Descartes' Cogito

Descartes's Meditations on First Philosophy contains one of the most convincing metaphysical arguments that has ever surfaced in the field of philosophy. The cogito argument seems to survive the most radical form of skepticism and provides Descartes ground from which he can develop a complete metaphysic. The cogito argument serves as the base premise for his overall metaphysical thesis. However, upon critical investigation it becomes evident that the logical qualities of the cogito and other formulations of the principle are not as clear and understandable as its intuitive qualities. One could interpret the cogito as a self-evident proposition (as Descartes did in the Meditations on First Philosophy), a rhetorical tautology, or an erroneous categorical syllogism. What is interesting is that in any interpretation, the cogito remains one of the most psychologically meaningful and intuitively true principles of all time.

After removing his entire epistemological framework in Meditation I, Descartes needed a place to stand in order to build his other arguments. He needed to assert the fact that he exists with absolute certainty in order to make descriptive arguments about anything else that might exist or be known. Descartes carefully formulated the cogito as a statement rather than an argument in the Meditations on First Philosophy, stating that “this proposition (pronunciatum) I am, I exist, is necessarily true each time it is expressed by me, or conceived in my mind.¹” He carefully avoids making the inference that occurs in the famous formulation “Cogito ergo sum” by removing the inference indicator “ergo” from the statement. This was most likely deliberate due to some of the possible logical problems that arise from inferential formulations of this principle.

If the cogito is interpreted as inferential (which the use of “ergo” suggests), then it necessarily has a missing premise. The full formulation of the argument would look like this:

P1. I am thinking

P2. All things that are thinking, exist

--

C. I exist

A well known argument against this interpretation is that P2 does not survive Descartes's radical doubt. In Meditation II Descartes dismisses the knowledge that there exists types of things that are capable of thinking. According to Descartes's arguments in Meditation VI, one must first know that there is a God to maintain the knowledge of external things and their properties, such as thinking things and their existence. This objection was formulated in the Second Objections against his Meditations of the First Philosophy:

You are not yet certain of the existence of God, and you say that you are not certain of anything, and cannot know anything clearly and distinctly until you have achieved clear and certain knowledge of the existence of God. It follows from this that you do not yet clearly and distinctly know that you are a thinking thing, since, on your own admission, that knowledge depends on the clear knowledge of an existing God; and this you have not yet proved in the passage where you draw the conclusion that you clearly know what you are.²

According to Wikipedia, Søren Kierkegaard offers another critique against Descartes's cogito as a syllogistic argument.^* The syllogism is formulated differently, as it does not contain the trouble premise “all things that think, exist.” Even without this premise, this formulation contains an interesting problem. It seems to presupposes I 's existence:

P1. All X are things that think
P2. I am that X (All I 's are X)
C1. Therefore I think

C2. Therefore I am

C2 does not follow from the premises. I must be presupposed to exist before it can fit into the category X. In other words, I must exist before I can have the property of thinking. The critique mentioned before made exactly this point. However, there is good reason to suspect that Kierkegaard left out the premise “all things that think, exist” for reasons other than that it is inconsistent with Descartes's radical doubt. The premise is by itself logically moot, because if a thing has any sort of property, it must exist to have that property, but the property itself does not provide the entity existence. It is not proper to think that things exist because they have a certain property. The problem premise could be logically rephrased to “I exist, and I have the property of thinking.”

In his response to this objection, Descartes explicitly denied that the cogito is a syllogistic argument, but that it is instead a self-evident proposition:

When I said that we can know nothing for certain until we are aware that God exists, I expressly declared that I was speaking only of knowledge of those conclusions which can be recalled when we are no longer attending to the arguments by means of which we deduced them. […] When we become aware that we are thinking things, this is a primary notion which is not derived by means of any syllogism. When someone says 'I am thinking, therefore I am, or I exist'. He does not deduce existence from thought by means of a syllogism, but recognizes it as something self-evident by a simple intuition of the mind. This is clear from the fact that if he were deducing it by means of a syllogism, he would have to have had previous knowledge of the major premiss 'Everything which thinks is, or exists'; yet in fact he learns it from experiencing in his own case that it is impossible that he should think without existing. It is in the nature of our mind to construct general propositions on the basis of our knowledge of particular ones.³

In Descartes's interpretation, the cogito principle is a self-evident proposition. He claims in analogy that these types of propositions are understandable without a certain epistemological framework (his being outlined in Meditation VI) by admitting that an atheist “can be clearly aware that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles.” However, he continues “that this awareness of his is not true knowledge, since no act of awareness that can be rendered doubtful seems fit to be called knowledge.³” It seems that he is claiming that a self-evident proposition is clear and understandable independent from knowledge of it, and thereby functions as a true premise for the conclusion that God exists, who is responsible for giving Descartes knowledge.

Descartes seems to fall short in responding to this critique in two ways. It is unclear how the cogito can be only a proposition, and not a syllogistic argument. It seems that the proposition uses the condition of thinking to assert the necessity of existing. If it remains a syllogism, then it is quite a stretch to say that the argument can be truly independent from one's knowledge of its terms; of course this syllogism is valid, but testing its premises for truth value requires one to have knowledge of both thinking and the self (or, the thing that is thinking). On the other hand, conceiving the cogito as a self-evident statement and not an inferential argument is difficult. The difference between an argument and a self-evident statement is not intuitive, and Descartes falls short of articulating the exact logical differences. Why would a self-evident proposition not have the same problem as a syllogistic argument, being that Descartes is not able to know for certain that he is a thinking thing?

Jaakko Hintikka offers a very strong theory which states that the cogito is a special “performative” statement that is also in effect inferential. The statement functions as a self-evident proposition; every time Descartes thinks of his existence, or doubts it, or contemplates anything of his mental state, it is necessary that he exists, otherwise there would be a performative contradiction. In effect, it is similar to a situation where a friend knocks on your closed office door, to which you reply “I'm not here!” Not being there would be a direct contradiction to you performing this action (speaking). The same contradiction would occur if Descartes thought to himself “Do I exist?... No!” Descartes began to articulate this aspect of his theory in the second response to critiques on his meditations, as I previously quoted. However, Descartes stopped short. Hintikka's theory continues to explain how a performative proposition has effectively the same inferential feature of a syllogistic argument, without having premises with conditional truth values.

There is no incompatibility whatsoever between saying that cogito, ergo sum is a performance and that it is an inference. There is no need for one to deny, even if one should claim that the Cogito is essentially performative, that in it sum is inferred from the cogito, provided that the sole basis of this inference is the fact that the denial of the corresponding implication "if I think, then I exist"-namely, "I think, but I do not exist"-is existentially inconsistent (self-defeating).⁴

The main difference, he claims, is where a syllogistic conception of the cogito gains its persuasiveness as opposed to a performative conception:

[The cogito's] persuasiveness is largely due to the fact it is existentially self-verifying to say or to think "I exist"; which fact is virtually identical with the fact that it is existentially self-defeating to say or to think "I do not exist." [...] On Weinberg's view, the certainty of sum is derivative; it depends (i) on the certainty of the fact that he is thinking as well as (ii) on the certainty of a necessary connection between thinking and existence. The persuasiveness of the Cogito, on this view, is not due to the self-evidence of an actually contemplated sum but to the prior (logically, if not temporally, prior) certainty of the statement "I think" plus the certainty of the principle "one cannot think without existing" (fieri non possit, ut id quod cogitet, nisi existat).4

Hintikka's perspective resolves the main problem that arises when defending cogito under Descartes's radical doubt. Hinktikka's fleshed out illustration supports Descartes's defense that there is no need to rely on knowledge to prove the validity of its proposition.

Even in the light of Hintikka's defense, there may still be problems with the cogito. Many of these problems arise due to one's own personal epistemology. It is of course more practical and fair to critique the cogito based on Descartes's own terms, and all of the critiques mentioned so far have been consistent with Descartes's own epistemology. However, I see one large contradiction in his epistemology that directly relates to the cogito, where he claims in Meditation VI that he can conceive of his mind distinctly and independent from the objective world. This certain awareness of the mind is of course necessary in the cogito.

His defense is that there exists in his mind both images (the triangle) and concepts (the chiliogon), and that the images are found from perception of the objective world. On the other hand, the concepts can exist only in his mind independent from the objective world. Therefore, there is a distinction between the objective world and his mind. I see this as an unknowable distinction in the terms of Descartes's radical doubt; in order to draw the line between one's mind and the objective world, one must have awareness of both. The problem as it relates to the cogito is how Descartes can know the I in the proposition. Without distinct knowledge of himself, he may be able to argue that something exists, but he cannot make any ontological descriptions of himself or any other conception he is aware of.

There is a very interesting relationship between epistemology and metaphysics. The terms of one are consequential to the terms of the other. I believe the problems that arise over the course of the Descartes's meditations and the development of his metaphysic are a result him attempting to work from his initially blank epistemology. He starts by throwing away all knowledge and by doing so, he necessarily throws away all ontology. It makes sense then, that the first place he starts is the most basic for both; I think, I am; knowledge, existence; epistemology, metaphysics. These statements do not contain the descriptions that Descartes seeked to develop with the meditations. To make these descriptions, one must rely on the subjective perceptions of the entity that creates the epistemological and metaphysical dialog. Consider for a moment that a ruler is an intellect; its measurements are its perceptions of the world. In its simple epistemology, it knows the inch (or centimeter, depending on its subjective perspective) and thereby makes distinguishes this ontological feature of the world. It could continue in the same fashion as Descartes, and argue “I measure, therefore I exist.” Then it could say, “Well I know my measurements, they are the inch, and there are twelve of them. And my existence has a cause, so it must be that I was manufactured. I could be deceived, but my manufacturers would most likely have given me proper measurement lines. I know these lines distinctly and clearly. I also know that there could be more or less than twelve inches out there, even though I am indivisibly twelve. Since I can make clear and distinct divisions of measurement, but I myself am indivisible, it must be that there exists a world separate from me. This world contains myself, my manufacturer, and the inch.”

This thought experiment is not meant to belittle Descartes's conclusions, but to illustrate that from the same starting point (the cogito) and same line of arguments, a different metaphysic can be found. Starting from the cogito does not give Descartes a chance to “get it right,” in the sense that if all his logical arguments are sound then he has painted an objectively true metaphysic. What it does do is show that Descartes has a built a metaphysic from the ground up, and that all his assumptions come during the construction of his metaphysic.

1Taken from John Veitch's 1901 translation of Meditation II. (Accessed on Google Books)

2From the Second Objections: CSM II 89. Quote taken from René Descartes, John Cottingham, Dugald Murdoch Descartes: selected philosophical writings, Page 139. Cambridge University Press 1988, Cambridge UK: ISBN 0-521-35812-4 (Accessed on Google Books)

*I was unfortunately not able to find a copy of Kierkegaard's original text that the Wiki article cites, nor another credible independent reference on this specific theory. However I think this alternate syllogistic form deserves consideration and a place in my essay. The original citation on wiki points to: Kierkegaard, Søren. Philosophical Fragments. Trans. Hong, Princeton, 1985. p. 38-42.

3From the Second set of Replies. Quote taken from René Descartes, John Cottingham, Dugald Murdoch, The philosophical writings of Descartes. Pages 100-101. Cambridge University Press 1984, Cambridge UK: ISBN 0 521 28808 8. (Accessed on Google Books)

4 Jaakko Hintikka Cogito, Ergo Sum as an Inference and a Performance The Philosophical Review, Vol. 72, No. 4 Duke University Press Oct., 1963. Pages 487-496. (Accessed on JSTOR)

Dialogue in the spirit of Sophist and Statesman

Poet

Socrates: We have painted excellent portraits of both the sophist and statesman and we are well on are way to digging out the philosopher. But wait! It seems these experts are missing their good friend the poet. It would be unfortunate indeed for us to overlook his beauty.

Visitor: You're right Socrates. We will have to find him quickly though, because we will certainly need our strength to tackle our next target. The poet is a tame goose in comparison to the mighty philosopher.

Socrates: You are probably right. I am an old man and all this excitement is making me rather tired. To save my strength for the philosopher, I will sit this one out once again and let my young friend Plato here do the talking. His young heart has produced some fine poems. Plato, recite to us the epigram you wrote to Xanthippe.

Young Plato: I will recite my poem, but I should let you know I have not practiced much philosophy. I am not sure that I am the best candidate for the chase. I prefer to rest in the beauty of poetry. Listen: “I am an apple; one who loves you throws me at you. Say yes, Xanthippe; we fade, both you and I.”

Visitor: By god, Plato. Were I Xanthippe, I could not say no after hearing these words. You are as you claim a poet, beautiful, but I wonder why you prefer the beauty of poetry over the beauty of philosophy. Do you think they are both equally beautiful? Or which one do you think is more beautiful and why do you prefer poetry?

Young Plato: I believe poetry is more beautiful. The poet speaks directly from his heart only about beautiful things, while the philosopher speaks about all things that come to his mind. The poet speaks words that teem with emotion, while the philosopher's words are often sterile. Maybe I have not ever seen the true beauty and capabilities of philosophy, in which case I am not a fair judge.

Visitor: Fair enough for now. Although I am not so sure you are correct in making these distinctions between the words of a philosopher and the words of a poet. The best philosophers speak with just as much passion as the best poets. And the words of any good poet are surely true. Or could there be a good poet who speaks falsely?

Young Plato: Certainly no. A good poet speaks the purest truth strait from his heart. Otherwise I would not allow myself to be called a poet.

Visitor: Then I suspect the poet and the philosopher are very similar creatures. We should be extremely alert not to mistake one for the other on our hunt. Speaking of the hunt, where do you suppose we should look first for the poet?

Young Plato: You've found me!

Visitor: Oh and what a marvelous child you are! Speaking on a whim for the sake of entertainment! Do you think your reply represents the poet? Should we use the child to guide us to the poet?

Young Plato: Let's give it a try.

Socrates: I think we already are.

Visitor: If we use the child as a model, it will bring us down a different path than the angler did for the sophist, and the weaver for the statesman. The child will be more confusing, and is likely to change on us, even though on the surface they have telling similarities. But unlike the other models, the child is not a type of expertise. For now, lets use the same dichotomy we used for the sophist.

Young Plato: Fair enough.

Visitor: We suggested earlier (Sophist 219b-c) that there are two types of experts; those that handle production and those that handle acquisition. And unlike the sophist, the poet would certainly take the role of production. As I see it, there are two categories of production. There are persons that produce things for practical use, such as buildings, weapons, and clothes. All other persons produce things for the sake of enjoyment. These items would include things like toys, musical instruments, and plays. Is this an appropriate division?

Young Plato: Quite appropriate.

Visitor: And what type of production is the poet responsible for?

Young Plato: Things of practical use serve to ensure the well being of both the individual and the city as a whole. Practical things could also be tools of some sort. Poetry merely causes the well being of just the individual. So, the poet must produce for the sake of entertainment.

Visitor: But what about the great poet Homer? Don't his stories serve practical use? Many people rely on his poems for guidance when they need advice. Or do people's reliance on his poems differ in some way from their reliance on the laws or education?

Young Plato: I am inclined to view education differently than both the laws and people's use of Homer's poetry in this manner. Education allows individuals to be autonomous on their own critical thinking, while the laws and suggestions in Homer's poetry merely give examples of how to act.

Visitor: That seems fair. You make this distinction on the same grounds that we dismissed the laws as necessary during our hunt for the statesman. But without a critical thinker to guide one's actions, the laws and, by extension, Homer's poetry can serve a practical use.

Young Plato: In this scenario, wouldn't the poet be serving the same purpose as the lawmaker?

Visitor: A very similar purpose, if not the same.

Young Plato: I see this as a problem. When I write poetry, it comes from the urge to express myself, not to guide other's actions.

Visitor: But what about the poem you just recited to us? Didn't you suggest to Xanthippe that she should accept your love?

Young Plato: Indeed she should, but not because I told her to. After witnessing the beauty of my words and feelings for her, it will be her heart that will tell her to accept my love. In this case, it seems that poetry may guide others' emotions. Mere laws and advice cannot influence an individual's decisions in this way.

Visitor: So then poetry has practical use, different from the laws and advice. The poet can use his words to touch the souls of his listeners, which will influence their decisions from the deepest level.

Young Plato: The poet is certainly a powerful creature. Like the songs of the Sirens, the poet's words can enchant any passerby. I am becoming wary of the poet.

Visitor: Let's stay alert to the dangers of the poet as we continue our hunt. We've decided that the poet's production is concerned with matters of practical use. As I see it, experts can be concerned with the production of two types of things: physical objects and immaterial objects.

Young Plato: That is obvious enough.

Visitor: Well then, it is also obvious in which category poetry falls.

Young Plato: In the category of immaterial objects.

Visitor: That's right. But how should we divide this category, so that no single immaterial object shares features of both categories?

Young Plato: I do not yet see how.

Visitor: Me neither, at least not in a way that will help us find our target. Let's try this; we can make a category out of language and words, and another category out of all immaterial objects that are non-language and non-words. Both categories would include things like sound.

Young Plato: You've chiseled out language from other immaterial objects with expert precision.

Visitor: And I see a dividing line between all language.

Young Plato: Yes, I believe I do too. One can either speak language truthfully, about the things that are eternally and universally true. To speak about these things is to speak about the most beautiful things. Otherwise one can speak can speak myths, lies, and nonsense. Surely these things are vulgar, and are not the concern of the good poet.

Visitor: That is approximately where I would draw the line too. But I am not so sure the poet does not concern himself with myths and the like.

Young Plato: How so?

Visitor: Well consider Hesiod's and Homer's poetry. Surely you can think of many examples of far-fetched tales in their poetry that seem unreal.

Young Plato: Yes, there are some questionable tales in their poetry. But even if they are not real, they serve as illustrative and entertaining examples of virtue, or other qualities like courage or honor. Others illustrate the effects of misbehavior. These are portraits of true aspects of life.

Visitor: Then the poet uses myths and metaphors to show images of the truth. But tell me, are the virtuous characters in these poems examples of the form of virtue itself, or do they simply participate in the form?

Young Plato: Of course, they can only participate in the form.

Visitor: So then the poet's images of virtue are only imitations of images. And even if the poet has direct knowledge of the forms of these things, his words only have the ability to reflect images of these forms.

Young Plato: It seems that the line we used to divide language is itself divided.

Visitor: That's right. And so far it seems that the poet only produces things that fall into the category of imitations.

Young Plato: But poetry of this sort is nearly useless. Indeed, imitation is not even a type of production. Their depictions fall flat, and only show one side of the forms. The poet is free to show only the beautiful sides of forms, leaving out the vulgar parts. And this is precisely what the poet will do, since it is his job to produce only beautiful things. The foolish listener might be left unaware of the whole truth, thinking things about forms that are not true. This is not at all an admirable occupation.

Visitor: But if the poet's job is to produce beautiful things, then he must know beauty itself. He need not know the whole form of things, but only the parts of things that participate in beauty. The poet needs not be an expert at all things to create beautiful poetry, but only an expert in beauty.

Young Plato: That's true. But I do not believe the poet actually produces beautiful things. By merely imitating beautiful things, he makes his poetry appear beautiful.

Visitor: But nevertheless, the poet must see the form of beauty in these things to be able to illustrate only these parts. Therefore, the poet's words are illustrations of beauty itself.

Young Plato: That may be the case, but his words are not always about beauty. What the poet often speaks about explicitly are mere imitations.

Visitor: That may very well be the case. But consider this; there are things other than beauty that the poet talks about with complete understanding.

Young Plato: What other things are there?

Visitor: The things that are most close to him. Like you said earlier, the good poet speaks truth directly from his heart.

Young Plato: That's right.

Visitor: These things are the poet's emotions. They are as pure as truth itself. And since the poet speaks of these things directly, he is producing actual images of these emotions. Therefore, the poet's occupation remains in the category of production.

Young Plato: That's true. But what good do these emotions have? Pure emotions are devoid of reason. And the poet combines these unreasonable emotions with imitations of images. What a scornful and dangerous role the poet has!

Visitor: Indeed not many men are well suited to this role.

Young Plato: This role is not suitable for any man.

Visitor: But we might still be able to save the poet.

Young Plato: For what reason?

Visitor: Good reason. We said before that the poet has the ability to speak directly about emotions and beauty. Why must he stop there? If he has the knowledge of the forms of other things, then he will be able to speak about these things too. His poetry could serve to educate people about all important things.

Young Plato: This is the type of man I would like to be. But wait! This man is not the poet, but the wise philosopher. For the poet will only speak of beauty, and ignore other parts of things.

Visitor: Your eyes are sharp my boy; you may very well become that type of man. But I believe there is much more to the philosopher than what meets your eye. We have made distinct only the poet. I think it's time to start our hunt for the philosopher.

Epistemological Theory of Forms

Epistemological Theory of Forms

Plato presents a serious critique of his theory of forms in the first part of the Parmenides. He invites us to improve his theory by illustrating its weaknesses. Many of the absurd consequences that Parmenides finds stem from claims of existence. If one interprets Plato's theory of forms as fundamentally an epistemological theory, many of the problematic claims would either be false descriptions of the theory or their consequences would be more plausible.

The first problems that Parmenides finds with forms is due to their existence as objects of quantity. At 131b-c, Parmenides illustrates the problems that arise if when things participate in a form, they take a “share,” or quantity, of the form. If this is the case, it seems obvious that objects will not be able to participate in the whole form, because one form would exist in many separate objects. Alternatively, things would participate in part of the forms and the forms would be divisible and finite. In this sense, objects would get a share of the forms themselves. The features and characteristics of the objects would be one and the same as the features and characteristics of the forms themselves. This is why Parmenides is able to make the problematic claims that an object that participates in the small will get a share that is smaller than small itself, and that equal objects are only partly equal because they get only part of the form of equal.

If the forms have no finite quantity in the same way as knowledge, then objects would not participate in either part of or the entirety of the form. Instead, it is possible that either part of or the whole object would participate in a form. It is possible to measure the quantity of blue light waves that an object reflects, and say that the object is blue insofar as the amount of blue light waves it reflects. The form of blue could be a distinct concept, the features of which we could compare to the object's own features.

Parmenides finds an infinite regress of forms as a result of the idea that we compare the form as a thought (or concept) with objects. He argues that if the mind's eye sees an object as participating in the form of large, we must know another form of large so that we can compare the lesser form to the object (132a). If this were an accurate description of knowledge, then we would never be able to learn new concepts.

If an individual has knowledge of a form (as a concept), objects could participate in the form when the individual sees similarities between the two. Just like comparing two portraits to see if they portray the same individual, a person can compare his/her knowledge to an object and see if it is the same concept. There need not be a third photograph of the actual person to see that it is the same individual, and a new form need not arise to understand that a concept is the same as its object.

There are two possible ways that we come to learn new concepts. It is possible that knowledge of forms could be, as Plato suggests in the Republic, inherent in us since birth. This easily allows for a type of realism, because forms are universal truths about the world. Objects would come to be as we come to know them as images of those forms, insofar as we can understand the similarities, or insofar as the objects match up with a form.

It is also possible that we come to know the forms by extracting concepts from the outside world. We would necessarily learn the forms through our subjective lenses and refine them with pure reason. An individual would not need prior knowledge to discover the truth of an object. He/she would be able to observe features of an object and then form a concept. An individual who has extracted a form (either a rough image or the whole form) from a specific object could then use that knowledge to recognize other instances of the same form. An invention would be discovered through pure reasoning. For example, an individual would first discover the form (as a concept) of a boat, then see a log as an instantiation of a boat, or a pile of wood and nails as a possible instantiation of a future boat. In this case, the individual did not discover the form by extracting it from the outside world, but by reasoning to it from knowledge that was originally extracted from the outside world.

It might seem that this notion of Plato's forms is not very different than some contemporary realists' notion of true knowledge. This theory and the realist both suggest that we gain knowledge about the outside world through observation and reasoning, and that true knowledge is universal (but in different senses). This theory has a unique notion of truth. A belief would not be true simply to the degree that a person's knowledge mimics the outside world. Instead, there are two conditions that decide truth. A belief is true to the degree that the knower's concept is complete (or, how much of the form the knower is aware of), and to the degree that the object mimics the person's knowledge. This is an important reversal of the former conception of truth. It entails that a person actually makes an object what it is by believing it is something.

If objects come to be as an individual comes to understand them as instantiations of a form, someone might argue that it seems ridiculous that we make objects what they are by our beliefs about the object. This theory would admit that if a child has accurate knowledge about rocket-ships and whole-heartedly believes that a TV box is a rocket-ship, it is in fact some sort of rocket-ship. It would be, however, a very poor instantiation of a rocket-ship. If the child's mother walks in and tells her child that it is just a box, the same object would then be both a rocket-ship and a box. This theory would argue that the box has come to be both a box and a pitiful rocket-ship, and that both instantiations are not mutually exclusive. The object is of course just a pile of meaningless stuff when left unconvinced.

The theory that Plato's forms exist as knowledge instead of metaphysical objects may be a rather different interpretation than Plato intended. Nevertheless, it seems to solve many of the problems that Parmenides finds with other interpretations. None of the consequences I have found are fatal, although they are a little strange. Since absolute truth lies within us and not in the outside world, we need not search every corner of the universe to gain complete knowledge of the world. Instead, we must discover every possible reasonable concept.