Description
This essay needs to compare one highlight from the “Why we care about whales” essay to real world experience, then draw in the second essay of plato’s cave allegory and relate it to real world experiences as well.The real world experience we chose was how Chicago has many underfunded schools, yet because of the safety and separation of neighborhoods in Chicago it is easy to be clouded from that reality. While during my experience in Kenya, the lack of resources and education were blatant, which is why I went to help children in Kenya instead of working to better the education of children in my hometown of chicago. The “Why we care about Wales” is the primary essay in which we are comparing to. Plato’s allegory is used to support the thesis of differences on lenses of humanity, and the personal narrative from the close-mindedness of living in the suburbs of Chicago.
Unformatted Attachment Preview
Deepening Lens Essay Rubric
Exceeds
Requirements
& Expectations
Successfully
Meets
Requirements
& Expectations
Representation
Gives strong,
succinct overviews
of all textual
evidence, with
particular aspects of
focus; incorporates
summary,
paraphrase, and
citation.
Representation
acknowledges the
unfamiliar reader,
provides necessary
context, and
anticipates any
confusions a reader
might have; presents
a fair and accurate
reading of text.
Problems/Questions
For the primary
text: identifies and
articulates a question,
puzzle or dilemma
that instigates the
primary essay and
serves as a foundation
for the argument the
student will borrow
and seek to deepen.
For the student
writer: identifies and
articulates a question,
puzzle, or dilemma
that emerges from the
student writer’s close
reading and
consideration of the
text.
Provides an
overview of all
textual evidence,
but may lean too
heavily on summary
or paraphrase.
Considers an
unfamiliar reader
but has some
contextual gaps.
Generally presents a
fair and accurate
reading of the text,
PT: articulates a
question, puzzle or
dilemma from the
text, though it may
not fully connect to
the argument the
student will borrow
and seek to deepen.
SW: articulates a
question, puzzle, or
dilemma that emerges
from close reading of
the text but does not
Arguments/Ideas
PT: an articulated
argument based on the
student writer’s close
reading of the text;
consideration of the
text’s
problem/question. For
the lens text: an
identified and
articulated argument
from the lens text, one
that has a vivid,
productive conceptual
relationship to the PT.
SW: the student writer,
typically at the end of
the essay, offers and
articulates a clear,
interesting deepened
sense of the PT’s idea
(its problem and
subsequent argument
about that problem).
PT: an argument is
articulated based on the
student writer’s close
reading of the text and
consideration of the
text’s
problem/question,
though it may not be
particularly challenging
or productive. LT: an
argument is identified
and articulated, though
it may not have an
Analysis & Reflection
There is clear,
substantial analysis
(the breaking down and
parsing of evidence;
consideration of
different types of
evidence in order to
identify and represent
larger patterns or
meanings; goes beyond
superficial reading or
description to arrive at
or infer the
significance, meaning,
and implications) and
reflection (SW looks
back over the ideas that
have developed to offer
new insight and
implications).
Organization
There is a discernible and
strong beginning, middle,
and ending. Each
paragraph supports the
articulated problems,
evolving arguments and
developing ideas. There is
logical movement from
one paragraph to the next.
There are productive,
logical transitions
between paragraphs.
Grammar & Mechanics
The essay follows and
makes use of the
conventions of grammar
and academic essay
writing. There are few to
no mistakes in spelling or
punctuation and textual
evidence is cited correctly,
both on the paragraph and
sentence level, as well as
on the Work Cited page.
The essay has a strong,
interesting title that makes
sense in the context of the
essay.
Analysis and reflection
present, though there
are gaps in the essay
where the student writer
leans too heavily on
summary; does not
advance arguments or
develop ideas as fully
as possible.
There is a beginning,
middle, and ending. Each
paragraph relates to and
supports the essay’s
evolving arguments and
developing ideas, but not
every paragraph moves
them forward. The
paragraphs may repeat the
same evidence and ideas.
There may be some
clunky transitions
between paragraphs.
There are occasional errors,
but overall the conventions
of grammar and academic
essay writing are followed.
Textual evidence is cited
properly. There is a
correctly formatted Work
Cited page. The essay has a
strong title.
Mostly Meets
Requirements
& Expectations
Does Not Meet
Requirements
& Expectations
but may have
moments of
misreading.
quite connect
to/extend the primary
text’s argument; may
simply repeat the
PT’s problem.
Assumes knowledge
of the textual
evidence by the
reader and does not
offer adequate
representation or
fair reading of the
text. Makes little
use of textual
evidence, mostly
summary or
paraphrase.
PT: struggles to
identify and articulate
a question, puzzle or
dilemma from the
text. SW: struggles to
ask a productive
question of the
primary text; may
simply repeat the
question of the PT.
Assumes knowledge
of textual evidence
by the reader, offers
little to no context,
Does not pose any
thoughtful questions,
puzzles, of dilemmas
from any text.
especially clear or
productive relationship
to the PT; may align too
closely to the argument
of the PT. SW: the
student writer offers an
idea, though it may too
closely resemble the
PT’s initial argument.
PT: struggles to
identify and articulate a
compelling argument
from the PT; the
argument may not
logically connect to the
previously articulated
problem or question.
LT: struggles to
identify and articulate
an argument; may not
have a conceptual
relationship to the PT;
may be too similar to
the PT’s argument.
SW: struggles to
articulate a deepened
sense of the PT’s
argument (perhaps
because the PT’s
argument was never
properly identified or
articulated).
There are no discernible
or clearly articulated
arguments or ideas in
this essay. The essay
simply summarizes and
Minimal analysis and
reflection present, relies
heavily on summary of
the texts; does not
advance arguments or
develop ideas.
The beginning, middle,
and ending are not quite
discernible (perhaps one
or more is missing). The
paragraphs do not seem to
connect to one another or
consistently support the
essay’s arguments and
ideas. The content of the
paragraphs is redundant.
There are a few, if any,
transitions.
There are several spelling,
grammatical, and
punctuation mistakes
throughout the essay. The
conventions of academic
essay are not closely
followed. Citation errors.
Work Cited page is
incomplete or improperly
formatted. The essay has a
title, but the title may not
be especially interesting.
Little to no analysis or
reflection present.
There is no discernible
order to the paragraphs,
no clear beginning,
middle or ending, and
This paper is incoherent
due to the amount of errors
and lack of academic essay
convention. Work Cited
page is incomplete,
and makes only
passing reference to
the primary and lens
texts.
repeats content from the
texts.
little to no transition
work.
improperly formatted, or
missing. There is no title.
Why We Care about Whales
When the moon gets bored, it kills whales. Blue whales and fin
whales and humpback, sperm, and orca whales: centrifugal forces don’t
discriminate.
With a hushed retreat, the moon pulls waters out from under fins and
flippers, oscillating them backward and forward before they slip outward.
At nighttime, the moon watches its work. Silver light traces the strips of
lingering water, the jittery crabs, the lumps of tangled seaweed.
Slowly, awkwardly, the whales find their footing. They try to fight the
waves, but they can’t fight the moon. They can’t fight the world’s rotation
or the bathymetry of oceans or the inevitability that sometimes things just
don’t work out.
More than two thousand cetaceans die from beaching every year.
Occasionally they trap themselves in solitude, but whales are often beached
in groups, huddled together in clusters and rows. Whales feel cohesion, a
sense of community, of loyalty. The distress call of a lone whale is enough
to prompt its entire pod to rush to its side—a gesture that lands them nose to
nose in the same sand. It’s a fatal symphony of echolocation, a siren call to
the sympathetic.
The death is slow. As mammals of the Cetacea order, whales are
conscious breathers. Inhalation is a choice, an occasional rise to the ocean’s
surface. Although their ancestors lived on land, constant oxygen exposure
overwhelms today’s creatures.
Beached whales become frantic, captives to their hyperventilation.
Most die from dehydration. The salty air shrinks their oily pores, capturing
their moisture. Deprived of the buoyancy water provides, whales can
literally crush themselves to death. Some collapse before they dry out—
their lungs suffocating under their massive bodies—or drown when high
tides cover their blowholes, filling them slowly while they’re too weak to
move. The average whale can’t last more than twenty-four hours on land.
In their final moments, they begin belching and erupting in violent
thrashing. Finally, their jaws open slightly—not all the way, but just enough
that the characteristic illusion of a perpetual smile disappears. This means
it’s over. I know this because I watched as twenty-three whale mouths
unhinged. As twenty-three pairs of whale eyes glazed over.
I had woken up that morning to a triage center outside my window.
Fifty or so pilot whales were lying along the stretch of beach in front of my
house on Cape Cod, surrounded by frenzied neighbors and animal activists.
The Coast Guard had arrived while I was still sleeping, and guardsmen
were already using boats with giant nets in an attempt to pull the massive
bodies back into the water. Volunteers hurried about in groups, digging
trenches around the whales’ heads to cool them off, placing wet towels on
their skin, and forming assembly lines to pour buckets of water on them.
The energy was nervous, confused, and palpably urgent.
Pilot whales are among the most populous of the marine mammals in
the cetacean order. Fully grown males can measure up to twenty feet and
weigh three tons, while females usually reach sixteen feet and 1.5 tons.
Their enormity was their problem. Unlike the three dolphins that had
managed to strand themselves near our house the previous summer, fifty
pilot whales were nearly impossible to maneuver. If unfavorable tidal
currents and topography unite, the larger species may be trapped. Sandbars
sneak up on them, and the tides tie them back.
People are strange about animals. Especially large ones. Daily, on the
docks of Wellfleet Harbor, thousands of fish are scaled, gutted, and
seasoned with thyme and lemon. No one strokes their sides with water. No
one cries when their jaws slip open.
Pilot whales are not an endangered species, yet people spend tens of
thousands of dollars in rescue efforts, trucking the wounded to aquariums
and in some places even airlifting them off beaches. Perhaps the whales’
sheer immensity fosters sympathy. Perhaps the stories of Jonah or Moby
Dick do the same. Or maybe it’s that article we read last week about that
whale in Australia understanding hand signals. Intelligence matters, doesn’t
it? Brain size is important, right? Those whales knew they were dying.
They have some sort of language, some sort of emotion. They give birth,
for God’s sake! There aren’t any pregnant fish in the Wellfleet nets. No
communal understanding of their imminent fatality.
I worry sometimes that humans are afraid of helping humans. There’s
less risk associated with animals, less fear of failure, fear of getting too
involved. In war movies, a thousand soldiers can die gruesomely, but when
the horse is shot, the audience is heartbroken. It’s the My Dog Skip effect.
The Homeward Bound syndrome.
When we hear that the lady on the next street over has cancer, we don’t
see the entire town flock to her house. We push and shove and wet whales
all day, then walk home through town past homeless men curled up on
benches—washed up like whales on the curbsides. Pulled outside by the
moon and struggling for air among the sewers. They’re suffocating too, but
there’s no town assembly line of food. No palpable urgency, no airlifting
plane.
Fifty stranded whales are a tangible crisis with a visible solution.
There’s camaraderie in the process, a Free Willy fantasy, an image of
Flipper in everyone’s mind. There’s nothing romantic about waking up a
man on a park bench and making him walk to a shelter. Little self-righteous
fulfillment comes from sending a check to Oxfam International.
Would there be such a commotion if a man washed up on the beach?
Yes. But stranded humans don’t roll in with the tide—they hide in the
corners and the concrete houses and the plains of exotic countries we’ve
never heard of, dying of diseases we can’t pronounce.
In theory I can say that our resources should be concentrated on saving
human lives, that our SAVE THE WHALES T-shirts should read SAVE THE
STARVING ETHIOPIANS. Logically, it’s an easy argument to make. Why do we
spend so much time caring about animals? Yes, their welfare is important,
but surely that of humans is more so.
Last year a nonprofit spent $10,000 transporting a whale to an
aquarium in Florida, where it died only three days after arriving. That same
$10,000 could have purchased hundreds of thousands of food rations. In
theory, this is easy to say.
But when I was looking in the eye of a dying pilot whale at four in the
morning, my thoughts were not so philosophical. Four hours until high tide.
Keep his skin moist. Just three hours now. There wasn’t time for logic. My
rationality had slipped away with the ebbing dance of the waves.
I had helped all day. We had managed to save twenty-seven of the fifty
whales, but twenty-three others were deemed too far up shore, too old, or
already too close to death. That night, after most of the volunteers had gone
home, I went back outside my bedroom to check on the whales.
It was mid-tide, and the up-shore seaweed still crunched under my
bare feet. The water was rising. The moonlight drifted down on the saltcaked battlefield, reflected in the tiny pools of water and half-shell oysters.
It was easy to spot the living whales. Their bodies, still moist, shone in
the moonlight. I weaved between carcasses, kneeling down beside an old
whale that was breathing deeply and far too rapidly for a healthy pilot.
I put my hands on his nose and placed my face in front of his visible
eye. I knew he was going to die, and he knew he was going to die, and we
both understood that there was nothing either of us could do about it.
Beached whales die on their sides, one eye pressed into the sand, the
other facing up and forced to look at the moon, at the orb that pulled the
water out from under its fins.
There’s no echolocation on land. I imagined dying slowly next to my
mother or a lover, helplessly unable to relay my parting message. I
remember trying to convince myself that everything would be fine. But he
wouldn’t be fine. Just like the homeless man and the Ethiopian aren’t fine.
Perhaps I should have been comforting one of them, placing my hands
on their shoulders. Spending my time and my money and my life saving
those who walked on two legs and spoke without echoes.
The moon pulled the waters forward and backward, then inward and
around my ankles. Before I could find an answer, the whale’s jaw
unclenched, opening slightly around the edges.
174
c
Copyright © 1979. John Wiley & Sons, Incorporated. All rights reserv ed .
d
e
Book 7
“T h en understan d that by the o th e r intelligible segm ent21
I m ean the one that reaso n 22 itself grasps by the pow er o f
dialectic, taking assum ptions n o t as sources, but in the literal
sense—as starting points or rungs— to climb to the u n as
sum ed up to the source o f the w hole, grasp it, and then,
clinging to the consequences clinging to it, climb back dow n
to a final conclusion, using noth in g perceptible at all, but
only form s them selves by them selves to them selves, ending
at form s.”
“ I u n d ersta n d ,” he said, “ though n o t well en o u g h —it
seem s like a gigantic task you’re relating— that you wish to
define the segm ent contem plated by the dialectical knowl
edge o f the intelligible and o f what is23 as being clearer than
the one studied by the so-called sciences,24 w here the o b
servers, though forced to observe with un d erstan d in g in
stead of the senses, treat assum ptions as sources; and since
they exam ine dow n from assum ptions rath e r than up to a
source, they seem to you n o t to have intelligence o f their
subjects, which are, how ever, intelligibles with a governing
source. A nd I think you call the geom etrical or m athem atical
state o f m ind n o t intelligence b u t u n derstandin g , as stan d
ing u n d er intelligence, betw een it and o p in io n .”
“Y ou’ve got it well en o u g h ,” I said. “ Now for these four
segm ents take four states that arise in the soul and give
intellection to the highest segm ent, u n d erstan d in g to the
second, tru st to the third, and im aging to the last.25 A rrange
them in a p ro p o rtio n and reg ard each as participating in as
m uch clarity as its object does tru th .”
“ I understand, concur, and arran g e them as you say.”
Book 7
514
“ N ext,” I said, “ com pare hum an n atu re in its ed ucated
and uneducated state to the follow ing situation: Im agine
21eb in footnote 10.
22Also “argument;” both reason and its operation.
23eb in footnote 10.
24ce in footnote 10.
25eb, ce, dc, and ad respectively in footnote 10. “Imaging” is a
nonce word used to designate the perception of images as images.
Plato. Th e R epublic< /i>, John W ile y & S ons, Inco rp o rate d, 1979. P ro Q u e st E bo o k C entral,
h ttp ://e b o o kce n tra l.p ro q u e st.co m /lib /n yu lib ra ry-e b o o ks/d e ta il.a ctio n 9 d o cl D =1776328.
C reated fro m n yulib ra ry-e b o o ks on 2 0 1 9-06 -1 2 11:57:20.
Copyright © 1979. John Wiley & Sons, Incorporated. All rights reserv ed .
The Republic
175
m en in a cavelike u n d erg ro u n d dw elling with a long e n
trance, as wide as the cave and op en to the light. T h e m en
have been chained foot and neck since childhood. T h e
chains keep them in place and prevent them from tu rning
th eir heads, so that they only see forw ard. Light com es to
them from a fire burn in g at a distance above and behind
them . Betw een the fire and the prisoners, higher than they,
im agine a road with a low wall built alongside, like the screen
set in front o f p u ppeteers, over which they show their p u p
p ets.” 1
“ I see,” said G laucon.
“T h e n see people walking along the ro ad carrying things
on their heads, including figures o f m en and anim als m ade
o f wood, stone, and o th e r m aterials. T h ese extend over the
top o f the wall and, as you m ight expect, som e o f the peo p le
are talking, while others are silent.”
“ S trange is your im age,” he said, “ and your prisoners
stran g e.”
“ Like u s,” I said. “ Do you think such prisoners w ould ever
see anything o f them selves or each o th e r except their shad
ows throw n by the fire on the facing wall o f the cave?”
“ How could they if their heads w ere held still all their
lives?”
“ W hat w ould they see o f the things carried by?”
“T h e sam e.”
“ Now if they could talk to each other, d o n ’t you think
they’d believe what they saw was reality?”
“ Necessarily.”
“W hat if the prison h ad an echo from the front? W hen
ever a passerby spoke, w ouldn’t the p risoners think it was
th e passing shadow that spoke?”
xThe cave would look something like this:
low
wall
prisoners (facing the wall
of the cave)
entrance
fire
wall
road
Plato. Th e R epublic< /i>, John W ile y & S ons, Inco rp o rate d, 1979. P ro Q u e st E bo o k C entral,
h ttp ://e b o o kce n tra l.p ro q u e st.co m /lib /n yu lib ra ry-e b o o ks/d e ta il.a ctio n 9 d o cl D =1776328.
C reated fro m n yulib ra ry-e b o o ks on 2 0 1 9-06 -1 2 11:57:20.
176
c
d
Copyright © 1979. John Wiley & Sons, Incorporated. All rights reserv ed .
e
516
b
Book 7
“T hey certainly w ould.”
“ So m en like th a t,” I said, “ w ould firmly believe tru th to
be the shadows o f artificial o bjects.”
“An absolute necessity,” he said.
“ Now look: w hat if they could be freed from their bonds
and cured o f their u n reaso n by som e natural hap p en in g like
this? O ne is released and suddenly forced to stand up, tu rn
his head, walk and look up to the light o f the fire; all this
causes him pain and the glitter blinds him to the things
w hose shadows he form erly saw— w hat do you think h e ’d say
if som eone told him he used to see n o n sense and now sees
m ore truly because h e ’s tu rn ed to w hat m ore nearly is and
to things m ore nearly real? W hat if the things passing by
w ere poin ted out to him and he was forced to say w hat each
o f them was? D on’t you think h e ’d be baffled and believe that
the things then seen w ere tru e r than the ones now p o in ted
o u t? ”
“ M uch,” he said,
“A nd if forced to look at the light itself, it w ould h u rt his
eyes and h e’d tu rn away and ru n back to the things he could
see, and believe that they w ere in reality clearer than the
ones poin ted o u t.”
“T ru e .”
“ S uppose som eone forcibly dragged him out o f there, up
that steep, rugged incline, and d id n ’t let go till h e ’d dragged
him clear o u t to the light o f the sun. W ouldn’t such treatm ent pain and o utrage him , and the beam s fill his eyes and
m ake him unable to see any o f the things th at now are called
tru e?”
“At first it w ould.”
“ I think h e ’d have to becom e habituated to see th e things
above. At first h e ’d m ost easily m ake out shadows, then
apparitions o f people and things in w ater, then the things
them selves. A fter that h e ’d contem plate the heavenly bodies
and heaven itself by night, finding starlight and m oonlight
easier to look at than sunlight and the su n .”
“ O f course.”
“A nd finally, I think, the sun—n o t an apparition in w ater
o r in som e o th er foreign setting, b u t him self by him self in
his own place— h e ’ll be able to see him and contem plate
w hat h e ’s like.”
Plato. Th e R epublic< /i>, John W ile y & S ons, Inco rp o rate d, 1979. P ro Q u e st E bo o k C entral,
h ttp ://e b o o kce n tra l.p ro q u e st.co m /lib /n yu lib ra ry-e b o o ks/d e ta il.a ctio n 9 d o cl D =1776328.
C reated fro m n yulib ra ry-e b o o ks on 2 0 1 9-06 -1 2 11:57:20.
Copyright © 1979. John Wiley & Sons, Incorporated. All rights reserv ed .
The Republic
177
“ N ecessarily,” he said.
“ And here h e ’ll conclude that this is the giver o f seasons
and years, curator o f all in the visible sphere, the cause
som ehow o f all that he used to see.”
“ Clearly h e ’ll com e upon this after th a t.”
“ W hat if he thinks back on his form er dwelling, on the
‘w isdom ’ there and on his fellow prisoners? W on’t he pity
them and congratulate him self on his transition?”
“Very m uch.”
“ Suppose they conferred offices, honors, and prizes dow n
th ere on the one sharpest at spotting the passing shadows,
at rem em bering which norm ally precede, follow, or accom
pany each other, and at being able to divine from that what
will com e next— do you suppose h e ’d covet such prizes and
strive with the m en holding honors and pow er dow n there,
o r would he with H om er m uch rath e r ‘follow a plow as the
se rf/ o f a land-hungry, indigent p ea san t,’2 and prefer to
suffer anything rath er than conjecture those things and live
like th at?”
“Yes,” he said, “ I think h e ’d suffer anything rath e r than
live like th a t.”
“ Now think about this,” I said: “ If he again w ent down and
sat down in his old place, w ouldn’t darkness fill his eyes after
suddenly com ing in from the sun?”
“ C om pletely.”
“A nd if again he had to ‘evaluate’ those shadows down
th ere in com petition with the p erp etu al prisoners, th en in
that n o t short tim e o f habituation in which his eyes w ere
dim m ed and unrecovered, h e ’d m ake a fool o f himself, and
they’d say he came back from above w ith ruined eyes and the
trip w asn’t even w orth the attem pt. A nd if they could get
th eir hands on the o ne who was trying to release them and
lead them upw ard, w ouldn’t they kill him ?”
“ M ost violently.”
“ T h en take this im age, d ear G laucon, and apply it all to
all that w e’ve said. Liken the p riso n ers’ cave to the region
a p p aren t to sight, and the light o f their fire to the pow er o f
the sun. If you regard the upw ard jo u rn ey and the viewing
2Odyssey 11.489-90 (quoted above, 386c, p. 56). The passage
continues: “than be king over all these exhausted dead” (in the
underworld).
Plato. Th e R epublic< /i>, John W ile y & S ons, Inco rp o rate d, 1979. P ro Q u e st E bo o k C entral,
h ttp ://e b o o kce n tra l.p ro q u e st.co m /lib /n yu lib ra ry-e b o o ks/d e ta il.a ctio n 9 d o cl D =1776328.
C reated fro m n yulib ra ry-e b o o ks on 2 0 1 9-06 -1 2 11:57:20.
c
d
e
517
b
178
c
Copyright © 1979. John Wiley & Sons, Incorporated. All rights reserv ed .
d
e
[8
b
c
Book 7
o f the u p p er world as the soul’s ascent to the intelligible you
w on’t mistake my expectation, which is w hat you w anted to
hear. A god, perhaps, knows if it’s true. But h ere is my
vision: the shape o f the good is finally and with difficulty
seen in the know able3 realm , and w hen seen it m ust be
reckoned the cause o f everything uprig h t and beautiful in
all, begetting in the visible w orld light and the L ord o f Light,
itself the lord giver o f tru th and intelligence in the intelligi
ble world, that which a m an m ust see to act rationally for
him self o r his com m unity.”
“ I assen t,” he said, “ as well as I ’m ab le.”
“T h en assent to this to o ,” I said, “ and d o n ’t be surprised
if the ones who have b een th ere d o n ’t w ant to tend to hum an
concerns, but their souls always strive upw ard to pass tim e
there. I suppose that will happen, if this p art also com ports
with o u r im age.”
“Very likely,” he said.
“ Do you w onder that a m an re tu rn e d from divine co ntem
plations to hum an evils should cut a p o o r figure while still
dazzled and unaccustom ed to the p rese n t darkness? W o n ’t
he look clumsy and ridiculous if forced to conten d in court
o r elsew here about the shadows o f ju stice— or rath e r about
the figurines that throw the shadows— and abou t how m en
in te rp re t them who have never seen ju stice itself?”
“ H e certainly will.”
“ If a p erson has sense h e ’ll rem em ber th at two things
confuse the eyes: m oving from darkness to light and from
light to darkness, and believe that the sam e happens to the
soul. T h erefo re he w on’t thoughtlessly laugh w hen he sees
a soul stunned and unable to see, b u t exam ine w hether it’s
d arkened by unfam iliarity after com ing from a b rig h ter life
o r dazed by the glitter in m oving from d eep er ignorance to
g reater brig h tn ess; th en congratulate the first on its state
and life, b u t pity the other. A nd if he feels like laughing
at it, his laughter w on’t be as contem ptible as w hen a m an
laughs at a soul com e dow n from the light above.”
“T h a t’s quite reasonable.”
“ If it’s true, we m u stn ’t believe that education is as som e
people proclaim : that the soul has no know ledge and they
p u t it in, like sight in blind eyes.”
3= intelligible.
Plato. Th e R epublic< /i>, John W ile y & S ons, Inco rp o rate d, 1979. P ro Q u e st E bo o k C entral,
h ttp ://e b o o kce n tra l.p ro q u e st.co m /lib /n yu lib ra ry-e b o o ks/d e ta il.a ctio n 9 d o cl D =1776328.
C reated fro m n yulib ra ry-e b o o ks on 2 0 1 9-06 -1 2 11:57:20.
Copyright © 1979. John Wiley & Sons, Incorporated. All rights reserv ed .
The Republic
179
“T h at is what they say.”
“ But ou r argum ent indicates that the pow er o f learning
inheres in everyone’s soul. I t’s as if we co u ld n ’t turn o u r eye
from the dark to the bright w ithout turn in g our whole body
around; so here we m ust turn the w hole soul and its organ
o f learning4 away from becom ing until it faces being and can
en d ure contem plating the brightest o f what is. W e call that
th e good, d o n ’t we?”
“Y es.”
“ T h e n ,” I said, “ education w ould be the art o f turnin g this
organ around in the easiest, m ost effective way—not o f im
p lanting sight, which it already has, but o f contriving to tu rn
the organ around to look w here it sh o u ld .”
“ So it seem s,” he said.
“T h e o th er excellences said to belong to the soul are
probably close to those o f the body—really absent at first
and then im planted by habit and practice. But the excellence
o f u nderstanding, it seem s, is definitely som ething m ore
divine; it never loses its pow er, but becom es useful and
helpful or useless and harm ful d ep en d in g on how it’s
tu rned. H ave you ever seen people called wise but vicious?
T h eir little soul peers out shrewdly and keenly discerns
w hatever it’s turned to, as though its sight w ere no t poor.
But since it’s forced to serve evil, the sh arp er it sees the
m ore dam age it d o es.”
“Yes, I have.”
“ If this part o f such a natu re had been ham m ered from
childhood, then the relatives o f becom ing, which grow on to
it th rough eating and sim ilar gluttonous desires and pleasures and turn the soul’s vision dow nw ard, w ould have been
struck from it like lead weights. T h en , rid o f those and
tu rn ed around to things that are true, the eyes o f those same
souls w ould have seen tru th the m ost sharply, ju s t as now
they see sharply w hatever they’re tu rn ed to .”
“ M ost likely,” he said.
“ D oesn’t everything w e’ve said make it bo th likely and
necessary that n either the u n educated with no experience o f
tru th n o r people allowed to continue their education to the
en d will ever adequately m anage a city? T h e uneducated
have no single target in life at which to aim all their activity
4= “eye of the soul,” i.e. mind or intelligence.
Plato. Th e R epublic< /i>, John W ile y & S ons, Inco rp o rate d, 1979. P ro Q u e st E bo o k C entral,
h ttp ://e b o o kce n tra l.p ro q u e st.co m /lib /n yu lib ra ry-e b o o ks/d e ta il.a ctio n 9 d o cl D =1776328.
C reated fro m n yulib ra ry-e b o o ks on 2 0 1 9-06 -1 2 11:57:20.
d
e
519
b
c
180
d
e
Copyright © 1979. John Wiley & Sons, Incorporated. All rights reserv ed .
520
b
c
B ook 7
in public and private; the others w on’t willingly act at all—
while still alive they think they’ve b een settled on the Isles
o f the B lest.”
“ T ru e ,” he said.
“T h en ou r jo b as fo u n d ers,” I said, “ is to force th e best
natures to reach the learning we called the highest— to climb
that ascent and see the good, and w hen they’ve clim bed and
sufficiently seen, not to p erm it them w hat’s perm itted them
now .”
“ W hat?”
“T o linger th ere and refuse to climb back down to those
prisoners and take part in their labors and honors, w hether
serious or trivial.”
“ But w on’t we be doing them an injustice, forcing them
to live a p o o r life w hen they could live a b etter?”
“Y ou’ve forgotten, my friend, that the law d o esn ’t care
about any one class doing exceptionally well, b u t is trying to
devise this for the w hole city by fitting the citizens to g eth er
th ro u g h persuasion and necessity, by m aking them share
w hatever benefit each can co ntribute to the com m on good,
and by engendering beneficial m en in the city—n o t so each
may do as he likes, b u t so the law may use them to bind the
city to g e th er.”
“ Y ou’re rig h t,” he said, “ I had fo rg o tten .”
“ T h en , G laucon,” I said, “ observe that we w on’t be doing
o u r philosophers an injustice—we can justify forcing them
to care for the others as guardians. ‘P hilosophers b o rn into
o th e r cities,’ we’ll say, ‘can reasonably decline to share in the
chores because they’ve arisen spontaneously, against the
will o f their governm ents, and a natural grow th is obligated
to no one for its n u rtu re and has no ju s t d eb t to repay. But
w e’ve bred you like queen bees to lead the hive and your
selves, educated you b e tte r and m ore com pletely than those,
and m ade you m ore capable o f p articipating in b o th tasks,
Down you m ust go, therefore, each in your tu rn to that cave
with the others and accustom yourselves to viewing the
things o f darkness. O nce you do you’ll see them infinitely
b e tte r than they and recognize each p h antom and its origi
nal, because you’ve seen the tru th about ju st, beautiful, and
good things. T hus your city and ours will be governed awake
and no t in a dream as m ost cities now, w hose citizens fight
with each o th er about shadows in civil war over rule, as
Plato. Th e R epublic< /i>, John W ile y & S ons, Inco rp o rate d, 1979. P ro Q u e st E bo o k C entral,
h ttp ://e b o o kce n tra l.p ro q u e st.co m /lib /n yu lib ra ry-e b o o ks/d e ta il.a ctio n 9 d o cl D =1776328.
C reated fro m n yulib ra ry-e b o o ks on 2 0 1 9-06 -1 2 11:57:20.
Copyright © 1979. John Wiley & Sons, Incorporated. All rights reserv ed .
The Republic
181
though rule w ere som e great good. But the tru th is probably
this: A city w hose future rulers are the least ea
