Plato Through His Mouthpiece Socrates example essay topic

At the beginning of Book I, we are introduced to the narrator, Socrates, and his audience of peers. We are made aware, however, of Socrates's pe cial charm and intellectual gifts through the insistence of Polemarchus and the other men for the pleasure of his company. The tone is casual and language and modes of expression rather simple, as is commonly the case in Plato's dialogues. However, Plato's unaffected style serves at least two purposes. For one it belies the complexity and elevation of the ideas, thus it is in accord with Socrates' characteristic irony itself, which draws the 'fool' in by feigned ignorance, only so that the master can show that he does not know what he thinks he knows.

And second, the plainness of style complements truth and wisdom, the aim of all the dialogues, which by nature are aphoristic. In Socrates' conversation with Cephalus, the proper approach to aging and the state of old age is addressed. Although other men Cephalus' age commonly complain that for them, 'life is no longer life,' Cephalus feels that they misattribute discomfort and unhappiness resulting from their defective characters to advanced age. Building on a statement by Sophocles, Cephalus concludes, 'he who is of a calm and happy nature will hardly feel the pressure of age. ' Socrates' inquiry as to whether Cephalus' happiness owes to the comfort of wealth demands a qualification of this position? That while a man's nature ultimately determines his peace of mind in old age; wealth is also an undeniably important factor.

The passage concerning justice illustrates Socrates' dexterous intellect and his dogged skepticism. Playful and humorous at times, the conversation ends, at several points, in absurd -- and apparently inexorable -- conclusions such as that the just man is a thief. What is at work here is another type of irony, in which Socrates and his auditors accept as a temporary resolution what the dialogue's audience, i.e. the reader, cannot. Here, Plato grants the reader space to think for himself. A central problem with Polemarchus' definition (borrowed from Simonides) a form of conventional morality of justice, 'doing good to your friends and harm to your enemies,' is the vulnerability of its individual terms. Not surprisingly, Socrates probes each one, exposing any and all weaknesses or limitations in pursuit of Truth.

It is precisely this meticulousness that leads Thrasymachus to accuse Socrates of never answering questions. Socrates' response (another question) clarifies his epistemology: 'how can anyone answer who knows, and says that he knows, just nothing? ?' What Socrates' knows is incommunicable other than to say that he knows nothing. His philosophical speculations embody a process rather than a philosophy. That is, Socrates' method is in accord with the nature of inquiry and of intellectual exploration itself: he is his style. And, acutely aware of this fact, Socrates repels every temptation toward dogma, characterized by Thrasymachus' complaints.

The second definition of justice, obedience to the interest of the stronger, is Thrasymachus' veiled justification for tyranny (might is right), and is foreshadowed in his indecorous demand for payment. He is portrayed in sharp contrast to Socrates, who suggests that the stronger may not always know his own interest; therefore, at times, it is necessary for the weaker to disobey him. Socrates then successfully upsets the definition by demonstrating that, insofar as his role is an art, a ruler acts in the best interest of his subjects, as exemplified by the physician for his patients and the captain for his crew. Still unresolved, the debate moves into a second stage, where tyranny, or perfect injustice, and benevolent rule, or perfect justice, are evaluated against one another. Again, through a series of examples, Socrates prevails -- the unjust man's pride and ambition are shown to be weaknesses, since he is incapable of singular as well as common action, while on the other hand the just man is humble, wise, and strong. For his own pleasure, Socrates carries the debate into a final stage, in order to prove that the aim of a man's life should be justice not injustice.

Socrates uses the analogy of the soul, considering its proper functions and its end. If the souls' end is life, Socrates says, and its excellence, or perfect execution of that end, is the fulfillment of life, then justice is the excellence of the soul because, as he had revealed earlier, the just man enjoys better quality of life. Although it would seem that Socrates' conclusion, that he still knows nothing about the nature of justice, is merely facetious, it is not. In the course of the dialogue, the philosophers have studied justice's manifestations only when, in truth, it is an abstract concept, an ideal, or a form, and according to Plato, belongs to a category or realm outside and beyond definition. Therefore, justice is unknowable as such.

The dialogue of the second book is more an intellectual exercise than the previous book, since Glaucon takes a position contrary to his own (in fact, it is Thrasymachus') for the sake of argument, and so that they might arrive at a more satisfying conclusion. Therefore, he poses the allegory of the shepherd. The allegory suggests that, magically freed of legal / social responsibility (invisibility), any man would act unjustly and seek power. Adeimantus' injection of poetry from Aeschylus, Hesiod, and Homer as endorsing the rewards and relative ease of injustice over justice complements his brother's legalistic argument. He is drawing on their shared cultural tradition, in which he can find no convincing example of justice pursued as an end in itself and not merely as a means, in this life or the next, to an end. The deceptive, disappointing worth of poetry is a theme to be explored in depth later (the final conclusion occurs in Book X).

What he wants from Socrates is 'the essential good and evil which justice and injustice work in the possessors of them. ' Socrates' method of approach consists first of the construction of a State in which justice will be tried against injustice, and, second, of the trial of the just individual. The first part is a massive undertaking, and the proper origin of the Republic a state that arises 'out of the needs of mankind. ' The assumption (and it is one) is extremely important; it shall be the foundation of the Republic. In order to ensure the basic needs of man, Socrates would assign each man in his burgeoning State a single occupation that suits his natural inclination, instead of leave every man to work separately for his every need. Furthermore, these occupations would be done at the right time in order to avoid waste.

The division in the education of the guardians of the State, between music and gymnastics, was traditional even in classical antiquity. It probably represents the archaic notion of the mind / body schism. Noteworthy is Socrates' prohibition on fiction, or at least on poorly composed fiction. He feels that in their formative years, the guardians should not be exposed to misleading or pernicious fictions.

Although he provisionally accepts fiction with an explicit moral, he condemns all poetry and literature, even parts of Homer and Hesiod, that depicts an undesirable or fallacious story. Socrates believes that in youth the guardians should be protected as much as possible from untruths they cannot evaluate critically for themselves. The problem with this position seems to be its one-sidedness. Working to curb lies and harmful fictions is admirable, but complete eradication is impossible, right? Normally, we think of fiction as conveying new information before it can be digested rationally and evaluated morally.

It thus seems more realistic to debunk 'bad fiction' for the young guardians, explain its failings to them, and, therefore, cancel its circulation while making it identifiable in the future. However, the painstakingly precise and rigid education process will, Plato believes, once and for all eliminate the need for fiction. Socrates's pi ritual principles conflict to some extent with the religious beliefs of his time. He suggests a transcendent God who scarcely resembles Zeus or any other Olympian. Instead, his God is the origin of all things, complete, immutable, perfect, and good.

The argument for God as good only does not hold up unless we read Socrates' good as potentially good, or perfect, as we shall later read justice. This accepted, it is easier to understand how Socrates can separate God from evil; his position is that evil appears only in the manifest, in the limited sense, and certainly not in the ideal, where we find God. That these principles are made law is nothing less than revolutionary; it discredits nearly all of Classical Greek mythology and folklore. But that, as we know, is hardly the realm of pure reason and truth; and if it is not beyond reproach, it cannot possibly be permitted to shore the State's theology, nor serve as the origin of its laws. In his critique of poetry and fiction, Socrates advances a new approach to art and literature, at least within the parameters of State building. For the better education of the guardians, Socrates condones the systematic revision of great imaginative works in order to rectify their moral content, presumably according to virtues (courage, truth, temperance), or behavioral manifestations of the justice that is yet to be defined.

In the State, it will also be necessary to censor artists and poets composing in the present, so that what has been eliminated in the past does not reoccur in the future. Beauty and pleasure for their own sake are disallowed, as well as laughter. Although the education of the guardians appears excessively rigid and ascetic, it must be remembered that the guardians are also the State's most important, that is, fully responsible, citizens; and, therefore, no possible corruption can be overlooked. Socrates' argument is vulnerable, however, in its short-sightedness. By isolating passages from great works such as the Odyssey and the Iliad, and criticizing them, Socrates fails to recognize that, taken whole, they are, in fact, moral and profitable to the guardians. The works are not only ultimately moral, they are also present and dramatize the inevitable interplay between good and evil (moral and immoral) in a living, imaginary model.

Unlike the education Socrates is devising, works of art eschew a simple and one-sided selection of good moral behavior in favor of a fair mix of both the real and the didactic. The difficulty Adeimantus at first has understanding Socrates's e gue onto the topic of style ironically underscores the problem of style itself: clarity. Thus Socrates endorses a simple, but not simplistic, style. As the purgation continues, he relieves the State of its musical and artistic luxuries that, like the earlier excesses in food, clothing, shelter, and literature, damage its integrity. Physical education not only consists of exercise and training; it is also a philosophy of the body. Socrates' is particularly adamant in his opinions on health and illness; he is an elite, 'survival of the fittest,' mentality.

But what he is constructing is not a reformed State, it is an ideal State; and, for that, he must have elite citizens, and especially guardians. The effect of the complete, twofold education, Socrates illustrates metaphorically, is that the principles may be relaxed or tightened as befits optimal harmony. The Phoenician tale allegorizes the necessity for social stability and hierarchy based on individual character. It is one of the excusable, useful fictions with which Socrates privileges the rulers of the State.

Character is notoriously difficult to define, though not to describe in narrative or myth; therefore, Socrates' decision to 'lie' to the citizens for their own benefit is merely an attempt to place in narrative form the founding principles of the State to make them accessible. That each man embodies a mixture of metals describing his social value is easily grasped by all citizens. Adeimantus' early objection falls into the category of luxury, where an object no longer only serves its purpose, but has become an end in itself. His complaint for the perceived lack of enjoyment in the lives of the guardians, while human, has no place in the debate at this point. Guardians are objectified, in the sense that they have an essential role, or purpose within the State, and are educated and trained to serve its greater causes. Throughout the discourse on guardians, defense, and legislature, Plato, through his mouthpiece Socrates, continually reiterates the importance of education, of the harmonious balance between music and gymnastics that will guide the citizens through life.

This emphasis should not be ignored. Plato places great, if not primary, value on education. The prudent, early nurturing citizens of the State receive readies them for smaller tasks that Socrates admits in the dialogue he has no time to address. It is the carefully prepared wool ground, Socrates illustrates in an extended metaphor, on which the dyer sets his vivid colors. Plato's famous Academy, ancient prototype for the university, was constructed with the same principles in mind. Socrates reveals justice at work in the State through a process of elimination.

But, in fact, as Socrates himself notes, it was built into the State from the beginning. That each man practice what he is best adapted to was one of the State's very basic provisions. It is the archaic formulation of Immanuel Kant's marriage of the object with its purpose. But if this justice, then it seems grossly oversimplified, since a man is capable of performing a multiplicity of tasks well, and is not described by his occupation only. Socrates, however, is not finished yet.

The parallel between State and individual that had been slowly and surreptitiously developing through the last three dialogues comes into full view at the end of Book IV. It was Socrates' plan to construct the perfect State first which they profess to have done, and then to examine an individual citizen of the State, in order to 'define' justice. Finally Socrates divulges his parallel. The State is the macrocosm of the individual; they share one another's principles. Socrates has 'proven' the existence of justice in the State; therefore, since the faculties of the individual correspond on a smaller scale to those of the State, justice must also exist in the individual.

Not surprisingly, Socrates pushes on, showing how justice for the individual is the realization of an internal harmony among his own disparate parts his reason, appetite, and spirit. Part One: Matrimony If Plato's ideas about women are relatively modern, his system of community and matrimony is frighteningly futuristic, even now, over two millennia later. Socrates advances the system's position using analogies from hawk, horse, and dog breeding. Although he concedes before beginning that many will find it ludicrous, the fact is, it is less ludicrous than disturbing. Would it be best for human beings to be bred? From Socrates' point of view, and accepting his presuppositions as they are, the answer is affirmative.

Is it possible? we ask next, and join the apprehensive auditors. Definitively, no. But why not? Because, in short, it is too rigorously controlled; it must be instituted from a true beginning; and it must develop in abject isolation.

The same obstacles apply to the economic plan, also communistic, that Socrates devises; in order to succeed, it would require a redistribution of property and wealth (or a fertile, unexplored, deserted island), which has never been done. Yet again we remind ourselves we are in the realm of speculation. Part Two: Philosophy The third and greatest wave Socrates is forced to meet introduces two famous and essential concepts: the theory of ideals, or forms, and the philosopher-king. The theory of forms manifests itself in Socrates' resistance to address possibility. It is dangerous for Socrates to comply with the entreaties of his auditors because his ideals, when made relative or manifest, shrink to mere versions of themselves and are no longer complete.

Stalling to the last, however, Socrates eventually shares with them exactly how a state such as theirs can best be put in action. The unlikely method: replace rulers with philosophers, or convince politicians to study philosophy. The theory of forms continues to develop under the auspices of the discussion of philosophy and the philosopher. Plato's epistemology is basically divided into three categories: non-being, manifest, and being. The sphere of non-being, or the nothing, belongs to the ignorant man; manifestation to the opinionated man; and being, of course, to the philosopher.

The philosopher's mind, according to Plato, inhabits the highest and noblest sphere, the home of the forms, and ceaselessly aspires for truth and light. At this point in The Republic, Plato begins the transition from the pure philosophy and state-building of the early books into the portrayals of the five types of people that comprise the middle books. Although Plato's argument favoring the superiority of justice over injustice would seem to have been resolved in Book IV, the dialogue has obviously not been concluded. Unconvinced in some way, Plato now directs the inquiries into more practical, political philosophy and even psychology. We move also from the individual as a general category to a set of very specific individuals. The reason Socrates is so unenthusiastic about moving from philosophy to political and social philosophy proper is exemplified in the demands of auditors for possibility, or practical application, especially in his conception of communal living.

Once Socrates descends from philosophical elevation, he must descend completely, and this means that, for better or worse, his ideas will now be limited, not to mention tried and tested pragmatically. The parable of the true pilot illustrates the discrepancy existing between leadership in a particular field and mastery of the art of that particular field. In the parable, the mutinous sailors do not recognize their pilot's command of his art; on the contrary, they believe that the sailor with the most charisma, strength, or desire to lead should lead, and so overthrow the true pilot. Socrates' point is that whoever is best trained in sailing, should pilot, just as the best trained in the art of ruling, should rule. But in practice (politics), sadly, this is not the case: the wrongheaded sailors pilot and politicians, not philosophers, govern. Similarly, Socrates' analogy of the mighty beast criticizes the majority, or mass, notion of morality.

What is the opinion of most men, in fact, of the world, is almost always not the opinion or should we say, knowledge of the philosophers. The masses are neither wise, nor temperate, nor courageous; as a result, their desires do not reflect the good. And thus, because the true philosophers must hold to a minority truth or renounce their nature, they are condemned to persecution by the multitudes the very people that need them the most. The suggestion that a state and a tradition can be rubbed clean to make way for philosophic rule is ludicrous; it would inevitably result in chaos and disaster. The alternative, that kings become philosophers, on the other hand, appears more reasonable, since it works within the tradition and existing state itself to effect its change and improvement. From the last part of Book VI, we see that Plato is not finished with the good, nor will he dispense with it here, nor will he ever, really.

Is it pleasure or knowledge? The analogy of vision, visibility, and light, representing knower, known, and that which makes knowing possible, helps us understand the relationship between the philosopher and the good. Seeing the light is coming into knowledge of the good. But what is the good? It is that which enables; in other words, it is, symbolically, light itself. Plato instructs: just as the eye and that which the eyes perceives are not the sun, neither is the good the knower, nor is it knowledge.

The good is an ideal, while the knowledge of it is possible only in its manifestations, in Forms. The good, like the sun, both illuminates and nurtures, though its object is the soul and not the earth. Plato further clarifies the distinction between his two realms, the visible and the intelligible. This, we surely recognize by now, is the famous, doctrine of idealism, the Theory of Forms.

What is visible, Plato tells us, is only a shadow or reflection of the truth. He subdivides the two realms, visible and intelligible, into two more unequal halves. For the intelligible, this means that in one half reside the hypotheses or arguments used to approach the other half, the ideas or ideals themselves. The dialectic, Plato goes on, uses such hypotheses as a staircase on which to ascend to the highest level that of the good. Finally, the four faculties of the soul, it should be noted, correspond numerically to and are in balance with the four virtues. The Republic's most famous allegory, designed to encapsulate Plato's Theory of Forms, the Allegory of the Cave is evidence for not only philosophic genius, but imaginative genius as well.

A summary interpretation of the allegory's meaning cannot be better or more concisely stated than in Socrates' addition: 'the prison-house is the world of sight, the light of the fire is the sun, and you will not misapprehend me if you interpret the journey upward to be the ascent of the soul into the intellectual world?' So, to be very clear on one point of possible confusion, the blinding sun of the allegory is not the real sun, but a symbol for the good. The concept of duty and service are addressed in response to the objection raised by Glaucon. While contemporary philosophers are, for the most part, self-taught, they have no obligation to serve their state; however, the guardians are nurtured and educated, that is, liberated, by the State they are unshackled. Therefore, and if their probity is not enough to dictate for them, compulsory service to that which has made them what they are is just. The unique quality of arithmetic is its capacity to differentiate and unify at the same time; for example, the number one is both singular and infinite (i.e. between 0 and 1 lie an infinite multitude of numbers [fractions]). Platonic ideals are commensurate, in this mode, with abstract numbers, while calculations of five apples, for instance work with actual manifestations.

Mathematical sciences join Plato's educational curriculum only so far as they remain fixed on the proper goal: the ascertainment of being and not becoming. But dialectic is superior to all of them in that it has no hypotheses, no presuppositions. It is worth reproducing here the following syllogisms as found in the text: 'As being is to becoming, so is pure intellect to opinion. And as intellect is to opinion, so is science to belief, and understanding to the perception of shadows. ' The guardians must master dialectic and be able to employ it to grasp the good. In the course of the dialogue, Plato has constructed the fundamental outline of the liberal arts education offered by most contemporary universities, whose pedagogy descend from Plato's Academy.

The long and arduous road to becoming a ruler of the State begins with informal intellectual stimulation. Plato advances the position of early learning as amusement, so as not to discourage children from it. Gradually, the most promising children are tested; those who succeed, move onward. The education and training of a guardian is a combination of the different types of knowledge and experience available to human beings, from the purely speculative and academic to the experiential.

In this way, the guardian emerges, after fifty fully realized years, the only person capable and worthy of ruling the ideal State. He (or she) is, in Plato's terms, the perfect, or at least the complete and just, ruler the philosopher-king, just as the State can be the only truly just state. The timocratic State (or government of honor) arises from the ideal when there is discord. Socrates creates a suitable discord in their State by projecting a future mistake in population control. But this mistake is treated satirically, not seriously; and Plato is, perhaps mendaciously, protecting his investment. The problem of controlling nature, duly acknowledged by Plato in the passage, is, in fact, a very real and insurmountable obstacle the State faces in practice.

By satirizing it, Plato degrades the difficulty unfairly. Timocracy is the result of the intermixing of races (gold and silver with iron and brass, etc.) and the unbalancing of education in favor of gymnasium over music. Plato provides a delightful and credible psycho-social portrayal of the timocratic man as torn between a father of philosophic and noble temperament and a mother and society moving more and more toward materialistic ends. Oligarchy (wealth and property) is the tipping of the balance over into abject greed and materialism. Class division between rich and poor immediately appear; and for Plato, any division is negative and a sign of injustice. The oligarchic man's chief concern is acquisition; only vanity and regard for his status in the community prevent him from roguery.

The final blow to the security of the fattened democratic rulers is the perception by the middle or poor man that his governor is a coward. The rulers of a democracy tend toward extravagance and thus are softened physically and mentally. All that needs happen, Plato writes, is for enough of the underclass to see the debility of their superiors' in action; or, alternatively, an outside force a new party, for example may do the same incendiary work. Plato's critique of democracy is highly ironic at first. Then the moral is exposed. What democracy theoretically stands for: freedom, variety, individuality, is in reality an equality of unequal's.

It is based on the presumption that, in modern terms, all men are created equal. Plato has throughout the entire book rejected this as a premise. Instead of supposing every man is innately good, Plato holds that every man has a right to pursue the good. Because the democratic man forfeits the leadership of both reason and soul, he is subject to the caprices of the appetites. He is scattered the opposite of the uniformly integrated man, the man under rule of reason, the philosopher. How freedom engenders tyranny is rather complicated, and hinges on intrigue, deception, and misunderstanding.

Since the rulers are neither rich nor poor (nor competent), they are forced to constantly switch allegiances between their two benefactors, of which the rich are, obviously, the more financially valuable, while the poor are the more quantitatively valuable. As a result of some misunderstanding, the magistrates are variously accused and, eventually, overthrown by the poor. The poor then chooses a champion who promises the abolition of debts, etc. This champion inevitably realizes his power, the angry mob, and uses it for personal ends namely, power and wealth; thus is born the tyrant. The tyrant utterly abuses his position; in fact, he must abuse it or face pain of death.

He enters a race against his opponents; he enters wars so that he may have a reason to lead; he taxes; he surrounds himself with guardians; and, finally, he robs the elders of the State, who have conserved their money in the oligarchic fashion. The lesson of the tyrant, as it comes from Plato, is that the illusion of unlimited freedom in a democracy makes the slavish limitation of tyranny possible. Having no moral restraints, no conception of the good, the tyrant need not obey laws nor any other formal or public injunctions against his behavior. Unlimited freedom, as Dostoyevsky warns, means 'everything is permitted. ' The tyrant is the injustice incarnate.

Although the tyrant appears to have unlimited freedom, ultimately, he is ruled by his appetites and is a slave to them. He is the 'beast' of human nature, as Plato terms it, and the very worst kind of man. Further he is miserable, because he will never have peace; he must live in constant fear. The morals he puts into practice in order to gain power will inevitably be used to depose him. He must be overthrown by his subjects or his offspring (if he does not destroy them first) just as he overthrew his own father. Because of his insatiable lusting, the tyrant is condemned to the public life that in turn makes a slave of him.

He needs money and resources far beyond his own means to indulge his appetites; thus he enters public life. But his subjects understandably come to hate him, and the tyrant must constantly exploit without letting on that he is exploiting, or kill. A judgment as to the nature of the pleasures each type of man, born of the three components of the soul: reason, affect, appetite, is the logical next step in the philosopher's overarching argument. We remember that he has been after proof of the superiority of justice to injustice from the beginning. Adjudicating on the premise that depth and breadth of experience is pleasure, the philosopher is declared victor he has what the others have and more. Plato argues that pleasure and pain, since they are correlative and dis unified, are only the manifestations of an alternative, transcendent state, which he dubs rest.

Although there are pleasures that are good in themselves, smell is Plato's example, most pleasure, especially violent ones, cause or escape from pain. Likewise many pains can be considered as the absence of pleasure, e.g. desire. The rest state, however, is immutable, the eternal present, and is achieved through the acquisition of wisdom only, not honor or wealth as per the others. Rest is similar to the Buddhist doctrine of not-desiring; when one desires nothing, there is no pain. The figure of the ideal soul is simply another form of illustration employed by Plato, in the same vein as a parable. The unjust man, who indulges his beastly inner nature, cannot keep up appearances forever: his peers must eventually know his faults and condemn him.

The man guided by wisdom lives pleasantly in a State of the mind in fact, a divine State, in harmony with the Ideal, and irrespective of any State found on earth. He enjoys an inner peace unattainable by another path. The argument presented against poetic imitation is, however arduously maintained, not entirely convincing. Plato believes poetic knowledge to be of appearances only because, were it otherwise, the poet would dedicate himself to 'realities' not 'imitations,' or images. The poet knows no trade and produce nothing of real, that is, necessary value. In fact, Plato's portrait of the artist makes him seem superfluous.

Plato's second objection is that the artist knowingly manipulates the passions of his audience. In a purely rational State, there is no room for the stirring up of 'evil constitutions,' nor the retelling of misfortunes or misadventures in the past. What lies behind Plato's dislike of maudlin dramas or even great tragedy is his conviction that the audience will identify with and in turn imitate whatever it sees. The immortality of the soul, for Plato, does not depend on the justice and cannot be destroyed even as the body is destroyed. Its fate, on the other hand, is contingent upon its relationship with the good; it feeds and nourishes itself on the wisdom. The souls of the wicked are a more complicated issue, for, insofar as they are immortal, evil cannot destroy them.

However, Plato warns, there are various manifest parts to the soul, and evil-doing damages these. And unjust men also injure their own bodies and the bodies of others. In any case the afterlife is what is most important; there the good soul enjoys the benefits it may or may not have experienced in life. The moral of the tale of Er, if we may drain it of its color, is that of the eternal return, or recurrence. After death the soul is ultimately judged. This judgment determines the owner of the soul's order of choice in lots for the next life.

Then, whatever wisdom he has accumulated previously helps him make his choice when his lot comes up. Both moments are essential because they represent choices between good and evil. One is an ongoing choice, alive in mortal life, and the other is the ultimate choice the sum of what the soul has learned in life. Man is responsible for his own behavior, says Plato.

And the final twist is that, it seems, the wise man does not really forget, since if he is truly wise he will choose yet another wise existence.