Luke Morris
9/21/2003
Parmenides and Formal Dualism
Many people today may take for granted a dualistic understanding of the universe that distinguishes the world of the mind from that of the body, or the nature of a thing from its physical equivalent, but such an idea was far from clear in ancient Greece, and indeed not until Plato did anyone propose an explicit division of the two worlds. Several pre-Socratic philosophers examined variations on this view of the universe, however. No one before Plato, though, presented the idea in a clearer fashion than did Parmenides, who distinguished the form, or nature, of the world apart from its material substance many years before Plato elaborated on it. Yet Parmenides presented a monistic theory that held that existence itself, or “being,” is all one, as opposed to Plato’s later plurality of “the Forms.” Upon reading this in light of his other passages, though, one sees that Parmenides also must clearly be referring to the form, or the essential nature, of “what is,” and not merely making a statement about the material stuff of the world. Thus, when the philosopher claims that one cannot know the non-existent, that something must exist to be conceived, that being itself is eternal, and that existence as such is still spatially finite, he speaks only of the world in terms of form, not of physical substance.
Parmenides first implies that he is talking about the form, or nature, of existence when he postulates that no one can conceive of what does not exist. “[2] You could not know what is not,” he says, “nor could you indicate it.” In other words, as the traditional interpretation has it, one cannot even conceive of things that do not exist. This conclusion certainly holds true when applied to things like colors, for who could imagine a color that does not exist? We also would find it impossible to conceive a contradictory concept such as a round square. One may raise the objection, however, that we still do imagine things that do not exist, such as fairies and dragons, and therefore Parmenides’ assertion proves untrue in many cases. Yet, if we take the thinker to be talking about the form of existence, as opposed to its material makeup, then we may see his thesis as perfectly justified. If we look at the idea of a dragon, for instance, we see nothing but a combination of recognizable forms, such as the lizard-likeness of the body, the blades of its scales, its bird-like wings, and its fiery breath, all of which we can trace to the real world, which makes the dragon nothing but an imaginary blend of real forms. In short, nothing can cross into the realm of human comprehension except as the form, or essence, of an existent object, or as a combination of such forms as, however unique, still may translate to other human minds. But how can such a plurality fit into a belief that all is one? Only by using “the One” as a common thread which unites all things in all worlds, conceptual and physical – the thread of being itself.
In order to support his claim that “being” is all that there is, Parmenides adds that when one conceives of something, that object of conception must necessarily exist, for “[3] The same thing is there to be thought of and to be.” This means that anything that we can think of exists in some way, materially or otherwise. The nature, or essence, of a thing exists as a concept in our minds, regardless of whether we can point to its physical equivalent, for, as Parmenides says, “[6] What is there to be said and thought needs must be.” Thus, when we think of something, it follows that that thing is, and cannot not be. While this may make little sense as regards the imagination of dragons and fairies, it is perfectly reasonable if we consider that such imaginary concepts exist as well, if only in the mind, and therefore their forms fit into the category of “what is.” This interpretation, of course, reduces the argument to a bit of a tautology, along the lines of, “you cannot think of what cannot be thought.” The claim, however, still holds true, as he further proposes that, “[8] To think is the same as the thought that it is; for you will not find thinking without being to which it refers.” In light of this argument, we can see that Parmenides considers thoughts as things, and thus his assertion that they share existence with physical matter becomes perfectly rational.
Parmenides then moves from an argument for an existing plurality of things (forms) that are part of the One, to a description of the nature of existence itself as a totality. “[8] Being has no coming-into-being and no destruction,” he declares, “for it is whole of limb, without motion, and without end.” He thus argues that being, or “what is,” is a unified whole encompassing everything, a necessarily eternal presence. In this regard, existence must be a unity, “a whole all together, one, continuous.” This is where we first encounter a difficulty in attempting to interpret Parmenides’ thought in terms of pure form, for, if existence itself is eternal and all-encompassing, then it may be a property of all that is, though the philosopher simultaneously argues that being is all that is, and not merely a property of it. But if it is such a property, we must determine whether it relates to form as such, or merely to physical matter. Yet Parmenides seems not to prescribe a pure materialism, since he speaks of such things as Love and Truth in the abstract; and by abstracting he shows us that he speaks of the nature of “what is” above and beyond its material contents. Indeed, he abstracts from the physical in taking the time to talk of “being” at all. We therefore cannot hold that Parmenides’ concept of the One unifies all matter, nor that existence is itself only one property of things; rather, we must construe “being” as the essence of all that is, that one thing that all things share. In other words, all that is, is.
Now, though, the philosopher presents us with a real problem, as he takes his abstraction of existence and attempts to apply it to the material world, even to the point of giving it spatial boundaries. For how can being, or “all that is,” be constrained by boundary? Yet Parmenides claims that, “[8] powerful necessity holds it in the bonds of a limit, which constrains it round about, because it is decreed by divine law that being shall not be without boundary.” But if being is all that is, and yet it is still limited, then what is “divine law” and how does it stand outside of existence? Parmenides answers that this law is the force that holds being equal in all parts, motionless and indivisible. Thus, spatial limits define existence, giving a logical form to the nature of what is. Everything within this “well-rounded sphere” of being is therefore equal to everything else within, because all things, material or otherwise, contain and are a part of this unity of existence. As Parmenides says, being “is all alike,” to which he adds, “Nor is there anything there which could prevent it from holding together, nor any lesser thing, but all is full of being.” In other words, as stated before, all that exists, exists; that is, each thing resides within the limits of this defined sphere that we call “being” as much as every other thing does. To say that this concept relates only to the material stuff of the universe, then, would be absurd, even with the imposition of spatial bounds, since such an assumption would amount to saying that all physical objects are exactly the same. Parmenides makes much more sense if we take him to mean that all things in the world, whether real, imagined, or abstracted, hold in common the fact of their existence. Then we can agree with him that, “nothing else either is or shall be except being.”
Parmenides’ theories and arguments prove difficult to interpret, and no doubt provoke debate among scholars even to this day. Yet this fact alone points to how important his radical conception of the world is, and how influential his ideas have been throughout the course of history. For, though he does not explicitly posit a metaphysical dualism, he nevertheless sows the seeds for the growth of Platonic thought by implying that the nature, or form, of things resides outside the physical realm. His conception of being as eternal gives rise to Plato’s eternal Forms, the most explicit statement in Greek thought of a dualistic universe. Parmenides’ arguments in themselves, though, elicit questions to which we may only guess the answers. That we cannot conceive of what is not seems simple enough if we acknowledge that thoughts are things, but this claim becomes complicated if we reject this premise and attempt to wrap a tighter leash around existence. Then, though we may accept his definition of “being” as an eternal whole, we face a problem when we confront the limits he places on it. Does he mean that all physical matter is exactly one and the same throughout? Or can he still be referring to the form, or nature, of reality, within external limits as imposed by some other “divine law?” This last issue becomes particularly hard to reconcile, but when we take it in the context of his arguments as a whole, it might follow a consistent line of thinking – that being is all that there is, and nothing is without it, and therefore it must be constrained within the finite, defined bounds of existence. This depends, however, on how we interpret Parmenides, and not on what he actually said. To interpret him in terms of form allows his thesis to make more sense; for, as we see it today through post-Socratic eyes, thinking of Parmenides as an early dualist makes his argument more rational and in tune with our experience. Still, as for what he might actually have meant, who can know? We may only make the most we can out of the little pieces of his thought that we have, and strive to see how this interpretation fits into our thinking today.
Source:
Baird, Forrest E. and Kaufmann, Walter: Ancient Philosophy. Vol. 1, 4th edition. 2003, Prentice Hall, New Jersey. p. 19-23.