We all know that Ernesto Garzón Valdés led a double life as a diplomat and a scholar.
In his academic life, Ernesto initially studied law, philosophy, political science, and sociology in Córdoba, Madrid, Munich, Bonn, and Cologne. From 1958 to 1974, he was a professor of legal philosophy at the Universities of Córdoba and La Plata. During this time, he also became a member of the Argentine Foreign Service and head of the cultural department at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. In 1974, he interrupted his academic life as a professor when he was appointed as an envoy to the Argentine Embassy in Bonn. However, shortly thereafter, he became a target of political persecution by the Isabel Perón government, leading to the loss of his diplomatic and academic positions, and he became an exile in Germany. This inevitably led to a reactivation of his scholarly pursuits, with teaching assignments at the Universities of Bonn, Cologne, and Mainz, and eventually, in 1980, an appointment as a university professor of political science at Johannes Gutenberg University Mainz. Yet, the diplomatic life resurfaced with his rehabilitation and reinstatement in the diplomatic service at the ambassadorial rank in 1985 under President Alfonsin.
It sounds like this dual life was a constant for Ernesto. In reality, however, he was eventually able to successfully reconcile these two aspects – I'll come back to that in a moment.
But first, I'd like to share an experience I had with Ernesto in the late 80s that left a strong impression on me. After his rehabilitation as a member of the diplomatic service, Ernesto was offered the position of Ambassador of Argentina to Berlin. Now, we can all surely imagine Delia and Ernesto representing Argentina in Berlin with style, elegance, and intellectual aura. And it was clear that this was an offer Ernesto could hardly refuse – to put it frankly, there was also a significant amount of money involved.
I recall several conversations where Ernesto explained his considerations to me, which spanned over a considerable period of time. Eventually, he decided to decline the offer. He explained to me that his primary motive was that he didn't want to give up the regular exchange with his academic friends and colleagues in the years to come, nor his role as an internationally sought-after university professor. This role had led him to guest professorships at numerous 2 universities, including Finland, Italy, Spain, Chile, Mexico, and Peru. This intellectual exchange within an academic community was more important to him than assuming a glamorous social role as a diplomat.
Although it was eventually a clear decision, it couldn't have been an easy one. One could say it was a decision in favour of us. And over the years, it had become evident how much being an active member of an academic community meant to Ernesto. This brings me back to my assertion that he truly managed to combine his roles as a diplomat and a scholar.
Ernesto actually leveraged his diplomatic skills and talents in initiating and nurturing an international academic network of scholars, with himself at its vital and inspiring core. He truly is the most gifted "networker" I know.
From my personal experience, there are two key names in this context: the Roland Seminar and the Tampere Club. I know that there are many more successful initiatives and circles of scholars that can be attributed to Ernesto, and I'm sure his Spanish, Argentinean, Mexican, or American friends could share even more. Last but not least, Ernesto's impressively long list of honorary doctorates speaks volumes here. However, I'll only tell this from my perspective.
The Roland Seminars began in 1998 under the guiding motto "Non dogma, sed dubium," with the topic "Collective Action," and concluded in 2014 with the exemplary question "What is important?" In total, 30 meetings took place, covering topics such as "Democracy and Rule of Law," "International Justice," "Religion and Politics," "Majority and Morality," or "Rationality in Economy and Society." All seminars were hosted in the incredibly hospitable home of Delia and Ernesto in the Rolandstrasse; the street, along with the Roland statue at the front of the house, lent its name to the seminar. All sessions of the seminar were held on the third floor of the villa in the "Eulenzimmer" (Owl Room), where we sought to complement the wisdom of a collection of over a hundred owls with the wisdom of ten to fifteen human participants. Each seminar had a subject, but there were no presentations, only short prompts and often long, sometimes very long discussions. Empanadas and Argentinean red wine rounded off the evenings in a typical manner, which sometimes extended late into the night, on at least one occasion, very late.
The list of participants is impressive, comprising more than 50 names, including Georg Henrik von Wright, Hans Albert, Robert Alexy, Dieter Birnbacher, Karl Graf Ballestrem, Werner Güth, or Norbert Hoerster, to name just a few – and, of 3 course, our dear friend Geoffrey Brennan. I won't mention the renowned scholars who are present here.
The Roland Seminars had a distinctive atmosphere: respect was always present in the discussions, one could express unfinished thoughts and unconventional ideas without reservation, one could speak at length and count on the tolerance of others. Thus, the Roland Seminar was more than just a discussion group; it was a gathering of people who were connected by friendship and whose mutual sympathy enabled a level of open exchange rarely found in ordinary scholarly discussions. This was clearly expected of the participants, and arrogance, unfriendliness, or impatience were not tolerated – generally, one wouldn't get more than one chance. Ernesto conveyed this expectation unmistakably, without needing to explicitly articulate it. Only those who understood themselves as members of a circle of like-minded friends were welcome.
One time participants from Finland, including Aulis Aarnio, Eerik Lagerspetz, and Kaarlo Turi, arrived. This marked the beginning of a long-lasting collaboration and friendship. The impression that the format and atmosphere of the Roland Seminar left on our Finnish colleagues played a crucial role in the conception and establishment of the Tampere Club in Finland. Essentially, the Tampere Club was the Finlandization of the Roland Seminar. Accordingly, Ernesto became the President of the Club. The honorary presidents were Georg Henrik von Wright and later Nobel laureate Jim Buchanan. The format of the Tampere Club was similar to the Roland Seminar, a small and manageable group of scholars taking time to discuss topics and issues in-depth and informally – although in the case of the Tampere Club, discussions were initiated by short presentations. The participants of the club were international, including, in addition to those mentioned earlier, figures such as Elinor Ostrom, Edna Ullman-Margalit and her husband Avishai Margalit, Bruno Frey, Russell Hardin, Philip Pettit, Sue Mendus, Samantha Besson, Joakim Palme, or Wlodek Rabinowicz, and of course, our friend Geoff Brennan. The Tampere Club was also a success story, and here too, the development of friendly bonds among participants was an element of this success.
But why was initiating, building, and tirelessly nurturing such scholarly groups and connections such an important endeavour for Ernesto, one that he invested an enormous amount of time and energy into? It's important to understand that his aim wasn't merely to create networks and discussion circles for academics. His goal wasn't just to initiate scholarly exchange but rather to bring 4 together individuals of integrity who were committed to the fundamental values of free and autonomous science and research, as well as the principles of democracy and the rule of law that enable such free and autonomous science. The objective wasn't just to build networks but to build communities. A community isn't solely defined by shared interests and pursuits, but fundamentally by shared values to which individuals feel personally committed, values that they live by, promote, and defend.
I believe that Ernesto perceived his efforts to establish scholarly communities in this sense as a commitment and a mission, and this perception has deep roots in his life experiences in and with Argentina. He has vividly described significant aspects of these experiences in his quasi-autobiography "Farewell to the Argentine Miracle" in which he uses a pseudonym: Felix Ahumada. In the book, he quotes César Fernández Moreno, who said, "To be an Argentine is like having a crazy mother." Ernesto somewhat resignedly agrees with this, and after reading the book's account of Argentina's breathtakingly chaotic and tragic history in the 20th century, one would have to agree. And this "crazy mother" has profoundly shaped her son Ernesto.
Already as a law student in the 1940s, Ernesto saw the Peronist regime as the embodiment of a politically anti-liberal system. A victim of this system was also free and independent science. Political purges within the teaching staff occurred regularly at universities, resulting in academic mediocrity. In 1947, during Perón's rule, a university law was passed that abolished the autonomy that had been achieved in 1918: rectors were once again appointed by the executive branch, and starting from 1952, a membership in the Peronist party was required for any university appointment. This eventually led to a majority of Catholic, traditional, and right-leaning professors within universities. Ernesto quotes his friend, the prominent Argentine philosopher Mario Bunge: "In all state educational institutions and workplaces, a mixture of lies, trivialities, absurdities, and Catholic doctrine was compulsory content."
After managing to complete his law degree in the early 1950s, Ernesto left Argentina for Europe to deepen his studies in law, philosophy, and the social sciences. As he writes, he couldn't bear the embarrassing lack of standards at Argentine universities any longer, and he knew that without party membership, he wouldn't have a chance of pursuing the university career he aspired to.
Even after Perón's downfall in 1955, the situation in Argentina didn't improve initially. The new regime also subjected universities and public administration to 5 politically motivated purges, but this time being or having been a Peronist became a stigma that led to exclusion from all public offices at the federal and provincial levels.
Nevertheless, there was still hope for a revival of democracy, and so Ernesto returned to Argentina in 1957. In 1958, he began teaching at the universities of Cordoba and Buenos Aires while also entering the Diplomatic Service.
However, the hope for democratization and political stability proved deceptive. Military coups took place in 1962 and 1966, overthrowing democratically elected governments. Once again, universities were placed under state control, leading to a dramatic decline in the Argentine university system. Consequently, the largest exodus of scientists in Argentina's history occurred. Some politically liberal scholars, including Ernesto, remained in their positions, hoping to convey the principles of liberal democracy within the universities. In 1973, Peronism returned to power with Hector Campora. However, the authoritarian grip on universities did not ease this time either; on the contrary. In 1973, the new rector of the University of Buenos Aires declared:
"The most important thing is that the teaching at each university corresponds to the national doctrine, thus preventing the infiltration of liberalism, positivism, historicism, utilitarianism – all forms through which ideological subversion disguises itself in our courses."
At the Law Faculty, where Ernesto taught, the fight against positivism and scientism included targeting deontic logic: it was criticized for lacking national content and embodying misguided universalism.
Arbitrary mass dismissals took place at universities and in the public sector, and in 1974 Ernesto himself fell victim to this: as mentioned earlier, he was dismissed from the Diplomatic Service and suspended as a professor when he was appointed as an envoy to the Argentine Embassy in Bonn. This marked the definitive beginning of his life in Germany. In 1976, the political and societal situation in Argentina was further exacerbated by the military junta taking power and the initiation of state terrorism. Although its disgraceful end in 1983 meant the end of forced exile for Ernesto, it did not mean the end of his life in Germany. His decision to remain in Germany was strengthened by the fact that professors who had held seminars during the dictatorship on the natural-lawbased legitimation of torture remained in positions of authority at his alma mater, as did diplomats who had served the military regime in the Foreign Office. But, of course, more importantly than anything else, there was Delia in 6 Germany, and with her, Ernesto's personal happiness became indissolubly linked to Germany.
The development in the second half of the 20th century in Argentina represented, for Ernesto, an ongoing destruction of the intellectual and cultural life. There were no signs indicating that the country could recover from this situation; on the contrary, the decline of Argentina seemed to be cementing into a stubborn normalcy.
Thus, for Ernesto, these were the depressing experiences of the "crazy mother" Argentina, a country that failed to establish a stable democracy and a functioning rule of law: experiences which were viewed through the lens of a diplomat who was engaged and committed to a liberal and democratic society, only to witness the failure of those efforts. And experiences from the perspective of a passionate intellectual and scholar who found the destruction of academic and scientific culture to be traumatic.
These experiences were the background for Ernesto’s strict political liberalism, which forms the foundation of his thinking and convictions. His deeply rooted appreciation of liberalism and the rule of law, with their universal protection of individuals against state and private arbitrariness, is also grounded in his skepticism towards an overly optimistic view of human nature – a skepticism that undoubtedly originates not least from his experiences and disappointments with Argentina's development.
In his numerous scholarly and political writings and essays, Ernesto repeatedly reaffirmed this sceptical conviction as the basis of his perspective on liberalism from various angles. He often used a vivid juxtaposition of “horizonalist” and “verticalist” viewpoints when discussing how to stabilize democracy and above all prevent the tyranny of the majority.
According to horizonalist views, personal virtues of autonomous citizens are the foundation. They hope and expect that under the right conditions and incentives human capacities for moral and politically responsible behaviour can be nurtured and developed. Ernesto associates figures like Rousseau and, albeit with reservations, Hume with this optimistic perspective. According to this view, individuals are fundamentally capable of overcoming their egoism and forming and maintaining a just society. This perspective is called "horizontalist" because it believes that overarching institutions and sanctioned regulations can largely be dispensed with.
In contrast, a verticalist viewpoint starts with the assumption of inherent human weaknesses that can threaten democracies in various ways. Ernesto cites ignorance as a result of rational egoism, indifference coupled with disinterest in truth, or emotional dedication to ideologies and promises of salvation.
Ernesto was also an early observer of the danger that democracies can develop self-destructive tendencies and can be destroyed from within by their own procedures and mechanisms, a danger that is a topic of current discussions, as seen in the widely debated book "How Democracies Die" by Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt. A glance at Israel underscores the timeliness of this selfdestructive potential. For Ernesto, this is not surprising news.
Verticalist perspectives, rooted in this pessimistically tinted view of human nature, therefore do not solely rely on human well-being and the ability to act as citizens in the interest of the whole; they consider vertical control mechanisms and guardian functions as indispensable. Ernesto frequently cites Aristotle in this context: "In democracies controlled by law, demagogues are restrained; where the law is not paramount, however, demagogues will succeed."
From this viewpoint, a democracy requires effective institutional restrictions as moral crutches. Ernesto advocates for a liberalism where such restrictions are essential and which openly embraces a paternalistic stance. He places more trust in the effectiveness of such institutions than in the moral potentials and virtues of people. Institutions, functioning as checks and balances, need to set necessary boundaries for human power-seeking, selfish ambitions, as well as ignorance and stupidity, to protect democracy and prevent the tyranny of the majority. "Off Limits" is a favourite expression of Ernesto in this context: Off Limits signifies that there are immutable boundaries, no-goes for the power of the majority and its decisions.
In conclusion, I believe, as previously mentioned, that Ernesto's experiences in Argentina have strongly influenced his lifelong commitment to building academic communities with individuals who are not only excellent and inspiring scholars but who also hold themselves accountable to the core values of free and autonomous science and research, as well as the principles of democracy and the rule of law.
Behind this consideration might lie the sombre realization that functional scientific institutions, such as universities and research establishments, which ensure the selection of the brightest minds and safeguard the freedom of research and teaching, are not guaranteed. They are constantly vulnerable to politically and ideologically motivated infiltration, erosion, and destruction. Ernesto experienced this to an extreme degree in Argentina, but similar risks and dangers exist in less drastic, often creeping forms in other societies. This implies that one cannot take for granted that a society's academic institutions will consistently and enduringly bring together individuals for whom the pursuit of scientific truth is an intrinsic life goal and a societal value, who are personally trustworthy, and who are committed to the preservation of these institutions. Ernesto was confronted with tangible evidence that this is not just an abstract threat.
A consistent and to some extent radical conclusion can thus be that one should take the responsibility of forming such scientific communities upon oneself. This is precisely the path that Ernesto has embraced with unfaltering dedication and tremendous success. He has, primarily through his own seemingly boundless energy, established a resilient international community of scholars, one that has remained intact over years and decades, largely impervious to political fluctuations in their respective countries and contexts. If you had a world map at hand, you could place many markers signifying this cross-border global "Ernesto University." I, personally, found my place in the faculties of Roland and Tampere in this virtual university, but there are many other faculties scattered across the world. Numerous internationally renowned members of this university can be admired in countless photos in Ernesto's office at Rolandstrasse. Additionally, Ernesto has also succeeded in aiding members of his university in establishing themselves in actual universities. However, others in this room can undoubtedly provide more insights on this topic than I can.
However, the picture wouldn't be complete if we didn't talk about an important, perhaps the most important ideal in Ernesto's life: friendship! For Ernesto, friendship is a high, maybe even the highest value in his social and private relationships. Once someone has gained Ernesto's friendship, they can be certain that an indestructible bond has been formed, one that doesn't lose its strength and power over time. This holds true even if Ernesto's friends themselves don't always maintain the same level of reciprocity and reliability as he does. He doesn't give up easily in such cases.
Therefore, with his scientific communities, Ernesto has always aimed to promote and nurture friendly relationships within them, transforming them into social communities, communities of friends. However, friendship isn't just a 9 fortunate side effect. When the members of a community feel connected by an emotional bond, when mutual sympathy and empathy reign, the community is fortified by a different, stronger foundation. Mutual goodwill, which ensures that cooperation doesn't occur solely for mutual benefit but also because the well-being and interests of others are considered, strengthens trust, as well as cohesion and collaboration, and enhances the value of any community – even an intellectual community of scholars.
Thus, I believe, a significant aspect of Ernesto's commitment to scientific communities is the hope that communities are formed with shared interests, shared values, and as communities of friends.
And this, I think, is again closely connected to Ernesto's experiences in Argentina. Under an autocratic regime that treats its citizens with hostility and sows mistrust between them as a weapon, one needs the antidote of trust in communities of like-minded individuals, which demands more than just shared interests that can change quickly. This trust, based on mutual sympathy and friendship, provides security even in a hostile environment. In such an environment, friendship and trust become instruments of survival.
Dear Ernesto, I thank you not only for allowing me to be a member of the international Ernesto Garzón Valdés-University for many years, but also for allowing me to be your friend throughout these years. On my 60th birthday, which has regrettably passed a while ago, you spoke about me as a friend. Today, I am very glad to express my gratitude that I can speak to you in the same manner!
