Plato
Book VII of The Republic
The Allegory of the Cave
[Socrates is
speaking with Glaucon]
[Socrates:]
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.
[Glaucon:] 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 if 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 and take 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, he
said.
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 honors’ 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 honors’ 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 a 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.
1. What did you discover about your cave – what ideas
imprison you and why do they have
such a hold on you?
2. What did you discover about how these binding shackles can
be released?
3. Did you
experience any moments of freedom and happiness today?
How could you describe them?
4. Based upon
your experience today, what are the most important practical steps you could
take to increase your own happiness?
5. Are there
any other insights and/or experiences from today that are worth noting?