He shunned ostentation and bombast; he appreciated simplicity; he was pleasant in social company
I am certain that Stelios Ramfos would feel uncomfortable if he could hear the posthumous praise for his work, just as he would be displeased by the biased appropriation of parts of it for ideological and political purposes. Rampos was humble and open-minded; he was interested in intellectual substance, not political propaganda.
When I once invited him to speak at a conference, he told me he preferred to be addressed simply as “author” (he described himself as a “pseudo-philosopher”). He shunned ostentation and grandstanding; he valued simplicity; he was a pleasure to be around. Approachable, he was interested in learning from his conversation partner, not in teaching him. Listening attentively, he asked incisive questions and offered subtle insights. For him, philosophy was a way of life.
Public opinion regarded Stelios Ramfos as a public intellectual, a “chronicler of Hellenism,” reflecting on timeless themes of modern Greek identity. He was, first and foremost, a philosopher, whose contribution lay not so much in systematic philosophy, but rather in his incisive reinterpretation of philosophical and theological texts, taking ancient Greek philosophy—particularly Platonic philosophy—as his starting point. At the center of his inquiry was the formation of modern Greek consciousness and, more broadly, how modern man constructs his inner world and his individuality.
Ramphos’s reflections often took the form of philosophical essays. Although his dense and idiosyncratic prose demands patience from the reader, it rewards them with his subtle distinctions and conceptual insights. His philosophical gaze reveals. His reading of time in Cavafy, for example, is a model of interpretive reflection.
The starting point of his thought was the Marxism of his student years in pre-dictatorship Greece. During his ten-year stay in Paris (1965–1974), he began to distance himself from Marxism, coming into contact, among other things, with the work of Cornelius Castoriadis. He broadened his critique of Marxism to include the intellectual aridity of Western rationalism and the loss of meaning in life that it entails. He had begun to explore the spiritual prerequisites of the autonomous subject.
In *Testimony and Letter* (Kedros, 1984), while retaining Marx’s emphasis on “action” (humanity’s capacity to shape its own destiny as an active subject), he is drawn to Castoriadis’s concepts of “autonomy” and the “radical imagination.” He broadens his reflection by exploring, within Orthodox spirituality, the individual’s interiority as a prerequisite for autonomy. He explores with admiration the formation of Orthodox interiority in the *Philokalia*. Later, however, he identifies the limits of this interiority.
In the *Philokalia*, he observes, the individual withdraws from the sensible world to turn inward, seeking the purification of the passions (“nēsis”) and union with God. This inward concentration leads to the transcendence of the self, orienting the individual toward eternity. However, this turning “inward” does not create an autonomous subject that acts creatively within historical time. The inwardness of the Neptic tradition does not transform into modern subjectivity. The group—family, local ties, and clan—remains the primary source of identity for the individual. The human archetype that emerges does not recognize any intrinsic moral value in the pillars of modern institutions (law, rules, the state), thus giving rise to the social pathology we experience in modern Greece: favoritism, corruption, nepotism, meritocracy, party politics, mismanagement, distrust of the state, and lawlessness.
Rampho’s critique of the Philokalic tradition does not lead him to reject it. He values the interiority that Christianity brings, particularly in its Eastern form. His criticism concerns historical forms of the Orthodox Tradition that fail to embody the model of Jesus—the perpetual transcendence of the armored ego. He sought to reinterpret the Orthodox Tradition so that Christian interiority might give rise to a historically active individual who is responsible for his or her own destiny. Many of his admirers, focusing on books they believe serve their political beliefs, fail to understand that Ramfos does not reject Tradition —he seeks to renew it so that it may connect creatively with modernity.
Modern Greece saddens him because it was intellectually shaped in a metaphysical-religious environment that prioritized community and timelessness at the expense of individuality. The modern Greek experiences a profound contradiction, Ramfos observes: while his institutions presuppose a modern subject, his psyche is, for the most part, pre-modern, prone to emotionalism rather than logical analysis. It is difficult for the modern Greek archetype to act autonomously, to take on responsibilities, to govern his behavior by impersonal rules, and to plan for the future.
The Ramfi-inspired framework for interpreting modern Greek pathology is both enlightening and somewhat simplistic. It is illuminating insofar as it reinterprets the Orthodox Tradition, creating the conditions for linking Christian interiority with modern subjectivity. This is significant. It is overly simplistic, like all purely cultural explanations, insofar as it is a circular dead end and lacks sociological depth.
Indeed, specific metaphysical-cultural values feed into one another with weak institutional consciousness. However, one cannot make the leap from metaphysical concepts to the formation of the individual—institutions, with their own relative autonomy and flexibility, mediate this process in time and space. The functioning of institutions is shaped within the framework of historically evolving political choices and social and organizational practices. These practices are variable—you must focus on them, especially if you’re interested in reform. If you want to curb “bribes” in hospitals, for example, look at how they are managed. Regarding the OPEKEPE scandal, examine how public agencies are intertwined with political power. In this way, you’ll also find the starting point for a different kind of state. Metaphysics in and of itself doesn’t help.
Rampos’s most important work is himself—his intellectual journey. He often said that he changes in order to remain intellectually vibrant. He didn’t make “turns,” but rather “left burdens behind.” “I feel no animosity toward [what I left behind]. I see them as parts of my life; I’m happy about all of them, and I’m happy precisely because I managed to remain open to them and move forward.” He embodied something admirable and rare: open, restless, and bold thinking.
Mr. Charidimos Tsoukas (www.htsoukas.com) is a professor at the University of Cyprus, a research professor at the University of Warwick, and a member of the Cypriot and British Academies
