visiting Greece
All,
I will be going to Greece next Thursday (the 22nd) to visit family (my mother is Greek). I will be in Athens, stopping at Corinth on the way to Pyrgos (the town next door to Olympia) in the Peleponesus. I will have my xeroxed pages from Landmark Herotudus with me (I went to buy the Penguin version, but it felt too dense for me, I was going to miss the maps and commentary). This will be my first time in Greece with an ancient Greek text in my mind.
If you have thoughts/ideas on places I should see, please let me know. If there is anything of interest, I will e-mail photos when I am back – I am only gone just over a week.
– Caroline
some thoughts.
All,
Last night’s discussion has stayed with me for some reason. Like many, I only finished reading the text at lunch, so I didn’t have a lot of time to reflect. Here’s what comes to mind since:
1. In retrospect, I am not sure Phil and Pat ultimately disagree, or, more to the point, I think I agree with both. I want to agree with Pat that we should be able as a species to come to some bedrock understandings and that, having done so, we could eliminate some painfully stupid, harmful misunderstandings. (Maybe that’s what knowledge is?) Yet experience doesn’t give me a lot of hope for this on a any large scale. I also agree with where (I heard) Phil ending up: that we at least do what we can in ever-growing communities to expand critical thinking. Maybe knowledge qua knowledge is the embracing of critical thinking? I don’t have a proof for this but I think we’d be a lot better off if more embraced it and, with Socrates as a guide, I’ll plant the seed not bring it to term. 🙂
2. I really like the image of the soul as (partly) a block of wax, maybe soft, maybe hard, et cetera. We only touched on it briefly, but it resonates for me as a nice way to think about the soul.
3. I have reread the six-part “thing you both know and are perceiving…” passage (192 b – c) a couple of times today, and I’ll leave this last thought without additional editorializing:
“Reports that something hasn’t happened are always interesting to me, because as we know, there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say there are some things we know we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns–the ones we don’t know we know.
Don Rumsfeld (from the official transcript of the DoD briefing, 13 Feb., 2003)
This won Rumsfeld the “Foot in Mouth” prize, awarded annually by Great Britain’s Plain English Campaign. Said Campaign spokesman John Lister: “We think we know what he means. But we don’t know if we really know.”
Cheers,
Tim
May 2008 Plato – Theaetetus – audio recording
Here’s the audio recording for the May Plato call. Listenonline or download the mp3 file and listen to it as a podcast on youripod.
Some comments on a book about the Oracle of Delphi
Hi there, Herodoteans,
You may recall from my previous emails how amazed I am by the Oracle(s) at Delphi and what they were able to achieve — spiritually, culturally, politically, and economically — despite possessing no state, no military, and no key geographies.
To learn a little more about this I read a book called The Oracle: Ancient Delphi and the Science behind its Lost Secrets, by William Broad. However amazed I was before, I’m even more amazed now. Delphi’s influence lasted for more than 1,000 years, and was in many ways bigger than I thought.
The book is well written, has a gripping plot, and is easy to get through (<240 pages with pretty wide margins). I recommend it if you’re interested in the topic.
During a fit of jet-lag induced sleeplessness, I decided to write up some notes about it and add them to my Herodotus page, which is here.
A couple of tidbits:
• A few comments about the mechanics of the institution
• The Oracles were women chosen from among the citizens of Delphi.
• Originally they had to be young virgins, but after one Oracle was raped, the decision was made to choose 50+ year olds instead
• These women were thought of as people with ordinary powers through whom Apollo spoke.
• To be an Oracle at Delphi was among the highest status jobs a Hellenic woman could have.
• The job came with plenty of perks, including front row seats at the theater.
• The Oracles answered questions one day per month, 9 months per year
• They answered questions on the 7th day of the month — a day thought sacred to Apollo.
• They did not work during the winter. Hale and De Boer believe this is because they hydrocarbon vapors depended on heat to evaporate. This phenomenon is seen in some other hydrocarbon vents around the world.
• (During the winter Delphi’s focus became not Apollo, but Dionysus, and all sorts of orgiastic revelry took place there.)
• To put a question to the Oracle, you had to pay a nominal fee and sacrifice an animal. A goat was the preferred sacrifice. The omens from the sacrifice (e.g. condition of the liver; shaking of the ankles after water was poured on the goat) had to be just right, or you weren’t allowed to see the Oracle.
• The order of questioners was determined by the drawing of lots, though major patrons of the institution (e.g. Croesus) could get priority.
• You were allowed to ask one single question of the Oracle. You’d ask the question to a priest, who would then ask the Oracle. There is some debate as to whether you’d hear back directly from the Oracle or via the priest, but increasingly it seems the consensus is that you’d hear back directly from the Oracle.
• How the Oracles answered
• The Oracle sometimes spoke in verse, but as time went on more frequently spoke in prose.
• The Oracle answered lots of personal questions — e.g. should my son get married now or wait? — but was relatively unique in the Hellenic world for also being relied on for major questions involving state policy.
• Historian Catherine Morgan argues that the oracles gave more precise answers in the first few centuries than they did in the last several. She speculates that the prophecy given to Croesus — “you will destroy a great empire” — was a turning point in the Oracle’s approach, from more specific to more ambiguous
• The philosophy of the Oracles
• The Oracles tended to espouse an ethical philosophy that was radical at the time, and compared to prevailing mores, relatively humanistic and liberal
• The Oracles tended to stress the importance of intention — not just outcome — in determining guilt. Unlike many Greeks at the time, they considered it morally worse to try to kill someone and fail than to kill someone by accident.
• The Oracles tended to tell people to rely more on their own conscience than would be typical in a shame society.
• The Oracles tended to recommend forgiveness rather than dogmatic adherence to strict codes (like blood vengeance).
• The Oracles tended to prefer honesty poverty and to disdain garish pomposity (though that didn’t keep them from doing business with Croesus).
• The Oracles tended to tell people to respect local customs and religions (much as Herodotus seems to have done).
• The Oracles tended to be big proponents of freeing slaves.
• “Know thyself” was written over one door to the temple
• “Avoid extremes” was written over another door to the temple
Books 2 and 3 Landmark Herodotus – audio recording
Here’s the audio recording for Herodotus Books 2 and 3. Listen online ordownload the mp3 file and listen to it as a podcast on your ipod.
WSJ: Morality and the Western Canon?
Folks,
Very interesting book review – about a book called “Moral Clarity” – appeared in the Wall Street Journal today, Monday, May 5, 2008. The book, written by a German leftist professor, suggests that the problem with the left is the abandonment of the western canon.
To this stale discussion Susan Neiman brings a new thought: The problem with our liberal elites, she insists, is lame metaphysics – a lack of philosophical nerve. What they need is a bracing dose of the Great Books.
The reviewer finds some fault with the book – but concludes that despite its weaknesses, that it’s worth reading.
But the book’s lessons should not be lost on those of other ideological persuasions. As Ms. Neiman shows, simply raising the standard of “moral clarity” is not the same as meeting its demands. In public life as in the classroom, reflection ends where sloganeering begins.
Whether you are right, center, left (or like me an independent who doesn’t like those old categories), this is certainly an interesting book to see reviewed. We all are in agreement that a life of reflection – a life considered (to paraphrase Plato) – is a live worth living.
Would you like me to contact the author and find out if she’d be willing to speak to us by phone – perhaps in the fall?
Let me know,
Phil
P.S. For the readers of Plato, you should stop by the Reading Odyssey website to see how passionate and engaged the readers of Herodotus are this year!
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB120995159063066373.html
May 5, 2008
Moral Clarity
By Susan Neiman
(Harcourt, 467 pages, $27)
The seemingly endless contest between Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton is, among other things, a referendum on that perennial question: What ails the American left? Is the problem a failure to offer clear alternatives to the corporate coziness of the Republicans, or is it a lack of cultural and religious sympathy with the heartland? Is it a matter of substance or style, of insufficiently “progressive” policies or bicoastal swagger? To this stale discussion Susan Neiman brings a new thought: The problem with our liberal elites, she insists, is lame metaphysics – a lack of philosophical nerve. What they need is a bracing dose of the Great Books.
An American philosophy professor who directs the Einstein Forum in Potsdam, Germany, Ms. Neiman is a subtle and energetic guide to the unjustly maligned Western “canon.” But she is not some kind of scold or stodgy traditionalist, wagging a disapproving finger at our fall from a golden age. She is, in fact, a self-conscious woman of the left. She knows that our own debates over political and economic fundamentals have intellectual pedigrees worth learning, even at the cost of long hours spent among the most formidable of dead white European males. Her interest in the Bible and Plato, Hobbes and Burke, Hume and Rousseau springs not from nostalgia or an itch to debunk but from a need to think well in the present.
The task that Ms. Neiman sets for herself in “Moral Clarity” is to rescue today’s political left from its own philosophical handicaps. How can it be, she wonders, that “moral clarity” has come to be a catchphrase of conservatives while eliciting the knowing sneers of liberals? Why are irony, detachment and pessimism the favored modes of supposed sophisticates? Why is there such a fear of being “judgmental”? What has made firmly asserted ideals seem naïve if not dangerous?
Ms. Neiman points to many factors in the left’s retreat from universal principles. The demise of socialism has played a role, as has despair over the Bush administration and the war in Iraq. But the real source, she suggests, is a “conceptual collapse,” a self-destructive descent into identity politics, postmodern theory and victimology. Her peers have become paralyzed, she writes, by the view that moral judgments are, ultimately, little more than “a hypocritical attempt to assert arbitrary power over those with whom you disagree.”
For Ms. Neiman, the road back to the philosophical high ground leads through the Enlightenment. The central chapters of “Moral Clarity” remind us that the Enlightenment’s great thinkers, despite their often radical resistance to authority and convention, had their own robust moral lexicon. Rejecting religious fatalism, they judged societies by their capacity to produce mundane happiness. They held up rationality as the key to universal justice, and they saw in the human condition, for all its folly, a source of hope. More than that, Ms. Neiman shows, they revered the world that reason revealed to them. As Kant put it: “Two things fill the mind with awe and wonder . . . : the starry heavens above me and the moral law within me.”
Ms. Neiman writes with verve and a sometimes epigrammatic wit, especially when skewering her political comrades. Of their confusion and discomfort when asked to condemn the likes of the Taliban, she writes: “Tolerance is the virtue of disappointed old men; it can never serve as a rallying cry.” Nor does she go to the other extreme, showering contempt on all things religious. As she observes in a passage on the excesses of fundamentalism: “The fact that ideals can be perverted doesn’t mean that we can do without them; if our need for transcendence isn’t satisfied by the right kind of ideals, we may turn to the wrong ones.” She even manages to pay graceful tribute to the wisdom of the Jewish Sabbath.
Ms. Neiman’s account has its faults. For all her intelligence in discussing the appeal of Odysseus or the moral complexity of Abraham, she falters in her search for contemporary heroes. Her choices are predictable, almost trite – an Israeli peace activist, a famed Vietnam-era dissenter, a paragon of the civil-rights movement. The contrarian spirit of her book would have been better served by, say, a school-building Marine in Afghanistan or an evangelical combating AIDS in Africa. And Ms. Neiman’s practical judgment deserts her altogether in some of her attacks on President Bush, including her bizarre insistence that the president’s awkward use of “trifecta” in describing a trio of post-9/11 difficulties amounted to an instance of “evil.” In these cases, it is hard not to suspect her of playing to the prejudices of her friends and colleagues.
But these are small defects in an otherwise edifying book. For those on the left who can bear its mordant critique, “Moral Clarity” is a plea for renewal, an argument for re-engaging with the moral vocabulary of the country. But the book’s lessons should not be lost on those of other ideological persuasions. As Ms. Neiman shows, simply raising the standard of “moral clarity” is not the same as meeting its demands. In public life as in the classroom, reflection ends where sloganeering begins.
Mr. Rosen is the chief external affairs officer of the John Templeton Foundation.
Personal Names?
I was joking at the beginning of the call yesterday that I’m adopting Megabyzos as a nickname since it sounds cool. I was wondering if there was a standard convention for how people were given names during this time. Can Polykrates, Megabyzos, Herodotus, Otanes, etc be interpreted in some way? For example, maybe Megabyzos means something like, “swift cow with thorn in foot.”. Or, maybe that’s “Megabozo” per the call? ;-D. LOL
Jim Janicki
A comparison of Edward Curtis and Herodotus
I apologize in advance if this a somewhat oblique and tangential point, but I’ve really been taken by the literary/imagined aspects of the Histories like the story about the two children who the Egyptians test to determine which civilization came first and all the other flights of fancy; in this vein it struck me that there may be an apt parallel between Herodotus and Edward Curtis, who is a photographer whose work I really enjoy. I am sure most are familiar with his work documenting American Indians primarily such as the photograph below:
This image is pretty typical of his work. His images are usually beautifully framed and “capture” Native American Indians in traditional garb. There is a lot of controversy about Curtis though because he paid his subjects and often got them to dress in clothing they didn’t usually wear, or pose in ways they might not have, or because he altered pictures to remove distracting modern elements. So the women in the photo above are unlikely to have dressed this way for every day work like making food above. So ethnographers quibble with Curtis because he wasn’t rigorous enough (in the way perhaps that “serious” historians prefer Thucydides to Herodotus) and artists don’t fully appreciate him either. But for me Curtis falls right into a sweet spot of being a photographic historian and an artist, fulfilling both goals and achieving something greater than either discipline could alone. This is as close as I can get to articulating what I’m thinking about Herodotus right now; I’m as impressed by the literary elements/flights of fancy as I am by the history. For instance, the oracles are more interesting to me as narrative elements than as historical artifacts. Here’s another Curtis image fyi:
Notes on Book 3 have been posted
Hi folks,
I’ve posted my notes on the study questions for Book 3. They’re at the usual link: http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=ajdmt4cn3wfz_375gmtrjsc3
I’ll try to get some notes up for Book 2 before the call. They’ll also be at that same link.
If you want to write your own comments into that Google Doc, let me know and I’ll make you an editor of it.
Mark



Herodotus turns up in the most unlikely of places…
So I am reading an advance copy of David Carr’s memoir “Night of the Gun,” where he details his many years as a junkie, and Herodotus turns up as the father of not just history, but alcoholism:
“Booze has a nice, fat track record, dating back to soldiers toasting their victories under Herodotus.”
Perhaps he is referring to a different Herodotus, because I don’t remember ours leading any armies to victory, but then, I may not have gotten to that climax in the book yet!
Enjoy the day… the weather is MUCH nicer than yesterday.
-Dan
13. May 2008 by Arrian
Categories: Commentary, Herodotus | Tags: Herodotus | 1 comment