Plato on Time and the World 3031281985, 9783031281983

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Plato on Time and the World Edited by Viktor Ilievski Daniel Vázquez Silvia De Bianchi

Plato on Time and the World

Viktor Ilievski  •  Daniel Vázquez Silvia De Bianchi Editors

Plato on Time and the World

Editors Viktor Ilievski Autonomous University of Barcelona Barcelona, Spain

Daniel Vázquez Mary Immaculate College Limerick, Ireland

Silvia De Bianchi University of Milan Milan, Italy

ISBN 978-3-031-28197-6    ISBN 978-3-031-28198-3 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-28198-3 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and ­transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG. The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

Preface

The project of the present volume originated as a follow-up to the debate that took place on 11–13 May 2021, at the online conference entitled “Plato on Time, Eternity and the World”, which the editors organized within the framework of the ERC project PROTEUS—Paradoxes and Metaphors of Time in Early Universe(s). On that occasion Barbara Sattler, Luc Brisson, Sarah Broadie, Federico Petrucci and Carolina Araujo shared their ideas with our research team and the public, thereby giving rise to a stimulating discussion that inspired the present collection. That occasion also provided the opportunity for us all to interact, unfortunately for the last time, with Sarah Broadie, who sadly passed away a few months later, on August 8th, 2021. She gave a talk entitled “Timaean Demiurgy: Is It All Over and Done With?”, in which she scrutinized the reasons why we should interpret in metaphysical terms the temporal profile assigned to the cosmos in Plato’s Timaeus. In a sense, this question represents a sort of a guideline for the present volume, in which the authors give different interpretations of Plato’s view of the world, its generation, and the meaning of temporality of/within it. Many of the readers will be genuinely and mainly interested in this book because they are scholars or students in Ancient Philosophy, or perhaps they are historians and philosophers of science interested in cosmological aspects or in ancient theories of matter and motion, or again interested in the reflections regarding time in the antiquity. However, v

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there is a further group of readers who might want to consider the relevance that Plato’s views of time and the world have for current theoretical physics. This consideration is not new. We have a relatively recent example of a collection that tries to make philosophers and physicists interact on the interpretation of Plato’s Timaeus, its impact across different epochs and on current cosmology and physics. I am referring to One Book, the Whole Universe (2010) edited by Richard Mohr and Barbara Sattler, which is one of the books that inspired the ERC project PROTEUS itself. Those acquainted with the project PROTEUS know that it investigates strategies devised throughout different epochs and authors of Western philosophy who discuss time in cosmology, namely it studies how they represented time, e.g., as being fundamental or not fundamental, as continuous or discrete, depending on the idea of the universe and the mathematics endorsed. However, the project is also showing a reciprocal relationship between the idea of the world and that of time. In other words, it seems that depending on the idea of time (space and matter) that one endorses, a very specific configuration of the cosmos arises. Current studies have shown that this is not mere coincidence and that it is innate in us to generate such connection that produces patterns of representation of the cosmos. Indeed, ethnoanthropological and archeoastronomical studies leading to the creation of the field of ethnomathematics (D’Ambrosio, Ubiratan. 2016. An Overview of the History of Ethnomathematics. In Current and Future Perspectives of Ethnomathematics as a Program, Milton Rosa et al., 5–10. Berlin: Springer; Oliveras, Maria L. 1999. Ethnomathematics and Mathematical Education. ZDM 31/3: 85–91.) identified and discussed the nature of the structural link between mathematical practices and cosmovision developed in different contexts, including Egyptian, Mesopotamian and pre-Colombian civilizations (see Rubiño-Martín, José et al. (eds.). 2009. Cosmology Across Cultures: ASP Conference Series Vol. 409. San Francisco: Astronomical Society of the Pacific; Ruggles, Clive L. N. (ed.). 2015. Handbook of Archaeoastronomy and Ethnoastronomy. Berlin: Springer.). Several studies have also shown that cosmographies informed cosmovisions in central America, New Guinea, and in the Babylonian cultures. These cosmographies were all based on a geometro-­mathematical ordering and are representatives of

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the structural link between the way in which we produce the series of natural numbers, the way in which we count (through sets of objects or parts of the body) and produce notions of time (see Gontier, Nathalie. 2018. Cosmological and Phenomenological Transitions Into How Humans Conceptualize and Experience Time. Time and Mind 11/3: 325–335). This is just one possible direction to explore the link between the idea of the World and time, and many others can be investigated. Those who are acquainted with the standard model of current cosmology are aware of the fact that it is based on the major tenet of spacetime continuum of general relativity, and that gravity is derived from the dynamics of spacetime and matter. Current approaches to Quantum Gravity, on the contrary, try to describe in various ways the “coming into being” of the continuous four-dimensional world in which we live, by portraying in different ways discrete space and time and continuous spacetime emerging from discrete structures (as approximation). The fact that some of these approaches, depending on the formalism adopted and the dimensionality considered therein, refer to fundamental structures as triangles or tetrahedra, should capture the attention of those who rightly noticed that Plato’s view of the fundamental geometry of the physical world identified the very same elements. From the conceptual standpoint, there is another extremely interesting pattern that connects Plato and current fundamental physics. Plato’s chōra and the elements are not referring to the direct description of physical matter and atoms, but to something more fundamental, to a sort of that fundamental or micromatter that theories of Quantum Gravity are still searching for. Plato’s cosmology and cosmogony seem to encode universal pattern of construction of the way in which we think of interacting concepts, such as continuous or discrete space(time) and “stuff”, or the way in which we geometrize continuous structures out of discrete elements. The same interest that bounds together theoretical physicists and Plato scholars today is embodied by the reflections upon the coming into being of the world and of time that happen at once. How do we have to interpret the term “at once”? Is it something that simply means simultaneous appearance or simultaneous motion, e.g., as soon as the planets start moving time starts flowing, or do we rather have to focus on the transition from an atemporal to a temporal world? Is this transition implying a

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specific form of instantaneity as atemporality or has it more to do with an embodiment of eternity in the sempiternity of the physical world? In a very similar way, when confronting the solutions of equations in Quantum Cosmology and Quantum Gravity, we can find different options and possibilities, such as the idea that our universe resulted from another one and underwent a Bounce, or that our universe emerged as a condensate out of a process called “geometrogenesis”. In any scenario, time (and in the case of geometrogenesis also space) is considered to be emergent. This non-fundamentality of time, at least from a metaphysical standpoint, is a common trait of Plato’s cosmogony as depicted in the Timaeus, and is echoed in many of the current Quantum Gravity approaches. The problem of thinking of our universe as resulting from a transition represents a pattern in Western thought that is far from being clearly solved or stated in perspicuous terms and it persisted throughout centuries. Finally, there is another aspect that makes us think about the relevance of Plato’s conception of time and the world and it has to do with the problem of our destination, more precisely with the question of how we want to live on this planet and in the cosmos. This question is extremely pressing now, not just for philosophers or theoretical physicists, but for any human being; this volume touches this question in some of its contributions, thereby opening the reflection on ethics and morals. Before concluding, I would like to remember that this was the topic of the discussion that Sarah Broadie and I had in person in March 2018 in Durham. I shall never forget her words and I hope that her spirit can accompany this volume as being one of the speakers at the conference that inspired it. My deepest gratitude goes to Viktor and Daniel for their work that deeply stimulated the research team and myself. Milan, Italy

Silvia De Bianchi

Acknowledgement

This result is part of the PROTEUS project that has received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme (Grant agreement No. 758145).

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Contents

1 I ntroduction  1 Viktor Ilievski and Daniel Vázquez 2 Time  and Astronomy in Plato’s Timaeus  9 Daniel Vázquez 3 The Instant (ἐξαίφνης) in Plato’s Parmenides 155e4–157b5 31 Luc Brisson 4 Time,  Being and Language in Plato’s Timaeus 47 Lorenzo Giovannetti 5 Psychogony:  Did Plato’s World Soul Come into Being (in Time)? 77 Laura Marongiu 6 The  Perfect World. On the Relation Between the World and the Paradigm in Plato’s Timaeus101 Federico M. Petrucci

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7 Why  Particulars “Play Both Sides” (Resp. 479b10)? Uniform and Multiform Entities in Plato’s Two-World Theory123 Filippo Forcignanò 8 Generation:  A Programmatic Reading of Timaeus 47e3–58c4151 Carolina Araújo 9 What  Is the Matter with Necessity and Space? Some Reflections on the Timaeus179 Viktor Ilievski Index of Passages Cited213 N  ominum Index225

Notes on Contributors

Carolina Araujo  is Professor of Philosophy at the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro, working mainly on Ancient Greek Philosophy and Women in Philosophy. Her latest book is Cooperative Flourishing in Plato’s Republic: a Theory of Justice (2023). Luc Brisson  Director of Research [Emeritus] at the National Center for Scientific Research (Paris [Villejuif ], France; Centre Jean Pépin, UMR 8230 CNRS-ENS, PSL), is known for his works on both Plato and Plotinus, including bibliographies, translations, and commentaries. He has also published numerous works on the history of philosophy and religions in Antiquity. Silvia De Bianchi  (Università degli Studi di Milano Statale & Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona) is Associate Professor at the University of Milan. She is PI of the ERC project Paradoxes and Metaphors of Time in Early Universe(s) investigating temporality in different cosmological models and the legacy of Plato’s Timaeus. Filippo Forcignanò is Associate Professor of History of Ancient Philosophy at the University of Milan, with a primary focus on Plato’s philosophy, the debate on the Theory of Forms in the Old Academy, and the presence of pre-­Socratic themes in Platonic metaphysics. In addition to several articles, he has published “Forme, linguaggio, sostanze: il dibatxiii

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tito sulle idee nell’Academia antica” (Milan 2017), and an annotated translation of the “Seventh Letter” (Rome 2020). Lorenzo Giovannetti  is Researcher at ILIESI-CNR. Before that he was Postdoc at Eberhard-Karls-Universität Tübingen. He has published on Plato in international venues. His monograph Eidos and Dynamis. The Intertwinement of Being and Logos in Plato’s Thought (IISF Press) has received a recognition of excellence by the International Plato Society. Viktor Ilievski  is a Postdoctoral Researcher in Ancient Philosophy. He has been affiliated with the Autonomous University of Barcelona and the University of Bucharest. He works mostly on Platonic metaphysics and cosmology, as well as on the problem of evil. His most recent publication is Plato’s Theodicy: The Forgotten Fount. Laura Marongiu  received her PhD in Philosophy at the Universities of Cagliari and Cologne and is postdoctoral fellow at the University of Milan within the ERC Project “PROTEUS”. Her research interests center on the history of philosophy and the history of mathematics, with special emphasis on Plato and the Platonic tradition. Federico M. Petrucci is Associate Professor of History of Ancient Philosophy at the University of Turin. His main interests are Plato and the Platonist tradition. He recently published a new critical edition, with traslation and commentary, of Plato’s Timaeus (Introduction by Franco Ferrari; Milano 2022). Daniel Vázquez  is an Associate Professor and Head of the Department of Philosophy at Mary Immaculate College, Limerick, and a member of the Trinity Plato Centre. Before his current appointment, he held positions at the UAB (Spain), USP (Brazil), and Oxford (UK). He works primarily on ancient Greek philosophy, particularly on Plato, the Stoics, and the scepticism of Sextus Empiricus.

Abbreviations

Aristotle Gen. corr. De generatione et corruptione Metaph. Metaphysics Ph. Physics DK

Diels-Kranz, Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker

Hermias In Phdr.

In Platonis Phaedrum Scholia

Homer Il. Iliad LM

Laks-Most: Early Greek Philosophy

Philoponus De aet. mundi De aeternitate mundi contra Proclum

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xvi Abbreviations

Plato Ap. Apologia Cra. Cratylus Epin. Epinomis Grg. Gorgias Leg. Leges Men. Meno Prm. Parmenides Phd. Phaedo Phdr. Phaedrus Plt. Politicus Resp. Respublica Soph. Sophista Symp. Symposium Tht. Theaetetus Ti. Timaeus

Plotinus Enn. Enneades

Plutarch De an. proc.

De animae procreatione in Timaeo

Proclus Elem. Theol. In Prm. In Ti. Theol. Plat.

Elements of Theology In Platonis Parmenidem comentaria In Platonis Timaeum commentarii Theologia Platonica

Simplicius In Phys.

In Aristotelis de Physica Commentarii

Syrianus In metaph.

In Aristotelis Metaphysica commentaria

1 Introduction Viktor Ilievski and Daniel Vázquez

When we study and teach Plato, we often focus on his most famous and distinct contribution, the theory of Forms. Forms are eternal, unchangeable, incorporeal, intelligible, and unqualified objects that are introduced to explain the world around us. But this world is corporeal, perceptible, inside of time and constantly changing. This contrast prompts a fundamental and difficult question: how exactly does Plato conceives the physical world and its relationship to Forms? This book focuses on two central topics that could help us answer that question. The first one is the Platonic concept of time. What is it, how is it defined, what is it not, and how does it help us describe the changing realities surrounding us? The second one is Plato’s understanding of the perceptible world. How is it related to Forms, and how exactly does it V. Ilievski (*) Autonomous University of Barcelona, Barcelona, Spain e-mail: [email protected] D. Vázquez Mary Immaculate College, Limerick, Ireland e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 V. Ilievski et al. (eds.), Plato on Time and the World, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-28198-3_1

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work? These are central, wide-ranging, and highly contested questions that have been garnering attention in recent Platonic scholarship. We have ensembled an international team that aims to offer bold, innovative, and thought-provoking answers to these questions. The contributions represent a diverse range of starting points, methodologies, and interpretative traditions whose collective aim is to challenge your assumptions about Plato’s philosophy and help you rethink and revisit the Platonic corpus with fresh eyes. In one way or another, all the chapters tackle both central topics of this book. But they can also be divided into four thematic pairs. The first one focuses on time. Thus, chapter two tackles the notion of time in Plato’s Timaeus, and the third one explores the notion of the instant in the Parmenides. The second pair of chapters explores more closely the connection between time and the world. Chapter four discusses how discourse connects time and the world in the Timaeus. The fifth chapter focuses on whether the world-soul comes to be in time. The third pair of chapters focuses on the relationship between the physical world and the intelligible realm. Chapter six discusses how the world imitates the Forms, whereas chapter seven explores the relationship between sensible particulars and Forms. The final pair of chapters discusses the central concepts that allow us to understand how the physical world works. The penultimate chapter tackles the concept of generation, and the last one, the role of Necessity and the receptacle. In what follows, we summarize the theses and main arguments of each chapter.

1 Time The volume’s first contribution dedicated exclusively to the puzzles of time in Plato is Daniel Vázquez’s chapter “Time and Astronomy in Plato’s Timaeus”. Vázquez develops his vision of Timaean time against the background of a two-millennia long line of interpretational conundrums and offers a well-crafted argument that promises to represent a significant step forward in the debate. The main thesis is that Plato in the Timaeus conceives of time as a complex but unified astronomical event consisting of the meticulously harmonized movements of the seven luminaries and the

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earth, taken as a whole. This implies that time for Plato is a physical, i.e., corporeal, and therefore visible phenomenon. It is characterized by infinite duration into the future, while it is finite with respect to the past, being, according to the letter of the Timaeus, created and set in motion. Its mode of existence is, thus, sempiternity. Conceived of as such, time has two basic functions to perform in the Platonic cosmos. First, it serves as a moving image of eternity, which is also Plato’s fundamental definition of time in the Timaeus. By its incessant and never-ending coordinated motions, the unified astronomic event that is the Timaean time imitates eternity and makes the cosmos as everlasting as an engendered thing can ever be. Second, through the observable regularity and harmony of its celestial motion, time sets the perfect paradigm of rational activity. In this way it enthuses mankind to embrace the study of mathematics and philosophy, which are ultimately meant to unlock the secret of virtuous and meaningful life. In his concise and provocative contribution, Luc Brisson explores Plato’s use of the notion of the instant (ἐξαίφνης) in the Parmenides. The chapter is entitled “The instant (ἐξαίφνης) in Plato’s Parmenides 155e4–157b5”, and the overarching interpretative context in which the author situates his discussion are the following theses. First, the entire second part of the dialogue is based upon a single hypothesis of Parmenides [εἰ ἕν ἐστιν, if it (being = the world) is one]—which was defended by Zeno in Parmenides 128a–b—and represents a series of dialectic exercises meant to strengthen young Socrates’ capacity to defend the validity of the theory of Forms. Second, the passage under scrutiny (Prm. 155e4–157b5) does not contain any Platonic doctrine, but instead reflects the historical Parmenides’ and Zeno’s understanding of time and its parts. Brisson thus asserts that when Plato refers to the instant in the relevant passage of the Parmenides, he actually alludes to Zeno’s “Arrow paradox” which is related to the phenomenon of change in the physical world, as well as that Plato works with the Parmenidean/Zenonian concept of ἐξαίφνης as a discrete part of time. Plato’s own understanding of both the instant and time are radically different. He conceives of the former primarily in the epistemological sense of a sudden, almost mystical grasp of the higher realities, while of the latter as a continuum, and not as a succession of separate moments or instances. Therefore, the elucidation of ἐξαίφνης in the Parmenides is not Platonic, but instead Parmenidean/Zenonian.

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2 Time and the World Chapter four, written by Lorenzo Giovannetti, is entitled “Time, Being and Language in Plato’s Timaeus”. In it, the author explores a rarely considered link between two very influential discourses of Plato’s spokesperson in the eponymous dialogue. These are Ti. 37e3–38b3, and two related passages of Timaeus’ proem, namely 28a1–4 and 29b2–c3. In the former, Plato discusses tensed and tenseless application of the verb “to be” to the ever-flowing forms (εἴδη) of time in the realm of Becoming, and to the motionless eternity of the world of Being, respectively. While analysing Ti. 37e3–38b3, Giovannetti clarifies the nature of forms of time (“was” and “will be”), as contrasted with parts of time (days, months, etc.); discloses the epistemological and normative function of the tenseless “is” as applied to eternal Being; discusses the dependence of tensed and tenseless linguistic expressions on the ontological status of the entities they denote. Passing to the relevant passages of the proem, the author delves on the nature of the distinction between Being and Becoming on one hand, and between the accounts that aim at describing them, on the other; next he illuminates the purport of Plato’s statement that accounts (λόγοι) are kindred (συγγενεῖς) to the things of which they are interpreters (ἐξηγηταί). In this way, it is made clear that the passage on the form of time (37e3–38b3), and the parts of the proem on Being, Becoming and the accounts that explicate them (28a1–4, 29b2–c3) share a very important commonality: they both emphasise the dependence relation between the different sets of ontological entities and the accounts that facilitate the cognition of each of them separately. Chapter five bears the title “Psychogony: Did Plato’s World Soul Come into Being (in Time)?”. In it, Laura Marongiu investigates the puzzle of the purported generation of the immortal World Soul in the Timaeus and its relation to some allied interpretational problems. The most prominent among these are: a) the seemingly contradictory account of the beginningless soul provided in the Phaedrus, and b) Timaeus’ application of temporal parlance to the coming to be of the imperishable cosmos from the pre-cosmic state. As for the former, Marongiu claims that it should and can be harmonized with the Timaean notion of a soul that has had a

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beginning. Of key importance in this regard is the difference in the relevant contexts set up by Plato in the Phaedrus and the Timaeus. While in the Phaedrus the soul is defined as the ἀρχή of all motion and therefore must not be preceded by anything—lest infinite regress is generated—the World Soul of the Timaeus remains dependent on a higher principle, and thus at least logically proceeds from it. When it comes to the latter cluster of problems, it is obvious that they cannot be discussed in isolation from the literalist-metaphorist controversy that surrounds Plato’s creation story in the Timaeus; and although the author declines to overtly take sides, she argues that the non-literal reading, with all its shortcomings, should be given precedence at certain junctures. Thus, while, e.g., the issue of the role that the World Soul plays in the pre-cosmic motion cannot be satisfactorily resolved by neither, the non-literal reading allows for a much neater explanation of the World Soul’s seniority with respect to the cosmic body. Since the alternative view results in irreconcilable difficulties, even absurdities, the World Soul’s priority with respect to the world’s body must be non-temporal, i.e., ontological.

3 The World and the Forms In chapter six, Federico M. Petrucci discusses the intricate subject of the way in which the sensible cosmos imitates its intelligible model. The chapter’s title is “The Perfect World. On the Relation Between the World and the Paradigm in Plato’s Timaeus”, and its argument mainly focuses on two specific mimetic relations. The first one is that of the Paradigm, i.e., the intelligible Living Being—interpreted by the author as identical with the world of Forms in its entirety—and the created world, while the second is that of eternity and its moving image, i.e., time. The study of both these kinds of imaging leads to the same conclusion: with the generation of the one, complete, sempiternal world, the Demiurge does not replicate the intelligible model’s stable and unchanging nature, but rather its dynamic and all-inclusive structure. This conclusion is entailed by three premises. First, the Demiurge’s omnibenevolence warrants that he will construct the best possible world by contemplating the most

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complete Paradigm. Second, as per the doctrine of five greater kinds developed in the Sophist, the ontology of the organic whole that is the Living Being is dynamic and effervescent. Third, the nature of eternity, on the likeness of which time has been framed, is also one of intelligent motion and life, and not only of static unity. It is on account of these properties of the Paradigm and its mode of existence, i.e., of eternity, that the sensible image is rightly called a living being and a majestic god whose lifespan is measured by everlasting time. Filippo Forcignanò’s “Why particulars ‘play both sides’ (Resp. 479b10)? Uniform and multiform entities in Plato’s Two-World Theory”, is the seventh chapter of this volume. Its main objective is to illuminate the nature of the sensible particulars that inhabit and partially constitute the Platonic cosmos. Fundamental for the author’s argument is his bottom-up understanding of Plato’s ontological theory. That is to say, although the sensible world for Plato is but an image of the intelligible one, what prompted him to postulate the latter was his comprehension of the former, influenced by Heraclitean, Parmenidean, and Anaxagorean ideas, as well as by his own search for relative stability. Therefrom the importance of sustained inquiry into the Platonic concept of concrete particulars. The chapter commences with a discussion of the differences between Forms and particular objects, and elucidates the nature of the latter’s dependence on the former. The Forms are monoeidetic, i.e., simple and unitary, while the concrete particulars are polyeidetic—their properties are derived, through the relation of participation, from the transcendent Forms. The concrete particulars are thus not only dependent on the monoeidetic entities, but also never fully what they appear to be; the particulars themselves and their properties remain just approximations to the ideal standard. This doctrine remains unchanged throughout Plato’s middle and late periods. The significant novelties of the Timaeus, which are the χώρα—interpreted by the author as both space and stuff—and the Demiurge, are there only to provide the necessary stability to the sensible particulars and to clarify the way in which the relation between them and the Forms is established, respectively.

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4 Generation, Necessity, and the Receptacle Chapter eight, “Generation: a programmatic reading of Timaeus, 47e3–58c”, authored by Carolina Araújo, engages with the difficult issue of the pre-cosmic and cosmic generation in the Timaeus. Its main thesis is that γένεσις is a genuine cosmogonic principle, on a par with those of τὸ ὄν and ὑποδοχή—and not only an effect of the coming together of the latter two. Besides, γένεσις (generation) and ὑποδοχή—here designated as “the bearer”, both fall under the category of the secondary cause, ἀνάγκη, or “the inevitable”. They are utilized by the primary cause, the Demiurge—who has no alternative material at his disposal—to fashion the world as we know it. Generation itself, during the first phase of its causal activity, i.e., in the pre-cosmic state, is represented by the interaction of the bearer and the dissimilar powers. The latter—which are identical with the notorious traces of Timaeus’ cosmology—affect portions of the former with their rudimentary properties, and cause disorderly motion, differentiation, and primitive visibility. The like-to-like attraction is a result of the inherent motion of the bearer, while the notorious elemental traces of Timaeus’ cosmology are to be identified with the portions of the bearer affected by the dissimilar powers. The fundamental aspect of the phase of cosmic γένεσις, or in-world generation, is the demiurgic intervention on the bearer and the powers. The Demiurge, or the Intellect, imposes form and number, i.e., order, upon the power-­ affected portions of the bearer, i.e., on the traces, and thus gives rise to the primary bodies, which are the four elements. Once formed and endowed with tridimensionality, they enter into a complex mutual interplay and perpetuate the motion of the world, this time however—on account of the demiurgic intervention and the presence of the World Soul—in an orderly fashion. In the closing contribution to the volume, entitled “What is the Matter with Necessity and Space? Some Reflections on the Timaeus”, Viktor Ilievski engages with a long-standing and contentious issue—the status and nature of the Timaean ἀνάγκη and χώρα. Ever since Aristotle, the latter has been associated or identified with “Platonic matter”, while there

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were authors—like Plotinus, for example—who considered that the former as well represented ὕλη. However, Plato himself neither ever used the word ὕλη in its Aristotelian sense, nor operated with the concept of matter that was being denoted by it. He, instead, cognized the physical aspect of the world through the notion of corporeality, or τὸ σωματοειδές. This corporeality, argues Ilievski, is composed of the four Empedoclean elements and is non-distinct from Plato’s ἀνάγκη, or Necessity, which is in the Timaeus synonymously called “the wandering cause”, “the contributing cause”, etc. Therefore, the true analogue of “matter” in Plato’s cosmology is the said ἀνάγκη. The χώρα, on the other hand, needs to be disassociated from Platonic materiality, because it is essentially incorporeal. Its nature is to be recipient, or receptacle, of both the primordial corporeality (i.e., ἀνάγκη) and of the completed cosmos. The χώρα is that in which the creation takes place, albeit not as empty space, but as a very peculiar type of spatial substrate. This chapter, thus, offers a contrasting view of ἀνάγκη and ὑποδοχή with respect to the previous one.

2 Time and Astronomy in Plato’s Timaeus Daniel Vázquez

1 Introduction In this chapter, I argue that “time” (χρόνος) for Timaeus is an observable astronomical event, like an eclipse, a meteor shower, or a comet flyby.1 Except that unlike these events, Timaean time is not a transient but a constant, never-ending, and always perceptible phenomenon. It is the unified event comprised of the movements of the sun, the moon and the planets visible to the naked eye.2  Especially if we read Timaeus’ cosmology as a literal description of facts—as I think we have good reasons to do. See Vázquez (2022a). See also Vázquez (2022b) for my general approach to study Plato’s Timaeus. The conception of Timaean time I defend here also applies to some less literal readings of Timaeus, but I would not spend much effort showing that this is the case. 2  I use the word event in a non-technical sense following the way we commonly talk about astronomical occurrences. Not much else should be read into it. 1

D. Vázquez (*) Mary Immaculate College, Limerick, Ireland e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 V. Ilievski et al. (eds.), Plato on Time and the World, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-28198-3_2

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Let me explain this with an analogy. Think of a live performance of Swan Lake. It cannot be identified with its dancers, choreography or any property that supervenes on the dance moves. In the same way, for Timaeus, time refers to the coordinated celestial movements. Timaeus himself compares the planets’ movements with choral dances (χορεῖαι) at Ti. 40c3–4. As such, it is not a celestial clock, the type of movements involved, or an epiphenomenon of those movements.3 Neither can it be understood as simple duration, absolute time, an intuition, a number4 or any other formal or metaphysical entity (e.g., a dimension).5 Instead, it is described as a complex event of great consequence. The demiurge’s celestial parade has a double function. The main aim of time consists of standing as a moving image of eternity.6 In other words, time imitates the mode of existence of the demiurge’s ideal model, which holds completely outside of the realm of change and succession of events.7 But how, you may ask, could an astronomical event imitate something like that? There is no metaphor here. Time imitates this eternity through the uniformity of its movements, its unity in multiplicity, and its never-­ ending duration. This makes time as eternal as something created and moving can be. Once created, time is eternal in the sense that once it has started it goes on infinitely (i.e., sempiternity a parte post). But time has another important function. The demiurge designed it to provide (visually abled) humans with a permanent exemplar of the  See, for example, Guthrie (1978, pp. 299–300), Mohr (1985, p. 54, p. 72), and Zeyl (2000, pp. xlii–xliv). My problem with the analogy of the celestial clock is that Timaean time is not an object and its function as a standard to take measures is secondary. First and foremost it is an astronomical event. For a similar view to mine, see Araújo (2022). Although I agree with Araújo’s conclusion, I offer an independent and more detailed argument. After I drafted the first version of this chapter and developed the main argument, I have learnt that Lorenzo Lazzarini’s doctoral dissertation also argues that time in Timaeus is “best conceived of as a cosmic phenomenon” (2019, p. 13). His strategy, however, focuses and depends on an elaborate reinterpretation of αἰών. Although I am sympathetic with his approach and I agree with him on many points, this chapter offers an argument that does not require such a reinterpretation. 4  See Brague (1982), Sallis (1999) and Johansen (2004, p. 58). 5  See non-literal interpretations of Timaeus, for example, Taylor (1928), Cornford (1935b), Cherniss (1944), Tarán (1971), Brisson (1998), and Fronterotta (2003). If I am right, it also implies that Plato, in Timaeus at least, is not a Platonist with respect to time. 6  But against this reading, see Brague (1982) and Sallis (1999). For a defense of the traditional interpretation, see Ilievski (2015). 7  But for other possible readings of the eternity of the forms, see Whittaker (1968). 3

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intelligent activity they should aspire to perform. In Timaeus’ cosmos, the gods in the sky are permanently leading by example.8 We just have to look up and study the lives of the celestial divinities to invent mathematics, discover the divine gift of philosophy and find the path to answer the perennial question, how should I live. Put differently, moral theory and the path to virtue begin with the admiration and study of time, understood as the coordinated movements of the moral exemplars in the sky.9 This conception of time may strike us as completely foreign. We are more used to think about time as an independent container, a series of relations or a physical quantity. But the textual evidence cannot be clearer. Plato’s Timaeus explicitly identifies time with the movements of the planets and explains how their orbits make the perfect year (Ti. 38c3–39e2).10 This identification also follows from the basic principles Timaeus set at the beginning of his speech (Ti. 27d5–28b2, 31b4–6), and makes justice to its advertised definition, parts, aspects, and epistemological function. Moreover, time understood as an astronomical event connects with and underlies more colloquial uses of the term (for example, when talking about how long a task takes or to refer to the standards to measure those lengths). What happens is that, for Timaeus, these other senses of time are derivative. It is crucial to understand that time is an observational event with the peculiarity that it prompts us to do mathematical calculations and wonder about the regularities and complexities of its movements. The rest of the paper is divided into three parts. First, I elaborate on the main argument that time in Timaeus is an astronomical event. Then, I  This is also true in other dialogues like Republic, Laws, Theaetetus and, if authentic, Epinomis.  See Ti. 46e7–c4. For a contemporary defence of the idea that moral theory begins with analysing the phenomenon of admiring exemplars, see Zagzebski (2017). 10  Many interpreters assume this identification must be read non-literally as a metaphor or a figure of speech. Ilievski (2015, p. 19), for example, argues that “Plato is not using precise philosophical language, but a figure of speech, like when one says ‘I’m running out of time’, pointing to his or her hand watch. Neither Plato nor our speaker believe that the planets (which comprise the celestial clock) or the hand-watch are identifiable with time –they just use a convenient and elegant way to express certain ideas. Had Plato seriously believed that the movements of Venus, Mercury, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn (besides the Sun and the Moon) are really time, he would have been a proponent of a multiple time-system theory, since the ‘wanderings’ of all these planets are diverse, and thus each of them would produce a different time.” In what follows, I argue against this view by showing that the wanderings are a unified astronomical event, and thus, that there are not enough reasons to read the identification non-literally. 8 9

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show how exactly this interpretation fits with Timaeus’ claims about the parts, aspects, and definition of time. Finally, I offer some concluding remarks.

2 The Ontology of Time: Time Is an Astronomical Event The argument that time is an astronomical event is quite simple and can be outlined as follows. First, Timaeus claims that (1) time is created. And he thinks that (2) if something is created, it is observable. (3) Thus, time is observable (from 1 & 2). Now, we are also told that (4) time is the movements of the sun, the moon, and the planets. And (5) these movements constitute a unified, ongoing and never-ending event. (6) From this follows that time is a unified, ongoing and never-ending event (from 4 & 5). The overall conclusion, then, is that (7) time is an observable, unified, ongoing, and never-ending event (from 3 & 6). Let me point to the textual evidence and explain the argument in more detail. As I have shown in Vázquez (2022a), the demiurge creates time.11 At Timaeus 38b6, for example, Timaeus explicitly claims: “Time, then, came to be together with the heavens” (Χρόνος δ’ οὖν μετ’ οὐρανοῦ γέγονεν). This means that time, as conceived by Timaeus, is not a fundamental feature of the perceptible realm.12 What is fundamental, instead, is the irreversible succession of events and the basic relations of anteriority, posteriority, and simultaneity. We find these basic features even in the description of the precosmic stage of the perceptible realm. But although these features allow for sequential ordering, relative comparisons, and measurements,13 they do not meet Timaeus’ definition of time. Among other things, because they offer no regularity that can serve as the basis for a standard to measure the duration of events. When the demiurge

 Timaeus uses the verb ποιέω (to produce, to create) twice at Ti. 37d5–7.  Time is also distinct from the heavens. On this, I agree with the arguments offered in Ilievski (2015). 13  See Mohr (1985). 11 12

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creates time, it presupposes but is not identified with the mere succession of events and its basic relations.14 Now, go back to the beginning of Timaeus’ speech. There, Timaeus makes a basic ontological distinction between “that which always is but has not come to be” (τὸ ὂν ἀεί, γένεσιν δὲ οὐκ ἔχον) and “that which comes to be but never is” (τὸ γιγνόμενον μὲν ἀεί, ὂν δὲ οὐδέποτε).15 The former kind is unchanging and can be grasped by the intellect through arguments. In contrast, the latter undergoes change, generation and destruction, and has to have a cause. We can form an opinion of it thanks to sense-perception alone (Ti. 28a1–6).16 Timaeus expands on the last point at Ti. 31b4–6: “Now that which comes to be must be of a corporeal nature and be both visible and tangible. But nothing could ever become visible without fire, nor tangible without something solid, nor solid without earth.”17 According to this, time must belong to the second kind. It came to be but never really is. The demiurge is responsible for its generation. At various points, Timaeus describes time as movements, changes of location. And although time goes on infinitely, the demiurge could in principle destroy it (Ti. 38b6–7).18 Since time has come to be, it must have a  See Vázquez (2022a, pp. 123–124). Someone might object that if time is an event, then Timaeus has given us a circular account because events presuppose time. But that is not the case. Events may presuppose our modern conception of time, but not the specific non-fundamental version offered by Timaeus. 15  Ti. 27d6–28a1. This distinction is not exhaustive. Later, Timaeus adds a third kind, the receptacle (Ti. 48e–49a). But since the receptacle is one of a kind, its addition does not affect my argument. 16  The Greek γένεσιν and its cognates can cover two different meanings: to come into existence or to come to be something (i.e., changing). Timaeus seems to include both meanings in his use of τὸ γιγνόμενον. See Ti. 28a3–4. Given that Timaeus does not talk about a form of time, but of eternity, it seems that time must be either created, always changing, or both. In all these cases, time must be perceptible. 17  Σωματοειδὲς δὲ δὴ καὶ ὁρατὸν ἁπτόν τε δεῖ τὸ γενόμενον εἶναι, χωρισθὲν δὲ πυρὸς οὐδὲν ἄν ποτε ὁρατὸν γένοιτο, οὐδὲ ἁπτὸν ἄνευ τινὸς στερεοῦ, στερεὸν δὲ οὐκ ἄνευ γῆς· Transl. by Zeyl (2000) with modifications. Readers of Timaeus will point out that souls seem to be a possible exception to this, given that they are created, yet not visible. See Ti. 34b–36b, 41d–42c. It might be tempting to use this as an objection to my argument. But at Ti. 35a, Timaeus explains that souls are neither unchanging nor physical but a third kind of substance, something he never claims about time. On the contrary, all the textual evidence suggests that, unlike souls, time can be perceived. But for a discussion on the creation of the soul in Ti., see Marongiu in this volume. 18  Although he will not destroy it. See Ti. 41b. 14

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corporeal nature, which means that we can grasp it by the aid of sense-­ perception alone. We may not be able to perceive it through touch because it is an event happening in the sky, but we can certainly see time because it has a corporeal nature. Humans can see day-and-night, months and years (Ti. 47a4–5). We see the fire of the heavenly bodies move across the sky.19 Timaeus explains that the demiurge “brought into being the sun, the moon and five other stars [i.e., Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn], for the begetting of time. These are called ‘wanderers’, and they came to be to define and stand guard over the numbers of time.”20 I take it that setting limits and stand guard over its numbers is what generates time. Just like the ballerinas need to perform each of the movements in good form and in the right order to produce Swan Lake. Although the demiurge is the mastermind behind the creation of time, he uses the help of the celestial bodies to produce it. And without them there would be no time, just as there would be no Swan Lake without ballerinas on the stage.21 The celestial bodies are required entities for the generation of time.22 The text makes clear that time is not the celestial bodies themselves but their movements. In Plato’s geocentric model, the motions of the sun produce days and years. Similarly, the movements of the moon produce the month. I will come back to these parts of time in the next section. But for now, notice how Timaeus includes the role of the movements of the planets: As for the periods of the other bodies, all but a scattered few have failed to take any note of them. Nobody has given them names or investigated their  For discussion on how this happens and if there is an error in Timaeus account of vision, see Araújo (2022) and Costello (n.d.). I do not think time is the light or fire of the heavenly bodies, as Araújo suggests, just as the colours of the ballerinas performing is not the ballet. 20  Ti. 38c4–6: γεννηθῇ χρόνος, ἥλιος καὶ σελήνη καὶ πέντε ἄλλα ἄστρα, ἐπίκλην ἔχοντα πλανητά, εἰς διορισμὸν καὶ φυλακὴν ἀριθμῶν χρόνου γέγονεν. 21  See συναπεργάζεσθαι χρόνον at Ti. 38e4–5. This means they cooperate, contribute, or work with the demiurge. 22  They are, however, not necessary in a strong sense. The demiurge could have created other different celestial bodies to achieve his goal. 19

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numerical measurements relative to each other. And so, people are all but ignorant of the fact that time really is the wanderings of these bodies, bewilderingly numerous as they are and astonishingly variegated (Ti. 39c5–d2).23

We have no names for the cyclical movements of the planets. These movements are numerous, puzzling, and require further investigation and comparison. But there is no doubt that they, together with the movements of the sun and the moon, constitute time. Notice that while we are used to thinking that the movement of the celestial bodies helped the ancients to measure time, Timaeus’ claims, instead, that those very movements are time, which allows, among other things, to count, understand and measure the duration of other events.24 Despite their variety, Timaeus sees these celestial movements as constituting an ongoing and unified event. There are at least three reasons for that. Firstly, they are clearly distinguished from other astronomical events. Secondly, Timaeus thinks that these movements produce a great uniform cycle. Finally, and perhaps more importantly, these movements are a collective task that the demiurge has given to the gods in heaven. Remember that for a naked-eye observer, stars appear to move together as if they were fixed in the celestial vault. In contrast, the sun, the moon and the planets follow different, more puzzling trajectories.25 Their paths describe many loops and each of them has different velocity. But they all move through the zodiac constellations close to the sun’s apparent path (the ecliptic). As a whole, these celestial bodies also undergo a regular, if more complex, cycle. This makes their movements look like a unified procession or a coordinated dance clearly distinguishable from the fixed stars and other astronomical events (see Ti. 40c3–4). This offers the  τῶν δ’ ἄλλων τὰς περιόδους οὐκ ἐννενοηκότες ἄνθρωποι, πλὴν ὀλίγοι τῶν πολλῶν, οὔτε ὀνομάζουσιν οὔτε πρὸς ἄλληλα συμμετροῦνται σκοποῦντες ἀριθμοῖς, ὥστε ὡς ἔπος εἰπεῖν οὐκ ἴσασιν χρόνον ὄντα τὰς τούτων πλάνας, πλήθει μὲν ἀμηχάνῳ χρωμένας, πεποικιλμένας δὲ θαυμαστῶς. 24  Contra Cornford (1935a, p. 97). 25  These are not the only differences. Unlike stars, planets do not twinkle. Some of them are brighter than the stars and have different colours. In Resp. 10, 616b–617d, Plato describes the colour of Saturn and Mercury as yellow, Venus and Jupiter as very white, and Mars as red. See Gregory (2001, p. 125). 23

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necessary grounds for Timaeus suggestion that the planetary movements also constitute time. They are part of the same observational phenomenon and they should be studied together with the motion of the sun and the moon. Timaeus goes one step further. He suggests that the complex movements of the sun, the moon and the planets conform together a great cycle. At some point, he thinks, these celestial bodies come back to the same relative position. Timaeus calls this the “full year” (τέλεος ἐνιαυτός). It is often translated as the “perfect year” or the “great year” because it would be the greatest unit of time. Timaeus, however, offers no exact length for the full year in other units (what he calls parts) of time. He just claims that it is possible, in principle, to calculate this number, which he calls, accordingly, the “full number of time”. Timaeus introduces these ideas after he recognises that the movements of the planets require more investigation: It is none the less possible, however, to discern that the full [τέλεος] number of time brings to completion the full [τέλεος] year at that moment when the relative speeds of all eight periods have been completed together and, measured by the circle of the Same that moves uniformly, have achieved their consummation.26

Timaeus, an expert in astronomy (Ti. 27a), trusts that the celestial movements follow a cycle and allow for a mathematical explanation. Plato construes this as an educated guess. But this suggestion, although not new, was a bold one. The observed path of the moon and the planets does seem to wander. Their paths sometimes reach non-zodiacal constellations for short periods. Occasionally, the planets seem stationary. Formulating an accurate calendar, determining the precise numerical relation between the solar year and the lunar month, was also an elusive and difficult task. It is well known that Timaeus’ confidence in the existence of a full year contrasts with the discussion of astronomy in Republic VII.  There,  Ti. 39d2–7: ἔστιν δ’ ὅμως οὐδὲν ἧττον κατανοῆσαι δυνατὸν ὡς ὅ γε τέλεος ἀριθμὸς χρόνου τὸν τέλεον ἐνιαυτὸν πληροῖ τότε, ὅταν ἁπασῶν τῶν ὀκτὼ περιόδων τὰ πρὸς ἄλληλα συμπερανθέντα τάχη σχῇ κεφαλὴν τῷ τοῦ ταὐτοῦ καὶ ὁμοίως ἰόντος ἀναμετρηθέντα κύκλῳ. 26

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Socrates doubts that observational astronomy can reach any truth about the celestial movements and proposes, instead, to replace it with “real astronomy”, which turns out to be a purely theoretical study of movement (i.e., general and pure kinematics).27 When he describes the real astronomer, Socrates argues that: He’ll believe that the craftsman of the heavens arranged them [i.e., the motions of the stars] and all that’s in them in the finest way possible for such things. But as for the ratio of night to day, of days to a month, of a month to a year, or of the motions of the stars to any of them or to each other, don’t you think he’ll consider it strange to believe that they’re always the same and never deviate anywhere at all or to try in any sort of way to grasp the truth about them, since they’re connected to body and visible? That’s my opinion anyway, now that I hear it from you.28

Although in Republic the motion of the celestial bodies serves a similar purpose as in Timaeus, Socrates blames their corporeal nature for their deviations and the impossibility to create a calendar. For him, the limitations of observational astronomy invite us to think beyond sense perception. But there is a possible objection to this. Why do fixed stars, which are also visible, never seem to deviate their course? If the corporeality of the planets explains their deviations, we would expect deviations on all celestial bodies. Plato’s Socrates never claimed to be an expert on the heavens. And Plato has good reasons not to make him one.29 But, as I have mentioned, Timaeus is an astronomer. While he gives his speech, Plato makes Socrates just a silent member of the audience. Consider now Laws VII (821b–d). There the Athenian echoes Timaeus’ confidence on the regularity of the planetary movements. At the same time, he recognises that the observational evidence remains insufficient. Most Greeks conceive of the sun, the moon and the planets as bodies with capricious movements. But like Timaeus, the Athenian prescribes  On this view, see Mourelatos (1981). However, see Gregory (2007, pp. 58–60), who translates ὄντως ἀστρονομίας μεταλαμβάνοντες (Resp. 530b8), not as “partaking in real astronomy” but taking ὄντως with μεταλαμβάνοντες he renders it “really partaking in astronomy”, and argues that the passage is about how to teach astronomy, which is distinguished from doing astronomy. 28  Resp. VII, 530a–b. Transl. Grube. 29  See Ap. 18b–c, 19b–c. 27

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more investigation into these motions. He remains confident about the possibility of acquiring confirmation on this subject.30 Now, someone could still doubt that the movements that constitute time hold more than an apparent unity. These bodies belong to the same kind. They move in similar ways. But, why would that mean they coordinate into a single and unified routine? The question seems a valid one and Timaeus’ answer is an argument to the best explanation. Timaeus argues that time is the result of the collective efforts of celestial, intelligent gods who received a specific unified task from the demiurge: “Now when each one of the beings that were to join in producing time had come into the motion suitable to it, and, as bodies bound together with living bonds, they had become living creatures and learnt their appointed task”.31 The demiurge appoints each of these heavenly gods with a specific trajectory. Some follow a larger circle, others a smaller one (Ti. 39a). But they are all part of a single formation in charge of guarding the numbers of time (Ti. 38c4–6). They move in a regular cycle that, at least in principle, people can predict by mathematical calculation. In this way, intelligent life and a common goal explain at once the complexity and the regularity of these movements.32 This brings us full circle to the opening of this paper. According to Timaeus, time is a unified astronomical event. It comprises many coordinated, intelligent, cyclical and never-ending movements. Provided clear skies, people can grasp it with their eyes alone. Yet, as with many other natural phenomena, the fact that we can perceive time does not  See also Epinomis. Here I abstain from using this dialogue since its authenticity is disputed. For the discussion see Tarán (1975), Dillon (2003, pp.  179–93), Altman (2012), and Aronadio et al. (2013). 31  Ti. 38e3–6: ἐπειδὴ δὲ οὖν εἰς τὴν ἑαυτῷ πρέπουσαν ἕκαστον ἀφίκετο φορὰν τῶν ὅσα ἔδει συναπεργάζεσθαι χρόνον, δεσμοῖς τε ἐμψύχοις σώματα δεθέντα ζῷα ἐγεννήθη τό τε προσταχθὲν ἔμαθεν. Here I use Cornford’s translation (Cornford, 1935a, p.  112), modified. Compare with Laws 898. 32  One might wonder whether the movement of the fixed stars is part of time. Zeyl (2000, li), for example, thinks that the fixed stars are time producers. However, I see two objections to this. First, the demiurge creates the fixed stars later and at a different moment than the sun, the moon and the planets. Second, they are said to be adornments and are excluded from other passages that talk about time creation (see, e.g., Ti. 39b2–c5). Finally, their role would be the same as the sun, to produce days-and-nights, so they would be redundant. For the discussion on how time fits in the Demiurge’s overall creation, see Petrucci in this volume. 30

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mean we can fully comprehend it. After all, most people hold erroneous opinions about the visible realm, including the movements of the planets. Timaeus’ proposal requires mathematical confirmation and further inquiry and observations. But Timaeus clearly distinguishes between the event that makes up time (the celestial parade), its basic conditions of possibility (e.g., the irreversible succession of events), its main and auxiliary causes (the demiurge, the sun, the moon and the planets), its structure (a complex ensemble of uniform cycles that people can calculate and measure in relation to each other), and the practical uses we derive from it (e.g., using these movements as standards for measuring the duration of other events).

3 The Parts, Aspects and Definition of Time 3.1 Parts of Time Timaeus claims that time has different parts and two created aspects. At Ti. 37e1–4, we read: “before the heavens came to be, there were no days or nights, no months or years. But now, at the same time as he framed the heavens, he devised their coming to be. These all are parts of time and ‘was’ and ‘will be’ are aspects of time that have come to be”.33 A couple of lines later, Timaeus adds “‘Was’ and ‘will be’ are properly said about the becoming that passes in time, for these two are motions”.34 Notice that the text does not say that there were no instruments to measure time. Timaeus could have easily said that the demiurge created a celestial clock to measure a pre-existent, eternal time. Instead, he literally says that the demiurge created time and its parts. There is little motivation to read this metaphorically unless we want to force an anachronic conception of time into the text.  The Greek reads as follows: ἡμέρας γὰρ καὶ νύκτας καὶ μῆνας καὶ ἐνιαυτούς, οὐκ ὄντας πρὶν οὐρανὸν γενέσθαι, τότε ἅμα ἐκείνῳ συνισταμένῳ τὴν γένεσιν αὐτῶν μηχανᾶται· ταῦτα δὲ πάντα μέρη χρόνου, καὶ τό τ’ ἦν τό τ’ ἔσται χρόνου γεγονότα εἴδη. 34  Ti. 38a1–2: τὸ δὲ ἦν τό τ’ ἔσται περὶ τὴν ἐν χρόνῳ γένεσιν ἰοῦσαν πρέπει λέγεσθαι— κινήσεις γάρ ἐστον. 33

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Parts of time are days-and-nights, months, and years. Each one refers to a complete cycle of a movement of the Sun and the Moon. They are parts in the same sense a pirouette, a tour en l’air and other ballet moves are parts of a performance of Swan Lake. They are the elements in the dancing routine of the celestial bodies. The cycles of the five planets, which have no names, and the full year are also parts of time in this sense. The sun, the moon and the planets have two circular motions. They all rotate around the earth once every day. This movement follows what Timaeus calls the circle of the Same. Since the Sun is the brightest celestial body, when it is up, it illuminates everything, creating the difference between day and night. But each of these celestial bodies has a second circular movement with a different axis. This movement follows the circle of the Different. Their second movement makes them appear each time in slightly different positions. Each celestial body is placed at a different distance from the earth. This means that, for their second movement, they have seven different orbits, which correspond to seven subdivisions of the circle of the Different. Timaeus explains that the bodies in the closest orbits to Earth move more quickly than the others. Although three of them, the sun, Mercury and Venus, move at a similar speed (Ti. 36d). The closest orbit to earth is that of the moon, which completes its cycle with respect to the sun in around 29.5 days (i.e., a synodic month). The sun moves along the second orbit, completing its second movement in a year. Mercury and Venus follow the sun quite closely, whereas Mars, Saturn and Jupiter take longer to complete their cycles. Timaeus explains that the numerical measurement of these unnamed cycles remains to be studied. In this way, Timaeus describes the main function of the sun and the creation of the first parts of time as follows: And so that there might be a clearly visible way to measure their relative slowness and quickness with which35 they move along in their eight revolutions, the god kindled a light in the orbit second from the earth, the light that we now call the Sun. Its chief work would be to shine upon the whole universe and to bestow upon all those living things appropriately endowed  Accepting Archer-Hind’s emendation καθ’ ἅ in b3.

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and taught by the revolution of the Same and the uniform, a share in number. In this way and for these reasons night-and-day, the period of a single circling, the wisest one, came to be. A month has passed when the Moon has completed its own cycle and overtaken the Sun; a year when the Sun has completed its own cycle.36

The eight revolutions mentioned here are the circle of the Same plus the seven orbits that subdivide the circle of the Different. The sun’s daily movement, which depends on the circle of the Same, creates night-and-­ day.37 The recurrent cycle of the sun allows intelligent beings to count, which leads to the invention of number, an idea repeated later (Ti. 47a4–7). Some lines below, Timaeus adds that the earth is also the maker and guardian of day and night: The Earth he devised to be our nurturer, and, because it winds around the axis that stretches throughout the universe, also to be the maker and guardian of day and night. Of the gods that have come to be within the universe, Earth ranks as the foremost, the one with greatest seniority.38

The passage has been widely discussed. Scholars disagree on whether it implies that the earth rotates on its axis or not. If it moves, this cannot be a rotation that follows the circle of the Same. That would mean that the earth moves together with the daily rotation of the heavenly bodies, which would make the daily revolution of the celestial bodies imperceptible.39 There is also no basis to think that the earth moves in rectilinear  Ti. 39b2–c5: ἵνα δ’ εἴη μέτρον ἐναργές τι πρὸς ἄλληλα βραδυτῆτι καὶ τάχει καθ’ ἅ περὶ τὰς ὀκτὼ φορὰς πορεύοιτο, φῶς ὁ θεὸς ἀνῆψεν ἐν τῇ πρὸς γῆν δευτέρᾳ τῶν περιόδων, ὃ δὴ νῦν κεκλήκαμεν ἥλιον, ἵνα ὅτι μάλιστα εἰς ἅπαντα φαίνοι τὸν οὐρανὸν μετάσχοι τε ἀριθμοῦ τὰ ζῷα ὅσοις ἦν προσῆκον, μαθόντα παρὰ τῆς ταὐτοῦ καὶ ὁμοίου περιφορᾶς. νὺξ μὲν οὖν ἡμέρα τε γέγονεν οὕτως καὶ διὰ ταῦτα, ἡ τῆς μιᾶς καὶ φρονιμωτάτης κυκλήσεως περίοδος· μεὶς δὲ ἐπειδὰν σελήνη περιελθοῦσα τὸν ἑαυτῆς κύκλον ἥλιον ἐπικαταλάβῃ, ἐνιαυτὸς δὲ ὁπόταν ἥλιος τὸν ἑαυτοῦ περιέλθῃ κύκλον. 37  Again, this cannot be a sidereal day, contra Zeyl (2000, p. xlviii). The point of reference is the sun; the fixed stars, which are needed to count sidereal days, have not been created yet. 38  Ti. 40b8–c3: γῆν δὲ τροφὸν μὲν ἡμετέραν, ἰλλομένην δὲ τὴν περὶ τὸν διὰ παντὸς πόλον τεταμένον, φύλακα καὶ δημιουργὸν νυκτός τε καὶ ἡμέρας ἐμηχανήσατο, πρώτην καὶ πρεσβυτάτην θεῶν ὅσοι ἐντὸς οὐρανοῦ γεγόνασιν. 39  Contra Cornford (1935a, pp. 130ff.). 36

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movements or around the centre of the universe. However, there are a couple of ways it could be moving without cancelling the observed movements in the sky. Gregory (2008, 134) offers some options: If the earth’s own rotation is equal and opposite to that of the cosmos, then the earth would stand still. There are other possibilities here. The cosmos might have an absolute rotation of less than once a day, with the earth rotating in the opposite sense, giving a relative rotation of once a day between them. Similarly, the cosmos might have an absolute rotation of more than once a day and the earth a smaller rate of rotation in the same sense, again giving a relative rotation of once a day between them.

In contrast, some argue that the passage does not imply any rotation of the earth. This suggestion depends on reading εἰλλομένην (“packed around”) instead of ἰλλομένην (“winding around”) in 40b8.40 I shall not discuss which of these readings is the correct one. For my purposes, suffice to say that regardless of the reading one prefers, the passage offers no real reason to worry that the earth cancels the perceived movements of the celestial bodies. On the contrary, the earth, either by staying still or by rotating in a certain way, stays still in relation to the other celestial bodies. But the reference to the earth as a guardian and maker of day and night is surprising. Shall we consider it in the list of bodies whose movement is responsible for the production of time? Its position seems as relevant as the movements of the other celestial bodies. So, if time is an astronomical event, it is an event observable from a specific location, namely the surface of the Earth. But perhaps it is more than that. We live on one of the bodies whose movement produces time. So, if time is a celestial parade, we observe it not from the sidelines but from one of the moving vehicles. In a way, we are part of and inside the procession. This suggests a new way of thinking about being inside of time.

 See Dicks (1970, pp. 132–37).

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3.2 Aspects of Time One can divide an event in other ways. When a ballet company performs Swan Lake, they generally present it in four acts, sometimes accompanied by a prologue. These are parts in a different sense than when we talk about ballet moves. They are ordered sections that stand in a specific sequence. If someone is watching Swan Lake, at any point, we can situate which act is the person watching. We know which acts have already occurred and which ones will happen later. In Timaeus, time could be divided similarly too. The main difference is that the dancing of the sun, moon and the planets is playing on an unending loop. Timaeus, of course, does not divide time into different acts. But since humans count the cycles of the sun and the moon, they can refer to previous and later cycles with respect to their current position or any other specified event (e.g., the Olympic games, or a yearly magistracy). But Timaeus does not call these divisions parts of time. As mentioned above, he distinguishes two created aspects of time. Let me quote the relevant passage again: “These [i.e., days and nights, months and years] all are parts of time and ‘was’ and ‘will be’ are aspects of time that have come to be […] ‘Was’ and ‘will be’ are properly said about the becoming that passes in time, for these two are motions”.41 If time is an astronomical event, what would it mean to say that “was” and “will be” are two aspects of it? A way to think about it is as tenses properly predicated of the changes that occur in the position of the sun, the moon and the planets.42 The sun was here and will be over there later. These aspects could apply to the parts of time too. Some of the cycles of the sun, the moon and the planets have already occurred, others are still to come. If time is an event that encompasses all the movements of the sun, the moon and the planets, then some of these motions already happened and others will happen later. In this view, other uses of “was” and “will be” are either improper or derivate from a reference to the movements and positions in the sky.

41 42

 Ti. 37e1–4, 38a1–2. Compare with Giovannetti in this volume.  That Timaeus uses time in this sense is clear at Ti. 38a7–8.

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Notice that Timaeus does not call “is” (τὸ ὄν) an aspect of time. This comes as no surprise. It goes back to the original distinction between “that which always is but has not come to be” and “that which comes to be but never is”. The present participle τὸ ὄν (lit. “being”) does not properly apply to created things or change. This includes events like time, which are constituted by different changes of location. The celestial movements started and are never fully in the now because they extend over the “was” and/or the “will be”. The current celestial cycles, however, are occurring, happening or coming to be. So, you may still ask, why Timaeus did not include a present tense of these verbs in his aspects of time? The simplest answer to this puzzle is to notice that Timaeus does not say that “was” and “will be” are the only created aspects of time. He mentions them to argue that we should not use them to refer to changeless and motionless beings. This does not exclude the possibility of a third aspect of time which uses the present tense and refers to an ongoing cycle. This is suggested later when Timaeus discusses the merits of divination and has no problem distinguishing past, future and present events: There’s good evidence that divination was a gift from the gods to compensate for human stupidity. For true, inspired divination is out of the question for anyone who has his wits about him; sleep or illness has to have fettered and weakened his intellect, or he has to be possessed, in an altered state of consciousness. However, he needs to be in command of his intelligence not only to recall and reflect upon the messages conveyed to him by divination or possession, whether he was asleep or awake at the time, but also to subject to rational analysis all the visions that appear to him, and to decide in what sense and for whom they signify some future, past, or present (μέλλοντος ἢ παρελθόντος ἢ παρόντος) trouble or benefit.43

There is another interesting thing about Timaeus’ description of the aspects of time. When the demiurge creates time, he creates, from the beginning, not only the first cycle of the sun, moon and planets, but all of them. Since the celestial bodies play on an unending recurring loop,  Ti. 71e2–a2. Transl. Waterfield in Gregory & Waterfield (2008).

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once they are put in motion, their future cycles have already been created, even if they have not yet happened. In a sense, the demiurge creates the future cycles from the beginning.

3.3 The Definition of Time Consider again Timaeus’ definition of time. Plato writes that time is “a moving image of eternity” and “an eternal image, moving according to number, of eternity remaining in unity” (Ti. 37d5–7). Later, he paraphrases this definition saying that time “imitates eternity and circles according to number” (Ti. 38a7–8).44 This famous definition has startled readers of Plato for millennia. But that is because they often assume an incorporeal or absolute notion of time. If, as I have argued, time is an astronomical event, it means that the coordinated movements of the sun, moon and planets form this moving image. The image is eternal because the movements that constitute it will never stop or change course. In this way, although forever moving, it stays the same. They imitate the eternity of the ideal model because they are as eternal as a created and perceptible phenomenon can ever be.45 Each of the celestial bodies circles the earth in specific, uniform cycles. As shown, they have two types of circular movements. The first one is equal to all of them. They circle the earth every 24 hours. They all circle according to that number. Besides, their second circular movement is different in each case but also respects a regular, calculable number. The way time imitates eternity depends not only on the type of eternity time possesses but also on the eternity it imitates. Timaeus makes this clear from the beginning:

 See also Ti. 39e1–2.  Someone might think that a better alternative was to assign a god in a permanent unmoving post in the sky. However, in the sensible realm, activity might be better than inactivity: “Soc: All right, I’d like to go on now and tell you what I’ve come to feel about the political structure we’ve described. My feelings are like those of a man who gazes upon magnificent looking animals, whether they’re animals in a painting or even actually alive but standing still, and who then finds himself longing to look at them in motion or engaged in some struggle or conflict that seems to show off their distinctive physical qualities” (Ti. 19b). 44 45

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Now when the Father who had begotten the universe observed it set in motion and alive, a thing that had come to be as a shrine for the everlasting gods, he was well pleased, and in his delight he thought of making it more like its model still. So, as the model was itself an everlasting Living Thing, he set himself to bringing this universe to completion in such a way that it, too, would have that character to the extent that was possible. Now it was the Living Thing’s nature to be eternal, but it isn’t possible to bestow eternity fully upon anything that is begotten.46

Timaeus, however, leaves underdetermined what exactly does he mean by this “eternity that remains in unity”. But regardless of how one interprets the eternity of forms and intelligible entities, time as an astronomical event can be said to imitate it. Let me briefly go over the three main alternatives. One is to think that forms and the eternal model of the universe possess everlasting extension over all past, current and future sequences of events. They have literally always existed. Before the creation of the cosmos and time, at present, and in every moment in the future. In this view, these entities are changeless and always the same over the infinite series of events. Their difference with time would be that their everlastingness extends both ways, forwards and backwards. Not only forwards like time.47 Alternatively, it could be that forms and the eternal model exist fully and exclusively in the present. Everything else, in contrast, extends over the past and the future but never fully exists in the present.48 In this picture, time would imitate eternity by virtue of its recurring structure. The movements of the cosmos cannot fully exist in the present, but they repeat in an endless cycle. If the ideal model’s uninterrupted and unchanging presence is the gold standard, the heavenly gods, who cannot do that, come back every morning or every night in a reliable, patterned way.  Ti. 37c6–d4: Ὡς δὲ κινηθὲν αὐτὸ καὶ ζῶν ἐνόησεν τῶν ἀιδίων θεῶν γεγονὸς ἄγαλμα ὁ γεννήσας πατήρ, ἠγάσθη τε καὶ εὐφρανθεὶς ἔτι δὴ μᾶλλον ὅμοιον πρὸς τὸ παράδειγμα ἐπενόησεν ἀπεργάσασθαι. καθάπερ οὖν αὐτὸ τυγχάνει ζῷον ἀίδιον ὄν, καὶ τόδε τὸ πᾶν οὕτως εἰς δύναμιν ἐπεχείρησε τοιοῦτον ἀποτελεῖν. ἡ μὲν οὖν τοῦ ζῴου φύσις ἐτύγχανεν οὖσα αἰώνιος, καὶ τοῦτο μὲν δὴ τῷ γεννητῷ παντελῶς προσάπτειν οὐκ ἦν δυνατόν· 47  See Whittaker (1968). 48  See Owen (1966) and Ilievski (2015).

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Finally, the most common way to interpret the eternity of changeless, intelligible entities like forms is to conceive them as completely removed from references to duration, the sequence of events and time.49 The main idea is that with regards to forms it is inappropriate to ask questions like “when is it?” and “how long did it last?”50 Forms and other intelligible objects cannot be placed in a sequence of events at all. They are not before, during or after any other event. If we understand forms in that way, time as an astronomical event can also be said to imitate this eternity by virtue of its structural unity and sempiternity a parte post.

4 Concluding Remarks Raphael Sanzio’s famous fresco The School of Athens depicts a dream team of Greek philosophers, mathematicians and astronomers from different periods surrounded by Roman buildings. The figures in the picture are all discussing, teaching or writing. The two central figures, Plato and Aristotle, are having a conversation while they walk together. They appear framed with an Arch of Triumph and other philosophers surrounding them. The most common interpretation is that Plato’s pointing toward the sky indicates his Theory of Forms. Meanwhile, Aristotle reaches his arm toward the viewer revealing his belief that knowledge comes from experience. This gives the impression that they are talking about epistemology and metaphysics. However, Plato is carrying a copy of the Timaeus. The presence of this dialogue suggests that Plato’s gesture refers to the movements of the celestial bodies and not to the Forms. According to my interpretation, Plato points to time, the moving image of eternity. Since Aristotle is holding a book with the word “Ethics” (the Nicomachean, Eudemian, maybe both?), the topic of conversation cannot be the minutiae about the cycles of the planets and the calculation of  This is often described as atemporal, timeless, durationless or non-durational eternity. I avoid the first two terms because they depend on a sense of time that is absent from Timaeus. I also avoid the term duration, and instead talk about sequences of events, because duration may suggest a phenomenological or psychological element not present in the text. 50  Mohr (1985, p. 68). 49

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their orbits. Instead, they are more plausibly discussing where the path to virtue should begin. Aristotle is pointing to the philosophers that preceded them and their opinions. Plato points instead to the coordinated and regular movements of the moral exemplars in the sky. In Timaeus, this astronomical event, observable to the naked eye, is the gateway to the intellectual life that leads to philosophy and a life worth living. Then, Timaean time might not be a fundamental feature of the cosmos, nor a metaphysical one. But if we read it as identical to the unified and coordinated movements of the sun, the moon, and the planets, there is no mystery about its ontological status. There is no elusive metaphor in its definition as a moving image of eternity either. And yet, time would still play a crucial role in our relationship with the cosmos and the demiurge. More importantly, it explains how Plato’s Timaeus conceives of empirical observation of the celestial bodies as a route to discover mathematics and the realm of unchanging, incorporeal beings.51

References Altman, W.H.F. 2012. Why Plato Wrote Epinomis: Leonardo Tarán and the Thirteenth Book of Plato’s Laws. Polis: The Journal for Ancient Greek and Roman Political Thought 29 (1): 83–107. Araújo, Carolina. 2022. Time and Light in Plato’s Timaeus. In Time and Cosmology in Plato and the Platonic Tradition, ed. Daniel Vázquez and Alberto Ross, 134–155. Leiden & Boston: Brill. Aronadio, Francesco, Mauro Tulli, and Federico M. Petrucci, eds. 2013. [Plato] Epinomis. Bibliopolis. Brague, Rémi. 1982. Du Temps Chez Platon et Aristote: Quatre Études. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. Brisson, Luc. 1998. Le Même et l’autre Dans La Structure Ontologique Du Timée de Platon: Un Commentaire Systématique Du Timée de Platon. 3rd ed. Sankt Augustin: Academia Verlag.

 This research is part of the PROTEUS project that has received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme (Grant agreement No. 758145). 51

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Cherniss, H. 1944. Aristotle’s Criticism of Plato and the Academy (2 Vols.). Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Cornford, Francis M. 1935a. Plato’s Cosmology. The Timaeus of Plato. London: Routledge. (reprinted by Hackett in 1997). ———. 1935b. Plato’s Theory of Knowledge. London: Routledge. Costello, S. (n.d.). Nocturnal Vision in Plato’s Timaeus (manuscript). Dicks, R.D. 1970. Early Greek Astronomy to Aristotle. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Dillon, John. 2003. The Heirs of Plato. A Study of the Old Academy (347–274 BC). New York: Oxford University Press. Fronterotta, Francesco, ed. 2003. Platone, Timeo. Milan: BUR. Gregory, Andrew. 2001. Plato’s Philosophy of Science. London: Bloomsbury. ———. 2007. Ancient Greek Cosmogony. London: Duckworth. Gregory, Andrew, and Robin Waterfield. 2008. Plato: Timaeus and Critias. Oxford World’s Classics. Oxford University Press. Guthrie, W.K.C. 1978. A History of Greek Philosophy, The Later Plato and the Academy. Vol. 5. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ilievski, Viktor. 2015. Eternity and Time in Plato’s Timaeus. Antiquité Vivante 65: 5–22. Johansen, Thomas Kjeller. 2004. Plato’s Natural Philosophy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lazzarini, Lorenzo. 2019. Plato on Time as a Cosmic Phenomenon. University of St Andrews. (Doctoral dissertation). Mohr, Richard D. 1985. The Platonic Cosmology. Leiden: Brill. Mourelatos, Alexander P.D. 1981. Astronomy and Kinematics in Plato’s Project of Rationalist Explanation. Studies in History and Philosophy of Science 12 (1): 1–32. Owen, G.E.L. 1966. Plato and Parmenides on the Timeless Present. The Monist 50: 317–340. Sallis, John. 1999. Chorology. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Tarán, Leonardo. 1971. The Creation Myth in Plato’s Timaeus. In Essays in Ancient Greek philosophy I, ed. J.P. Anton and G.L. Kustas, 372–406. Albany, NY: SUNY Press. ———. 1975. Academica: Plato, Philip of Opus and the Pseudo-Platonic Epinomis. Glückstadt: American Philosophical Society. Taylor, A.E. 1928. A Commentary on Plato’s Timaeus. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

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Vázquez, Daniel. 2022a. Before the Creation of Time in Plato’s Timaeus. In Time and Cosmology in Plato and the Platonic Tradition, ed. Daniel Vázquez and Alberto Ross, 111–133. Leiden & Boston: Brill. ———. 2022b. Introduction: Time and the Cosmos in Plato and the Platonic Tradition. In Time and Cosmology in Plato and the Platonic Tradition, ed. Daniel Vázquez and Alberto Ross, 1–21. Leiden & Boston: Brill. Whittaker, John. 1968. The ‘Eternity’ of the Platonic Forms. Phroensis 13 (2): 131–144. Zagzebski, Linda Trinkaus. 2017. Exemplarist Moral Theory. New York: Oxford University Press. Zeyl, Donald J. 2000. Plato: Timaeus. Indianapolis: Hackett.

3 The Instant (ἐξαίφνης) in Plato’s Parmenides 155e4–157b5 Luc Brisson

I would like to show that Parmenides, when referring to the instant (ἐξαίφνης) in Plato’s Parmenides 155e4–157b5, adopts Zeno’s assumption of the divisibility of time, which Aristotle rejects by appealing to the potential infinite, a philosophical position already adopted by Plato in the Timaeus. To reach this conclusion, however, one must re-situate oneself within the context of an interpretation of the second part of the Parmenides which, until today, I am the only one to propose.

L. Brisson (*) Centre Jean Pépin (CNRS-ENS, PSL), Paris, France e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 V. Ilievski et al. (eds.), Plato on Time and the World, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-28198-3_3

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1 The First Part of the Parmenides Parmenides, an old man, and Zeno, who is much younger, are in Athens for the Great Panathenaea.1 Socrates, who is also young at the time, comes to hear Zeno read his treatise. Zeno tries to show that, if beings were many, contradictions would appear everywhere. When Zeno is done with his reading (127d–128e), Socrates proposes the hypothesis of the intelligible Forms as a solution. The contradictory characteristics in sensible beings can be easily explained, he argues, by the theory of participation in different intelligible Forms (128e–130a). Parmenides takes the floor in defence of Zeno, who maintains his master’s hypothesis: “being is one”. He makes a series of objections against the theory of participation. A sensible being cannot contain an intelligible Form as a whole, or as a part (131c–e). Moreover, participation triggers an indefinite regress (131e–132c). These objections cannot be met by claiming that the intelligible Form is a thought (132b–c), or a paradigm (132c–133a). Participation is the main problem, because it is impossible to separate intelligible Forms from sensible beings (133a–134e). Since Socrates claims that intelligible Forms are necessary for thinking and speaking, Parmenides (134e–135c), agreeing with him, proposes to train him to fight successfully for maintaining the existence of the intelligible Forms, by giving him the example of an exercise in dialectics in the second part of the dialogue.

2 The Second Part of Plato’s Parmenides My interpretation of the second part of the dialogue presupposes admission of the following four points. 1) Only a single hypothesis—that of Parmenides (εἴτε ἕν ἐστιν), which is defended by Zeno (128a–b)—is taken under consideration. 2) The examination of the consequences of this hypothesis, whether accepted or rejected, gives rise to eight series of deductions.2 3) Parmenides 155e–157b needs to be understood as a  In August 450, according to Nails (2022, p. 308).  See Brisson (2018).

1 2

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c­ orollary to the second series of deductions.3 4) Since all the series of deductions deal with categories of the sensible world,4 we must understand that Parmenides’ hypothesis must be read as “if it is one”, where ἐστιν is predicative and not existential, and has the sensible world as its subject. According to this interpretation, only one hypothesis is involved, that of Zeno, which is also that of Parmenides: If you like, said Parmenides, take as an example this hypothesis that Zeno entertained: if there are many things (εἰ πολλά ἐστι), what must the consequences be both for these many things themselves in relation to themselves and in relation to the one, and for the one in relation to itself and in relation to the many things? And in turn on the hypothesis that there are not many things, you must again examine what the consequences will be both for the one and for the many in relation to themselves and in relation to each other. (Prm. 136a–b, transl. Gill and Ryan)

Because this hypothesis is taken not only as an affirmation but also as a negation with regard to what is the one and what are the other things, it results in eight series of deductions divided into two sets, which form the two sub-sections making up the second part of the Parmenides. For the sake of clarity and in order to avoid any ambiguity, I will refer to eight “series of deductions” rather than to eight “hypotheses”, as is usual.5 Hence this table: A) Parmenides’s hypothesis is affirmed. And from this affirmed hypothesis, positive and negative consequences are drawn for the one and for the other things. 1) Positive consequences   – for the one: II a) 142b–155e b) 155e–157b   – and for the other things: III 157b–159a 2) Negative consequences   – for the one: I 137c–142a   – and for the other things: IV 159b–160b  See Brisson and Décarie (1987); Berti (1992); Meinwald (1991, 2014); Cornford (1939).  See Brisson (2002). 5  For different divisions of the second part of the Parmenides, see Saffrey and Westernik (1968) (pp. LXXX–LXXXIX). 3 4

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B) Parmenides’s hypothesis is negated And from this negated hypothesis, positive and negative consequences are drawn for the one and for the other things.   1) Positive consequences    – for the one: V 160b–163b    – and for the other things: VII 164b–165e   2) Negative consequences    – for the one: VI 163b–164b    – and for the other things: VIII 165e–166c

Thus, we have eight series of deductions involving four pairs, each of which has a positive and a negative branch. If we accept this distribution, the passage from 160b1–4 will not be a part of any series of deductions, but a summary of what has just been deduced in the series I to IV. As I tried to show in my translation, the eight series of deductions in the second part of Plato’s Parmenides deal with the sensible world, that is, with the universe, as it is obvious from the structure of the second series of deductions, which is the most detailed. one/many  whole/parts   limited/unlimited    number: one/many    figure: straight/circular    located in itself/in something else     in contact/non in contact    at rest/in movement  identity/difference   similar/dissimilar (quality)   equal/inequal    in space    in time  existence/non-existence     knowledge/impossibility of knowledge     language/impossibility of language

Each of the sections deals with a pair of categories in the sensible world.

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This is the first reason why, even though the formula τὸ πᾶν does not appear in the second part of the Parmenides, I claim that this second part has the world or the universe as its object.6 The second reason is Plato’s statement in the Sophist on the Eleatic school: “And our Eleatic tribe, starting with Xenophanes and even people before him, tells us their myth on the assumption that what they call ‘all things’ are just one” (ὡς ἑνὸς ὄντος τῶν πάντων καλουμένων, Soph. 242d4–6, transl. N. P. White). Already in Antiquity, Parmenides was understood in that way; in Plotinus and Proclus the historical Parmenides was said to deal with the one which is (περὶ τὸ ἓν ὂν διατρίβων), as we shall see. In so doing, I question, perhaps for the first time since Proclus, whether τὸ ἓν is the subject of ἐστιν. We will see how Proclus is troubled by taking τὸ ἓν and not τὸ πᾶν as the subject of ἐστιν, thus making ἓν the predicate of τὸ πᾶν.

3 The Neoplatonic One and Parmenides’ Being Proclus wants to make clear that the One in Plato’s Parmenides is not the One itself, that is, the intelligible One, but the One beyond being, the cause of everything else: The actual method of Parmenides takes up one hypothesis and builds the whole argument on that, not an hypothesis which would appear to be one among a multitude of others,7 but one which comprehends all other hypotheses and is one prior to the many; for it reveals the total range of being and the whole order of things both intelligible and sensible, and furthermore their henads, and the single ineffable henad which is the source of all of them. For the One is the cause of all things and from it he will generate all things as he proceeds (In Prm. V.1032.13–22, transl. Morrow and Dillon).

 See the discussion between O’Brien (2005) and Brisson (2005).  This distinction between the One before multiplicity and in multiplicity can be found in In Prm. I.711.26–30 and Elem. Theol., prop. 24. 6 7

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In other words, the series of deductions deal with a description not only of the One itself, but of all the realities deriving from the One, outlined in In Prm. I.641.1–14. That said, Proclus has to explain why Parmenides’ Poem is about being and not about the One beyond being as it is the case with the Republic: But perhaps someone might raise this very question, how Parmenides, who dealt with the one which is (περὶ τὸ ἓν ὂν διατρίβων),8 can have called the One “his own hypothesis” (ἑαυτοῦ κέκληκεν ὑπόθεσιν τὸ ἕν) and say that he will take his start from this beginning proper to himself. Before this some authorities9 have indeed declared that, whereas Parmenides did in fact concern himself entirely with being, Plato when he discovered that the One was superior to being and to all existence, by way of correcting Parmenides, presents him as taking his start from the One. (In Prm. V.1032.23–32) … Parmenides is being Platonic, then, in calling his hypothesis one which postulates the One (Resp. VI.509b9). For what Plato has added to Parmenides’ doctrine, they say, he has attributed to Parmenides himself. Those who maintain this would say that there is no need to be surprised if Parmenides does not seem to say anything in his poetry about the One itself (it is after all ineffable), inasmuch as he is defending his own poetry which traces the generation of all existent things from being; but in his unwritten discourses to Zeno he gave some indications on that subject, inasmuch as that is possible in words. He is justified, then, in calling his own hypothesis the exposition of the One (In Prm. V.1033.6–18).

Because he believes that Parmenides was speaking under divine inspiration like Plato, Proclus refuses to distinguish between a Parmenides before Plato, and a Parmenides in Plato. If Parmenides doesn’t speak about the One beyond being in his Poem, this is because this One is ineffable; but in unwritten conversations, he would have given some indications about this One to Zeno. This clever rhetorical trick does not solve the problem raised by Plotinus. In Enn. V.1 [10], Plotinus makes a distinction between Parmenides before Plato and Parmenides in Plato. Before Plato, Parmenides  As In Prm. I.620.18–21–22; 636.3–4; 638.18–19; 639.9–11; 710.32–33; 719.32–33; II.72.31–722, 24; as well as in Theol. Plat. I.9, p. 35, 3–4 and I.10, p. 45, 1–2. 9  On Plotinus, see below. 8

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identified Being and Intellect and placed Being not among things perceived by the senses (V.1.8.14–23), while as depicted in Plato, Parmenides is more accurate: “But Parmenides in Plato speaks more accurately and distinguishes from each other the first One (Prm. 137c4), which is more properly called One, and the second which he calls One-Many (Prm.144e5), and the third, One and Many (Prm.155e5). In this way he too agrees with the doctrine of the three natures” (V.1.8.23–27, transl. Armstrong, modified). These are the objects of the three Plotinus’ “hypostases”: the One beyond Being, the Intellect-Intelligible, that is, Being, and the Soul. This interpretation is anachronistic. Plotinus, and then Proclus find themselves in difficult when they come to distinguishing the historical Parmenides from Plato’s Parmenides. In the second part of the dialogue, Parmenides does not carry out a distinction within being, sensible and intelligible, as does Plato. For Parmenides, it is the same being that thought perceives as, in particular, one and immobile, and that the senses perceive as multiple and constantly changing. This being can only be the totality of the things that surround us, and which enable us to describe the categories of the sensible world evoked in the series of deductions. For this reason, I understand the hypothesis εἰ ἕν ἐστιν as meaning “if the universe is one”, because I take the subject of ἐστιν to be τὸ πᾶν (the universe), which is equivalent to being (τὸ ὄν), and not the one (ἕν), which must therefore be considered as an attribute. This reading is also supported by a solid point of grammar: attributes lack a definite article in ancient Greek. Nor does this reading conflict with the expression τὸ ἕν (the one or this one), which frequently reappears in the second half of the Parmenides. But how can this assumption benefit Socrates in solving the problem of participation in the form by the sensible? This amounts to asking whether the question raised by Parmenides in the first part of the dialogue—how can one account for the participation of the sensible in the intelligible?—can be related to the exercise to which Parmenides subjects Socrates in the second part. It should be noted that the second part of the Parmenides is itself divided into two. If we accept the hypothesis defended by Parmenides “if the universe is one,” we find ourselves in the realm of the intellect, where there can be no participation, since no category of the

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sensible world is admitted. However, if we remain in the domain of sensation by denying the hypothesis “if it is one,” we find ourselves obliged to admit opposites, for we must take all the categories of the sensible world into account. Now, one notes that this division into two parts corresponds precisely to the division into two parts of what remains to us of the Poem. Until fragment VIII, we are in the realm of the intellect, which rejects contrariety, whereas in what follows, it is the opinion of mortals, in which the opposition by light and night appears, that is evoked. Hence the following two consequences: 1) Parmenides gives Socrates the argumentative weapons to defend the doctrine of the intelligible forms, but in a Parmenidean and Zenonian context, in which the notion of intelligible forms does not intervene. 2) The Parmenides and Zeno who intervene in the Parmenides are not real characters, any more than the young Socrates is: they are historical reconstructions which Plato seems to have wanted to be sufficiently plausible so that his readers could recognize themselves in them. But what about Parmenides 155e4–157b5?

4 A Corollary to the Second Series of Deductions Here is the beginning of the passage. The most important question concerning it is to find out what τι δὴ τὸ τρίτον λέγωμεν means. ̶ Let’s speak of it yet a third time (Ἔτι δὴ τὸ τρίτον λέγωμεν). If the one is as we have described it—being both one and many and neither one nor many, and partaking of time (καὶ μετέχον χρόνου)—must it not, because it is one, sometimes partake of being and in turn, because it is not, sometimes not partake in being? ̶ Necessarily (Prm. 155e4–8, transl. Gill-Ryan).

Plotinus and other Neoplatonists understood that this was a third series of deductions corresponding to the realm of soul. But that would spoil the symmetrical order of Parmenides’ exercise. Therefore, in agreement with Cornford, I would like to prove that

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155e4–157b5 is but a corollary to the third series of deductions. Here is a description of the three steps of the argument in this series of deductions. First step: Parmenides’ hypothesis is reworded (ἓν εἰ ἔστιν, 142b3) and then explained (142b6–c7). Second step: From the starting hypothesis (ἓν εἰ ἔστιν, 142c8) ten consequences are deduced (142c8–155e3). Third step: The initial hypothesis is repeated (ἓν εἰ ἔστιν, 155e4), and the following passage summarizes the consequences of the second series of deductions in a temporal context. As said before, for the first time, the oppositions listed in the deductions are situated in a temporal context: –– When it partakes, can it be that time not partake, or partake when it doesn’t? –– It cannot. –– So it partakes at one time (Ἐν ἄλλῳ ἄρα χρόνῳ μετέχει), and doesn’t partake at another (καὶ ἐν ἄλλῳ οὐ μετέχει), for only in this way could it both partake and not partake of the same thing? –– That’s right. –– Isn’t there, then, a definite time (οὗτος χρόνος), when it gets a share of being and when it parts from it? Or how can it now (τότε μὲν) have and then (τότε δὲ) not have the same thing, if it never (μήποτe) gets and releases it? –– In no way. –– Don’t you in fact call getting a share of being “coming-to-be”? –– I do. –– And parting from being “ceasing-to-be”? –– Most certainly. –– Indeed the one, as it seems, when it gets and releases being, comes to be and ceases to be. –– Necessarily. (Prm. 155e8–156b1, transl. Gill-Ryan)

The first consequence is being in opposition to non-being. Each of these contrasted consequences is situated in time, and more precisely in a period of time (τότε μὲν, τότε δὲ). This means that time is a succession of discrete periods of time. Hence, the question arises of when does coming-to-be (γίγνεσθαι) and ceasing-to-be (ἀπόλλυσθαι), that is changing, occur?

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–– And since it is one and many and comes to be and ceases to be, doesn’t its being many cease to be whenever (ὅταν) it comes to be one, and doesn’t its being one cease to be whenever it comes to be many? –– Certainly. –– Whenever (ὅταν) it comes to be one and many, must it not separate and combine? –– It certainly must. –– Furthermore, whenever (ὅταν) it comes to be like and unlike, must it not be made like and unlike? –– Yes. –– And whenever (ὅταν) it comes to be greater and less and equal, must it not increase and decrease and be made equal? –– Just so. –– And whenever (ὅταν), being in motion, it comes to a rest, and whenever (ὅταν), being at rest, it changes to moving, it must itself, presumably, be in no time at all (οὔτε ἐν χρόνῳ ὄν). –– How is that? –– It won’t be able to undergo being previously (πρότερον) at rest and later (ὕστερον) in motion or being previously (πρότερον) in motion and later (ὕστερον) at rest without changing. –– Obviously not. –– Yet there is no time (Χρόνος δέ γε οὐδεὶς ἔστιν) in which something can, simultaneously (ἅμα), be neither in motion nor at rest. –– Yes, you are quite right. –– Yet surely it also doesn’t change without changing. –– Hardly. (Prm. 156b1–c8, transl. Gill-Ryan)

One can ask the same question for these opposites taken into account in the two previous series of deductions: one and many (156b1–5); like and unlike (156b6–7); greater and less and equal (156b7–c1); motion and rest (156c1–5). Each of these opposites is in a time, before (πρότερον) or after (ὕστερον) each other, because they can’t both be at the same time (ἅμα). There is no time (χρόνος δέ γε οὐδεὶς ἔστιν) when they do change. –– So when does it change? For it does not change while it is at rest or in motion, or while it is in time (οὔτε ἐν χρόνῳ ὄν). –– Yes, you’re quite right.

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–– Is there, then, this odd thing (τὸ ἄτοπον τοῦτο) in which it might be, just when it changes? –– What odd thing? –– The instant (Τὸ ἐξαίφνης). The instant (τὸ γὰρ ἐξαίφνης) seems to signify something such that changing occurs from it to each of two states. For a thing doesn’t change from rest while rest continues, of from motion, while motion continues. Rather, this odd creature, the instant (ἡ ἐξαίφνης αὕτη φύσις ἄτοπος τις), lurks between motion and rest— being in no time at all (ἐν χρόνῳ οὐδενὶ οὖσα)—and to it and from it the moving thing changes to resting, and the resting thing changes to moving. –– It looks that way. (Prm. 156c8–e3, transl. Gill-Ryan)

The answer is the instant, which is in no time at all (ἐν χρόνῳ οὐδενὶ οὖσα), because it is from it and to it that changing occurs. It is very interesting that Parmenides uses the word ἄτοπος, which means “without a place” and metaphorically “odd”. –– And the one, if in fact it both rests and moves, could change to each state—for only in this way could it do both. But in changing, it changes at an instant (μεταβάλλον δ’ ἐξαίφνης μεταβάλλει), and when it changes, it should be in no time at all (ἐν χρόνῳ οὐδενὶ οὖσα), and just then (τότε) it would be neither in motion nor at rest. –– No, it wouldn’t. –– Is it so with the other changes too? Whenever the one changes from being to ceasing-to-be, or from not-being to coming-to-be, isn’t it then between certain states (μεταξύ τινων τότε ) of motion and rest? And then (τότε) it neither is nor is not, and neither comes to be nor ceases to be? –– It seems so, at any rate. (Prm. 156e3–157a4, transl. Gill-Ryan)

The instant (ἐξαίφνης), then, is that in which change occurs between two opposites. This means that it is not in time, which is not continuous, because it is made of discrete periods.10

 See Allen (1983, pp. 264–265).

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5 Aristotle’s Criticism There are only two occurrences of ἐξαίφνης in all of Aristotle’s works, and both appear in the context of a criticism of Parmenides 155e4–157a4. The instant (τὸ δ’ ἐξαίφνης) refers to what has departed from its former condition in a time imperceptible because of its smallness (τὸ ἐν ἀναισθήτῳ χρόνῳ διὰ μικρότητα ἐκστάν); but it is the nature of all change to alter things from their former condition (μεταβολὴ δὲ πᾶσα φύσει ἐκστατικόν). In time all things come into being and pass away (…). It is clear then that it must be in itself, as we said before, the condition of destruction rather than of coming into being (for change, in itself, makes things depart from their former condition), and only incidentally of coming into being, and of being. A sufficient evidence of this is that nothing comes into being without itself moving somehow and acting, but a thing can be destroyed even if it does not move at all. And this is what, as a rule, we chiefly mean by a thing’s being destroyed by time. Still, time does not work even this change; even this sort of change takes place incidentally in time. We have stated, then, that time exists and what it is, and in how many senses we speak of the “now” (τὸ νῦν),11 and what “at some time” (τὸ ποτὲ),12 “lately” (τὸ ἄρτι),13 “presently” or “just” (τὸ ἤδη),14 “long ago” (τὸ πάλαι),15 and “suddenly” (τὸ ἐξαίφνης) mean. (Ph. IV.13.222b15–29, transl. Ross)

 The “now” is the link of time, as has been said (for it connects past and future time), and it is a limit of time (for it is the beginning of the one and the end of the other). But this is not obvious as it is with the point, which is fixed. It divides potentially, and in so far as it is dividing the “now” is always different, but in so far as it connects it is always the same, as it is with mathematical lines. For the intellect it is not always one and the same point, since it is other and other when one divides the line; but in so far as it is one, it is the same in every respect (222a10–17). 12  “At some time” means a time determined in relation to the first of the two types of “now”, e.g., “at some time” Troy was taken, and “at some time” there will be a flood; for it must be determined with reference to the “now”. There will thus be a determinate time from this “now” to that, and there was such in reference to the past event. But if there be no time which is not “sometime”, every time will be determined (222a25–28). 13  “Lately”, too, refers to the part of past time which is near the present “now” (222b6–7). “When did you go?” “Lately”, if the time is near the existing now (222b13–14). 14  “Presently” or “just” refers to the part of future time which is near the indivisible present “now” (222b7–8). 15  “Long ago” refers to the distant past (222b14). 11

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Motion and rest occur in time (Ph. VI.3.234b9), and the instant is a limit of motion and rest. The instant is an extremely short duration, which means it is a part of time. For Aristotle, there is no such thing as the beginning or the end of a process of change (Ph. VIII.8. 263a 14–15), since time is continuous. Hence, he appeals here to the potential infinite, since time can be divided only potentially, while for Parmenides, who appeals to an actual infinite, time is a succession of separate moments (νῦν). This definition of ἐξαίφνης is not to be found with this meaning in Plato.

6 Parmenides, Not Plato According to Parmenides in the second part of the Parmenides (Prm. 156c8–e3), nothing can be at rest or in motion in the instant in which change is supposed to occur. This is the basis of a paradox of Zeno presented by Aristotle as the “arrow”: The third [argument] is that already given above, to the effect that the flying arrow is at rest, which result follows from the assumption that time is composed of moments: if this assumption is not granted, the conclusion will not follow (Ph. VI.9.239b 30–32).

The arrow is neither in motion nor at rest in the instant in which change occurs. Zeno’s reasoning, however, is fallacious, when he says that if everything when it occupies an equal space is at rest, and if that which is in locomotion is always occupying such a space at any moment, the flying arrow is therefore motionless. This is false, for time is not composed of indivisible moments any more than any other magnitude is composed of indivisibles (Ph. VI.9.239b5-9, cf. Simplicius, In Phys. 1290.21–24 Diels).

If time is composed of discontinuous “nows”, the arrow when in motion is not in motion, but at rest, being in the place it occupies each time. This paradox is based on the assumption that time is composed of discrete moments, a claim Aristotle denies on the basis of his analysis of infinity, which is potential and never actual.

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In Plato, ἐξαίφνης appears mostly in its usual meanings: suddenly, at once, immediately (Cra. 391a1, 396b4, c7, d3; Tht. 162c3, 203e1; Plt. 291b7; Symp. 212c6, 213c1, 223b2; Grg. 523e4; Leg. 665b4, 678b9, 712e4, 758d4, 866d7, 867a3, b6, 944b2; Resp. 472a1, 553a10, 584b7, 615d6, 621b6). Its philosophical use characterizes the soul’s access to the intelligible realm, linked to light, as in the case of Beauty in the Symposium: “[a]ll of a sudden (ἐξαίφνης) he will catch sight of something wonderfully beautiful in its nature” (Symp. 210e4, transl. Nehamas-Woodruff). In the Republic, there is a play on the sudden vision of light (VII.516a4) and darkness (516e5). And, above all, there is this well-known passage in Letter VII: “[t]here is no writing of mine about these matters, nor will there ever be one. For this knowledge is not something that can be put into words like other sciences; but after long-continued intercourse between teacher and pupil, in joint pursuit of the subject, suddenly (ἐξαίφνης) like light flashing forth when a fire is kindled, it is born in the soul and straightway nourishes itself ”. (Letter VII.341c4–d2, transl. Morrow). As such, ἐξαίφνης has nothing to do with change in the sensible word, because Plato agrees with Aristotle that time has to do with infinity, which is potential and never actual. To conclude. When referring to ἐξαίφνης, Parmenides is alluding to a paradox of Zeno, and not to an argument of Plato. Thus, the second part of the Parmenides deals with the hypothesis of Parmenides, and even if this hypothesis is affirmed, negative consequences can be drawn for the one and for other things. In this passage, which is a temporal corollary of the second series of deductions, Parmenides’ argument does not refer to Plato’s, but to Zeno’s conception of time. Thus, in the second part of the Parmenides, the speaker is the historical Parmenides, and not a figment of Plato’s imagination.

References Allen, Reginald E. 1983. Plato’s Parmenides. Translation and Analysis. Oxford: Blackwell. Berti, Enrico. 1992. Consequenze delle ipotesi del Parmenide. In Il ‘Parmenide’ di Platone, Atti del Convegno ‘Il Parmenide di Platone’ 27–28 ottobre 1988, ed. Vincenzo Vitiello, 47–74. Naples: Guida.

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Brisson, Luc. 2002. Is the world one? A new interpretation of Plato’s Parmenides. Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy 22: 1–20. ———. 2005. Réponse à Denis O’Brien. In Plato’s Parmenides: Proceedings of the Fourth Symposium Platonicum Pragense, ed. Aleš Havlícek and Filip Karfík, 257–262. Prague: Oikouméne. ———. 2018. Platon. Parménide, traduction inédite, introduction, notes et bibliographie, quatrième édition. Paris: GF-Flammarion. Brisson, Luc, and Vianney Décarie. 1987. Le nombre des hypothèses du Parménide: la ‘troisième fois’ (155e4) de quelle “deuxième fois”. Rheinisches Museum für Philologie 130: 248–253. Cornford, Francis M. 1939. Plato and Parmenides. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Meinwald, Constance C. 1991. Plato’s Parmenides. Oxford: Oxford University Press. ———. 2014. How does Plato’s Exercise Work? Dialogue 53: 465–494. Nails, Debra. 2022. The people of Plato: A Prosopography of Plato and Other Sources. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company. O’Brien, Denis. 2005. Le Parménide historique et le Parménide de Platon. In Plato’s Parmenides: Proceedings of the Fourth Symposium Platonicum Pragense, ed. Aleš Havlícek and Filip Karfík, 234–256. Oikouméne: Prague. Saffrey, H.D., and L.G. Westernik. 1968. Proclus: Théologie Platonicienne. Livre I. Texte établi et traduit (Coll. Budé). Paris: Les Belles Lettres.

4 Time, Being and Language in Plato’s Timaeus Lorenzo Giovannetti

1 Language and Time As is well known, Timaeus introduces time as a moving image of eternity. This passage has drawn great attention, with particular regard to two questions. Firstly, the creation of time has been related to the overall exegetical issue of whether in Timaeus’ account the universe has a beginning in time (and consequently what one should make of the so-called pre-cosmic state).1 Secondly, some debate has sparked concerning whether Plato actually distinguishes between eternity qua atemporality

 For an up-to-date status quaestionis regarding the question of “time before time” see Ferrari (2022, pp. CI–CV) and Vázquez (2022). For a comprehensive survey of the main XXth century intepretations regarding the more general issue of the literalist/non-literalist dispute see Carone (2005, pp. 204–5 n. 19) and Ferrari (2022, pp. XXXI–XXXVI). 1

L. Giovannetti (*) Istituto per il Lessico Intellettuale Europeo e Storia delle Idee, Consiglio Nazionale delle Ricerche (ILIESI-CNR), Roma, Italy e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 V. Ilievski et al. (eds.), Plato on Time and the World, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-28198-3_4

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and everlastingness or sempiternal duration.2 If the former question is hardly to ever be definitively settled, I firmly believe the latter has received a quite convincing answer, i.e., for the entire argument to make sense Plato needs to distinguish eternity from everlastingness, which consequently belong to the intelligible model and the generated cosmos, respectively. Accordingly, the reading I am advancing in this article is compatible with both a literalist, temporal reading of Timaeus’ account of the generated cosmos and a non-literalist, eternalist one, although all in all I have a proclivity for the latter. Contrariwise, my argument necessarily assumes that Plato is putting the atemporality of forms in sharp contrast with the unceasing duration of the heavens. The point of making time a moving image of the eternity, which abides in unity, is that the universe cannot perfectly reproduce its model and therefore the only way the world-maker has to make the generated cosmos as close as possible to the original is by making it move regularly according to a periodical, numerically describable order. Time is thus conceptualised as something that is able to mediate between the model and its image by transferring as much of the former’s intelligibility to the latter as is allowed by its nature.3 Timaeus speaks of parts of time (e.g., days, nights, months, years), which express different units of measure allowing rational beings to find a measurable order in the sequence of events in the cosmos.4 What I aim to do in this chapter is focus on the doctrine of the forms (εἴδη) of time, i.e., past, possibly temporal present and future, and highlight three things: firstly, how immediately forms of time are related to their linguistic expression; secondly, the semantical and epistemological

 The traditional interpretation by Taylor (1928) and Cornford (1937) is that Plato distinguishes between atemporal eternity and everlasting duration in time. This view has been challenged by Owen (1966), Whittaker (1968), O’Brien (1985) and, I believe, successfully defended by Táran (1979) and Patterson (1985). Cf. also Petrucci (2022, p. 288). 3  An anonymous reader suggests that this view or some of its implications raise the issue of the partial intelligibility of the sensible world and the consequent question of the degrees of intelligibility of different entities. This is first discussed by Betegh (2010) and, with regard to Timaeus’ prologue, Petrucci (forthcoming). The issue is of great significance and complexity, and cannot be broached here, but cf. n. 45 in this essay. 4  See Sattler (2010), but cf. also Thein (2021). 2

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import of the tenseless “is”5; thirdly, the strict derivation of tensed and tenseless linguistic expressions from the ontological status of the entities whose temporal constituency they express. These questions have been neglected by most interpreters because the main exegetical concern has been the generation of time and the distinction between atemporality and perpetual duration. In the next section, I will connect the results of this section with some passages from Timaeus’ proemium. Consider the following passage: These all are parts of time [scil. days, nights, months, years] and was and will be are forms of time that have come to be. Such notions we unthinkingly but incorrectly apply to eternal being. For we say that it was and is and will be, but according to the true account only is is appropriately said of it. Was and will be are properly said about the becoming that passes in time, for these two are motions. But that which is always changeless and motionless cannot become either older or younger in the course of time, it neither ever came to be, nor is it now such that it has come to be, nor will it ever be in the future. And all in all, none of the characteristics that becoming has bestowed upon the things that are borne about in the realm of perception are appropriate to it. These, rather, are forms of time that have come to be—time that imitates eternity and circles according to number. And what is more, we also say things like these: that what has come to be is what has come to be, that what is coming to be is what is coming to be, and also that what will come to be is what will come to be, and that what is not is what

 On this, two very different yet likewise seminal studies have been crucial, namely Havelock (1963) and Hintikka (1967) (who actually refers to Havelock). Havelock distinguishes between the syntax of happenings and events, which makes use of tensed verbal forms, and a syntax of intelligible being, which only admits of a tenseless use of “be”. He also claims that οὐσία is, among other things, the term Plato uses to designate this requirement of speaking of this sort of existence. Hintikka demonstrates that Plato and Aristotle deal with temporally indefinite sentences (i.e., which provide no temporal indication) that acquire their truth-value at the moment of their utterance, and that this truth-value can change when the world changes. Thus, to have a statement with an eternal truth-value, one needs a sentence that speaks about an object that makes it true at all times  such as an eternal being: “insofar as present-tense statements (without explicit temporal specifications or explicit restrictions to the present moment) are taken to represent claims to knowledge, they thus automatically assume a ‘tenseless’ or ‘conjunctive’ sense” (Hintikka 1967, p. 10). Cf. also n. 44 below.

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is not. None of these expressions of ours is accurate.6 (trans. Zeyl slightly modified)

In the following three subsections, I will address: (I) what it means that Timaeus speaks of forms of time and what they are; (II) the association between eternal being and the “is”; (III) the final additional expressions that are regarded as inaccurate by Timaeus at 38a9–b3.

1.1 The Forms of Time To begin with, we have τό τ’ ἦν τό τ’ ἔσται χρόνου γεγονότα εἴδη. Clearly, the use of εἴδη here cannot designate Platonic forms because the forms of time are said to be generated. Thus, most interpreters correctly translate the term as forms (generic), species, aspects, and the like. Arguably, the use of εἴδη could suggest that one is faced with something that is not merely linguistic. Time is generated as a numerable repeating order of the movements of the heavens. This means that the “was” and “will be” are forms or aspects of this real entity and therefore they are no less real. In other words, if time is real, then its forms are real as well. This is clearly reinforced below in the passage: they are forms, which have come to be, of time, which imitates eternity and circles according to number (χρόνου ταῦτα αἰῶνα μιμουμένου καὶ κατ’ ἀριϑμὸν κυκλουμένου γέγονεν εἴδη). What imitates eternity and circles according to number is not a linguistic entity nor could its

 Ti. 37e3–38b3: «ταῦτα δὲ πάντα μέρη χρόνου, καὶ τό τ’ ἦν τό τ’ ἔσται χρόνου γεγονότα εἴδη, ἃ δὴ φέροντες λανϑάνομεν ἐπὶ τὴν ἀΐδιον οὐσίαν οὐκ ὀρϑῶς. λέγομεν γὰρ δὴ ὡς ἦν ἔστιν τε καὶ ἔσται, τῇ δὲ τὸ ἔστιν μόνον κατὰ τὸν ἀληϑῆ λόγον προσήκει, τὸ δὲ ἦν τό τ’ ἔσται περὶ τὴν ἐν χρόνῳ γένεσιν ἰοῦσαν πρέπει λέγεσϑαι· κινήσεις γάρ ἐστον, τὸ δὲ ἀεὶ κατὰ ταὐτὰ ἔχον ἀκινήτως οὔτε πρεσβύτερον οὔτε νεώτερον προσήκει γίγνεσϑαι διὰ χρόνου οὐδὲ γενέσϑαι ποτὲ οὐδὲ γεγονέναι νῦν οὐδ’ εἰς αὖϑις ἔσεσϑαι, τὸ παράπαν τε οὐδὲν ὅσα γένεσις τοῖς ἐν αἰσϑήσει φερομένοις προσῆψεν, ἀλλὰ χρόνου ταῦτα αἰῶνα μιμουμένου καὶ κατ’ ἀριϑμὸν κυκλουμένου γέγονεν εἴδη. καὶ πρὸς τούτοις ἔτι τὰ τοιάδε, τό τε γεγονὸς εἶναι γεγονὸς καὶ τὸ γιγνόμενον εἶναι γιγνόμενον, ἔτι τε τὸ γενησόμενον εἶναι γενησόμενον καὶ τὸ μὴ ὂν μὴ ὂν εἶναι, ὧν οὐδὲν ἀκριβὲς λέγομεν». 6

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forms ever be such.7 However, immediately after introducing the forms of time, Timaeus says that we apply them (φέροντες) and we do this unknowingly and incorrectly. This might sound quite natural because the terms used to designate the forms of time are verbs preceded by the neuter article. As is well known, classical Greek has no specific terms for past, present and future. Since the first book of the Iliad up to at least Plato, temporal dimensions are expressed by a number of participles that roughly correspond to the things that were, that are now and that will or are about to be.8 It is true that in this commonplace formulation the participle is actually designating generic entities, but at the same time their only connotation is that they are in the past, present or future in our jargon. Thus, the use of verbs plus neuter article does not exclude that Timaeus is speaking of something more than linguistic expressions. What is more, below in the passage, it is maintained that “was” and “will be” can legitimately be said about becoming or generation proceeding within time insofar as they are motions (τὸ δὲ ἦν τό τ’ ἔσται περὶ τὴν ἐν χρόνῳ γένεσιν ἰοῦσαν πρέπει λέγεσϑαι· κινήσεις γάρ ἐστον). This assertion is not entirely clear. It is reasonable to take it to at least mean that if there is motion or change there is also a passage from one temporal stage to another. Accordingly, for anything to change in whatever respect there is a time at which that thing was this way and a later time at which the thing is this other way. This is enough to suggest that forms of time are not merely linguistic insofar as κινήσεις are not linguistic entities. At the same time, these forms of time are immediately understood with respect to the way we apply the corresponding expression to a variety of subjects such as the eternal paradigm and becoming things, which we usually do incorrectly. Thus, it makes sense to contrast the μέρη of time, namely days, nights, months and years, with the εἴδη. The parts of time are perceptible processes. Registering the regularity of their succession  One could perhaps stress the role of γεγονότα and say that time is created with its parts that are the expression of its numeric order and as a consequence linguistic temporal categories expressed by “was” and “will be” start to make sense. This, however, sounds quite unplausible because the entire passage is stating that time and its parts are generated, not just its forms, and it sounds problematic that in this context Plato is using γέγονεν and its cognates in such different ways. 8  Cf. for example Il. I. 70 and Resp. III. 392d1–3. 7

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requires at least two things. Firstly, one needs to experience, say, the movement from day to night and from night to day. Secondly, one is able to find a pattern in the process by means of numbers, which are intelligible items and confer their own intelligibility upon time. When it comes to the εἴδη of time, there is in principle no direct perception of past and future things. Above we saw that forms of time are said to be κινήσεις. It is not clear to what extent, for instance, “will be” is a motion or change if by the latter we mean some process going on in front of our eyes. It makes much more sense to claim that for Timaeus “was” and “will be” are required by, or involved in, any process of change, but the way one cognises that process on the one hand and the way she cognises the process’ “was” and “will be”, on the other, are not entirely overlapping. All this is to highlight that it is the very nature of the forms of time that makes them accessible to cognition in a quite different way from the parts of time and that makes them more strictly related to their linguistic expression. This can provide a rationale as to why Timaeus designates the εἴδη of time by mentioning the corresponding linguistic expression, without us failing to acknowledge the forms of time their extra-linguistic reality. This point is relevant to my argument because I will attempt to show throughout the chapter that the way language expresses time, or at least the way it should do that, is a fundamental outcome of the strict relation between linguistic formulations and the nature of the entities they refer to.

1.2 Eternal Being and the “Is” Importatly, Timaeus is rectifying the  improper use of our  linguistic expressions. Expressions such as “was”, “is” and “will be” are applied to eternal being (τὴν ἀΐδιον οὐσίαν), while only “is” should. I think that the most straightforward and convincing reading of this ἀΐδιον οὐσίαν, which has already been largely proven by the scholars, is eternal being in a strict atemporal sense. The corresponding linguistic form to speak of such being is “is”. As is well known, the meaning of “is” has received

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many interpretations and has generated a lively debate.9 The main acquisition of this debate has been that existence and determination (existential and predicative uses or senses of “be”) cannot be kept apart. Thus, we can easily accept that Timaeus means that eternal being is, i.e., exists as something determinate, and the heavens or the universe existed and will exist as something determinate. However, the real point at stake in this passage is not just this. We should focus on Timaeus normative statement: when speaking of eternal being one should only say “is”. Apart from the clear Parmenidean echoes, it does not seem likely that Timaeus is claiming that one can and should only say “is” of the paradigm, full stop. When talking of the paradigm consisting of forms such as Beauty, Triangle or Fire one can actually specify what that form is.10 I submit that the best way to understand the philosophical point Timaeus is making is to conceive of that “is” as tenseless.11 A tenseless use of “is” lies within a unique yes-or-no or always-or-never perspective. Whatever I state such as “x is F” falling within this tenseless use, it is just either true or false independently of time or any temporal reference. Let us focus on this point. If there is only “is” in speaking of a certain entity, there is no time at which it will start being non-F if it is F and vice versa. Eternal, atemporal being just is what it is without admitting of any change whatsoever. This is the well-known epistemic comfort, deriving from having a changeless object, that Plato has always appealed to all the way back to at least the middle dialogues. I think this is clearly represented in our passage. Eternal being is characterised, unsurprisingly, as changelessly keeping self-identical (τὸ δὲ ἀεὶ κατὰ ταὐτὰ ἔχον ἀκινήτως) and it does not befit it to become younger or older through time (οὔτε πρεσβύτερον οὔτε νεώτερον προσήκει γίγνεσϑαι διὰ χρόνου), nor befits it that it became at some point in the past (οὐδὲ γενέσϑαι ποτὲ), nor that it has become now (οὐδὲ γεγονέναι νῦν), nor that it will be in the posterity (οὐδ’ εἰς αὖϑις ἔσεσϑαι). This is summarised by the  Just to name a few, see Kahn (1981, 2003), Brown (1986), Fronterotta (2011).  This point is also recognised by Petrucci (2022, p. 289). 11  This perspective is already considered by Taylor (1928, p. 188): “Of that which does not ‘pass’ at all we can only say that it just ‘is’ such and such, and the ‘is’ of such a statement is not a present as opposed to a past or future. It is not the ‘is’ which means ‘is at this moment’; in fact it is a ‘timeless present’, as the ‘gnomic aorist’ in Greek is a ‘timeless past’”. 9

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following statement: absolutely none of the aspects that becoming attaches to the things that move within perception (τὸ παράπαν τε οὐδὲν ὅσα γένεσις τοῖς ἐν αἰσϑήσει φερομένοις προσῆψεν) befit eternal being. This statement strongly reinforces the idea that eternal being and the generated cosmos are irreducible to one another. Moreover, this statement lines up with an association that is omnipresent in the Timaeus: generation, motion and perception imply each other in such a way that they constitute a domain of entities (to this it could be added that these entities are generated by a cause in accordance to a model of which they are likenesses).12 This last statement is also very important because it shows that Timaeus is not just contrasting the eternity of the paradigm and the perpetual duration of the generated universe. We should restrict the use of “was” and “will be” to both the generated universe as a whole and to every single thing in motion in the domain of what is perceptible included in the universe as a whole. The main difference between the cosmos and the many becoming things within it is that only the former is an image of eternal being, which means that only the cosmos was, is and will be for all time, whereas sensible particulars may pass away at some point.13 However, as far as tensed expressions are concerned, cosmos and sensible particulars are alike. What I think has not received due emphasis is that speaking of the two domains, namely eternal being and generation/becoming, might function in different ways and Timaeus is, among other things, trenchantly making this point here. Tenseless statements, however, could also be considered from the point of view of the speaker and not just with regard to the immutability of the object spoken about. If we accept the yes-or-no requirement of the tenseless “is”, then there is no specific point in the succession of events the speaker needs to be at in order to be able to answer a tenseless “is” question. In Atlantis or in contemporary Athens, if I state “squares are figures with four equal sides” the truth of this statement will not be different. But also my capacity to assess this truth would remain unaffected by my whereabouts and by where I find myself in the universal chronology so magnificently and regularly ordered by  This is clearly stated at Ti. 28b7–c2.  Cf. Mesch (1997, p. 229).

12 13

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time and number. This is a crucial epistemological implication of tenseless “is” truths: eternal truths are always attainable in a way that is independent of one’s position in space and time. As we will see in the next section, this is possible because eternal being can be only found by exercising thought and reason. One more aspect should be considered. When making his normative statement on the use of “is” at 37e6–a1, Timaeus says that only the “is” belongs to eternal being according to the true account or discourse (τῇ δὲ τὸ ἔστιν μόνον κατὰ τὸν ἀληϑῆ λόγον προσήκει). Two things should be noted. Firstly, Timaeus is not claiming that the “is” can only be said about eternal being. He is rather claiming that only the “is” can be said about eternal being. This does not by itself exclude that one can use the “is” with regard to becoming things in a loose or derivative way. Secondly, there is the very interesting phrase κατὰ τὸν ἀληϑῆ λόγον. The normative claim Timaeus is making is introduced by this phrase. Of course, its overall meaning should be understood in relation to Timaeus’ normative statement. People speak in some way, this way to some extent works but is ultimately wrong and this because of how things really stand. If one embraces another way of speaking based on a true account of how things stand, then one will start speaking correctly. The structure of the argument is platitudinous. The point is taking the expression κατὰ τὸν ἀληϑῆ λόγον as a reference to the true account concerning how some linguistic expressions work. Most translators seem to render it like this.14 In this case the λόγος in κατὰ τὸν ἀληϑῆ λόγον stands for a reflection on, or account of, how some linguistic expressions such as “is”, “was”, “will be” work in relation to objects from different ontological types (i.e., atemporal or not) that is different from the λόγος in which these expressions are employed. Another possible reading is to take the κατὰ τὸν ἀληϑῆ λόγον as a reference to the λόγος that uses the expression “is” in relation to eternal being, which makes it a true, i.e., authentic, discourse. Thus, the entire sentence should sound like “only the ‘is’ belongs to it, i.e., eternal being, in relation to a statement [in which ‘is’ occurs] that is true [to its nature]”. Cornford (1937) seems to partly go this way in his translation  Brisson and Patillon (1992), Zeyl (2000), Fronterotta (2003), Petrucci (2022). Waterfield (2008) renders it with “truly” giving it an adverbial value which risks concealing its philosophical depth.

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when he renders κατὰ τὸν ἀληϑῆ λόγον in this context with “but ‘is’ alone belongs to it [scil. eternal being] and describes it truly”. This second interpretation has it that if one is to speak in accordance with the true nature of λόγος then she must employ only “is” in speaking of eternal being. The difference between the two readings is not dramatic. In fact, the philosophical point remains the same: the correct use of some crucial expressions such as “is” is dictated by the nature of what one speaks about and the latter’s relation to time. This is compatible with both (i) taking the phrase κατὰ τὸν ἀληϑῆ λόγον as a reflection on how these expressions work with regard to what they are said about and (ii) interpreting the phrase as marking that to use “is” when speaking of eternal being makes the statement a true and authentic instance of a λόγος. All in all, I tend to prefer the first alternative because it enables us to raise the following question: since Timaeus is speaking about language, how does this true account according to which one should only speak of eternal being by means of “is” fit with the very distinction it asserts? To address this question from another perspective: what does it mean for this λόγος, i.e., the λόγος stating that only the “is” belongs to eternal being, to be true? My impression is that this λόγος is eternally true in a tenseless way insofar as it describes an eternal aspect of the nature of λόγοι as they depend on the ontological traits of the entities they speak about, which I will extensively discuss below. Why should one bother raising this question? I guess because it could be connected to the very famous ἀλήθεια/πίστις opposition at 29c3. The truth of this λόγος must be such sort of truth as opposed to whatever is only likely or reasonable.15 What is more, in the analogy οὐσία/γένεσις and ἀλήθεια/πίστις being and truth are actually related by Timaeus. I think this question is worth raising, given the degree of metacognition displayed by Timaeus when it comes to assessing the epistemic status of his own discourse. Thus, this distinction on how to speak of the eternal being would be more solid than the likely account concerning the universe. Accordingly, I favour the first reading of κατὰ τὸν ἀληϑῆ λόγον.  Cf. also the phrase καὶ μετ’ ἀληϑοῦς λόγου at 51e3.

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1.3 More Inaccuracies In the final part of the quoted passage, Timaeus considers other linguistic expressions. He adds that these other expressions are also inaccurate: to say that what has come to be is what has come to be (τό τε γεγονὸς εἶναι γεγονὸς), to say that what comes to be is what comes to be (τὸ γιγνόμενον εἶναι γιγνόμενον), to say that what will come to be is what will come to be (γενησόμενον εἶναι γενησόμενον), to say that what is not is what is not (καὶ τὸ μὴ ὂν μὴ ὂν εἶναι). As I understand it, Timaeus is not forbidding identity statement such as “x is identical with x”.16 He must be meaning something like “it should not be said of x, where x is a becoming thing, that it is a becoming thing, insofar as “is” has a tenseless use which is incompatible with becoming”. Above we saw that to speak of eternal being one should employ “is” and avoid “was” and “will be” along with other phrases or terms related to coming to be. Keeping for now aside the question of τὸ μὴ ὂν, Timaeus here seems to be making the reverse claim that in speaking about what has come to be in the past, what is coming to be in the present and what will come to be in the future, one should not use the term “is”. Most safely, we can take this to mean that the tenseless “is” should not be applied to becoming entities insofar as it derives from the status of the eternal being that it so fittingly expresses. As far as these becoming entities are concerned, in accordance with what I stated above, I would tend to read it as quite comprehensive: Timaeus is not just talking of the temporal stages of the cosmos as a whole, he is also including the sensible particulars that have come to be, are coming to be and will come to be within the cosmos. The point would be that in order to be precise one should avoid using the “is” in the case of becoming things. 16  Of course, if “identity” here is understood in a strongly Platonic sense, namely the ἀεὶ κατὰ ταὐτὰ ἔχον, which belongs only to eternity, Timaeus is precisely denying that it can be attributed to temporal beings. However, this is a metaphysical, and not a logical distinction. In the case of the generated universe, for instance, we could say that it is the same universe through time, but we should not apply the tenseless “is” to it. At 38c2–3, Timaeus has no problem saying of the universe that it has been, is, and will be for all time, forevermore (ὁ δ’ αὖ διὰ τέλους τὸν ἅπαντα χρόνον γεγονώς τε καὶ ὢν καὶ ἐσόμενος), which implies the universe is the same universe at all times. Accordingly, his point about using “is” in the case of what comes to be must be something else.

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This being said, the philosophical implications of this further assertion might prove to be complex. The first question arising is: what about the present in time? There are two main options. Firstly, one can claim that Timaeus is just restricting the use of “is” to tenseless uses. Therefore, what is usually expressed in the non-precise way by the “is” can be phrased by γίγνεσθαι and cognates at the present tense. This use of γίγνεσθαι is specifically mentioned in the passage and so does not raise any issues. Its reference is just what takes place or is perceived by somebody at a certain time as opposed to what came to be before that time (and is no longer there) or what will come to be after that time (and is not there yet). However, if the present of what takes place is a γίγνεσθαι, i.e., some sort of becoming, another more radical interpretation could be considered, namely that no coming to be is fully present but it is constantly shifting from past to future and therefore the only notion of present is the one expressed to tenseless uses belonging to eternal being. In another words, Plato would be exposing the crucial difference between “now” and (atemporal) “always”, where the latter (i) uniquely deserves the employment of the tenseless “is”, which is quite plain from the text, and (ii) the one expressed by the tenseless “is” is the only possible notion of present. This stronger reading would rely on the notorious ἐξαίφνης section in the Parmenides (156c1–157b5).17 I cannot push this connection any farther here. However, it feels legitimate to say that the text is at least compatible with the weaker reading that eternal being is present in an atemporal sense which is expressed by a tenseless use of “is” and therefore, if we restrict the use of “is” to the tenseless one, we should not employ it to speak of temporal entities, for which we have a full range of tensed uses of the verb γίγνεσθαι.18 The uses of γίγνεσθαι at the present tense would be able to express that some process is coming to be in the present also recognising that for Plato processes in the present are never really stable

 This reading is adumbrated by Petrucci (2022, p. 290).  Essential on this is the seminal Frede (1988, especially pp. 42–49), who recognises that when speaking of becoming things there is a very common use of γίγνεσθαι in Greek, which we will quite normally translate with “be” and means only temporarily displaying some character without really being such. 17 18

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or static.19 This could suffice to Timaeus’ purposes in this passage, namely to sharply distinguish eternity from time in such a way that, according to truth, this distinction should also affect the way we speak without this implying that our loose talk concerning things we experience in the present time cannot be accounted for in some other way (e.g., by a correct use of γίγνεσθαι or a tensed employment of “is”, which Timaeus himself makes at 38c3). The fineness of this philosophical manoeuvre may fruitfully be linked to a statement in the Sophist at 262d where the Eleatic Stranger says that the λόγος “is now giving an indication of things that are or are coming into being, or have come into being or are going to”20 (transl. Rowe). Regardless of the complex series of arguments in the Sophist, where the Stranger is contrasting naming and saying, or the notion of revelation/ indication (δηλοῦν), which require much more analysis, it is interesting to find in this passage a clear-cut distinction between being and coming to be from the semantical point of view. In other words, the Strangers feels the need to make clear that the indication that can be achieved by weaving together names/nouns with verbs can be sorted into two distinct categories: on the one hand, what is (no mention of what was or will be) and, on the other hand, what has come to be, is coming to be or is going to come to be. This way of dividing what can be shown by meaningful λόγοι is clearly reminiscent of what we saw in the Timaeus and can be understood as keeping the tenseless description of what is (eternally), i.e., forms, separate from the tensed description of what comes to be at different temporal stages. Given its overall purpose, reference to the Sophist seems to be required also to understand the very quick mention of not-being or what is not at 38b2–3. We are told that one should not say of what is not that it is what is not. Timaeus does not make very much of this statement, thereby pre-­ empting any detailed analysis of his argument. Some superficial consonance might lead one to read it as the Parmenides-like prohibition of associating “is” with what is not. As is well known, the Sophist is the  For a comprehensive account of Plato’s conception of change, which fits with my analysis, cf. Ademollo (2018). 20  Soph. 262d1–2: «δηλοῖ γὰρ ἤδη που τότε περὶ τῶν ὄντων ἢ γιγνομένων ἢ γεγονότων ἢ μελλόντων». 19

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dialogue where Plato deals with the issue. In this dialogue, to put it very roughly, the Stranger allows one to speak of what is not by associating it with the kind Difference or Otherness, which as a kind partakes of the kind being and therefore is. Some have concluded from this that in the Timaeus saying that “is” should not be applied to what is not is some sort of pre-Sophist argument.21 However, I think a reverse attitude can prove much more helpful to disclose this final and indeed cryptic reference to not-being. In other words, it is precisely interpreting the phrase τὸ μὴ ὂν from a post-Sophist perspective that allows one to better contextualise the expression. From the final lines of the passage in the Timaeus, we see that this mention of not-being comes right after what has come to be, what comes to be, and what will come to be. An association of τὸ μὴ ὂν with sensible particulars that undergo some change and becoming sounds quite natural. Thus, the question would be: what notion of not-being can be associated with tensed forms of becoming so much as to exclude any use of the tenseless “is” with regard to it? An inevitably tentative answer would be to look at the final part of the Sophist. As is well known, the Stranger asserts that false statements say what is not about Theaetetus as if it were.22 One of the most widely accepted interpretations, also known as the Oxford interpretation, has it that to say what is not about Theaetetus means to say that Theaetetus partakes of something that is different from any other kind of which Theaetetus actually partakes.23 For instance, Theaetetus is not flying because flying is not with regard to Theaetetus, which should be paraphrased as “flying is not (differs from) any kind Theaetetus partakes of ”. Of course, the matter is quite complex; however, it might be suggested that Timaeus is maintaining that (i) things coming to be some way or another at various temporal stages should not be spoken about by means of the tenseless “is” (the first three occurrences of γίγνεσθαι); (ii) the same goes for all sorts of “not-beings” qua all kinds the becoming things do not partake of at some point in time (the quick mention of τὸ μὴ ὂν). For instance, Theaetetus is sitting. He is a becoming thing and  Cf. for instance Owen (1965a, 1966, p. 329).  See Soph. 263b9. 23  See for instance Frede (1992), O’Brien (2005). For a very complete survey of the advocates of the Oxford interpretation, cf. Crivelli (2012, p. 238 n. 58). 21 22

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therefore one should avoid using the “is”. However, while sitting Theaetetus is not partaking of flying or standing. Timaeus’ point would be that this not-being is not to be spoken about by means of the tenseless “is” as it is the correlate of coming to be: every time one comes to be F, it is not G, etc. In other words, this notion of not-being is involved in the γένεσις and thus is not correct to describe it by means of tenseless “is”. The main obstacle to this reading is that in the Sophist the Stranger plentifully uses “being” and “not-being” to speak of what is being indicated by true and false statements, e.g., true statements say τὰ ὄντα about Theaetetus.24 This objection is not fatal as it can hardly be claimed that that use of “be” is  meant to be tenseless. Moreover, the two examples concerning Theaetetus, namely “Theaetetus is sitting” and “Theaetetus is flying”, make no reference to being in the Greek (the Stranger uses κάθηται and πέτεται). Finally, in the Timaeus what is being criticised is not the ὂν in τὸ μὴ ὂν, but rather to say of τὸ μὴ ὂν that it is τὸ μὴ ὂν.

2 Language and World Timaeus’ reflection on tense and tenselessness is so profound and philosophically challenging that we are understandably led to take Plato himself to regard his own theory as being of great significance. All the more so because the theory sketched at 37d ff. is entirely based on the metaphysical distinction between the eternal, atemporal paradigm and the generated universe. This distinction is quintessentially Platonic and its exposition is found at the very beginning of Timaeus’ long monologue. I am obviously referring to 27c–29d. Timaeus’ prologue is one of the most commented passages in the Platonic corpus and I will be addressing it exclusively in relation to my question.25 This will require focusing on two passages from the prologue, namely 28a1–4 and 29b2–c3. Thus, in the  Cf. Soph. 263b4.  The debate has been focusing on the appearance of the standard theory of forms, cf. Owen (1965), Cherniss (1965); the poetic form of the exposition and its relation to epic poets, cf. Runia (1997), Desclos (2006), Capra (2010), Regali (2012); and of course the expression εἰκώς μῦθος, cf. Donini (1988), Johansen (2004, pp.  48–68), Burnyeat (2005), Betegh (2010), Mourelatos (2010), Broadie (2012, pp. 31–56), Bryan (2012, pp. 114–191), Petrucci (forthcoming). For the question of the literal or metaphorical reading of the generation of the cosmos posed by the prologue, cf. supra n.1. 24 25

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following two subsections, I will analyse some implications for my argument of these gloriously renowned passages. My main objective in connecting the passage on time and language with these parts of the prologue is to highlight that for Plato not only does the ontological status and nature of an entity affect the sort of cognition one has of it, but it also influences the way one speaks about it.

2.1 The Metaphysical Framework It is now helpful to briefly focus on how the metaphysical framework in the Timaeus is first introduced. Consider the following text: Our starting-point lies, I think, in the following distinction: what is it that always is, but never comes to be, and what is it that comes to be but never is? The former, since it is always consistent, can be grasped by the intellect with the support of a reasoned account, while the latter is the object of belief, supported by unreasoning sensation, since it is generated and passes away, but never really is.26 (transl. Waterfield)

We are faced here with one of the clearest examples of Plato’s distinction between being and becoming.27 I will not analyse the question of why becoming must always change.28 I will focus on the association between types of entities and sorts of cognition. This is also very well known and is a typical Platonic statement: there is knowledge of being

 Ti. 28a1–4: «Ἔστιν οὖν δὴ κατ’ ἐμὴν δόξαν πρῶτον διαιρετέον τάδε· τί τὸ ὂν ἀεί, γένεσιν δὲ οὐκ ἔχον, καὶ τί τὸ γιγνόμενον μέν, ὂν δὲ οὐδέποτε; τὸ μὲν δὴ νοήσει μετὰ λόγου περιληπτόν, ἀεὶ κατὰ ταὐτὰ ὄν, τὸ δ’ αὖ δόξῃ μετ’ αἰσϑήσεως ἀλόγου δοξαστόν, γιγνόμενον καὶ ἀπολλύμενον, ὄντως δὲ οὐδέποτε ὄν». 27  In an excruciatingly peculiar way, very common in Plato, this distinction between being and becoming, which is clearly at the core of Plato’s metaphysics, is immediately associated with νόησις and δόξα, and at the same time the very distinction is introduced with the phrase κατ’ ἐμὴν δόξαν. Does this mean that the distinction is uncertain? This can well be a discursive employment of the term δόξα, but the reader cannot help but feeling provoked by the author. 28  See again Ademollo (2018). Cf. also Fronterotta (2018). 26

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and belief of becoming.29 What I am interested in is how the connection between types of entities and sorts of cognition is spelt out. To begin with, always self-identical being (ἀεὶ κατὰ ταὐτὰ ὄν) is referred to with the term περιληπτόν, which means “graspable” or “apprehensible” if the context concerns some cognitive process or act. It is worth noting that the prefix περι- is likely meant to suggest that what is being apprehended is an object independent of its apprehension. Simply put, if I embrace somebody, that person is other than my act of embracing her and her existence is the condition for the embrace to take place. Thereafter, we have νοήσει μετὰ λόγου. Being is graspable in relation to νόησις, understanding. The dative, along with the term περιληπτόν, gives a cognitive-mental connotation to the grasping or embracing. This understanding is accompanied by λόγος, which by itself has a variety of meanings ranging from “statement”, to “account” or “definition”. Here, it cannot merely mean “statement” or “discourse”, as one can speak of becoming things as well. It must be some specific use of language that is characterised by rationality, hence the common translations with account, reasoning, etc. What is important here, which is contrasted with the unreasoning nature of perception one line below, is the connection between rational understanding and being. Now, this can have several implications. Firstly, only being can be the object of reasoned accounts, as Waterfield renders it. This sounds quite plain: in order to have a fully-­ fledged account of something, that something must be stable, only being is stable, therefore we have accounts only of being. Secondly, the text can also suggest that any grasp of being takes place only in relation to an understanding accompanied by or requiring λόγος. In other words, in contrast to perception, which takes place through the body and is irrational or unreasoned, being is only graspable by a particular mental act, understanding, which comes with the λόγος. Here, I take it, Timaeus is saying that being is nowhere to be found outside the rational use of

 The debate is enormous. For an up-to-date status quaestionis see Giovannetti (2020). For the latest, monograph-long exploration of this traditional interpretation of Plato’s epistemology see Moss (2021).

29

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language accompanying understanding.30 I read this line as not just saying that one has accounts of being because it is stable, but also that being is only retrievable by a νόησις which comes with λόγος. The line τὸ μὲν δὴ νοήσει μετὰ λόγου περιληπτόν, ἀεὶ κατὰ ταὐτὰ ὄν should then be read as a biconditional: understanding with λόγος is a grasp only of being and there is a grasp of being only with understanding and λόγος. As far as what comes to be and passes away but never really is is concerned, Timaeus says that it is graspable by opinion accompanied by irrational, or unreasoned, perception (τὸ δ’ αὖ δόξῃ μετ’ αἰσϑήσεως ἀλόγου δοξαστόν). It is worth noting that perception is being characterised by the lack of reason or rationality. This is because perception takes place through one’s body and its interactions with other bodies. This is significantly different from νόησις and surely the objects of perception are not to be found within or by language or some of its specific employments. Importantly, however, we find an asymmetry here. The term δόξα implies the formulation of judgements. Plato is not claiming that one cannot speak about perceivable things or that what one says about these perceivable things cannot possibly be true. He seems to be saying that becoming things can be perceived and that perception by itself does not involve any linguistic or rational process. If we follow the highly chiastic structure of the cited passage, it is clear that the phrase μετ’ αἰσϑήσεως ἀλόγου identifies a domain where some type of objects is found that is grasped by δόξα. This could reinforce my point above that the phrase μετὰ λόγου in turn identifies a domain where another type of objects is found that is grasped by νόησις. However, δόξα is still linguistically connoted, the asymmetry lying in the fact that we do not see a parallel structure being: language = becoming: perception, full stop. We see that being comes with purely rational cognitive and linguistic activity (which is also key to determining a domain of objects). By contrast, becoming things come with some cognitive-linguistic activity that finds its objects through a

 Cf. Ti. 51e ff, where being is repeatedly described as outside any perception, especially the statement ἀόρατον δὲ καὶ ἄλλως ἀναίσϑητον, τοῦτο ὃ δὴ νόησις εἴληχεν ἐπισκοπεῖν. Cf. also what Corcilius (2018, especially pp. 85 ff) says about ἅπτειν in relation to the world-soul. 30

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faculty or activity, i.e. perception, which is devoid of rationality or reasoning.31

2.2 The λόγοι between ἐξήγησις and συγγένεια It is now time to address the final excerpt from the dialogue, which is crucial to understand the way time and timelessness is the hinge on which language rotates in referring to different types of entities. Consider the following passage: It is, of course, crucial to begin any subject at its natural starting-point. Where an image and its original are concerned, we had better appreciate that statements about them are similar to the objects they explicate, in the sense that statements about that which is stable, secure, and manifest to intellect are themselves stable and reliable (and it’s important for statements about such things to be just as irrefutable and unassailable as statements can possibly be), while statements about things that are in fact images, because they’ve been made in the likeness of an original, are no more than likely, and merely correspond to the first kind of statement: as being is to becoming, so the truth of the one kind of account is to the plausibility of the other.32 (transl. Waterfield)

To begin with, we have the programmatic and cursory remark that the most important thing is to start an enquiry from its natural starting point (ἄρξασϑαι κατὰ φύσιν ἀρχήν). This can mean at least two things. Firstly, one must accept the ontological distinction between paradigm and likeness, which is strictly related to what we saw above, i.e., the 31  This asymmetry is one more facies of something we find very often in the Timaeus: the asymmetry between the cause and what is caused, the model and its likeness, etc. Cf. the very interesting analysis by Karfik (2021), who claims that judging what is perceived by a body and its mortal soul is passed on by the rational soul. 32  Ti. 29b2–c3: «μέγιστον δὴ παντὸς ἄρξασϑαι κατὰ φύσιν ἀρχήν. ὧδε οὖν περί τε εἰκόνος καὶ περὶ τοῦ παραδείγματος αὐτῆς διοριστέον, ὡς ἄρα τοὺς λόγους, ὧνπέρ εἰσιν ἐξηγηταί, τούτων αὐτῶν καὶ συγγενεῖς ὄντας· τοῦ μὲν οὖν μονίμου καὶ βεβαίου καὶ μετὰ νοῦ καταφανοῦς μονίμους καὶ ἀμεταπτώτους—καϑ’ ὅσον οἷόν τε ἀνελέγκτοις προσήκει λόγοις εἶναι καὶ ἀνικήτοις, τούτου δεῖ μηδὲν ἐλλείπειν—τοὺς δὲ τοῦ πρὸς μὲν ἐκεῖνο ἀπεικασϑέντος, ὄντος δὲ εἰκόνος εἰκότας ἀνὰ λόγον τε ἐκείνων ὄντας· ὅτιπερ πρὸς γένεσιν οὐσία, τοῦτο πρὸς πίστιν ἀλήϑεια».

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being-becoming pair. Secondly, this distinction is κατὰ φύσιν and this could also suggest that one is faced with some fundamental fact that should be recognised.33 In other words, this programmatic assertion at the beginning of the passage may have a normative status very similar to what we have seen about tense and tenselessness. Most people do not recognise the distinction between being and becoming and this does not make it less true. By contrast, if one is to start an enquiry according to nature (how things really stand), recognising the distinction is of the utmost significance. Timaeus adds a remark that is essential to our analysis: therefore, when it comes to the image and its model one must determine consequently that the λόγοι, of the very thing of which are ἐξηγηταί, of that same thing are also συγγενεῖς (ὡς ἄρα τοὺς λόγους, ὧνπέρ εἰσιν ἐξηγηταί, τούτων αὐτῶν καὶ συγγενεῖς ὄντας). To conclude this chapter, I wish to provide an interpretation of what λόγος, ἐξηγητής and συγγενής mean here in a way that is illuminated by what he claims about time and tense at 37d ff. The term λόγος is the least complicated. As we have already seen, it ranges from statement to account and the like. Burnyeat (2005, 155) claims that λόγος must mean some complex account or description. This is because at 29c4–7 Timaeus says that we could well be unable to provide λόγοι that are altogether internally consistent in every respect and perfectly precise (αὐτοὺς ἑαυτοῖς ὁμολογουμένους λόγους καὶ ἀπηκριβωμένους ἀποδοῦναι) with regard to the generated cosmos.34 This inconsistency cannot be that the single statement of the form “x is F ” is inconsistent with itself, but rather that a number of assertions concerning the cosmos could turn out to be in contrast with each other. This sounds convincing, but it should be added that an account such as the one Burnyeat has in mind is basically a set of statements that stand in some logical relations. It may well be that what makes an account consistent with itself is that it regards a particular type of object (i.e., the model-being) and this is shown by some character that each statement in  Point also recognised by Bryan (2012, 120).  It is worth recalling the occurrence of ἀκριβὲς at 38b3. Arguably, in the prologue, the lack of ἀκρίβεια is due to the object’s nature (the generated cosmos), whereas at 38b3 the lack of ἀκρίβεια might be caused by the mismatch between tensed/tenseless expressions and types of objects. 33 34

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the account has. Conversely, a likely account cannot ultimately guarantee perfect consistency because of its object and this again is shown by some character each statement making up the account has. As for the term ἐξηγηταί, Burnyeat’s seminal paper (2005) has prompted some discussion. His contention is that the term is used in contexts where a religious message is being delivered (e.g., oracles or rituals) and the ἐξηγητής plays a key role in conveying and explicating it. This contention has been narrowed down by Betegh, who maintains that a more secularised meaning of the term is quite common and could perfectly fit the context.35 Furthermore, Regali has drawn attention to the meaning of the term with regard to poetry and interpretation of poetic texts.36 The meaning of ἐξηγητής should then be understood in relation to the lexicon of μίμησις, both the iconic relation between model and likeness and the one between the history of the cosmos and Timaeus’ μῦθος. Before giving my own interpretation, I need to discuss the term συγγενής.37 Bryan (2012, pp. 123–7) has correctly pointed out that the συγγένεια relation cannot be just the indication of a subject-matter such that “a λόγος is συγγενής of the model” only means that it speaks about the model. It must also share some aspect of the entity it speaks about. This is recognised by Bryan (2012, p. 123 n. 28), when she translates the term with the genitive with “kin of ” instead of just “akin to” or “of like kind”.38 In fact, the notion of συγγένεια plays an important and, to tell the truth, underestimated, role in Plato’s epistemology. In a nutshell, the idea is that there is a kinship between the soul and the real being.39 This commonality of nature relates soul and being in such a way that they fit with each other. For instance, consider the occurrences at Ti. 47b8 and d2: the

 Betegh (2010, pp. 216–217).  Regali (2012, pp. 107–108). 37  For a more recent, very detailed and technical account of the figure of the Athenian ἐξηγηταί with a focus on the history of Athenian legislation and customs and an extended discussion of the critical literature, cf. Pepe (2016–2017). 38  On which, cf. also the convincing remarks by Mourelatos (2010, pp. 231–233). 39  See Phd. 79d1–5; Resp. 490a–b; 518b–c; 611e. On this, cf. Aronadio (2002) and Giovannetti (2021). 35 36

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intelligence in the heavens is kin of our own thought and therefore we can reproduce the orderly motion of the heavens within us.40 In the passage on λόγοι being συγγενεῖς, the point seems to be slightly different insofar as Timaeus is claiming that a character of, say, the model is shared by the λόγος referring to it (e.g., stability), but this also applies to λόγοι speaking of epistemically inferior entities such as becoming things (e.g., likenesses make λόγοι about them only likely). However, in subsection 2.1 we saw that there is a sort of asymmetry between some objects that are naturally related to λόγος insofar as they are graspable by means of understanding accompanied by λόγος, and those objects which are graspable through δόξα (which is linguistic) accompanied by perception, which is ἄλογος. This prompts us to recognise that λόγος is by nature kin of a specific type of object (i.e., being) in a way that is reminiscent of the συγγένεια of other dialogues such as the Phaedo and the Republic or later in the Timaeus. Be that as it may, I wish now to give my interpretation of the term ἐξηγητής in this context. The key semantical factor, I submit, is that λόγοι are in some way informative about what they are of, and this requires that they have a kinship with their object. In this way, ἐξηγητής would be something like “being an advisor or guide” or “showing the way”.41 In other words, there is something in the λόγοι that “shows the way” to what they speak about. My question is: is this showing the way something that affects the form of the λόγοι one thinks or utters? Let us look at what follows in the text: τοῦ μὲν οὖν μονίμου καὶ βεβαίου καὶ μετὰ νοῦ καταφανοῦς μονίμους καὶ ἀμεταπτώτους. The most sensible reading is to take τοῦ μὲν οὖν μονίμου καὶ βεβαίου καὶ μετὰ νοῦ καταφανοῦς as what the λόγοι are ἐξηγηταί of and μονίμους καὶ ἀμεταπτώτους as the traits the λόγοι inherit from their object, in this case being, as a consequence of their συγγένεια. The hendiadys μονίμου καὶ βεβαίου is clear; it is a redoublement of the sort “firm and stable”. It is not clear, though, if by the two terms Timaeus is conveying slightly different aspects of the same object. The phrase μετὰ νοῦ καταφανοῦς is  Cf. also Ti. 89a3.  This is consistent with the main conclusion of the detailed study by Pepe (2016–2017): the ἐξηγηταί’s duty was to indicate and disclose sacred law and not to interpret how to apply it in a trial. 40 41

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very important. To begin with, καταφανής literally means “manifest” or “in sight”. So, the point is not just that these stable objects are understandable, but rather that they can only be manifest μετὰ νοῦ. This complement is key and should not be taken as merely instrumental. These objects can only be manifest when they are “together with the νοῦς”, which means that they can only be found within the exercise of thought. This provides more evidence for my reading of μετὰ λόγου at 28a1. Once faced with such objects, λόγοι are μονίμους καὶ ἀμεταπτώτους. Again, we have two close terms, whose overall sense is clear.42 It is worth making explicit that this point is strictly coherent with eternal being at 37e5: we have a firm and stable object that never changes, which implies that it is outside the domain of becoming. Consistently, this object can be manifest exclusively to thought as only becoming things can be perceived. Given this type of object we possibly obtain stable and unchanging λόγοι. This is precisely what happens with tenseless “is” statements: the “is” befits a type of object entirely alien to any becoming, which semantically gives rise to an always-or-never answer. Hence, if the statement or account (understood as a set of statements) is true, it will, by nature, always be true, or to put it better it will be true independently of time. This may sound unsurprising. After all, eternity is attributed to the model-being and in these lines of the proemium we are talking precisely about that. However, making this connection between the proemium and the passage on eternity and tenselessness explicit could shed new light on the meaning of ἐξηγηταί. The informative-interpreting nature of λόγοι in relation to what they speak about could determine their form as well. If I speak according to nature, when I use the tenseless “is”, my statements and accounts are already giving some information about the type of truth I am aiming at when I speak. In this sense, the λόγοι are “guides” because: (i) they are the only way to access being (we cannot rely on extra-linguistic faculties such as perception to get in contact with being); (ii) being and thought/  Somewhat speculatively, we could perhaps consider the first term as meaning the fact that when speaking of being there is a firm reference which never passes away and the second term as meaning that the truth value of a true description of being never changes. 42

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language essentially fit with each other as a consequence of (i); (iii) depending on the different domains of objects they speak about, λόγοι assume different forms, namely tenseless or tensed.43 When they speak about the model correctly, they are firm and unchangeable. This is further explained as follows: it belongs to such λόγοι to be as irrefutable and invincible as is possible (καϑ’ ὅσον οἷόν τε ἀνελέγκτοις προσήκει λόγοις εἶναι καὶ ἀνικήτοις). Precisely this is granted by tenseless truths: if I assume for instance that human being is a form, if I speak of this object, which can only be found by thinking, and I assert that it is a rational animal, what I say is either always or never true regardless of when I say it or of what particular human beings do within time. It just is what it is. Accordingly, if I speak of becoming things I ought to use tensed expressions that make clear the temporal constituency of the thing and result in a type of discourse, whether it be merely likely or reasonable or plausible, that cannot be for its very form and functioning as irrefutable as the former.44 The sense of the final proportion ὅτιπερ πρὸς γένεσιν οὐσία, τοῦτο πρὸς πίστιν ἀλήϑεια at Ti. 29c3 could then be interpreted as follows: just like generated things, which are in time, can never enjoy the eternity and self-identity of forms, whatever truth concerning things in time can never enjoy the always-or-never truth (ἀλήθεια here must be in the strong sense of timelessly true) expressed by the tenseless “is”. One could wonder: if λόγοι are guides insofar as they are kin of what they speak about in such a way as to affect their form, how is it that the tenseless “is” and tensed phrases are mostly employed imprecisely (Ti. 38b3)? More generally, does saying that λόγοι are kin of what they are  Cf. Ti. 59c7 where Timaeus speaks of the idea of likely discourses.  I cannot expand upon the reason why Plato does not consider tensed truth as eternal as we tend to do nowadays. Owen (1966) complains that Plato leads back the eternity of truths to the changelessness of the objects one could speak about. As masterfully shown by Hintikka (1967), this is precisely the point: Plato and Aristotle start from ontological and semantical assumptions that are quite different from our current theories. In other words, “Theaetetus is sitting at t1” cannot be an eternal truth for Plato because its object changes and there is no concept of proposition qua objective content of sentences to appeal to. This is the reason why I partially disagree with Goldin (1998, p. 133), who claims that time gives an objective frame to give a sequential order to becoming things and processes. Of course, at 37d time is a measure of an orderly motion, but this is not the same as the degree of irrefutability deriving from the tenseless “is” when speaking of eternal being, about which Goldwin himself (p. 34) declares “an intelligible truth is not the sort of thing that can be correlated with a clock reading”. 43 44

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guides of, so much so as to even have different forms (i.e., tenseless or tensed), imply that every time one just speaks about a type of object her λόγος obtains the respective character? To put it simply, is it enough for me to speak about forms to get an irrefutable account or about becoming things to get a likely account? I think this issue has been convincingly dealt with by Burnyeat (2005, pp. 150–152), who claims that Timaeus is not providing a classification of λόγοι. Rather, he is saying how one should distinguish accounts as sets of statements by providing a standard that they should live up to. This represents a further proof of the importance of the statement μέγιστον δὴ παντὸς ἄρξασϑαι κατὰ φύσιν ἀρχήν at Ti. 29b2–3 and the consequent occurrence of διοριστέον. Timaeus’ claim seems to be that it is the very structure of reality that establishes when λόγοι are used correctly. When this is the case λόγοι give cognitive results that come directly from the nature of what they speak about. We have reasons for thinking, I believe, that for Plato this is so true that λόγοι reflect, within their own constitution and form through tenseless and tensed expressions, the crucial importance of the relation between their object and time.45 Acknowledgements  I wish to thank Silvia De Bianchi for inviting me to contribute to this volume, Viktor Ilievski for his editorial support, and Francesco Aronadio, Francesca Alesse and Anna Pavani for their helpful comments.

 Of course, my statement is meant to refer to the standard cases of speaking forms or of sensible particulars. When it comes to Timaeus’ own λόγος on the generation of the universe, the matter is much more complex and requires a more nuanced reading such as the one provided by Petrucci (forthcoming). The main idea of the paper, as I understand it, is that Timaeus’ λόγος, just like a living being, consists of many different parts allowing for many degrees of certainty and stability, where the more a given part deals with an intelligible entity, the epistemically stabler it is. This does not conflict with my reading of tenseless talk of forms; in fact, the latter fits well with the degrees of certainty view by providing the best standard for what is eternally true. What is more, Petrucci also claims that just as the universe described by Timaeus has some indubitable aspects such as the demiurge being good and some minor aspects that could be different such as empirical facts concerning particulars or the existence of very trivial entities, e.g., hair and dirt, so also is Timaeus’ λόγος to be regarded as being for some part necessary and for some other modifiable. This is worth mentioning as appears to be one further side of the kinship between discourse and reality, which thus proves to be a very rich and complex matter. 45

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Timaeus Today, ed. R.D. Mohr and B. Sattler, 225–247. Las Vegas: Parmenides Publishing. O’Brien, Denis. 2005. La forma del non essere nel Sofista di Platone. In Eidos-­ Idea. Platone, Aristotele e la tradizione platonica, ed. W. Leszl and F. Fronterotta, 115–160. Sankt Augustin: Academia Verlag. ———. 1985. Temps et éternité dans la philosophie grecque. In Mythes et representations du temps, ed. D. Tiffeneau, 50–86. Paris: Éditiones du CNRS. Owen, Gwilym E.L. 1965. The Place of the Timaeus in Plato’s Dialogues. In Studies in Plato’s Metaphysics, ed. R.E. Allen, 313–338. London-New York: Routledge. ———. 1966. Plato and Parmenides on the Timeless Present. The Monist L: 317–340. Patterson, R. 1985. On the Eternality of Platonic Forms, Archiv für Geschichte der Philosophie 65: 27–46. Pepe, Laura 2016–2017. Osservazioni sul ruolo e sulla funzione degli esegeti ateniesi. Dike 19/20: 51–81. Petrucci, Federico M. 2022. Commento. In Ferrari, Franco, and Petrucci, Federico M. Platone. Timeo. Milano: Lorenzo Valla. ———. Forthcoming. A living reasonable account: On the Status of Timaeus’ Eikōs Logos (Again). Journal of Hellenic Studies. Regali, Mario. 2012. Il poeta e il demiurgo. Teoria e prassi della produzione letteraria nel “Timeo” e nel “Crizia” di Platone. Sankt Augustin: Academia Verlag. Runia, David. 1997. The Literary and Philosophical Status of Timaeus’ Prooemium. In Interpreting the Timaeus – Critias, ed. T. Calvo and L. Brisson, 101–118. Sankt Augustin: Academia Verlag. Sattler, Barbara. 2010. A Time for Learning and for Counting: Egyptians, Greeks, and Empirical Processes in the Plato’s Timaeus. In One Book, the Whole Universe: Plato’s Timaeus Today, ed. R.D. Mohr and B. Sattler, 249–266. Las Vegas: Parmenides Publishing. Táran, Luca. 1979. Perpetual Duration and Atemporal Eternity in Parmenides and Plato. The Monist LXII: 43–53. Taylor, Alfred E. 1928. A Commentary on Plato’s “Timaeus”. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Thein, Karel. 2021. Planets and Time: A Timaean Puzzle. In Plato’s “Timaeus”. Proceedings of the Tenth Symposium Platonicum Pragense, ed. C.  Jorgenson, F. Karfik, and Š. Špinka, 92–111. Leiden: Brill.

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Vázquez, Daniel. 2022. Before the Creation of Time in Plato’s Timaeus. In Time and Cosmology in Plato and the Platonic Tradition, ed. D. Vázquez and A. Ross, 111–133. Leiden: Brill. Waterfield, Robert. 2008. Plato. Timaeus and Critias. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Whittaker, John. 1968. The Eternity of the Platonic Forms. Phronesis XIII: 131–144. Zeyl, David J. 2000. Plato. “Timaeus”. Indianapolis-Cambridge: Hackett Publishing.

5 Psychogony: Did Plato’s World Soul Come into Being (in Time)? Laura Marongiu

1 Introduction The creation story expounded in Plato’s Timaeus has been the subject of great controversy from the early Academy up to nowadays. In modern times, as much as in antiquity, there has been a wide, polarised disagreement over the question of whether Timaeus’ account of the

L. Marongiu (*) University of Milan, Milan, Italy e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 V. Ilievski et al. (eds.), Plato on Time and the World, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-28198-3_5

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generation of the universe should be taken literally or not.1 It is not my intention to take a position on this long-standing debate, but rather to view it from the special angle of the World Soul. To ask whether creation occurs in time is a riddle as to the cosmos’ body, but turns out to be even more puzzling when it comes to the World Soul. Given that in some Platonic passages “being generated” implies “being corporeal” and “being perishable”, it is perplexing indeed to ascribe a temporal beginning to the World Soul, an entity which—though not being a Form but something ontologically intermediate between the sensible and the intelligible realm—is conceived of by Plato as eminently invisible and as immortal.2 By taking Timaeus 34b10–35a1 as a starting point for the investigation of psychogony, two interwoven questions will be approached, namely whether the World Soul’s creation takes place in time and whether its priority with respect to the cosmos’ body should be understood in chronological terms. In addressing these questions, my aim is not primarily to defend or to reject the thesis of a temporal creation of the World Soul, but rather to discuss the various issues that this account raises, both within the Timaeus and in the light of other dialogues, such as the Republic, the Phaedrus and the Laws. As we will see, in some cases the non-literal reading is far preferable to the literal one; in other cases, both readings are in principle admissible; in others still, both prove to be equally problematic. In what follows, I shall first present Plato’s account of the World Soul’s “birth”, according to which the World Soul has come to be and is older  The non-literal reading received widespread consensus in ancient times and was defended, among others, by Speusippus, Xenocrates, Heraclides Ponticus, Crantor, Eudorus of Alexandria, Apuleius, Severus, Taurus, Plotinus, Porphyry and Proclus. On the other hand, champions of the literal interpretation include Aristotle and other Peripatetics, Plutarch, Atticus, Harpocration and Numenius. A thorough overview of this debate in antiquity and Late Antiquity is offered by Baltes (1976–1978, vol. 1). In modern times, the non-literal reading has been defended by Taylor (1928); Cornford (1997 [1935]); Cherniss (1946 [1944]); Tarán (1972); Brisson (1998 [1974]); Baltes (1999 [1996]); Dillon (2017 [1997]). On the other hand, the most authoritative studies in defence of the literal reading of Timaeus’ creation myth include Vlastos (1939); Vlastos (1965); Hackforth (1959); Robinson (1972 [1968]); Robinson (1995 [1970]); Vallejo (1997); Sedley (2007); Broadie (2012); Vázquez (2022). A more nuanced reading is put forward by Johansen (2008 [2004]). For further references, see Vlastos (1939, p.  71, fn. 1); Cherniss (1946 [1944], p.  424, fn. 357); Hackforth (1959, p. 17); Baltes (1999 [1996], pp. 303–304, fn. 3); Petrucci and Ferrari (2022, p. XXXV, fn. 1). 2  See, e.g., Men. 86a-b; Phd. 69e-77d; 78b-80b; 102b-107b; Resp. X. 608d-611a; Phdr. 245c-246a. 1

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than the body of the universe (Sect. 2). In a second step, I shall address some problems arising from this account, such as the World Soul’s relation to the creation of the cosmos and of time, as well as to the explanation of motion in the pre-cosmic state (Sect. 3). In addition, special attention will be devoted to the tension between Timaeus’ account of a generated World Soul and the proof of the soul’s immortality expounded in the Phaedrus, where the soul serves as the source of motion and is thus said to be ungenerated (ἀγένητον) (Sect. 4). Finally, I shall show that the non-literal reading of the psychogony is slightly preferable as to the World Soul’s generation and especially as to its priority with respect to the cosmos’ body (Sect. 5).

2 Plato’s Account(s) of the World Soul’s “Birth” Timaeus begins to illustrate the composition of the World Soul (34b10–37c5) after having described the Demiurge’s creation of the cosmos’ body (31b4–34b9). However, as he himself emphasises, the order of exposition does not reflect the chronological sequence of creation: for the World Soul is generated before the body.3 It is with this “curious little apology”,4 then, that Timaeus brings the World Soul onto the stage: Τὴν δὲ δὴ ψυχὴν οὐχ ὡς νῦν ὑστέραν ἐπιχειροῦμεν λέγειν, οὕτως ἐμηχανήσατο καὶ ὁ θεὸς νεωτέραν—οὐ γὰρ ἂν ἄρχεσθαι πρεσβύτερον ὑπὸ νεωτέρου συνέρξας εἴασεν—ἀλλά πως ἡμεῖς πολὺ μετέχοντες τοῦ προστυχόντος τε καὶ εἰκῇ ταύτῃ πῃ καὶ λέγομεν, ὁ δὲ καὶ γενέσει καὶ ἀρετῇ προτέραν καὶ πρεσβυτέραν ψυχὴν σώματος ὡς δεσπότιν καὶ ἄρξουσαν ἀρξομένου συνεστήσατο ἐκ τῶνδέ τε καὶ τοιῷδε τρόπῳ.

 An analogous lack of correspondence between the order of narration and that of creation can be observed in the case of time. Whereas time has come to be together with the sensible cosmos (Ti. 38b6–7), its generation is approached by Timaeus after that of the World Soul (37d3 ff.). For further cases in point in which the order of exposition does not follow the actual cosmogonic sequence, cf., e.g., Ti. 48a7–b3; 48e2–49a4. 4  Dillon (2017 [1997], p. 39). 3

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As for the world’s soul, even though we are now embarking on an account of it after we’ve already given an account of its body, it isn’t the case that the god devised it to be younger than the body. For the god would not have united them and then allow the elder to be ruled by the younger. We have a tendency to be casual and random in our speech, reflecting, no doubt, the whole realm of the casual and random of which we are a part. The god, however, gave priority and seniority to the soul, both in its coming to be and in the degree of its excellence, to be the body’s mistress and to rule over it as her subject. The components from which he made the soul and the way in which he made it were as follows. (Ti. 34b10–35a1, translated by D. J. Zeyl)5

As pointed out in this passage, even if the World Soul’s composition is described after that of the cosmos’ body, the former came into being before the latter. As Timaeus explains, the fact that the order of exposition does not follow the actual sequence of events is due to the limitations imposed by language: for speech is “casual and random” and is akin to the sensible realm we belong to (34c2–4). Whatever may be Plato’s intention behind the choice of reversing the order of narration,6 it is a fact that the reader’s attention is immediately drawn towards the World Soul’s priority. The main reason given in the text for justifying this anteriority is the fact that the soul rules over the body and must be conceived of as its mistress. Since, according to Timaeus, the older cannot be ruled by the younger (34c1–2),7 the World Soul must be prior (προτέραν) to and older (πρεσβυτέραν) than the body (34c4–5). What is striking is that the  All Plato translations are drawn from Cooper and Hutchinson (1997). The translators of the individual dialogues are mentioned in the footnotes or in brackets. 6  Robinson (1995 [1970], p.  65) and Baltes (1999 [1996], pp.  308–309) maintain that Plato reverses the order of exposition for didactic purposes (cf. Procl. In Ti. II. 113.19–114.14). According to Cherniss (1946 [1944], pp. 424–425), Tarán (1972, pp. 373–375; 378; 384; 390) and Dillon (2017 [1997], pp. 39–40), the reversion of the order of narration is a device deliberately chosen by Plato to signal that the Timaeus’ myth should not be taken literally. Contra Vlastos (1965, p. 406) and Broadie (2012, p. 253 and fn. 22). An alternative explanation of the reversal of the order is put forward by Johansen (2008 [2004], p. 195). 7  On the soul ruling over the body, see also Grg. 465c7–d1; Phd. 79e8–80a9; 94b4–94e7; Leg. X. 896c1–4. Cf. also Epin. 980d6–e3; on the supremacy of the World Soul in the Epinomis, see Dillon (2020). For the widespread view that the old must rule over the young—which, as Vlastos (1939, p. 81 and fn. 4) notes, is “a deep-rooted ethical and political dogma” of antiquity—see, e.g., Resp. III. 412b8–c4. 5

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World Soul is said to be prior not only in terms of “excellence” (ἀρετῇ), i.e., on an axiological level, but also in terms of generation (γενέσει 34c4). Given the ambivalence of the term γένεσις, Timaeus’ claim may suggest either that the World Soul possesses ontological priority or that it indeed came to be earlier in chronological terms. The same ambiguity also occurs in Ti. 36e5–6, where Timaeus claims that “the visible body of the universe on the one hand and the invisible soul on the other had come to be (γέγονεν)”. In the present case too, the text says that the World Soul is somehow generated, but leaves the question open as to whether such generation takes place in time or not, since the term γέγονεν (36e6) is ambivalent8 and may be read literally or metaphorically. Before turning to discuss the implications of this ambiguity, it is worth recalling that both the generation of the soul and its priority with respect to the body are also addressed in the Laws in rather similar terms. This can be gleaned from Leg. XII. 967b6–c1, where the Athenian denies the mistaken opinion of certain thinkers who, having regarded the soul “as a recent creation”, “turned the universe upside down”. Similarly, in Laws X, the Athenian complains about the widespread ignorance about the soul with these words: {ΑΘ.} Ψυχήν, ὦ ἑταῖρε, ἠγνοηκέναι κινδυνεύουσι μὲν ὀλίγου σύμπαντες οἷόν τε ὂν τυγχάνει καὶ δύναμιν ἣν ἔχει, τῶν τε ἄλλων αὐτῆς πέρι καὶ δὴ καὶ γενέσεως, ὡς ἐν πρώτοις ἐστί, σωμάτων ἔμπροσθεν πάντων γενομένη, καὶ μεταβολῆς τε αὐτῶν καὶ μετακοσμήσεως ἁπάσης ἄρχει παντὸς μᾶλλον· εἰ δὲ ἔστιν ταῦτα οὕτως, ἆρ' οὐκ ἐξ ἀνάγκης τὰ ψυχῆς συγγενῆ πρότερα ἂν εἴη γεγονότα τῶν σώματι προσηκόντων, οὔσης γ' αὐτῆς πρεσβυτέρας ἢ σώματος; {ΚΛ.} Ἀνάγκη. ATHENIAN: It’s the soul, my good friend, that nearly everybody seems to have misunderstood, not realizing its nature and power. Quite apart from the other points about it, people are particularly ignorant about its birth. It is one of the first creations, born long before all physical things, and is the chief cause of all their alterations and transformations. Now if that’s true,  Cf. Ti. 28b7 and, notably, the study by Baltes (1999 [1996]).

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anything closely related to soul will necessarily have been created before material things, won’t it, since soul itself is older than matter? CLINIAS: Necessarily. (Leg. X. 892a2–b2, translated by G. R. Morrow)

While in the Timaeus the priority of the soul is traced back to its role of ruling over the body, in the Laws an additional explanation is provided: the soul, which is endowed with self-motion, is prior because it is the cause of all bodily change (Leg. X.  892a6–7). As is confirmed more emphatically a few pages later, it is because it is the source of all motion and change that the soul is “the most ancient thing there is” (τῶν πάντων πρεσβυτάτη) and must thus be prior to the body (Leg. X. 896a5–896b3). Leaving aside the differences between the accounts given in the Timaeus and the Laws, to which I shall briefly return later, the main claims made in the texts examined so far can be summarised as follows. First, the soul has come to be.9 Second, the soul precedes the body not only in terms of dignity, but also in terms of generation.10 The World Soul’s generation in time and its chronological priority raise several issues. The remaining part of the paper will be devoted to a discussion of some of them. As we shall see, some of these issues emerge by reading Ti. 34b10–35a1 against other passages of the Timaeus and by viewing the World Soul’s generation in the light of that of the cosmos and of time. A further layer of complexity is added if Timaeus’ narration is read against the accounts of the soul given by Plato in other dialogues, such as the Laws and the Phaedrus.

3 World Soul, Cosmos, Time and Motion As we have seen so far, Timaeus speaks of the World Soul as having been generated. It is noteworthy, however, that whereas the World Soul has some sort of beginning, it has no end. As we read in Ti. 36e4–5, the World Soul “initiated a divine beginning of unceasing, intelligent life for all time (πρὸς τὸν σύμπαντα χρόνον)”. The same holds true for the cosmos’ body and time: for they too are said to be both generated and  Ti. γέγονεν 36e6; Leg. X. γενέσεως 892a4; γενομένη 892a5; γεγονότα 892a8.  Ti. 34c4–5; Leg. X. 892a7–b1; 896a5–896b3; 967b6–c2.

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imperishable. As far as the cosmos is concerned, we are clearly told that “it has come to be” (γέγονεν 28b7),11 but that, “having come together into a unity with itself, it could not be undone (ἄλυτον) by anyone but the one who had bound it together” (32c2–4). Briefly put, the cosmos “has been, is, and shall be (γεγονώς τε καὶ ὢν καὶ ἐσόμενος) for all time, forevermore (διὰ τέλους τὸν ἅπαντα χρόνον)” (38c2–3). Finally, no different is the case of time, which “came to be (γέγονεν) together with the universe so that just as they were begotten (γεννηθέντες) together, they might also be undone together, should there ever be an undoing (λύσις) of them” (38b6–7).12 At first sight, this account may seem uncontroversial, but it turns out to be problematic in the light of the well-known Platonic principle according to which everything that comes to be will perish. The most explicit exposition of this principle occurs in Republic VIII, where it is laid out by the Homeric Muses in their speech on political decline. Before appealing to mathematics and to the enigmatic “geometric number”, the Muses explain the dissolution of the best political order by means of the following general principle: “everything that comes into being must decay” (γενομένῳ παντὶ φθορά ἐστιν Resp. VIII. 546a2).13 Accordingly, since it has come into being, even Kallipolis will not last forever, but sooner or later will face dissolution, like everything else that has come into being. In the light of this principle, how are we to make sense of the fact that the World Soul, the cosmos and time are generated but imperishable? A possible way to answer this question is to regard them as imperishable sui generis. In favour of this hypothesis, it could be argued that the Demiurge’s creatures are imperishable not in absolute terms, but in virtue of his will. As the Demiurge himself declares, whatever has come to be because he thus wished it to, will not perish: Θεοὶ θεῶν, ὧν ἐγὼ δημιουργὸς πατήρ τε ἔργων, δι' ἐμοῦ γενόμενα ἄλυτα ἐμοῦ γε μὴ ἐθέλοντος. τὸ μὲν οὖν δὴ δεθὲν πᾶν λυτόν, τό γε μὴν καλῶς ἁρμοσθὲν καὶ ἔχον εὖ λύειν ἐθέλειν κακοῦ.  Cf. Ti. 29e4; 30c1; 36e6; 37c7; 92c8.  For a more complete discussion of the generation of time, see Vázquez and Petrucci in this volume. 13  Translated by G.M.A. Grube, rev. C.D.C. Reeve. Concerning this principle, see also Ti. 28a-c and Petrucci’s remark in this volume, p. 113. 11 12

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O gods, works divine whose maker and father I am, whatever has come to be by my hands cannot be undone but by my consent. Now while it is true that anything that is bound is liable to being undone, still, only one who is evil would consent to the undoing of what has been well fitted together and is in fine condition. (Ti. 41a7–b2, translated by D. J. Zeyl)

It goes without saying that since the Demiurge is good and free of envy (Ti. 29a2–6; e1–2; e6–7), nothing he has created will ever undergo corruption. At any rate, on the basis of this assumption the Demiurge’s creatures would be imperishable not in virtue of their own nature, but chiefly because of his choice. While this kind of immortality may be appropriate for generated entities endowed with sensible bodies, it is more problematic to ascribe it to the soul, which is mostly envisaged by Plato as a non-corporeal, invisible, and immortal reality.14 In addition, the fact that Timaeus explicitly labels the World Soul as “invisible” (ἀόρατος Ti. 36e6) is difficult to square with his previous claim, according to which “that which comes to be must have bodily form, and be both visible and tangible” (Ti. 31b4–5). A way to minimise these tensions is to take the World Soul’s generation non-literally. By being ontologically inferior to Forms and by being dependent on the Demiurge’s causal activity, the World Soul would have some sort of beginning which, however, does not occur in time. If read in this way, the account of the World Soul’s generation seems to square more naturally with the general principle mentioned above. The discussion so far has shown that the creation of the World Soul is closely interwoven with that of the cosmos and of time. This emerges even more prominently if we turn our attention to the World Soul’s priority, or “seniority” (34c4–5). The first puzzle concerning the chronological anteriority of the World Soul is the following: if the World Soul is generated before the cosmos, which implies its coming to be before time (38b6–7), how are we to make sense of its being existent for all time (36e4–5)?15 A further difficulty arises from the fact that some bodily material does come into play as an ingredient in the World Soul’s  See Fronterotta (2015 [2003], pp. 77–78 and fn. 79); cf. supra, fn. 2.  On this problem, see Baltes (1999 [1996], pp.  312–313); Fronterotta (2015 [2003], p.  207, fn. 114). 14 15

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composition (35a2–3).16 Now, if body is to some extent presupposed in the World Soul’s composition, it is reasonable to doubt of the soul’s pre-­ existence with respect to it.17 In other words, if the World Soul is intermediate between the sensible and the intelligible realm (35a–b), it must presuppose the two “poles” between which it is intermediate, so that both extremes cannot be said to come into being after it.18 Furthermore, while the anteriority of the World Soul with respect to the cosmos’ body seems to be implied by Ti. 36d8–37a2, which describes how the cosmos is set within a pre-existing soul, a diametrically opposite picture emerges from Ti. 34b3–9, where it is rather the soul that is set in the body.19 These difficulties become less serious if one endorses a non-­temporal reading of the psychogony. What is more, it is particularly interesting to note in this regard that the World Soul’s temporal priority is denied not only by those scholars who deny its temporal beginning,20 but also by some of the most vigorous defenders of the World Soul’s creation in time.21 For the thesis that the universe and the World Soul are coeval, which can be supported within both approaches,22 compels to take the World Soul’s anteriority non-temporally. In other words, although on the ground of opposite readings, the interpreters of both parties are equally committed to a nonliteral reading of the World Soul’s priority if they assume the soul to be coeval with the cosmos.23 A further difficulty in upholding the thesis of the temporal generation of the World Soul lies in establishing when precisely it occurred within the overall process of creation described in the Timaeus. In a seminal study, Matthias Baltes dwells on reconstructing the chronological succession of the stages of creation and struggles to identify the place of  See Karfík (2020, pp. 70 and 73).  Dillon (2017 [1997], p. 39). Objections against this view have been expressed by Broadie (2012, p. 253 and fn. 22). 18  Cherniss (1946 [1944], p. 424); Tarán (1972, p. 375). Contra Vallejo (1997, p. 141). 19  See Tarán (1972, p. 396, n. 47); Karfík (2004, p. 206). 20  Cornford (1997 [1935], p. 59); Cherniss (1946 [1944], p. 424); Tarán (1972, p. 375); Petrucci and Ferrari (2022, pp. LXIV and 277). This reading can be traced back to Proclus’: see infra, fn. 38. 21  Vlastos (1939, p. 81); Hackforth (1959, p. 20); Robinson (1995 [1970], p. 61). 22  See, e.g., Hackforth (1959, p. 21) and Tarán (1972, p. 375 and fn. 47). 23  See, however, Johansen (2008 [2004], pp. 89–90) for a defence of the thesis of the World Soul’s temporal priority. 16 17

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the World Soul’s generation.24 One of the main questions he addresses is whether the pre-cosmic chaos is already ensouled before the Demiurge’s intervention or whether the World Soul’s generation takes place precisely when the Demiurge orders the elements through form and number (Ti. 53b4–5). This question, which Baltes labels as “eine unlösbare Schwierigkeit”,25 becomes even more complex if one considers the relationship between the World Soul and the pre-cosmic chaos by taking into account the Timaeus along with the Laws and the Phaedrus. As is wellknown, in these two dialogues the soul is described as the source of all motion (Phdr. 245c9; Leg. X. 896b1, b3). Such an account raises the question of whether in the Timaeus too the World Soul should be regarded as the cause of all motion, including the disorderly motion which takes place in the pre-cosmic state.26 On the one hand, if the World Soul is both generated in time and is conceived of as the source of motion within the created world,27 it is hard to explain how pre-cosmic motion originates. On the other hand, the claim that the World Soul pre-exists the Demiurge’s ordering activity and is responsible for disorderly motion may lead to the problematic outcome of it being an irrational force and the source of cosmic evil.28 As a result, in this case both the literal and the  Baltes (1999 [1996], pp. 305–307).  Baltes (1999 [1996], p. 306, fn. 9). 26  For the thesis that disorderly motion must be somehow animated by the soul, see, e.g., Cornford (1997 [1935], pp. 176; 205); Cherniss (1944 [1946], p. 448); Cherniss (1954). For the opposite view, i.e., that pre-cosmic motion has no psychic origin, see, e.g., Vlastos (1939, pp.  77–78); Easterling (1967, pp.  30 and 32); Parry (2002, pp.  297–299); Jelinek (2011, p.  300); Ilievski (2013, pp.  43–45); Karfík (2020, pp.  75–76); Petrucci and Ferrari (2022, pp. CI-CII); Araújo (p. 174, fn. 38) and Ilievski (p. 189 and fn. 38) in this volume. 27  According to Vlastos (1939, pp. 77–83), it is possible to reconcile the account given in Laws X with the literal reading of the Timaeus by assuming that in the latter the World Soul is the source of motion within the ordered universe generated by the Demiurge. According to this interpretation, the World Soul is not the source of disorderly motion, but only of the motion occurring “within the created universe” (p. 81). Contra Cherniss (1946 [1944], p. 427, fn. 362); for a critical discussion of Vlastos’ thesis, see also Mohr (1980). Although Vlastos himself later abandoned this thesis, no longer believing that a reconciliation between the Timaeus and Laws X is possible (see Vlastos 1965), the views which he had expounded in 1939 have found several followers: see, e.g., Hackforth (1959); Easterling (1967); Robinson (1995 [1970], pp. 95–97); Vallejo (1997, p. 146); Jelinek (2011, p. 301); Ilievski (2013, p. 46). 28  See Plut. De an. proc. 1014E; 1015E; Cornford (1997 [1935], pp. 176; 197; 205; 209–210); Cherniss (1954, pp. 27–29). The problematic implications of this thesis are articulated by Ilievski (2013, pp. 37–43). 24 25

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metaphorical reading of the World Soul’s generation solve certain issues but raise just as many difficulties. In this sense, Vallejo is justified in maintaining that this “will probably remain one of the riddles of Platonic research”.29 Let us now turn to an even more perplexing riddle. This emerges, as in the previous case, by reading the psychogony as is portrayed in the Timaeus against the accounts of the soul given in other dialogues. As we shall see, this riddle calls for special attention because it encompasses not only an incoherence, but rather a seemingly patent contradiction.

4 Generated or Ungenerated? Reading the Timaeus in the Light of the Phaedrus The psychogony narrated in the Timaeus is not easy to square—at least on the face of it—with the Phaedrus, where the soul is explicitly said not to be subject to generation (ἀγένητον 246a1). This claim occurs in the famous passage concerning the demonstration of the soul’s immortality: Ψυχὴ πᾶσα ἀθάνατος. τὸ γὰρ ἀεικίνητον ἀθάνατον […]. μόνον δὴ τὸ αὑτὸ κινοῦν, ἅτε οὐκ ἀπολεῖπον ἑαυτό, οὔποτε λήγει κινούμενον, ἀλλὰ καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις ὅσα κινεῖται τοῦτο πηγὴ καὶ ἀρχὴ κινήσεως. ἀρχὴ δὲ ἀγένητον. ἐξ ἀρχῆς γὰρ ἀνάγκη πᾶν τὸ γιγνόμενον γίγνεσθαι, αὐτὴν δὲ μηδ' ἐξ ἑνός· εἰ γὰρ ἔκ του ἀρχὴ γίγνοιτο, οὐκ ἂν ἔτι ἀρχὴ γίγνοιτο. ἐπειδὴ δὲ ἀγένητόν ἐστιν, καὶ ἀδιάφθορον αὐτὸ ἀνάγκη εἶναι […]. ἀθανάτου δὲ πεφασμένου τοῦ ὑφ' ἑαυτοῦ κινουμένου, ψυχῆς οὐσίαν τε καὶ λόγον τοῦτον αὐτόν τις λέγων οὐκ αἰσχυνεῖται. πᾶν γὰρ σῶμα, ᾧ μὲν ἔξωθεν τὸ κινεῖσθαι, ἄψυχον, ᾧ δὲ ἔνδοθεν αὐτῷ ἐξ αὑτοῦ, ἔμψυχον, ὡς ταύτης οὔσης φύσεως ψυχῆς· εἰ δ' ἔστιν τοῦτο οὕτως ἔχον, μὴ ἄλλο τι εἶναι τὸ αὐτὸ ἑαυτὸ κινοῦν ἢ ψυχήν, ἐξ ἀνάγκης ἀγένητόν τε καὶ ἀθάνατον ψυχὴ ἂν εἴη. Every soul is immortal. That is because whatever is always in motion is immortal […]. So it is only what moves itself that never desists from motion, since it does not leave off being itself. In fact, this self-mover is also 29

 Vallejo (1997, p. 146).

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the source and spring of motion in everything else that moves; and a source has no beginning. That is because anything that has a beginning comes from some source, but there is no source for this, since a source that got its start from something else would no longer be the source. And since it cannot have a beginning, then necessarily it cannot be destroyed […]. But since we have found that a self-mover is immortal, we should have no qualms about declaring that this is the very essence and principle of a soul, for every bodily object that is moved from outside has no soul, while a body whose motion comes from within, from itself, does have a soul, that being the nature of a soul; and if this is so—that whatever moves itself is essentially a soul—then it follows necessarily that soul should have neither birth nor death. (Phdr. 245c5–246a2, translated by A.  Nehamas and P. Woodruff)

In this passage, Socrates puts forward the claim “every soul is immortal” (ψυχὴ πᾶσα30 ἀθάνατος 245c5) as a starting point, and then provides a demonstration of it. The steps of the argument can be briefly summarised as follows.31 The soul is both self-moving and a source of motion for everything else. Since it is a source (ἀρχή), it has no beginning (ἀγένητον)—if it did, it would no longer be a source. From the fact that the soul has no beginning it necessarily follows that the soul cannot be destroyed. Therefore, the soul must be both ungenerated and imperishable. Now, while in the Phaedrus the soul is ungenerated, in the Timaeus it has come to be. How are we to deal with this apparent inconsistency? While several attempts have been made to reconcile the Timaeus with the doctrine of the soul expounded in Laws X,32 it seems harder to harmonise the creation story of the Timaeus with the account given in the Phaedrus—indeed, according to some scholars, it is impossible to do so.33 A widespread strategy to deal with this tension is to claim that Plato’s philosophical views underwent a development. A telling example of this  On different ways of interpreting πᾶσα, see Demos (1968, p.  134); Robinson (1972 [1968], p. 345); Blyth (1997, p. 186); Gertz (2020, pp. 88–91). 31  For a detailed reconstruction of this argument, see Robinson (1972 [1968], pp. 345–347); Bett (1986, pp. 3–16); Blyth (1997, pp. 194–201); Karfík (2004, pp. 221–223). 32  Cf. supra, fn. 27. 33  See, e.g., Demos (1968, pp. 143; 145) and Vallejo (1997, p. 146, fn. 21), who holds that “it is possible to reconcile the Timaeus with the Laws but not with the Phaedrus”. 30

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approach is represented by Gregory Vlastos, whose words on the present issue are worth quoting in full: Could anyone claim in all seriousness that Plato thought his reader would be so certain of the immutability of his philosophical views that if they should happen to find him saying p in one work, the mere fact that he had said non-p years earlier in another work would give them to understand that he did not really mean p when he said p in the later work? No one to my knowledge has made such a claim, and I cannot imagine that anyone would.34

In Vlastos’ view, the fact that Plato said that the soul is generated (p) in the Timaeus, and that the soul is ungenerated (non-p) in the Phaedrus, which was written earlier,35 should not lead anyone to doubt that he really meant this generation literally when writing the Timaeus. In short, given that Plato may have changed his mind, it would be absurd to read the Timaeus in the light of the Phaedrus; we should not thus abandon the literal reading of the former in order to reconcile it with the latter. Now, if we look back to the history of Platonism, we do find some interpreters who seem to endorse the approach which Vlastos readily dismisses, and who indeed do so “in all seriousness”. The most relevant case in point is arguably Proclus, who, in defending a non-literal reading of the psychogony, invokes—among other reasons— the need to preserve the agreement between the two dialogues. In his extensive Commentary on the Timaeus, Proclus adduces several arguments to show that the entire creation story expounded in the Timaeus should not be taken at face value. According to Proclus, while it is true that Plato speaks of generation, he “makes it clear even to those whose powers of comprehension are small that he is not puzzling about the question of temporal beginning (περὶ τῆς χρονικῆς ἀρχῆς), but rather about whether, in the light of the many kinds of generation, the universe has  Vlastos (1965, p. 415).  Vlastos is presupposing the traditional order, according to which the Phaedrus precedes the Timaeus. However, see Owen (1953, p. 95), who suggests that backdating the Timaeus minimises the inconsistency between the accounts of the soul given in the two dialogues. On this point, see also Robinson (1972 [1968], p. 349), Robinson (1995 [1970], pp. 103–104) and Vallejo (1997, p. 146, fn. 21). 34 35

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some beginning of generation” (τινὰ γενέσεως ἀρχήν).36 As Proclus warns us, “‘generated’ (γενητόν) belongs to those words which have multiple meanings”, whereby “to have a temporal starting point” is only one of the various meanings that the term can assume (In Ti. I. 279.30–280.7). That “generation” should not be understood in temporal terms holds true, for Proclus, not only for the creation of the universe, but also, specifically, for that of the World Soul: ἔστι δὲ γένεσις ἐπὶ τῆς ψυχῆς οὐχ ἡ κατὰ χρόνον (ἀγένητον γὰρ καὶ ἀνώλεθρον ἔδειξεν ἐν [246 A] τὴν ψυχήν), ἀλλ' ἡ κατ' οὐσίαν πάροδος ἀπὸ τῶν νοητῶν αἰτίων· After all, the birth of the soul is not a temporal one (for the soul was shown to be ungenerated and indestructible in the Phaedrus [246a1]), but rather it proceeds in respect of its essence from intelligible causes. (In Ti. II, 117.11–14, translated by Baltzly 2009)37

As Proclus points out, the γένεσις of the World Soul is to be understood in an ontological rather than chronological sense.38 What is especially striking is that this thesis is stated by appealing to the Phaedrus passage.39 Proclus’ exegetical move thus seems to be the following: since in the Phaedrus the soul is said to be ungenerated, it follows that the World Soul’s generation in the Timaeus should be understood non-­ literally, in the sense of ontological causation and dependency.40 For Proclus, Plato’s dialogues reflect a coherent and unitary philosophical  In Ti. I. 280.15–18, translated by Runia and Share (2008). Cf. In Ti. I, 285.20 ff.  Cf. In Ti. I. 287.18–23. 38  Along the same lines, Proclus interprets the soul’s “seniority” as an ontological priority: “The words senior and younger must not be taken in a temporal sense (κατὰ χρόνον) […], but rather with reference to the order of their essence (τῇ τάξει τῆς οὐσίας). So what is closer to the Demiurge is ‘senior’, but what is further away is ‘younger’” (In Ti. II. 114.33–115.5, translated by Baltzly 2009). See Baltes (1976–1978, vol. 2, pp. 104–109). 39  Proclus’ quotation of the Phaedrus slightly differs from the Platonic text: see Baltzly (2009, p. 75, fn. 50). 40  Baltes (1976–1978, vol. 2, p. 103) rightly observes: “Schon allein die Tatsache, daß Platon vom Entstehen der an sich unentstandenen Seele (Phaidr. 245 CD) spricht, ist nach Proklos ein bedeutsames Argument dafür, daß die genesis im Timaios nicht in der Alltagsbedeutung zu nehmen ist, sondern in einer anderen”. 36 37

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system. Any contradictions which may emerge between different texts are only apparent. If this is the case, Plato’s views on the soul in the Timaeus and in the Phaedrus must be reconcilable. By reading the Timaeus in the light of the Phaedrus, Proclus seems to be doing precisely what Vlastos ruled out. The need to harmonise the two dialogues is also an overarching concern for Plutarch of Chaeronea, who, unlike Proclus, reads Timaeus’ psychogony literally. Plutarch is known to be one of the few ancient Platonists to defend the literal reading,41 as he himself points out.42 In his treatise On the Generation of Soul in the Timaeus,43 which is a commentary on Timaeus 35a1–36b5, he devotes thorough attention to the creation of the World Soul, “what he sees as the core of Plato’s cosmology”.44 Plutarch’s aim is to demonstrate that the psychogony takes place in time. At the same time, he needs to show that the Timaeus and the Phaedrus are in agreement with one another, and that Plato did not contradict himself: οὐδὲ γὰρ σοφιστῇ κραιπαλῶντι, πόθεν γε δὴ Πλάτωνι, τοιαύτην ἄν τις ἀναθείη περὶ οὓς ἐσπουδάκει μάλιστα τῶν λόγων ταραχὴν καὶ ἀνωμαλίαν, ὥστε τὴν αὐτὴν φύσιν ὁμοῦ καὶ ἀγένητον ἀποφαίνειν καὶ γενομένην, ἀγένητον μὲν ἐν Φαίδρῳ (245c. 246a) τὴν ψυχὴν ἐν δὲ Τιμαίῳ (34b sqq.) γενομένην. For one would not attribute even to a drunken sophist and it is nonsense then to attribute to Plato in regard to the doctrines about which he had been most seriously concerned such confusion and capriciousness as to declare of the same entity both that it is unsubject to generation and that it did come to be, in the Phaedrus that the soul is unsubject to generation and in the Timaeus that it came to be. (De an. proc. 1016A, translated by Cherniss 1976)

 Cf. supra, fn. 1.  Plutarch labels his own account as “unusual and paradoxical (ἄηθες [...] καὶ παράδοξον)” (De an. proc. 1014A) and claims that his thesis is “in need of vindication because of its opposition to most of the Platonists” (1012B). 43  For an overview on this treatise, see Cherniss (1976, pp. 133–149); Opsomer (2004); Ferrari and Baldi (2002, pp. 7–59). 44  Opsomer (2004, p. 139). 41 42

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Now, if the World Soul’s generation in the Timaeus is to be understood literally, as he maintains, how are we to square this account with the Phaedrus? Plutarch’s strategy is to draw a distinction between two souls, or more precisely between two different stages of development of the soul,45 i.e., the pre-cosmic one and that after the Demiurge’s intervention. In the former, there is a non-rational pre-cosmic soul, or “soul by itself ” (ψυχὴ καθ’ ἑαυτήν De an. proc. 1014E), which is the source of disorderly motion. After the Demiurge’s intervention, the pre-cosmic soul partakes of “intelligence and reason and rational concord” and becomes “the soul of the universe” (κόσμου ψυχή) (1014E). It is only at this moment that the World Soul can be said to have been generated. While the irrational, pre-cosmic “soul in itself ” corresponds to the ungenerated soul of the Phaedrus, the World Soul proper, which is harmonious, rational and well-­ordered, corresponds to the generated soul of the Timaeus (1016C, 1017A–B). It is by means of this distinction that Plutarch solves the apparent contradiction between the Timaeus and the Phaedrus, without renouncing the literal reading of the Timaeus. As a result, although Plutarch and Proclus ultimately develop two different, and indeed conflicting, readings of the psychogony, they both read Plato by means of Plato and share a common concern, namely, to show that the accounts given in the Timaeus and in the Phaedrus are consistent with one another. Particularly salient for the present discussion is the fact that not only ancient commentators, but also some modern Plato scholars, even without endorsing a unitarian approach, are concerned with the consistency of Plato’s thought. As Dillon convincingly points out, “it is reasonable to seek for consistency on major questions, such as the temporal creation of the world, or the role of soul as the single cause of motion in the universe”, and “it is legitimate to worry about any apparent contradictions on such topics that may appear”,46 especially when these occur in works which are not too distant from the chronological point of view. By following this line of thought, it is worth attempting an

 Opsomer (2004, pp. 143–144).  Dillon (2017 [1997], p. 27; see also p. 38).

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explanation of the tension between the Timaeus and the Phaedrus without assuming that Plato changed his mind. In order to reach this goal, it is not necessary to accept the Neoplatonic assumption that Plato’s dialogues are a fully consistent system and the work of a divinely inspired writer. It may suffice to lay emphasis on the specific contexts from which the two inconsistent claims have been extrapolated.47 In this sense, it may be noted that while both the Phaedrus and the Timaeus address the problem of the “beginning”, they approach it from different perspectives. While the Phaedrus’ argument aims to explain the beginning of motion, the Timaeus is not primarily concerned with this, but rather with the beginning of the whole universe. In other words, by comparing the two dialogues, a shift in focus may be observed. The Phaedrus focuses on the soul as the beginning (of motion), while the Timaeus poses the question of the beginning of the soul as a fundamental component of the whole universe. This being the case, in the Phaedrus the soul, conceived of as a source of motion, cannot but be ungenerated. Now, the assumption that the soul is the ἀρχή of motion does not entail that the soul is the ἀρχή of everything which exists.48 Since the soul is not a Form, it cannot be the source of being and thus cannot be the ultimate ἀρχή.49 This is the reason why, in the Timaeus, the soul is generated. In support of what has just been said, it is helpful to compare two claims respectively made in the Timaeus and in the Phaedrus, whose similarity is striking. The Phaedrus reads: “anything that has a beginning comes from some source” (ἐξ ἀρχῆς γὰρ ἀνάγκη πᾶν τὸ γιγνόμενον γίγνεσθαι) 47  In what follows I am especially indebted to Brisson (1998 [1974], pp.  336–338) and Karfík (2004, pp. 223–226). Although these two studies differ in certain respects (Brisson endorses a non-­ literal reading, while Karfík claims that his reconstruction holds true whether one takes the Timaeus literally or not), they seem to share a common aim and strategy, i.e., to show that the inconsistency is only apparent by laying emphasis on the contexts in which the seemingly contradictory claims appear. 48  A similar line of argument can be found in Hermias (In Phdr. 120.25–121.29, ed. Lucarini and Moreschini, 2012). In his view, Phaedrus’ ungenerated soul should be understood as a principle only with respect to the generation of motion, which by no means implies the soul to be a first principle tout court. On this ground Hermias proves the Phaedrus’ account of the soul to be in substantial agreement not only with the Laws (In Phdr. 112,1–21; 120.19–24), but also with the Timaeus. On Hermias’ argument, see Baltzly and Share (2018, p. 255, fn. 818). 49  See Brisson (1998 [1974], p. 337); Karfík (2004, p. 225); see also Fronterotta (2015 [2003], p. 78, fn. 80).

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(Phdr. 245d1–2). This closely echoes the famous principle stated in Ti. 28a4–5, according to which “everything that comes to be must of necessity come to be by the agency of some cause” (πᾶν δὲ αὖ τὸ γιγνόμενον ὑπ’ αἰτίου τινὸς ἐξ ἀνάγκης γίγνεσθαι). As can be readily noted, the two sentences are identical, except for ἐξ ἀρχῆς (Phdr. 245d1) and ὑπ’ αἰτίου τινὸς (Ti. 28a4). On closer inspection, it is evident that the two passages, while stating the same principle, presuppose two distinct causes. More precisely, while in the Phaedrus the role of ἀρχή was assigned to the soul, in the Timaeus it is assigned to the intelligible paradigm and to the Demiurge, who is explicitly labelled as the most excellent of all causes (ἄριστος τῶν αἰτίων 29a6) and as the most pre-­ eminent principle or cause (ἀρχὴν κυριωτάτην 29e4–30a1). In this sense it could be said that while motion needs the soul in order to be explained, the existence of the soul, in turn, needs the Demiurge and the intelligible world. As a result, while the Timaeus’ and the Phaedrus’ accounts may appear contradictory, their incompatibility turns out to be less serious if one reads them by evaluating their weight within their respective argumentative frameworks.

5 Conclusion The principal aim of this chapter has been to investigate the creation story expounded in the Timaeus from the specific viewpoint of the World Soul. More specifically, two interwoven questions have been explored. First, whether the World Soul’s generation takes place in time; second, whether its priority with respect to the body should be understood in chronological terms. As to the first question, although the literal and the non-literal reading of the psychogony each have their strengths and weaknesses, the latter seems to be slightly preferable. This reading is easier to reconcile with the principle according to which what is imperishable has no beginning (cf. Resp. VIII. 546a2; Ti. 28a–c). Moreover, the non-­ literal reading fits better with the World Soul conceived of as an ontologically intermediate entity between the sensible and the intelligible realm, as well as a non-corporeal and immortal entity (cf. Ti. 31b4–5; 36e6). Conversely, the thesis of the temporal beginning of the World

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Soul poses certain problems when it comes to identifying the precise moment of its generation within the creation of the whole universe. As to the relationship between the World Soul, the beginning of motion and the pre-cosmic state, both the literal and the non-literal approaches to the World Soul’s generation solve some problems but raise just as many difficulties. Finally, the account of the ungenerated soul given in the Phaedrus seems to square more naturally with the non-literal reading of the World Soul’s “birth”, although it seems in principle also compatible with a literal reading of the psychogony. Whereas the controversy between the literal and the metaphorical reading may be left open as to the World Soul’s temporal generation, the latter reading seems to be far more convincing as to the World Soul’s priority with respect to the body. The non-temporal interpretation of Ti. 34b10–35a1, which understands the soul’s “seniority” in the sense of an ontological priority of the soul with respect to the body, is in line with Plato’s account of the relationship between soul and body also elsewhere. It is striking, moreover, that even some of the most vigorous proponents of the literal interpretation, while arguing for the temporal generation of the World Soul, cannot take its priority with respect to the body literally. In this regard, we may recall Vlastos’ words that “chronological priority is hardly more than a vindication of ontological priority” and that “to press it further would be embarrassing in view of the Timaios’ doctrine of time”.50 In the same vein, Hackforth observes that endorsing the literal reading does not imply “accepting all the detail of the construction by the Demiurge of the world’s body and soul as literal fact. Indeed this would, particularly in the case of the soul, be ridiculous”.51 As a result, regardless of which of the two approaches to the creation myth one adopts, it seems that the priority of the soul with respect to the body should be taken non-­ temporally. In either case, the account of the World Soul as the body’s mistress and as a Demiurge’s creature nicely squares with the picture of the World Soul as an intermediate entity which is ontologically prior to the sensible world, but at the same time subordinate to the intelligible paradigms, as well as dependent on the Demiurge’s causal power. 50 51

 Vlastos (1939, p. 81).  Hackforth (1959, p. 20).

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At any rate, in dealing with these questions, the most intriguing aspect is not to provide an ultimate answer, but rather to explore the problems that arise from the World Soul’s creation, as well as to acknowledge its entanglement with the generation of the cosmos and of time, from which it proves to be inseparable. The Platonic texts we have dealt with are undeniably ambiguous and enigmatic, and in many cases they pose questions that are not fully answered no matter which approach one adopts. After all, even Plato’s contemporaries where in sharp disagreement as to how to interpret the Timaeus’ creation story. As scholars have not failed to note,52 this indeed suggests that Plato’s chief aim was to raise problems, to inspire discussions and to encourage his readers to further investigate certain topics. And we cannot say that he failed in this regard. In the end, the task of finding a solution is left to us.53

References Baltes, Matthias. 1976–1978. Die Weltentstehung des Platonischen Timaios nach den antiken Interpreten. 2 Vols. Leiden: Brill. ———. 1999 [1996]. Γέγονεν (Platon, Tim. 28 Β 7). Ist die Welt real entstanden oder nicht? In Dianoēmata: Kleine Schriften zu Platon und zum Platonismus, eds. Annette Hüffmeier, Marie-Luise Lakmann and Matthias Vorwerk, 303–325. Stuttgart, Leipzig: Teubner. Baltzly, Dirk, trans. 2009. Proclus. Commentary on Plato’s Timaeus. Vol. IV, Book 3, Part II: Proclus on the World Soul. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Baltzly, Dirk, and Michael Share, trans. 2018. Hermias Alexandrinus. On Plato Phaedrus 227A–245E. London: Bloomsbury. Bett, Richard. 1986. Immortality and the Nature of the Soul in the Phaedrus. Phronesis 31 (1): 1–26.

 Tarán (1972, pp. 383–384; 392); Baltes (1999 [1996], pp. 304; 324–325); Dillon (2017 [1997], pp. 41–42). 53  A previous version of this chapter was presented as part of the Proteus seminar series in November 2021. I am very grateful to the seminar’s participants for stimulating questions and discussion. I would also like to record my thanks to Viktor Ilievski and Christoph Helmig, who have read and commented on an earlier draft of this chapter providing most helpful suggestions. This result is part of the PROTEUS project that has received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme (Grant agreement No. 758145). 52

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Blyth, Dougal. 1997. The Ever-Moving Soul in Plato’s Phaedrus. The American Journal of Philology 118 (2): 185–217. Brisson, Luc. 1998 [1974]. Le même et l’autre dans la structure ontologique du Timée de Platon: Un commentaire systématique du Timée de Platon. Sankt Augustin: Academia Verlag. Broadie, Sarah. 2012. Nature and Divinity in Plato’s Timaeus. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Cherniss, Harold F. 1946 [1944]. Aristotle’s Criticism of Plato and the Academy. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press. ———. 1954. The Sources of Evil According to Plato. Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society 98 (1): 23–30. ———. 1976. Plutarch’s Moralia in Seventeen Volumes, XIII, Part I (The Loeb Classical Library). London and Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Cooper, John M., and D.S.  Hutchinson, eds. 1997. Plato. Complete Works. Indianapolis and Cambridge: Hackett Publishing Company. Cornford, Francis M. 1997 [1935]. Plato’s Cosmology. The Timaeus of Plato. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company. Demos, Raphael. 1968. Plato’s Doctrine of the Psyche as Self-Moving Motion. Journal of the History of Philosophy 6 (2): 133–146. Dillon, John. 2017 [1997]. The Riddle of the Timaeus: Is Plato Sowing Clues? In Studies in Plato and the Platonic Tradition. Essays Presented to John Whittaker, ed. Mark Joyal, 25–42. London: Routledge. (Repr. in John Dillon, The Platonic Heritage. Further Studies in the History of Platonism and Early Christianity. London: Routledge, 2012). ———. 2020. The World Soul Takes Command: The Doctrine of the World Soul in the Epinomis of Philip of Opus and in the Academy of Polemon. In World Soul – Anima Mundi: On the Origins and Fortunes of a Fundamental Idea, ed. Christoph Helmig, 155–166. Berlin, Boston: De Gruyter. Easterling, H.J. 1967. Causation in the Timaeus and Laws X. Eranos 65: 25–38. Ferrari, Franco, and Laura Baldi, eds. 2002. Plutarco. La generazione dell’anima nel Timeo. Napoli: M. D’Auria Editore. Fronterotta, Francesco, trans. 2015 [2003]. Platone: Timeo. Milano: BUR. Gertz, Sebastian. 2020. Hermias on the Argument for Immortality in Plato’s Phaedrus. In Studies in Hermias’ Commentary on Plato’s Phaedrus, eds. John F. Finamore, Christina-Panagiota Manolea and Sarah Klitenic Wear, 84–99. Boston: Brill. Hackforth, Reginald. 1959. Plato’s Cosmogony (Timaeus 27 d ff.). The Classical Quarterly 9: 17–22.

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Ilievski, Viktor. 2013. Soul, Causation and Evil: is Plato’s ψυχή indeed κινήσεως ἁπάσης αἰτία and τῶν πάντων αἰτία? Hermathena 195: 31–54. Jelinek, Elizabeth. 2011. Pre-Cosmic Necessity in Plato’s Timaeus. Apeiron 44 (3): 287–305. Johansen, Thomas Kjeller. 2008 [2004]. Plato’s Natural Philosophy. A Study of the Timaeus-Critias. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Karfík, Filip. 2004. Die Beseelung des Kosmos. Untersuchungen zur Kosmologie, Seelenlehre und Theologie in Platons Phaidon und Timaios. Berlin, Boston: De Gruyter. ———. 2020. Disorderly Motion and the World Soul in the Timaeus. In World Soul – Anima Mundi: On the Origins and Fortunes of a Fundamental Idea, ed. Christoph Helmig, 63–76. Berlin, Boston: De Gruyter. Lucarini, Carlo M., and Claudio Moreschini, eds. 2012. Hermias Alexandrinus. In Platonis Phaedrum Scholia. Berlin and Boston: De Gruyter. Mohr, Richard D. 1980. The Sources of Evil Problem and the ἀρχὴ κινήσεως Doctrine in Plato. Apeiron 14: 41–56. Opsomer, Jan. 2004. Plutarch’s De Animae Procreatione in Timaeo: Manipulation or Search for Consistency? Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies 83 (Supplement): 137–162. Owen, G.E.L. 1953. The Place of the Timaeus in Plato’s Dialogues. The Classical Quarterly, New Series 3: 79–95. Parry, Richard D. 2002. The Soul in Laws X and Disorderly Motion in Timaeus. Ancient Philosophy 22: 289–301. Petrucci, Federico Maria, ed., and Franco Ferrari, intr. 2022. Platone: Timeo. Milano: Fondazione Lorenzo Valla. Robinson, Thomas M. 1972 [1968]. The Argument for Immortality in Plato’s Phaedrus. In Essays in Ancient Greek Philosophy, vol. 1, eds. John P. Anton and George L. Kustas, 345–353. Albany: SUNY Press. ———. 1995 [1970]. Plato’s Psychology. Toronto: Toronto University Press. Runia, David T., and Michael Share, trans. 2008. Proclus. Commentary on Plato’s Timaeus. Vol. II, Book 2: Proclus on the Causes of the Cosmos and its Creation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sedley, David. 2007. Creationism and its Critics in Antiquity. Berkley: University of California Press. Tarán, Leonardo. 1972. The Creation Myth in Plato’s Timaeus. In Essays in Ancient Greek Philosophy, vol. 1, eds. John P. Anton and George L. Kustas, 372–407. Albany: SUNY Press.

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Taylor, Alfred Edward. 1928. A Commentary on Plato’s Timaeus. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Vallejo, Alvaro. 1997. No, It’s not a Fiction. In Interpreting the Timaeus-Critias. Proceedings of the IV Symposium Platonicum. Selected Papers, eds. Tomás Calvo and Luc Brisson, 141–148. Sankt Augustin: Academia Verlag. Vázquez, Daniel. 2022. Before the Creation of Time in Plato’s Timaeus. In Time and Cosmology in Plato and the Platonic Tradition, eds. Daniel Vázquez and Alberto Ross, 111–133. Leiden: Brill. Vlastos, Gregory. 1939. The Disorderly Motion in the Timaios. The Classical Quarterly 33 (2): 71–83. ———. 1965. Creation in the Timaeus: Is it a Fiction? In Studies in Plato’s Metaphysics, ed. Reginald E. Allen, 401–419. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul (Repr. in Id. Studies in Greek Philosophy, vol. 2, ed. Daniel W. Graham, 265–279. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1995).

6 The Perfect World. On the Relation Between the World and the Paradigm in Plato’s Timaeus Federico M. Petrucci

1 Premiss If one were to summarize for a fresher the core of Plato’s cosmology as presented in the Timaeus, it is likely that a suitable outline would include the demiurge shaping the sensible world by looking at the intelligible realm as paradigm—after all, this is what Timaeus apparently says in some famous lines of his proem (28a6–b2). Needless to say, this would be quite a minimal and poor sketch, at least due to the fact that a major metaphysical actor of Plato’s cosmology, namely the receptacle, is missing, or since the sense in which the demiurge’s action must be understood remains far from clear. Here I will not deal with these puzzles, whose discussion would lead me far beyond the scope of this chapter; rather, I will focus on the very meaning of the relationship between the paradigm and the sensible world as a whole. As a matter of fact, the most obvious way to understand this relation is the “distributive” one: the world is an

F. M. Petrucci (*) University of Turin, Turin, Italy e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 V. Ilievski et al. (eds.), Plato on Time and the World, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-28198-3_6

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image of the paradigm in the sense that it is populated by sensible particulars, which are in turn bundles of properties whose paradigm is a form.1 Of course, this reading is based not only on a standard presentation of the theory of forms, often focusing on specific form-sensible property relations,2 but also on some Timaean passages, clearly referring to one-to-one relations between a form and a property (as instantiated in a set of sensible particulars, e.g. in the case of the elements). There must be more to this, however, for Timaeus recurrently refers to the intelligible world as a single entity—that is, the intelligible paradigm—and in turn the sensible world as a whole is the first and most important product of the demiurge’s action. This cannot just mean that every single form is correctly instantiated in the world, for in this case we would have to admit that the world is just the sum of the sensible particulars it includes— or, in other terms, that the parts are ontologically and structurally prior to the whole.3 Hence, one is lead to ask what it really means for Plato that the world as a whole effectively reproduces the intelligible paradigm. Answering this question will be the aim of this chapter: I will argue that the key feature of the paradigm that the world is meant to reproduce is not its simplicity or stability, but its dynamic and holistic structure. More specifically, I shall argue that: the world is unique because the intelligible structure of the paradigm is holistic in a qualified way, namely one implying its unity; the world is complete/perfect not in the sense that it encompasses the reproduction of all forms, but since it reproduces at the best possible level the rational motion and life of the intelligible world, and this is what Plato actually means by his definition of “time”. This will effectively explain why it is really good for the demiurge to take the intelligible world as a paradigm, and why Plato can effectively state that the generated world is not a shadowy half-being, but a venerable god.

 A strong version of this view implies the ascription to Plato a sort of bundle-theory, as proposed, e.g., by Johansen (2004, 118–122), Zeyl (2010), Ademollo (2018). Against this view a more hylomorphic interpretation of Plato’s ontology of sensible particulars has been provided, among others, by Algra (1995, pp. 92–99)—following in the tracks of, e.g., Cherniss (1954). I would side with the former reading, although this is not crucial for my argument. 2  This is, for instance, the way in which Plato presents his theory of forms in the Phaedo. 3  On Plato’s theory of parts-whole relation see the seminal study by Harte (2002). 1

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2 A Unique World As widely known, Plato provides two demonstrations of the fact that there is just one world, namely at 30c2–31b3 and 55c7–d6. I have discussed the latter passage elsewhere, arguing that it rather concerns the epistemological basis of the thesis, that is, the fact that the demiurge’s reasoning cannot but aim to produce a single world.4 This reasoning is the one Timaeus develops in the former passage, which now deserves a full citation.5 Τούτου δ' ὑπάρχοντος αὖ τὰ τούτοις ἐφεξῆς ἡμῖν λεκτέον, τίνι τῶν ζῴων αὐτὸν εἰς ὁμοιότητα ὁ συνιστὰς συνέστησεν. τῶν μὲν οὖν ἐν μέρους εἴδει πεφυκότων μηδενὶ καταξιώσωμεν, ἀτελεῖ γὰρ ἐοικὸς οὐδέν ποτ' ἂν γένοιτο καλόν· οὗ δ' ἔστιν τἆλλα ζῷα καθ' ἓν καὶ κατὰ γένη μόρια, τούτῳ πάντων ὁμοιότατον αὐτὸν εἶναι τιθῶμεν. τὰ γὰρ δὴ νοητὰ ζῷα πάντα ἐκεῖνο ἐν ἑαυτῷ περιλαβὸν ἔχει, καθάπερ ὅδε ὁ κόσμος ἡμᾶς ὅσα τε ἄλλα θρέμματα συνέστηκεν ὁρατά. τῷ γὰρ τῶν νοουμένων καλλίστῳ καὶ κατὰ πάντα τελέῳ μάλιστα αὐτὸν ὁ θεὸς ὁμοιῶσαι βουληθεὶς ζῷον ἓν ὁρατόν, πάνθ' ὅσα αὐτοῦ6 κατὰ φύσιν συγγενῆ ζῷα ἐντὸς ἔχον ἑαυτοῦ, συνέστησε. πότερον οὖν ὀρθῶς ἕνα οὐρανὸν προσειρήκαμεν, ἢ πολλοὺς καὶ ἀπείρους λέγειν ἦν ὀρθότερον; ἕνα, εἴπερ κατὰ τὸ παράδειγμα δεδημιουργημένος ἔσται. τὸ γὰρ περιέχον πάντα ὁπόσα νοητὰ ζῷα μεθ' ἑτέρου δεύτερον οὐκ ἄν ποτ' εἴη· πάλιν γὰρ ἂν ἕτερον εἶναι τὸ περὶ ἐκείνω δέοι ζῷον, οὗ μέρος ἂν εἴτην ἐκείνω, καὶ οὐκ ἂν ἔτι ἐκείνοιν ἀλλ' ἐκείνῳ τῷ περιέχοντι τόδ' ἂν ἀφωμοιωμένον λέγοιτο ὀρθότερον. ἵνα οὖν τόδε κατὰ τὴν μόνωσιν ὅμοιον ᾖ τῷ παντελεῖ ζῴῳ, διὰ ταῦτα οὔτε δύο οὔτ' ἀπείρους ἐποίησεν ὁ ποιῶν κόσμους, ἀλλ' εἷς ὅδε μονογενὴς οὐρανὸς γεγονὼς ἔστιν καὶ ἔτ' ἔσται.

 See Petrucci (2021a).  I quote the text of my own edition (Petrucci, 2022); translations are taken from Cornford (1937), modified where necessary. 6  This must refer to the intelligible world. It cannot refer to the world itself (Brisson, 1995 translates ambiguously, while the pronoun seems to be missing in Cornford’s translation—modified here) either grammatically (it should in this case be reflexive) or argumentatively: the point here is that the world, arranged by the demiurge to resemble the intelligible (d2–3), contains within itself the instantiations of all intelligible living things—for each sensible particular participates not only in the form that determines its species, but also in all the forms that from time to time determine its properties. 4 5

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This being premised, we have now to state what follows next: What was the living being in whose likeness he organized the world? We must not suppose that it was any creature that ranks only as a part; for no copy of that which is incomplete can ever be good. Let us rather say that the world is most nearly like, above all things, to that Living being of which all other living beings, severally and in their kinds, are parts. For that embraces and contains within itself all the intelligible living beings, just as this world contains ourselves and all other beings that have been formed as things visible. For the god, wishing to make this world most nearly like that intelligible thing which is best and in every way complete, fashioned it as a single visible living being, containing within itself all living beings which are by nature cognate of those which belong to the intelligible. Have we, then, been right to call it one Heaven, or would it have been true rather to speak of many and indeed of an indefinite number? One we must call it, if we are to hold that it was produced according to its paradigm. For that which embraces all the intelligible living beings that there are, cannot be one of a pair; for then there would have to be yet another Living being embracing those two, and they would be parts of it; and thus our world would be more truly described as a likeness, not of them, but of that other which would embrace them. Accordingly, to the end that this world may be like the complete Living beings in respect of its uniqueness, for that reason its maker did not make two worlds nor yet an indefinite number; but this Heaven has come to be and shall be hereafter one and unique.

Timaeus has just demonstrated that the demiurge can only produce a beautiful work, and this allows him to extend the discussion to the intelligible paradigm, keeping as a principle that the demiurge produced the world with the aim of making it similar (εἰς ὁμοιότητα) to the intelligible paradigm. I shall leave aside here the alleged issue of the reason why Timaeus even wonders whether the paradigm can be sensible itself, since I have argued elsewhere that this can count as an implicit demonstration of the need for the intelligible paradigm to exist.7 What it means for my present purpose is rather the structure of the argument and the features which the paradigm and the world share—i.e., the features ensuring that the world is a perfect likeness of the paradigm.  Petrucci (2021b).

7

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First, it should be noted that the introductory question already highlights a key aspect. Timaeus has just shown that the product is a living being (ζῷον), encompassing a soul and a body. Now, in principle it is not necessary that a paradigm-likeness relation implies that both are ζῷα in the case either is: a horse is indeed a living being, but a painted horse is not. However, Timaeus does not even feel the need to demonstrate that, if the world is a ζῷον, then also the paradigm must be a ζῷον, and just asks what is the ζῷον that plays the role of paradigm for the world. This move is fully justified, since a living being is positively more valuable than anything deprived of life. Its implication is particularly important though: no doubt the paradigm itself is meant to be a living being. It must also be emphasised that nothing in the text, at least at this stage, suggests that Timaeus implies any distinction between what he indicates as intelligible living being and the paradigm as a whole: on the contrary, since the paradigm is exactly the one the demiurge was said to look at while shaping the world (see again 28a6–b2), the most straightforward way to understand the passage is to take the paradigm to be the intelligible living being (for otherwise one should assume that the demiurge would look just at one form: I shall get back to this issue later on in this section). A second crucial aspect implied by the goodness of the demiurge is that he could not have employed a partial and incomplete paradigm: hence, the model must contain all living beings in a pure, stable, non-­ particular, and non-multiple dimension (30c5–6). This representation must refer to the intelligible world as a whole and is entirely consistent with its description as a living being: in the intelligible living being each form must be present as part of an organic, non-homeomerous whole, while each form can be regarded as “incomplete” in the specific sense that it does not exhaust the ontological domain it belongs to. All this has two important further implications: first, if each form is different from the others, then the paradigm as a whole is characterised by a specific, organic and orderly internal multiplicity; second, if it is a living being, its parts (i.e., forms) must mutually interact, and this amounts to the intelligible living being’s life. If this is sound, while the preceding descriptions of the

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paradigm (e.g., 27d6–28a4) recalled those typical of the “middle dialogues” and emphasized the intelligible world’s stability, here Timaeus introduces strong elements of dynamism and vitality within it, that of course parallel the idea, fully developed in the Sophist (esp. 248e7–249a3), according to which the intelligible world must be provided with life and intelligible motion.8 This leads to what has been called the “principle of completeness” of the intelligible world,9 whereby the intelligible living being contains within itself all the intelligibles.10 This is a very suitable setting for the reading of the following argument in support of the uniqueness of the world (31a2–b3), for it aims to show that the thesis of multiple worlds would be incompatible with the idea that the demiurge produced the world as a likeness of the intelligible living being: if there were more than one world, there would have to be more than one intelligible model—which is already impossible—and this world, if it is to be perfect, would have to be the likeness of the most complete among them; this would force the assumption of the existence of a further intelligible living being that brings together all intelligible living beings. In general, then, the point is not that it is impossible for there to be more than one world; rather, it is the ontology of the intelligible living being and the goodness of the demiurge outlined so far that imply that the demiurge produced only one world.11 The traditional interpretation of this passage takes “intelligible living being” as a reference to the form of the “living being”, and in my view this is the reason why the passage has sparked lively debate beginning with Keyt (1971), who argued that Plato would fallaciously infer the uniqueness of the world from a characteristic that the intelligible living being has as a form  The relation between this Timaean passage and the Sophist has been effectively demonstrated by Ferrari (2011). 9  Ferrari (2003, pp. 88–91). 10  One could object that this model apparently leaves no room for any quantitative difference between the number of forms in the intelligible living being and the sets of related properties in the sensible world, and in turn this might imply an obvious puzzle: what if, say, a catastrophe caused the extinction of a species? I would take Plato to reply that it is not necessary that all forms are always instantiated de re, but it is crucial that the demiurge ensures in principle the completeness of the world, especially in terms of holistic structure. 11  The importance of the goodness of the demurge in this argument has been well emphasised by El Murr (2021, pp. 50–54). 8

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and not as a specific form (i.e., the form of intelligible living being). This point has been effectively criticized by a number of scholars, all somehow showing that “containing” all intelligible living beings is a property of the form of the intelligible living being as such and not as a form: in effect, if one assumes that here Timaeus refers to this form, it is true that the form of “living being” is the most general among the forms of living beings.12 In this case, the reason why the one complete intelligible living being must be the model of the one world relies on a sort of principle of economy: if the model of the world becomes the most comprehensive form of the living being, there is no reason to assume the presence of two (forms of ) intelligible living beings. However, considering the intelligible living being as a single form seems to lead at least to two substantial difficulties. First, we have already seen that in the previous part of the argument there is no need to detect any reference to a specific form of “living being”, while it is much more straightforward to take Timaeus to refer to the intelligible world as a whole. Second, if the sensible world were the likeness of a single form of “living being”, Timaeus would seem to contravene the canonical formulation that a form is one-over-many. To solve this issue scholars have resorted to a “principle of choice” on the part of the demiurge—i.e., the demiurge, being a good intellect, can decide that a single form is the cause of a single sensible item.13 In fact, another solution seems more economical to me: in some key passages (e.g., Men. 72c6–8 and 73c9– d2) Plato does not necessarily outline paradigmatic causation of forms as implying that a form must be the cause of a property in multiple objects  See esp. Parry (1979), Patterson (1981), Mohr (2005, pp. 21–26). These interpretations grant, however, that the intelligible living being is here a specific form; see also Sedley (2007, p. 108 n. 36), who argued that Timaeus would be referring here to the ideal genus “animal”, and Thein (2006), who rather focused on the four forms of the living species mentioned at 39e3–40a2. Accoding to Cherniss (1944, pp. 295–7), Plato would thus resolve the regress of the Third Man as sketched in Resp. X.597c7–9 and formulated in the Parmenides: Plato would suggest that, with respect to both completeness and the “living being”, the form and the corresponding sensible particulars are not such in the same respect. In fact, it has been well shown that, even considering here the intelligible living being as a form, Plato seems to proceed along a different path of reasoning: the form of the living being would share with the sensible world completeness (and not the property “living being”), as shown by the fact that this argument does not imply any regress (since the most inclusive living being would not need to be included in anything; cf. Parry (1979, pp. 7–9) and (1991, pp. 25–32), and Patterson (1981, pp. 105–9). 13  Patterson (1981, pp. 109–19), but cf. already Cornford (1937, pp. 42–3). 12

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(i.e., of the same property in a number of sensible particulars); rather, he says that a form is the cause of a property in all sensible particulars having that property, so the world might represent a limiting (but not anomalous) case in which there is just one sensible particular (the world) partaking in one form. Be that as it may, it seems to me that the traditional problem is somewhat misplaced.14 While it is true that every form is a model, it is not necessarily the case that every model employed by the demiurge must be a single form, and it is no accident that either this passage or the previous argument never states that the intelligible living being is a single form15: the fundamental requirement in order to make sense of the argument is that the model is unitary, unique and complete. But in the previous argument we had already discovered a very good candidate for this role, that is the intelligible world as a whole, that must include all intelligibles according to a certain articulation, namely that of a holistic living being. As a matter of fact, the Sophist ensures that forms possess, thanks to the greater kinds, an essential capacity to communicate with each other in an orderly and organic way, which makes the puzzling hypothesis of a single form that guarantees this communication or even delimits the intelligible world completely superfluous. In other words, if the intelligible living being is a holistic and organic intelligible whole thanks to the greater kinds, it is also unitary and complete.16 If my reconstruction is sound, we have reached the first general conclusion. When establishing that the intelligible world is the paradigm of the sensible world in such a way as to ensure the latter’s perfection and to comply with the demiurge’s goodness, Plato does not stress the intelligible world’s unity or immobility: rather, he insists on the fact that the intelligible world is a unitary whole and that it is provided with a complex form of life. This will prove crucial in the second part of the chapter.

 See also Rashed (2018, pp. 115–17).  As in fact already noted by Parry (1979, pp. 9–11). 16  The argument proposed by Parry (1991, pp. 25–7), that it must be a form because, being a living being in itself, it must be more than the totality of its parts, is weak, because a ὅλον is both a totality of parts and, as such, more than the totality of its parts. 14 15

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3 Time and Intelligible Life In this section I will focus on the famous and controversial passage describing the generation of time. Of course, to explore it completely would require a much more extensive analysis and would exceed the aim of this chapter; rather, I shall emphasise that the definition of time as κατ’ ἀριθμὸν ἰοῦσαν αἰώνιον εἰκόνα (37d6–7) points to the fact that the core feature that the intelligible and the sensible living beings share is their complex, orderly and dynamic structure.17 The beginning of the section (37c6–d1) already establishes the basis starting from which Timaeus will develop his account. Even before the generation of time, the world is already described as a likeness of something, namely as a beautiful likeness of the eternal gods (τῶν ἀϊδίων θεῶν … ἄγαλμα), provided with life and motion (κινηθὲν … καὶ ζῶν): this depends on the fact that the world is already a likeness of the paradigm, but the demiurge wants it to be even more similar to the paradigm (ἔτι δὴ μᾶλλον ὅμοιον πρὸς τὸ παράδειγμα ἐπενόησεν ἀπεργάσασθαι) by reproducing in the former the specific eternity of the latter, namely its being an eternal living being (ζῷον ἀΐδιον ὄν). A first crucial issue here is the identity of the eternal gods Timaeus refers to. At this stage of the tale no specific living being has yet been constituted, and it would seem difficult to imagine that the gods in question could be forms understood individually. On the other hand, at least two instances of imitation of the intelligible realm have been introduced: first, the elements (31b4–32c4), that are instances of the respective forms, have already been produced and arranged according to proportion18; second, and more importantly,  To some extent, this section may be regarded as a complement to Daniel Vasquez’ chapter in this volume, namely of his section 3, in which the issue of the meaning of this definition with respect to the paradigm’s eternity is raised. It also seems to me that my own understanding of the notion of time may be compatible with Daniel Vasquez’s, who argues that time is the unified ‘observable astronomical event that consists of the coordinated movements of the sun, the moon, the five observable planets and earth’: I would argue that this event has to coincide, at least referentially, with the life embedded in the heavenly motions—though I would also insist on the fact that the notion of life has an explanatory and causal priority. 18  Of course I do not mean that the cosmogonic account really consists in a temporal process: however, it is important to consider the order in which, within its logical development, the tale presents its major actors and products. 17

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as we have seen, the world was constituted as a likeness of the complete intelligible living being. While it would be hard to take the forms of the elements as eternal gods, it is entirely plausible that Plato takes the eternal forms to be also divine—that is, eternal gods. Hence, consistently with what emerged in the previous section of this chapter, the most straightforward explanation of the passage is that the properties the sensible world is provided with at this stage (namely, life and motion) depend on its being a likeness of the paradigm as a whole. Hence, making the world even more similar to the paradigm requires the demiurge to provide the sensible world with a further property, capacity, or structure, that will reproduce the paradigm’s eternity. At this point Timaeus says (37d3–7): ἡ μὲν οὖν τοῦ ζῴου φύσις ἐτύγχανεν οὖσα αἰώνιος, καὶ τοῦτο μὲν δὴ τῷ γεννητῷ παντελῶς προσάπτειν οὐκ ἦν δυνατόν, εἰκὼ δ' ἐπενόει κινητόν τινα αἰῶνος ποιῆσαι, καὶ διακοσμῶν ἅμα οὐρανὸν ποιεῖ μένοντος αἰῶνος ἐν ἑνὶ κατ' ἀριθμὸν ἰοῦσαν αἰώνιον εἰκόνα, τοῦτον ὃν δὴ χρόνον ὠνομάκαμεν. Now the nature of that Living being was eternal, and this character it was impossible to confer in full completeness on the generated thing. But he took thought to make, as it were, a moving likeness of eternity; and, at the same time that he ordered the Heaven, he made, of eternity that abides in unity, an everlasting likeness moving according to number—that to which we have given the name Time.

The intelligible world remains perfectly unitary and eternal, and time is the qualified reproduction of this very condition inasmuch as it is possible for a sensible likeness to be such. The key interpretative issue here consists in understanding what the obscure phrase μένοντος αἰῶνος ἐν ἑνί really means. This is even more important since the phrase apparently points to a representation of the intelligible world different from what emerged in section 1: while there we saw Timaeus describing the intelligible world as a complex and dynamic whole, here we are apparently confronted with a more traditional account of it, based in its stability, simplicity and unity. I will first argue that this is not the case.

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The actual notion of “eternity” at stake here has been widely explored and I will not take it to be controversial anymore. The intelligible is said to be ἀΐδιος (37d1) and αἰώνιος (37d3 and d5–6), an adjective (perhaps coined by Plato) which, however, is also attributed to the likeness (37d7); similarly, the intelligible is often described as that which always is (ἀεί, e.g., at 37a1) and the demiurge as the god who always is. However, ἀεί may in itself also indicate perpetuity, and for this reason some authoritative studies have denied that Plato distinguishes in this passage the eternity of the world (understood as infinite duration) from an atemporal dimension.19 The problem is misplaced, though, because the passage actually presupposes the atemporal eternity of the intelligible world, since this marks the ontological discontinuity between the model and the likeness: this is what suggests that Plato is fully aware of the fact that eternity can only be given in the intelligible in terms of an absolute lack of duration and time.20 If this is sound, it is entirely possible that the intelligible world is atemporal and at the same time provided with internal intelligible dynamics, which of course do not require any kind of duration. The term μένοντος is apparently more puzzling, for it seems to point to some kind of immobility. Two occurrences of the verb μένω in the Timaeus clearly indicate that this is not the case, though. In his description of the generation of celestial bodies, Timaeus distinguishes between planets and stars, with the latter “remaining” (40b5–6: κατὰ ταὐτὰ ἐν ταὐτῷ στρεφόμενα ἀεὶ μένει) at rest with respect to the planets. Of course, this does not mean that the stars remain motionless: rather, they produce a perfectly stable motion, which marks a clear superiority of theirs with respect to the “inferior” celestial bodies, namely the planets, inasmuch as the stars’ motion along the circle of the Same does not cause them to produce any kind of kinetic variation. Similarly, at 42e5–7 Timaeus describes the “moment” in which the demiurge, assigning to the lower gods’ tasks with respect to the generation of mortal living beings, ἔμενεν ἐν τῷ ἑαυτοῦ κατὰ τρόπον ἤθει. This is indeed a controversial  See, e.g., Owen (1966) and Whittaker (1968).  See esp. Tarán (1979) and Sorabji (1988, pp. 108–12); on the problem see also Mohr (2005, pp. 51–80). Consequently, one can suppose that describing the eternity of the intelligible and that of the sensible with the same adjective in the space of a few lines (d3, d7) serves Plato precisely to bring attention to the necessary dissimilarity between the two dimensions (Tarán, 1979, p. 45). 19 20

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passage; however, unless one is prepared to consider the demiurge having himself a temporal character, it is necessary to take ἔμενεν to refer here to a sort of dynamic stability, that is the demiurge’s natural accomplishment of his noetic activity.21 Again, this stability does not imply any kind of immobility: rather, it is in the nature of the demiurge to “move” and act, but this acting cannot imply any kind of modification in the demiurge’s identity. From all this one can safely conclude that saying that the intelligible world μένει does not entail that it rests motionless: rather, it can indeed imply motion and activity, though of a kind that does not entail any actual modification or instability. One still need to understand what it can mean for the intelligible realm to remain ἐν ἑνί. Of course, it might be the case that Plato refers to absolute unity. Also here, however, another option is available, namely one referring to an articulated and dynamic unity. In his refutation of the monists in the Sophist, the Eleatic Stranger considers (at least) two possible senses in which something is “one”, and one of them envisages a holistic notion of unity according to which a whole, that is made of non-­ homeomerous parts, has the predicate of being “one” (244e2 ff.). Even more explicitly, in the Laws (XII.965d–e) the Athenian Stranger defines a specific kind of unitary structure (more specifically, the one that effectively describes the relation between virtue in general and specific virtues), namely the ἕν-ὅλον, in which a non-homeomerous whole is also characterised by intrinsic unity.22 What I have been saying until now shows at least that it is not necessary to understand Plato’s account of the paradigm in the section on time as referring to motionless unity; on the contrary, there is room to take the paradigm to be described here as a moving, though stable, atemporal whole provided with intelligible motion and life. In what follows I shall claim that the account of time itself strongly suggests that the latter description of the paradigm is the one Plato actually exploits. After the famous section devoted to the correct way in which one should use the verb “to be” in relation to the intelligible and the sensible world, from 38b4 Timaeus gets back to the cosmological account of time.  See Petrucci (2022, pp. 306–308).  See esp. Centrone (2004).

21 22

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In general, the time of the sensible world consists of ordered and measurable (because regulated by number) succession of moments or durations (days, nights, months, years), according to which everything necessarily changes in some way. Therefore, the advance of time will be the most faithful likeness of the intelligible to the extent that number guarantees perfect mathematical order and measurability. However, when summarizing the conclusions reached so far, he also introduces a new point (38b4–c3), namely that the world and time will in principle encounter their destruction together. This necessity depends on a principle evoked in Republic VIII.546a1–4: what is generated must admit destruction because it is not ontologically independent. This does not imply that such dissolution will ever take place, for it is prevented by the demiurge’s care (cf. 32b8–c4, 41a7–8).23 This is interesting for the scope of this chapter since in this way Timaeus binds time not only to the soul, but also and above all to the heavenly region of the world; accordingly, there is no way to detach time from all kinds of heavenly motion. Not by chance, Timaeus can now state that (38c3–6): ἐξ οὖν λόγου καὶ διανοίας θεοῦ τοιαύτης πρὸς χρόνου γένεσιν, ἵνα γεννηθῇ χρόνος, ἥλιος καὶ σελήνη καὶ πέντε ἄλλα ἄστρα, ἐπίκλην ἔχοντα πλανητά, εἰς διορισμὸν καὶ φυλακὴν ἀριθμῶν χρόνου γέγονεν. In virtue, then, of this plan and intent of the god for the birth of time, in order that time might be brought into being, Sun and Moon and five other stars—“wanderers”, as they are called—were made to define and preserve the numbers of time.

This already suggests that the planets—all of them!—along with the overall motion of the outermost sphere of the stars, directly determine the measurable order of time, and in this sense they even seem to have a priority over time itself, which is the regular, perpetual and ordered motion of the entire cosmic construction and its dynamics.24 Of course, the planets owe their specific motion to the soul (in this sense, they are  Although it is probably excessive to assert, with Mohr (1986, pp. 41–3), that the eternity of the cosmos is contingent. 24  In this direction goes Thein (2020, pp. 94–102); see also Goldin (1998, pp. 127–34). 23

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“instruments of time”: 41e5, 42d5).25 However, time itself, as we have seen, cannot be reduced to the most basic structure of the soul, but emerges from the complex combination of the motions of the heavenly bodies.26 Interestingly, Plato does not hide here the complexity and apparent anomaly of the planetary motions: he does claim that it is possible to explain planetary motions in such a way as to grasp their rational arrangement (38e2–3), still he emphasises that planetary circles have different speeds and that they apparently produce complex paths such as helixes (38e3–39b2). Not by chance, as we shall see, Timaeus will further insist (39c5–d7) that also the motions of the superior planets, the knowledge of which is reserved for very few people, contribute to determine time. Consistently, time goes far beyond the perceptible alternation of night and day, months or seasons: it is instead the measure of the overall life of the world and is based on the presence of regular and ordered mathematical dynamics, which Timaeus explicitly links to the planets’ regular apocatastatic periods (see esp. 39d2–7). At the same time, while emphasising these aspects, Timaeus binds them to a biological representation of the heavens and the stars (esp. 38e5–39a1): the planets themselves are living beings within the greater living being that is the world, so they are endowed with souls, and precisely the possession of the soul, associated with the location on the world soul’s circuits and the interaction with the circle of the Same (which determines the motion of the stars), is the necessary constraint to ensure the effectiveness of astronomical dynamics. In the light of all this, Timaeus concludes this section by getting back to its beginning, namely to the idea that the world, once provided with time, is a perfect and complete image of the intelligible living being, as he says (39d7–e2):  See Karfik (2004, pp. 177–8).  This point is key also inasmuch as it helps understand possible divergences with respect to other passages, e.g. Laws X.897a, where different psychic motions (whishing, opining, etc.) are treated as paradigms of various kinds of derivative physical changes. I take this passage to mean that specific psychic motions are mirrored by specific physical motions—and this is consistent with the overall Timaean idea that the soul’s reasoning is intrinsically related to its motion (see esp. 36e, expressing the theoretical framework for this). Still, this does not imply that the soul’s motions as whole are the ontological paradigm for the world’s motions as a whole—which is, on the contrary, what the paradigm is. I thank the press’ anonymous reader for stimulating me to consider this point. 25 26

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κατὰ ταῦτα δὴ καὶ τούτων ἕνεκα ἐγεννήθη τῶν ἄστρων ὅσα δι' οὐρανοῦ πορευόμενα ἔσχεν τροπάς, ἵνα τόδε ὡς ὁμοιότατον ᾖ τῷ τελέῳ καὶ νοητῷ ζῴῳ πρὸς τὴν τῆς διαιωνίας μίμησιν φύσεως. In this way, then, and for these ends were brought into being all those stars that have turnings on their journey through the Heaven; in order that this world may be as like as possible to the perfect and intelligible Living being, in respect of imitating its ever-enduring nature.

We are again told that the construction of the heavens has, in general and in detail, the purpose of perfecting the imitation of the paradigm, that is, of the intelligible living being (see 37b6–c1). Moreover, although the circle of the Same contributes to the cosmic order, Plato stresses again that determining factors of such imitation are the planetary τροπαί. This claim just generalizes what has been repeatedly suggested (namely at 38c3–d6, 38e3–39b2; 39c1–d6); still, it has not emerged yet why Plato commits to that view, which moreover might appear inconsistent with the fact that the motion of the different (and with it that of the planets) dictates the most irregular celestial dynamics. We can now narrow the focus on the major puzzle repeatedly emerging from this survey: while one would expect time to be dictated only by perfectly regular motions, apparently Plato insists that also quite complex periods and motions play a primary role in its determination. Now, if the account of the paradigm provided at the beginning of the passage were to be read as implying its motionless unity, this puzzle would be almost impossible to solve. Of course, one could answer that after all the planetary construction produced by the demiurge is the best possible, or that the demiurge has in any case limited as much as possible the planetary irregularity, thus ensuring the highest possible degree of proximity of the likeness to its paradigm: the planetary irregularity would be in these terms the one that involves the least evil for the world. This solution, however, could hardly resist quite an obvious counter-objection: there is no need for Plato to involve also the superior planets (which are those whose motion is most irregular) in the determination of time. After all, as he clearly states, the most important periods of time, i.e. day and night, year and month, are determined by a combination of the motion of the

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stars and the motions of the most “regular” planets, that is, the Sun and the Moon (39c1–5)27: had Plato wanted to limit the impact of the apparent irregularities of the heavenly motion on his account of time, he could have just stopped there. On the contrary, Plato provides an openly positive description of all planetary motions and their activity of determining time (39c5–d7). A possible solution to the puzzle might come from the reference to the “great year”, and more generally to the possibility to discover regular apocatastatic periods (39d2–7).28 Plato seems to consider the great year as a universal parameter of regularity and perfection (cf. also Resp. VIII.546a1–547a5), and in this context the reference has an even more important role: the existence of a great year might show that each planet, though moving on its own orbit with different speeds from the others, is endowed with a regular movement which cyclically brings it back to the starting point according to fixed periods. Still, if these planets’ contribution were limited to this, it would have been pointless for Plato to explicitly insist on some anomalies of planetary motions. More specifically, Timaeus explicitly mentions at least three specific cases of apparently irregular motion produced by the planets29: the sometimes contrary motion of Venus and Mercury with respect to the Sun (38c7–d6); the helical motion produced by some of the planets (39a4–b2); later on, the retrograde motion of the planets (40c5: ἐπανακυκλήσεις)30 which opposes their regular advances (προχωρήσεις) and which seems to be the basis of the image of the dance of the ­wandering bodies and of the various phenomena that are contextually described (40c5–9), namely conjunction, opposition and eclipse. At the same time, Plato never claims that these motions are irrational, or impossible to explain in good “technical” fashion: he rather suggests that he is among the few human beings capable of providing rational—that is,  νὺξ μὲν οὖν ἡμέρα τε γέγονεν οὕτως καὶ διὰ ταῦτα, ἡ τῆς μιᾶς καὶ φρονιμωτάτης κυκλήσεως περίοδος, μεὶς δὲ ἐπειδὰν σελήνη περιελθοῦσα τὸν ἑαυτῆς κύκλον ἥλιον ἐπικαταλάβῃ, ἐνιαυτὸς δὲ ὁπόταν ἥλιος τὸν ἑαυτοῦ περιέλθῃ κύκλον. 28  On Plato’s “great year” see de Callatay (1996). 29  Contra Bowen (2002, p.  158), who instead takes an extremely reductive attitude toward the astronomical complexity of the Platonic model. 30  Cf. also Resp. X.617b2 and Knorr (1990, p. 315). 27

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mathematical—explanations to these anomalies (38e2–3). I shall not enter here the debate concerning the actual technical content of Timaean astronomy,31 since the point is more general and can be summarized as follows: time is related to all heavenly motions, from the most regular motion of the stars to the apparently irregular and complex motion of the superior planets; the complex motion of the superior planets cannot be limited by referring to the regularity of their apocatastatic periods and involves a number of apparently anomalous motions, though it is possible, in principle, to provide a rational explanation of these motions as well; accordingly, what characterizes the whole of the heavenly motions is a paradoxical interlacement of extreme complexity and variety on the one hand, and order and rationality on the other. If my analysis is sound, stubbornly trying to explain how Timaeus’ account of time as a moving image of eternity can consistently match with a motionless unity of the paradigm would be hopeless: after all, if one had to highlight the core feature of Timaean heavens it would be necessary to refer to complexity and variety rather than to unity and immobility. It seems to me that only one option remains on the table, namely adopting the “alternative” understanding of the nature of the intelligible paradigm I proposed at the beginning of this section: when Plato uses the phrase μένοντος αἰῶνος ἐν ἑνί he actually points to the complex, dynamic and living stability of the intelligible living being. This is the reason why the “motionless motion” of the fixed stars or even of the inferior planets, cannot guarantee by itself that the sensible living being is dynamic, orderly and regular enough to imitate the dynamics of the intelligible32; paradoxically, if one is certain that even the most complex planetary motions can be rationally explained, then it is quite profitable for Timaeus to involve all of them in his account of time as a likeness of the paradigm.

 For a general discussion of the astronomical structure of the section and the previous critical debate see Petrucci (2022, pp. 466–473). 32  Thein (2020) seems to go in the same direction; however, he assumes a reduced complexity for planetary motion (partic. at p. 103, n. 14) and thus ends up reducing again the cosmological function of planets. 31

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4 Some Conclusions The issue concerning the exact sense in which the world is a likeness of the paradigm is of course a huge and complex one, which cannot be addressed in full in a single chapter. However, it seems to me that the passages I analysed here can provide strong evidence that Plato would regard the paradigm’s internal intelligible motion and complexity as one of the most important features (if not the most important feature) that have to be mirrored by the world as a whole. This already emerged in section 1: when Timaeus establishes that both the intelligible and the sensible world are living beings, he must mean something specific concerning their holistic structure; accordingly, the demiurge’s aim is to reproduce into the sensible world not only a set of specific forms, but a complete, rational, and organic structure. Not by chance, in section 2 we have observed how the demiurge wanted to make the world even more similar to the paradigm, namely by producing time, which is a moving likeness of eternity according to number. Also in this case, the internal complexity and dynamic of the intelligible living being are exploited, and the only way to make good sense of this paradigm-likeness relation is to take such complexity and dynamics to be what time is meant to mirror at its own level. At this point, one might wonder why Plato wants these features to be central to his cosmogonic theory: after all, if—generally speaking—the forms are ultimately meant to ensure the sensible world’s stability, it would have been much more profitable for Plato to insist on the intelligible world’s immobility. I would suggest that the pay-off of this metaphysical relation is exactly the same, though formulated in a much more persuasive way. Consider the relation between a sensible particular and the forms that are causes of its properties: of course these forms will explain why the sensible particular is as it is at each moment and what its properties are, but will not ensure its permanence as a sensible object— indeed, no sensible particular is provided with diachronic identity. This cannot apply to the world, though, which not only is provided with a different and perfect motion, but is also conceived as a god. Hence, it must enjoy a specific relation to the intelligible world, namely one

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ensuring on the one hand complexity and motion, on the other a major kind of stability. This issue is solved by the model I am proposing: what the sensible world as a whole gets from the intelligible world is not only fragmented and motionless distribution of properties, but a complex, holistic and dynamic structural pattern. One might object that this would somehow represent an exception in the mechanisms of participation, for in this case the intelligible paradigm would be a model not only of properties, but also of structures. I do not think that this is really puzzling, however, for two reasons. First, from a textual point of view, this is exactly what Plato upholds in his account of time, which is an image of a structural aspect of the paradigm. Second, in the case of the overall structure of the world we are not confronted with a standard case of participation. Rather, it is the demiurge who arranges the structure of the sensible world in such a way as to make it most similar to the structure of the intelligible world, that is, in such a way as to really make the sensible world the most complex, complete, divine and beautiful sensible living being.

References Ademollo, Francesco. 2018. On Plato’s Conception of Change. Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy 55: 35–83. Algra, Keimpe. 1995. Concepts of Space in Greek Thought. Leiden: Brill. Bowen, A.C. 2002. Simplicius and the Early History of Greek Planetary Theory. Perspectives on Science 10: 155–167. Brisson, Luc. 1995. Platon: Timée-Critias. Paris: Flammarion. Centrone, Bruno. 2004. Platonic Virtue as a Holon: from the Laws to the Protagoras. In Plato Ethicus: Philosophy is Life, ed. Maurizio Migliori, Linda M.  Napolitano, and Davide Del Forno, 93–106. Sankt Augustin: Academia Verlag. Cherniss, Harold F. 1944. Aristotle’s Criticism of Plato and the Academy. Baltimore: The John Hopkins Press. ———. 1954. A Much-Misread Passage of the Timaeus (49c7–50b5). The American Journal of Philosophy 75: 113–130. (repr. in Selected papers, Leiden 1977: 346–363). Cornford, Francis M. 1937. Plato’s Cosmology: The Timaeus of Plato. Indianapolis-­ Cambridge: Hackett Publishing Company.

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de Callatay, Godefroid. 1996. Annus Platonicus: A Study of World Cycles in Greek, Latin and Arabic Sources. Louvain-la-Neuve: Université catholique de Louvain. Ferrari, Franco. 2003. Causa paradigmatica e causa efficiente: il ruolo delle idee nel Timeo. In Plato Physicus: Cosmologia e Antropologia nel Timaeo, ed. Carlo Natali and Stefano Maso, 83–96. Amsterdam: Adolf M. Hakkert. ———. 2011. L’anima dell’essere. Sofista, 248e–249a e Timeo, 30c–31. In Λόγον διδόναι: La filosofia come esercizio del rendere ragione. Studi in onore di Giovanni Casertano, ed. Lidia Palumbo, 601–613. Napoli: Loffredo. Goldin, Owen. 1998. Plato and the Arrow of Time. AncPhil 18: 125–143. Harte, Verity. 2002. Plato on Parts and Wholes. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Johansen, Thomas K. 2004. Plato’s Natural Philosophy: A Study of the Timaeus-­ Critias. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Karfik, Filip. 2004. Die Beseelung des Kosmos: Untersuchungen zur Kosmologie, Seelenlehre und Theologie in Platons "Phaidon" und “Timaios”. München-­ Leipzig: K. G. Saur. Keyt, David. 1971. The Mad Craftsman of the Timaeus. Philosophical Review 80: 230–235. Knorr, Wilbur R. 1990. Plato and Eudoxus on the Planetary Motions. Journal for the History of Astronomy 21: 313–329. Mohr, Richard D. 2005. God and Forms in Plato. Las Vegas: Parmenides Publishing. El Murr, Dimitri. 2021. Platonic “Desmology” and the Body of the World Animal. In Cosmology and Biology in Ancient Philosophy: From Thales to Avicenna, ed. Ricardo Sales, 46–71. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Owen, G.E.L. 1966. Plato and Parmenides on the Timeless Present. The Monist 50: 317–340. Parry, Richard D. 1979. The Unique World of the Timaeus. Journal of the History of Philosophy 17: 1–10. ———. 1991. The Intelligible World-Animal in Plato’s Timaeus. Journal of the History of Philosophy 29: 13–32. Patterson, R. 1981. The Unique Worlds of the Timaeus. Phoenix 35: 105–119. Petrucci, Federico M. 2021a. Divine Confirmation: Plato, Timaeus 55c7–d6. Classical Quarterly 71 (2): 886–891. ———. 2021b. Lo sguardo del demiurgo (Timeo 28a6–29a5) e la semantica di blepo nei dialoghi platonici. In Variazioni sul tema del vedere. Saggi sui Verba Videndi nella grecità classica, ed. Aronadio Francesco, 89–120. Napoli: Bibliopolis.

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———. 2022. Platone: Timeo, Introduzione di Franci Ferrari. Milano: Fondazione Lorenzo Valla. Rashed, Marwan. 2018. Une Analogie Méconnue Entre le Timée et les Lois. EPh 181: 115–137. Sedley, David. 2007. Creationism and Its Critics in Antiquity. Berkeley-Los Angeles-London: University of California Press. Sorabji, Richard. 1988. Matter, Space and Motion: Theories in Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages. London: Duckworth. Tarán, Leonardo. 1979. Perpetual Duration and Atemporal Eternity in Parmenides and Plato. The Monist 62 (1): 43–53. Thein, Karel. 2006. The Life Forms and Their Model in Plato’s Timaeus. Rhizai 3 (2): 241–273. ———. 2020. Planets and Time: A Timaean Puzzle. In Plato’s Timaeus: Proceedings of the Tenth Symposium Platonicum Pragense, ed. Chad Jorgensen, Filip Karfík, and Štepán Špinka, 92–111. Leiden: Brill. Whittaker, John. 1968. The Eternity of the Platonic Forms. Phronesis 13: 131–144. Zeyl, Donald J. 2010. Visualizing Platonic Space. In One Book the Whole Universe: Plato’s Timaeus Today, ed. Richard D. Mohr and Barbara M. Sattler, 117–130. Las Vegas: Parmenides Publishing.

7 Why Particulars “Play Both Sides” (Resp. 479b10)? Uniform and Multiform Entities in Plato’s Two-World Theory Filippo Forcignanò

1 Plato’s Dualism: Forms and Concrete Objects A “Two-World Theory” is conventionally ascribed to Plato, according to which there are on the one hand concrete objects and, on the other, intelligible entities devoid of matter. This metaphysical framework stipulates that the former, which is fleeting and contradictory, depend on the latter, which is unchanging and perpetually self-identical.1 Much has been  A very nice sketch of this framework is Patterson (1985, p. 108), who writes about the Phaedo: “Metaphysical essentialism claims a distinction between essential and accidental predicates in some absolute sense—or as it is sometimes put, a distinction independent of how an object is described. Socrates’ example implies only that if a thing is, say, three-numbered, it is always odd, so long as it may be (three-numbered). Thus threes (ta tria) or trios will perish or undergo anything else whatever before they endure to become even while being stile three (eti tria onta, 104c); the general point will hold whether or not ‘three’ refers to a Form of Three. Nothing need be assumed about three being an essential predicate of trios”. 1

F. Forcignanò (*) University of Milan, Milan, Italy e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 V. Ilievski et al. (eds.), Plato on Time and the World, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-28198-3_7

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written about this relationship of dependence, which Plato calls “participation”, and even more about Forms in themselves.2 Plato’s view about sensible things or objects has been less studied, or often considered just as an appendix to his conception of change.3 This is mainly due to the fact that Plato was the first to show himself uninterested in precisely qualifying this realm, which indeed is ex hypothesi not precisely qualifiable, but also to a misleading image of Plato’s philosophy, which has spanned the centuries and finds its iconic representation in Raffaello’s School of Athens. According to this image, which is based on a radical top-down interpretation of Plato’s metaphysics, the empirical realm is merely the sum of what participates in the intelligible one and, as such, uninteresting per se because of its lacking of ontological autonomy. As an imperfect copy of a perfect model, the empirical realm appears at first glance merely the faded image of the Forms. This interpretation, while correctly asserting the priority of the model over the copy, ignores the fact that Plato’s need for non-sensible models stems from a rather precise conception of the world we experience. This has been expressed very effectively by Michael Frede: “Plato only introduces his ideas, because he thinks of the ordinary objects of experience in a certain way”.4 It is precisely by experiencing the empirical world—and doing so in the way Platonic epistemology explains human experience—that we realise that it is incapable of justifying itself, for example in the emblematic case of the Equal mentioned in Phd. 74a5 ff., which states that we can indeed confuse equal and unequal things, but we cannot confuse Equality and Inequality. If it is true (as it is for Plato) that all so-called “equal things” are always also unequal in some respects (for reasons that will be better explained in the next section), while at the same time we know that Equality is in no way Inequality, then we necessarily possess the concept of Equality independently of the empirical realm (since no two “equal” entities are truly equal). But if we possess such a concept, there must necessarily be a corresponding entity, which is  My account on this topic is in Forcignanò (2017, passim).  White (1981) and McCabe (1994), which are de facto the two only monographs on this topic, are absent from the vast majority of papers on the notion of change in Plato (see, e.g., the recent magisterial Ademollo (2018)). 4  Frede (1988, p. 38). 2 3

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precisely the Form of Equality.5 It is certainly true that it is the Form of Equality that causes the (albeit imperfect) equality of the sensible, but the position of the Form is a consequence of the conception of the sensible things as entities incapable of fully representing a given feature. Explaining why the entities that populate the empirical realm are incapable of being fully F is one of Plato’s priorities. In the following pages, I will consider two emblematic passages: the first, from the fifth book of the Republic, emphasises the epistemological implications of the ontology of concrete objects proposed by Plato, which depend on a Parmenidean framework; the second, from the Timaeus, insists on the impossibility of qualifying a concrete object as a τοῦτο, confirming the Republic’s interpretation. The choice of these two dialogues responds to the aim of defending the continuity about concrete objects that I attribute to Plato. The two most extensive and thorough, though somewhat dated, studies on particulars or individuals in Plato’s metaphysics are White (1981) and McCabe (1994). As already acknowledged by others,6 both studies share a certain confusion and a strongly developmental reading of Plato’s philosophy. White (1981) believes that Plato held three different positions about particulars: i) in the Phaedo, particulars are understood as characterised particulars. This is a kind of essentialism, whereby an individual, e.g., a person, is essentially what she/he is (i.e., a human being) and, as such, is entitled to certain essential properties. There are also accidental properties, which the particular can lose without ceasing to be what it is. (ii) In the Republic, all properties are accidental and are properties of particular things, which are not essentially determined, but are bearers of properties. (iii) In the Timaeus, finally, particulars are bundles of qualities and they depend entirely on Forms. White’s proposal is a strongly developmental interpretation of the philosophy of Plato, who from time to time would have rejected the previous thesis about sensible  The Sticks and Stones Argument is much debated and has been interpreted in many different ways. I have defended the reading summarises here in Forcignanò (2018), where I argue not only for the non-identity of the concept of noema with the aistheta, but also that the Argument is intelligible, in Plato’s metaphysical framework, only if it also provides for the non-identity ot the noeton with the aistheta. I thank the volume’s referee for suggesting that I put the position I defend in these terms. 6  See the reviews and critics quoted below. 5

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things. In fact, i) and ii) are incompatible, because i) requires essential properties, while ii) does not; both options, however, consider particulars partially independent of Forms. On the other hand, (iii) not only opposes the essentialism of (i) and the accidental properties of (ii), but also states that the particulars are reflected in a three-dimensional space. White does not support his interpretation with solid arguments and struggles to demonstrate such abrupt changes of direction in Plato’s philosophy, in particular the strong difference between the Phaedo and the Republic.7 McCabe (1994) significantly uses the term “individuals” and not “particulars” because she believes that the problem of individuation is central to Plato’s thinking. An “individual” is, in her interpretation, an entity that provokes the “problem of individuation”. This lexical choice is itself problematic, as McCabe herself acknowledges: the term “individual” has no correspondence in the Platonic lexicon (as “particular”, anyway). This is not just a lexical issue: Plato opposes unity to multiplicity, not universality to particularity. McCabe is therefore right not to consider the Forms as universals, but Plato’s concern seems not to be with what makes these entities an individual, but what makes them (or not) a unit. It is also not really clear what McCabe means by “problem of individuation”, which is explained as “what makes an individual something, rather than some somethings (a bundle) or some stuff”.8 It does not seem to address either the Problem of Individuality (i.e. what makes an individual an entity capable of exhibiting properties and not something that can be exhibited by another entity), or the Problem of Numerical Differentiation (i.e. what makes an individual numerically different from other individuals of the same kind).9 This problem is described as the question of “how something that is, is something”, or, in a more philosophically refined way, how it is possible that something is “one something”.10 My impression is that, by doing this, McCabe overlaps the problem of individuation and that of unity.11 More generally, as White (1997, p.  525) pointed out,  See the excellent and highly critical reviews by Heinaman (1983) and Stalley (1983).  McCabe (1994, p. 18). 9  The reference is obviously to the debate around Castañeda (1975). 10  McCabe (1994, p. 4). 11  These issues are excellently discussed by Gentzler (1996).

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“McCabe […] exaggerates the intensity of Plato’s focus on issue concerning individuality”. In her view, having posited the Theory of Forms, Plato faced a dilemma: either unity is “austere”, so nothing can be said of it, or it is “generous”, so any bundle of properties is a unity. The later dialogues, in particular the Sophist and the Philebus, resolve the dilemma by making properties no longer parts of the object of which they are properties, but contextual properties, viz. properties determined in relation to something else (e.g., motion and stillness are mutually determined). McCabe also insists on the fact that it is Plato—and not Aristotle—who is the first to seriously address the problem of individuation and to propose a philosophically relevant solution. While Aristotle “claims that I can pick up individuals by virtue of the kinds to which they belong: being one is being of one of a kind”, Plato “does not consistently claim that the world is sorted by kinds. He maintains, rather, that being one is irreducible and basic—individuals, not kinds of individuals, are the basic items for metaphysics to study”.12 McCabe correctly emphasises the radical differences between these two models that also share the thesis that the properties of particulars are derivative. In very general terms, Plato and Aristotle share a realist model that requires that particulars exhibit the properties they have dependently or derivatively.13 The Aristotelian model explains that the object O has the property P because it has a mereological relation with certain constituents (those and not others), whereas the Platonic model takes the form of a relational ontology, according to which O has P because it has a non-mereological relation with certain entities that are not constituents of O because they are separate entities.14 Wolfgang-­ Rainer Mann, developing an intuition by Frede, reconstructed the conceptual framework in which Aristotle developed the doctrine of categories, tracing in it the discovery of “things”, i.e. concrete objects endowed with properties.15 Counterintuitive as this may be, it is a rather adequate résumé of the internal debate within the Old Academy on Plato’s metaphysics. As is obvious, Mann does not mean to say that for Plato there  McCabe (1994, p. 307).  Loux (2006, pp. 207–208). 14  See now the innovative and challenging Marmodoro (2022) for an alternative picture. 15  See Mann (2000). 12 13

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were no trees, chairs, or ships, but that in the absence of the notion of substratum and of properties that inhere in a substratum in a non-­ contradictory way, it is philosophically difficult to speak of “things” in the proper sense. Mann (2000) and even more clearly Buckels (2016, 2018, 2020) have attributed to Plato a conception of objects as bundles of tropes. Both believe that this position is found above all in the later dialogues and is confirmed mainly in the Timaeus, that deprives sensible things of any substantial dimension: they are images of Forms in the χώρα. The Receptacle is understood not as a substratum, but as a space in which the images of the models are reflected. Buckels (2016) in particular distinguished Platonic space from supersubstantivalist conception of space, which might, at first glance, seem akin to the ontology of Timaeus, because it declares spacetime ontologically prior than matter and attributes physical property not to matter but to spacetime itself. Buckels (2018) denies (I think rightly) that “Platonic particulars” are subjects of predication; they are rather images of Forms, but neither these nor the elementary triangles are “particulars”: they are precisely tropes.

2 Recognising Objects, Discerning Properties: The Fingers Example in Resp. V Platonic metaphysics is based on the following three conditions: i) all concrete objects have the characteristics they have derivatively, i.e., they depend on something else; ii) no concrete object simply has the characteristics A, B and C, which it shows, but also non-A, non-B, and non-C, which it also shows; iii) in the proper sense, an individual object not “is”, but “becomes”, while somehow retaining its own identity. In a passage of the Republic, Plato uses a very felicitous expression borrowed from political and military rhetoric to describe the status of sensible things: at 479b10 they are said ἐπαμφοτερίζουσιν ἔοικεν. The best translation of the verb is, perhaps, “to play a double game”, although in the passage from the Republic the allusion is to certain convivial riddles that play on

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double meanings and ambiguities. The example given is the riddle of the eunuch, who asked something like this: “What is that man not man who throws a stone not stone to a bird not bird that stands on a wood not wood?”.16 In the same book, we find a very challenging explanation of the bivalent nature of sensible things in relation to our ability to recognise them and to distinguish their properties (523c–524d). The problem posed does not directly concern the ontological status of things, but McCabe is right in saying that in general “Plato approaches the problem with particulars from an epistemological point of view; but now the epistemological problem is firmly tied to the ontological thesis that sensible particulars are complex entities”.17 Since Plato assumes the correspondence between the ontological status of objects and the epistemological status of assertions about objects, he cannot evade the first point. The argument at hand concerns the difference between cases in which perception does not require rational discernment because what the senses give back is adequate to recognise the perceived object and cases in which reason has to distinguish contradictory perceptual data: Δείκνυμι δή, εἶπον, εἰ καθορᾷς, τὰ μὲν ἐν ταῖς αἰσθήσεσιν οὐ παρακαλοῦντα τὴν νόησιν εἰς ἐπίσκεψιν, ὡς ἱκανῶς ὑπὸ τῆς αἰσθήσεως κρινόμενα, τὰ δὲ παντάπασι διακελευόμενα ἐκείνην ἐπισκέψασθαι, ὡς τῆς αἰσθήσεως οὐδὲν ὑγιὲς ποιούσης (523a10–b4). I will show, I said, whether you consider that certain objects of perception do not summon the reason to inquire because they are sufficiently distinguished by perception itself, while others absolutely compel it to inquire because perception produces nothing sound.

The importance of this point, on which the reader is invited to dwell carefully, is signalled by the completely wrong answer of Glaucon, who has no doubt (δῆλον ὅτι) that Socrates is thinking of σκιαγραφία (b5–6), and by the reply of Socrates, who with a certain severity declares that his  The man not man is the eunuch; the stone not stone is the pumice stone, which is thrown but off target; the bird not bird is the bat; finally, the wood not wood is the reed. The riddle is not to be understood literally, so the sense is not that the eunuch is still a man, albeit of a particular type, but it simply serves to make the use of the verb ἐπαμφοτερίζειν accessible in a non-military context. 17  McCabe (1994, p. 65). 16

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interlocutor didn’t understand anything (b7: οὑ πάνυ…ἔτυχης οὗ λέγω). The misunderstanding, which may, at first sight, seem to be a simple dialogical passage, is in fact very important, because it stops in the bud a completely wrong interpretation of the problem under discussion: Socrates does not mean to say that, in some cases, perception deceives itself, e.g., when it judges the stick dipped in water to be broken; he rather means that in some cases perception discloses that it is structurally unable to sufficiently distinguish what it perceives. A second, decisive distinction is thus introduced, i.e., that between cases that do not generate two opposite perceptions at the same time (τὰ μὲν οὐ παρακαλοῦντα…ὅσα μὴ ἐκβαίνει εἰς ἐναντίαν αἴσθησιν ἅμα) and cases where perception does not clarify which of the two horns is to be preferred (ἐπειδὰν ἡ αἴσθησις μηδὲν μᾶλλον τοῦτο ἢ τὸ ἐναντίον δηλοῖ). The adverb ἅμα is diriment: Plato does not mean that, at different times, the same object can be perceived differently, but that two opposite perceptions occur at the same time. The non-philosophically educated readers have no hope of understanding what Socrates means, so Plato introduces an everyday, extremely simple and clear example: the perception of fingers (c4–6). In fact, anyone can recognise a thumb, an index, and a middle finger: Δάκτυλος μέν που αὐτῶν φαίνεται ὁμοίως ἕκαστος, καὶ ταύτῃ γε οὐδὲν διαφέρει, ἐάντε ἐν μέσῳ ὁρᾶται ἐάντ' ἐπ' ἐσχάτῳ, ἐάντε λευκὸς ἐάντε μέλας, ἐάντε παχὺς ἐάντε λεπτός, καὶ πᾶν ὅτι τοιοῦτον. ἐν πᾶσι γὰρ τούτοις οὐκ ἀναγκάζεται τῶν πολλῶν ἡ ψυχὴ τὴν νόησιν ἐπερέσθαι τί ποτ' ἐστὶ δάκτυλος· οὐδαμοῦ γὰρ ἡ ὄψις αὐτῇ ἅμα ἐσήμηνεν τὸ δάκτυλον τοὐναντίον ἢ δάκτυλον εἶναι. Each of them, I’d say, appears exactly as a finger, and in this respect it makes no difference whether it is seen in the middle or at either end, or if it is white or black, thick or thin, and the same in any similar cases. For, in all these cases, the soul of the majority of people is not compelled to ask the reason what a finger is, because in no way sight simultaneously provides evidence that it was a finger and the opposite of a finger.

The finger as perceived object is sufficiently distinguishable and discernible from the rest: it is in fact recognised as a finger and not as “the opposite of a finger”, an expression which clearly does not imply the

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existence of something that is actually the opposite of a finger. There is no possibility of being mistaken, at least for the majority of people: what you see is exactly a finger, not a tree or a nose. But if we move from the recognition of objects to the identification of its characteristics, the scenario changes radically: Τί δὲ δή; τὸ μέγεθος αὐτῶν καὶ τὴν σμικρότητα ἡ ὄψις ἆρα ἱκανῶς ὁρᾷ, καὶ οὐδὲν αὐτῇ διαφέρει ἐν μέσῳ τινὰ αὐτῶν κεῖσθαι ἢ ἐπ' ἐσχάτῳ; καὶ ὡσαύτως πάχος καὶ λεπτότητα ἢ μαλακότητα καὶ σκληρότητα ἡ ἁφή; καὶ αἱ ἄλλαι αἰσθήσεις ἆρ' οὐκ ἐνδεῶς τὰ τοιαῦτα δηλοῦσιν; ἢ ὧδε ποιεῖ ἑκάστη αὐτῶν· πρῶτον μὲν ἡ ἐπὶ τῷ σκληρῷ τεταγμένη αἴσθησις ἠνάγκασται καὶ ἐπὶ τῷ μαλακῷ τετάχθαι, καὶ παραγγέλλει τῇ ψυχῇ ὡς ταὐτὸν σκληρόν τε καὶ μαλακὸν αἰσθανομένη; (523e3–524e4). What about this? Does the sight sufficiently discern the size and smallness of the fingers, and does it make no difference to it whether they are in the middle or at the sides? And equally with the touch, does it make no difference whether it is about thickness or thinness, softness or hardness? And for the other senses? Do they not also improperly reveal similar features? Is it not thus that each of them acts, I mean firstly that the sense in charge of hardness is also forced to be set over softness, and it has to tell the soul that the same thing has been perceived as both hard and soft?

The features or characteristics mentioned in these passages can be understood as properties; however, the very notion of “property”, if it is not used very loosely, can lead to anachronisms and misunderstandings, such as the one Nehamas has fallen into, in my opinion. He indeed believes that the passage contrasts contradictory properties such as “being big” and “being small” and non-contradictory properties such as “being a finger”. He therefore concludes that the passage contrasts two classes of properties and to define the second class “we need look at nothing other than the particulars which bear them”.18 The main difference between the two classes is that “being a finger” or “being a man” are nominal (i.e., substantial) while “being large” or “being white” are adjectival (i.e., non-­ substantial). The first class is expressed by names, the second by 18

 Nehamas (1972-1973, p. 468).

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adjectives; the first by complete predicates, the second by incomplete ones.19 Within the framework of Platonic philosophy, however, there is no reason to consider “being a finger” and “being thin” homogeneous, because “being a finger” for Plato is not a property, if property means a characteristic that an object has.20 A finger is a finger, not an entity that manifests the property of being a finger. Above all, the passage is not about definition, as Nehamas thinks, but about recognition.21 Senses cannot provide a definition at all, in Plato’s opinion. What senses can do is just to adequately recognise22 that that a thing is a finger and not something else, but they do not—and cannot—answer the question “what is a finger?”.23 Conversely, in the case of thickness and thinness, softness and hardness, senses have no way of clarifying whether that finger is thick or thin, because it is both thick and thin (i.e., thick versus a thin finger, thin versus a thick finger; thick for some, thin for others, and so on). McCabe thinks that the finger passage of the Republic “moves the compresence of opposites up a level, by acknowledging that not only particulars, but also the properties of particulars, may suffer compresence”.24 The passage does not seem to make this move. It does not say, in fact, that both the particulars and their characteristics (or properties) are contradictory because we perceive the compresence of A and non-A; rather, the particulars are contradictory precisely because they bear contradictory characteristics.25 Only these can contradict each other, not particulars qua particulars: a finger cannot oppose the non-finger (clearly “the opposite of a finger” does not denote anything), but thickness opposes thinness. The fingers example of the Republic makes it clear that senses cannot  Nehamas (1972-1973, pp. 469–70).  Also White (1981, p. 108) thinks that Plato’s metaphysics involves the property “being a finger”. 21  Cf. Patterson (1985, p. 105). 22  For the meaning of ἱκανῶς in similar contexts see Blank (1986), who argues rightly that it does not mean “fully adequate”, but “adequate to achieve ὁμολογία”. 23  In my opinion, for Plato this question is meaningless. Not only because the finger is an individual entity, of which there is no definition, but above all because it is a part of a whole and not a whole itself, so there is no definition of it because there is no Form of it. The denial of the Forms of parts can be found clearly expressed in Syrianus In metaph. 107, 12–14 Kroll. 24  McCabe (1994, p. 65). 25  Cf. Prm. 129a ff. 19 20

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discern the contradictory characteristics of things, but it does not explain how they are constituted and why they exhibit such characteristics. This is because, as clarified, the passage is not concerned with the ontological status of objects, but with the problem of perception. However, in the dialogues, including the Republic itself, there are various passages where Plato clearly distinguishes two domains of reality, i.e., the empirical and the intelligible, attributing significantly different characteristics to each.

3 From Anaxagoras to Plato’s “Middle Period” Metaphysics According to White, when Plato wrote the Phaedo “the problem of opposites was given its first major consideration as a problem of particulars, this was not done in vacuo. Plato was already in possession of a well-­ worked theory of particulars”.26 On the one hand, this statement makes good sense, because Plato at least sketched a certain image of the empirical objects in order to oppose them to the Forms also before the Phaedo. On the other hand, however, tracing a theory of particulars before the so-called “middle period” is not easy, and White does not succeed in showing it convincingly. In this respect, Phd. 78b is another key passage, because it states, for the first time in such clear terms, that there are two orders of reality (δύο εἴδη τῶν ὄντων) and that one concerns the non-­ visible realm (ἀιδές) and the other the visible one (ὁρατόν). Concrete objects fall into this second order. Very relevant is what the Phaedo adds, namely that Forms are monoeidetic or uniform entities (μονοειδές), while particulars are polyeidetic or multiform ones (πολυειδές). For his entire philosophical activity Plato will never deny that a μονοειδές-­entity is by definition unmixed, devoid of parts, and simple. Such an entity cannot be subject to becoming. For this reason, Plato thinks that such an entity is “pure”. In McCabe’s words, the notion of “purity” means that “if Plato supposes that any form is what it is to be (equal, large, whatever), then 26

 White (1981, p. 43).

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the form may have the simple nature of whatever property it explains”.27 Having established the difference between the two orders of reality, Plato introduces the theme of the changing of the empirical realm at 78d1–e4: αὐτὴ ἡ οὐσία ἧς λόγον δίδομεν τοῦ εἶναι καὶ ἐρωτῶντες καὶ ἀποκρινόμενοι, πότερον ὡσαύτως ἀεὶ ἔχει κατὰ ταὐτὰ ἢ ἄλλοτ' ἄλλως; αὐτὸ τὸ ἴσον, αὐτὸ τὸ καλόν, αὐτὸ ἕκαστον ὃ ἔστιν, τὸ ὄν, μή ποτε μεταβολὴν καὶ ἡντινοῦν ἐνδέχεται; ἢ ἀεὶ αὐτῶν ἕκαστον ὃ ἔστι, μονοειδὲς ὂν αὐτὸ καθ' αὑτό, ὡσαύτως κατὰ ταὐτὰ ἔχει καὶ οὐδέποτε οὐδαμῇ οὐδαμῶς ἀλλοίωσιν οὐδεμίαν ἐνδέχεται; Ὡσαύτως, ἔφη, ἀνάγκη, ὁ Κέβης, κατὰ ταὐτὰ ἔχειν, ὦ Σώκρατες. […]28 Τί δὲ τῶν πολλῶν καλῶν, οἷον ἀνθρώπων ἢ ἵππων ἢ ἱματίων ἢ ἄλλων ὡντινωνοῦν τοιούτων, ἢ ἴσων [ἢ καλῶν] ἢ πάντων τῶν ἐκείνοις ὁμωνύμων; ἆρα κατὰ ταὐτὰ ἔχει, ἢ πᾶν τοὐναντίον ἐκείνοις οὔτε αὐτὰ αὑτοῖς οὔτε ἀλλήλοις οὐδέποτε ὡς ἔπος εἰπεῖν οὐδαμῶς κατὰ ταὐτά; What about the Being itself whose being we give an account of in asking and in answering questions? Is it always constant and in the same state or is it in different states at different times? Does the equal itself, the beautiful itself, each ‘what is’ itself, that which is, ever admit of any change whatsoever? Or is each ‘what is’ of them, being uniform itself by itself, always constant and in the same state, never admitting of any alteration in any wat at all? […] And what about the many beautiful things, like human beings or horses or cloaks or any other thing of that sort, or the equals, or all the thing which bear the same name as those items? Are they in the same state or, in complete contrast to those items, are they, so to speak,29 never in any way in the same state as themselves or each other?30

 McCabe (1994, p. 66).  Cebes answers affirmatively. 29  Some interpreters have emphasised ὡς ἔπος εἰπεῖν, suggesting that it is an invitation to take what is said lightly (recently, Ademollo 2018, pp. 38 ff.). It is a reasonable point: Socrates surely does not mean that, at every instant, sensible things change completely in every aspect, but that they are nevertheless subject to change in general. If you think about it, some changes in the human body are sudden (e.g., the change of place through movement), others decidedly slower (e.g., cellular ageing). 30  The translation is by Gallop, modified by Ademollo (in Ademollo 2018, p. 37). 27 28

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The contrast between the two εἴδη of beings is radical. The passage clearly establishes the distinction between uniform and multiform entities: being μονοειδές means being αὐτὸ καθ’ αὑτό and ὡσαύτως κατὰ ταὐτὰ ἔχει καὶ οὐδέποτε οὐδαμῇ οὐδαμῶς ἀλλοίωσιν οὐδεμίαν ἐνδέχεται. Symposium 210e ff. belongs to the same epistemological and ontological framework of the locus of the Phaedo commented above and it offers a detailed list of features of a μονοειδές-entity: it always is (ἀεὶ ὄν), i.e., neither comes into being nor dies (οὔτε γιγνόμενον οὔτε ἀπολλύμενον); it neither increases nor decreases (οὔτε αὐξανόμενον οὔτε φθίνον); it is not F and non-F regarding the same characteristic31 (οὐ τῇ μὲν καλόν, τῇ δ’ αἰσχρόν); it is not F in one certain situation and non-F in another one (οὐδὲ τοτὲ μὲν, τοτὲ δὲ οὔ); it is not F regarding one thing and non-F regarding another one (οὐδὲ πρὸς μὲν τὸ καλόν, πρὸς δὲ τὸ αἰσχρόν); it is not F here and not-F there (οὐδ’ ἔνθα μὲν καλόν, ἔνθα δὲ αἰσχρόν); it is not F for someone and non-F for someone else (ὡς τισὶ μὲν ὄν καλόν, τισὶ δὲ αἰσχρόν); it does not appear as a face, hands or something with a body (οἷον πρόσωπόν τι οὐδὲ χεῖρες οὐδὲ ἄλλο οὐδὲν ὧν σῶμα μετέχει), or a discourse or a knowledge (οὐδέ τις λόγος οὐδέ τις ἐπιστήμη), or as something that is in other (οὐδὲ που ὄν ἐν ἑτέρῳ τινι), but as something that is in itself by itself (αὐτὸ καθ’ αὑτοῦ) and always uniform in respect to itself (μεθ’ αὑτοῦ μονοειδές ἀεὶ ὄν). If, therefore, anyone ever happens to see a μονοειδές-entity, he will see an entity in itself, sharp (εἰλικρινές), pure (καθαρόν), unmixed (ἄμεικτον) and uncontaminated by mortal and corporeal characteristics. Like in the Phaedo, also here the features of μονοειδές-entities are obtained by negation from the characteristics of concrete objects. The only features of μονοειδές-entities that are expressed by affirmation are, so to speak, “empty”: expressions such as αὐτὸ καθ’ αὑτοῦ and attributes such as εἰλικρινές, καθαρόν, ἄμεικτον actually affirm nothing in positive; rather, they pinpoint again the opposition of what is in itself in relation to sensible things.

31

 Τὸ καλόν is just one example of a μονοειδές-entity.

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Plato recognises a constitutive insufficiency in the empirical realm, whereby nothing that what is called F is not really F, but only approximately F. Nehamas (among others) has rightly spoken of a “Parmenidean Framework” underlying this view of empirical dimension, and has linked it to the so-called “Self-Predication Assumption” (e.g., “the beauty is beautiful”).32 Nehamas’ thesis is that Self-Predication is a way of qualifying the definiendum before its definition. Vlastos accused Nehamas of interpreting the Self-Predication as a tautology, but this is an out-of-focus objection.33 The statement “F is F”, when referring to the Forms, is not just a trivial identity, but an informative one, because it is a statement that has cognitive value. It informs that there exist some entities that are fully and truly F. Self-predication is not the result of a philosophical investigation, but its presupposition: if there were no μονοειδές-entities that are properly F, knowledge would be impossible at all, because there would only be πολυειδές-entities characterised by their own intrinsic contradiction. Being F of the Form F is not an a posteriori discovery that is achieved through philosophical investigation, but the condition of the possibility of the investigation itself. I fully agree with Nehamas’ thesis that SelfPredication precedes the Theory of Forms and that it is “a truth known antecedently, which can even supply a condition of adequacy on the Form’s definition: whatever the F itself turns out to be, it must be F in a suitable sense; and this sense in turn involves always and in every case being F”.34 This does not mean, however, that only F is F, because if we

 Cf. Nehamas (1979). I have given my interpretation of this framework in … (2017, pp. 13 ff.).  Vlastos (1981). Contra Silverman (1990). 34  Nehamas (1979, p. 51). Actually, I do not believe that Self-Predication is a correct way of understanding Plato’s metaphysics, as I attempted to argue in Forcignanò (2017). However, for the purposes of this paper it can be taken mildly, as the affirmation of the existence of an F of which only F can be properly said. This assumption does not imply any regress, therefore it does not generate the Third Man Argument (TMA). For it to be generated, in fact, it is necessary that Form F has the characteristic F or, in Plato’s lexicon, that it becomes F. This can only happen if the Form has F, because the Form’s having F implies that another F-entity has endowed it with F: at which point the regress is inevitable. If, however, “F is F” means that only the Form (and not, e.g., sensible things) can be properly F because it is what F means (i.e., it does not have that characteristic, but it is that characteristic). I fully agree with Marmodoro (2022, p. 153): “the problem is that if a Form F becomes f, a regress of f-becoming follows; but if a Form does not become f, there is no explanation of its being f”. Marmodoro’s solution to the dilemma of whether or not Plato is exposed to TMA is illuminating. 32 33

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assume that F is, e.g., holy, we can of course still say that “Justice is holy” (“J is F”).35 The Parmenidean Framework is the major reason why it is right to say that Plato did not work on the empirical realm in vacuo (even if White understands it differently from me). There is, however, another reason and that is the philosophy of Anaxagoras. The legacy of Anaxagoras in Plato’s philosophy and in the Old Academy is an understudied topic, although there are some pioneering studies on it.36 This topic has recently found new life thanks to a strong interpretative proposal of the role of Anaxagoras’ metaphysics in Plato by Anna Marmodoro.37 In Marmodoro’s view, it is impossible to understand Plato’s “metaphysics of structures” without investigating the role that Anaxagoras’ ontology played in it. In fact, Anaxagoras’ ontology involves two types of entities, i.e., properties and structures. This reading is based on the thesis that Anaxagoras’ ontology includes both seeds and opposites.38 The former, for Marmodoro, are structures, while the latter are properties. Reality is made up of structures and properties (which have causal power).39 Properties have a very peculiar causal efficacy, that Marmodoro calls “constitutional causation”, according to which a property qualifies an object when it shares parts of that property; since properties are Opposites, an object become F when  It seems to me that this is the major (and perhaps only) weakness of Nehamas’ proposal, which perfectly and intelligently explains “F is F”, but not “J is F”. In fact, if “F is F” means that only F is F, “J is F” either means that only justice is holy (so it is a variation of “F is F”, because F includes the holy), or it means that justice is also holy, but it is not the holy in the proper sense, because only this can be called F. See Heinamann (1989, pp. 70–73) and Trabattoni (2004, p. 285). 36  Fundamental are Denyer (1983) and Dancy (1991). I discussed the key role of Anaxagoras’s philosophy and lexicon in Plato’s Parmenides in Forcignanò (2022). 37  See Marmodoro (2017) for her interpretation of Anaxagoras’ ontology and Marmodoro (2022) (in part. Chapters 1 and 2) for the link between that ontology and Plato’s metaphysics. 38  The thesis that the primitive elements of Anaxagoras’ ontology are the opposites was introduced by Tannery (1886), but it became popular mainly thanks to Cornford 1930 and Vlastos 1950. Already in Theophrastus (see A 92 DK = D 70, 72, 73, 74, 78, 79b LM) the role of opposites is emphasised; moreover, there is frequent reference in the surviving fragments to pairs of opposites. One of the key fragments is B 4 DK (= D 12, 13 LM), but it also mentions the earth and the seeds of all things, not just opposites; another is B 8 DK (= D 22 LM), in which, however, the hot-cold opposition could be chosen because it is particularly illustrative; finally, B 15 DK (= D 30) describes a cosmogonic stage and not the building blocks of compounds. Critics of the opposites-thesis include at least Stokes (1965), Mann (1980), Teodorsson (1982, pp.  30–33) and Curd (2002, pp. 153–155). 39  Here the term “properties” is to be understood as “material properties” (e.g., “being hot”). 35

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the Opposite F is in it, viz. when the object has parts of F. The main difference between Anaxagoras and Plato is correctly identified by her in the fact that Opposites are, for the former, literally parts of things, while for the latter powers are transcendent, although (but I disagree on this point) before the Timaeus Plato defends a model of participation by overlapping, later replaced (again, in dialogue with Anaxagoras) by symmetric relations (“joint-partaking”) and asymmetric relations (“parallel-­ partaking”). The second main difference, according to Marmodoro’s interpretation, is that Anaxagoras does not recognise structures as properties, whereas Plato does. By this Marmodoro does not mean to say that for Plato properties and structures coincide; on the contrary, opposite properties are not structures. In fact, in her interpretation structures are not μονοειδές-entity (i.e., a Triangle is not uniform), whereas Forms of opposites are.40 The framework proposed by Marmodoro is as brilliant as open to objections; I do not intend to adopt it, nor to extensively discuss it here. Among its many merits is certainly the fact that Marmodoro has intelligently shown that Anaxagoras’ ontology is an important philosophical antecedent for Plato because it is an efficient explanatory model based on primitive elements and compounds, which Plato surely rejects, but at the same time it is precisely through this rejection that he acquires some of the conceptual tools useful for proposing an alternative mereological model.41 Proof of this is Plato’s use of Anaxagoras’ ontology key words. This topic is decisive, because it proves that Anaxagoras is not only (as Marmodorus shows) a philosophical antecedent of the Platonic conception of concrete objects, but also that there is an undeniable lexical and conceptual dependency between Plato’s and Anaxagoras’s methexis-­ lexicon. This is particularly evident in fragments B6 DK (= D 25 LM) and 12 DK (= D 27 LM). In the first fragment we read that it is not possible for the μοῖραι of what is large and small to exist χωρίς, but precisely  This is not Plato’s last position, according to Marmodoro, but since in the Timaeus the constitutional overlap is replaced by imitation and Demiurge, which are not explanatory in the way of Anaxagoras’ model, the relationship between the two philosophers progressively wanes. 41  I fully agree with Marmodoro’s thesis that Anaxagoras and Plato are the pioneers of mereology. 40

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because they are equal according to the πλῆθος all things participate in everything42; for this reason neither χωρισθῆναι nor being generated ἐφ’ἑαυτοῦ are possible. In the second fragment, νοῦς is called ἄπειρον καὶ αὐτοκρατὲς καὶ μέμεικται οὐδενὶ χρήματι, ἀλλὰ μόνος αὐτὸς ἐφ’ ἑαυτοῦ ἐστιν. It is the only principle in the metaphysics of Anaxagoras that is not material and, for this reason, is indeed “unlimited, autocratic [i.e. master of itself ], and not mixed with anything, but it alone is in itself and for itself ”. If it were not so (εἰ μὴ γὰρ ἐφ’ ἑαυτου ἦν), then it would be mixed with something else (ἐμέμεικτο ἄλλω) and would therefore participate in all things (μετεῖχεν ἄν ἁπάντων χρημάτων). This is why in all things there is a part of each thing (as affirmed by B 11 DK = D 26 LM) and, if the νοῦς were mixed with things,43 these would limit its productive power over the things themselves.44 Anaxagoras is not the first to declare the non-original character of compounds, since we find a similar explanation in Empedocles, but the lexical affinities with Plato and the importance of the philosopher of Clazomenae in the intellectual life of Athens suggest that his philosophy is the main reference in this regard.45 Anaxagoras holds that what is properly F is ­literally in the compounds, whereas Plato holds that it cannot have a corporeal nature and is therefore a separate entity. This aspect, however, is not what interests me here. The side to be considered concerns sensible  πάντα παντὸς μοῖραν μετέχει. Anaxagoras made the verb μετέχειν, whose main use was not philosophical, philosophically meaningful by using it together with μέρος. Unlike the Latin participio, which contains pars, the Greek verb does not include the notion of “part” at all: “μετέχω is ἔχω mit Partitiv [...] Der Partitiv bezeichnet hier den allgemeinen Bereich der Teilnahme, während ein bestimmter Teil, den jemand erhält, im Akkusativ steht”: Schwyzer (1950, p.  103). For an excellent discussion of the philosophical use of μετέχειν before and in Plato see (Herrmann 2007, passim). 43  This is, in my opinion, the only possible translation of τὰ συμμειγμένα, which cannot mean “the things mixed together”, because “things” are not seeds, but compounds of seeds (otherwise the recurring expression μοῖραν ἔχειν/μετέχειν in B 6 DK = D 25 LM, B 11 and 12 would be meaningless). Like Kirk-Raven-Schofield and Mansfeld, also Laks and Most translate correctly, unlike many others, “the things that would be mixed with it”. 44  According to an insightful image proposed by Lapini (2003, p. 117), the νοῦς would operate like a sculptor working inside the marble block. 45  The main reference can only be to Socrates’ intellectual autobiography in Phaed. 97c ff.), but also very relevant is Apol. 26d-e, where we read that the book of Anaxagoras was very popular in Athens and could be found on stalls for an affordable price. 42

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things, not Forms: they exhibit properties that they possess derivatively (by participation) and, therefore, are not properly what they are, because they participate in contradictory Forms. The reference to Anaxagorean ontology, so profoundly revolutionised by Plato, fully explains why sensible things ἐπαμφοτερίζουσιν. They are structurally multiform because they are composed, as correctly explained by Anaxagoras, who is nevertheless wrong to place what is uniform, hence fully F, within them as building blocks.

4 Why Can’t What Always Changes Be a τοῦτο, But Only τὸ τοιοῦτον? Brief Notes on Tim. 49b2–50a4 Few passages in Plato’s corpus have been as battered by criticism as the two pages 49b–50a of the Timaeus. The reason is that they propose a peculiar image of sensible things and their relation to Forms, made possible by the problematic (χαλεπὸν καὶ ἀμυδρόν, 49a3) introduction of a third kind, i.e., the χώρα. It is a τρίτον ἄλλο γένος which is here added to the two already established by the Phaedo and referred to in Tim. 28a, where the εἶδος παραδείγματος, which is intelligible and always selfidentical, and the μίμημα (material and mobile) παραδείγματος are contrasted.46 The key passage that interests me here has a premise that illustrates the reasons for the further discussion on the nature of the elements. In order to ἐναργέστερον εἰπεῖν about the third kind, it is necessary to better understand the elements, i.e., to provide a “reliable and stable account” (τινὶ πιστῷ καὶ βεβαίῳ…λόγῳ) about which sort of thing “one should really call water rather than fire, or which one one should call some one of these rather than just any and every one of them”47 (ὁποῖον ὄντως ὕδωρ χρὴ λέγειν μᾶλλον ἢ πῦρ, καὶ ὁποῖον ὁτιοῦν μᾶλλον ἢ καὶ ἅπαντα καθ’ ἕκαστόν τε, οὕτως ὥστε τινὶ πιστῷ  In the iunctura εἶδος παραδείγματος it is not possible that εῖδος means Form, otherwise a Form of the παραδείγμα (which is a Form) would have to be introduced: see Bergomi (2011, p. 111). 47  All translation of the Timaeus are by Zeyl (2000). 46

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καὶ βεβαίῳ χρήσασθαι λόγῳ). The βεβαιότης of the discourse on the elements depends on the βεβαιότης of the object of discourse (i.e., the elements themselves). As with all entities subject to change, the elements also lack stability and are not what is properly F. For water is transformed by condensation into stone and earth, and by evaporation into breath and air, which in turn by combustion becomes fire, and so for all changes of state. The passage has significant cautionary formulas, as ἑς δοκοῦμεν (49b8), ὡς φαίνεται (c7), φανταζομένων (d1). I don’t think these are just rhetorical devices: Plato will worry later (54b–d, 56c–57b) about limiting the radical change of all elements through geometrical composition, which prevents anything from becoming anything else. Sensible things therefore appear as they appear not as optical illusions. What we are presented with is a flowing world, about which, nevertheless, in one way or another, we can decently talk, seeking that minimal stability that is present in it. It depends on eidetic entities, such as geometric entities in the case of the Timaeus. Any kind of stability depends on non-empirical stable entities, whose “presence” in the structure of the world the Timaeus traces more than other dialogues. The passage I am here addressing has a certain affinity with the ending of the Cratylus (438b8 ff.), where the eponymous character makes use of the μεχανή of the deity who gives names. What we are looking for, however, Socrates replies, is in all evidence outside the names (δῆλον ὅτι ἄλλ’ ἄτττα ζητητέα πλὴν ὀνομάτων: 438d5–6). The affinity between the passages consists not so much in the shared proclamation of the instability of the empirical realm, but in our ability to talk about it by giving names to what changes. The next lines of the Timaeus are the most difficult, especially since two significantly different translations are possible, which in the light of Zeyl (2000, lvi ff.) can be called Traditional (T) and Alternative (A) ones. (A) was proposed by Cherniss (1954) against (T), which had already been established. (A) was subsequently defended by Lee (1967), but criticised by Gulley (1960) and Zeyl (2000, summarising earlier positions). In short, the difference between (T) and (A) is as follows: (T) states that the fire we see cannot be labelled as a τόδε but as τὸ τοιοῡτον, so we will not say “this is fire”, but “what is such” is fire. (T) does not invite us to dismiss the name “fire” in reference to phenomenal fire, but only to

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consider that it is not the fire, i.e., it is not properly F. The theoretical background of (T) is exactly the same as that of Self-Predication (insofar it is to be understood as a premise not a conclusion of philosophical enquiry). I mean that (T) entails that whatever it may be, there is an F that is properly F: being properly F, it is a τόδε. Let us assume that F is what is really Fire; it alone can properly be called “fire”, but this does not mean that we must renounce calling what appears to be fire “fire”. Quite the opposite, (A) invites instead not to attribute “fire” to a τόδε, where τόδε stands for particular “fire”-things that we see; τὸ τοιοῦτον (i.e. the Fire) alone should be call “fire”. Self-Predication, as I have described it, works in (A) as well. The particular “fire”-thing we see undergoes transformation and is therefore not fire, so even when it manifests itself as fire we should not call it “fire”. If we say of O “this is fire”, indeed, we attribute to it βεβαιότης, i.e., stability it does not have at all. However, there are things that are always τὸ τοιοῦτον (i.e., are always such, i.e., fire) and these alone deserve the name (i.e., “fire”). The translation I consider preferable is (T), but none of the critics of (A) have succeeded, in my opinion, in demonstrating that Cherniss (1954) proposes an incorrect translation of the text. (T) seems preferable because it seems to me that it corresponds to what Plato thinks should be said of sensible things; since (T) is grammatically and syntactically possible and this can be defended against (A), it is to be preferred. (A) commits Plato to saying that phenomena cannot be named because the “parts” of the flow cannot be distinguished. Participation, if understood as relation between Forms and particular things, does not seem to me to be disposed of in the Timaeus. It is only articulated differently through the intervention of the Demiurge (which, it is well to remember, is still within a “verisimilar narrative”). Participation, as I was claiming, allows that minimal stability which, in turn, allows naming.48 It seems to me that this is confirmed by the justification of the τόδε-lexicon that concerns the χὡρα at 50b6–c6:

 On this point see also Miller (2003, pp. 78 ff.).

48

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ὁ αὐτὸς δὴ λόγος καὶ περὶ τῆς τὰ πάντα δεχομένης σώματα φύσεως. ταὐτὸν αὐτὴν ἀεὶ προσρητέον· ἐκ γὰρ τῆς ἑαυτῆς τὸ παράπαν οὐκ ἐξίσταται δυνάμεως—δέχεταί τε γὰρ ἀεὶ τὰ πάντα, καὶ μορφὴν οὐδεμίαν ποτὲ οὐδενὶ τῶν εἰσιόντων ὁμοίαν εἴληφεν οὐδαμῇ οὐδαμῶς· ἐκμαγεῖον γὰρ φύσει παντὶ κεῖται, κινούμενόν τε καὶ διασχηματιζόμενον ὑπὸ τῶν εἰσιόντων, φαίνεται δὲ δι’ ἐκεῖνα ἄλλοτε ἀλλοῖον—τὰ δὲ εἰσιόντα καὶ ἐξιόντα τῶν ὄντων ἀεὶ μιμήματα, τυπωθέντα ἀπ' αὐτῶν τρόπον τινὰ δύσφραστον καὶ θαυμαστόν, ὃν εἰς αὖθις μέτιμεν. Now the same account holds also for that nature49 [i.e., χώρα] which receives all the bodies [i.e., sensible things, not just the elements].50 We must always refer to it by the same term, for it does not depart from its own character in any way [i.e., unlike fire, which can become water]. Not only does it always receive all things, it has never in any way whatever taken on any characteristic similar to any of the things that enter it. Its nature is to be available for anything to make its impression upon, and it is modified, shaped, and reshaped by the things that enter it. These are the things that make it appear different at different times. The things that enter and leave it are imitations of those things that always are, imprinted after their likeness in a marvellous way that is hard to describe.51

In all evidence, what makes the τόδε-lexicon admissible for the χὡρα is its βεβαιότης: in fact, it has a very precise nature, i.e., that of not having any specific characteristic, but of being able to accommodate them all, because it is the “place” in which they are inscribed. It is the sensible things that have no stability, except for the provisional one that allows us to speak of them with a certain approximation, as images of Forms. As said, Buckels (2018) among others insists on the spatial and non-­ material nature of the third kind. This is a reasonable way of interpreting the text, but it cannot be ignored that some references in the text suggest

 Here φύσις obviously means somethings identifiable in a stable way, not a particular thing, as proved by the following ἐκμαγεῖον γὰρ φύσει παντὶ κεῖται. 50  Contra Miller (2003, p. 97). 51  The additions in square brackets are mine, not Zeyl’s translation. 49

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a possible quasi-material interpretation.52 The above description as something that is continually reshaped (διασχηματιζόμενον: 50c3, but see also 53b4), the possibility of talk about it using verbs such as πλάσσω (and compounds), or expression as τις τῶν μαλακῶν (50e8), suggest that it is not just space. More generally, the craftsman-like action of the Demiurge, who appears as if he literally put his hands in the χώρα to give it shape, seems more appropriate to a mouldable material than space. In contrast, the term χὡρα, which refers to a portion of land and is associated by Plato with terms such as ἕδρα (literally “chair”, but by extension “place”) and ὑποδοχή (which, however one understands it, refers to “receiving”, whose lexical sphere is very frequent in the text: 50c1, e1, e5, 51e2–3, etc.) may suggest a non-material interpretation of the third kind. Anyway, the immense debate on this point presents a somewhat bizarre aspect, so to speak: although Plato’s text is full of references so allusive and metaphorical that they can be interpreted in both senses (e.g., is the χώρα “mother” because it provides matter or because it welcomes “things”?), many interpreters seek in it a rigour and clarity that are completely impossible in such a text. Using contemporary theories—such as the Bundle Theory or some accounts of properties such as Perdurantism or Endurantism, or even sequentialist ontologies—as picklocks to deconstruct Plato’s strongbox and discover is true depiction of χώρα is both useful, as a means to avoid remaining imprisoned in its metaphors and allusions, and risky, because it obligates us to adopt one and only one possibility. As modest as what I am asserting sounds, I think we must accept that χώρα is both a malleable “matter” and a spatial receptacle. Fronterotta (2018) and Ademollo (2018) proposed, with some similarities but also differences, a very clever use of sequentialist ontologies to bring together a permanent substratum and entia successiva emerging in different temporal stages that fits well with the Timaeus.53 This, in my opinion, is fair only if a sequentialist ontology is introduced as a benchmark, without committing Plato to affirm the existence of a substratum (e.g., by what term does it appear in the text?), of temporal successions in  See Algra (1995, pp. 78–84).  If I understand correctly, both one of the positions attributed to Plato by McCabe (1994) and the general interpretation of the ontology of the Timaeus proposed by Zeyl anticipate this position. 52 53

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which “objects” emerge, and everything else that such an articulated ontology requires. This interpretation, however, has the huge merit of not attributing to Plato the full adherence to the Theory of Flow, which implies the renunciation of considering sensible things as “objects” at all.54

5 Conclusion Although Anaxagoras correctly explains that the characteristic F of F-things depends on building blocks that are properly F, his claim to justify this model entirely on the physical level, i.e., to understand participation as a μοῖραν μετέχει, whereby what is properly F is a physical part of the compound that manifests F, fails for Plato. Starting from a precise understanding of sensible things of Anaxagorean matrix and recognizing the impossibility of sensible things to be properly F, Plato introduces a higher order of reality populated by entities that, instead, can be properly F. These entities account for the co-presence of opposites in sensible things (“play the double game”) through participation in separate entities. In order to be properly F these entities cannot have the characteristics of Anaxagoras’ homeomeric entities, which are constitutively multiform, but must be μονοειδές-entities, characterised by the absence of mixture and by self-identity. The characteristics of μονοειδές-entities are derived by negation from those of sensible things. Both White (1981) and McCabe (1994), which are the only two extensive monographs on Platonic particulars or individuals, attribute to the philosopher a developmental theory of particulars, which culminates in the Timaeus and replaces the previous ones. Neither considers the ontology of Anaxagoras  For the analysis of the radical version of mobilism in the Theaetetus and the example of the dices, which goes in the direction of rejecting the thesis that everything is motion, see O’Brien (2008) and Trabattoni (2018, liv ff.). With the cautions expressed by Trabattoni (esp. lv, n. 116), O’Brien provides an excellent explanation of the passage, conveniently linking it to Phd. 102d and concluding that it is impossible to solve the problem without recourse to the Forms and to the so-called “Forms in us”. Without touching on this delicate point, it is sufficient for my purposes to note that the “Forms in us”, the objections to radical Heraclitism, and the geometrical elements of the Timaeus (i.e., structure, in Marmodoro’s lexicon (2022)) all perform a stabilising function with respect to the empirical realm, which for Plato is undoubtedly in perpetual motion and contradictory, but not without a minimum stability that makes it possible to guarantee a certain identity over time. McCabe (1994) has insisted on this point. 54

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as an important antecedent, as Mann (2000) and Marmodoro (2022) do, on the basis of the pioneering Denyer (1983), although with very different results. Marmodoro (2022) also attributes to late Plato the overcoming of the previous model, but she does it in a much more elegant way and without abrupt (and sometimes incomprehensible) ruptures, as White (1981) does. In this contribution I have argued for a “continuist” o “unitarian” interpretation,55 so to speak, of the Platonic conception of particulars. The main difference between the Phaedo and the Republic on the one hand, which are based on the differentiation of two ontological realms, and the Timaeus on the other, which introduces a third kind, lies precisely in the attempt to explain through the activity of the Demiurge the relationship between the two realms, which the Parmenides had problematised (and at the same time saved).56 This does not cut off the characterisation of the sensible things as contradictory and subject to continuous change, but the χώρα, which is instead stable and is a τόδε-­ entity, guarantees, even if on a strongly metaphorical level that is difficult to make fully intelligible with contemporary theories, that minimum percentage of stability which makes it possible to speak of sensible things, to recognise and name them. The reference to sequentialist ontologies promoted by some scholars seems more in keeping with Plato’s intentions than the Bundle Theory. The reconstruction I have proposed is fully consistent with the translation (T) of the vexed Timaeus passage discussed above, because it, so understood, does not make it impossible to speak of the sensibles by saying that they are “fire” or “air”, but by saying that they are such by approximation to what “fire” and “air” really are. This, moreover, makes the interpretation of the so-called Self-Predication Assumption adequate, not as an outcome of Plato’s philosophy (whether disastrous or not one wants to consider it), but as the starting point of any philosophical reflection.  I use the two terms as synonyms. The one between “unitarian” and “developmental” views of Plato’s philosophy is rightly considered by Dancy (2004, pp. 1–4) to be one of the “two of the biggest” divisions among Plato scholars (the other is between “literary” and “analytic” approaches to Plato’s texts). This does not mean that there are no changes, even significant ones, from one dialogue to the next. The difference between the two positions (as Dancy himself acknowledges) does not lie in this, but in the fact that clearly different phases can be distinguished—e.g. the transition from an explanation of participation by overlapping to one by mimesis. 56  I am again forced to refer to … (2017). 55

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Such a starting point is not the result of a top-down approach to these questions, but on the contrary of a bottom-up approach, which starts from a precise picture of the world we experience (and the epistemological presuppositions of experience itself ) and explains it by referring to entities that, in the Platonic picture, must exist not only for the world itself to subsist and have certain characteristics, but for us to be able to talk about it, as the Timaeus repeatedly says, “without being ashamed”.

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———. 2022. Forms and Structure in Plato’s Metaphysics. Oxford: Oxford University Press. McCabe, Mary M. 1994. Plato’s Individuals. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Miller, Dana R. 2003. The Third Kind in Plato’s Timaeus. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Nehamas, A. 1972–1973. Predication and Forms of Opposites in the Phaedo. Review of Metaphysics, 26, 461–491. Nehamas, Alexander. 1979. Self-Predication and Plato’s Theory of Forms. American Philosophical Quarterly 16 (2): 93–103. O’Brien, Denis. 2008. How Tall is Socrates? Relative Size in the Phaedo and the Theaetetus. In Proceedings of the Sixt Symposium Platonicum Pragense, 55–119. Praha: Oikoymene. Patterson, Richard. 1985. Image and Reality in Plato’s Metaphysics. Indianapolis: Hackett. Schwyzer, E. 1950. Griechische Grammatik. Zweiter Band: Syntax und Syntaktische Stilistik, vervollständigt und herausgegeben von A. Debrunner. Munich: Beck. Silverman, Allan. 1990. Self-Predication and Synonymy. Ancient Philosophy 10 (2): 193–202. Stalley, R.F. 1983. Review of White (1981). The Classical Review 33 (2): 222–224. Stokes, C.M. 1965. On Anaxagoras. Archiv für Geschichte der Philosophie 45: 101–118. Tannery, P. 1886. La Théorie de la Matière d’Anaxagore. Revue Philosophique de la France et de l’Étranger 22: 255–274. Teodorsson, Sven-Tage. 1982. Anaxagoras’ Theory of Matter. Göteborg: Acta Universitatis Gothoburgensis. Trabattoni, F. 2004. Trabattoni, F. 2004. Unità della virtù e Autopredicazione in Protagora 329e-332a. In Il Protagora di Platone: Struttura e Problematiche a cura di, ed. G. Casertano, 267–291. ———. 2018. Platone, Tetteto, a cura di F. Trabattoni. Torino: Einaudi. Vlastos, Gregory. 1950. The Physical Theory of Anaxagoras. Philosophical Review 59 (1): 31–57. ———. 1981. On a proposed Redefinition of “Self-predication” in Plato. Phronesis 26 (1): 76–79. White, F.C. 1981. Plato’s Theory of Particulars. New York: Arno Press. White, Nicholas. 1997. Review of McCabe (1994). Ancient Philosophy 17 (2): 525–529. Zeyl, Donald J. 2000. Plato: Timaeus. Indianapolis: Hackett.

8 Generation: A Programmatic Reading of Timaeus 47e3–58c4 Carolina Araújo

In Plato’s Timaeus, the title character claims that the world both is in constant generation and was generated (γιγνόμενα1 καὶ γεννητά), because, as something visible and tangible, it has a body (28b7–8). The first part of his account (27d5–47e) begins by making a distinction between two cosmogonic principles—what always is and what is always in generation (see 27d5–28a1)—and proceeds to explain how the world’s soul was crafted by the demiurge.2 Although it mentions that things are

 See also τὸ γιγνόμενον… ἀεί at 27d6–28a1. Since the world’s soul was also generated, it is because of its body that the world is also something in constant generation. For the two senses of γίγνεσθαι see Cornford (1935, p. 25); Hackforth (1959, p. 18). 2  On the distinction between the cosmogonic principles, see Giovanetti in this volume, p. 62 ff; on the production of the world’s soul, see Marongiu in this volume, p. 79 ff. 1

C. Araújo (*) Federal University of Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 V. Ilievski et al. (eds.), Plato on Time and the World, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-28198-3_8

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in generation due to certain inevitable3 cause (πᾶν δὲ αὖ τὸ γιγνόμενον ὑπ’ αἰτίου τινὸς ἐξ ἀνάγκης γίγνεσθαι, 28a4–5), this first part explains neither how the world is in constant generation, nor why generation is rigorously speaking a cosmogonic principle. It also says very little about the body of the world. This chapter proposes that the topic of the second part of Timaeus’s speech (47e3ff.) is a thorough explanation of generation as a principle.4 This is not an easy claim to make, since its argument is long, obscure, with plenty of ambiguous Greek and a complex structure. For an overview, I propose Timaeus’ plan to be the following: 1. Introducing the Problem 1.1. Inevitability (ἀνάγκη) (47e3–48b3) 1.2. Prime Bodies (48b3–c2) 1.3. The Methodological Disclaimer (48c2–e1)  Throughout this paper I translate ἀνάγκη by “inevitability” or “the inevitable”, “what has no alternative”, which is the most general and basic meaning of the term (see Rickert, 1989, p. 15–34; 60). I understand that the traditional translation of “necessity” is misleading, for this term entails a causal enchainment that is not in Timaeus’ concept (see, for instance, Taylor, 1928, p. 300 who affirms that ἀνάγκη is contingent). By supposing that ἀνάγκη entails causal sequences, Silverman (1992, p.  99), for instance, concludes that the pre-cosmic situation cannot be ruled solely by ἀνάγκη. In a different but complementary view, Johansen (2004, 94–95; 101–102) points out that ἀνάγκη does not contrast with intellect for being “necessary”, after all the rationality inserted in the world by the demiurge allows causal explanations based on necessity. I nonetheless disagree with their assumption that ἀνάγκη means causal necessity. It will be clear that the pre-cosmic process of generation is random and haphazard, so that it is not causal enchainment that ἀνάγκη imparts to the world when persuaded by the intellect. ἀνάγκη is a kind cause (αἰτία, 28a4) in the sense that it precedes the action and must be there so that the action may take place. However, it is not a component of the definition of an action (which are its agent and its end). This is why it is called an accessory cause (συναιτία, see 46a7). See more on ἀνάγκη in Ilievski in this volume, p. 184 ff. 4  The topic of the second part of Timaeus’s speech has been a matter of controversy: Archer-Hind (1888, p. 165) considers it “the various properties and forms of matter”, a concept that is most likely absent in the Timaeus. Taylor (1928, p. 297) sees it as a “positive science”, against which I shall argue that the second part has an even higher degree of verisimilitude than the first (48d1–3). Morrow (1950, p. 153) claims that the second part is about the “works of necessity”; although this is true, ἀνάγκη appears only occasionally in our passage. Lee (1966, p. 342) sees it as an account of phenomenal being, instead of the explanation of a cosmogonic principle, as I propose. Vlastos (2005 [1975], p. 66) takes the topic to be the mechanistically ordered motion, even though the pre-cosmic state is a part of it. Mohr (1980a, pp. 138–139) sees is as the nature of the physical world, which again leaves the pre-cosmic state out. Broadie (2011, pp. 184–185) is the one who points out that the topic is the principle of genesis; she however goes on arguing that the study of first principles is out of Timaeus’s remit. 3

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2. The General Account of Generation (48e2–52d1) 2.1. 2.2. 2.3. 2.4.

The Three Principles (48e2–49a6) Distinguishing Generation and Prime Bodies (49a6–49e7) Distinguishing Generation and the Third Kind (49e7–51b6) Generation Assuming Forms (51b6–52d1)

3. The Specific Account of Generation (52d2–55c6) 3.1. Generation Before the World (52d2–53b5) 3.2. Generation in the World (53b5–55c6) 3.2.1. Reciprocal Generation (53b5–54e3) 3.2.2. Composition and Dissolution of Bodies (54d3–57d6) 3.2.3. Motion in the World (57b7–58c4)5 This reconstruction aims not simply to recreate the argument but to reach some substantive conclusions about what generation is and how it works. I shall argue that (i) generation is a first principle on its own; (ii) powers that are peculiar to generation are primitives, in the sense that they are neither caused by another agent nor a property of something; (iii) generation in the absence of the world amounts to powers causing different properties in portions of the bearer; (iv) in giving depth to these portions, the demiurge crafts prime bodies, which did not exist before the world was generated; (v) bodies in the world are endowed with both the  The overview by itself is controversial. Lee (1966, p. 348) offers a version of my Sect. 2 in which prime bodies are simply a preliminary problem of the distinction between sensible objects and the receptacle. As a result, he cannot make a distinction between generation as a cosmogonic principle and sensible objects. Mohr (1980b, pp. 99–103) thinks that 3.2.3 is a generalization of 3.1, collapsing the two distinct kinds of generation into one. I comment on some of his conclusions below. Gill (1987, pp. 37–38) and Broadie (2011, pp. 185–193) take the whole of Sects. 1 and 2, plus 3.1 as describing the pre-cosmic order, based on the absence of reference to the demiurge. In my view, the fact that 1 and 2 are explaining generation in general justifies this absence, for the demiurge is peculiar to only one kind of generation. Miller (2003, p. 146) supposes that 52d4–53a7 cannot depict the pre-cosmic state, for it entails kinds with properties or powers and not simply traces. As I shall argue, powers and properties are peculiar to generation and the bearer as principles, therefore proper to the pre-cosmic state. 5

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properties received by the bearer and the power to generate these properties; (vi) generation is the cause of the corporeal motion of the world (as opposed to the motion of the world’s soul). ***

1 Introducing the Problem 1.1 Inevitability (ἀνάγκη) (47e3–48b3) After having explained the deeds of the intellect, Timaeus states that the second part of his cosmology must address “what is in generation due to inevitability” (τὰ δι’ ἀνάγκης γιγνόμενα, 47e4–5). Generated things did not come to be solely by the agency of the intellect. Indeed, they are actually that on which the intellect works in order to craft the world (48a2–3),6 and which are caused by generation as a first principle. These things are necessary for the world to come to be, but not in the same way that the demiurge and the end of his action are. They are the accessory principle (συναιτία, 46c7–d1), the things the demiurge uses so he can accomplish the best form of everything. As the demiurge has no alternative object with which to craft the world, they are inevitable. Approaching generation as inevitable is therefore a reversion (see ἀναχωρητέον at 48b1) to the beginning (28a4–5), explaining cosmology “from scratch” (ἀρκτέον ἀπ’ ἀρχῆς—48b3), as well as what it means to be in generation, before and after the cosmos (see 48b3–4).

 The intellectual principle acts on things in generation so as to guide most of them (τῶν γιγνομένων τὰ πλεῖστα) towards the best (48a3). I understand that τὰ πλεῖστα should be read intensively, rather than extensively, meaning that generation will be organized to the best without losing its proper nature. Compare to τὴν τοῦ ἀρίστου κατὰ τὸ δυνατὸν ἰδέαν ἀποτελῶν (46c7–d1). 6

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1.2 Prime Bodies (48b3–c2) I mentioned that the first part of Timaeus’ speech did not account for the body of the world, and for what a body is. The concept of body is nonetheless central to the problem of generation because, as Timaeus himself puts it, all his predecessors considered the prime bodies—fire, water, air and earth (see πρῶτα σώματα at 57c7)—to be the principles of generation of everything. These predecessors supposed prime bodies to cause actions such as cooling, heating, condensing, and dissipating (46d1–3). Moreover, they supposed prime bodies to be something like elements or letters (στοιχεῖα) of the world, out of which compounds or syllables (συλλαβῆς) came to be (48b3–c2).7 Their position is likely to be that (i) prime bodies are entities that cannot be analyzed; (ii) as elements, prime bodies would always have the same causal effect, in a kind of mechanical way; (iii) this effect is something like becoming cool, hot, condensed or rarefied. Timaeus disagrees: up to now, he claims, no one has disclosed how the generation of prime bodies happens (48b5–6). He does not intend to deny that there are some properties that are peculiar to these bodies, on account of which they cool, heat and so on, but he claims that the predecessors’ conception of prime bodies is incompatible with the notion of a world endowed with intrinsic rationality (46d4).8 Timaeus’s critique seems to be that, according to the predecessors, the bodies’ intrinsic effects, such as condensation and dissipation, occur only haphazardly and randomly (46e3–6, compare to 30a2–6). They are not able to explain the nature of these bodies, i.e., how they behave and in which circumstances they are generated, and those who are interested in science must seek the intelligent causes of phenomena (46d7–e1), giving them some justification (compare to 46d4).  In rejecting the predecessors’ view, Timaeus does not reject that prime bodies are compounds. However, the fact that they are in constant reciprocal generation (see below) turns the comparison with simple (stable) compounds inadequate. 8  δυνατὰ ἐστίν at 46d4 may refer to ὅσα τοιαῦτα or to αἰτία. I think that the first option does not fit Timaeus’ argument. He does not claim that such effects are incapable of following a rational order, a certain law of nature. His point is rather that the predecessors’ concept of prime bodies rendered them incomprehensible. 7

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1.3 The Methodological Disclaimer (48c2–e1) In giving an account of generation qua inevitable that would reject the predecessors’ view that bodies are the principles of generation, Timaeus feels the need to make a methodological disclaimer: The current style of his exposition (48c5–6), a speech based in verisimilitude, shall not fit the challenge. The only way of addressing inevitability is by taking the account to an even higher degree of verisimilitude (48d1–3),9 resulting in a strange and unwonted narrative (48d5–6), compared to a bastard account, hardly reliable (52b2). Later we find the reason for this extra difficulty: it is not easy to refer to prime bodies, i.e., to determine, for instance, whether that which we call water or fire is what these prime bodies actually are (49a7–b5); for example, whether fire as a prime body corresponds to what the flame of this candle in front of me is.

2 The General Account of Generation (48e2–52d1) Timaeus begins with a general account, common to both kinds of generation, before and after the world. It introduces the distinction among the three cosmogonic principles, opposes the predecessors’ explanations, argues for generation as a principle on its own, and defends the claim that an account that has both forms and generation as principles is preferable to those based only on bodies. Timaeus gives an epistemological argument for this latter preference.

2.1 The Three Principles (48e2–49a6) In order to account for generation due to inevitability Timaeus needs to divide the principles more extensively (48e2–3). Besides what always is,  I understand that the emendation proposed by Taylor (1928, p.  310) μᾶλλον δέ, καὶ ἔμπροσθεν would render the syntax clearer, but I disagree with him that making a speech more εἰκότα is to make it more accurate (a reading also found in Lee, 1966, p. 350): quite the opposite. 9

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which is the kind that provides the models and the end of the demiurgic production (compare to 46c7–d1), and what is always in generation and is visible, which is the kind that simulates the models (compare 27d5–28a1 to 48e4–49a1), he introduces another auxiliary cause10: the straying principle, which is the kind that bears along (φέρειν, 48a6–7).11 To bear along is a function also described as both receiving and nurturing all generation (πάσης εἶναι γενέσεως ὑποδοχὴν αὐτὴν οἷον τιθήνην, 49a5–6). The bearer, as I prefer to call this third kind of principle,12 is an auxiliary cause of the cosmogonic principle of generation, on which it can act so as to cause things always in generation.13

2.2 Distinguishing Generation and Prime Bodies (49a6–49e7) If these are the first three principles, the prime bodies are not one of them, as Timaeus’s predecessors supposed them to be. Justification for this position comes from observable facts. We observe, he declares, that this thing we call water, when condensed, turns into what we judge to be stone and earth, and this same thing, when dissolved and dissipated,  It has been assumed that the straying principle is equivalent to ἀνάγκη (see Cornford, 1935, p. 163), but I disagree, for this reading collapses the distinction between generation and the straying principle. The inevitable circumstance out of which the demiurge is to craft the world contains both generation and the straying principle (the third kind). 11  The verb φέρειν has been translated as “to set in motion” (Archer-Hind, 1888, p. 167); “to cause motion” (Cornford, 1935, p. 163), or yet “to set things adrift” (Zeyl 1977, p. 1250), but it has the meaning of “to carry along” or “to bear along”. Taylor (1928, p. 304), who rejects the motion of the third kind (see below), reads the sentence differently, meaning “as far as its nature admits [an explanation]”; φέρειν is nonetheless the verb used to describe the bearer’s basis function (see 52c3, 52a2). 12  I disagree with Miller (2003, p. 12) in that the third kind encompasses different things, for precisely “being something” is denied about the third kind. Having any peculiar mark would impair its performance of its natural activity. See more below and also in Ilievski in this volume, pp. 193 ff. 13  There is a tendency to suppose that, instead of three cosmogonic principles, there are three factors of different ontological degrees in Timaeus’ account: forms, the bearer and the generated things as their outcome (see for instance Zeyl, 2010, p. 124, Harte, 2010, p. 135). In claiming that generation is a principle on its own, I object to this tendency. I also object to the view that the third kind is the principle that causes things to be always in generation (see Archer-Hind, 1888, p. 172; Mohr, 1978, pp. 246–247; Zeyl, 2010, p. 119). I propose that generation is such a principle and that the third kind is the inevitable element on which generation acts so as the cause of things to be always in generation. 10

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turns into wind and air (49b7–c2). The same may be observed regarding everything that we call with the same name as the prime bodies (49c2–6), i.e., there is an apparent cycle of reciprocal generation (49c6–7). But if this is so, there is something out of order in the predecessors’ explanations: the effects the predecessors said were caused by the prime bodies— such as cooling, heating, condensing and dissipating—are actually the cause of the generation of these same bodies. If they are to be the cause, they cannot be the outcome of such effects (compare to 46d1–3). The predecessors are faced with a dilemma: they either (a) distinguish the prime bodies from observable bodies, saying for instance that the “prime water” does not cease to be such when condensed or dissipated, or (b) they must say that the prime bodies cause their own condensing and dissipating, and therefore their own becoming something else. In case of (a), they would have a second dilemma: they either (a’) say that prime bodies are invisible and provide an account for what a visible body is; or they (a”) say that the principles of generation are not what we are used to refer to by their names. In case of (b), they must admit two theses that jeopardize their premise: (b’) that there is nothing constant in the world, for all its elements are self-changers instead of bodies that cause generation and (b”) that the prime elements of reality are complex, for basic elements are not supposed to change themselves (see 57e1–6). The outcome of the argument is that, no matter what their option, they must suppose that visible bodies are in constant generation. Timaeus aims to get out of the dilemma by taking prime bodies not as first principles, but as an outcome of the three first principles. First he notes the difficulty about rigorously calling a specific visible body “water” any more than “fire” and so on (49b2–5). Next, he claims that no one could firmly say of whichever visible body that it is X instead of Y (49c7– d3).14 The reason is that visible bodies are apparitions (φανταζόμενα,  I take 49c7–d3 to mean that no one could firmly assert, for instance, that “this visible water is water, instead of fire”. I take ὁτιοῦν as a generalization mark that echoes ἑκάστων, for Timaeus is stating a problem regarding all the visible bodies severally taken. This is not redundant when it comes to ποῖον (as Cherniss, 1954, p. 114 claims) because ποῖον refers to the visible bodies, while ὁτιοῦν to the kind someone would attribute to them. Having qualified the apparitions with the deictic τούτων at 49c7, Timaeus goes on to explain that rigorously speaking they do not belong to the class of things qualified for this designation. For more on this passage, see Forcignanò in this volume, pp. 140 ff. 14

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49d1),15 and therefore their reciprocal generation is apparent (49c7). The visible water is an apparition because it changes, and what is stable about it is its bearer, which is not water (49d7, e3–4). Visible bodies defy rigorous language because statements are about something.16 Due to both their apparent nature and their constant generation, the visible bodies’ identity is problematic, and so are our statements regarding them. This eventual apparition is a certain “such as water” whose recurrent generation we can observe (49d4–7).17 Does it preclude me to call the liquid in my bottle water? No, as long as I am aware that this is a language employing verisimilitude to a higher degree, as opposed to both Timaeus’ εἰκώς λόγος and to a πίστος καὶ βεβαίος λόγος (compare 48d1–4 to 49b5). Calling an apparition a “such” as opposed to a “this” would be a safer way out of the problem (49d3–e2).  For “apparitions” as objective images, as opposed to “appearances” as their apprehension by the soul, see Crivelli (2012, pp. 24–25). For bodies as apparitions, see σώματα at 50b6. 16  The dilemma of the passage 47d4–7 consists in determining what is the first object(s)—the one that would receive the name—and what is the second object(s)—the name—of the verb “to call”. The matter involves deciding whether the appropriate and the inappropriate options are first or second objects. Variants are: A) the apparition is not to be called “this” but “the recurring such” (Cornford, 1935, p. 179; Gulley, 1960, p. 53; Zeyl, 1975, p. 129); and B) not the apparition but the recurring such is to be called “fire” (Cherniss, 1954, p. 114; Lee, 1967, p. 3, Silverman, 1992, p.  88ff; Brisson, 1998, p.  194, Fronterotta, 2003, p.  261). Although the text does not provide decisive evidence between the two, I find enough contextual evidence for defending A. The context makes it clear that the first object of “to call” is “visible fire” and “visible water”. This explains why “fire” is repeated: “what we see as always being generated in different moments and places as fire is not to be called ‘this’ but ‘the such’ that on each occasion is fire”. The main controversy evolves around what would then be legitimately called “fire”, “water”, “air” and “earth”. Lee (1967, p. 22) claims that our usual language is not apt for the phenomenal beings (see also Mohr, 1978, pp. 248–249). In my view, this is not the most fundamental issue: apparitions have the same name as originals (see ὁμώνυμον at 52a4–5) for the reason that it is the originals that give them their identity (see Taylor, 1928, p. 342). Zeyl (1975, p. 127–128; 143–144) is right in noticing that the point is not to claim that usual language shall not be employed, but to introduce the “safest” way of referring to things in generation when their nature is relevant. One must have in mind that sensible bodies are not what fire is, its form, but how fire appears; on the other hand, as we shall soon see, an apparition is only its bearer, which is nothing. The point Timaeus wants to stress is the difference in accuracy when we refer to apparitions as things with the same name (on this topic, see Gill, 1987, p. 43). 17  Cherniss’s proposal (1954, p. 121) that “suches” do not change but simply recur is misleading. Recurring entails ceasing to be and coming to be, this is enough for Timaeus to claim that suches have generation (49e5–7). This is sufficient to avoid the introduction of a fourth kind Cherniss proposes, the stable characteristics that would go in and out of the bearer, occurring in different parts of it and in different moments (1954, p. 130, see below). 15

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2.3 Distinguishing Generation and the Third Kind (49e7–51b6) If things in generation are apparitions and bodies are not first principles, we can now explain why the bearer of all generation is a first principle (49a5–6 see also 52b1), and why it must be distinguished from generation as a principle. The previous conclusion that apparitions rigorously speaking are not something leads to the problem concerning what, rigorously speaking, is this thing that I refer to when, for instance, talking about this particular flame of my candle? The differentiation of particulars that allows us to distinguish this flame from the other happens due to the bearer, more specifically due to a local differentiation in the bearer, according to the properties that appear in it (see ἕκαστα αὐτῶν φαντάζεται, 49e8). So, this flame is actually a portion of the bearer (49e7–50a2). The comparison with melted gold aims at clarifying what Timaeus means about what qualifies as “this” (50a4–c4): if someone were uninterruptedly modelling different shapes in melted gold, shapes that would not last, and, pointing out to them, would ask, “what is this?”, the safest answer would be to say: “this is gold”. In case a triangle was there at that exact moment, the safest answer would be that “this is gold such as a triangle” or “this is gold appearing as a triangle”.18 But this is just a part of Timaeus’s answer to the problem. He also states that, whilst the portion of the bearer is what a particular apparition is, this portion is not the properties it bears (50a2–5). The point, still to be clarified further ahead (50e1–51a3), is that the power of bearing all generation, which is natural to the bearer, must be different from the power of becoming something else. The alleged reason is that what becomes a property cannot be a good receiver of the opposite property (50b8–c2). But there is another often-missed point made by the gold analogy: The safest response about particular apparitions is not simply to

 This phrasing aims to avoid the idea that gold is a constituent of golden triangles; it is rather a medium where triangles occur, for it matters to the argument that the gold does not become a triangle (see Mohr, 1980b, p.  146; Gill, 1987, p.  46; Harte, 2010, p.  136). See also Zeyl (1975, p. 146) who thinks that the answer “gold” is not appropriate. 18

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say that “this” is a portion of the bearer, but to say it implying that “this” is nothing, a nothing that appears fiery in one of its portions.19 Timaeus says that the opposites introduced by generation in the bearer are simulations of what always is (τῶν ὄντων ἀεὶ μιμήματα—50c5), the forms. This leads Timaeus to another comparison: generation would be an offspring of forms, the father, and the bearer, the mother (50c2–e1).20 The comparison, however, would give us two instead of three first principles (compare to 50c7–d2), and turn generation into an outcome of this dualism. In order to clarify this point, it is important to consider (νοῆσαί τε ὡς οὐκ ἂν ἄλλως—50d4) that the imprints that are introduced in the bearer are multifarious, whilst forms are always the same and the bearer never has any form (50d4–e1). With that in mind, we shall come back to the point about why the bearer does not become the opposites. This argument is presented as a reductio: would the bearer be similar to any form X, whenever it came to receive the opposite form non-X, it would perform poorly the power it has by nature: to receive generation by becoming similar (ἀφομοιοῖ) to a form (50e1–4, 51a1–3). There is an apparent paradox in claiming that the bearer cannot be similar to any form and yet its nature is to become similar to a form.21 To dissolve the paradox one needs to understand that the bearer becoming similar to a form means for it to have one of its portions being affected (see πάθη, 48b5) and acquire a certain property. But affected portions of the bearer  If the bearer is nothing, the only rigorous answer to the question “what is an apparition?” would be naming the form that it resembles. Aristotle misses this inference when he says about Timaeus that “he actually says that by far the truest account is to affirm that each of them is gold” (Aristotle, De generatione et corruptione, 329a21–22). 20  My point is that, whilst things in generation (like prime bodies) are an outcome of the three cosmogonic principles, generation as a principle is not (in contradistinction for instance to Lee, 1966, p. 347; Silverman, 1992, p. 92; Miller, 2003, p. 15; Krása, 2021, p. 132). 21  It may appear controversial that a moved bearer does not assimilate the figures impressed upon it, remaining formless. Martin (1841, II, pp. 176–178) suggested there being two kind of bearers— the unchanged and the chaotic—but this would contradict the thesis that generation occurs in the bearer. Krása (2021, p. 138) proposes that the bearer is never modified in a way that would hinder other modifications, but it seems to me that whichever modification it suffers, this would be the acceptance of an opposite, in which case it cannot accept its counterpart. I suggest that the difficulty comes from supposing that the bearer is matter out of which the items in generation are made (see Aristotle, Physics, 209b11–12); however, it is not (see 51a5–6). 19

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are not the bearer anymore; they are already items in generation. The property in the portion would create resistance to the acquisition of opposite properties. The analogy with the perfume base makes this point clear: the base must be neutral in order to acquire scent; but it also must receive scent in order to be a base. When it receives this scent, it ceases to be a base and becomes scented, therefore offering resistance to opposite scents. If this is so, affected portions of the bearer are items in generation, multifarious as the bearer by definition cannot be. On the one hand, the conclusion of this argument is that the bearer is not an item in generation, but its affected portions are. These affections are introduced in the bearer by powers, which, in their turn, are the proper cause of the differences between the portions of the bearer. These powers are evidence of generation acting as a cause of things in generation. As a result, generation and the third kind must be two distinct principles: one is the power that introduces (see εἰσιόντων at 50c1, compare to 50d4–5) opposites in the bearer22; the other is the power of bearing opposites without becoming them (50b7–c2).

2.4 Generation Assuming Forms (51b6–52d1) Having proved that things in generation are the outcome of the bearer and the power to affect the bearer, i.e., of two distinct principles, Timaeus finds himself obliged to give an argument about the role of forms in generation. It takes the form of a “vote” for an account that would include forms (51d3, 52d2–3), as opposed to the account that supposes that our only access to truth is what we perceive by the body (51c2–4). He is not willing to address the issue through a long speech, rather by means of a single brief and relevant distinction (51d1–2) between intellect and true  Interpreters disagree about what is this that enters the bearer. Some think it must be an item distinct from the forms, the bearer, and the generated things, something like a sensible form (Proclus, On Timaeus, III. 357.10–13), or a stable characteristic (Cherniss, 1954, p. 130 and Lee, 1966, p. 358; 1967, p. 11). Others think that these are the things in generation themselves (see Archer-Hind, 1888, p.  45; Taylor, 1928, p.  324, Gulley, 1960, p.  63; Zeyl, 1975, p.  135; Miller, 2003 p. 99). 22

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belief (see 27d5–28a4). If this distinction can be granted, then the distinction of their objects—perceptible and intelligible items—must be granted (51d5–e2). The antecedent clause is proved by the difference between learning—which always occurs with a true account and is rare among human beings—and persuasion, which happens without such an account and in which all human beings partake (51e2–6). This is actually a justification for Timaeus’s very first premise, established at the beginning of his speech (see 28a1–4). Learning must take us out of our ordinary persuasion about the world; it must make us understand what prime bodies are, instead of simply supposing that they are these phenomena we perceive. Therefore, there must be forms of these apparitions, which are what the latter appear as.23 Forms are “cognitively reliable” entities that do not receive anything—being therefore distinct from the bearer—and do not go in and out of anything—being therefore distinct from generation (51e6–52a4). Even if things in generation owe their names and essence to the forms, generation must still be a principle on its own, accounting for what affects the bearer. Again the conclusion is that we must have three principles.24 The general account for things in generation ends with three conclusions: (i) the third kind is a principle on its own; (ii) generation is constant and a principle on its own; (iii) an account of generation that includes forms as models of things in generation is preferable to one that excludes.

 The relevant form in crafting the world is the form of the living being (τὰ νοητὰ ζῷα, 30c7–d1), which has parts according to kinds (κατὰ γένη μόρια, 30c6). These kinds, in their turn, are determined by the four prime bodies (see 39e2–40b2). 24  If forms are the object of intellect and perceptible items the object of belief, we lack a kind of cognition with which to apprehend the third kind. This cognition Timaeus describes as a bastard account—a phrase that brings back the notion of a strange and unwonted narrative (48d5–6)— which is not based on what we perceive and is hardly reliable. Here we see again the difference between affected portions of the bearer—which are visible (51a4)—and the bearer itself, which is only indirectly grasped. The proof for the existence of the third kind comes from the evidence that apparitions in constant generation must happen in one bearer that is not in constant generation (52c2–5). 23

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3 The Specific Account of Generation (52d2–55c6) As already mentioned, the first part of Timaeus’s account did not explain how things in generation are always in generation. In other words, it did not explain why generation is a principle of the world, instead of an outcome of the interaction between forms and the bearer. This being the aim of the second part of his speech. If this is so, there is a difference between what the world is and what things always in generation are: the world is a particular kind of the things in generation, i.e., the one that was also generated. Consequently, worldly generation is not what generation always is, or always has been. In sum, to understand that the world is something always in generation we have to understand what generation as a cosmogonic principle is, as well as the two kinds of generation, the one that happens within the world, and the one that happens prior to the world (48b3–5).

3.1 Generation Before the World (52d2–53b5) In the beginning of his account of the generation of the world, Timaeus refers to the pre-existence of visible things, which were never at rest, but always moved erratically and disorderly (30a3–5).25 What exactly these things are remained obscure throughout Timaeus’s whole first part. Although they are referred to with the names of the prime bodies, we learn that they have peculiar powers (δυνάμεις, 32c8, 33a4, compare to 32c5–33a6), such as heating and cooling, and that the whole of their portions was used in the production of the world (32c7–8).

 There has been a long scholarly debate on what is there in the Timaeus that is not the world, which has been called “chaos” (see Lee, 1966, p. 350; Miller, 2003, p. 146), “flux” or even “generation” (Vlastos, 1939, p. 76). It must be clear by now that the latter option is misleading, for generation occurs also in the world. Vlastos refers to 52d3, which is clearly a reference to 49a5–6 and 52b1 (see above). Flux is ambiguous: Mohr (1980a, p. 142; 1980b, p. 97) and Zeyl (1975, p. 127), for instance, use “flux” in reference to phenomena in general, whilst Gill (1987, p. 39) restricts the term to the pre-cosmic state. 25

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In the second part of his speech, Timaeus explains the visibility and the motion of things in generation as follows: The bearer receives the affections caused by dissimilar powers that make it watery, fiery, earthy and airy (52d4–e1). As we already know, being affected by these powers does not turn the bearer into water, fire, earth and air; what we have is portions of the bearer acquiring certain properties. Different powers affect different portions causing it to be differentiated, in particular, visibly differentiated according to their extension. This is why, without becoming anything, the bearer sustains the apparition of different visible marks, shapes (see μορφάς at 52d6 and παντοδαπὴν μὲν ἰδεῖν φαίνεσθαι at 52e1). These affected portions differ among themselves not only according to their shape, but also according to a certain density that pressures the bearer, which, like a malleable surface, moves due to them (52e1–5).26 One may assume that there is a variety of powers affecting the bearer in different moments; this is why it sways irregularly. It seems to me fair to suppose that these affections are caused by the same kind of power as those mentioned by Timaeus’s predecessors, such as cooling, heating, condensing and dissipating. If this is correct, items in generation are visible due to the difference of shapes of the affected portions and are moved due to their difference in density. If we are to assume that it is the demiurge who introduces intelligibility in generation by crafting the world (47e3–4), we are to suppose that the shapes of these portions in their pre-cosmic state are caused solely by the action of these powers.27 It is conceivable that these powers cause, for instance, condensation or dissipation of portions of the bearer, which are therefore extended or reduced as an affected area. These items would therefore be certain “fields” or “territories” (χώραν ταῦτα ἄλλα ἄλλην, 26  For this reason, it is misleading to call the bearer the “space” in which bodies come in and out (as for instance Taylor, 1928, p. 312; Cornford, 1935, pp. 193ff.; Johansen, 2004, p. 122, pp. 130–132). The function of the third kind is to bear along—to support and to nurture—items in generation (50b6–c2). This is also important in order to stress the imprecision of the comparison sometimes made between the third kind and a mirror (see Cornford, 1935, p. 184; Lee, 1966, pp. 364ff.; Mohr, 1980a, pp. 145–146). Those who think that the affections in the bearer are simply images, without density, deny that the bearer literally moves (Mohr, 1980b, p. 100). For a critique of this interpretation, see Zeyl (1975, p. 135) and Kung (1988, pp. 171–172). 27  See Jelinek (2011, p. 298).

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53a5) whose limits are determined by a certain density; they are dense, heavy, rare or light. If this is acceptable, then the visibility of affections in the bearer is reduced to this distinction between affected territories. If we also accept the predecessors’ thesis that cooling, heating, condensation and dissipation are capable of changing the attributes of something, powers alone would explain why the bearer is fiery, watery, earthy and airy. Although these lines are conjectural to a certain degree, they could well explain some of Timaeus’s claims about generation before the world. For instance, if powers affect the bearer randomly—in different places at different moments—there is no order according to which we could have some expectations about where the quakes will happen in the bearer and when their motion begins. This would explain why these affections occur haphazardly and randomly (46e3–6) and the visible things prior to the existence of the world would move erratically and disorderly (30a3–5).28 Moreover, if powers affect the bearer continuously, heterogeneously and disproportionally, this would suffice for the bearer never to reach balance or rest (52d4–e5). This last point matters because the bearer’s motion by itself is not random.29 It reacts according to the affection it receives, in some proportional mechanical response to the different degrees of impact it suffers. Therefore, it has one single pattern: the quakes cause the gathering of strongly impacted (dense) portions on the one side, and slightly impacted (rare) portions on the other side, functioning as a winnowing sieve (52e5–53a2). Their displacement is therefore continuous and proportional, establishing the natural like-to-like tendency, i.e., portions of the same density move towards the same local (53a2–8). It seems fair to say that, whilst powers cause generation by field differentiation—of density  If the random occurrence of powers is what marks generation prior to the world, generation cannot be defined teleologically, as a process towards becoming F (see Miller, 2003, p. 58). Instead, we must understand it as a constant motion that randomly becomes and ceases to be F (compare to Miller’s suggestion of a non-teleological coming to be at p. 161). 29  For the quakes of the bearer causing order, see 88d4–e3. Although I agree with Mohr (1980b, pp. 99–103) that the motion of the bearer is the separation of phenomena according to kinds, I cannot accept his conflation of the passages 57c and 88d–e, which in my view refer to two different kinds of generation. In the absence of this differentiation, Mohr ascribes to chaos traits that are peculiar to the world (for this critique see Miller, 2003, p. 58), pp. 148–149). 28

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and therefore of shape—, the bearer causes the bringing together of these portions according to kinds (53b1–5, see 31b4–33b1, 42e8–43a).30 In its standard motion, the bearer, as we see, provides a spatial organization: each affected portion becomes coextensive to others of similar kind. This is a countermovement to the disorderly generation of affections by powers. Because these areas have different density, it is plausible that its outcome is a vertical differentiation of places with lower areas for higher density and higher areas for lower density. This placement, however, is not cosmic order yet. The reason seems to be that the items in generation themselves still lack proportion and measure; the portions of the bearer that are not yet placed continue to be randomly affected and put into movement. This is why Timaeus does not talk about prime bodies in pre-cosmic state but rather about their “traces” (53b1–2). Traces are, I submit, similarities that are not caused by the original; they do not emerge by design.31 If the density, shape and attribute of an affected portion is similar to a form, this was not due to any intellectual agency that built this similarity into the affected portion. The similarity we may find with the form is random and haphazard because its cause was simply the powers (compare to 69b2–c7). We can conclude that, before the world, generation is the constant process of power generating affections in the bearer. Moreover, if everything that is generated needs a cause (28a4–6), we may say then that powers are the cause of these affections32 and the agents peculiar to the cosmogonic principle of generation.  Because different powers are constantly and randomly acting on the bearer, generation has in itself no tendency to cease, as supposed by Taylor (1928, pp. 351–352), neither is the outcome of the bearer’s motion a stable location of prime bodies in the same place, as supposed by Miller (2003, p. 58), p. 14). Pre-cosmic motion is caused by two factors: the heterogeneity and haphazard of powers and the like-to-like tendency of the standard motion of the bearer (see also Jelinek, 2011, p. 299). 31  Some interpreters thought that, since ἰχνῆ means “marks left by something”, they could not antedate the bodies (see Vlastos, 1939, p. 77; Vázquez, 2022, pp. 126–127). Since this is an explanatory context, I do not see why the term ἰχνῆ could not have a metaphorical meaning referring to the bodies they would become. For this “heuristic” meaning, see Harte (2010, p. 133). 32  For this reason, a translation of δυνάμεις as “properties” or “potentialities” is inadequate in this context; it would turn powers and affections into the same thing. Powers have a causal role in generating affections in the bearer; they cause alteration (see Morrow, 1950, p. 152; Robinson, 1970, p. 94; Jelinek, 2011, p. 303; Vázquez, 2022, p. 127). My view is that, when bodies come to exist, they are bearers of both properties and powers. But this is not the case in the pre-cosmic state, which distinctly marks out the difference between the bearer and the powers. 30

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3.2 Generation in the World (53b5–55c6) 3.2.1 Reciprocal Generation (53b5–54e3) Generation in the world happens by the intervention of the demiurge. The body of the world was built after the portions of fire, earth, air and water (31b6–c4, 48b3–5) But, before the world, these were traces of what they are now, fields of properties in the bearer. By introducing form and number in these areas, the demiurge turns them into bodies (53c4–7), i.e., what he does is to add depth to them, which gives them a new feature: solidity and therefore tangibility (53c4–8, see οὐδὲ ἁπτὸν ἄνευ τινὸς στερεοῦ, 31b5–6). This reinforces the thesis that before the world there were no bodies, simply powers with correspondent affected extensions in the bearer. The latter were visible due to their difference in density, yet, if not tangible, they could not touch each other and actually interact.33 Depth is built not by adding matter, but by adding solid shapes after forms and numbers, introducing measure and proportion into things in generation, so that they can be commensurable to each other as well as individually analysed. This conception of an analyzable body that is commensurable to other bodies is, of course, important to mark the distinction between Timaeus’s approach and the one of his predecessors, who considered bodies to be elements. Rejecting the predecessors’ position, Timaeus’s account of generation in the world is committed to explain the observable reciprocal generation of prime bodies. Forms and numbers offer a unit into which bodies may be dissolved, after which they can be composed and according to which they become commensurable. Timaeus is not willing to commit himself to any conception of what this prime bodies’ basic particle may be, and simply provides a likely account regarding a form that would make  The indication that items in generation in the pre-cosmic state were visible but not tangible may suggest the presence of fire, required for visibility, and the absence of earth, required for tangibility (see 31b4–8). However, I think we are safe to assume the absence of both, on the basis that only after the interference of the demiurge does the world become truly visible and tangible (see 32c7–8). Visibility in the pre-cosmic world amounts, in my view, to the distinction between the affected portions in the bearer (see also Van Riel, 2021, p. 173). For the importance of depth in the world, see Silverman (1992, p. 108). 33

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bodies commensurable to each other: triangles.34 Triangles are units of surface extension (affected portions of the bearer) into which the solids would be dissolved. They are properly elements (54d6), and have two basic kinds—the isosceles right-angled triangle, and the scalene right-­ angled triangle, whose smaller side is half of the hypotenuse (53c8–d4, see also 54a1–7, b4–5)—out of which all the others are composed. Now, instead of condensation and rarefaction of fields, we have items being generated by composition and dissolution of these triangular fields of properties. Technically then, if bodies have the power of becoming each other, this shall be more rigorously understood as the power these triangles have to associate with each other, composing bodies, or to dissolve such associations (54c6–d3). Let us see how these events happen.

3.2.2 Composition and Dissolution of Bodies (54d3–57d6) The explanation of how bodies are made out of triangles offers the natural laws for the prime bodies’ generation, even if the unwonted narrative approach continues.35 In arguing for this thesis, I intend to show that these laws reflect the intelligibility impressed by the demiurge on the inevitable, which yet preserve the latter’s basic features. To put it in more specific terms, my point is that the nature of a prime body is determined not only by its stereometric shape—its principle of intelligibility—but also by different properties impressed on the triangular portions of the bearer by the powers of generation. If I am right, we should not assume that there is nothing else to fire besides the tetrahedral form.36 A consequence of this claim is that the elementary triangles are not simply geometrical figures; they are shapes of fields of properties, properties endowed with powers.  Whilst in the gold analogy, triangles would emerge and vanish in the bearer, in the world they are built into it for good (53c4–d4). 35  For Timaeus’ formulation of natural laws, see Taylor (1928, p. 383); for the point that they are not verifiable laws, see Vlastos (2005 [1975], pp. 91–93). 36  See for instance Taylor (1928, p. 373) and Vlastos (2005 [1975], p. 70). For a similar critique to their view, see Silverman (1992, p. 109) and Buckels (2018, p. 20). I agree with Van Riel (2021, p. 182) that the polyhedra are mathematical structures of bodies, but I disagree with him that Plato takes the existence of bodies for granted. 34

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My first argument is supported by the necessity of having different kinds of triangles in order to explain a verifiable fact that is not formal in principle: not all the bodies have the power for reciprocal generation (see αὐτῶν ἄττα at 53e2 and 55b6–8). Earth does not have the power to become anything other than earth; therefore, the elements that form it must be incommensurable with the other elements (54b2–5). This, of course, does not mean that earth is not composed and dissolved (see Aristotle, Physics, 306a17), quite the opposite. It means simply that its elements are not compatible with the elements of the other prime bodies. The priority in this explanation matters. Timaeus argues that the form of the cube was inserted in earth because it is the most immobile and the most pliable body (55e1–2). Earth properties precede the shape, as affections of powers preceded the bodies. This is a “brute fact” given by inevitability and organized by the demiurge accordingly. Along the same lines, fire has the most mobile form with the sharpest edges, the tetrahedron, because it is the lightest and cuts in every direction (56a3–b2). Again, the solid follows a previous property. Moreover, the solids—the tetrahedron (54d5–55a4); the octahedron (55a4–8), the icosahedron (55a8–b3), the cube (55b3–c4) and a fifth solid, the dodecahedron (55c4–6), which the demiurge used to decorate the world as a whole37—are not simply built out of elementary triangles. They follow different kinds of compositional rules. First, there are rules for composition in the same plane, which demand different shapes such as the equilateral triangle (54e2–3, 55a5, b1–2) and the square (55b7). Next, rules for angles in which each of these shapes must connect to the others (54e3–55a1, 55b6, 55b1). Then, different sizes of triangles result  The dodecahedron is similar to the sphere, which is the shape of the whole world (see Plato, Phaedo 110b5–c1). Archer-Hind (1888, p. 197, 199) defends the view that the dodecahedron is used to decorate the sky with the twelve constellations of the zodiacal signs, being therefore the body proper to the stars. After introducing the dodecahedron as the solid of a fifth prime body, Timaeus apparently feels compelled to discuss the infinite or finite number of worlds (55c7–8). There is a simple explanation to such a need. If solids are recurrently being composed and dissolved after triangles, it is natural to assume that there would be an infinite number of dodecahedrons that would also be dissolved (55c8–d2). As a matter of fact, as something in generation, it was expected the world to be dissolved and recomposed, so this is a fair objection (see 55d3–4). On the other hand, the first part of Timaeus’ speech argued that the world was one because it was crafted by a good demiurge, and that the outcome of such a work should be everlasting (55d4–6, compare to 31a8–b3). 37

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in infinite varieties of the basic kinds of prime bodies (57c7–9, d1–5, see also 58c5ff). It is clear that the composition of the bodies introduces other factors besides the connection of triangles, and that these factors correspond to properties peculiar to these bodies. The processes of dissolution and recomposition of bodies also have rules. The first of them is that they depend on collision (συντυγχάνουσα, 56d1, see also d4), which, of course, supposes that both bodies and independent triangles are in motion (see below). But then this outcome is not straightforward. Collision does not cause bodies of the same kind to dissolve (56e7–57a5), only bodies of different kinds.38 Some bodies are superior to others in their resistance, and when bodies of different kinds collide, the dissolution of the inferior does not stop until it ceases to exist (57a5–6). It must be noticed, nonetheless, that this superiority in kind of a body may be compensated by a numerical superiority of bodies surrounding it (57a7–b7), so that large bulks of bodies make them more resistant to decomposition. This kind of resistance must also be explained by some property that cannot be reduced to the structure of the solid. Dissolution and recomposition must also follow a rule about numerical proportion: one body of water, when dissolved, can generate one body of fire and two of air (56d6–e1; see also 56e1–2); from two and a half bodies of air one can obtain one body of water (56a6–7).39 This led some interpreters to think that triangles were property neutral, for they could mix and match into different bodies. The text, however, does not support this reading. According to Timaeus: Moreover, regarding the proportions of their quantity, their motions and the other powers all over (τὰς ἄλλας δυνάμεις πανταχῇ), the god, as far as the nature of inevitability would willingly concede to yield (ὅπῃπερ ἡ τῆς ἀνάγκης ἑκοῦσα πεισθεῖσά τε φύσις ὑπεῖκεν), having brought all of them rigorously to completion, harmonized them all according to reason (56c3–7).  Bruins (1951, pp.  275–276) adds the possibility of the solids decomposing themselves spontaneously. 39  As Bruins (1951, p.  276) has noted, the proportion in these dissolutions and recompositions refers to the surfaces, not the volume of the solids (see also Vlastos, 2005 [1975], pp.  89–90; Brisson, 1998, p. 389). 38

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The shape and numbers involved in the structure of each solid harmonize the motions of the bearer and the powers that were randomly acting over the bearer. If this is right, in building bodies out of triangle-shaped affected portions of the bearer, the demiurge transfers these motions and powers to the bodies as their intrinsic features. Bodies are therefore an organization of powers plus extensions of the bearer in the shape of a solid.40 They are created as having powers themselves, and as themselves reacting to external powers, which endows them with the like-to-like tendency.41 Bodies become themselves powers and bearers, but under an intelligible pattern of behaviour. Intelligence persuades inevitability by making it intelligible42—making it fall under some kind of law—yet, it does so by preserving the peculiar behaviour of the inevitable (what its nature willingly concedes to yield), in this case, the powers peculiar to generation and the reactive motion proper to the bearer. Timaeus concludes the argument on the composition of bodies by addressing the objection he had made to the predecessors about the difference between the prime bodies and what we call water, fire, earth and air (56b7–c7, compare to 49a7–b5). According to his account, this visible thing we call water is a bulk of icosahedrons made out of one hundred and twenty watery portions of the bearer with the shape of a scalene right-angled triangle that were organized in twelve angles. A prime body is invisible to us due to its minimal size (56b7–c2), and not due to its nature, because its nature is to be visible. The bodies we see are simply a cluster of many of prime bodies (57c2–3); so, there is nothing intrinsically wrong in calling the liquid in this glass water, although it is still an apparition of the form water.

 Bodies are not simply bundles of particulars (see for instance Taylor, 1928, p. 76; Lee, 1966, p. 119; Lee, 1967, p. 27) or bundles of properties (see Buckels, 2018, p. 20); they are organized according to rules of composition in a single form, this is what it means for them to be a simulation of a form (for a similar point, see Karamanolis, 2021, p. 160). 41  For the evidence that bodies are powers organized as triangles, see 89c1–3, see also Cornford (1935, p. 205) and Krása (2021, p. 142). 42  See Morrow (1950, p. 156) for the idea that intelligence works on powers inherent to the materials of which the world consists. 40

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3.2.3 Motion in the World (57b7–58c4) The previous section argued that composition and dissolution of bodies depend on collision, and collision happens while all these items are displaced (57b7–c2). This displacement, as we saw, occurred due to quakes of the bearer, which, in their turn, occurred due to the different powers causing different properties in different portions of it (57c3–4). Once powers and extended portions of the bearer were incorporated into prime bodies, displacement and generation become interaction between bodies. Let me explain. When the demiurge turned all the affected portions of the bearer into prime bodies (32c5–8), he exhausted all its area. The world is completely full of bodies and there is no unaffected bearer allowing for a random occurrence of powers. The crucial factor distinguishing motion before and in the world is that the world itself receives a solid structure: circular shape and a circumference (περίοδος, 58a5).43 And as a solid, the world allows no internal void; it is compact (58a4–7).44 Smaller bodies, like fire, are always in the interstices of greater bodies, such as water (58a7–b4). And in the even smaller interstices we may still find the portions of the bearer structured as triangles. There is no part of the world that is not affected by some power, having its peculiar properties. The absence of void causes displacement in the world to be something completely different from what it was before it.45 It not simply entails collision, but constant collision. Instead of finding their way towards their like, following their intrinsic like-to-like tendency, bodies are decomposed and recomposed due to collisions. When bodies change identity—they no longer resemble the form they did, but another  This does not imply the existence of a circular motion or centripetal force pressing the bodies within the world, as assumed by Archer-Hind (1888, pp. 207–208). In my view, when the demiurge gives a shape to the world as a whole, he puts all the elements in place, and their internal motion generates collision (see Taylor, 1928, pp. 397–398). 44  The absence of void in the world is controversial, for Timaeus mentions empty spaces between the bodies (58b3, b5, 60e5, b1, b4), and it seems geometrically clear that his solids would never fit each other without gaps (see Taylor, 1928, p. 399). However, triangles of different sizes moving freely can occupy theses gaps. 45  Brisson (1998, p. 397) takes the absence of void as the condition sine qua non of motion, but this seems to imply that motion is interaction between bodies, which is a controversial premise. 43

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one—the direction of their intrinsic movement changes, so they tend towards another direction and again collide with other bodies (58b8). So, whilst the like-to-like tendency remains in the world, being the proper cause of bodily motion, it results in no spatial organization (58a4–7). Dissolution and recomposition make bodily motion to be much more complex, but, on the other hand, they preserve generation as a first principle within the world: in the inevitable motion of the bodies (58c1–4). Bodily motion is caused by dissimilarity; there is no motion in uniformity (57e2–3). It is difficult, or even impossible, to explain motion without distinguishing a mover and something moved (57e3–5), and it is impossible for both to be identified as the same thing (57e6). Unavoidable dissimilarity, on the other hand, is the topic of the whole explanation Timaeus is about to conclude (58a2): it is explained by the heterogeneity of powers that affect the bearer causing the distinction of its portions. Although the demiurge ascribes forms to these distinct properties, allowing us to relate powers to forms, forms are not the cause of the dissimilarity that explains this motion, neither is the world’s soul, for this matter.46 ***

4 Conclusion The contrast between generation before and in the world shows us what is proper to generation as a kind and as a principle. It is constantly emphasized that what is lacking in the absence of the world is order. Although this is correct, order is vague: there is order in like-to-like tendency.47  Interpreters (see for instance Cornford, 1935, p. 205, after Plutarch, De animae procreatione in Timaeo) who held firmly that for Plato every motion was caused by the soul, insisted that corporeal motion is the motion of the irrational world soul. Timaeus mentions no such thing (see Vlastos, 1939, p.  78). Instead, we find a description of movement peculiar to bodies in the world (see 31b6–c4, 48b3–5), which are, of course, also guided by the motion of the world soul. In this sense the motion is not irrational, but rather non-rational (Brisson, 1998, p. 398), and therefore perfectly capable of being intelligible. 47  For the claim that the main difference between the pre-cosmic state and the world is order, see Johansen (2004, p.  124) For the reminder that like-to-like tendency is an order, see Vlastos (1939, p. 76). 46

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What the pre-cosmic state lacks are bodies, their interaction, dissolution and composition. Bodies have measure and proportion that makes them analysable and commensurable with each other. Bodies become each other by their dissolution into particles (triangles) and their recomposition. When the world is generated and receives its proper shape, it eliminates void and compacts the bodies. Timaeus suggested that analysing how generation happens before the world would clarify what generation is. This analysis confirmed that items in generation are visible and moved. Although being visible and moved can only be explained by introducing the bearer as a cause—which is differently affected and moves the items in generation—the cause of this visibility and this motion lies not in the bearer, but in the presence of dissimilar powers. They are the cause of the differences—in extension, shape, weight and density—that allow apparitions to be described as traces of prime bodies. They also explain disorder, for the occurrence of the affections is haphazard and random due simply to the activity of powers. Things in constant generation can only be identified by their similarity to the forms. Whilst in pre-cosmic state these similarities were haphazard, in the world they happen according to natural laws, in which powers, affections and shapes are ordered into elements that are combined into the basic bodies. Nonetheless, generation in the world still displays the basic feature that makes generation a cosmogonic principle: powers and its affections. Dissimilar powers are primitive, basic, and they establish the peculiar nature of bodies in the world. We can see therefore that the world was built out of the inevitable. Finally, Timaeus’s account of generation, both before and in the world, is very different from his predecessors’. According to Timaeus, items in generation were apparitions, instead of elements. These apparitions are caused by the interaction of powers and the bearer before the world. Within the world, they take the shape of triangles, which organize the extended portions of the bearer and the power affecting them, and allow for compositions that result in the peculiar nature of each prime body. Their triangle-shaped surfaces retain the like-to-like tendency and their special configuration explain the power each has in their interaction. Timaeus can, whilst his predecessors could not, explain reciprocal generation and the natural motion of prime bodies.

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References Archer-Hind, Richard D. 1888. The Timaeus of Plato. London: Macmillan and co. Brisson, Luc. 1998. Le Même et l’autre Dans La Structure Ontologique Du Timée de Platon: Un Commentaire Systématique Du Timée de Platon. Sankt Augustin: Academia Verlag. Broadie, Sarah. 2011. Nature and Divinity in Plato’s Timaeus. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bruins, Evert M. 1951. La chimie du Timée. Revue de Métaphysique et de Morale. 56 (3): 269–282. Buckels, Christopher. 2018. Triangles, Tropes and ta toiauta: A Platonic Trope Theory. Plato Journal 18: 9–24. Cherniss, Harold F. 1954. A Much-Misread Passage of the Timaeus (Timaeus 49c7–50b5). The American Journal of Philology 75 (2): 113–130. Cornford, Francis M. 1935. Plato’s Cosmology: The Timaeus of Plato. London: Routledge. Crivelli, Paolo. 2012. Plato’s account of falsehood: a study of the Sophist. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Fronterotta, Francesco. 2003. Platone Timeo. Milano: Bur. Gill, Mary-Louise. 1987. Matter and Flux in Plato’s Timaeus. Phronesis 32 (1): 34–53. Gulley, Norman. 1960. The interpretation of Plato, Timaeus 49d-e. The American Journal of Philology 81 (1): 53–64. Hackforth, Reginald. 1959. Plato’s Cosmogony (Timaeus 27 d ff.). The Classical Quarterly 9 (1): 17–22. Harte, Verity. 2010. The Receptacle and the Primary Bodies: Something from Nothing? In One Book, The Whole Universe, ed. Richard D. Mohr and Barbara M. Sattler, 131–140. Las Vegas: Parmenides Publishing. Jelinek, Elizabeth. 2011. Pre-Cosmic Necessity in Plato’s Timaeus. Apeiron 44 (3): 287–305. Johansen, Thomas. 2004. Plato’s Natural Philosophy: A Study of the Timaeus-­ Critas. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Karamanolis, George. 2021. Does Plato Advance a Bundle Theory in the Timaeus? In Plato’s Timaeus: Proceedings of the Tenth Symposium Platonicum Pragense, ed. Chad Jorgenson, Filip Karfik, and Stepan Spinka, 149–168. Leiden: Brill. Krása, Ondrej. 2021. Bodies and Space in the Timaeus. In Plato’s Timaeus: Proceedings of the Tenth Symposium Platonicum Pragense, ed. Chad Jorgenson, Filip Karfik, and Stepan Spinka, 131–148. Leiden: Brill.

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Kung, Joan. 1988. Why the Receptacle is not a Mirror. Archiv für Geschichte der Philosophie 70 (2): 167–178. Lee, Edward N. 1966. On the Metaphysics of the Image in Plato’s Timaeus. The Monist 50 (3): 341–368. ———. 1967. On Plato’s Timaeus, 49d4–e7. The American Journal of Philology 88 (1): 1–28. Martin, Henri. 1841. Études sur le Timée de Platon. Paris: Vrin. Miller, Dana R. 2003. The Third Kind in Plato’s Timaeus. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Mohr, Richard D. 1978. The Gold Analogy in Plato’s ‘Timaeus’ (50a4–b5). Phronesis 23 (3): 243–252. ———. 1980a. Image, Flux, and Space in Plato’s Timaeus. Phoenix 34 (2): 138–152. ———. 1980b. The mechanism of flux in Plato’s Timaeus. Apeiron 14 (2): 96–114. Morrow, Glenn R. 1950. Necessity and Persuasion in Plato’s Timaeus. The Philosophical Review 59 (2): 147–163. Rickert, Gail A. 1989. Hekón and Akón in Early Greek Thought. Atlanta: Scholars Press. Riel, Van. 2021. Matter Doesn’t Matter: On the Status of Bodies in the Timaeus. In Plato’s Timaeus: Proceedings of the Tenth Symposium Platonicum Pragense, ed. Chad Jorgenson, Filip Karfik, and Stepan Spinka, 169–186. Leiden: Brill. Robinson, Thomas. 1970. Plato’s Psychology. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Silverman, Allan. 1992. Timaean Particulars. The Classical Quarterly 42 (1): 87–133. Taylor, Alfred E. 1928. A commentary on Plato’s Timaeus. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Vázquez, Daniel. 2022. Before the Creation of Time in Plato’s Timaeus. In Time and Cosmology in Plato and the Platonic Tradition, ed. Daniel Vázquez and Alberto Ross, 111–133. Leiden: Brill. Vlastos, Gregory. 1939. The Disorderly Motion in the Timaios. Classical Quarterly 33 (2): 71–83. ———. 2005 [1975]. Plato’s Universe. Parmenides Publishing. Zeyl, Donald J. 1975. Plato and Talk of a World in Flux: Timaeus 49a6–50b5. Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 79: 125–148. ———. 1977. Timaeus. In Plato Complete Works, ed. John Cooper, 1224–1291. Indianapolis: Hacket. ———. 2010. Visualizing Platonic Space. In One Book, The Whole Universe, ed. Richard D. Mohr and Barbara M. Sattler, 117–130. Las Vegas: Parmenides Publishing.

9 What Is the Matter with Necessity and Space? Some Reflections on the Timaeus Viktor Ilievski

1 Introduction The purpose of this chapter is to provide an account—hopefully more likely than the already existent ones—of Plato’s notorious ἀνάγκη (Necessity) and χώρα (Space), which both have been associated, to a larger or lesser degree, with the Platonists’ idea of matter, i.e., with the notion of the material substratum of the universe. More precisely, my main aim here is to demonstrate, as far as possible, the following two points. A) If one wants to designate something in the Timaeus as “Plato’s matter”, that thing should be ἀνάγκη, although such an attribution would be anachronistic, because Plato did not operate with the notion of matter, but with that of corporeality instead. B) Consequently, it is impossible for χώρα, which is manifestly and fundamentally different from ἀνάγκη, to play the same role. In other words, χώρα cannot be that out of which, but only that in which the world has been fashioned.

V. Ilievski (*) Autonomous University of Barcelona, Barcelona, Spain e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 V. Ilievski et al. (eds.), Plato on Time and the World, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-28198-3_9

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2 Aristotle’s Vision of Plato’ χώρα as ὕλη: The Origins of a Misconception The identification of the Timaean “third kind” with matter became an interpretational commonplace in ancient Platonism from very early on, at least since Antiochus of Ascalon.1 The credit, or perhaps the blame for that goes to Aristotle, who was the first philosopher to associate Plato’s χώρα with his own ὕλη. Aristotle discusses this issue primarily in the Physics, while expounding his theory of τόπος. He there commends Plato on being the only thinker who does not take place (τόπος) for granted and instead tries to explain what it is (Ph. 209b16–17). Aristotle also exposes Plato’s alleged error of identifying place with space (209b15–16), and space (χώρα)2 with matter (ὕλη).3 In other words, Aristotle’s claim is that by the χώρα of the Timaeus his ὕλη is meant, as well as that Plato did not have a correct grasp of the latter. Aristotle also confronts his teacher’s purported understanding of matter in Ph. I.9, where Plato’s unwritten doctrines4 are brought up and where he is charged with missing out on the crucial difference between matter and privation. In a word, Aristotle states that χώρα, the mother principle of the Timaeus, is the great and the small (τὸ μέγα καὶ τὸ μικρὸν) of the agrapha dogmata,5 and that Plato used these two expressions synonymously to refer to his ὕλη. Aristotle also labels this allegedly Platonic entity as “non-being”—yet

 See Dillon (1996, p. 82). Matter (ὕλα) plays a prominent part in Timaeus Locrus’ synopsis of the Timaeus, but his date is uncertain (see Ilievski, 2022, pp. 46–47). The view of χώρα as ὕλη persisted as an orthodoxy throughout the Middle- and Neoplatonic periods. See, e.g., Plutarch, De an. proc. 1014B–D; Plotinus Enn. II.4.1.1, III.6.13.11–16, III.6.13.18, III.6.13.29, III.6.19.17–18; Proclus, In Ti. I.384.16–22, In Ti. II.10.7–9, In Prm. 834–844, Philoponus, De aet. mundi XIV.11–28, etc. Besides, Plotinus also understood ἀνάγκη as ὕλη: see Enn. III.2.2.15–39. 2  Which he also calls “the participative” (τὸ μεταληπτικὸν, 209b12; τὸ μεθεκτικὸν 209b35), most probably having in mind Ti. 51a7, μεταλαμβάνον (“partaking”). 3  “Plato in the Timaeus says that matter and space are the same thing”—Πλάτων τὴν ὕλην καὶ τὴν χώραν ταὐτό φησιν εἶναι ἐν τῷ Τιμαίῳ, Ph. 209b10–11. (The translations from Greek are mine). For a more complete picture of Aristotle’s argument see the whole passage 209b6–17 and Hussey’s commentary (1993, pp. 104–105). 4  See also Ph. 209b13–16. 5  See Ph. 192a6–12; cf. Ph. 187a17–18, Ph. 209b35–210a2, Metaph. 987b20–21, Metaph. 988a11–14. 1

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another phrase that denotes matter6—out of which, when united with Form, the sensibilia are generated. However, because Plato does not recognize privation (στέρησις), but only ὕλη misconceived as στέρησις, both his concept of matter and his account of generation are faulty and imperfect.7 As far as Plato himself is concerned, he never operated with the notion of ὕλη in its technical, Aristotelian sense;8 as it will be argued below, his cosmological counterpart of Aristotle’s matter was corporeality. Indeed, even the very term ὕλη is rather rare in the corpus: there are only several occurrences, and it is often used to denote (fire)wood (Leg. 761c7, 843e2, 849d5) and timber (Leg. 705c1), although the early meaning of forest and forest tree is also preserved (Leg. 704c8 and Plt. 272a4). The word emerges with a somewhat more abstract sense in Philebus 54c2, where it refers to any material that can be used in any process of generation9—and one could argue that perhaps at this point Plato’s ὕλη timidly approximates the Aristotelian one. Interestingly, ὕλη makes its appearance in the Timaeus as well—but only to disappoint any possible expectations. The word does ultimately refer to building material, but it is applied metaphorically: “We have now sorted out the different kinds of causes, which lie ready for us like timber (ὕλη) for carpenters” (Ti. 69a6–7). This “timber” includes both causes, i.e., the necessary and the intelligent, and Timaeus is going to utilize it as the stuff for the construction of the reminder of his account, just like any carpenter would use wood to  τὸ μὴ ὂν, Ph. 192a7. Perhaps on account of the apophatic description of χώρα in the Timaeus? See Charlton (1970, p. 82). This is, however, hardly the case. Aristotle used to see what he believed to be Plato’s ὕλη as contrary to Being, and therefore a non-being. For a detailed argument that this confusion of Aristotle’s rests on Parmenidean premises and on erroneous reduction of the Platonic Forms to One Being, see Cherniss (1946, pp. 84–85, pp. 91–96, passim). 7  Ph. 191b35–192a25. See Charlton’s commentary (1970, pp. 81–87). See also Ph. 209b13–16. Further criticism of the Timaean concept of “matter”, together with the famous gold analogy, is given in Gen. corr. 329a13–24. While in Ph. I.9 Aristotle blames Plato of superficiality, in the latter work he complains that his teacher’s account lacks precision and clarity. 8  “ὕλη is […] the substratum fit for receiving generation and destruction”: ἐστὶ δὲ ὕλη … τὸ ὑποκείμενον γενέσεως καὶ φθορᾶς δεκτικόν, Gen. corr. 320a2; “ὕλη is the primary substratum of each thing, out of which something comes to be as already existing, and not as accident”: ὕλην τὸ πρῶτον ὑποκείμενον ἑκάστῳ, ἐξ οὗ γίγνεταί τι ἐνυπάρχοντος μὴ κατὰ συμβεβηκός, Ph. 192a31–32. 9  “I say that all drugs, as well as all instruments and every material (πᾶσαν ὕλην) altogether, are each furnished for the sake of some generation (γένεσιν ἄλλην)”, Phlb. 54c1–3. 6

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produce a table. Thus, although one could perhaps overinterpret the last two instances as relatable to Aristotelian matter, it is certain that Plato never used ὕλη in that sense. This fact notwithstanding, the Platonists took the assimilation of χώρα to ὕλη for granted—so profound was Aristotle’s influence.10 The latter’s transgression is, thus, twofold: he imputed to Plato an inferior version of his concept of matter,11 and identified the latter with Plato’s χώρα, misinterpreted as the opposite of the formal principle.12

3 The Ontological Kinds and Causes of the Timaeus That said, it is now time to turn to the Timaeus itself and explore Plato’s position on ἀνάγκη and χώρα on its own merit, independently from the interpretations promulgated by his critics and followers. Up to 47e, “except for a small part”,13 Plato had assumed only one cause (αἰτία) of creation and two kinds (γενή) of existents. The αἰτία was νοῦς, instigated to action through god’s goodness (29d7–e1), i.e., through his inherent propensity to produce order and beauty wherever and whenever possible.  The Neoplatonists had this path paved by their Middle Platonist colleagues, of course; for the thesis that the latter were also influences by Stoic readings of the Timaeus, see Reydams-­ Schils (1999). 11  Claghorn (1954, pp. 9–13) lists some alleged conceptual overlaps between Plato’s receptacle and the Aristotelian πρώτε ὕλη, defending thus Aristotle’s interpretation of χώρα as ὕλη. Nevertheless, Aristotle throughout, and very explicitly at Gen. corr. 329a23–24, states that Plato’s recipient does not qualify to play the role of his matter. It should be noted, however, that Aristotle’s criticism is by and large circular; he assumes that Plato in the Timaeus attempted to posit something like his ὕλη, but failed—see, e.g., Gen. corr. 329a15. The complaint here is that although Plato introduces his πανδεχής (“all-receiving”), he makes no use of it in explaining generation and destruction, but resorts to the elements instead. This objection is valid only if Plato was indeed trying to develop an Aristotelian concept of ὕλη, i.e., of material substratum of generation and destruction. However, it could very well be that Aristotle, like so many others after him, misunderstood Plato’s χώρα to be that out of which, instead of that in which generation had taken place, as Plato probably envisioned it. 12  For a thorough (negative) evaluation of Aristotle’s understanding and criticism of Plato’s χώρα, see Cherniss (1946, Ch. II). 13  The exception was made during the description of the mechanics of vision, when the auxiliary causes (συναιτία) were introduced, for the first time explicitly named thus at 46c7. Cf. Archer-­ Hind (1888, p. 165); Taylor (1928, p. 297); Cornford (1997 [1937], p. 160). 10

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The γενή were Being and Becoming, i.e., the realm of the intelligible Forms, eternal and undecaying on the one hand, and the sensible particulars, subject to permanent flux and thus bereft of substantiality, on the other (27d5–28a1). At 47e4–5, however, the cosmogonic role of another factor is evoked (with the mention of “those things that come to be through necessity”—τὰ δι’ ἀνάγκης γιγνόμενα); next, at 47e5–48a2, Plato explicitly ascribes the universe’s generation to the joint operation of two causes, νοῦς and ἀνάγκη: “for the mixed coming into being of this universe was brought forth by the combination of Intellect and Necessity”.14 Furthermore, at 48e2–3, Plato announces a new beginning (ἀρχή) for the construal of his cosmogonic principles as well: besides the intelligible model (παράδειγμα) and its visible copy (μίμημα), he now recognizes an entity that somehow mediates between these two and accommodates the latter, one that is initially called receptacle (ὑποδοχή) and wet nurse (τιθήνη) of all becoming (49a6). The triad παράδειγμαμίμημα-ὑποδοχή is mentioned—in different order and with different wording—again at 50c6–d4: (“that which becomes, that in which it becomes, that on whose likeness is begotten that which becomes/mother, father, offspring”)15; 52a1–8: (“that which keeps its form always the same […] the second, which is named after and resembles the former […] and again the eternal third kind, that of Space”)16; 52d3: (“Being and Space and Becoming”).17 In this way, Plato in his metaphysical scheme now has two causes and three ontological kinds. To reiterate, one of the causes and two of the kinds have been introduced earlier—these were the νοῦς, represented by the benevolent Demiurge,18 and the παράδειγμα-μίμημα pair, respectively. The new cause and the new principle, namely ἀνάγκη and χώρα, are closely related, but doubtlessly different from one another;  μεμειγμένη γὰρ οὖν ἡ τοῦδε τοῦ κόσμου γένεσις ἐξ ἀνάγκης τε καὶ νοῦ συστάσεως ἐγεννήθη.  τὸ μὲν γιγνόμενον, τὸ δ’ ἐν ᾧ γίγνεται, τὸ δ’ ὅθεν ἀφομοιούμενον φύεται τὸ γιγνόμενον/ μήτηρ, πατήρ, ἔκγονος. 16  τὸ κατὰ ταὐτὰ εἶδος ἔχον … τὸ δὲ ὁμώνυμον ὅμοιόν τε ἐκείνῳ δεύτερον … τρίτον δὲ αὖ γένος ὂν τὸ τῆς χώρας ἀεί. 17  ὄν τε καὶ χώραν καὶ γένεσιν. 18  But also by the interventions of the younger gods, who work in perfect obedience to and unison with the purpose of their maker and father (see 41a–d; 42e; 69c). As a matter of fact, the Demiurge and all ensouled causes that act according to νοῦς are jointly proclaimed to be intelligent craftsmen of things good and beautiful: ὅσαι μετὰ νοῦ καλῶν καὶ ἀγαθῶν δημιουργοὶ, 46e4. 14 15

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the former belongs to the category of αἰτίαi, the latter to that of γενή.19 We shall now turn to these novelties, in the order in which they occur in the dialogue.20

4 Plato’s Account of Necessity as Corporeality From the very beginning of the first part of Timaeus’ speech21 it was made clear that the Demiurge, in effectuating his benevolent cosmogonical purpose, had laboured with some pre-existent material. We are told that he encountered an unruly state of affairs upon which the principles of measure and beauty—and thus goodness—had to be imposed from outside: “For, wanting all things to be good and nothing bad, so far as that is possible, the god took over all that was visible—which did not keep its peace but moved in flawed and disorderly fashion—and led it from disorder to order, considering the latter in every way better than the former”. 22 Now, since nothing that is visible can be without fire, and nothing that is tangible can be without earth, what the Demiurge took over and used as the

 They were mistakenly equated by Plotinus, but also by some contemporary authors. Such a position is easily detectable from the following statements: “necessity as an all-receptive medium is the mysterious ground of cosmic imaging.”; and “necessity as Space or χώρα is the reason why everything in the realm of Becoming is defined in terms of place and has room to be”, Kalkavage (2001, p. 31). See also Van Riel (2021, p. 173): “[m]entioned in Timaeus’ account of the role of Necessity as a third kind” (emphasis added). A rather sophisticated argument to a similar effect is given in Petrucci (2022, pp. 321–324). 20  That said, the reader should be warned that the exclusive label of “cause” that I attribute to ἀνάγκη throughout this chapter must be taken with a grain of salt. It is certainly characterized as such for the purposes and in the context of Timaeus’ creation story; still, that does not prevent Necessity from being an entity, or a thing. On the contrary, after having completed its duty of the creation’s subsidiary cause, ἀνάγκη, i.e., the elements, enter the constitution of the world and become indistinguishable from it. I insist here on Necessity’s causal role for a specific reason: to distinguish it clearly and decisively from the other cosmogonic factor discussed in this chapter, i.e., from Space. 21  29d–47e: The Works of Reason, as Cornford entitles this section of the dialogue. 22  βουληθεὶς γὰρ ὁ θεὸς ἀγαθὰ μὲν πάντα, φλαῦρονδὲ μηδὲν εἶναι κατὰ δύναμιν, οὕτω δὴ πᾶν ὅσον ἦν ὁρατὸν παραλαβὼν οὐχ ἡσυχίαν ἄγον ἀλλὰ κινούμενον πλημμελῶς καὶ ἀτάκτως, εἰς τάξιν αὐτὸ ἤγαγεν ἐκ τῆς ἀταξίας, ἡγησάμενος ἐκεῖνο τούτου πάντως ἄμεινον, 30a2–6. 19

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material for his creation were these and the rest of the elements,23 however while they were still in their vestigial, primordial state of not only disarray, but also of high degree of amorphousness. Hence, the notorious pre-cosmic chaos was constituted of those powers (δυνάμεις)24 endowed with sensible qualities (52e1–2), but devoid of proportion and orderliness, and therefore subsisting as only traces (ἴχνη) of the elements proper (53a8– b2), or rather, of their paradigms—the ideal earth, water, air, and fire. Those traces were the material, or the rudimental corporeality,25 which the god moulded into the known bodies of earth, water, air, and fire by means of shapes and numbers.26 Thus informed and made as beautiful and as good as possible (53b5–6), they were appropriated by the Demiurge. These primary bodies, i.e., the elements, were given the role of auxiliary causes (συναιτία), whose raison d’etre was to be utilized for the purposes of the world’s generation by the primary cause (πρώτε αἰτία): “Now all these things are among the auxiliary causes which god uses as his servants in perfecting the form of the best, as far as possible”.27 The phrase “all these things”—as it is obvious from the section of the Timaeus that precedes this statement and deals with the organ of sight and the mechanism of vision (45b–46c)—refers to the four elements, in that particular case represented by the element of fire. There are, thus, when all is said and done, two types of cosmogonic causes in the Timaeus. The first manifests itself as the ordering power of Intellect, while the second and subordinate one consists of the elemental forces bereft of thought and purpose. These pose a challenge for the goal-­ directed and benevolent intentions of the Demiurge. Thus, at 42c5–d1 the four elements are described as a massive, turbulent and irrational  See Ti. 31b4–32c4.  Labelled thus on account of their capability to affect each other; see Cornford (1997 [1937], p. 199). 25  Pace Harte (2010, pp. 134–135), who claims that they are “configurations of space”, i.e., constituted of χώρα. They are said to enter and exit the cosmic recipient, which implies, at least to my mind, that they come ready-made even before their contact with it. 26  εἴδεσί τε καὶ ἀριθμοῖς, 53b4–5. The εἰδή are the geometrical shapes of the primary bodies that were bestowed upon them by the Demiurge, while the ἀριθμοῖ are the numerical proportions according to which they were constructed. See Taylor (1928, p. 358). All those shapes have as their basis two kinds of right-angled triangles: the scalene and the isosceles. For a brief argument why exactly these two kinds are taken to be the ultimate constituents of the primary bodies’ shapes, see Zeyl (2000, p. lxvi). 27  Ταῦτ’ οὖν πάντα ἔστιν τῶν συναιτίων οἷς θεὸς ὑπηρετοῦσιν χρῆται τὴν τοῦ ἀρίστου κατὰ τὸ δυνατὸν ἰδέαν ἀποτελῶν, 46c7–d1. 23 24

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unrestrained mob, which is in constant need of subjugation by reason, while at 46e5–6 their proclivity to cause chancy, disorderly effects on each occasion is emphasized.28 In the august opening of the second part of Timaeus’ speech (47e–48a), the elements, now under the label of ἀνάγκη, are contrasted to νοῦς, while at 48a7 this same ἀνάγκη is synonymously named errant or wandering cause—πλανωμένη αἰτία.29 A cause of this kind must be errant for the reason that it remains purposeless and dull and always receives its principle of order from the outside.30 As such, it is bound to do disservice to the Demiurge, unless  ὅσαι μονωθεῖσαι φρονήσεως τὸ τυχὸν ἄτακτον ἑκάστοτε ἐξεργάζονται. See also the aforementioned 30a2–6, then 53b1–4 and 69b3–4. These, unlike 42c5–d1 and 46e5–6, refer to the pre-cosmic state of affairs. As the latter cases show, remnants of the initial disorder obviously survive the demiurgic intervention and continue to drive corporeality towards the worse. 29  Pace Miller (2003, pp. 66–70), who claims that the wandering cause is different from Necessity. According to him, Timaeus states that, in order to understand the generation of the cosmos, one must discuss the cooperation of Intellect and Necessity, “and further (‘also’) consideration of the ‘wandering cause’ must be mixed into the account” (2003, p. 67). Besides some clear contextual and grammatical indications to the opposite (e.g., Miller’s “further” is the humble καί of 48a6, while the whole sentence is introduced by the inferential particle οὖν, which implies a continuation or conclusion of the previous discourse about Necessity, and not an introduction of a new subject—the allegedly novel wandering cause), this view also fits very badly within the overall account of the Timaeus. Namely, Miller allows for Necessity to coincide with the “auxiliary cause” (2003, p. 67), but not with the “wandering cause”. The upshot of this line of reasoning is that there is a third kind of cause in the Timaeus besides νοῦς and ἀνάγκη-συναίτια, i.e., πλανωμένη αἰτία. However, in the text only Intellect and Necessity are recognized as causes of cosmic generation (see 46d7–e1, 47e5–48a2, 68e6–7). Furthermore, there are no indications anywhere that a separate πλανωμένη αἰτία should be responsible for the shaking of the receptacle (Miller, 2003, p. 70), which is clearly produced by its interaction with the traces, and which is anyways a pre-cosmic phenomenon. The identity of Necessity and the wandering cause is also recognized by Ferrari (2022, p. lxxxiv). For a radically different view of ἀνάγκη and πλανωμένη αἰτία, but also of the receptacle, see Araújo in this volume, especially 1.1, 2.1–2.3. 30  Ti. 48a7. Johansen is right in objecting the opinion found in Grote “as quoted approvingly by Cornford” (2004, p. 93), that the wandering cause does not necessitate its effects, i.e., that it represents an utterly indeterminate, unpredictable force. However, I believe that Cornford in fact does not hold such a view, and that the real issue here is not whether the πλανωμένη αἰτία causally determinates its effect, but whether it produces disorderly results—as noted by Johansen as well (2004, p.  94). The whole issue is presented succinctly by Gregory (2008, p. xlvii), who distinguishes between two senses of chance and disorder: “(1) An event might be said to occur by chance because there is no causal chain that leads to its occurrence, contrasting chance with causal determinism. (2) An event might be said to occur by chance in the absence of design.” Plato in the Timaeus does not pay much attention to the first sense, but dwells on and draws important consequences from the second. This is also recognized by Broadie (2012, p. 182): “But the disorderliness and the wandering do not mean chaos or total absence of determinate motions. The point, rather, is that the materials taken for use by cosmos-building Intelligence were astray and random in relation to the cosmic desideratum.” 28

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the latter persuades it into obedience.31 The Platonic term of art for that causal entity became Necessity (ἀνάγκη), an umbrella name for auxiliary cause (συναίτιον, 46d1, 76d6), contributing cause (συμμεταίτιον, 46e6), wandering cause (πλανωμένη αἰτία, 48a7), subordinate cause (αἰτία ὑπηρετούσα, 68e4). Necessity is, thus, the subsidiary, non-­ teleological cause, second to the purposeful operations of νοῦς and originated in the χώρα. The final clause of the previous sentence merits serious attention, since in the current formulation it gives rise to a whole new puzzle, i.e., to the issue of ἀνάγκη’s supposed “birth” or beginning. The matter at hand, as I see it, is not necessarily tied to the notorious problem of the temporal origin of the universe, i.e., to the literalist-metaphorist debate,32 but instead to the relation of the cosmogonic ἀνάγκη to the eidetic traces in unruly motion found in the χώρα prior to Demiurge’s intervention. In other words, regardless of whether one holds that the chaotic state precedes the cosmic one factually or only logically, ἀνάγκη is still either present or absent from the former. To put it perhaps more clearly, there are two conflicting approaches to the question of ἀνάγκη’s origin: according to one, it exists already in the pre-cosmic chaos, i.e., it is unoriginated, while according to the other it arises only after the construction of the primary bodies. These two approaches will be illustrated here with the help of the reflexions of W. K. C. Guthrie and Thomas Johansen, taken as paradigmatic cases of the dispute. So, when Guthrie writes that the pre-cosmic mobility “just ‘came about of necessity’ (47e), whose ‘nature is to cause motion’ (47e–48a)”,33 he implies that Necessity, or the πλανωμένη αἰτία, is causally active even before the  This claim has been disputed frequently. For a brief argument in favour of ἀνάγκη’s recalcitrance, see Ilievski (2016, 216–219). 32  On which, see Boys-Stones (2018, pp. 184–211), Petrucci (2018, pp. 26–75), Sorabji (1983, pp. 268–275) (for the Ancients); Carone (2005, pp. 31–32, p. 204 n. 19), Zeyl (2000, pp. xx–xxv) (for the modern critics). 33  Guthrie (1978, p. 272). 31

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demiurgic ordering. Johansen, on the other hand, believes that “Necessity is a product of the creation, not a precondition of it. There are no necessitating causes in the pre-cosmos with sufficient reality to possess causal efficacy”.34 This is to say that ἀνάγκη, the contributing or auxiliary cause, was in fact produced by the Demiurge for his own purposes. He imposed number and proportion on the eidetic traces, turning them into the four simple bodies, the universe’s building blocks. The latter view seems more appealing, and it can be defended by a simple modus tollens type of reasoning: a) If ἀνάγκη is operational in the primordial chaos, it would give rise to some effects35; b) but the chaos is causally impotent36; therefore, Necessity is absent from the pre-cosmic state. To put it differently, it is rather clear that ἀνάγκη was a term used by Plato to designate the potencies and natures of the elements employed for the purpose of creating as good a world as possible. However, neither the elements nor their natures were fully manifested in the early χώρα. Instead, they were formed and proportioned out of the pre-existing material only after Demiurge’s intervention. There was, therefore, no ἀνάγκη prior to that event, regardless of whether the antecedence of the chaotic state is taken in (quasi) temporal or only in logical sense.37 This is not to say that no sort of necessity discourse is applicable to the primordial stage. For example, the beginningless presence of the eidetic traces in the receptacle seems to be a matter of metaphysical necessity, because both the latter and the Forms are eternally existent and eternally interacting entities; the irregular motions of the pre-cosmos seem to be causally necessary, because the receptacle cannot not be kinetically affected by the presence of the eidetic traces and vice versa. Nevertheless, it is important to note that these are instances of implicit modal propositions, where the word “necessity” adverbially modifies the given clause. In contrast with this usage, the relevant ἀνάγκη of the Timaeus is a term applied  Johansen (2004, p. 97).  For it is made clear in Ti. 47e3–48a7 that Necessity is productive. 36  As it is confirmed in Ti. 52d4–53b5. Even the spatial grouping of the traces according to the like-to-like principle is not their own doing, but a result of their interaction with the χώρα (see 53a2–7). The traces do produce motion (again on account of their contact with the χώρα), but this is no causal activity proper, since its effect is indeterminate irregularity, a non-being. 37  However, cf. Petrucci (2022, p. 322). 34 35

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substantively, not as a covert modal operator. In this case it designates a causal factor that plays a significant cosmogonic role, wherefore it is often rendered capitalized in the modern translations of the dialogue. As far as Guthrie’s interpretation is concerned, I suspect that he grounds it on two indubitable textual facts: a) the pre-cosmic chaos is in motion (30a, 52e–53a); b) the secondary cause (i.e., ἀνάγκη) has the power to set things adrift (47e–48a, and possibly 46e). In conjunction with his (veridical) conviction that the source of the pre-cosmic motion cannot be psychic,38 these two points seem to make the claim of ἀνάγκη’s presence in the early χώρα viable. For, how else should primordial motion be explained? The probability of Guthrie’s assumption is reinforced by Plato’s statement in the Politicus that the corporeal element (τὸ σωματοειδές) partook of much disorder prior to entering the present ordered universe39—a clear allusion to the Timaean distinction between the initial chaotic state of the cosmic stuff and the posterior orderly one that follows the demiurgic intervention. However, this view does have obvious weaknesses. Even if we leave aside the slight misquotation— ἀνάγκη and πλανωμένη αἰτία of Ti. 47e–48a are not meant to designate the cause of the pre-cosmic motion, as Guthrie has it, but of bodies and processes in the universe40—his claim remains vulnerable to the above argument from Necessity’s causal efficacy, which seems valid and convincing. Although to my mind the first view above has some serious advantages, the second one does not seem altogether devoid of merits either. Therefore, perhaps choosing a middle way between them would be preferable to taking sides. An approach of such a kind could be voiced through the claim that Necessity’s presence at the pre-cosmic stage is possible only if the former is understood in a qualified sense. That is to say, what Guthrie calls the cause of disorderly motion, and what is actually the activity of  Guthrie (1978, pp. 271–272). This has been a matter of a long-standing controversy, but the text is clear: the pre-cosmic swaying and shaking is produced by the interaction of the elementary traces and the receptacle. See Ti. 52d4–53a2, esp. 52e1–5. See also Ilievski (2013, pp.  43–51); Parry (2002, pp. 295–299). 39  Plt. 273b4–6. I take τὸ σωματοειδές of the Politicus to be used synonymously with ἀνάγκη of the Timaeus, as it will be argued below. 40  See pp. 184–187 above. 38

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the traces in their corelation with the χώρα, can be only some kind of proto-ἀνάγκη, in the same way as the mobile particles of fire, water, etc., are detectable merely in their rudimentary, or proto-forms. Or, falling back on Plato’s own parlance, it was only the unpersuaded, worthless potency of the traces that used to fluctuate all over the χώρα prior to the world’s coming to be.41 Because ἀνάγκη proper, as it was already briefly argued and as it is confirmed in the Timaeus, is causally pertinent and ultimately for the sake of the divine,42 regardless of how fallible it may be. The question of ἀνάγκη’s origin thus set aside, it is now time to move to the last issue that is going to be considered in this section. Notwithstanding the opinions of Aristotle, many Platonists, and later critics, I submit that the closest cosmological equivalent of what they held to stand for Plato’s “matter” was de facto ἀνάγκη, and not χώρα. As it was already pointed out, Plato never used the term matter (ὕλη) in its Aristotelian sense, and it is highly dubitable that he even possessed the same concept; for, unlike his disciple, Plato was not a hylomorphist. Nevertheless, this important difference does not alter the fact that ἀνάγκη, being constituted of and remaining nondifferent from the four elements, was indeed the material utilized by the Demiurge for the purpose of producing the sensible world.43 To put it anachronistically, the immediate “material cause” of the Timaeus is thus ἀνάγκη, and not χώρα. This is to say that while Plato, despite the persistent conviction to the contrary among his successors, most probably was not acquainted with Aristotle’s ὕλη, he evidently possessed a concept of the physical, or of  This view is shared by Adamson, who distinguishes two aspects of necessity—persuaded and unpersuaded—and correctly relates the latter to the pre-cosmic state (2011, pp. 17–18). He, nevertheless, also holds that cosmic ἀνάγκη is fully persuaded and teleological. As a brief rejoinder, I shall only suggest that Necessity always retains vestiges of the initial unpersuadedness, on which account the imperfection of the world is explained. Thus, Adamson (2011, pp. 11–12) cites the example of the human skull (Ti. 75a–c) as a case of persuaded ἀνάγκη. Persuaded it is indeed, but only to a degree (see, e.g., 48a2–3). A fully persuaded Necessity would allow for a thick and sensitive bone. However, due to the recalcitrance inherited from the unpersuaded stage, the Demiurge must shake hands on a sensitive but brittle skull. 42  See Ti. 69a2–5. 43  Rather similar seems to be the opinion of Guthrie as well: “[Necessity] symbolizes the ultimate intractability of matter, which no craftsman can overcome entirely” (1978, p. 274). A subtle difference is that I accept Necessity to be the material, or the stuff of the creation, but strictly speaking not its matter as well—on account of Plato’s aloofness from the concept of ὕλη. 41

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“materiality”, which stood as something different from and opposed to soul and Form. It is almost equally obvious that this something for Plato was represented by the notion of corporeality, or bodily nature. Consequently, as far as Plato’s materiality is concerned, I believe that he conceived of it first as something bodily and constituted of the four elements.44 As we have already seen, the subservient cause of the Timaeus, i.e., ἀνάγκη, is exactly such, while what used to be the prime candidate for Platonic matter, i.e., χώρα, is qualityless, but also non-corporeal.45 Therefore, if the assertion “Necessity is Plato’s principle of the physical” has any claim to plausibility—and it seems that it does—it could be further stated that ἀνάγκη qua “matter” is best represented by the descriptions “bodily kind”, “bodily nature”, or simply by “corporeality”. I find this corroborated by two sets of textual indications. First, Plato in the Timaeus calls the elements (that constitute ἀνάγκη) bodies (50b6; 53c4–5, d4–5, d7–e5; 54b3–4), talks of the body of the universe (τὸ τοῦ παντὸς σῶμα, 31b7, 32a8; τὸ τοῦ κόσμου σῶμα, 32c1), and describes the latter as something bodily, or more precisely, as the “corporeal kind” (σωματοειδές, 31b4; τὸ σωματοειδές, 36d9). Second, in the Politicus the phrases “bodily nature” (σώματος φύσις, 269d6–7), “having a share of body” (κεκοινώνηκέ σώματος, 269d9–e1), “the corporeal kind” (τὸ σωματοειδές, 273b4) are used synonymously with the Timaean ἀνάγκη, i.e., they all denote the same referent. This claim concerning the Politicus might ask for a little elaboration. All the above three instances appear within the cosmological myth of the dialogue (Plt. 268d–276e). In the first two cases, the bodily element is contrasted with the Forms and the Begetter (ὁ γεννήσας, 269d9), and refers to materiality in general and to the physical constituent of the 44  For a similar thesis, see Van Riel (2021). He, however, does not relate the bodily nature to ἀνάγκη, claims χώρα to be corporeal, and equates the two (for the latter point see fn. 19 above). My opinion is that this does not correspond to Plato’s views, as argued throughout this chapter. 45  I use the term “non-corporeal” instead of the usual “incorporeal” in order to both emphasize what I perceive as a crucial difference between χώρα and ἀνάγκη, and also to distinguish the former from the non-controversially incorporeal entities, as are the Forms, God, the rational soul. Хώρα’s composition is not that straightforward. As a matter of fact, Plato does not directly mention χώρα’s non-corporeality, but I believe that it is deducible from its other apophatic characteristics, like invisibility and shapelessness (51a7). Plotinus is much more explicit in this regard; see Enn. II.4.8– 9. See also Petrucci (2022, p. 349).

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universe, respectively. The latter is, as we know from the Timaeus, produced by the Demiurge—on this occasion named “the Begetter”— who for his purpose utilizes the four primary bodies, combined together to form the auxiliary cause, or ἀνάγκη. The third occurrence reflects the Necessity of the Timaeus even more clearly. Τὸ σωματοειδές is said to be that element in the “mixture”—a term which here designates the universe—which pushes it to degradation, because this same τὸ σωματοειδές, or corporeality, used to partake of much disorder (ὅτι πολλῆς ἦν μετέχον ἀταξίας, 273b5–6) before the present structure of the universe was instituted. This unequivocally evokes both the mixed composition of the universe (comprised of νοῦς and ἀνάγκη, Ti. 47e5–48a2) and the potentially erratic behaviour of the unintelligent causes (Ti. 46e5–6) when left on their own, as well as the primordial state of disorderly motion in the early χώρα (Ti. 30a4–5). Differently put, in Politicus 273b4–c2 Plato discusses τὸ σωματοειδές—the bodily nature, the corporeal kind, or simply corporeality—which in its present state of being functions as an important ingredient in the world’s constitution.46 This constituent also existed before the ordering of the cosmos, however in a condition of utter disorder, the residues of which are responsible for all grievous and unjust things that arise in the universe (ὅσα χαλεπὰ καὶ ἄδικα ἐν οὐρανῷ γίγνεται, 273c1). The way I see it, this passage of the Politicus bears an unmistakeable and doubtless allusion to the physical ingredient of the Timaean universe, i.e., to Necessity and its two phases: the current organized and proper one, and the pre-cosmic proto state of irregularity and darkness. In a word, although the detection of matter in the Timaeus is thoroughly an Aristotelian imposition—later successfully fostered by the Platonists—Plato obviously does recognize and operate with the notion of corporeality. Although structurally different, it is functionally analogous to what was to become known as causa materialis. As opposed to Aristotle’s passive substratum of form, Plato’s principle of physicality is the already active and informed ἀνάγκη, i.e., τὸ  It is important to note that Plato used τὸ σωματοειδές to refer to the bodily aspect of being already in the Phaedo. Therein he repeatedly labels everything that is associated with the nature of the physical—including body, sense objects, affections and materiality in general—as τὸ σωματοειδές, and contrasts the latter with soul and the intelligible. See Phd. 81b3–6, c4–6, d9–e2; 83d4–5, 86a1–3. 46

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σωματοειδές. It is comprised of the four elements, or the principal bodies, and is thus itself corporeal and the source of all corporeality; it combines with Intellect to produce the world as we know it. What the text of the dialogue does not disclose, is how the rudimentary elements, i.e., their pre-ordered traces, acquired their corporeality. That they are bodily already in the chaotic state is made obvious at 30a2–6, where the attribute “visible” is applied to them,47 and emphatically confirmed at 31b4–5: “Surely the generated ought to be bodily, i.e., both visible and tangible”.48 I guess that this is one of the cases when one ought to rely on the “bare fact” strategy. Plato somehow considers that the elemental traces become corporeal simply by being reflected upon the χώρα.49

5 The Conundrums of the Timaean Space The preceding sentence brings us naturally to the second main task intended to be undertaken in this chapter: to try and understand χώρα, the underlying factor in which Becoming takes place, and to examine its relation to Plato’s ἀνάγκη, or to the elements that constitute the latter. As aforesaid and as commonly known, χώρα is the third kind of the Timaean ontology introduced in the dialogue with the commencement of the “second beginning concerning the universe” (48e2). Previously only the model and its copy were distinguished50 and deemed sufficient, because the account was not dwelling on the details of the physical creation. But now, when the formation of the building blocks of the universe and their properties are about to be explained, the tertium quid of the Timaeus, i.e., their recipient, must be illuminated as well. Understanding this peculiar entity is not an easy task, warns Plato,  See pp. 184–185 above.  Σωματοειδές δὲ δὴ καὶ ὁρατὸν ἁπτόν τε δεῖ τὸ γενόμενον εἶναι. Not less relevant for the present discussion is Plato’s bringing together the visible and the bodily in Resp. 532c7–d1, where he describes the physical world as “the corporeal and visible realm”—τῷ σωματοειδεῖ τε καὶ ὁρατῷ τόπῳ. Besides, this is perhaps earliest appearances of τὸ σωματοειδές in the corpus. 49  For a distinct and much more developed interpretation of the coming to be of the elementary bodies, see Araújo in this volume, especially 3.2.1–3.2.2. 50  These are, of course, Being and Becoming, i.e., the Forms and the creation. See pp. 182–183 above. 47 48

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because a concept so obscure and previously unheard of is difficult to explicate through λόγοι.51 He still ventures to begin by describing the third kind in a succinct, albite poetic and imprecise language: “What power, then, and what nature one must suppose it to have? Most of all the following: that it is a receptacle (ὑποδοχή) of all Becoming, its wet nurse (τιθήνη), as it were” (49a4–6). This explanation, however, discloses more of χώρα’s role than of its nature, or constitution. Perhaps that is all that Plato wants from his third kind, perhaps what is important is the function that it performs, while its essence must be expressed in an apophatic manner. It would be prudent, thus, to start with taking a closer look at χώρα’s role in the Timaeus and see whether that shall lead us to grasping what Plato might have supposed the third kind’s true nature to be, or its characterization must remain solely functional. Plato the cosmologist is bound to introduce the receptacle of Becoming because he wants to grant the changing phenomena some stand in reality. The problem of transience and instability is brought to the reader’s attention through the partially observable inter-transformation of the elements. Water, through condensation, becomes earth; earth melts down, dissolves and passes into air, which in turn changes into fire, and vice versa. All elements perpetually alter into one another.52 However, if there is nothing that survives the change, how can anything be called by a specific name or identified as a particular something? In a world devoid of a metaphysical reference point extreme Heracliteanism would be the only conceivable ontology. Besides, no discourse concerning this world could be viable, or even possible, and one would have no other option but to resort, whatever the issue, to the Cratylean moving of the finger.  i.e., discourses, see Ti. 49a3–7. “The receptacle is probably the hardest and most philosophically challenging concept in Timaeus”, Gregory (2008, p. xlix). Indeed, χώρα is said to be a difficult and obscure kind (χαλεπὸν καὶ ἀμυδρὸν εἶδος, 49a3–4), and is once again called difficult in the same passage (χαλεπόν, 49a7). However, if one wants to split hairs, the Demiurge is even harder a concept, because discovering τὸν ποιητὴν καὶ πατέρα is a (difficult) task (ἔργον, 28c4), but describing him to all is impossible (ἀδύνατον 28c5). 52  See Ti. 49b7–d3. Later Plato corrects himself and offers a more precise account: in fact, only three primary bodies are capable of changing into one another; the particles of the fourth one can group only to form the same body again (54b5–d2). It soon becomes clear that the body which cannot pass into any other is earth, being the only one composed of isosceles triangles. It is represented by the geometric solid cube (55b3–c4). 51

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Plato does not hold the world of sense in the highest regard, but he is not a follower of Cratylus either; therefore, in order to grant some limited substantiality and intelligibility to the world of Becoming, he calls to his aid the images of the self-same eternal realities53 and the difficult to comprehend concept of the cosmic ὑποδοχή. The former justifies the application of names “fire”, “water”, etc., to sequences of the phenomenal flux by relating them to the Forms, while the latter provides a locus for the flux.54 That is to say that the receptacle does not give substantiality to the images by entering their constitution, but solely by providing them with a stable standing ground. Plato further elaborates on the role of the χώρα as follows. It is that in which (ἐν ᾧ) the images of the eternal realities always present themselves as coming to be (ἐγγιγνόμενα ἀεὶ ἕκαστα αὐτῶν φαντάζεται), and from which (ἐκεῖθεν) they perish (49e7–8). While these continually change and therefore evade any precise description, the same cannot be said of that “nature which receives all bodies” (τῆς τὰ πάντα δεχομένης σώματα φύσεως, 50b6). The recipient always remains self-same (ταὐτὸν αὐτὴν, 50b6–7) and never departs from its own character (ἐκ γὰρ τῆς ἑαυτῆς τὸ παράπαν οὐκ ἐξίσταται δυνάμεως, 50b7–8), although it constantly welcomes diverse things with different properties. It is therefore appropriate to apply the demonstratives “this” and “that” to the receptacle only (50a1–2).55 This is not so because it was envisioned as some kind of  i.e., the images or traces of the elements’ Forms.  The dichotomy in this sentence is based on Cherniss’ reading of Timaeus 49c–50a. See the following footnote. 55  Two main interpretative currents are attached to this statement and to the contested passage where it appears—the one nowadays known as the traditional, the other instituted by Cherniss (1954). Without going into detail, I shall underline what appears to be the main crux of the matter, which I find in the variant readings of 49d4–6: ἀεὶ ὃ καθορῶμεν ἄλλοτε ἄλλῃ γιγνόμενον, ὡς πῦρ, μὴ τοῦτο ἀλλὰ τὸ τοιοῦτον ἑκάστοτε προσαγορεύειν πῦρ. The traditional rendering reads “whatever we observe as always coming to be, sometimes here, sometimes there—like, for example, fire—such fire on each occasion should be spoken of as what is such (τὸ τοιοῦτον), not as this (τοῦτο)”, and implies the following interpretation: what we colloquially call “fire” should not be considered to be some stabile or fixed “this”, but a “fire-like” phase of an ever-changing phenomenon. The only “this” is the χώρα. Cherniss, on the other hand, takes τοῦτο and τὸ τοιοῦτον to be subjects of the sentence and interprets it to mean that no “this”, i.e., no particular phenomenal manifestation of fire should be called “fire”, but only that which is always such, i.e., that which grants its fiery property to the constant flux and is not affected by it. The passage thus recognizes two this-es: the “distinct and self-identical characteristics” (1954, p. 128) and the χώρα. The former are images of the Forms to which the phenomenal flux is due and the only true referents of the name “fire”, etc. The latter is the receptacle wherein the phenomenal flux takes place. For a neat comparison of both translations of the passage, short discussion and further references, see Zeyl (2000, pp. lvi–lix). For a more detailed analysis of the debate, see Sallis (1999, pp. 101–105). 53 54

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Aristotelian material subject of change,56 but only because it is a fixed entity to which demonstrative pronouns can be applied, unlike the phenomenal flux. To reiterate, χώρα’s role is to serve as the stable element of the creation, as its spatial substrate57 that accommodates the ever-­ changing images which would otherwise be nowhere and consequently nothing.58 Plato’s “definition” of his third kind—which I single out because it is the only description expressed in a somewhat technical language—is “that in which [the becoming] comes to be” (τὸ δ’ ἐν ᾧ γίγνεται, 50d1).59 The same idea of that in which is conveyed by every single term or phrase that designates the χώρα in all other listings of Plato’s three kinds in the dialogue.60 This being said, it is now time to dedicate a few words to χώρα’s “own character from which it never departs”. Once again, Plato makes it clear that he is trying to explicate a nature most difficult to grasp (δυσαλωτότατον, 51b1).61 The third kind is an entity altogether invisible, shapeless (ἀνόρατον εἶδός τι καὶ ἄμορφον, 51a7), in every way non-­ sensible, i.e., non-corporeal, and completely qualityless. Were it not such, it could not have been properly called all-receptive (πανδεχές, 51a7),  Broadie (2012, p. 188) writes: “To motivate postulating the Receptacle, Plato has to exhibit fire and the others as essentially qualifications, the terms for them as essentially adjectival. Once this is accepted, then the picture cannot be complete without postulating a subject which they qualify, a fundamental this on which they depend.” I do not think that this is right. Such an assumption puts the χώρα and the phenomena in a subject-predicate and substance-accident relation. But the phenomenal earth, etc., do not inhere in or qualify their recipient; the latter remains always qualityless. From this also seems to follow that the receptacle is the element’s substratum—an interpretation I am trying to argue against. 57  I use the word “substrate” in the phrase “spatial substrate” in order to distinguish it from the metaphysically ladened “substratum”, which all too often almost automatically refers the reader to the Aristotelian material cause. As it will be shown, I hold that Plato’s χώρα is a substrate, albeit not as a “substratum”, but instead in the word’s biological sense of a medium on or in which (living) things grow and move. Of course, the emphasis is here on “medium” as contrasted with “substratum”, and not on any biological connotations. 58  ἀναγκαῖον εἶναί που τὸ ὂν ἅπαν ἔν τινι τόπῳ καὶ κατέχον χώραν τινά: “it is perhaps necessary for everything that exists to be in some place and occupy some space”, 52b3–5. Otherwise, it is noting (οὐδὲν εἶναι, 52b5). Also, διὰ ταῦτα ἐν ἑτέρῳ προσήκει τινὶ γίγνεσθαι […] ἢ μηδὲν τὸ παράπαν αὐτὴν εἶναι: “therefore, it belongs [to an image] to come to be in something else […] or to be altogether nothing”, 52c3–5. 59  The ἐν ᾧ formula, as applied to Plato’s third kind, appears also in the aforementioned 49e7, as well as in 50d6. 60  See 49a6, 50d3, 52a8, 52d3 and p. 183 above. 61  See also fn. 51 above. 56

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because it would have transferred its own properties to the images projected upon it. To add to the difficulty, the receptacle is proclaimed to partake of the Intelligible, although in a most perplexing way (μεταλαμβάνον δὲ ἀπορώτατά πῃ τοῦ νοητοῦ, 51b1).62 Its limited affinity with Being is highlighted with the descriptions “ever existent” and “never admitting of destruction”, which appear in the same sentence where the third kind is for the first time designated as χώρα.63 Besides, like the Forms and unlike Becoming, χώρα has separate existence independent from the Demiurge. Thus, being characterless and invisible, χώρα is aloof from the senses and not apprehensible by opinion, as Becoming is. However, in opposition to the Forms, it is not a proper object of intellection (νόησις) either. The third kind is graspable by some sort of intermediate faculty, which Plato calls bastard, or perhaps better—supposititious reasoning, that operates without the aid of sense perception (μετ’ ἀναισθησίας ἁπτὸν λογισμῷ τινι νόθῳ, 52b2). This supposititious reasoning (λογισμός νόθος) seems to be stipulated as a third cognitive faculty—besides reason and opinion64—responsible solely for approaching the χώρα. However, after the fanciful language and the dream simile of Ti. 52b–c are stripped off, it seems that the phrase most probably refers to conjectural reasoning.65 For, as Plato writes in the same passage (52b3–5), nobody can conceive of anything that exists without it existing in something, i.e., in some place (τόπος) or space (χώρα). This  I believe that with the notion of partaking or participation in the Intelligible, Plato intends to convey that χώρα shares with it the properties of being ungenerated, unchangeable, eternal, etc. That is, he does not postulate an intelligible χώρα: “There is no archetype of Space, which exists in its own right as surely as does the Form”, Cornford (1997, p. 193). 63  Ti. 52a8: “And there is further the third kind that belongs to Space, ever existent and never admitting of destruction”—τρίτον δὲ αὖ γένος ὂν τὸ τῆς χώρας ἀεί, φθορὰν οὐ προσδεχόμενον. For the richness of meanings of the Greek word and an opinion on the best rendering, see Kalkavage (2001, pp. 142–143). For a much more detailed discussion, complete with an account of the usage of the term in other texts of the Platonic corpus, see Sallis (1999, pp. 115–119). 64  See 28a1–4, 51d4–e7. 65  Thus also Ferrari, 2022, lxxxix: “[o]ssia di un ‘ragionamento impuro’, che si avvicina alla congettura”. 62

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implies that also in the cases of the eidetic traces and the Becoming one has to conjecture, or hypothesize, an extension of space that accepts them, although it is neither directly accessible to intellection, nor perceptible by the senses—as the Forms and the world respectively are.66 Its peculiar, in-between epistemological status, makes the χώρα graspable only in a kind of a dream-like state, inasmuch as dream consciousness can be viewed as a third kind, besides wakeful perception and intellective contemplation. From what has been said so far, it appears that χώρα’s cosmological role is to receive and accommodate both the eidetic images before the demiurgic ordering, as well as the full-blown creation,67 while its own character is to be neither sensible nor intelligible, although it shares with the latter class some important qualities like being beginningless, indestructible, etc. Most importantly, χώρα is itself devoid of any qualities and, owing the that, a perfect recipient of the eidetic images. These, in turn, cause the parts of the recipient occupied by them to appear as fire, water, etc.,68 although it is none of those. The Demiurge takes over the images and transforms them into ἀνάγκη, through which the cosmos is constructed. Plato does not reveal much more as far as χώρα’s nature is concerned, and hence leaves many questions open. Perhaps the most puzzling one is that of χώρα’s relation with its content, i.e., the question of the capacity in which it receives the images, or ἀνάγκη, or the world of change69: is it as matter or moulding stuff out of which the latter is constituted, or rather as spatial extension where the Becoming is accommodated? The text apparently buttresses the ambivalence and allows for both interpretations. Still, the former has been historically considerably more prominent, on account of Aristotle’s influence. At first sight, it also seems backed by some of the metaphorical appellations that Plato ascribes to  Cf. Cornford (1997 [1937], pp. 193–194), who speaks of the process of cognizing the χώρα as “abstraction”. 67  Further textual indication that the χώρα is not simply assimilated in the creation but retains its identity as a part of the final products is 57c2–6, where the motion of the recipient (τὴν τῆς δεχομένης κίνησιν, 57c3) and its shaking is brought up in relation to the change of place of the fully formed and functional “atoms” of the elements. See also 88d, and cf. Broadie (2012, p. 190). 68  See 51b2–6. 69  Some literalists would see these three as subsequent stages in the organization of the universe. 66

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the cosmic recipient, as well as by the analogies meant to explain more clearly the nature of the χώρα, but also its relation to the eidetic images. In what follows, we shall cast a glance at the loci that appear to support the material substratum interpretation of χώρα, and then pass to the other horn of the dilemma. The evidence for the former is actually very slim. It has been assumed that the ἐκμαγεῖον simile of 50c2 suggests an understanding of χώρα as matter,70 although in reality it need not lead to such a conclusion. For, the word does not mean “moulding-stuff”,71 but instead “something in which impressions are made”, and the image that the simile portrays is not of a material out of which objects are formed, but of a recipient which is itself being “moved and reshaped by the things that enter it”.72 Neither do τιθήνη (“wet nurse”, 49a5, 52d5, 88d6), τρόφος (“nurse, nurturer”, 88d6), nor μήτηρ (“mother”, 50d3, 51a4) point toward “the constitutive aspect” of χώρα,73 because a wet nurse or a nurturer do not constitute, but only receive and rear the child. Surprisingly, even the mother was often considered by the Greeks to offer only place and nurture for the child, while as the proper cause of generation solely the father used to be recognized.74 Besides, although Keimpe Algra in his erudite contribution continually refers to the χώρα as that ἐν ᾧ (in which) and ἐξ οὗ (out of which) the creation of bodies takes place,75 the second propositional phrase 70  See Algra (1995, p.  77); Fronterotta (2014a, p.  14); most probably Guthrie (1978, p.  263). Hager (1987, p. 28) identifies χώρα with matter on the basis of broader metaphysical considerations, independent from the attributes and similes applied to it. 71  As rendered by Bury (1929, p. 117). 72  κινούμενόν τε καὶ διασχηματιζόμενον ὑπὸ τῶν εἰσιόντων, Ti. 50c2–3. It is true that, as Fronterotta (2014a, p. 14) says, the impression shapes the recipient and gives it a material structure, but that does not mean that the recipient is “that out of which” the impression is made, which is the whole point of the χώρα-as-matter interpretation. 73  See Brisson (1998, pp. 208–212). 74  See Cornford (1997 [1937], p. 187). For a different opinion, see Dean-Jones (2000, pp. 105–108). 75  See Algra (1995, pp. 83, 91, 97–8, 118). Also Forcignanò in this volume, section 4, Fronterotta (2014a, 2014b), Miller (2003, pp. 192–195), Zeyl (2000, lxiii; 2010). They all claim, albite for different reasons and in different manners, that the receptacle fulfils both functions, i.e., that it is a spatio-material recipient of the cosmos. Ferrari calls the χώρα “sostrato spazio-materiale” (2022, pp. lxxxvii, xci), but also adds that, strictly speaking, the cosmic receptacle is neither space nor matter, although it does perform both functions (2022, p. xciv).

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actually does not occur in the relevant cosmological context.76 The only locus where particulars are said to be made out of certain material is the gold analogy (ἐκ χρυσοῦ, 50a6) which, as we shall see shortly, should not be taken as a clear-cut evidence. So much about the terminology. While unfolding the χώρα section of the Timaeus (48e–53a), Plato also employs three analogies, meant to draw the concept closer to his readers’ understanding.77 Especially the first one has been taken to imply that Plato posited a substance out of which the creation was fashioned, i.e., some kind of matter for the elements. It will be argued here briefly that it is not so, as well as that the analogies are wrought with mutual inconsistencies and seem to focus on different aspects of the χώρα as their explanandum. In the gold—golden objects analogy (50a4–b5) the χώρα is compared to a lump of gold, whereas the fleeting primary bodies to different figures fashioned out of that gold (πλάσας ἐκ χρυσοῦ, 50a6). Since those figures, for example triangles, are always liable to be melted and remodelled into each other, they, strictly speaking, do not have independent subsistence, and are better labelled simply as gold—the latter being their origin and principle. It is easy to assume that Plato here presents an image of the χώρα as moulding stuff or material substratum; for how else should one understand the relation between a lump of gold and the golden figures into which it is constantly remodelled? The gold analogy, thus, seems to make a strong case in favour of the material substratum interpretation. This, nevertheless, is not true.78 Were it so, the analogy would offer a very non-Platonic explanation of particulars, i.e., they would be defined via their material cause, and not the formal one. But the particulars, or in this case the eidetic traces, are not simply permutations of the χώρα— they are what they are through their participation in the Forms, or on account of being their images. Thus, if taken as an explanation of the  There are two ἐξ οὗ in the Timaeus, namely 36b5 and 54a7. The first refers to the soul-mixture, the second to the constituents of the equilateral triangle. 77  See 50a4–b5, 50e4–51a1. 78  Pace Algra (1995, p. 77); Ferrari (2022, p. xcv); Fronterotta (2014a, p. 13); Harte (2002, p. 255); Miller (2003, p. 24). Cf. Harte’s (2002, pp. 255–256) very cautious approach: “It seems, therefore, at best unclear […] whether or not the receptacle may in some sense be considered to be matter in light of this image” (2002, p. 256). 76

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relation between the elements and their recipient, the gold analogy remains painfully inadequate.79 I submit that the above is not a matter of the analogy’s inherent incoherence, but that Plato’s purpose in producing it might have been much narrower than it seems at first sight. The gold analogy may very well be meant only to illustrate the passage 49c–50a, which does not depict the χώρα as matter out of which the elements are produced, but as stable and fixed medium in which they constantly appear and from which they constantly disappear. They come and alter and go all the time, while only their recipient stays constant and escapes change. The analogy is there to enunciate just one aspect of the χώρα—its permanence and stability as contrasted with the transitoriness of the traces—and not to postulate it as the creation’s material cause.80 The two illustrations that follow, in a way confirm the above interpretation, because none of them depicts the χώρα as the material out of which things are constituted; they instead highlight another crucial aspect of it as a universal recipient—its utter qualitylessness.81 First comes the analogy of odourless oily substance that serves as base in the process of perfume making (50e5–8). This stuff devoid of scent is meant to receive varied fragrant oils and must be completely neutral, so as not to interfere with the desired scent—e.g., that of rose—by which a particular perfume should be distinguished. The odourless stuff is here obviously envisaged to represent a characterless substrate into which another, propertyendowed thing, is mixed, to the effect that the former becomes  It basically turns the receptacle into some kind of a Presocratic ἀρχή. A very interesting parallel can be drawn here with the central teaching of the Chāndogya Upaniṣad VI, where it is proclaimed that the changing shapes produced out of clay, gold, etc., are best understood as clay or gold, because these are their essences that survive the change of shape. The resemblance, however, stops there, because according to the so-called sat-vidya doctrine of the Upaniṣad, true reality is indeed the underlying stuff of the phenomenal world—whatever that may be—which is certainly far removed from the Platonic doctrine. 80  For a similar take on this issue, see Sattler (2012, p. 177, n. 69). For an allied, but much more complex interpretation of the gold analogy, see Mohr (2005, pp. 101–110). A brief refutation of the thesis that the gold analogy supports the material substrate interpretation of the χώρα, is also given in Mohr (2005, p. 93). 81  This is made clear by the passage that precedes them and which they are meant to illustrate (50d4–e5), where it is explained that the recipient, were it to properly receive the elements, ought to be devoid of any determination. 79

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overwhelmed by the latter’s character—just like parts of the χώρα become fiery when touched by fire, watery when occupied by water. This analogy perhaps paints a better picture of Plato’s intended representation of the cosmic recipient, but it is incompatible with the previous one. For, the odourless oily stuff is not the essence of the perfumes, and they cannot be called rightly “perfume base”, as was the case with the gold lump and the various shapes forged out of it. The essence of the perfume is instead the differentia. That is to say, the particular scent added to the oily base is what makes the patchouli and jasmine perfume what they are, while the base is just the necessary recipient of the fragrance. The resemblance to the χώρα and the eidetic traces is here more clear-cut82 than in the gold analogy which suggested a different image. Nevertheless, if one accepts that these analogies focus on two different aspects of χώρα—its stability and its neutrality—the discrepancy is lessened. The last analogy—that of a soft, pliable material (μαλακός, 50e8) and shapes impressed upon it (50e8–51a1)—once more portrays the relationship between the χώρα and the images differently, and perhaps most accurately mirrors the theoretical idea of eidetic traces that enter into and temporarily modify their recipient. Although far from being explicit, I believe that Plato here refers back to the ἐκμαγεῖον of 50c2, and probably has in mind the picture of a wax tablet or a block of wax and a stylus or a signed ring for making impressions upon the former.83 Just as a person who intends to inscribe letters or impress shapes upon waxen surface first of all makes the latter level in order to smoothen it as perfectly as possible,84 so too the χώρα, upon which the images of the Forms are impressed, ought to be absolutely blank, were the imprints to preserve their own characters of fire, water, etc. The divergence from both gold and perfume base analogies is apparent: the elements are here neither fashioned out of the recipient nor it is infused by them, but they are instead somehow engraved upon it. Nonetheless, the wax analogy—if I  Although still inaccurate, because the fragrance here infuses the entire body of the base, which is not the case with the χώρα; but perhaps no analogy is perfect. 83  Cf. Tht. 191c–e. 84  προομαλύναντες δὲ ὅτι λειότατον ἀπεργάζονται, 50e10. That was, of course, the standard way of using a wax tablet: the surface would be levelled with the straight-edged end of the stylus, and then written upon. 82

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may call it so—fulfils a similar objective like the previous one: it highlights the recipient’s neutral nature. The aforesaid should suffice to demonstrate that Plato did not envision his cosmic recipient as τὸ ἐξ οὗ, that out of which the creation arises. However, it is important to underline that the analogies discussed above, even though not intended to illustrate the interpretation of χώρα as matter, indeed do represent it as some kind of substrate or medium in which the eidetic traces are located and wherein they undergo changes. Moving on to the other horn of the dilemma, it may be noted that a close reading of the relevant passages of the Timaeus shows that the vocabulary and metaphor of location or space is much more prominent, which makes the spatial interpretation less controversially applicable to Plato’s χώρα than the material one. Thus, very soon after the ἐκ (“from”) of 50a6, the figures are said to come to be in (ἐνεγίγνετο, 50b3) their substrate.85 Next, the receptacle is that which receives all kinds in itself (τὸ τὰ πάντα ἐκδεξόμενον ἐν αὑτῷ γένη, 50e5), while in the wax analogy a person makes impressions of figures in some soft materials (ἔν τισιν τῶν μαλακῶν σχήματα ἀπομάττειν, 50e8–9). Then there is the prepositional phrase ἐν ᾧ. At 49e7 it appears together with ἐγγίγνομαι— the factor of stability is that in which the images are coming to be (ἐν ᾧ δὲ ἐγγιγνόμενα). Next comes the already mentioned 50d1, and finally, 50d6: “that in which [the imprints] are set to be imprinted”—αὐτὸ ἐν ᾧ ἐκτυπούμενον ἐνίσταται. Not less significant are the substantives used to denote the third kind that indubitably bear spatial signification: receptacle (ὑποδοχή, 49a6, 51a5),86 recipient (τὸ δεχόμενον, 50d3, 57c3), all-receiving (πανδεχής, 51a7), place (τόπος, 52a6, 52b4), seat, abode (ἔδρα, 52b1).87 Finally, and most significantly, Plato designates the receptacle of Becoming as χώρα, a term that, though it bears various

85  Cf. 24c6: τὸν τόπον ἐν ᾧ γεγένησθε, “the place in which you have been born”; 37c3: ἐν ᾧ […] ἐγγίγνεσθον, “in which they come to be” 86  Cf. 73a3, where a different kind of receptacle is brought up. 87  Cf. 53a2, 59a3, 60c4, 67b5, 72c2, 79b6, 80c5, where the word has different referents.

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meanings,88 in the given context cannot be divorced from the notion of spatial expanse. In fact, the word is not infrequent in the dialogue; there are at least twelve occurrences, and they display a spectrum of nuances of sense. At 19a5 χώρα means place, with the implication of post, position; at 22e2 inhabited region, area; at 23b8 country, region; at 53a6, 57c1, 58a7, 79d6, 82a3 occupied space, region, area, in a locational sense; at 83a4—as part of a prepositional phrase—own, proper, regular post or position; finally, 52a8, b4, d3 are the loci where χώρα is employed in its “metaphysical” sense of Space where the eidetic traces and the creation in general are received. It appears thus that the textual evidence supports the that in which (τὸ ἐν ᾧ) interpretation of Plato’s χώρα, and that the dilemma should be resolved in its favour. This, in turn, gives rise to a strong temptation to assert that the cosmic recipient of the Timaeus is not matter, but space, i.e., not that out of which, but instead that in which generation takes place. What else could have Plato meant when, while endeavouring to describe the third kind, he wrote: “it is perhaps necessary for everything that exists to be in some place and occupy some space”?89 Now, while I do strongly believe that Plato never intended his χώρα to be understood as Aristotle’s ὕλη, or any kind of material substratum for that matter,90 its identification with space remains controversial, for the reason that it seems incompatible with certain passages of the dialogue. A corollary to this issue is the question of the concept of space that Plato intended to denote by the metaphysically relevant occurrences of the term χώρα, and therefore in what follows they will be dealt with jointly.  See fn. 63 above. As Algra (1995, p. 33) shows, the basic meanings of χώρα are the ordinary ones of country, land, ground, place. He distinguishes its last sense from that of τόπος by claiming that the word χώρα always carries with itself the idea of extension that can be occupied, while the former, although largely synonymous, tends to express relative location, or, if used jointly with χώρα, to denote a part of it. This seems to be true, and an example can be found at 57c6, where τόπος clearly designates a region, or part of the cosmic recipient (see also 60c1). However, cf. Sayre (2003, p. 76, n. 4). All in all, I believe that Algra is in the main right, although outside of the Timaeus Plato does use the term χώρα in senses that can hardly be seen as implying extensionality; such examples are Resp. 495c9 and Soph. 254a9. In the former the word refers to the post of the philosopher, or to the area of philosophical discourse, while in the latter to the bright sphere of the Form of Being—and none of these bears proper spatial connotations. 89  52b3–5, see fn. 58 above. Cf. Leg. 893c1–2: “So, isn’t it that in some space (χώρα) both the stationary things remain at rest and the moveable ones move?” 90  As we already saw, that role was, mutatis mutandis, played by ἀνάγκη. 88

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If Plato’s χώρα were taken to mean space as commonly understood— i.e., as sheer extension and not as some kind of entity—it could not “sway irregularly in every direction, being itself shaken by those things91 and, set thus in motion, shake them in turn”.92 Besides, if it were so, the gold, perfume base, and wax analogies would not be only inaccurate and imprecise, but also superfluous and positively misleading; because they do depict the recipient as stuff-like. Finally, since the primary bodies that constitute the world are three-dimensional, that what receives them must be characterized by length, width, and height. Are these cases of flagrant inconsistency, ones that represents portions of the overall incoherence of the concept of the receptacle,93 or is it prudent to assume that Plato worked with a different concept of spatial recipient, one that perhaps both merged and went beyond the intuitive notions of space and stuff?94 I believe that a charitable interpretation is here possible and preferable, as well as that it should rest upon a more appropriate understanding of Plato’s concept of Space, as employed in the Timaeus. Then, what is it that the term χώρα, commonly rendered as “space”, exactly refers to? It is rather obvious that Plato envisioned it as a receptacle that receives the primary bodies and in which the generation of the universe takes place. I have also argued that it is not related to its content as a constitutive or material substratum, but as some kind of spatial  i.e., the eidetic traces.  ἀλλ’ ἀνωμάλως πάντῃ ταλαντουμένην σείεσθαι μὲν ὑπ’ ἐκείνων αὐτήν, κινουμένην δ’ αὖ πάλιν ἐκεῖνα σείειν, 52e3–5. See also 57c3. 93  As argued by Sayre (2003, p. 62). 94  To make it absolutely clear: “went beyond”, because they were conceived not as space in which and stuff out of which, but both as space and stuff in which. It is mostly on the point of this dichotomy that my account diverges from the excellent exposition of Buckels (2016), who also takes Plato’s receptacle to be spatial recipient, not material substratum, but declines to explicate its nature more closely. I also disagree with his handling of the analogies that illustrate the receptacle. First, it is obvious that they should not be taken literally; however, they need to be considered seriously, and we must not “modify the analogy” (Buckels, 2016, 310), but only try to grasp it correctly. In this regard, let me reiterate that their representation of the χώρα as stuff-like medium allows to account for its shaking; Buckels’ claims that “it shakes like any other container”, or that the “Receptacle as a whole shakes”, does not explain much, it seems to me, because empty space can neither shake, nor serve as container. Second, Buckels (2016, pp. 325–327) is aware that imaging is of great help in accessing the nature of Plato’s cosmic receptacle, and therefore resorts to the mirror analogy (see also Mohr, 2005, pp. 90–95). This is, however, nor very helpful. In order to accommodate bodies, χώρα has to be three-dimensional, not a flat surface. Besides, the mirror analogy is simply not there, regardless of how convenient it would have been to some interpreters, and despite the commendable arguments with which Buckels and Mohr explain its absence. 91 92

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substrate. So, what remains unanswered is the question of the specifications of that all-receiving Space.95 It certainly cannot be equated with the void (τὸ κενόν) of the Atomists, which is completely absent from the Timaean cosmos (58a–b), nor with the Aristotelian τόπος, which is not a universal recipient, but the innermost motionless boundary of a containing body.96 It also does not stand for Descartes’ res extensa97 which is essentially corporeal, nor for Newton’s absolute space, which is but a condition for the presence and motion of bodies, i.e., an empty backdrop against which physical phenomena transpire. Plato’s χώρα, on the other hand, is repeatedly described as having both space-like and stuff-like characteristics. Χώρα is an entity, which—if it is to find its apposite place within the cosmological, but also the narrative context of the Timaeus—needs to be a plenum (of undisclosed, perhaps unfathomable structure), somewhat alike Giordano Bruno’s aethereal plenum.98 It is an inseparable part of the physical world, and its limits are the limits of the universal sphere, once the generation is complete. Although being non-corporeal, it is not an intelligible entity—which in Plato’s terms is  also absolutely divorced from the physical. It is an indivisible, three-dimensional medium that receives nothing from, nor gives anything to the primary bodies. Therefore, the best illustration of the pre-cosmic χώρα is that of ἐκμαγεῖον, not as matter out of which the elements are shaped, but as a characterless recipient of impressions, stirred and constantly remoulded by the properties of the entering traces.99 The merit of this view is that it accommodates both the spatial and stuff-like descriptions of the receptacle—a dichotomy required by the text—while at the same time dismissing the “constitutionalist” interpretations and insisting exclusively on its receiving function. Thus, the Timaean notion of χώρα, albeit being  After, for obvious reasons, disposing of the Einsteinian notions of space-time within non-­ Euclidian framework, Algra (1995, pp.  15–18) identifies three key historical concepts of space. These are a) space as the non-separable extension of the body (Cartesian space); b) as relational framework (Leibnizian space); c) as container in which and through which bodies move (Newtonian space). 96  See Ph. 212a20–21. 97  Pace Taylor (1928, pp. 311–355). 98  Obviously without its constitutive aspect. For Giordano Bruno on space, see Grant (1981, pp. 183–190). 99  Ti. 50c2–3. The metaphor of impressing shapes into a soft surface is also the most persistent one in the text; see 50c5, 50d4, 50d6, 50e8–51a1. Cf. Harte (2010, p. 136). 95

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one of spatial recipient, does not coincide with any of the historical or current concepts of space; Plato’s cosmic receptacle is τὸ ἐν ᾧ of the creation, however not as empty space but as plenum, which is a pure container that receives the eidetic traces, a plastic medium that grants them the possibility to move and to be shaped by the Demiurge into the known elements.

6 Conclusion In conclusion, it would be apposite to synthesize and present succinctly the main results of the investigation in Plato’s understanding of the Timaean cosmogonic principles undertaken in this chapter, i.e., of Necessity and Space. Both throughout history and in the present day, the notion of materiality in the Timaeus has been associated with the ἀνάγκη-χώρα pair, although the second item took precedence in that regard from very early on. As a matter of fact, χώρα has been equated explicitly and repeatedly with Plato’s matter. I attempted above to demonstrate that this interpretation is fundamentally incorrect, and so in two different ways. First, Plato in his metaphysics did not recognize the Aristotelian-cum-­Platonic notion of matter, but that of corporeality instead. Plato’s corporeality was the universe’s auxiliary cause (which had been compelled into cooperation by the intelligent one, i.e., by νοῦς), constituted of the standard four elements, each one of them being itself corporeal, i.e., a body. Second, the concept which Plato in the Timaeus attaches to corporeality—or to what may be anachronistically called his causa materialis—is that of ἀνάγκη, and not of χώρα. Thus, his counterpart of the later notion of ὕλη was ἀνάγκη, i.e., Necessity. Furthermore—which is a point not seldomly overlooked by the critics—ἀνάγκη and χώρα were clearly differentiated by Plato in the Timaeus: while the former was one of the two causes of the dialogue, (Necessity and Intellect), the latter was counted among its three ontological kinds (Being, Becoming, and Space). The most crucial feature of the above difference was that ἀνάγκη represented that out of which, while χώρα that in which the Demiurge fashioned the world. In other words, ἀνάγκη was the material, whereas χώρα

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was the receptacle for both ἀνάγκη and the final product, i.e., the cosmos. Admittedly, χώρα was a novel and obscure concept, regarding whose essence perhaps even Plato himself wavered. Hence, he decided to explicate it first and foremost functionally. To reiterate, χώρα is the cosmic recipient, that in which the creation takes places. Still, the textual evidence indicates that it was not envisioned as empty space, but instead as a full-­fledged entity, as some kind of spatial substrate that accommodates the eidetic traces and enters into interaction with them. Although the portrayal of the Timaean third kind was primarily functional and therefore left many questions concerning its essence and structure open, Plato did emphasise some important points related to its nature. Thus, his χώρα was said to be non-corporeal, eternal, indestructible, uncreated and uncaused, i.e., independent from both the Demiurge and the Forms. It was also utterly characterless, as not to interfere with the properties of the primary bodies that are generated within it. In the end, it is perhaps best pictured as a neutral plenum filled with itself, the recipient and plastic medium that accommodates the world of Becoming, without which the latter would be nowhere and nothing.100

References Adamson, Peter. 2011. Making a Virtue of Necessity: ANANGKÊ in Plato and Plotinus. Etudes Platoniciennes 8: 9–30. Algra, Keimpe. 1995. Concepts of Space in Greek Thought. Leiden: Brill. Archer-Hind, Richard D. 1888. The Timaeus of Plato: Edited with Introduction and Notes. London: Macmillan and Co. Boys-Stones, George R. 2018. Platonist Philosophy 80 BC to AD 250: An Introduction and Collection of Sources in Translation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

 I would like to express my gratitude to Daniel Vázquez and to the anonymous referee for Palgrave Macmillan. Their insightful comments helped me address and hopefully resolve some inaccuracies present in the draft versions of this chapter. This result is part of the PROTEUS project that has received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme (Grant agreement No. 758145). 100

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Brisson, Luc. 1998. Le même et l’autre dans la structure ontologique du Timée de Platon: Un commentaire systématique du Timée de Platon. Sankt Augustin: Academia Verlag. Broadie, Sarah. 2012. Nature and Divinity in Plato’s Timaeus. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Buckels, Christopher. 2016. Making Room for Particulars: Plato’s Receptacle as Space, not Substratum. Apeiron 49 (3): 303–328. Bury, Robert G. 1929. Plato: Timaeus, Critias, Cleitophon, Menexenus, Epistles. Cambridge, Mas.: Harvard University Press. Carone, Gabriela R. 2005. Plato’s Cosmology and Its Ethical Dimensions. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Charlton, William. 1970. Aristotle: Physics Books I and II. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Cherniss, Harold F. 1946. Aristotle’s Criticism of Plato and the Academy. Baltimore: The John Hopkins Press. ———. 1954. A Much-Misread Passage of the Timaeus (Timaeus 49C 7-50 B5). The American Journal of Philology 75: 113–130. Claghorn, George S. 1954. Aristotle’s Criticism of Plato’s ‘Timaeus’. Hague: Martinus Nijhoff. Cornford, Francis M. 1997 [1937]. Plato’s Cosmology: The Timaeus of Plato. Hackett Publishing Company. Dean-Jones, Lesley. 2000. Aristotle’s Understanding of Plato’s Receptacle and Its Significance for Aristotle’s Theory of Familial Resemblance. In Reason and Necessity: Essays on Plato’s Timaeus, ed. M.  R. Wright, 101–112. Swansea: Classical Press of Wales. Dillon, John M. 1996. The Middle Platonists: 80 B.C. to A.D. 220. Ithaca NY: Cornell University Press. Ferrari, Franco. 2022. Introduzione. In Platone: Timeo, testo, traduzione e commento di, ed. Federico M.  Petrucci, xi–cxlviii. Milano: Fondazione Lorenzo Valla. Fronterotta, Francesco. 2014a. Luogo, spazio e sostrato ‘spazio-materiale’ nel Timeo di Platone e nei commenti al Timeo. In Locus-Spatium, eds. Delfina Giovannozzi and Marco Veneziani, 7–42. Firenze: Leo S. Olschki Editore. ———. 2014b. Modello, copia, ricettacolo: monismo, dualismo o triade di principi nel Timeo? Methexis 27: 95–120. Grant, Edward. 1981. Much Ado About Nothing: Theories of Space and Vacuum from the Middle Ages to the Scientific Revolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Gregory, Andrew. 2008. Introduction. In Plato:  Timaeus and Critias, trans. Robin Waterfield, ix–lvii. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Guthrie, William K.C. 1978. A History of Greek Philosophy, Volume V: The Later Plato and the Academy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hager, Fritz-Peter. 1987. Gott und das Böse im antiken Platonismus. Amsterdam and Atlanta: Rodopi. Harte, Verity. 2002. Plato on Parts and Wholes: The Metaphysics of Structure. Oxford: Oxford University Press. ———. 2010. The Receptacle and the Primary Bodies: Something from Nothing? In One Book the Whole Universe: Plato’s Timaeus Today, ed. Richard D. Mohr and Barbara M. Sattler, 131–140. Las Vegas: Parmenides Publishing. Hussey, Edward. 1993. Aristotle: Physics, Book III and IV. Oxford: Oxford Clarendon Press. Ilievski, Viktor. 2013. Soul, Causation and Evil: is Plato’s ψυχή indeed κινήσεως ἁπάσης αἰτία and τῶν πάντων αἰτία? Hermathena 195: 31–54. ———. 2016. Plato’s Theodicy in the Timaeus. Rhizomata 4 (2): 201–224. ———. 2022. The Demiurge and His Place in Plato’s Metaphysics and Cosmology. In Time and Cosmology in Plato and the Platonic Tradition, ed. Daniel Vázquez and Alberto Ross, 44–77. Leiden: Brill. Johansen, Thomas K. 2004. Plato’s Natural Philosophy: A Study of the Timaeus-­ Critias. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kalkavage, Peter. 2001. Plato: Timaeus. Newburyport: Focus Publishing. Miller, Dana R. 2003. The Third Kind in Plato’s Timaeus. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Mohr, Richard D. 2005. God and Forms in Plato. Las Vegas: Parmenides Publishing. Parry, Richard D. 2002. “The Soul in the Laws X and Disorderly Motion in Timaeus.” Ancient Philosophy 22 (2): 289–301. Petrucci, Federico M. 2018. Taurus of Beirut: The Other Side of Middle Platonism. London and New York: Routledge. ———. 2022. Platone: Timeo. Milano: Fondazione Lorenzo Valla. Reydams-Schils, Gretchen. 1999. Demiurge and Providence: Stoic and Platonic Readings of Plato’s Timaeus. Turnhout: Brepols. Van Riel, Gerd. 2021. Matter Does not Matter: On the Status of Bodies in the Timaeus. In Plato’s Timaeus: Proceedings of the Tenth Symposium Platonicum Pragense, ed. Chad Jorgensen, Filip Karfík, and Štepán Špinka, 169–186. Leiden: Brill.

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Sallis, John. 1999. Chorology: On Beginning in Plato’s Timaeus. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press. Sattler, Barbara. 2012. A Likely Account of Necessity: Plato’s Receptacle as a Physical and Metaphysical Foundation of Space. Journal of the History of Philosophy 50 (2): 159–195. Sayre, Kenneth. 2003. The Multilayered Incoherence of Timaeus’ Receptacle. In Plato’s Timaeus as Cultural Icon, ed. Gretchen J.  Reydams-Schils, 60–79. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press. Sorabji, Richard. 1983. Time, Creation and the Continuum: Theories in the Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages. London: Duckworth. Taylor, Alfred E. 1928. A Commentary on Plato’s Timaeus. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Zeyl, Donald J. 2000. Plato: Timaeus. Indianapolis: Hackett. ———. 2010. Visualizing Platonic Space. In One Book the Whole Universe: Plato’s Timaeus Today, ed. Richard D. Mohr and Barbara M. Sattler, 117–130. Las Vegas: Parmenides Publishing.

Index of Passages Cited1

A

Anaxagoras B 4 DK, 137n38 B 6 DK, 138, 139n43 B 8 DK, 137n38 B 11 DK, 139, 139n43 B 12 DK, 138, 139n43 B 15 DK, 137n38 Aristotle De generatione et corruptione 320a2, 181n8 329a13-24, 181n7 329a15, 182n11 329a21-22, 161n19 329a23-24, 182n11 Metaphysics 987b20-21, 180n5 988a11-14, 180n5

Physics 187a17-18, 180n5 191b35-192a25, 181n7 192a6-12, 180n5 192a7, 181n6 192a31-32, 181n8 209b10-11, 180n3 209b11-12, 161n21 209b12, 180n2 209b13-16, 180n4, 181n7 209b15-16, 180 209b16-17, 180 209b35, 180n2 209b35-210a2, 180n5 212a20-21., 206n96 306a17, 170 IV.13. 222b15-29, 42 IV.222a10-17, 42n11

 Note: Page numbers followed by ‘n’ refer to notes.

1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 V. Ilievski et al. (eds.), Plato on Time and the World, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-28198-3

213

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Index of Passages Cited

Aristotle (cont.) IV.222a25-28, 42n12 IV.222b6-7, 42n13 IV.222b7-8, 42n14 IV.222b13-14, 42n13 IV.222b14, 42n15 VI.234b9, 43 VI.263a 14-15, 43 VI.8.239b5-9, 30-32, 43 VIII.8.263a4-b5, 43 H

Hermias In Platonis Phaedrum Scholia 112,1-21, 93n48 120.19-24, 93n48 120.25-121.29, 93n48 Homer Iliad, 51 1.70, 51n8 P

Philoponus De aeternitate mundi contra Proclum XIV.11-28, 180n1 Plato Apology 18b-c, 17n29 19b-c, 17n29 Cratylus 391a1, 44 396b4, 44 396c7, 44 396d3, 44 438b8, 141 438d5-6, 141

Epinomis 980d6-e3, 80n7 Gorgias 465c7-d1, 80n7 523e4, 44 Laws 665b4, 44 678b9, 44 704c8, 181 705c1, 181 712e4, 44 758d4, 44 761c7, 181 821b-d, 17 843e2, 181 849d5, 181 866d7, 44 867a3, 44 867b6, 44 892a2-b2, 82 892a4, 82n9 892a6-7, 82 892a7-b1, 82n10 893c1-2, 204n89 896a5-896b3, 82, 82n10 896b1, 86 896b3, 86 896c1-4, 80n7 944b2, 44 967b6-c1, 81 967b6-c2, 82n10 X.897a, 114n26 XII.965d-e, 112 Letter VII 341c4-d2, 44 Meno 72c6-8, 107 73c9-d2, 107 86a-b, 78n2

  Index of Passages Cited 

Parmenides 127d-128e, 32 128a-b, 3, 32 128e-130a, 32 129a, 132n25 131c-e, 32 131e-132c, 32 132b-c, 32 132c-133a, 32 133a-134e, 32 134e-135c, 32 136a-c, 33 137c-142a, 33 137c4, 37 142b-155e, 33 142b3, 39 142b6-c7, 39 142c8, 39 142c8-155e3, 39 144e5, 37 155e3-157b4, 3 155e3-157b4, 31 155e4, 39 155e4-8, 38 155e4-157a4, 42 155e4-157a5, 38 155e4-157a7, 39 155e4-157b5, 3 155e8-156b1, 39 156b1-c8, 40 156b1-5, 40 156b6-7, 40 156b7-c1, 40 156c1-5, 40 156c1-157b5, 58 156c8-e3, 41, 43 156e3-157a4, 41 157b-159a, 33

159b-160b, 33 160b-163b, 34 160b1-4, 34 163b-164b, 34 164b-165e, 34 165e-166c, 34 Phaedo 69e-77d, 78n2 74a5, 124 78b, 133 78b-80b, 78n2 78d1-e4, 134 79d1-5, 67n39 79e8-80a9, 80n7 81b3-6, 192n46 81c4-6, 192n46 81d9-e2, 192n46 83d4-5, 192n46 86a1-3, 192n46 94b4-94e7, 80n7 102b-107b, 78n2 102d, 145n54 104c, 123n1 110b5-c1, 170n37 Phaedrus 245c-d, 90n40 245c-246a, 78n2, 91 245c5, 88 245c5-246a2, 88 245c9, 86 245d1, 94 245d1-2, 94 246a1, 87, 90 Philebus 54c1-3, 181n9 54c2, 181 Politicus 268d-276e, 191

215

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Index of Passages Cited

Plato (cont.) 269d6-7, 191 269d9, 191 269d9-e1, 191 272a4, 181 273b4, 191 273b4-c2, 192 273b4-6, 189n39 273b5-6, 192 273c1, 192 291b7, 44 Republic 392d1-3, 51n8 412b8-c4, 80n7 472a1, 44 479b10, 6 479b10, 123–147 490 a-b, 67n39 495c9, 204n88 509b9, 36 516a4, 44 516e5, 44 518b-c, 67n39 523a10-b4, 129 523b5-6, 129 523b7, 130 523c-524d, 129 523c4-6, 130 523e3-524e4, 131 530a-b, 17n28 530b8, 17n27 532c7-d1, 193n48 546a2, 83, 94 553a10, 44 584b7, 44 608d-611a, 78n2 611e, 67n39 615d6, 44

621b6, 44 VIII.546a1-4, 113 VIII.546a1-547a5, 116 X.597c7-9, 107n12 X.617b2, 116n30 Sophist 242d4-6, 35 244e2, 112 248e7-249a3, 106 254a9, 204n88 262d, 59 262d1-2, 59n20 263b4, 61n24 263b9, 60n22 Symposium 210e, 135 210e4, 44 212c6, 44 213c1, 44 223b2, 44 Theaetetus 162c3, 44 191c-e, 202n83 203e, 44 Timaeus 19a5, 204 19b, 25n45 22e2, 204 23b8, 204 24c6, 203n85 27a, 16 27c-29d, 61 27d5-28a1, 183 27d5-28a1, 151, 157 27d5-28a4, 163 27d5-28b2, 11 27d5-47e, 151 27d6-28a1, 13n15, 151n1

  Index of Passages Cited 

27d6-28a4, 106 28a, 140 28a-c, 83n13, 94 28a1, 69 28a1-4, 4, 61, 62n26, 163, 197n64 28a1-6, 13 28a3-4, 13n16 28a4, 94, 152n3 28a4-5, 94 28a4-5, 152, 154 28a4-6, 167 28a6-b2, 101, 105 28b7, 81n8, 83 28b7-c2, 54n12 28b7-8, 151 28c4, 194n51 28c5, 194n51 29a2-6, 84 29a6, 94 29b2-c3, 4, 61, 65n32 29b2-3, 71 29c3, 56, 70 29c4-7, 66 29d-47e, 184n21 29d7-e1, 182 29e1-2, 84 29e4, 83n11 29e4-30a1, 94 30a, 189 30a2-6, 155 30a2-6, 184n22, 186n28, 193 30a3-5, 164, 166 30a4-5, 192 30c1, 83n11 30c2-31b3, 103 30c5-6, 105

217

30c6, 163n23 30c7-d1, 163n23 31a2-b3, 106 31a8-b3, 170n37 31b4, 191 31b4-5, 84, 94, 193 31b4-6, 11, 13 31b4-8, 168n33 31b4-32c4, 109, 185n23 31b4-33b1, 167 31b5-6, 168 31b6-c4, 168, 174n46 31b7, 191 32a8, 191 32b8-c4, 113 32c1, 191 32c2-4, 83 32c5-8, 173 32c5-33a6, 164 32c7-8, 164 32c8, 164 33a4, 164 34b-36b, 13n17 34b3-9, 85 34b10-35a1, 78, 80, 82, 95 34b10-37c5, 79 34c1-2, 80 34c2-4, 80 34c4-5, 80, 82n10, 84 35a, 13n17 35a-b, 85 35a1-36b5, 91 35a2-3, 85 36b5, 200n76 36d, 20 36d8-37a2, 85 36d9, 191 36e, 114n26

218 

Index of Passages Cited

Plato (cont.) 36e4-5, 82, 84 36e5-6, 81 36e6, 81, 82n9, 83n11, 84, 94 37a1, 111 37b6-c1, 115 37c3, 203n85 37c6-d1, 109 37c6-d4, 26n46 37c7, 83n11 37d, 61, 66, 70n44 37d1, 111 37d3, 79n3, 111 37d3-7, 110 37d5-6, 111 37d5-7, 12n11, 25 37d6-7, 109 37d7, 111 37e1-4, 19, 23n41 37e3-38b3, 4, 50n6 37e5, 69 37e6-a1, 55 38a1-2, 19n34, 23n41 38a7-8, 23n42, 25 38a9-b3, 50 38b3, 70 38b4-c3, 113 38b6, 12 38b6-7, 13, 79n3, 83, 84 38c2-3, 57n16, 83 38c3, 59 38c3-d6, 115 38c3-6, 113 38c3-39e2, 11 38c4-6, 14n20, 18 38c7-d6, 116 38e2-3, 114, 117 38e3-6, 18n31

38e3-39b2, 114, 115 38e4-5, 14n21 38e5-39a1, 114 39a, 18 39a4-b2, 116 39b2-c5, 18n32, 21n36 39c1-5, 116 39c1-d6, 115 39c5-d2, 15 39c5-d7, 114, 116 39d2-7, 16n26 39d2-7, 114, 116 39d7-e2, 114 39e1-2, 25n44 39e2-40b2, 163n23 39e3-40a2, 107n12 40b5-6, 111 40b8, 22 40b8-c3, 21n38 40c3-4, 10, 15 40c5, 116 40c5-9, 116 41a7-b2, 84 41a7-8, 113 41a-d, 183n18 41b, 13n18 41d-42c, 13n17 41e5, 114 42c5-d1, 185, 186n28 42d5, 114 42e, 183n18 42e5-7, 111 42e8-43a, 167 45b-46c, 185 46a7, 152n3 46c7-d1, 185n27 46c7-d1, 154, 154n6, 157 46d1, 187

  Index of Passages Cited 

46d1-3, 155, 158 46d4, 155, 155n8 46d7-e1, 155, 186n29 46е, 189 46e3-6, 155, 166 46e4, 183n18 46e5-6, 186, 186n28, 192 46e6, 187 46e7-c4, 11n9 47a4-5, 14 47a4-7, 21 47b8, 67 47d2, 67 47e, 182, 187 47e-48a, 186, 187, 189 47e3, 152 47e3-4, 165 47e3-48a7, 188n35 47e3-48b3, 152, 154 47e3-58c, 7 47e3-58c4, 151–175 47e4-5, 154, 183 47e5-48a2, 183, 186n29, 192 48a2-3, 154, 190n41 48a3, 154n6 48a6, 186n29 48a6-7, 157 48a7, 186, 186n30, 187 48a7-b3, 79n3 48b1, 154 48b3, 154 48b3-c2, 152, 155 48b3-4, 154 48b3-5, 164 48b3-5, 168, 174n46 48b5, 161 48b5-6, 155

48c2-e1, 152, 156 48c5-6, 156 48d1-3, 152n4, 156 48d1-4, 159 48d5-6, 156, 163n24 48e-49a, 13n15 48e-53a, 200 48e2, 193 48e2-3, 156, 183 48e2-49a4, 79n3 48e2-49a6, 153, 156–157 48e2-52d1, 153, 156–163 48e4-49a1, 157 49a3, 140 49a3-4, 194n51 49a3-7, 194n51 49a4-6, 194 49a5, 199 49a5-6, 157, 160, 164n25 49a6, 183, 196n60, 203 49a6-49e7, 153, 157–159 49a7, 194n51 49a7-b5, 156, 172 49b-50a, 140 49b2-5, 158 49b2-50a4, 140–145 49b5, 159 49b7-c2, 158 49b7-d3, 194n52 49b8, 141 49c-50a, 195n54, 201 49c2-6, 158 49c6-7, 158 49c7, 141 49c7, 158n14, 159 49c7-d3, 158, 158n14 49d1, 141, 159 49d3-e2, 159

219

220 

Index of Passages Cited

Plato (cont.) 49d4-6, 195n55 49d4-7, 159 49e5-7, 159n17 49e7, 196n59, 203 49e7-8, 195 49e7-50a2, 160 49e7-51b6, 153, 160–162 49e8, 160 50a1-2, 195 50a2-5, 160 50a4-b5, 200, 200n77 50a4-c4, 160 50a6, 200, 203 50b3, 203 50b6, 159n15 50b6, 191, 195 50b6-c2, 165n26 50b6-c6, 142 50b6-7, 195 50b7-c2, 162 50b7-8, 195 50b8-c2, 160 50c1, 162 50c1, e1, e5, 144 50c2, 199, 202 50c2-e1, 161 50c2-3, 199n72, 206n99 50c3, 144 50c5, 161, 206n99 50c6-d4, 183 50c7-d2, 161 50d1, 196, 203 50d3, 196n60, 199, 203 50d4, 161, 206n99 50d4-e1, 161 50d4-e5, 201n81 50d4-5, 162

50d6, 196n59, 203, 206n99 50e1, 144 50e1-4, 161 50e1-51a3, 160 50e4-51a1, 200n77 50e5, 144, 203 50e5-8, 201 50e8, 144, 202 50e8-9, 203 50e8-51a1, 202, 206n99 50e10, 202n84 51a1-3, 161 51a4, 163n24, 199 51a5, 203 51a5-6, 161n21 51a7, 180n2, 191n45, 196, 203 51b1, 196, 197 51b2-6, 198n68 51b6-52d1, 162–163 51c2-4, 162 51d1-2, 162 51d3, 162 51d4-e7, 197n64 51d5-e2, 163 51e, 64n30 51e2-3, 144 51e2-6, 163 51e3, 56n15 51e6-52a4, 163 52a1-8, 183 52a2, 157n11 52a4-5, 159n16 52a6, 203 52a8, 196n60, 197n63, 204 52a8, 196n60, 197n63, 204

  Index of Passages Cited 

52b-c, 197 52b1, 203 52b1, 160, 164n25 52b2, 156, 197 52b3-5, 196n58, 197, 204n89 52b4, 203, 204 52c2-5, 163n24 52c3, 157n11 52c3-5, 196n58 52d2-3, 162 52d2-53b5, 153, 164–167 52d2-55c6, 153, 164–174 52d3, 164n25, 183, 196n60, 204 52d4-e1, 165 52d4-e5, 166 52d4-53a2, 189n38 52d4-53b5, 188n36 52d5, 199 52d6, 165 52e-53a, 189 52e1, 165 52e1-2, 185 52e1-5, 165, 189n38 52e3-5, 205n92 52e5-53a2, 166 53a2, 203n87 53a2-7, 188n36 53a2-8, 166 53a5, 166 53a6, 204 53a8-b2, 185 53b1-2, 167 53b1-4, 186n28 53b1-5, 167 53b4, 144 53b4-5, 86, 185n26

53b5-6, 185 53b5-54e3, 153, 168–169 53b5-55c6, 153, 168–174 53c4-5, 191 53c4-7, 168 53c4-8, 168 53c4-d4, 169n34 53c8-d4, 169 53d4-5, 191 53d7-e5, 191 53e2, 170 54a1-7, 169 54a7, 200n76 54b-d, 141 54b2-5, 170 54b4-5, 169 54b5-d2, 194n52 54c6-d3, 169 54d3-57d6, 153, 169–172 54d5-55a4, 170 54d6, 169 54e2-3, 170 54e3-55a1, 170 55a4-8, 170 55a5, 170 55a8-b3, 170 55ab1-2, 170 55b1, 170 55b3-c4, 170, 194n52 55b6, 170 55b6-8, 170 55b7, 170 55c4-6, 170 55c7-8, 170n37 55c7-d6, 103 55c8-d2, 170n37 55d3-4, 170n37 55d4-6, 170n37

221

222 

Index of Passages Cited

Plato (cont.) 55e1-2, 170 56a3-b2, 170 56a6-7, 171 56b7-c2, 172 56b7-c7, 172 56c-57b, 141 56c3-7, 171 56d1, 171 56d4, 171 56d6-e1, 171 56e1-2, 171 56e7-57a5, 171 57a5-6, 171 57a7-b7, 171 57b7-58c4, 153, 173–174 57c, 166n29 57c1, 204 57c2-3, 172 57c2-6, 198n67 57c3, 198n67, 203, 205n92 57c3-4, 173 57c6, 204n88 57c7, 155 57c7-9, 171 57 d1-5, 171 57e1-6, 158 57e2-3, 174 57e3-5, 174 57e6, 174 58a-b, 206 58a2, 174 58a4-7, 173, 174 58a5, 173 58a7, 204 58a7-b4, 173 58b3, 173n44

58b5, 173n44 58b8, 174 58c1-4, 174 58c5, 171 59a3, 203n87 59c7, 70n43 60b1, 173n44 60b4, 173n44 60c1, 204n88 60c4, 203n87 60e5, 173n44 67b5, 203n87 68e4, 187 68e6-7, 186n29 69a2-5, 190n42 69a6-7, 181 69b2-c7, 167 69b3-4, 186n28 69c, 183n18 71e2-a2, 24n43 72c2, 203n87 73a3, 203n86 75a-c, 190n41 76d6, 187 79b6, 203n87 79d6, 204 80c5, 203n87 82a3, 204 83a4, 204 88d, 198n67 88d-e, 166n29 88d4-e3, 166n29 88d6, 199 89a3, 68n40 92c8, 83n11 Plotinus Enneads II.4.1.1, 180n1

  Index of Passages Cited 

II.4.8-9, 191n45 III.2.2.15-39, 180n1 III.6.13.11-16, 180n1 III.6.13.18, 180n1 III.6.13.29, 180n1 III.6.19.17-18, 180n1 V.1, 36 V.1.8.14-23, 37 V.1.8.23-27, 37 Plutarch De animae procreatione in Timaeo 1012B, 91n42 1014A, 91n42 1014B-D, 180n1 1014E, 86n28, 92 1015E, 86n28 1016A, 91 1016C, 92 1017A-B, 92 Proclus Elements of Theology Proposition 24, 35n7 In Platonis Parmenidem comentaria I.620.18-21-22, 36n8 I.636.3-4, 36n8 I.638.18-19, 36n8 I.639.9-11, 36n8 I.641.1-14, 36 I.710.32-33, 36n8 I.711.26-30, 35n7

223

I.719.32-33, 36n8 II.72.31-722, 24, 36n8 V.1032.13-22, 35 V.1032.23-32, 36 V.1033.6-18, 36 834-844, 180n1 In Platonis Timaeum commentarii I. 279.30-280.7, 90 I. 280.15-18, 90n36 I. 285.20 ff, 90n36 I. 287.18-23, 90n37 I. 384.16-22, 180n1 II. 10.7-9, 180n1 II. 114.33-115.5, 90n38 II. 117.11-14, 90 III. 357.10-13, 162n22 Theologia Platonica I.9. 35.3-4, 36n8 I.10. 45.1-2., 36n8 S

Simplicius, 43 In Aristotelis de Physica Commentarii 1290.21-24, 43 T

Theophrastus A 92 DK, 137n38

Nominum Index1

A

D

Anaxagoras, 137n36, 137n37, 137n38, 138n40, 138n41, 139n42, 139n45, 6, 133–140, 145 Antiochus of Ascalon, 180 Apuleius, 78n1 Aristotle, 7, 27, 28, 31, 42–44, 49n5, 70n44, 78n1, 127, 180–182, 180n3, 181n6, 181n7, 182n11, 182n12, 190, 192, 198, 204 Atticus, 78n1

Descartes, 206 E

Empedocles, 139 Eudorus of Alexandria, 78n1 G

Giordano Bruno, 206, 206n98 Glaucon, 129 H

C

Crantor, 78n1 Cratylus, 195

Harpocration, 78n1 Heraclides Ponticus, 78n1 Heraclitus, 6, 145n54, 194

 Note: Page numbers followed by ‘n’ refer to notes.

1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 V. Ilievski et al. (eds.), Plato on Time and the World, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-28198-3

225

226 

Nominum Index

Hermias, 93n48 Homer, 83

Porphyry, 78n1 Proclus, 35–37, 78n1, 89–92, 90n38, 90n39, 180n1

N

Newton, 206 Numenius, 78n1 P

Parmenides, 3, 31–39, 41, 43–44, 59, 125, 136, 137 Philoponus, 180n1 Plato, 1–6, 8–28, 31–44, 47–71, 77–96, 101–119, 123–147, 151, 169n36, 170n37, 174n46, 179–198, 182n11, 182n12, 187n30, 190n43, 191n44, 192n46, 193n48, 194n52, 196n56, 196n57, 196n59, 197n62, 200–208, 204n88, 205n94 Plotinus, 35–38, 78n1, 180n1, 184n19, 191n44 Plutarch, 78n1, 91, 91n42, 92, 174n46, 180n1

S

Severus, 78n1 Socrates, 17, 32, 37, 38, 123n1, 129, 130, 134n29, 139n45, 141 Speusippus, 78n1 T

Taurus, 78n1 Theaetetus, 60–61, 70n44 Theophrastus, 137n38 Timaeus Locrus, 180n1 X

Xenocrates, 78n1 Xenophanes, 35 Z

Zeno, 3, 31–33, 36, 38, 43, 44