In Memoriam: Philip Benesch, 1959-2025
The Lebanon Valley College (LVC) community has lost a great colleague, scholar, and teacher with the passing of Dr. Philip Benesch on June 1. Philip was an Associate Professor of Political Science and Director of Pre-Law Programs and External Fellowships at LVC. He held a BA in history, an LLM, a Postgraduate Certificate in Laws, and a Postgraduate Diploma in Laws from the University of London. Before coming to the United States for a PhD from the University of Delaware, he earned an MA from the London School of Economics.
Our first contact was when he sent me an official email – it was a Saturday at midnight. I remember thinking, this is someone I can work with. I would soon learn that this was typical Philip: always excited to share whenever he had something on his mind. Over the next four years, receiving late-night texts from him (about classes, students, scholarships, or something he found interesting) became a happy part of my life.
I remember the hot July day in Annville when we met for the first time in person to tour the campus and have lunch together. What struck me about Philip at first was his kindness – I think all of his colleagues and students would agree. It was a measured sort of kindness – always sincere, never overbearing. One time, as I was entering the school building, I saw him coming from about fifty feet away. When someone held the door for him, he had to speed up and chuckled, “Coercion by kindness!” I’ve never forgotten that subtle lesson on the nuances of kindness.
Philip was a scholar of Karl Popper, the Austrian-British philosopher of science and politics. He spent nearly two decades writing his major work, The Viennese Socrates: Karl Popper and the Reconstruction of Progressive Politics. Following Arne Petersen, he saw Popper as a modern “Socrates,” emphasizing his method of falsification and critical rationalism. In a sense, Philip was a true Popperian – not because he agreed with Popper on everything, but because he read him critically. For example, he argued that Popper’s views on democracy were flawed and disappointing. He placed Popper not simply against Marx, but in the tradition of revisionist Marxism. His book remains one of the finest introductions to Popper’s thought, alongside Bryan Magee’s Karl Popper from the Modern Masters series. In 2014, Philip organized the International Symposium on Karl Popper and the Open Society at LVC – one of the highlights of the college’s Political Science program.
Philip was a constant presence on campus. Helping students was his greatest joy and lasting legacy. He was particularly proud to serve as the fellowship advisor to LVC students, 19 of whom received Fulbright scholarships – an extraordinary achievement for a small college. It was all possible because of Philip’s dedication. He worked tirelessly on student applications. On those long winter afternoons, I would stop by his office to say goodbye before heading out, and I always looked forward to hearing his soft, confident voice say, “All the best!” He was always there.
Philip was a gifted lecturer: his receipt of the Thomas Rhys Vickroy Distinguished Teaching Award in 2012 was a testament to his excellence in the classroom. Just this past November, he kindly agreed to give a guest lecture in my intellectual history class on John Stuart Mill (another towering figure for Philip). The lecture was engaging, sharply analytical, and seasoned with anecdotes. At the University of London and LSE, the schools he attended, Popper and Mill were treated as foundational figures. That clearly shaped Philip’s intellectual passions.
Earlier last semester, the symptoms of his illness became apparent. In early March, he texted me to say he was glad to be moving into the active treatment phase. We were hopeful, even making plans to continue our little tradition of meeting for a summer brunch. But unfortunately, fate had other plans.
I think our conversations on poetry and authoritarianism brought us closer – especially when my book, published in Turkey, faced censorship. Philip was a huge support during that time and, not surprisingly, deeply engaged. (After all, Popper was a prominent critic of Plato, who famously censored poets in his Republic.) That’s how our conversations about Philip Larkin began.
Looking back now, I find it strange that Larkin’s lines best describe his approach to death: “Calm, cold: No rational being / Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing.” In the face of mortality, Philip was calm until the end.
It was Larkin, too, who wrote about “the first day after a death, the new absence.” Now, it is that day, and I miss Philip. The absence will not disappear. But I will learn to live with it.
