Showing posts with label Hesiod. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hesiod. Show all posts

Sunday 19 July 2015

I. F. Stone and the Trial of Socrates


"We had an agent—a well-known American journalist—with a good reputation, who severed his ties with us after 1956. I myself convinced him to resume them. But in 1968, after the invasion of Czechoslovakia ... he said he would never again take any money from us".

Major General Oleg Kalugin
KGB,
1992


I. F. Stone Interviewed aboout the Trial of Socrates

By I.F. Stone 

Last year, on his 70th birthday, in an interview with himself for this Magazine, retired journalist I.S. Stone spoke of his new-found joy in Greek studies and his hope of finding in them "one last scoop" that would help clear up some of the mystery which still surrounds the trial of Socrates, that cause célèbre which has tantalized scholars and historians for centuries. Now, he believes he has found new evidence that sheds light not only on the trial itself but on the complex politics of fifth-century Athens. Here – again in a self-interview – Mr. Stone sets forth his discovery and, at the same time, takes us on an adventure in learning and an armchair tour of the ancient world. 


Isn’t it a little late in the day to be re-examining the trial of Socrates? I thought that was 25 centuries ago?

It was held, to be exact, in 399 B.C.

And now, in A.D. 1979, you have discovered something newsworthy – excuse the expression – about a trial that the wire services covered 2378 years ago?

This obsession with the trial of Socrates is not mine alone. Scholars and historians have been puzzled by it for centuries, and still are.

What’s the puzzle?

The Athens of Socrates’s time has gone down in history as the very place where democracy and freedom of speech were born. Yet that city put Socrates, its most famous philosopher, to death. Presumably this was because it citizens did not like what he was teaching. Yet he had been teaching there all his life, unmolested. Why did they wait until he was 70, and had only a few years to live, before executing him?

Why should this fascinate an old Washington muckraker like you?

Because it’s a black eye for all I believe in, for democracy and free speech. Anyone who starts out to study the problem of free speech in depth – as I did after ill health forced me to give up my Weekly – is irresistibly drawn back to ancient Athens, where it all began.

Isn’t that pretty far from home base, from current concerns and difficulties?

Not really. All our basic problems are there in miniature. I fell in love with the Athenians and the participatory democracy they developed. Free discussion was the rule everywhere – in the Assembly, the law courts, the theatre, and the gymnasiums where they spent much of their leisure. Free speech – what the Greeks called parrhasia – was as much taken for granted as breathing. 

But then I was stopped, or stumped, by this contradictory and traumatic spectacle of what they did to Socrates. These people and this city, to which I look back for inspiration – how could they have condemned this philosopher to death? How could so blatant a violation of free speech occur in a city that prided itself on freedom of inquiry and expression?

But why should we care at this late date?

Because Plato turned the trial of his master, Socrates, into a trial of Athens and of democracy. He used it to demonstrate that the common people were too ignorant, benighted and fickle to entrust with political power. In Plato’s "Apology," the contrast drawn between the nobility of Socrates and the grim verdict of his juror-judges indicted democracy in the eyes of posterity. And thanks to his genius, no other trial except that of Jesus has so captured the imagination of Western man.

Plato made Socrates the secular martyred saint of the struggle against democracy. He stigmatized it as "mobocracy." Yet this was the very same "mob" which applauded the anti-war plays of Aristophanes when Athens was fighting for its life against Sparta. (No such antiwar plays were allowed, by either side, during our last two World Wars). This was the same "mob" whose eagerness for new ideas, and its readiness to hear them, drew philosophers from all over the ancient world. It made Athens – in the proud words of Pericles – "the school of Hellas," the university of the Greek world. It is the high repute of Athens that makes the trial of Socrates so puzzling.

And now you think you can throw a little fresh light upon it?

I’ve been happily bogged down in ancient Athens for several years, trying to explore all of Greek thought and civilization, in order to reach a better understanding of the trial. In my researches amid the ancient documents I recently stumbled on a crucial bit of evidence, hitherto overlooked, which makes the trial and its outcome a little less inexplicable.

I hope your life-insurance policies are fully paid up. The classical scholars will be lying in wait for you, with knives sharpened. No trial in history has been more intimately studied, pored over and speculated upon. And you, an interloper and – most horrid of academic epithets – a "journalist," believe you have found something they all overlooked! Have you seen any unidentified flying objects lately.?

Sneer if you will, but I’ve been encouraged by a remark of Jakob Burckhardt, the great Swiss historian of the Renaissance and of Greek culture: To emphasize the importance of restudying the classics in every generation, Burckhardt once said that, in a hundred years, someone would reread Thucydides and find something in his history "we had all overlooked."

How can a newspaperman find something new to report about a trial that took place so long ago?

You re-examine all the source material for yourself. You go back to the texts in the original language, so that you can evaluate every nuance. You search out internal contradictions and curious evasions. It’s no so different from digging the real truth out of a Pentagon or State Department document.

Could you fill me in on the sources for the trial – and do it, please, in less than three volumes?

I can do it in one sentence: The sources are scanty and one-sided. The only contemporary accounts are by two disciples of Socrates, Plato and Xenophon, both anxious to put their beloved master in as good a light as possible. But they do not give us a transcript of the actual trial. They give us their own conception of what Socrates said, or perhaps their own conception of what he should have said in his own defense. Plato’s exquisite, polished version, like his Socratic dialogues, can more reasonably be read as fictionalized biography. In Xenophon, we are told that Socrates’s "inner voice" forbade him to prepare a defense. There is even one ancient tradition that tells us he was silent before his judges.

What of the prosecution’s side?

We have no record of it. We know it only by indirection from the two "Apologies," one by Plato, the other by Xenophon – the word "apology" in Greek means defense -- and from the "memorabilia," or memoirs, of Socrates by Xenophon. It’s like trying to cover a trial when one is barred from the courtroom except to hear the defendant’s summation to the jury.

Do we know the actual charges against Socrates?

There were two charges: first, that Socrates violated the law by "refusing to do reverence to the gods recognized by the city, and introducing other new divinities," and second, by "corrupting the youth." But we do not have the text of the laws on which these charges were based, nor the specific allegations.

So we do not know just what Socrates is supposed to have said or done that made him seem disrespectful of the city gods. Nor do we know what was meant by the charge of corrupting the youth. Under Athenian legal procedure such specifics were required in a preliminary complaint and hearing before a magistrate, who then decided whether the allegations and the evidence were sufficient to warrant a trial. But we have no account of this preliminary procedure, the equivalent of our grand jury.

Didn’t Plato’s dialogue the "Euthyphro" cover the preliminary examination?

That’s a common impression, but it’s wrong. The "Euthyphro" pictures Socrates arriving for the preliminary hearing. But he gets no farther than the portico of the examining magistrate. There he engages in a long and inconclusive conversation with Euthyphro, the defendant in another case. The subject they discuss is the proper definition of piety or holiness. It’s charming, but tells us nothing of what happened when Socrates went in for his own arraignment.

Why do you think Plato chose to be so uninformative?

A lawyer might surmise that he blocked out as much as he could of the specific charges because they were too damaging and too hard to disprove.

Do you see the same defensive strategy in Plato’s "Apology"?

I do. Socrates evades the charge that he did not respect the city’s gods, and proves instead that he is not an atheist. But he was not charged with atheism. We never learn what was meant by corrupting the young. The reader of Plato’s "Apology" comes away with  the impression that this wonderful old philosopher was condemned simply because he had spent his life exhorting his fellow citizens to be virtuous. 

How do you account for his condemnation?

I believe the case against Socrates was political and that the charge of corrupting the youth was based on a belief – and considerable evidence – that he was undermining their faith in Athenian democracy.

If so, why wasn’t the charge brought earlier? He had been teaching for a long time. A quarter century before the trial, Socrates had already been attacked in Aristophanes’s play "The Clouds" for running a "think thank" whose smart-alecky graduates beat their fathers. If they thought him the source of such subversive teaching, why did the Athenians wait until 399 B.C., when he was already an old man, before putting him on trial?

Because in 411 B.C. and again in 404 B.C. antidemocrats had staged bloody revolutions and established short-lived dictatorships. The Athenians were afraid this might happened again.

I haven’t found that in Plato.

Plato didn’t intend that you should. Those are the realities his "Apology" was calculated to hide. Plato was a genius, a dazzling prestidigitator, with all the gifts of a poet, a dramatist and a philosopher. His "Apology" is a masterpiece of world literature, a model of courtroom pleading; and the greatest single piece of Greek prose that has come down to us. It rises to a climax which never fails to touch one deeply, no matter how often it is reread. I read the "Apology" in the original for the first time last year, slowly and painfully, line by line. When I came to the noble farewell of Socrates to his judges, it gave me chest pains, it was so moving; I gladly offer up my angina in tribute to its mastery. "I go to die," Socrates says, "and you to live, but which of us goes to the better lot is known to none but God.’ Even Shakespeare never surpassed that! But these very qualities also make Plato’s "Apology" a masterpiece of evasion.

Is there any way to check Plato’s picture of the trial against the views of the average Athenian?

We do have one piece of evidence which shows that even 50 years after the event, when there had been ample time for reflection and remorse the Athenians still regarded the trial as political, and the verdict as justified.

Where did you find that?

In a speech by the famous orator Aeschines, the great rival of Demosthenes, in the year 345 B.C., just 54 years after the trial of Socrates. This bit is well known to scholars but its significance has never been fully appreciated. With the clue Aeschines provides, we may begin to reconstruct the Athenian political realities. Aeschines cited the case of Socrates as a praiseworthy precedent. "Men of Athens," he said to the jury court, "you executed Socrates, the sophist, because he was clearly responsible for the education of Critias, one of the thirty anti-democratic leaders." 

Who was Critias?

He was the bloodiest dictator Athens had ever known, a pupil of Socrates at one time, and a cousin of Plato’s. Aeschines was saying in effect that the antidemocratic teachings of Socrates helped to make a dictator of Critias, who terrorized Athens in 404 B.C. during the regime of the Thirty Tyrants and just five years before the trial of Socrates. Critias seemed to have been the most powerful member of the Thirty.

But why do you give so much weight to one sentence in one man’s speech to an Athenian jury court 50 years after the trial?

Aeschines could not have swayed the jury by that reference unless he was saying something about the relations between Socrates and Critias which was generally accepted as true by the Athenian public opinion of the time. Thought 50 years had passed, the dictatorship of Critias and the Thirty Tyrants must still have been a hateful memory. Justly or unjustly, Socrates’s reputation still suffered from his association with Critias. The reference to Critias and Socrates proved effective demagogy. Aeschines won his case.

How do you account for the deep and enduring prejudice against Socrates in his native city?

To understand this, one must touch on a damaging fact few historians have explained, or even mentioned, so great is the reverence for Socrates: Socrates remained in the city all through the dictatorship of the Thirty Tyrants.

Why do you put that in italics?

Because that single fact must have accounted more than any other for the prejudice against Socrates when the democracy was restored. The thirty Tyrants ruled only about eight months, but it was a time of terror. In that period they executed 1,500 Athenians and banished 5,000, one-tenth or more of the total population of men, women, children and slaves.

When the Thirty Tyrants took power, they murdered or drove out of the city all who were of the democratic party. A few months later, the moderates who had originally supported the Thirty Tyrants began to flee, especially after Critias murdered their leader, Theramenes. He, who had been one of the original Thirty Tyrants, was executed without a trial when he began to criticize the Thirty Tyrants for their brutality.

Socrates was neither exiled with the democrats nor forced to flee with the moderate oppositionists. He did not suffer at the hands of the thirty Tyrants unlike his chief accuser, Anytus, who lost much of his property when he fled and joined the fight to free the city. Socrates, in Plato’s "Apology," calls himself "the gadfly" of Athens, but it seems his sting was not much in evidence when Athens needed it most.

How does Plato handle this in the "Apology"?

He never mentions Critias, or his past as a pupil of Socrates, nor does he dwell on the fact that Socrates stayed in the city all through the dictatorship. Instead Plato has Socrates represent himself as a man above the battle of politics.

How does Plato do that?

He has Socrates tell of two incidents in which he defied unjust orders, once under the democracy, and again under the Thirty Tyrants. Under the democracy, he was presiding officer in the Assembly during the famous trial of ten generals accused of misconduct for failing to succor survivors and recover the bodies of the slain after a naval victory. Socrates said he blocked the attempt to condemn them in one proceeding, because the law called for a separate trial for each man. He added that he did so "although the orators were ready to impeach and arrest me."

Under the Thirty Tyrants, Socrates said, he had also resisted an unjust order. Socrates and four others had been ordered to arrest a wealthy resident alien whom the dictatorship wanted to kill so they could seize his property. Such executions for revenue purposes were common under Critias.

Instead of obeying the order, Socrates says, "I simply went home, and perhaps I should have been put to death for it, if the Government had not quickly been put down." But he himself neither helped put it down, nor tried to warn the victim, nor made a protest. Though he was always preaching virtue, he did not, like the Hebrew prophets, call such unvirtuous rulers publicly to account.

But few modern readers know enough to resist Plato’s beguiling narrative, and it serves to distract attention from the fact that nowhere in the ancient texts do we find Socrates resisting or deploring the overthrow of the democracy, nor welcoming its restoration. With the jury, this silence must have outweighed his eloquence. The dictatorship of the thirty Tyrants was the dictatorship of the wealthy landed aristocracy to which Plato and Critias belonged. This was the social circle from which most of Socrates’s followers were drawn. Athens understood this, though the modern reader often doesn’t.

Does Xenophon – our other "witness" on the trial – confront these compromising political circumstances?

Xenophon does so in is "Memorabilia" by quoting an unnamed "accuser." This accuser has been variously identified as one of the accusers at the trial or as a contemporary prodemocratic orator named Polycrates whose "pamphlet" on the trial of Socrates has since disappeared. In any case, Xenophon’s quotations from this accuser and his answer to these accusations provide us with some of the prosecution’s case against Socrates. In so doing, Xenophon discloses much that Plato hides.

Where do you find the political issue in Xenophon?

In his "memorabilia," Xenophon reports that "the accuser" said Socrates "taught his pupils to look down upon the established laws’ by deriding the egalitarian method of filling many minor offices in Athens by lot, and by teaching them that government should be left to experts instead of being determined by popular debate and vote in the assembly. 

The "accuser" said Socrates thus led the young "to despise the established constitution and made them violent." It is significant, but not often noticed, that Xenophon denies only the last part of this indictment. He could hardly deny the first two counts, since elsewhere in his memoirs of Socrates he frequently quotes the old philosopher’s contempt for the assembly and for election by lot. Xenophon passes over these accusations in silence. But he does deny that Socrates taught his pupils to use violence against established institutions. Xenophon insists he taught them it was wiser to proceed by persuasion.

But Critias in power was hardly a model of persuasion.

Xenophon does not deny it. After all, our main source of knowledge about the misdeeds of Critias is Xenophon’s own history of his time, the "Hellenica." Xenophon quotes the accuser as declaring that "none wrought so many evils" to the city of Athens as Critias and Alcibiades, the two most famous pupils of Socrates. The accuser said that in the terrible days of the Thirty Tyrants, Critias "bore the palm for greed and violence,’ while Alcibiades ‘exceeded all in licentiousness and insolence" under the democracy.

What defense did Xenophon offer?

"I have no intention," Xenophon replies in the "memorabilia," of excusing the wrong these two men wrought the state." But he claims they sought out Socrates as their teacher "only to attain the utmost proficiency in speech and action." And "as soon as they thought themselves superior to their fellow disciples, they sprang away from Socrates and took to politics." With that answer most Socratic scholars have been satisfied. 

But you are not?

No. The question left open is what kind of politics Socrates taught them. Clearly from everything we learn elsewhere in Plato and Xenophon, it was an antidemocratic politics. Xenophon’s silence on the point admits what he cannot deny.

Does the "accuser" in Xenophon link the Socratic teachings with aristocratic attempts at tyranny, as in 411 and 404 B.C.?

Yes, but in a curious, indirect way. He alleged "that Socrates, selecting the worst passages of the most celebrated poets, and using them as arguments, taught those who kept him company [i.e. his pupils], to be unprincipled and tyrannical." 

Just what exactly did those terms mean?

A tyrant was someone who used violent and lawless methods to seize and maintain power. The term "unprincipled" is one translation of the adjectival form of the Greek word kakourgos, which means, literally, an evil-doer. An Athenian would of course apply both terms to such men as Critias and the Thirty Tyrants. 

Does Xenophon deny that Socrates used quotations from the poets that might encourage such behavior?

He doesn’t enter an explicit denial. Instead Xenophon, who is ordinarily such a clear writer, gets fuzzy. This provoked my curiosity. In trying to find out why, I stumbled on some fresh material. I found that Xenophon made some striking omissions in discussing this accusation, and the omissions obscured its significance.

What were the omissions?

First of all, in giving us examples from the poets to show what the accuser meant, Xenophon limits himself to two poets. We know from another source, the "Apology" of Libanius, a fourth-century A.D. orator, that the "accuser" of Socrates cited four poets, not two, in this accusation. The two Xenophon omits are Theognis and Pindar. Both were aristocratic poets, notorious for their contempt, not only of the common people but of the new middle class of merchants and traders who had begun to rival the old landed aristocracy. Pindar wrote his lovely odes to celebrate some of the outstanding tyrants of his time. By omitting Theognis and Pindar, Xenophon was omitting the most obvious examples of what the accuser meant.

Who are the two poets Xenophon does quote?

Homer and Hesiod. But the quotations he gives seem to bear little, if any relationship to the charge.

What do the quotations say?

The one from Hesiod says, "Work is no disgrace, but idleness is a disgrace." Hesiod was a farmer poet, and this is from his "Works and Days," a kind of farmer’s almanac. That line is his expression of the work ethic. I will not bore you with my fruitless efforts to find any sense in which this trite but wholesome homily could possibly be interpreted as teaching tyrannical conduct. Hesiod was no aristocrat but a hard-working Boetian peasant who hated tyranny. I think the Hesiod quote has been screwed up for evasive purposes.

What of the quotation from Homer?

Here we come to pay dirt. At first, the quotation from Homer, as given by Xenophon in the "memorabilia," also seems to bear little relationship to the accusation. It long puzzled me. I went to the commentators on the "Memorabilia" without finding any enlightenment. Then I did what none of the commentators I read had done: I went back to Homer and took a look at the context of the quotation. There I found Xenophon had made two omissions, and suddenly I saw what the accuser was driving at. Here I believe I have found fresh insight.

Is this a "scoop" – if I may use so unscholarly a word?

I believe so. But to appreciate it, one must understand what Homer meant to the Greeks. He was their Bible. And with them as with us, the devil could quote Scripture to his purpose. A quotation from Homer was effective as Holy Writ, and the two omissions Xenophon makes are of two passages which would have infuriated an Athenian democrat, but would have delighted an anti-democratic aristocrat – because they would seem fully to justify violent methods in putting down the democracy.

Can you tell us what was the Homeric episode referred to by the "accuser" in Xenophon?

It is in the second book of the "Iliad." The siege of Troy has been going on for nine years. The homesick and weary troops, just recently devastated by a plague, make a mutinous rush for the ships, determined to set sail for home. Odysseus, the man of many wiles, intervenes to stem the panic. 

How does Xenophon handle the episode?

He makes his quotations so minimal and selective as to blur the point of the accusation, and make it easier for Socrates to evade it. Xenophon quotes lines 188 to 191, and then skips to lines 198 to 202 from Book II of the "Iliad."

In lines 188 to 191, Homer describes how Odysseus spoke "with gentle words" to the chieftains and aristocrats, while he tells us in lines 198 to 202 how differently he dealt with the common soldiers. When the angry hero encountered "a man of the people," Odysseus "struck him with his staff," calling him "a worthless fellow" and ordering him to turn back from the ships.

How would an Athenian react to this scene?

Very negatively. He was not used to being treated as an inferior either in peace or war. Xenophon’s account in the "Anabasis" of how he led his 10,000 mercenary Greek troops across Persia has been justly called a picture of "a democracy on the march."

Was anything important omitted in quoting these lines?

Yes. Xenophon omitted the last four lines of the speech made by Odysseus as he struck and reviled the common soldiers. In those four omitted lines Odysseus attacked the idea of democracy altogether. Homer in these lines sets forth for the first time in Western literature the doctrine of the divine right of kinds. Here are the lines, in literal translation. Odysseus tells the common soldiers:

We Achaeans can’t all be kings here 
It is not good for the many to rule. 
Let one man rule, one man be king, 
To whom the son [Zeus] of wily Cronos 
Has given the sceptre and the judgments 
That he may take counsel for you.
That’s the doctrine of one man rule, and that’s just what Critias tried to impose on Athens. Xenophon could have denied that Socrates used these lines, or approved them. Instead Xenophon omitted them. The omission is a confession. These famous lines on kingship were too obviously anti-democratic teaching.

What was the third of the significant omissions to which you referred?

Xenophon omitted any mention of the assembly called by King Agamemnon to deal with the near mutiny. Assemblies are frequent in the "Iliad." This one turned out to be unique. It was the only assembly in all of Homer where a common soldier spoke up in the debate. His name was Thersites, or The Brash One. To an Athenian, as to us, he thus represents the first stirrings of democracy in the Homeric assemblies. 

What happened to Thersites?

Odysseus beat the bold commoner until he bled, humiliated him in front of the army and threatened to kill him if he ever spoke up again.

How does Homer treat this scene?

With approval. Homer sang his great lays in the halls of the rich and powerful, and clearly shows whose side he is on. Homer does not make Thersites a hero, but a shrill and vulgar upstart. Few peoples have been as sensitive to beauty in form and in speech as the ancient Greeks. Homer paints Thersites as bandy-legged, lame, hunchbacked and bald. One wonders how such a cripple ever got into the army at all. The words Thersites uses are made as repulsive as his appearance. Homer calls them akosma. This is the negative of kosmos, whence our words "cosmetics" and "cosmos" derive. The word implies disorder and lack of grace. 

So what do you make of these omissions?

The accuser had charged that Socrates used certain passages from Homer to teach his young aristocratic followers to be violent and tyrannical. In dealing with this mutinous episode, Xenophon omitted what the Athenian democrats would have regarded as the most subversive part of it: the four lines on the divine right of kings, and Odysseus’s use of violence to suppress free speech in the assembly.

Homer was saying that the common people had no right to be heard. There could be no more sensitive point with the Athenian democrats. The right to speak freely in the assembly was the foundation stone of Athenian democracy. Until the reforms of Solon, two centuries before the trial of Socrates, the common people of Athens could neither speak nor vote in the assembly. And again, just five years before the trial of Socrates, they had been forcibly deprived of this precious right by the dictatorship of Critias. In their eyes, this episode in Homer would seem to justify the violent tyranny they had so recently overthrown. I think that is why Xenophon omitted it from his defense of Socrates. They were too damaging a part of the prosecution’s case.

So you think Socrates was condemned because the Athenians believed his teachings had helped to produce such tyrants as Critias?

No, not exactly. The case is more complicated. Socrates was protected from such a prosecution by the amnesty instituted by those who overthrew and killed Critias. The dictatorship was crushed by a coalition of the democrats with moderate oligarchs who had been driven into opposition by the lawless extremism of the thirty. They took an oath to forget past offenses. The amnesty covered everybody but the remaining Thirty and their leading officials. To prosecute Socrates as the teacher of Critias would have been a violation of that solemn oath.

How do you know the oath was always honored?

All the surviving sources attest to it, and nowhere do Plato or Xenophon charge, as they otherwise would, that the prosecution of Socrates was a violation of the amnesty. The most striking testimonial to this is in Aristotle’s treatise on the Constitution of Athens where he says that the Athenians, after restoring their democracy, "blotted out recriminations with regard to the past" and behaved both "privately and publicly toward those past disasters" in ‘the most completely honorable and statesmanlike manner of any people in history." That was written a generation after the trial of Socrates.

So what conclusion do you draw?

When Xenophon discusses the charge that Socrates used certain passage from Homer and other poets to teach his pupils to be lawbreakers and tyrannical, he had to be referring to teachings which continued after the restoration of the democracy. Athens felt that Socrates was still inculcating disrespect for its democratic institutions, and feared an attempt to overthrow the democracy again. 

Do you think this justified the condemnation of Socrates?

No. the 510-man jury itself was deeply troubled and reached its verdict of guilty only by a narrow margin. But these fresh insights give us a glimpse of the political realities and extenuating circumstances which Plato, who hated democracy, did his best to hide – and which his "Apology" has so successfully obscured for 2,500 years.   


Aeschines Against Timarchus 173 (Loeb Classical Library)

Did you put to death Socrates the sophist, fellow citizens, because he was shown to have been the teacher of Critias, one of the Thirty who put down the democracy, and after that, shall Demosthenes succeed in snatching companions of his own out of your hands, Demosthenes, who takes such vengeance on private citizens and friends of the people for their freedom of speech? 


Xenophon Memorabilia 1.2.9 (from Perseus Project)

But, said his accuser, he taught his companions to despise the established laws by insisting on the folly of appointing public officials by lot, when none would choose a pilot or builder or flautist by lot, nor any other craftsman for work in which mistakes are far less disastrous than mistakes in statecraft. Such sayings, he argued, led the young to despise the established constitution and made them violent. 


Xenophon, Mem.1.2.13.Now I have no intention of excusing the wrong these two men wrought the state; but I will explain how they came to be with Socrates. 


Xen., Mem, 1.2.56. Again, his accuser alleged that he selected from the most famous poets the most immoral passages, and used them as evidence in teaching his companions to be tyrants and malefactors: 


Thursday 25 September 2014

What is Code Pink..?

"Professor Foner, when did all this revisionism begin?" 

And Foner said, "Probably with Herodotus." 

And the Newsweek reporter said, "Do you have his phone number..?" 


Brian Lamb : "Why did you change your name from Susie Benjamin to Medea?


Medea Benjamin : "Oh, that was a long time ago, Brian. I was 18 years old, I went to college, I started reading the Greek myths and every month I would ask my friends to call me something different. My original name was Susan, I was the little Susie, there were always many Susies in the class. 

And I liked the name Medea. 

I read a version that said she never killed her children, but she was a powerful woman and that's why they blamed her for that. 

I thought, aha, I want to recover that name. 

And I just think it's a pretty name."


"...Herodotus reports another version, in which Medea and her son Medus fled from Athens on her flying chariot, to the Iranian plateau and lived among the Aryans, who then changed their name to the Medes."





Ms. Masooda Jalhal, former Afghan Minister of Women, to a Code Pink Delegation to Kabul : "It is good for Afghanistan to have more troops – more troops committed with the aim of building peace and against war, terrorism, and security – along with other resources. Coming together they will help with better reconstruction."

Medea Benjamin: "We [also] heard a lot of people [in Afghanistan] say they didn't want more troops to be sent in and they wanted the U.S. to have a responsible exit strategy that included the training of Afghan troops, included being part of promoting a real reconciliation process and included economic development; that the United States shouldn't be allowed to just walk away from the problem. So that's really our position."





WASHINGTON — Two men protesting U.S. support of the Nicaraguan rebels were arrested Thursday when they began shouting from the public gallery at the Iran- contra hearing and attempted to unfurl a banner.

The outburst occurred as Lt. Col. Oliver L. North was being questioned. Capitol police quickly seized the men, identified as Michael Spencer Kreis, 41, and Michael Evan Bardoff, 35, both of Baltimore, and escorted them from the Senate Caucus Room. They were charged with demonstrating inside a federal building and disrupting a congressional proceeding, both misdemeanors with maximum penalties of $500 fines and six months in jail.

The pair shouted: "What about the cocaine dealing that the U.S. is paying for?" and "Why don't you ask him how many non-combatants were killed?" Their banner read: "Ask About Cocaine Smuggling." This apparently referred to allegations that some contra leaders have been involved in drug smuggling, a topic that has not been addressed in North's interrogation.

Friends said the two are affiliated with a group called the Emergency Response Network. When the shouting started, North turned around in his chair. The hearing was suspended for about 10 minutes while the protesters were removed.


Foundation Cash Funds Antiwar Movement
By: Julia Duin 
Washington Times | Thursday, April 03, 2003



The American antiwar movement is decked out with all the elements of the counterculture, but it is getting some very establishment funding. 

In a few months, foundations and donors have kicked in millions of dollars to help antiwar groups stage demonstrations, take out expensive newspaper and TV ads, maintain Web sites, hire and pay staff, and lease office space in high-rent New York, Washington and San Francisco locales. 

Most work under the umbrella of sympathetic "fiscal sponsors," groups with tax-exempt status that have also lent out staff and office space. For instance, Code Pink Women for Peace, a feminist movement known for its pink clothing and awarding of "pink slips," or pink lingerie, to legislators they deem pro-war, operates under the aegis of Global Exchange, a San Francisco organization with a $4.2 million budget. 

Code Pink co-founder Medea Benjamin, a director for Global Exchange, says they are paying a bargain $400 a month for a cubicle office at 15th and H streets in the District. More space for Code Pink is on loan from two organizations down the hall, the National Organization for Women and the Institute for Policy Studies. 

Code Pink has raised $70,000 to $80,000 in its four-month existence, mostly through its www.codepinkalert.org site and sales of Code Pink buttons and T-shirts, "which we can't keep in stock," she adds. 


The Institute for Policy Studies, a left-wing think tank, has released a drumbeat of antiwar essays in recent months. The institute has a $2.2 million budget for 2003 provided by the Turner, Ford, MacArthur and Charles Stewart Mott foundations, among others. 

The brunt of the peace funding, says institute director John Cavannagh, is being done by smaller foundations able to quickly shift funds from other programs. 

"Individual peace groups have all gone out and raised funds," he says. "It's a lot of money, but I don't know how much. There's a pooling of resources between peace groups I've not seen before, which explains the large numbers of demonstrations and peace marches created." 

For instance, the institute's 2002 foreign policy budget of $400,000, which includes antiwar activism, received $50,000 from the HKH Foundation, $50,000 from the Arca Foundation, $20,000 from the Samuel Rubin Foundation, $15,000 from the Solidago Foundation and $50,000 from the MacArthur Foundation.


Medea (about to murder her children) by Eugène Ferdinand Victor Delacroix (1862)


I quote The Enemy:

"In Corinth, Jason abandoned Medea for the king's daughter, Glauce. Medea took her revenge by sending Glauce a dress and golden coronet, covered in poison. This resulted in the deaths of both the princess and the king, Creon, when he went to save her. 

It is said that her two sons Mermeros and Pheres helped their mother's revenge and were murdered by Corinthians for their crime. According to the tragic poet Euripides, Medea continued her revenge, murdering her two children Tisander and Alcimenes. Only one son Thessalus survived. Afterward, she left Corinth and flew to Athens in a golden chariot driven by dragons sent by her grandfather Helios, god of the sun.

Before the fifth century BC, there seem to have been two variants of the myth's conclusion. According to the poet Eumelus to whom the fragmentary epic Korinthiaka is usually attributed, Medea killed her children by accident.

The poet Creophylus, however, blamed their murders on the citizens of Corinth.

Medea's deliberate murder of her children, then, appears to be Euripides' invention although some scholars believe Neophron created this alternate tradition.

Her filicide would go on to become the standard for later writers.

Pausanias, writing in the late 2nd century, records five different versions of what happened to Medea's children after reporting that he has seen a monument for them while traveling in Corinth.

Fleeing from Jason, Medea made her way to Thebes where she healed Heracles (the former Argonaut) from the curse of Hera (that leads to the murder of Iphitus his best friend). In return, Heracles gave her a place to stay in Thebes until the Thebans drove her out in anger, despite Heracles' protests.

She then fled to Athens where she met and married Aegeus. They had one son, Medus, although Hesiod makes Medus the son of Jason.

Her domestic bliss was once again shattered by the arrival of Aegeus' long-lost son, Theseus. Determined to preserve her own son's inheritance, Medea convinced her husband that Theseus was a threat and that he should be disposed of. As Medea handed Theseus a cup of poison, Aegeus recognized the young man's sword as his own, which he had left behind many years previous for his newborn son, to be given to him when he came of age. Knocking the cup from Medea's hand, Aegeus embraced Theseus as his own.

Medea then returned to Colchis and, finding that Aeëtes had been deposed by his brother Perses, promptly killed her uncle, and restored the kingdom to her father. 

Herodotus reports another version, in which Medea and her son Medus fled from Athens on her flying chariot, to the Iranian plateau and lived among the Aryans, who then changed their name to the Medes.


David Blight:

And I want to quote for you, to you, from the oldest history book in Western civilization. Not just because it's a book, but I think this is a point one can make about any history course, it doesn't matter what the subject is. It can be Social History, Political History, Intellectual History, any history. It can be the History of Ancient Rome, it could be Post-1945 United States, it could be any history. But any history course ought to do the two things that Herodotus named in the opening sentence of the oldest history book we have. 

This is Herodotus, The History. 

Isn't it great when you're writing the first book, what are you going to call it? The History; no subtitles, nothing fancy, just — "I, Herodotus of Halicarnassus, am here setting forth my history, that time may not draw the color from what man has brought into being, nor those great and wonderful deeds manifested by both the Greeks and the barbarians, fail of their report, and together, with all of this, the reason why they fought one another."

I don't know how closely you listened to that, but what has Herodotus just said? 

He's basically said history is two things. It's the story, it's the color, it's the great deeds, it's the narrative that takes you somewhere; but it's also the reason why, it's also the explanations. 

That's what history does. It's supposed to do both of those things. Some of us are more into the analysis, and we're not so fond of story. Some of us just love stories and don't care about the analysis — "oh, stop giving me all that interpretation, just tell me the good story again." 

This is what goes on, of course, out in public history all the time: "just tell us the old stories and just sing us the old songs, make us feel good again. Stop interpreting, you historians, and worst of all, stop revising." 

You notice how that word 'revision' has crept into our political culture? When politicians don't like the arguments of people who disagree with them they accuse them of being revisionist historians. It was even a poll-tested word for a while when Condoleezza Rice was using it. "Revisionist, revisionist." 

As though all history isn't revisionist.

My favorite story about revisionism is my buddy, Eric Foner, was on a talk show once. About 1992. He was on one of those shouting talk shows with Lynne Cheney, who at that — Dick Cheney's wife — who was then head of the NEH. And this was a time — you won't remember this — we were having this national brouhaha over what were called National History Standards. 

And Lynne Cheney, if you remember, a real critic of these National History Standards. She didn't particularly like some of the ideas that the historians were coming up with. So on this talk show — it was Firing Line, where you get two people on and they just shout at each other for an hour, or a half hour, and the producers love it. And Foner is pretty good at rapid fire coming back, he's pretty good at it. 

Anyway they had this set-to and she kept accusing him and other historians of being "revisionist." And Eric says the next morning he got a phone call from a reporter at Newsweek and she said, "Professor Foner, when did all this revisionism begin?" 

And Foner said, "Probably with Herodotus." 

And the Newsweek reporter said, "Do you have his phone number?" 

Never underestimate the ignorance — H.L. Mencken said this, I didn't — never underestimate the ignorance of the American people. Or of journalists, or of — .