Liberty and Community: A Liberal Resolution

Much has been written in the last few years regarding Leo Strauss's political attachments, especially with respect to his purported influence over American neoconservatives. Problematically, Strauss scrupulously avoided explicit ideological entanglements, rarely addressed particular policy debates, and left little guidance for the statesman or thoughtful commentator interested in drawing practical political inferences from his philosophical writing. To add further ambiguity to already muddy waters, Strauss's discussion of the relation between prudence and philosophic insight coupled with the many and incompatible roles he assigns to the philosopher within the city make it unclear if there is anything at all that philosophy can teach us of political significance. The following essay aims to explain Strauss's view of the political function of philosophy in light of his distinction between classic and modern utopianism and what he calls in On Tyranny "philosophic politics."     

From Cowards and Subversives to Aggressors and Questionable Allies: US Army Perceptions of Zionism since World War I

For most of the twentieth century, the attitudes and policies of the US army were consistently anti-Zionist. From World War I into the 1950s, army anti-Zionism was inextricably interrelated with a mutually reinforcing anti-Semitism that ranged from political and ethnic bias to extremist versions of biological racial and conspiratorial thinking. Army officers perceived Zionist objectives in the Middle East as detrimental to America's national interest regarding wartime security and geopolitical stability in a crucial region, as well as concerning oil resources and communist containment. In supporting Zionism and later Israel, America Jews revealed their suspected disloyalty. Although anti-Semitic concepts gradually disappeared from official army analyses, striking continuities remained in the army's anti-Zionist position. Until the end of the Cold War, the army rejected the “special relationship” argument based upon shared values or Israel as a military asset. The image of the cowardly, weak Jew incapable of establishing and defending a Jewish state in Palestine had been replaced by that of a militarily superior, potentially aggressive Israel destabilizing a strategic area.     

Editorial

For John Stuart Mill, Matthew Arnold, and their later Victorian respondents, the Stoic writer and second-century CE Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius represented a test-case for the sufficiency of the ostensibly masculine practices of askesis and detachment as ethical ideals, specifically in the context of Christianity. A brief passage in Mill's On Liberty (1859) comparing Stoic ethics with Christian ethical practice provoked an extended response from Arnold in an 1863 review essay. Mill and Arnold both used comparisons with Christianity to trace the contours and to explore the limits of Marcus Aurelius's ‘lovable’ nature; in doing so, Arnold in particular enacted a peculiar kind of historical sympathy for both the Marcus Aurelius that was and for a missed rapprochement between classical and Christian ethics. For a series of later writers, including freethinkers, religious conservatives and liberal Christians, Marcus Aurelius either promised or threatened to reconcile Stoicism with Christianity. Assessing the emperor in the light of Christianity became a means both for producing or denying a link to the classical past and for describing the condition of Christianity in England. A key point of contention for these writers and a landmark in the broader debate over Victorian secularization was the question of Marcus Aurelius' role in the torture and killing of 48 Christians at Lugdunum (Lyons) in 177 CE.     

The nobility of English Gascony: the case of Jourdain de l'Isle

Among the greatest obstacles to effective English authority in Gascony was a criminal element within the nobility. Lawless, acquisitive, and defiant of all authority, such individuals were especially troublesome for Edward II whose control over Gascony would have been tenuous in any event. Among the most notorious in this period was Jourdain de l'Isle, younger son of a powerful Gascon nobleman. Holding extensive territories through both inheritance and marriage, Jourdain was a violent and aggressive man who attacked indiscriminately merchants, clergy, and even his fellow noblemen. Ignoring the efforts of the ducal government to control him, Jourdain appealed to the Capetian Parlement of Paris; but the French like the English had little use for him. His only supporter was his kinsman, Pope John XXII, who sought to assist Jourdain against both ducal and Capetian authorities, after the Gascon's crimes had brought him the enmity of both. While the pope's efforts had no result, neither the English nor the French succeeded in punishing Jourdain until in 1323 he defiantly came to Paris, where he was tried and executed for his sundry crimes. Jourdain's sorry career illustrates the problems that such men created for English rule in Gascony and makes clear that in at least this situation Plantagenet and Capetian authorities were in total agreement.