Plato

by Roy Jackson

  The universe and its natural state

  In modern cosmogony – the model of how the universe came into existence – there is much speculation as to whether the universe could have existed in any other state than it actually is. The anthropic principle, or Goldilocks enigma, suggests that the universe’s physical laws are ‘just right’ for the existence of life on Earth and, indeed, for the universe to exist at all. Just the tiniest of changes in certain parameters and the universe would have collapsed in on itself long ago or, at best be unimaginably different from what it is. This leads to the conclusion that either these physical laws must exist for a universe to exist, or that there are many universes, each with different physical laws.

  For Plato, however, there is only one universe, and the ‘stuff’ of the universe, or ‘chaos’, does not – as the name suggests – have any inherent order at all; the demiurge imposes order upon it. This differs from Aristotle’s cosmogony, which pictures a universe that has always existed with an inherent order. In his Metaphysics, when Aristotle talks of the gods in the plural sense he seems to mean the more anthropomorphic characters that colour Greek myth. However, when he refers to God in the singular he means something very different. This God exists necessarily; he does not depend on anything else for his existence. He never changes or has any potential to change and he has no beginning or end. This eternal being is also immaterial, for if He were to be made up of any kind of matter He could not then be immutable. As God is immutable He cannot engage in any kind of physical, bodily action for there is no ‘body’ or movement.

  What, then, does God do? God is pure intellect; His activity is theoria. What, then, does God contemplate upon? God could not think about anything which could cause Him to change or be affected in any way, so this leaves out the material world. Aristotle states in his Metaphysics that God only contemplates upon himself, God is ‘thought of thought’. God knows only Himself and is not affected by the material world in any way and nor does it impose order upon the world. For Aristotle, purpose – teleology – is within nature already whereas, for Plato, the demiurge is what has purpose.

  The creation of the cosmos by gods from the chaos may seem similar to Hesiod’s Theogony (see Chapter 1), but Hesiod’s gods seem more capricious, whereas Plato’s gods follow the principles of reason and order.

  The cosmos as animate

  ‘The appropriate shape, for the living being that was to contain all living beings within itself, would be the one that includes all shapes within itself. And so he made it perfect spherical, equidistant in all directions from its centre to its extremes, because there is no shape more perfect and none more similar to itself.’

  Plato, Timaeus, 33b

  Plato conceives of the world as organic, a perfectly spherical animal. It has no eyes nor ears because it does not need them, nor does it need any organs as it is entirely self-sufficient. It has no limbs because it does not need hands to defend itself nor feet to walk upon. This sphere is, in fact, perfectly smooth and a sphere is the most natural shape for such an animal to be. Therefore, while it certainly looks very different from any other animal, the world nonetheless possesses a soul, like all other living creatures. And, like other souls, it contains three parts (see Chapter 5): the rational, appetitive and spirited. The world-animal, therefore, is as perfect as any material thing can be, in that the rational part of the soul controls the other parts of the soul but, nonetheless, the ‘lower’ part of the soul does exist, hence the world’s imperfections.

  The demiurge, by necessity, can only do what is good, and so there is only one world because the demiurge could only create the best world. To create any other worlds is to create either better or worse worlds as there can only be one best world. The soul resides at the centre of the world but, nonetheless, diffuses throughout the world. This world does, of course, contain many living things, all of which possess their own soul, but these should not be seen as entirely separate from the world soul. Rather, they are interrelated. In a sense the world is an ecosystem of one living thing with component parts.

  The origins of man

  Many of the Presocratics speculated on how the creatures that we know today came about. Empedocles (c. 490–c. 430 BC), for example, considered it to be entirely by chance when various parts of the body wandered about and joined up by random. As he describes it: ‘Here many heads sprang up without necks, mere arms were wandering around without shoulders, and single eyes, lacking foreheads, roamed around.’

  Why does Plato present the world as animate given what some of the Presocratics had previously said? For example, Anaxagoras said that celestial bodies are just hot stones, and it was not uncommon for other Presocratics to see planets and stars as purely physical as opposed to animal. Plato’s reasoning for this comes back to his need to attribute meaning to the universe for he believed that purely physical things can only be explained in a physical manner, whereas animate or ‘intelligible’ things can likewise be explained in an intelligible manner. It’s rather like the difference between explaining what a chair is compared with a particular person: a chair can be fully explained and understood using mathematical equations, but the same cannot be said for a particular human being.

  The world soul is also a god, as are all the other celestial bodies in the heavens. They all have souls, and are intelligent, but they are largely circumscribed in terms of what they do and think:

  ‘He [the demiurge] endowed each of the gods with two kinds of motion: even rotation in the same place, to enable them always to think the same thoughts about the same things; and forward motion, under the sovereignty of the revolution of identity and sameness. But with respect to the other five kinds of motion, they were to be stable and unmoving, so that each of them might be, to the fullest extent, as perfect as possible. And so all the fixed stars were created as divine, ever-living beings, spinning evenly and unerringly for ever.’

  Plato, Timaeus, 40a

  The ‘soul’, therefore, is better understood in the Latin sense of anima: that which animates the physical. The celestial bodies, their souls being controlled by the rational part, also do what is good for the sake of the cosmos as a whole. In other words, the cosmos is not ethically neutral but purposeful and good. While there are geometrical laws to follow, the universe could choose to not follow them. However, like the Philosopher-Kings who, when they know what is good will be compelled to do good, the celestial bodies do likewise. This is why the universe is ordered and regular; not because of the inherent nature of the physical world or as a result of a set of mathematical equations, but because the celestial gods act according to what is best and rational for the universe.

  The Great Chain of Being

  In 1936, the American philosopher Arthur Lovejoy (1873–1962) published The Great Chain of Being in which he explores the notion, going back to Plato, but existing throughout Western philosophical history, of a world in which all living beings are related to each other in a hierarchical chain.

  Plato, in Timaeus, portrays the demiurge creating the world, but it is this world god that then goes on to create other living beings, beginning with human beings, then animals, then plants. Each creation is an imitation of its creator, but at each stage of copying there are more imperfections, so the Earth is less perfect than the demiurge, humans are less perfect than the Earth god, animals less perfect than humans, and so on. Hence we have this hierarchy or ‘chain of being’ from the most perfect to the imperfect. Whereas humans are, therefore, to some extent removed from perfection, they do also partake in it and this idea that we are in some way connected in this ‘chain’ proved to be a huge influence on future philosophy, especially Neoplatonism (see Chapter 13).

  Alfred North Whitehead and process philosophy

  The British philosopher and mathematician A. N. Whitehead (1861–1947) famously declared that European philosophy is but ‘a series of footnotes to Plato’ (see Chapter 3). Certainly, Whitehead’s own philosophy was heavily influenced by Plato’s wri
tings, especially Timaeus. It was, in fact, during the 1927–8 Gifford lectures that Whitehead, looking to Timaeus, asserted that Plato’s philosophy is a form of organicism. In Whitehead’s work Process and Reality (1929), he radically argued that reality consists of processes, rather than simply physical objects. What he means by this is, in a very Platonic way (at least in Timaeus), that matter is not a static thing but constantly changing or flowing. While we like to label things, to give them an ‘essence’ (partly as a result of the limitations of language), in reality there are not enduring ’things’ as such, but a ‘society’ of events and ‘occasions of experience’ (Whitehead, Process and Reality, New York: Free Press, 1979, p. 34). Whitehead moves away from a mechanistic view of the universe, to one of interconnectedness and creativity. For example, a tree does not merely grow independently of other things in a fixed and predictable manner, but develops in response to the existence of other entities. This notion of interconnectedness and processes similarly applies to God, seen by Whitehead as not separate from existence and unaffected by it, but interacts with the universe to the extent that God not only changes the universe but is changed by it. Whitehead’s process philosophy has thus been developed into what is called process theology, most notably by the American philosophers Charles Hartshorne (1897–2000) and John B. Cobb (b. 1925); the latter famous for his works on ecological interdependence in which he states that we have a duty to preserve our world because of this interdependence. Such views stem directly from Whitehead, who argued for what he called ‘world-loyalty’ (Whitehead, Religion in the Making, New York: Fordham University Press, 1996, p. 60).

  Being ethical

  In Timaeus, Plato to some extent bridges the gap between the material world and the ‘spiritual’, or the world of the Forms. In Republic, you may recall, it is not always clear what the relation is between these two seemingly diverse realms. The world of matter, if anything, is nothing more than an illusion and, in fact, acts as an obstruction and distraction from the ‘real’ world of the Forms, as suggested in, especially, the cave analogy. However, as we saw in Chapter 7, the simile of the Divided Line suggests a closer link between the material and the non-material.

  However, the human being portrayed in Timaeus is a microcosm of the cosmos and, therefore, can learn by embracing the created world, rather than to subtract himself from it. This world that we live in contains, if you like, patterns of ethical conduct, if we are only prepared to perceive them. Whereas in Republic, the Forms are the objects of knowledge, in Timaeus this is no longer the case, at least in not such an obvious manner. We can learn how to be good by reading what is in the heavens and, indeed, in Theaetetus, Socrates says that philosophers spend their time ‘searching the heavens’. The good life is effectively being at one with nature. What is also interesting here is that, unlike Republic, the worldview presented in Timaeus seems less elitist: reason is still very important if one is to have your soul correspond with the world-soul, but as we are all the creation of the Earth god and we all therefore contain a ‘spark’ of perfection within us, then it is quite possible for salvation to be within the reach of all of us, not just philosophers; although we need to add the caveat that no doubt rigorous philosophical training can help towards this perfection.

  However, whereas the Earth god is unhindered by senses or the need to engage in motion (other than those already mentioned), it is less distracted than humans. Our lives are constantly bombarded by sensations and our task is to try to control these and give them order as best we can if we are to live good and just lives. The body is important, but – like in Republic – it is the mind that is most essential for our salvation:

  ‘When a man is caught up in his appetites or his ambitions and devotes all his energies to them, the mental processes that go on inside him are bound to be restricted entirely to mortal beliefs, and he himself is bound to be completely and utterly mortal as a man can be, since that is the part of himself that he has reinforced. But anyone who has devoted himself to learning and has genuinely applied his intelligence – which is to say, anyone who has primarily exercised his intellect – cannot fail to attain immortal, divine wisdom, if the truth should come within his grasp.’

  Plato, Timaeus, 90b

  What Timaeus shows us is that it can be inaccurate to describe Plato as a rationalist in the modern sense of the term; as a philosopher who has no time for empiricism or for the value of the senses. What is obvious from Timaeus is that, as human beings, it is vitally important for our knowledge of the world and, indeed, consequently for our very salvation, to use our senses and to see the world around us: to look at the stars above and their motions, to seek patterns, beauty and order in nature and to imitate these in our own lives.

  Key terms

  Anthropic principle: Also known as the Goldilocks Enigma from the Goldilocks and the Three Bears tale. It is the idea that the universe is ‘just right’ for the existence of life on Earth.

  Demiurge: Literally translates as ‘craftsman’ and is a reference to a divine craftsman.

  Ex nihilo: Latin for ‘out of nothing’; it is particularly used with reference to creation of the universe.

  Organicism: The view that the cosmos is organic: a living thing, and not just inanimate matter.

  Dig deeper

  Davies, P. (2007), The Goldilocks Enigma: Why is the Universe Just Right for Life? London: Penguin.

  Waterfield, R. (trans.) (2008), Plato: Timaeus and Critias. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

  Whitehead, A. N. (1978), Process and Reality. New York: The Free Press.

  Whitehead, A. N. (2011), Religion in the Making. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

  Fact check

  1 Is Plato’s dialogue Timaeus generally considered to be…?

  a … one of his early works

  b … from his middle period

  c … one of his later works

  d … unknown

  2 Which one of these works by Plato was regarded as the most influential during the Middle Ages in Europe?

  a Timaeus

  b Republic

  c Critias

  d Gorgias

  3 Which of the following is a definition of organicism?

  a Food produced without the use of chemicals

  b The view that the cosmos is organic

  c The view that the cosmos has organs

  d The view that the cosmos is like a machine

  4 Which of the following is a definition of demiurge?

  a A divine craftsman

  b A minor god

  c The cosmos

  d The Earth

  5 What is the Latin term used to state that the universe was created ‘out of nothing’?

  a ex materia

  b ex deo

  c ex nihilo

  d via negativa

  6 What is the term used to argue for the universe as having purpose?

  a Teleological

  b Ecological

  c Biological

  d Ontological

  7 Which philosopher came up with the concept of the ‘great chain of being’?

  a James Lovelock

  b Bertrand Russell

  c Alfred North Whitehead

  d Arthur Lovejoy

  8 How does Timaeus describe the Earth?

  a As a perfectly spherical animal

  b As a geometrical circle

  c As a hot stone

  d As the demiurge

  9 How, as human beings, can we learn how to be good, according to Timaeus?

  a By retreating to a cave

  b By looking to the heavens

  c By following the laws of the state

  d By following Socrates

  10 Aside from Timaeus and Socrates, which one of the following characters also appears in the dialogue Timaeus?

  a Lysis

  b Gorgias

  c Plato

  d Critias

  12

  The war between philosophy and poetry and the Myth of Er
/>
  Chapters 4 to 7 explored various themes in Plato’s Republic, before we then went on an excursion to other dialogues and other themes. I now want to bring us back to Republic, to the final book: Book X. Book IX of Republic seems to bring us to a natural end of the dialogue. Socrates (591e–592b) states that the role of the philosopher is to look at the regime within himself. It is the soul of the philosopher that is the ‘just city’, not an external thing, for ‘it makes no difference whether it [the just city] actually exists anywhere or will exist’ (Plato, Republic, 592b). It seems then that the ultimate intention of Plato’s Republic is not, after all, to create an actual perfect state on Earth, but rather an ‘internal polis’: what it means to be a fully human being. When seen this way, Plato’s political philosophy, the accusations of totalitarianism and what have you, can be seen as more metaphorical than literal. What is most important is what this tells us about ourselves. Given such a quite satisfying conclusion, it is somewhat grating to many scholars to then see the addition of Book X of Republic, the final chapter.

  Book X, in fact, seems to have been written at a later date and it does not fit well with what was written in the rest of Republic in that it contradicts some of the previous views and, on the whole, is not as philosophically rigorous. Given this, it is puzzling as to why Plato – who seems so skilled in literary prowess – should add this extra chapter, other than perhaps he felt the need to tidy up some loose ends with an ‘appendix’.