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A broad thinker and the world he left us
- By Dr. Jim Denison
- Published 01/27/2006
- Issue of the Week
We're only a shadow of ourselves
Plato thought that you and I inhabit a world which is but a shadow of the real world. Here's why.
We're in bad hands
Plato was convinced by Socrates that the objective Good exists. But he couldn't find it anywhere in this corrupted, decadent world. And so he concluded that it must exist someplace outside the material universe. But where? Borrowing from the Pythagoreans their Orphic belief that the soul is a fallen, preincarnate god, he found his answer.
According to Plato, a world of eternal, unchanging, perfect realities exists, but in the realm of ideas, not physicality. This "place" he called the world of Forms or Ideas. It must by definition be separate from the sensible world, and is known only to the intellect. These Forms are unchanging realities, and the only objects worth knowing.
What of our changing, non-ideal (literally) world of experience? It is only a shadow of the Forms, a physical and thus imperfect reflection of the Ideas it represents. The way to escape the shadows and experience the Forms is through philosophy (naturally), specifically by seeking the true, universal definition of a thing or experience. When we understand an entity in its perfect, unchanging essence, we have glimpsed the Form which it reflects.
We need an example, preferably as mundane as possible. So, consider the fingers with which you type on your computer. What is unique or at least unusual about your hands? (fingerprints, shape, etc.). What is the unchanging essence of the "perfect" hands? You are this moment contemplating the Form of hands, of which your physical appendages are but a poor representative. Just as a shadow is not the real thing, so your hands are not real in themselves. Alas, they only copy the ideal hands you have discovered by philosophical reflection. And they are not the way you wish they were (ask any arthritic).
How did we get in this sorry state of affairs? Remember Orpheus' strange idea that our souls "sinned" in their pre-mortal existence and are punished by being put in such fallen hands (and eyes, and ears). Pythagoras believed Orpheus, and Plato believed Pythagoras. You may not believe Plato, but millions of people for eight centuries did.
Here is Plato's most popular illustration of our world of shadows. Imagine that you are exploring some caves in a park. You walk into one very strange cavern, finding inside a group of people who are chained to the back wall. Their captors have arranged things so that these unfortunate people cannot turn their heads to see behind themselves. Thus they do not see you, or even know that a "you" might exist. The only world they can see is the back wall they face. Behind them roars a giant fire, casting their shadows on this wall. Because they have lived their entire lives seeing only these shadows, they assume them to be all the world there is. But you know better. You want to unchain them and show them the larger world they cannot see. So did Plato.
How do we rattle such chains?
Remembering what you know
Plato is sure that your soul not only lived once in the world of Forms, but can remember it (with a little help). When you contemplate the beautiful, or reflect on the ideal, your soul is reminded of that perfect Idea it once knew. This is the theory of "anamnesis" ("remembering"), and it constitutes the first epistemology (theory of knowledge) in Western history.
To help your soul remember its roots, you need a little discipline. Plato offers these helpful hints. He thinks that your intellect is the rightful ruler of your soul, aided with the higher emotions (such as love, nobility, sacrifice, and the like). However, the lower emotions of lust and pride want to hijack the whole enterprise. So you must discipline your soul through the use of reason and logic, temperance and virtue.
Plato likens your soul to a charioteer (your mind) and two horses (the higher emotions, which help steer, and the lower emotions, which want to take the whole thing into the ditch). So long as your thoughts and feelings take the high road, so to speak, all is well.
Let's try this theory out. Think for a moment about the table at which you are sitting, or last sat. Who thought of such an odd idea as a piece of wood held up by four others? How did he or she come to design the first such thing? What design did the builder attempt to execute? Probably a more perfect table than you are seeing or remembering right now. That "ideal" table was composed of a perfect rectangle, supported by perfectly designed and created legs. But such perfection is impossible in this world of imperfect wood, nails, and hands.
So where did such a perfect design come from? Not visual, physical experience, for no such entity exists. If Plato is right, the first architect of the first perfect table contemplated the idea of "tableness," if you will. Such contemplation caused his or her soul to remember the "idea" of the perfect table. The result was a design only imperfectly executed in wood.
The only hope for us in this flawed world is that our souls can also remember the unchanging moral standards which regulate life in the world of Forms. An absolute morality, learned from Socrates, permeates Plato's world view. But that morality has no reference in God or our personal relationship with him, for reasons we'll soon examine.
Why does any of this matter to you and me today? For this simple and important reason: if Plato is right, the way Christians see God, themselves, and their world is wrong. Tragically, for nearly five hundred years the church saw God through Plato's eyes, not Plato through God's. And we're still paying for that mistake today.
Let's see why, and how.
