Requirements for Social Progress

It has been the purpose of these lectures to analyse the reactions of science in forming that background of instinctive ideas which control the activities of successive generations. Such a background takes the form of a certain vague philosophy as to the last word about things, when all is said. The three centuries, which form the epoch of modern science, have revolved round the ideas of God, mind, matter, and also of space and time in their characters of expressing simple location for matter. Philosophy has on the whole emphasised mind, and has thus been out of touch with science during the two latter centuries. But it is creeping back into its old importance owing to the rise of psychology and its alliance with physiology. Also, this rehabilitation of philosophy has been facilitated by the recent breakdown of the seventeenth century settlement of the principles of physical science. But, until that collapse, science seated itself securely upon the concepts of matter, space, time, and latterly, of energy. Also there were arbitrary laws of nature determining locomotion. They were empirically observed, but for some obscure reason were known to be universal. Anyone who in practice or theory disregarded them was denounced with unsparing vigour. This position on the part of scientists was pure bluff, if one may credit them with believing their own statements. For their current philosophy completely failed to justify the assumption that the immediate knowledge inherent in any present occasion throws any light either on its past, or its future.

The purpose of these lectures has been to analyze how science helps form the background of instinctive ideas that guides successive generations. This background takes the form of a vague philosophy about the final truth of things, when all is said. The three centuries of modern science have revolved around the ideas of God, mind, and matter. They have also revolved around space and time as expressions of simple location for matter. Philosophy has generally emphasized mind. As a result, it has been out of touch with science during the last two centuries. But philosophy is gradually regaining its old importance because of the rise of psychology and its alliance with physiology. The recent breakdown of the seventeenth century settlement of the principles of physical science has also helped restore philosophy's importance. Until that collapse, however, science rested securely on the concepts of matter, space, time, and, more recently, energy. There were also arbitrary laws of nature that determined motion. These laws were observed empirically, but for some obscure reason they were known to be universal. Anyone who disregarded them in practice or theory was denounced with relentless vigor. This position of the scientists was pure bluff, if one can credit them with believing their own statements. For their prevailing philosophy completely failed to justify the assumption that the immediate knowledge inherent in any present occasion sheds any light on its past or its future.

I have also sketched an alternative philosophy of science in which organism takes the place of matter. For this purpose, the mind involved in the materialist theory dissolves into a function of organism. The psychological field then exhibits what an event is in itself. Our bodily event is an unusually complex type of organism and consequently includes cognition. Further, space and time, in their most concrete signification, become the locus of events. An organism is the realisation of a definite shape of value. The emergence of some actual value depends on limitation which excludes neutralising cross-lights. Thus an event is a matter of fact which by reason of its limitation is a value for itself; but by reason of its very nature it also requires the whole universe in order to be itself.

I have also outlined an alternative philosophy of science in which organism takes the place of matter. In this philosophy, the mind of materialist theory becomes a function of the organism. The psychological field then shows what an event is in itself. Our bodily event is an unusually complex kind of organism and therefore includes cognition. Space and time, in their most concrete sense, also become the setting for events. An organism is the realization of a definite form of value. For some actual value to emerge, there must be limits that exclude conflicting influences that would cancel it out. An event, then, is a matter of fact that has value for itself because of its limits. But by its very nature, an event also requires the whole universe to be itself.

Importance depends on endurance. Endurance is the retention through time of an achievement of value. What endures is identity of pattern, self-inherited. Endurance requires the favourable environment. The whole of science revolves round this question of enduring organisms.

Importance depends on endurance. Endurance is the preservation of something valuable achieved over time. What endures is the same pattern, inherited from itself. Endurance requires a favorable environment. All of science revolves around this question of enduring organisms.

The general influence of science at the present moment can be analysed under the headings: General Conceptions Respecting the Universe, Technological Applications, Professionalism in Knowledge, Influence of Biological Doctrines on the Motives of Conduct. I have endeavoured in the preceding lectures to give a glimpse of these points. It lies within the scope of this concluding lecture to consider the reaction of science upon some problems confronting civilised societies.

The general influence of science today can be considered under several headings. These are general ideas about the universe, technological applications, professionalism in knowledge, and the influence of biological ideas on motives for conduct. In the preceding lectures, I have tried to give a glimpse of these topics. In this concluding lecture, I will consider how science affects some problems facing civilized societies.

The general conceptions introduced by science into modern thought cannot be separated from the philosophical situation as expressed by Descartes. I mean the assumption of bodies and minds as independent individual substances, each existing in its own right apart from any necessary reference to each other. Such a conception was very concordant with the individualism which had issued from the moral discipline of the Middle Ages. But, though the easy reception of the idea is thus explained, the derivation in itself rests upon a confusion, very natural but none the less unfortunate. The moral discipline had emphasized the intrinsic value of the individual entity. This emphasis had put the notions of the individual and of its experiences into the foreground of thought. At this point the confusion commences. The emergent individual value of each entity is transformed into the independent substantial existence of each entity, which is a very different notion.

The general ideas that science introduced into modern thought cannot be separated from the philosophical view expressed by Descartes. I mean the assumption that bodies and minds are independent individual substances. Each exists in its own right, without any necessary reference to the other. This view was very much in keeping with the individualism that had emerged from the moral discipline of the Middle Ages. This helps explain why the idea was readily accepted. But deriving the idea from that individualism rests on a confusion, natural enough but unfortunate nonetheless. The moral discipline had emphasized the intrinsic value of the individual entity. This emphasis had brought the individual and its experiences to the forefront of thought. At this point, the confusion begins. The emerging individual value of each entity is turned into the independent existence of each entity as a substance. That is a very different idea.

I do not mean to say that Descartes made this logical, or rather illogical, transition, in the form of explicit reasoning. Far from it. What he did, was first to concentrate upon his own conscious experiences, as being facts within the independent world of his own mentality. He was led to speculate in this way by the current emphasis upon the individual value of his total self. He implicitly transformed this emergent individual value, inherent in the very fact of his own reality, into a private world of passions, or modes, of independent substance.

I do not mean that Descartes made this logical, or rather illogical, transition through explicit reasoning. Far from it. He began by focusing on his own conscious experiences as facts within the independent world of his own mind. He was led to think this way by the prevailing emphasis on the individual value of his whole self. This individual value emerged from the very fact of his existence. Without stating it explicitly, he transformed that value into a private world of passions, or modes, of an independent substance.

Also the independence ascribed to bodily substances carried them away from the realm of values altogether. They degenerated into a mechanism entirely valueless, except as suggestive of an external ingenuity. The heavens had lost the glory of God. This state of mind is illustrated in the recoil of Protestantism from aesthetic effects dependent upon a material medium. It was taken to lead to an ascription of value to what is in itself valueless. This recoil was already in full strength antecedently to Descartes. Accordingly, the Cartesian scientific doctrine of bits of matter, bare of intrinsic value, was merely a formulation, in explicit terms, of a doctrine which was current before its entrance into scientific thought or Cartesian philosophy. Probably this doctrine was latent in the scholastic philosophy, but it did not lead to its consequences till it met with the mentality of northern Europe in the sixteenth century. But science, as equipped by Descartes, gave stability and intellectual status to a point of view which has had very mixed effects upon the moral presuppositions of modern communities. Its good effects arose from its efficiency as a method for scientific researches within those limited regions which were then best suited for exploration. The result was a general clearing of the European mind away from the stains left upon it by the hysteria of remote barbaric ages. This was all to the good, and was most completely exemplified in the eighteenth century.

Also, the independence attributed to material substances removed them entirely from the realm of values. They became a mechanism with no value at all, except as evidence of ingenuity outside itself. The heavens had lost the glory of God. This outlook can be seen in Protestantism’s rejection of aesthetic effects that depended on a material medium. Such effects were thought to give value to something that was itself valueless. This rejection was already in full force before Descartes. Thus, the Cartesian scientific view of bits of matter without intrinsic value simply stated explicitly a view that already existed. It was current before it entered scientific thought or Cartesian philosophy. The view was probably latent in scholastic philosophy, but it did not lead to its consequences until it encountered the mentality of northern Europe in the sixteenth century. But science, as shaped by Descartes, gave stability and intellectual standing to this point of view. It has had very mixed effects on the moral assumptions of modern communities. Its good effects came from its effectiveness as a method of scientific research in the limited areas then best suited to exploration. As a result, the European mind was largely cleared of the stains left by the hysteria of distant barbaric ages. This was entirely for the good, and was most fully evident in the eighteenth century.

But in the nineteenth century, when society was undergoing transformation into the manufacturing system, the bad effects of these doctrines have been very fatal. The doctrine of minds, as independent substances, leads directly not merely to private worlds of experience, but also to private worlds of morals. The moral intuitions can be held to apply only to the strictly private world of psychological experience. Accordingly, self-respect, and the making the most of your own individual opportunities, together constituted the efficient morality of the leaders among the industrialists of that period. The western world is now suffering from the limited moral outlook of the three previous generations.

But in the nineteenth century, society was changing into a manufacturing system, and these doctrines had disastrous effects. The doctrine that minds are independent substances leads directly not only to private worlds of experience, but also to private worlds of morality. Moral intuitions can be seen as applying only to the strictly private world of psychological experience. As a result, the leading industrialists of the period based their practical morality on self-respect and making the most of their own individual opportunities. The Western world is now suffering from the limited moral outlook of the previous three generations.

Also the assumption of the bare valuelessness of mere matter led to a lack of reverence in the treatment of natural or artistic beauty. Just when the urbanisation of the western world was entering upon its state of rapid development, and when the most delicate, anxious consideration of the aesthetic qualities of the new material environment was requisite, the doctrine of the irrelevance of such ideas was at its height. In the most advanced industrial countries, art was treated as a frivolity. A striking example of this state of mind in the middle of the nineteenth century is to be seen in London where the marvellous beauty of the estuary of the Thames, as it curves through the city, is wantonly defaced by the Charing Cross railway bridge, constructed apart from any reference to aesthetic values.

The belief that matter alone had no value also led people to treat natural and artistic beauty without reverence. Western cities were just beginning to grow rapidly. At that moment, the beauty of the new physical surroundings needed the most careful and attentive consideration. Yet the belief that such concerns were irrelevant was at its height. In the most advanced industrial countries, art was treated as a frivolity. London offers a striking example of this attitude in the middle of the nineteenth century. The Thames estuary curves through the city with marvelous beauty. Yet the Charing Cross railway bridge needlessly disfigures it. The bridge was built without any regard for beauty.

The two evils are: one, the ignoration of the true relation of each organism to its environment; and the other, the habit of ignoring the intrinsic worth of the environment which must be allowed its weight in any consideration of final ends.

There are two evils. The first is ignoring the true relationship between each organism and its environment. The second is the habit of ignoring the environment’s intrinsic worth. That worth must be given due weight whenever we consider our ultimate goals.

Another great fact confronting the modern world is the discovery of the method of training professionals, who specialise in particular regions of thought and thereby progressively add to the sum of knowledge within their respective limitations of subject. In consequence of the success of this professionalising of knowledge, there are two points to be kept in mind, which differentiate our present age from the past. In the first place, the rate of progress is such that an individual human being, of ordinary length of life, will be called upon to face novel situations which find no parallel in his past. The fixed person for the fixed duties, who in older societies was such a godsend, in the future will be a public danger. In the second place, the modern professionalism in knowledge works in the opposite direction so far as the intellectual sphere is concerned. The modern chemist is likely to be weak in zoology, weaker still in his general knowledge of the Elizabethan drama, and completely ignorant of the principles of rhythm in English versification. It is probably safe to ignore his knowledge of ancient history. Of course I am speaking of general tendencies; for chemists are no worse than engineers, or mathematicians, or classical scholars. Effective knowledge is professionalised knowledge, supported by a restricted acquaintance with useful subjects subservient to it.

Another great fact facing the modern world is the discovery of how to train professionals. They specialize in particular fields of thought and gradually add to the total of knowledge within their respective fields. Because this professionalization of knowledge has succeeded, we should keep two points in mind. They distinguish our present age from the past. First, progress is now so rapid that someone living an ordinary lifespan will face new situations unlike anything in their past. In older societies, a person set in their ways and suited to fixed duties was a godsend. In the future, such a person will be a public danger. Second, modern professional specialization works in the opposite direction in the intellectual sphere. A modern chemist is likely to know little about zoology, still less about Elizabethan drama, and nothing about the principles of rhythm in English verse. It is probably safe to disregard what the chemist knows about ancient history. Of course, I am speaking of general tendencies. Chemists are no worse than engineers, mathematicians, or classical scholars. Effective knowledge is specialized knowledge, supported by limited familiarity with useful subjects that serve the specialty.

This situation has its dangers. It produces minds in a groove. Each profession makes progress, but it is progress in its own groove. Now to be mentally in a groove is to live in contemplating a given set of abstractions. The groove prevents straying across country, and the abstraction abstracts from something to which no further attention is paid. But there is no groove of abstractions which is adequate for the comprehension of human life. Thus in the modern world, the celibacy of the medieval learned class has been replaced by a celibacy of the intellect which is divorced from the concrete contemplation of the complete facts. Of course, no one is merely a mathematician, or merely a lawyer. People have lives outside their professions or their businesses. But the point is the restraint of serious thought within a groove. The remainder of life is treated superficially, with the imperfect categories of thought derived from one profession.

This situation has its dangers. It produces minds stuck in a groove. Each profession makes progress, but only within its own groove. To be mentally stuck in a groove is to live by contemplating a fixed set of abstractions. The groove keeps the mind from wandering across the wider landscape. An abstraction also leaves something out, and no further attention is paid to what it leaves out. But no single groove of abstractions is enough to understand human life. In the modern world, the celibacy of the medieval learned class has been replaced by a celibacy of the intellect. The intellect is divorced from considering the full, concrete facts. Of course, no one is merely a mathematician or merely a lawyer. People have lives outside their professions or businesses. But the point is that serious thought is confined to a groove. The rest of life is treated superficially, using the imperfect categories of thought drawn from one profession.

The dangers arising from this aspect of professionalism are great, particularly in our democratic societies. The directive force of reason is weakened. The leading intellects lack balance. They see this set of circumstances, or that set; but not both sets together. The task of coördination is left to those who lack either the force or the character to succeed in some definite career. In short, the specialised functions of the community are performed better and more progressively, but the generalised direction lacks vision. The progressiveness in detail only adds to the danger produced by the feebleness of coördination.

The dangers of this aspect of professionalism are great, particularly in democratic societies. The power of reason to guide us is weakened. The leading minds lack balance. They see one set of circumstances or another, but not both together. The task of coordination is left to people who lack either the ability or the character to succeed in a particular career. In short, the community’s specialized tasks are performed better and with greater progress, but its overall direction lacks vision. Progress in individual areas only increases the danger caused by weak coordination.

This criticism of modern life applies throughout, in whatever sense you construe the meaning of a community. It holds if you apply it to a nation, a city, a district, an institution, a family, or even to an individual. There is a development of particular abstractions, and a contraction of concrete appreciation. The whole is lost in one of its aspects. It is not necessary for my point that I should maintain that our directive wisdom, either as individuals or as communities, is less now than in the past. Perhaps it has slightly improved. But the novel pace of progress requires a greater force of direction if disasters are to be avoided. The point is that the discoveries of the nineteenth century were in the direction of professionalism, so that we are left with no expansion of wisdom and with greater need of it.

This criticism of modern life applies no matter how you define a community. It applies to a nation, a city, a district, an institution, a family, or even an individual. We develop particular abstractions, but our appreciation of concrete reality shrinks. We lose sight of the whole in one of its aspects. I do not need to claim that our wisdom in guiding our lives and communities is less than in the past. Perhaps it has improved slightly. But the new pace of progress demands stronger guidance if we are to avoid disasters. The discoveries of the nineteenth century encouraged professional specialization. As a result, we have no greater wisdom, but a greater need for it.

Wisdom is the fruit of a balanced development. It is this balanced growth of individuality which it should be the aim of education to secure. The most useful discoveries for the immediate future would concern the furtherance of this aim without detriment to the necessary intellectual professionalism.

Wisdom comes from balanced development. Education should aim to develop each person's individuality in a balanced way. The most useful discoveries for the immediate future would help achieve this aim without harming the necessary development of intellectual expertise.

My own criticism of our traditional educational methods is that they are far too much occupied with intellectual analysis, and with the acquirement of formularised information. What I mean is, that we neglect to strengthen habits of concrete appreciation of the individual facts in their full interplay of emergent values, and that we merely emphasise abstract formulations which ignore this aspect of the interplay of diverse values.

My criticism of traditional educational methods is that they focus far too much on intellectual analysis and learning information in formulaic form. We neglect to develop habits of appreciating individual facts concretely, with all the values that emerge from their interaction. Instead, we emphasize abstract formulations that ignore this interplay of different values.

In every country the problem of the balance of the general and specialist education is under consideration. I cannot speak with first-hand knowledge of any country but my own. I know that there, among practical educationalists, there is considerable dissatisfaction with the existing practice. Also, the adaptation of the whole system to the needs of a democratic community is very far from being solved. I do not think that the secret of the solution lies in terms of the antithesis between thoroughness in special knowledge and general knowledge of a slighter character. The make-weight which balances the thoroughness of the specialist intellectual training should be of a radically different kind from purely intellectual analytical knowledge. At present our education combines a thorough study of a few abstractions, with a slighter study of a larger number of abstractions. We are too exclusively bookish in our scholastic routine. The general training should aim at eliciting our concrete apprehensions, and should satisfy the itch of youth to be doing something. There should be some analysis even here, but only just enough to illustrate the ways of thinking in diverse spheres. In the Garden of Eden Adam saw the animals before he named them: in the traditional system, children named the animals before they saw them.

Every country is considering how to balance general education with specialized education. I have firsthand knowledge only of my own country. I know that many practicing educators there are dissatisfied with current practice. The problem of adapting the whole system to the needs of a democratic community is also far from solved. I do not think the solution lies in choosing between thorough specialized knowledge and a more limited general knowledge. What balances thorough specialized intellectual training should be radically different from purely intellectual, analytical knowledge. At present, our education combines a thorough study of a few abstractions with a more limited study of many more. Our school routine relies too heavily on books. General education should draw out our understanding of concrete things and satisfy young people’s urge to do something. Some analysis should be included, but only enough to illustrate ways of thinking in different fields. In the Garden of Eden, Adam saw the animals before he named them. In the traditional system, children named the animals before they saw them.

There is no easy single solution of the practical difficulties of education. We can, however, guide ourselves by a certain simplicity in its general theory. The student should concentrate within a limited field. Such concentration should include all practical and intellectual acquirements requisite for that concentration. This is the ordinary procedure; and, in respect to it, I should be inclined even to increase the facilities for concentration rather than to diminish them. With the concentration there are associated certain subsidiary studies, such as languages for science. Such a scheme of professional training should be directed to a clear end congenial to the student. It is not necessary to elaborate the qualifications of these statements. Such a training must, of course, have the width requisite for its end. But its design should not be complicated by the consideration of other ends. This professional training can only touch one side of education. Its centre of gravity lies in the intellect, and its chief tool is the printed book. The centre of gravity of the other side of training should lie in intuition without an analytical divorce from the total environment. Its object is immediate apprehension with the minimum of eviscerating analysis. The type of generality, which above all is wanted, is the appreciation of variety of value. I mean an aesthetic growth. There is something between the gross specialised values of the mere practical man, and the thin specialised values of the mere scholar. Both types have missed something; and if you add together the two sets of values, you do not obtain the missing elements. What is wanted is an appreciation of the infinite variety of vivid values achieved by an organism in its proper environment. When you understand all about the sun and all about the atmosphere and all about the rotation of the earth, you may still miss the radiance of the sunset. There is no substitute for the direct perception of the concrete achievement of a thing in its actuality. We want concrete fact with a high light thrown on what is relevant to its preciousness.

There is no single, easy solution to the practical difficulties of education. But a simple general theory can guide us. The student should concentrate on a limited field. This concentration should include all the practical and intellectual skills and knowledge it requires. This is the usual approach. I would be inclined to provide even more opportunities for concentration, not fewer. Alongside this concentration, there are related studies, such as languages for science. This kind of professional training should have a clear goal suited to the student. There is no need to spell out all the qualifications to these statements. The training must, of course, be broad enough to serve its goal. But its design should not be complicated by considering other goals. This professional training can address only one side of education. Its focus is on the intellect, and its chief tool is the printed book. The other side of education should focus on intuition, without separating it through analysis from its full surroundings. Its aim is immediate understanding, with as little as possible of the kind of analysis that strips things of their substance. Above all, the broad understanding we need is an appreciation of the variety of value. I mean growth in aesthetic appreciation. There is something between the coarse, specialized values of the purely practical person and the thin, specialized values of the pure scholar. Both kinds of people have missed something. Even if you add their two sets of values together, you do not get what is missing. What we need is an appreciation of the endless variety of vivid values an organism achieves in its proper environment. You may understand everything about the sun, the atmosphere, and the earth's rotation. Yet you may still miss the radiance of the sunset. Nothing can replace directly perceiving what a thing achieves in its actual, concrete existence. We need concrete fact, with a bright light cast on what makes it precious.

What I mean is art and aesthetic education. It is, however, art in such a general sense of the term that I hardly like to call it by that name. Art is a special example. What we want is to draw out habits of aesthetic apprehension. According to the metaphysical doctrine which I have been developing, to do so is to increase the depth of individuality. The analysis of reality indicates the two factors, activity emerging into individualised aesthetic value. Also the emergent value is the measure of the individualisation of the activity. We must foster the creative initiative towards the maintenance of objective values. You will not obtain the apprehension without the initiative, or the initiative without the apprehension. As soon as you get towards the concrete, you cannot exclude action. Sensitiveness without impulse spells decadence, and impulse without sensitiveness spells brutality. I am using the word “sensitiveness” in its most general signification, so as to include apprehension of what lies beyond oneself; that is to say, sensitiveness to all the facts of the case. Thus “art” in the general sense which I require is any selection by which the concrete facts are so arranged as to elicit attention to particular values which are realisable by them. For example, the mere disposing of the human body and the eyesight so as to get a good view of a sunset is a simple form of artistic selection. The habit of art is the habit of enjoying vivid values.

What I mean is art and aesthetic education. But I mean art in such a broad sense that I hardly like to call it art. Art is a special example of what I mean. What we want is to develop habits of appreciating aesthetic value. According to the metaphysical theory I have been developing, doing so deepens individuality. An analysis of reality reveals two factors: activity emerging into individual aesthetic value. The value that emerges also measures how individual the activity is. We must encourage creative initiative to maintain objective values. You cannot develop appreciation without initiative, or initiative without appreciation. Once you move toward concrete things, you cannot leave out action. Sensitivity without an impulse to act means decadence, and an impulse to act without sensitivity means brutality. I am using “sensitivity” in its broadest sense. It includes awareness of what lies beyond oneself, or sensitivity to all the facts of the case. Thus “art,” in the broad sense I need, is any selection that arranges concrete facts to draw attention to particular values that can be realized through those facts. For example, simply positioning your body and directing your eyes to get a good view of a sunset is a simple form of artistic selection. The habit of art is the habit of enjoying vivid values.

But, in this sense, art concerns more than sunsets. A factory, with its machinery, its community of operatives, its social service to the general population, its dependence upon organising and designing genius, its potentialities as a source of wealth to the holders of its stock is an organism exhibiting a variety of vivid values. What we want to train is the habit of apprehending such an organism in its completeness. It is very arguable that the science of political economy, as studied in its first period after the death of Adam Smith (1790), did more harm than good. It destroyed many economic fallacies, and taught how to think about the economic revolution then in progress. But it riveted on men a certain set of abstractions which were disastrous in their influence on modern mentality. It de-humanised industry. This is only one example of a general danger inherent in modern science. Its methodological procedure is exclusive and intolerant, and rightly so. It fixes attention on a definite group of abstractions, neglects everything else, and elicits every scrap of information and theory which is relevant to what it has retained. This method is triumphant, provided that the abstractions are judicious. But, however triumphant, the triumph is within limits. The neglect of these limits leads to disastrous oversights. The anti-rationalism of science is partly justified, as a preservation of its useful methodology; it is partly mere irrational prejudice. Modern professionalism is the training of minds to conform to the methodology. The historical revolt of the seventeenth century, and the earlier reaction towards naturalism, were examples of transcending the abstractions which fascinated educated society in the Middle Ages. These early ages had an ideal of rationalism, but they failed in its pursuit. For they neglected to note that the methodology of reasoning requires the limitations involved in the abstract. Accordingly, the true rationalism must always transcend itself by recurrence to the concrete in search of inspiration. A self-satisfied rationalism is in effect a form of anti-rationalism. It means an arbitrary halt at a particular set of abstractions. This was the case with science.

But in this sense, art is about more than sunsets. A factory is an organism that displays a variety of vivid values. It has machinery, a community of workers, and a role in serving the general population. It depends on genius in organization and design. It also has the potential to create wealth for its stockholders. What we want to develop is the habit of seeing such an organism as a whole. There is a strong case that political economy did more harm than good in its first period after Adam Smith’s death (1790). It dispelled many economic fallacies and taught people how to think about the economic revolution then underway. But it also fixed certain abstractions in people’s minds, with disastrous effects on modern thinking. It dehumanized industry. This is just one example of a general danger inherent in modern science. Its method is exclusive and intolerant, and rightly so. It focuses on a specific group of abstractions and ignores everything else. It draws out every piece of information and theory relevant to what it has retained. This method is triumphant, provided the abstractions are well chosen. But however great the triumph, it has limits. Ignoring those limits leads to disastrous oversights. Science’s opposition to rationalism is partly justified, because it preserves science’s useful method. But it is also partly mere irrational prejudice. Modern professional training teaches minds to conform to that method. The historical revolt of the seventeenth century and the earlier turn toward naturalism both went beyond the abstractions that fascinated educated society in the Middle Ages. Those earlier ages held rationalism as an ideal, but they failed to achieve it. They failed because they did not recognize that reasoning requires the limits involved in abstraction. True rationalism must therefore always go beyond itself by returning to the concrete for inspiration. A self-satisfied rationalism is, in effect, a form of opposition to rationalism. It means arbitrarily stopping at a particular set of abstractions. This was the case with science.

There are two principles inherent in the very nature of things, recurring in some particular embodiments whatever field we explore—the spirit of change, and the spirit of conservation. There can be nothing real without both. Mere change without conservation is a passage from nothing to nothing. Its final integration yields mere transient non-entity. Mere conservation without change cannot conserve. For after all, there is a flux of circumstance, and the freshness of being evaporates under mere repetition. The character of existent reality is composed of organisms enduring through the flux of things. The low type of organisms have achieved a self-identity dominating their whole physical life. Electrons, molecules, crystals, belong to this type. They exhibit a massive and complete sameness. In the higher types, where life appears, there is greater complexity. Thus, though there is a complex, enduring pattern, it has retreated into deeper recesses of the total fact. In a sense, the self-identity of a human being is more abstract than that of a crystal. It is the life of the spirit. It relates rather to the individualisation of the creative activity; so that the changing circumstances received from the environment, are differentiated from the living personality, and are thought of as forming its perceived field. In truth, the field of perception and the perceiving mind are abstractions which, in the concrete, combine into the successive bodily events. The psychological field, as restricted to sense-objects and passing emotions, is the minor permanence, barely rescued from the nonentity of mere change; and the mind is the major permanence, permeating that complete field, whose endurance is the living soul. But the soul would wither without fertilisation from its transient experiences. The secret of the higher organisms lies in their two grades of permanences. By this means the freshness of the environment is absorbed into the permanence of the soul. The changing environment is no longer, by reason of its variety, an enemy to the endurance of the organism. The pattern of the higher organism has retreated into the recesses of the individualised activity. It has become a uniform way of dealing with circumstances; and this way is only strengthened by having a proper variety of circumstances to deal with.

Two principles are built into the nature of things: the spirit of change and the spirit of conservation. Wherever we look, we find them embodied in particular forms. Nothing can be real without both. Change alone, without conservation, is a passage from nothing to nothing. In the end, it adds up to nothing more than a fleeting nonentity. Conservation alone, without change, cannot conserve. After all, circumstances are always changing, and the freshness of being evaporates through mere repetition. Existing reality consists of organisms that endure amid the flow of things. Lower types of organisms have achieved a self-identity that dominates their whole physical existence. Electrons, molecules, and crystals belong to this type. They display a massive and complete sameness. Higher types, in which life appears, are more complex. They have a complex, enduring pattern, but that pattern has retreated deeper into the whole of what they are. In one sense, a human being’s self-identity is more abstract than a crystal’s. It is the life of the spirit. It has more to do with how creative activity takes an individual form. Thus, the changing circumstances we receive from the environment are distinguished from the living personality. They are thought of as forming the field that the personality perceives. In truth, the field of perception and the perceiving mind are abstractions. In concrete reality, they combine in the succession of bodily events. The psychological field, limited to sense-objects and passing emotions, is the lesser form of permanence. It is barely rescued from the nonexistence of mere change. The mind is the greater form of permanence. It runs through the whole field, and its endurance is the living soul. But the soul would wither without nourishment from its passing experiences. The secret of higher organisms lies in these two degrees of permanence. Through them, the freshness of the environment is absorbed into the permanence of the soul. The changing environment, despite its variety, is no longer an enemy to the organism’s endurance. The pattern of the higher organism has retreated into the depths of its individual activity. It has become a consistent way of dealing with circumstances. And this way is only strengthened when the organism has a suitable variety of circumstances to deal with.

This fertilisation of the soul is the reason for the necessity of art. A static value, however serious and important, becomes unendurable by its appalling monotony of endurance. The soul cries aloud for release into change. It suffers the agonies of claustrophobia. The transitions of humour, wit, irreverence, play, sleep, and—above all—of art are necessary for it. Great art is the arrangement of the environment so as to provide for the soul vivid, but transient, values. Human beings require something which absorbs them for a time, something out of the routine which they can stare at. But you cannot subdivide life, except in the abstract analysis of thought. Accordingly, the great art is more than a transient refreshment. It is something which adds to the permanent richness of the soul’s self-attainment. It justifies itself both by its immediate enjoyment, and also by its discipline of the inmost being. Its discipline is not distinct from enjoyment, but by reason of it. It transforms the soul into the permanent realisation of values extending beyond its former self. This element of transition in art is shown by the restlessness exhibited in its history. An epoch gets saturated by the masterpieces of any one style. Something new must be discovered. The human being wanders on. Yet there is a balance in things. Mere change before the attainment of adequacy of achievement, either in quality or output, is destructive of greatness. But the importance of a living art, which moves on and yet leaves its permanent mark, can hardly be exaggerated.

This enrichment of the soul is why art is necessary. A value that never changes, however serious and important, becomes unbearable through its dreadful sameness. The soul cries out for the release of change. It suffers the agony of claustrophobia. The soul needs the changes brought by humor, wit, irreverence, play, sleep, and above all, art. Great art arranges our surroundings to give the soul vivid but fleeting values. People need something that absorbs them for a while, something outside their routine that they can gaze at. But we can divide life into separate parts only in abstract thought. So great art is more than a brief refreshment. It adds lasting richness to the soul’s fulfillment of itself. Art justifies itself both through the immediate pleasure it gives and through the way it disciplines our innermost being. This discipline is not separate from enjoyment. It comes about through enjoyment. Art transforms the soul, allowing it to realize values beyond those it knew before. This element of change in art can be seen in its restless history. An age becomes saturated with the masterpieces of any one style. Something new must be discovered. Human beings wander on. Yet there is a balance in things. Change for its own sake can destroy greatness if it comes before enough has been achieved in quality or quantity. But the importance of a living art that moves forward while leaving a lasting mark can hardly be exaggerated.

In regard to the aesthetic needs of civilised society the reactions of science have so far been unfortunate. Its materialistic basis has directed attention to things as opposed to values. The antithesis is a false one, if taken in a concrete sense. But it is valid at the abstract level of ordinary thought. This misplaced emphasis coalesced with the abstractions of political economy, which are in fact the abstractions in terms of which commercial affairs are carried on. Thus all thought concerned with social organisation expressed itself in terms of material things and of capital. Ultimate values were excluded. They were politely bowed to, and then handed over to the clergy to be kept for Sundays. A creed of competitive business morality was evolved, in some respects curiously high; but entirely devoid of consideration for the value of human life. The workmen were conceived as mere hands, drawn from the pool of labour. To God’s question, men gave the answer of Cain—“Am I my brother’s keeper?”; and they incurred Cain’s guilt. This was the atmosphere in which the industrial revolution was accomplished in England, and to a large extent elsewhere. The internal history of England during the last half century has been an endeavour slowly and painfully to undo the evils wrought in the first stage of the new epoch. It may be that civilisation will never recover from the bad climate which enveloped the introduction of machinery. This climate pervaded the whole commercial system of the progressive northern European races. It was partly the result of the aesthetic errors of Protestantism and partly the result of scientific materialism, and partly the result of the natural greed of mankind, and partly the result of the abstractions of political economy. An illustration of my point is to be found in Macaulay’s Essay criticising Southey’s Colloquies on Society. It was written in 1830. Now Macaulay was a very favourable example of men living at that date, or at any date. He had genius; he was kind-hearted, honourable, and a reformer. This is the extract:—“We are told, that our age has invented atrocities beyond the imagination of our fathers; that society has been brought into a state compared with which extermination would be a blessing; and all because the dwellings of cotton-spinners are naked and rectangular. Mr. Southey has found out a way he tells us, in which the effects of manufactures and agriculture may be compared. And what is this way? To stand on a hill, to look at a cottage and a factory, and to see which is the prettier.”

So far, science has had unfortunate effects on the aesthetic needs of civilized society. Its materialistic basis has directed attention to things rather than values. This opposition is false if taken in a concrete sense. But it holds at the abstract level of ordinary thought. This misplaced emphasis combined with the abstractions of political economy. In fact, these are the abstractions in terms of which business is conducted. As a result, all thinking about social organization was expressed in terms of material things and capital. Ultimate values were excluded. People bowed politely to them, then handed them over to the clergy for safekeeping on Sundays. A code of competitive business morality developed. In some respects it had curiously high standards, but it gave no consideration to the value of human life. Workers were seen as mere hands, drawn from the pool of labor. To God’s question, men gave Cain’s answer: “Am I my brother’s keeper?” And they incurred Cain’s guilt. This was the atmosphere in which the industrial revolution took place in England, and to a large extent elsewhere. For the last half century, England’s internal history has been a slow and painful effort to undo the evils caused during the first stage of the new era. Civilization may never recover from the bad climate that surrounded the introduction of machinery. This climate pervaded the whole commercial system of the progressive northern European races. It resulted partly from the aesthetic errors of Protestantism, partly from scientific materialism, partly from humanity’s natural greed, and partly from the abstractions of political economy. An example of my point can be found in Macaulay’s essay criticizing Southey’s Colloquies on Society. It was written in 1830. Macaulay was a very favorable example of the men living at that time, or at any time. He was a genius, kind-hearted, honorable, and a reformer. Here is the extract: “We are told that our age has invented atrocities beyond anything our fathers could imagine. We are told that society has been brought to a state where extermination would be a blessing by comparison. And all because cotton-spinners’ homes are bare and rectangular. Mr. Southey tells us he has found a way to compare the effects of manufacturing and agriculture. And what is this way? To stand on a hill, look at a cottage and a factory, and see which is prettier.”

Southey seems to have said many silly things in his book; but, so far as this extract is concerned, he could make a good case for himself if he returned to earth after the lapse of nearly a century. The evils of the early industrial system are now a commonplace of knowledge. The point which I am insisting on is the stone-blind eye with which even the best men of that time regarded the importance of aesthetics in a nation’s life. I do not believe that we have as yet nearly achieved the right estimate. A contributory cause, of substantial efficacy to produce this disastrous error, was the scientific creed that matter in motion is the one concrete reality in nature; so that aesthetic values form an adventitious, irrelevant addition.

Southey seems to have said many silly things in his book. But, as far as this extract goes, he could make a good case for himself if he returned to earth nearly a century later. The evils of the early industrial system are now common knowledge. My point is that even the best people of that time were completely blind to the importance of aesthetics in a nation’s life. I do not believe we have yet come close to judging that importance correctly. One significant cause of this disastrous error was the scientific belief that matter in motion is the only concrete reality in nature. According to that belief, aesthetic values are an accidental, irrelevant addition.

There is another side to this picture of the possibilities of decadence. At the present moment a discussion is raging as to the future of civilisation in the novel circumstances of rapid scientific and technological advance. The evils of the future have been diagnosed in various ways, the loss of religious faith, the malignant use of material power, the degradation attending a differential birth rate favouring the lower types of humanity, the suppression of aesthetic creativeness. Without doubt, these are all evils, dangerous and threatening. But they are not new. From the dawn of history, mankind has always been losing its religious faith, has always suffered from the malignant use of material power, has always suffered from the infertility of its best intellectual types, has always witnessed the periodical decadence of art. In the reign of the Egyptian king, Tutankhamen, there was raging a desperate religious struggle between Modernists and Fundamentalists; the cave pictures exhibit a phase of delicate aesthetic achievement as superseded by a period of comparative vulgarity; the religious leaders, the great thinkers, the great poets and authors, the whole clerical caste in the Middle Ages, have been notably infertile; finally, if we attend to what actually has happened in the past, and disregard romantic visions of democracies, aristocracies, kings, generals, armies, and merchants, material power has generally been wielded with blindness, obstinacy and selfishness, often with brutal malignancy. And yet, mankind has progressed. Even if you take a tiny oasis of peculiar excellence, the type of modern man who would have most chance of happiness in ancient Greece at its best period is probably (as now) an average professional heavy-weight boxer, and not an average Greek scholar from Oxford or Germany. Indeed, the main use of the Oxford scholar would have been his capability of writing an ode in glorification of the boxer. Nothing does more harm in unnerving men for their duties in the present, than the attention devoted to the points of excellence in the past as compared with the average failure of the present day.

There is another side to the possibility of decline. Today, a fierce debate is raging about the future of civilization amid rapid scientific and technological advances. People have identified the dangers ahead in various ways. They include the loss of religious faith, the malicious use of material power, and a decline caused by higher birth rates among what they consider lower types of humanity. They also include the suppression of artistic creativity. Without doubt, all these are dangerous and threatening evils. But they are not new. Since the dawn of history, humanity has always been losing its religious faith. It has always suffered from the malicious use of material power and from low birth rates among its best intellectual types. It has always seen the arts decline from time to time. During the reign of the Egyptian king Tutankhamen, a desperate religious struggle raged between Modernists and Fundamentalists. Cave paintings show a period of delicate artistic achievement followed by one of comparative vulgarity. Religious leaders, great thinkers, great poets and authors, and the whole clerical caste in the Middle Ages have had notably few children. Finally, consider what has actually happened in the past. Set aside romantic visions of democracies, aristocracies, kings, generals, armies, and merchants. Material power has generally been wielded blindly, stubbornly, and selfishly, often with brutal malice. And yet, humanity has progressed. Consider even a tiny oasis of exceptional excellence, ancient Greece at its best. The modern person most likely to be happy there would probably be an average professional heavyweight boxer, just as today. It would not be an average Greek scholar from Oxford or Germany. Indeed, the Oxford scholar's main use would have been his ability to write an ode glorifying the boxer. Nothing does more to weaken people's resolve to meet their duties in the present than comparing the best of the past with the average failures of today.

But, after all, there have been real periods of decadence; and at the present time, as at other epochs, society is decaying, and there is need for preservative action. Professionals are not new to the world. But in the past, professionals have formed unprogressive castes. The point is that professionalism has now been mated with progress. The world is now faced with a self-evolving system, which it cannot stop. There are dangers and advantages in this situation. It is obvious that the gain in material power affords opportunity for social betterment. If mankind can rise to the occasion, there lies in front a golden age of beneficent creativeness. But material power in itself is ethically neutral. It can equally well work in the wrong direction. The problem is not how to produce great men, but how to produce great societies. The great society will put up the men for the occasions. The materialistic philosophy emphasised the given quantity of material, and thence derivatively the given nature of the environment. It thus operated most unfortunately upon the social conscience of mankind. For it directed almost exclusive attention to the aspect of struggle for existence in a fixed environment. To a large extent the environment is fixed, and to this extent there is a struggle for existence. It is folly to look at the universe through rose-tinted spectacles. We must admit the struggle. The question is, who is to be eliminated. In so far as we are educators, we have to have clear ideas upon that point; for it settles the type to be produced and the practical ethics to be inculcated.

But there have, after all, been real periods of decline. Today, as in other eras, society is decaying, and action is needed to preserve it. Professionals are not new to the world. But in the past, they formed castes that did not advance. The point is that professionalism is now joined with progress. The world now faces a self-evolving system that it cannot stop. This situation brings dangers as well as advantages. Clearly, increased material power offers opportunities to improve society. If humanity can rise to the occasion, a golden age of beneficial creativity lies ahead. But material power is ethically neutral in itself. It can just as easily work in the wrong direction. The problem is not how to produce great people, but how to produce great societies. A great society will produce the people needed for each occasion. Materialist philosophy emphasized the fixed quantity of material and, as a consequence, the fixed nature of the environment. This had a most unfortunate effect on humanity’s social conscience. It focused attention almost exclusively on the struggle for existence in a fixed environment. To a large extent, the environment is fixed, and to that extent there is a struggle for existence. It is foolish to look at the universe through rose-tinted glasses. We must admit that there is a struggle. The question is who is to be eliminated. As educators, we must be clear on that point. For it determines the kind of person we aim to produce and the practical ethics we teach.

But during the last three generations, the exclusive direction of attention to this aspect of things has been a disaster of the first magnitude. The watchwords of the nineteenth century have been, struggle for existence, competition, class warfare, commercial antagonism between nations, military warfare. The struggle for existence has been construed into the gospel of hate. The full conclusion to be drawn from a philosophy of evolution is fortunately of a more balanced character. Successful organisms modify their environment. Those organisms are successful which modify their environments so as to assist each other. This law is exemplified in nature on a vast scale. For example, the North American Indians accepted their environment, with the result that a scanty population barely succeeded in maintaining themselves over the whole continent. The European races when they arrived in the same continent pursued an opposite policy. They at once coöperated in modifying their environment. The result is that a population more than twenty times that of the Indian population now occupies the same territory, and the continent is not yet full. Again, there are associations of different species which mutually coöperate. This differentiation of species is exhibited in the simplest physical entities, such as the association between electrons and positive nuclei, and in the whole realm of animate nature. The trees in a Brazilian forest depend upon the association of various species of organisms, each of which is mutually dependent on the other species. A single tree by itself is dependent upon all the adverse chances of shifting circumstances. The wind stunts it: the variations in temperature check its foliage: the rains denude its soil: its leaves are blown away and are lost for the purpose of fertilisation. You may obtain individual specimens of fine trees either in exceptional circumstances, or where human cultivation has intervened. But in nature the normal way in which trees flourish is by their association in a forest. Each tree may lose something of its individual perfection of growth, but they mutually assist each other in preserving the conditions for survival. The soil is preserved and shaded; and the microbes necessary for its fertility are neither scorched, nor frozen, nor washed away. A forest is the triumph of the organisation of mutually dependent species. Further a species of microbes which kills the forest, also exterminates itself. Again the two sexes exhibit the same advantage of differentiation. In the history of the world, the prize has not gone to those species which specialised in methods of violence, or even in defensive armour. In fact, nature began with producing animals encased in hard shells for defence against the ills of life. It also experimented in size. But smaller animals, without external armour, warm-blooded, sensitive, and alert, have cleared these monsters off the face of the earth. Also, the lions and tigers are not the successful species. There is something in the ready use of force which defeats its own object. Its main defect is that it bars coöperation. Every organism requires an environment of friends, partly to shield it from violent changes, and partly to supply it with its wants. The Gospel of Force is incompatible with a social life. By force, I mean antagonism in its most general sense.

But for the last three generations, focusing only on this aspect of things has been a disaster of the first magnitude. The watchwords of the nineteenth century were struggle for existence, competition, class warfare, commercial antagonism between nations, and military warfare. The struggle for existence has been turned into a gospel of hate. Fortunately, the full conclusion we should draw from a philosophy of evolution is more balanced. Successful organisms modify their environment. The organisms that succeed are those that modify their environments to help one another. This law can be seen throughout nature on a vast scale. For example, the North American Indians accepted their environment. As a result, a small population barely managed to support itself across the whole continent. When the European races arrived on the same continent, they followed the opposite policy. They immediately cooperated to modify their environment. As a result, a population more than twenty times the Indian population now occupies the same territory. And the continent is not yet full. There are also associations of different species that cooperate with one another. This differentiation of species appears in the simplest physical entities, such as the association between electrons and positive nuclei. It also appears throughout the living world. The trees in a Brazilian forest depend on an association of various species of organisms. Each species depends on the others. A tree standing alone is exposed to all the harmful chances of changing circumstances. The wind stunts it. Changes in temperature check the growth of its foliage. Rain strips away its soil. Its leaves blow away and are lost as a source of fertilizer. You may find individual examples of fine trees in exceptional circumstances or where humans have cultivated them. But in nature, trees normally flourish together in a forest. Each tree may lose some of its individual perfection of growth. But the trees help one another preserve the conditions they need to survive. The soil is preserved and shaded. The microbes needed for its fertility are not scorched, frozen, or washed away. A forest is a triumph of the organization of mutually dependent species. What is more, a species of microbes that kills the forest also wipes itself out. The two sexes also show the same advantage of differentiation. In the history of the world, the prize has not gone to species that specialized in violence or even defensive armor. In fact, nature began by producing animals enclosed in hard shells for protection against the troubles of life. It also experimented with size. But smaller animals, without external armor, warm-blooded, sensitive, and alert, have cleared these monsters from the earth. Nor are lions and tigers the successful species. There is something about readily using force that defeats its own purpose. Its main defect is that it prevents cooperation. Every organism needs an environment of friends. They partly protect it from violent changes and partly supply its needs. The Gospel of Force is incompatible with social life. By force, I mean antagonism in its most general sense.

Almost equally dangerous is the Gospel of Uniformity. The differences between the nations and races of mankind are required to preserve the conditions under which higher development is possible. One main factor in the upward trend of animal life has been the power of wandering. Perhaps this is why the armour-plated monsters fared badly. They could not wander. Animals wander into new conditions. They have to adapt themselves or die. Mankind has wandered from the trees to the plains, from the plains to the seacoast, from climate to climate, from continent to continent, and from habit of life to habit of life. When man ceases to wander, he will cease to ascend in the scale of being. Physical wandering is still important, but greater still is the power of man’s spiritual adventures—adventures of thought, adventures of passionate feeling, adventures of aesthetic experience. A diversification among human communities is essential for the provision of the incentive and material for the Odyssey of the human spirit. Other nations of different habits are not enemies: they are godsends. Men require of their neighbours something sufficiently akin to be understood, something sufficiently different to provoke attention, and something great enough to command admiration. We must not expect, however, all the virtues. We should even be satisfied if there is something odd enough to be interesting.

Almost equally dangerous is the Gospel of Uniformity. Differences among the nations and races of humanity are necessary. They preserve the conditions that make higher development possible. The ability to wander has been a major factor in the advancement of animal life. Perhaps this is why the armor-plated monsters did poorly. They could not wander. Animals wander into new conditions. They must adapt or die. Humanity has wandered from trees to plains, from plains to seacoasts, from climate to climate, from continent to continent, and from one way of life to another. When humanity stops wandering, it will stop rising in the scale of being. Physical wandering is still important. But even more important is humanity’s capacity for spiritual adventures: adventures of thought, passionate feeling, and aesthetic experience. Diversity among human communities is essential. It provides the incentive and material for the Odyssey of the human spirit. Other nations with different habits are not enemies. They are godsends. People need their neighbors to be similar enough to understand, different enough to attract attention, and great enough to inspire admiration. We must not expect all the virtues, however. We should even be satisfied if our neighbors have something odd enough to be interesting.

Modern science has imposed on humanity the necessity for wandering. Its progressive thought and its progressive technology make the transition through time, from generation to generation, a true migration into uncharted seas of adventure. The very benefit of wandering is that it is dangerous and needs skill to avert evils. We must expect, therefore, that the future will disclose dangers. It is the business of the future to be dangerous; and it is among the merits of science that it equips the future for its duties. The prosperous middle classes, who ruled the nineteenth century, placed an excessive value upon placidity of existence. They refused to face the necessities for social reform imposed by the new industrial system, and they are now refusing to face the necessities for intellectual reform imposed by the new knowledge. The middle class pessimism over the future of the world comes from a confusion between civilisation and security. In the immediate future there will be less security than in the immediate past, less stability. It must be admitted that there is a degree of instability which is inconsistent with civilisation. But, on the whole, the great ages have been unstable ages.

Modern science has made wandering necessary for humanity. As science and technology advance, each generation moves into uncharted seas of adventure. Wandering is valuable precisely because it is dangerous and requires skill to avoid harm. We must therefore expect the future to bring dangers. It is the future’s business to be dangerous. One merit of science is that it equips the future for its duties. The prosperous middle classes, who ruled the nineteenth century, valued a peaceful life too highly. They refused to face the social reforms required by the new industrial system. Now they refuse to face the intellectual reforms required by new knowledge. Middle class pessimism about the world’s future comes from confusing civilisation with security. In the immediate future, there will be less security and stability than in the immediate past. We must admit that too much instability is incompatible with civilisation. But, on the whole, the great ages have been unstable ones.

I have endeavoured in these lectures to give a record of a great adventure in the region of thought. It was shared in by all the races of western Europe. It developed with the slowness of a mass movement. Half a century is its unit of time. The tale is the epic of an episode in the manifestation of reason. It tells how a particular direction of reason emerges in a race by the long preparation of antecedent epochs, how after its birth its subject-matter gradually unfolds itself, how it attains its triumphs, how its influence moulds the very springs of action of mankind, and finally how at its moment of supreme success its limitations disclose themselves and call for a renewed exercise of the creative imagination. The moral of the tale is the power of reason, its decisive influence on the life of humanity. The great conquerors, from Alexander to Caesar, and from Caesar to Napoleon, influenced profoundly the lives of subsequent generations. But the total effect of this influence shrinks to insignificance, if compared to the entire transformation of human habits and human mentality produced by the long line of men of thought from Thales to the present day, men individually powerless, but ultimately the rulers of the world.

In these lectures, I have tried to tell the story of a great adventure in thought. All the peoples of western Europe shared in it. It developed with the slowness of a mass movement. Its unit of time is half a century. The story is an epic of one episode in the unfolding of reason. It tells how a particular way of reasoning emerges among a people after long preparation in earlier ages. After its birth, the subject matter of this way of reasoning gradually unfolds, and it achieves its triumphs. Its influence shapes the very sources of human action. Finally, at the moment of its greatest success, its limits become clear and call for a renewed use of creative imagination. The lesson of the story is the power of reason and its decisive influence on human life. The great conquerors, from Alexander to Caesar, and from Caesar to Napoleon, profoundly influenced the lives of later generations. But the total effect of their influence shrinks to insignificance beside the complete transformation of human habits and thinking. That transformation was brought about by the long line of thinkers from Thales to the present day. These men were individually powerless, but ultimately they became the rulers of the world.