In Plato’s theory of epistemology, anamnesis (/ˌænæmˈniːsɪs/; Ancient Greek: ἀνάμνησις, meaning “memory“) refers to the recollection of innate knowledge acquired before birth. The concept posits the claim that learning involves the act of rediscovering knowledge from within oneself. This stands in stark contrast to the opposing doctrine known as empiricism, which posits that all knowledge is derived from experience and sensory perception. Plato develops the theory of anamnesis in his Socratic dialogues: Meno, Phaedo, and Phaedrus.
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Socrates: Tell me, Plato, we have gathered many accounts concerning knowledge—some say it is remembered, others that it is acquired. Which shall we trust?
Plato: I am drawn, Socrates, to the doctrine that knowledge is recollection—what we have called anamnesis. For it explains how truth may arise without direct teaching.
Socrates: And yet, my friend, do we not also see that men learn through their senses? That they observe, compare, and infer?
Plato: Indeed, that is the claim of those who follow experience—that all knowledge comes through perception.
Socrates: Then we are divided. Shall we say that knowledge comes from within, or from without?
Plato: It seems we must choose.
Socrates: Must we? Or have we too quickly assumed that the matter admits of only two paths?
Plato: What alternative do you suggest?
Socrates: Let us inquire. When a man sees two equal sticks and judges them equal, does he derive the idea of equality from the sticks themselves?
Plato: It would seem so, for he perceives them.
Socrates: Yet do the sticks remain perfectly equal in all respects?
Plato: No, they may differ slightly.
Socrates: And yet he judges them by a standard more precise than what is given to the senses. From where does this standard arise?
Plato: Then it cannot come purely from perception.
Socrates: So perhaps perception awakens something that is not itself given in perception.
Plato: That would support anamnesis.
Socrates: But let us not rush. If the knowledge is already within, why does the man require the sight of the sticks at all?
Plato: Perhaps he needs a prompt—a stimulus.
Socrates: Then we might say that the senses do not give knowledge, but provoke its emergence.
Plato: That seems a middle path.
Socrates: Now let us turn to writing—what some call hypomnemata. Are these sources of knowledge?
Plato: They appear to contain knowledge, for they preserve the words of the wise.
Socrates: Appear, yes. But does a man become wise by copying words?
Plato: No, he must understand them.
Socrates: And how does he come to understand?
Plato: By examining, questioning, and reflecting.
Socrates: Then the written word is not knowledge, but a reminder—something that calls the mind back to inquiry.
Plato: A support for memory, not memory itself.
Socrates: Just so. And if a man fills many pages but never returns to them, what has he gained?
Plato: Only the illusion of knowledge.
Socrates: Then writing, like perception, may either awaken or deceive.
Plato: It depends on its use.
Socrates: Now consider this: if knowledge is recollection, and writing aids memory, does writing help us recollect—or does it make us forget?
Plato: It could do either. It might preserve what we would lose, or replace the effort of remembering.
Socrates: So the danger is not in writing, but in mistaking it for thinking.
Plato: Yes, for one might believe that what is written is already understood.
Socrates: Then we arrive at a puzzle:
If knowledge is within, we must awaken it.
If experience prompts it, we must engage it.
If writing preserves it, we must revisit it.
Plato: And if we fail in any of these?
Socrates: Then we may possess many things—perceptions, notes, even arguments—yet remain ignorant.
Plato: So knowledge is not found in any single act, but in a relation between them.
Socrates: A fine conclusion. But tell me, Plato—what binds these together?
Plato: I would say: inquiry.
Socrates: And what is inquiry, if not the soul turning toward itself while being stirred by what lies outside it?
Plato: Then knowledge is neither wholly within nor wholly without—but arises in their meeting.
Socrates: You speak as one who remembers.
Plato: Or perhaps, Socrates, as one who is just beginning to.
See Also:
Anamnesis and Beyond Spacetime
Dialogos of Eide 