Does Heraclitus have a unified philosophy?

Heraclitus’ writings are fragmentary, seemingly unordered, manifold in meaning, if not downright deceptive. By attempting to organize the fragments one can find the broad strokes of a doctrine, but even then many fragments remain out of place, unable to provide concrete truths to serve the main idea. And, still, everything heavily depends on the way one chooses to read them. Yet, as this essay will argue, Heraclitus very much has a unified philosophy. There is a delicate interplay between his understanding of the world and the way this understanding can be expressed – these two poles inform and limit each other. Due to the considerable quantity of Heraclitean fragments, it will not be possible to explicitly engage with each of them. Yet, the developed argument should be able to account for them all. In the first place, this essay will explore how Heraclitus’ philosophy is unified through his concept of the ‘logos’. Then, it will be shown that the very substance of Heraclitus’ philosophy impedes him from offering a unified account through his writings; yet, in the end, his body of work successfully exemplifies his philosophy and becomes a part of the logos.

Understanding Heraclitus’ philosophy requires understanding his concept of the logos. We do so by looking at a most compelling fragment: “The logos, the same for all, no god nor person has made, but it ever was and ever will be: fire ever living, kindled in measures and in measures going out”[1]. This fragment introduces the four main characteristics of the logos, around which our analysis will be structured: the logos is the same for all, it is beyond all things, it involves a process of change, and it is akin to fire.

The first claim, then, is that the logos is “the same for all”. This could be understood as ‘the same for all humans’ or as ‘the same for all that there is’; it will be argued that the latter interpretation is more justified. Heraclitus writes that “the change of the cosmos”, supposedly the movement of the celestial bodies, is regulated by a “certain order”, even a “certain fated necessity”[2]. In another fragment, he writes that the sun “will not transgress his measures”[3], and suggests that it too is bound to follow a certain divine rule. Elsewhere, Heraclitus applies a similarly fateful language to assert that “all humans laws are nourished by a divine one”[4]. In yet another fragment, he describes the transformation between water and earth as a measured process[5]. These happenings of nature and human life seem to be unrelated, but each has in it a certain order. If we understand the word ‘logos’ to mean an order, a guiding principle, then it follows that the logos is present in all things. Perhaps it manifests itself in different ways, but the order that drives each entity seems to be a microcosm of the logos that drives all things. One might then wonder whether the logos, while being one for all things, exists for the sake of all things equally.

This is answered by the second claim, that the logos is beyond any man or deity[6]. What is meant by that is best illustrated in the following fragment: “For god all things are fair and just and good, but people have taken some things as unjust, others as just.”[7] (The use of ‘god’ is misleading, but it is here understood as what is alone and beyond all things i.e. the logos.) The idea is that to the logos, there is nothing that should not be. Because all things are ordered according to the logos, and the logos is one and the same for all, everything is part of an order. An individual who is subject to that order may feel that some aspects are unjust and others just, but that is a consequence of the individual’s limited experience. In the fragment of the fish[8] and the fragment of the donkey[9], Heraclitus provides clear examples. Sea-water, he argues, is foul for people but life-sustaining for fish; donkeys value garbage more than gold. Being limited to one point of view, one will fail to understand that the logos steers all, not just oneself. Heraclitus takes the remarkable stance that the entire universe is ordered, but it is not ordered around anyone or anything. Rather, it is ordered in such a way that everything that exists can indeed exist. “It is not better for humans to get all they want.” writes Heraclitus, “It is disease that makes health sweet and good, hunger satiety, weariness rest.”[10] This fragment in itself justifies the need for a logos that is beyond all things. Any individual entity has too limited an experience, too narrow a point of view to be able to account for all things, and to maintain a coherence between all things. Only the logos is not subject to itself.

This leads to the heart of the matter: what is the function of the logos? As it turns out, the purpose of the logos and its mode of operation are closely tied.  The third claim, that the logos is “kindled in measures and in measures going out”[11], indicates that the logos involves a process of measured change. The logos is not a static order, but a dynamic order. Heraclitus observes that matter is always subject to change, therefore identity cannot be defined by matter itself. This is best conveyed in the two fragments about the river. “One cannot step twice into the same river, nor can one grasp any mortal substance in a stable condition”[12] he writes, but also: “As they step into the same rivers, other and still other waters flow upon them”[13]. The river is the perfect example of something whose identity cannot come from its matter, but rather from its process of continuous change. The first fragment acknowledges that no substance can have a stable identity because all matter is in flux; the second reveals that stable identity can still exist (“the same rivers”) if it is defined by the flux itself. So the identity of any “mortal substance” comes from the process through which it changes. Yet all things are not only in physical flux, but also in metaphysical flux. This was shown in the fragment on the fish[14]: a same sea can be foul and life-sustaining. An entity is in metaphysical flux because it is experienced in different ways – its definition is inter-subjective. At this point, the identity of any “mortal substance” cannot only come from its own process of change but must come from the process through which all things change, both in themselves and in relation to one another. This process is the logos: shared by all, beyond all. Still, it may not be obvious how something with opposing characteristics can have a unified identity. Heraclitus attempts to illustrate how this can work in practice, by showing how such situations already exist in everyday life. “The counterthrust brings together, and from tones at variance comes perfect attunement”[15] he points out. The lyre is an example of how, quite literally, tension between opposite forces results in harmony. Heraclitus goes further to claim that “war is shared and conflict is justice, and that all things come to pass in accordance with conflict”[16]. Not only is it possible to achieve harmony from conflict, but conflict is necessary for harmony. This has been hinted at previously, in the fragment on disease and health[17]: one can only exist if its opposite does too. Even more to the point is the example of the fish[18]: for both fish and people to exist at the same time, sea-water must be able to be simultaneously foul and life-sustainable. Thus, in a universe where change is eternal and things are at the same time themselves and their opposite, Heraclitus posits a logos that accounts for change in all things. The logos maintains identity through change, as well as coherence and harmony between opposites. The logos is what allows for all things to exist.

Lastly, Heraclitus describes the logos as “fire ever living”[19]. This should not be seen as a strange return to Milesian material monism, but as the perfect symbol for the logos. In the first place, fire is more a process than a substance: it is continuously changing, it can never be still. Moreover, fire cannot exist by itself, it must be burning something in order to be. As it does so, it brings what it is burning from one state to another. Then comes its more important characteristic: “All things are requital for fire, and fire for all things”[20]. Anything can be transformed by fire; this means that no substance can pretend to eternal changelessness as long as fire exists. Similarly, the logos embodies the unescapable change that all things must undergo; or perhaps, the fact of this eternal change – both physical and metaphysical – is what requires the existence of a logos. Perhaps Heraclitus saw the permanent flux and yet the stability of it all, and in that paradox he caught a glimpse of the logos.

Therefore, if by ‘Heraclitus’ philosophy’ we mean his theory on the fundamental nature of the universe, then it is very much unified. It is unified in his idea of the logos, an eternal flux that accounts for the physical and metaphysical change of all things, that maintains the stability and coherence of all. This concept informs his ontology of identity, of opposition, of interaction. It is best summarized in his own words: “from all thing one and from one thing all”[21]. Yet, fully understanding the logos is impossible. One can understand parts of it: that the sea-water is not foul for the fish, that the river is still itself although its waters have changed, that the old were young[22]. But to understand it all, one must understand how the sea feels to the donkey, the donkey to the old, the bow to the dead, perhaps even the dead to the soil. Which leads to our next problem.

As we have seen, it is impossible to fully understand the logos, and it follows that it is impossible to fully describe it. If all things are always changing, one cannot record the nature of any one thing through any sentence, fragment or book. In the first place, because it would have to account for how every other thing experiences that one thing; secondly, because that account would have to be renewed at every moment in time. In his fragments, Heraclitus makes it clear that the purpose of his writings is not to provide a comprehensive report on the order of all things. He famously says that “Much learning does not teach understanding”[23], thus creating a distinction between being taught something and understanding it. How, then, can one achieve understanding? “Whatever comes from sight, hearing, learning from experience. This I prefer.”[24] he writes. In these two fragments is expressed the idea that the logos can only be understood through experience, and not from passive learning. The reason for this is given by his definition of “thinking well” and “wisdom”, which is “perceiving things according to their nature”[25]. There is a thread between this fragment and the two previous ones: to be wise is to understand the nature of things; this understanding is achieved by experience. Moreover, Heraclitus says that “Thinking is shared by all”[26], indicating that the capacity for wisdom is shared by all. So, while one cannot understand the nature of all things, anyone can increase their understanding of the nature of some things. This is due to the fact that everyone and everything is ordered by the logos – we all experience this continuous change. If we are aware of this change as we experience it, we are understanding at least the nature of our experiences. If one understands how the river that they step in today is different and yet the same as the one they stepped in yesterday, and if one understands how their relationship with the river has changed, then one has at least understood the movement that occurs between the river and themselves[27]. In this way, the more one experiences, the more one understands. This idea also appears in the fragments that Heraclitus writes on the soul. Heraclitus suggests that souls are fiery[28], and that they are responsible for correctly interpreting one’s experience[29]. Elsewhere he says that the soul is boundless “so deep is its logos”[30], and that it increases its own logos[31]. From these four fragments, the soul appears to be similar to the logos in kind and in function: the ordering principle for a given entity. Then, as one experiences and understands more, their soul expands and starts accounting for more than just themselves. Ultimately, the way to achieve understanding is plainly summarized by Heraclitus: “It is wise, listening not to me but to the report, to agree that all things are one.”[32] He discloses how understanding comes not from being told of how the logos operates, but from witnessing it first hand. Eventually, one should come to the conclusion that the various movements that they have experienced are part of a single, greater movement: the logos.

Yet, although Heraclitus cannot give an all-encompassing description of how all things change, he weaves into the very fabric of his writings a sense of how the logos operates. He does so in two ways. Firstly, by using concrete everyday situations as either examples of how the logos manifests itself, or as allegories for how it can operate. “The way up and down is one and the same”[33], for instance, is a clear example of identity being preserved through inevitable change. With this fragment belong many others, such as the fragments on the fish[34], on the donkey[35], and on the river[36]. The fragment about the lyre[37], on the other hand, seems to be an allegory for how the logos maintains coherence between opposing forces. Indeed, in a seemingly related fragment Heraclitus says that “The hidden attunement is better than the obvious one”[38], hinting at the existence of a similar but more profound mechanism to maintain harmony between all things. Secondly, Heraclitus’ writing style itself is an expression of the logos. One often finds wordplay that lends multiple meanings to a same saying. An example of this is when he writes: “The name of the bow is life; its work is death”[39]. A first paradox is that the word ‘bow’ is the same as the word ‘life’ in Greek, yet the bow is used to kill. At the same time, the reason for this killing is often to sustain life (in the case of hunting). There is a double opposition: between means and purpose, between name and function – yet the object is one. In this way, Heraclitus reveals on how many levels the movement between opposites permeates the world. This flux is also apparent in the way his book is structured: the fragments are not linked to one another in a strict order. The relationship between fragments is not fixed, they add to one another, they enforce nuance. There is a duality even in the function of fragments: they are not supposed to teach understanding, yet understanding should arise from them.

This leads us to argue that Heraclitus’ body of work is itself assimilated into his philosophy: indeed, it is not so much a description of the logos but rather an expression of it. His book is, too, subject to eternal change. And, as was shown earlier, this is apparent in every fiber of it, from the content to the form. Heraclitus has created a structure designed to awaken a sense of the logos in the audience. The content of the fragments makes the audience reconsider past experiences under the lens of the logos, and then engage in new ones; the form of the book serves to prove that the logos is present in all things. In this way, Heraclitus avoids contradicting his own theory: he does not teach, he suggests. Once the suggestion is made, the presence of the logos becomes overwhelmingly clear. Then, one can start understanding their experiences.

Heraclitus understands the logos as the unique dynamic order that allows for all things to exist. The logos drives the physical and metaphysical change of each thing, preserving identity and maintaining coherence. In this way, Heraclitus’ philosophy is unified. Yet, no one entity can fully comprehend the logos, and Heraclitus’ writings simply prompt us to understand more. His body of work is an edifice that is meant to be observed and interpreted, with the purpose of awakening in the onlooker a sense of the logos, a curiosity, a realization.  It is not a description of the logos but an expression of it: the logos permeates the content, the meaning, and the form itself. In this way, Heraclitus’ writings are assimilated in his philosophy – and the whole is further unified.