Leo Strauss lectures on Plato's Meno 4 - [1966]

Leo Strauss lectures on Plato's Meno 3 - [1966]

Leo Strauss lectures on Plato's Meno 2 - [1966]

Hegel and historicism.

Leo Strauss lectures on Plato's Meno 1 - [1966]

What is political philosophy?

When I was a Leftie -- part two

Too many of the anti Viet Nam war protesters weren't so much against war as against the U.S. winning the war. And I couldn't be a part of that. So, there I was with all the energy and moral superiority of youth wanting to do something to end this war that I couldn't stomach. But my roommate, Stan, and his Straussian friends appeared with an answer to my dilemma. They had formed a more moderate organization that was recruiting students to act against the war without marching in the streets and cheering the success of America's enemies. Instead they drafted petitions and recruited students to go door to door getting the petitions signed and educating the public about the war. So I became involved in this organization. I helped with organizing and helped to staff a little office we set up in a room donated by the local Unitarian church. (I even went to a few services at the Unitarian church. But they seemed rather meatless after my Baptist upbringing.)The main organizers of this little anti-war enterprise were all Straussians and all students of Mike, the professor who taught Straussian political ideas in Cal State Long Beach's political science department.Leo Strauss would probably have approved of this organization since it drained energy away from the mad rabble who were out on the streets. Strauss would have had little use for this mob since it was just such a mob that had executed Socrates for corrupting the youth of Athens. The fear of the mob and the excesses it is capable of is a major theme and motivation in the work of Leo Strauss. He contended that his great hero, Plato, had written cryptically and symbolically in order to both communicate his elitist ideas but still be free from harm from the rabble. Strauss and Plato both despised the mob and felt the mob was incapable of the wisdom necessary for the exercise of power.I now have recollections of the nature of leftie hate and malevolence. I have said I could not support America's enemies. But it is more complex. My anger at the war often got channeled into hate for LBJ, Nixon, Westmoreland, and even military people in general. I'm ashamed to say it now, but I took a rageful enjoyment of the death of American soldiers. They had to die so that I could be proved right. And I was very aware that this sick enjoyment was shared by many of my contemporaries. It helped drive many of them to openly rooting for the Viet Cong. And it helps explains the shabby treatment that many returning soldiers received. I think the present anti-war movement is little different. The human psyche acts in certain general and often repeated patterns. So I think I can safely say that very many anti-war activists take intense and secret pleasure in the death or maiming of any American soldier: being human is a mixed bag and it isn't always pretty or praiseworthy.

When I was a Leftie -- part one

In 1970 I was an agnostic leftie. I was going to school at Cal State Long Beach. I was studying Homer, Virgil, Dante, and ontology among other things. I had a roommate who was very friendly with a professor named Mike. And Mike taught political science and had studied under a student of Leo Strauss'. So I picked up some of the teachings of Strauss from my roommate, who was named Stan, and from some of his friends. I also read Bloom's commentary on The Republic. College was exciting. I was also drunk a lot of the time, smoked the odd joint, did acid from time to time, and enjoyed speed way too much.Then, in 1970, Nixon invaded Cambodia. I was a semi-dedicated opponent of the war in Viet Nam. And, like many of my fellow students, I felt that going to Cambodia was going too far. Enough of us boycotted class to cause the administration to close the whole school for a few days. College administrators were spineless back then, too.A local head shop had a small auditorium and about 50 of us met there to decide how best to send a message to the president. All of us lefties in Long Beach had been carrying a grudge because the city had spent so much money to acquire the Queen Mary. It had really been a fascist display of complete disregard for the real needs of the people. (The money could have been better spent providing us with reasonably priced acid and speed.) So, it was decided we would all go down to the Queen Mary and hold a protest against the invasion.My friend Doug had a light tan VW bug and I rode in it with him down to the QM. (Doug was an interesting person. I knew him from my philosophy classes. He was a truck driver who decided he wanted to study philosophy. So, he worked part time and got a bachelor's degree in philosophy. Then he went back to driving his truck. I asked him why he wasn't going to use his degree for something. And he said he had just wanted to learn about philosophy, which he had done and now he would be a happier truck driver.) Doug and I were among the first to arrive at the QM. As we were taking the escalator up we could see the first guy to arrive on the first landing. There were 4 or 5 cops around him and all of the cops were beating him like hell with their nightsticks. We could see large streams of blood spurting upward from the guy. Doug turned and ran down the up escalator. I was stunned and just stared at this sight that boys like me from the suburbs seldom, if ever saw. But as soon as I got to the top I quickly got on the down escalator and made an escape.The next day many of us went to Westwood to join in a large march protesting the invasion and the war. At the march the crowd began chanting, "Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh! NLF is going to win." I found this more stunning than the previous night's beating. I couldn't chant something so traitorous. I rather like America and I think our Constitution is one of mankind's greatest creations. My father, who grew up during the Depression, and ended up a solid member of the middle class had taught me that being born in America is truly a stroke of good fortune. I separated myself emotionally from those loons and never went to another demonstration or march