Created on
Selected
parts of ‘History of Western Philosophy’ by Bertrand Russell
Anabaptism,
where sexual promiscuity can lead to a heroic resistance
Determinism, teleological vs mechanistic explanation
Materialism should lead to humility
'Ideal' object of desire, bases for ethics
Dualism of Manichaeans more conistent than Plato’s
Platon
and ‘Percept and perception’, truth or falsehood
Definition of The magnanimous man
Monarchy, aristocracy, and constituitional govemment,
tyranny, oligarchy and democracy
Over-estimation of deduction, under-estimation of
induction
Euclid and the famous postulate of parallels
The contempt for practical utility in Euclid
First time for emancipation from anthropocentric thinking
Historical view, judging a philosophical system
Parallel
between christianism and Marxism
Historical vision on East ó
West relations
Wandering of independent philosophers, example of John
Scot
Islamic
culture and philosophy
Merits of the founders of modem science
Positive role of small countries
Battle between the Church and the State
Philosophy
as a reflection of the outside world
Conclusion, philosophy vs science, scientific truthfulness
With subjectivism in philosophy, anarchism in politics
goes hand in hand. Already during Luther's lifetime, unwelcome and
unacknowledged disciples had developed the doctrine of Anabaptism, which, for a
time, dominated the city of
p. 20
It was common
in antiquity to reproach the atomists with attributing everything to chance.
They were, on the contrary, strict determinists, who believed that everything
happens in accordance with natural laws. Democritus explicity
denied that anything can happen by chance. Leucippus,
though his existence is questioned, is known to have said one thing: 'Naught
happens for nothing, but everything from a ground and of necessity.' It is true
that they gave no reason why the world should originally have been as it was;
this, perhaps, might have been attributed to chance. But when
once the world existed, its further developpment was
unalterably fixed by mechanical principles. Aristotle and others
reproached him and Democritus for not accounting for the original motion of the
atoms, but in this the atomists were more scientific than their critics.
Causation must start from something, and wherever it starts no cause can be
assigned for the initial datum. The world may be attributed to a Creator, but
even then the Creator Himself is unaccounted for. The theory of the atomists,
in fact, was more nearly that of modem science than any other theory propounded
in antiquity.
The atomists, unlike Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, sought to explain
the world without introducing the notion of purpose or final cause. The
'final cause' of an occurrence is an event in the future for the sake of which
the occurrence takes place. In human affairs, this conception is applicable.
Why does the baker make bread? Because people wail be hungry. Why are railways
built? Because people wail wish to travel. In such cases, things are explained
by the purpose they serve. When we ask 'why ?' conceming an event, we may mean either of two things. We
may mean : 'What purpose did this event serve ? ' or we may mean : 'What earlier circumstances causeâ this event ? ' The answer
to the forlner ques- tion is a teleological explanation, or an explanation by
final causes; the answer to the latter question is a mechanistic explana- tion. I do not see how
it could have been known in advance which of these two questions science ought
to ask, orwhether it ought to ask both. But
experience has shown that the mechanistic question leads to scientific
knowledge, while the teleological question does not. The atomists asked the
mechanistic question, and gave a mechanistic answer. Their successors, until
the Renaissance, were interested in the teleological question, and thus led
science up a blind alley.
Pp 84-5
Democritus was a thorough-going materialist; for him,
as we have seen, the soul was composed of atoms, and thought was a physical
process. There was no purpose in the universe; there were only atoms governed
by mechanical laws. He disbelieved in popular religion [...]. In ethics, he considrered cheerfulness
the goal of life, and regarded moderation and culture as the best means to it.
...
What is amiss, even in the best philosophy after
Democritus, is an undue emphsis on man as compared
with the universe.
p. 89-90
What makes the
difference between an 'ideal' and an ordinary object of desire is that the
former is impersonal; it is something having (at least ostensibly) no special
reference to the ego of the man who feels the desire, and therefore capable,
theoretically, of being desired by everybody. Thus we might define an 'ideal'
as something desired, not egocentric, and such that the person desiring it
wishes that every one else also desired it. I may wish that everybody had
enough to eat, that everybody felt kindly towards everybody, and so on, and if
I wish anything of this kind l shalI also wish others
to wish it. In this way, l can build up what Iooks
like an impersonaI ethic, although in fact it rests
upon the personal basis of my own desires-for the desire remains mine, even
when what is desired has no reference to myself. For
example, one man may wish that everybody understood science, and another that
everybody appreciated art; it is a personal difference between the two men that
produces this difference in their desires.
The personal element
becomes apparent as soon as controversy is involved. Suppose some man says : 'You are wrong to wish everybody to be happy; you
ought to desire the happiness of Germans and the unhappiness of everyone else.'
Here 'ought' may be taken to mean that that is what the speaker wishes me to
desire. I might retort that, not being German, it is psychologicalIy
impossible for me to desire the unhappiness of aIl
non-Germans; but this answer seems inadequate.
Again, there may be a
conflict of purely impersonal ideals. Nietzsche's hero differs from a Christian
saint, yet both are impersonalIy admired, the one by Nietzscheans, the other by Christians. How are we to decide
between the two except by means of our own desires? Yet, if there is nothing
further, an ethical disagreement can only be decided by emotional appeals, or
by force-in the ultimate resort, by war. On questions of fact, we can appeal to
science and scientific methods of observation; but on ultimate questions of
ethics there seems to be nothing analogous.
Yet, if this is realIy the case, ethIcal dIsputes resolve
themselves mto contests for power-including
propaganda power.
p.
132
...
He
[Thrasymacus] proclaims empatathically
that 'justice is nothing else than the interest of the stronger'.
This point of view is
refuted by Socrates with quibbles; it is never fairly faced. It raises the
fundamental question in ethics and politics, namely: Is there any standard of 'good'
and 'bad', except what the man using these words desires? If there is not, many
of the consequences drawn by Thrasymachus seem unescapable. Yet how are we to say that there is?
At this point, religion
has, at first sight, a simple answer. God determines what is good and what bad;
the man whose will is in harmony with the will of God is a good man. Yet this
answer is not quite orthodox. Theologians say that God is good, and this
implies that there is a standard of goodness which is independent of God's
will. We are thus forced to face the question: Is there objective truth or
falsehood in such a statement as 'pleasure is good', in the same sense as in
such a statement as 'snow is white’?
To answer this question,
a very long discussion would be necessary. Some may think that we can, for
practical purposes, evade the fundamental issue, and say: 'I do not know what
is meant by "objective truth", but I shall consider a statement
"true" if all, or virtually alI, of those
who have investigated it are agreed in upholding it: In this sense, it is
'true' that snow is white, that Caesar was assassinated, that water is composed
of hydrogen and oxygen, and so on. We are then faced with a question of fact:
are there any similarly agreed statements in ethics? If there are, they can be
made the basis both for rules of private conduct, and for a theory of politics.
If there are not, we are driven in practice, whatever may be the philosophic
truth, to a contest by force or propaganda or both, whenever an irreconciliable ethical difference exists between powerful
groups.
p. 133
It
should be observed, further, that the view which substitutes the consensus of
opinion for an objective standard has certain consequences that few would
accept. What are we to say of scientific innovators like Galileo, who advocate
an opinion with which few agree, but finally win the support of almost
everybody? They do so by means of arguments, not by emotional appeals or state
propaganda or the use of force. This implies a criterion other than the general
opinion. In ethical matters, there is something analogous in the case of the
great religious teachers. Christ taught that it is not wrong to pluck ears of
corn on the Sabbath, but that it is wrong ta hate
your enemies. Such ethical innovations obviously imply some standard other than
majority opinion, but the standard, whatever it is, is not objective fact, as
in a scientific question. This problem is a difficult one, and I do not profess
to be able to solve it. For the present, let us be content to note it.
p. 134
Death, says Socrates, is
the separation of soul and body. Here we come under Plato’s dualism: between
reality and appearance, ideas and sensible objects, reason and sense-perception,
soul and body. These pairs are connected: the first in each pair is superior to
the second both in reality and in goodness. An ascetic morality was the natural
consequence of this dualism. Christianity adopted this doctrine in part, but
never wholly. There were two obstacles. The first was that the creation of the
visible world, if Plato was right, might seem to have been an evil deed, and
therefore the Creator could not be good. The second was that orthodox
Christianity could never bring itself to condemn marriage, though it held
celibacy to be nobler. The Manichaeans were more conistent in both respects.
p. 148-9
That two shades of colour, both of which I am seeing, are similar or
dissimilar as the case may be, is something which I, for my part, should
accept, not indeed as a 'percept', but as a 'judgment of perception'. A
percept, I should say, is not knowledge, but merely something that happens, and
that belongs equally to the world of physics and to the world of psychology. We
naturalIy think of perception, as Plato does, as a
relation between a percipient and an object: we say 'I see a table.' But here
'I' and 'table' are logical constructions. The core of crude occurrence is
merely certain patches of colour.These are associated
with images of touch, they may cause words, and they may become a source of
memories. The percept as filled out with images of touch becomes an 'object',
which is supposed physical; the percept as filled out with words and memories
becomes a ’perrception’
which is part of a 'subject' and is considered mental. The percept is just an
occurrence, and neither true nor false; the percept as filIed
out with words is a judgment, and capable of truth or falsehood. This judgment
I call a 'judgment of perception'. The proposition 'knowledge is perception'
must be interpreted as meaning 'knowledge is judgments of perception'. It is
only in this form that it is grammaticalIy capable of
being correct.
To return to likeness and unlikeness, it is quite possible, when I
perceive two colours simultaneously, for their likeness or unlikeness to be
part of the datum, and to be asserted in a judgment of perception. Plato's
argument that we have no sense-organ for perceiving likeness and unlikeness
ignores the cortex and assumes that all sense-organs must be at the surface of
the body.
The
argument for including likeness and unlikeness as possible perceptive data is
as folIows. Let us assume that we see two shades of colour
A and B, and that we judge 'A is like B'. Let us assume further, as Plato does,
that such a judgment is in general correct, and, in particular, is correct in
the case we are considering. There is, then, a relation of likeness between A
and B, and not merely a judgment on our part asserting likeness. If there were
only our judgment, it would be an arbitrary judgment, incapable of truth or
falsehood. Since it obviously is capable of truth or falsehood, the likeness
can subsist between A and B, and cannot be merely something 'mental'. The
judgment 'A is like B' is true (if it is true) in virtue of a 'fact', just as
much as the judgment ' A is red' or' A is round'. The mind is no more involved
in the perception of likeness than in the perception of colour.
p. 166-7
We
now come to the famous doctrine of the golden mean. Every virtue is a mean
between two extremes, each of which is a vice. This is proved by an examination
of the various virtues. Courage is a mean between cowardice and rashness;
liberality, between prodigality and meanness; proper pride, between vanity and
humility: ready wit, between buffoonery and boorishness; modesty, between
bashfulness and shamelessness. Some virtues do not seem to fit into this
scheme; for instance, truthfulness. Aristotle says that this is a mean between
boastfulness and mock-modesty (II08a), but this only applies to truthfulness
about oneself. I do not see how truthfulness in any wider sense can be titted into the scheme. There was once a mayor who had
adopted Aristotle's doctrine; at the end of his term of office he made a speech
saying that he had endeavoured to steer the narrow
line between partiality on the one hand and
impartiality on the other. The view of truthfulness as a mean seems scarcely
less absurd.
p.
186
The magnanimous man,
since he deserves most, must be good, in the highest degree; for the better man
always deserves more, and the best man most. Therefore the truly magnanimous
man must be good. And greatness in every virtue would seem to be characteristic
of the magnanimous man. And it would be most unbecoming for the magnanimous man
to fly from danger, swinging his arms by his sides, or to wrong another; for to
what end should he do disgraceful acts, he to whom nothing is great?
...magnanimity, then, seems to be a sort of crown of the virtues; for it makes
them greater, and it is not found without them. Therefore it is hard to be truly
magnanimous; for it is impossible without nobility and goodness of character.
It is chiefly with honours and dishonours,
then, that the magnanimous man is concemed; and at honours that are great and conferred by good men he will be
moderately pleased, thinking that he is coming by his own or even less than his
own; for there can be no honour that is worthy of
perfect virtue, yet he will at any rate accept it since they have nothing
greater to bestow on him; but honour from casual
people and on trifling grounds he will utterly despise, since ît is not this that he deserves, and dishonour
too, since in his case it cannot be just. ...Power and wealth are desirable for
the sake of honour; and to him for whom even honour is a little thing the others must be so too. Hence
magnanimous men are thought to be disdainful. ...The magnanimous man does not
run into trifling dangers. ...but he will face great dangers, and when he is in
danger he is unsparing of bis life, knowing that
there are conditions on which life is not worth having. And he is the sort of
man to confer benefits, but he is ashamed of receiving them; for the one is the
mark of a superior, the other of an inferior. And he is apt to confer greater
benefits in return; for thus the original benefactor besides being repaid will
incur a debt to him. ...It is the mark of the magnanimous man to ask for
nothing or scarcely anything, but to give help readily, and to be dignified
towards people who enjoy a high position but unassuming towards those of the
middle class; for it is a difficult and lofty thing to be superior to the
former, but easy to be so to the latter, and a lofty bearing over the former is
no mark of ill-breeding, but among humble people it is as vulgar as a display
of strength against the weak. ...He must also be open in his hate and in bis love, for to conceal one's feelings, i.e. to care less
for truth than for what people think, is a coward's part. ...He is free of
speech because he is contemptuous, and he is given to telling the truth, except
when he speaks in irony to the vulgar. ...Nor is he given to admiration, for to
him nothing is great. ...Nor is he a gossip; for he will speak neither about
himself nor about another, since he cares not to be praised nor for others to
be blamed. ...He is one who will possess beautiful and profitless things rather
than profitable and useful ones. ... Further, a slow step is thought proper to
the magnanimous man, a deep voice, and a level utterance. ...Such, then, is the
magnanimous man; the man who falls short of him is unduly humble, and the man
who goes beyond bim is vain' (II23b-II25a).
p.
187-8
Many modern
philosophers, however, have not accepted this view of ethics. They have thought
that one should first define the good, and then say that our actions ought to
be such as tend to realize the good. This point of
view is more like that of Aristotle, who holds that happiness is the good. The
highest happiness, it is true, is only open to the philosopher, but to
Aristotle that is no objection to the theory.
Ethical
theories may be divided into two classes, according as they regard virtue as an
end or a means. Aristotle, on the whole, takes the view that virtues are means to
an end, namely happiness. 'The end, then, being what we wish for, the means
what we deliberate about and choose, actions concerning means must be according
to choice and voluntary. Now the exercise of the virtues is concerned with
means' (1113b). But there is another sense of virtue in which it is included in
the ends of action: 'Human good is activity of soul in accordance with virtue
in a complete life' (1098a). I think he would say that the intenectual
virtues are ends, but the practical virtues are only means. Christian moralists
hold that, while the consequences of virtuous actions are in general good, they
are not as good as the virtuous actions themselves, which are to be
valued on their own account, and not on account of their effects. On the other
hand, those who consider pleasure the good regard virtues solely as means. Any
other definition of the good, except the definition as virtue, will have the
same consequence, that virtues are means to goods other than themselves. On
this question, Aristotle, as already said, agrees mainly, though not wholly,
with those who think the first business of ethics is to define the good, and that virtue is to be defined as action tending to
produce the good.
p. 190
As we have
seen in connection with slavery, Aristotle is no believer in equality. Granted,
however, the subjection of slaves and women, it still remains a question
whether aIl citizens should be politically
equal. Some men, he says, think this desirable, on the ground
that aIl revolutions turn on the regulation of
property. He rejects this argument, maintaining that the greatest crimes are
due to excess rather than want; no man becomes a tyrant in order ta avoid feeling the cold.
A
govemment is good when it aims at the good of the
whole community, bad when it cares only for itself. There are three kinds I of govemment that are good: monarchy, aristocracy, and constituitional govemment (or
polity): there are three that are bad: tyranny, oligarchy, and democracy. There
are also many mixed interrnediate forms. It will be
observed that the good and bad govemments are defined
by the ethical qualities of the holders of power, not by the forrn of the constitution. This, however, is only partly
true. An aristocracy is a rule of men of virtue, an oligarchy is a rule of the
rich, and Aristotle does not consider virtue and wealth strictly synonymous.
What he holds, in accordance with the doctrine of the golden mean, is that a moderate
competence is most likely to be associated with virtue: 'Mankind do not acquire
or preserve virtue by the help of extemal goods, but extemal goods by the help of virtue and happiness, whether
consisting in pleasure or virtue, or both, is more often found with those who
are most highly cultivated in their mind and in their character, and have only
a moderate share of extemal goods, than among those
who possess extemal goods to a useless extent but are
deficient in higher qualities' (1323a and b). There is therefore a difference
between the rule of the best (aristocracy) and of the richest (oligarchy),
since the best are likely to have only moderate fortunes. There is also a
difference between democracy and polity, in addition to the ethical difference in
the govemment, for what Aristotle calls 'polity'
retains some oligarchic elements (1293b). But between monarchy and tyranny the
only difference is ethical.
p. 200
The Greeks in general
attached more importance to deduction as a source of knowledge than modern
philosophers do. In this respect, Aristotle was less at fault than Plato; he
repeatedly admitted the importance of induction, and be
devoted considerable attention to the question: how do we know the first premisses from which deduction must start? Nevertheless,
he, like other Greeks, gave undue prominence to deduction in his theory of
knowledge. We shaIl agree that Mr
Smith (say) is mortal, and we may, loosely, say that we know this because we
know that aIl men are mortal. But what we reaIly know is not 'alI men are
morta1'; we know rather something like 'aIl men born
more than one hundred and fifty years ago are mortal, and so are almost aIl men born more than one hundred years ago'. This is our
reason for thinking that Mr Smith wiIl
die. But this argument is an induction, not a deduction. It has less cogency
than a deduction, and yields only a probability, not a certainty; but on the
other band it gives new knowledge, which deduction does not. AIl the important inferences outside logic and pure
mathematics are inductive, not deductive; the only exceptions are law and theleogy ,
each of which derives its first principles from an unquestionable text, viz.
the statute books or the scriptures.
p. 209-10
Euclid,
Who was still, when I was young, the sole acknowledged text-book of geometry
for boys, lived in Alexandria, about 300 B.C., a few years after the death of Alexander
and Aristotle. Most of his Elements was not
original, but the order of propositions, and the logical structure, were
largely his. The more one studies geometry, the more admirable these are seen
to be. The treatment of paralls by means of the famous
postulate of parallels has the twofold merit of rigour
in deduction and of not concealing the dubiousness of the initial assumption.
The theory of proportion, which follows Eudoxus,
avoids all the difficulties connected with irrationals, by methods essentially
similar to those introduced by Weierstrass into
nineteenth-century analysis.
p. 220
There
is in
The Romans
were too practical-minded to appreciate
p. 221
The
Pythagorean theory is attributed to Philolaus, a
Theban, who lived at the end of the fifth century B.C. Although it is fanciful
and in part quite unscientific, it is very important, since it involves the
greater part of the imaginative effort required for conceiving the Copemican hypothesis. To conceive of the earth, not as the
centre of the universe, but as one among the planets, not as eternally fixed, but
as wandering through space, showed an extraordinary emancipation from
anthropocentric thinking. When once this jolt had been given to men’s natural
picture of the universe, it was not so very difficult to be led by scientific
arguments to a more accurate theory .
..
Aristarchus of Samos, who lived approximately from 310 to 230 B.C., and
was thus about twenty-five years older than Archimedes, is the most interesting
of all ancient astronomers, because he advanced the complete Copemican hypothesis, that alI
the planets, including the earth, revolve in circles round the sun, and that
the earth, rotates on its axis once in twenty-four hours. It is a little disappoinring to find that the only extant work of Aristarchus, On the Sizes and Distances of the Sun and
the Moon, adheres to the geocentric view. It is true that, for the problems
with which this book deals, it makes no difference which theory is adopted, and
he may therefore have thought it unwise to burden his calculations with an
unnecessary opposition to the general opinion of astronomers; or he may have
only arrived at the Copemican hypothesis after
writing this book.
p. 223
His doctrine,
though he was a contemporary of Aristotle, belongs in its temper to the Hellenistic
age. Aristotle is the last Greek philosopher who faces the world cheerfully;
after him, allI have, in one form or another, a
philosophy of retreat. The world is bad; let us learn to be independent of it.
External goods are precarious; they are the gift of fortune, not the reward of
our own efforts. Only subjective goods – virtue or contentment through
resignation – are secure, and these alone, therefore, will be valued by the
wise man. Diogenes personally was a man full of vigour,
but his doctrine, like aIl those of the Hellenistic
age, was one to appeal to weary men, in whom disappointment had destroyed
natural zest. And certainly not a doctrine calculated to promote art or science
statesmanship, or any useful activity except one of powerful evil.
p. 242
The Sophists, notably Protagoras and Gorgias, had been
led by the ambiguities and apparent contradictions of sense-perception to a
subjectivism not unlike Hume's. Pyrrho seems (for he
very wisely wrote no books) to have added moral and logical scepticism
to scepticism as to the senses. He is said to have
maintained that there could never be any rational ground for preferring one
course of action to another. In practice, this meant that one conformed to the
customs of whatever country one inhabited.
..
Scepticism naturally made an appeal to many unphilosophic minds.
People observed the diversity of schools and the acerbity of their disputes,
and decided that all alike were pretending to knowledge which was in fact
unattainable. Scepticism was a lazy man's
consolation, since it showed the ignorant to be as wise as the reputed men of
learning. To men who, by temperament, required a gospel, it might seem
unsatisfying, but like every doctrine of the Hellenistic period it recommended
itself as an antidote to worry. Why trouble about the future? It is wholly
uncertain. You may as well enjoy the present; 'what's to corne
is still unsure.' For these reasons, Scepticism
enjoyed a considerable popular success.
It should be
observed that Scepticism as a philosophy is not
merely doubt, but what may be called dogmatic doubt. The man of science says 'l
think it is so-and-so, but I am not sure.' The man of intellectual curiosity
says 'I don't know how it is, but I hope to find out.' The philosophical Sceptic says 'nobody knows, and nobody, ever can know.' It
is this element of dogmatism that makes the system vulnerable.
p. 243
This treatise
begins by explaining that, in behaviour, the
Sceptics are orthodox : 'We sceptics follow in practice the way of the world, but
without holding any opinion about it. We speak of the Gods as existing and
offer worship to the Gods and say that they exercise providence, but in saying
this we express no belief, and avoid the rashness of the dogmatizers.'
He
then argues that people differ as to the nature of God; for instance, some
think Him corporeal, some incorporeal. Since we have no experience of Him, we
cannot know His attributes. The existence of God is not self-evident, and
therefore needs proof. There is a somewhat confused argument to show that no
such proof is possible. He next takes up the problem of evil and concludes with
the words:
'Those
who affirm positively that God exists cannot avoid falling into an impiety. For
if they say that God controls everything, they make Him the author of evil
things; if, on the other hand, they say that He controls some things only, or
that He controls nothing, they are compelled to make God either grudging or
impotent, and to do that is quite obviously an impiety .'
p. 248
The life of
the community was very simple, partly on principle, and partly (no doubt) for
lack of money. Their food and drink was mainly bread and water, which Epicurus
found quite satisfying. ‘I am thrilled with pleasure in the body,’ he says,
'when I live on bread àrtd water, and I spît on luxurious pleasures, not for their own sake, but
because of the inconveniences that follow them.’
p. 250
The
philosophy of Epicurus, like all those of his age (with the partial exception
of Scepticism), was primarily designed to secure tranquillity. He considered pleasure to be the good, and
adhered, with remarkable consistency, to all the consequences of this view.
'Pleasure,' he said, 'is the beginning and end of the blessed life.’ Diogenes Laertius quotes him as saying, in a book on TheEnd of Life, 'I know not how I can
conceive the good, if I withdraw pleasures of taste and withdraw the pleasures
of love and those of hearing and sight.' Again: 'The beginning and the root of
all good is the pleasure of the stomach; even wisdom and culture referred to
this.' The pleasure of the mind, we are told, is the contemplation of pleasures
of the body. Its only advantage over bodily pleasures is that we can leam to contemplate pleasure rather pain, and thus have
more control over mental than over physical pleasures. 'Virtue', unless it
means 'prudence in the pursuit of pleasure', is an empty name. Justice, for
example, consists in so acting as not to have occasion to fear other men's
resentment – a view which leads to a doctrine of the origin of society not
unlike the theory of the Social Contract.
p. 252
Sexual
love, as one of the most 'dynamic' of pleasures, naturally cornes
under the ban. 'Sexual intercourse,' the philosopher declares, ‘has never done
a man good and he is lucky if it has not harmed him.' He was fond of chlldren (other people's), but for the gratlfication
of this taste he seems to have relied upon other people not to follow his
advice. He seems, in fact, to have liked children against his better judgment;
for he considered marriage and children a distraction from more serious
pursuits. Lucretius, who follows him in denouncing
love, sees no harm in sexual intercourse provided it is divorced from passion.
p.
253
It
was through the problem of avoiding fear that Epicurus was led into theoretical
philosophy. He held that two of the greatest sources of fear were religion and
the dread of death, which were connected, since religion encouraged the view
that the dead are unhappy. He therefore sought a metaphysic which would prove
that the gods do not interfere in human affairs, and that the soul perishes
with the body. Most modern people think of religion as a consolation, but to
Epicurus it was the opposite. Supernatural interference with the course of
nature seemed to him a source of terror, and immortality fatal to the hope of
release from pain. Accordingly he constructed an elaborate doctrine designed to
cure men of the beliefs that inspire fear.
Epicurus was a
materialist, but not a determinist. He followed Democritus in believing that
the world consists of atoms and the void; but he did not believe, as Oemocritus did, that the atoms are at all times completely
controlled by natural laws. The conception of necessity in
As
for the gods, Epicurus firmly believes in their existence, since he cannot
otherwise account for the widespread existence of the idea of gods. But he is
persuaded that they do not trouble themselves with the affairs of our human
world. They are rational hedonists, who follow his precepts, and abstain from
public life; government would be an unnecessary labour,
to which, in their life of complete blessedness, they feel no temptation. Of
course, divination and augury and all such practices are purely superstitious,
and so is the belief in
..
The phases of
the moon, for example, have been explained in many different ways; any one of
these, so long as it does not bring in the gods, is as good as any other, and it would be idle curiosity to attempt to
determine which of them is true. It is no wonder that the Epicureans
contributed practically nothing to natural knowledge. They served a useful
purpose by their protest against the increasing devotion of the later pagans to
magic, astrology, and divination; but they remained, like their founder,
dogmatic, limited, and without genuine interest in anything outside individual
happiness.
p. 254-255
The religion
of Mithras, which was of PersIan
origin, was a close competitor of Christianity, especially during the latter
half of the third century A.D. The emperors, who were making attempts to
control the army, felt that religion might give a much needed stability; but it
would have to be one of the new religions, since it was these that the soldiers
favoured. The cult was introduced at
p.
286
Plotinus, accordingly, is
historically important as an influence in moulding the Christianity of the
Middle Ages and of Catholic theology.The historian,
in speaking of Christianity, has to be careful to recognize the very great
changes that it has undergone, and the variety of forms that it may assume even
at one epoch, The Christianity of the Synoptic Gospels is almost innocent of
metaphysics. The Christianity of modem America, in this respect, is like
primitive Christianity; Platonism is alien in popular thought and feeling in
the United States, and most American Christians are much more concemed with duties here on earth, and with social
progress in the everyday world, than with the transcendental hopes that
consoled men when everything terrestrial inspired despair. I am not speaking of
any change of dogma, but of a difference of emphasis and interest. A modem
Christian, unless he realizes how great this difference is, will fail to
understand the Christianity of the past. We, since our study is historical, are
concemed with the effective beliefs of past
centuries, and as to these it is impossible to disagree with what Dean Inge says on the influence of Plato and Plotinus.
Plotinus, however, is not only
historically important. He represents, better than any other philosopher,
an important type of theory. A philosophical system may be judged important for
various different kinds of reasons. The first and most obvious is that we think
it may be true. Not many students of philosophy at the present time would feel
this about Plotinus; Dean Inge
is, in this respect, a rare exception. But truth is not the only merit that
metaphysic can possess. It may have beauty, and this is certainly to be found
in Plotinus; there are passages that remind one of
the late cantos of Dante's Paradiso, and
of almost nothing else in literature.
Now
and again, his descriptions of the eternaI world of
glory
To our high-wrought fantasy present
That undisturbed song of pure concent
Aye sung before the
sapphire-coloured throne
To Him that sits thereon.
Again,
a philosophy may be important because it expresses what men are prone to
believe in certain moods or in circumstances. Uncomplicated joy and sorrow is
not matter for philosophy, but rather for the simpler kinds of poetry and
music. Only joy and sorrow accompanied by reflection on the universe generate
metaphysical theories. A man may be a cheerful pessimist or a melancholy
optimist.
pp.
290-1
The
first great period of Catholic philosophy was dominated by
The
thirteenth-century synthesis, which had an air of completeness and finality,
was destroyed by a variety of causes. Perhaps the most important of these was
the growth of a rich commercial class, first in
Another
cause of the end of the Middle Ages was the rise of
strong national monarchies in
The
papacy, meanwhile, had lost the moral prestige which it had enjoyed, and on the
whole deserved, in the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries. First by
subservience to
p.
305
The Greek view, that creation
out of nothing is impossible, has recurred at intervals in Christian times, and
has led to pantheism. Pantheism holds that God and the world are not distinct,
and that everything in the world is part of God. This view is developed most
fully in Spinoza, but is one to which almost all mystics are attracted. It has
thus happened, throughout the Christian centuries, that mystics have had
difficulty in remaining orthodox, since they find it hard to believe that the
world is outside God. Augustine, however, feels no difficulty on this point;
Genesis is explicit, and that is enough for him. His view on this matter is
essential to his theory of time.
Why was the
world not created sooner? Because there was no ‘sooner'.
Time was created when the world was created. God is eternal, in the sense of
being timeless; in God there is no before and after, but only an eternal
present. God's eternity is exempt from the relation of time; all time is
present to Him at once. He did not precede His own creation of time, for
that would imply that He was in time, whereas He stands eternally outside the
stream of time. This leads
'What, then,
is time?' he asks. ‘If no one asks of me, I know; if I wish to explain to him
who asks, I know not.' Various difficulties perplex him. Neither past nor
future, he says, but only the present, really is; the present is only a
moment, and time can only be measured while it is passing. Nevertheless, there
really is time past and future. We seem here to be led into contradictions. The
only way Augustine can find to avoid these contradictions is to say that past
and future can only be thought of as present: ‘past' must be identified with
memory, and ‘future' with expectation, memory and expectation being both
present facts. There are, he says, three times: ‘a present of things past, a
present of things present, and a present of things future'. 'The present of
things past is memory: the present of things present is sight; and the present
of things future is expectation. To say that there are three times, past,
present, and future, is a loose way of speaking.
p.
352
The Jewish pattern of
history, past and future, is such as to make a powerful appeal ta the oppressed and unfartunate
at all times.
Yahweh = Dialectical Materialism
The Messiah = Marx
The Elect = The
Proletariat
The Church = The
Communist Party
The Second Coming = The
Revolution
Hell = Punishment
of the Capitalists
The
Millennium = The
The terms on the
left give the emotional content of the terms on the right, and it is this
emotional content, familiar to those who have had a Christian or a Jewish
upbringing, that makes Marx's eschatology credible. A similar dictionary could
be made for the Nazis, but their conceptions are more purely Old Testament and
less Christian than those of Marx, and their Messiah is more analogous to the Maccabees than to Christ.
p. 361
Our
use of the phrase 'the Dark Ages' to cover the period from 600 to 1000 marks
our undue concentration on
Our
superiority since the Renaissance is due partly to science and scientific
technique, partly to political institutions slowly built up during the Middle
Ages. There is no reason, in the nature of things, why this superiority should
continue. In the present war, great military strength has been shown by
p. 395
John was invited to
He escaped punishment, however, owing to the support of the king, with
whom he seems to have been on faimiliar terms. If
William of Malmesbury is to be believed, the king,
when John was dining with him, asked: 'What separates a Scot froll a Sot ?' and John replied,
'Only the dinner table’. The king died in 877, and after this date nothing is
known as to John. Some think that he also died in that year. There are legends
that he was invited to
p.
398
The Arab Empire was an
absolute monarchy, under the caliph, who was the successor of the Prophet, and
inherited much of his holiness. The caliphate was nominaIly
elective, but soon became hereditary. The first dynasty, that of the Umayyads, who lasted till 750, was founded by men whose
acceptance of Mohammed was purely political, and it remained always opposed to
the more fanatical among the faithful. The Arabs, although they conquered a
great part of the world in the name of a new religion, were not a very
religious race; the motive of their conquests was plunder and wealth rather
than religion. It was only in virtue of their lack of fanaticism that a handful
of warriors were able to govern, witbout much
difficulty, vast populations of higher civilization and alien religion.
The
Persians, on the contrary, have been, from the earlier times, deeply religious
and highly speculative. After their conversion, they made out of Islam
something much more interesting, more religious, and more philosophical, than
had been imagined by the Prophet and his kinsmen. Ever since the death of
Mohammed’s son-in-law Ali in 661, Mohammedans have been divided into two sects,
the Sunni and the Shiah. The former is the larger;
the latter follows Ali, and considers the Umayyad dynasty to have been usurpers.
The Persians have long belonged to the Shiah sect.
Largely by Persian influence, the Umayyads were at
last overthrown, and succeeded by the Abbasids, who represented Persian
interests. The change was marked by the removal of the capital from
The Abbasids were,
politically, more in favour of the fanatics than the Umayyads had heen. They did not,
however, acquire the whole of the empire. One member of the Umayyad family
escaped general massacre, fled to
Under the
early Abbasids the caliphate attained its greatest splendour.
The best known of them is Harun-al-Rashid (d. 809),
who was a contemporary of Charlemagne and the Empress Irene, and is to every
one in legendary form through the Arabian Nights. His court was a
brilliant centre of luxury, poetry, and learning; his revenue was enormous; his
empire stretched from the Straits of Gibraltar to the
The political and social
system of the Arabs had defects similar those of the
One of the best features
of the Arab economy was agriculture, particularly the skilful use of
irrigation, which they learnt from living where water is scarce. To this day
Spanish agriculture profits by Arab irrigation works.
The
distinctive culture of the Muslim world, though it began in
Meanwhile, in
Persian civilization
remained both intellectuaIly and artisticaIly
admirable, though it was seriously damaged by the invasion of the Mongols in
the thirteenth century. Omar Khayyam, the only man
known to me who was both a poet and a mathematician, reformed the calendar in
1079. His best friend, oddly enough, was the founder of the sect of the
Assassins, the 'Old Man of the Mountain', of legendary fame. The Persians were
great poets: Firdousi (ca. 941), author of the
Shahnama, is said by those who have
read him to be comparable to Homer. They were also remarkable as mystics, which
other Mohammedans were not. The Sufi sect, which still
exists, allowed itself great latitude in the mystical and allegorical
interpretation of orthodox dogma; it was more or less Neoplatonic.
The
Nestorians, through whom, at first, Greek influences came into the Muslim
world, were by no means purely Greek in their outlook. Their school at
Two Mohammedan
philosophers, one of
Avicenna (Ibn Sina) (980-1037) spent his
life in the sort of places that one used to think only exist in poetry. He was
born in the
His
philosophy is nearer to Aristotle, and less Neoplatonic,
than that of his Muslim predecessors. Like the Christian scholastics later, he
is occupied with the problem of universals. Plato said they were anterior to
things. Aristotle has two views, one when he is thinking, the
other when he is combating Plato. This makes him ideal material for the
commentator.
Pp. 414-417
Arabic
philosophy is not important as original thought. Men like Avicenna and Averroes are essentially commentators. Speaking generally,
the views of the more scientific philosophers come from Aristotle and the Neoplatonists in logic and metaphysics, from Galen in
medicine, from Greek and Indian sources in mathematics and astronomy, and among
mystics religious philosophy has also an admixture of old Persian beliefs.
Writers in Arabic showed some originality in mathematics and in chemistry-in
the latter case, as an incidental result of alchemical researches. Mohammedan
civilization in its great days was admirable in the arts and in many technical
ways, but it showed no capacity for independent speculation in theoretical matters.
Its importance, which must not be under-rated, is as a transmitter. Between
ancient and modern European civilization, the dark ages intervened. The
Mohammedans and the Byzantines, while lacking the intellectual energy required
for innovation, preserved the apparatus of civilization-education, books, and
learned leisure. Both stimulated the West when it emerged from barbarism-the
Mohammedans chiefly in the thirteenth century, the Byzantines chiefly in the
fifteenth. In each case the stimulus produced new thought better than any
produced by the transmitters -in the one case scholasticism, in the other the
Renaissance (which however had other causes also).
Between the
Spanish Moors and the Christians, the Jews formed a useful link. There were
many Jews in
p. 420
The rise of free cities is what proved of most ultimate importance in
this long strife. The power of the Emperor was associated with the decaying
feudal system; the power of the Pope, though still growing, was largely
dependent upon the world's need of him as an antagonist to the Emperor, and
therefore decayed when the Empire ceased to be a menace; but the power of the
cities was new, a result of economic progress, and a source of new political
forms. Although this does not appear in the twelfth century, the Italian
cities, befare long, developed a non-clerical culture
which reached the very highest levels in literature, in art, and in science.
All this was rendered possible by their successful resistance to Barbarossa.
p.
426
During
the fifteenth century, various other causes were added to the decline of the
papacy to produce a very rapid change, both political and cultural. Gunpowder
strengthened central governments at the expense of the feudal nobility. In
p. 475
The men who founded
modem science had two merits which are not necessarily found together: immense
patience in observation, and great boldness in framing hypotheses. The second
of these merits had belonged to the earliest Greek philosophers; the first
existed, to a considerable degree, in the later astronomers of antiquity. But
no one among the the ancients, except perhaps Aristarchus, possessed both merits, and no one in the Middle Ages possessed either. Copernicus, like his great
successor, possessed both.
p. 514
He
[Descartes] lived in
p. 543
Even before the Reformation, theologians tended to
believe in setting limits to kingly power. This was part of the battle between
the Church and the State which raged throughout
p. 597
Kant himself was a man whose ourlook
on practical affairs was kindly and humanitarian, but the same cannot be said
of most of those who rejected happiness as the good. The sort of ethic that is calIed 'noble' is less associated with attempts to improve
the world than is the more mundane view that we should seek to make men
happier. This is not surprising. Contempt for happiness is easier when the
happiness is other people's than when it is our own.
Usually the substitute for happiness is some form of heroism. This affords
unconscious outlets for the impulse to power, and abundant excuses for cruelty.
Or, again, what is valued may be strong emotion; this was the case with the
romantics. This led to a toleration of such passions as hatred and revenge;
Byron's heroes are typical, and are never persons of exemplary behaviour. The
men who did most to promote human happiness were--as might have been
expected--those who thought happiness important, not those who despised it in
comparison with something more 'sublime'. Moreover, a man's ethic usually reflects
his character, and benevolence leads to a desire for the general happiness.
Thus the men who thought happiness the end of life tended to be the more
benevolent, while those who proposed other ends were often dominated,
unconsciously, by cruelty or love of power.
p. 620-1
We
may say, in a broad way, that Greek philosophy down to Aristotle expresses the
mentality appropriate to the City State; that Stoicism is appropriate to a
cosmopolitan despotism; that scholastic philosophy is an intellectual
expression of the Church as an organization; that philosophy since Descartes,
or at any rate since Locke, tends to embody the prejudices of the commercial
middle class; and that Marxism and Fascism are philosophies appropriate to the
modem industrial State. This, I think, is both true and important. I think,
however, that Marx is wrong in two respects. First, the social circumstances of
which account must be taken are quite as much political as economic; they have
to do with power, of which wealth is only one form. Second, social causation
largely ceases to apply as soon as a problem becomes detailed and technical.
The first of these objections I have set forth in my book Power, and I
shall therefore say no more about it. The second more intimately concems the history of philosophy, and I will give some
examples of its scope.
p.
751
Modem
analytical empiricism, of which I have been giving an outline, difiers from that of Locke, Berkeley, and Hume by its
incorporation of mathematics and its development of a powerful logical
technique. It is thus able, in regard to certain problems, to achieve definite
answers, which have the quality of science rather than of philosophy. It has
the advantage, as compared with the philosophies of the system-builders, of
being able to tackle its problems one at a time, instead of having to invent at
one stroke a block theory of the whole universe. Its methods, in this respect,
resemble those of science. I have no doubt that, in so far as philosophical
knowledge is possible, it is by such methods that it must be sought; I have
also no doubt that, by these methods, many ancient problems are completely
soluble.
There
remains, however, a vast field, traditionally included in philosophy, where
scientific methods are inadequate. This field includes ultimate questions of
value; science alone, for example, cannot prove that it is bad to enjoy the
infliction of cruelty .Whatever can be known, can be known by means of science;
but things which are legitimately matters of feeling lie outside its province.
Philosophy,
throughout its history, has consisted of two parts inharmoniously blended: on
the one hand a theory as to the nature of the world,
on the other an ethical or political doctrine as to the best way of living. The
failure to separate these two with sufficient clarity has been a source of much
confused thinking. Philosophers, from Plato to William James, have allowed
their opinions as to the constitution of the universe to be influenced by the
desire for edification: knowing, as they supposed, what beliefs would make men
virtuous, they have invented arguments, often very sophistical, to prove that these beliefs are true. For my part I
reprobate this kind of bias, both on moral and on intellectual grounds.
Morally, a philosopher who uses his professional competence for anything except
a disinterested search for truth is guilty of a kind of treachery. And when he
assumes, in advance of inquiry, that certain beliefs, whether true or false, are such as to promote good behaviour,
he is so limiting the scope of philosophical speculation as to make philosophy
trivial; the true philosopher is prepared to examine all preconceptions.
When any limits are placed, consciously or unconsciously, upon the pursuit of
truth, philosophy becomes paralysed by fear, and the
ground is prepared for a govemment censorship
punishing those who utter 'dangerous thoughts'- in fact, the philosopher has
already placed such a censorship over his own investigations.
Intellectually,
the effect of mistaken moral considerations upon philosophy has been to impede
progress to an extraordinary extent. I do not myself believe that philosophy
can either prove or disprove the truth of religious dogmas, but ever since
Plato most philosophers have considered it part of their business to produce
'proofs' of immortality and the existence of God. They have found fault with
the proofs of their predecessors--
All this is
rejected by the philosophers who make logical analysis the main business of
philosophy. They confess frankly that the human intellect is unable to find
conclusive answers to many questions of profound
importance to mankind, but they refuse to believe that there is some 'higher'
way of knowing, by which we can discover truths hidden from science and the
intellect. For this renunciation they have been rewarded by the discovery that
many questions, formerly obscured by the fog of metaphysics, can be answered
with precision, and by objective methods which introduce nothing of the
philosopher's temperament except the desire to understand. Take such questions
as: What is number? What are space and time? What is mind, and what is matter?
I do not say that we can here and now give definitive answers to all these
ancient questions, but I do say that a method has been discovered by which, as
in science, we can make successive approximations to the truth, in which each
new stage results from an improvement, not a rejection, of what has gone
before.
In the welter
of conflicting fanaticisms, one of the few unifying forces is scientific
truthfulness, by which I mean the habit of basing our beliefs upon observations
and inferences as impersonal, and as much divested of local and temperamental
bias, as is possible for human beings. To have insisted upon the introduction
of this virtue into philosophy, and to have invented a powerful method by which
it can be rendered fruitful, are the chief merits of the philosophical school
of which I am a member. The habit of careful veracity acquired in the practice
of this philosophical method can be extended to the whole sphere of human
activity, producing, wherever it exists, a lessening of fanaticism with an
increasing capacity of sympathy and mutual understanding. In abandoning a part
of its dogmatic pretensions, philosophy does not cease to suggest and inspire a
way of life.
Pp. 788-9