The Thing in Itself

— J. Chr. de Vries

One should envision the fifth thing as that through which every being is knowable and truly exists. 

Plato — Seventh Letter

Fact or Fiction?

Upon careful consideration, throughout my life as a lecturer in Ethics in the Arts at the School of Journalism, I have grappled with the question of how the authentic and the apocryphal not only relate to each other but also to their possible subject. What is truth, is the underlying question, and what conditions must something – for instance, a proposition, a perspective, or a statement – meet in order to be qualified as ‘true.’ The proposition 1 + 1 = 2 is true, there’s no need to complicate that, but we must specify its context: it is true within the numerical system. 1 apple + 1 apple = 2 apples is also true in itself, but if one apple is larger than the other, disputes can arise when dividing them; our sensory experience sets the limits. The statement that, if we drop a crystal glass, it shatters is indeed true when we are standing on a stone floor but not if, for example, we are lying in bed. A recent encounter I had with two former students of mine brought this problem back into focus. I decided to report this to Haas in a letter; writing would sharpen my thinking, and who knows, he might provide me with a critical and fruitful commentary. Or not. With Haas, you never know if and how he will react. Below is the substantive part of my letter; I have omitted all greetings, pleasantries, and mundane announcements, as they are not relevant to this text. Occasionally, it doesn’t hurt to confine oneself to the factual and leave the fictional to the reader’s imagination.

The Thing in Itself — Letter to Taunis Haas

Coincidence comes from above, I thought during a conversation I had with Casper den Tweeph, a former student of mine whom I unexpectedly ran into at the book market on Korte Poten in The Hague. We hadn’t seen or spoken to each other for several years and decided to have a drink on the terrace of De Posthoorn, a short walk from the stall where we met. It comes to us by chance, and falling generally happens from top to bottom. Whether someone has thrown it down from the sky or it’s some natural phenomenon, or — and that’s also a seriously considered option — whether it doesn’t exist at all, scientists and theologians have not yet reached a consensus on that. So, if it doesn’t come from below, I pondered further, then it’s certainly not in our foundations; our roots.
 “Do you mean our unexpected encounter?” Casper asked when I had shared my modest reflections with him. I replied that it concerned a more fundamental matter. Just before that, he had talked about research he was conducting, an intriguing history surrounding the enigmatic figure of Matthiam Scuëde, a nineteenth-century mathematician and publicist. Casper was investigating the theory that Scuëde had written about Christoph Meiners’ hypothesis, suggesting that Plato’s ‘Seventh Letter’ should be considered apocryphal. The coincidence I referred to was a meeting a few days before my encounter with Casper with his former classmate, Zoe Stederdronk. She, too, was engaged in a study of Christoph Meiners, but from a different perspective: that of slavery and racism.


A few days ago, on July 1st to be exact, I was walking through Oosterpark in Amsterdam, where I came across Zoe during the annual commemoration of the abolition of slavery in our country on July 1, 1863. We hadn’t seen or spoken to each other for several years. She was surprised to see me there as I wasn’t known for my political stances or actions. I explained that I was on my way to Artis; from time to time, I like to see elephants in the flesh. I have a soft spot for these giants, although I have no idea why. We briefly spoke, she told me about her research, and expressed an interest in meeting with me to exchange ideas.
 “Definitely something for Zoe,” Casper remarked. He was referring to her political activism, especially in the area of racism. Zoe had Surinamese heritage, with a father of Ghanaian descent and a mother of Hindu roots. I recalled the sometimes heated debates between the two. ‘You have it easy as a white, heterosexual man,’ Zoe would say when the arguments momentarily stalled. ‘That’s a tu quoque,’ Casper would retort. ‘It’s not a tu quoque at all,’ Zoe would reply vehemently. ‘Your arguments precisely articulate that colonial thinking; it’s ingrained in your system!’ And so on. However, these debates had never hindered their collegiality, nor her appreciation for me as a teacher, despite accusing me of the same. While I tried not to take sides in the discussions, I must admit that I sometimes found Zoe’s views quite dogmatic and too rigid.


Both of them were highly intelligent, and they possessed a substantial dose of humor, which I think prevented the discussions from getting out of hand. Therefore, Casper’s question didn’t surprise me: “Can I be there for your meeting with Zoe?” I replied that I had actually intended to suggest that. I proposed meeting at my place, in the garden, over a meal. The weather was lovely, summer-like, and why not combine business with pleasure? And so it was. About a week later, the three of us sat at the garden table in comfortable, cushioned chairs; a large parasol mostly covered the table, allowing each of us to choose between sitting in the shade or in the sun. We started our meeting around five in the afternoon. I had chilled wine, soft drinks, sparkling water, and snacks ready. Casper and Zoe had both brought backpacks with their research materials, books, and notebooks, and, of course, the inevitable laptops. I had created a kind of agenda, a list of points that could be discussed, without constricting the conversation. These were more like starting points for an exploration. I had no intention of reaching conclusive results; they had to draw their own conclusions. I wasn’t a teacher anymore. The first point I suggested was for both of them to introduce their research. Briefly, not in great depth, and certainly not in detail, but mainly to get an impression of the specific topics or issues involved. Afterward, we would identify the common ground.

In her introduction, Zoe mentioned that during her research on the roots of racism in Western Europe, she had come across the aforementioned Christoph Meiners. This German philosopher and historian from the second half of the eighteenth century was a committed polygenist, someone who believed that the different human races had no common origin, as, for example, the Christian monogenistic doctrine suggests, where all humans are believed to descend from Adam and Eve. The problem with polygenism is that it places certain races above others, sowing the seeds for racial hatred and racism. Meiners was the editor of the anti-Kantian journal Philosophische Bibliothek. However, Zoe pointed out that the anti-Kantian stance is complex, as Kant himself held racist views for a significant part of his life, which he only revised towards the end of his life. “Perhaps something to examine later, but I must emphasize that I’m not an expert in Kant’s philosophy,” she added, gesturing with her hands to indicate the conclusion of her introduction and taking a sip from her glass.


“The fact that Christianity advocates a monogenistic doctrine doesn’t make that doctrine very acceptable to me,” Casper said, “but the other one isn’t great either.”


“Hello!” Zoe retorted, “We’re not looking for non sequiturs.”


I shook my head, knowing precisely how this bickering would continue to unfold, so I cut it off abruptly. I also noted how, after all those years of teaching, I still didn’t understand where this unproductive bickering came from. To be so intelligent and yet engage in such futile squabbling – what was that all about? Youthful courtship behavior?


Casper mentioned that he had come across Meiners’ name in an essay by Giorgio Agamben about Plato’s ‘Seventh letter,’ in which Plato wrote about The Thing in Itself. Meiners claimed that the letter was apocryphal. Agamben mentioned the year 1783, which could be related to the text Geschichte des Luxus der Athenienser von den ältesten Zeiten an bis auf den Tod Philipps von Makedonien from the previous year. Casper hadn’t read that text yet because Meiners was not his initial research focus; he was primarily interested in the issue of the ‘Thing’. However, he later came across a text by Matthiam Scuëde in which the labeling of the seventh letter as apocryphal by Meiners was the subject. Shortly thereafter, he had met me, and he concluded his introduction with, “And now the three of us are here in the garden, having dinner.”


I suggested that we discuss these two points: Plato’s ‘Thing’ and the issue of declaring Plato’s text on the ‘Thing’ as apocryphal. Do these two points have any connection? ‘And whether Meiners’ racism is related to this,’ Zoe had added. This led us to three themes: The Thing in Itself, Apocryphal versus Authentic, and Western European racism. And of course, the question of what the common ground between these themes might be, if there was any, as it was not a settled matter at least for me. Zoe had a more pronounced view on this, believing that racism definitely played a role in this matter, while Casper remained neutral.

We decided to start with a meal and used this pleasure to determine an order for our discussion points. The first point would be Plato’s ‘Thing’. Since none of us had sufficient expertise on the work of this ancient Greek giant, and none of us could claim to formulate a well-founded description of this issue of the ‘Thing,’ we decided to start from Scuëde’s theory. Whether it was correct or not didn’t directly affect our exploration of the common ground. At least, we suspected so. An intriguing aspect of our plan was that one of the points, namely apocryphal versus authentic, was already embedded in this starting point. We couldn’t ascertain with certainty whether Scuëde’s theory was factual or fictional, a valid representation of Plato’s ‘Thing’ or an (intriguing in itself) fantasy. After some discussion, we concluded that this was an advantage. Whether our approach could effortlessly withstand scientific scrutiny was perhaps doubtful, although this aspect could also be considered as an element of the same starting point, with ‘scientific’ standing for ‘authentic’ and ‘interpretation’ for ‘apocryphal’; it concerned the consistency of our reasoning in both cases. As for myself, I had no scientific pretensions; I was interested in the story that I hoped lay hidden within our ‘learning conversation’. What the two of them wanted to do with it further was up to them. We had each shared our own motivations for being together, and none of us had any issues with that. This letter to you is thus based on my personal interpretation.

To Pragma Auto

Scuëde described Plato’s issue of the ‘thing in itself’ (in Greek: to pragma auto) as follows: In the said ‘seventh letter,’ Plato – whether apocryphal or not – provides the example of a circle. There are five aspects (according to Scuëde, Plato uses the term ‘things,’ but we would probably use the terms ‘aspects’ or ‘concepts’ here) that can be understood in relation to each ‘Thing.’ It should be clear that what applies to the circle also applies to all conceivable objects or concepts, such as figures, people, actions, ideas, or stories.

1. The name – in this case, ‘circle’.
2. The definition – in this case, ‘a closed line where each point is equidistant from another point: the ‘center.’
3. The image – for example, a drawing of a circle.
4. All available knowledge on the subject – in this case, geometric and mathematical knowledge, as well as its significance for humans.
5. The thing in itself – in this case, the previous four points come together, forming a symbiotic relationship, and make the ‘Thing’ something we can understand, apply, and experience as a true ‘essence.’

It should be noted, according to Scuëde, that Plato did not want to formulate this fifth point. In the letter, which is a commentary on Dionysius II, who was the ruler of the Greek colony of Sicily at the time, he writes: [There] is no work of my hand, nor will there ever be, that deals with these matters. Only with the right intelligence and skill is it possible to adequately understand and apply the ‘fifth thing’. That is not granted to everyone, and formulating this matter therefore does more harm than good.


Interestingly, there is a parallel that can be drawn with a statement by Socrates in Plato’s Phaedrus dialogue. Plato attributes the following words to Socrates in his dialogue (speaking of authentic or apocryphal!):

I cannot help but be under the impression, Phaedrus, that writing, unfortunately, is similar to painting; for the creations of the painter appear to behave like life, yet when you question them, they clothe themselves in solemn silence. The same can be said of speeches. You might think they contain intelligence, but when you seek to learn something and you interrogate them, the speaker always provides the same answer. And when they are written down, these texts swirl about, amidst those who may or may not have understood them, and they do not know who they should or should not respond to: and, if they are abused or mistreated, they have no parent to protect them; and they cannot protect or defend themselves.

What is going on here? Scuëde wonders in his text. Socrates opposes written text, so he himself never wrote a word; we know his views mainly through his disciple Plato, who did write them down. However, Plato evidently did not want to write down everything; some things were taboo, much like the issue of that ‘fifth thing’. On the other hand, there was apparently no objection to formulating the first four ‘things’. The question that Scuëde found himself facing was what the fundamental difference was between the last and the first four ‘things’. He had to take a circuitous route to address this.

In this phase of my letter, I have decided to keep the account of the meeting with Casper and Zoe as distant as possible. As factual as possible, if you will. Not only because of the sometimes rather juvenile confrontations between the two former students, which not only bothered me but I am quite sure you wouldn’t be interested in either. For now, both of them are therefore out of the picture until — if it might be illuminating — I conjure them back up. We shall see, that is, at this moment, I do not know this myself. But I also do this to stay as relevant as possible in discussing the complex topics.


Back to Scuëde: the difference between the first four and the last aspect (or ‘thing’). The circuitous route I mentioned concerns the dichotomy still in use — even in our time — between ‘form’ and ‘content’. We must realize that Scuëde lived in the nineteenth century and therefore had no knowledge of later considerations of this dichotomy.


Scuëde places the first three aspects (‘things’) into the concept of form. With the third ‘thing,’ this is clear, an image can be considered a form. As for the first aspect, the name, we will also have no trouble with it. But the second ‘thing’ needs some explanation. When, as Scuëde understandably does, you take the definition of the circle as a starting point, because of Plato, it is reasonable to consider it as an element of the form. But if, for example, you were to take the definition of a human as a starting point, it becomes rather problematic.

Such a definition would only concern the ‘exterior’, essentially what Plato did, according to the traditions via Diogenes Laërtius, in his chapter on Diogenes the Cynic:

Plato defined a human as follows: A two-legged animal without feathers, and was highly praised for this definition. Subsequently, Diogenes plucked a rooster and threw it into Plato’s school, saying, “Behold, Plato’s human”. To this, the definition was then added: With broad, flat nails.

(To be honest, I must admit that this Diogenes quote came from Casper. I was familiar with it, but hadn’t connected it to this issue.)


In any case, we would not accept such a superficial definition nowadays; typical human psychological attributes must be included in the definition. Scuëde does consider this argument, but not with ‘human’ as the object in mind. He suggests that the fourth aspect falls under the concept of ‘content,’ and that all elements that do not fit under the definition are covered in this fourth ‘thing.’ So, he would most likely include the psychological elements in this fourth aspect.


And then comes Scuëde’s great trick: the fifth aspect makes the whole concept of the dichotomy of form and content suddenly work. He first examines whether both concepts can exist separately.

Let’s try to learn more about a possible relationship between form and content. Can they exist alongside each other, independent of the other? Concerning content, this seems impossible to me; without form, there is no content. A text is already form, the language in which the text is written is form. The paper, ink, and book are form.

But now, what about the opposite, does form exist without content? You could call an empty wine bottle form without content. Unless you argue that the air inside the bottle is now the content, in other words, there is always content, just not always in accordance with the (implied) form. This seems to lead to a circular argument, but when we connect the concept of context to that wine bottle, we have a tool to break that circle. The wine bottle suggests content consisting of wine. Air does not meet this criterion, so the empty wine bottle has no content. But what if we find a wine bottle filled with milk? We certainly won’t say that it’s empty. However, a slight shift in our perspective provides the solution: both bottles are filled with a similar liquid, namely a drinkable substance. Instead of a wine bottle or milk bottle, it is then a ‘beverage bottle.’ But we still need to further examine this matter.

What about Robert Boyle’s vacuum pump, for instance? At first glance, it seems empty, but it contains a gas, or actually, a combination of different gases, namely air. However, when the bulb of this device is vacuum-pumped, we could say it is genuinely empty. Then, there is only the form. The difference between air and a vacuum can only be perceived when we, as Boyle did numerous times, place a little bird inside. As long as there is air inside, it keeps chirping, but when we empty the bulb, the little bird eventually stops.

That is the solution to the problem, the chosen perspective, the selected context, determines the content of the form. Therefore, the bottle is never ‘full’ or ‘empty’ without the added context of the observer. But, and this completes our circle, without a bottle, the observer cannot perceive content. However, we can take one more step: form and content clearly constitute a whole; they cannot exist without each other. Although one of them (the form) can exist without the other (the content), the other (the content) cannot exist without the one (the form). In other words, when there is content, there is form; the dichotomy of form and content dissolves when there is content.

After this observation, Scuëde could arrive at the following statement: form can exist by itself, but content cannot. When content is linked to the form, the dichotomy between both concepts disappears. The dichotomy of form and content dissolves when there is content.


The ‘fifth thing’ had precisely this function. By relating the first four aspects to each other, the distinction between all five ‘things’ is resolved — aufgehoben, is the term he uses, so not only resolved but also elevated to a higher level. This makes the ‘fifth thing’ special, and according to Scuëde, this is precisely the reason for Plato’s reluctance to write about it; because this writing is actually the application of this ‘fifth thing’ to itself. For Plato, this is a taboo, it goes beyond the limits of what can be said (or written). It would disturb the Soul.

Apocryphical versus Authentic

Scuëde now faced the following problem: on the one hand, Plato had tabooed writing about the ‘fifth thing’, and on the other hand, he had written about it in the ‘Seventh letter’. Did this mean that this letter should be considered apocryphal because Plato had written that he would never write about it, and therefore, the authenticity of the letter must be incredible? Scuëde came across a publication by Christoph Meiners, the aforementioned Geschichte des Luxus… from 1783, in which Plato’s letter was possibly designated as apocryphal. However, Scuëde could not find a direct connection in Meiners’ text between Plato’s taboo and the apocryphal declaration. Nevertheless, this did not mean that the reason for this declaration was not inherent in the theory of the thing in itself. Did Plato’s theory for some reason pose a danger to Meiners’ agenda? Thus, for his agenda of polygenism and the resulting racist ideology. Regarding the first point, polygenism, Scuëde claimed that he did indeed find concrete evidence in a lost letter from 1783, from Meiners to Edward Long, a British polygenist and supporter of slavery. In this letter, Meiners stated that Plato’s theory of the ‘fifth thing’ was dangerous to the theory of human diversity in origin due to its symbiotic nature. Plato’s theory would undermine the foundation of polygenism. Declaring it apocryphal was a strategic move with no historical basis. The curious thing, as pointed out by Casper — since this issue was his research — was that Scuëde did not mention whether racist motives also played a role in this matter.

At this point in our discussion, Zoe mentioned that she didn’t find this surprising at all. She had delved into the figure of Scuëde in the days leading up to our garden meeting. I must honestly say that from this point on, our conversation took an intriguing turn.
 Zoe argued that Scuëde, as one of the few non-noble individuals, had been appointed a knight in the Danish Order of the Elephant [Elefantordenen]. Zoe had looked into this order and found a racist element there — the emblem, the insignia of the order, which is embroidered on the blue ribbon attached to the silver star, features the image of a white elephant with a red castle tower and a black, or at the very least, colored elephant rider seated on the elephant’s head. This man is undoubtedly enslaved, Zoe concluded; the emblem is racist. She showed an image of the insignia, and her conclusion seemed difficult to deny.
 “But here’s the twist!” Zoe wanted to add to the suspense.

“But first, a question for Casper: what is the source of that text by Scuëde to which you keep referring? I think you don’t have an original text by Scuëde at your disposal, only secondary sources, or am I mistaken?”


Casper admitted that this was the case. He had gleaned the main information from a biography of Scuëde by Count Ebe Edison. There was also a correspondence between Scuëde and his friend and confidant, the clergyman Karl Theodor Phintgod.


“That makes your exposition apocryphal, doesn’t it?” It wasn’t a question; Zoe stated it.


Casper explained that the biography refers to Scuëde’s text titled To pragma auto, in which he expounded his theory about Plato and Meiners. This text is lost. So, the only source containing concrete fragments of the text is that biography. The correspondence also refers to the same text. The text undoubtedly existed, according to Casper. Additionally, there is a letter from Scuëde to Karl Ludwig Büchner, a German physician, philosopher, and natural scientist. Karl Ludwig’s full name was Friedrich Karl Christian Ludwig Büchner; he was, by the way, the brother of Georg Büchner, known for the opera by Alban Berg based on Georg Büchner’s unfinished drama, Woyzeck.


Casper’s explanation continued: “This Karl Ludwig Büchner is somewhat of a detour, but relevant enough to take a moment to discuss. Somewhere in the mid-19th century, he wrote a book, Kraft und Stoff, which I read in a Dutch translation published by the Roode Bibliotheek in Amsterdam,” Casper further explained. “The book is an attempt to debunk the (19th-century) ‘myth of the soul.’ It is fully in line with Darwinism.” Casper went on to explain that the book advocates for materialism, with Büchner opposing ‘spiritualism’. According to him, ‘force’ without ‘substance’ is nonexistent. The book is quite extensive and features chapters with titles like The Imperishability of Matter, The Imperishability of Force, The Invariability of Natural Laws, and Heaven, where the concept of God is questioned: While religion teaches us that we are destined to go to heaven after our life on Earth, astronomy teaches us that we are right in the middle of that heaven.


Casper continued, “A chapter of interest to us is The Brain and the Soul. After providing an extensive description of the human brain, especially in comparison to that of animals, the author concludes that the soul is nothing more than an indication of the totality of a whole series of activities of the brain and the associated nervous system. There are descriptions of experiments on animals where parts of their brains are removed slice by slice to demonstrate that there is certainly no soul to be found; these animal experiments would not pass the scrutiny of the Aktiegroep Lekker Dier [Dutch Action Group on the rights of animals] for sure. Büchner clearly does not favor what he calls ‘spiritualistic’ theories about the soul, in which the soul is portrayed as a kind of purely spiritual, immaterial entity. At the end of the chapter, the author touches upon what he refers to as the last desperate leap of the spiritualists. I quote:

All this may have been the cause of a last desperate leap of the spiritualists, namely the so-called Keyboard Theory, according to which the soul stands in the same relationship to the brain as a keyboard player does to his instrument. A keyboard that grows, lives, falls ill, and dies simultaneously with its master because it becomes unsuitable for thinking after the master has withdrawn — all of this is such a peculiar phenomenon that the term ‘last desperate leap’ is certainly not an exaggeration here.

The translator adds an interesting note here — for the Dutch reader who might not understand Büchner’s reference. Casper emptied his glass and calmly refilled it before launching into the anecdote.

“Büchner is referring to a story that ‘circulated in the musical world a few years ago’ about a day with piano exams at the Leipzig Conservatory. After the entire day of various examinees performing a particular piano piece and after the last candidate had left the instrument, the piano started playing the same piece on its own, without a performer, and in a flawless manner.”


“Truly, everything about your research is apocryphal!” Zoe grinned at him.


I immediately extended my arms, like a true referee during a boxing match. “I’m still waiting for the connection to Scuëde,” I quickly interjected.


Casper looked somewhat disappointed but continued his argument. He explained that the connection was the letter that Scuëde had written to Büchner. In it, he mentioned the title of his text about Meiners, the text that had disappeared. Nevertheless, this letter is one of the sources that proves the letter did indeed exist. Considering his views, which were undoubtedly related to Darwin’s theories, Büchner was clearly opposed to polygenists like Meiners. Scuëde hoped to find support from Büchner, but it’s highly unlikely that Büchner ever replied. “I thought of that anecdote about the piano exams in Leipzig because of our topic on authenticity versus apocrypha,” he added as a kind of apology.


“That anecdote is certainly amusing,” I observed, “but Büchner’s entire exposition could be seen as a denial of that ‘fifth thing’. Plato spoke about the soul in that context for a reason.”


“That might explain why Büchner never answered him,” Zoe remarked. I agreed with her, but Casper wasn’t giving up yet.


“You could actually view all those arguments and experiments as an application of that ‘fifth thing’, couldn’t you? Bringing together all the other aspects and arriving at a particular conclusion. It’s still a question whether what Plato understands as the ‘soul’ is equivalent to the 19th-century concept that Büchner refers to.”

We continued to discuss this for a while, but at some point, I cut it short because it wasn’t leading to anything useful for our topic. I suggested we move on to Scuëde’s biography, which might be another, potentially more interesting source for his text. Zoe made quick hand gestures, as her mouth was full of nuts, she swallowed them quickly, and said:


“I wanted to mention that earlier! But then that detailed exposition about Büchner got in the way.” I signaled with a hand gesture that she could still make her point. She explained that she had also come across that biographer and had read that the withdrawal of the text might be related to the award of the knighthood. “It’s described rather ambiguously, but I interpret it as suggesting that the award of the knighthood was the reason for withdrawing that text. Have you found more information about this?”


“Yes, indeed,” replied Casper, “but oddly enough, not through that biographer. Instead, I found it in a letter from Scuëde addressed to his friend, Phintgod.”


There was something strange about that biography at this point, Casper explained, as if the withdrawal of the text about Meiners had to be concealed. If he hadn’t found that letter to Scuëde’s friend Phintgod, this aspect would have remained unresolved. And it was purely by chance that he found the letter in an antiquarian book; he didn’t find anything about it on the internet. In that letter, Scuëde writes about an ‘impossible dilemma’ he found himself in, seeking advice from his friend. One day, he learned through a mutual acquaintance that the Order of the Elephant’s committee was considering awarding the Order to him, but there were still two problems; or rather, two problems clung to it. The first problem was his religious background; he was raised a Roman Catholic, and the Order can only be awarded to individuals of the Protestant faith. This problem was solvable. Scuëde was by no means a practicing Catholic, and he didn’t consider switching to a Protestant church to be a significant obstacle, given the importance of the distinction. The Protestant pastor, who was from a Protestant background, would certainly be able to assist him with this. However, the other problem was more sensitive.


“And you’ll find this particularly interesting, Zoe!” he said to her with a grin. “Your comment about the racist element in the Order’s emblem was right on the spot.” It turned out, he continued, that there was a hidden sore spot here, and Scuëde’s text could be seen as criticism of the Order because the text, at least implicitly, took a stance against Meiners’ racism.


In short, Scuëde had to choose between receiving the Order of the Elephant and preserving his text. He chose the Order, and, therefore, the text had to disappear. But it had to disappear thoroughly, so the biographer was not allowed to dedicate an explicit paragraph to it. Consequently, a veiled description was included that no one could take issue with.


“Well,” Zoe exclaimed, “this is unbelievable! And then they still deny the existence of systemic racism, even in academia!”


To prevent a new boxing match, I told her that no rational person would deny the existence of racist symptoms in all layers of our society, but it was going too far to blame the entire field of science. This was about a knighthood.


“If we qualify Scuëde’s text as scientific, then also in science,” Zoe insisted.


“But we’re talking about the 19th century, right?” Casper said.


“Even in the present day, we’ll undoubtedly find some scientists with racist tendencies, which is unfortunate but undeniable. However, polygenism is far from gone. There are still debates about the monogenistic view of Christian religion. We’re not done yet!” I concluded cheerfully. “But we’ve made progress. Let’s try to wrap this up.”


We tried to create a brief summary, reviewing the three points of our discussion. The ‘Thing’ of Plato had been extensively covered, and there were no misunderstandings left regarding it. The crux lay in the other two points.

Regarding the issue of racism, it was clear that it had played a role in some way in declaring the Plato letter as apocryphal and in obscuring the attempt to label it as authentic. However, the evidence was indirect. In the present time, especially since the last century, the letter is considered authentic. Casper added that a letter from Phintgod to Scuëde suggests that the latter expected the letter to be considered authentic within ‘not too long’. Phintgod seems to react to a comment from Scuëde, in which he stated that this thought ultimately persuaded him to choose the Order and make his text disappear. Zoe noted that this supported her to continue her research. Racism must be eradicated root and branch, she said. There was no arguing with that. But we all seemed to be in favior of ‘world peace’ at the same time, I thought, without saying it out loud. Reality is complex.

Here, dear Haas, my story about Plato’s ‘Thing’ and the discussion with my two former students comes to an end. I didn’t want to spend too much time on the issue of racism, systemic or not, as it is too complex for a garden dinner. I still don’t have an answer to the problem that, for its analysis, methods and techniques must be used that may themselves be part of it. How can we know this?

Postscript

To my surprise, Haas had condescended to respond to my letter.

Lieber J. Chr.,

Thank you for your detailed report of the meeting with your two former students. Very interesting! I only want to express two things: Has it occurred to you that the qualifications ‘authentic’ and ‘apocryphal’ ultimately form a symbiosis? That ‘fifth thing’ brings about this symbiosis. That was the reason why Plato didn’t want to write down this aspect. It wasn’t a taboo; it was an observation.

The anecdote about the piano exams, and Büchner’s sentence about the ‘heaven’, beautifully illustrate this. Religion and stories on one hand, science on the other, both form a symbiotic whole that makes us human. Who would humans be without their dreams?

The other thing concerns (systemic) racism. In my country, we have gained enough experience with it. The only way to find out whether the methods and techniques are free of it is through practice. Rewriting history would be a dramatic mistake, but rethinking it is necessary.

Sincerely,
—TH

Dreams are also an essential part of our physical system, I pondered after reading the letter. Without dreams, we cannot live, even for purely physical reasons. I suddenly thought of a painting that was once known as the work of a student of Rembrandt but was suddenly declared ‘authentic’ by various experts. The same painting, the same paint, the same canvas, and the same brushstrokes, but the difference between ‘authentic’ and ‘apocryphal’ was a fortune. Perhaps authenticity itself contains an apocryphal element.

— Den Haag, July 1, 2016