Tag Archives: Arnold Toynbee

What It Takes

This essay ends up considering arguments that natural science—especially mathematical physics—is based on absolute presup­positions whose mythological expression is found in Christianity—especially the doctrine of Incarnation.

I take note along the way of continuing censorship of Wikipedia by the Turkish state.

The post falls into sections as follows.

  • Where to start. To the thesis that everybody can be a philosopher, an antithesis is that persons with the professional title of philosopher ought to know the history of their subject.

  • Ontology. Disdain for this history may lead to misunderstanding of Anselm’s supposed proof of the existence of God.

  • Presupposition. To prove anything, you need a pou sto, or what Collingwood calls an absolute presupposition.

  • Progression. Newton rejected antiquated presuppositions.

  • Reaction. Coal-burners and racists reject new presuppositions.

  • Universality. From the 47th chapter of the Tao Te Ching (in the translation of Gia-fu Feng and Jane English):

    Without going outside, you may know the whole world.
    Without looking through the window, you may see the ways of heaven.
    The farther you go, the less you know.

    Thus the wise know without traveling;
    See without looking;
    Work without doing.

  • Religion. To say that we can know the laws governing the entire universe is like saying a human can be God.

  • Censorship. Thus everybody who believes in mathematical physics is a Christian, if only in the way that, by the Sun Language Theory, everybody in the world already speaks Turkish.

  • Trinity. That the university has several departments, all studying the same world—this is supposed to correspond to the triune conception of divinity.

This post began as a parenthesis in another post, yet to be completed, about passion and reason. To anchor that post in an established text, I thought back to David Hume, according to whom,

Reason is, and ought only to be[,] the slave of the passions, and can never pretend to any other office than to serve and obey them.

This might express something I said in my previous post: “Reason is the power of testing what we want.” However, I had not really read Hume since college. I thought more about things that had not ended up in the previous post—which was called “Effectiveness” and concerned the article of Eugene Wigner with that word in its title. As I thought and wrote, it seemed I was putting so much into a parenthesis that it could be another post. True, the same might be said of many things in this blog. In any case, the parenthesis in question became the present post.

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Duty to Nature

Index to this series

Summary and update (added October 14, 2018): When we do something, or propose to do something, we may explain it or justify it—give a reason for it—as being useful, right, or dutiful. Such is the theory of Collingwood, analyzed here, especially with regard to a question that has increasing urgency: have we a duty, not only to one another, but to nature?

When I originally composed this post, I had recently analyzed several relevant chapters of Collingwood’s New Leviathan:

Those chapters are the last in Part I, “Man.” Part II, “Society,” returns to the same ideas in Chapter XXVIII, “The Forms of Political Action.” I would analyze this, 18 months later; it has an example of abuse of the concept of duty, by the German political theorist Treitschke.

By one interpretation of a passage in Herodotus, the ancient Persians perceived a duty to nature, by a teaching now attributed to Zoroaster. His teachings influenced Manichaeism, and thus in turn the “Albigensian heresy,” the subject of Chapter XLIII of the New Leviathan.

We tend to explain what happens in the world the way we explain what we ourselves do. If our ethics are utilitarian, then, like the ancient Greeks, we may see things in nature too as serving purposes. If we govern, or aim to govern, our own behavior by laws, then we may also seek laws of nature, as physicists do now.

Being general in form, utility and law provide incomplete accounts of exactly what we do. Though we may not always use the word this way, duty is to be conceived as providing a complete account of what we do. Conscience tells us that we have a duty; then we have to reason out what it is. The corresponding science of the world is history, which studies us as free agents. Collingwood does not describe a corresponding science of nature as such, at least not in the New Leviathan; but at the end of his first book, Religion and Philosophy, he concluded that everything that happened must be an act of will. This was in the chapter called “Miracle,” which I looked at especially in “Effectiveness.”

It may be hard to distinguish lawful action from dutiful action. Here I look at the examples of

  • paying off a student loan;
  • smoking cigarettes, when rules restrict it;
  • collecting armaments, because, at the Last Supper, by the account in Luke, Jesus recommended buying swords;
  • Islam, as a rule-bound religion;
  • Christian denigrators of Islam, who find in it rules that they think believers must be bound by, even as some Muslims find inspiration in the teachings of Prophet Jesus.

I conclude with an Episcopal priest called Stephen Blackmer, for whom nature is a church and a member of his congregation.


This is a synthesis of some ideas from a recent spate of posts in this blog. A theme is the question of why we do what we do, and whether what we do to Nature in particular—how we think of Nature—can change.

Farhang Mehr, The Zoroastrian Tradition, cover with image of Zarathustra Continue reading