the wages here seem to be equated to the things the just agent gets from gods and people.

But what, exactly, are the wages of justice discussed in Book X? The answer is exactly what we would expect given our reading of Glaucon and Adeimantus’ challenge in Book II. They all depend on recognition of or a reputation for being just. This is a point emphasised by the text time and time again. These wages are, Socrates says, procured through seeming and given to those who have justice (ἀπὸ τοῦ δοκεῖν κτωμένη ἃ δίδωσι τοῖς ἔχουσιν αὐτήν, 612d7–8). And over the course of the next Stephanus Page, we are told in no fewer than three places that the justice of the just individual will ultimately be recognised by the gods and other people (612e2–3, 613b2–6 and 613c5–7). This is why Socrates makes such a big deal of virtuous agents evincing their virtue for a protracted period of time. Even if one’s justice goes unrecognised at first, over the course of an entire life it will be noticed and rewarded (613c9–e3). A similar point is made about the afterlife as well. Our dearly departed souls are judged in the court of the dead and receive rewards or punishments for their earthly behaviour. With signs of all they have done branded on their backs, the souls convicted of vice are sent away for a millennium of torture. Those found to be virtuous mount their judgements proudly on their chest and spend an equal amount of time in heavenly delights (614a–615c). The documents attached to the just souls not only lay bare their moral characters for all to see. They also literally display their sentences and the rewards of which they have been found worthy. Even in death one’s justice is recognised and rewarded by the gods.⁴⁰

I take all this to show that the dominant interpretation of the division of goods and the argument that follows cannot be correct. Our historically informed reading of the brothers’ challenge and the argument that follows does a much better job of capturing the force of the dialogue’s central claims. However, before moving on it is worth pausing to ask whether, once we have rejected the idea that Plato attempts to show that justice is both intrinsically and instrumentally valuable, there is some other fundamental distinction lying behind the two types of value he ascribed to justice in Republic. The answer is, unsurprisingly, yes. As Book X helps us to see, it is much more accurate to think of the two types of value ascribed to justice as the value coming from the reality of justice, on the one hand, and its appearance, on the other. That is to say, we would do much better to think of the famous Platonic distinction between appearance and reality or seeming and being than the modern distinction between intrinsic and instrumental value. Plato has Socrates say in so many words that the reality of justice and its appearance is valuable. And he clearly expects his interlocutors to understand that the value of justice’s reality and appearance correspond to the value that it possesses all on its own and because of the things that come from it. Thus 612d4–10:

Well, since [justice and injustice] have been judged, on behalf of justice I demand back the reputation it holds from gods and humans; and [I ask that] we agree justice is so reputed that it also gives to those who possess it the prizes it procures from its seeming (ἀπὸ τοῦ δοκεῖν), since indeed it is clear that it gives good things from its being (τὰ ἀπὸ τοῦ εἶναι ἀγαθὰ).

This passage is part of Socrates’ transition to the discussion of the wages and reputations of justice. He takes himself already to have shown in Books II–IX that justice gives good things from its being to those who possess justice. All that remains to be shown in Book X is that the just individual procures good things from the seeming or appearance of justice as well.

We are now in a position to state some conclusions about the influence of the sophistic debate on the central argument of Republic. Let us begin with a quick recap. After raising the question of what justice is in Book I, Socrates is drawn into a heated discussion about its value with the sophist Thrasymachus. Though this discussion arrives at no satisfactory conclusion, it sets the stage for the remainder of the dialogue by reorienting the investigation towards the question of whether justice or injustice makes a greater contribution to human prospering. In Book II Glaucon and Adeimantus rehabilitate the Thrasymachean view that injustice is profitable and prudent in order to goad Socrates to offer a more complete defence of justice and its value. In making their case the brothers claim to be drawing inspiration from, and are in fact partially reconstructing, one side of an existing debate. This debate appears to be the 5th-century sophistic debate about justice, and this is confirmed by the fact that the theoretical core of the brothers’ challenge bears striking substantive and methodological similarities to the ideas and texts discussed earlier in this book. Even the one novel feature of the brothers’ challenge is, we have seen, introduced in order to seize upon and expose a theoretical weakness in the arguments of the 5th-century Friends of Justice.

Part I of this book suggests that the brothers’ criticism of past moralists is a fair one. Sophists such as Prodicus and the author of AI really did make the wages and reputations of virtue central to their defences of justice and its place in the prosperous human life. Plato evidently realised (even if no critics in the 5th century had) that this left their arguments unable to effectively respond to the Moral Cynics and their dangerous suggestion that the life of calculated injustice is more profitable and prudent than the just life. Moreover, if we were right to hear his authorial voice behind Adeimantus’ Diagnosis, then he also believed that the inability of moralists to argue effectively against the past Cynics was a cause of serious social woes in Athens. As I suggested above, this is why Plato has Glaucon and Adeimantus urge Socrates to make a new and better defence of justice and its value. And it is surely why they do so while openly lamenting past moralists and demanding of Socrates that he reject their argumentative strategies. Recall again: ‘Of all of you who claim to be praisers of justice—beginning with the heroes of old whose arguments survive, up to the people of today—no one has yet blamed injustice nor praised justice aside from the reputations, honours and gifts that come to be from them’ (366d7–e5).

All this is the crucial background to the distinction between the value justice possesses all on its own and the value it possesses because of the things that come from it, and, indeed, for the central argument of Republic. When Glaucon first announces that he desires ‘to hear what each [sc. justice and injustice] is and what power each has all on its own in the soul’ and further urges Socrates to ‘forget about the wages and the things that come to be from them’ (358b4–7), he is attempting to stop Socrates from discussing the value of justice in the way that his predecessors had. He is also gesturing towards a new kind of argument showing that justice is profitable and prudent. The same point is being made in the closing lines of the brothers’ challenge, where Adeimantus tells Socrates to forget about the wages and reputations of justice and instead explain what justice itself makes the just individual. The failures of the past moralists and their unsatisfying attempts to defend justice animate the brothers throughout. Even at 612a8–c3—almost the very end of the work—Socrates takes pains to remind us about Homer and Hesiod, as well as Glaucon and Adeimantus’ negative evaluation of their strategies for defending justice and its value. It would be difficult to overstate the extent to which Plato’s analysis of the earlier debate about justice shapes the trajectory of Republic. Having recognised the failures of the past moralists and that the debate about justice remained unresolved, he aimed to refute the view of the Cynics and show that justice is, all things considered, the most profitable and prudent way to live. In so doing, he aimed to complete the project Hesiod began centuries before when he canonised the Traditional View of Justice.⁴¹