Although logical positivism represents a partisan view, it does express indirectly a basic truth—that the philosophical enterprise has always hovered uncertainly between the lure of religious devotion and that of scientific exactitude. In the teachings of the earliest philosophers of Greece, it is impossible to separate ideas of divinity and the human soul from ideas about the mystery of being and the genesis of material change, and in the Middle Ages philosophy was acknowledged to be the “handmaiden of theology.” But the increased secularization of modern culture has largely reversed this trend, and the Enlightenment’s emphasis upon the separation of nature from its divine creator has increasingly placed philosophical resources at the disposal of those interested in creating a philosophy of science.
Yet philosophy’s continuing search for philosophical truth leads it to hope, but at the same time to profoundly doubt, that its problems are objectively solvable. With respect to a total description of Being or a definitive account of the nature of values, only individual solutions now seem possible; and the optimistic hope for objective answers that secure universal agreement must be given up.
In this respect, philosophy seems less like science than like art and philosophers more like artists than like scientists, for their philosophical solutions bear the stamp of their own personalities, and their choice of arguments reveals as much about themselves as their chosen problem. As a work of art is a portion of the world seen through a temperament, so a philosophical system is a vision of the world subjectively assembled. Plato and Descartes, Immanuel Kant (1724–1804), a German idealist, and John Dewey (1859–1952), an American pragmatist, have given to their systems many of the quaint trappings of their own personalities.
But if philosophy is not true in the same sense as science, it is not false in the same sense either; and this gives to the history of philosophy a living significance that the history of science does not enjoy. In science, the present confronts the past as truth confronts error; thus, for science, the past, even when important at all, is important only out of historical interest. In philosophy it is different. Philosophical systems are never definitively proved false; they are simply discarded or put aside for future use. And this means that the history of philosophy consists not simply of dead museum pieces but of ever-living classics—comprising a permanent repository of ideas, doctrines, and arguments and a continuing source of philosophical inspiration and suggestiveness to those who philosophize in any succeeding age. It is for this reason that any attempt to separate philosophizing from the history of philosophy is both a provincial act and an unnecessary impoverishment of its rich natural resources. General considerations Ways of ordering the history
The writing of the history of philosophy is controlled by a variety of cultural habits and conventions.
The ensuing article on the history of Western philosophy is divided into five sections—ancient, medieval, Renaissance, modern, and contemporary. A threefold distinction between ancient, medieval, and modern philosophy was prevalent until recent times and is only as old as the end of the 17th century. This distinction slowly spread to historical writing in all fields and was given definitive influence in philosophical writing through the series of lectures on the history of philosophy that Hegel delivered first at Jena, then at Heidelberg, and finally at Berlin between 1805 and 1830. In the century after Hegel, it was taken for granted as standard practice, though a host of cultural assumptions is implied by its use.
Treatment of the total field of the history of philosophy has been traditionally subject to two types of ordering, according to whether it was conceived primarily as (1) a history of ideas or (2) a history of the intellectual products of human beings. In the first ordering, certain ideas, or concepts, are viewed as archetypal (such as matter or mind or doubt), and the condensations occurring within the flow of thought tend to consist of basic types, or schools. This ordering has characterized works such as The History of Materialism (1866) by Friedrich Lange (1828–75), The Idealist Tradition: From Berkeley to Blanshard (1957) by A.C. Ewing (1899–1973), and The History of Scepticism from Erasmus to Descartes (1960) by Richard H. Popkin (1923–2005). In the second type of ordering, the historian, impressed by the producers of ideas as much as by the ideas themselves—that is, with philosophers as agents—reviews the succession of great philosophical personalities in their rational achievements. This ordering has produced the more customary histories, such as A History of Western Philosophy (1945) by Bertrand Russell and The Great Philosophers (1957) by Karl Jaspers (1883–1969).
These two different types of ordering depend for their validity upon an appeal to two different principles about the nature of ideas, but their incidental use may also be influenced by social or cultural factors. Thus, the biographers and compilers of late antiquity (among them Plutarch [46–c. 119], Sextus Empiricus [flourished 3rd century ad], Philostratus [170–c. 245], and Clement of Alexandria [150–c. 211]), impressed by the religious pluralism of the age in which they lived, thought of philosophers, too, as falling into different sects and wrote histories of the Sophists, the Skeptics, the Epicureans, and other such schools; whereas, almost 2,000 years later, Hegel—living in a period of Romantic historiography dominated by the concept of the great man in history—deliberately described the history of philosophy as “a succession of noble minds, a gallery of heroes of thought.”
Plutarch, circa ad 100.Edward Gooch—Hulton Archive/Getty Images
Moving between these two ordering principles, the article below will be eclectic (as has come to be the custom), devoting chief attention to outstanding major figures while joining more-minor figures, wherever possible, into the schools or tendencies that they exemplify. Factors in writing the history
The type of ordering suggested above also has some relationship to the more general problems of method in the writing of the history of philosophy. Here there are at least three factors that must be taken into account: (1) that any philosopher’s doctrines depend (at least in part) upon those of his predecessors, (2) that a philosopher’s thought occurs at a certain point in history and thus expresses the effects of certain social and cultural circumstances, and (3) that a philosopher’s thought stems (at least in part) from his own personality and situation in life. This is only to say that the history of philosophy, to be at all comprehensive and adequate, must deal with the mutual interplay of ideas, of cultural contexts, and of agents.
The first factor may be called logical because a given philosophy is, in part, the intellectual response to the doctrines of its forerunners, taking as central the problems given by the current climate of controversy. Thus, many of the details of Aristotle’s ethical, political, and metaphysical systems arise in arguments directed against statements and principles of Plato; much of An Essay Concerning Human Understanding (1690) by the English philosopher John Locke (1632–1704), an initiator of the Enlightenment, is directed against contemporary Cartesian presuppositions; and the New Essays Concerning Human Understanding (1704) by Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz (1646–1716), a broadly learned German rationalist, is, in turn, specifically directed against Locke.