Time to take a halftime break in Mysticism and Logic. What have we learned in the first half?
Both intuition and logic are part of the human condition, akin to Plato’s two horses or Kahneman's System 1 and System 2. Intuition is particularly well suited to guiding quick judgments in dangerous circumstances; these circumstances, however, are not as common as they were when the intuitive decision capability evolved. As a result, intuition is often a source of error, probably, on net, a disadvantage for philosophy. What intuition or mystical insights can do is to suggest hypotheses and incentivize us to examine scientific or philosophical questions – these are the benefits of intuition in increasing our understanding. But once the incentivizing is done, the analysis must be conducted in a disinterested fashion, unaffected by our hopes and fears. We must examine the world as it is, not as we might wish it to be. Mysticism can provide an attitude, a stance, that promotes understanding, but reason is the tool for uncovering truths. Intuitive reflection also can aid rational inquiry through its frequent championing of a sort of detachment, which is the proper attitude for scientific investigation.
Philosophy can and should employ the methods of science, but not try to base reasoning on specific scientific results (which themselves are only approximate truths). When philosophers draw on evolution, for instance, they also adopt the unscientific (but personally comforting) viewpoint that things trend upwards, that there is a built-in progressive slant. Progress in philosophy cannot be secured by imposing preconditions on how the world must evolve.
An inappropriate certitude, the belief that a flash of insight reveals an unerring truth, is a negative consequence of mysticism. The common, intuitive sense of a grand unity also undermines rationality, as the personal interest of philosophers becomes to force reality into their preconceptions of this underlying harmony. Structures of philosophical thought can then be impressive and beautiful, but they are fragile: nothing remains for future thinkers to build on, because the foundations are faulty. In other sciences, mistaken ideas can nevertheless prove fruitful over time, as the errors are corrected while stronger elements remain. As a result, science has made great gains over the centuries – but it is hard to discern progress in philosophy, where past contributions collapse wholesale upon their shaky premises.
The usual argument in favor of science – that it produces technological wonders that make our lives better – is secondary to its chief virtue, that the outlook encouraged by science improves our way of thinking. And for Russell, education essentially is such an outlook, one that can broaden (temporally and geographically) our mental realms, in service to our primary desires. (One mark of a poor education is that it seeks to counter those primary desires.) Education can allow us to overcome our parochial blinkers. Beware of static disciplines, those that are too much in thrall to the past, as they narrow thought.
Chapters IV, V, and VI of Mysticism and Logic are devoted to the disciplines of mathematics and philosophy. Mathematics seeks truth, and attains beauty. Students can glimpse this beauty not by memorizing rules or by dwelling on the long-term material advantages tied to mathematical understanding, but by starting with examples, and then travelling the most pristine paths that lead to the general truths underlying the examples. Mathematics encourages and rewards the devotion to truth.
Mathematics only recently has become rigorous, thanks to advances (impressive, amazing advances) with respect to infinities, infinitesimals, continuity, and symbolic logic. Indeed, mathematics now can be seen as an application of logic. Some philosophical issues, such as Zeno’s paradoxes, have been cleared up in the process, and Euclid is relegated to historical interest. The further application of the full armory of mathematical logic could unleash a new golden age in philosophy.
Russell adopts a sort of Marxian view of prevailing ethics, that they serve the desires or interests of a subset of mankind, not universal truths. Indeed, we should recognize the limitations of those scientific “universal” truths that we do know, which we cannot trust to hold beyond the small piece of the universe we have been able to examine. Philosophy needs the scientific method to progress, but one part of the scientific posture is the notion that truths are provisional.
If there were a “which chapter is unlike the rest?” quiz for the first half of Mysticism and Logic, “A Free Man’s Worship” would be the obvious answer. The message here starts with the unavoidable recognition that the uncaring universe is not built for progress, or for us, or for our happiness. Each of us is a brief candle, soon to be extinguished. The key is to seize upon this recognition with gusto, to nourish and cling to our ideals, and to strive to use our flame, while we can, to aid and illuminate, to engage in the noble task of rendering this insignificant corner of space and time a somewhat better, more beautiful dwelling.
And so we move on to the second half of Mysticism and Logic…
Both intuition and logic are part of the human condition, akin to Plato’s two horses or Kahneman's System 1 and System 2. Intuition is particularly well suited to guiding quick judgments in dangerous circumstances; these circumstances, however, are not as common as they were when the intuitive decision capability evolved. As a result, intuition is often a source of error, probably, on net, a disadvantage for philosophy. What intuition or mystical insights can do is to suggest hypotheses and incentivize us to examine scientific or philosophical questions – these are the benefits of intuition in increasing our understanding. But once the incentivizing is done, the analysis must be conducted in a disinterested fashion, unaffected by our hopes and fears. We must examine the world as it is, not as we might wish it to be. Mysticism can provide an attitude, a stance, that promotes understanding, but reason is the tool for uncovering truths. Intuitive reflection also can aid rational inquiry through its frequent championing of a sort of detachment, which is the proper attitude for scientific investigation.
Philosophy can and should employ the methods of science, but not try to base reasoning on specific scientific results (which themselves are only approximate truths). When philosophers draw on evolution, for instance, they also adopt the unscientific (but personally comforting) viewpoint that things trend upwards, that there is a built-in progressive slant. Progress in philosophy cannot be secured by imposing preconditions on how the world must evolve.
An inappropriate certitude, the belief that a flash of insight reveals an unerring truth, is a negative consequence of mysticism. The common, intuitive sense of a grand unity also undermines rationality, as the personal interest of philosophers becomes to force reality into their preconceptions of this underlying harmony. Structures of philosophical thought can then be impressive and beautiful, but they are fragile: nothing remains for future thinkers to build on, because the foundations are faulty. In other sciences, mistaken ideas can nevertheless prove fruitful over time, as the errors are corrected while stronger elements remain. As a result, science has made great gains over the centuries – but it is hard to discern progress in philosophy, where past contributions collapse wholesale upon their shaky premises.
The usual argument in favor of science – that it produces technological wonders that make our lives better – is secondary to its chief virtue, that the outlook encouraged by science improves our way of thinking. And for Russell, education essentially is such an outlook, one that can broaden (temporally and geographically) our mental realms, in service to our primary desires. (One mark of a poor education is that it seeks to counter those primary desires.) Education can allow us to overcome our parochial blinkers. Beware of static disciplines, those that are too much in thrall to the past, as they narrow thought.
Chapters IV, V, and VI of Mysticism and Logic are devoted to the disciplines of mathematics and philosophy. Mathematics seeks truth, and attains beauty. Students can glimpse this beauty not by memorizing rules or by dwelling on the long-term material advantages tied to mathematical understanding, but by starting with examples, and then travelling the most pristine paths that lead to the general truths underlying the examples. Mathematics encourages and rewards the devotion to truth.
Mathematics only recently has become rigorous, thanks to advances (impressive, amazing advances) with respect to infinities, infinitesimals, continuity, and symbolic logic. Indeed, mathematics now can be seen as an application of logic. Some philosophical issues, such as Zeno’s paradoxes, have been cleared up in the process, and Euclid is relegated to historical interest. The further application of the full armory of mathematical logic could unleash a new golden age in philosophy.
Russell adopts a sort of Marxian view of prevailing ethics, that they serve the desires or interests of a subset of mankind, not universal truths. Indeed, we should recognize the limitations of those scientific “universal” truths that we do know, which we cannot trust to hold beyond the small piece of the universe we have been able to examine. Philosophy needs the scientific method to progress, but one part of the scientific posture is the notion that truths are provisional.
If there were a “which chapter is unlike the rest?” quiz for the first half of Mysticism and Logic, “A Free Man’s Worship” would be the obvious answer. The message here starts with the unavoidable recognition that the uncaring universe is not built for progress, or for us, or for our happiness. Each of us is a brief candle, soon to be extinguished. The key is to seize upon this recognition with gusto, to nourish and cling to our ideals, and to strive to use our flame, while we can, to aid and illuminate, to engage in the noble task of rendering this insignificant corner of space and time a somewhat better, more beautiful dwelling.
And so we move on to the second half of Mysticism and Logic…
