#1 ·
I'm making this thread because of that weird off-topic mess about Heraclitus over in the other section.
In that unfortunate debate about Heraclitus, a lot of people—at least in my book—were just totally wrong about him.
Let me list a few of those blunders.
People claiming he’s a dialectician; saying he’s somehow responsible for communism; arguing he justifies war; thinking his whole philosophy boils down to panta rei; or acting like Bertrand Russell’s take on him actually matters.
First off, the most insane claim: that Heraclitus is somehow on the hook for communism. That’s so easy to debunk because the argument itself is a total circle. Basically, they say Heraclitus is to blame because Hegel misinterpreted him, then Marx misinterpreted Hegel, then Vladimir Lenin misinterpreted Marx, and boom—there you go. It’s all Heraclitus’s fault.
Like Ludwig Wittgenstein said, EVERYTHING can be misunderstood. And if someone gets you wrong, that’s on them, not you. Unless you were actively trying to trick them, which I really don't think was the case here. I'll explain why later.
Look, I’m no expert on communism. In philosophy, I mostly follow my heart rather than some intense critical drive. If I don't like something, I don't even want to think about it. But from what I remember of my college sociology lectures, the core pillars of communist theory include stuff like: pure rule by the people; atheism; and social development toward equality based on economic laws. None of those three things have anything to do with what Heraclitus wrote about.
Heraclitus on the "rule of the people" and "equality":
What kind of minds do they have? They trust the folk singers, yet their teacher is a light unto themselves, because they don't realize that 'many are bad and few are good.' (104)
To me, one man is worth ten thousand if he is the best. (49)
The Ephesian people would do well if all the adults just hung themselves and left the city to the kids, after they chased away Hermodoros, their best man, shouting: 'Let none of us be the best, otherwise let him be the best somewhere else and among others.' (121)
Donkeys would rather choose straw than gold. (9)
So much for his "inclination" toward equal governance for all citizens.
Heraclitus on "atheism":
There is one wisdom: to know the spiritual power that governs through everything. (41)
Man is childish before the divine, just as a child is before man. (79)
The One, which is the only wise thing, will and wants to be called by the name Zeus. (32)
The Sibyl, speaking with an excited, unsmiling, and almost trance-like voice possessed by a god, pierces through the millennia. (92)
The master whose oracle is at Delphi neither speaks nor hides, but hints. (93)
Then there's the third point: explaining his supposedly "godly" dialectical way of thinking.
The word "dialectics" doesn't even show up in Heraclitus's work. That's a Platonic term, and Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel is the one who brought it into the historical timeline of thought.
Plato started out as a follower of Heraclitus—his first teacher was the Heraclitean Cratylus—but later, his encounter with Parmenidean thought became huge. Hegel basically projected that tension—the clash between Heraclitean constant flux and Parmenidean absolute stillness—onto history. He acted like there was some actual historical influence between Parmenides and Heraclitus or vice versa. But that's nonsense. It has nothing to do with Heraclitus. He didn't think in terms of historical progression at all.
Life is a child playing with blocks: a kingdom of children. (52)
Born, they want to live and face mortal fates—or rather, to rest—leaving children behind to start the cycle of mortal fates again. (20)
On the edge of a circle, the beginning and the end are the same. (103)
The nature of every day is the same. (106)
There is zero historical progress happening here.
''Panta rei'' is actually a Platonic phrase used to summarize Heraclitean thought. But it isn't a fragment from Heraclitus himself; it's Plato's interpretation of the Heracliteans from a century after he died. Sure, Heraclitus cared about process, instability, and change. But also:
I can't even... I honestly don't have the words. Just... wow. So, let's talk about logos. Like, what even is it? People throw the word around all the time, but honestly, it’s kind of a mess when you actually try to pin it down. It’s that core logic, right? That underlying reason or principle that makes things make sense. It's everything. It's the structure behind the chaos. I feel like if we don't get a handle on this, we're just spinning our wheels in the dark. It's heavy stuff, I know, but it matters. Really. ...which is always there... And even though everything unfolds according to that logos... (1)
The earth spreads out just like an ocean, following that same old logos it used to follow before it ever even became solid ground. (31B)
Reason is something we all share. (113)
Look, if you’re actually listening to the logos instead of just listening to me... honestly? It’s pretty smart to realize it’s all the same thing anyway. (50)
Thinking clearly? That’s easily the biggest flex you can have. But actual wisdom—that's a different beast. It's about speaking the truth and just... living in sync with how things actually work, you know? Like, really listening to nature instead of fighting it.
So, like, there’s this one thing that we all share—something that exists on an ontological level even before all the visible, messy process stuff of the world actually kicks in. Logos..
Look, regarding Bertrand Russell—he’s kind of a minor player in the grand scheme of philosophy, right? I mean, he just doesn't hold a candle to someone like Heraclitus. Sure, his writing has some absolute gems in there, but those sections where he tackles Nietzsche and Heraclitus? Total nonsense. Honestly, I think the reason he trips over his own feet when talking about Heraclitus is because he’s so biased against Nietzsche. Since he can't stand Nietzsche, he just ends up bashing his idol, Heraclitus, along with him. It’s like he’s actively avoiding actually understanding Nietzsche at all. And honestly, it feels political. With the whole shadow of fascism looming back then, people started twisting Nietzsche's ideas into this fake "will to power" thing that the Nazis loved, and I think Russell is just reacting to that mess.
And then there’s that one famous fragment—you know, the one that basically acts as the smoking gun for this whole argument.
Fate is the absolute king of everything. It's the ultimate boss. It can elevate some people to godhood while dragging others down to nothing, turning some into total slaves and setting others free. (53)
Look, Heraclitus isn't out here giving anyone a green light, especially not for war. To say he "legitimizes" something would imply his quotes actually dictate how we handle our business, but that’s just not how he rolls. He doesn't expect that. Honestly? He probably expects to be totally misunderstood—and honestly, he's right to.
Even when they hear it, people who just won't listen act like they're stone deaf. Seriously. It’s like there's a wall up.
So, even though we all share this same universal logos, most people just go through life acting like they’ve got their own private superpower for reasoning. Total delusion, right?
Honestly, so many people who try to tackle stuff like this don't actually get it—not even after someone tries to explain it to them. But they still walk around acting like they’re experts. It's wild.
They can't even listen or speak. (19)
He’s not talking to the masses. Period. He isn't out here trying to validate any specific agenda or movement. Honestly, if he actually cared about starting some kind of political war, he could've easily jumped in. But instead, he just walked away from all that royal prestige—you know, the kind of old-money, high-society honor his family was built on—and completely checked out of politics altogether. He didn't go around shouting his ideas on street corners or trying to convince every random person he met. No, he tucked his book away in a temple dedicated to Artemis. Like, seriously, he put it in a temple. It’s like what Diogenes Laertius said: he basically wrote it to be as cryptic as possible, just so only the people actually capable of grasping it would find it. It's pretty obvious he doesn't want this to be some mass-market bestseller, let alone use his work to back any political stances. That whole scene is just way too close for comfort for him.
And here we go again... sigh.
Fate is the absolute king of everything. It’s the ultimate boss. It treats some people like gods and others like just regular folks. It turns some into slaves and sets others free. (53)
If we look at that whole divide between the free and the enslaved through the lens of what we usually call "war"—and I mean, if we actually want to wrap our heads around it instead of just jumping to conclusions—how do we even begin to process it? Like, how do you make sense of the fact that war can make some people look like gods while turning everyone else into mere mortals? What kind of war are we even talking about here?
Taking some Heraclitean advice right here:
Don't go jumping to conclusions about the big stuff. Seriously. (47)
Taking over for me here... let's talk Heidegger:
''Ta harmony Consonance? It’s not just being indifferent. It’s not some boring, peaceful agreement where you just push all the opposing sides under the rug to make everything look smooth. That's not what we're talking about. Honestly, it's the exact opposite: when you actually face a real conflict head-on, *that's* when true consonance happens. It forces every clashing force to finally find its own boundaries. And I don't mean "boundaries" like some cage or restriction—it's more like finding your space, defining who you really are, and actually fulfilling your purpose. So, if everything in existence lives in this kind of consonance, then conflict and struggle have to be the very things that define the foundation of everything. Period.
And oh, while we’re on the subject... what about Nietzsche?
So, here’s the deal: the real foundation has to be this raw, primal freedom that lets opposites actually exist—you know, like total chaos versus strict order. It isn't just about forcing chaos into some neat little box or shape. It’s more about a kind of rule that lets that wild, ancient messiness and the necessity of law clash head-on, while still keeping them both hitched to the same yoke. And the trick is having the freedom to handle that yoke yourself. You can't get stuck being all rigid and stuffy like some textbook professor, but you also can't just drift off into a complete, drunken stupor where nothing matters. You gotta find that middle ground.
In that unfortunate debate about Heraclitus, a lot of people—at least in my book—were just totally wrong about him.
Let me list a few of those blunders.
People claiming he’s a dialectician; saying he’s somehow responsible for communism; arguing he justifies war; thinking his whole philosophy boils down to panta rei; or acting like Bertrand Russell’s take on him actually matters.
First off, the most insane claim: that Heraclitus is somehow on the hook for communism. That’s so easy to debunk because the argument itself is a total circle. Basically, they say Heraclitus is to blame because Hegel misinterpreted him, then Marx misinterpreted Hegel, then Vladimir Lenin misinterpreted Marx, and boom—there you go. It’s all Heraclitus’s fault.
Like Ludwig Wittgenstein said, EVERYTHING can be misunderstood. And if someone gets you wrong, that’s on them, not you. Unless you were actively trying to trick them, which I really don't think was the case here. I'll explain why later.
Look, I’m no expert on communism. In philosophy, I mostly follow my heart rather than some intense critical drive. If I don't like something, I don't even want to think about it. But from what I remember of my college sociology lectures, the core pillars of communist theory include stuff like: pure rule by the people; atheism; and social development toward equality based on economic laws. None of those three things have anything to do with what Heraclitus wrote about.
Heraclitus on the "rule of the people" and "equality":
What kind of minds do they have? They trust the folk singers, yet their teacher is a light unto themselves, because they don't realize that 'many are bad and few are good.' (104)
To me, one man is worth ten thousand if he is the best. (49)
The Ephesian people would do well if all the adults just hung themselves and left the city to the kids, after they chased away Hermodoros, their best man, shouting: 'Let none of us be the best, otherwise let him be the best somewhere else and among others.' (121)
Donkeys would rather choose straw than gold. (9)
So much for his "inclination" toward equal governance for all citizens.
Heraclitus on "atheism":
There is one wisdom: to know the spiritual power that governs through everything. (41)
Man is childish before the divine, just as a child is before man. (79)
The One, which is the only wise thing, will and wants to be called by the name Zeus. (32)
The Sibyl, speaking with an excited, unsmiling, and almost trance-like voice possessed by a god, pierces through the millennia. (92)
The master whose oracle is at Delphi neither speaks nor hides, but hints. (93)
Then there's the third point: explaining his supposedly "godly" dialectical way of thinking.
The word "dialectics" doesn't even show up in Heraclitus's work. That's a Platonic term, and Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel is the one who brought it into the historical timeline of thought.
Plato started out as a follower of Heraclitus—his first teacher was the Heraclitean Cratylus—but later, his encounter with Parmenidean thought became huge. Hegel basically projected that tension—the clash between Heraclitean constant flux and Parmenidean absolute stillness—onto history. He acted like there was some actual historical influence between Parmenides and Heraclitus or vice versa. But that's nonsense. It has nothing to do with Heraclitus. He didn't think in terms of historical progression at all.
Life is a child playing with blocks: a kingdom of children. (52)
Born, they want to live and face mortal fates—or rather, to rest—leaving children behind to start the cycle of mortal fates again. (20)
On the edge of a circle, the beginning and the end are the same. (103)
The nature of every day is the same. (106)
There is zero historical progress happening here.
''Panta rei'' is actually a Platonic phrase used to summarize Heraclitean thought. But it isn't a fragment from Heraclitus himself; it's Plato's interpretation of the Heracliteans from a century after he died. Sure, Heraclitus cared about process, instability, and change. But also:
I can't even... I honestly don't have the words. Just... wow. So, let's talk about logos. Like, what even is it? People throw the word around all the time, but honestly, it’s kind of a mess when you actually try to pin it down. It’s that core logic, right? That underlying reason or principle that makes things make sense. It's everything. It's the structure behind the chaos. I feel like if we don't get a handle on this, we're just spinning our wheels in the dark. It's heavy stuff, I know, but it matters. Really. ...which is always there... And even though everything unfolds according to that logos... (1)
The earth spreads out just like an ocean, following that same old logos it used to follow before it ever even became solid ground. (31B)
Reason is something we all share. (113)
Look, if you’re actually listening to the logos instead of just listening to me... honestly? It’s pretty smart to realize it’s all the same thing anyway. (50)
Thinking clearly? That’s easily the biggest flex you can have. But actual wisdom—that's a different beast. It's about speaking the truth and just... living in sync with how things actually work, you know? Like, really listening to nature instead of fighting it.
So, like, there’s this one thing that we all share—something that exists on an ontological level even before all the visible, messy process stuff of the world actually kicks in. Logos..
Look, regarding Bertrand Russell—he’s kind of a minor player in the grand scheme of philosophy, right? I mean, he just doesn't hold a candle to someone like Heraclitus. Sure, his writing has some absolute gems in there, but those sections where he tackles Nietzsche and Heraclitus? Total nonsense. Honestly, I think the reason he trips over his own feet when talking about Heraclitus is because he’s so biased against Nietzsche. Since he can't stand Nietzsche, he just ends up bashing his idol, Heraclitus, along with him. It’s like he’s actively avoiding actually understanding Nietzsche at all. And honestly, it feels political. With the whole shadow of fascism looming back then, people started twisting Nietzsche's ideas into this fake "will to power" thing that the Nazis loved, and I think Russell is just reacting to that mess.
And then there’s that one famous fragment—you know, the one that basically acts as the smoking gun for this whole argument.
Fate is the absolute king of everything. It's the ultimate boss. It can elevate some people to godhood while dragging others down to nothing, turning some into total slaves and setting others free. (53)
Look, Heraclitus isn't out here giving anyone a green light, especially not for war. To say he "legitimizes" something would imply his quotes actually dictate how we handle our business, but that’s just not how he rolls. He doesn't expect that. Honestly? He probably expects to be totally misunderstood—and honestly, he's right to.
Even when they hear it, people who just won't listen act like they're stone deaf. Seriously. It’s like there's a wall up.
So, even though we all share this same universal logos, most people just go through life acting like they’ve got their own private superpower for reasoning. Total delusion, right?
Honestly, so many people who try to tackle stuff like this don't actually get it—not even after someone tries to explain it to them. But they still walk around acting like they’re experts. It's wild.
They can't even listen or speak. (19)
He’s not talking to the masses. Period. He isn't out here trying to validate any specific agenda or movement. Honestly, if he actually cared about starting some kind of political war, he could've easily jumped in. But instead, he just walked away from all that royal prestige—you know, the kind of old-money, high-society honor his family was built on—and completely checked out of politics altogether. He didn't go around shouting his ideas on street corners or trying to convince every random person he met. No, he tucked his book away in a temple dedicated to Artemis. Like, seriously, he put it in a temple. It’s like what Diogenes Laertius said: he basically wrote it to be as cryptic as possible, just so only the people actually capable of grasping it would find it. It's pretty obvious he doesn't want this to be some mass-market bestseller, let alone use his work to back any political stances. That whole scene is just way too close for comfort for him.
And here we go again... sigh.
Fate is the absolute king of everything. It’s the ultimate boss. It treats some people like gods and others like just regular folks. It turns some into slaves and sets others free. (53)
If we look at that whole divide between the free and the enslaved through the lens of what we usually call "war"—and I mean, if we actually want to wrap our heads around it instead of just jumping to conclusions—how do we even begin to process it? Like, how do you make sense of the fact that war can make some people look like gods while turning everyone else into mere mortals? What kind of war are we even talking about here?
Taking some Heraclitean advice right here:
Don't go jumping to conclusions about the big stuff. Seriously. (47)
Taking over for me here... let's talk Heidegger:
''Ta harmony Consonance? It’s not just being indifferent. It’s not some boring, peaceful agreement where you just push all the opposing sides under the rug to make everything look smooth. That's not what we're talking about. Honestly, it's the exact opposite: when you actually face a real conflict head-on, *that's* when true consonance happens. It forces every clashing force to finally find its own boundaries. And I don't mean "boundaries" like some cage or restriction—it's more like finding your space, defining who you really are, and actually fulfilling your purpose. So, if everything in existence lives in this kind of consonance, then conflict and struggle have to be the very things that define the foundation of everything. Period.
And oh, while we’re on the subject... what about Nietzsche?
So, here’s the deal: the real foundation has to be this raw, primal freedom that lets opposites actually exist—you know, like total chaos versus strict order. It isn't just about forcing chaos into some neat little box or shape. It’s more about a kind of rule that lets that wild, ancient messiness and the necessity of law clash head-on, while still keeping them both hitched to the same yoke. And the trick is having the freedom to handle that yoke yourself. You can't get stuck being all rigid and stuffy like some textbook professor, but you also can't just drift off into a complete, drunken stupor where nothing matters. You gotta find that middle ground.