Akropolis 3 (2019) 129-149

Marina Marren*

Seeing Oursel es in the Xenoi – ’s Warning to the Greeks

Abstract: In this essay about the story of in Plato’s , we focus on the crucial political message that the Atlantis tale contains. More precisely, we seek to respond to a question that may evade a completely satisfactory answer. The question is: Could Plato’s story of the rise and fall of Atlantis, in the Timaeus, be a warning tale to the Greeks of his own time? In order to root the inves- tigation prompted by this question in solid textual ground, we pay close attention to the framing of the Atlantis tale. In what follows, we analyze the series of substitutions (between mythical, ancient, and historical , i.e., Atlantis, , and Sais) that Plato uses as he seeks to bring his readers to a point from which we can assess the politics of ancient Athens – a that in Plato’s time stands on the brink of repeating the political blunders of the formerly glorious empire of the East.

Introduction

In the spirit of the tradition that takes Plato’s dialogues to be both works of literary genius and of philosophy, we pay careful attention to Plato’s narrative frames and to his choice of interlocutors in order to tease out the philosoph- ical and political recommendations that Plato has for his ancient readers and that his dialogues offer to us. To that end, in Section II, we focus on providing philosophically pertinent details related to the identity and ambitions of IV who, on our interpretation, is the narrator of the Atlantis story. Our view is contra Cornford, Burnet, and Sallis, but it is in agreement with Davies as well as with the commentaries of Proclus, according to which the narrator of the Atlan- tis tale is a member of the pro-Spartan tyranny of the Thirty. The Thirty Tyrants terrorize Athens in the aftermath of the .1 Mindful of Critias’

* Department of Philosophy, University of Oregon, USA ([email protected]) 1 Davies, Athenian Properties Families, 322 – 29, esp. 326; Proclus, The Commentaries, 59 – 71; Sallis, Chorol- ogy, 32; Cornford, Plato’s Cosmology, 1; Burnet, Greek Philosophy, 338; Nails remains undecided on the matter of whether it is the III or the IV Critias who is the interlocutor in the Timaeus and, hence, if we should trust the ancient or the modern commentators, calling it “an unsettled controversy” (The People of Plato, 106). Howland offers a summary of the debate pertaining to Critias’ identity (“Partisanship and the Work of Philosophy”, 2, nt. 5). 130 Marina Marren persona, we argue that the tale of Atlantis and of the people who overcome its fabled might is liable to excite an ostentatious patriotism of the sort that tyrants of different historical epochs adroitly use to their personal advantage. To bolster these claims, we turn to the Critias in order to support a further view that is conspicuously absent in the secondary literature. We argue that Atlantis is not vanquished by ancient Athens or that, at least, we should suppress our impulse to identify the people that defeat Atlantis with the Athenians of ’s or of Critias’ time. In this guise, the story of Atlantis, which we examine in detail in Section III, ceases to be an encomium to ancient Athens and becomes a sinister reflec- tion of the militaristic exploits of Athens. Our reading of the Atlantis story as Plato’s fiction finds support in Gill, Morgan, Naddaf, and Howland, among oth- ers. Gill sees the story of Atlantis as “a cautionary tale – and possibly a protreptic – for an Athenian audience.”2 Gill claims, as well, that we can understand Atlan- tis as “the dream or ideal Periclean Athens had about itself.”3 Also, Clay holds that Atlantis offers to Plato’s contemporaries a sort of “reflection in a distant mirror of imperial Athens at the end of the fifth century.”4 Howland concludes that “the story of the defeat of Atlantis has the tragic, timeless quality of an un- heeded warning.”5 As we understand it, the Atlantis tale is a warning against the pitfalls of that hubris, which fuels Athens’ rise to its imperial power. By the time that Plato’s contemporaries are receiving the message of the Timaeus, this hubris threatens to spell the demise of Athens and the rest of Greece. The story of Atlantis points beyond itself in two directions, i.e., to the recipients of the storied events – the Greeks – and to the affairs of the who, as Critias relates, have preserved it. Considering that by the time that Plato composes the Timaeus, is but an echo of its former pharaonic glory, we submit that it is possible that Plato’s mention of Egypt has as much to do with its ancient history and the meticulous records that the Egyptian priests at Sais manage to keep, as it does with the fact that, for all of its priestly wisdom, Egypt fails to hold on to its political power. Finally, in Section IV, we compare the fates of the two historical peoples – the Egyptians and the Greeks against the backdrop of the Persians. The reason for bringing in the latter is twofold. First, the role of Athens in the Greek victory

2 Gill, “The Genre of the Atlantis Story”, 298. 3 Ibid., 296. 4 Clay, “Plato’s Atlantis”, 17. 5 Howland, Glaucon’s Fate, 94. Seeing Ourselves in the Xenoi – Plato’s Warning to the Greeks 131 in the Persian War, itself, becomes a high-point or an ideal to which those who promise benefits from military conflict can appeal to excite patriotic moods. Second, there is some support in Friedländer, for example, for seeing Atlantis as a metaphor for the vanquished Persians. We defend the view that, regardless of whether Atlantis is more like historical Persia or Athens, it is a story meant to show to the Greeks that glorious empires fall, despite their successes. The ques- tion, then, is: What options are available for prudent politics after the impe- rial luster wares off? This is where Plato turns to Egypt and we, in Section IV, provide evidence to support our contention that Plato’s mention of Sais recom- mends a wary, rather than an altogether laudatory, attitude toward the landscape of Egyptian political history. On the side of Egyptian history, even a perempto- ry comparison between the Egyptians and the Greeks indicates that the Greek quarrels, to which Plato is a witness, contribute to his countrymen’s waning con- trol in the region in much the same way that the narrow-minded politicking of the historical rulers at Sais contributed to the undoing of Egypt. Therefore, if we are right and the Atlantis tale is a mirror of Athenian imperialistic hubris and its painful consequences, then the mention of Sais is meant to evoke images of a future to come if Greece fails to learn from the political history of Egypt.

Nationalistic Fervor – Critias’ Speech

From the start, the Timaeus broaches the subject of the polis – its construc- tion and constitution and, therefore, as Howland puts it, “the Timaeus begins within the horizon of nomos.”6 Next, the interlocutors engage in the making of poetic tales. Poetry weaves its way into politics as the subject matter of the dia- logue turns to the consideration of two fabled cities. One of them is described as the city, which once was the “best in war ... outstanding in all respects for her excellent ” (23c). The other city, which is on Critias’ mind as he reminisces about Solon’s poetry and travels, is the legend of the isle of Atlantis (Ἀτλαντίδι νήσῳ, 25a).7 Solon is mentioned twice in the Republic (536c – d; 599e), which reinforces the connection between that dialogue and the Timaeus and makes more prominent the political dimension of the latter.8 Solon also represents a

6 Holwand, “Partisanship and the Work of Philosophy”, 5. 7 We rely on Kalkavage’s translation of the Timaeus and on Clay’s translation of Critias in Plato: Complete Works, 1292 – 1306. Where translation differs from Kalkavage and Clay, it is the author’s. 8 For a description of Solon see Zeller, Philosophie der Griechen, 79. 132 Marina Marren symbolic, and possibly historical, connection between Greece and Egypt. Al- though scholarship is divided on the point of Solon’s historical travels to Sais, we side with Voegelin, who claims that “Solon, indeed, traveled to Egypt” and with Griffiths, who examines evidence in favor of assuming that Solon was in Egypt, but against Gruen, who thinks that Solon’s visit to Sais is “probably fictitious.”9 Whether or not the Republic is a true prequel to the Timaeus, the Critias is a sequel. We can gather this much from Taylor, who references the line, “to-mor- row Critias will tell the full story of the heroic exploit of Athens.”10 At the begin- ning of the Critias, the eponymously named character unambiguously states that Athens fought and overpowered the mighty Atlantis (108e – 109a). The Timae- us relates a similar story about the ancient strife between the two cities and about the defeat of the Atlantides (25b – d). In the Critias, we learn how the “ancient” (ἀρχῆς, 112e) people, who flourished nine thousand years prior to Critias’ time and whose exploits the Egyptian priests record for posterity, received their name. Solon’s translation of the name that was given to those ancient people by the Egyptians is “Athenians” (113a – b). Solon is not the first translator. Egyptian writers themselves “translated [the names] … into their own tongue” (113a).11 Critias, too, calls the ancient ones, who fought Atlantis, “Athenians.” However, Critias’ speech indicates that we are dealing with a double translation of names that are nine thousand years old (113a). At least based on this evidence, and as Clay’s analysis of “Platonic fabrication” indicates, we should take care to suppress our impulse to identify the ancient peoples in Critias’ account with the Athe- nians.12 Instead, we should ask ourselves why Critias insists on identifying the Athenians of his own time with the victorious defeaters of Atlantis? Likewise, we may ask about the Timaeus: Why does put his overt approval of Critias’ tale in the interrogative form? Socrates’ praise of Critias’ story does not include a single mention of identity between “what is now the city of the Athenians” (23c) and the warriors, who fought off Atlantis. Instead, Socrates – as if mockingly – queries: “How, then, and where will we find another account, if we dismiss this one” (26e)? Socrates agrees and, as Gill points out “with surprising eagerness,” that Critias’ narrative is especially appropriate as a means to honor the festival dedicated to the Goddess, whom Socrates, conspicuously, refrains from calling

9 Voegelin, “Plato’s Egyptian Myth,” 316; Griffiths, “Atlantis and Egypt,” 1985, 5 – 6; Gruen,Rethinking the Other in Antiquity, 106. 10 Taylor, A Commentary on Plato’s Timaeus, 14. 11 Αἰγυπτίους τοὺς πρώτους ἐκείνους αὐτὰ γραψαμένους εἰς τὴν αὑτῶν φωνὴν μετενηνοχότας. 12 Clay, Plato’s Atlantis”, 10. Seeing Ourselves in the Xenoi – Plato’s Warning to the Greeks 133 by her name.13 However, if this account is so fitting and if we are supposed to leave unquestioned the identification between Athena, Athens, and the people, who brought Atlantis to its knees, then why does Plato have Socrates introduce a comparison between a “made up myth and a truthful story” (πλασθέντα μῦθον … ἀληθινὸν λόγον, 26e) at the very same time that Socrates appears to praise Critias’ tale? We understand Socrates’ mention of the possible truth and obvious fiction as a reminder to the reader to refrain from all too readily believing Critias, whose story sings high praises to Athenians – on the day of the Greater Panathenaea – and aims to appeal to their patriotic zeal.14 Critias may not realize that his story forces an all too close a weaving between religion and his political agenda. How- ever, we should try and keep these separate. The onomastic ambiguity between the city that vanquishes Atlantis and the Athens of Critias’ time is largely overlooked. On the contrary, and against our interpretation, Griffiths, Vidal-Naquet as well as Sallis, that last of whom identifies the “ancient Athens [with] ... the original Athens,” take it for grant- ed that Atlantis finds its match in no other opponent, but the ancient city that eventually becomes known as Solon’s and Critias’ Athens.15 However, in the Greek text of the Timaeus, the descriptions of that city, which fought off At- lantis, are ambiguous. It is impossible to say with certainty that the ancient city, which fought Atlantis, also founded the actual Athens of Critias’ (and therefore Solon’s, Timaeus’, and Socrates’) time. To conclude his recitation of the story that Solon learned from the Egyptian priests at Sais, Critias implores the lis- teners to “make them citizens of this city of ours” (27b). “Them” refers both to the men that Timaeus will introduce in his speech (27a) as well as to the men who Socrates mentioned at the beginning of the Timaeus, i.e., those who Critias deems to be “educated in the highest degree” (27a). Both groups of men (those about to be produced by Timaeus and those already produced by Socrates) will be pronounced citizens of Athens “on the grounds that they are indeed the Athe- nians of that former time” (27b). The status of the genealogical identity between those men who came before and those who Socrates and then Critias discuss in the dialogue is dubious. So is their identity as the citizens of Athens. The readers of the Timaeus are led to assume that the conversation is about the ancestral Athenians, but this assumption finds no direct verification in the text. Why does Plato leave this ambiguity unresolved? What is it about Solon’s Athens that is

13 Gill, “The Genre of the Atlantis Story”, 290. 14 Cf. our view to Clay who calls Plato a “plastic artist … creating philosophical fictions” (“Plato’s Atlantis”, 3). 15 Sallis, Chorology, 38. 134 Marina Marren like that other city, which according to the Egyptian priest, prevailed over At- lantis (22b, 23c)? More importantly, what does Critias seek to achieve by identi- fying the victorious warriors of Solon’s story with the Athenians of his own time as well as with the accounts (already given by Socrates and about to be given by Timaeus) about the kinds of citizens that would make actual Athens great? Destruction – peril through “factions and ... other evils” (21c) – looms over Athens at the time that Critias reminisces about the stories he heard from his grandfather and which Solon brought from Egypt to Greece. As Clay supposes, Critias “attempted to right its [Athens’] fortunes,” but failed and became “the vic- tim of a civil war.”16 What is Plato saying about the Athenians of Critias’ and of So- lon’s time and about their ability (or lack thereof ) to pay heed to the story brought back from the old priest at Sais?17 Solon, “compelled to neglect” both poetry and the story “he brought back here from Egypt” (21c), leaves the account unfinished. Upon Solon’s return from Egypt, Pisistratus takes advantage of the “factions and all the other evils” (21c), i.e., of the internal rivalries at Athens, and he makes himself a tyrant. He unifies thepolis – that much is certain. He makes Athens strong. Pisistratus amplifies the majesty of the greater Panathenaea such that Ath- ena and Athens – the goddess and the polis – become as one. Pisistratus also sets Athens upon its expansionist trajectory. At the time of Critias’ narration in the Timaeus, which dramatically marks the celebration of the greater Panathenaea, the Athenians have yet to pay the full price for their militaristic exploits.18 The end of the disastrous Peloponnesian War is not yet at hand. Like Pisistratus, Critias of the dialogue seeks to excite patriotic sentiment. The historical Critias, however, fails to become a unifier and a stalwart leader of his people. Instead, as Nails reports, “Critias IV appears to have been one of the extreme members [of the Thirty] and personally to have plotted some of its most reprehensible measures: murders, con- fiscations, banishments, mass execution of the citizen population of Eleusis.”19 By

16 Clay, “Plato’s Atlantis”, 17. 17 The narrative frame of Critias’ speech removes him from Solon. Critias narrates the story from memory. As a child, Critias heard the tale recited by his grandfather Critias (21c), who himself heard the story from his grandfather, Dropides. Finally, it is the latter, who learned it from Solon (20d – e). Solon, as we know, brought the account back from Sais (21e – 22a) having heard the tale from “one of the very oldest of the priests” (22b). 18 Nails places the “earliest possible dramatic date for the dialogue [in] ... 429” (The People of Plato, 107). Taylor writes that “the Republic no less than the Timaeus, presupposes a date no later than about the time of the peace of Nicias (421 B. C.)” (A Commentary on Plato’s Timaeus, 16). See, further, Taylor 3 – 13, 27 – 34; Sallis, Chorology, 2 – 12; Zeyl, Timaeus, ix – xx; Howland, “Partisanship and the Work of Philosophy”, 2 – 3, nt. 5. Cornford concludes that outside of placing the dialogue at the time of Greater Panathenaea, “[t]he date is of no importance” (Plato’s Cosmology, 5). Cf. Cornford’s conclusion to Hirzel, Der Dialog, 256 – 58. 19 Nails, The People of Plato, 110. Seeing Ourselves in the Xenoi – Plato’s Warning to the Greeks 135 the time of Plato’s writing the Timaeus, Athens has seen the end of the Pelopon- nesian War. Plato’s readers would be able to compare Pisistratus and Critias. They would be in the position to notice that, despite the diminishment of its political power after the war, Athens still might host men who, like Critias, make appeals to former glory and, thereby, aim to flame nationalistic sentiment. Plato’s contem- poraries were and we still are in the position to ask: Who are the Critiases of our time? And what political disasters await us, if we fail to dampen the chauvinistic enthusiasm they excite? Who blends religion with highly questionable views of history? And who bends both to make them fit inflammatory political rhetoric? The warrior goddess of wisdom, none other than Athena, is invoked by Cri- tias at the outset of his account (20e). But is it the same goddess who the Egyptian priest described to Solon? Remarkably, and notably, this question cannot be defin- itively answered from Critias’ recitation of Solon’s tale, which says that

There is, in the Delta of Egypt, … where, at its head, the stream of the splits in two, a certain district called Saïtic, and the greatest city in this district is Sais (where in fact King Amasis also was from), whose originator is a certain goddess—the name in Egyptian is Neith, but in Greek (so their account goes) it is Athena; and these people claim to be great Athens-lov- ers and in some fashion relatives of the people here. 21e

Here, Athena’s name translates the name of the Egyptian goddess and marks a filial affection (φιλαθήναιοι) that the Egyptians feel for the Athenian people. There is, at the beginning of Solon’s account, one goddess with two names and there are two groups of worshipers. Whether one of these two peo- ples are the Athenians of Solon’s, Critias’, or of much earlier times, is unclear. The immediate assumption is that the name of the goddess who deals with the “most beautiful and best race among men ... born in the place where you [Solon] live” (23c) is Athena. But Critias’ recitation of a speech, which has been retold many times, does not grant to this assumption anything more than a tentative basis. On its surface, the unfolding story seems to split the one goddess into two, according to the two names that are given to her. Who else, but Athena, could be the goddess referred to as a “lover of war and a lover of wisdom” (23c)? It turns out that Neith could be one.20 In fact, nothing prevents it from being Neith, who

20 Schelling in the Historical-critical Introduction to the Philosophy of Mythology is referring to Carl Friedrich Dornedden’s Phamenophis (1797) where the latter, as Schelling puts it, proposes that “the whole Egyptian system of the gods is only a calendar system, a veiled representation of the yearly motion of the sun and of the change, posited with that, of phenomena in the course of the Egyptian year” (178, note “e”). Dornedden’s 136 Marina Marren shapes and rears the peoples who “surpassed all mankind in every virtue” (24d). Then it would have been the Neithians, not the Athenians, who battled the hu- bristic (24e) peoples of Atlantis. Better still, it may have been neither the Neithians nor the Athenians. It may have been the people whom the goddess, indeterminate in her namelessness, had brought forth. Then the inseparability of the relationship between the people, the place, and the name – the inseparability for which Cri- tias advocates (27b) – is dissolved. We now notice the contingent character of the alignment between nominalization and identification. Athenians become Athenians when they identify as such and when they bind their polis and their lives to Athena. This identification is so powerful that it cleaves the singular goddess into two and, then, ties each one of the goddesses, who are now given their proper names, to a place – to the earth or a region of the particular people. In the account of the Egyptian priest, this tie does not yet form into an unbreakable bond. However, the distance between Solon’s Athens and the polis, whose inhabitants are the progeny of the gods, diminishes (24d – e) once the land is chosen and settled, the laws of the narrated city are established, and the war is looming (24c – e). Critias, in his retelling of Solon’s story, hurries to dissolve this distance completely. Howland sheds light on Critias’ motive. He explains that “Critias’s tale of Solon’s visit to Egypt is designed to aggrandize not only the ancient Athenians, but also his family and, most of all, himself.21” In his haste, Critias misses the fateful warning that our interpretation of the Atlantis tale takes into account. This warning has to do with an assumption that, by means of poetic persuasion and religious zeal, for instance, history, myth, and peoples can be mixed up into a unity that will live up to the fabled ideal of the “Athenians of ... that former time, who, being hidden, were revealed by the oracular voice of the sacred texts” (27b). In striving for this singular idea of the Athenian people, in urging the interlocutors “to make speeches as though about men who are already citizens and Athenians” (27b), Critias fails to notice the many different ways in which the peoples, the cities, the deeds, the gods, and the stories about all these can be aligned. Consequently, Critias does not see which kind of meaning can be gleaned from an alternative alignment. In the next section, we show one of the missed meanings. We argue that Atlantis is more like the Athens of Critias’ day, rather than like the ancient people, who withstood the maritime power’s onslaught. thesis agrees nicely with the passage 22b – d in which the Egyptian priest substitutes the mythical with the natural causes of destruction. If Dornedden is correct, then our point about the indeterminacy of the goddess’ name is weakened. See, further, Bernal, Black Athena, 27 and Larson, Ancient Greek Cults, 41. 21 Howland, “Partisanship and the Work of Philosophy”, 19. Seeing Ourselves in the Xenoi – Plato’s Warning to the Greeks 137

Atlantis Myth as Plato’s Warning to the Athenians

Topography – the physicality of place – the location of the all-but-real Atlantis enables at first its imperial expansion, but finally also ensures its utter annihilation as “the island of Atlantis ... sank beneath the sea [that held it] and disappeared” (25d). In the Critias, we find out how the island got its name. Cri- tias tells us that “the whole island and the sea near it was called ... after the first king Atlas” (114). , whose domain is the ocean, fathers Atlas and his nine brothers. Thereafter, the landscape of the island is rearranged by the god so that the boys can be nurtured and protected by the land (113b – 114a). Accord- ing to Critias’s account, the geography of both Atlantis and Athens is decisive for the wellbeing, prosperity, and military prowess of their inhabitants. Atlantis, being under Poseidon’s protectorate, recalls a tale of another city, namely Ath- ens, and the competition over that polis into which the god entered and which he lost to Athena. Atlantis, as it is portrayed in the story told by Critias in the Timaeus, is rooted in a place and is defined by it.

In its insolence [the might of Atlantis] ... was advancing against all of Europe together with Asia. ... For at that time the ocean there could be crossed, since an island was situated in front of the mouth that you people call, so you claim, the Pillars of Hercules. The island was bigger than Lybia and Asia together, and from it there was access to the other islands for those traveling at that time, and from the islands to the entire opposing continent that surrounds that true sea. ... A great and wondrous power of kings ... mastered the entire island, many other islands, and even parts of the continent ... they further ruled over the lands here within Lybia as far as Egypt, and over Europe as far as Tuscany. Now once all this power had been gathered together into one, it undertook in a single onslaught to enslave the region around you and the one around us. 24e – 25b

The proximity of the islanders and of the continental peoples to Atlantis allows the kings (βασιλέων) of the island to keep their power over the polis intact while man- aging intermittent campaigns during which they subjugate the neighboring lands. At- lantis’s accumulation of power through the assimilation of the nearby peoples gradually expands the island’s influence, transforming the relationship between Atlantis and the places it conquers. Atlantis becomes something like a colonial city-state. Although it is not referred to as such in the text, Critias recounts that “all this power had been gath- ered into one” (25b). This unification is a point of alteration not only in the manner 138 Marina Marren of political arrangements, constitutive of the communal life in those places over which the kings of Atlantis now preside, but also in the fates of Atlantis. Because Atlantis out- grows itself, because it grows to be a monster-state that overshadows all the peoples out of which it is comprised, Atlantis is able to deploy its constituents toward a “single onslaught to enslave” (25b). Because Atlantis is disposed and able to act as an imperial power, it threatens the “power of [Solon’s] city” (25b). In the Timaeus, this threat can be heard not only as an encroachment upon Athens, but also and even more so as a caution against the dangers that a maritime power, like Athens, poses to itself. Howland sees a similar lesson in the tale of Atlantis, which “implicitly celebrates the young and lean Athenian democracy that led the Greeks in rebuffing another barbarian empire, that of the Persians, and anticipates the sinking of the very same city – now bloated new Atlantis – in the quagmire of Syracuse almost seventy years later.”22 In a study of “Sea-Power in Greek Thought,” Momigliano observes that not only Athens, but “[t]he whole growth of Greece up to the Persian Wars is de- scribed in terms of naval power.”23 He glosses Thucydides’ (2.60 – 64) rendition of the patriotic speech that Pericles delivers in the second year of the Peloponnesian War (430 BC) – a speech, which Momigliano thinks is “written or rewritten after the end of the Peloponnesian War” – and explains the message of that speech. The central idea is this: “the Athenian democracy is a tyranny founded upon sea-power. Yet the glory of that power is assumed to justify acceptance of the consequences.”24 On our interpretation, Plato’s story of Atlantis reflects both the naval successes and the demise of Athens (and its allies) in the Peloponnesian War and, therefore, it serves as a corrective to any such view, which recommends that the tyrannical means justify the supposedly glorious ends. We see Plato’s Atlantis tale as a basis for doubting the view that Athenian naval tyranny is politically viable. Three things happen when Atlantis rises to the height of its power. First, its might is placed in a precarious position. Atlantis is challenged by the peoples who it aims to subjugate (25b – c). Atlantis would not have met with opposition if it had not increased its sprawling territory so aggressively. Second, the military failure of Atlantis against its rival presages its complete physical annihilation (25d). Third, the race of warriors that outstrip Atlantis is now most closely tied to the Athenian race (25b). It is most difficult at times of war, which portend destruction, to keep sepa- rable the place, the people, and their name. Yet, it is, precisely, at such a time that a capacity to separate out these three aids in a prudent pursuit of preservation.

22 Howland, Glaucon’s Fate, 94. 23 Momigliano, “Sea-Power in Greek Thought”, 3. 24 Ibid., 2. Seeing Ourselves in the Xenoi – Plato’s Warning to the Greeks 139

If we distinguish Athens at the time the Timaeus or Critias takes place from the city whose people stood up against the warrior force of Atlantis, then we begin to see that for all of Critias’ desire to entwine the two and despite Socrates’ encouragement (26e – 27a) thereof, Critias’ Athens, which geographically stands in the place of that “city [, which] ... stood before all others in bravery and in all the arts relating to war” (25b) more so, politically, resembles Atlantis. In support of this view, but in a rather different appli- cation thereof, Morgan argues that Atlantis both reflects and helps shape the history of Athens. Morgan posits that the “Atlantis myth creates a vision of Athens that is true to Plato’s political ideals, but which is animated by contemporary historical topoi” or “larger fourth-century political and historiographical concerns.” Morgan sees in the Atlantis story a “narrative for an audience of philosophical cognoscenti that both rejects and transforms such topoi, and sparks a second-order consideration of forces at work in the construction of history.”25 Similarly, Naddaf understands the Atlantis myth in the Timaeus as an exam- ple of “Plato’s new philosophy of history.”26 Howland, whose take on the matter is closest to our own position, conjectures that the “story of Atlantis points back toward the Persian Wars, in which the Athenians played a leading role in defending the Greek cities against an invading empire, and forward to the defeat of the Athenians when they and their allies attempted to conquer Syracuse and Carthage in the expedition of 415-413.”27 We a g re e with Howland that Plato’s Atlantis, although Critias wants it to be a patriotic call to arms, can be read as a call to reflect on the inevitable pitfalls of Athenian aggression. Further, we see in the Atlantis story a wider ranging political recommendation, which extends to any power in the ascending and advises caution when it comes to expansionist ambitions. Imperial Athens, a city that dominates its neighbors in the , takes over Skyros and Euboea and exacts strict control over its annexed terri- tories. It is the power that advances against Syracuse, ’ homeland. Howland, according to whom, “Hermocrates can … be identified as a leader of the Syracusan oligarchs”28 observes about Hermocrates that while being

a loyal Syracusan, … he [Hermocrates] appears to transcend partisan at- tachments in a way that Critias does not; in his first appearance in the pages of Thucydides, he successfully urges the Greek cities of Sicily to set aside their differences and unite against Athenian aggression for the sake of their common salvation (Peloponnesian War 4.58–4.65).29

25 Morgan, “Designer History”, 101. Cf. Morgan, Myth and Philosophy, 264 – 69. 26 Naddaf, The Atlantis Myth, 191. 27 Howland, “Partisanship and the Work of Philosophy”, 3. 28 Ibid., 2. 29 Ibid., 20. 140 Marina Marren

Hermocrates says precious little in the Timaeus. However, historically, he is a key figure in bringing together the Sicilian cities and Carthage as a counter force to the expansion of Athenian interests. Hermocrates, at a later time, which falls outside of the possible dramatic dates of the dialogue, advises the Spartans while they plan their initial successful resistance to the Athenian aggression in Syracuse.30 Hermocrates’ character is a reminder, to us and to the dialogical interlocutors, of the expansionist aims of Athens.31 Athens, at the time that the conversations in the Timaeus take place, is at peace. The peace (of Nicias) will be shortly broken. Athens will begin preparing for a second, self-destructive, stage of the Peloponnesian War. No advice or warning issues from Hermocrates. However, a warning is given in the same speech that Critias takes to be a paean to the Athenian glory.

Egypt: Fall of Sais as a Sign of the Athenian Future

Although in the Timaeus, Egyptians are both Athens-loving (21e) and are meticulous, if not also wise, record keepers (23a), which both appear to be posi- tive characteristics, these glowing descriptions need not be Plato’s own opinion. Siniossoglou offers a helpful summary of various passages in Plato’s dialogues (e.g., Timaeus, Critias, Statesman, Phaedrus, and ) from which he con- cludes that “[a]ll told, the negative stereotype of Egyptian deviousness was so widespread in the Hellenic world, that Plato’s attribution of the Atlantis story to the Egyptian priests (Tim. 21e-25d, Critias 108d) may well be seen as a deliber- ate hint and exhortation to abandon the literalist interpretation of the story.”32 In agreement with Siniossoglou’s assessment of Plato’s interest in the Egyptians for the “metaphorical value” of the accounts and practices that they preserve, we think it is highly plausible that Plato offers to his audience a sort of Russian doll arrangement, where Egyptians serve as a foil to a cautionary political mes- sage. The arrangement goes something like this: a tyrannical Athenian, Critias, seeks to align himself with a reputed statesman, Solon. Critias does so by reciting the story of a fabulous people’s glory and demise (i.e., Atlantis), which Solon brought to Greece from Egypt. This narrative, itself, is wrapped in a stylized

30 Ibid., 3, nt. 8. 31 Welliver sees Hermocrates as Critias’ dialogical comrade in arms (Character, Thought, and Plot, 38). How- ever, cf. Sallis thinks that Hermocrates is meant to limit Critias’s unabashed enthusiasm and pro-Athenian sentiment (Chorology, 41). 32 Siniossoglou, “Hellenic Philosophy”, 52. Seeing Ourselves in the Xenoi – Plato’s Warning to the Greeks 141 image of a historical people (Saite Egyptians), who end up squandering their political power. Plato presents us with the images, the aftermath, and the appeals (in Critias’ character) of the warmongering ethos, but Plato does not – directly – recommend or proscribe this power-hungry way of life. Plato, as the Timaeus attests, knows of Amasis (21e). Herodotus thinks that Amasis is “of the province of Saïs and from the city the name of which is Siuph” (Hist., 2.172) and credits Amasis with passing a law, which “Solon the Athenian, taking this law from Egypt, imposed it upon the Athenians” (2.177). The law prescribes that all make annual declarations of their trade. Being a “great lover of the Greeks” (φιλέλλην, 2.178), Amasis establishes in Naucratis a place for a Greek colony, which “[i]n the old days … was the only port; there was no other in Egypt” (2.179). Moreover, Amasis allows for the construction of the Greek sanctuaries (2.178) and “[i]n the city of Saïs he made a marvelous propylaea for the temple of Athena” (2. 175). The political and religious ties between this Egyptian pharaoh at Sais, who rules around 570 – 526 BC, and the Greeks must have been obvious to Plato. If not in great detail, then at least in broad brush strokes, Plato also must have known of the relations between Egyptians and the Greeks during the century that followed Amasis’ reign as well as during Plato’s own lifetime. Ruzicka offers a detailed study of such relations, especially pertinent to the investigation of regional politics and the military lay of the land. At a first glance, it looks as if Plato’s choice of Egypt and, specifically, Sais is justified by the long-standing trade and military friendship between the two peoples as well as by the fact that their militaries collud- ed against Persian aggression.33 However, if we take into account the role that the Saite cult of Neith and its priesthood plays in abating the Persian, Cambyses (ruling 530 – 522 BC), matters become more complicated. Recall, that in the Timaeus, the Saite priesthood plays a central role in preserving and relating the story of Atlantis, which we submit is Plato’s allegory of imperial politics. Therefore, at Sais, religion and politics meet in such a way as to give Plato and, consequently, his readers a rea- son for philosophical reflection on the peculiar historical entwinement of the two. Historical Sais stands as a crafty stronghold of political power, even as the Egyptian might is giving way to the dominion of the new and the more indus-

33 On general connections, relations, and exchange of ideas between and , con�- sult Caspari, “On the Egyptian Expedition of 459-4 B. C.,”; Bernal, Black Athena; Voegelin, “Plato’s Egyp- tian Myth”; Roebuck, “The Grain Trade”; Hanrahan, “The Relations between Greece and Egypt”; Cohen, Not the Classical Ideal; Larson, Ancient Greek Cults; Ruzicka, Trouble in the West. On influences that ancient Egyptian, and specifically, Saite, art had on archaic canons in Greece, see Morris,Daidalos , 194 – 97. On the relations between Greece and Egypt (in 7BC), consult Burkert, The Orientalizing Revolution, 14. 142 Marina Marren trious Persian rulers.34 By the time that Solon visits Sais, Cyrus’ successes in the Median and the Lydian kingdoms and then in Babylon, prompt the Egyptians to look on the side of caution and hire Greek mercenaries. Ruzicka suggests that the strengthening of the Greek-Egyptian ties was precipitated by “the Egyptian king Amasis [who] may also have feared that with Persia in control of Anatolia all the way to the Aegean, Egypt’s important Greek and Carian mercenary and ship resources might be cut of.”35 Plato’s account of Solon’s travels, then, revisits the Saite golden age. However, by 526 BC, Amasis is dead and the less successful Psamtek III is ruler. Egypt falls prey to Cambyses (of whom Plato knew, Laws 694c). There is one historical person – a certain Udjahorresnet – who curiously draws together not only Amasis, Psamtek, and Cambyses, but also religion, po- litical wile, and military prowess. Udjahorresnet is an especially interesting ex- ample for figuring out the possible connotations that the Greeks of Plato’s time may have discerned in Plato’s mention of Solon’s visit with the priests at Sais – a visit which brings statesmanship into close quarters with religion. Blenkinsopp writes about “a naval commander under the last two phar- aohs of the Saitic dynasty, Amasis (570–526) and Psammeticus [Psamtek] III (526–525).”36 Udjahorresnet “after the invasion of Cambyses, … actively collab- orated with the Persians, initiating Cambyses into Egyptian customs, religious beliefs, and observances.”37 The military man turned priest, Udjahorresnet, saw to it that his deeds and his position with the temple of Neith at Sais was saved for posterity. Lloyd, who reports that “[t]he Persian occupation of Egypt fell into two periods, 525-404 and 343-332, separated by a turbulent period of inde- pendence under native Egypt” begins his study of Udjahorresnet’s “testament” to the collaboration with the Persians by turning our attention to “the inscrip- tion on the naophorous statue of Udjahorresnet which was set up in the temple of Neith at Sais during the reign of Darius I, probably about Regnal Year 3, i.e. C.519 B.C., and discusses the relations between the owner, on the one hand, and Cambyses and Darius on the other.”38

34 On the relationship between Atlantis and Egypt in the Timaeus, see Griffiths, “Atlantis and Egypt”. Grif- fiths reflects on the implications of the Greek-Egyptian military friendship for the Egyptian attempts to oust the Persians (15 – 16). On the role of Sais in Egyptian attempts to regain control after the Kushite invasion, see Redford, “Sais and the Kushite Invasions”; Wilkinson, The Rise and Fall of Ancient Egypt, 290. 35 Ruzicka, Trouble in the West, 13. 36 Blenkinsopp, “The Mission of Udjahorresnet”, 409 – 10. Cf. Asheri, Lloyd, Corcella, A Commentary on Herodotus, 414. 37 Blenkinsopp,“The Mission of Udjahorresnet”, 410. 38 Lloyd, “The Inscription of Udjaḥorresnet”, 165, nt. 1 and 166. Seeing Ourselves in the Xenoi – Plato’s Warning to the Greeks 143

Udjahorresnet loses no time when it comes to securing his position of in- fluence in the Saite kingdom. Since his power could no longer be openly mili- taristic, Blenkinsopp thinks that, as a priest of Neith, Udjahorresnet “used his new position to influence Cambyses to carry out a thorough restoration of the cult at the dynastic sanctuary of Sais.”39 Blenkinsopp sites lines 19 – 25 of the inscription left by Udjahorresnet and concludes that “[t]he restoration” of the cult “included the following: expulsion of foreigners from the temple precincts: elimination of all ritual impurities; installation of legitimate cult personnel; rees- tablishment of traditional religious observances; provision of the necessary sup- port from the Persian government.”40Udjahorresnet succeeded at securing his position in Sais as well as at convincing Cambyses of the city’s special role in the Egyptian culture. As proof of his belief, Cambyses visited the temple at Sais and gave obeisance to Neith. According to Blenkinsopp, “Udjahorresnet informs us that Cambyses came in person to the sanctuary, prostrated himself before the goddess, and left behind rich ex voto offering.”41 This image of Sais, which Cri- tias’ tale invokes indirectly, i.e., Sais as the sacred city, whose natives are so wise and cunning that they are able to turn to their side the newly established foreign power, casts a shadow on the unquestionably positive representation of its lead- ers. Udjahorresnet is less like Amasis and more like Critias, who sings praises to the great time of Solon, but who aligns his interests with a pro-Spartan oligarchy, acts cruelly against his own people, and it would seem, pursues his own interests before those of Athens. At a later point, after the battles of Salamis and Thermopylae have been burned into Greek memory, Sais strengthens its military friendship with Ath- ens. The 27th dynasty in Egypt is known as the “Persian dynasty” There are no Egyptian rulers to speak of, because the Persians hold tight control over it. How- ever, Sais and the city’s priesthood become essential players in the political and cultural history of Egypt as power changes hands once more. Ruzicka’s record states that “the 27th or Persian Dynasty came to an end, and the 28th Dynasty began with the kingship of of Sais.”42 Ruzicka, then, comments on the Saite Egyptian’s interest in a close relationship with Athens and says that this

39 Blenkinsopp,“The Mission of Udjahorresnet”, 410. 40 Ibid. 41 Ibid., 410 – 11. Udjahorresnet’s account of Cambyses is, markedly, different from Herodotus’. See Blenkinsopp’s reasons for thinking why “Herodotean portrait” of Cambyses as a sacrilegious hater of Egypt “is to a large extent tendentious and false” (411 and nt. 9). 42 Ruzicka, Trouble in the West, 37. 144 Marina Marren foreign policy of Sais was prompted by an ongoing threat of the Persian’s rein- stalling their domination in the region. According to him and from the point of view of the Persians,

[e]ven though the Persians still held a great part of Egypt after 406/5, with Delta dynasts in full revolt, Amyrtaeus in control of much or all of the Delta, and Athens hostile to Persia and not preoccupied by war with , the Persians faced the very real prospect of seeing just what Persian policy in the west had sought above all else to prevent for the last half cen- tury: renewed Athenian-Egyptian collusion.43

Thus, one of the goals of the late fifth century Saite kingdom’s “Athens-lov- ing” policy is to secure for itself freedom from the Persian yoke.44 The Saite Amyr- taeus accomplishes that and, moreover, “by 401/0” Amyrtaeus extends “his pre- viously limited kingship to all of Egypt.”45 However, Amyrtaeus’ rule during 404 – 399 BC is fairly short lived. His ascent to power is ridden with intrigue and betrayal. Ruzicka admits that “[w]e lack any information about how he accom- plished this and must resort to conjecture. Quite likely, Amyrtaeus’ original aim in killing Tamos,” a Persian naval admiral, who was appointed governor of Ionia by , “in the aftermath of Cyrus’ death was to redeem himself in Artaxerxes’ eyes.”46 Amyrtaeus (if the historical record is correct on this), seeking to gain favor with Artaxerxes does away with Tamos, despite the fact that the lat- ter sought refuge in Egypt. Henderson corroborates Ruzicka’s account of Amyr- taeus’ treatment of Tamos.47 “However,” Ruzicka continues, “once Artaxerxes’ postponement of the previously prepared Egyptian campaign became apparent, Amyrtaeus probably stopped worrying about self-preservation.”48The politick- ing pharaoh, who aligns himself with the Persian King of Kings by means of

43 Ibid. 44 Amyrtaeus of Sais rules in 404 – 399 BC. An earlier Amyrtaeus “of the marshes” (Thucydides,P.W. , 1.110) betrays his Lybian comrade, Inarus, which probably saves Amyrtaeus from Persian ire. Ruzicka notes that Amyrtaeus “of the marshes,” also seeks help from the Athenians. Ruzicka reports that “in 451, Amyrtaeus so- licited Athenian aid for renewed Egyptian revolt. He got sixty ships, but the Athenians brought these back to Athens along with the fleet from Cyprus after Cimon died during Athenian operations on the island (Thuc. 1.112.1–4; Plut. Cim. 18–19.2; Diod. 12.3.1–4)” (Trouble in the West, 33). 45 Ibid., 39. 46 Ibid., 40. 47 Gardiner, Egypt of the , 372. 48 Ruzicka, Trouble in the West, 40. Seeing Ourselves in the Xenoi – Plato’s Warning to the Greeks 145 killing another and a less important Persian leader, meets his end at the hands of his own people. The 29th dynasty of Egypt, headed by Nepherites during 399 – 393 BC is nearly as fleeting as Amyrtaeus’ own reign. Grimal’s account relates that Nepherites, who challenges, battles, defeats and then executes Amyrtaeus, moves the capital from Sais to his own native town, (in Greek) or what Egyptians call “Djedet.”49 Some version of this power struggle, which was unfolding right next door to Greece, during Plato’s lifetime must have been known to him and to the Greeks. Whereas, the relations between Athens and Sparta are tense after the war, Egypt enjoys help from both opponents.50 The fate of Egypt, then, pre- sents a shared interest for the Greeks, despite the hostilities between the Greek cities. Whereas, it might be difficult for the factious Greeks to resist pretensions to Panhellenic power, it might help if they could see themselves as well as the self-seeking politicking, which plagues Greece, reflected in the affairs of the wa- vering and deeply divided Egyptian land. Upon this reflection, Critias’ appeal to a former Athenian glory, however seductive it may be, loses its bite, because it prefers Athenian greatness to a united, albeit not Athens-dominated, Greece. The petty politicking and the domestic squabbles of Egyptian power brokers at the dawn of the fourth century are a historical mirror of Athens in the aftermath of the Peloponnesian War. The inner Greek factions persist after the War. Despite the Delian losses, not everyone in Athens sides with the Spar- tan contingent in their efforts to curb hegemonic moods. The imperialistical- ly-minded Theban faction formed in 404 BC by the Athenian refugees in The- bes, seeks to revive the imperialist spirit. As Mossé contends, the instigators hope to benefit from the growing animosity between Sparta and Thebes. They gather supporters to defeat the Spartans, who oppose the idea of pursuing further ex- pansion and predation.51 The readers of the Timaeus, in the second half of the fourth century BC, can see that for all of Saite Amyrtaues’ attempts to come out on top his demise comes swiftly and at the hands of his fellow countryman, Nepherites, who seeks to establish his own rule in Egypt. Internal power struggle undermines Egyptian might. Of course, there are numerous examples of such ill-fated strife outside of Egypt, but Plato makes Critias speak about the Athenian lawgiver’s, Solon’s,

49 Grimal, A , 372 – 3. 50 Austin and Tod, “Athens and the ’ Revolt”, 98 – 100; Ruzicka, Trouble in the West, 134 – 44. 51 Mossé, Athens in Decline 404–86BC, 21 – 49, esp. 24. Democracy wins in Thebes in “379 the democratic revolution” (24). 146 Marina Marren visit to Sais – a city, which historically and in terms of its religious observances, is on friendly terms with the Greeks. He explicitly draws a connection between the religious institutions of Athens and Sais. These parallels, we here contend, are not merely coincidences, but they are explicit and defining elements of the story. Therefore, it is required of us, as Plato’s readers that we make a concerted effort to get a hold on ancient Egyptian politics in order to arrive at a more in- timate understanding of the Timaeus. Sais embodies the well-disposed other or the hospitable ξένοι. Perhaps, on the basis of xenia – a fellow feeling toward Sais – and with the imploding political landscape of the Egyptian state in mind, the Greeks of Plato’s own time can reconsider their own divisionary tactics? History answers this question in the negative. The jagged political landscape of Greece in the fifth and fourth centu- ries BC looks a lot like the dusk of Egypt. The Sicilian disaster (413 BC), the oligarchic revolt (411 BC), the Delian defeat and the ensuing tyranny of the pro-Spartan thirty (404 BC) – all these are reminiscent of the Egyptian trou- bles. The inner instability of Egypt, which is fueled by the selfish interests of its ruling elite, ends up tearing the once extraordinary empire asunder. Plato evokes this image of a bygone, foreign might and of Sais – the city that played a role in the final destabilization of Egyptian power and with which the Greeks had close relations – and holds it up for the Athenians, as if it were a prophe- sying mirror. If we accept Taylor’s somewhat dated, but a detailed study of the possible historical and dramatic dating of the Timaeus, then by the time that Plato com- poses the Timaeus, circa 360 BC (or as Vidal-Naquet conjectures, around 355 BC), Egypt is but a faint image of its former pharaonic might.52 Although, the fate of Greece in 4BC is not yet sealed, the Greeks face that same prospect, but how to make them see? Plato devises a decoy – make the Greeks reflect on the repercussions of their poor political decisions by seeing them reflected in the demise of the mythical peoples of Atlantis and in the history of the Egyptians – the Greek-loving and, by Plato’s time, all but defeated ξένοι. However, Plato’s dialogues being works of philosophy and not of political propaganda, do not in- tend to beat it over our heads that warmongering nationalism is wrong. Instead, they invite the readers – ancient and contemporary – to think through refracted images of state power and tease out the philosophical nuance that inevitably gets lost in direct postulates and prescriptions.

52 Taylor, A Commentary on Plato’s Timaeus, 9; Vidal-Naquet, “Atlantis and the Nations”, 300. Seeing Ourselves in the Xenoi – Plato’s Warning to the Greeks 147

Conclusion

The dramatic date of the Timaeus coincides with a period of great decisions for Athens. The repercussions of the choices that the bellicose leaders of Athens make at that time are clear to Plato’s contemporaries. The peace of Nicias ends and Athens falls. The fate of Greece is now in question. Like a good poet, Plato does not preach about the political realities of his time, but instead offers a phil- osophical muthos with a narrative arc and a dramatic plot that is based in, but is not the same as, history. Unlike Phrynichus, whom the Athenians fined for the Fall of Miletus, a poignant and a historically accurate war drama, Plato does not present a picture of events that is exactly true to life.53 Thereby, the opening of the Timaeus avoids exciting the tragic sentiment and, instead, welcomes philo- sophical reflection. The multilayered removal of the dialogical beginning from the actual Athenian polis of Plato’s time and the gradual refractions of the myth- ical and the historical imperial defeats are nuanced enough to allow for multiple vantage points from which to engage in reflection. One such position has to do with a realization that never occurs to Critias, who rallies for the unquestioned superiority of Athens. The less nationalistic point of view allows to reassess Athe- nian history from the point of the dissolution of the peace of Nicias and on and ask the following question: Will we now fall, like the once glorious historical Sais, if we seek to embody the power-hungry tactics of a mythical polis like At- lantis? Despite the help from both Athenian and Spartan Greeks, Egypt does not succeed in reinstalling its ruling power. The Macedonian will drive out the Persians, but that event, which lies outside of Plato’s time, marks the definitive fall for both the Egyptians and the Greeks.

53 Hdt., Hist., 6.22. TheFall of Miletus was produced around 493 – 92 BC. 148 Marina Marren

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