Myth is a powerful and enduring irrational form of symbolism and magic that serves as a communal coping mechanism for a natural world that man cannot fully ken, in purpose or provenance—particularly as regards his physical extinction through death. Since the time of the Greeks, the Western world has increasingly built and expanded upon a societal and political foundation structured around reason and rational thought and tempered by the faith-bound limiting mores of Judaic monotheism—though, as we progressed towards the modern era, the ethical elements that formed a vital part of its origin thought tended towards a subsumption within the practical and the functional. With the Romantic reaction of the nineteenth century, we find declaredly ameliorative strains that, antipathetic to a perceived dehumanizing mechanical rationalism of the Post-Enlightenment thinkers, looked backwards in time—and to history, race, and the state as higher-tier operators upon civilized society—as a methodology of both finding truth and harnessing spiritual power against broad-based decline. As these two antinomic conceptions threaded their way into the twentieth century, the Enlightenment half was troubled by fatalistic and nihilistic infections, whilst the Romantic opposite flowered with an irrationality and mysticism long considered dormant and waning—the result being the murderous totalitarian systems which deftly combined elements of the pair, a living enactment of the dialectic that Hegel insightfully espied operating within society through historical progression. What we have learned is that myth cannot be eradicated, and tends to blossom within a culture as it is beset by chaos and instability—and so we need a countering philosophy that is confident in its embrace of reason and logic and our Enlightenment heritage such that it can answer the allure and promises of myth by providing support and direction to the societal branches—culture, art, politics, ethics—that have shown themselves acutely susceptible to myths' irrational and primordial siren song.
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TRANSCRIBED READING NOTES:
Myth as concentration and universalization of emotions, especially of fear (of death).
Myth is viewed in modern scholarship as rational philosophy versus irrational shamanism; a mere mistaken use of language and metaphor from a surfeit of synonyms. Cassirer says it is much more: fuller, richer. Myth was not about grouping the objects of potential mythological thought, but a symbolic way for man to order and make sense of what he feared and was in awe of while losing his individuality in a whole and reuniting him with gods and nature.
Greek dialectic between Sophist and Socratic thought proved a potent assault on myth—physiological and theological victories of rational thought in altering the interpretations of Nature and Religion (the gods). The Sophists delved into such on the periphery, rationalizing mythic forms; whereas Socrates sought to know the self, probe Man, and accepted (ie, dismissed) myths as irrelevant in relation to self-knowledge.
Plato on man seeing in the gods only a projection of his own life and disordered polities. The merit of Plato's political thought lies not in his answers, but rather the questions themselves. Plato's political innovation was the creation of a theoretical whole political system of ideals, the superiority of episteme, true knowledge, over doxa, common sense. Plato made efforts to define the ideal state by both hewing the enduring roots of myth, and hence tradition, which is ultimately foundationless, and Sophist realpolitik, whose hunger for power is insatiable. Justice, or the Just State embodies all the cardinal virtues of the soul; the Will to Power or power for its own sake, all of its defects. The Power State and the Mythological State cannot be Just States, which are balanced, harmonic, ideal, Good.
Augustine fully accepts Plato's Ideas and intelligible world, but objects to the terms of it. Medieval Christian thought combines Greek intellectualism with Jewish voluntarism to God's will. Everything derives from God and, if timeless and eternal, yet still in their origin from Him. Human reason is subordinated to human submission to God's will (and, hence, love). The Law comes from God. Plato sees a long road for the dialectician through geometry, stereometry, astronomy, mathematics, etc. to the Highest Good, the sensible to the intelligible—and the Good still cannot be fully known; whereas Augustine sees a short road in which the Good is revealed through the experience of God. God is not far from us, is not remote—He is immediately accessible and not solely to the likes of Plato's philosophers.
A truth that is not found by ourselves is not truth at all. Augustine made Greek ethics paramount within philosophy's epistemology, and held Socrates as divinely inspired against the latter's self-conception as a seeker without destination knowably reached. Augustine accepts the premises of Greek Philosophy while rejecting its conclusions.
Plato's Demiurge cannot be interpreted as the Christian God, nor either of these two to the Idea of Good; the Demiurge is an artificer, an efficient cause, an agent, while the Idea of Good is a formal cause, being, not becoming, as like truth to belief. We cannot worship the Idea of Good as a salvational deity, but envision it as an archetype of rational order and beauty. The intelligible world cannot produce phenomenal things. Neither can the Christian God be matched with that of Aristotle; for though the latter's was both efficient and formal cause, the First Mover and unmoved, he was inoculated against and unresponsive to human wishes; he was his only object of thought—intellectual and rarified. The Biblical God was moral law as will, He delivered Law and Truth; Greek logic demanded the latter be found by the dialectician. Reason versus Faith is thus the perduring split between the religious thought of the Greeks and the Jews.
To Platonic and Aristotelian ideals of justice, including classical society, regimented as was man's soul—ie, into rational, spiritual, appetitive parts—the Stoics added a new conception: the fundamental equality of man. The Stoic ordering of things in Nature (an ethical one, not physical as in Plato/Aristotle) and Humanitas, the equality of man, was largely influential upon, and wholly compatible with, the Christian theologians. Seneca and Cicero were more widely read in the early Middle Ages than was Aristotle.
To Christian ways of thinking, the State was good in its purpose, administration of justice, but bad in its origin, which arose from Original Sin, God setting man over men. Once again, religious dogma was diametrically opposed to Greek conceptions of the Polis. Human reason, being corrupt, cannot fully locate the City of God from revelation.
The realm of Grace is a myth untouchable; but as conceived from Plato to Augustine, the realms of Grace and Nature are separated by a gulf, and must be bridged. Society and Politics derive from man's fallen state, and so are inherently necessary evils. Thomas Aquinas changes this: God is the First Cause, but remote; Man must use reason and empirical senses to order his world and society. Second and Intermediary Causes are works of God, and thus share in his glory, no matter that they are finite, and are perfect within their own limitations: thus Aquinas fuses Grace and Nature, the intellectual world with the sensible world, the one upholding the other. Nature is good, and so is reason and sensible objects; all are part of Man's responsibility. We cannot rely on miracles or revelation, but rather make use of our freedom which is God's gift to the sensible world. The body is not an epistemological impediment, but necessary.
Machiavelli: The abomination was always mingled with a kind of admiration and fascination.
Modern histories tend to judge Machiavelli from our current relativism, making his work era-specific; but Machiavelli was interested in the statics, not in the dynamics of historical life. He looked for recurring features and universals applicable across all time. He wrote not for Italy, nor even for his own time period, but for the world—and the world listened to him. If we attempt to reduce Machiavelli to his personality and his specific era, we lose that he was the founder of a new science of politics that revolutionized the modern world.
The scholastics of the Middle Ages were guided by the Neo-Platonic conception of hierarchy, with God as First Cause devolving in motion downwards. The celestial heavens were privileged, eternal, of a higher order and perfect, timeless movement—whereas everything in the sublunar realm was perishable, degraded. This hierarchy was represented in the Church, via the chain of Pope to Cardinal and all the way down to lowly priest; and in the political sphere, going from emperor and king through to the serfs at the lowest tier. However, during the Renaissance, this hierarchical society was challenged and began to crumble.
Cassirer states that Machiavelli was the earliest expounder of the secular state: the old order of hierarchy and primogeniture and religious transcendence had been exposed and eclipsed in the Renaissance light. Machiavelli is only interested in pragmatic, secular rule that brings order and security and, really, glory. Religion, like everything else, is a tool to be used by the prince, who must rule only in a realistic manner, using logic and reason. It is the earliest foundational expression of the modern secular state, one wholly autonomous and of the earth, with practical results triumphing over morality.
Machiavelli left the state isolated from universal ties of religion and common culture, and this would prove dangerous when his theory—derived amid Italian petty states in the 15th century—was applied to the vast absolute states of the modern era. Machiavelli was a radical, detached from the humanity of his theories, which were analytical and disregarded the common good or good ends in pursuit of desired outcomes. He did not chasten evil actions committed by the prince, but only mistaken ones. There is a cold and unfeeling essence to such a political theory: Machiavelli neither defends nor attacks the good or the bad, but ever concerns himself solely with results.
Machiavelli was unconcerned with educating rulers, but merely with the acquisition and maintenance of power. While Machiavelli admired the virtú of the ancients, he held that it was gone in his age—all was corruption. A ruler who believed that Man was inherently good was doomed to being unseated. The effective prince must rule as half-man, half-beast. Machiavelli did not hold morality in contempt—just men of his own time. His political nature regretted such ruthlessness as he preached, but his philosophy demanded it. Good and just rulers are praiseworthy, but rare: and the people generally need to be forced to abide by the laws. Since virtue was extinguished in his time, so was the argument against The Prince: to bring order and stability, one must, above all, keep power.
Machiavelli created a techne, an art of politics, not just a science of the same. But although, like with Plato, his methods were universal in application, he treated the just and unjust state, the legitimate ruler and usurper as one and the same: he gave his advice cooly and dispassionately. As with a chemist, one cannot blame a crafter of political treatises for how they are applied—it is enough that he dispense his advice logically and competently. The ruler must perform like a physician: treat the illness early with corrective measures, and health can be restored.
The mythical element of fortune was something Machiavelli also strove to enable the prince to harness, while acknowledging such efforts could never be more than half-accomplished. The persistence of fortune is what rendered political science different from the Natural Science of Galileo. But Machiavelli's knowledge of human nature meant that he could, with poetic flourish, inveigle the prince to antithetical pairings to control her. The constancy of human and indeterminate inconstancy could allow the wise prince to be forearmed and forewarned.
The seventeenth century saw the lingering occult traces of the Renaissance thinkers subsumed in the full embrace of rational and logical thought: indeed, it was felt that ordered systemic causes and rules could be applied to such fields as politics and religion. The great thinkers of the era—Spinoza, Leibniz, Grotius, Hobbes, Locke, Pascal—used analysis and deduction as their tools of trade; they sought causes as well as essences, the why as much as the what, and they were not concerned with the historical essence of their subject, but rather its validity: structure, laws, constitution. In self-evident axioms they could reduce things to natural law and individual contracts in all relationships, even with God. And in this way, mystery and mysticism were drained from politics and the state and strained from a rationally-deduced set of natural and individual rights, obligations, and relationships between free wills. It is a rejuvenation of state ideals within political thought.
In the 18th century, political thought was paramount, but not original in theory; thinkers like Rousseau were more interested in political life than doctrine—the application of first principles to social life. The metaphysical systems of the 17th century gave way to actions, the forging of ideas into weapons for the political struggle.
Enlightenment vs. its romantic critics: The Enlightenment philosophers of the 17th century used the past as a guide, a means to a better end. In Natural Law and Rights they saw timeless truths of the human individual; they abhorred myth as a dark barbarism, unintelligible and an anachronism best left behind—in reason would life be made better today and ever better in the future. The Golden Age was awaiting the human race.
The Romantics felt the opposite: the Golden Age lay in the past, and in history and myth they found poetic truths that were more vibrant than the dry intellectualism of the seventeenth century Enlightenment and its revolutionary politics. Myth, language, poetry, art, history held the meaning of life—and the romantics yearned for the unity of Middle Age religion and culture in Europe. And while they were nationalistic, their nationalism was poetic in form, not political. They embraced their unique culture and universal human artistic soul through love, not hate. In their patriotism they valued each ethnicity's cultural variety, and they wished to preserve this, not conquer and impose their own upon it; so they made history and myth their ends, whereas the Enlightenment thinkers used the latter as means to improve politics and life through reason and intellectual endeavor. The Romantics deemed rights to be a fiction—each historical era bore its own ways for men to relate via political and social institutions, and allowance must be made for such particularism.
Thomas Carlyle contrasted and explored the everlasting yea versus the everlasting no: only in action and ethics, not speculative thought and metaphysics, are to be found the ways for overcoming doubt and negation—in a science of affirmation and reconstruction as against denial and destruction.
Carlyle's philosophy, particularly as expounded in On Heroes, has been blamed as the foundational thought of twentieth century totalitarianism and for society's proclivity for mass submission to a Führer. Carlyle saw History as a series of acts by Great Men, whose heroic characters inspire a form of divine worship in their followers/adorers. In such a way, Carlyle's idea of History is inseparable from his own personal life journey—a Lebensphilosophie is a living thing. To Carlyle, the truth of life is found in intuition, ethics, belief, actions, not in rational speculation that has no end because it can deliver no ends. He who loses a sense of the heroic, the world's mystic beauty becomes lost and preoccupied with the minutiae of doubt and negativity.
Carlyle embraced Goethe's Lebensphilosophie which was not a single ideology, but a unity of all—where life is doing, not thinking, for knowledge cannot tell you who you are and what is truth. Enlightenment speculation perforce led to a view of Nature as mechanistic, a system, something dead and inert to be manipulated and exploited. Only in deed, work, act—which are ethical at their roots—do we define ourselves and come to discover the truth and whole that eludes the rationalist trapped within his mind. The 18th century Enlightenment thinkers whom Carlyle decried but Goethe respected include Voltaire and Diderot and the Encyclopediasts. But because of his religious strands, Carlyle could not accept Goethe's pagan pantheism and dismissal of history as a fiction created by man from spirits of the past. Instead, he transplanted his ethic of Doing into history and found Heroism, the Hero, and the worship of the Men of Great Deeds of the past. For his metaphysic, Carlyle turned from Goethe to Fichte.
Fichte's metaphysic was a transcendental idealism where the material world was the theater of our moral will; unlike Enlightenment rationalists, who based their theories of rights on the fact of men being equals in reason, Fichte maintained that we are not all equal in practical reason, ie ethical peers—and those strongest in them were the Heroes who efforts brought about European civilization and greatness via history. But in all of this, Carlyle was neither a metaphysician nor arguing to convince; he was a psychological historian and declarative, ie, appealing to his reader' sentiments.
Cassirer says: But to charge Carlyle with all the consequences that have been drawn from his theory would be against all the rules of historical objectivity.
Carlyle was always more concerned with the individual than social forms, and stated that England must give up the Indian Empire rather than Shakespeare, if need such a choice be made. To Carlyle, might makes right, but this is a moral, not a physical force—and his concept of Heroes relegated lying, even that felt to be necessary, to the lowly state of a null act in the ethical field: propaganda would unfailingly negate whatever right it felt itself to be promoting and/or upholding. In toto, Carlyle believed that we must have Heroes, we must have belief, we must do in lieu of contemplation—but nothing in National Socialism would have served but to repel and dismay him: Hitler was no Carlylean Hero.