Key ideas: What is education? The cave allegory.
The cave allegory
"Next, then," I said, "make an image of our nature in its educahon and want of education, likening it to a condition of the following· kind.
See human beings as though they were in an underground cave-like dwelling with its entrance, a long one, open to the light across the whole width of the cave. They are in it from childhood with their legs and necks in bonds so that they are fixed, seeing only in front of them, unable wbecause of the bond to turn their heads all the way around. Their light is from a fire burning far above and behind them. Between the fire and the prisoners there is a road above, along which see a wall, built like the partitions puppet-handlers set in front of the human beings and over which they show the puppets."
"I see," he said."Then also see along this wall human beings carrying all sorts of artifacts, which project above the wall, and statues of men and other animals wrought from stone, wood, and every kind of material; as is to be expected, some of the carriers utter sounds while others are silent."
"It's a strange image," he said, "and strange prisoners you're telling of"
"They're like us," I said. "For in the first place, do you suppose such men would have seen anything of themselves and one another other than the shadows cast by the fire on the side of the cave facing them?"
"How could they," he said, "if they had been compelled to keep their heads motionless throughout life?"
"And what about the things that are carried by? Isn't it the same with them?"
"Of course."
"If they were able to discuss things with one another, don't you believe they would hold that they are naming these things going by before them that they see?"
"Necessarily."
"And what if the prison also had an echo from the side facing them? Whenever one of the men passing by happens to utter a sound do you suppose they would believe that anything other than the passing shadow was uttering the sound?"
"No, by Zeus," he said. "I don't."
"Then most certainly," I said, "such men would hold that the truth is nothing other than the shadows of artificial things."
"Most necessarily," he said.
"Now consider," I said, "what their release and healing from bonds and folly would be like if something of this sort were by nature to happen to them. Take a man who is released and suddenly compelled to stand up, to turn his neck around, to walk and look up toward the light; and who, moreover, in doing all this is in pain and, because he is dazzled, is unable to make out those things whose shadows he saw before.
What do you suppose he'd say if someone were to tell him that before he saw silly nothings, while now, because he is somewhat nearer to what is and more turned toward beings, he sees more correctly; and, in particular, showing him each of the things that pass by, were to compel the man to answer his questions about what they are? Don't you suppose he'd be at a loss and believe that what was seen before is truer than what is now shown?"
"Yes," he said, "by far."
"And, if he compelled him to look at the light itself, would his eyes hurt and would he flee, turning away to those things that he is able to make out and hold them to be really clearer than what is being shown?"
"So he would," he said.
"And, if he compelled him to look at the light itself, would his eyes hurt and would he flee, turning away to those things that he is able to make out and hold them to be really clearer than what is being shown?"
"So he would," he said.
"And if," I said, "someone dragged him away from there by force along the rough, steep, upward way and didn't let him go before he had dragged him out into the light of the sun, wouldn't he be distressed and annoyed at being so dragged? And when he came to the light, wouldn't he have his eyes full of its beam and be unable to see even one of the things now said to be true?"
"No, he wouldn't," he said, "at least not right away."
"Then I suppose he'd have to get accustomed, if he were going to see what's up above. At first he'd most easily make out the shadows; and after that the phantoms of the human beings and the other things in water; and, later, the things themselves. And from there he could turn to beholding the things in heaven and heaven itself, more easily at night-looking at the light of the stars and the moon-than by day-looking at the sun and sunlight."
"Of course."
"Then finally I suppose he would be able to make out the sun-not its appearances in water or some alien place, but the sun itself by itself in its own region-and see what it's like."
"Necessarily," he said.
"And after that he would already be in a position to conclude about it that this 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 the cause of all those things he and his companions had been seeing."
"It's plain," he said, "that this would be his next step."
"What then? When he recalled his first home and the wisdom there, and his fellow prisoners in that time, don't you suppose he would consider himself happy for the change and pity the others?"
"Quite so."
..."And what about this? Do you suppose it is anything surprising," I said, "if a man, come from acts of divine contemplation to the human evils, is graceless and looks quite ridiculous when-with his sight still dim and before he has gotten sufficiently accustomed to the surrounding darkness-he is compelled in courts or elsewhere to contest about the shadows of the just or the representations of which they are the shadows, and to dispute about the way these things are understood by men who have never seen justice itself?"
"It's not at all surprising," he said.
"But if a man were intelligent," I said, "he would remember that there are two kinds of disturbances of the eyes, stemming from two sources-when they have been transferred from light to darkness and when they have been transferred from darkness to light.
And if he held that these same things happen to a soul too, whenever he saw one that is confused and unable to make anything out, he wouldn't laugh without reasoning but would go on to consider whether, come from a brighter life, it is in darkness for want of being accustomed, or whether, going from greater lack of learning to greater brightness, it is dazzled by the greater brilliance.
And then he would deem the first soul happy for its condition and its life, while he would pity the second.
And, if he wanted to laugh at the second soul, his laughing in this case would be less a laugh of scorn than would his laughing at the soul which has come from above out of the light.""What you say is quite sensible," he said.
"Then, if this is true," I said, "we must hold the following about these things: education is not what the professions of certain men assert it to be. They presumably assert that they put into the soul knowledge that isn't in it, as though they were putting sight into blind eyes."
"Yes," he said, "they do indeed assert that."
"But the present argument, on the other hand," I said, "indicates that this power is in the soul of each, and that the instrument with which each learns-just as an eye is not able to tum toward the light from the dark without the whole body-must be turned around from that which is coming into being together with the whole soul until it is able to endure looking at that which is and the brightest part of that which is. And we affirm that this is the good, don't we?"
"Yes."
"There would, therefore," I said, "be an art of this turning around, concerned with the way in which this power can most easily and efficiently be turned around, not an art of producing sight in it. Rather, this art takes as given that sight is there, but not rightly turned nor looking at what it ought to look at, and accomplishes this object."
"So it seems," he said
..."Therefore, you best of men," I said, "don't use force in training the children in the studies, but rather play. In that way you can also better discern what each is naturally directed toward."
"What you say makes sense." he said.