Voltaire and the Philosophy of History

'History is but a pack of tricks we play on the dead'. The words are Voltaire's - and characteristic of him they are too: gently provocative and not without some ring of truth to them either. I read somewhere (I forget where) that Voltaire coined the phrase 'philosophy of history' and remarks of this sort fit naturally within the oeuvre of a writer who was much preoccupied with the course of history, the passing of time and the meaning of progress. One of the chief targets of Voltaire's sarcastic arrows was the Christian church, a church which to his mind had been ravaged and made to look absurd by the new uncertainties and cultural shifts which had accompanied the movement towards a more modern age. 'Movement', it should be stressed, rather than progress. For whereas some more optimistic thinkers perceived in the new age of mechanisation and mass production, in the burgeoning of new and purportedly less constricted cultural forms, an inexorable forward 'push' in the course of human affairs, Voltaire resisted the temptation to see things this way.

It would be a mistake to hail him as a visionary in this respect, as an inaugurator of a new discourse concerned with the nature and problems of history. Questions concerning the nature and trajectory (or lack thereof) of history had puzzled thinkers for many previous centuries and had received a wide variety of answers. Voltaire's suspicion of progress (was it really happening?) fits within a broader trend here. But he undoubtedly played an important part in the move toward formally recognising the importance of a sub-category of philosophical questions concerning the character of history. These questions would play a leading role in shaping some of the key landmarks of 19th century philosophy - particularly, the works of Hegel and Marx.

I don't know if he was onto anything but he certainly heightened awareness of these questions - questions which are a matter of continuing interest to me.

Economics and Moral Progress

The economist must be a good utilitarian. He must want to see the greatest good provided for the greatest number. His job, amongst other things, is to play a role in enabling this to happen. Yes, he might admit, 'good' has its problems of definition. These, however, are seldom too great a cause for concern. It can be taken for granted for the most part that what is good can be distinguished with confidence from what is less good. And insofar as distinctions cannot be made, an increase in what an economist would call 'information' would hopefully - though (I hope he'd say) not necessarily - help remedy the problem.

The economist must, I think, be a believer in moral progress - and at the very least, in the possibility of moral progress - for society as a whole. He need not, however, be a committed political or social theorist. If push came to shove, he could conceive of himself as a (kind of) 'rule' utilitarian, or 'act' utilitarian, or 'preference' utilitarian. He could even, one supposes, disavow the underlying philosophical validity of any form of utilitarianism altogether - so long, that is, as 'private' judgements of this kind did not come to affect his 'economic' output. The analytical output of the economist, one might say, should orient itself solely to explorations of how far an increase in 'good' or welfare might be achieved, however much the economist in question doubts how far the hypothetical 'good' or welfare in his models will (ever) find itself transferred into the world at large.

How secure, though, is the economist's underlying assumption that moral progress can, has and will occur? The problems of definition here are immense. How do we measure morality? And what might moral progress consist in? Better health care? Better education? More equality? (How, moreover, should 'good' in each of these spheres be conceived?) The economist could and arguably should suggest all of them, at any rate, as necessary criteria. What, though, if 'progress' in each of the spheres in question were to bring about some cataclysmic event or events? The moral progress (if that is what it was) which human cultures made from the time of classical antiquity to the twentieth century was, after all, a 'progress' which included much increased potential for mass-suffering, murder and genocide. The mechanisms of control which civilisation had built up - through its own 'economic' institutions of education, health and civil service - led to these abuses. Economic institutions, of course, were also necessary for the combatting of sinister social influences in these spheres - albeit that they were often populated by negligent people of poor judgement. Even if this is so, it is some task to find some coherent doctrine of moral progress when we come to look at the total picture of our - not exactly very blameless - postcolonial, postimperial world. Such, of course, is the dilemma of postmodern man - whose confidence in the forward proceeding, upward trajectory of the historical process has been justly diminished by the horrors of the twentieth century. Must he, on their basis, abandon all hope of moral progress - in this or any other culture? And must he for this reason make a bad, or perhaps simply a compromised, economist?

What is certain is that he must take due account of the full extent of the warning of the twentieth century experience. That century - which in the popular consciousness is regarded as an 'age of progress' no less than the two centuries which preceded it - may well in future generations be viewed as nothing less than an age of (sinister) 'progress' towards the mass extinction of human beings in an overpopulated, overheated world. Historians of all stripes will be for the present inclined to take the view that the progress humanity made during and leading up to the twentieth century resulted in the most catastrophic humanitarian disasters ever witnessed. The utilitarian philosopher must conclude that if moral progress is being made, or has been made, across the human world as a whole, it came in the last century at some considerable price. The moralist must observe also that a persistent problem of the twentieth century experience was the behaviour of groups who felt able to justify bizarre and horrendous actions on the basis of some or other moral or scientific prerogative. Both morality (including utlilitarian moralities) and science can be and are abused by their practitioners. This abuse - and one might even go so far as to call it a systemic abuse which is endemic in our social structures where imperfect agents go about constantly making decisions in the absence of full information - should be held up forever as a constant barrier and limitation to any confidently expressed doctrine of moral progress.

As far as I'm concerned, insofar as twenty first century man can even dare to think in terms of moral progress (and, in his societal institutions, he must surely remain in some degree committed - as the economist is, at least in his professional life - to precisely such thoughts), an overwhelming sense of human limitedness and the appropriateness of feelings of humility concerning the insurmountable moral problems which bare upon human processes of decision making should surely characterise his outlook. This much need barely be said: it should be obvious enough that it is so. It is alarming that confident proclamations of the 'progress' made by human rationality in and through the natural sciences should sometimes so obviously lack this utterly necessary dimension. The deep problem, perhaps, is that humans have failed to doubt in appropriate degree the validity and authority of their own moral judgements. This is by no means a new problem. And however much 'progress' is made, what prospect is there that this perennial issue will melt away as we 'proceed' to new heights? There is much here, we should remember, that should trouble even the most confident economist whose work bears the hallmark of his utilitarian assumptions. The human world, we must always remember, is positioned delicately but unalterably in the palm of a totally unmeasurable, untameable, 'hand'.

Prayer: Some Collected Thoughts [1]

The pun of the title is intentional. This is the second post in succession which merely rehearses the views of others. But I feel there's value in linking together the thoughts of fellow believers in this way. They certainly inform and shape my own views. And precisely this method was favoured by the great De Lubac himself as well as in the excellent recent work by Olivier Clement on the Roots of Christian Mysticism. To draw together the wisdom of the past and to forge it into a glorious harmonious symphony of praise is all the theologian can do. And if the moral ambition of the historian of Christianity is to make the living faith speak in places and times where it cannot at present do so, then the method is acceptable to him too. For the effort to regain meaning and context in particular past circumstances cannot be justified if it is made at the expense of a much greater loss. If the following passages represent merely a synthesis of my own reading and thinking on the question of prayer, I trust they are no worse for it. Their intention, however, is to capture the essence of prayer in others' lives - in the present and past - and to represent something of what the Gospel has had to say on the matter.

‘The fear of prayer: is it fear of illusion, or fear of truth? Fear of psychological complications or fear of God? And is it not at the same time fear of finding one’s self and fear of losing one’s self?’ – Henri de Lubac, Paradoxes of Faith, 191.

‘One who strives after pure prayer will hear noises and uproar, voices and insults. But he will not be dismayed nor lose his composure if he says to God, ‘Thou art with me, I fear no evil’ – Evagrius of Pontus, On Prayer, 97.

‘They asked Abba Macarius, ‘How should one pray?’ The old man replied, ‘There is no need to lose oneself in words. It is enough to spread out the hands and to say, “Lord, as you will and as you know best, have mercy”. If the battle is fierce, say “Help!” He knows what is suitable for you and he will take pity on you’ – Sayings of the Desert Fathers, Macarius 19.

‘Prayer is continuous when the spirit clings to God with deep emotion and great longing, and remains forever attached to him by faith and hope in all the actions and events of destiny’ – Maximus Confessor, Asceticism 25.

‘When the spirit dwells in a person, from the moment in which that person has become prayer, he never leaves him. For the Spirit himself never ceases to pray in him. Whether the person is asleep or awake, prayer never from then on departs from his soul’ – Isaac of Nineveh, Ascetic Treatises 85.

This Blog

The title of this blog is borrowed from a wonderful book on the scriptural exegesis of the 3rd century Christian thinker, Origen of Alexandria, by Henri de Lubac. It is intended in its present context to refer to attempts to speak about spiritual meaning in the context of human history. These attempts can take on a variety of guises, as de Lubac himself knew well. They can be strictly historicizing in character, which is to say that they can seek merely to explain the ways in which past people understood the meaning of past happenings in light of their spiritual ideas. Or they can take on a more presentist philosophico-theological tenor and begin to speak of how people in our own world might understand the past - either as a whole, or in respect of single events or experiences. Each of these areas of thought will be mentioned in entries to this page, which will touch upon the ideas of a range of thinkers, past and present. Both areas of thought matter. They might even relate to each other in an important way.

Even if one is not a historian or a philosopher of history or a theologian, everybody adopts ways of thinking about matters pertaining to history and spirit, whether as a result of reflection or not. Although there is no reason to suppose that reflection alone is conducive to the accurate portrayal of the past or to the accessing of correct modes of thinking about it, I don't think it can hurt in either case. My own feeling is that without reflection, historical thinking rapidly becomes unfaithful to its past objects and presentist in character. Some people don't think the potential for such infidelity and (naive?) presentism to be a problem. But I am inclined to suppose that it must be. Why should I remain unopposed to the loss of information and perspective on our ancestors and on the world which shaped ours? I can foresee that good answers to this question could be conceived. What, for example, if moving away from more strictly historicizing modes of thinking about the past could lead in our present-day society to greater levels of equality, welfare and value in people's lives? It's a good question, and if we could be sure that a positive answer to it were possible, a genuine case could be made of its strength. In the absence of relevant or sufficient information, however, there is no reason to let it win the matter. I trust that there remains, then, a moral case - or, at least, moral potential - for historical thinking, at least, that is, of a certain kind. I am not at all arguing for the validity of Hegelian historicism or any other such philosophy of history, although I certainly don't dissent from the view that (forms of) such philosophies of history are possible (and perhaps even worthwhile).

As for spiritual thinking, this is a kind of thinking which tends to speak positively of reflection. Certainly, most 'spiritual' thought has wanted to privilege certain kinds of reflection and to abandon others. Against this, my own view is that 'spiritual' thinking - and it is a good question what exactly might be said to characterise 'spiritual' thinking - must be open to honest reflection on all things. Maybe the posts of this blog will bear that view out and go some way to support it. For I certainly cannot speak from my own experience of the kind of prayer, the kind of worship and the kind of 'spiritual' life which in principle refuses to meditate on certain issues, no matter how difficult or arcane they might seem to some (or even to myself). Everything in my experience has to be left open to reflection and this is almost itself an article of faith, I suppose. No corner of the universe can be ciphered off and dismissed as irrelevant. Radical openness, and the potential for continuing questioning about truth and meaning on all fronts. Answers are important too, of course. I will end this first post by confessing my own dedication to the idea that a lowly crucified rabbi offers more of those than an educated Platonism. Cause, then, for further reflection - at least for me.