Jack Haven

"The Battle of the Giants"

In Plato's Sophist, Socrates steps aside to allow the two main characters, a stranger from Elea and Theaetetus, to undergo a hunt for the sophist. The sophist, it turns out, uses Parmenides' teaching with regard to Non-Being to hide within it, thereby eluding both the stranger and Theaetetus. Parmenides also hails from Elea, and he, according to the stranger, had said, "For never shall this be forced, ... whatever are not to be; but you in searching keep your thought away from this way" (Plato, 1986, 237A). But if what is not cannot ever be, then image, which is not truly but still somehow is, is inexplicable, and the sophist as an image-maker is not graspable (ibid., 240B-240C).

In order to resolve this perplexity regarding Non-Being, the stranger must begin his discussion by analyzing what others have said about Being. There are two groups of thinkers who have discussed Being. The first group have tried to tell us precisely how many Being is. Their precise accounts have taken the form of myths as they have told us that there are one, two, or three beings, and have put them at war with one another or else given each away in marriage at their turn. The second group have tried to give us a comprehensive account of Being, telling us what sort it is rather than how many. In order to explain the comprehensive accounts of Being, the stranger must adopt a myth of his own. This is where the stranger begins his account of the battle of the giants.

The battle of the giants is an ancient war between two groups. The first group, the giants, would take all of the things that are and bring them down to earth, arguing that the only things that are are those things that can be touched (ibid., 246A-246B). The second group, who the stranger does not name except to call them the friends of the species, argue that the only things that are are intelligible and bodiless species, and that everything else is not Being, but rather some sweeping becoming (ibid., 246B-246C). In order to get an idea about Being, the stranger proceeds to examine each of the two accounts proposed by the giants and the friends of the species, which he hopes to reconcile in order to end the bloody struggle that has been going on between the two of them for so long (ibid., 246C-246D). In this way, the stranger hopes to get an idea about Being that will allow him to see Non-Being more clearly.

In this paper, I will examine how the stranger goes about questioning and gathering concessions from both the giants and the friends of the species in order to reach the conclusion that Motion and Rest are fundamental classes in Being. Next, I will examine how and why mind is introduced, and how Same becomes an essential condition for mind. In the process, the stranger discovers that the account of Being as being both Motion and Rest together is as problematic as the account of Being given by those who wanted to count the beings and say that they were two. The third section will deal with this perplexity and how it is resolved. The final section of this paper will discuss the stranger's hope that the coming to light of Being will bring to light also the other, Non-Being. I will also discuss whether Being brought Non-Being to light at all, or whether, as the stranger suggests is second best, his account of Being had to be pushed through both simultaneously.

It becomes paramount to the dialogue that one cannot be understood without the other. The opposition between Being and Non-Being is far from being as clear as it may appear at first glance. That is why it is so important that Being be examined. All too often, it is the case that we look at the things that are and think that we know them when we are just as confused about them as we are about the things that are not. Parmenides tells us not to consider Non-Being because to talk about it is to say nothing at all, but if Being and Non-Being were so clearly discernible, then it would be readily noticeable that by simply saying that that which is not cannot be talked about we are already talking about that which is not. If that which is not could not be talked about at all, then we should be able to say nothing about it, not even that which I have just said. By saying that that which is not is incomprehensible, I have already said something about it, which is impossible. This is the riddle that Parmenides forces us into, and which the sophist exploits so masterfully. Only a full account of Being, one that reveals Non-Being, can resolve this issue and, we hope, reveal the sophist.

Rest and Motion

The stranger sets upon the difficult task of ending the battle of the giants by bringing their accounts of Being together. The stranger begins by addressing the giants with Theaetetus' help. The stranger is at first skeptical that the giants can be addressed at all, since they are very vehement in dragging everything down to body. They despise everyone who tries to posit that anything that is is bodiless, and they refuse to listen to such a person. Theaetetus says that he has encountered such men before. Theaetetus finds them to be horrible people; he obviously does not side with them (ibid., 246B-246C). Since it is nearly impossible to talk to them about these things without incurring their wrath, the giants have to be dealt with in a different way. The stranger suggests making them better in deed, and if that is not possible, then they must be made better in speech; they must be made to respond more lawfully than they do now (ibid., 246D).

This having been granted, the stranger has Theaetetus respond for the giants as he questions them. First, the stranger asks the giants whether there is such a thing as a mortal animal. The giants agree, and already we begin to see where the stranger is headed. If there is such a thing as a mortal animal, then it must be the case that things can come to be that were not and things can come not to be that were. Death makes that which was that which now is not. Motion is first introduced without being mentioned explicitly. Next, the stranger asks the giants whether they believe that a mortal animal is an ensouled body. The giants also agree, and they, thus, accept that soul is one of the things that are (ibid., 246E). The stranger then asks the giants whether they would agree that there is such a thing as a just or an unjust, or an intelligent or unintelligent soul. The giants agree. Then, the stranger asks, would it not be the case that a soul becomes just or unjust, intelligent or unintelligent, by the presence or lack of these things in the soul? The giants say yes, which forces them to grant that, since justice and intelligence can be present in the soul, they must be something and not nothing (ibid., 247A).

Now that the stranger has forced the giants to admit that justice and intelligence are among the things that are, he asks them whether, then, such a thing as justice would have a body. Theaetetus responds by saying that the giants would now be compelled to respond differently than they otherwise would have, since they are ashamed to say that justice or intelligence either are not among the things that are, or to say that they have bodies (ibid., 247A-247B). If the giants must now admit that some things are but have no body, then body is not common among the things that are. Something else must join them together. The stranger suggests a solution: Being is that which has the power either to affect or to be affected, even if in the smallest possible way and even if only once. Being is power (ibid., 247D-247E). If Being is power, then nothing is by itself. All things are only in the sense that they can either be affected by another of the things that are or affect at least one other of the things that are at least once and even in the slightest way. If Being is power, then things can only be in relation to one another. This serves less as an answer to Being than to foreshadow the direction in which the stranger appears to be heading. The relations of the beings to one another are going to be integral to the coming to light of Being. The giants agree to the stranger's proposal, having no solution of their own to propose. The stranger offers to leave it at that, then, unless, at a later time, things should appear other, again hinting at where we appear to be going with this (ibid., 247E-248A).

The giants are the advocates of Being as Motion. From the beginning they assert that Being must be able to be touched and squeezed. It must have a body that can be affected. The stranger's proposal that Being is power is not alien to the giants. They have accepted it from the start, though they may not have expected to add to the beings also those things that are but have no body. Touching and squeezing are examples of power. Touching can only occur when there are two things: that which touches and that which is touched. If the things that are are only those things that can be touched, then there must be at least two things, and the relation between them implies power. One of the things must affect the other, and the other must be able to be affected. Without this, there can be no touching, and if there were no touching, then the giants would have to say that nothing is, which is obviously impossible; even their natural shamelessness would make them unable to make that statement. Power is, thus, implicit in the position that the things that are must be things that have body and that can be touched. Power implies that things must be able to move. There must be Motion for things to be. Without Motion, things could not be affected. If nothing changes or moves, then there can be no affecting nor being affected. If there is no affecting nor being affected, then nothing can touch or be touched, which means that nothing can be. Again, the giants would be forced to say that nothing is, which they cannot say. Being, the giants have agreed, is power, and power requires Motion to be. Things must move to act, and things that are acted upon move as a result of the action. Motion has become tied to Being, but the stranger will not mention it by name before he takes on the opponents of the giants and brings them down to Earth.

The stranger now turns his attention to the friends of the species, and Theaetetus is asked to speak for them. First, the stranger asks the friends of the species whether they hold Being and becoming to be separable. They agree, and the stranger follows by asking whether they hold that we share in becoming through perception by means of body, but through calculation by means of soul in Being. The friends of the species agree with this (ibid., 248A). What do we mean by sharing, though? The stranger puts forth that sharing is the same as affecting or being affected. If one can share in something, then one does so by means of power (ibid., 248B). This, of course, contradicts the friends' previous assertion that Being is always in the same state in the same respect. If Being can be shared in by anything at all, including by means of the soul through calculation, then Being is being affected by the soul, which affects it by its sharing in it. Being would, then, be forced to move, and it would no longer be as it was.

The friends of the species do not agree with this. Being cannot be power because their conception of Being requires that Being be always in the same state in the same respect. The friends hold Being to be Rest. It is eternally the same, never moving, never being affected by anything at all. If Being is power, however, then Being must move. It must affect or be able to be affected, or Being is not. The friends are caught in the opposite dilemma as that experienced by the giants. While the giants could not say otherwise than that Being is power, the friends cannot say that Being is power without contradicting themselves. They will be more difficult to convince.

The stranger pushes on. He asks the friends whether they think that the soul can cognize and whether Being can be cognized. Since the friends have already admitted that Being can be "shared in" by means of soul through calculation, they are forced to admit this. Is cognition, then, a kind of affecting, whereby something that cognizes is affecting something else which is being cognized, that is, being affected? If Being can be cognized, then it must be able to be affected, which would set Being in motion. To be cognized is to be in motion since, by the act of being cognized, Being has become acted upon and affected by soul. This, the friends cannot admit to, since they would be contradicting what they said earlier: that Being is wholly at rest. Something that is always at rest can never be in motion, so Being cannot be affected by anything ever. Being, if cognition is an affecting, cannot be cognized (ibid., 248D-248E).

The species become apparent to us only now as the stranger describes them. If Being cannot ever be affected by the soul, even slightly, by the act of cognition, then motion, life, soul, and mind must all be absent from "that which perfectly is." Being would be neither alive nor thinking, it would be awesome and holy, but it would stand motionless (ibid., 249A). Theaetetus claims that to concede this would be terrible. This claim relates to the identity of the friends and of the species they befriend. The battle of the giants refers to a great war that took place between the giants and the Olympian gods in Greek mythology. The giants, of course, we have already met. The identity of the friends of the species, it would seem, is that of the gods who dispute against them from up high (ibid., 246B). But if Being and those things that are are held to be the highest things, then it is not the friends who represent the gods but the beings themselves. Being, then, would be the highest among these. To say that Being is neither alive nor thinking is to say that the gods neither live nor think, which is blasphemous. Just as Theaetetus' shame kept the giants from admitting that justice and intelligence are not among the things that are, it is now Theaetetus' fear of claiming that the gods neither live nor think that keeps the friends of the species from admitting that Being stands motionless and unaffected by cognition. Being cannot lack Motion, and the friends of the species must now give way in their endeavor to keep Being always at rest.

The highest being is not explicitly identified with the gods or God, but the fear that the two may be the same gives Theaetetus the impetus to claim that Being must have mind. If Being has mind, then, the stranger asks, can we say that it has this and not life? Theaetetus cannot. If Being has both mind and life, it must have them in soul, to which Theaetetus consents. If Being has soul, then, it cannot stand motionless. Motion must be attributable to the things that are, otherwise Being could not be ensouled, and mind and life cannot be within anything that does not have a soul, since they, like justice and intelligence, can only exist within a soul (ibid., 249A). The notion of Being as power falls away to another, similar notion: Being is Motion. The simple act of cognizing affects Being. Being must move in order to be cognized by soul, without which Being would be wholly inimical to mind. If Being could not be cognized, then it would be able to be Rest, but it would be unable to be affected by mind. This is unacceptable to Theaetetus and to anyone who would say that anything at all can be known. Mind is vital to Being because the highest among all the things that are must be capable of thought. To say otherwise is to say that the highest being is incapable of thinking, and to agree to this would be blasphemous. The friends can certainly never agree to this, since they place the species above themselves. The species are like the gods, and the gods must surely think.

Mind can only exist if the Beings can be put into motion, but the stranger did not need to give Being mind in order to prove Motion. Mind is more important in proving that Being can also be Rest, as the friends of the species had originally held. If Being were only Motion, always moving along, then nothing could ever be in the same state or in the same respect. Being would, in effect, not be being but becoming if it were always moving and being affected. If nothing were ever the same but always moving, then mind could never come to be anywhere at all. Being in Motion allows for mind, but Being in Motion always makes mind impossible. Therefore, Being must be sometimes at rest. Rest and Motion are both integral to Being. The conclusion, then, is that Being must be Motion and Rest both together. Being must be capable of both, or it could not be (ibid., 249C).

Minding the Same

The Same has yet to be officially introduced by the stranger, but it has already made an appearance in showing how mind can exist. Without the Same, mind could not be or come to be anywhere because there would be nowhere for it to be. As soon as the mind put itself to a thing, that thing would have already moved from that place, and mind would hit nothing. If Being were always in motion, thinking about anything at all would be like trying to hit a moving target with no direction whatsoever. Perhaps a more concrete example would serve to better illustrate this point.

In order to think about a chair, which is obviously one of the things that are, we must first know what a chair looks like. We must come to know what it is. The mind acts upon the idea of chair, and the soul is able to cognize it. Afterwards, anytime that we are confronted with a chair, we are able to say what it is because we recognize it. Our mind has settled upon the idea of chair, and chair is recognizable. On one occasion, we might say, we could be confronted with a chair that is not wholly the same as the chair that we have a mind about. This chair has been crushed. It is missing a leg, and the other legs are twisted together. The back is bent and distorted, and it may be painful to sit upon. Still, we can recognize it as a chair because of those characteristics that it shares with our idea of chair. Despite the broken pieces and the missing leg, we can say to ourselves that it is a chair because of what we see that it might have been at one point. The chair that we behold may no longer be a chair as we think of a chair as being, but it is certainly recognizable. Chair is the same as itself.

If chair were not the same, however, then we would have a problem. If our idea of chair changed every time we saw a new chair, then we would be unable to have a mind about chair. Every chair is different, and if our idea about chair were to change every time that we saw a new chair, then we would never be able to recognize a chair at all. One day we would think that a chair has four legs, is made of wood, and has a large, ornate back. The next chair we see would disprove this original deduction. Chair would now be plastic with three legs and a small, bendable back. The next chair is blue with one leg and bolted down to the floor. The next is orange with four legs and a back that curves from the seat upwards. We would never be able to make up our mind about chair because chair would never be the same. If chair were never the same, then chair would be nothing at all but always becoming. Mind would have the same trouble grasping chair as we have trying to grasp smoke with our bare hands. The being of chair would be wholly evanescent; every time that we thought we had it, we would lose sight of it, and we would have to search for it again. Mind cannot be about anything at all because nothing really is if Being is always in motion and never the same.

The sophist provides a case-in-point about this very thing. So far, we have been unable to grasp the sophist because he continues to appear in different places. Every time that the stranger has tried to grasp the sophist by using his art of separation, the sophist has slipped away by being something else other than what he seems to be. If the sophist were to continue moving about in this way, then neither the stranger nor Theaetetus would ever come to know what the sophist is. They cannot think about the sophist if the sophist continues to trick them by constantly moving about. Since we know that the sophist is something, then we must be able to hold on to him if only he can be caught. He must come to rest somewhere in Being; the sophist must be the same as himself sometimes, or he is totally ungraspable. Chair, similarly, must be the same as itself, or the mind would be unable to say what chair is with any certainty. If chair were always jumping around among the beings, like the sophist appears to, we would never be able to say that the chair is the same as itself, since the chair would be something else just as soon as we tried to say that it was the same as itself, and mind could never keep it in place long enough to think about it. Being must have the ability to come to be at rest, then, or mind could never hold on to anything that is. Being stays the same as itself, in the same way and in the same respect, so long as it stays at rest, and this is the only way that anything can be grasped by mind. Mind must come to hold Being down at rest, or nothing could ever be known.

The Dualist's Perplexity

Being, the stranger concludes, is both Motion and Rest together, but this comprehensive solution to Being leads to a problem that the stranger had already criticized the precise thinkers for failing to notice. Motion and Rest are two; we are counting Being again, and this is always a recipe for disaster. To say that Being is Motion and Rest is similar to saying that Being is hot and cold (ibid., 249E). First, we must remind ourselves what the problem was with saying that Being is hot and cold. Then, we must examine why saying that Motion and Rest both are is just as problematic when we consider them in a similar way.

The dualists say that Being is a pair of opposing principles, and the stranger uses hot and cold as examples. If we propose hot and cold both to be, then we must explain what "to be" means. Is this "to be" something separate from hot and cold? If it is, then "to be" would be a third principle, and there would now be three principles altogether: Being, hot, and cold. If, however, we say that both hot and cold are as a pair, then they must both be part of Being, in which case there is really only one: Being. Conversely, if we say that only either hot or cold are that which is, then we must surely conclude that the other is among the things that are not, and only one of them is after all (ibid., 243D-243E). To say that there are two opposing principles that both are is problematic because we fail to say what they are or what it means to say that they are. Being cannot be described in this way without asking for trouble.

When we say that Being is Motion and Rest both together, we come into a similar issue. In saying that Motion and Rest both are, how are we saying that Being is? Is Being something separate from Motion and Rest, or is it together with them somehow? If both Motion and Rest are because they are parts of Being, then it turns out that Being is the only thing that really is; it would be simpler to say only that Being is, which is really saying nothing at all except that Being is itself. Furthermore, if Being encompasses both Motion and Rest, this being the reason for which they both are, then Being would be both in motion and at rest simultaneously, which is obviously impossible since one of these precludes the other. On the other hand, we might say that either Motion and Rest is that which is, but this returns us to the problem of the last section. If Motion and Being are the same, then Rest is not at all Being, which means that it is not. If only Motion is, then, all the things that are are also in motion, which means that there can never be mind about anything. There is nothing at rest if Being is always in motion. Similarly, if only Rest is that which is, then Motion is that which is not. Everything would be at rest, and Being would be motionless, lifeless, and thoughtless. Being could also never be cognized, since cognition affects Being and, thus, moves it. Being must be able to be both in motion and at rest, but neither exclusively nor simultaneously.

We should be able to say, then, that Being is neither Motion nor Rest. Being must be something separable from both. But if this were true, then Being would be, of its own nature, neither in motion nor at rest. This is also impossible. If something is not in motion, we always say that it is at rest; if something is not at rest, then we must be able to say that it is in motion. Neither of the three options are available to us, and the comprehensive solution to Being that we had tried to deliver has failed us. Being cannot be both Motion and Rest, but it cannot be wholly separate from Motion and Rest. It cannot be either Motion and Rest because that would make Being either always in motion or always at rest, which we have already shown is impossible in concluding that Being is Motion and Rest both together. Being must be outside of Motion and Rest, but it cannot be entirely separable from them, since Being must be either in motion or at rest at any given time, but never at the same time.

This perplexity about Being comes about because the stranger assumes that everything is in the same way. He does this when he considers justice; justice can only be inside of a soul, and it can only be known to be within a soul by means of the soul's being just. Similarly, Motion is because Being must be able to be in motion. This does not necessarily mean that Being is in the same way that our idea of chair is. Chair is more concrete than Motion. Chair is whether or not someone sits on it, but Motion only is insofar as things can move. One demands a power relation, the other does not. Then again, the stranger may still be onto something, and the assumption may be a logical one to make. While a chair need not be sat upon in order for it to be, it still requires that there be a possibility for it to be sat upon. We can still know that the mangled heap discussed in the previous section was a chair, but we do not consider it to be a very good chair if we cannot sit upon it comfortably. When we imagine a chair, we think of it as being something upon which one can sit. If it is not such a thing, then it fails to fit our idea of chair. Chair does not have to be sat upon, but it must include the possibility of one's sitting. The power relation is implied in the being of chair and explicit in the being of Motion, but it is there in both cases.

This aside, Being continues to be perplexing. The revelation that Being is just as difficult to understand as Non-Being allows the stranger to say that perhaps the coming to light of the one will allow the other also to come to light. If we can discover what Being is, then we will also be able to discover Non-Being. This may also be an assumption. Being and Non-Being are both perplexing, to be sure, but neither is perplexing in the same way. We are confused about Non-Being because we find that we must be able to somehow say that Non-Being is without contradicting ourselves, which is difficult to do. Non-Being is not by definition, so we cannot say that it is unless we say how that is possible. The perplexity of Being, however, cannot be in its being. Being is; we know this because the very nature of Being is that it is. If Being were not, then what could be? The perplexity of Being, instead, lies in what sort it is. Being must be in motion or at rest, but it can be neither both always nor either simply. It is both together, but it cannot be both simultaneously, since we can never say that something that is in motion is also, at that very moment, at rest. It can also not be the same as either Motion or Rest because the being of one would preclude the other, which is impossible. In order to break the perplexity of Being, we must be able to show not that it is, which is what we must do with Non-Being, but how it can be Motion and Rest both together.

The Coming to Light of Non-Being

When the stranger describes the equal perplexity of Being and Non-Being, he says that we can now expect that as the other of them comes to light, either more dimly or more clearly, so too will the other come to light (ibid., 250E-251A). This foreshadows not only the solution to the perplexity of Being, but also that to the perplexity of Non-Being. Being must be able to be both in motion and at rest, but neither simultaneously, nor either always. Motion and Rest exclude themselves from each other, but both must somehow be able to relate to Being, since both Motion and Rest are, but Being can only be one of them at any given time. The stranger comes to the conclusion that the things that are must be able to affect one another, that is, to mix with one another in some way. Not all of the things that are must be capable of mixing because, as Theaetetus notes, this would allow Motion to rest and Rest to move, neither of which is possible. Motion and Rest would, however, be able to mix with Being, so that Being can be both Motion and Rest together, but not at the same time. Then, Motion and Rest can be among the things that are without being each other and contradicting themselves.

All things come to light as being because they mix with Being itself. Motion and Rest both are because they both mix with Being, but neither is Being itself. In a sense, then, Motion and Rest are not Being, but they still are. They are other than Being, which is the answer proposed by the stranger. Being is the same as itself, and all of the things that are must mix with it in order to be, but nothing is the same as Being. All of the things that are, beginning with Motion and Rest, are other than Being. Same and Other reappear as the solution to the problem of Being. Motion is the same as itself; we can always say that Motion is Motion without a problem. The same is true of Rest; Rest is Rest, which is intuitively obvious. Rest is the same in relation to itself, but Same is also different than Motion and Rest because neither Motion nor Rest are the same as each other. Nor can Same be the same as Being because then all of the things that are would also be the same, which is contradictory if Motion and Rest both are. Motion and Rest must be other than each other, other than Being, and other than Same. Other, then, also must be, and it must be separate from everything else that is since all the things that are are other than everything else that is, except for themselves, which they are the same as. If Being were other, then everything would be other than everything that is, which would make things even other than themselves. Motion would then not be able to be Motion, which is wrong for the same reason we said it was obvious that Motion is Motion; Motion would no longer be able to be the same as itself. Same and Other, then, are fundamental classes other than Being, Motion, and Rest.

The coming to light of Being was supposed to bring to light also Non-Being, but it only does so in a sense. Non-Being is still darkness, which is why the sophist can hide in it so easily. Being is difficult to see because it is so bright; Non-Being is difficult because it is dark. The two are different in their perplexity, so resolving one does not bring the other out in the same way. We cannot say that Non-Being is ever brought to light because Being was brought to light. If Being is brought to light, then we must be able to know Non-Being by its continuing to be dark. In fact, the only thing that we can really know about Non-Being is that it is not Being. It is other than Being; this is its defining characteristic. The only thing that we need to know about non-chair in order to say that it is non-chair is to know that it is other than chair. As long as we know what chair is, we can say that anything that is not chair is non-chair. Non-chair is only non-chair by virtue of its not being chair. Similarly, all that we can know about Non-Being is that it is other than what Being is. We must bring to light Being before we can say anything about Non-Being. As with chair, we must first know what Being is in order to say that anything is Non-Being.

The coming to light of Being does not mean that Non-Being can ever come to light. Non-Being can remain dark. This is not a problem, since our perplexity regarding Non-Being only required that Non-Being be. If Non-Being can be said to be, which we can say so long as Non-Being is only other than Being and not its opposite, then the perplexity about Non-Being is resolved. To say that Non-Being is, we must first say what sort of thing Being is such that it can allow Non-Being to be. To do this only requires that Being be brought to light; Non-Being does not need this in the least. The perplexities, as was said, are different, and they must be resolved differently. We may have been confused by both, but we could not resolve both in the same way.

Instead of bringing Non-Being to light, we had to follow the other route the stranger proposed; we had to push the logos through both simultaneously. Being had to come to light in order for Non-Being to be discussed in any meaningful way, but Non-Being could stay in the dark. All that we need in order to say anything meaningful about Non-Being is to be able to say that it is other than Being. To do this, we can simply reach through Being into Non-Being. While the stranger assumes that this is the second best option, it seems that this is our only option, and it is certainly no worse than the first. Indeed, when Being came to light, the logos was pushed through simultaneously. Discovering Being made its other apparent just as discovering chair makes non-chair graspable. As soon as we know what chair is we can point out non-chair. Similarly, as soon as Being becomes apparent to us, Non-Being comes through as its other. We know Non-Being only by knowing what it is other than, of which we now have a logos. This done, pushing it through Being into Non-Being is the most natural thing; it happens almost by itself.

Non-Being, however, does not remain wholly in the dark. Since it is only other and not opposite to Being, Non-Being comes to mix with Being in the same way that Other mixes with Being. It is in this way that Non-Being comes to be as well as not to be without contradiction. Since Non-Being mixes with Being, it must come to light right along with the rest of Being, though this only happens insofar as Non-Being is. Non-Being can only be said to be in the light in the same way that we can say that Non-Being is within Being. Insofar as it is, it has come to light; insofar as it is not, it must remain in the dark. This is how the stranger is now able to discover the sophist, who has been hiding in the darkness of Non-Being. By allowing Non-Being to be in a sense, we allow it to come to light just enough so that we can not only say that it is, but also look into it to find the maker of images, which are but also are not. Just as Non-Being only is in a sense, it has only come to light in a sense, enough to force the sophist out into the open, where he could finally be grasped.

References

Plato (1986). Sophist (S. Benardete, Trans.). Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Plato (1996). The Sophist (E. Brann, P. Kalkavage, & E. Salem; Trans.). Newburyport, Massachusetts: Focus Publishing.