Friday, January 25, 2019

Joining the beginning to the end


On January 16, I asked the Director of the Institute for Philosophy and Religion at the Faculty of Philosophy at Charles University in Prague to consider organizing an international seminar commemorating the 40th anniversary of the first Oxford lecture – by Dr Kathleen Wilkes – in my Philosophy seminar in Prague. I informed him that I would like to present at the seminar a paper on ‘Plato’s first two dialogues, a reflection of his political hopes’, which I had put on my website. I haven’t received any response to my proposal, and so I should like to say a few words to justify my making it.

The visits of foreign academics deeply influenced the subsequent political development in my country. This is well documented in Roger Scruton’s ‘A catacomb culture’ published in the TLS of February 16-22 1990 (it is available on my website). Let me quote a few passages from it: ‘Following the example set By Kathleen Wilkes – an Oxford philosopher of intrepid character – academics began to visit their Czechoslovak colleagues, many of whom they met in the seminar organized by Julius Tomin. The visiting continued for little more than a year, during which period many people, including the Master of Balliol College, were summarily expelled from Czechoslovakia. The publicity-conscious Tomin then emigrated … and a small sum of money had been given for the relief of our Czechoslovak colleagues. Four of the visitors who had visited Dr Tomin’s seminar – Kathleen Wilkes, Alan Montefiore, Bill Newton-Smith and myself – used this money to establish an educational trust. We decided that, although our purpose was charitable, and in violation of neither English nor Czechoslovak law, it should not be openly pursued, and we could henceforth best help our Czechoslovak colleagues by working secretly … we won the confidence of a large network of people, none of whom knew the full extent of out operations … we were able to set up a network of secret classes – not only in Bohemia, but also in Moravia and Slovakia … Many of our visitors were extremely well known in their own countries … We also encouraged our French, German, American and Canadian colleagues to establish sister trusts, thereby acquiring an international dimension … In the mid-1980s, thanks to a generous grant from George Soros (who will surely be commemorated in future years, not only as a great Hungarian patriot, but also as one of the saviours of Central Europe), we had expanded into Moravia … Last summer, however, the organizer of our work in Slovakia, Ján Čarnogurský was arrested … But the blessed Agnes of Bohemia had just been canonized, and it was a time of miracles. Two weeks later Čarnogurský was released under an amnesty and made Deputy Prime Minister of his country … By then another of our beneficiaries was President, and within weeks we were to see our friends occupying the highest offices in the land … Among those who had worked with us we could count the new rectors of the Charles University, of the Masaryk University (as it was once again called) in Brno, and of the Palacký University in Olomouc.’

In ‘Plato’s first two dialogues, a reflection of his political hopes’ I argue that Plato wrote the Phaedrus in 405 and the Charmides in 404 B.C. In doing so I am at variance with platonic scholarship according to which the Phaedrus is a late dialogue and Plato began to write dialogues only after Socrates’ death, that is after 399 B.C. My interest in the dating of the Phaedrus goes back to the lecture that Dr Anthony Kenny, the Master of Balliol College gave – or rather wanted to give, for it was interrupted by the police – in my seminar in April 1980.

Dr Kenny came to my flat about half an hour before the start of the seminar. He said he wanted to discuss two passages, one from Aristotle's Eudemian Ethics and one from the Nicomachean Ethics: ‘Julius, would you translate these two passages for your students at the beginning of the seminar?’ I was relieved when I looked at the Nicomachean passage (10th book, 177a12-b6); I had it heavily underlined and marked by an exclamation mark. Though I had not read it for years, I was confident I could manage translating it without any preparation. I began to sweat when I saw the lengthy Eudemian passage (1218b31-1219a39); I never read the Eudemian Ethics, and so I excused myself and retired to the kitchen. I barely managed to read the text once when my wife summoned me: ‘You must come, the room is packed.’

Kenny opened his talk by explaining that he was going to discuss two passages of Aristotelian Ethics. Then he turned to me: ‘Julius, would you translate those two passages?’ I replied: ‘Tony, I shall read each sentence aloud in Greek and then translate it in Czech.’ When I finished reading and translating those two passages, Kenny argued that in the Nicomachean passage happiness consists in the contemplative activity and philosophy thus becomes the primary source of happiness, whereas in the Eudemian passage happiness consists of an ideal functioning of every part of the soul. The Eudemian conception is thus critical of the Nicomachean conception: ‘From the Eudemian perspective only the person called upon to do philosophy is entitled to pursue it. A person not called upon to pursue philosophy, and yet persisting in doing so, is not a good man, he is a bad man.’ That’s how I remember Kenny’s words and remember thinking: ‘The communist regime did not call upon me to do philosophy, and I would not like to be in a situation in which my doing philosophy should depend on Kenny’s calling upon me to do it.’ [In The Aristotelian Ethics (Oxford, 1878, p. 214) Kenny wrote: ‘A person who organized his life entirely with a view to the promotion of philosophical speculation would be not wise but cunning, not phronimos but panourgos. The type of person whom many regard as the hero of the Nicomachean Ethics turns out, by the standards of the Eudemian Ethics, to be a vicious and ignoble character.’]

When I translated Kenny’s words, ‘I had to exchange the role of an interpreter for the role of a discussion partner [I’m quoting the “Pursuit of Philosophy”, in which I discuss Kenny’s visit in my seminar. It was published in 1984 in History of Political Thought, vol. V, No 3; it is available on my website.]: 'In the Nicomachean Ethics Aristotle considers the life of philosophy to be the source of happiness because the activity of intellect is the highest one. Why should I see it opposed to the ideal functioning of the other parts of the soul in the Eudemian Ethics? May not Aristotle be pointing in the direction of the theory fully developed in the tenth book of the Nicomachean Ethics when he says in our Eudemian passage: “The End (telos) is the best as being an End, since it is assumed as being the best and ultimate, for the sake of which all the other things exist?” (1219a8-9) In the Nicomachean Ethics Aristotle puts forward reasons why philosophy is the accomplished source of good life, he points to its being most continuous and independent of external circumstances. Even if deprived of exchanging ideas with his colleagues (sunergoi) he may continue doing philosophy (1177a12-b1). This is especially important for us in Prague who may face imprisonment any day. It further reminds me of Socrates. In the Apology he says: “as long as I live and as long as I am able to I will not stop doing philosophy” (29d).'

Kenny did not oppose the ‘Socratic’ interpretation of the Nicomachean passage. He questioned instead the philosophical credentials of Socrates. Wouldn’t I consider Plato a much better philosopher? I could not accept the question as simply as that. How can I accept that Plato was a better philosopher if Plato is full of Socrates? It would prejudice my reading Plato. While reading the dialogues I try to understand what was Socrates’ philosophy that it gave him strength to do philosophy “as long as he breathed”. But should I not better return to my role of an interpreter? – At this point dozens of uniformed and plain-clothed policemen stormed into the room.’

This was the last time I could see my students. From then on we were all detained in police custody for 48 hours every Wednesday, each time we intended to have a seminar. After several such attempts I told the police I stopped the seminar. Having been invited by the Master of Balliol to come to Oxford and by Trinity College to come to Cambridge, I asked for five years leave to study abroad. (Here I must correct Scruton; I refused to emigrate.)

In May 1980 Dr Wilkes revisited Prague. She was anxious to know what happened during Dr Kenny’s visit. I told her that when Kenny suggested that Plato was a dubious character but a very good philosopher whereas Socrates was a good man but a poor philosopher, I said that he obviously made such a cut through Plato’s dialogues that he viewed as Socratic those dialogues that were in his view below the level of great philosophy, but in the dialogues that presented philosophy he considered to be great he saw Plato’s philosophy: ‘I don’t make any such cut through Plato’s dialogues’. After giving Kathy this account, I said: ‘Diogenes Laertius says in his ‘Life of Plato’ that the Phaedrus was Plato’s first dialogue. In all my reading of Plato I had not come across anything that might prejudice me against that ancient information.’ Kathy replied: ‘The Phaedrus can’t be Plato’s first dialogue!’ I suggested that she should come to us for a month before our leaving Prague for Oxford so that we might read the dialogue together, and see. Kathy succeeded in getting a grant for July-August, and so we read the Phaedrus together. This joint reading convinced me that the ancient tradition should not be rejected off hand. – I later learned that Kathy had to give back the grant she received for the month of our joint reading of the Phaedrus.

In April 1997 an international symposium on The Significance of the Republic and the Laws in Plato’s thought was convened. At that Symposium I presented a paper entitled Joining the Beginning to the End in which I argued that throughout the Laws Plato often dwelt in his mind on the Phaedrus, his first dialogue. Let me quote a passage from it:

‘In the fifth book the Athenian Stranger asks what character one must have if one is to lead the best and most noble life (poios tis ȏn autos an kallista diagagoi ton bion, 730b3-4), and how one is to be led and educated (730b5-c1). He answers his own question by pointing to truth as the guiding principle of everything good for gods and for men (alȇtheia dȇ pantȏn men agathȏn theois hȇgeitai, pantȏn de anthrȏpois, 730c1-2). He intimates that a man who is to be blessed and happy (makarios te kai eudaimȏn) ought to partake of the truth straight at the beginning (ex archȇs euthus) so as to live as a true man throughout a prolonged life (hina hȏs pleiston chronon alȇthȇs ȏn diabioi, 730c2-4).’

At the end of the Symposium it was decided that the next Czech Symposium, in 1998, should be on the Meno (if I remember) and the next international Symposium should be on the Phaedo. At the meeting of the Czech Platonic Society, which followed the Meno symposium, it was decided that the next but one International Symposium should be on the Phaedrus. But to my surprise, at the beginning of the International Symposium on the Phaedo Aleš Havlíček, the organizer, announced that at the end of the Symposium we must decide whether the next International Symposium should be on the Phaedrus or Philebus. I did not say anything. But when at the end of the symposium Aleš Havlíček announced that we must decide whether the next International Symposium was to be on the Philebus or Protagoras I asked on what ground the decision of the Czech Platonic Society from 1998 was put aside without any explanation. Aleš Havlíček began to answer my question in Czech. I protested: ‘Aleš, speak In English, please, so that everybody can understand’. He disregarded my intervention and again began to speak in Czech. I interrupted him again: ‘In English, please.’ At that point he sat down and left my question unanswered.  – I was subsequently informed that Havlíček was told that if the Czech Platonic Society insisted on the Phaedrus as the theme of the next International Symposium, the financial support accorded for the International Symposia would be withdrawn.

The first part of the Pursuit of Philosophy is entitled ‘To Resume an Interrupted Discussion’. To this day, in spite of all my efforts, I did not succeed in having any discussion of the dating of the Phaedrus with Platonic scholars. Let me hope that the approaching 40th anniversary of the first Oxford lecture in my seminar inspires the Czech philosophers to organise the International Seminar I have proposed.

In an effort to underpin my proposal, I asked the Publishing house OIKOYMENH to allow me to put the article ‘Joining the beginning to the end’on my website. I was granted the permission, but my computer (or my printer) refused to cooperate. After futile efforts to make the computer/printer work, my daughter took her smart phone, photographed the article page by page, sent it to me by email, and so we succeeded in putting it on my website. Let me end by quoting its first two paragraphs:

‘A stranger from Athens, Cleinias from Crete, and Megillus from Sparta walk along the road from the Cretan city of Cnossus to the cave and temple of Zeus. The Athenian Stranger asks about the divine provenance of the laws in Crete and in Sparta, and his fellow travellers are happy to answer his queries. The journey promises to be agreeable, for along the road there will be convenient shady places under the lofty trees where they can relax; this is emphasized as important, for they are old, all three of them, and the heat of the day is upon them (pnigous ontos ta nun, 625b3).

This is the opening scene of the Laws. It reminds the reader of the Phaedrus; there too the discussion takes place in the countryside, Socrates feels himself a stranger (230c), he and Phaedrus enjoy the shade of a lofty tree (230b), and the heat of the day is upon them (en tȏi pnigei, 258e7). Thesleff noticed the similarity and inferred from it that Plato began to write the Laws shortly after the Phaedrus. The ancient tradition according to which the Phaedrus was Plato’s first dialogue invites a different explanation: when Plato in his old age embarked on writing the Laws he returned in his thoughts to his first work.’

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