Antiparochi

A train between Polikatoikies in Athens

It sounds like an Italian dish, but antiparochi is a financial device used in post-war Greece to spur the construction of millions of homes. A variant of this device could kick-start homebuilding in San Francisco and other high-cost American cities.

Antiparochi emerged in Athens from the wreckage of two world wars, after successive invasions by fascist Italy and Nazi Germany left Greece devastated. The idea involved homeowners in postwar Athens trading their land with apartment builders in exchange for a few condos in a new building, in lieu of cash. These buildings, typically four-story to six-story structures called polykatoikía, came to symbolize middle-class Athens.

Most new city housing in modern-day America involves the developer buying high priced land from a homeowner, who pays large capital-gain taxes and typically moves away. The developer earns a profit by building two or more houses, condominiums, or even an apartment building; none of these structures is low-cost because of the high-priced land.

As your humble blogger understands antiparochi, the homeowner exchanges his property to the developer in return for one or more new units. The developer, who no longer pays a high price for the land, doesn't need to sell the other new units for as high a price. Under Greek tax law, apparently, antiparochi did not result in taxes to the original landowner.

Key to making the structure work in the U.S. is the non-recognition of capital gains by the homeowner for tax purposes. Under current law only investment properties can be exchanged for other investment properties (under IRC Section 1031) without triggering capital gains taxes. A homeowner who gives up his personal residence experiences a taxable transaction, whether he receives back cash or another real estate property. (It may be true that clever tax lawyers can come up with solutions using partnerships or other entities, just as they did with a limited number of high-income individuals to work around the $10,000 SALT limitation.)

Antiparochi would only constitute part of the solution in California, however, who still would have its notorious red-tape problem. Nevertheless, kudos for creativity.

Thinking Like a Greek

We live in an age of specialization and compartmentalization. Science, religion, mathematics, politics, philosophy, and literature are separate fields of study. Each of these has dozens of sub-categories with their own terminologies and modes of thinking.

However, the ancient Greeks

didn't make a distinction between philosophy and science, nor did they recognize the range of disciplines such as physics, chemistry, mathematics, astronomy, etc. that we do today. There simply wasn't the depth of knowledge and range of information that later made separate disciplines practical. In the Greek era, one individual could be an expert in several fields.

The splintering of knowledge makes it difficult to recognize patterns that may cross knowledge silos. More importantly, some believe that there is a deeper underlying reality to the universe that is understood only piecemeal by experts in their respective specialties. No human being has yet fully grasped, much less been able to explain to his fellow creatures, such a reality.

In a book to be released this Tuesday, Professor of theoretical physics Heinrich Päs ponders the "One."

his book proposes, rather than a definitive answer, an exploration of both the mind-bending conclusions of modern physics and the long history of the beguiling notion of a unifying, universal fabric. His book proves a heady mix of history, philosophy and cutting-edge theory that is fascinating, provocative and at times infuriating.

I'm a sucker for these books that explain the nature of the universe, where it came from and where it's going. If the writer presumes to discuss the nature of man, then I must resist the temptation to tell him to stay in his lane, which in this case is theoretical physics. He's thinking like an ancient Greek.

Donald Kagan, 1932-2021

Donald Kagan (Yale Daily News photo)

We noted his retirement eight years ago. Donald Kagan, 89, passed away earlier this month.

Kagan, who came to Yale in 1969, was a distinguished scholar of Ancient Greek history. His monumental four-volume history of the Peloponnesian War (1969–1987) was characterized by George Steiner as “the foremost work of history produced in North America in the 20th century”....

From his first years at Yale, Kagan was heralded as a dynamic and influential teacher, a galvanizing presence whose lectures on Ancient Greek history, delivered with eloquence, dry wit, and deadpan humor, filled classrooms to overflowing, despite his strict grading policies. The Socratic dialogue of his seminars made entry into one of them a winning lottery ticket for aspirants.

In 1970, without knowing what I was getting into—-how much can one find out from a brochure?—I signed up for Directed Studies, an integrated liberal arts program that immersed freshmen in the Western canon. First year Literature, Art, Philosophy, and European History courses all began with the pre-Socratic Greeks and ended before World War I.

Having joined the faculty the previous year, Donald Kagan already was one of the rock stars of Directed Studies, and his 90-minute lectures were organized, incisive, and chock full of information. (By the way, he had a slight speech impediment that I only mention because he was the first really smart person that I knew who had one.)

Though I eventually majored in Finance in graduate school and received a CPA, 1970-71 was the most intense and interesting educational year I ever had, and Professor Kagan had a lot to do with it.

Ancient Wisdom

Aristotle (NY Times)

There are innumerable contemporary books on happiness. Classics professor Edith Hall of King's College says that a philosopher who lived 2,300 years ago has something meaningful to say about the subject.

What is happiness? [bold added]

Aristotle didn’t equate happiness with wealth, pleasure or fame. For him, happiness was an internal state of mind—a felicity or contentment that we can acquire only by living life in the best way possible.

How do we become happy?

In his treatises, Aristotle analyzed a wide range of traits of character—in Greek, ethos, from which we derive the word “ethics.” These included libido, courage, anger, how we treat other people and how we regard money. All of us possess these properties, and happiness comes from cultivating each one in the correct amount, so that it is a virtue (arete) rather than a vice.

The golden mean is a term associated with Aristotle:

It is in this notion of the “mean” that Aristotelian ethics differs from other ancient moral systems. Aristotle does not teach, for instance, that anger is a vice and patience a virtue. Rather, he believes that when we feel anger in the right amount, at the right time and toward the right people, it is virtuous. Without it, we wouldn’t stand up for ourselves or for important principles. Failing to feel anger when we are wronged is a vice, but then so is excessive, misplaced or gratuitous anger.

And the same goes for every other quality. Fiscal responsibility, to take another example, is the virtue lying between the vices of parsimony—which Aristotle despised, especially in the rich—and reckless spending.

From the anger on display in the public square, I get the feeling that there are many people who are not happy, even though their side is "winning."

Greek Columns Then and Now

2008: inspiring words and the adulation of millions (Brittanica).

2016: walking amidst the ruins. (WSJ photo)

The Journey, Not the Destination

The Chartes labyrinth design

The popular definition of labyrinth is maze. That venerable meaning harks back to Greek mythology, which describes how the Minotaur was trapped in the Labyrinth, a prison with branching paths and dead ends.

There's another ancient meaning which is gaining purchase among enthusiasts worldwide. In a unicursal labyrinth the wanderer traces a meandering but singular path to the center, then exits by retracing the path.

At its most basic level the labyrinth is a metaphor for the journey to the center of your deepest self and back out into the world with a broadened understanding of who you are.

The traveler doesn't get lost in the unicursal labyrinth; he empties the mind of the world's concerns and "finds" himself in the center, then slowly returns to the world.

(Your humble observer/truth-seeker has walked both labyrinths at Grace Cathedral but has found that the mere act of walking [but yes, I can chew gum at the same time] makes him too distracted to meditate. Labyrinths don't work for me, but perhaps they can work for you, dear reader.)

The $500,000 labyrinth comes with a 300-ft-long fieldstone wall (WSJ Photo)

In America, the land of going overboard, it's possible to spend up to $500,000 constructing a labyrinth on one's property. For homeowners on a budget The Labyrinth Company sells paver-brick kits ($4,000-$28,000) for the back yard.

Happy Trails!

That Can Won't Roll Very Far

(From Vivify Change Catalyst)

So Greece "won" by negotiating a third bailout of Greek banks:

Eurozone finance ministers agreed “in principle” Thursday to grant Greece an expensive third bailout designed to keep it in the euro. But the likelihood that the prospective three-year deal will fail—possibly before it even starts, let alone is completed—is now estimated at higher than 50% by some senior officials in Europe.

No politician on either side wants to be responsible for the write-offs, economic contraction, impoverishment, and even riots that will occur if Greece reneges on its Euro debts and departs the European Union. Better to lend a few more Euros and let the next man or woman deal with fixing a bigger problem.

Yes, the Greeks "won," but in the end they got worse repayment terms:

the radical-left party led by Alexis Tsipras played a reckless game of brinkmanship with the rest of the euro area, and in particular with Germany. Though the aim was to secure a better deal for Greece, the negotiations simply further injured the economy. The game of bluff culminated in a far worse deal on July 13th following bitter negotiations in Brussels last weekend between Mr Tsipras and other euro-zone leaders.

That kicked can has so many dents that it hardly rolls very far.

Borrowing Is Easy, Repayment Is Hard

Anglican priest and Guardian columnist Giles Fraser says the current Greek-German-euro crisis harks back to different perspectives on the Crucifixion(!) [bold added].

As Mr Fraser recalled, traditional Protestant and Catholic teaching has presented the self-sacrifice of Christ as the payment of a debt to God the Father. In this view, human sinfulness created a debt which simply had to be settled, but could not be repaid by humanity because of its fallen state; so the Son of God stepped in and took care of that vast obligation. For Orthodox theologians, this wrongly portrays God the Father as a sort of heavenly debt-collector who is himself constrained by some iron necessity; they prefer to see the passion story as an act of mercy by a God who is free.

The Greeks, obviously steeped in the Orthodox notion of a merciful God, had over 15 years of fun in the Mediterranean sun at the expense of those dyspeptic German bankers. C'mon, Angela, forgive us our debts and we'll try real hard to pay you back next time.