A ring with supernatural abilities
tempts its beholder with power. But there are no hobbits, dwarves,
or Valkyries in this tale. In fact, the legend of the Ring of Gyges
appeared long before those characters were ever committed to paper: more than 2,000 years ago, in the Greek philosopher Plato’s
“Republic.” The story surfaces as the philosopher,
Socrates, and his student, Glaucon,
discuss why people act justly. Is it because it’s what’s right? Or because it’s a convention that’s
enforced through punishment and reward? Playing devil’s advocate,
Glaucon argues against Socrates and recounts the following story... Long ago, a shepherd named Gyges
was tending his flock when an earthquake struck, ripping an opening to the ground. The chasm drew Gyges in. There, his eyes alighted
upon a bronze horse, the doors to its central chamber ajar. Peering inside, Gyges discovered
the corpse of a giant. On its finger, a golden ring, which Gyges pocketed
before retracing his steps. Later, he sat among the other shepherds, fiddling with the mysterious
ring when, suddenly, after absentmindedly twirling its stone,
he became invisible. When he turned the stone back in the
opposite direction, he reappeared. Emboldened by the ring’s powers,
new possibilities bloomed before him, and a sordid plan hatched in his mind. Gyges became a messenger
to the king of Lydia, and, inside the palace,
used the ring to prowl undetected. He seduced the queen and convinced
her to betray her husband. And soon Gyges, once a humble shepherd, had murdered the monarch
and claimed the kingdom. Glaucon tells this story to illustrate
how people can apparently benefit by acting unjustly. After all, wouldn’t any rational
person act like Gyges if presented the opportunity to get what
they desired without consequence? Exploring this argument, Glaucon breaks
all good things into three classes. The first kinds,
we desire for their own sake, like the experience of harmless pleasure. The second,
we want only for the value they bring, though they may be onerous,
like exercise or medicine. The third class comprises things
we desire for their own sake and the value they offer,
like knowledge and health. Glaucon argues that justice belongs
to the second class of good: it’s a burden that nevertheless
brings rewards. The only reason anyone conducts themselves
virtuously, he reasons, is due to external influences. So it’s appearing— not actually being—
virtuous that matters. Socrates, as written by Plato, disagrees, countering that justice belongs
to the third class of good, offering both
extrinsic and intrinsic benefits. Socrates argues that the human soul
has three parts: reason, spirit, and appetite. Reason guides an individual
to truth and knowledge, and is influenced by either
spirit or appetite. Spirit is righteous, ambitious,
and the source of bold action, while appetite consists
of baser, bodily desires. To Socrates, the philosopher
is led by reason, and their spirit keeps
their appetite in check, making them the most just
and the happiest. Even without consequences
for self-serving wrongdoings, they wouldn't commit them. Meanwhile, the tyrant succumbs
to appetite and acts unjustly. So, while Gyges may have attained
power and wealth, Socrates implies that his soul
would be in disharmony. He’d be enslaved to his own base desires
rather than guided by reason and wouldn't be truly happy. Before Plato penned this discussion, Chinese philosopher Confucius similarly
reasoned that by simply acting justly, one also benefits oneself. After, modern Western philosophers voiced
varying beliefs. Thomas Hobbes, for instance, argued that the state of nature
is violent and selfish. Justice, therefore,
is imposed by authority. John Locke, in contrast, asserted
that people are naturally obligated to act justly and they agree
to participate in civil society to secure their natural rights. The allegory of the ill-gotten
magical ring that lures its wearer towards their
darkest desires continues to inspire. So if the ring of Gyges
fell into your hands, what would you do?
