The Republic a guided tour

A walk back from the harbor turns into a long evening, and ten books of conversation about what justice actually is — in a person, and in a city.

The book in brief

The Republic is the most influential book of political philosophy ever written. It is also a conversation. Socrates has gone down to the Piraeus, the harbor town outside Athens, for a torchlight festival. On the way back he is detained, almost forcibly, by a group of friends who want to talk. The talk runs all night.

What begins as an ordinary question — what is justice? — turns, by Book Two, into something much larger. To understand justice in a single person, Socrates suggests they imagine it on a bigger scale, in a city. They build the city in speech, watch it grow corrupt, classify the kinds of human soul that match each kind of regime, and arrive, somewhere around Book Seven, at the most famous image in Western philosophy: a cave with prisoners chained to face the wall, mistaking shadows for the world. Then they descend back through the kinds of decline a city goes through, the kinds of person each decline produces, and end with a myth about the soul after death.

The Republic, chapter by chapter

Click through the 10 chapters like a tour. Each card picks up where the last left off — a quick way to read The Republic in five minutes. Open any book in depth, or jump straight into the reader.

Book 1 of 10
Book 1

Three definitions of justice, broken

Socrates has gone down to the Piraeus with Glaucon for the festival of a Thracian goddess. On the way back, Polemarchus and his friends practically order them to stay for the evening. At Polemarchus's house they find old Cephalus, who offers the first definition of justice: paying your debts and telling the truth. Polemarchus inherits the conversation and refines it: helping friends, harming enemies. Then Thrasymachus loses his patience and breaks in with the cynical answer he has been holding back: justice is whatever the strong say it is. Socrates takes all three apart by sundown. Book One ends without a definition.

Book 2

The ring of Gyges

Glaucon is dissatisfied with the way Thrasymachus was beaten. He wants Socrates to prove justice is good in itself, not just for its rewards. He retells the myth of the ring of Gyges — a shepherd who finds a ring that makes him invisible and immediately uses it to seduce the queen and kill the king. Would the just person, given the same ring, behave differently? Adeimantus extends the challenge. Socrates accepts. To answer it, he proposes building a city in speech — because justice will be larger and easier to see in a city than in a single soul. They begin with the simplest village and watch it grow into a polis with classes, an army, and the question of how to educate its guardians.

Book 3

The education of the guardians

The guardians of the city must be trained carefully. They will need courage and gentleness in the right proportions — fierce to enemies, gentle to their own. Socrates argues that the stories they grow up on shape the soul, and so the stories must be censored. Homer, as he stands, will not do: gods who lie, heroes who weep, the underworld presented as terrifying — all of it teaches the wrong reflexes. Music and gymnastics together form the right kind of person. By the end of the book Socrates introduces the "noble lie": a myth the guardians will be told about their origins, to bind them to the city.

Book 4

Justice found

The city has its three classes: rulers, auxiliaries (soldiers), and producers (everyone else). Socrates argues that the four cardinal virtues are visible in it. Wisdom is in the rulers, courage in the soldiers, moderation in the agreement between all classes — and justice is the principle that makes the others possible: each class doing its proper work, none overreaching. He then turns inward. The soul has the same three parts: reason, spirit, appetite. Justice in a soul is the same as justice in a city — the right ordering, each part doing its proper work. The dialogue's central thesis is now in place.

Book 5

The philosopher-king

Socrates is challenged on a small point and ends up presenting three radical claims, each of which he calls a "wave" he must swim through without drowning. First wave: the female guardians must be trained alongside the men, in the same way, and serve in the same roles. Second wave: marriage and the family, for guardians, must be abolished — children held in common, parents not knowing their offspring, the loyalty of the household replaced by loyalty to the city. Third wave, the most difficult: cities will not be just until kings are philosophers, or philosophers are kings. He says it knowing the reaction will be derision.

Book 6

The divided line

Socrates defines the philosopher: someone who loves truth more than money, honor, or pleasure; who studies what is unchanging rather than what merely seems. Adeimantus objects that real philosophers are useless or vicious. Socrates answers with two long images. The ship-of-fools: a crew that has tied up the only person who knows how to navigate, calling him a stargazer while they fight over the rudder. The divided line: a vertical scale of knowledge with shadows at the bottom and the Forms at the top, each level more real and more knowable than the one below. The Form of the Good is the source of intelligibility — the sun of the visible world.

Book 7

The cave

Socrates illustrates the climb described in Book Six with an image that has shaped two thousand years of thought. Imagine prisoners chained from birth to face the back wall of a cave. Behind them, a fire burns; people walk past carrying objects whose shadows fall on the wall. The prisoners take the shadows for reality. One is freed and dragged up out of the cave into the sunlight, where the real objects are. The first sight of the sun nearly blinds him. Eventually he sees clearly. Then — and this is Plato's argument for the philosopher's duty — he comes back down. The prisoners do not believe him. They will not be freed by anyone telling them what is true. They have to climb out themselves.

Book 8

The four falls

Socrates returns from the heights to political analysis. Even the just city, he says, will eventually decline — and there are exactly four ways it can fall. First into timocracy (rule by honor, the city of soldiers and ambition). Then into oligarchy (rule by money). Then into democracy (rule by appetite, by no one in particular, by everyone equally). And finally into tyranny — the worst regime, produced by democracy's excess of freedom. For each city Socrates describes the kind of person it produces: the timocratic man, the oligarchic, the democratic, the tyrannical. The descriptions are sharp and not always flattering.

Book 9

The tyrant

Socrates completes the descent. The tyrant is the man who, in democracy, promised everything — and once installed, takes everything. His soul is the most disordered of all: ruled by appetite, terrified of betrayal, unable to trust anyone, at war with his own household and his own thoughts. Socrates argues, against three increasingly elaborate measures, that the tyrant is the most miserable of all men, and the just person the happiest — even if the just person is reviled and the tyrant honored. This is at last the answer to the ring of Gyges. The just life is good in itself, because justice is the order of a soul, and order is happiness.

Book 10

The myth of Er

Two more arguments before the dialogue ends. First, poetry: Socrates returns to the question he raised in Book Three and goes further. The poets imitate appearances; they train us to feel what we should not feel; they corrupt the soul. They must be banished from the just city. Then the dialogue closes with myth. Er is a soldier killed in battle who comes back from the dead and tells what he saw: souls choosing their next lives, wise old souls choosing wretched lives because they are tired, foolish young souls choosing tyranny because it looks splendid from the outside. The choice we make matters. We should choose well. The Republic ends.

Key themes

5 threads that hold the book together. Full analysis →

Justice — in the soul and in the city

The Republic begins by asking what justice is and never quite stops. Socrates argues that justice is the right ordering of the parts of a soul or a city — each part doing its proper work, none overreaching.

The philosopher-king

In Book Five Socrates lets fall the most provocative claim in the dialogue: cities will only be just when philosophers rule them. He is well aware no one wants this, including the philosophers.

The cave, the divided line, the Forms

Books Six and Seven contain the dialogue's metaphysical core: the divided line, the analogy of the sun, and the allegory of the cave. The arguments these images make have shaped two thousand years of thought.

The quarrel with poetry

The Republic ends by banishing the poets. Socrates is not joking. Poetry corrupts the soul, he argues, by training us to feel what we should not feel. The argument is uncomfortable, and the dialogue knows it.

The decline of regimes

In Books Eight and Nine, Socrates sketches the four ways a just city decays: into timocracy (rule by honor), oligarchy (rule by money), democracy (rule by appetite), and tyranny. Each regime corresponds to a kind of soul.

Key figures

The 6 who matter most. More in the full character guide.

Socrates
The questioner

The narrator and primary speaker. Plato's Socrates is older here than in many earlier dialogues — patient, willing to spend a whole night on the question, sharp without cruelty. He drives the argument by asking, not by lecturing.

Glaucon
Plato's brother

One of Plato's two older brothers, and the chief interlocutor for most of the dialogue. He raises the ring-of-Gyges challenge in Book Two and stays sharp throughout. Without Glaucon, Socrates would be talking to himself.

Adeimantus
Plato's other brother

Glaucon's quieter brother, who tends to take over when the conversation gets practical (the education of the guardians, the role of poetry). He is the more skeptical of the two.

Thrasymachus
The sophist

A teacher of rhetoric. He bursts in on the dialogue in Book One with the cynical claim that justice is whatever serves the strong. He loses his patience with Socrates, then loses the argument, and is gradually domesticated into the conversation.

Polemarchus
The host

Son of Cephalus, in whose house the dialogue takes place. He inherits the conversation when his father leaves and offers the second definition of justice — helping friends, harming enemies — which Socrates takes apart in twenty minutes.

Cephalus
The old man

Polemarchus's elderly father, who opens the dialogue with the easy answer that justice is paying your debts. He leaves to attend a sacrifice before things get hard. He is the only character whose absence changes the dialogue's whole atmosphere.

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