THE ALLEGORY OF THE CAVE. By Plato

Transcription

1 THE ALLEGORY OF THE CAVE By Plato

2 Plato, BC 1

3 From the Republic Book VII Socrates: Let me offer an image of human nature in its being educated or enlightened and its being uneducated or unenlightened. I shall liken it to a condition of the following kind: Behold! Human beings living from birth to death in an underground cave! The cave has long entrance, which opens to the daylight outside. These humans have been in this cave from childhood. Their legs and necks are chained so that they cannot move. Thus, they can only look at what is immediately in front of them the cave wall being prevented by the chains from turning their heads even a little. Now, above and behind these prisoners there is a fire blazing at a distance. And between the prisoners and the fire is a raised road-way. And more, a low wall has been built along the road-way, like the screen which puppeteers have in front of them, over which they show an audience their puppets. 2

4 Glaucon: I see. Socrates: Then imagine also that along this wall there are other human beings, passersby, who carry with them all manner of objects and artifacts: vessels, and statues of men, and figures of animals made of wood and stone, and various other materials, all of which appear above the wall as so many puppets. And as would be expected, some of these travelers in the cave utter sounds as they pass by while others remain silent. Glaucon: It is a strange image and very strange prisoners indeed that you are showing to me, Socrates. Socrates: But they are just like us, Glaucon. Tell me, do you suppose that these prisoners could see anything of themselves or their fellow prisoners? Or would they see only the shadows of themselves and the shadows of their fellows, which are cast by the fire onto the opposite side of the cave facing them? Glaucon: They could see only the shadows! Socrates: And what about the various objects which are being carried along the road-way by the travelers behind them? Would it also be the case that they could only see the shadows of those objects? Glaucon: Yes, only the shadows. Socrates: And how would the prisoners spend their time, if they were able to discuss things with one another. Would they not assume that the shadows were the real things, and wouldn t they give names to those shadows, taking them to be real? Glaucon: Yes, indeed they would. Socrates: Now suppose further that this cave produced an echo which came from the side facing the prisoners. Would not the 3

5 prisoners believe that when one of the passers-by spoke, that the voice which they heard came from the passing shadows in front of them? Glaucon: No question. They would believe the voice originated from the shadow on the wall in front of them, because it appeared to originate from there. Socrates: Certainly, such men as these would hold that the truth is nothing other than the shadows of artificial things. Glaucon: Most definitely, Socrates. Socrates: Now let s imagine what would naturally follow if such men were released from their bondage and cured from their delusions. For instance, say one man is let loose. He is forced suddenly to stand, turn his neck around, and then escorted toward the fire. Certainly, all of these actions would cause much pain. And the glow from the fire would itself be intense dazzling and disorienting him. He would be too distressed to see properly the objects of which he used to see only the shadows. What do you suppose this person would say if someone were to tell him that everything he had seen before on the cave wall was mere illusion, so much empty nonsense? What if the prisoner were told that he is now nearer to reality and seeing more clearly, precisely because he has now been turned toward things that are more real what might be the liberated prisoner s reply? Now further imagine that his instructor is pointing to the objects as they are carried by and requiring the freed prisoner to name them. But because of the disorienting glare of the flame, will he not be perplexed and, being in a state of shock, unable to name them? Will he not still imagine that the shadows which he formerly saw, which were so familiar, are truer and more real than the objects which are now shown to him? 4

6 Glaucon: Yes, he would incorrectly believe that what he formerly saw was truer than the objects he is now being shown. Socrates: And if his instructor forced him to look straight at the light, will the freed prisoner not have pain in his eyes, compelling him to look away? Indeed, will he not try to flee back to those earlier things which he is able to see and make sense of? Glaucon: Truly, this is how the distressed prisoner would respond. Socrates: And suppose next that his liberator dragged him by force away from the fire, dragged him upward along the steep, rugged ascent, dragged him right up to the mouth of the cave, and held him directly into the coming sunlight. Imagine the freed prisoner s agitation now. Wouldn t he be beyond distressed? And when his eyes absorb the light, full of sun-beam for the first time in his life, wouldn t he be so overwhelmed by the glare of it all that he would be as good as blind not even able to see a single one of those statues behind him that he was just told were real? Glaucon: He wouldn t be able to see them at all, at least not right away. Socrates: Then I suppose that he would have to grow quite accustomed to this disoriented, aggravated state, provided that he dares to venture further from the mouth of the cave and explore the new surroundings outside the cave. And once outside of the cave if he does venture further first he would find it easiest to look merely at the shadows of things; after a time, then the reflections of people and other objects in the water; and only later could he clearly look upon things themselves. And after that, he would find it easier to observe the heavenly bodies and the sky itself only during the night. And so he could look at the light of the moon and the stars rather than at the sun and its light by day. 5

7 Glaucon: Certainly. Socrates: Thus, the very last thing the freed prisoner would be able look at would be the sun itself and gaze at it without relying on its reflection in water or any other medium, but as it is in itself. Glaucon: Necessarily, Socrates. Socrates: And after this he would already be in a position to conclude that the sun is the source of the seasons and the years, and is the steward of all things in the visible place, and is in a certain way even the cause of all those things he and his fellow prisoners used to see. Glaucon: Clearly, he would first see the sun and then he would be able to draw that conclusion. Socrates: And consider what he would think if he were to reflect back on his first home in the cave. When he considers what it was that passed for wisdom in that place, don t you suppose that he would consider himself quite happy for the change (even though it was accompanied by great distress) and feel sorry for those people still imprisoned in the cave? Glaucon: Certainly, he would be happier now and feel sorry for those still in the cave, Socrates: And think on this, Glaucon. In the cave, among the captives, there was probably much honor and praise bestowed upon those prisoners who were the cleverest at making out the shadows on the wall and who could best remember their order and sequence so as to correctly predict their future appearances. Now, would our freed prisoner desire those praises and honors? In your opinion, Glaucon, would he be at all jealous of the prisoner most honored among prisoners? Would he be jealous of the prisoner who held the most power among prisoners? Or would he say, along with Homer, that he would rather be a serf in the house 6

8 of some landless man, or indeed anything else in the world, than hold the opinions they hold and live the life that they do? Better to be the poor servant of a poor master, and to endure anything, rather than think as they do and live in their fashion. Glaucon: Yes, I think that he would prefer anything over having to live a life like theirs. He would rather suffer anything than entertain their false notions and live in their miserable, ignorant manner. Socrates: Now, Glaucon, consider what would happen if he went back down into the cave to free his comrades, taking back his old seat among the prisoners? Wouldn t his eyes be blinded by the darkness, because he had come in suddenly out of the sunlight and into the dark? Glaucon: To be sure. Socrates: And imagine that while he was still blind and before his eyes could again grow used to the darkness a process that would take considerable time imagine that he had to once again form judgments about the shadows on the cave wall, perhaps in some sort of a competition with the other prisoners. Wouldn t he be likely to make a fool out of himself? Being unadjusted to the darkness of the cave, wouldn t he appear ridiculous and be the source of great laugher among the prisoners? Glaucon: Yes, yes, Socrates. He would appear laughable a silly fool. Socrates: The prisoners would laugh and say: Well, up he went with his eyes but down he came without them! But those prisoners wouldn t see him just as a silly fool, Glaucon. They would perceive him as a dangerous fool. They would believe that visiting the upper world had corrupted his sight and ruined his 7

9 eyes. They would therefore think it better not to ascend from the cave. And if there was a person who was set on releasing them from their prison and compelling them upwards well, they would kill this person if they could get their hands on them, so violent a form their ignorance would take. Glaucon: No question. They would do just that. Socrates: Moreover, those who ascend from the cave and attain this blissful vision, doesn t it make sense that they would be unwilling to descend, unwilling to engage in human affairs? For their souls are ever eager to spend time in the upper world. This new desire would be very natural, if our allegory may be trusted. Glaucon: Yes, a very natural desire. Socrates: Nor should we think it strange that there would be much clumsiness and blundering for anyone who descends from this blissful realm and returns to human life with all of its ills. Certainly, he would behave in a ridiculous manner. Now, imagine what also would happen on his returns to the cave. Still blinded and not yet accustomed to the surrounding darkness, imagine that he was forcibly put on trial and compelled to fight in the law-courts, or in other places, and forced to argue about the shadows of justice, or the mere shadows of the representations of justice. Imagine this person being made to dispute about the notions of justice held by people who had never seen justice itself. It would be anything but surprising if this person were to appear a fool. Glaucon: Anything but surprising. Socrates: Now, if a person were intelligent, she would remember that the disturbance of the eyes are of two kinds and arise from two causes: the disturbance that is produced either from coming out of the light and then going into the darkness or the disturbance caused by coming out of the darkness and going into the light. An 8

10 intelligent person would also recognize that these same things happen to the soul 1 also and so whenever they see a soul that is confused, weak, and unable to make anything out, they will not be very quick to laugh at this person. For they will reason about this person s confusion first and then go on to consider whether their soul has come out of the brighter light, and is unable to see because they are unaccustomed and disturbed by the dark or whether the confused person, having turned from darkness to the day, had been dazzled and confused by an excess of light. Of these two confused souls, the intelligent person will certainly count the second soul happier because of their state of being and they will pity the first soul. And if they happen to chuckle at the first soul, it would not be motivated by scorn, for this soul has already escaped from ignorance and come into the light. Glaucon: That is a very good distinction, Socrates. Socrates: Now, if I am right about all this, we must say the following about education. Education is not what certain professors assert it to be, when they say that they can put knowledge into the soul which was not there before, as though they were putting sight into blind eyes. Glaucon: But the experts in education undoubtedly say this. Socrates: Our argument, on the other hand, shows that the power and capacity of learning exists in the soul already, and that organ by which one learns is like an eye which cannot be turned form darkness to light unless the whole body is turned. In the same way, the soul as a whole must be turned away from the world of change the world of becoming and turned rather toward reality, the world of being. The soul must be able to endure looking at the brightest part of that which is. Glaucon: Indeed. 1 In Greek Psyche : mind, understanding, consciousness, reason. 9

11 Socrates: And must there not be some art of this turning around? This art would be most concerned with the way in which this power and capacity can most easily and efficiently be reoriented. This would not be an art of producing sight rather, this art takes as a given the fact that sight is already there but is merely turned in the wrong direction: the soul is not looking at what it ought to look at. This art that I am describing, Glaucon, it would be the art of turning the soul. Glaucon: Yes, Socrates. And such an art may be presumed to exist. The End Translators used: Alan Bloom, Desmond Lee, Benjamin Jowett 10

12 11