Plato, The Republic BOOK VII

[Allegory of the Cave]

(SOCRATES, GLAUCON.)

S: Imagine human beings living in an underground den, which has a

mouth open toward 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 their head around. Above and behind them a fire is blazing at a distance, and between the fire and the prisoners there is a raised path; and you will see, if you look, a low wall built along the path, like the screen which marionette-players have in front of them, over which they show the puppets.

G: I see.

S: 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.

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

S: 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?

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

S: And of the objects which are being carried would also be just shadows?

G: Yes.

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

G: Very true.

S: 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?

G: No question, he replied.

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

G: That is certain.

S: And now look again, and see what will naturally follow if the prisoners are released and discovered 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 toward 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. If someone then said to the man that the shadows were an illusion and what he was now looking at was real things, what would he think? Won�t he be confused by the real objects, and unable to recognize them? Won�t he decide that the shadows he knew before were more real than what he was now looking at?

G: Very true.

S: And if he is compelled to look straight at the light, won�t his eyes hurt, leading him to take refuge in the cave, and the old shadows which he can see, and which he will think to more clear and real than the things which are now being shown to him?

G: True.

S: He will need 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?

G: Certainly.

S: Last of all he will be able to see the sun, and not mere reflections of it in the water, but he will see it in its own proper place, and not in another; and he will contemplate it as it is.

G: Certainly.

S: He will then proceed to argue that it is the sun which causes the seasons 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?

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

S: And when he remembered his old place in the cave, and the beliefs of the den and his fellow-prisoners, do you not suppose that he would be happy and pity them?

G: Certainly, he would.

S: And if the cave dwellers gave out honors to those who were quickest to observe the passing shadows, and were best at analyzing their details and behaviors, do you think the free man would care for such honors and glories, or envy the possessors of them?

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

S: You can now understand this allegory, dear Glaucon. 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 upward to be the ascent of the soul into the intellectual world. Whether true or false, my argument is that in the world of knowledge the idea of good appears last of all, and is seen only with an effort. When the good is seen, is also understood 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 for those who think. This is the power upon which he who would act rationally either in public or private life must have his eye fixed.

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