Showing posts with label Anthropology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Anthropology. Show all posts

Monday, 29 November 2021

Spirituality, Philosophy and Psychedelics


Thomas, long time no hear. I was curious to get your take on something that I'm not sure what to make of, intellectually and emotionally: the increasingly popular idea that Western spirituality, but more concretely, Greek spirituality is rooted in psychedelic experience. It seems that the Eleusinian mysteries in particular are now being identified as quasi-mushroom cults, while Shamanic transformation is also more and more considered a product of substance use. Again, not sure what to make of it. I mean, would there be no Plato, Empedocles or Pythagoras without mushrooms? Is that the idea? Strange. Anyways, hope all is well. Johannes

...........,

Sorry for the delay in replying. I don't think that Greek spirituality is rooted in psychedelic experience, though you are right that scholars are trying to identify the opposite to be the case. They've been doing this for years, and particularly since the sixties. That's anthropology for you: just imagine how it must have been, rather than read the texts carefully. 

It is true that the ancient Greeks and Romans used drugs as part of religious ritual in some cases (there is a contributed chapter by Robert Graves in William Sargant's 'Battle for the Mind', which is worth a read) But that does not mean that religion or spirituality emerges from the use of psychedelics. The point of using drugs enables those who run the rituals to show that what you think you understand and what you think you see might be quite different. That was the significance of drug use all the way up to the romantic poets and beyond. Trying to understand Plato, Empedocles and Pythagoras  as the product of the use of psychedelic mushrooms however is a complete joke.

Hope this is useful.

Best, Thomas 

Tuesday, 29 October 2019

An Appetite for Knowledge



I have argued elsewhere that ideas of Being, of the nature of reality, and the divine, were once approached  in terms of conjectures about the reality (or otherwise) of the one and the many. These conjectures follow on from the initial question, which is: why is there something rather than nothing? Plato’s argument, following on from propositions made by Parmenides, who declared that we should look only to the one, and that only the one truly is real, is the most sophisticated of all discussions in antiquity concerning why there should be something rather than nothing.

Plato argues that we should always look to the ‘one true thing’. This is different from saying only the one exists, or only the one is truly real.

The anthropologist and classicist J.G. Frazer was very dismissive of Greek questions concerning the one and the many, saying that they constituted ‘popular questions of the day’. The argument of Parmenides about the nature of Being  remained entirely undiscussed by Frazer.  But then he argued that questions concerning Being were entirely barren, since nothing could be predicated of Being.*1

This of course is a spectacular instance of intellectual blindness, by which the richness of the intellectual matrix of ancient Greek thought was spirited into nothingness. We like to see Plato’s articulate discussion of Being as the surfacing of a human capacity to grapple with abstract ideas, and the marker of our emancipation from irrational ideas about the world and the gods. For Frazer, Plato was as guilty of intellectual error as any of his contemporaries, as well as his predecessors.

In late Hellenistic times, there seems to have been a very poor grasp of the context of the development of philosophy around the Mediterranean. Nods were made toward the notion that the discipline of philosophy might not have been first developed in Greece, including (tellingly) at the beginning of Diogenes Laertius’ Lives of the Philosophers.  Plato after all argued against the idea that this was so in the Protagoras, saying that the practice of philosophy was of a great age – perhaps contemporary with the arrival of peoples from Egypt, who settled in the Peloponnese, and also in Crete. He also presented Solon in discussion with Egyptian priests in the pages of the Timaeus, who found the Greeks to be very young, and not conversant with knowledge ‘hoary with age’.  

Aristotle presented the common sense view that philosophy was first developed in a place where there was a leisured class, with the time and resources to think about philosophical questions. He may have had Egypt in mind, since Egypt had professionalised priesthoods. Later philosophers such as Porphyry suggested that key parts of Pythagorean doctrine came west to Greece from Babylon, in the late sixth century B.C.E.*2  Plato references details of this doctrine, without connecting it explicitly to Pythagoras.*3 Aspects of that doctrine can be found elsewhere in the pages of Herodotus (concerning Solon),*4  and also in Homer’s Iliad (Book 18), where a number of key details associated with the doctrine are run together in close order, without being explained. *5

The former Priest of Bel at Babylon, Berossus, moved to Athens, and wrote about Babylonian history and philosophy, describing their system of knowledge as based on the idea of an initial plenum (which is a philosophical concept) using the image of a sage emerging daily from beneath the sea (symbolising primal fulness and abundance), granting knowledge to man about the sciences, agriculture, and the practical arts. *6 He also gave information about the Babylonian New Year festival (Enuma Elish), the liturgy for which contained accounts of two creations: the first irrational, and the second one, rational, and which was given its rational character by the chief of the Babylonian gods.*7  Berossus' book was the Babyloniaka, unfortunately now lost. But the christian writer Eusebius had access to it as late as the early fourth century C.E, and quoted a number of passages from it which survive in his writings. Recovered Mesopotamian texts, including tablets containing the Enuma Elish liturgy, generally confirm the accuracy of Berossus. 

Not much of this was of use to the Enlightenment agenda, which preferred to look at the development of philosophy in Greece as the first beginnings of a rational understanding of the world. And so the information was deprecated and ignored. The phrase ‘I doubt that’ is a dangerous one in the classics community. It is a way of saying ‘this is not the consensus view of scholars and the profession’. Usually no discussion follows, since the opinion is usually an opinion of the worth (or otherwise) of evidence. Scholars weigh evidence, and they do so (they are convinced) with better tools than were available to ancient scholars. The judgement is fitted to modern requirements. So, as a result, it is clear that it is unlikely that Solon visited Egypt, and that Pythagoras visited Babylon. Tread carefully, or your credibility as a scholar may be in doubt.

Thus, the scholarly consensus is that philosophy is an autochthonous development. The culture of the modern west rests on this idea.Why in Greece? The idea of the ‘Greek genius’ won’t cut the mustard any more, at least by itself, but I have heard the phrase uttered by people who should know better. But during the high days of the enlightenment, and the beginnings of what became the fully-fledged discipline of Classics, that is what the scholars wanted. Something pure and out of the orbit of other cultures, which, by definition, had no philosophy or anything which would measure up to something like rational thought.

Sometimes history is built backwards. It isn’t just a matter of looking to the historical record and starting from that. History always has been in part about critical scrutiny of sources and judgements, even among the Greeks *8 But as Bernal pointed out in the first volume of his Black Athena, the critical revision begun in the enlightenment was wholesale, and created an alternative representation of the origins of European civilisation.

That was the agenda. To reinterpret the past, and in terms of a rational and enlightened understanding of the world. Hence, the philosophe Denis Diderot wrote not just about ideas and philosophy in his Encyclopédie, but also about the arts and crafts. The latter may have been wrapped up with myth, folklore, and superstition, but they were still essential to the rational life of man, so these were also added to the Encyclopédie. Everything from the past which served some purpose, or which could be made to serve some purpose within the rational enlightenment model of reality, was critically examined, and reworked to fit what was intended to become a new understanding of man and his place in a new world of reason. A new understanding of how man might live.

I wrote in the article ‘Logical Modality in Classical Athens’ that there are in fact two logical modalities present in the writings of Plato and Aristotle. Aristotle is mostly (though not always) concerned with the modality which has come down to us as the basis of formal logic. Plato is clearly aware of this modality, but, though no modern academic has dared to identify the other modality as logical, it is. It is simply that to us, it does not describe relationships which should be described as logical. Plato  talks about this other logical modality several times, in the Republic and in the Timaeus. It is connected with the doctrine of wholes and totalities, and is the basis of explaining how things may participate in other things, which is not a pattern of ideas which fits with Aristotle’s general understanding of logic.*9

Why is this important? Simply put, it matters because it is the basis of the Greek understanding of how transcendent reality relates to secular and physical existence, which was a matter of great significance up to the middle of the first millennium B.C.E, and beyond.  The doctrine underpins the understanding of the divine as something which can be both transcendent, and immanent, and thus be present in existence. *10 *11 It also points to a rather strange conclusion about the nature of the reality in which we live and think.*12

It might be imagined therefore that this doctrine would be the subject of a great deal of scholarship. In fact there is very little on the subject. The dialogues in which the doctrine appears have been written about endlessly over the last two centuries, but, though Plato’s discussion is noted, the fact that his discussion is based on an alternate logical modality is not acknowledged, and the conclusions which might follow from treating it as such, do not follow, and are therefore not discussed. It is treated as it is often presented by Plato – as mathematical and geometrical metaphors for how things might possess some form of congruence with each other.

I've argued elsewhere that there is, in general, very little appetite for attempting to understand Plato in his own terms.*13  When he talks about transcendent reality, this is treated as some sort of literary fiction, which has no necessary properties of its own. When Plato talks about the Forms, this also is treated as a species of literary fiction, which Plato records as being demolished in his Parmenides and in the Sophist. When Plato discusses the soul (in the Timaeus), it turns out that it is something which has the property of being connected with the Form of the Good, and so he argues that knowledge is acquired by the activation of that connection. We have forgotten what we knew (apparently) through the shock of physical birth, but it is possible for us to reacquire this knowledge by looking to the one true thing.*14 

Deriving all knowledge from the Form of the Good is also seen as a bafflingly impenetrable notion to the modern mind, since Plato talks about ascending purely in the mind from Form to Form, and then descending back to the world of physical reality, Form by Form, and says this is the only way to acquire genuine knowledge. How can real knowledge be acquired in this way? Why should Plato argue like this?  How can any of this make sense to us?

It makes very little sense to us, because we have lost the original doctrinal context of his discussions, and we are not that interested in attempting to recover what we can of that context, even for the purposes of a better scholarly understanding of what he is talking about. So the study of Plato languishes lifeless in the seminar room, taught and discussed from generation to generation by people who have no clear idea of what Plato meant. Books and papers are published, which clear up a minor detail here, discuss another one there, but do not leave us much the wiser.

We can understand the range of existing discussion about Plato in terms of what scholars do not or cannot understand about Plato, and their attempts to fit what they think they understand about his work into some kind of modern frame. It is their minds, and the categories of their own understanding which create the problem, not the obscurity of Plato’s ideas.

One of the principal reasons we cannot easily understand Plato is down to the loss of an understanding of that alternative logical modality. That understanding needs to be restored, along with a basic comprehension of why it is important. Not just for our understanding of Plato himself, but also for our understanding of his cultural context; the context in which philosophy was understood to be of inestimable value; and also for an understanding of some very strange things about the ancient world, which are all the stranger because (it seems) they made sense in antiquity (sacrifice, divination, idolatry, prophecy, omens, oracles, etc.).

One of the most valued books in my library is Religion and Magic: Approaches and Theories, which is a survey of modern anthropological thought. *15 The author is Graham Cunningham, a specialist in the ancient Near East and the relevant languages. Anthropology is a relatively young discipline, though crowded with many points of view. *16 Cunningham’s book covers the whole range of these, at least in terms of summarising the views of those who first suggested those theoretical approaches. He divides the approaches into several sections, which are:
1 German pioneers, 2 Early Intellectualist approaches, 3 Emotionalist approaches, 4 Phenomenological Approaches, 5 Structural Functional Approaches, 6 Symbolic Approaches, 7 Recent Intellectualist Approaches, 8 Structural approaches, 9 Cognitive Approaches, 10  Feminist Approaches.
All of these approaches were developed and used without any meaningful distinction being made between ancient cultural phenomena and cultural phenomena of modern times. I write carefully here, since there are unpleasant presumptions in the discipline of anthropology, which have not yet been rooted out. Anthropology as a formal subject was founded in the early nineteenth century, and the presumptions of the time are necessarily locked into the work of the pioneers. Many of these can be called into the light of day if you scratch the modern anthropologist in the course of discussion. The fact is that a dangerous equation was early made between the cultures of antiquity and the world of  'the primitive and the savage' in the modern world (which the Classicist D’Arcy Wentworth Thompson referred to as ‘running folklore to the death’).*17

So Cunningham’s book covers two centuries of thought about culture, civilization, religion, magic and ritual. All premised on the assumptions, understanding and categories of knowledge of those living and working in those two centuries. Nothing about those matters is covered from earlier centuries. It is as if the study of human culture, human thought, and the nature of man himself, began only in Hegel’s study, and nothing of worth came before Hegel. *18 

I could digress here, and lay out what came before in detail, but that is for another time. I will allow myself to say that Plato had something else to bring to the party, which is not covered in Cunningham’s survey; the Neoplatonists (who thought of themselves as Platonists, but we will not let them be what they are) would have brought the same thing to the party, as would some of the early Gnostic writers. The Platonists of the Italian and English Renaissances also understood what Plato was writing about, at least for the most part, and would be shocked that, not only do we not understand Plato, but that we have chosen to explain much of human culture in terms of a fundamental conceptual error about the way reality works, and with a complete disregard for the way the human mind was once understood to engage with that reality.

It is assumed by the moderns (in the west, at least) that philosophy is a cultural phenomenon which, in historical terms, follows on from religious thought, and does not precede it. We are sure of this because we are sure we know what religion is, and what philosophy is. We think that religion enshrines a form of knowledge about the world and the universe which is less than rational, and that the devotees of religion are often credulous. Religious thought is often transfixed by the numinous and the invisible, and its responses to these things are unfathomable to the rational mind. We also think religion, to a great extent, developed in response to the ideological needs of social groups, sometimes in conflict with other social groups, which can give very distinctive structures to the myths and rituals which become part of the bedrock of the public show of these religions.We believe this (admittedly oversimplified) picture to be a correct interpretation of what religion is. Modern religion differs from ancient religion only in details.

Whereas philosophy is about a critical and rational understanding of the world and how it presents itself to us. Religion is cast as an un-philosophical and irrational understanding of that reality. The development of philosophy represents progress.

These notions are subject to nuance of course, but this is the core of the enlightenment idea of what these things are.

We assume that religion, as it presents itself to us in the form of the relatively young Abrahamic religions, is not fundamentally different in nature to other religions, either elsewhere now, or in the distant past. We make such an assumption, because there is nothing in our understanding of other religions which suggests to us, at least not with any clarity, that any other process is active in the creation and operation of religion. The dynamics are the same, and the functions are the same.

Graham Cunningham’s postscript makes it clear that religion is generally understood by anthropologists to be a relic of an earlier time where rational thought was absent. Certainly in terms of what we would recognise. Somehow religion is still with us, because large parts of the human race believe in the importance and efficacy of belief in the divine: that belief in the reality of the divine is something which is essential to the religious life, and the religious understanding of reality. *19

Yet this is not what ancient writers tell us. They tell a different story, as I’ve suggested, and one which is not represented by any current anthropological approach. That different story is that religion in the ancient world was not about belief, but concerned both knowledge and conjecture about the nature of the divine; and about the nature of reality itself.*20

I prefer to write about ancient religion in terms of divine cult. I distinguish the two for clarity - religion is often understood in the modern world in terms of sociological and ideological functions. And indeed religion has these functions: it often provides social cohesion, ideology, and useful rules of social behaviour. But to attempt to explain the core of divine cult in such terms is presumptive. If the core of a divine cult involves rational conjecture about the nature of reality itself, we will not easily find this out, even if the evidence is screaming this at us. In antiquity the ritual practice of divine cult was often a private affair, rather than a public one, which implies an important division between the performative function of ritual, and the outward show. Ritual and observance were the important things. The public show might echo the thought behind the cult in some respects, and offer clues to its significance and nature, but it is not the cult itself. *21

The association of knowledge with the core divine cult (and, consequently, a confirmation of the  connection of the cult with the divine itself), gave the rituals of ancient religion (both private and public) their efficacy, and patterned their meaning. But this did not involve belief.  Belief is something which is not supported by credible argument, or is a step beyond the limits of an rational argument.  That is not what was involved in ancient discussion of questions concerning the divine. Can you have knowledge without rational modes of thought? And what did the ancient writers mean by knowledge of the divine, and by equating knowledge with the divine? Clearly, it is not possible to have actual knowledge of something without rational modes of thought. But what rational thought is, is another one of those things which we are quite clear about in modern times, even if the evidence points to a different conclusion, and exists in teeming quantities.

___

 1. Frazer wrote this in his prize essay of 1879 on the 'Growth and Development of Plato's Ideal Theory'. Published finally in 1930. I'd found this essay after noticing that there were odd features in the structure of The Golden Bough. I wrote about this in J. G. Frazer and the Platonic Theory of Being (2016), and also in the more compact essay 'Frazer and the Association of Ideas', published in Understanding Ancient Thought (2017).
2. In his 'Life of Pythagoras' Porphyry tells us that Pythagoras travelled extensively around the Near East and Egypt in the service of Cyrus. Discussed in 'Pythagoreanism, the Divine, and the Nature of Eternity'.
 3. In the Timaeus. Discussed in 'The Platonic Theory of Being' (full text with notes). Originally published in The Sacred History of Being (2015).
4. Discussed in 'Solon in the Court of Croesus' (extract). The full text is a chapter in The Sacred History of Being (2015).
5. Discussed in 'Working Wonders: Hephaestus and the Armour of Achilles'. A retitled chapter from The Sacred History of Being (2015), originally titled  'Being in Homer'.
 6. Discussed in 'Oannes and the Instruction of Mankind', which is one of the appendices to The Sacred History of Being (2015).
7 Discussed in 'The Babylonian Creation': an extract from the chapter 'Creation' in The Sacred History of Being (2015).
 8. Modern scholars are well aware of this. Ancient historians arranged information, but also questioned it. The Assyrians seemed to have a similar attitude to their materials - the chronicles associated with Ashurbanipal's reign exist in more than one version, with events recorded in a different order.
 9. Discussed in 'Logical Modality in Classical Athens' which is a chapter in Understanding Ancient Thought (2017).
10. Consequently this ought to be a matter of interest to Christian theologians, owing to the importance of the idea of the incarnation of the divine in the Gospels. For centuries the incarnation has been presented as a mystery (to both believers and theologians), without any kind of theoretical basis. But the theoretical basis is present in ancient literature, in various places. It even surfaces in a text in the Nag Hammadi documents.
 11. The logical basis of the incarnation is discussed in 'The Keys of the Kingdom: Binding and Loosing in Heaven and Earth', a chapter from Echoes of Eternity (2020).
12. Discussed in 'The Transcendental understanding of Reality', and in 'The Greek Ontological Model in the 1st Millennium B.C.E.'  from Echoes of Eternity (2020).
13.  'The Sweet Song of Swans'. The full text of this chapter, which concerns (among other things) the modern creation of the Greeks as the originators of philosophy, was published in the The Sacred History of Being (2015).
 14. In the chapter 'Plato's Theory of Vision', from The Sacred History of Being (2015). This extract concerns the discussion of the cosmos as “a perceptible God made in the image of the Intelligible.”
 15. Cunningham, Graham, Religion & Magic: Approaches & Theories, Edinburgh University Press, 1999.
 16. That there are so many conflicting views might suggest that perhaps few, or even none of the approaches are correct, but are simply the product of the failure to grasp the sophistication of ancient thought.
17. Discussed in 'Running Folklore to the Death', an extract from section 13 of J.G. Frazer and the Platonic Theory of Being (2016).
18. I've discussed Eriksen and Nielsens' A History of Anthropology (2001) in the chapter 'Before Anthropology', which book illustrates that modern anthropology is sometimes about how things ought to be, rather than a profound engagement with the evidence. They do however give a useful account of what came before Hegel. Published in Man and the Divine (2018).
 19  We tend to inject our presumptions about the past onto the evidence, as if common sense is a servicable tool in understanding it. It takes more than that. Discussed in 'Beyond the Religious Impulse'. Published as a chapter in Understanding Ancient Thought (2017). See also 'Distinguishing Belief and Faith', in Man and the Divine (2018).
20 A close look at Assyrian divination reports makes it clear that there was nothing mystical or vague about Assyrian queries about the future. The queries to the Sungod (Shamash) were expected to provide accurate information in response. This is because the diviners and scholars formulating the questions understood the universe to be rooted in a plenum. In which case,  all things which might be, already exist in the plenum. The diviners were therefore asking the Sungod for information which was available to the god. Twenty divinatory queries are available on the page 'Who will Appear before the City?' The concept of the plenum and its connection with the Mesopotamian story of the creation is discussed in the chapter: 'The Idea of the Plenum in Babylon'; further discussion of  the concept can be found in  'Pleroma, Cosmos, and Physical Existence', both from Understanding Ancient Thought (2017).
21. Discussed in 'Shar Kishati and the Cult of Eternity', published in Understanding Ancient Thought (2017).

Draft version, October 29, 2019. Final version, All Hallows Eve, 2019. Updated 11 January 2020. TY. 






Friday, 17 May 2019

The Destruction of Ancient Astronomy




There is a tide in the affairs of men./Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;/
Omitted, all the voyage of their life/Is bound in shallows and in miseries./
On such a full sea are we now afloat,/And we must take the current when it serves,/
Or lose our ventures./ (Brutus to Cassius, in Julius Caesar Act 4, scene 3, 218–224)

Of course that didn’t work out well in the end, since they chose to fight Octavian at Philippi, and lost. The point is however that everything has a tendency to follow an arc through time, and it is very difficult to preserve an insight or a way of thinking over an extended period. Or an empire. Or anything at all.  And sometimes the tide is in favour of your opponents.

We can look at what happened as a disaster of sorts. But it is also something of a miracle that so much survives, in some shape or form. The astronomy was still intact in the civilizations of South America when the Spanish arrived, followed by the missionaries, and there is still information circulating in the populations, as the writer and anthropologist William Sullivan found out (The Secret of the Incas). Despite the efforts of the Spanish priests to root it out. 

Why did the Christians take against astronomy and astronomical lore? There are two ways in which to look at this question. 

The sky, imagined as a moving image of god, or eternity, is one, and what it is. This seems to have been a deeply rooted idea from time immemorial, and it surfaces in the writing of Plato, and in the later Platonists. The oneness of the image is perhaps the main reason for its identification as an image of god. Another is that it was understood to be forever beyond our reach. But in addition, it contains other images, some of which were identified and described as gods. Not all of them were anthropomorphic deities, but by virtue of their presence in the heavens, all of them had a kind of divine status.

So, the heaven represents what is one and divine, and at the same time contains a plethora of gods. For the Christians, and not just the early ones, that must have been a disturbing thing to contemplate.

Polytheism is one of the most difficult things for human beings (in the modern west) to deal with, both within academia, and in the population at large. Historians and theologians argue that polytheism arose before monotheism, and that it represents an earlier and more barbarous form of religion. And yet, the idea that they both have their reality somewhere in a moving image of God is there in the sky above us.

Scholars will argue that polytheism shows that early man was not thinking of the divine in terms of a single overarching abstraction, which could be imagined to be responsible for the creation, for existence, for generation, etc. And yet, if the myths concerning the gods who belong to a polytheistic pantheon are explored, we find evidence of abstract thought, ideas of creation, the generation and ordering of earthly reality, etc. Instead, it will be argued that the polytheistic gods are representations of things which were important in human society, and which needed to be placated. Therefore they can be interpreted as personifications of natural forces (the existence of storm gods is usually regarded as a clincher), or representations of tribal gods or totems, later integrated into a pantheon which reflects the society built up from earlier and looser groupings.

None of that is impossible, and in many cases, that might be the best explanation. But it is a lazy way to look at intellectual and social history, when there is in existence clear evidence that monotheistic and polytheistic patterns of thought once both belonged to the same model of reality.

One of the most ancient of questions is ‘why are there many, if there is one?’ Thousands of years of theological and philosophical thought were shaped by that question. Considering that the one (or Being itself) is the only truly real thing, does not force us to deny the existence of multiplicity. But it does create a problem, in that it is not easy to find the explanation for multiplicity. One of the ancient arguments was that since only the one was truly real, the world of physical reality was an illusion – a set of subjective perceptions of Being which stand between us and an understanding of Being itself. 
This multiplicity also can be interpreted as the product of the divine’s understanding of itself. In which case, we are part of the working out of what the divine is. Mythology and polytheistic conceptions can be understood as the articulation of that working out.

The point here is that the idea of many gods is deeply disturbing to many human beings, and not just for doctrinal reasons. It is disturbing because there is a deep seated, rarely formulated, and mostly unconscious conception in us that reality (however that is understood) must be itself, and itself alone. The corollary of that is that multiplicity enshrines falsehood and error. Add to that the general view that we are getting smarter over time (the myth of progress, which J.B. Bury wrote about in the twenties) and that we left error behind when (in the west at least) we embraced monotheism instead of polytheism (the concept of the trinity notwithstanding).

This body of ideas spills out into political and social notions (not always in a bad way – many socio-political creations in antiquity owed their origin to discussions of the nature of the divine, and its manifestation in physical reality. The unification of the poleis in Attica is a case in point – the administrative, political and liturgical functions of the state were expressly modelled on the natural divisions of the year).

The political and theological development of the Hebrew kingdoms in the first half of the 1st millennium B.C.E. is mostly unknown to us, since the texts were redacted in the 5th century B.C.E., and reflect the views of the winners of the hegemonic struggle. But we can tell from the later history the general outline of the trajectory of change. Early on there seems to have been a considerable amount of freedom of religious worship in the Hebrew kingdoms (these were also modelled on the natural divisions of the year) until they came into severe conflict with Assyria. After that political and religious power became ever more concentrated in Jerusalem. One god, one power, one place of religious observance, one source of the law, etc.

Christianity, gifted to us partly as the consequence of a similar concentration of power in ancient Rome (another story), took over the idea of a single omniscient god, who was also able to become flesh and blood and walk on the earth (and on water too, which image reflects Babylonian iconography). All the other gods became, in the end, falsehoods, demons, devils, and in the pages of Tertullian, a species of fornication, which he reckoned to be the principal nature of sin, which embraced all others.

Hence the antipathy to astronomy, and the gods from cultures who foolishly embraced a multiplicity of them. Despite the fact that, the Christian scriptures, as well as the Hebrew ones, are full of astronomical and mythological imagery, and characters who were once understood to have their essential reality in the sky. 



Monday, 25 June 2018

Books by Thomas Yaeger at Bargain Prices in the Smashwords Summer/Winter Sale!


10th Annual Smashwords 2018 Summer/Winter Sale!

July 1, 2018 - July 31, 2018

All three of my books sold through Smashwords will be heavily discounted during the month of July, so this is a chance to pick up a bargain! The catalog for the sale goes live at one minute past midnight on July 1 Pacific time, and expires 11:59pm on July 31. Clicking on the image of each book's cover below will take you through to the Smashwords page for it. Clicking on the title will taken you to a blog page giving further details.

During the sale period the price at Smashwords is the discounted price. Prices at Itunes, Barnes & Noble, Blio, etc. are not discounted.


The Sacred History of Being (2015), is available during the sale period at 75% off the full Smashwords price!


Formerly argued by classical scholars to have been first discussed by the ancient Greeks in the middle of the first millennium B.C.E., the articulate concept of Being can now be traced as far back as the middle of the second millennium, and the state of Assyria. 
The Greeks themselves had several stories about the origins of philosophy, a discipline which essentially deals with abstractions, including that it originated elsewhere, but that is not the received narrative. The consequence of this, is that all historians of ideas, when constructing their accounts of the intellectual development of man before the arrival of Parmenides and Plato, have had to negotiate the Greek invention of philosophy, and the corollary, that articulate discussion of the abstract concept 'Being' didn’t happen before this.

This can now be shown to be a faulty understanding, resulting in many absurdities. The Old Testament has examples where God declares his identity with Being itself (‘I am that I am’, better translated into English as ‘I am that which is,’ and ‘I am the first, and I am the last; and beside me there is no God', for example), but these are not regarded by scholars as evidence of a sophisticated discourse around the idea of Being. Instead these statements indicate inchoate ‘notions’ about the nature of god, rather than anything more profound. The statement in Malachi, however, that 'I do not change', is an explicitly philosophical understanding of the nature of God.
Published by the Anshar Press.  

Reader responses to The Sacred History of Being are documented by the Rolling Thunder page.


J.G. Frazer and the Platonic Theory of Being (2016) Is available during the sale period at a 50% discount from Smashwords.


When he was only twenty-four years old, James Frazer won a Cambridge fellowship with an essay on the development of Plato's theory of the Forms or Ideas (eidos). In this essay he argued that there was no overarching theory of Being in Plato's mind before he embarked on the writing of his dialogues, and that consequently differences in approach and discussion apparent in his work are the result of the development of his thought. He also argued that the very idea of Being is a barren notion, in that nothing can be predicated of Being. As a result Plato made a mistake, effectively conflating an epistemology with an ontology. 
Though the essay was written in 1879, it was not published until 1930, after much of his later work was done. Frazer became famous for his monumental study The Golden Bough, which explored a vast range of ancient and primitive myth and ritual. Here too he found intellectual processes founded in error. What was Frazer's intention in re-interpreting Plato against what Plato himself said, and his wholesale restructuring of ancient thought by reducing much of it to a pattern of error?
In sixteen sections, with prefaratory material and a conclusion. Over 23 thousand words, a preface, select bibliography, and extensive notes. Published Spring 2016 by the Anshar Press.  
A couple of related blog posts explore J.G. Frazer's discussion of Plato, and the implications for the writing of The Golden Bough. The two articles are synthesised together in a third article: Frazer and the Association of Ideas.



Understanding Ancient Thought (2017), is available during the sale period at 75% off the full Smashwords price!



Understanding Ancient Thought is the third in a series of books which examines how we assess evidence from antiquity, and frame models to make sense of that evidence.  
The book consists of eighteen essays, which cover a number of subject areas which are in thrall to what Foucault described as an ‘episteme’. In other words, the way the subject areas are understood within the academy is in terms of what our cultural models, language and assumptions will allow us to understand. The actual evidence may suggest an alternative view, but it is not possible to see it, or to think it. At least until the paradigmatic frame shifts to another ‘episteme’.  
The main thrust of the book is that two hundred years of modern scholarship concerning the past has, for the most part, assembled a fictive and tendentious version of the ancient world. 51 thousand words. Published by the Anshar Press, 
*** 

Thomas Yaegers next book, Man and the Divine: New light on Man's Ancient Engagement with God and the History of Thought, is expected to be available in August, at full price, shortly after the Smashwords sale concludes. Published by the Anshar Press. ISBN 9780463665473. It is now available to pre-order at Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/872542. Publication date August 12, 2018.





Many of the essays deal with the question of esoteric knowledge in antiquity, often from slightly different angles. Essays include:
The Enlightenment of David Hume.  Though Hume's empirical approach was not wholly successful, some of his intuitions expanded our collective understanding of how we perceive reality – for example, his insight that we have no actual knowledge of the process of causation at all, and only a customary expectation of causal process, was a powerful one. We can describe causal processes, we can differentiate the nature of different causal processes, and we can formulate rules in connection with them, but we cannot know how causality itself operates, or even be sure that a perceived causal relation, often observed before, will obey the implicit rule the next time it is under scrutiny by us. However, it is no longer clear that Hume was exploring his mental processes and understanding entirely within the framework of western secular thought. This chapter is based on intriguing research by Alison Gopnik. 
Richard Dawkins and Deism. Modern atheism is actually dependent for its nature on the ontological argument, and the terms in which it is framed. Meaning that eight hundred years of argument about the nature and existence of God underpins the point of view of those who regard themselves as atheists. Dawkins makes a distinction in ‘The God Delusion’ between theism and deism. Theism is a pattern of belief which enshrines the idea that the Divine is responsive to man, and his rituals of worship and prayer. It is a pattern of belief dependent on the idea that God can act in the world.  By contrast, deism contemplates the idea that a creator God has existence, and necessarily created the world, but that he is not active in the physical world beyond that. This essay argues that Dawkins is in fact a modern deist rather than an atheist. 
Mathematics and Geometry.  The process of separating ourselves from an interpretation of the world in terms of simple apprehension is driven initially by the practical necessities of our existence. But this process does not need to stop there. Intelligence consists in being able to adjust the categories of our understanding so that we do not mistake one thing for another. It is a mental development which might have no end. This is essentially how Kant understood human intellectual development, which he framed (in his Prolegomena) in terms of a general theory of a priori concepts, not based on empirical sense data, or even a mathematical or geometric understanding of anything in the world. 
Evading the Infinite.  This chapter is a critical response to Adrian W. Moore's radio series 'The History of the Infinite', broadcast in the autumn of 2016, and his book 'The Infinite', published in the early 90s. His treatment of the subject hardly references Plato at all. Adding Plato to the discussion changes the way in which the argument should be framed. The actual infinite is the principal source of ancient ideas concerning the divine, not Aristotle's potential infinite, so Moore's argument concerning our knowledge of God is forced to take refuge in the quasi-mystical Calvinistic idea of a 'sensus divinitatis'. His argument also makes it impossible to understand Kant's treatment of religion. 
The Esoteric Conception of Divinity in the Ancient World.  In my twenties, I was struck by the strong interest the ancients had in the idea of limit – in art, architecture, philosophy, and ritual. This interest did not much seem to engage modern scholarly attention, with a couple of notable exceptions. Initially I had no idea at all what the significance of the idea of limit might be, and no idea where pursuing it would take me. Or that it would lead to a book it would take me four years to write, and which would reframe my understanding of human intellectual history in the process. 
Unwritten Doctrine, Ancient Silence. It is often assumed by students of antiquity that there is no special importance to be attached to remarks that certain items of information are to be kept secret and not imparted to the unworthy, and to the ordinary mortal. This assumption is based on the presumption that there was, and is not, anything about which it is impossible to speak of, before those not used to dealing with information about religion and the divine. This is a curiosity of modern times, in that the ignorance of theology among the moderns makes it impossible for them to credit the importance of theology in antiquity -  both to those who understood its subtleties and and those who didn’t. 
What is Sacred, and what is Profane?  Each of the divine names of Marduk, the head of the Mesopotamian pantheon,  has a description, and each of the lesser gods can be understood as abstractions of aspects of the rational creation. They represent excellences in the world. Marduk represents the sum total of these. This is the clue to understanding much of the ancient understanding of what the divine is. Each described excellence resembles reality itself in terms of its properties. The excellence may serve social functions, as does a skill or specialism, but it should be performed for its own sake. The performance of these excellences recalls the perfection and completeness of the plenum, and reinforces the presence of the divine in the world.  
Intentionality, Conjecture, and What is Holy. Intentionality explains why the ancients created a multiplicity of gods. If the divine itself cannot by definition be completely defined and understood, at least certain properties and attributes can be understood. These can therefore be defined and named as ways of accessing the divine. This does not at all conflict with the idea that the reality of the divine is in question. Instead this view argues that there is in fact a subjective component in the reality of the divine, at least insofar as it is possible for us to have commerce with it. 
Excellence and the Knowledge of Divine Things. Plutarch opens his life of Alexander with a cheerful complaint about the sheer extent of the materials available to him to write on Alexander. So the details which are in his essay are there because he regarded them as important in showing Alexander’s character, his disposition, and the content of his mind. On the basis of his sources he says that it is thought that Alexander was taught by Aristotle not only his doctrines of Morals and Politics, but also those more abstruse mysteries which are only communicated orally and are kept concealed from the vulgar: for after he had invaded Asia, hearing that Aristotle had published some treatises on these subjects, he wrote him a letter in which he defended the practice of keeping these speculations secret. 
Cultural Continuity in the Ancient World, and Bernal’s Black Athena. Martin Bernal’s intention was to take ancient Greece out of its exalted orbit above all other civilizations, and root it in what he assumed to have been a cultural continuum around the Mediterranean sea from at least the mid-2nd century B.C.E up until the classical period of Greece in the 5th and 4th centuries B.C.E. Bernal pointed to the evidence within the texts of the 1st millennium which suggested cultural continuities with ancient Egypt – all dismissed by the classicists in favour of evidence in texts which could be interpreted as suggesting the opposite. Bernal’s attempts to establish cultural continuity with the civilizations around the Mediterranean were hampered by the fact that myths are not simply encodings of historical and political change, and that the exchange of words between linguistic groups is, by itself, weak evidence for cultural continuity.  He was correct to guess at the existence of the cultural continuity, I think, but ill-equipped to establish such a thing. 




Thursday, 31 May 2018

'I and Thou'. Anthropology and the Presumption of Primitive Intellectual Error in Antiquity.



[This is a section from Thomas Yaeger’s book J. G. Frazer and the Platonic Theory of Being, published by the Anshar Press in April 2016.]


4.1. The problem of the authentic Socrates may reside mainly with ourselves: we make a clear distinction between ethical issues and matters of ontology. A proper reading of Aristotles's Ethics however, shows quite clearly that ethical issues were not distinguished in this way by Plato's pupil. The anabasis of the soul described in that work implies at the least a metaphorical emulation of the condition of the divine*[37]. The whole universe is conceived by Aristotle as a moral hierarchy from insect to the Good, and we do well to recall the passage in the Timaeus where Plato speaks of a similar hierarchy, ascended and descended according to the moral worth of the individual in life:

...by virtue of necessity... their bodies are subject to influx and efflux, [and] these results would necessarily follow, - firstly sensation that is innate and common to all proceeding from violent effections; secondly, desire mingled with pleasure and pain; and besides these, fear and anger and all such emotions as are naturally allied thereto, and all such as are of a different and opposite character. And if they shall master these they will live justly, but if they are mastered unjustly. And he that has lived his appointed time well shall return again to his abode in his native star, and shall gain a life that is blessed and congenial; but whoso has failed therein shall be changed into woman's nature at the second birth; and if, in that shape, he still refraineth not from wickedness he shall be changed every time, according to the nature of his wickedness, into some bestial form after the similitude of his own nature...*[38].

 4.2. It has been argued, essentially following the Frazerian model of antiquity, [Before Philosophy, Henri Frankfort, et al.] that, among ancient cultures the world was conceived as a place populated entirely by entities, so that relation with the things in the world was essentially understood in terms of "I" and "Thou": subject and object, whether animate or inanimate, were understood to belong to the same generic category. But this presumes - for reasons which seem quite sound to us - that in fact the subjective and objective worlds are generically different. Thus, it would seem that to parallel epistemological processes with ontological ones must be to make an error. The implication of this view is that, at best, the ancients failed to formalise the difference between the two realms, and, at worst, that such a distinction never occurred to them.

4.3. If it is true that the ancients never came to grips with the distinction between the realms of the subjective and the objective, and therefore the distinction between the animate and inanimate, then it must follow that the ancient perception of the nature of the world must have been altogether in error (to which Wittgenstein objected), and the earliest part of human history may be legitimately characterized, with Frazer, as a childhood. The supposed failure to distinguish between the processes of the subjective and objective realms means that we can read the past as a struggle for the acquisition of the skill to do so: all arguments form part of an unplanned sequence, a blind upward groping toward the light of understanding. Whereas if the yoking of the subjective and objective realms owes its origin to the reasoned idea of the final cause, the concept of a final completeness of the world in which everything has its place and function, then we cannot with confidence interpret dialectical arguments or the evidence of human activity in antiquity as part of a blind anabasis, an improvised ascent to a rational understanding. This for the simple reason that these arguments and actions took place within a context in which the basic rational frame was already taken for granted. The importance of this is hard to overstate.

4.4. For now, the attempt to disinter the evidence for the unwritten history of the final cause as an idea is close to impossible: for, though the idea of the final cause might be admitted in the writings of earlier authors (Herodotus, Histories, Bk. I.30-33, already quoted, much of Homer, etc.), it is not understood to be intimately bound up with the view of reality which emerges from the Platonic corpus. Hence, evidence of the earlier history of the idea of the final cause is not of itself evidence for Platonism as a body of work emerging from an older pattern of ideas. Instead, the final cause is treated by critics as a traditional element within a radical programme of inquiry. By contrast, I argue that the Platonic teaching was not an exploration of reality by means of dialectical enquiry involving the use of traditional elements; but that Plato crossed well-rehearsed territory, probably with arguments more or less of his own construction.

 ----------

[37] interestingly, in defining the action of the gods as passive contemplation, Aristotle reproduces the extreme Parmenidean form of Plato's Ideal theory, in which the Form of the Good is unchanging and unchangeable. In Bk. X of the Ethics Aristotle characterizes the activity of the divine as contemplation. The gods are living beings from whom all forms of activity have been removed. "...if a being lives, and action cannot be ascribed to him,... what remains but contemplation? It follows, then, that the divine life, which surpasses all others in blessedness, consists of contemplation". (Nic. Eth. X. 8. 7., F. H. Peters trans.) [38] Tim. 42a-c


Monday, 9 April 2018

Before Anthropology




[This is a short chapter from my forthcoming book, The Origins of Transcendentalism in Ancient Religion]

***

Much of the discussion of ancient religion is from an anthropological perspective, so it makes sense to look first at the development of anthropological writing. The first chapter of Eriksen and Nielsens, A History of Anthropology (2001) gives a general account of what they call ‘proto-anthropology’, covering the period from Herodotus up to the European Enlightenment.

It is beyond doubt, however, that anthropology, considered as the
science of humanity, originated in the region we commonly refer to
as ‘the West’, notably in four ‘Western’ countries: France, Britain,
the USA and Germany. Historically speaking, this is a European
discipline, and its practitioners, like those of all European sciences,
occasionally like to trace its roots back to the ancient Greeks.*1

Eriksen and Nielsen begin their account of the history of anthropology with Herodotus, who is the earliest writer on other societies whose work is mostly still extant. They know that Herodotus is sometimes unreliable as a witness to the nature of foreign cultures, so they don’t spend a lot of time discussing his work, or the possible reasons some of his accounts are untrustworthy. Herodotus was constructing his history according  to a number of precepts. Apart from his concern with the nature of fame, the one everyone knows about is the long conflict with the Persians, which continued after his death. His stated purpose was to write the story of the conflict, and to provide a background to the conflict. Another one is his presumption that the nature of people and cultures is geographically determined. People in the north, south, east and west are different from each other on that account. If it is hot in one place and cool in another, they will be different from each other. Those somewhere in the middle (i.e., Greece) possess a more balanced nature as individuals, and also in cultural terms.

We could ask where this geographic determinism comes from. The question is rarely asked. The answer to the question, which will be discussed later, is very revealing.

 The Greeks are singled out as being conscious of foreign peoples and societies as something ‘other’, which is a term which often appears in anthropological writing. There are two ways to approach something which is ‘other’ however:

Many Greeks tested their wits against a philosophical paradox
that touches directly on the problem of how we should relate to
‘the Others’. This is the paradox of universalism versus relativism.
A present-day universalist would try to identify commonalities and
similarities (or even universals) between different societies, while
a relativist would emphasise the uniqueness and particularity of
each society or culture. The Sophists of Athens are sometimes
described as the first philosophical relativists in the European
tradition….

This is true not only for anthropologists, but true for most human beings. It is possible to look in two opposite directions – to what is universal, and to what is particular. And sometimes to see-saw between them, according to circumstances. We function within mental paradigms, open to some categories of what is important and can be understood, and closed to some others. What we see is what it is possible to see with the mental and cultural apparatus we have. And none of these apparatuses are universal in the human population.

The authors conjure a scene, drawn from two famous dialogues by Plato (427-347 BCE), the Gorgias and the Protagoras, in which Socrates is in argument with the Sophists:

We may picture them in dignified intellectual battle, surrounded by 
colourful temples and solemn public buildings, with their slaves scarcely 
visible in theshadows between the columns. Other citizens stand as spectators,
while Socrates’ faith in a universal reason, capable of ascertaining
universal truths, is confronted by the relativist view that truth will
always vary with experience and what we would today call culture.

Which is not the way either Plato or Socrates would have characterised the conflict between their view and the view of the Sophists. The Sophists were interested in the money that their rhetorical skills could bring them, and Plato said they argued to make the worse cause appear the better.  From the point of view of Plato and Socrates, the choice between addressing universals and particulars was not a valid choice at all. The pursuit of what was universal was the way to knowledge of what was true; the opposite was to separate one thing from another, and as a consequence, nothing true could be discovered. Eriksen and Neilsen point out that:

Plato’s dialogues do not deal directly with cultural differences.
But they bear witness to the fact that cross-cultural encounters
were part of everyday life in the city-states.

And they are done with Plato. Aristotle’s contribution to the development of anthropology is not quite so brief, but it is clear that though Aristotle 384-322 BCE) sought to describe and understand difference in the world, his interest is also in universals. The Greeks were always concerned with both however, since the philosophical process known as dialectic was based on the identification of what was the same, and what was different. The process is illustrated very clearly in the early part of Plato’s Sophist.

In his philosophical anthropology he (Aristotle)
discusses the differences between humans in general and animals,
and concludes that although humans have several needs in common
with animals, only man possesses reason, wisdom and morality.
He also argued that humans are fundamentally social by nature. In
anthropology and elsewhere, such a universalistic style of thought,
which seeks to establish similarities rather than differences between
groups of people, plays a prominent role to this day.

 However they concede that:

it seems clear that anthropology has vacillated up through history
between a universalistic and a relativistic stance, and that central
figures in the discipline are also often said to lean either towards
one position or the other.

Which is perhaps an admission that there is something problematic in the discipline of anthropology. Or perhaps there is something problematic and troubling in the human engagement with the world in general.

After a brief interlude after the collapse of the ancient world, and a few remarks about Arab scholarship during the long dark ages in Europe, the authors pick up their narrative in the early fifteenth century CE:

The ‘Age of Discovery’ was of crucial importance for later
developments in Europe and the world, and – on a lesser scale
– for the development of anthropology. From the Portuguese
King Henry the Navigator’s exploration of the West coast of
Africa in the early fifteenth century, via Columbus’ five journeys
to America (1492–1506), to Magellan’s circumnavigation of the
globe (1519–22), the travels of this period fed the imaginations of
Europeans with vivid descriptions of places whose very existence
they had been unaware of. These travelogues, moreover, reached
wide audiences, since the printing press, invented in the mid-fifteenth
century, soon made books a common and relatively inexpensive
commodity all over Europe.

Of course these expeditions were not scientific, but about power money and resources. They were also about fame, which could easily come from such expeditions. It is hard to write truthfully when you are writing a testament to your own glory, and to the glory of the king who paid for the expedition. Even if you could grasp some aspects of the nature of the culture around you. And so:

Many of the early travelogues from the New World were full
of factual errors and saturated with Christian piety and cultural
prejudices. A famous example is the work of the merchant and
explorer Amerigo Vespucci, whose letters describing his voyages to
the continent that still bears his name were widely circulated at the
time….  Occasionally, Vespucci seems to use the Native Americans
as a mere literary illustration, to underpin the statements he makes
about his own society. Native Americans are, as a rule, represented
as distorted or, frequently, inverted reflections of Europeans: they
are godless, promiscuous, naked, have no authority or laws; they are
even cannibals! Against this background, Vespucci argues effectively
for the virtues of absolutist monarchy and papal power, but his
ethnographic descriptions are virtually useless as clues to native
life at the time of the Conquest.

Not all of the accounts were bad, however. They point out that:

…contemporaries of Vespucci, such as the French
Huguenot Jean de Léry and the Spanish clergyman Bartolomé de
las Casas, who gave more truthful and even sympathetic accounts of
Native American life, and such books also sold well. But then, the
market for adventure stories from distant climes seems to have been
insatiable in Europe at this time. In most of the books, a more or less
explicit contrast is drawn between the Others (who are either ‘noble
savages’ or ‘barbarians’) and the existing order in Europe (which
is either challenged or defended).

The philosopher John Locke collected and read many of these more sympathetic books about the New World. He was opposed to the ideas of his contemporary Thomas Hobbes, who famously described human life as ‘nasty. Brutish, and short’. He preferred the idea of the noble savage to the barbarian. Though he did not discuss any of these accounts in his public writing. The books were found in his study after his death.

Eriksen and Neilsen concede that:

the legacy of these early, morally ambiguous accounts still weighs
on contemporary anthropology, and to this day, anthropologists
are often accused of distorting the reality of the peoples they write
about – in the colonies, in the Third World, among ethnic minorities
or in marginal areas. And, as in Vespucci’s case, these descriptions
are often denounced as telling us more about the anthropologist’s
own background than about the people under study.


The authors discuss the responses of European philosophers to the discovery of the New World, including Montaigne, Descartes, and John Locke. Some of their ideas have connections with anthropological thought from a later period. But they concede that anthropology is still some way beyond these important figures. It had been the case since antiquity that:

Exotic peoples had been described normatively (ethnocentrism) or
descriptively (cultural relativism). The question had repeatedly been
raised whether people everywhere and at all times are basically the
same (universalism) or profoundly different (relativism). There had
been attempts to define the difference between animals and humans,
nature and culture, the inborn and the learned, the sensual body and
the conscious mind. Many detailed descriptions of foreign peoples
had been published; some were based on meticulous scholarship.
In spite of these continuities, we maintain that anthropology as a
science only appeared at a later stage, though it is true that its birth
was a more gradual process than is sometimes assumed. Our reasons
for this are, first, that all the work mentioned so far belongs to one
of two genres: travel writing or social philosophy. It is only when
these aspects of anthropological enquiry are fused, that is, when
data and theory are brought together, that anthropology appears.

Fair enough. Though I regard social and cultural anthropology as arts subjects for the most part, rather than science (though in physical anthropology and archaeology there is a great deal of actual science). And then Eriksen and Neilsen make an extraordinary statement, which I’ve italicised.

Second, we call attention to the fact that all the writers mentioned
so far were influenced by their times and their society. This is of
course true of modern anthropologists as well. But modern anthropologists
live in a modern world, and we argue that anthropology
makes no sense at all outside a modern context. The discipline is a
product, not merely of a series of singular thoughts such as those
we have mentioned above, but of wide-ranging changes in European
culture and society, that in time would lead to the formation of
capitalism, individualism, secularised science, patriotic nationalism
and cultural reflexivity.

What on earth does that mean? Is this meant to imply that because anthropologists live in a modern world, they are more capable of detachment and objectivity than those who lived in earlier times? Or are they saying that it has a function in the modern world, which it did not and could not have had when thoughts were largely singular and could never become part of a consensus view and an agreed reality?  They say a little later:

…we have seen that the encounter with ‘the Other’ stimulated European
intellectuals to see society as an entity undergoing change and growth,
from relatively simple, small-scale communities, to large, complex
nations. But the idea of development or progress was not confined
to notions of social change. The individual, too, could develop,
through education and career, by refining his personality and finding
his ‘true self’ …  Only when the free individual was established as
‘the measure of all things’ could the idea of society as an association
of individuals put down roots and become an object of systematic
reflection. And only when society had emerged as an object to be
continuously ‘improved’ and reshaped into more ‘advanced’ forms
could the independent, rational individual change into something
new and different, and even ‘truer to its nature’. And without an
explicit discourse about these ideas, a subject such as anthropology
could never arise. The seeds were sown in early modern philosophy,
important advances were made in the eighteenth century, but it
was only in the nineteenth century that anthropology became an
academic discipline, and only in the twentieth century that it attained
the form in which it is taught today.

It is worth seeing it spelled out as clearly as that. In the minds of the authors the modern world is only possible because anthropology (as they understand it) is an explicit discourse about ideas of the improvement of the free individual, who is ‘the measure of all things’. As the authors said earlier, sometimes anthropologists are denounced for what they write, on the basis that it tells us more about the anthropologist’s own background, than about the people under study. 


1.Thomas Hylland Eriksen and Finn Sivert Nielsen A History of Anthropology Second Edition, 2001


Tuesday, 3 October 2017

Frazer and the Association of Ideas



[There are two articles about J. G. Frazer's work already on this site. This article combines the argument of both of these, and illustrates an approach to ancient and primitive thought which must inevitably miss the target.  Thomas Yaeger, October 3, 2017].

***

In the 1980s, I read the two-volume version of The Golden Bough, miraculously reduced from thirteen volumes by the expedient of removing all the footnotes, and was struck by the absence of any discussion of a relationship between magical patterns of thought and ideas of divinity and Being. I knew about the existence of this relationship principally from an interest in Platonism in the European Renaissance. But there was a puzzling absence of discussion of these ideas. In The Golden Bough, patterns of magical thought are discussed in terms of the association of ideas; as a phenomenon of human thought, rather than as something which is a corollary of a model of reality.

Frazer was a disciple of John Locke, who originated the idea of the association of ideas, and he understood the functioning of the human mind in such terms. His earlier criticism of Plato is largely along the lines that, since he did not have this understanding of the nature of mind, he mistakenly converted an epistemology into an ontology. Since having the capacity to think of a thing and give it a name, does not give it reality, Plato had made a fundamental error.

Frazer also shared Locke’s interest in the progress of man, and imagined that the technical and industrial production of the British Empire represented how far the human race had come. Philosophy for Frazer was about practical things. It is clear in the text of The Golden Bough that the idea of progress was seen by him in two ways - he drew a parallel between the gulf between the ideas of the ancients and of modern man, and the social and intellectual conditions in contemporary society, where the intellectual difference between those at the top and those at the bottom was likely to be just as great. In both cases, we should find frightful things, if we dig down deep.

Finding and providing explanations for both the existence and the nature of those frightful things was a major part of his work. He wanted to put unbridgeable distance between ourselves, the inheritors of enlightenment rationalism, and the ancient cultures whose ways of understanding the world were based on intellectual error. And that intellectual error he in part explained in The Golden Bough, treating magical thought entirely in terms of ideas of sympathy and contagion, or the faulty association of ideas in the ancient mind.

Did Frazer not know about the relationship between magic and the idea of Being? He was extremely well read, as his work testifies, so this is hard to believe.

Leaving out of The Golden Bough any consideration of the idea of magic as something whose nature depended on the nature of Being was a choice he made. It was not a choice forced on him by the evidence.

In writing The Golden Bough Frazer was transforming ancient thought about the world and its underlying reality into examples of intellectual error, and by the parallels he made with ‘savage’ thought, through his definition of magic, he sealed the case against the thought of the ancient world. Frazer did this by writing a thirteen-volume implicit denial that magic had ever been an idea associated with the idea of Being. Though the elephant in the room (Being) was never directly discussed.

The agenda of the classicists from the outset of the (mainly German) professionalization of the discipline in the middle of the eighteenth century, was, in part, to recast the significance of classical Greece, and classical thought. They wanted to render Greek civilization as something distinctly European, and not something belonging to the cultural orbit of the east. This meant a purification of sorts, an alchemical transformation of the cultural realities in classical Greece.

This purification necessarily involved a degree of fabrication, a falsification of the actual nature of Classical Greece. Aspects of the history of this falsification were discussed in Martin Bernal’s Black Athena of 1987, which had the word ‘fabrication’ in the subtitle. A large number of features of classical civilization could not be outright denied, since they were very common in the body of evidence. The worship of divine statues could not be questioned or denied; sacrifice was a regular feature of importance in public and private life, performed at every important juncture. Magic likewise, was a feature of ancient life at all levels of society.

However classical civilization could be purified in part by changing the interpretation of how these things came to have significance to the ancient Greeks. The answer was plain: the Greeks were prone to a degree of irrationality in their public and private lives. So, the divine statue of a god as a place inhabited by the divine was a mistake, possibly the result of failing to distinguish between the image of a thing, and the thing itself. The idea of the reality of the plethora of gods themselves was also a mistake, where the Greeks converted ideas of natural forces and powers into personifications of these things. Likewise, all the other strange practices could be ascribed to an irrationality, a primitive stupidity, for which the Germans have a very ugly word.

Frazer was a late contributor to this process of purification. But in writing The Golden Bough, he applied Locke’s theory of the association of ideas to the relatively new subject of anthropology. So, the strange beliefs were ascribed to a failure to distinguish between things which had the appearance of similarity, but were in fact different, or to a mistaken notion of contagion, in which things which were once in contact, are understood to be still in contact (the lock of hair, the parings of fingernails, etc.)

All ritual action throughout history could thus be explained as intellectual error, along with the very idea of the sacred. Even now, patterns of behaviour and belief are understood by anthropologists in terms of the product of intellectual associations, which may be the outcome of local cultural social dynamics, or even some kind of pathological response to the world. They aren’t looking for a rational explanation for ritual and sacred phenomena arising from an idea of Being.

By the process of purification, it became possible to argue that the real achievement of the Greeks could be understood in terms of the quality of their philosophical thought; and the interpretation of their sculpture, along with their architecture, in terms of aesthetics and proportion. Their literature and language could be appreciated in terms of style. All of which could be approached with minimal taint from the irrationality of other aspects of Greek culture.

Most readers of Frazer read The Golden Bough, and none of his other writings. At the time, I knew of no other works. I wondered what else he had written, and if he had perhaps discussed the idea in another book. In which case, the omission of a discussion of Being in The Golden Bough might be explained. Since I’m discussing thoughts about Frazer which occurred to me in 1987, there was no internet to search, so I did a trawl through his publications in the catalogue of the National Library of Scotland (I was living in Edinburgh at the time).

And there it was in the catalogue: The Growth of Plato’s Ideal Theory. A slim book emerged shortly afterwards from the stacks, first published in 1930, close to the end of his long career.

Frazer wrote this text as an essay in 1879, to compete for a fellowship at Cambridge. He won, and it is not surprising that he did. The essay is an extraordinary piece of work, and a tour-de-force by a twenty-four year old. It was clear from a cursory study of it that he knew the texts of Plato inside out.

Plato of course represents the nominal beginning of the articulate discussion of Being in the western tradition. Frazer certainly did know something of the history of the idea of Being, and the importance it formerly had in the ancient world. And long before he began to write The Golden Bough.

The mystery had deepened. He knew Plato’s arguments about Being and the importance of these for a philosophical understanding of the world. And he also knew, or should have known, that Plato had defined two different kinds of magic in the Laws, one of which was explicitly drawn from the idea of Being itself. He ought to have noticed the crucial passage (XI, 933), where Plato clearly distinguishes between two levels of magic, and the penalties for each:

...it is not easy to know the nature of all these things; nor if a man do know can he readily persuade others to believe him. And when men are disturbed in their minds at the sight of waxen images fixed either at their doors, or in a place where three ways meet, or upon the sepulchres of parents, there is no use trying to persuade them that they should despise all such things because they have no certain knowledge about them... he who attempts to... enchant others knows not what he is doing... unless he happens to be a prophet or diviner.

There are three major themes in Frazer’s essay. The first of these themes is how the human mind understands objects and ideas which are presented to it. As already noted, he understood human thought in terms of the association of ideas, which was one of Locke’s major contributions to philosophy. As a consequence, when Plato spoke of ‘Being’ and related concepts, Frazer understood him to be falsely imagining that, what he could conceive of, therefore had some kind of objective reality; he was converting a discursive epistemology into a false ontology. Plato made this ‘mistake’ over and over again.

A second major theme of Frazer’s essay is the notion that Plato did not have a logically coherent and doctrinal definition of Being at the time he was writing his dialogues. Hence, the apparent changes in Plato’s point of view when dealing with questions concerning ultimate reality, can be explained in terms of a process of development. In short, he changed his mind, according to where he was in terms of his intellectual progress. As a result, much of Frazer’s essay is critically concerned with the contemporary discussion of the order in which the dialogues were composed. This order was supposed to be established on the basis of style, and the sequence in which various questions in the dialogues were discussed and apparently dismissed. One of these questions involved the plausibility or otherwise of what Frazer called ‘Plato’s Ideal Theory’ (his theory of the Forms). Then as now this procedure was inconclusive, and the order of dialogues proposed by Frazer is as problematic and unconvincing as any other which has been proposed.

The third theme does not occupy much space in his essay, since his conclusion is that the whole subject of the idea of Being is not worth discussing, since, as he says, ‘nothing can be predicated of Being’.

This is a staggering assertion, given the amount of words which have been written on the idea of Being over the past two and a half thousand years. Frazer takes his cue for this both from Locke’s doctrine of the association of ideas, and from the apparently unresolved questions about Being which appear in the Platonic dialogues. For Frazer, there is simply nothing to say on the question of the reality of Being.

This nearly clears up the mystery. But it leaves us with another mystery. It is one thing to come to the conclusion that nothing sensible can be said about the nature of Being; it is another to then entirely ignore the discussions about Being which had been taking place across the entire period of time covered by The Golden Bough, and also to ignore the fact that the nature of Being had in the past been understood to underpin ideas about magic and religion.

Not only did he not engage with these ideas, he wrote about the human race as if there never had been an idea of Being in support of the phenomenal aspects of human culture.

The consequence of this is that, for more than forty years, what Frazer was writing was a species of literary fiction, resulting from a Lockean reinterpretation of the evidence. Thus, The Golden Bough is essentially a study of human culture, with one of its most important and perennial features written out, and replaced with another understanding of how things came to have meaning: the idea that the vastness of human experience was, for the most part, built on mistaken notions of sympathy and contagion.

My first book, The Sacred History of Being, is in part a response to the writing out of this important aspect of human culture by Frazer, and those who came after, and focusses on the role of the idea of Being, or Reality itself, and what could be said of it; in Classical Athens, in archaic Greece, in Israel, and also in Ancient Assyria. The arguments were similar in each of these places, though beyond the culture of Greece, we often know this only indirectly, through literary themes, images, tropes, ritual texts, and iconography. It is a critical reconstruction of our intellectual history since the middle of the 2nd Millennium B.C.E.

[This article can be read as a prelude to Logical Modality in Classical Athens. Both of these are annotated chapters in Understanding Ancient Thought, which was published in August 2017.  Logical Modality in Classical Athens discusses a second logical modality present in the ancient world, in addition to the one discussed in Aristotle's writings. For one reason and another, it has remained invisible to modern scholarship, despite having been discussed (if a little enigmatically) in several ancient texts. TY, October 6, 2017]