Response to the Timaeus: Passages
28 and 35-36b
by Shuba Gopal
In the Timaeus, Plato
continues the reconciliation of Heraclitean
flux with the Parmenidian stasis conceptions
of existence that he began in the Sophist.
As in the Sophist, Plato shows how such
apparently either/or distinctions can in
fact become 'either and' distinctions. In
the Timaeus, a rich and complex text,
this is done at a number of levels across
a variety of topics. I have chosen to follow
his arguments from two relatively short
passages early on in the text, at 28 and
35-36b.
As Plato outlines the argument
for an intelligent design for the universe,
he begins with a reconciliation between
the intellect and the senses, two entities
that have been on opposite sides of the
fence since Democritus first described their
argument. In the fragment from Democritus,
the intellect claims that it is only convention
which makes a thing sweet or colorful or
pleasurable. The senses refute this saying,
"…you get your evidence only as we give
it to you, and yet you try to overthrow
us. That overthrow will be your downfall."
In the Sophist, Plato suggests that
the sophist, fearful of empirical evidence,
will reject all evidence that does not derive
from pure reason. As the Stranger says,
"He [the sophist] will profess to know nothing
about mirrors or water or even eyesight,
and will confine his question to what can
be gathered from discourse" (239e - 240).
It is exactly this sort of rarefied atmosphere
of pseudo-intellectualism that Democritus
warns against in his dialogue.
In the Timaeus, Plato
takes these two apparently irreconcilable
entities and brings them together by requiring
the presence of the one to allow the other
to function. Plato suggests that in order
for us to apprehend the concept of nous,
or rationality, that underlies the creation
and perpetuation of the cosmos, we must
be able to sense it. In 28c, Timaeus asks,
"Was the world…always in existence and without
beginning, or created, and had it a beginning?
Created, I reply, being visible and tangible
and having a body, and therefore sensible…"
(28c). In other words, had the cosmos remained
merely the intellectual principle of nous,
it would have been eternal, but incomprehensible.
This is not the purpose of the cosmos, Plato
argues. Rather, the cosmos has been designed
in order for us to be able to perceive and
learn from it.
This is reflected at every
level of the design of the cosmos for Plato,
as Marrow notes in his commentary on the
Timaeus. Thus, the stars are placed
in the heavens that we may understand eternity,
while the rhythms of the world - night,
day, month and year - are created to give
us a sense of time, which is "eternal but
moving according to number" (37d - e). Each
of the senses is given to us that we may
be able to better apprehend the reality
and organization of the cosmos. Eyesight
for the perception of time and eternity,
and hearing, smell, taste and touch to complement
this understanding. For each sensory modality,
Plato provides an in-depth analysis of the
perceptual process, always stressing that
the design of the system reflects its intended
use.
So much for the intellect
and the senses: the one cannot exist in
the absence of the other it seems. Plato
acknowledges the importance of the senses
in the Timaeus, but obviously, the
senses exist only that we may better understand
the higher realities of the intellect. It
is through the senses, Plato suggests, that
we may come to understand the abstract intellectual
principles which underlie the cosmos.
In order to carry this point
through, Plato then carries our sensory
perceptions into the realm of the abstract
through his metaphysical geometry, what
I fancifully call his 'metageometry.' The
four elements that we perceive through our
senses, fire, air, water and earth, can
be reduced to abstract intellectual concepts
by correlating each with a side of the triangles
Plato discusses. As esoteric and unreal
as this discussion sounds, Plato takes great
pains to link our sensory experience to
this intellectual conception of the universe.
Marrow suggests that this allows Plato to
provide a feasible explanation for the interconversion
of elements from one to other, such as the
conversion of water to air when it is boiled.
Plato goes further, however, for the whole
second half of Timaeus' speech is the empirical
(and hence sensory) evidence for the metageometric
notions he forwards in the first half of
the speech. By making sensory perception
a prerequisite of intellectual comprehension,
Plato allows the senses to become the hand
maidens and companions of the intellect,
instead of enemies of the worst sort.
Having resolved the conflict
between intellect and the senses, Plato
proceeds to show how it is the intellect
that can bring order, the cosmos, out of
chaos. In 30b, Timaeus argues that
the primordial flux is regulated by the
principle of nous into a form of order.
The flux that pre-exists this ordering appears
to resemble the Heraclitean flux, but the
ordering of the universe that follows does
not lead to the Parmenidian stasis. Rather,
it leads to dynamic order. In this view,
the cosmos is always "in a process of creation
and created" (28c). It is this dynamism
that allows for sensory perception and hence
intellectual apprehension.
The dynamism of the cosmos
is represented at every level of creation,
from the universe to the human body. Plato
takes great pains to describe these dynamic
yet constant processes within the body.
Today, biologists refer to this as the capacity
of the body to maintain 'homeostasis.' Although
the individual components of the body are
always changing, the overall state of the
body is maintained at about the same level
all the time. This is why body temperature,
for instance, never strays more than a degree
above or below normal in the healthy individual.
The dynamic order of the primordial
cosmos can create difference and sameness
within itself in a way that neither chaotic
flux nor static order could. Thus, Plato
describes how the world soul could separate
sameness and difference by the formation
of a series of concentric circles from an
X (36b). As these circles begin to revolve,
they create rest and motion (37d - e). Plato
thereby details the birth not only of existence,
but of the four other Forms he first outlined
in the Sophist.
The Timaeus is therefore
much more than a grand scheme of creation.
It is the philosophical attempt to reconcile
apparently irreconcilable opposites, drawing
the various separate entities into one unified
world soul. The world soul of Plato, however,
is neither entirely in flux as Heraclitus
thought, nor is it eternally the same, as
Parmenides claimed. Rather, it exists in
a dynamic eternity. This may be a difficult
concept to understand, but it is central
to undermining the pernicious tendency to
create irreconcilable divisions where none
are needed.
Re-collections of Timaesian Teleologies
by Maggie Monroe Richter
***This posting hopes to recollect
a few of the ideas that have been passed
between us regarding the Timaeus,
the nature of being (and becoming), the
aim of knowledge, and the authority of conscience.***
Throughout her response to
the Timaeus, Shuba brings light to
the force of reconciliation that is expressed
in Timaeus' cosmology. Shuba writes, "for
each sensory modality, Plato provides an
in-depth analysis of the perceptual process,
always stressing that the design of the
system reflects its intended use." In Timaeus'
"likely account" of the universe, we are
shown an order wherein seeming opposites
(i.e., senses and intellect, eternity and
time) are joined by both function and purpose.
Eyesight, in Timaeus' account, was given
to us that we might observe the movements
of heavenly bodies, thereby leading to the
"idea of time," which "opened the path to
inquiry into the nature of the universe"
(47b). Philosophy itself ("a gift from the
gods...whose value neither has been nor
ever will be surpassed" 47b) is made available
to us by (and because of) our senses.
Timaeus insists not only that
there is kinship between "the orbits of
intelligence in the universe...[and] the
revolutions of our own understanding" (47c),
but that the awareness of this kinship should
serve a purpose-- namely, to "stabilize
the straying revolutions within ourselves
by imitating the completely unstraying revolutions
of the god" (47c). In other words, "the
human soul ought to take its cues from the
world soul" (Elfie, 4/9). If time is a "moving
image of eternity" (37d), perhaps it could
be said that eternity also resides within
the productions of time-- visible even (and
especially) to the naked eye. After all,
the image (or system) of time was not fashioned
only to move in the sky and amuse us with
its motions. Rather, eternity is available
to our perception that we might chart 'the
good life' by its example.
As we have discussed, the
teleology of Timaeus' cosmos is reflected
in its presentation. Indeed, it is no accident
that Timaeus GIVES his likely account of
the cosmos as a gift to Socrates (who had
given a speech the day before). This is
NOT an act of social convention. Rather,
the "decorum" surrounding Timaeus' logos
enacts the heart of his cosmos (the demiurge)--a
good heart that loves justice, truth, and
goodness--the very qualities of which it
is constituted, and the same principles
which it placed in the human soul. Our senses
are all shown as gifts from the gods that
are not to be taken for granted. For instance,
the ears do not perceive harmony and rhythm
merely for our amusement (or "irrational
pleasure"). Rather, harmony and rhythm have
been given to our perception from the muses
so that we might "bring order to any orbit
in our souls that has become unharmonized,
and make it concordant with itself" (47d).
For some time, we have been
raising the question, "what is the nature
of the gift?" If we follow the Timaeus,
realizing that the decorum that constitutes
both form and content of Timaeus' cosmos
likewise structures the form of Plato's
dialogue, I think that conscience would
reply to this question, saying, perhaps,
that the gift is in our nature, and likewise,
that our nature is the gift.
If, as Timaeus insists, "the
cosmos has been designed in order for us
to be able to perceive and learn from it"
(Shuba), then our learning, as well as our
techne, must be understood as a re-collection
of what already is. With conscience at the
helm, then, our purpose could be understood
as the remembering (or seeking) of our purpose.
THE CHALLENGE:
As we have discussed throughout this course
(and brought to fruition in our last class),
if the universe is to be understood as an
educational body, we must follow the lead
of the gift in our learning (via Johnny
and Walton). We must dare (as Claire points
out) to educate each other in the tradition
of prudence ("Scrutari veritam causasque
latentes"), thereby loving language, coming
to know its intracacies (via Leigh and constant
discernment in our listening), and affirming
the authority of the individual conscience.
Additionally, "philosophy is a living thing
which can only come forward if one takes
responsibility for the development of one's
own mind" (Elfie). In light of the idea
that the mind seeks its nature through cultural
representations, we are reminded that the
challenge of a teleological/educational
universe extends to all the walks of our
interactions in the world. Returning to
Elfie's "On the Authority of Conscience,"
the practice of Socratic inquiry (as it
initiates moral philosophy) is invoked as
the birthright of all human beings. Considering
the social implications of a cosmos wherein
each human soul is understood to have an
equal measure of divine knowledge within
it (knowledge that is "open to any interested
student"), it is not surprising that the
Socratic principle of free inquiry is first
to be exiled from tyrannies of all kinds.
Whether conscience will take its rightful
place at the helm of consciousness ("whether
the soul will learn to walk"), is ours to
consider. Timaeus did not make a gift of
his cosmology just to be nice to Socrates,
and neither did the muses send harmony for
the "irrational pleasure" of humankind.
Just so, I submit that we are not making
such dire considerations for the sake of
fulfilling course requirements. Perhaps
teleology is contagious? If we agree (even
in some latent corner of the mind) that
time isn't moving merely to keep us entertained,
perhaps we can approach an active understanding
of the role of equity in our quest for knowledge.
Necessity and Chance in the Timaeus
by Greg Seiffert
What is the difference, or
the relationship, between necessity and
chance? Most of us are confused. In the
Timaeus, Plato approaches the interplay
of chance and necessity by seeing intelligent
persuasion as the primary cause in the universe.
This, in turn, extends into human affairs,
another area in which Plato felt we could
use some clarification -- an area which
is perhaps more difficult to understand
than are the causes operating in the universe.
What Plato's cosmetology allows, however
-- and this carries into his practical reasoning
about human affairs -- is space in which
to entertain the possibilities arising from
the interplay of determinacy and indeterminacy.
It is similar to the openness which allows
the Demiurge to fashion the universe intelligently,
respecting both chance and necessity.
The relationship between necessity
and chance is difficult to think about.
Our world seems at times governed by necessity
and at other times by chance. The difficulty
of these concepts can lead us to settle
prematurely on a conclusion about their
relationship. As with other important distinctions,
Plato encourages us not to oversimplify
the relationship. The interplay of necessity
and chance is emphasized in the Timaeus.
Moreover, Plato elevates intelligent purpose
as that which, having learned to see the
interplay of necessity and chance, shapes
the world.
For the better part of the
Timaeus, Plato describes many ways in which
necessity operates in the world. Morrow
summarizes this, saying that "the world
on which the creator sets to work is characterized
by necessity in the sense that specific
effects follow regularly from specific causes.
It is because of this that the creator can
use these works of necessity for his purposes"
(Morrow 428). But a deterministic universe,
in the sense Democritus described, would
not account for purpose. Morrow opposes
purpose and necessity. We could say equally
that a random universe would not account
for purpose. If there was no way in which
we could understand necessary causes, the
creator could not intend anything at all;
nor could the creator intend anything if
everything was already determined. With
sustained inquiry, we realize that necessity
and purpose are not exactly opposed; as
with many of the distinctions Plato shows
to us, "opposition" fails to describe the
relationship. Necessity, chance, and purpose
exist simultaneously. Most of us, however,
lack the patience of the Demiurge, so we
tend to dismiss the interplay of necessity,
chance and purpose, either by over-simplifying
their relationship or by ignoring it. This
leads to the "pathetic confusion," identified
by Morrow (423); certain assumptions we
make about determinacy, indeterminacy, and
purpose blatantly contradict other assumptions.
Plato's cosmetology is bound
up with a concern for human affairs. Timaeus's
explanation extends into the way humans
are able to purposefully manipulate their
environment. Humans are able to understand
the causes of certain situations, and are
thus able to encourage certain effects.
To take a basic example, the craftsperson
uses techne to design something,
such as a clay pot. Techne represents
the understanding of the causes involved
in making the pot. As far as pots are concerned,
chance (tyche) has been overcome.
Here we may recall Seung's analysis of "the
techne/tyche antithesis":
"the progress of human civilization can
be described as the conquest of tyche
by the power of techne, and its motto
can be phrased as ‘where tyche rules,
techne shall control'" (Seung 16).
Of course it would be misleading to believe
that chance has disappeared from the universe,
just because humans understand certain technical
arts. If chance did disappear, there would
be no space in which to maneuver and persuade
necessity.
What seems a simple case in
some areas of human endeavor, such as making
pots, is harder to understand in others.
Morrow suggests that Democritus was as confused
as the rest of us about what connection
more important human affairs, such as ethics,
might have to the structure of the cosmos.
Democritus probably just dodged the issue,
according to Morrow, since "as far as we
can understand," Democritus's ethical system
"has very little connection to his physics"
(424). Perhaps in human ethics, progress
cannot simply be understood as a matter
of techne. Nonetheless, as in his
description of the cosmos, Plato wishes
to cultivate patient objectivity in his
pursuit of ethics.
Elfie has said that Plato
is taking the role of the Demiurge in his
works. Plato was dissatisfied with previous
attempts to explain causal relationships;
he thought the explanations erred either
on the side of compulsion or on the side
of chaos. In both cases, intelligent purpose
is not given its due as the primary cause
behind events -- the cause that, ideally,
takes both necessity and chance into account,
the material with which it is working and
the possibility that other, unseen agents
might also be present. Plato's dialogues
maintain a respect for the materials with
which he is working, and he attempts to
persuade these materials rather than compel
them. "The result," writes Morrow, "is the
product of intelligence, but certainly not
of any constraint by intelligence. Rather,
it comes about easily and naturally from
the co-operation of all these forces, each
of which produces the effects that could
be expected from the nature it has" (Morrow
430). Again, we must make a distinction
between the potter's clay and the materials
with which the craftsman Plato works. We
cannot say that, in Plato's dialogues, results
come about easily. Plato deals with human
and divine affairs; although he aspires
to the Demiurge's patience, he cannot hope
to accomplish his task with the same ease.
What is important is that Plato, daunting
as his own task may be, carries on the craftsman's
spirit: the interplay of necessity and possibility,
in human affairs as in the material world,
leaves space for intelligence to work its
persuasion.
In his works, Plato's respect
for his materials, and for the space between
possibility and necessity, is evident both
in his refusal to engage in dogmatism, and
in his dramatic and self-critical style.
Plato respects the materials with which
he works, and yet places them under relentless
scrutiny. In the Sophist, for example,
Plato criticizes the Parmenidean doctrine
without discrediting it as though the doctrine
is useless now that Plato has arrived. Everything
is left open to question, as Elfie has said.
Plato pursues his own design, but gives
the same care to ideas already set forth
that he does to ideas of his own. His respect
extends even to the reader, in that Plato's
sense of humor is self-critical as well.
He puts us in a position to question him,
not just those he is questioning.
The Timaeus exhibits
this tendency supremely. Timaeus' account
is framed as a possibility by the somewhat
strange introduction to the dialogue. Plato
does not intend Timaeus' account, brilliant
as it is, to be taken as dogma. Some commentators
go so far as to say that the dialogue is
a parody, due to some of the ridiculous
premises set fourth, particularly in the
dialogue's introduction.(1)
Timaeus himself warns that his account is
only a "likely tale...It behooves us not
to look for any thing beyond this" (29d).
But it would be a mistake to repudiate the
account of the cosmos as a joke on Plato's
part. Plato's genius lies in his ability
to be serious while at the same time undermining
his own position. If Timaeus' account of
the cosmos and it's connection to humanity
should be entertained rather than accepted
outright, how much more should this be true
for scientific accounts which present themselves
as dogma, rather than as mere possibility.
We can learn from Plato to be entertained
by these accounts, while at the same time
considering their scientific value. In the
Timaeus, Plato sustains a scientific
explanation of the cosmos while maintaining
a sense of humor, and the ability to maintain
this tension recalls the ability of the
Demiurge to respect chance and necessity,
while at the same time pursuing an intelligent
purpose.
(1). See James Arieti,
Interpreting Plato: The Dialogues as Drama.
His analysis of the Timaeus and other
dialogues makes it seem as though Plato
was a comedian as much as a philosopher.
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