Showing posts with label David Lavery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label David Lavery. Show all posts

Sunday, January 31, 2021

Thoughts for the Day: Sunday 31 January 2021

 

The ideal subject of totalitarian rule is not the convinced Nazi or the convinced Communist, but people for whom the distinction between fact and fiction, true and false, no longer exist.


— Hannah Arendt


Descent takes a while. We grow down, and we need a long life to get on our feet.


Social theorists have a name for smart people motivated solely by greed and fear—“rational agents.” It turns out that a group consisting entirely of rational agents is incapable of cooperation. In particular, such people will never manage to put together a fighting troop.


Socrates, in fact, became the primary saint of the ethics of imperturbability in later Greek philosophy, the model on whom the Cynic and Stoic sophoi, or wise men, are based.

God is not a “being” at all, not even an infinite one. God is Be-ing in the sense that without God, nothing can be. The “being” of God is verbal and transitive‒ the being of God makes everything else be. God says “Be!” and things spring into existence.

Western psychiatric medicine is often hard to distinguish from pharmacology. Most antidepressants aim to suppress moods—to bring them into a narrow range of experience, removing both the highs and lows. We reduce symptoms of an affliction to make it invisible.

The ultimate end of an evolution of consciousness into self-consciousness is total self-consciousness: the movement is from potency to act, from passivity to power.




Saturday, October 17, 2020

Thoughts of the Day: Saturday 17 October 2020

 

                                            Fukuyama; more than just "The End of History"


Democracies exist and survive only because people want and are willing to fight for them; leadership, organizational ability, and oftentimes sheer good luck are needed for them to prevail.

Lister had said to his friend, “My dear Pasteur, every great benefit to the human race in every field of its activity has been bitterly fought in every stage leading up to its final acceptance.”
Young people, he says, are impatient, changeable, and appetitive—“and of the bodily appetites they are especially attentive to that connected with sex and have no control over it.”
Glucose consumption will make your pancreas release more insulin and make you gain weight, while fructose consumption will drive the accumulation of liver fat, causing insulin resistance, leading to chronic metabolic disease.
Professor Howard Fulweiler, in his essay, "The [Other] Missing Link: Owen Barfield and the Scientific Imagination," delivered at the 1983 Los Angeles MLA seminar on Owen Barfield, opens with a reference to Thomas Berger's novel, Little Big Man, in which the old Indian, Lodge Skins, tells his adopted grandson "that the Indians believe everything in the world is alive, while the white men think everything is dead." Had Barfield been there, he would have said that such mechanical thinking on the part of the white men was new, the result of something called the Scientific Revolution, which began a few centuries ago and which has given rise to philosophical and scientific hypotheses which separated mind from matter, man from nature, and doomed the reality of the spirit-world.
For each of these four kinds of mental balance, we will identify the “middle way” of homeostasis as the freedom from three kinds of imbalance: deficit, hyperactivity, and dysfunction.
We live in a world saturated with information. We have virtually unlimited amounts of data at our fingertips at all times, and we’re well versed in the arguments about the dangers of not knowing enough and not doing our homework. But what I have sensed is an enormous frustration with the unexpected costs of knowing too much, of being inundated with information. We have come to confuse information with understanding.
As William James and Henri Bergson would argue around the same time, without the selective activity of the mind there would be no “world,” only a formless chaos.

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

Who Is Owen Barfield? (And Connections with Collingwood & Lukacs)



Owen Barfield (1898-1997)

My reading has taken a recent turn into the philosophy of history, an unfortunate phrase in some ways, but suffice it to say it involves thinking about how we understand history. I turned from a short book on the history of rhetoric to some writings of Quentin Skinner about how to understand the history of political thinking. Skinner reports that R. G. Collingwood influenced him. Collingwood again! Last year, after having known for some time that I should tackle Collingwood, I bought one of those magnificently inexpensive South Asian editions of The Idea of History (1946/revised ed. 1994), Collingwood’s posthumously published masterwork on the topic. I shipped it back to America, not knowing that in China my reading and thinking would turn in this direction.  


Of course, readers of this blog will expect that I would turn to John Lukacs in this topic as well, although, since it’s confession time, I’ve never done a complete read-through of Historical Consciousness: The Remembered Past (1968/1985), Lukac’s masterwork (but far from only work) about history as a subject. When reading Lukacs now, the name of Owen Barfield (b. 1898) comes up, a name I know but a body of thought that I’ve never completely gotten a handle upon. Lukacs mentions Barfield as a source of thinking about “participatory knowing”. A number of years ago I read two of Barfield’s most prominent works, Saving the Appearances (1957) and History, Guilt, and Habit (1957). (His Coleridge book sat on my shelf for a long time, and it lies in wait for me like buried treasure.) How do you pigeonhole Barfield? You don’t. Philosopher, anthropologist, literary scholar, or a bit of a kook? Like most intriguing thinkers, he trashes boundaries and goes off seeking answers where he may. I could not get him on one pass. 


Owen Barfield was born in 1898 and lived—remaining active and lucid—to 1997. He graduated from Oxford just after the War. Collingwood graduated just before the War and accepted a faculty position at Oxford shortly after the War, beginning his tenure as a professor of philosophy. (I’ve found no record that the two of them ever had any direct contact.) Barfield was a literary man and took his degree in literature. 


Friend, fellow Inkling, & godfather to Barfield's daughter Lucy, to whom he dedicated a book
Also, while at Oxford, he met C.S. “Jack” Lewis, with whom his name is inevitably linked. They developed a friendship and became intellectual sparring partners: Barfield in the early 1920s found an intellectual beacon in the writings of Rudolph Steiner, an Austrian mystic (for lack of a more precise term) and founder of Anthroposophy. Lewis, of course, later became a Christian. Lewis and Barfield, together with J.R.R. Tolkien and Charles Williams, formed The Inklings, an informal literary group. But while Lewis and Tolkien took up academic positions at Oxford, Barfield was called to his family business in London and began work full time as a solicitor (transaction lawyer). He remained in this position until 1959 when he retired and turned his full attention to writing and speaking. 



Barfield published his first book, History in English Words (1926) about how meanings of words change over time reflecting changes in the way people think about the world. While Barfield’s output was limited during his time working as a solicitor, he did publish Poetic Diction: The Recovery of Meaning (1928) (based on his thesis at Oxford), and he drafted Saving the Appearances, which is perhaps his most well-known work. He moved from a fascination with words and Romantic poetry to the study about how consciousness has evolved and how human self-knowledge has changed over history. Put in the broadest terms, Barfield argues that human consciousness once enjoyed a participatory knowledge of nature and the world around it, but that has been lost and now seeks a new source. Barfield’s project is a wide-scale inquiry into how we know and how that way of knowing has changed during history. Barfield doesn’t believe we can go back, but he ponders how we might move forward. 

R.G. Collingwood (1889-1943), fellow Oxfordian
It appears that Barfield addresses Collingwood’s work directly in later works. Barfield, after retiring as a solicitor in the late 1950s, enjoyed a second career as an academic lecturer and teacher in the U.S., lecturing and teaching at Brandeis University, Drew University, and the University of Missouri, among others. In Speaker’s Meaning (1967), Barfield addresses Collingwood’s work. Collingwood argues that we imaginatively re-enact history when we consider a historical topic. In fact, all history is the history of human thought according to Collingwood. While I don’t have access to these Barfield books, the interplay between Barfield’s work and Collingwood’s intrigues me. 

John Lukacs, active Hungarian-American historian
John Lukacs has cited Barfield in his books, such as Historical Consciousness (available via Google Books) and The Future of History. Lukacs participated in a Barfield Centenary Celebration put on jointly by Columbia University and Drew University (New Jersey). (Alas. I have no record of his remarks.) I can’t now detail all of Lukac’s references to Barfield, nor can I now explore the ties and influences, but as I note below, I hope to do so later. 

T. S. Eliot, W. H. Auden, Howard Nemerov, Saul Bellow, Walker Percy, Harold Bloom, James Hillman, and William Irwin Thompson (not to mention Lukacs) are among those who have praised Barfield's work. (See David Lavery’s “Friends of Owen Barfield” site for a more detailed list.) Yet, like Lukacs, he seems relatively unknown and underappreciated. I hope to bring together something showing how in time, space, and thought Collingwood, Barfield, and Lukacs connect in their thinking about history and human understanding (or knowing) in general. I believe that there are some intriguing possibilities to explore.  

4 March 2020. I've edited this for some updates and typos, but most happily, since writing this I've done some additional reading that now spars me the embarrassment of some of the failings that I had to admit to when I first wrote this in 2014.