Monday, September 28, 2015

3b Arguments against the Forms in Plato’s Parmenides – Forms as thoughts

I ended my previous post with the words: ‘As it appears, Cornford’s and Allen’s ‘two possibilities’ interpretation [of Plato’s Parmenides 132c9-11] goes back to Jowett.’ But I could not stop thinking about it, and the more I thought about it, the less likely it appeared to me that the mistranslation of that passage could have originated with Jowett. That famous Master of Balliol College must have known German – when Kathy Wilkes came to Prague in 1979 to give her first lecture in my seminar, she talked enthusiastically about the role Balliol played in Oxford’s decision to accept my invitation, and about Jowett, the famous translator of Plato: ‘There is a Limerick about him “My name is Benjamin Jowett, and if there is anything worth knowing, I know it.”’ – and must have checked his translation of that passage with Schleiermacher. And so I found Schleiermacher’s translation on Google:

Parmenides: ‘Und dies als Eins bemerkte soll nicht ein Begriff sein, da es immer dasselbe ist in jenen Allen?’ – Socrates: ‘Das scheint wieder nothwendig.’ – Parmenides: ‘Wie aber weiter, habe Parmenides gesagt, wenn du behauptest, dass die übrigen Dinge die Begriffe aufnehmen, musst du nicht entweder glauben, dass jedes aus Gedanken bestehe, und dass sie alle denken, oder dass sie zwar Gedanken sind aber undenkende? – Socrates: Allein auch das, habe Sokrates gesagt, hat ja keinen Sinn.’

As can be seen, the mistranslation does go back to Schleiermacher.

How did it happen that Schleiermacher misinterpreted Plato’s argument? Let me restate the argument:

In the brief exchange at 132b7-c2 Parmenides compels Socrates to admit that every single thought (e4n e3kaston tw~n nohma/twn) is a thought of something (tinoj), of something that is (o!ntoj). Then he asks whether it is not a thought of something that is one, which that thought thinks as being on all those things, a single character: Ou0x e9no/j tinoj, o4 e0pi\ pa=sin e0kei=no to\ no/hma e0po\n noei=, mi/an tina\ ou]san i0de/an; When Socrates agrees (Nai/), Parmenides presses the point, asking whether this single character (mi/a tij i0de/a) won’t be a Form, always one and the same on all: Ei]ta ou0k ei]doj e1stai tou=to to\ noou/menon e4n ei]nai, a0ei\ o2n to\ au0to\ e0pi\ pa=sin; When Socrates answers that it must necessarily be so ( 0Ana/gkh au] fai/netai), Parmenides asks him whether it is not the same necessity that made him say that things that bear the same character participate in the Forms (if so, the infinite regress obviously applies) ou0k a0na/gkh| h|{ ta}lla fh\|j tw~n ei0dw~n mete/xein, and then, without waiting for Socrates’ answer, he suggest the other two possibilities: ‘or does it seem to you that each thing is composed of thoughts’ h2 dokei= soi e0k nohma/twn e3kaston ei]nai kai\ pa/nta noei=n, or being thoughts, they are unthinking h2 noh/mata o1nta a0no/hta ei]nai; Socrates admits that none of this makes any sense:  0All ou0de\ tou=to e1xei lo/gon.

Schleiermacher translates ou0k a0na/gkh| h|{ ta}lla fh\|j tw~n ei0dw~n mete/xein h2 dokei= soi (Parm. 132c9-1) ‘wenn du behauptest, dass die übrigen Dinge die Begriffe  aufnehmen, musst du nicht entweder glauben, dass …’ ‘when you maintain, that the other things take up the concepts [participate in Forms - tw~n ei0dw~n mete/xein], must you not believe either that …’. He translates as if Parmenides had said ou0k a0na/gkh|, h|{ ta}lla fh\|j tw~n ei0dw~n mete/xein, dokei= soi h2 e0k nohma/twn e3kaston ei]nai kai\ pa/nta noei=n, h2 noh/mata o1nta a0no/hta ei]nai. He then interprets the opening sentence ou0k a0na/gkh|, h|{ ta}lla fh\|j tw~n ei0dw~n mete/xein in the light of the supposed ‘either – or’ of the two last mentioned possibilities. But there is no ‘either – or’ in Plato’s text. Parmenides’ argument is in the form ‘A or B or C’. So let me retrace the steps by which Parmenides arrives at A.

Parmenides suggested that Socrates posited the Forms because he saw that many things shared one and the same character and thought that they did so by virtue of participating in one Form (132a1-4). Socrates agreed (a5). Parmenides then showed him that on this way of thinking he would have to acknowledge that the Form and all the individual things sharing in it would do so by virtue of jointly sharing in the same character, another Form, and thus ad infinitum: ‘And so you won’t have one of each Form (kai\ ou0ke/ti dh\ e4n e3kaston soi tw~n ei0dw~n e1stai), but their multitude will be infinite (a0lla\ a1peira to\ plh=qoj).’ (132a6-b2)

Socrates ‘replies’ to Parmenides’ argument by fundamentally changing his view of the Forms, albeit only tentatively: ‘But may not each of the Forms ( 0Alla\ mh\ tw~n ei0dw~n e3kaston) be just a thought of these things (h]| tou/twn no/hma), to which it would appertain to be nowhere else (kai\ ou0damou= au0tw~| prosh/kh| e0ggi/gnestai a1lloqi) than in souls (h2 e0n yuxai=j). For in this way each would be one (ou3tw ga\r a2n e3n ge e3kaston ei1h) and would no more suffer (kai\ ou0k a2n e1ti pa/sxoi) what was said just now (a4 nundh\ e0le/geto).’ (132b3-6)

Parmenides responds to Socrates’ suggestion by bringing him elegantly back to his original view of the Forms: ‘What then (Ti/ ou]n)? Is each thought one (e4n e3kasto/n e0sti tw~n nohma/twn), but thought of nothing (no/hma de\ ou0deno/j, ‘but thought of not even one [thing]’)? Socrates: ‘But that’s impossible (  0All a0du/naton).’ Parmenides: ‘But a thought of something (  0Alla\ tino/j)?’ Socrates: ‘Yes (Nai/).’ Parmenides: ‘Of something that is, or of something that is not (  1Ontoj h2 ou0k o1ntoj)? Socrates: ‘Of something that is (  1Ontoj).’ Parmenides: ‘Is it not of something that is one (Ou0x e9no/j tinoj), which that thought thinks to be on all (o4 e0pi\ pa=sin e0kei=no to\ no/hma e0po\n noei=), to wit a Form which is one (mi/an tina\ ou]san i0de/an)?’ Socrates: ‘Yes (Nai/).’ Won’t this then be a Form (Ei]ta ou0k ei]doj e1stai tou=to), to wit this which is thought to be one (to\ noou/menon e4n ei]nai), always being the same on all (a0ei\ o2n to\ au0to\ e0pi\ pa=sin)? Socrates: ‘Necessarily, again, it appears so (  0Ana/gkh au] fai/netai).’

Socrates answers  0Ana/gkh, ‘Necessity’, without being fully aware, what that   0Ana/gkh involves. And so Parmenides toys with Socrates’   0Ana/gkh, ‘Necessity’, asking ou0k a0na/gkh| h|{ ta}lla fh\|j tw~n ei0dw~n mete/xein ‘Is it not by the necessity [instrumental use of a0na/gkh|] by which you say that things participate in the Forms?’

There was no necessity in Socrates’ tentative suggestion that the Forms could be taken as being just thoughts. If there was any ‘necessity’ involved, it was the ‘necessity’ that originally led him to conceive the Forms, the necessity which Parmenides had shown to lead to the infinite regress.

Without waiting for Socrates’ answer to the question concerning the ‘necessity’, Parmenides suggests two possibilities involving Socrates’ tentative suggestion that Forms are just thoughts: ‘or does it seem to you that each thing is composed of thoughts (h2 dokei= soi e0k nohma/twn e3kaston ei]nai) and that all think (kai\ pa/nta noei=n), or being thoughts (h2 noh/mata o1nta) they are unthinking (a0no/hta ei]nai)?’ (132b3-c11)

Since Socrates could not find any answer to the ‘infinite regress’ argument when Parmenides proposed it, he can’t find any answer to the question concerning the ‘necessity’ that led him to the Forms, and he finds the two alternatives concerning Forms as thoughts unacceptable. And so he answers to all three possibilities suggested by Parmenides ‘But this does not make sense either (  0All ou0de\ tou=to e1xei lo/gon, 132c12),’ and then he comes up with another tentative suggestion – that the Forms are paradigms – which Parmenides will again find liable to the infinite regress.

Saturday, September 26, 2015

3a Arguments against the Forms in Plato’s Parmenides – Forms as thoughts

As I was lying in bed after my supper – which I always do, if I can – it occurred to me to look at Jowett’s translation of Parmenides 132c9-11; and so I did, when I got up:

‘Then, said Parmenides, if you say that everything else participates in the ideas, must you not say either that everything is made up of thoughts, and that all things think; or that they are thoughts but have no thought?’

As it appears, Cornford’s and Allen’s ‘two possibilities’ interpretation goes back to Jowett.

3 Arguments against the Forms in Plato’s Parmenides and Aristotle’s critical remarks on the Forms

Forms as thoughts

In Parm. 132a1-5 Socrates agreed that because he saw that many things shared one and the same character, he thought they did so by virtue of participating in one Form. Parmenides then showed him that on this way of thinking he would have to acknowledge that the Form and all the individual things sharing in it would do so by virtue of jointly sharing in the same character, which would necessitate postulating another Form, and thus ad infinitum 132a5-b2. (See my previous post)

Next, Socrates attempted to parry Parmenides’ argument by thinking the Forms to be nothing but thoughts. Socrates: ‘But may not each of the Forms (Alla mê tȏn eidȏn hekaston) be just a thought of these things (êi toutȏn noêma), to which it would appertain to be nowhere else (kai oudamou autȏi prosêkêi engignestai allothi) than in souls (ê en psuchais). For in this way each would be one (houtȏ gar an hen hekaston eiê) and would no more suffer (kai ouk an eti paschoi) what was said just now (ha nundê elegeto).’ Parmenides: ‘What then (Ti oun)? Is each thought one (hen hekaston esti tȏn noêmatȏn), but thought of nothing (noêma de oudenos, ‘but thought of not even one [thing]’)? Socrates: ‘But that’s impossible (All adunaton).’ Parmenides: ‘But a thought of something (Alla tinos)?’ Socrates: ‘Yes (Nai).’ Parmenides: ‘Of something that is, or of something that is not (Ontos ê ouk ontos)? Socrates: ‘Of something that is (Ontos).’ Parmenides: ‘Is it not of something that is one (Ouch henos tinos), which that thought thinks to be on all (ho epi pasin ekeino to noêma epon noei), to wit a Form which is one (mian tina ousan idean)?’ Socrates: ‘Yes (Nai).’ Won’t this then be a Form (Eita ouk eidos estai touto), to wit this which is thought to be one (to nooumenon hen einai), always being the same on all (aei on to auto epi pasin)? Socrates: ‘Necessarily, again, it appears so (Anankê au phainetai).’ Parmenides: ‘What then (Ti de dê)? Is it not so by the necessity that compelled you to say that things participate in the Forms (ouk anangkêi hêi t’alla phêis tȏn eidȏn metechein), or does it seem to you that each thing is composed of thoughts (ê dokei soi ek noêmatȏn hekaston einai) and that all think (kai panta noein), or being thoughts (ê noêmata onta) they are unthinking (anoêta einai)?’ Socrates: ‘But this does not make sense either (All’ oude touto echei logon).’ (132b3-c11)

On my translation Parmenides suggests three possibilities of taking Socrates’ suggestion that the Forms are just thoughts: 1) Socrates’ suggestion that the Forms are nothing but thoughts leads to his original conception of Forms ­– ‘Is it not so by the necessity that compelled you to say that things participate in the Forms?’ (132c9-10) ­– which implies the infinite regress (dubbed by Aristotle as ‘the third man argument), as shown at 132a1-b2; 2) ‘or each thing is composed of thoughts and all things think’, 3) ‘or being thoughts, things are unthinking’.

On Cornford’s and Allen’s translations Parmenides offers only two possibilities of how to take Socrates’ suggestion, that is the last two in my translation, and even more seriously, their translation suggests that Socrates’ original conception of the Forms led to one of those two possibilities. On the margin of my copy of the Parmenides I noted Cornford’s translation of 132c9-11: ‘And besides, said Parmenides, according to the way in which you assert that the other things have a share in the Forms, must you not hold either that each of those things consists of thoughts so that all things think, or else that they are thoughts which nevertheless do not think?’

Allen translates: ‘Really? Then what about this, said Parmenides: in virtue of the necessity by which you say that the others have a share of characters, doesn’t it seem to you that either each is composed of thoughts and all think, or that being thoughts they are un-thought?’

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Cornford and Allen in their translations misrepresent this argument. To make this clear, I must take recourse to the un-transcribed original. In the brief exchange at 132b7-c2 Parmenides compels Socrates to admit that every single thought (e4n e3kaston tw~n nohma/twn) is a thought of something (tinoj), of something that is (o!ntoj). Then he asks whether it is not a thought of something that is one, which that thought thinks as being on all those things, a single character: Ou0x e9no/j tinoj, o4 e0pi\ pa=sin e0kei=no to\ no/hma e0po\n noei=, mi/an tina\ ou]san i0de/an; When Socrates agrees (Nai/), Parmenides presses the point, asking whether this single character (mi/a tij i0de/a) won’t be a Form, always one and the same on all: Ei]ta ou0k ei]doj e1stai tou=to to\ noou/menon e4n ei]nai, a0ei\ o2n to\ au0to\ e0pi\ pa=sin; When Socrates answers that it must necessarily be so ( 0Ana/gkh au] fai/netai), Parmenides asks him whether it is not the same necessity that made him say that things that bear the same character participate in the Forms (if so, the infinite regress obviously applies), and then he puts in the other two possibilities: Ti/ de\ dh/; ei0pei=n to\n Parmeni/dhn, ou0k a0na/gkh| h|{ ta}lla fh\|j tw~n ei0dw~n mete/xein h2 dokei= soi e0k nohma/twn e3kaston ei]nai kai\ pa/nta noei=n, h2 noh/mata o1nta a0no/hta e]nai; Socrates admits that none of this makes any sense:  0All ou0de\ tou=to e1xei lo/gon.


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It appears that Aristotle had the Parmenides in front of his eyes when he wrote in the 1st book of Metaphysics: ‘According to the assumption on which our belief in the Ideas rests (kata men tên hupolêpsin kath’ hên einai phamen tas ideas), there will be Forms not only of substances (ou monon tȏn ousiȏn estai eidê) but also of many other things (alla pollȏn kai heterȏn) for the thought is one (kai gar to noêma hen) not only in the case of substances (ou monon peri tas ousias) but also in the other cases (alla kai kata tȏn allȏn esti).’ (990b22-27, tr. W. D. Ross, with one exception; Ross translates Aristotle‘s to noêma hen ‘the concept is single’, which obscures the relation between Aristotle’s passage and Plato’s argument in the Parmenides).

In connection with Parmenides 132b3-c11, R. E.  Allen in his ‘Comment’ refers to Aristotle’s De anima III 429a21-31 (R. E. Allen, Plato’s Parmenides, Yale University Press, 1997, p. 176). The following passage in Aristotle’s De anima is relevant: ‘And those spoke well who said that the soul is the place of Forms (kai eu dê hoi legontes psuchên einai topon eidȏn), except, neither the whole soul (plên hoti oute holê), only the intellective soul (all hê noêtikê), nor of the Forms in actuality, only in potentiality (oute entelecheiai alla dunamei ta eidê).’ (429a27-29)

Thursday, September 24, 2015

2 Arguments against the Forms in Plato’s Parmenides and Aristotle’s critical remarks on the Forms

Concerning the infinite multitude of Forms

Parmenides says to Socrates: ‘I think that the reason why you think that each Form is one is like this (Oimai se ek tou toioude hen hekaston eidos oiesthai einai): When many things appear to you to be large (hotan poll’ atta megala soi doxêi einai), there perhaps seems to be some Form, which is one and the same (mia tis isȏs dokei idea hê autê einai), as you look on them all (epi panta idonti); whence (hothen) you believe the large is one (hen to mega hêgêi einai)’. Socrates: ‘True (Alêthê legeis)’. Parmenides: ‘And what about the large itself (Ti d’ auto to mega) and all the other large things (kai t’alla ta megala), if in the same way (ean hȏsautȏs) you look in your mind at all of them (têi psuchêi epi panta idêis), will not again some large appear (ouchi hen ti au mega phaneitai) by which they all appear large (hȏi tauta panta megala phainesthai)?’ Socrates: ‘It seems so (Eoike)’. Parmenides: ‘So another Form of largeness (Allo ara eidos megethous) will come to view (anaphanêsetai), produced alongside the largeness itself (par’ auto te to megethos gegonos) and the things participating in it (kai ta metechonta autou); and over and above all these (kai epi toutois pasin), again (au), a different one (heteron), by which they all will be large (hȏi tauta panta megala estai). And so you won’t have one of each Form (kai ouketi dê hen hekaston soi tȏn eidȏn estai), but their multitude will be infinite (alla apeira to plêthos).’ (132a1-b2)

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Aristotle says in Metaphysics A: ‘But as for those who posit the Ideas (hoi de tas ideas tithemenoi), firstly, in seeking to grasp the causes of the things around us (prȏton men zêtountes tȏnde tȏn ontȏn labein tas aitias), they introduced others equal in number to these (hetera toutois isa ton artithmon ekomisan), as if a man who wanted to count things (hȏsper ei tis arithmein boulomenos) thought he would not be able to do it while they were few (elattonȏn men ontȏn oioito mê dunêsesthai), but tried to count them when he had added to their number (pleiȏ de poiêsas arithmoiê) (990a34-b4) … of the more accurate arguments (hoi de akribesteroi tȏn logȏn), some lead to Ideas of relations (hoi men tȏn pros ti poiousi ideas), of which we say there is no independent class (hȏn ou phamen einai kath’ hauto genos), and others introduce the ‘third man’ (hoi de ton triton anthrȏpon legousi) (b15-17) … and if the Ideas and the particulars that share in them have the same form  (kai ei men t’auto eidos tȏn ideȏn kai tȏn metechontȏn), there will be something common to these (estai ti koinon) … But if they have not the same form (ei de mê to auto eidos), they must have only the name in common (homȏnuma an eiê), and it is as if one were to call both Callias and a wooden image a ‘man’ (kai homoion hȏsper an ei tis kaloi anthrȏpon ton te Kallian kai to xulon), without observing any community between them (mêdemian koinȏnian epiblepsas autȏn)’ (991a2-8, tr. W. D. Ross).

A fragment from Aristotle’s De Ideis elucidates the ‘third man argument’: ‘There will be a third man (tritos anthrȏpos estai) both apart from each individual man (para te ton kath’ hekasta), such as Socrates and Plato (hoion Sȏkratê kai Platȏna), and apart from the Form (kai para tên idean), which is itself one in number (hêtis kai autê mia kat’ arithmon esti).’ (Alexander of Aphrodisias, in Metaph. 83, W. D. Ross, Aristotelis fragmenta selecta, Oxford University Press 1955 (1970), p. 125.)

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

1 Arguments against the Forms in Plato’s Parmenides and Aristotle’s critical remarks on the Forms

Problems concerning participation

Parmenides asks Socrates: ‘Do you think (dokei soi), as you say (hȏs phêis), that there are certain Forms (einai eidê atta) by partaking of which these other things have got their names (hȏn tade ta alla metalambanonta tas epȏnumias autȏn ischein)? As for example (hoion) having partaken of similarity (homiotêtos men metalabonta) they become (gignesthai) similar (homoia), and of largeness (megethous de) large (megala), and of beauty and justice (kallous de kai dikaiosunês) just and beautiful (dikaia te kai kala)?’ Socrates answers: ‘Yes, certainly (Panu ge)’. Parmenides asks: ‘Then (Oukoun) each participating thing (hekaston to metalambanon) partakes (metalambanei) either of the whole of the Form (êtoi holou tou eidous) or of a part of it (ê merous). Or could there be any other participation apart from these (ê allê tis an metalêpsis chȏris toutȏn genoito)?’ Socrates: ‘How could there be (Kai pȏs an)?’ Parmenides: ‘Does it seem to you, then (Poteron oun dokei soi), that in each of the many is the whole Form (holon to eidos en hekastȏi einai tȏn pollȏn), being one (hen on), or how (ê pȏs)?’ Socrates: ‘For what prevents it (Ti gar kȏluei) to be one (hen einai)?’ Parmenides: ‘So being one and the same (Hen ara on kai tauton), it will be as a whole at the same time in many things (holon hama enestai en pollois) that are separate (chȏris ousin), and thus (kai houtȏs) it would be separate from itself (auto hautou chȏris an eiê).’ (130e5 – 131b2)

Socrates reposts: ‘No, it would not (Ouk an), if like the day being one and the same (hoion hêmera mia kai hê autê ousa) is in many places simultaneously (pollachou hama esti), and yet is not separate from itself in any way (kai ouden ti mallon autê hautês chȏris estin), if so (ei houtȏ) each of the Forms as well (kai hekaston tȏn eidȏn) would be (eiê) in all things (en pasin) simultaneously (hama) one and the same (hen t’auton).’ Parmenides: ‘Very pleasantly, I’m sure (Hêdeȏs ge), you make (poieis) one and the same (hen t’auton) in many different places (pollachou) simultaneously (hama), as if spreading out a sail over a number of men (hoion ei histiȏi katapetasas pollous anthrȏpous) you would claim (phaiês) that a whole one was over many (hen epi pollois einai holon). Or don’t you think (ê ou hêgêi) that you are saying something like this (to toiouton legein)?’ Socrates: ‘Perhaps (Isȏs)’. Parmenides: ‘Would the whole sail be over each man (Ȇ oun holon eph’ hekastȏi to histion eiê an), or a part of it (ê meros autou), a different part in each (allo ep allȏi)?’ Socrates: ‘A part (Meros)’. Parmenides: ‘So the Forms themselves are divisible (Merista ara estin auta ta eidê), and the things which participate in them (kai ta metechonta autȏn) would participate only in a part of them (merous an metechoi), and in each thing would not be a whole Form any more (kai ouketi en hekastȏi holon an eiê), but a part of each (alla meros hekastou).’ (131b3 – 131c7) Socrates: ‘It appears so (Phainetai)’. Parmenides: ‘Will you then want to say (Ȇ oun ethelêseis phanai) that the one Form is in truth divided into parts (to hen eidos hêmin têi alêtheiai merizesthai), and will still be one (kai eti hen einai)?’ Socrates: ‘No way (Oudamȏs)’ (131b3-c11)

Parmenides: ‘For look (Hora gar), if you divide the largeness itself into parts (ei auto to megethos merieis) and each of the many large things (kai hekaston tȏn pollȏn megalȏn) will be large by virtue of a part of largeness smaller than the largeness itself (megethous merei smikroterȏi autou tou megethous mega estai), will it not appear absurd (ara ouk alogon phaneitai)?’ Socrates: ‘Of course (Panu ge)’. Parmenides: ‘And what about this (Ti de)? Each thing having received a small part of the equal (tou isou meros hekaston apolabon ti), can it be equal to anything by virtue of a smaller part of the equal itself (hexei hȏi elattoni onti autou tou isou to echon ison tȏi estai)? Socrates: ‘Impossible (Adunaton)’. Parmenides: ‘But one of us will have a part of the small (Alla tou smikroterou meros tis hêmȏn hexei); the small itself will be bigger than this part (toutou de autou to smikron meizon estai), for it is part of itself (hate merous heautou ontos), and thus (kai houtȏ dê) the small itself will be bigger (auto to smikron meizon estai). But that to which the part taken away is added (hȏi d’ an prostethêi to aphairethen) will be smaller and not bigger than before (touto smikroteron estai all ou meizon ê prin).’ Socrates: ‘That could not happen (Ouk an genoito)’. Parmenides: ‘In what way then (Tina oun tropon) will the other things partake of the Forms (tȏn eidȏn soi ta alla metalêpsetai), when they cannot partake either of parts of them or of the whole of each (mête kata merê mête kata hola metalambanein dunamena)? Socrates: ‘No by Zeus (Ou ma ton Dia), it does not seem to me easy (ou moi dokei eukolon einai) to determine (diorisasthai) in any way (oudamȏs) such a problem (to toiouton).’ (131c12-e7)

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Aristotle writes in Metaphysics A: ‘The Pythagoreans (Hoi Puthagoreioi) say (phasin) that things exist by “imitation” of numbers (mimêsei ta onta einai tȏn arithmȏn), and Plato says they exist by participation (Platȏn de methexei), changing the name (t’ounoma metabalȏn). But what the participation or the imitation of the Forms could be (tên mentoi ge methexin ê tên mimêsin hêtis an eiê tȏn eidȏn) they left an open question (apheisan en koinȏi zêtein).’ (987b11-14, tr. W. D. Ross)

Aristotle’s remark that the Pythagoreans and Plato left open the question of ‘what the participation or the imitation of the Forms could be’ has a direct bearing on our understanding of the Parmenides. Let me refer to the relevant passages from my last post, from which I quote:

Socrates did not find it surprising that things apprehended by our senses are affected by many contradictions, but said he would be surprized, if Zeno distinguished and set apart the Forms of things alone by themselves and show that these in themselves can both mix together and separate one from another, getting entangled in exactly the same perplexity as the things which we can see and of which Zeno was speaking’. Pythodorus and the other members in the audience thought that Parmenides and Zeno would be annoyed at every word of Socrates; Socrates’ suggestion that there is a plurality of things free of contradictions threatened Parmenides’ ‘All is one’ thesis. To their surprise, the two listened to Socrates with admiration. Parmenides asked Socrates: ‘Did you yourself thus distinguish, as you say, some ideas apart in themselves, and apart the things that partake in them?

When Plato makes the point that Parmenides and Zeno listened to Socrates’ proposal of Forms as something well known to both of them, he is telling us something important. In the light of Aristotle’s remark that the Pythagoreans and Plato left open the question of ‘what the participation or the imitation of the Forms could be’ we can infer that Parmenides was acquainted with the Pythagorean theory. In his Poem, on his way to the Goddess that is to reveal to him that ‘All is one’, Parmenides is driven on the road (es hodon) that is much spoken of (poluphêmon), that carries a man who knows through all towns (hê kata pant’ astê pherei eidota phȏta, lines 3-4). On that road he undoubtedly encountered the Pythagoreans. And then the Goddess herself insisted that he must learn everything (chreȏ de se panta puthesthai), both the well-rounded unshakable heart of truth (êmen alêtheiês eukukleos atremes êtor), and human opinions (êde brotȏn doxas), which don’t have true certainty (tais ouk eni pistis alêthês, lines 28-30).

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Aristotle reflects on the Forms in Ch. 14 of Metaphysics Z as follows: ‘If the Forms exist (ei gar esti ta eidê) and “animal” (kai to zȏion) is present in “man” and “horse (en tȏi anthrȏpȏi kai hippȏi) …  If then there is a “man-in-himself” (ei oun esti tis anthrȏps autos kath’ hauton) who is “this” and exists apart (tode ti kai kechȏrismenon), the parts also of which he consists (anankê kai ex hȏn), e. g. “animal” and “two-footed” (hoion to zȏion kai to dipoun), must indicate “thises” (tode ti sêmainein), and be capable of separate existence (kai einai chȏrista), and substances (kai ousias); therefore “animal”, as well as “man”, must be of this sort (hȏste kai to zȏion). Now if the “animal” in the “horse” and in “man” is one and the same (ei men oun to auto kai hen to en tȏi hippȏi kai tȏi anthrȏpȏi), as you are with yourself (hȏsper su sautȏi), how will the one in things that exist apart be one (pȏs to on en tois ousi chȏris hen estai), and how will this “animal” escape being divided even from itself (kai dia ti ou kai chȏris hautou estai to zȏion touto, b1)? … In the case of sensible things (eti d’ epi tȏn aisthêtȏn) both these consequences and others still more absurd follow (tauta te sumbainei kai toutȏn atopȏtera). If, then, these consequences are impossible (ei dê adunaton houtȏs echein), clearly there are not Forms of sensible things (dêlon hoti ouk estin eidê autȏn) in the sense some maintain their existence (hȏs tines phasin).’ (1039a26-b19, tr. W. D. Ross.)

Ross says in his ‘Commentary’: ‘1039a26-b19 is very similar to Pl. Parm. 131A-E, and in particular the language in b1 recalls that in 131 B hen ara on kai t’auton en pollois kai chȏris ousin holon hama enestai, kai houtȏs auto hautou chȏris an eiê (So being one and the same, it will be as a whole at the same time in many things that are separate, and thus it would be separate from itself) … Aristotle is pressing the difficulties raised by Parmenides in the dialogue (my emphasis, J. T.).’

Sunday, September 20, 2015

Plato’s Parmenides points back to the Republic

In the introduction to the Parmenides Cephalus tells us that he came to Athens (from Clazomenae in Asia Minor) with his friends ‘much interested in philosophy’ (mala philosophoi, 126b8), for they learnt that Antiphon (Plato’s half-brother) often heard (pollakis akousas) from Zeno’s friend Pythodorus the arguments (tous logous) that Socrates, Zeno, and Parmenides once exchanged, so that he remembers them. Adeimantus (Plato’s brother) confirms it as true (alêthê), ‘for he rehearsed the arguments diligently when he was a youngster' (meirakion gar ȏn autous eu mala diemeletêsen, 126b8-c7). This indicates the historicity of that ancient discussion. Socrates was nineteen, Parmenides about 65, and Zeno about 40 when the discussion took place (see R. E. Allen, Plato’s Parmenides, Yale University Press 1997, p. 72).

We are nevertheless not to expect that the discussion is going to be as Antiphon remembered it; he himself ‘was at first reluctant’ (to men prȏton ȏknei) to recall the arguments, ‘for he said it was an arduous task’ (polu gar ephê ergon einai, 127a6), and yet the discussion is narrated by Cephalus who heard Antiphon’s recollections only once. If we pay attention to the way in which the discussion is structured and how Antiphon himself is characterized, we may get an idea of what we are to see as historical in Cephalos’ narrative.

In the opening part of the dialogue we learn that Zeno, a disciple of Parmenides, was reading his treatise to an interested audience. Socrates opened the discussion by conjecturing that Zeno wrote the piece to defend Parmenides’ thesis that ‘All is one’ (hen einai to pan, 128a8-b1), and that he did so by pointing to absurd contradictions in which things would be involved, if they were many. Socrates did not find it surprising that things apprehended by our senses are affected by many contradictions, but said he would be surprized, if Zeno distinguished and set apart the Forms of things alone by themselves (diairêtai chȏris auta kath’ hauta ta eidê, 129d7-8), such as similarity and dissimilarity (hoion homoiotêta kai anomiotêta), many and the one (plêthos kai to hen), rest and motion (stasin kai kinêsin), and show (apophainêi) that these in themselves (en heautois tauta) can both mix together and separate one from another (dunamena sunkerannusthai kai diakrinesthai), getting entangled in exactly the same perplexity (tên autên tautên aporian, 129e6) ‘as the things which we can see and of which you were speaking’ (hȏsper en tois horȏmenois diêlthete – Zeno in his treatise, Parmenides in his poem). (129d6-130a2)

Pythodorus and the other members in the audience thought that Parmenides and Zeno would be annoyed at every word of Socrates (oiesthai eph’ hekastou achthesthai ton te Parmenidên kai Zênȏna, 130a2-5); Socrates’ suggestion that there is a plurality of things free of contradictions threatened Parmenides’ ‘All is one’ thesis. To their surprise, the two listened to Socrates with admiration. Parmenides told him: ‘I admire your eagerness to get engaged in argument (hȏs axios ei agasthai tês hormês tês epi tous logous). And tell me, did you yourself thus distinguish (autos su houtô diêresai), as you say (hôs legeis), apart some ideas in themselves (chôris men eidê atta), and apart the things that partake in them (chôris de ta toutôn au metechonta)? And do you think that likeness itself is something (kai ti soi dokei einai autê homoiotês) apart from the likeness which we have (chȏris hês hêmeis homiotêtos echomen), and one and many (kai hen dê kai polla), and all those things you just heard Zeno mention (kai panta hosa nun Zênȏnos êkoues)?’ Socrates replied: ‘I do think so (Emoige).’ (130a8-b6)

Without pressing the question whether Socrates himself distinguished the Forms as separate from things participating in them Parmenides subjected the theory of Forms to questioning, refuting both the arguments on the basis of which Socrates conceived the Forms and the arguments he invented in the course of the discussion. But then they arrived at a turning point. Parmenides told Socrates: ‘Rest assured that you’ve hardly yet even begun to grasp how great are the difficulties (hosê estin hê aporia) if you always posit one Form by demarcating each class of things (ei hen eidos hekaston tȏn ontȏn aei ti aphorizomenos thêseis) … If someone argued that the Forms (ta eidê) cannot even be known (mêde prosêkei auta gignȏskesthai), if they are as we say they ought to be, no one could show (ouk an echoi tis endeixasthai) to the disputant (tȏi tauta legonti) that he was wrong (hoti pseudetai) unless he happened to be a man of wide experience (ei mê pollȏn men tuchoi empeiros ȏn) and natural ability (kai mê aphuês), willing to follow a man who would show him the Forms in the course of a long preoccupation, beginning from a far (etheloi de panu polla kai porrȏthen pragmateuomenou tou endeiknumenou hepesthai); otherwise there would be no way of convincing a man who would be forcing the Forms to be unknowable.’ (133a11-c1)

Who is supposed to be ‘the man who would show the disputant the Forms in the course of a long preoccupation, beginning from a far’, and what is that preoccupation supposed to be? Plato’s brothers Adeimantus and Glaucon point us in the right direction, for they play an important role in Plato’s Republic. It is at their insistence that Socrates was compelled to transcend his philosophic ignorance in the Republic (357a-368c) by focussing on the embodiment of the Form of Justice, the ideal state. In the Republic Plato describes the road to the Forms in detail, comprehensively and powerfully.

When we realize that Plato dramatically staged the Parmenides so as to direct the reader’s mind towards the Republic, we can properly appreciate the significance of the brief characterization of Antiphon: ‘when Antiphon was young, he diligently and thoroughly rehearsed the arguments, though now, like his grandfather of the same name, he spends most of his time on horses’. As a youngster, Antiphon delighted in arguments against the Forms: ‘Youngsters, when they first get the taste for arguments (hotan to prȏton logȏn geuȏntai), they misuse them for play (hȏs paidiai autois katachrȏntai), always employing them to effect contradiction (aei eis antilogian chrȏmenoi)’, Socrates tells Glaucon in Republic 539b2-5. Arguments against the Forms could not generate in Antiphon a lasting commitment to philosophy, but he must have delighted in diligently rehearsing them and thus annoying Plato, his older half-brother, who by then, in my view, had embraced the Forms. (I’ve argued in The Lost Plato – on my website – that Plato conceived the Forms in his early twenties.) By characterizing Antiphon as he does, Plato indicates that we should view Parmenides’ arguing against the Forms as historical.

Friday, September 18, 2015

Three days in Oxford devoted to philosophy?

In my last post I reflected on the third day of my ‘Three days in Prague devoted to philosophy’, which was devoted to ‘Plato’s Parmenides in the light of Aristotle’s criticism of the theory of Forms’. My views on the Parmenides radically differ from the accepted views, and I would have welcome if the Czech classicists and philosophers had come and defended the accepted academic views. But no one came, although I had invited all of them: it is a strange heritage that the Velvet Philosophers had left behind.

What ‘heritage’, what ‘Velvet Philosophers’? Let me quote from the back cover of Barbara Day’s book: ‘Published to commemorate the tenth anniversary of Czechoslovakia’s liberation from communism in 1989, The Velvet Philosophers tells the remarkable story of the ‘underground university’, through which western academics, artists and intellectuals collaborated with those who sought to keep culture alive in a country where the Communist Party had tried to suppress it. Those who took part in this extraordinary venture include some of the most famous names in contemporary culture: philosophers as diverse as Charles Taylor and Roger Scruton, Jacque Derrida and R. M. Hare; composers of international standing like David Matthews, Michael Berkeley, and Judith Weir; distinguished writers like Tom Stoppard, Carol Rumens and Piers Paul Read. Artists and critics, architects, historians and political scientists, all played a part, working in conditions of secrecy and under the constant threat of arrest, to bring knowledge, ideas and hope to their persecuted colleagues in one of the most repressive states behind the Iron Curtain.’

How did it all begin? In 1977 I opened a philosophy seminar for young people deprived of higher education because of their parents’ role in an effort to humanise socialism in 1960s, which culminated in the ‘Prague Spring’ of 1968 and ended with the Soviet invasion of August 21, 1968. Barbara Day writes: ‘Tomin’s decision to start an open seminar was … a genuine desire to introduce young people to the Ancient Greeks and especially Plato … He loved argument, debate, the crossed swords of protagonist and antagonist; which was also new and exciting for Czech students of the 1970s, accustomed in their university  lectures to sit and take notes of authorized opinions … In May 1978, when the course was gradually winding down for its second summer break, Tomin presented his students with a new idea. He was doing his best for them, he said, but they needed something more. With their permission he would write to some western universities and suggest that their professors became involved in the teaching.’ (Barbara Day, The Velvet Philosophers, The Claridge Press 1999, pp. 27-28)

I intend to organize ‘Three days devoted to philosophy’ once again in Prague next year. I can try to involve students; they have a right to demand that their teachers openly defend their views on the subjects suggested: 1 Self-knowledge in the light of neurophysiology; 2 Kant’s subjectivity of space and time; 3 Plato’s Parmenides in the light of Aristotle’s criticism of the theory of Forms. But I am afraid that on all these themes the Czech philosophers simply follow the views accepted by western (German, French, English speaking) academics. I’ll never forget a friend of mine’s incredulous amazement when he realized – in mid 1970s – that I believed I could make a contribution to our understanding of Plato and Aristotle: ‘Julius, how can you compete with philosophers and classicists at the universities of Heidelberg, Oxford, Cambridge, and Harvard?’ My invitation, which I sent to academics from Oxford, Harvard, Heidelberg, and West Berlin Universities in 1978, to come to my philosophy seminar, was inspired by those words of my friend.

So let me once again test the interest of Oxford philosophers in knowledge; let me have ‘Three days devoted to philosophy’ in Oxford. The Oxford University Parks will be as good for the occasion as the Stromovka in Prague. The Prague ‘Three days’ will be in September, in Oxford they may take place in May.

Why ‘Three days in Oxford devoted to philosophy’ with a question mark? I shall be 77 in 2016; shall I be up to the challenge in a few months’ time? I shall do my best to be physically and mentally fit for the occasion, and so I hope the question will be once again: will Oxford dons be up to the challenge?

Friday, September 11, 2015

Three days in Prague devoted to philosophy – the third day

The third day of the event was devoted to ‘Plato’s Parmenides in the light of Aristotle’s criticism of the theory of Forms’. One person came, my son Marek, who was ready to listen to my talk. To begin with, I asked him to read the introductory passages to my post of December 4, 2014 ‘The narrative scheme of the Parmenides’:

‘R. E. Allen prefaces his ‘Comment’ on Plato’s Parmenides with a motto from Kitto’s Form and Meaning in Drama: ‘the connexion between the form and the content is so vital that the two may be said to be ultimately identified … it follows that it is quite meaningless to consider one of them without constant reference to the other’. In the opening words of the ‘Comment’ Allen writes: ‘The Parmenides is narrated by Cephalus of Clazomenae, who has heard it from Plato’s half-brother, Antiphon, who heard it in turn from Pythodorus, a student of Zeno, who was present at the original conversation.’ (Plato’s Parmenides, p. 69) … This structure is designed to produce a sense of remoteness from the conversation … The conversation that follows is a fiction: it could not have occurred.’ (p. 71)

I view the narrative scheme of the dialogue and its meaning very differently. The introductory discussion is as follows: “When we arrived at Athens from our home in Clazomenae, we met Adeimantus and Glaucon in the Agora. Adeimantus took my hand and said, ‘Welcome, Cephalus, and if you need anything here that we can provide, please say so.’ ‘Why really,’ I replied, ‘we’re here for that very reason: to ask something of you.’ ‘You have only to state it,’ he said. ‘What was the name,’ I said, ‘of your half-brother on your mother’s side? I don’t remember. He was just a boy, the last time I came here from Clazomenae; but that was a long time ago now. His father’s name, I think, was Pyrilampes.’ ‘Quite so,’ he said, ‘and his own is Antiphon. But why do you ask?’ ‘These gentlemen here,’ I said, ‘are fellow citizens of mine, much interested in philosophy. They’ve heard that your Antiphon used to associate with a certain Pythodorus, a companion of Zeno’s, and that he can relate from memory the arguments that once were discussed by Socrates, Zeno, and Parmenides, having often heard them from Pythodorus.’ ‘True’ (Alêthê), he said. ‘Well,’ I replied, ‘that’s what we want, to hear these arguments.’ ‘No difficulty there,’ he said. ‘When Antiphon was young he used to rehearse them diligently … if you will, let’s call on him’ … So we set out to walk, and found Antiphon at home … When we asked him to go through the arguments, he at first hesitated – he said it was a difficult task. But finally, he complied.” (Translation R. E. Allen)’

While Marek read these passages, I found the passage I was looking for; it stands in my post from December 9, 2014, but I shall quote it from Allen’s book, for in the post I slightly curtailed it to suit the context: ‘The conversation Plato here reports is fiction. Cornford’s argument by itself is decisive: “To suppose that anything remotely resembling the conversation in this dialogue could have occurred … would make nonsense of the whole history of philosophy in the fifth and fourth centuries.”’ (p. 74)

After this prelude, I devoted my talk to explaining what a different picture of the historical Parmenides, Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle we obtain, if we look at the dialogue – and at Aristotle’s related criticism of the theory of Forms in his Metaphysics – in the light of Plato’s introduction to the Parmenides in which his brother Adeimantus confirms that it is true (alêthê) that Antiphon can relate from memory the arguments that once were discussed by Socrates, Zeno, and Parmenides, having often heard them from Pythodorus and rehearsed them diligently.

If there are reasons for viewing the conversation between Socrates, Zeno and Parmenides as a fiction which could not have occurred, the reasons must be powerful enough to overturn the expectation of its truthfulness invoked by the narrative scheme. One would expect that the Czech classicists would be willing and ready to defend the accepted academic views, and consequently their views, on Plato’s Parmenides; I had invited every one of them. I hope that next year they will attend the meeting devoted to the dialogue; Jan Hus Foundation will sponsor the event. 

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

3. Self-knowledge and neurophysiology – a reply to David Parker

David asked: ‘Why do you say that consciousness has to be non-corporeal?’

In my third answer I shall once again begin with Aristotle, this time contrasting the physical time of the Physics with the one-ness of time in the De Anima (On the Soul). In the Physics Aristotle defines time as the ‘before and after’ of movement in space, which can be measured and numbered.

In principle, this is how neurophysiology studies and depicts neural processes, relating them to time measured in milliseconds. Let me quote from Carpenter and Reddi’s Neurophysiology: ‘If we know the time-course of the permeabilities [of the nerve cell membrane] we should be able to calculate … the time-course of the action potential itself (p. 30-31) … If we try to stimulate a nerve with a pair of shocks, gradually reducing the interval of time between them … This period, during which it is impossible to stimulate the nerve for a second time, is known as the absolute refractory period (p. 33) … rapid depolarizations [of the nerve cell membrane] are more effective than slow ones, because they get at sodium as it were before potassium has time to rise … Sodium is quick on the draw, but quickly gives up and in fact keels over altogether because it gets inactivated … potassium rises slowly but inexorably to its final value (p. 34) … In nerves, information is mostly coded by the frequency of firing … temporal codes … when action potentials finally reach the end of the axon they open voltage-gated channels, which let calcium in. This then makes the terminal release the transmitter it contains from the vesicles in which it is normally stored. Since each spike is identical, it releases the same quantity of transmitter; consequently altering the frequency causes the rate of transmitter release to change, so that the original information is passed on to the target cell (p. 38-39) …

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In the De Anima Aristotle notes that we discriminate between sensory perceptions of different sensory organs – when we consider a sugar cube, we are aware that its being sweet is different from its being white – and that this discrimination must be perceived by an agency that is one and undivided, in undivided time (hȏste achȏriston kai en achȏristȏi chronȏi, 426b22-29). Aristotle used the sweet and the white as examples, but he could have used the ‘before and after’, which he views as constitutive of our perception of time in the Physics, for from the point of view of the De Anima the past is perceived as different from the future in the undivided present.

The most remarkable aspect of Aristotle’s reflections on time in the Physics is the absence of the present: time is composed (sunkeitai) of the part that has been (to men oun autou gegone) and is not (kai ouk estin), and of the part that is going to be (to de mellei) and is not yet (kai oupȏ estin, 217b33-218a2). The ‘now’ (to nun) plays an important role in his deliberations about time, ‘but it is not a part of time’ (to de nun ou meros, 218a6); it demarcates time as the body that moves demarcates movement: “The ‘now’ follows the body carried along (tȏi de pheromenȏi akolouthei to nun), as time follows motion (hȏsper ho chronos têi kinêsei), for we gain knowledge of the ‘before and after’ in motion by means of the body carried along (tȏi gar pheromenȏi gnȏrizomen to proteron kai husteron en kinêsei), and the ‘now’ is (to nun estin) in so far as the ‘before and after’ is countable (hêi arithmêton to proteron kai husteron, 219b22-25).

Biochemical and bioelectrical processes studied by neurophysiology proceed in a space-time continuum outlined by Aristotle in his Physics.

In the De Anima Aristotle views the ‘now’ very differently: ‘For just as the one and the same says that the good and the bad is different (hoti heteron to agathon kai to kakon), so also when (hote) it says that the one is different and the other is different [must be one and undivided], the when is not accidental (ou kata sumbebêkos to hote)… the undivided one says thus (all’ houtȏ legei) both now and that now (kai nun kai hoti nun), together therefore (hama ara, 426b24-28).

The present comes into its own in Aristotle’s Rhetoric: ‘All that is pleasurable (panta ta hêdea) must be (anankê) either present in being actually perceived (ê en tȏi aisthanesthai einai paronta) or in being remembered as past (ê en tȏi memnêsthai gegenêmena) or in being hoped for as coming in future (ê en tȏi elpizein mellonta). For people perceive the present pleasures (aisthanontai men gar ta paronta), remember the past ones (memnêntai de ta gegenêmena), and hope for the pleasures to come (elpizousi de ta mellonta, 1370a32-35).’ The present is here reflected by Aristotle as the primary field of experience, the past and the future come into view in the present as memories or expectations.

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The psycho-somatic effects of the interplay between the past, present and future can be studied on animals. Let me quote Carpenter and Reddi’s Neurophysiology: ‘Consider a classic example: Pavlov’s famous experiments with dogs … A dog is trained by frequent association of sound and food to salivate when a bell is rung. Since he didn’t do it before, there must have been a change in his neural connections … What we observe is that after sufficient pairings of food with bell, the bell alone eventually produces salivation … What it amounts to is fire together, wire together: neurons representing things that tend to happen together get physically linked together, so that brain eventually embodies a model of the outside world.’ (p.258)

In the ‘Self-knowledge as an imperative’ on my website I wrote: ‘Pace Carpenter and Reddi, in Pavlov’s experiments, as far as I can remember, the conditional stimulus preceded the unconditional stimulus; Pavlov engineered varied gaps between the two … The authors write that fire together, wire together “is the secret of cerebral cortex: it provides a mechanism for creating physical connections between neurons that are often active simultaneously.” But the neural mechanism of fire together, wire together cannot explain Pavlov’s experiments on dogs, let alone constitute a model of the outside world in the brain.’

I have looked at the Wikipedia entry on Pavlov’s experiments on dogs; there the conditioning I remembered from my reading Pavlov (some 57 years ago) is called trace conditioning. I remember most vividly Pavlov’s experiments with visual stimuli, which allowed him to observe the dog’s ability to discriminate between different figures flashed on a screen: A circle appears on the screen, a time interval, food. When the conditional reflex has been established, the circle is followed by no food, but an ellipsis on the screen is followed by food; the dog learns to differentiate between the two.

Pavlov’s experiments can be viewed in terms of the interplay between the past, present, and future. When the conditional reflex has been established, the present picture of a circle is perceived by the dog as an indication of the future, food is to come. When the circle ceases to be followed by food, it is followed by the discomfort caused by the digestive juices produced by the stomach; when it subsequently ceases to evoke any response, the past experience has affected the dog’s present.

Who owns a dog can make such experiments with a lot of fun. You throw your dog a ball. The dog runs to retrieve it. You pretend to throw the ball, the dog runs after it, but it remains in your hand.  After a few such futile attempts, the dog sits and watches you, its eyes full of expectation. If you go on disappointing it, it ceases to be interested, leaves you and does its own business.

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The interplay between the present, past and future acquires a new level of intricacy and intensity thanks to our use of language. Consider a sentence from Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, which I am borrowing from my last post devoted to Kant, ‘Ethical considerations concerning Kant’s transcendental ideality of space and time’, posted on August 27. In the post the sentence is abbreviated and translated by me; now I am bringing it in full in Meiklejohn’s translation: ‘Suppose now, on the other hand, that we have undertaken this criticism (Wenn aber die Kritik nicht geirrt hat,), and have learnt that an object may be taken in two senses, (da sie das Objekt in zweierlei Bedeutung nehmen lehrt), first, as a phenomenon (nämlich als Erscheinung,), secondly, as a thing in itself  (oder als Ding an sich selbst;); and that, according to the deduction of the conceptions of the understanding (wenn die Deduktion ihrer Verstandesbegriffe richtig ist), the principle of causality has reference only to things in the first sense. We then see how it does not involve any contradiction to assert, on the one hand, that the will, in the phenomenal sphere – in visible action, is necessarily obedient to the law of nature, and in so far, not free; and, on the other hand, that, as belonging to a thing in itself, it is not subject to that law, and, accordingly, is free. (mithin auch der Grundsatz der Kausalität nur auf Dinge im ersten Sinne genommen, nämlich sofern sie Gegenstände der Erfahrung sind, geht, eben dieselben aber nach der zweiten Bedeutung ihm nicht unterworfen sind, so wird eben derselbe Wille in der Erscheinung (den sichtbaren Handlungen) als dem Naturgesetze notwendig gemäss und sofern nicht frei, und doch andererseits, als einem Dinge an sich selbst angehörig, jenem nicht unterworfen, mithin als frei, gedacht, ohne dass hierbei ein Widerspruch vorgeht. B XXVII-XXVIII).

All this is one sentence in German; as you read it word by word, phrase by phrase, it sinks from the narrow straits of the conscious presence into the subconscious, yet in the subconscious it is all the time present, and in the interplay between the subconscious and the consciousness a nonverbal understanding of the sentence is growing, until it culminates when you reach the end of the sentence. If you then read Meiklejohn’s very free paraphrase, divided into two sentences, it may help you understand better the underlying German original, and Kant’s German may help you understand what Meiklejohn has done with it in his paraphrase. In doing all this, the time goes by, but your effort to understand Kant’s thought transcends the passing of time in the undivided presence (undivided into the Aristotelian ‘before and after’, the past and the future) of ever intensified understanding.

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

2 Self-knowledge and neurophysiology – a reply to David Parker

David asked: ‘Why do you say that consciousness has to be non-corporeal?’

In my preceding post I based my answer on Aristotle’s view that two bodies cannot be at one and the same place: From the point of view of anatomy and neurophysiology our head is packed with brain; our consciousness presents us with space packed with physical structures, which are organized completely differently in space and time from the way the brain with its neural networks is organized. All we are conscious of is mediated to our consciousness by the brain activities in our head; therefore, our consciousness too must be located in the head. Since two bodies cannot be at one and the same place, consciousness must be non-corporeal.

In the De Anima Aristotle notes that we discriminate between sensory perceptions provided by different sensory organs – when we consider a sugar cube, we are aware that its being sweet is different from its being white – and that this discrimination is sensory and must therefore be perceived by ‘the ultimate sense organ’ (to eschaton aisthêtêrion, 426b16). He argues that these differences must be clear (dêla einai) to something that is one (heni tini) and undivided (achȏriston) and in undivided time (kai en achȏristȏi chronȏi, 426b18-29); this is why it cannot be corporeal (426b15); in the De Anima Aristotle reemphasizes the principle that two bodies cannot be both (hama) in ‘one and the same’ (en tȏi autȏi, 418b17).

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Aristotle’s idea that there must be ‘the ultimate sense organ’, which integrates into one perceptions that are provided by different sense organs, has acquired new urgency in neurophysiology, which can trace sensory stimuli from different sensory organs to their corresponding brain centres, but can’t find any ‘brain centre’, where the sensory information is integrated into the ‘sensory scene’ of our consciousness.

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Aristotle argues that if two such perceptions as ‘white’ and ‘sweet’ were to be perceived as different by two different sensory agencies, ‘it would be the same as if their mutual difference were to be made clear by my perceiving the one and you the other; but it is the one that must say that they are different (dei de to hen legein hoti heteron), for the sweet is different from the white; it is therefore the same one that says this (legei ara to auto); so that as it says this, so it thinks and perceives it’ (426b19-22).

As I look in front of me, my visual field is divided into objects, each of which is perceived as a differentiated unity: the computer screen displaying the text I am writing, each sentence differentiated into words, words into letters … Each of these differentiated unities is conveyed to my brain by thousands of neurons, each of which is an individual agent, functionally connected with other nerves by the actions of transmitters on synapses. How can these individual neurons form the differentiated oneness of my conscious experience of the text I am writing? To use Aristotle’s example, it is like bringing together thousands of men, each of them seeing and reading a different letter, and expecting them to perceive and understand jointly what I am writing.

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The urgency of this problem concerning neurophysiology is well illustrated by David in his reply to my ’Notes on the relevance of neurophysiology to self-knowledge’ posted on July 30: ‘Much of the neurobiological evidence focuses on the analysis of visual pathways. Cognition (and thus mind, if you consider this a fair link?) arises from anatomical and functional aspects: various people (Hubel and Wiesel, Semir Zeki, David van Essen) have shown how simple features such as lines, colours etc.. in the visual cortex arise from lower level processes in the cells and synapses in the retina (already at the retina there is a complex network with several uncertainties of how it works), and how these are used to form perceptions ultimately of the form and position/movement of objects in a visual scene. There is the idea of a “grandmother” cell (more recently the “Jennifer Aniston” cell), a hypothetical cell that is the final point  in the visual cortex processing hierarchy where all the features of dots of light, lines, edges, colour, form, movement, maybe also memory and emotional components, are integrated to give the conscious perception of a face. This is unlikely to be a single cell; we lose many neurons every day and if one cell was responsible we would randomly lose whole percepts. But it could be a network of cells, and when all the features of a grandmothers face, the memory, and the associated feelings are brought together the circuit is active and this gives rise to the thought or actual perception of that face.’

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It may be asked, why Aristotle saw the necessity of perceiving sensory differences by something that is one and undivided, therefore non-corporeal, only when he was considering the problem of ‘the ultimate sensorium’. The reply is simple. When Aristotle considered the functions of the specific sense organs, he viewed them in relation to things perceived: ‘The sense perception (hê aisthêsis) is that which receives the forms of perceived objects without their matter, just as a piece of wax receives the sign of a signet-ring without the iron or gold (De Anima 424a17-20).’ Aristotle believed that by our senses we perceive perceptible things simply as they are. Neurophysiology, which compels us to view the problem of sensory perception face to face with our brain and its neural networks, makes Aristotle’s view that ‘sensory differences must be perceived by something that is one and undivided, therefore non-corporeal’ relevant to every aspect of our sense perception.

Let me illustrate this point with one more quote from David’s reply posted on July 30: ‘Problem of qualia, individual subjective component of perception. Schrodinger said, “The sensation of color cannot be accounted for by the physicist's objective picture of light-waves. Could the physiologist account for it, if he had fuller knowledge than he has of the processes in the retina and the nervous processes set up by them in the optical nerve bundles and in the brain? I do not think so” … That I have a subjective impression of a “redness” of an object that is specific to me does not seem to negate physicalism, that this impression is formed from interactions between nerve cells, just as a perception of a straight line is formed that way.’

But is it true that a perception of a straight line is formed from interaction between nerve cells? The only thing neurophysiology can tell us, as I understand it, is that in the visual cortex we can find units that are able to respond to a specific type of stimulus, such as a straight line, but this does not mean that these units form a perception of a straight line. If one day neurophysiology finds units in the visual cortex that respond to different colours, this does not mean that it will have discovered how the perception of colours is being formed.

Aristotle on his view of sensory perception had a simple explanation of qualia. In order to be able to see white and black, our sensory organ of vision must be neither black nor white actually (mêdeteron autȏn einai energeiai); but potentially it must be both (dunamei d’ amphȏ); it becomes actually black when it perceives black, white when it perceives white (De Anima 424a6-9)