Knowledge Without the Body

"And what about things like this, Simmias? Do we say that there is such a thing as the just itself, or not?"

"We certainly do, by Zeus."

"And the beautiful, and the good?"

"Of course."

"And have you ever seen any of these things with your eyes?"

"Never," said he.

"Or have you grasped them with any other of the bodily senses? I mean all things of this kind — for example, largeness, health, strength — and, in a word, the being of all the rest: what each of them actually 65e is. Is it through the body that the truest part of them is contemplated? Or is it like this: whoever of us prepares himself most fully and most precisely to think of each thing itself that he is examining will come nearest to the knowledge of each?"¹

"Certainly."

"And would not that man do this most purely who approaches each thing, as far as possible, with thought alone, neither bringing sight into his thinking nor 66a dragging any other sense along with his reasoning, but who, using pure thought alone by itself, tries to track down each of the realities, pure and alone by itself? He would rid himself as far as he can of eyes and ears and, so to speak, of the whole body, since it disturbs the soul and does not allow it to gain truth and wisdom whenever it is in partnership with it. Is it not this man, Simmias, if anyone, who will attain reality?"

"What you say is supremely true, Socrates," said Simmias.

66b "Then from all this," he said, "genuine philosophers must come to some such belief, and say to one another something like this: 'It seems that there is a kind of path to guide us, since, as long as we have the body and our soul is mixed up with such an evil, we shall never sufficiently attain what we desire; and that, we say, is the truth. The body keeps us busy in countless ways because of its need for 66c food; and if any diseases attack it, they hinder our hunt for reality. It fills us with loves and desires and fears, with all kinds of phantoms and a great deal of nonsense, so that, as the saying goes, because of it we really never have the chance to think of anything at all. Wars and factions and battles are caused by nothing else but the body and its desires; for all wars are fought for the sake of gaining wealth, 66d and we are forced to gain wealth because of the body, slaves as we are to its service. Because of all this we have no leisure for philosophy. And worst of all, if we do get some leisure from it and turn to examine something, it intrudes everywhere in our inquiries, causing uproar and confusion and dismay, so that because of it we cannot see the truth. It has really been shown to us that if we are ever to know anything purely, 66e we must be rid of the body and look at things themselves with the soul itself. And then, it seems, we shall have what we desire and what we say we are lovers of, wisdom — when we have died, as the argument shows, but not while we live.

"'For if it is impossible to know anything purely in company with the body, one of two things must follow: either knowledge is nowhere to be gained, or only when we have died; 67a for then the soul will be alone by itself, apart from the body, but not before. And while we live, it seems that we shall be nearest to knowledge if, as far as possible, we have no dealings with the body and no partnership with it beyond what is absolutely necessary, and are not infected with its nature, but keep ourselves pure of it until the god himself sets us free. And being thus pure and rid of the body's folly, we shall in all likelihood be among others like ourselves, and shall know through our 67b own selves all that is pure — and that, perhaps, is the truth; for it may well be that the impure is not permitted to lay hold of the pure.' Such are the things, Simmias, that I think all who are rightly lovers of learning must say to one another and believe. Or do you not think so?"

"More than anything, Socrates."

1. Here, for the first time in the dialogue, Socrates speaks of what came to be called the Forms or Ideas: the just itself, the beautiful itself, the good itself, grasped by thought and not by the senses. ↩