The Voynich Manuscript Revisited

From time to time I revisit the Voynich manuscript. This is - if you are not aware of it - one of the strangest and most mysterious books in the world. A medieval manuscript, it was brought to light by the book collector Voynich in 1912. It is written in an unknown script and language that has yet to be decoded. Consequently it attracts the attention of cryptologists and book sleuths who are attempting to unravel its many mysteries. It is clearly a herbal of some sort, and includes what seems to be an astrological section, but since we cannot decode a single word of the text, we can be certain about little else. 

Since i last had a good look at it, however, some certainty has firmed in at least one regard: the date of the materials used in its construction. Carbon dating tests have at long last been conducted on the vellum of the manuscript and has established - with what the scientists claim to be 95% certainty - a date between 1404 and 1438. I am less sanguine about that degree of exactitude, but in any case we are looking at the first half of the 1400s. Previously, we were just guessing. Now we can narrow it down to a time period. Or at least we can say that the vellum used in the manuscript is from that time period. 

It is possible that vellum from that period survived for a while before it was written on, but much more likely that the book was made not long after the vellum. We can date the vellum - the book is very likely to have been written not long after. To my mind, therefore, I think it becomes almost certain that the work is a production of the 1400s. Vellum made in the early or mid 1400s is not likely to remain intact and used into the 1500s. 

This is encouraging, I think. I accept it as some (reasonably) firm ground. There has been so little terra firma thus far in Voynich studies that any clues are welcome. I have no reason to question the carbon dating, and even if we allow a wider margin of error that the scientists might claim, we can now roughly date the Voynich ms. and so eliminate other possible datings. Others have suggested 1300s and many more have suggested 1600s as the production date. We can now say with some confidence, no, 1400s. 

Other things firm up around this dating. Most impressive to me is the style of the script. Others have previously noted that the style of the script strongly suggests Carolingian minuscule among known scribal styles. This was a very widely used style in medieval manuscripts beginning in the Carolingian renaissance. It is open and clear and was used by Latin scribes. Its use faded in the later Middle Ages but, importantly, was revived in Italy in the 1400s. The Italian renaissance scribes looked back to the classical clarity of the Carolingians and regarded the style we know as Carolingian minuscule as the authentic ancient style. 

Given a (rough) dating we can now say with some confidence that the observation that the style resembles Carolingian minuscule is probably correct. It is likely that the Voynich Ms. is a product of the revival of that style in the 1400s. Less certainly, we might also speculate that the manuscript was made in Italy or at least by an Italian scribe trained in that style. Previously, we had only a resemblance of orthographical styles - the carbon dating of the vellum now underlines that resemblance. We can be sure that the manuscript is not from the Carolingian renaissance, so it must be from the later Italian renaissance when this style of writing came back into vogue. 

Here are samples of the script, first the Voynich and then Carolingian minuscule:

On the strength of this, I want to say that it is now best to proceed on the basis that the Voynich is a product of 1400s Italy. That certainly narrows it down a bit. It gives us a broad context. Previously we were fumbling through the centuries with little idea. Others might still contest this, but for myself I think it would now be a waste of time to dally after other possible datings. The best chance of getting results is to go with the 1400s dating. Italian quattrocento - probably earlier in the century than later.

* * * 

A recent attempt at solving the mysteries of the Voynich has involved identifying and naming the plants illustrated in the herbal section. This is very uncertain territory because no one can agree on which plants are which. All identifications are hotly contested. The botany of the Voynich is therefore not very useful as solid ground. All identifications are conjecture. For simple methodological reasons, I think trying to crack the code via the botany is not a sensible way to proceed. 

But again, given a more solid dating, other aspects of the work firm up. Or, indeed, they become more problematic. Regarding the botany, any dating in the 1400s would seem to rule out identifications of any of the plants as New World botany. Columbus didn't sail the ocean blue until 1492. A dating in the (early to mid) 1400s must count against those who claim the plants in the work are from the Americas. Instead, it must count in favour of those who identify them as plants known in the Old World and/or imaginary plants. 

There are, it must be said, many exotic plants depicted. And the depictions are sometimes crude and often strange. But we can at least say now that they are unlikely to be plants from the Americas. The exotic ones, therefore, must be from nearer to Italy (or Europe more broadly). 

Personally, I am happy about some proposed plant identifications, such as this one proposed by Edith Sherwood:

On balance, I think this probably is a picture of a banana (look at those fronds!). We cannot say for sure, and there might be any number of objections made, but it sure looks like a banana plant to me. This would be interesting, because the banana was cultivated by and was distributed by Muslims. Muslim traders took the plant from South East Asia and introduced it throughout the Muslim world, especially in Africa. But it was growing in Cyprus by the later Middle Ages, and the Italian traveller Capodalista wrote about them in the late 1450s. They were therefore a known plant, albeit exotic and the commercial preserve of the Muslims. 

All of this confirms a general proposition I have had since I first encountered the Voynich MS. It has always seemed very likely to me that it contains knowledge that is in the process of being transmitted from the Muslim world to the Christian world. That is why it is encoded. Many things - especially alchemical and medical knowledge - took an "occult" form when they moved from one world to the other. The Church and other authorities frowned upon and were deeply suspicious of Muslim learning. Against this, though, people were desperate to acquire it. Often that acquisition had to happen through clandestine avenues and was not always a safe trade to be in. 

I want to therefore conjecture that that is what we have before us: a book detailing exotic herbal and astrological and alchemical lore that probably had its prototype in Arabic or perhaps Turkish influence since the single most significant geopolitical event of the 1400s was the fall of Byzantium to the Turks in the middle of the century. Many things point in this direction. I will make my case in a later post. 

Mosques and masjids

Recently it was announced that this city will soon have its first mosque - or "masjid" as Muslims insist on calling it. This has provoked a rather predictable debate in the local media and coffee shops along entirely predictable lines. Critics argue that mosques and Muslims have no place in our culture and mumble dark warnings about terrorists and jihadists etc. Others like to point out that while Muslims are busily buildings their "masjids" here in Australia, Christians are certainly not being allowed to build churches in Muslim countries: on the contrary, Christians have never been so persecuted and oppressed as they are today in countries like Egypt and Saudi Arabia. Then there are objectors who are less ideological: they think the new mosque will cause traffic and parking problems and lower housing values.

All of this, as I say, is predictable. In almost every town and city in the country where a mosque has been built, you will find the same objections and hear the same arguments. No surprises at all. What I always find curious, though, are those people who are vociferous in their support for the new mosque. The anti- people and their motives are familiar enough. Many of them are Christians and they have a religious antipathy to Islam. Others are simply displaying an old fashioned xenophobia, a fear of the foreign. But what of those people who are fervently in favour of the mosque? What are their motives? I don't mean local Muslims, of course. Obviously they support the new mosque. Rather, I am curious about those people writing to the newspapers and holding forth over their lattes who are neither Muslims nor indeed religious at all; often, in fact, they are anti-religious people. So why, I wonder, would they want a mosque in their community?

This is something I have always found puzzling. In my former incarnation, working at the local university, I was an advocate for the Muslim students and often held positions on committees and working groups where I encountered this same phenomenon. The strongest supporters of Muslims and their interests were people who I knew to be viciously anti-religious. Often, in fact, I knew first-hand that these same people were agitating against the courses in which I was teaching - namely Religious Studies - because they were activist secularists who believed that no religion should be taught in Universities at all. I found myself sitting on panels and committees with them and watched puzzled as they demanded equal rights for Muslims and huffed and puffed about "inclusiveness" and so on. As I say, I knew these people to be atheist bigots with a passionate hatred of all religion. Why were they so keen to advance the cause of Muslims on campus? The incongruities were quite bizarre. Here were radical feminists arguing for the veil and animal liberationists arguing for halal slaughter. In this context, they were on my side, and their support was welcome. But it always made me feel very uneasy. I always wanted to say to them: "What is it to you? Why do you support Muslims on campus? What makes you so passionate about it?"

The answer they would provide was the single word: multiculturalism. "We support a multicultural campus," they would say. Fine, but I was still left feeling uneasy. I always suspected nefarious motives. When you see atheists getting behind a religious group you have to ask why, and the idea of "multiculturalism" doesn't really answer anything. The plainest example of the incongruity was the annual hooplah about Christmas. It could only happen in the phoney atmosphere of academia, but whenever anyone dared to say 'Happy Christmas' or similar, the atheists would go into a lather and denounce such utterances as "offensive" to "secularism". But they would also use Muslims as an excuse. Christmas, they would argue, offends our Muslim students. That's why we have to ban it. To say 'Happy Christmas' is a cultural imposition that offends multiculturalism. What about the Buddhists? And the Hindus? What about the Muslims? To celebrate Christmas, they said, offends our international students.

Not that I noticed. It wasn't Muslims (or Hindus or Buddhists) who hated Christmas. It was atheists who claimed to be speaking on their behalf.

What was their motivation? In the end, I concluded it was just vandalism and self-loathing. They just wanted to use Muslim students as a way of attacking Christians. That's all it was. They didn't really have any interest in the welfare of Muslim students. Nor did they have the slightest sympathy for any aspect of Islam. Indeed, by any measure, nearly everything about Islam is - or should be - deeply offensive to them, from belief in an interventionist, totalitarian deity, to women's rights. It was really quite extraordinary to watch these religion haters being all smiley and warm and affectionate about Islam. Their motives were devious. They welcomed and supported Muslims on campus purely as a way of getting at the Christians who they hated with a genuine passion.

The same motives are behind the local supporters of the new mosque. I see them in the newspapers and on social media. 'We support a local mosque!' they trumpet. I want to ask, 'Why? What's it to you?' The fact is, that what it is to them is a way of scoring points against the white anglo-saxon culture they despise. It happens to be their own culture, of course. They themselves are affluent white anglo-saxons. But they hate white anglo-saxons and white anglo-saxon history, language and culture. That's what I mean by self-loathing. They loath the very culture that has made them affluent and prosperous. And they are intent on vandalizing it. Actually, they hate Islam too. They hate all religion. But they are happy to use Muslims to "smash the cultural hegemony"of Christianity. They want a local mosque in order to insult and upset the local Christians. It is as petty as that. Their motives are dishonest and dishonourable. In that sense, their support for "multiculturalism" is toxic.

At the end of my tenure at the University I had withdrawn from my support roles to Muslim students. Amongst other things, I didn't like this hypocrisy. The Muslims were sincere people, but some of their supporters among the white anglo-saxon staff in the system were not. They had hidden motives. They were using the rights of Muslim students to advance a different, hidden agenda. That agenda is, basically, to trash the culture and history  and traditions of white anglo-saxon Australia which they regard as inherently criminal (ignoring the paradox that they themselves are a product of it.)

I support a local mosque. But there are mosques, and then there are masjids. It is perfectly proper for local people to be cautious about what sort of mosque this might be. There are many different Muslim organisations actively building mosques in Australia. Islam is not a single church. There are moderate groups and more extreme groups . Then there are extremist fringe groups that hang around the edges of moderate mosques. There is a wide spectrum. It is proper to ask questions. I'd like to know how much Saudi Arabian money is being supplied, for example, and with what strings attached?

On the whole, though, I don't share the fears of xenophobes. But nor am I a post-modernist. I believe in diversity AND cohesion. In my view, you want a local Muslim congregation that adds to the diversity of the city but, importantly, is also anxious to be part of the city and part of a cohesive culture. Not all Muslim organisations are like that. What you don't want are Muslims who indulge in the same hatreds and antipathies as their latte-slurping tertiary-educated anglo-saxon supporters

Speaking personally, I have every right to love Islam, and I do. That makes me all the more cautious about what ilk of Muslims we are talking about. And it doesn't mean I hate the West. What worries me are the atheist secularist God-haters who purport to love Islam and who clammer for a mosque here. I respect the views of local Christians, even where they are mistaken. They, at least, are not disingenuous. This is, after all, a predominantly Christian city. If a mosque is to go well here, there must be a proper relationship between the Christians and the Muslims. Finally, both of those faith communities must wake up to their common enemy, the godless relativists and their project to vandalize tradition.

As it happens, from what I have heard, those Muslim groups behind the local mosque are making considerable efforts to ensure it will fit into the city and are being sensitive to all local concerns and criticisms. 


Harper

The Janitor's Labyrinth

This story closely resembles another story about which I have previously posted. The story is that a humble janitor dies and it is then discovered that they have laboured quietly, secretly, on a complex artwork for years, leaving on clue as to what he had in mind. In this case, a janitor who worked at a university in Japan left a maze - hand-drawn over 7 years - on a large sheet of paper. Whether or not there is a path through the maze is a matter of debate and speculation. Certainly, no one has found a path through yet. But it is a reasonable conjecture, I think, that since the janitor took such care constructing it over such a long time, that he allowed a path through. Pictures of the maze below.  - HMcAB

Suffrage and the Democracy Disease

Someone put it to me recently that the right to vote ought not be automatic but that it should be earned. As to how it should be earned, he was less sure, but he was adamant about the principle that the right to vote - suffrage - should not be bestowed without some measure of qualification and in that it should not be too easy. "People don't value the right to vote," he said, and noted the way young people often deliberately contrived to stay off the electoral roll as if it was a chore. The best way to restore value to the democratic system, he thought, was to impose limitations upon suffrage. It is a controversial notion, he admits, and he complained that people often misunderstood him on this, but he sincerely considered it important to restore the value of voting. Pressed on this, he didn't think that voting and citizenship should be necessarily linked. Citizenship, he thought, should only bestow the right to qualify for voting but the right to vote should be earned. In part, the context of this conversation was a brief chat about the proposal in Scotland to give 16 year olds the vote. My acquaintance regarded this as the maddest thing since haggis. The idea of extending franchise to 16yos is, he insists, utterly crazy. If he had his way, the opposite would be happening; only mature, responsible (and preferably educated) citizens would get the vote. He felt that a high proportion of voters were dim wits with no qualification to cast a sane judgment upon something as important as government.

I raised the historical objection to this: No taxation without representation. Even if a man is a brainless twit, and a thoroughly unwholesome character, surely the state cannot demand taxation from him without him having some say in how the state is to spend that money? Historically, it was once the case that good and hardworking citizens were being taxed by the state but were not entitled to vote. Only "decent", well-bred and "educated" people - the upper class - enjoyed the franchise. Democracy advocates argued - with some force, I feel - that if someone is paying tax then they ought to have the vote. Taxation without representation is unjust. So, if nothing else, I argued, the very act of paying tax ought to be qualification enough. And everyone pays tax. There's a goods and services (consumption) tax on everything. Everyone pays tax.

Since that conversation, these points have been stewing, along with a string of related ideas and questions. In particular, I was struck recently by an article proposing that at the current time only about 51% of Australian citizens actually pay net tax. It is an alarming figure. It means that some 49% of Australians collect more from the government than they contribute. As the article pointed out, it is much the same figure quoted - infamously - by Mitt Romney in his failed presidential campaign against Barack Obama. Nevertheless, it is true. What Mr Romney was alluding to is a simple economic fact. The conglomeration of government pensions, subsidies, incentives assistance schemes is so pervasive that combined with other factors such as an ageing population, nearly one in two people is a net burden upon society. I can verify this just by flicking through my list of phone contacts. I know a high proportion of people on welfare, or student loans, old age pension, disability payment, or in part-time employment, sickness benefits, and so on. I am not saying any of them are undeserving, but it is a conspicuous fact that our lifestyle has been increasingly unproductive and sheltered.

Romney's comments were especially controversial because he added that this 49% were never going to vote for him. Also true. And it exposes what I (given my Platonic credentials) sometimes characterize as the Democracy Disease. Democracy is such a sacred cow in our era that very few people stop to ask about its shortcomings. There is an obvious problem with democracy. It is this: in a democracy there is nothing to stop a certain class of people ( a very large class) from voting themselves a pension and then opposing any candidate or law that might deprive them of it. Or, to put it another way: in a democracy politicians invariable have recourse to electoral bribes. Welfare expands as politicians buy votes. There is no real mechanism in a democracy to prevent this. It is what has happened to liberal democracies everywhere. Eventually they face bankruptcy. The only way to prevent it is imposed "austerity". Eventually, it requires the force of a tyrant.

This is precisely why Plato warned that democracy is a prelude to tyranny. The demos sends the polis broke. The problem is in the extension of franchise. In the Republic, franchise is extended further and further as the State moves through a succession of constitutions. Eventually, just being a citizen is enough, and then citizenship is broadened as well. Soon, not only natural born citizens but recently arrived immigrant citizens are collecting a pension and living in a council flat. No politician dare touch them.

In the Australian experience, both sides of politics have been complicit in this process. Labor is always guilty of reckless largesse - because it has an ideological preference for big government - but one of the biggest vote buyers in our history was John Howard under whom there was a huge growth of useless middle class welfare. Never mind about small government rhetoric - government and the welfare culture have expanded under governments of all persuasions. At the same time, the revenue base has continued to shrink. Clearly, expanding welfare (if only because of an ageing population) with contracting revenue is unsustainable. The recent Labor governments stretched this to a diabolical extent. They introduced huge welfare schemes (Disability Insurance, Gonski School funding etc.) but, remarkably, their mining tax (designed to fund it all via the mining boom) was a complete fizzer. This was leading the country into severe debt. The Abbott government, on the other hand, is probably the first government I can remember with a genuine ideological commitment to smaller government. We'll see.

In any case, in the long run voters will always vote for a pension. (Even Socrates wanted a pension.) They'll support cuts to programs as long as they are other people's programs and not their own. Plainly, the entire democratic process and the general extension of franchise is not well-equipped for austerity. Ultimately, the only way to break the cycle is by coercion - austerity is imposed. As we have seen in Greece (home of democracy.)

Perhaps, I was thinking, the problem is that we have broken the nexus between taxation and representation. Perhaps the one requirement for voting should simply be that you pay income tax. If the old slogan was 'No taxation without representation' then perhaps the opposite should apply as well: no representation without taxation. Only those who contribute to the common weal have a say in how it is managed. If you want to vote, become a taxpayer. This would disenfranchise a lot of people, admittedly, but it is still a sound basis for a viable state while representation without taxation is not. Workers would be the main bloc of voters. It was workers who led the historical reforms under the slogan No taxation without representation. They appreciate the nexus between taxation and voting. Voting is their chance to have a say about how their tax dollars are spent.

What is the proper basis for voting? Once, it was gender. Or colour. Or race. And wealth. Now it is only restricted to adult citizens - or not even adult ones in Scotland. Inclusiveness is the catch-cry of our age. But inclusiveness does not necessarily craft good governance. A country can be as inclusive as it likes and still go broke. There are some these days - God help us - who want to obliterate all distinct identities so that the only quality that matters is mere humanness. This is implicit in many of the "ethics" sported by Human Rights ideologues. A person is a person is a person. As if people are just undifferentiated sludge. Some people want open borders, or no borders. Some people object to the concept of citizen per se. Why not let everyone vote who wants to vote, without distinction? If you can breathe, you can vote. Open slather democracy. When you go that far you reach the situation where you might as well have government by lot (sortition) as the ancient Athenian's did in the end.

Personally, being a landowner, I am rather nostalgic for the good old days when, at least, there was an upper house for the determination of landholders only. And why not? Why not invest an extra responsibility in people who actually own the soil of a country? I see nothing wrong with that, especially if it was coupled with the Australian dream of home-owning so that a vote in the upper house elections was within the grasp of most working people in their lifetime. Like my friend, I am not sold on the inviable sanctity of universal suffrage. But what criteria do we use to draw distinctions? Julia Gillard wanted 40% of Australian adults to have university degrees. Perhaps this could form the basis of an electoral college? Now, there's a truly terrifying vision!

Harper McAlpine Black

Aristotle was a phony

On the matter of Aristotle, I am in a minority of one. Or at least very few. I am one of that small minority of people who is prepared to ask the unthinkable: are the works of Aristotle forgeries? In one respect, it is a question that hardly matters. No one denies the depth and profundity of the works of Aristotle. But were they really by Aristotle and was this Aristotle who we suppose he was? I am a sceptic. I am inclined to question some of the basic features of what I call the Aristotle myth. In particular, I question the supposition - and it is a supposition - that this Aristotle was a student of Plato and a member of Plato's Academy. And I doubt, furthermore, the story that Aristotle was the teacher of Alexander the Great. I detect a mythology in these stories rather than historical fact. Regarding the works of Aristotle, the whole story of how they were preserved and how they were subsequently found and published is inherently fishy. I smell a forgery. There have been scholars throughout history - notably in the Renaissance - who have raised such questions. I think they are good questions.

It is my view, in any case, that the extant works of Aristotle are the product of the first century BC and not much earlier when they were supposedly "found" in Athens and taken back to Rome by Sulla. Regarding the character known as "Aristotle" - I regard it as a myth, the purpose of which was to connect Alexander the Great to the Divine Plato. The Aristotle myth, that is, grew along with the mythology of Alexander. There was, I believe, an early poet named Aristotle. This character has been engrandized during the myth-making surrounding Alexander. A large body of work - sort of a counter-Plato - was composed/collected and attached to this name in the first century BC. I therefore see the works of Aristotle as Roman productions.

Here are some points:

*According to the traditional account the works of Aristotle, student of Plato, were "lost" after his death and "preserved" in a cellar until the first century BC. This story explains why we have no notices of Aristotle before this time. Aristotle goes missing for two hundred years. Then his works turn up intact having been preserved in a cellar. Is this likely? It is an inherently dubious tale. I invite readers to check it out. It's a very fishy story.

*The man credited with "discovering" the works of Aristotle, Apellicon of Teos, was a complete rogue. He was a book collector. It is said that he purchased the manuscripts of Aristotle from a Neleus of Scepsis. It is said they were hidden in a cellar to keep them away from the princes of Pergamon. Then we are told that because Aristotle's manuscripts were in poor shape, Apellicon made his own copies and filled up the gaps himself. So, in fact, our Aristotle - we are to believe - is Apellicon's free-and-easy rendering of the concealed manuscripts of Neleus. This entire story is suspect, frankly.

*Next we are told that Apellicon's library was carried back to Rome by Sulla. This is in 84BC. This is actually the first time Aristotle's works ever appear anywhere in public. They are part of the spoils of Sulla. This was a major Roman acquisition of Greek heritage. I argue that large amounts of this heritage was fabricated for Roman purposes.

*The circle who did the fabricating is identifiable: along with the library of Apellicon, the Romans also acquired such Greek scholars as the accomplished scribe and grammarian Tyrannoin of Amisus. He was employed by the Romans, we are told, to organise Apellicon's library. He then worked in the circle of Cicero. This is a circle of people, I maintain, who were more than capable of forging the works of Aristotle. These were deeply learned men and men of great literary power. We underestimate the philosophical and literary genius of that period. Moreover, it is Cicero who provides us with the list of heads of the Academy down to the Roman period. Cicero crafts this myth.

*The literary form of the works of Aristotle is strange and un-Hellenic. We are told that what has survived are his "notebooks". They do not resemble other works of Platonic philosophy or any other production of the Academy. I argue that their form is more distinctly Roman than Platonic Greek. The best way to explain the peculiar literary features of Aristotle's works is to see them as late productions.

*There are many, many strange and unaccountable misrepresentations of Plato in the works of Aristotle. Did he really know Plato? How close was he to Plato? The extant Aristotle does not seem like a close companion of Plato. He misunderstands basic points and misrepresents Plato on fundamental matters. Countless scholars have tried to reconcile the two philosophers on the assumption that they were close companions. But perhaps they weren't. Perhaps there is a good reason why our Aristotle seems so askew about Plato. There are too many clangers in Aristotle. I am not convinced that the person who wrote the works of Aristotle was a personal student of Plato of Athens.

Again: this does not change the intrinsic value of the Aristotelean corpus.  I am not proposing that they are worthless forgeries. But I doubt the standard story about the origins of the works of Aristotle. I especially doubt the proposal that our Aristotle was a student of Plato. His works say otherwise. I suspect they are forgeries of the first century BC, a direct product of the Roman acquisition of Greek learning under Sulla. This would explain much. My explanation: "Aristotle" is a mythic production that accompanied the growth of the Alexander myths. The character of Aristotle was necessary to graft Alexander - the "philosopher king" - onto the Academy.

The important thing, in any case, is not to read Plato through Aristotle.








- Harper McAlpine Black

Plato as Grasshopper

Reading through Diogenes Laertius' Life of Plato I found the following epigram by Timon:

A man did lead them on, a strong stout man,
A honeyed speaker, sweet as melody 

Of tuneful grasshopper, who, seated high 

On Hecademus' tree, unwearied sings.

Hecademus, as Diogenes notes, is now called the Academy, so the image we are given here is of Plato as a grasshopper seated high in the olive trees of the Academy. 

In my studies of Plato, grasshopper (cicadas) are emblematic of autochthony. In ancient mythology, grasshoppers are born from the earth. Plato uses this reference several times. Note, in this context, the reference to the cicadas singing in the tree tops in the Phaedrus dialogue. Timon's image of Plato as the grasshopper in the tree tops alludes to it. 

The Canon of Plato (Thrasyllus' Attestation)

The canon of Plato's works has been supplied to us by a certain ancient authority named Thrasyllus, about whom we know very little. He is the source quoted by Diogenes Laertius in his life of Plato and this provides a list of thirty-six works grouped together into nine tetralogies as follows:

THE NINE TETRALOGIES

*Euthyphro, Apology, Crito, Phædo
*Cratylus, Theætetus, Sophist, Statesman
*Parmenides, Philebus, Symposium, Phædrus
*Alcibiades, 2nd Alcibiades, Hipparchus, Rival Lovers
*Theages, Charmides, Laches, Lysis
*Euthydemus, Protagoras, Gorgias, Meno
*Hippias major, Hippias minor, Ion, Menexenus
*Clitophon, Republic, Timæus, Critias
*Minos, Laws, Epinomis, [Letters]

THE THIRTY-FIVE WORKS

Note that the final tetralogy includes the Letters, which is not a dialogue. So, in total, there are thirty-five dialogues or philosophical works ascribed to Plato by this ancient attestation, leaving the Letters aside. (Actually, some of the "dialogues" are not dialogues, but that is another matter. See below. Collectively, we call them "dialogues".) 

Modern scholarship questions the authenticity of some of these works, but usually on the basis of a preconceived idea of what is and is not Plato. This is always an open question. Take a work such as Rival Lovers. Modern scholars agree that in terms of literary style and its Greek it seems on a par with the other works in the canon; it is rejected because its content is deemed "unworthy of Plato's philosophical mind." That is, its' content conflicts with our idea of who Plato was and what he believed and what he taught. This, however, is highly debatable in itself; it is hardly a sure criterion by which to decide authenticity, all other things being equal.

We can be much less sure about this distinction than we can be sure of the fact that these works are all, at least, in the school of Plato. That is, among all the philosophical works of Greek antiquity, there is a set of thirty-five works which, ancient testimony attests, are definitely Platonic if not by the hand of Plato himself. For the ancients, that is a less important question. Regarding the works that modern scholars deem spurious: if they are not by Plato then they are by his immediate followers such as Philip of Opus. For the ancients, that was good enough. The subsequent Platonic tradition, in any case, accepted these thirty-five works and regarded Thrasyllus' list as canonical and was not too concerned with strict standards of authorship. 

On this matter I follow the ancient tradition. I'm not very interested in modern squabbles about what is and is not by Plato the man and I mistrust the process by which these matters are decided. I want to avoid debates about authenticity and I want to have a secure canon with which to work. Thrasyllus gives us a secure canon. He tells us what works the ancients, (within the next two hundred or so years after Plato) reckoned Platonic. This is the accepted ancient (and medieval) canon and so - by tradition, if for no other reason - these are all works by "Plato". The name "Plato" may, I admit, refer not only to Plato the man but also, in some cases, to his school. The Epinomis is a good example. Modern scholarship says it is by Philip of Opus. Maybe so, but for our purposes he is still called "Plato". For practical purposes here Plato is somewhat interchangeable with his school; when we say "Plato" we may mean, in fact, "Plato and his school". The canon, that is, may include faithful pseudepigrapha. I am less perturbed about this prospect than I am about imposing an inappropriate and debilitating historicism.

This, I think, is the only way to approach a canon. Otherwise, you get bogged down in disputes about what is authentic and what is spurious and the business of philosophy never begins. The best approach is to draw a line and embrace a canon and be done with it. In this case, I see no compelling reasons to draw the line anywhere other than where it was drawn by ancient attestation.

I therefore take and recommend the following stance:

Of these thirty-five works we say: whoever wrote them was Plato!

***

There is some basis for the general notion that the works were written in groups in Plato himself: in the Timaeus, for example, there is a projected scheme of three dialogues, a trilogy. So we know that Plato at least sometimes conceived of ensembles of dialogues - trilogies - rather than conceiving of the dialogues each as a stand alone work. 

The arrangement into groups of four imitates the known practice in Athenian drama: four plays (three tragedies and a comedy) form a single dramatic group. The assumption is that Plato conceived of his dialogues as philosophical dramas and wrote them in programmes of four in the same way as the dramatists. This doesn't conflict with the abode-mentioned trilogy structures because the dramatic tetralogy is three tragedies plus one comedy, a trilogy plus an addendum. 

Clearly, some extant dialogues belong together. But which dialogues belong with which? It is a very complex question. Is there, moreover, a single over-arching scheme uniting the tetralogies or whatever other groupings we discern in the canon?

Here are a few useful points about the thirty-five dialogues:

Performed dialogues = 26
Narrated dialogues = 9

Narrated dialogues narrated by Socrates = 6
Narrated dialogues narrated by other than Socrates = 3

Narrated to a named person = 2
Narrated to an unnamed person = 2
Narrated to an indeterminate audience = 5

***

Regarding the over-all organizing principle of the canon, it is my contention that the dialogues are grouped around various Athenian religious festivals and that the various dialogues are related to one or more deity. I am especially interested in the time signatures in the dialogues. I think that Plato wrote works for particular times in the Athenian calendar. Sometimes this is explicit but often it is just hinted at. For instance, in the Parmenides we are explicitly told that it is set on the Greater Panathenaea. In the Phaedrus, on the other hand, it is only the chirping of the cicadas in the trees that lets us know it is high summer.





- Harper 

Vampire myths as counter-Islamic

It has long been my surmise that the vampire myths, even as they have formed in the popular imagination, are essentially anti- or counter-Islamic in origin. I mentioned this in a class recently and it reminded me that I am yet to make a case for this in writing. I have talked about it and described it to people for years, but not put it in writing. In all the literature I have perused regarding vampires I have never seen anything of this mentioned. I think it is obvious. (There are lots of things in Western culture that are anti-Islamic in this way.)

It is a simple proposal. I am saying that the vampire myths are an expression of a dark mythology that comes out of Christo-Islamic demonization of religious opponents; in this case, a product of Romano/Turkish tensions. Almost all of the various motifs that assemble around the figure of the vampire can be explained in this way. This is on top of the historical and geographical elements that form the basic structure of the thesis.

The vampire, I maintain, is a complex of ideas and motifs growing out of Christian demonization of the Muslim Other. It is a mythology about Otherness. It was this before it was developed into its familiar form by Bram Stoker, but I maintain that his agenda - conscious or unconscious - was counter-Islamic too. Stoker was close friends with Gladstone. It was Gladstone, let us recall, who turned British foreign policy against the Ottoman Empire. Gladstone and his circle, among them Stoker, were viciously and axiomatically anti-Turk. Stoker's myth grows from anti-Turk soil.

Some basic points:

Vampires come from Transylvania

Geographical proximity. These myths come from the border of Christendom and the Islamic world. They are the product of the tensions between the two civilizations. The vampire legends move into western Europe from the Balkans and other eastern European Christian/Islamic borderlands.

The Vampire myths are based on Vlad the Impaler

The history behind the myth points to Christian/Muslim origins. Vlad's infamous cruelty was dedicated to the protection of Christianity in Eastern Europe from the Turks. This cruel figure is projected onto the vampire. The demonization of the victim.

No reflection in a mirror

Vampires have no reflection in a mirror because they are already reflections. This mythology is about Otherness and projection. One thing going on here is the demonization of Islam's similarities to Christianity. The Christian response is: whatever the Muslims have in common with us is a diabolical inversion. Inversion of symbols is a key move in this mythology.

Vampires hate Crucifixes

Plain enough. Vampires are antithetical to Christianity. The Muslim conceived as the exactly anti-Christian.

Burnt by Holy Water

Plain enough.

Vampires come out at night

This important motif concerns the Muslim fast of Ramadan. The vampire sleeps all day and emerges when the sun goes down. So do Muslims during the fast, or so it can seem to outsiders. In Islam, the darkness of night (and night vigil) is characteristic of piety. Here we see that element of Islamic spirituality cast as satanic.

The Black Cape

Muslims - both male and female - wearing black capes is a common sight in traditional Islamic culture.  Travellers often describe them as bat-like. Indeed, I have seen this myself. At Ramadan, the movement of women (and men) draped in black around the streets. In a Turkish context, see the capes worn in the Mevlevi Order, for example. The Sufi murid is often described as "dead" and, indeed, as "living dead" and wears a black cape (hirka) to signify the tomb. The distinctive Mevlevi fez (kulah or sikke) signifies the tombstone, as Rumi and other Mevlevi authorities tell us. The vampire as the "living dead" is specifically counter-Sufi in this context.

The gnostic elements in vampire mythology, to which some like to point, should always be understood through the mediation of Sufism here.

Vampires drink blood

A play on the idea that the Turks are "blood-thirsty" but also a parody of the fact that Muslims don't drink blood. Blood is forbidden under halal food laws. Thus do vampires drink blood. More generally, this motif reports the actual savagery of battle in such borderlands; war often degenerates into cannibalism (vampirism is a type of cannibalism, after all), even in our own times.

The metal silver

The metal silver appears in many vampire motifs. Silver is the characteristic sacred metal of Islam. (Muslim men, for instance, are forbidden from wearing gold. Silver is much more common.)

There are, of course, deeper pre-Christian foundations for the idea of the vampire - a vitality-sucking demon is a common motif in mythologies everywhere, no doubt; I am talking about the specifically Western manifestations of this mythology in relatively modern times.

I have much more to say about this. Another time. In general though, if you don't appreciate that the historic Christo-Islamic tensions are "a battle raging in a single system", as Hichem Djait put it, then you are only considering half of the equation. Any account of the underside of Western mythology that neglects the construction of the "Saracens" and "Turks" as Other and ignores the impact of that upon "occult" themes in Western culture is naive.

Importantly, this argument shouldn't be seen as just another recital in liberal Islamophobia apologetics - the argument is that the vampire myths are myths of the borderlands, the fault lines. So, for example, it suggests that Islam and the West do not mix as readily as the multiculturalists suggest. There are real, structural divisions. These border myths reveal the darker side of these tensions.

On a personal note, this thesis is important to me. I've spent thirty years as a Westerner exploring Islam. This is not a thesis formed on a whim. The mutual demonization of Islam and Christendom (to say nothing of the Jews) is potent and forms the substrata of our entire psychic make-up. Islam is what is on the other side of the mirror. 

This thesis should not be construed as just an instance of "Islamophobia". On the contrary, it admits the deep and fundamental, visceral, unconscious tensions that operate in Christian/Islamic discourse - these are tectonic pressures. These are myths of the fault line.







- Harper McAlpine Black

The Hemlock Appreciation Society

I think it is very Platonic to have an ironic facade to a serious enterprise. That is the inspiration behind the Hemlock Appreciation Society. (The Society began among a few friends from the University over coffee and lamentations about intellectual life in this town.) We're working on developing this idea in creative ways, most of them in the off-line world.

Here is our charter:

CHARTER

ὁ δὲ ἀνεξέταστος βίος οὐ βιωτὸς ἀνθρώπῳ

The Society exists for the study of Platonic philosophy as a body of perennial wisdom.

We read the dialogues of Plato.

Membership is by invitation only.

The motto of the Society is: 'Philosophy begins in wonder!'

The oath of membership is 'By the dog!'

Members are required to keep their membership concealed from casual inquirers.

The duration of membership is the next three lifetimes or until the member achieves the Vision of the Good, whichever comes first.

The proceedings of the Society are conducted in the memory of our comrade and friend in philosophy Algis Uzdavinys (1962-2010)

Prosperity. 

CONDUCT

Proceedings of the Society shall be conducted as follows:

Quorum - Quorum is two or more members of the Society.

The Reading - One of the members shall read a passage from the Phaedo.

The Toast - One of the members shall propose a toast "By the dog" to which all members in attendance shall drink.

Thereafter, philosophy. 

The Equality of Women in the Republic

The Straussian reading of Plato depends upon knowing irony when you see it. Infamously, Straussians view the doctrine of the equality of women as presented in the Republic as a case of irony: it is a joke, they say, among gentlemen. Strauss finds it impossible to believe that Plato, given his historical context and the sociology of ancient Greece, was being serious.

Once again I find this a case where my reading of Plato resolves questions that others find confounding. To spell it out, my reading of Plato goes like this (in brief):

I suppose that Plato was a loyal, noble-born son of Athens, a patriot, and, as such, a dedicated devotee of the traditional religious cultus of the polis. He lives, however, in a turbulent age when the authority of traditional religion is waning and the traditional gods are being undermined by new thinking and increasing cosmopolitanism. 

I suppose that Plato saw in Socrates someone who was attempting to understand the traditional polis religion (Athenian religion) through the lens of new thinking; not to undermine it, but to defend it. (This is what is lampooned in Aristophanes' The Clouds.) The Platonic enterprise is an extension of this Socratic one; Plato wants to revivify the Athenian religion and explain its profundity in a new mode of understanding.

The wider background to the tumult of this period is the collision of Hellenic and Persian civilizations. The crisis in Athenian polis religion is signalled in Aristophanes' Clouds as an illicit change to the lunar calendar. 

The specific cultus to which Plato is referring is that of the gods of the Acropolis and Athene herself. Plato's philosophia is the religion of Athene recast. Plato's Republic is an idealised (antedeluvian) Athens. Plato's cosmology is a recasting of the foundation myths of the city. Plato's metaphysics is an explanation of the theology of Athene. In Plato, the philosophical path is a means of becoming "earthborn" like the golden souls of ancient Athens. What we find in Plato are the ancient (esoteric) teachings of the Acropolis. 

Plato looked to several sources beyond Athens for the revivification of the traditional polis religion, with three chief ones: 

1. Egypt, and the parallel traditions of the sister city, Sais, (a Solonic heritage), 

2. the young polities of Magna Grecia (Pythagoreans, Parmenides, Timaeus of Locri) where the religious and cultic foundations of polities were being newly enacted. 

3. Persia, in the application of Persian sexigesimal mathematics to Attican mythology.

We could also mention Orphism in this context. But all of this was in the service of his city and his goddess. 

I therefore see the figure of Athene, and the other deities of the Acropolis, shining in the background of all the Platonic dialogues. I think the works of Plato need to be read in this context.

But we also need to bear in mind that Plato's enterprise - an Athenian Reformation - is a delicate and dangerous undertaking, as Socrates discovered. In Plato, much is concealed. When I read Plato I do so as a detective, hunting for the hints and clues and symbols and allusions he has left for readers who would have known the polity religion well. 

Therefore: if the Republic is an idealised Athens, then the citizens of the Republic are idealised Athenians who are perfections of Athenian values. These are the values of the goddess Athene. Philosophy. Defensive warfare. And - the subject of this post - female equality. Athene, indeed, is as great as Zeus to Athenians. She is the most masculine of the goddesses. She embodies the equal female.  It is not surprising then that this is what we find in the Republic. It is not a joke. Nor is it even a radically new idea, in some respects. It is an extrapolation of ideas inherent in the theology of Athene. Note that the equality of women in the Republic is mentioned pertaining to military service, and again in the Timaeus and then explicitly in the Critias:

the figure and the image of the goddess, whom they of old set up in armor, according to the custom of their time, when exercises of war were common to woman and man alike. (110B)

The source of this "radical" idea of female equality is the "goddess" herself, namely Athene. It is a distinctly Athenian concept.

So much else in Plato can be explained in exactly this way. I simply read Plato in relation to the religion of the polis of which he (and Socrates) was a citizen. Then begins the tension between the local and the universal.






- Harper

Reading Plato

The refreshing thing about Leo Strauss is that he resists a merely chronological reading of Plato. Equally, he puts into sharp contrast the general tendencies in modern Platonic scholarship to impose a chronological framework upon the Platonic dialogues. Recently, I borrowed several works by English Platonic scholars, as well as the Cambridge Companion to Plato, and was immediately struck by the pervasive assumptions of chronological reading. It has given me new insights into exactly why I have for so long found the academic study of Plato so utterly irksome. When I was much younger Plato was my passion. I dreamed of going to an academic life and spending my days immersed in Platonic philosophy. The reality turned out to be much different. I found the academic establishment - the classicists - profoundly uninspiring. I wondered how and why it was that so many intelligent people - scholars, and Oxford dons - could turn Plato into such a boring old drudge. Very quickly I recoiled from the prevailing academic discourse and moved into other fields. Now I have a fuller view of why this was and what had caused me to recoil; it was the chronological framework through which virtually all academic scholarship on Plato, at least in the English tradition, is conducted. It is, as I say, refreshing to encounter Strauss because he is not part of that tradition and because he offers new and fertile ways of looking at Plato.

It's a question of how to read the Platonic dialogues. In the English tradition, the first thing you do arrange them in chronological order. Then the game becomes plotting Plato's "evolution"  from his "early" phase, through his "middle" phase to his "late" phase. That is, the English study Plato through time, through the lens of history. The distinction between the early "Socratic" dialogues and the later "Platonic" ones is the mainstay of this framework. But this is not really the practice of philosophy. It is, rather, a "history" of philosophy. The English tradition is pervaded with historical thinking and historical assumptions. It is everywhere in English Platonic scholarship. And it is immensely dull. After a short exposure to it, one never wants to read Plato ever again. This is how I feel about scholars like Vlastos, too (an American). Great erudition, tight scholarship, painstaking study - all to reduce Plato to an historical curiosity of little or no value outside of his time period. I started off loving Plato; if I had followed Vlastos and co. I would have ended up hating the entire endeavour. It is good to discover that others feel the same and that there are alternative ways of reading Plato.

I felt refreshed when I discovered the works of the German scholar Friedlander. Here was a reader of Plato who viewed the dialogues as literary creations, not as signposts on a road of historical "evolution". More recently, I found the writings of Bernard Suzanne. He wants to consider the dialogues as a single edifice and not as a stream of "development". He proposes that the dialogues were written in a much shorter period of time than do the English developmentalists. That strikes me as a wise move. He wants to consider all the dialogues as a single body of work. That is how I always regarded them, and still do. The basic approach is this: the Platonic philosophy, or the Platonic viewpoint, is complete and intact, in toto, right from the beginning - it is then extrapolated and "unpacked" in multiform encounters through the various dialogues. It is not a case that Plato "developed" or "evolved" - he has a single view and it is expanded and exposed through his works. That is, all the dialogues are a singular conception, not a development of ideas from immature to mature.

For me, a very helpful encounter was the works of the great French metaphysician, Rene Guenon. He is a writer - a mathematician - who composes essays and books over some 40 years and yet there is virtually no development in his ideas. His point of view is exactly the same at the end as it was at the beginning, and yet his works are fascinatingly rich explorations of the same viewpoint applied to various religious and philosophical traditions. After reading Guenon I felt more secure in my assumptions about Plato. Plato also is a metaphysician, and a mathematician. Why is it not possible that Plato had a firm position from the outset and that he has explored it in sundry ways and various contexts in his many works? In that case, reading Plato through a historical or chronological lens is as radically wrong as looking for "development" in Guenon. In both cases, whatever "development" there is is hardly the important thing and it is quite wrong to place it at the centre of our studies.

Plato, though, is a more complicated case. This is because the man himself nowhere appears in his writing and because, as Strauss wants to emphasize, the voice through which we might assume Plato speaks - namely Socrates - is not a plain speaker but rather an "ironical man". That is, the above mentioned "firm position" that I suppose Plato held from the outset is not given voice; it is hidden, indeed carefully hidden. I acknowledge all the difficulties this presents, but I don't think that those difficulties are better resolved by a chronological reading. Nor is this to avoid the difficulties posed by the question of historical consciousness in Plato. Clearly, Plato knows himself to be a man on the cusp of history - even his fictions are presented with the semblance of history. It is significant, for example, that there appear to be no fictional characters in the dialogues. The dialogues are not a-temporal but rather seem suspended in a tension between inside and outside of time. No doubt an entirely a-historical reading of Plato would be wrong too.

All the same, I see no compelling reasons to suppose that, for example, the Laws should be regarded as Plato's final work, or even as a late work, or why the Apology should be regarded as the first or an early work. The question of the relationship between dialogues is a complicated one. Disparate dialogues clearly allude to one another (the Timaeus to the Republic, for example) in ways that are altogether confounding. Imposing a chronological structure based on a supposed relationship of the author to Socrates does nothing to resolve such difficulties but it destroys much along the way. It is better to consider the intractable nature of such difficulties as part of the design and to deal with them in that way.

We find an instructive parallel - albeit from a very different tradition - in the Koran. It is a work consisting of visionary narrations from over several decades but it is not arranged chronologically - there is some other ordering principle. The very first move that Western scholars make, however, is to try to rearrange the surahs (chapters) in chronological order on the basis of the Prophet's presumed growing and changing sense of mission. This does violence to the text; it denatures it. This is how I feel about attempts to read Plato chronologically - it denatures the text. The Koranic revelations are thoroughly shuffled. I think that Plato has deliberately shuffled his dialogues and is working to quite different ordering principles. What those principles are is another matter, but we can be sure they go beyond and are much more interesting than flat, prosaic chronology.




- Harper McAlpine Black

The Gardening metaphor in Plato

Leo's Strauss' reading of Plato is based in an important passage in the Phaedrus where, we are told of the deficiencies of the written text. A written text is deficient, Socrates and Phaedrus agree, because it always says the same thing and it says it exactly the same to everyone. Living speech is not like that.

Strauss, quite correctly I think, detects in this section of the Phaedrus a key to understanding Plato's own works. Not all texts are equal. The best sort of text counters the inherent deficiencies of writing. Such texts don't say the same thing to everyone; they are designed to be read differently by different types of readers. This is the foundation of Strauss' notion of the "esoteric text."

It is a very important passage for me, though, because of its reflections in the opening passages of the Timaeus-Critias ensemble. By extension, I am also interested in the horticultural metaphor that runs through this passage but about which Strauss says nothing. By my reading, the mythological underpinnings of the Timaeus cosmology is based in the Athenian cultus of autochthony. Here in the Phaedrus Socrates is comparing philosophy to the growing of plants from the soil.

Moreover, I follow the Phaedrus passage to the same metaphor in the Theaetetus, and there we find the soil/gardening metaphor explicitly combined with the midwife metaphor. This is a very important passage for my reading of Plato over-all. Midwifery and horticulture are collapsed together. Here we have philosophy as autochthony. Here it is:

***

Soc. Did you ever remark that they [midwives] are also most cunning matchmakers, and have a thorough knowledge of what unions are likely to produce a brave brood? 

Theaet. No, never. 

Soc. Then let me tell you that this is their greatest pride, more than cutting the umbilical cord. And if you reflect, you will see that the same art which cultivates and gathers in the fruits of the earth, will be most likely to know in what soils the several plants or seeds should be deposited. 

Theaet. Yes, the same art. 

Soc. And do you suppose that with women the case is otherwise? 

Theaet. I should think not.

***

Here is the extending text of the passage in the Phaedrus:

Soc. I cannot help feeling, Phaedrus, that writing is unfortunately like painting; for the creations of the painter have the attitude of life, and yet if you ask them a question they preserve a solemn silence. And the same may be said of speeches. You would imagine that they had intelligence, but if you want to know anything and put a question to one of them, the speaker always gives one unvarying answer. And when they have been once written down they are tumbled about anywhere among those who may or may not understand them, and know not to whom they should reply, to whom not: and, if they are maltreated or abused, they have no parent to protect them; and they cannot protect or defend themselves.

Phaedr. That again is most true.

Soc. Is there not another kind of word or speech far better than this, and having far greater power-a son of the same family, but lawfully begotten?

Phaedr. Whom do you mean, and what is his origin?

Soc. I mean an intelligent word graven in the soul of the learner, which can defend itself, and knows when to speak and when to be silent.

Phaedr. You mean the living word of knowledge which has a soul, and of which written word is properly no more than an image?

Soc. Yes, of course that is what I mean. And now may I be allowed to ask you a question: Would a husbandman, who is a man of sense, take the seeds, which he values and which he wishes to bear fruit, and in sober seriousness plant them during the heat of summer, in some garden of Adonis, that he may rejoice when he sees them in eight days appearing in beauty? at least he would do so, if at all, only for the sake of amusement and pastime. But when he is in earnest he sows in fitting soil, and practises husbandry, and is satisfied if in eight months the seeds which he has sown arrive at perfection?

Phaedr. Yes, Socrates, that will be his way when he is in earnest; he will do the other, as you say, only in play.

Soc. And can we suppose that he who knows the just and good and honourable has less understanding, than the husbandman, about his own seeds?

Phaedr. Certainly not.

Soc. Then he will not seriously incline to "write" his thoughts "in water" with pen and ink, sowing words which can neither speak for themselves nor teach the truth adequately to others?

Phaedr. No, that is not likely.

Soc. No, that is not likely-in the garden of letters he will sow and plant, but only for the sake of recreation and amusement; he will write them down as memorials to be treasured against the forgetfulness of old age, by himself, or by any other old man who is treading the same path. He will rejoice in beholding their tender growth; and while others are refreshing their souls with banqueting and the like, this will be the pastime in which his days are spent.

Phaedr. A pastime, Socrates, as noble as the other is ignoble, the pastime of a man who can be amused by serious talk, and can discourse merrily about justice and the like.

Soc. True, Phaedrus. But nobler far is the serious pursuit of the dialectician, who, finding a congenial soul, by the help of science sows and plants therein words which are able to help themselves and him who planted them, and are not unfruitful, but have in them a seed which others brought up in different soils render immortal, making the possessors of it happy to the utmost extent of human happiness.

Phaedr. Far nobler, certainly.

Soc. And now, Phaedrus, having agreed upon the premises we decide about the conclusion.

Phaedr. About what conclusion?

Soc. About Lysias, whom we censured, and his art of writing, and his discourses, and the rhetorical skill or want of skill which was shown in them-these are the questions which we sought to determine, and they brought us to this point. And I think that we are now pretty well informed about the nature of art and its opposite.

Phaedr. Yes, I think with you; but I wish that you would repeat what was said.

Soc. Until a man knows the truth of the several particulars of which he is writing or speaking, and is able to define them as they are, and having defined them again to divide them until they can be no longer divided, and until in like manner he is able to discern the nature of the soul, and discover the different modes of discourse which are adapted to different natures, and to arrange and dispose them in such a way that the simple form of speech may be addressed to the simpler nature, and the complex and composite to the more complex nature-until he has accomplished all this, he will be unable to handle arguments according to rules of art, as far as their nature allows them to be subjected to art, either for the purpose of teaching or persuading;-such is the view which is implied in the whole preceding argument.

Wayman in love - the sociological gaze

One of my all-time favourite poems is by the Canadian poet Tom Wayman and its called Wayman in Love. It's a funny poem about a very serious matter - the intrusion of what I call the "sociological gaze" into the intimate lives of ordinary people. Sociologists think they have a right to study everything and everyone. Nothing is sacred. Everything is reduced down to power relationships. It is an ugly, impoverished vision of human beings. The politicisation of sexuality is by far its ugliest and most destructive manifestation. Poor Tom Wayman...

WAYMAN IN LOVE

At last Wayman gets the girl into bed.
He is locked in one of those embraces
so passionate his left arm is asleep
when suddenly he is bumped in the back.
"Excuse me," a voice mutters, thick with German.
Wayman and the girl sit up astounded
as a furry gentleman in boots and a frock coat
climbs in under the covers.

"My name is Doktor Marx," the intruder announces
settling his neck comfortably on the pillow.
"I'm here to consider for you the cost of a kiss."
He pulls out a notepad. "Let's see now,
we have the price of the mattress, this room must be rented,
your time off work, groceries for two,
medical fees in case of accidents..."

"Look," Wayman says,
"couldn't we do this later."
The philosopher sighs and continues: "You too are affected, Miss.
If you are not working, you are going to resent
your dependent position. This will influence
I assure you, your most intimate moments..."

"Doctor, please," Wayman says, "All we want
is to be left alone."
But another beard, more nattily dressed,
is also getting into the bed.
There is a shifting and heaving of bodies
as everyone wriggles out room for themselves.
"I want you to meet a friend from Vienna,"
Marx says. "This is Doktor Freud."

The newcomer straightens his glasses,
peers at Wayman and the girl.
"I can see," he begins,
"that you two have problems..."


- Tom Wayman

This is a poem just waiting for feminist analysis, isn't it? You don't need to go any further than the first line. At last Wayman gets the girl into bed. Clearly, Wayman is a sexual predator. The words "at last" are a confession that he has, in fact, stalked this poor woman. And the words "gets the girl" tell us that he thinks of her as an object to be possessed. There ought to be laws against it! Oh wait! There are! Just ask Julian Assange...

There's nothing more intrusive but less sexy than sociology. In all seriousness, the intrusion of the sociological gaze into the intimate lives of human beings is one of the most abhorrent and appalling aspects of the times in which we live. Wayman speaks for the common man...

"Doctor, please," Wayman says, "All we want is to be left alone."



- Harper McAlpine Black

Socrates as Daedalus

Since I identify autochthony as the central (but “secret”) theme of the Platonic dialogues, it is a reasonable question to ask: if so, where does Socrates fit in? How does the central character in Plato’s dialogues, Socrates, fit into the theme of autochthony? The identity and meaning of the character of Socrates is not something I have addressed.

My reading of Plato, it might be objected more generally, is anti- or at least non-Socratic. Following ancient tradition, I usually put the Timaeus and the Parmenides at the centre of the dialogues, a cosmology and a metaphysics. But Socrates is not the primary speaker in either of those works, both of which are usually designated as “late” in the supposed chronology of Plato’s works. They are not “Socratic” dialogues like the supposedly early works. My autochthony theme is largely extracted from a reading of the Timaeus and Critias ensemble. What of Socrates? If my larger reading of Plato has any merit then I must explain the place of Socrates in the Platonic autochthony.

My first response to this is to emphasize all the ways in which Socrates was an Athenian and, I would argue, Plato presents him as the archetypal Athenian. Only the archetypal Athenian could describe the archetypal Athens, as Socrates does in the Republic. There is a wealth of evidence in the dialogues in support of this view, but Crito 52b and 53a are enough. Socrates was a loyal son of Athens, who never left Athens for any other land. Autochthony is the boast of the Athenians. There is no one more Athenian than Socrates. He is autochthonous in that general sense just because he is a native born Athenian.

More specifically, though, in Euthyphro, 11c and 15b we are told that Socrates’ genealogical claim is through Daedalus. This is why ancient tradition tells us that Socrates was a stonemason. The name Daedalus means “skilful worker”. Socrates was a craftsman. The Daedalus from whom he claimed ancestry, though, is specifically the Athenian, and not the Cretan, Daedalus. The Athenians had acquired the Daedalus mythos from Crete. In this appropriation, Daedalus becomes a native of Athens, the grandson of Erectheus, the autochthonous line.

In Euthyphro 15b, moreover, Socrates is not merely in the line of Daedalus but is portrayed as Daedalus (sort of). I think this is the key to understanding the character of Socrates in Plato. He is a Daedalus figure. He is, pre-eminently, the “skilful worker”. In this we must understand “skill” as an aspect of “sophia” (wisdom) and as an attribute of the goddess Athena.

Objection: why would this "key" to Socrates be hidden in the Euthyphro and not be mentioned, for example, in the Phaedo?

Answer: The "fortunate coincidence" at Phaedo 58a by which Socrates' execution is delayed concerns the story of Theseus. This puts the whole of the Phaedo in the context of the Theseus/Daedalus mythos. 

Further: to consider Socrates as Daedalus casts new light on the dialogue called the Laws, the only dialogue in which Socrates does not appear and the only dialogue not set in Athens. Instead, we find an unnamed generic "Athenian" in Crete. This Platonic configuration of references surely alludes to the shared mythology of Athens and Crete.

By extension, Socrates in the Phaedo is the man who knows his way through the labyrinth, the minotaur being in this analogy the fear of death.

No doubt Socrates-as-Daedalus is a well-covered motif. My specific interest here is the connection to autochthony.

I point out, too, that the reference at Euthyphro 15b reminds us of the beginning of the Timaeus. In the Euthyphro Socrates is Daedalus, he says, because he is bringing Euthyphro's ideas into motion. But in the Timaeus he asks Timaeus to do this: the Locrian answers Socrates' request to see his ideal state in action. The Locrian, therefore, plays the demiurgic role there, not Socrates. It seems, then, that this is the role of the central figures in Plato's dialogues, both the Socratic and the non-Socratic dialogues. The central figure, in all cases, uses "skilful means'.





- Harper McAlpine Black




 

The Remembered Text

The text is too much with us. We are all much too bookish. I am, anyway. After long years teaching University courses, I'm saturated in text. I've read enough books to sink a ship. In all likelihood, I'd read more books by the time I was twenty years old than Saint Augustine read in his entire life, and now, decades later, it is just ridiculous. This is not a boast, it's a confession of a sin, and it's a sign of the times in which we live. Too much text. Too many books.

I recall the first time I experienced the horror of books. I was a new employee in a city bookstore. The boss delegated me to 'General Fiction' and my task all day was to clean and dust and alphabetize. I stood before the 'General Fiction' section and beheld the rows and rows of shelves jam-packed with endless novels. It suddenly struck me that there were more books in the world than the world could ever possibly need, and I wondered why anyone would spend their lives reading such a mountain of fiction or even more why anyone would spend their lives writing this stuff. It was my first sense of living in a text flood. All the same, I've loved books and devoted my life to books in one way or another.

After a while, though, the mere textuality of text is deadening. I go looking for ways to bring the text alive. One of the best ways - the most obvious really - is simply to put the text aside. Stop reading it. Only think about what you remember of the text. Because, I realise, the remembered text is that version of the text that is alive. The words on the page are dead. When we read, we internalise the book and so we weave it into ourselves. This internal book is a living thing. I've come to appreciate the remembered text and come to dislike and have an aversion to the textual text.

By the Remembered Text,  I don't mean the memorized text. The memorized text is a different thing again, although it might be considered a type of Remembered Text. Muslims have the Koran as a memorized text. I don't mean that. The Remembered Text is the text as the reader remembers it and with all the deficiencies and quirks of our puny faculties. The Remembered Text is a mottled and variegated thing.

We can identify many diverse things of which it will ordinarily consist:

(a) aspects of the text remembered correctly,
(b) aspects of the text mis-remembered to a greater or lesser degree,
(c) impressions (that join the gaps between facts)
(d) completely erroneous memories
(e) accidental importations from other texts
(f) related memories

Every text points to a lived truth beyond itself. The valuable part of a text is what you can carry with you.

The Remembered Text is an excellent teaching device. Here is a strategy for teaching philosophy to undergrads. The text in question, let us say, is the Apology of Socrates.

1. All students acquire a copy of the text and read it. If they read different translations, so much the better. We avoid the textual tyranny of everyone having the same translation.

2. Students are lectured briefly on the structure and technical characteristics of the text, but not on its themes or content.

3. Books away. Students must not bring the text to class, cannot have any notes and cannot access the text from laptops or iphones. No text.

4. Students discuss and debate the text from memory.

5. Students can consult the text after class, and can reread, but in all subsequent classes discussion and debate is from memory of the text. The text we use for philosophizing is the Remembered Text.

One of the peculiar joys of conducting classes like this is when the entire class, and the teacher, agree on a fabricated or mistaken reading. Someone says, "Socrates says..." and everyone either explicitly or tacitly agrees even though, as we find out later, Socrates said no such thing. A whole group of people, that is, can have a false memory, even of a very familiar text. In other cases, the Remembered Text is negotiated.

Better still, this is a method that completely cuts the grammarians among us off at the knees. Where students have a copy of the text there is always some bastard who says, "But Socrates uses the past participle in that sentence..." Not in the Remembered Text he doesn't. The grammar of the Remembered Text is fluid. Similarly, this method pulls the rug from under the budding lawyers among us. It puts an end to hair-splitting and finnicky textuality. Instead, it promotes living debate. You can't hide behind the text. You can't play games of "Plato says..." You can't trip people up with a destructive textual exactitude. There is more commerce in ideas.

I suspect this method would be useful in teaching or studying novels and fiction too. Students should be taught to identify and appreciate the Remembered Text, namely the text they have appropriated through reading and that they carry inside them. That, surely, is always the real treasure we extract from a book.

Living as we do in a flood of text, it is important - and vitally refreshing - to revisit earlier modes of life when the text was not so much with us. Once, the Remembered Text played a more important role for readers. You couldn't afford to own a book. you read it - devoured it - and acquired it through memory. Some people could memorize large amounts of text verbatim, but most readers had a highly polished and carefully acquired Remembered Text. We see a case of how formal this art could be in the early passages of Plato's Symposium where there is a discussion of various and contrasting rememberings of speeches which are carefully compared and that render the text of the Symposium as we have it related.

I'm inclined to think the Remembered Text is a healthy thing in religion too. I'm in rebellion against Protestant textuality and Rabbinical hermeneutics. The idea of putting a Bible in every hand and studying it in its every grammatical detail is horrifying. Far better if there was only a few Bibles here and there, and everyone was only allowed to read the text just once. For the most part, the text is inscribed in living memory, not marks upon a page.

An important instance of the Remembered Text is the synthetic "gospel" readers of the New Testament construct from the four parallel gospels. The reader collapses the four texts into a single Remembered Text which is at once all and none of them.





- Harper McAlpine Black