From
Republic
Translated
by Benjamin Jowett
Persons of the
Dialogue:
SOCRATES
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 cave, which has a mouth open towards the light and reaching all
along the cave; 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.
Socrates: 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.
Glaucon: You have shown me a strange image, and they are
strange prisoners.
Socrates: 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?
Glaucon: True, he said; how could they see anything but the
shadows if they were never allowed to move their heads?
Socrates: And of the objects which are being carried in like
manner they would only see the shadows?
Glaucon: Yes, he said.
Socrates: And if they were able to converse with one another,
would they not suppose that they were naming what was actually before them?
Glaucon: Very true.
Socrates: 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?
Glaucon: No question, he replied.
Socrates: To them, I said, the truth would be literally
nothing but the shadows of the images.
Glaucon: That is certain.
Socrates: 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?
Glaucon: Far truer.
Socrates: 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?
Glaucon: True, he now.
Socrates: 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.
Glaucon: Not all
in a moment, he said.
Socrates: 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?
Glaucon: Certainly.
Socrates: 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.
Glaucon: Certainly.
Socrates: 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?
Glaucon: Clearly, he said, he would first see the sun and then
reason about him.
Socrates: And when he remembered his old habitation, and the
wisdom of the cave and his fellow-prisoners, do you not suppose that he would
felicitate himself on the change, and pity them?
Glaucon: Certainly, he would.
Socrates: 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, ÒBetter to be the poor
servant of a poor master,Ó and to
endure anything, rather than think as they do and live after their manner?
Glaucon: Yes, he said, I think that he would rather suffer
anything than entertain these false notions and live in this miserable manner.
Socrates: 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?
Glaucon: To be sure, he said.
Socrates: 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
cave, 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.
Glaucon: No question, he said.
Socrates: 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.
Glaucon: I agree, he said, as far as I am able to understand
you.
Socrates: 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.
Glaucon: Yes, very natural.
Socrates: 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 endeavoring to meet the conceptions of those who have never yet seen
absolute justice?
Glaucon: Anything but surprising, he replied.
Socrates: 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 cave.
Glaucon: That, he said, is a very just distinction.
Socrates: 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.
Glaucon: They undoubtedly say this, he replied.
Socrates: 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.
Glaucon: Very true.
Socrates: 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?
Glaucon: Yes, he said, such an art may be presumed.
Socrates: 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. Did you never observe the narrow intelligence flashing from the
keen eye of a clever rogue --how eager he is, how clearly his paltry soul sees
the way to his end; he is the reverse of blind, but his keen eyesight is forced
into the service of evil, and he is mischievous in proportion to his
cleverness.
Glaucon: Very true, he said.
Socrates: But what if there had been a circumcision of such
natures in the days of their youth; and they had been severed from those
sensual pleasures, such as eating and drinking, which, like leaden weights,
were attached to them at their birth, and which drag them down and turn the
vision of their souls upon the things that are below --if, I say, they had been
released from these impediments and turned in the opposite direction, the very
same faculty in them would have seen the truth as keenly as they see what their
eyes are turned to now.
Glaucon: Very likely.
Socrates: Yes, I said; and there is another thing which is
likely. or rather a necessary inference from what has preceded, that neither
the uneducated and uninformed of the truth, nor yet those who never make an end
of their education, will be able ministers of State; not the former, because
they have no single aim of duty which is the rule of all their actions, private
as well as public; nor the latter, because they will not act at all except upon
compulsion, fancying that they are already dwelling apart in the islands of the
blest.
Glaucon: Very true, he replied.
Socrates: Then, I said, the business of us who are the
founders of the State will be to compel the best minds to attain that knowledge
which we have already shown to be the greatest of all-they must continue to
ascend until they arrive at the good; but when they have ascended and seen enough
we must not allow them to do as they do now.
Glaucon: What do you mean?
Socrates: I mean that they remain in the upper world: but this
must not be allowed; they must be made to descend again among the prisoners in
the cave, and partake of their labors and honors, whether they are worth having
or not.
Glaucon: But is not this unjust? he said; ought we to give
them a worse life, when they might have a better?
Socrates: You have again forgotten, my friend, I said, the
intention of the legislator, who did not aim at making any one class in the
State happy above the rest; the happiness was to be in the whole State, and he
held the citizens together by persuasion and necessity, making them benefactors
of the State, and therefore benefactors of one another; to this end he created
them, not to please themselves, but to be his instruments in binding up the
State.
Glaucon: True, he said, I had forgotten.
Socrates: Observe, Glaucon, that there will be no injustice in
compelling our philosophers to have a care and providence of others; we shall
explain to them that in other States, men of their class are not obliged to
share in the toils of politics: and this is reasonable, for they grow up at
their own sweet will, and the government would rather not have them. Being
self-taught, they cannot be expected to show any gratitude for a culture which
they have never received. But we have brought you into the world to be rulers
of the hive, kings of yourselves and of the other citizens, and have educated
you far better and more perfectly than they have been educated, and you are
better able to share in the double duty. Wherefore each of you, when his turn
comes, must go down to the general underground abode, and get the habit of
seeing in the dark. When you have acquired the habit, you will see ten thousand
times better than the inhabitants of the cave, and you will know what the
several images are, and what they represent, because you have seen the
beautiful and just and good in their truth. And thus our State which is also
yours will be a reality, and not a dream only, and will be administered in a
spirit unlike that of other States, in which men fight with one another about
shadows only and are distracted in the struggle for power, which in their eyes
is a great good. Whereas the truth is that the State in which the rulers are
most reluctant to govern is always the best and most quietly governed, and the
State in which they are most eager, the worst.
Glaucon: Quite true, he
replied.
Socrates: And will our pupils, when they hear this, refuse to
take their turn at the toils of State, when they are allowed to spend the
greater part of their time with one another in the heavenly light?
Glaucon: Impossible, he answered; for they are just men, and
the commands which we impose upon them are just; there can be no doubt that
every one of them will take office as a stern necessity, and not after the
fashion of our present rulers of State.
Socrates: Yes, my friend, I said; and there lies the point.
You must contrive for your future rulers another and a better life than that of
a ruler, and then you may have a well-ordered State; for only in the State
which offers this, will they rule who are truly rich, not in silver and gold,
but in virtue and wisdom, which are the true blessings of life. Whereas if they
go to the administration of public affairs, poor and hungering after the' own
private advantage, thinking that hence they are to snatch the chief good, order
there can never be; for they will be fighting about office, and the civil and
domestic broils which thus arise will be the ruin of the rulers themselves and
of the whole State.
Glaucon: Most true, he replied.
Socrates: And the only life which looks down upon the life of
political ambition is that of true philosophy. Do you know of any other?
Glaucon: Indeed, I do not, he said.
Socrates: And those who govern ought not to be lovers of the
task? For, if they are, there will be rival lovers, and they will fight.
Glaucon: No question.
Socrates: Who then are those whom we shall compel to be
guardians? Surely they will be the men who are wisest about affairs of State,
and by whom the State is best administered, and who at the same time have other
honors and another and a better life than that of politics?
Glaucon: They are the men, and I will choose them, he
replied.
Socrates: And now shall we consider in what way such guardians
will be produced, and how they are to be brought from darkness to light, -- as
some are said to have ascended from the world below to the gods?
Glaucon: By all means, he replied.
Socrates: The process, I said, is not the turning over of an
oyster-shell, but the turning round of a soul passing from a day which is
little better than night to the true day of being, that is, the ascent from
below, which we affirm to be true philosophy?
Glaucon: Quite so.