A Written Republic: Cicero’s Philosophical Politics by Yelena Baraz (review)

Was it respectable and civic-minded for upper-class Romans to write philosophy, or indeed any sort of literature? The question clearly mattered, at least to Cicero, and it is the problem Yelena Baraz addresses in A Written Republic. Baraz’s focus is the set of philosophical works starting with Hortensius (early 45 b.c.e.) and ending with De Officiis (late 44), concentrating on the justifications Cicero gives for his writing in the prefaces, above all his claim that philosophical activity was a public service. Baraz starts in chapter 1 by looking at Cicero’s own statements about the limits of his philosophizing and at justifications for literary activity in other writers. In chapter 2 she discusses the attitudes toward and uses of philosophy in Cicero’s letters. In the three following chapters, Baraz examines three significant aspects of the prefaces: the civic value of Cicero’s “translation” of Greek philosophy (ch. 3), his self-justifications (ch. 4), and the prefaces as captatio benevolentiae (ch. 5). A final chapter discusses the works written after the Ides of March, and looks more broadly at the significance of Cicero’s choices of dedicatee and topic throughout the writings of 45–44.

Baraz’s greatest contribution lies in her analyses of language and rhetoric. Her ability to tease out the implications of Cicero’s choice of words and her skill at untangling his often oblique and suggestive sentences are admirable. When she observes of the convoluted argument of the preface to De Finibus 1 that “Cicero’s practice is to refute an objection and then claim that it does not in fact apply to him in the first place” (118), she succinctly dissects a rhetorical ploy that Cicero uses in the forensic speeches as well as the philosophical writings. So too, her discussion of the vocabulary of friendship and law in the preface to the Topica (156–173) is subtle and suggestive. Her exegetical abilities are evident not merely in connection with the prefaces themselves, but with the letters adduced in chapter 2 and with Sallust’s prefaces in chapter 1.

Baraz’s very precision in dealing with language does not always work as well on broader issues. She considers (78–95) whether grief at his daughter’s death or his political distress is the main motive for Cicero’s turn to philosophy; but, as she knows, it is not an either/or question, and Cicero gives different weights to different explanations in texts with different subjects. More troublesome is that Baraz also seems to want to find a clear “political” meaning for the writing of the dialogues—but as her own excellent analyses show, the “political” element ranges from the civic contribution of making Greek philosophy available, to an attempt to bring ethical argument to bear on public issues, to a desire to move Brutus (the most frequent addressee) towards political opposition to Caesar. All are true of various works at various times; but there is no reason to believe that Cicero himself always had one particular motive: “public implications” (95) gets it right, but Baraz often wants more precision than that. She recognizes that these prefaces are rhetorical and context-sensitive; but she also implies that behind this rhetoric lurks, at least in Cicero’s mind, a single and coherent understanding of his own intentions.

One could also wish that Baraz had considered a wider group of texts. Because the writings beginning with Hortensius form a largely coherent group, she omits the earlier works, both rhetorical and philosophical, and that is a mistake: there is much relevant material in the prefaces of the earlier dialogues, and there is a direct link between the role of Hortensius in the Brutus and the Hortensius itself. Broadening her field would deepen (and complicate) some of Baraz’s arguments about engagement and otium. The discussion of dedications and political intention in chapter 6 would also benefit from a broader look...