282 REVIEWS OF BOOKS
rejection of providence. At some junctures,
Mikalson unqualifiedly ascribes views to ‘the
philosophical tradition’ or to ‘the philosophers’
which are documented in one or two sources,
typically Plato (for example concerning curses,
54). In addition to the continuities charted by
Mikalson, it would have been interesting to accen-
tuate also those junctures at which different philo-
sophical thinkers and schools adopt different
approaches to popular institutions, values and
beliefs, and especially to ask why they diverge in
these ways. More generally, the bulk of the
monograph is taken up by expositions and juxta-
positions of philosophical sources and positions.
While these accounts are scholarly and astute,
Mikalson does not typically venture to analyse the
motivations and arguments which underlie the
philosophical positions in question or to engage in
depth with controversial problems of philo-
sophical interpretation. One notable exception to
this general preference for expository surveys,
however, is Mikalson’s bold and important
argument that modern scholars are wrong to
consider ‘proper respect’ (eusebeia) and ‘religious
correctness’ (hosiotês) as essentially synonymous,
and his speculations as to why Plato sometimes
includes the latter, but never the former, in lists of
virtues (especially 140–43, 167–73).
Lastly, as readers familiar with his work would
expect, Mikalson posits that Greek religious
agents clearly and consciously distinguished
between the popular, worshipped ‘gods of cult’
and the merely literary ‘gods of poets’. Along
with the ‘gods of philosophers’, these constituted
three different conceptions of the gods, or three
types of gods (especially 16–19). At no point,
however, does Mikalson offer substantial evidence
for the Greeks’ alleged widespread recognition of
these strict demarcations. He cites Posidonius’
comment that reverence concerning the gods has
been set out for us through three forms (eidôn) –
of nature (taught by philosophers), of poetic myth
and of civic nomoi (Aët. 1.6.9; Mikalson 17, n.57).
This remark, however, could hardly be generalized
across the board as the Greek view and, anyway,
does not amount to Mikalson’s distinctions
between three different types of gods. Mikalson’s
tripartite interpretive framework becomes
important, for example, with his thesis that Plato
employed his ‘philosophical gods’ to criticize
safely and openly ‘poetic gods’, while only
implicitly criticizing views of ‘the gods of cult’, so
as to avoid persecution (especially 238–39). To
take one example, however, consider Socrates’
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comment in Euthyphro 6a6–8 that his unwill-
ingness to accept certain accounts of the gods
incited the charges against him. Socrates directly
refers to Euthyphro’s immediately preceding
paraphrase of Hesiod’s Theogony (5e5–6a5) and
not, contra Mikalson’s suggestion (238), to the
warlike images on the peplos of Athena’s cultic
statue. Socrates subsequently mentions these
cultic images alongside poetic narratives about
warring gods, and – significantly – in no way
distinguishes qualitatively between the two
(6b7–c4). Again, in criticizing the largest portion
of humanity for believing that gods connive at
injustices in return for sacrifices and flatteries
(Leg. 12.948c4–7; see Mikalson 243), Plato is
overtly criticizing what Mikalson calls popular
religion.
These reservations notwithstanding, Mikalson
certainly offers us a scholarly and stimulating
focus on related but never previously juxtaposed
aspects of the ways in which Greek philosophers
engaged with the religious thought and practice of
their time.
SHAUL TOR
University of Cambridge
st354@cam.ac.uk
AHBEL-RAPPE (S.) Damascius’ Problems and
Solutions Concerning First Principles
(Religion in Translation Series). Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2010. Pp. xxx + 529.
£65. 9780195150292.
doi:10.1017/S0075426912001048
Damascius’ Problems and Solutions Concerning
First Principles must be one of the most
remarkable philosophical texts written in late
antiquity. It is a tour de force of Neoplatonic
metaphysics which critically examines concepts
such as the causality of a first principle in relation
to the plurality that derives from it, the processes
of remaining, procession and reversion, and the
relationship between being and knowledge (and
much, much more). Readers of English are
fortunate that Ahbel-Rappe has undertaken the
colossal task of producing the first English trans-
lation of this work. The translator is an expert in
Neoplatonism, and has previously published on
crucial aspects of Damascius’ thought, such as his
conception of the Ineffable (Reading
Neoplatonism (Cambridge 2000) chapter 9) and
the presence of sceptical vocabulary in his
writings (‘Scepticism in the 6th century CE:
 PHILOSOPHY
Damascius’ Doubts and Solutions Concerning
First Principles’, Journal of the History of
Philosophy (1998) 337–63).
The volume includes a ‘Prolegomenon’
(xiii–xxviii), ‘Abbreviations’ (xxix–xxx), an
‘Introduction to the life and philosophy of
Damascius’ (1–61), the translation itself with
accompanying notes (65–503), an English-Greek
glossary (505–11), a detailed bibliography
(513–22) and indices nominum et locorum
(523–29).
The ‘Prolegomenon’ is designed as ‘a reader’s
guide to the first centuries of the philosophical
movement we now refer to as Neoplatonism’
(xiii). It shows how Plotinus’ description of the
One as both a transcendent and an all-powerful
cause bequeathed a legacy of knotty problems to
his successors.
The ‘Introduction’ offers a broad, but not
exhaustive (Damascius’ treatise On Number,
Space and Time, preserved mainly in Simplicius,
is not mentioned, for example) survey of
Damascius’ life and his works, and is competently
executed overall. It includes a summary of the
main questions discussed in the Problems and
Solutions, and carefully sets out where Damascius
positions himself vis-à-vis Proclus and Iamblichus
(he often favours the latter’s views). The focus of
the ‘Introduction’ gradually shifts towards the
more religious elements in Damascius’ thought
(49–61) and includes an interesting discussion of
his use of the term ôdis to describe intellectual
‘labour pains’ (the pregnant use of the term at
3.90.21–91.8 would surely have merited some
discussion here, however). Other aspects of his
thought are explained less fully (such as his episte-
mology, only briefly touched upon at 23 and 35) or
less clearly (the discussion of the third hypothesis
in the Commentary on the Parmenides in
particular is difficult to follow; cf. 28–33) than
perhaps they should have been.
The translation itself is based on Westerink’s
Greek text; rare departures from it are signalled in
the notes. It reads well and generally brings the
reader very close to the meaning of the Greek.
Most helpful are the succinct summaries of the
argument at the top of each chapter (the translation
follows the divisions of Ruelle’s Greek text, based
on a 17th-century manuscript; unfortunately for
Thesaurus Linguae Graecae users, his page
numbers are not given). Some words of caution
are in order, however. Firstly, Greek terms are not
always translated with consistency. The key term
to hênômenon, which should appear as ‘the
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283
Unified’ throughout, as distinct from to hen, is
translated as ‘the One’ at 69 (1.4.24), for example;
and huponoia is translated variously as ‘imagi-
nation’, ‘speculation’ and ‘intuition’. Technical
distinctions, such as that between noêton (‘intelli-
gible’) and noeros (‘intellective’ or ‘intellectual’)
are blurred on a number of occasions, for example
at 233 (2.98.1), 373 (3.95.3), 375 (3.100.2).
Secondly, odd renderings (for example
‘qualified’ for pros ti, rather than ‘relative’, at
3.122.1.3; ‘intellect’ for noêsis 1.10.9) and
inexplicable omissions of words (for example
1.26.7: pantelôs; 2.1.13: tôn theôn; 3.111.1: kai
tois theois) are no rarity. Worse still, at least twice
entire pages of the Greek text are omitted from the
translation (1.27.12–28.11; 3.168–73) – without
any warning or explanation!
Thirdly, the translation uses square brackets to
indicate where English words have been added in
order to make sense of the Greek. Frequently, this
practice is either unnecessary (when it is obvious
what needs to be supplied) or misleading (when
what is supplied has little to do with the Greek).
Westerink-Combès’ French translation (L.G.
Westerink and J. Combès, Damascius: Traité des
Premiers Principes (Paris 1986–1991)) is much
more sparing with these brackets, and rightly so.
The notes could have been more helpful at
times; long stretches of Greek are not translated
(see, for example, 448, n.12), which is plainly in
conflict with the stated aim of wanting ‘to make
this text available to a wider range of English-
speaking readers’ (xxvii). Some difficult sentences
are not explained at all, as for example at 67 (1.3.2-
4): ‘the monad is all of number, even if it is
[number] as not yet enumerated (suneptugmenos)’
(tr. Ahbel-Rappe). I noticed numerous inaccu-
racies in the notes: on 427, n.57 C’s conjecture
hênômenôn is misreported as hênomenôn; on 436,
n.50 the Philebus quote is only partially translated;
the translation of the Plotinus quote on 439, n.39 is
shockingly careless; and so on.
On an even more pedantic note: the intro-
ductory material contains some factual errors
(Iamblichus was hardly ‘active ca. 245’ (xv),
although he is often thought to have been born
around that time; Proclus did not ‘coin’ (xxi) the
term ekphansis, ‘manifestation’, which was in use
well before his time), and the abbreviations and
bibliography many mistakes (for example
‘Damascius. 2002 [sic]-2003. Commentary on the
Parmenides. 4 vols. Text by Carlos Steel [sic]’
(xxix and 514), ‘Ecologae’ (xxx) ‘Iambilichus’
(514), ‘Aristotleles’ (522) vel sim.).
 284
In conclusion, while Ahbel-Rappe’s translation
is without a doubt an impressive feat of schol-
arship, it would have greatly benefited from
careful revision. Serious students of Damascius
will wish to keep their Budé close by.
SEBASTIAN GERTZ
King’s College London
sebastian.gertz@kcl.ac.uk
KONSTAN (D.) Before Forgiveness: The
Origins of a Moral Idea. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2010. Pp. 206.
£58. 9780521199407.
doi:10.1017/S007542691200105X
In Before Forgiveness, Konstan argues that the
modern conception of forgiveness did not exist in
classical antiquity. In chapter 1, he explains this
modern conception of forgiveness as a ‘bilateral
process involving a confession of wrongdoing,
evidence of sincere repentance, and a change of
heart or moral perspective – one might almost say
moral identity – on the part of the offender,
together with a comparable alteration in the
forgiver, by which she or he consents to forego
vengeance on the basis precisely of the change in
the offender’ (21).
In chapter 2, he argues that neither the Greek
sungnômê nor Latin ignoscere refer to this sense of
forgiveness. Rather, they refer to exculpation for
those who did something wrong but are not
responsible for it (since their actions were invol-
untary) or to a kind of exoneration (involving pity
or understanding) for those who acted under
conditions in which few, if any, could have acted
otherwise. In chapter 3, he argues that there is also
no sign (either in fictional or in rhetorical works)
of behaviour that would involve forgiveness in the
modern sense. These two chapters are full of
insightful discussions of a vast number of passages
in ancient writings, often offering highly inter-
esting interpretations (Konstan’s discussions of
Menander’s Samia and Perikeiromene are particu-
larly thought-provoking). The same strategy is
maintained in the discussion of the relevant
Biblical texts in chapter 4 and of numerous selec-
tions from the writings of the Church Fathers in
chapter 5. Konstan’s interpretations of the
meaning of apheis (forgiveness) in the relevant
passages of the Gospels of Luke, Mark and
Matthew are especially interesting since they
differ, in substantial ways, from the well-known
theses of Hannah Arendt (The Human Condition
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REVIEWS OF BOOKS
(Chicago 1998) 237). Contrary to Arendt, Konstan
argues that no full-fledged notion of forgiveness
can be found in the early Christian writings. In the
last chapter, Konstan discusses the first traces of
the modern conception of forgiveness as they
emerge in the early modern period, focusing
especially on the work of Bishop Butler.
Konstan’s main strength is his sensitivity to the
contexts in which the texts he discusses were
written and his resolve to avoid anachronistic
interpretations of ancient ethical ideas. However,
there are also some problems with his project.
First, it is unclear whether his conception of
forgiveness is in fact the modern conception of
forgiveness. Konstan does not provide much
evidence that we understand forgiveness
nowadays as he does (besides referring to the
recent work on forgiveness by Charles Griswold
on which he draws heavily, and to a few passages
in the Spanish penal law). One might object that
in the common usage ‘forgive’ has a much broader
meaning. The request ‘please forgive me, I didn’t
know what I was doing’ is (to us) perfectly intelli-
gible as a request for forgiveness (rather than
exculpation). Konstan offers no independent
reason to deny this (merely saying that this is not
a real case of forgiveness is clearly not enough).
One might also appeal to several recent accounts
of forgiveness that differ from Konstan’s. For
example, André Comte-Sponville (A Small
Treatise on the Great Virtues (New York 1996)
118–31) understands forgiveness as the giving up
of hatred on the part of the forgiver without
requiring any moral development or repentance on
the side of the one who is forgiven. Konstan does
not offer any argument to reject any such
competing modern account. But one might
wonder whether an account along the lines of
Comte-Sponville is not preferable: it is not clear
why forgiveness could not be given uncondi-
tionally.
Another problematic issue is Konstan’s
methodology. It might be worth investigating
how, for what reasons and for what purpose
forgiveness, as a moral concept, emerges and
changes in the history of moral thinking,
especially when there are different intuitions about
it. But Konstan does not provide a full systematic
treatment of such questions, though he assembles
a wealth of material from which such investigation
could begin. Instead, choosing one particular
conception (laden with complex moral and
theological vocabulary), he demonstrates that it
cannot be found in the classical era. This is a