Disclaimer: This post was originally written in Chinese and translated into English by GPT-5.2.
Book VII of The Republic first offers a famous analogy aimed at the distinction between the visible world and the intelligible world proposed at the end of Book VI—namely what later generations call the Myth of the Cave. This cave myth holds an important place in the history of Western philosophy and has become a technical term; one can find it on Wikipedia. Of course, when people discuss this allegory, they often attribute it to Plato’s thought rather than Socrates’s, as can be seen from the fact that the Myth of the Cave is also called Plato’s Cave. Exactly how much of what Socrates says in The Republic is Socrates’s own thought and how much is Plato’s own thought is difficult to describe accurately. But according to Yale University’s Bryan Magee’s The Story of Philosophy, the academic community generally believes that Plato’s early dialogues more or less contain accurate descriptions of Socrates’s doctrines, descriptions that Plato heard firsthand from Socrates. But later on, although Socrates remained the protagonist in the dialogues, he had already become a mouthpiece for Plato to express his own views and doctrines. In short, Plato’s early and later writings clearly represent two different philosophical tendencies. This is an interesting phenomenon worth noting, but as far as The Republic is concerned, the Socrates figure within the system of this book is consistent from beginning to end. This reflects the logical consistency of The Republic.
The Myth of the Cave reveals the limitations of human cognition, as well as the differentiation among humans in their levels of understanding. The story says that in a cave-like underground chamber, there are some people imprisoned inside, unable to move. All their lives, all they can see is the wall in front of them, and the shadows cast upon that wall from the world outside the cave. For these people, these illusory shadows constitute their reality. Later, one of them struggles out with great difficulty, sees the world outside the cave under sunlight, and realizes that what he previously took to be real reality was nothing but illusory shadows, and what reality truly refers to; but when he returns to the cave again and tries to persuade his companions that what they see is nothing but illusory shadows, he cannot be understood, is ridiculed, and even runs the risk of being killed.
In Socrates’s view, this cave-like underground chamber represents the visible world, and the world outside the cave represents the intelligible world, so “the ascent from the cave to the upper world and the process of seeing things there is the same as the soul’s ascent to the intelligible world”; but the vast majority of people, all their lives, are confined to the visible world, and only philosophers reach the intelligible world—this is the fundamental reason why philosophers differ from ordinary people and why philosophers can rule the ideal city-state. Socrates also takes the occasion to elaborate that, for those who have never seen justice itself in the intelligible world, debating justice is extremely laughable. This is a direct response to the discussion of justice in Books I and II; the implication is that any discussion of justice not conducted within the presupposed framework of the ideal city-state is not ultimate justice, and thus not true justice.
However, the story of the Myth of the Cave also implicitly contains a very major logical problem—namely, how can we be sure that the world outside the cave is true reality? We say that beyond the mountain there is another mountain; then could the world outside the cave actually just be the interior of another, larger cave? And could this situation iterate infinitely many times? This is in fact an epistemological question: How do we know we know? If so, how do we further guarantee the certainty of truth? Perhaps we have to compromise in definition and regard truth as relative? This in any case is incompatible with Socrates’s belief in the invariance and eternity (“the One”) of truth. Yet this deep doubt does, after all, also derive from the inspiration of the Myth of the Cave. In modern times in the West there is a famous allegory of the brain in a vat, which is also a kind of remake of the Myth of the Cave, showing how far-reaching its influence is. But as far as this theoretical predicament is concerned, we believe that what is more important about the Myth of the Cave is not that it reveals the limitations of human cognition, but rather the differentiation of cognitive levels within humanity.
But the story of the Myth of the Cave still contains a positive side: the possibility that each person might break free of constraints and escape outside the cave, thereby shedding cognitive limitations—though this possibility depends both on one’s own courage and effort and on external influences (for example, the person in the above story who ran outside did so by a fortuitous conjunction of circumstances). This is why Socrates believes that “knowledge is a capacity that exists in every person’s soul, and the organ by which each person learns is like the eye—unless the whole body changes its direction, the eye cannot turn from darkness to light.” Socrates does not distrust acquired cultivation and education, but he believes these things have limitations. He says: “Education is in fact not as certain people in their profession claim. They claim that they can pour into the soul knowledge that was not there before, as if they could put sight into blind eyes.” In other words, there is some innately superior and unattainable quality in the human soul, and these qualities are not something human effort can change. For example, for the other cave prisoners in the above story, although later there is an opportunity for them to be freed, they do not recognize it and do not trust it, because their souls lack the quality of pursuing truth, or that quality has been obscured by long-term bondage. In his famous essay “What Is Enlightenment?”, Kant holds: “Enlightenment is man’s release from his self-incurred immaturity. Immaturity is the inability to use one’s understanding without the guidance of another. This immaturity is self-incurred, not because of lack of understanding, but because of lack of resolve and courage to use one’s understanding without the guidance of another.” This can be consulted. But Socrates may be more pessimistic; he believes that people’s lack of such resolve and courage is also innate. Conversely, philosophers are born, not made; without such a gift, one cannot become a philosopher in one’s lifetime. So he says: “Philosophers who are born in other states have reason to refuse to take part in arduous political work, because they arise entirely spontaneously, and are not consciously trained and produced by the government.” Socrates’s contradiction lies in the fact that, on the one hand, he believes that precisely because philosophers are not produced through training, they owe no one any favor and therefore it is justified that they do not feel eager to repay a benefactor’s grace; but on the other hand, in the ideal city-state, rulers—that is, those who have the potential to be philosophers—also need the state to be responsible for their education and cultivation, and the responsibility for such cultivation, at least for the later, already designated successors, is borne by the incumbent rulers.
As for the cultivation of rulers, this book discusses it in great detail, though these discussions have more or less been touched upon in the earlier books. In terms of nature: 1. Those to be cultivated must first love learning, and love the challenges of learning, studying diligently and assiduously. 2. They must possess very good memory. 3. They can be consistent from beginning to end, persevering. 4. They must truly possess temperance, courage, magnanimity, and all kinds of virtues. In terms of method, they should be made to learn by means of play rather than compulsion. First, because embedding education in play better accords with human nature; second, because in play it is easier to discern the true nature of those being cultivated. In terms of selection procedures, there are multiple rounds of selection: the first time, first select those youths who show unwavering steadfastness in learning, war, and the fulfillment of other duties; the second time, select among them the youths richest in the above natures, grant them corresponding honors, and examine their dialectical ability. Of course, in terms of content, those being cultivated also need several years of physical training and musical training; these are what acquired education can confer. It is worth noting that in the ideal city-state, women are also included in the ruling class.
This book also discusses quite a few viewpoints worth talking about. For example: the distinction between things that do not require rational reflection and things that do require rational reflection. The former refers to “things that do not at the same time arouse opposite sensations”—that is, in a particular situation they arouse a particular emotion, without disturbance, and without the need for deep thought; the latter refers to “those things that can at the same time arouse opposite sensations”—that is, those things about which human senses cannot decide on the spot, which cause disturbance, and which require deep thought. Another example: Socrates highly emphasizes the role of dialectic. He believes that when a person can reason through dialectic without relying on the senses, as long as he can persist all the way until, by thought itself, he understands the essence of the good, he can reach the essence of the good. The dialectic here is in fact the Socratic Method, a way of ascending without hypotheses to first principles, and finally reaching the summit of the intelligible world. However, on the other hand, Socrates also realizes the danger that dialectic may slide into sophistry. If a person’s nature is corrupted by the environment, the advantage of cleverness may instead produce depravity, so he says: “Those who practice dialectic violate the law.”
Finally, this book also discusses the importance of mathematics or arithmetic, holding that this is the foundation for learning other knowledge. We know that Socrates’s philosophical system is very much biased toward ethics; for example, he believes that “virtue is knowledge,” and the emphasis on the importance of mathematics may not be one of Socrates’s doctrines. Plato’s Academy had a famous admissions requirement: “Let no one enter here who is ignorant of mathematics.” This may be precisely the case mentioned at the beginning of this text, of clarifying one’s own meaning through Socrates’s mouth.
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