20

LUIGI ROMEO

Heraclitus and the Foundations
of Semiotics

If semiotics is accepted as the study, the doctrine, or the science of signs, the history of semiotics must perforce include investigations into the nature of the sign as well as into its evolution at various stages of the historiography of science. While all aspects of history may be relevant to semiotic studies, considerations on the development of the sign according to records are more reliable than speculations on the initial awareness of the sign. That is because such considerations encompass only a relatively short segment of thinkers’ efforts throughout the ages, i.e., barely twenty-five centuries or so, if we limit our research to the West. Genesis of the sign, or the initial grasp of consciousness by Homo semeioticus through speculations reaching back some 50,000 years, however, will doubtless excite inquiries which, no matter how scientific in nature, will always be tainted with conjecture by anthropologists, biologists, archeologists, and semioticists. In this essay I shall limit myself to historiographic aspects of recorded “history”—not necessarily true history—stressing “original” sources collected and analyzed during approximately the last hundred years.

General Observations

For the sake of its history, constraints are imposed upon its researchers insofar as the foundations of semiotics are concerned, constraints arising not only from traditional boundaries of culture, but also from the paucity of systematic inquiries regarding virtually uncoverable and unrecoverable stages of development. In certain cases it is not possible to delve deeply into observable foundations, owing to the interpretation of basic concepts that have been commonly accepted without the ἀρχἠ of meaning having been probed. In other words, key terms are often employed anachronistically and out of context. It becomes necessary, therefore, for scholars to return repeatedly to original sources in the history of science in order that those meanings be reinterpreted in the light of contemporary findings and tools of work.

In regard to the history of the sign, traditional scholarship (by that I mean scholarship en vogue) seems to be entangled in a maze of obscure (or at least colorless) interpretations involving the diverse acceptations in ancient history given to anything deriving from σημ-, such as σημεῖov, σημαίvω, etc. Similar problems stem from anything related to λέγ- and λόγ-. As a matter of fact, it is difficult to separate σημ-from λέγ-/λόγ-in the process of understanding Homo semeioticus. It is, to say the least, bewildering and depressing to read endlessly how, for generations, standard meanings have been accepted as dogma in toto without anyone asking what “logic” supports them in particular contexts. This phenomenon is not new. In the case of Heraclitus, it began with Plato. And that is why stress has always been comfortably laid upon post-Socratic doxography for the interpretation of basic terms when the semantic value was already altered in accordance with the development of new concepts (mostly for applied purposes) in logic, medicine, ars grammatica, and so forth. It is true that terms are sometimes appropriated to suit a particular intellectual climate and to satisfy a polysemous exigency. With regard to semiotics, this has also been the case. Such an intricate state of affairs was further complicated, even in Aristotelian times, by philological and exegetic difficulties.

A typical example related to Heraclitus’ work is Aristotle’s difficulty in relating “ἀεὶ” to the rest of the sentence at the very beginning of what is now Fragment 1 in Diels’ editions. Punctuations before or after ἀεὶ can matter a great deal (changing the accent accordingly) in whether Heraclitus’ λόγoς is eternal or whether men will ever understand it. Of course, a third possibility, if intentionally hinted at by Heraclitus in a semiotic key, would validate the oracular character of his maxims, leaving the reader to interpret it “correctly” after understanding the meaning of λόγoς.

All that we have gleaned to date from the probings of Steinthal 1863, for λόγoς in generell, to the painstaking research of Weltring 1910 for σημεῖov in its budding stage (but after Socrates), deserves—and always will—periodical reanalysis due to current interest, if not for the sake of questioning repetitive taken-for-granted interpretations.

As for the history of semiotics (still to be written in a comprehensive way), its problems are so ancient that it seems almost vulgar to ask why we should return to them after twenty-five centuries, starting, at least, with Heraclitus. One logical answer may lie in that, after all, the pre-Socratic fragments have been analyzed systematically by only a few generations of scholars periodically disturbed, as they were, or interrupted by evils concocted by Homo allegedly sapiens—proving, incidentally, Heraclitus’ views contained in Diels Fragment 80, or even 53. Moreover, each “modern” discipline tends to dissect fragments which emphasize certain fields or points immediately related. Only recently has semiotics begun to exploit the fruitful labors of countless philologists and philosophers who, mostly over the last century, have analyzed Western thought exegetically and at the international level. It will be a long time before semiotics, as a discipline, can succeed in freeing itself from the complexity (and the “complex”) of its intellectual longevity and from a currently factional tendency to stress local and fashionable “politics” où tout se tient—e.g., some literary critics in particular, having drained their methodological resources and historic validations, attempt to use semiotics by forgetting or ignoring its philosophical foundations (cf. the Fall 1974 issue of Diacritics, A Review of Contemporary Criticism, devoted to “Semiotics”).

With a reanalysis of semiotic scholarship, two things become apparent. First, there appears a tendency, if not a need, to either assign a paternity to someone (almost to validate contemporary theories) or to seek reassurance in the auctoritas of past scholars who occupied a central position in the most favorable climate of opinion. For example, Kleinpaul 1888: 103 was probably satisfied with labeling Hippocrates as “der Vater und Meister aller Semiotik”, suggesting perhaps a father for the Western community of thought. (Cf. Sebeok 1971; but also Coseriu 1969: 108, in which Augustinus “enthält die ausführlichste Semiotik der Antike”. Of course, it is already too late in history for Augustinus, and Hippocrates was an applied semioticist only.) In parochial schools such as ours in the West, the title of “Vater”, or its kindred variants in Germanic “Vaterland” tradition, might be subject to contention between, say, Europeans for Locke and Americans for Peirce. No matter what the genealogical tree, whether for the sake of either pedagogical or aphorismic purposes, the tendencies are understandable; and, while intrinsically irrelevant, they nevertheless serve to indicate clearly the state of the art in time and place.

Second, the history of the fragments themselves, i.e., the “fortune” of the pre-Socratic fragments and how they have been utilized to trigger, consciously or not, a novel interpretation—not necessarily a sounder one—on the basis of a different focus [becomes apparent as a semiotic phenomenon].¹

Fragment 93 and a Seed for Semiotics

The tendency of claiming the beginning of semiotic studies each time any term connected with σημ-appears is dangerous, but one cannot afford to disregard a reanalysis of the term and its congeners whenever they surface in earliest historical times. In our case, long before Protagoras for the sake of philosophy, and long before Hippocrates for the sake of medicine, the term involving a semanteme (or free morpheme in American terminology) that contains σημ-is attested in Heraclitus.² Of course σημ-is not merely a term, but a seminal concept represented by it which, if validated, would make its impact felt upon a whole kinship of concepts and their ἀρχἠ.

Now, a basic problem deriving from reanalysis of Heraclitus’ fragments is encountered in Diels 93 (Bywater 11, and Pasquinelli 83). Because of Diels’ availability to most scholars in the West over the last two generations, and the continuous re-edition under Kranz, Diels will remain for the time being as the most reliable corpus in Greek from a philological standpoint. Nevertheless, in the West we are in the Diels “paradigm”, and so be it pending acceptance of a new one, although I am qualmish about humans engaging in a completely new edition of the fragments. Frankly, I believe it would be easier to put a man on Mars.

Fragment 93 is also, from a history of science standpoint, the most ancient document containing a semanteme within a cadre of semiotic theory. (For a derivation of the term semeiotica before semiotics, see Romeo 1977, and cf. Sebeok 1971.) All other semantemes (or allomorphs) are latecomers and found with increasing frequency in post-Aristotelian records. Heraclitus’ Delphic aphorism, the most baffling at first to the neophyte, is recorded as follows: ὁ ἄvαξ, oὖ τὸ μαvτεῖόv ἐστɩ τὸ ἐv Δελφoῖϛ, oὔτε λέγεɩ oὔτε κρύπτεɩ ἀλλἀ σημαίvεɩ.

First of all, the Heraclitean meaning might seem difficult of immediate abstraction for various reasons, most of them simply “historical”. But the primary and most “logical” is that, if after twenty-five centuries we still labor on it, the palm of success should undoubtedly go to Heraclitus for keeping himself alive among us at the purely exegetical level. Another reason arises from the fact that the three verbs in 93 seem to be uttered by the Sibyl in 92, without any trimmings. In other words, those verbs are intentionally chosen by Heraclitus for proper stylistic and oracular purposes. Also, it is commonly agreed that in antiquity no one would “explain” an oracle through audio-visual aids to morons—else it would not have been an oracle to start with—and that has not changed in the last twenty-five centuries. Moreover, it was the tradition of Greek philosophers of the time to be stenoglottic, incisive, compact, if not lapidary in posse and in esse. The contents of the fragments, and particularly in the maxims, was intended not for consumption by olive pickers and wine makers, but for an elite who would transmit culture to another generation.

The other difficulty arises from the danger of taking Diels 93 in isolation and thus interpreting it in any “literal” manner leading to a flat rendering of incoherent or contradictory meaning. However, when it is related to the entire corpus of fragments (especially to those belonging to the same “category”) additional light is shed not only on the single fragment but on the work as a whole. Heraclitus is, first of all, a master of interrelationships, of correlations, of interdependencies: nothing is in isolation (and there is no need for “structuralism” to verify this). Indeed, it is not by pure chance that 93 follows 92 in Diels, that they are 11 and 12 in Bywater, and 85 and 86 in Pasquinelli. Besides, any interpretation must be accepted by taking into consideration not only those fragments immediately related to each other (as are 93 to 92) but all fragments and anything else surrounding the work, whether in the area of drama, religion, medicine, cookery, or even erotica, and whether from doxographic sources or pseudo-works.

The Tradition of Translation

Starting with Diels, how does he render the fragment into German? In a literal way:

Der Herr, dem das Orakel in Delphi gehört,

sagt nichts und birgt nichts, sondern er bedeutet.

Here Diels was over-hasty, and a few generations of “translators” from German erred with him. Let us analyze the fragment. In both Greek and German the syntax is plain enough to be used for homework after a couple of weeks’ elementary Greek or German. There are no structural complexities or punctuative disfunction leading to Aristotelian or sophomoric variants. The problem is merely semantic in terms of correlations among the verbs λέγεɩ, κρύπτεɩ, and σημαίvεɩ nouvel.

According to Diels’ literal interpretation as if made in Aristotelian times, the contents are somewhat obscure, which is why, after twenty-three centuries, Heraclitus continued to be labeled “dunkel” (the term originally used by Aristotle in his De Mundo might have been understandable twenty-three centuries ago, but it is preposterous to employ it still, when there is actually nothing “obscure” in Heraclitus). The verb λεγέɩ rendered by “sagt” is parochial, and σημαίvεɩ by “bedeutet” extremely ungrammatical for semantic and syntactic reasons. In fact, Diels translates roughly:

The Lord, . . . says nothing and hides

nothing, but means.

Naturally I am aware that, although in German it might be more wholesome, no matter how allotropic (even admitting “signifies” instead of “means”), the sense one derives from Diels is zero, since the logic behind that interpretation is tenuous. First, is the oracle to be understood as a function of magic or of religion? In magic, people demand an answer which must be clear especially in terms of positive/negative results. In religion, however, as in the case of the oracle in those times, people asked for, not demanded, an answer. An answer was always given, but how to interpret it was the mystery of the oracle’s intercourse with humans. (Even later in the Roman tradition, the answer to Ibis redibis non morieris in bello depended on how the intonation or pause was imagined. The oracle did not use “commas”, a latter-day luxury.) Too, an oracle must always say something, if not very much; but at the same time it must not hide everything in order to mean something. Otherwise, as in Diels’ interpretation, how could it bedeuten? One should also ask: What does it bedeuten? Undoubtedly, the equation σημαίvεɩ = bedeutet is the literal admission of a generally accepted dictionary listing, without probing into the whole corpus but remaining within proper chronological parameters. Nor did Diels correlate the archaic meaning of λέγεται with that of σημαίvεɩ.

As for ourselves we should also bear in mind the maxim Φύσις δὲ καθ’ ’Hράκλειτov κρύπτεσθαι φιλεῖ (Diels 123), that nature loves to hide, yes, but not to remain eternally concealed from the inquirer. In other words, does intimate nature love to hide in order to trigger a seeking action in the human who must find an answer in himself (Diels 101: ἐδιζησάμην ἐμεωντόν)? By going into the realm of “English” interpretation, things become necessarily more Delphic. Take, for example, one of the most popular English translations with which a whole generation of young minds have struggled (Freeman 1948: 31; but cf. also Freeman 1946):

The lord whose oracle is at Delphi neither

speaks nor conceals, but indicates.

In essence, Freeman’s version is a translation from Diels’ German interpretation, and thus in it one still faces identical problems that are compounded by “indicates” which, according to normal syntax, calls for a direct (and potentially for an indirect) object. In other words, what does it indicate, and to whom?

It is obvious that the meaning of σημαίνω suffers from hyperdefinition, since in similar cases its interpretation does not vary. Hyland, one of the latest interpretations in a century-old tradition, falls into a similar trap (1973: 151), although methodologically he was quite close to grasping a less pallid meaning. Indeed Hyland, along the line of Pasquinelli’s innovations, had grouped at least four fragments and tried to obtain the Heraclitean signifié of λόγος through Fragments 18, 54, 123, and 93, quoted as follows (italics added):

Unless you expect the unexpected, you will never

find it. For it is hard to discover and difficult.

A hidden harmony is better than an apparent one.

Nature loves to hide.

The lord whose oracle is at Delphi neither speaks

nor conceals, but gives a sign.

Here “gives a sign” is more etymological though more fallacious than in previous cases, because semantically the entire sentence lacks color. It is the result of Hyland extracting medical (or clinical) semantic values of later times, as in Galenus, or even earlier in Hippocrates. Surely one can supply a genitive of some kind to the last verb, as Sanetius might have done later; but is the whole maxim, then, satisfactory in terms of “logic”?

There are fortunately less literal interpretations. In French, the one more consonant with Heraclitus’ archaic meaning is from Burnet 1919:

. . . l’oracle de Delphe qui n’exprime ni ne cache

sa pensée, [il veut] la faire voir par signe (Rey 1933: 313).

The “French” tradition continues until the most recent rendition by Ramnoux (1968: 302):

Le Mâitre a qui appartient l’oracle, celui de Delphe:

il ne parle pas, il ne cache pas, il fait des signes.

The only improvement here is that in Burnet the oracle makes one sign; in Ramnoux’s time, he makes several.

Another example expressive of a more “logical” force of thought and meaning, almost with semiotic overtones, is Pasquinelli (1958: 189):

II signore che ha l’oracolo in Delfi

non dice e non nasconde, ma accenna.

This “Italian” tradition continues with few stylistic variants, as in Salucci and Gilardoni (1968: 38):

. . . né dice, né nasconde . . .

So the difference between a French and an Italian Apollo is that in French he does not speak, and in Italian he does not say (anything). Nevertheless, like everyone else, Pasquinelli is still bound to the most used later meaning of λέγω “I say”, but he almost hits the nail on the head with “accenna” (“he hints”, “he alludes”, or “he intimates”).

At this juncture it would serve no purpose to devise a typological inventory of Western language translations. I have read two dozens in West European cultures, and all of them follow the German interpretation given by Diels. How, then, can one place the oracle’s answer into a “logical” and semiotic framework? By considering several frames of reference before validating the final answer. It is, thus, important to reflect upon the following points of reference in mutual correlations:

(1) The archaic meaning of λέγω CO related to an oracle.

(2) The semantic charge of κρύπτω as antithetical to (1) within Heraclitean thought.

(3) The interpretation of σημαίνω outside vocal language.

(4) The assumption that intimate nature loves to hide.

(5) The solution suggested by Heraclitus—to seek within oneself—anticipating the concept of Homo mensura much before Protagoras’ μέτρον.

(6) The implied answer that man himself is an oracle when he searches within himself.

Before reflecting on the points listed above, however, it is necessary to take into consideration certain oracular traditions.

The Oracular Tradition in Greece

In order to correlate the meaning of the three verbs among themselves and the “whole” work, it is important to remember the function as well as the types of the oracles in Greece. At the same time, one should recollect the power that divination exercised not only on the individual but also on society at all levels. Divination through the oracle was, then, the strongest psychological tool in the hands of any individual or group. It was actually “institutionalized psychiatry”. But in my particular assumption of the “intuitive” aspect of the oracular function, it is known that in Greece the divination through the oracle could be accomplished in two ways. One was based on external (visible, acoustic, sensible) “signs”. This was actually “inductive”, and indeed the Greeks called it τεχνική since it implied the technical knowledge of practical devices in order to interpret the will of the gods and thus know the future.

The other way was performed by the god’s direct inspiration to either the local psychiatrist (i.e., the priestess) in charge of the oracle or to the individual seeking an answer derived from the meaning of internal “symptoms”, without external tools of interpretation (ἄτεχνος). In our specific case, although it is on record that all oracles could function through either inductive or intuitive means, Delphi’s oracle was not only the most prestigious one in Greece but operated exclusively in an “intuitive” manner. In other words, Delphi’s oracle was “endosemiotic” and thus more human in resources. It was also the most sophisticated, aristocratic, and learned. It is no wonder that Heraclitus, himself an aristocrat, chose Delphi from among a hundred oracles in Greece alone. (See Bouché-Leclerq 1879-1882 in connection with the religious role of the oracles, and Ferri 1916 for their classification.) For Delphi was, indeed, since Homeric times, the seat of Apollo, a god who knew everything in the past, present, and future (cf. Homer C .700-600BC: III, 277), as any standard classical mythology manual will amply illustrate.

Toward a Semiotic Solution of Diels 93

Consideration is now directed to the six points listed above, in an attempt to solve the Heraclitean “riddle”.

(1) The sixth century meaning of λέγειν can be analyzed, in Diels 93, either independently or in connection with “λόγος. Since λόγος will be discussed at length in another paper, I choose to dissect Heraclitus’ “λέγει” independently from his obsession with λόγος. Moreover, I believe Diels 93 contains all data necessary for a solution. Although already in the sixth century λέγειν had also, if not primarily, the meaning of “to say”, “to speak”, and related synonyms, there were other coexisting meanings including, naturally, the archaic ones and the newer ones, derivatives of “to say”. Before scanning basic literature of Heraclitus’ time, a brief etymological review would refresh our memory regarding λέγειν, and not λόγος, as a basic semanteme—for the verb is the fundamental form since Homeric times. Etymologically, and thus historically, λέγω meant simply “I put things together”, “I select”, “I gather”, “I separate (one from a group)”, “I enumerate”, and so forth. When viewed within Indo-European, it corresponds to Latin lego having similar meanings, in addition to that of “I read” which was not so in Homeric Greek (cf. Latin legiō, -onis, and Oscan leginum corresponding to Latin legionem). (See, among many, Boisacq 1916: 563, for a comprehensive presentation of the I.-E. situation.)

The archaic meaning of λέγω, especially when analyzed in relation to derivatives and compound forms, leaves no doubt as to the original acceptation devoid of “to say” (even Scapula 1637: 934-950 [see gloss in References on Scapula 1579-1580] lists hundreds of attestations, starting with the Iliad [Homer c.700-600BC]). An entire book could be written on the subject; hence I find it irrelevant to transcribe here what one can see for oneself consulting “original” sources for pre-Heraclitean times.

At this stage, therefore, since the key to the oracle lies in the archaic meaning of three verbs (and Heraclitus would employ nothing but the most archaic semantic charge), let us assume as a frame of reference Diels’ interpretation which lingers in each and every “translation”:

The lord, who . . ., neither λέγει nor κρύπτει but or σημαίvεɩ.

It is now only a matter of “substituting” English for the Greek, and, although this replacement can be done singly at any of the three positions, I prefer to follow the “linear” progression, not only because it must have been the manner Diels chose by generating “sagt”, but because λέγει seems to have troubled everybody since Diels’ interpretation. Thus,

(2) Once any of the archaic semantic values for λέγει have been accepted, it should not be an arduous task to find the oracular meaning of κρύπτει because, by “logical” tenets, it must be the opposite of λέγει and because it is dictated by a reading of the whole corpus of Heraclitus’ fragments. Moreover, if we remember Heraclitus’ philosophical views on opposites, and apply basic rules of logical syntax, the second step should be as follows:

(3) At this point the selection of a semantic force for σημαίvεɩ is pleasant not only because of its own characteristics that can be uncovered independently of the preceding two verbs, but also because of the base for its archaic meaning per se. This is especially so for the reason that, in the oracle, vocal language is excluded, and hence meaning must be conveyed by non-verbal expressions. Again, even in Homeric times, σημαίνω might have meant an infinitude of things—from “I mark with a sign” to “I reveal” or “manifest something through signs”, in addition to “I make a sign”, “I indicate through signs”, etc. Note that “sign” or “signs” can be physical, natural, sensible, conceptual, internal, external, imaginary, real, etc. Once more, it would be redundant to quote from standard literature the archaic value of σημαίνω.

Later meanings were derived and applied for various purposes—in medicine, philosophy, economics, military science, astrology, meteorology, and so forth. It was a matter of “applied” semiotics in its infant stage. Thus, it is dangerous to construct, according to popular tendency nowadays, a whole semiotic theory based on, say, the literature of medicine.

Even the term “semeiotics” itself (via Latin ars semeiotica from τέχνησημειοτική) is a late result of “applied” science. But to make this paper short, let us consider the last stage, where I assume once more:

The selection can now be made by knowing that the direct object contained in any verb must be the lord’s thought on the matter solicited by the inquirer (thought being in keeping with the pair λέγ-/λόγ-):

The lord, who has the oracle in Delphi, neither discloses nor hides his thought, but indicates it through signs.

The problem now is what we should understand by “signs”, obviously not external ones such as smoke or noises. Thus, if the interpretation above is valid, a whole semiotic theory can be formulated—especially if σημαίvεɩ is understood as “the oracle speaks through signs”, a verb that could not fit any traditional interpretation where οὔτε λέγει is rendered “neither speaks”. The oracle does indeed speak, and says a lot to one who knows how to listen. That is what an oracle is for.

(4) The considerations made for (1)-(3) above, leading to the suggested solution, when correlated with Heraclitean conceptions on human nature, are corroborated by the view that such characteristics do not yield anything (or any answer) so easily. But, before continuing, one should first understand what human “nature” means. It is assumed that Heraclitus’ fragments are those remaining from his work entitled On Nature; therefore the “behavior” of one’s nature must be of prime consideration. This quality is uniquely characteristic of humans, not of rocks, and not of beasts. Therefore, it is the nature of Homo sapiens, oeconomicus, intuens, in short, Homo semeioticus, and as such may be subject to self-analysis. Thus, “hides” is not to be construed as an innate permanent feature of human nature. That is to say, nature loves to hide (but notice the verbal aspect of κρύπτεσθαιφιλεῖ indicating the desultory and periodical “present” tense); however, again, to linger in the depth is part of its natural “behavior”. One has to seek within himself in order to elicit something that was already latent in Homo intuens (Diels 101: ἐδιζησάμην ἐμεωντόν “I searched within myself’). The reason for searching arises from the condition of something being hidden. Finally, this deep seeking is correlated with Diels 99: εἰ μὴ ἥλιος ἦν, ἔνεκα τῶν ἄλλων ἄστρων εὐφρόνη ἄν ἦν—“If there were no sun there would be no night”.

Heraclitus, thus, appears clear to anyone who knows that he must rely upon his own intrinsic resources. This is not to suggest that Heraclitus enjoys shifting all the responsibility onto his own or man’s intuition. He does not even trust himself since, rather than painstakingly researching within his mind, he would prefer to trust his five senses, as evident in Diels 46, 101a, 107, and 63, whenever coping with “reality”.

(5) The implications from Diels 101 are fundamental for the problems of cognition. It is evident that, the intimate nature of things being hidden in all of us, each person must analyze himself on the basis of internal signs (as well as external ones that might act only as catalysts), i.e., in relation to the reasoning powers which distinguish Homo semeioticus from non-Homo. There is another implication, however, that required a longer time to be formally declared by another aphorism. This implication was caught later by Protagoras, who did not hesitate to declare that πάντων χρημάτων μέτρον ἐστίν ἄωθρωποσ, but the concept of Homo mensura is already in Heraclitus. Indeed, in semiotic matters Protagoras was to Heraclitus what in logic Aristotle was to Plato. If man is the measure of everything, then all his answers are to be found inside himself merely by seeking the meaning of his own signs, i.e., by intuitions.

(6) If all of the above is valid, each human being has his own built-in oracle as part of his mind. Heraclitus indeed speaks of “Ψυχες”. This is consistently and erroneously interpreted, since Diels’ translation of Fragment 115 as “soul” (“Seele”): “Ψυχες ἐστι λόγοϛ ἐαυτὸν αὔξων”, which I interpret simply “The mind has its own nature to expand itself’. The problem is that since Heraclitean times man still has not fully exploited the potential of his mental capacity.

To those who put forward non-Homo speculations Heraclitus replies very clearly indeed (Diels 82): πιθὴκων ὁ κάλλιστοϛ αἰσχρὸϛ ἀνθρώπων γένει συμβάλλειν “The most beautiful ape is horrible when compared with humans”. Heraclitus did not have to read Darwin to single out the uniqueness of Homo semeioticus, for only in Homo (Diels 113): ξυνόν ἐστι πᾶσι τὸ φρονέειν “The faculty of reasoning is common to all”. At last the anticipation of Protagoras’ μέτρον attests the primacy of Homo semeioticus through Diels 116: ἀνθρώποισι πᾶσι μέτεσι γινώσκειν ἑωυντοὺϛ καὶ σωφρονεῖν “Every human being has the faculty not only of knowing himself but also of reasoning rightly”, and reinforces Fragment 113. Both fragments 113 and 116, among many, lie at the foundations of theoretical semiotics.

Conclusions

In the realm of semiotics there actually cannot be any conclusions, especially if an attempt is made to base them upon the thought of pioneers whose work, already twenty-five centuries old, remains still at an infant stage. However, if in the history of semiotics there may be an ἀρχή in nuce, it must be found in Heraclitus and in his Delphic oracle, properly correlated with virtually his entire corpus. There is no doubt that the three Delphic verbs constitute the semiotic synthesis of a thesis-antithesis statement leading to the formulation of signs inside and outside of Homo semeioticus. We are at the ἀρχή of semiotics, and in it Heraclitus is one of the thinkers climbing a lonely path, fencing only with Parmenides in an infinite world replete with interior and exterior signs. There is so much to be done for the study of these semioticists that the task may well intimidate anyone attempting to dissect in a semiotic framework the period encompassing the sixth and the fifth centuries. But in spite of the long road ahead, if there is at this stage any Vater, he is Heraclitus—not Hippocrates, a rather tardy heir to theoretical tenets on which applied aspects of semiotics were later based. And I should not be surprised if, someday, the label of Vater were to be lifted from Heraclitus and laid upon another. For, in the history of semiotics (also a history of mankind), every Vater must have a previous Father, and the ultimate will inevitably be Homo semeioticus.