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thesis notes.ch3
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diff --git a/plato_time_notes.otx b/plato_time_notes.otx index f8c8f26..20cc571 100644 --- a/plato_time_notes.otx +++ b/plato_time_notes.otx @@ -176,3119 +176,8 @@ speak, philosophy happens.} \defpnote{1.70}{i.e., it is in all probability not a posthumous edition.} -CHAPTER III -THE DOCTRINE OF THE DIALOGUES - - -Introduction - - -In the foregoing chapter, the chronology of the -dialogues according to reputable scholars was presented. - - -The conclusion that the Iimaeus is a late dialogue was - - -reached by these scholars by utilizing several criteria, -including stylistic interpretations, biographical information, agreement among some of the ancients, and certain - - -relevant information which Plato set down in his Seventh - - -Letter. It 1s now the task before us to confirm this - - -cgnelusion by appeal to doctrinal development in the -dialogues which precede the Timaeus. This will be done by -showing that there are significant themes in the dialogues -which precede the Timaeus, which are gradually modified - - -and expanded until they are treated in a new way in the -Timaeus. - -It is obviously impossible in these few pages to -present a detailed summary of all of the philosophical -doctrines which Plato treated in each of the dialogues to -be discussed. Therefore, only those themes which specifically culminate in the Timaeus will be passed in review. - -It 1s assumed that no significant distortion of Plato's -philosophy will be made by selecting three themes which - - -Plato discusses together in the Timaeus, and that no - - - -distortion will be introduced by tracing these themes as -Plato develops them in the dialogues which intervene - - -between a logical starting point and the Timaeus. - - -The first problen, then, is to determine a logical - - -point to begin our investigations. The Timaeus itself gives - - -us the starting point because it begins with a recapitulation of certain themes in the Republic. This seems to be a -clear indication that the investigation of Plato's later -philosophy must include some sort of comparison with the -Republic and the doctrines of the so-called middle period. -In the discussion which follows, it will be assumed that -the doctrines of the Republic may fairly be taken as -representative of the doctrines of the entire middle -period, and that reference to the other dialogues of the -middle period will be made only when it seems clearly -necessary. Thus little mention will be found of the Phaedo, - - -Phaedrus, and Symposium, and our inquiry will focus mainly - - -on the Republic. -The Parmenides and the Theatetus constitute a special - - -group of dialogues, as Ritter has observed. In these -dialogues a special critique of the doctrines of the middle -period is undertaken by Plato himself. Thus, if one plans -to trace the development of certain doctrinal themes by -starting with the Republic and continuing through the late -dialogues, one ought to interpose between the Republic - - -and the "late" dislogues, the Parmenides and the Theatetus, - - - -and their respective doctrines, insofar as they discuss -the themes in question. - -In the subsequent discussion of the doctrines of -the late dialogues, it will be shown that the critique of -the middle doctrines by the Parmenides and Theatetus had - - -brought Plato to the recognition of a need for new doctrinal formulations. Thus, it will not only clarify the doctrine -of the Republic but it will shed light on the Sophist, -Statesman, and Philebus if we examine carefully the critique made by the Parmenides and Theatetus. In this way, one -May examine the sequence of doctrinal modifications which -Plato made as he matured, and one may discuss both the -doctrines and the doctrinal advances as one treats each -succeeding dialogue. - - -Certain confirmations of the view that the Timaeus - - -reformulates old doctrines in a new way will be sought - - -in relevant passages from the Critias and the Laws, but - - -these are only taken as lateral confirmations, and not as - - -indices, of the extent to which the Timaeus contains - - -significantly new doctrinal formulations. They form, as -it were, testable corollaries of the main hypothesis. - -The three themes which I have selected to focus upon -are the themes of eternity, image, and time. It should be -noted that the words eternity, image, and time are not -technical terms for Plato, and that their meaning will be -found to change as the sequence of dialogues approaches the - - -Le - - - - - -Timaeus. For this reason, I prefer to call them themes and ; - - -not terms or ideas or doctrines. - -I have also made a methodological choice. It would -be possible to select the passages from each of the dialogues which discuss eternity, image, and time, and by placing -them together, one could discuss each theme separately. But -there is another way, which seems more faithful to Plato's -own method, and that 18 to pass each dialogue in review, -and, in passing, point out those passages which are relevant to the themes of eternity, image and time. This latter -method has been adopted. - -In the chapters which follow the present one, a more -or less interlinear commentary will be offered on those - - -passages of the Timaeus which are relevant to the three - - -themes I have selected for study. In this way, the gradual -advance of Plato's thought is given what I feel is an -appropriately developmental context. - -I maintain, then, that in the middle period, i.e., in -the Republic, Plato formulated a doctrinal position with -respect to the relations of eternity, image, and time, - - -that he began a critique of this position in the Parmenides - - -and Theatetus, and that he began a new formulation in the -Sophist, Statesman, and Philebus, which reached a new -height in the Timaeus. The reader is asked to judge for -himself in what follows whether this claim is credible. - - - - - -The Republic -In the Republic, Plato retains the doctrine of the - - -Forms, and seeks particularly to find the Form of Justice, -its nature and origin (357 d). However, this is a hard -task which can only be performed by those whose eyesight -(for the Forms) is particularly good (368 d). For this -reason, it is decided that perhaps the method of inquiry -had better be adapted to those whose sight is not so -perfect, so that, instead of attempting to gaze directly -on the Form of Justice, it will be better to adopt a -"shortsighted" method, namely, seeing Justice where it is -writ large, in the state (369 a). This will bring about an -unfortunate mutilation of pure vision, but it is inescapable. Moreover, it is a better method than the one adopted -by such "story tellers" as Hesiod and Homer who rather tell -lies than avoid distortion (377 e). These authors do not -realize that "children" do not know the difference between -allegory and fact. It were better that the truth be not -told at all than told badly, yet the problem of representing -truth in images is not a small one. The primary requirement -is that truths must be represented, if at all, ina true -way, worthy of their contents (379 b). "Because we do not -know the truth of ancient traditions, we make falsehoods -as much like the truth as we can, and there is no use in -this."(382 4d) - -Here in the opening passages of Book II, Plato tells - - -us that one encounters difficulty in attempting to reveal - - - -those truths which have been seen by one's excellent eyesight, to those with less than perfect vision. Images of -truth are, for such men, dangerous, and should be avoided. - -Nevertheless, Plato does not stop the process of -inquiry. Reluctantly, he will try to see the truth of the -Form of Justice as it is writ large in the state. This -tells us that the whole Republic is, in its own way, an -allegory, designed not so much to spell out the legal -machinations of a polis as to take a shortsighted view of -the Form of Justice. We know this interest in Justice to be -a lifelong concern of Plato. It is cited here to document -the fact that even in the middle dialogues, Plato is not -unaware of the danger of misrepresenting the gods, and -that at this point in his development he uses a short-e -sighted method. He makes the decision to undertake a vision -of Justice in the state despite his awareness that his -description of the state will only imperfectly incarnate -Justice in an image, which in this case, is an allegory (%9 -a). The problem is that allegories only imperfectly imitate the Form of Justice, which Plato tells us next in the -famous allegory of the guardians and their education. It -is necessary for the guardians to know the Forms, or else -their guidance shall be lacking in some perfection, yet -they are surrounded in their youth by "images of moral -deformity (401 b)." Physicians, like judges, must cure by - - -use of mind, and "a virtuous nature, educated by time, will - - - -acquire a knowledge of both virtue and vice (409 e)." - - -Thus, it will be necessary for the guardians to be exposed -to both perfect and imperfect images of Justice, and, if -they are strong, and if their souls are in harmony (410 e), -they will rule well, despite the limitations which mere -images of Justice impose on their thought. - -This limitation of images is termed the "royal lie" -and the "audacious fiction" (414 b). It is recognized that -the sights of youth are like dreams, and that their -education is an acquaintance with "appearance," but youth -ie in a process of formation in the womb of the earth. -Perhaps it might not be possible to so educate the guardians in the first generation, but in the next, their sons -will probably adopt this view (415 b). Here Plato anticipates the difficulty that a new set of laws may not be -accepted with open arms by a generation of men, but the -need is great; new laws must be found and promulgated. Yet -the basis for new laws, i.e., a clear sight of the Forms, -is impossible. It is as if Plato were scandalized by the -need to speak the truth of the Forms in a language of -imagery and allegory, yet, the political necessity (the -need to know the truth) cannot be denied. Eventually, the -guardians will see through the mere images of their -education if they are instructed in these matters "and -others not mentioned (423 e)." For that reason, there is - - -no need to legislate about particulars, since these will - - - -flow from the character of the institutions (425 c). - -In order to legislate about the "greatest and noblest" -institution (427 b) the one which deals with temples and -sacrifices, Plato introduces the "method of residues" -which we would call the method of gradual elimination. - -By presenting the given activities, which are presumed to - -be known, and by eliminating all the unacceptable ones, -Plato arrives at a list of virtues which ought to characterize the guardians (428 a). (As we shall see, this method - -of residues is by no means the same as the method of -division in the Sophist). Then, by eliminating lesser -virtues, Plato arrives at the conclusion that the guardians -ought to be temperate, wise, courageous, and just (432 b). -And by further use of the method of residues, it is - -decided that Justice 1s the ultimate basis of the perfection -of the state (435 a). As we shall see, this conclusion will -be expanded in the Timaeus, where Time, not Justice is - -said to be the basis of perfection. - -Justice itself is said to be "the having and doing -what is a man's own, and belongs to him (435 b)." If a -man does what he does, and does not attempt to do what -others do, then Justice will have introduced harmony into -the relations of the citizens. - -Just as the classes of the state are to be in harmony -with each other, so the soul's virtues will be in harmony - - -with each other, if education proceeds correctly. Yet - - -TT -Socrates confessed that he does not understand this notion -of harmony too well. The technical insight into music and -the harmony of string lengths is best left to the musician, -as the matter of gymnastic is best left to the gymnast. -Socrates relates the need for harmony in the soul; the -images of this harmony in the particular instances of -music and gymnastics are not directly his concern. - -'This is true because it behooves a man, and a state, -to be a unity, whereas a skill in a large number of -particulars strains unity. 'thus, each class in the state -has one and only one function, just as each man in the -state will have one and only one occupation. Thus for the -shoemaker to fight will be unjust, just as the fighter -should not make shoes. - -However, Socrates begins to doubt that his method of -residues is working very well. He reminds us that we are -seeking a knowledge of Justice and that we are trying to -achieve it by seeing Justice writ large in the state, but -the discussion seems to be bogging down in particulars. -However, he hopes to "strike a spark" and in that way -release a vision of his subject (434 e). He says: - -I must confess that the method we are employing - -seems to be altogether inadequate to the accurate - -solution of this questions for the true method is -another and a longer one. Still, we may arrive at - -a@ solution not below the level of the previous - -Anquiry (435 a)." - -This is the same intractable necessity to reveal - - -visions of a more perfect eye to those with less than - - -Toes - - - -perfect vision. However, the method of employing images -aoes reveal a "shadow" of Justice, and therefore, it is -useful (443 c). So, on this basis he traces out the -division of labor in a society, showing that each man who -fulfills his appointed task is just only insofar as he does -not encroach upon the appointed task of another. To do what -another ought to do is a double injustice, both to oneself -and to the other. The solidarity of the "imaginary commonwealth" (456 d) rests on this Justice, and, in the same way, -the soul of the man who tries to cross his line of responsibility will be unjust. The relation of these divided -responsibilities is injustice. We must assume this to be -so, for we are reminded that the allegorical investigation -of the Form of Justice is like dreamers feasting on a -dream, and that the state here investigated is ""imaginary (458 a)." - -Does unity, achieved by the harmony of each individual (soul or class) performing his one task, really work. -"The inquiry has yet to be made whether such a community -will be found possible...and in what way...(471 c)." - -To answer this, we must inquire what is the least -change to be introduced into the state which would bring -about the imaginary harmony we seek. The philosopher-~ -king is the person who will accomplish this. Why do we -need the philosopher-king? Because it is he who sees the -Forms in their direct "Beauty" (476 b) and he knows the - - - -difference between knowledge of something and knowledge of : -nothing. When one knows, he knows something, and this is -true knowledge. When one knows nothing, he is in "ignore -ance" (477 b). The realm of opinion is in between, where -what one knows both is and is not. True knowledge is of -the immutable and the eternal, and only this is rightly -called knowledge (478 e). this sort of knowledge and this -sort alone should characterize the philosopher-king, and -all those who deal in opinions about the Justice of this -or that or the Beauty of this or that occupy some intermediary region which will not fit them for ruling, nor for -introducing into the atate the least change which will -make it a just state. Only knowledge of the eternal and -immutable is knowledge. And yet, as Galileo remarked in -another age, it moves: the dialogue which castigates mere -images continues on its allegorical way. - -Not only is it true that Knowledge which deserves -the name is eternal and immutable, but further, those who -dwell in the realm of opinion are called Sophists, whose -cant and mere talk is subject to every whim and caprice of -opinion, changing from day to day and from speech to -speech. Such men cannot deserve the honor of navigating -at the helm of state, for they follow the fancies of the -demanding crew, whom they are supposed to lead (488 a). -Just as most do not possess the clarity of vision to see - - -Justice, these men do not know how sweet philosophy is. - - -LL - - - - - -Few know this (496 c). For this reason, there has never -been a state ruled by the philosopher king, and none exists -at the present (499 a). We see how necessary it is to -found the state on justice yet we have confronted the -supreme difficulty of revealing justice to the inhabitors -of the realm of opinion. It is confessed to be impossible, -and for that reason, rather than try to show the Sophist -the form of justice, we had better imagine a state where -youths are educated from the start to see through the -dreams which characterize the realm of opinion. - -If then, in the countless ages of the past or at - -the present hour in some foreign clime which is - -far away and beyond our ken, the perfect philosopher - -4s or has been or shall be hereafter compelled by a - -superior power to have charge of the state, we are - -ready to assert to the death that this our -constitution has been, is, and yea, will be at - -any time, only when the muse of philosophy is - -queen. Neither is there any impossibility in - -this: the difficulty we do not deny (499 4). - -Here is a striking juncture, for in it, Plato tells -us that the vision of the eternal and immutable Form of -Justice is only to be had by philosophers, that images are -not completely satisfactory (since the Sophists deal in -them), but that there is no impossibility in imagining the -philosopher-king performing his role, perhaps in the past, -perhaps at present, or perhaps in the future. The themes -of eternity, image, and time, are joined in one passage. -The eternal realm of Forms is the domain of the philosopher, -not the Sophist, who dwells in the realm of opinion and - - -changing imagery. At present, we have no philosopher-king, - - - - - -but, since he is not impossible, he may be sought in -another time; perhaps past, perhaps future, or perhaps in -the present somewhere far away. - -What will be the task of the philosopher-king. - -eoeHe will look at Justice and Beauty as they are - -in nature and again at the corresponding quality - -in mankind, and then inlay the true human image, - -moulding and selecting out of the various forms - -of life: and this He will conceive according to - -that other image, which, when existing among - -men, Homer calls the form and likeness of - -God" (501 b). - -It will be his task to see the forms and to legislate -in such a way that men are made in him image. To do so -requires a very high wisdom indeed, and the education of -the guardians must therefore by truly philosophical. They -will not be allowed to take the shortsighted path: theirs -will be the "long way." To this astonishing exhortation, it -is objected: is there a higher form than Justice, and the -still more astonishing answer is: yes. This is the idea of -the Good and the Beautiful (504 ad). - -The Good and the Beautiful are not to be represented -on the same level as Justice. For them, nothing short of -the most perfect representation suffices (504 e). Yet, -even the best opinion is only like a blind man hoping to -find his way along a straight road (506). To discuss the -4dea of the Good is too much of a task for the present, -but Socrates deigns to discuss the "child of the good"; - - -he warns his hearers to be on guard lest he render a false - - -account, although he has no intention of deceit (506 e). - - - - - -What follows is an extended metaphor concerring -sunlight, the eyes, and the things seen, in which Socrates -explains that the sun is not sight but the source of sight, - -he whom I call the child of the Good, whom the - -Good begat in his own likeness, to be in the - -visible world in relation to sight and the - -things of sight what the Good is in the - -intellectual world in relation to mind and - -the things of the mind" (508 b). - -This is the immediate prelude to the famous allegory -of the divided line, in which the ambivalence which Plato -seems to show with respect to images is somewhat clarified. -It emerges that there are two sorts of images, those which -pertain to the visible world and those which pertain to the -intelligible world. In the intelligible sphere, reason -apprehends the Forms, understanding apprehends images of -the Forms. In the same way, there are divisions in the -visible world: the reflections of the Forms in the visible -world, when perceived truly, are reflections and images, -but when they are not perceived truly, are mere shadows -and opinions (510 a). In the intelligible realm, images -function as hypotheses, suggesting but not confirming -the Forms and the ideas. - -Perhaps the most famous of all philosophical allegories is the next image which Socrates presents, the allegory -of the cave (514 a). We are told that the divided line can -be seen more concretely in the cave allegory. Going from -the lowest to the highest of knowledge, we first have - - -shadows, then the objects which cast the shadows, themselves - - - - -only images of the Forms. Then, the understanding captures . -images of the Forms and finally, reason sees the Form (515e). -It is noteworthy, despite the familiarity of this allegory, -to point out that the path of philosophical knowledge is -laden with two difficulties: the first is the blinding -clarity of the Forms when first seen: the second is the -need to readapt one's eyes to the dark of the cave upon -redescending (516 e). However, since the soul likes to -climb, and prefers not to descend back into the cave, the -guardians will have to point out that the whole state -suffers if the enlightened ones do not redescend to -enlighten in turn their former fellows (519 c). - -Here we again confront two kinds of images, or -rather two levels of images. This is an advance beyond -the first books of the dialogue, where all images were -weve copies, dangerous and to be avoided. But, Plato has -not brought the realm of the Forms any closer: rather, he -has added a small measure of validity to the images of the -Forms. It is no longer true that no truth whatever can be -had in the visible wordl: now, some images are valid, -others are not. It is still true, however, that images do -not perfectly reveal the Forms. - -There is one further step in the treatment of images -in the Republic which deserves emphasis. After Socrates -describes the visible universe and the starry heaven as - - -the most beautiful and perfect of all visible things (on - - - -this basis the guardians are to be instructed in geometry -and astronomy) he says that these sciences are not to be -learned for their own sake, but because they contain -instructive images of the "divine" (532). The unfortunate -thing is that those who study the number of stars do not -look for number itself, and even those who study numbers -themselves do not reflect upon why some numbers are -harmonious and some are not: they ignore the "images of -the divine," not knowing that what they study is only -like the truth, but is not the truth (533 c). - -The seeds of a new insight are here, but it would -be stretching the point to say that we are now fully -4nstructed in it. It becomes true to say that for every -level of truth, the level just beneath it "images" it. -For this reason, there are two kinds of image in the -divided line: from the higher vantage point of perception, -mere sensation is only a shadow, the lowliest kind of image. -From the point of view of reason, understanding is only an -image. Similarly, every perception, from the higher point -of view of understanding, is only an image. Image is thus -a relative term, not necessarily opprobrious, since to -advance from a shadow to an image is an advance in the -right direction, i1.e., toward greater insight. - -This is an important doctrine in several respects, -not the least of which is the new validity which images - - -have been given. It is also important to stress the - - - -relativity of images to the respective truths which they -reveal, because it is just this function of revealing the - - -higher truth which the Timaeus develops in a new way. In - - -the Republic, Plato admits the functional role of images -with some hesitation. In the Timaeus, this hesitation is - - -gone, and images are said to be perfectly appropriate -revelations in themselves, since they are proportional -to their paradigms. - -Next we are given a Pythagorean myth of the origin -and outcome of strife in the state, in which the diameters -and circumferences of circles are described by means of -the numbers for which the Pythagoreans are famous. The -perfect stpirelede circle is one whose diameter is a -perfect number; i.e., one which is the sum of its divisors, -as six is divided by and is the sum of 1, 2, and 3. -Unevenly divided circles introduce strife in the state. -This 1s the sort of tale the muses tell, and Homer speaks -their language (545 e). However, while these tales are true -in their way, Plato says that there are more pressing -investigations, and little is made of the whole procedure. -It is quickly introduced and quickly abandoned. Suffice it -here to note that in this Pythagorean allegory time is -represented by a revolving sphere, and, like a sphere, has -a beginning, a middle and an end, so that the forms of -government which correspond to the periods of time have a -definite sequence. One might extract here a whole political -_philosophy of history in the Pythagorean idiom, but it can | - - - -be shown by a discussion of the Timaeus, that a philosophy -of political forms and their temporal sequence along -Pythagorean lines is far from the sort of treatment Plato -can give to this subject. - -Plato resorts once again to an image of the soul, -but this time it 1s an ideal image, the best possible. -The soul is pictured as consisting of one part polycephalous beast, one part lion, and one part man (588 c), just -as the state consists of three classes, one of knowledge, -one of ambition, and one of money (580 da). Having discovered this as a result of the inquiry into the state as the -image of the justice of the soul, Socrates says now that -the ideal city is a pattern laid up in heaven, and "he who -desires may behold this, and beholding, govern himself -accordingly. But whether there really is or ever will be -such a one is of no importance to him, for he will act -according to the laws of that city and no other" (592 b). - -The last book of the Republic again takes up the -problem of representing this ideal realm in images which -the short-sighted might be able to see. Here Plato rejects -imitative poetry as mere copy-making, so that even the -painter, who paints new images which did not exist before, -4s an inferior kind of creator, for when he copies the bed -which the carpenter makes of wood, even the wooden bed is -only an imitation of the Form of all beds. The painter -copies, the carpenter copies, but the idea of the bed is - - -ie - - - -original and is not a copy of any thing or of any idea. - -Thus, the doctrine of the Republic, insofar as it -concerns the realm of Forms, describes this realm as a -sphere in which what is remains what it is, and does not -become something else. These Forms are the archetypes of -the visible world, which, from the point of view of the -Forms, consists of images and copies of the Forms. Images -are subject to time in the guises of generation and corrup~ -tion, and are changeable, and, therefore, are not truly -real, since they are not immutable and eternal. - -One last doctrinal theme of the Republic remains to -be cited before we pass on to the next dialogue. It is the -Myth of Er. Like the small Pythagorean allegory which -purported to explain the origin of strife, it represents -an attempt on Plato's part to plumb not only the depths -of things but to discern their origins. The Myth of -goes beyond the Pythagorean myth of political philosophy -in that it is meant to be a brief cosmogony, not just the -origin of this or that political form. ''o those who search -the Republic for a literal political philosophy and its -correlations with the soul, it might seem strange that -the Republic should end on a note of myth. However, to -those who see that the Kepublic is an allegorical attempt -to portray the realm of Justice, (which is timeless) in -terms which the shortsighted can comprehend, (namely, the - - -images of the changing present) it comes as no surprise - - -tote) -that the Republic ends in a myth. In fact, since the whole -Republic itself, 1s confessedly only a short-sighted -representation of an eternal realm, there should be no -jarring of consciousness when the Myth of Er is presented. -The whole dialogue reads like an attempt to say what seems -unsayable to those who think that saying things means they -are true. - -However, there are certain characteristics of the -Myth of Er which ought to be singled out, in addition to -its cosmogonical character, - -The Myth of Er recounts the alleged journey of a -slain warrior into the world after death, where he is -allowed to see what happens to the souls who perish. Some -are doomed to wander beneath the earth for ten times the -normal lifespan (reckoned as ten times one hundred) and -others are allowed to spend their time in a realm of -""4nconceivable Beauty." Thereafter, the souls are allowed -to choose from a wide assortment of lives those they think -they would enjoy in their next mortal period on earth. - -The more interesting feature of this myth is the -description of the stars and planets spinning in their -relative spheres around the spindle of Necessity; the -Fates, daughters of Necessity, may interrupt these revolutions momentarily or give them direction. The fates -represent the tenses of time, one for the present, one -for the past, and one for the future. Here is the circular - - -image of time again, in which the revolutions of the - - - -spheres of the heavens is taken to be the meaning of time: / -that is, the spinning of the spheres is the motion we call -time. Notice, however, that here in the Republic, time -derives from necessity. As we shall see, this is quite -different from the doctrine of the Timaeus. - -One of the most provocative features of this myth, -48 the perpetual recurrence which 1s said to characterize -life, and the circular imagery in which this doctrine is -cloaked. For, if it is taken seriously as a myth, it tells -us that the number of souls must be a constant, and the -careers of men are predetermined by their former lives. -How could the experience of such a realm elude our conscious -thought in the mortal portion of life? We are told that the -souls must drink of the "waters of forgetfulness and negligence" before they return to a mortal abode (621 a). - -this is a strange metaphor, especially when coupled -with the doctrine of reminiscence, or with the description - - -of the after-life in the Phaedo. What is the meaning of - - -the "water of forgetfulness"? It pertains to the theme we -have been describing throughout the Republic: the eternal -realm of Forms, the visible world of time, and the strange -distance between them which makes the truth of the eternal -realm almost impossibly unintelligible to the visible life. -Here in the Myth of Er the souls who have lived for a -thousand years in the realm of "inconceivable Beauty" are -made to forget this experience by imbibing the waters of - - -ES - - - -forgetfulness. In this way, a mythical answer is made to -the problem of the difficulty of remembering the realm of -Forms, the true home of the soul. Since the soul has been -in the realm of the Forms, this former life is the basis of -the soul's subsequent recognition of copies of the Forms in -this life. This accounts for Socrates' constant attempt to -be the midwife of insight. He hopes that a particularly -well-chosen image might awaken the soul's memory of the -eternal realm. His whole pedagogy is based on this premise. - -On the one hand, this elevates philosophic discourse -to a very high level. On the other hand, it puts the whole -responsibility of achieving insight into the Forms on a -lesser and inferior type of insight. This contradiction -did not escape Plato, but he did not resolve it in the -Republic. We shall have to look to succeeding dialogues for -its resolution. - -Summary of the Republic - -We have seen that the Republic presents an attempt to -gain insight into the eternal realm through the investigation of Justice as it is in the state, that this is an -allegorical attempt to see the Form of justice in the soul, -and in that way to see Justice itself. However, we are told -repeatedly that one needs good vision for this, and that not -everyone has good vision. Further, even those with good -vision have a difficult time communicating with those who -have less than perfect vision. This forces him who has seen - - -ithe Form of Justice to resort to images and copies of the - - - - -Form of Justice, which, unfortunately results ina . -Mutilation of the truth of the Form. We are forced to rely -on myths which are like the truth but are not the truth. -They bring us close to the truth but not close enough. -The height and distance of the Forms is the reason for this -difficulty, and it is only partially diminished by the use -of imagery, which is unfortunately always changing, becoming, and passing away. We must have the truth as it is, -yet we cannot, for the realms of eternity and time are too -discrete. While time derives from necessity, the Forms -derive from eternity, and images constitute an in-between -realm of compromise. -The Parmenides - -It is generally agreed that the Parmenides and the -Theatetus must be placed midway between the middle and the - - -late dialogues. If it is true that Plato gradually develop= -ed his doctrines, one should expect to find in the Parmenides some criticism of the Form-theory as it was developed -in the Republic, and some sort of further development of -doctrine. In order to present the details of this hypothesized development, it is now necessary to examine the - - -doctrines of the Parmenides which pertain to the themes of - - -eternity, image, and time, and to see how Plato modifies -his view of the relation of these themes to each other -and in what way the meaning of these themes in themselves - - -is changed. As we shall see, the eternal realm of the Forms - - - -and the relation of this realm to the realm of visible -things, as described in the Republic, is brought face to -face with some sharp criticisms, in the light of which -Plato modifies the positions he took in the Republic. - -It 18 also generally agreed that one may logically -divide the Parmenides into two parts, the first of which 1s -a dramatic introduction and the second of which constitutes -the body of doctrine. In this second part, Plato divides -his subject into a series of eight hypotheses. Before we -discuss them, it might be wise to describe what the word - - -hypothesis means as Plato uses it in the Parmenides. - - -First, Plato does not mean by hypothesis what is -usually meant by this word in contemporary usage in our -own day. We are accustomed to the provisional character of -hypotheses and we regularly expect them to be written in -the form of if-then propositions. Thus for example, we -usually begin an investigation by asserting that, if a -given theoretical view is true, then we should expect to -find the certain conditions to obtain. Then we seek out -the conditions, describe them as impartially and fairly as -we can, and thereafter determine with what accuracy the -conditions resemble those we predicted would obtain. - -But Plato's method in the Parmenides is different -from the methods just described. He proceeds in a similar -but not identical way: for he first decides to examine - - -whether a given proposition is true or false and then, - - -ee - - - -first assumes the truth and then the falsity of the -proposition in question, which he follows with a demonstrae -tion of the logical consequences of these assumptions. If -he arrives at an absurd consequence by assuming the -proposition to be false, he begins again by logically -deducing the consequences of assuming the proposition to -be true. In short, Plato asks what are the consequences of -assuming a given proposition to be true or false, and it -is these propositions which he calls hypotheses. His method -differs from our own in that we are accustomed to confront -our hypothetical propositions with observations which may -or may not agree with predicted observations. Plato examines -the logical consequences of a given view; we predict which -observations shall be made if the hypothesis is true. - -While these two methods have much in common, they are -obviously not identical. - -The eight hypotheses which Plato discusses in the -Parmenides are not equally relevant to the themes of eternity, image and time, so that the short summary of the -doctrine of the Parmenides which follows should not be -regarded as an attempt to summarize the entire significance -of the dialogue. - -The dialogue begins with a recitation of a youthful -work of Zeno's, which asserts that the existence of the -many leads to logical absurdities even more ridiculous than -the alleged absurdities which are said to flow from the - - -tes - - - -assertion of the existence of the One. The basis for this -assertion of absurdity is the statement that the many -would have to be both like and unlike, and that therefore -the Like would be Unlike and the Unlike Like, i.e., since -there are both like and unlike things, both Like and Unlike would have to be said of them (127 e). - -Socrates asks whether it is possible to assert that -there is a Form of Like and a Form of Unlike, and that, -instead of saying that each thing is both Like and Unlike, -perhaps things share in these Forms, and in that way, -things will only share in these Forms and will not have to -be both like and unlike in themselves (129 a). While it -would not be difficult to think that things shared in the -Forms in this dual way, it would of course be impossible to -assert that the idea of Like and the idea of Unlike themselves shared in a dual way in some higher Form, A thing -might participate in the One and in the Many and in that -way it could share in both of them without being both of -them, and thus different from itself. In the same way, -things could share in both Rest and Motion, Same and -Different, and other pairs of opposites (129 e). - -Parmenides and Zeno smile in admiration at this -view, as if they were amused at the craft of this philosophical child named Socrates, who, at the time of this -dialogue, 1s said to be no more than twenty years old (130). - - -Parmenides elicits from Socrates the admission that - - -i 95 -his method leads to the assertion of a Form for the Just, : -the Good, and the Beautiful, and of all that class of -notions (130 a). Therefore, there must be a Form of man, -of fire, of water, etc. Similarly, there must be a Form of -hair, dirt, mud, etc. - -eeevVisible things such as these are as they appear - -to us, and I am afraid that there would be an - -absurdity in assuming an idea of them, although I - -sometimes get disturbed and begin to think that - -there is nothing without an idea; but then again -when I have taken this position, I run away, - -because I am afraid that I may fall into a bottonmless pit of nonsense, and perish; and I return to - -the ideas of which I was just now speaking, and - -busy myself with them (130 d). - -Parmenides responds that this is due to Socrates’ youth, -and that a time will come when philosophy will have a -firmer grasp. - -Parmenides then puts the issue squarely: are there -or are there not Forms in which things participate, and in -that way come to have the qualities of the Forms. Socrates -says there are (131 a). Here we have the central problem -of the Parmenides posed with exact precision: are there -Forms and is there an eternal unchanging realm where they -abide. This realm and its characteristics are assumed to -exist so that they can be examined in a new way. The -problem of the manner in which the Many participate in the -One is chosen as the topic by which this issue is best -focused, and they agree to discusa it. . - -The first ob jection Parmenides offers to this view is - - -the problem of accounting for the way in which a Form could - - - -be said to be in the many and yet remain one Forn. For, . -if the Form were in the many, it would seem to be divided -among them, and hence, not one Form, but many. Nor is it -possible for the whole idea to be in each of the many for -then the idea itself would be many (131 c). - -The second objection Parmenides raises is as follows: -if the Idea of Greatness (or Oneness, or Justice, etc.) -arises as the Idea under which the many are comprehended, -must not an Idea of the Idea arise which is the source -both of the Idea and of its distribution in the many, and -then an Idea of it, and so on, until an infinite regress -4a reached (1352 b)? - -Socrates attempts to evade this by asking whether -the Idea may not be only a mental unity assigned to the -class. Parmenides shows that even such an Idea would be -subject to the same critique, for an Idea of the Idea -would have to arise to give meaning to the first idea, and -so on. - -Socrates then attempts to say that the Ideas are -really patterns fixed in nature, and that things resemble -them. This is subjected to the same critique: another Idea -would have to arise in which both the pattern and the -thing would be like. - -"The theory, then, that other things participate in -the Ideas by resemblance has to be given up, and some - - -other mode of participation has to be devised" (133 a). - - - - -These are not even the gravest objections which can -be raised against the theory of the Forms. Even worse -consequences follow once one perceives that the Ideas -cannot exist in us or be known by us so long as they remain -where they are said to be, for then they are there and not -here with us. And if we cannot know them, is there any -basis of intelligibility: how can we know, and what can we -know (133 b). Parmenides asserts that only a long and -laborious demonstration can remove this difficulty, which -necessitates much training, (not good eyesight alone). - -Parmenides begins then, by facing directly the -problem which the Republic began to examine; i.e., if there -is a realm of Forms separated from the realm of things, -the relation of one realm to the other seems impossible, and -with that impossibility of separation, partially bridged by -the reluctant admission of images, the basis of true -knowledge (and Justice, Good, Beauty, etc.) disappears. -One falls thereafter into a "pit of nonsense." The further -consequence is that anyone who might have knowledge of the -Forms would be unable to have knowledge of us, since we are -in a different realm (134 e). Separated realms leads to -nothing less than the destruction of reason (135 c). All -this arises out of the youth of Socrates, and his lack of -training. - -Parmenides holds out a hopes he says that there is -more truth to be found, if, after affirming the hypothesis - - -,of separated realms and inapecting its logical results, - - - - - -the hypothesis is also denied, and the results of this -denial are similarly subjected to logical investigation. -One should further test this method by both affirming and -denying such hypotheses as the existence and non-existence -of the One and the Many, Rest and Motion, Like and Unlike, -Generation and Destruction (136 b). - -Notice the characteristics of this method. The -existence and the non-existence, Rest and Motion, Generation and Destruction, are to be tested. Both sides of the -argument are to be followed. Nowhere has the question yet -been asked whether there are two sides. It is assumed. As -we shall see, it is this assumption of a dualism running -through the nature of Forms, Ideas, things, perceptions, -etc., which Plato is subjecting to the light of his -analysis. - - -So much for part one of the Parmenides. In the next - - -portion Parmenides employs his method of affirmation and -denial in eight hypotheses. In them, he subjects nothing -less than the basis of the theory of Forms to a searching -critique. - -The first hypothesis of the eight is said to be -Parmenides’ own One; if this sort of One is, it cannot be -many (137 c). From this it follows that it has no parts, -no beginning, middle, end, is not like or unlike itself or -another, is neither same nor different, is neither at rest -nor in motion, is neither great nor small, limited not - - -(unlimited, equal or unequal. The relation of the One and - - - -time is set forth as follows: - -The One cannot be older, or younger, or the same age -as itself, because that would imply Likeness, which it was -shown not to have (140 a). Therefore it cannot exist in -time at all (141 a). "And if the One 1s without participation in time, it never has become, or was becoming, or was -at any former time, or has now become or is becoming, or is -or will become, or will have become or will be hereafter." - -"Most true. - -"But are there any modes of being other than these? - -"There are none. - -"Then the One cannot possibly partake of being. - -"That is the inference. - -"Then the One is not. (14%) - -"But can all this be true about the One? - -" I think not" (142 a). - -The result of the first hypothesis is clear: starting on the assumption of the One as unrelated, it follows -that nothing can be said about it, not even that it is -One. Assuming the logic to be impeccable, the hypothesis -leads to its own contradiction. Such an hypothesis is -untenable. Therefore, all the things which we tried to -predicate of it, and found ourselves unable to predicate of -it, are not predicable of it @f it 18 what we assumed it to -be), that is, unrelated. If it is unrelated, it is unspeakably other. Therefore, we must seek for other ways to -speak intelligently about it. - -Here is the first clear attempt to close the gap - - -between the unreachably eternal and the irrevocably temporal, a gap which 1s now clearly faced and admitted to - - -te - - - -present an obstacle to intelligent thought. The One, -therefore, cannot be in a completely separated eternal -realm. It must somehow be in some sort of relation to the -temporal realm. The ways in which the One is so related are -the topics of the next hypotheses. - -The second hypothesis (142 e=155 a) begins with a -different assumption. It affirms that if the One is, its -unity and its being are different. Therefore, it is a -vhole of two parts, unity and being. Each part, furthermore, -is a one (142 d). Therefore, the One of hypothesis II -contains division within it, and therefore becomes the -recipient of the predicates which its former indivisibility -made impossible. It is now, however, susceptible of both -sides of the pairs of contraries which were formerly -inapplicable. It is now One and Many, Infinite in number -and Limited in number, Same and Other, in itself and in -another, at Rest and in Motion. Further, these predicates -are both applicable by affirmation, but, because each pair -is contradictory, they are also inapplicable. - -If the One is a One of parts, it partakes of time, -which is always moving forward (152 a). Therefore, the One -becomes older, younger, and is the same age as itself. Yet, -Since it is the same age as itself, it is neither older nor -younger than itself (152 e). - -In the same way, it is younger, older, and the same -age as the Other and the Others (153 e). And, in the same - - -ls - - - -way, it is not older, younger, or the same age as the -Other or the Others (154 a). - -Therefore, since the one partakes of time, and -partakes of becoming older and becoming younger than itself -and the Others, and neither is nor becomes older or younger -than the Others, the One is aid wee and will be, and was -becoming, 1s becoming, and will be becoming. "And, if we -are right in all this, then there is an opinion and science -and perception of the One" (155 da). - -Two conclusions may be drawn from the second hypothesis. First, the One, by hypothesis, is no longer so -separate and so isolated that nothing can be known or said -of it, so that it is now said to be in time and becoming, -and not in time and becoming. Second, it is, by the same - - -token, both like and unlike itself. But this is far from - - -the final doctrine of the Parmenides. - - -In the first hypothesis, the One was indivisibly One -and nothing could be said or known of it. In the second -hypothesis, the One is divisible and therefore, everything -can be said and known of it. But this is nor more satisfactory than before. Previously, we avoided contradictory -predications at the expense of knowledge; now, we have -knowledge, but it pays the price of contradictory predications. Since it ia no more helpful to say everything of it - - -than it is to say nothing of it, another way must be found -to discuss the One intelligently. - - -Hypothesis IIA interposes another method by which - - - -the One can be intelligently discussed. The One cannot be -the bare unity of hypothesis I nor the divided unity of -hypothesis II. Hypothesis IIA tries to see whether one can -avoid the scandal of contradiction by making predications -of the One at different instants, so that there will be no -one time at which the contradictory predicates of hypothesis -II need to be applied simultaneously. In its own way, it -introduces some considerations of not-being, which, as we -shall see, are pursued further in subsequent dialogues, -especially in the Sophist. - -If, as hypothesis II asserts, the One is divided, -and partakes of time, it cannot both be and not be at the -same time (155 6). (This is precisely what is to be proved). -Therefore, there must be an instant between the instant -when the One is (said to be anything) and the One is not -(said to be anything) (156 a). Similarly, there must be an -instant between its generation and its corruption. In the -same way, there must be an instant between the instant -when the One is in motion and the instant when the One is -at rest, when it is like and when it is unlike, etc. The -strange instant between the instants at which predication -may be asserted is a very peculiar sort of instant, for, -if the predicates which we assert of the One are asserted -of the One insofar as it is in time, the instant between -these instants cannot be in time, and might therefore be -called not-time. Plato does not use this term. He calls it - - -_\& "queer instant" and says that the divided One of - - - -hypothesis II leads to the conclusion of contradictory : -predicates, and that these cannot be simultaneously -asserted (157 a). But if they cannot be asserted at the -same instants, perhaps they can be asserted at different -instants. Yet at any given instant, if we do not assert -both sets of predicates and neither, (1i.e., both affirm -and deny them) this instant cannot be in time at all. - -Hypothesis IIA may be called the "linear" hypothesis, -by which is meant that in it, time is examined as if it -consisted of a series of instants, a sort of Zenoism of -time, an imaginary line. Plato here applies the third -man argument to a linear image of time, a series of -instants, yet, if time is a series of instants, a third -inatant will always be found between the two surrounding -4netants at which predication is made. It seems that Plato -here asserts that time cannot consist of a series of -4nstants and that predication is made impossible by so -viewing it. - -If becoming, motion, change, generation, alteration, -and locomotion are in time, and their contraries are also -in time, we cannot avoid the difficulty of contradictory -predication by assuming that time is a series of instants, -nor can we say that the pairs of predicates switch over -from one instand to another in an interstitial instant. -For, if a predicate is asserted of the first instant and -the contradictory predicate is asserted of the third - - -iinstant, at the point of the second instant, nothing can - - - -be asserted, and we are back to hypothesis I where we can -neither affirm nor deny anything of the One. However, this -philosophical gymnastic has not been unfruitful. We know -now that the need to make intelligent statements about -the One is not satisfied by assuming that it is a completely separate One. We know that we cannot say that it is -completely divided, for then it is really a Two. And we -know that we cannot insert the instant between the One and -the Two in order to fasten predicates on either end and -allow the middle to be the transition, for then the middle -ie neither One nor Two. -I hope it does no violence to the spirit of philosophical continuity to say at this juncture that the remainder of the Parmenides may be briefly summarized. The - - -Parmenides does not attempt to solve its problem within - - -itself, but leads one beyond it. The third hypothesis -points out that parts in their multiplicity, and parts in -their relation as parts of a whole, must be distinguished, -and on this basis, their limitation and relative infinity -can overcome the contrariety they seem to suggest. In this -way we avoid the contradiction of saying that the parts -are both limited and unlimited and therefore cannot be -predicated of the One. In fact we must say that the parts -participate in the One as parts, but that parts by them -selves are merely unlimited. - -The fourth hypothesis considers the relation of the - - -(One to Others, that 1s, each part, as a One, has some of - - - -the properties of the Other insofar as it is a part. The -fifth hypothesis considers the need to understand how the -One, the parts, and the Others limit each other. (This -point will be pursued at some length in the Philebus). The - - -sixth hypothesis examines the characteristic of the Other -insofar as it is only other. The seventh hypothesis considers the result of assuming the existence of the many -without assuming the existence of the One. This is said to -result in mere opinion, which is inadequate precisely -insofar as it sees only the many as many and ignores the -many as parts of the whole. The elgth hypothesis points -out that the assumption of the existence of the Many -without the One results in a contradiction because without -the One there is no Many. -Summary - -I would like to summarize the doctrine of the -Parmenides insofar as it pertains to the hypothesis of this -study. It is, I think, an examination of the naive assumption that the realm of the Forms in its bare unrelated -purity renders intelligent predication, and therefore, all -intelligent discourse, impossible. It asks how and in -what way we may both speak of the Forms and speak of -appearances without separating their respective realms. -It states that the realms are related (in some way-hypothesis III) but it never really reveals this way with any -precision or clarity. - - -However, for the purposes of this study, an important, - - - -conclusion has been stated. We saw in hypothesis IIA, -that it is not possible to regard time as a series of -instants strung out along an imaginary line, and that the -instant is, in some way, not-time, a "queer instant." - -As we shall see, in one of the next dialogues, the -Sophist, the generalization of this problem of not-time is -examined: i.e., the problem of not-being. A new method of -division of predicates is introduced in the Sophist and -developed in the Statesman. The question of limit and - - -measure is examined in the Philebus, and, finally, the - - -divisions of becoming and the nature of time are examined - - -in the Timaeus. - - -However, between the Parmenides and the Sophist - - -there is another dialogue which intervenes, the dialogue - - -which is generally agreed to follow the Parmenides. It - - -seems to be the task of this next dialogue to examine the -protagonists of hypothesis VII, in which it is said that -there are those who hold that the Many exist and can be -known. This is the subject of the Theatetus. - - -The Theatetus -This dialogue sets itself the problem of examining - - -knowledge, and asks itself to answer such questions as - -"do we know," "how do we know," and "are there kinds of -knowledge." Where the Parmeyides focused on the consequences of hypothesizing that the realm of Forms is completely - - -separated from the realm of things, the Theatetus inquires - - -,into the basis of knowledge from the other direction, - - - -namely, it focuses on the world of things and seeks the : -basis for speaking of it intelligently and knowingly. - -In the interests of brevity, only those portions of -the Theatetus which are directly relevant to the analysis - - -of the themes of eternity, image, and time will receive -comment in what follows, and no implication should be drawn -that the entire significance of the dialogue consists in -these portions to the exclusion of other important aspects -of the dialogue. It is the business of the following -comments to focus on the significance of the problem of -knowledge and the attendant problem of error to show that -the Theatetus constitutes something of an advance over the -Parmenides precisely because it takes some of the conclusions of the Parmenides into account. - - -Theatetus suggests that knowledge is perception (151e). -Socrates reminds Theatetus that this position makes all -knowledge infallible, and that this same doctrine fits -Heraclitus, Empedocles, and Homer, indeed, fits a whole -tradition, with the single exception of Parmenides. -According to this tradition,all things are in a perpetual -becoming, and therefore we may not say that things are -being or something, because they are all in flow and flux -(152 6). In perception as well as in matters of the soul, -motion, not rest, is the source of health, according to - -these philosophers. - - -Socrates then reaches the conclusion that whatever - - - - - -appears can only be while it is appearing. He remarks -"Let us follow out our recent statement and lay it down that -there is no single thing that is in and by itself" (153 e), -as if Socrates were testing the hypotheses of the Parmenides -in the realm of perception. Thus we read "...nothing can -become greater or less either in size or in number, so -long as it remains equal with itself" (155 a). Again, we -find "...a thing to which nothing is added and from which -nothing is taken away is neither diminished nor increased, -but always remains the same in amount" (155 a). And -",.emust we not say...that a thing which was not at an -earlier instant cannot be at a later instant without -becoming, and being in process of becoming" (155 b)? On -the basis of these axioms, things both change and do not -change and are perceived and are not perceived. "The -conclusion from all this, is, as we said at the outset, -that nothing is one thing by itself but is always in -process of becoming for someone, and being is to be ruled -out altogether" (157 b). All is flux, each is flux. -Socrates wants to make sure that the point has been firmly -made so he asks: "Once more, then, tell me whether you -like this notion that nothing is but is always becoming -good, or beautiful, or any of the other things we mentioned" (157 a). - -The bearing these questions have on the three themes -of eternity, image, and time which we are pursuing is, - - -ibriefly, this; perception deals with appearance and the - - - - - -world of appearance is a fluxion in which all things are -becoming. Therefore, the forms cannot be located in a -completely separate eternal realm which guarantees knowledge. Yet we seem to know. The question is, are the images -which perception furnishes us true because they are neither eternal nor mere appearance? Plato is again posing - -the problem: how can the visible world participate in the -eternal world? In the Theatetus, the question becomes: do -the images which perception gives us make possible a knowledge of the eternal? . - -Socrates reminds us that the "men of flux" constitute -only one group, which is opposed by another group, consisting of Parmenides and Melissus, who hold that "all things -are a unity which stays still by itself, having no room to -move in. How are we to deal with all these combatants? For, -little by little, our advance has brought us, without our -knowing it, between the two lines..." (180 e). Socrates -says that the inquiry will succeed best if the flux -doctrine is examined, and if the re-examination of the -forms is postponed (183 A). - -But let us not be deceived by the atatement that -Parmenides' view is to be postponed. For, no sooner has -Socrates said it, than he enters into discussion of what -is known, and, asks whether all the things that we say we -know are perceived by sense. We say, for example, that a -flower is white and that the flower is. Surely the faculty - -_that says it is white and no white and the faculty that - - -J - - - -says it is and is not, surely these cannot be the same -faculty. - -You mean existence and non-existence, likeness and -unlikeness, sameness and difference, and also unity -and numbers in general as applied to them; and -clearly your question covers even and odd and all -that kind of notions. You are asking through what -part of the body our mind perceives these (185 c)? -Socrates congratulates Theatetus on reaching the conclusion -that the mind is its own instrument in perceiving, since it -saves him a long argument (185 e). Thus, we go beyond the -statement that knowledge is perception, for we know the -existence of a thing not by perception but by the mind's -reflection on something perceived (186 e). And this -reflection is temporal, for all those qualities of which -we spoke (the Parmenidean pairs of contraries) "seem to me -above all to be things whose being is considered, one in -comparison with another, by the mind, when it reflects -upon the past and present with an eye to the future" (186a). -Such reflections upon perception only come, if they come at -all, to those who go through a long and troublesome process -of education (186 c). For, if one cannot reach the existence of a thing, he cannot reach the truth (186 c). -Welcome as it seems, this statement only pushes the -difficulty further back. If the mind's reflection on -itself is like two voices of the mind speaking to each -other, why do we assume that the voices always agree. - - -Cannot the voices of the mind disagree; in short, are all - - -judgments necessarily true? We dismissed Protagoras because - - -tes - - - -he made all perceptions infallible: are we to say we have -gone beyond his position only to assert that all judgments -are infallible (187 a). | - -The suggested approach to the problem of false -judgment is the famous allegory of the wax tablet (191b ff.). -We are asked to imagine that the mind contains a wax -tablet and that ite quality varies in different people: -some have good, clear, firm, wax, others have unclear, -muddy, soft, wax, and so the images which perception -imprints on the tablet vary. In addition, the strength of -the imprint varies. Images are the gifts of Memory, so that, -in any act of knowledge, we must now distinguish the memory -image, the perception (the present image) and the mind's -knowledge (reflection on images with "an eye to the -future"). - -Notice that the basis of this division is temporal, -and not a static hierarchy. Images are not discarded merely -because they are "low," and knowledge is not better merely -because it is "high": we are now asked to see that false -judgments can arise out of faulty matching of remembered -images, present images, and reflections on images with -"an eye to the future." This is a significant advance -over the Republic. - -The discussion of knowledge is further complicated -because we may confuse past images with present images, -past perceptions with present perceptions, past knowledge . - - -.with present knowledge, and each of these may be faulty - - - -both by reason of faulty wax, varying strengths of impres- 7 -sion, or mismatching. Even Theatetus complains of the -complexity. In addition, we have again only pushed the -difficulty further back, because we are assuming that the -mind is infallible, and that is just the problem we wanted -to investigate. "That was the very ground on which we -were led to make out that there could be no such thing as -false judgment: it was in order to avoid the conclusion -that the same man must at the same time know and not know -the same thing" (196 c). - -Socrates reminds Theatetus that the whole conversa~ -tion assumes both that we know, and that we do not know, -what we say. If we do not assume that we can know, convergation is impossible (197 a); If we do not assume that we may -not know, all knowledge is infallible. - -Another allegory is introduced to supplement the -wax tablet. It is the allegory of the Aviary. Where the -allegory of the wax tablet was concerned with images and -the possibilities of conflict between images and reflections -on images, the allegory of the Aviary is concerned with -flying birds, which symbolize reflections i.e., thoughts. -Although reflection upon images gives rise to thoughts, -these thoughts soar and must be recaptured in recollection -4f we are really to know. Here again we are shown that -there is a temporal emphasis to be placed on the acts of - - -knowledge, for, in a sense, knowing is relearning what we - - - - -'knew before (198 e). Yet, if we ask whether some of these -recollections might not also be false, we see that the -criterion of true knowledge remains to be found (200 b). - -Perhaps there is no way to define knowledge, and we -must content ourselves with the statement that perception -gives rise to true belief and opinion. - -Socrates shows that this conclusion is due to an -inaccuracy. For example, he says, the syllable was not, -until the letters were combined in just that fashion; it - - -4s a one after its parts become parts of it (204 a). Here - - -is another recapitulation of the arguments of the Parmenides. It is the same with number: a sum is not a sum -until its component integers are added, and only thereafter -is it one sum (204 e). But this 1s the distinction to be -made (as it was made in the Parmenides): the whole consists -of the parts; not just any parts, considered in themselves, -as unrelated ones, but parts as related. In other words, -the difficulty is only apparent, and it vanishes as soon -as we see that the whole and the parts are not two different things in isolation but related aspect of a One (205 b). - -To conclude, then; if, on the one hand, the - -syllable is the same thing as a number of - -letters and is a whole with the letters as - -parts, then the letters must be neither - -more nor less knowable and explicable than - -syllables, since we made out that all the - -parts are the same thing as the whole (205 a). -Therefore, Socrates concludes that those who hold that the -elements or the whole are more or less knowable than each - - -Other, are playing with us. We can know the elements, as - - - -parts, and therefore, an opinion with an account is -knowledge. - -But what is an account (logos)? It cannot be only an -enumeration of parts as isolated parts (207 e). The other -meaning might be "the image of thought spoken in sound" -or language (208 c). This is the problem, not the answer. -Perhaps marking off a thing and distinguishing it from all -others constitutes a good account (208 d). An account will -then mean putting the thing's "difference" into words. (209a) -But Socrates quickly shows that we must first know the -common to distinguish the different, which begs the question of knowledge. (209 e) Therefore it does not seem true -to say that knowledge is opinion with an account of -difference, unless we already know the common on the basis -of which we distinguish the difference. (Although this is -what we do, it 1s not a definition of knowledge since it -includes "knowing the common" in its "definition"). - -| The dialogue ends a few lines later with Socrates -saying that all the definitions of knowledge so far -adduced are mere "wind-eggs" (210 b). Theatetus is told -that the mid-wife's art is a heavenly gift which Socrates -uses on those in whom beauty resides, and that as a result -of this gymnastic they have engaged in, Theatetus will -thereafter be better enabled to know what knowledge is. -The conclusion, on the surface, is that we know, but cannot - - -define what knowledge is. Actually, we have said several - - - - -'things about what it is not, and therefore Theatetus has -made progress along the "long way" which is required for -this sort of knowledge. That is why the last words of the -dialogue are "But tomorrow morning, Theatetus, let us -meet again" (210 d). -Summary - -What have we learned about eternity, moving images, -and time? A great deal, it seems. And what we have learned -cannot be separated from the doctrines of the dialogues we - - -have considered so far. We see in the Theatetus that some - - -of the positions of the Republic and of the Parmenides have - - -been reexamined and certain modifications have taken place. -We know now that knowledge must include, but is not -exhaustively defined by, moving images of thought, (birds); -that we cannot refer to parts in isolation but must discuss -them as they are related in a One; that the mere enumeration -of elements does not comprise an explanation; and, above all, -that we know, but do not know how we know. In addition, - -and perhaps this is the most striking conclusion of all, - -we have seen that the mind can be viewed as conversing - -with itself, and that this internal dialogue consists of - -the attempt to put images and reflection on the past, -present, and future in their right order. We have advanced -far beyond the naive view that the mind is a static camera -whose job it is to escape the transient shadows of perception in a flight to eternal forms. We are now told that it - - -1 : - - - -is the task of mind to discern the right temporal order of -ita ingredients, so to speak. However, even after all -these things have been done, we still do not have a -definition of knowledge. The important point to notice is - - -that the steps and hypotheses of the Theatetus are no - - -longer regarded as inferior but as necessary preliminaries -in the "long way" which the mind must take to true knowledge. - -Somehow, we have found, not what knowledge is, but -what complete knowledge is not. This insight, namely, that -somehow what is not, in some way, must be included in what -is, will be examined in the next dialogue, the Sophist, -which can, from certain points of view, be regarded as a -triumphant breakthrough into another whole way of philosophizing. - -The Sophist - -We enter now into the series of dialogues unanimously regarded as the late group, in which Plato's evolved -reflections are to be found. The Sophist begins with a -dramatic introduction which includes the participants of the -Theatetus, but now we meet an additional person, an Eleatic -Stranger. This scems to be the fulfillment of the Theatetus' -promise to consider the Parmenidean approach to truth -after the Theatetug dealt with the "men of flux." It is -further interesting to note that the Stranger begins the -whole dialogue by using a method which is unavailable to -_the men of flux, namely, the method of division, which - - - -seemed to the men of flux to presume knowledge, not to - - -seek it. (This point will be expanded in the Statesman). - - -The Stranger does not allude to this hypothetical difficulty, and he employs the method without question. This confirms the hint that we are now to inspect the heritage of - - -the Parmenides, not in the manner of the Theatetus, nor - - -exactly in the manner of the Parmenides, but in some new -way to deal with philosophical inquiry. And, as we shall -see, we are told new things about eternity, images, and time. - -It is agreed that a trial run of this method should -be had before the Sophist is defined, and they agree to -use an easy example, the angler one familiar to them all. -This is important because it assumes the results of the -Theatetus; the angler is at once a familiar experience but -an undefined reality. - -The definition of the Angler is reached, and the -method of "halving" is satisfactorily put to the test. -What is of special interest to us here is the difference -between this kind of division, and the method of elimination which Plato had previously used in the Republic. - -In the sort of dividing which Plato accomplishes here, it -4a necessary for the divider to proceed very carefully and -to divide the subject into exact halves, so that only -what actually pertains to the subject is retained and -what ta found not to pertain to the subject nevertheless - - -reveals something about the subject (221 b). If the - - - -division is not well made, the remainder will contain too -much, that is, the definition will remain too vague. Only -by carefully determining what something is not can one -reach a precise knowledge of what something is. Thus it is -incorrect to equate the method of division which we find -in the Sophist to the method of residues which we confronted -in the Republic. The latter proceeds by eliminating classes -of objects, the former by dividing within a class of -objects. - -It 4s necessary to notice, however, that the Stranger -provides the divisions, and that Plato passes over the -fact that in some way the Stranger knows what divisions are -most helpful. It is almost as if the Stranger already has a -higher wisdom. In other words, he does not draw his -distinctions from appearance, but somehow draws them from -a higher kind of knowledge. It 1s important to emphasize -this point because it is in strong contrast to the method -advocated by the men of flux in the Theatetus. - -Having defined the Angler, Socrates now attempts to -define the Sophist. To those he convinces, the Sophist -seems to know all things, and to be versed in every art, -but such competence is impossible. Now we approach the -central concern. For the Sophist cannot truly be what he -claims to be, yet he certainly appears to be. Appearance -and reality cannot be the same, yet the question is, how - - -do they differ. This question might be called the most - - - -important question in all of Plato's dialogues so far. The — -definition of the Sophist, then, is a case in point: we -are to investigate this partisuien gentleman, as we -investigated the Angler, in order to discover how reality -is, and what appearance seems to be; in the language of -this study, how the eternal forms are related to the temporal world. - -The Stranger asserts that the Sophist is an imitator, -and that sufficient division of the imitative art will -reveal him. Just as imitation may be divided in two kinds, -so the images which imitation produces are of two kinds; -some images (eikastike) are like reality in that they are -faithful to the proportions of the original (235 da); others -distort the proportions of the reality, and these we shall -call fantasies (phantastike) (236 b). But now the problem -becomes even greater, because to distinguish the image -from the reality we have to say that the image is not the -reality. How can @ man say what is not true, or assert the -existence of what is not. The word which Parmenides forbade -Must be uttered - not-being (237 a). No sooner do we -distinguish the image from the reality than we distinguish -notebeing from being. At this point, Plato leaps beyond the -level of Parmenides’ and of his own earlier philosophy, and -reaches out into virgin territory. And at this point, -Plato's most crucial discussion of the meaning of the word - - -image is begun. - - - - -Surely, the Stranger asserts, we cannot just say -that what ia, is not. Yet we say "notebeing" as if it were -a singular; we say "not-beings" in the plural. We agree -that not=being is unutterable and inconceivable, and yet -we speak the words; in short, in the act of saying we -cannot say it, we are saying it (238 c). This is the dark -hole into which the Sophist retreats when we try to refute -him, for, if we say that an opinion of his is false, we -assert that it 4s-not true, and in so doing, we assert -that it isenot, and he therby chides us on this contradiction (239 a). This is precisely what happens if we ask -him what an image is. "How can I describe an image except -as another made in the likeness of the true" (240 a). But -1f it is other than the true, it is other than what is, and - - -hence it isenot. The Stranger then begs not to be accused -of patricide, for, if they are to catch the Sophist in their -dialectical trap, the philosophy of Parmenides must be put -to the test (241 a). In a certain sense, we must say that -notebeing is, and being is-not. - -The Stranger then says that the predicament in which -they now find themselvea is due to the fact that the former -philosophers treated their hearers with disdain, as if -dealing with children. They followed their arguments whereever they led and left the children to wonder at their -meanings, because they spoke in myths, among which he -classes the One and the Many (242 e), the myths of strife - - - -and peace, the three principles at war in the soul, the -moist and the dry, and includes in this group the Ionian -and Sicilian explanations in mythical garb (242 da). He -says that a discussion of most of these myths may be -deferred to a later occasion; at present, the chief of -iheus will be discussed; the myth of the One and the Many. - -The Stranger proceeds to recapitulate several of the - - -points made in the Parmenides, citing this as the main - - -difficulty among all those presented by the myth~makers. -He shows that both the unity and the existence of a One -cannot be the same parts, nor can any of the pairs of -predicates be reduced to a simple identity, since, if one -of a pair is chosen as being, the other must then be other -than being, i.e., notebeing (245 a). - -The materialists who claim that only the tangible -exists are then subjected to a critique. Their opponents -are also brought forward, and these are the "friends of the -Forms," who disolve tangible realities in a sea of corruption and generation. None of these schools, Plato tells us, -are able to deal intelligently with the question now before -them: the question of notebeing. Having reached this point, -Plato can no longer choose from existing alternatives. The -Stranger says "Let us improve them, if we can" (245 e). - -The doctrine he develops to accomplish this improvement is -the doctrine for which this dialogue is noted, the doctrine - - -of notebeing. It must be shown how justly this doctrine may - - - - - -be said to constitute an advance, by comparing and -contrasting it to earlier philosophies. For example, if, - -on the one hand, the materialists were to admit that there -is a difference between things and thoughts, they would - -be forced to admit that there are some incorporeal -existences, and if this were admitted, they could be asked -Whether being is common to both. If pa the other hand, the -friends of the Forms distinguish between what is and what -is generated, both being and generation will have to share -in something common, just as the materialists had to admit -that something was common to things and thoughts (248 e). -Now both the materialists and the friends of the Forms are -caught. As soon as the friends of the Forms admit that -knowing and being known are different, that one is active -and one is passive, they will see that one is powerful, the -other is not. Thus the Stranger suggests that Being is -Power. If the friends of the Forms deny this, by claiming -that knowing is only a motion as in generation, there will -be no knowledge at all. So there must be motion in knowing. -"and, Oh Heavens, can we ever be made to believe that -motion and life and soul and mind are not present with -Being. Can we imagine Being to be devoid of life and mind, -and to remain in awful unmeaning and everlasting fixture" (248 e)? Clearly, they cannot. Therefore, "We must -include motion under being, and that which is moved" (249b). - - -As we shall see, this is an important anticipation - - - -of the Timaeus. And yet, if all things are in motion, there -can be no sameness or permanence or relation to the same. -The philosopher must be equally deaf to those who say all -is in motion and to those who say there is no motion. Somehow, we must have both, yet somehow we can have neither -alone. Further, if we have only a third, this third will -not be either nor will it be both (250 b). - -This is not the place for a long discussion of the -Stranger's solution to this difficulty. We are interested -only in its relevance to the themes of eternity, image, and -time. Suffice it to say that, in the following brief -summary, I am all too aware of the danger of flatly stating -the results of a long philosophical process. However, -brevity must be attempted. - -We see, then, that being and notebeing are equally -perplexing. The Stranger suggests that we try to work out -the doctrine of not-being, in the realm of predication. Can -we say that all of the Forms indicated by names, of which -there are thousands of pairs, can be mixed with each other, -or only that some forms mix, or must we say that no forms -mix (251 d). - -These tentative conclusions are tested on the -examples of grammar and music, where we see now that only -some letters go with certain others, and only certain -notes go with certain others. Similarly, he who develops - - -the art which knows which of the forms go with which other - - - -forms, is truly the philosopher, and the art of division -is his art and his alone. - -The philosopher knows that Rest and Motion, Same and -Other, are the most general divisions of being, although he -is hard to see by excess of light (254 a). (As we saw in -the Republic cave). Rest and Motion do not communicate with -each other, but being communicates with them both. Same and -Other do not communicate with each other, but being -communicates with them both. But Motion and Rest communicate -with Same and Other, and therefore, Motion is both Same -and Other than being. In other words, Motion is both -being and notebeing. And Rest is both being and not-being. -And Same is both being and notebeing. "Every class, than, -has plurality of being and infinity of notebeing" (256 e). -And - -Whereas, we have not only shown that things which - -are not exist, but we have also shown what form - -of being notebeing is; for we have shown that the - -nature of the other exists and is distributed over - -all things in their mutual relations, and when each -part of the other is contrasted with being, that is -precisely what we have ventured to call note - -being (258 e). - -There is one last refuge, the realm of images, into -which the Sophist will now try to escape. The Sophist will -contend that only some images partake of falsity, but the -ones that he uses do not. Images are again divided, as -before, into two sorts, the images which are like the - - -original in proportion, and the others, which are fantasies - - -and distortions. If the art of philosophical division will - - - -be applied to images, the Sophist will be deprived of his -last refuge (264 e). - -Since images are either divinely produced or humanly -produced (265 b), the Stranger himself suggests that they -discuss divinely produced images at greater length. - -Looking now at the world and all the animals and - -plants which grow upon the earth from seeds and - -roots, and at inanimate substances which form -within the earth, fusile or non-fusile, shall we -say that they come into existence, not having -existed previously, in any way but by creation - -of God, or shall we agree with vulgar opinion - -about them (265 c)? - -Notice that the creation of the world is spoken -in @ context of a division of images, not of Forms. Plato -will expand on this point at much greater length when he -reaches the Timaeus, but now, since Theatetus agrees with -him the Stranger says he will postpone this extended -discussion: right now he wants to trap the Sophist, once -and for all. - -We now confront, yet again, a divided line. But, -like the previous discussion of images, it is a more -developed doctrine than it was in the Republic. Having -divided image-making into human and divine, we now must -divide images into genuine images and fantasies (266 e). -Thus, there are both human and divine images, and human -and divine fantasies. As an example of divine images -which are genuine, we have the whole world of things. As - - -an example of fantasies, we have shadows caused by things - - -interrupting firelight, as in the analogy of the cave. - - - - -Human images can be seen in those genuine imitations which -preserve the proportions of the originals, as for example -in true speech. The next subdivision, false images, or -human fantasies, is found to be the realm of the Sophist. - -One further division remains. He who imitates and -knows that he imitates genuinely, is not a Sophist, but a -philosopher. It is the Sophist who imitates fantasies. -Summary - -What have we learned from this dialogue, with reference to the themes of eternity, image, and time. Obviously, -the most significant doctrinal advances were made with -respect to images, where we learn that their production is -both a human and a divine art. But more deeply, it has -emerged that not-being cannot be divided absolutely from -being, and that the entire realm of things is suffused with -both being and not-being. One is tempted to assert that -the gap between the realms of eternity and time has been -closed, but Plato has not explicitly said this and the -adoption of this conclusion would be premature. What has -been explicitly shown is that the Parmenidean isolation of -the One, beyond all predication and therefore beyond all -time is unfruitful, and Plato has advanced beyond the -Parmenidean position. The realm of the Forms cannot be a -separate realm, as it was described in foregoing dialogues. -Just as we have advanced from a faulty conception of being - - -through a notion of notebeing, so we have advanced from a - - - -faulty notion of the realm of the Forms through notions -of what the Forms are not. Of time, we are told little in -an explicit way. But one should notice that the Parmenidean -"queer instant," what we have called "not-time" has been -generalized, for the Sophist shows that not-being is to -being what not-time is to time. - - -The Statesman - - -The participants of this dialogue begin their -dialectical search for the definition of the Statesman, -utilizing the method of division developed in the Sophist. -But, the Eleatic Stranger now cautions the hearers not to -divide arbitrarily and too quickly, but to make sure that -the divisions they follow in the argument are real divisions into real classes, and not arbitrary divisions for -which names are invented. - -The general point deserves to be underscored. Plato -is reminding us that division which proceeds only in haste -to reach a fore-ordained conclusion is sophistic. Such a -division ignores the fact, established in the Sophist, that -not all classes communicate with each other, and so division must follow the lines which mark off real classes from -fantasies. "We must not attempt too general a division of -the class..." (263 e). "More haste...(means)...less -speed" (264 b). It is especially necessary to draw out -the implication that an empirical acquaintance with classes - - -of objects is necessary for the process of right division. - - - - -the dialogue proceeds with the method of dividing -until it reaches the conclusion that the Statesman is he -who uses the predictive art of knowledge, runs herds of -living things, which live on land, who are hornless, who -do not interbreed with other classes of animals, and who -are two-footed. But the Stranger is not satisfied (267a,b,c). -For, unlike the shepherd, the Statesman's right to rule is -disputed by the herd. A new beginning must be made. 'the -Stranger announces that he will approach the subject by -employing a myth. But the Stranger says that his tale is -not to be a retelling of the familiar myth of Kronos, but -the Stranger's own version, which, he says, is the basis -of all such stories. In so saying, Plato undercuts the -myths he has told in the preceding dialogues, from the myth -of Er in the Republic, through and including the One and -Many, which he presents and criticises, respectively, in -the Parmenides and the Sophist. We shall see that even the -myth of Kronos shall be transcended in the Timaeus. - -'the Stranger tells us that the universe was once -helped in its rotation by the god who framed it in the -beginning, but that it completed its circle of rotation -and then set itself in rotation in the opposite direction. -It did so of its own natural necessity, which the Stranger -will now explain (269 4d). - -It 4s the only prerogative of divine things to be -steadfast and abiding, but the universe, since it partakes - - - -of the bodily, cannot enjoy this rank. However, as far as -possible, it will have uniform rotation (269 e), and -rotation in reverse is at least in a uniform direction, -which is as close to the divine as it can be. Even the -divine god could not change this direction for it would -violate eternal decrees. Therefore, there are many things -we cannot say of this universe: neither that it revolves -entirely by itself, nor that the god revolves it in its -entirety, nor that a pair of divinities revolve it in -opposite directions (270 a). In one era it is moved by the -god and has its own sort of immortality, in another era it -revolves by itself of its own momentun. - -At the time when the reversal of rotation takes -place, human life experiences great changes. The course of -life itself reverses, and the old grow younger and younger -become children and finally wither away (270 e). On the -other hand, the race of eartheborn men, long dead, now are -reborn out of the earth, as they were in the former -rotation (271 ¢c). - -Since a reversal of motion takes place at both the -restoration of proper motion and at the onset of reversal, -the Stranger tells about the time when the universe was -helped in its rotation by the god. In that era, all things -came about without men's labor. When this god was shepherd, -there were no political constitutions and no personal - - -possession of wives or children, since all men rose up - - - -fresh out of the earth with no memories. (This is the -analogue of the "waters of forgetfulness" in the myth of -Er). Neither did they need clothing or beds but disported -themselves in the open. Such was the reign of Kronos (272b). - -"The crucial question is-did the nurselings of Kronos -make a right use of their time" (272 b)? They certainly had -the opportunity to engage in philosophy, since they had -the requisite leisure, and if they did, their happiness -would be a thousandfold greater than ours. "Be that as it -may, let us leave this question aside until we find some~ -one (Timaeus?) who can inform us accurately whether or not -their hearts were set on gaining knowledge and engaging -in discussion" (272 a). - -When the era of Kronos came to an end, the drastic -experiences of reversal of motion again took place. The -god released his helping hand and a great shock went -through the earth. It tried to follow out the instructions -given to it by its father, but gradually the bodily element -gained sway, and it approached the primordial chaos out of -which it had been fashioned (273 b). At this moment, the -god again beholds it, and seeing its time of trouble, again -resumes the helm. - -But we are not now in the era of Kronos. It has now -been ordained that the universe must take sole responsibility for its course, and, following and imitating the change -in the universe, all things have to change, and, in - - -,particular, a new law of birth and nurture is now binding - - - -on all creatures (274 8). Since we do not have this -guardianship of the god to follow, but, "imitating the -universe and following it through all time, we live and -grow at one time in this way and at another time in -that" (274 e). As we shall see, the Timaeus advances beyond -these doctrines, especially beyond this particular doctrine -of necessity. - -The relevance of this myth to the definition of the -Statesman is now revealed by the Stranger. Since there are, -in either era of rotation, men who were sired in the former -era, we must be careful to look for the right models of the -Statesman. In the era of the gods' rule, the shepherds -experience no strife, since all is in harmony; but in the -subsequent era, the shepherd is forced of necessity to care -for a strife-torn flock. Which of these is the Statesman -most like (275 a)? - -Before answering this, let us note that there are -several features of the myth of Kronos, as the Stranger -composes it, which pertain to our tracing the themes of -time, image, and eternity. We are told that the unlverse -is framed by inserting order into chaos, that time is -governed by the motion of the revolving universe, and that -the bodily element is the cause of the corruption and decay -of an era. This would seem to reverse the claim of the - - -mature character of the Statesman, since it resembles the - - -doctrine of bodily imperfection, an early doctrine. However, - - - -it 48 a children's tale, and, as we shall see, Plato will -not allow it to pass without criticism. The most important -feature, for our purposes, is the intimacy with which the -notion of right rule is connected with the right time and -the right revolution of the spheres. We have come far from -the bland assertion that there is a single pattern laid up -in heaven which he who is willing can easily discern. Now -we are charged with the need to see how right order in the -state is dependent on the order of the heavens because they - - -are linked by time. We should further note the Statesman's - - -anticipation of the Timaeus in its description of the -demiurge and the world soul in the universe described as a -living creature. - -It emerges that the whole reason for the recounting -of the Kronos myth was to show that the first image of the -Statesman was incorrect, because it really represented a -Statesman from the wrong cosmic cycle, innapropriate to -the cycle we are now following (275). The shepherd of the -other cycle is much more like a divine shepherd, whereas our -cycle seems to produce tyrants. Even so, the myth of Kronos -4s insufficient, and it is said to be too long. It was -assumed that a grand myth was necessary, as fitting kingly -responsibility, but, as usual, we went too fast in our -haste to arrive at a definition (277 b). - -The Stranger admits that it is difficult to explain - - -anything without the use of examples, and he is now in the - - - -strange predicament of using examples to explain his -doctrine of examples (277 d)! The familiar pedagogical -device of the alphabet is again resuscitated, and the use -of known syllables next to unknown syllables is put forward -as an instance in which similarities and differences can -be distinguished (278 b). Our own mind reacts the same -way to the letters with which the universe is spelled out. -(Again, the cosmological concern) The Stranger admits -however, that notwithstanding his familiarity with the -letters in one combination it is difficult to recognize -them in another setting (278 d). - -Another analogy is introduced, and this time it is -the weaver's art. A long semi-technical discussion of -weaving arrives at the fact that the weaver is a uniter, -but he needs the carder, who separates fibers, so that the -weavers art consists of both separating and combining (283b) -In other words, the proper art of dialectic consists in the -skillful handling of both the warp and the woof of being, -or, as we saw in the Sophist, the correet analysis of -being and not-being. It is noteworthy that the Stranger -here, as he did in the Sophist, agrees to supply the -divisions, or else the argument would have become interminable. Here 1s another hint that he who uses the method of -division must know in advance where he is going, a point -which the men of flux advanced. But, instead of confronting - - -this objection head-on, the Stranger attacks it from - - - -another direction; through the question of relative -measure, of excess and of defect. - -It is quickly ascertained that if the greater is -greater only by relation to the smaller, and the smaller is -smaller only by relation to the greater, there is no way -to say what is right in itself (283 e). Therefore, there -must be a standard of wieaeuse to which they both approximate in some way. (And so the Forms are reasserted). In the -same manner, if there were no standard, there would be no -way of dividing the unjust from the just man, nor, for -that matter, would it be possible to discern the right -practice of any art. "Must we not do now what we had to do -when we discussed the Sophist. We felt constrained there -to admit that what is not-x nevertheless exists..." (284 b) -So there must be two standards of measure, one having to do -with measures relative to each other, and the second those -which "comprise arts concerned with due measure, due -occasion, due time, due performance, and all such standards -as have removed their abode from the extremes and are now -settled about the mean" (284 e). This seems to refer to -the Pythagoreans, who assert that measure has to do with -all things brought into being, but who fail to see that -there are two sorts of measure, and who therefore are -prohibited from seeing that there are real classes of -things with affinities for one another, just as there are -real differences between some things which therefore have - - -no affinity for one another (285 a,b,c). It is necessary - - - -to divide according to real classes, not merely to divide -every item from every other. This is another recapitulation -of the Sophist: only some forms communicate with each -other. - -This view is asserted in another way when the Stranger -says, - -Some of the things that have true existence and are - -easy to understand have images in nature which are - -accesible to the senses, so that when someone asks -for an account of any one of them, one has no - -trouble at alleone can simply point to the sensible - -image and dispense with any account in words. But - -to the highest and most important class of existents - -(being) there are no corresponding images, no work - -of nature clear for all to look upon (285 e). - -In short, the classes of being have images, but being -itself does not. The important political corollary of this -becomes evident in the Stranger's description of the -unlikelihood of the many ever achieving the art of statecraft, since the true science of statecraft is like the -true science of being: it has no images, and it would be -quite out of the question to look for fifty kings at any -one time (292 e). - -It 4s important here to comment on what has been -said about the lack of images of being, for, at first -sight, it seems to contradict the trend we have been -tracing through the late dialogues. Plato has told us (in -the Sophist) that only some of the classes of being -communicate with each other, and he reminds us of it here. - - -When he says that there are no images of being, he seems to - - -(Mean, that there are no sensory images for the sort of - - - -pure unmixed being which Parmenides described. But we have — -already seen another sort of being in the Sophist. The -lack of images, then, pertains to the classes of being, -not to being as such nor to beings as such. - -I do not wish to enter into a lengthy exegesis of the -Statesman concerning law and political philosophy. Let it - - -suffice here to write that the Statesman should posess the -true art of law-making, that this art depends on his real -knowledge, of which the laws will be images, and that he -shall have to weave the special knowledge of the special -departments of life together as best he can, for he can best -do so. Those who follow those laws, and who know them to be -images, live in Justice. Those who follow the laws and do -not know they are images, at least follow a just life -unknowingly (291-300). - -The final task of the dialogue is to describe how -the life of the state is woven by the Statesman. We are -confronted with the daring statement that the virtues which -comprise the state are, in contradistinction to those -described in the Republic, not at harmony with each other, -which means that the several parts of goodness are actue -ally not in accord (306 c). What is the Statesman to do -about this? He is to establish a training program to -bring out the best qualities of future citizens, some of -whom will have opposite virtues. He weaves both sorts into -the fabric of the state, some forming the warp and some - - -_ forming the woof. This training program "first unites that - - - -element in their soul which is eternal, by a divine bond, -since it is akin to the divine. After this divine bond, it -will in turn unite their animal nature by human bonds" -(309 b). In short, the Statesman will implant in every -citizen in the state what we would call a sense of values, -whether they understand them to be of eternal origin or -not, and he will accomplish the insertion of this warp by -a clever weaving of the woof, the human element. In this -way, citizens will at least imitate, albeit unknowingly, -their right measure and true standard. More specifically, -the Statesman will require those who give evidence of -divine wisdom to intermarry with those who seem without it, -and so interweave the divine and the human. Thus for -example, instead of inbreeding a race of warriors who will -eventually get out of hand by sheer power of zeal, or, on -the other hand, inbreeding a race of perennial moderates -who never dare to invent, the Statesman will see to it -that there are cross fertilizations of these two breeds. -In this way the best weave is had, which marries the -gentle to the brave. Socrates ends the dialogue by saying -"You have drawn to perfection, sir, the image of the true -king and statesman" (311 c). - - -Summary -After a rather comical beginning, the Statesman - - -quickly discards the first definition of the Statesman. -The Myth of Kronos is put between it and the next attempt, - - -Ls - - - - - -'and ita results are that the Statesman must have a real -knowledge of the rotation of the universe in order to -ascertain the right time for the right kind of image of -the ruler. There are certain necessities of cosmic motion -which must be imitated in the ruler's art. The Pythagoreans -are chided for their remorseless division without regard -for real classes and true dialectic. - -But perhaps the clearest indication of Plato's -development of the themes of eternity, image, and time in -this dialogue is to be found in the view that the true -Statesman is he who weaves the being and notebeing of -opposing virtues into the fabric of the state, an eternal -warp and a temporal woof, which are to be interbred via -marriage across real classes. - -wo themes stand out as clear anticipations of the -Timaeus: the concern for cosmological time, in the myth -of Kronos, and the introduction of the sexual allegory, - - -which, as we shall see, in the Timaeus, is generalized. - - -However, before we reach the Timaeus, we must see -how the Philebus treats these themes. -The Philebus - - -If one approaches the Philebus with the expectation -that it will deal with some of the topics of the Statesman -in a more developed manner, its opening passages seem to be -anachronistic, for the dialogue begins with a discussion of - - -the relative merits of pleasure and wisdom (11 a), subjects - - - -discussed in great detail in the Republic. But it soon -becomes apparent that the discussion will be anything but -a simple repetition. For example, when Socrates asks -whether there might not be a third state even better than -pleasure or wisdom, or whether some mixture of the two is -preferable, we see that the theme of mixture, as introduced -in the Sophist and evolved in the Statesman, is actually to -be reexamined in the context of an ethical inquiry. - -It is agreed that there are many pleasures, each of -which differ from the others. This simple observation -serves to reintroduce the problem of the One and the Many -on an ethical level, and with this reintroduction, we will -be confronted with the modifications and developments which -the subjects of pleasure and wisdom must receive in the -light of Plato's later reflections. hus, 1t is agreed -that unity and diversity of pleasures is "the same old -argument" (13 c). Somehow, the unity and diversity of -pleasure must be understood, not in the old way, but in a -new way. 'he key to the new way is the principle of -Difference. - -It is said that this principle of Difference is a -marvel of nature because it asks us to affirm that "one -would be many or many one" (13 e). No one any longer argues -that it 1s marvelous to assert that Socrates is many and -one because he has many limbs but is only one Socrates: - - -everyone has agreed to dismiss this as childish (14 d). - - -is - - - - - -Here the initial impression of anachronism fades -completely, for the passage clearly asserts that it is -childish to continue to play on the words "one" and "many" - - -now that the Parmenides and the Sophist and the Statesman - - -have advanced so far beyond this verbal naivete. He who -asserts that the One or the Beautiful or the Good have a -real existence which in some way is beyond generation or -destruction, introduces a problem of far greater import -than the problem of matching names and things (15 a). For, -if these Forms are real, and if they are always the same, -or if they are said to have a permanent individuality, he -who asserts these propositions is dealing with matters of -greater depth than seems at first apparent. In the same -way, if one asserts that these Forms can be dispersed and -multiplied in the world of generation and the endless -number of things which compose this world, he involves -himself ina difficulty, for he seems to assert that the -Forms are at once what they are in themselves and at the -Same time in the world of many things (15 c). In short, -he who asserts that there are many pleasures and who says -at the same time that Pleasure is a One, involves himself -in the difficulties of "the old argument" and since the -old argument has not been resolved, one cannot pretend -that it 1s a simple assertion when he says that there are -many pleasures, all of which are Pleasure. - -To put the matter in our own way, we should say that - - -(the statement "there are many pleasures, each of which - - - -shares in the idea of Pleasure" involves all of the -aifficulties which Plato has been examining in the -Parmenides, the Sophist, and the Statesman. In short, we -are confronted with nothing less than a philosophical -summary of the problems and doctrines which Plato confronted -in the late dialogues. - -Notice that it is openly admitted that the verbal -assertion of both the unity and the diversity of Socrates -is "childish," and no longer a cause for wonder. The whole -world is said to know this now. Plato seems to be saying -here that there are deeper issues at stake than the -linguistic gymnastics these issues first created. True, -these questions will be discussed, but their resolution -will take place on a higher plane than it had heretofore. -As usual, Plato begins a difficult investigation by -focusing on the practical face of the deeper problem. Notice -too that these questions about pleasure and wisdom are not -mere allegories or childrens’ stories; they are the points -of departure. Plato intends, as we shall see, to apply -the method of division, which he has been perfecting in - - -the Sophist and the Statesman, to the questions of ethical - - -import involved in a discussion of pleasure and wisdom and -their relative merits. But in addition to applying the -method, he will perfect it further, and greater insight -4nto the method as well as its applicability will be - - -reached. It is no longer possible to begin with the simple - - - -separation of the One and the Many, because the method -of division has gone beyond this level of simplicity. - -The One and the Many, therefore are said to "run -about everywhere together, in and out of every word" (15 a} -Therefore, we must not divide too quickly between the One -and the Many, or run too quickly from the Many to the One. -The endless number of the Many is a kind of infinity, that -is, a lack of determined specificity, or, in another sense, -\& vague and indefinite formlessness. - -The infinite must not be allowed to approach the - -many until the entire number of species - -intermediate between unity and infinity has been - -found out-then and not until then may we rest - -from division (16 e). - -The familiar analogy of the alphabet is offered, and -it is agreed that every sound we utter is both one and -infinite, that is, a sound is at once just this sound, -but in another sense it is only a sound, which by itself -has no meaning, just as letters by themselves have no -meaning until they are related to each other in words. But -the precise knowledge of the number and nature of each -sound is the special province of the grammarian (17 b), -just as the precise knowledge of tones and their intervals -4s the province of the musician (17 c). - -In this way, Plato seems to say quite clearly that -the way to knowledge is neither the addition of elements -to each other without regard to the kinds of relations - - -these elements must have to be intelligible, nor the - - - -simple recitation of the name we give to them to create -the appearance of their simple unity. - - -Since these themes were treated in the Statesman - - -it seems reasonable to place the Philebus after it. It was -necessary to insert this point here because the degree of -unanimity with which the scholars agree that the Statesman -succeeds the Sophist 1s not had in the placement of the - - -Philebus after the Statesman. It seems now that the Philebus can be read more intelligently by placing it after the -Statesman but before the Timaeus, but we shall have to see -whether this is true after reading the Timaeus. - -The method of division, as developed in the Statesman, - - -is summoned here in the Philebus to do service in the - - -quest for the nature of pleasure and the nature of wisdom. -We have seen that Plato regards Unity as the dialectical -opposite of infinity, which, for him, means the indeterminite vagueness or an unspecific description of an element, -without some account of its manner of relation to its -fellows. In this respect, it is striking to note a brief -allegory of the god Theuth, whom the Egyptians describe as -the author and divider and enumerator of sounds in music - - -and grammar (18 ad). As we shall see, the Timaeus will test - - -the method of division on a cosmic scale in a tale similarly attributed to an Egyptian priest. -In any event, the problem now is not merely to - - -assert the unity and the infinity of number, or pleasure, - - - - - -or wisdom, but to ascertain the kinds of each, and, by -implication, the Unity, Likeness, Sameness and the opposites in everything (19 b). Whereas Socrates once preferred -to discuss the Forms and to avoid the realm of things, he -does not fear to enter into this latter problem now, -because, just at this instant, some god appears to have -given him a new memory (20 b). - -Socrates quickly convinces Philebus that he would -not even have full pleasure if he did not also have mind -and aenery and knowledge, because, without them, he would -not know whether he was experiencing pleasure. Similarly -if he had no memory he would not remember pleasure, which -4s also pleasant, nor, without "true opinion" would he be -able to perceive present pleasures. In the same way, had -he no knowledge, he would be unable to calculate future -pleasures (21 b). Similarly, a life of mind without -pleasure or pain would be unfeeling. Therefore, somehow we -must have both in a union, which is a kind of third (22 a). -But, on this account, neither pleasure nor wisdom can be -the good, which was decided (at 19) to be the most perfect. -Socrates exempts divine mind from this refutation, admitting only that human minds are excluded from exclusive -posession of the Good (22 c). For, the divine mind may -turn out to be the cause of the three, and, in that case, -4t will be a fourth. There may even be a fifth, but that -will be discussed later. - - - - -When we say something is hotter or colder, we make : -\& comparison, and such comparisons are always relative, -admitting of degrees, and this is an endless business -because such measures suggest no way to establish a stable -measure. Thus, the class of all such comparatives includes -an infinite, i.e., an unlimited number. However, the class -of unnumbered things itself is the unity of such comparatives (25 a). On the other hand, its opposite, the class of -all numbered things, admits quantity and is therefore -finite, or limited, and here too, the class itself is the -unity of these (25 b). - -Now, let them be mixed and let the offspring of -these two classes be inspected. For out of their union -comes a third class which has been generated by their -mixture, and it includes all things so generated by the -limitation of the unlimited (26 d). Further, the cause of -thie union is not the same as any of the three classes so -achieved, and it therefore must be a fourth class (27 b). -The problem is to ascertain which class pertains to mind, -for, obviously, pleasure is of the first class since it -always admits of degree. In this regard, the question is -raised: - -ee eWhether all of this which they call the universe - -is left to the guidance of an irrational and random - -chance, or, on the contrary, as our fathers have - -declared, ordered and governed by a@ marvelous - -intelligence and wisdom...Wide asunder are the two - -assertions, Socrates, for that which you are now - - -saying is blasphemy; but the other assertion, that -mind orders all things, is worthy of the respect of - - - - - -the world, and of the sun, and of the moon, and -of the whole circle of the heavens;...(28 da). -Here, quite obviously, is a clear anticipation of - - -the Timaeus. In addition, we are next presented with an - - -analysis of the elements of bodies, which are said to be -the traditional fire, air, water and earth, and, just as -before, the mere enumeration of their discreteness does not -explain their unity, for they are united in a body (29 ad). -The further point is that the universe too consists of -these elements but it too is a unity. And of course, it -would be folly to assert that the unity of the universe -depends on our bodies; rather, we depend on its unity. The -analogy is carried further, because we know that we have -souls, and, in the same way, we must assert that our souls -depend on the soul of the univeree. Further, as bodies -consist of four elements, so the four classes previously -discovered may be considered as these elements; that is, -the unlimited, the limited, their offspring, mixture, and -the cause of their union, are in fact the true meanings of -fire, air, earth and water. The universal fire which 1s -the cause of our fire is the hidden meaning of mind as -the cause of the universe (30 d). So we must conclude that -the universe consists of four elements and that we are -similarly constructed, and our construction depends on its. -Fire, earth, water, and land correspond to the -unlimited, limited, mixture and cause. It is not said - - -le - - - -which elements correspond to which elements, but it is -clear that mind corresponds to fire, both in us and in the -universe, It goes without too much comment that this -doctrine goes beyond a simple Heracliteanism or Pythagoreanism or Anaxagoreanism, or Anaximanders3anism. It is, in -my view, the seed of the more exact and detailed view - - -which we shall find in the Timaeus. - - -In the remainder of the dialogue, there is a delineation and cross comparison of the types of pleasure and pain, including the cognate emotions, and desires. It would -be tempting to enter into a detailed commentary on this -section of Plato's philosophy to show some of its origins -or that certain doctrines of the modern giants of depth -psychology are deeply in Plato's debt. However, our purpose -here is to trace three themes insofar as Plato treats them -explicitly. Perhaps a short summary will not be too deficient. - -Just as there are four classes of elements which -enter into the composition of the body and of the universe, -so there are four classes to be discerned in the discussion -of pleasure. However, it is more complicated here, since -there are four classes of pleasures, four of pains, four of -emotions, four of desires, and the intermixture of each of -these with every other gives rise to innumerable variety. -Plato himself does not even attempt an exhaustive treatment - - -What is significant for our purposes is the treatment of - - - -memory and perception. We saw in the Sophist and the -Statesman that certain images could be false while others -could be true. In the realm of feeling, the feelings -attendant upon true or false images will be correspondingly true or false. Thus Plato develops the significant -ethical dictum that pleasures (or pains or emotions) -though felt, may be false. We meet again the artist in the -soul (imagination) which sometimes correctly and sometimes -incorrectly inscribes the memory-images of past, present, -and future experiences (39 a). Thus, the question of images, -irrevocably linked to the tenses of imagination, is, in - - -the Philebus, introduced into the discussion of pleasure, - - -pain, and emotion. Again, since the number of combinations -of pleasures, whether unlimited, or limited or mixed or -causative, is innumerable, the multiplication of this -innumerable number by the three tenses adds an exponential -4nnumerability. Had he wanted, Plato could have trebled -and then quadrupled the exponent by the introduction of -the intermediary tenses of becoming, and then quintupled -the whole by using the middle voice of his native grammar. -However, he assures us that he has not forgotten his own -former dialogues, when he says "...for any class to be -alone and in perfect solitude is not good nor altogether -possible" (63 b). - -The end of the dialogue, interpreted in the light -of the gradual growth of Plato's thought through the late - - -tee - - - -group, is striking, for it asserts unequivocally that . -neither mind and wisdom nor pleasure and pain are simply -superior to one another: there must be mixture. Formerly, -mind and knowledge of the forms would have been indubitably -best; now, mixture is necessary. However, this is not to -be interpreted as a simple linear progression, because, as -we shall see in the Timaeus, what is necessary and what is -good are not due to comparable causes and are not therefore -subject to the same criterion for choosing which is better. -It may well be that what is better is unfortunately not -what is necessary. - - -Summary -There are unmistakable hints in the Philebus that - - -the dialogue which succeeds it will take up certain strands -of Pythagorean logic and develop them further, as for exe -ample the whole question of the manner in which the cause -of mixture accomplishes its business, or, as another -example, the application of the method of division to the -universe, which was only briefly and partially done in this -dialogue. - -This much, however is certain. 'he Philebus begins -with the extension of the method of division to the realm -of pleasure and knowledge of pleasure. The purist position -that either pleasure or mind must be affirmed as the best -is abandoned as "childish" and as an "old argument," which, - - -it is agreed, no longer captures philosophic interest. - - - - -'The isolated eternality of the forms, modified by the -Sophist and the Statesman, is further modified by the -assertion that pleasures or any Form or class cannot be -both good and alone. | - -Lastly, the familiar doctrine of the aviary of images -4s maintained, and developed insofar as it is now employed -to explain the basis of false pleasures, feelings, and -emotions. A beginning is made into the physiology of -reminiscence and an intimate connection is drawn between -such a physiology and the first outlines of a concrete -cosmology. For this intimate connection and a fuller -description of the relations between a psychogeny and a -cosmogeny, we must look to the Timaeus. - - -Summary of the Chapter -Tracing the hypothesized modification and development - - -of the tripartite theme of eternity-image-time through -the Republic, Parmenides, Theatetus, Sophist, Statesman, - - -and Philebus, it emerges that Plato's treatment of these -topics is not a simple linear progression. I think I have -shown that these themes are, in fact, treated together -wherever discussion of any one of them is broached, and -that to speak of one involves the need to speak of. the -others. - -From the eternal realm of the Forms and the shadow-~ -like copies of them in the Republic's cave, we saw the -initial doctrine of the Forms of the middle dialogues - - - -subjected to the criticism of the Parmenides. There we are | -told that the naive view of the Forms as separated from -what appears to us leads to logically untenable positions, -from a series of unreal instants to hypostasizing none -existence. A hint of the doctrine of notetime emerges. 'the - - -Theatetus informs us that we must examine the reality of - - -moving images, as if the results of perception were flying -birds in an aviary-like memory. the Sophist examines note -being and concludes with the extraordinary assertion that -notebeing in some way is, so that the artificial separation -of the world into what is either eternal or temporal, -agreed to be inadequate in the Parmenides, is now shown, -not only to be inadequate, but to be impossible. Things - -are not isolated absolutes sharing in isolated absolute -Forms, for images have their own sort of reality. The - - -Statesman acknowledges that this reality of images must be - - -generalized beyond a psychological doctrine, and implies -that there might well be cosmic images, which are better -and more intelligible than the myths and fables of the -historical story-tellers. The Philebus shows that there -are far-reaching ethical implications of this doctrine, -and especially, leads to a discussion of the cause (s) -of mixed classes and mixed realities. - -In short, from an initial position which asserted -the realm of Forms to be eternally separated from the - - -world of moving images, Plato comes to assert that moving - - - -images have a reality which is in no way to be despised or | -neglected in favor of a naively-viewed eternity. The world -of time and the moving images in it cannot be intelligently -separated from the eternal. - -This is not to say that the eternal and the temporal -are the same world, or that a simple blending or a denial -of existence to one or the other is Plato's conclusion. On -the contrary, only by the careful dialectical investigation -of the differences between eternity and time can their -relations be spelled out with any philosophical accuracy. - -However, it remains to spell out this relationship -of Forms, images, and times. To qualify as a genuine -evolution, such a treatment will have to synthesize all -that has gone before, in a way which will not excise any -real progress made before it. This means that there will -have to be a discussion of the psychology of knowledge as -well as a cosmology of being, and that these two preponderant interests will have to be united in a way which spells -out their intimate relation. This is exactly what the - - -Timaeus will do. If the Timaeus accomplishes this task, - - -4t follows that the Timaeus should be regarded as a later - - -dialogue and that we should find in it a new synthesis of - - -the doctrines of eternity, image, and time. - - +% ch iii +% ch iv CHAPTER IV THE TIMAEUS |