1 Primary Source 1.3 PLATO, PARMENIDES1 Plato (429–348 B.C.) was an ancient Greek philosopher, mathematician, writer of philosophical dialogues, and student of Socrates (469–399 B.C.). He also founded the Academy in Athens, the first institution of higher learning in the Western world. Along with Socrates and his student, Aristotle, Plato helped to lay the foundations of Western philosophy and science. Plato believed that every class of existing things corresponds to a transcendent and permanently existing idea of that class of things and that each transcendent idea (or form) is more real than the things themselves and indeed makes their existence possible. Thus, the idea of a “man” must have a real, transcendent existence, and each individual human being must correspond to this idea or form. Plato’s theory of forms was perhaps his most notable contribution to philosophy. In the dialogue excerpted below, Plato imagines a conversation between a youthful Socrates and two pre-Socratic philosophers, Zeno (490–430 B.C.) and Parmenides (fl. early 5th century B.C.). The pre-Socratic philosophers, of whose writings only fragments still remain, investigated and theorized about the nature of reality, the complexities of human thought, and the natural world. Zeno was famous for discovering contradictions, absurdities, and paradoxes even in assertions by philosophers. Parmenides believed that everything is interconnected and forms a single unchanging unity. Opposed to his thinking, but not mentioned in the dialogue, was Heraclitus (c. 535–c. 475 B.C.), who claimed that everything constantly changes, such that no one can ever step in the same river twice. In the dialogue, Parmenides offers numerous intellectual challenges to Plato’s theory of the forms. It seems that Plato thereby intended to equip philosophers to defend the theory of forms by foreseeing possible objections to it. For the excerpt online, click here. For the full text, click here. For a freely accessible audio recording, click here. PARMENIDES We went from our home at Clazomenae to Athens, and met Adeimantus2 and Glaucon3 in the Agora. Welcome, said Adeimantue, taking me by the hand; is there anything which we can do for you in Athens? Why, yes, I said, I am come to ask a favor of you. What is that? he said. I want you to tell me the name of your half-brother, which I have forgotten; he was a mere child when I last came hither from Clazomenae, but that was a long time ago: your father’s name, if I remember rightly, is Pyrilampes?4 1 Oliver J. Thatcher, ed., The Library of Original Sources, 10 vols. (Milwaukee, WI: University Research Extension Co., 1907), 2: 239-248. 2 Adeimantus was Plato’s older brother. 3 Glaucon (445–400 B.C.) was an ancient Athenian philosopher and Plato’s older brother. 4 Pyrilampes (480–413 B.C.) was an Athenian philosopher and stepfather of Plato. 2 Yes, he said, and the name of our brother, Antiphon; but why do you ask? Let me introduce some countrymen of mine, I said; they are lovers of philosophy, and have heard that Antiphon was in the habit of meeting Pythodorus, the friend of Zeno, and remembers certain arguments which Socrates and Zeno and Parmenides had together, and which Pythodorus had often repeated to him. That is true. And could we hear them? I asked. Nothing easier, he replied; when he was a youth he made a careful study of the pieces; at present his thoughts run in another direction; like his grandfather, Antiphon, he is devoted to horses. But, if that is what you want, let us go and look for him; he dwells at Melita, which is quite near, and he has only just left us to go home. Accordingly we went to look for him; he was at home, and in the act of giving a bridle to a blacksmith to be fitted. When he had done with the blacksmith, his brothers told him the purpose of our visit; and he saluted me as an acquaintance whom he remembered from my former visit, and we asked him to repeat the dialogue. At first he was not very willing, and complained of the trouble, but at length he consented. He told us that Pythodorous had described to him the appearance of Parmenides and Zeno; they came to Athens, he said, at the great Panathenaea;5 the former was, at the time of his visit, about 65 years old, very white with age, but well favored. Zeno was nearly 40 years of age, of a noble figure and fair aspect; and in the days of his youth he was reported to have been beloved of Parmenides. He said that they lodged with Pythodorous in the Ceramicus, outside the wall, whither Socrates and others came to see them; they wanted to hear some writings of Zeno, which had been brought to Athens by them for the first time. He said that Socrates was then very young, and that Zeno read them to him in the absence of Parmenides, and had nearly finished when Pythodorous entered, and with him Parmenides and Aristoteles6 who was afterwards one of the Thirty;7 there was not much more to hear, and Pythodorus had heard Zeno repeat them before. When the recitation was completed, Socrates requested that the first hypothesis of the first discourse might be read over again, and this having been done, he said: What do you mean, Zeno? Is your argument that the existence of many necessarily involves like and unlike, and that this is impossible, for neither can the like be unlike, nor the unlike like; is that your position? Just that, said Zeno. And if the unlike cannot be like, or the like unlike, then neither can the many exist, for that would involve an impossibility. Is the design of your argument throughout to disprove the existence of the many? and is each of your treatises intended to furnish a separate proof of this, there being as many proofs in all as you have composed arguments, of the non-existence of the many? Is that your meaning, or have I misunderstood you? No, said Zeno; you have quite understood the general drift of the treatise. 5 The most important religious festival in Athens, held every four years in honor of the goddess Athena. 6 This was not the philosopher Aristotle but a statesman. 7 The pro-Spartan puppet leadership of Athens following the Peloponnesian War (431–404 B.C.). 3 I see, Parmenides, said Socrates, that Zeno is your second self in his writings too; he puts what you say in another way, and half deceives us into believing that he is saying what is new. For you, in your compositions, say that the all is one, and of this you adduce excellent proofs; and he, on the other hand, says that the many is naught, and gives many great and convincing evidences of this. To deceive the world, as you have done, by saying the same thing in different ways, one of you affirming and the other denying the many, is a strain of art beyond the reach of most of us. Yes, Socrates, said Zeno. But although you are as keen as a Spartan hound in pursuing the track, you do not quite apprehend the true motive of the performance, which is not really such an artificial piece of work as you imagine; there was no intention of concealment effecting any grand result—that was a mere accident. For the truth is, that these writings of mine were meant to protect the arguments of Parmenides against those who ridicule him, and urge the many ridiculous and contradictory results which were supposed to follow from the assertion of the one. My answer is addressed to the partisans of the many, and intended to show that greater or more ridiculous consequences follow from their hypothesis of the existence of the many if carried out, than from the hypothesis of the existence of the one. A love of controversy led me to write the book in the days of my youth, and someone stole the writings, and I had therefore no choice about the publication of them; the motive, however, of writing, was not the ambition of an old man, but the pugnacity of a young one. This you do not seem to see, Socrates; though in other respects, as I was saying, your notion is a very just one. That I understand, said Socrates, and quite accept your account. But tell me, Zeno, do you not further think that there is an idea of likeness in the abstract, and another idea of unlikeness, which is the opposite of likeness, and that in these two, you and I and all other things to which we apply the term many, participate; and that the things which participate in likeness are in that degree and manner like; and that those which participate in unlikeness are in that degree unlike, or both like and unlike in the degree in which they participate in both? And all things may partake of both opposites, and be like and unlike to themselves, by reason of this participation. Even in that there is nothing wonderful. But if a person could prove the absolute like to become unlike, or the absolute unlike to become like, that, in my opinion, would be a real wonder; not, however, if the things which partake of the ideas experience likeness and unlikeness—there is nothing extraordinary in this. Nor, again, if a person were to show that all is one by partaking of one, and that the same is many by partaking of many, would that be very wonderful? But if he were to show me that the absolute many was one, or the absolute one many, I should be truly amazed.