Xenophon's philosophic odyssey: On the Anabasis and Plato's Repbuli
ess acm el emer aee me ee
The American Political Science Review; Dee 2000; 94, 4; ProQuest
pe.875
‘American Political Science Review
Vol. 94, No.4 December 2000
Xenophon’s Philosophic Odyssey: On the Anabasis and Plato’s Republic
JACOB HOWLAND University of Tulsa
‘companion piece 10 Plato's Republic. The Anabasis takes up in deed the two great political
Xe ‘Anabasis, a miliary adventure interwoven with a story of philosophical self-discovery, is
problems treated in speech in he Republic, namely, how a just community can come into being and
‘how philosophy and political power may be brought to coincide. In addressing the frst of these problems,
Xenophon makes explicit a lesson about the limits of politics tha i implicit in the Republic. He speaks to
‘the second problem by clarifying the essential role of philosophical er6s in his emergence, atthe moment of
‘rsis, asthe founder and leader of a well-ordered community. Xenophon’s self presentation in the Anabasis,
Which makes clear his debs to Socrates, illuminates the nature of philosophical courage as well asthe saving
integrity of the philosophical soul
‘much more well known to earlier generations of
readers than itis to our own, In antiquity, Xeno-
phon was widely admired as a man of considerable
parts, whose virtues of intellect and character were
Aisplayed in a noble harmony of speech and deed,
Romans and Greeks alike regarded him as an exem:
plary warrior, a model of political leadership, an elo-
quent orator, and an inspired author. Xenophon’s
abilities as a’ political thinker and leader were also
quickly recognized when the study of Greek was re~
vived in Europe at the end of the Middle Ages (Dakyns
1890, x).
‘Xenophon’s reputation stemmed largely from the
‘events related in the Anabasis, a tale of courage and
‘endurance that did not fail to impress the most ambi
tious individuals of later ages. The Greek historian
Polybius, writing in the second century B.C. suggests
that Alexander's expedition into Asia never would have
occurred apart from the example of the successful
retreat of the Ten Thousand from Persia." Plutarch
(1968) reoords that when Mark Antony's army was
suffering from famine, fatigue, and sickness on cam:
paign against the Parthians, “Antony, they say, often
tttered °O the Ten Thousand!” in amazement at those
who were with Xenophon” (Ansony 45.6). Dio Chr
sostum (1950), a Greek author of the first century c-.,
foes so far as to recommend Xenophon to aspiring
frators on the ground that he “alone among the
lancients, is able 10 suffice for a political man” (Dis
Course 18.14). Dio praises Xenophon’s speeches in the
‘Anabasis for theit hortatory poster, prudence (phroné:
4s), and cunning, and he notes that the persuasiveness
‘of his words derives from his “not having learned from
hearing, nor having imitated others, but having done
I is safe to say that the name of Xenophon was
Tob Howland is Anociat Profenor of Pilospy, Department of
Philosphy and Relion, Univerty of Tl, Tuba: OK 71063189
(aeabshowtand@ taba es).
‘Tam deeply grateful wo Ada Fair for her patience and profs
sionaum, tothe anonymous releres of APSR fr thet excellent
Creal sggetions and to the stadens in my 1998 Xepophon
‘fous 1993, The Hisar 369-11. See the comparion of
“Xenophon and Alrander in Avian, Arabs of Alexander 122-4
‘Agua al odd Xenophon led roughly ten thousand metenaries
‘ko Gresce from the nert of Pera after the army failed to
overthrow Emperor Arunercs
deeds as well as talked about them” (Discourse 18.17).
‘The philosophical statesman Cicero (1952) and the
‘orator Quintilian (1954) were no less impressed with
Xenophon’s mastery of the written word. The former
calls his style “sweeter than honey” and records that
“the Muses were said to speak with the voice of
Xenophon” (Cicero, Orator 9.32, 19.62); the latter
observes that “the Graces themselves seem to have
molded his style... [and] the goddess of persuasion sat
‘upon his lips” (Quintilian, Instiutio Oraioria 10.1.82)>
Niccold Machiavelli and Francis Bacon held Xeno-
phon in similarly high esteem. Machiavelli seems to
have regarded him as the wisest of the ancients with
respect to the political things. Ithas been observed that,
hhe “mentions Xenophon in the Principe and the Dis-
corsi more frequently than he does Plato, Aristotle, and
Cicero taken together”; what is more, Xenophon’s
Education of Cyrus is the only book cited by name in
the Prince (Strauss 1991, 103, n. 3; Nadon 1996, 361, n
3). For his part, Bacon ({1859] 1963) holds up “Xeno-
pphon the philosopher” as a prime example, alongside
Alexander and Caesar, of “the concurrence of military
virtue and learning.” He marvels at Xenophon’s sud-
den transition during the march of the Ten Thousand
from being an object of “scorn” to one of “wonder,”
and he concurs with the judgment of the ancient
historians that Alexander's achievements rested “upon.
the ground of the act of that young scholar” (Bacon
[1859] 1963, 313-4).
‘After the Renaissance, the Anabasis became the
primary text for beginning Greck students, and an
Oxford professor writing as recently as 1949 found no
rnced to review the story of the Ten Thousand because
the Anabasis “has been read by generations of British
schoolboys” (Howell 1949, 3). Such a claim could
hardly be made today. Xenophon also is not read in
‘translation as a matter of course by students of classical
philosophy and political theory, perhaps because his
‘writings meet the disciplinary expectations of the mod-
ern academy less clearly than those of other ancient
authors (Wood 1964, 37-40). The virtues for which
7 dalled dncasion othe casical ical tradition wih regard
Xenophon i provided ia Dakyas 190, iii
Xenophon was probably ile ewe than thirty years old when be
joined the expedition of Cys (Mather and Hew 192,23),
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission‘Xenophion’s Philosophic Odyssey: On the Anabasis and Plato's Republic
Xenophon was held in high esteem by the most dis-
cerning ancient and early modern students of politics
hhave escaped the notice of most contemporary acade-
micians (but see Strauss 1970, 1972, 1975, 1991).
Recent interest in the Education of Cyrus suggests that
the tide may be beginning to turn, but much of the new
scholarship is marred by inattention to the “cutting
nuances and subtlety” of Xenophon’s writing (Nadon
1996, 362). The Anabasis, in any case, continues to be
neglected by philosophers and politcal theorists alike
‘Thoughtful readers of this forgotten masterpicce will
agree that “Xenophon stipe for rehabilitation” (Gold-
hill 1998).
This article is rooted in the conviction that the
Anabasis deserves to be rediscovered as a literary and
philosophical classic. Xenophon invites the reader to
join him in a voyage of philosophical self-discovery, the
shape and meaning of which emerges most
when the Anabasis i studied as a companion pi
Plato's Republic. This approach, which to my knowl-
edge has not been explored, is suggested by the recog
nition that Xenophon's text recaptulates the central
themes and issues of Plato's most well-known dialogue.
The parallels between the two works are further en
riched by the use of Homer's Odjssey as a subtext in
both. All three of these texts tell the story of a
homecoming of the soul as well as the body, a home-
coming that unfolds on an intellectual and metaphysi-
cal level as well as the literal level of physical reality
Although Xenophon’s narrative also converses withthe
Hisiory’of Herodotus, Aeschylus’ Persians, and the
Thad, a full exploration of his literary debts is impossi-
ble in the present context. I propose instead to follow
the most direct route into the meaning of the Anabasis,
a route marked out by Plato's Republic
The Anabasis is on one level the story of a military
adventure that accidentally assumes the characteristics
of the Republic's main theme: the creation of the good
city. Xenophon takes up in deed the two great political
problems treated in speech by Plato, namely, how a just
polity can come into being and how philosophy and
political power may be brought to coincide, Xenophon
addresses the first problem by showing us the condi-
tions for the emergence of an actual community, the
retreating Ten Thousand, that is as nearly well ordered
as a political community can be. But a well-ordered
‘community is not necessarily a genuinely just commu:
nity, such as the Republic's Kallipolis aspires to be, that
is, a community in which devotion to the common good
springs from the intrinsic virtue of its members. Xeno-
phon makes it clear that the ephemeral unity of the
Ten Thousand is rooted in nothing other than the
urgent need for self-defense against external enemies;
when this urgency fades, order inevitably gives way to
factional strife. In explicating the fragility of order
among the Ten Thousand, the absence of a common
‘good that transcends self-defense, and thus the atten-
luated sense in which even this extraordinary political
body exemplifies justice, the Anabasis makes explicit a
lesson about the limits of politics that is implicit in the
Republic. Yet, this lesson takes shape differently in
cach text, Plato's Socrates seems to be aware of the
876
December 2000
limits of politics from the moment he proposes to
found a city in speech, but Xenophon learns of them
only through harsh experience and as a result of the
actual outcome of events. His experiences, however,
lead him to define these limits more sharply than
Socrates does. In particular, the Anabasis repeatedly
underscores the difference, and indeed the tension,
between political order and justice, a theme only
indirectly visible in the Republic,
The Anabasis is also, and most significantly, the story
of Xenophon's intellectual and moral growth. It traces
the path of his personal appropriation of the wisdom of
Socrates, whom Xenophon leaves behind in Athens
when he joins the expedition of Cyrus (Anabasis 3.1.4—
7). It is furthermore in terms of his manifestation of
Socratic or philosophical courage that we must under-
stand Xenophon’s response to the second great prob-
lem treated by Plato. At the center of the Republic, one
‘encounters a seemingly intractable opposition between
rds and thumos, or philosophical passion and spirited-
ness (especially as evinced in anger, and in the pursuit
‘of honor and victory (Republic 586c~d)). Socrates
invites us to ponder the relationship of these two
dimensions of the soul when he makes it clear that the
genuine philosopher will not wish to rule and, con-
versely, that the type of person who is attracted to
ruling offices will not be inclined to philosophize. The
Anabasis speaks to this problem by clarifying. the
critical role of philosophical passion in Xenophon’s
emergence as the founder and leader of a well-ordered
community. Xenophon presents himself as a timely,
and therefore admittedly temporary, solution to the
problem of the relationship between philosophy and
politics. The key to this solution lies in the fact that
Xenophion’s spiritedness, far from asserting itself as
potentially antiphilosophical thumos, is indistinguish-
able from the energy intrinsic to philosophical er6s,
‘The power of the latter to overcome the partiality of
thumos and to unify the soul is accordingly a central
theme of Xenophon’s self-presentation in the Anaba-
sis. Xenophon emphasizes that his philosophical dispo-
sition graces his soul with a saving integrity. His
political and military success is nevertheless merely the
penultimate stage in this odyssey of self-discovery. His
tltimate achievement of Socratic self-knowledge fol-
lows the decay of the community of the Ten Thousand
and is anticipated by his eventual decision to exchange
the seductions of military and political activity for the
deeper pleasures of quiet reflection.
XENOPHON AND PLATO
A few preliminary observations about the relationship
between Xenophon and Plato are in order. First, the
‘existence of a Symposium and an Apology of Socrates in
the corpus of both Xenophon and Plato constitutes
prima facie evidence that these authors were ac-
quainted with cach other's writings. Ancient commen-
{ators took it for granted that this was the case. One
TGalow another Wile indie
book, chapter, ad section num
iT aabsequent citations are to
ofthe Anabass
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ancient tradition holds that Xenophon wrote the Cyro-
paedia in response to the first books of the Republic;
fnother maintains that the Athenian Strangers re~
marks about Cyrus in Plato's Laws (694a-69Sb) were
meant as a criticism of the Cropaedia (Diogenes
Lacttus 1991, Lives of Eminent Philosophers 3.34,
Aulus Gellius 1952, Attic Nights 14.3.3-4).
Second, the core of my argument is largely indepen-
dent of chronological considerations. My thesis that
the Republic and the Anabasis are companion pieces
need not rest upon the assumption thatthe former was
the earlier work. For example, Plato may have added
passages to the Republi, or otherwise revised iin the
light of his reading of the Amobasis. It sles likely that
Plato began to write the Republic after reading the
Anabasis. Even 0, both works can be viewed as
‘ariations on a common set of themes and issues, as
meditations that are best appreciated in tandem, just
insofar as one of them takes the measure of the other.>
Finally although Xenophon’s ancient readers do not
explicitly lnk the Anabasts with the Republi a they Jo
the Chropaedia, the plausibility of such a connection is
strengthened by the fact that all three works are
essentially concerned with war, tyranny, and especialy
the relationship between erds and thumos, Indeed, the
latter problem stands, both literally and thematically at
the center of the Cyropaedia as well as the Repub
“The third “wave of paradox” of book $ of the
Republic, according to which political power and phi-
losophy must coincide, breaks at the exact center of the
text (Howland 1998, 633) This is said to be the “biggest
land most dificult” of the three waves of paradox
(Republic 47223), presumably because it demands
reconciliation of & range of humanly fundamental
‘Oppositions, including those between spritednese and
cratic lve, the longing for honor and the longing for
‘wisdom, public welfare and private affection, the pol
ieal production of civic order and the philosophical
discovery of truth. Prior to the thd wave’s introduc:
tion of philosopherckings, the city in speech is distin.
guished by the suppression of erés and the ule of
Wwell-tempered thumos, Thus the essential qualification
for rule in books 3 and 4 i political (as opposed t0
philosophical) courage—stealfastness in prese
"right opinion” (orthé doxa), particularly the conviction
(dogma) that one must do what is best for the city (cf.
4412e-e with 420d-430e). Immediately after the third
wave, however, the theme of erés explodes into the
dialogue: ‘The philosopher is essentially characterized
by an erotic passion forthe whole of truth and wisdom,
a passion that Socrates describes by borrowing the
language’ of sexual attraction and consummation
(4746-4764, 485a-b, 4902-b). The rulers of the just
city must somehow overcome the oppositions that
emophon's ue of the Imperfect te
least tis portion of the tet was written ater his expulsion from
Sellos (Datyns 1890, lv, cra) ts thus reasonably certain that
Xenophon was still working onthe Anabasis after 371 (Dillery 1985,
59 with 264 n. 1). According 10 the standard view of Platonic
Chronology this means that Xenophon was stl working on the
Anabosi ater the Republic was nal likelihood complete (Gate
37-10 indicates that at
1967, 437 Ross 1981, 2: bu see the criticisms in Howland 1991,
Vol. 94, No. 4
come to a head in the third wave; they must, as
Socrates says, be “best in philosophy and with respect
to war” (543aS-6, emphasis added).
Similarly, Xenophon introduces the tension between,
thumos and erds at the literal center of the Cyropaedia
when he acquaints us (at the very end of book 4 and the
beginning of book 5, in a text comprising eight books)
with the character of Panthea, by reputation the most
beautiful woman in Asia, Cyrus, whose governing
desire is to rule a great empire, refuses even to gaze
upon Panthea because he fears becoming a slave to
erotic attraction (Cyropaedia 5.1.8, 12, 16). He wishes
to avoid such slavery, inspite of its attendant pleasures,
because it would prove fatal to his political ambitions.
In Cytus's view, erds and thumos cannot cooperate
within the soul: One must always be the absolute
master of the other. Cyrus’s manly pursuit of victory
and honor therefore requires his utter rejection of the
charms of beauty.
‘The story of Cyrus and Panthea dramatizes the issue
at the heart of the problem of philosophical rule. The
‘meaning of this story becomes clear when itis consid-
cred with a view toward the erotic philosopher of the
Republic—to say nothing of a similar episode in Xeno-
phon’s Memorabilia (3.11), wherein Socrates, when
told of the beauty of the courtesan Theodote, rushes off
to see her. By turning a blind eye to beauty and a deaf
ear to what he regards as the siren-song of erds, Cyrus
renders himself impervious to the educative power of
music, which has everything to do with “love matters
{erdvika] that concern the fait” (Republic 403¢6~7), and
So to philosophical music in particular. If this sugges-
tion is well taken, then the Athenian Stranger’s crti-
cism that Cyrus “failed completely to grasp what is a
correct education” (Plato, Laws 694c6~7) turns out to
be one that Xenophon hopes thoughtful readers will
have understood on their own.
‘THE REPUBLIC: POLITICS IN SPEECH
The Republic is narrated by Socrates and starts with
physical journey. Its first word is “I went down” (kate-
‘6én). Katabasis, the noun meaning “going down,” isthe
opposite of anabasis, or “going up"; the latter term
refers specifically to a journey inland from the sea, or
up country. The Piraeus, to which Socrates went down
“yesterday” with Glaucon in order to observe the
festival of Bendis (and from which presumably he has
returned as of “today”), is the port of Athens. Accord-
ing to Socrates, his anabasis—his attempt to go back
up to Athens from the sea—is interrupted by Polemar-
chus (Republic 327¢-328b), and he ends up spending all
night in the Piraeus in philosophical conversation with
some young men. In the place of a literal ascent in
deed, the Republic provides an ascent in speech to the
just city and to the highest objects of philosophical
inquiry, namely, the Ideas and the Good. In the course
of this ascent, there is furthermore much talk of going
down and going up. The theme of ascent and descent
appears in the myth of Gyges’ ring in book 2, in the
famous cave image of education in book 7, and in the
myth of Er in book 10, in which Er goes down to Hades
877
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.‘Xenophon’s Philosophie Odyssey: On the Anabasis and Plato's Republic
and then returns to the land of the living. Finally, the
theme of ascent and descent is reflected in the shut-
ting, dialectical movement of philosophy as depicted
in the Divided Line—movement up to the Ideas and
the Good and back down to concrete conclusions
(Republic S118-c).
As can be seen from the preceding list, the image of
physical descent and ascent is meant to suggest motion
fn the level ofthe soul. Its in terms of this motion that
we must understand both Socrates’ katabasis at the
beginning of the Republic and the action of the dia-
logue as a whole. Plato makes it clear that the Republic
is a philosophical epic in which Socrates struggles 10
rescue his companions from a kind of living death, the
condition of the unexamined life, within the horizons
oof which the practice of tyrannical injustice, whether
‘open o disguised, seems indispensable to supreme
happiness (34a, 362a~c). To begin with, the dramatic
setting of the dialogue in the home of Cephalus in the
Piraeus leaves little doubt that we are initially, as Eva
Brann writes, “in the city of shades, the house of Pluto”
in the name Piraeus (especially in the accusative phrase
eis Peiraia, which Socrates employs in the first line of
the dialogue) one hears peraia or “beyond-land"; Ben:
dis is a deity of the underworld; and one ancient source
indicates that Cephalus, who is said to be on the
threshold of death (Republic 328e6), actually died at
least twenty years before 421, the earliest dramatic date
most scholars are willing to assign to the Republic
(Brann 1989-90, 8-9). Furthermore, the dialogue
takes place under a cloud of war and imminent tyran-
nical violence. Three of the ten characters who appear
in the Republic—Polemarchus, Niceratus, and Cleito-
phon—will be murdered by the Thirty Tyrants who
seize power in Athens in 404 (Krentz 1982, 79-81;
Rahe 1977, 198).
Yet, although the conversation begins in the city of
shades, it concludes with a return to light and life. The
myth of Er ends when Er awakens on his funeral pyre
at dawn (Republic 621b); as it happens, it is probably
around dawn when Socrates finishes telling Er's tale at
the very end of the Republic. The journey traced by the
sun in the background of the dialogue as it moves
below, and ultimately reemerges from beneath, the
earth’s surface seems to be a cosmic analogue of the
‘movement of philosophy itself (Rosenstock 1983, 220-
1). What is more, this imagistic depiction of education
as the ascent of the soul from the land of the dead to
the land of the living, from darkness to light, and from
confusion to clarity, is well established by the time of
Plato. It is the basic structure of the Greek religious
rites of mystery initiation, such as those practiced at
Eleusis (Burkert 1983, 248-97). It appears in Par-
menides’ famous philosophical poem, written perhaps
fifty years before the bieth of Plato. Most important, it
is reflected in the Odyssey, in which Odysseus passes
beyond the boundary of death and, renewed by ult
‘mate wisdom, returns to the land of the living.
1 Socrates is depicted the Repablc asa phibsophical Odyseus He
temps» homecoming of stl that have been blown of course y
he stormy winds of appetite and ignorance and that consequently
878
December 2000
‘THE ANABASIS: POLITICS IN DEED
‘The Anabasis, 00, narrates a circular journey.’ As in
the Republi, the mot of homecoming Inthe Anabass
is interwined with the themes of descent toward
literal nd spitiual death and a political and phil
Sophical ascent. With regard to politcal matter, the
plsn of composition in the Anadis a8 follons in
Eooks 1, 2 and 3, increasing danger and ascent from
everyday politcal reality tothe well-ordered regime: in
book 4 the perfected warror-community of te Ten
‘Thousand, in books 5,6, and 7, return fo safety and
descent from the well-ordered regime to every
political realty. With regard to Xenophon's personal
Sry, the nab erty an asent towed se
Kmowledge. Let us now consider the shape of the
‘Anabass in more deta
"Te ful ie of Xenophon’s book is Kirou Anabass,
or Ascent of Crs, its subject isnot Cyrus the Creat,
whose story told inthe Cropacta, but Cyrus the
Younger ‘The tite cbviowly bas politcal overtones.
Cyrus fad hoped that is march up County to do battle
wth is olger brother Aateres, who. suceeded
Darius in 40S, would conclude wit hs acent to the
Persian throne. The geographical goingup of Cyrus
and tis amy of Persans and. Greek mercenaries
turned out to be a moral, political, and peychologcl
toing-down: Crus was kil a the battle of Canaxa
{OL the Persians in his force abandoned the Greeks
and went over to Aruxartes andthe five main Greek
commanders (including Clearchus,Proseaus, and
Meno} ogether with eweny other ofices, were mur
dered short thereafter through the teachery of the
Persian commander Tissaphernes. The leaderlss Ten
‘Thousand found themscives surrounded by avast army
in'the heart of enemy terior, an enemy. whose
hosly was intensified by two invasions of Hellas
during the preceding century that ended in hurting
defeat atthe hands of the Greeks, Xenophon andthe
Greek mercenaries had followed Cyrus straight down,
So speak into ving hell. lof ths accomplished
in the int two books ofthe Anabass.
Tyranny
‘The Greeks are not, however, simply victims of circum
stance. Xenophon makes it clear that the mercenary
disunity of the army played an essential role in bringing.
about the extraordinarily dangerous situation faced at
the end of book 2, and this disunity must in turn be
understood in relation to the theme of tyranny. This
point emerges most clearly when the Anahasis is com
pared with the Republic. Both books begin with the
‘wander about in @ Hid of moral and intelectual no-maa'eland
(Howland 193, which develops Segal 1978; cf. Lachterman 1990).
‘The sretute ofthe Repub aso recapitulate that ofthe Oday in
certain esenal respec: see Howland 1993, 47-54
"Lowsas (1990, $1) notes that the Anabasr relates a journey that
begins and ends inthe vicinity of Sardis, and the last words ofthe
book, “Thbron went to war against Tassaphernes and Pharmaba-
‘us” (728), reall the protest of making war agaist Tisaphernes
that Cys use a cllet his army a the very bepinning of the work
(1s)
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission,‘American Political Science Review
orienting assumption that the tyrant (or the Persian
equivalent, the oriental despot) is the happiest of men.*
This assumption is in the first place made by Cyrus,
whom Xenophon represents as exercising absolute
power and acting with license. Like the possessor of
Gyges’ ring, Cyrus sleeps with a married queen, takes
what he wishes through violence, and puts to’ death
whomever he wants (1.2.12, 19-30). As if to under-
score what is revealed in’ these deeds, Xenophon
quietly alludes to two myths that caution against hu-
bris—the flaying of the satyr Marsyas by Apollo and
the story of Midas—just before and just after mention-
ing that Cyrus was said to have slept with the Cilician
queen (1.28, 13-14; on the greed of Midas, cf. Aristo-
te, Politics 1257b). Such allusions would find a recep-
tive audience among Athenian readers, whose under-
standing of the Persians was decisively shaped by
Aeschylus’ depiction of Salamis and Plataea as the
‘outcome of hubris nurtured by tyranny and luxury
(Persians 800-42). Xenophon deliberately builds upon
Aeschylus’ politically foundational muthos, within
which Greek freedom and independence come to light
as the antithesis of the Persian character.* By making it
clear in his “eulogy” that Cyrus’ tyrannical character
‘was an outcome of his education (1.9), Xenophon in
If Cyrus believes that tyranny is the most desirable
life, he also supposes that the summit of tyrannical
power, and so the apex of happiness, is achieved by the
Persian emperor. To judge by its frequent appearance
in the dialogues of Plato, this assumption is a common-
place in the Greek cities as well (Sophist 230d-c;
Gorgias 470c; Apology 40d~e). For their part, the
Greek mercenaries who join Cyrus’s expedition sup-
pose that the best things in life may come from being
Useful to a tyrant. Not surprisingly, in the first part of
the Anabasis the Greeks act like nothing so much as a
band of thieves. The army is a nest of quarreling
factions, divided according to the home cities of the
soldiers, and is composed of the kind of men who are
ready to stone their own commanders when it seems to
suit their self-interest (cf. 1.5.11~7 with 1.3.1-2).!' In
these respects, the situation at the beginning of the
Anabasis reminds one of the quarrelsome condition of
the Greek army at the beginning of the Mad. By the
The rant ules persons who regard themsches a citizens entitled
toa share in political power, whereas the despot rules pers "ore
slavish in thetr characters than Greeks." for which reason “they
Up with a masters rule [tm desoaken archon} without sey -wl
(Aristo, Poles 1288a20-23). Yet, Persian rule seems t0 be
‘despotism ony in name: Although even Cyrus i refered to a the
save” of Artaerses (1.9.29, 2.38), he is an awiling one
* Compare Xenophon’ ematk tothe assembled soldiers, "You bow
‘down fo no human being as maser, but rather tothe gods” (32.13,
th Peraans 241-2: "Who ist that is shepherd and master over theif
“my? They the Greeks are slaves to no man, nor ae the subjects
"The common assumption that Xenophon alias Cyrus (see, 8
Delebecque 1947, 97) undermined by the contradiction between
his apparent praise in 19 of Cyrus's education and character and
what e has plainly indicated in his prior account of Cyrus's deeds.
"N'The army 5 composed not so much of Grecks as of Thessalians,
Bocotans, Megarian, Arcadians. Achains, Lacedaemonians, and
Athenians; as ach, it fe a minatre image Of Hellas in is rvalres
tnd jealosis (Delebeeque 1947, 47-8)
Vol. 94, No. 4
same token, the obedience of the men in book 1—ike
that of the Achaean soldiers in Homer's lliad—is won
not by an appeal to the common good but by promises
Of increased personal wealth or power and by harsh
discipline (or the threat thereot)."?
Tn certain respects, Xenophon suggests, the army
begins to undergo a transformation after Cyrus's death
at the end of the first book. Yet, he also makes it clear
that the army remains fragmented in a way that leads
directly to even greater danger. Before Cyrus's death,
the army functions simply as a mercenary band: its goal
is determined by Cyrus, in whose pay it labors. After
‘Cyrus's death, it can no longer function in the same
way, for it is no longer in the employ of anyone. Unlike
‘other armies in normal conditions, including those
made up of citizen-soldiers, the Greek soldiers are now
entirely independent and must henceforth determine
their own goals. They are in this sense “a city on the
move” (Cawkwell 1967, 55; Dalby 1992, 17), a “quasi
epic warrior band” (Dillery 1995, 76), like that of
Odysseus and his men on their way home from Troy.
What is more, because the immediate danger to the
Greeks increases with the death of Cyrus, the soldiers
begin—at least intermittently—to recognize a new kind
of authority. In particular, Xenophon writes that
Clearchus, a notoriously harsh Spartan officer, is now
willingly obeyed as the supreme commander because
the soldiers “saw that he alone knew what sorts of
things a leader ought to do, while the rest [of the
generals] were inexperienced” (2.2.6). As the sequel
‘makes clear, however, some men must even in these
perilous circumstances be compelled to obey.
Clearchus knew from experience how to employ a
mixture of shame and force in motivating the troops.
He shamed men into working harder by jumping into
the mud himself when it was time to make bridges; at
the same time, he commanded with a spear in one hand
and a stick in the other, dealing blows whenever he
found someone shitking (2.3.11-3).
In spite of Clearchus’ leadership, “normal” merce
nary disunity persists in the army even after the death
‘of Cyrus. Most important in tis regard isthe perceived
treachery of Meno. When Cyrus is killed, Ariaius, a
Persian commander who was fighting alongside the
Greeks, abandons them and flees with his men. Meno
later eaves the rest of the army and stays with Ariaius
(2.2.1). Clearchus, who had quarreled earlier with
Meno (1.5.11-7), suspects that Meno is scheming to
hand the Greeks over to Tissaphernes, a deed that
would not be out of character for him’ (25.27-9; cf
2.621-9). This is the bait Tissaphernes uses to trap the
Greek commanders: He states that, if Clearchus will
come to him, he will reveal those who are attempting
by slander 10 undermine the position of the Greeks
25.24-6). Meno's apparent treachery and Clearchus’
7 Cearchas ponshed Wis wen severely, in accordance with the
maxim that “the soldier ought o fear hs commander more than the
“On the use of promises of weal and power, cf.
USI and 14.11-3 with 1 13-6land 172-9. Noe that the band of
icvesfurites the model foe polities acoeding to Thrasymachos
(Republic SA Hc. 3510)
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission,‘Xenophon’s Philosophic Odyssey: On the Anabasis and Plato's Republic
imprudent desire for revenge thus lead almost directly
to the complete destruction of the Ten Thousand.
‘The mercenaries’ initial assumption about the profit
to be gained in associating with a tyrant is refuted—
practically, if nt theoretically—by the death of Cyrus,
whose head and hand are stuck on pikes by his brother
(1.10.1), and by the subsequent betrayal, torture, and
bocheading of the five main Greek commanders. After
these murders, at the end of book 2, the title of
Xenophon's book takes on a different color. The goal
of the Ten Thousand is now, first and foremost, simply
tosurvive; with respect to the well-being of their bodies
and souls they have nowhere to go, soto speak, but up.
Tenow seems that the genitive Kurou in the tile Kurow
Anabasis i to be read not subjectively but objectively
the story is no longer one of Cyrus's ascent but of an
ascent occasioned by Cyrus and his failed quest for
power. Even more inviting is the possibility that Xeno-
phon may mean something lke ascent from (i.e., above
‘or beyond) Cyrus, an interpretation that applies well (0
the story of his own development as a nontyrannical
ruler.” The ascent of the community of the Ten
‘Thousand from disintegration and death occurs under
the leadership of Xenophon, who, having watched and
learned from the strengths and shortcomings of Cyrus,
Clearchus, Proxenus, and Meno, rises suddenly to &
position of command. Xenophon’s political ascent goes
hand in hand with the moral and psychological renewal
of the community of the Ten Thousand. The turning
point of perpeteia forthe Ten Thousand occurs in book
3, inthe course of the frst, fitful night after the murder
‘of the Greek commanders
‘Community
Before book 3, Xenophon mentions himself by name
‘only more or less in passing (1.8.14~7, 2.4.15, 25.37—
42), I is at the beginning of book 3 that he chooses to
speak more fully about himself and the events leading
up to his journey into Asia, including in particular his
consultation with Socrates. The mention of Socrates
prepares us to hear the peculiar resonance of his
language. Xenophon begins book 3 by observing that
the Greeks were “in great perplexity” (3.1.2). The word,
he uses is aporia, which literally describes a condition
of seeing “no way out”; it is also the hallmark of a
philosophical encounter with Socrates (Xenophon,
1959, Memorabilia 3.10.7, 4.4; cf, Plato 1979-82,
Theaetetus 149a). Separated from theit homeland by
the impassable Euphrates and Tigris rivers and by a
distance of more than ten thousand stades, surrounded
by enemies, and without horsemen, a market, or a
guide, all of them, including Xenophon, were demor-
alized or “spiritless” (ahumds: 3.1.3). Few of them ate
oor kindled a fire that night, and many, not even coming
into the camp, just lay down by themselves wherever
they happened to be. In sum, the army is at this point
nothing more than a disorganized mass of individually
helpless atoms.
Ch the example tanaion fas,
Smyth 1980, #1532.
880,
“When the time of perplexity [aporia] came,
phon continues, he himself was restless but did manage
to catch some sleep (3.1.11). It is in fact a propitious
moment, if one considers that a confrontation with
death can sometimes give birth to unprecedented
insights. So it is with Xenophon, who dreams that
lightning from Zeus sets his father's house ablaze. To
Xenophon, this emphasizes the difficulties (aporin:
3.1.13) that face the Greeks and spurs him to action.
He awakens and rises to give three speeches. The first
is addressed to the captains (lochagoi) of Proxenus and
the second to all the surviving officers. In the course of
the second speech, Xenophon suggests a way to en-
courage the soldiers: “If we can tum their minds
around [irepsé(i) tas gndmas}, so that they may think
not only of what they are going to suffer but also of
what they are going to do, they will be in much better
spirits [euhumoteroi}” (3.141). Xenophon then is
elected a general (archdn) in place of Proxenus. The
last speech, which is addressed to the whole Greek
army, contains a radical plan of action and organization
that is ratified by a general vote, and it proves to be the
salvation of the Ten Thousand, Like the three waves of
book 5 of the Republic, Xenophon's three speeches
bring into being a new, saving regime (cf. Republic
497a) and introduce a leader Whose claim to rule is
bold intelligence.
‘The imagery Xenophon employs in his account of
this long night is both familiar and powerful. The
second speech, he tells us, takes place around mid-
night; the third, just as day is beginning to break
(3.1.33, 3.2.1). He describes a movement from dark to
light, from dreaming to wakefulness, from death to
renewed life, from passivity to activity,
to clarity, from perplexity to understanding. He deploys
terms and images that structure the action of the
Republic in general and the cave image and myth of Er
in particular, terms that are themselves borrowed from
the poetic tradition and the religious rites of mystery
initiation.'* Xenophon’s double task, moreover, resem
bles that of Odysseus: “to win his life [psyche, literal
soul] and the return of his companions” (Odpsse
to lead the way home from deep in hostile te
ion by
concentrating his energies in a way that also makes
Possible the achievement of his own identity (on the
Eonnecton between these two tasks in the Odjsey, see
Dimock 1974). Not surprisingly, the adventres ofthis
warrior band are several times expiily compared to
that of Odysseus and his men. Asif to make clear the
dependence of homecoming upon concentrated
thoughtfulness, the first reference to the Odyssey occurs
during Xenophon's first speech to the whole army,
‘when he adverts to the fate of the lotus eaters (Odyssey
9.94 fl), who ceased to think of their homeward
journey (3.2.25). The Anabasis and the Republic share
the same Homeric subtext (ef. Lossau 1990).
‘The regime brought into being by Xenophon’s three
speeches nonetheless originates in such a way as to
raise important questions about the nature and extent
On the turning ofthe sult whieh Nenophon speaks at 3.1.4,
Republic S181
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of justice in any possible regime. In the Republic,
Socrates suggests that the just community could come
into being if everyone over the age of ten left the city,
so that the as yet uncorrupted youth could be educated
to justice. In practice, however, forced expulsion would
be necessary, so that a massive act of injustice would be
required in order for the just community to come into
being (Bloom 1967, 409-10). For its part, the Anabas
supports this inference about the “Machiavellian’
foundations of the ostensibly just community. In the
city in deed of the Anabasis as opposed to the city in
speech of the Republic, accident substitutes for delib-
erate action in the foundation of the community.
‘Xenophon suggests that if men are taken deep into the
uncharted territory of a vicious enemy, if they face
overwhelming numbers, and if by some chance their
leaders are killed, then one of two things will happen:
They will either strain every nerve to work together as
4 team, always looking out for the common good, or
they will all dic a miserable death. The emergence in
the Anabasis of an orderly, unified, independent com-
‘munity, marked by high morale and a common sense of
Purpose, is thus made possible only by the brutal
murder of the Greek commanders—an injustice, we
may note, that is itself provoked by Cyrus's wrongful
attempt to overthrow a legitimate ruler. Insofar as the
existence of a well-ordered community (to say nothing
‘of a genuinely just community) depends on the prior
existence of injustice, however, the Anabasis teaches at
a minimum that such a community cannot deliberately
be brought into being without compromising its claim
to justice,
‘There is furthermore something Machiavellian in
the way in which Xenophon seizes the opportunity
presented to him by fortune. He appeals to external
pressure in order to accomplish reforms akin to those
brought about by the use of the Noble Lie in book 3 of
the Republic, which helps persuade the warrior class
that they must not possess private dwellings or private
property beyond what is strictly necessary (Republic
416d-417b). In book 3 of the Anabasis, Xenophon uses
the threat of imminent death—not a lie, but the
truth—to convince the Ten Thousand to adopt virtu-
ally identical recommendations. His main advice to the
soldiers is to throw away all the private wealth they
have collected by pillage and keep only the tools of
war, burn their tents and wagons; help the officers
administer punishment when it is merited; and march
together in a hollow square (3.2.27-32, 3.2.36~7). He
explains that this plan will allow the ‘army to move
more effectively, but one suspects that these measures,
like their counterparts in the Republic, are designed
also to help unily the army by keeping attention
focused on the common tasks of returning to safety.
‘They may assist in doing so by minimizing the tempta-
tion and the opportunity to act for private gain or to
divide into factions at the expense of the whole, by
ensuring that the soldiers will be always in the public
eye; and, insofar as individual soldiers, as in the
Kallipolis (Republic 464-465), will have a hand in
dispensing punishment, they will allow the troops to
Vol. 94, No. 4
satisfy their aggressive instincts in a way that will least
threaten the interests of the whole.
Be that as it may, iis striking that Xenophon cannot
prevent the soldiers from collecting animals, women,
and boys along the way, to such an extent that many
men are diverted from the task of fighting and the army
as a whole moves too slowly (4.1.12-4, 43.19). The
restrictions against accumulating goods that are not
essential to war are soon relaxed (if not altogether
abandoned), even though the danger faced by the army
hhas not significantly diminished; thus, the army at one
point seizes a load of “fine apparel and drinking cups”
from the Kurds (4.3.25). As will become still more
evident in the sequel, Xenophon’s attempts to subor-
dinate the private appetites of the soldiers to the
achievement of public good ultimately work no better
than the Noble Lie. Even in the Kallipolis, Socrates
finds it necessary to win the allegiance of the best
soldiers by rewarding them with frequent sex, choice
cuts of meat, and distinguished honors (Republic 459d
460b, 468-46; Howland 1998, 645-9). In these
respects, the spirited warriors of the Kallipolis—fike
the Ten Thousand—never quite cease to resemble the
selfinterested Greeks of the liad.
In accordance with Xenophon’s advice at the very
‘end of book 3, the army goes up into the mountains of
Kurdistan and through Armenia, toward the source of
the Tigris and the Euphrates. This geographical anaba-
sis in book 4 coincides with another kind of ascent: the
‘education and seasoning, through harsh experience, of
the Ten Thousand. During this part of the journey.
‘hich concludes when the Greeks reach the Biack Sea,
the army is compelled to make its way through snow-
covered mountain passes and to fight on a daly basis
st valiant foes, including Kurds, Chaldacans,
Taochians, Chalybeans, Phasians, Macronians, and
Colehians. Inthe end, no more than two-thirds of the
Greeks who began the expedition with Cyrus could
endure the extreme hardships of battle, frostbite, snow-
blindness, disease, and starvation so as to make it to the
sea.!* This extraordinarily tough regimen perhaps
serves to purge the weak and disorderly from the army.
At all events, it calls to mind the difficult education of
the souls and bodies of the Auxiliaries in the Republic,
who are compelled to confront many “labors, pains,
insofar as it seems in’ Xeno-
pphon’s initial estimation to provide an adequate tr
ing for citizenship. It is with the surviving soldiers, all
very fit [hikanous] through long practice,” that he
dreams of founding a city (5.6.15-6).
Disintegration
Book 4 is the central book of the Anabasis, and it
describes the period in the career of the Ten Thousand
in which the community achieves maximum order and
harmony. The unity in book 4 is sufficient to overcome,
at least temporarily, the extreme suspicion and hostility
between Athenians and Spartans that obtain after the
WALT IO, we are told that Gyrave Greeks number approximately
13a, A533 review a arms yields a count of AN,
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission,Xenophon’s Philosophic Odyssey: On the Anabasis and Plato's Republic
end of the Peloponnesian War and that erupt in the
subsequent books. The playful banter between Xeno-
phon and the Lacedaemonian Cheirisophus, for exam
ple (46.147), suggests remarkable confidence and
‘energy, a point underscored by the friendly rivalry in
Virtue described at 478-12 and especially by the
athletic games the Greeks hold to celebrate arrival at
the Black Sea (4.8.25-7). These exuberant contests put
‘one in mind of the games in which Odysseus partici
pates when visiting the Phaeacians (Odyssey 8.100 f.)
‘This parallel is confirmed by the remark of Leon the
Thurian at the very beginning of book 5, who now
proposes, since the Greeks have finally reached the
sea at the Greek city of Trapezus, “to cease from
twil...and to arrive in Hellas stretched out, like
‘Odysseus” (5.1.2). The allusion isto the journey from
the island of the Phaeacians to Ithaca, which is accom
plished while Odysseus sleeps in the boat (Odssey
13.75-124)8
In alluding to the beautiful city of the Phaeacians,
Xenophon also implicitly invites us to recall the noble
land. beautiful city of the Republic (Howland 1993,
52-3). But these allusions ultimately underscore the
‘evanescence of the dream of the ideal pois. Fist, the
island of the Phaeacians is not Odysseus’ final destina
tion; like the Kallipois its an unplanned detour from
the main path, No less important, the athletic contests
of spirited warriors in book 4 of the Anabasis bear at
least as much resemblance to the games in liad 23 as
to those in Odyssey 8. The former games provide only a
brief moment of relatively peaceful and well-ordered
competition in a world of chaos. In repeatedly compar-
ing the Ten Thousand to the quarrelsome warriors of
the lad, Xenophon never quite lets his readers forget
What he himself seems to have forgotten for a time.
Once at the Black Sea, the Grecks no longer have a
sense of immediate external threat. The beginning of
book S marks the start of a parabasis, a “going along”
the coast toward the Hellespont, which extends
through book 6. This geographical parabasis, however,
is concurrent with a moral and political katabasis. Leon
the Thurian’s remark isa sign that a decisive transition
has occurred, namely, the beginning of a return to
‘ordinary political reality from a brief period of extraoi
dinary order and unity. The remark is itself a virtual act
of rebellion: Leon announces publicly that he is tired of
discharging the duties of a soldier (Delebecque 1947,
56). Additional signs of disintegration appear almost
immediately. Liberated by the apparent lessening of
danger, the troops feel free to shout down Xenophon's
suggestion that they make contingency plans to go by
road (5.1-13-4). Xenophon finds it necessary to warn
them about keeping good discipline, and he repeats
this warning after some soldiers are killed while pil
ing (518-9, 5.4.20). He nonetheless begins to dream
of founding a “great” city (5.6.15-6; cf. 64.1-6)
Because this dream contrasts starkly wit the emerging
politcal situation, it further emphasizes for the reader
a with Scheria, the island of the
PPhacaccians, and notes the parallel between the games in both txts
(Lomas 190,47),
‘oma ako dents Traper
882
December 2000
the incomplete, fragile, and ephemeral nature of the
‘order and unity achieved in book 4.
It is in fact Xenophon’s Platonic ambition to craft a
city from an army that brings him afoul of the soldiers:
in confiding his dream, he falls vitim to the greed of a
seer, Silanus, and of two rival officers, Timasion and
‘Thorax (5.6.17-26). For the first time, Xenophon is
obliged to defend himself against accusations before
the assembled troops (5.6.27), and he must do so again
when the soldiers, reacting to slander against him
spread by another officer, threaten to stone their
‘commanders (5.7.1-33). Book S concludes with a pub-
lic serutiny of the behavior of the generals,
to the Athenian practice of euthuna, or publ
ing after a term in office. For the third time, Xenophon
must undertake an apologia in the face of publi
accusations of injustice (5.8.1-26). The three defensive
speeches in book 5 seem to present a reverse image of
the three speeches by which Xenophon unites and
energizes the Ten Thousand in book 3
‘The situation parallels Socrates’ account of the
inevitable decline of the Kallipolis in book 8 of the
Republic, which begins, pethaps not coincidentally,
with a reference to the burning of the Achacan ships by
the Trojans in the Mad (Republic S45d-e; ef. Had
16.112 with Bloom 1968, 467 n. 4). Socrates explains
the emergence of timocracy as the outcome of a
quarrel between aristocrats and oligarchs, or lovers of
Virtue and lovers of money; these are precisely the
terms in which Xenophon presents his confit with
Silanus, Timasion, and Thorax (cf. his references at
5.6.21 to what is “noblest” [kallista] and “best” [arsta},
together with 5.6.18, 56.21, and 5625-26)" The
‘compromise that results from this quarrel is a regime
ruled by war-lovers who secretly covet gold and silver
(Republic 547c-S48b). This isa fairly good description
Of the orientation of the Ten Thousand after they have
been liberated from the fear of imminent death,
‘The parabasis along the Black Sea continues in book
6, toward the end of which the Spartans take control of
the army (6.6.5). In book 7, the story returns in more
than one sense to the place from which it began, As
noted above, the conclusion of the Anabasis finds
Xenophon in Pergamus, near Sardis, the city where
Cyrus collected his troops and from which the march
up country began (7.8.8; 1.2.5). More important, a new
Cyrus comes into the picture in book 7. The remaining
Greek force, now numbering 6,000 (7.7.23), is for the
second time employed by a barbarian prince, Seuthes
the Thracian. He proposes to use Greek mercenaries
for the same purpose that Cyrus had in mind, namely,
to conquer a kingdom that he regards as rightfully his
(7231-4). Like Cyrus, Seuthes lives by plundering his
‘own lands (7.2.34). Like Cyrus, he wins the allegiance
of the Greek troops by making promises of pay and
territory that he ultimately cannot (or will not) fulfill
(cf. 1.2.36-8 with 754-5 and 7.7.48-S7; 1.2.11, 13.21,
1.4.13, 1.7.5-8). Most important, he is, like Cyrus, @
tyrant. Under his rule, the lot of the Thracians is
17 Kenophon is nonctcles no imsemlive to the atractions of mone
‘asin ler from hs robbery ofthe Pein Aut (7822-3,
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.‘American Political Science Review
slavery (douleia); they are “subjects” (hupékooi) who
‘obey him only out of necessity and who would attempt
‘once again to become free were it not for their fear of
him (7.7.29, 7.7.32). Cyrus punishes “most mercilessly”
(qpheidestata: 1.9.13), and Seuthes kills “without
mercy” (apheidds: 7.4.6); both men inspire fear in those
they wish to rule by burning the land (1.4.10; 7.4.1,
745),
Xenophon's narrative comes full circle: It returns in
the last book of the Anabasis to a world governed by a
tyrant and guided by the assumption that such a man
must be the happiest of human beings. This circularity
emphasizes the intransigence of political reality and
places in the broadest perspective the political signifi-
cance of the adventures of the Ten Thousand. Xeno-
phon makes it clear that what came into being all too
briefly in the Anabasis was, after all, neither a full
fledged city nor a truly just and well-ordered commu-
nity, although it was as well ordered, and reflected as
‘much devotion to the common good, as any political
community we are likely to encounter in the annals of
history. AAS in the Republic, the ideal city—a city in
which human beings are devoted to the common good
at all times, not just when exigency compels such
devotion, and in which the common good transcends
mere self-preservation—must ultimately _ remain
merely the wish of good men (cf. Republic 592a-b).
‘The Anabasis, like the Republic, lets us see the limits of
politics.
XENOPHON'S PHILOSOPHICAL COURAGE
‘The Anabasis shows that the well-ordered community
of the Ten Thousand comes into being only through
Xenophon’s own activity as a political founder and
ruler. In the Republic, Plato makes it clear that the
paradoxical figure of the philosophical ruler must be
understood in terms of the relationship between thu-
mos and erds. It is this seemingly vexed relationship
that stands at the center of the Republic and, I submit,
of the Anabasis as well.
Xenophon begins to speak about himself in the first
portion of book 3, immediately after describing, at the
very end of book 2, three of the Greek leaders mur=
dered by the Persians. This is a clear invitation to the
reader to compare his nature with the very different
natures of Clearchus, Proxenus, and Meno. In whi
follows, I propose to show that the contrast between
Xenophon and these three companions may best be
understood in terms of Socrates’ characterization of
philosophical and nonphilosophical souls in the Repub-
lic, Although Xenophon provides no explicit discussion
in the Anabasis of the nature of the soul in itself, his
description of his three companions answers to'the
account of the tripartite soul Socrates sets forth in
book 4 of the Republic, and his actions in book 3 of the
Anabasis seem to amplify and develop an important
Socratic hint about the difference between political and
philosophical courage (Republic 430c).
The Anabasis tells the story of the emergence of a
philosophical ruler. Xenophon’s leadership in the army
{s philosophical because it is informed by the knowl-
Vol. 94, No. 4
edge of that which lies beyond the horizons of nomos
(custom or convention) and because itis oriented by a
‘g00d that is transpolitical. Xenophon’s saving intelli
gence is first and foremost expressed in the speeches of
ook 3, speeches that give heart to the soldiers, estab-
lish good order in the ranks, and focus the energies of
the army on a well-defined goal and plan of action Yet
it is something more than intelligence that allows
Xenophon to find his voice in the fst place. As he
‘makes clear in the story of his dream “from Zeus,” he
is sustained in the moment of crisis by great courage. It
is his courage in the face of terrifying obstacles that
opens up a space within which calm and collected
reflection may occur. Courage is thus the indispensable
precondition for Xenophon’s philosophical rule. But
‘what is the nature of this courage?
In book 4 of the Republic, courage is “officially”
presented as the virtue of thumos, which stands in
between the appetitive (epithumétikon) and calculative
(lgistikon) parts of the soul (442b-c). Yet, this account
Of the soul is deficient to the extent that it abstracts
from the love of wisdom, which enters fully into
consideration only with the introduction of philosoph-
ical erds in book 5. Socrates indicates there is another
kkind of courage that transcends the “political” courage
described in book 4, and I believe Xenophon manifests
precisely this higher, philosophical courage. Political
courage consists in clinging fast to orthodox opinion
under adverse conditions and so exists only within the
horizons of nomos, whereas Xenophon's courage
‘comes into play in response to the destruction of these
very horizons. Also, Xenophon’s deeds in the moment
of crisis are not motivated essentially by the thumotic
longing for victory or honor or by indignation against
the Persians, Rather, the interior energy upon which he
draws is essentially erotic; one could just as well
say—following his suggestion that he is spurred to
action by a light from Zeus (3.1.12)—that he is drawn
by it, Furthermore, Xenophon’s philosophical erds
orders and guides his soul as a whole; hence his
response to the dream is simultaneously spirited and
intelligent, passionate and reflective. This complexi
reflects the saving integrity of his psyche, which he
pointedly displays in book 3 against the backdrop of the
three partial or fragmented characters he describes at
the very end of book 2. Finally, Xenophon’s introdue-
tion of Socrates at the beginning of book 3 is meant to
clarify the philosophical origins of his exempls
wholeness. In courageously saving himself and his
companions, Xenophon displays in deed the Socratic
wisdom he first acquired through speech.
‘Xenophon could not have predicted that his journey
away from home and hearth would bring him back to
his intellectual father. The circularity of the Anabasis as
a voyage of self-discovery is described in a penetrating
epigram composed by Diogenes Laertius (1991) and
et forth in his Lives of Eminent Philosophers (2.58):
Not only on account of Cyrus did Xenophon go up [anebén]
into Persia,
But rather because he sought whatever path might lead up
[anodon) into the region of Zeus.
For, having shown that Hellenic deeds [Mellnika pragmata]
883
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were the outcome of his education paideia),
He recollected how noble and beautiful [alon} was the
‘wisdom of Socrates.
Diogenes situates Xenophon’s adventures in the
-Anabasis in the context of a journey of the soul, and he
Offers a matrix of pregnant oppositions within which to
consider the significance of this journey. Xenophon
seeks the way to “Zeus,” orto that which is highest and
best. He sets out for’ Asia thinking that Cyrus, the
political figure par excellence, may be the path to this
Zeus. His experiences, however, confirm the supreme
merit of the philosophical path of Socrates, a point
underscored by Diogenes’ rhetorical juxtaposition of
the phrases “region of Zeus” and “wisdom of
Socrates.” At the end of his journey, Xenophon is able
to sce in the clear light of hindsight what was already
there at the beginning: His practical experience, includ-
ing moments of failure as well as success, allows him
fully to appreciate the excellence of his Socratic edu:
cation (Bruel! 1987, 111-4; Higgins 1977, 91
deed, in looking back Xenophon sees, not
hilosophia (love of wisdom), but his noble and beau-
tiful sophia (wisdom). Paradoxically, he recognizes that
his quintessentially Hellenic political deeds are the
‘outcome of Socratic, philosophical speeches. Finally,
Diogenes leaves it open whether Xenophon reaches
the goal of his journey in doing great deeds or in
achieving the wisdom that comes to him through
reflecting on the significance of his actions. The same
ambiguity is present in the image of Xenophon as a
sitting eagle that comes to him as an omen from Zeus
at the outset of his voyage (6.1.23). The eagle is the
king of birds and the sign of Zeus, but sitting or
standing sil isthe posture of philosophical meditation
(. Plato, Symposium 174d-175b, 220-d),
Diogenes’ insights into Xenophon are borne out by
the text of the Anabasis. Let us first consider the
inception of Xenophon’s odyssey as related at the start
Of book 3. After an introduction that is both classical
and biblical in wording (“There was in the army a man
named Xenophon, an Athenian”), Xenophon tells us
that he received a letter from his friend Proxenus,
inviting him to accompany the Greek mercenaries and
offering to introduce him to Cyrus, “whom he [Prox-
‘enus] himself, he said, believed to be better [breitd,
literally: stronger] than his own fatherland {tés pasn
dos)" (3.1.4). A few pages earlier, Xenophon offers a
eulogy of Proxenus that begins by stating he was
someone who, “ever since his youth, longed to become
a man capable of doing great deeds” (2.6.16). To this
end, he studied with the sophist Gorgias, after which,
“thinking that he was capable of ruling,” he went to
Cyrus, with whom “he believed he would acquire a
‘great name, and great power, and many possessions”
2.6.7). Xenophon does not tell us what his own
motives were in wishing to join Proxenus, but it is
evident that he, t00, sees in connection with Cyrus
Something that seems to promise more than both
Athens and Socrates can offer him. He chooses to g0
with Cyrus despite Socrates’ warning that doing so will
anger the Athenians, inasmuch as Cyrus had “eagerly
884
December 2000
joined with the Lacedaemonians in making war against
“Athens” G.15).
has been argued that Xenophon, unlike Proxenus,
‘was “not interested in ruling” and joined Cyrus not out
of “any love of the political life” but for “frankly
utilitarian considerations,” namely, “as a means of
gaining wealth and, perhaps, a safe haven in a world of
2 considerable amount of turmoil.” From this point of
view, Xenophon was “more or less compelled to take
an interest in political rule [after the death of Cyrus), if
‘only to save himself along with his fellow Greeks”
(Ruderman 1992, 129-30). Xenophon’s motivation in
joining Cyrus was not that of Proxenus, but the latter
{nerpretation does not square completely with what i
revealed in the Anabasis. Xenophon consistently man-
ifests an interest in power that seems 10 be at least
partly philosophical, as well as a desire to become
Involved in important decisions.
Just before the battle of Cunaxa, Cyrus goes out in
front of his army to survey the situation, and Xenophon
rides out to ask whether he has any orders to convey
(18.147). Strictly speaking, this is unnecessary, since
Gyrusis surely capable of giving orders on his own or of
making it known that he desires to do so. What is more,
Xenophon arguably oversteps his bounds: It would be
appropriate for Cyrus to convey any orders he might
have through an officer, whereas Xenophon is, as he
tells us later, “neither a general, nor a captain, nor a
soldier” (3.114). His gesture may indicate a desire to
serve the prince after the fashion of a lieutenant, or
‘pethaps he wishes simply to observe Cyrus more closely
0 as better to understand hi.
Subsequent passages confirm Xenophon’s interest in
participating in military and politcal decisions
(24.15-8, 2537-42), His thinking when he is offered
sole command of the army in book 6 reveals an
attraction to honor as well: “Xenophon in one way
desired these things believing both that greater honor
‘would come tobe his in the eyes of his friends, and that
his name would be greater when it should reach his
city, and also that he might chance to be the cause of
some good for the army” (6.1.20). Xenophon is
tempted above all by the teputation associated with the
position of plenipotentiary commander, although his
Special concern with how he is seen by his friends
indicates a more philosophical attitude toward honor
than that of the most ambitious political men (ef. the
discussion. in. Strauss. 1991, 88, of the contrast in
Xenophon’s Hiero (1956) between Hieto's desire to be
universally loved and Simonides' desire to be admired
by “the competent minority”). The “chance” that Xe-
nophon could benefit the army occurs to him almost as
an afterthought. On the negative side of the ledger,
moreover, Xenophon mentions only the possibility that
hhe might lose the reputation he has already acquired
(64121)
in sum, Xenophon suggests that he goes with Cyrus
because he is drawn to the splendor and honor of the
political ie (ef. Brucll 1987, 111; Higgins 1977, 91).
Following Diogenes, however, we may suppose that his
attraction to politics is more open-ended or experimen-
tal than that of Proxenus, and he is motivated essen-
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission,American Political Science Review
tially by the possibility that along this path he may
discover that which is highest and best. This under-
standing of Xenophon's initial motivation helps make
sense of his behavior with respect to Socrates. Xeno-
phon responds to Proxenus’ invitation the way any
ambitious young man would: He ignores the sober
advice of his “father” concerning pethaps the most
important decision he will ever make. Socrates tells
hhim to consult with the Delphic oracle, but Xenophon,
having already decided to go, asks only about the god
to whom he should sacrifice in order that his journey
might be a success; the answer is Zeus (3.1.5, 6.1.22)
As is appropriate in a story about crossing the thresh-
(old of maturity and independence, Xenophon’s head-
strong decision coincides with the loss, to him, of his
intellectual father: Socrates is executed while he is
away."
‘With respect to the difference between Socrates and
Xenophon, Strauss (1975, 124) observes that “Xeno
pphon was a man of action: he did the political things in
the common sense of the term, whereas Socrates did
not, but Socrates taught his companions the political
things with the emphasis on strategy and tacti
Strauss (p. 139) asks: “Does not knowledge of rule
need some iron alloy, some crude and rough admixtur
in order to become legitimate, i.., politically viable’
Xenophon’s departure from ‘Athens stems from his
ionging for important action, and it is the spritedness
intrinsic to this longing that adds iron to his Socratic
awareness.” Yet, Xenophon’s journey follows a pat-
tern already established by Socrates. It is no accident
that his odyssey begins from Delphi—and, in a deeper
sense, from the repetition (through the dream sent by
Zeus) of the opportunity to encounter the sacred that
he effectively avoids at Delphi—for Delphi is the origin
‘of Socrates’ own Heraclean philosophical labors or
wanderings (cf. 62.2 and 6.2.15 with Plato, Apology
22a).
‘One thing Xenophon brings with him to Asia isthe
Socratic openness that makes genuine learning possi-
ble, He accordingly writes the Anabusis as if it were a
record not only of events but also of his realization of
the significance of these events. This is especially
Apparent in his description of Clearchus, Proxenus, and
Meno, which is offered immediately before he goes on
to speak at length about himself (2.5.1-29). These men
are all warriors by nature, which isto say that they all
exemplify thumos, the goals of which are identified by
Socrates as “the satisfaction of honor, victory, and
The los of his fatherland, as
Socrates seems to have warned (315): he is ultimately ealled from
‘Athens (52.7), although scholars dsagree as vo whether the reason
‘ass Service to Cyrus o othe Spartan King Agesaus (Anderson
1994, 147-9; Higgins 1977, 22-4)
"The line between exis and thamos becomes blurred insofar as
spintednes itn a sitong erate attraction. Consier the sory
‘of Episthenes, a lover of bays who appears before Seutbes in an
Sitempt to spare the ile of = young prsoncr of war. Xenophon
lnercedes, cing Episthenes’ pst bravery inthe company of hand-
Some young men; Eisthenes then ofrs his nn hfe im exchange fot
‘that of the prisoner (77-11). He exemplifies on the level of
‘ordinary experience the spntednes intrinsic o Xenophon s extraor
‘inary, philosopher.
Vol. 94, No. 4
anger” (Republic S861). Yet, each represents a dis-
tinct inflection of thumotic ambition, answering to the
three parts of the soul and city distinguished in book 4
of the Republic (440e—441a). Meno’s thumos is associ-
ated with epithumia or appetite, the lowest level of the
soul, and is directed at material gain, the object of the
lowest part of the city: “It was clear that he strongly
desired [epithumén} to be rich, that he desired [epithu-
mon} to rule so that he might get more, and desired
{epithumén] to be honored in order that he might gain
more” (2.6.21; cf. Aristotle 1979, Nicomachean Ethics
1159a17-21). Clearchus stands at the second level of
the soul and city. He was, as it were, pure thumos: A
harsh and vengeful man, he was “warlike and a lover of
war to the ultimate degree” (2.6.1), and his aim was
victory for its own sake. Proxenus embodies the highest
part of the soul as it is understood in book 4 of the
Republic, ot before the introduction of philosophical
intelligence in the third wave of book 5; at this stage of
the dialogue, the ruling part is identified simply as
logismos, or “calculation” (4394). Proxenus effectively
ppt his trust in logos, insofar as his primary preparation
for rule consisted ‘in studying with the rhetorician
Gorgias (2.6.16-7). He was a gentleman who desired
above all the splendor of virtuous accomplishment: He
sought great honor, power, and wealth, but “he thought
that it was necessary to obtain these things with justice
and nobility, but without them, not {to obtain them] at
all” (26.18; ef. Republic 443)
tis important to reiterate that Meno, Clearchus,
and Proxenus exemplify the parts of the soul or cit
‘only as these are understood before the introduction of
philosophy as a ruling principle in book 5 of the
Republic. Each man is therefore in his own way defi-
cient, both with regard to the order and integrity of his
soul ‘and with regard to the insight necessary for
leadership at the highest level. It is philosophical erés
that binds the parts of the soul together into @ well-
ordered whole (cf. Republic 485a~487a), and it is
philosophical insight that alone makes possible inde-
pendent and authoritative judgment in situations of the
most extreme exigency.
Let us again consider each of the three deceased
‘commanders. Meno was ruled by an appetite for wealth
unconstrained by justice or piety (26.21, 26). He
prided himself on taking advantage of those who
‘considered him a friend, and he sought to win the
allegiance of his soldiers by participating in their
‘wrongdoing (2.6.23-7). As already noted, Meno’s di
sive behavior had made Clearchus suspicious and so
helped Tissaphernes lay a trap for the Greek com-
manders. Whereas the Vicious Meno was ineffective at
winning the trust of decent men, the virtuous Proxenus
had the opposite problem: “He was able to rule
gentlemen [kalén men kai agathdn}, but was not capa-
ble of putting respect or fear of himself into the
soldiers” (2.6.19) Proxenus relied too much on the
power of specch to guide men; by the same token, he
5 Men, too, had bea a student of Gorgias (Pato, Meno Tle-d), a
fact that speaks tothe moral indeterminacy and incompleteness of
sophistry m compathon with Xenopbon's Socratic education.
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.Xenophon’s Philosophie Odyssey: On the Anabasis and Plato's Republic
cared too much what others said and thought about
him. On the one hand, he believed that the obedience
of the men he commanded could be won by praise and
blame alone; on the other, he feared incurring the
hatred of his soldiers (2.6.19-20). With regard to
Clearchus, Xenophon notes laconically that “it was si
that he did not very much like to be ruled by others”
(2.6.15). Thumos, however, is properly ruled by philo
sophical intelligence, and itis the lack of such ruling
intelligence in Clearchus that leads directly to the
murder of the Greck generals. Like the Guardians
whom Socrates distinguishes from the Auxiliaries at
the end of book 3 of the Republic, Clearchus was both
older than the other generals (he was “about fifty years
old” when he died, 26.15) and was characterized by
great courage (cf. Republic 412c-e). Civic or political
courage is the power to hold fast to governing ortho-
doxy, much as well-dyed wool keeps its color even
under the most adverse conditions (Republic 42%d—
430e). Clearchus exemplified this kind of courage both
in exhibiting bravery in the face of danger and in
clinging to the ways and customs of his homeland. In
particular, he was very pious; he even left an important
‘meeting with the ambassadors of Artaxerxes in order to
attend to the sacrifices (2.1.9). It was precisely this
piety, however, coupled with his thumotic desire for
revenge against Meno, that blinded him to the trap set
by Tissaphernes. It did not occur to him that Tissa-
hermes swore a false oath of friendship, or that he was
lying when he denounced those who'are willing to
perjure themselves before god (2.5.3, 2.521).
Whereas the ill-fated generals embody the three
pparts of the soul in abstraction from philosophical erds,
Xenophon exemplifies the power of erds to unify and
‘guide the psyche. He underscores the essential differ-
fence between himself and the three generals in subtle
ways. At 23.16, in the context ofa discussion of edible
plants that cause headaches (kephalaiges), he observes
that the whole palm tree withers when its pith—the
part of the tree that is “in its head” (ho engkepha-
Jos) —is removed. This observation anticipates the Per-
sian strategy of femoving the heads or leaders of the
army so as to destroy the whole (3.2.29). But this
remark also appears to be a pun on the name of the
Republic's Cephalus, the head of a family and father of
Polemarchus and Lysias: The pious Clearchus, we are
‘meant to see, is the Cephalus of the Anabasis. In the
Republic, Socrates moves into the center of the discus-
sion when Cephalus goes off to sacrifice (331d). A
similar substitution occurs in the Anabasis when Xeno-
pphon, who ultimately becomes a “father” in the eyes of
his soldiers (7.6.38), takes over the role played previ-
ously by Clearchus and the other generals. Xenophon
alone is able to transcend the horizons of custom or
convention (nomos) that limit the vision not only of
Clearchus but also of Meno and Proxenus. Meno is
utterly conventional in his worship of wealth, and
Proxenus pursues the more respectable but equally
conventional goal of a good name. Having spent time
with Gorgias, Proxenus “straightaway believed [nomi-
‘sas hédé) that he was capable of ruling” (2.6.17). The
verb nomizein propery signifies belief in accordance
886
December 2000
with nomos. Proxenus accordingly puts his trust in the
‘g00d opinion of other men, and he regards the study of
logos not as a route to philosophic wisdom but as a
mere instrument for the acquisition of reputation and
power.
Xenophon stands apart from the three deceased
generals in that he is able to see beyond the horizons of
custom and convention and into that which is by
nature. His leadership reflects a knowledge of both the
nature of the human soul and the nature of political
community. His political intelligence furthermore re-
flects an integration of the three parts of the soul that
were separated in the personalities of his colleagues.
He combines the nobility of Proxenus with the tough:
ness of Clearchus, without forgetting the necessary
appetites that are so forcefully represented by Meno.
Xenophon's rhetorical strategy is not to dwell simply
"upon what is needed for survival; rather, he emphasizes
the nobility ofthe great deeds that the Greeks are now
called upon to perform (Ruderman 1992, 132). He
nonetheless leads with both eyes open, so 10 speak,
always keeping one eye on the noble and the other on
the necessary
‘Two examples of Xenophon’s open-eyed toughness
stand out. The first is his forceful suppression of
Apollonides, the man who objects to the plan of action
Xenophon proposes during his first speech to the
captains of Proxenus. Apollonides points out the over-
whelming advantage enjoyed by the Persians and re-
Gites the numerous difficulties (aporii) that confront
the Greeks (3.126). Xenophon quickly cuts him off
implies that he is both stupid and cowardly, declares
that he shames all of Hellas, and proceeds to suggest
that he be demoted and made to serve as a slave. The
result is that Apollonides is directly expelled from the
group (3.1.27-32). In this instance, Xenophon appeals
to the noble (the self-respect of his fellow Greeks) so as
to accomplish the necessary (the complete silencing of
negative Voices), and he does it all with Clearchean
ruthlessness. The political understanding displayed
here is profound: The freedom of speech that charac-
terizes the community of soldiers after Xenophon's
ascent (see esp. 4.3.10) is made possible only by the
prudent use of force to suppress dangerous speech at
the moment of founding" The second example of
Xenophon’s open-eyed toughness is his comment on a
guide who ran away after being beaten. Xenophon
points out that Cheirisophus struck the man but did not
tic him up afterward, and he quarreled with Cheiriso-
phus about “the i-treatment of the guide and the
carelessness” (4,63). We may infer from this that
Xenophon would not have beaten the man in the fist
place, but had he done so, he would have made sure to
tie him up.
‘Xenophon's philosophical transcendence of nomos
5S Kenophon's hank weatment of Apollonides and its uning
consequences are reminicent of Odyscus) leat response 10
ciiciams of Agamemnon by Theres during an early astmbly of
the troops (iad 2244-7, c.Dalby 1982, 2). Compare the joke by
Polemarchus about the use of free a the beginning ofthe Repube
(G27e)(Polemarchas jokes that sf Socrates not ling to join their
party he and his companions wil se force to compel hi 1 Jo 50).
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission,American Political Science Review
is also, and most important, the central theme of the
dream’ that comes to him’ at the time of greatest
perplexity. The dream seems to him a sign from Zeus,
asf in answer to his experience of aporia (3.1.2, 11). In
his own mind, the dream offers a second chance to
Jearn from an encounter with the sacred, which Xeno-
pphon was not ready to do when he went to Delphi but
for which he has perhaps been prepared by subsequent
angers and hardships. The connection between the
dream from Zeus and the oracle at Delphi is strength-
ened by the dream’s ambiguous character: Like an
oracle, it responds to an (unvoiced) question (“Seeing
no way out, what am I to do?”), which it “answers”
indirectly and only according to the manner in which it
is interpreted.”
The cream is simply this: “There was thunder, and
lightning fell on his father’s house, and as a result
everything was set ablaze” (3.1.11). The image conveys
Xenophon’s complete abandonment: He can expect
help from no city, no general, no teacher, and hence-
forth he must rely only on himself (3.1.14). On a deeper
level, the image reflects the collapse of the Greek
horizons ina strange and profoundly hostile world. The
very gods seem to have abandoned the Ten Thousand,
as the Persians have broken their oaths with apparent
impunity. Under such circumstances, the ways of one's
father—the “house” destroyed in the dream—can no
longer offer shelter and protection, The only hope lies
in building a new political dwelling from the ground up.
‘This task, which involves fashioning new nomi, calls
fora genuinely original or foundational intelligence. By
the same token, it also calls for a kind of courage that
is not defined by steadfast adherence to nomos.
Xenophon responds to the criss in a way that leaves
‘no doubt about his foundational intelligence. He suc-
ceeds in introducing a new goal forthe community (ie,
returning to Hellas, 32.26), passing new decrees (in-
cluding burning the wagons, tents, and superfivous
baggage, 3.227-8), establishing a new marching order
G.236), and awakening a new ethos of responsibilty
231). These saving deeds, however, are made pos-
sible by his extraordinary courage, the nature of which
comes into view in his immediate response to the
dream. One is especially struck by the optimism of
Xenophon’ frst thought upon waking: “He judged the
‘ream in one way good, because in the midst of labors
and dangers he seemed to see a great light from Zeus”
G.1.12). But because “the fire seemed to blaze all
about,” he was also “afraid ... est he might not be able
to escape from the King's country” (3.1-12). Although
the dream portends death, Xenophon seizes the inher-
ent promise of the moment. Lesser men might have
been blinded and paralyzed by the dream holocaust,
but this frightening vision affects him in exactly the
opposite way. In his remarkable interpretation, the
terrible fire becomes a meaningful sign from the high-
est divinity. Xenophon feels fear and is well aware of
The appearance ofthe character named “Apolloides” immedi
ately after the dream (31.26) reminds us ofthe god at Delphi and
tay further suggest that the dream i sto speak. the mask of
Apolo,
Vol. 94, No. 4
the dangers at hand; yet, his response to the dream is
‘ot courageous in any ordinary sense, because all that
sustains him is the “light” coincident with the destruc-
tion of the very horizons that inform political courage.
‘Zeus’ light, furthermore, signifies nothing more than
the promise of intelligibility; itis at best an invitation to
reflection, not an answer in itself. On the basis of this
promise alone, Xenophon regards the dream as a good
‘omen. His courage thus seems to be a function not of
thumos (as is political courage) but of his philosophical
rds: His interpretation of the dream manifests the
confidence he feels in his power to find a way out of
even the most challenging aporia
As the promise of intelligibility, the light from Zeus
ambiguously expresses both the power of Xenophon’s
intelligence and the intrinsic visibility of the solution to
the problem he confronts. Understood thus, Xenophon
begins to see the light from Zeus at the moment he
identifies divine illumination as the central feature of
the dream. It isin this light of intelligibility that he also
proceeds to interrogate himself. Xenophon’s intellec-
tual training comes to the fore when he responds to his
perplexity by initiating a process of Socratic question-
ing:
Why am I lying here?... If we fall into the king’s hands,
what prevents our secing all the most cruel sights, and
experiencing the most terrible sufferings, and being put to
death violently? No one is making preparations or taking
care as t0 how we will defend ourselves... What about
‘me? What general, from what city, do T expect to do these
things? What age am I waiting to attain for myself? For 1
will never be any older, if [give myself up this day to our
‘enemies (3.1.13-4).
AS this passage makes clear, it is through internal
dialogue that Xenophon is abie to arrive at an under-
standing of what must be done. To see in the light from
Zeus is thus to reflect upon perplexity after the fashion
Of Socrates, calmly and courageously pushing a line of
inquiry to its ultimate conclusions. This relentless
dialogical process burns away all that is inessential and
irrelevant so that the very heart of things is finally
‘exposed to view. It is this clear vision of the hard truth
that saves Xenophon and the Greeks
In the last analysis, the light from Zeus in which
Xenophon thinks his way out of aporia in the moment
of crisis bears a strong resemblance to the light of what
Socrates, in book 6 of the Republic, calls the Good. The
sunlike Good illuminates the path of philosophical
reflection, and it is the Good toward which the philos-
‘opher is drawn by his erds. Xenophon’s erds for what is
highest and best makes him receptive, in the dream
sequence, to an inner, guiding vision, much as Socrates
was guided by his daimonic sign (Xenophon, Memora
bilia 1.1.2; Plato, Apology 31d, 40a). And it is Xeno-
pphon’s philosophical divination of that which Socrates
calls the Good—"that which every soul pursues, and
for the sake of which it does everything” (Republic
BHT Xenophon i the “young man of 4.19 (as the contest may
suggest: cl 2415-8), be has already manifested the ability 10 ght
{ear with logic Compare Socrates easoning about death in Pa
Apology see
887
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission,Xenophon’s Philosophic Odyssey: On the Anabasis and Plato's Republic
‘S0Sd11-e1)—that directs him, in the end, to ascend
beyond politics by recollecting the noble and beautiful
wisdom of Socrates.
CONCLUSION: XENOPHON AND
SOCRATES
have attempted to show that Xenophon's Anabasis
‘can most fruitfully be read as a companion piece to
Plato's Republic, and I have suggested that Xenophon's
reason for writing in this manner was to engage Plato in
4 dialogue about the nature of Socratic philosophizing.
Plato's Republic presents paradox. It centers upon the
opposition between the thumos of the political man
and the erds of the philosopher, but the philosopher-
king of the Kallipolis is nevertheless supposed to
overcome this opposition. The Anabasis speaks to this
paradox by displaying the roots of Xenophon’s saving
Political leadership. Xenophon showed both spirited:
hess and courage, qualities that are ordinarily assigned
to thumos. My examination of the Anabass suggests,
however, that Xenophon's spiritedness is indistinguish-
able from his philosophical desire, and his courage is,
by the same token, a function of his philosophical erds
“The highest human souls, Xenophon suggests, are the
strongest and most resourceful ones, precisely because
they are most ardent inthe pursuit of wisdom. In them,
er0s binds together the parts ofthe soul and guides the
whole soul in such a way that the parts are transformed,
‘The vocabulary appropriate to speech about nonphilo-
sophical souls is no longer appropriate in the case of
someone like Xenophon. Socrates’ characterization in
the Republic ofthe role of thumos within the soul does
not apply to philosophical natures, in whom courage is
an expression of passionate intelligence or of the
energy with which the whole soul is drawn toward
wisdom.
Seen in the light of the Anabasis, the conflict be-
tween erés and thumos is not intrinsic to the Socratic
philosopher: iti rather a consequence of the fragmen-
tation of lesser psyehes. This insight makes it possible
to understand the relationship between. Xenophon’s
philosophical nature and his political activity. Although
his decision to go to Asia ison the surface a rejection
‘of Socrates’ abstention from what Strauss calls “the
political things in the common sense of the, term,
Xenophon does not, as Diogenes realized, go beyond
Socrates in the most fundamental sense. To “go be-
yond” Socrates in such a way as to become oneself isin
any case, as Kierkegaard (1985, 111) has suggested, the
quintessentially Socratic deed,
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