Petr Hampl: This brings us to the question of Wittgenstein’s ladder. If we start from the metaphor, what about the ladder we climbed to a higher floor? Can we throw that ladder away? Or do we need to protect what we have come out of? Some say that Christianity cannot stand unless Judaism is protected and nurtured as its foundation. Someone else says that contemporary civilization cannot stand unless Christian roots are protected and nurtured? Do we need to go back to Roman law when the conditions in the present judiciary are anyway determined by primitivism and arbitrariness? Is it possible to formulate some clear principle to follow for these purposes?
Jiri Hejlek: Last time we talked about tradition as a kind of mediator of cultural elements between civilizations. These elements change their meaning when they are transferred to a new civilizational environment, for example what we call “justice”. The change is often even more dramatic. Take, for example, the seven-day week. In ancient civilizations, the number seven (literally) played a significant role. It was a symbol of fullness and perfection. The highest Babylonian ziggurats had seven degrees, Greek tradition knew of seven wise men, there were seven planets in the sky, and of course the wonders of the world were also seven. Thus the seven days also constituted a higher unit of time. Although the Jews adopted the seven-day week, they sanctified the seven days by divine authority. The week so understood entered Christian civilization, but the position of the privileged number was assumed by the three according to the Trinity of God. Atlantic civilization adopted this form of the week quite mechanically. It is interesting to note, however, that the French revolutionaries attempted, unsuccessfully, to enact a ten-day week. After all, ten became the new privileged number! Today we understand the week as merely a beat in the work process with a pause at the end.
It seems, then, that in changing the meaning of a civilizational or cultural element, the ladder of previous meanings is thrown off. However, the parable of the ladder has two weak points. First, one can hardly speak of climbing to a higher floor. With civilizations, we cannot be subject to the Enlightenment prejudice of development and progress. Secondly – and this is essential – the previous meanings leave their traces in tradition, which is also a kind of treasure house of culture. Another analogy seems better, that of a building. A civilizational formation is largely built by people from elements and motifs (stones) that they take from the ruins of previous civilizations. It’s like the Coliseum, which was built to host games and performances and which, after years of desolation, served as a quarry for several centuries. One could say that the matter of the element remains, but its function, meaning or mission changes.
Judaism is not the root of Christianity and it is not the root of Atlantic civilization.
We often talk about the roots or foundations of a culture or religion. But this is misleading. The root is a hidden, yet organic part of the plant. Judaism is not the root of Christianity, and it is not the root of Atlantic civilization. Indeed, in both cases it is the opposite of the previous phenomenon. If we stick to the analogy of a building, it is more apt to speak of a building project than of a foundation. The building of each civilization has its own, while the building material may be its own, imported or recycled. For a variety of reasons, there may come a point at which it is desirable to examine the origin of the recycled material. Then we must return to its former function. That is why a building is a better image than a ladder. One good reason for this exploration is to learn about the project itself. For example, why this or that works differently than we expected.
A few more words about the returns. Time, including historical time, is uncompromising. History clearly shows that every attempt to return to the basics in order to correct or, on the contrary, to consolidate the existing state of affairs does not end according to the ideas of human planners. Consider the Reformation in the 16th century. Initially, it was an effort by the Reformers to return the Christian Church to the original state of the primitive Church. Instead, an entirely new branch of Christianity and Christian culture emerged. Nor did the national revival mean a return to the antebellum state as many understood it at the time. (It meant a return to Czech national independence, which was ended by defeat in the war with Habsburg Austria in 1621).
People could not be expected to give up trying to make a comeback, but in the end something new came out of it anyway that they not only did not intend, but often could not even imagine. The future cannot be planned, it can only be guessed, as Schelling wrote.