The Cave

An excerpt from Book vii of 'Plato's Republic' on the 'the cave':

 AND now, I said, let me show in a figure how far our nature is enlightened or unenlightened: --Behold! human beings living in a underground den, which has a mouth open towards the light and reaching all along the den; here they have been from their childhood, and have their legs and necks chained so that they cannot move, and can only see before them, being prevented by the chains from turning round their heads. Above and behind them a fire is blazing at a distance, and between the fire and the prisoners there is a raised way; and you will see, if you look, a low wall built along the way, like the screen which marionette players have in front of them, over which they show the puppets.

 I see.

  And do you see, I said, men passing along the wall carrying all sorts of vessels, and statues and figures of animals made of wood and stone and various materials, which appear over the wall? Some of them are talking, others silent.

 You have shown me a strange image, and they are strange prisoners.

  Like ourselves, I replied; and they see only their own shadows, or the shadows of one another, which the fire throws on the opposite wall of the cave?

  True, he said; how could they see anything but the shadows if they were never allowed to move their heads?

  And of the objects which are being carried in like manner they would only see the shadows?

  Yes, he said.

  And if they were able to converse with one another, would they not suppose that they were naming what was actually before them?

  Very true.

  And suppose further that the prison had an echo which came from the other side, would they not be sure to fancy when one of the passers-by spoke that the voice which they heard came from the passing shadow?

  No question, he replied.

  To them, I said, the truth would be literally nothing but the shadows of the images.

  That is certain.

  And now look again, and see what will naturally follow it' the prisoners are released and disabused of their error. At first, when any of them is liberated and compelled suddenly to stand up and turn his neck round and walk and look towards the light, he will suffer sharp pains; the glare will distress him, and he will be unable to see
the realities of which in his former state he had seen the shadows;
and then conceive some one saying to him, that what he saw before was an illusion, but that now, when he is approaching nearer to being and his eye is turned towards more real existence, he has a clearer vision, -what will be his reply? And you may further imagine that his instructor is pointing to the objects as they pass and
requiring him to name them, -will he not be perplexed? Will he not fancy that the shadows which he formerly saw are truer than the objects which are now shown to him?

  Far truer.

  And if he is compelled to look straight at the light, will he not
have a pain in his eyes which will make him turn away to take refuge
in the objects of vision which he can see, and which he will
conceive to be in reality clearer than the things which are now
being shown to him?

  True

  And suppose once more, that he is reluctantly dragged up a steep and
rugged ascent, and held fast until he 's forced into the presence of
the sun himself, is he not likely to be pained and irritated? When
he approaches the light his eyes will be dazzled, and he will not be
able to see anything at all of what are now called realities.

  Not all in a moment, he said.

  He will require to grow accustomed to the sight of the upper
world. And first he will see the shadows best, next the reflections of
men and other objects in the water, and then the objects themselves;
then he will gaze upon the light of the moon and the stars and the
spangled heaven; and he will see the sky and the stars by night better
than the sun or the light of the sun by day?

  Certainly.

  Last of he will be able to see the sun, and not mere reflections
of him in the water, but he will see him in his own proper place,
and not in another; and he will contemplate him as he is.

  Certainly.

  He will then proceed to argue that this is he who gives the season
and the years, and is the guardian of all that is in the visible
world, and in a certain way the cause of all things which he and his
fellows have been accustomed to behold?

  Clearly, he said, he would first see the sun and then reason about
him.

  And when he remembered his old habitation, and the wisdom of the den
and his fellow-prisoners, do you not suppose that he would
felicitate himself on the change, and pity them?

  Certainly, he would.

  And if they were in the habit of conferring honours among themselves
on those who were quickest to observe the passing shadows and to
remark which of them went before, and which followed after, and
which were together; and who were therefore best able to draw
conclusions as to the future, do you think that he would care for such
honours and glories, or envy the possessors of them? Would he not
say with Homer, '  Better to be the poor servant of a poor master,
and to endure anything, rather than think as they do and live after
their manner?'

  Yes, he said, I think that he would rather suffer anything than
entertain these false notions and live in this miserable manner.

  Imagine once more, I said, such an one coming suddenly out of the
sun to be replaced in his old situation; would he not be certain to
have his eyes full of darkness?

  To be sure, he said.

  And if there were a contest, and he had to compete in measuring
the shadows with the prisoners who had never moved out of the den,
while his sight was still weak, and before his eyes had become
steady (and the time which would be needed to acquire this new habit
of sight might be very considerable) would he not be ridiculous? Men
would say of him that up he went and down he came without his eyes;
and that it was better not even to think of ascending; and if any
one tried to loose another and lead him up to the light, let them only
catch the offender, and they would put him to death.

  No question, he said.

  This entire allegory, I said, you may now append, dear Glaucon, to
the previous argument; the prison-house is the world of sight, the
light of the fire is the sun, and you will not misapprehend me if
you interpret the journey upwards to be the ascent of the soul into
the intellectual world according to my poor belief, which, at your
desire, I have expressed whether rightly or wrongly God knows. But,
whether true or false, my opinion is that in the world of knowledge
the idea of good appears last of all, and is seen only with an effort;
and, when seen, is also inferred to be the universal author of all
things beautiful and right, parent of light and of the lord of light
in this visible world, and the immediate source of reason and truth in
the intellectual; and that this is the power upon which he who would
act rationally, either in public or private life must have his eye
fixed.

  I agree, he said, as far as I am able to understand you.

  Moreover, I said, you must not wonder that those who attain to
this beatific vision are unwilling to descend to human affairs; for
their souls are ever hastening into the upper world where they
desire to dwell; which desire of theirs is very natural, if our
allegory may be trusted.

  Yes, very natural.

  And is there anything surprising in one who passes from divine
contemplations to the evil state of man, misbehaving himself in a
ridiculous manner; if, while his eyes are blinking and before he has
become accustomed to the surrounding darkness, he is compelled to
fight in courts of law, or in other places, about the images or the
shadows of images of justice, and is endeavouring to meet the
conceptions of those who have never yet seen absolute justice?

  Anything but surprising, he replied.

  Any one who has common sense will remember that the bewilderments of
the eyes are of two kinds, and arise from two causes, either from
coming out of the light or from going into the light, which is true of
the mind's eye, quite as much as of the bodily eye; and he who
remembers this when he sees any one whose vision is perplexed and
weak, will not be too ready to laugh; he will first ask whether that
soul of man has come out of the brighter light, and is unable to see
because unaccustomed to the dark, or having turned from darkness to
the day is dazzled by excess of light. And he will count the one happy
in his condition and state of being, and he will pity the other; or,
if he have a mind to laugh at the soul which comes from below into the
light, there will be more reason in this than in the laugh which
greets him who returns from above out of the light into the den.

  That, he said, is a very just distinction.

  But then, if I am right, certain professors of education must be
wrong when they say that they can put a knowledge into the soul
which was not there before, like sight into blind eyes.

  They undoubtedly say this, he replied.

  Whereas, our argument shows that the power and capacity of
learning exists in the soul already; and that just as the eye was
unable to turn from darkness to light without the whole body, so too
the instrument of knowledge can only by the movement of the whole soul
be turned from the world of becoming into that of being, and learn
by degrees to endure the sight of being, and of the brightest and best
of being, or in other words, of the good.

  Very true.

  And must there not be some art which will effect conversion in the
easiest and quickest manner; not implanting the faculty of sight,
for that exists already, but has been turned in the wrong direction,
and is looking away from the truth?

  Yes, he said, such an art may be presumed.

  And whereas the other so-called virtues of the soul seem to be
akin to bodily qualities, for even when they are not originally innate
they can be implanted later by habit and exercise, the of wisdom
more than anything else contains a divine element which always
remains, and by this conversion is rendered useful and profitable; or, on the other hand, hurtful and useless.....