all enquiry and all learning is but recollection. And therefore we ought not to listen to this sophistical argument about the impossibility of enquiry: for it will make us idle; and is sweet only to the sluggard; but the other saying will make us active and inquisitive. In that confiding, I will gladly enquire with you into the nature of virtue. MENO: Yes, Socrates; but what do you mean by saying that we do not learn, and that what we call learning is only a process of recollection? Can you teach me how this is? SOCRATES: I told you, Meno, just now that you were a rogue, and now you ask whether I can teach you, when I am saying that there is no teaching, but only recollection; and thus you imagine that you will involve me in a contradiction. MENO: Indeed, Socrates, I protest that I had no such intention. I only asked the question from habit; but if you can prove to me that what you say is true, I wish that you would. SOCRATES: It will be no easy matter, but I will try to please you to the utmost of my power. Suppose that you call one of your numerous attendants, that I may demonstrate on him. MENO: Certainly. Come hither, boy. SOCRATES: He is Greek, and speaks Greek, does he not? MENO: Yes, indeed; he was born in the house. SOCRATES: Attend now to the questions which I ask him, and observe whether he learns of me or only remembers. MENO: I will.
— Plato
Socrates is about to question a slave boy about geometry, and the whole maneuver depends on a sleight of hand that Plato passes off as philosophy's foundation. The boy will answer correctly — led, prompted, corrected by a teacher who insists he is not teaching — and this will be offered as proof that the soul already contains what it appears to learn. Anamnesis. Recollection. The soul ascending back toward what it always already knew.
Notice what this doctrine does to suffering. If knowledge is recollection, then the soul's disorientation is not a genuine wound — it is a forgetting, temporary, correctable by the right questions asked in the right order. The soul was never really lost. The darkness is not constitutive of what the soul is; it is merely what obscures the light the soul carries home inside itself. This is the pneumatic logic in its most elegant early form: the self in its highest truth is already complete, already luminous, needing only to be reminded.
What Plato cannot account for — what this passage cannot account for — is the soul that answers wrongly and stays wrong, that is questioned and grows more confused, that carries no geometry inside it, only weather. The slave boy demonstrates recollection only because Socrates controls every question. The argument for the immortal soul was built on a demonstration that was never quite free.
Plato·Meno·-385