This was a long read, and this is a long review. I start by engaging with three ways Robertson frames the Enlightenment, then proceed topically by bolded topic.
The Enlightenment as a pursuit of happiness, as opposed to a hatred of the world. Robertson portrays the Enlightenment’s concern for happiness as a rejection of the Augustinian claim that we cannot obtain true happiness in this life. But how true is this, given that even Robertson admits that many Enlightenment thinkers were also skeptical of the endeavor? Additionally, rejecting Augustine and the medievals’ Christianizing of classical Eudaemonian ethics is rejecting a moral philosophy intimately concerned with human flourishing. The original impulse to study happiness is inherited from the tradition, and not a development away from it. It’s better to say that they rejected to orienting happiness in an otherworldly manner. An interesting thing to note is that as Enlightenment thinkers became more and more skeptical of achieving happiness in this life, they also became more and more irreligious.
The Enlightenment as an age of reason, as opposed to fear. Robertson is clear to say that it is not opposed to feeling (see next paragraph), but opposed to fear cultivated from religion. But even here to say the Enlightenment is an age of reason is backwards, for it is only an age of reason due to the age of feeling afterwards. There’s not a single other era of Western history before Romanticism that doesn’t place reason in the driving seat—that’s inherited by Plato and Aristotle. So even in the “age of fear” in the medieval era, it was still the age of reason. It’s more sensible to posit that the Enlightenment made Romanticism possible by rejecting the traditional way of looking at humanity through the lens of the primacy of reason. Though this might not have taken place at the start of the Enlightenment, the Enlightenment’s rejection of Aristotle effectively made possible Romanticism.
The Enlightenment as concerned with sympathy, as opposed to a cold rationalism. Thus, one main point of the book is to show how the Enlightenment thinkers actually cared very much about different emotions, especially sympathy. This was surprising and very informative for me. It was really the Enlightenment philosophers Shaftesbury, and then Hume that introduced this, even before Rousseau. (And it seems that Scottish common-sense realism was also in on this.) Thus, by the end of the eighteenth century, the Enlightenment was concerned more with emotions than with reason. Robertson also recounts a great episode when Hume basically adopted Rousseau, but Rousseau was paranoid that Hume was mistreating him. (Rousseau does give off Van Gogh vibes.) This also matched their public disagreement about whether humanity is improving, and whether society is good.
Erudition and practicality. What is very interesting is that many thinkers were polymaths. This was perhaps the last age of polymaths, before everything became specialized. In fact, we find many thinkers rejecting the amassing of theoretical knowledge; instead, one ought to do something practical. Thus, the chapter on “Practical Enlightenment,” where not only citizens, but also enlightened monarchs sought to practically improve the welfare of the people in their states.
Empiricism. It is incredible to see how influential Newton was to every single discipline. Although Newton’s principles were only originally applied to a limited set of natural experiments, Newton changed the way people viewed the world, and many other thinkers tried to put together empirical “closed systems” in their respective fields; thus, we get Newtonian economics, aesthetics, politics, etc. Yet Newton himself, it is revealed, took pains to prove his theories not only by empirical methods, but also by historical methods, trying to show that the ancient Egyptians and Moses knew about his findings (and then notably spending much time doing alchemy). It is also really interesting to see how different societies responded to first Cartesianism and then Newtonianism.
Religion. When it comes to religion, it seems that there is much that Robertson and I don’t see eye to eye. I want to just skip writing about this in the review, but the three or four chapters relating to different aspects of religion is part of the reason why I ended up enjoying this less than I would’ve. Instead of writing 10 pages about this, I’ll just list all the questions that I would disagree with Robertson on: Is religion based on fear? Is toleration in all of its varied forms a given? How much error is too much error (and thus requires no toleration)? And on what basis can you present human rights, if it is not founded on some religious basis? Is irreligiosity actually better than religiosity? Is making the Bible a “cultural object” instead of a “religious text” better for the Bible? Can Voltaire’s anti-Semitism seriously be defended and contextualized, but Luther’s not? Isn’t a neo-Stoic attitude toward death dehumanizing? I will let the reader answer these questions.
Kant. It is here that I want to turn to my new favorite guy: Immanuel Kant. At the end of almost every section in the book, Robertson tells about what Kant thought about the subject. It is usually in some ways counter what the Enlightenment was doing, but he always said in a brilliant way. Kant’s thoughts on religion, conservative sexual ethics, aesthetics, world peace, government, the improvement of society, etc. is all brilliant (even if I might disagree), leading me to really want to read Kant (except I probably won’t, because he is harder to read than even Aristotle).
Aesthetics. I want to dedicate a couple paragraphs on aesthetics. The split between an earlier Cartesian aesthetics in Neoclassical “ideal”ism and a later Newtonian aesthetics in empirical “consensus”ism, seems somewhat arbitrary, given that there is no evidence of Descartes or Newton influencing either side. Perhaps Neoclassicism’s interest in mimesis is more Plato than Descartes. Their logic is simple: imitate universals. Unfortunately, universals are found through particulars (Aristotle), so the Neoclassical aesthetes are wrong here. (But that doesn’t discount the existence of ideals). Thus, the section on taste goes from there to consensus theory, where beauty is just consensus—this is obviously an oversimplification. Then we have Hume’s objective subjectivism and Voltaire’s terrible theory, and then Kant, who just puts it so well: taste is universally subjective. Universal in that we all share the same faculty of judgment, and subjective in that everyone still has different judgments.
I learned, under “Genius” and then “Imitation,” that Tolkien’s idea of sub-creator is predated at least by Shaftesbury and Lessing, but has its true roots in Plotinus—this makes a lot of sense. By placing “genius” externally in the deity, we can “participate” in it, and call it genius, without calling ourselves God, like the Romantics ended up doing. “Beauty consists not in material objects but in the forming power that descends from divinity itself.” Of course, I’d rather be more Aristotelian and Pauline than Neo-Platonic, so I’d adopt Aristotle’s language of mimesis=poiesis (imitation is making), with the addition of the Pauline category of union with Christ. Kinda like how we imitate Christ as we are in Christ. This would need to be fleshed out more; someone has already done this probably. The “Art and Morality” section was also surprisingly good.
The discussion of genres is really thought-provoking. The section spoke about how the Enlightenment was the first time that all the fine arts (dancing, music, painting, sculpture, poetry, etc.) were put into one category and considered together. I want to argue that perhaps, this is not actually helpful. It’s more helpful to distinguish how they are different and accomplish different things, imo. Here a great quote though: “The object of painting is bodies existing alongside one another in space. The object of poetry is actions which succeed one another in time” (496). Novels particularizes time and space, and thus requires new events, new plots to tell, instead of the retelling of the same story (as done previously). Lyric poetry is expressive instead of imitative, and drama… what does drama do?
There is a whole lot more that the book talked about, but I don’t really have many great thoughts on them, because I never considered them in the first place: political theory, history-telling, sociology, revolutions, etc. But I do want to talk about one more thing: luxury. There was this ongoing debate over whether luxury was good or bad, because it was the first time in society where a large middle-class was forming and attaining luxuries. Some thinkers argued that luxuries made people slothful and lazy, causing the downfall of societies (like the Roman Empire), while others thought that there’s nothing wrong with luxury—in fact, it improved human standards of living and was good for people. I think this should still be an ongoing debate, at least for the Christian world. How comfortable should we be? How much luxury is too much luxury? At the end of the day, we are arguing over a gray area, but it is good for us to think critically about the way we live our lives. Perhaps a bit of discomfort might actually be beneficial for us.
The last thing I want to say is that the book does a good job considering high-level theoretical philosophy on its own terms, without determining historical progression and actions through the lens of theoretical philosophy. The French Revolution really was not that much influenced by the Enlightenment. And the political and social changes that happened during the era came from many people who did not care about the philosophes in Paris. I appreciate this mode of history-telling.