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Posts Tagged ‘agora’

Reflections: Response to “El Tiempo” columns 7: Comentario a Francisco Cajiao: “Educar para la Política”, febrero 17 de 2009.

Debo decir que es casi siempre un verdadero placer leer sus columnas. Su profundo conocimiento de las dinámicas educativas de Colombia es admirable.

Ahora bien, considero que en su columna sobre educación para la política hay varios elementos de gran importancia. Ante las actuales dificultades políticas que vive nuestro país —y las conectadas dificultades éticas y educativas—— usted invita al lector, en parte, a hacer un recorrido histórico hacia los griegos. En este sentido usted, muy prudente y acertadamente, indica que hay al menos dos elementos a considerar. Citándolo directamente dice usted:  1. “La política es el comportamiento fundamental del ciudadano. Política viene de polis (ciudad). Por eso, cuando se habla de competencias ciudadanas es necesario entender que ellas deben conducir a la formación política. …. el ciudadano debe aprender desde su infancia a discriminar lo que conviene para el bien común, de acuerdo con un orden ético y jurídico.”,  y 2. “Siempre, desde la antigua Grecia, se consideró la educación como el medio privilegiado para fortalecer la democracia, formando ciudadanos libres, capaces de discutir sus diferencias y propuestas mediante el ejercicio de la razón. Por esto, el ágora es el espacio privilegiado de la política.”

Al primer elemento le podemos dar el nombre famoso de republicanismo clásico en la medida en que el ser humano según Aristóteles es por naturaleza un ser político. El segundo elemento que usted enfatiza acertadamente es lo que podríamos llamar la importancia de una educación liberal para los griegos. Lo cierto es que en su conjunto estos dos elementos indican una parte de las bases fundamentales de la reflexión filosófica sobre la política que encontramos principalmente en la obra de Aristóteles, que a su vez está respondiendo de manera directa, y también indirecta, a las reflexiones políticas y filosóficas por parte de Platón y su maestro Sócrates. Pero como veremos, estos dos elementos no subsisten de manera tan armónica como podríamos pensar, y sobretodo como podríamos desear, en tanto modernos. Es decir, en tanto modernos nos parecería obvio que, si  logramos dar con el adecuado tipo de educación política, entonces lograríamos llevar o transferir a la realidad esas conclusiones, los resultados de dicha investigación, como base de un proyecto político definitivo de fundamentos universales y generalizables. De esta manera, entonces la práctica y la teoría se retroalimentarían de manera beneficiosa para ambas de tal manera que la justicia se encarnaría como nunca antes. Algo así sí creyó posible todo movimiento marxista/socialista/comunista (y más aún el leninista/stalinista que es modelo aún para las afiebradas FARC) con su consigna de transformación total de la realidad tal y como aparece formulada de manera dramática en las breves y famosas Tesis sobre Feuerbach del propio Marx: (“Tesis 11: Philosophers have hitherto only interpreted the world in various ways; the point is to change it”.)

Pero me temo que semejante proyecto que cree que la educación política puede adquirir real vida y guiar decididamente “desde arriba” (e incluso militarmente) el quehacer político contrasta radicalmente con el verdadero realismo filosófico-político de los grandes pensadores políticos griegos Platón, Jenofonte y Aristóteles (posteriormente complementados por la obra de Cicerón para los romanos). No puedo entrar en detalle aquí, pero por ejemplo, el ejercicio dialógico que presenta La República de Platón, cuyo tema es la pregunta de su interés, es decir, la pregunta por la virtud de la justicia (virtud fundacional de lo político en tanto que nos remite al “bien común”),  invita no a que fundemos una ciudad realmente gobernada por aquellos filósofos políticos o líderes que supuestamente sí han logrado ver el verdadero esquema educativo a seguir, sino todo lo contrario, invita a ver en cierta medida el por qué de las limitaciones profundas y serias de creer que la teoría puede llegar a tener semejantes efectos sobre la realidad política de cualquier ciudad o de cualquier comunidad política. Es más, al comienzo del drama que es este diálogo fundacional entre Sócrates y dos interesantes jóvenes (Glaucón y Adimanto) con intereses políticos diversos, Sócrates mismo es forzado a permanecer en la discusión contra su propia voluntad. Posteriormente en el diálogo Las Leyes Platón retoma de nuevo las intrínsecas limitaciones de lo político comenzando esta vez su investigación desde el lenguaje propio  de lo político. Por ejemplo, los interlocutores son ahora hombres mucho mayores, ya no de Atenas sino de una ciudad extranjera debido a la peligrosa complejidad de las preguntas propuestas, hombres de la “tercera edad” que además deben beber un poco de licor (!) para poder incluso dar arranque al diálogo mismo acerca del complejo rol de las leyes y de lo divino en la fundación de una comunidad política.

Pero incluso, bajo cierta interpretación, también los últimos dos libros de la Política de Aristóteles revelan una posición similar; no hay allí un modelo que podamos simplemente copiar e instaurar en la realidad. Por el contrario, revela esta obra de manera magistral un cierto dualismo claramente jerarquizado indicando, a la vez, tanto la importancia del ámbito político como igualmente las limitaciones inherentes a dicho ámbito humano, limitaciones que sólo se vislumbran desde  la filosofía política  misma. Y una concepción similar ocurre en La República de Cicerón. Además, siglos después, Santo Tomás Moro siguiendo el mismo modelo escribió su Utopía que de nuevo es un ejercicio para percibir los límites de lo político desde el lenguaje de la filosofía política, no un manual de cómo llevar a cabo transformaciones definitivas en la “realidad”.

Esto es lo que se conoce, en el lenguaje de una corriente interpretativa que toma como base la obra de Leo Strauss, como el debate entre el “utopianismo clásico” que se enfrenta decididamente al “idealismo moderno”. Se resume dicho debate, y disculpe que no lo traduzca, de esta manera:

“classical political philosophy  conceives the “best regime” not as an ideal to be realized, nor even something to be approached and worked toward; the elaboration of the best regime is intended, rather, as a subtly playful thought-experiment meant to reveal the limitations of what we can expect from all actual political philosophy” (Pangle, Thomas, Leo Strauss: An  Introduction to his Thought and Intellectual Legacy, p. 46)

Es decir, sea lo que sea que aprendamos de los filósofos políticos griegos, resultará nocivo el no intentar ver sus escritos en sus propios términos. Es más, el pensamiento político clásico es la vacuna precisamente contra el  complejo deseo, por parte de cierto tipo de seres humanos,  de instauración de la justicia total y verdadera en el ámbito real de la política ciudadana. El siglo XX nos dio múltiples ejemplos de los desastres al intentar llevar a cabo cierto tipo de proyecto secular radical a como de lugar (Stalin, Mao, Khmer Rouge,  …. FARC). El periódo del terror bajo Robespierre que se desprende de la Revolución  Francesa de 1789 nos lo revela igualmente. Es decir, el deseo de encarnar un proyecto totalizante de justicia terrenal (piénsese en el resultado de “aplicar” el “Libro Rojo” de Mao para los ciudadanos chinos) , y un cierto deseo inmoderado, violento y hasta tiránico, parecen estar conectados de maneras que el racionalismo político griego nos permite entender mejor. Para estos últimos no puede haber una reconciliación final entre filosofía y política; es más, es gracias a esta fructífera tensión inevitable que garantizamos tanto cierta moderación real en la praxis política, como la creación de unos líderes/ciudadanos hasta cierto punto libres de falsas expectativas y deseos destructivos con respecto a un cierto ordenamiento legal que ellos encarnan y del cual descienden. Como usted lo pone: “el ciudadano debe aprender desde su infancia a discriminar lo que conviene para el bien común, de acuerdo con un orden ético y jurídico.” Pero además esta valiosa tensión “garantiza” la aparición en escena de aquellos individuos filosóficamente preparados en la tradición clásica que puedan generar interpretativamente dos proyectos diferentes, a saber,  la más profunda explicitación de las bases que fundamentan un proyecto político dado (piénsese por ejemplo en el valor que los straussianos le dan a los “Founding Fathers” de los Estados Unidos),  explicitación que a la vez  les permite de esta manera poder juzgar sana y prudencialmente —– al igual que criticar seriamente—— los progresos y/o retrocesos del ordenamiento mismo desde su fundación.  Un ejemplo de dicha postura dual sería el entrar a considerar críticamente la Constitución del 91 más allá de una simple defensa progresista. (more…)

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Reflections: Socrates and Xenophon, the philosophic and the political life

At the very least, this is clear. The most fundamental difference between Socrates and Xenophon might be dangerously summarized by saying that Socrates, who rarely felt the need to physically leave Athens, never wished to rule over anyone under any circumstances, while Xenophon —–his questioning and nowadays seldom read student—– did in fact wish to rule over many under varying circumstances (see Buzzetti).

Or, to put it much more nobly and perhaps more truthfully: it would be best to say that the once unknown and adventure-loving Xenophon —–who had come into direct contact with Socrates—– suddenly came to recognize far outside the boundaries of his native Athens not only the unavoidability of ruling among humans, but also and perhaps much more importantly, his absolutely unique capacity for such ruling when true crisis touched upon his life and those surrounding him. However, later in life he seems to have given up this politically engaged desire for the desire to recollect in writing both tension-ridden forms of life: on the one hand recovering the life of Socrates in his Memorabilia and the other  truly amazing shorter Socratic texts, and on the other hand recovering the circumstances of his rise to fame and glory as a commander in his autobiographical The Anabasis of Cyrus. In contrast, Socrates also never felt the desire to write, not of himself or others.

Agoristic philosophy ——as the foundation of political philosophy—– begins in wonder (thaumazein) at such striking complex connections and deep tensions between the life of politics and the life of philosophy. Its path is that of an understanding of the dynamics of virtue(s); its guide remains Aristotle.


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Appendixes

Xenophon only appears in direct conversation with Socrates in two short sections, one in his Memorabilia where he listens to Socrates’ views on kissing(!), the other in his The Anabasis of Cyrus where he recalls the conversation with Socrates with which he began his voyage. These astonishing sections read as follows:

Appendix 1: (Memorabilia I, 4; Bonnette translation)

“These were the sort of things he used to say with playfulness accompanied by seriousness.  On the other hand, he advised that one steadfastly refrain from sex with those who are beautiful. For he said that it is not easy when one touches these sorts to be moderate. In fact, after he perceived once that Critobulus the son of Crito had kissed the beautiful son of Alcibiades, he asked Xenophon in Critobulus’ presence”

“Tell me, Xenophon,” he said, “ didn’t you hold Critobulus to be one of the moderate rather than the rash human beings, and one of these with forethought rather than senseless and reckless?”

“Certainly,” said Xenophon.

“Well, hold now that he is hotheaded and heedless in the extreme. He would even make somersaults into daggers and leap into fire.”

“And what did you see him doing,” said Xenophon, “that you have formed such judgments about him?”

“Did he not dare to kiss the son of Alcibiades, who is most fair and in his bloom?” he said.

“But if that is the reckless deed,” said Xenophon,”in my opinion, I, too, would endure this risk.”

“You wretch!” said Socrates. “And what do you think you would suffer after kissing  someone so beautiful? Would you not immediately be a slave rather than free, spend a lot of harmful pleasures, be in great want of leisure for attending to anything noble and good, and be compelled to take seriously what even madman would not take seriously?”

“Heracles!” said Xenophon. “What terrible power you ascribe to a kiss.”

“And do you wonder at this?” said Socrates. “Don’t you know that poisonous spiders not even half an obol in size crush human beings with pain and drive them from their senses  merely by touching them in their mouths?”

“Yes, by Zeus!” said Xenophon, “For spiders inject something through their sting.”

“You fool!” said Socrates. “Do you think that when those who are beautiful kiss they don’t inject anything, just because you don’t see it? Don’t you know that this beast that they call beautiful in bloom is so much more terrible than spiders that, while spiders inject  something when they touch, it (even when it does not touch, but if one just looks at it) injects even from quite far away something of the sort to drive one mad? And perhaps ‘lovers’ are called ‘archers’ because those who are beautiful inflict wounds even from afar. But I counsel you, Xenophon, whenever you see someone beautiful, to flee without looking back .”

Appendix 2: (The Anabasis of Cyrus III, 1, 4; Ambler translation )

“In the army there was a certain Xenophon, an Athenian, who followed along even though he was neither a general nor a captain nor a soldier; but Proxenus, a guest-friend of his from long ago, had sent for him to come home. He promised that if he came, he would make him a friend of Cyrus, whom Proxenus himself had said he believed to be the better for himself than his fatherland was. So Xenophon, on reading his letter, took common counsel with Socrates the Athenian about the journey. And Socrates, suspecting that becoming a friend of Cyrus might bring an accusation from the city, because Cyrus had seemed eager in joining the Lacedaemonians in making war against the Athenians, advised Xenophon to go to Delphi and take common counsel with the god about the journey. Xenophon went and asked Apollo to which one of the gods he should sacrifice and pray in order to make the journey he had in mind in the noblest and best way and, after faring well, to return safely. And Apollo indicated to him the gods to whom he needed to sacrifice.

When he came back again, he told the oracular response to Socrates. On hearing it, Socrates blamed him because  he did not first ask whether it was more advisable for him  to make the journey or to remain, but he himself had judged that he was to go and then inquired how he might go in the noblest way. “However, since you did ask it in this way,” he said, “you must do all that the god bade.”

So after sacrificing to the ones the god had indicated, Xenophon sailed off.”

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Almost everyone knows Socrates did not write anything. But knowing this fact makes it even more difficult to be surprised by it, and much less to seek, however partially, to understand its implications for us. For what does not surprise, rarely forces us to open ourselves to its unexpected appearance. This is primarily so in our culture where writing has become the hallmark of recognition. To be illiterate —— a form of quantifiable statistics of crucial importance in measuring the educational state of a nation———– is defined as being unable to read and write. Take for instance the shame of those who do not learn to write, it is so overwhelming that they prefer to live secluded lives. Take as well the assumed superiority of our culture to that of oral traditions (Rousseau saw this early on in his precious Essay on the Origin of Language).

In a similar vein, it is particularly in academia —–specially but not exclusively in the Humanities—- that the requirement to publish is not only the hallmark of assured creativity and proof of continued reflection, but also the avenue for institutional success. To rise academically one must publish. Nothing seems more obvious and normal to us than this. I remember once a professor speaking mockingly of some PhD candidates who had not published anything yet. Although I was rather young, I still remember even then being a bit surprised by the whole thing.

This is why I think Socrates’ decision not to write might be considered, at the very least, as a necessary corrective and counter-balancing presence. Does this mean we can do without publishing? Of course not, it just simply means that we might look at what Socrates did. That is all, or mostly all. And this is why for those of us who see in Socrates the model of the philosophic life, it makes sense to ask: Why would Socrates not write anything? Would he not be seriously considered as an odd figure among us because of this, exactly as he was seen in his very own time? (See Alcibiades’ description in the Symposium.) Socrates seems to remain a stinging ray! And moreover, and please bear with me, did Plato and Xenophon not commit a terrible injustice to Socrates in writing about him? But then again, who would have Socrates written about if HE was the one worth recording? For surely the whole thing was not simply because Socrates did not have the time to write; he himself confesses he only dedicated himself to oral dialectics, so he could have found the time! He chose not to do so, in contradistinction to our contemporaries who choose to do so. And of course, if Plato and Xenophon did commit an injustice, we are thankful for it, and understand that some such injustices must be pardoned for our very own sake and well-being. To this idea we shall return.

Why then would Socrates proceed in this strange way? The single most important aspect of Socrates’ refusal to write is his constant reminder that philosophy is primarily a way of life. A way of life can be written about, but the person living it, well, she just lives it! Socrates at one point in Xenophon’s writing, simply dances alone. The only exception would be if such a person decided to write his own autobiography; and Socrates, contrary to, for instance Churchill, chose not to. Our modern way of philosophizing, in contrast, sees writing as precisely THE way of life for the humanist; writing is of the essence. Of course, we teach courses, but once again the courses are primarily on written material themselves. In this respect, it is clear that what Plato and Xenophon and Aristophanes saw in the Socratic experience was fundamentally an ergon (that is, an activity; deeds or action) AND a logos (a discursive account carried out in dialogue with other diverse interlocutors). (more…)

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For those of us who find the life of Socrates to be a truly philosophical life, perhaps THE model of the philosophical life, some aspects of his two Apologies (for I take Xenophon’s Apology as seriously as Plato’s) truly stand out.

First, these apologies are intended as a defense, a juridical defense of a way of life which physically endangers he who holds fast to its foundations. If this is so, then the first striking aspect of Socratism nowadays lies in that it is very rare to have an academic philosopher actually have to engage in such a public defense. This is odd and puzzling. Perhaps it is because philosophy has opened a space for itself among our democratic societies. But most likely, in doing so, philosophy has lost its most original and powerful reality. To put it boldly, one could even say that philosophy has actually retreated although it thinks itself to be at the very forefront.

Second, the Apologies show something that is altogether striking. Socrates’ audience, once he begins his voyage towards learning of his own wisdom which lies in knowing that he does not know, is not an academic audience. My life within academic circles has allowed me to see argumentation amongst academicians many a time. But herein lies what is striking, Socrates sought in the Apology as his interlocutors others, namely, artisans, poets, and politicians. It is these who find themselves angered by Socrates’ words and actions. It is they who take him to court. In this respect one could say that Socratic philosophy is essentially agoristic, it has its place primarily in the agora, the public space par excellence. Nowadays academic philosophy has lost sight of this and therefore has lost sight of the political foundations of Socrates’ life (Heidegger specially so). In this respect, if one has worked outside academia, it is not surprising to find the very real anger by many towards the “uselessness” of the philosophical life. Little in academic circles prepares one for such anger. Much can and has to be done to redress this.

It is little wonder that in classical political philosophy the civic virtue of courage is mentioned repeatedly. It is mentioned in order to moderate it via the courage of reflection. Little is heard of such topics today; for instance, Aristotle’s books on the virtues within both of his Ethics are quickly passed over as irrelevant to our condition. This amounts to a kind of unreflective surrender. In this same vein, little is said about rhetoric itself, the public political art par excellence. As a matter of fact, this is precisely why Xenophon is no longer taken seriously in academic circles themselves! (How many philosophers actually are such that excellent generals write about them?)

Agoristic philosophy is the foundation of Socratic political philosophy. Actually, agoristic philosophy is the foundation of all serious philosophy (both beyond the seriousness of the spoudaios and the seriousness of the modern intellectual.)

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