Leo Strauss in Northeast Asia [1° ed.] 0367210975, 9780367210977

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Leo Strauss in Northeast Asia

This book analyzes the reception of Leo Strauss and his political philosophy in Northeast Asia. By juxtaposing the central idea of Strauss’s political philosophy with the question of modernity, the contributors explore the eclectic adaptations of Strauss in Northeast Asian countries as a philosophical appropriation across cultures. Examining how Strauss’s philosophy was first introduced in Northeast Asia, the book sheds light on the similarities and differences in experiences, challenging the dominant approach which attributes various receptions of Strauss in Northeast Asia solely to sociopolitical circumstances. This book also seeks to move beyond a China-centric approach to investigate the possible transcultural appeals of Strauss’s political philosophy by exploring the cases of Japan and South Korea. Appealing to a wide network of scholars and practitioners in East Asia engaged in rethinking cultural particularities, this volume will be attractive to upper-level undergraduate students, graduate students, and advanced researchers in political philosophy, political theory, and Asian politics. Jun-Hyeok Kwak is Professor of the Department of Philosophy (Zhuhai) at Sun Yat-sen University, China. His publications include Republicanism in Northeast Asian Context (Routledge, 2017) and Patriotism in East Asia (Routledge, 2017). Sungwoo Park is Professor of Political Science and International Relations at Seoul National University, Korea. His research interests include classical political thought, history of political thought, and international political thought.

Political Theories in East Asian Context Series Editor: Jun-Hyeok Kwak

Political Theories in East Asian Context aims to shed light on the essential theoretical issues spanning East Asia by situating them within cross-cultural frameworks that attend both to the particularity of East Asia as well as the potentially universal patterns arising from East Asia’s current issues that can be studied for the global prosperity. It reconsiders issues like historical reconciliation, nationalism, multicultural coexistence, political leadership, republicanism, and regional integration, with a view to opening the discourse of particular issues to a wider theoretical horizon. Including intellectuals in the field of political science, history, ethnic studies, sociology, and regional studies, this interdisciplinary endeavour is a deliberative forum in which we can reflect on ethical problems facing East Asia in the global era. 1  Inherited Responsibility and Historical Reconciliation in East Asia Edited by Jun-Hyeok Kwak and Melissa Nobles 2  Patriotism in East Asia Edited by Jun-Hyeok Kwak and Koichiro Matsuda 3  Worlding Multiculturalisms The Politics of Inter-Asian Dwelling Edited by Daniel P. S. Goh 4  Republicanism in Northeast Asia Edited by Jun-Hyeok Kwak and Leigh Jenco 5  Religion and Nationalism in Asia Edited by Giorgio Shani and Takashi Kibe 6  Leo Strauss in Northeast Asia Edited by Jun-Hyeok Kwak and Sungwoo Park

Leo Strauss in Northeast Asia

Edited by Jun-Hyeok Kwak and Sungwoo Park

First published 2020 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2020 selection and editorial matter, Jun-Hyeok Kwak and Sungwoo Park; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Jun-Hyeok Kwak and Sungwoo Park to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Kwak, Chun-hyŏk, editor. Title: Leo Strauss in Northeast Asia / edited by Jun-Hyeok Kwak and Sungwoo Park. Description: New York : Routledge, 2019. | Series: Political theories in East Asian context | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2019031764 (print) | LCCN 2019031765 (ebook) | ISBN 9780367210977 (hardback) | ISBN 9780429265358 (ebook) | ISBN 9780429555909 (ebook) | ISBN 9780429564840 (mobi) | ISBN 9780429560378 (epub) Subjects: LCSH: Strauss, Leo–Influence. | Political science–Asia–Philosophy. Classification: LCC B945.S84 L448 2019 (print) | LCC B945.S84 (ebook) | DDC 320.092–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019031764 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019031765 ISBN: 978-0-367-21097-7 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-26535-8 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by Wearset Ltd, Boldon, Tyne and Wear

To the memory of Shozo Iijima

Contents



Notes on contributorsix Acknowledgmentsxii

PART I

General overview

1

  1 Introduction: the reception of Leo Strauss in Northeast Asia

3

JUN-HYEOK KWAK

PART II

Leo Strauss across culture

13

  2 Leo Strauss and the problems of political philosophy: a brief survey

15

NATHAN TARCOV

  3 Leo Strauss and the East–West dialogue

40

HAIG PATAPAN

PART III

The places of Leo Strauss in Northeast Asia

53

  4 Studies on Leo Strauss in Japanese academia

55

SHOZO IIJIMA

  5 Beyond left and right: Leo Strauss in China MINGKUN LI

81

viii  Contents   6 A review of Korean studies on Leo Strauss

97

YONG-MIN KIM

  7 Leo Strauss and ancient Chinese wisdom: an encounter not yet actuated

109

SHIQI TANG

PART IV

Leo Strauss and Northeast Asia

131

  8 Leo Strauss, China, and political utopianism

133

JIANHONG CHEN

  9 Leo Strauss’s interpretation of the Republic reconsidered: limits of politics in South Korea

148

SUNGWOO PARK

10 Civilization, morality, and pluralism: a Straussian perspective on Japanese modernity

164

TAKASHI KIBE

11 Reading Leo Strauss in postmodern East Asia: to confront contemporary tyranny

180

YOSHIHIKO ISHIZAKI



Index200

Contributors

Jianhong Chen received his Ph.D. in philosophy from the Catholic University of Leuven, Belgium, in 2006. He taught philosophy at Nankai University, Tianjin, China, from 2006 to 2015, and currently is Professor and Dean of the Department of Philosophy (Zhuhai Campus) of Sun Yat-sen University, China. He has published widely on topics in political philosophy and religious studies, with a particular focus on Leo Strauss, both in English and Chinese. Takashi Kibe is Professor of Political Science at International Christian University. He has a doctor’s degree from the University of Tübingen. His research interests are egalitarianism, multiculturalism, citizenship, liberalism, philosophy of social sciences, and history of political thought, especially early modern political theory. He is the author of Frieden und Erziehung in Martin Luthers Drei-Stände-Lehre (Peter Lang 1996). His recent publications include “Differentiated Citizenship and Ethnocultural Groups: A Japanese Case,” ­Citizenship Studies (2006) and “The Relational Approach to ­Egalitarian Justice: A Critique of Luck Egalitarianism,” Critical Review of International Social and Political Philosophy (2011). Yong-Min Kim is Professor of Political Science at Hankuk Univerisity of Foreign Studies and have served as Dean of Social Sciences. He teaches ancient, modern, and contemporary history of political philosophy. He received his Ph.D. from The University of Chicago in 1993. He was a visiting scholar at University of British Columbia in 2002, and at The University of Chicago in 2010. He published Rousseau’s Political Philosophy ((­Ingansarang 2004), and co-authored such books as History of Modern Political Thought (Bookworld 2007) and History of Ancient and Medieval Political Philosophy (Bookworld 2011). His publication in English includes “A Study on the Acceptance of Rousseau’s Thought and Current Research in Korea,” in Contemporary Korean Political Thought (Lexington Books 2014). Recently, he published Cicero’s Philosophy For Justice and Happiness (­Hanulbooks 2018). Jun-Hyeok Kwak is 100 Talented Professor of Philosophy (Zhuhai) at Sun Yatsen University in China. He received his Ph.D from The University of C ­ hicago

x  Contributors in 2002. Before joining Sun Yat-sen University in 2016, he taught at various universities including Korea University. His research interests lie at the crossroads of political philosophy from Socrates to Machiavelli and in contemporary sociopolitical theories. He has published numerous articles on Machiavelli, republicanism, patriotism, and global justice in various languages, including: “Republican Liberation and the March First Movement” (Korea Observer 2019) and “Republican Patriotism and Machiavelli’s Patriotism” (Australian Journal of Political Science 2017). He is currently serving as the General Editor of the Routledge Series, Political Theories in East Asian Context. Shozo Iijima was Professor of Political Science at the Faculty of Political Science and Economics, Waseda University, Tokyo, where he served as the Senior Dean from 2006 to 2010. He received his Ph.D in political science from The University of Chicago. He has published numerous articles on the history of political philosophy and contemporary political theory. He was the author of Supinoza no seijitetsugaku (The Political Philosophy of Spinoza, 1997) and Shakaikeiyaku (The Social Contract, 2001). He co-translated works of Leo Strauss, including The Political Philosophy of Hobbes, Thoughts on Machiavelli and What is Political Philosophy? And Other Studies. Yoshihiko Ishizaki is Professor Emeritus of Philosophy at Setsunan University and Professor of Political Science and Political Philosophy at Yamato University and Editor-in-Chief of Seijitetsugaku. He is the author of “Rinrigaku tosite no Seijitetsugaku (Political Philosophy as Ethics),” “Posutomodan no Ningen-ron (Humanism in the Postmodern Era),” “Seijitetsugaku to Taiwa no Benshouho (Political Philosophy and the Dialogical Dialectics—Hegel and Leo Strauss,” and the Japanese translator of Leo Strauss’s Books: Natural Right and History, The City and Man, What is Political Philosophy?, etc. Mingkun Li is Assistant Professor in the School of Marxism at the East China University of Political Science and Law (Shanghai). He received his Ph.D. degree from the Chinese University of Hong Kong with a study on Leo Strauss, and has published several papers on Leo Strauss and modern political philosophy. Sungwoo Park is Professor of Political Science and International Relations at Seoul National University. He received his Ph.D. in Political Science from The University of Chicago. His research interest is in the history of political thought and international political thought. Recently he has attempted to reinterpret classical political thought, including that of Plato, Aristotle, and Thucydides, in the light of international political thought. Haig Patapan is Director of the Centre for Governance and Public Policy, ­Griffith University, Australia. His research interests are in political philosophy, political leadership, and comparative constitutionalism. In his recent work Professor Patapan examines the nature of leadership and judgment in democracies, a theme he has explored in the co-authored book The ­Democratic

Contributors  xi Leader (Oxford University Press 2012) as well as the co-edited collections Dispersed Democratic Leadership (Oxford University Press 2009) and Good Democratic Leadership (Oxford University Press 2014). Shiqi Tang is Professor and Dean of the School of International Studies, Peking University, China. His main research areas are political philosophy, comparative politics, and comparative political thought. His publications include Relations between State and Society (Peking University Press 1998), A History of Western Political Thought (Peking University Press, 1st edition 2002, second edition 2008) and Globalization and Territoriality (Peking University Press 2008). His recent studies are focused on the comparison between Chinese and Western political philosophies. Nathan Tarcov is Karl J. Weintraub Professor of Political Science and Social Thought at The University of Chicago. He has been recognized for excellence in undergraduate teaching, receiving the University’s Quantrell Award in 1997. His scholarly interests include the history of political theory, education and family in political theory, and principles of U.S. foreign policy. He has published Locke’s Education for Liberty (University of Chicago Press 1984), Machiavelli’s Discourses on Livy (University of Chicago Press 1996), and The Legacy of Rousseau (University of Chicago Press 1996), and numerous articles on Locke, Machiavelli, the American Founders, Leo Strauss, democracy, and tyranny. He is also editor-in-chief of the Leo Strauss Transcript Series (University of Chicago Press 2017‒) and Director of the Leo Strauss Center at The University of Chicago.

Acknowledgments

We held the first conference in September, 2012. Since then, a relatively long period of time has passed, and during this delay there were many events, including the decline of “Strauss fever” in China and the publication of a lot of literature that aimed to rescue the real Leo Strauss from scandal. However, all the papers have remained as they were without significant revision. This is not because of forgetfulness or indolence but because of the sincerity that went into their conception. The chapters in this volume are not very much impacted by the rumors accompanying the rise of neoconservatism in American politics. The contributors are not passionate about capturing fashions in thought but are interested in Strauss’s political philosophy and its potential contribution to the dialogue between East and West. Our intellectual debts to Professor Nathan Tarcov at The University of ­Chicago should be mentioned. He read all the chapters and provided an insightful and challenging set of comments. Two anonymous reviewers at Routledge gave us very helpful comments on the drafts of each chapter. We also benefited immensely from the discussions between us all which have been held on various occasions over the years. Particularly, we were privileged to work with the late Professor Shozo Iijima at Waseda University. We were assisted by his scholarly integrity and decency over a long period, without which this volume would never have been undertaken. Thus, we unanimously decided to dedicate this volume to the late Professor Shozo Iijima with our deepest gratitude. The first conference was supported by the research project of Sungwoo Park, funded by the National Research Foundation of South Korea (NRF2011-327-B00015). The editorial process for this volume was supported by the Department of Philosophy in Zhuhai at Sun Yat-sen University. Jun-Hyeok Kwak and Sungwoo Park

Part I

General overview

1 Introduction The reception of Leo Strauss in Northeast Asia Jun-Hyeok Kwak

Prologue In Northeast Asia, public interest in Leo Strauss and his political philosophy has been rapidly declining in recent times. This is certainly a surprising phenomenon, particularly in China where Strauss’s popularity underwent a tremendous increase during the emergence of neoconservatism in the United States a decade ago. However, “Straussian hermeneutics” is still regarded as an important method of interpretation by scholars in the field of the history of political philosophy. And the key issues underlying the methodological premises of Straussian hermeneutics, such as the problem of modernity, attract sincere scholars and stimulate scholarly debates. Furthermore, we observe that some intellectuals in Northeast Asia present “Straussianism” as a sort of sinister cult, and show animosity toward scholars who identify themselves as “Straussians.” This academic atmosphere indicates that the recent decline of public interest in Strauss in Northeast Asia can be considered as nothing but a trend that drifts along with the fluctuation of public interest in sociopolitical issues. As a matter of fact, the recent decline of public interest in Leo Strauss thoroughly invalidates the cogency of the currently dominant approach to the reception of Strauss in Northeast Asia. Most of the scholarly works on the reception of Strauss in Northeast Asia are interwoven with the question that Mark Lilla once addressed in his magazine article (Lilla 2010): “Why is Leo Strauss popular in China?” With an idiosyncratic suspicion about the reception of Strauss in Northeast Asia, they stress the immense surge of scholarly interest in Strauss in the past but they pay far less attention to the ongoing philosophical appropriations of Strauss and his political ideas in recent times. Disclosing the selective adaptations of Strauss’s political ideas, some scholars have endeavored to examine the recent decline of “Strauss fever” in China (Shaw 2017; Kroll 2017). However, they do not go beyond what Mark Lilla foreshadowed vaguely with the word “strangeness” in the reception of Strauss in China. In other words, they do not pay due consideration to the scholarly readings of Strauss in Northeast Asia and their ingenuity in the sense of philosophical appropriation across cultures. What they consciously or unconsciously intend to uncover is the Chinese or Northeast Asian cultural and sociopolitical contexts that provide the rationales for the selective adaptations.

4  Jun-Hyeok Kwak More importantly, there are only a few scholarly works that analyze the reception of Strauss in Japan and South Korea. Almost every work in English journals on the reception of Strauss in Northeast Asia is focused on China. This is not only because Chinese scholarly debates about Strauss and his political ideas have been much more vibrant than the analogous debates in Japan and South Korea. The rapidly changing global environment spurred by the rise of China has inevitably increased academic interest in the Chinese reception of Strauss. However, Western unfamiliarity with the other two Northeast Asian cases has fostered an undesirable distortion that invokes uncanny similarities between the three cases with an agenda of Asian values or Confucian traditions in East Asia. The unique evolution of Straussianism in China, which has frequently been juxtaposed with the return to Confucian tradition and the relentless criticism of liberal democracy, cannot single out a set of distinctive features that could be shared with the other two countries. By the same token, the eclectic adaptations of Strauss’s political ideas in China cannot be attributed solely to sociopolitical contexts that have not been experienced in the other two countries. The result is that the relentless search for historical evidence arising from the peculiarities of the Chinese experience in the reception of Strauss cannot completely escape the transcultural appeal of Strauss’s political philosophy to Northeast Asian scholars. Based on these observations, in analyzing the reception of Leo Strauss in Northeast Asia, we will be exploring a philosophical encounter between East and West in which the philosophical appropriation of Strauss and his political philosophy in non-Western practices can be appropriately accounted for. More specifically, this volume seeks to accomplish three tasks. First, juxtaposing the central idea of Strauss’s political philosophy with the question of modernity which has been taken seriously throughout the reception of Strauss in Northeast Asia, we will elaborate on the eclectic adaptations of Strauss in the Northeast Asian countries as a philosophical appropriation across cultures. Second, examining how Strauss’s philosophy was first introduced into the Northeast Asian countries, we will shed light on the similarities and dissimilarities between the different experiences in Northeast Asia which ultimately challenge the dominant approach that attributes the various receptions of Strauss in Northeast Asia solely to sociopolitical circumstances. Third, readdressing the central themes of Strauss with the tension between philosophy and society, we will investigate the possible transcultural appeal of Strauss’s political philosophy to Northeast Asian societies.

Hermeneutics and the philosophic life Most scholars who favor Leo Strauss and his political philosophy express directly or indirectly that they have experienced a rare “wonder” (thaumazein) for the great thinkers after reading his interpretations of classical texts. For example, Heinrich Meier recalled that “through nothing and no one have I learned to read better, more attentively, more fruitfully than through reading Strauss” (2011, 20). As we can see from the chapters by Shozo Iijima, Mingkun Li, and Yong-Min

Reception of Strauss in Northeast Asia  5 Kim in this volume, this is the same for the Northeast Asian scholars who first introduced Strauss into the countries of the region. They were fascinated with the erudition of Strauss which covered such a broad range of the history of Western political philosophy, and simultaneously they found in his books a new way of addressing Western thinkers which was not bound solely to particular historical contexts but tied to the relentless quest for knowledge about perennial sociopolitical problems. But it is doubtful that they considered themselves “Straussians.” They addressed Strauss’s hermeneutics, while they often confused his textual reading with “textualism,” which interprets a text without considering its historical context. And they were sympathetic with Strauss’s critiques of historicism and positivism, though they seldom put forward the central topics of his mature works, such as the quarrel between ancient and modern and the tension between politics and philosophy. In fact, the early reception of Strauss in Northeast Asia can be characterized as a time for “learning” through his works what had been forgotten in the history of Western political philosophy. This characteristic of “learning” in the early reception of Strauss is still predominant in Northeast Asia. It is partially driven by the success of the book, History of Political Philosophy, written by Strauss and his students. This book has been widely recognized as a good guide to the original texts, this being indicated as the primary goal of the book in the preface to the first edition in 1963 (Leo Strauss and Joseph Cropsey 1987, xiv). However, the success of the book is not the only reason that makes the trait of the early reception of Strauss sustainable. The prolongation of the trait of “learning” has also been spurred on by the traditional Confucian idea of “learning” (xue) in Northeast Asia which emphasizes its combination with “practice” (xi) and ultimately directs the learner toward self-fulfillment and social transformation. “Learning” particularly in Confucianism is integrated into the self-cultivation of a person to be a “gentleman” (junzi), a man of perfect virtue, and the completeness of learning is bound up with practicing (jianxing) what one has learned (Cheng 2004). At this juncture, despite the differences between Strauss and Confucianism as elaborated by Shiqi Tang herein, Strauss, who confronts the questions driven by political philosophers in the past, attracts students who wish to understand their philosophical and sociopolitical problems by reading the classical texts of the great thinkers. It is notable that the trait of “learning” is particularly strong in South Korea where the few who are sympathetic to Strauss’s hermeneutics refer to themselves as Straussians. The emergence of the issue of esoteric and exoteric writing in Northeast Asia signifies a departure from the early reception of Strauss. The departure can be taken as an advance in the study of Strauss in the sense that his works are no longer perceived as a mere guide for “learning” classical texts, but as a genuine political philosophy for considered criticism. Both defenders and critics of Strauss carefully read his works with what Nathan Tarcov defines in his chapter as the “dual meaning of political philosophy” in Strauss’s works. Defenders put forward the priority of the philosophical over the political life in his works by taking account of his assertion on esotericism as the justification for philosophy

6   Jun-Hyeok Kwak over politics swayed by opinions in a political community. For instance, Sungwoo Park maintains in his chapter that the deeper meaning of political philosophy as “the political treatment of philosophy” needs to be interpreted as an emphasis on the limited role of a political philosopher as a commentator on philosophical errors in politics rather as a utopian teacher of statesmen. In contrast, critics pejoratively describe this esotericism as an indication of the endorsement of the rule of the knowledgeable few. In a similar vein, Shiqi Tang in his chapter criticizes Strauss for advocating a hierarchy of human souls, juxtaposing it with the ancient Chinese teaching that the distinction between the knowledgeable few and the common people is not determined by natural capability but by different degrees of endeavor in self-cultivation. The most enthusiastic appropriation of Strauss’s esotericism in Northeast Asia can be found in the works of Xiaofeng Liu and Yang Gan who are known as the pioneers of the study of Strauss in China. As Mingkun Li mentions in his chapter, Liu and Gan delve deeply into the recovery of classical Chinese classics through the lens of Strauss. For them, Strauss’s call for the return to classical philosophy bears the urgent need for rehabilitating ancient thought that is firmly rooted in a particular society. At this juncture, the Strauss–Kojève debate in which Strauss refuted Kojève’s Hegelian conception of “the universal and homogenous state” serves as the source for their repudiation of any universalism that tries to override ancient Chinese thought in favor of modern Western discourses (Liu 2013a, 144–161; Gan 2002, 32–34, 2003, 73–100; cf. Strauss 2000 [1961], 192–211). At the same time, Strauss’s praise of the philosophic life leans precariously toward the side of the teacher of statesmen, having been employed to justify the education of “leaders” (danganzhe jieceng) or future “legislators” (lifazhe) for sociopolitical reform (Liu 2013b, 191–192, 2006, 239–270; Gan 2002, 79–82). At the practical level, their return to classical philosophy revolves around a liberal education that aims to teach students the classical texts in East and West. However, they can hardly avoid the criticism that their concerns with contemporary China have made them depart from their initial purpose of a liberal education. Notably, their longing for “good politics” (haozhengzhi) is likely to discard what Strauss means by the actualization of the best possible by chance.

“Overcoming” the modernity Haig Patapan in his chapter points out that Strauss’s questioning of modernity can make a significant contribution to East–West dialogue. In particular, evidencing the process of modernization in Asia as “Westernization,” he maintains that students of Eastern thought can learn from Strauss, whose vivid criticism of modernity in the form of technology and the scientific knowledge related to it clearly discloses the origin of the crisis of the West. By the same token, he claims that Westerners can learn from a close study of classical Eastern works that can reveal what has lapsed into oblivion through the modernity of the West. The first path to East–West dialogue has been carried out successfully in

Reception of Strauss in Northeast Asia  7 ­ ortheast Asia. The problems of modernity scrutinized by Strauss have been N studied seriously by Northeast Asian scholars who find fault with modernity and its negative impact on their societies. Not only relativism, but nearly all the issues raised by Strauss with respect to modernity have caused many intellectuals to reflect that the problems of modernity originated in Western societies. On the contrary, the second path to East–West dialogue hasn’t yet been taken to any meaningful degree. Paradoxically, as elaborated by Jianhong Chen in his chapter, Strauss’s counsel on a genuine meeting between East and West awakens Chinese scholars to recovering their own way of life (cf. Strauss 1989, 43–45). For them, China cannot be ready for the meeting if she does not regain the original vigor of her civilization which has been subordinated to modern Western rationalism. At this juncture, what should be added to these discourses on East–West dialogue is modernity’s multiplicity in Northeast Asia. Both embracing and resisting the modernity imposed by the violent incursions of Western imperialism into the region, Northeast Asian thinkers have shaped diverse trajectories of modernity. And these complicated facets of modernity in Northeast Asia can hardly be simplified through modern Western rationalism. The proponents of Sinicization, including Qichao Liang, envisioned “Chinese-style modernization” as opposed to individualistic Western rationalism, which was perceived by them as spiritually corrupting civilization (Yu 2010, 161–168), and the Japanese intellectuals of the Kyoto school in the interwar period wished to overcome modernity by restoring a commonality with the traditional culture, including earlier Japanese piety (Harootunian 2000, 34–94). In this context, Takashi Kibe in his chapter deals with the multiplicity of modernity by placing Yukichi Fukuzawa at the center of Japanese modernity. At first glance, he takes into account Strauss’s explication of modernity as a linear understanding of modernity. However, his primary purpose is to shed light on the teleological sense of civilization hidden beneath Fukuzawa’s conception of “relative thinking” into which the particularity of Japanese civilization was significantly thrust. The conclusion of his chapter is that the Japanese trajectory of modernity cannot avoid Strauss’s criticism of modernity. Whatever justification there may be for the multiplicity of modernity in Northeast Asia, the practice of nation-building appears to be bound to contradict Strauss’s criticism of modernity. The propensity toward such a judgment has been prevalent among Japanese and South Korean scholars who are conversant with the quarrel between ancients and moderns in Strauss’s political philosophy. In contrast, Xiaofeng Liu and Yang Gan have embarked passionately on the scholarly effort of constructing a new Chinese governance. Putting forward “virtuous politics” (dezheng) as a universal value of the state, Liu debunks liberals and their models of liberal democracy with the basic standards of a just state in which national security and virtuous unity are placed before individual freedom and rights (Liu 2013b, 185, 189–191). Interestingly, differing from his critical point of view on modernity, he does not intend to eschew the problems of the modern nation-state. As Zheng (2013) points out, his idea of the state,

8  Jun-Hyeok Kwak which is deeply influenced by Carl Schmitt, is virtually formalized in the vision of a nation that should be ready to compete with other nations for its preservation (Liu 2001, 2006, 142–182). Gan goes further in proposing a Chinese-style modernization in which the legitimate direction of constitutional reform is based on his theory of the “Integration of Three Traditions” (tong santong): Confucian tradition, Mao Zedong’s tradition, and Deng Xiaoping’s tradition (Gan 2007a, 2007b, 3–49). His vision of constitutional reform indicates how far Gan is from Strauss, since this can hardly dispel its inherent connection to historicism and the Enlightenment. Both Schmitt and Strauss criticized liberal democracy for its neglect of humanity’s natural condition. For Schmitt, liberalism in general and liberal pluralism in particular fails to substantiate “the ever-present possibility of conflict” in a political community and thus individuals in a liberal democracy can hardly grasp the irreconcilability of sociopolitical conflict in the absence of a centralized state (Schmitt 1996, 32–39, 82–83). Strauss reckoned the Hobbesian conception of the “political” as the fundamental condition for establishing a political order. However, it should be noted that Strauss criticized Schmitt’s understanding of the state as a quasi-objective entity for its de-radicalization of the dangers of humanity in the Hobbesian conception of the political. In particular, he found fault with Schmitt’s captivation with a centralized state, susceptible as it would be to the modern advocacy of the malleability of human nature, as well as the liberal emphasis on the technical neutrality of the state (Strauss 1996, 118–122). From this angle, the involvement of Liu and Gan in the ongoing debates on China’s reform appears to lie at a crossroads between “legitimate utopianism” and “modern utopianism.”1 Their interest in constructing a new China may be driven by a sense of responsibility as decent philosophers toward the post-socialist changes prompted by the rapid penetration of capitalism into China. But it is questionable whether their practice is still confined to what Strauss terms a moderate role of philosophers in actuality.

Beyond liberal democracy Nathan Tarcov in the next chapter lays out almost every imperative issue spanned by Strauss’s political philosophy. Particularly with respect to liberal democracy, he cogently explicates what many critics who regard Strauss as an anti-liberal philosopher have been missing. Specifically, he makes clear that Strauss’s primary concern about the crisis of the West does not reside chiefly in liberal democracy as a political regime which is based on and supported by unfettered liberalism. He further maintains that in the context of the Cold War, Strauss’s dissatisfaction with modern liberalism and his relentless cry for a return to classical political philosophy did not lead him to reprobate the regime of liberal democracy (cf. Strauss 1988 [1968], 203‒223; Smith 2006, 183; Galston 2009, 195). An extended version of this argument can be found in his paper delivered at the conference entitled “Leo Strauss: Religione e Liberalismo” in 2011. In this paper, quoting phrases on “being liberal” from Strauss’s book,

Reception of Strauss in Northeast Asia  9 Liberalism Ancient and Modern (1995), he proceeds to describe Strauss as a “liberal” or at least not an anti-liberal thinker in the original sense of liberal as being virtuous in classical philosophy (Tarcov 2011, 6). According to him, if we scrutinize carefully all the usages of liberal or liberalism in Strauss’s works, we may come to see that Strauss connotes a negative disapproval of liberalism only in one case, “modern liberalism” as a theory or ideology deriving from modern political philosophy. In other words, Strauss was not so much critical of liberal democracy, at least in the classical sense that “being free” which helps better in rejecting the thorough submission to the tyrannical convictions of the present. The question of liberal democracy is not so imperative in Japan and South Korea. Although it has recently brought about constitutional debates as we can see in Sungwoo Park’s prologue to his chapter, its ethical and political predominance in these two countries has not been significantly challenged to date. Idiosyncratically, the realization of liberal democracy is still perceived by the general public of these two countries as a “modernization” project coming together with the issues of individual rights, the rule of law, and democratic accountability. Such an idiosyncratic locus of liberal democracy in these two countries can be ascribed to various sociopolitical experiences, including the post-war American occupations of Japan and South Korea, the Cold War followed by the outbreak of the Korean War, and the trade-offs between economic development and political freedom under authoritarian regimes, particularly in South Korea. But the most important aspect among others to be considered with scholarly scrutiny is that liberal democracy as a vision of the best political order has been bound up with a type of idealism and consequently condensed into the political psyche of the citizens of these two countries. In this context, the philosophical character of liberalism has been analyzed seriously through Strauss’s works, while his questioning of liberal democracy has been relatively sidelined in consideration of the present. At this juncture, Yoshihiko Ishizaki’s chapter is invaluable, since it unleashes a fully-fledged deliberation on the “liberal” state in Japan through Strauss’s insights. In contrast, the question of liberal democracy is very important to scholars in China who, through Strauss’s works, disapprove of liberalism. For example, Xiaofeng Liu and Yang Gan criticize liberal democracy for its de-politicization of the political and its mediocre standards of good governance (Liu 2011, 11–85, 335–356; Gan 2002, 20–41). In similar vein, Jianhong Chen in his chapter proceeds to compare Strauss with Schmitt in the sense of the problems of liberal democracy and subsequently aligns the former’s return to classical philosophy with the education of virtuous gentlemen. And Mingkun Li in his chapter renders Liu’s interpretation of Strauss’s critique of liberalism as a third way, which cannot be classed as either left or right. One particular feature these two authors do not mention in their chapters is the ongoing reevaluation of Mao Zedong. Although Liu points out the faults of the Cultural Revolution in terms of the Enlightenment (Liu 2013b, 193), he evaluates Mao as a great founder who made China mature enough to cope with her international enemies in the sense of Schmitt’s distinction between friend and enemy (ibid., 195–224). Gan goes so far

10  Jun-Hyeok Kwak as to say that the Cultural Revolution was a “creative destruction” (chuangzaoxing pohuai), and on the basis of this he claims that had Mao’s reforms, conducive to equality and justice, not taken place, Deng Xiaoping’s reforms in the direction of liberty and rights wouldn’t have been possible (Gan 2007a, 6–8). Shortly put, it is undeniable that they correctly capture Strauss’s critique of modern liberalism, while inviting inquiry whether in their vision of the best possible order, Strauss’s defense of “being liberal” may be secured.

Epilogue In the introduction to The City and Man, Strauss stresses that “for the foreseeable future, political society remains what it always has been: a partial or particular society whose most urgent and primary task is its self-preservation and whose highest task is its self-improvement” (Strauss 1964, 6). And he proclaimed at the Conference on Jewish Relations which was held at the New School for Social Research in 1943 that “no nation can presume to educate another nation which has a high tradition of its own” (Strauss 2007b, 534). Ironically, these statements are often rendered as the passages that could justify the domination of the strongest. Putting them together with Strauss’s critiques of modern liberalism, some scholars maintain that we are allowed considerable latitude in justifying the logic of “might is right” when opting for the best possible means of self-preservation. However, as Nathan Tarcov (2006) points out, these statements should be interpreted as a warning against any attempt to establish a universal state. At the same time, they are equally applicable to any type of idealism to the extent that they may be a warning against modern utopianism. One of the goals of this volume is to reconsider these warnings in the Northeast Asian context.

Note 1 Strauss repudiates “modern utopianism” as fanaticism involving the reckless belief that enlightened self-interest can end the brutal realities of human nature (Strauss 2007a, 519–529). Significantly, he emphasizes that modern utopianism started with Machiavelli and failed to make good on its abstract promises and ended up with the actualization of lower standards of being and living. On the contrary, he endorses the ancient mode of “legitimate utopianism” attributed chiefly to Plato and Aristotle who aimed at improving an actual order through philosophy without losing their skepticism about any attempt to realize the perfect order in actuality. In the sense of legitimate utopianism, he insinuates that the role of philosophers in sociopolitical reform should be limited and moderated. On Strauss’s thought on the utopianism of the ancients and its relevance to his writings about actual politics, see Steven Smith (2006, 156–183) and Nathan Tarcov (2006).

Bibliography Cheng, Chung-ying. 2004. “A Theory of Confucian Selfhood, Self-Cultivation and Free Will in Confucian Philosophy,” in Confucian Ethics: A Comparative Study of Self,

Reception of Strauss in Northeast Asia  11 Autonomy and Community, edited by Kwong-loi Shun and David B. Wong. New York: Cambridge University Press, 124–147. Galston, William. 2009. “Leo Strauss’s Qualified Embrace of Liberal Democracy,” in The Cambridge Companion to Leo Strauss, edited by Steven B. Smith. New York: Cambridge University Press, 193–214. Gan, Yang. 2002. “政治哲人施特勞斯: 古典保守主義政治哲學的復興” [“The Political Philosopher Leo Strauss: The Revival of Classical Conservative Political Philosophy”], Introduction to 自然权利与历史 [Natural Right and History in Chinese]. Trans. 彭刚. 北京: 生活·读书·新知三联书店, 1–82. Gan, Yang. 2003. 政治哲人施特勞斯: 古典保守主義政治哲學的復興 [The Political Philosopher Leo Strauss]. Hong Kong: Oxford University Press. Gan, Yang. 2007a. “中国道路:三十年与六十年” [“The Chinese Way: Thirty Years and Sixty Years”], 读书 6, 3–13. Gan, Yang. 2007b. 通三统 [Integration of Three Traditions]. 北京: 生活·读书· 新知三联书店. Harootunian, Harry. 2000. Overcome by Modernity, History, Culture, and Community in Interwar Japan. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Kroll, Charlotte. 2017. “Reading the Temperature Curve: Sinophone Schmitt-fever in Context and Perspective,” in Carl Schmitt and Leo Strauss in the Chinese-Speaking World: Reorienting the Political, edited by Kai Marchal and Carl K. Y. Shaw. New York: Lexington, 103–120. Lilla, Mark. 2010. “Reading Strauss in Beijing: China’s Strange Taste in Western Philosophers,” New Republic (December 17). Liu, Xiaofeng. 2001. “施密特与政治哲学的现代性” [“Leo Strauss and the Political Philosophy of Modernity”], 浙江学刊, 3, 19–25. Liu, Xiaofeng. 2006. 现代人及其敌人:公法学家施米特引论 [The Modernists and Their Enemy: An Introduction to Carl Schmitt]. 北京: 华夏出版社. Liu, Xiaofeng. 2010. 施特劳斯的路标 [The Pathmark of Leo Strauss]. 北京: 华夏出版社. Liu, Xiaofeng. 2013. “如何认识百年共和的历史含义” [“How to Understand the Historical Implications of the Centennial Republic”], 开放时代, 5, 183–193. Meier, Heinrich. 2011. “Why Leo Strauss? Four Answers and One Consideration concerning the Uses and Disadvantages of the School for the Philosophical Life,” in Modernity and What Has Been Lost: Considerations on the Legacy of Leo Strauss, edited by Pawel Armada and Arkadiusz Górnisiewicz. South Bend, IN: St. Augustine’s Press, 19–31. Schmitt, Carl. 1996. The Conception of the Political. Trans. George Schwab. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Shaw, Carl K. Y. 2017. “Toward a Radical Critique of Liberalism: Carl Schmitt and Leo Strauss in Contemporary Chinese Discourses,” in Carl Schmitt and Leo Strauss in the Chinese-Speaking World: Reorienting the Political, edited by Kai Marchal and Carl K. Y. Shaw. New York: Lexington, 37–57. Smith, Steven B. 2006. Reading Leo Straus: Politics, Philosophy, Judaism. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1964. The City and Man. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1988 [1968]. Liberalism Ancient and Modern. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1989. “An Introduction to Heideggerian Existentialism,” in The Rebirth of Classical Political Rationalism: An Introduction to the Thought of Leo Strauss, edited by Thomas L. Pangle. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 27–46.

12  Jun-Hyeok Kwak Strauss, Leo. 1996. “Notes on Carl Schmitt, The Concept of the Political,” trans. J. Harvey Lomax, in Carl Schmitt, The Concept of the Political, trans. George Schwab. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 97–122. Strauss, Leo. 2000 [1961]. On Tyranny: Including the Strauss–Kojéve Correspondence. Edited by Victor Gourevitch and Michael S. Roth. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 2007a. “What Can We Learn from Political Theory?” The Review of Politics 69:4, 515–529. Strauss, Leo. 2007b. “The Re-Education of Axis Countries Concerning the Jews,” The Review of Politics 69:4, 530–538. Strauss, Leo and Cropsey, Joseph. 1987 [1963]. History of Political Philosophy. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Tarcov, Nathan. 2006. “Will the Real Leo Strauss Please Stand Up?” The American Interest. September/October, 120–128. Tarcov, Nathan. 2011. “Leo Strauss: Critique and Defense of Liberalism,” paper delivered at the Conference Leo Strauss: Religione e Liberalismo. Rome (May 13). Yu, Keping. 2010. “ ‘Westernization’ vs. ‘Sinicization’: An Ineffaceable Paradox within China’s Modernization Process,” in Culture and Social Transformations in Reform Era China, edited by Cao Tian Yu, Zhong Xueping, and Liao Kebin. Boston, MA: Brill, 153–195. Zheng, Qi. 2013. “Carl Schmitt, Leo Strauss, and the Issue of Political Legitimacy in China,” American Foreign Policy Interests 35:5, 254–264.

Part II

Leo Strauss across culture

2 Leo Strauss and the problems of political philosophy A brief survey Nathan Tarcov

Philosophy In this chapter I attempt to offer my own sketch of what I regard as the most important features of Leo Strauss’s work (each of which could easily be the subject of an essay or even a book) and bring out the interconnections among his themes and thereby the unity of his thought. I begin with Strauss’s understanding of philosophy because I think it is the central idea of his mature work, which entails critiques of historicism, positivism, and revelation as denials of the possibility or necessity of philosophy. Combined with his conception of society it leads to a tension between philosophy and society and thereby to Strauss’s dual conception of political philosophy and his thesis about exotericism. In Strauss’s essay “What Is Political Philosophy?” he writes that “Philosophy, as quest for wisdom, is quest for universal knowledge, for knowledge of the whole.” Since philosophy is “necessarily preceded by opinions about the whole,” it is “the attempt to replace opinions about the whole by knowledge of the whole” or of “all things,” including “knowledge of God, the world and man,” or “knowledge of the natures of all things” (1988b, 11).1 Philosophy therefore presupposes awareness of the distinction between genuine knowledge and mere opinion. It should be emphasized how seriously Strauss intends here the terms “quest” and “attempt.” Strauss therefore immediately adds that Philosophy is essentially not possession of the truth, but quest for the truth. The distinctive trait of the philosopher is that ‘he knows that he knows nothing’ and that his insight into our ignorance concerning the most important things induces him to strive with all his power for knowledge. Philosophy for Strauss therefore is a way of life, not a body or system of knowledge as it appears in classical German philosophy, or an academic discipline defined by a distinctive method or subject matter (Strauss 1997b, 122). For Strauss to say that “philosophy in the original meaning of the term is nothing but knowledge of one’s ignorance” (1988b, 115) or that the philosopher “knows that he knows nothing” (cf. Plato’s Apology of Socrates 21D) or has

16   Nathan Tarcov “insight into our ignorance concerning the most important things” is not to say that philosophy simply is ignorance or that the philosopher simply knows nothing: “knowledge of ignorance is not ignorance” (1988b, 38; my emphasis). On the contrary, it is to say in the first place that the philosopher knows what the most important things and the questions about them are, and that by possessing insight into “our” ignorance concerning them, he also knows that others of us who claim such knowledge do not possess it (cf. Apology of Socrates 21C‒22E). Strauss adds further that “the clear grasp of a fundamental question requires understanding of the nature of the subject matter with which the question is concerned” (ibid., 11).2 He states this point more fully in Natural Right and History: philosophy is possible only if man, while incapable of acquiring wisdom or full understanding of the whole, is capable of knowing what he does not know, that is to say, of grasping the fundamental problems and therewith the fundamental alternatives, which are in principle coeval with human thought. (Strauss 1953, 35, 32; cf. Tarcov 2010, 43–52) He even identifies “the unchangeable ideas” of Socrates with “the fundamental and permanent problems” (Strauss 1988b, 39). The ultimate purpose of Strauss’s work therefore was not, as is sometimes said, to recover a set of ancient doctrines or “absolute values” but, as he writes at the end of the introduction to his Thoughts on Machiavelli, “to contribute towards the recovery of the permanent problems” (Strauss 1995a, 14). If philosophy is to legitimize or justify itself, however, it cannot, for Strauss, be content with mere awareness of every problem: there is one question it must and can answer. Strauss writes in his essay “On Classical Political Philosophy” that The philosophers, as well as other men who have become aware of the possibility of philosophy, are sooner or later driven to wonder “Why philosophy?” Why does human life need philosophy, why is it good, why is it right, that opinions about the nature of the whole should be replaced by genuine knowledge of the nature of the whole? (1988b, 92) Stated more broadly, the question that cannot be left unanswered by the philosopher is the Socratic question of the good or right way of life. As indicated by the statement from “What Is Political Philosophy?” quoted above that the philosopher’s “insight into our ignorance concerning the most important things induces him to strive with all his power for knowledge,” Socratic knowledge of ignorance as understood by Strauss thus dictates an answer to the question of how to live, an answer that still requires justification or defense. Thus, in Natural Right and History Strauss writes of not only a “Socratic question” of

Strauss and political philosophy  17 how to live, but also “the Socratic answer to the question of how man ought to live.” He explains that answer as follows: By realizing that we are ignorant of the most important things, we realize at the same time that the most important thing for us, or the one thing needful, is quest for knowledge of the most important things or quest for wisdom. (1953, 36)3 Strauss elaborates this argument in his lectures delivered when he was finishing Natural Right and History entitled “Progress or Return?”: the question of utmost urgency, the question which does not permit suspense, is the question of how one should live. Now this question is settled for Socrates by the fact that he is a philosopher. As a philosopher he knows that we are ignorant of the most important things. The ignorance, the evident fact of this ignorance, evidently proves that quest for knowledge of the most important things is the most important thing for us. Philosophy is, then, evidently the right way of life. This is, in addition, confirmed by the fact that he finds his happiness in acquiring the highest possible degree of clarity which he can acquire. (1997b, 122; cf. 1953, 75) Philosophy, according to Strauss, is thus not only a way of life but also an answer to the question of the right way of life by saying it is itself that right way of life, an answer dictated both by the philosopher’s peculiar ignorance and by the happiness he experiences in philosophizing. Philosophy for Strauss, at least in its classical or original form, is also characterized by the discovery of nature or of the fundamental distinction between nature and convention (Strauss 1953, 81–82, 89–90, 93). Philosophy is thus marked by the distinction between that which is true in itself always and everywhere and that which is held to be true only here and now by human agreement (Strauss 2007c, 69:4, 515–529, 521). It recognizes nature as the standard by which to judge convention (Strauss 1953, 92). Nature means both “the essential character of a thing or group of things” (their natures) and “the first things.” Knowledge of the essential characters of things or groups of things presupposes “unchangeable and knowable necessity”; the philosophic quest presupposes that the first things are things which are always or imperishable, “something permanent or eternal” (ibid., 83 n. 3, 89–90). The discovery of nature, and the distinction between nature and convention, are closely related to two pre-philosophic distinctions that guide the philosophic quest: between hearsay and seeing with one’s own eyes and between man-made things and things that are not man-made. The distinction between hearsay and direct observation leads the philosopher to test tradition or what is heard by what can be made manifest or demonstrated. The distinction between artificial and not man-made things leads the philosopher to demand demonstration for any conclusion about non-man-made things drawn

18  Nathan Tarcov from man-made things (ibid., 86–89). In discovering nature as the standard by which to judge convention, philosophy, Strauss writes, “at least according to its own interpretation, is trans-historical, trans-social, trans-moral, and trans-­ religious.” Finally, the distinction between nature and convention is closely related to “the distinction by which philosophy stands or falls, the distinction between reason and authority,” since authority demands obedience to what is heard or generally agreed upon without reasoning (ibid., 89, 92; Meier 2006, 147). Strauss’s most fundamental concern is always with the possibility and necessity of philosophy so understood.

Political philosophy In “What Is Political Philosophy?” Strauss presents political philosophy as a branch of philosophy, the philosophical treatment of political matters, treatment that goes to the roots and is comprehensive, the conscious, coherent, and relentless attempt to replace opinion by knowledge about the nature of political matters (1988b, 10–12). Since it is in the nature of political matters to claim to be judged by some standard of goodness or justice, political philosophy strives for genuine knowledge of those standards and of the best or the just political order, the order that is best always and everywhere (ibid., 12, 56, 87). Strauss therefore distinguishes political philosophy from other kinds of political thought indifferent to the distinction between opinion and knowledge and attached to a particular political order or policy rather than to discovering the truth, especially those that expound or defend an invigorating myth. Strauss distinguishes political philosophy from political theory, in sharp contrast to the usage in the academic field most widely known at least in the United States by the latter name. He characterizes political theory as comprehensive reflections on the political situation that lead to the suggestion of a broad policy and that appeal to principles accepted by public opinion or a considerable part of it (ibid., 13). What is currently called “democratic theory,” with its attachment to a democratic political order, would therefore likely not be regarded by Strauss as political philosophy. In his posthumously published 1942 lecture “What Can We Learn from Political Theory?” Strauss began by saying, “The title of this lecture is not entirely of my own choosing. I do not like very much the term political theory; I would prefer to speak of political philosophy” (2007c, 515). He goes on in that lecture to explain his preference on the grounds that the term “political theory” violates the traditional (Aristotelian) division of the sciences into theoretical and practical, with political science one of the practical rather than the theoretical sciences. He charges that use of the term “political theory” tacitly affirms that all science is ultimately practical or that the basis of reasonable practice is pure theory and that such usage divides political knowledge into observable data and hypothetical explanations called “theories” (ibid., 515–516; cf. Strauss 1995b, 206). It is clear to me that Strauss understood himself to be engaged in political philosophy rather than in political thought or political theory, that he was interested in clarifying the standards by

Strauss and political philosophy  19 which ­societies and policies are to be judged, rather than in suggesting a broad policy or in expounding a myth meant to invigorate an existing, or bring about a future political order. According to Strauss, although political philosophy is the quest for the best political order or regime, in classical political philosophy that best regime has “a peculiar manner of being … namely, its lacking actuality while being superior to all actual regimes” (1988b, 35, 1953, 139). In “What Can We Learn from Political Theory?” Strauss writes that philosophers as such “prevented those who were willing to listen to them from identifying any actual order, however satisfactory in many respects, with the perfect order.” He calls this the “legitimate utopianism inherent in philosophy as such … the very soul of Plato’s and Aristotle’s political philosophy.” He explains that they “did not seriously believe that the perfect order of society would ever become a reality … but they felt that any actual order could bear improvement, substantial improvement.” The most they hoped for, according to Strauss, was by their moral appeals and advice to induce one of those in power “to do his best along the lines of decency and humanity.” In sharpest contrast with Hegel, they insisted on “the fundamental difference between the ideal and the real, the reasonable and the actual” (2007c, 521–523, 527, 1988b, 88). In “What Is Political Philosophy?”, the first chapter of What Is Political Philosophy and Other Studies, Strauss explains that “in the expression ‘political philosophy,’ ‘philosophy’ indicates the manner of treatment” and “ ‘political’ indicates both the subject matter and the function.” The third chapter of that book, “On Classical Political Philosophy,” however, culminates in the presentation of a “deeper meaning of political philosophy” distinct from that “ordinary meaning.” In this deeper meaning, ‘political philosophy’ means primarily not the philosophic treatment of politics, but the political, or popular, treatment of philosophy, or the political introduction to philosophy—the attempt to lead the qualified citizens, or rather their qualified sons, from the political life to the philosophic life. (1988b, 93–94, 1988a, 18) This dual meaning of political philosophy is crucial to understanding Strauss’s work. At least in its classical form, political philosophy for Strauss necessarily both promotes the well-being of the political community and thereby justifies philosophy before the tribunal of the political community. It both relates directly to and transcends political life (1988a, 78–81, 91, 1953, 151). In both respects, classical political philosophy, according to Strauss, culminates in praise of the philosophic life. Strauss writes that “no difference between classical political philosophy and modern political philosophy is more telling” than that the philosophic life, which was the highest theme in the former, has almost ceased to be a subject of the latter (1988b, 91). For Strauss, not only must political philosophy be concerned with the philosophic life, but philosophy must be concerned with political life. For him political philosophy is central to philosophy. Since philosophy for him

20  Nathan Tarcov is the attempt to rise from opinion to knowledge and thus begins with opinions as the most important access to reality we have, it is necessarily related to the political sphere, the home of opinion (Strauss 1953, 124). When philosophy is driven to ask, “Why philosophy?” or why human life needs philosophy, it must ask why political life needs philosophy, “since human life is living together or, more exactly is political life” (1988b, 92–93).

The relation of political philosophy to political life Strauss’s view of the relation of political philosophy in its classical form to practical politics and policy is complex and even perplexing. For Strauss, classical political philosophy deals with political matters in a manner relevant to political life, looks at them in the perspective and speaks the language of the enlightened citizen or statesman, accepts the distinctions and the questions of political life, and acts as the impartial umpire in the fundamental controversies of political life by serving as the teacher of legislators (1988b, 10–12, 27–28, 79–81, 84–85). The most fundamental controversy in political life, about who should rule, about the best regime or political order, is also the guiding question for classical political philosophy (1988b, 34, 85–86, 1953, 134–138). The relation of political philosophy as Strauss understands it to political prudence or practical wisdom (phronesis) is profoundly ambiguous. Whereas prudence and political life generally are concerned primarily with the particular community to which its members happen to belong, political philosophy is concerned primarily with what is essential to all political communities (1988b, 81). Strauss sometimes presents the sphere of prudence, at least for Aristotle as distinguished from Plato, as lower in rank than theoretical science but “in principle self-sufficient or closed,” since its principles or ends are known by moral virtue independently of theoretical science (1995b, 206, 1978, 25). Accordingly, in “What Can We Learn from Political Theory?” Strauss declares that he has “not the slightest doubt as to the possibility of devising an intelligent international policy without having any recourse to political philosophy” (2007c, 518, 527). The reasonable policies arrived at by prudence without the aid of political philosophy are endangered, however, by false theoretical opinions and therefore need political philosophy as a reminder of the limits set to human hopes and wishes. Even apart from the influence of false theoretical opinions, common sense left to itself is vulnerable to the extremes of the smugness of the philistine who believes the present order is perfect and the dreams of the visionary who believes in a future perfect order; common sense therefore needs to be fortified by political philosophy. This is a sort of apologetics for, but not the basis of, prudence (1995b, 206, 2007c, 520, 521–522, 527–528, 1978, 26). Strauss also claims, however, that it is not prudence but practical science (the Aristotelian equivalent of political philosophy) that sets forth coherently the principles of action and general rules of prudence, and more comprehensively and clearly grasps the natural ends of man and their natural order. Since the highest kind of political action, the giving of laws or framing of constitutions

Strauss and political philosophy  21 intended to be permanent by founding legislators, has to address the most fundamental and universal political questions about the best political order, the political philosopher can act as the teacher of legislators (1988b, 83–85, 1978, 28–29). The moral-political sphere is not unqualifiedly closed to theoretical science (1995b, 205–206, 1978, 28). The tradition of political philosophy founded by Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle contributed the concept of natural law or natural right to political life and has had such an influence, Strauss writes in 1942, that the cause Churchill defended then (perhaps “the cause of decency and humanity” or “the existence of civil liberties all over the world”) would not have existed without it (2007c, 518, 521, 527). The ambiguity of Strauss’s presentation of the issue of the relation between political philosophy and prudence reflects what he presents as both the disagreement and the agreement between Plato and Aristotle. Aristotle held that theoretical wisdom, knowledge of the whole, is available, founded political science as a discipline independent of theoretical physics and metaphysics, and did not attempt a purely theoretical derivation of the virtues, whereas Plato’s Socrates admits he does not have knowledge of the whole and derives the virtues from knowledge of the human soul. Yet Plato and Aristotle agree that the city is both open and closed to the whole and hence to philosophy (1978, 6, 29). By his own action Strauss himself seems to have followed the limited version of the role of a political philosopher as merely a defender of political life against theoretical errors rather than as a teacher of legislators. Whereas political philosophy in its original sense is the attempt to replace opinion about the nature of political things by knowledge of the nature of political things, Strauss writes that, in contrast, “it is of the essence of political life to be guided by a mixture of political knowledge and political opinion,” “opinion is the element of society,” and prior to the philosophic discovery of nature as distinct from convention, it was presumed that human beings cannot live well without being united with the fellow members of their community by identical opinions concerning first things. Strauss concludes from this that philosophy is “the attempt to dissolve the element in which society breathes, and thus it endangers society” (1988b, 15, 221–222, 1953, 91; Meier 2006, 146). This fundamental tension between philosophy and politics is central to Strauss’s work. This complex relation between political philosophy and political life and policy as Strauss conceives it is not always well understood and he is sometimes mistakenly regarded as the architect of particular policies or even as the mastermind of some partisan ideology.

Reason and revelation Strauss’s understanding of philosophy as attempting to replace opinions about the whole with knowledge of the whole or as grasping the fundamental problems and alternatives necessarily raises the question of the possibility of philosophy, whether human beings are capable of that knowledge or that grasp, and the question of the necessity or goodness of philosophy. Even the understanding of

22  Nathan Tarcov philosophy as knowledge of our ignorance of the most important things raises the question of whether we are ignorant of what is most necessary or whether we are instead vouchsafed such knowledge by authority, tradition, or divine revelation, knowledge that regards philosophic ignorance as sinful. Strauss declares that the fundamental question is whether men can acquire that knowledge of the good without which they cannot guide their lives individually or collectively by the unaided efforts of their natural powers, or whether they are dependent for that knowledge on Divine Revelation. No alternative is more fundamental than this: human guidance or divine guidance. (1953, 74) This fundamental conflict reflects a fundamental dualism in human nature between action and thought (1997b, 120). A proper exploration of this question is beyond the bounds of a survey such as this. Strauss insists that this conflict cannot be resolved by any harmonization or synthesis. He sometimes even presents this question as unresolvable: philosophy and revelation cannot refute each other. He sometimes concludes that this situation of mutual irrefutability would constitute the refutation of philosophy by revelation since philosophy rests on reason rather than arbitrary decision, belief, or faith. Yet he also suggests that the unresolved tension between these two alternatives is “the secret of the vitality of Western civilization” (1953, 74–75, 1989b, 72–73, 1997b, 104, 116–117, 120–121, 127–128, 131, 1997a, 30, 1983, 210–211; cf. Meier 2006, 141–179). In a strikingly imperative passage in his lectures “Progress or Return?” Strauss concludes: No one can be both a philosopher and a theologian, or, for that matter, some possibility which transcends the conflict between philosophy and theology, or pretends to be a synthesis of both. But every one of us can be and ought to be either one or the other, the philosopher open to the challenge of theology, or the theologian open to the challenge of philosophy. (1997b, 116–117) Some readers conclude that Strauss regarded philosophy as refuted by its confrontation with revelation and that he was therefore compelled to opt for revelation in some form. Others conclude that he left the tension unresolved if only to preserve the vitality of the West. Still others suggest he was a philosopher open to the challenge of theology, whatever exactly that means. Strauss does not, however, simply leave it at stating this tension. For example, the presentation in Natural Right and History begins, “If we take a bird’s eye view of the secular struggle between philosophy and theology, we can hardly avoid the impression that neither of the antagonists has ever succeeded in really refuting the other.” An impression yielded by a bird’s eye view hardly sounds like the last word on the subject, and the succeeding sentences culminating in “the refutation of

Strauss and political philosophy   23 p­ hilosophy by revelation” are full of “seems,” “appear,” and “would.” In his chapter on Machiavelli it is presented as a question: “Must we not admit that human wisdom is unable to settle this question and that every answer is based on an act of faith?” Similarly, at the end of “Progress or Return?” Strauss says, “If one can say colloquially, the philosophers have never refuted revelation and the theologians have never refuted philosophy, that would sound plausible, considering the enormous difficulty of the problem from any point of view” (1953, 75, 1983, 210, 1997b, 131). More precisely, Strauss concludes in the 1962 “autobiographical” preface to Spinoza’s Critique of Religion, Other observations and experiences confirmed the suspicion that it would be unwise to say farewell to reason. I began therefore to wonder whether the self-destruction of reason was not the inevitable outcome of modern rationalism as distinguished from pre-modern rationalism, especially Jewishmedieval rationalism and its classical (Aristotelian and Platonic) foundation. (1997a, 31)4 The failure of modern rationalism to meet the challenge of revelation led Strauss to turn to premodern rationalism. Philosophy was originally confronted with the challenge of divine law, but the challenge became much more acute according to Strauss when, starting in medieval times, it was confronted with the challenge of the Bible. Instead of being confronted with a multitude of contradictory myths and divine laws given by a multitude of gods subject to fate or necessity, philosophy was confronted with a divine law that rejected myths and their multitude of gods and that was given instead by one mysterious, omniscient, and omnipotent creator God not subject to fate or necessity, a God who provides knowledge of the good, demands faith and obedience, and punishes man’s attempt to attain knowledge of the good by himself (1997b, 119; Meier 2006, 148–149).5

Historicism For Strauss the most radical challenge in his time to the very possibility of philosophy in its original sense was what he calls “historicism.” According to Strauss, philosophy in its original sense is concerned with natures and universal questions, and political philosophy in particular is concerned with the nature of political things and the best political order, as distinguished from historical questions about particular groups, human beings, civilizations, and processes. Historicism in contrast denies this distinction, attempts to fuse philosophy and history, and eventually regards all human thought including philosophy as essentially subject to limitations from its historical situation that cannot be known or overcome (1988b, 56–57, 1953, 21). Thus, the problem of history may be “identical with the problem of the nature of philosophy itself” (1988a, 151).

24  Nathan Tarcov Strauss insists that historicism must be applied to itself, that it cannot assert that its claim about the historicity of human thought is the one trans-historical exception; rather than being the product of its own historical situation. The theoretical historicism that claimed to be trans-historical must give way to the radical historicism (of Heidegger) that asserts that this claim is a dispensation of fate (1988b, 72–73, 77, 1953, 24–29). Strauss denies that historicism can be the outcome of unbiased historical study of the history of human thought or history of philosophy; it would have to depend instead on a philosophical critique of human thought. Historical study could show only that philosophers of the past have disagreed and that there is some relation between their writings and their historical situations, but that result does not rule out the possibility that one of them may have discovered the truth in a historical situation especially favorable to its discovery. Strauss’s own historical studies are meant to show that, on the contrary, despite the manifest disagreements among past philosophers, the same fundamental problems persist. To determine the relation of the thought of past philosophers to their historical situations, let alone to determine their truth or falsehood, one would first have to understand them historically, that is, understand their thought as they understood it themselves. Thus, perhaps surprisingly, Strauss is a defender and practitioner of historical understanding as the necessary means for a critique of and liberation from historicism. Strauss argues that historicism is constitutionally incapable of genuine historical understanding of the non-historicist thought of the past, of understanding it as it understood itself, because historicism necessarily attempts to understand the non-historicist thought of the past better than it understood itself, understanding it in relation to its historical situation, whereas it understood itself as being the truth (1988b, 62–64, 66–69, 77, 1953, 19–20, 23–24, 32, 33, 1989b, 209–211). Strauss concludes that our urgent need to understand the issue between historicism and non-historicist philosophy can be satisfied only by non-­ historicist historical studies both of non-historicist philosophy and of the genesis of historicism, such as Strauss himself attempts to provide in Natural Right and History and elsewhere (1953, 33, 1988a, 155–158). He argues that the historicist’s experience of genuinely understanding and thereby revitalizing the non-historicist thought of the past despite his initial conviction that human thought is an expression of its time would amount to the “self-­ destruction of historicism” (1988a, 158; Meier 2006, 121–122). It is therefore a complete misunderstanding to conclude from Strauss’s critique of historicism that he was opposed to historical studies. On the contrary, he saw historical studies as always needed for political philosophy to raise the question of the nature of political things and to prevent it from mistaking the features of its time and place for that nature, and as especially urgently needed in his time to liberate one from the dogma of historicism. In addition, Strauss allows that the modern philosopher especially has to reflect on his own historical situation to emancipate himself from its prejudices as far as possible (1988b, 56–57, 70–71).

Strauss and political philosophy  25

Hermeneutics Strauss distinguishes sharply between historical questions and philosophical questions, between interpretation and criticism, between determining what an author meant and determining whether what he meant is true. This should not be taken, however, to imply that he thought these activities could be strictly separated in practice. On the one hand, the discussion above of his critique of historicism has already shown how he thought historical studies could assist philosophical inquiries. On the other hand, the history of philosophy needs a philosophical incentive if it is to succeed in understanding past thinkers as they understood themselves: “To understand a serious teaching, we must be seriously interested in it, we must take it seriously, i.e., we must be willing to consider the possibility that it is simply true” (ibid., 68, 1988a, 8, 151–152). Strauss writes, if we want to understand the philosophers of the past, we must be guided by the same basic interest which guided them: the interest in the truth, in the truth about the whole, and not the historical interest, the interest in the opinions of other people. (2006, 121) The historical activity of interpretation of the thought of a thinker of the past also involves the philosophic activity of thinking the author’s thought.6 The aspect of Strauss’s hermeneutics that has drawn the most attention is his thesis about the need for “reading between the lines” when seeking to understand the works of great writers of the past who employed “writing between the lines,” that is, his distinction between the exoteric teaching and the esoteric teaching of such authors. The exoteric teaching was an edifying one suitable for the non-philosophic majority; the esoteric teaching was a philosophic one suitable for potential philosophers. The avoidance of persecution was only “the most obvious and the crudest reason” for such exoteric writing. Because opinion is the element of society and because philosophy is the attempt to replace opinion with knowledge, not only is philosophy in danger from society, but society is in danger from philosophy. Philosophers who subscribed to this view therefore wrote in such a way as to protect philosophy from society and society from philosophy. But the highest reason for employing such writing, according to Strauss, was pedagogical, to lead potential philosophers step-by-step from their initial opinions and over the obstacles to pursuit of the truth (1988a, 17–18, 24–26, 34–37, 1988b, 221–222). The phenomenon of exoteric writing as described by Strauss provides support for his critique of historicism. The apparent acceptance of the orthodox or conventional views of their age by philosophers of the past is often taken to prove the thesis of historicism that all human thought is an expression of the spirit or ruling opinions of its age. Strauss argues to the contrary that such acceptance is often only exoteric accommodation to those opinions masking esoteric criticism of them (1988b, 63–64, 227).7

26   Nathan Tarcov It is a mistake to regard Strauss’s hermeneutic as an example of “textualism,” as if he posits that a text can be understood without any attention to its historical context. Strauss attempts to read texts by great writers in their contexts, but he tries to take their authors as the guides to those contexts rather than inserting them into contexts constructed by our contemporary scholars, who assume that great writers of the past must have been concerned only with their contemporaries rather than with the classic predecessors they cite or the posterity they invoke. Strauss writes, for example, of Spinoza: we need for the understanding of his books such information as is not supplied by him and as is not easily available to every reasonable reader regardless of time and place. But we must never lose sight of the fact that information of this kind cannot have more than a strictly subordinate function, or that such information has to be integrated into a framework authentically or explicitly supplied by Spinoza himself.… Such extraneous knowledge can never be permitted to supply the clue to his teaching except after it has been proved beyond any reasonable doubt that it is impossible to make head or tail of his teaching as he presented it. Strauss concedes further that since the traditional terminology of philosophy that Spinoza employed has become obsolete, the present-day reader must learn the rudiments of a language Spinoza took for granted as familiar to his contemporaries. More generally Strauss admits that the interpreter has to reconstruct the indispensable “background,” but in his work of reconstruction the interpreter must follow the signposts erected by Spinoza himself and, secondarily, the indications which Spinoza left accidentally in his writings. He must start from a clear vision, based on Spinoza’s explicit statements, of Spinoza’s predecessors as seen by Spinoza. (1988a, 159–161)8 Strauss’s own interpretations often involve detailed comparisons between the text he is interpreting and its “sources.” His employment of “reading between the lines” makes it especially imperative to pay careful attention to the writer’s context, to the authorities, sacred texts, and ruling opinions of his society and to his potential allies in confronting them. Strauss’s hermeneutic including his controversial distinction between the exoteric and the esoteric teachings of many great Western writers may also be useful in the interpretation of classic Asian works.

Ancients and moderns One of Strauss’s most distinctive claims is that of reopening the quarrel of the ancients and the moderns. It is difficult to determine with precision how the issues between them are articulated in Strauss’s presentations. Among the ancients he is

Strauss and political philosophy  27 chiefly concerned with what he calls classical political philosophy, the tradition founded by Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle and continued by their medieval followers, rather than with, for example, that of Epicurus and L ­ ucretius. Classical political philosophy best exemplifies Strauss’s conception of political philosophy sketched above; both relating directly to and transcending political life, it is a quest for the best regime that lacks actuality and thereby serves as a standard revealing the imperfection of all actual regimes. In his synoptic presentation in “What Is Political Philosophy?” Strauss writes that there is a fundamental agreement among the classical political philosophers that “the goal of political life is virtue, and the order most conducive to virtue is the aristocratic republic, or else the mixed regime.” Similarly, he remarks there that “the classics rejected democracy because they thought that the aim of human life, and hence of social life, is not freedom but virtue”; Plato for example was concerned both with the possibility of philosophy and with a stable political order conducive to moderate ­political courses (1988b, 36, 40). Strauss claims that despite “the great variety of fundamentally different political philosophies” in modernity, they have “a fundamental principle in common,” which “can best be stated negatively: rejection of the classical scheme as unrealistic.” The closest Strauss comes in “What Is Political Philosophy?” to stating positively the character of modern political philosophy seems to be “the secular movement which tries to guarantee the actualization of the ideal, or to prove the necessary coincidence of the rational and the real, or to get rid of that which essentially transcends every possible human reality” (Strauss 1988b, 51). At least in the case of Machiavelli (whom, starting in the 1940s, Strauss presents as the founder of modern political philosophy), Strauss presents his principle as follows: one must lower the standards in order to make probable, if not certain, the actualization of the right or desirable social order or in order to conquer chance; one must effect a shift of emphasis from moral character to institutions. (Ibid., 40, 46–47) Insofar as modern political philosophers remain concerned with civic virtue, it would then be presented only as a means for preserving the desirable social order, not as the natural end of man or as the end that social order serves. Strauss explains the modern or Machiavellian rejection of the classical tradition as a reaction to the transformation of the classical tradition under the influence of Christianity. Man’s responsibility to and for his fellow creatures had been infinitely increased, and concern for their salvation led to religious persecution. An increase in inhumanity and cruelty appeared to be the unintended consequence of aiming too high, so that humanity seemed to require that the goals be lowered (ibid., 43–44). Strauss presents his critique of modernity in the first place as a response to what he calls “the crisis of the West.” According to this presentation the West

28  Nathan Tarcov has become uncertain of its purpose, the universal purpose proposed by modern political philosophy, a society of free and equal men and women based on the conquest of nature and enabling all to develop their faculties. The dominant authorities of positivism and historicism deny that reason can defend that purpose or make any universal judgment of good and evil. Strauss suggests that this conclusion was not altogether accidental, but the result of the whole modern development. As a result of the modern search for a substitute in institutions, economics, or the historical process for the premodern appeal to moral principles, eventually no standard was left. The modern tendency to separate reason from nature eventually led to the depreciation of reason and its inability to defend its own goodness (1978, 2–4, 6–7, 1997b, 97–98, 100–101). Strauss’s grand narrative of modernity is not, however, one of continuous decline. Not only did Machiavelli himself react to the transformation of the classical tradition that the classics themselves would have condemned, but Rousseau and Nietzsche, who ushered in the first and second crises of modernity, according to Strauss, conducted a return to classical antiquity as well as a more advanced modernity. The shaking of tradition by Nietzsche and Heidegger made the return to classical philosophy both necessary and possible (1953, 252–253, 31, 1978, 9, 1997b, 450). It is questionable whether Strauss’s detailed interpretations of the great modern political philosophers fit into his overall narrative of modernity.9 Strauss’s reopening of the quarrel between the ancients and the moderns is meant to make it an open question, not one definitively decided in favor of the ancients. He presents the return to classical political philosophy as “both necessary and tentative or experimental” (1978, 11). By looking from the perspective of classical political philosophy, Strauss makes possible a critique of Western modernity, a critique that is no longer modern but still Western, or to put it in substantive rather than chronological or geographical terms, a critique of modern rationalism that is still rationalist in contrast to the rejection of rationalism that characterizes much of what is called postmodernism. Strauss’s return is theoretical, not practical, a return to classical political philosophy, not to the classical polis. He writes: We cannot reasonably expect that a fresh understanding of classical political philosophy will supply us with recipes for today’s use. For the relative success of modern political philosophy has brought into being a kind of society wholly unknown to the classics, a kind of society to which the classical principles as stated and elaborated by the classics are not immediately applicable. Only we living today can possibly find a solution to the problems of today. (Ibid.) In this respect he parts company with political theorists who invoke classical republicanism or an ancient ideal of the vita activa.

Strauss and political philosophy  29

Liberalism and conservatism In this final section I turn to Strauss’s stances toward more parochial American concerns, American liberalism, and conservatism. To discuss Strauss and liberalism I must first distinguish several different meanings of the term as Strauss uses it, taking my guidance chiefly from his 1968 preface to Liberalism Ancient and Modern. First, there is liberalism as the term is used in contemporary American political life as opposed to conservatism. Strauss explains that Here and now [meaning in the United States in 1968] a man who is in favor of the war on poverty and opposed to the war in Vietnam is generally regarded as doubtlessly a liberal, and a man who is in favor of the war in Vietnam and opposed to the war on poverty is generally regarded as doubtlessly a conservative. (Strauss 1995b, vii) (The war on poverty was the signature feature of Lyndon Johnson’s domestic policy.) The second meaning of liberalism to which Strauss points in that preface is liberal democracy, the kind of regime or society defended by both American liberals and American conservatives. At the end of his “Epilogue” to Essays on the Scientific Study of Politics, reprinted in Liberalism Ancient and Modern, he parenthetically explains the democracy of liberal democracy as based on “free elections based on universal suffrage” and gives as an example of the liberalism of liberal democracy, “the unqualified freedom of such speech as does not constitute a clear and present danger” (ibid., 233).10 More generally, Strauss explains that the liberal state “stands or falls by the distinction between state and society or by the recognition of a private sphere, protected by the law but impervious to the law” (ibid., 230). Strauss characterizes American liberals by their aspiration toward a society or federation that would be universal and classless, in contrast to conservatives’ greater sympathy for “the particular or particularist and the heterogeneous” and their greater willingness to “respect and perpetuate a more fundamental diversity than the one ordinarily respected or even taken for granted by liberals” (ibid., viii). While liberalism seems to share with communism the ultimate goal of a universal and classless society, Strauss notes, the way toward it for liberalism in contradistinction to communism is preferably democratic or peaceful and the goal itself differs in keeping sacred “the right of everyone, however humble, odd, or inarticulate, to criticize the government, including the man at the top” (ibid., vii‒viii). The political universalism of liberals, Strauss writes, is “founded on the universalism proceeding from reason.” He notes, however, that American liberals are in danger of ignoring the decay of the Western rationalist tradition their liberalism derives from and depends on. Strauss writes that contemporary conservatism and liberalism have in the last analysis a common root with communism if one goes back to “the origin of

30   Nathan Tarcov modernity … to the quarrel between the ancients and the moderns” (ibid., ix). He thereby suggests another meaning of liberalism: liberalism as a political theory or doctrine that defends such liberal societies. Strauss writes, for example: If we may call liberalism that political doctrine which regards as the fundamental political fact the rights, as distinguished from the duties, of man and which identifies the function of the state with the protection or the safeguarding of those rights. (1953, 181–182) Strauss contrasts modern liberalism with what he calls being liberal in the “premodern sense” or in “the original sense of the term” (1995b, ix‒x). Strauss explains that to be liberal in the original sense means to practice the virtue of liberality or more generally to be virtuous. Strauss moves rapidly in the preface from this original pre-philosophic meaning of liberal as virtuous to the liberalism of classical political philosophy, which is “guided by the awareness that all men seek by nature, not the ancestral or traditional, but the good” (ibid., x). Strauss sometimes refers to “religious liberalism” (ibid., 238), which tries to update traditional religious orthodoxy in the light of modern science and modern liberalism and leaves the choice up to individual judgment rather than tradition. We have therefore a wide range of meanings of liberal or liberalism: (1) American liberalism, a kind of political partisanship; (2) liberal democracy, a kind of political regime; (3) modern liberalism, a kind of political theory or doctrine deriving from modern political philosophy; (4) the original premodern, pre-philosophic meaning of being liberal as a virtue; (5) the liberalism of classical political philosophy, a kind of political philosophy; and (6) religious liberalism, a kind of religion or theology. Strauss concludes his “Notes on Schmitt’s Concept of the Political” of 1932 by declaring that Schmitt’s “critique of liberalism occurs in the horizon of liberalism,” and that “a radical critique of liberalism” can be completed “only if one succeeds in gaining a horizon beyond liberalism.” Strauss does not make explicit there what that broader horizon might be. In the 1962 preface to Spinoza’s Critique of Religion, Strauss writes that “the change of orientation” that liberated him from historicism “found its first expression” in his “Notes on Schmitt” (2007a, 122, 1997a, 31).11 That change of orientation had, however, already found a fuller, though unfinished and unpublished expression in his draft of a lecture entitled “The Religious Situation of the Present,” to be delivered at a Zionist youth retreat in December 1930 (Strauss 1997c, 377–391).12 Strauss declares there that the  question is what is the right life, first posed by Socrates, and that the

Strauss and political philosophy   31 ­ nlightenment (closely associated with modern liberalism) achieved only the E freedom of answering but not the freedom of asking this question. The broader horizon beyond liberalism from which Strauss could attempt a radical critique of modern liberalism was precisely this return to the possibility of asking the Socratic question. His fundamental dissatisfaction with the doctrine of modern liberalism was that it closed off the asking of this question of the good life, replacing it with considerations of rights and interests. He made this objection even against those versions of modern liberalism that take their bearings by the voluntary essence of genuine virtue rather than utilitarian virtue, versions that maintain “not because virtue is unimportant but because it is lofty and sublime, the state must be indifferent to virtue and vice as such,” which leads to the consequence that virtue and religion become private (1978, 32–33, 38–41). Strauss’s dissatisfaction with the doctrine of modern liberalism and his consequent turn to classical political philosophy did not, however, lead him to reject the regime of liberal democracy (cf. Behnegar 1995, 251–267; Smith 2006, 104–107; Galston 2009, 193–214). In the context of the Cold War Strauss stresses “the qualitative difference, which amounts to a conflict, between liberal democracy and Communism” (1995b, 214). He did not think liberal democracy was feasible everywhere and had little hope for liberal democracy in Germany, for example, at the time of his letter to Karl Löwith of May 19, 1933, or of his lecture on the re-education of Germany of November 7, 1943. Despite what he calls the “very complex pros and cons regarding liberal democracy” (ibid., 223), he nonetheless argued that “liberal or constitutional democracy comes closer to what the classics demanded than any alternative that is viable in our age” and that liberal democracy derives powerful support from the premodern thought of the Western tradition (2007b, 530–538, 2000, 194, 1989a, 98, [2001] 2008, 624–625). Strauss’s appreciation of modern liberal democracy as a kind of regime or society was based on the liberalism of classical political philosophy rather than on the doctrines of modern liberalism. Even Strauss’s reservations or concerns about contemporary democracy may well be considered liberal. He warns that American society suffers from a “tendency toward homogeneity or conformism, that is, toward the suppression by nonpolitical means of individuality and diversity; all Americans are to be remolded in the likeness of ‘the typical American.’ ” Similarly, he laments the very dangerous tendency to identify the good man with the good sport, the cooperative fellow, the “regular guy,” i.e., an overemphasis on a certain part of social virtue and a corresponding neglect of those virtues which mature, if they do not flourish, in privacy, not to say in solitude: by educating people to cooperate with each other in a friendly spirit, one does not yet educate non-conformists, people who are prepared to stand alone, to fight alone, “rugged individualists.” (1995b, 262–263; 1988b, 38)

32   Nathan Tarcov Strauss’s concern over conformism on behalf of privacy, individuality, and diversity is liberal in both its classical and its modern senses. In recent years Leo Strauss has been identified as one of the chief sources of contemporary American conservative thought and politics.13 I leave it to intellectual historians to determine the degree of influence that various understandings and misunderstandings, appropriations and misappropriations, uses and misuses of Strauss’s thought may have had on the diverse strands of American conservative thought and politics. I will limit myself to trying to determine Strauss’s own stance toward, and some of the possible implications of his thought for, American conservative thought and politics. According to Strauss, American conservatives, in contrast to liberals, “regard the universal and homogeneous state as either undesirable, though possible, or as both undesirable and impossible” (1995b, viii). This is not because they are nationalists, for he says they do not deny the necessity or desirability of larger units than the nation-state; they do not necessarily oppose, for example, a united free Europe. Nor is it because they are imperialists, which “for good or ill,” he says without further explanation, they can no longer be. It is rather because they “look with greater sympathy than liberals on the particular or particularist and the heterogeneous” or at least are more willing “to respect and perpetuate a more fundamental diversity” than liberals are. Strauss traces conservatives’ sympathy for particularism to their distrust of reason or trust in tradition. He therefore regards conservatism as “exposed to criticism guided by the notion of the unity of truth” (ibid., viii‒ix). In this fundamental respect, philosophy as rational pursuit of the truth was for Strauss at odds with conservatism. He criticized “the eminent conservatives who founded the historical school” for “denying the significance, if not the existence, of universal norms” and thereby destroying “the only solid basis of all efforts to transcend the actual” (1953, 14–17). The opposition between conservative distrust of reason or trust in tradition and philosophic reliance on reason or questioning of tradition does not necessarily imply, however, that the conservative stance is inappropriate to politics. Strauss asks, “Is the conservatism which is generally speaking the wise maxim of practice the sacred law of theory?” (1995b, 250; see also 14) Strauss says conservatism is the wise maxim of practice only “generally speaking.” The conservatism he discusses here was not “literalist traditionalism” but rather “the loyal and loving reshaping or reinterpretation of the inherited.” Strauss warns that “maxims which were justified by the uncontested experience of decades, and even of centuries or millenniums, may have to be revised because of unforeseen changes” (ibid., 213). Conservatism as adherence to tradition needs to be supplemented and corrected by prudence or universal reason. Strauss moves “closer to the surface” to say that conservative distrust of the universal and homogeneous state is rooted in distrust of change, whereas liberals believe in progress. American conservatism is in the awkward position of opposing change in a country that “came into being through a revolution, a violent change or break with the past.” He notes that when the opposition between conservatives and liberals first arose (in early nineteenth-century Europe), the

Strauss and political philosophy   33 substance was very different: conservatives stood for “throne and altar,” liberals for popular sovereignty and the private character of religion. He notes that “conservatism in this sense is no longer politically important.” The conservatism of our age, in contrast, Strauss writes, is “identical with what originally was liberalism, more or less modified by changes in the direction of present-day liberalism” (ibid., ix). Strauss ascends from the contemporary opposition between liberals and conservatives to what he regards as the more fundamental quarrel between the ancients and the moderns. He first invokes the original meaning of “liberal” as practicing the virtue of liberality or the virtues more generally, and then turns to the liberalism of classical political philosophy (ibid., ix‒x). Classical political philosophy is not conservative in the sense of trusting in tradition, though it could adopt “a conservative posture” by showing respect for tradition while understanding the need prudently and rationally to transcend, reshape, and depart from tradition. Rather than the conservative principles of trust in tradition and distrust of change, classical political philosophy opposes “a substantive principle” to the universal homogenous state. It asserts that a closed society is natural to man, a society that “rests on a particular fundamental opinion which cannot be replaced by knowledge and hence is of necessity a particular or particularist society” (ibid., x). The practical particularism derived from classical political philosophy that Strauss opposes to a universal and homogenous state is based not on trust in tradition or distrust of reason, but on recognition of the fragility of freedom and the persistence of evil (Strauss 1953, 131–132, 1978, 5–6). The traditionalism I have discussed so far is only one of several major strands of contemporary American conservative thought and politics, sometimes intertwined and sometimes going their separate ways: cultural conservatism, free market conservatism, libertarianism, social conservatism, populist conservatism, and “hardline” foreign policy. I will hazard a few cursory tentative remarks about the relation of Strauss’s thought to each of these. Strauss is often associated with those cultural conservatives who see themselves as defending Western culture or the Western tradition. In the preface to Liberalism Ancient and Modern, Strauss warns that liberals, especially those who know that their aspirations have their roots in the Western tradition, are not sufficiently concerned with the fact that that tradition is ever more being eroded by the very changes in the direction of One World which they demand or applaud. (1995b, ix)14 He regards it, however, as characteristic of the typical historicism of the twentieth century, of which he was so critical, that the philosophic question of the right way of life had been replaced by “the ideals of Western civilization” (1988b, 59). Though Strauss defended liberal education, which had become “almost synonymous with the reading in common of the Great Books,” he

34   Nathan Tarcov advocated reading them not as the sources of our tradition but as reminders of human greatness, and he added that “the greatest minds to whom we ought to listen are by no means exclusively those of the West” (1995b, 3, 6, 7, 24). Strauss could not call for a return to our tradition as such because our tradition contains contradictory elements that require us to find our own bearings and think for ourselves (ibid., 7–8, 1997b, 104, 113, 1999, 367). Strauss’s characterization of Locke’s vision of the rational life as “the joyless quest for joy” and his dictum that “economism is Machiavellianism come of age” indicate his critical distance from free market conservatism. He seems to agree with the classics that the aim of social life is not freedom but virtue and that freedom “justifies itself by the pursuit of human excellence,” so he does not sound like a libertarian (1995b, 24, 64, 1953, 251, 131, 1988b, 49, 36; cf. Smith 2006, 171). For some of the reasons that Strauss seems to be at a critical distance from free market or libertarian conservatism, he might seem sympathetic to the concerns for virtue and religion of social conservatism. He suggests that concern for liberty should not preclude concern for virtue, but it is far from clear that what he meant by virtue had much to do with the preoccupations of social conservatives. I see no way of unequivocally determining the implications of Strauss’s thought for such issues of the social conservative agenda as homosexuality and abortion. The practical implications of Strauss’s lifelong theme of the theologicalpolitical problem are equally indefinite. On the one hand, the utility of religion for morality and hence for politics and the permanence of religion as an expression of deep human longings and fears suggest that policy should not aim at extirpating religion or expelling it from the public square. On the other hand, the hostility of revealed religion to reason and philosophy and the occasional disutility of religion for prudent politics suggest that politics should enjoy autonomy from religion (1953, 164, 1988b, 44). Strauss argued that the liberal state, which recognizes religion as part of the private sphere protected by but impervious to law, cannot solve the Jewish problem, but that this uneasy “solution” is superior to the communist alternative of the destruction of the liberal state and abolition of the private sphere (1995b, 230–231). There is a populist conservatism as well as a populist liberalism, though the people they invoke and the elites they rail against are different. Strauss’s critique of “mass democracy” leaves no doubt that he was not a populist (1995b, 5). He speaks highly of a liberally educated civil service (ibid., 18) and “a constitutional democracy adorned by an exemplary judiciary” (Murley and Alvis 2002, 193). His castigation of “creeping conformism and the ever-increasing invasion of privacy” is far from populism and resembles the social criticism of his time found on both the left and the right (Strauss 1988b, 37–38). An adequate sketch of the implications of Strauss’s work for foreign policy would require another essay.15 One should hardly expect his turn to classical political philosophy to yield specific guidance for foreign policy since he claimed that classical political philosophy is guided by questions concerning the

Strauss and political philosophy   35 inner structure of the political community, not its external relations (ibid., 84–85). The reason he gives for this, that “the ultimate aim of foreign policy [the survival and independence of the political community] is not essentially controversial,” his view that political society’s “most urgent and primary task is its self-preservation and … highest task is its self-improvement,” his recognition that military power matters and sometimes has to be used, and his distrust of a universal federation along the lines of the United Nations, all suggest a kinship with foreign policy “realists,” whether conservative or liberal, as well as with “unilateralists,” found currently mostly among conservatives. But he also thought that ideas and regimes and the moral differences between them matter, in his time these being the differences between Western liberal democracies and the Axis powers during World War II and the Soviet bloc during the Cold War. When writing about foreign policy he addressed not the United States, but the Allies during World War II and the West during the Cold War, as if the United States as a society accustomed to understand itself in relation to a universal purpose had to think of itself as part of a larger whole concerned with the survival of that whole (Strauss 1978, 2–6, 2007b, 530–538). His acceptance of the coexistence of opposed regimes rather than insisting on universal liberal democracy and his skepticism about the possibility of imposing liberal democracy on postwar Germany make me doubt he would have shared the sanguine views of some neoconservatives of the prospects for spreading liberal democracy through military conquest. He argued that civic morality necessarily suffers from the contradiction between warlike habits and the requirements of justice, between asserting that different rules apply in war than in peace and regarding as universally valid at least some rules said to apply only in peace (1953, 149, 160). His reminder of this tension is as far from asserting that we can ignore the requirements of justice as it is from urging us to neglect the exigencies of war. It is a strain to extrapolate what Strauss might have considered reasonable policies for our particular circumstances from his discussions of political philosophy, because he did not attempt to derive policies from his reflections on political philosophy, even on those few occasions when he did address particular policies. For Strauss, the philosopher is not a partisan of any actual regime or party or program, but an umpire between the parties and a critic of the actual in the light of the best. The philosopher acts as a good citizen of a decent actual regime, as Socrates did in democratic Athens, which he chose to live in and fight for and whose laws he obeyed (as he refused to do for the Thirty Tyrants), and as Strauss did in the United States (1988b, 80–81, 90, 2007c, 522). According to Strauss, the classical political philosopher leaves policy to prudent statesmen, who do not derive policy from political philosophy, but who may need the aid of political philosophers to protect them from erroneous political doctrines or theories that endanger prudence and claim to dictate policy. That was, I think, what Strauss was doing in criticizing the doctrines of modern liberalism. Strauss’s understanding of political philosophy and its role in the political community was very different from that of the political philosophers of our day who understand their task precisely as deriving particular policies or procedures

36   Nathan Tarcov for arriving at particular policies from their philosophical principles (cf. Meier 2006, 14–15). If one tries to turn Strauss into a political philosopher of that sort, one has missed the point. Leo Strauss was neither simply a conservative nor simply a liberal, but he can remind both conservatives and liberals of the permanent problems they are tempted to ignore.

Notes  1 I am grateful to Christopher Lynch and Robert Howse for their comments on an earlier version of this paper.  2 “One cannot know that one does not know without knowing what one does not know” (Strauss 1988b, 115).   3 Also: Plato never discusses any subject—be it the city or the heavens or numbers— without keeping in view the elementary Socratic question, ‘What is the right way of life?’ And the simply right way of life proves to be the philosophic life. (Strauss 1953, 156)   4 Similarly he wrote already in the 1935 introduction to Philosophy and Law: “This situation not only appears insoluble but actually is so, as long as one clings to the modern premises” (Strauss 1995c, 38). Thus, the presentation in “Progress or Return?” is of “the present-day argument” (Strauss 1997b, 123, 124, 127).   5 On the issue of the tension between reason and revelation, see the following: Leora Batnitzky (2009); David Janssens (2008); David Novak (1996); Steven B. Smith (1994); Daniel Tanguay (2007); and above all Heinrich Meier (2006).   6 On the issue of the relation between philosophy and history in Strauss’s work, see my “Philosophy and History: Tradition and Interpretation in the work of Leo Strauss,” Polity. 16:1 (Fall 1983), 5–29.   7 On this connection, see Arnaldo Momigliano (1997); and Arthur Melzer (2006).   8 See my “Philosophy and History,” 11–12.   9 See Heinrich Meier (2006). 10 “A clear and present danger” is the standard for limiting freedom of speech formulated by Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. in 1919 for the U.S. Supreme Court in Schenck v. United States 249 U.S. 47. 11 For reasons indicated in the next paragraph I conclude that by “first expression” here Strauss means first published expression. 12 An English translation by Anna Schmidt and Martin D. Yaffe appears in Yaffe (2014). 13 On Strauss and American conservatism, see Robert Devigne (1994); Shadia B. Drury (1997); Steven Lenzner (2003); Anne Norton (2004); Kenneth R. Weinstein (2004); Douglas Murray (2006); Francis Fukuyama (2006); Andrew Sullivan (2006); Thomas L. Pangle (2006); and Tarcov (2016). 14 See also “Progress or Return?” 101. 15 On this subject see Thomas G. West (2004); Smith (2006); Tarcov (2006); Robert Howse (2010, 2014).

Bibliography Batnitzky, Leora. 2009. “Leo Strauss and the ‘Theologico-Political Predicament,’ ” in The Cambridge Companion to Leo Strauss, edited by Steven B. Smith. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Strauss and political philosophy   37 Behnegar, Nasser. 1995. “The Liberal Politics of Leo Strauss,” in Political Philosophy and the Human Soul: Essays in Memory of Allan Bloom, edited by Michael Palmer and Thomas L. Pangle. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Devigne, Robert. 1994. Recasting Conservatism: Oakeshott, Strauss, and the Response to Postmodernism. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Drury, Shadia B. 1997. Leo Strauss and the American Right. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Fukuyama, Francis. 2006. America at the Crossroads: Democracy, Power, and the Neoconservative Legacy. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Galston, William. 2009. “Leo Strauss’s Qualified Embrace of Liberal Democracy,” in The Cambridge Companion to Leo Strauss, edited by Steven B. Smith. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Howse, Robert. 2010. “Man of Peace: Rehearing the Case Against Leo Strauss,” in The Legacy of Leo Strauss, edited by Tony Burns and James Connelly. Exeter: Imprint Academic. Howse, Robert. 2014. Leo Strauss: Man of Peace. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Janssens, David. 2008. Between Athens and Jerusalem: Philosophy, Prophecy, and Politics in Leo Strauss’s Early Thought. Albany: State University of New York Press. Lenzner, Steven. 2003. “Leo Strauss and the Conservatives,” Policy Review 118 (April and May 2003). Meier, Heinrich. 2006. Leo Strauss and the Theologico-Political Problem. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Melzer, Arthur. 2006. “Esotericism and the Critique of Historicism,” American Political Science Review 100:2, 279‒295. Momigliano, Arnaldo. 1997. “Hermeneutics and Classical Political Thought in Leo Strauss,” in Essays in Ancient and Modern Judaism, edited by Momigliano . Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Murley, John A. and Alvis, John E. (eds). 2002. “Letter to Willmoore Kendall, November 19, 1956,” Willmoore Kendall: Maverick of American Conservatives. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Murray, Douglas. 2006. Neoconservatism: Why We Need It. New York: Encounter Books. Norton, Anne. 2004. Leo Strauss and the Politics of American Empire. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Novak, David (ed.). 1996. Leo Strauss and Judaism: Jerusalem and Athens Critically Revisited. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Pangle, Thomas L. 2006. Leo Strauss: An Introduction to His Thought and Intellectual Legacy. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Plato. (1914) 1960. Apology of Socrates, in Plato with an English Translation, volume 1, Euthyphro, Apology, Crito, Phaedo, Phaedrus, edited by Harold North Fowler. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Smith, Steven B. 1994. “Leo Strauss: Between Athens and Jerusalem,” in Leo Strauss: Political Philosopher and Jewish Thinker, edited by Kenneth L. Deutsch and Walter Nicgorski. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Smith, Steven B. 2006. Reading Leo Strauss: Politics, Philosophy, Judaism. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1953. Natural Right and History. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. (1964) 1978. The City and Man. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

38   Nathan Tarcov Strauss, Leo. 1983. “Niccolo Machiavelli,” Studies in Platonic Political Philosophy. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. (1952) 1988a. Persecution and the Art of Writing. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. (1959) 1988b. What Is Political Philosophy? and Other Studies. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1989a. “The Three Waves of Modernity,” An Introduction to Political Philosophy: Ten Essays, Hilail Gildin (ed.). Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press. Strauss, Leo. 1989b. “Thucydides: The Meaning of Political History,” in The Rebirth of Classical Political Rationalism, edited by Thomas L. Pangle. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. (1958) 1995a. Thoughts on Machiavelli. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. (1968) 1995b. “An Epilogue,” Liberalism Ancient and Modern. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1995c. Philosophy and Law: Contributions to the Understanding of Maimonides and His Predecessors, tr Eve Adler. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Strauss, Leo. (1965) 1997a. Spinoza’s Critique of Religion. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1997b. “Progress or Return?,” in Jewish Philosophy and the Crisis of Modernity: Essays and Lectures in Modern Jewish Thought, edited by Kenneth Hart Green. Albany: State University of New York Press. Strauss, Leo. 1997c. “ ‘Religiöse Lage der Gegenwart,” in Strauss, Gesammelte Schriften, vol. 2: Philosophie und Gesetz—Frühe Schriften, edited by Heinrich Meier and Wiebke Meier. Stuttgart: J. B. Metzler. Strauss, Leo. 1999. “German Nihilism,” Interpretation 26:3 (Spring 1999). Strauss, Leo. (1961) (1991) 2000. On Tyranny. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. (1996) 2007a. “Notes on Carl Schmitt, The Concept of the Political,” trans. J. Harvey Lomax, in Carl Schmitt, The Concept of the Political. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 2007b. “The Re-education of Axis Countries Concerning the Jews,” Nathan Tarcov (ed.), Review of Politics 69:4 (Fall 2007). Strauss, Leo. 2007c. “What Can We Learn From Political Theory?,” Nathan Tarcov (ed.), Review of Politics 69:4 (Fall 2007). Sullivan, Andrew. 2006. The Conservative Soul: How We Lost It, How to Get It Back. New York: HarperCollins. Tanguay, Daniel. 2007. Leo Strauss; An Intellectual Biography. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Tarcov, Nathan. 1983. “Philosophy and History: Tradition and Interpretation in the Work of Leo Strauss,” Polity 16:1 (Fall 1983). Tarcov, Nathan. 2006. “Will the Real Leo Strauss Please Stand Up?,” The American Interest, 2:1. Tarcov, Nathan. 2010. “Philosophy as the Right Way of Life in Natural Right and History,” in Modernity and What Has Been Lost: Considerations on the Legacy of Leo Strauss, edited by Pawel Armada and Arkadiusz Górnisiewicz. Krakow: Jagiellonian University Press. Tarcov, Nathan. 2016. “Leo Strauss and American Conservative Thought and Politics,” in Nomos: American Conservatism, edited by Sanford V. Levinson, Joel Parker, and Melissa Williams. New York: New York University Press.

Strauss and political philosophy   39 Weinstein, Kenneth R. 2004. “Philosophic Roots, the Role of Leo Strauss, and the War in Iraq,” in The Neocon Reader, edited by Irwin Stelzer. New York: Grove Press. West, Thomas G. 2004. “Leo Strauss and American Foreign Policy,” Claremont Review of Books 4:3. Yaffe, Martin D. and Richard S. Ruderman (eds. and trans. Anna Schmidt and Martin  D. Yaffe). 2014. Reorientation: Leo Strauss in the 1930s. New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

3 Leo Strauss and the East–West dialogue Haig Patapan

In May 1601 Matteo Ricci, Jesuit priest and one of the founders of the Catholic missions of China was invited to be adviser to the Ming Emperor Wanli of China, becoming the first Westerner to visit the Forbidden City in Peking. Ricci remained in Peking until his death in 1610 and by special dispensation was buried there. One of the first Western scholars to master classical Chinese, Ricci is famous for his world maps, Chinese translations of Euclid, and importantly, for introducing Western science, especially mathematics and astronomy, to the Middle Kingdom.1 He also contributed significantly to the introduction of Chinese thought to Europe with his Latin translation of ­Confucian works.2 This early and remarkable example of East–West dialogue is not unique.3 Consider, for example, Yen Fu, scholar and translator, who after Japan’s victory over China in 1895, argued that Western wealth and power was founded not on technological innovations but on ideas and institutions, and therefore sought to introduce Western political thought to China. His summaries and translations of seminal Western works, including those of T. H. Huxley, J. S. Mill, Adam Smith, Spencer and Montesquieu, had a great influence on subsequent Chinese political thought (see generally Schwartz 1964; Shaw 2016). But perhaps the most striking example of the East–West dialogue is the People’s Republic of China itself, which came into being in 1949 after a protracted civil war and was founded on Western Marxist-­ Leninist principles by its revolutionary leader Mao Zedong. Mao was introduced to Marxism by the founders of the Chinese Communist Party, who were on the faculty of Peking University, an institution originally established in 1898 as Capitol College by the Qing Emperor Guangxu to modernize and reform China’s imperial system. These examples of philosophical and political exchanges are of course not confined to China. There is a long history of dialogue between East and West that has taken many forms—philosophical, literary, legal, and political. The subtle and complex nature of the East–West dialogue can be seen in its diverse articulations, from the influence of Hindu sacred texts on German Idealists (such as Schelling, Fichte, and Hegel) and English Romantic poets (including C ­ oleridge, Shelley, and Byron), to the contribution of German jurisprudential thought on Japanese, Chinese, and Thai constitutionalism, to the Daoist and Hindu influence

Strauss and the East–West dialogue  41 on leading figures of modern quantum theory, such as ­Wolfgang Pauli, Niels Bohr, Werner Heisenberg, and Erwin Schrödinger (see generally Clarke 1997). The East–West dialogue we have noted above prompts us to ask about the possible role of Leo Strauss in this conversation. What contribution, if any, did Strauss make to this dialogue? Reflecting on the political philosophic thought of Leo Strauss in general it would seem that Strauss did not directly engage in or contribute to such a dialogue. Having completed his doctoral work in Hamburg in 1921, Strauss left Germany in 1932 to finally settle in the United States in 1937, where he taught principally at The New School for Social Research in New York and later The University of Chicago.4 Strauss’s scholarship had an extraordinary breadth. He examined classical political philosophy, especially Plato and Xenophon, but also Aristotle, Thucydides, Aristophanes, and others. His research also engaged the writings of famous Jewish and Islamic Medieval philosophers, including Avicenna, Farabi, and Maimonides. But he is perhaps best known for his investigation into modern political thought, from M ­ achiavelli, ­Spinoza, and Hobbes, to the late moderns including Nietzsche, and especially his contemporaries such as Schmitt and Heidegger. This general overview would suggest that though we have extensive Straussian reflections on the tradition of Western philosophy in its most comprehensive or synoptic sense, Strauss did not engage with Eastern political thinkers or thought. Does this mean that Strauss has nothing to contribute to the East–West dialogue? Though not having written directly on Eastern philosophy, I will argue that Strauss can make an important contribution to this conversation. To examine this claim, and to suggest the different forms this contribution may take, I want to pose two separate but related questions. The first is to ask what students of Eastern thought can gain in engaging with or confronting the works of Strauss? The second and related question is, what can students of Western thought familiar with the writings of Strauss learn from engaging with Eastern philosophy? In the discussion below I first take up the question of how students of Eastern thought may benefit from engaging with Strauss by posing the problem or question of “modernity.” In the first instance, it would seem that our unreserved endorsement of the benefits of modernity elicits a powerful commitment to its political and philosophical foundations, both in the East and West. At the same time, however, there are increasingly profound questions raised concerning the claims and ambitions of modernity that pose a formidable challenge to modernity itself. Because modernity and the “crisis” of modernity form such an important part of Strauss’s thought, students of modern philosophy, especially those from the East, will benefit from his reflections on the extent and seriousness of such a crisis. In the second part of the chapter I take up the question of what students of Western thought, especially those familiar with Strauss, may gain from engaging in the East–West dialogue. Here I will argue that Eastern thought provides a rich philosophical tradition and therefore a valuable means for students of Western thought to interrogate and test their insights into major questions of political philosophy. These include the fundamental question of the relationship of the individual to the community and the problems it may raise

42  Haig Patapan regarding philosophical education, the problem of “nature” and its implications for “natural right” and philosophy, and finally, the tension between piety and philosophy evident in Western thought and its presence in the East. My overall argument is that Strauss provides an important modern articulation of some of the most profound philosophical challenges presently confronting political philosophy in both East and West and therefore makes an important contribution to the East–West dialogue that will benefit all students of political philosophy.

West-East dialogue: the problem of modernity A cursory examination of contemporary politics in Asia yields a curious observation: Asian politics does not immediately or obviously seem to reflect or reveal the influence of the great traditions of Eastern thought. For some it is still possible to see such an influence, even if more evident in a mixture or amalgam of Eastern thought and Western innovation. But for most there is less ambiguity— the case has been decided in favor of the West. Leaving aside social and cultural practices and traditions, frequently struggling against the tide and too often retained as touristic and historical curiosities, there appears to be nothing specifically “Asian” in Asia. Consider, for example, the Marxist, that is Western, thought that until recently dominated the major countries in the region. It is true that Marxism has been largely repudiated or is under challenge in these countries, displaced by what appears to be an indigenous or autochthonous nationalism. The allure and power of nationalism in Asia, albeit in a variety of forms or aspects, cannot be denied, but one must equally concede that nationalism itself is an adopted concept, tracing its origins to the West. Comparable arguments can be made regarding the increasing authority of democracy and liberal constitutionalism in the region. This Western influence, and perhaps dominance, may be more accurately seen to be an aspect of “modernity,” a consequence of the Enlightenment that favors foundational conceptions of progress, universal and equal rights, separation of church and state, combined with free markets sustained by scientific innovation. Whatever the specific circumstances affecting the reception of these Western or modern ideas in any one country in Asia, what seems evident and undeniable is the extent to which Western thought is ubiquitous in the East, or more provocatively, may be said to have comprehensively replaced or ousted Eastern thought in contemporary practice.5 Yet at the very height of modernity’s success and dominance in Asia, it is important to remind ourselves that in the West, the historical origin of modernity and where it is most advanced, there are profound philosophical reservations regarding its premises and promises. These range from concerns regarding the legitimacy of modern liberal constitutionalism, the apparently uncontrolled nature of global capitalism founded on modern technology or “technicity,” to questions as to the very possibility of reasoning itself—whether we have any sound basis for making claims regarding what is just or moral, or even asking such questions in the first place. If we can capture all these concerns under the general heading of the “crisis of the west,” then it seems reasonable to suppose

Strauss and the East–West dialogue   43 that those questions presenting formidable challenges to contemporary Western political philosophers will, sooner or later, also become a pressing concern for students of Eastern thought. Indeed, for some of the foremost Western philosophers who diagnosed these problems, the answers were to be found in the East—perhaps the best known example being Heidegger’s turn to Eastern philosophy (see Parkes 1990; May 1996). It should not surprise us, then, that contemporary students of Eastern thought familiar with these critiques have also turned to the East to repair what they see as the deficiencies of modernity.6 In addition to confirming the continuing importance of the East–West dialogue we have noted above, this scholarship underlines the salience of the crisis of the West theme in contemporary politics. It is in this context that Strauss can make an important contribution to the debate. Modernity is an important theme in Strauss’s scholarship. In his essay Three Waves of Modernity, Strauss (1964) argues that modernity is a radical modification of premodern thought, inaugurated by Machiavelli, followed by a second wave beginning with Rousseau, “who changed the moral climate of the west as profoundly as Machiavelli,” and finally by a third wave initiated by Nietzsche (Strauss 1964, 89, 94).7 Strauss’s overarching assessment of the trajectory of “modernity” is initiated by his view of a “crisis” of modernity. This crisis is on one level a consequence of contemporary political problems, because as Strauss notes, The crisis of modernity reveals itself in the fact, or consists in the fact, that modern Western man no longer knows what he wants—that he no longer believes that he can know what is good and bad, what is right and wrong. (Ibid., 81) But it soon becomes clear that what may appear to be a moral, cultural, or political crisis is primarily “the crisis of modern political philosophy” (ibid., 82).8 Modernity and the crisis of modernity is therefore more than a problem of contemporary politics; it is rather a profound challenge to philosophy, requiring an impartial and comprehensive examination of the works of modern political philosophers in the light of classical political thought. Students of Eastern thought would therefore benefit not only from Strauss’s understanding of the problem of modernity, but, importantly, from his detailed and close interpretation of modern political philosophers.9 An important aspect of this scholarship is evident in his comprehensive statement of the problem in Natural Right and History (1953), where Strauss diagnoses the crisis of modern natural right not only as a challenge to justice or natural right, but to philosophy itself.10 In Natural Right and History Strauss sees two major challenges to natural right and philosophy. The first is the contemporary social scientific distinction between facts and values, most clearly articulated by Max Weber.11 The second is the challenge posed by “history” or the historical approach. The seriousness of the challenge presented by radical historicism is evident not only from Strauss’s discussion in Natural Right and

44  Haig Patapan History, but also in his other works examining Nietzsche and poetry’s challenge to philosophy,12 and Heideggerian existentialism.13 Informing this confrontation with modernity is Strauss’s insights into the origins of Western political thought, in particular the possibility of the recovery of classical natural right and specifically Socratic zetetic or erotic philosophy. Strauss’s extensive examination of classical political thought, especially of Plato and Xenophon, but more generally his close readings of Aristotle, Thucydides, and Lucretius, provide provocative interpretations of these seminal thinkers.14 Strauss here shows how modernity can only be understood in the light of its confrontation with ancient philosophy, reanimating such an engagement to allow clearer understanding of the nature of the debate and the merits of the directions taken by modern philosophers. Students of Eastern thought will therefore not only find in Strauss a powerful articulation of the nature of the crisis of modernity, but also in his recovery of classical Western philosophy an opportunity to reassess these origins in the light of Eastern thought.

East–West dialogue: hermeneutics, natural right, and revelation Our discussion above has sought to show how students of Eastern political philosophy who will inevitably have to enter into the East–West dialogue may benefit from Strauss’s reflections on modernity. There are also benefits, however, for students of Western thought, especially those familiar with the works of Strauss, in confronting Eastern political philosophy. In the discussion below I explore three major themes for such dialogue and engagement: hermeneutics, natural right, and piety. Strauss, as we noted, did not directly engage in the East–West dialogue. But this lack of engagement did not represent a repudiation of Eastern thought; rather, it may in part be accounted for by the simple fact that he lacked sufficient command of Asian languages to do justice to Eastern political philosophy. But does one need the original language to explore the political thought of a specific thinker? Can we not rely on translations? Arguably a competent translation may be more than adequate for engaging with the thought of those who wrote in different languages.15 It is true, however, that in using translations one is always confronted with the problem of evaluating the competence of the translator—all translations, however faithful to the original, are only accurate to a greater or lesser degree, and to this extent we have to rely on the judgment of others regarding the fidelity of the translation and whether the meaning of important passages has been rendered with sufficient accuracy and sensitivity. Translations therefore inevitably force us to depend on others, to understand works mediately. As such they will unavoidably place a glass—more or less opaque or occluded depending on the translation—between a work and a reader. But for Strauss the problem of translations is also a question of hermeneutics and therefore raises larger philosophical problems. Leaving aside the profound question of whether some languages are inherently more philosophical or, indeed, “sacred,” writing at

Strauss and the East–West dialogue  45 best is only an approximation to personal philosophical discussion, where one can exercise discretion and judgment in conversation by taking into account the nature of one’s interlocutor. But writing, in addition to its inability to respond to questions, speaks to everyone. Thus truly philosophical writing will inevitably need an art of writing that allows the written work to, in a sense, answer questions posed to it, and speak to the different audiences.16 But to say this is to assume that there may be different audiences—that there is a fundamental difference between the philosopher and others, or, put somewhat differently, it is not possible to enlighten everyone. Therefore, at the core of the question of translation, or the need to have unmediated access to primary works of philosophy, is a deeper philosophical problem regarding the nature of philosophy and its place in the city. Perhaps one of the most well-known and arguably misunderstood aspects of Strauss’s thought has been his insight regarding the need to exercise care in the reading of philosophical works precisely because of this problem of the tension between the “city” and “man” (Strauss 1978, 1988; Melzer 2006, 2014). Strauss’s insistence that we must first understand a thinker as he understood himself, and we must read carefully, noting inconsistencies, repetitions and errors, have certainly sounded curious to those of us raised in the spirit of the “open society” and more familiar with the philosophical tradition of the “treatise” and “encyclopedia” than the dialogue. It is here that the East provides the first helpful challenge to students familiar with Western political thought. Our initial observation that Strauss did not write on Eastern philosophers therefore leads us to a deeper question on Strauss’s thought on the art of writing, and in doing so poses the question of whether these insights apply equally to the East. Did Eastern thinkers write esoterically? What is their understanding of the role of the “wise man,” or the sage? A close study of classical Eastern works will therefore provide an important test for the claim of esotericism, and its implicit understanding of the fundamental question of whether, and to what extent, we can all philosophize.17 A philosophical engagement with Eastern political thought also provides an important opportunity for exploring Strauss’s conception of philosophy itself. In Natural Right and History Strauss argues that the diversity in opinions regarding what is right or just is employed by conventionalists to argue there is no natural right (Strauss 1953, 9). Yet for Strauss the “realization of the variety of notions of right is the incentive for the quest for natural right” (Strauss 1953, 10; emphasis in original). The very diversity of views regarding what is just gives rise to the question or problem of whether there is a natural basis for right, and in doing so reveals the underlying question or problem of “nature.” The idea of natural right must be unknown as long as the idea of nature is unknown. The discovery of nature is the work of philosophy. Where there is no philosophy, there is no knowledge of natural right as such. (Strauss 1953, 81) Nature, or the idea of nature, remains a question for Strauss.18 This explains why Strauss turns to classical political philosophy: if Socrates “is said to have been

46   Haig Patapan the founder of political philosophy” he was also the “originator of the whole tradition of natural right teachings” (Strauss 1953, 120). But is the discovery of “nature” specific to Western tradition, and is it essential for the possibility of philosophy simply? And turning to the East, is there a conception of “nature” in Eastern political thought? Would this be definitive for our assessment of whether Eastern thought is “philosophical”? Related to these questions are those concerning the problem of natural right or justice. How has the question of natural right been posed in Eastern political thought? Are the answers proffered in the East comparable to those in the West? Or are they so radically different that they raise fundamental questions regarding Strauss’s understanding of philosophy? Finally, in the light of this argument, should we return to classical political rationalism or to the East in confronting the modern radical historicist challenges to natural rights? As these questions indicate, Strauss’s conception of natural right and philosophy provides a useful starting point for understanding Eastern thought, but in doing so it also presents a valuable means of confronting and evaluating his teaching.19 The final theme I want to explore concerns the question of piety, more specifically, the challenge revealed religion poses for philosophical thought. In a personal autobiographical statement that prefaces the English edition of his book on Spinoza, Strauss notes how he found himself “in the grip of the theological-political predicament” (Strauss 1965, 1; Meier 2006). In his discussion of Spinoza, Strauss notes that Spinoza dogmatically dismisses, rather than philosophically confronts the challenge posed by piety. The character of this confrontation between philosophy and piety, and its implications for each, therefore becomes an important theme in Strauss’s scholarship. This confrontation has a number of aspects. As noted, an important question for Strauss is whether modernity adequately repudiates piety. Equally important is the challenge piety presents to “pagan” or classical political philosophy. This challenge proves to be especially problematic in any attempt to return to or recover classical political thought. One way Strauss seeks to understand this question is by turning to medieval Jewish and Islamic scholars such as Maimonides and Farabi, students of Plato and Aristotle who were compelled to confront this problem as it manifested itself in their communities. The non-dogmatic common ground for such an engagement, it would seem, is the concern of both classical political philosophy and of revealed religion for natural right or justice. Or in the concluding words of The City and Man (Strauss 1978, 241), the all-important question of quid sit deus is coeval with philosophy. It is on this basis that Strauss, taking seriously Avicenna’s remark that the treatment of prophecy and divine law is contained in Plato’s Laws, seeks to explore the Platonic treatment of piety; his last work is an especially subtle commentary on Plato’s Laws (Strauss 1975; Meir 2014; Pangle 1993). This philosophical engagement with the challenge presented by piety allows Strauss to reflect on the nature of Western thought in general. In his well-known essay Jerusalem and Athens, Strauss (1983, 147–173) argues that the Western philosophical tradition has been shaped by two divergent sources, Jerusalem or

Strauss and the East–West dialogue  47 the tradition of piety, and Athens, or the Socratic tradition.20 What is notable about Strauss’s remarks is his observation that the vitality of thought in the West is due to the tension between these traditions. This observation prompts us to wonder what Strauss means by such “vitality” and what exactly in each tradition was the spring or engine for such dynamism. And importantly for our purposes, what are we to infer from this statement regarding non-Western traditions? Does Strauss mean to suggest that other traditions have resolved the tension between philosophy and piety? If they have, and are not therefore “dynamic,” does this mean that in their dogmatism they reveal the victory of piety over philosophy? Put somewhat generally and therefore inaccurately, is Eastern political thought fundamentally “religious,” however this term is understood? These questions make us wonder whether important aspects of political developments in the East and West can be explained in terms of this vitality. Perhaps the modern ambition to “conquer nature,” and therefore Western “science,” is not conceivable without the challenge of Abrahamic revealed religion? If so, can we speculate that it is the absence of Abrahamic religion in the East that explains why it did not embrace scientific “method” and “technology”?21 What then is the difference between Abrahamic piety and Eastern religion? These questions also allow us to ask once more, but in a different context, whether philosophy is historically contingent, shaped by accident and circumstance, or in an important sense transcends these limitations. Whatever the conclusions we may draw, these reflections, prompted by Strauss’s assessment of the complex nature of Western tradition, will direct the gaze of Western scholars to the East, and allow Eastern scholars to view their tradition in a new light.

Continuing the East–West dialogue Civilization scholars, informed by Hegel, usefully focus our attention on the different traditions that have informed and continue to shape and influence dealings between different communities, nations, and states. Yet their approach, precisely because it posits “civilization” or its variants, rather than political thought or political philosophy as the mediator for such engagement, will arguably always be constrained by the limitations imposed by demands for respect and especially “recognition” or honor. Indeed, to the extent that we are animated with the powerful thumotic desire to love and defend our “own,” whether as “East” or “West,” it is perhaps inevitable that the civilizational approach will foretell or issue in agonism.22 It is therefore not clear whether “civilization,” to the extent that it is not founded on excellence that transcends one’s own and therefore makes possible philosophical conversations, however constrained, tentative, or limited, can lead to true friendship and potentially political amity. In our brief discussion we have endeavored to acknowledge the complex and long-standing political philosophical nature of the East–West dialogue. In doing so we have also attempted to show how an engagement with the political philosophy of Leo Strauss provides a number of opportunities for continuing this dialogue. For scholars familiar with the Eastern tradition, Strauss allows a

48  Haig Patapan re-assessment of modernity in all its aspects. For Western scholars, Strauss directs our attention to those traditions not informed by the tension between Jerusalem and Athens, and in doing so invites a critical review not only of his understanding of the tradition, but, more fundamentally, the ambitious claims he makes in recovering the very possibility of political philosophy.

Notes   1 For Ricci’s scientific contribution see Bernard (1973); on his mnemonic technique see Spence (1984).   2 On the influence of Chinese thought on European thinkers, especially Malebranche, Bayle, Leibniz, Wolff, and Voltaire see Rowbotham (1945); Clarke (1997); Hobson (2004).   3 We will employ the terms “East” and “West” as only approximate or short-hand expressions, focusing in particular on the influence of Chinese thought in the “East” (on the use of such locutions see Hobson (2004); Metzger (2005); Parel and Keith (2003)). The limitations of employing geographical terms to capture different philosophical traditions can be seen when we reflect on the debt the European Renaissance owes to the Arab scholars who preserved the Greek tradition, literally in the form of manuscripts, and more generally through commentaries and summaries. Greek and Hellenistic philosophy, science, and medicine, along with Indian and Persian works in mathematics and literature, were preserved in the Near East and Persia due to the support of the Abbasid caliphate (750–1285). Thus, in the tenth and eleventh centuries translations and commentaries by al-Kindī, al-Rāzi, al-Fārābi, Avicenna, and others sustained this philosophical tradition. In addition, Muslim Spain (al-Andalus) and its capital, Cordova, began to vie with Baghdad as the center of learning, giving rise by the eleventh century to eminent philosophers such as Avempace, Ibn Ţufayl, and Averroes. Thus Cardova, and more generally Iberia, became a bridge across which Arab-Greek philosophy and science crossed into Western Europe. It was through the commentaries and translations of Averroes that Aristotle was introduced into Europe, making possible Latin scholasticism and ultimately the Renaissance.   4 Strauss was a research fellow at Columbia University in 1937. From 1938 to 1948 he was a member of the Graduate Faculty of the New School for Social Research. In 1949, Strauss joined The University of Chicago as a professor in the Department of Political Science, and in 1959 was appointed Robert Maynard Hutchins Distinguished Service Professor. He moved in 1968 to Claremont Men’s College for a year and a half, and in 1969 to St. John’s College-Annapolis, where he served as the Scott Buchanan Distinguished Scholar in Residence until his death in 1973. For general or introductory works on Strauss and his thought see Meir (2006); Smith (2006); Zuckert and Zuckert (2006); Pangle (2006); Tanguay (2007).   5 On the problem of legitimacy generally see Gilley 2009; on the nature of legitimacy in Asia see Kane, Loy, and Patapan (2011).   6 For recent attempts to draw on Confucianism to remedy, repair or even replace aspects of Western thought see Chen (2007); Bell (2008); Sole Farras (2013); Angle (2012); Tang (2015); and Kim (2014).   7 Machiavelli initiates the modern project according to Strauss. On the importance of “propaganda” for Machiavelli and his “anti-theological ire” and therefore his philosophical immoderation see Strauss’s Thoughts on Machiavelli (1965); Merrill (2000); Tarcov (2010).   8 See for example, the essays “What is Political Philosophy?” and “Political Philosophy and History” in What is Political Philosophy? (Strauss 1959), the collection of

Strauss and the East–West dialogue  49 essays in Liberalism Ancient and Modern (Strauss 1968) and The Rebirth of Classical Political Rationalism (Pangle 1989).   9 For a bibliography of Strauss see Pangle (1983, 249–258). For his collected works see: Leo Strauss: Gesammelte Schriften (Meir 2003). Strauss’s original work on Hobbes is The Political Philosophy of Hobbes, its Basis and its Genesis (Strauss 1952). For his subsequent re-assessment of Hobbes see, for example, the essay in What is Political Philosophy? (Strauss 1959), which includes works on Xenophon, Farabi, Maimonides, and Locke. His other book-length examinations of modern thinkers include Spinoza’s Critique of Religion (Strauss 1958); Thoughts on Machiavelli (Strauss 1965). 10 For thoughtful engagements with Natural Right and History see Kennington (1981); Lenzner (1991); Velkley (2011); and Pangle (2006). 11 On Weber and Strauss see Merrill (1999) and Behnegar (2003). 12 Strauss’s Socrates and Aristophanes (1966) consists of a detailed exploration of the plays of the Greek comic playwright Aristophanes. As the introduction notes, the discussion has significant implications for Nietzsche’s and therefore modern, political thought. On Strauss and Nietzsche see Lampert (1996). 13 See, for example, his essay “Philosophy as Rigorous Science and Political Philosophy” (in Strauss 1983); and the essays “Relativism and An Introduction to Heideggerian Existentialism” (Pangle 1989). 14 Consider the discussion of classic natural right in Natural Right and History (1953), the essays collected in Studies in Platonic Political Philosophy (Strauss 1983) and The Rebirth of Classical Political Rationalism (Pangle 1989); the City and Man (Strauss 1978) and his works on Xenophon (Strauss 1970, 1972). 15 Consider, for example, Saint Thomas Aquinas, who commissioned William of Moerbeke to provide a Latin translation of Aristotle. 16 See the discussion in Plato’s Phaedrus and the Laws regarding the limitations of writing and the need for written laws. Contrast the Platonic invention of the “dialogic form” as philosophical mediation between poetry and plays, and the modern reliance on the treatise. If taken seriously this argument suggests that individual conversation is essential for philosophy; that “books” will always be philosophically inadequate and therefore are to this extent a concession to the exigencies and vagaries of chance. 17 Consider, for example, the dialogic form of Confucius’s Analects, and the meaning of allusive or poetic accounts in the seminal works of Daoism, Hinduism, and Buddhism. 18 See chapter III of Natural Right and History and Kennington (1981) on Strauss’s specific use of “idea.” 19 For an introductory exploration of the themes of “nature,” “philosophy,” and “theology” in Asian and Islamic thought see Anastapolo (2002). 20 See Orr’s (1995) commentary on this essay, as well as Strauss’s essays in Part Three of The Rebirth of Classical Political Rationalism (Strauss 1989), the notes on Maimonides in Studies in Platonic Political Philosophy (Strauss 1983), and Pangle (2003). 21 See in this context the famous edict by the Qianlong Emperor repudiating Western technological innovations in the course of responding to the representations by Lord Macartney’s Mission to China in 1793. On Chinese metaphysics see Li and Perkins (2015). 22 On “civilization” see Toynbee (1970); Huntington (1996); and Patapan (2011).

References Anastaplo, George. 2002. But Not Philosophy: Seven Introductions to Non-Western Thought. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Angle, Stephen C. 2012. Contemporary Confucian Political Philosophy. Cambridge: Polity Press.

50  Haig Patapan Behnegar, Nasser. 2003. Leo Strauss, Max Weber, and the Scientific Study of Politics. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Bell, Daniel. 2008. China’s New Confucianism. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Bernard, Henri. 1973. Matteo Ricci’s Scientific Contribution to China. Trans. Edward Chalmers Werner. Westport, CT: Hyperion Press Inc. Chen, Joseph. 2007. “Democracy and Meritocracy: Toward a Confucian Perspective,” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 34:2, 179–193. Clarke, J. J. 1997. Oriental Enlightenment: The Encounter Between Asian and Western Thought. London: Routledge. Fakhry, Majid. 2001. Averroes (Ibn Rushd): His Life, Works and Influence. Oxford: Oneworld Publication. Fukuyama, Francis. 1992. The End of History and the Last Man. London: Penguin. Gilley, Bruce 2009. The Right to Rule: How States Win and Lose Legitimacy. New York: Columbia University Press. Hobson, John M. 2004. The Eastern Origins of Western Civilisation. Cambridge: ­Cambridge University Press. Huntington, Samuel P. 1996. The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of the World Order. New York: Simon & Schuster. Kane, John, Loy, H. C., and Patapan, Haig (eds). 2011. Political Legitimacy in Asia: New Leadership Challenges. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Kennington, Richard. 1981. “Strauss’s Natural Right and History,” The Review of Metaphysics 35:1, 57–86. Kim, Sungmoon, 2014. Confucian Democracy in East Asia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lampert, Laurence. 1996. Leo Strauss and Nietzsche. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Lenzner, Steven J. 1991. “Strauss’s Three Burkes: The Problem of Edmund Burke in Natural Right and History,” Political Theory 19:3, 364–390. Li, Chenyang and Perkins, Franklin. 2015. Chinese Metaphysics and its Problems. ­Cambridge: University of Cambridge Press. May, Reinhard. 1996. Heidegger’s Hidden Sources: East Asian Influences on His Work. Tr. Graham Parkes. London: Routledge. Meir, Heinrich (ed.). 2003. Leo Strauss: Gesammelte Schriften. Stuttgart: J. B. Metzler. Meir, Heinrich. 2006. Leo Strauss and the Theologico-political Problem. Trans. Marcus Brainard. New York: Cambridge University Press. Meir, Heinrich. 2014. “How Strauss Became Strauss,” in Reorientation: Leo Strauss in the 1930s, edited by Martin D. Yaffe and Richard S. Ruderman. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Melzer, Arthur. 2006. “Esotericism and the Critique of Historicism,” American Political Science Review 100:2, 279–295. Melzer, Arthur. 2014. Philosophy Between the Lines: The Lost History of Esoteric Writing. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Merrill, Clark A. 1999. “Spelunking in the Unnatural Cave: Leo Strauss’s Ambiguous Tribute to Max Weber,” Interpretation 27, 3–26. Merrill, Clark A. 2000. “Leo Strauss’s Indictment of Christian Philosophy,” The Review of Politics 62:1, 77–105. Metzger, Thomas A. 2005. A Cloud Across the Pacific: Essays on the Clash Between Chinese and Western Political Theories Today. Hong Kong: The Chinese University of Hong Kong.

Strauss and the East–West dialogue  51 Orr, Susan. 1995. Jerusalem and Athens: Reason and Revelation in the Work of Leo Strauss. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Pangle, Thomas L. 1983. Studies in Platonic Political Philosophy. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Pangle, Thomas L. 1989. The Rebirth of Classical Political Rationalism: An Introduction to the Thought of Leo Strauss. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Pangle, Thomas L. 1993. “Platonic Political Science in Strauss and Voegelin,” in Faith and Political Philosophy, trans. and edited by Peter Emberley and Barry Cooper. University Park: Pennsylvania University Press. Pangle, Thomas L. 2003. Political Philosophy and the God of Abraham. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Pangle, Thomas L. 2006. Leo Strauss: An Introduction to His Thought and Intellectual Legacy. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Parel, Anthony and Ronald C. Keith. 2003. Comparative Political Philosophy: Studies Under the Upas Tree. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Parkes, Graham (ed.). 1990. Heidegger and Asian Thought. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Patapan, Haig. 2011. “Triumph of the West? The Politics of Legitimacy in Asia,” ­Australian Journal of International Affairs 65: 4, 1–12. Rowbotham, Arnold. 1945. “The Impact of Confucianism on Seventeenth Century Europe,” The Far Eastern Quarterly 4:3, 224–242. Schwartz, Benjamin. 1964. In Search of Wealth and Power: Yen Fu and the West. ­Cambridge: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Shaw, Carl K. Y. 2016. “Yan Fu, John Seeley and Constitutional Discourse in Modern China: A Study in Comparative Political Thought,” History of Political Thought. XXXVII:2, 306–335. Smith, Steven B. 2006. Reading Leo Strauss: Politics, Philosophy, Judaism. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Sole-Farras, Jesus. 2013. New Confucianism in Twenty-First Century China: The Construction of a Discourse. New York: Routledge. Spence, Jonathan D. 1984. The Memory Palace of Mateo Ricci. New York: Viking Penguin. Strauss, Leo. 1952. The Political Philosophy of Hobbes, its Basis and its Genesis. Trans. Elsa M. Sinclair. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1953. Natural Right and History. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1958. Thoughts on Machiavelli. Seattle: University of Washington Press. Strauss, Leo. 1963. On Tyranny. New York: Free Press of Glencoe. Strauss, Leo. 1964. “The Three Waves of Modernity,” in An Introduction to Political Philosophy: Ten Essays by Leo Strauss, edited by Hilail Gildin. Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press. Strauss, Leo. 1965. Spinoza’s Critique of Religion. New York: Schocken Books. Strauss, Leo. 1966. Socrates and Aristophanes. New York: Basic Books. Strauss, Leo. 1967. Jerusalem and Athens: Some Preliminary Reflections. New York: City College. Strauss, Leo. 1968. Liberalism, Ancient and Modern. New York: Basic Books. Strauss, Leo. 1970. Xenophon’s Socratic Discourse: An Interpretation of the Oeconomicus. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Strauss, Leo. 1972. Xenophon’s Socrates. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

52  Haig Patapan Strauss, Leo. 1973. What is Political Philosophy? And Other Studies. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. Strauss, Leo. 1975. The Argument and Action of Plato’s Laws. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1978. The City and Man. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1983. Studies in Platonic Political Philosophy. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago. Strauss, Leo. 1984. Thoughts on Machiavelli. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago. Strauss, Leo. 1988. Persecution and the Art of Writing. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1989. The Rebirth of Classical Political Rationalism: An Introduction to the Thought of Leo Strauss. Selected and introduced by Thomas L. Pangle. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Tang, Yijie. 2015. Confucianism, Buddhism, Daoism, Christianity and Chinese Culture. Heidelberg: Springer. Tanguay, Daniel. 2007. Leo Strauss: An Intellectual Biography. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Tarcov, Nathan. 2010. “Leo Strauss on Machiavelli and the Origins of Modernity,” in Recovering Reason: Essays in Honor of Thomas L. Pangle, edited by Timothy Burns. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 239–248. Toynbee, Arnold J. 1970. A Study of History. Abridgement by D. C. Somervell. London: Oxford University Press. Velkley, Richard. 2011. Heidegger, Strauss, and the Premises of Philosophy: On Original Forgetting. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Zuckert, Catherine and Zuckert, Michael. 2006. The Truth About Leo Strauss: Political Philosophy and American Democracy. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

Part III

The places of Leo Strauss in Northeast Asia

4 Studies on Leo Strauss in Japanese academia Shozo Iijima

In this chapter I will trace the development of Leo Strauss’s influence on ­Japanese political science, especially with regard to its view of the history of Western political philosophy. The chapter is divided into three uneven parts. In the first part I will emphasize four aspects of Yasunobu Fujiwara’s treatment of Leo Strauss. In the second part, I will survey briefly the more recent Japanese reception of, and/or reaction to, Leo Strauss’s political philosophy. In the third part, I will revise my former introduction to Japanese academia of Strauss’s method of interpretation of the texts through a consideration of certain grave problems in the translation of his writings, especially the Japanese translation of The City and Man.1

Leo Strauss’s influence on Yasunobu Fujiwara In order to trace the development of Leo Strauss’s influence on Japanese political science, it is both useful and convenient to examine the academic achievements of the late Yasunobu Fujiwara (1935–1994), a distinguished Japanese scholar of Western political philosophy who taught many promising students of this discipline at Waseda University, in Tokyo. It is no exaggeration to say that Strauss would have been even less popular in Japan without Fujiwara’s focus on Strauss’s accomplishments as a political philosopher. First, Fujiwara introduced Strauss to the world of Japanese political theorists as one of the leading scholars of the political philosophy of Thomas Hobbes, as Fujiwara’s first book, Kindai Seiji Tetsugaku no Keisei (The Formation of Modern Political Philosophy, 1974) clearly showed. In this book he referred mainly, of course, to Strauss’s book, The Political Philosophy of Hobbes: Its Basis and Its Genesis. Strauss’s tremendous influence on Fujiwara’s interpretation of Hobbes is visibly confirmed by the fact that Strauss is the most cited or referred to scholar next to Aristotle. To be sure, Fujiwara is deeply impressed by Strauss’s erudite understanding of political philosophy in general and his penetrating insights into the epoch-making and revolutionary characteristics of Hobbes’s political philosophy in particular. But Fujiwara is very critical of Strauss’s method of understanding Hobbes, namely his way of separating Hobbes’s natural philosophy

56   Shozo Iijima from his political philosophy. Instead, Fujiwara claims we can and should interpret Hobbes’s political philosophy systematically and coherently. According to him, Hobbes’s political philosophy is materialistic and is constructed consistently from the bottom up, that is, from De Corpore through De Homine to De Cive. Although Fujiwara differs from Strauss in hermeneutics, he substantially agrees with Strauss’s thesis of the paradigm change in Hobbes from a “noble morality” to a “bourgeois morality.” (See Appendices I and II.)2 Second, Fujiwara held Strauss in high regard as one of the most important contemporary figures contributing to the rehabilitation of political philosophy in the age of “the death of political theory.” In his book Seiji Riron no Paradaimu Tenkan (Paradigm Changes in Political Theory, 1985), Fujiwara deals with only two contemporary political philosophers: John Rawls and Leo Strauss. This fact alone shows eloquently the significance Fujiwara assigned to Strauss. He values Strauss highly as the rehabilitator of natural right/law tradition in an age of relativism. His main texts by Leo Strauss are Natural Right and History, What Is Political Philosophy? and Other Studies, and Liberalism Ancient and Modern. This selection of Strauss’s texts also reflects the characteristic features of ­Fujiwara’s appraisal of Strauss as a political philosopher. Fujiwara tends to regard as relevant to our age those of Strauss’s books which address directly the issues of the contemporary world, such as natural right, the decline of political philosophy, and liberalism. Correspondingly, he tends to disregard Strauss’s philosophical studies in ancient and medieval political philosophy. Thus, Strauss’s three major books on Xenophon, Socrates and Aristophanes, The Argument and the Action of Plato’s Laws, and Strauss’s works on Jewish thought in the Middle Ages, including Persecution and the Art of Writing, are almost ignored. Third, Fujiwara greatly admired Strauss’s contributions to the discipline of the history of political philosophy. In the Introduction, “Seiji Rironshi no Houhou” (“The methods of the history of political theory”) to his huge book Seiyou Seiji Rironshi (History of Western Political Theory, 1985), he mentions three major approaches to the study of the history of Western political thought. They are: (1) what he calls the “natural law” approach, (2) the approach adopted by scholars such as Quentin Skinner, John Dunn, and J. G. A. Pocock, who may roughly be termed the school of “the history of ideas,” and (3) a kind of Hegelian approach with which Fujiwara loosely identified himself. Naturally Fujiwara categorized Strauss in this book as one of the representatives of the “natural law” approach, which recognizes the search for the best political order as the goal of political philosophy. According to him, this approach is a normative, idealistic approach, and puts heavy emphasis on an adequate understanding of the author’s original texts. Although it must be admitted that Fujiwara tried very hard to reproduce the thought of Leo Strauss as faithfully as he could when introducing him to the Japanese academic world, there are several characteristics that can be noted. For example, Fujiwara does not simply follow or imitate what Strauss wrote, but sometimes criticizes it. He is no epigone of Strauss, but rather, an independent thinker.

Strauss in Japanese academia  57 As far as Strauss’s writings on the history of political philosophy are concerned, two points must be made in connection with Fujiwara’s appreciation of them. First, Fujiwara is highly dissatisfied with the fact that the political philosophy of the Middle Ages does not occupy a distinct and separate place within Strauss’s presentation of that history. Does this criticism do Strauss justice? It is true that Strauss did not write a monograph on St. Augustine or on St. Thomas Aquinas, for instance. In this sense, it may be possible to say that Fujiwara’s criticism does not lack a textual basis. We know, however, that Strauss wrote on Alfarabi and, on several important Jewish thinkers of the Middle Ages, such as Maimonides and Halevi, and especially on Spinoza. In this sense, it is also possible to say that Strauss treats the history of medieval political philosophy within the framework of “the theologico-political problem.” Furthermore, Fujiwara does not pay sufficient attention to the History of Political Philosophy (co-edited with Joseph Cropsey). The third edition of that book is a truly gigantic book, consisting of almost 1,000 pages and covering more than 40 political thinkers. Indeed, Strauss wrote a great deal about the history and tradition of political philosophy in his many books and articles. Can we say that he wrote such a book and articles on the history of political philosophy in his own name? Fourth and finally, in the penultimate book published in his lifetime, 20-Seiki no Seiji Riron (Political Theories of the 20th Century, 1991), Fujiwara treated 15 political philosophers and theorists. Strangely enough, he excluded Strauss from that list. Why? We will later discuss some plausible answers to that question. Before that, however, let us look at the table of contents of the book in question. In this tome Fujiwara points out that throughout the twentieth century there had been several great thinkers who tackled the grave social and political problems of the ages, analyzing the causes of those problems and suggesting plausible solutions to them. According to him, those problems are the inevitable consequences of the pathologies of modern culture and industrialization. In the book he divided 15 thinkers into five groups with distinctive features, although roughly in chronological order. In the first part, “Pluralistic State Theories,” Fujiwara treats E. Barker under the title of “The Succession of Idealism,” H. J. Laski under that of “From Pluralistic State Theory to Class State Theory,” and G. D. H. Cole under that of Guild Socialism. In the second part, “Science and Ideology,” Fujiwara deals with Max Weber’s analysis of the ethos of “rationalization” and its prospects, Carl Schmitt’s criticism of liberalism, and Karl Mannheim’s Ideologie und Utopia. In the third part, “Empirical-Scientification of Political Science,” Fujiwara treats Harold D. Lasswell’s introduction of the psychopathological method to the study of politics, David Easton’s The Political System and A Systems Analysis of Political Life, and Karl W. Deutsch’s application of cybernetic theory to politics. In the fourth part, “The Revival of Political Philosophy,” Fujiwara deals with the political philosophy of John Rawls (theory of justice), Ronald Dworkin (values of equality), and Robert Nozick (the defense of a minimum state).

58  Shozo Iijima And in the fifth part, “Modern and Postmodern,” Fujiwara analyzes Hannah Arendt’s attempt to recover the public sphere, Jürgen Habermas’s theory of communicative actions, and Michel Foucault’s understanding of the power of discipline and the resistance to it. This very rough description of Fujiwara’s book is intended to show who are treated in the book and under what perspectives they are discussed, and therewith some characteristics of his study. This merits comment. Although we are very impressed by his wide-ranging knowledge of contemporary political and social philosophers, are we persuaded by Fujiwara’s selection of five big themes or topics? Related to this question is the problematic character of his selection of 15 thinkers. What were, have been, and are the grave and serious political issues, theoretically or practically, globally or regionally or nationally, of the twentieth century? That is too big a question to be discussed here. But it is easy to point out that both Fujiwara’s theme-setting and his line-up of thinkers are rather Euro-centered. Of course, it is very difficult for anyone who tries to write a book of this kind to decide what theme should be discussed and who should be included and who excluded. Nonetheless, one thing is clear. As far as the fourth part of this book is concerned, the absence of the name Leo Strauss from the figures who contributed to “the revival of political philosophy” is shocking and most unexpected. Takashi Oshimura, a scholar who was one of Fujiwara’s students, has also pointed to the omission of Strauss from the list as very strange, but he suggests the possibility that Fujiwara might have had a plan for another book, one which treats Strauss and the Straussians separately (Oshimura 2005–2008, 447–449). For my part, I am not persuaded by this suggestion. Whatever the case, if Fujiwara had included Strauss in this book, Strauss’s influence on Japanese political science would certainly have increased. This omission made a difference.

The more recent reception of Leo Strauss As far as the more recent Japanese reception of Leo Strauss is concerned, it is possible to say that there are three principal approaches to Strauss: the first is chiefly interested in his method of interpretation of past texts, the second is concerned with the characterization of his thought, and the third is engaged in applying certain of his insights to issues of political philosophy. In this part we deal with the second and the third approaches to Strauss, treating the first in the next part. In Japan, recently, Strauss has mainly been characterized either as a religious (Jewish) thinker or as a (postmodern) political philosopher. The former categorization of Strauss as a believer in revelation is of two kinds: one is represented by Ryuuichi Nagao, and the other by the late Toshiko Shibata. In his article “Shutorausu no Furoito Ron” (“Strauss on Freud”), Nagao criticizes Strauss with great severity and provides a harsh analysis of Strauss’s lecture, “Freud, Moses, and Monotheism” (1958). Nagao makes the following points:

Strauss in Japanese academia  59 Strauss says Freud lacks a philosophical basis. But does not he confuse religion with philosophy? Philosophy is “a love of knowledge.” It is “ridiculous” for Strauss to talk about “philosophy” when he has placed a taboo on scientific inquiry and has tried to oppress with religious authority the historical and psychological study of religious phenomena. (Nagao 1998, 282. Translation is mine) Nagao continues in a highly emotional vein with words to the effect that if Strauss had had the power of the Grand Inquisitor of the Middle Ages, he would have persecuted many Jewish intellectuals who were alienated from Judaism, killing and burning them (Nagao 1998, 283).3 In her posthumous book (Shibata 2009), Toshiko Shibata treats Strauss more calmly and with less emotion. She questions the simple identification of Strauss with “neo-conservatism” and emphasizes the importance of distinguishing Strauss’s political claims from those of the exponents of “neo-conservatism” on the one hand and those of its critics on the other. Like Nagao, however, Shibata categorizes Strauss as a believer in revelation, the traditional orthodox Jew, a modern Maimonides. Is Strauss really an essentially religious person? From a different perspective, Yoshihiko Ishizaki, the self-proclaimed ­Japanese Straussian, made the claim that Strauss’s attempt to recover the values of virtues such as wisdom and moderation was an attempt to revive political philosophy for the good life against the background of the postmodern desert (Ishizaki 2009). This book is the largest and most comprehensive ever written in Japanese on Straussian thought.4 In his latest book on “Hegel and Leo Strauss,” however, the philosophical impact of Strauss seems to have been reduced by Hegelian dialectics, as the full title of the book appears to imply (Ishizaki 2013). As for applications by Japanese scholars of Strauss’s insights into some issues of political philosophy, Satoshi Nakagane has attempted energetically to bring to light Strauss’s contributions towards the deeper understanding of such philosophical problems as “the taming of tyrants” and “hedonism” in his recent articles. In his article “Reo Shutorausu to Arukibidiasu Mondai” (“Leo Strauss and the Alcibidean Problem”), Nakagane maintains as follows: In the City and Man Strauss elucidates the reason why philosophers have tried in vain to tame potential tyrants, bringing philosophers themselves to death and the city to ruin. The book makes a great contribution towards understanding “the Alcibidean Problem,” an ancient political scandal in which Socrates was sentenced to death for educating Alcibiades, one of his beloved pupils and the author of the Athenian defeat in the Peloponnesian War. It can be formulated in the form of a politico-philosophical antinomy as: a philosopher’s guilt is necessitated by his success in the education of ambitious young men, while his innocence results from his failure, or his pupils’ betrayal of their teacher. But Strauss, by the careful reading of Plato and Thucydides, leaves it as an open question whether the problem could be reduced to a matter of allocating success/failure, or attributing political

60   Shozo Iijima responsibility to a philosopher/a tyrant. What was at stake is “an intelligent and virtuous tyranny,” but the city is destined by its nature to banish the only person upon whom that hope relies on account of his alleged impiety. Thus, Strauss suggests the possibility of resolving “the Alcibidean Problem” into “the Socratic Problem.” In “The Pseudo-Alcibiades” (in The Pure Theory of Politics, 1963), an imaginary dialogue written as a sequel to Plato’s Alcibiades 1, Bertrand de Jouvenel gives Alcibiades an occasion for self-defense and retort against Socrates, and concludes that politics is not sensitive to the teaching of wisdom. The defeated philosopher presented by Jouvenel seems to make his political philosophy radically different in character from and more realistic than that of Strauss, but in fact they agree on a decisive respect: that philosophy and politics are in need of each other. (Nakagane 2007, 61–89) In his article “Kairaku-shugi to Seiji: Reo Shutorausu no Epikurosu-shugi Kaishaku nitsuite” (“Hedonism and Politics: On Leo Strauss’s Interpretation of Epicureanism”) Nakagane maintains as follows: Strauss’s interpretation of Epicureanism has not been given its due appreciation in understanding Strauss’s thought as well as Epicureanism itself. It originated from the critical reception of Nietzsche’s ambivalence about Epicurus which enabled the young Strauss to distinguish the “original” Epicureanism from its “modern” variations: popular, Christianized or political. But this variety was eventually identified with the diversity of means by which to attain ataraxia, the final purpose of Epicurean philosophy. It is generally agreed that the differentia of Epicureanism as a classical philosophy lies in its view of justice as conventional. In Natural Right and History (1953), Strauss claims that Epicureanism as philosophical conventionalism had much in common with classical natural right theory, among which is an alleged Epicurean insult to man-made laws. Epicurean natural philosophy discloses any justice on earth to be but a devious substitute for the lost moenia mundi (Lucretius), but takes it nevertheless to be necessary for the peace and safety a philosophical life needs. Given Strauss’s repeated suggestion that any genuine philosophy involves a certain politics— moderation, the dilution of nature or esotericism − if it is to give man the supreme pleasure, the “original” Epicureanism may be understood to have recognized it with natural right theory but from a different view of nature. The modernization of Epicureanism had its origin in Lucretius’s didactic poem where it had become enlightened (“Notes on Lucretius,” 1968). Since then it has been accepted only as an incubator of modernity, but it never lost its original ambivalence about justice in Montaigne’s legal thought or even in Hobbes’s moral and political philosophy. Though not an Epicurean or a hedonist himself, Strauss as a philosopher approves of the Epicurean image of the human predicament as “an unfortified city.” (Nakagane 2010, 63–94)

Strauss in Japanese academia   61

On Strauss’s interpretation of old texts This part deals with Strauss’s interpretation of old texts. In the first section I will try to revise slightly my introduction into Japan of Strauss’s interpretation of old books. In the second and the third sections I will try to clarify some salient features of Strauss’s approach to the history of political philosophy, paying attention to the titles of his books, especially History of Political Philosophy and The City and Man. 1  Author’s responsibility vs. reader’s responsibility Leo Strauss, as a student or scholar of the history of political philosophy, is usually regarded as a textualist or text-centered historian, in contradistinction to a contextualist. In Japan, like the late Fujiwara, I have been one of the strongest exponents popularizing the image of Strauss as a textualist. When I first wrote on “Reo Shutorausu niyoru Tekusuto Kaishaku no Kadai to Houhou” (“Problems and Methods in Leo Strauss’s Interpretation of Texts”) more than 20 years ago (Iijima 1989), I put the following sentences of Strauss on the top of my paper, because I felt they expressed very beautifully and succinctly the core or essence of his view of such books “as possessions for all times.” The flight to immortality requires an extreme discretion in the selection of one’s luggage. A book that requires for its adequate understanding the use, nay, the preservation of all libraries and archives containing information which was useful to its author, hardly deserves being written and being read at all, and it certainly does not deserve surviving its author. (Strauss 1952a, 160) Although I never failed in my paper to mention the fact that Strauss says it is sometime necessary to pay attention to the context within which the book under consideration was written or to use the extraneous information indispensable for its adequate interpretation, my overwhelming emphasis was certainly on the importance of the careful reading of the text itself or on the self-sufficiency of intrinsic information within the text in the Straussian interpretation of old books. Strauss certainly admits the need for extraneous information, for example, when he tries to interpret Spinoza’s Theologico-political Treatise, as the following citation clearly shows: The need for extraneous information derives from the fact that a man’s foresight as to what could be intelligible to posterity is necessarily limited. (Ibid., 160)5 Similarly, Strauss grants the importance of considering the historical context within which the texts were written when we interpret those texts, but he emphasizes the importance of clarifying the proper context, as, for example, the

62   Shozo Iijima following sentences of his review on J. W. Gough’s John Locke’s Political Philosophy clearly illustrate: “Political philosophy” is an ambiguous term, but certainly when speaking of the political philosophy of a man like Locke, one must assume that political philosophy is a branch of philosophy. Accordingly, the context within which Locke’s political philosophy must be seen primarily is not the political scene of seventeenth century England, but the state of philosophy in seventeenth century Europe. If I am not mistaken, Gough does not even allude to the names of Bacon, Galileo, Descartes and Newton. Seventeenth century philosophy effected, and intended to effect, a break with the philosophic tradition. Locke himself played a leading role in that revolution. It is therefore reasonable to expect that his political philosophy is fundamentally a revolutionary or novel doctrine. (Strauss 1959, 303) In spite of these considerations, however, I reprinted my previous paper omitting only the above-quoted “flight to immortality” sentences, when Hirochika Ogasawara and I co-edited the book, Seiji Shisoushi no Houhou (Methods of History of Political Thought)6 in 1991, and I characterized Strauss as a textualist. I emphasized the following points of Strauss’s interpretative arguments. Some authors of the past have succeeded in conveying their secret, heterodox teachings by employing a special kind of art of writing, that is, by combining the exoteric and the esoteric teaching very subtly, despite the historical fact of persecutions. They deliberately adapted the modes of expression of their thought to their social authoritative opinions without damaging the content itself of their thought. As a result, their writings are not easy to access. Strauss not only pointed out the existence of persecution (religious, political and intellectual) and its grave effects on the philosophical literature, but also gave us several important clues for deciphering exoteric literature, notably making us pay attention to the existence of such clues as contradictions, repetitions, omissions, additions, silences, tones, mottoes, exaggerations, numbers, tense (present or past or imperfect), titles, and so on. According to Strauss, the authors of the past were compelled to invent this kind of art of writing for the purposes of, among others, “self-preservation,” “preservation of his society,” and “the education of the potential philosophers.” From the vantage viewpoint of the present, I must confess that I somewhat overemphasized the crucial roles and grave social responsibilities played by authors compared to those by readers in the process of continuation or revitalization of the tradition of political philosophy, as is emphatically shown by my use of such words as “social preservation,” and “the education of the young.” Here I would like to rather reconstruct very briefly Strauss’s own interpretative method with special attention to the concrete merits or gains we can obtain through studying or reading old books. By doing so, I hope I can show that readers’ roles and responsibilities were, are, and will continue to be no less than those of authors.

Strauss in Japanese academia   63 First, let us confirm that Strauss describes his own interpretation as “an adequate interpretation,” while he criticizes both progressivist and historicist interpretations. We quote the following two paragraphs from “Political Philosophy and History.” It is evident that our understanding of the past will tend to be the more adequate, the more we are interested, seriously interested in the past. But we cannot be passionately interested, seriously interested in the past if we know beforehand that the present is in the most important respect superior to the past. Historians who started from this assumption felt no necessity to understand the past in itself; they understood it only as a preparation for the present. In studying a doctrine of the past, they did not ask primarily, what was the conscious and deliberate intention of its originator? They preferred to ask, what is the contribution of the doctrine to our beliefs? What is the meaning, unknown to the originator, of the doctrine from the point of view of the present? What is its meaning in the light of later discoveries or inventions? They took it for granted then that it is possible and even necessary to understand the thinkers of the past better than those thinkers understood themselves. (Strauss 1959, 67. Italics are added) our understanding of the thought of the past is liable to be the more adequate, the less the historian is convinced of the superiority of his own point of view, or the more he is prepared to admit the possibility that he may have to learn something, not merely about the thinkers of the past, but from them. To understand a serious teaching, we must be seriously interested in it, we must take it seriously, i.e., we must be willing to consider the possibility that it is simply true. The historicist as such denies that possibility as regards any philosophy of the past. (Ibid., 6) The former paragraph obviously contains Strauss’s attack on the progressivist’s view of the history of philosophy, while the latter one contains his attack on the historicist. On the other hand, the “adequate interpretation” which Strauss himself pursues is described by him most briefly in the following citation. An adequate interpretation is such an interpretation as understands the thought of a philosopher exactly as he understood it himself. (Ibid., 66) Strauss, as a historian, as a historian of political philosophy, seems to concern himself simply with the objective truth, the historical truth of the thought of its originator. And an adequate interpretation seems to be precisely what makes him attain such truth.

64   Shozo Iijima When we turn to The City and Man, one of his latest books, however, we are extremely perplexed in many ways. Here let it suffice to mention one strange thing, that is, the structure or order of the table of contents. After the “Introduction,” Strauss goes on to treat Aristotle, then Plato, and finally Thucydides. This construction does not follow a temporal or chronological order. Does it mean Strauss relinquishes his own method of adequate interpretation? Before we enter into this difficult question, let us briefly look at the other two modes of interpretation referred to by Strauss himself, “idealizing” interpretation and correct interpretation, in order to understand more deeply Strauss’s conduct of the history of political philosophy.7 In the preface to the English translation of Spinoza’s Critique of Religion, Strauss traces the vacillation of appraisals of Spinoza in modern Judaism. And in the process of examining Herman Cohen’s judgment on Spinoza, Strauss uses favorably the phrase “idealizing” interpretation in contrast with historical interpretation proper.8 This is indeed the question: whether the loyal and loving reshaping or reinterpretation of the inherited, or the pitiless burning of the hitherto worshiped is the best form of annihilation of the antiquated, i.e. of the untrue or bad. On the answer to this question the ultimate judgment on Spinoza as well as on Cohen will depend: is the right interpretation “idealizing” interpretation—the interpretation of a teaching in the light of its highest possibility regardless of whether or not that highest possibility was known to the originator—or is it historical interpretation proper which understands a teaching as meant by its originator? Is the conservatism which is generally speaking the wise maxim of practice the sacred law of theory? (Strauss 1965a, 25. Italics are added) I take it to mean that “historical interpretation proper” is the same as an adequate interpretation, because the former “understands a teaching as meant by its originator.” If this is correct and if the right interpretation is an “idealizing” interpretation, then an adequate interpretation turns out to be not the right interpretation. The second alternative mode of interpretation seems to be referred to by Strauss in his review of Karl Löwith’s Von Hegel bis Nietzsche. I cite the following sentences: so far as the “time,” the “historical reality,” is concerned, no return to an earlier “historical reality” is possible: once certain customs, beliefs or institutions have ceased to be an unquestioned element of human life, no deliberate effort can ever restore their original force. But what holds true of such public things does not apply to insights: those of former thinkers may be forgotten, and they can be recovered by unremitting effort. While a return to the “time,” to the “world” of Goethe—to “Weimar”—is impossible, a return to his insights and his approach may be a necessity. One cannot, I confess, be certain that this interpretation of Löwith’s intentions is correct.

Strauss in Japanese academia   65 (It seems to be contradicted by remarks on pp. 13 note 1, 52, 112, 270ff., 463 note 31, 493 and 529.) If it is correct, the book as a whole would be even more than a remarkable expression of the crisis of historicism: it would be a contribution to liberation from it. (Strauss 1959, 269–270. Italics are added) Strauss here does not ask the question whether it is an adequate interpretation of Löwith’s intentions, but instead he asks whether it is a correct interpretation of them. Several questions immediately arise. If this is the case, then a correct interpretation is not an adequate interpretation. Is this correct interpretation the same as, or similar to, the above-discussed “right” interpretation? If so, it may be possible to say that there are two important manners of interpretation for Strauss. If the correct interpretation is not the right interpretation, then three modes of interpretation are of great value for him.9 However it may be, the above-cited paragraph from Strauss’s book review is of pivotal importance, because it says explicitly that we can recover the forgotten insights through studying or reading great books, in this case Löwith’s book (with the assistance of Strauss), and we can attain liberation from the crisis of historicism. These gains are really big, indeed. In this section we confirm that Strauss puts tremendous importance on the roles of historians or readers of the old books. That is to say, he emphasizes the character of interest, concern, or attitude with which the readers turn to the old texts. To put this differently, Strauss suggests, the authors of old books reveal their insights or wisdom only to those philosophical readers with philosophic concern, to those who are passionately interested in learning something from reading them. In this sense, Strauss seems to admit that readers’ roles and responsibilities were, are, and will continue to be no less than those of authors in the process of the continuation or revitalization of the tradition of philosophy. 2  Leo Strauss and Joseph Cropsey, History of Political Philosophy In Thoughts on Machiavelli Strauss says “An author may reveal his intention by the titles of his books” (Strauss 1958, 37). Likewise, we might say “Editors may reveal their intention by the title of their edited book.” Whenever I introduce to a Japanese audience this mega-textbook History of Political Philosophy by rendering it as Seiji Tetsugaku no Rekishi, I feel uncomfortable or uneasy, precisely because Seiji Tetsugaku no Rekishi can mean three different titles in English: A History of Political Philosophy, The History of Political Philosophy, and History of Political Philosophy. A person like the present writer, whose native language is not English, should not delve into this kind of complicated, linguistic inquiry. Yet Strauss insists on the importance of considering the titles of books. Therefore we cannot avoid treating this question: What are the different meanings of the three kinds of titles, that is to say, A History of Political Philosophy, The History of Political Philosophy, and History of Political Philosophy?

66   Shozo Iijima First, the title of A History of Political Philosophy seems to imply that the book presents the author’s own interpretation of that history. Just as John Rawls both presents and justifies in his A Theory of Justice an interpretation or conception of (social) justice, so Brian Barry both picks up and examines in his Theories of Justice some major contemporary interpretations or conceptions of justice. On the other hand, does the title of The History of Political Philosophy imply or presuppose that there is such a thing as the only true interpretation of that history? Even if it is described from a certain point of view, for example from a certain religion or a certain -ism, does it not still in a sense claim or assume the absolute truth of its interpretation of that history? To the contrary, does the title of History of Political Philosophy contain within itself or behind itself the fundamental question: What Is History of Political Philosophy? If this is the case, then it may be possible to say that, while in each of the former two titles “answers” or “solutions” rather than “questions” or “problems” tend to come to the fore, in History of Political Philosophy rather than “answers,” questions are more important such as: What are the fundamental or permanent questions or problems? Who is to be included, or which books are to be dealt with, in History of Political Philosophy? As a matter of fact, in the preface to the third edition of History of Political Philosophy Joseph Cropsey grants that the inclusion of chapters on Husserl and Heidegger are “open to question.”10 At any rate, Strauss and Cropsey seem to presuppose certain grave questions or problems when they give their edited book the title of History of Political Philosophy. 3  Some problems with the title of The City and Man (a) Finally, in this subsection we deal with some problems regarding the title of The City and Man. As I have often pointed out, when Strauss gives titles to his books, he follows a very simple pattern. During his lifetime he published 15 books. More than half (i.e., eight of them) are entitled following a similar style, “A and/und B,” excepting his trilogy on the writings of Xenophon, and his books on Spinoza’s Critique of Religion, on Hobbes’s Political Philosophy, on Machiavelli, and on Platonic Political Philosophy.11 In this sense, the title of The City and Man is not unique. The Japanese translation of the titles alone of Strauss’s books, however, is not so easy as it appears to be, except Socrates and Aristophanes. Not only the body or substance but also the title itself of The City and Man is uniquely difficult to translate. Let us very briefly see why and how. Traditionally this book has been referred to by many Japanese either as Toshi-kokka to Ningen or as Kokka to Ningen. We are now engaged in translating the book into Japanese and we have a plan to entitle it Toshi to Ningen. So there are three candidates for the Japanese title of The City and Man. The difference or opposition among them, then, concerns only the translation of “the city.” Toshi-kokka means city-state, with Kokka meaning State. These two renderings do not apparently obey the strong recommendation by Strauss for the literal translation of philosophical technical terms.12

Strauss in Japanese academia   67 Even if our rendition Toshi to Ningen is, comparatively speaking preferable, more desirable, more adequate, and more correct even, there still exist several ambiguities or deficiencies in that rendition. In order to clarify as far as we can the intention of the author, let us here consider the meanings of this title from some different aspects and make a comparison with the original English title. In the hope of accomplishing this purpose, the comparison with John Plamenatz’s Man and Society: A Critical Examination of Some Important Social and Political Theories from Machiavelli to Marx seems to be very useful and informative, because the title of this book also consists of “A and B.” First, both Strauss’s book and Plamenatz’s book have the word Man in common. But the different place of Man in each title should not be overlooked. And that place is not convertible in each title. That is to say, “And” in the title of “A and B” in each title does not mean simply a juxtaposition, but presupposes priorities in certain points. What kind of important difference does the different place of Man imply? (Why can we not change Tolstoy’s famous novel War and Peace into Peace and War?) Now in the case of Plamenatz’s book, “Man” means an individual human being, and can be construed as reflecting the principle or ideal of modern political thought, as the subtitle of the book (and the title of the Japanese translation) unequivocally shows. Namely, society should exist for the sake of individual human beings, and not vice versa. How about in the case of Strauss? Is it the case that, as in Plato’s Republic justice demands that individual human beings exist for the sake of the political community, that is, the city, and not vice versa, so Strauss’s The City and Man should be construed as reflecting the priority of the whole over the parts in ancient classical political thought? The answer is given in the negative, as will shortly be shown very clearly. It may suffice here to confirm the fact that the title of The City and Man does not show such temporal or historical priority as indicated in Liberalism Ancient and Modern, the latter clearly treating the same theme (liberalism) in chronological order. Second, to be sure, “city” and “man” are related to each other. But what kind of relation do they have? The former includes the latter and the latter is included in the former. Is the relation the includer-included relation? Without the city only gods and beasts live, according to Aristotle. If so, however, can Strauss adopt the title of The City and Citizen, instead of The City and Man?13 Strauss, who rehabilitated the research and study of Xenophon through his commentaries on his writings in the latter half of the twentieth century, knows very well the existence in the age of Socrates of a certain kind of cosmopolitan young man, who wants to liberate himself from the obstacles or obligations of a political life and seeks out a kind of third way of life while he himself depends for his survival on dominating the slaves in his household, and Strauss examines critically the problematic character of such a mode of existence as an apolitical life (cf. Strauss 1972, 32–35).14 Third, the literal translation of The City and Man into Toshi to Ningen suffers a great deal from the apprehension that we are not so sure “Man” means human beings (or a human being). It must be remarked that in this book Strauss also

68   Shozo Iijima uses the phrase “human beings.” Readers are compelled to distinguish between Man and human beings. We translate “human beings” (when Strauss uses them) as “ningen-sonzai,” because “being” is usually translated as “sonzai.” At any rate, human beings in that case might mean “both men and women.” Yet the real problem is with the translation of “man.” It is possible to doubt whether man means “a male human being.” That is to say, it becomes a decisive question whether man means not “a human being,” but rather “a male person” or not. The question of how we should translate into Japanese the title of The City and Man cannot be solved by considering solely whether it should be translated literally or not. The problem is not only with “man.”15 How to translate “the City” (neither “A City” nor “City”) is also extremely difficult. (The definite article, “the,” causes tremendous headaches for translators.) Thus, we are compelled to reflect deeply on the context within which Strauss himself explains the title of the book. (b) On the proposition that the theme of political philosophy is The City and Man In this subsection we consider the greatest and highest theme of this book. That theme immediately points to the title itself of this book. That theme is proclaimed by Strauss in the first sentence of the third paragraph in the Introduction. We would like here to quote the third paragraph as a whole: The theme of political philosophy is the City and Man. The City and Man is explicitly the theme of classical political philosophy. Modern political philosophy, while building on classical political philosophy, transforms it and thus no longer deals with that theme in its original terms. But one cannot understand the transformation, however legitimate, if one has not understood the original form. (Strauss 1964, 1) Let us try to understand the meanings of the whole paragraph by considering the paragraph sentence by sentence. The first sentence, “The theme of political philosophy is the City and Man,” is described as a universal statement about the theme of political philosophy. That is to say, the theme is described as a theoretical statement, and not as a practical statement or historical statement. To put it differently, it is described as an eternal truth, as an objective truth beyond time and space. Even if it is not certain that the time will come when human beings as a whole might be compelled to survive beneath the earth or above space because of, for example, environmental disasters such as radioactive pollutions, this sentence seems to claim that the theme of political philosophy will be forever the City and Man, as long as human beings continue to live a political life and political philosophy is possible and necessary and even desirable. By this sentence Strauss seems to claim that this proposition is true, not only with respect to the past and the present, but also with respect to the future.

Strauss in Japanese academia   69 The second sentence, “The City and Man is explicitly the theme of classical political philosophy,” is written within the framework of the present, not of the past; that is to say, this sentence is claimed as a historical truth, not merely as a historically past event. The procedure by which we should carefully observe the frame of the tense within which the statement of an event is written by an author is one of the basic procedures Strauss emphasizes as a careful reading. It is of paramount importance that the third paragraph as a whole composed of four sentences is written within the present tense. The third sentence, “Modern political philosophy, while building on classical political philosophy, transforms it and thus no longer deals with that theme in its original terms,” must be interpreted as emphasizing the fact that there are aspects of both continuity and discontinuity between classical and modern political philosophy. It is obvious that the word “transform” precisely implies both the continuity and the discontinuity of classical and modern political philosophy. The expression that “modern philosophy … thus no longer deals with that theme in its original terms” seems to merit comment. What does that expression mean? Perhaps it must mean that “modern philosophy deals with that theme in different terms.” If this is the case, then Strauss seems to suggest that, although the modes of treating or the manners of speaking in modern political philosophy are different from those in classical political philosophy, the object or theme of both modern and classical political philosophy is the same, that is, the City and Man. As for the second and the third sentences, let us here confirm the following two points. First, it is too obvious that the ancients, for example, Plato, Aristotle, and Cicero, do not, nay, cannot, know or see by themselves this “transformation” in the modern age of political philosophy. The transformation is, so to speak, behind them. For another, according to Leo Strauss, with modern philosophers such as Machiavelli, Hobbes, Locke, Rousseau, and Kant, consciously, intentionally, or deliberately, each participates in this long process of the “transformation” in political philosophy. If the second point is true, then it is possible to say that this “transformation” is neither the result of simple accidents nor the consequence of historical necessity, but rather the product of the freedom of human beings, or more properly speaking, the result of the exercise of the free will of the greatest minds. And yet, do the scholars of the history of (modern) political philosophy, or for that matter, modern philosophers themselves agree with the third sentence of Strauss’s? (The third sentence is perhaps the most controversial.) For instance, Thomas Hobbes proclaimed himself as the founder of civil philosophy, and Strauss himself treated him as “the originator of modern political philosophy” in The Political Philosophy of Thomas Hobbes. Despite these facts, Strauss denies Hobbes real radicalism, as the following citation from that book clearly shows: The introduction of Galileo’s method into political science is thus bought at the price that the new political science from the outset renounces all discussion of the fundamental, the most urgent question.

70  Shozo Iijima   This neglect of the truly primary question is the result of Hobbes’s conviction that the idea of political philosophy is a matter of course. Hobbes does not question the possibility and necessity of political philosophy; in other words, he does not ask first “what is virtue?” and “can it be taught?” and “what is the aim of the State?”, because these questions are answered for him by tradition, or by common opinion. The aim of the State is for him as a matter of course peace, i.e., peace at any price. (Strauss 1952b, 152) Thus Hobbes, the self-proclaimed founder of civil philosophy, is not so radical or original as he first appears to be, but rather his modern political philosophy is “building on classical political philosophy” in the most fundamental respects. Yet the focal figure is not Hobbes, but Machiavelli, as Strauss himself grants that the latter deserves the honor of being regarded as the originator of modern political philosophy (Strauss 1952b, xv), the founder of “a kind of thought which is philosophic indeed but no longer Greek: modern philosophy” (Strauss and Cropsey 1987, 297). Some scholars maintain that Machiavelli “discovers” the new “Oughts,” or that he originates modern scientific political science as distinct from Aristotelian pre-scientific political science. In short, they emphasize Machiavelli’s “originality” in the history of political thought. In contrast, Strauss puts emphasis on the “transformation” rather than on the “discovery” on the part of Machiavelli, as his book review on Leonardo Olschki, Machiavelli the Scientist, clearly illustrates: Olschki denies the existence of any political science worthy of mention prior to Machiavelli: “Machiavelli is the first theorist of statecraft who wrote about that subject from first-hand experience both as a politician and as a historian. None of his supposed forerunners had any insight into governmental affairs of any kind.” Oblivious of the achievements of men such as Thucydides, Aristotle, Polybius, Cicero and Tacitus, he fails to see that Machiavelli’s achievement consists not in the discovery but in a radical transformation of the idea of political philosophy or political science. (Strauss 1959, 288–289. Italics are added) As far as “transformation” is concerned, perhaps we can say that there are as many “transformations” of political philosophy as there are political philosophers. But in the third paragraph Strauss mentions only one “species” of transformation of political philosophy, that is, the modern transformation. In other words, he is silent about other “transformations,” for instance, the medieval transformation.16 Strauss seems to imply the decisive gravity or danger of modern transformation by his silence about the other transformations.17 Last, the fourth sentence, “But one cannot understand the transformation, however legitimate, if one has not understood the original form.” To whom does this sentence mainly address itself? Obviously, it is addressed neither to the

Strauss in Japanese academia  71 ancients nor to the moderns. Is it not addressed to “us,” the postmodern men, the students of the history of political philosophy who are concerned with learning something important from the past by reading the books of the past? The lesson drawn from the fourth sentence must be a crucial part of the method of studying the history of political philosophy. It is a truism that one has no right to talk about the “transformation” of anything without knowing its “original” beforehand. It seems to be precisely at this moment, however, where one of the gravest aporiae emerges in Strauss’s method of interpretation or study of the history of political philosophy. Who on earth can establish that original itself, in what capacity or on what standards or criteria? What in the world guarantees that privileged status of the historian? Relating to the title or the theme of The City and Man, we can reformulate those questions in the following questions: who among past philosophers did say that the theme of political philosophy is the City and Man? And where (in which book)? Plato? Cicero? Spinoza? Unfortunately, the erudition required to answer those questions currently escapes the present writer. However, if it is permitted for him to reply intuitively, the thesis that the theme of political philosophy is the City and Man is expressed for the first time by Strauss himself. But where is the evidence or proof? To mention only the extraneous proof—if this can indeed be said to be a proof—Strauss does not refer to any authority or sources in order to support his statement that the theme of political philosophy is the City and Man. In other words, the evidence or authority for him is his reason alone or his reasonable judgment only, based on his many years of intensive study of the tradition of political philosophy. To summarize, the third whole paragraph in which Strauss explains the title of The City and Man does not contain any proper names, and it is framed in the present tense.18 (c)  The logographic necessity for the structure of The City and Man Even if it is granted that all of the writings of the history of political philosophy are necessarily a (re-)construction on the part of the writers, namely, the historians, the book which deserves reading seriously must be based on certain plausible premises or assumptions. To put it differently, it must not be written or (re-)constructed arbitrarily. What, then, is the case with The City and Man? We have already pointed out that the structure of The City and Man is very strange: it does not follow a temporal or chronological order. We now also point out that the inclusion of Thucydides as one of the representatives of “classical political philosophy” is strange and very controversial and this must therefore be justified by Strauss. If space permitted, we might profitably consider some problems other than the strangeness of the sequence of chapters. We shall deal with the following questions very briefly. That is to say, we ask only why Aristotle comes first, and why Thucydides comes last. In both questions we pay special attention to what necessarily leads Strauss to think that the order taken by him is more appropriate than that taken by the tradition of political philosophy.

72  Shozo Iijima First, against the traditional view, according to which it was Socrates who originated political philosophy or political science, Strauss starts with Aristotle in his explication of classical political philosophy. Why does he not begin traditionally? According to his Introduction, the crisis of the time compels him to take that step. What kind of crisis is it? It is neither the modern crisis nor the ancient crisis, but precisely the contemporary crisis of the West. And it is not a political crisis, such as the threat from communism, but rather such a spiritual or intellectual crisis as “the decay of political philosophy into ideology” or “the replacement of political philosophy with the history of political philosophy” which Strauss is worried about the most. In particular, however, he is dissatisfied with, and critical of, present-day social science based on the distinction between values and facts. For the historical studies in which the new political science must be engaged do not explain fully, for example, “the politics of other climes and other ages,” precisely because “that distinction is alien to that understanding of political things which belongs to political life.” However scientific or elaborate present-day social science may be, it takes many presuppositions for granted. Strauss’s keen analysis shows clearly the derivative or secondary nature or character of present-day social science. “Those presuppositions [of social science] prove to be modifications of the principles of modern political philosophy, and these principles in turn prove to be modification of the principles of classical political philosophy” (Strauss 1964, 10). The genuine understanding of the political philosophies which is then necessary may be said to have been rendered possible by the shaking of all traditions; the crisis of our time may have the accidental advantage of enabling us to understand in an untraditional or fresh manner what was hitherto understood only in a traditional or derivative manner. This may apply especially to classical political philosophy which has been seen for a considerable time only through the lenses of modern political philosophy and its various successors. (Ibid., 9)19 Thus, Strauss contends that social science cannot clarify its doings if it does not possess a coherent and comprehensive understanding of what is frequently called the common sense view of political things, i.e. if it does not primarily understand the political things as they are experienced by the citizen or statesman. (Ibid., 11) That coherent and comprehensive understanding of political things is, according to him, available to us in Aristotle’s Politics precisely because the Politics contains the original form of political science (ibid., 12). Here we confirm only one point. The procedure in this book is in a sense similar to that in Natural Right and History. That is to say, Strauss starts with

Strauss in Japanese academia   73 the contemporary crisis of natural right, and then examines its spiritual or intellectual causes (radical historicism and the distinction between facts and values), and finally tries to understand the original ideas of natural right and the developments of natural right theories. Second, in the case of the turning from Aristotle and Plato to Thucydides, what force leads Strauss to that turn? In this context, the following sentences from the Chapter III of The City and Man are worthy of extensive quotation: However profound the difference between Plato and Thucydides may be, their teachings are not necessarily incompatible; they may supplement one another. Thucydides’ theme is the greatest war known to him, the greatest “motion.” The best city described in the Republic (and in the Politics) is at rest. But in the sequel to the Republic Socrates expresses the desire to see the best city “in motion,” i.e. at war; “the best city in motion” is the necessary sequel to the speech on the best city. Socrates feels unable to praise properly, to present properly the best city in motion. The philosopher’s speech on the best city requires a supplement which the philosopher cannot give. The description of the best city which avoids everything accidental deals with a nameless city and nameless men living in an indeterminate place and at an indeterminate time. Yet a war can only be a war between this particular city and other particular cities, under these or these leaders, at this or that time. Socrates seems to call for the assistance of a man like Thucydides who could supplement political philosophy or complete it. (Ibid., 140. Italics are added) Here we would like to emphasize two points. First, what necessarily leads Strauss to studying Thucydides is not, for example, the crisis of the West, but rather the inner logic of political philosophy itself, as the expression that “they [Socrates’s teaching and Thucydides’s teaching] may supplement one another” and the expression that “the best city in motion” is the necessary sequel to the speech on the best city unequivocally show. Does this imply that Socrates is not an absolute pacifist, even if he is a man of peace or a friend of peace? Does this also imply that a political philosophy such as Kantian philosophy which seeks for perpetual peace, or Hobbesian philosophy the aim of which is peace at any cost is necessarily insufficient or deficient? Second, Strauss maintains that “Socrates feels unable to praise properly, to present properly the best city in motion.” Why is Socrates, however, unable to praise properly, to present properly the best city in motion? This is very difficult to answer, because Strauss’s reference to Plato’s Timaeus 19b3–d2 and 20b3 in note 1 on page 140 seems to be twofold. For one thing, that reference surely points to the fact itself that Socrates feels his inability to deal with the topic of “the best city in motion.” For another, it seems to imply the reason why he is unable to do so. Now are there certain questions or problems which Socrates, a citizen philosopher par excellence, cannot tackle in public?20 How many questions of such a

74  Shozo Iijima nature are there in the world? Are those obstacles which prevent the citizen philosopher from engaging with some questions moral or intellectual or both in character? We have learned from Xenophon’s Hiero that a morally responsible philosopher cannot deal with even the theme of the improvement or betterment of tyrannical rule, that is, an intelligent and virtuous tyranny. Thus, in that dialogue Xenophon is compelled to make Simonides, the wise poet, the interlocutor with Hiero, the tyrant, so that Xenophon is able to suggest “the tyranny at its best.” If this is the case, it is possible to say that the moral viciousness or vileness of the subject matter itself of “tyrannical rule” makes the philosopher feel it repulsive to treat it openly. How about the case with the presentation of “the best city in motion”? What kind of assistance does Socrates need from “a man like Thucydides” in order to complete political philosophy? What kind of advantage does he lack? Is it moral or intellectual in nature? I surmise that the citizen philosopher par excellence cannot avail himself of access to the opportunity for “observing and reflecting” the greatest motion from an objective point of view. In other words, he needs Thucydidian “observations and reflections on the problem of the best city at war.” That is to say, he is suffering from an intellectual disadvantage. With the following final questions in mind, we would like to close this chapter. Strauss says Socrates calls for the assistance of “a man like Thucydides.” He does not say “the assistance of Thucydides.” This implies Thucydides can be replaced by someone else. However, by what kind of man? Does Strauss’s abovementioned reference to Timaeus suggest that Thucydides can be replaced by such a man as a sophist who roams from city to city? If so, is it possible to say that certain sophists have, as a matter of possibility, at least the intellectual or theoretical, if not moral, advantages in the matter of the greatest motions?

Conclusion In this chapter we traced the development of Leo Strauss’s influence on ­Japanese political science, especially with respect to its view of the history of Western political philosophy. Starting with an examination of Yasunobu ­Fujiwara’s favorable treatment of Leo Strauss, we then surveyed briefly the more recent Japanese reception of, and/or reaction to, Leo Strauss’s political philosophy and the applications by Japanese scholars of Strauss’s stimulating insights into certain issues of political philosophy. Finally, the present writer clarified some salient features of Strauss’s approach to the history of political philosophy, paying special attention to the titles of his books, especially History of Political Philosophy and The City and Man. Leo Strauss is not at all popular in Japan. And yet, it is not popularity but the profundity or depth of his thought that matters most for serious students of politics at any time and at any place. A systematic and coherent study of the philosophy of Leo Strauss has just been launched by young scholars with fresh eyes in Japanese academia, together with careful and correct Japanese translations of his œuvre.

Strauss in Japanese academia  75

Appendix (I) (Letter from Leo Strauss to Yasunobu Fujiwara, April 29, 1971: The photocopied version of this letter is on page 186 of his autobiographical book, ­Gakumon eno Hitotsu no Michi [One Way to the World of Scholarship].) 786 A Fair View Avenue, Annapolis, Md. 21403 April, 29, 1971 Dear Colleague, I have your letter of April 7. I shall be delighted if I can be of any help to you in your attempt to interpret Hobbes’ political philosophy as a part of his philosophy as a whole. In order to do this, one must first answer the question as to what is the principle underlying the distinction between political philosophy and all other parts of philosophy: that principle is far from being clear. I am very much obliged to you for the photos & the beautiful traditional Japanese picture. Sincerely yours,   Leo Strauss

Appendix (II) (Letter from Leo Strauss to Yasunobu Fujiwara, June 2, 1971: Photocopies of this letter were distributed to the audience at the lectures in commemoration of the completion of the Fujiwara Yasunobu Chosaku-shuu in 2008.) 786 A Fair View Ave., Annapolis, Maryland 21403 June 2, 1971 Dear Professor Fujiwara, The only reason why I have not thanked you for your kind letter of April 7 and for the photos and for (the) beautiful Japanese picture is the poor state of health of myself and my wife. Be so good as to accept my belated thanks. As for the complicated relation of Hobbes’s political philosophy to his natural philosophy, I am afraid that your correction of Oake shott—viz. that not only Part I of De Corpore but also Part II was presupposed in his political philosophy—is not sufficient. The first chapters of Leviathan (as of Elements of Law) make it quite clear that the whole physiological account of sense-perception, desire etc. is presupposed. Nevertheless, he treats political philosophy as independent of a whole theoretical philosophy in De Cive—I do not believe that Hobbes succeeded in extricating himself from this difficulty—a difficulty by no means peculiar to him.

76   Shozo Iijima I am sorry that I must leave it at these few lines. Sincerely yours,   Leo Strauss

Notes   1 An earlier version of the bulk of Part III was delivered in Japanese at the 20th Conference on Political Philosophy at Otaru University of Commerce, Hokkaido, on August 8, 2012. The present writer appreciates very much the useful comments and constructive critiques given on that occasion. He is very grateful to, among others, Professors Satoshi Nakagane (Kokushikan University), Reiji Matsumoto (Waseda University), Takao Sugita (Ochanomizu University), Yoshiki Ohta (Setsunan University), Takashi Sato (Hokkai Gakuen University), and Ryo Nishinaga (Otaru University of Commerce) for their insightful suggestions. He also thanks Professor Anthony Newell (Waseda University) for his meticulous editing of this chapter. Furthermore, he owes gratitude to Professor Nathan Tarcov (The University of Chicago) for his valuable comments. Needless to say, the present writer alone is responsible for any possible error or mistake.   2 Before Fujiwara received his Ph.D. from Waseda University in 1976 with his study of Hobbes’s political philosophy, he had been studying at The University of Chicago under the sponsorship of a Fulbright scholarship for one and a half years (summer 1969 to fall 1970). According to his autobiography, he chose The University of Chicago precisely because he wanted to study there under the academic guidance of Leo Strauss. Unfortunately, Strauss had already retired from that University before Fujiwara arrived in Chicago. Fortunately, though, under Professor Cropsey’s strong recommendation, Fujiwara was able to visit Strauss at his home in Annapolis on December 21, 1970. They spent hours talking about many issues of political philosophy, especially Hobbes’s political philosophy. See Yasunobu Fujiwara’s autobiographical book (Fujiwara 1995, 179–187).   3 As an eminent scholar of jurisprudence Ryuuichi Nagao calls himself “Hansu Keruzen no Banken” (“a faithful dog of Hans Kelsen”) (Nagao 1998, 312).   4 In Japanese academia contemporary French philosophy has become very popular and been vigorously discussed. In this context Strauss has sometimes been dealt with not in his own right, but rather in comparison with such French thinkers as Kojève, Derrida, and Levinas. He is also treated in the context of the Japanese discussion of Negri and Hart’s theory of “Empire.”   5 On the other hand, Strauss points out, there is a book which appears to depend for its interpretation only on “intrinsic information,” but which in reality relies almost solely on its author’s dogmatic personal opinions. See, for example, Strauss’s review of C. E. Vaughan, Studies in the History of Political Philosophy Before and After Rousseau. Vaughan is guided by a philosophy of history, but he is not a philosophic historian. He is a dogmatic historian. He starts from a settled and passionately asserted view concerning the problems of political philosophy and their solutions; and the various doctrines which he considers, he views primarily not in themselves but within the framework supplied by what one may call his personal views. Thus, although his work is rich in extensive quotations, the voice of Vaughan is almost always more audible than that of the writers he discusses. And it is a monotonous voice. (Strauss 1959, 265)

Strauss in Japanese academia  77   6 Besides Strauss, Masao Maruyama, John G. A. Pocock, Quentin Skinner, HansGeorg Gadamer, Sheldon Wolin, and the School of the Annales d’Histoire Economique et Sociale are discussed in this book with a view to their respective methods of the conduct of the history of political thought.   7 As for Strauss’s “conduct of the history of political philosophy,” see Nathan Tarcov and Thomas Pangle “EPILOGUE: Leo Strauss and the History of Political Philosophy” in Strauss and Cropsey (1987, esp., 912–919).   8 Needless to say, quotation marks reveal the phrase was not used originally by Strauss.   9 Is it possible to say that Strauss uses the correct interpretation with a view to the individual author while he uses the right (namely, “idealizing”) interpretation with a view to tradition, in this case, Judaism? As Nathan Tarcov points out, his interpretation of the Bible in “Jerusalem and Athens” and “On the Interpretation of Genesis” seems to be “idealizing” in this sense. 10 When, in the Preface to the first edition, we referred to the inclusion of chapters on the Muslim and Jewish medieval and on Descartes as open to question, we had in mind of course that the thinkers involved are not primarily political philosophers. Of Husserl and Heidegger the same will be said, as it will be said of phenomenology and existentialism that they are not political philosophy. (Strauss and Cropsey 1987, ix) 11 While The Political Philosophy of Hobbes: Its Basis and Its Genesis was published in 1952, its German original, Hobbes’ politische Wissenschaft, appeared in 1965. 12 See, for example, Leo Strauss, “How to Begin to Study Medieval Philosophy” (Strauss 1989, 220). Furthermore, those who render “the city” either as “toshi-kokka” or as “kokka” ignore Strauss’s caution against such renditions (Strauss 1936, 1–37, especially note 4; Strauss and Cropsey 1987, 5–6; Strauss 1964, 30). Strauss explicitly says that classical political philosophy lacks the concept of “the state” including “the city-state.” 13 Very suggestive and informative is the expression, “Man is more than the citizen or the city” (Strauss 1964, 49). 14 Xenophon, Memorabilia, II. 1. Cf. Leo Strauss. Xenophon, Memorabilia, translated by E. C. Marchant, London, England: Harvard University Press, 1997; Leo Strauss, Xenophon’s Socrates. New York: Cornell University Press, 1972, 32–35. 15 Man is more than the citizen or the city. Man transcends the city only by what is best in him. This is reflected in the fact that there are examples of men of the highest excellence whereas there are no examples of cities of the highest excellence, i.e., of the best regime—that men of the highest excellence (Plato and Aristotle) are known to have lived in deed, whereas of the best regime it is known only that it necessarily “lives” in speech. (Strauss 1964, 49) 16 “Or, la politique de Fârâbî, de son côté, est une modification de la politique de Platon” (Strauss 1936, 13. Italics are added). 17 Le caractère médiéval de la politique de Maïmonide et des falâsifa n’est pas contredit par le fait qu’elle n’est autre chose qu’une modification, quoique considérable, d’une conception antique. Car il y a un accord profond entre la pensée juive et musulmane d’une part et la pensée anitique d’autre part: ce n’est pas la Bible et le Coran, c’est peut-être le Nouveau Testament, c’est certainement la Réforme et la philosophie moderne qui ont amené la rupture avec la pensée antique. (Ibid., 2. Italics are original)

78  Shozo Iijima   Strauss uses the words “transformation” and “modification” interchangeably. If I remember correctly, however, Strauss employs neither of them when he speaks about the “idealizing” interpretation of the tradition of Judaism in his “Preface to Spinoza’s Critique of Religion.” There he uses “metamorphosis or reshaping” (Strauss 1965a, 24). 18 “The heading of the typical chapter does not contain any proper names, and it is framed in the present tense: it expresses a permanent fact regarding man as man” (Strauss 1958, 90. Italics are added). 19 Maimonides already pointed out “the habituation” as a fourth cause of the obstacles to philosophizing, after Alexander of Aphrodisias had mentioned three causes thereof: “love of domination and love of strife,” “the subtlety and obscurity of the object of apprehension in itself and the difficulty of apprehending it,” and “the ignorance of him who apprehends and his inability to grasp things that it is possible to apprehend.” Maimonides says: However, in our times there is a fourth cause that he did not mention because it did not exist among them. It is habit and upbringing. For a man has in his nature a love of, and an inclination for, that to which he is habituated.… In a similar way, man has love for, and the wish to defend, opinions to which he is habituated and in which he has been brought up and has a feeling of repulsion for opinions other than those. (Maimonides 1963, Vol. I, 66–67) Maimonides pointed out here the bad effects on the independent thinking of the tradition of one’s own cherished way of thinking. In Philosophy and Law Strauss discussed this problem and said: “This new reason differs essentially from the three previous ones. For those three reasons concern the natural difficulties of philosophizing, whereas the reason added by Maimonides is historical” (Strauss 1995, 57. Italics are original). As for the fifth cause, see Maimonides (1963, 79). 20 We call Socrates a citizen philosopher here in contradistinction to a natural philosopher on the one hand, and to a sophist on the other.

Selected bibliography Barry, Brian. 1989. Theories of Justice. Berkeley: University of California Press. Fujiwara, Yasunobu. 1974. Kindai Seiji Tetsugaku no Keisei (The Formation of Modern Political Philosophy). Tokyo: Waseda University Press. Fujiwara, Yasunobu. 1985. Seiji Riron no Paradaimu Tenkan (Paradigm Changes in Political Theory). Tokyo: Iwanamishoten. Fujiwara, Yasunobu. 1985. Seiyou Seiji Rironshi (History of Western Political Theory). Tokyo: Waseda University Press. Fujiwara, Yasunobu. 1991. 20-Seiki no Seiji Riron (Political Theories of the 20th Century). Tokyo: Iwanamishoten. Fujiwara, Yasunobu. 1995. Gakumon eno Hitotsu no Michi (One Way to the World of Scholarship). Tokyo: Privately Published. Fujiwara Yasunobu Tyosakushuu (The Collected Works of Yasunobu Fujiwara, 10 vols.) Shozo Iijima et al. (eds.). Tokyo: Shinhyoron, 2005–2008. Iijima, Shozo. 1989. “Reo Shutorausu niyoru Tekusuto Kaishaku no Kadai to Houhou,” in Waseda Seiji Keizaigaku Zasshi (in Japanese, The Waseda Journal of Political Science and Economics) [Tokyo: Waseda University], nos. 295–296, 223–255.

Strauss in Japanese academia  79 Ishizaki, Yoshihiko. 2009. Rinrigaku toshite no Seijitetsugaku—Hitotsu no Reo Shutorausu Seijitetsugakuron (Political Philosophy as Ethics: A Discourse on Leo Strauss’s Political Philosophy). Kyoto: Nakanishiyashuppan. Ishizaki, Yoshihiko. 2013. Seijitetsugaku to Taiwa no Bennshouhou: Hegeru to Reo Shutorausu (Political Philosophy and the Dialogical Dialectics: Hegel and Leo Strauss). Kyoto: Kouyoushobo. Maimonides. 1963. The Guide for the Perplexed, trans. Shlomo Pines. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Nagao, Ryuuichi. 1998. Arasou Kamigami (Competing Gods). Tokyo: Shinzanshashuppan. Nakagane, Satoshi. 2007. “Reo Shutorausu to Arukibideasu Mondai,” in Japanese, The Journal of Political Philosophy 6. Nakagane, Satoshi. 2010. “Kairaku-shugi to Seiji: Reo Shutorausu no Epikurosu-shugi Kaishaku ni tsuite,” in Japanese, The Journal of Political Philosophy 9. Ogasawara, Hirochika and Iijima, Shozo. 1991. Seiji Shisoushi no Houhou (Methods of History of Political Thought). Tokyo: Waseda University Press. Plamenatz, John. 1963. Man and Society: A Critical Examination of Some Important Social and Political Theories from Machiavelli to Marx. [London]: Longman. [Yasunobu Fujiwara et al. trans. Kindai Seiji Shisou no Saikentou (The Re-examination of Modern Political Thoughts), Tokyo: Waseda University Press, 1975–1978, 5 vols.]. Rawls, John. 1971. A Theory of Justice. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Shibata, Toshiko. 2009. Riberaru Demokurashii to Shinken Seiji—Supinoza kara Reo Shutorausu made (Liberal Democracy and Theocracy: From Spinoza to Leo Strauss). Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press. Strauss, Leo. 1936. “Quelques remarques sur la science politique de Maïmonide et de Fârâbî,” Revue des études juives 100: 1–37. Strauss, Leo. 1952a. Persecution and the Art of Writing. New York: Free Press. Strauss, Leo. 1952b. The Political Philosophy of Hobbes: Its Basis and Its Genesis, trans. Elsa M. Sinclair. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1953. Natural Right and History. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. [Shizenken to Rekishi, trans. Yoshihiko Ishizaki (Kyoto: Shouwadou, 1988)]. Strauss, Leo. 1958. Thoughts on Machiavelli. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. [Testugakusha Makyaverri Nitsuite, trans. Shozo Iijima, Keiichiro Atsumi and Akira Murata (Tokyo: Keisôshobo, 2011)]. Strauss, Leo. 1959. What Is Political Philosophy? and Other Studies. New York: Free Press. [Seijitetsugaku towa Nani dearuka? to Sonota no Shokennkyuu, trans. Shozo Iijima et al. (Tokyo: Waseda University Press, 2013)]. Strauss, Leo. 1964. The City and Man. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. [Toshi to Ninngenn, trans. Shozo Iijima et al. (Tokyo: Hohsei University Press, 2015)]. Strauss, Leo. 1965a. Spinoza’s Critique of Religion, trans. Elsa M. Sinclair. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1965b. Hobbes’ politische Wissenschaft. [Neuwied am Rhein and Berlin]: Hermann Luchterhand Verlag. [Hobbuzu no Seijigaku, trans. Yasuyuki Soeya, Takao Tani and Shozo Iijima (Tokyo: Misuzushobo, 1990)]. Strauss, Leo. 1968. Liberalism Ancient and Modern. New York: Basic Books. [Riberarizumu Kodai to Kindai, trans. Yoshihiko Ishizaki et al. (Kyoto: Nakanishiyashuppan, 2006)]. Strauss, Leo. 1972. Xenophon’s Socrates. New York: Cornell University Press.

80  Shozo Iijima Strauss, Leo. 1989. The Rebirth of Classical Political Rationalism: An Introduction to the Thought of Leo Strauss, selected and introduced by Thomas Pangle. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. [Kotenteki Seijiteki Gourishugi no Saisei, trans. Yoshihiko Ishizaki et al. (Kyoto: Nakanishiyashuppan, 1996)]. Strauss, Leo. 1995. Philosophy and Law: Contributions to the Understanding of Maimonides and His Predecessors, trans. Eve Adler. New York: State University of New York. Strauss, Leo. 2000. On Tyranny, revised and expanded edition, Victor Gourevitch and Michael S. Roth (eds), Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. [Senshu Seiji Nitsuite, Vol. 2, trans. Kouichi Kanada, Yoshihiko Ishizaki, Shozo Iijima et al. (Tokyo: Gendai Shichou Shinsha, 2006)]. Strauss, Leo and Cropsey, Joseph. 1987. History of Political Philosophy, 3rd ed. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Takashi Oshimura. 2005–2008. “Kaisetsu” (“Commentary”) on 20-Seiki no Seiji Riron, in Fujiwara Yasunobu Tyosakushu (The Collected Works of Yasunobu Fujiwara, 10 vols.) Shozo Iijima et al. (eds). Tokyo: Shinhyoron, Vol. 5. Tarcov, Nathan and Pangle, Thomas. 1987. “EPILOGUE: Leo Strauss and the History of Political Philosophy,” in History of Political Philosophy, 3rd ed., edited by Strauss and Cropsey. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

5 Beyond left and right Leo Strauss in China Mingkun Li

An overview The name of Leo Strauss first appeared in China in 1982. The monthly journal, Digest of Foreign Social Sciences, published a brief introduction to Leo Strauss’s life and thought in its first issue of that year (1982, 56–57).1 This sketch of around 2,000 characters was in fact an excerpt from the entry on “Leo Strauss,” written by Joseph Cropsey, in the International Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences (1979). In 1985, Contemporary Political Thought edited by James A. Gould and Vincent V. Thursby, in which parts of Leo Strauss’s essay “What is Political Philosophy?” were included, was translated into Chinese (Gould and Thursby eds., trans. Yang Huaisheng, 1985, 58–86). Nearly a decade later, History of Political Philosophy written collectively by Leo Strauss and his students was published in mainland China (Strauss and Cropsey eds., trans. Li Tianran, 1993). Although this work was said to have successfully replaced as a textbook A History of Political Theory by George Holland Sabine in America (Gan 2003, 1–82; Sabine 1986), it made hardly any impression in the Chinese academia of that time, which is more surprising when it is considered that the latter had been widely read and recognized as the best textbook for nearly ten years in the field of political science in China and that the standpoints of the two are almost diametrically opposed to each other. The Political Philosophy of Hobbes which was introduced in 2001 was the first of Leo Strauss’s own works to be translated and published in mainland China (Strauss 2001). But this book as the first to be favored was not so much because of its “Straussness” as because of its “non-Straussness.” As Allan Bloom once said, the Hobbes book belongs to the “pre-Straussean Strauss,” for in it Strauss follows “the canons of modern scholarship and their historical premises,” not his own arts of interpretation and writing which he elaborated later; at that time he “does not yet know antiquity” (Bloom 1974, 383). Anyway, all these activities above did not draw any serious attention. The thought and works of Leo Strauss were so far treated only as a part (apparently not the most important part) of a huge body of Western scholarship. Its introduction had little to do with its Straussian characteristics. The situation remained unchanged until Liu Xiaofeng published his major essays in interpretation on Leo Strauss at the beginning of the twenty-first

82  Mingkun Li c­ entury, “The Moderation of the Hedgehog” and “The Pathmarks of Leo Strauss,” which are generally regarded as the prelude to the subsequent “Straussian Fever” in China. “The Pathmarks of Leo Strauss” was published in the book The Modernity of the West: Complications and Development, which also contained seven essays or excerpts from books by Leo Strauss (He ed., 2002).2 All of these helped to sketch out for the first time the basic tenets of Leo Strauss’s political philosophy for Chinese academic circles. In 2003, Leo Strauss’s masterpiece, Natural Right and History, was translated into Chinese, for which Gan Yang wrote a long introduction of around 50,000 Chinese characters, “Leo Strauss the Political Philosopher: the Revival of Classical Conservative Political Philosophy.” This introduction, brilliantly written and intelligently structured, serves as another imperative piece for those in China who want to understand Leo Strauss. Together with Gan’s promotion, the emergence of the Chinese version of Natural Right and History immediately gave rise to a trend of reading and talking about Leo Strauss at Peking University, one of the best institutions of higher learning. Henceforward, encouraged and guided by Liu and Gan, through the book series and journal “Hermes: Classic and Interpretation,” the thought and works of Leo Strauss are being rapidly and systematically promulgated. Simultaneously, books of those thinkers who to some extent shared similar concerns with Leo Strauss, such as Carl Schmitt, Alexander Kojève, Eric Voegelin, as well as the works of other Straussians, were imported as well. A great many young and talented scholars and students are being steadily attracted into the Straussian circle. A few of them were even spurred to go abroad to study with Straussian professors such as Harvey C. Mansfield at Harvard University, Heinrich Meier at the University of Munich, and above all, those on the Committee on Social Thought at the University of Chicago. Henceforth, a new mentality began to take shape and won itself more and more young people who had become discontented with both orthodox Marxist propaganda and popular liberal exhortation. Gradually, their reading extended beyond Leo Strauss to books in the canon of great Western books. A number of reading groups of teachers and students devoted to the study of Western classical texts emerged in top universities such as Peking University, Fudan University, Sun Yat-sen University, and so on. Classical Studies thus started to become a kind of fashion. Just as one of the famous ­Chinese liberals observed: “Never have C ­ hinese intellectuals seen such an ardent and widespread interest in Western classical thought. We would even encounter, wholly unexpectedly, an interpretation of Plato’s Symposium in terms of political Philosophy in journals such as Gannan Agriculture” (Q. Liu 2002, 116). Strauss’s influence has now gone beyond political philosophy and spread to literature, education, and other fields of research. Even Marxist studies, which are generally thought to be rigid and outdated because of their special political status, are ready to absorb the ideas of Strauss’s political philosophy (Zhang 2008; Cheng 2012, 268–283). Strauss’s idea of liberal education is also being widely and seriously put into practice in China. With the efforts of the first Chinese Straussians, especially Gan and Liu, a liberal education aiming at a ­comprehensive understanding of the classical texts of both China and the West

Strauss in China   83 is experiencing unprecedented progress. There is even a growing fashion for universities to launch their own courses in accordance with the meaning of a liberal education. A handful of top universities vied with each other in setting up special departments offering systematic and distinguished liberal education curriculums for a few qualified undergraduates. Two of them attracted most ­attention, that is, the liberal arts college of Sun Yat-sen University and the experimental class for classical studies at Renmin University of China, whose foundation and operation are respectively under the instruction of Gan and Liu. Both institutions hold fast to the definition of a liberal education elaborated by Leo Strauss and are committed to cultivating outstanding gentlemen with a comprehensive understanding of human affairs, that is, those whose excellence is in accordance with the old and classical point of view and are able to guide the progress of the whole nation and shape the future of China. In the fall of 2009, the institutions of classical studies at six universities jointly initiated the setting up of a “Chinese Comparative Classical Studies Association” to promote a profound understanding of both the Western and Chinese classics so as to finally “obtain an independent and spontaneous interpretation of Western civilization.”3 Seen in a broader perspective, the process of Strauss’s thought becoming prevalent coincides with the rise of political philosophy as a research field in mainland China. The latter could be regarded as the wider background of the former, while the former is a telling indication of the latter. According to Liu Qing, a well-known Chinese liberal, during the 20 years following the initiation of reform and opening-up, political philosophy remained “silent”. The term “political philosophy” was rarely used in academia. Hardly anyone approached social problems within the horizon of political philosophy. Yet the situation underwent a fundamental change around the year 2000. (Q. Liu 2002, 112) In 1988, when the Chinese version of A Theory of Justice by John Rawls was issued, it was thought of as a great book of ethics, while John Rawls was considered a philosopher or ethicist, instead of a political philosopher. It was as late as 1998 that Philosophical Researches, one of the leading journals in China, published the first essay whose title contained the term “political philosophy,” while for CASS Journal of Political Science, it was 1999 (ibid.). Undoubtedly, the rise of political philosophy in China at the beginning of the twenty-first century has much to do with the unprecedented political and social changes which the whole nation has been undergoing and the unparalleled confusion and difficulties accompanying them, so too does the rise of Leo Strauss.

Chinese Straussians and liberalism Although China’s political regime has been constantly accused by Western media and intellectuals of lacking democracy and freedom, liberalism, as understood

84  Mingkun Li generally by the public in modern democracies, has already assumed an authoritative status in the daily life of China. Government at all levels, on the one hand, has to employ liberal rhetoric to justify their policies before the public, while young people, on the other, are accustomed to using “liberal” excuses to defend their words and deeds before their teachers and parents. Consequently, Chinese Straussians have to face this “liberal” situation right from the outset. As latecomers and challengers, they are compelled to assert themselves by criticizing liberalism. A confrontation with liberalism therefore inevitably constitutes one part of their discourse. Liu Xiaofeng’s “The Moderation of the Hedgehog” begins with a critique of Isaiah Berlin. With regard to the liberal pluralism advocated by Berlin, Liu points out that: The establishment of a political regime implies some kind of idea about what is a good life, thus passing its judgment upon the value conflicts of human beings. Value judgments are the nature of politics and the problem of regimes, “Thus the regimes, and not our preoccupation as mere bystanders, force us to wonder which of the given conflicting regimes is better.” … It is paradoxical for the liberals to claim that the principle of legitimacy for liberal democratic regimes is value-free or tolerance of multiple values. (2011, 53; Strauss 1959, 34) Just as Strauss said, every regime regards “certain habits or attitudes as most respectable” and thus a specific human type “who most perfectly embodies the habits or attitudes in question” as authoritative. Everything which cannot be justified before the tribunal of the authoritative will be “at best, merely tolerated, if not despised or suspect.” Those “who do not recognize that tribunal are, willynilly, molded by its verdicts” (Strauss 1953, 137), that is, cannot be free from them. In other words, the value idea of liberal democracy does not cease to be oppressive merely because of its claimed respect for freedom and human rights. Liberal democracy regards the type of the common man as authoritative and everyone else is compelled to justify themselves before his tribunal. According to Liu, the value-neutrality of liberalism, which is only in name, is “in fact a kind of moral spirit of reaching agreement at all costs” (2011, 67), that is, using value-neutrality as an instrument to settle possible disputes in values and ideas. But as Strauss once said, “Agreement at all costs is possible only as agreement at cost of the meaning of human life” (Strauss 2007, 118). So when upholding value-neutrality, liberalism is tantamount to advocating that “there are no longer any problems regarding the meaning of life which should be taken seriously” (X. F. Liu 2011, 67). For as long as someone seriously asks what is the right meaning of human life, there will be a life-and-death quarrel (Strauss 2007, 118). Besides, no matter how much liberalism is opposed to absolutism, what Berlin uses to support negative liberty is precisely a kind of absolutism. For “if all values are relative, why should negative liberty be defended as an absolute political value?” (X. F. Liu 2011, 13; Strauss 1989, 13–16).

Strauss in China  85 Having in mind the keenness of liberals to play the role of critics as “public intellectuals” against governments, Liu emphasizes that “unlike modern intellectuals who are always ready to act the martyr and are proud of being political dissidents, classical philosophers hold that it is a virtue to be prudent” (X. F. Liu 2011, 62). The reason for choosing to be prudent in political life is, first, not to disturb the life of the common people. But more importantly, it is because classical philosophers know that evil cannot be eradicated once and for all and that “every political constitution, and even the best political constitution, is necessarily imperfect” (Strauss 1989, 64). Liu actually implied that when they disregard moderation in dealing with political issues and despise the esotericism rediscovered by Leo Strauss, Berlin and his liberal followers prove themselves to be the spiritual descendants of classical sophists (2011, 63). Liu’s critique of liberals as representatives of modern intellectuals goes even further. In discussing Strauss’s interpretation of Plato’s The Apology, Liu highlighted that “it is not ‘Athenian people’ but Athenian ‘democratic politicians’ who truly detest Socrates” and are “resolved to put Socrates to death.” In the words of the present, “it is liberal intellectuals in liberal democracies.” “The opposition between philosophers and the people is an illusion,” because the people neither understand nor care about what the philosopher says: “The truth is the opposition between the philosopher and the liberal intellectuals who consider themselves to be on behalf of the people” (X. F. Liu 2011, 112). Liu kept up his critique in his later essay “Nietzsche’s esoteric teaching,” in which he demonstrated that the real target at which Nietzsche aims his criticism is modern intellectuals instead of the masses. The modern intellectuals’ betrayal of the fundamental principles of classical philosophy leads directly to today’s confusion of values and moral depravity. Although it is noteworthy that by “modern intellectuals” Liu means not only liberals but also socialists, conservatives as well as all other representatives of the modern ideology, his criticism confronts liberals with an awkward choice, either to give up their current positions and convert to classical philosophy as spelt out by Leo Strauss, or continuing to act as standard-bearers of demoralization. In short, convinced by Strauss’s judgment that the true name of the modern Enlightenment is obfuscation (Strauss 1978, 173), Liu did not hesitate to censure liberals whenever the opportunity arose. Gan Yang’s criticism of liberalism in his long introduction is mainly that liberalism leads to nihilism. More specifically, he found theoretically unacceptable two interrelated points in liberalism. One is its cherished view that the right is prior to the good and the other is the naked and atomized individuals which liberalism postulates as the basis for reasoning, as shown by the “original position” of John Rawls. Gan straightforwardly pointed out that: “If it can be said that now the central argument of John Rawls is that the right is prior to the good, Strauss’s basic stance is precisely that the good takes precedence over the right” (2003, 47). Behind the proposition that the right is prior to the good is the liberals’ conviction that we cannot have real knowledge of what is truly good. Just as Strauss observed,

86   Mingkun Li They appear to believe that our inability to acquire any genuine knowledge of what is intrinsically good or right compels us to be tolerant of every opinion about good or right or to recognize all preferences or all ‘civilizations’ as equally respectable. (Strauss 1953, 5) “But there is a tension between the respect for diversity or individuality and the recognition of natural right” (ibid.), and the “rejection of natural right leads to nihilism” (ibid.). Moreover, Gan maintained that if put into practice, as already done in most nations of the world, liberalism will push ordinary persons into a position of potential rootlessness given its theoretical postulation of the “unembedded” individual (Gan 2003, 56). This kind of state for most people is equivalent to nihilism, for most people, unlike the philosopher, have to gain the meaning of life from the conventions in which they have been raised, regardless of whether they are a religion or merely a tradition. Liu’s and Gan’s fierce criticism of liberalism on the grounds of Leo Strauss’s political philosophy has caused widespread hatred on the part of liberals. But most of the response of liberals was indulgence in moral recriminations, ­unequipped with reasonable arguments. Against Strauss as well as Gan and Liu, the most serious replies so far have come from two liberals outside mainland China, Chow Pochung in Hong Kong and Qian Yongxiang in Taiwan (Chow 2010, 101–143; Qian 2010, 61–77). Although neither of them could be said to have successfully refuted any of the viewpoints of Strauss or the Chinese Straussians, they after all indicate the basic tenets of Chinese liberals and their ways of thinking. Through a closer examination of their arguments, we are able to discern the fundamental disagreements between Chinese liberals and Straussians and arrive at a relatively concrete understanding of probably the most significant and even growing rift among Chinese intellectuals. In his article “Liberalism, tolerance and nihilism,” Chow responded to Strauss’s and Gan’s critique of liberalism. As we see from the title, Chow reduces Strauss’s criticism of liberalism to the relationship between tolerance and nihilism. In his opinion, Strauss asserts that it is due to nihilism that liberalism advocates tolerance and “if we believe there are universal and eternal natural rights, tolerance would be unnecessary,” which is, however, not the case. In the texts of Leo Strauss quoted by Chow, “tolerance” is mentioned twice, one on the fifth page of Natural Right and History as cited above, the other at the bottom of the fifth page and the top of the sixth: “Liberal relativism has its roots in the natural right tradition of tolerance or in the notion that everyone has a natural right to the pursuit of happiness as he understands happiness” (Strauss 1953, 5–6). In these two quotations, the main idea of Strauss is that liberalism believes we are incapable of acquiring any genuine knowledge of what is intrinsically good or right and this very belief leads to relativism, which in turn has to do with “the natural right tradition of tolerance or in the notion that everyone has a natural right to the pursuit of happiness as he understands happiness.” If tolerance is understood as a matter of practice, as Chow actually did, that is, it

Strauss in China  87 c­oncerns tolerating in one’s life those ideas of values and lifestyles that are different from one’s own, it hardly has anything to do with Strauss’s proposition. From the perspective of Strauss, admitting a kind of natural right in theory has nothing to do with one’s being tolerant or not in practice. A man who accepts a kind of natural right in theory could be the most tolerant or conservative person in life. Chow not only confuses theoretical and practical issues, but also shows little interest in the theoretical problem, that is, the objective standard of value judgment or the knowledge of what is truly good. At the beginning of his essay, before carrying out his own argument, he frankly claimed that: “As for the nature of the values held by liberals, and how the objectivity and universality of those values could be established, he would not examine them, for both belong to the level of ‘philosophical ethics’ ” (Chow 2010, 108). This is a surprisingly strange claim, which we can hardly understand without assuming his deep-rooted indifference to theoretical issues. That philosophical ethics which Chow did not bother to deal with remains at the center of Strauss’s study. The problem of natural right is precisely the problem of philosophical ethics. This easily overlooked detail in fact reveals that there might be a profound asymmetry between liberals and Straussians with regard to what constitutes the real problem and levels of thinking. Probably because of this asymmetry, Chow’s response does not always get to the point. Chow claimed that liberalism “certainly does not say that all preferences and civilizations should be tolerated unqualifiedly,” but prescribes from the very beginning which set of values of life it is permissible to pursue whereas the pursuit of some other set is not encouraged or even prohibited. The behavior that deviates from the basic principles of liberalism will not be tolerated. (Ibid., 112) So liberalism is not nihilism, but has chosen its position among a wide variety of values (ibid., 124, 133), that is, it chose to respect freedom and rights. This view is quite popular among liberals and widely regarded as a successful reply to Strauss. But according to Strauss, it is problematic and its problem may be seen once we adopt the “natural” horizon, the horizon of an actor in real life, not that of a theorist or bystander.4 One would be caught up in the plight of nihilism when one is unable to tell which is best among the multiple ways of life owing to the lack of a standard for comparison. At this moment, the kind of freedom or rights cherished by liberalism not only cannot protect the subject in question from nihilism, but constitutes an indispensable condition for it, because a person without liberty to choose will not be faced with the problem of choice and therefore will not encounter nihilism. However, as to the central question, the question of an objective standard in value judgment, Chow did not consider it on account of its belonging to “philosophical ethics.” Chow responded also to Gan’s criticism of Rawls’s original position. Gan pointed out that the unencumbered individual in the original position would not

88  Mingkun Li choose the principles of justice prescribed by Rawls (2003, 56), which means that, in Gan’s opinion, the design of the original position does not agree with human nature. Chow merely stressed that the original position in Rawls’s theory is only a theoretical abstraction, which “in political philosophy is not only harmless, but necessary” (2010, 132). However, Chow failed to consider that not all theoretical abstraction is acceptable. “There is nothing wrong with abstraction, but there is very much wrong with abstracting from essentials” (Strauss 1989, 45). Gan did think that Rawls’s original position abstracted from essentials, thus it is not consistent with human nature. From Gan’s point of view, theories such as liberalism that start with assumptions inconsistent with human nature are bound to result in arbitrary conclusions, which is why liberalism without drastic revision cannot be trusted in shaping political life. Chow again left this key question untouched. Chow, like many other liberals, attributed the emphasis of liberalism on diversity to its supreme respect for individual autonomy: The reason why liberalism values highly that every person has an equal right to pursue their lives according to their own understanding of happiness, is not because there is no longer “good or bad” and “right or wrong” in the world, but because only in this way could men finally have their own happiness. (2010, 141) This claim of liberalism implicitly assumes that the only way to make people become virtuous or happy in the strict sense is to let them live their lives as they wish, which embodies the basic spirit of so-called “humanism.” From Strauss’s perspective, what they fail to realize is that “man is the being that must try to transcend humanity,” and that “he must transcend humanity in the direction of the subhuman if he does not transcend it in the direction of the superhuman” (1978, 7), therefore humanism alone is not enough. Man cannot achieve his own happiness by the way of living as he likes, for living as he likes in most cases results in living as subhuman, namely, a life of depravity. In view of this, Leo Strauss insisted that True liberals today have no more pressing duty than to counteract the perverted liberalism which contends ‘that just to live, securely and happily, and protected but otherwise unregulated, is man’s simple but supreme goal’ and which forgets quality, excellence, or virtue. (1995, 64) So, it appears that not “individual autonomy” but a serious concern about “good or bad” and “right or wrong,” about “quality, excellence, or virtue” contributes most to one’s pursuit of happiness as long as happiness is not something subhuman. The responsive essay of Qian is better than Chow’s in the sense that it is more pertinent to the question. His main point is that value pluralism does not lead to nihilism. He asserted that

Strauss in China  89 Although all of the differentiated values that are incommensurable cannot be included in a single position and thus no objective judgment can be made as to which one is higher than the other, it does not mean that all of them are worth the same or are legitimate to the same degree. (Qian 2010, 65) In Qian’s opinion, what matters is not the “objective criterion,” but the “unique subjective criterion” and the “subjective significance” reflected in such “subjective criterion” (ibid., 66). Both the “subjective significance” and “subjective criterion” are in reality embodied in the “justification” one puts forward to defend one’s subjective choice. Since “it pays most attention to the autonomy of personal choice rather than its result of choice” (ibid., 67), liberalism attaches more significance to the “justification” rather than the objectivity of the value. “If liberalism simply concentrates on ‘value pluralism’, while neglecting the aspect of ‘justification’, it misunderstands its own essence” (ibid.). However, for a rational person, if knowing in advance that there is no objective standard based on which he can make a choice, could he have any incentive to seek and then adhere to his unique subjective standard? Moreover, if there is no objective standard, where does the dignity and validity of subjective criteria derive from? And how to distinguish socalled “justification” from “prejudices” and blind preferences? Qian refused to admit that here “justification” is indistinguishable from prejudices and preferences. Furthermore, he maintained that men are supposed to question and judge each other’s justifications, which is impossible without any kind of objective standard. This indicates that Qian did feel, more or less, that some type of “universalism” (monism) in contradistinction to pluralism is indispensable, but he insisted that his universalism is not the same as monism. His universalism could provide the indispensable objective position without “degenerating” into Strauss’s position. But, unfortunately and surprisingly, as to in what way this perfect solution might be achieved, the author said “it is too complicated to be addressed here” (ibid., 69). Concerning the issue of social justice, Qian thought that “the political philosophy of Leo Strauss knows only ‘natural men’, whereas that of John Rawls knows ‘moral men’ ” (ibid., 74). Standing on the side of John Rawls, Qian asserted that “To achieve the equal respect for each member of a society, what needs to be considered is moral men rather than a natural person.” It could be said that, for Qian as for Rawls, the injustice of the unequal distribution of mental gifts and the gratifying feeling of prestige which attends the mere possession of superior gifts have to be compensated by social measures destined to prevent the talented individual from exploiting his great opportunities. To this, Strauss responded, Before one could say that this view is tenable, one would have to know whether it makes sense to say that nature committed an injustice by

90  Mingkun Li d­ istributing her gifts unequally, whether it is a duty of society to remedy that injustice, and whether envy has a right to be heard. (1953, 68) It is now clear that from the perspective of Strauss’s political philosophy, the response of liberals hardly gets to the heart of the matter, and thus it is unsurprising that Chinese Straussians as yet scarcely pay any attention to them. It is then also understandable that both sides continue to accuse each other now and again of intellectual shallowness or morally questionable motives in their lectures, essays and books, yet substantive communication remains absent. As a matter of fact, liberals esteem as self-evident the fundamental tenets of the modern Enlightenment while precisely these tenets stay in the center of Straussians’ questioning and criticism. For example, Qian proclaimed that value pluralism is a “fact”, which is seen as the unavoidable default for any thinking about social life.… Value pluralism is the normal state of human life, while monism … if still having any theoretical plausibility, may reflect more than anything else the domineering and childish character of the philosopher [i.e., Strauss]. (2010, 65) Similarly, Chow set forth his conviction at the very beginning of his essay that nowadays regarding the matter of the political principles of a society: We could neither resort to any transcendental external authority as premodern society did, such as God or natural law prescribed by God, nor could we resort to unchangeable natural order or tradition, for the European Enlightenment in the seventeenth century and the rise of the natural sciences, profoundly transformed the way modern people see the world.… Man does not belong to God, and is no longer a part of the natural order, but is an independent rational subject. (2010, 101) After all, it seems that there is an unbridgeable gap between liberals and Straussians, which may be the fundamental reason that there is so far seldom any essential exchange between the two sides, and also because of this, no real communication can be brought forth at this moment or even in the foreseeable future. Despite the fact that there are major disagreements regarding Leo Strauss among different circles of Chinese intellectuals, all of them would agree that the importation of Strauss is unprecedentedly controversial, compared with the introduction of other Western thinkers. Strauss’s reinterpretation of classical texts is seen as a threat in the eyes of modern mainstream scholars, who adhere to the established orthodoxy of modernity, believing in freedom, equality, democracy, enlightenment, and so on. They do not deny that the westernization and marketization in the last several decades undermines traditional culture and

Strauss in China  91 results in moral depravity and chaos, but they insist that it is only the byproduct of modernization and would disappear with the democratization of the government and the development of civil society. Temporary difficulties and confusions can only be properly addressed by further promotion of modernization, politically, and economically. That Strauss seems to spare no effort to criticize modernity and revive the classical is, to them, an outrageous and reactionary retrogression. They deeply feel that the Enlightenment, as the great cause of modern China, has encountered severe challenges in the last decade (Xu 2010, 66–82). In May 2012, Thought, a famous journal in Taiwan which usually attracts some of the most active liberal scholars to contribute their essays, published an article criticizing Liu Xiaofeng. It could be said that the first passage of it uttered the voice of all liberals: The rise of Straussian scholarship marks the true collapse of the ideal of Enlightenment. Enlightenment in their opinion has become something that ought to be cursed and as the original cause of the crisis of modernity, is subject to a wholly new reevaluation, modernity losing almost all its dignity before the classical. Although the proponents of Straussian scholarship claimed that their position is beyond left and right, and that they transformed the quarrel between East and West into the quarrel between the Moderns and the Ancients, given the “political” situation of the academia, it is much more convincing to say that Straussians have joined with the leftist in besieging the liberals. A liberal scholar even exclaimed that “liberalism has come to the critical moment that there is no other way to survive but to fight with everything we have.” (Su 2012)5 Xu Jilin, one of the renowned public intellectuals pointed out that: In recent years, a number of impressive phenomena took place among Chinese intellectuals. Nationalism degenerated from moderate cultural conservatism into extreme political conservatism. Anti-modern Straussianism has aligned itself with Carl Schmittism which places the reason of state above anything else. The radical left-wing collectively turns right, turning into a statism that identifies itself with the current political order. (2010, 75) Another celebrated liberal, Ren Jiantao, accused the introduction of German doctrines such as that of Strauss and Carl Schmitt, of making “people addicted to a speculative, poetic or divine world of ideas, therefore unable to understand the true condition and actual requirements of politics,” and solemnly warned that: After thought separates from reality and turns into imagination that deals with nothing corporeal, the world of ideas gains its sufficient excuse for

92  Mingkun Li independent existence and consequently reality is legitimately left unattended. “Germanness” of this kind jeopardizes China, which may be easily perceived without any complicated analysis. (2011, 194) Generally speaking, the dissatisfaction of liberals with Straussian scholarship comes mostly out of their concern for the current political situation of China. They fear that this impressive tone of antimodernity would cater to or even encourage the anti-democratic and anti-liberal inclination of the ruling authorities, or that Straussians’ neglect of reality would lead to the stagnation or even retrogression of China’s already struggling political democratization. But it is always difficult to properly evaluate the political influence of any academic thinking, especially when everything is still in progress. If anti-liberalism is accompanied with the risk of promoting statism, liberalism leaves the state as a whole unattended while being wholeheartedly devoted to fighting for individual rights against the state, about which, a famous Straussian once complained that: Unfortunately, China’s modernization processes are threatened on both the practical and conceptual level. On the practical level, because of the longtime demonization and belittlement of our own cultural tradition, a certain type of liberals’ naive trust in universalism, and the so-called full expansion of globalization, the national identification which is indispensable for modernization is now trapped in an unprecedented crisis; while on the conceptual level, liberals indicating a surprising naivety and dullness over the question of legitimacy. (Ding 2011, 27–28)6 We can only hope that both sides will act prudently when speaking in public, bearing in mind the potential effect on the current political condition. It is generally admitted that China’s intelligentsia was already marked by profound oppositions such as liberals and the New Left, even before the coming of Leo Strauss. But it is also equally true that Strauss’s arrival further exacerbates the split, if not makes it reach a climax.

Beyond left and right: the intentions of Chinese Straussians Despite the fact that most Chinese Straussians have expressed their criticism of liberalism, anti-liberalism is at best a byproduct of their real intention. Gan Yang’s long introduction consists of six sections, only the fourth of which is directly aimed at liberalism. Besides, Gan Yang said in the final section that Strauss’s political philosophy principally consists in education, that is, to influence future citizens and legislators through liberal education in universities, because “education in the highest sense is philosophy” (Gan 2003, 81; Strauss 1995, 6). So both Gan Yang and Liu Xiaofeng are determined to devote great

Strauss in China   93 efforts to promote liberal education after having turned to Leo Strauss, as mentioned above. Liu Xiaofeng’s “The Moderation of the Hedgehog” is composed of ten sections, only the first three of which are oriented to the criticism of Berlin, while most of them deal with those characteristically Straussian themes of natural right, the conflict between philosophy and politics, the virtue of true philosophers and so on.… As Liu said, while importing Western works in the field of politics and law, what Chinese intellectuals always keep in mind is the one fundamental problem of what kind of new China is about to be shaped (2011, 336), which is also true for Liu himself in his introduction to Strauss. That is to say, what the Straussians are thinking of is primarily the whole destiny, past and future, of the nation and its civilization. In their eyes, all “isms” are “ideologies.” They do not really care about them and do not want to be seen as believers in any of them, either. Liu Xiaofeng once cited some words of Leo Strauss, which clearly shows his own intention to go beyond left and right: We obtained a horizon which transcends the opposition between progress and conservatism, leftist and rightist, Enlightenment and Romanticism, or whatever people call it … we get rid of all considerations about progress or regress and wonder again about the thought of the eternal good and eternal order. (Strauss 2010, 163)7 As to why he imports Leo Strauss, Liu Xiaofeng presented an explicit explanation in his article, “Strauss and China: an encounter of classical ethos.” According to Liu’s articulation, the unprecedented significance of Leo Strauss to contemporary China is demonstrated in three aspects (Liu 2011, 339–340, 344– 348, 354–356). First and foremost, Strauss allows us to disengage ourselves from the “blind and enthusiastic” pursuit of numerous “isms” of Western modernity over the last 100 years, regardless of whether it is conservatism, leftism, or liberalism. All modern “isms” are oriented to “change the world” through political practice while classical “political philosophy” as elaborated by Strauss leads us to the great books. Only by familiarizing ourselves with those great books could we modern human beings learn how to cope with politics appropriately and prudently. Second, Strauss affords us the possibility and opportunity to reject the Western educational system that emerged with modernity so as to save the political-moral characters of our scholars. Under the impact of Enlightenment philosophy, especially that of liberalism, universities and academic circles have ceased to be concerned with the distinctions between true and false, good and bad, right and wrong, and so on, with the result that those who have received a higher education are even less moral than the common people, for they are entitled to leave behind morality through their scientific position of being “value-free.” Third, Strauss’s classical political philosophy enables us to discern that what we have been dealing with for more than 100 years is not the West proper, but its modern version; thus from now on, we are bound to free ourselves from the conventional way of judging the classical Chinese tradition

94  Mingkun Li in the light of “Western” doctrines. Strauss represents not another doctrine from the West, but a kind of classical ethos, which proved to be more akin to Chinese tradition. In other words, Strauss’s questioning of modernity reopens the possibility for us to reinterpret and reevaluate our 5,000-year-old civilization. In short, Strauss’s coming makes Chinese intellectuals see for the first time the hope of regaining their independence after Western “colonial rule” of more than 100 years in their thought and spirit. Therefore, it is widely expected, especially in non-liberal circles, that this “Strauss fever” will be followed by a renaissance of traditional Chinese thinking. Just as Ding Yun, a well-known Chinese Straussian, claimed: It could be foreseen that after Strauss completes its “historic mission”, will come another revival of Confucianism or even Chinese political thought. The era of Western philosophers is coming to an end. Further translation and introduction of Western scholarship would certainly not stop. But, the scene that Western academia provides teachers for Chinese intellectual world is forever gone. The intellectual history of the last three decades would end with the self-consciousness of Chinese thought, which is an end in the real sense. (Ding 2011, 17) Provided that we believe what the Straussians say about themselves and China, we might conclude that if China’s rise in terms of politics and economics is becoming a fact, the reception of Strauss in China is bound to become a landmark event in the process of China’s rise in terms of thought and philosophy.

Notes 1 “Leo Strauss,” Digest of Foreign Social Sciences 1 (1982) (in Chinese): 56–57. 2 Now the two major essays by Liu Xiaofeng are included in his book The Pathmarks of Leo Strauss (in Chinese) (Beijing: Huaxia Publishing House, 2011). The “Hedgehog” in the title, “The Moderation of the Hedgehog,” refers to Isaiah Berlin’s saying about “the Hedgehog and the Fox” in the book, The Hedgehog and the Fox: An Essay on Tolstoy’s View of History (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson Ltd, 1953). 3 “The Establishment of Chinese Society of Comparative Classical Studies,” www. douban.com/group/topic/10709781/. 4 About the difference between the “theoretical attitude” and “the world of action,” see Leo Strauss, Natural Right and History, 46, 79. 5 Su Guang’en, “The Mask of the Philosopher: On Liu Xiaofeng’s Straussian Turn,” Thought 21 (May 2012) (in Chinese), 215–234. 6 Read in context, “the question of legitimacy” probably means the legitimacy of the ruling authority and the regime. 7 The English is my own, since I have not found any English translations available.

Bibliography Berlin, Isaiah. 1953. The Hedgehog and the Fox: An Essay on Tolstoy’s View of History. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson Ltd.

Strauss in China  95 Bloom, Allan. 1974. “Leo Strauss: September 20, 1899‒October 18, 1973,” Political Theory 2:4. Cheng, Guangyun. 2012. “The Legitimacy of Proletarian Political Practice: On Marxist Political Philosophy,” in Contemporary Chinese Political Thought: Debates and Perspectives, edited by Fred Dallmayr and Zhao Tingyang. Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky. Chow, Pochung. 2010. “Liberalism, Tolerance and Nihilism”, Politics of Liberal Equality. Beijing: SDX Joint Publishing Company. Ding, Yun. 2011. Confucianism and Enlightenment: Contemporary Chinese Thought from the Perspective of Philosophical Communication Between China and the West (in Chinese). Beijing: SDX Joint Publishing Company. Gan, Yang. 2003. “Leo Strauss the Political Philosopher: The Revival of Classical Conservative Political Philosophy,” introduction to Natural Right and History (in Chinese), by Leo Strauss. Trans. Peng Gang. Beijing: SDX Joint Publishing Company. Gould, James A. and Thursby, Vincent V. (eds). 1985. Contemporary Political Thought: Issues in Scope, Value, and Direction (in Chinese). Trans. Yang Huaisheng et al. Beijing: The Commercial Press. He, Zhaotian (ed.) 2002. The Modernity of the West: Complications and Development (in Chinese). Changchun: Jilin People’s Press. Ke, Xiaoming. 1982. “Strauss, Leo,” Digest of Foreign Social Sciences 1 (in Chinese). Liu, Qing. 2002. “The Rise of Political Philosophy in Chinese Academic Circles,” Zhejiang Academic Journal (in Chinese). Liu, Xiaofeng. 2011. The Pathmarks of Leo Strauss (in Chinese). Beijing: Huaxia Publishing House. Qian, Yongxiang. 2010. “Pluralism and Good Life: On Two Misunderstandings of Strauss’s Political Philosophy,” Fudan Political Philosophy Review 1. Ren, Jiantao. 2011. “German Spell on Chinese academic circles,” Tianya 3 (in Chinese). Sabine, George Holland. 1986. A History of Political Theory (in Chinese). Trans. Shen Kuiyang and Cui Miaoyin. Beijing: The Commercial Press. Strauss, Leo. 1953. Natural Right and History. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1959. What Is Political Philosophy? And Other Studies. New York: The Free Press. Strauss, Leo. 1978. Thoughts on Machiavelli. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1989. The Rebirth of Classical Political Rationalism: An Introduction to the Thought of Leo Strauss, Thomas L. Pangle (ed.). Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1995. Liberalism Ancient and Modern. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 2001. The Political Philosophy of Hobbes (in Chinese). Trans. Shen Tong. Nanjing: Yilin Press. Strauss, Leo. 2007. “Notes on Carl Schmitt, The Concept of the Political,” in Carl Schmitt, The Concept of the Political, Trans. George Schwab. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 2010. Essays and Lectures on Jewish Philosophers and Enlightenment (in Chinese), Liu Xiaofeng (ed.), Trans. Zhang Ying et al. Beijing: Huaxia Publishing House. Strauss, Leo and Cropsey, Joseph, (eds). 1993. History of Political Philosophy (in Chinese). Trans. Li Tianran et al. Shi Jiazhuang: Hebei People’s Press.

96   Mingkun Li Su, Guang’en. 2012. “The Mask of the Philosopher: On Liu Xiaofeng’s Straussian Turn,” Thought 21 (in Chinese). Xu, Jilin. 2010. “Universal Civilization or Chinese Value: Chinese Historicism in the Last Decade,” Open Times 5 (in Chinese). Zhang, Wenxi. 2008. Historical Materialism’s Dimension of Political Philosophy (in Chinese). Nanjing: Jiangsu People’s Press.

6 A review of Korean studies on Leo Strauss Yong-Min Kim

Issues I had an opportunity to participate in the Conference on Leo Strauss’s Thoughts on Machiavelli, held at The University of Chicago, April 16–17, 2010, as I was a visiting scholar in the Department of Political Science at The University of Chicago. The format of the conference was roundtable, and each presenter was to review an assigned section of Thoughts on Machiavelli. Each session was devoted to a chapter-by-chapter examination of the book: a brief presentation followed by discussion. The presenters included Nathan Tarcov (University of Chicago), Harvey Mansfield (Harvard University), Heinrich Meier (Siemens Stiftung), Christopher Lynch (Carthage College), and Svetozar Minkov (Roosevelt University); and the major chairs included Steven Smith (Yale University), William Kristol (Weekly Standard), Ralph Lerner (University of Chicago), Catherine Zuckert (Notre Dame University), Steven Lenzner (Claremont McKenna College) and Mark Blitz (Claremont McKenna College). In addition, among the participants, there were Strauss’s daughter, Michael Zuckert (Notre Dame University, husband of Catherine Zuckert), and 4–5 members of the audience including myself. From the conference, I learned a few things. First, I learned what a serious reading by the Straussians might look like. Though I was educated at The University of Chicago, it was the first time that I had participated in a so-called Straussian seminar. It seemed to me that Thoughts on Machiavelli had achieved the status of a “classic” among the Straussians. They didn’t just quote the page number; rather, they quoted the sentence number which they had marked in their own copies for the convenience of their deep reading. Second, although they were experts on Strauss’s works, I found that there still existed a lot of different interpretations of the text itself. Even though Thoughts on Machiavelli is one of Strauss’s major works, and even though Mansfield and Tarcov are translators of Machiavelli’s works such as The Prince and Discourses on Livy, various interpretations about the meaning of the text appeared. The reasons, I guess, might be that Strauss’s writing is hard to understand or far beyond an ordinary intelligence, or too esoteric for readers to reach into the hidden meaning. Third, I found that Heinrich Meier,1 who is a German scholar and now editing the

98  Yong-Min Kim c­ollected works of Les Strauss, suggested a more coherent and persuasive interpretation (to me, at least) than any of the American Straussians who were raised in the U.S. I think that he is and will be one of the leading scholars in the Straussian circle. And last, I recognized the possibility that the academic influence of Leo Strauss in American universities was declining or shrinking, after taking into consideration the fact that so few were present in the audience. Assuming that The University of Chicago was the mecca for Straussians, the small audience might be due to the fact that the Straussians’ attraction has diminished on campus. Or, this phenomenon might be explained by the effect of the so-called “members only” or “exclusive membership” tradition of the Straussians as revealed in the requirement for pre-registration. But I think the former cause is more relevant to explain the declining popularity of the Straussians. I am not certain whether the lessons of my experience drawn from the Conference are right or not. Whether the influence of the Straussians is declining or rising, it is true that their existence in the U.S. has exercised a significant impact on the development of Western political philosophy. The forming of the Straussians has its own history, and that history cannot be imitated easily by others. In Korea, there is no identifiable society of Straussians. Some Korean scholars agree with Strauss’s method of deep reading and serious interpretation, but they don’t claim that they are authentic followers of the Straussians. To my knowledge, being somewhat critical of the esoteric teaching and the art of writing, they put themselves at a certain distance from the authentic Straussian method. In this chapter, I will examine the path of reception or acceptance by which Leo Strauss was introduced to Korean scholars, and review the major works on Leo Strauss by Korean scholars. This chapter is an attempt to show the history of the reception and diffusion of Strauss’s political philosophy in Korea. After raising the issues in this first part, the next introduction section will explore the path of reception of Leo Strauss’s political philosophy in Korea by dividing the scholars concerned into two generations; the third section reviews the academic achievements of Strauss-affiliated Korean scholars, and the concluding section suggests the necessity of encouraging further studies on Leo Strauss as well as more Korean translations of his major works.

Introduction of Leo Strauss in Korea The first generation The late Professor Young-Kook Kim (1930–2000) was the first scholar to introduce Leo Strauss (1899–1973) into the field of political science in Korea.2 When he was a full-time lecturer at Seoul National University at the age of 28 in 1958, he had the opportunity to go to The University of Chicago as a visiting scholar.3 At that time, the Department of Political Science at The University of Chicago was very famous for its leading scholars such as Charles Merriam, Harold Lasswell, David Easton, and Leo Strauss. The simple reason why Professor Kim chose to go to this university was that it was known as the best in

Korean studies on Strauss  99 the field of political science at that time. It is said that he was taught by Leo Strauss, but there is no record showing what he learnt from Strauss. Considering the fact that Persecution and the Art of Writing was published in 1952, Natural Right and History in 1953, and Thoughts on Machiavelli in 1958, I would guess that Professor Kim might have learnt something of the subjects related to these major books. More than ten years after his encounter with Leo Strauss, Professor YoungKook Kim wrote a doctoral dissertation titled “A Political Treatise on Leo Strauss” in 1972. This dissertation was the pioneering work on Leo Strauss in Korea. The major argument of the dissertation was published in a paper titled “Political Philosophy and Political Science” in 1973.4 Though Professor Kim’s academic interest lay in the field of political philosophy, he did not have the opportunity to open and teach a class in political philosophy at the department of political science, Seoul National University, because his teacher Byong-tae Min (1913–1977) was in charge of that field.5 He might talk about Leo Strauss to his classes, but he didn’t open a class directly related to Leo Strauss until the death of Professor Min in 1977. In 1979, Professor Kim wrote one chapter about Leo Strauss in a book titled Contemporary Social Thinkers (Korean Institute for Social Sciences ed., 1979). In this chapter “On Leo Strauss,” he reviewed the life and works of Leo Strauss and provided a summary of Strauss’s main criticisms of the scientific approach to political matters, as he had done in his dissertation. In 1983, he published an article “A Review of Machiavelli’s Political Thought on the Basis of Leo Strauss’ Interpretation” in Korean Political Science Review. The main theme of this article was constructed from Strauss’s arguments about Machiavelli and modern political thought which appeared respectively in What is Political Philosophy? Natural Right and History, City and Man, and Liberalism Ancient and Modern. In 1995, Professor Kim published two books, Political Philosophy of Leo Strauss (co-author and editor) and Machiavelli and The Prince (author). In the former, he wrote two chapters: one “On Leo Strauss’ Treatise on Political Science” and the other “On Machiavelli’s Thought,” both of these chapters being reprints of his early works. The latter book was composed of three parts: (1) a brief biography of Machiavelli; (2) Machiavelli’s political thought (a reprint of the 1983 article); and (3) his own translation of The Prince. After these publications, Professor Kim wrote no more works on Leo Strauss (he died in 2000). Another Korean scholar who wrote on Leo Strauss in the 1970s was Professor Syng-Ek Moon of Chung-Ang University. He published a paper, “A Study on Leo Strauss: An Idealist’s Arguments against Positivist Political Science,” in the Journal of Chung-Ang University in 1977. This paper, written in English, was based on part of his doctoral dissertation about the “anti-science position” (Moon 1968). Professor Moon summarized the main theme of his paper as follows: “Professor Strauss’ arguments against positivist political science remain as the exemplary polemics against the ‘science position’ from the standpoint of Platonic Idealism” (1999, 301).6 But the influence of Professor

100  Yong-Min Kim Moon upon Strauss studies was almost forgotten, due, I guess, to the fact that his article was seldom read because it was written in English and because the Journal of Chung-Ang University was hardly accessible to general readers. In my opinion, Professor Moon’s main idea was similar to Professor Young-Kook Kim’s with regard to Strauss’s position against positivism being appropriate to exploring the nature of politics. To my knowledge, Professor Moon published no other works on Strauss than that paper. As shown above, the first generation was composed of Professor YoungKook Kim and Professor Syng-Ek Moon, but it is obvious that Professor Kim played a greater role than Professor Moon in introducing Leo Strauss into the Korea academy. However, it has to be said that, overall, their influence on Korean political scientist was very limited given the strong trend of positivist political science at that time. The second generation It may be said that all the contributors who wrote chapters in the Political Philosophy of Leo Strauss had a kind of affiliation with Leo Strauss because of the academic influence of Professor Young-Kook Kim. (Y. K. Kim ed., 1995) All the writers were graduates of the Department of Political Science at Seoul National University, Professor Kim being their teacher in that department. All of them, including Professor Kim, were members of “The Society for Contemporary Thought” established at Seoul National University. These writers included HongWoo Kim, Dong-Soo Kim, Yong-Min Kim, Hong-Keun Yune, and Hong-Lim Ryu.7 Professor Hong-Woo Kim’s adviser for his Ph.D. dissertation was Eugene Miller at the University of Georgia who was a Straussian.8 Dong-Soo Kim’s and Hong-Keun Yune’s adviser was Professor Young-Kook Kim. Yong-Min Kim’s adviser was Nathan Tarcov at The University of Chicago who was a famous Straussian. Hong-Lim Ryu’s adviser was Stephen E. Bronner at Rutgers University. I think that these authors formed the majority of the second generation. In 1992, there appeared a Ph.D. dissertation, “The Contemporary Interpretation of Classical Political Rationalism in the Works of Leo Strauss, Eric Voegelin, and Hannah Arendt,” written by Won-Pyo Hong at Hankuk University of Foreign Studies.9 According to Doctor Hong, the major aim of the dissertation is “to inquire into the new political principle and comprehensive horizon of postmodern times by interpreting the works of Leo Strauss, Eric Voegelin, and Hannah Arendt, whose political philosophy is based on the critique of modernity.” Later in 1992, he published a paper, “A Contemporary Interpretation of Classical Rationalism based on Leo Strauss’ Perspective,” in Korean Political Science Review. As the title shows, this paper was developed from his dissertation. In 2001, he published the Korean translation of Natural Right and History, one of Strauss’s major works. This was the first Korean translation of Strauss’s works. Another major work by Strauss, What is Political Philosophy?, was translated into Korean by Professor Seung-Tae Yang at Ewha Women’s University in

Korean studies on Strauss  101 2002. Before this translation, he had not written anything directly related to Leo Strauss. I felt, however, through talking with him on many occasions, that he had a strong belief in the importance of the Straussian way of deep reading, that is, the word-by-word and sentence-by-sentence reading, although he was critical of Leo Strauss in some other respects. In the epilogue to his translation, he evaluates the achievement of Leo Strauss as follows: The most significant and practical contribution of Leo Strauss, which though it looks like the most common contribution, is to spread and institutionalize the academic attitude to reading the classics of political thought.… It is no exaggeration to say that Leo Strauss has sublimated the study of past political thought to a higher level and established it as a field of specialization and consolidated craftsmanship. (Leo Strauss, trans. Yang, 2002, 455) Professor Yang usually emphasizes the importance of the “philological understanding” of the classics, and I think that his approach is deeply influenced by the Straussian way of reading and thinking. In 2006, Strauss’s Thoughts on Machiavelli was translated into Korean by Kyu-Jin Hahm who was then a Ph.D. candidate at Sungkyunkwan University. I can say that he was not a specialist in Leo Strauss or Machiavelli, considering that his Ph.D. dissertation (in 2007) concerned Korean political thought in the Chosun Dynasty. With this translation published, Korean readers can easily access three major works by Strauss. Since then, there have been no more translations. In 2007, there appeared a Ph.D. dissertation on “Machiavelli’s republican leadership: moral revolution, obligation, and tyrant” by Jeong-Seog Ahn at Busan National University. By adopting the Straussian method of interpretation and by penetrating into Machiavelli’s two books, The Prince and The Discourse on the First Ten Books of Livy, Dr. Ahn claims that Machiavelli proposed a new kind of republican leadership based on prudence to establish “new modes and orders.” In my judgment, he shows a stronger commitment to, or a belief in, the Straussian way of thinking than any other scholar in Korea. During George W. Bush’s Administration (2001–2009), it was argued that American foreign policy was controlled or rather manipulated by a neoconservative group strongly influenced by Leo Strauss. Among Korean scholars specialized in American Government and its foreign policy, the roots and traits of ­neoconservatism became hot academic topics. At that time, Professor Byongjin Ahn (now in Kyunghee Cyber University) published an article, “Ideological Roots of Neo-conservatism and Their Political Implications: A Straussian Perspective,” in Democratic Society and Policy Studies (2004). In it, while accepting that Strauss had played a major role in shaping neoconservative minds, he tries to demonstrate a kind of inherent tension between Strauss and other neoconservatives who sought to apply Strauss’s premodern thoughts to contemporary American society. He extracts five characteristics of neoconservative ideology which include: (1) elitism, (2) absolute moralism, (3) civic virtue, (4) religion, and (5) fear and power.

102  Yong-Min Kim When the neoconservatives’ power was at its peak, journalist Seong-Rae Park published a book, Leo Strauss: Godfather of the Reviving Neo-conservatives. In this book the author thoroughly investigates the relationship between Leo Strauss and the neoconservatives acting in the Bush Administration, while predominantly depending on the works of Shadia Drury and Anne Norton (Drury 1988; Norton 2004). In the preface to the book, he acknowledges Professor Hong-Woo Kim as his guide to the Straussian way of reading, and Professor Byongjin Ahn for his introduction to Drury’s and Norton’s books. Park’s book is very journalistic and is full of criticisms of the neoconservatives. If we take into account his heavy dependence on Drury’s work, it can be said that his negative attitude towards the neoconservatives is inevitable. I think that he sees certain aspects of Leo Strauss, but fails to see him as a whole. Before closing this section, I want to discuss three scholars who are graduates of The University of Chicago and who happen to have Professor Nathan Tarcov as common adviser for their doctoral dissertations. They are Sungwoo Park and Jun-Hyok Kwak, as well as Yong-Min Kim mentioned above.10 Kim’s dissertation was on Rousseau, Park’s on Plato, and Kwak’s on Machiavelli. In their dissertations or the works which they have produced since they began to work in Korean academic society, I cannot find any particular article in which polemical arguments “for or against” the Straussian method had any significant part to play. In my opinion, they have in common the perspective that the Straussian way of reading is essential in studying political philosophy, but that a full commitment to the authority of Leo Strauss is problematic.

A review of some studies on Leo Strauss Among the scholars of the second generation, it is Professor Hong-Woo Kim who has written more works on Leo Strauss than any other scholar. His works include the following: (1) “A Phenomenological Critique of Leo Strauss by Reference to Hwa Yol Jung,” in Political Philosophy of Leo Strauss; (2) “A Polemical Argument between Leo Strauss and Hans-Georg Gadamer,” in HongWoo Kim, Phenomenology and Political Philosophy (1999); (3) “An Essay Concerning ‘A Political Treatise on Leo Strauss’,” a Ph.D. dissertation by the late Professor Young-Kook Kim,” in Political Science of Professor Insan Kim Young-Kook. In addition to these three articles, he deals with Leo Strauss’s theory of natural right in one part of his article, (4) “On the Destruction and Restoration of Ideas of Natural Right,” in Phenomenological Understanding of Korean Politics (2007). In article (1), Professor Hong-Woo Kim summarizes Professor Young-Kook Kim’s criticisms of “the criticisms of Leo Strauss” by Stanley Rothman, John H. Schaar, and Sheldon S. Wolin, and then summarizes Hwa Yol Jung’s several criticisms of Leo Strauss.11 After these summaries, Professor Hong-Woo Kim suggests critical comments on Jung’s approach: first, Jung is not consistent in arguing against Leo Strauss’s concept of philosophy, which is theory-oriented, egocentric, and monological. Contrary to his adverse position, it is pointed out

Korean studies on Strauss   103 that Jung himself sometimes agrees with Strauss’s concept of philosophy. Second, Jung’s emphasis on the unity of theory and practice does not apply to his own explanation of Heidegger’s Nazism. Third, although Jung claims that Strauss’s concept of the pre-scientific world is similar to Husserl’s concept of the life world, Professor Kim argues that the former concept is more similar to Husserl’s concept of natural attitude. In addition to these comments on Jung’s approach, Professor Kim remarks that there is a need to cautiously reconsider Strauss’s criticism of historicism which appears to deny the importance of history. Claiming that truth is not incompatible with history, Professor Kim emphasizes that elaboration of historical studies is definitely needed in philosophical studies. Article (2) is a brief summary of the polemical arguments between Strauss and Gadamer. It is pointed out that their arguments are focused on the problems of hermeneutics and historicism, and that Strauss takes the position of pre-­ historicist hermeneutics and anti-historicism, whereas Gadamer takes that of universal hermeneutics and historicism. I think that Professor Kim’s intention in this article is to emphasize the necessity of combining history and philosophy, as was indicated in article (1). In article (3), Professor Kim faithfully summarizes the doctoral dissertation of his teacher Young-Kook Kim. He quotes what Professor Young-Kook Kim said about the intention of his dissertation: This dissertation deals intensively with Leo Strauss’s theory of political philosophy and his criticisms of contemporary scientific political science. My study of Strauss’s theory is based on his What is Political Philosophy? in which he himself summarizes his philosophy, and I refer to his other writings to the extent that they are needed for me to interpret properly his bearings in the article above. And my criticisms of contemporary social sciences are based on Strauss’s criticisms of Max Weber and scientific political science, and I add several authoritative criticisms of Strauss’s theory. (H. W. Kim 2010, 144) Professor Hong-Woo Kim claims that the most important theme of YoungKook Kim’s dissertation is his emphasis on the necessity of reviving the “social sciences as the study of citizens”—that in fact it is similar to Strauss’s claim for the revival of political philosophy. Hong-Woo Kim summarizes his teacher’s theme as follows: To overcome the crises stemming from the specialization of social sciences and scientism, Professor Young-Kook Kim claims that the social sciences should make efforts to return to the common mode of thinking, that is the citizen’s way of thinking, and that the choice of research subject and the synthesis of research results should be determined with a view to the holistic ends of society. In other words, he says, the mother of the social sciences should be a mode for citizens, and she should be neither a universal

104  Yong-Min Kim s­ cientific concept nor a scientific method, because only with that motherly mode for citizens, can we understand the realities of society in the same way as the prudent and magnanimous citizen understands them. (Ibid., 172) The part on Leo Strauss in article (4) looks like an abstract of Strauss’s Natural Right and History. Professor Kim sketches Strauss’s criticisms of positivism and historicism in the first section and defends Strauss’s theory of natural right in the next section. Before this part on Strauss, Kim sketches Jacques ­Maritain’s theory of natural right. He claims these two philosophers are the modern defenders of natural right—Maritain supports it defensively whereas Strauss does so aggressively. I think that his chapter on Strauss is a very helpful guide to Natural Right and History, the understanding of which is not an easy job even for academics. It is no exaggeration to say that Professor Kim has contributed to the spread of Strauss’s thought and that he has encouraged his students in his class to practice the Straussian way of reading the classics. But I am afraid to say that his influence is still restricted to a small number of his own students. Today in Korea, reading texts in the Straussian way has been popularized at least among those scholars specialized in political philosophy, whether they like or hate the authentic teaching of Leo Strauss. This popularization of deep reading can be attributed to the scholars and translators mentioned above in the introduction. As Professor Byongjin Ahn remarked, the publication of Political Philosophy of Leo Strauss showed a significant development in Korean studies on Strauss. I have spoken already of those chapters written by Professor YoungKook Kim and Professor Hong-Woo Kim. The other contributors and their chapters are as follows: Yong-Min Kim, “Plato’s Political Philosophy”; HongKeun Yune, “A Reinterpretation of New Politics by Hobbes”; Dong-Soo Kim, “Interpretation and Appraisal of John Locke”; and Hong-Lim Ryu, “Nietzsche and the Crisis of Modernity.” It is beyond the scope of this review to summarize the contents of these chapters. Though major philosophers such as Plato, Machiavelli, Hobbes, Locke, and Nietzsche are dealt with in the book, it is regrettable that such philosophers as Aristotle, Xenophon, Spinoza, Burke, and Rousseau are not: I hope that these philosophers will be explored in a sequel to Political Philosophy of Leo Strauss in the near future.

Concluding remarks In October 2010, a paper about Leo Strauss was presented in the monthly seminar hosted by the Korean Society for Political Thought. The paper title is “Some Implications of Leo Strauss’s Ideas on International Relations: On the Basis of Thucydides’s Description of Athenian Manners and Spartan Manners.” The presenter was Dr. Jeong-Seog Ahn, and the discussant Professor Sungwoo Park. The fact that Strauss’s ideas are still subject of academic arguments is a good sign, I think, that the study on Strauss is deepening in academic circles.

Korean studies on Strauss  105 On December 28, 2010, and on September 14–15, 2012 respectively, international workshops on “Leo Strauss in a Northeast Asian Context” were held in Seoul, Korea. These workshops contributed to mutual understanding between scholars in Korea, China, and Japan on the reception of Leo Strauss in East Asia and on the current situation of teaching and research on him. As a participant in these workshops, I learned new facts about how Leo Strauss had been received in Japan and China and how much studies of him had accumulated in these countries and how many books by Strauss had been translated into their own languages. Professor Nathan Tarcov who presented his paper on “Leo Strauss and the Problems of Political Philosophy: A Brief Survey” in the September workshop above had another occasion to express the same theme to the members of the Korean Society for Political Thought on September 15, and Professor Seung-Tae Yang as a discussant made some remarks on Professor Tarcov’s view in his prepared article titled “Doing Political Philosophy and Thinking in History of Political Philosophy: Some Remarks on Nathan Tarcov’s version of Straussianism.”12 For me, the debate between the two scholars was very impressive. But I could not evaluate the extent to which the debate between these two scholars had an influence or impact on the recognition of Straussianism by the Korean audiences. However, I think Professor Tarcov’s visit to Korea and his speech on Straussianism will be remembered as a significant moment in the history of the reception of Strauss’s political philosophy. After this, to my knowledge, there have been almost no further papers or books dealing with the theme of Straussianism,13 and no more Korean translations of Strauss’s works. As a scholar with experience of Straussian teaching, I hope that not only the studies of Strauss himself but also studies of philosophers grounded on the Straussian method of reading and thinking will accumulate and deepen in the near future. At this moment, I wish that a Korean translation of Liberalism Ancient and Modern which will take its place beside What is Political Philosophy? will be published by a certain Straussian-affiliated scholar, because I think that without a liberal education, a main theme of Liberalism Ancient and Modern, the future of political philosophy and liberal democracy will be uncertain.

Notes   1 He is the author of the following books: Leo Strauss and the Theologico-Political Problem (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006); Carl Schmitt and Leo Strauss: The Hidden Dialogues (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2006); Gesammelte Schriften, 6 Bde., Die Denkbewegung von Leo Strauss (Germany: Metzler, 1996).   2 His life, works, and teaching is well summarized in Political Science of Professor Insan Young-Kook Kim (Kyunggi-do: Ingansarang, 2010), published in memory of the late Professor Young-Kook Kim by his students.   3 For his biography, refer to “The Life and Academic Achievements of Professor Insan Young-Kook Kim,” the first chapter of the book mentioned above, written by Hakjoon Kim.   4 It was published in the Collection of Articles for 60th Birthday of Professor Byongtae Min (Seoul: Gonsam Memorial Editing Board, 1973).

106   Yong-Min Kim   5 For Professor Min’s life and works, refer to Hakjoon Kim, Poltical Science of Professor Gongsam Min Byung-tae (Seoul: Seoul National University Press, 2013).   6 This paper is reprinted in his book, In Search of a Self-Referential Political Science (Seoul: Oreum, 1999, pp. 270–301). The quotation appears on page 301.   7 At that time, Hong-Woo Kim was a professor at Seoul National University; DongSoo Kim a professor at Education Center for Korean Unification; Yong-Min Kim a lecturer (now a professor at Hankuk University of Foreign Studies); Hong-Kuen Yune a professor at Seoul National University of Technology; and Hong-Lim Ryu a professor at Seoul National University. Professor Hong-Woo Kim was the leader of these writers. He retired in 2007. Now, he is Professor Emeritus at Seoul National University and a member of The National Academy of Sciences.   8 It can be said that Professor Hong-Woo Kim is the leader of the second generation.   9 Dr. Hong is now a professor at Hankuk University of Foreign Studies. 10 Professor Kim got his Ph.D. in 1993, Park in 2002, and Kwak in 2002. 11 Professor Hwa Yol Jung of Moravian College is a famous political phenomenologist. Concerning the polemical arguments against Leo Strauss, he published four major articles. Cf. Politcal Philosophy of Leo Strauss, 89–90. 12 Tarcov’s papers are included in this book. 13 An exception could be found in Professor Sungwoo Park’s 2014 book, Politics as a Soul Caring: The Origin and the Developments of Plato’s Political Philosophy, which was written under the influence of Straussian teaching.

References Ahn, Byongjin. 2004. “Ideological Roots of Neoconservatism and Their Political Implications: A Straussian Perspective,” Democratic Society and Policy Studies 5, 49–73. Ahn, Jeong-Seog. 2007. “Machiavelli’s Republican Leadership: Moral Revolution, Obligation, and Tyrant.” Ph.D. dissertation. Busan National University. Ahn, Jeong-Seog. 2010. “Some Implications of Leo Strauss’s Ideas on International Relations: On the Basis of Thucydides’s Description of Athenian Manners and Spartan Manners.” A paper presented at the monthly meeting of the Korean Society for Political Thought in October, 2010. Drury, Shadia B. 1988. The Political Ideas of Leo Strauss. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Gongsam Memorial Editing Board. 1973. Collection of Articles for the 60th Birthday of Professor Min Byung-tae. Seoul. Hahm, Kyu-Jin (trans.). 2006. Leo Strauss’s Thoughts on Machiavelli. Seoul: ­Kuwoonmong. Hong, Won-Pyo. 1992a. “The Contemporary Interpretation of Classical Political Rationalism in the Works of Leo Strauss, Eric Voegelin, and Hannah Arendt.” Ph.D. dissertation. Hankuk University of Foreign Studies. Hong, Won-Pyo. 1992b. “A Contemporary Interpretation of Classical Rationalism based on Leo Strauss’s Perspective,” Korean Political Science Review 26:1, 195–219. Hong, Won-Pyo. (trans.). 2001. Leo Strauss’s Natural Right and History. Seoul: Ingansarang. Insan Memorial Committee (ed.). 2010. Political Science of Professor Insan Kim YoungKook. Kyunggi-do: Ingansarang. Kim, Dong-Soo. 1995. “Interpretation and Appraisal of John Locke,” in Political Philosophy of Leo Strauss, edited by Young-Kook Kim. Seoul: Seoul National University Press. Kim, Hakjoon. 2013. Political Science of Professor Gongsam Min Byong-tae. Seoul: Seoul National University Press. Kim, Hong-Woo. 1995. “A Phenomenological Critique against Leo Strauss by Reference to Hwa Yol Jung,” in Political Philosophy of Leo Strauss, edited by Young-Kook Kim. Seoul: Seoul National University Press.

Korean studies on Strauss  107 Kim, Hong-Woo. 1999. “A Polemical Arguments between Leo Strauss and Hans-Georg Gadamer,” in Phenomenology and Political Philosophy, edited by Hong-Woo Kim. Seoul: Munhakkwajeesungsa. Kim, Hong-Woo. 2007. “On Destruction and Restoration of Ideas of Natural Right,” in Phenomenological Understanding of Korean Politics, edited by Hong-Woo Kim. Kyunggi-do: Ingansarang. Kim, Hong-Woo. 2010. “An Essay Concerning ‘A Political Treatise on Leo Strauss.’ Ph.D. Dissertation by the Late Professor Young-Kook Kim,” in Political Science of Professor Insan Kim Young-Kook, edited by Insan Memorial Committee. Kyunggi-do: Ingansarang. Kim, Yong-Min. 1995. “Plato’s Political Philosophy,” in Political Philosophy of Leo Strauss, edited by Young-Kook Kim. Seoul: Seoul National University Press. Kim, Young-Kook. 1972. “A Political Treatise on Leo Strauss.” Ph.D. dissertation. Seoul National University. Kim, Young-Kook. 1979. “On Leo Strauss,” in Contemporary Social Thinkers, edited by the Korea Institute for Social Sciences. Seoul: Mineumsa. Kim, Young-Kook. 1983. “A Review of Machiavelli’s Political Thought on the Basis of Leo Strauss’s Interpretation,” Korean Political Science Review 17, 3–17. Kim, Young-Kook (ed.). 1995. Political Philosophy of Leo Strauss. Seoul: Seoul National University Press. Kim, Young-Kook. 1995. Machiavelli and The Prince. Seoul: Seoul National University Press. Korea Institute for Social Sciences (ed.). 1979. Contemporary Social Thinkers. Seoul: Mineumsa. Moon, Syng-Ek. 1968. “The Anti-Science Position: The Theses against Positivist Political Science in Some Contemporary Political Writings.” Ph.D. dissertation. Florida State University. Moon, Syng-Ek. 1977. “A Study on Leo Strauss: An Idealist’s Arguments against Positivist Political Science,” Journal of Chung-Ang University 21, 293‒316. Moon, Syng-Ek. 1999. In Search of a Self-referential Political Science. Seoul: Oreum. Norton, Anne. 2004. Leo Strauss and the Politics of American Empire. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Park, Seong-Rae. 2005. Leo Strauss: Godfather of the Reviving Neoconservatives. Seoul: Kimyoungsa. Park, Sungwoo. 2014. Politics as a Soul Caring: The Origin and the Developments of Plato’s Political Philosophy. Kyunggi-do: Ingansarang. Ryu, Hong-Lim. 1995. “Nietzsche and the Crisis of Modernity,” in Political Philosophy of Leo Strauss, edited by Young-Kook Kim. Seoul: Seoul National University Press. Strauss, Leo. 1952. Persecution and the Art of Writing. Glencoe, IL: Free Press. Strauss, Leo. 1953. Natural Right and History. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1958. Thoughts on Machiavelli. Glencoe, IL: Free Press. Strauss, Leo. 1959. What is Political Philosophy? Glencoe, IL: Free Press. Strauss, Leo. 1964. The City and Man. Chicago, IL: Rand and McNally. Strauss, Leo. 1968. Liberalism Ancient and Modern. New York: Basic Books. Tarcov, Nathan. 2012. “Leo Strauss and the Problems of Political Philosophy: A Brief Survey.” A paper presented at the monthly meeting of the Korean Society for Political Thought in September. Yang, Seung-Tae (trans.). 2002. Leo Strauss’s What is Political Philosophy? Seoul: Acanet.

108  Yong-Min Kim Yang, Seung-Tae. 2012. “Doing Political Philosophy and Thinking in History of Political Philosophy: Some Remarks on Nathan Tarcov’s Version of Straussianism.” A discussant paper presented at the monthly meeting of the Korean Society for Political Thought in September. Yune, Hong-Keun. 1995. “A Reinterpretation of New Politics by Hobbes.” Young-Kook Kim (ed.) Political Philosophy of Leo Strauss. Seoul: Seoul National University Press.

7 Leo Strauss and ancient Chinese wisdom An encounter not yet actuated Shiqi Tang

This chapter compares classical Western rationalism reconstructed by Leo Strauss and traditional Chinese wisdom in three aspects: the hierarchy of human souls and its political relevance; esotericism; and the relation between philosophy and politics. On this basis, it demonstrates that Strauss has unintentionally pushed Western political philosophy to the point from which a creative encounter, even if not yet actuated, with ancient Chinese thinking can be envisioned.1 This is not to say, however, that a Straussian would move smoothly through this point “from the West to the East” because there still exists an element which even makes it impossible for him to share some perspectives of Ancient Chinese wisdom which maintain that everything changes: his conception of the essence of beings which requires “to be is to be always,” a conception still strictly within the traditional framework of Western metaphysics. Thus, the problem is to show how ancient Chinese thinking can adopt an open understanding of the world and human beings while insisting on some definite moral principles. The answer to this problem may supplement Strauss’s efforts.

The hierarchy of human souls and its political relevance Strauss never hesitates to declare that there exists a hierarchy of human souls as manifestation of the principle of natural right without any consideration of “political correctness” (Strauss 1953, 127). According to him, “Men are by nature different, and this proved to mean that men are by nature of unequal rank. They are unequal particularly with regard to their ability to acquire virtue” (Strauss 1987, 49). That is to say, men’s achievements in their moral improvement are predetermined by nature, by their “natural constitution,” thus any endeavor to make people equal (especially in morality, and thus in politics) is simply artificial and will finally prove to be a failure. This assertion of the existence of a natural hierarchy of human souls is the starting point of Strauss’s whole political philosophy from which two conclusions are inferred. First, some human souls can be improved. Because the improvement of human souls needs special social conditions, so “the chief purpose of the city is the noble life and therefore the chief concern of the city must be the virtue of its members and hence liberal education” (Strauss 1978, 31).

110  Shiqi Tang Second, the moral heights which persons finally achieve are determined to be different, thus a corresponding political order (constitution, regime) should be created in accordance with this natural hierarchy (Strauss 1968b, 21). In helping to promote the realization of the moral potential of the whole society, this political order will not only encourage the more capable to make efforts in their moral cultivation by rewarding them with a higher and more honorable rank, but also ensure that the worse are kept in their places with coercion (Strauss 1958, 254). Coercion is indispensable because “[m]an is so built that he cannot achieve the perfection of his humanity except by keeping down his lower impulses. He cannot rule his body by persuasion” (Strauss 1953, 132–133). A constitution (regime) which provides the conditions for the best to rule is the best regime, and “the good city comes to resemble a caste society” (Strauss 1987, 49). It is from this understanding that Strauss puts forward his fierce criticism of modern political philosophy. According to him, modern political philosophy has lost the spiritual aspiration of the ancients and deprived political life of its moral dimension with the negation of a teleological understanding of the human soul; at the same time, it intentionally lowers the standards of political philosophy as well as politics with the affirmation of equal rights and liberty for all human beings. Because all men are equal, i.e. because there is no natural order in general, and therefore no natural gradation of mankind, the difference between the wise minority and the unwise majority loses the fundamental importance it had for traditional political philosophy. (Strauss 1963, 101–102) Believing that no efforts can exalt human souls to the same height, Strauss firmly opposes the aim of the modern Enlightenment. He argues that the real effect of the Enlightenment is not a universal alleviation of human intelligence, but the degradation of philosophy to the status of a handmaid “devoted to the relief of man’s estate” (Strauss 1978, 42). The instrumentalization of philosophy has indeed brought about great changes in nature and human society, that is, material enrichment, but it has to pay too high a price in forsaking its independence, its pride of quiet contemplation, its strength to legitimize itself confronting the challenge of religion, and finally slipping into relativism and even nihilism. As Meier points out: In the supposedly amicable cooperation and coexistence of the economy, politics, religion, art science, and so on, philosophy loses the serious alternatives, and with them fades the awareness that philosophy is a special way of life. In the world of modern culture that it decisively helped to bring about, philosophy is less equipped than ever to carry out the confrontation with revelation successfully and to justify its right and its necessity rationally. (Meier 2006, 10)

Strauss and ancient Chinese wisdom  111 The variety of human souls, which is reflected in the distinction between “gentleman (man of complete virtue)” and “small man (vulgar person),” also makes a starting point for ancient Chinese thinking, especially Confucianism, in its social and political observations. From this, three important propositions are deduced. First, the “gentleman” and the “vulgar person” have quite different spiritual aspirations. “The gentleman is versed in what is moral. The small man is versed in what is profitable” (Confucius 1979, 4.16). Second, this difference in the social scale cannot be eliminated by human efforts. “It is only the most intelligent and the most stupid who cannot be budged” (Confucius 1979, 17.3). Third, the perception of this difference is the basis for any effectual political institutions as well as actions. Confucius proposes that “the penal statutes do not go up to great officers, men who have suffered punishment should not (be allowed to) be by the side of the ruler” (The Li Ki 1885, 90), which implies that different procedures should be adopted for dealing with people of different ranks. From this perception of human souls, ancient Chinese wisdom sees very clearly the limit of education, that is, enlightenment, because the material interests of “vulgar persons” cannot be simply rejected—“the things which men greatly desire are comprehended in meat and drink and sexual pleasure” (The Li Ki 1885, 380), and thus refuses any utopian fanaticism. Ancient Chinese sages, however, differ from Strauss in that, although they affirm that human souls have different moral heights, at the same time they insist that “all men are capable of becoming a Yao or a Shun”2 (Mencius 1970, 172), because “Yao and Shun were the same as anyone else” (Mencius 1970, 136). So according to ancient Chinese thinking, this difference is the result of people’s different degrees of endeavor in cultivating their personal virtues rather than predetermined by their natures. This thus opens a vast space for the industrious to elevate their virtuous spirit, and at the same time frames a multi-leveled politics to provide statesmen with the much greater latitude which Strauss believes to be found in the work of Montesquieu (Strauss 1953, 164). Confucius maintains: “Men are close to one another by nature. They drift apart through behavior that is constantly repeated” (Confucius 1979, 17.2) From this observation, Confucianism insists that “in instruction there is no grading into categories” (Confucius 1979, 15.39), because every “vulgar person” has the possibility to change himself into a “gentleman” through accepting the latter’s education or imitating the latter’s moral behavior. Humanity or human nature is thus a kind of potentiality rather than a readymade substance, a “being projected into the future” in a Heideggerian term rather than “being at present.” There arises the question of why Strauss insists that the difference among human souls is rooted in their nature rather than adopting a more open attitude like that of Confucianism. The answer may lie in his understanding of Nature which is believed to be unchangeable. According to him, some souls can be improved, a small number of them can be educated into gentlemen, and a few among the gentlemen can further be educated into philosophers. This is a natural process of soul fulfillment but not soul transformation. Strauss denies the possibility of changing human nature, because he holds that if human souls

112  Shiqi Tang are malleable without limits, then they can be equally turned into angels as well as devils. He points out in his analysis of Rousseau’s theory of human nature that questioning the traditional view that man is the rational animal, he found the peculiarity of man in his perfectibility or, more generally stated, his malleability. This led to the conclusions that the human race is what we wish to make it and that human nature cannot supply us with guidance as to how man and human society ought to be. Strauss believes that this position, developed later by Kant, had laid the foundation of historicism (Strauss 1983b, 145–146).

Esotericism According to Strauss, in addition to self-protection in a society without free speech, ancient political philosophers (including some modern ones, such as Rousseau and Lessing, etc.) adopted esotericism for two further considerations: their social responsibility and an effective philosophical education. First is the social responsibility of philosophers. The variety of people’s spiritual heights determines their different levels of understanding of truth, or truth cannot be equally understood by everyone. As a result, what combines society into a whole cannot be truth but traditions, myths, or religions, that is, opinions that should be accepted by all ranks. Philosophy, as the endeavor to replace opinions with knowledge, is necessarily in conflict with, even dangerous to society. Modern Enlightenment failed just because that philosophy, while not being able to actually enlighten the majority of the people, has dissolved the opinions “in which society breathes” (Strauss 1973, 222), and thus deprived them of the foundation of moral principles and religious beliefs. The failure of the Enlightenment or the self-destruction of modern rationalism has back-handedly legitimated the strategy adopted by ancient philosophers to conceal philosophical truth from the majority of society. They concealed the truth from the vulgar … because they considered the vulgar to be unfit to digest the truth: the large majority of men, the philosophers of the past thought, would be deprived of the very basis of their morality if they were to lose their beliefs. They considered it then not only a matter of fear and safety, but also a matter of duty to hide the truth from the majority of mankind. (Strauss 1939, 535) Ancient philosophers were thus “driven to employ a peculiar manner of writing which would enable them to reveal what they regard as the truth to the few, without endangering the unqualified commitment of the many to the opinions on which society rests” (Strauss 1973, 222).

Strauss and ancient Chinese wisdom   113 A deeper consideration shows that philosophy does not actually provide truth. Strauss emphasizes more than once that philosophy is a way of life, is the seeking after truth but not truth itself: Philosophy as such is nothing but genuine awareness of the problems, i.e., of the fundamental and comprehensive problems … [A]s long as there is no wisdom but only quest for wisdom, the evidence of all solutions is necessarily smaller than the evidence of the problems. Therefore the philosopher ceases to be a philosopher at the moment at which the ‘subjective certainty’ of a solution becomes stronger than his awareness of the problematic character of that solution. (Strauss 1968a, 210) In other words, philosophers have no truth ready in their hands to teach the vulgar. What they do have are problems, even problems intimating some possible answers. Thus, a true philosopher is qualified when he is able to lead a moral life while doubting all the things around him. This requires the highest performance of moderation, and it would be far beyond the reach of ordinary people. When we say that most of the people cannot understand philosophical thinking, we do not mean that philosophy makes no sense to them. Rather, they would draw their own conclusions from what they are taught, and act accordingly. But because they do not have the virtue of moderation or prudence either in their thought or in their action, they would go to extremes. If a philosopher publicizes in broad daylight the “truth” he believes he has found (no matter his doubt or his certainty, both necessarily hazardous to opinion, the element of society), as most philosophers have done since Machiavelli, then he would not only forfeit his qualification as philosopher, but also irresponsibly throw the mass into a sea of uncertainty. Strauss explains the reason why Plato always uses the form of the dialogue, and never speaks in his own name, to elaborate his thinking: “he was doubtful whether there can be a philosophic teaching proper. Perhaps he, too, thought like his master Socrates that philosophy is in the last analysis knowledge of ignorance” (Strauss 1987, 33). A clear understanding of the limits of philosophy and philosophical teaching makes the classical philosophers believe that “[a] political teaching which address itself equally to decent and indecent men would have appeared … form the outset as unpolitical, that is, as politically, or socially, irresponsible” (Strauss 1989b: 73). Second is the effectiveness of philosophical education. It is quite clear for classical philosophers that real communication among human beings is far from unconditional; rather, it only happens among similar minds. As Strauss observes, the moral distinction between good and evil, just and unjust, and their relevance to politics “cannot be ‘demonstrated,’ they are exposed to grave theoretical doubts. Accordingly, classical political philosophy limited itself to addressing men who, because of their natural inclinations as well as their upbringing, took those distinctions for granted” (Strauss 1989b, 58). This fact

114  Shiqi Tang makes philosophers as educators speak selectively, or talk to different people differently. “If irony is essentially related to the fact that there is a natural order of rank among men, it follows that irony consists in speaking differently to different kinds of people” (Strauss 1978, 51). The infeasibility of open communication determines that the most effective way of education is face-to-face interlocution, that is, Socratic dialectics. Writing as a means to transmit thought is only adopted as an unqualified substitute for dialogue by philosophers in unfavorable conditions, as Strauss demonstrates in the case of Maimonides. So philosophers who write naturally, do their best to make their works read like dialogues, that is, produce different meanings for different readers. The essential defect of writings is inflexibility. Since Plato, in contradistinction to Socrates, did produce writing, one is entitled to assume that the Platonic dialogues are meant to be writings which are free form the essential defect of writings. They are writings which, if properly read, reveal themselves to possess the flexibility of speech, and they are properly read if the necessity of every part of them becomes clear. The Platonic dialogues do say, and they are meant to say, different things to different men. (Strauss 1989a, 151)3 In other words, esoteric writing is a kind of multi-layered writing, “some that are meant for friends, others for strangers” (Orr 1996, 26). Additionally, esotericism is also a heuristic way of writing. It induces readers of competence to dig into the texts and find out the teaching of the author step-by-step with their own efforts. By making the discovered truth almost as inaccessible as it was before it had been discovered, they prevented—to call a vulgar thing by a vulgar name—the cheap sale of the formulations of the truth: nobody should know even the formulations of the truth who had not rediscovered the truth by his own exertions, if aided by subtle suggestions from a superior teacher. It is in this way that the classical authors became the most efficient teachers of independent thinking. (Strauss 1939, 535) In the last analysis, Strauss tends to think that authentic communication on the highest level is beyond language. It is not only individualistic, but also soul to soul, mind to mind mutual understanding. In the last paragraph of his Liberalism Ancient and Modern we read that Pharisaic rabbinical Judaism always held that the written Torah must be understood in the light of the oral or unwritten Torah, and the most profound reason for this is that the most profound truth cannot be written and not even said: what Israel heard at Sinai from God Himself “was nothing

Strauss and ancient Chinese wisdom  115 but that [inaudible] Aleph with which in the Hebrew text of the Bible the First Commandment begins.” (Strauss 1968b, 272) In this direction Strauss has gone beyond the linguistic centralism of the Western philosophical tradition, bordering on the Eastern wisdom much more than Heidegger. As he maintains: “[T]he distinction between speeches and deeds, and the implication that the deeds are more trustworthy than the speeches, is basic for the understanding of works like the Platonic dialogues” (Strauss 1989a, 152). The Chinese sages provide ample evidence of esotericism. Confucius himself is a master of this art of writing and speaking, who always insists that the forms and contents of writing and speaking should be determined by time, places, circumstances and especially the readers or listeners: “When the Way prevails in the state, speak and act with perilous high-mindedness; when the Way does not prevail, act with perilous high-mindedness but speak with self-effacing diffidence” (Confucius 1979, 14.3). Most Chinese intellectuals are familiar with, and participate in the tradition of “expressing significant meaning with subtle wording” or “style of the Spring and Autumn”4 initiated by Confucius. Confucius makes no detailed explanation why he adopts this writing style. However, from the logic of his own thinking, one may speculate several reasons for his choice. First, Confucius himself continuously emphasizes that one should speak and act strictly according to his status and position. The evaluations he makes in the Spring and Autumn Annals on the rich and the superior evidently go beyond his status, so he has to cover them under subtle wording. Second, Confucius proposes to “treat the exalted, ducal relatives, and the worthy with great consideration for their reputations” (Gongyang Gao 2015), which means not to criticize directly those who are superior and sagacious, and those who are close to oneself, thus “fathers cover up for their sons, and sons cover up for their fathers” (Confucius 1979, 13.18). Besides these reasons, the basic consideration of his adoption of esoteric writing is nonetheless the different spiritual height of the readers. “You can tell those who are above average about the best, but not those who are below average” (Confucius 1979, 6.21). As a matter of fact, Confucius makes a clear expectation on the intellectual as well as moral qualifications of those who would understand his writing. They should “know the books and perform the rites,” understand the destiny, and know how to take his stand5 (Confucius 1979, 20.3). The first principle of Confucius’s education theory is “teaching accordingly,” which means to teach the students according to their family backgrounds, their levels of learning, and their characters. In The Analects, Confucius answers the same question raised by different students differently (11 times about “ren”— humanity, five times about “xiao”—filial piety, three times about “junzi”—­ gentleman). Zhuxi, a distinguished Confucian scholar in the Song Dynasty, explains why Confucius answers differently to the same question about filial piety raised

116   Shiqi Tang by two students (Zsze Yu and Tsze Hea) that “Tsze Hea was correct and just, but somewhat wanting in mildness and pliability. Each was taught according to the superiority, or inferiority of his talents, and according to his shortcomings” (Confucius, Mencius 1970, 67). “Teaching accordingly” has further implications than that. Confucius not only teaches different students differently, but also teaches the same student differently according to his actual situation, his progress in intelligence and morality. In The Analects we read the following dialogue between Confucius and his student Zi-gong: Zi-gong said: “Poor without obsequious, wealthy without being arrogant,” What do you think of this saying? The Master said: That will do, but better still “Poor yet delighting in the Way, wealthy yet observant of the rites.” Zi-gong said, The Odes say, “Like bone cut, like horn polished, Like jade carved, like stone ground.” Is not what you have said a case in point? The Master said, Ci, only with a man like you can one discuss the Odes. (Confucius 1979, 1.15) Zi-gong uses verses in the Odes to describe persistence in moral cultivation; Confucius, realizing that his student has begun to understand the Odes underneath the ostensible words, judges that a communication on the Odes between them can be established. It is clear that Confucius, like Plato, attaches great importance to the “nature of soul” of the interlocutors. He would “look at the means a man employs, observe the path he takes and examine where he feels at home” (Confucius 1979, 2.10). The difference, however, between them is that the former has a much more profound perception of the limits of language and then prefers seeing deeds rather than listening to the utterances of other people. Confucius maintains more than once that deeds are more reliable than words: “I used to take on trust a man’s deeds after having listened to his words. Now having listened to a man’s words I go on to observe his deeds” (Confucius 1979, 5.10). “It is rare, indeed, for a man with cunning words and an ingratiating countenance to be benevolent” (Confucius 1979, 1.3). “It is desirable for a gentleman to be slow of speech but quick in action” (Confucius 1979, 4.24). At one time he even declares that “I am thinking of giving up speech,” because “what does Heaven ever say? Yet there are the four seasons going round and there are the hundred things coming into being. What does Heaven ever say?” (Confucius 1979, 17.19). According to Confucius, the most efficient way of teaching would be that described by Lao Zi. “There the sage keeps to the deed that consists in taking no action and practices the teaching that uses no words” (Lao Tzu 1963, 6). It naturally follows that Confucius highlights “teaching by deeds” rather than “teaching by words,” and recommends observing and imitating good deeds than linguistic communication and persuasion. He commands his students that “when you meet someone better than yourself, turn your thoughts to becoming

Strauss and ancient Chinese wisdom  117 his equal. When you meet someone not as good as you are, look within and examine your own self” (Confucius 1979, 4.17). It is just because Confucians believe that “deeds” have much stronger power than words, so they appear much more optimistic than Strauss who mainly focuses on the working of language. Confucius presumes that “by nature the gentleman is like wind and the small man like grass. Let the wind sweep over the grass and it is sure to bend” (­Confucius 1979, 12.19). A deeper awareness of the limits of language as a communicative instrument, and the possibility of trans-linguistic interaction, this is one of the basic characters of ancient Chinese wisdom. Almost all the Chinese sages believe that wisdom at the highest level is beyond language, as Lao Zi says: “The way that can be spoken of is not the constant way; the name that can be named is not the constant name” (Lao Tzu 1963, 5). This attitude to language distinguishes ­Chinese thinking from its Western counterpart most clearly. While the latter has been continuously putting all its strength into clarifying concepts of things through logic and linguistic operations, the former prefers understanding nature and human beings through practical participation, through establishing a process of mutual action between subject and object. Western philosophy contributes to human thinking the clarity of logics and concepts, and the price it pays is a precise description of human action (both of mind and body), and the depth and width for mind communication.

Politics and philosophy From the judgment that not all souls can be elevated to the height of philosophy, Strauss insists that elements of politics must be “opinions” rather than truth, consequently, the body politic can only be a closed, particular society, because truth is the one, and opinions are the many (Strauss 1983a, 107–108). The socalled “universal homogeneous state” is nothing but a utopia, leading to a general degradation of humanity, universal tyranny, and end of philosophy (Strauss 1968a, 226). An open or all-comprehensive society will exist on a lower level of humanity than a closed society.… The prospects for the existence of a good society is therefore greater if there is a multitude of independent societies than if there is only one independent society. (Strauss 1953, 131–132) Recognizing the relativity of politics in the philosophical sense, while firmly rejecting philosophical relativism, this is the fundamental principle of Straussian political philosophy. For this purpose, he adopts a strategy to separate politics from philosophy. Politics is assigned to the field of particularity and relativity, which would be guided by practical wisdom; while the field of universality and absoluteness is exclusively remained for philosophy, which is understood as “a way of life.”

118  Shiqi Tang This strategy should be highly evaluated on several considerations. First, it uproots the utopia constructed by modern political rationalism, and helps to overcome the threat forced upon the human spirit by a “modern tyranny.” Strauss maintains time and again that classical political philosophy realizes that politics is imperfect and evil cannot be totally eradicated through political means, therefore it merely poses a moderate aim for itself. Or in other words, classical political philosophy has not fallen into extremism and fanaticism just because it realizes that people cannot cherish much too high an expectancy of politics (Strauss 1989b, 25). From the standpoint of classical political philosophy, Strauss argues that the “elementary and unobtrusive conditions of human freedom” (Strauss 1968, 26–27) can be maintained in a modern society only when philosophy admits its own limits and pursues a moderate path in politics. Second, separating philosophy from politics also helps the former to liberate itself from the bondage of dogmatism, and redeems its essence of a liberal, private, and independent searching for truth. Strauss’s assertion that philosophy is the knowledge of ignorance should be understood as an unloading of the dogmatic burden forced upon it since the modern Enlightenment, rather than philosophy’s resignation from its highest position in human wisdom. Strauss argues that according to Platonic philosophy, man is incapable of acquiring full wisdom; that the very name of philosophy—a quest for wisdom, love of wisdom—indicates that wisdom proper is not accessible to men. Or to use the other formula, philosophy is knowledge of ignorance rather than the complete system. (Strauss 2001, 4) The unsystematic essence of philosophy requires it to remain always an unfinished and unfinishable task of acquiring wisdom. Certainly, as Strauss maintains, the knowledge of ignorance itself is not ignorance, it is a deeper understanding of the problematic character of any answer to the fundamental problem concerning the essence of the whole. He quotes Pascal to clarify the noesis status of philosophers that “[w]e know too little to be dogmatists and too much to be skeptics” (Strauss 2001, 4), implying that the virtue of philosophy is also moderation or prudence.6 Third, the separation of philosophy from politics also makes it possible for politics to reaffirm its own basis and logics, and provides statesmen with a much wider sphere of autonomous action. Strauss demonstrates that the basis of politics is opinions; it cannot and should not be replaced by philosophical truth. Being not totally true, opinions are salutary for political life: “[t]he political is indeed not the highest, but it is the first, because it is the most urgent” (Strauss 1989a, 133). The best regime which is practicable is, as a result, that which empowers the wise man to persuade with coercion the unwise to be virtuous, while making sure that his rule is voluntarily accepted. “The political problem consists in reconciling the requirement for wisdom with the requirement for consent” (Strauss 1953, 141).

Strauss and ancient Chinese wisdom  119 Compared with the philosophical “madness,” the virtue of politics is “sobriety or moderation” (Strauss 1989b, 30). “Moderation” and “prudence” are two words which appear most frequently in the works of Strauss. They constitute the cardinal principles of political action as well as political philosophizing, aiming to achieve a “harmony between the excellence of man and the excellence of the citizen, or between wisdom and law-abidingness” (ibid., 30). According to Strauss, Socrates is the founder of political philosophy just because he is the first philosopher who perceived the fundamental distinction between political and non-political things, which means “a return from madness to sanity or sobriety, or, to use the Greek term, Sophrosyne, which I would translate as moderation”7 (Strauss 1989a, 142). The separation of politics and philosophy requires that they be measured by different standards. “Philosophy is as such transpolitical, transreligious, and transmoral, but the city is and ought to be moral and religious” (Strauss and Klein 1997, 463). Moderation and prudence lead to a political (not philosophical) understanding of morality. Morality in any positive sense was derivative from and relative to the political, but also a necessary aspect of it. Yet morality, as a set of specific dictates, and by definition conventional, could not transcend the political order. It was the beliefs and opinions of, hopefully, the best (most prudent, wise, realistic, just) men in a regime. It was not something discovered by philosophy. (Gunnell 1993, 124) Strauss believes that this strategy to distance philosophy from politics would make sure that they benefit rather than harm each other. Socrates led the philosophic life although he was an active member of a political community which he considered very imperfect. Or, to state this fact in the language of a medieval philosopher, one can live in solitude both by retiring from the world completely and by partaking of the political community, of the city, be that city excellent or defective. (Strauss 1980, 116–117) One of Strauss’s basic propositions is that the attempt of modern philosophy to transform politics thoroughly according to some rational blueprint has not only brought about various political tragedies, but also damaged philosophy itself, leading to the “self-destruction of rationalism” (Strauss 1997, 31). Strauss reminds his readers that the most profound philosopher in the twentieth century is Heidegger, but his image is a Nazi (Strauss 1997a, 450; Strauss and Klein 1997, 461). This can be read as an exoteric teaching of Strauss which warns against the consequences if a philosopher fails to distinguish philosophy from politics and cannot behave himself. However, this strategy to separate philosophy from politics also pays its price. On the one hand, politics separated from philosophy in the last analysis

120  Shiqi Tang inevitably tends to be a politics of relativism. Although Strauss, like the classical philosophers, judges that the best regime should promote the fulfillment of human nature, and guarantee the identity of the good man and good citizen, he also recognizes any regime which is in agreement with its concrete circumstances to be legitimate. “There is only one best regime, but there is a variety of legitimate regimes. The variety of legitimate regimes corresponds to the variety of types of relevant circumstances” (Strauss 1953, 139–140). It seems that Strauss has brought forward two independent criteria to measure any existing regime: its goodness and its legitimacy. The result of this duality is that we would find a good but illegitimate regime if people force the constitution of the best regime into practice under unfavorable conditions. Likewise, we can also find legitimate but bad regimes. The problem, however, is that from this consideration, a good but illegitimate regime would be less preferable than a bad but legitimate one, because the latter might be a best possible choice under given circumstances. This preference would make the discussion of the best regime at some point not only meaningless, but also harmful for political practices. To separate philosophy from politics means also to separate philosophy from morality, and this is the reason why some of Strauss’s critics label him a relativist. There is to be sure that insistence on the essence of philosophy to go beyond good and evil is one of Strauss’s esoteric teachings. For most of the time, he would let this position be concealed by his vehement attack upon relativism. But this does not mean that Strauss is an amoralist, or that he proposes that the philosopher should be an amoralist. As he once remarks, [that] the philosophic life, especially as Plato and Aristotle understood it, is not possible without self-control and a few other virtues almost goes without saying. If a man is habitually drunk, and so on, how can he think? But the question is, if these virtues are understood only as subservient to philosophy and for its sake, then that is no longer a moral understanding of the virtues. (Strauss and Klein 1997, 465) Strauss seems to think that philosophers are those who have gone beyond, or above morality. This understanding is in accordance with his argument on a liberal education. According to him, the intermediate products of this education are gentlemen, who are men naturally endowed with a high level of morality, and among whom the final products, the philosophers, will be forged. It is all the same natural, that the latter should be more virtuous and more magnanimous than the former in the common sense. This being the case, than philosopher’s concern with the moral world becomes that of the gods in heaven. If he finds that the moral condition of some society is in accordance with the concrete circumstance of its time and place, then he may approve of it, but does not need it; and if he finds the moral condition of another society is not in accordance with its time and place, he may disapprove of it, but would not change it by his own action, or he will betray his

Strauss and ancient Chinese wisdom  121 philosophical position. As a result, philosophers will inevitably become individuals who are suspected by, and live on the margin of, a body politic, neither needing society nor needed by society substantively. If a philosopher serves his city, he does that “not, as he seeks the truth, from natural inclination, from eros, but under compulsion” (Strauss 1987, 59). Philosophy would thus become hollow learning. If all real existences except philosophy are relative, then the philosophical inquiry into problems about them and the problem about the Whole would rarely make any sense. It is true that Strauss leaves places for philosophers to exert some social and political influence, because it is of the essence of political life to be guided by a mixture of political knowledge and political opinion. Here, all political life is accompanied by more or less coherent and more or less strenuous efforts to replace political opinion by political knowledge. (Strauss 1989b, 9) Thus, a philosopher “will try to help his fellow man by mitigating, as far as in him lies, the evils which are inseparable from the human condition.… In particular, he will give advice to his city or to other rulers” (Strauss 1968a, 214). However, it is not intrinsically necessary for him to do so. Even if Socrates believes that his most important task is to awaken his fellow citizens, and to lead them to a good life (Strauss 1987, 33), his execution would make each philosopher in later generations be as cautious as possible in dealing with the city. The strategy to separate philosophy from politics has made some of Strauss’s conclusions in political philosophy self-contradictory, such as the relation between aristocracy and democracy. According to Strauss, “since the principle of democracy is freedom, all human types can develop freely in a democracy, and hence in particular the best human type,” that is, the philosophers (Strauss 1989b, 35), then “democracy is the only regime other than the best in which the philosopher can lead his peculiar way of life without being disturbed.” Then why democracy is not assigned “the highest place among the inferior regimes” by Socrates? The reason is said to be that being a just man, he thought of the well-being not merely of the philosophers but of the nonphilosophers as well, and he held that democracy is not designed for inducing the nonphilosophers to attempt to become as good as they possibly can, for the end of democracy is not virtue but freedom, i.e., the freedom to live either nobly or basely according to one’s liking. (Strauss 1987, 63) That is to say, the philosopher would prefer democracy for the consideration of philosophizing, but would prefer aristocracy for the interests of non-philosophers or the mass (Strauss 1989b, 35). But here there arises a strange ­conclusion:

122  Shiqi Tang because “democracy is not designed for inducing the nonphilosophers to attempt to become as good as they possibly can,” then for the potential philosopher the best choice is to inhabit an aristocracy and to be educated into a gentleman; then once he has incubated into a philosopher, he would emigrate to a democracy, just like Strauss himself. The marginal position of philosophy in Strauss’s theory can be explained by the fact that he still understands philosophy within the framework of traditional Western metaphysics, that is, philosophy is inquiry into the essence of things, into the “what is,” and “to be in the highest sense means to be always” (Strauss 1989a, 37). Thus, the exclusive sphere of philosophical inquiry can only be the unchangeable “nature” of beings, or eidos. It is well known that Strauss has made a great concession on this matter, as he remarks that “Socrates, then, viewed man in the light of the mysterious character of the whole. He held therefore that we are more familiar with the situation of man as man than with the ultimate causes of that situation” (Strauss 1989b, 38). The implication of this understanding is that the virtue of philosophy should also be moderation rather than simple madness: Socrates … refused to separate from one another wisdom and moderation (sophrosyne). Knowledge of the noble and the good things and doing (making use of) them are inseparable; a man who knows them and does them is wise and moderate. (Strauss 1998, 78–79) Even so, the problem about eidos or eidos itself is still the problem of essence. Using Heidegger’s term, it is still an inquiry into Seiend, and not Sein itself (cf. Heidegger 1967, 2–8). As a result, it is hard for the ever-changing and multi-faceted political reality to come into the focus of the Straussian philosopher, who, having gone beyond the secular life and climbed up to the highest stage on the ladder of souls, would not develop any real interest in all the phenomena in the world of opinions. On the other hand, it is improbable that he would get any aspirations or inspirations from the real conflicts and contradictions in politics,8 because “it is only when the Here and Now ceases to be the center of reference that a philosophic or scientific approach to politics can emerge” (Strauss 1989b, 11). It seems that while the separation of philosophy and politics has succeeded in saving them from the erosion of relativism, it has also weakened the vitality of both. Different from the tradition of Western metaphysics, ancient Chinese wisdom knows nothing of the distinction between essence and phenomenon, truth and opinion. People do not use different concepts, logics, and perspectives to understand political and transpolitical phenomenon, rather, they would know the entire universe, including human behavior, as a continuous spectrum, perceive and ponder it in a natural way which requires the observer to make himself a part, and thus mingle into the object. The Chinese sages are similar to Strauss in their insistence that virtue in politics is moderation and prudence, but part with

Strauss and ancient Chinese wisdom   123 him in that this virtue is also highlighted in all walks of human life. Confucius remarks: “Supreme indeed is the Mean as a moral virtue” (Confucius 1979, 6.29). The Constant Mean, or Golden Mean, or Middle Way is expressed in ­Chinese as “Zhong-Yong.” Literally, Zhong means the middle, and Yong means consistency, however, “Zhong-Yong” has much more comprehensive implications than that in ancient Chinese thinking. When the passions of joy, anger, grief and delight are not manifested, they are said to be Zhong (in the due medium). When they are manifested, and all in proper order, they are said to be He (Harmony). Zhong, or Middle, is the great foundation of all things, and Harmony is the all pervading principle of the universe. Extend Zhong and He (Middle and Harmony) to the utmost and heaven and earth will be at rest and all things will be produced, and nourished according to their nature. (Confucius, Mencius 1970, 32) Like Strauss, the Chinese sages perceive that thinking must be fearless and without any restriction, but at the same time, it must be able to steer itself. “The superior man honors virtue and studies in order to carry it to the utmost extent, and to exhaust its subtle and minute parts. He rises to the highest elevation and splendor, yet walks in the due medium” (Confucius, Mencius 1970, 54–55). An elementary feature of ancient Chinese wisdom is that it understands the truth as a function of time. “The superior man keeping the due medium, accords with time and circumstances. The mean man in losing the due medium, acts the part of a low man who is void of caution” (Confucius, Mencius 1970, 33). Confucius is the only person in ancient China who is honored as a Saint, and Mencius (a sub-saint) explains that this is because Confucius knows the time and makes due judgment (Mencius 1970, 150). From a particular understanding of time, the ancient Chinese sages rarely ask about the essence of things or bring forward the problem of “what is.…”9 Compared with Western philosophy which aspires to determine both the constant essence and constant rule (law) of things, ancient Chinese thinking only understands the rule of things to be unchangeable, but the unchangeability of the rule manifests itself in the endless change of all things. The origin of ancient Chinese thinking is The Book of Change (Yi), which declares that Yi has three meanings: Changeability, Constancy, and Simplicity. Thus, it is natural that “one can get to hear about the Master’s accomplishments, but one cannot get to hear his views on human nature and the Way of Heaven” (Confucius 1979, 5.13), because the Master rather tends to make concrete judgments according to the concrete time, place, and circumstance. Then should we conclude from this that traditional Chinese thinking makes a different version of relativism? The answer should be no. There are perhaps three elements which distinguish traditional Chinese wisdom from relativism as Strauss understands it.

124  Shiqi Tang First, as just mentioned, the ancient Chinese sages believe that all things in the universe are dominated by some unchangeable laws, which are most exemplarily included in the Book of Change (Yi Jing). Confucius writes in his “Narration of Yi” with concise and beautiful words: Heaven being venerable and earth base, Jian, “The Key,” and Chuan, “The Flow,” z are settled. The base and high already being arrayed, the noble and mean are established. Motion and rest having constancy, the hard and soft are divided. The directions being gathered according to category, and beings being [divided] according to groups, [auspiciousness and in-auspiciousness come to life. In the heavens completing images] and on earth completing forms, [changes] and transformations become apparent. (Confucius 1996, 189) This paragraph explores the relation between change and stability with extreme profundity: the only unchangeable law is that all things change with time. Second, while ancient Chinese sages never bother themselves to ponder over the essence of things, they tend to describe the unfolding or “disclosing” of a thing in given circumstances, and encourage people to acquire their own understanding of it. People cannot exhaust all concrete circumstances, thus Confucius asks his disciples to know the three corners of a square through one corner.10 This way of learning, while it ensures a larger space for one to develop his own morality and intelligence creatively, provides some standards for his thought and action at the same time. Confucius maintains that “Even when walking in the company of two other men, I am bound to be able to learn from them. The good points of the one I copy; the bad points of the other I correct in myself” (­Confucius 1979, 7.22). The gentleman seeks neither a full belly nor a comfortable home. He is quick in action but cautious in speech. He goes to men possessed of the Way to have himself put right. Such a man can be described as eager to learn. (Confucius 1979, 1.14) This method of acquiring knowledge is similar to the process of judicial rulings in a common law system, in which the lawyers develop and supplement the whole body of laws individually through their application and explanation of former precedents, and let their “legislation” be judged by all the people in an open and endless discussion and communication. Law is thus produced collectively, while everyone contributed to it. Ancient Chinese wisdom attaches great importance to the effect of examples in education, because it allows common sense a comparatively positive cognizant function, or simply relies on common sense. As Strauss points out:

Strauss and ancient Chinese wisdom  125 Things which every ten-year-old child of normal intelligence knows are regarded as being not in need of scientific proof in order to become acceptable as facts. And this scientific proof, which is not only not necessary, is not even possible.… The preoccupation with scientific proof of things which everyone knows well enough, and better, without scientific proof, leads to the neglect of that thinking, or that reflection, which must precede all scientific studies if these studies are to be relevant. (Strauss 1989b, 20) In this sense, the ancient Chinese way of thinking and learning is pre-scientific, but this character makes it possible to see things more originally and more vividly. Third, the ancient Chinese sages insist on a fairly strict moral standard, even if they seldom labor themselves for a clear definition of moral things. Zeng Zi, one of Confucius’s outstanding disciples, declares that Every day I examine myself on three counts. In what I have undertaken on another’s behalf, have I failed to do my best? In my dealings with my friends have I failed to be trustworthy in what I say? Have I failed to practice repeatedly what has been passed on to me? (Confucius 1979, 1.4) According to ancient Chinese thinking, progress in moral virtue is not a march toward some abstract destination, rather an endless improvement of personality through two steps of distinction. The first step is to distinguish human beings from animals. Chinese sages recognize that human beings and animals share some common features, but highlight the possibility of the former to transcend the latter. One becomes humane just because one can do something which animals cannot. Conversely, if one behaves like the animals, he will forfeit his humanity and descend to the level of beasts. In the works of Mencius, “beast” is the word most frequently used to awaken his readers to remember their humanity, or encourage them to try to transcend animals. According to him, “This is the way of the common people: once they have a full belly and warm clothes on their back they degenerate to the level of animals if they are allowed to lead idle lives, without education and discipline” (Mencius 1970, 102). On the basis of the first step, the next step distinguishes the “gentleman” from the “vulgar person (small man).” Chinese sages recognize once again that all human beings share some common wants and desires: “wealth and high station are what men desire … poverty and low station are what men dislike” (Confucius 1979, 4.5). But at the same time they encourage people to transcend these wants and desires, and believe that those who succeed in doing so become “gentlemen.” Again according to Mencius: “So light is the difference between man and the brutes. The common man loses this distinguishing feature, while the gentleman retains it” (Mencius 1970, 131). Confucius lists the different characters of the gentleman and vulgar person as follows: “While the gentleman

126   Shiqi Tang cherishes benign rule, the small man cherishes his native land. While the gentleman cherishes a respect for the law, the small man cherishes generous treatment” (Confucius 1979, 4.11). “The gentleman helps others to effect what is good; he does not help them to effect what is bad. The small man does the opposite” (Confucius 1979, 12.16). “The gentleman agrees with others without being an echo. The small man echoes without being in agreement” (Confucius 1979, 13.23). One can say that Chinese sages surely have not given a precise definition of what humanity is, but they clearly know what inhuman means. “The way of a gentleman” in ancient Chinese tradition means a moral pursuit for perfection of personality until one totally gets rid of all the secular restrictions and ascends to the status of a saint. As for the standard of a saint, it is the result of man’s self-definition, an “Entwurf” (projection) of man’s Being into the future in the Heideggerian term, the consummation of humanity in both morality and intelligence. Additionally, ancient Chinese wisdom does not encourage a “gentleman” to retreat from the world; he “agrees with others without being an echo.” The perfect wisdom is a perfect unification of wisdom and morality. As Strauss points out: A wisdom that is ineffective is not wisdom just as a moderation that does not flow from wisdom, is not moderation. From here there is only one step, if not a small one, to saying that justice and every other virtue is wisdom, which could seem to mean that justice, etc., and wisdom are not only inseparable but identical. (Strauss 1998, 79)

Conclusion Since modern times, people in as well as outside China tend to treat Chinese and Western traditional thought as two totally different systems with different concepts, logics, and frameworks. Strauss, through his reconstruction of classical Western rationalism, has unintentionally pushed the Western philosophical tradition into a direction quite close to that of traditional Chinese wisdom on rational grounds. In this reconstruction, classical Western rationalism has been prepared for a creative encounter, even if not yet actuated, with ancient Chinese thinking. This chapter has demonstrated that classical Western rationalism in Strauss’s perspective shares some important features with ancient Chinese thinking: the perception of the difference of human souls and its political relevance, the proposal of a multi-layered, multi-faceted education, and the emphasis on the significance of moderation and prudence in politics (and philosophy), and so on. It can be said that in these aspects, Strauss has gone beyond Heidegger.11 His efforts will contribute positively to a further mutual understanding and re-­ evaluation of these two great traditions on a more original level, and a more effective communication between them for their own development. The fundamental principle of ancient Chinese wisdom could be summa­ rized as “everything is changeable.” The problem of identity is not the highest

Strauss and ancient Chinese wisdom  127 c­ oncern for Chinese thinking. “Generating while conflicting, opposite sides complementing one another” is regarded as a universal law governing the movement of all things. As Lao Zi dictates: Thus Something and Nothing produce each other; the difficult and the easy complement each other; the long and the short offset each other; the high and the low incline towards each other; note and sound harmonize with each other; before and after follow each other. (Lao Tzu 1963, 6) From this viewpoint, “to be” would not mean “to be always,” but rather means “to become,” an open future is thus perceived. Strauss has narrated Heidegger’s critique of Western rationalism with a tone of disapproval: Rationalism itself rests on nonrational, unevident assumptions; in spite of its seemingly overwhelming power, rationalism is hollow: rationalism itself rests on something which it cannot master. A more adequate understanding of being is intimated by the assertion that to be means to be elusive or to be a mystery. This is the Eastern understanding of Being. (Strauss 1989a, 43) A comparison of this narration with his expounding of Socratic wisdom would reveal something very interesting: Socrates was so far from being committed to a specific cosmology that his knowledge was knowledge of ignorance. Knowledge of ignorance is not ignorance. It is knowledge of the elusive character of the truth. Socrates, then, viewed man in the light of the mysterious character of the whole. (Strauss 1989b, 37–38) Two words appear in these two paragraphs: elusive and mystery (mysterious). We had perhaps better not take this as simply coincidence (supposing that Strauss writes as he reads (cf. Strauss 1997a, 182)). It is at the point where Western rationalism reaches out of itself.

Notes   1 Heidegger once suggested that a deep dialogue between the East and the West is a prerequisite in order to overcome the crisis of Western rationalism. Strauss, however, neglects this necessity, maintaining that the Bible itself was originated in the Middle East, thus if one understands the Bible as Eastern, one would find a common ground in the depth of Western civilization for further discussion. It seems that Strauss has confirmed as well as refuted his above assertion (cf. Strauss 1989a, 43). Additionally, Strauss does regret once that “[I]t is merely an unfortunate necessity which prevents us from listening to the great minds of India and of China: we do not understand their languages, and we cannot learn all languages” (Strauss 1968b, 7).

128  Shiqi Tang  2  Yao and Shun are the earliest two kings and believed to be the moral apotheosis in ancient China.   3  Plato himself points out that you must understand the nature of the soul, along the same lines; you must determine which kind of speech is appropriate to each kind of soul, prepare and arrange your speech accordingly, and offer a complex and elaborate speech to a complex soul and a simple speech to a simple one. Then, and only then, will you be able to use speech artfully, to the extent that its nature allows it to be used that way, either in order to teach or in order to persuade. This is the whole point of the argument we have been making. (Plato 1997, 554)  4  Spring and Autumn Annals is the name of a chronicle edited by Confucius which symbolizes the art of esoteric writing.  5  “A man has no way of becoming a gentleman unless he understands Destiny; he has no way of taking his stand unless he understands the rites; he has no way of judging men unless he understands words.”   6  Strauss also maintains that philosophy “is the highest form of the mating of courage and moderation” (Strauss 1989b, 39).  7 That skill—the art, the prudence, the practical wisdom, the specific understanding possessed by the excellent statesman or politician—and not “a body of true propositions” concerning political matters which is transmitted by teachers to pupils, is what was originally meant by “political science.” (Strauss 1989a, 52)   8 Certainly, this would not be applied to Strauss, because he regards himself as a scholar rather than a philosopher.  9  This makes most scholars, even in China, think that there is no link-verb like the English “be” in the Chinese language. This is not true, because there do exist verbs like the English “be” in Chinese, for example “wei.” In The Analects, we find the following sentence: “To return to the observance of the rites through overcoming the self-constitutes benevolence” (Confucius 1979, 12.1, here “constitutes” means exactly “is”). But in other cases, Confucius likes to make some description of what a beneficent person would do under concrete situations. So following the above sentence, Confucius continues that “the practice of benevolence depends on oneself alone, and not on others.” 10  “When I have pointed out one corner of a square to anyone and he does not come back with the other three, I will not point it out to him a second time” (Confucius 1979, 7.8). 11  Strauss summarizes Heidegger’s appeal for a meeting of Eastern and Western philosophy: There is needed a meeting of the West and of the East. The West has to make its own contribution to the overcoming of technology. The West has first to recover within itself that which would make possible a meeting of West and East: its own deepest roots, which antedate its rationalism, which in a way antedate the separation of West and East. No genuine meeting of West and East is possible on the level of present-day thought.… The meeting of West and East can only be a meeting of the deepest roots of both. (Strauss 1989a, 43) Strauss has initiated this task in a sense.

Strauss and ancient Chinese wisdom  129

Bibliography Confucius. 1979. The Analects, trans. D. C. Lao. London: Penguin Books Ltd. Confucius. 1996. “Appended statements,” in I Ching—The Classic of Changes, trans. Edward L. Shaughnessy, New York: Ballantine Books. Confucius, Mencius. 1970. The Chinese Classical Work Commonly Called The Four Books, trans. and illustrated with notes by David Collie, Gainesville, FL: Scholars’ Facsimiles & Reprints. Gongyang. Gao. 2015. Gongyang Commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals, trans. Harry Miller, New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Gunnell, John G. 1993. “Strauss before Straussianism: Reason, Revelation, and Nature,” in Leo Strauss: Political Philosopher and Jewish Thinker, edited by Kenneth L. Deutsch and Walter Nicgorski. Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, INC. Heidegger, Martin. 1967. Sein und Zeit. Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag. Meier, Heinrich. 2006. Leo Strauss and the Theologico-Political Problem, trans. Marcus Brainard. New York: Cambridge University Press. Plato. 1997. Phaedrus, Plato Complete Works, edited, with Introduction and Notes by John M. Cooper, Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, Inc. Lao Tzu. 1963. Tao Te Ching, trans. with Introduction by D. C. Lau. London: Penguin. The Li Ki. 1885. The Sacred Books of China, Vol. III. trans. James Legge, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Mencius. 1970. Mencius, trans. with Introduction by D. C. Lau. London: Penguin Books. Orr, Susan. 1996. “Strauss, Reason, and Revelation: Unraveling the Essential Question,” in Leo Strauss and Judaism: Jerusalem and Athens Critically Revisited, edited by David Novak. Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc. Strauss, Leo. 1939. “The Spirit of Sparta or the Taste of Xenophon,” Social Research, 6:4. Strauss, Leo. 1953. Natural Right and History. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1958. Thoughts on Machiavelli. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1963. The Political Philosophy of Hobbes: Its Basis and Its Genesis, trans. Elsa M. Sinclair. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1968a. On Tyranny. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Strauss, Leo. 1968b. Liberalism Ancient and Modern. New York: Basic Books, Inc., Publishers. Strauss, Leo. 1973. What is Political Philosophy? And Other Essays. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. Strauss, Leo. 1978. The City and Man, Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1980. Persecution and the Art of Writing. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1983a. “Letter to Karl Lowith, 10 January 1946,” in “Correspondence Concerning Modernity,” Independent Journal of Philosophy 4, 105‒119. Strauss, Leo. 1983b. Studies in Platonic Political Philosophy. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1987. “Plato,” in History of Political Philosophy (3rd ed.), Leo Strauss and Joseph Cropsey. Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1989a. The Rebirth of Classical Political Rationalism: An Introduction to the Thought of Leo Strauss. Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1989b. “On Classical Political Philosophy,” in An Introduction to Political Philosophy: Ten Essays by Leo Strauss, edited by Hilail Gildin. Detroit: Wayne State University Press.

130   Shiqi Tang Strauss, Leo. 1997a. Jewish Philosophy and the Crisis of Modernity, edited and introduced by Kenneth Hart Green. Albany: State University of New York Press. Strauss, Leo. 1997b. Spinoza’s Critique of Religion. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1998. Xenophon’s Socrates. South Bend, IN: St. Augustine’s Press. Strauss, Leo. 2001. On Plato’s Symposium. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo and Klein, Jacob. 1997. “A Giving of Account,” in Jewish Philosophy and the Crisis of Modernity, ed. and introduced by Kenneth Hart Green. Albany: State University of New York Press.

Part IV

Leo Strauss and Northeast Asia

8 Leo Strauss, China, and political utopianism Jianhong Chen

Strauss in China As a political philosopher, Leo Strauss has been understood as the spiritual founder of American neoconservatism as is popularly portrayed as a well-known historian of political philosophy. Distinguished from G. H. Sabine as well as from Eric Voegelin, Strauss is considered as a political philosopher siding with the ancients over the moderns, and a talented commentator on the great books of the West, ancient and modern. In the past ten years or so, Strauss and his thought have attracted considerable attention among Chinese scholars. Most of Strauss’s major works and many publications on Strauss in English, German, and other European languages have been translated into Chinese in recent years. Doctoral dissertations on Leo Strauss have been gradually accumulating year by year. As early as in 1993, a Chinese translation of History of Political Philosophy co-edited by Strauss and Cropsey was already available to Chinese readers. Yet, the enthusiasm of Chinese scholars for Strauss, in my understanding, starts from the year of 2001. In that year, Dr. Liu Xiaofeng, the then academic director of the Institute of Sino-Christian Studies, published a long essay, introducing Leo Strauss’s critique of relativism, his return to classical political philosophy, and his reflection on theological themes to a Chinese audience for the first time (Liu 2001, 13–60). This long essay was followed by the Chinese translation of four essays by Strauss as well as a paper on Strauss by John G. Gunnel.1 Over the years, Dr. Liu has been committing himself to translating Western classical texts into Chinese, commentating on Chinese texts, and searching for what is good for China. It would not be an exaggeration that, thanks to Dr. Liu’s efforts, Strauss has become known to Chinese readers and read and studied among scholars in China. Prof. Gan Yang is the other prominent figure introducing Leo Strauss to Chinese readers. Prof. Gan wrote a lengthy essay entitled “Leo Strauss as a Political Philosopher,” which serves as an introduction to the Chinese translation of Strauss’s Natural Right and History. In this essay, Prof. Gan discusses Strauss’s critique of modernity, controversies over Strauss and Straussians in the U.S., and Strauss’s revival of classical political philosophy (Strauss 2003, 1–82).

134   Jianhong Chen Generally speaking, Prof. Gan stresses Strauss’s bent on the common understanding of politics, as distinguished from Prof. Liu, who pays more attention to the philosophical and theological aspects of Strauss. One may wonder why Chinese intellectuals have become so interested in Strauss? According to Prof. Mark Lilla, the enthusiasm of young Chinese scholars for Strauss as well as for Carl Schmitt portrays “China’s strange taste in Western philosophers” (Lilla 2010, 14–16). Strauss was educated in Germany, established himself as a fine scholar in England, and founded a school of political philosophy in the USA. Therefore, he grew up a Westerner and the problem with which he came to grips is the “crisis of the West.” Faced with the crisis of the West, as Prof. Lilla accurately points out, Strauss set out to recover and reformulate the original questions at the heart of the Western political tradition, which he did by leading his students and readers on a methodical march back in time, from Nietzsche to Hobbes, then to medieval Jewish and Islamic political philosophy (he avoided Christianity), and finally to Plato, Xenophon, Aristophanes, and Thucydides. (Ibid., 15) What does Leo Strauss have to do with China? This question may be answered in different ways. What I can say here is a preliminary and very general comment on why Strauss as a Western political philosopher may be relevant to China. Having experienced defeat by the West, China has been searching for the right way of recovering the glory of China as a great nation. Over a century, most of the prominent minds in the history of modern China have been trying to learn from the West as much as possible. Even the success of Marxism in China was the result of learning from the West, though Marxist China was politically regarded as belonging to the East. Chinese people are eager to learn, not to mention good at learning. In learning from the West, China has been trying to become even more modern than the West itself. China is now turning to or being compelled to learn from the older sister of Marxism, that is, from liberal democracy embedded in a capitalist economic system. The eagerness to learn from the modern West, namely, the pursuit of the modernisation of China, has already made modernity an integral element of modern China. One may say that modernity has become the element of the West within China, as Jerusalem is considered by Strauss to be the element of the East within the West. It would certainly not be a misfortune for China, in pursuit of modernization, to ruminate on the whence and the whither of modernity, to contemplate whether and in what respect the ideal of a modern society is a deliberate break with or a natural result of its own past with regard to the religious and philosophical element of the West. This cannot be directly learned from the advancement of the West on the surface, but from wisdom contained in the great old books. China has been eager to learn from the advanced West in every way, yet she has not yet been patient enough in learning from the great books of the old West.

Strauss, China, and political utopianism   135

Strauss on China Unlike Alexandre Kojève, Strauss had never been in China. Unlike Carl Schmitt, he never wrote on China or on Chinese thinkers on politics. Nevertheless, Strauss did mention China several times in his writings. So, the question remains as to how Strauss generally understood China, no matter how cursory his mention of China may have been? This question has not yet been duly discussed and analyzed. As far as I know, Strauss briefly refers to China three times in his lectures or writings. I should like to begin with Strauss’s reference to China in Liberalism Ancient and Modern. In his short essay “What Is Liberal Education?” Strauss defines the essence of philosophizing as primarily “listening to the conversation between the greatest philosophers,” or between the greatest minds, and therefore as “studying the greatest books.” Then, Strauss immediately notes, The greatest minds to whom we ought to listen are by no means exclusively the greatest minds of the West. It is merely an unfortunate necessity which prevents us from listening to the greatest minds of India and of China: we do not understand their languages, and we cannot learn all languages. (Strauss 1968, 7) Strauss seems to assert that listening to the greatest minds or studying the greatest books of the East, Indian and Chinese, could possibly help “we,” the Westerners, fully grasp the meaning of philosophizing. Yet, the Indian and Chinese languages, which are not naturally accessible to Western scholars, blur that possibility. Strauss makes a clear distinction between the West and the East, between “we” the Westerners and “they” the Easterners. In order not to be misled by the contemporary opposition between the West and the East, one should keep in mind that in speaking of the East Strauss particularly refers to the greatest minds of the East, from whom contemporary Westerners could learn something. One could add that Strauss actually refers to the greatest minds of ancient times in the East. Strauss does not specify, however, what one can learn from the greatest minds of India and China, or put in more concrete terms what constitutes the difference between the teachings of the greatest minds of ancient China and those of the greatest minds of the West. If there is no real difference, one does not have to listen to the greatest minds of China besides studying the greatest books of the West. We can find an adequate answer to this question in another of Strauss’s references to China. In the mid-1950s, Strauss gave a talk on Heidegger and existentialism in Chicago. In this talk, Strauss explains in a way what one can learn from the greatest minds of China. In analyzing Heidegger’s critical questioning of Western rationalism, Strauss notes: A more adequate understanding of being is intimated by the assertion that to be means to be elusive or to be a mystery. This is the Eastern understanding

136   Jianhong Chen of Being. Hence there is no will to master in the East. We can hope beyond technological world society, we can hope for a genuine world society, only if we became capable of learning from the East, especially from China. But China succumbs to Western rationalism. (Strauss 1989, 43) In this brief passage, Strauss touches on the complicated issues of what is a genuinely good society for human life, which he comes to grips with throughout his life. The world that moves forward according to the will of the West is a “technological world society.” One can still hope for “a genuine world society” which would substitute for technological world society under the condition that “we” the Westerners are “capable of learning from the East, especially from China.” Yet, the real situation is that China has lost confidence in her own idea of civilization and is subject to Western rationalism. Therefore, that condition, that is, learning from China, can hardly be met if China no longer believes in her own way of life. In speaking of China, Strauss thus makes an obvious distinction between Modern China which succumbs to Western rationalism and Ancient China that understands Being as elusive. So, learning from China primarily means learning from ancient China, from the greatest minds of ancient China, from the great books of ancient China. Central to the teaching of the greatest minds of China is the Eastern understanding of Being as a mystery. Because of this understanding, we scarcely find the will to power or the will to master in the East as so strongly elucidated in the West. Strauss seems to suggest that the Eastern understanding of Being as elusive and hence the unwillingness to master constitute the prerequisites for pursuing a genuine world society as distinguished from the technological world society in which we all live. Strauss does not believe, however, the level of contemporary thought can lead to a “genuine meeting of West and East,” which can only be “a meeting of the deepest roots of both.” At present, what one can hope for is to “prepare for that meeting by descending to the deepest root of the West,” where Greek philosophy was already challenged by Biblical theology. This reminds us of one of the major components of the thought of Leo Strauss, that is, the tension between theology and philosophy, or between Jerusalem and Athens. Strauss does not understand the Bible as Western but Eastern in the sense that the Biblical tradition is the Eastern element within Western (ibid., 43–44). Strauss suggests that the time for a genuine meeting of West and East has not yet come, that what the West can do in the current situation as a preparation for that meeting is to be aware of the limitations of Greek rationalism as already seen in the Bible. What the East would do in creating the possibility of the East meeting the West cannot be easily answered in a situation in which China subjects herself to the West. Strauss’s proposal is challenging for his counterparts in China. Perhaps there is still a long way to go in the East to prepare for such a meeting that shall take place in the future. The third time Strauss refers to China occurs in his discussion of the Aristotelian idea of regime. In order to instantiate the idea that “every society is

Strauss, China, and political utopianism   137 c­ haracterized by the fact that it looks up to something … Every human being is what he is by the fact that he looks up to something,” Strauss notes, I have been told that the travelers of old China—a thousand years ago or more—when they came to a foreign country, to barbarians as they probably called them, they asked them first, “How do you greet or bow to your prince or king?” They were wiser than many present-day anthropologists, because their question was only a too special form of the question of what do you look up to. Every society, or civilization as they say today, has its unity if there were not one, and only one, thing which is at the top. This gives a society its character.2 (Strauss 1964, 99–100) According to Strauss’s analysis, what a society looks up to constitutes the end of the regime. The regime is the “preponderant part of a society, the part of society which sets it tone.” For instance, equality is what a democratic society looks up to, and gives the character of democracy (ibid., 100). In ancient China, how subjects greet the prince reflects what an aristocratic society looks up to. One can say that this reference is not so significant in grasping Strauss’s understanding of China as it is in instantiating Strauss’s theory of regime.3

Strauss on the crisis of the West Strauss sees the crisis of the West in the “doubt” or uncertainty of its own purpose of establishing a universal society that is perfectly just and perfectly happy. A similar view is already expressed in the 1941 essay on German nihilism. There, Strauss connects German nihilism with the abhorrence of a universal and affluent universe, be it liberal or communist. On this view, liberals and communists are twin brothers. They march toward the same goal, but they fundamentally disagree about the means to achieve that goal. While the liberal is prudent and patient with regard to the realization of that goal, his impatient brother precipitates that goal into an immediate realization. Abhorring the goal common to the liberal and the communist, some “very intelligent and very decent” Germans, as Strauss calls them, decided to return to the uncorrupted origin, to the Hobbesian state of nature (Strauss 1999, 360). If the communist could be said to have erred in his impatience with regard to the realization of the goal, German nihilists are hopeless in that they flatly rejected the goal of civilization as such and decided to return to dominion and to the virtue of valor. The antagonism between communists and liberals is also conducive, as Strauss points out, to the conviction that “no possibility of a universal society exists in the foreseeable future,” that “political society remains for the foreseeable future what it always has been, particular society, society with frontiers, a closed society, concerned with self-improvement” (Strauss 1964, 42). In this respect, Strauss agrees, though for different reasons, with Schmitt that political society remains a closed society.

138   Jianhong Chen In the midst of the lecture on the crisis of our time, Strauss says that the experience of communism has provided the West “a twofold lesson: a political lesson, a lesson regarding what to expect and what to do in the foreseeable future, and a lesson regarding the principle of politics” (ibid., 46). This conclusion is repeated verbatim in the Introduction to The City and Man (CM, 6). Strauss sees in German nihilism, as represented by Schmitt’s affirmation of the political, a reaction or rejection of the principles of civilization. Moreover, Strauss understands this rejection as an inevitable result of the fact that modern political philosophy lowers moral standards in order to make more probable the realization of a perfect and prosperous state. Modern political philosophy does so by founding human society on the concept of the state of nature, by rejecting the teleological perspective of the ancients in which human society is discussed with a view to what is best in its end. Schmitt’s affirmation of the political and return to the foundation of culture leads Strauss to examine the basis of Hobbes’s political philosophy. Strauss sees in Hobbes’s political teaching a conscious attempt to establish a civilized and rational state that is universal and embraces all human beings (cf. Tuck 2004, 125–138). This ideal is impossible without first lowering the moral standard by which the ancient idea of the virtuous state was erected. The perfection of the soul is replaced by the preservation of the body, and the ideal of a perfect and virtuous society by the consideration of the mere sustenance of existing society. Unlike Schmitt, Strauss does not welcome the forsakenness of human existence. He redirects Schmitt’s critique of liberalism by opposing ancient liberalism or classical political philosophy to modern liberalism or modern political philosophy. Strauss redirects the intention of Schmitt’s critique of liberalism that he encountered in 1932 to a transpolitical perspective. He does not deny the possibility of going beyond the political, beyond the political cave to which human beings are accustomed. Strauss undertakes his own radical critique by laying stress on the necessity of the philosophical quest for the best political order. In the Introduction to The City and Man, after having repeatedly mentioned the return to classical political philosophy, Strauss says that an adequate understanding of “the classical principles” [of politics] would be “the indispensable starting” for an analysis of present-day society, more correctly, for a remedy to the failed principles of modern political philosophy (CM, 10–11). While the modern ideal of a universal society is based on the principle of the preservation of bare life, the ancient ideal of civilization is based on the pursuits of the virtuous life and of the virtuous city. The philosophical quest for the best life and the best city provides a limit to the political. For this very reason, Strauss sees a way out of the crisis of political philosophy by means of “a return to classical political philosophy and, in the first place, to Aristotle’s Politic” (Strauss 1964, 91–103). Before turning to the chapter on Aristotle’s Politics, Strauss discusses in the last few passages of the Introduction to The City and Man only one principle of classical political philosophy. The principle he singles out is that classical political philosophy regards it as primary to understand political things as citizens or

Strauss, China, and political utopianism   139 statesmen understand them. The modern scientific understanding of politics does not start from the perspective of the city, but from natural right of the individual. In the historicist age, man’s natural right is relativized and becomes a historical right, to which science is impervious. This inevitably leads to the distinction between facts and values. This is for Strauss also indicative of the crisis of the West, that is, of the fact that the West is no longer certain of its own purpose of civilization.

Strauss and three understandings of human politics Strauss’s diagnosis of the crisis of the West in general and of modernity in particular would be better grasped if we consider it against the background of three understandings of human politics and their mutual relation as analyzed by Strauss. These three approaches to human politics differ from one another and respectively exemplify for Strauss the contemporary, the modern, and the ancient understanding: Schmittian, Hobbesian, and Platonic. Carl Schmitt is more famous for The Concept of the Political than for all his other works taken together. The aim of the book is to determine the concept of the political. In defining the political, Schmitt takes heed of what is specific to the political, that is, the distinction between friend and enemy, a distinction that cannot be subservient to any other distinction of human existence. The concept of the political defined in terms of the friend/enemy distinction is above all polemical against the contemporary philosophy of culture, according to which culture is to be divided into various independent and autonomous domains such as morality, aesthetics, and economics. Schmitt does not intend to establish an autonomous domain of the political along with other domains, but to argue that the political entity is authoritative, sovereign, and encompassing. Moreover, Schmitt understands the political as the inescapable fate of human beings, for he regards the political as rooted in human nature, which is believed to be “evil” or dangerous. Since the political reflects human nature, it does not and will not disappear from human life. Hence the world remains pluralistic rather than universal. In this perspective, Schmitt’s concept of the political is intended to combat the liberal ideal of a universal or world state. Schmitt believes that the humanitarian attempt to construct a universal state inevitably leads to extreme inhumanity (CP, 26, 38ff, 53ff, 58–61). Schmitt’s affirmation of the political is the conscious return to the Hobbesian state of nature while discarding the ideal of the civilized state presupposed in Hobbes’s political theory. Strauss identifies such a return to the incorrupt origin, to the Hobbesian state of nature, to the foundation of culture, as a return to nothingness. Strauss thus sees in Schmitt’s concept of the political a new kind of fortitude, a courageous acceptance of the forsakenness of human existence, a welcoming of the terrible truth. This new kind of fortitude or toughness refuses to go beyond the realm of the political, beyond the state of nature. Schmitt’s return to the Hobbesian state of nature leads Strauss to undertake an investigation into the basis of Hobbes’s political philosophy. Strauss understands

140  Jianhong Chen Hobbes’s political philosophy, as he states at the beginning of the 1936 book on Hobbes, as “the first peculiarly modern attempt to give a coherent and exhaustive answer to the question of man’s right life, which is at the same time the question of the right order of society” (PPH, 1, 5). Hobbes initiates a project that fundamentally changes the understanding of man’s right life and the right order of society. Along with other thinkers of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, Hobbes proposes his political theory with a view to establishing a new society in which complete freedom can be attained. To put it more plainly, the modern project is a bold attempt to establish a universal state based on the assumption of the subjective claim of natural right (Strauss 1952, 33–34). Strauss sees in Hobbes’s political teaching a conscious attempt to establish a civilized and rational state that is universal and embraces all human beings. This new vision of the right life and the right order of society lowers the moral standard in order to make the improbable ideal realizable. In the modern project, nature is the presupposed element of culture. It is an element to be fought with in order to establish the civilized state. In Schmitt’s concept of the political, the state of nature is no longer to be fought with, but the destined site in which human existence must reside. Schmitt’s effort can also be said to take an opposite direction from the modern project of civilization. But it merely returns to the foundation of modern civilization. Strauss’s own critique of liberalism is, however, to be undertaken on the basis of the mindfulness of the contrast between the ancient and the modern understanding of men’s right life and the right order of society. Whereas Schmitt returns to the foundation of liberalism, Strauss puts that foundation into question, and opposes to it the ancient idea of liberalism. Strauss seeks a solution to the modern impasse by returning to classical political philosophy, or to the classical version of liberalism as he understands it. This solution rejects both Schmitt’s anti-liberal and Hobbes’s liberal approaches to human politics. Nevertheless, Strauss recognizes as true Schmitt’s and Hobbes’s observation that “we are … yet in the Dark.”4 Yet this recognition does not relinquish the principal of civilization. Strauss’s solution is to re-conceal or reesotericize the publicized terrible truth that men still hopelessly remain in the dark as was the case with Hobbes, and remain forever in the dark as was the case with Schmitt. In each case, men remain in ceaseless strife and struggle. That terrible truth is to be re-concealed from the majority of human beings by means of an exoteric and earnest appeal to what is by nature right. An appeal to natural right means that there exists an absolute right as the standard of existing rights that are laid down by mighty powers. Strauss is well aware of the fact that the perfect State based on the classical understanding of natural right exists only in speech. Nevertheless, he does not think it is wise to relinquish the idea of natural right and the perfect city in speech. In Strauss’s analysis, the modern project broke with the classical tradition and took on “an entirely new character” by its “extreme step of questioning the supremacy of contemplation,” or, by the fact that the moderns no longer understand philosophy “as essentially contemplative and proud, but as active and charitable” (LAM, 201; CM, 3).

Strauss, China, and political utopianism  141 Strauss sees Schmitt’s critique of liberalism as a deepened step of the crisis of liberalism. He parts company with Schmitt as well as with Hobbes by turning to determine, however tentatively, “the limits set to political life, to all political action and all political planning” (RCPR, 60; Strauss 1959, 91). He finds the limits set to political life in the quest for the best city of the Platonic political philosophers, in the quest for the best political order. In such an inquiry into the best political order, Strauss says, “the transpolitical life, the suprapolitical life, the life of the mind in contradistinction to the political life, comes to sight only as a limit of the political” (Strauss 1972b, 242).

Concepts of right and human order In correspondence with the three understandings of human politics, there are different visions of human order. According to Schmitt, “life struggles not with death, spirit not with spiritlessness; spirit struggles with spirit, life with life, and out of the power of an integral understanding of this arises the order of human things” (AND, 142). Schmitt clearly recognizes conflicts between life and life as the inescapable destiny of human existence. When new powers supersede existing powers, conflict often occurs. The earth will then be re-appropriated, re-distributed, and reproduced. The order of human things will change accordingly. “Relentlessly,” Schmitt says, “the new nomos installs itself upon the ruins of the old” (LS, 59). Nonetheless, the confrontation between the new and the old powers does not necessarily cause only death and destruction, but will “generate just standards and criteria and forge new dimensions loaded with meaning” (LS, 59; see also NE, 355). For Schmitt, the order of human things is born out of the real struggle of spirit with spirit, life with life. Central to this understanding of human order is the understanding of right as might. In this understanding, what is right is historically and politically conditioned. Apart from this understanding of right as historically conditioned, there are two other concepts of right, which are crucial to understanding Strauss’s return to the ancients. These two concepts of right correspond to the two other understandings of human order. As early as 1932, Strauss says in his critique of Schmitt that a radical examination of Schmitt’s effort leads one to contemplate the “two completely opposed answers to the question of what is right” (NCP, 106), that is, the two opposing understandings of natural right: the classical and the modern understanding of natural right. In his study of Thomas Hobbes, Strauss elucidates the difference between the classical understanding and the modern understanding of natural right. While the classical natural right is described as “the traditional natural right of duty,” the modern one is determined as “the modern natural right of claim” (PL, 78). In the former understanding, natural right is “a standard, a norm, a law, an obligation,” while in the latter it is “a right, a claim” (PPH, 155). In this perspective, the classical understanding is “the maximum claim,” and the modern understanding is “the minimum claim,” which is only to “defend life and limb”

142  Jianhong Chen (PPH, 155n2). This contrast, Strauss says, can help us “best recognize the antithesis between Hobbes on the one hand, and the whole tradition founded by Plato and Aristotle on the other.” The two understandings of natural right lead to two ideas of the perfect state. Strauss asserts that “Classical philosophy created the idea of the universal state. Modern philosophy, which is the secularized form of Christianity, created the idea of the universal and homogeneous state” (OT, 207). Strauss regards polis, or the classical idea of the state, as “a stable standard” by which any actual order is to be judged (OT, 210). He maintains that polis in the strict sense should not be understood as the Greek city-state but the city-state as such (Strauss 1972a, 5). This corresponds to his explanation of the classical claim of natural right as the natural standard in contradistinction to the modern claim of natural right as the natural condition of the state. It is also worth noting that in his exchange with Kojève, Strauss does not show any hesitation in identifying Kojève’s Marxist-Hegelian vision of the universal and homogeneous state as the intended ideal of modern philosophy, of modern liberalism. This suggests that from the very beginning Strauss does not understand the sovereign state, but rather the universal and homogeneous state as the ultimate aim of the founders of modern political philosophy. It is ultimately in this sense that Strauss identifies Hobbes, in 1932, as the founder of liberalism and the author of modern civilization. Strauss appeals to the classical idea of a universal state as an everlasting standard. This appeal is based on the conviction that the classical discourse on the best city as such serves for helping men out of the miserable and illiberal condition. In this sense, Strauss regards the classical discourse on the best city as the political philosophy of the classics. According to Strauss, the classics do not overlook or underestimate the terror of political reality. They attempt to lead men toward the civilized life by educating the few gifted gentlemen of their society. Strauss charges the founders of modern civilization with lowering the moral standards of the universal state, that is, transforming the idea of the universal state as the eternal standard into the idea of the universal and homogeneous state. The insurmountable gap presupposed in the former idea between the ideal state and the real state becomes blurred and obliterated in the latter idea, as exemplified by the Hegelian idea of the state. Strauss distinguishes Hobbes from Aristotle by the fact that whereas Aristotle views the city as such as the unchanged perfect community set up as the testing standard of every individual stage of development, Hobbes proceeds to generate the rational State from the irrational primitive state of nature. For this reason, Strauss aligns Hobbes with Hegel and sees Hobbes’s political philosophy as leading to Hegel’s rational state, or to use Kojève’s words, to the universal and homogeneous state. Therefore, Strauss laments that at the hands of Hobbes as well as Hegel, Political philosophy no longer has the function, as it had in classical antiquity, of reminding political life of the eternally immutable prototype of the

Strauss, China, and political utopianism   143 perfect State, but the peculiarly modern task of delineating for the first time the programme of the essentially future perfect State. (PPH, 106) In his revival of classical political philosophy, Strauss returns from one universal idea to the other universal idea of the state, that is, from the modern idea of the universal and homogeneous state to the classical idea of the best or perfect state constituted in speech as the standard by which all actual states are judged.

Strauss as skeptic? Strauss is famous for his attempt to revive the spirit of classical political philosophy. Yet his return to classical political philosophy can be read in different ways. For instance, scholars such as Shadia Drury declare that Strauss’s claim to return to the ancient idea of the best city is no more than a deceptive design that serves to hide his conception of politics, a conception alleged to be even more radical than Schmitt’s. Strauss’s political philosophy is thus alleged to be exoterically Platonic but esoterically Machiavellian. This view seems to me not a sound view. I should like to take issue with another view of Strauss as a zetetic or skeptic. In his book on Strauss, Professor Steven Smith claims that Strauss’s understanding of philosophy is essentially “zetetic” or “skeptic in the original sense of the term.” Strauss’s Plato as well as Strauss himself is described as “a skeptic, a ‘zetetic’ philosopher, whose thought is characterized by an awareness of the limits, the incompleteness, of human knowledge” (Smith 2006, 89). Professor Smith demonstrates that “the skeptical disposition” constitutes “the core of Strauss’s conception of philosophy,” that Strauss’s preference for natural right is “inseparable from his skepticism about political utopianism and idealism” (ibid., 121–122). Smith’s characterization of Strauss as a skeptic is impressive. As Smith perceives, Strauss is a skeptic to the effect that he sees grave dangers in “visionary expectations” from politics and “unmanly contempt” for it. Smith thus concludes his book by saying that Strauss’s work as a whole “must be considered a reflection on the ‘essential limits’ of politics; his ambition was to provide ‘the broadest and deepest analysis of political idealism ever made’ ” (ibid., 201). From this perspective, Strauss’s skepticism has a dual character. Smith is more successful, however, in contending that Strauss is skeptical of political idealism and utopianism than in addressing the issue that Strauss’s philosophical skepticism also provides the “essential limits” of politics. It is true that Strauss has no illusions about materializing the ancient kallipolis since he is skeptical of the possibility that evil could and should ever be expelled from humanity. Nevertheless, an exclusive emphasis on the negative aspect of Strauss’s attitude to the ancient idea of kallipolis would be an overstating of the matter. For Strauss’s negative idea that ancient kallipolis is “extremely improbable” is inseparable from a positive contention that the ancient idea of the best city as such provides the “essential limits” set to politics.

144  Jianhong Chen Smith adequately points out that for Strauss, platonic ideas illustrate fundamental human problems rather than offer solutions to them. He stresses that Platonic Ideas are, for Strauss, problematic because they are susceptible to political idealism and utopianism. Scant attention is paid to the positive bearing of the ancient idea of kallipolis, that is, that it reflects the problematic nature of politics: the perfect city constituted in speech reminds man of the imperfect nature and essential limits of actual cities. Smith does not give the same weight, as Strauss does, to the positive meaning as to the negative aspect of Platonic Ideas as symbols of the permanent problems. This perhaps is due in part to the fact that Smith somehow understates Strauss’s predilection for ancient natural right when he avers that Strauss sometimes “overstated” it (ibid., 104). In addition, Smith does not distinguish as strongly as Strauss does the ancient version of political idealism from the modern version of utopianism. For Strauss, the ancients constitute the best city in speech as the prototype of the states, as the standard by which actual cities are judged, whereas the moderns attempt to materialize in a way the ancient idea of the perfect State. This attempt would not be possible, as Smith perceives, without first consciously lowering the standards of natural right or substituting a subjective natural right for an objective one. The ancient idea of the perfect city as the eternal standard of cities is replaced by the modern pursuit of a future perfect State, that is, the universal and homogeneous State. For Strauss, these are essential differences between the ancient solution and the modern solution to the permanent human problems, that is, to the incessant conflicts of human ideas and values. When hopes for a universal and homogeneous human society were gradually fading away, the West was no longer so confident in achieving its aim of civilizing the world and hence became uncertain of its own aim as such. This is, as Smith accurately observes, what Strauss calls the crisis of the West (ibid., 186–187). For Strauss, obvious symptoms of the crisis of the West can be seen in Carl Schmitt’s anti-liberal version as well as in Isaiah Berlin’s liberal version of a willing acceptance of the forsakenness of human existence: man is by nature inclined to fight and hence the conflicts of human values and ideas are hopelessly unresolvable. Both versions appear to Strauss to have not only reacted to the modern ideal of civilization, but also given up the idea of civilization as such. Smith correctly perceives that in Strauss’s eyes both German historicism in the past and multiculturalism nowadays degenerate from the modern idea of civilization, or more precisely, from the uncertainty of that idea. The moderns attempt to resolve the perennial human problems by seeking to establish a universal and homogeneous state. In other words, the moderns attempt to overcome the state of nature by pursuing a perfect state that comprises free states which in turn consist of free citizens. For the ancients, the perfect city exists and can exist in speech only, whereas the moderns are no longer satisfied with the inefficiency or reticence of the ancient doctrine. The ancient idea of kallipolis is moderate since the ancients learned lessons from certain sophists who, because of their disregard of the sternness of politics, had undue expectations from speech. It is true to state that the ancient idea of the best city is problematic.

Strauss, China, and political utopianism  145 It is equally true that actual cities and their morals are problematic too from the perspective of the best city. Smith correctly maintains that Strauss does not believe that evil could and should ever disappear from the world. Yet, Smith’s emphasis on this point creates an impression that Strauss subscribes to the view that man is destined to be forsaken and hence has to accept courageously his forsakenness. This cannot be Strauss’s final view of the matter. Nor can it be Smith’s last word on Strauss. Otherwise, Strauss’s return to the classical pursuit of the best city would not be as necessary and urgent as Strauss stresses. Smith describes Strauss as a friend if not the best friend of liberalism and characterizes Strauss’s version of liberalism as a skeptical liberalism or liberalism without illusions. This characterization would be entirely adequate if it did not lead one to lose sight of the equilibrium of Strauss’s skepticism about the power of reason and his skepticism about politics. For Strauss, the ancient idea of the best city sets an essential limit to politics. It is not just a lie, however noble. It also serves to educate the human race to pursue the good, pure and simple, which can hardly be found in reality but in speech. If one does not forget about a simple fact that speech and reason are cognates etymologically, one will perhaps suspect that Smith’s skepticism about reason might be greater than Strauss’s.

Conclusion Strauss returns to classical political philosophy in order to search for a solution to the crisis of the West. Strauss traces the cause of that crisis to the initiation of modernity, and sees its symptom in the West’s descent from modern utopianism to contemporary relativism and positivism. For Strauss, struggle of spirit with spirit, which Schmitt understands as the originary source of the order of the world, is only the condition of the order of human things. It can neither be the aim nor the standard of human order. Contending the impossibility of the modern ideal of a universal and homogeneous state, Strauss cherishes the ancient idea of the universal state constituted in speech. Strauss understands the best city in speech a limit set to modern utopianism as well as a lasting reminder of the imperfection of human orders in reality. In this perspective, Strauss can be seen as a political idealist as distinguished from political realists such as Schmitt, as well as from modern political utopians such as Kojève. In China, political utopianism or the pursuit of the best political order has not been taken seriously for a long time. China has firmly believed that the defeat of China in facing the West can partially be ascribed to the ancient utopianism of the Chinese tradition, which seeks for the best order founded by the sages. Apart from his other major contributions to political philosophy, Strauss’s elucidation of what the Platonic pursuit of the best political order means for the West would help Chinese scholars better understand our own tradition of human politics. If we simply ignore the implied critical tone, Prof. Mark Lilla’s following comment on Strauss in relation to Chinese scholars is perhaps accurate on the matter:

146   Jianhong Chen What makes Strauss additionally appealing to them, apart from the grand tapestry of Western political theory he lays before them, is that he makes this ideal philosophically respectable without reference to Confucius or religion or Chinese history. He provides a bridge between their ancient tradition and our own. (Lilla 2010, 16)

Abbreviations AND Carl Schmitt, “The Age of Neutralizations and Depoliticizations,” Telos. June 20, 1993. CM Leo Strauss, The City and Man. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1978. CP Carl Schmitt, The Concept of the Political. Translated by George Schwab, with a foreword by Tracy B. Strong and Notes by Leo Strauss. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2007. GN Leo Strauss, “German Nihilism,” Interpretation, Vol. 26, 1999. LAM Leo Strauss, Liberalism Ancient and Modern. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1995. LS Carl Schmitt, Land and Sea. Translated and with a foreword by Simona Draghici. Washington, DC: Plutarch Press, 1997. NCP Leo Strauss, “Notes on The Concept of the Political,” in The Concept of the Political, Carl Schmitt. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1996. NE Carl Schmitt, The Nomos of the Earth in the International Law of the Jus Publicum Europaeum. Translated and annotated by G. L. Ulmen. New York: Telos Press, 2003. OT Leo Strauss, On Tyranny. Edited by Victor Gourevitch and Michael S. Roth. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2000. PL Leo Strauss, Philosophy and Law: Contributions to the Understanding of Maimonides and His Predecessors. Translated by Eve Adler. New York: State University of New York Press, 1995. PPH Leo Strauss, The Political Philosophy of Hobbes, translated by Sinclair, Elsa M. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1996. RCPR Leo Strauss, The Rebirth of Classical Political Rationalism. Selected by Thomas L. Pangle. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1989. WIPP Leo Strauss, What is Political Philosophy? And Other Studies. Glencoe, IL: Free Press, 1959.

Notes 1 The four essays by Strauss are: “Jerusalem and Athens: Some Preliminary Reflections,” “The Mutual Influence of Theology and Philosophy,” “How to Begin to Study Medieval Philosophy,” and “Exoteric Teaching.” 2 I have not yet been able to locate the source to which Strauss refers.

Strauss, China, and political utopianism  147 3 For a brief discussion of Strauss’s theory of regime in connection with the foreign policy of the Bush administration, see Fukuyama (2006), especially the first half of chapter 2. 4 Hobbes (1968, ch. 44, para. 2). For a related discussion, see Tuck (2004, 128).

Bibliography Fukuyama, Francis. 2006. America at the Crossroads: Democracy, Power and the NeoConservative Legacy. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Hobbes, Thomas. 1968. Leviathan. C. B. Macpherson (ed.). London: Penguin Books, 628 (ch. 44, para. 2). Lilla, Mark. 2010. “Reading Strauss in Beijing: China’s Strange Taste in Western Philosophers,” The New Republic, 14–16. Liu, Xiaofeng. 2001. “Philosophy, God and Possibility of [the] Good Life: Leo Strauss’s Political Philosophy and Theology,” Logos & Pneuma: Chinese Journal of Theology 14, 13–60. Smith, Steven. 2006. Reading Leo Strauss: Politics, Philosophy, Judaism. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 89. Strauss, Leo. 1952. Persecution and the Art of Writing. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 33–34. Strauss, Leo. 1964. “The Crisis of Political Philosophy,” in The Predicament of Modern Politics, edited by Harold J. Spaeth. Detroit, MI: University of Detroit Press. Strauss, Leo. 1968. Liberalism Ancient and Modern. Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1972a. “Introduction” to History of Political Philosophy, 2nd ed. Leo Strauss and Joseph Cropsey (eds.). Chicago, IL: Rand McNally College Publishing Company, 5. Strauss, Leo. 1972b. “Political Philosophy and the Crisis of Our Time,” in The PostBehavioral Era Perspectives on Political Science, edited by George J. Graham, Jr. and George W. Carey. New York: David McKay Company, 242. Strauss, Leo. 1979. “The Mutual Influence of Theology and Philosophy,” The Independent Journal of Philosophy Vol. III. Strauss, Leo. 1989. “An Introduction to Heideggerian Existentialism,” in The Rebirth of Classical Political Rationalism, edited by Thomas L. Pangle. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 43. Strauss, Leo. 1989. “How to Begin to Study Medieval Philosophy,” in The Rebirth of Classical Political Rationalism, selected by Thomas L. Pangle. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1989. “Exoteric Teaching,” in The Rebirth of Classical Political Rationalism, selected by Thomas L. Pangle. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1997. “Jerusalem and Athens: Some Preliminary Reflections,” in Jewish Philosophy and the Crisis of Modernity: Essays and Lectures in Modern Jewish Thought, edited by Kenneth Hart Green. Albany: State University of New York Press. Strauss, Leo. 2003. Natural Right and History, trans. Peng Gang. Beijing: SDX Joint Publishing, 1–82. Tuck, Richard. 2004. “The Utopianism of Leviathan,” in Leviathan after 350 Years, edited by Tom Sorell and Luc Foisneau. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 125–138.

9 Leo Strauss’s interpretation of the Republic reconsidered Limits of politics in South Korea1 Sungwoo Park

Introduction: Leo Strauss in South Korea here and now During the Presidency of George W. Bush, the name of a political philosopher, Leo Strauss, was often heard in the mass media. It was alleged that his political philosophy was the intellectual background of neoconservatism and its corresponding foreign policies. Strauss was even charged with instigating the Iraq War as the mastermind. As the Bush administration stepped down, media attention on Strauss diminished remarkably and public accusation of him also disappeared. More importantly, the alleged claim regarding Strauss’s association with neoconservative foreign policies was refuted in scholarly fashion (Zuckert 2008; Tarcov 2006). The misunderstanding of Strauss caused by the so-called “Strauss Scandal” now seems cleared up, at least in the Western hemisphere. A somewhat different story about Strauss occurs in South Korea. The once harsh condemnation heaped on Strauss for his alleged association with the Iraq War has now almost disappeared in South Korea, too. However, the public demonization of the political philosopher as well as his political philosophy largely remains intact. That’s in part because in South Korea the public interest in Strauss was initiated by sensational journalism rather than by sincere scholarship concerning his political philosophy.2 The offshoot of this phenomenon is a failure to appreciate the significance of his political philosophy in the South Korean context, needless to say, an unfair judgment on one of the most influential contemporary political philosophers. I argue in this chapter that Strauss’s political philosophy, in particular his anti-utopianism, is highly relevant to South Korean society here and now. I argue that his philosophical insight into the limits of politics is so universal that his diagnosis and warning is still valid for South Korean society. In the past few decades, South Korean democracy has developed so remarkably that it is now acknowledged by scholars of democracy as one of the most successful cases of the third wave democratization (Shin and Park 2008, 39). Viewed from inside, however, democracy itself is one of the sources of social conflict between different social forces offering opposing diagnoses of ­“problems” of Korean democracy. The conservatives often condemn “excessive” democracy for major social conflicts in South Korea. For them, democracy has gone

Strauss, the Republic, and Korean politics  149 too far in South Korea and now should be tamed instead of being encouraged. In contrast, the progressives are still dissatisfied with the current stage of South Korean democracy. They require a higher level of social welfare as well as more substantive economic equality. Severe social cleavage is created by the ways in which people demand different political measures to fulfil democratic ideals based on different versions of democracy. South Korean democracy is now astray, unlike the appearance it gives to the world outside. Another source of social conflict in South Korea is the interpretation of liberalism. Although South Korean liberalism is formally defined in the constitution, its content and extent are the objects of heated debates in the public sphere as well as in the academic field. Moreover, the definition of liberalism in South Korea is often obscured by the extraordinary situation on the Korean peninsula, that is, the confrontation with North Korea, perhaps the last rigid communistauthoritarian regime in the world. Under these circumstances, showing “sufficient” hostility toward the North is a necessary qualification for liberals. The definition of liberalism in South Korea is confined to the ideological position toward the North and to that extent South Korean liberalism is susceptible to political partisanship. For partisans, liberalism is identified by superficial behaviors. For example, whether or not a political party observes the singing of the national anthem at official events, or whether or not a politician declares official criticism of “Chu-che Thought,” the original North Korean idea of a unique amalgam of national autonomy and authoritarianism which justified the tyranny of Kim Il-sung, is often taken as an indispensable indicator of supporting liberalism. Yet these superficial determinations of liberal identification run the risk of blurring essential liberal values. Losing the solid meaning of democracy and fighting over a “genuine” liberalism, South Korean people tend to believe that politics is the only reliable solution to all the current problems of Korea. While South Korean people are tired of constant political corruption, this disappointment does not lead them to political indifference. Instead, people tend to expect more from politics and, in particular, long for morally immaculate politicians. They search for morally perfect politicians even without demanding traditional political virtues such as prudence or political capability. They tend to condone political inexperience or naiveté if no more than a moral standard is fulfilled. This tendency has had a lot of influence on people’s political behaviors in past South Korean presidential elections to the effect that people look for a political rookie, whose image is clean though his political abilities have no chance to be verified.3 In the history of South Korean politics, political rookies have rarely taken power. However, people’s relative disregard of the traditional political virtues is enough to distort the structure of presidential elections and politics in general. In fact, people’s longing for moral politicians reflects a unique phenomenon in South Korean politics in that political idealism is prevalent. Ordinary people and politicians share a common belief that politics is the key to solving most social problems with the expectation of politics as always improving. On the surface the prevalence of political idealism appears to be better than political

150  Sungwoo Park i­ndifference, at least. However, imagine what happens when people realize that the values that political idealism pursues can never be fulfilled. Political nihilism awaits. In fact, it is barely possible to satisfy people with the accomplishments that political idealism promises. This is why South Korean politics has vacillated between political fanaticism and political cynicism. Over the past few decades, political idealism has dominated people’s minds in different forms, no matter whether they are conscious of it or not. Now, one of the key problems in South Korean politics is how to deal with the prevailing political idealism. I think Strauss’s warning about political idealism, although it was argued in a different context, may be applied to the South Korean situation and may function as a remedy for the pathology of political idealism. Strauss’s anti-utopianism and, more generally, his position on the limitations of politics are mostly derived from his commentary on the Republic. In this chapter I will reconsider Strauss’s interpretation of the Republic by situating Strauss’s anti-utopianism in the context of South Korean politics. I will begin by examining Strauss’s extraordinary method of interpreting Plato and his dialogues. It is necessary to clarify his hermeneutical method because Strauss’s anti-utopian interpretation of the Republic is largely derived from his hermeneutical position. Next, I will examine the two main topics that comprise Strauss’s anti-utopian reading of the Republic: the analogy of city and soul, and the problem of philosopher-king. Finally, I will probe how to take advantage of Strauss’s unique reading of the Republic in the South Korean political context.

Strauss’s peculiar method of reading the platonic dialogues and the Republic Strauss is known for developing a unique reading of Plato. One of the most peculiar characteristics of Strauss’s reading of Plato is paying special attention to the literary form Plato chose, that is, the dialogue. Strauss understands that the literary form is not an external ornament, but a deeply schematized medium that is supposed to convey Plato’s covert intention. Thus, Strauss states: “one cannot understand Plato’s teaching as he meant it, if one does not know what the Platonic dialogue is” (CM, 52).4 Reading Plato’s writing as “dialogues” means to read them as dramas, in which readers are not supposed to identify the author’s views with a particular character. Thus, if one wants to get closer to Plato’s intention, he or she must take the dialogue as a whole, paying attention to the dramatic setting (such as time, place and characters) as well as the speeches and actions of the characters. Presumably the dialogic form is less effective than the ordinary philosophical writing of treatises in terms of clarifying the author’s intentions. Why did Plato indeed invent the dialogic form, potentially risking the misreading of his writings? Strauss first notes Plato’s remarks in the Seventh Letter. According to this, his written work merely conveys his “exoteric” teaching while his true beliefs are conveyed through well-placed hints and indications (341d–e).5 Strauss also refers to Phaedrus Socrates to remind that that Socrates once defends the superiority of oral

Strauss, the Republic, and Korean politics  151 communication over written form (275d–e). Platonic writing is in a certain sense a degenerate form of Socratic conversation (CM, 54) because the dialogue stands halfway between Socratic oral communication and the systematic treatises of Aristotle. In fact, special concern for the literary form in interpreting Plato is not monopolized by Strauss. Around the turn of the new century a series of reconsiderations of Plato emerged in academia. And underlying the current studies of Plato is a sense that traditional interpretations of Plato have unduly neglected the literary, dramatic, and character-based aspects of Platonic philosophy (Kahn 1996; Nehamas 1998).6 Nevertheless, Strauss’s peculiarity is found in his contention that Plato’s motive for using the dialogic form is for the sake of avoiding political persecution of philosophers. Strauss postulates that the conflict between philosophy and politics is at the core of Plato’s thought. Strauss understands that it is first necessary for Plato to attenuate the hatred of ordinary people for philosophers and, at the same time, to convey appropriate messages to his fellow philosophers. What Plato had to say to philosophers is supposedly different from what he had to say to ordinary citizens. According to Strauss, Plato solved this problem by writing “esoterically” in the literary form of dialogues. Although some political philosophers have already noted this tension between politics and philosophy, Strauss is the first modern thinker to connect this unavoidable tension to the style of philosophical writing.7 Strauss notes that awareness of the persistent tension between politics and philosophy necessarily leads philosophical authors to write “esoterically.” Otherwise, philosophers are destined to be persecuted, just as Aristophanes portrayed the naïve Socrates in his comedy, Clouds. For Strauss, the transformation of the Aristophanean Socrates into the mature Platonic Socrates is critical. The Aristophanean Socrates is a naïve debunker of the gods who dethrones Zeus and replaces him with Vortex, Clouds, and Air. In contrast, the mature Platonic Socrates is one who has learnt the lesson from Aristophanes that his naïve devotion to science leads inevitably to his own destruction, as well as to the destruction of the city. The most conspicuous consequence of this transformation is that he becomes a “safe” speaker (CM, 53). In addition to avoiding persecution, Strauss provides a further reason why philosophers are reticent in revealing their findings. The further reason is that philosophers are—or should be—concerned about the solidarity of society, which is often endangered by their disclosure of truth. Because of these concerns, Strauss claims, philosophers have hidden the truth that they have found to be destructive of the solidarity of a city. Thus, they have chosen to write “esoterically,” so that their truth is exposed only to prudent philosophers. This “esoteric” teaching is intended to be conveyed to the very few prudent philosophers or careful readers, who are not confined by temporal and spatial limits. Strauss also observes that philosophers, in addition to their “esoteric” teaching, convey an “exoteric” teaching, which is necessary under the particular circumstances.8 Strauss informs us that Plato, for the purpose of containing both “esoteric” and “exoteric” teachings in his writings, employed the dialogic form and dramatic

152  Sungwoo Park setting, which is contrived to convey multiple meanings and to “say different things to different people,” (CM, 52). Strauss’s unique approach to the Platonic dialogues differentiates his interpretation from the dominant understanding of Plato. The dominant interpretation emphasizes the centrality of Plato’s theory of Forms and the immortality of the soul. For traditional readers, Strauss is too concerned with the conflict between philosophy and politics to pay due attention to the theory of Forms. Traditionally, the theory of Ideas (Forms) constitutes the basis for any adequate interpretation of the Republic. For instance, the defenders of Plato regard the Forms as representing Plato’s attempt to establish some stable ground for our moral, political, and even aesthetic standards of judgment that can cope with changeable realities. For the adversaries, the Forms provide the metaphysical support for a closed, hierarchical, and illiberal society. They denounce the theory of Forms for the dangerously absolutist aspect of Platonic political reform. Thus, both the defenders and the adversaries of Plato take the theory of Forms as an indispensable element in Platonic political reforms. Neither party doubts the priority of the theory of Forms as constituting the essence of Platonic political reform. In contrast, Strauss is relatively silent on the doctrine of Forms and other epistemological themes in his commentary on the Republic.9 Instead he takes into account the dialogic form of the Republic. He states that although the precise time is not known, the dialogue implies that there is an aristocratic coup and the regime established an authority called the Ten in Piraeus; some of the characters of the Republic (Polemarchus, Lysia, and Niceratus) were mere victims of the Thirty Tyrants; the topic of justice is discussed in the presence of victims of an abortive attempt made by the most unjust men to restore justice. From this dramatic background Strauss presumes the possibility that “the restoration attempted in the Republic will not take place on the political plane” (CM, 63). Strauss suggests that the Republic is not aimed at a serious proposal for political reform, but rather a warning about the difficulties inherent in all such attempts. From the beginning Strauss makes manifest that Plato’s intention in the Republic is to warn against the political ambition that is involved in political idealism. How does Strauss present such an extraordinary interpretation? In the following two sections I will examine Strauss’s extraordinary interpretation as it is involved in two major issues of the Republic.10 The first concerns the analogy of city and individual in the Republic. Strauss argues that Plato deliberately implies the collapse of the analogy for the purpose of emphasizing the necessity of the common good. The second issue concerns the establishment of the ideal city through the philosopher-king. He argues that the improbability of kallipolis is the central thesis of the Republic and, moreover, that Plato reveals the improbability of the ideal city in order to tame the existing political idealism.11 Strauss’s interpretation of the Republic is controversial not only because both the features are based on his extraordinary interpretation of the text, but, more importantly, because his extraordinary interpretation results in astonishing political implications. In the following sections I will try to figure out how his specific arguments concerning

Strauss, the Republic, and Korean politics   153 the two major issues of the Republic point to Strauss’s anti-utopianism and his understanding of a limited politics.

Strauss’s interpretation of the analogy and the necessity of the common good It is not an exaggeration that the structure of the analogy of city and man indeed dominates most of the Republic: it begins in the early part of Book 2 and it persists up to the analysis of degenerate regimes which finishes in Books 8 and 9. Socrates suggests using the analogy when he was challenged by ­Glaucon and Adeimantus, who demand the goodness of justice in every way. Socrates proposes to look into the justice of the city on the simple ground that the justice of a city is more visible than the justice of a man: the justice of city is the justice of a man writ large. Thus, Socrates and Glaucon’s attempt to search for justice is based on the symmetrical parallelism between a city and a man. As a city is composed of three classes (rulers, soldiers, and workers), a man is composed of three elements (reason, spiritedness, and desire). According to this parallelism, the principle of the best city should be analogously applied to the principle of the best man. The principle of the best city that Socrates and Glaucon discover is that each class in the city sticks to its own function by “doing one’s own job.” It would then follow that the justice of a man is also defined as each part of a man performing its own function (433a‒435b). More specifically, reason should rule desire with the aid of spiritedness. Having said this, it is noteworthy that the justice of a man is defined in purely psychological terms: the justice of a man is simply identified as the justice of a soul. This characteristic of the analogy raises a lot of scholarly debate. Here I am not getting involved in the controversial debates around the analogy.12 Rather I focus on Strauss’s comments on the analogy and its significance. In fact, Strauss is one of the few commentators who derive Plato’s political intentions from the problematic structure of the analogy instead of merely depreciating Plato’s scheme of analogy as fallacious. Strauss is outspoken in stating: “the parallel between the city and the soul is misleading” (CM, 109).13 He continues: If each part of the city does its work well, and hence has the virtue or virtues belonging to it, the city is wise, courageous, and moderate and therewith perfectly good: it does not need justice in addition. The case of the individual is different. If he is wise, courageous, and moderate, he is not yet perfectly good; for his goodness toward his fellows, his willingness to help them, to care for them, or to serve them (412d13), as distinguished from unwillingness to harm them, does not follow from his possessing the three first virtues. The three first virtues are sufficient for the city because the city is self-sufficient, and they are insufficient for the individual because the individual is not self-sufficient. (CM, 110)

154  Sungwoo Park What Strauss argues here is that the parallel of the analogy breaks down because there is a serious disproportion between the requirements of a good city and the requirements of a good man: according to the formal structure of the analogy there is no reason for a good man to necessarily contribute to the common good, yet the very contribution to the common good is the prerequisite for the good city to prevail. In principle, those who care for the order of their own souls need not consider others. As long as the justice of a man is defined in terms of the psychological relations between the parts of a soul, one cares only for the interaction of reason, spirit, and desire. The problem is that if individuals do not care for others, the city can no longer exist. A city is founded only when citizens get together based on a certain level of solidarity. Strauss points out that Plato needs to compromise his findings about individual souls for the sake of preserving that civic responsibility which makes one contribute to the common good of a city. Strauss argues that Plato stresses the necessity of civic responsibility simply by adding justice for the common good to justice as defined through the analogy (CM, 101). From this perspective, Strauss concludes that as long as individuals need justice for the common good in addition to justice for making harmony between the elements of their own souls, the parallel collapses: a city, unlike individuals, does not require this additional justice because a city need not care for another city for the sake of the common good of a world of cities (CM, 110).14 According to Strauss, although the parallel in the analogy breaks down, the message is clearly delivered to ordinary citizens that justice for the common good is necessary. Strauss emphasizes that Plato inserts justice for the common good into the structure of the analogy in order to encourage ordinary citizens to devote themselves to the common good (CM, 115, 116, 127, 137). For Strauss this is Plato’s “exoteric” teaching that pursuing justice of the soul is not enough to enable human beings to live in the world, so long as they remain in a city. Human beings as citizens have to play adequate roles in the city; otherwise, the city is endangered and the well-being of citizens is thereby threatened as well. Basically, I agree with Strauss’s exoteric interpretation that Plato devised a problematic analogy for the sake of being persuasive about the necessity of the common good within a political community. But the question is: who persuades whom about the necessity of the common good? Another comment by Strauss on the precarious status of the analogy implies his understanding of how the encouragement of the common good is actually practiced. At a certain point Strauss has second thoughts about his argument for the collapse of the analogy by pointing out that the parallel may possibly be maintained in an extraordinary case. Only if one is self-sufficient like the selfsufficient cities will the analogy persist. Philosophers may be self-sufficient in the sense that they completely “forget about their bodies.” The analogy can be maintained in the case of self-sufficient philosophers (CM, 127). Sharply distinguishing philosophers from ordinary people, Strauss makes it clear who should pursue the common good. Insofar as ordinary people care for their bodies, they need to pursue justice for the common good.

Strauss, the Republic, and Korean politics  155 Now, what is a philosopher’s role in the pursuit of the common good? Again, philosophers, by means of forgetting about their bodies, may be freed from the pursuit of justice for the common good. In that sense philosophers are not part of the city and philosophers need not be benefactors to others (CM, 125). While they can forget about their bodies, they cannot discard their bodies because their philosophical activities, though they are functions of their souls, would not be possible without their bodies. To that extent, philosophers are concerned about the existence of the political community and the pursuit of the common good. Then, why don’t philosophers encourage ordinary people to pursue the common good, although philosophers themselves step aside from the path to the common good? This conjecture seems to deviate somewhat from Strauss’s interpretation of the analogy. However, it observes Strauss’s hermeneutic principle that Plato addresses two different groups in two different ways. Then, why does Strauss rule out the possibility that philosophers and ordinary people cooperate while they play different roles in achieving the common good? This is because Strauss wants to derive another message from the precarious structure of the analogy. To repeat, the parallel of the analogy cannot help collapsing because of the insertion of justice for the common good, which makes possible the existence of the city. The existence of the city is a necessary condition for human beings, who are not self-sufficient enough to find food, clothes, homes, security, honor, and so on without being made or affected by others. However, if there are self-sufficient human beings, such as philosophers, who completely forget the dimension of the body,15 they no longer need either the city or the common good. Thus, for philosophers, the analogy need not collapse, because both the city and the philosophers are self-sufficient. Strauss here presents an “esoteric” teaching to philosophers that having a just soul in a specific sense has nothing to do with a contribution to the city: being a good man is irrelevant to being a good citizen.16 According to Strauss, Plato presents both exoteric and esoteric teachings to different classes by making the structure of the analogy precarious. Thus, Strauss’s provocative statement, “While the parallel between the city and the individual is thus surreptitiously established, it is surreptitiously brought into question” (CM, 101), should mean that Plato promotes two different kinds of justice for two different kinds of people, especially emphasizing the necessity of the common good (CM, 54). Strauss’s “exoteric” and “esoteric” interpretation of the Republic is based on the separation of philosophers and non-philosophers. Only philosophers are able to enhance their souls to the highest point in solitude or, at least while having nothing to do with public and political affairs, whereas other classes of citizens are just only with regard to their contributions to the city. For Strauss, inferior classes of citizens, for example, workers or soldiers, remain, at best, good citizens but not good men.17 As mentioned above, however, Strauss’s position may be extended to the possible cooperation between philosophers and ordinary people in terms of pursuing the common good, although this is apparently denied by Strauss.

156   Sungwoo Park

Strauss’s interpretation of ideal city and his anti-utopianism The second issue where Strauss’s interpretation of the Republic becomes distinguishable concerns the possibility of establishing an ideal city. Before examining Strauss’s interpretation, let me briefly recall what follows from the issue of the practicability of an ideal state. In the middle of Book 5 Socrates confronts Glaucon’s request for proof that an ideal city can be established in practice. In response, Socrates presents the well-known assertion that the ideal city is possible only when there is a coincidence of political power and philosophy, namely, the emergence of a philosopher-king (473d). From this point through the end of Book 7, Socrates dwells on the natural qualifications and the necessary educational program for making philosophers. Socrates finally demands that at the point of completing the whole educational program for philosophers, those who have had such an education should set aside purely philosophical studies in order to hold political office (519c–d).18 If Socrates’s demand is accepted, the philosopher-king would finally emerge as well as the ideal city. Immediately after Socrates lays down this requirement, however, Glaucon challenges Socrates by asking whether it ­ treats ­philosophers unjustly and is contrary to their interests (519e). Socrates replies that the laws of the ideal city are not designed to produce the greatest ­happiness of any one group of individuals, but must instead promote the good of the whole community (519e–520a). Socrates also argues that it is just to require philosophers to devote some of their time to public service because the philosophers have benefitted from the superb education which the city ­ provided (520a–d). Socrates assumes that if philosophers have been properly educated, they would accept the responsibility, however reluctantly (520e). In approaching the probability of the ideal city, the majority of commentators take the text at face value. They understand the coincidence of philosophy and politics as the indispensable requirement for bringing the ideal city into being and believe that Plato viewed the city as a model of the best city. Opinions differ within this majority viewpoint as to whether Plato saw this model as a blueprint for political action or as an “ideal” that actual cities could at best only roughly approximate.19 Regarding this issue Strauss provides a totally different line of argument. Strauss argues that Plato intends to imply the improbability of establishing an ideal city. According to Strauss, philosophers are unwilling to rule “because they are dominated by the eros for knowledge or knowing that philosophy is the most pleasant and blessed possession” (CM, 125).20 Strauss assumes that it is easier to persuade the multitude to accept the rule of philosophers than to persuade the philosophers to rule the multitude. Thus, philosophers may only be compelled to rule but never be persuaded.21 So far, Strauss appears to reiterate Socrates’s basic argument for the necessary compulsion of philosophers. However, Strauss goes further by answering the question of who compels p­ hilosophers to rule. His

Strauss, the Republic, and Korean politics  157 answer is paradoxical because he says that it is only non-philosophers who can compel philosophers yet the non-philosophers won’t do so due to the prejudice against philosophers. The only possible conjecture leads to absurdity: “the philosophers themselves persuade the non-philosophers to compel the philosophers to rule over them” (CM, 124). From this conjecture Strauss concludes that this will never happen because from the beginning philosophers have no interest in ruling.22 The union of politics and philosophy is a non-starter from the very beginning. However, Strauss investigates another possibility for rule by the philosophers. He points out that Thrasymachus may join the project with his art of rhetoric, so that people are persuaded to compel philosophers to rule. Strauss opens the possibility that Thrasymachus’s art may make it possible for philosophers to return to the cave. However, Strauss acknowledges a serious problem still remains unresolved because philosophers have to face the hatred of people in the cave. It becomes more evident that there is no chance for philosophers to rule and, at the same time, no possibility for an ideal city to come true. Strauss relates the logical conclusion of the improbability of an ideal city to the dramatic setting and, in particular, Socrates’s relationship with his interlocutor, Glaucon. Strauss argues that Socrates is concerned to cure Glaucon of his political ambition and to turn him toward the philosophical life. From this perspective, then, the discussion of an ideal city is supposed only to illuminate both the unavoidable tension between philosophy and politics and the necessary limits of the political community with respect to the cultivation of virtue in human beings. Strauss’s interpretation on the improbability of the ideal city substantiates his view that the Republic as a whole sets forth a profound critique of political idealism. Since the standard view is that the Republic is a proposal for a radical utopia, the first full-scale design for an ideal state, Strauss’s anti-utopian reading of the Republic attracts a lot of criticism. Interestingly, the main line of criticism is based on the political consequences of his anti-utopian reading. For the critics, while Strauss regards the Republic as a work of warning against political idealism, he implies the impossibility of achieving justice or the futility of political reform. Strauss is said to insert conservative politics into his reading of Plato or even to justify Machiavellian evil in politics based on the worldview of the impossibility of removing the evil.23 In this way, Strauss’s critics relate his anti-utopian reading of the Republic to a realist worldview and even to justification of evils. True, the Platonic idea that “there will be no rest from ills for the city” until kings become philosophers and philosophers become kings convinces Strauss that the best city is “against nature” (CM, 127). Strauss argues that the effort to bring kallipolis into being is tantamount to the effort to abolish evil from the human condition and thus the best city is against nature. In other words, Strauss regards the attempt to eradicate evil as a violation or an effort to transform the very premises of human nature. Thus, Victor Gourevitch correctly comments,

158  Sungwoo Park The proximate premise of [Strauss’s] political thought is that there are evils which are inseparable from the human condition, that is to say that there are evils that are in one sense of the term natural and hence cannot be eliminated. (Gourevitch 1968, 292) However, Strauss’s argument for the persistence of evil should not be taken as justifying existing evils. Strauss’s argument is rather based on the empirical observation that attempts to abolish evil have always had to resort to evil means. To that extent, evil is as much a part of human nature as good, and to seek to abolish it is the same as to attempt to transcend human nature itself. Thus, Strauss’s anti-utopianism rests on the political judgment that any attempt to eradicate evils completely results in unwelcome consequences.

Conclusion Strauss ends his commentary on the Republic as follows: The Republic then indeed makes clear what justice is. As Cicero has observed, the Republic does not bring to light the best possible regime but rather the nature of political things—the nature of the city. Socrates makes clear in the Republic of what character the city would have to be in order to satisfy the highest need of man. By letting us see that the city constructed in accordance with this requirement is not possible, he lets us see the essential limits, the nature, of the city. (CM, 138) For Strauss, the Republic is meant to enhance our awareness of the essential limits of politics. As discussed in the previous section, Strauss shows directly the limits of politics when he interprets the improbability of the ideal city and warns against political utopianism. His reading of the analogy between city and soul also points to the limits of politics. While Strauss finds an argument for the necessity of the common good in the breakdown of the analogy, he insinuates that politics alone cannot manage to make people pursue the common good. By showing that the parallel between city and soul is maintained only in the case of philosophers who are able to “forget” bodies, Strauss reminds us of the necessity of the common. Ironically, the pursuit of the common good requires the existence of philosophers who are free from the common good. Politics should accommodate philosophy. Strauss attributes his unique reading of the Republic to the unavoidable tension between politics and philosophy. His interpretations of the analogy and philosopher-king are fundamentally based on the divergent appreciations of the preeminent tension between politics and philosophy. In addition, Strauss seems to believe that the tension cannot ultimately be relieved. In a certain sense, he even revitalizes the tension between politics and philosophy by emphasizing the

Strauss, the Republic, and Korean politics  159 incorrigible disparity between philosophers and ordinary people.24 Why is Strauss so emphatic about the tension between politics and philosophy? Strauss’s assertion of “return to the natural cave” partially answers this question. Strauss identifies one of the modern pathologies as Heidegger’s radical historicism, which blinds us to the fundamental problems of human life, namely, the tension between politics and philosophy, between city and philosophy, and between citizens and philosophers. Strauss sees that, through the emergence of historical consciousness, all human thoughts are unduly reduced to specific historical situations (Strauss 1965, 18–34). Historicism makes the second cave an “artificial pit” beneath the cave of human affairs (Strauss 1973, 155–156; Kielmansegg, Mewes, and Glaser-Schmidt 1995, 101–102). In order to understand the genuine conflict between politics and philosophy, Strauss needs to restore the first natural cave. For the restoration of the natural cave, Strauss cannot help exaggerating the tension. Finally, let me try to situate Strauss again in the context of South Korean ­politics. Just like all political communities, South Korea also faces a question of how to achieve the common good. Currently, conspicuous phenomenon in South Korean politics is that people are not ready to pursue the common good while they fight over the order of priority in the list of common goods. Some put economic growth and national defense as the highest priority among other common goods. Others regard the extension of social welfare as the most urgent goal in South Korean society. No matter what is chosen as the common good in priority, I doubt that the common good is properly pursued in practice under the current situation in which people are not willing to sacrifice individual interests for the sake of the common good. People are made ready to pursue the common good before they choose a particular common good. In my opinion, South Korean ­politics need someone who is able to convince people that they should pursue common good before asking what is the “correct” kind of common good. Strauss’s reading of the Republic suggests that philosophers, while their nature is differentiated from pursuing the common good, are aware of the necessity for it and thus they play a certain role in persuading people to pursue the common good. What philosophers are supposed to do concretely for the sake of persuading people is still ambiguous. However, philosophers here and now should at least be aware of their responsibility. Only after this may they find their own strategy. Strauss’s interpretation of the Republic implies that there are separate roles for philosophers and ordinary people in the pursuit of common good. Strauss’s reading of the Republic may also warn against the excessive demand for morality in politics and the prevalence of political idealism in South Korea. The utopianism that Strauss wants to be opposed to is one on a much broader and larger scale than the political idealism in the South Korean context. Strauss was concerned about any political attempt to unite the world either from communism or from the universalism of the liberal state in the course of diagnosing the crisis of the West. However, it is noticeable that Strauss’s actual warning is about the evil means that any excessive political idealism may want to use in the name of ideal ends. Tired of political corruption, South Korean people naturally lean toward political idealism and politicians pander to people’s expectations by offering political

160   Sungwoo Park ideals as if they were realized immediately. Strauss’s argument for the improbability of the ideal city should be reappreciated in the South Korean context. Now, statesmen are required not to try to get rid of all evils, but to acknowledge the limits of politics prudently and set moderate goals. Of course, ordinary people are responsible for sorting out such a statesman. To do so, ordinary people also see the limits of politics. Political idealism could be tamed only when both politicians and ordinary people are aware of the limits of politics through juxtaposing politics with philosophy. Perhaps the first action that South Korean politics should take is to revitalize the genuine meaning of philosophy and to understand the tension between politics and philosophy in accordance.

Notes   1 The earlier version of this chapter was presented at the workshop of Leo Strauss in East Asian Context in Chung-Ang University, Seoul, September 14, 2012. I would like to thank the colleagues who participated in the workshop for their valuable comments and discussions.   2 Although there has been some scholarly appreciation of Leo Strauss in South Korea, academic debate on his political philosophy is rather limited and fragmented. See Chapter 6 of this volume for the study of Leo Strauss in Korean academia. In fact, Strauss received public attention only after a sensational book written by a South Korean journalist was published, see Park (2005).   3 In this vein Ahn Cheol Soo, a former university professor and successful entrepreneur, fit in with Korean people’s expectations and thus he drew public attention with skyrocketing approval ratings in the presidential election race 2012, although he had no experience in politics. The 2008 presidential election was exceptional in that people looked for a competent president. At the time people were conversely sick of the morally pure but politically inefficient incumbent president, Roh Moo Hyun. Thus, people elected a seemingly efficient candidate with the expectation of economic growth and increase in incomes. Yet the expectation faced total collapse due to the lack of political prudence of the new president Lee Myong Bak. This experience gave Korean politics another setback in terms of electing politically capable leaders because people again tended to look for another political rookie, who appears moral and even naïve.   4 Hereafter I use the abbreviation CM for Strauss’s book, City and Man.   5 From now on I will be using Stephanus numbers to cite Plato’s works. I do not indicate the name of dialogue when it is apparent in the context.   6 More recently Zuckert has attempted to interpret the whole corpus of Platonic dialogues as a consecutive series of dramas instead of taking individual dialogues as separate ones, see Zuckert (2009).   7 Strauss borrows this approach from the medieval Islamic philosopher, Alfarabi, who applies the utmost caution to his critique of the central religious doctrine of God. (See Strauss 1973, 22–37.)   8 What exactly constitutes an esoteric writing is a controversial question. But Strauss hints at how to decode “esoteric” writing by saying that anyone who would interpret the work of a philosopher or great writer must pay careful attention to his apparent contradictions and other intentional blunders, because these are deliberate means by which the writers conceal their thoughts (Strauss 1988, 223, 231, 1961, 27). For the controversy over Strauss’s esotericism, see Sabine (1953, esp. 220–222). Strauss himself addresses it (Strauss 1988, ch. 9). As for more recent controversy see Gunnell (1978); Tarcov (1983, esp. 16–18). For the most comprehensive but precise preview

Strauss, the Republic, and Korean politics   161 of Strauss’s thought in the tradition of political philosophy, see Tarcov and Pangle (1987).   9 In CM only about two of the 88 pages are devoted to the theme. When Strauss does confront this doctrine, he declares it to be “utterly incredible.” Furthermore, without explaining what he means, he remarks that no one has ever been able to provide a satisfactory account of this doctrine. Strauss’s dismissive attitude toward the theory of Forms invites indignation in the academic world. 10 In fact, Strauss’s interpretation attracted vigorous criticism on the one hand and marvelous admiration on the other. I will not discuss the rather non-academic controversies over Strauss’s political inclinations. See Burnyeat (1985). More recently, Strauss is depicted as an influential figure in the Republican takeover of the House in November 1994, see Staples (1994). 11 For rather hostile reviewers, see Hall (1977); Klosko (1986). They analytically criticize Strauss’s interpretation as unhistorical and speculative. However, their criticisms are somewhat defective, especially because they miss the mark of Strauss’s concern about philosophers’ hermeneutic difficulties. 12 Bernard Williams was one of the earlier scholars to point out the problems around the structure of the analogy (Williams 1999). However, his analysis is heavily influenced by the method of analytic philosophy so that it tends to miss Plato’s intention in using the problematic structure of the analogy. Recently the problem of the analogy has been readdressed comprehensively by Bloessner (2007). 13 Along a similar line of argument, Bloom calls the analogy of city and soul “spurious” and “most questionable” (Bloom 1991, 379, 412). 14 Both Plato and Strauss seem to ignore or abstract from international relations because they both believe that the city is self-sufficient, unlike individual men. However, it may be controversial whether Plato is completely ignorant of the necessity that even a good city cares about justice toward other cities for its survival (Zuckert 2011, 79, fn. 31). 15 Recall Alcibiades’s description of Socrates in the Symposium (220a‒222a), the Socrates who does not feel suffering in the ordinary sense, for example, coldness, hunger, sexual desire, and so on. 16 In a different tenor, Aristotle explicitly addresses the problematic relationship of a good man and a good citizen. See Aristotle (1984, 1278b1–5). 17 For this reason, Strauss emphasizes the liberal education of ordinary citizens as a means of fostering “gentlemen,” who can see the superiority of philosophers (Strauss 1995, 13–15). Strauss’s most desirable society may be characterized as ruled by gentlemen according to laws and under the supervision of philosophers, who act as umpires (Strauss 1988, 81, 84). 18 Socrates says at 519c–d: Our job as founders is to compel the best natures to go to the study which we were saying before is the greatest, to see the good and to go up that ascent; and when they have gone up and seen sufficiently, not to permit them what is now permitted. [What is permitted] is to remain there and not be willing to go down again among those prisoners or share their labors and honors, whether they be slighter or more serious. 19 Those who belong to this group take pains in finding the philosopher’s moral and philosophical motivation to rule the city. For example, see Kraut (1973, 1991); Beatty (1976); Andrew (1983). 20 On the same page, Strauss also states, “They [philosophers] know that the life not dedicated to philosophy and therefore even political life at its best is like life in a cave, so much so that the city can be identified with the Cave.” 21 The following are the passages Strauss refers to for the claim that philosophers can only be compelled to rule the cities. 499b–c, 500d4–5, 520a–d, 521b7, 539e2–3. See CM, 124.

162   Sungwoo Park 22 In addition to the improbability of the coincidence of political power and philosophy, the assertion of the improbability of logopolis, the principle of which is composed of the radical equality of men and women and the common sharing of property and family, makes Strauss’s interpretation appear distinctively unorthodox. Strauss claims that because the central institutional structure of the ideal state could not work in practice, this assertion should be interpreted as ironic, whereas the orthodox interpretation of Plato always takes Socrates’s words as serious. For a critique of Strauss’s interpretation of the improbability of logopolis, see Klosko (1986); Hall (1977). In contrast, Saxonhouse (1978) notes the comic element in the Republic on different grounds. 23 In that sense, Burnyeat’s 1985 article in The New York Review of Books depicted him as advocating the surrender of the critical intellect to the authority of certain canonical texts. By extending this evaluation of Strauss, a spate of debunking studies depicted Strauss as a dismantling liberal modernity and restoring ancient hierarchies based on rank and authority. For example, Holmes (1993, ch. 3); Larmore (1996, ch. 3). 24 This is the reason why some commentators misunderstand Strauss and take his assertions even for “conspiracy for philosophers.” See Holmes (1993, ch. 3).

Bibliography Andrew, Edward. 1983. “Descent to the Cave,” Review of Politics 45:4. Aristotle. 1984. Politics. Trans. Carnes Lord. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Beatty, Joseph. 1976. “Why Should Plato’s Philosophers be Moral and, hence, Rule?,” Review of Politics 38:4. Bloessner, Nobert. 2007. “The City-Soul Analogy,” in The Cambridge Companion to Plato’s Republic, edited by G. R. F. Ferrari. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bloom, Alan. 1991. The Republic of Plato. New York: Basic Books. Burnyeat, Myles F. 1985. “Sphinx Without a Secret,” The New York Review of Books (May 30). Gourevitch, Victor. 1968. “Philosophy and Politics, II,” Review of Metaphysics 22:2. Gunnell, John. 1978. “The Myth of the Tradition,” American Political Science Review 72:1. Hall, Dale. 1977. “The Republic and the Limits of Politics,” Political Theory 5:3. Holmes, Stephen. 1993. The Anatomy of Antiliberalism. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kahn, Charles. 1996. Plato and the Socratic Dialogue: The Philosophical Use of a Literary Form. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kielmansegg, Peter, Mewes, Horst, and Glaser-Schmidt, Elisabeth. 1995. Hannah Arendt and Leo Strauss: German Émigrés and American Political Thought after World War II, Publications of the German Historical Institute. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 101–102. Klosko, George. 1986. “The ‘Straussian’ Interpretation of Plato’s Republic,” History of Political Thought 7:2. Kraut, Richard. 1973. “Egoism, Love, and Political Office in Plato,” Philosophical Review 82:3. Kraut, Richard. 1991. “Return to the Cave: Republic 519–521,” Proceedings of the Boston Area Colloquium in Philosophy, 7. Larmore, Charles. 1996. The Morals of Modernity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Nehamas, Alexander. 1998. The Art of Living: Socratic Reflections from Plato to Foucault. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Strauss, the Republic, and Korean politics   163 Park, Seoung Lae. 2005. Leo Strauss: A Resurrected Godfather of Neocons. Seoul: Kimyoung-sa. Sabine, George. 1953. “Review of ‘Persecution and the Art of Writing’,” Ethics 63:3. Saxonhouse, Arlene. 1978. “Comedy in Callipolis: Animal Imagery in the Republic,” American Political Science Review 72:3. Shin, Doh Chull and Park, Chong-Min. 2008. “The Mass Public and Democratic Politics in South Korea,” in How East Asians View Democracy, edited by Yun-han Chu, Larry Diamond, Andrew J. Nathan, and Doh Chull Shin. New York: Columbia University Press, 39. Staples, Brent. 1994. “Undemocratic Vistas: The Sinister Vogue of Leo Strauss,” New York Times (November 28). Strauss, Leo. 1965. Natural Right and History. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1973. Persecution and the Art of Writing. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. Strauss, Leo. 1978. City and Man. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1988. What Is Political Philosophy? and Other Studies. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1961. On Tyranny. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1995. Liberalism, Ancient and Modern. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 13–15. Tarcov, Nathan. 1983. “Philosophy and History: Tradition and Interpretation in the Work of Leo Strauss,” Polity 16:1. Tarcov, Nathan. 2006. “Will the Real Leo Strauss Please Stand Up?,” The American Interest 2:1. Tarcov, Nathan and Pangle, Thomas. 1987. “Epilogue: Leo Strauss and the History of Political Philosophy,” in History of Political Philosophy, edited by Leo Strauss and Joseph Cropsey. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Williams, Bernard. 1999. “The Analogy of city and soul in Plato’s Republic,” in Plato, edited by Gail Fine. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Zuckert, Catherine H. 2008. The Truth about Leo Strauss: Political Philosophy and American Democracy. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Zuckert, Catherine H. 2009. Plato’s Philosophers: The Coherence of the Dialogues. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Zuckert, Catherine H. 2011. “Strauss’s New Reading of Plato,” in Leo Strauss, Education, and Political Thought. Lanham: The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing.

10 Civilization, morality, and pluralism A Straussian perspective on Japanese modernity Takashi Kibe

Introduction Leo Strauss famously argues that Western modernity presents a process in which historicism becomes the dominant way of thinking, resulting ultimately in nihilistic and fanatic irrationality. In his view, as the history of Western civilization unfolds, belief in progress and universal values is finally abandoned. To overcome this predicament, Strauss maintains that it is necessary to return to two roots of Western civilization, namely the biblical tradition and Greek philosophy (JPCM, 140). Strauss’s lecture in 1941 entitled “German Nihilism” deserves special attention in that Strauss contends that the German devolution into irrationalism is distinct from the Japanese version. Defining civilization as the conscious culture of humanity and hence reason, he argues that nihilism is “the rejection of the principles of civilization as such” and that a nihilist is “a man who knows the principles of civilization, if only in a superficial way” (Strauss 1999, 364–365). He claims that “Japan, e.g., cannot be as nihilistic as Germany, because Japan has been much less civilized in the sense defined than was Germany” (ibid., 366). Interestingly, however, the enumerated features of German nihilism, such as the emphasis on military virtues, particularly courage as the ability to bear any physical pain, self-sacrifice, and self-denial (ibid., 370–371), belong to ­Japanese militarism as well.1 Some questions arise from Strauss’s suppositions. How can we understand Japanese modernity, which similarly resulted in the same fanaticism and barbarism, in comparison to German modernity? What is the peculiar nature of Japanese modernity? Wasn’t the Japanese version of fanaticism that dominated the nation in the 1930s and 1940s up to the end of World War II equally nihilistic? Cannot a nation that is not “fully civilized” be nihilistic in its own way? The main purpose of this chapter is to show that Japanese modernity is a case in point in which a non-­ Western and “much less civilized” country fell into fanaticism and nihilism in its own way, driven by the perceived need to catch up with Western civilization. To this end, I will critically examine the thought of Yukichi Fukuzawa (1835– 1901), the founder of Keio University and the most influential enlightenment

A Straussian perspective on Japanese modernity   165 thinker in modern Japan. I focus on him because he is not only a man of great intellect but also the first theorist of his era to write about civilization, that is, the author of An Outline of a Theory of Civilization published in 1875 (hereafter I refer to it as OTC in citation).2 As Albert Craig (2009, ix) puts it, “He used the Western idea of ‘stages of history’ prescriptively to plot Japan’s future course, and descriptively to analyze its past and present.” Fukuzawa’s theory of civilization thus presents a serious attempt to grasp the essence of the civilizational process in the very moment of crisis when all traditions are shaken, with a view to charting a future route for his countrymen.3 In particular, this chapter problematizes Fukuzawa’s thought with respect to the militaristic fanaticism of modern Japan that ended in 1945, thus presenting an attempt to “understand the low in the light of the high” (LAM, 225). By critically examining his views on civilization in general and the emperor in particular, I will consider how Fukuzawa (normally praised as one of the greatest minds in modern Japan), by aiming to catch up with Western civilization, unwittingly planted the seeds of conformism, relativism, and fanaticism. In my analysis, I will attempt to show that Strauss’s arguments on the moral issues involved in “exceptional situations” help us to critically examine Fukuzawa’s thought. The structure of this chapter is as follows. In the first section, by characterizing the thinking underlying Fukuzawa’s theory of civilization as “relative thinking,” I will show how it connects his theory with the practical goal of national independence. In the second section, I will consider how Fukuzawa, following his two teachers on civilization, Buckle and Guizot, identifies skepticism and pluralism as the key elements of the civilizational process. In the third section, I will observe how Fukuzawa, facing the difficulty of enlightening “the ignorant masses,” deviates from his conceptions of civilization by developing his arguments on the centripetal role of the emperor and constitutional monarchy, thereby departing from his key conditions. In the fourth section, I will deploy Strauss’s argument on the moral status of exceptional situations in order to shed light on the problematic aspects of Fukuzawa’s views on the emperor and civilization.

Relative thinking, civilization, and national independence Although Fukuzawa’s theory draws on his Western teachers of civilization, Buckle and Guizot, he never mindlessly imitates them. On the one hand, he needs to transcend Japan, since all traditions have been shaken and since the ancestral norms identified with the right way of life have broken down—the initial condition for philosophical reflection. On the other hand, he should transcend the allegedly general theory of civilization to return to his particular starting point, to Japan in the process of state-construction and nation-­ building. Indeed, his arguments on civilization are closely related to a concern over national independence. As he states, “The only reason for making the people in our country today advance toward civilization is to preserve our country’s ­independence” (OTC, 254). For him, “the only duty of the Japanese at present is to preserve Japan’s national polity” (ibid., 36). In Fukugawa’s view, to

166   Takashi Kibe secure national independence is all the more necessary because “a backward civilization is controlled by an advanced civilization” (ibid., 225), and Japan’s own civilization was under threat from the West. Hence Fukuzawa pursues the twofold task of learning from Western civilization and securing thereby national independence against Western pressures its “advanced” civilization. At this juncture, one naturally wonders whether his particular intention to follow the path of Western civilization for the sake of national independence is compatible with a general theory of civilization. Fukuzawa himself is fully aware that “the question of a country’s independence from foreign countries is no more than one small part in a complete theory of civilization” (OTC, 225). How can Fukuzawa’s objective of national independence be embedded within his theory of civilization? This question can be cleared up by looking at the basic way of thinking underlying Fukuzawa’s arguments on civilization. This mode of thinking, which I characterize here as “relative thinking,” enables Fukuzawa to square the specific objective of national independence with a general theory of civilization. He emphasizes the importance of relative thinking at the very beginning of the first chapter in An Outline as follows: Light and heavy, long and short, good and bad, right and wrong are all relative terms. If there were no light, there could be no heavy; if there were no good, there could be no bad. Thus, light is light relative to heavy, and good is good relative to bad. If there were not such relativity between one and the other, we could not debate over light and heavy or good and bad. The criterion in terms of which something is judged relatively heavy or good may be called the basis of argumentation. (OTC, 7) We can conceive of such a criterion in terms of expediency or usefulness. Throughout An Outline, Fukuzawa does not take things at face value but takes their effects into account, in a manner akin to utilitarianism (indeed, he was acquainted with Mill’s work). For example, he argues that every government is established for the sake of expediency (OTC, 50). Moreover, Fukuzawa iconoclastically criticizes social customs and institutions as well as moral teachings, such as Confucianism, by exposing their negative effects on society. To forget the actual purposes or utilities of things because of a traditional way of thinking is a decisive feature of “wakudeki,” by which Fukuzawa means the group of various mindsets, such as credulity and blind belief, which hinder civilization (ibid., 37). According to Fukuzawa, however, utility or lack of utility cannot be “the basis of argumentation,” without which “one cannot discuss the right and wrong, the merits and demerits of an issue” (OTC, 8). Fukuzawa’s relative thinking thus leads to the consideration of purpose and means, with the result that the utility of civilization is judged primarily in terms of purpose and means. At this juncture, national independence comes to the fore. Fukuzawa claims that “our country’s independence is the goal, and our people’s civilization is the way to that goal”

A Straussian perspective on Japanese modernity   167 (ibid., 254), thereby subordinating his whole discussion of civilization to the purpose of securing national independence. In this way, his relative thinking is firmly anchored to the goal of national independence, far from falling into relativism. Relative thinking promotes consideration of not only purpose and means, but also of “proper times and places.” This aspect comes into view in Fukuzawa’s discussion of the distinction between private intellect and public intellect. He posits that personal intellect is the capacity to fathom out the principles of things. In contrast, he defines public intellect as the capacity to weigh human things, to give weightier things priority, and to judge their proper times and places. Fukuzawa calls public intellect “the greater intellect of wisdom,” whereas he refers to personal intellect as “the lesser intellect of know-how” (OTC, 99). Public intellect is the work of wisdom that aims at making personal morality and personal intellect serve the common good of society (ibid., 101). His view on the purpose of civilization derives, therefore, from public intellect, which considers “proper times and places” and regards national independence as the most urgent common issue for Japan. Fukuzawa’s relative thinking might seem very close to moral relativism from a Straussian perspective. As is well known, Strauss argues that the nineteenth-­ century belief in civilization and progress, once called into question, turned into “a crisis of Western civilization as a whole” (JPCM, 98), which consisted of the rejection of natural right and led to moral relativism and nihilism. Seen from this perspective, Fukuzawa’s relative thinking would appear to be prone to going down the slippery slope to nihilism. Strictly speaking, however, relative thinking as such is not tantamount to moral relativism. First of all, following Buckle, Fukuzawa regards basic personal morality as identical across cultures.4 Furthermore, he never discards the value of morality insofar as it reflects the cultivation of one’s mind. He claims that we, as human beings, take upon ourselves the responsibility for cultivating personal morality (OTC, 136). For him, civilization entails the process of making human behavior more sophisticated and ennobling (ibid., 40). Rather than believing that “historical trends are absolutely ambiguous and therefore cannot serve as a standard” (JPCM, 101), he believes firmly in the progress of civilization. Even in his last years, he hoped to make efforts to elevate “the moral standards of men and women of my land to make them truly worthy of a civilized nation,” as he wrote in his Autobiography (Fukuzawa [1899] 1966, 336). It is, therefore, safe to say that given that throughout his life Fukuzawa embraced a belief in moral standards, his relative thinking does not automatically translate into moral relativism, even though his moral theory was not fully developed theoretically and is basically grounded in common sense.5 We will discuss a truly problematic aspect of his relative thinking in the fourth section.

Skepticism and pluralism In this section, I will turn to the basic contours of Fukuzawa’s view of civilization. Specifically, I will consider how Fukuzawa identifies skepticism and

168   Takashi Kibe ­pluralism as the key factors of the civilizing processes, following his two teachers of civilization, Buckle and Guizot. Fukuzawa defines civilization as follows: “In its broad sense, ‘civilization’ means not only comfort in daily necessities but also the refining of intellect and the cultivation of morality so as to elevate human life to a higher plane” (OTC, 45).6 The distinction between the material and the intellectual-moral aspects in civilization corresponds to his distinction between the “visible exterior” and the “inner spirit” of civilization. He claims that the former is easy to adopt, whereas the latter is the real basis of civilization, although it is difficult to acquire (ibid., 21). Wherein then does the spirit of civilization lie? In this respect, Fukuzawa’s theory of civilization is influenced by two different thinkers, Henry Buckle and François Guizot. They differ from each other in terms of the understanding of what constitutes the spirit of civilization. Roughly speaking, Buckle seeks the key to civilization in the intellectual emancipation from superstition and religion, whereas Guizot conceives of civilization as the outcome of the interplay and tension of diverse, often competing elements. As a result, Buckle and Guizot also have different views on what hinders civilization. For Buckle ([1857] 2011, 308), it is the lack of “skepticism” about tradition, custom, delusion, and superstition. In his view, skepticism is thus the motor of civilization, which remedies “the three fundamental errors of the olden time,” namely, “errors which made the people, in politics too confiding; in science too credulous; in religion too intolerant.” Therefore, “until doubt began, progress was impossible” (ibid., 307). In contrast, for Guizot ([1828] 1985, 77), it is “the exclusive domination or at least the exclusive preponderance of a single principle, of a single form,” which leads to tyranny.7 Compared to Buckle, who tends to derive social consequences directly from intellectual progress, Guizot pays more careful attention to the interactive or reciprocal relationship between social and moral developments, society and l’homme intérieur (“the interior of mankind”) (ibid., 66). His two teachers are so distinct and somewhat different in this respect that Fukuzawa moves between two trajectories. On the one hand, he follows Buckle’s secular and intellect-based view in defining civilization as “the progress of man’s knowledge and virtue” (OTC, 48). In Fukuzawa’s view, it is “wakudeki” denoting credulity or blind belief, which one needs to get rid of in order to “enter the realm of vital intellectual activity.” He explains that the backwardness of Japan is accounted for by the inactivity of intellect due to “wakudeki.”8 Hence, “the first order of business in the development of our intellectual power lies in sweeping away credulity towards past customs and adopting the spirit of Western civilization” (ibid., 36–37).9 Therefore, Fukuzawa is opposed to Shinto scholars who argue for the unity of politics and religion centralized and embodied in the emperor, or who argue in Fukuzawa’s eyes simply for unvarnished theocracy (ibid., 29). Theocracy as a government based on divine revelation is, Fukuzawa contends, nothing but “a temporary device employed in the dark age of the ancient past,” which lost its value as human intelligence developed (ibid., 40). It is hence a clear case of credulity in which people obey

A Straussian perspective on Japanese modernity   169 political authority “in awe of its external forms” (ibid., 39). For him, it is “the height of credulity” to “lead men further down the path of stupidity” and to “make the people ignorant” in order to establish political authority (ibid., 40). On the other hand, Fukuzawa embraces Guizot’s pluralist view. He claims that “an essential feature of civilized progress lies in endeavoring to intensify and multiply human enterprises and needs, to find more and more outlets … and to stimulate the activities of the human spirit” (OTC, 26).10 According to Fukuzawa, “the spirit of freedom” as the primary factor of civilization can exist solely in an atmosphere of “tajisoron” or “diversity and contending views” (ibid., 27). Fukuzawa seeks the main cause of the backwardness of Japan in the lack or insufficiency of diversity, which is caused by the “imbalance or concentration of power” (kenryoku hencho) that “pervades the entire network of Japanese society” (ibid., 176). He writes: Japanese society since ancient times exhibits this division between rulers and ruled. This imbalance has perdured right up to the present time. Needless to say, the common people never asserted their own rights. Both religion and learning were under the control of the ruling class and never ­succeeded in becoming independent. Although in the wartime period the warriors seem to have been loyal and courageous, they never knew the taste of individuality. (OTC, 206) Therefore, with this line of reasoning, Fukuzawa argues that if one does not get rid of “the disease of imbalance” that subordinates all aspects of civil life solely to the single authority of power so that there is no space for pluralism to flourish, “no real progress will be made in the level of civilization” (ibid., 210). Fukuzawa’s view of the civilizing process and the state of Japanese society reflects some of the difference in perspective between Buckle and Guizot. Yet, it is noteworthy that there is also a broad agreement between them. Both of them agree on the notion that liberty is of pivotal importance, regardless of whether it proceeds from skepticism (Buckle [1857] 2011, 308) or diversity (Guizot [1828] 1985, 77). Fukuzawa manages to integrate the two different approaches when he contends, “When a man’s mental processes are manifold and multifarious and his thought is rich, even his propensity to credulity will naturally become feeble” (OTC, 28–29). In other words, according to Fukuzawa, in order for Japan to make civilizational progress it is necessary that skepticism replace credulity and that diversity supersede conformity. In either case, people should be not only materially but also intellectually and morally independent individuals. In this way, personal independence is a necessary condition for Japan to pursue the path of civilization and hence to be an independent nation. Here again we recognize the core theme of his earlier work An Encouragement to Learning: “national independence through personal independence” (Fukuzawa [1872–1876] 2012, 20). Pursuing this theme, Fukuzawa inevitably faces a serious question about how to make the people as a whole “independent”—the topic we now turn to in the next section.

170  Takashi Kibe

“The ignorant masses” and constitutional monarchy In the foregoing section, we have observed that Fukuzawa identifies skepticism and pluralism as the key conditions of civilizational progress. In this section, I will consider how Fukuzawa, coping with the practical difficulty of enlightening “the ignorant masses,” develops his arguments on the centripetal role of the emperor and constitutional monarchy, thereby deviating from the key conditions posited earlier. In An Outline, Fukuzawa appears to be sanguine about the general possibility of intellectual and moral development. For he claims that once obstacles are removed, human nature can develop by itself to make progress in civilization, since “human life is by nature apt for civilization” (OTC, 26). Persons whose powers of intelligence are developed can manage themselves: “they do good of their own accord because they know the reason why they ought to do good” (ibid., 147). However, Fukuzawa admits different degrees of intellect among people. For instance, “national or public opinion” is “the views of the intelligent minority among the middle and upper classes,” whereas “the ignorant majority simply follow behind” (OTC, 83). If civilizational progress does not equalize the unevenly diffused intellectual capabilities and activities, how can people learn morality? Given his views on the necessity of skepticism and pluralism, Fukuzawa provides an interesting answer: religion. Being an agnostic,11 Fukuzawa pragmatically views religions as teachings for moral guidance. In his posthumously published “Notes,” Fukuzawa ([1875– 1876] 1981, 13) claims that whatever serves as moral guidance—whether it is Buddhism, Shintoism, Christianity, indigenous deities, or utilitarianism—is necessary, as long as it fits the intelligence of the people. Based on this pragmatic understanding, Fukuzawa develops his argument for religion as moral guidance for uneducated people. In the collection of his sayings entitled Fukuo hyakuwa, Fukuzawa ([1897] 1981, 43) argues that one needs to conceive of and strive for the supreme good. Given the hereditary differences in intellect as well as the different degrees of education and social experience, however, it is men and women of the upper classes that endeavor to do so. In contrast, people of the lower classes, who are little more than “benighted men and women,” need moral guidance from religion. Admittedly, there are many mysterious stories in religious teachings (ibid., 42), but they are nonetheless “powerful means” to teach the common people morality (ibid., 45). All of this suggests that he gives up the Bucklean requirement of emancipation from credulity, at least with respect to the common people. Yet, Fukuzawa does not hold that religion is sufficient for the cause of national independence and the nation-building project. In “On Moral Teaching,” Fukuzawa ([1881] 1960, 291) claims that “patriotic loyalty” (hokoku jinchu) is “the most appropriate as the standard of morality” in Japan for two reasons. First, it is based on the natural sentiment of human beings who feel attached to things that are precious, time-honored, and close. Second, it is possible for the middle class consisting mainly of former samurai to shift from their feudal

A Straussian perspective on Japanese modernity  171 loyalty towards lords to patriotic loyalty towards the nation.12 But there is a problem with the common people: they are “likely to be less sensitive to, or less enthusiastic about, patriotic loyalty” (ibid.). While pointing to the need for religion for moral education, Fukuzawa is silent on how religion teaches patriotism. Religion is for him a matter of basic morality, but not of nationalism and patriotism. In this context, the emperor comes to the fore in order to assume the role as the centripetal core of patriotic loyalty. This line of thought is conspicuous in his book On the Imperial House, published seven years after the publication of An Outline. In this book, Fukuzawa ([1882] 1981, 67) suggests that the Imperial House assume multiple roles to unify the people’s hearts in order to fend off the disintegrating conflicts of parliamentary politics, to maintain the moral sentiments of the people through charities and honors, and to patronize the arts and sciences. The emperor here is understood to be a driving force towards civilization. Fukuzawa repeatedly emphasizes that the Imperial House should be located “outside of politics.” This means that Fukuzawa wants to prevent any political party from having recourse to the emperor’s authority in order to refute its political antagonists, thus embroiling him in partisan conflicts. In On the Imperial House, Fukuzawa refers ([1882] 1981, 68), though not extensively, to Walter Bagehot, and his view on the emperor is congenial to— and possibly influenced by—Bagehot’s The English Constitution (cf. Anzai 2007, chapter 5). As is well known, in this work Bagehot ([1867] 2001, 5) distinguishes between “the dignified parts” and “the efficient parts” of the British political system. The former are those parts “which excite and preserve the reverence of the population,” whereas the latter are those parts “by which it [government—TK], in fact, works and rules.” The paramount exemplar of the dignified part is the monarch, then Queen Victoria, whereas the efficient part is embodied by the government. In Bagehot’s view, the royal ruler is “a visible symbol of unity [for] those still so imperfectly educated as to need a symbol,” thus being transcendent over political conflicts (ibid., 41). He regards the monarch as the effective means to enlist “the credulous obedience of enormous masses” (ibid., 40). This sentiment-based aspect of monarchy is what philosophers deride as “superstition,” but “its results are inestimable” on the part of “countless ignorant men and women” (ibid., 30). This is the advantage that makes monarchy preferable to a republican regime, as Bagehot puts it: “So long as the human heart is strong and the human reason weak, Royalty will be strong because it appeals to diffused feeling, and Republics weak because they appeal to understanding” (ibid., 37). Fukuzawa clearly understands the importance of sentiment and credulity on the part of common people in stabilizing the polity. Fukuzawa is fully aware that one might point out that he uses the emperor as a “fraudulent means to cajole the ignorant masses” ([1882] 1981, 45). He does not directly refute this criticism but only stresses expediency and the need of the emperor as the centripetal core of society. In another treatise on the emperor, published one year before the promulgation of the Meiji constitution, Fukuzawa ([1888] 1981, 152–153) attempts

172  Takashi Kibe to make the most of people’s natural sentiment of awe and respect towards timehonored things as the basis of loyalty towards the emperor. This stands in sharp contrast with An Outline, in which he associates the sentiment of awe and respect for the long royal lineage with credulity, to the effect that “those that are credulous toward old ways take pride in things whose origins can be traced far back in history” (OTC, 41). Here again Fukuzawa has recourse to credulity—the very sentiment he denounces in An Outline as the major obstacle to civilization. Credulity is not rational, he implicitly suggests, but the political use of it can be rational.13 In Fukuo hyakuwa, Fukuzawa presents an even more radically instrumentalist view of monarchy, which would appall any devout monarchist, by drawing on the idea of a correlation between types of regime and levels of civilizational progress. Fukuzawa ([1897] 1981, 217) claims that a civilized country with a monarch is a sign of the low level of intellect of the people as a whole. People see only the majestic appearance of their monarch, who normally has recourse to a “divine spirit” to endow his or her political power with a religious aura and hence legitimacy, so that the people ardently admire and voluntarily obey him or her (ibid., 220–221). In a nutshell, constitutional monarchy that has recourse to majestic appearances is “a temporary expedient means” or “the last resort” to gain the hearts of the “ignorant masses” and thereby to control them (ibid., 222–223). In this respect, there is for Fukuzawa only a little difference between a constitutional monarchy, such as in Britain, and a republican polity, such as in the United States. Each of them utilizes “a mysterious aura” as a means to unite people in its own way (ibid., 222). Seen in this light, the Japanese monarchy is nothing but the expedient, though temporary, means to unite the people. Indeed, Fukuzawa argues that any sensible intellectual should hold the view that faith in a constitutional monarch needs to be strengthened, “as if one were eager at religious as well as secular worship” (ibid., 223). In a sequel to Fukuo hyakuwa, he claims that the people should worship and respect the emperor, “as if he were a god, as if he were their father and mother” ([1892] 1981, 196). He thus admits, or may even require, that worship of the emperor will take on a religious character. Evidently, Fukuzawa significantly moved away from his previous view of the emperor, as presented in his Outline. Throughout this earlier work, Fukuzawa posited no decisive role for the emperor. He warned against a tendency to confuse the imperial lineage with national polity, suggesting that the preservation of the latter is much more important than the former (OTC, 34). Furthermore, he opposed the attempt to derive reverence for the Imperial House from an appeal to the “people’s natural nostalgia for the past,” because, as he observed, close bonds of feeling between the people and the emperor are lacking (ibid., 230). Indeed, Fukuzawa warned against “pseudo gentlemen” and a “superficial brand of loyalism” as undesirable consequences emerging from placing the emperor at the core of national integration (ibid., 232). Given his relative mode of thinking, however, there was no difficulty for him to recognize the social expediency of the emperor, as long as the prospect

A Straussian perspective on Japanese modernity   173 existed that the emperor would gain ground with the populace. Already in his Outline, this trajectory is implied. In that work he made explicit that “the ethic of faithful and loyal retainers, or the theories of Christianity, of Confucianism, and of Buddhism can be called wise or foolish depending on how they are practiced,” because they are all “means of civilization” (OTC, 259). The change in his view of the emperor is therefore not so much a conversion to a devout royalist position as a change in his assessment of the social expediency of the emperor.

The irony of temporariness We are now left with an interpretative difficulty. On the one hand, Fukuzawa has recourse to the credulous nature of the people in his argument on the emperor. On the other, he identifies credulity as the main obstacle to civilizational progress. One cannot help asking how we can square his view on the emperor with his view on civilization?14 Theoretically, there are two ways to do this. One is to claim that the Meiji regime, even relying on credulity and hence being inimical to skepticism and pluralism, is on the right path of civilization. Another way is to view this regime as a necessary means and hence a temporary detour from the right path of civilization. However, either way faces its own problems. Concerning the “on the right path” argument, one rightly wonders on what criteria it is based. Skepticism and pluralism cannot be deployed to show that a regime detrimental to these two key conditions is making progress towards civilization. Furthermore, Fukuzawa’s account of civilization offers no such criteria. According to Strauss, the classic natural right doctrine places emphasis not on the process as such but on the end of it: “the process cannot be understood except in the light of the completed thing or of the end of the process” (NRH, 123). The perspective from the completed end thus gives us moral guidance and standards by which we evaluate our situations and take our bearings. In contrast, for Fukuzawa the final and hence perfect stage of civilizational process is too remote to give us guidance and standards. In addition, even if we accept Fukuzawa’s assumption that a political regime is commensurate with the given intellectual and moral level of the people, it is another thing whether this regime is on the path towards civilization. In this way, the “on the right path” argument is a non-starter as the demonstration of the compatibility between Fukuzawa’s views of the emperor and of civilization. Concerning the “necessary detour” argument, it is noteworthy that Strauss admits to such a situation. Strauss maintains that it is “an extreme situation” when “the very existence or independence of a society is at stake,” the continuance of which is a path of the common good. In this situation, “the exceptions are as just as the rules” of natural right and justice (NRH, 160). His argument on exceptional situations appears to help us understand Fukuzawa’s seemingly contradictory views. Observing that Fukuzawa speaks of national independence as “the urgent crisis before us” (OTC, 254), his credulity-dependent view of the

174  Takashi Kibe emperor as the centripetal core of society may be justifiable as a necessary means in order to respond to “an extreme situation,” which gives priority to national independence at the price of skepticism and pluralism. Yet, before hastily riding piggyback on Strauss’s argument, we need to carefully listen to what he says on this issue. In his view, there is a crucial difference between Aristotle and Machiavelli in this respect. Machiavelli “takes his bearings by the extreme situations” where “the demands of justice are reduced to the requirements of necessity,” but not by “the normal situations” where “the demands of justice in the strict sense are the highest law.” He is neither reluctant to deviate from “what is normally right” nor concerned with “the punctilious investigation of whether any particular deviation is really necessary or not.” This is the opposite of the Aristotelian statesman, who “takes his bearings by the normal situation and by what is normally right,” hence reluctantly deviating from “what is normally right” to “save the cause of justice and humanity itself” (NRH, 162). Applying Strauss’s distinction between the Aristotelian and the M ­ achiavellian statesman to Fukuzawa’s thought, it seems difficult to decide on which type Fukuzawa subscribes to. In the final analysis, however, he is closer to Machiavelli in some important respects. First of all, we may suspect that Fukuzawa does not recognize “the demands of justice” as “the highest law” but reduces them to “the requirement of necessity” and particularly those of utility. Even if he holds a firm belief in a common basic morality across cultures, as observed above, this is a matter of private morality, not of public morality, which directly impinges on civilization and politics. Second, in connection with the first point, his theory of civilization gives no standards to judge when a situation ceases to be exceptional and when temporary measures are unnecessary. For example, Fukuzawa ([1901] 1981, 274) holds that patriotism is not a noble principle but “a temporary expedient means” (ichiji no hoben) in the face of the current, imperfect stage of the world, in which the survival of humanity depends solely on competition among countries, “as if the world were the world of sick people.” While recognizing the necessity of struggles for survival among nations, one should bear in mind that it is “a necessary medicine for the sick world.” Here this “sick world,” when supposed to continue indefinitely, becomes normalcy. Third, even if Fukuzawa is aware of the temporary character of credulitybased measures, temporariness changes into permanence when they become part of a regime. Under this regime, citizens and particularly “the ignorant masses” are systematically required to “take bearings by the extreme situation” and to regard the situation as normalcy. Clearly Fukuzawa’s argument for the emperor that utilizes the credulous nature of the people cannot be the very reason for them to be loyal to him. Such a regime reinforces and perpetuates the credulity of the people, far from leading them into skepticism and therefore personal, moral, and intellectual independence. As a result, what Fukuzawa regards as a temporary detour becomes here a permanent deviation. The irony is that although he is fully aware of the temporary nature of the credulity-based measures to secure national independence, these very measures, when fully implemented, reinforce the suppression of skepticism and pluralism and perpetuate

A Straussian perspective on Japanese modernity  175 the current situation of “the sick world.” It is unlikely that Fukuzawa was so myopic that he overlooked this consequence. Since his theory of civilization provides no guidance to overcome “the sick world” in order to make progress towards the perfect stage of civilization, the people are left to live according to the demands of necessity, but not of justice. The above three points jointly suggest that Fukuzawa is closer to the ­Machiavellian than to the Aristotelian type of statesman in using exigency in dealing with exceptional situations. Indeed, this interpretation seems especially apt if we adopt the “necessary detour” argument to make his views of the emperor and of civilization compatible with each other.

Conclusion Fukuzawa undoubtedly belongs to that class of “rugged individuals,” that is, “people who are prepared to stand alone” (WIPP, 38). His actual life as well as his intellectual life is a showcase of non-conformism. His cherished hope was to see pluralism and liberty realized in Japanese society. As the foregoing analysis shows, however, his views on civilization and the emperor are deeply problematic in providing justification for the Meiji regime that traded on the credulity of the people. This is because the Meiji regime, by establishing itself at the price of skepticism and pluralism and by utilizing the credulous nature of the people, ended in a fanatic ultra-nationalism that stressed the virtues of self-sacrifice and self-denial as the acme of loyalty towards the emperor. One might raise an objection that Fukuzawa endorsed neither the price of skepticism and pluralism nor fanatic ultra-nationalism. This might be the case. Yet, here arise questions closely related to those of classical political philosophy. Does the kind of monarchy, as conceived by Fukuzawa, inherently need a person of intellect at the helm of government, a figure who is free from credulity and hence able to find out appropriate means for given purposes? Isn’t what this statesman can do severely limited, when a credulity-induced loyalty pervades society at large and particularly the middle class, the very group that Fukuzawa believes plays a leading role in the making of public opinion? Does he not optimistically suppose that the school founded by him for higher education Keio Gijuku, aimed at being “a fountain of character” and “an exemplary of intellect and morality” apt for gentlemen (Fukuzawa [1896] 1961, 533–534), serves as an effective antidote against the “ignorant masses”? In the face of these questions, one might argue that it is unfair to blame ­Fukuzawa for failing to foresee the danger of ultra-nationalism emerging from within the Meiji regime, because one could realize this only with hindsight.15 To be sure, there is an irreducible element of uncertainty in politics. As Strauss puts it, “What cannot be decided in advance by universal rules, what can be decided in the critical moment by the most competent and most conscientious statesman on the spot, can be made visible as just, in retrospect, to all” (NRH, 161). However, there is nothing in this fundamental condition of politics that runs counter to the need for critical examination. Strauss further claims that

176   Takashi Kibe “the objective d­iscrimination between extreme actions which were just and extreme actions which were unjust is one of the noblest duties of the historian” (ibid.). Strauss’s argument suggests that it is our noble duty to critically examine Fukuzawa from the vantage point of later generations to reflect on ­Japanese modernity. This is the very duty this chapter attempts to fulfill.

Abbreviations GN “German Nihilism,” Interpretation, Vol. 26, 1999: 353–378. JPCM  Jewish Philosophy and the Crisis of Modernity. Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1997. LAM  Liberalism Ancient and Modern. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1995. NRH  Natural Right and History. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1953. RCPR  The Rebirth of Classical Political Rationalism. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1989. TM  Thoughts on Machiavelli. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1958. WIPP “What is Political Philosophy?” in What is Political Philosophy? And Other Studies.Glencoe, IL: Free Press, 1959.

Notes   *I would like to thank Paul Wadden and James Alvey for their valuable suggestions and comments on the previous versions of this chapter.  1 Concerning the ability to bear pain, Strauss refers readers to Ernst Jünger’s essay “Über den Schmerz.” One of the two epigraphs in this essay is from Bushido, the English book on the samurai by a Japanese intellectual, Inazo Nitobe, published in 1900 (Jünger 2002, 145). (Jünger mistakenly cites not “Inazo Nitobé,” but “Inazo Notibé.”) The epigraph reads: Does a little booby cry for any ache? The mother scolds him in this fashion: “What a coward to cry for a trifling pain! What will you do when your arm is cut off in battle? What when you are called upon to commit hara-kiri?’  This story occurs in Nitobe’s account about how military virtues, such as valor, fortitude, bravery, fearlessness, and courage, are taught to young minds (Nitobe 1908, 22).   2 I hereafter cite the English translation (Fukuzawa [1875] 2008), but I do not always follow this, when I find it necessary in the light of the Japanese text (Fukuzawa [1875] 1995). Concerning Fukuzawa’s An Outline of a Theory of Civilization, I benefitted from the following works: Maruyama (1986, 2001); Matsuzawa (1993); Nishimura (2006); Craig (2009).   3 He has been a controversial figure in the scholarly debate. For example, the debate centers around the questions whether he is a royalist or republican, whether he is wholeheartedly imperialist or not. For the controversy, see below n. 14.   4 Fukuzawa follows Buckle’s universalist view on morality. Buckle ([1857] 2011, 164, n. 15) attempts to corroborate the “stationary aspect of moral truths,” by citing Condorcet (“La morale de toutes les nations a été la même”) and Kant (“In der Moralphilosophie sind wir nicht weiter gekommen, als die Alten”). Concerning Fukuzawa’s

A Straussian perspective on Japanese modernity  177 view of personal morality as being identical across the board, see Maruyama (1986, Vol. 2, 165).  5 In a speech in his later years, while proclaiming that nobleness of character is a necessary condition of being a gentleman, Fukuzawa ([1896] 1961, 533) admits that it is extremely difficult to explain what this is.   6 The English translation renders toku as virtue and chi as knowledge. However, I find it preferable to translate the former as morality and the latter as intellect, primarily because Fukuzawa himself explains that in the West toku is called morals and chi is called intellect (OTC, 99).   7 Fukuzawa relied on the English translation (Guizot, General History of Civilization, trans. C. S. Henry. New York: Appleton and Company, 1870).  8 While embracing Buckle’s notion of intellectual progress, Fukuzawa (OTC, 179) does not subscribe to Buckle’s argument on geographical determinism (2011 [1857], 140), which traces the backwardness of India to its geographical features.  9 On the relationship between Fukuzawa’s concept of “wakudeki” and Buckle’s concept of “superstition” and “credulity,” see also Maruyama (2001, ch. 6). 10 See Guizot ([1828] 1985, 77): “dans l’Europe moderne, la diversité des éléments de l’ordre social, l’impossibililté où ils ont été de s’exclure l’un l’autre, ont enfanté la liberté qui règne aujourd’hui.” 11 Fukuzawa’s agnostic and pragmatist stance towards religion embodies Strauss’s characterization of Machiavelli’s stance towards religion: “his praise of religion” is “the reverse side” of “his complete indifference to the truth of religion” (TM, 12). Such a stance is widely shared among his contemporaries, largely due to the social and intellectual tradition of the samurai class (cf. Watanabe 2005 and Koizumi 2002). 12 As for Fukuzawa’s view of feudal loyalty as a main source of patriotism, see Matsuda (2008, 252–253). 13 This kind of argument is typically utilitarian, echoing Mill’s instrumentalist view of government: “Despotism is a legitimate mode of government in dealing with barbarians, provided the end be their improvement, and the means justified by actually effecting that end” (Mill 1993, 79). 14 Related to this problem are the following questions. Was Fukuzawa too optimistic about the course of development the Meiji regime would take (Ito 2011)? Did he not share “serious cynicism” (Watanabe 2005) with his contemporary political elites who crafted a regime endowed with a religious aura in which they did not believe, or in which they believed, even knowing that “it is not true” (Chamberlain 1927, 544)? Is he a republican (Ienaga 1963, 34–36) or just a realist who utilizes everything— including the emperor—for political purposes (Yasukawa 1970, ch. 4)? Instead of delving into these questions, I focus on the question posed above in order to shed light on the temporariness and the uncertainty in politics as a fundamental problem facing Fukuzawa. 15 The fact that his essay “On the Imperial House,” with its explicit partiality for the English model of monarchy, was anathema to pro-Prussian government elites of his day and later criticized in the era of ultra-nationalism (cf. Ogawara 2012, ch. 3) does not demonstrate that his thought is unproblematic.

Bibliography Anzai, Toshimitsu. 2007. Fukuzawa Yukichi to jiyushugi [Yukichi Fukuzawa and Liberalism]. Tokyo: Keio University Press. Bagehot, Walter. [1867] 2001. The English Constitution, P. Smith (ed.). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Buckle, Henry Thomas. [1857] 2011. History of Civilization in England, Vol. 1. ­Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

178  Takashi Kibe Burke, Edmund. [1790] 1982. Reflections on the Revolution in France. London: Penguin Books. Chamberlain, Basil Hall. 1927. “The Invention of a New Religion,” in Things Japanese, 5th ed. London: Kegan Paul, 559–572. Craig, Albert. 2009. Civilization and Enlightenment. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Fukuzawa, Yukichi. [1881] 1960. “Tokukyo no setsu” [“On moral teaching”], in Fukuzawa Yukichi Zenshu, Yukichi Fukuzawa, Chosalu Hensaikai (eds.) Vol. 9. Tokyo: Iwanami, 277–294. Fukuzawa, Yukichi. [1896] 1961. “Kihin no sengen, chitoku no mohan” [“Sources of Character, Intellectual and Moral Models”], in Fukuzawa Yukichi Zenshu [Yukichi Fukuzawa’s Complete Works], Yukichi Fukuzawa, Chosalu Hensaikai (eds.) Vol. 15. Tokyo: Iwanami, 531–534. Fukuzawa, Yukichi. [1899] 1966. The Autobiography of Yukichi Fukuzawa, trans. E. Kiyooka. New York: Columbia University Press. Fukuzawa, Yukichi. [1875–1876] 1981. “Oboegaki” [“Notes”], in Fukuzawa Yukichi Senshu, Yukichi Fukuzawa, Chosalu Hensaikai (eds.) Vol. 12. Tokyo: Iwanami, 5–38. Fukuzawa, Yukichi. [1879] 1981. Minjo isshin [A Transformation of Living Conditions], in Fukuzawa Yukichi Senshu [Yukichi Fukuzawa’s Selected Works], Yukichi Fukuzawa, Chosalu Hensaikai (eds.) Vol. 4. Tokyo: Iwanami, 255–326. Fukuzawa, Yukichi. [1881] 1981. Jiji shogen [Discontents about Current Affairs], in Fukuzawa Yukichi Senshu, Yukichi Fukuzawa, Chosalu Hensaikai (eds.) Vol. 5. Tokyo: Iwanami, 155–314. Fukuzawa, Yukichi. [1882] 1981. Teishitsu ron [On the Imperial House], in Fukuzawa Yukichi Senshu, Yukichi Fukuzawa, Chosalu Hensaikai (eds.) Vol. 6, Tokyo: Iwanami, 31–70. Fukuzawa, Yukichi. [1888] 1981. Sonno ron [On Reverence for the Emperor], in Fukuzawa Yukichi Senshu, Yukichi Fukuzawa, Chosalu Hensaikai (eds.) Vol. 6, Tokyo: Iwanami, 133–164. Fukuzawa, Yukichi. [1897] 1981. Fukuo hyakuwa [One Hundred Stories by the Revered Old Mr. Fukuzawa], in Fukuzawa Yukichi Senshu, Yukichi Fukuzawa, Chosalu Hensaikai (eds.) Vol. 11. Tokyo: Iwanami, 5–244. Fukuzawa, Yukichi. [1892] 1981. Kokkai no zento [The Future of Parliament], in Fukuzawa Yukichi Senshu, Yukichi Fukuzawa, Chosalu Hensaikai (eds.) Vol. 6, Tokyo: Iwanami, 165–209. Fukuzawa, Yukichi. [1901] 1981. Fukuo hyaku yowa [A Sequel to One Hundred Stories by the Revered Old Mr. Fukuzawa], in Fukuzawa Yukichi Senshu, Yukichi Fukuzawa, Chosalu Hensaikai (eds.) Vol. 11. Tokyo: Iwanami, 245–304. Fukuzawa, Yukichi. [1875] 1995, Bunmeiron no gairyaku [An Outline of a Theory of Civilization], ed. H. Matsuzawa. Tokyo: Iwanami. Fukuzawa, Yukichi. [1875] 2008. An Outline of a Theory of Civilization, trans. D. Dilworth and G. Cameron Hurst. New York: Columbia University Press. Fukuzawa, Yukichi. [1872–1876] 2012. An Encouragement of Learning. trans. D. Dilworth. Tokyo: Keio University Press. Guizot, François. 1985 [1828]. Histoire de la civilization en Europe. Paris: Hachette. Ienaga, Saburo. 1963. “Fukuzawa Yukichi no hito to siso” [“Yukichi Fukuzawa’s Life and Thought”], in Fukuzawa Yukichi, I. Saburo (ed.). Tokyo: Chikuma, 7–56. Ito, Yahiko. 2011. Mikansei no ishin kakumei [Uncompleted Restorative Revolution]. Nara: Kizasushobo.

A Straussian perspective on Japanese modernity  179 Jünger, Ernst. 2002. Blätter und Steine, in Sämtliche Werke, Vol. 7, 2nd ed. Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta, 143–191. Karube, Tadashi. 2011. „“Fukuzawa Yukichi niokeru ‘kotoku’” [“Public Morality in Yukichi Fukuzawa”]’, in Fukuzawa Yukichi nenkan [Fukuzawa Yukichi Annals], Vol. 38, 25–35. Koizumi, Takashi. 2002. Fukuzawa Yukichi no shukyo kan [Yukichi Fukuzawa’s View on Religion]. Tokyo: Keio University Press. Maruyama, Masao. 1986. Bunmeiron no gairyaku o yomu [Reading “An Outline of a Theory of Civilization”], 3 vols. Tokyo: Iwanami. Maruyama, Masao. 2001. Fukuzawa Yukichi no tetsugaku [Philosophy of Yukichi Fukuzawa], ed. H. Matsuzawa. Tokyo: Iwanami. Matsuda, Koichiro. 2008. Edo no chisiki kara meiji no seiji e [From the Knowledge of Edo to the Politics of Meiji]. Tokyo: Perikansha. Matsuzawa, Hiroaki. 1993. Kindai nihon no keisei to seiyo taiken [The Formation of Modern Japan and the Experience of the West]. Tokyo: Iwanami. Mill, John Stuart (1993). On Liberty in Utilitarianism, G. Williams (ed.). London: Everyman Library, 69–185. Nishimura, Minoru. 2006. Fukuzawa Yukichi. Nagoya: University of Nagoya Press. Nitobe, Inazo. 1908. Bushido, 13th ed. Tokyo: Teibi Shuppansha. Ogawara, Masamichi. 2012. Fukuzawa Yukichi no seiji shiso [Political Thought of Yukichi Fukuzawa]. Tokyo: Keio University Press. Strauss, Leo. 1953. Natural Right and History. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1958. Thoughts on Machiavelli. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1959. What is Political Philosophy? And Other Studies. Glencoe, IL: Free Press, 1959. Strauss, Leo. 1989. The Rebirth of Classical Political Rationalism. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1995. Liberalism Ancient and Modern. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1997. Jewish Philosophy and the Crisis of Modernity. Albany, NY: SUNY Press. Strauss, Leo. 1999. “German Nihilism,” Interpretation, 26, 353–378. Watanabe, Hiroshi. 2005. “ ‘Kyo’ to inbo” [“ ‘Teaching’ and Intrigue”], in Kankoku, Nihon, ‘West’ [Korea, Japan, ‘West’], edited by Hiroshi Watanabe and Park Choong Seok. Tokyo: Keio University Press, 373–411. Yasukawa, Junosuke. 1970. Nihon kindai kyoiku no shiso kozo [The Intellectual Structure of Education in Modern Japan]. Tokyo: Shinhyoron.

11 Reading Leo Strauss in postmodern East Asia To confront contemporary tyranny Yoshihiko Ishizaki

Introduction―why must we read Leo Strauss in East Asia? Leo Strauss, one of the greatest political philosophers in the twentieth century, hardly discussed Asian political affairs, while he talked chiefly about Western political problems. However, he frequently discussed different kinds of ancient and modern tyranny, especially the tyrannical political phenomena in the t­wentieth century. If we want to learn, then, something about East Asian politics from a Straussian perspective, his teaching on tyranny seems to be most instructive. In East Asia, Oriental despotism has ever been dominant and is still now predominating. While democratization has never yet been completed in East Asian countries, they are stepping into the postmodern world with few or no experiences of liberal democracy. Though Oriental despotism is not identical to the tyranny of Greek origin, contemporary Asian countries seem to have some features corresponding to ancient tyrannical societies. In fact, in contemporary East Asian countries, we find various features of tyranny: despotic, coercive, suppressive, cruel, and harsh and so forth. These features characterizing East Asian countries not only cast a gloomy shadow over the countries, but also occasionally bring about serious risks to spoil the security and peace of the area; especially when they are combined with excessive chauvinism and militarism empowered by technology, they hinder the democratization and safety of this area. Leo Strauss seemed to have two kinds of notions about “modern tyranny” or “present-day tyranny.” One is that which comes into existence as national socialist states, and the other is what will come into existence as postmodern nihilistic states. In his posthumously published writing, he depicts modern tyranny as a political phenomenon which was brought about as a consequence of “the victory of an ever more completely urbanized, ever more completely technological West over the whole planet.”1 This phrase connotes the latter modern tyranny. It is the totalitarian state through the multitude and the power empowered by scientific technology. We find such tyrannical states in national socialism, communism, and so on. But, we, postmodern men, often find such tyranny also in the political order of “the lonely crowds” which “is the unity of the human race on the lowest

Strauss in postmodern East Asia  181 level.” From the fact that we must be caught as fast as ever by the latter type of tyranny, we are still exposed to the new, different kind of tyranny, although liberal democracy had once rejected modern tyranny. Therewith, East Asian nations today are in similar political situations to those of some decades ago. These new types of tyrannical state consist of a few absolute rulers and masses of atomized last men, and its political body is constituted not only from hypermodern factors, but also from premodern and modern factors, and, what is more, they are characterized by the iron rule of a few over the masses. On this account, Strauss’s analysis of tyranny seems to be very suggestive and useful to analyze the contemporary political phenomena of a globalized world and also East Asia. For his analysis of tyranny focuses on the original tyranny, and therefore views tyranny in general. While the crisis of modernity experienced in the first half of the last century was caused by the tyrannical power which was a combined power of multitudes and scientific technology, the present-day crisis in East Asia seems to be caused by a mixture of postmodern techno-scientific factors and premodern factors. The contemporary East Asian crisis is caused by a new type of tyranny, that is, a tyranny nihilistically globalized. Therefore, this kind of tyranny is considered to be a type of the “universal and homogeneous state” named by Alexandre Kojève. It is a final state which consists of factors common to national socialism, communism and late capitalist states. For, whether nationalistic or socialistic, both capitalist and communist states insist on being egalitarian and welfare state. At any rate, in the last stage of modernity, the collapse of liberal democracy brought new tyrannical political states into existence. These states are ordered firmly either by an iron force of violent death under monotonic uniformity or by a screwing force of economic compulsion. In these states, people are made uniform and leveled. Therefore, for the people tortured by these terrible powers in East Asia, we seem to have many things to learn from Strauss’s teaching on tyranny. With the ending of the cold war in the last century, the movement of “modernity” which began with the Enlightenment seems to have come to an end. Therewith the modern age stepped into the postmodern. The September 11th 2001 attacks on liberal democracy by terrorists seemed to be a symbolic incident to notify the coming of postmodernity. We are now stepping into the midst of a chaotically globalized world, and yet confronting mainly two types of tyrannical political power. One is the national pre-capitalistic tyranny and the other is a nihilistic and covertly penetrating totalitarian tyranny. The former is found in not-yet-capitalized and developing countries, and the latter is found in the liberal democratic or sufficiently developed capitalist countries. These consequences had already been foreseen by a few far-sighted philosophers or thinkers like Nietzsche, Heidegger, and others. They had explicitly or implicitly argued about the new tyrannical political order through characterizing those political phenomena in following terms: for example “night of the world,” “the general mobilization system,” “the final state” or “totalitarianism,” and so on, but these terms are only substitute words for new postmodern tyranny such

182  Yoshihiko Ishizaki as Kojève’s “universal and homogeneous state.” I will hereafter refer mainly to the Strauss–Kojève debates because their discussion of the “universal and homogeneous state” seems to be very suggestive to understanding the postmodern tyranny. When Strauss noticed that Hobbes’s political philosophy fails to ask “what is the aim of the State,”2 or noticed that Hobbes was “convinced of the absolutely typical character of mathematical method, according to which one proceeds from self-evident axioms to evident conclusions ‘to the end’ ” (PPH, 153), he must have already perceived that every modern political constitution conceals tyrannical factors within itself. According to Strauss, to say nothing of modern science and technology, even modern liberal democracy contains them. Therefore, the world states or the global societies also might have tyrannical factors. For this reason, Strauss rejects the Kojèvean “universal and homogeneous state.” He concluded that “the universal and homogeneous state is the state of ‘Nietzsche’s last man.’ ”3 In other words, because the end state at which modernity will arrive or has already arrived is the tyrannical state, Strauss has to say that “if the universal and homogeneous state is the goal of History, History is absolutely ‘tragic’ ” (ibid.). In this chapter, I will argue that Strauss’s critique of Kojève would suggest very important insights to us to solve the problems of the postmodern tyranny at issue. For it seems to us that Strauss’s attempt to understand today’s totalitarianism by tracing it back to its original form makes us understand the nature of it. In following sections, consulting Strauss’s critique of the modern scientific and historical frame of reference, I will clarify that modernity, especially modern techno-scientific technology and progressive thought, embrace a mechanism to reproduce tyranny in itself, and therefore both the modern projects founded by modern philosophical thought and attempts, revised by historical thought could not but be wrecked in a deadlock. And I will disclose that Hegel’s historical and dialectical thought would be one of the sources of these defects. And successively, examining Kojève’s interpretation of Hegel, I will infer that the radical historicism after Hegel also paved the way to the degeneration of modern reason. In addition, I will prove that Strauss’s arguments on tyranny could provide us with a path different from the radical historicist’s or Kojève’s. And lastly, I will claim that, in order to solve the political problems in postmodern East Asia where people are lacking in philosophical thinking, we should learn from Strauss’s political philosophy.

On the collapse of modern reason or unfinished enlightenment In this section, I will examine the thesis that Strauss should be appreciated as a critic of Hegel’s historical philosophy. Judging from the Strauss–Kojève debate, Strauss’s political philosophy can be understood as a counterattack on Hegel’s philosophy as interpreted by Kojève at least. Strauss obviously maintains that the origin of radical historicism is in Hegel’s thought of “the end of history” or

Strauss in postmodern East Asia   183 of “the absolute moment” “in which the fundamental riddles have been fully solved.”4 Hegel certainly insisted that “the absolute moment” would come or we would reach the final stage of history, that is “the absolute knowledge” after our experiences through a long historical process. In spite of his suggestion of the absolute moment as the end of history, he could not show that his times were the very absolute moment. For, he could only show it as a moment of his system of “science of logic.” Then, cannot Hegel’s “science of logic” be considered to be a postmodern end state? If it may be considered to be a philosophical system equivalent to Kojève’s universal and homogeneous state as a social system, and if the universal and homogeneous state implies “the states of Nietzsche’s last man” (OT, 208), might we not say that the ultimate stage of Hegel’s dialectical movement indicates the postmodern stage? But, if the last stage of modernity is a mechanical and reified state where people live without individuality and only like sleepwalkers or puppets, then must we conclude that Hegel missed the negative aspects of the completed stage of modernity? In contradistinction to Hegel, Strauss seems to be aware of the incompleteness of modernity. For Strauss assumed that the stage where every ingredient of uncompleted modernity melts into the nihilistic abyss will come soon after the end of modernity. Therefore, I will interpret Strauss as a foreseer of postmodernism. For Strauss, Hegel and Marx are indeed considered to be thinkers who affirm to transform universally natural things into man-made by human knowledge. To complete enlightenment will be to realize the world wherein every natural being is humanized or every natural being is transformed into the man-made thing. That is to say, modernity is a movement to transform all natural things to the things into which man’s self-consciousness puts itself or all of which are spiritualized. The spiritualized world or the world made by human will is able to be taken as a historical world. Therefore, the historical world, that is, man-made world, will become a totalitarian state ruled by one absolute ruler who arrogantly assumes to be legislator. For only a complete man-made political community will be ruled by the will of a single person. Therefore, Hegel’s ethical world and Marx’s proletarian dictatorship both embrace absolute or tyrannical factors which are characterized typically by coercive and compulsory rule. So, from now on, I will interpret Strauss’s philosophical inquiries by careful reading of classical texts as a philosophical attempt to confront Hegel’s and his follower’s historical approach and, in general, that of the modern enlightenment. In short, we can regard him as a philosopher who perceived the defects of the modern project and tried to respond to collapsed modernity. Besides, his philosophical thought presented through commentaries on classical writings can be understood as an alternative to modern science and historical knowledge. The recent studies of some American political thinkers such as Stanley Rosen (cf. 1987), Thomas Pangle (cf. 1992), and Catherine and Michael Zuckert (2006) indeed inherit Strauss’s postmodern perspective. They seem to derive their postmodernism from Strauss’s analysis of the philosophical ideas of Kant, Hegel, Marx, and existential philosophers such as Nietzsche and Heidegger.

184  Yoshihiko Ishizaki From the viewpoint of the abovementioned interpreters, Strauss’s critique of Hegel seems to presuppose the nihilistic thoughts of the radical historicists: Nietzsche and Heidegger. Catherine Zuckert, one of the prominent students of Strauss, had ever told that “by claiming that Strauss is a postmodern thinker, we are claiming, in effect, that his thought ought to be understood as a response to Nietzsche” (Catherine and Michael Zuckert 2006, 83). Our interpretation may be said to follow her observation of postmodernity. But, therewith, I will also claim that Strauss’s response to Nietzsche is accompanied by his critique of Kojève’s extraordinary interpretation of Hegel. Therefore, in this article, I will add that Strauss’s postmodernism stems not only from his critique of Nietzsche, but also from the whole of philosophical thought after the eclipse of Hegel’s philosophical system.

Critique of historicism Hereafter, I will prove that Strauss’s critique of modernity criticizes it as a mechanism which fundamentally makes human beings into members of tyrannical states, and that it gives us any clues to make us surmount our modern predicaments at the same time. The way most effectively to conquer the modern tyranny which Strauss suggests to us seems to be the way to tame tyrants who may be a despot or a multitude through persuasion using the art of speech. For Strauss, Hegel’s struggling and laboring slaves, and the citizens at the market place in Plato’s dialogs are both in fundamental opposition. He prefers Plato to Hegel. Therewith he articulates problems of modernity through comparing it to the ancients and consulting the concepts of classical political philosophy. First, I will make sure the core problems of modern dialectical thought, and, next, more serious problems brought about by it, that is, those of radical historicism. Thereby, I intend to refer to the core thought of Strauss’s Hegel critique as found in his insight into the thought of “the absolute moment” (NRH, 29) in Hegel. The absolute moment in history means the end of history. At that moment, the historical dialectics cannot help but deny the rationality of human knowledge and act because of the immediate unity of eternity and temporality. The difficulty of the historical dialectic is precisely a natural parent of postmodern tyranny. At the same time, Strauss’s critique of the modern tyranny also has significance as the “radical historicism” critique because the tyranny of our age is an appearance of “nihilism” predicted by existential philosophy, and Strauss’s clue to solve the problems seems to be derived from the critical analysis of Hegel’s dialectical thought through Kojève’s interpretation. So, hereafter, I will read Strauss’s writings as a response to Hegelian historical philosophy and to Nietzschean and Heideggerian radical historicism. According to Stanley Rosen, there are three conceptions of freedom in ­Kantian philosophy: political freedom, moral freedom, and freedom of spontaneity (1987, 24). Hitherto, the third conception of freedom has only been tacitly referred to by a few interpreters, but it would be the most important and

Strauss in postmodern East Asia  185 p­ roblematic concept of freedom. It is said to be “the freedom to choose or reject the Copernican revolution” (ibid., 24). Thereupon I will diagnose that the Kantian philosophy stands or falls on the decision whether to choose it or not, that is, a decisional choice. In other words, Kantian critical reason is necessarily accompanied by an “anxiety of reason” despite its daring. Under the foundation of Hegelian historical philosophy and Nietzschean and Heideggerian radical historicism which Strauss intends to confront, lies this Kantian anxiety. What is true for Kant goes for almost all modern philosophers. It means the thoughts of these thinkers may be characterized with the words “suppositum” or “the philosophy of As-If.” If that is the case, the third Kantian concept of freedom is an expression of the thought that human freedom is realized by transforming natural things into artificial or historical things. Thus, the concept of “revolution” changes itself from a heavenly concept to a human concept. At the same time, its meaning also changes from that by natural necessity to that by human decision or human will. Accompanied with that change, the notion of history comes to play a major role in human knowledge and brings about the splitting of the understanding from reason. In consequence, Kantian critical philosophy leaves the antinomies of modern reason unsolved and inevitably cannot help leaving room for the irrational: the modern tyranny or totalitarianism. Modern rationalism, indeed, teaches us that human beings will come to know exhaustively everything in the universe through cultivating human understanding, but it means nothing other than the conquering of nature by human power. According to Strauss, it is caused by the geometric or mechanical origin of modern understanding or reason. Therefore, when such understanding or reason comes to be the prevailing principle, the whole became knowable, but every natural and spiritual thing could not help becoming things made by the human mind or will, and therewith, we know all things exhaustively as human products. Thus, our knowledge becomes the knowledge about the things made by ourselves. Modern men thus succeeded in lowering the standard of our knowledge. At the same time, our knowledge comes to be uncertain or insufficient. For lowering the standard is to abstract from the valuable and noble and so on. The cause of the rejection of natural right that Strauss discerned in the modern social sciences is in the lowering of the standards by modern men. Therefore, he stated that the rejection of natural right “is identical with nihilism” (NRH, 5). Strauss discovers the origin of this tendency in Spinoza’s solution of the Jewish problem, more generally in the modern solution of the problem of reason and revelation. Strauss adds that Spinoza’s solution of this problem is only a solution resting “on an unevident decision, on an act of the will, just as faith.”5 However, what he found in Spinoza was not only a problem peculiar to Spinoza, but also applying to modern philosophers in general. Strauss formulates those problems as follows: The underlying idea … is that all truths, or all meanings, all order, all beauty, originate in the thinking subject, in human thought, in man. Some

186   Yoshihiko Ishizaki famous formulations: “We know only what we make”—Hobbes. “Understanding prescribes nature its laws”—Kant. “I have Discovered a spontaneity, little known previously, of the monads of the thoughts”—Leibniz. (RCPR, 243f) Strauss seemed to have found the same principle as Giambatista Vico. In fact, he finds Vico’s thesis: “verum (the true) and factum (what is the made) are interchangeable (or convertible)” in the ideas of modern philosophers.6 Strauss did not refer explicitly to Vico. But he had implicitly suggested the importance of that thesis through mentioning his name and his book, The New Science, in the “preface to the 7th impression (1971)” of his Natural Right and History (NRH, vii). At any rate, that fact, for Strauss, makes us guess that the convertibility of the truth and man-made things is the most crucial and essential problem of modernity. In the last analysis, it is concerned with the philosophical problem of beings. This change of the notion of being brought about the conversion of the foundation not only of science, but also of the modern political order. It is true, therewith, natural rights and natural laws are lowered in their dignity. However, since we cannot create every natural thing and cannot control the whole of natural things, we must be satisfied with knowing the laws of natural things and giving laws to moral things. Consequently, our genuine knowledge of the natural and moral worlds degenerates into technological and sociological knowledge of human groups or societies. However, since such knowledge cannot help abstracting from moral value, human action guided by value judgments comes to the action by human will which sometimes becomes blind decision. Thus, modern rationalism cannot get rid of its tyrannical disposition. On the contrary, it aggravates such an inclination. Therefore, the emergence of tyranny or totalitarianism in our time is a consequence of modern projects. In short, the collapse and crisis of modern human rights are caused by confusing the natural with the man-made. By this confusion, ultimately, neither divine nor natural but men’s will or men’s predictions becomes a foundation of modern human rights, that is, a criterion of justice. On that account, perhaps Kant may have been the first modern thinker who became aware of the limits of modern reason because he noticed the antinomies of human reason. Succeeding to Kant, Hegel also attempted to solve the antinomies by the “philosophy of history.” Although his attempt to change necessity to freedom or finiteness to infiniteness intended indeed to surmount Kantian antinomy, but it was actually no longer that whose possibility was made higher by lowering of the goal. Therefore, when Hegel’s attempt to realize the ethical state was taken over by Marx, the realm of freedom had become a monstrous state. The modern project originated with the oblivion of nature and led us to the destruction of the environmental natural world and the nature of human beings, and then, it brings about a homogeneous state of the unconsciously squirming last men ruled by a vacant or absolute ruler.

Strauss in postmodern East Asia  187

Absolute knowledge and infinite judgment There is no doubt that modern reason is the source of the crisis of modernity. So, hereafter, I will explain why modern reason cannot help coming to face an unprecedented crisis. Therefore, in this section, I will give a glance at the problems of Hegel’s theory of self-consciousness and mutual recognition. When we pay attention to the movement of self-consciousness which is about to go into the struggle for recognition, we will realize that self-consciousness participates in an act of judgment: it makes a choice whether to go into the struggle or not. An ability to judge is ascribed to reason, and yet it is entirely different from the ability of reasoning. As well as in Kantian critical philosophy, judgment is also the important element for Hegel. Therefore, his movement of consciousness or self-consciousness starts from the conflict of “this” and “notion” or “Master” and “Slave.” In short, the principle of consciousness and self-consciousness is “judgment,” and it is necessarily replaced with ‘reasoning’ in their movement. In the Master-Slave dialectic, the slavish consciousness chooses to survive rather than die for fear of death. But there is a sign of reasoning in this choice. For the Slave chooses his life, not to say through deliberation, but through an attachment to life. The choice of life comes from the primitive reasoning by the Slave who could not gamble his life. The fact that the “reasoning” of the chapter in self-consciousness begins with the choice in the “struggle for recognition” by the Slave explains that Hegel’s historical reason is akin to observing reason rather than communicative reason. Hegelian historical reason is evidently represented by the reason of slavish self-consciousness, and it determines the character of his ethical world as a community of mutually recognizing persons. But, in his ethical world each spiritual substance has to be subjectified, but subjectification of every substance is very difficult or rather impossible. For, if the negation by self-consciousness is definite negation, the whole substance cannot be negated absolutely because of its definiteness. Therefore, the definite negation will need to leap up to infinitude to attain absolute negativity. Because of this necessity of leaping up to the absolute level, Hegel’s “reasoning” dialectic cannot help remaining incomplete. The historical reason leaves room for the irrational. Therefore, difficulties are hiding in Hegel’s dialectic and from those difficulties the modern tyrannical polity will come into being. In a word, on account of these difficulties, Hegel’s ethical world and ethical freedom cannot be realized. Because of this incompleteness of reasoning, ethical freedom is impossible. We must observe these difficulties in Hegel’s dialectic in a little more detail. The master-slave dialectic in Phenomenology of Mind consists of following two kinds of combined reasoning formula: (1) master-slave-thing and (2) masterthing-slave. In these two types of master-slave relation, both extremes are related by the mean terms: the former by “thing” and the latter by “slave.” Both extremes which are mediated by the mean term are syllogistically related. Hegel’s historical reason depends on the movement of mediation by the mean

188  Yoshihiko Ishizaki terms in the relations, that is, what is mediated is rational. Hegel doubtless intends to transcend Kant’s critical philosophy by means of the logic of mediation. Yet, his syllogistic reasoning cannot help coming up against the limits of reason. For the negation performed by self-consciousness is accompanied by limits; it fails to eliminate the solidity of the mean terms. As to the former formula, the slave cannot eliminate the selfish or egoistic character, and, as to the latter, the slave cannot eliminate the thing’s rigidity or harshness exhaustively. In a word, the slavish self-consciousness can neither cultivate thoroughly his ego nor eliminate the objectivity of the things. At any rate, the uniting of both terms by reasoning is in incomplete. Hegel’s “conscience” or “absolute knowledge” could not successfully go beyond the political predicaments and moral confusions after the French Revolution. In spite of Hegel’s intention to avoid “the absolute freedom and terror,” his “conscience” or “absolute knowledge” cannot attain its aim without the logic of “the infinite judgment” which is the principle of absolute freedom of the French Revolution. After all, Hegel’s dialectical solution of political conflicts cannot help ending in failure. For the solution of the problems of modern rationalism or modern freedom by historical dialectics has fundamental defects inherent in modern reason. I will, hereafter, take the historicist thoughts after Hegel into consideration and prove that the logic of Strauss’s classical dialectic supersedes them. And I will argue that it helps us to go beyond the difficulty of modernity. Hegel’s dialectic has, in fact, the fault not to be able to realize the circulating movement of reasoning without leaping up to infiniteness. Strauss called this moment the absolute moment “in which philosophy, or quest for wisdom, has been transformed into knowledge” (NRH, 29). This moment ‘provides a denial of the possibility of theoretical metaphysics and of philosophic ethics or natural right’ (ibid.). Moreover this framework of knowledge came to drive “the most radical historicists to submit to, or rather to welcome, as a dispensation of fate.”7 The postmodern totalitarian or tyrannical political state. Needless to say, that state is a consequence of progressive and historicist thought. According to historical thought, human beings will become more powerful assisted by modern scientific technology and attain affluence and equality. Yet, for the human powers and rights which are the results of scientific technology and the thought of progress are provided by the lowered will to power and by the thought of the “unity of the human race on the lowest level” (RCPR, 42). They lead modern men into the tyrannical or despotic political order. Historical philosophers seem to understand history as a movement to replace the substantive by the subjective, or as an attempt to replace the natural by the historical or the man-made; its success, however, standing or falling on lowering the goal or the standards. But, the lowering of standards involves risks of reproducing the inhuman or the subhuman. The reversal of Rousseau’s general will to the terror of the absolute freedom of Jacobinism is an example of such a

Strauss in postmodern East Asia  189 ­reproduction of the inhuman. The degeneration of enlightenment into obscurantism is a consequence of that lowering. As we have observed above, the modern project leads us to nihilism. And nihilism is a result of the rejection of God. If postmodern tyranny is a form of nihilism, it is a result of the “death of God.” By the way, Hegel was the philosopher who talked about the death of God for the first time8 and Nietzsche was the first philosopher who proclaimed that “God had died.” Therefore, if Strauss’s critique of tyranny should indicate postmodern politics, his critique must be understood not only as his response to Hegel, but also to Nietzsche, and besides, it should be understood as a response to modern enlightenment in general. Therefore, our reading of Strauss’s postmodern thought must necessarily be performed taking into consideration his debate with Kojève, because Kojève is an extraordinary interpreter of Hegel as well as a pioneer who argued with Strauss about the postmodern.9

The end of philosophy and the unfinished “realm of freedom” I have so far argued that modern tyranny is a result of the degeneration of enlightenment into obscurantism. When this degeneration of modern rationalism has reached its limit, modern tyranny inevitably comes into being. It is evidently tragic that belief in progress and the realization of infinity by definite negation must be betrayed by history. At any rate, we must find such a betrayal of history in Marx’s and his followers’ thought or in the existential philosophers’ thought. Hegel attempts to describe beings in general and the ethical reality of human beings in particular with the circles of a set of a triad formula of reasoning both of whose poles are united by a medium of each reasoning formula, for example, Einzelheit (individuality)—Besonderheit (particularity)—Allgemeinheit (universality) (hereafter this formula is transcribed as E–B–A), A–E–B and B–A–E.10 Marx also describes the movement of capitalist society with two kinds of schemata: Ware (goods)—Geld (money)—Ware (goods) (W–G–W) and moneygoods-money (G–W–G). When we compare a set of Hegel’s triad formulas with a couple of Marx’s formulas, we will find that the circulation of speech or logos in Hegel’s Logic is transformed into the reified circulation of goods. So, we must remark that the circulation of goods in capitalist society is expressed by two formulas and therefore is in contradistinction to that of Hegel’s ethical world. Through Marx the third formula is missing. That means capitalists and laborers are never mediated. There remain societies monotonously reified or a society in which remain the two opposing and struggling classes. Therefore, however that struggle may end, in any case, there remains a cold unity which leads human beings to a monotonous deathlike peace. At any rate, neither capitalist societies nor communist societies are able to make unnecessary or abolish the mean terms (G, W) of the two formulas: W–G–W and G–W–G. In a word, the reification of modern societies cannot be removed by the principles of modernity.

190  Yoshihiko Ishizaki In order to transcend these difficulties, Alexandre Kojève introduced the concept of the “universal and homogeneous state.” It is, as it were, a kind of state, in which, after the reification has been dissolved, the freedom and equality will be realized. To the contrary, Strauss insisted that the “final state,” at which Kojève aimed, would be “the state of Nietzsche’s last man.” Strauss even calls that realm of freedom “the earth of ‘the last man,’ of the one herd without the shepherd” (RCPR, 21). Hegel’s last stage of unity characterized by the “I that is We” and “We that is I” with logos, which is the model of Kojève’s final state, is realized by a logic of infinite judgment which combines immediately subject with predicate. Therefore, if that unity is brought about through such irrational judgment, it will include something unreasonable in itself. If so, the solution itself will be only irrational. On account of the faults of modern reason, we are indispensably compelled to revive tyrannical polity in our life world with pursuit of freedom and equality. The tyranny revived in our times is caused by modern men’s oblivion to or evasion of philosophical thinking. Therefore, this totalitarian or tyrannical polity is a tyranny supported by scientific thought and scientific technology. In the following sections, consulting the Strauss–Kojève debate, some problems of this postmodern tyranny will be questioned.

Return to animality or man’s animalization When we talk about postmodern tyranny, what we imply by it is not only a totalitarian or tyrannical polity, but also a nihilistic or technologized social order. Our image of that tyranny comes from Kojève’s argument for a universal and homogeneous state and Strauss’s critique of it. The thought of these two late modern thinkers seems to have anticipated the coming of the technologized and globalized postmodern world. The arguments of Strauss and Kojève seem to have a long-reach range and fix their eyes upon the future. For example, when Kojève talked about “the end of History” or “disappearance of Man,” to be sure, he talked about them “not as a prospect for the future” but as an affair of “a present, here and now,”11 therefore, the present in his notion meant the last stage of the modern or the postmodern. But, taking notice of the fact that he had ever talked about “Man’s return to animality” (ibid., 161n) or man’s animalization different from that in the post-historical state, we obviously see that he was already arguing about the postmodern world state. And, when Strauss argued about Nietzsche’s “last man,” his argument also seems obviously to point to the postmodern. They assumed together that a return to animality or man’s animalization would be brought about in socialist and capitalist societies. Therefore, we might say both societies prompt a return to the animal by human beings, and both bring about the super-human and the pre-human. Besides, it must be remarked that later Kojève came to consider that America would be a kind of communist society. When Kojève took up the Stalinist communist state as a model of the universal and homogeneous state, America was the leading state of anti-communism. After

Strauss in postmodern East Asia  191 his acceptance of Strauss’s critique in “Restatement” in the French edition of On Tyranny in 1954, he seemed to change his standpoint concerning communism. For Kojève, at any rate, America was a kind of communism. As we will find in following Strauss’s expression, he also depicted America after World War II as a state where people are “acting according to the principle ‘from everyone according to his capacity and to everyone according to his merits’ ” (NRH, 148), and yet, where people have “no leisure, no concentration, no elevation, no withdrawal.” For him, too, America is a state where there is “nothing but work and recreation,” and it is a “lonely crowd” (cf. RCPR, 42): America has already become a kind of universal and homogeneous state. If so, the American people are neither natural nor animalized human beings. Instead, they are either automata or nonhuman beings. In Kojève’s letter to Strauss,12 he says that “ ‘not human’ can mean ‘animal’ (or better—automaton) as well as ‘God’ (OT, 255).” For Strauss as well as Kojève, “not human” beings equivalent to God mean automatous beings; we also call such human beings postmodern men. If so, despite the American people as understood by Kojève being not natural, but historical or man-made, Kojève himself seems to assume that post-historical human beings are identical with the natural or animal beings in a pre-historical state. In fact, judging from his reference to “a Chinese peasant’s animal-like starvation-existence” (OT, 262), the residents of Kojève’s universal and homogeneous state will evidently be not only animalized human beings, but also humanized human beings. Besides, they may be even human beings like God or human beings like a philosopher, even though they return to animal beings or become something like a machine (cf. OT, 255). As we saw in the former section, Strauss conceived Kojève’s universal and homogeneous state as “the state of Nietzsche’s last man” (OT, 208). He continues: “Kojève in fact confirms the classical view that unlimited technological progress and its accompaniment, which are indispensable condition of universal and homogeneous state, are destructive of humanity” (ibid.). Despite Strauss’s critique, Kojève approves the universal and homogeneous state. For Kojève, the universal and homogeneous state is fated to come and therefore “man can reasonably be satisfied with it” (ibid.). Contrary to Kojève, Strauss insists on the necessity of thinking and knowing. For Strauss, “perhaps it is not war or work but thinking that constitutes the humanity of man” (OT, 209), and “perhaps it is not recognition … but wisdom that is the end of man” (OT, 209f). He concludes that “the coming of the universal and homogeneous state will be the end of philosophy on earth” (OT, 211). Kojève responds to the Strauss’s critique as follows: the “healthy automata are satisfied with” sports, art, eroticism, and, on the contrary, the sick automata “get locked up” (OT, 255). And he adds philosophers who are not satisfied with purposeless activity can also attain wisdom through their contemplation, and, “by doing so, they become ‘gods’ ” (cf. ibid.). Insofar as Kojève can retain room for philosophy, he seems to have tided himself over Strauss’s critique. Yet, some years later, when he visited Japan, he recognized the post-historical world in the Japanese early modern age. There were predecessors of Nietzsche’s last

192  Yoshihiko Ishizaki man for whom it is troublesome to rule and to obey. In Japan, there had been an apolitical state, in which “Homo sapiens … will be content as a result of their artistic, erotic and playful behavior, inasmuch as, by definition, they will be contented with it” (Kojève 1980, 159). In 1968, when Kojève published the second edition of his Introduction à la lecture de Hegel, he added to note no. 6 of the first edition a few sentences titled “Note to the Second Edition.” In the additional sentences of this note, for the first time, Kojève describes that a “classless society,” in other words, a communist society, was attained in the United States. He insists that one can even say that … the United States has already attained the final stage of Marxist communism, seeing that, practically, all members of a “classless society” can from now on appropriate for themselves everything that seems good to them, without thereby working any more than their heart dictates. (Kojève 1980, 161n) And he concludes that the “American way of life” was the type of life specific to the post-­ historical period, the actual presence of the United States in the World prefiguring the “eternal present” future of all of humanity. Thus, Man’s return to animality appeared no longer as a possibility that was yet to come, but as a certainty that was already present. (Ibid.) Kojève accepted Strauss’s critique and began to talk about the postmodern way of life. It is identified with pre-human or animalized life. A way of life which he found in America or Japan is identical with what Nietzsche and Strauss found in the end state. If the end state identified by Kojève in America or Japan is the last man’s state and America where Strauss lives and philosophizes for the time being would also be the postmodern state, liberal democratic states where the “lonely crowd” lives must be ruled by a single powerful hangman or the multitude. Thus, we come to understand the fundamental issue of the Strauss–Kojève debate. It concerns the postmodern tyranny. Kojève did not always admit Strauss’s critique completely. He accepts the thesis that, in the last state, there is no philosophy indeed, but he rejects the thesis that “it is impossible that all human beings should ever become actually satisfied” (OT, 210) there. Kojève did not think that philosophical thinking can solve the problems of history. Contrary to Kojève, according to Strauss, the philosophizing life is the highest good life and, therefore, the happiest life. But, even if every man could be a potential philosopher, every human being cannot always be philosopher, nor can he philosophize. If every human being cannot philosophize, we cannot help giving up every man’s satisfaction in the

Strauss in postmodern East Asia   193 universal and homogeneous state. For, while men’s desire might indeed be satisfied with the products of technology, the joy of philosophizing and living together cannot be satisfied without philosophizing. Therefore, Strauss is obliged to make reference to destroying humanity by rejection of philosophizing. Therefore, he adds the following words: “as soon as they have arrived at the end of their journey, they realize that through arriving at it they have destroyed their humanity and thus returned, as in a cycle, to the pre-human beginning of History” (OT, 209). Philosophizing or the quest for wisdom is nothing other than the very humanity of human beings. So, to give up philosophizing means to give up being human; therefore, to return to the pre-human. It means the coming of a new natural condition. Differing from Hobbes’s condition of war, Locke’s state governed by a law of nature, the reified condition of laborers in capitalist society, this new natural condition, if anything, might be a condition ruled by the primarily tyrannical power or the completely reified power: it is either in the state under the iron rule of a despotic tyrant or else in the anomic or anarchic state. Therefore, every member of the state is usually frightened by coercive power or by the hostility of his enemies. On this account, Strauss had to recognize in that state “a planetary Oriental despotism” (cf. OT, 207f). We have observed so far that the modernity prepares for the tyrannical state and that the “universal and homogeneous state” is such a kind of postmodern state. Such a state defined by the term of postmodern tyranny can be said to have both an occidental-origin and an oriental-origin character. We are nowadays in the midst of a globalized world in which both ingredients are melded together. And, above all, we inhabitants in East Asia live in such a last state as a postmodern as well as an oriental despotic state. That state is ruled by one dictatorial man or by some privileged shepherds of human herds. As we will see in the next section, Strauss seems to have clued us to solve the problems in the state ruled by the “Universal and Last Tyrant.”

The postmodern tyranny and oriental despotism––upon the Strauss–Kojève debate The postmodern tyranny with which we are gripped nowadays will be a universalized or globalized state or a state ruled by one or a few dictators. The dictator of that state carries in his hands the absolute power provided by scientific technology. Strauss and Kojève, indeed, might have not always directly experienced such a tyranny for themselves. Yet, it is useful and necessary to introduce their concepts to understand the contemporary world. The globalized, universalized, and perfectly homogenized world, wherein we are forced to spend a meaninglessly nihilistic life, neither simply belongs to the modern nor the postmodern, neither the Western nor the Eastern world. It belongs to the world in which such different kinds of factors are amalgamated. Therefore, if we find it necessary to suspect the worldwide development of modernization, it seems for us to be necessary to turn our eyes to the eastern factors.

194  Yoshihiko Ishizaki To be sure, Marx referred to the Asiatic mode of production, Nietzsche to Indian, Persian, Muslim esotericism,13 and the “new Buddhism”14 and so on, Heidegger to “learning from the East” (RCPR, 43), and to the meeting of the West and East, and Kojève to “Japanese snobbery” (Kojève 1980, 161f). Their references to the Asiatic or the Eastern were caused by their anxiety about modernity and for the future of the West. The Eastern factors are foreign to and missing from the Western. And, at the same time, they include premodern factors and, in some respects, postmodern as well. Therefore, they may be a new type of anti-modern. So it is no wonder that Marx’s dictator could be replaced with a Chinese Emperor or a Russian Czar, Nietzsche’s superman and last man with an Islamic Sultan or a Japanese Shogun, and Heidegger’s Das Man or a crowd in Calcutta or slum people in every megalopolis all over the world, and Kojève’s “administrator, a cog in a ‘machine’ ” (OT, 255), with mandarins or bureaucrats. At any rate, when we think about postmodern tyranny, these Eastern principals and multitudes depicted by E ­ uropean thinkers with whom Strauss confronted provide us with different kinds of materials. Thus, in order to understand this, it becomes necessary for us to grasp the role of non-European factors in deciding our postmodern times. At any rate, confronting the postmodern tyranny, we should take into consideration some kinds of oriental despotic political factors. Then, Strauss’s political philosophy provides us with the most important perspective because his insight into tyranny was reached through confronting these thinkers who turned their perspective toward some cultural and political factors in East Asia. By the way, in East Asia, the liberal democracy of Greek origin has scarcely been developed. Throughout the Asian world, various despotic or tyrannical political regimes had come into being, and still now exist, and are developing. The dominance of despotic political regimes and the delay of democratization in Asia are now not only a peculiarity of this area, but also a general character of the postmodern world. And the political factors identified in the Eastern world in general—coercion, suppression, persecution, and so forth—seem to be manifestations of the postmodern political phenomena. In the East Asian postmodern world, these political phenomena generally exist, not always through open and merciless ways, but also through the way of the carrot and stick. In the Asian region, there are various states today: some are totalitarian and tyrannical states, others communist states. Although the worldwide drift was to democratization after the end of cold war, openly tyrannical or despotic states still prevail, especially in East Asia. This would be an anticipation of the postmodern phenomena. Therefore, however Asian countries might be liberalized, a true realization of liberal democracy will be not easy or even possible. It is not too much to say that, the most typical totalitarian countries such as North Korea aside, even the most democratized countries in East Asia such as Japan and South Korea cannot eradicate irrational spiritual factors. That is, even though in the most democratized East Asian countries, irrational traditional and spiritual factors like Zen Buddhism, Taoism, or Confucianism and so on continue to

Strauss in postmodern East Asia  195 remain as ever; nevertheless, each East Asian country is stepping into the postmodern through embracing despotic and scientific technological factors. At any rate, we inhabitants of East Asian countries are now living in the stage after the end of history. If tyrannical rule in the postmodern is characterized by rule without laws and human thinking, we inhabitants in East Asia are more and more falling into the lawless and thoughtless condition. In fact, in East Asia, infringements of laws and rights on the one hand and the lack of human spirits on the other advance more and more. As it were, East Asian people are more and more led into the postmodern last men’s world. They are either spiritless, apathetic, and petrified nonhuman beings or voluptuous human beings subject solely to the laws of erotic or philistine desire (NRH, 49). The postmodern men of East Asia are the masters of perpetual and restless desires for ease after ease and, at the same time, the slaves of such desires. When we remember that following Strauss’s statements e declared in his “Restatement” citing Kojève’s writing: “History had come to its end. There is nothing more to do” (OT, 208), might we not infer that the Strauss–Kojève correspondence alluded to this new type of tyranny? The end state is the very postmodern state, or, at the same time, the “last men’s” state. The state discussed in their debate is, in fact, a postmodern state. Therefore, if we intend to discuss the problems of the postmodern East Asian tyranny, we must learn from their debate. The Strauss–Kojève debate presupposes the critique of historical materialism and radical historicism. Especially their arguments on the critique of Nietzsche’s and Heidegger’s existential thought which obliterates the notion of eternity. The re-emergence of tyranny in our time is a consequence of the obliteration of eternity caused by modern value-free science and historicist relativizing. Strauss’s critique of radical historicism entails not only the critique of modern intellect in general but also the existential rejection of modern rationality. The radical historicists or existential philosophers criticized modern rationality and the universal equality founded upon it. Thereby they rejected not only modern rationality but also rationality itself.

What should we learn from Strauss’s political philosophy? To confront the difficulties of modernity and in prospect the postmodern, Strauss quested for a different approach from that of these thinkers in question. For the time being, Strauss’s political philosophy was taken by us simply as a critique of modernity, but now his quest must be taken not only as a critique of modern projects, but also of the postmodern. For Strauss seems to provide an intellectual paradigm substituting for the modern scientific and historical paradigm. The core points of Strauss’s political philosophy from which we should learn for our inquiry might be summarized in the following three points. First, his philosophical reason is conditioned by the dialogue consisting of fundamentally two opposing terms. It is brought about by his return to the original dialectics. In this intellectual paradigm change, the denial of the political

196   Yoshihiko Ishizaki by modernity was converted to its approval, or the political has been rehabilitated. By his return to the ancient, the coexistence of two opposing opinions through their debate becomes possible. The political coexistence of plural political powers takes the place of their synthesis through reconciliation. The political coexistence of both powers leaves an antagonism, but nevertheless, it realizes a dialogical relation to each other thorough debate. The political things amount exactly to what embraces contradiction in it and, at the same time, what maintains self-identification. And thus, Strauss’s dialectical relation indicates the prototypical model of the human in the political world. We find that model in the relation of Hiero and Simonides in Xenophon’s Hiero or of Thrasymachus and Socrates in Plato’s Republic or of Strauss and Kojève in On Tyranny and their correspondence. Their controversial dialogue doesn’t get to reconciliation, but between them a relation like friendship is to grow. It will be the logic, in a sense, to get ourselves out of postmodern tyranny. In short, it provides us a path to cross over the nihilism in our age. Second, we should learn from his teaching about esoteric writing and careful reading, which makes it possible for us to communicate with the earlier great authors. The spiritual association with earlier great minds makes it possible to cultivate various kinds of virtue such as moderation or magnanimity. These virtues are those not only of philosophers, but also of statesmen. By his teaching, a liberal education cultivates these virtues, and therewith provides us a clue to overcome modern rationalism. The intellectual training through dialogs with ancient and modern philosophers or authors seems to be useful to confront the tyranny in our age. For, it is necessary to recover the standard of men’s action lowered for “man’s conquest of nature for the sake of the relief of man’s estate” (LAM, 225). To lower the standard leads us to denial of our aim or purpose, but it means to deny what is the end or the ideal lifted onto the higher plane. Modernity stands or falls by the lowering of our goal. It is identical with the preference for freedom to virtue by the moderns. That anticipation of freedom to virtue was realized by replacing an honorable or victorious life with the fear of violent death or attachment to life. In contradistinction to this, Strauss’s political philosophy claims to rehabilitate the virtue of “moderation.” The virtue restored by Strauss is a synthesized virtue of the moral of laborers or citizens (bourgeois) such as diligence or honesty and the virtues of the ancients such as liberality or magnanimity. A liberal education cultivates those virtues. In Plato’s Republic, “moderation” has two meanings: one is the virtue for the money-making class, and the other is that which is necessitated for unanimity or accord and makes “a certain kind of order and mastery of a certain kind of pleasures and desires.”15 Strauss’s concept of moderation seems to synthesize the abovementioned two implications of Plato’s sophrosyne: “industrious” as the Weberian “Protestant ethos” on the one hand and “liberal” on the other hand. It implies a self-restraining virtue to make accordance and harmony in citizens. The virtue of “moderation” claimed by Strauss seems to be exactly necessitated for our East Asian in the coming age. Third, last but not least, we must refer to the connotation of “the knowledge of heterogeneity” which is contrasted with “the knowledge of homogeneity.”

Strauss in postmodern East Asia  197 The latter developed modern scientific technology as well as modern tyranny. In contrast to modern liberalism, Strauss attempted to rehabilitate the former knowledge or to synthesize both forms of knowledge. Strauss seems to show a different sort of the Dionysian principle from Nietzsche’s. When Nietzsche had contraposed the Dionysian principle to the Apollonian, he rejected every ­Apollonian factor in the Socratic dialectic. Yet, the dialogical dialectic necessitates the knowledge of heterogeneity just as Socrates necessitates it in his quest for knowledge of the whole. As we know, some characters in Plato’s Republic, for example, Thrasymachus, Adeimantus, and Glaucon, are dialectical characters who voice half-truths or opinions on the whole. However, at the same time, their opinions function to raise Socratic knowledge up to the true knowledge. They occupy peculiar places in the whole argument. Such knowledge as Strauss learned from Socratic or Platonic dialectics is to be the knowledge of “noetic heterogeneity” (RCPR, 132) or the “knowledge of heterogeneity” (Strauss 1959, 39). The knowledge of the whole is the knowledge of the political philosophy and the knowledge which has a possibility to go beyond the knowledge of scientific technology upon the homogeneous knowledge. At any rate, the knowledge of heterogeneity which is the erotic quest is the knowledge which leads us beyond the postmodern. By the way, the logos of the knowledge of noetic heterogeneity must be a logos concerning human things. It must be a political or practical logos distinguished from that of so-called philosophy or the “unerotic and amusic” (RCPR, 134) science which lacks self-knowledge. Strauss refers to a Dionysian or erotic logos in the context not of Socratic speech in Plato’s Republic, but of the Athenian’s speech in his Laws. Therefore, Strauss’s Dionysian, we can say, is not realized in the context where younger generations strive for honor or glory, but where the men with “an air of senility” (Strauss 1959, 49) deliberate their political life and the regime of their society. The knowledge of heterogeneity and the virtue of moderation are the core concepts Strauss learned from the Socratic ­dialectic through struggling with Nietzsche. They will probably suggest to us paths toward a future politics.

Conclusion Strauss was afraid lest philosophy disappear in the universal and homogeneous state. And, indeed, we inhabitants in East Asia are in such a philosophy-loss state. In East Asia seemingly various kinds of political regime exist: the liberal democratic state, the traditional eastern despotic empire, the universal and homogeneous state, and so on. But it will be proper to say that almost all of them constitutionally have a despotic or tyrannical character at the bottom. Therefore, however East Asian people might appear to live freely and equally at a glance, they live under an absolute or coercive rule and in a discriminative and fanatic society. As a result, we can say, not to speak of the inhabitants of East Asian communist states, all of our East Asian people are living in postmodern tyranny.

198  Yoshihiko Ishizaki Through replacing Nietzsche’s Dionysian with own Dionysian, Strauss attempted to recover the principle by which postmodern men escape their predicaments. As to the tyrannical conclusion of modern projects, Nietzsche had already foreseen its dangerous results and Heidegger also had suggested its dangerous character with the word Ge-stell (cf. Heidegger 1962). Strauss’s Dionysian seems to be a reply to Nietzsche’s and Heidegger’s foresight of these dangerous results. As to the censuring of Nietzsche for his responsibility for fascism, Strauss had ever told us: “he is as little responsible for fascism as Rousseau is responsible for Jacobinism. This means, however, that he is as much responsible for fascism as Rousseau was for Jacobinism” (Strauss 1975, 98). From these words, we can grasp the implication of Strauss’s Dionysian. The classical virtue of moderation and the knowledge of heterogeneity which his Dionysian presents us with are the principles which lead us inhabitants of the postmodern world and bring us to “the salt of the earth.” From our argument above, Strauss’s philosophical investigations in reading the ancient and modern authors, we can conclude, give us useful guidance to overcome the crisis of modernity as well as postmodern tyranny. His speculation consistently pointed to the question: what is the good life? It is the wisdom to escape from the worst life, too. And, needless to say, this wisdom is very useful for us in East Asia. Its importance is shown by the fact that Strauss’s core teaching is about natural rights. Strauss’s natural right is said to be a reply to Heidegger’s teaching of Sein. In the end, Strauss’s critique of tyranny and his natural right doctrine were an alternative to the radical historicist and to the companion of modern tyranny.

Notes   1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Strauss (1989, 42) (hereafter cited as RCPR). Strauss (1952, 152) (hereafter cited as PPH). Strauss (2000, 208) (hereafter cited as OT). Strauss (1953, 29) (hereafter cited as NRH). Strauss (1989, 255) (hereafter cited as LAM). Vico, 1988, 45. Strauss (1959, 27) (hereafter cited as WIPP). Cf. the last paragraph of Hegel (1970). See also Heidegger (1952, S.197). See Strauss (1965, S. 63) and Strauss (2000), Ⅱ The Strauss–Kojève Debate, Ⅲ The Strauss–Kojève Correspondence. Cf., for example, Hegel (1969), Zweiter Teil, 3 Kapitel, Der Schluß. Kojève (1980, 160n). Kojève’s letter to Strauss dated September 19, 1950. OT, 255. Cf. Nietzsche, Jensits von Gut und Böse, Zweite Hauptstück, 30. Cf. Nietzsche, Zur Genealogie der Moral, Vorrede, 5. Plato (1968), Republic, 430e.

Bibliography Hegel, 1969. Wissenschaft der Logik (in G.W.F. Hegel Werke in 20 Bänden, Bd.6). Frankfurt A. M: Suhrkamp.

Strauss in postmodern East Asia  199 Hegel, 1970. Glauben und Wissen (in G.W.F. Hegel Werke in 20 Bänden, Bd.2). Frankfurt A. M: Suhrkamp. Heidegger, Maltin. 1952. Holzwege (Zweite unveränderte Aufl). Frankfurt A. M: Vittorio Klostermann 1952. Heidegger, Maltin. 1962. Die Technik und Die Kehre, Zweite Auflage. Tübingen: Neske. Kojève, Alexandre. 1980 (1967). Introduction to the Reading of Hegel, Allan Bloom (ed.), trans. James H. Nichols, JR. New York: Cornell University Press. (The original version was published with following title: Introduction à la Lecture de Hegel. Paris: Gallimard, 1967. Original English publication was in 1969.) Kojève and Strauss, 2000. The Strauss–Kojève Correspondence, in On Tyranny. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Nietzsche, 1980a. Jensits von Gut und Böse, in Friedrich Nietzsche Sämtliche Werke, Kritische Studienausgabe, Bd.5. München: Walter de Gruyter (dtv). Nietzsche, 1980b. Zur Genealogie der Moral, in Friedrich Nietzsche Sämtliche Werke, Kritische Studienausgabe, Bd.5. München: Walter de Gruyter (dtv). Pangle, Thomas L. 1992. The Ennobling of Democracy, The Challenge of the Postmodern Age. Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press. Plato, 1968. The Republic of Plato, trans., with notes, an interpretive essay and a new introduction by Allan Bloom. New York: Basic Books. Rosen, Stanley. 1987. Hermeneutics as Politics. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Strauss, Leo. 1952. The Political Philosophy of Hobbes, Its Basis and Its Genesis, trans. Elsa M. Sinclair. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1953. Natural Right and History. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1959. What Is Political Philosophy? And Other Studies. Glencoe, IL: Free Press. Strauss, Leo. 1965. Hobbes’ Politische Wissenschaft. Berlin: Luchterhand Verlag. Strauss, Leo. 1975. “The Three Waves of Modernity,” in Political Philosophy, Six Essays by Leo Strauss, edited by Hilail Gildin. Indianapolis: The Bobbs-Merrill Company. Strauss, Leo. 1988. What is Political Philosophy? And Other Studies. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1989. The Rebirth of Classical Political Rationalism, An Introduction to the Thought of Leo Strauss, Essays and Lectures by Leo Strauss, Selected and Introduced by Thomas L. Pangle. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Strauss, Leo. 1989. “Preface to Spinoza’s Critique of Religion,” in Liberalism Ancient and Modern. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Strauss, Leo. 2000. On Tyranny, Revised and Expanded Edition. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Vico, Giambattista. 1988. On the Most Ancient Wisdom of the Italians, trans. with an Introduction and Notes by L. M. Palmer. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Zuckert, Catherine and Michael. 2006. The Truth about Leo Strauss, Political Philosophy and American Democracy. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

Index

absolute knowledge 183, 187–9 absolute moment 183–4, 188 Alcibiades 59–60, 161 Alexander of Aphrodisias 78 Alfarabi 78 analogy in the Republic/the Republic 148, 150, 152–3, 155–9 ancient/ancients 5–7, 9–11, 16, 26, 28–30, 33, 37–8, 44, 49, 51, 56, 59, 67, 69, 71–2, 79, 91, 95, 99, 105, 107, 109–15, 122–9, 133, 135–41, 143–7, 162–3, 168–9, 176, 179, 180, 184, 196, 198–9 animality 190, 192 anti-liberal/anti-liberal vision 8–9, 92, 140, 144 anxiety 185, 194 Arendt, Hannah 58, 100, 106, 162 Aristophanes 41, 49, 51, 56, 66, 134, 151 Aristotle/Aristotelian x, 10, 20–1, 27, 41, 44, 46, 48–9, 55, 64, 67, 69–73, 77, 104, 120, 142, 151, 161–2, 174 Asia/Northeast Asia 3–7, 10, 105 As-If (“As-If”) 185 Augustine (St. Augustine) 11, 57, 30 Barker, Ernest 57 Barry, Brian 60, 78 Berlin, Isaiah 79, 84–5, 93–4, 144, 199 best regime/best possible regime 19–20, 27, 77, 110, 118, 120 Buckle, Henry Thomas 165, 167–9, 176–7 Buddhism 49, 52, 170, 173, 194 capitalist/capitalism 8, 42, 134, 181, 189–90, 193 Chinese Emperor 194 Chinese Liberals 82, 86 Chinese Straussian (s) 82–4, 86, 90, 92

Chinese thinking 94, 109, 111, 117, 123, 125–7 Christianity 27, 52, 134, 142, 170, 173 Chow, Pochung 86, 95 Cicero 69–71, 158 City and Man 10–11, 37, 46, 49, 52, 55, 59, 61, 64, 66–9, 71, 73–4, 99, 107, 129, 138, 146, 153, 160, 163 civilization (Western/theory of ) 22, 33, 83, 127, 164–8 classical philosophy 6, 9, 28, 60, 85, 142 Cohen, Herman 64 Cole, George Douglas Howard 57 common good 152–5, 158–9, 167, 173 communism/communist 29, 31, 34, 40, 72, 137–8, 149, 159, 180–1, 189–92 Confucianism/Confucius 5, 48–52, 94–5, 111, 115–17, 123–6, 128–9, 146, 166, 173, 194 conscience 188 conservatism 3, 29, 32–4, 36–9, 64, 91, 93, 101, 106, 133, 148 Constant Mean (Golden Mean, or Middle Way) 123 constitutional monarchy 165, 170, 172 convention 17–18, 21, 25, 45, 60, 86, 93, 119 creative destruction (chuangzaoxing pohuai) 10 credulity 166, 168–75, 177 crisis of the west 6, 8, 27, 42–3, 72–3, 134, 137, 139, 144–5, 159 Cropsey, Joseph 5, 12, 57, 65–6, 70, 77, 80–1, 95, 129, 133, 147 Cultural Revolution 9–10 de Jouvenel, Bertrand 60 Deng Xiaoping/Xiaoping Deng 8, 10 Derrida, Jacque 76 Descartes, René 62, 77

Index  201 Deutsch, Karl W. 37, 57, 129 dialectic 59, 79, 114, 182–4, 187–8, 195–7 Ding, Yun 94–5 Drury, Shadia 36–7, 102, 106, 143 Dunn, John 56 Dworkin, Ronald 57 East/the East 40–8, 109, 115, 127–8, 134–6, 136, 194 Eastern learning, learning (xue) 5 Easton, David 57, 98 East-West dialogue/the East-West 40–1, 43–5, 47 education (philosophical) 42, 112–13 emperor 40, 49, 165, 168, 170–5, 177–8, 194 end of history 50, 182–4, 190, 195 Enlightenment 8–9, 31, 42, 50, 85, 90–1, 93, 95, 110–12, 118, 164, 178, 181–3, 189 Epicurus 27, 60 esoteric/esotericism 5–6, 25–6, 37, 45, 50, 60, 62, 85, 97–8, 109, 112, 114–15, 120, 128, 140, 143, 151, 155, 160, 194, 196; exoteric/exotericism Essays on the Scientific Study of Politics 29 exceptional situation 165, 173, 175 fanaticism 10, 111, 118, 150, 164–5 final state 181, 190 Foucault, Michael 58, 162 freedom/realm of freedom 7, 9, 27, 29, 31, 33–4, 36, 69, 83–4, 87, 90, 118, 121, 140, 169, 184–90, 196 Freud, Sigmund 58–9 Fujiwara, Yasunobu 55–8, 61, 74–6, 78–80 Fukuzawa, Yukichi 7, 164–79 fundamental problems 16, 21, 24, 159 Gadamer, Hans-Georg 77, 102–3, 107 Galileo 62, 69 Gan, Yang/Yang Gan 6–7, 9, 11, 82, 85, 92, 95, 133; Integration of Three Traditions (tong santong) 8 gentlemen (  junzi) 5, 115 geometric 185 Glaucon 153, 156–7, 197 Goethe (John Wolfgang von Goethe) 64 good politics (haozhengzhi) 6 Gough, John Wiedhofft 62 Guizot, François 165, 168–9, 177–8 Gunnel, John 119, 129, 133, 160, 162

Habermas, Jürgen 58 Halevi 57 Hegel (Georg Wilhelm Friedrich) 6, 19, 40, 47, 56, 59, 64, 79, 142, 182–9, 192, 198–9; “Master” and “slave” Heidegger, Martin 11, 24, 28, 41, 43–4, 49–52, 66, 77, 103, 111, 115, 119, 122, 126–9, 135, 147, 159, 181, 183–5, 194–5, 198–9 hermeneutic (s) 3–5, 25–6, 37, 44, 56, 103, 150, 155, 161, 199 historicism 5, 8, 15, 23–5, 28, 30, 33, 37, 43, 50, 65, 73, 96, 103–4, 112, 144, 159, 164, 182, 184–5, 195; German historicism 144; radical historicism 24, 43, 73, 159, 182, 184–5, 195 History of Political Philosophy 3, 5, 12, 56–7, 61, 64–6, 71, 74, 77, 80, 81, 95, 105, 108, 129, 133, 147, 163 Hobbes, Thomas/Hobbesian 8, 41, 49, 51, 55–6, 60, 66, 69–70, 73, 75–7, 79, 81, 95, 104, 108, 129, 134, 137–42, 146–7, 182, 186, 193, 199; self-preservation 10, 35, 62 homogenized world 193 human nature (hierarchy of) 8, 10, 22, 88, 111–12, 120, 123, 139, 157–8, 170 human politics 139–41, 145 Husserl, Edmund 66, 77, 103 idealism 9–10, 57, 99, 143–4, 149–50, 152, 157, 159–60 India/Indian 48, 127, 129, 135, 177, 194, 199 infinite judgment 187–90 interpretation 3–4, 9, 18, 25–6, 28, 32, 36, 38, 43–4, 50–1, 55, 58, 60–1, 63–6, 71, 76–8, 81–3, 85, 90, 97–101, 104, 106–8, 146, 148–59, 161–2, 175–6, 179, 182, 184 Ishizaki, Yoshihiko x, 59, 79–80 Jerusalem and Athens 37, 46, 48, 51, 77, 129, 136, 146–7 Kallipolis 143–4, 152, 157 Kant, Immanuel 69, 73, 112, 176, 183–8 Kelsen, Hans 76 Kojève, Alexandre 6, 12, 76, 82, 135, 142, 145, 181–4, 189–96, 198–9 Korean politics/Korean democracy 102, 107, 148–50, 159–60 Korean scholars 7, 98, 101; Kim, ­ Hong-Woo 100, 102–4, 106–7; Kim, Young-Kook 98–100, 102–8 Korean studies 104

202  Index Laski, Harold 57 Lasswell, Harold D. 57, 98 last man (letzter Mensch) 50, 182–3, 190–4 legislator (lifazhe) 6, 20–1, 92, 183 Levinas, Emmanuel 76 Liang Qichao/Qichao Liang 7 liberal (“being free”) 9 liberal democracy 4, 7–9, 11, 29–31, 35, 37, 79, 84, 105, 134, 180–2, 194 liberal education 6, 33, 82–3, 92–3, 105, 109, 120, 135, 161, 196 liberalism/Liberalism Ancient and Modern 9, 11, 29, 33, 38, 49, 51, 56, 67, 79, 95, 99, 105, 107, 114, 129, 135, 146–7, 163, 176, 179, 199 Lilla, Mark 3, 11, 134, 145–7 Liu, Qing 83, 95 Liu, Xiaofeng/Xiaofeng Liu 6–7, 9, 11, 81, 84, 91–6, 133, 147 Locke, John 62, 104, 106 Löwith, Karl 31, 64–5, 129 Lucretius 27, 44, 60 Machiavelli, Niccolò 10, 16, 23, 27–8, 34, 38, 41, 43, 48–9, 51–2, 65–7, 69–70, 79, 95, 97, 99, 101–2, 104, 106–7, 113, 129, 143, 157, 174–7, 179; Thoughts on Machiavelli 16, 38, 48–9, 51–2, 65, 79, 95, 97, 99, 101, 106–7, 129, 176, 179 Maimonides 41, 46, 49, 57, 59, 78–80, 114, 146 man-made world 183 Mannheim, Karl 69 Mao Zedong/Zedong Mao 8–9, 40 Marchant, Edgar Cardew 77 market/market place 184 Maruyama, Masao 77, 176–7, 179 Marx, Karl 40, 42, 67, 79, 82, 95, 134, 142, 183, 186, 189, 192, 194 Marxism/Marxist (Marxist China) 40, 42, 134 Marxist-Hegelian vision 142 masses/ignorant masses (crowds, multitudes) 165, 170–2, 174–5 “Master” and “slave” 187 Matsumoto, Reiji 76 moderation (zhongyong, sophrosyne) 59–60, 82, 84–5, 93–4, 113, 118–19, 122, 126, 128, 196–8 Modern China 51, 91, 134, 136; Modern Japan 165, 179 modernity (in general) 3–4, 6–7, 11, 27–8, 38, 41–4, 46, 48, 51–2, 60, 82, 90–1,

93–5, 100, 104, 107, 129–30, 133–4, 139, 145, 147, 162, 164, 176, 179, 181–4, 186–9, 193–6, 198–9 modernization 6–9, 12, 60, 91–2, 134, 193 Montaigne 60 Moses 58 mutual recognition (recognition) 187 Nagao, Ryuuichi 58, 76, 79 Nakagane, Satoshi 59–60, 76, 79 nationalism (patriotism) 42, 91, 171, 174, 175, 177 nature (natural law) 21, 56, 90, 186 natural right 11, 16–17, 21–2, 24, 37–8, 42–6, 49–51, 56, 60, 73, 82, 86–7, 93–5, 99–100, 102, 104, 106–7, 109, 129, 133, 139–42, 144, 147, 163, 167, 173, 176, 179, 185–6, 188, 198–9; Natural Right and History 11, 16–17, 22, 24, 37–8, 43, 45, 49–51, 56, 60, 72, 79, 82, 86, 94–5, 99–100, 104, 106–7, 129, 133, 147, 163, 176, 179, 186, 199 necessary detour argument 173, 175 Negri, Antonio 76 neo-conservatism, neo-conservatists 59, 101 Newell, Anthony 76 Newton, Issac 62 Nietzsche, Friedrich/Nietzschean 28, 41, 43–4, 49–50, 64, 85, 104, 107, 134, 181, 183–4, 189, 192, 194, 197–9 nihilism 38, 85–8, 95, 110, 137–8, 146, 150, 164, 167, 176, 179, 184–5, 189, 196; German nihilism 38, 137–8, 146, 164, 176, 179 Nishinaga, Ryo 76 noetic heterogeneity 197 Nozick, Robert 57 Oakeshott, Michael 37 Ogasawara, Hirochika 62, 79 Ohta, Yoshiki 76 Olschki, Leonard 70 Oriental despotism/despotism 180, 193 Oshimura, Takashi 58, 80 Pangle, Thomas 11, 36–8, 46, 48–8, 51–2, 77, 80, 95, 146–7, 161, 163, 183, 199 permanent problems 16, 36, 144 Persecution and the Art of Writing 38, 52, 56, 79, 99, 107, 129, 147, 163 philosopher-king 150, 152, 156, 158 Philosophy and Law 36, 78, 80, 146

Index   203 piety 7, 42, 44, 46–7, 60, 115 Plamenatz, John 67, 79 Plato 10, 15, 19–21, 23, 27, 36–8, 41, 44, 46, 49, 51–2, 56, 59–60, 64, 66–7, 69, 71, 73, 77, 82, 85, 99, 102, 104, 106–7, 113–16, 118, 120, 128–30, 134, 139, 141–5, 150–7, 160–3, 184, 196–9; Platonic 23, 38, 46, 49, 51–2, 66, 99, 114–15, 118, 129, 139, 141, 143–5, 150–2, 160, 197; Platonic dialogues 114–15, 150, 152, 160; Republic (The Republic, Plato) 73, 148–63, 199 pluralism 8, 84, 88–90, 95, 164–70, 173–5; value pluralism 88–90 Pocock, J.G.A. 56, 77 Polybius 70 post-socialist reforms (in China) 8 political: the “Political” 8–9, 11–12, 30, 95, 119, 138–42, 146, 196; ‘dual meaning of political philosophy’ 5, 19; political science 18, 21, 37, 48, 50–1, 55, 57–8, 69–70, 72, 74, 78, 81, 83, 97–100, 103, 105–7, 107, 128, 147, 162–3; political theory 12, 18–19, 30, 38, 50, 56, 78, 81, 95, 139–40, 146, 162; political philosophy passim; ‘philosophical treatment of politics’ 18; ‘political treatment of philosophy’ 6 positivism (scientific) 5, 15, 28, 100, 104, 145 practicing (  jianxing) 5 progress 17, 22–3, 32, 36, 38, 42, 83, 92–3, 116, 125, 164, 167–70, 172–3, 175, 177, 188–9, 191 prudence 20–1, 32, 35, 76, 101, 113, 118–19, 122, 136, 138, 149, 160 ( phronesis) 20; practical wisdom 20, 117, 128 Qian, Yongxiang 86, 95 rationalism 7, 11, 23, 28, 38, 46, 49, 51–2, 80, 95, 100, 106, 109, 112, 118–19, 126–9, 135–6, 146–7, 164, 176, 179, 185–6, 188–9, 196, 199; Western rationalism 7, 109, 126–7, 135–6; Greek rationalism 136 Rawls, John 56–7, 66, 79, 83, 85, 87–9 reason (with Revelation) 21–3, 36, 59, 129, 185; reasoning 18, 42, 85, 169, 187–9 reception (geographical) 3–5, 11, 42, 55, 58, 60, 74, 94, 98, 105 relativism 7, 49, 56, 86, 110, 117, 120, 122–3, 133, 145, 165, 167; relative thinking 7, 165–7

Ren, Jiantao 91, 95 revelation 15, 21–3, 36, 44, 51, 58–9, 110, 129, 168, 185 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 28, 43, 69, 76, 102, 104, 112, 188, 198; general will 188 Rosen, Stanley 183, 198–9 Russian Czar 194 Sabine, George Holland 81, 95, 133, 160, 163 Sato, Takashi 76 Schmitt, Carl 8–9, 11–12, 30, 38, 41, 57, 82, 91, 95, 105, 134–5, 137–41, 144–6; The Concept of the Political 12, 38, 95, 139, 146 science (technology) 30, 40, 47–8, 57, 139, 151, 168, 182–3, 186, 195, 197 self-consciousness 94, 183, 187–8 Shibata, Toshiko 58–9, 79 Sino-Christian Studies (in China) 133 skeptic, skepticism, Zetetic 10, 35, 118, 143, 145, 165, 167–70, 173–5 Skinner, Quentin 56, 77 Smith, Steven 8, 10–11, 31, 34, 36–7, 48, 51, 97, 143–5 Socrates/Socratic 15–17, 21, 27, 30, 35, 37, 45, 49, 51, 56, 59–60, 66–7, 72–4, 77–9, 85, 113–14, 119, 121–2, 127, 130, 150–1, 153, 156–8, 161–2, 196–7 sovereign state, sovereignty 142, 33 Spinoza, Baruch 23, 26, 30, 38, 41, 46, 49, 51, 57, 61, 64, 66, 71, 78–9, 104, 130, 185, 199; Spinoza’s Critique of Religion 23, 30, 38, 49, 51, 64, 66, 78–9, 130, 199 Strauss, Leo: Strauss fever 3, 94; StraussKojéve debate 6, 182, 190, 192–3, 195, 198; Straussian hermeneutics 3–5, 25, 37, 44, 56, 103, 199; Wave (s)/Three Waves of Modernity 38, 43, 51, 199 Sugita, Takao 76 suppositum 185 Tacitus 70 Taoism (Daoism) 49, 52, 194 Tarcov, Nathan 5, 8–10, 12, 15–38, 48, 52, 76–7, 80, 97, 100, 102, 105–8, 148, 160–1, 163 The Argument and the Action of Plato’s Laws 56 The Cold War 8–9, 31, 35, 181 The Political Philosophy of Hobbes 49, 51, 55, 77, 79, 81, 95, 129, 146, 199

204  Index theology/political theology 22, 30, 49, 136, 146–7 Thomas, Pangle 77, 80, 183 Thucydides 38, 41, 44, 59, 64, 70–1, 73–4, 104, 106, 134, 21–2, 26–7 Tolstoy, Leo 67, 94 totalitarianism/totalitarian state (authoritarian state) 181–2, 185–6, 180, 183 tradition 4–5, 7–8, 10–11, 17–18, 26–34, 38, 41–2, 45–8, 56–7, 59, 62, 65–6, 70–2, 75, 77–8, 86, 90, 92–4, 98, 109–10, 112, 115, 122–3, 126, 134, 136, 140–2, 145–6, 149, 151–2, 161–3, 164–6, 168, 177, 194, 197 truth 15, 18, 24–5, 32, 52, 63, 66, 68–9, 85, 103, 112–14, 117–18, 121–3, 127, 139–40, 151, 163, 176–7, 185–6, 197, 199 tyranny (On Tyranny) 12, 38, 51, 80, 129, 146, 163, 180–2, 191, 196, 199 universal state/universal and homogeneous state 32, 142–5, 181–3, 190–1, 193, 197 utopianism 8, 10, 19, 133–47, 148, 150, 153, 156–9; ancient (legitimate) utopianism 145; anti-utopianism 148, 150, 153, 156–8; modern utopianism 8, 10, 145; political utopianism 133–47

Vaughan, Charles Edwyn 76, 144 Vico, Giambattista 186, 198–9 virtuous politics (dezheng) 7 Voegelin, Eric 51, 82, 100, 106, 133 Weber, Max 43, 49–50, 57, 103, 196 West/the West/the Old West 6, 8, 22, 27, 29, 33, 33–5, 42–3, 46–7, 51, 72–3, 82–3, 90, 93–5, 109, 127–8, 133–9, 144–5, 159, 166, 177, 179, 180, 194; Western Civilization 22, 33, 83, 127, 164–8; Westernization 6, 12, 90 What Is Political Philosophy? and Other Studies 19, 38, 52, 56, 79, 95, 146, 163, 176, 179, 199 Wolin, Seldon 77, 102 Xenophon 41, 44, 49, 51, 56, 66–7, 74, 77, 79, 104, 129, 130, 134, 196 Xu, Jilin 91, 96 Zuckert, Catherine 48, 52, 97, 148, 160, 163, 183–4, 199 Zuckert, Michael 48, 52, 97, 148, 160, 163, 183–4, 199