Tag Archives: herodotus

We the Pears of the Wild Coyote Tree

This is a preliminary report on two recent films:

  • The Wild Pear Tree, by Nuri Bilge Ceylan;
  • We the Coyotes, by Marco La Via and Hanna Ladoul.

The report is preliminary, not because there is going to be another, but because I have seen each film only once, and I may see one of them again. I remember that François Truffaut liked to see films at least twice. I would guess that I read this in The Washington Post, in an appreciation published when Truffaut died; however, he died on October 21, 1984, during the first semester of my sophomore year in Santa Fe, when I would not have been reading the Post. While in college, I did enjoy seeing some films twice, or a second time; Truffaut’s own 400 Coups was an example, a French teacher having shown it to us in high school.

The two films that I am reviewing concern young adults trying to find their own way in the world, in defiance of their elders. We all have to do this. In every generation, some will do it more defiantly than others. Heraclitus can be defiant, he of Ephesus and thus one of the Ionian philosophers, whose spirit I imagine to haunt the Nesin Mathematics Village. A further reason to bring up Heraclitus will be—gold.

Eva Brann, The Logos of Heraclitus, on Marmara Island, July, 2012

Continue reading

NL XXXIV: What Civilization Means Generically

Index to this series

Having studied, in the New Leviathan,

  • the individual human being in Part I, and
  • communities of human beings in Part II,

we turn now to Part III, on the subject of civilization (34. 1). This is something that happens to a community (34. 4). It is a “process of approximation to an ideal state” (34. 5). That is the gist of Chapter XXXIV, “What ‘Civilization’ Means: Generically.”


We have returned to Istanbul. Below are sunset photos from our last night on the Aegean coast

Continue reading

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

Psychology

Preface (January 17–18, 2019). This essay is built around two extended quotations from Collingwood.

  1. One is from the posthumous Idea of History (1946) with the core idea, “people do not know what they are doing until they have done it.”
  2. The other is from An Essay on Philosophical Method (1933), about how logic is neither a purely descriptive nor a purely normative science.

The quotations pertain to the title subject of psychology for the following reasons.

  1. Psychological experiments show that we may not know what we are doing until we have done it.
  2. Psychology is a descriptive science.

Psychological experiments can tell us about what we do, only when we presuppose the general applicability of their findings. This is true for any descriptive science. Philosophy demands more. A philosophical science like logic is categorical, in the sense of the second listed quotation, because it is what Collingwood will later call criteriological. I go on to discuss criteriological sciences as such in “A New Kind of Science,” but not here.

Here I suggest examples of not knowing where one’s life is going. A simpler example would be making art. By the account of The Principles of Art (1938), this is something we do all the time, as for example when we utter a new sentence. We do not know what the sentence is going to be, until it is said. On the other hand, we do somehow guide its utterance. See the quotation about painting at the end of “Freedom.

Collingwood discusses categorical thinking for the sake of explaining the Ontological Proof, which I go on to analyze myself in later articles. Meanwhile, the present essay ends with a look at Graham Priest’s dismissive treatment of the Proof.


The original purpose of this article is to record a passage in The Idea of History of R.G. Collingwood (1889–1943). I bought and read this book in 2001. I was looking back at it recently, because I was reading Herodotus, and I wanted to see again what Collingwood had to say about him and other ancient historians.

The passage that I want to talk about reminded me of some psychological experiments whose conclusions can be overblown. Writing before those experiments, Collingwood shows that the similar conclusions can be drawn, in more useful form, without the pretence of a scientific experiment.

Continue reading