The Genius of Heraclitus: What he really said.

Heraclitus the Obscure

Heraclitus is arguably the most-misunderstood philosopher of all time. He is famous for being obscure and contrary—a maverick who advances extreme and indefensible theses about the world. And, starting with Plato and Aristotle, he is perhaps the most-refuted philosopher of all time. His critics, ancient and modern, hold him up to ridicule as an exemplar of bad philosophy.

But all of this is unfortunate because until the twentieth century, no one had a clue as to what he was really saying.

Here are three of his most notorious (alleged) theses:

1. You can’t step twice into the same river.

In general terms, everything is always changing, including you and the river. Heraclitus is a “Process Philosopher,” maintaining that everything is in motion and flux. Processes are more basic than things.

2. Everything is composed of Fire.

Heraclitus is a “Material Monist,” who claims that there is only one ultimate kind of matter, namely Fire.

3. Because everything is ever changing, every statement and its negation are true.

So Heraclitus wallows in self-contradiction.

There are problems with these alleged theses, however. In the first place, (3) commits Heraclitus to accepting and indulging in contradictions. But to accept contradictions is to create logical chaos. It is to unsay everything you say. And, as has been recognized since the time of Plato (in the Theaetetus), it is bad practice to attribute an incoherent theory to your opponent, if you can find a coherent version instead. By a kind of principle of charity or of fairness, we need to represent the theories of our colleagues, even our opponents, in the best possible light. (Then we may refute them, as philosophers love to do—but we do it in a nice way.)

Furthermore, (1) and (2) are actually incompatible theses, as critics don’t seem to notice. If you are a Material Monist, holding that everything is the world is composed of one (type of) stuff, as allegedly Thales says all is water, Anaximenes says all is air, and Heraclitus says all is fire, then you don’t believe in radical change. Because if everything is really some stuff, say F, then the only changes possible in the world are changes in the appearances of F. For instance, water appears now as a liquid, now as a gas (water vapor), now as a solid (ice), but it is always still water (in modern terms, H₂0). There is change, to be sure, but a very limited kind of change, not a radical transformation from one time of stuff to another. In particular, there is no coming-to-be and no perishing, only changes in quality.

So which is it? Is Heraclitus a Process Philosopher, saying everything is in constant flux, or a Material Monist, saying everything is always really F, but just changing its costume? And if he contradicts himself, is he saying anything at all?

Heraclitus in his Own Words

Well, let’s look at what Heraclitus himself says. I will focus on just one sentence of his, the so-called fragment 12, the River Fragment. (Scholars speak of “fragments” of early philosophers because what we have from them are mostly disjointed excerpts from longer texts. But these are, mostly, in the original words of the philosopher, as the River Fragment certainly contains the very words of Heraclitus.)

So here is fragment 12, in my translation:

On those stepping into rivers staying the same

other and other waters flow.

Transliteration of the Greek:

Potamoisi toisin autoisin embainousin

rivers         the-same           those-stepping-in

            hetera kai hetera hudata epirrei.

            other and other     waters flow-to

This seems to be the statement that gives rise to the alleged theory of universal flux, as I will show later. What does it actually say?

Notice first the contrast of the term ‘the same’ in the first line with ‘other and other’ in the second line. The rivers stay the same while the water are ever different (“other and other”). So the waters are always changing, but, surprisingly, the rivers are staying the same. So not everything is changing all the time. Indeed, Heraclitus implies that somehow the fact that the waters are always changing brings it about that the rivers stay the same. Think about it: if the new waters were not constantly flowing, would there be a river at all? Stop the waters, and you get a dry riverbed. Or stop the waters from emptying, and you get a pond or a lake. So it turns out that the rivers depend very directly on the onrush of the waters. On the other hand, major rivers like the Amazon, Mississippi, Danube, and Nile have been in existence for millions of years.

The statement is paradoxical, in the sense of presenting an apparent conflict; but it is not contradictory, as we can see from the fact that it makes perfect sense when we think about it. Heraclitus loved paradox, but he never (I would argue) is guilty of contradicting himself. His paradoxes are all riddles that have solutions.

Now look at the Greek: Potamoisi toisin autoisin embainousin. Can you hear the sound of the water bubbling in the river? Do your hear the rhymes? Heraclitus is writing prose, not poetry, but he uses the poetic techniques of word-painting and rhyming here. Consider the second line: hetera kai hetera hudata epirrei. Here we get several words starting with h: the poetic technique of alliteration, along with open vowel sounds, as the language seems to speed up and rush off. He creates the sight and sound of a river.

But we are not done yet. Heraclitus has sandwiched the words toisin autoisin (“the same”) between the word for ‘rivers’ and the participle for ‘those-stepping-in.’ Greek is an inflecting language that does a lot by word-endings. All the words in the first line are dative plural masculine terms, as we see from the –oisi(n) endings. The adjective ‘the same’ agrees with both ‘rivers’ and ‘those-stepping-in.’ Which one does it modify?

Well, everyone assumes it modifies ‘rivers.’ But Heraclitus went to a good deal of trouble to make sure it was adjacent to and in agreement with the noun before it and the participle after it (Greek is much more flexible than English in word-order; but Heraclitus’ word-order here is not an idiomatic one by any means). The phrase is syntactically ambiguous; in other words, the adjective can be read as applying either to what goes before or to what goes after. So either:

On those stepping into the same rivers, other and other waters flow

On the same people stepping into rivers, other and other waters flow.

(You will notice that my own translation above is ambiguous between the two readings.)

Is Heraclitus guilty of bad grammar and rhetoric here? Aristotle thinks so, and criticizes him for his ambiguities. But Heraclitus uses such techniques often, including that of sandwiching one term or phrase between two other terms, each of which it could be construed with. He does it on purpose, to needle people who like to color inside the lines, like Aristotle.

In Heraclitus’ sentence ‘the same’ modifies both ‘rivers’ and ‘those-stepping-in.’ It has two messages. But the messages don’t cancel each other out; rather, they reinforce each other. Different waters. Same rivers, same agents. And a lurking implication: Without changing waters, there are no rivers, there is no agency.

Let’s go back to the point here. What could Heraclitus mean by saying the people who enter the rivers stay the same? First, a little historical context. There were very few bridges in ancient Greece. (A bit later the Romans were very good at building big highways and strong bridges.) If you wanted to cross a river, you had to go to a ford—a place where the water was shallow—and walk across. (If you were lucky, you rode horseback; but only rich people could afford horses.) But there was always the danger of getting washed downstream. So you had to work at getting across. To cross a river was an act of will, in which you pitted yourself against the forces of nature. By getting across the river, you distinguished yourself from a bit of flotsam. It was you against the river, you against the environment. If you go with the flow, you’re dead.

So can you step into a river twice? Even once? Yes. Every time you cross a river or walk against a wind, you prove your independence from your environment. You assert your own existence.

What the Critics Say

Here is Plato’s take on Heraclitus:

Heraclitus, I believe, says that all things pass and nothing stays, and comparing existing things to the flow of a river, he says you could not step twice into the same river.
(Cratylus 402)

Here is Aristotle on Heraclitus:

Cratylus [a later Heraclitean] … criticized Heraclitus for saying it was not possible to step into the same river twice—for he thought you could not step in even once!
(Metaphysics 1010a10, 13-15)

Notice that Aristotle actually suggests a theory of rivers similar to that of Heraclitus:

Shall we say that … [a] city [remains] the same, although the citizens are always dying and being born, as we call rivers and fountains the same, although the water is always flowing away and more coming?
(Aristotle Politics 1276a34–39, revised Oxford trans., emphasis added)

So why don’t he, and Plato, and Cratylus, and almost everybody for 2400 years, see what Heraclitus is saying?

The statements of Heraclitus such as those of Cratylus and Plato are often repeated by scholars as river fragments in addition to fr. 12, or as authoritative readings of the River Fragment. But when we look at these, we see that they are all paraphrases of fr. 12, and, given our reading of that fragment, misleading paraphrases. They lack the complexity and brilliance of Heraclitus’s writings, and they contradict his message.

Heraclitus actually anticipated the misunderstanding. In the introduction to the book he wrote, he said,

Of this Word’s being forever do men prove to be uncomprehending, both before they hear and once they have heard it. For although all things happen according to this Word, they are like the inexperienced experiencing words and deeds such as I explain when I distinguish each thing according to its nature and show how it is.
fr. 1, my trans.

Heraclitus has a message, his Word (Logos), which expresses a kind of law according to which nature operates. He explains things according to this law, or rather, he shows how things work, leaving us a pattern that is to be experienced. Many of his utterances are riddles, not stating, but portraying the nature of things; puzzles, embodying and re-presenting the world.

Most philosophers are, in terms of modern neuroscience, left-brained thinkers who simplify things and deduce consequences. Heraclitus is a right-brained thinker who creates models and lets us encounter them as we should encounter the world. The world is a riddle to be solved, a structure to be discovered. As Aristotle says, “The solution of a puzzle (aporia) is a discovery (heuresis)” (Nic. Ethics 1146b7-8).

Heraclitus doesn’t want to tell us how the world is; he wants to show us. He creates little riddles and lets us figure them out for ourselves. If we want ready-made answers, we will find nothing. As Heraclitus says of the riddling oracle of Apollo,

The Lord whose oracle is at Delphi neither reveals nor conceals, but gives a sign.
(fr. 92 my trans.)

Heraclitus gives us a sign: a complex structure embodying ambiguity, rhyme, alliteration, complexity, paradox, the sights and sounds of the river, opposition and unity, physics, anthropology, repetition, variation, ecology, balance.

In Heraclitus’ world, process is fundamental. But it gives rise to permanent structures: things. Things like rivers, like you and me passing through a river.

Heraclitus gives a sign. He constructs a puzzle.

The cosmos in nine words.

The genius of Heraclitus.

Here are some important contributions to the understanding of Heraclitus:

Karl Reinhardt. 1916. Parmenides und die Geschichte der griechischen Philosophie. Bonn.

G. S. Kirk. 1954. Heraclitus: The Cosmic Fragments. Cambridge.

Miroslav Marcovich. 2001 [1967]. Heraclitus. 2^nd edition. Sankt Augustin.

Charles H. Kahn. 1979. The Art and Thought of Heraclitus. Cambridge.

The First Philosophers