Socrates and his clouds

Dear Readers,

It is a privilege and a pleasure for me to offer you the guest post below from William Lyons. Mr. Lyons will be having his new play about Socrates produced in London next summer; previously he had a play about Wittgenstein produced. I’m very pleased to be able to give you Mr. Lyon’s reflections on philosophy and drama.

Happy New Year!

Nick Nielsen

There will always be those who will immediately point out that philosophy and drama never go well together, no matter what form the conjunction takes. While there have been over the history of philosophy many famous philosophical dialogues, written by such great philosophers as Plato, Anselm, Berkeley and Hume, they remain just that, dialogues not drama, just talking heads. Talking heads run an acute risk of being acutely boring for any audience, especially if the heads are talking philosophy. Certainly it is true that a number of classical scholars have suggested that Plato’s dialogues were performed as live dramas at some of the great Athenian dramatic festivals such as the City Dionysia. In the final analysis, however one looks at it, dialogues will always be just that, people talking. So, even if I managed to persuade some artistic director to stage one, I myself, a writer of philosophical plays, have no desire to bore a theatre audience with yet another philosophical dialogue.

Anyone interested in French cinema will be used to characters in films discussing Plato or Descartes or Voltaire or Sartre in some café that resembles the Parisian intellectuals’ Café de Flore or the Café Les Deux Magots. But these films are not really philosophical films but films that display some character’s sophistication by having him or her talk about the views of some famous philosophers. More truly philosophical are those plays by the French Existentialists, Sartre, de Beauvoir and Camus which not merely often featured philosophers as characters in a play but explored philosophical themes. The French Théatre de l’Absurde, which had an influence on Beckett, also had Existentialist themes at its core – the non‐existence of God, the denial of an after‐life, the repudiation of objective moral values and so, in consequence, the absurdity of life.

My starting point is different. An apt alternative title for what I am trying to achieve might be “the drama of a genuinely philosophical life”. Thus my attempt, in my initial trilogy of plays, at making the connection between philosophy and drama is focused particularly on philosophers themselves, on their philosophical life and the difficulties in leading it. I’m interested in how a philosopher, at least one worthy of the name, goes about his or her business. In particular I’m interested in how a philosopher functions in a world where the core philosophical virtues of intellectual integrity, moral courage, and honesty are generally ignored. Thus I’ve been interested in those philosophers who conspicuously lived by their philosophical beliefs when this was not an easy thing to do, and obversely in those philosophers who, while professing certain philosophical beliefs, conspicuously separated those beliefs from their ordinary lives. In writing this sort of drama I have as an additional aim a desire to draw philosophy to the attention of the “ordinary person” who would not ordinarily come across philosophy during his or her life much less engage with it. I fancy that displaying the philosophical life, or philosophy as incarnated in the life of some philosopher, may well be a good way to do this.

Given this approach, the big question is how can one generate philosophical drama about a philosopher that is true to his or her core ideas but is also alive and engaging? A philosopher is famous mainly because of some core texts of which he or she is the author. But philosophy books are notoriously complex and difficult texts. So in dramatizing the life of a particular philosopher, the temptation is to avoid the philosophy and concentrate instead on the more sensational events, if any, in the philosopher’s life. The film “Iris”, for example, is a brilliant piece of film‐making about the novelist and philosopher, Iris Murdoch. But the film is about Iris Murdoch’s relations with her husband, the literary critic John Bayley, and especially about the tensions in that relationship caused by Iris’s gradual descent into the cognitive darkness of Alzheimer’s disease. A viewer gets little or no sense that Iris was a famous novelist nor is provided with any clues about her philosophical ideas or ideals.

Drama involves focusing on the events in people’s lives. If the life in question is that of a philosopher, it seems that one way forward is for a dramatist to be interested in how at least some of those events were shaped by the philosopher’s ideas. A convincing interweaving of the life and thought of a philosopher is possible, particularly in the case of philosophers, like Socrates and Wittgenstein, who lived their philosophy in a profound way. So I have written plays about both Socrates and Wittgenstein. I have also written a play about the relationship between the philosophers Martin Heidegger and Hannah Arendt. These two also manifested their philosophical views in their lives, though it is arguable that Heidegger spent considerable time and energy denying this. In the course of the post‐war defence of his actions during the Nazi era in Germany, he suggested that philosophy, or at least his philosophy, should be separated from a philosopher’s life. In the play this attitude is contrasted with that of Hannah Arendt whose philosophy was undeniably shaped by her experiences during that same period of history and clearly acknowledged by her as such.

While my play about Heidegger and Arendt is yet to be staged, my play about Wittgenstein, “Wittgenstein — The Crooked Roads”, had its world premiére and subsequent performances in April-May 2011 at the Riverside Studios in Hammersmith, London. At present I am engaged in the pre‐production planning for the world premiére and subsequent performances of my play about Socrates, “Socrates and his Clouds”, at the Jermyn Street Theatre in central London, 3rd June – 22nd June 2013. So, as an example of how I go about writing a “theatre of thought” or “theatre of thinkers” drama, let me say something about this play, in particular something about its inspiration, ideas and form.

Socrates is a central figure in the history of Western philosophy and thereby an iconic figure in Western civilization. While there is not even one piece of philosophical writing published under his own name, he appears to have been such a memorable and successful teacher of philosophy that he was written about by contemporaries such as Plato, Xenophon and Aristophanes, and, some centuries later, he is a central figure in Diogenes Laertius’s “Lives and Opinions of the Philosophers”. What draws authors to Socrates is the single‐minded intensity, integrity and dialectical force of his enquiry into the nature of the virtues, the ideals of education, the best way to organize a society and above all the best way for an individual to live his or her own life. He is the philosophers’ philosopher as well as the ordinary person’s, or ordinary educated person’s, ideal of a philosopher. He is the initial paradigm in Western culture of what a philosopher should be like.

But there have been many plays written about Socrates, almost all of them concentrating on his trial and conviction on the twin charges of corrupting the youth and of impiety or belittling the traditional religion, and so in turn on his subsequent death sentence and execution by poisoning. So I decided to avoid going down that well‐trodden path. This led me to look at Aristophanes’ famous debunking of Socrates in his play “Clouds”. This is a powerful piece of what has subsequently come to be called “Old Comedy” or “Comedy of Ideas”. Indeed this form of serious farce was invented by Aristophanes. Some critics have suggested that his depiction in the “Clouds” of Socrates as a sophistic charlatan and dithering buffoon seriously undermined Socrates’ defence in his trial before the democratic court of 501 male citizens in 399 b.c. I decided to give a different account of Socrates as teacher of philosophy but at the same time not to neglect the wit and fun of serious comedy. So “Socrates and his Clouds” is my attempt to revive “Old Comedy” or “Comedy of Ideas” with, of course, as the title implies, much homage to the master himself, Aristophanes. But, among other things, I substitute someone more like the witty, wry and wise Socrates of Plato’s dialogues for the buffoon of Aristophanes. I depict Socrates as aged 70, just before he is indicted for his crimes of corrupting the youth and impiety but fully conscious of the fact that his enemies are closing in on him. I borrow some of the characters from Aristophanes’ “Clouds” and some of the plot. But the text is otherwise completely new and original. I turn the play into a serious‐comedy about the ever‐fraught father‐son relationship, the nature of education, the place of religion in a society, the role of reason, and the perennial problem about how one should live one’s life.

The theatre company producing the play is a Greek one so that, whether intentionally or not, the production is bound to be imbued with an appropriately Greek flavour. Perhaps I should describe the company as Anglo‐Greek as most of those involved in it are young Greeks or Cypriots now living in London. This Anglo‐Greek company, called The Meddlers Theatre Company, is led by Melina Theocharidou. She is a Cypriot Greek who studied for an arts degree in Nicosia, then studied drama at RADA (the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London), King’s College London, the Athinais Theatre in Athens and, as a summer intern, at the Lincoln Center Theater Directors’ Lab in New York (where she and fellow interns work‐shopped “Socrates and his Clouds” in 2012). The designer of the set and costumes is in the hands of Katerina Angelopoulou, daughter of the late great Greek film director, Theo Angelopoulos, on whose last films she worked. She is also an award‐winning theatre designer in her own right. As there is in the play a singing and dancing Greek Chorus of street buskers who might also be, it seems, The Fates, so there are music directors. These are also Greek — Olivios Karaolides (composition) and Constantine Andronikou (singing).

That the production will have a pronounced Greek flavour seems to me to be timely and apt. Over the last year and a half Greece has being endlessly criticized and belittled by the world’s press. Through its focus on Socrates, I hope that this Greek production will remind us of the fact that, since the golden age of Athenian civilization, Greece has been the source of so many of the great aspects of our culture.

The theatre where the production will be staged is the Jermyn Street Theatre in central London, an outfield baseball throw from Piccadilly Circus. It is a small intimate studio theatre, seating c. 75 persons grouped around three sides of the stage area. In short it is very audience friendly. The theatre was named as the Fringe Theatre of the Year 2012 and has an acclaimed artistic director, Antony Biggs, as well as an experienced and dedicated staff.

What I have not yet mentioned is the dispiriting and wearying work of trying to raise sufficient sponsorship for this production. Because sponsorship for drama from the British Arts Council has been decimated, so few theatres now receive support from it, so that theatre rental costs have climbed alarmingly. Fringe theatre in Britain, the home of new writing, has rarely received much commercial sponsorship as commercial sponsors tend to support sporting events or pop concerts which gain wide tv coverage and so provide prime advertising time for them. As the life of an actor is always financially fragile, we would also like to pay our cast basic Equity rates of pay. So if there are any kind souls out there, who love theatre or philosophy, or both, and would love to help sponsor the London production of “Socrates and his Clouds”, please contact me (at I should also make clear that I myself will neither be asking for nor accepting any form of fee, royalty or even expenses.

William Lyons.

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Grand Strategy Annex

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Mass War and Mass Man

27 April 2009



This morning on twitter I jotted down a few quick notes that partially reflect the fact that I am presently listening to a couple different books about war: Firestorm: Allied Airpower and the Destruction of Dresden, by Marshall de Bruhl, and A Savage War of Peace: Algeria 1954 – 1962, by Alistair Horne.


As I was capturing a few thoughts about contemporary warfare, it dawned on me that my thoughts on war can be given an interesting Marxist formulation. If there is anyone who reads this forum on a regular basis you will know that, despite my clear differences with Marx, I often end up citing and quoting him, and I will further develop my quasi-Marxist reflections today.


One of the features of Marx’s thought that retains its value despite the problematic nature of so much Marxist theory is that of the distinction between economic base and ideological superstructure. There should be a name for this distinction and the view of society that it implies, but I am not sufficiently up on Marxist studies to know if there is a term that is commonly used within the discipline, so at present I will refer to it as “the economic interpretation of history”.

I wrote about this last week in relation to Joseph Campbell’s use of the phrase, and there I said that I didn’t know exactly what Campbell meant by it. Well, this is as good a meaning as any for the phrase, and indeed I think it sums up the idea Campbell meant to criticize quite nicely. We could even say (with a certain flourish) that the fundamental theorem of the economic interpretation of history is that the ideological superstructure of a society is completely determined by the economic base of the same society.

This uncompromising statement of the fundamental theorem of the economic interpretation of history is a perfect instance of reductionism as well as of constructing a theoretical absolute. Reductionism is mostly out of favor among contemporary thinkers, though it is not without its advocates, and constructing a theoretical absolute can be little different than erecting a straw man. There are obvious re-formulations of this theorem that are far less rigid, and thus far more likely to be true, or, at least, to have some truth in them. For example, we could say that the economic interpretation of history is the principle that ideological superstructure is mostly determined, or somewhat determined, by economic base. Or, hedging even more, that ideological superstructure is determined at least in part by economic base. It would be foolish to deny the latter outright, so we see that between an absolutist and uncompromising statement of a principle, and a thoroughly hedged statement there can be the difference between night and day.

But rather than conditionalize, compromise, or hedge, I would like to go in the direction of greater abstractness and generality. In other words, I would like, for the moment, to pursue an even more thorough-going reductionism, all in the interest of philosophical principle.

When thinking about it this morning, I was struck by the obvious fact that Marx’s formulation of the economic interpretation of history can be generalized. Rather than limiting our foundations to economic foundations, any social system whatever can be seen as the social base of a society, while any cultural or intellectual expression of a people is a wider field of ambition than political ideology in the narrow sense. Thus a generalization of Marx’s principle would be that social conditions determine the life of the mind. Once again, if we hedge and say, “Social conditions, at least in part, determine the life of the mind,” we have a proposition with which few will disagree.

Now, to war. War is one form of social organization. Indeed, it is a pervasive form of social organization throughout human history. There are important respects in which war is an expression of human culture. It is then to be expected that the social conditions of a society at war are expressed in the methods by which that society makes war.

Since the end of the Second World War, there was been much discussion of strategic bombing. An explicitly philosophical treatise has been written to denounce it as immoral (A. C. Grayling’s Among the Dead Cities: Was the Allied Bombing of Civilians in WWII a Necessity or a Crime?). Caleb Carr denounces it in his The Lessons of Terror. Firestorm, mentioned above, questions the utility and rationale of strategic bombing. But, if I am at least partly right, it is misleading to try to understand strategic bombing in exclusively moral or political terms. Strategic bombing is an expression of our culture.

"What will happen once the authentic mass man takes over, we do not know yet, although it may be a fair guess that he will have more in common with the meticulous, calculated correctness of Himmler than with the hysterical fanaticism of Hitler, will more resemble the stubborn dullness of Molotov than the sensual vindictive cruelty of Stalin." Hannah Arendt

"What will happen once the authentic mass man takes over, we do not know yet, although it may be a fair guess that he will have more in common with the meticulous, calculated correctness of Himmler than with the hysterical fanaticism of Hitler, will more resemble the stubborn dullness of Molotov than the sensual vindictive cruelty of Stalin." Hannah Arendt

Once we see it in this context, it seems rather obvious. Hannah Arendt is especially remembered for her argument that twentieth century totalitarianism and fascism is a political outcome of the emergence of mass man in history. I would argue that mass warfare is also a nearly inevitable historical outcome of the emergence of mass man. Today we have mass war for mass man. It may be horrific, but it is not to be treated as some kind of anomaly: this style of warfare perfectly matches the structure of society today.

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For the record, below are my Twitter posts from this morning, laying the above out with a certain succinctness:

1. Influencing policy through mass terror could have no place before popular opinion was crucial to the formulation of policy.

2. The limited war of earlier ages corresponded to the drastically limited sovereignty of non-democratic institutions.

3. Where vox populi is law, to shift the feeling or perceptions of the people, through terror or other means, is a coherent strategy.

4. Twentieth century campaigns of mass death and strategic bombing are brought into being (not justified) by popular sovereignty.

5. The ideological superstructure of modern war (mass war) supervenes upon the social and economic base of modern human life (mass man).

6. Mass war is a product of the Age of Mass Man.

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Grand Strategy Annex

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