Concerning Milesian “Science” in the Context of Archaic Literature Generally

 (1988)

 

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     {Added 11/16/06.  I now find no record of what I actually read at the 1988      ISCSC meeting, and this is a background essay composed around that      time.  Obviously, the material reflects the situation then so that, for example,      phrases like “our century” refer to the now-past century.  Subsequent scholarship has lionized the Milesians somewhat less, but does not seem to me to obviate the essay’s conclusions in any basic way.  (For example, the 1999 Cambridge Companion to Early Greek Philosophy continues to ignore the possibilities that Anaximander’s “justice” language is not a metaphor and that his “arrangement of time” refers not to Time’s arrangement but to some agency arranging time.)  Meanwhile, as is noted in my 2004 History of Religions article noted on the Hesiod writings page, I now suspect a connection between Thales positing the archē to be water and the mystical attitude toward water that I believe is indicated in Hesiod’s Works and Days, vv. 678-759.

As to the transition to electronic presentation, since many viewers will lack the software needed to read certain diacritical marks, the transliterations of Sanskrit, Avestan, and Hebrew words below simply ignore the dots normally placed under or over some letters, except in the case of “s,” where I write “sh.” The Avestan symbol that looks somewhat like the Greek delta is simply denoted “e.”}

 

 

I.         INTRODUCTION: BACKGROUND, PURPOSE, METHOD.

I recall that, at some point during a typical physicist’s education, I learned that “the first scientist was Thales of Miletus, who said the world was made of water,” i.e., gave an underlying principle of reality.  Granted, scientists themselves are not the best authorities on such matters (and often reserve refinement of language for their formal mathematical expressions).  Nonetheless, I have since discovered a widespread assertion within the most concerned humanities disciplines, to the effect that the first important “Western scientists” (or “philosophers,” in the sense that philosophy, provided of European origin, is seen as the precursor of modern science in its strict sense) were the Milesians of archaic Greece, Thales, Anaximander, and Anaximenes.

Some examples.  In discussing the “themata” of modern science, a leading historian of science, Holton, assigns paradigmatic status to the putative theory of Thales that the world’s fundamental principle is in some sense water.  He says this inaugurated a “materialist—mechanist, anti-metaphysical” strain, as one of two poles which have characterized science ever since.[1]  The dominant philosopher of science of our century, Popper, goes so far as to claim that the Milesians were the key link in a long process leading “from the amoeba to Einstein.”[2]  As for actual classicists, the historian of ancient philosophy Guthrie, among others, allows that science was not strictly invented by the Greeks, but insists that, beginning with the Milesians, they “lifted it on to an entirely different plane” with respect to their predecessors.[3]  The most prominent reasons given for such assertions by him and by others proceed from certain ancient attestations that the Milesians articulated cosmologies/cosmogonies with certain details,[4] to claim they conceived of a “natural” universe in the abstract and, in doing so, criticized the “mythical” views of reality which had allegedly been entertained by their predecessors, principally Hesiod in Greece and Babylonian cosmology in “the Orient.” As for the avant garde, the eminent philologist Vernant does polemicize against the view that the Greek “miracle” was due to inherent (i.e., cultural or perhaps racial) characteristics, and allows that certain structures of the attested thought of Hesiod and of Anaximander are similar.  However, he also follows his predecessor in this, Cornford, to insist on the alleged funda­mental break between these two figures, and on the “rationalism” generally of the earliest Presocratics.  Proceeding from a belief which has sometimes been expressed, that the Milesians were empiricists as well as rationalist, a leading “post-positivist” historian/philosopher of science, Kuhn, has referred Western cosmological theories back to Anaximander insofar as they derive from observation.[5]  In this situation, it is little wonder that the allegation of the Milesians’ importance has penetrated other areas of inquiry as well, so that at least one “anti-positivist” literary scholar has even used Thales essentially as negative example during the course of his attack.[6]  Or, at the semi-popular level, in statements lettered on the wall at the entrance to the “Archaic period” room of a recent exhibition of early Greek art at the National Gallery of Art in Wash­ington, D.C., Thales in particular was touted as having allegedly effected numer­ous achievements of an empirical nature, including predicting a solar eclipse.

I suppose the reader has already surmised that I look askance at all this.  In any case I do so, and not only because many attributions of empiricist prac­tice or outlook in particular to the Milesians are controversial within moderately respected philology,[7] nor only because one can even find here and there in the literature some questioning of traditional attestations of their advance in thought in other areas.[8]  To me, the most suspicious aspect of the presented picture is its blatant Greek-centered orientation.  As one particularly revealing example among others to be pointed out below, a passage in the Upanishads tells us that a female(!) Indian sage named Gārgī Vācaknavī had said, “all this (i.e., the observable world) is woven on (or in?) water, warp and woof.”[9] Whoever actually first articulated this thought quite probably antedated Thales.[10]  As for him, our sole independent source for his “water theory,” Aristotle, simply states that he had said water was the “basic principle,” in the sense of “the substrate (which is such as) to persist” (archē, hupomenein to hupokeimenon, both probably paraphrased from an oral tradition), “perhaps” (isōs) because he had noted various manifestations of moisture in the world.  Thus he and others “touched on” (hēpsanto) a material cause concept.[11]  Possibly one can accept the result in Mansfeld’s recent contribution to a long contro­versy over Aristotle as historian of philosophy, to the effect that the later thinker here accurately attributes a germ of an idea to the earlier one, and no more.[12]  If so, it is not Aristotle (essentially an authority on Greece alone), but we moderns who are responsible for making Thales the first person of importance to science, while relegating study of the cited Sanskrit text to “Orientalists” (read: specialists in esoterica).  But by what right do we do so?

I believe said right is unproven.  Thus my purpose in this article is to subject some of what can plausibly be attributed to the Milesians to critical comparison with what is attested elsewhere in the early texts of the interna­tional “axial” age, mostly in purely intellectual terms, albeit with some men­tion of the respective social/cultural contexts.  I do not pretend to be exhaustive, but hope to stimulate discussion of possible cogent alternatives to the traditional view.  To this end, the remainder of this introduction indicates an overview of some issues related to how “history of science” is construed with the given subject matter, and notes some points of my method.

Of course, some will immediately object to discussing “Oriental” intel­lectual developments in a “Western” context, on grounds of relevance.  As our century’s leading historian of science, Sarton, put it when he decided to deviate from his previous practice, to delete Indian and Chinese contributions from a book purporting to be a general history of science, such contributions “lack signification for us Western readers.”[13]  Some might not go that far, but will insist that, while Eastern developments are “no doubt of interest in their own right,” it is still the “Western intellectual tradition” with which we are con­cerned, even if the former admittedly may have made ideas available to be used by the latter.  It will be said that my proposal to compare the Milesian with other “archaic” ideas is like comparing apples with oranges.

However, this notion of a “Western intellectual tradition” in fact has a considerable meta-historical component. It involves so basic an imposition of concepts upon reality as to insist that it was still a “European” tradition which was “transmitted” by Islam during the Middle Ages, for example, in the work of Averroës on Aristotle.  In short, we are to think of a river which is at best fed by tributaries here and there, even though the river “flows into” such a tributary at one point before it “re-emerges” downstream.  But as Needham notes in discussing Chinese contributions to modern science over the ages, a better metaphor is several rivers flowing into an ocean.[14]  Indeed, neither the “Plato” whom Galileo embraced in the picture which Koyré, for example, gives us, nor the “Aristotle” he overthrew in doing so, were the historical personalities transplanted whole across a time span of two millennia; rather, these were certain medieval philosophies, to which said personalities as well as other Europeans, Moslems, and possibly even Indians, had contributed.[15]  We in fact live in a single world, within which exchange of ideas between cultures has probably gone back to paleolithic times, and any attempt to make a rigid separation of “intel­lectual traditions” necessarily involves artifice.

Moreover, the possibility of actual transmission of ideas imputed to the early Presocratics down to us has not been the stress of the philosophers and historians of science who are impressed by them.  Rather, one finds a sense that such ideas were typologically exemplary with respect to (some aspects of) modern science.  This is implicit in Holton’s discussion mentioned earlier.  In discussing the Milesians and their successors Heraclitus and Parmenides, Popper explicitly calls the question of their actual influence on modern thinkers “superficial.”  Rather, he stresses such things as symmetry in their alleged theories of the natural world and their alleged deductive means of arriving at these.[16]  The historian of Greek science Lloyd, following Farrington, is impres­sed that the Milesians allegedly “left the gods out” of their discussions of their subject matter.[17]  Clearly, the notion such scholars have at the back of their minds is one of an Ionian “enlightenment” as a dress rehearsal for modern science’s overthrow of Scholastic philosophy’s theistic approach to the world.  In practice, the construal of what is important from the ancient world to (anti­cipating modern) science (in its strict sense) is not whether one can show his­torical connections of ideas down through the ages; rather, what is important is that the activity concern itself with a posited “natural universe,” or that it not employ deities.  Some might add that the theories should be imaginative.[18]  But in that case we should examine ancient Asia for all this as well.

It is true that studies of “Oriental influences upon” the “Western tradi­tion” have appeared in recent decades.  In particular, as I will note below, Asian ideas are sometimes thought to have been adapted by the early Presocratics, including the Milesians.  Nonetheless, it remains implicit in such studies that it is the Greeks who are the endpoint.  I suggest that the structure of the underlying method, not to mention that of studies which ignore the Orient entirely, recalls Hegel’s assertion that “Oriental thought” constitutes a previous stage, and thus in his view as well as in any view whereby ideas advance with time, a lower stage, to that represented by “Greek thought.”[19]  That view in fact was at least originally conditioned by simple European chau­vinism,[20] apart from Hegel’s methodology in explicitly discussing the Milesians while entirely ignoring texts stemming from pre-classical India in particular.

Hegel’s justification for the latter procedure, no less than the tendency of Popper and others to project a modern model of Galileo versus the Church back onto archaic Greece, can serve to introduce another issue, one which is hermeneutical in character.  Namely, what interpretative values should we give to texts composed under psychological conditions differing from our own in one way or another?  For his part, Hegel says that anything earlier than classical Indian “philosophy” can only constitute “religion,”[21] and thus deletes the Upanishads, among other material.  But can we be sure that we are not distorting the latter by calling them religious, as well as the early Presocratics by calling them philosophical, in implicitly modern senses of these terms?

Actually, that poses the problem too simply.   One sometimes finds philologists arguing against certain criticisms of the historiography of Aristotle or of his student Theophrastus, who indeed called the Presocratics back to the Milesians philosophoi (and who constitute our primary sources for the “metaphysical” opinions of the Milesians in particular),[22] that the former were much “closer” to the latter than are we, and thus were in a better position to judge them.[23]  This assertion has rhetorical effect since the Milesians were “only” some two centuries earlier than the Peripatetics.  However, it presupposes a belief that Aristotle and/or Theophrastus were sensitive to the issue of dif­ferent construals of categories in different periods, and took it into account in their descriptions.  I know of no evidence for this,[24] and, moreover, anyone who has studied archaic Greece from a standpoint which is sensitive to the issue is aware of a marked difference in outlook between it and the classical period.  Meanwhile, virtually the same problem arises in considering the intellectual history of India.  Deussen, among others of the early Western Sanskri­tists, largely adopted the position of the medieval authority Śankara (whose prestige in India may match that of Aristotle in the West) in interpreting the Upanishads.  This approach largely reduces their outlook to that of the classical period texts, the Brahma Sūtra and the Bhagavad Gītā, to yield what many have agreed is a distortion.[25]  Thus, far from deferring to late ancient or medieval “auth­orities” on a given early ancient world development, we are entitled to suspect that the imposition of late ancient or medieval categories, no less than modern ones, on the development, might mislead us in attempting to understand it.[26]

In general, the common view that the thought systems of ancient Greece and of ancient India were “very different” rests on comparison of their respective classical period literatures. It cannot be assumed a priori that such “apples and oranges” extend back to archaic times.

There is also an issue concerning the “component” of the mental represen­tations of archaic Greece (or of archaic India, etc.), not only in the mental representations of later societies, but also in those of earlier societies.  Namely, in claiming that the Presocratics criticized “myth,” what is usually meant is that this is essentially the same as the myth of so-called tribal society, under the presumption that the myth of the societies of the recent past studied by anthropologists is approximately that of prehistoric tribal society.  Apart from whatever difficulties may be created by that presump­tion,[27] it is assumed that myth in, say, Hesiod, has not developed with respect to “primal” myth.  To some extent this view has been challenged by Kirk, who feels that the myths we find in Homer, etc., are more “rational” than those studied by Lévi-Strauss.[28]  That may or may not be the correct characterization of such differences as are there, but we certainly should keep in mind the possibility of significant developments in thought before the Presocratics.

Another factor which in practice acts particularly relentlessly to shore up the traditional view of the Milesians is that, while tradition in any area of study is entrenched almost by definition, in this case our actual data renders an effective challenge especially difficult.  Our primary data on any of the Presocratics is sparse, but we have exactly nothing in Thales’s own words, a single sentence purporting to be in those of Anaximander, and one or two for Anaximenes, while the ancient secondary sources for their opinions are at least subject to difficulties associated with the hermeneutical considerations noted earlier.  Anyone trained in modern historical method would say that there can be no question of discussing the alleged achievements of the Milesians at the level of confidence one has in the case of a Kepler or an Einstein, where our data are far more extensive (even if one agrees with the general principle that, given the very nature of the subject, “every generation must rewrite history”).  To be sure, the philosophers and philologists of the last century who have rendered the view in question hoary did not overly concern themselves with the niceties of modern historical method.  Popper appears to forget this when he says that we are not allowed to challenge the traditional view of the early Presocratics, unless the evidence against it is “extremely strong” (emphasis in the original).[29]  In short, one is in the position of someone whose eyesight is impaired and can only see the emperor dimly, but who is asked to believe that he wears new clothes because everyone says he does.

Moreover, academic specialization itself (virtually a categorical imper­ative for our age) tends to act against taking work on non-Greek ancient contributions to science seriously.  That is to say, in practice history of science insofar as it concerns the ancient world is currently considered to be the province of specialists on Greece, and it is to them that authors of general histories of science, as well as arbiters of publication in the field, defer.  This puts anyone wishing to argue that, say, archaic India should be taken seriously in any overall history of science in a difficult position.  Possibly you can argue with authors of general works on history of science that they should defer to Indologists as well as to classicists.  However, you then risk attack from opponents of “generalism” because you confront general authors rather than “serious scholars” on ancient “science” (virtually all of them classicists, who can hardly be expected to judge work incorporating detailed non-Greek ancient material).  In this way, what amounts to professional etiquette can simply rule out of court what people not socialized by it might consider important.[30]

            To be sure, one can acknowledge injustice here, but still observe that serious logistical difficulties will accompany any attempt to multiply the scope of ancient history of science so as to include more than Greece in a meaningfully integrated view.  I myself think that one can criticize the inventor of the “axial age” concept, Jaspers, not so much because he exaggerates the importance of the period to overall history as some have held, but in that, in attempting to integrate five societies from the Eurasian land mass into a common picture, his general characterization of it in “philosophical” terms remains overly vague, and in that his detailed discussion of individual personalities within it in­volves him in a problem of such great scope that he must rely on arbitrary choices as to which authorities are to be followed on the doctrines of Buddha, Jesus, etc.[31]  The problem may be too large for one person.

But in that case it is a question of finding the social energy required to overcome the difficulties.  A start has been made in the organization of confer­ences where specialists in the various ancient societies come together and, as it were, compare notes.  However, as I believe the example of this procedure reported in Daedalus 104.2 (1975) in particular shows, such occasional activity by specialists does not in itself solve the problem of integrating their contri­butions into a cogent overall view.  Ideally, there ought to be an institute with a scholar specializing in each of all relevant aspects of the matter, plus an appropriate generalist or two, where all such persons work together on a full time basis (whether specifically on history of science or that of philos­ophy or whatever).  To be sure, at least in the United States, given the prior­ity which is allotted to the humanities in general, and to study of the ancient world (especially the non-European portion thereof) in particular, such an institute is unlikely ever to be funded.

Now, I must insist to anyone who might wish it were otherwise that it is simply not possible to settle all the issues just discussed in one fell swoop, instantly to bring in the millennium which finally will establish the role of archaic Greece in the history of science. Yet, neither can one believe it is useless to say anything at all until the millennium arrives.  The present work is for the simple purpose of involving the concerned scholar in a moderately detailed discussion of how the Milesians in particular might compare with others, within Greece and without, whose intellectual/emotional states there is reason to believe entered the general stream of world history and might be presumed to have had effects on it, and who lived in comparable times or perhaps during comparable stages of social development (not distinguishing carefully between these two alternatives for present purposes).  The following rough meth­odological principles are followed herein, in the hope that the reader will understand them to be heuristic, not The Method Of Study for archaic society.

First, as is consistent with the statement just made, I do not follow the procedure of beginning by defining every term to be used with razor-sharp precision, as if I were a philosopher who had suddenly decided to try my hand at writing history, and presumed that it could be fit into such a mold.  Rather, given that the problem of establishing the role of archaic society in the history of science in a cogent fashion appears to be an essentially new one, I approach it the way scientists themselves often approach a new problem, i.e., by first investigating the gross properties of the object under consideration.  It proved fruitful to study the general properties of the element hydrogen, for example, prior to concern over the fact that its atomic nucleus sometimes occurs in isotopic forms, so that one has deuterium or tritium rather than hydrogen pro­per.  I see no a priori reason to begin with intricate issues here either.

Second, concerning what “science” constitutes, for present purposes I will concede on the one hand to the currently dominant trend in philosophy of science, to the effect that empiricist epistemology or practice is a secondary consideration in defin­ing science, and on the other, to that in studies of the Presocratics, to the effect that the presence or absence of empiricism in them is also secondary.[32]  We will only be concerned below with the quality of the mental repre­sentations, apart from their agreement with any posited objective world, and will merely consider how those attributed to the Milesians compare with others which purport to give some reasonably unified notion of the world.

Third, rather than use terms deriving from concepts like “philosophy,” “religion,” or “myth” as the logically primitive units of discussion, I will examine the texts in literary terms.  I do not speak of the “ontology” of a certain Upanishad passage which says that “being” was alone at the beginning but consciously decided to bifurcate; rather, I compare this as a literary motif or theme (without undue concern over the difference between these con­cepts) of an original entity which in one way or another gives rise to other entities, to other examples of such employment.  In doing so, I am aware that the notions of literary motif and theme are also post-archaic concepts, but I believe that using them is less likely to create the impression that the Upanishad author was consciously a literary theorist, than speaking of the passage’s ontology might lead one to believe that he or she was consciously an analytic philosopher solely because of my own usage.  In methodological discussions among so-called historians proper, it is de rigueur these days to inveigh against “presentism,” where what is meant is, roughly, the imposition of modern cate­gories on the past.[33]  As noted above, the problem of archaic society is actually even more complex.  Yet for all that, we must employ language in discussing the past, and can only hope to keep distortion to a minimum.

It immediately follows from this that one eschews taking whether or not a given archaic thinker employed anthropomorphic deities in his or her description to be itself definitive in evaluating same.   The archaics can hardly have been aware of anticipating modern thought, be it religious or philosophical; they were concerned with grasping their world in some sense, not ours in our sense.  It might be presumed legitimate that they used such words and concepts as were available to them.  The interesting issue is how they employed their terms.

Fourth, a related point is that we are not concerned here with how or whether archaic thinkers anticipated modern geographically-defined intellectual systems, be these “Eastern” or “Western.”  The problem of tracing out how ideas interacted with social and other realities in the land mass incorporating Asia, Europe, and Africa, between the times of the ancient and modern worlds, is certainly large and difficult.  I lack special expertise in it, and will say nothing about it beyond what is indicated above.  However, I must discuss the early part of the Iron Age itself, and will endeavor to avoid employing notions of “the first Western ideas” about this or that, or other locutions which tend to impose models of later history upon earlier history.

Fifth, I am sorry, but I cannot accept the revealed truth of the emperor wearing new clothes solely because I cannot prove he is naked.  Rather than insisting on the definite truth or definite falsehood of statements in cases where the data are marginal, I shall attempt to remember to use words connoting variable probability of truth or falsehood.

Sixth, I attempt to “muddle through” (as the English are said to put it) the contradiction between generalism and specialization, as follows.  As an individual who happens to be working on the problem under essentially solitary conditions, I have been able to concentrate my studies on the texts of the archaic periods of Greece, India, Israel, and Iran, by paying attention to their respective classical periods only insofar as needed to understand the archaic periods, for all that the classical literature of any given one consti­tutes the backbone of the standard training of an actual specialist in it.  For present purposes, such “archaic literature” essentially constitutes the following texts.[34]  In Greece, Hesiod, the Homeric Hymns, the fragments of the Presocratics down to Parmenides, and the lyric and iambic poets of the 7th and 6th Centuries, B.C.E.  In India, the arguably most important four of the earliest Upani­shads (Aitareya, Taittirīya, Brhadāranyaka, Chāndogya), the mythological material incorporated into the texts of the Brāhmanas as we now have them, and the fragmentary remains of the heterodox sects prior to Buddha.  In Israel, those Old Testament strata which are reasonably reliably dated to the period between the David-Solomon “united kingdom” and the Babylonian Exile.  In Iran, the Gāthās of Zoroaster.  (I do not attempt precision on whether the term “archaic” strictly should refer to a universal chronology or to a stage of social/cultural development.  However, most of this literature was put into its now surviving form over a period of less than half a millennium in universal time, albeit it is difficult to date any of it precisely.)  In each case, I generally call earlier literature “tribal” and later “classical.”  To be sure, there are borderline cases which are not easy to pigeonhole, including Homer at the early end, and Parmenides, Buddha, and Isaiah at the later.

 

II.        IMAGINATIVE UNIFICATION IN MYTH/COSMOGONY-COSMOLOGY.

            In 1905, the universally acknowledged supreme “scientific genius” of our century, Einstein, introduced a theory called special relativity which is argu­ably memorable for reasons other than how well it satisfied formal criteria, e.g., was more rational than earlier theories, or explained the empirical data in ways that they had not.  One could make a case that it is revered because it boldly dispensed both with common sense (invariance of simultaneity) and with esoteric concepts (the “ether”), to give a vision of the world which was both comprehensive and strikingly new.  To be sure, all this was in the context of then-perceived problems.  Indeed, I think it appropriate in the following to sample the early Iron Age literature with an eye to indications of global and original conceptions, albeit stressing where the thematic structure suggests concerns broadly similar to those attributed to the Milesians.  Then I briefly consider its context(s), as opposed to that of modern science.

            The first attempt at a world view that one can recognize as advancing beyond “tribal thought,” and that has some explanatory aspect, appears to have been what is preserved in the Zoroastrian Gāthās.  These may have been composed in the latter part of the second Millennium, in the northeast of Iran.[35]  A key passage tells of two opposed principles: “now, in the beginning (were) these (two) spirits/ who are revealed (as) twain ‘in dreams’[36]// both in thought and word,/ (and) in deed, they (are) good and evil//...”[37]  The text goes on to say that it is wise to choose correctly between the two, that originally they created life and non-life, that certain gods (who can be reconstructed as native to the earlier Indo-Iranian period) chose wrongly (implying that others chose rightly), etc.  Other passages elaborate a relatively sophisticated view of a struggle between the two, assigning seven entities resembling angels to the positive one, and estab­lish the entire matter to be under the aegis of an absolute deity called Ahura Mazdā.[38]  The archetype of two principles who create opposed features of the world is certainly attested in the myth of tribal peoples of the recent past.[39]  However, regardless of whether or not one can posit that as actually forming part of his literary-historical background, for his part Zoroaster gives us more of a theology, and expresses it in poetry of some competence.  He certainly downplays actual description of the creation of the observable world, in favor of involv­ing the audience in the age-old struggle between the two entities, sufficiently successfully that the religion/ethics based on it had considerable influence in ancient times,[40] and still survives in something like its original form today.

            A passage in the same Upanishad as the proto-materialist cosmology attrib­uted to Gārgī mentioned in the Introduction is much more concerned than Zoroaster with describing origins.[41]  The first section begins by stating that originally only ātman (usually construed as “self”) existed.  “He”[42] said “I am.”  After some further preliminar­ies, he divided into two parts, giving rise to husband and wife, who united to yield human beings.  The female principle objected to the male uniting with her after he had produced her from himself, and hid by transforming herself into various animals; however, in each case he followed suit, to unite with her and produce the corresponding species.  He also produced fire, semen, and a number of other entities.[43]  Thus differentiation by name and form occurred, all due to ātman, which is to be meditated on as precious.  The second section says that brahman (a principle nominally distinct from ātman, but here apparently equated with it) was one only in the beginning, but did not prosper, and generated essences cor­responding to the three social groups other than the brāmana priesthood, plus some gods, concluding with the śūdra laborers.  He still did not prosper, and created “order” (dharma) to be the “power” (kshatra) of the kshatriya governing group.  A coda of sorts then says that ātman becomes the world of the gods by making sacrifices, the world of the animals by feeding them, etc., and gives some miscellaneous thoughts.  There are explanatory comments scattered parentheti­cally throughout the passage, from an assertion at its beginning that the name of “I” exists because ātman said “I am,” to a sentiment near its end that dharma is the highest principle because it is the power of the highest social group.

            One may grant that the purpose of this passage is not explanation as such, but (as is consistent with the remainder of this Upanishad) to extol ātman as a basic principle. The narrative structure is in fact so loose that there is no explicit indication that the social origins of the second section occurred in time “after” the biological ones of the first.  Yet its appeal is more cerebral than, say, Zoroaster’s, and there is a good deal of “aetiology” of the sort which fulfills a function of some of the myth of tribal society.[44]  There is, to be sure, a certain technical advance.  One is struck in particular by the tour de force character of having the biological origins occur in a natural manner for an “immanent” principle (the “self”), i.e., via organic rather than craft metaphors.[45]  Also, while some Bronze Age myth had accounted for the origin of man-in-labor by saying that he was created to relieve the “lower gods” of drudgery,[46] here a principle (dharma) is added to maintain the system which relieves the governors (and their priests) from labor, more or less openly touted as such.[47]

            A remarkably parallel passage, if perhaps superior at least in literary terms, is the familiar Biblical story of the Creation and Fall, Genesis 2:4b-3:24.[48]  Indeed, it is the locus classicus for any thematic combination of the origin of nature as byproduct of cosmic male/female drama and of that of man-in-labor.  The Upanishad says ātman conquered his fear of loneliness and then divided because he had no pleasure.  Meanwhile, Genesis has it that, after the supreme deity “formed”[49] the creature ’ādhām out of the dust of the “ground” (adhāmā), he did not think it should be alone, and thus also formed the ani­mals, in (failed) attempts to provide it with a suitable companion.  If Trible’s conclusion is correct, this ’ādhām was not yet a gender-differentiated “man,” but became that after “woman” (’iššā) was called such by virtue of being differentiated from “man” (’iš), in the wake of surgery on the ’ādhām.[50]  In any case, as we know, the serpent beguiled the woman, she and the man ate the for­bidden fruit to obtain “knowledge of good and evil,” and all three were punished, in particular with childbirth pain and lust for/subordination to the man allot­ted to the woman, and toil to the ’ādhām until he returns to the adhāmā.

            Let us be clear that, while this narrative constitutes a development from tribal society mythical archetypes at least in part (whatever it may also owe to the Bronze Age), it is nonetheless rather advanced.  True, a relatively primitive heritage is betrayed when we read that the deity anthropomorphically walks back and forth in a garden, and also that snakes eat dust (because of the original serpent’s punishment).  Moreover, the serpent is in part a clear development of the theri-morphic “trickster” archetype exemplified by the North American “Coyote” or West African “Ananse” the spider.[51]  Such a trickster is often in conflict with a “high god” figure over power,[52] and here he acts as catalyst to bring man and woman into conflict with the deity over the “knowledge” which, in part, means power over all things.[53]  While the woman was probably a goddess at some point in the literary pre-history of the narrative,[54] and while she may be an intelligent spokesperson for the human couple in discussing theology with the serpent,[55] her actual decision shows her ancestry in the First Woman who brings on calamity by some act of foolishness, found in tribal myth the world over.[56]  However, the story is part of an extended narrative of considerable scope and sophistication, if we accept the majority opinion which upholds the Documentary Hypothesis in a more or less classic form.  This has it that there was originally a “Yahwist” tract incorporating material appearing in the extant Old Testament extending from our story in Genesis 2-3 down to passages in Numbers or perhaps Joshua, giving one elaborated account of the history of man down to the Israelite conquest of Canaan, probably composed in the late 10th or early 9th Century, B.C.E. in the context of the David-Solomon United Kingdom.[57]  Even if we reject this framework,[58] our particular narrative still appears to be an attempt at explanation of the world in an overtly historical mode, notwithstanding the fact that it considers divinity to be involved in such history.  From a literary-critical standpoint, if we eschew a certain tendency to interpret each aspect in an either/or fashion, we must be impressed with the richness of the narrative’s symbolism.  As exam­ples, “knowledge of good and evil” is also (sexual) power of procreation, and punish­ment of the serpent also symbolizes suppression of the Canaanite fertility cult.[59]  This is in addition to a certain stylistic competence.[60]

            We may introduce the Greeks by way of a narrative, or two narratives, which have been seen as comparable to Gen 2:4b—3:24 since ancient times.  In both of Hesiod’s authentic poems, the first of which is thematically more or less conti­guous with the concerns attributed to the Milesians who would come roughly a century later, we hear of a neo-trickster named Prometheus.  This time he is not theri-morphic, nor are animals mentioned.  He tricked, not the only relevant god, but the most important one (Zeus), obtaining for men, not “knowledge of good and evil,” but fire (presumably symbolizing technology).  This led to punishment, not with woman bringing it on and sharing in it, but actually constituting it, when Zeus created her as a “sheer inescapable snare” for men.[61]  As probably in the Genesis case, certainly the Theogony narrative in particular is part of a longer one.  That is, it is an episode in a work which in part constitutes an explanation, and in part a paean to Zeus, as follows.  After a long introductory hymn to the Muses, the theogony proper begins with the assertion that first Chaos (“Chasm”) came to be, and then Earth, then Tartaros (a sort of underworld), then Eros.  A number of other entities were then generated, some parthenogenetically, some sexually from union of those already existing, thus giving us light, Day, Space, etc., as well as Sea and Sky and some more obscure principles.  Earth and Sky mated to produce the generation of gods the Greeks knew as “Titans,” but most were trapped in their mother’s womb because Sky would not cease sexual inter­course.  Thus their king Kronos severed his genitals, from which drops of blood produced the Furies and some other entities upon striking earth, while the gen­itals themselves eventually produced Aphrodite from the aphros (“foam”) generated when they struck the sea.  After some more births of various principles, eventu­ally some of the Olympians were sired by Kronos with his sister Rhea, but he swallowed them to avoid being overthrown.  She gave him a stone to swallow in­stead of Zeus, so that the latter came to maturity.  He eventually overthrew the Titans, as part of a series of struggles, including that with Prometheus, which finally resulted in his emergence as absolute ruler of the world.  He himself sired some principles to assist in this, of the sort we would recognize as “soc­ial,” although there is a question as to where the authentic series ends and later additions by persons other than Hesiod begin, to close the poem.[62]

            The Theogony does have some striking features, even though the Prometheus narrative itself is arguably inferior to the Genesis story discussed above,[63] and though no one would consider the poem as a whole a profound achievement in comparison with Homer poetically or Aristotle philosophically.  On poetry,[64] for example, while working from a conception of the separation of earth and sky which is indeed attested both in tribal myth and in the ancient Near East,[65] Hesiod has the genitals thrown into the sea by Kronos, whereupon after a long chronon (“time” in the sense of duration), foam emerged from the chroos (“flesh,” said here to be immortal), to generate Aphrodite.  The wordplay is not just quaint, but assists in portraying the resulting sex goddess as a presence both permanent and divine. Concerning the early part of the theogony, Earth is explicitly stated to be the “firm foundation” (hedos asphalos) of (even) the Olympian gods,[66] surely indicating a proto-materialist aspect.  Chaos is likely to symbolize a principle of differentiation, whereas Eros is a principle of unification.[67]  This original triad (excluding Tartaros) is arguably to be read as atemporal, even if the subsequent generations occur in narrative time.[68]  The set Chaos and Earth, plus other entities, has been thought antecedent to air and earth, plus corresponding objects, in Anaximander and Anaximenes.[69]  In any case, the Theogony is not simply “myth” at the level of tribal society.

            Here it is appropriate to consider two Indian texts which seem to parallel the Milesians more than does Hesiod.  First, there is an Upanishad passage which purports to record the teaching of one “Uddālaka” to his son “Śvetateku.”[70]  It includes the following items, among others: an analogy whereby one can “hear the unhearable,” “see the unseeable,” etc., just as one can know that an artifact of clay is really clay per se; a proto-metaphysics whereby existing things are grouped in threes; an experiment whereby Śvetateku learns the material basis of thought by fasting and forgetting his catechisms; and a series of analogies whereby there is something which survives death just as, for example, rivers dis­appear when they meet the sea but their essence remains.  Thus the text attests a comprehensive world view.  It is artistically integrated, especially in that the latter portion is frequently punctuated by a famous, haunting line which I translate, “such (is) reality; thus the self (acts); that (is what) you are, Śvetateku.”[71]  One particular section has Uddālaka say that the original principle was alone, and was “being,”[72] and that (un-named) others are wrong to say that it was “non-being” since nothing can arise from that.  This principle then “thought”[73] it should become diverse, and “begat” fire.[74]  Fire thought the same thing and begat water; and water, earth (or literally, “food”).  This is why we perspire after becoming heated, and why there is abundant food after it rains.  Perhaps contemporaneously with the codification of this passage, Anaximander wrote his own (now lost) book. According to the ancient commentators called “doxographers,”[75] it held that opposites like hot and cold (Simplicius), or principles to produce hot and cold (pseudo-Plutarch), separated out of an original principle which was “boundless” (apeiron),[76] and called divine by Aristotle because the book made it “immortal and indestructible” (athanaton kai anōlethron, I take it a paraphrase).  It also discussed the formation of heavenly bodies in terms of fire and earth, and their dimensions and geometric relations to each other, as well as the genesis of living creatures including man.  Traditionalist commen­tators assume that Anaximander derived all this from logical debate, say, with Thales (as with “Uddālaka” against non-being).  Indeed, Aristotle possibly, and Simplicius definitely, assign specific reasons for his rejection of any of the four “elements” as “archē.”[77]

            The second text is from an extended passage whose result is to extol the ātman principle, by means of one “Yājñavalkya” refuting the opinions of several experts in “knowledge of brahman.”[78]  The text of interest asserts that, while admittedly air is the “thread” (sūtra) by which “this world, the higher world, and all beings” are held together, it is the “inner controller” (antaryāmina), i.e., ātman, which “controls” (yamayati) the same generalities.  I.e., it dwells in, is within, is unknown by, and has other properties with respect to, the earth and a widely varied set of other specific entities.  This parallels an attribution to Anaximenes, the third Milesian.[79]  In the form in which we have it, this is that “our soul (psuchē), being air, holds-together-and-controls[80] us, while[81] breath and air (which are synonyms) enclose[82] the entire kosmos.”  The context according to the doxography is a derivation of other elements from air, via its rarefaction (for fire) or condensation (for water, earth, stone), and an assertion that this air is divine.[83]  The statement employs some late terms so that it cannot entirely be in Anaximenes’s own words, and some even argue against attributing the basic sense to him,[84] but it is reasonably clear that any distortion due to the transmission process will have been in a “materialist” direction, thus at most increasing its difference with the Indian saying.

            Concerning the significance of the foregoing literary survey, I wish to stress that, at least if we eschew the “philosophy versus religion” hermeneutics, these Indian examples, among others, do bear comparison with what is attributed to the early Presocratics.[85]  I do not only mean that they are possible literary-historical antecedents, but that they are intellectually comparable in their own right.[86]  “Uddālaka,” or whoever actually formulated “his” thought, and Anaximander alike go beyond typical tribal myth, at least in that they derive something like what we now call physical elements from some single original principle.  To be sure, of these, the former’s seems more anthropomorphic (it thinks), but the latter’s, less immanent in the world (“immortal and indestructible”).  It is true that the first text proceeds via analogical reasoning to argue its case from cosmogony to quotidian processes, while it is generally assumed (if not necessarily proven) that Anaximander wrote in terms of natural evolution in chronological time.  How­ever, concerning Anaximenes and whoever is to be credited with “Yājñavalkya’s” saying, their texts almost read as if we had two academics operating within the same “paradigm” in attempting to explain the world, while disagreeing on the relative stress to be put on its various aspects.  “Soul/breath”[87] and “air,” or what we now call the psychical and material factors, respectively, are each in­volved in both “holding together” and “controlling,” in more than one sphere of interest, although there is an issue as to which is primary, or perhaps deter­minative of the other.  Some other archaic Indian theories, in particular those attributed to the dissident sects, also seem to compare with those assigned to the Milesians, although interpreters sometimes go considerably beyond the texts themselves in claiming abstract metaphysics existed (as with the Greeks).[88]

            One might conceivably object that such comparisons speak only in rather general terms, and that merely to note a literary parallel is not to take ade­quate account of the differences between the theories underlying the literature under consideration.  However, from the present hermeneutical standpoint we are not to use such an objection as an excuse for any discussion which implicitly or explicitly views the theories in terms of how they solve later problems.  Perhaps, indeed, “Uddālaka’s” failure to consider deductive inference as some­thing inherently more significant than analogical reasoning, which arguably would carry over into some of later Indian philosophy,[89] was relevant to the failure of an Asian Aristotle to develop.[90]  Somewhat differently, already Hegel’s predecessor in these matters, Herder, while giving a generally cosmopo­litan account of the thought of the ancient world, nonetheless complains that the doctrines of Zoroaster eventually led to an oppressive dogmatism.[91]  However, while I personally believe that materialism is preferable to idealism for the conduct of life in modern times, I also believe that I am able to think this (or that the two categories are meaningful), because a proper (material) social basis for it now exists.  The historical evaluation we make (and, all rhetoric aside, cannot help making at some level) of, for example, whether or not soul as well as air was a legitimate candidate for first principle in the archaic period, must at least in part be with respect to the context of that period.