Ren
Seeker at heart
- MBTI
- INFJ
- Enneagram
- 146
This guy is probably the greatest philosopher in history.
On what basis?
Not a rhetorical question, just genuinely wondering what standards you have in mind.
He's pretty gut.
This guy is probably the greatest philosopher in history.
Wittgenstein wrote a long-ass book to basically say, maybe there's a God. Lots of stuff about language, logic. I just don't understand why he did anything.
I sure can't wait to get back to this in a couple of weeks.
I remember browsing through Tractatus about a year ago and I immediately saw some parallels, but I can't find anything now. That was also when I was in the middle of reading BGE, so the connections would have been fresher.
I don't know Pin, Camus has that sort of wistful longing but seems to me that Nietzsche was rather one of the most hopeful ones. For all his condemnations and contempt towards the state of humanity, he cared A LOT. More importantly, he was trying to bring joy back into this life instead of relegating it to the afterlife.I think they're more hopeful than Nietzsche, Camus, and Sartre.
What I will say is this, Camus is the most hopeful and pleasant to read of the three when he writes about playing on the beach (hard to find that essay).
When I read Aristotle, I can clearly follow the progression to Aquinas on the topic of virtue ethics, theism, and natural law.On what basis?
Not a rhetorical question, just genuinely wondering what standards you have in mind.
He's pretty gut.
Yeah, but it takes like 5 hours to read man. It's written so awkwardly.Tractatus is 75 pages long.
@Ren
But yeah, I'll go back and try to understand Wittgenstein's metaphysical view because my sense was that he was rehashing much of Plato.
Yeah, but it takes like 5 hours to read man. It's written so awkwardly.
"It is foolish, generally speaking, for a philosopher to set fire to another philosopher in Smithfield Market because they do not agree in their theory of the universe. That was done very frequently in the last decadence of the Middle Ages, and it failed altogether in its object. But there is one thing that is infinitely more absurd and unpractical than burning a man for his philosophy. This is the habit of saying that his philosophy does not matter, and this is done universally in the twentieth century, in the decadence of the great revolutionary period. General theories are everywhere contemned; the doctrine of the Rights of Man is dismissed with the doctrine of the Fall of Man. Atheism itself is too theological for us to-day. Revolution itself is too much of a system; liberty itself is too much of a restraint. We will have no generalizations. Mr. Bernard Shaw has put the view in a perfect epigram: "The golden rule is that there is no golden rule." We are more and more to discuss details in art, politics, literature. A man's opinion on tramcars matters; his opinion on Botticelli matters; his opinion on all things does not matter. He may turn over and explore a million objects, but he must not find that strange object, the universe; for if he does he will have a religion,and be lost. Everything matters--except everything."
"When everything about a people is for the time growing weak and ineffective, it begins to talk about efficiency. So it is that when a man's body is a wreck he begins, for the first time, to talk about health. Vigorous organisms talk not about their processes, but about their aims. There cannot be any better proof of the physical efficiency of a man than that he talks cheerfully of a journey to the end of the world. And there cannot be any better proof of the practical efficiency of a nation than that it talks constantly of a journey to the end of the world, a journey to the Judgment Day and the New Jerusalem. There can be no stronger sign of a coarse material health than the tendency to run after high and wild ideals; it is in the first exuberance of infancy that we cry for the moon. None of the strong men in the strong ages would have understood what you meant by working for efficiency. Hildebrand would have said that he was working not for efficiency, but for the Catholic Church. Danton would have said that he was working not for efficiency, but for liberty, equality, and fraternity. Even if the ideal of such men were simply the ideal of kicking a man downstairs, they thought of the end like men, not of the process like paralytics. They did not say, "Efficiently elevating my right leg, using, you will notice, the muscles of the thigh and calf, which are in excellent order, I--" Their feeling was quite different. They were so filled with the beautiful vision of the man lying flat at the foot of the staircase that in that ecstasy the rest followed in a flash. In practice, the habit of generalizing and idealizing did not by any means mean worldly weakness. The time of big theories was the time of big results. In the era of sentiment and fine words, at the end of the eighteenth century, men were really robust and effective. The sentimentalists conquered Napoleon. The cynics could not catch De Wet. A hundred years ago our affairs for good or evil were wielded triumphantly by rhetoricians. Now our affairs are hopelessly muddled by strong, silent men. And just as this repudiation of big words and big visions has brought forth a race of small men in politics, so it has brought forth a race of small men in the arts. Our modern politicians claim the colossal license of Caesar and the Superman, claim that they are too practical to be pure and too patriotic to be moral; but the upshot of it all is that a mediocrity is Chancellor of the Exchequer."
Every one of the popular modern phrases and ideals is a dodge in order to shirk the problem of what is good. We are fond of talking about "liberty"; that, as we talk of it, is a dodge to avoid discussing what is good. We are fond of talking about "progress"; that is a dodge to avoid discussing what is good. We are fond of talking about "education"; that is a dodge to avoid discussing what is good. The modern man says, "Let us leave all these arbitrary standards and embrace liberty." This is, logically rendered, "Let us not decide what is good, but let it be considered good not to decide it." He says, "Away with your old moral formulae; I am for progress." This, logically stated, means, "Let us not settle what is good; but let us settle whether we are getting more of it." He says, "Neither in religion nor morality, my friend, lie the hopes of the race, but in education." This, clearly expressed, means, "We cannot decide what is good, but let us give it to our children."
This guy is probably the greatest philosopher in history.
@Ren, you recommended me History of Western philosophy, but I must say I really dislike this Russel guy.
There's too much judging going on in this book. I find his approach very superficial and counter productive. Like 15 pages per philosopher, and for a lot of them he basically says that in they are 'overrated' or 'wrong'.
Do you have examples?
It's ineffective but often necessary. When you spend years pondering something abstract in order to understand it, you have to synthesize large amounts of information to produce more digestible truths. But the communication of these truths to others is not commensurable with the form in which they exist within yourself, because it's impossible to retain all those turning points that led you to your current conclusion - the whole process of learning and understanding is about simplification.If I learned anything over the years, it's that judging a thing is easier than understanding it from the correct point of view (not from your perspective).
We all have opinions, but it's not helpful to just drop your opinions as fixed thing before someone else. Our opinions/conclusions are part of the process of education and were derived (hopefully) from laborious studying and reflection. Just presenting the conclusion of this process, without the process itself, is ineffective.
It's like learning a subject from Wikipedia. You get only conclusions, but not the process.
Anyway, this is off topic. Please continue with your discussions...