Understanding Plato’s The Allegory
Andrew Gottlieb
Plato’s Allegory of the Cave appears in the beginning of Book VII of his most comprehensive work, The Republic, written in 360 B.C.E. The philosophical concepts in the allegory are articulated in two other dialogues, Phaedo and Meno. Students facing the challenge of interpreting the allegory would be well advised to familiarize themselves with these concepts. The Encarta Dictionary defines an allegory as “a work in which the characters and events are to be understood as representing other things and symbolically expressing a deeper, often spiritual, moral, or political meaning.” The Allegory of the Cave is neither about a cave nor about the people in the cave. It is not about the shadows, or the people, or objects that cast them, nor is it about the sun. These are figurative representations of the component parts of Plato’s philosophical conception of reality and education. Understanding the allegory thus entails an ability to think figuratively, to move from image to idea, and by so doing to recognize and comprehend certain concepts represented by the images depicted in the text. Two of these are the theory of recollection and the theory of Forms. The pedagogical approach by means of which Socrates passes on these concepts to his students is referred to as the Socratic method. For all intents and purposes, the Socratic method is inseparable from the theory of recollection which in turn is inseparable from the theory of Forms. In the context of Plato’s ideological framework, no one of these terms can be adequately articulated without reference to the others.
Inherent in Plato’s concept of education are certain ideas held by his contemporaries. His philosophy did not emerge out of a vacuum. Plato’s audience was steeped in a religious
tradition involving beliefs relating to life before birth and after death that are arguably as inseparable from Plato’s philosophical framework as is the theory of recollection and the theory of forms. It is with this in mind that, in addition to explaining these two theories, I will give a brief account of what is referred to as the river of Unmindfulness in Book X of
Plato’s Republic and as Lethe, the river of Forgetfulness, in Virgil’s Aeneid, and explain its
relevance to Plato’s concept of education. Given that the focus of this study is to shed light on The Allegory of the Cave, I will provide as well a brief commentary on the metaphors used in the
text. In addition to this I will consider what the morals of the allegory may be. I will also explore the validity of how these may be applied to our lives today, the validity of Plato’s view of education along with the outcomes of using the Socratic method in the classroom.
The Theory of Recollection
In Plato’s dialogues Meno, Socrates discusses an idea referred to as the theory of recollection. In Phaedo, Cebes states:
Later on in the dialogue Socrates asks:
‘But if the knowledge which we acquired before birth was lost by us at birth, and afterwards by the use of the senses we recovered that which we previously knew, will not that which we call learning be a process of recovering our knowledge, and may not this be rightly termed recollection by us?’
The theory of recollection is alluded to in The Allegory of the Cave when Socrates says, ‘Education, then would be the art of directing this instrument, of finding the
easiest and most effective way of turning it round. Not the art of putting the power of sight into it, but the art which assumes it possesses this power—albeit incorrectly aligned, and looking in the wrong direction—and contrives to make it look in the right direction.’
Plato’s idea is that learning is recollection. We learn by remembering what we already know and, that what we already know is something we know prior to our birth.
The One in the Many - The Theory of Forms
From the dawn of civilization mankind has sought to make sense of things. The universe can appear to be a pretty confusing place. The belief that there is order in what may appear to be a seemingly chaotic world can assuage this sense of disorientation. In addition to its dislike for chaos, humanity has shown an aversion for impermanence. It is likely that philosophy and science arose out of a quest for the eternal. Permanence and change is one of the most pervasive topics raised by thinking people. One of the fundamental questions explored by the philosophers who preceded Socrates is: What is the source or origin of all things? What is the one in the many?
In the 6th century B.C.E, Thales, Anaximenes, and Anaximander from the Melesian School of Philosophy, posited answers to this question.* For Thales the source of all things was water, for Anaximenes it was air, and for Anaximander it was the Boundless. Another thinker of the same period, Heracleitus from Epheseus, known for having said that “everything is in flux,” believed that fire was the one in the many. Unlike Thales, Anaximenes, Anaximander, and Heracleitus, Plato did not posit a physical source of all things. For him, the one in the many was something immaterial. One of the dialogues in which this issue is explored is Parmenides.
‘I should like to know whether you mean that there are certain ideas of which all other things partake, and from which they derive their names;
that similars, for example, become similar, because they partake of similarity; and great things become great, because they partake of greatness; and that just and beautiful things become just and beautiful, because they partake of justice and beauty?’
‘Yes, certainly, said Socrates that is my meaning.’
‘Then each individual partakes either of the whole of the idea or else of a part of the idea? Can there be any other mode of participation?’
‘There cannot be, he said.’
‘Then do you think that the whole idea is one, and yet, being one, is in each one of the many?’
‘Why not, Parmenides? said Socrates.
‘Because one and the same thing will exist as a whole at the same time in many separate individuals, and will therefore be in a state of separation from itself.’
‘Nay, but the idea may be like the day which is one and the same in many places at once, and yet continuous with itself; in this way each idea may be one; and the same in all at the same time.’
The question Parmenides asks is a crucial one: “I should like to know whether you mean that there are certain ideas of which all other things partake, and from which they derive their names.” In the context of Plato’s dialogues the question of the derivation of names entails something other than a study of language. Socrates is not a linguist. His concern is not with the etymological roots of words or with the genesis of their meanings. Socrates is interested in a deeper reality underlying the more superficial layers of meaning making. His understanding of the origin of names transcends a study of the languages from which they may have been formed. In the context of Plato’s philosophical framework the names and the things they represent originate from a realm of pure thought, a sphere that transcends the ravages of time and the constraints of space.
Apart from being subject to change, all things in the material realm are different. No two trees are identical. No two animals are the same. Yet, we are somehow able to look at any tree and identify it as a tree. We are able to look at any animal and identify it as an animal. According to Socrates, we are able to do this because we are born with the knowledge of the single substance or Form underlying the variations of that Form. As such, everything we comprehend by means of sensory perception is an imperfect imitation of the one and only original in the universe. Whatever idea we may have of goodness or justice or beauty or love is
rooted in our experience in the material realm and is subject to change and deterioration. The Form from which the name of material objects and the objects themselves is derived is
immutable and perfect. This idea is referred to as the theory of Forms. In the Allegory of the Cave the material objects we perceive as real are characterized as shadows. The Forms are characterized as the people and things casting the shadows.
The Socratic Method
The pedagogical approach used by Socrates is referred to as the Socratic method, an interaction in which the teacher leads the student explore certain suppositions by asking him questions. The initial questions tend to focus on what the student would readily agree to. As the questioning progresses, the student is gradually directed to more challenging questions.* * The progression from the simple to the complex is used as well in presentation of the postulates in Euclidean
The conclusions resulting from the more challenging question are founded on the conclusion resulting from the earlier questions. The earlier conclusions are premises upon which the final conclusion is drawn assuming there is one. Socrates uses if-then propositions. If this is true, he asks, then is it not true that something else is true? He leaves it up to the student to determine the truth or falsehood of each proposition. It is evident in some cases that Socrates already knows the final conclusion and is leading his listeners to it. In other cases he appears to be exploring the question himself. The point of some of these interactions is that there is no definitive answer. The student is led to the conclusion that he has been expressing a thought or using a word he does not understand and that the very acknowledgment of such ignorance is wisdom.
In all cases, the Socratic method relies on interrogative sentences. Whatever information is given is offered in the form of a question often including the words “Suppose,” or “Do you suppose that…,” or “Can you agree…,” or “Do you think…” Many of these are rhetorical questions, meaning that the one posing the questions already knows the answers and is trying to get the one being asked to arrive at the conclusion he has in mind. The apparent intention of Socrates in engaging his students in this mode of discourse is to induce them to think along with him.
The principle underlying the Socratic method is that the teacher is not filling the student with knowledge but rather helping him to recollect the truth he has within him. One of the most well known examples of this approach is in Meno, the dialogue in which Socrates enables a boy with no apparent formal education to solve a geometrical problem involving the area of a square. Socrates also uses this method in The Allegory of The Cave. The difference between this dialogue and others is the narrative element. One possible reason for introducing the use of allegory is to enable the reader to visualize the idea. The art of storytelling has in many cultures been a way of conveying ideas or morals. In the case of Plato the use of such a technique is uncharacteristic. The usual approach used in Plato’s dialogues entails the use of interrogatives
devoid of narrative or metaphorical devices. The use of such devices is perhaps what makes The Allegory of the Cave stand out.
The River of Forgetfulness
For Plato and his contemporaries in ancient Greece the soul is immortal. After death, it resides in the Underworld, a region called Hades and is also the name of the God who rules the domain. After some period of time, the soul begins a new incarnation. An individual is however not allowed to begin his new life until his memory of his past existence has been eradicated. This is referred to in Virgil’s Aeneid in which the author explains that “it is only when the dead have had their memories erased by the Lethe (the river of forgetfulness) that they may be reincarnated” (Day-Lewis, Cecil (trans.) (1952). Virgil's Aeneid. 705). The same river is referred
to in Book X of Plato’s Republic by a messenger from the underworld who recounts the story of the river he refers to as the river of Unmindfulness as it was related to him by a prophet.
attempt to help his students recall the facts of their former lives, he is instrumental in guiding them to the knowledge they had prior to their current emanation. These speculations though debatable are intriguing.
The Metaphors in the Allegory
How can we know from the allegory itself the metaphorical significance of the images it depicts? Does Socrates explain them? The only metaphors Socrates interprets are the prison
dwelling, the upper world, and the sun. “The region revealed to us by sight,” he says, “is the prison dwelling.” He refers to the upper world or region, which he alludes to with the words “the view of things above,” as the “realm of understanding” and as “the realm of thought.” He also says that “the things seen last” are “the form or character of the good for everything.” From the fact that while telling the allegory he says “The last thing he’d be able to look at, presumably, would be the sun,” we can infer that Socrates is equating the sun with the form of the good for everything.
There is no place in the dialogue where Socrates offers these kinds of interpretations for the other images in the allegory. He leaves it up to his audience to interpret the rest. It is up
to us to determine the metaphorical significance of the prisoners, the chains, the shadows on the wall, and the people and the objects they are carrying. This is where familiarity with the
theory of recollection and the theory of Forms comes in handy. It is fair to assume that the
prisoners are all of us. We are all prisoners in the realm of sight. The chains may be seen to represent the material nature of our being and the ignorance that comes as a result of focusing
on material concerns. The shadows on the wall are imitations of the Forms which are represented by the people and the objects they are carrying.
Morals of the Allegory
It is customary to think of an allegory as having a moral as in the case of Aesop’s Fables. A moral is a rule or lesson added to the end of a story. The moral added to The Hare and the Tortoise is “Slow and steady wins the race.” The moral of The Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing is
“Appearances often are deceiving.” Added to The Ass and the Grasshopper is the moral “One man’s meat is another’s poison.” Socrates doesn’t add a moral as simple and direct as
these to his allegory, but it is evident that he tells the tale to teach a lesson or more precisely three lessons. The following passage expresses the first of these.
‘My own view, for what it’s worth, is that in the realm of what can be known the things seen last, and seen with great difficulty, is the form or character of the good. But when it is seen, the conclusion must be that it turns out to be the cause of all that is right and good for everything. In the realm of sight it gives birth to light and light’s sovereign, the sun, while in the realm of thought it is itself sovereign, producing truth and reason unassisted. I further believe that anyone who is going to act wisely either in private life or in public life must have had a sight of this.’
The following passage at the end of the allegory offers two more lessons. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘if it’s true, there’s one conclusion we can’t avoid. Education is not what some people proclaim it to be. What they say, roughly speaking, is that they are able to put knowledge into souls where none was before. Like putting sight into eyes which were blind.’
‘Yes, that is what they say.’
‘Whereas our present account indicates that this capacity in every soul, this instrument by means of which each person learns, is like an eye which can only be turned away from the darkness and towards the light by turning the whole body. The entire soul has to turn with it, away from what is coming to be, until it is able to bear the sight of what is, and in particular the brightest part of it. This is the part we call the good, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Education, then, ‘ I said, ‘would be the art of directing this instrument, of finding the easiest and most effective way of turning it round. Not the art of putting the power of sight into it, but the art which assumes it possesses this power—albeit incorrectly aligned, and looking in the wrong direction—and contrives to make it look in the right direction.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It looks as if that is what education is.’
The second lesson, as expressed in this passage, is that “Education is not what some people proclaim it to be.” The third lesson of the allegory may be articulated as: Education is the art of directing the eye of the soul toward the realm of thought and away the realm of sight. Implicit in this is the idea that learning entails focusing not on the material or sensory realm but rather on the immaterial or mental realm. In Plato’s view goodness and happiness can only be derived from directing one’s attention to what he views as a higher plane of consciousness. This is the heart and soul of Platonism.
The Relevance of Plato’s Allegory Today
It is fair to say that Plato’s critique of education is relevant today. Is it not true that many of our contemporaries tend to view education as the acquisition of information? Is it not true that we are encouraged to embrace a materialistic view of life and learning? Can we not also agree that the idea that education is a way of helping students discover the truth that lies within them is a rarity? If Socrates were alive today, it is likely he would make the same observations about many of us as he did of his contemporaries.
The Validity of Plato’s View of Education
knowledge of all the words we come to know throughout our lives? This too is a dubious
proposition. On the other hand, it may not be so unreasonable to assume that we are born with a knowledge or sense of things like justice, beauty, and love. Something inside of us may know
what these mean. Yet, since we live in an imperfect world and do not have models of perfect justice, beauty, and love, we may find ourselves at a loss to define these words in ways that would meet Socratic standards. As far as knowledge of mathematical propositions, Socrates did believe that these were innate. This is demonstrated by his interaction with the boy in Meno.
We may consider the question of innate knowledge in other ways. What about talent? There are very young children who have shown amazing talent in the arts, mathematics and in games and sports. People such as Mozart and Gauss are extreme cases. As a child, Mozart’s musical ability was uncanny. Gauss, at the age of three, showed phenomenal ability in mathematics. To a degree, we all have impressive abilities early on in life. It has been said that we learn a large percentage of the words we know throughout our lives by the age of five. Clearly, the words themselves are not inborn, but what about the capacity to learn them? A cat
or a bird cannot learn to speak as we do. Animals are not wired for language as we are. The capacity for learning language is inborn. It is thus fair to say that abilities can be inborn and
that the education we receive is simply a means by which we can help to make what is naturally within us grow in the same way that watering a flower helps it to blossom. The capacity for growth is in the seed. Such a capacity cannot be put into the seed if it is not already there. Just as the caretaker of a greenhouse helps her plants grow so can a teacher help her students develop their talents and abilities. The most valuable thing a teacher can do may not be to impart information to her students but rather to help them realize that they have the capacity to gather that information for themselves and to apply what they have learned to develop their innate abilities.
The difference between the seed analogy and Plato’s theory of recollection is that it implies a genetic origin, something imbedded in the biological nature of the flower whereas Plato’s idea explicitly makes mention of life before birth. This is where the theory of recollections may get a bit sticky, at least for many of us living today. In Plato’s time the notion of life before birth was widespread. The belief in reincarnation was part and parcel of a religious mindset that was common to people in ancient Greece.
Outcomes of Using the Socratic Method in the Classroom
What are the outcomes of using the Socratic method in the classroom? One of these is the potential to sow the seeds of invention. People who are compelled to think for themselves are more likely to find new solutions to old problems than those who are treated as empty vessels waiting to be filled.
Einstein is known to have failed in school, a failure which has been attributed to his dislike for rote learning. From the start Einstein learned by means of reasoning and imagining. The rigid and mechanical method of instruction common to schools in Germany at the time he was growing up was antithetical to his nature. The same is likely to be true for any number of creative spirits whose brilliance flourishes only when they are encouraged to question what they have learned.
Athenians. One of the prime functions of the Socratic method is to reveal the shortcomings of commonly held beliefs and to expose ignorance. Such revelations can be painful. The Allegory of The Cave Socrates makes it clear that the rewards of leaving the cave do not
come without a price.
When one of them was untied, and compelled suddenly to stand up, turn his head, start walking, and look towards the light, he’d find all these things painful.
* * *
‘And if he was dragged out of there by force, up the steep and difficult path, with no pause until he had been dragged right out into the sunlight, wouldn’t he find this dragging painful? Wouldn’t he resent it? And when he came into the light, with his eyes filled with the glare, would he be able to see a single one of the things he is now told are true?’
‘No, he wouldn’t. Not at first.’
‘He’d need to acclimatize himself, I imagine, if he were going to see things up there. To start with, he’d find shadows the easiest things to look at. After that, reflections—of people and other things—in water. The things themselves would come later, and from those he would move on to the heavenly bodies and the heavens themselves. He’d find it easier to look at the light of the stars and the moon by night than look at the sun and the light of the sun, by day.’
‘Of course.’
Implicit in these passages is the idea that teaching can be coercive. The cave dweller would be “dragged out of (the cave) by force” and “compelled” to look toward the light. The learning process Socrates has in mind is not a walk in the park. His concern is more for truth than for
comfort. He does however say that the cave dweller would need to “acclimatize himself” by starting with the easiest things to look at. In this regard, Socrates is diplomatic. Learning is
Works Cited Day-Lewis, Cecil (trans.) (1952). Virgil's Aeneid. 705.
Griffith. New York: Cambridge UP, 2000. 220-26. (Book 7, sections 514a – 518d) Plato. Parmenides. Translated by Benjamin Jowett. The Internet Classics Archive. Plato. Meno. Translated by Benjamin Jowett. The Internet Classics Archive. Plato. Phaedo. Translated by Benjamin Jowett. The Internet Classics Archive.
