(Plato, Parmenides (Greek and English) PDF

Plato’s Parmenides
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Plato’s Parmenides
Text, Translation & Introductory Essay
Arnold Hermann
Translation in collaboration with

Sylvana Chrysakopoulou
Foreword by
Douglas Hedley
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Plato.
[Parmenides. English & Greek]
Plato’s Parmenides : text, translation & introductory essay / [edited and translated by]
Arnold Hermann ; translation in collaboration with Sylvana Chrysakopoulou ; with a
foreword by Douglas Hedley.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-1-930972-71-1 (hard cover) – ISBN 978-1-930972-20-9 (pbk.) –
ISBN 978-1-930972-60-5 (e-book)
1. One (The One in philosophy) 2. Form (Philosophy) 3. Parmenides. I. Hermann,
Arnold. II. Chrysakopoulou, Sylvana. III. Title.
B378.A5H47 2010
184–dc22
2010004145
Greek text reprinted by permission of the publishers and the Trustees of the Loeb
Classical Library from PLATO: VOLUME IV, Loeb Classical Library Volume
167, translated by H. N. Fowler, 1926, pp. 198–330, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard
University Press, Copyright © 1926 by the President and Fellows of Harvard
College. The Loeb Classical Library ® is a registered trademark of the President
and Fellows of Harvard College.
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Contents
Foreword: The Legacy of the Parmenides vii

Preface and Acknowledgements xix
THE PARMENIDES: A N INTRODUCTORY ESSAY FOR R EADERS

AND INTERPRETERS 1
The Uniqueness of the Parmenides Dialogue 3
Format, Setting, Characters, Timeline, and Motive 7
Sensibles and Intelligibles 17
The Being of One 29
The Eight Arguments plus Coda: Results of the Survey 41
Separation and Interweaving—Tentative Solutions for Interpreting
the Second Part 55
TEXT AND TRANSLATION 73

First Argument 107
Parts/Whole; Limited/Unlimited; No Shape; Neither In Itself, Nor In
Another–Nowhere; Motion/Rest; Same/Different; Like/Unlike; Equal/
Unequal; Time–Older, Younger, Same Age; Conclusion
Second Argument 127

Parts/Whole–One/Many; Difference/Otherness; Generation Of Numbers;
Limited/Unlimited–Compresence Of One And Being; Shape–Beginning,
Middle, End; In Itself/In Another; Motion/Rest; Same/Different; Like/Unlike;
In Contact/Not In Contact; Equal/Unequal–Largeness/Smallness
v
Coda 161
Time–Older, Younger, Same Age; Conclusion: Results Of Arguments I And
II; Coming-To-Be/Ceasing-To-Be; The Instant; Passing Through Neither/Nor
Third Argument 179

Part/Whole; Limited/Unlimited; Likeness/Unlikeness; All Qualifications
Fourth Argument 187

Others Lack Oneness; Final Conclusion: ‘If One Is’
Fifth Argument 193

Difference; Like/Unlike; Equal/Unequal; Being/Not-Being; Motion/Rest;
Altered/Not Altered
Sixth Argument 205

Absence Of Being; No Change, Movement, Rest, Or Other Qualifications;
No Relations
Seventh Argument 209

Other Than Each Other; Doxa
Eighth Argument 215

No Qualifications; Final Conclusion
Bibliography 219
Index Locorum 235
General Index 241
Foreword: The Legacy of the Parmenides
by Douglas Hedley
. . . frequently all things appear little . . . the universe itself—

what but an immense heap of little things? . . . My mind feels
as if it ached to behold & know something great—something
one & indivisible.1
—S. T. Coleridge
Why should we read Plato’s Parmenides today? It does not possess the
dramatic charm of the Symposium or the Phaedrus, the somber power
of the Phaedo or the Apology, or the evident relevance to contemporary
concerns of the Theaetetus or the Republic. It is, furthermore, a deeply
puzzling and aporetic dialogue—a reductio ad absurdum of Eleatic
thought in which some of the most paradigmatic Platonic tenets are
challenged and problems are left unresolved. The twentieth-century
interpretations of Ryle, Owen, and Vlastos have reinforced an ancient
view of the dialogue as a set of logical exercises in dialectic or a “dia-
lectical business” (negotium dialecticum).2 In this essay, however, I wish
to reflect upon that most vigorous strand in occidental culture that has
maintained that the Parmenides of Plato is perhaps the pivotal document
of Western metaphysics. The legacy of Parmenides of Elea as interpreted
by Plato is of momentous significance for the history of thought, even
if we accept the merits of the exercise theory as a reading of the text.
The questions of the Parmenides, which deal with the central issues
of Platonic metaphysics such as the one and the many, parts and wholes,
1 Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Collected Letters, edited by Earl Leslie Grigg

(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1956), I § 209.
2 Gilbert Ryle, Collected Papers, Vol. 1 (London: Hutchinson, 1971), 1–44; G.
E. L. Owen, Logic, Science and Dialectic: Collected Papers in Greek Philosophy,
edited by Martha Nussbaum (Ithaca, 1986); Gregory Vlastos, Platonic
Studies (1973).
vii
viii Plato’s Parmenides
the scope of ideas, the idea of participation, and the exact relation
between material items and immaterial forms, present a locus classicus
of metaphysical speculation. The question of unity is one of the core
metaphysical questions. Is the universe primarily a unity or a plurality?
(It is significant that we use the language of a universe.)
Science operates with fundamental constants that remain identical
throughout time and space (for example, the atomic mass of oxygen).
We presuppose uniformity in order to explain the universe, a fact that
is puzzling when we assume that the cosmos is a radical plurality. If the
universe evolves and declines, is about 14 billion years old and is subject
to entropy up to its future demise, it is puzzling that scientific laws
should be thought of as eternal verities. Perhaps such ‘laws’ are in reality
approximations of laws which help us to operate in the world but not
grasp its real nature. It is striking that David Hume’s radical empiricism
and agnosticism regarding our capacity to perceive real connections
in nature led to his profound skepticism on such basic issues as causa-
tion or induction. Perhaps the moral of Hume’s untenable skepticism
is that without presupposing an underlying metaphysical unity in the
universe, we have no noncircular empirical reasons to expect uniformity
or law-like structures. The relation of the One and the Many is lying
behind some of the most fundamental questions concerning the mind
and the world and the structure of the physical world.
Astrophysicists since the sixties of the last century have reflected
upon the vast improbability of the emergence of intelligent life and
the ‘fine tuning’ of the universe for life. The astronomer Fred Hoyle
strikingly asserted that the statistical chance of the emergence of
life was less than the fluke construction of a Boeing 747 by a hur-
ricane passing through a scrap-yard! He was referring to the very
narrow parameters within which life can emerge. The initial condi-
tions required to produce carbon in order for life to be possible; the
remarkable coincidence of factors that permitted life to evolve seems
prima facie highly improbable. Why has the universe turned out to be
so harmonious and opportune for life? The British Astronomer Royal,
Sir Martin Rees invokes the idea of a ‘multiverse,’ an infinite number
of possible universes, as an explanation of why this world has exactly
the highly improbable features conducive to life, to avoid invoking the
idea of a unifying transcendent creator. But many thinkers have been
impressed by the idea of a supreme source of unity and harmony—the
idea expressed beautifully by Dante as the unifying force of the Divine
Intellect unfolding its goodness “multiplied through the stars, itself
wheeling on its own unity”:
Foreword: The Legacy of the Parmenides ix
Così l’intelligenza sua bontate

Multiplicata per le stelle spiega,
girando sé sovra sua unitate 3
Consider evolutionary biology. Harvard paleontologist Stephen Jay

Gould uses Darwin against Plato in insisting upon “unpredictability and
contingency.” He observes, “in Plato’s world, variation is accidental, while
essences record a higher reality; in Darwin’s reversal, we value variation
as a defining (and concrete earthly) reality, while averages (our closest
operational approach to ‘essences’) become mental abstractions.”4 Across
the Atlantic, Simon Conway Morris, professor of evolutionary paleobiol-
ogy at Cambridge, argues that it is a convergence of different paths toward
intelligence, rather than contingency, that distinguishes the evolutionary
evidence. Conway Morris and Gould are working in the same domain
of paleobiology, yet Conway Morris emphasizes the simplicity of the
basic materials and laws as well as the elegance and “sensitivity” of the
complex processes that generate sentient life. He sees inevitability in this
evolutionary process. Atheism, in his view, commits us to completely
improbable coincidences that conflict with “life’s almost eerie ability to
navigate to the correct solution, repeatedly.”5 The disagreement between
these distinguished paleobiologists is a debate about data and theology.
But it is also a debate about the One and the Many.
This debate concerning the One and the Many is rooted in Eleatic
thought, predating both Plato and Aristotle. It is a part of the tradition of
those Presocratic philosophers who present theology in the Greek sense as
an attempt to explain reality in terms of a supreme principle. Parmenides
and Heraclitus were founding figures of European metaphysics, but they
were also demythologizers of the brute plurality of warring and scheming
deities of Greek mythology and popular piety. The poem of Parmenides
presents an opposition between truth and appearance. Language and the
senses are presented as inadequate to obtain knowledge of true Being.
This Eleatic monism presents Being in opposition to Becoming. Motion,
time, and plurality are contrasted with the reality of Unitary being.
Plato was clearly deeply impressed by Parmenides, and in Theaetetus
3 Dante, The Divine Comedy 3 Paradiso, Italian text with translation and com-
ment by John D. Sinclair (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1939), 38–39.
4 Stephen Jay Gould, Full House: The Spread of Excellence from Plato to Darwin
(New York: Harmony Books, 1996), 41.
5 Simon Conway Morris, Life’s Solution: Inevitable Humans in a Lonely Universe
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), frontispiece.
x Plato’s Parmenides
183 we have a reference to Parmenides as “venerable and awesome.”

In contemporary thought, Richard Rorty’s Philosophy and the Mirror
of Nature criticizes the Parmenidean-Platonic ideal of moving beyond
appearances to the intrinsic reality of the world of Being. In the wake
of Nietzsche and Heidegger, Rorty sees the contrast between the realm
of appearances and true being as a baneful legacy. The transcendental
and foundational drive of Platonism savaged by Nietzsche is diagnosed
by Heidegger as the source of mankind’s forgetfulness of Being and the
insatiable and destructive obsession with technological mastery. Being was
reified as a result of Plato’s ocular image of knowledge as the perception
of form (eidos). This fateful construal of knowledge as vision ushered in
the metaphysics of the Christian era that identified the supreme object
of Being as God: esse ipsum.
The Eleatic Legacy within Platonism

The Fall of Constantinople in 1453 and the transmission of Greek
manuscripts to Western libraries, both preceding and in the wake
of the Turkish conquest, triggered a rediscovery of Plato in Greek.
Marsilio Ficino recognized the Platonic core of much of the scholastic
inheritance, and views St. Thomas as an ally for, not as an enemy
to, his own Platonic cause. Indeed, the tradition of Neoplatonism
remained continuous, and the influence of the Platonic Parmenides
was greatest in the early medieval period from John Scot Eriugena
(810–877 ad) to Meister Eckhart (1260–1327 ad) and Nicholas of
Cusa (1401–1464 ad). Plato’s Parmenides had an enormous influence
through the (supposed) pupil of St. Paul, Denys the Areopagite, until
it became directly known through the medieval translation of Proclus’
commentary on Plato’s dialogue by William of Moerbeke. Raymond
Klibansky, for example, discovered in Bernkastel-Kues Nicholas of
Cusa’s copy of Proclus’ commentary on Plato’s Parmenides, which
included the following remark by the Cardinal:
How important is the notion of the transformation of the

rational approach into a notion which recognizes the limits
of reason and the coincidences of contraries in the One, the
supreme principle.6
6 Wayne Hankey, One Hundred Years of Neoplatonism in France (Leuven:

Peeters, 2006), 219.
Foreword: The Legacy of the Parmenides xi
In the modern period, the Eleatic obsession with unity, this

Neoplatonic-Parmenidean motor of metaphysical speculation, did not
abate. Leibniz’s monadology is a philosophy of unity. All substances
are living mirrors of Divine unity, unified totalities, and inferior ful-
gurations of their transcendent source, and knowledge requires Divine
illumination. And Hegel represents, albeit in substantially modified
form, the last great version of a Neoplatonic theology of the Absolute.
The Parmenides is for Hegel the “größte Kunstwerk der alten Dialektik,”
(greatest creation of ancient dialectic) and its second part in particular
constitutes the true revelation (“ die wahre Enthüllung”) and the positive
expression of the Divine Life (“positive Ausdruck des göttlichen Lebens”).7
Whitehead had justification for speaking of Western philosophy as
footnotes to Plato, but it was especially the deeply Parmenidean Plato of
Neoplatonic provenance that formed the core of the “Western” tradition.
William James divides philosophers into the “tender minded,” who
are inclined to monism, and the “tough minded,” who are pluralists.8
Yet James’ division is somewhat misleading. Spinoza is an instance of a
philosopher who is clearly a monist. He attacks those pluralists who main-
tain a manifold of substances. Consider the Aristotelians, for whom the
world is constituted by a set of individual substances, wholes composed of
matter and form, unities that can be further classified according to genus
and differentia (which kind it belongs to and the distinctive characteristic
within that kind). Spinoza is developing a distinctively Eleatic argument
when he claims that this falsely attributes properties to individuals. For
Spinoza, these properties are properly understood as modifications of
attributes of the one infinite substance “Nature or God.” Spinoza argues
that only one substance can exist. If a substance is that which exists in
itself, and if this is an infinite being consisting of infinite attributes, there
cannot be more than one. Further, because all that exists, exists in itself
or in another, if anything is, then God must exist as that which exists in
se and on which the rest of reality depends as a finite modification. Here
Spinoza relies, however strongly modified by the intervening tradition
and his own particular genius, upon the Eleatic-Platonic principle that
“if the One is not, then nothing is.” Yet this is far from being a cheerful
“tender-minded” doctrine. Because God is the immanent and infinite
cause of the universe and Divine action is strictly necessary, all finite
actions are correctly understood as determined. Hence Spinoza denies
7 Georg W. F. Hegel, Gesammelte Werke (Hamburg: Rheinisch-Westfälischen

Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1980), 9:48.
8 William James, Pragmatism (New York: Dover Publications, 1995).
xii Plato’s Parmenides
not only freedom and contingency but also evil. The appearance of evil
in the world is a product of puny anthropomorphism and the failure to
attain philosophical insight into the structure of reality as opposed to
finite imaginings.
Spinoza is a tough-minded monist and a profoundly modern thinker.
Jonathan Israel has demonstrated Spinoza’s pivotal role in the European
Enlightenment.9 When Einstein claimed that “God does not play dice
with the universe” and Freud polemicized against religious prejudice in
The Future of an Illusion, both these seminal twentieth-century writ-
ers were following Spinoza’s path. The Eleaticism of the Parmenidean
tradition runs down through not only the “tender-minded” monists
such as the Romantics but also “tough-minded” pluralists within the
radical Enlightenment and beyond.
Parmenides and the History of Metaphysics

Ens or Unum: Being or the One?
One might see Western thought as marked by a tension between a
broadly Aristotelian ontology of the “scholastics” and an Eleatic henol-
ogy of certain philosophical “mystics.” For Aristotle, the meanings
of “unity” are as manifold as the meanings of “being.” But “unity”
is not an entity beyond concrete instantiations of unity. It means
“continuous” or “the whole,” individual or universal. Unity does not
exist apart from being, and the being of any item is characterized by a
kind of unity. Aristotle rejects the hypostatizing of the Parmenidean-
Pythagorean-Platonic tradition. The scholastic dictum that ens et
unum convertuntur expressed the Aristotelian doctrine. Nicholas of
Cusa developed his docta ignorantia and theory of the coincidence
of opposites against the “inveterate tradition of Aristotelianism.” 10
For Platonists like Nicholas, the mystery of the One beyond being
had eluded Aristotle. For Nicholas of Cusa, God as one (unum) is
radically different from all instances of being (ens), hence unum is
to be preferred to ens.
The Eleatic-henological tradition, which asserted the priority of the
One, was always present to some degree or other in the early medieval
9 Jonathan Israel, Radical Enlightenment: Philosophy and the Making of

Modernity, 1650–1750 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 230ff.
10 Raymond Klibansky, The Continuity of the Platonic Tradition During the
Middle Ages; together with, Plato’s Parmenides in the Middle Ages and the
Renaissance (New York: Kraus, 1981), 312.
Foreword: The Legacy of the Parmenides xiii
West, such as in John Scot Eriugena. However, it was powerfully revived

through the translation of Proclus’ Parmenides Commentary and his
Elements of Theology into Latin. Meister Eckhart asserted confidently
that being is founded and made possible by unity. Klibansky observes,
“For the tradition stretching from Eckhart to Hegel the Parmenides and
its Neoplatonic descendants seemed welcome allies in their struggle
against the fetters imposed on rational thought by the principle of
contradiction.”11 Yet this was not just the case in Germany. Samuel
Taylor Coleridge said, “Plato’s works are preparatory exercises of the
mind. He leads the mind to see that contradictory propositions are each
true—which therefore must belong to a higher Logic—that of Ideas.
They are contradictory only in the Aristotelian Logic.”12 In another
passage, Coleridge remarked, “Plato discovered the insufficiency of
the Understanding indirectly, by contradictions.”13 Paul Shorey diag-
nosed this version of dialectic leading to the coincidentia oppositorum
as contaminating the great Victorian translator of Plato into English,
Benjamin Jowett. “This Coleridgean poison,” he thundered, “has been
widely diffused by Jowett, who attributes to Plato a Hegelian Logic of
the future—which is the polar antithesis of the true Platonic dialec-
tic . . . . The higher logic is to philosophy what the higher law is to a
criminal court—an evasion of responsibility.”14
Yet if the Parmenides and its Neoplatonic descendants permeated
the mind of much of the nineteenth century, a powerful reaction set
in. Nietzsche’s dionysiac Will to Power was the strident assertion of
Becoming over Being. Subsquently Martin Heidegger’s diagnosis of
the epochal forgetting of Being could be viewed as a forgetting of the
Parmenidean-henological component of that tradition. His account
of the failure to maintain the “ontological difference,” to distinguish
between Sein (Being) and the Sein des Seienden (the being of beings) and
the consequent reification of being in the tradition of “ontotheology”
constitutes a procrustean reading of that tradition and an effective mar-
ginalization of the central tenet of the entire Parmenidean-henological
tradition, the Neoplatonic vision of metaphysics in which the gulf or
11 R. Klibansky, The Continuity of the Platonic Tradition, 329.

12 S. T. Coleridge, Table Talk [I:98] (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
1990), 98.
13 S. T. Coleridge, The Notebooks V:5495 (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
2002), 5495.
14 Paul Shorey, Platonism, Ancient and Modern (Berkeley: University of California
Press, 1938), 224–225. I am grateful to James Vigus for this reference.
xiv Plato’s Parmenides
rupture between the One as supreme principle and the being of beings
is decisive.
The period of the third to the sixth century ad, an age of Platonism
as theology and the Parmenides as the key to Platonic theology is
decisive for the Hellenic legacy in Christianity, Islam, and Judaism.
The closure of the Platonic school in Athens in 529 ad by Justinian
did not, in fact, put an end to the Neoplatonic tradition. Instead, it
thrived within the Christian and Islamic worlds. The translations of
Plotinus and Porphyry by Marius Victorinus formed the basis of the
Platonism of St. Augustine. Philo of Alexandria and St. Augustine are
quite explicit about their debts to the Platonici. The God of Abraham
and Isaac, who told Moses “I am who I am” (Exodus 3.14), was
translated into the Hellenistic milieu as the God of the intelligible
world presiding over the inferior realm of becoming. The battles
between the apologists for the new religion of the Roman Empire,
after Constantine’s edict of Milan, and the diehard pagans were often
conflicts between varieties of Platonism. Even after the closure of the
Platonic Academy, Platonism continued to exist, albeit in an often-
camouflaged form in Christian theology and among the remnants
of the Platonic school in Persian exile. The development of Muslim
philosophy (falsafa) is of particular note. The great expansion from
the Arab peninsula between 632 and 750 ad was not attended by
any interest in philosophy. Yet with the politically and ideologically
motivated translation activity of the newcomer dynasty, Abbasids,
between 750 and 1050 ad, Platonism exerted a formidable force. The
huge ambition of translating Greek philosophy into Arabic was a way
of asserting (and establishing) the cultural supremacy of Islamic culture
over the moribund anti-intellectualism of Byzantine Christianity. The
theology of Aristotle was a central part of this translation process, and
this theology was effectively a paraphrase of Plotinus (205–70 bc).
Islamic thinkers from Kindi (d. 866 ad), to Alfarabi (d. 950 ad), to
Avicenna (d. 1037 ad) were deeply Neoplatonic. The rediscovery of
Aristotle in the West through Islam revealed a markedly Neoplatonic
Stagirite. It was through Islamic philosophy that Neoplatonism came
to Jewish philosophers like Maimonides or Solomon ibn Gabirol.
Hence this Parmenidean-Neoplatonic tradition is a vital strand not
only in occidental Christian metaphysics but also within Islam, and
even crossing the sectarian boundaries of Shiite and Sunni Islam. Al
Ghazzali (d. 1111 ad), Suhrwardi (1191 ad), Ibn Arabi (d. 1240 ad),
and Mulla Sudra (d. 1640 ad) all operate within a Neoplatonic scheme
of descending and ascending unity. Talk of the Abrahamic faiths tends
Foreword: The Legacy of the Parmenides xv
to disguise the fact of a common philosophical tradition shared by

Rome and Tehran, Athens, and Cairo.15
Plato’s Parmenides as Theology

There is a historical reason for the pivotal position of the Parmenides
within the occidental philosophical tradition, providing a common
intellectual framework for the three great Abrahamic religions. Plotinus,
perhaps the greatest philosopher of the period between Aristotle and
Descartes, saw the Parmenides as the key to Plato’s philosophy. This was
established by E. R. Dodds in his classic article, “The Parmenides of
Plato and the Origin of the Neoplatonic ‘One’.” 16 Thus, the Parmenides
becomes a theological text. One could describe the period of thought
commonly designated as Neoplatonism (from the third to the sixth
century ad) as distinguished from the Middle Platonism of the first
and second centuries ad as a paradigm shift from the model of the
Timaeus to that of the Parmenides. This shift corresponds to a move
from Platonism as primarily a philosophy concerned with questions
of cosmology to Platonism as a theology of the transcendent absolute.
Here we find the doctrine of the One itself as a quasi object, as opposed
to the various problems associated with unity and multiplicity. Does it
exist? What is the One? What is its relation to Being? This Parmenidean
theology of Plotinus is clearly expounded in Ennead V 1, with particu-
lar reference to both the writings of Parmenides and to Parmenides as
he is represented in Plato’s eponymous dialogue. The “Parmenides in
Plato,” Plotinus insists,
distinguishes from each other the first One, which is more

properly called One, and the second which he calls “One-
Many” and the third, “one and many.” In this way he too
agrees with the doctrine of the three natures.
Plotinus’ reading of the Parmenides was linked to an ambiguity in

the Republic 509 regarding the Good as “beyond Being.” Does this mean
that the Good is the most distant form, or does it postulate a rupture
between the Good and the forms? Plotinus insisted upon the latter,
15 Garth Fowden, Empire to Commonwealth: Consequences of Monotheism in

Late Antiquity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993).
16 E. R. Dodds, “The Parmenides of Plato and the Origin of the Neoplatonic
‘One’,” Classical Quarterly 22 (1928): 129–142.
xvi Plato’s Parmenides
viewing the Good as the transcendent causal source of the realm of

forms and identifying the Good beyond Being with the first hypothesis
of the Parmenides. The metaphysical reading of the Parmenides was not
unique to Plotinus; the Neopythagorean Moderatus had expounded the
hypotheses as metaphysical truths. The Tübingen School of Platonic
scholarship has laid emphasis upon those aspects of Neoplatonism
that were among the “unwritten doctrines” of the Academy, notably
the ideas of the One and the indefinite dyad. Yet it was Plotinus who
bequeathed the shape of this metaphysical construal of the second part
of the Parmenides for the rest of Antiquity and, to a significant degree,
the shape in which it was interpreted up to Hegel.
Hence, when Plotinus presents the One as ineffable and approach-
able only through negation, he uses the words of Plato’s Parmenides
142.A3–4 in Ennead VI 7.41, 37–38 quoting:
Therefore “There is neither discourse nor perception nor

knowledge” because it is impossible to predicate anything
of it as present with it.
The modern reader may find the link between the “Good beyond
Being” of the Republic and the first hypothesis of Plato’s Parmenides
extremely tenuous, but Plotinus assumed an underlying systematic unity
to Plato’s thought revealed by his somewhat imaginative exegesis. The
second part of Plato’s Parmenides was seen as providing an ontology
for the three hypostases of intelligible reality: the One, the One-Many,
and the One and Many. The One, Intellect, and Soul respectively
form descending levels of immaterial being. The ineffable One is the
transcendent principle of all being, with the intellect and the soul
envisaged as concentric circles around the One.17 In these lower phases,
nothing is separated from the presence of the One. In the pithy phrase
of Nicholas of Cusa, the One is non-other (non aliud).
From Elea to Alexandria

Recent debates about occidental and oriental culture tend to ignore
an essential aspect of this formative phase of Western thought: the role
of Alexandria. Nineteenth century German historiography habitu-
ally referred to Neoplatonism as quintessentially “the Alexandrian
Philosophy” (die Alexandrinische Philosophie). Plotinus himself trained
17 Plotinus, Ennead VI 9.5, 30.

Foreword: The Legacy of the Parmenides xvii
in Alexandria, even if he wrote in Rome. Alexandria was a meeting

point of East and West, and it replaced Athens as the cultural center of
the Hellenic world. Many of the leading Neoplatonists were products
of the Hellenic Eastern Mediterranean. Of course, Alexandria, a great
cosmopolitan center, was named after Alexander the Great, a pupil
of Aristotle, whose empire included Persia and extended beyond the
Hindu Kush into the Punjab. The view of Bréhier that the thought
of Plotinus exhibits a strong Asian (and non-Greek) component in his
philosophy has been largely rejected as fanciful.18 Sankara, the Indian
Plato, lived some centuries after the death of Plotinus, and we are clearly
not looking at any direct influences.
But Plotinus clearly knew rumors and tales of Zoroastrians,
Brahmins, and Buddhists and possibly met some. We know from
Porphyry that Plotinus embarked upon an unsuccessful expedition to
learn about the philosophy of the Persians and the Indians. And the
Philosophy of the One, which Plotinus derived from Plato’s Parmenides,
provides a genuine analogy with the monism of the Upanishads and
the later system of advaita Vedanta of Sankara. The Vedic poet sings
of the supreme Unity beyond being:
There was not then what is nor what is not. There was no
sky, and no heaven beyond the sky. What power was there?
Where? Who was that power? Was there an abyss of fathom-
less waters? There was neither death nor immortality then.
No signs were there of night or day. The ONE was breathing
by its own power, in infinite peace. Only the ONE was:
there was nothing beyond.19
From the ancient songs of the Vedas (1200–1000 bc) to the Sanskrit
Upanishads (800–400 bc), the ascent from the many to the One was
expounded with increasing sophistication. Sankara’s theory of advaita
(non-dualism) in the eighth century ad is a rigorous philosophical
explication of the more poetic insights from the Vedic scriptures and
Sanskrit spiritual teachings; the structural affinities are remarkable.
Ironically, although the Parmenidean legacy is often attacked as the
18 Émile Bréhier, The Philosophy of Plotinus, translated by Joseph Thomas

(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1958); A. H. Armstrong, “Plotinus
and India,” Classical Quarterly 30 (1936): 22–28.
19 Rig Veda X.129. Translation by Juan Mascaró in The Upanishads (London:
Penguin, 1965).
xviii Plato’s Parmenides
basis of an aggrandizing philosophy of identity (e.g., Adorno), in fact

it has afforded the basis for real dialogue with the great intellectual
tradition of South Asia. The European “discovery” of Indian monism
in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries was prepared for by the
Romantic-idealistic rediscovery of the Eleatic tradition and vigorously
propagated by Herder and F. Schlegel. Perhaps the most significant
fruit of this was the work of Arthur Schopenhauer (1788–1860), who
presented a strident metaphysics of the ideality of the Many and its
source in one cosmic ‘Will’. Wagner, Nietzsche, Hermann Hesse,
Thomas Mann, C. J. Jung, Freud and Wittgenstein all were influenced
by Schopenhauer’s potent ‘Indic’ revision of Parmenides.
The enigmatic nature of the world’s very existence, being and
becoming, universals and particulars, the problem of human origins and
goals, and the problem of evil and freedom are questions that constitute
our spiritual oxygen. Whether in Athens or Jerusalem, Alexandria or
Tehran, on the banks of the Ganges or the Rhine, wherever the force
of such questions is felt, Plato’s Parmenides will continue to wield its
unique sway.
Douglas Hedley
Reader in Hermeneutics and Metaphysics
University of Cambridge, 2009
Preface and Acknowledgements
The origins of this present work came about in a somewhat com-

plicated but fortuitous way. My first encounter with Plato’s Parmenides
dialogue predates my abiding fascination with Parmenides of Elea, and
was initially prompted by a few remarks by Hegel. Hoping to better
grasp the finer technicalities in Hegelian dialectic, I consulted the
Parmenides; failing to make sense of it, I fatefully turned to the poem
of the historical Parmenides for further elucidation. The experiences
that followed are best likened to the old adage, “from the frying pan
into the fire.” Although exasperation and perplexity became my stead-
fast companions in the search, I was bitten by the bug; I have been
captivated by both works ever since.
I went on to write two books on the Eleatic: To Think Like God, a
juxtaposition of the Pythagorean and Parmenidean approaches, and
a yet-to-be-published monograph on Parmenides’ Poem called The
Naked Is. The latter has remained unpublished for a reason. I became
convinced early on that the full impact of Parmenides’ thought on
philosophy in general (both ancient and modern) had never been
fully documented. To remedy this perceived deficiency, I conceived
of a series of nine books that would begin with the pre-Parmenideans
and end with Wittgenstein, and perhaps modern physics, quantum
theory, and so on. In some sense, I wanted to portray the history of
philosophy—especially its metaphysical, logical, and epistemological
inquiries—as a discussion of Parmenidean (or Eleatic) ideas and/or
their consequences spanning two-and-a-half millennia.
The first book of the series was reserved for the Milesians,
Pythagoras, Xenophanes, and Heraclitus. But certain Archaic poets
who I felt might have influenced Parmenides were also meant to be
included. The Naked Is, on Parmenides’ object of inquiry, was planned
as the second installment of the series, followed by a third on the post-
Parmenidean Presocratics, a fourth on the Sophists and early Plato,
xix
xx Plato’s Parmenides
and a fifth on Plato’s Parmenides (including an examination of Plato’s

other “Eleatic” dialogues) called Above Being. The sixth book was to
address Aristotle’s rather thorny relationship with the Eleatic (and
focus largely on the Metaphysics), followed by the seventh on the Neo-
Pythagoreans and Neo-Platonists, with the eighth and ninth volumes
dedicated to thinkers like Descartes, Leibniz, Spinoza, Berkley, Kant,
Fichte, Schelling, Hegel, Meinong, Russell, and Wittgenstein.
As I was finishing the first two volumes, however, Walter Burkert,
who had reviewed early versions of the manuscripts, advised me to
merge these for the purpose of contrasting Pythagoras (or rather, the
“Pythagoreans”) with Parmenides within the same book. I subse-
quently dropped the Milesians, the Poets, and Heraclitus from the
exposition, and also eliminated substantial sections dealing with both
Pythagoras and Parmenides—if only to avoid having the work balloon
to a weighty, 800-page tome. The removal of a line-by-line interpreta-
tion of Parmenides’ Poem—together with some chapters on specific
interpretative issues—necessitated the rearrangement of The Naked Is.
Once the resulting work To Think Like God was published, I resumed
writing and researching, focusing now on the historical Parmenides and
Plato’s Parmenides dialogue side by side. However, I became increasingly
convinced that a number of the available translations of the dialogue
skewed some of the more important issues to one degree or another.
There was a certain amount of inconsistency in regard to terminology,
which, when dealing with such an exceedingly technical work as the
Parmenides, can be an impediment to securing a coherent interpreta-
tion. (Regrettably, Samuel Scolnicov’s Plato’s Parmenides was not yet
available at the time. Scolnicov’s translation of the dialogue is, in my
opinion, remarkably faithful, coherent and clear.)
Around that time I asked Sylvana Chrysakopoulou—in view of
her philological background—to join me in going through the Greek
text of the dialogue line by line and word for word. The project, which
initially started in Athens, Greece, was eventually completed in Pisa,
Italy, under the supervision of Glenn Most of the Scuola Normale
Superiore. The general idea was to bring about a new translation that
could be both accurate and consistent, while still retaining a certain
sense of transparency and accessibility—one that would hopefully
also appeal to the non-specialist. In addition to the translation, my
publisher was interested in bringing out a volume that, for the first
time in decades, would juxtapose the Ancient Greek with the Modern
English as a useful tool for students. I was to prepare a brief introduc-
tion and commentary, without unnecessarily burdening the reader with
Preface and Acknowledgements xxi
an all-too-elaborate exposition of interpretative issues. In contrast, a

more detailed interpretation of the dialogue was to be included in the
upcoming book Above Being.
To write concisely about the Parmenides is the most difficult chal-
lenge I can imagine. It is therefore not surprising that while working
on this abridged introduction and commentary, I became ever more
aware of the necessity of yet another book, one I have tentatively titled
Plato’s Eleatic Project, to focus on Plato’s Eleatic dialogues. The impetus
for this new project came from my conversations with Mitchell Miller,
who graciously agreed to edit an early version of the introductory essay.
The ensuing back-and-forth discussion forced me to take a sharper look
at some of the issues in question, and I became increasingly convinced
that the Parmenides and the Sophist were complementing each other in
ways not fully explored by scholarship (with the exception perhaps of
works by John Palmer 1 and, most recently, Charles Kahn2). Moreover,
I wanted to establish both dialogues firmly on the foundation provided
by Parmenides’ Poem. I spent the following year working on Plato’s
Eleatic Project, while at the same time putting together an improved
introductory essay for the present book—to conform to my current
research. Gerhard Seel was kind enough to examine the updated result
(and his wise suggestions have also helped me with Plato’s Eleatic Project).
The Above Being manuscript has not been abandoned. I hope to be
able to release it after Plato’s Eleatic Project, and to have it substantially
reworked so as to include a historically broader comparative approach
to Eleatic metaphysics and epistemology. In a sense, Above Being will
offer an abridged version of the original nine-volume series, or at least
tackle the subjects and themes that have remained unaddressed. Does
this mean that I aim to bring out a total of three different works that
deal with the Parmenides dialogue (whether exclusively or in comparison
with other dialogues or works)? Yes, I confess to this intention. The
Parmenides, in my view, is sufficiently rich and inspirational to sustain
not only the aforementioned inquiries but many more to boot. The
rather unique exercises brought to us by the Parmenides have become
pivotal for my understanding of philosophy in general, and I know
that in some way or another I will be dealing with this dialogue for
as long as I live.
In our translation of the Parmenides, we have focused on the
Greek text of the Harvard Loeb edition, Plato IV. This is also the text
1 Palmer, Plato’s Reception of Parmenides.

2 Kahn, Parmenides chapter (a work in progress on Plato’s later dialogues).
xxii Plato’s Parmenides
reproduced in this volume. I am grateful to the publishers and the

Trustees of the Loeb Classical Library for their permission to reprint it
here. For comparative translations, we have relied principally on Gill,
Plato: Parmenides; R. E. Allen, Plato’s Parmenides; Sayre, Parmenides’
Lesson; Cornford, Plato and Parmenides; Turnbull, The Parmenides and
Plato’s Late Philosophy; and Scolnicov, Plato’s Parmenides. Additionally,
with an eye to interpretative issues, I have depended on Miller, Plato’s
Parmenides; Palmer, Plato’s Reception of Parmenides; Meinwald, Plato’s
Parmenides; Brumbaugh, Plato on the One; Brisson, Platon Parménide;
Kahn, Essays on Being (as well as a chapter on Parmenides from an
unpublished manuscript on Plato’s later dialogues); Koumakis, Platons
Parmenides; Rickless, Plato’s Forms in Transition; Guthrie, The Later
Plato and the Academy (HGP V); Sayre, Plato’s Late Ontology; Wundt,
Platons Parmenides; Beets, Genesis, A Companion to Plato’s Parmenides;
Apelt, Untersuchungen über den Parmenides des Plato; and Schudoma,
Platons Parmenides. (For additional works and articles, see the biblio-
graphy.) Unless otherwise specified, all passages and quotes from Plato’s
other dialogues are borrowed from Cooper (ed.), Plato: Complete Works.
Having arrived at the end of this journey, I feel quite humbled and
somewhat relieved, but more than anything else, there is a tremendous
sense of gratitude. The contributions to this effort have been legion,
arising in a multitude of forms and from many quarters. For the
translation, I am much indebted to Sylvana Chrysakopoulou for the
almost superhuman effort that was required for this task—the long,
dogged, ten-hour days, months on end, filled equally with desperation
and elation. I would also like to express my deepest gratitude to Glenn
Most for his insight, guidance, and patience.
A special thank you is due to Douglas Hedley for his thoughtful
contribution to this volume. I envisioned an essay focused on the
historical aftermath and influence of the Parmenides, rather than its
metaphysics, serving as an introduction to the translation. As Reader in
Hermeneutics and Metaphysics in the Faculty of Divinity, Cambridge
University, Douglas is uniquely qualified to write such an introduction.
Mitchell Miller’s input has been invaluable, and I have gladly
accepted his corrections and suggestions. Mitchell’s understanding
of the Parmenides is profound, and he is always an inspiration. I also
owe a huge debt of gratitude to Gerhard Seel for agreeing to edit the
final draft and for his kind mentoring on critical issues. Gerhard is a
good friend, and we have been dissecting various issues related to the
Parmenides for years. We have gone over the whole dialogue line by line
Preface and Acknowledgements xxiii
numerous times—once, even, at the University of Bern, where Gerhard’s

last class before his retirement was dedicated to the dialogue. Another
time we participated in a reading and discussion of the Parmenides in
Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates. I have learned much from Gerhard,
but most of all, I appreciate the humor and wit he brings to philosophy.
I am extremely grateful to Charles Kahn, who has generously pro-
vided me with a chapter from his latest work (in progress) on Plato’s
later dialogues that gives his own commentary on the Parmenides.
Charles Kahn’s summation of the Eight Arguments of the Second
Part of the dialogue is utterly masterful in its clarity and coherence. It
will no doubt represent a milestone in interpretation and I can hardly
wait for its release.
I am thankful to Vassilis Karasmanis for the conversations we have
had about the Parmenides and Plato’s arguments, and also for inviting
me to the weekly seminars at the Department of Humanities of the
National Technical University of Athens. I extend the same sense of
gratitude to Katerina Ierodiakonou for inviting me to attend her and
Michael Frede’s seminars and discussions at the Department of History
and Philosophy of Science of the University of Athens. I have learned a
lot from these experiences, and am particularly grateful to Michael for
opening my eyes regarding a few related issues in the Sophist, which,
as I found out, could also be used to resolve certain difficulties in the
Parmenides. I also want to thank George Karamanolis, whose sugges-
tions on specific issues regarding the Greek text have been very helpful.
I would like to state my appreciation to the following scholars:
Costas Macris for his occasional input regarding the translation, and
Spyros Rangos, who made me aware of the similarities found between
several key passages in the dialogue and formulations used by Gorgias.
I should also mention how helpful I found discussions with Russell
Re Manning, David Leech, Russell Hillier, Geoffrey Dumbreck,
and Elizabeth Disley, all of whom had come to Athens for a summer
workshop on the Parmenides that was co-organized and sponsored
by Cambridge (in coordination with Douglas Hedley) and the Hyele
Institute.
Above all, I am most obliged and grateful to my wife, Sara Hermann,
the publisher of Parmenides Publishing, for her advice, encouragement,
understanding, and spiritual and material support—not to mention
her unending patience and persistence. This work would simply not
exist without Sara.
A heartfelt thank you is reserved for my assistants, Barbara Meier,
Laura Dobler and Petia Prisadnikova, for their long hours, their constant
xxiv Plato’s Parmenides
availability, and their help in general. I very much appreciate the

unceasing support provided by the staff of Parmenides Publishing,
particularly that of Eliza Tutellier (who is an excellent managing edi-
tor), Gale Carr, Susanne Waldburger, Derryl Rice, Karen Succi, Jeff
Crouse, and Christie Stark. I really appreciate the hard work put in by
my copyeditors, Jennifer Morgan and Deborah Nash.
Last but not least, I want to express my gratitude to the following
Starcom staff for their dedication and commitment: Stefan Schrott,
Mats Scholz, Regula Suter, René Schön, Denise Senn, Cornelia Frieden,
Jutta Geisenberger, Claudia Schön, Claudia Zanvit, Moni Sauerteig,
Sandro Hodosy, Tom Karaiskos, Simon Vögele . . . and Zoe; and also
to Meagann Parson for her insatiable questions.
P.S.: Thanks, Plato, for keeping me really busy.
Arnold Hermann
Athens, Greece, 2010
The motivation for the present translation came from Arnold

Hermann’s desire to provide readers of his forthcoming book, Plato’s
Eleatic Project, with a new reading of the dialogue from an Eleatic
viewpoint. Our shared interest in Parmenidean thought, its origins and
reception, was a primary reason for our collaboration, and I thank him
for this unique opportunity. I worked under the insightful supervision of
Professor Glenn W. Most, thanks to whom I received my post-doctoral
scholarship from the Scuola Normale Superiore in Pisa for the academic
year 2005–2006. I also owe special thanks to my colleague George
Karamanolis, whose pertinent remarks on the translation have proven
helpful. Last but not least, I am grateful to my friend, Douglas Hedley,
whose inspiring Foreword provides a new perspective on the reading
of Plato’s Parmenides, by tracing its legacy throughout history, from
its origins in Ancient Greece all the way into our times.
Dr. Sylvana Chrysakopoulou

Researcher at the Hellenic Parliament Foundation
Athens, Greece, 2007
THE PARMENIDES: AN INTRODUCTORY ESSAY FOR
READERS AND INTERPRETERS
The Uniqueness
of the Parmenides Dialogue
Can the very same thing be both known and unknown, be both
nameable and unnameable, have shape and be shapeless, be in motion
and at rest, and be neither in motion nor at rest; indeed, both be and
not be? Questions like these beset the student of Plato’s Parmenides,
regardless of how well acquainted he or she might otherwise be with
the rest of the Platonic corpus. Plato himself quite tellingly frames the
extent of our predicament when he lets his protagonist, Parmenides
of Elea, admit that only an ingenious person can cope with notions
such as “a being itself by itself,” or that someone even more remarkable
is needed to teach it to others—and can succeed only if these others
are already proficient in handling these kind of difficulties (135b). As
Plato further reveals, a “dangerous and vast sea of arguments” must
be negotiated if one is to comprehend all the possible ramifications of
fundamental issues and achieve true insight (136e–137a).
Sure enough, the attempt to follow the deductions that make up
said “vast sea of arguments” of the so-called Second Part of the dialogue
(137c–166c) can be a vexing experience. Often, just when we think we
have grasped something concrete or believe we are keeping track of a
particular line of reasoning, the very next sentence will turn everything
on its head, demolishing our tenuous confidence and forcing us to
realize that we have grasped nothing.
Arguably, no other philosophical treatise has had quite the capacity
of the Parmenides to make its reader feel so hopelessly lost, confused,
and, indeed, witless. The work is avoided, and at times feared, by even
the most seasoned among scholars. Nonetheless, as shown by Douglas
Hedley’s Foreword to this present translation, the Parmenides is one
of the most influential works on record, its significance reaching far
beyond the austere halls of philosophical inquiry. The catechismal
3
4 The Parmenides: An Introductory Essay
structure, together with some of its debatable conclusions, has found

its way into a variety of theologies.1 Viewed by many as a rigorous dia-
lectical exercise it has become a model for similar subsequent efforts in
some ways heralding the so-called scientific approach. Its themes have
become timeless, preoccupying generations of thinkers; topics such as
the One and Many problem, or the proper understanding of Being, or
the nature of abstracts versus physical things, or what the prerequisites
are for something to be known or understood.2
The biggest riddle of the Parmenides is how to make sense of it from
a modern perspective.3 Is it a methodological exercise? A model of self-
criticism and retrospection? A profound metaphysical exploration of
mystical proportions, even “the greatest work of art in philosophy”?4
Or something else altogether—a riddle without answer, a practical
joke even, played by Plato on his students? A satirical jab at philosophi-
cal argumentation gone mad?5 In the past two centuries, all of these
positions have been argued for by scholars, adding to the difficulty of
making sense of the work. Such disagreements appear strange from the
point of view of antiquity. The Parmenides dialogue was not judged
by the old commentators as being somehow outside of Plato’s body of
work, and least of all was it considered to be antagonistic to one of his
main teachings, the Theory of Forms.6
Most modern scholars, however, have come to characterize the
Parmenides as a self-critical work. Many think it represents a watershed
1 It is hard to imagine the emergence of Negative Theology in Western culture

and religion without the results of Argument I. See also Reynard, “The
Influence of Plato’s Parmenides upon the Cappadocian Fathers”; Runia, “Early
Alexandrian Theology and Plato’s Parmenides”; Edwards, “Christians and
the Parmenides.”
2 Speiser, Ein Parmenideskommentar, 5: “[Parmenides] can be called the beauti-
ful prelude to Western philosophy.”
3 See Annas, “What Are Plato’s ‘Middle’ Dialogues in the Middle Of?” 13.
4 Liebrucks, “Zur Dialektik des Einen und Seienden in Platons Parmenides,”
249.
5 According to Taylor, Plato is satirizing the Megarians (The Parmenides of Plato,
10–12, 128; Plato, the Man and His Work, 351); Frye considers the dialogue
a joke (Plato, 28); Burnet, Greek Philosophy I, 253–270. See Koumakis
for an exhaustive survey of the various categories of interpretation (Platons
Parmenides, 23–32).
6 The ancient commentators seem to have had a more uniform view of Plato’s
work. See Annas, “What Are Plato’s ‘Middle’ Dialogues in the Middle
Of?” 13.
The Uniqueness of the Parmenides Dialogue 5
moment, forcing Plato to either overhaul his Theory of Forms or

demote it to a rank of lesser importance, or even to discard it altogether
in favor of newer approaches.7 These positions belong to what has
come to be called the Developmentalist View. This general take on
Plato’s work takes notice of doctrinal differences among his dialogues
and accounts for these as indications of Plato’s own philosophical
development, spanning as much as five decades.8 Much effort has
been spent organizing the various dialogues on chronological lines,
giving us today’s Early, Middle, and Late classifications. It appears
that, presently, the majority of scholars belong to the Developmentalist
group in one form or another.
By contrast, those who disagree with the above view are called
Unitarians. Taking a substantially more unified position on Plato’s
teachings, this group has sought to isolate a single, internally coherent
philosophy spanning all of Plato’s work. Scholars who support this posi-
tion don’t accept the chronological distinctions as binding dogma. They
also reject the possibility that Plato may have been forced to carry out
dramatic changes in his work, or that he rescinded entire portions of it.9
Of the Unitarians who have commented on the Parmenides, the more
radical among them have opted to find fault with its arguments rather
than with the Theory of Forms, and they have been more inclined to
7 Burnet notes (incorrectly) that the Forms are not mentioned after the
Parmenides, except once in the Timaeus; thus, he thinks that Plato abandons
the Theory of Forms (Greek Philosophy I, 155). See also Ryle for a similar take
(Plato’s Parmenides, 132–135). Owen enumerates substantial changes in the
Theory of Forms, suggesting that the Parmenides (together with Theaetetus)
represents a fresh start for Plato. He also maintains that the Parmenides
exposed fallacies in the Theory still perpetuated by the Middle Dialogues
(“The Place of the Timaeus in Plato’s dialogues,” 337). Bostock states, “The
late dialogues open with a recognition that something has gone wrong. In the
first part of the Parmenides Plato shows himself aware that the theory of forms
is not after all the panacea for all problems, but involves serious difficulties
of its own. This is a severe blow to all the great theories of the middle period,
and it appears that everything is now back in the melting-pot again” (Plato’s
Theaetetus, 13–14).
8 For a useful exposition of the various views, including the distinction between
Developmentalist and Unitarian, see Brickhouse and Smith, “Plato,” The
Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy.
9 Noteworthy Unitarians today (or at least skeptics of a dogmatic chronology)
include Kahn, Plato and the Socratic Dialogue; Cooper, Plato: Complete
Works, xii–xviii; and Annas, “What Are Plato’s ‘Middle’ Dialogues in the
Middle Of?”
dismiss the dialogue itself as a negligible or frivolous exercise.10 However,

this particular reading, while still widely popular in the early part of
the 20th century, is largely disappearing, giving way to a consensus,
upheld even by latter-day Unitarians, that accepts the Parmenides as a
serious philosophical exercise worth paying attention to. Hence, today,
most scholars seem to accept the dialogue as a critical investigation of
Plato’s Theory of Forms, in spite of the fact that almost everyone has
a different take on its outcome.11
We do not know why Plato alternated between approaches, pick-
ing one for a particular task and retiring it in turn for another, only to
resurrect it again for a different purpose; we can only guess. To a great
extent, the Platonic dialogues function as demonstrations.12 Perhaps
Plato meant to show us that there are a variety of ways of approaching
problems that deal with intelligible things. As the Parmenides attests,
even the proficiency of the audience, or its size, can be factors that
influence one’s choice of method (135b, 136d, 137a).
Considering the profundity and timelessness of its themes, it is
safe to say that the Parmenides represents a significant, unparalleled
contribution to general philosophy and an equally significant landmark
in Plato’s overall approach.
10 Cf. Cherniss, “The Relation of the Timaeus to Plato’s Later Dialogues,”

373–375; Shorey, The Unity of Plato’s Thought, 36 (162), 58 (184). Cherniss
and Shorey uphold that Plato did not improve or alter his Theory of Forms;
the arguments of the Parmenides are portrayed as intentionally deficient, and
not to be taken seriously.
11 My own position is one of a cautious Developmentalist who has remained
uneasy with the given chronological distinctions, particularly if they are used
to stifle certain thematic or methodological comparisons.
12 Gerhard Seel has brought to my attention that the claim “the dialogues
function as demonstrations” seems somewhat questionable, pointing out that
the early dialogues are considered elenchic, and to what degree the middle
and later dialogues function as demonstrations is rather disputed. With this
caveat, I will hold on to my claim, extending the definition of demonstra-
tions if we must. Plato, in my view, as a student of both the Eleatics and the
Pythagoreans, is clearly seeking to reproduce a probative approach—not unlike
the one claimed to be reserved for the Mathematikoi, in Pythagoras’ case, or
the kind of methodological argumentation which distinguishes Eleaticism,
from, let’s say, Heraclitus.
Format, Setting, Characters,
Timeline, and Motive
The Parmenides dialogue is made up of two parts of unequal length.

The shorter First Part stretches from 126a to 137c (Stephanus pages);
the Second Part picks up at 137c and concludes at 166c. In the First
Part, the main interlocutors are Socrates and Parmenides of Elea, with a
brief exchange between Socrates and Zeno of Elea near the beginning;
in the Second Part, the dialogue takes place strictly between Parmenides
and the youngest attendant, Aristoteles (not the philosopher).
Plato presents the dialogue as related to us by Cephalus of
Clazomenae, who is otherwise unknown,13 as is Cephalus’ intended
audience. Some scholars have made much of the fact that Clazomenae
is also the place of origin of Anaxagoras, the known Presocratic thinker.
The speculation is that Plato introduces a fictional Clazomenaen as
a plot device to bring to mind Anaxagoras’ teachings.14 However, the
Parmenides is not geared as a distinctive response to Anaxagoras, nor
are Anaxagoras’ ideas given special consideration by its author. As noth-
ing more substantial than the conjecture itself is ever offered, there is
nothing to add to this questionable theory.
Cephalus claims to have heard the dialogue from Antiphon, who
had learned it by heart as a young man, having heard it in turn from
13 But see also Miller (Plato’s Parmenides, 18–25), who connects the Cephalus
of the Parmenides to the Cephalus of the Republic as one of the links between
the two dialogues. Compare also Thesleff, who makes similar connections
(cf. Platonic Patterns, 306).
14 Brumbaugh, Plato on the One, 14, 28–29, 51; Miller, Plato’s Parmenides,
26–28. Sayre regards this theory as dubious, but he recognizes a certain
symbolism here, thinking that Plato links these two journeys, one from
Elea and the other from Clazomenae, to create an impression of a significant
philosophical encounter (Parmenides’ Lesson, 58).
7
Pythodorus, an acquaintance of Zeno, who was historically deemed

as Parmenides’ closest pupil. According to Pythodorus, the meet-
ing took place at his home in Keramikos, not far from the Agora, or
marketplace, a quarter otherwise known for its pottery workshops
and ancient cemetery, as well as for harboring the Holy Gate on the
Sacred Road to Eleusis. The occasion is marked by a reading of Zeno’s
book, a controversial work that the author, we are told, had brought
to Athens for the first time. Age differences seem to be a factor in
Plato’s account 15 thus, the ages of the principle interlocutors are pre-
served as follows: Parmenides around sixty-five; Zeno approaching
forty; Socrates “very young” (he was likely in his early twenties); and
Aristoteles “the youngest,” probably still a teenager. This information,
and the fact that the Eleatics were visiting Attica for the purpose of
the Great Panathenian Games (held every four years from the end of
July to mid-August), allows us to pinpoint the date of this gathering
fairly accurately as 450 bc.16
The most difficult date to reconstruct is the date of the dialogue’s
composition. Researchers cannot even agree whether it was written in
one piece. Some have speculated that the First and Second Parts were
composed at different times, perhaps even years or decades apart.17
A tentative accord has emerged in recent interpretation that places it
after 370 –365 bc, thus setting the work among the earlier of the late
dialogues.18 Without a doubt, the dialogue is a later work, yet how late,
or in what order its parts were written with respect to other dialogues,
remains the stuff of conjecture.
A Meeting Between Parmenides and Socrates: Fact or Fiction?

We have no way of knowing whether Parmenides and Socrates ever
met as depicted in the Parmenides, although Plato made additional,
if very cursory, references to such an encounter in the Sophist and the
Theaetetus.19 Some scholars take this as an indication that the Parmenides
15 Noted also by Lee, Zeno of Elea, 5.

16 Cf. Allen, Plato’s Parmenides, 72–74; Nails, The People of Plato, 309.
17 See Ryle, Plato’s Progress, 288–291; Sayre, Parmenides’ Lesson, xi, and Plato’s
Late Ontology, 16, 256–267 (Appendix B); and Ledger, Re-Counting Plato,
for further discussions of this issue.
18 See Thesleff, Platonic Patterns, 382.
19 Sophist, 217c; Theaetetus, 183e.
was written before these dialogues.20 Yet, in themselves, passing refer-

ences such as these do not prove very much.21 If the encounter was
indeed a historical reality, it could have been common knowledge in
the Academy. Consequently, references to the meeting could have
made their way into the Theaetetus and Sophist not as a reflection of the
Parmenides but as a statement of some information or opinion that was
common to all.22 Thus, although many have tried to resolve the issue,
it is impossible to tell on this basis how these particular dialogues stand
in a chronological relationship with each other.23 This is especially dif-
ficult in regard to the Parmenides and the Sophist. Conventionally, the
Sophist is taken to be the later of the two, partially due to the reason
stated above, and also because of its critical treatment of the issue of
Not-Being, commonly considered by many as a more accomplished
approach than the one offered in the Parmenides. Indeed, Plato’s pred-
icative approach to the question of Not-Being, as opposed to a strictly
existential and thus “Eleatic” take,24 is generally valued as an innovative
and well-timed contribution to philosophical discourse.
20 Cf. Ryle, Plato’s Progress, 289; Frede, D. “Comments on Julia Annas,” New
Perspectives on Plato, 35n8. But see also Thesleff, Platonic Patterns, 304ff.
21 For example, I disagree with Thesleff ’s approach to the problem, which in
my view perfectly exemplifies the “Parmenides before Sophist” view based
solely on the fact that the Parmenides-Socrates meeting is also recounted in
the Sophist. With this read, the possibility that it may be a historical reality is
fully discounted, necessitating that we view Plato’s reference to it as nothing
more than a dramatic device. However, Plato may have simply offered a fact
that was well known to the other members of the Academy. To do justice to
Thesleff, I reproduce here his exact words: “For Parmenides, note, in addition
to the various allusions in the Sophist, the almost explicit reference to the later
part of Parmenides in Sophist 217c where Socrates asks the Elean Stranger
whether he prefers to give a continuous lecture (cf. Timaeus) or to use a ques-
tioning method such as Parmenides once used ‘when I was present as a young
man, and he was very old’” (Platonic Patterns, 343). Again, this ignores the
possibility that Socrates may have actually witnessed such a demonstration
(not, of course, about the Forms) regardless of whether Plato opted to also
use it in the Parmenides. If Plato had “invented” the “questioning” method,
why would he have Socrates attribute it to Parmenides in the Sophist, and to
Zeno in the Parmenides?
22 See Ryle, Plato’s Progress, 289–290, who also toys with this possibility.
23 My view is restricted to content, and not based on stylometric or linguistic
comparisons. But see Kahn’s exposition of the various possibilities (includ-
ing Campbell’s results) that have been explored regarding the Parmenides
(“On Platonic Chronology,” New Perspectives on Plato, 93 –108, 126–127).
24 “Existential” only according to Plato’s apparent take on Parmenides in the
Sophist, not according to my interpretation of the Eleatic; cf. To Think Like God.
But the historical Parmenides was not as strictly existential—and

thus, not as exhaustively non-predicative in his use of οὐκ ἔστιν (Not-
Being, literally “is not,”)25 —as most modern readers would like him
to be.26 Nor is there sufficient indication that Plato actually thought
that he was, but only that he held the Sophistic movement responsible
for illegitimately appropriating and thus distorting the old Eleatic.27
Because I can come up with an equal amount of arguments for the
chronological precedence of either dialogue, I have opted to think of
them as composed around the same time. But this, like everything else
we can say about the matter—including any other thematic studies
or linguistic comparisons that have been conducted on the subjects,
stylometric or otherwise—is speculation.28 No approach is conclusive
enough to be deemed fully reliable.
One thing, however, seems beyond dispute: if a meeting between
the Eleatics and Socrates did in fact take place, the discussion could
not have been about the Theory of Forms, which had not yet seen the
light of day. (It would be another twenty-five years or so until Plato
would be born.29) Indeed, Plato offers us a fictional account only of the
subject discussed—an important detail that would not have escaped
his audience. This does not necessarily imply that the meeting itself
should be taken as fiction.30 Even Pericles (495–429 bc), the leading
Athenian statesman at the time, reportedly attended such a reading
25 Cf. Hermann, “Parricide Or Heir? Plato’s Uncertain Relationship To

Parmenides.”
26 Even Plato’s observations in the Sophist—the source of the existential, non-
predicative take on Parmenides’ Not-Being—have a measured, tentative tone,
which occasionally goes out of its way not to stir up an unjust impression of
the Eleatic.
27 Palmer suggests that the Sophist aims to dissociate Parmenides from
some Sophists or eristics who hijacked his teachings (Plato’s Reception of
Parmenides, 16).
28 However, take note of Kahn’s cataloging of these issues (“On Platonic
Chronology,” New Perspectives on Plato, 93 –127). No less important is
Griswold’s response (“Comments on Kahn,” New Perspectives on Plato,
129–141). I find myself rather attracted to Griswold’s words of caution in
respect to obsessions with chronology, which might prevent us from appreciat-
ing Plato’s philosophical ingenuity and uniqueness (137, 139) or missing the
import of the dialogues’ fictive chronology (141). See also Thesleff ’s exhaustive
treatment of the issue (Platonic Patterns, 213ff.).
29 I have no reason to assume that the Theory of Forms, as we know it, is not
Plato’s own. At any rate, around the date of the alleged encounter, Socrates
was far too young to have done any sort of “preliminary” work on the subject.
30 Also Allen, Plato’s Parmenides, 74.
by Zeno, but whether this took place around the same time cannot
be determined.31 If the account is reliable, it is at best a separate con-
firmation that Zeno gave one or more public lectures, conceivably in
Athens, a distant 1,000 km by boat from his Eleatic home in southern
Italy, at an unspecified time. We certainly cannot infer from this that
the great Athenian statesman was one of the two unnamed attendees
(of a total of seven) placed by Plato at the event in question32 (129d),
although the idea is naturally tempting.33
As for the secondary characters of the dialogue, it is difficult to
second-guess Plato’s intentions for choosing these identities over others.
Based on actual people, whose inclusion may suggest some historical
significance that eludes us, the characters themselves do not appear
indispensable for the dialogue’s contents or aim, at least from our per-
spective. Yet the names of Pythodorus (a wealthy aristocrat and senior
general in the Sicilian campaign), Aristoteles (a prominent politician
and future member of the infamous “Thirty Tyrants,” whose bloody
rule terrorized Athens), and Antiphon (Plato’s half-brother), must have
all been well known to Plato’s intended audience. Perhaps using these
characters allowed Plato to create an aura of plausibility or authenticity
for the events he describes, if not for what actually transpired between
the interlocutors—provided, of course, that there was a historical basis
for such an encounter.
A Question of Motive
Why did Plato choose a young, inexperienced, and cocky Socrates
to defend what are arguably his most important teachings? And why
did Plato elect such a “reverend and awe-inspiring figure”34 as the
inscrutable Parmenides to be the dialogue’s namesake and lead, if only
to have him demolish, according to some, the shaky beliefs of young
31 Plutarch, “Pericles,” Lives, IV. 3. Cf. Bowra, Periclean Athens, 69–70.

32 Was one of the unnamed participants Callias, son of Calliades, mentioned
together with Pythodorus in Alcibiades, 119? See Ostwald, From Popular
Sovereignty, 313.
33 It would make more obvious one rather carefully concealed aspect of the
dialogue, namely the political. After all, four of the five main characters the
dialogue names have eventually suffered severe persecution, or even death,
due to their involvement in politics. A likely voluntary involvement we can
establish in the cases of Zeno, Pythodorus and Aristoteles, as opposed to
Socrates, whose involvement, by all accounts, was involuntary.
34 Plato, Theaetetus, 183e.
Socrates—particularly if these beliefs were a true representation of Plato’s

ideas? These aspects have been considered a ploy, perhaps the first act in
some grand scheme spanning other dialogues,35 that eventually would
allow Plato to turn the tables on “father” Parmenides by punching holes
in the Eleatic’s own theories, such as his claims regarding Being and
Not-Being.36 Thus Plato’s Sophist, which explores some of these issues,
is often considered the answer to the Parmenides.37 But why would Plato
seek to settle scores with himself? Parmenides was long gone before
Plato was born, and the Eleatic’s work, a hexameter Poem containing
the principal teachings, did not pose much of a threat. Indeed, Plato
borrows from the Eleatic mind-set as much as he can and, as confirmed
by other dialogues, remains unwavering in his high regard for the elder
thinker. Moreover, I see no reason for holding Plato culpable for the
infamous “parricide” alluded to in his Sophist, which has captured the
35 Taylor supposes that Plato’s Theory of Forms, as presented in Phaedo, was

subjected to unfair attacks by an “Eleatic quarter,” which he identifies with
the Megarians, and that Plato thought of paying them back by satirizing
their “spiritual father” (The Parmenides of Plato, 10–12, 128; cf. also Plato,
the Man and his Work). See also Burnet, Greek Philosophy I, 253–270, and
above all, cf. Koumakis for a listing of anti-Eleatic interpretations (Platons
Parmenides, 25). My take is more along the lines of Ryle, “Plato’s Parmenides”;
Beck, “Plato’s Problem in the Parmenides”; Gill, Plato: Parmenides (generally
as to Plato’s motive, but I reject her claim that the overall conclusion of the
Arguments is a false one [p. 106 on 166c]); Scolnicov, Plato’s Parmenides
(again on motive, but I disagree that Plato “murdered” the Eleatic in the
Sophist and that the weapon was readied in the Parmenides [8]); Wood,
Troubling Play (but I disagree with the proposal that the dialogue is an “ironic
comedy” [18]); and Rickless, Plato’s Forms in Transition. One of the best
works on the Parmenides is Palmer, Plato’s Reception of Parmenides (however,
I have some issues with his read of the historical Parmenides). Noteworthy is
Miller, Plato’s Parmenides, which is very deep and continues to give much
food for thought.
36 Cf. Taylor, The Parmenides of Plato, 10–11; Guthrie, A History of Greek
Philosophy (HGP) V, 135, 152–154; Cornford to a certain degree, Plato and
Parmenides, 106, 115, and throughout.
37 Cordero, G., “El diálogo Parménides dentro de la sistematización filosófica
de Platón”; Chroust, “The Problem of Plato’s Parmenides.” Guthrie supposes
that “to defeat the Sophist Parmenides himself must be called in question”
(HGP V, 136); see also Cornford, Plato and Parmenides, 240, 241–243, on
Parmenides’ purported limitations. For a thorough exploration of the issues,
see Wiggins, “Sentence Meaning, Negation, and Plato’s Problem of Non-
Being.” Cf. also Ambuel, Image and Paradigm in Plato’s Sophist, xiv–xv, 4,
6–7, 76, 94.
imagination of an earlier generation of scholars.38 Only a very narrow

reading of both the Sophist and the Poem of Parmenides can tempt us
to think that Plato has grounds, much less motive, to take issue with
the Eleatic’s claims, particularly with those that describe our inability
to intellectually grasp or convey “Not-Being.”39 But aside from the fact
that this is not the Achilles’ heel in Parmenides’ Poem40 (and we have no
indication that Plato thought that it was), there are no real justifications
to project a tit-for-tat sort of approach upon the Parmenides dialogue.41
In my opinion, Plato and Parmenides are far more in agreement on the
subject of Not-Being than conventionally thought.42
38 Plato, Sophist, 241d. See, for example, Guthrie, HGP V, 56, 123, 135–136;
also the more modern Turnbull, The Parmenides and Plato’s Late Philosophy,
139, and Scolnicov, Plato’s Parmenides, 8. Contra: Palmer thinks the Sophist’s
aim is to save Parmenides from improper Sophistic appropriation (Plato’s
Reception of Parmenides, 16). Cf. also Hermann, “Parricide Or Heir? Plato’s
Uncertain Relationship To Parmenides.”
39 Parmenides, DK 28B2.5–8, B6.1–2, B7.1–2, B8.8–9, B8.17. Plato, Sophist,
241d, 256e–259a, 260a–261a.
40 This I have argued more exhaustively elsewhere (To Think Like God; also in
“Parmenides’ Methodology: The Unity of Formula” and “Negative Proof
and Circular Reasoning”). The gist is that Parmenides allows Not-Being
to be expressed as a name in Mortal naming: “Which is why it has been
named all things, that mortals have established, persuaded that they are
true: ‘coming-to-be’ and ‘passing-away’, ‘to be’ and ‘not [to be]’, ‘to change
place’, and ‘to alter bright color’ (B8.38–41, reading onomastai).” With this,
Parmenides sidesteps the common criticism that while claiming that speaking
of Not-Being is impossible because there is no object to be expressed (B2.7–8,
6.1–2, 7.1–2, 8.17), he unwittingly objectifies Not-Being by speaking about
it. (See Plato, Sophist, 241d, 257b–c, 258b–259b; also demonstrated in the
Parmenides, 160d–e, 162a. Similarly, Gorgias, DK 82B3.) Obviously, if the
“IS” is all there is, it must serve as the object of naming, even if the name
used is “not-being.” So when Mortals say “to be” or “not to be,” they are
unaware that in both cases they have no choice but to point to the “IS.” Also,
IS NOT has no sēmata, so if sēmata are used, we must be pointing either to
Being, if the sēmata are homogeneous (see B8.3–6), or to Light and Night
in the Doxa, which have heterogeneous sēmata (B8.55–59). “IS NOT’s” lack
of sēmata absolves Parmenides of self-contradiction. But compare also the
general discussion of expressing “what is not” or “not-being” in Woodbury,
“Parmenides on Names,” “Parmenides on Naming by Mortal Men”; Furth,
“Elements of Eleatic Ontology.”
41 Contra Cornford, for whom the Second Part is a refutation of Eleaticism
(Plato and Parmenides, 106, 110, 115 passim). However, Cornford speculates
that Plato’s real target is Parmenides’ Monism (which begs the question).
42 Cf. Hermann, “Parricide Or Heir? Plato’s Uncertain Relationship To
Parmenides” and the forthcoming Plato’s Eleatic Project.
Moreover, it is Plato himself who seems to be putting his signature

Theory of Forms on trial. If this impression is accurate, the act alone
would elevate Plato well beyond the realm of the common philosopher,
marking him not only as terrifically courageous and sincere, but also
as a man without ego. Arguably driven by a selfless pursuit of truth,
Plato appears unworried that his carefully constructed demonstrations
may expose fatal flaws within his own theories. Indeed, he seems
determined to unmask as many such flaws as possible, even if his life’s
work is in danger of becoming somewhat damaged in the process. Or
so conventional wisdom tells us. But is this the whole picture? The
dialogue’s apparent impenetrability invites a few troubling questions.
Why did Plato write the Parmenides in the first place? Who was his
intended audience? Why would he attempt to deconstruct a theory
that constituted the heart of his teaching?
A Challenge of the Theory of Forms?

To attempt to answer the above questions as objectively as possible,
we need to first dispel suggestions that deem the Parmenides as some
sort of devious Eleatic attack of the Theory of Forms,43 and second, do
away with the idea that the Forms themselves were the target. Perhaps
the initially combative tone of young Socrates, which soon gives way
to increasingly defensive remarks, makes us think that the veracity
of Plato’s ideas are somehow the issue. But let us compare what the
dialogue’s Parmenides eventually concludes about the Forms—“if
someone . . . will not concede that there are Forms . . . he will destroy
the power of discourse” (135b–c)—with what the Eleatic says about
Socrates: “you are trying to define prematurely . . . each one of the
Forms, before you are properly trained” (135c). Clearly, Parmenides
has not the Forms in his sights but young Socrates’ rather amateurish
grasp of the topic,44 possibly made worse by his patronizing and self-
congratulatory attitude. If Plato conceived the Parmenides as a defense
of the Forms, then one aim could have been to shield them against a
crude, simplistic, and perhaps romanticized take on the subject.45 Plato
43 We have no grounds for accepting Taylor’s contention that Plato is paying

back the “Eleatic” Megarians for their purported attacks on the Theory of
Forms as preserved in the Phaedo (The Parmenides of Plato, 10–12, 111, 128).
44 Cf. Allen, Plato’s Parmenides, 111; Gill, Plato: Parmenides, 2, 50.
45 An attitude perhaps encouraged by an earlier, less thought-out Theory of
Forms, like the one offered, for example, in Phaedo (see Cornford, Plato and
Parmenides, 70, 100–101).
may have had in mind certain naïve misreadings of his Theory of Forms,
prevalent among some of his pupils. Perhaps in using young Socrates,
Plato gives us a glimpse of such a student—passionate, outspoken,
even impudent at times, but also a bit blue-eyed, disposed occasionally
to oversimplification. It has been argued that Socrates’ defense of the
Forms is subpar and that Plato would have been equipped with better
means to safeguard his Theory against Parmenides’ probing than the
arguments he provided for Socrates.46
However, as demonstrated by the Second Part of the dialogue, there is
far more at stake here than averting oversimplification and flippancy. On
a nuts-and-bolts level, the Theory of Forms seems to have undergone some
considerable growth and sophistication.47 It may even have matured to a
point that it could be subjected to the severest of tests, and the Parmenides
appears to be the venue Plato finds most suitable for carrying out such a
weighty and elaborate procedure. What better way to test your theories
than to expose them to the best and most widely accepted beliefs of your
forerunners and peers? What better candidate than the father of disproof,
Parmenides, to carry out such scrutiny? But Plato does not openly resist
the teachings of others; he quietly incorporates these, thereby submitting
them to the same test of intelligibility and consistency that he applies
to the Forms. He opts to combine various ideas without having to risk
singling out who said what to whom, or why—particularly if some of the
more contentious opinions were launched by his detractors. Moreover, it
would also defeat the purpose of an impartial examination of the issues
at hand—which, after all, is a test meant to trace the consequences of
hypotheses and ideas (135e–136c)—if he did not also expose the potential
fallibility of their various advocates by emulating, and even co-opting,
their own means. We also find the Second Part functioning as an almost
encyclopedic hodgepodge of Presocratic ideas.
As we become acquainted with the range of subjects covered by the
dialogue, we may be reminded of the words of Parmenides’ mentor,
the unnamed Goddess who plays such a central role in his Poem. She
pledged to him that he, Parmenides, would learn all things, both the
well-rounded Truth, and the opinions of mortals (B1.29), so that he
46 Cornford, Plato and Parmenides, 95; Allen, Plato’s Parmenides, 76–77, 111;
Meinwald, Plato’s Parmenides, 9–10; Weingartner, The Unity of the Platonic
Dialogue, 198.
47 Cf. Anscombe, “The New Theory of Forms,” 403, passim; Meinwald, Plato’s
Parmenides, 172; Rickless, Plato’s Forms in Transition, 4–8, 248–250 passim,
on the “high theory of forms” (although I disagree that the Parmenides may
prove that Forms are sensible things).
may not be bested by Mortal Belief (B8.61). In turn, as the Parmenides

dialogue demonstrates, Plato did not allow himself to be bested by the
varied speculations of his predecessors or peers. To borrow another
phrase from the Eleatic, Plato was no less a “man who knows” than
Parmenides himself (B1.3).
But Plato’s exceptional erudition should not come as a surprise. A
careful study of the Parmenides will soon reward the attentive scholar
with a treasure trove of meritorious Presocratic propositions that have
subtly entered Plato’s language. To leave these issues unaddressed would
have had dire cosmological and epistemological consequences for any-
one’s theories, even Plato’s. The works of his precursors had saddled him
with a legacy of restrictions and obligations that had to be responded
to—a liability that must have weighed heavily on Plato’s mind. As his
Theory of Forms matured, it seems to have been gradually exposed
to a broader and more discriminating audience. Anyone sufficiently
versed in Eleatic, Heraclitean, Pluralist, Sophistic, and even Socratic
teachings (Antisthenes or Aristippus, for example) would have been
capable of formulating quite pointed questions, perhaps eventually
raising the notion that Plato’s ideas were not more than half-baked.
Indeed, the latter is precisely the (wrong) impression one gets when, in
the First Part of the dialogue, young Socrates’ gushy adulation of the
Forms withers away under Parmenides’ unrelenting inquiries. Thus,
the subject choices made by Plato are not coincidental. Any serious
investigation of the Forms had to tackle these issues sooner or later.
Sensibles and Intelligibles
Whereas the Republic gives an imagistic discussion of the relation

of participant thing and form and the Sophist and Statesman give
a conceptual discussion of the interrelations of the forms, the
Parmenides alone gives a conceptual discussion of the relation of
participant thing and form.
—Mitchell Miller 48
One of the larger questions that figures prominently in scholarly

interpretation is how to relate the so-called two parts of the Parmenides
to each other. Are they to be seen as complementary, that is to say,
are the questions posed in the First Part actually addressed or even
resolved in the Second Part? Or are these parts, perchance, separate
works altogether, composed at different times for unrelated purposes,
and only joined afterward for some yet-to-be-determined reason? My
own surveys of the work—and of the commonly available interpreta-
tive studies that have examined it—have left me convinced that the
two parts are not only related, but that the Second Part constitutes
a successful attempt to illuminate the difficulties raised by the First,
providing us with some interesting if occasionally unsettling results.
We shall return to these results at the end of this survey, but first we
should take stock of the issues addressed. The questions that follow
seek to outline the central difficulties touched upon by the First Part
of the dialogue (or extrapolated from the conjectures of the Second
Part)—difficulties that must beset any theory that seeks to reconcile
the sensible with the intelligible:
• What is the actual nature of the relationship between things

that are entirely intelligible (like the Forms) and their physical
48 Miller, Plato’s Parmenides, 22.
17
correspondents?49 Is the relation itself like one or the other, or in a

different class altogether? Indeed, is the relation itself a Form, or,
to put it differently, are there “relational” or “relative” Forms? 50
• Are there Forms only for the individual (hence, tangible) things,
or are there also Forms for Forms? In other words, do concepts
that stand for a property shared by the individual things have,
in turn, concepts in common?51
49 Parmenides, 131a–133e, passim (particularly 133a5–6, with its call for a

cogent way to explain participation). See Aristotle, Metaphysics, 987b7–13,
for his critical remark: “but what the participation . . . of the Forms could be
they left an open question.”
50 Cf. Aristotle, Metaphysics, 990b15, and Parmenides, 133c. See Ross’ dis-
cussion, Plato’s Theory of Ideas, 170–171; Cornford, Plato and Parmenides,
72, 81. For an important investigation of Forms and relations, see Seel, “Is
Plato’s Conception of the Form of the Good Contradictory?” Particularly
noteworthy is this conclusion: “The unchangeable beings are of four kinds:
essences, mathematical entities, relations of essences and mathematical
entities and finally properties of relations. Both, the changeable beings and
the unchangeable beings, form a system of relations. However, while the
relations of the former are always changing, risk losing their balance and
are only subjects of belief, the relations among the latter are stable, balanced
and subjects of knowledge” (193–194).
51 Not a reference to the Third Man, which only tangentially addresses the
issue. Compare the general concepts investigated by the Second Part of the
Parmenides that do not stand for, or are shared by, the individuals, i.e., Forms
that say something of other Forms. Cf. also Republic, 596a, according to
which for every common name there is a Form (cf. also 435a), vs. Aristotle,
Metaphysics, 987b8–10: “the sensible things . . . are called after [the Forms];
for the multitude of things that have the same name as the Form exist by
participation in it.” (See Ross, Plato’s Theory of Ideas, 172–173.) Noteworthy
is Laws, 889e, with its allusions to the false belief (according to Plato) that
“the gods are artificial concepts, corresponding to nothing in nature, that
they are legal fictions.” Instead, they are to be treated the same as “beauty
and justice and all such vital concepts” (890b5–8), namely as existing, and
the law governing such things is, like them, “part of nature,” and not less
existing, being itself a “creation of reason” thus brought about by an equally
“powerful agency” (890d). (Cf. Ross, 175.) Seel makes an interesting case
regarding the Form of the Good and its relation to its “constituent Forms”
(“Is Plato’s Conception of the Form of the Good Contradictory?” 194).
Commenting on Philebus, 65a (the Good is apprehensible only as a union
of the Forms Proportion, Beauty, and Truth), Seel remarks: “The predicate
‘good’ cannot be applied to something that does not consist of relations, and
it can be applied to something only in so far as it consists of relations. Its role
is to distinguish good and bad relations or good and bad mixtures.”
• How, in Plato’s opinion, do Forms and participants “interact”?

Can one affect the other, and thus our understanding of both?
Or is our understanding of both only affected by the way we
think about them?52
• If the Forms are entirely absolved from change or from being
affected, how can there be any sort of link between them and
the things that do change or are affected?53 Isn’t a relationship,
any relationship, a two-way street?54
• Do Forms have actual existence, or are they mere thoughts of
things that have actual existence, that is, the sensibles?55
• Where can such Forms or Ideas be found?56 Are we to look for
them within the things themselves, or within the thinker of
such things, or even outside of both? After all, as young Socrates
observes in the dialogue, a genuine Form has to be “itself by itself,”
and being “in” something defeats this requirement (133c).57
• On the other hand, does not the very requirement “itself by
itself” already prohibit any sort of link or relationship with other
things, be they tangible participants or even other Forms?58 (And
52 See Parmenides, 130c–d, 132b5, 133b, 135a3, 135b5–c3, 135e5, 140a–b,

147c, 148a, 148c, 158e, 164b.
53 See also Plato, Philebus, 15b–c. Cf. Shorey, The Unity of Plato’s Thought, 36.
54 Compare some of the results of the “relational” Arguments of the Second Part,
particularly certain conclusions of Argument II which map the interaction but
also interdependency of One and Being. (142d–e, 143b–c, 144c, 145a, etc.)
55 Parmenides, 132b.
56 They certainly do not belong to “the things amongst us,” (133d–e, 134a–e).
The question, of course, is not meant to presuppose that Forms have a physi-
cal location. Yet location in a broader sense, such as occurrence, is one of the
possibilities Plato investigates; see “in our mind” (132b) or “in nature” (132d)
or the “in itself or in another” possibility addressed in 138a and 145b.
57 I am thankful to Mitch Miller for pointing out in a commentary on this
introduction that a Form has the capacity of remaining “itself-by-itself ”
regardless of whether it is associated with another thing, be this Form or
participant. However, Gerhard Seel has pointed out that “as the Second Part
of the Parmenides and the Theaetetus show, there are no Forms completely
isolated from other Forms.” I agree, but only in regard to whether or not
they are knowable. Forms in complete isolation cannot be known as Forms,
much less called by such a name—not even be claimed to exist. In my view,
Plato attempts to show that existential claims are not simply applicable to
the “itself-by-itself.” In other words, that such “Forms” cannot be associated
with the Form of Being as that would violate the “itself-by-itself” proviso.
58 “How can we bring the absolute into intelligible relation with the rela-
tive?” asks Shorey (Th e Unity of Plato’s Th ought, 36). But see also Fine
on the question of separation (Plato on Knowledge and Forms, 252–300),
would not a new twist on the theory—the so-called “interweav-

ing of Forms” as heralded by Plato’s Sophist dialogue—constitute
an annulment of the “itself by itself” provision?59)
• Which of the above possibilities creates the least difficulties for
a theory that must maintain that abstracts and tangibles are
somehow linked, yet irreconcilably different?60
• Furthermore, can something come to be from something that did
not come to be, and would not the act of coming-to-be suffice
to make both things come to be something that previously they
were not? That is, that which became generated came to be from
a former state of being not (yet) generated, and that which did
not come to be (because it already was) did nonetheless come
to be as something that it was not before, namely a generator of
some other generated thing?61
• What about truth? Do we have to accept that there are two
kinds of truth, one for the realm of the intelligible and divine,
and the other for the physical and mundane?62
• Or is there really only one truth, the intelligible kind, while what
passes for truth in this world “among us” is at best a watered-down
approximation, or at worst a complete falsehood and deception?63
• How can we, as denizens of the transitional realm, ever get to
recognize the one actual truth, and if we cannot, how can we
know or communicate anything?64
• And most important, if truth is such a restricted commodity, how
can we convince anyone of anything regarding the Forms—or
indeed, in regard to any other intelligible or abstract thing—if
particularly 276–278 on whether a Form has to be considered separate to

be auto kath’ hauto.
59 Sophist, 250eff., 253a, 254c, 259a.
60 Cf. 129d–130a, and 135e.
61 The question, as posed, also alludes to the distinction between existential
and predicative statements touched upon in the Sophist. See the Parmenides,
Argument I, II, and the Coda, for the “One, Being and Many Problem”
(commonly, if incompletely, stated as the “One vs. Many Problem”), viz. the
One in the absence of Others/Many (which also includes “Being” in the sense
that it is “other” than the “One,” 142e) has no Being (141e). Conversely, a
One that has a relationship with Others/Many also has a relationship with
Being.
62 Parmenides, 134a–b, d–e.
63 Xenophanes, DK 21B34; Parmenides’ Doxa. See also Xeniades, the
Corinthian.
64 Parmenides, 135b–c.
that person chooses either to deny that there are such things in
actual fact or argues that if Forms really existed, they are none-
theless unknowable by human beings?65 In either case, Plato, or
the adherents of his theory, could believe whatever they wanted
regarding the Forms, but they could never convince anyone else.66
The Parmenides proves that Plato took questions like the above very
seriously, and that he was acutely aware of the possibility that there
were unknown booby traps in his designs. Moreover, as attested by the
dialogue’s language and themes, Plato’s audience was highly sensitized
by a wide variety of ideas put forth by other thinkers, the Eleatics
included. They knew how to relate these issues to Plato’s precursors,
and what solutions, if any, had been offered so far.
The Question of a Preplatonic Legacy

In one form or another, the various difficulties listed above can be
found in the Parmenides or derived from it (this also applies, muta-
tis mutandis, to the Theaetetus and the Sophist). But some may raise
objections in view of the Presocratic context I have been alluding to,
claiming that the subjects I am addressing were exclusively Plato’s
own, and that they represent notions still unknown to those quaint,
antiquated Presocratics.67 And yet the idea that Plato had invented the
“intelligible” or “abstract” single-handedly, or that he was the first to
differentiate between tangible and intangible, while still quite popular,
cannot withstand a thorough examination. Not all of the Presocratics
were die-hard physikoi, cosmologists, or indeed materialists, certainly
not to the extent portrayed by 19th- to early 20th-century scholarship.
In light of the abundant discoveries that have distinguished the field
of Presocratic studies in recent years, the time has come to take a look
at Plato’s perhaps most enigmatic work from a new vantage point.
65 Parmenides, 133b, 135a.

66 For further questions in the same vein, see Shorey, The Unity of Plato’s Thought,
36.
67 Like other writers, I am obliged to use the designation “Presocratic” rather
loosely (taking my lead from Diels/Kranz). It remains an unfortunate mis-
nomer, particularly if understood as a chronological distinction. Among the
later “Presocratics” are several who were actually Socrates’ contemporaries.
Of those, some were born after Socrates and/or outlived him (e.g., Gorgias,
Democritus, Philolaus, Prodicus, Hippias, Archytas, etc.).
However, my intention has been to keep this commentary as brief as

possible; neither do I want to stack the deck at this point with too much
advocacy.68 I’d rather have the reader discover independently which
arguments, if any, reflect or expand upon Presocratic positions. Hence,
the subsequent listing of likely influences—or better yet, “incentives”
for why the Parmenides was written in the first place—should be taken
as an invitation to explore the material from different perspectives.
Obviously, all the Eleatics (including Xenophanes) were very much
on Plato’s mind as he wrote the Parmenides during a time when his
Theory of Forms appears to have been subjected to a barrage of extended
attacks and misrepresentations (carried out, arguably, by some of the
followers of both the Sophists and Socrates, who seem to have misap-
propriated a number of Eleatic ideas and used them against Plato’s
theories). Following a twofold strategy, Plato aims not only to inoculate
his work against the advances of his detractors but also to deprive them
of their ammunition.
It seems that for Plato, the teachings of Parmenides and his follow-
ers could pose a serious threat, but only when distorted by those who
pursue a dubious agenda. Plato cannot simply dismiss these teachings;
the respect he shows for the Eleatics is genuine. Plus, their reputation
among his contemporaries seems to have been very high; otherwise,
the Sophists would not have tried to hide their machinations under
the blanket of Eleatic authority.69 Thus, Plato takes the only path he
can under the circumstances, that is, to embrace the Eleatics while at
the same time seeking to liberate their ideas from those who would
misuse them.70 The Parmenides dialogue ends up being a kind of hom-
age to a general Eleatic mind-set; this is also attested by the prominent
role Plato assigns to the arguments of Zeno of Elea, the follower most
associated with Parmenides. In fact, he attributes the methodology used
in the Second Part exclusively to Zeno71 (135d–136c). It is also quite
evident that Plato does not refer to Eleatic positions from memory; he
must have reacquainted himself with both the Poem and Zeno’s book
shortly before assembling the dialogue.72
68 More detailed investigations and proofs are reserved for my forthcoming

book, Plato’s Eleatic Project.
69 As the Sophist attests.
70 See Palmer, Plato’s Reception of Parmenides, 16.
71 Cf. Miller, Plato’s Parmenides, 78: “presenting audience with Zenonian
contradictions.”
72 Taylor (The Parmenides of Plato, 5) contends that Plato had the text of Zeno’s
work before him when he wrote the Parmenides, particularly its Second Part.
A different kind of “Eleatic” work is Gorgias’ treatise on Not-Being,

which seems to play a role in some parts of the dialogue (e.g., Argument
V).73 Noteworthy also are Gorgias’ writings on Uncertainty, Opinion, and
Persuasion. In addition, there are echoes in the Parmenides of Protagorean
skepticism and relativism, and their detrimental effects upon thinking
and speaking. (It is plausible that Protagoras and his followers make up
part of the detractors of Parmenides’ teachings cited in 128c. Additionally,
the technē of matching up opposing arguments or logoi is subsumed by
Plato under dialectic.)74 There are also hints in the dialogue of Prodicus’
contradistinctions and synonymics in the work, and of Epicharmus’ jabs
at Eleatic teachings (including Zeno’s retorts). Then there are allusions
to Pythagorean number theory; Theodorus of Cyrene’s investigations of
irrational roots (“unlimited multitudes in which oneness is not present”);
Heraclitean Flux doctrine (in particular, its epistemological repercus-
sions); a Euclidean (as in Megarian) approach of attacking conclusions
rather than premises; and a peculiarly Megarian exploration of change.
The dialogue reveals also substantial affinities with the exercise known
as the Dissoi Logoi, or “Contrasting Arguments” (whose true author
has remained unknown). A few passages appear to make reference to
Anaxagoras’ “seeds,” while others call to mind the immanence of Forms
in tangible things (held also by Eudoxus); also Antisthenes’ predicational
(or nominal) monism and his rejection of Kinds or general concepts (a
critique that appears even more pronounced in Aristippus of Cyrene);
and, as it seems, Polyxenus’ version of the Third Man (as opposed to
Aristotle’s), meant as a critique of the Forms, and even Isocrates’ dismissal
of the pursuits of the Academy as “idle talk”—to name some of the ideas
that have much in common with the issues explored in the dialogue.75
All other thinkers whose ideas resurface in the Parmenides are not mentioned
by name.
73 For a well-argued exposé on Gorgias and the Parmenides, see Palmer, Plato’s
Reception of Parmenides, 108–117 (also 66–75). Palmer specifically associates
Gorgias with the result of Argument I (111–117). See Gorgias, DK 82B3, on
Not-Being; cf. Argument V (160cff., especially 162a–b) and B11 (Praise of
Helen) on the power of logos. Cf. also Brumbaugh, who associates Gorgias
with the fun-makers of Parmenides (128d) (Plato on the One, 21).
74 The Republic may constitute an exception, according to Seel, cf., “Is Plato’s
Conception of the Form of the Good Contradictory?”
75 Hippias, Xeniades, Democritus, Diogenes of Sinope, (the latter may be chrono-
logically problematic) have also been cited as possible influences and/or targets
of the Parmenides and Plato’s defense of the Theory of Forms. For Protagoras,
as to “relativism” and “subjectivism,” see Zilioli, Protagoras and the Challenge of
Relativism, 38–41 passim (for Protagoras’ attack of Oneness, 84, and reaction
As can be seen, not all of those enumerated can be classified as

“Presocratic” in the conventional sense, as treacherous as the term itself
against the Eleatic, 85). Antisthenes and Aristippus can also be counted among
the opponents of both Parmenides and Plato; see below. Cf. also Palmer, Plato’s
Reception of Parmenides, 104–105, 116n36, on the Sophistic “enemies” of the
Eleatics (also 102, on Zeno’s “competitive argument”). (In my view, this type
of argument is used by Plato in the Parmenides to draw unfavorable com-
parisons to Protagoras, if only to elevate Zeno’s exercise—and consequently,
his own approach—beyond mere eristic.) Further on Protagoras, see Fine,
Plato on Knowledge and Forms, 132–159, 198–202, 205–212 (Fine investigates
“relativism” and its relevance to Protagoras, settling on “infallibilism” as more
proper); also Corey, “The Greek Sophists: Teachers of Virtue,” 28–30, 38.
On Protagoras and “eristic,” see Ryle, Plato’s Progress, 113–115. On Prodicus,
Classen, “The Study of Language amongst Socrates’ Contemporaries,” 33–49;
Navia, Antisthenes of Athens, 57–58; Palmer, Plato’s Reception of Parmenides,
126–128; Corey, “The Greek Sophists: Teachers of Virtue,” 42–45. On
Epicharmus, cf. Diogenes Laërtius (D.L.) III, 1–17; Demand, “Epicharmus
and Gorgias,” 453–454, 459–463; McDonald, “Was Plato Acquainted with
the Writings of Epicharmus and Sophron?”; Álvarez, “Epicarmo e la Sapienza
Presocratica,” and “Epicharmus and Presocratic Wisdom,” an English synopsis of
the above. For Pythagoreanism and the Parmenides, see a Pythagorean approach
to the generation of numbers, cf. 144d–145a (also the “point-unit-atom” in
Argument VII, see Cornford, Plato and Parmenides, 241); cf. Scolnicov, “What
Is Pythagoras Doing in Plato’s Parmenides?” 197, and Plato’s Parmenides, 106;
and generally Brumbaugh, Plato on the One. For Theodorus of Cyrene and
irrational roots (cf. the wording in 158c and 164e with Theaetetus, 147d–148b);
on Heraclitean Flux and “relativity of properties,” see Adomenas, Nature in
Flux, 74–175, 179–180, 185. On Megarians, see Brumbaugh, Plato on the One,
21–22, 26, 37, 214; on the Megarian version of change through instantiation vs.
Parmenides, 152b–d4, see Owen, “The Place of the Timaeus in Plato’s Dialogues,”
324; on Megarian attacks of the Forms, see Stallbaum, (Apelt) Beiträge, 45;
Taylor, Parmenides of Plato, 10, 128; cf. also Plato, the Man and his Work. On
Anaxagoras, see also Aristotle, Metaphysics, 991a13; Miller, Plato’s Parmenides,
25 –28; Anaxagoras, DK 59B1, vs. Arguments VII and VIII, cf. Scolnicov,
Plato’s Parmenides, 38, 101; and Meinwald, Plato’s Parmenides, 14. On Eudoxus,
e.g., 131a–b, see Cherniss, Aristotle’s Criticism of Plato and the Academy, 525,
536; Schofield, “Eudoxus and the Parmenides,” 1–19; Brumbaugh, Plato on
the One, 19–21, 19n2, 23, passim (see also Miller’s note in Plato’s Parmenides,
222n55). However, Allan, D. J., suggests that Eudoxus is reacting to Plato
(“Aristotle and the Parmenides,” 143). Dancy argues that the “reaction ques-
tion” is irrelevant, as Eudoxus’ objections would not have been news for the
Academy (Two Studies in the Early Academy, 20–21). For Antisthenes, see
Aristotle, Metaphysics, 1024b32; Simplicius, in Cat. 208, 28–32; Guthrie,
HGP V, 114–115, 114n3–4, 115n1; Fuller, History of Greek Philosophy II,
103–105; Palmer, Plato’s Reception of Parmenides, 56–59, 171–172 (re: Argument
IV); Mohr, “Some Identity Statements in Plato,” 9; De Vries, Antisthenes
Redivivus, 64. On Aristippus, see Fuller, History of Greek Philosophy II, 123;
is; some thinkers can be linked to Socrates either as friends or erstwhile

followers. Plato, himself a pupil of Socrates, who has presented the Theory
of Forms as a natural consequence of Socratic teaching, may even have
felt particularly vulnerable against criticism from such quarters. After all,
he elects a young Socrates to be the gallant standard-bearer of the Theory
of Forms in the dialogue, so confident of its innate rightness that he is
unafraid to take on such luminaries of argumentation as Parmenides and
Zeno. But as it turns out, the dialogue’s Parmenides is himself an eloquent
defender of the Theory, deeper in his insight and more seasoned than his
young challenger (whose remarks typify an earlier, less-examined, draft
of the doctrine) because he has already figured out the Theory’s hidden
vulnerabilities. In a powerful summation of the issues, Parmenides warns
against those who “will not concede that there are Forms” because they
“will not have anything to turn thought to” that is a stable concept or
value, and in doing so they will “completely destroy the capacity of dis-
course” (135b–c). This verdict can be taken as a blistering attack against
the apparently still prevalent relativist, subjectivist and solipsist teachings
promulgated by the likes of Protagoras, Prodicus, Gorgias, Antisthenes
(who was a pupil of both Gorgias and Socrates), and Aristippus (who
followed Protagoras and Socrates, eventually borrowing from both).76
Guthrie, HGP III, 491–498; Navia, Antisthenes of Athens, 12, 13–14, 55–59,
61–63. On 142e–143a, and critique of all “atomism,” see Scolnicov, Plato’s
Parmenides, 101. Argument VII may also be an attack on the Atomists’ “unlim-
ited in multitude” take on atoms (cf. 164dff. and Aristotle, On Democritus
[Simplicius, Commentary on Aristotle’s On the Heavens, 2951–22 = 68A37 and
67A14], also Shorey, The Unity of Plato’s Thought, 34–35), similarly Cornford,
Plato and Parmenides, 240–241. On Polyxenus, Taylor has a unique read of
P.’s Third Man Argument, viz., not as a “regress” argument (“VI. Critical
Notices,” 354–355); noted by Kerferd, “School of Aristotle,” 130; Cornford
disagrees (Plato and Parmenides, 89, 101); cf. also, Chroust, The Problem of
Plato’s Parmenides, 393. On Isocrates, see Brumbaugh, Plato on the One, 22.
For Hippias, see Palmer, Plato’s Reception of Parmenides, 60–66, and Xeniades,
129. On Xeniades as Parmenides’ opponent, see Hermann, “Parmenides versus
Heraclitus?” On Diogenes, D.L. VI, 24, 52–54; Ross, Plato’s Theory of Ideas,
172; Navia, Antisthenes of Athens, 61. On Dissoi Logoi, see Ryle, Plato’s Progress,
213–214; Robinson, “The Dissoi Logoi and Early Greek Skepticism.”
76 Cf. D.L. VI, 1–2, on Antisthenes, and D.L. II, 65, on Aristippus. See Fuller,
History of Greek Philosophy II, 118–119, 120, 123–124; Navia, Antisthenes of
Athens, viii, 6–7, 11–14, 55–58, 61–63; Burnyeat, “The Material and Sources
I have included opponents of the Theory of Forms in my collection

of possible influences upon the Parmenides dialogue to certify that I am
not suggesting Plato indiscriminately embraced the theories in ques-
tion only because they show up in his investigations. Some he clearly
criticizes or disproves; others he relegates to his treatment on appear-
ances and opinion (see Arguments V and VII). What I am suggesting
is that, as a whole, the Parmenides is a reckoning with the past, but only
insofar as it is a settling of still pressing issues affecting the Theory of
Forms. It focuses on difficulties that have remained unresolved by other
Platonic dialogues, kept alive, perhaps, by continuous discussions in
and around the Academy. Thus, the Parmenides is a well-researched,
carefully thought-out work aimed at a sophisticated audience. Moreover,
this audience is well defined in the dialogue, portrayed as a select group
of thinkers who have already acquainted themselves very thoroughly
with the difficulties it investigates (135b).77 Arguably, this could include
Eudoxus and his pupils after their merger with the Academy. In any
case, Plato opts to challenge his most advanced readers, providing
them with a tapestry of interlocking arguments that rely heavily on
the threads others have spun but need not be specified individually by
name or contribution.
The above observations on external influences are not meant to
reduce Plato’s genius or originality. Nor do I want to take anything
away from his monumental epistemological and metaphysical contribu-
tion of the Theory of Forms. But Plato did not operate in a vacuum.
He drew on ideas that suited his purposes and constructed something
better with them, making the result original and distinct from the
elements that found their way into the doctrine. Some of the essential
notions that ended up in Plato’s Theory were explored not only by the
Presocratic thinkers—who wound up experimenting with the notion
of pure elements like fire, water, and air—but also by the Archaic
of Plato’s Dream,” 106, 108, 117, passim. See also Aristotle’s remarks in
Metaphysics, 1043b24–28, regarding Antisthenes and his followers and their
belief that “what” a thing is cannot be defined in the absence of some other
thing that was similar to it, and to which the first thing could be likened.
Suggestions of epistemological dependencies—decided by one’s approach—are
found in both parts of the Parmenides.
77 This may suggest that the dialogue is intended largely for the members of the
Academy; cf. Miller, Plato’s Parmenides, 21.
Poets who preceded them.78 True, these various endeavors were not yet
recognizable as explorations of the abstract. Nonetheless, in conjunction
with Xenophanes’ and Parmenides’ distinctions between what is divine
and true on one hand and what is mortal, ignorant, and deceptive on
the other, a historic division took hold, a division that was first and
foremost epistemological, and not natural or physical per se.79 If we add
to this a theory of mixture like Parmenides’ Doxa, which relies just as
heavily on the use of sēmata or signs (as in “distinguishing character-
istics”) to express a heterogeneous representation (logos) of changeable
things as does the homogeneous object of his reliable Aletheia part—not
to mention some of the unique functions Parmenides associated with
mind and thinking—and the ground is set for further inquiries into
things that may be exempt from physical influence or dependency.80
78 The image of pure qualities, for example, subsisting separately and unmixed
in an unworldly or divine realm, is as old as Homer, see Iliad, 24.529: “For
two urns are set on Zeus’ floor of gifts that he gives, the one of ills, the other
of blessings. To whomever Zeus, who hurls the thunderbolt, gives a mixed lot,
[530] that man meets now with evil, now with good” (trans. Murray, Iliad,
Books 13–24). Of course, I don’t imply that Homer considered the content
of the urns as abstracts. Noteworthy is also Aristotle’s remark on first cause:
“Pherecydes [of Syrus, early 6th century bc], and some others, make the
original generating agent the Best” (Metaphysics, 1091b6–10).
79 Certainly Aristotle did not consider the Eleatics “students of nature” (On the
Heavens, 298b18).
80 Compare Parmenides B8.2 with 8.55. See Reinhardt on Parmenides being
the first to introduce a theory of mixture, one that was essentially logical and
metaphysical, not physical, but which became the underpinnings of subse-
quent physical theories of mixture (Parmenides 71, 74, 75, 77). For mind
(νόος) and thinking, see B4.1, 8.34–35. Furthermore it was Aristotle who
equated Doxa’s Light and Night with physical principles, not Parmenides per
se (Metaphysics, 984b2, 986b30). I am aware of Theophrastus’ testimonia that
Parmenides associated death with cold and silence, etc., but the claim was
that a corpse perceived the cold because fire had left it. This is immediately
followed by the statement that Parmenides taught that “everything had some
measure of knowledge” (DK 28A46). This is one further example that shows
that Parmenides’ teachings were meant primarily as epistemological observa-
tions. Noteworthy also is Anaxagoras’ adoption of mind as a causal principle
that was independent, unmixed, alone, and by itself, and accordingly non-
material—requirements that could also apply to Plato’s Forms (Anaxagoras,
DK 59B12). Cf. Guthrie on Anaxagoras’ lack of adequate vocabulary to
express Mind’s non-material existence, which necessitated him to describe it
negatively as not being matter (HGP II, 277).
The Being of One
The “Simple”: A Naked Concept

The term “itself by itself” has a central role in the Parmenides. As
in other dialogues, it often appears in conjunction with the term for
Form.81 But in the Parmenides, more than in the other dialogues, it is in
effect a technical term by which Plato aims to distill or isolate the very
essence of his object of inquiry. The idea is to behold a concept alone
in its purest, totally unmodified state—not qualified, not dependent,
not related to anything: naked. If we apply this requirement to a Form,
we must assume we are dealing with the Form completely on its own,
that is, without taking into consideration the question of participation
or relations to other Forms. A telling reference for this approach can
be found early in the dialogue, when Parmenides addresses young
Socrates for the first time:
Do you yourself draw the distinction you speak of, separat-

ing on one hand certain Forms by themselves, and on the
other the things that partake of them? And do you think that
“likeness” itself is something [entirely] separate from the likeness
that we share? And also “one” and “many” and all the [other]
things you heard just now from Zeno?
And of the following, too, there is a Form, itself by itself,
of “just” and “beautiful” and “good” and everything of that
kind? (130b; emphasis added)
81 Cf. Plato, Symposium, 211a–b; Timaeus, 51c–d.
29
Accordingly, the Form of Likeness “itself by itself” is distinguished

as being different from a participated or shared likeness.82 In the first
case, there are no relations whatsoever; in the second, there are relations
both to oneself and to other things.83 As the subject is broadened by the
dialogue’s Parmenides to include other Forms, the ensuing back-and-
forth discussion with Socrates aims to emphasize in the strongest way
the “itself by itself” distinction. It is treated like a state entirely different
from the state of being shared. The latter is sometimes referred to as
a state that we share “among us,” which can also include things that
belong to all of us. See, for example, the passage around 134b, where
Parmenides concludes: “Wouldn’t the knowledge amongst us be of the
truth that is amongst us?” (See also the entire exchange in 134c–e.)
How do we do justice to something that is in a state of not being
shared by or related to anything? In other words, how do we describe
a concept that cannot be associated with anything else, not even with
a contrary—indeed, not even with itself? How can we say what it is,
if we cannot even say that it is? By saying that it is, obviously, we are
relating it to some other thing, to a concept other than it, in this case,
to the concept of “existence” (142c–d). As the appropriate arguments
in the Second Part show time and again, a concept “itself by itself”
is to be sought “by itself,” and not in conjunction with anything else,
not even together with the concept of “being.”
The term “simple” can be useful when speaking of the “itself by
itself.”84 When Plato mentions “beauty” or “justice” or “the good”
82 Mohr suggests that “a form is the thing that is ‘itself its very self to itself’”
(“Some Identity Statements in Plato,” 7).
83 Similarly, Natorp, Plato’s Theory of Ideas, 233, 235, 236–250 passim; Liebrucks,
Platons Entwicklung zur Dialektik, “Über den Parmenides,” 169–255, and
“Zur Dialektik des Einen und Seienden in Platons Parmenides,” 249, 251,
253; Bröcker, Platons Gespräche, 410, 412, 417, 430, 433, 435, 439. Natorp,
Liebrucks and Bröcker distinguish the One of the Arguments with “negative
results” as “without reference,” or “non-relational,” in contrast to the One of
the Arguments with “positive results,” where it is “with reference,” or “rela-
tional.” This is also the main point on which I differ with Meinwald (Plato’s
Parmenides, especially 46–75). I do not reject Meinwald’s “pros heauto” and
“pros ta alla” distinctions per se, but I think that they both apply to the object
of Argument II and its like, not to the object pursued by Argument I, et al. See
also Mohr for a rebuttal of Meinwald’s position (“Some Identity Statements
in Plato: An Old Puzzle in the Sophist and a New Sense of ‘To Be’”).
84 See Miller’s Plato’s Parmenides for a similar terminology and the notion of
an isolated One in Argument I. Palmer calls such a “simple” a “predica-
tional Monad” (Plato’s Reception of Parmenides, 252). Cf. also Mohr, “Some
The Being of One 31
in this way, he attempts to secure each notion at its most plain, most
unadulterated form, that is, independent of another concept. A “simple”
is the opposite of a “compound” or “complex.”85 It is not “whole” like
the concept of “One Being” in the Parmenides, which is made up of two
individual concepts or “parts,” namely the concept of “One” and the con-
cept of “Being” (compare 142d–e). The object of Argument I represents
a perfect example of such a “simple”: the idea of “One,” “itself by itself,”
unadorned or accompanied by anything else (141e–142a).86 This result
stands in opposition to the object obtained by Argument II. The latter
is not a singular but a compounded concept, the aforementioned “One
Being,” whose constituents are “One” and “Being” (142b–e, 143a–c,
144b).
My juxtaposition of the terms “simple” and “complex” in this par-
ticular context may remind some readers of a passage in the Theaetetus
known as “Socrates’ Dream.”87 In the passage, Plato has Socrates
expound a theory that tries to differentiate between those things that
can be expressed by means of a logos, or a reasoned account,88 and those
that cannot. Of the “simple” according to this theory, nothing can be
said (except its name), because any account of it would have to employ
additional concepts to describe it, concepts that, as themselves, are dif-
ferent from the “simple” concept we are trying to capture “as itself.”
On the other hand, “an account,” the Dream explains, is “essentially
a complex [literally, “an interweaving”] of names” [ὀνομάτων γὰρ
συμπλοκὴν εἶναι λόγου οὐσίαν].
There has been some debate among scholars whether the theory
explored by the Dream originated with Plato, or whether he borrows
here from the Sophistic canon, specifically from Antisthenes’ teach-
ings.89 That question I cannot resolve. However, the passage itself can be
Identity Statements in Plato,” 9. McCabe distinguishes an “austere mode”

for the “simple,” and a “generous mode” for the “complex” (“Unity in the
Parmenides,” 39).
85 Miller makes similar distinctions (Plato’s Parmenides, passim). See also Ryle,
Plato’s Parmenides, 119–120.
86 See also 143a, μόνον καθ᾽ αὑτὸ, “all alone by itself.”
87 Theaetetus, 201d10–202c6.
88 I think it’s a bit premature to understand logos as a “definition” of sorts.
89 See Burnyeat, “The Material and Sources of Plato’s Dream,” Phronesis 1970,
101–122; McDowell, Plato: Theaetetus, 234, 237. Guthrie, HGP V, 114;
Chappell, Reading Plato’s Theaetetus, 204–205. Compare Aristotle’s account
of Antisthenes’ teachings vs. the claims in “Socrates’ Dream” (Metaphysics,
1043b28). Socrates presents the doctrine only as advanced by some unspeci-
fied other “people.”
of interest to the researcher of the Parmenides, or indeed the Sophist, as

some of its specifics may parallel certain conclusions in both dialogues.
There are a few caveats to be considered:
1. The “simple,” as presented in the Dream, is not treated as a

Form, or even a concept, but specified as the “primary element”
[πρῶτον στοιχεῖον] in the “composition” of things.
2. The “primary element” in the Dream can be named, while
the approach in the Parmenides is at least as radical as that of
the Sophist, where a thing and its name are shown to be very
different things.90 Thus, in the Parmenides, the “simple” must
relinquish its name.91
3. The “primary element” is said to be perceivable by the senses,
while “simple” in the Parmenides is not an object of perception.
Aside from these differences, the parallels between the “element”

in the Theaetetus and the “itself-by-itself” object in the Parmenides are
striking, and it is justified to classify both as “simples.” Here is the
passage in question:
Socrates: In my dream, too, I thought I was listening to people

saying that the primary elements, as it were, of which we and
everything else are composed, have no account. Each of them,
in itself, can only be named; it is not possible to say anything
else of it, either that it is or that it is not. That would mean
that we were adding being or not-being to it; whereas we must
not attach anything, if we are to speak of that thing itself
alone. Indeed we ought not to apply to it even such words
as “itself” or “that,” “each,” “alone,” or “this,” or any other
of the many words of this kind; for these go the round and
90 Plato, Sophist 244d. This suggests that either the Parmenides and the Sophist
are more thought-out than the Theaetetus, meaning that they may have been
composed at a later date, or that the theory preserved in “Socrates’ Dream”
originated with someone other than Plato. Be that as it may, all chronologi-
cal observations are first and foremost speculation. Nor have we any way of
knowing whether Plato was the author of the theory, and thus whether it was
his idea to maintain the object’s connection to its name, without realizing the
difficulties involved.
91 I do not agree with Ambuel that while in both the Sophist and the Parmenides
the names are removed, they are removed on different grounds (Image and
Paradigm, 100).
The Being of One 33
are applied to all things alike, being other than the things to
which they are added, whereas if it were possible to express
the element itself and it had its own proprietary account, it
would have to be expressed without any other thing. As it is,
however, it is impossible that any of the primaries should be
expressed in an account; it can only be named, for a name
is all that it has. But with the things composed of these, it is
another matter. Here, just in the same way as the elements
themselves are woven together, so their names may be woven
together and become an account of something—an account
being essentially a complex of names. Thus the elements are
unaccountable and unknowable, but they are perceivable,
whereas the complexes are both knowable and expressible
and can be the objects of true judgment.92
Among the important considerations that surround the Dream’s

“simple” is the proviso that no account can be given of it. The Parmenides
advances the same claim for the “itself-by-itself” object explored, for
example, in Argument I (142a). Indeed, the Dream not only emphasizes
that an account, or logos, cannot express the “simple,” but the logos itself
is portrayed as the contrary of the “simple,” defined as a “complex of
names,” a formulation that attracted Wittgenstein’s attention.93 This
differentiation allows us to distinguish two disparate states for our
object, either as inexpressibly alone, or as communicable in concert
with other concepts. In this section I have tried to focus and thoroughly
isolate the first option so that we may be successful in distinguishing
it from the second. To train the ability to tell the two apart is one of
the aims of the exercise in the Second Part of the dialogue.
What specific means does Plato employ to arrive at the “simple”?
He makes use of the criteria introduced by Parmenides as part of his
method. With an eye to Parmenides’ Poem, Plato must first address
92 Theaetetus, 201d10–202b8 (Burnyeat, Plato: Complete Works, ed. Cooper,

trans. Levett, revised). See Burnyeat, “The Material and Sources of Plato’s
Dream,” 101–122; Bostock, Plato’s Theaetetus, 202ff., and Chappell, Reading
Plato’s Theaetetus, 203ff.; Sedley, The Midwife of Platonism, 153–168, for
analysis.
93 See Wittgenstein’s detailed examinations of some of the issues raised in
Socrates’ Dream, particularly of the terms “simple” vs. “complex” (Philosophical
Investigations, 21–25, §§ 46–51). Wittgenstein likens the “primary elements”
mentioned by Plato to his “objects” in the Tractatus Logico Philosophicus, or
Russell’s “individuals” (§ 46).
and then remove all of Parmenides’ sēmata—“ungenerated,” “whole,”

“immovable,” “complete,” “now,” and so on—from his “One,” until
none are left but the bare concept.94 However, this bareness is absolute—
deprived of all relations, including to itself; all manner of participations,
whether to others, or of others to it; all identity; and all names, making
any sort of knowledge or opinion of it impossible. This is the gist of
what transpires in Argument I and is repeated in other corresponding
Arguments, also aimed at obtaining the “simple” (IV, VI, VIII), if only
to show that, without relations, it remains inconceivable.
A Question of Method: “Neither/Nor,” “Both,”

“Either,” and “Or”
Don’t we know that the Eleatic Palamedes [Zeno] has such an
art of speaking [τέχνῃ λέγοντα] that the same things appear
[φαίνεσθαι] to his listeners to be both like and unlike, both
one and many, both at rest and in motion? 95 (emphasis added)
In light of the strategy pursued in the Second Part of the Parmenides,

the passage above is not to be taken as Plato’s censure of Zeno of Elea,
whom he playfully associates with the mythical Palamedes, the cunning
arch-nemesis of Odysseus,96 but as an affirmation of respect. To make
the same thing appear “both like and unlike,” “both one and many,”
“both at rest and in motion” renders precisely the blueprint observed in
the relational Arguments II, III, V, and VII. What may have originally
arisen out of a refutative approach developed by the Eleatics—an early
evocation of the Principle of Non-Contradiction—turns in Plato’s hands
into a veritable exhibition of how Forms can “interact” or “associate” with
each other, referred to also as the “weaving together of Forms” [τῶν εἰδῶν
συμπλοκὴν] in the Sophist 97 (reminiscent of the “interweaving of names” in
the Theaetetus, above). Reconciling Heraclitus with the Eleatics, Plato turns
mutually exclusive opposites into compresent complementaries, without,
94 All the Parmenidean sēmata can be found in the Arguments of the Second
Part, except for “continuous” (B8.6, συνεχές) and, naturally, hen or One,
which is the object of inquiry.
95 Phaedrus, 261d.
96 Pauly’s Realencyclopädie, 2500ff.; Der Neue Pauly 9.
97 Sophist, 254bff., 259e. Cf. Ross, Plato’s Theory of Ideas, 104–105, 112–114;
Palmer, Plato’s Reception of Parmenides, 180–181.
The Being of One 35
however, evoking the otherwise unavoidable relativism.98 This is a truly

Herculean feat that is utterly essential if we are to have an epistemologically
sound interplay of Forms or concepts. If we must have Forms associate,
even contradicting ones, in order to provoke or preserve understand-
ing—without, on the other hand, losing them in the process—then this
“interweaving of Forms” is the only conceivable solution. Obviously, not
only do the sensible things have to partake of a multitude of Forms, but
the Forms themselves also have to be associated in some manner with other
Forms, including their opposites, if they are to be intellectually grasped
and expressed. The clues to a proper epistemological differentiation and
association are found in Parmenides’ Poem. Essentially, both the differ-
ences and similarities in approach between Parmenides and Plato can be
reduced to these four fundamental aspects:
1. In the Reliable Account (the Aletheia) of the Poem, Parmenides

associates corresponding—thus non-opposing—sēmata or
characteristics with his object of inquiry, while rejecting char-
acteristics that are in conflict. (Primarily B8)
2. In the Doxa (the Opinions of Mortals), on the other hand,
Parmenides associates two sets of contradictory sēmata or char-
acteristics—each set belonging to a separate principle—with
“all things” enumerated by the Mortal Account. The principles
themselves stand in opposition to each other, and are named
Light and Night.
3. In Arguments I, IV, VI, and VIII, Plato shows that he can
accept neither the sēmata of Parmenides’ Reliable Account, nor
their opposites for his object of inquiry. His demonstrations
reveal that, as distinct concepts, all other characteristics are
incompatible with the concept of “One,” if the latter is sought
“itself-by-itself,” thus in its “simple” or unassociated state.
4. In Arguments II, III, V, and VII, however, Plato associates all
Parmenidean sēmata—together with their opposites—with
98 I am not suggesting that Plato considers that the Principle of Non-Contradiction

does not apply to the realm of the Forms. And yes, we should distinguish
participation from “interweaving.” Gerhard Seel advised me to clarify my
position on this point, adding: “Contradictory Forms are interwoven, because
they stand in the relation of contradiction, but they do not participate one in
the other, because one cannot be predicated of the other.” I obviously agree
in principle. Yet Plato is not always consistent in his terminology, describing
“One” and “Being,” for example, not specifically as “interwoven” when they
make a “whole,” but as partaking to a “whole” as its “parts.” (142d, 144e)
his object of inquiry, by approaching it not as a “simple” this

time around, but as a “complex” that is both participating and
participated in. It is the object of inquiry viewed through the
lens of its associations.
In this context it is best to keep in mind the logical relations of predi-

cates at issue in these demonstrations, that have as a consequence the
distinction of “either/or,” “neither/nor,” and “both.”99 If two predicates
are contradictory then only one can be, i.e., either the one or the other,
and accordingly, only one is to be predicated of a given subject; if two
predicates are contrary, it is possible that neither is predicated of a given
object, but it is impossible that both are predicated of it. If two predicates
are compatible with each other, both can be predicated of a given object.100
Let’s reverse the above order and take up the Arguments of the
Parmenides first in our exemplification, where we find Plato’s methodology
systematically worked out and conspicuous. Accordingly, for the “itself
by itself” Arguments (point 3, above) only “neither/nor” is applicable
regarding the sēmata and their contraries. This means that our object
can “neither” be associated with a particular characteristic “nor” with
its opposite. Here is a sampling of conclusions taken from Argument I:
If the one is to be one, it will neither be a whole nor have

parts. (137d)
The one has neither beginning nor end, it is limitless. (137d)
It is neither straight nor round. (138a)
The one, then . . . is neither at rest nor in motion. (139b)
(emphasis added)
However, in Plato’s “relational” Arguments (point 4, above) the

determinant is “both”:
Whatever is one both is a whole and has a part. (142d)

The “one being” is somehow both one and many, both whole
and parts, both limited and unlimited in multitude. (145a)
The one must be both in itself and in another. (145e)
99 Compare with Shorey, who singles out “both and neither,” linking them to
the eristic demonstrations of the Euthydemus (The Unity of Plato’s Thought).
100 I am grateful for Gerhard Seel’s concise advice on these clarifications.
The Being of One 37
The one, since it itself is always in itself, as well as in some-

thing different, is necessarily always both in motion and at
rest. (146a) (emphasis added)
I have composed a diagram at the end of this section, that shows

the organization and employment of sēmata according to the “neither/
nor,” “both,” and “either/or” distinctions.
By contrast, Parmenides’ approach is significantly different from
Plato’s in what it does with the sēmata. Fragment 8 of the Poem shows
that all the sēmata of the Reliable Account (point 1, above) can be
predicated of the object of inquiry, and their opposites cannot. Here
the “either/or” distinction applies. Generally, when searching for the
appropriate characteristics for our object of inquiry, we can class it
either as ungenerated or as generated; either as imperishable or as per-
ishable; either as complete or as incomplete; either as immovable or as
movable, and so on. But, according to the Reliable Account, only the
first series of sēmata can be predicated, that is, the object of inquiry is
“ungenerated,” “imperishable,” “complete.”
Parmenides’ Doxa however (point 2 above), is governed by a different
rule, one that more closely matches Plato’s “relational” Arguments, as
we find the sēmata in question can be “both” predicated of the object.101
In Parmenides’ words:
[Mortals] have differentiated contraries in form and assigned

sēmata to them apart from each other. (B8.55)
Yet since all things have been named Light and Night and
these according to their powers [have been assigned] to
one and the other, all is full of Light and obscure Night
together, both equally, since nothing has a share in neither.
(B9, emphasis added)
The Doxa, in much the same way as the relational object in Plato’s
corresponding Arguments (II, III, V, VII), must reconcile certain sets of
contraries with each other. The difference is that in Parmenides’ Poem,
the doxastic sēmata constitute an enumeration of physical properties, for
example, “fieriness,” “lightness,” “denseness,” “darkness,” “heaviness,”
101 At least that is the mortal opinion, which, obviously, is as logically flawed as
it is utilitarian.
“hot,” “cold,” and so on,102 whereas in Plato’s Parmenides, as we can see,

the sēmata used are those of Parmenides’ Reliable Account, albeit together
with their contraries (which, naturally, have no place in Parmenides’
homogeneous approach).103 However, in both cases, (i.e., Doxa and the
Second Part) the sēmata maintain compresence without mutual annihila-
tion, observing an uneasy truce that seems always on the verge of collapse.
We must also note that in the case that “both” sēmata are predicable, Plato
goes beyond a mere juxtaposition of two contraries and includes whenever
applicable a third characteristic. So, for example, regarding the question
of “shape” in Argument II, Plato cites “beginning,” “end,” and “middle”
(145a); in regard to “size,” he brings up “large,” “small,” and “equal” (151b).
102 Parmenides B8.56–59. On “hot” and “cold” in Parmenides, see Theophrastus,

De Sensibus, 1.3 (DK 28A46).
103 “Ungenerated,” B8.3, and 138e, for example; or, “Whole,” B8.4, 8.22, 8.38,
and 137c; or “Immovable,” B8.4, 8.38, and 139a; or “Complete,” B8.4, 8.32,
and 137c, 157e. Indeed, practically all the Parmenidean sēmata are used in
the Second Part. (See note 94.)
The Being of One 39
The Diagram of the Characteristics (se–mata) of “One”

and “Others”
“Simple” One (Itself by Itself)
is
NEITHER/NOR
Like/Unlike
In Rest/In Motion
The Same/The Other
The Whole/A Part
One/Many
In Itself/In Another
An Object of Knowledge/Opinion
(Arguments I IV VI VIII)
Parmenidean Sēmata BEING Doxastic Contraries

EITHER OR
One Many
Like Unlike
Rest Motion
Same Other
Whole Part
Not-Becoming Becoming
Object of Knowledge Object of Opinion
In Itself In Another
Limited Unlimited
(The Reliable Account)
“Complex” One—“One Being” or “One That Is”

is
BOTH
Like/Unlike
In Rest/In Motion
One/Many
The Whole/A Part
The Same/The Other
Limited/Unlimited
In Itself/In Another
Object of Knowledge, Opinion, Perception
(Arguments II III V (appear VII))
(“The Things Amongst Us”/Doxa)
The Eight Arguments plus Coda:
Results of the Survey
Argument I: The One as Simple

The first exercise demonstrates that the object of inquiry—in our
case, this is hen or “One” (also “Unity”)—when examined “itself-
by-itself,” has no property at all. It should not—indeed it cannot—
be predicated as having relations to anything—not even to itself.104
Consequently, it has no place in an ontological hierarchy, as it is not
even relatable to Being. It is the ultimate ultimate that may serve when
unitized with Being—as in Argument II—as the “Unit of Is” crown-
ing the ontological hierarchy. But when approached itself-by-itself, we
cannot even say that the object of inquiry is a “Unity” or “One” or
anything, because the “ is” in this proposition would allow Being in
through the back door. Lacking relations to Being, it does not persist
through time; thus, the object of inquiry without reference must be
treated as atemporal. Whatever we may claim “it” is—due to the inad-
equacies of our language, which force us to use a referent—“it is” not
an “is” in respect to Being. Moreover, “being” neither Like nor Unlike,
Same nor Other than itself or another, renders it independent of an
ontological or epistemological framework, because any one of these
cases would denote it as something that has relations and therefore is.
In summary, by not being the object of comparison or reference, it is
not an object of knowledge, identity, name, number, sense, or opinion.
If we allow the object of inquiry to have relations to itself, we make it
be something for self, and thus we allow it to associate with Being. Yet
104 Contra Meinwald, Plato’s Parmenides, 46–75. (See note 83.)
41
according to our exercise, whenever we say that something is, or has

being—as long as we differentiate Being as a different concept than
the concept we are investigating—we are speaking of something that
has relation to another concept, and “is” therefore not “itself-by-itself.”
(See, for example, the complementary observations in Argument II.)
What has relation always has it mutually, and it is only this requisite
condition that denotes something as “being.”
Here are the results of the survey of Argument I, that is, the con-
sequences that ensue for the “One” in regard to itself, when we seek to
investigate it as a “simple” or “itself-by-itself” by differentiating it from
everything else. (The qualifier is “neither/nor,” e.g., neither at Rest nor
in Motion, neither Like nor Unlike.)
Consequences derived from the proposition “if it is one” (137c):
1. The one would be something other than many. (137c)

2. It will neither be a whole nor have parts. (137d)
3. It would neither have a beginning, nor an end, nor a middle.
(137d)
4. It is limitless. (137d)
5. It is without shape. (137d)
6. The one is not anywhere, neither in itself nor in another. (138b)
7. The one is immovable in regard to any kind of change/motion.
(139a)
8. The one is neither at rest nor in motion. (139b)
9. The one cannot be different than nor the same as itself or
another. (139e)
10. The one can be neither like nor unlike either another or itself.
(140b)
11. It will never be equal to itself or another, nor be greater or less
than itself or another. (140d)
12. It has neither something to do with time, nor is it in any time.
[atemporal] (141d)
13. The one in no way is. (141e)
14. It is not even in such a way as to be one, for if it were, it would
already be that which is and would partake of being. (141e)
15. The one neither is ‘one’ nor ‘is’ [in any temporal sense]. (141e)
16. It is not named nor spoken of, nor is it the object of opinion
or knowledge, nor does anything among the ‘things that are’
perceive it. (142a–143a)
Argument II: The One as Complex—A Weaving Together

of Concepts
This exercise reverses the above results. Instead of isolating the
concept epistemologically “itself-by-itself,” it is associated with other
concepts, concepts that allow or facilitate relevance. The “one that
is”—if it “is” to be “one”—must be two things: One and Being. The
object of inquiry has relations to everything that is, meaning everything
that has a place in the hierarchy of Being. To have or not have relations
is the key. The “one with relations to being” (142e) represents the Unit
of Is at the head of this and any other hierarchy, whether of knowledge,
name, number, or anything else. It is the unity in virtue of which all
other things are, and are also unities. Hence, it also facilitates plurality.
It is like itself because it is a unity, and unlike itself because it is also in
others, as a unity. Whatever it is, it is in every respect what Being is,
but Being can only be expressed as it. It is the source for Identity and
Difference for every echelon of the ontological hierarchy.
In summary, this “weaving together” of “One” and “Being” facilitates
the interweaving of additional concepts such as “Other,” “Difference,”
“Whole,” “Parts,” “Both,” “Pair,” “Many,” “Multitude,” “Number,”
“Twice,” “Thrice,” “Odd,” “Even,” “Unlimited,” and so forth (142dff.).
But it all begins with the attempt to elicit the “Unit of Is” from a fusion
of Oneness and Being.
Here are the results of the survey of Argument II, that is, the con-
sequences that ensue for our object of inquiry, “the One,” when it takes
part in Being. (The qualifier is “both,” e.g., both Like and Unlike, both
in Motion and at Rest.) (Of course, these contrary predicates should
be understood as holding in different regards, otherwise the Principle
of Non-Contradiction would be transgressed.)
Consequences derived from the proposition “if one is” (142b):
1. “One being” constitutes a whole, of which “one” and “being”

are its parts. (142d)
2. Each of the two parts also possesses oneness and being, that is,
they are composed of at least two parts, and endlessly, whatever
part comes to be always possesses these two parts, since oneness
always possesses being and being always possesses oneness. (142e)
3. Since by necessity [the “one that is”] always comes to be two,
it is never one. (142e)
4. “If one is,” there must also be number. If there is number, there
would be “the many,” and an unlimited multitude of “things
that are.” (144a)
5. The “one being” is somehow both one and many, both whole
and parts, both limited and unlimited in multitude. (145a)
6. It would have a beginning, an end, and a middle. (145a)
7. It would partake of some shape. (145b)
8. It must be both in itself and in another (i.e., it has location).
(145e)
9. It is necessarily both in motion and at rest. (146a)
10. It is different both from the others and from itself, and the
same as the others and as itself. (147b)
11. It is both like and unlike the others, and both like and unlike
itself. (148c–d)
12. It is both in contact and not in contact, both with the others
and with itself. (149d)
13. It is equal to, and larger and smaller than, both itself and the
others. (151b)
14. It will be equal, and more, and fewer, in number than itself
and the others. (151e)
15. Something could belong to it and be of it (i.e., properties,
characters). (155d)
16. There would be knowledge and opinion and perception of
it; a name and an account belong to it, and it is named and
spoken of. (155d–e)
17. As many of such [attributes] happen to pertain to the others,
they also pertain to the one. (155e)
The Coda (151e–157b):

The Coda at the end of the investigation of Argument II lays out
an additional survey of the temporal ramifications that ensue when the
object of inquiry is made complex with an (existential) conceptualiza-
tion of Being. The objective is to account for transitions, including the
transition between a non-ontological and an ontological state, meaning
it is ontological when in time, and non-ontological when atemporal.
(Thus, in this exceptional case, the qualifier is “neither/nor” and “both,”
and, accordingly, we are mapping out the object of inquiry both with
and without relations, that is, “with relations” equals “in time,” “with-
out relations” corresponds to “not in time.”) Furthermore, we have the
proper elicitation of the “instant” as the gateway to change.
Consequences for the One from a temporal/atemporal perspective,

including if it Comes-to-Be One and Ceases-to-Be One, that is, if it
changes from Being One to Not-Being One:
1. The one partakes of time if it partakes of being. (152a)

2. The one itself is and comes to be older and younger than itself
and the others, and it neither is nor comes to be either older or
younger than itself or the others. It “was” and “is” and “will
be,” and “was coming to be” and “comes to be” and “will come
to be.” (155d)
3. Since it is one, it sometimes partakes of being, and in turn, it
sometimes does not partake of being because it is not [one].
(155e)
4. It partakes at one time and does not partake at another, for
only in this way could it both partake and not partake of the
same thing. (155e)
5. There is a [given] time when the one takes part in being, and
when it relinquishes it. [Thus] it is able at one time to have
the same [thing] and at another time not have it, because it
sometimes both obtains it and releases it. (156a)
6. The one, as it seems, when it obtains and releases being, comes
to be and ceases to be. (156b)
7. Since it is one and many and comes to be and ceases to be,
when it comes to be one, its being many ceases to be, and when
it comes to be many, its being one ceases to be. (156b)
8. Since it comes to be one and many it must be separated and
combined. (156b)
9. Whenever it comes to be like and unlike, it must be made like
and unlike. (156b)
10. Whenever it comes to be larger, smaller, and equal, it must be
increased, decreased, and made equal. (156c)
11. Whenever, being in motion, it comes to rest, and whenever,
being at rest, it changes to moving, it itself must somehow be
in no time at all. (156c)
12. There’s no time during which a thing can simultaneously be
neither in motion nor at rest. (156c)
13. It does not change without changing. When does it change?
Neither when it is at rest, nor when in motion, nor when it is
in time. (156c)
14. The one changes in an instant. The instant sits between motion
and rest—being in no time at all—and into it and out of it
what moves changes to resting and what rests changes to

moving. (156d)
15. The one, if it is at rest and in motion, would change in each
of two directions, for only in this way could it do both. But
in changing, it changes in an instant, and when it changes,
it would be in no time at all, and then it would be neither in
motion nor at rest. (156e)
16. Whenever the one changes from being to ceasing-to-be, or
from not-being to coming-to-be, it comes to be between certain
motions and rests, and then it neither is nor is not, and neither
comes to be nor ceases to be. (156e–157a)
17. When it goes from one to many and from many to one, it is
neither one nor many, and is neither separated nor combined.
And when it goes from like to unlike and from unlike to
like, it is neither like nor unlike, and is neither being made
like nor unlike. And when it goes from small to large and to
equal, and vice versa, it is neither small nor large nor equal,
nor would it be increasing or decreasing, nor being made
equal. (157a–b)
18. The one, if it is, would undergo all of the above. (157b)
Argument III: The “Other Than the One” Complex

The method now shifts to the “Other than the One.” If the One is
a Unit of Is, the Others are Units of Is. Thus, the Others are like it in
this regard. Yet the Others are also unlike the Unit of Is, because they
are not the Unit of Is by virtue of being units. They are not the One.
The Others are like Others as they are also Units of Is. The Others are
also unlike Others because they are not those Other Units of Is, nor
the Head of the Hierarchy, the One again, by virtue of which they are
Units of Is. But whether Like or Unlike, the Others are Units of Is, and
have a relation to Being and the One, plus a relation to all other things
that have being, and consequently, they have a place in the ontological
hierarchy. What has afforded them this place, however, is the limitedness
that the One imposes upon them when they obtain Unity/Singleness
from it. All that the Others can contribute is their “non-Unified” or
“natural” state, that is, their unlimitedness (158d). It is the One that
separates them from this amorphous state but also from one another,
by granting them limits in respect to each other. This entire Argument
is most akin to Philolaus’ observations regarding the interrelation of
limiters and unlimiteds. The implication is that without Oneness or

limit, the Others cannot partake of Being.
Accordingly, the objective of this exercise is to elicit “the Others
than the One” in their relation to the One as a Unit of Is. The One is
ontologically superior in respect to the Others, because the Others are
dependent on it for both Unity and distinction. As for the question of
relations, to the One they have relations both as Unities and as “Other
than the One”; to each other, only as Others. (The qualifier in respect
to the One is again “both,” as in Like the One and Unlike the One.)
Consequences for the “Other than One,” derived from the propo-
sition “if One is” (how and in what sense may the Others be Like or
Unlike the Unit of Is):
1. If they are “other than the one,” the others are not the one. (157c)
2. Yet the others are not utterly deprived of oneness, but partake
of it in some way. (157c)
3. The things “other than the one” must be one complete whole,
which has parts. (157e)
4. Things partaking of the one will be “other than the one” while
partaking of it. (Things that possess unity are different from
the unity they possess.) (158b)
5. Things “other than the one” would be many, for if the things
“other than the one” were neither one nor more than one, they
would be nothing. (158b)
6. Those that come to take part in oneness must be already
unlimited in multitude. They are multitudes in which oneness
is not present. (158b–c)
7. It follows for things “other than the one” that from their tak-
ing part in the one and in each other, something different
comes to be in them that provides a limit for them in relation
to each other. But by themselves, their own nature provides
lack of limit. (158d)
8. The things “other than the one,” taken both as wholes and
part by part, are both unlimited and partake of a limit. (158d)
9. The others would be both likes and unlikes of both themselves
and of each other. (159a)
10. The things “other than the one” are both the same as and
different from each other, are both in motion and at rest, and
have undergone all the opposite qualifications. (159a)
Argument IV: The “Other Than One” Simple

The Others cannot provide for their own ontological relations or
status. Argument III shows that the Others cannot impose limits upon
themselves and hence save themselves from amorphous anonymity.
If the One is non-ontological, the consequences for the Others are
that they are also non-ontological. There is nothing to make them
Units of Is, and thus Like and Unlike anything. For the Others to be
in an ontological order, they must be placed there by the “One that
Is.” Excluding that, the Others cannot even be Many. As the survey
showed, “it was impossible for what could not partake of any one
thing to partake of any two” (160a). Moreover, to be other than each
other they must be Units of Is, but that still does not make them the
Unit of Is; hence, they can be the Others only when the “One that
Is” is available to be other than. If it is not available, then all relation
or reference is missing. Nor can the Others have direct reference to
Being in order to be Others, without the One. This, in essence, shows
the consequences of being “weaved together.” If the Others than One
become intertwined with Being, the One must also be present in the
mix. The ontological dependency upon the One, together with its
unavailability for participation or relationship, relegates the Others to
amorphous masses. (The qualifier again is “neither/nor,” e.g., neither
the Same nor Different, neither in Motion nor at Rest.)
Consequences for the Others derived from the proposition “if One
is” (i.e., the Others as not intertwined with the “One plus Being”
complex of Argument II):
1. The one is separate from the others and the others are separate
from the one. (159b)
2. The one is neither in the others as a whole, nor could parts
of it be in them, if it is separate from them and does not have
parts. The one and others are never in the same. (159c)
3. The others could in no way partake of the one, neither par-
taking of any part of it, nor partaking of it as a whole. In
no way are the others one, nor do they have any oneness in
themselves. (159d)
4. Neither are the others many. If they were, each would be one
part of a whole. (159d)
5. Things “other than one” are neither one nor many, neither
whole nor parts. (159d)
6. They are neither two nor three, nor is two or three present in
them, if indeed they are entirely deprived of the one. (159e)
7. The others themselves are neither like nor unlike the one, nor
is likeness and unlikeness in them. Hence, they are neither
like, nor unlike, nor both. (159e)
8. They are neither the same nor different, neither in motion nor
at rest, neither coming to be nor ceasing to be, neither greater,
nor less, nor equal. Nor do they have any other qualifications
of this sort. (160a)
9. If the others are subject to any qualification of this sort, they
will also partake of one and two and three and odd and even,
but it is impossible for them to partake of these things, since
they are in every way utterly deprived of the one. (160a–b)
The preliminary conclusion halfway through the Arguments estab-

lishes the One as the pivotal head of the ontological hierarchy: “Therefore,
‘if one is’, the one both is all things and is not even one thing, both in
relation to itself and, likewise, in relation to the others.” (160b)
Argument V: The “One That Is Not” Complex

In contrast to the sequence introduced by the previous group of
Arguments, it is the complex “One that is not” that is now investigated
first. The consequences elicited here do not regard the non-ontological
One, “if it is not,” as the latter has no reference whatsoever to Being.
That aspect will be taken up by Argument VI. Thus, our inquiry regards
the Not-Being of the Unit of Is. Only the latter can serve as the object
of inquiry, if the objective is to ascertain a reference to Being. What is
missing is missing in reference to a temporal continuum. Plato intends
to prove that if the One that serves as a component in the Unit of Is is
absent, this absence still has reference to Being. Simply put, Argument
V aims to elicit the ontological status of a One that “is not,” if this lack
of being may be unitized somehow in regard to Being. Curiously, the
One that “is not” has properties that nonetheless are. Hence, it seems
to be able to be unitized to a point of sufficient semblance to a Unit
of Is that it shares some of its ambivalence, that is, it is both at rest
and in motion, comes and does not come to be, ceases and does not
cease to be. The main difference to the Unit of Is (Argument II) is that
it is not like the Others in any way. In summary, the objective is to
ascertain whether a One that “is not” may nevertheless have reference
to Being and therefore a place in an ontological order. (The qualifier
is “both,” but contingent, that is, Like Self but Unlike Others. It has
both “Being” and “Not-Being.”)
Consequences derived from the proposition “if one is not”:
1. There is knowledge of it; otherwise, it would not be known

what is meant whenever someone says “if one is not.” (160d)
2. “Difference in kind” belongs to it in addition to knowledge.
For when someone says that “the one is different from the
others,” he refers to its difference in kind, not to that of the
others. (160d–e)
3. It partakes of “that,” “of something,” “of this,” “to this,” “of
these,” and of all others of this sort. (160e)
4. It cannot be, if in fact it is not, but nothing prevents it from
partaking of many [notions]. It must, in fact, do so, if indeed
it is that one and not some other [one] that is not. (161a)
5. It would also have unlikeness, in relation to which the others
are unlike it. (161b)
6. But likeness must belong to the one in regard to itself. (161c)
7. The one, even if it is not, would partake of equality, largeness,
and smallness. (161e)
8. It must also in some way partake of being. (161e)
9. “What is,” if it is completely to be, partakes of being in order
to be a thing that is, and of not-being in order not to be a
thing that is not. “What is not,” if it is completely not to be,
partakes of not-being in order to not be a thing that is, and of
being in order to be a thing that is not. So, too, the one, since
“it is not,” must partake of being in order not to be. (162a–b)
10. [Thus] the one, “if it is not,” also has being . . . and also not-
being, if indeed it is not. (162b)
11. The one, “if it is not,” is both at rest and in motion. (162e)
12. The one, “if it is not,” is both altered and not altered. (163a)
13. The one, “if it is not,” both comes to be and ceases to be, and
neither comes to be nor ceases to be. (163b)
Argument VI: The “One That Is Not” Simple

This exercise reconfirms the integrity of the non-ontological One.
As the survey of Argument I did in regard to the One itself-by-itself,
or Argument IV established regarding the Others “themselves-by-
themselves,” so Argument VI addresses this precise lack of relationship
in regard to Being—if “to be not” implies, as in V, a reference to Being.

The fully non-ontological object is not affected by not having a refer-
ence to Being, contrary to the object of inquiry of Argument V. As
already established by the consequences of Argument I, and reconfirmed
here, the “simple” is atemporal. As nothing can stand in relation to it,
including its not-being, it has no character whatsoever (obviously, not
even “its own”). This is important, as it proves in concordance with
Argument I that it cannot have relation or reference of any kind, not
even to itself. If it did, it could not avoid being two, and consequently,
it would be. Accordingly, the non-ontological One, be it in Argument
I or VI, by “not being in any state,” is always “is not” whenever there
is any hint of reference. There are simply no relations. (The qualifier
is “neither/nor.”)
Consequences derived from the proposition “if one is not”:
1. “What is not” could neither be, nor partake of being in any

other way at all. (163d)
2. The one, since it in no way is, must neither have, nor relinquish,
nor take part in being in any way. (163d)
3. The “one that is not” neither ceases to be nor comes to be, since
it does not partake of being in any way. (163d)
4. Neither is it altered in any way. For [then] it would both come
to be and cease to be. (163d)
5. “What is not” is not ever at rest or in motion. (163e)
6. Nothing among the “things that are” belongs to it, for by
partaking of “this, that is” [i.e., anything that is], it would at
once partake of being. (163e–164a)
7. Neither largeness nor smallness nor equality belong to it. (164a)
8. Neither likeness nor difference in kind would belong to it,
neither in relation to itself nor in relation to the others. (164a)
9. The others cannot be related to it, if, by necessity, nothing
belongs to it. (164a)
10. The others are neither like it nor unlike it, neither the same as
nor different from it. (164a)
11. The following do not pertain to “what is not”: “Of that,” “to
that,” “something,” “this,” “of this,” “of another,” “to another,”
or time past, or afterwards, or now, or knowledge, or opinion,
or perception, or an account, or a name, or anything else among
the “things that are.” (164a–b)
12. The one, “if it is not,” is not in any state at all. (164b)
Argument VII: The “Other Than One” Complex,

Absent the One
The Argument begins by trying to preserve some sense of factuality
for the Others, in the face of the absence of Unity. However, as soon
as characteristics are evoked, all consequences are rendered as “seem-
ing” or “apparent,” not factual. The Others, deficient in Oneness,
seem to have limit, and seem to be One. They appear like and unlike,
in motion and rest, and so on. Ergo, the Others are good copies of the
Others of Argument III, also seemingly modeled after the Unit of Is
in Argument II. But in reality, lacking a reference to a “One that Is,”
they only appear to partake of Being, without actually doing so. Just
as with the object of inquiry of Argument V, what cannot be a Unity
cannot really be a Duality, and consequently a Plurality. If there is some
notion here of reference to Being, then it is only in a doxastic fashion.
In summary, there are no reliable consequences here, as all is seeming,
appearance, and deception. Indeed the ontological dependency is falsely
self-referential. Something seems to have reference to Being, but it is
only a matter of amorphousness to amorphousness. (The qualifier is
“both,” but again contingent because only apparent.)
Consequences for the Others derived from the proposition “if one
is not.” (What, in such a case, is still true of the Others?):
1. They must somehow be other, for if they were not even other,
one would not be speaking of “the others.” (164b)
2. If the others are to be other, there is something of which they
will be other. (164c)
3. They will not be other than the one, “if it is not.” So they are
other than each other, since that is the only possibility left, lest
they be other than nothing. (164c)
4. They each are other than each other as multitudes, for they
could not be so as ones, “if one is not.” (164d)
5. As it seems, each mass of them is unlimited in multitude. (164d)
6. There will be many masses, each appearing one, but not being
so, if one is not. (164d)
7. They will seem to have [some] number, if in fact each is also
one, though they are many. Some of them appear even and
some odd, without truly being so, if one is not. (164e)
8. Each mass will appear to have a limit in relation to another
mass. (165a)
9. In relation to itself it has neither beginning, nor limit, nor

middle, since whenever someone grasps something in thought as
if it were any of these, before the beginning another beginning
always appears, and after the end a different end remaining
appears, and in the middle others more in the middle than the
middle [appear] but smaller, because it is not possible to grasp
each of these as one, since “the one is not.” (165a–b)
10. The others must each appear both unlimited and as having
limit, and both one and many, “if one is not” but the “other
than the one, are.” (165c)
11. These masses must appear both like and unlike both themselves
and each other. (165d)
12. The masses must appear both the same as and different from
each other, both in contact with and separate from themselves,
both moving in all kinds of motions and in every way at rest,
both coming to be and ceasing to be and neither, and as all these
kinds of things somehow, “if one is not” and “many are.” (165d–e)
Argument VIII: The Others Considered as a “Simple”

Without Oneness
First hinted at in Argument I, and then elaborately argued in
Argument II, it appears that having relations to Being is the key to
being. Thus, the impression is that regardless of the presupposed
Oneness of the object of inquiry, Being is the kingpin of ontology,
a sort of “clearinghouse” for a place in the ontological order. What
partakes in it is; what does not partake in it isn’t. Yet in the end of the
overall exercise, particularly by way of the Arguments concerning the
One’s “not-being,” it becomes increasingly evident that Oneness is as
much a factor in what can be considered being as Being is. In fact,
Argument VIII leaves no doubt that without the One, there would
be no ontological order of any kind, because such an order would
have no participating members. Clearly, things must have some sort
of reference in order to be, but it is the One or Unity that facilitates
that reference. Being cannot establish that reference for itself or the
Others, or else the Others would be; they need Oneness to be dis-
tinct from, that is, to be other from what is other. Being might be
the canvas the participants are painted upon, but Unity is the paint
as well as the stroke. Without it, the canvas remains blank. (The
qualifier is “neither/nor.”)
Consequences derived from the proposition “if one is not,” but the
“others than the one are”:
1. The others will not be one. (165e)

2. If oneness is not present in the others, the others are neither
many nor one. (166a)
3. Nor do they appear one or many. (166a)
4. The others are not in communion in any way at all whatsoever
with any of the “things that are not,” and none of the “things
that are not” pertain to any of the others, since “things that
are not” have no share [of anything]. (166a)
5. Neither opinion nor appearance regarding “what is not” per-
tains to the others, nor is “what is not” conceived in any way
whatsoever by the others. (166a)
6. “If one is not,” the others neither are nor are conceived to be
one or many. (166b)
7. [They are] neither like nor unlike either. (166b)
8. They are neither the same nor different, neither in contact
nor separate, nor anything else that they appeared to be in
[Argument VII]. (166b)
9. If one is not, nothing is. (166c)105
The summary of all Consequences shows that One and Being have
a reciprocal relationship, and only within the scope of this relationship
can things actually be, may they be One or Other than One. Being
may be the unlimited, but Oneness is the necessary limiter. We might
say that Being facilitates that things participate, but Oneness facilitates
how things participate, that is, what they participate as. Thus, the final
and overall conclusion of the Second Part exercise leaves no doubts
regarding the question of ontological priority:
If “one is” or if “[one] is not,” [then] it and the others both

are and are not, and both appear and do not appear to be
all things in all ways, both in relation to themselves and in
relation to each other. (166c)
105 Gerhard Seel has reminded me here of Quine’s famous “No entity without
identity” statement, already presaged in this conclusion.
Separation and Interweaving—Tentative
Solutions for Interpreting the Second Part
For the epilogue, I would like to revisit some of the known dif-
ficulties associated with the Parmenides. These may have particular
relevance for those trying to reconcile the Parmenides with its cousin
dialogue, the Sophist. I will focus on the following issues:
• What is the relationship between the First Part and the Second
Part of the Parmenides? Does the second complete the first,
that is, are the difficulties showcased by the First Part actually
addressed by or even resolved by the Second Part?
• Does the Second Part solve the Form vs. participant dilemma,
or does it at least offer us a major advance in how to account
for or speak of intelligible things, whether we deem them as
interacting with each other or with sensible things?
• How do the Parmenides and the Sophist relate to each other?
Does the Sophist represent a major course correction for Plato’s
Theory of Forms, whose shortcomings had to be exposed by
the “Eleatic” protagonists of the Parmenides? Is the Parmenides
nothing more than a dead end in Plato’s development, a branch-
ing off that led nowhere, only to be summarily replaced by the
“interweaving of Forms” doctrine heralded by the Sophist?
• What is the object of inquiry in the Second Part? Are we dealing
with one object of inquiry or two? If the object is indeed ἕν, or
“one,” then in what regard or context is it to be understood as
“one”? Is it existential, predicative, numerical, monadic, nomina-
tive, or perhaps mystical?
• Which of the objects of inquiry in the first two Arguments quali-
fies to be deemed a Form per the conventional Theory of Forms
as espoused by the Early and Middle dialogues? If the object
55
of inquiry in Argument I is not partakable or relatable—which

could foster the view that it is not a Form according to the clas-
sic Theory—then by default we should consider the object of
Argument II as Plato’s paradigm for Form. However, the One
of Argument II has magnitude, has positions in both space and
time, moves, changes, and so on (145b, 145e, 146a, 150e, 151aff.),
all conditions or attributes that go against the classic definition
for Forms. Can this dilemma be resolved?
• Should we view the Parmenides as yet another installment apper-
taining to the popular preoccupation with the One–Many
problem?
Addressing these points in the order listed above would not be very
productive, nor would changing the sequence improve things. To check
off each point, as on a grocery list, would create much redundancy
and unnecessary repetitiveness, as a number of topics are obviously
intertwined. My exposition will be more of a holistic approach, that
is, while tackling one subject or another, I will seek to bring to the
forefront other considerations and reflections as called for. Some topics,
like the Developmentalist view of Plato’s work versus the Unitarian
view, always come up when we speculate whether Plato ever revamped
his Theory of Forms in any substantial way—perhaps even so far as to
relegate the doctrine to the sidelines of his inquiries. These are subjects
that have been vigorously debated for decades among specialists; they
are much too multifaceted, too convoluted, to be done justice to here.
And I am not sure whether the question of Plato’s development can
ever be resolved in a satisfactory manner, particularly with an eye to
the Theory of Forms.
One apparent inconsistency that has created numerous headaches
is related to the treatment of the One in Argument II. I have men-
tioned above that if we cannot consider the object of Argument I a
Form capable of being participated in, we would have to turn to the
object of Argument II, which indeed allows all kinds of participations
and relations. However, if this is our new model for Form, we must
scrap the original Theory that requires a Form not to change or be in
motion, much less to have a temporal or spatial position. Or we could
abandon the idea that the Second Part aims to give one who inquires
into such things the requisite preparation for distinguishing the Forms.
But what are we to make, then, of the way the exercise is introduced,
that is, as the proper training for defining “the beautiful,” and “just”
and “good,” “and each one of the Forms” (135c–d), or that such inquiry
Tentative Solutions for Interpreting the Second Part 57
should not be about “the visible things, but be about those things one
could apprehend best by reasoning, and could regard as Forms” (135e)?
Scholars have been all over the map on these issues.
Samuel Rickless, for example, considers the Parmenides a fateful
watershed moment for the Theory of Forms, after which Forms are
divisible, subjected to contrary properties, and perhaps even sensible,
but in the process they have become more capable of being accurately
defined, compared to the Forms of the earlier Theory.106
For Mitchell Miller, the object of Argument I is the bona fide
Form of the general Theory, which accordingly does not need any
sort of modification or “tuning.” The simple “One” represents the
distinguished Form, isolate—deservedly cut off from name, knowl-
edge, speech, opinion, and sense-perception, to which only temporal
things are subject.107 The object of Argument II, on the other hand,
represents the participating thing as it relates to the Form. Hence
for Miller, Arguments I and II represent an exercise that needs to be
worked through in order to gain “a conceptual distinction between
form and thing.” 108
For Charles Kahn, the notion of Form of the classical Theory is
not directly addressed in the Second Part of the Parmenides, provid-
ing in the main only a background to the overall exercise (according
to his latest work, still in progress, on Plato’s Later dialogues). The
claim of Argument I and II—denied elsewhere in Plato’s work—
that all being is temporal confirms, in Kahn’s view, the impression
that “the Forms of the classical theory are not under consideration
here.” 109 Argument I is characterized by Kahn as a self-refuting
exercise that implodes by denying its own premise, “that the One
is or has being,” also caused by the attempt to deny plurality to the
“One,” which, consequently, prevents it from combining with other
Forms. According to Kahn, being “One” should not exclude being
“Many”; citing the Sophist, he concludes that “concepts like being
one cannot function in isolation.” 110
Naturally, I have not done justice to the above scholars, citing only
snippets from their thoughtful elaborations. My purpose was to show
that the relationship between the Theory of Forms and its purported
106 Rickless, Plato’s Forms in Transition, 94, 249–250 and passim.

107 Miller, Plato’s Parmenides, 100–101, 111–116, 153, 158.
108 Ibid., 111–112.
109 Kahn, Parmenides chapter (a work in progress on Plato’s later dialogues).
110 Ibid.
treatment in the Parmenides is not a closed book; there are many

thought-provoking ways to approach the subject, which regrettably I
cannot fully catalog here.
Having voiced my caveats, I will nevertheless attempt to address
the remainder of the above-listed issues as best as I can within the
limitations of this work. My obligation was to provide an introductory
survey of the critical issues involved, if only to assist anyone adventurous
enough to seek access to what has been touted as the most strenuous
and arcane of Platonic dialogues, or even as the most difficult work
of all time. But my intention, first and foremost, was to make it easier
for the reader to study the translation and hopefully to gain insight
into Plato’s train of thought. The dialogue itself, Plato’s wording or
text, is obviously more important than anything I have to say. This
is also the reason why the English translation is provided together
with the Ancient Greek text. In the previous chapter, I enumerated
the general results of the inquiry that we call the Second Part, but
questions remain: Does taking stock of the consequences of the vari-
ous Arguments give us a better understanding of how the two parts
of the dialogue relate to each other? Is the Second Part successful as
a demonstration, inasmuch as we know more about (a) the difficul-
ties involved when Form and Form are associated with each other (or
Form with participant) and perhaps even (b) how to navigate around
said difficulties? It has taken me considerable time to come up with
adequate answers to these questions, answers that are demonstrable
and sufficiently internally consistent, I hope, to permit me to venture
an affirmative, even optimistic, response.
There are two critical factors in my view that are essential for our
understanding of the Parmenides. The first regards the “meaning” or
reference of our statements, that is to say, what object do we have in
mind when we say something, or in what sense we are saying it? This
can include certain required differentiations, such as a predicative versus
an existential/ontological understanding of a concept, which relates
to its function in a statement, question, or hypothesis. The key ques-
tion is “What do we mean when we say . . . ?” Next is the idea of the
bundling or intertwining of concepts or words when putting together
an account or definition of a thing or a term, including the possibility
that the formulation is presented as a hypothesis.
The first factor will become clear if we attempt to reduce all the
difficulties explored in the dialogue, to one basic question: What
do we mean when we say “one” (taken either in isolation or inside a
proposition)?
Technically, the question represents the gist of the Second Part of the
dialogue; however, it can be easily reformulated to accept other objects of
inquiry, including “other than one,” “being,” “not-being,” “many,” “like,”
“unlike,” “same,” and “different.” It can also address values like “just,”
“beautiful,” and “good,” as well as subjects like “human being,” “fire,”
“water,” and also “hair,” “mud,” and so on, and it can even be extended
to include “Socrates,” “Parmenides,” “Hamlet,” or “God.” The question
entices us to conceive additional inquiries—for instance, are we point-
ing to one specific thing when we speak of the above subjects, or are we
speaking of a bundle of things—attributes, qualities, and the like—none
of which are the object we have in mind, but which are nonetheless there
to help us express what we mean by it when we refer to it.
Even the best description or definition is not the thing described or
defined, unless by “thing” we mean a term or concept. Every individual
component that makes up what is said about the thing itself—every
noun, verb, adjective, etc.—is not specific or exclusively proprietary to
it.111 This means that the words we use to give a true account of a thing,
object, or entity can also be used in regard to other things, objects, or
entities. Nothing that can be said about something belongs exclusively
to it, with one exception—namely, what we mean when we say it. And
here’s the catch—this is where the gap, or the disconnect, in under-
standing occurs. What we mean may not be reflected by what we say;
thus, what we say may not be what we mean. If the elements—that is,
the words that make up the “bundle” of terms that we use to commu-
nicate what we mean—are not unique, would then the “bundle” itself
be unique, so that only one specific meaning becomes conveyed and
received? If that is the case, then the only chance we have of improving
the conveyance of what we mean is to create better “bundles.” I have
tried to use non-scholarly terminology to communicate the subjects at
hand, if only to check myself. Can I replicate some of Plato’s concerns
without taking refuge to technical terms that all too often hide more
than they reveal? Experts, of course, will have recognized the issues
presented as topics also explored by other dialogues, such the Theaetetus,
Cratylus, Sophist, and others.
The issue of “bundling” concepts or words brings me to the second
factor mentioned above. It is Plato’s idea of the “interweaving of Forms”
(τῶν εἰδῶν συμπλοκὴν), conventionally associated with the Sophist.
However, it also makes a telling appearance in the First Part of the
111 The exception is, of course, names, definite descriptions, or in general, singular
terms.
Parmenides, toward the end of a prolonged monologue by Socrates. We

find him complaining about the difficulties inherent in the separating
and combining of intelligible things whenever we speak about them,
as compared to the ease of our approach regarding the sensible things:
If someone attempts to show that the same things—such as

stones and sticks and the like—are [both] many and one,
then we will say that he demonstrates these to be many and
one, and not that “the one” is many, nor “the many” one . . . .
But if someone first distinguishes the Forms, themselves by
themselves, separately from the things I have just mentioned
[i.e., stones, sticks]—such as “likeness” and “unlikeness,”
“multitude” and “oneness,” “rest” and “motion,” and every-
thing of this kind—and afterwards shows that in themselves
these can be combined and separated [συγκεράννυσθαι καὶ
διακρίνεσθαι], then I would be very much astonished. [Thus]
I would be . . . amazed if someone were able to demonstrate
that this very same difficulty—which you and Parmenides
went through on behalf of the visible things—is also inter-
woven in omnifarious ways [παντοδαπῶς πλεκομένην] in
the Forms themselves, and thus in things that are grasped by
reasoning. (129d–130a, abbreviated version, emphasis added)
What is the difficulty Socrates speaks of that poses no problem

when speaking of sensibles but can signify the death knell for any
theory regarding abstract or intelligible things? It is the notion that
intelligibles, like Forms, can have contradictory attributes. In response
to Zeno’s demonstration in the beginning that “if the things that are”
are many they would be both “like” and “unlike”—which is taken to
be impossible (127e)—Socrates shows quite effortlessly that the dif-
ficulty does not apply to visible things. These can be both “like” and
“unlike,” depending on the context in which we are speaking regard-
ing such things. Therefore Socrates, as a man, can be one thing but at
the same time display a variety of parts, and thus also be a multitude
(129a–d). In a sense, Socrates is saying, “If you have a problem with
conflicting attributes in the visible things, Zeno, you are barking up
the wrong tree. Raise your sights higher to the intelligible things, where
such concerns would be more appropriate.”
Although Socrates is not calling for Zeno to defend the Forms
against the threat of inherent plurality and the danger of being subjected
to contradictory attributions—in the manner, as the dialogue contends,
that Zeno was moved to defend Parmenides’ object of inquiry—there

is nonetheless some insecurity in Socrates’ voice. Yet he plunges ahead
and includes even Parmenides in his challenge of the Eleatic approach.
It is almost as if he is worried that if two thinkers of this magnitude,
who were so bold to take on the visible world in defiance of the most
common beliefs, were to put their heads together, they could come up
with all kinds of flaws and inconsistencies regarding the Forms. Still, as
certain as Socrates claims to be of the integrity of the Forms “themselves
by themselves,” he is prescient enough to realize that some genuine dif-
ficulties emerge when one combines them. Socrates does not yet realize
that the danger is not only apparent in how we combine or intertwine
the Forms, but also in how we take such combinations apart, if we are
to obtain the simple “itself-by-itself” attribute. As Socrates will find
out in the Second Part of the Parmenides, our understanding of many
familiar concepts will change substantially, depending only on how we
associate them with each other. But he will be much more taken aback
by how thoroughly we will lose our grasp of the Forms if we insist that
they be disassociated to the point of being “themselves by themselves.”
It is lessons of this kind that Parmenides proceeds to demonstrate to
young Socrates throughout the remainder of the dialogue.
Yet the dialogue’s Parmenides is neither a foe of the Forms nor of
disassociation per se. It is he who brings up the need to differentiate
between sensibles and intelligibles, as when he lauds Socrates for not
allowing “inquiry to wander around the visible things, nor be about
them, but be about those things one could apprehend best by reasoning,
and could regard as Forms” (135e). The Eleatic has taken up not only
the challenge expressed by Socrates at the outset but also the mantle
of the Forms’ most proficient champion. It is the same Parmenides,
after all, who points out to Socrates:
If someone . . . will not concede that there are Forms of “the

things that are,” and will not define [ὁριεῖται] a Form for each
one [of them], he will not have anything to turn his thought
to, since he won’t allow that for each of “the things that are,”
there is a concept that is always the same. And by doing this
he will completely destroy the power of discourse. (135b–c)
Thus Parmenides sets the agenda for the philosopher’s inquiry,

fueled by the need to distinguish the Forms from the sensible things.
This helps define them in their own right as classes for things, and not
as belonging to the things themselves—the word for “define” used
by Parmenides, ὁρίζω, can also express “divide,” “separate,” or “mark

off.” Only when we perform such marking off of the Forms from the
sensible things do we stand a chance to, as Parmenides then says, “dis-
allow inquiry to be about the visible things, but be about those things
one could apprehend best by reasoning.” In this way the agenda is set,
and upon Socrates’ acceptance of it, Parmenides lays out in detail the
twofold strategy that will be pursued in the Second Part.
While marathon-like in scope and labyrinthine in layout, the exercise
itself is basically a clear-cut exhibition of what happens to our under-
standing of the Forms dependent on whether we combine or untangle
them. That there are many lessons along the way, some quite cogent,
others less so, touching upon a variety of subjects and doctrines—many
of which have been already spouted by some Presocratics—seems
unavoidable, considering the breadth of the enterprise. However, the
main message remains that contingent upon how we approach the object
of inquiry, we come to speak differently of it, and whether desired or
not, its meaning is subject to change. Again, it is not the Form that
changes, but the meaning it has for us, particularly the meaning we
are conveying in each individual case, which, once more, depends on
how we associate or disassociate things—including the possibility of
disassociating something radically or completely.
The Sophist picks up the idea of “destroying the power of discourse”
mentioned above, not only brought about by a failure to distinguish
a “concept that is always the same” from the transient sensible things,
but also—exemplified in the Second Part of the Parmenides—as the
outcome of complete separation:
To disassociate each thing from everything else is to destroy

everything there is to say. The weaving together of Forms
is what makes speech possible.112
Now, the First Part of the Parmenides shows us a variety of examples

of difficulties encountered when we radically separate the Forms, as we
must, from their participants. The devastating epistemological effects of
a complete severing of the divine from the mortal “things-amongst-us”
realm is but one example, which ends up with the conclusion, quite
alarming for Socrates, that God is incapable of knowing human affairs
(134a–e). However, the dissociation referred to above (from the Sophist)
is far more consequential, as the Second Part of the Parmenides shows,
112 Sophist, 259e.

because, if successful, it leaves us with nothing to say, name, or know.

The focusing on concerns that address intelligibility and the ability to
express what can be grasped is part of the reason I consider the Sophist
and the Parmenides as complementary rather than opposing works. They
both provide solutions for each other, but in different ways than are
often imagined by other interpreters. While a key to both dialogues is
the notion of an “interweaving of Forms,” the strategy must go hand in
hand with the requisite differentiation of singular Forms by themselves
(αὐτὰ καθ᾽ αὑτά).113
The dialogues complete each other as to how they tackle these two
issues, yet what in the Sophist is copious but necessary theorizing (for
the sake of capturing the cunning quarry, the Sophist) emerges in the
Second Part of the Parmenides as an exhaustive, unrepentant demon-
stration. Arguments I, IV, VI, and VIII, as we have seen, are devoted to
the pursuit of the simple, the unrelated, naked, concept. But Arguments
II, III, V, and VII complete the exercise by showing how the necessary
association and reordering of concepts offer a new understanding of
them. Argument II, in particular, is nothing less than a paradigmatic
exemplification of the principle of weaving together individual notions,
including those which plainly contradict each other, and which, without
the groundwork established by the dialogue, would have contentious
results, if not outright ridiculous conclusions. It is all a matter of context,
dependent on from what perspective we are approaching the object or,
in the language of the Sophist, how we speak of it: whether we mean
something in one way or in a different way.
But even the general idea of contextualizing concepts—meaning
that in order to avoid explicit contradiction when dealing with contrary
qualities we must differentiate when the referent is “spoken of in one way”
as opposed to being “spoken of in a different way”—was not the break-
through in composing a logos some associate with the Sophist 114—unless we
113 Sophist, 250e6ff.; 251d; 252b6ff.; 253a1, d; 254b6ff.; 255c12, e5; 259a5, e4;
262d4. Parmenides, 128e, 129d–e; 130a–b; 137cff.
114 Sophist, 256a11: “When we say that [change] is the same or not the same,
we aren’t speaking the same way. When we say it’s the same, that’s because it
shares in the same in relation to itself. But when we say it’s not the same, that’s
because of its association with the different.” (See also 259c–d; furthermore,
256c, 257b, 258e–259a.) Guthrie argues that the realization that a word can
be used in more than one sense is perhaps the Sophist’s great contribution to
general philosophy (HGP V, 152). See also Statesman, 283e, regarding the
Great and Small: “We speak of them in one way as connected to each other,
and in another way as connected to due measure.”
assume that it precedes the Parmenides chronologically. The Arguments

of the Second Part offer us an exact roadmap of how context change
can be performed so that what conventionally would be a contradic-
tion is, in fact, not. All we have to do is to see it in the appropriate
context; in other words, we must aim for the intended meaning of a
given account.
Plainly, as an object of inquiry, the One of Argument I is spoken
of differently when compared with the One of Argument II. Even the
way the basic hypotheses are introduced in these two arguments seems
to suggest that we should expect not quite the same approach to our
object, meaning we should anticipate different results. In Argument
I, the hypothesis is expressed as the predicative “if it is One” (εἰ ἕν
ἐστιν), in contrast to the existential “if One is” (ἓν εἰ ἔστιν) hypothesis
of Argument II.115 Charles Kahn—who also proposes “if it is one” for
the First and “if one is” or “if there is one” for the Second—considers
this primarily a rhetorical, as opposed to a logical, distinction:
The difference is that the later formula, by placing ἕν “one”

before the if-clause, identifies the One as subject and shifts
attention to the predicate ἔστιν, “is.” By contrast, the word
order of the hypothesis in Deduction 1 encourages us to
construe “is one” as a predicate with no subject specified.
Hence one way to understand Deduction 1 is to see it as
positing being one as an attribute alone, without connection
to any other subject or attribute.116
For Plato, the spelling out of a definite subject at the onset of the
Second Part is also made redundant by his distinctively “Eleatic”
introduction of the overall object of inquiry. Just a few lines before
Argument I starts, Parmenides frames this object as follows: “I shall
115 Gill also differentiates between εἰ ἕν ἐστιν (137c3), and ἓν εἰ ἔστιν (142b4),
also translating the first as “if it is one” and the second as “if one is” (Plato:
Parmenides, 141, 147), as does Kahn, chapter on the Parmenides (a work in
progress on Plato’s later dialogues). Ross is a good representation of those
who opt for a strictly existential take on the object of inquiry (Plato’s Theory
of Ideas); Sayre does not differentiate, translating both as “if there is one”
(Parmenides’ Lesson, 17, 23). Allen translates “if unity is” for both (Plato’s
Parmenides, 17, 25); Turnbull has “if one is” for both (The Parmenides and
Plato’s Late Philosophy, 51, 71); Scolnicov, “if the one is,” for both (Plato’s
Parmenides, 80, 95).
116 Kahn, chapter on the Parmenides (a work in progress on Plato’s later dialogues).
begin with myself and my own hypothesis, hypothesizing about ‘the

One’ itself, whether it is one or not one, and the consequences that must
follow [in each case].” (137b) When almost immediately afterward he
launches the demonstration with the words “if [it] is one” and so on,
it is clear that he is still speaking of the subject he had just identified
as part of “his own hypothesis,” namely “the One itself” (ἑνὸς αὐτοῦ).
Subsequently, the rest of Argument I traces the consequences not of
the ontological “One plus Being” construction of Argument II, but
stays true to the original stipulation of the “One” sought as a simple
attribute “alone,” precisely as Kahn describes it, “without connection
to any other subject or attribute.”
We have seen how this strategy is applied rigorously throughout
Argument I. The individual property in question must be isolated
even to the point of disassociating it with its own name before we can
worry about any existential and referential implications. Why even
its name? Because as Argument I contends, nothing can really belong
to something when it is not intertwined with Being, and therefore is
not—not even a name. To this requirement we can add the comple-
mentary observation found in the Sophist that a thing and its name
are not the same; they are not one thing, but two, yet a name without
referent is a name of nothing.117 Furthermore, the name for a thing
is not securely tethered to it. It is, in the words of the Seventh Letter,
“not firmly fixed” (οὐδὲν . . . βεβαίως ἕξειν), being always liable to be
replaced by a different designation, including a contradicting one.118
Taking all this into consideration, there seems to be no legitimate way
for Plato to allow a property to keep its particular name whenever it
neither refers to anything nor is possessed by something else.119 I have
been astonished by the number of interpreters who seem to overlook
the main motive necessitating the kind of radical disassociation of the
object of inquiry that we find in Argument I: a predicate without refer-
117 Sophist, 244d.

118 Letter VII, 343b. The genuineness of the Letter, in this context, is beside the
point. I agree with the majority that it is either authentic or sufficiently close
chronologically and contextually to being so that the issue does not have to
be belabored. See also Theaetetus, 208bff., on the instability of definitions.
119 Now, if Plato had the possibility of self-predication in mind, I don’t see how
he could have argued for the loss of name. Clearly, considering the arguments
against same/different and like/unlike (139b–140b), the conclusion cannot
be reached that the One partakes of itself.
ent can in turn not have anything for which it itself is the referent. In
simple terms, if it does not refer to anything, nothing else refers to it.120
This is confirmed by Argument IV, which represents another attempt
to isolate the simple “itself-by-itself,” in this case the non-referential
“Other than One.” In reviewing this particular approach, we might
be struck at first by what seems to be an inconsistency in that part of
the wording referring to the One. We find it to be the same as that in
Argument II, rather than that in Argument I, namely ἓν εἰ ἔστιν, which
we have translated as “if One is,” in contrast to the “if it is One” (εἰ ἕν
ἐστιν) hypothesis of the First Argument. However, both Arguments
I and IV attempt to isolate the simple unrelated object, hence, not
some ontological “Object plus Being” composite, but merely the naked
property. Yet as a matter of content, the inconsistency is only apparent:
the “Other than One” will also behave as a “simple” if approached as a
predicate without reference, particularly if “Other” fails to have reference
to the complex, multifarious One of Argument II—which is why Plato
construes Argument IV’s hypothesis precisely around Argument II’s “if
One is” proposition. This is soon confirmed by the Argument itself, as
we arrive at the question of plurality. There, the conclusion preserved
in 159d7 reiterates forcefully that the “Other than One” concept is not
intertwined with the “One plus Being” complex—which is taken as the
root of “the Many” according to Argument II (144a–e). Accordingly,
any possibility for plurality must be ruled out:
So neither are the others many, for if they were, each of

them would be one part of a whole. But as it is, the things
other than one are neither one nor many, neither whole nor
parts, since they in no way partake of it. (159d)
Naturally we can ask ourselves, what can “Other than One” mean
if not Many, if it does not mean One? But that is not the point of
this particular exercise, namely, to situate the Many against the One.
120 I am not going to expand the discussion here regarding self-predication.

Against Meinwald et al., I have yet to see convincing arguments that Plato
had any inkling about what we mean by “self-predication.” Not even the sort
of “Pauline predication” (as proposed by Sandra Peterson, “A Reasonable
Self-Predication Premise for the Third Man Argument,” 458) works in regard
to the result of Argument I. “Charity,” in St. Paul’s Epistle, allows itself to be
associated with both “Suffering,” and “Kindness,” while keeping its name,
obviously. The object of Argument I, on the other hand, cannot be associated
with anything not even its name.
That, rather, was the point of Zeno’s demonstrations, as Plato has his
Parmenides tell us in 136a—after Socrates is introduced to the idea of
lacking adequate training in such matters. I suggest that the Second
Part should not be taken as yet another exploration of the ubiquitous
One and Many problem, but of the more straightforwardly analytical
“Object” versus the “Other than the Object” juxtaposition—even if
occasionally the “Other than” concept becomes equated with the Many.
Moreover, the “Other than One,” for example, could be distinguished
as the “Not even One” and still not give us, strictly speaking, a “plural-
ity of things” concept.
On general grounds, we can accept Plato’s argument that it is
necessary to learn how to separate the Forms from the sensible things.
But why should we feel necessitated to distinguish a Form from other
Forms quite so drastically, including from Form bundles, or complexes?
Setting considerations from earlier dialogues aside, Socrates never makes
a convincing case as to why a Form needs to be separated “itself-by-
itself” apropos other Forms. Moreover, we can separate, according to
the Second Part, the concept to the point of being unable to speak
of it further. To what benefit, one can ask. We are only told that we
won’t know the Form, much less be able to express it. We won’t even
have a justification to voice its name unless, quite obviously, we start
re-associating it with other concepts. But then it was never actually
“itself-by-itself” as would be required, according to Socrates, for our
edification in its true nature. Is there some benefit to carrying out an
exercise that, if successfully completed, may rob us of the ability to
know or to articulate anything at all? Well, keeping the notion of “inter-
weaving” in mind, we may attempt the following thought experiment.
Let us say we are trying to create a rational account of something
that is nothing more than a coherent intertwining of concepts, intended
to express the meaning we intend to express. In a sense, we are creat-
ing a recipe for the purpose of obtaining and conveying a very specific
meaning and nothing else, certainly not something less or other than
what we have in mind. But if we must create such an exacting recipe,
we should be able to know precisely what our ingredients are, and how
they affect each other as well as how they affect the whole. That is how
we avoid unwanted side effects, one of them being that we did not create
the recipe originally intended—reflecting the meaning we wanted to
convey—but a different one. A good example is the attempt to define
the term “sophist” in the Sophist. Accordingly, the identification of
each individual ingredient prevents redundancy or insufficiency, both
of which could cause unintended alterations of purpose. In this sense,
it is understandable that Plato requires the Forms to be isolated and

stripped bare of any and all association before attempting to recom-
bine them. It is only when this disassociation is performed as drasti-
cally as in Arguments I, IV, VI, and VIII that in the end we have lost
connection with our objects, including nominally—if, as the Sophist
contends, the thing and its name are two different things. Therefore,
we should seek to distinguish the ingredients carefully without fully
disassociating them.
However, having the object elude our grasp when we push it all
the way to “itself-by-itselfness” is not necessarily an unsuccessful, and
thus redundant, exercise. Quite to the contrary, it would allow us to
properly identify other pertinent Forms together with which a particular
“weaving-together” comes about. How do we come to identify these
other Forms? The answer is quite simple and straightforward. If the
concepts were capable of being removed in the first place—as demon-
strated, for example, by Argument I—then we have proved to ourselves
that they were not the specific concept we were after, but that we were
still dealing with some sort of “weaving together” as representative of
the idea itself. (See, for instance, how the idea “that there is One” in
Argument II comes to stand for the concept of “One,” when in fact,
as the Argument shows, we are dealing with a composite notion that
has “One” and “Being” as its constituents [142b–e].)
In the end, everything that is not the concept we are after must be
disassociated; the complex must be taken apart if we have any hope of
not only putting it together again, but perhaps of putting it together
again in a better way. The disassembly as an exercise allows us room
for experimentation to improve the bundling, so to speak, and hence
the overall account, or definition. Our goal, evidently, is to improve
discourse, not to destroy it. To destroy it—and in this the Parmenides
and the Sophist are of the same opinion—is to lose, or to be deprived
of, philosophy.121 And who would want that to happen?
In summary, the main lesson that should be retained from both the
Parmenides and the Sophist is that a “weaving together” goes hand in
hand with a “taking apart.” Socrates’ powerful plea calling for some-
one to demonstrate how the Forms can be distinguished, themselves
by themselves, separately from the “visible things”—if only to also
show how the very same Forms “in themselves, can be combined and
separated” (129d–e)—is so cogent and well-articulated that it sets the
121 Parmenides, 135c; Sophist, 260a.

whole dialogue in motion. The enterprise is given a clear direction, a

goal, and a mandate. Parmenides’ ensuing exchange with Socrates has a
preparatory character. Plainly, the aim is not to embarrass Socrates—the
Eleatic’s tone is genial throughout—but rather to provide a multifaceted
survey of problematic areas. After reviewing the various problems of
participation that make up most of the First Part, but before enun-
ciating the need for Forms “if we are to have meaningful discourse,”
Parmenides issues an ominous warning—one that goes to the heart
of the separation question:
These difficulties are necessarily involved in the Forms, and

still many more besides them—if these are the concepts for
the “things that are” and someone delimits each Form as
“something by itself.” Thus, whoever hears about them is
confounded and disputes whether they exist, or that, even if
they do indeed exist, they must necessarily be unknowable
to human nature. (135a)
Without a doubt, the results of the non-relational Arguments I, IV,

VI, and VIII do demonstrate that when “spoken of in a certain way,” an
object “itself-by-itself” can indeed be denied to exist or to be known.
And yet there is a difference between the approach of a Sophist like
Gorgias—whose style seems to be knowingly mimicked by the above
remarks—and that of a thoroughly trained philosopher who recognizes
both the traps that result in the unintelligible and the need for reliable,
unconditional concepts or values. We should not forget that whatever
else may have separated the Eleatics and Plato, they had one common
enemy: the type of epistemological relativism preached by the likes
of Protagoras and Gorgias. Aware of this natural kinship, Plato has
reserved his strongest defense of the Forms for a very dramatic moment
in the dialogue, endowing, it seems, the most fearsome, larger-than-
life, philosophical figure of his day, Parmenides—in whose shadow
even the cunningly glib Sophists were trying to hide—with his most
potent arguments for Forms.
It is also Parmenides whom Plato trusts to handle the separation
question more competently than the somewhat superficial—perhaps
even carefree—young Socrates. First, the Eleatic asks Socrates whether
he has distinguished (διῄρησαι) for himself the Forms, “themselves
by themselves,” from the things that partake in them (130b). Not
waiting for an answer, Parmenides proceeds immediately to the next
question: whether Socrates thinks or supposes (δοκεῖ) that a concept
like “likeness itself ” is something entirely separate from “the likeness

that we share.” (Notice the subtle change in how the separation issue
is approached in the second question. It seems to water down, in my
view, the strong distinction διῄρησαι [“dividing,” “distinguishing”]
to the weaker δοκεῖν [“thinking,” “supposing,” “opining”].) Socrates
affirms that he does think in this way, and when asked also about
“the beautiful,” “the just,” “the good,” he only ventures a short “yes.”
But when asked about “fire,” “water,” or “human being,” he admits
freely that he is often puzzled (ἐν ἀπορίᾳ) about these things, followed
by a telling statement—one that once again draws on the distinction
that has been touted as the Sophist’s greatest breakthrough—namely,
whether to speak about them in the same way as he speaks about the
others above, or diff erently (130c).
However, when Socrates treats things like “hair,” “mud,” and so on
as not even worth distinguishing as Forms “themselves by themselves,”
it is obvious that his preconceived notions have gotten the better of him.
He seems to have only opined this, that, or the other about the Forms,
but never really set out to prove anything by rigorous demonstration,
certainly not by anything even remotely comparable to the Second
Part. The prejudiced remark earns Socrates a cutting reproach from
Parmenides, who points out that he is still young and that philosophy
has not taken hold of him yet, as it surely will once he stops belittling
these kinds of things.
But apparently, the larger point that Socrates has missed is that when
a concept is not just claimed or thought to be separate “itself by itself,”
but actually becomes disassociated by means of a skillful demonstration
from everything that is other than it—including the other Forms—he
will have lost it completely. And it is not just lost as something that can
be known, spoken of, named, and so on, but also as something that
can be participated in—which leaves the Theory of Forms in limbo.
When in the remainder of the First Part Parmenides proceeds to show
Socrates that some of his favorite ideas about the Forms, when put to
the test, result in aporiai, or perplexing difficulties, the young man feels
intimidated. The feeling is deserved in the end, because it shows a lack
in the kind of training that merits being called philosophy. The point
is simply this: he should not satisfy himself with just thinking about
things; rather, he should put what has been thought to the test. Socrates
only shows that he has not yet learned to come up with alternative ways
of how what is said about certain things might be understood so that
difficulties can be avoided. He has not yet learned that it takes more
to achieve what, for example, the Eleatic Visitor (in the Sophist) deems
as the most worth pursuing, an occupation that is “both difficult but

at the same time beautiful”: 122
We should be able to follow what a person says and scru-

tinize it step by step. When he says that what’s different is
the same in a certain way or that what’s the same is different
in a certain way, we should understand just what way he
means, and the precise respect in which he’s saying that the
thing is same or different. (259c–d)
If viewed as a call for a discerning methodological approach, then

Plato’s sagacious words, coming to us by means of the Sophist, are, in
my opinion, the final clue to the enigma that is the Parmenides.
122 Sophist, 259c.

TEXT AND TRANSLATION*
*From the Preface to PLATO IV, Loeb Classical Library 167: The Greek text is based upon the
Codex Bodleianus or Clarkianus (B) and the Codex Venetus Append. Class. 4, cod. 1 (T).
Readings not supported by either of these, and occasionally disagreements between these
two manuscripts themselves, are noted in the footnotes. Later hands of these manuscripts
are designated by the letters b and t. Other manuscripts occasionally mentioned are Codex
Venetus Append. Class. 4, cod. 54 (G), and Codex Vindobonensis 54, Suppl. Phil. Gr. 7 (W).
ΠΑΡΜΕΝΙΔΗΣ
ΤΑ ΤΟΥ ΔΙΑΛΟΓΟΥ ΠΡΟΣΩΠΑ

ΚΕΦΑΛΟΣ, ΑΔΕΙΜΑΝΤΟΣ, ΑΝΤΙΦΩΝ, ΓΛΑΥΚΩΝ, ΠΥΘΟΔΩΡΟΣ,
ΣΩΚΡΑΤΗΣ, ΖΗΝΩΝ, ΠΑΡΜΕΝΙΔΗΣ, ΑΡΙΣΤΟΤΕΛΗΣ
126 [Κέφαλος]:
Ἐπειδὴ Ἀθήναζε οἴκοθεν ἐκ Κλαζομενῶν ἀφικόμεθα, κατ᾿ ἀγορὰν
ἐνετύχομεν Ἀδειμάντῳ τε καὶ Γλαύκωνι· καί μου λαβόμενος τῆς χειρὸς
ὁ Ἀδείμαντος· “ Χαῖρ᾿, ” ἔφη, “ ὦ Κέφαλε, καὶ εἴ του δέεῃ τῶν τῇδε
ὧν ἡμεῖς δυνατοί, φράζε.”
“ Ἀλλὰ μὲν δή,” εἶπον ἐγώ, “ πάρειμί γε ἐπ᾿ αὐτὸ τοῦτο,
δεησόμενος ὑμῶν.”
“ Λέγοις ἄν,” ἔφη, “ τὴν δέησιν.”
b Καὶ ἐγὼ εἶπον· “ τῷ ἀδελφῷ ὑμῶν τῷ ὁμομητρίῳ τί ἦν ὄνομα; οὐ γὰρ
μέμνημαι. παῖς δέ που ἦν, ὅτε τὸ πρότερον ἐπεδήμησα δεῦρο ἐκ
Κλαζομενῶν· πολὺς δὲ ἤδη χρόνος ἐξ ἐκείνου. τῷ μὲν γὰρ πατρί, δοκῶ,
Πυριλάμπης ὄνομα.”
“ Πάνυ γε,” ἔφη.
“ Αὐτῷ δέ γε; ”
“ Ἀντιφῶν.1 ἀλλὰ τί μάλιστα πυνθάνει; ”
“ Οἵδ᾿, ” εἶπον ἐγώ, “ πολῖταί τ᾿ ἐμοί2 εἰσι, μάλα φιλόσοφοι,
ἀκηκόασί τε ὅτι οὗτος ὁ Ἀντιφῶν Πυθοδώρῳ τινὶ Ζήνωνος ἑταίρῳ
c πολλὰ ἐντετύχηκε, καὶ τοὺς λόγους, οὕς ποτε Σωκράτης καὶ Ζήνων
καὶ Παρμενίδης διελέχθησαν, πολλάκις ἀκούσας τοῦ Πυθοδώρου
ἀπομνημονεύει.”
“ Ἀληθῆ,” ἔφη, “ λέγεις.”
“ Τούτων τοίνυν,” εἶπον, “ δεόμεθα διακοῦσαι.”
“ Ἀλλ᾿ οὐ χαλεπόν,” ἔφη· “ μειράκιον γὰρ ὢν αὐτοὺς εὖ μάλα
διεμελέτησεν, ἐπεὶ νῦν γε κατὰ τὸν πάππον τε καὶ ὁμώνυμον πρὸς
ἱππικῇ τὰ πολλὰ διατρίβει. ἀλλ᾿ εἰ δεῖ, ἴωμεν παρ᾿ αὐτόν· ἄρτι γὰρ
ἐνθένδε οἴκαδε οἴχεται, οἰκεῖ δὲ ἐγγὺς ἐν Μελίτῃ.”
1 αὐτῷ δέ γε; ἀντιφῶν B: αὐτῷ δέ γε ἀντιφῶν (spoken by Adeimantus) T.

2 τ᾿ ἐμοι Stephanus: τέ μοί T: μοί B.
74
PARMENIDES
CHARACTERS
Cephalus, Adeimantus, Antiphon, Glaucon, Pythodorus, Socrates,
Zeno, Parmenides, Aristoteles
[Cephalus narrates]: 126

When we arrived in Athens from our home in Clazomenae, we ran
into Adeimantus and Glaucon in the marketplace. Adeimantus took
me by the hand and said, “Welcome, Cephalus, let us know if there is
anything here you might need that we can provide.”
“Indeed, I am here for that very reason,” I replied, “to ask something
of you.”
“Tell us what it is,” he said.
And I replied, “What was the name of your half brother on your b
mother’s side? I don’t remember it. He would have been a child when
I came here from Clazomenae before—and that is now a long time
ago. His father’s name, I believe, was Pyrilampes.”
“It was, indeed,” he said.
“And his?”
“Antiphon. But why exactly do you ask?”
“These men here are fellow citizens of mine,” I said, “keen philosophers,
and they have heard that this Antiphon used to meet frequently with a
friend of Zeno’s called Pythodorus, and that he has often heard from
Pythodorus the conversation that Socrates, Zeno, and Parmenides once c
had with one another and can recite it from memory.”
“That is true,” he said.
“Well,” I replied, “we would like to hear it all.”
“That should not be difficult,” he said. “When Antiphon was a young
man, he practiced it diligently, though recently, just like the grandfather
he’s named after, he devotes most of his time to horses. But if you so
wish, let us go to his house. He has just left here to go home; he lives
nearby in Melitē.”
75
76 Plato’s Parmenides
127 Ταῦτα εἰπόντες ἐβαδίζομεν, καὶ κατελάβομεν τὸν Ἀντιφῶντα

οἴκοι, χαλινόν τινα χαλκεῖ ἐκδιδόντα σκευάσαι· ἐπειδὴ δὲ ἐκείνου
ἀπηλλάγη οἵ τε ἀδελφοὶ ἔλεγον αὐτῷ ὧν ἕνεκα παρεῖμεν, ἀνεγνώρισέ
τέ με ἐκ τῆς προτέρας ἐπιδημίας καί με ἠσπάζετο, καὶ δεομένων
ἡμῶν διελθεῖν τοὺς λόγους, τὸ μὲν πρῶτον ὤκνει—πολὺ γὰρ ἔφη
ἔργον εἶναι—ἔπειτα μέντοι διηγεῖτο. ἔφη δὲ δὴ ὁ Ἀντιφῶν λέγειν τὸν
b Πυθόδωρον ὅτι ἀφίκοιντό ποτε εἰς Παναθήναια τὰ μεγάλα Ζήνων τε
καὶ Παρμενίδης. τὸν μὲν οὖν Παρμενίδην εὖ μάλα ἤδη πρεσβύτην
εἶναι, σφόδρα πολιόν, καλὸν δὲ κἀγαθὸν τὴν ὄψιν, περὶ ἔτη μάλιστα
πέντε καὶ ἑξήκοντα· Ζήνωνα δὲ ἐγγὺς ἐτῶν τετταράκοντα τότε εἶναι,
εὐμήκη δὲ καὶ χαρίεντα ἰδεῖν· καὶ λέγεσθαι αὐτὸν παιδικὰ τοῦ
c Παρμενίδου γεγονέναι. καταλύειν δὲ αὐτοὺς ἔφη παρὰ τῷ Πυθοδώρῳ
ἐκτὸς τείχους ἐν Κεραμεικῷ· οἷ δὴ καὶ ἀφικέσθαι τόν τε Σωκράτη
καὶ ἄλλους τινὰς μετ᾿ αὐτοῦ πολλούς, ἐπιθυμοῦντας ἀκοῦσαι τῶν τοῦ
Ζήνωνος γραμμάτων· τότε γὰρ αὐτὰ πρῶτον ὑπ᾿ ἐκείνων κομισθῆναι·
Σωκράτη δὲ εἶναι τότε σφόδρα νέον. ἀναγιγνώσκειν οὖν αὐτοῖς
τὸν Ζήνωνα αὐτόν, τὸν δὲ Παρμενίδην τυχεῖν ἔξω ὄντα· καὶ εἶναι
πάνυ βραχὺ ἔτι λοιπὸν τῶν λόγων ἀναγιγνωσκομένων, ἡνίκα αὐτός
d τε ἐπεισελθεῖν ἔφη ὁ Πυθόδωρος ἔξωθεν καὶ τὸν Παρμενίδην μετ᾿
αὐτοῦ καὶ Ἀριστοτέλη τὸν τῶν τριάκοντα γενόμενον, καὶ σμίκρ᾿ ἄττα
ἔτι ἐπακοῦσαι τῶν γραμμάτων· οὐ μὴν αὐτός γε, ἀλλὰ καὶ πρότερον
ἀκηκοέναι τοῦ Ζήνωνος.
Τὸν οὖν Σωκράτη ἀκούσαντα πάλιν τε κελεῦσαι τὴν πρώτην
ὑπόθεσιν τοῦ πρώτου λόγου ἀναγνῶναι, καὶ ἀναγνωσθείσης·
e “ Πῶς,” φάναι, “ ὦ Ζήνων, τοῦτο λέγεις; εἰ πολλά ἐστι τὰ ὄντα, ὡς
ἄρα δεῖ αὐτὰ ὅμοιά τε εἶναι καὶ ἀνόμοια, τοῦτο δὲ δὴ ἀδύνατον· οὔτε
γὰρ τὰ ἀνόμοια ὅμοια οὔτε τὰ ὅμοια ἀνόμοια οἷόν τε εἶναι; οὐχ οὕτω
λέγεις; ”
“ Οὕτω,” φάναι τὸν Ζήνωνα.
“ Οὐκοῦν εἰ ἀδύνατον τά τε ἀνόμοια ὅμοια εἶναι καὶ τὰ ὅμοια
ἀνόμοια, ἀδύνατον δὴ καὶ πολλὰ εἶναι· εἰ γὰρ πολλὰ εἴη, πάσχοι
ἂν τὰ ἀδύνατα. ἆρα τοῦτό ἐστιν ὃ βούλονταί σου οἱ λόγοι, οὐκ ἄλλο
τι ἢ διαμάχεσθαι παρὰ πάντα τὰ λεγόμενα, ὡς οὐ πολλά ἐστι; καὶ
τούτου αὐτοῦ οἴει σοι τεκμήριον εἶναι ἕκαστον τῶν λόγων, ὥστε καὶ
Text and Translation: 127a–e 77
Having said this, we began walking and found Antiphon at his 127
home, giving a smith a bridle of some kind to work on. When he
discharged the smith and his brothers told him why we had come, he
recognized me from my earlier visit and greeted me. And when we
asked him to repeat the whole conversation, in the beginning he was
unwilling—claiming it was a lot of trouble—but eventually he began
narrating it.
So Antiphon said that he was told by Pythodorus that Zeno and
Parmenides once came for the Great Panathenaea. Parmenides was b
already well along in years, quite white-haired, but of distinguished
appearance, about sixty-five years old. Zeno was then approaching
forty, a tall and graceful sight—it was said he had been Parmenides’
favorite pupil.3 Antiphon said that they were staying with Pythodorus,
in Keramikos, outside the city wall, and that Socrates had come there, c
together with many others, wishing to hear a reading of Zeno’s writ-
ings, which he and Parmenides had just brought to Athens for the
first time. Socrates was then very young. Zeno himself read to them;
Parmenides happened to be outside. The reading of the arguments was
almost over, Pythodorus said, when he came in from outside together d
with Parmenides and Aristoteles—the man who later became one of
the Thirty—and they listened to what little remained to be heard. But
Pythodorus himself had heard Zeno read it before.
When the reading was over, Socrates asked Zeno to read the first
hypothesis of the first argument again, and when it was read, Socrates
said, “Zeno, what do you mean by this: ‘if the “things that are” are e
many, they must then be both like and unlike, but that is impossible;
for neither can what is unlike be like nor what is like be unlike’? Isn’t
that what you are saying?”
“It is,” said Zeno.
“So, if it is impossible for the unlike to be like and the like to be unlike,
then, is it not also impossible for either of them to be many? For if they
were many, they would be subjected to many impossibilities. Is this the
gist of your arguments, to maintain—despite everything that is [com-
monly] said4 —that the ‘many are not’? And do you think that each of
your arguments is a proof for just that, so that you suppose you have
3 The word paidika in this context may indicate that Zeno was not only
Parmenides’ favorite pupil, but also his lover.
4 Cf. “what is commonly said” with Parmenides’ ta dokounta, B1.31, and
the principal aim of a dialectic exercise to target an opinion that is generally
accepted.
78 Plato’s Parmenides: 127e–128d
ἡγεῖ τοσαῦτα τεκμήρια παρέχεσθαι, ὅσουσπερ λόγους γέγραφας, ὡς

128 οὐκ ἔστι πολλά; οὕτω λέγεις, ἢ ἐγὼ οὐκ ὀρθῶς καταμανθάνω; ”
“ Οὔκ, ἀλλά,” φάναι τὸν Ζήνωνα, “ καλῶς συνῆκας ὅλον τὸ γράμμα
ὃ βούλεται.”
“ Μανθάνω,” εἰπεῖν τὸν Σωκράτη, “ ὦ Παρμενίδη, ὅτι Ζήνων
ὅδε οὐ μόνον τῇ ἄλλῃ σου φιλίᾳ βούλεται ᾠκειῶσθαι,5 ἀλλὰ καὶ τῷ
συγγράμματι. ταὐτὸν γὰρ γέγραφε τρόπον τινὰ ὅπερ6 σύ, μεταβάλλων
δὲ ἡμᾶς πειρᾶται ἐξαπατᾶν ὡς ἕτερόν τι λέγων. σὺ μὲν γὰρ ἐν τοῖς
b ποιήμασιν ἓν φῂς εἶναι τὸ πᾶν, καὶ τούτων τεκμήρια παρέχει καλῶς
τε καὶ εὖ· ὅδε δὲ αὖ οὐ πολλά φησιν εἶναι, τεκμήρια δὲ καὶ αὐτὸς
παμπολλα καὶ παμμεγέθη παρέχεται. τὸ οὖν τὸν μὲν ἓν φάναι, τὸν δὲ
μὴ πολλά, καὶ οὕτως ἑκάτερον λέγειν ὥστε μηδὲν τῶν αὐτῶν εἰρηκέναι
δοκεῖν σχεδόν τι λέγοντας ταὐτά, ὑπὲρ ἡμᾶς τοὺς ἄλλους φαίνεται
ὑμῖν τὰ εἰρημένα εἰρῆσθαι.”
“ Ναί,” φάναι τὸν Ζήνωνα, “ ὦ Σώκρατες. σὺ δ᾿ οὖν τὴν
c ἀλήθειαν τοῦ γράμματος οὐ πανταχοῦ ᾔσθησαι· καίτοι ὥσπερ γε
αἱ Λάκαιναι σκύλακες εὖ μεταθεῖς τε καὶ ἰχνεύεις τὰ λεχθέντα·
ἀλλὰ πρῶτον μέν σε τοῦτο λανθάνει, ὅτι οὐ παντάπασιν οὕτω
σεμνύνεται τὸ γράμμα, ὥστε ἅπερ σὺ λέγεις διανοηθὲν γραφῆναι,
τοὺς ἀνθρώπους δὲ ἐπικρυπτόμενον ὥς τι μέγα διαπραττόμενον·
ἀλλὰ σὺ μὲν εἶπες τῶν συμβεβηκότων τι, ἔστι δὲ τό γε ἀληθὲς
βοήθειά τις ταῦτα τὰ γράμματα τῷ Παρμενίδου λόγῳ πρὸς
d τοὺς ἐπιχειροῦντας αὐτὸν κωμῳδεῖν ὡς εἰ ἕν ἐστι, πολλὰ καὶ
γελοῖα συμβαίνει πάσχειν τῷ λόγῳ καὶ ἐναντία αὑτῷ. ἀντιλέγει
δὴ οὖν τοῦτο τὸ γράμμα πρὸς τοὺς τὰ πολλὰ λέγοντας, καὶ
ἀνταποδίδωσι ταὐτὰ7 καὶ πλείω τοῦτο βουλόμενον δηλοῦν, ὡς ἔτι
γελοιότερα πάσχοι ἂν αὐτῶν ἡ ὑπόθεσις, εἰ πολλά ἐστιν, ἢ ἡ
5 οἰκειῶσθαι BT: corr B2t.

6 ὅπερ Proclus: ὅνπερ B: ὅ*περ T.
7 ταὐτὰ Schleiermacher: ταῦτα B: om. T.
Text and Translation: 127e–128e 79
provided as many proofs that ‘the many are not’, as you have written
down arguments? Is this what you are saying—or did I misunderstand?” 128
“No,” Zeno replied. “Quite the contrary, you have grasped well the
general intent of the work.”
“Parmenides,” Socrates said, “I understand that Zeno here wants to
associate himself with you not only in friendship but also otherwise
with his writings. For he has, in a way, written the same thing as you,
but by reversing it he tries to deceive us into thinking he is saying
something different. You say in your poems ‘the all is one’, and you b
provide excellent and fine proofs of this. He, in turn, says that ‘it is not
many’ and he himself also provides a vast number of very great proofs.
So while the one says ‘one’, and the other ‘not many’—and though
you almost say the same—you seem in this way to have said nothing
of the same. Thus to the rest of us, it seems that what you have said
is quite beyond us.”
“Yes, Socrates,” said Zeno. “Still, you haven’t fully perceived the truth c
about my work, even though you track down its arguments as the Spartan
hounds do, following their traces swiftly. First, you have missed this point:
the work does not pride itself on having been written with the intent
you have ascribed to it, namely, disguising itself from people, as if that
were some great accomplishment. What you have mentioned is merely
accidental. The truth is that the work provides support for Parmenides’
argument against those who try to make fun of it by claiming that ‘if d
it 8 is one’, many absurdities and contradictions follow that argument.9
My work speaks against the advocates of the many and pays them back
the same and more, since it aims to show that their hypothesis, ‘if it is
many’, would, if someone examined it thoroughly, suffer even more
absurdities than those suffered by the hypothesis ‘if 10 it is one’. It was out
of such love of combat,11 while I was still young, that I wrote it. Someone
stole it after it was written, so I did not even have a chance to consider e
8 “If the all is one,” see πᾶν above in 128a.

9 Compare Socrates’ claims regarding hen (in 128a–b) to Zeno’s “if it is one” (εἰ
ἕν ἐστι) in 128d, and “it is one” (ἓν εἶναι, also 128d) to Parmenides’ “whether
it is one (or not one)” (εἴτε ἕν ἐστιν) in 137b and what must be considered the
standard formulation “if it is one” (εἰ ἕν ἐστιν) in 137c, the expressed object
of inquiry at the beginning of Argument I. (See also Gill, Plato: Parmenides,
66; Kahn, Parmenides chapter [a work in progress on Plato’s later dialogues].)
10 Although it is only implied in the Greek, we have retained the “if” clause of
the hypothesis in order to remain true to previous formulations, instead of
adapting “that it is one,” i.e., a more modern form of presenting a hypothesis.
11 The word philoneikia literally means the ‘love of quarrel’.
τοῦ ἓν εἶναι, εἴ τις ἱκανῶς ἐπεξίοι. διὰ τοιαύτην δὴ φιλονικίαν ὑπὸ

e νέου ὄντος ἐμοῦ ἐγράφη, καί τις αὐτὸ ἔκλεψε γραφέν, ὥστε οὐδὲ
βουλεύσασθαι ἐξεγένετο εἴτ᾿ ἐξοιστέον αὐτὸ εἰς τὸ φῶς εἴτε μή. ταύτῃ
οὖν σε λανθάνει, ὦ Σώκρατες, ὅτι οὐχ ὑπὸ νέου φιλονικίας οἴει αὐτὸ
γεγράφθαι, ἀλλ᾿ ὑπὸ πρεσβυτέρου φιλοτιμίας· ἐπεί, ὅπερ γ᾿ εἶπον,
οὐ κακῶς ἀπείκασας.”
“ Ἀλλ᾿ ἀποδέχομαι,” φάναι τὸν Σωκράτη, “ καὶ ἡγοῦμαι ὡς λέγεις
ἔχειν. τόδε δέ μοι εἰπέ· οὐ νομίζεις εἶναι αὐτὸ καθ᾿ αὑτὸ εἶδός τι
129 ὁμοιότητος, καὶ τῷ τοιούτῳ αὖ ἄλλο τι ἐναντίον, ὃ ἔστιν ἀνόμοιον·
τούτοιν δὲ δυοῖν ὄντοιν καὶ ἐμὲ καὶ σὲ καὶ τἆλλα ἃ δὴ πολλὰ καλοῦμεν
μεταλαμβάνειν; καὶ τὰ μὲν τῆς ὁμοιότητος μεταλαμβάνοντα ὅμοια
γίγνεσθαι ταύτῃ τε καὶ κατὰ τοσοῦτον ὅσον ἂν μεταλαμβάνῃ, τὰ
δὲ τῆς ἀνομοιότητος ἀνόμοια, τὰ δὲ ἀμφοτέρων ἀμφότερα; εἰ δὲ καὶ
πάντα ἐναντίων ὄντων ἀμφοτέρων μεταλαμβάνει, καὶ ἔστι τῷ μετέχειν
b ἀμφοῖν ὅμοιά τε καὶ ἀνόμοια αὐτὰ αὑτοῖς, τί θαυμαστόν; εἰ μὲν γὰρ
αὐτὰ τὰ ὅμοιά τις ἀπέφαινεν ἀνόμοια γιγνόμενα ἢ τὰ ἀνόμοια ὅμοια,
τέρας ἂν, οἶμαι, ἦν· εἰ δὲ τὰ τούτων μετέχοντα ἀμφοτέρων ἀμφότερα
ἀποφαίνει πεπονθότα, οὐδὲν ἔμοιγε, ὦ Ζήνων, ἄτοπον δοκεῖ εἶναι, οὐδέ
γε εἰ ἓν ἅπαντα ἀποφαίνει τις τῷ μετέχειν τοῦ ἑνὸς καὶ ταὐτὰ ταῦτα
πολλὰ τῷ πλήθους αὖ μετέχειν· ἀλλ᾿ εἰ ὃ ἔστιν ἕν, αὐτὸ τοῦτο πολλὰ
c ἀποδείξει καὶ αὖ τὰ πολλὰ δὴ ἕν, τοῦτο ἤδη θαυμάσομαι. καὶ περὶ τῶν
ἄλλων ἁπάντων ὡσαύτως· εἰ μὲν αὐτὰ τὰ γένη τε καὶ εἴδη ἐν αὑτοῖς
ἀποφαίνοι τἀναντία ταῦτα πάθη πάσχοντα, ἄξιον θαυμάζειν· εἰ δ᾿
ἐμὲ ἕν τις ἀποδείξει ὄντα καὶ πολλά, τί θαυμαστόν, λέγων, ὅταν μὲν
βούληται πολλὰ ἀποφαίνειν, ὡς ἕτερα μὲν τὰ ἐπὶ δεξιά μού ἐστιν, ἕτερα
δὲ τὰ ἐπ᾿ ἀριστερά, καὶ ἕτερα μὲν τὰ πρόσθεν, ἕτερα δὲ τὰ ὄπισθεν,
d καὶ ἄνω καὶ κάτω ὡσαύτως· πλήθους γὰρ, οἶμαι, μετέχω· ὅταν δὲ ἕν,
ἐρεῖ ὡς ἑπτὰ ἡμῶν ὄντων εἷς ἐγώ εἰμι ἄνθρωπος μετέχων καὶ τοῦ ἑνός·
Text and Translation: 128e–129d 81
whether or not it should see the light. So in this way you have missed
the point, Socrates: you think it was written not out of a young man’s
love of combat, but out of a mature man’s love of honors. Still, as have
I said, you portrayed it quite well.”
“I accept,” Socrates said, “and I believe it was as you say. But tell me,
do you not think that there is a Form, itself by itself,12 of ‘likeness’,
and in the same way, another Form opposite of it that is ‘unlike’, and 129
that in these two, you and I and the other things we call many, par-
ticipate? And do things that participate in likeness become like in the
manner and to the extent that they participate in [likeness], whereas
those that participate in unlikeness become unlike, and those that
participate in both become both? And even if all [things] partake in
both in spite of being opposites, and if by participating in both they
are both like and unlike themselves, what is astonishing about that?
But if someone showed that the likes themselves come to be unlike or b
the unlikes like, now that would be a wondrous thing in my opinion.
If he shows, however, that the things that partake in both of these [the
like and unlike] are subjected to both, for me there is nothing strange
about that, Zeno—not even if he shows that all things are one by
participating in the one, and that the same [all things] are also many
by participating in multitude. But if he demonstrates that that which
is one is itself many, and in turn that the many is one, then I will be c
astonished at that. And likewise for all the other things of the same
character: if he showed that the Kinds and Forms in and by themselves
would be subjected to these opposite qualifications,13 this would merit
astonishment. But if someone should show that I am both one and
many, what is so astonishing about that? When he intends to show
that I am many, he says that my right side is different from my left,
and my front different from my back, and likewise with my upper
and lower parts—for, I believe, I do partake of multitude. But when
he intends to show that I am one [thing], he will say I am one man d
among the seven of us; since I also partake of oneness, he therefore
proves both to be true. So if someone attempts to show that the same
things—such as stones and sticks and the like—are [both] many and
one, then we will say that he demonstrates these to be many and one,
12 Cf. Parmenides B8.29.

13 Pathos is translated here as ‘qualification’ instead of the literal but obsolete
‘affection’. We choose this not in an attempt to evoke Aristotelian terminology
but to establish, as far as possible, a rendering in English that, while being
both literal and consistent, also reflects modern English usage.
ὥστε ἀληθῆ ἀποφαίνει ἀμφότερα. ἐὰν οὖν τις τοιαῦτα ἐπιχειρῇ πολλὰ
καὶ ἓν ταὐτὰ ἀποφαίνειν, λίθους καὶ ξύλα καὶ τὰ τοιαῦτα, φήσομεν
αὐτὸν πολλὰ καὶ ἓν ἀποδεικνύναι, οὐ τὸ ἓν πολλὰ οὐδὲ τὰ πολλὰ ἕν,
οὐδέ τι θαυμαστὸν λέγειν, ἀλλ᾿ ἅπερ ἂν πάντες ὁμολογοῖμεν· ἐὰν δέ
τις, ὃ νῦν δὴ ἐγὼ ἔλεγον, πρῶτον μὲν διαιρῆται χωρὶς αὐτὰ καθ᾿ αὑτὰ
e τὰ εἴδη, οἷον ὁμοιότητά τε καὶ ἀνομοιότητα καὶ πλῆθος καὶ τὸ ἓν
καὶ στάσιν καὶ κίνησιν καὶ πάντα τὰ τοιαῦτα, εἶτα ἐν ἑαυτοῖς ταῦτα
δυνάμενα συγκεράννυσθαι καὶ διακρίνεσθαι ἀποφαίνῃ, ἀγαίμην ἂν
ἔγωγ᾿, ” ἔφη, “ θαυμαστῶς, ὦ Ζήνων. ταῦτα δὲ ἀνδρείως μὲν πάνυ
ἡγοῦμαι πεπραγματεῦσθαι· πολὺ μέντ᾿ ἂν ὧδε μᾶλλον, ὡς λέγω,
ἀγασθείην, εἴ τις ἔχοι τὴν αὐτὴν ταύτην ἀπορίαν ἐν αὐτοῖς τοῖς εἴδεσι
130 παντοδαπῶς πλεκομένην, ὥσπερ ἐν τοῖς ὁρωμένοις διήλθετε, οὕτως
καὶ ἐν τοῖς λογισμῷ λαμβανομένοις ἐπιδεῖξαι.”
Λέγοντος δή, ἔφη ὁ Πυθόδωρος, τοῦ Σωκράτους ταῦτα αὐτὸς
μὲν ἂν14 οἴεσθαι ἐφ᾿ ἑκάστου ἄχθεσθαι τόν τε Παρμενίδην καὶ
τὸν Ζήνωνα, τοὺς δὲ πάνυ τε αὐτῷ προσέχειν τὸν νοῦν καὶ θαμὰ εἰς
ἀλλήλους βλέποντας μειδιᾶν ὡς ἀγαμένους τὸν Σωκράτη. ὅπερ οὖν
b καὶ παυσαμένου αὐτοῦ εἰπεῖν τὸν Παρμενίδην· “ ὦ Σώκρατες,” φάναι,
“ ὡς ἄξιος εἶ ἄγασθαι τῆς ὁρμῆς τῆς ἐπὶ τοὺς λόγους. καί μοι εἰπέ,
αὐτὸς σὺ οὕτω διῄρησαι ὡς λέγεις, χωρὶς μὲν εἴδη αὐτὰ ἄττα, χωρὶς δὲ
τὰ τούτων αὖ μετέχοντα; καί τί σοι δοκεῖ εἶναι αὐτὴ ὁμοιότης χωρὶς
ἧς ἡμεῖς ὁμοιότητος ἔχομεν, καὶ ἓν δὴ καὶ πολλὰ καὶ πάντα ὅσα νῦν
δὴ Ζήνωνος ἤκουες; ”
“ Ἔμοιγε,” φάναι τὸν Σωκράτη.
“ Ἦ καὶ τὰ τοιάδε,” εἰπεῖν τὸν Παρμενίδην, “ οἷον δικαίου τι εἶδος
αὐτὸ καθ᾿ αὑτὸ καὶ καλοῦ καὶ ἀγαθοῦ καὶ πάντων αὖ τῶν τοιούτων; ”
“ Ναί,” φάναι.
14 ἂν add. Burnet.
Text and Translation: 129d–130b 83
and not that ‘the one’ is many, nor ‘the many’ one, nor that he is saying
anything astonishing, but rather what everybody could agree to. But
if someone first distinguishes the Forms, themselves by themselves,
separately from the things I have just mentioned [i.e., stones, sticks]—
such as ‘likeness’ and ‘unlikeness’, ‘multitude’ and ‘oneness’, ‘rest’ and
‘motion’,15 and everything of this kind—and afterwards shows that in e
themselves these can be combined and separated, then, Zeno,” he said,
“I for one would be very much astonished. Now, I believe you have
dealt with these matters quite boldly. But, as I say, I would be much
more amazed if someone were able to demonstrate that this very same
difficulty—which you and Parmenides went through on behalf of the 130
visible things—is also interwoven in omnifarious ways in the Forms
themselves, and thus in things that are grasped by reasoning.”16
While Socrates was saying this, Pythodorus said, he himself thought
that Parmenides and Zeno would become irritated with each word;
instead, they both paid close attention to Socrates and frequently
exchanged glances and smiled as though they admired him. In fact,
when Socrates had finished, Parmenides said: “Socrates, how admirable b
is your zest for argument! But tell me: do you yourself draw the distinc-
tion you speak of, separating on one hand certain Forms by themselves,
and on the other the things that partake of them? And do you think that
‘likeness’ itself is something [entirely] separate from the likeness that we
share? And also ‘one’ and ‘many’ and all the [other] things you heard
just now from Zeno?”
“Yes, I do,” said Socrates.
“And of such, too, there is a Form, itself by itself, of ‘just’ and ‘beauti-
ful’ and ‘good’ and everything of that kind?”
“Yes,” he replied.
15 Plato uses kinēsis or ‘change’ here instead of pheresthai ‘change of place’ (cf.
138b–138c). But as the relevant arguments demonstrate (cf. Part II), ‘motion’
is the proper counterpart to ‘rest’, not ‘change’.
16 By asking for a demonstration of combining and separating the qualifications/
qualifiers/Forms, Socrates is requesting a kind of demonstration that, as it turns
out, only the Eight Arguments of the Second Part can offer; cf. Argument I,
IV, VI, and VIII for ‘separating’ (i.e., ‘neither/nor’), and II, III, V, and VII
for ‘combining’ (i.e., ‘both’). This is one of the clues to the link between the
so-called First Part of the dialogue and the Second. Thus, the problems posed
by the First Part are answered by the Second.
c “ Τί δ᾿, ἀνθρώπου εἶδος χωρὶς ἡμῶν καὶ τῶν οἷοι ἡμεῖς ἐσμὲν
πάντων, αὐτό τι εἶδος ἀνθρώπου ἢ πυρὸς ἢ καὶ ὕδατος; ”
“ Ἐν ἀπορίᾳ,” φάναι, “ πολλάκις δή, ὦ Παρμενίδη, περὶ αὐτῶν
γέγονα, πότερα χρὴ φάναι ὥσπερ περὶ ἐκείνων ἢ ἄλλως.”
“ Ἦ καὶ περὶ τῶνδε, ὦ Σώκρατες, ἃ καὶ γελοῖα δόξειεν ἂν
εἶναι, οἷον θρὶξ καὶ πηλὸς καὶ ῥύπος ἢ ἄλλο τι ἀτιμότατόν τε καὶ
d φαυλότατον, ἀπορεῖς εἴτε χρὴ φάναι καὶ τούτων ἑκάστου εἶδος εἶναι
χωρίς, ὂν ἄλλο αὖ τῶν ὧν17 ἡμεῖς μεταχειριζόμεθα, εἴτε καὶ μή; ”
“ Οὐδαμῶς,” φάναι τὸν Σωκράτη, “ ἀλλὰ ταῦτα μέν γε ἅπερ ὁρῶμεν,
ταῦτα καὶ εἶναι· εἶδος δέ τι αὐτῶν οἰηθῆναι εἶναι μὴ λίαν ᾖ ἄτοπον.
ἤδη μέντοι ποτέ με καὶ ἔθραξε μή τι ᾖ περὶ πάντων ταὐτόν· ἔπειτα
ὅταν ταύτῃ στῶ, φεύγων οἴχομαι, δείσας μή ποτε εἴς τινα βυθὸν
φλυαρίας18 ἐμπεσὼν διαφθαρῶ· ἐκεῖσε δ᾿ οὖν ἀφικόμενος, εἰς ἃ νῦν
δὴ ἐλέγομεν εἴδη ἔχειν, περὶ ἐκεῖνα πραγματευόμενος διατρίβω.”
e “ Νέος γὰρ εἶ ἔτι,” φάναι τὸν Παρμενίδην, “ ὦ Σώκρατες, καὶ οὔπω
σου ἀντείληπται φιλοσοφία ὡς ἔτι ἀντιλήψεται κατ᾿ ἐμὴν δόξαν, ὅτε
οὐδὲν αὐτῶν ἀτιμάσεις· νῦν δὲ ἔτι πρὸς ἀνθρώπων ἀποβλέπεις δόξας
διὰ τὴν ἡλικίαν.
Τόδε οὖν μοι εἰπέ. δοκεῖ σοι, ὡς φῄς, εἶναι εἴδη ἄττα, ὧν τάδε τὰ
131 ἄλλα μεταλαμβάνοντα τὰς ἐπωνυμίας αὐτῶν ἴσχειν, οἷον ὁμοιότητος
μὲν μεταλαβόντα ὅμοια, μεγέθους δὲ μεγάλα, κάλλους δὲ καὶ
δικαιοσύνης δίκαιά τε καὶ καλὰ γίγνεσθαι; ”
“ Πάνυ γε,” φάναι τὸν Σωκράτη.
“ Οὐκοῦν ἤτοι ὅλου τοῦ εἴδους ἢ μέρους ἕκαστον τὸ μεταλαμβάνον
μεταλαμβάνει; ἢ ἄλλη τις ἂν μετάληψις χωρὶς τούτων γένοιτο; ”
“ Καὶ πῶς ἄν; ” εἶπεν.
“ Πότερον οὖν δοκεῖ σοι ὅλον τὸ εἶδος ἐν ἑκάστῳ εἶναι τῶν πολλῶν
ἓν ὄν, ἢ πῶς; ”
“ Τί γὰρ κωλύει,” φάναι τὸν Σωκράτη, “ ὦ Παρμενίδη, ἐνεῖναι19; ”
b “ Ἓν ἄρα ὂν καὶ ταὐτὸν ἐν πολλοῖς καὶ χωρὶς οὖσιν ὅλον ἅμα
ἐνέσται, καὶ οὕτως αὐτὸ αὑτοῦ χωρὶς ἂν εἴη.”
17 αὖ τῶν ὧν Heindorf: αὐτῶν ἢ ὧν BT.

18 φλυαρίας Par. 1836, Proclus (CD), Syenesius, Origines: φλυαρίαν BT.
19 ἐνεῖναι Schleiermacher: ἓν εἶναι BT: secl. Burnet.
Text and Translation: 130c–131b 85
“What about a Form of ‘human being’, distinct from us, and all those c
like us? Is there by itself a Form of ‘human being’, or of ‘fire’, or else
of ‘water’?”
Socrates said, “I have indeed often been puzzled about these, Parmenides,
whether I should speak about them in the same way as I speak about
the others [above] or differently.”
“And what about these, Socrates, things that might appear ludicrous,
like ‘hair’ and ‘mud’ and ‘dirt’, or anything else altogether worthless
and base? Are you puzzled whether or not you should say that there is d
a distinct Form for each of these also, one which is again other than
anything we can grasp with our hands?”
“Not at all,” Socrates answered. “These things are indeed precisely
what we are seeing. But to even suppose that there is some Form for
them would be utterly absurd. Still, I am troubled at times whether
the same [principle] shouldn’t apply in all cases. I then get stuck at
this point, only to scurry away fearing that I might fall into a pit of
nonsense and come to harm. But when I return to the things we just
said have Forms, I abide there and devote myself to them.”
“That is because you are still young, Socrates,” said Parmenides, “and e
philosophy has not taken hold of you yet as, in my opinion, it will in
the future, once you stop belittling any of these things. Now, though,
you still care about other people’s opinions because of your age. But
tell me, do you think that, as you say, there are certain Forms, from
which these other things, by participation, derive their names, as, for 131
instance, by partaking of ‘likeness’ they become ‘like’, by partaking of
‘largeness’ they become ‘large’, by partaking of ‘beauty’ and ‘justice’,
they become ‘beautiful’ and ‘just’?”
“Certainly,” Socrates replied.
“So does each thing that partakes of a Form partake of the whole
[Form] or [only] of part of it? Or could there be some other means of
partaking aside from these?”
“How could there be?” he said.
“Do you believe, then, that the Form as a whole—since it is one—is
in each of the many, or what?”
“What is to prevent it from being in [each], Parmenides?” said Socrates.
“So, being one and the same, it will be, as a whole, simultaneously in b
things that are many and separate, and consequently, [the Form] would
be separate from itself.”
“ Οὐκ ἄν, εἴ γε,” φάναι, “ οἷον20 ἡμέρα21 μία καὶ ἡ αὐτὴ οὖσα
πολλαχοῦ ἅμα ἐστὶ καὶ οὐδέν τι μᾶλλον αὐτὴ αὑτῆς χωρίς ἐστιν, εἰ
οὕτω καὶ ἕκαστον τῶν εἰδῶν ἓν ἐν πᾶσιν ἅμα ταὐτὸν εἴη.”
“ Ἡδέως γε,” φάναι, “ ὦ Σώκρατες, ἓν ταὐτὸν ἅμα πολλαχοῦ ποιεῖς,
οἷον εἰ ἱστίῳ καταπετάσας πολλοὺς ἀνθρώπους φαίης ἓν ἐπὶ πολλοῖς
c εἶναι ὅλον. ἢ οὐ τὸ τοιοῦτον ἡγεῖ λέγειν; ”
“ Ἴσως,” φάναι.
“ Ἦ οὖν ὅλον ἐφ᾿ ἑκάστῳ τὸ ἱστίον εἴη ἄν, ἢ μέρος αὐτοῦ ἄλλο
ἐπ᾿ ἄλλῳ; ”
“ Μέρος.”
“ Μεριστὰ ἄρα,” φάναι, “ ὦ Σώκρατες, ἔστιν αὐτὰ τὰ εἴδη, καὶ τὰ
μετέχοντα αὐτῶν μέρους ἂν μετέχοι, καὶ οὐκέτι ἐν ἑκάστῳ ὅλον, ἀλλὰ
μέρος ἑκάστου ἂν εἴη.”
“ Φαίνεται οὕτω γε.”
“ Ἦ οὖν ἐθελήσεις, ὦ Σώκρατες, φάναι τὸ ἓν εἶδος ἡμῖν τῇ ἀληθείᾳ
μερίζεσθαι, καὶ ἔτι ἓν ἔσται; ”
“ Οὐδαμῶς,” εἰπεῖν.
d “ Ὅρα γάρ, φάναι· “ εἰ αὐτὸ τὸ μέγεθος μεριεῖς καὶ ἕκαστον τῶν
πολλῶν μεγάλων μεγέθους μέρει σμικροτέρῳ αὐτοῦ τοῦ μεγέθους
μέγα ἔσται, ἆρα οὐκ ἄλογον φανεῖται; ”
“ Πάνυ γ᾿, ” ἔφη.
“ Τί δέ; τοῦ ἴσου μέρος22 ἕκαστον σμικρὸν ἀπολαβόν τι ἕξει ᾧ
ἐλάττονι ὄντι αὐτοῦ τοῦ ἴσου τὸ ἔχον ἴσον τῳ ἔσται; ”
“ Ἀδύνατον.”
“ Ἀλλὰ τοῦ σμικροῦ μέρος τις ἡμῶν ἕξει, τούτου δὲ αὐτοῦ τὸ
σμικρὸν μεῖζον ἔσται ἅτε μέρους ἑαυτοῦ ὄντος, καὶ οὕτω δὴ αὐτὸ
e τὸ σμικρὸν μεῖζον ἔσται· ᾧ δ᾿ ἂν προστεθῇ τὸ ἀφαιρεθέν, τοῦτο
σμικρότερον ἔσται ἀλλ᾿ οὐ μεῖζον ἢ πρίν.”
20 οἷον εἰ BT: οἷον Proclus.

21 ἡμέρα εἴη BT: εἴη secl. Heindorf.
22 μέρος Proclus: μέρους BT (corr. t).
Text and Translation: 131b–131e 87
“No, it would not,” he replied. “At least not if it were like the one and
the same day, which is in many places simultaneously, without at all
being separate from itself. If it is in this way, each of the Forms too
might be, simultaneously, one and the same in all things.”
“How nicely, Socrates,” he said, “you make one and the same thing
be in many places at the same time! It is as if you were to spread a sail
over many people, and then claim that one thing as a whole is over
many. Or is this not the sort of thing you suggest?” c
“Perhaps,” he replied.
“Now, then, would the sail be, as a whole, over each person, or part of
it over one and another part over another?”
“Part.”
“So the Forms themselves are divisible, Socrates,” he said, “and things
that partake of them would partake of a part; and no longer would a
whole [Form] be in each thing, but only a part of it.”
“It does appear that way.”
“Well then, Socrates, are you now willing to assert that the one Form
is in truth divided for us, and [then] will it still be one?”
“In no way,” he replied.
“For consider this,” Parmenides said. “If you divide ‘largeness’ itself, d
and each of the many large things is to be large by virtue of being a
part of ‘largeness’, which [in turn] is smaller than ‘largeness’ itself—will
this not seem nonsensical?”
“It certainly will,” he replied.
“What about this? Will each thing that has received a small part of ‘the
equal’ possess something that makes it equal to anything else, when
what it has is less than ‘the equal’ itself?”
“That is impossible.”
“But suppose that one of us will have a part of ‘the small’. ‘The small’
itself will be larger than this part, since the latter is a part of it, and
thus ‘the small’ [itself] will be ‘large’. But if what was taken away [from
‘the small’] is added to anything, that will be smaller, and not larger, e
than it was before.”23
23 Plato aims to demonstrate that one cannot apply physical criteria to abstracts,
just as before he showed that abstract criteria cannot be applied to tangible
things.
“ Οὐκ ἂν γένοιτο,” φάναι, “ τοῦτό γε.”

“ Τίνα οὖν τρόπον,” εἰπεῖν, “ ὦ Σώκρατες, τῶν εἰδῶν σοι τὰ
ἄλλα μεταλήψεται, μήτε κατὰ μέρη μήτε κατὰ ὅλα μεταλαμβάνειν
δυνάμενα; ”
“ Οὐ μὰ τὸν Δία,” φάναι, “ οὔ μοι δοκεῖ εὔκολον εἶναι τὸ τοιοῦτον
οὐδαμῶς διορίσασθαι.”
“ Τί δὲ δή; πρὸς τόδε πῶς ἔχεις; ”
“ Τὸ ποῖον; ”
132 Οἶμαί σε ἐκ τοῦ τοιοῦδε ἓν ἕκαστον εἶδος οἴεσθαι εἶναι· ὅταν πόλλ᾿
ἄττα μεγάλα σοι δόξῃ εἶναι, μία τις ἴσως δοκεῖ ἰδέα ἡ αὐτὴ εἶναι ἐπὶ
πάντα ἰδόντι, ὅθεν ἓν τὸ μέγα ἡγεῖ εἶναι.”
“ Ἀληθῆ λέγεις,” φάναι.
“ Τί δ᾿ αὐτὸ τὸ μέγα καὶ τἆλλα τὰ μεγάλα, ἐὰν ὡσαύτως τῇ ψυχῇ
ἐπὶ πάντα ἴδῃς, οὐχὶ ἕν τι αὖ μέγα φανεῖται, ᾧ ταῦτα πάντα ἀνάγκη24
μεγάλα φαίνεσθαι; ”
“ Ἔοικεν.”
“ Ἄλλο ἄρα εἶδος μεγέθους ἀναφανήσεται, παρ᾿ αὐτό τε τὸ
b μέγεθος γεγονὸς καὶ τὰ μετέχοντα αὐτοῦ· καὶ ἐπὶ τούτοις αὖ πᾶσιν
ἕτερον, ᾧ ταῦτα πάντα μεγάλα ἔσται· καὶ οὐκέτι δὴ ἓν ἕκαστόν σοι
τῶν εἰδῶν ἔσται, ἀλλ᾿ ἄπειρα τὸ πλῆθος.”
“ Ἀλλά,” φάναι, “ ὦ Παρμενίδη,” τὸν Σωκράτη, “ μὴ τῶν εἰδῶν
ἕκαστον ᾖ τούτων νόημα, καὶ οὐδαμοῦ αὐτῷ προσήκῃ25 ἐγγίγνεσθαι
ἄλλοθι ἢ ἐν ψυχαῖς· οὕτω γὰρ ἂν ἕν γε ἕκαστον εἴη καὶ οὐκ ἂν ἔτι
πάσχοι ἃ νῦν δὴ ἐλέγετο.”
“ Τί οὖν; ” φάναι, “ ἓν ἕκαστόν ἐστι τῶν νοημάτων, νόημα δὲ
οὐδενός; ”
“ Ἀλλ᾿ ἀδύνατον,” εἰπεῖν.
“ Ἀλλὰ τινός; ”
“ Ναί.”
24 ἀνάγκη om. B.
25 προσήκῃ Proclus: προσήκει BT.
Text and Translation: 131e–132b 89
“This could not happen,” he said.

“Then in what way, Socrates,” he said, “will the other things partake of
your Forms, if they cannot partake of them either as parts or as wholes?”
“By Zeus!” Socrates said. “This sort of thing seems to me not entirely
easy to determine!”
“What then? And what do you think of this?”
“Of what?”
“I suppose you believe that each Form is one for the following reason: 132
whenever a number of things appear to you to be large, it would seem
that the one and the same concept applies to all of them; therefore,
you would presume that ‘the large’ is one [i.e., a singular concept].”
“What you say is true,” he said.
“Yet what about ‘the large’ [itself] and the other things that are large?
If you regard all things the same way in your mind’s eye, will not yet
again one large [thing] make its appearance by which all those [things]
necessarily appear large?”
“So it would seem.”
“So another Form of ‘largeness’ will appear again alongside the ‘large-
ness’ that has come to be and the things that partake in it; and, in b
addition to all those still another [will appear] by reason of which all
those will be large. So each of your Forms will no longer be one, but
unlimited in multitude.”26
“But, Parmenides,” said Socrates, “perhaps each of the Forms is [sim-
ply] a thought [about these things], and it would not be proper for it
to occur anywhere else but in our minds.27 In this way, each of them
would be one and no longer would be affected by what was just said.”28
“What then?” Parmenides asked. “Is each of these thoughts one, but
yet a thought 29 of nothing?”
“No, that’s impossible,” he said.
“Of something, rather?”
“Yes.”
26 I.e., an indefinite number.

27 Noetic part of the soul; cf. the Phaedo.
28 Cf. Parmenides B4: “things . . . securely present to the mind,” not affected
by being “dispersed” or “gathered.”
29 I.e., the thought itself.
c “ Ὄντος ἢ οὐκ ὄντος; ”

“ Ὄντος.”
“ Οὐχ ἑνός τινος, ὃ ἐπὶ πᾶσιν ἐκεῖνο τὸ νόημα ἐπὸν νοεῖ,30 μίαν
τινὰ οὖσαν ἰδέαν; ”
“ Ναί.”
“ Εἶτα οὐκ εἶδος ἔσται τοῦτο τὸ νοούμενον ἓν εἶναι, ἀεὶ ὂν τὸ αὐτὸ
ἐπὶ πᾶσιν; ”
“ Ἀνάγκη αὖ φαίνεται.”
“ Τί δὲ δή; ” εἰπεῖν τὸν Παρμενίδην, “ οὐκ ἀνάγκῃ ᾗ31 τἆλλα φῂς
τῶν εἰδῶν μετέχειν ἢ δοκεῖ σοι ἐκ νοημάτων ἕκαστον εἶναι καὶ πάντα
d νοεῖν, ἢ νοήματα ὄντα ἀνόητα εἶναι; ”
“ Ἀλλ᾿ οὐδὲ τοῦτο,” φάναι, “ ἔχει λόγον, ἀλλ᾿, ὦ Παρμενίδη,
μάλιστα ἔμοιγε καταφαίνεται ὧδε ἔχειν· τὰ μὲν εἴδη ταῦτα ὥσπερ
παραδείγματα ἑστάναι ἐν τῇ φύσει, τὰ δὲ ἄλλα τούτοις ἐοικέναι καὶ
εἶναι ὁμοιώματα, καὶ ἡ μέθεξις αὕτη τοῖς ἄλλοις γίγνεσθαι τῶν εἰδῶν
οὐκ ἄλλη τις ἢ εἰκασθῆναι αὐτοῖς.”
“ Εἰ οὖν τι,” ἔφη, “ ἔοικεν τῷ εἴδει, οἷόν τε ἐκεῖνο τὸ εἶδος μὴ
ὅμοιον εἶναι τῷ εἰκασθέντι, καθ᾿ ὅσον αὐτῷ ἀφωμοιώθη; ἢ ἔστι τις
μηχανὴ τὸ ὅμοιον μὴ ὁμοίῳ ὅμοιον εἶναι; ”
e “ Οὐκ ἔστι.”
“ Τὸ δὲ ὅμοιον τῷ ὁμοίῳ ἆρ᾿ οὐ μεγάλη ἀνάγκη ἑνὸς τοῦ αὐτοῦ
εἴδους μετέχειν; ”
“ Ἀνάγκη.”
“ Οὗ δ᾿ ἂν τὰ ὅμοια μετέχοντα ὅμοια ᾖ, οὐκ ἐκεῖνο ἔσται αὐτὸ τὸ
εἶδος; ”
“ Παντάπασι μὲν οὖν.”
“ Οὐκ ἄρα οἷόν τέ τι τῷ εἴδει ὅμοιον εἶναι, οὐδὲ τὸ εἶδος ἄλλῳ·
εἰ δὲ μή, παρὰ τὸ εἶδος ἀεὶ ἄλλο ἀναφανήσεται εἶδος, καὶ ἂν ἐκεῖνό
133 τῳ ὅμοιον ᾖ,32 ἕτερον αὖ, καὶ οὐδέποτε παύσεται ἀεὶ καινὸν εἶδος
γιγνόμενον, ἐὰν τὸ εἶδος τῷ ἑαυτοῦ μετέχοντι ὅμοιον γίγνηται.”
30 ἐπὸν νοεῖ Proclus (Cod. B): ἐπὸν νοεῖν T: εἶπὸν νοεῖν B.

31 ἀνάγκῃ ᾗ Waddell: ἀνάγκη ᾗ B: ἀναγκη ᾗ T: ἀνάγκη εἰ Proclus.
32 ᾖ] ἢ BT.
Text and Translation: 132c–133a 91
“Of something that is, or of something that is not?”33 c

“Of something that is.”
“Is it not of some one thing which that thought thinks as appertaining
to all cases, by being some single idea?”
“Yes.”
“Then will not this thing that is thought to be one—and always the
same with respect to all cases—be a Form?”
“That seems necessary, again.”
“And what about this?” said Parmenides. “Given the necessity by which
you say the other things partake of the Forms, do you think that each
thing is composed of thoughts and all things think, or that, although
they are thoughts, they are unthinking?”34
“But that, too, is not reasonable, Parmenides,” he said. “No, what seems d
most likely to me is this: these Forms are like patterns set in nature, and
the other things resemble them and are likenesses [replicas] of them.
For the other things, this partaking of the Forms turns out to be no
different than being likened to them.”
“Then if something resembles the Form,” Parmenides said, “can that
Form not be like what has been likened to it, to the extent that the
thing has been made like it? Or, rather, is there any device by which
‘the like’ is not like its like?”
“No, there is not.”
“And must not of necessity ‘the like’ partake of one and the same e
Form, as its like?”
“It must.”
“And will that in which ‘the like’ are [made] like by participation, not
be the Form itself?”
“Certainly.”
“Therefore, nothing can be like the Form, nor the Form like anything
else.35 Otherwise, another Form will always appear alongside the Form,
and if that Form is [also] like anything, yet another [will appear]; and 133
a new Form will never cease coming to be, if the Form comes to be
like that which partakes of it.”

34 The adjective anoētos can be interpreted either as ‘unthinking’ or as ‘unthought’,
depending on its form—real, potential, active, or passive, respectively.
35 An argument for the ‘metaphysical bookend’, which cannot be yet another
book. See Hermann, “Above Being” (work in progress) for details.
“ Ἀληθέστατα λέγεις.”
“ Οὐκ ἄρα ὁμοιότητι τἆλλα τῶν εἰδῶν μεταλαμβάνει, ἀλλά τι ἄλλο
δεῖ ζητεῖν ᾧ μεταλαμβάνει.”
“ Ἔοικεν.”
“ Ὁρᾷς οὖν,” φάναι, “ ὦ Σώκρατες, ὅση ἡ ἀπορία ἐάν τις ὡς εἴδη
ὄντα αὐτὰ καθ᾿ αὑτὰ διορίζηται; ”
“ Καὶ μάλα.”
b “ Εὖ τοίνυν ἴσθι,” φάναι, “ ὅτι ὡς ἔπος εἰπεῖν οὐδέπω ἅπτει αὐτῆς
ὅση ἐστὶν ἡ ἀπορία, εἰ ἓν εἶδος ἕκαστον τῶν ὄντων ἀεί τι ἀφοριζόμενος
θήσεις.”
“ Πῶς δή; ” εἰπεῖν.
“ Πολλὰ μὲν καὶ ἄλλα,” φάναι, “ μέγιστον δὲ τόδε. εἴ τις φαίη μηδὲ
προσήκειν αὐτὰ γιγνώσκεσθαι ὄντα τοιαῦτα οἷά φαμεν δεῖν εἶναι τὰ
εἴδη, τῷ ταῦτα λέγοντι οὐκ ἂν ἔχοι τις ἐνδείξασθαι ὅτι ψεύδεται, εἰ
μὴ πολλῶν μὲν τύχοι ἔμπειρος ὢν ὁ ἀμφισβητῶν καὶ μὴ ἀφυής, ἐθέλοι
c δὲ πάνυ πολλὰ καὶ πόρρωθεν πραγματευομένου τοῦ ἐνδεικνυμένου
ἕπεσθαι, ἀλλ᾿ ἀπίθανος εἴη ὁ ἄγνωστα ἀναγκάζων αὐτὰ εἶναι.”
“ Πῇ δή, ὦ Παρμενίδη; ” φάναι τὸν Σωκράτη.
“ Ὅτι, ὦ Σώκρατες, οἶμαι ἂν καὶ σὲ καὶ ἄλλον, ὅστις αὐτήν τινα
καθ᾿ αὑτὴν ἑκάστου οὐσίαν τίθεται εἶναι, ὁμολογῆσαι ἂν πρῶτον μὲν
μηδεμίαν αὐτῶν εἶναι ἐν ἡμῖν.”
“ Πῶς γὰρ ἂν αὐτὴ καθ᾿ αὑτὴν ἔτι εἴη; ” φάναι τὸν Σωκράτη.
“ Καλῶς λέγεις,” εἰπεῖν. “ οὐκοῦν καὶ ὅσαι τῶν ἰδεῶν πρὸς ἀλλήλας
εἰσὶν αἵ εἰσιν, αὐταὶ πρὸς αὑτὰς τὴν οὐσίαν ἔχουσιν, ἀλλ᾿ οὐ πρὸς τὰ
d παρ᾿ ἡμῖν εἴτε ὁμοιώματα εἴτε ὅπῃ δή τις αὐτὰ τίθεται, ὧν ἡμεῖς
μετέχοντες εἶναι ἕκαστα ἐπονομαζόμεθα· τὰ δὲ παρ᾿ ἡμῖν ταῦτα
ὁμώνυμα ὄντα ἐκείνοις αὐτὰ αὖ πρὸς αὑτά ἐστιν ἀλλ᾿ οὐ πρὸς τὰ εἴδη,
καὶ ἑαυτῶν ἀλλ᾿ οὐκ ἐκείνων ὅσα αὖ ὀνομάζεται οὕτως.”
“ Πῶς λέγεις; ” φάναι τὸν Σωκράτη.
Text and Translation: 133a–d 93
“Very true.”
“And so, if it is not by [way of] likeness that the other things partake
of the Forms, then we must seek some other [way] by which they
partake.”36
“So it seems.”
“You see then, Socrates,” he said, “how great the difficulty is if one
singles out the Forms as things by themselves?”
“Certainly, I do.”
“Be well aware,” he said, “that you have not yet grasped, if I may say b
so, how great the difficulty is, if you postulate a single Form every time
you make a distinction between each of the ‘things that are’.”
“How so?” he asked.
“There are many other difficulties as well,” Parmenides said, “but the
greatest one is this: if someone were to say that the Forms—such as
we claim they must be—are not even fit to be known, one would be
unable to prove him wrong, unless the disputer happened to be widely
experienced and not unintelligent, and also willing to follow the proof
through numerous remote arguments. Otherwise, the person who
requires that they be unknowable would remain unconvinced.” c
“How so, Parmenides?” Socrates asked.
“Because, Socrates, I believe that you or anyone else who postulates
for each thing some [sort of] being, itself by itself, would agree, first of
all, that none of these is in us.”
“For [if it were,] how could it then still be itself by itself?” said Socrates.
“Well said,” replied Parmenides. “And so those Forms, which are what
they are in relation to one another, have their being in relation to them- d
selves, but not in relation to the likenesses that are amongst us—or
as whatever one may establish them—and by partaking of which we
come to be named after them. And these things amongst us, though
they bear the same names as the Forms, are in turn what they are in
relation to themselves, but not in relation to the Forms; and again,
they receive their names after themselves and not after the Forms.”
“What do you mean?” Socrates asked.
36 Is ‘likeness’ here suggestive of an inferior epistemological approach, as is

suggested by the Parmenidean Doxa, i.e., not truth but an approximation of
truth?
“ Οἷον,” φάναι τὸν Παρμενίδην, “ εἴ τις ἡμῶν του δεσπότης ἢ δοῦλός

e ἐστιν, οὐκ αὐτοῦ δεσπότου δή που, ὃ ἔστι δεσπότης, ἐκείνου δοῦλός
ἐστιν, οὐδὲ αὐτοῦ δούλου, ὃ ἔστι δοῦλος, δεσπότης ὁ δεσπότης, ἀλλ᾿
ἄνθρωπος ὢν ἀνθρώπου ἀμφότερα ταῦτά ἐστίν· αὐτὴ δὲ δεσποτεία
αὐτῆς δουλείας ἐστὶν ὅ ἐστι, καὶ δουλεία ὡσαύτως αὐτὴ δουλεία αὐτῆς
δεσποτείας, ἀλλ᾿ οὐ τὰ ἐν ἡμῖν πρὸς ἐκεῖνα τὴν δύναμιν ἔχει οὐδὲ
134 ἐκεῖνα πρὸς ἡμᾶς, ἀλλ᾿, ὃ λέγω, αὐτὰ αὑτῶν καὶ πρὸς αὑτὰ ἐκεῖνά τέ
ἐστι, καὶ τὰ παρ᾿ ἡμῖν ὡσαύτως πρὸς ἑαὑτά. ἢ οὐ μανθάνεις ὃ λέγω; ”
“ Πάνυ γ᾿, ” εἰπεῖν τὸν Σωκράτη, “ μανθάνω.”
“ Οὐκοῦν καὶ ἐπιστήμη,” φάναι, “ αὐτὴ μὲν ὃ ἔστιν ἐπιστήμη τῆς
ὃ ἔστιν ἀλήθεια αὐτῆς ἂν ἐκείνης εἴη ἐπιστήμη; ”
“ Πάνυ γε.”
“ Ἑκάστη δὲ αὖ τῶν ἐπιστημῶν, ἣ ἔστιν, ἑκάστου τῶν ὄντων, ὃ
ἔστιν, εἴη ἂν ἐπιστήμη· ἢ οὔ; ”
“ Ναί.”
“ Ἡ δὲ παρ᾿ ἡμῖν ἐπιστήμη οὐ τῆς παρ᾿ ἡμῖν ἂν ἀληθείας εἴη,
b καὶ αὖ ἑκάστη ἡ παρ᾿ ἡμῖν ἐπιστήμη τῶν παρ᾿ ἡμῖν ὄντων ἑκάστου
ἂν ἐπιστήμη συμβαίνοι εἶναι; ”
“ Ἀλλὰ μὴν αὐτά γε τὰ εἴδη, ὡς ὁμολογεῖς, οὔτε ἔχομεν οὔτε παρ᾿
ἡμῖν οἷόν τε εἶναι.”
“ Οὐ γὰρ οὖν.”
“ Γιγνώσκεται δέ γέ που ὑπ᾿ αὐτοῦ τοῦ εἴδους τοῦ τῆς ἐπιστήμης
αὐτὰ τὰ γένη ἃ ἔστιν ἕκαστα; ”
“ Ναί.”
“ Ὅ γε ἡμεῖς οὐκ ἔχομεν.”
“ Οὐ γάρ.”
“ Οὐκ ἄρα ὑπό γε ἡμῶν γιγνώσκεται τῶν εἰδῶν οὐδέν, ἐπειδὴ αὐτῆς
ἐπιστήμης οὐ μετέχομεν.”
“ Οὐκ ἔοικεν.”
c “ Ἄγνωστον ἄρα ἡμῖν ἐστὶ καὶ αὐτὸ τὸ καλὸν ὃ ἔστι καὶ τὸ ἀγαθὸν
καὶ πάντα ἃ δὴ ὡς ἰδέας αὐτὰς οὔσας ὑπολαμβάνομεν.”
“ Κινδυνεύει.”
Text and Translation: 133d–134c 95
“For instance,” said Parmenides, “if one of us is someone’s master or

slave, he is certainly not a slave of ‘master’ itself—of what it is to be
master—nor is the master a master of ‘slave’ itself—of what it is to be
slave. Rather, being a human being, it is of a human being that he is e
both [i.e., master or slave]. Yet ‘mastery’ itself is what it is in relation to
‘slavery’ itself; likewise, ‘slavery’ itself is slavery in relation to ‘mastery’
itself. But the things amongst us do not have their capacity in relation
to the Forms, nor do these have theirs in relation to us, but, as I say,
the Forms are what they are of themselves and in relation to them-
selves, and, in the same fashion, the things amongst us are what they 134
are in relation to themselves. Or don’t you understand what I mean?”
“Certainly,” Socrates said, “I understand.”
“So, too, knowledge itself,” he said. “Wouldn’t what it is to be knowl-
edge be knowledge of that which is truth itself?”
“Indeed.”
“And, in turn, each particular item of knowledge that is, would be
knowledge of some particular thing that is. Or not?”
“Yes.”
“But wouldn’t the knowledge amongst us be of the truth that is amongst
us? And again, wouldn’t each particular knowledge amongst us be b
knowledge of each of the particular things amongst us?”
“Necessarily.”
“But, as you agree, we neither possess the Forms themselves, nor can
they be amongst us.”
“No, they cannot.”
“And the Kinds themselves, what each of them is, are known somehow
by the Form itself of ‘knowledge’?”
“Yes.”
“Which we do not possess.”
“No, we do not.”
“Then none of the Forms is known by us, since we do not partake of
‘knowledge’ itself.”
“It seems not.”
“So ‘the beautiful’ itself, as it is, and ‘the good’, and, indeed, any of the c
things we consider to be ideals37 in themselves, are for us unknowable.”
“I am afraid so.”
37 The word ideas is here rendered as ‘ideal’ in the sense of ‘idea or archetype’
(see the definition of ‘ideal’, Oxford English Dictionary, A 1.a, and its Platonic
connotation), in the belief that it comes closest to what Plato had in mind.
“ Ὅρα δὴ ἔτι τοὔτου δεινότερον τόδε.”

“ Τὸ ποῖον; ”
“ Φαίης ἄν που,38 εἴπερ ἔστιν αὐτό τι γένος ἐπιστήμης, πολὺ αὐτὸ
ἀκριβέστερον εἶναι ἢ τὴν παρ᾿ ἡμῖν ἐπιστήμην, καὶ κάλλος καὶ τἆλλα
πάντα οὕτως.”
“ Ναί.”
“ Οὐκοῦν εἴπερ τι ἄλλο αὐτῆς ἐπιστήμης μετέχει, οὐκ ἄν τινα
μᾶλλον ἢ θεὸν φαίης ἔχειν τὴν ἀκριβεστάτην ἐπιστήμην; ”
d “ Ἆρ᾿ οὖν οἷός τε αὖ ἔσται ὁ θεὸς τὰ παρ᾿ ἡμῖν γιγνώσκειν αὐτὴν
ἐπιστήμην ἔχων; ”
“ Τί γὰρ οὔ; ”
“ Ὅτι,” ἔφη ὁ Παρμενίδης, “ ὡμολόγηται ἡμῖν, ὦ Σώκρατες, μήτ᾿
ἐκεῖνα τὰ εἴδη πρὸς τὰ παρ᾿ ἡμῖν τὴν δύναμιν ἔχειν ἣν ἔχει, μήτε τὰ
παρ᾿ ἡμῖν πρὸς ἐκεῖνα, ἀλλ᾿ αὐτὰ πρὸς αὑτὰ ἑκάτερα.”
“ Ὡμολόγηται γάρ.”
“ Οὐκοῦν εἰ παρὰ τῷ θεῷ αὕτη ἐστὶν ἡ ἀκριβεστάτη δεσποτεία
καὶ αὕτη ἡ ἀκριβεστάτη ἐπιστήμη, οὔτ᾿ ἂν ἡ δεσποτεία ἡ ἐκείνων
e ἡμῶν ποτὲ ἂν δεσπόσειεν, οὔτ᾿ ἂν ἡ ἐπιστήμη ἡμᾶς γνοίη οὐδέ τι ἄλλο
τῶν παρ᾿ ἡμῖν, ἀλλὰ ὁμοίως ἡμεῖς τ᾿ ἐκείνων οὐκ ἄρχομεν τῇ παρ᾿
ἡμῖν ἀρχῇ οὐδὲ γιγνώσκομεν τοῦ θείου οὐδὲν τῇ ἡμετέρᾳ ἐπιστήμῃ,
ἐκεῖνοί τε αὖ κατὰ τὸν αὐτὸν λόγον οὔτε δεσπόται ἡμῶν εἰσὶν οὔτε
γιγνώσκουσι τὰ ἀνθρώπεια πράγματα θεοὶ ὄντες.”
“ Ἀλλὰ μὴ λίαν,” ἔφη, “ θαυμαστὸς ὁ λόγος ᾖ,39 εἴ τις τὸν θεὸν
ἀποστερήσει40 τοῦ εἰδέναι.”
“ Ταῦτα μέντοι, ὦ Σώκρατες,” ἔφη ὁ Παρμενίδης,
135 “ καὶ ἔτι ἄλλα πρὸς τούτοις πάνυ πολλὰ ἀναγκαῖον ἔχειν τὰ εἴδη, εἰ
εἰσὶν αὗται αἱ ἰδέαι τῶν ὄντων καὶ ὁριεῖταί τις αὐτό τι ἕκαστον εἶδος·
ὥστε ἀπορεῖν τε τὸν ἀκούοντα καὶ ἀμφισβητεῖν ὡς οὔτε ἔστι ταῦτα,
εἴ τε ὅτι μάλιστα εἴη, πολλὴ ἀνάγκη αὐτὰ εἶναι τῇ ἀνθρωπίνῃ φύσει
ἄγνωστα· καὶ ταῦτα λέγοντα δοκεῖν τε τὶ λέγειν, καί, ὃ ἄρτι ἐλέγομεν,
θαυμαστῶς ὡς δυσανάπειστον εἶναι. καὶ ἀνδρὸς πάνυ μὲν εὐφυοῦς τοῦ
b δυνησομένου μαθεῖν ὡς ἔστι γένος τι ἑκάστου καὶ οὐσία αὐτὴ καθ᾿
αὑτήν, ἔτι δὲ θαυμαστοτέρου τοῦ εὑρήσοντος καὶ ἄλλον δυνησομένου
διδάξαι ταῦτα πάντα ἱκανῶς διευκρινησάμενον.”
38 που T: ἢ οὒ B.
39 ᾖ add. Heindorf.
40 ἀποστερήσει Stephanus: ἀποστερήσειε BT.
Text and Translation: 134c–135b 97
“Now consider something even more dreadful than this.”

“What is it?”
“You would admit, somehow, that if in fact there is such a Kind as
‘knowledge’ itself, it is much more exact than the knowledge amongst
us. And likewise with ‘beauty’ and all the rest.”
“Yes.”
“So, if anything else partakes of knowledge itself, wouldn’t you admit
that God more than anyone else possesses the most exact knowledge?”
“Necessarily.”
“Then again, will God, who possesses ‘knowledge’ itself, be able to d
know the things that are amongst us?”
“Yes, why not?”
“Because,” Parmenides said, “we have agreed, Socrates, that neither
do those Forms have their capacity in relation to things amongst us,
nor do the things amongst us have theirs in relation to the Forms, but
each of the two Kinds [has it] in relation to itself.”
“Yes, we did agree.”
“Well, if this most exact mastery itself and this most exact knowledge
itself belong to the divine, then their [i.e., the gods’] mastery could
never master us, nor their knowledge know us nor anything else that is e
amongst us. Just as we do not rule over them by the rule that is amongst
us, nor know anything of the divine by means of our knowledge, so
they, in turn, by the same reasoning, are neither our masters, nor, being
gods, do they know human affairs.”
“But surely,” he said, “if God is to be deprived of knowing, our argu-
ment would be too strange.”
“And yet, Socrates,” said Parmenides, “these difficulties are necessarily
involved in the Forms, and still many more besides them—if these are 135
the concepts for the ‘things that are’ and someone delimits each Form
as ‘something by itself’. Thus, whoever hears about them is confounded
and disputes whether they exist, or that, even if they do indeed exist,
they must necessarily be unknowable to human nature. In saying this,
he seems to be saying something [reasonable], and thus, as we have
just said, he will be extremely difficult to persuade otherwise. Only
an ingenious man will be able to understand that for each thing there b
is some Kind, a being itself by itself, but only someone even more
remarkable will be able to discover it and teach it to another who has
[already] thoroughly examined all these difficulties.”
“ Συγχωρῶ σοι,” ἔφη, “ ὦ Παρμενίδη,” ὁ Σωκράτης· “ πάνυ γάρ μοι

κατὰ νοῦν λέγεις.”
“ Ἀλλὰ μέντοι,” εἶπεν ὁ Παρμενίδης, “ εἴ γέ τις δή, ὦ Σώκρατες, αὖ
μὴ ἐάσει41 εἴδη τῶν ὄντων εἶναι, εἰς πάντα τὰ νῦν δὴ καὶ ἄλλα τοιαῦτα
ἀποβλέψας, μηδέ τι42 ὁριεῖται εἶδος ἑνὸς ἑκάστου, οὐδὲ ὅπῃ τρέψει τὴν
c διάνοιαν ἕξει, μὴ ἐῶν ἰδέαν τῶν ὄντων ἑκάστου τὴν αὐτὴν ἀεὶ εἶναι,
καὶ οὕτως τὴν τοῦ διαλέγεσθαι δύναμιν παντάπασι διαφθερεῖ. τοῦ
τοιούτου μὲν οὖν μοι δοκεῖς καὶ μᾶλλον ᾐσθῆσθαι.”
“ Ἀληθῆ λέγεις,” φάναι.
“ Τί οὖν ποιήσεις φιλοσοφίας πέρι; πῇ τρέψῃ ἀγνοουμένων
τούτων; ”
“ Οὐ πάνυ μοι δοκῶ καθορᾶν ἔν γε τῷ παρόντι.”
“ Πρῲ γάρ,” εἰπεῖν, “ πρὶν γυμνασθῆναι, ὦ Σώκρατες, ὁρίζεσθαι
ἐπιχειρεῖς καλόν τέ τι καὶ δίκαιον καὶ ἀγαθὸν καὶ ἓν ἕκαστον τῶν
εἰδῶν.
d ἐνενόησα γὰρ καὶ πρῴην σου ἀκούων διαλεγομένου ἐνθάδε Ἀριστοτέλει
τῷδε. καλὴ μὲν οὖν καὶ θεία, εὖ ἴσθι, ἡ ὁρμὴ ἣν ὁρμᾷς ἐπὶ τοὺς λόγους·
ἕλκυσον δὲ σαυτὸν καὶ γύμνασαι μᾶλλον διὰ τῆς δοκούσης ἀχρήστου
εἶναι καὶ καλουμένης ὑπὸ τῶν πολλῶν ἀδολεσχίας, ἕως ἔτι νέος εἶ· εἰ
δὲ μή, σὲ διαφεύξεται ἡ ἀλήθεια.”
“ Τίς οὖν ὁ τρόπος,” φάναι, “ ὦ Παρμενίδη, τῆς γυμνασίας; ”
e “ Οὗτος,” εἶπεῖν, “ ὅνπερ ἤκουσας Ζήνωνος. πλὴν τοῦτό γέ σου καὶ
πρὸς τοῦτον ἠγάσθην εἰπόντος ὅτι οὐκ εἴας ἐν τοῖς ὁρωμένοις οὐδὲ
περὶ ταῦτα τὴν πλάνην ἐπισκοπεῖν, ἀλλὰ περὶ ἐκεῖνα ἃ μάλιστά τις
ἂν λόγῳ λάβοι καὶ εἴδη ἂν ἡγήσαιτο εἶναι.”
“ Δοκεῖ γάρ μοι,” ἔφη, “ ταύτῃ γε οὐδὲν χαλεπὸν εἶναι καὶ ὅμοια
καὶ ἀνόμοια καὶ ἄλλο ὁτιοῦν τὰ ὄντα πάσχοντα ἀποφαίνειν.”
“ Καὶ καλῶς γ᾿, ” ἔφη. “ χρὴ δὲ καὶ τόδε ἔτι πρὸς τούτῳ ποιεῖν,
136 μὴ μόνον εἰ ἔστιν ἕκαστον ὑποτιθέμενον σκοπεῖν τὰ ξυμβαίνοντα ἐκ
τῆς ὑποθέσεως, ἀλλὰ καὶ εἰ μὴ ἔστι τὸ αὐτὸ τοῦτο ὑποτίθεσθαι, εἰ
βούλει μᾶλλον γυμνασθῆναι.”
“ Πῶς λέγεις; ” φάναι.
41 ἐάσῃ BT.
42 μὴ δέτι B: μηδ᾽ ὅτι T.
Text and Translation: 135b–136a 99
“I agree with you, Parmenides,” Socrates said. “What you say reflects
very much what I think.”
“But, on the other hand, Socrates,” said Parmenides, “if instead some-
one, fixing his attention on all the present issues and others of the same
kind, will not concede that there are Forms of ‘the things that are’,
and will not define a Form for each one [of them], he will not have
anything to turn his thought to, since he won’t allow that for each of c
‘the things that are’, there is a concept that is always the same. And by
doing this he will completely destroy the power of discourse. But you
seem to me to have perceived that quite well.”
“What you say is true,” Socrates said.
“What, then, will you do about philosophy? Where will you turn, if
these things remain unknown to you?”
“At the moment, I don’t seem to see at all.”
“Socrates, that is because you are trying to define prematurely what is
‘beautiful’, and ‘just’ and ‘good’, and each one of the Forms,” he said,
“before you are properly trained. I realized that the other day too, when
I heard you conversing with Aristoteles here. Be assured, the impulse d
you bring to discourse is noble and divine. But train yourself while you
are still young; drag yourself through what is commonly considered
useless, which most call idle talk. Otherwise, the truth will escape you.”
“What manner of training is that, Parmenides?” he said.
“The one you heard Zeno practice,” he replied. “Except for this: you
told Zeno something that delighted me very much, that you would not e
allow inquiry to wander around the visible things, nor be about them,
but be about those things one could apprehend best by reasoning, and
could regard as Forms.”
“It seems to me,” Socrates said, “that in this way, it is not at all difficult
to show that [visible] things are both like and unlike, and affected in
any other way whatsoever.”
“You are quite right,” Parmenides answered, “but in addition to that,
you must also do this: examine the consequences of each hypothesis— 136
that is, not only hypothesize ‘if a thing is’ but also ‘if that same thing
is not’—if you want to be trained more thoroughly.”
“What do you mean?” he said.
“ Οἷον,” ἔφη, “ εἰ βούλει, περὶ ταύτης τῆς ὑποθέσεως, ἣν Ζήνων

ὑπέθετο, εἰ πολλά ἐστι, τί χρὴ ξυμβαίνειν καὶ αὐτοῖς τοῖς πολλοῖς
πρὸς αὑτὰ καὶ πρὸς τὸ ἓν καὶ τῷ ἑνὶ πρός τε αὑτὸ καὶ πρὸς τὰ πολλά·
καὶ αὖ εἰ μή ἐστι πολλά, πάλιν σκοπεῖν, τί ξυμβήσεται καὶ τῷ ἑνὶ
b καὶ τοῖς πολλοῖς καὶ πρὸς αὑτὰ καὶ πρὸς ἄλληλα· καὶ αὖθις αὖ ἐὰν
ὑποθῇ, εἰ ἔστιν ὁμοιότης ἢ εἰ μὴ ἔστι, τί ἐφ᾿ ἑκατέρας τῆς ὑποθέσεως
ξυμβήσεται καὶ αὐτοῖς τοῖς ὑποτεθεῖσι καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις καὶ πρὸς
αὑτὰ καὶ πρὸς ἄλληλα.
καὶ περὶ ἀνομοίου ὁ αὐτὸς λόγος καὶ περὶ κινήσεως καὶ στάσεως
καὶ περὶ γενέσεως καὶ φθορᾶς καὶ περὶ αὐτοῦ τοῦ εἶναι καὶ τοῦ μὴ
εἶναι· καὶ ἑνὶ λόγῳ, περὶ ὅτου ἂν ἀεὶ ὑποθῇ ὡς ὄντος καὶ ὡς οὐκ ὄντος
c καὶ ὁτιοῦν ἄλλο πάθος πάσχοντος, δεῖ σκοπεῖν τὰ ξυμβαίνοντα πρὸς
αὑτὸ καὶ πρὸς ἓν ἕκαστον τῶν ἄλλων, ὅ τι ἂν προέλῃ, καὶ πρὸς πλείω
Text and Translation: 136a–c 101
“Take, if you like,” Parmenides said, “Zeno’s hypothesis, according

to which ‘if it is many’,43 what consequences ensue both for the many
in relation to themselves, and in relation to the one, and for the one
in relation to itself, and in relation to the many. And conversely, ‘if it
is not many’, you must again examine what consequences follow for
both the one and the many, in relation to themselves and in relation
to each other. And again, should you suppose, ‘if it is like’44 or ‘if it is
not [like]’, what will the consequences be for either of our hypotheses:
both for what we have hypothesized, and for the others, both in rela-
tion to themselves and in relation to each other.
The same approach45 appertains to ‘unlike’ and to ‘motion’ and to ‘rest’ b
and to ‘generation and corruption’ and even to ‘being’ itself and ‘not
being’. In short, for whatever you hypothesize as being or not being,46
and as subjected to any other qualification,47 you must examine the
consequences [that will follow] in relation to itself and in relation to
each and every one of the others—whichever you may choose—and
in relation to more than one, and in relation to all in the same way. c
In turn, you must examine the others, both in relation to themselves,
43 We have here the same phrase εἰ πολλά ἐστι as in 128d. It is often translated
as “if there are many” but could also be rendered as “if (things) are many,”
or “if (something) is many,” or, what seems most likely in this context, “if
(the object of inquiry) is many.” As appealing as “if there are many” might
seem to us today, it creates an inconsistency with other passages (e.g., 128b,
128d) where we had to translate the phrase as “if it is many”—the “it”
referring back to Socrates’ claim (128a) that Parmenides says with “the all
is one” in his poems. Thus, we are assuming that here (136a) Parmenides
is referring to the same Zenonian hypothesis introduced earlier. The “it,”
therefore, can stand for “the all,” as well as for the “one,” if the Zenonian
proposition is meant to debunk the notion of “it being many,” as part of
an attempt to defend Parmenides. Most likely, the “it” in “if it is many”
refers to “the one.” It is also the “one” that is positioned as counterpart of
“the many” throughout the exercise mentioned above. See also Gill, Plato:
Parmenides, 139n21.
44 To be consistent, the same rendering must be followed here as well: εἰ ἔστιν
ὁμοιότης = “if it is like,” instead of “if likeness is.”
45 The use of logos here seems akin to its use in Parmenides’ Poem (e.g., B8.50),
namely, as an ordered and systematic ‘account’, a ‘way’, ‘procedure’, or ‘method’.
46 Cf. Parmenides B8.15–16.
47 For example, the sēmata of Parmenides B8.2–6.
καὶ πρὸς ξύμπαντα ὡσαύτως· καὶ τἆλλα αὖ πρὸς αὑτά τε καὶ πρὸς
ἄλλο ὅ τι ἂν προαιρῇ ἀεί, ἐάντε ὡς ὂν ὑποθῇ ὃ ὑπετίθεσο, ἐάντε ὡς
μὴ ὄν, εἰ μέλλεις τελέως γυμνασάμενος κυρίως διόψεσθαι τὸ ἀληθές.”
“ Ἀμήχανόν,” ἔφη, “ λέγεις, ὦ Παρμενίδη, πραγματείαν, καὶ οὐ
σφόδρα μανθάνω. ἀλλά μοι τί οὐ διῆλθες αὐτὸς ὑποθέμενός τι, ἵνα
μᾶλλον καταμάθω; ”
d “ Πολὺ ἔργον,” φάναι, “ ὦ Σώκρατες, προστάττεις ὡς τηλικῷδε.”
“ Ἀλλὰ σύ,” εἰπεῖν τὸν Σωκράτη, “ Ζήνων, τί οὐ διῆλθες ἡμῖν; ”
Καὶ τὸν Ζήνωνα ἔφη γελάσαντα φάναι· “ αὐτοῦ, ὦ Σώκρατες,
δεώμεθα Παρμενίδου. μὴ γὰρ οὐ φαῦλον ᾖ ὃ λέγει. ἢ οὐχ ὁρᾷς
ὅσον ἔργον προστάττεις; εἰ μὲν οὖν πλείους ἦμεν, οὐκ ἂν ἄξιον ἦν
δεῖσθαι· ἀπρεπῆ γὰρ τὰ τοιαῦτα πολλῶν ἐναντίον λέγειν ἄλλως τε
e καὶ τηλικούτῳ· ἀγνοοῦσιν γὰρ οἱ πολλοὶ ὅτι ἄνευ ταύτης τῆς διὰ
πάντων διεξόδου τε καὶ πλάνης ἀδύνατον ἐντυχόντα τῷ ἀληθεῖ νοῦν
σχεῖν. ἐγὼ μὲν οὖν, ὦ Παρμενίδη, Σωκράτει συνδέομαι, ἵνα καὶ αὐτὸς
διακούσω διὰ χρόνου.”
Ταῦτα δὴ εἰπόντος τοῦ Ζήνωνος, ἔφη ὁ Ἀντιφῶν φάναι τὸν
Πυθόδωρον, αὐτόν τε δεῖσθαι τοῦ Παρμενίδου καὶ τὸν Ἀριστοτέλη
καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους, ἐνδείξασθαι ὃ λέγοι καὶ μὴ ἄλλως ποιεῖν. τὸν οὖν
137 Παρμενίδην· “ ανάγκη,” φάναι, “ πείθεσθαι. καί τοι δοκῶ μοι τὸ τοῦ
Ἰβυκείου ἵππου πεπονθέναι, ᾧ ἐκεῖνος ἀθλητῇ ὄντι καὶ πρεσβυτέρῳ,
ὑφ᾿ ἅρματι μέλλοντι ἀγωνιεῖσθαι καὶ δι᾿ ἐμπειρίαν τρέμοντι τὸ
μέλλον, ἑαυτὸν ἀπεικάζων ἄκων ἔφη καὶ αὐτὸς οὕτω πρεσβύτης
ὢν εἰς τὸν ἔρωτα ἀναγκάζεσθαι ἰέναι· κἀγώ μοι δοκῶ μεμνημένος
μάλα φοβεῖσθαι πῶς χρὴ τηλικόνδε ὄντα διανεῦσαι τοιοῦτόν τε καὶ
τοσοῦτον πέλαγος48 λόγων· ὅμως δὲ δεῖ γὰρ χαρίζεσθαι, ἐπειδὴ καί,
48 πέλαγος Stephanus (fr. Ficinus), and Proclus seems to have had this reading:
πλῆθος BT.
and to anything else you may choose, whether what you have hypoth-
esized you assume as being or not being. All this you must do, if, after
completing your training, you are to discern the truth with authority.”
“You speak of an impossible undertaking, Parmenides,” Socrates said,
“and I don’t quite understand it. Why don’t you go through it for me by
hypothesizing something yourself, so that I may comprehend it better?”
“That is a big task to assign to a man of my age, Socrates,” he said.
“Well then, what about you, Zeno?” said Socrates. “Why don’t you go d
through it for us?”
And Pythodorus said that Zeno replied, laughing, “Let us ask this
of Parmenides himself, Socrates. For this is not a light matter that he
speaks of. Or don’t you see how great the task is that you are assigning?
Indeed, if there were more of us present, it would not be proper to ask
him—it is not suitable, especially at his age, to speak of such matters
when many are present. For most do not know that unless we go through e
a comprehensive and circuitous inquiry49 we cannot encounter [what
is] true and achieve insight. And so, Parmenides, I join Socrates in this
request, so that I too may listen to your teaching, after all this time.”
Antiphon said that Pythodorus told him that when Zeno had said
this, he too, along with Aristoteles and the others, asked Parmenides
to demonstrate what he meant and not to refuse. Then Parmenides
said: “I must comply. But I feel like I am suffering what Ibycus’ horse
suffered, that old fighter, who, at the start of a chariot race, trembled
from past experience at what was to come. Comparing himself to the 137
horse, the poet claims that he too, unwillingly, and being so aged, is
being compelled to enter the contests of Love. Thinking back, I too,
seem to feel very afraid of how to traverse at my age such a dangerous
and vast sea of arguments. All the same, I must oblige you, especially
since, as Zeno says, we are amongst ourselves.”
49 Cf. Parmenides B5: the circuitous journey of his Goddess’ approach, as

opposed to the aimless wandering of stupefied mortals in B6.
b ὃ50 Ζήνων λέγει, αὐτοί ἐσμεν. πόθεν οὖν δὴ ἀρξόμεθα καὶ τί πρῶτον
ὑποθησόμεθα; ἢ βούλεσθε, ἐπειδήπερ δοκεῖ πραγματειώδη παιδιὰν
παίζειν, ἀπ᾿ ἐμαυτοῦ ἄρξωμαι καὶ τῆς ἐμαυτοῦ ὑποθέσεως, περὶ τοῦ
ἑνὸς αὐτοῦ ὑποθέμενος, εἴτε ἕν ἐστιν εἴτε μὴ ἕν, τί χρὴ ξυμβαίνειν; ”
“ Πάνυ μὲν οὖν,” φάναι τὸν Ζήνωνα.
“ Τίς οὖν; ” εἰπεῖν, “ μοὶ ἀποκρινεῖται; ἢ ὁ νεώτατος; ἥκιστα γὰρ
ἂν πολυπραγμονοῖ, καὶ ἃ οἴεται μάλιστ᾿ ἂν ἀποκρίνοιτο· καὶ ἅμα ἐμοὶ
ἀνάπαυλα ἂν εἴη ἡ ἐκείνου ἀπόκρισις.”
c “ Ἕτοιμός σοι, ὦ Παρμενίδη,” φάναι, “ τοῦτο,” τὸν Ἀριστοτέλη·
“ ἐμὲ γὰρ λέγεις τὸν νεώτατον λέγων· ἀλλ᾿ ἐρώτα ὡς ἀποκρινουμένου.”
50 ὃ Bekker: ὁ BT.
Text and Translation: 137b–c 105
“Well, then, where shall we start? What shall we hypothesize first? b

Since we have determined to play this laborious game, I shall begin
with myself and my own hypothesis, hypothesizing about ‘the one’
itself, whether it is one or not one, and the consequences that must
follow [in each case].51”
“By all means,” said Zeno.
“Then who will answer me?” he asked. “The youngest, perhaps? For
he would waste the least time, and would be the most likely to reply as
he thinks; meanwhile, his answer would allow me to catch my breath.”
“I’m ready to do that for you, Parmenides,” Aristoteles said. “For you c
speak of me when you speak of the youngest. Ask, then, and I shall
answer.”
51 Cf. 128b, 128d, and 137c. See also note 9. There have been suggestions to
emend the text (εἴτε ἕν ἐστιν εἴτε μὴ ἕν) to “if one is, or if one is not” in
order to avoid conflicts with the all-too-common reading that the Second
Part delves only into the question of the one’s existence or nonexistence. Yet
such a reading ignores the possibility that the Second Part is exploring the
differences between a oneness itself-by-itself, versus a relational one. However,
that is precisely the kind of examination Socrates demands in 129d–130a.
Particularly, Socrates is most interested by the interweaving of Intelligibles
(Forms), not some merely existential proving (130a, cf. also 135e). At issue
are the consequences that follow from “the one’s” availability or unavailability
to partake and be partaken in, or generally (with a view to the Sophist), to
be intertwined with. However, the attempt to emend 137b4–5, and thus to
cast an existential spin on all the main hypotheses of the Second Part, can-
not work, as it severs the connection between crucial passages, and results
in inconsistencies. The sense preserved in 137b4–5 is in some way related to
that expressed in 128b, ἓν . . . εἶναι τὸ πᾶν, which states that “the all is one”
and not “the one exists,” much less “the one exists as all.” The only difference
here is that this time around, the subject is not specified as “all” but, as the
text states, “the one itself” (ἑνὸς αὐτοῦ).
“ Εἶεν δή,” φάναι·

“ εἰ ἕν ἐστιν, ἄλλο τι οὐκ ἂν εἴη πολλὰ τὸ ἕν; ”
“ πῶς γὰρ ἄν; ”
“ οὔτε ἄρα μέρος αὐτοῦ οὔτε ὅλον αὐτὸ δεῖ εἶναι.”
“ τί δή; ”
“ τὸ μέρος που ὅλου μέρος52 ἐστίν.”
“ Ναί.”
“ Τί δὲ τὸ ὅλον; οὐχὶ οὗ ἂν μέρος μηδὲν ἀπῇ, ὅλον ἂν εἴη; ”
“ πάνυ γε.”
“ ἀμφοτέρως ἄρα τὸ ἓν ἐκ μερῶν ἂν εἴη, ὅλον τε ὂν καὶ μέρη ἔχον.”
d “ ἀνάγκη.”
“ ἀμφοτέρως ἂν ἄρα οὕτως τὸ ἓν πολλὰ εἴη, ἀλλ᾿ οὐχ ἕν.”
“ ἀληθῆ.”
“ δεῖ δέ γε μὴ πολλὰ ἀλλ᾿ ἓν αὐτὸ εἶναι.”
“ δεῖ.”
“ οὔτ᾿ ἄρα ὅλον ἔσται οὔτε μέρη ἕξει, εἰ ἓν ἔσται τὸ ἕν.”
“ οὐ γάρ.”
“ Οὐκοῦν εἰ μηδὲν ἔχει μέρος, οὔτ᾿ ἂν ἀρχὴν οὔτε τελευτὴν οὔτε
μέσον ἔχοι· μέρη γὰρ ἂν ἤδη αὐτοῦ τὰ τοιαῦτα εἴη.”
52 ὅλου μέρους B: μέρος ὅλου T.

Text and Translation: 137c–d 107
FIRST ARGUMENT
“Well then,” said Parmenides, “‘if it is one’,53 would not the one be
something other than the many?”
— “How could it be [many]?”
PARTS/WHOLE
“Then, there must not be a part of it, nor can it be a whole.”
— “Why?”
“For a part is presumably a part of a whole.”
— “Yes.”
“But what is the whole? Wouldn’t that from which no part is missing
be a whole?”
— “Certainly.”
“In both cases, then, the one would consist of parts, since it would be
whole and would have parts.”
— “Necessarily.”
“In that way, in both cases the one would be many, rather than one.”
— “True.” d
“Yet it must not be many, but one.”
— “It must.”
“Thus, if the one is to be one, it will neither be a whole nor have parts.”
— “No, it won’t.”
LIMITED/UNLIMITED
“Then, if it has no part, it would neither have a beginning, nor an end,
nor a middle, for these kind of things would be parts of it.”
53 “One” (ἕν) can also be translated as Oneness, or Unity. For “if it is one,” as
above, compare also Gill, Plato: Parmenides, 141, and also Kahn, chapter
on the Parmenides (a work in progress on Plato’s later dialogues). However, εἰ
ἕν ἐστιν here has also been translated as “if there is one,” “if the one exists,”
and “if one is” (compare with 142b), and some scholars consider the wording
sufficiently ambiguous to allow both versions. Yet if we compare other passages
that mention hen as object of inquiry (for example 128b, but especially 128d
and 137b), it becomes clear that the hypothesis in Argument I should be taken
not in an existential sense but in a predicative one, in contrast to Argument
II and its hypothesis “if one is” (ἓν εἰ ἔστιν), which, as the Argument shows,
focuses on results of the existential intertwining between One and Being.
See also Gill, Plato: Parmenides, 65ff., for a lengthy discussion of the issue.
Compare also note 9.
“ ὀρθῶς.”
“ καὶ μὴν τελευτή γε καὶ ἀρχὴ πέρας ἑκάστου.”
“ πῶς δ᾿ οὔ; ”
“ ἄπειρον ἄρα τὸ ἕν, εἰ μήτε ἀρχὴν μήτε τελευτὴν ἔχει.”
“ ἄπειρον.”
e “ καὶ ἄνευ σχήματος ἄρα· οὔτε γὰρ54 ἂν στρογγύλου οὔτε εὐθέος
μετέχει.55”
“ πῶς; ”
“ στρογγύλον γέ πού ἐστι τοῦτο, οὗ ἂν τὰ ἔσχατα πανταχῇ ἀπὸ τοῦ
μέσου ἴσον ἀπέχῃ.”
“ ναί.”
“ καὶ μὴν εὐθύ γε, οὗ ἂν τὸ μέσον ἀμφοῖν τοῖν ἐσχάτοιν ἐπίπροσθεν ᾖ.”
“ οὕτως.”
“ οὐκοῦν μέρη ἂν ἔχοι τὸ ἓν καὶ πολλ᾿ ἂν εἴη, εἴτε εὐθέος σχήματος
εἴτε περιφεροῦς μετέχοι.”
“ πάνυ μὲν οὖν.”
138 “ οὔτε ἄρα εὐθὺ οὔτε περιφερές ἐστιν, ἐπείπερ οὐδὲ μέρη ἔχει.”
“ Καὶ μὴν τοιοῦτόν γε ὂν οὐδαμοῦ ἂν εἴη· οὔτε γὰρ ἐν ἄλλῳ οὔτε
ἐν ἑαυτῷ εἴη.” “ πῶς δή; ”
“ Ἐν ἄλλῳ μὲν ὂν κύκλῳ που ἂν περιέχοιτο ὑπ᾿ ἐκείνου ἐν ᾧ ἐνείη,56
καὶ πολλαχοῦ ἂν αὐτοῦ ἅπτοιτο πολλοῖς· τοῦ δὲ ἑνός τε καὶ ἀμεροῦς
καὶ κύκλου μὴ μετέχοντος ἀδύνατον πολλαχῇ κύκλῳ ἅπτεσθαι.”
“ Ἀδύνατον.” “ Ἀλλὰ μὴν αὐτό γε ἐν ἑαυτῷ ὂν κἂν ἑαυτῷ57 εἴη περιέχον
b οὐκ ἄλλο ἢ αὑτό,58 εἴπερ καὶ ἐν ἑαυτῷ εἴη· ἔν τῳ γάρ τι εἶναι μὴ
περιέχοντι ἀδύνατον.”
“ ἀδύνατον γάρ.”
54 γὰρ BT: γὰρ ἂν vulg.

55 μετέχει Proclus: μετέχοι BT.
56 ἐνείη Heindorf: ἂν ἓν εἴη B: ἂ εἲη T.
57 ἑαυτῷ B: ἑαυτὸ T, Proclus.
58 αὑτὸ Diels: αὐτὸ BT, Proclus.
— “Quite right.”
“Furthermore, ‘end’ and ‘beginning’ are the limit of each thing.”
— “How could they not be?”
“Therefore, if the one has neither beginning nor end, it is limitless.”
— “Yes.”
NO SHAPE
“And consequently, it is without shape; for it partakes in neither round
nor straight.”
— “How so?” e
“For the round is presumably that whose extremities are everywhere
equidistant from its center.”
— “Yes.”
“And straight is that of which the middle stands in between both
extremities.”
— “So it is.”
“So the one would have parts and be many, if it were to partake in
either a straight or a round shape.”
“Therefore, it is neither straight nor round, since it has no parts either.” 138
— “Correct.”
NEITHER IN ITSELF, NOR IN ANOTHER—NOWHERE

“Furthermore, being of such a kind, it would be nowhere, because it
would be neither in another nor in itself.”
— “How so?”
“If it were in another, it would presumably be surrounded all around
by that in which it would be contained, and it would be in contact
with this thing in many places with many parts. But since it is one
and without parts, and since it does not partake of all-aroundness, it
cannot possibly be in contact all around in many different places.”
— “It could not.”
“Yet, conversely, if it were in itself, what contains it would be no differ-
ent than itself, if indeed it were in itself, for it is impossible for a thing b
to be in something that does not contain it.”
— “Impossible indeed.”
“So the container itself would be one thing, and the contained another,
because the same thing as a whole will not be able both to undergo
“ οὐκοῦν ἕτερον μὲν ἄν τι εἴη αὐτὸ τὸ περιέχον, ἕτερον δὲ τὸ

περιεχόμενον· οὐ γὰρ ὅλον γε ἄμφω ταὐτὸν ἅμα πείσεται καὶ ποιήσει·
καὶ οὕτω τὸ ἓν οὐκ ἂν εἴη ἔτι ἓν ἀλλὰ δύο.”
“ οὐ γὰρ οὖν.”
“ οὐκ ἄρα ἐστίν που τὸ ἕν, μήτε ἐν ἑαυτῷ μήτε ἐν ἄλλῳ ἐνόν.”
“ οὐκ ἔστιν.”
“ Ὅρα δή, οὕτως ἔχον εἰ οἷόν τέ ἐστιν ἑστάναι ἢ κινεῖσθαι.”
“ τί δὴ γὰρ οὔ; ”
c “ ὅτι κινούμενόν γε59 ἢ φέροιτο ἢ ἀλλοιοῖτο ἄν· αὗται γὰρ μόναι
κινήσεις.”
“ ναί.”
“ ἀλλοιούμενον δὲ τὸ ἓν ἑαυτοῦ ἀδύνατόν που ἓν ἔτι εἶναι.”
“ ἀδύνατον.”
“ οὐκ ἄρα κατ᾿ ἀλλοίωσίν γε κινεῖται.”
“ οὐ φαίνεται.”
“ ἀλλ᾿ ἆρα τῷ φέρεσθαι; ”
“ ἴσως.”
“ καὶ μὴν εἰ φέροιτο τὸ ἕν, ἤτοι ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ ἂν περιφέροιτο κύκλῳ ἢ
μεταλλάττοι χώραν ἑτέραν ἐξ ἑτέρας.”
“ ἀνάγκη.”
“ οὐκοῦν κύκλῳ μὲν περιφερόμενον ἐπὶ μέσου βεβηκέναι ἀνάγκη, καὶ
d τὰ περὶ τὸ μέσον φερόμενα ἄλλα μέρη ἔχειν ἑαυτοῦ. ᾧ δὲ μήτε μέσου
μήτε μερῶν προσήκει, τίς μηχανὴ τοῦτο κύκλῳ ποτ᾿ ἐπὶ τοῦ μέσου
ἐνεχθῆναι; ”
“ οὐδεμία.”
“ ἀλλὰ δὴ χώραν ἀμεῖβον ἄλλοτ᾿ ἄλλοθι γίγνεται καὶ οὕτω κινεῖται; ”
“ εἴπερ γε δή.”
“ οὐκοῦν εἶναι μέν που ἔν τινι αὐτῷ60 ἀδύνατον ἐφάνη; ”
“ ναί.”
“ ἆρ᾿ οὖν γίγνεσθαι ἔτι ἀδυνατώτερον; ”
59 γε b, Proclus al.: τε BT, Stobaeus.

60 αὐτῷ BT: αὐτὸ vulg.
Text and Translation: 138b–d 111
and to act at the same time. And so the one would no longer be one
but two.”
— “It would not.”
“Therefore the one is not anywhere, neither in itself nor in another.”
— “It is not.”
MOTION/REST
“If this is the case, consider then whether it can be at rest or in motion.”61
— “Yes, why not?”
“Because if it were in motion it would either change place or alter its
character, since these are the only motions.”62
— “Yes.”
“But it is impossible for the one to alter itself and still be somehow one.” c
— “Impossible.”
“So it does not move by altering its character.”
— “Apparently not.”
“But by changing place?”
— “Perhaps.”
“And yet if the one moved spatially, then it would either revolve around
itself or change from one place to another.”
“Well, if it revolves around itself, it must be poised in the center, and
have other parts of itself revolving around the center. But by what d
means can that, of which it is not fitting to have either center or parts,
revolve around the center?”
— “There is no way.”
“But by changing place, does it come to be here at one time and there
at another, and thus move?”
— “If it moves at all.”
“Was it not shown that it is impossible for it to be anywhere in
anything?”
— “Yes it was.”
“Then it is even more impossible for it to come to be?”
— “I do not understand how.”
61 Whenever kinēsis appears in relation to stasis we have opted to translate it as

‘motion’. Whenever it appears to point at a different state than ‘motion’ or
‘rest’, we have preserved the more generic sense of kinēsis, namely ‘change’.
“ οὐκ ἐννοῶ ὅπῃ.”

“ εἰ ἔν τῴ τι γίγνεται, οὐκ ἀνάγκη μήτε πω ἐν ἐκείνῳ εἶναι ἔτι
ἐγγιγνόμενον, μήτ᾿ ἔτι ἔξω ἐκείνου παντάπασιν, εἴπερ ἤδη ἐγγίγνεται; ”
e “ ἀνάγκη.”
“ εἰ ἄρα τι ἄλλο πείσεται τοῦτο, ἐκεῖνο ἂν μόνον πάσχοι οὗ μέρη εἴη·
τὸ μὲν γὰρ ἄν τι αὐτοῦ ἤδη ἐν ἐκείνῳ, τὸ δὲ ἔξω εἴη ἅμα· τὸ δὲ μὴ
ἔχον μέρη οὐχ οἷόν τέ που ἔσται τρόπῳ οὐδενὶ ὅλον ἅμα μήτε ἐντὸς
εἶναί τινὸς μήτε ἔξω.”
“ οὗ δὲ μήτε μέρη εἰσὶ μήθ᾿ ὅλον τυγχάνει ὄν, οὐ πολὺ ἔτι
ἀδυνατώτερον ἐγγίγνεσθαί που, μήτε κατὰ μέρη μήτε κατὰ ὅλον
139 ἐγγιγνόμενον; ”
“ φαίνεται.”
“ οὔτ᾿ ἄρα ποι ἰὸν καὶ ἔν τῳ γιγνόμενον χώραν ἀλλάττει, οὔτ᾿ ἐν τῷ
αὐτῷ περιφερόμενον οὔτε ἀλλοιούμενον.”
“ oὐκ ἔοικεν.”
“ κατὰ πᾶσαν ἄρα κίνησιν τὸ ἓν ἀκίνητον.”
“ ἀκίνητον.”
“ ἀλλὰ μὴν καὶ εἶναί γέ φαμεν ἔν τινι αὐτὸ ἀδύνατον.”
“ φαμὲν γάρ.”
“ οὐδ᾿ ἄρα ποτὲ ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ ἐστιν.”
“ τί δή; ”
“ ὅτι ἤδη ἂν ἐν ἐκείνῳ εἴη, ἐν ᾧ τῷ αὐτῷ ἐστιν.”
b “ ἀλλ᾿ οὔτε ἐν ἑαὑτῷ οὔτε ἐν ἄλλῳ οἷόν τε ἦν αὐτῷ ἐνεῖναι.63”
“ οὐδέποτε ἄρα ἐστὶ τὸ ἓν ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ.”
“ ἀλλὰ μὴν τό γε μηδέποτε ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ ὂν οὔτε ἡσυχίαν ἄγει οὔθ᾿
ἕστηκεν.”
“ οὐ γὰρ οἷόν τε.”
“ τὸ ἓν ἄρα, ὡς ἔοικεν, οὔθ᾿ ἕστηκεν οὔτε κινεῖται.”
“ οὔκουν δὴ φαίνεταί γε.”
63 ἐνεῖναι b: ἓν εἶναι BT.

“If something comes to be in something, isn’t it necessary that it not

yet be in that something—as it is still coming to be in it—but neither
that it is still entirely outside of that something if it is already coming
to be in it?”
“So if anything is to undergo this [type of change], only that which has e
parts could undergo it, because some part of it would already be in it,
and at the same time some other part of it would be outside. But it is
impossible for that which has no parts to be somehow simultaneously
either wholly inside or outside something.”
— “True.”
“And isn’t it still more impossible for that which neither has parts nor
happens to be a whole to come to be in something anywhere, since it
can come to be in it neither as a part nor as a whole?”
— “Apparently.”
“Therefore, it does not change its place either by going somewhere,
nor coming to be in something, nor by revolving in the same place, 139
nor by altering its character.”
“Then the one is immovable in regard to any kind of change/motion.”64
— “It is immovable.”
“And yet we also say that it is impossible for it to be in anything.”
— “We say so.”
“Then it is [also] never in ‘the same’.”
— “Why is that?”
“Because then it would already be in that same in which it is.”
“But it was impossible for it to be either in itself or in another.”65
— “Indeed.”
“So, the one is never in the same.” b
“But that which is never in the same is neither still nor at rest.”
— “No, it cannot be either.”
“The one, then, as it seems, is neither at rest nor in motion.”
— “No, apparently not.”
64 This being the summary of the observations of 139a1, both ‘change’ and
‘motion’ apply.
65 Two lessons here: eneinai and hen einai; we have chosen eneinai.
“ Οὐδὲ μὴν ταὐτόν γε οὔθ᾿ ἑτέρῳ οὔτε ἑαυτῷ ἔσται, οὐδ᾿ αὖ ἕτερον
οὔτε αὑτοῦ οὔτε ἑτέρου ἂν εἴη.”
“ πῇ δή; ”
“ ἕτερον μέν που ἑαυτοῦ ὂν ἑνὸς ἕτερον ἂν εἴη καὶ οὐκ ἂν εἴη ἕν.”
c “ καὶ μὴν ταὐτόν γε ἑτέρῳ ὂν ἐκεῖνο ἂν εἴη, αὐτὸ δ᾿ οὐκ ἂν εἴη· ὥστε
οὐδ᾿ ἂν οὕτως εἴη ὅπερ ἔστιν, ἕν, ἀλλ᾿ ἕτερον ἑνός.”
“ ταὐτὸν μὲν ἄρα ἑτέρῳ ἢ ἕτερον ἑαυτοῦ οὐκ ἔσται.”
“ ἕτερον δέ γε ἑτέρου οὐκ ἔσται, ἕως ἂν ᾖ ἕν. οὐ γὰρ ἑνὶ προσήκει ἑτέρῳ
τινὸς εἶναι, ἀλλὰ μόνῳ ἑτέρῳ ἑτέρου, ἄλλῳ δὲ οὐδενί.”
“ τῷ μὲν ἄρα ἓν εἶναι οὐκ ἔσται ἕτερον· ἢ οἴει; ”
“ οὐ δῆτα.”
“ ἀλλὰ μὴν εἰ μὴ τούτῳ, οὐχ ἑαυτῷ ἔσται, εἰ δὲ μὴ αὑτῷ, οὐδὲ αὐτό·
d αὐτὸ δὲ μηδαμῇ ὂν ἕτερον οὐδενὸς ἔσται ἕτερον.”
“ οὐδὲ μὴν ταὐτόν ἑαυτῷ ἔσται.”
“ οὐχ ἥπερ τοῦ ἑνὸς φύσις, αὑτὴ66 δήπου καὶ τοῦ ταὐτοῦ.”
“ τί δή; ”
“ ὅτι οὐκ, ἐπειδὰν ταὐτὸν γένηταί τῴ τι, ἓν γίγνεται.”
“ ἀλλὰ τί μήν; ”
“ τοῖς πολλοῖς ταὐτὸν γενόμενον πολλὰ ἀνάγκη γίγνεσθαι, ἀλλ᾿ οὐχ
ἕν.”
“ ἀλλ᾿ εἰ τὸ ἓν καὶ τὸ ταὐτὸν μηδαμῇ διαφέρει, ὁπότε τι ταὐτὸν
ἐγίγνετο, ἀεὶ ἂν ἓν ἐγίγνετο, καὶ ὁπότε ἕν, ταὐτόν.”
66 αὑτὴ Proclus: αὕτη B: αὐτὴ T.

SAME/DIFFERENT
“Further, the one cannot be the same either as another or as itself, and,
again, it would not be different either from itself or from another.”
— “How so?”
“If it were somehow different from itself it would be different from
‘one’, and it would not be one.”
— “True.”
“Yet, if it were the same as another, it would be that other, and it c
would not be itself. Therefore, in this way it would not be just what it
is—one—but would be other than one.”
— “Quite so.”
“Accordingly, it will not be the same as another nor different from itself.”
— “No, it will not.”
“Nor will it be different than another, as long as it is one. For it is not
fitting for the one to be other than something else, but only for [what
is] ‘other’ to be other than something else, and for nothing else.”
— “Right.”
“Consequently, the one will not be different by being one; or what do
you think?”
— “Of course not.”
“But, if it is not [different] for this reason, then it will not be [different]
by being itself, and if not [different] by being itself, it will itself not be
[different]. And if it is by no means different from anything, it will be d
different from nothing.”
— “That’s right.”
“Nor will it be the same as itself.”
— “Why not?”
“The very nature of the one is certainly not also that of the same.”
— “Why?”
“Because a thing does not become one whenever it comes to be the
same as something.”
— “But why?”
“That which comes to be the same as the many must come to be many,
not one.”
— “True.”
“But if the one and the same do not differ in any way, whenever
something came to be the same, it would always come to be one, and
whenever it came to be one, [it would always come to be] the same.”
e “ εἰ ἄρα τὸ ἓν ἑαυτῷ ταὐτὸν ἔσται, οὐχ ἓν ἑαυτῷ ἔσται. καὶ οὕτω ἓν
ὂν οὐχ ἓν ἔσται· ἀλλὰ μὴν τοῦτό γε ἀδύνατον· ἀδύνατον ἄρα καὶ τῷ
ἑνὶ ἢ ἑτέρου ἕτερον εἶναι ἢ ἑαυτῷ ταὐτόν.”
“ οὕτω δὴ ἕτερόν γε ἢ ταὐτὸν τὸ ἓν οὔτ᾿ ἂν αὑτῷ οὔτ᾿ ἂν ἑτέρῳ εἴη.”
“ Οὐδὲ μὴν ὅμοιόν τινι ἔσται οὐδ᾿ ἀνόμοιον οὔθ᾿ἑαυτῷ οὔθ ἑτέρῳ.”
“ τί δή; ”
“ ὅτι τὸ ταὐτόν που πεπονθὸς ὅμοιον.”
“ ναί.”
“ τοῦ δέ γε ἑνὸς χωρὶς ἐφάνη τὴν φύσιν τὸ ταὐτόν.”
140 “ ἐφάνη γάρ.”
“ ἀλλὰ μὴν εἴ τι πέπονθε χωρὶς τοῦ ἓν εἶναι τὸ ἕν, πλείω ἂν εἶναι
πεπόνθοι ἢ ἕν, τοῦτο δὲ ἀδύνατον.”
“ ναί.”
“ οὐδαμῶς ἔστιν ἄρα ταὐτὸν πεπονθὸς εἶναι τὸ ἓν οὔτε ἄλλῳ οὔθ᾿
ἑαυτῷ.”
“ οὐδὲ ὅμοιον ἄρα δυνατὸν αὐτὸ εἶναι οὔτε ἄλλῳ οὔθ᾿ ἑαυτῷ.”
“ οὐκ ἔοικεν.”
“ οὐδὲ μὴν ἕτερόν γε πέπονθεν εἶναι τὸ ἕν· καὶ γὰρ οὕτω πλείω ἂν
πεπόνθοι εἶναι ἢ ἕν.”
“ πλείω γάρ.”
b “ τό γε μὴν ἕτερον πεπονθὸς ἢ ἑαυτοῦ ἢ ἄλλου ἀνόμοιον ἂν εἴη ἢ ἑαυτῷ
ἢ ἄλλῳ, εἴπερ τὸ ταὐτὸν πεπονθὸς ὅμοιον.”
“ τὸ δέ γε ἕν, ὡς ἔοικεν, οὐδαμῶς ἕτερον πεπονθὸς οὐδαμῶς ἀνόμοιόν
ἐστιν οὔθ᾿ ἑαυτῷ οὔθ᾿ ἑτέρῳ.”
“ οὔτε ἄρα ὅμοιον οὔτε ἀνόμοιον οὔθ᾿ ἑτέρῳ οὔτε ἑαυτῷ ἂν εἴη τὸ ἕν.”
— “Of course.”
“Accordingly, if the one will be the same as itself, it will not be one e
with itself, and thus, being one it will not be one. But this is impos-
sible. Thus, it is impossible for the one to be other than the other, or
to be the same as itself.”
— “Yes, that is impossible.”
“Thus, the one can neither be different than nor the same as itself or
another.”
— “Indeed, it cannot.”
LIKE/UNLIKE
“Furthermore, it will be neither like nor unlike anything, whether in
regard to itself or to another.”
— “Why?”
“Because ‘the like’ is that which is affected somehow in the same way.”
— “Yes.”
“But it was shown that the same is quite separate in nature from the
one.”
— “Yes, this was shown.”
“But if the one is affected by anything apart from being one, it would 140
be so affected as to be more than one, and that is impossible.”
— “Yes.”
“Therefore, by no means can the one be affected so as to be the same,
either as another or as itself.”
“Consequently, it cannot be like another or itself.”
— “It seems not.”
“Nor can the one be affected so as to be different, for in this way it
would be so affected as to be more than one.”
— “Yes, more than one.”
“Surely, that which is affected in a different way than itself or another
would be unlike itself or another, if indeed what is affected in the b
same way is like.”
— “Right.”
“But the one, as it seems, since in no way can it be affected as being
different, is in no way unlike itself or another.”
— “It is not.”
“Consequently, the one can be neither like nor unlike either another
or itself.”
“ Καὶ μὴν τοιοῦτόν γε ὂν οὔτε ἴσον οὔτε ἄνισον ἔσται οὔτε ἑαυτῷ
οὔτε ἄλλῳ.”
“ πῇ; ”
“ ἴσον μὲν ὂν τῶν αὐτῶν μέτρων ἔσται ἐκείνῳ ᾧ ἂν ἴσον ᾖ.”
“ ναί.”
c “ μεῖζον δέ που ἢ ἔλαττον ὄν, οἷς μὲν ἂν ξύμμετρον ᾖ, τῶν μὲν
ἐλαττόνων πλείω μέτρα ἕξει, τῶν δὲ μειζόνων ἐλάττω.”
“ναί.”
“ οἷς δ᾿ ἂν μὴ σύμμετρον, τῶν μὲν σμικροτέρων, τῶν δὲ μειζόνων μέτρων
ἔσται.”
“ πῶς γὰρ οὔ; ”
“ οὐκοῦν ἀδύνατον τὸ μὴ μετέχον τοῦ αὐτοῦ ἢ μέτρων τῶν αὐτῶν εἶναι
ἢ ἄλλων ὡντινωνοῦν τῶν αὐτῶν; ”
“ ἴσον μὲν ἄρα οὔτ᾿ ἂν ἑαυτῷ οὔτε ἄλλῳ εἴη μὴ τῶν αὐτῶν μέτρων ὄν.”
“οὔκουν φαίνεταί γε.”
“ἀλλὰ μὴν πλειόνων γε μέτρων ὂν ἢ ἐλαττόνων, ὅσωνπερ μέτρων,
d τοσούτων καὶ μερῶν ἂν εἴη· καὶ οὕτως αὖ οὐκέτι ἓν ἔσται, ἀλλὰ
τοσαῦτα ὅσαπερ καὶ τὰ μέτρα.”
“ εἰ δέ γε ἑνὸς μέτρου εἴη, ἴσον ἂν γίγνοιτο τῷ μέτρῳ· τοῦτο δὲ
ἀδύνατον ἐφάνη, ἴσον τῳ67 αὐτὸ εἶναι.”
“ ἐφάνη γάρ.”
“ οὔτε ἄρα ἑνὸς μέτρου μετέχον οὔτε πολλῶν οὔτε ὀλίγων, οὔτε τὸ
παράπαν τοῦ αὐτοῦ μετέχον, οὔτε ἑαυτῷ ποτε, ὡς ἔοικεν, ἔσται ἴσον
οὔτε ἄλλῳ· οὔθ᾿ αὖ μεῖζον οὐδὲ ἔλαττον οὔτε ἑαυτοῦ οὔτε ἑτέρου.”
“ παντάπασι μὲν οὖν οὕτω.”
67 τῳ] αὐτῷ B: τῷ T.
— “So it seems.”
EQUAL/UNEQUAL
“Furthermore, being such, it will be neither equal nor unequal to itself
or to another.”
— “Why?”
“Being equal, it will be of the same measures as that to which it is equal.”
— “Yes.”
“And being somehow larger or smaller in regard to things with which
it would be commensurate, it will have more measures than those that
are smaller, and fewer than those that are larger.” c
— “Yes.”
“And, in regard to things with which it is not commensurate, it will be
of smaller measures in the one case, and of larger measures in the other.”
“So, is it not impossible for what does not partake of sameness to either
be of the same measures or possess any other characteristics that are
the same, whatsoever?”
— “It is impossible.”
“Therefore, it would not be equal either to itself or to another, if it is
not of the same measures.”
“But whether it is of more measures or smaller, it would consist of just
as many parts as of measures. And thus, again, it will no longer be one d
but will be just as many as its measures.”
— “Right.”
“But, if it were of one measure, it would come to be equal to that mea-
sure; yet it was shown to be impossible that it be equal to anything.”
“Therefore, since it does not partake of either one measure or many or
few, nor does it partake at all of what is same, it will, as it seems, never
be equal to itself or another. Nor again will it be greater or less either
than itself or than another.”
— “Absolutely so.”
e “ Τί δέ; πρεσβύτερον ἢ νεώτερον ἢ τὴν αὐτὴν ἡλικίαν ἔχειν τὸ ἓν

δοκεῖ τῳ68 δυνατὸν εἶναι; ”
“ τί δὴ γὰρ οὔ; ”
“ ὅτι που ἡλικίαν μὲν τὴν αὐτὴν ἔχον ἢ αὑτῷ ἢ ἄλλῳ ἰσότητος
χρόνου καὶ ὁμοιότητος μεθέξει, ὧν ἐλέγομεν οὐ μετεῖναι τῷ ἑνί, οὔθ᾿
ὁμοιότητος οὔτε ἰσότητος.”
“ ἐλέγομεν γὰρ οὖν.”
“ καὶ μὴν καὶ ὅτι ἀνομοιοτητος τε καὶ ἀνισότητος οὐ μετέχει, καὶ
τοῦτο ἐλέγομεν.”
141 “ πῶς οὖν οἷόν τε ἔσται τινὸς ἢ πρεσβύτερον ἢ νεώτερον εἶναι ἢ τὴν
αὐτὴν ἡλικίαν ἔχειν τῳ69 τοιοῦτον ὄν; ”
“ οὐδαμῶς.”
“ οὐκ ἄρ᾿ ἂν εἴη νεώτερον γε οὐδὲ πρεσβύτερον οὐδὲ τὴν αὐτὴν ἡλικίαν
ἔχον τὸ ἓν οὔτε αὑτῷ οὔτε ἄλλῳ.”
“ ἆρ᾿ οὖν οὐδὲ ἐν χρόνῳ τὸ παράπαν δύναιτ᾿ ἂν εἶναι τὸ ἕν, εἰ τοιοῦτον
εἴη; ἢ οὐκ ἀνάγκη, ἐάν τι ᾖ ἐν χρόνῳ, ἀεὶ αὐτὸ αὑτοῦ πρεσβύτερον
γίγνεσθαι; ”
“ οὐκοῦν τό γε πρεσβύτερον ἀεὶ νεωτέρου πρεσβύτερον; ”
“ τί μήν; ”
b “ τὸ πρεσβύτερον ἄρα ἑαυτοῦ γιγνόμενον καὶ νεώτερον ἑαυτοῦ ἅμα
γίγνεται, εἴπερ μέλλει ἔχειν ὅτου πρεσβύτερον γίγνηται.”
“ πῶς λέγεις; ”
“ ὧδε· διάφορον ἕτερον ἑτέρου οὐδὲν δεῖ γίγνεσθαι ἤδη ὄντος διαφόρου,
ἀλλὰ τοῦ μὲν ἤδη ὄντος ἤδη εἶναι, τοῦ δὲ γεγονότος γεγονέναι, τοῦ δὲ
μέλλοντος μέλλειν, τοῦ δὲ γιγνομένου οὔτε γεγονέναι οὔτε μέλλειν
οὔτε εἶναί πω διάφορον, ἀλλὰ γίγνεσθαι καὶ ἄλλως οὐκ εἶναι.”
“ ἀνάγκη γάρ.”
c “ ἀλλὰ μὴν τό γε πρεσβύτερον διαφορότης νεωτέρου ἐστὶ καὶ οὐδενὸς
ἄλλου.”
68 τω] τῷ BT.
69 τω] τῷ BT.
Text and Translation: 140e–141c 121
TIME—OLDER, YOUNGER, SAME AGE

“What about the following: do you think that it is possible for the one e
to be older or younger than, or the same age as, anything?”
— “Why not?”
“Because presumably, if it is the same age as itself or another, it will
partake of equality and likeness in regard to time, [but,] as we have said,
it does not belong to the one to partake of either likeness or equality.”
— “Yes, that’s what we have said.”
“And furthermore, that it does not partake of unlikeness and inequal-
ity, we also said this.”
“Then, if it is like this, how will it be possible for it to be older or 141
younger than, or of the same age as, anything?”
— “In no way.”
“So the one would be neither younger nor older than, nor the same
age as, itself or another.”
“So, if it is like this, could the one even be in time at all? Or isn’t it
necessary that if something is in time, it is always coming to be older
than itself?”
“Then is it not always the case that the older is always older than the
younger?”
“Then, what comes to be older than itself at the same time comes to b
be younger than itself, if indeed it is going to have something to come
to be older than?”
— “How do you mean?”
“I mean this: there is no need for anything different to come to be
other than another if it is already different;70 rather, it must now be
different from what is now different, have come to be different from
what has come to be different, and be going to be different from what
is going to be different. But what is coming to be different neither has
become [different], nor will be becoming [different], nor is [already]
different, but it is coming to be, and nothing else.”
“But surely ‘older’ constitutes a difference from ‘younger’, and from c
nothing else.”
70 Principle of Sufficient Reason; cf. Parmenides B8.9–10.

“ ἔστι γάρ.”
“ τὸ ἄρα πρεσβύτερον ἑαυτοῦ γιγνόμενον ἀνάγκη καὶ νεώτερον ἅμα
ἑαυτοῦ γίγνεσθαι.”
“ ἔοικεν.”
“ ἀλλὰ μὴν καὶ μήτε πλείω ἑαυτοῦ γίγνεσθαι χρόνον μήτ᾿ ἐλάττω,
ἀλλὰ τὸν ἴσον χρόνον καὶ γίγνεσθαι ἑαυτῷ καὶ εἶναι καὶ γεγονέναι
καὶ μέλλειν ἔσεσθαι.”
“ ἀνάγκη γὰρ οὖν καὶ ταῦτα.”
d “ ἀνάγκη ἄρα ἐστίν, ὡς ἔοικεν, ὅσα γε ἐν χρόνῳ ἐστὶ καὶ μετέχει τοῦ
τοιούτου, ἕκαστον αὐτῶν τὴν αὐτήν τε αὐτὸ αὑτῷ ἡλικίαν ἔχειν καὶ
πρεσβύτερόν τε αὑτοῦ ἅμα καὶ νεώτερον γίγνεσθαι.”
“ κινδυνεύει.”
“ ἀλλὰ μὴν τῷ γε ἑνὶ τῶν τοιούτων παθημάτων οὐδὲν μετῆν.”
“ οὐ γὰρ μετῆν.”
“ οὐδὲ ἄρα χρόνου αὐτῷ μέτεστιν, οὐδ᾿ ἔστιν ἔν τινι χρόνῳ.”
“ οὔκουν δή, ὥς γε ὁ λόγος αἱρεῖ.”
“ Τί οὖν; τὸ ἦν καὶ τὸ γέγονε καὶ τὸ ἐγίγνετο οὐ χρόνου μέθεξιν
δοκεῖ σημαίνειν τοῦ ποτὲ γεγονότος; ”
e “ καὶ μάλα.”
“ τί δέ; τὸ ἔσται καὶ τὸ γενήσεται καὶ τὸ γενηθήσεται οὐ τοῦ ἔπειτά
του71 μέλλοντος; ”
“ ναί.”
“ τὸ δὲ δὴ ἔστι καὶ τὸ γίγνεται οὐ τοῦ νῦν παρόντος; ”
“ εἰ ἄρα τὸ ἓν μηδαμῇ μηδενὸς μετέχει χρόνου, οὔτε ποτὲ γέγονεν οὔτ᾿
ἐγίγνετο οὔτ᾿ ἦν ποτέ, οὔτε νῦν γέγονεν οὔτε γίγνεται οὔτ᾿ ἔστιν, οὔτ᾿
ἔπειτα γενήσεται οὔτε γενηθήσεται οὔτ᾿ ἔσται.”
“ ἀληθέστατα.”
“ ἔστιν οὖν οὐσίας ὅπως ἄν τι μετάσχοι ἄλλως ἢ κατὰ τούτων τι; ”
“ οὐδαμῶς ἄρα τὸ ἓν οὐσίας μετέχει.”
71 ἔπειτά που G. Hermann: ἔπειτα τοῦ BT.

Text and Translation: 141c–e 123
— “Yes, it does.”
“So that which comes to be older than itself must also, at the same
time, come to be younger than itself.”
“But neither can it come to be for a longer time than itself, nor for a
shorter; rather, it must ‘come to be’ and ‘be’ and ‘have come to be’ and
‘be going to be’, for a time equal to itself.”
— “That is also necessary.”
“Thus it is necessary, as it seems, for each thing that is in time and d
participates in this kind of thing, to be the same age as itself and,
simultaneously, come to be older and younger than itself.”
— “Very likely.”
“But the one had nothing to do with such qualifications.”
— “No, it had not.”
“Then it has neither something to do with time, nor is it in any time.”
— “It has not, as the argument shows.”
“Well, doesn’t the ‘was’ and the ‘has come to be’ and the ‘was coming
to be’ seem to signify participation in time which has come to pass
sometime?”
— “Of course.” e
“And, then, does the ‘will be’ and the ‘will come to be’ and the ‘will
have come to be’ signify participation in time which will come to be
hereafter?”
— “Yes.”
“And does the ‘is’ and the ‘is coming to be’ signify participation in
time now present?”
“Therefore, if the one does not participate in time in any way, it has
not ever ‘come to be’, nor ‘was coming to be’, nor ‘was’ ever; it has not
now ‘come to be’, nor is it ‘coming to be’, nor ‘is it’; nor hereafter ‘will
it come to be’, nor ‘will it have come to be’, nor ‘will it be’.”
— “Most true.”
CONCLUSION
“Is it possible that anything could partake of being in any other way
than in one of these?”
— “No, it is not.”
“Therefore, the one does not partake of being in any way.”
“ οὐδαμῶς ἄρα ἔστι τὸ ἕν.”
“ οὐδ᾿ ἄρα οὕτως ἔστιν ὥστε ἓν εἶναι· εἴη γὰρ ἂν ἤδη ὂν καὶ οὐσίας
142 μετέχον· ἀλλ᾿ ὡς ἔοικε, τὸ ἓν οὔτε ἕν ἐστιν οὔτε ἔστιν, εἰ δεῖ τῷ τοιῷδε
λόγῳ πιστεύειν.”
“ ὃ δὲ μὴ ἔστι, τούτῳ τῷ μὴ ὄντι εἴη ἄν τι αὐτῷ ἢ αὐτοῦ; ”
“ καὶ πῶς; ”
“ οὐδ᾿ ἄρα ὄνομα ἔστιν αὐτῷ οὐδὲ λόγος οὐδέ τις ἐπιστήμη οὐδὲ
αἴσθησις οὐδὲ δόξα.”
“ οὐδ᾿ ὀνομάζεται ἄρα οὐδὲ λέγεται οὐδὲ δοξάζεται οὐδὲ
γιγνώσκεται, οὐδέ τι τῶν ὄντων αὐτοῦ αἰσθάνεται.”
“ ἦ δυνατὸν οὖν περὶ τὸ ἓν ταῦθ᾿ οὕτως ἔχειν; ”
“ οὔκουν ἔμοιγε δοκεῖ.”
Text and Translation: 141e–142a 125
“Therefore the one in no way is.”

“Therefore it is not even in such a way as to be one, for if it were, it
would already be that which is and would partake of being. But, as it
appears, the one neither is ‘one’ nor ‘is’, if we are to trust this sort of
argument.”
— “Quite likely.” 142
“If something is not, could anything belong to it, or be of it?”
— “How could it?”
“So no name belongs to it, nor is there an account, nor any knowledge,
nor perception, nor opinion of it.”
— “Evidently not.”
“Therefore, it is not named nor spoken of, nor is it the object of opinion
or knowledge, nor does anything among the ‘things that are’ perceive it.”
“Now, is it possible that these things are true of the one?”
— “I do not think so.”
b “ Βούλει οὖν ἐπὶ τὴν ὑπόθεσιν πάλιν ἐξ ἀρχῆς ἐπανέλθωμεν, ἐάν

τι ἡμῖν ἐπανιοῦσιν ἀλλοῖον φανῇ; ”
“ πάνυ μὲν οὖν βούλομαι.”
“ οὐκοῦν ἓν εἰ ἔστιν, φαμέν, τὰ συμβαίνοντα περὶ αὐτοῦ, ποῖά ποτε
τυγχάνει ὄντα, διομολογητέα ταῦτα· οὐχ οὕτω; ”
“ ναί.”
“ ὅρα δὴ ἐξ ἀρχῆς. ἓν εἰ ἔστιν, ἆρα οἷόν τε αὐτὸ εἶναι μέν, οὐσίας δὲ
μὴ μετέχειν; ”
“ οὐχ οἷόν τε.”
“ οὐκοῦν καὶ ἡ οὐσία τοῦ ἑνὸς εἴη ἂν οὐ ταὐτὸν οὖσα τῷ ἑνί· οὐ γὰρ
c ἂν ἐκείνη ἦν ἐκείνου οὐσία, οὐδ᾿ ἂν ἐκεῖνο τὸ ἕν, ἐκείνης μετεῖχεν,
ἀλλ᾿ ὅμοιον ἂν ἦν λέγειν ἕν τε εἶναι καὶ ἓν ἕν. νῦν δὲ οὐχ αὕτη ἐστὶν
ἡ ὑπόθεσις, εἰ ἓν ἕν, τί72 χρὴ ξυμβαίνειν, ἀλλ᾿ εἰ ἓν ἔστιν· οὐχ οὕτω; ”
“ οὐκοῦν ὡς ἄλλο τι σημαῖνον τὸ ἔστι τοῦ ἕν; ”
“ ἆρα οὖν ἄλλο ἢ ὅτι οὐσίας μετέχει τὸ ἕν, τοῦτ᾿ ἂν εἴη τὸ λεγόμενον,
ἐπειδάν τις συλλήβδην εἴπῃ ὅτι ἓν ἔστιν; ”
“ πάλιν δὴ λέγωμεν, ἓν εἰ ἔστι, τί συμβήσεται. σκόπει οὖν, εἰ οὐκ
ἀνάγκη ταύτην τὴν ὑπόθεσιν τοιοῦτον ὂν τὸ ἓν σημαίνειν, οἷον μέρη
ἔχειν; ”
“ πῶς; ”
d “ ὧδε· εἰ τὸ ἔστι τοῦ ἑνὸς ὄντος λέγεται καὶ τὸ ἓν τοῦ ὄντος ἑνός, ἔστι
δὲ οὐ τὸ αὐτὸ ἥ τε οὐσία καὶ τὸ ἕν, τοῦ αὐτοῦ δὲ ἐκείνου οὗ ὑπεθέμεθα,
τοῦ ἑνὸς ὄντος, ἆρα οὐκ ἀνάγκη τὸ μὲν ὅλον ἓν ὂν εἶναι αὐτό, τούτου
δὲ γίγνεσθαι μόρια τό τε ἓν καὶ τὸ εἶναι; ”
“ πότερον οὖν ἑκάτερον τῶν μορίων τούτων μόριον μόνον προσεροῦμεν,
ἢ τοῦ ὅλου μόριον τό γε μόριον προσρητέον; ”
“ τοῦ ὅλου.”
72 ἓν ἕν, τί] ἓν εντι B: ἓν τι T.

SECOND ARGUMENT
“So, do you want us to return to the hypothesis from the beginning, b
to see whether something of a different sort appears to us, as we go
through it [again]?”
— “I want to, by all means!”
“‘If one is’, as we say, we should agree upon the consequences that will
follow for it, of whatever sort these may happen to be. Is it not so?”
— “Yes, it is.”
“Consider from the beginning: ‘if one is’, can it be, but not partake
of being?”
— “It cannot.”
“Then the being of the one would also exist, without it being the same
as the one; otherwise, it could not be the being of the one, nor could
the one partake in it.
Otherwise, saying that ‘one is’ would be like saying that ‘one [is] one’. c
But this time around this is not our hypothesis, namely, what the
consequences must be ‘if one [is] one’, but what the consequences are
‘if one is’. Isn’t that so?”
“Is that because ‘is’ signifies something other than ‘one’?”
“So whenever someone says concisely that ‘one is’, would this amount
to saying nothing other than that ‘the one partakes of being’?”
PARTS/WHOLE—ONE/MANY
“Then let us again state what the consequences will be ‘if one is’.
Consider whether this hypothesis must not signify that the one is of
such a sort as to have parts.”
— “How so?”
“In this way: if ‘is’ is said of the ‘one being’, and ‘one’ is said of the d
‘being one’, and the being and the one are not the same, but are of
that same of which we have made our supposition, namely, the ‘one
being’, doesn’t it follow by necessity, that (a) ‘one being’, by being that,
constitutes a whole, of which (b) ‘one’ and ‘being’ are its parts?”
— “Yes, necessarily.”
“Then shall we call each of these two parts simply ‘part’, or should the
part be called ‘part’ [because it is part] of the whole?”
— “Of the whole.”
“ καὶ ὅλον ἄρα ἐστί, ὃ ἂν ἓν ᾖ, καὶ μόριον ἔχει.”

e “ τί οὖν; τῶν μορίων ἑκάτερον τούτων τοῦ ἑνὸς ὄντος, τό τε ἓν καὶ τὸ ὄν,
ἆρα ἀπολείπεσθον ἢ τὸ ἓν τοῦ εἶναι μορίου ἢ τὸ ὂν τοῦ ἑνὸς μορίου; ”
“ οὐκ ἂν εἴη.”
“ πάλιν ἄρα καὶ τῶν μορίων ἑκάτερον τό τε ἓν ἴσχει καὶ τὸ ὄν, καὶ
γίγνεται τὸ ἐλάχιστον ἐκ δυοῖν αὖ μορίοιν τὸ μόριον, καὶ κατὰ τὸν
αὐτὸν λόγον οὕτως ἀεί, ὅτιπερ ἂν μόριον γένηται, τούτω τὼ μορίω73
143 ἀεὶ ἴσχει· τό τε γὰρ ἓν τὸ ὂν ἀεὶ ἴσχει καὶ τὸ ὂν τὸ ἕν· ὥστε ἀνάγκη
δύ᾿ ἀεὶ γιγνόμενον μηδέποτε ἓν εἶναι.”
“ παντάπασι μὲν οὖν.”
“ οὐκοῦν ἄπειρον ἂν τὸ πλῆθος οὕτω τὸ ἓν ὂν εἴη; ”
“ Ἴθι δὴ καὶ τῇδε ἔτι.”
“ πῇ; ”
“ οὐσίας φαμὲν μετέχειν τὸ ἕν, διὸ ἔστιν; ”
“ ναί.”
“ καὶ διὰ ταῦτα δὴ τὸ ἓν ὂν πολλὰ ἐφάνη.”
“ οὕτως.”
“ τί δέ; αὐτὸ τὸ ἕν, ὃ δή φαμεν οὐσίας μετέχειν, ἐὰν αὐτὸ τῇ διανοίᾳ
μόνον καθ᾿ αὑτὸ λάβωμεν ἄνευ τούτου οὗ φαμεν μετέχειν, ἆρά γε ἓν
μόνον φανήσεται ἢ καὶ πολλὰ τὸ αὐτὸ τοῦτο; ”
b “ ἕν, οἶμαι ἔγωγε.” “ ἴδωμεν74 δή· ἄλλο τι ἕτερον μὲν ἀνάγκη τὴν
οὐσίαν αὐτοῦ εἶναι, ἕτερον δὲ αὐτό, εἴπερ μὴ οὐσία τὸ ἕν, ἀλλ᾿ ὡς ἓν
οὐσίας μετέσχεν; ”
“ οὐκοῦν εἰ ἕτερον μὲν ἡ οὐσία, ἕτερον δὲ τὸ ἕν, οὔτε τῷ ἓν τὸ ἓν τῆς
οὐσίας ἕτερον οὔτε τῷ οὐσία εἶναι ἡ οὐσία τοῦ ἑνὸς ἄλλο, ἀλλὰ τῷ
ἑτέρῳ τε καὶ ἄλλῳ ἕτερα ἀλλήλων.”
73 τούτῳ τῷ μορίῳ B pr. T.

74 ἴδωμεν] εἰδῶμεν BT.
“Therefore, whatever is one both is a whole and has a part.”

“Now, what about each of these two parts of the ‘one that is’, ‘oneness’
and ‘being’? Is ‘oneness’ ever absent from the being[-ness] part, or is e
‘being’[-ness] absent from the oneness part?”
— “No, that could not be.”
“So once again, each of the two parts possesses oneness and being[-ness],
and the part, in turn, is composed of at least two parts, and endlessly,
according to the same reasoning, whatever part comes to be always
possesses these two parts, since oneness always possesses being and
being always possesses oneness. Consequently, since by necessity 75 it 143
always comes to be two, it is never one.”
— “Absolutely.”
“So, in this way, wouldn’t the ‘one that is’ be unlimited in multitude?”
DIFFERENCE/OTHERNESS
“Come, let us proceed in the following way as well.”
— “In which way?”
“Do we say that the one partakes of being, and therefore is?”
— “Yes.”
“And for this reason, ‘the one that is’ was shown to be many?”
— “So it was.”
“And what about the one itself, which we say partakes of being? If in
thought we were to grasp it all alone by itself, without that of which
we say it partakes, will it appear to be only one, or will this same thing
appear to be many?”
— “One, I believe.”
“Let us see then. It is necessary that its being must be one thing and b
it itself again another thing, if indeed the one is not being, but rather,
as one, it partakes of being.”
“So if the being is one thing and the one is another thing, neither by
being one is the one different from being, nor by being being is the
being different from the one, but by difference and otherness they are
different from each other.”
75 The modal operator ‘by necessity’ seems to apply to the whole phrase.

“ ὥστε οὐ ταὐτόν ἐστιν οὔτε τῷ ἑνὶ οὔτε τῇ οὐσίᾳ τὸ ἕτερον.”
“ πῶς γάρ; ”
c “ Τί οὖν; ἐὰν προελώμεθα αὐτῶν εἴτε βούλει τὴν οὐσίαν καὶ τὸ
ἕτερον εἴτε τὴν οὐσίαν καὶ τὸ ἓν εἴτε τὸ ἓν καὶ τὸ ἕτερον, ἆρ᾿ οὐκ ἐν
ἑκάστῃ τῇ προαιρέσει προαιρούμεθά τινε ὣ ὀρθῶς ἔχει καλεῖσθαι
ἀμφοτέρω; ”
“ πῶς; ”
“ ὧδε· ἔστιν οὐσίαν εἰπεῖν; ”
“ ἔστιν.”
“ καὶ αὖθις εἰπεῖν ἕν; ”
“ καὶ τοῦτο.”
“ ἆρ᾿ οὖν οὐχ ἑκάτερον αὐτοῖν εἴρηται; ”
“ ναί.”
“ τί δ᾿ ὅταν εἴπω οὐσία τε καὶ ἕν, ἆρα οὐκ ἀμφοτέρω; ”
“ οὐκοῦν καὶ ἐὰν οὐσία τε καὶ ἕτερον ἢ ἕτερόν τε καὶ ἕν, καὶ οὕτω
d πανταχῶς ἐφ᾿ ἑκάστου ἄμφω λέγω; ”
“ ναί.”
“ ὣ δ᾿ ἂν ἄμφω ὀρθῶς προσαγορεύησθον, ἆρα οἷόν τε ἄμφω μὲν αὐτὼ
εἶναι, δύο δὲ μή; ”
“ ὣ76 δ᾿ ἂν δύο ἦτον, ἔστι τις μηχανὴ μὴ οὐχ ἑκάτερον αὐτοῖν ἓν εἶναι; ”
“ οὐδεμία.”
“ τούτων ἄρα ἐπείπερ σύνδυο77 ἕκαστα ξυμβαίνει εἶναι, καὶ ἓν ἂν εἴη
ἕκαστον.”
“ εἰ δὲ ἓν ἕκαστον αὐτῶν ἐστι, συντεθέντος ἑνὸς ὁποιουοῦν ᾑτινιοῦν
συζυγίᾳ οὐ τρία γίγνεται τὰ πάντα; ”
“ ναί.”
“ τρία δὲ οὐ περιττὰ καὶ δύο ἄρτια; ”
e “ πῶς δ᾿ οὔ; ” “ τί δέ; δυοῖν ὄντοιν οὐκ ἀνάγκη εἶναι καὶ δίς, καὶ τριῶν
ὄντων τρίς, εἴπερ ὑπάρχει τῷ τε δύο τὸ δὶς ἓν καὶ τῷ τρία τὸ τρὶς ἕν; ”
76 ὣ] ᾧ B: ὦ T.
77 σύνδυο Stephanus: οὖν δύο B: σὺν δύο T.
Text and Translation: 143b–e 131
“So ‘the different’ is not the same as ‘the one’ or ‘the being’.”
— “Certainly not.”
“Now, if we should choose from these, let’s say, ‘the being and the dif- c
ferent’, or ‘the being and the one’, or ‘the one and the different’, do we
not in each case choose a pair that is correctly called ‘both’?”
“As follows: is it possible to speak of ‘being’?”
— “It is.”
“And, again, is it possible to speak of ‘one’?”
— “That, too.”
“So has not each of the two [just] been spoken of?”
— “Yes.”
“Then what about when I say ‘being and one’? Have not both been
mentioned?”
“And if I say ‘being and different’ or ‘different and one’, am I not d
speaking of both in each case too?”
— “Yes.”
GENERATION OF NUMBERS
“Is it possible for whatever is correctly called ‘both’ to be both, but
not ‘two’?”
— “It is not possible.”
“But for whatever would be two, is there any device by which each of
these two would not be one?”
— “None.”
“So since each of these things happens to be a pair, each one would
be one.”
“And if each of them is one [individually], whenever a one is added to
any sort of pair, doesn’t the total become three?”
— “Yes.”
“And isn’t three odd, and two even?”
— “Of course.” e
“What about this? If there are two, must there not also be ‘twice’, and if
three, also ‘thrice’, if indeed two is twice one, and three is thrice one?”
— “There must.”
“ δυοῖν δὲ ὄντοιν καὶ δὶς οὐκ ἀνάγκη δύο δὶς εἶναι; καὶ τριῶν καὶ τρὶς
οὐκ ἀνάγκη αὖ τρία τρὶς εἶναι; ”
“ τί δέ; τριῶν ὄντων καὶ δὶς ὄντων καὶ δυοῖν ὄντοιν καὶ τρὶς ὄντοιν οὐκ
ἀνάγκη τε τρία δὶς εἶναι καὶ δύο τρίς78; ”
“ πολλή γε.”
144 “ ἄρτιά τε ἄρα ἀρτιάκις ἂν εἴη καὶ περιττὰ περιττάκις καὶ ἄρτια
περιττάκις καὶ περιττὰ ἀρτιάκις.”
“ ἔστιν οὕτω.”
“ εἰ οὖν ταῦτα οὕτως ἔχει, οἴει τινὰ ἀριθμὸν ὑπολείπεσθαι, ὃν οὐκ
ἀνάγκη εἶναι; ”
“ οὐδαμῶς γε.”
“ εἰ ἄρα ἔστιν ἕν, ἀνάγκη καὶ ἀριθμὸν εἶναι.”
“ ἀλλὰ μὴν ἀριθμοῦ γε ὄντος πολλ᾿ ἂν εἴη καὶ πλῆθος ἄπειρον τῶν
ὄντων· ἢ οὐκ ἄπειρος ἀριθμὸς πλήθει καὶ μετέχων οὐσίας γίγνεται; ”
“ καὶ πάνυ γε.”
“ οὐκοῦν εἰ πᾶς ἀριθμὸς οὐσίας μετέχει, καὶ τὸ μόριον ἕκαστον τοῦ
ἀριθμοῦ μετέχοι ἂν αὐτῆς; ”
“ ναί.”
b “ ἐπὶ πάντα ἄρα πολλὰ ὄντα ἡ οὐσία νενέμηται καὶ οὐδενὸς
ἀποστατεῖ τῶν ὄντων, οὔτε τοῦ σμικροτάτου οὔτε τοῦ μεγίστου; ἢ
τοῦτο μὲν καὶ ἄλογον ἐρέσθαι; πῶς γὰρ ἂν δὴ οὐσία γε τῶν ὄντων
του ἀποστατοῖ79; ”
“ κατακεκερμάτισται ἄρα ὡς οἷόν τε σμικρότατα καὶ μέγιστα καὶ
c πανταχῶς ὄντα, καὶ μεμέρισται πάντων μάλιστα, καὶ ἔστι μέρη
ἀπέραντατῆς οὐσίας.”
“ ἔχει οὕτω.”
“ πλεῖστα ἄρα ἐστὶ τὰ μέρη αὐτῆς.”
“ πλεῖστα μέντοι.”
“ τί οὖν; ἔστι τι αὐτῶν ὃ ἔστι μὲν μέρος τῆς οὐσίας, οὐδὲν μέντοι
μέρος; ”
“ καὶ πῶς ἄν τοῦτο80 γένοιτο; ”
78 δύο τρίς in marg. b, Proclus suppl.: τρία δις B: δὶς τρία T.

79 ἀποστατοῖ corr. T: ἀποστατοίη Stobaeus: ἀποστατεῖ B pr. T.
80 τοῦτο] τοι τοῦτο BT.
“And if there are ‘two’ and ‘twice’, must there not be ‘twice two’ [i.e.,
two times two]? And if there are ‘three’ and ‘thrice’, must there not be
‘thrice three’ [i.e., three times three]?”
“What of this: if there are ‘three’ and ‘twice’, and if there are ‘two’ and
‘thrice’, must there not be twice three and thrice two?”
— “Yes. It must, necessarily.”
“And therefore there would be ‘even times even’, ‘odd times odd’, ‘odd 144
times even’, and ‘even times odd’.”
— “It is so.”
“And if that is so, do you think there is any number left that does not
necessarily exist?”
— “By no means.”
“Consequently, ‘if one is’, there must also be number.”
LIMITED/UNLIMITED—COMPRESENCE OF ONE AND BEING

“But if there is number, there would be ‘the many’, and an unlimited
multitude of ‘things that are’. Or would not a number, unlimited in
multitude, also come about by partaking of being?”
— “It certainly would.”
“Then if all number partakes of being, would not each part of number
also partake of it?”
— “Yes.”
“So is being[-ness] allocated to all the many ‘things that are’, and it is b
not absent from any of the ‘things that are’, neither from the smallest
nor from the largest? Or is it unreasonable to even ask this question?
For how could being be absent from ‘things that are’?”
“So being is cut up into the smallest possible things and into the larg-
est possible ones and into the ‘things that are’ in all possible ways, c
and it is of all things the most partitioned, and the parts of being are
unlimited [in number].”
— “True.”
“Therefore, its parts are most multitudinous.”
— “Most multitudinous, indeed.”
“But what about this: is there any among them that is part of being,
and yet not a part?”
— “How could this be?”
“ ἀλλ᾿ εἴπερ γε, οἶμαι, ἔστιν, ἀνάγκη αὐτὸ ἀεί, ἕωσπερ ἂν ᾖ, ἕν γέ τι

εἶναι, μηδὲν δὲ ἀδύνατον.”
“ πρὸς ἅπαντι ἄρα ἑκάστῳ τῷ τῆς οὐσίας μέρει πρόσεστι τὸ ἕν, οὐκ
ἀπολειπόμενον οὔτε σμικροτέρου οὔτε μείζονος μέρους οὔτε ἄλλου
d οὐδενός.”
“ οὕτω.”
“ ἆρα οὖν ἓν ὂν πολλαχοῦ ἅμα ὅλον ἐστί; τοῦτο ἄθρει.”
“ ἀλλ᾿ ἀθρῶ καὶ ὁρῶ ὅτι ἀδύνατον.”
“ μεμερισμένον ἄρα, εἴπερ μὴ ὅλον· ἄλλως γάρ που οὐδαμῶς ἅμα ἅπασι
τοῖς τῆς οὐσίας μέρεσιν παρέσται ἢ μεμερισμένον.”
“ ναί.”
“ καὶ μὴν τό γε μεριστὸν πολλὴ ἀνάγκη εἶναι τοσαῦτα ὅσαπερ μέρη.”
“ οὐκ ἄρα ἀληθῆ ἄρτι ἐλέγομεν λέγοντες ὡς πλεῖστα μέρη ἡ οὐσία
e νενεμημένη εἴη. οὐδὲ γὰρ πλείω τοῦ ἑνὸς νενέμηται, ἀλλ᾿ ἴσα, ὡς ἔοικε,
τῷ ἑνί. οὔτε γὰρ τὸ ὂν τοῦ ἑνὸς ἀπολείπεται οὔτε τὸ ἓν τοῦ ὄντος, ἀλλ᾿
ἐξισοῦσθον δύο ὄντε ἀεὶ παρὰ πάντα.”
“ παντάπασιν οὕτω φαίνεται.”
“ τὸ ἓν ἄρα αὐτὸ κεκερματισμένον ὑπὸ τῆς οὐσίας πολλά τε καὶ
ἄπειρα τὸ πλῆθός ἐστιν.”
“ οὐ μόνον ἄρα τὸ ὂν ἓν πολλά ἐστιν, ἀλλὰ καὶ αὐτὸ τὸ ἓν ὑπὸ τοῦ
ὄντος διανενεμημένον πολλὰ ἀνάγκη εἶναι.”
“ Καὶ μὴν ὅτι γε ὅλου τὰ μόρια μόρια, πεπερασμένον ἂν εἴη κατὰ
145 τὸ ὅλον τὸ ἕν· ἢ οὐ περιέχεται ὑπὸ τοῦ ὅλου τὰ μόρια; ”
“ ἀλλὰ μὴν τό γε περιέχον πέρας ἂν εἴη.”
“ τὸ ἓν ἄρα ὂν ἕν τέ ἐστί που καὶ πολλά, καὶ ὅλον καὶ μόρια, καὶ
πεπερασμένον καὶ ἄπειρον πλήθει.”
“I suppose, rather, if indeed it is, it must always, so long as it is, be one

thing, as it cannot be nothing.”
— “It must.”
“So the one is present alongside [i.e., compresent with] each and every
part of being, and is absent neither from a smaller nor from a larger d
part, nor from any other.”
— “So it is.”
“Then, being one, is it, as a whole, in many places at the same time?
Consider this carefully.”
— “I am doing this, and I realize that this is impossible.”
“Then, if indeed not as ‘a whole’, it is as ‘divided into parts’. For how
else will it be present alongside all the parts of being at the same time,
if it is not divided?”
— “Yes.”
“Then what is divided must necessarily be just as many as its parts.”
— “It must.”
“But then we were not speaking the truth just now when we said that
being has been allocated into most multitudinous parts. For it has e
not been allocated into more than [what is] one, but, as it seems, into
equally many as the one.”
“For being is not absent from [whatever is] oneness, nor oneness from
being, but by being two [together], they are always equal throughout
all things.”
— “It appears entirely so.”
“Thus, the one itself, cut up by being, is many and unlimited in
multitude.”
“So not only is the ‘one being’ many, but the one itself is necessarily
many, having been apportioned by being.”
“Furthermore, inasmuch as parts are parts of a whole, the one would
be limited by the whole. Or are not the parts contained by the whole?” 145
— “By necessity.”
“But that which contains would be a limit.”
“Therefore, the ‘one being’ is somehow both one and many, both whole
and parts, both limited and unlimited in multitude.”
“ ἆρ᾿ οὖν οὐκ, ἐπείπερ πεπερασμένον, καὶ ἔσχατα ἔχον; ”

“ τί δ᾿; εἰ ὅλον, οὐ καὶ ἀρχὴν ἂν ἔχοι καὶ μέσον καὶ τελευτήν; ἢ οἷόν τέ
τι ὅλον εἶναι ἄνευ τριῶν τούτων; κἄν του81 ἓν ὁτιοῦν αὐτῶν ἀποστατῇ,
ἐθελήσει ἔτι ὅλον εἶναι; ”
“ οὐκ ἐθελήσει.”
b “ καὶ ἀρχὴν δή, ὡς ἔοικεν, καὶ τελευτὴν καὶ μέσον ἔχοι ἂν τὸ ἕν.”
“ ἔχοι.”
“ ἀλλὰ μὴν τό γε μέσον ἴσον τῶν ἐσχάτων ἀπέχει· οὐ γὰρ ἂν ἄλλως
μέσον εἴη.”
“ καὶ σχήματος δή τινος, ὡς ἔοικε, τοιοῦτον ὂν μετέχοι ἂν τὸ ἕν, ἤτοι
εὐθέος ἢ στρογγύλου ἤ τινος μικτοῦ ἐξ ἀμφοῖν.”
“ μετέχοι γὰρ ἄν.”
“ Ἆρ᾿ οὖν οὕτως ἔχον οὐκ αὐτό τε ἐν ἑαυτῷ ἔσται καὶ ἐν ἄλλῳ; ”
“ πῶς; ”
“ τῶν μερῶν που ἕκαστον ἐν τῷ ὅλῳ ἐστὶ καὶ οὐδὲν ἐκτὸς τοῦ ὅλου.”
“ οὕτως.”
c “ πάντα δὲ τὰ μέρη ὑπὸ τοῦ ὅλου περιέχεται; ”
“ ναί.”
“ καὶ μὴν τά γε πάντα μέρη τὰ αὑτοῦ τὸ ἕν ἐστι, καὶ οὔτε τι πλέον
οὔτε ἔλαττον ἢ πάντα.”
“ οὐκοῦν καὶ τὸ ὅλον τὸ ἕν ἐστιν; ”
“ εἰ ἄρα πάντα τὰ μέρη ἐν ὅλῳ τυγχάνει ὄντα, ἔστι δὲ τά τε πάντα τὸ
ἓν καὶ αὐτὸ τὸ ὅλον, περιέχεται δὲ ὑπὸ τοῦ ὅλου τὰ πάντα, ὑπὸ τοῦ
ἑνὸς ἂν περιέχοιτο τὸ ἕν, καὶ οὕτως ἂν ἤδη τὸ ἓν αὐτὸ ἐν ἑαυτῷ εἴη.”
d “ ἀλλὰ μέντοι τό γε ὅλον αὖ οὐκ ἐν τοῖς μέρεσίν ἐστιν, οὔτε ἐν πᾶσιν
οὔτε ἐν τινί. εἰ γὰρ ἐν πᾶσιν, ἀνάγκη καὶ ἐν ἑνί· ἔν τινι γὰρ ἑνὶ μὴ ὂν
οὐκ ἂν ἔτι που δύναιτο ἔν γε ἅπασιν εἶναι· εἰ δὲ τοῦτο μὲν τὸ ἓν τῶν
ἁπάντων ἐστί, τὸ δὲ ὅλον ἐν τούτῳ μὴ ἔνι,82 πῶς ἔτι ἔν γε τοῖς πᾶσιν
ἐνέσται83; ”
81 του Schleiermacher: τοῦ BT.

82 ἔνι corr. Ven. 189: ἑνὶ B: ενὶ T.
83 ἐνέσται Par. 1836: ἓν ἔσται BT.
SHAPE—BEGINNING, MIDDLE, END

“So, since indeed it is limited, does it not also have extremities?”
“What about this: if it is a whole, would it not also have a beginning,
a middle, and an end? Or can something be a whole without these
three? And if any one of them is absent from something, would it still
be willing to be whole?”
“So the one, it seems, would have a beginning, an end, and a middle.” b
— “It would.”
“But the middle is equidistant from the extremities; otherwise, it would
not be ‘middle’.”
“Being of such a sort, the one, it seems, would partake of some shape,
either straight, or round, or some combination of both.”
— “Yes, it would.”
IN ITSELF/IN ANOTHER
“Since it is so, will it not be both in itself and in another?”
— “How so?”
“Each of the parts is somehow in the whole, and none is outside the
whole.”
— “Just so.”
“Are all the parts contained by the whole?” c
— “Yes.”
“And indeed the one is all of its parts, and neither more nor less than all.”
“Is not the one also the whole?”
“So if all the parts happen to be in the whole, and the one is both all
the parts as well as the whole itself, and all are contained by the whole,
then the one would be contained by the one; and in this way the one
itself would now be in itself.”
“But again the whole would not be in its parts, neither in all nor in some d
one [part]. For if it were in all, it would by necessity also be in one [of
these], because if it were not in some one [part], it could no longer be
somehow in all. And if that one [part] is one among all, and the whole
is not in it, how will the whole still be present in all?”
“ oὐδαμῶς.”
“ oὐδὲ μὴν ἐν τισὶ τῶν μερῶν. εἰ γὰρ ἐν τισὶ τὸ ὅλον εἴη, τὸ πλέον ἂν
ἐν τῷ ἐλάττονι εἴη, ὅ ἐστιν ἀδύνατον.”
“ μὴ ὂν δ᾿ ἐν πλέοσιν μηδ᾿ ἐν ἑνὶ μηδ᾿ ἐν ἅπασι τοῖς μέρεσι τὸ ὅλον
e οὐκ ἀνάγκη ἐν ἑτέρῳ τινὶ εἶναι ἢ μηδαμοῦ ἔτι εἶναι; ”
“ οὐκοῦν μηδαμοῦ μὲν ὂν οὐδὲν ἂν εἴη, ὅλον δὲ ὄν, ἐπειδὴ οὐκ ἐν αὑτῷ
ἐστιν, ἀνάγκη ἐν ἄλλῳ εἶναι; ”
“ ᾗ μὲν ἄρα τὸ ἓν ὅλον, ἐν ἄλλῳ ἐστίν· ᾗ δὲ τὰ πάντα μέρη ὄντα
τυγχάνει, αὐτὸ ἐν ἑαυτῷ· καὶ οὕτω τὸ ἓν ἀνάγκη αὐτό τε ἐν ἑαυτῷ
εἶναι καὶ ἐν ἑτέρῳ.”
“ Οὕτω δὴ πεφυκὸς τὸ ἓν ἆρ᾿ οὐκ ἀνάγκη καὶ κινεῖσθαι καὶ
ἑστάναι; ”
“ πῇ; ”
146 “ ἕστηκε μέν που, εἴπερ αὐτὸ ἐν ἑαυτῷ ἐστιν. ἐν γὰρ ἑνὶ ὂν καὶ ἐκ
τούτου μὴ μεταβαῖνον ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ ἂν εἴη, ἐν ἑαυτῷ.”
“ τὸ δέ γε ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ ἀεὶ ὂν ἑστὸς δήπου ἀνάγκη ἀεὶ εἶναι.”
“ τί δέ; τὸ ἐν ἑτέρῳ ἀεὶ ὂν οὐ τὸ ἐναντίον ἀνάγκη μηδέποτ᾿ ἐν τῷ
αὐτῷ εἶναι, μηδέποτε δὲ ὂν ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ μηδὲ ἑστάναι, μὴ ἑστὸς δὲ
κινεῖσθαι; ”
“ οὕτως.”
“ ἀνάγκη ἄρα τὸ ἕν, αὐτό τε ἐν ἑαυτῷ ἀεὶ ὂν καὶ ἐν ἑτέρῳ, ἀεὶ
κινεῖσθαί τε καὶ ἑστάναι.”
Text and Translation: 145d–146a 139
“Nor will it be in some of the parts: because if the whole were in some
[parts], the more would be in the less, which is impossible.”84
— “Yes, impossible.”
“But if the whole is not in more than one, nor in one, nor in all the
parts, must it not either be in something different or be no longer
anywhere at all?” e
— “It must.”
“So, if it were nowhere, it would be nothing, but since it is whole, and
not in itself, it must be in another, mustn’t it?”
— “By all means.”
“So insofar as the one is a whole, it is in another, but insofar as it
consists of all the parts, it is in itself. And thus the one must be both
in itself and in another.”
— “It must.”
MOTION/REST
“Given that this is its nature, must not the one be both in motion and
at rest?”
— “How?”
“It is somewhere at rest, if indeed it is in itself. For if it is in one thing 146
and does not move from it, it would be in the same thing, namely, in
itself.”
— “Yes.”
“That which is always in the same thing must surely always be at rest
somewhere.”
“What about this? What is always in something different must con-
versely never be in the same; and if it is never in the same, it must also
not be at rest; and if it is not at rest, is it not in motion?”
— “So it is.”
“Therefore the one, since it itself is always in itself, as well as in some-
thing different, is necessarily always both in motion and at rest.”
84 Cornford (Plato and Parmenides, 148–150) sees here a link to Zeno’s argu-
ment against place (Simplicius, Phys. 562, 1) and Gorgias’ alleged imitation
of that argument (see Aristotle, MXG 979b, 22). See also 150e–151a.
b “ Καὶ μὴν ταὐτόν γε δεῖ εἶναι αὐτὸ ἑαυτῷ καὶ ἕτερον ἑαυτοῦ, καὶ
τοῖς ἄλλοις ὡσαύτως ταὐτόν τε καὶ ἕτερον εἶναι, εἴπερ καὶ τὰ πρόσθεν
πέπονθεν.”
“ πῶς; ”
“ πᾶν που πρὸς ἅπαν ὧδε ἔχει. ἢ ταὐτόν ἐστιν ἢ ἕτερον· ἢ ἐὰν μὴ
ταὐτὸν ᾖ μηδ᾿ ἕτερον, μέρος ἂν εἴη τούτου πρὸς ὃ οὕτως ἔχει, ἢ ὡς
πρὸς μέρος ὅλον ἂν εἴη.”
“ ἆρ᾿ οὖν τὸ ἓν αὐτὸ αὑτοῦ μέρος ἐστίν; ”
“ οὐδ᾿ ἄρα ὡς πρὸς μέρος αὐτὸ αὑτοῦ ὅλον ἂν εἴη, πρὸς ἑαυτὸ μέρος ὄν.”
“ οὐ γὰρ οἷόν τε.”
“ ἀλλ᾿ ἆρα ἕτερόν ἐστιν ἑνὸς τὸ ἕν; ”
c “ οὐ δῆτα.”
“ οὐδ᾿ ἄρα ἑαυτοῦ γε ἕτερον ἂν εἴη.”
“ οὐ μέντοι.”
“ εἰ οὖν μήτε ἕτερον μήθ᾿ ὅλον μήτε μέρος αὐτὸ πρὸς ἑαυτό ἐστιν, οὐκ
ἀνάγκη ἤδη ταὐτὸν εἶναι αὐτὸ ἑαυτῷ; ”
“ τί δέ; τὸ ἑτέρωθι ὂν αὐτὸ ἑαυτοῦ ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ ὄντος ἑαυτῷ οὐκ ἀνάγκη
αὐτὸ ἑαυτοῦ ἕτερον εἶναι, εἴπερ καὶ ἑτέρωθι ἔσται; ”
“ ἔμοιγε δοκεῖ.”
“ οὕτω μὴν ἐφάνη ἔχον τὸ ἕν, αὐτό τε ἐν ἑαυτῷ ὂν ἅμα καὶ ἐν ἑτέρῳ.”
“ ἐφάνη γάρ.”
“ ἕτερον ἄρα, ὡς ἔοικεν, εἴη ταύτῃ ἂν ἑαυτοῦ τὸ ἕν.”
d “ ἔοικεν.”
“ τί οὖν; εἴ τού τι85 ἕτερόν ἐστιν, οὐχ ἑτέρου ὄντος ἕτερον ἔσται; ”
“ Οὐκοῦν ὅσα μὴ ἕν ἐστιν, ἅπανθ᾿ ἕτερα τοῦ ἑνός, καὶ τὸ ἓν τῶν
μὴ ἕν; ”
“ ἕτερον ἄρα ἂν εἴη τὸ ἓν τῶν ἄλλων.”
“ ἕτερον.”
85 εἴ τού τι G: εἰ του τὶ BT.

SAME/DIFFERENT
“Furthermore, if indeed it has suffered the aforesaid [qualifications] it
must be the same as itself and different from itself, and, likewise, the b
same as the others and different from the others.”
— “How so?”
“Everything is somehow related to everything in this manner: either
it is the same or different; or, if it is neither the same nor different, it
would be related as part is to whole, or as whole is to part.”
“So is the one itself part of itself?”
— “In no way.”
“Then neither would it be a whole itself in relation to a part of itself;
if it were, it would be a part in relation to itself.”
— “No, this is impossible.“
“But then is the one different from one?”
— “Certainly not.” c
“Then it could not be different from itself.”
“So if it is neither different nor whole nor part in relation to itself, must
it then not be the same as itself?”
“What about the following? Must not what is in a different place from
itself, and also in the same place, namely in itself, be different from
itself, if it is to be in a different place?”
— “It seems so to me.”
“So the one was shown to be such as this, since it is, at the same time,
both in itself and in another?”
“In this way the one, as it seems, would be different from itself.”
— “So it seems.” d
“Well then, if something is different from something else, will it not
be different from what is different from it?”
“Then are not the things that are ‘not-one’ all different from the one,
and the one different from the things ‘not-one’?”
“So the one would be different from the others.”
— “Yes.”
“ ὅρα δή· αὐτό τε ταὐτὸν καὶ τὸ ἕτερον ἆρ᾿ οὐκ ἐναντία ἀλλήλοις; ”
“ ἦ οὖν ἐθελήσει ταὐτὸν ἐν τῷ ἑτέρῳ ἢ τὸ ἕτερον ἐν ταὐτῷ ποτὲ εἶναι; ”
“ οὐκ ἐθελήσει.”
e “ εἰ ἄρα τὸ ἕτερον ἐν ταὐτῷ μηδέποτε ἔσται, οὐδὲν ἔστι τῶν ὄντων ἐν
ᾧ ἐστὶν τὸ ἕτερον χρόνον οὐδένα. εἰ γὰρ ὁντινοῦν εἴη ἔν τῳ, ἐκεῖνον
ἂν τὸν χρόνον ἐν ταὐτῷ εἴη τὸ ἕτερον. οὐχ οὕτως; ”
“ οὕτως.”
“ ἐπειδὴ δ᾿ οὐδέποτε ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ ἐστιν, οὐδέποτε ἔν τινι τῶν ὄντων ἂν
εἴη τὸ ἕτερον.”
“ οὔτ᾿ ἄρα ἐν τοῖς μὴ ἓν οὔτε ἐν τῷ ἑνὶ ἐνείη86 ἂν τὸ ἕτερον.”
“ οὐκ ἄρα τῷ ἑτέρῳ γ᾿ ἂν εἴη τὸ ἓν τῶν μὴ ἓν οὐδὲ τὰ μὴ ἓν τοῦ ἑνὸς
ἕτερα.”
147 “ οὐδὲ μὴν ἑαυτοῖς γε ἕτερ᾿ ἂν εἴη ἀλλήλων, μὴ μετέχοντα τοῦ ἑτέρου.”
“ εἰ δὲ μήτε αὑτοῖς ἕτερά ἐστι μήτε τῷ ἑτέρῳ, οὐ πάντῃ ἤδη ἂν
ἐκφεύγοι τὸ μὴ ἕτερα εἶναι ἀλλήλων; ”
“ ἐκφεύγοι.”
“ ἀλλὰ μὴν οὐδὲ τοῦ ἑνός γε μετέχει τὰ μὴ ἕν· οὐ γὰρ ἂν μὴ ἓν ἦν,
ἀλλά πῃ ἂν ἓν ἦν.”
“ οὐδ᾿ ἂν ἀριθμὸς ε η ἄρα τὰ μὴ ἕν· οὐδὲ γὰρ ἂν οὕτω μὴ ἓν ἦν
παντάπασιν, ἀριθμόν γε ἔχοντα.”
“ τί δέ; τὰ μὴ ἓν τοῦ ἑνὸς ἆρα μόριά ἐστιν; ἢ κἂν οὕτω μετεῖχε τοῦ
ἑνὸς τὰ μὴ ἕν; ”
“ μετεῖχεν.”
86 ἐνείη] ἐν εἴη B: εἴη T.

“Consider this: are not ‘the same’ itself and ‘the different’ opposites
of each other?”
“Then will ‘the same’ ever be willing to be in ‘the different’, or ‘the
different’ in ‘the same’?”
— “It will not.”
“So if ‘the different’ is never to be in ‘the same’, then ‘the different’ is
in none of the ‘things that are’ at any time, for if it were in anything e
for any time whatsoever, then for that time ‘the different’ would be in
the same. Isn’t it so?”
— “It is so.”
“But since it is never in ‘the same’, ‘the different’ would never be in
any one among the ‘things that are’.”
— “True.”
“So ‘the different’ would neither be in the things ‘not-one’, nor in the
one.”
— “No, it would not.”
“Thus, judged against ‘the different’, the one would neither be different
from the things ‘not-one’, nor would the things ‘not-one’ be different
from the one.”
— “No.”
“Nor would they be different from each other by themselves, if they 147
do not partake of ‘what is different’.”
— “Obviously not.”
“But if they are not different by themselves, nor by ‘what is different’,
wouldn’t they then completely avoid being different from each other?”
— “They would.”
“But neither do the things ‘not-one’ partake of the one, for then they
would not be ‘not-one’, but in some way one.”
— “True.”
“So neither could the things ‘not-one’ be a number, for if they had a
number they would thus not at all be ‘not-one’.”
“What about this: are the things ‘not-one’ parts of the one? Or would
they partake of the one in this way?”
— “They would.”
b “ εἰ ἄρα πάντῃ τὸ μὲν ἕν ἐστι, τὰ δὲ μὴ ἕν, οὔτ᾿ ἂν μόριον τῶν μὴ ἓν

τὸ ἓν εἴη οὔτε ὅλον ὡς μορίων·87 οὔτε αὖ τὰ μὴ ἓν τοῦ ἑνὸς μόρια, οὔτε
ὅλα ὡς μορίῳ τῷ ἑνί.”
“ ἀλλὰ μὴν ἔφαμεν τὰ μήτε μόρια μήτε ὅλα μήτε ἕτερα ἀλλήλων ταὐτὰ
ἔσεσθαι ἀλλήλοις.”
“ ἔφαμεν γάρ.”
“ φῶμεν ἄρα καὶ τὸ ἓν πρὸς τὰ μὴ ἓν οὕτως ἔχον τὸ αὐτὸ εἶναι αὐτοῖς; ”
“ φῶμεν.”
“ τὸ ἓν ἀρα, ὡς ἔοικεν, ἕτερόν τε τῶν ἄλλων ἐστὶν καὶ ἑαυτοῦ καὶ
ταὐτὸν ἐκείνοις τε καὶ ἑαυτῷ.”
c “ κινδυνεύει φαίνεσθαι ἐκ γε τοῦ λόγου.”
“ Ἆρ᾿ οὖν καὶ ὅμοιόν τε καὶ ἀνόμοιον ἑαυτῷ τε καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις; ”
“ ἴσως.”
“ ἐπειδὴ γοῦν ἕτερον τῶν ἄλλων ἐφάνη, καὶ τἆλλά που ἕτερ᾿ ἂν ἐκείνου
εἴη.”
“ οὐκοῦν οὕτως ἕτερον τῶν ἄλλων, ὥσπερ καὶ τἆλλα ἐκείνου, καὶ οὔτε
μᾶλλον οὔτε ἧττον; ”
“ τί γὰρ ἄν; ”
“ εἰ ἄρα μήτε μᾶλλον μήτε ἧττον, ὁμοίως.”
“ ναί.”
“ οὐκοῦν ᾗ ἕτερον εἶναι πέπονθεν τῶν ἄλλων καὶ τἆλλα ἐκείνου
d ὡσαύτως, ταύτῃ ταὐτὸν ἂν πεπονθότα εἶεν τό τε ἓν τοῖς ἄλλοις καὶ
τἆλλα τῷ ἑνί.”
“ πῶς λέγεις; ”
“ ὧδε· ἕκαστον τῶν ὀνομάτων οὐκ ἐπί τινι καλεῖς; ”
“ ἔγωγε.”
“ τί οὖν; τὸ αὐτὸ ὄνομα εἴποις ἂν πλεονάκις ἢ ἅπαξ; ”
“ ἔγωγε.”
87 μορίων corr. Ven. 189: μορίου BT.

“So if it is88 one in every way, and they are ‘not-one’ in every way, the b
one would be neither a part of the things ‘not-one’, nor a whole with
them as parts; conversely, the things ‘not-one’ would neither be parts
of the one, nor wholes of which the one would be a part.”
— “No.”
“But we said that things that are neither parts nor wholes nor different
from each other will be the same as each other.”
— “Yes, we said that.”
“So are we to say that the one, related in this way to the things ‘not-
one’, is the same as they are?”
— “Let’s say so.”
“Consequently, the one, as it seems, is both different from the others
and from itself, and the same as the others and as itself.”
— “It appears this way from this account.” c
LIKE/UNLIKE
“Then it is also both like and unlike itself and the others?”
— “Perhaps.”
“At any rate, since it was shown to be different from the others, the
others would somehow also be different from it.”
“So is it different from the others in the same way as the others are
different from it, and neither more nor less?”
“So if neither more nor less, then in a similar way?”
— “Yes.”
“Then insofar as it has been so affected as to be diff erent from the
others, and they, similarly, to be different from it, the one would be
affected in the same way as the others, and they in the same way as it.” d
— “What do you mean?”
“The following: don’t you apply each of the names [you use] to some-
thing in particular?”
— “I do.”
“Would you use the same name more than once or [just] once?”
— “I would.”
88 ‘Exists’: There is an ambiguity here as to whether the sense is predicative or

existential.
“ πότερον οὖν ἐὰν μὲν ἅπαξ εἴπῃς, ἐκεῖνο προσαγορεύεις οὗπέρ ἐστι
τοὔνομα, ἐὰν δὲ πολλάκις, οὐκ ἐκεῖνο; ἢ ἐάντε ἅπαξ ἐάντε πολλάκις
ταὐτὸν ὄνομα φθέγξῃ, πολλὴ ἀνάγκη σε ταὐτὸν καὶ λέγειν ἀεί; ”
“ οὐκοῦν καὶ τὸ ἕτερον ὄνομά ἐστιν ἐπί τινι; ”
e “ ὅταν ἄρα αὐτὸ φθέγγῃ, ἐάντε ἅπαξ ἐάντε πολλάκις, οὐκ ἐπ᾿ ἄλλῳ
οὐδὲ ἄλλο τι ὀνομάζεις ἢ ἐκεῖνο οὗπερ ἦν ὄνομα.”
“ ὅταν δὴ λέγωμεν ὅτι ἕτερον μὲν τἆλλα τοῦ ἑνός, ἕτερον δὲ τὸ ἓν
τῶν ἄλλων, δὶς τὸ ἕτερον εἰπόντες οὐδέν τι μᾶλλον ἐπ᾿ ἄλλῃ, ἀλλ᾿ ἐπ᾿
ἐκείνῃ τῇ φύσει αὐτὸ ἀεὶ λέγομεν, ἧσπερ ἦν τοὔνομα.”
148 “ ᾗ89 ἄρα ἕτερον τῶν ἄλλων τὸ ἓν καὶ τἆλλα τοῦ ἑνός, κατ᾿ αὐτὸ τὸ90
ἕτερον πεπονθέναι οὐκ ἄλλο, ἀλλὰ τὸ αὐτὸ ἂν πεπονθὸς εἴη τὸ ἓν τοῖς
ἄλλοις· τὸ δέ που ταὐτὸν πεπονθὸς ὅμοιον· οὐχί; ”
“ ναί.”
“ ᾗ δὴ τὸ ἓν ἕτερον τῶν ἄλλων πέπονθεν εἶναι, κατ᾿ αὐτὸ τοῦτο ἅπαν
ἅπασιν ὅμοιον ἂν εἴη· ἅπαν γὰρ ἁπάντων ἕτερόν ἐστιν.”
“ Ἀλλὰ μὴν τό γε ὅμοιον τῷ ἀνομοίῳ91 ἐναντίον.”
“ ναί.”
“ οὐκοῦν καὶ τὸ ἕτερον τῷ ταὐτῷ.92”
“ καὶ τοῦτο.”
“ ἀλλὰ μὴν καὶ τοῦτό γ᾿ ἐφάνη, ὡς ἄρα τὸ ἓν τοῖς ἄλλοις ταὐτόν.”
b “ ἐφάνη γάρ.”
“ tοὐναντίον δέ γε πάθος ἐστὶ τὸ εἶναι ταὐτὸν τοῖς ἄλλοις τῷ ἕτερον
εἶναι τῶν ἄλλων.”
“ ᾗ γε μὴν ἕτερον, ὅμοιον ἐφάνη.”
“ ναί.”
89 ᾗ] ἢ B: ἦ T: εἰ vulg.
90 κατ᾿ αὐτὸ τὸ Thomson: κατὰ ταυτὸ BT.
91 τῷ ἀνομοίῳ] τῷ ὸμοίῳ B: τῶν ἀνομοίων T.
92 ταὐτῷ in marg. T: αὐτῷ BT.
“Then if you use it once, would you be speaking of the thing of which
it is the name, but if you use it many times, would you not be speaking
of it? Or rather, isn’t it necessary, regardless of whether you use the
same name once or many times, to always speak of the same thing?”
— “To be sure.”
“Then isn’t ‘the different’ a name for something in particular?”
“So when you pronounce it, whether once or many times, you do not e
apply it to some other thing, nor name something other than that thing
of which it is the name.”
“When we say ‘the others are different from the one’ and ‘the one is
different from the others’, though we say ‘different’ twice, we do not
apply it instead to some other nature, but always to that nature whose
name it is.”
“So, insofar as the one is different from the others, and the others 148
from the one, with regard to being so affected as to be different, the
one would be affected in such a way as to be not other than the others
but the same as them. And that which is affected in the same way is
presumably alike, is it not?”
— “Yes.”
“So insofar as the one is so affected as to be different from the others,
in that respect it would be entirely like them all, because it is entirely
different from them all.”
“Yet, on the other hand, ‘the like’ is opposite to ‘the unlike’.”
— “Yes.”
“So also ‘the different’ to ‘the same’.”
— “That also.”
“But this too was shown: that the one is the same as the others.”
— “Yes, it was.” b
“But being the same as the others is the opposite qualification to being
different from the others.”
“Insofar as the one is different, it was shown to be like.”
— “Yes.”
“ ᾗ ἄρα ταὐτόν, ἀνόμοιον ἔσται κατὰ τοὐναντίον πάθος τῷ ὁμοιοῦντι

πάθει. ὡμοίου δέ που τὸ ἕτερον; ”
“ ναί.”
“ ἀνομοιώσει ἄρα τὸ ταὐτόν, ἢ οὐκ ἐναντίον ἔσται τῷ ἑτέρῳ.”
c “ ἔοικεν.”
“ ὅμοιον ἄρα καὶ ἀνόμοιον ἔσται τὸ ἓν τοῖς ἄλλοις, ᾗ μὲν ἕτερον,
ὅμοιον, ᾗ δὲ ταὐτόν, ἀνόμοιον.”
“ ἔχει γὰρ οὖν δή, ὡς ἔοικεν, καὶ τοιοῦτον λόγον.”
“ καὶ γὰρ τόνδε ἔχει.”
“ τίνα; ”
“ ᾗ ταὐτὸν πέπονθε, μὴ ἀλλοῖον πεπονθέναι, μὴ ἀλλοῖον δὲ πεπονθὸς
μὴ ἀνόμοιον, μὴ ἀνόμοιον δὲ ὅμοιον εἶναι· ᾗ δ᾿ ἄλλο πέπονθεν, ἀλλοῖον,
ἀλλοῖον δὲ ὂν ἀνόμοιον εἶναι.”
“ ἀληθῆ λέγεις.”
“ ταὐτόν τε ἄρα ὂν τὸ ἓν τοῖς ἄλλοις καὶ ὅτι ἕτερόν ἐστι, κατ᾿
d ἀμφότερα καὶ καθ᾿ ἑκάτερον, ὅμοιόν τε ἂν εἴη καὶ ἀνόμοιον τοῖς
ἄλλοις.”
“ οὐκοῦν καὶ ἑαυτῷ ὡσαύτως, ἐπείπερ ἕτερόν τε ἑαυτοῦ καὶ ταὐτὸν
ἑαυτῷ ἐφάνη, κατ᾿ ἀμφότερα καὶ κατὰ ἑκάτερον ὅμοιόν τε καὶ
ἀνόμοιον φανήσεται; ”
“ Τί δὲ δή; περὶ τοῦ ἅπτεσθαι τὸ ἓν αὑτοῦ καὶ τῶν ἄλλων καὶ τοῦ
μὴ ἅπτεσθαι πέρι πῶς ἔχει, σκόπει.”
“ σκοπῶ.”
“ αὐτὸ γάρ που ἐν ἑαυτῷ ὅλῳ τὸ ἓν ἐφάνη ὄν.”
“ οὐκοῦν καὶ ἐν τοῖς ἄλλοις τὸ ἕν; ”
“ ναί.”
“So insofar as it is the same, it will be unlike, according to the opposite

qualification to the qualification that makes it like. So somehow ‘the
different’ made it like?”
— “Yes.”
“So ‘the same’ will make it unlike; otherwise, it will not be opposite
to ‘the different’.”
— “So it seems.” c
“Consequently, the one will be like and unlike the others—insofar as
it is different, [it is] like, and insofar as it is the same, unlike.”
— “Yes, it does indeed seem to admit of this sort of account.”
“And also of this one.”
— “Which one?”
“Insofar as it has been so affected as to be ‘the same’, it has been affected
so as to be ‘not of another kind’; and if it has been affected as being
‘not of another kind’, it is ‘not unlike’; and if ‘not unlike’, it is ‘like’. But
insofar as it has been so affected as to be ‘other’, it has been affected so
as to be ‘of another kind’; and if it is of ‘another kind’, it is ‘unlike’.”
— “You speak the truth.”
“Thus, since the one is the same as the others, and [also] different,
in both ways and in either way, it would be both like and unlike the
others.”
— “Of course.” d
“And it will be so, in exactly the same way, in regard to itself: since it
was shown to be both different from itself and the same as itself, in
both ways and in either [way], won’t it be shown to be both like and
unlike itself?”
IN CONTACT/NOT IN CONTACT
“And what about this? Consider the question whether the one is in
contact and not in contact with itself and with the others.”
— “Very well.”
“For the one was shown to be somehow in itself as a whole.”
“Isn’t the one also in the others?”
— “Yes.”
e “ ᾗ μὲν ἄρα ἐν τοῖς ἄλλοις, τῶν ἄλλων ἅπτοιτο ἄν· ᾗ δὲ αὐτὸ ἐν ἑαυτῷ,
τῶν μὲν ἄλλων ἀπείργοιτο ἅπτεσθαι, αὐτὸ δὲ αὑτοῦ ἅπτοιτο ἂν ἐν
ἑαυτῷ ὄν.”
“ οὕτω μὲν δὴ ἅπτοιτο ἂν τὸ ἓν αὑτοῦ τε καὶ τῶν ἄλλων.”
“ ἅπτοιτο.”
“ τί δὲ τῇδε; ἆρ᾿ οὐ πᾶν τὸ μέλλον ἅψεσθαί τινος ἐφεξῆς δεῖ κεῖσθαι
ἐκείνῳ οὗ μέλλει ἅπτεσθαι, ταύτην τὴν ἕδραν κατέχον ἣ ἂν μετ᾿
ἐκείνην ᾖ93 ᾗ94 ἂν κέηται, ἅπτεται; ”
“ καὶ τὸ ἓν ἄρα εἰ μέλλει αὐτὸ αὑτοῦ ἅψεσθαι, ἐφεξῆς δεῖ εὐθὺς μεθ᾿
ἑαυτὸ κεῖσθαι, τὴν ἐχομένην χώραν κατέχον ἐκείνης ἐν95 ᾗ αὐτό ἐστιν.”
“ δεῖ γὰρ οὖν.”
149 “ οὐκοῦν δύο μὲν ὂν τὸ ἓν ποιήσειεν ἂν ταῦτα καὶ ἐν δυοῖν χώραιν ἅμα
γένοιτο· ἕως δ᾿ ἂν ᾖ ἕν, οὐκ ἐθελήσει; ”
“ oὐ γὰρ οὖν.”
“ ἡ αὐτὴ ἄρα ἀνάγκη τῷ ἑνὶ μήτε δύο εἶναι μήτε ἅπτεσθαι αὐτῷ
αὑτοῦ.”
“ ἡ αὐτή.”
“ ἀλλ᾿ οὐδὲ μὴν τῶν ἄλλων ἅψεται.”
“ τί δή; ”
“ ὅτι, φαμέν, τὸ μέλλον ἅψεσθαι χωρὶς ὂν ἐφεξῆς δεῖ ἐκείνῳ εἶναι οὗ
μέλλει ἅψεσθαι, τρίτον δὲ αὐτῶν ἐν μέσῳ μηδὲν εἶναι.”
“ δύο ἄρα δεῖ τὸ ὀλίγιστον εἶναι, εἰ μέλλει ἅψις εἶναι.”
b “ δεῖ.”
“ ἐὰν δὲ τοῖν δυοῖν ὅροιν τρίτον προσγένηται ἑξῆς, αὐτὰ μὲν τρία
ἔσται, αἱ δὲ ἅψεις δύο.”
“ ναί.”
93 ᾖ ἕδρα BT: ἕδρα om. Bekker: ἕδραν Heindorf.

94 B: ῃ T.
95 ἐν T: om. B.
“Then insofar as it is in the others, it would be in contact with the

others, but insofar as it is in itself, it would be prevented from being e
in contact with the others, and, being in itself, would be in contact
with itself.”
“Thus the one would be in contact with itself and with the others.”
— “It would.”
“What about this: must not everything that is to contact something
lie adjacent to that which it is to contact, occupying the place that lies
next to what it contacts?”
“And so the one, if it is to contact itself, must lie directly adjacent to
itself, occupying the place contiguous to that in which it itself is.”
— “Yes, it must.”
“Now, if the one were two it would do that and it would come to be in 149
two places simultaneously, but as long as it is one, it will not?”
“So by the same necessity the one can neither be two nor be in contact
with itself.”
— “Yes, by the same.”
“But neither will it be in contact with the others.”
— “Why?”
“Because, as we said, what is to contact [something] must, while being
separate, be next to what it is to contact, and there must be no third
thing between them.”
— “True.”
“So there must be at least two things if there is to be contact.”
— “There must.”
“But if to the two terms a third is added in succession, they will be b
three, yet their [points of] contact will be two.”
— “Yes.”
“ καὶ οὕτω δὴ ἀεὶ ἑνὸς προσγιγνομένου μία καὶ ἅψις προσγίγνεται,

καὶ συμβαίνει τὰς ἅψεις τοῦ πλήθους τῶν ἀριθμῶν μιᾷ ἐλάττους
εἶναι. ᾧ γὰρ τὰ πρῶτα δύο ἐπλεονέκτησε τῶν ἅψεων εἰς τὸ πλείω
εἶναι τὸν ἀριθμὸν ἢ τὰς ἅψεις, τῷ ἴσῳ τούτῳ καὶ ὁ ἔπειτα ἀριθμὸς
c πᾶς πασῶν τῶν ἅψεων πλεονεκτεῖ. ἤδη γὰρ τὸ λοιπὸν ἅμα ἕν τε τῷ
ἀριθμῷ προσγίγνεται καὶ μία ἅψις ταῖς ἅψεσιν.”
“ ὅσα ἄρα ἐστὶν τὰ ὄντα τὸν ἀριθμόν, ἀεὶ μιᾷ αἱ ἅψεις ἐλάττους εἰσὶν
αὐτῶν.”
“ εἰ δέ γε ἓν μόνον ἐστί, δυὰς δὲ μὴ ἔστιν, ἅψις οὐκ ἂν εἴη.”
“ οὔκουν, φαμέν, τὰ ἄλλα τοῦ ἑνὸς οὔτε ἕν ἐστιν οὔτε μετέχει αὐτοῦ,
εἴπερ ἄλλα ἐστίν.”
“ οὐκ ἄρα ἔνεστιν96 ἀριθμὸς ἐν τοῖς ἄλλοις, ἑνὸς μὴ ἐνόντος97 ἐν
αὐτοῖς.”
d “ πῶς γάρ; ”
“ οὔτ᾿ ἄρα ἕν ἐστι τὰ ἄλλα οὔτε δύο οὔτε ἄλλου ἀριθμοῦ ἔχοντα ὄνομα
οὐδέν.”
“ oὔ.”
“ τὸ ἓν ἄρα μόνον ἐστὶν ἕν, καὶ δυὰς οὐκ ἂν εἴη.”
“ ἅψις ἄρα οὐκ ἔστι δυοῖν μὴ ὄντοιν.”
“ οὔτ᾿ ἄρα τὸ ἓν τῶν ἄλλων ἅπτεται οὔτε τὰ ἄλλα τοῦ ἑνός, ἐπείπερ
ἅψις οὐκ ἔστιν.”
“ οὕτω δὴ κατὰ πάντα ταῦτα τὸ ἓν τῶν τε ἄλλων καὶ ἑαυτοῦ ἅπτεταί
τε καὶ οὐχ ἅπτεται.”
“ Ἆρ᾿ οὖν καὶ ἴσον ἐστὶ καὶ ἄνισον αὑτῷ τε καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις; ”
“πῶς; ”
96 ἔνεστιν b: ἕν ἐστιν BT.

97 ἐνόντος b: ἓν ὄντος B: ὄντος T.
“Thus always when one is added, one [point of] contact is added as
well, and it follows that the [points of] contact are always fewer by
one than the multitude of the units. For every succeeding number of
terms exceeds the number of contacts by just as much as the first two
terms exceeded the number of contacts. So thereafter, at the same time c
both a one is added to the number and one [point of] contact is added
to the contacts.”
“So however many the things are in number, the contacts are always
fewer than they are by one.”
— “True.”
“But if there is only one, and not two, there would be no contact.”
— “How could there be?”
“So let us say that the things other than one neither are one nor do
they partake of it, if indeed they are other.”
— “No, indeed.”
“So number is not contained in the others, since one is not in them.”98
“So the others are neither one nor two, nor do they have the name of d
any other number.”
— “No.”
“So the one alone is one, and it would not be a pair.”
“So there is no [point of] contact, since there is no duality.”
— “There is not.”
“Therefore, the one is not in contact with the others, nor the others
with the one, since in fact there is no contact.”
— “No, certainly not.”
“So according to all of this, the one is both in contact and not in con-
tact, both with the others and with itself.”
EQUAL/UNEQUAL—LARGENESS/SMALLNESS
“Is it then both equal and unequal to itself and to the others?”
— “How so?”
98 Again, the lesson enestin instead of hen estin was chosen.

e “ εἰ μεῖζον εἴη τὸ ἓν ἢ τἆλλα ἢ ἔλαττον, ἢ αὖ τἆλλα τοῦ ἑνὸς μείζω ἢ

ἐλάττω, ἆρα οὐκ ἂν τῷ μὲν ἓν εἶναι τὸ ἓν καὶ τὰ ἄλλα ἄλλα τοῦ ἑνὸς
οὔτε τι μείζω οὔτε τι ἐλάττω ἂν εἴη ἀλλήλων αὐταῖς γε ταύταις ταῖς
οὐσίαις· ἀλλ᾿ εἰ μὲν πρὸς τῷ τοιαῦτα εἶναι ἑκάτερα ἰσότητα ἔχοιεν,
ἴσα ἂν εἴη πρὸς ἄλληλα· εἰ δὲ τὰ μὲν μέγεθος, τὸ99 δὲ σμικρότητα, ἢ
καὶ μέγεθος μὲν τὸ ἕν, σμικρότητα δὲ τἆλλα, ὁποτέρῳ μὲν τῷ εἴδει
μέγεθος προσείη, μεῖζον ἂν εἴη, ᾧ δὲ σμικρότης, ἔλαττον; ”
“ οὐκοῦν ἐστόν γέ100 τινε τούτω εἴδη, τό τε μέγεθος καὶ ἡ σμικρότης;
οὐ γὰρ ἄν που μὴ ὄντε γε ἐναντίω τε ἀλλήλοιν εἴτην καὶ ἐν τοῖς οὖσιν
ἐγγιγνοίσθην.”
150 “ πῶς γὰρ ἄν; ”
“ εἰ ἄρα ἐν τῷ ἑνὶ σμικρότης ἐγγίγνεται, ἤτοι ἐν ὅλῳ ἂν ἢ ἐν μέρει
αὐτοῦ ἐνείη.”
“ τί δ᾿ εἰ ἐν ὅλῳ ἐγγίγνοιτο; οὐχὶ ἢ ἐξ ἴσου ἂν τῷ ἑνὶ δι᾿ ὅλου αὐτοῦ
τεταμένη εἴη ἢ περιέχουσα αὐτό; ”
“ δῆλον δή.”
“ ἆρ᾿ οὖν οὐκ ἐξ ἴσου μὲν οὖσα ἡ σμικρότης τῷ ἑνὶ ἴση ἂν αὐτῷ εἴη,
περιέχουσα δὲ μείζων; ”
“ δυνατὸν οὖν σμικρότητα ἴσην τῳ εἶναι ἢ μείζω τινός, καὶ πράττειν
b γε τὰ μεγέθους τε καὶ ἰσότητος, ἀλλὰ μὴ τὰ ἑαυτῆς; ”
“ ἐν μὲν ὅλῳ ἄρα τῷ ἑνὶ οὐκ ἂν εἴη σμικρότης, ἀλλ᾿ εἴπερ, ἐν μέρει.”
“ ναί.”
“ οὐδέ101 γε ἐν παντὶ αὖ τῷ μέρει· εἰ δὲ μή, ταὐτὰ ποιήσει ἅπερ πρὸς
τὸ ὅλον· ἴση ἔσται ἢ μείζων τοῦ μέρους ἐν ᾧ ἂν ἀεὶ ἐνῇ.”
“ οὐδενί ποτε ἄρα ἐνέσται τῶν ὄντων σμικρότης, μήτ᾿ ἐν μέρει μήτ᾿
ἐν ὅλῳ ἐγγιγνομένη· οὐδέ τι ἔσται σμικρὸν πλὴν αὐτῆς σμικρότητος.”
99 τὸ Par. 1810: τὰ BT.

100 γέ al.: τέ BT.
101 οὐδέ G. Hermann: οὔτε B: οὔτι T.
“If the one were larger or smaller than the others, or the others in turn e
larger or smaller than the one, then surely the one by being one, and
the others by being other than the one, would be neither larger nor
smaller than each other, by virtue of their own being? But if both of
them, in addition to their being of this sort, [also] possessed equality,
they would be equal to each other. And, if the others had largeness and
the one had smallness, or, if the others had smallness and the one had
largeness, whichever Form had largeness added to it would be larger,
and whichever had smallness added to it would be smaller?”
“So then there are these two Forms, largeness and smallness? For if
somehow they were not two, they would not be opposite to each other,
and would not come to be in the ‘things that are’.”
— “No. How could they?” 150
“So, if smallness comes to be in the one, it would be either in the whole
of it or in part of it.”
“What if it were to come to be in the whole? Would it not be in the
one either by being extended equally throughout the whole of it, or
by containing it?”
— “Clearly.”
“And if smallness were present equally throughout the one, wouldn’t
it be equal to it, but if it contained the one, be larger?”
“So can smallness be equal to something or larger than something,
and perform the tasks that belong to largeness and equality, but not b
[the tasks] that belong to itself?”
“So smallness could not be in the one as a whole, but if indeed it is in
the one, it would be in a part of it.”
— “Yes.”
“But, again, not in all that part. Otherwise, it will do the same [tasks]
as it did in regard to the whole: in each case it will be equal to or larger
than the part it is.”
“Therefore, smallness will never be in any of the things that are, nei-
ther coming to be in a part nor in a whole. Nor will anything be small
except smallness itself.”
c “ οὐδ᾿ ἄρα μέγεθος ἐνέσται ἐν αὐτῷ· μεῖζον γὰρ ἄν τι εἴη ἄλλο

καὶ πλὴν αὐτοῦ μεγέθους, ἐκεῖνο ἐν ᾧ τὸ μέγεθος ἐνείη, καὶ ταῦτα
σμικροῦ αὐτῷ οὐκ ὄντος, οὗ ἀνάγκη ὑπερέχειν, ἐάνπερ ᾖ μέγα· τοῦτο
δὲ ἀδύνατον, ἐπειδὴ σμικρότης οὐδαμοῦ ἔνι.”
“ ἀλλὰ μὴν αὐτὸ μέγεθος οὐκ ἄλλου μεῖζον ἢ αὐτῆς σμικρότητος,
οὐδὲ σμικρότης ἄλλου ἔλαττον ἢ αὐτοῦ μεγέθους.”
“ οὔτε ἄρα τὰ ἄλλα μείζω τοῦ ἑνὸς οὐδὲ ἐλάττω, μήτε μέγεθος μήτε
d σμικρότητα ἔχοντα, οὔτε αὐτὼ τούτω πρὸς τὸ ἓν ἔχετον τὴν δύναμιν
τὴν τοῦ ὑπερέχειν καὶ ὑπερέχεσθαι, ἀλλὰ πρὸς ἀλλήλω, οὔτε αὖ τὸ
ἓν τούτοιν οὐδὲ τῶν ἄλλων μεῖζον ἂν οὐδ᾿ ἔλαττον εἴη, μήτε μέγεθος
μήτε σμικρότητα ἔχον.”
“ οὔκουν φαίνεταί γε.”
“ ἆρ᾿ οὖν, εἰ μήτε μεῖζον μήτε ἔλαττον τὸ ἓν τῶν ἄλλων, ἀνάγκη αὐτὸ
ἐκείνων μήτε ὑπερέχειν μήτε ὑπερέχεσθαι; ”
“ οὐκοῦν τό γε μήτε ὑπερέχον μήτε ὑπερεχόμενον πολλὴ ἀνάγκη ἐξ
ἴσου εἶναι, ἐξ ἴσου δὲ ὂν ἴσον εἶναι.”
e “ πῶς γὰρ οὔ; ”
“ καὶ μὴν καὶ αὐτό γε τὸ ἓν πρὸς ἑαυτὸ οὕτως ἂν ἔχοι· μήτε μέγεθος
ἐν ἑαυτῷ μήτε σμικρότητα ἔχον οὔτ᾿ ἂν ὑπερέχοιτο οὔτ᾿ ἂν ὑπερέχοι
ἑαυτοῦ, ἀλλ᾿ ἐξ ἴσου ὂν ἴσον ἂν εἴη ἑαυτῷ.”
“ τὸ ἓν ἄρα ἑαυτῷ τε καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις ἴσον ἂν εἴη.”
“ καὶ μὴν αὐτό γε ἐν ἑαυτῷ ὂν καὶ περὶ ἑαυτὸ ἂν εἴη ἔξωθεν, καὶ
151 περιέχον μὲν μεῖζον ἂν ἑαυτοῦ εἴη, περιεχόμενον δὲ ἔλαττον, καὶ οὕτω
μεῖζον ἂν καὶ ἔλαττον εἴη αὐτὸ ἑαυτοῦ τὸ ἕν.”
“ εἴη γὰρ ἄν.”
“ οὐκοῦν καὶ τόδε ἀνάγκη, μηδὲν εἶναι ἐκτὸς τοῦ ἑνός τε καὶ τῶν
ἄλλων; ”
“So largeness will not be in it either. For if it were, there would be some c
other thing [besides largeness itself], namely, that in which largeness
is—and this without smallness being present in it too [i.e., in the
one], which largeness must exceed if indeed it is to be large. But this
is impossible, since smallness is not present in anything.”
— “True.”
“But largeness itself is not larger than anything other than smallness
itself, nor is smallness smaller than anything other than largeness itself.”
— “No, they are not.”
“So the others are neither larger nor smaller than the one, since they
have neither largeness nor smallness. Nor do these two themselves [i.e., d
largeness and smallness] have the capacity of either exceeding or being
exceeded in relation to the one, but [only] in relation to each other.
Nor, again, could the one be larger or smaller than the others, since it
has neither largeness nor smallness.”
— “No, evidently not.”
“So if the one is neither larger nor smaller than the others, it must
neither exceed them nor be exceeded by them?”
“Now, what neither exceeds nor is exceeded must by necessity be even,
and since it is even throughout, it is equal.”
— “Certainly.” e
“And the one would also be so in relation to itself: having neither large-
ness nor smallness in itself, it would neither exceed itself, nor be exceeded
by itself, but being equal throughout, it would be equal to itself.”
“Therefore the one would be equal to itself and to the others.”
“However, the one, being in itself, would also be around itself on the
outside; and containing itself, it would be larger than itself; yet being 151
contained, it would be smaller; and thus it would be both larger and
smaller that itself.”
— “Yes, it would be.”
“And isn’t this also necessary: that there be nothing outside the one
and the others?”
— “No doubt.”
“ ἀλλὰ μὴν καὶ εἶναί που δεῖ τό γε ὂν ἀεί.”

“ ναί.”
“ οὐκοῦν τό γε ἔν τῳ ὂν ἐν μείζονι ἔσται ἔλαττον ὄν; οὐ γὰρ ἂν ἄλλως
ἕτερον ἐν ἑτέρῳ εἴη.”
“ ἐπειδὴ δὲ οὐδὲν ἕτερον ἔστι χωρὶς τῶν ἄλλων καὶ τοῦ ἑνός, δεῖ δὲ
αὐτὰ ἔν τῳ εἶναι, οὐκ ἀνάγκη ἤδη ἐν ἀλλήλοις εἶναι, τά τε ἄλλα ἐν τῷ
b ἑνὶ καὶ τὸ ἓν ἐν τοῖς ἄλλοις, ἢ μηδαμοῦ εἶναι; ”
“ ὅτι μὲν ἄρα τὸ ἓν ἐν τοῖς ἄλλοις ἔνεστι, μείζω ἂν εἴη τὰ ἄλλα τοῦ
ἑνός, περιέχοντα αὐτό, τὸ δὲ ἓν ἔλαττον τῶν ἄλλων, περιεχόμενον· ὅτι
δὲ τὰ ἄλλα ἐν τῷ ἑνί, τὸ ἓν τῶν ἄλλων κατὰ τὸν αὐτὸν λόγον μεῖζον
ἂν εἴη, τὰ δὲ ἄλλα τοῦ ἑνὸς ἐλάττω.”
“ τὸ ἓν ἄρα ἴσον τε καὶ μεῖζον καὶ ἔλαττόν ἐστιν αὐτό τε αὑτοῦ καὶ
τῶν ἄλλων.”
“ καὶ μὴν εἴπερ μεῖζον καὶ ἔλαττον καὶ ἴσον, ἴσων ἂν εἴη μέτρων καὶ
c πλειόνων καὶ ἐλαττόνων αὑτῷ καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις, ἐπειδὴ δὲ μέτρων, καὶ
μερῶν.”
“ ἴσων μὲν ἄρα μέτρων ὂν καὶ πλειόνων καὶ ἐλαττόνων, καὶ ἀριθμῷ
ἔλαττον ἂν καὶ πλέον εἴη αὐτό τε αὑτοῦ καὶ τῶν ἄλλων καὶ ἴσον αὑτῷ
τε καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις κατὰ ταὐτά.”
“ πῶς; ”
“ ὧνπερ μεῖζόν ἐστι, πλειόνων που καὶ μέτρων ἂν εἴη αὐτῶν· ὅσων δὲ
μέτρων, καὶ μερῶν· καὶ ὧν ἔλαττον, ὡσαύτως· καὶ οἷς ἴσον, κατὰ ταὐτά.”
“ οὕτως.”
d “ οὐκοῦν ἑαυτοῦ μεῖζον καὶ ἔλαττον ὂν καὶ ἴσον ἴσων ἂν εἴη μέτρων
καὶ πλειόνων καὶ ἐλαττόνων αὑτῷ, ἐπειδὴ δὲ μέτρων, καὶ μερῶν; ”
“But surely what is must always be somewhere.”102

— “Yes.”
“Then won’t that which is in something be in something larger [than
itself], since it is smaller? Otherwise, one thing could not be in another
thing.”
— “No, it could not.”
“Since there is nothing else apart from the others and the one, and
since they must be in something, must they not forthwith be in each
other—the others in the one and the one in the others—or else be
nowhere at all?”
— “Apparently.” b
“So because the one is in the others, the others would be larger than
the one, since they contain it, and the one would be smaller than the
others, since it is contained. But because the others are in the one, by
the same account the one would be larger than the others, whereas the
others [would be] smaller than the one.”
“Therefore the one is equal to, and larger and smaller than, both itself
and the others.”
— “Evidently.”
“And if in fact it is larger and smaller and equal, it would be of equal,
and more, and fewer measures than itself and the others, and since of c
measures, also of parts.”
“So since it is of equal and more and fewer measures, it would also be
fewer and more in number than itself and the others, and, in the same
respect, equal to itself and to the others.”
— “How so?”
“It would somehow have more measures than the things it is larger
than—having as many measures as parts—and in like manner, less
than those it is smaller than, and in the same respect, equal to those
it is equal with.”
— “Just so.”
“Then, since it is larger and smaller than and equal to itself, would it
not be of equal and more and fewer measures than itself? And since d
of measures, also of parts?”
102 This claim and the one in the next line are assumed by Cornford to be
restatements of Gorgias’ arguments in Aristotle, MXG 979b22 (Plato and
Parmenides, 148–149).
“ ἴσων μὲν ἄρα μερῶν ὂν αὑτῷ ἴσον ἂν τὸ πλῆθος αὑτῷ εἴη, πλειόνων
δὲ πλέον, ἐλαττόνων δὲ ἔλαττον τὸν ἀριθμὸν αὑτοῦ.”
“ οὐκοῦν καὶ πρὸς τἆλλα ὡσαύτως ἕξει τὸ ἕν; ὅτι μὲν μεῖζον αὐτῶν
φαίνεται, ἀνάγκη πλέον εἶναι καὶ τὸν ἀριθμὸν αὐτῶν· ὅτι δὲ
σμικρότερον, ἔλαττον· ὅτι δὲ ἴσον μεγέθει, ἴσον καὶ τὸ πλῆθος εἶναι
τοῖς ἄλλοις; ”
e “ οὕτω δὴ αὖ, ὡς ἔοικε, τὸ ἓν καὶ ἴσον καὶ πλέον καὶ ἔλαττον τὸν
ἀριθμὸν αὐτό τε αὑτοῦ ἔσται καὶ τῶν ἄλλων.”
“ ἔσται.”
“ Ἆρ᾿ οὖν καὶ χρόνου μετέχει τὸ ἕν, καὶ ἐστί τε καὶ γίγνεται
νεώτερόν τε καὶ πρεσβύτερον αὐτό τε ἑαυτοῦ καὶ τῶν ἄλλων, καὶ
οὔτε νεώτερον οὔτε πρεσβύτερον οὔτε ἑαυτοῦ οὔτε τῶν ἄλλων, χρόνου
μετέχον; ”
“ πῶς; ”
“ εἶναι μέν που αὐτῷ ὑπάρχει, εἴπερ ἓν ἔστιν.”
“ ναί.”
152 “ τὸ δὲ εἶναι ἄλλο τί ἐστιν ἢ μέθεξις οὐσίας μετὰ χρόνου τοῦ παρόντος,
ὥσπερ τὸ ἦν μετὰ τοῦ παρεληλυθότος καὶ αὖ τὸ ἔσται μετὰ τοῦ
μέλλοντος οὐσίας ἐστὶ κοινωνία; ”
“ μετέχει μὲν ἄρα χρόνου, εἴπερ καὶ τοῦ εἶναι.”
“ οὐκοῦν πορευομένου τοῦ χρόνου; ”
“ ναί.”
“ ἀεὶ ἄρα πρεσβύτερον γίγνεται ἑαυτοῦ, εἴπερ προέρχεται κατὰ
χρόνον.”
“ ἆρ᾿ οὖν μεμνήμεθα ὅτι νεωτέρου γιγνομένου τὸ πρεσβύτερον
πρεσβύτερον γίγνεται; ”
“ μεμνήμεθα.”
“So being of parts equal to itself, it would be equal to itself in multitude,
and if it consists of more parts, it would be more than itself in number,
and if of fewer, it would be less?”
“Now, will not the one also relate similarly to the others? Because if
it appears larger than they, must it not also be more than they are in
number; and because it appears smaller, fewer; and because it appears
equal in largeness, then also equal to the others in quantity?”
“And so once again, as it seems, the one will be equal, and more, and e
fewer, in number than itself and the others.”
— “It will.”
CODA
TIME—OLDER, YOUNGER, SAME AGE
“So does the one also partake of time? Is it, and does it come to be,
both younger and older than itself and than the others, and neither
younger nor older than either itself or the others, if it partakes of time?”
“If indeed the one is, then ‘to be’ belongs to it in some way.”
— “Yes.”
“But is ‘the to be’ anything else but the partaking of being together
with ‘time present’, just as ‘the was’ is communion with being together 152
with ‘time past’, and, again, ‘the will be’ is communion with being
together with ‘time to come’?”
— “Yes, it is.”
“So it partakes of time, if in fact it also partakes of being.”
“Of time moving forward?”
— “Yes.”
“So it always comes to be older than itself, if indeed it moves forward
in accordance with time.”
“Now, we recall that the older comes to be older than that which comes
to be younger?”
— “We do.”
b “ οὐκοῦν ἐπειδὴ πρεσβύτερον ἑαυτοῦ γίγνεται τὸ ἕν, νεωτέρου ἂν

γιγνομένου ἑαυτοῦ πρεσβύτερον γίγνοιτο; ”
“ γίγνεται μὲν δὴ νεώτερόν τε καὶ πρεσβύτερον αὑτοῦ οὕτως.”
“ ναί.”
“ ἔστι δὲ πρεσβύτερον ἆρ᾿ οὐχ ὅταν κατὰ τὸν νῦν χρόνον ᾖ γιγνόμενον
τὸν μεταξὺ τοῦ ἦν τε καὶ ἔσται; οὐ γάρ που πορευόμενόν γε ἐκ τοῦ
ποτὲ εἰς τὸ ἔπειτα ὑπερβήσεται τὸ νῦν.”
c “ ἆρ᾿ οὖν οὐκ ἐπίσχει τότε τοῦ γίγνεσθαι πρεσβύτερον, ἐπειδὰν
τῷ νῦν ἐντύχῃ καὶ οὐ γίγνεται, ἀλλ᾿ ἔστι τότ᾿ ἤδη πρεσβύτερον;
προϊὸν γὰρ οὐκ ἄν ποτε ληφθείη ὑπὸ τοῦ νῦν. τὸ γὰρ προϊὸν οὕτως
ἔχει ὡς ἀμφοτέρων ἐφάπτεσθαι, τοῦ τε νῦν καὶ τοῦ ἔπειτα, τοῦ μὲν
νῦν ἀφιέμενον, τοῦ δ᾿ ἔπειτα ἐπιλαμβανόμενον, μεταξὺ ἀμφοτέρων
γιγνόμενον, τοῦ τε ἔπειτα καὶ τοῦ νῦν.”
“ εἰ δέ γε ἀνάγκη μὴ παρελθεῖν τὸ νῦν πᾶν τὸ γιγνόμενον, ἐπειδὰν
d κατὰ τοῦτο ᾖ, ἐπίσχει ἀεὶ τοῦ γίγνεσθαι καὶ ἔστι τότε τοῦτο ὅ τι ἂν
τύχῃ γιγνόμενον.”
“ καὶ τὸ ἓν ἄρα, ὅταν πρεσβύτερον γιγνόμενον ἐντύχῃ τῷ νῦν, ἐπέσχεν
τοῦ γίγνεσθαι καὶ ἔστι τότε πρεσβύτερον.”
“ οὐκοῦν οὗπερ ἐγίγνετο πρεσβύτερον, τούτου καὶ ἔστιν· ἐγίγνετο δὲ
αὑτοῦ; ”
“ ναί.”
“ ἔστι δὲ τὸ πρεσβύτερον νεωτέρου πρεσβύτερον; ”
“ ἔστιν.”
“ καὶ νεώτερον ἄρα τότε αὑτοῦ ἐστι τὸ ἕν, ὅταν πρεσβύτερον
e γιγνόμενον ἐντύχῃ τῷ νῦν.”
“ τό γε μὴν νῦν ἀεὶ πάρεστι τῷ ἑνὶ διὰ παντὸς τοῦ εἶναι· ἔστι γὰρ ἀεὶ
νῦν ὅτανπερ ᾖ.”
“ ἀεὶ ἄρα ἐστί τε καὶ γίγνεται πρεσβύτερον ἑαυτοῦ καὶ νεώτερον τὸ
ἕν.”
“ πλείω δὲ χρόνον αὐτὸ ἑαυτοῦ ἔστιν ἢ γίγνεται, ἢ τὸν ἴσον; ”
“Then, since the one comes to be older than itself, wouldn’t it come to b
be older than the self that comes to be younger?”
“Thus it comes to be both younger and older than itself.”
— “Yes.”
“But it is older, is it not, whenever in coming to be it is in the present
time, between ‘the was’ and ‘the will be’? For as it advances from ‘the
before’ to ‘the afterwards’, it will certainly not skip over ‘the now’.”
— “No, it will not.”
“Then does not it cease to come to be older when it comes upon ‘the c
now’, and then no longer comes to be older, but already is older? For
if it were moving ahead, it could never be seized by ‘the now’. For
what moves ahead is in such a state as to contact both ‘the now’ and
‘the afterwards’, letting go of ‘the now’ and grasping ‘the afterwards’,
while coming to be between the two, ‘the afterwards’ and ‘the now’.”
— “True.”
“But, if everything that comes to be cannot circumvent ‘the now’,
whenever something reaches this point, it always ceases coming to be d
whatever it may come to be, and then it is this.”
“And so, too, with the one: whenever while coming to be older it comes
upon ‘the now’, it ceases coming to be older, and then it is older.”
“And therefore it is older than what it was coming to be older than—
and wasn’t it coming to be older than itself?”
— “Yes.”
“And the older is older than a younger?”
— “It is.”
“So the one is then also younger than itself, whenever in its coming to
be older it comes upon ‘the now’.”
“But ‘the now’ always accompanies the one throughout its existence, e
for the one always is now, whenever it is.”
“Therefore the one always is and comes to be both older and younger
than itself.”
“Is it or does it come to be, for a longer time than itself, or for an equal
time?”
“ τὸν ἴσον.”
“ ἀλλὰ μὴν τόν γε ἴσον χρόνον ἢ γιγνόμενον ἢ ὂν τὴν αὐτὴν ἡλικίαν
ἔχει.”
“ τὸ δὲ τὴν αὐτὴν ἡλικίαν ἔχον οὔτε πρεσβύτερον οὔτε νεώτερόν ἐστιν.”
“ τὸ ἓν ἄρα τὸν ἴσον χρόνον αὐτὸ ἑαυτῷ καὶ γιγνόμενον καὶ ὂν οὔτε
νεώτερον οὔτε πρεσβύτερον ἑαυτοῦ ἐστιν οὐδὲ103 γίγνεται.”
“ οὔ μοι δοκεῖ.”
153 “ τί δέ; τῶν ἄλλων; ”
“ οὐκ ἔχω λέγειν.”
“ τόδε γε μὴν ἔχεις λέγειν, ὅτι τὰ ἄλλα τοῦ ἑνός, εἴπερ ἕτερά ἐστιν,
ἀλλὰ μὴ ἕτερον, πλείω ἐστὶν ἑνός· ἕτερον μὲν γὰρ ὂν ἓν ἂν ἦν· ἕτερα
δὲ ὄντα πλείω ἑνός ἐστι καὶ πλῆθος ἂν ἔχοι.”
“ ἔχοι γὰρ ἄν.”
“ πλῆθος δὲ ὂν ἀριθμοῦ πλείονος ἂν μετέχοι ἢ τοῦ ἑνός.”
“ τί οὖν; ἀριθμοῦ φήσομεν τὰ πλείω γίγνεσθαί τε καὶ γεγονέναι
πρότερον, ἢ τὰ ἐλάττω; ”
“ τὰ ἐλάττω.”
b “ τὸ ὀλίγιστον ἄρα πρῶτον· τοῦτο δ᾿ ἔστι τὸ ἕν. ἦ γάρ; ”
“ ναί.”
“ πάντων ἄρα τὸ ἓν πρῶτον γέγονε τῶν ἀριθμὸν ἐχόντων. ἔχει δὲ καὶ
τἆλλα πάντα ἀριθμόν, εἴπερ ἄλλα καὶ μὴ ἄλλο ἐστίν.”
“ ἔχει γάρ.”
“ πρῶτον δέ γε, οἶμαι, γεγονὸς πρότερον γέγονε, τὰ δὲ ἄλλα ὕστερον·
τὰ δ᾿ ὕστερον γεγονότα νεώτερα τοῦ πρότερον γεγονότος· καὶ οὕτως
ἂν εἴη τἆλλα νεώτερα τοῦ ἑνός, τὸ δὲ ἓν πρεσβύτερον τῶν ἄλλων.”
“ εἴη γὰρ ἄν.”
“ Τί δὲ τόδε; ἆρ᾿ ἂν εἴη τὸ ἓν παρὰ φύσιν τὴν αὑτοῦ γεγονός, ἢ
ἀδύνατον; ”
c “ ἀλλὰ μὴν μέρη γε ἔχον ἐφάνη τὸ ἕν, εἰ δὲ μέρη, καὶ ἀρχὴν καὶ
τελευτὴν καὶ μέσον.”
“ ναί.”
103 οὐδὲ Heindorf: οὔτε B.

— “An equal time.”

“But what comes to be, or is, for an equal [amount of] time is of the
same age.”
“And that which is of the same age is neither older nor younger.”
— “No.”
“So since the one comes to be and is for a time equal to itself, it neither
is nor comes to be younger or older than itself.”
— “I don’t think so.”
“Well, then, what about the others?”
— “I cannot say.”
“But surely you can say this: those other than the one, if indeed they 153
are different things and not a different thing, are more than one. For
if they were a different thing, they would be one, but being different
things they are more than one and have multitude.”
— “Yes, they would.”
“And, being a multitude, they would partake of a greater number than
of the one.”
“And when it comes to number, what shall we say comes to be and has
come to be earlier: ‘the more’ or ‘the less’?”
— “‘The less’.”
“So the least [i.e., the fewest] comes first, and this is the one, isn’t it?”
— “Yes.”
“So among all the things that have number, the one has come to be b
first. And all the others, too, have number, if indeed they are others
and not an other.”
— “Yes, they have.”
“But what has come to be first, has I think, come to be earlier, and
the others later; and those that have come to be later are younger than
what has come to be earlier. And so the others would be younger than
the one, and the one older than the others.”
— “Yes, they would.”
“And what about this? Would the one have come to be contrary to its
own nature, or is that impossible?”
— “Impossible.” c
“But the one was shown to have parts, and if parts, then also a begin-
ning, and an end, and a middle.”
— “Yes.”
“ οὐκοῦν πάντων πρῶτον ἀρχὴ γίγνεται, καὶ αὐτοῦ τοῦ ἑνὸς καὶ
ἑκάστου τῶν ἄλλων, καὶ μετὰ τὴν ἀρχὴν καὶ τἆλλα πάντα μέχρι τοῦ
τέλους; ”
“ καὶ μὴν μόριά γε φήσομεν ταῦτ᾿ εἶναι πάντα τἆλλα τοῦ ὅλου τε
καὶ ἑνός, αὐτὸ δὲ ἐκεῖνο ἅμα τῇ τελευτῇ γεγονέναι ἕν τε καὶ ὅλον.”
“ φήσομεν γάρ.”
d “ τελευτὴ δέ γε, οἶμαι, ὕστατον γίγνεται· τούτῳ δ᾿ ἅμα τὸ ἓν
πέφυκε γίγνεσθαι· ὥστ᾿ εἴπερ ἀνάγκη αὐτὸ τὸ ἓν μὴ παρὰ φύσιν
γίγνεσθαι, ἅμα τελευτῇ ἂν γεγονὸς ὕστατον ἂν τῶν ἄλλων πεφυκὸς
εἴη γίγνεσθαι.”
“ νεώτερον ἄρα τῶν ἄλλων τὸ ἕν ἐστι, τὰ δ᾿ ἄλλα τοῦ ἑνὸς πρεσβύτερα.”
“ οὕτως αὖ μοι φαίνεται.”
“ τί δὲ δή; ἀρχὴν ἢ ἄλλο μέρος ὁτιοῦν τοῦ ἑνὸς ἢ ἄλλου ὁτουοῦν, ἐάνπερ
μέρος ᾖ ἀλλὰ μὴ μέρη, οὐκ ἀναγκαῖον ἓν εἶναι, μέρος γε ὄν; ”
e “ ἀνάγκη.”
“ οὐκοῦν τὸ ἓν ἅμα τε τῷ πρώτῳ γιγνομένῳ γίγνοιτ᾿ ἂν καὶ ἅμα τῷ
δευτέρῳ, καὶ οὐδενὸς ἀπολείπεται τῶν ἄλλων γιγνομένων, ὅτιπερ
ἂν προσγίγνηται ὁτῳοῦν, ἕως ἂν πρὸς τὸ ἔσχατον διελθὸν ὅλον ἓν
γένηται, οὔτε μέσου οὔτε πρώτου οὔτε ἐσχάτου οὔτε ἄλλου οὐδενὸς
ἀπολειφθὲν ἐν τῇ γενέσει.”
“ πᾶσιν ἄρα τοῖς ἄλλοις τὴν αὐτὴν ἡλικίαν ἴσχει τὸ ἕν. ὥστ᾿ εἰ μὴ
154 παρὰ φύσιν πέφυκεν αὐτὸ τὸ ἕν, οὔτε πρότερον οὔτε ὕστερον τῶν
ἄλλων γεγονὸς ἂν εἴη, ἀλλ᾿ ἅμα. καὶ κατὰ τοῦτον τὸν λόγον τὸ ἓν
τῶν ἄλλων οὔτε πρεσβύτερον οὔτε νεώτερον ἂν εἴη, οὐδὲ τἆλλα τοῦ
ἑνός· κατὰ δὲ τὸν πρόσθεν πρεσβύτερόν τε καὶ νεώτερον, καὶ τἆλλα
ἐκείνου ὡσαύτως.”
“ ἔστι μὲν δὴ οὕτως ἔχον τε καὶ γεγονός. ἀλλὰ τί αὖ περὶ τοῦ
γίγνεσθαι αὐτὸ πρεσβύτερόν τε καὶ νεώτερον τῶν ἄλλων καὶ τἆλλα
b τοῦ ἑνός, καὶ μήτε νεώτερον μήτε πρεσβύτερον γίγνεσθαι; ἆρα ὥσπερ
περὶ τοῦ εἶναι, οὕτω καὶ περὶ τοῦ γίγνεσθαι ἔχει, ἢ ἑτέρως; ”
“ οὐκ ἔχω λέγειν.”
“Then doesn’t the beginning come first for all things—both for the one
itself and for each of the others—and after the beginning, everything
else as well until the end?”
“Furthermore, we shall say that all these others are parts of the whole
and of the one, and that this itself—as one and whole—has come to
be concurrently with the end.”
— “Yes, we shall.”
“I take it that the end comes to be last, and oneness by nature comes d
to be concurrently with it. So if indeed the one itself must not come
to be contrary to its own nature, in coming to be concurrently with
the end, it naturally comes to be last of all the others.”
“Therefore, the one is younger than the others, and the others are
older than the one.”
— “Again, so it appears to me.”
“But then: must not a beginning, or any other part of the one what-
soever, or of anything else—if indeed it is a part, and not parts—be
necessarily one, given that it is a part?”
“So the one would come to be concurrently with the first that comes to
be and concurrently with the second, and it is absent from none of the e
others that come to be—regardless of what is added to what—until,
by reaching the last [point in the sequence], it comes to be one whole
[thing], lacking in its coming-to-be neither of the middle, nor the last,
nor the first, nor of any other.”
— “True.”
“Therefore, the one is of the same age as all the others. And so, if the
one itself is not by nature contrary to its own nature, it would have
come to be neither before nor after the others, but at the same time. 154
By this account, the one would be neither older nor younger than the
others, nor the others [older or younger] than the one. But according
to our previous [account], it was older and younger [than the others],
and likewise the others [were older and younger] than it.”
“ ἀλλ᾿ ἐγὼ τοσόνδε γε, ὅτι εἰ καὶ ἔστιν πρεσβύτερον ἕτερον ἑτέρου,
γίγνεσθαί γε αὐτὸ πρεσβύτερον ἔτι ἢ ὡς τὸ πρῶτον εὐθὺς γενόμενον
διήνεγκε τῇ ἡλικίᾳ οὐκ ἂν ἔτι δύναιτο, οὐδ᾿ αὖ τὸ νεώτερον ὂν ἔτι
νεώτερον γίγνεσθαι· ἀνίσοις γὰρ ἴσα προστιθέμενα, χρόνῳ τε καὶ
ἄλλῳ ὁτῳοῦν, ἴσῳ ποιεῖ διαφέρειν ἀεὶ ὅσῳπερ ἂν τὸ πρῶτον διενέγκῃ.”
c “ οὐκ ἄρα τό γε ὂν τοῦ104 ὄντος γίγνοιτ᾿ ἄν ποτε πρεσβύτερον οὐδὲ
νεώτερον, εἴπερ ἴσῳ διαφέρει ἀεὶ τὴν ἡλικίαν· ἀλλ᾿ ἔστι καὶ γέγονε
πρεσβύτερον, τὸ δὲ νεώτερον, γίγνεται δ᾿ οὔ.”
“ καὶ τὸ ἓν ἄρα ὂν τῶν ἄλλων ὄντων οὔτε πρεσβύτερόν ποτε οὔτε
νεώτερον γίγνεται.”
“ ὅρα δὲ εἰ τῇδε πρεσβύτερα καὶ νεώτερα γίγνεται.”
“ πῇ δή; ”
“ ᾗ τό τε ἓν τῶν ἄλλων ἐφάνη πρεσβύτερον καὶ τἆλλα τοῦ ἑνός.”
“ τί οὖν; ”
d “ ὅταν τὸ ἓν τῶν ἄλλων πρεσβύτερον ᾖ, πλείω που χρόνον γέγονεν ἢ
τὰ ἄλλα.”
“ ναί.”
“ πάλιν δὴ σκόπει· ἐὰν πλέονι καὶ ἐλάττονι χρόνῳ προστιθῶμεν
τὸν ἴσον χρόνον, ἆρα τῷ ἴσῳ μορίῳ διοίσει τὸ πλέον τοῦ ἐλάττονος ἢ
σμικροτέρῳ; ”
“ σμικροτέρῳ.”
“ οὐκ ἄρα ἔσται, ὅτιπερ τὸ πρῶτον ἦν πρὸς τἆλλα ἡλικίᾳ διαφέρον τὸ
ἕν, τοῦτο καὶ εἰς τὸ ἔπειτα, ἀλλὰ ἴσον λαμβάνον χρόνον τοῖς ἄλλοις
ἔλαττον ἀεὶ τῇ ἡλικίᾳ διοίσει αὐτῶν ἢ πρότερον· ἢ οὔ; ”
e “ ναί.”
“ οὐκοῦν τό γε ἔλαττον διαφέρον ἡλικίᾳ πρός τι ἢ πρότερον νεώτερον
γίγνοιτ᾿ ἂν ἢ ἐν τῷ πρόσθεν πρὸς ἐκεῖνα πρὸς ἃ ἦν πρεσβύτερον
πρότερον; ”
104 τοῦ ἑνὸς BT: ἑνὸς secl. Schleiermacher.

Text and Translation: 154a–e 169
“This is how it is and has come to be. But then again, what about its
coming to be both older and younger, and neither younger nor older,
than the others, and the others than the one? Is the case with coming-
to-be just as it is with being, or is it different?”
— “I cannot say.”
“But I can say at least this much: if one thing is older than another b
thing, it could not come to be even older by an amount greater than
its original difference in age; nor, again, could the younger come to
be still younger. For adding equals to unequals, whether to time or to
anything else whatsoever, always makes them different by an amount
equal to that by which they originally differed.”
“So ‘that which is’ could never come to be older or younger than any c
other ‘that which is’, if indeed they always differ in age by an equal
amount. Yet [one] is and has come to be older, and the other younger,
though they are not [in the process of] coming to be so. So the one
as well, since it is, never comes to be either older or younger than the
others that are.”
— “No, it does not.”
“But consider then whether it comes to be older and younger in this
way.”
— “In what way?”
“In the way that the one was shown to be older than the others and
the others than the one.”
— “What of that?”
“Whenever the one is older than the others, it has somehow come to
be for a longer time than the others.”
— “Yes.” d
“Then consider again: if we add an equal time to more and to less time,
will the more differ from the less by an equal or a smaller portion?”
— “A smaller one.”
“So whatever the proportional difference in age there is originally
between the one and the others, this will not continue thereafter, but
by obtaining the equal [amount of] time as the others, the difference
in age between them will constantly come to be less than before. Is
this not so?”
— “Yes.”
“So wouldn’t that which differs from something in age less than it e
previously did come to be younger than it previously was, in relation
to those it was previously older than?”
— “Younger.”
“ νεώτερον.”
“ εἰ δὲ ἐκεῖνο νεώτερον, οὐκ ἐκεῖνα αὖ τὰ ἄλλα πρὸς τὸ ἓν πρεσβύτερα
ἢ πρότερον; ”
“ τὸ μὲν νεώτερον ἄρα γεγονὸς πρεσβύτερον γίγνεται πρὸς τὸ πρότερον
γεγονός τε καὶ πρεσβύτερον ὄν, ἔστι δὲ οὐδέποτε πρεσβύτερον, ἀλλὰ
γίγνεται ἀεὶ ἐκείνου πρεσβύτερον· ἐκεῖνο μὲν γὰρ ἐπὶ τὸ νεώτερον
155 ἐπιδίδωσιν, τὸ δ᾿ ἐπὶ τὸ πρεσβύτερον. τὸ δ᾿ αὖ πρεσβύτερον τοῦ
νεωτέρου νεώτερον γίγνεται ὡσαύτως. ἰόντε γὰρ αὐτοῖν εἰς τὸ ἐναντίον
τὸ ἐναντίον ἀλλήλοιν γίγνεσθον, τὸ μὲν νεώτερον πρεσβύτερον τοῦ
πρεσβυτέρου, τὸ δὲ πρεσβύτερον νεώτερον τοῦ νεωτέρου· γενέσθαι δὲ
οὐκ ἂν οἵω τε εἴτην. εἰ γὰρ γένοιντο, οὐκ ἂν ἔτι γίγνοιντο, ἀλλ᾿ εἶεν
ἄν. νῦν δὲ γίγνονται μὲν πρεσβύτερα ἀλλήλων καὶ νεώτερα· τὸ μὲν ἓν
b τῶν ἄλλων νεώτερον γίγνεται, ὅτι πρεσβύτερον ἐφάνη ὂν καὶ πρότερον
γεγονός, τὰ δὲ ἄλλα τοῦ ἑνὸς πρεσβύτερα, ὅτι ὕστερα γέγονε. κατὰ δὲ
τὸν αὐτὸν λόγον καὶ τἆλλα οὕτω πρὸς τὸ ἓν ἴσχει, ἐπειδήπερ αὐτοῦ
πρεσβύτερα ἐφάνη καὶ πρότερα γεγονότα.”
“ φαίνεται γὰρ οὖν οὕτως.”
“ οὐκοῦν ᾗ μὲν οὐδὲν ἕτερον ἑτέρου πρεσβύτερον γίγνεται οὐδὲ
νεώτερον, κατὰ τὸ ἴσῳ ἀριθμῷ ἀλλήλων ἀεὶ διαφέρειν, οὔτε τὸ ἓν τῶν
ἄλλων πρεσβύτερον γίγνοιτ᾿ ἂν οὐδὲ νεώτερον, οὔτε τἆλλα τοῦ ἑνός· ᾗ
c δὲ ἄλλῳ ἀεὶ μορίῳ διαφέρειν ἀνάγκη τὰ πρότερα τῶν ὑστέρων γενόμενα
καὶ τὰ ὕστερα τῶν προτέρων, ταύτῃ δὴ ἀνάγκη πρεσβύτερά τε καὶ
νεώτερα ἀλλήλων γίγνεσθαι τά τε ἄλλα τοῦ ἑνὸς καὶ τὸ ἓν τῶν ἄλλων; ”
“πάνυ μὲν οὖν.”
“ κατὰ δὴ πάντα ταῦτα τὸ ἓν αὐτό τε αὑτοῦ καὶ τῶν ἄλλων
πρεσβύτερον καὶ νεώτερον ἔστι τε καὶ γίγνεται, καὶ οὔτε πρεσβύτερον
οὔτε νεώτερον οὔτ᾿ ἔστιν οὔτε γίγνεται οὔτε αὑτοῦ οὔτε τῶν ἄλλων.”
“ παντελῶς μὲν οὖν.”
d “ ἐπειδὴ δὲ χρόνου μετέχει τὸ ἓν καὶ τοῦ πρεσβύτερόν τε καὶ νεώτερον
γίγνεσθαι, ἆρ᾿ οὐκ ἀνάγκη καὶ τοῦ ποτὲ μετέχειν καὶ τοῦ ἔπειτα καὶ
τοῦ νῦν, εἴπερ χρόνου μετέχει; ”
Text and Translation: 154e–155d 171
“But if it comes to be younger, do not those others, in turn, [come to

be] older than before, in relation to the one?”
“So the younger that came to be [later] comes to be older in relation
to what came to be earlier and is older, and it never is older, but it is
constantly coming to be older than that [i.e., the older]. For it [i.e.,
the older] advances toward the younger and the younger toward the 155
older. And again, in like manner the older comes to be younger than
the younger. Thus, by going in opposite directions, they come to be the
opposite of each other, the younger older than the older, and the older
younger than the younger. But they cannot [arrive] in their coming
to be. For if they arrived, they would no longer come to be, but would
[already] be in that way. But as it is, they are coming to be older and
younger than each other. The one comes to be younger than the oth-
ers, because it was shown to be older and to have come to be earlier, b
whereas the others come to be older than the one, because they have
come to be later. And, by the same account, the others, too, are related
in this way to the one, since indeed, they were shown to be older than
the one and to have come to be earlier.”
— “Yes, it appears this way.”
“Then, insofar as nothing comes to be older or younger than any other
thing—by reason of their always differing from one another by an equal
amount—neither would the one come to be older or younger than
the others, nor the others than the one. But, insofar as what comes to c
be earlier must differ from what comes to be later by an amount that
is always different—and also the later from the earlier—then, in the
same way is it not necessary that they come to be older and younger
than each other, the others than the one and the one than the others?”
“Then according to all this, the one itself is and comes to be older and
younger than itself and the others, and it neither is nor comes to be
either older or younger than itself or the others.”
“And since the one partakes of time and of coming to be older and d
younger, must it not then also partake of ‘the before’, and ‘the after’,
and of ‘the now’, if indeed it partakes of time?”
“ ἦν ἄρα τὸ ἓν καὶ ἔστι καὶ ἔσται καὶ ἐγίγνετο καὶ γίγνεται καὶ
γενήσεται.”
“ καὶ εἴη ἄν τι ἐκείνῳ καὶ ἐκείνου, καὶ ἦν καὶ ἔστιν καὶ ἔσται.”
“ καὶ ἐπιστήμη δὴ εἴη ἂν αὐτοῦ καὶ δόξα καὶ αἴσθησις, εἴπερ καὶ νῦν
ἡμεῖς περὶ αὐτοῦ πάντα ταῦτα πράττομεν.”
“ ὀρθῶς λέγεις.”
“ καὶ ὄνομα δὴ καὶ λόγος ἔστιν αὐτῷ, καὶ ὀνομάζεται καὶ λέγεται·
e καὶ ὅσαπερ καὶ περὶ τὰ ἄλλα τῶν τοιούτων τυγχάνει ὄντα, καὶ περὶ
τὸ ἓν ἔστιν.”
“ παντελῶς μὲν οὖν ἔχει οὕτως.”
“ Ἔτι δὴ τὸ τρίτον λέγωμεν. τὸ ἓν εἰ ἔστιν οἷον διεληλύθαμεν, ἆρ᾿
οὐκ ἀνάγκη αὐτό, ἕν τε ὂν καὶ πολλὰ καὶ μήτε ἓν μήτε πολλὰ καὶ
μετέχον χρόνου, ὅτι μὲν ἔστιν ἕν, οὐσίας μετέχειν ποτέ, ὅτι δ᾿ οὐκ
ἔστι, μὴ μετέχειν αὖ ποτε οὐσίας; ”
“ ἆρ᾿ οὖν, ὅτε μετέχει, οἷόν τε ἔσται τότε μὴ μετέχειν, ἢ ὅτε μὴ
μετέχει, μετέχειν; ”
“ oὐχ οἷόν τε.”
“ ἐν ἄλλῳ ἄρα χρόνῳ μετέχει καὶ ἐν ἄλλῳ οὐ μετέχει· οὕτω γὰρ ἂν
156 μόνως τοῦ αὐτοῦ μετέχοι τε καὶ οὐ μετέχοι.”
“ oὐκοῦν ἔστι καὶ οὗτος χρόνος, ὅτε μεταλαμβάνει τοῦ εἶναι καὶ ὅτε
ἀπαλλάττεται αὐτοῦ; ἢ πῶς οἷόν τε ἔσται τοτὲ μὲν ἔχειν τὸ αὐτό, τοτὲ
δὲ μὴ ἔχειν, ἐὰν μή ποτε καὶ λαμβάνῃ αὐτὸ καὶ ἀφίῃ; ”
“ oὐδαμῶς.”
“ τὸ δὴ οὐσίας μεταλαμβάνειν ἆρά γε οὐ γίγνεσθαι καλεῖς; ”
“ ἔγωγε.”
“ τὸ δὲ ἀπαλλάττεσθαι οὐσίας ἆρα οὐκ ἀπόλλυσθαι; ”
“Therefore, the one ‘was’ and ‘is’ and ‘will be’, and ‘was coming to be’
and ‘comes to be’ and ‘will come to be’.”
“And something could belong to it and be of it, [along with] ‘was’ and
‘is’ and ‘will be’.”
“And there would be knowledge and opinion and perception of it, since
indeed we are currently performing all those actions in regard to it.”
— “What you say is right.”
“And a name and an account belong to it, and it is named and spoken
of. And as many such things [i.e., attributes] happen to pertain to the e
others, they also pertain to the one.”
— “That’s completely so.”
CONCLUSION: RESULTS OF ARGUMENTS I AND II

“Let us speak of it again for a third time: if the one is as we have described
it—both one and many and neither one nor many, and partaking of
time—must it not, since it is one, sometimes partake of being, and in
turn, sometimes not partake of being because it is not [one]?”
“When it partakes [of being], will it at that time be able not to partake,
or to partake, when it doesn’t partake?”
— “It will not be able to.”
“So it partakes at one time and does not partake at another, for only
in this way could it both partake and not partake of the same thing.” 156
— “Right.”
COMING-TO-BE/CEASING-TO-BE
“Then isn’t there also a [given] time when it takes part in being, and
when it relinquishes it? Or, how will it be able at one time to have the
same [thing] and at another time not have it, unless it sometimes both
obtains it and releases it?”
“So do you not call taking part in being ‘coming-to-be’?”
— “Yes, I do.”
“And then relinquishing being ‘ceasing-to-be’?”

“ τὸ ἓν δή, ὡς ἔοικε, λαμβάνον τε καὶ ἀφιὲν οὐσίαν γίγνεταί τε καὶ
b ἀπόλλυται.”
“ ἓν δὲ καὶ πολλὰ ὂν καὶ γιγνόμενον καὶ ἀπολλύμενον ἆρ᾿ οὐχ, ὅταν
μὲν γίγνηται ἕν, τὸ πολλὰ εἶναι ἀπόλλυται, ὅταν δὲ πολλά, τὸ ἓν εἶναι
ἀπόλλυται; ”
“ ἓν δὲ γιγνόμενον καὶ πολλὰ ἆρ᾿ οὐκ ἀνάγκη διακρίνεσθαί τε καὶ
συγκρίνεσθαι; ”
“ πολλή γε.”
“ καὶ μὴν ἀνόμοιόν γε καὶ ὅμοιον ὅταν γίγνηται, ὁμοιοῦσθαί τε καὶ
ἀνομοιοῦσθαι; ”
“ ναί.”
c “ καὶ ὅταν μεῖζον καὶ ἔλαττον καὶ ἴσον, αὐξάνεσθαί τε καὶ φθίνειν
καὶ ἰσοῦσθαι; ”
“ οὕτως.”
“ ὅταν δὲ κινούμενόν τε ἵστηται καὶ ὅταν ἑστὸς ἐπὶ τὸ κινεῖσθαι
μεταβάλλῃ, δεῖ δή που αὐτό γε μηδ᾿ ἐν ἑνὶ χρόνῳ εἶναι.”
“ πῶς δή; ”
“ ἑστός τε πρότερον ὕστερον κινεῖσθαι καὶ πρότερον κινούμενον
ὕστερον ἑστάναι, ἄνευ μὲν τοῦ μεταβάλλειν οὐχ οἷόν τε ἔσται ταῦτα
πάσχειν.”
“ χρόνος δέ γε οὐδεὶς ἔστιν, ἐν ᾧ τι οἷόν τε ἅμα μήτε κινεῖσθαι μήτε
ἑστάναι.”
“ ἀλλ᾿ οὐδὲ μὴν μεταβάλλει ἄνευ τοῦ μεταβάλλειν.”
“ οὐκ εἰκός.”
“ πότ᾿ οὖν μεταβάλλει; οὔτε γὰρ ἑστὸς ὂν105 οὔτε κινούμενον
d μεταβάλλει, οὔτε ἐν χρόνῳ ὄν.”
“ ἆρ᾿ οὖν ἔστι τὸ ἄτοπον τοῦτο, ἐν ᾧ τότ᾿ ἂν εἴη, ὅτε μεταβάλλει; ”
“ τὸ ποῖον δή; ”
105 ὂν B: ἂν T.
“Indeed, the one, as it seems, when it obtains and releases being, comes
to be and ceases to be.” b
“And since it is one and many and comes to be and ceases to be, does
it not then, when it comes to be one, cease to be as many, and when it
comes to be many, cease to be as one?”
“And since it comes to be one and many, must it not be separated and
combined?”
— “Very much so.”
“And whenever it comes to be like and unlike, must it not be made
like and unlike?”
— “Yes.”
“And whenever it comes to be larger and smaller and equal, must it
not be increased and decreased and made equal?”
— “Just so.”
THE INSTANT
“And whenever, being in motion, it comes to rest, and whenever, being at c
rest, it changes to moving, it itself must somehow be in no time at all.”
— “How is that?”
“It will not be able to be initially at rest and afterwards in motion, or
initially in motion and afterwards at rest, without changing.”
“But there is no time in which something can, simultaneously, be
neither in motion nor at rest.”
“But surely, neither does it change without changing.”
— “Hardly.”
“So when does it change? For this happens neither when it is at rest,
nor when it is in motion, nor when it is in time.” d
— “No, it does not.”
“Is there, then, this oddity in which it would be just when it changes?”
— “What kind of oddity?”
“ τὸ ἐξαίφνης. τὸ γὰρ ἐξαίφνης τοιόνδε τι ἔοικε σημαίνειν, ὡς ἐξ

ἐκείνου μεταβάλλον εἰς ἑκάτερον. οὐ γὰρ ἔκ γε τοῦ ἑστάναι ἑστῶτος
ἔτι μεταβάλλει, οὐδ᾿ ἐκ τῆς κινήσεως κινουμένης ἔτι μεταβάλλει· ἀλλὰ
e ἡ ἐξαίφνης αὕτη φύσις ἄτοπός τις ἐγκάθηται μεταξὺ τῆς κινήσεώς τε
καὶ στάσεως, ἐν χρόνῳ οὐδενὶ οὖσα, καὶ εἰς ταύτην δὴ καὶ ἐκ ταύτης
τό τε κινούμενον μεταβάλλει ἐπὶ τὸ ἑστάναι καὶ τὸ ἑστὸς ἐπὶ τὸ
κινεῖσθαι.”
“ καὶ τὸ ἓν δή, εἴπερ ἕστηκέ τε καὶ κινεῖται, μεταβάλλοι ἂν ἐφ᾿
ἑκάτερα· μόνως γὰρ ἂν οὕτως ἀμφότερα ποιοῖ· μεταβάλλον δ᾿ ἐξαίφνης
μεταβάλλει, καὶ ὅτε μεταβάλλει, ἐν οὐδενὶ χρόνῳ ἂν εἴη, οὐδὲ κινοῖτ᾿
ἂν τότε, οὐδ᾿ ἂν σταίη.”
“ ἆρ᾿ οὖν οὕτω καὶ πρὸς τὰς ἄλλας μεταβολὰς ἔχει, ὅταν ἐκ τοῦ εἶναι
157 εἰς τὸ ἀπόλλυσθαι μεταβάλλῃ ἢ ἐκ τοῦ μὴ εἶναι εἰς τὸ γίγνεσθαι,
μεταξύ τινων τότε γίγνεται κινήσεών τε καὶ στάσεων, καὶ οὔτε ἔστι
τότε οὔτε οὐκ ἔστι, οὔτε γίγνεται οὔτε ἀπόλλυται; ”
“ ἔοικε γοῦν.”
“ κατὰ δὴ τὸν αὐτὸν λόγον καὶ ἐξ ἑνὸς ἐπὶ πολλὰ ἰὸν καὶ ἐκ πολλῶν
ἐφ᾿ ἓν οὔτε ἕν ἐστιν οὔτε πολλά, οὔτε διακρίνεται οὔτε συγκρίνεται.
καὶ ἐξ ὁμοίου ἐπὶ ἀνόμοιον καὶ ἐξ ἀνομοίου ἐπὶ ὅμοιον ἰὸν οὔτε ὅμοιον
b οὔτε ἀνόμοιον, οὔτε ὁμοιούμενον οὔτε ἀνομοιούμενον· καὶ ἐκ σμικροῦ
ἐπὶ μέγα καὶ ἐπὶ ἴσον καὶ εἰς τὰ ἐναντία ἰὸν οὔτε σμικρὸν οὔτε μέγα
οὔτε ἴσον, οὔτε αὐξανόμενον οὔτε φθῖνον οὔτε ἰσούμενον εἴη ἄν.”
“ οὐκ ἔοικε.”
“ ταῦτα δὴ τὰ παθήματα πάντ᾿ ἂν πάσχοι τὸ ἕν, εἰ ἔστιν.”
“The instant. The instant seems to signify the kind of thing from which
there is changing in each of two directions. For something does not
change from rest while it is still resting, or from motion while it is still
moving. But the instant, that odd-natured thing, sits106 between motion e
and rest—being in no time at all—and what moves into it and out of
it changes to resting and what rests changes to moving.”
— “Quite likely.”
“And the one, if it indeed is both at rest and in motion, would change
in each of two directions, for only in this way could it do both. But
in changing, it changes in an instant, and when it changes, it would
be in no time at all, and [at that point] it would be neither in motion
nor at rest.”
PASSING THROUGH NEITHER/NOR

“Is this also the case in regard to the other types of changes? Whenever
the one changes from being to ceasing-to-be, or from not-being to 157
coming-to-be, does it then not come to be between certain motions
and states of rest, and then it neither is nor is not, and neither comes
to be nor ceases to be?”
— “It seems so.”
“And by the same account, when it goes from one to many and from
many to one, it is neither one nor many, and is neither separated nor
combined. And when it goes from like to unlike and from unlike to
like, it is neither like nor unlike, nor is it being made like nor unlike.
And when it goes from small to large and to equal, and vice versa, b
it is neither small nor large nor equal; nor would it be increasing or
decreasing, nor being made equal.”
“The one, if it is, would undergo all of the above.”
106 ἐγκάθηται: ‘sit in’, ‘lie in ambush’, ‘lie in a place’, ‘lie couched in’ (ἐγκάθημαι
in Liddell-Scott-Jones, A Greek-English Lexicon). Cf. Gill, Plato: Parmenides,
164.
“ Τί δὲ τοῖς ἄλλοις προσήκοι ἂν πάσχειν, ἓν εἰ ἔστιν, ἆρα οὐ

σκεπτέον; ”
“ σκεπτέον.”
“ λέγωμεν δή, ἓν εἰ ἔστι, τἆλλα τοῦ ἑνὸς τί χρὴ πεπονθέναι; ”
“ λέγωμεν.”
“ οὐκοῦν ἐπείπερ ἄλλα τοῦ ἑνός ἐστιν, οὔτε τὸ ἕν ἐστι τἆλλα· οὐ γὰρ
ἂν ἄλλα τοῦ ἑνὸς ἦν.”
c “ οὐδὲ μὴν στέρεταί γε παντάπασι τοῦ ἑνὸς τἆλλα, ἀλλὰ μετέχει πῃ.”
“ πῇ δή; ”
“ ὅτι που τὰ ἄλλα τοῦ ἑνὸς μόρια ἔχοντα ἄλλα ἐστίν· εἰ γὰρ μόρια μὴ
ἔχοι, παντελῶς ἂν ἓν εἴη.”
“ μόρια δέ γε, φαμέν, τούτου ἐστὶν ὃ ἂν ὅλον ᾖ.”
“ φαμὲν γάρ.”
“ ἀλλὰ μὴν τό γε ὅλον ἓν ἐκ πολλῶν ἀνάγκη εἶναι, οὗ ἔσται μόρια
τὰ μόρια. ἕκαστον γὰρ τῶν μορίων οὐ πολλῶν μόριον χρὴ εἶναι, ἀλλὰ
ὅλου.”
“ πῶς τοῦτο; ”
d “ εἴ τι πολλῶν μόριον εἴη, ἐν οἷς αὐτὸ εἴη, ἑαυτοῦ τε δή που μόριον
ἔσται, ὅ ἐστιν ἀδύνατον, καὶ τῶν ἄλλων δὴ ἑνὸς ἑκάστου, εἴπερ καὶ
πάντων. ἑνὸς γὰρ μὴ ὂν μόριον, πλὴν τούτου τῶν ἄλλων ἔσται, καὶ
οὕτως ἑνὸς ἑκάστου οὐκ ἔσται μόριον, μὴ ὂν δὲ μόριον ἑκάστου οὐδενὸς
τῶν πολλῶν ἔσται. μηδενὸς δὲ ὂν πάντων τούτων τι εἶναι, ὧν οὐδενὸς
οὐδέν ἐστι, καὶ μόριον καὶ ἄλλο ὁτιοῦν ἀδύνατον.107 ”
“ φαίνεταί γε δή.”
“ oὐκ ἄρα τῶν πολλῶν οὐδὲ πάντων τὸ μόριον μόριον, ἀλλὰ μιᾶς τινὸς
e ἰδέας καὶ ἑνός τινος, ὃ καλοῦμεν ὅλον, ἐξ ἁπάντων ἓν τέλειον γεγονός,
τούτου μόριον ἂν τὸ μόριον εἴη.”
107 ἀδύνατον εἶναι BT: εἶναι secl. Heindorf.

THIRD ARGUMENT
“‘If the one is’, should we not consider next what would be appropriate
for the others to undergo as well?”
— “We should.”
“Shall we then state what those ‘other than the one’ must have under-
gone, ‘if the one is’?”
— “We shall.”
PART/WHOLE
“So, then, if indeed they are ‘other than the one’, the others are not the c
one either, for if they were, they would not be ‘other than the one’.”
“And yet the others are not utterly deprived of oneness, but partake
of it in some way.”
“It is presumably because things ‘other than the one’ have parts that they
are other, for if they did not have parts, they would be entirely one.”
“And parts, we say, are [parts] of that which is a whole.”
— “Yes, we do.”
“But surely the whole, of which the parts will be parts, must be a one
composed of many, for each of the parts must be a part, not of many,
but of a whole.”
— “Why is that?”
“If something were to be part of a many [i.e., a plurality], among which
it itself would be counted, then surely it will somehow be part of itself, d
which is impossible, and also [part] of each one of the others—if indeed
it were to be part of all. For if it is not part of the one, it [instead] will
be part of the others—with the one excepted—and thus it will not be
part of each one, and if not part of each, then of none of the many. But
that which is of none at all, cannot be a part—or anything else—of
all those things it is none of [individually].”
— “It certainly appears so.”
“So the part would not be part either of many or of all, but of a single
concept108 and unity, which we call ‘whole’, a perfect oneness that has e
come to be from all. This is what the part would be part of.”
108 Cf. Fowler, Plato in Twelve Volumes, Vol. 9.


“ εἰ ἄρα τἆλλα μόρια ἔχει, κἂν τοῦ ὅλου τε καὶ ἑνὸς μετέχοι.”
“ ἓν ἄρα ὅλον τέλειον μόρια ἔχον ἀνάγκη εἶναι τἆλλα τοῦ ἑνός.”
“ καὶ μὴν καὶ περὶ τοῦ μορίου γε ἑκάστου ὁ αὐτὸς λόγος. καὶ γὰρ τοῦτο
158 ἀνάγκη μετέχειν τοῦ ἑνός. εἰ γὰρ ἕκαστον αὐτῶν μόριόν ἐστι, τό γε
ἕκαστον εἶναι ἓν δήπου σημαίνει, ἀφωρισμένον μὲν τῶν ἄλλων, καθ᾿
αὑτὸ δὲ ὄν, εἴπερ ἕκαστον ἔσται.”
“ μετέχοι δέ γε ἂν τοῦ ἑνὸς δῆλον ὅτι ἄλλο ὂν ἢ ἕν· οὐ γὰρ ἂν μετεῖχεν,
ἀλλ᾿ ἦν ἂν αὐτὸ ἕν· νῦν δὲ ἑνὶ μὲν εἶναι πλὴν αὐτῷ τῷ ἑνὶ ἀδύνατόν
που.”
“ μετέχειν δέ γε τοῦ ἑνὸς ἀνάγκη τῷ τε ὅλῳ καὶ τῷ μορίῳ. τὸ μὲν γὰρ
ἓν ὅλον ἔσται, οὗ μόρια τὰ μόρια· τὸ δ᾿ αὖ ἕκαστον ἓν μόριον τοῦ ὅλου,
ὃ ἂν ᾖ μόριον ὅλου.”
“ οὕτως.”
b “ οὐκοῦν ἕτερα ὄντα τοῦ ἑνὸς μεθέξει τὰ μετέχοντα αὐτοῦ; ”
“ τὰ δ᾿ ἕτερα τοῦ ἑνὸς πολλά που ἂν εἴη. εἰ γὰρ μήτε ἓν μήτε ἑνὸς
πλείω εἴη τἆλλα τοῦ ἑνός, οὐδὲν ἂν εἴη.”
“So if the others have parts, they would also partake of wholeness and
oneness.”
“So things other than the one must be one complete whole, which
has parts.”
“Furthermore, the same account applies also to each part, since it too
must partake of the one, for if each of these is a part—and ‘each’ signi- 158
fies somehow to be one—it is singled out from the others and also is
by itself—if indeed it is to be ‘each’.”
“But it would obviously partake of the one, since it is other than the
one, for if it were not [other], it would not partake of it but would itself
be the one. But as it is, it is quite impossible for anything except the
one itself to be the one.”
“But both the whole and the part must partake of the one, for the one
is to be a whole of which the parts are parts, and in turn each part of
a whole will be one part of the whole.”
— “Just so.”
“Then things partaking of the one will be other than the one while b
partaking of it?”
“But things other than the one would presumably be many, for if the
things other than the one were neither one nor more than one, they
would be nothing.”
— “Agreed.”
“ Ἐπεὶ δέ γε πλείω ἑνός ἐστι τά τε τοῦ ἑνὸς μορίου καὶ τὰ τοῦ

ἑνὸς ὅλου μετέχοντα, οὐκ ἀνάγκη ἤδη πλήθει ἄπειρα εἶναι αὐτά γε
ἐκεῖνα τὰ μεταλαμβάνοντα τοῦ ἑνός; ”
“ πῶς; ”
“ ὧδε ἴδωμεν.109 ἄλλο τι οὐχ ἓν ὄντα οὐδὲ μετέχοντα τοῦ ἑνὸς τότε,
ὅτε μεταλαμβάνει αὐτοῦ, μεταλαμβάνει; ”
c “ δῆλα δή.”
“ oὐκοῦν πλήθη ὄντα, ἐν οἷς τὸ ἓν οὐκ ἔνι; ”
“ πλήθη μέντοι.”
“ τί οὖν; εἰ ἐθέλοιμεν τῇ διανοίᾳ τῶν τοιούτων ἀφελεῖν ὡς οἷοί τέ
ἐσμεν ὅτι ὀλίγιστον, οὐκ ἀνάγκη καὶ τὸ ἀφαιρεθὲν ἐκεῖνο, εἴπερ τοῦ
ἑνὸς μὴ μετέχοι, πλῆθος εἶναι καὶ οὐχ ἕν; ”
“ οὐκοῦν οὕτως ἀεὶ σκοποῦντες αὐτὴν καθ᾿ αὑτὴν τὴν ἑτέραν φύσιν
τοῦ εἴδους ὅσον ἂν αὐτῆς ἀεὶ ὁρῶμεν ἄπειρον ἔσται πλήθει; ”
d “ καὶ μὴν ἐπειδάν γε ἓν ἕκαστον μόριον μόριον γένηται, πέρας ἤδη
ἔχει πρὸς ἄλληλα καὶ πρὸς τὸ ὅλον, καὶ τὸ ὅλον πρὸς τὰ μόρια.”
“ κομιδῇ μὲν οὖν.”
“ τοῖς ἄλλοις δὴ τοῦ ἑνὸς ξυμβαίνει ἐκ μὲν τοῦ ἑνὸς καὶ ἐξ ἑαυτῶν
κοινωνησάντων, ὡς ἔοικεν, ἕτερόν τι γίγνεσθαι ἐν ἑαυτοῖς, ὃ δὴ πέρας
παρέσχε πρὸς ἄλληλα· ἡ δ᾿ ἑαυτῶν φύσις καθ᾿ ἑαυτὰ ἀπειρίαν.”
“ οὕτω δὴ τὰ ἄλλα τοῦ ἑνὸς καὶ ὅλα καὶ κατὰ μόρια ἄπειρά τέ ἐστι
καὶ πέρατος μετέχει.”
109 ἴδωμεν] εἰδῶμεν BT.

LIMITED/UNLIMITED
“And now, since both the things that partake of the one as part and
the one as whole are more than one, must not those that take part in
oneness be already unlimited in multitude?”
— “How so?”
“Let us look at the question in this way: isn’t it the case that, at the
time when they come to take part in the one, they neither are one, nor
partake of the one?”
— “Clearly.” c
“So they are multitudes in which oneness is not present?”110
— “Multitudes, indeed.”
“Now, if we wanted to subtract in thought from these multitudes the
minimum amount possible, must not what is subtracted be too a mul-
titude and not one, if indeed it does not partake of the one?”
“So whenever we examine in this way that nature alone by itself, dif-
ferent from the Form, will not whatever we see of it in each case be
unlimited in multitude?”
— “Yes, absolutely.”
“Furthermore, whenever each part comes to be one part, the parts then d
have a limit in relation to each other and in relation to the whole, and
the whole [has a limit] in relation to the parts.”
— “Undoubtedly.”
“Then it follows for things ‘other than the one’, that from their taking
part in the one and in each other, something different comes to be in
them, as it seems, that provides a limit for them in relation to each
other. But by themselves, their own nature provides lack of limit.”
“In this way, indeed, the things ‘other than the one’, taken both as
wholes and as individual parts, both are unlimited and also partake
of a limit.”
110 Irrational numbers? That is, numbers, quantities or magnitudes not expressible
by means of finite hence unitary fractions; roots, for example, whose value can-
not be determined in the finite terms of the unit. (Only square roots of square
numbers are rational.) The most significant work on irrational numbers occurred
in Plato’s lifetime, see the discoveries of Theodorus of Cyrene, as mentioned in
the Theaetetus (147d–148b). In particular cf. ἄπειροι τὸ πλῆθος in regard to
roots, (Theaetetus, 147d6, “unlimited in multitude”) with the above rendering
πλήθει ἄπειρα (Parmenides, 158b).
e “ Οὐκοῦν καὶ ὅμοιά τε καὶ ἀνόμοια ἀλλήλοις τε καὶ ἑαυτοῖς; ”

“ πῇ δή; ”
“ ᾗ μέν που ἄπειρά ἐστι κατὰ τὴν ἑαυτῶν φύσιν πάντα, ταὐτὸν
πεπονθότα ἂν εἴη ταύτῃ.”
“ καὶ μὴν ᾗ γε ἅπαντα πέρατος μετέχει, καὶ ταύτῃ πάντ᾿ ἂν εἴη ταὐτὸν
πεπονθότα.”
“ ᾗ δέ γε πεπερασμένα τε εἶναι καὶ ἄπειρα πέπονθεν, ἐναντία πάθη
ἀλλήλοις ὄντα ταῦτα τὰ πάθη πέπονθεν.”
159 “ ναί.”
“ τὰ δ᾿ ἐναντία γε ὡς οἷόν τε ἀνομοιότατα.”
“ κατὰ μὲν ἄρα ἑκάτερον τὸ πάθος ὅμοια ἂν εἴη αὐτά τε αὑτοῖς
καὶ ἀλλήλοις, κατὰ δ᾿ ἀμφότερα ἀμφοτέρως ἐναντιώτατά τε καὶ
ἀνομοιότατα.”
“ οὕτω δὴ τὰ ἄλλα αὐτά τε αὑτοῖς καὶ ἀλλήλοις ὅμοιά τε καὶ ἀνόμοια
ἂν εἴη.”
“ οὕτως.”
“ καὶ ταὐτὰ δὴ καὶ ἕτερα ἀλλήλων, καὶ κινούμενα καὶ ἑστῶτα, καὶ
b πάντα τὰ ἐναντία πάθη οὐκέτι χαλεπῶς εὑρήσομεν πεπονθότα τἆλλα
τοῦ ἑνός, ἐπείπερ καὶ ταῦτα ἐφάνη πεπονθότα.”
“ ὀρθῶς λέγεις.”
LIKENESS/UNLIKENESS
“So are they not also both like and unlike each other and themselves?” e
“Insofar as they are all unlimited somehow according to their own
nature, they would all be affected in the same way.”
“And, insofar as they all partake of limit, in this way, too, they would
all be so affected as to be ‘the same’.”
— “How could it be otherwise?”
“However, insofar as they are both limited and unlimited, they would
suffer qualifications that are opposites of each other.” 159
— “Yes.”
“But opposites are as unlike as possible.”
— “To be sure.”
“So in respect to either of these two qualifications they would be like
themselves and each other, but in respect of both qualifications they
would be both utterly opposite and unlike themselves and each other.”
— “Probably so.”
“Thus, the others themselves would be both likes and unlikes both of
themselves and of each other.”
— “So they would be.”
ALL QUALIFICATIONS
“And, since in fact they were shown to have these [particular] qualifi-
cations, we shall have no further difficulty in finding that the things
‘other than the one’ are both the same as and different from each
other, both in motion and at rest, and have undergone all the opposite b
qualifications.”
— “You are right.”
“ Οὐκοῦν, εἰ ταῦτα μὲν ἤδη ἐῷμεν111 ὡς φανερά, ἐπισκοποῖμεν δὲ

πάλιν, ἓν εἰ ἔστιν, ἆρα καὶ οὐχ οὕτως ἔχει τὰ ἄλλα τοῦ ἑνὸς ἢ οὕτω
μόνον; ”
“ λέγωμεν δὴ ἐξ ἀρχῆς, ἓν εἰ ἔστι, τί χρὴ τὰ ἄλλα τοῦ ἑνὸς
πεπονθέναι.”
“ λέγωμεν γάρ.”
“ ἆρ᾿ οὖν οὐ χωρὶς μὲν τὸ ἓν τῶν ἄλλων, χωρὶς δὲ τἆλλα τοῦ ἑνὸς εἶναι; ”
“ τί δή; ”
c “ ὅτι που οὐκ ἔστι παρὰ ταῦτα ἕτερον, ὃ ἄλλο μέν ἐστι τοῦ ἑνός, ἄλλο
δὲ τῶν ἄλλων. πάντα γὰρ εἴρηται, ὅταν ῥηθῇ τό τε ἓν καὶ τἆλλα.”
“ πάντα γάρ.”
“ οὐκ ἄρα ἔτ᾿ ἔστιν ἕτερον τούτων, ἐν ᾧ τό τε ἓν ἂν εἴη τῷ αὐτῷ καὶ
τἆλλα.”
“ οὐδέποτε ἄρα ἐν ταὐτῷ ἐστι τὸ ἓν καὶ τἆλλα.”
“ χωρὶς ἄρα; ”
“ ναί.”
“ οὐδὲ μὴν μόριά γε ἔχειν φαμὲν τὸ ὡς ἀληθῶς ἕν.”
“ οὔτ᾿ ἄρα ὅλον εἴη ἂν τὸ ἓν ἐν τοῖς ἄλλοις οὔτε μόρια αὐτοῦ, εἰ χωρίς
τέ ἐστι τῶν ἄλλων καὶ μόρια μὴ ἔχει.112 ”
d “ πῶς γάρ; ”
“ οὐδενὶ ἄρα τρόπῳ μετέχοι ἂν τἆλλα τοῦ ἑνός, μήτε κατὰ μόριόν τι
αὐτοῦ μήτε κατὰ ὅλον μετέχοντα.”
111 ἐῷμεν] ἐῶμεν BT.

112 ἔχει] ἔχῃ BT.
FOURTH ARGUMENT
“Well, then, if we now leave these [findings] as evident, might we also
examine in turn whether, ‘if one is’,113 the things ‘other than one’ are
only in this way and not in any other way?”
— “By all means.”
“Let’s state from the beginning what qualifications things ‘other than
the one’ must have, ‘if one is’.”
— “Yes, let us.”
“So is not the one separate from the others, and the others separate
from the one?”
— “Why?”
“Because presumably there is besides them nothing else that is other
than the one and other than the others, for all things have been men- c
tioned whenever both the one and the others are mentioned.”
— “Yes, all things.”
“So there is no further thing different from them, in which both the
one and the others might be in the same.”
— “No, there is not.”
“So the one and the others are never in the same.”
“So they are separate?”
— “Yes.”
“And further, we say that what is truly one does not have parts.”
“So neither could the one be in the others as a whole, nor could parts of
it be in them, if it is separate from the others and does not have parts.”
“So the others could in no way partake of the one, neither of any part d
of it, nor of it as a whole.”
113 There seems to be an inconsistency in the wording of this hypothesis (ἓν εἰ

ἔστιν) when compared to the hypothesis of Argument I, “if it is one” (εἰ ἕν
ἐστιν). The wording here appears to allude to the hypothesis of Argument II,
“if one is.” However, as Argument IV shows, the object “others than one”
is not associable with the “one plus being” composite of Argument II; in
particular, 159d7 demonstrates that it is impossible for the “others than one”
to be many, thus they are not a “weaving together” but merely spoken of as
a simple attribute.
“ οὐδαμῇ ἄρα ἓν τἆλλά ἐστιν, οὐδ᾿ ἔχει ἐν ἑαυτοῖς ἓν οὐδέν.”

“ οὐδ᾿ ἄρα πολλά ἐστι τἆλλα. ἓν γὰρ ἂν ἦν ἕκαστον αὐτῶν μόριον τοῦ
ὅλου, εἰ πολλὰ ἦν· νῦν δὲ οὔτε ἓν οὔτε πολλὰ οὔτε ὅλον οὔτε μόριά
ἐστι τἆλλα τοῦ ἑνός, ἐπειδὴ αὐτοῦ οὐδαμῇ μετέχει.”
“ οὐδ᾿ ἄρα δύο οὐδὲ τρία οὔτε αὐτά ἐστι τὰ ἄλλα οὔτε ἔνεστιν114 ἐν
e αὐτοῖς, εἴπερ τοῦ ἑνὸς πανταχῇ στέρεται.”
“ οὕτως.”
“ Οὐδὲ ὅμοια ἄρα καὶ ἀνόμοια οὔτε αὐτά ἐστι τῷ ἑνὶ τὰ ἄλλα,
οὔτε ἔνεστιν115 ἐν αὐτοῖς ὁμοιότης καὶ ἀνομοιότης. εἰ γὰρ ὅμοια καὶ
ἀνόμοια αὐτὰ εἴη ἢ ἔχοι ἐν ἑαυτοῖς ὁμοιότητα καὶ ἀνομοιότητα, δύο
που εἴδη ἐναντία ἀλλήλοις ἔχοι ἂν ἐν ἑαυτοῖς τὰ ἄλλα τοῦ ἑνός.”
“ ἦν δέ γε ἀδύνατον δυοῖν τινοῖν μετέχειν ἃ μηδ᾿ ἑνὸς μετέχοι.”
160 “ οὔτ᾿ ἄρα ὅμοια οὔτ᾿ ἀνόμοιά ἐστιν οὔτ᾿ ἀμφότερα τἆλλα. ὅμοια μὲν
γὰρ ἂν ὄντα ἢ ἀνόμοια ἑνὸς ἂν τοῦ ἑτέρου εἴδους μετέχοι, ἀμφότερα
δὲ ὄντα δυοῖν τοῖν ἐναντίοιν· ταῦτα δὲ ἀδύνατον ἐφάνη.”
“ Οὐδ᾿ ἄρα τὰ αὐτὰ οὐδ᾿ ἕτερα, οὐδὲ κινούμενα οὐδὲ ἑστῶτα, οὐδὲ
γιγνόμενα οὐδὲ ἀπολλύμενα, οὐδὲ μείζω οὐδὲ ἐλάττω οὐδὲ ἴσα· οὐδὲ
ἄλλο οὐδὲν πέπονθε τῶν τοιούτων. εἰ γάρ τι τοιοῦτον πεπονθέναι
ὑπομένει τὰ ἄλλα, καὶ ἑνὸς καὶ δυοῖν καὶ τριῶν καὶ περιττοῦ καὶ
b ἀρτίου μεθέξει, ὧν αὐτοῖς ἀδύνατον ἐφάνη μετέχειν τοῦ ἑνός γε πάντῃ
πάντως στερομένοις.”
114 ἔνεστιν] ἕν ἐστιν BT.

115 ἔνεστιν] ἕν ἐστιν BT.
OTHERS LACK ONENESS

“In no way, then, are the others one, nor do they have any oneness in
themselves.”
— “No.”
“So neither are the others many, for if they were, each of them would be
one part of a whole. But as it is, things other than one are neither one
nor many, neither whole nor parts, since they in no way partake of it.”
— “Right.”
“Thus, the others themselves are neither two nor three, nor is two or
three present in them, if indeed they are entirely deprived of the one.” e
— “Just so.”
“So the others themselves neither are like and unlike the one, nor is
likeness and unlikeness in them. For if they themselves were like and
unlike, or had likeness and unlikeness in themselves, things other than
the one would presumably have in themselves two Forms opposite to
each other.”116
“But it was impossible for what could not partake of any one thing to
partake of any two.”
“So the others are neither like, nor unlike, nor both. For if they were
like or unlike, they would partake of one of the two Forms, and if they 160
were both, they would partake of two opposites. But that was shown
to be impossible.”
— “True.”
“So they are neither the same nor different, neither in motion nor at
rest, neither coming to be nor ceasing to be, neither greater, nor less,
nor equal. Nor do they have any other qualifications of this sort. For
if the others are subject to any qualification of this sort, they will also
partake of one and two and three and odd and even, but it was shown
that it is impossible for them to partake of these things, since they are
in every way utterly deprived of the one.” b
— “Very true.”
116 Again, there are two lessons here, and we follow the same as above.
“ οὕτω δὴ ἓν εἰ ἔστιν, πάντα τέ ἐστι τὸ ἓν καὶ οὐδὲ ἕν117 ἐστι καὶ πρὸς
ἑαυτὸ καὶ πρὸς τὰ ἄλλα ὡσαύτως.”
“ παντελῶς μὲν οὖν.”
117 οὐδὲ ἕν T: οὐδέν B.

Text and Translation: 160b 191
FINAL CONCLUSION: ‘IF ONE IS’

“Therefore, ‘if one is’, the one both is all things and is not even one
thing, both in relation to itself and, likewise, in relation to the others.”
— “Entirely so.”
“ Εἶεν· εἰ δὲ δὴ μὴ ἔστι τὸ ἕν, τί χρὴ συμβαίνειν, ἆρ᾿ οὐ σκεπτέον

μετὰ τοῦτο118; ”
“ σκεπτέον γάρ.”
“ τίς οὖν ἂν εἴη αὕτη ἡ ὑπόθεσις, εἰ ἓν μὴ ἔστιν; ἆρά τι διαφέρει
τῆσδε, εἰ μὴ ἓν μὴ ἔστιν; ”
“ διαφέρει μέντοι.”
c “ διαφέρει μόνον, ἢ καὶ πᾶν τοὐναντίον ἐστὶν εἰπεῖν, εἰ μὴ ἓν μὴ ἔστι
τοῦ εἰ ἓν μὴ ἔστιν; ”
“ πᾶν τοὐναντίον.”
“ τί δ᾿ εἴ τις λέγοι, εἰ μέγεθος μὴ ἔστιν ἢ σμικρότης μὴ ἔστιν ἤ τι
ἄλλο τῶν τοιούτων, ἆρα ἐφ᾿ ἑκάστου ἂν δηλοῖ ὅτι ἕτερόν τι λέγοι τὸ
μὴ ὄν; ”
“ οὐκοῦν καὶ νῦν δηλοῖ ὅτι ἕτερον λέγει τῶν ἄλλων τὸ μὴ ὄν, ὅταν εἴπῃ
ἓν εἰ μὴ ἔστι, καὶ ἴσμεν ὃ λέγει; ”
“ ἴσμεν.”
d “ πρῶτον μὲν ἄρα γνωστόν τι λέγει, ἔπειτα ἕτερον τῶν ἄλλων, ὅταν
εἴπῃ ἕν, εἴτε τὸ εἶναι αὐτῷ προσθεὶς εἴτε τὸ μὴ εἶναι· οὐδὲν γὰρ119
ἧττον γιγνώσκεται, τί τὸ λεγόμενον μὴ εἶναι, καὶ ὅτι διάφορον τῶν
ἄλλων. ἢ οὔ; ”
“ ὧδε ἄρα λεκτέον ἐξ ἀρχῆς, ἓν εἰ μὴ ἔστι, τί χρὴ εἶναι. πρῶτον μὲν
οὖν αὐτῷ τοῦτο ὑπάρχειν δεῖ, ὡς ἔοικεν, εἶναι αὐτοῦ ἐπιστήμην, ἢ μηδὲ
ὅ τι λέγεται γιγνώσκεσθαι, ὅταν τις εἴπῃ ἓν εἰ μὴ ἔστιν.”
“ oὐκοῦν καὶ τὰ ἄλλα ἕτερα αὐτοῦ εἶναι, ἢ μηδὲ ἐκεῖνο ἕτερον τῶν
ἄλλων λέγεσθαι; ”
e “ καὶ ἑτεροιότης ἄρα ἐστὶν αὐτῷ πρὸς τῇ ἐπιστήμῃ. οὐ γὰρ τὴν τῶν
ἄλλων ἑτεροιότητα λέγει, ὅταν τὸ ἓν ἕτερον τῶν ἄλλων λέγῃ, ἀλλὰ
τὴν ἐκείνου.”
118 τοῦτο T: ταῦτα B.

119 γὰρ apogr.: om. Tb (οὐδὲν γὰρ . . . μὴ εἶναι om. B: add. b in marg.).
FIFTH ARGUMENT
DIFFERENCE
“So far, so good. But should we not examine next what must follow
‘if the one is not’?”
— “Yes, we should.”
“What then, would this hypothesis mean: ‘if one is not’? Does it differ
at all from this hypothesis: ‘if not-one is not’?”
— “Of course it differs.”
“Does it merely differ, or is saying ‘if not-one is not’ the complete c
opposite of saying ‘if one is not’?”
— “The complete opposite.”
“What if someone were to say ‘if largeness is not’ or ‘if smallness is not’
or anything else of that sort, would it not be clear that in each case he
is speaking of something different that is not?”
“And so in the present case, too, whenever he says ‘if one is not’, isn’t
it clear that that which he says ‘is not’ is different from other things,
and don’t we recognize what he means?”
— “Yes, we do.”
“So in the first place, he speaks of something knowable, and in the
second, of something different from the others when he says ‘one’, d
whether he adds being or not being to it. For whatever is said ‘not to
be’ is nonetheless known, and also that it is different from the others.
Is it not?”
“So at this point, we must state from the beginning ‘if one is not’ what
must be [the case]. First, as it seems, this must pertain to it, [namely]
that there is knowledge of it; otherwise, it would not be known what
is meant whenever someone says ‘if one is not’.”
— “True.”
“And so the others must be different from it, or else it cannot be spoken
of as different from the others.”
“So ‘difference in kind’ belongs to it in addition to knowledge [of it].
For when someone says that ‘the one is different from the others’, he e
refers to its difference in kind, not to that of the others.”
— “So it appears.”
“ καὶ μὴν τοῦ γε ἐκείνου καὶ τοῦ τινὸς καὶ τούτου καὶ τούτῳ καὶ
τούτων καὶ πάντων τῶν τοιούτων μετέχει τὸ μὴ ὂν ἕν· οὐ γὰρ ἂν τὸ ἓν
ἐλέγετο οὐδ᾿ ἂν τοῦ ἑνὸς ἕτερα, οὐδ᾿ ἐκείνῳ ἄν τι ἦν οὐδ᾿ ἐκείνου, οὐδ᾿
ἄν τι ἐλέγετο, εἰ μήτε τοῦ τινὸς αὐτῷ μετῆν μήτε τῶν ἄλλων τούτων.”
“ ὀ ρθῶς.”
161 “ εἶναι μὲν δὴ τῷ ἑνὶ οὐχ οἷόν τε, εἴπερ γε μὴ ἔστι, μετέχειν δὲ πολλῶν
οὐδὲν κωλύει, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἀνάγκη, εἴπερ τό γε ἓν ἐκεῖνο καὶ μὴ ἄλλο
μὴ ἔστιν. εἰ μέντοι μήτε τὸ ἓν μήτ᾿ ἐκεῖνο μὴ ἔσται, ἀλλὰ περὶ ἄλλου
του ὁ λόγος, οὐδὲ φθέγγεσθαι δεῖ οὐδέν· εἰ δὲ τὸ ἓν ἐκεῖνο καὶ μὴ
ἄλλο ὑπόκειται μὴ εἶναι, καὶ τοῦ ἐκείνου καὶ ἄλλων πολλῶν ἀνάγκη
αὐτῷ μετεῖναι.”
“ Καὶ ἀνομοιότης ἄρα ἐστὶν αὐτῷ πρὸς τὰ ἄλλα. τὰ γὰρ ἄλλα τοῦ
ἑνὸς ἕτερα ὄντα ἑτεροῖα καὶ εἴη ἄν.”
“ ναί.”
“ τὰ δ᾿ ἑτεροῖα οὐκ ἀλλοῖα; ”
“ τὰ δ᾿ ἀλλοῖα οὐκ ἀνόμοια; ”
b “ ἀνόμοια μὲν οὖν.”
“ οὐκοῦν εἴπερ τῷ ἑνὶ ἀνόμοιά ἐστι, δῆλον ὅτι ἀνομοίῳ τά γε ἀνόμοια
ἀνόμοια ἂν εἴη.”
“ δῆλον.”
“ εἴη δὴ ἂν καὶ τῷ ἑνὶ ἀνομοιότης, πρὸς ἣν τὰ ἄλλα ἀνόμοια αὐτῷ
ἐστίν.”
“ εἰ δὲ δὴ τῶν ἄλλων ἀνομοιότης ἔστιν αὐτῷ, ἆρ᾿ οὐκ ἀνάγκη ἑαυτοῦ
ὁμοιότητα αὐτῷ εἶναι; ”
“ πῶς; ”
“ εἰ ἑνὸς ἀνομοιότης ἔστι τῷ ἑνί, οὐκ ἄν που περὶ τοῦ τοιούτου ὁ
λόγος εἴη οἵου τοῦ ἑνός, οὐδ᾿ ἂν ἡ ὑπόθεσις εἴη περὶ ἑνός, ἀλλὰ περὶ
ἄλλου ἢ ἑνός.”
c “ πάνυ γε.”
“ οὐ δεῖ δέ γε.”
“ οὐ δῆτα.”
“Furthermore, the ‘one that is not’ partakes of ‘that’, ‘of something’,

‘of this’, ‘to this’, ‘of these’, and of all others of this sort. For if it did
not partake either of ‘something’ or of the other things [i.e., notions],
the one could not be spoken of, nor could the things other than one,
nor could anything belong to it nor be of it, nor could it be said to be
anything.”
— “That’s right.” 161
“The one cannot be, if in fact it is not. Still, nothing prevents it from
partaking of many [notions]. However, it must in fact even do so [i.e.,
partake], if it is indeed that [particular] one and not some other [thing]
that is not. But if it will be neither the one nor that [other thing] which
is not, and our account is about something else, then nothing should
be uttered at all. But if it is ‘that one’ and not something else that is
supposed not to be, it must partake of that and of many other [notions].”
— “Yes, certainly.”
LIKE/UNLIKE
“So unlikeness, too, belongs to it in relation to the others. For things
‘other than the one’, since they are different, would also be different
in kind.”
— “Yes.”
“And are not things that are ‘different in kind’ not also other in kind?”
“Are not things ‘other in kind’ unlike?”
— “Indeed, unlike.” b
“Then, if in fact they are unlike the one, obviously what is unlike
would be unlike an unlike.”
— “Obviously.”
“So the one would also have unlikeness, in relation to which the others
are unlike it.”
— “It seems this way.”
“But if it has unlikeness in regard to the others, must it not then have
likeness in regard to itself?”
— “How so?”
“If the one has unlikeness in regard to the one, the account would pre-
sumably not be about such a thing as the one, nor would the hypothesis
be about one, but about something other than one.”
— “Certainly.” c
“But that cannot be.”
— “No, it cannot.”
“ δεῖ ἄρα ὁμοιότητα τῷ ἑνὶ αὐτοῦ ἑαυτῷ εἶναι.”

“ δεῖ.”
“ καὶ μὴν οὐδ᾿ αὖ ἴσον γ᾿ ἐστὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις. εἰ γὰρ εἴη ἴσον, εἴη τε
ἂν ἤδη καὶ ὅμοιον ἂν εἴη αὐτοῖς κατὰ τὴν ἰσότητα· ταῦτα δ᾿ ἀμφότερα
ἀδύνατα, εἴπερ μὴ ἔστιν ἕν.”
“ ἀδύνατα.”
“ ἐπειδὴ δὲ οὐκ ἔστι τοῖς ἄλλοις ἴσον, ἆρα οὐκ ἀνάγκη καὶ τἆλλα
ἐκείνῳ μὴ ἴσα εἶναι; ”
“ τὰ δὲ μὴ ἴσα οὐκ ἄνισα; ”
“ ναί.”
“ τὰ δὲ ἄνισα οὐ τῷ ἀνίσῳ ἄνισα; ”
d “ καὶ ἀνισότητος δὴ μετέχει τὸ ἕν, πρὸς ἣν τἆλλα αὐτῷ ἐστιν ἄνισα; ”
“ μετέχει.”
“ ἀλλὰ μέντοι ἀνισότητός γ᾿ ἐστὶ μέγεθός τε καὶ σμικρότης.”
“ ἔστιν ἄρα καὶ μέγεθός τε καὶ σμικρότης τῷ τοιούτῳ ἑνί; ”
“ μέγεθος μὴν καὶ σμικρότης ἀεὶ ἀφέστατον ἀλλήλοιν.”
“ μεταξὺ ἄρα τι αὐτοῖν ἀεί ἐστιν.”
“ ἔστιν.”
“ ἔχεις οὖν τι ἄλλο εἰπεῖν μεταξὺ αὐτοῖν ἢ ἰσότητα; ”
“ οὔκ, ἀλλὰ τοῦτο.”
“ ὅτῳ ἄρα ἔστι μέγεθος καὶ σμικρότης, ἔστι καὶ ἰσότης αὐτῷ μεταξὺ
τούτοιν οὖσα.”
e “ τῷ δὴ120 ἑνὶ μὴ ὄντι, ὡς ἔοικε, καὶ ἰσότητος ἂν μετείη καὶ μεγέθους
καὶ σμικρότητος.”
120 δὴ Par. 1810, Heindorf from Ficinus: δὲ BT.

Text and Translation: 161c–e 197
“Therefore, likeness must belong to the one in regard to itself.”

— “It must.”
EQUAL/UNEQUAL
“Furthermore, it is not equal to the others either, for if it were equal,
it would then be like them in respect to equality, and henceforth be.
But both of these are impossible if, in fact, ‘one is not’.”
“Then, since it is not equal to the others, are not the others, too, neces-
sarily not equal to it?”
“Are not things that are not equal unequal?”
— “Yes.”
“And are not things unequal unequal to what is unequal?”
“So the one partakes also of inequality, in relation to which the others d
are unequal to it?”
— “Yes, it does.”
“But largeness and smallness belong to inequality.”
— “They do.”
“So do largeness and smallness also pertain to this kind of one?”
— “Quite likely.”
“Yet largeness and smallness always keep furthest apart from each other.”
“So there is always something between them.”
— “There is.”
“Then can you suggest anything between them other than equality?”
— “No, only that.”
“Therefore anything which has largeness and smallness also has equal-
ity, and this is between these two.”
“As it seems, the one, even ‘if it is not’, would [still] partake of equality, e
largeness, and smallness.”
“ Καὶ μὴν καὶ οὐσίας γε δεῖ αὐτὸ μετέχειν πῃ.”

“ πῶς δή; ”
“ ἔχειν αὐτὸ δεῖ οὕτως ὡς λέγομεν. εἰ γὰρ μὴ οὕτως ἔχοι,121 οὐκ ἂν
ἀληθῆ λέγοιμεν ἡμεῖς λέγοντες τὸ ἓν μὴ εἶναι· εἰ δὲ ἀληθῆ, δῆλον
ὅτι ὄντα αὐτὰ λέγομεν. ἢ οὐχ οὕτως; ”
“ οὕτω μὲν οὖν.”
162 “ ἐπειδὴ δέ φαμεν ἀληθῆ λέγειν, ἀνάγκη ἡμῖν φάναι καὶ ὄντα λέγειν.”
“ ἔστιν ἄρα, ὡς ἔοικε, τὸ ἓν οὐκ ὄν. εἰ γὰρ μὴ ἔσται μὴ ὄν, ἀλλά τι τοῦ
εἶναι ἀνήσει πρὸς τὸ μὴ εἶναι, εὐθὺς ἔσται ὄν.”
“ δεῖ ἄρα αὐτὸ δεσμὸν ἔχειν τοῦ μὴ εἶναι τὸ εἶναι μὴ ὄν, εἰ μέλλει
μὴ εἶναι, ὁμοίως ὥσπερ τὸ ὂν τὸ μὴ ὂν ἔχειν μὴ εἶναι, ἵνα τελέως αὖ
ᾖ.122 οὕτως γὰρ ἂν τό τε ὂν μάλιστ᾿ ἂν εἴη καὶ τὸ μὴ ὂν οὐκ ἂν εἴη,
b μετέχοντα τὸ μὲν ὂν οὐσίας τοῦ εἶναι ὄν, μὴ οὐσίας δὲ τοῦ μὴ123 εἶναι
μὴ ὄν, εἰ μέλλει τελέως εἶναι, τὸ δὲ μὴ ὂν μὴ οὐσίας μὲν τοῦ μὴ εἶναι
ὄν,124 οὐσίας δὲ τοῦ εἶναι μὴ ὄν, εἰ καὶ τὸ μὴ ὂν αὖ τελέως μὴ ἔσται.”
“ οὐκοῦν ἐπείπερ τῷ τε ὄντι τοῦ μὴ εἶναι καὶ τῷ μὴ ὄντι τοῦ εἶναι
μέτεστι, καὶ τῷ ἑνί, ἐπειδὴ οὐκ ἔστι, τοῦ εἶναι ἀνάγκη μετεῖναι εἰς
τὸ μὴ εἶναι.”
“ καὶ οὐσία δὴ φαίνεται τῷ ἑνί, εἰ μὴ ἔστιν.”
“ καὶ μὴ οὐσία ἄρα, εἴπερ μὴ ἔστιν.”
“ πῶς δ’ οὔ; ”
121 ἔχοι Coisl.: ἔχῃ BT.

122 αὖ εἶναι ᾖ BT: αὖ ᾖ (or αὖ ὂν ᾖ) Shorey.
123 μὴ add. Shorey.
124 ὄν Shorey: μὴ ὄν BT.
BEING/NOT-BEING
“Furthermore, it must also in some way partake of being.”
— “How is that?”
“It must be as we are describing it, for if it is not in this way, we would
not be speaking the truth when we say that ‘the one is not’. But if we
do speak the truth, it is clear that we are saying ‘things that are’. Is
this not so?”
— “It is indeed so.” 162
“And since we claim to speak the truth, we must claim also to speak
of ‘things that are’.”
“It appears, therefore, that the ‘one that is not’ is. For if it will not be
not-being, that is to say, if in some way it will let go of being [not-
being] towards not being [not-being], then straightaway it will be that
which is.”
“So if it [i.e., the one] is ‘not to be’, not-being must have a bond to
being not-being, just as, in turn, the being has a bond to not being not-
being, in order to completely be. This, above all, would be how ‘what
is’ is, and how ‘what is not’ is not. On the one hand, ‘what is’, if it is
completely to be, partakes of being in order to be a thing that is, and
[partakes] of not-being in order not to be a thing that is not, and, on b
the other hand, ‘what is not’, if what is not is completely not to be,
partakes of not-being in order to not be a thing that is, and of being
in order to be a thing that is not.”125
“Accordingly, since in fact ‘what is’ partakes of not-being, and ‘what is
not’ partakes of being, so, too, the one, since ‘it is not’, must partake
of being in order not to be.”
“So it appears that the one, ‘if it is not’, also has being.”
“And so also not-being, if indeed ‘it is not’.”
125 A good example: the same thing must participate in opposing, that is, com-
present Forms. Participation means participation in contraries, which must
be available thus present to the mind.
“ οἷόν τε οὖν τὸ ἔχον πως μὴ ἔχειν οὕτω, μὴ μεταβάλλον ἐκ ταύτης

τῆς ἕξεως; ”
c “ πᾶν ἄρα τὸ τοιοῦτον μεταβολὴν σημαίνει, ὃ ἂν οὕτω τε καὶ μὴ οὕτως
ἔχῃ.”
“ μεταβολὴ δὲ κίνησις· ἢ τί φήσομεν; ”
“ κίνησις.”
“ οὐκοῦν τὸ ἓν ὄν τε καὶ οὐκ ὂν ἐφάνη; ”
“ ναί.”
“ οὕτως ἄρα καὶ οὐχ οὕτως ἔχον φαίνεται.”
“ καὶ κινούμενον ἄρα τὸ οὐκ ὂν ἓν πέφανται, ἐπείπερ καὶ μεταβολὴν
ἐκ τοῦ εἶναι ἐπὶ τὸ μὴ εἶναι ἔχον.”
“ ἀλλὰ μὴν εἰ μηδαμοῦ γέ ἐστι τῶν ὄντων, ὡς οὐκ ἔστιν εἴπερ μὴ ἔστιν,
οὐδ᾿ ἂν μεθίσταιτό ποθέν ποι.”
“ οὐκ ἄρα τῷ γε μεταβαίνειν κινοῖτ᾿ ἄν.”
d “ οὐδὲ μὴν ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ ἂν στρέφοιτο· ταὐτοῦ γὰρ οὐδαμοῦ ἅπτεται.
ὂν γὰρ ἐστὶ τὸ ταὐτόν· τὸ δὲ μὴ ὂν ἔν τῳ τῶν ὄντων ἀδύνατον εἶναι.”
“ οὐκ ἄρα τὸ ἕν γε μὴ ὂν στρέφεσθαι ἂν δύναιτο ἐν ἐκείνῳ ἐν ᾧ μὴ
ἔστιν.”
“ οὐδὲ μὴν ἀλλοιοῦταί που τὸ ἓν ἑαυτοῦ, οὔτε τὸ ὂν οὔτε τὸ μὴ ὄν. οὐ
γὰρ ἂν ἦν ὁ λόγος ἔτι περὶ τοῦ ἑνός, εἴπερ ἠλλοιοῦτο αὐτὸ ἑαυτοῦ,
ἀλλὰ περὶ ἄλλου τινός.”
e “ εἰ δὲ μήτ᾿ ἀλλοιοῦται μήτε ἐν ταὐτῷ στρέφεται μήτε μεταβαίνει,
ἆρ᾿ ἄν πῃ ἔτι κινοῖτο; ”
“ τό γε μὴν ἀκίνητον ἀνάγκη ἡσυχίαν ἄγειν, τὸ δὲ ἡσυχάζον ἑστάναι.”
MOTION/REST
“Can something that is in some state not be in that state, without
changing from that state?”
— “It cannot.”
“So every thing of that sort, whatever both is in some state and not in c
that state, signifies change.”
“But change is motion—or what shall we call it?”
— “Motion.”
“Now wasn’t the one shown both to be and not to be?”
— “Yes.”
“Therefore, it appears to be both: in such a state and not in such a state.”
— “So it appears.”
“So the ‘one that is not’ has been shown also to move, if indeed it has
been shown to undergo change, too, from being [in such a state] to
not being [in such a state].”
— “Very likely.”
“However, if it is nowhere among the ‘things that are’—as it is not,
if, indeed, it is not—it would not move from one place to another.”
— “Obviously not.”
“So it would not move by changing places.”
“Nor would it revolve in the same place, because it nowhere touches d
the same. For ‘what is the same’ is a thing that is, and ‘what is not’
cannot be in any of the ‘things that are’.”
— “No, it cannot.”
“Therefore, the one, ‘if it is not’, would not be able to revolve in that
in which it is not.”
“And, indeed, the one, whether it is or is not, presumably is not altered
from itself. For then the account would no longer be about the one, but
about something other than it, if in fact the one were altered from itself.”
“But if it is not altered and does not revolve in the same place and does e
not change places, could it still move somehow?”
“But surely, what is unmoved necessarily holds still, and what holds
still is at rest.”
“ τὸ ἓν ἄρα, ὡς ἔοικεν, οὐκ ὂν ἕστηκέ τε καὶ κινεῖται.”

163 “ καὶ μὴν εἴπερ γε κινεῖται, μεγάλη ἀνάγκη αὐτῷ ἀλλοιοῦσθαι. ὅπῃ
γὰρ ἄν τι κινηθῇ, κατὰ τοσοῦτον οὐκέθ᾿ ὡσαύτως ἔχει ὡς εἶχεν, ἀλλ᾿
ἑτέρως.”
“ οὕτως.”
“ κινούμενον δὴ126 τὸ ἓν καὶ ἀλλοιοῦται.”
“ ναί.”
“ καὶ μὴν μηδαμῇ γε κινούμενον οὐδαμῇ ἂν ἀλλοιοῖτο.”
“ ᾗ μὲν ἄρα κινεῖται τὸ οὐκ ὂν ἕν, ἀλλοιοῦται· ᾗ δὲ μὴ κινεῖται, οὐκ
ἀλλοιοῦται.”
“ τὸ ἓν ἄρα μὴ ὂν ἀλλοιοῦταί τε καὶ οὐκ ἀλλοιοῦται.”
“ τὸ δ᾿ ἀλλοιούμενον ἆρ᾿ οὐκ ἀνάγκη γίγνεσθαι μὲν ἕτερον ἢ πρότερον,
b ἀπόλλυσθαι δὲ ἐκ τῆς προτέρας ἕξεως· τὸ δὲ μὴ ἀλλοιούμενον μήτε
γίγνεσθαι μήτε ἀπόλλυσθαι; ”
“ καὶ τὸ ἓν ἄρα μὴ ὂν ἀλλοιούμενον μὲν γίγνεταί τε καὶ ἀπόλλυται,
μὴ ἀλλοιούμενον δὲ οὔτε γίγνεται οὔτε ἀπόλλυται· καὶ οὕτω τὸ ἓν
μὴ ὂν γίγνεταί τε καὶ ἀπόλλυται, καὶ οὔτε γίγνεται οὔτ᾿ ἀπόλλυται.”
126 δὴ Heindorf from Ficinus: δὲ BT.

“So, as it seems, the one, ‘if it is not’, is both at rest and in motion.”
ALTERED/NOT ALTERED
“And surely, if in fact it moves, it certainly must be altered, for if any-
thing moves in any fashion, to this extent it is no longer in the same 163
state as it was, but in a different state.”
— “Just so.”
“Then, since it moves, the one is also altered.”
— “Yes.”
“And yet, since it in no way moves, it is in no way altered.”
“So insofar as the ‘one that is not’ moves, it is altered, but insofar as it
does not move, it is not altered.”
“Therefore the one, ‘if it is not’, is both altered and not altered.”
— “It appears so.”
“Must not that which is altered come to be different from what it was
before, and also cease to be in its previous state, and must not that b
which is not altered neither come to be nor cease to be?”
“Therefore, the one, too, ‘if it is not’, both comes to be and ceases to
be, if it is altered, and neither comes to be nor ceases to be, if it is not
altered. And thus, the one, ‘if it is not’, both comes to be and ceases to
be, and neither comes to be nor ceases to be.”
— “Quite so.”
“ Αὖθις δὴ ἐπὶ τὴν ἀρχὴν ἴωμεν πάλιν ὀψόμενοι εἰ ταὐτὰ ἡμῖν

φανεῖται ἅπερ καὶ νῦν, ἢ ἕτερα.”
c “ ἀλλὰ χρή.” “ οὐκοῦν ἓν εἰ μὴ ἔστι, φαμέν, τί χρὴ περὶ αὐτοῦ
ξυμβαίνειν; ”
“ ναί.”
“ τὸ δὲ μὴ ἔστιν ὅταν λέγωμεν, ἆρα μή τι ἄλλο σημαίνει ἢ οὐσίας
ἀπουσίαν τούτῳ ᾧ ἂν φῶμεν μὴ εἶναι; ”
“ οὐδὲν ἄλλο.”
“ πότερον οὖν, ὅταν φῶμεν μὴ εἶναί τι, πὼς οὐκ εἶναί φαμεν αὐτό, πὼς
δὲ εἶναι; ἢ τοῦτο τὸ μὴ ἔστι λεγόμενον ἁπλῶς σημαίνει ὅτι οὐδαμῶς
οὐδαμῇ ἔστιν οὐδέ πῃ μετέχει οὐσίας τό γε μὴ ὄν; ”
“ ἀπλούστατα μὲν οὖν.”
d “ οὔτε ἄρα εἶναι δύναιτο ἂν τὸ μὴ ὂν οὔτε ἄλλως οὐδαμῶς οὐσίας
μετέχειν.”
“ τὸ δὲ γίγνεσθαι καὶ τὸ ἀπόλλυσθαι μή τι ἄλλο ἦν127 ἢ τὸ μὲν οὐσίας
μεταλαμβάνειν, τὸ δ᾿ ἀπολλύναι οὐσίαν; ”
“ οὐδὲν ἄλλο.”
“ ᾧ δέ γε μηδὲν τούτου μέτεστιν, οὔτ᾿ ἂν λαμβάνοι οὔτ᾿ ἀπολλύοι
αὐτό.”
“ τῷ ἑνὶ ἄρα, ἐπειδὴ οὐδαμῇ ἔστιν, οὔτε ἑκτέον οὔτε ἀπαλλακτέον
οὔτε μεταληπτέον οὐσίας οὐδαμῶς.”
“ εἰκός.”
“ οὔτε ἄρα ἀπόλλυται τὸ μὴ ὂν ἓν οὔτε γίγνεται, ἐπείπερ οὐδαμῇ
μετέχει οὐσίας.”
e “ οὐδ᾿ ἄρ᾿ ἀλλοιοῦται οὐδαμῇ· ἤδη γὰρ ἂν γίγνοιτό τε καὶ ἀπολλύοιτο
τοῦτο πάσχον.”
“ εἰ δὲ μὴ ἀλλοιοῦται, οὐκ ἀνάγκη μηδὲ κινεῖσθαι; ”
127 ἦν Heindorf: ᾖ BT.

SIXTH ARGUMENT
“Let us once more go back to the beginning to see whether things
appear the same to us as they do now, or different.”
— “Indeed, we should.”
“So let us ask, ‘if one is not’, what consequences must follow for it?” c
— “Yes.”
ABSENCE OF BEING
“Whenever we say ‘is not’, does this signify anything other than the
absence of being for what we say is not?”
— “Nothing else.”
“When we say that ‘something is not’, are we saying that in a way ‘it is
not’, yet in a way ‘it is’? Or does the expression ‘is not’ signify simply
without qualification that ‘what is not’ in no sense or manner is, and
that it does not partake of being in any way whatsoever?”
— “Without any qualification whatsoever.”
“So ‘what is not’ could neither be, nor partake of being in any other d
way at all.”
— “No, it could not.”
“Were not ‘coming-to-be’ and ‘ceasing-to-be’ nothing other than tak-
ing part in being, in one case, and relinquishing being, in the other?”
— “Nothing other than this.”
“But what does not partake of this [i.e., being] at all could neither
obtain nor relinquish it.”
“So the one, since it in no way is, must neither have, nor relinquish,
nor take part in being in any way.”
— “That is plausible.”
“So the ‘one that is not’ neither ceases to be nor comes to be, since in
fact it does not partake of being in any way.”
NO CHANGE, MOVEMENT, REST, OR OTHER QUALIFICATIONS

“So neither is it altered in any way. For if it were to undergo this, it e
would then both come to be and cease to be.”
— “True.”
“And if it is not altered, necessarily it must not move either?”
“ οὐδὲ μὴν ἑστάναι φήσομεν τὸ μηδαμοῦ ὄν. τὸ γὰρ ἑστὸς ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ
τινι δεῖ ἀεὶ εἶναι.”
“ τῷ αὐτῷ·128 πῶς γὰρ οὔ; ”
“ οὕτω δὴ αὖ τὸ μὴ ὂν μήτε ποτὲ ἑστάναι μήτε κινεῖσθαι λέγωμεν.”
“ μὴ γὰρ οὖν.”
“ ἀλλὰ μὴν οὐδ᾿ ἔστι γε αὐτῷ τι τῶν ὄντων. ἤδη γὰρ ἂν του μετέχον
164 ὄντος οὐσίας μετέχοι.”
“ δῆλον.”
“ οὔτε ἄρα μέγεθος οὔτε σμικρότης οὔτε ἰσότης αὐτῷ ἔστιν.”
“ οὐδὲ μὴν ὁμοιότης γε οὐδὲ ἑτεροιότης οὔτε πρὸς αὑτὸ οὔτε πρὸς
τἆλλα εἴη ἂν αὐτῷ.”
“ τί δέ; τἆλλα ἔσθ᾿ ὅπως ἂν εἴη αὐτῷ, εἰ μηδὲν αὐτῷ δεῖ εἶναι; ”
“ οὔτε ἄρα ὅμοια οὔτε ἀνόμοια οὔτε ταὐτὰ οὔθ᾿ ἕτερά ἐστιν αὐτῷ τὰ
ἄλλα.”
b “ τί δέ; τὸ ἐκείνου ἢ τὸ ἐκείνῳ ἢ τὸ τὶ ἢ τὸ τοῦτο ἢ τὸ τούτου ἢ ἄλλου
ἢ ἄλλῳ ἢ ποτὲ ἢ ἔπειτα ἢ νῦν ἢ ἐπιστήμη ἢ δόξα ἢ αἴσθησις ἢ λόγος
ἢ ὄνομα ἢ ἄλλο ὁτιοῦν τῶν ὄντων περὶ τὸ μὴ ὂν ἔσται; ”
“ οὐκ ἔσται.”
“ οὕτω δὴ ἓν οὐκ ὂν οὐκ ἔχει πως οὐδαμῇ.”
“ οὔκουν δὴ ἔοικέν γε οὐδαμῇ ἔχειν.”
128 τῷ αὐτῷ BT (B gives it to the other speaker): τὸ αὐτό al.

“Nor will we say then that ‘what is nowhere’ is at rest, for what is at
rest must always be in the same thing.”
— “In the same thing, of course.”
“Thus, let us say again that ‘what is not’ is not ever at rest nor in
motion.”
— “Quite so.”
“But in fact, nothing among the ‘things that are’ belongs to it, for
by partaking of ‘this, that is’ [i.e., anything that is], it would at once 164
partake of being.”
— “Obviously.”
“So neither largeness nor smallness nor equality belongs to it.”
— “No, they do not.”
“Furthermore, neither likeness nor difference in kind would belong to
it, neither in relation to itself nor in relation to the others.”
NO RELATIONS
“And what about this? Can the others be related to it, if, by necessity,
nothing belongs to it?”
— “They cannot.”
“So the others are neither like it nor unlike it, neither the same as nor
different from it.”
— “Indeed not.”
“And what of this: will ‘of that’, ‘to that’, ‘something’, ‘this’, ‘of this’, ‘of b
another’, ‘to another’, or time past, or afterwards, or now, or knowledge,
or opinion, or perception, or an account, or a name, or anything else
among the ‘things that are’ pertain to ‘what is not’?”
“Thus the one, ‘if it is not’, is not in any state at all.”
— “No, it appears to be in none whatsoever.”
“ Ἔτι δὴ λέγωμεν, ἓν εἰ μὴ ἔστι, τἆλλα τί χρὴ πεπονθέναι.”

“ λέγωμεν γάρ.”
“ ἄλλα μέν που δεῖ αὐτὰ εἶναι· εἰ γὰρ μηδὲ ἄλλα ἐστίν, οὐκ ἂν περὶ
τῶν ἄλλων λέγοιτο.”
“ οὕτω.”
“ εἰ δὲ περὶ τῶν ἄλλων ὁ λόγος, τά γε ἄλλα ἕτερά ἐστιν. ἢ οὐκ ἐπὶ τῷ
c αὐτῷ καλεῖς τό τε ἄλλο καὶ τὸ ἕτερον; ”
“ ἔγωγε.”
“ ἕτερον δέ γέ πού φαμεν τὸ ἕτερον εἶναι ἑτέρου, καὶ τὸ ἄλλο δὴ ἄλλο
εἶναι ἄλλου; ”
“ ναί.”
“ καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις ἄρα, εἰ μέλλει ἄλλα εἶναι, ἔστι τι οὗ ἄλλα ἔσται.”
“ τί δὴ οὖν ἂν εἴη; τοῦ μὲν γὰρ ἑνὸς οὐκ ἔσται ἄλλα, μὴ ὄντος γε.”
“ ἀλλήλων ἄρα ἐστί· τοῦτο γὰρ αὐτοῖς ἔτι λείπεται, ἢ μηδενὸς εἶναι
ἄλλοις.”
“ κατὰ πλήθη ἄρα ἕκαστα ἀλλήλων ἄλλα ἐστί. κατὰ ἓν γὰρ οὐκ ἂν οἷά
d τε εἴη, μὴ ὄντος ἑνός· ἀλλ᾿ ἕκαστος, ὡς ἔοικεν, ὁ ὄγκος αὐτῶν ἄπειρός
ἐστι πλήθει, κἂν τὸ σμικρότατον δοκοῦν εἶναι λάβῃ τις, ὥσπερ ὄναρ
ἐν ὕπνῳ φαίνεται ἐξαίφνης ἀντὶ ἑνὸς δόξαντος εἶναι πολλὰ καὶ ἀντὶ
σμικροτάτου παμμέγεθες πρὸς τὰ κερματιζόμενα ἐξ αὐτοῦ.”
“ ὀρθότατα.”
“ τοιούτων δὴ ὄγκων ἄλλα ἀλλήλων ἂν εἴη τἆλλα, εἰ ἑνὸς μὴ ὄντος
ἄλλα ἐστίν.”
“ κομιδῇ μὲν οὖν.”
SEVENTH ARGUMENT
“Let us state then how the others are affected ‘if one is not’.”
— “Yes, we should.”
OTHER THAN EACH OTHER

“They must somehow be other, for if they were not even other, one
would not be speaking of ‘the others’.”
— “Just so.”
“But if the account is about the others, the others are different. Or
do you not apply [the designations] ‘other’ and ‘different’ to the same
thing?” c
— “Yes, I do.”
“And don’t we say that the different is somehow different from a dif-
ferent, and that the other is other than another?”
— “Yes.”
“So if the others are to be other, there is something of which they will
be other.”
“So what would that be? For they will not be other than the one, if
indeed it is not.”
— “No, they will not.”
“So they are other than each other, since that is the only possibility
left, lest they be other than nothing.”
“So they each are other than each other as multitudes, for they could d
not be so as ones, ‘if one is not’. But, as it seems, each mass of them is
unlimited in multitude, and even if someone were to take what seemed
to be smallest, instantly, like a dream [appears] in sleep, instead of
appearing to be one it appears many, and instead of smallest it appears
enormous, in relation to [any] minute bits extracted from it.”
— “That is right.”
“It is [only] as masses of this sort that the others would be other than
each other—if they are other, and the one is not.”
— “Quite so.”
“ οὐκοῦν πολλοὶ ὄγκοι ἔσονται, εἷς ἕκαστος φαινόμενος, ὢν δὲ οὔ,

εἴπερ ἓν μὴ ἔσται; ”
“ οὕτω.”
e “ καὶ ἀριθμὸς δὲ εἶναι αὐτῶν δόξει, εἴπερ καὶ ἓν ἕκαστον, πολλῶν
ὄντων.”
“ καὶ τὰ μὲν δὴ ἄρτια, τὰ δὲ περιττὰ ἐν αὐτοῖς ὄντα οὐκ ἀληθῶς
φαίνεται, εἴπερ ἓν μὴ ἔσται.”
“ καὶ μὴν καὶ σμικρότατόν γε, φαμέν, δόξει ἐν129 αὐτοῖς ἐνεῖναι·130
165 φαίνεται δὲ τοῦτο πολλὰ καὶ μεγάλα πρὸς ἕκαστον τῶν πολλῶν ὡς
σμικρῶν ὄντων.”
“ καὶ ἴσος μὴν τοῖς πολλοῖς καὶ σμικροῖς ἕκαστος ὄγκος
δοξασθήσεται εἶναι· οὐ γὰρ ἂν μετέβαινεν ἐκ μείζονος εἰς ἔλαττον
φαινόμενος, πρὶν εἰς τὸ μεταξὺ δόξειεν131 ἐλθεῖν· τοῦτο δ᾿ εἴη ἂν
φάντασμα ἰσότητος.”
“ εἰκός.”
“ οὐκοῦν καὶ πρὸς ἄλλον ὄγκον πέρας ἔχων, αὐτός γε132 πρὸς αὑτὸν
οὔτε ἀρχὴν οὔτε πέρας οὔτε μέσον ἔχων; ”
“ πῇ δή; ”
b “ ὅτι ἀεὶ αὐτῶν ὅταν τίς τι λάβῃ τῇ διανοίᾳ ὥς τι τούτων ὄν, πρό
τε τῆς ἀρχῆς ἄλλη ἀεὶ φαίνεται ἀρχή, μετά τε τὴν τελευτὴν ἑτέρα
ὑπολειπομένη τελευτή, ἔν τε τῷ μέσῳ ἄλλα μεσαίτερα τοῦ μέσου,
σμικρότερα δέ, διὰ τὸ μὴ δύνασθαι ἑνὸς αὐτῶν ἑκάστου λαμβάνεσθαι,
ἅτε οὐκ ὄντος τοῦ ἑνός.”
129 δόξει ἐν Heindorf: δόξειεν BT.

130 ἐνεῖναι] ἓν εἶναι B: εἶναι T.
131 δόξειεν T: δόξειν B.
132 γε G. Hermann: τε BT.
DOXA
“So won’t there be many masses then, each appearing, but not being,
one, if indeed one is not to be?”
— “Just so.”
“And they will seem to have [some] number, if in fact each is also one, e
though they are many.”
“And some among them appear even and some odd, without truly
being so, if in fact one is not to be.”133
“Furthermore, we say, a smallest, too, will seem to be among them,
but this appears as a many, and [also] large in relation to each of that 165
many, because they are smaller [still].”
“And each mass will be conceived to be equal to these many small
things. For it could not, in appearance, shift from larger to less, before
seeming to enter an in-between state, and this would be [only] a sem-
blance of equality.”134
— “That’s quite likely.”
“So will it not appear to have a limit in relation to another mass, while
in relation to itself have neither beginning, nor limit [i.e., end], nor
middle?”
— “How so?”
“Because whenever someone grasps something in thought as if it were
any of these [i.e., beginning, middle, or end], before the beginning b
another beginning always appears, and after the end a different end
remaining appears, and in the middle others more in the middle than
the middle [appear] but smaller, because it is not possible to grasp each
of these as one, since ‘the one is not’.”
133 Again, Plato seems to have irrational numbers in mind.

134 Appearance vs. consistency: One must seek consistency—the mind provides
consistency even where there is none. Cf. 164d: the things will appear to have
number if they appear to have oneness, without actually having it. If they are
many, they appear to have number; thus, they appear to be odd and even,
etc. (i.e., all the mathematical rules should be applicable). Plato shows that
even at the level of Doxa, rationality can be applied because of the mind’s
penchant for recognizing or providing patterns, to seek what is consistent.
Even if things appear in a certain way—without actually being so—what
appears can nonetheless be counted. Thus, the rules for counting will apply.
“ θρύπτεσθαι δὴ,135 οἶμαι, κερματιζόμενον ἀνάγκη πᾶν τὸ ὄν, ὃ ἄν
τις λάβῃ τῇ διανοίᾳ. ὄγκος γάρ που ἄνευ ἑνὸς αἰεὶ136 λαμβάνοιτ᾿ ἄν.”
c “ οὐκοῦν τό γε τοιοῦτον πόρρωθεν μὲν ὁρῶντι καὶ ἀμβλὺ ἓν
φαίνεσθαι137 ἀνάγκη, ἐγγύθεν δὲ καὶ ὀξὺ νοοῦντι πλήθει ἄπειρον ἓν
ἕκαστον φανῆναι, εἴπερ στέρεται τοῦ ἑνὸς μὴ ὄντος; ”
“ ἀναγκαιότατον μὲν οὖν.”
“ οὕτω δὴ ἄπειρά τε καὶ πέρας ἔχοντα καὶ ἓν καὶ πολλὰ ἕκαστα τἆλλα
δεῖ φαίνεσθαι, ἓν εἰ μὴ ἔστιν, τἆλλα138 δὲ τοῦ ἑνός.”
“ δεῖ γάρ.”
“ οὐκοῦν καὶ ὅμοιά τε καὶ ἀνόμοια δόξει εἶναι; ”
“ πῇ δή; ”
“ οἷον ἐσκιαγραφημένα ἀποστάντι μὲν ἓν πάντα φαινόμενα ταὐτὸν
d φαίνεσθαι πεπονθέναι καὶ ὅμοια εἶναι.”
“ προσελθόντι δέ γε πολλὰ καὶ ἕτερα καὶ τῷ τοῦ ἑτέρου φαντάσματι
ἑτεροῖα καὶ ἀνόμοια ἑαυτοῖς.”
“ οὕτω.”
“ καὶ ὁμοίους δὴ καὶ ἀνομοίους τοὺς ὄγκους αὐτούς τε ἑαυτοῖς ἀνάγκη
φαίνεσθαι καὶ ἀλλήλοις.”
“ οὐκοῦν καὶ τοὺς αὐτοὺς καὶ ἑτέρους ἀλλήλων, καὶ ἁπτομένους καὶ
χωρὶς ἑαυτῶν, καὶ κινουμένους πάσας κινήσεις καὶ ἑστῶτας πάντῃ,
καὶ γιγνομένους καὶ ἀπολλυμένους καὶ μηδέτερα, καὶ πάντα που τὰ
e τοιαῦτα, ἃ διελθεῖν εὐπετὲς ἤδη ἡμῖν, εἰ ἑνὸς μὴ ὄντος πολλὰ ἔστιν.”
“ ἀληθέστατα μὲν οὖν.”
135 δή B: δὲ T.
136 αἰεὶ T: om. B.
137 ἓν φαίνεσθαι b: ἐμφαίνεσθαι BT.
138 τἆλλα corr. Ven. 189: ἄλλα B: ἀλλὰ T.
“So every being that someone grasps in thought must, I think, be
fractioned into minute bits, because without oneness, it would always
somehow be grasped as a mass.”
“So, if seen from afar and indistinctly, such a thing must necessarily c
appear one, but if observed from up close and grasped distinctly with
one’s mind, would each one necessarily seem to be unlimited in mul-
titude, if indeed it is deprived of oneness, since ‘one is not’?”
— “Most necessarily, indeed.”
“Thus, the others must each appear both unlimited and as having limit,
and both one and many, ‘if one is not’ but the ‘other than the one, are’.”
— “Yes, they must.”
“Won’t they also seem to be both like and unlike?”
“As when, to a distant viewer, all [the subjects] in a painting appear-
ing one, seem to have the same qualifications, and [thus] to be alike.” d
“But in coming closer they appear many and different, and, because
of this semblance of difference, they [appear] different in kind and
unlike themselves.”
— “Just so.”
“So these masses must also appear both like and unlike both themselves
and each other.”
“Consequently, they [the masses] must appear both the same as and
different from each other, both in contact with and separate from
themselves, both moving in all kinds of motions and in every way at
rest, both coming to be and ceasing to be and neither, and as all these
kinds of things somehow—which would be easy for us to go through e
at this point—‘if one is not’ and ‘many are’.”
— “Very true indeed.”
“ Ἔτι δὴ ἅπαξ ἐλθόντες πάλιν ἐπὶ τὴν ἀρχὴν εἴπωμεν, ἓν εἰ μὴ

ἔστι, τἆλλα δὲ τοῦ ἑνός, τί χρὴ εἶναι.”
“ εἴπωμεν γὰρ οὖν.”
“ οὐκοῦν ἓν μὲν οὐκ ἔσται τἆλλα.”
“ οὐδὲ μὴν πολλά γε· ἐν γὰρ πολλοῖς οὖσιν ἐνείη139 ἂν καὶ ἕν. εἰ γὰρ
μηδὲν αὐτῶν ἐστὶν ἕν, ἅπαντα οὐδέν ἐστιν, ὥστε οὐδ᾿ ἂν πολλὰ εἴη.”
166 “ μὴ ἐνόντος δὲ ἑνὸς ἐν τοῖς ἄλλοις, οὔτε πολλὰ οὔτε ἕν ἐστι τἆλλα.”
“ οὐδέ γε φαίνεται ἓν οὐδὲ πολλά.”
“ τί δή; ”
“ ὅτι τἆλλα τῶν μὴ ὄντων οὐδενὶ οὐδαμῇ οὐδαμῶς οὐδεμίαν κοινωνίαν
ἔχει, οὐδέ τι τῶν μὴ ὄντων παρὰ τῶν ἄλλων τῴ ἐστιν. οὐδὲν γὰρ μέρος
ἐστὶ τοῖς μὴ οὖσιν.”
“ οὐδ᾿ ἄρα δόξα τοῦ μὴ ὄντος παρὰ τοῖς ἄλλοις ἐστὶν οὐδέ τι
φάντασμα, οὐδὲ δοξάζεται οὐδαμῇ οὐδαμῶς τὸ μὴ ὂν ἐπὶ140 τῶν ἄλλων.”
b “ ἓν ἄρα εἰ μὴ ἔστιν, οὐδὲ δοξάζεταί τι τῶν ἄλλων ἓν εἶναι οὐδὲ πολλά·
ἄνευ γὰρ ἑνὸς πολλὰ δοξάσαι ἀδύνατον.”
“ ἓν ἄρα εἰ μὴ ἔστι, τἆλλα οὔτε ἔστιν οὔτε δοξάζεται ἓν οὐδὲ πολλά.”
“ oὐδ᾿ ἄρα ὅμοια οὐδὲ ἀνόμοια.”
“ oὐ γάρ.”
“ oὐδὲ μὴν τὰ αὐτά γε οὐδ᾿ ἕτερα, οὐδὲ ἁπτόμενα οὐδὲ χωρίς, οὐδὲ
ἄλλα ὅσα ἐν τοῖς πρόσθεν διήλθομεν ὡς φαινόμενα αὐτά, τούτων οὔτε
τι ἔστιν οὔτε φαίνεται τἆλλα, ἓν εἰ μὴ ἔστιν.”
139 ἐνείη] ἒν εἴη B: εἴη T.

140 ἐπὶ Schleiermacher: ὑπὸ BT.
EIGHTH ARGUMENT
“Let us return once again to the beginning and state what must be the
case, ‘if one is not’ but the ‘others than the one are’.”
— “Yes, let us do so.”
“Well, the others will not be one.”
“Nor will they be many, for if they were many, oneness would also be
present in them. But if none of them is [a] one, they are all nothing,
and thus they could not be many either.”
— “True.”
“If oneness is not present in the others, the others are neither many 166
nor one.”
— “No, they are not.”
“Nor do they appear one or many.”
— “Why?”
“Because the others are not in communion in any way whatsoever with
any of the ‘things that are not’; and none of the ‘things that are not’
pertain to any of the others, since ‘things that are not’ have no share
[of anything].”
— “True.”
“So neither opinion nor appearance regarding ‘what is not’ pertains
to the others; nor is ‘what is not’ conceived in any way whatsoever by
the others.”
NO QUALIFICATIONS
“So ‘if one is not’, none of the others is conceived to be one or many
either, since, without oneness, it is impossible to conceive of many.” b
— “Yes, impossible.”
“Therefore, ‘if one is not’, the others neither are nor are conceived to
be one or many.”
“So [they are] neither like nor unlike either of these.”
— “No.”
“Indeed, they are neither the same nor different, neither in contact
nor separate, nor anything else that they appeared to be in our previ-
ous argument. The others neither are, nor appear to be, any of those
things, ‘if one is not’.”
c “ ἀληθῆ.”
“ oὐκοῦν καὶ συλλήβδην εἰ εἴποιμεν, ἓν εἰ μὴ ἔστιν, οὐδέν ἐστιν, ὀρθῶς
ἂν εἴποιμεν; ”
“ εἰρήσθω τοίνυν τοῦτό τε καὶ ὅτι, ὡς ἔοικεν, ἓν εἴτ᾿ ἔστιν εἴτε μὴ
ἔστιν, αὐτό τε καὶ τἆλλα καὶ πρὸς αὑτὰ καὶ πρὸς ἄλληλα πάντα
πάντως ἐστί τε καὶ οὐκ ἔστι καὶ φαίνεταί τε καὶ οὐ φαίνεται.”
Text and Translation: 166c 217
— “True.” c
“In short, if we were to say, ‘if one is not, nothing is’, would we not be
speaking correctly?”
FINAL CONCLUSION
“Then let that be said—and also the following, namely that, as it seems,
if ‘one is’ or if ‘[one] is not’, [then] it and the others both are and are
not, and both appear and do not appear to be all things in all ways,
both in relation to themselves and in relation to each other.”
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Index Locorum
Anaxagoras VI, 24 25n75

B1 24n75 VI, 52–54 25n75
B12 27n80
Gorgias
Aristotle B3 13n40, 23n73
Categories B11 23n73
208, 20–32 24n75
Homer
Metaphysics
Iliad
984b2 27n80
24.529 27n78
986b30 27n80
987b7–13 18n49 Parmenides
987b8–10 18n51 A46 27n80, 38n102
990b15 18n50 B1.3 16
991a13 24n75 B1.29 16
1024b32 24n75 B1.31 77n4
1043b24–28 26n76 B2.5–8 13n39
1043b28 31n89 B2.7–8 13n40
1091b6–10 27n78 B4 89n28
On Melissus, Xenophanes and B4.1 27n80
Gorgias (MXG) B5 103n49
979b, 22 139n84, B6 103n49
159n102 B6.1–2 13n39, 13n40
On the Heavens B7.1–2 13n39, 13n40
298b18 27n79 B8.2 27n80
B8.2–6 101n47
Diogenes Laërtius
B8.3 38n103
II, 65 25n76
B8.3–6 13n40
III, 1–17 24n75
B8.4 38n103
VI, 1–2 25n76
235
B8.8–9 13n39 129d–130a 20n60, 60,

B8.9–10 121n70 105n51
B8.15–16 101n46 130a 105n51
B8.16 91n33 130a–b 63n113
B8.17 13n39, 13n40 130b 29, 69
B8.22 38n103 130c 70
B8.29 81n12 130c–d 19n52
B8.32 38n103 131a–b 24n75
B8.34–35 27n80 131a–133e 18n49
B8.38 38n103 132b 19n55, 19n56
132b5 19n52
B8.38–41 13n40
132d 19n56
B8.41 111n62
133a5–6 18n49
B8.50 101n45
133b 19n52, 21n65
B8.55 27n80, 37
133c 18n50, 19
B8.55–59 13n40
133d–e 19n56
B8.56–59 38n102
134a–b 20n62
B8.61 16 134a–e 19n56
B9 37 134b 30
Plato 134c–e 30
Laws 134d–e 20n62
889e 18n51 135a 21n65, 69
890b5–8 18n51 135b 3, 6, 26
135b–c 14, 20n64, 25,
890d 18n51
61
Letter VII
135b5–c3 19n52
343b 65n118
135c 14, 68
Parmenides
135c–d 56
126a–137c 7
135d–136c 22
127e 60
135e 20n60, 57, 61,
128a 79n8, 101n43 105n51
128a–b 79n9 135e–136c 3, 15
128b 101n43, 105n51, 135e5 19n52
107n53 136a 67, 101n43
128d 23n73, 79n9, 136d 6
101n43, 105n51, 137a 6
107n53 137b 65, 79n9,
128e 63n113 107n53
129a–d 60 137b4–5 105n51
129d 11 137c 42, 79n9,
129d–e 63n113, 68 105n51
Index Locorum 237
137cff. 63n113 149d 44

137c–166c 3, 7 150e 56
137d 36, 42 150e–151a 139n84
138a 19n56, 36 151aff. 56
138b 42 151b 38, 44
138b–138c 83n15 151d 44
139a 42 151e–157b 44
139a1 113n64 152a 45
139b 36, 42 152b–d4 24n75
139b–140b 65n119 155d 44–45
139e 42 155d–e 44
140a–b 19n52 155e 44–45
140b 42 156a 45
140d 13 156b 45
141e 20n61 156c 45
141d 42 156d 46
141e 20n61, 42 156d–e 46
142a 33, 42 157a 46
142a3–4 xvi 157a–b 46
142b 43, 107n53 157b 46
142b–e 68 157c 47
142c–d 30 157e 47
142d 35n98, 36, 43 158b 47, 183n110
142dff. 43 158b–c 47
142d–e 19n54 158c 24n75
142e 20n61, 43 158d 46–47
142e–143a 25n75 158e 19n52
143b–c 19n54 159a 47
144a 44 159b 48
144a–e 66 159c 48
144c 19n54 159d 48, 66
144e 35n98 159d7 66, 187n113
144d–145a 24n75 159e 49
145a 19n54, 36, 44 159e–160a 49
145b 19n56, 44, 56 160a 48–49
145e 36, 44, 56 160b 49
146a 37, 44, 56 160cff. 23n73
147c 19n52 160d 50
147b 44 160d–e 13n40
148a 19n52 160e 50
148c–d 44 161a 50
161b 50 241d 13n38–40

161c 50 244d 32n90, 65n117
161e 50 250eff. 20n59
162a 13n40 250e6ff. 63n113
162a–b 23n73, 50 251d 63n113
162b 50 252b6ff. 63n113
162e 50 253a 20n59
163a 50 253a1 63n113
163b 50 253d 63n113
163c 51 254bff. 34n97
163d 51 254b6ff. 63n113
163e 51 254c 20n59, 34n97
164a 51 255c12 63n113
164a–b 51 255e5 63n113
164b 19n52, 51–52 256a11 63n114
164c 52 256c 63n114
164d 52, 211n134 256e –259a 13n39
164dff. 25n75 257b 34n97, 63n114
164e 24n75 257b–c 13n40
165a 52 258b–259b 13n40
165b 53 258e–259a 63n114
165c 53 259a 20n59
165d 53 259a5 63n113
165d–e 53 259c 71n122
165e 54 259c–d 63n114, 71
166a 54 259e 62n112
166b 54 259e4 63n113
166c 54 259e 34n97
Phaedrus 260a 68n121
261d 34n95 260a–261a 13n39
Philebus 262d4 63n113
15b–c 19n53 Statesman
65a 18n51 283e 63n114
Republic Symposium
435a 18n51 211a–b 29n81
509 xv Theaetetus
596a 18n51 147d6 183n110
Sophist 147d–148b 24n75, 183n110
217c 8n19, 9n21 183e 8n19, 11n34
253a1 63n113 201d10–202c6 31n87
253d 63n113 201d10–202b8 33n92
Index Locorum 239
208bff. 65n118
Timaeus
51c–d 29n81
Plotinus
Ennead
V1 xv
VI 7.41 xvi
VI 9.5 xvi n17
Simplicius
Commentary on Aristotle’s On the
Heavens
295, 1–22 25n75
Physics
562, 1 139n84
Theophrastus
De Sensibus
1.3 38n102
Xenophanes
B34 20n63
General Index
A atheism ix
Adomenas, Mantas 24n75 atomic viii
agnosticism viii St. Augustine xiv
Alfarabi xiv Avicenna xiv
Al Ghazzali xiv
B
Allen, R. E. xxii, 8n16, 10n30,
Beck, Maximilian 12n35
14n44, 15n46, 64n115
Beets, M. G. J. xxii
Álvarez, Salas Omar Daniel 24n75
becoming ix, xiii, xiv, xviii, 12,
Ambuel, David 12n37, 32n91 37, 119
Anaxagoras 7, 23, 24n75, 27n80 being ix–xviii, 4, 12, 13n40,
Annas, Julia 4n3, 4n6, 5n9, 9n20 19n54, 19n57, 20, 20n61, 29–32,
Anscombe, G. E. M. 15n47 35n98, 36, 39, 41–54, 57, 59,
Antisthenes 16, 23, 24–25n75, 25, 64–66, 69
25–26n76, 31, 31n89 not-being 9–10, 10n26,
Apelt, Otto xxii, 24n75 12–14, 13n40, 23, 23n73,
Apology vii 32, 45–46, 49–51, 53, 59
aporiai (perplexing difficulties) 70 Bostock, David 5n7, 33n92
arguments, eight xxiii, 19n54, 26, Bowra, C. M. 11n31
34–35, 34n94, 41–54, 83n16 Bréhier, Émile xvii, xvii n18
vast sea of 3, 103 Brickhouse, Thomas C. 5n8
Aristippus 16, 23, 24n75, 25, 25n76 Brisson, Luc xxii
Aristotle ix, xii, xiv–xv, xvii, 23, Bröcker, Walter 30n83
18n49–51, 24–25n75, 26n75, Brumbaugh, Robert S. xxii, 7n14,
27n78–80, 31n89, 139n84, 23n73, 24–25n75
159n102 Burnet, John 4n5, 5n7, 12n35,
Aristoteles, (protagonist) 7–8, 11, 82n14, 84n19
11n33, 74–77, 98–99, 102–105 Burnyeat, Myles F. 25–26n76,
Armstrong, A. H. xvii n18 31n89, 33n92
241
C Dodds, Eric R. xv, xv n16

Chappell, Timothy 31n89, 33n92
E
Cherniss, Harold 6n10, 24n75
Edwards, Mark 4n1
Christianity xiv
Chroust, Anton Hermann 12n37, Einstein, Albert xii
25n75 Eleatics, (see also Parmenides and
Chrysakopoulou, Sylvana xx, xxii, Zeno) 6n12, 8, 10, 21–22,
xxiv 24n75, 27n79, 34, 69
Classen, C. Joachim 24n75 Eleaticism xii, 6n12, 13n41
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor vii, empiricism viii
vii n1, xiii, xiii n12 epistemology xxi
compresent attributes, qualities 34, Eriugena, John Scot x, xiii
36n99, 135, 199n125 (see also exercise theory vii
sēmata)
F
contradiction xiii, 13n40, 22n71,
Ficino, Marsilio x
35n98, 63–64, 78–79
Fine, Gail 17n58, 22n75
non-contradiction (Principle
of) 34, 35n98, 43 form x, xi, xv–xvi, 18–19, 18n50–
Conway Morris, Simon ix, ix n5 51, 37, 61, 67, 69, 80ff.
Cooper, John xxii, 5n9, 33n92 complex, interweaving of,
Cordero, Gonzàles 12n37 symploke 67
Cornford, Francis M. xxii, 12n36– itself-by-itself, disassociation
37, 13n41, 14n45, 15n46, 18n50, of 19, 19n57, 19–20n58,
24–25n75, 139n84, 159n102 29–32, 62, 67, 69, 80–83
Cusa, Nicholas of x, xii, xvi (See also simple)
participation, participants 17,
D
18n49, 55, 58, 80–81
Dancy, R. M. 24n75
Theory of Forms 4–5, 5n7,
Dante viii, ix n3
6, 6n10, 10, 10n29, 12n35,
Darwin, Charles ix
14–16, 22, 23n75, 25–26,
Demand, Nancy 24n75
Denys the Areopagite x 55–57, 70
developmentalism, developmentalist Fowden, Garth xv n15
5, 5n8, 6n11, 56 Fowler, H. N. 179n108
dialectic vii, xi, xiii, xix, 23, 77n4 Frede, Dorothea 9n20
Diels, Hermann 108n58 Frede, Michael xxiii
Diels, Hermann and Walther Freud, Sigmund xii, xviii
Kranz 21n67 Frye, P. H. 4n5
Divine xi, 20, 27, 27n78, 62, Fuller, Benjamin A. G. 24n75,
96–97 25n76
Divine Intellect viii Furth, Montgomery 13n40
General Index 243
G itself-by-itself 19n57, 32–33, 35,

Gabirol, Solomon ibn xiv 41–43, 50, 61, 66, 67–69, 105n51
Gill, Marie-Louise xxii, 12n35, (see also “form”)
14n44, 64n115, 79n9, 101n43,
J
107n53, 177n106
James, William xi, xi n8
God x, xi–xii, xiv, 18n51, 59, 62,
96–97 Jowett, Benjamin xiii
Good (the) xv–xvi, 18n51, 27n78, Judaism xiv
29–30, 56, 59, 70, 82–83, 94–95, Jung, C. J. xviii
98–99 K
Gorgias xxiii, 13n40, 21n67, 23, Kahn, Charles xxi, xxi n2, xxii–
23n73, 24n75, 25, 69, 139n84, xxiii, 5n9, 9n23, 10n28, 57,
159n102 57n109, 64–65, 64n115–116,
Gould, Stephen Jay ix, ix n4 79n9, 105n51, 107n53
Griswold, Charles L. 10n28 Karamanolis, George xxiii, xxiv
Guthrie, William K. C. xxii,
Karasmanis, Vassilis xxiii
12n36–37, 13n38, 24–25n75,
Kerferd, George B. 25n75
27n80, 31n89, 63n114
Kindi xiv
H Klibansky, Raymond x, xii n10,
Hankey, Wayne x n6 xiii, xiii n11
Hedley, Douglas vii–xxiii, Koumakis, Georgios xxii, 4n5,
xxii–xxiii, xxiv, 3 12n35
Hegel, Georg W. F. xi, xi n7, xiii,
L
xvi, xix, xx
Lee, Henry D. P. 8n15
Heidegger, Martin x, xiii
Heraclitus ix, xix–xx, 6n12, 34 legacy (of Parmenides) vii, x–xii,
Hermann, Arnold xxiv, 10n25, xiv, xvii, xxiv, 16, 21–27
13n38, 13n42, 25n75, 91n35 Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm xx
Hesse, Hermann xviii Levett, M. J. 33n92
Hoyle, Fred viii Liebrucks, Bruno 4n4, 30n83
Hume, David viii M
I Macris, Costas xxiii
Ibn Arabi xiv Maimonides xiv
Ierodiakonou, Katerina xxiii Mann, Thomas xviii
intelligible things (abstracts) 6, 55, Mascaró, Juan xvii n19
60 McCabe, Mary Margaret 31n84
Irrational numbers 183n110, McDonald, John M. S. 24n75
211n133 McDowell, John 31n89
Islam xiv Megarians 4n5, 12n35, 14n43,
Israel, Jonathan xii, xii n9 24n75
Meinwald, Constance xxii, 15n46– One Itself (see also form,

47, 24n75, 30n83, 41n104, itself-by-itself) xv, 31, 35,
66n120 41–42, 65
Meister, Eckhart x, xiii One as not-Other 44, 47–49,
Miller, Mitchell xxi–xxii, 7n13–14, 52–53, 146–147
12n35, 17n48, 19n57, 22n71, One plus Being, “Unit of is”
24n75, 26n77, 31n85, 57, 57n107 41, 43, 46, 48–49, 65–66,
Moderatus, of Gades xvi 187n113
Moerbeke, William of x Ontotheology xiii
Mohr, Richard 24n75, 30n82–84 Ostwald, Martin 11n32
monism ix, xi, xvii–xviii, 13n41, 23 other, Other than One 47–49,
Most, Glenn xx, xxii, xxiv 52–54, 59, 66–67, 114–115,
Mulla Sudra xiv 152–153, 186–189, 194–195
Owen, G. E. L. vii, vii n2, 5n7
N
Nails, Debra 8n16 P
name, naming, nameable 3, 13n40, Palmer, John xxi–xxii, xxi n1,
18n51, 19n57, 31–32, 32n90, 10n27, 12n35, 13n38, 22n70,
33–34, 41–44, 51, 57, 59n111, 23n73, 24–25n75, 30n84, 34n97
63, 65, 65n119, 66n120, 67–68, Parmenides (of Elea) ix–x, xv, xviii,
70, 84–85, 92–93, 124–125, xix–xxi, 7–8, 9n21, 9n24
144–147, 172–173, 206–207 dialogue’s protagonist 3, 7
Natorp, Paul 30n83 historical vii, xx, 8, 9n21, 10
Navia, Luis E. 24–25n75–76 Poem ix, xx–xxi, 12, 13, 15,
“neither/nor,” “both,” “either,” and 22, 33, 35, 37, 101n43
“or” 34–39, 42, 44, 48, 51, 53 Aletheia, Reliable
Neoplatonism x, xiv–xvi Account 27, 35
Nietzsche, Friedrich x Doxa, (belief, Opinions of
not-being (οὐκ ἔστιν) 9–10, 10n26, Mortals) 13n40, 20n63,
12–13, 13n40, 23, 23n73, 32, 46, 27, 27n80, 35, 37–39,
49–51, 59, 176–177, 198–199 93n36, 210–213, 211n134
Parmenides vii, x–xi, xiii–xxiii,
O 3–73
one, (hen) Unity viii, x, xi, xii–xv, First Part 5n7, 8–7, 16–17,
xvi, xvii, 30n83, 34, 36–37, 39, 55, 59, 62, 69–70, 83n16
41–54, 64n115, 79n8–9, 107n53 Second Part xi, xvi, xxiii, 3,
One and the Many viii, ix, 7–8, 13n41, 15, 17, 18n51,
xvi, 34 19n54, 19n57, 22, 22n72,
One and the Many 30, 33–34, 34n94, 38,
problem 4, 20n61, 56, 38n103, 54–71, 83n16,
66–67 105n51
General Index 245
St. Paul x, 66n120 Republic vii, xv–xvi, 7n13, 17,

Pericles 10–11 18n51, 23n74
Peterson, Sandra 66n120 Rees, Sir Martin viii
Phaedo vii, 12n35, 14n43, 14n45, Reynard, Jean 4n1
89n27 Rickless, Samuel xxii, 12n35,
Phaedrus vii 15n47, 57, 57n106
Philo of Alexandria xiv Robinson, Thomas M. 25n75
Plato ix–x, xiii Rorty, Richard x
Academy xiv, xvi, 9, 9n21, Ross, William D. 18n50–51,
23, 24n75, 26, 26n77 25n75, 34n97, 64n115
interpretation, Runia, David T. 4n1
(Developmentalist, Ryle, Gilbert vii, vii n2, 5n7, 8n17,
Unitarian) 5–6, 5n8, 6n11, 9n20, 9n22, 12n35, 24–25n75,
56 31n85
Platonism x–xii, xiv–xv
S
Plotinus xiv–xvii, xvii n18
Sankara xvii
Middle Platonism xv
Sayre, Kenneth M. xxii, 7n14,
plurality viii–ix, 43, 52, 57, 60,
8n17, 64n115
66–67, 178–179
Schofield, Malcolm 24n75
pluralists xi–xii
science viii
Presocratic(s) ix, xix, 7, 15–16, 21,
Schopenhauer, Arthur xviii
21n67, 22, 24, 26, 62
Schudoma, Ingeborg xxii,
Proclus x, xiii, 78n6, 84n18,
Scolnicov, Samuel xx, xxii, 12n35,
86n20, 86n22, 88n25, 90n30–31,
13n38, 24–25n75, 64n115
102n48, 108n55, 108n57–58,
Sedley, David 33n92
110n59, 114n66, 132n78
Seel, Gerhard xxi–xxii, 6n12,
Protagoras 23, 23–24n75, 25, 69
18n50–51, 19n57, 23n74, 35n98,
Pythagoras xx, 6n12
36n100, 54n105
Pythagorean xii, xix–xx, 6n12,
self-predication 65n119, 66n120
24n75
sēmata, landmarks, characteristics
number theory 23
13n40, 27, 34, 34n94, 35–38,
Pythagoreanism 24n75
38n103, 39, 101n47
Pythodorus 8, 11, 11n32–33,
heterogeneous 13n40, 27
74–77, 82–83, 98–99, 102–103
homogeneous 13n40, 27, 38
R sensible things, (tangibles) 15n47,
Rangos, Spyros xxiii 17–27, 18n51, 35, 55, 60–62, 67,
Reason, reasoning x, 18n51, 31, 57, 87n23
60–62, 82–83, 97–99 Shorey, Paul xiii, xiii n14, 6n10,
Principle of Sufficient 19n53, 19n58, 21n66, 25n75,
Reason 121n70 36n99, 198n122–124
simple 29–36, 39, 41–42, 48–51, theology ix, xi, xiv–xvi, 4, 4n1
53–54, 57, 61, 63, 65–66, Thesleff, Holger 7, 8n18, 9n20–21,
187n113 10n28
Smith, Nicholas D. 5n8 St. Thomas x
Socrates 21n67, 22, 59 Timaeus xv, 5n7, 9n21, 29n81
historical 8, 9n21, 10, 10n29, time viii–ix, 41–42, 44–46, 51, 56,
11n33, 21n67, 24 71, 120–123, 160–173
protagonist 7, 11–12, 11n33, Turnbull, Robert G. xxii, 13n38,
14–16, 19, 25, 29–30, 64n115
60–62, 67–70, 74ff.
U
“Dream of” 31, 31n89, 32,
uniformity viii
32n90, 33n93
universe vii–viii, xi–xii
Sophist xxi, xxiii, 8–9, 8n19, 9n21,
Upanishads xvii
9n24, 10n26–27, 12–13, 12n35,
13n38–40, 17, 20, 20n59, 20n61, V
21, 22n69, 32, 32n90–91, 34, Vedic scriptures xvii
34n97, 55, 57, 59, 62–63, 62n112, Vlastos, Gregory vii, vii n2
63n113–114, 65, 65n117, 67–68,
W
68n121, 70–71, 71n122, 105n51
Wagner, Richard xviii
Sophist(s) xix, 10, 10n27, 12n37,
Weingartner, Rudolph H. 15n46
13n38, 22, 63, 67, 69
Whitehead, Alfred North xi
Sophistic 10, 13n38, 16, 24,
Wiggins, David 12n37
31
Wittgenstein, Ludwig xviii–xx, 33,
space viii, 56
33n93
Speiser, Andreas 4n2
Wood, Kelsey 12n35
Spinoza, Baruch xi–xii, xx
Woodbury, Leonard 13n40
Stallbaum, Apelt 24n75
Wundt, Max xxii
Suhrwardi xiv
symploke (see “form,” complex, X
interweaving) Xenophanes xix, 20n63, 22, 27
Symposium vii, 29n81
Z
T Zeno of Elea 7–8, 9n21, 11, 11n33,
Taylor, A. E. 4n5, 12n35–36, 22, 22n72, 22n71, 23, 24n75, 25,
14n43, 22n72, 24–25n75 33–34, 60–61, 67, 74ff., 77n3,
Theaetetus vii, ix–x, 5n7, 8–9, 8n19, 79n9, 101n43, 139n84,
11n34, 19n57, 21, 24n75, 31–32, Zilioli, Ugo 23n75
31n87, 32n90, 33n92, 34, 59,
65n118, 183n110
Theodorus of Cyrene 23, 24n75,
183n110
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Foreword: The Legacy of the Parmenides vii

THE PARMENIDES: A N INTRODUCTORY ESSAY FOR R EADERS

TEXT AND TRANSLATION 73

Second Argument 127

Third Argument 179

Fourth Argument 187

Fifth Argument 193

Sixth Argument 205

Seventh Argument 209

Eighth Argument 215

. . . frequently all things appear little . . . the universe itself—

1 Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Collected Letters, edited by Earl Leslie Grigg

Così l’intelligenza sua bontate

Consider evolutionary biology. Harvard paleontologist Stephen Jay

183 we have a reference to Parmenides as “venerable and awesome.”

The Eleatic Legacy within Platonism

How important is the notion of the transformation of the

6 Wayne Hankey, One Hundred Years of Neoplatonism in France (Leuven:

In the modern period, the Eleatic obsession with unity, this

7 Georg W. F. Hegel, Gesammelte Werke (Hamburg: Rheinisch-Westfälischen

Parmenides and the History of Metaphysics

9 Jonathan Israel, Radical Enlightenment: Philosophy and the Making of

West, such as in John Scot Eriugena. However, it was powerfully revived

11 R. Klibansky, The Continuity of the Platonic Tradition, 329.

to disguise the fact of a common philosophical tradition shared by

Plato’s Parmenides as Theology

distinguishes from each other the first One, which is more

Plotinus’ reading of the Parmenides was linked to an ambiguity in

15 Garth Fowden, Empire to Commonwealth: Consequences of Monotheism in

viewing the Good as the transcendent causal source of the realm of

Therefore “There is neither discourse nor perception nor

From Elea to Alexandria

17 Plotinus, Ennead VI 9.5, 30.

in Alexandria, even if he wrote in Rome. Alexandria was a meeting

18 Émile Bréhier, The Philosophy of Plotinus, translated by Joseph Thomas

basis of an aggrandizing philosophy of identity (e.g., Adorno), in fact

The origins of this present work came about in a somewhat com-

and a fifth on Plato’s Parmenides (including an examination of Plato’s

an all-too-elaborate exposition of interpretative issues. In contrast, a

1 Palmer, Plato’s Reception of Parmenides.

reproduced in this volume. I am grateful to the publishers and the

numerous times—once, even, at the University of Bern, where Gerhard’s

availability, and their help in general. I very much appreciate the

P.S.: Thanks, Plato, for keeping me really busy.

The motivation for the present translation came from Arnold

Dr. Sylvana Chrysakopoulou

structure, together with some of its debatable conclusions, has found

1 It is hard to imagine the emergence of Negative Theology in Western culture

moment, forcing Plato to either overhaul his Theory of Forms or

dismiss the dialogue itself as a negligible or frivolous exercise.10 However,

10 Cf. Cherniss, “The Relation of the Timaeus to Plato’s Later Dialogues,”

The Parmenides dialogue is made up of two parts of unequal length.

Pythodorus, an acquaintance of Zeno, who was historically deemed

A Meeting Between Parmenides and Socrates: Fact or Fiction?