Byzantine Philosophy(ies?)

Byzantine Philosophy(ies?): An Interview with Jonathan Grieg

By Guillermo Ruz

November 2024 – In this November issue, IPM sits down to enjoy some coffee and cinnamon rolls with Jonathan Greig to explore what Byzantine philosophy really is and where the field is headed. As a leading voice in this area, Jonathan’s research shines a light on the rich and often complex world of Byzantine thought. His impressive body of work delves into topics like Neoplatonism, metaphysics, and the relationship between reason and faith, bringing fresh insights to areas that have often been overlooked. Jonathan is helping shape how we understand Byzantine Philosophy’s lasting impact on medieval philosophy and beyond.

About Jonathan Grieg

Jonathan Greig is a postdoctoral researcher at Humboldt University of Berlin and a member of Dr. Anna Izdebska’s project, Visions of the History of Greek Philosophy in Late Antiquity and in the Greek and Arabic Middle Ages. This project, funded by the Volkswagen Stiftung, delves into the process of constructing knowledge about the formative period of Greek philosophy. Given the fragmentary state of texts from early Greek philosophers, researchers must rely heavily on reconstructions and interpretations passed down over centuries. However, this project goes beyond the pursuit of reconstructing the past. It seeks to explore how specific intellectual groups and individual authors, ranging from the early Roman Empire through Late Antiquity to the Arabic and Byzantine Middle Ages, crafted their own visions of Greek philosophy’s legacy. These “visions” reflect not only their understanding of philosophy but also their perception of their role in its ongoing development, navigating between reason and authority and between differing views within the tradition.

Jonathan’s scholarly journey has taken him across multiple countries and institutions. Before his current role, he was an FWO postdoctoral fellow at KU Leuven, where he examined the concept of sensible substance in Byzantine Christian thought from the 4th to 8th centuries and its reception of Neoplatonism. He holds degrees from Thomas Aquinas College (California) and the University of Edinburgh (Scotland) and earned his PhD from LMU Munich in 2018 with a focus on the causality of the One in late Neoplatonism. Jonathan also completed a postdoctoral fellowship at the Austrian Academy of Sciences, where he studied Proclus’ reception in Byzantine thought from the 12th to 14th centuries.

His key publications demonstrate a deep engagement with Neoplatonic and Byzantine philosophical traditions. Among them is The First Principle in Late Neoplatonism: A Study of the One’s Causality in Proclus and Damascius (Brill, 2021), a comprehensive examination of the causal role of the One in late Neoplatonic thought. His articles further explore these issues, such as “Proclus on the Two Causal Models for the One’s Production of Being: Reconciling the Relation of the Henads and the Limit/Unlimited” in the International Journal of Platonic Tradition (2020), where he analyzes Proclus’ approach to reconciling metaphysical causation. In “The Aporetic Method of Aristotle’s Metaphysics B in Damascius’ De Principiis” (History of Philosophy and Logical Analysis, 2021), Jonathan delves into how Damascius employs Aristotle’s aporetic method to engage with fundamental metaphysical questions. His article, “Reason, Revelation, and Sceptical Argumentation in 12th- to 14th-Century Byzantium” (Theoria, 2021), examines how Byzantine thinkers navigated the tensions between human reason and divine revelation. Additionally, his forthcoming study, “Proclus’ Reception in Maximus the Confessor, Mediated through John Philoponus and Dionysius the Ps.-Areopagite: A Case Study of Ambiguum 7,” explores how Proclus’ influence permeated Byzantine theological and philosophical discourse through key intermediaries.

The Interview

Guillermo Ruz: Could you provide some context about Byzantine philosophy? Where does it originate? What elements does it recover, and what is its primary focus and contribution?

Jonathan Greig: That’s a great question. This remains a very lively and current issue—defining Byzantine philosophy and describing it as a distinct area of study. There’s also the matter of how the authors themselves understood their own work and identity. To start with, you could say it’s somewhat analogous to the medieval Latin tradition. Many figures within Byzantine philosophy engaged in a philosophical project that bridged both theology and philosophy. This included commentaries on Aristotle, as well as commentaries on Neoplatonists and figures like Proclus. Additionally, they explored theological texts that incorporated philosophical discussions.

In broad terms, the Byzantine tradition shares similarities with the Latin medieval tradition, but it differs in some important ways. One major distinction is that it retains the Greek language and tradition without the kind of continuity break seen in the Latin West or the Arabic traditions. This continuity has significant implications for its philosophical development.

Byzantine philosophy can be divided into different historical periods, though defining exact boundaries remains a matter of debate. Some trace it back to the Cappadocian Church Fathers in the 4th century, while others point to the 8th century as the starting point of what is considered “proper” Byzantine philosophy. In any case, it generally spans from the 4th or 8th century up until the fall of Constantinople in 1453, and some scholars would extend the timeline beyond this, to the 18th and 19th centuries.

From the 11th century onwards, there was a renewed interest in Neoplatonic material, leading to a significant increase in commentaries, particularly from figures like Michael Psellos. Before this period, most of the focus was on the patristic tradition and theological writings, such as those of Pseudo-Dionysius, Maximus the Confessor, and John of Damascus. Many people initially associate Byzantine philosophy primarily with these theological works, which were often complemented by scholia, or commentaries, by later authors.

The 12th-century revival in Neoplatonism marked a shift, and from that point onward, there was increased engagement with philosophical issues. For example, after the Latin invasion of Constantinople, there was a surge in translations of Latin works into Greek. This cross-cultural exchange fueled interest in how Latin thinkers, particularly those working with Aristotle, approached philosophical questions. This also impacted Byzantine theological debates, especially during the 14th-century Palamite controversy.

Philosophical discussions arising from theological issues, such as the Filioque controversy, exemplify this interaction. In this case, debates about the procession of the Holy Spirit had broader implications for logic and metaphysics, explored by figures such as Nicholas of Methone. From the 12th century onward, Byzantine thinkers increasingly engaged with and responded to Latin philosophical traditions, leading to a rich, complex interplay of ideas.

GR: OK, so just to quickly sum this up: would you say that within many fields of philosophy, rather than a singular Byzantine philosophy, we have different Byzantine philosophies that developed and evolved over time?

JG: Yes, exactly. This is one of the key issues—whether we should think of Byzantine philosophy as a unified, singular tradition or as multiple, diverse philosophies. To give a brief overview, there is one perspective that emphasizes the strictly philosophical texts, like the Aristotelian commentaries, as the core of Byzantine philosophy. According to this view, the writings of the Church Fathers or more theological works, such as those by Gregory Palamas, are seen as purely theological and distinct from philosophy proper.

On the other hand, there are scholars who take the opposite stance, arguing that Byzantine philosophy primarily resides in the theological texts and writings of figures like Maximus the Confessor, John of Damascus, and others. This viewpoint is especially prevalent among contemporary Orthodox theologians who highlight these figures as the pinnacle of Byzantine philosophical thought. For example, Palamas is sometimes treated in the same way as Thomas Aquinas is for Latin medieval philosophy, serving as a focal point of study. However, many scholars are moving away from this overly narrow view, which has parallels in how modern medieval philosophy has evolved away from an exclusive focus on Thomism.

In addition to these two camps, there is a growing group of scholars who advocate for viewing Byzantine philosophy as a plurality of traditions and genres. I tend to align more with this view. Rather than seeing it as a single, unified discipline, it is better understood as a diverse set of philosophies influenced by common sources. For instance, many Byzantine thinkers shared similar philosophical and theological texts, which creates a kind of continuity. You might also trace unity through the shared language (Greek) or the context of the Byzantine Empire. However, even this approach is nuanced.

For example, Ibn al-Fadl, living a few centuries after John of Damascus, wrote on similar issues as Byzantine philosophers while living on the fringe of the empire, in Antioch. He was writing in Arabic, but his works demonstrate a continuity with Byzantine thought due to his engagement with Greek sources. Cases like this blur the boundaries of what constitutes Byzantine philosophy, suggesting that it cannot be strictly confined to one language or geographical region.

Ultimately, this raises ongoing questions about how to define and delineate Byzantine philosophy. For those interested, I often recommend the 2007 article by Michele Trizio, Byzantine Philosophy and Its Modern Historiography. This publication offers valuable insight into how the field has evolved and how modern scholarship approaches these complex questions. I can also share a more comprehensive bibliography if you’d like.

GR: So based on everything you’ve mentioned, what are the challenges associated with studying Byzantine philosophy? Because, as you noted, there isn’t a common agreement on when it starts or ends, who belongs to this tradition, or even what defines Byzantine philosophy. Given that it’s not as widely explored, what are the available resources? How is the status of translations and editions of these works? How accessible is this field of study?

JG: This is indeed a key issue. In contrast to the situation with medieval Latin and even Arabic philosophy, the state of Byzantine texts is quite mixed. While there has been some progress, many works remain untranslated, and many have not received proper critical editions.

For instance, consider the 11th-century philosopher John Italos. There are editions of his main work, the Quaestiones quodlibitales, but they are of varying quality. The first edition (editio princeps) was done in the 1920s by a Georgian scholar, Gregorius Cereteli, while another edition appeared in 1956 by Perikles Joannou, which has become the main reference edition for scholars, although it introduced a number of problems in its reading of the manuscripts. Later, in the 1960s, another Georgian scholar, Natela Kechagmadze, produced an edition based on Cereteli’s from the 1920s, and while it offered some improvements, it still leaves much to be desired. This illustrates a broader challenge: even when editions exist, they are often in a problematic state and require further work, such as manuscript verification and correction.

Additionally, there are texts related to the reception of Gregory Palamas, who, in the 14th century, argued for a real distinction between the divine essence (ousia) and the activities, or “energies” (energeia)—a distinction that allows for human participation in God’s activities without compromising His transcendent essence. His critics, such as Gregory Akindynos, accused him of introducing heretical ideas derived from Proclus. This back-and-forth generated a series of treatises, pro- and anti-Palamite, which are critical for understanding Byzantine thought during this period. Yet, many of these texts remain poorly edited or untranslated, which makes accessing this rich dialogue difficult.

Another challenge is exemplified by Barlaam of Calabria, who engaged in debates about the Filioque—the addition of “and the Son” to the Nicene Creed’s statement of the Holy Spirit’s procession from the Father. His defense of the Orthodox position involved a unique approach to knowledge of God, arguing for reliance on Scripture as a dialectical premise since human understanding of God is inherently limited. These debates, deeply rooted in both theological and philosophical questions, are not easily accessible due to the lack of comprehensive modern editions and translations.

GR: Hence, it is not valid to talk about God with metaphysics?

JG: For Barlaam, yes. Metaphysics in this context operates through dialectical argumentation, where you begin with premises rooted in Scripture and then see what conclusions can or cannot be drawn. There isn’t a demonstrative science about God in this framework. This idea is what Barlaam argued against, claiming that it’s impossible to have a demonstrative science concerning God.

Gregory Palamas, however, disagreed, asserting that a demonstrative science of God is possible. This is where the essence-activities distinction comes into play. Palamas argued that while we cannot know God’s essence (ousia), we can have knowledge of His activities (energeia), which are participatory and real aspects of God’s presence. He was a realist in this regard, and this stance marks a fundamental aspect of the Palamite controversy.

Many scholars and theologians who have analyzed this debate often overlooked its roots, which lie in the question of whether or not there can be a demonstrative science of God. Palamas’ position runs counter to certain 20th-century Byzantine theologians who sought to distance themselves from the Latin scholastic tradition, emphasizing instead a mystical approach that contrasted with the “rational” Latins. However, Palamas himself leaned heavily into Aristotelian arguments to support his claim that such demonstrative knowledge was possible.

This led to significant debate and backlash, with figures like Barlaam strongly opposing Palamas’ distinction in God. Although the issue was formally settled by a council in Constantinople in the 14th century, questions and challenges persisted into the 15th century. For instance, the last Patriarch of Constantinople before the fall, Gregory Scholarios, defended Palamite theology but did so using the thought of both Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus. Scholarios applied a formal distinction to preserve divine simplicity while maintaining Palamas’ distinction between essence and activities as more than merely mental, yet not a division that would compromise God’s simplicity.

Interestingly, the controversy also spurred one of the major translation movements of the late 14th and early 15th centuries. The Kydones Brothers, who were in the Anti-Palamite camp, translated works of Aquinas in an effort to challenge Palamas’ position. They argued against the essence-activities distinction, claiming it was incorrect and used Aquinas as a point of reference. Scholarios, however, countered by arguing that Aquinas—and Scotus—supported Palamite positions in ways that reinforced his own theological arguments.

GR: With Arabic philosophy, we often see two distinct positions. One involves receiving and transforming ancient philosophy into a new tradition, and then having that tradition adopted and further developed within medieval Latin philosophy, though often its influence remains somewhat hidden or less acknowledged. Today, we have a clearer picture of Arabic philosophy’s role and impact in the medieval period. Could you speak to how this same framework applies to Byzantine philosophy?

JG: Yes, I see what you’re getting at. For Byzantine philosophy, there are several long-standing issues that stretch back centuries. By contrast, in the Latin tradition, many of the debates around reason and revelation, for example, emerged prominently from the 11th or 12th centuries onward. But for the Byzantines, these same issues go all the way back to the early Christian period—figures like Clement of Alexandria versus Gregory of Nazianzus exemplify this divide. One camp argued that philosophy had limited value and that revelation was the sole source of true knowledge, while the other viewed philosophy as a valid and valuable tool, akin to the Old Testament in terms of preparing for deeper revelation. This debate continued throughout the Byzantine era, persisting even after the fall of Constantinople.

So, you can see a certain parallel with the Latin tradition. The Byzantines grappled with similar questions, such as whether Aristotle (or Plato) should be considered a friend or an enemy of Christian thought. These debates, often centered around the compatibility of philosophical inquiry with religious doctrine, recurred over centuries.

There are also important examples of the direct impact of Byzantine philosophy on Latin thought, particularly through translations. The translations of Aristotle from Greek into Latin by figures such as Robert Grosseteste were significant. He translated commentaries on works like the Nicomachean Ethics and the Posterior Analytics, which were subsequently used and discussed in Latin scholastic circles. This kind of influence illustrates how Byzantine interpretations shaped subsequent Latin discussions, even if indirectly.

Moreover, after the fall of Constantinople, there was a surge of translations of Platonic and Neoplatonic texts into Latin, further contributing to the transmission of Byzantine thought. Some scholars point to figures like Duns Scotus, who drew on early Greek Church Fathers such as Gregory of Nyssa for his formulation of the formal distinction. If you consider these early Church Fathers as part of the Byzantine philosophical tradition, then there is a clear line of influence.

However, while some Byzantine ideas made their way into Latin scholasticism, many of these transmissions occurred later, around the 15th century. This timeline resembles what happened with the Arabic tradition—there was limited awareness or exchange during certain periods, and then a more pronounced interaction later on. So, while there is a rich reciprocity and overlap in some cases, Byzantine philosophy’s influence on Latin thought often took a more indirect and delayed path, particularly compared to the impact of Arabic philosophy.

GR: So it seems similar to the overall state of philosophy—essentially, we often place more focus and importance on Latin medieval philosophy, treating it as the central “trunk” of the tradition, while other medieval traditions are considered peripheral branches that attach themselves to it. This makes studying these other traditions, even framing questions about them, quite challenging. I acknowledge that my question reflects this bias.

JG: It’s a fair question. To make it brief, in some ways you could think of Latin medieval philosophy as the “root,” but in other ways, it’s more like a separate tree. Perhaps a better analogy would be the aspen trees in the United States—they appear as separate trees above ground but are actually connected through a single root system. So, in that sense, they’re not entirely separate at all.

GR: Yeah, I see—they’re separate, but they are manifestations of the same underlying philosophical impulses. OK, that makes sense.

JG: Exactly. In some respects, these traditions run parallel to each other but remain distinct, while in others, there are clear dependencies and influences from one to the other. Nevertheless, each tradition maintains a degree of autonomy, much like Arabic philosophy does.

GR: That’s a very interesting perspective and one worth exploring further. I realize now that my own perspective has been somewhat biased toward Latin philosophy.

JG: It’s a common issue in scholarly circles, especially with a focus on medieval philosophy. But it’s great that IPM is addressing this and broadening the conversation.

GR: So, here’s the last question—and it’s the big one. You have to sell yourself here; what are you currently working on in this field of philosophy? What’s your contribution? How are you pushing the boundaries of Byzantine philosophy?

JG: Good question! Well, I’m primarily focused on metaphysics, as you’ve probably gathered by now. My initial work centered on the reception of Neoplatonism in early, middle, and some later Byzantine philosophy, up to about the 12th century. Specifically, I’ve been interested in discussions around participation, causality, and metaphysical issues like universals.

Lately, my interests have expanded into examining broader questions in Byzantine metaphysics and how they relate to demonstrative science and systematic philosophical approaches. By delving into these areas, I hope to shed light on underexplored aspects of Byzantine thought and contribute to a more nuanced understanding of its role within the broader history of philosophy.

GR: Still focused on metaphysics, then?

JG: Yes, still mostly metaphysics, but my interests have evolved. I’ve become increasingly focused on how philosophy, especially in Byzantine thought, functions as a common source of knowledge and how it can serve as a preparation for revelation. This ties into the longstanding debates about the relationship between reason and revelation. I’ve also been exploring skepticism—specifically how skepticism about the natural world can lead to a greater reliance on revealed knowledge. In a sense, I’m interested in a kind of Byzantine version of the divide seen in Arabic Islamic philosophy between the falasifa (philosophers) and their critics.

GR: Right, like those who were against the logicians.

JG: Exactly, it’s a similar dynamic in Byzantine philosophy that persisted across different periods. I’ve also been looking into how Byzantine thinkers utilized ancient philosophical sources as authorities. For example, certain figures, like Michael Psellos, relied more on Proclus than Aristotle in certain contexts. It raises open questions about the extent to which these philosophers engaged with Aristotle versus other thinkers like Plato and Proclus. Understanding which sources they prioritized and why is a fascinating area for further exploration.

GR: Yeah, of course. But this is part of the process—you have to promote yourself a bit. For example, you recently secured a position in Germany. Could you tell us a bit about the topics you’ll be working on?

JG: In some respects, I’m returning to my earlier work on Late Antique Pagan Platonism, but I’m also delving deeper into early Christian and early Byzantine discussions on the use of philosophical authors and texts. I’m part of a Volkswagen Stiftung-funded project that focuses on “visions of pre-philosophy” and doxographical traditions. Essentially, it examines historical accounts and quotations from previous philosophical positions and asks how these were used and what agendas different authors had in presenting them.

This project spans Late Antique Platonist authors to Arabic-Islamic philosophers and also includes early Christian and Byzantine thinkers. While other members of the project are working on similar themes, I’m primarily focusing on Late Antique sources. However, I’m incorporating Byzantine thinkers into my analysis as well. One of the key areas I’m exploring is how certain philosophical figures were given authority—for example, the prominence of Pythagoras in Stobaeus’ Four Books of Extracts, Sayings and Precepts, and how Simplicius uses Pythagorean fragments.

One of my main tasks has been to determine the authenticity and origin of these fragments attributed to Stobaeus. Recent scholarship has suggested that about a third of what we have attributed to him might be interpolations from non-Stobaean sources. So part of my work is disentangling genuine Stobaean content and examining his philosophical position based on what he legitimately compiled.

This ties into a paper I presented in June at the annual meeting of the International Society for Neoplatonic Studies (ISNS), where I examined how the Chaldean Oracles were used as sources of knowledge by different Neoplatonists, particularly Proclus and Damascius. My argument is that while they were drawing from the same texts, their use varied significantly. Damascius, for example, used certain fragments to argue against Proclus, who selectively utilized texts that supported his own views. This divergence in usage, despite common source material, reveals distinct philosophical agendas—a nuance that, I believe, has been underexplored in scholarship until recently.

So that’s an example of the type of work I’m doing.