**A Warm Welcome to Russell's World (or Worlds!)** Right from the start, Bertrand Russell sets a tone of intellectual honesty and dynamism. He isn't shy about admitting that his opinions have changed throughout his long life, sometimes drastically. He even finds it hard to believe that the person writing things fifty-seven years ago is the same person now. This changing perspective isn't a weakness for him; rather, he sees an unchanging system of philosophical doctrines as proof of intellectual stagnation. He contrasts this with science, where changing opinions based on new understanding is expected. This perspective makes philosophy seem less like theology with fixed dogmas and more like a journey of discovery. - _Further thought:_ How comfortable are _you_ with changing your mind on important topics? Does the idea of intellectual stagnation resonate with you? Can philosophy ever reach a point of settled, unchanging truth like some might claim for certain scientific laws? Russell expresses sincere gratitude to the editors for selecting items from his extensive writings, acknowledging the difficulty of the task. He feels the collection provides a just epitome of his numerous works. **Language: More Than Just Words** Moving into the core philosophical topics, Russell tackles language. He notes that traditional philosophy often didn't study language with enough care. It was often assumed that words simply express 'thoughts' which have 'objects' that the words 'mean'. Philosophers often considered the objects meant by words when they thought they were considering the words themselves, or mistakenly treated a word as a single entity rather than a set of similar events. This failure to analyze language explicitly has been a cause of many problems in traditional philosophy. Russell proposes that 'meaning' can only be properly understood if we treat language as a bodily habit, learned much like playing football or riding a bicycle. He sees this approach, which he associates with Dr. Watson and behaviorism, as a strong point in favor of behaviorism. To study language properly, he suggests looking at three things: 1. What words are, as physical events. 2. The circumstances leading us to use a given word. 3. The effects of hearing or seeing a word. He notes that the second and third points lead into the study of sentences and potentially require methods like Gestalt psychology. While language can take many physical forms like deaf-and-dumb language or a shrug, speaking and hearing, writing and reading, are the most important and raise no special psychological problems compared to others. Written words, when exposed to light and in the right position for a normal eye, create complicated effects on the eye, optic nerve, and brain, simultaneous with vision. Writing produces relatively permanent structures that cause similar effects on suitable eyes, allowing different written words to lead to different read words. - _Further thought:_ If language is a 'bodily habit,' what does that imply about the nature of thought itself? Does thinking require language, or can we think without it, perhaps through other 'bodily habits'? How does this behaviorist approach to language compare to more cognitive views? **Understanding 'Meaning' Through Association** Russell presents a theory of meaning based on conditioned reflexes. When, through conditioning, A becomes a cause of C, A is called an 'associative' cause of C, and C is an 'associative' effect of A. For a person hearing a word A, it 'means' C if the associative effects of A are very similar to those of C. For a person uttering a word A, it 'means' C if uttering A is an associative effect of C or something associated with C. He gives the example of the word 'Peter' meaning a certain person. When someone hears 'Peter,' the associative effects should be similar to seeing Peter. When someone utters 'Peter,' the associative causes should be occurrences previously associated with Peter. He notes this schema becomes more complex with experience but believes it remains fundamentally true. He mentions C. K. Ogden and I. A. Richards' book "The Meaning of Meaning". He notes that this book, by focusing on the causes of uttering words, only presents half of his theory, saying a word and its meaning have the same causes. Russell distinguishes between active meaning (of the speaker) and passive meaning (of the listener). In active meaning, the word is associatively caused by what it means or something associated with it; in passive meaning, the word's associative effects are similar to those of what it means. He illustrates the conditioning process with a child and a bottle. A child gets excited seeing a bottle (a conditioned reflex from mealtime experience). One more step of conditioning makes the child excited hearing the word 'bottle', which is then called 'understanding' the word. This explanation relies on mnemic effects belonging only to events in living tissue, where only certain events can be associated (seeing the bottle leads to excitement, but hearing 'bottle' cannot nourish). The law of conditioned reflexes, within its limits, explains the understanding of words. - _Further thought:_ Does this associative theory of meaning account for abstract concepts like 'justice' or 'beauty'? How do we learn the meaning of words for things we can't directly see or touch, or for things that don't provoke an immediate physical reaction? Is meaning truly just about associative causes and effects? **Sentences, Forms, and the Building Blocks of Logic** From words, we naturally move to sentences. Russell examines the unity of sentences. He uses the example "I should be sorry if you fell ill," which cannot be split into two independent sentences. He calls this a 'molecular' sentence, made of 'atomic' constituent sentences. An atomic sentence is roughly one with only one verb, although this would only be strictly true in a logical language. To avoid linguistic entanglements, we should distinguish sentences by their implied form, not just their accidental complexity. For example, "Alexander preceded Caesar" is complex due to the complexity of Alexander and Caesar, but the form "x preceded y" doesn't imply x and y are complex. Since Alexander died before Caesar was born, every part of Alexander preceded every part of Caesar. So, "x precedes y" can be accepted as an atomic form, even if we can't name specific x and y that make an atomic proposition. He defines an atomic form of proposition as one where the fact of being of that form doesn't logically imply it's a structure of subordinate propositions. It's also not logically necessary for a proper name to name a structure with parts. Studying atomic forms is a necessary preliminary to understanding the essential unity of a sentence. In any significant sentence, a connection is essential between what the words mean, except for words indicating syntax. Syntax shows the relation asserted. He revisits "Caesar died," which asserts the existence of something common to two classes: events that were Caesar and events that are deaths. Simpler cases exist, like pointing to a daffodil and saying "this is yellow". "This" can be a proper name for a part of the visual field, and "yellow" a class-name. This is simpler than "Caesar died," classifying a given object, logically like "this is a death". However, "this is yellow" is not as simple as it seems. Learning 'yellow' involves an object yellow by definition, and perceiving other objects are similar in color. So, "this is yellow" might convey "this resembles in colour the object which is yellow by definition". If so, classificatory propositions seem to assert similarity, making the simplest propositions relational. The three-term relation 'between' might be the most complex visual datum required. The importance of atomic forms and their contradictories is that empirical physical data, when carefully formulated, assert or deny propositions of atomic form. Other physical sentences can theoretically be proved, disproved, rendered probable or improbable by sentences of these forms. Data should not be anything logically provable or disprovable by other data. - _Further thought:_ How does the idea of "atomic sentences" relate to the building blocks of our knowledge? If the simplest propositions are relational (like 'this is yellow' implying similarity), what does that tell us about how we perceive and structure reality? **From Concrete Things to Abstract Forms** Russell delves into the nature of general propositions. He argues that universal statements like "all men are mortal" are not just about men, but about _everything_, stating that every 'x' is either mortal or not human. Since we can't examine everything, we can't know general propositions empirically. Similarly, propositions containing "the" in the singular, like "Scott was the author of Waverley," cannot be strictly proved by empirical evidence. To prove Scott was _the_ author, one would need to survey the universe and find that everything that wrote Waverley was Scott, which is beyond our power. Language, while indispensable, is also a dangerous tool. It suggests a definiteness, discreteness, and quasi-permanence in objects (like Mr. Jones, whose boundaries are physically vague due to electron exchange, food digestion, breathing, etc.) that physics shows they lack. A name helps us think of Mr. Jones as a single entity, which is convenient but ultimately untrue. The philosopher faces the difficult task of using language to undo the false beliefs it suggests. Some philosophers treat language as autonomous, forgetting its relation to fact and the environment. While this has advantages in logic and mathematics ("Art for art's sake" applies here), it doesn't give the whole truth. Language's usefulness in ordering a meal doesn't concern the pure mathematician. - _Further thought:_ How does our language shape our perception of reality? Are the categories our language provides always accurate representations of the world? How can we, as Russell suggests, use language to correct the false beliefs it might introduce? **Propositions, Propositional Functions, and the Abstract Nature of Logic** Russell distinguishes between genuine propositions and expressions containing a real variable. A proposition is something that is true or false. An expression like "x is a man" isn't a proposition because it's neither true nor false; it's a schematic form for a class of propositions. When we say "x is a man implies x is a mortal for all values of x," this is a genuine proposition, even though 'x' appears, because the variable is 'absorbed' (like 'x' in a definite integral) and the truth doesn't depend on a specific value of x. Such variables are 'apparent'. Where there's a 'real' variable (where different values give different propositions), he calls the expression a 'propositional function'. He believes the study of genuine propositions is more fundamental than classes, but propositional functions are on par with classes. Logic and pure mathematics, according to Russell, deal formally with what can be said about _any_ thing or property, not particular ones. They don't mention Socrates or Plato; a world without them would still have one and one equaling two. If an argument holds for all men, they prove it concerning 'x' with the hypothesis 'if x is a man'. But if it holds for monkeys or geese too, they generalize further to 'x is an alpha', where alpha is any class. The absence of particulars is a necessary result of logic being 'purely formal'. Given a proposition like "Socrates is before Aristotle," it has constituents and a form. The form isn't a new constituent itself; otherwise, an endless regress would occur. We can turn constituents into variables ("x R y") while keeping the form. Assertions like "x R y is sometimes true" belong to logic/mathematics. No particular things or relations enter into pure logic. Pure forms are the only possible constituents of logical propositions. While not certain, we can tentatively accept that forms enter into logical propositions as constituents. The 'form' of a proposition is what remains unchanged when every constituent is replaced by another. "Socrates is earlier than Aristotle" has the same form as "Napoleon is greater than Wellington". Logical/mathematical propositions can be obtained by turning constituents of a variable-free proposition into variables and asserting the result is always true, sometimes true, or variations thereof. Logic is concerned only with forms, stating they are always or sometimes true. Some words in language only indicate form, like "is" in "Socrates is human". Form can often be shown by word order, though not always, especially for 'molecular' forms (truth-functions). Ideally, in a perfected language of mathematical logic, everything formal would belong to syntax, not vocabulary. Such a language would use symbols for variables and arrangements to indicate general assertions, not needing words which are for giving values to variables (the work of applied, not pure, mathematicians/logicians). Words/symbols expressing 'logical constants' are essential. Logical constants are essentially the same as forms. A fundamental logical constant is what is common among propositions where one results from another by substituting terms. Propositions of the form "x R y" share a common element (the form) that can't be obtained by substitution from propositions of other forms like subject-predicate. Any words in a pure logical language must express logical constants, derived from what is common among propositions interchangeable by term substitution. This common element is 'form'. Russell emphasizes that ordinary language is misleading and inexact for logic. Its grammar can suggest wrong notions (e.g., "ten men" suggesting 10 is an adjective). Logical symbolism is absolutely necessary for exact treatment. Mastering these symbols is a labour, but less than might seem, and is key to understanding mathematical principles. There are many unsolved problems in the field. - _Further thought:_ How does the distinction between real and apparent variables help clarify logical statements? Can you think of other examples where ordinary language grammar might mislead our understanding of logical structure? How does formal logic compare to the logic we use in everyday reasoning? **Knowledge, Data, and the Challenge of the External World** Russell reflects on data for knowledge of the external world. He defines a 'datum' as a form of words uttered as a result of a stimulus, without learned reactions beyond knowing how to speak (though allowing for sensory adjustments). Data are percepts. Belief in external objects is a learned reaction, which philosophy should treat as an inference whose validity needs testing. Logically, this inference cannot be demonstrative (certain), but at best probable. It's not impossible that life is a dream. Rejecting the dream view requires inductive or analogical argument, offering no complete certainty. We infer other people have similar stimuli from their analogous behavior. Hearing a crowd say "Oh" when a rocket bursts suggests they saw it too. Arguments from analogy apply to non-living things too, like a dictaphone repeating words, best explained by events analogous to those near one's ears happening at the dictaphone surface. While percepts could be all that happens, this makes causal laws and analogy arguments difficult. Science and common sense demand induction and analogy, so these inferences, not deduction, must be examined to accept the external world. An 'epistemological premiss' must be a logical premiss, a psychological premiss, and true as far as ascertainable. A logical premiss is one chosen in a deductive system from which others follow, regardless of truth or falsehood, seeking a minimum, simplest set. A psychological premiss is a belief not inferred from other beliefs. For an individual now, only their momentary epistemological premisses (like memory or present percepts) are truly premisses; others are inferred. Social epistemological premisses (like Magellan's percepts of the Straits of Magellan, accepted via testimony and maps) are relevant for social knowledge but not for the philosopher questioning belief in others or the past. Russell contrasts logical deduction with non-demonstrative inference (N-D.I.), which includes inferences used in common sense and science. In N-D.I., if premisses are true and reasoning correct, the conclusion is only _probable_, not certain. Justifying N-D.I. requires showing that a generalization has a finite probability _before_ examining evidence for it. This contrasts with idealist a priori principles, which were supposed to be certain. Russell developed five postulates for N-D.I., intended to give certain generalizations this finite antecedent probability. He is less confident in the exact formulation or number of these postulates, but believes something of the sort is necessary. One such postulate is analogy, used to justify belief in other minds. It states that if, given classes A and B, there's reason to believe A causes B whenever both are observed, then if A is observed but B isn't observable, B probably occurs (and vice versa). These postulates are justified because they are implied in inferences we accept as valid, and the system of science and everyday knowledge derived from them is self-confirmatory within limits. While rejecting the coherence theory of truth, Russell accepts a coherence theory of probability: the probability of two facts and a causal principle connecting them can be greater than any one alone, and this increases with more complex interconnected facts and principles. Hume raised doubts about induction nearly 200 years prior, and Russell admits it remains an unsolved problem in logic theoretically, though practically we can't help but believe in it. We assume pragmatically that induction is admissible with proper safeguards. - _Further thought:_ If our belief in the external world and other minds is based on probable inferences like induction and analogy, what are the limits of this knowledge? Can we ever be truly certain about anything beyond our immediate experience? How does the problem of induction affect scientific knowledge? **Knowledge by Acquaintance vs. Knowledge by Description** Russell introduces a fundamental distinction in how we know things. We are acquainted with certain objects, but not with others, like physical objects (as opposed to sense-data) or other people's minds. These others are known by 'knowledge by description'. A 'description' is a phrase like "a so-and-so" (ambiguous) or "the so-and-so" (definite). He focuses on definite descriptions ("the so-and-so" in the singular). Knowledge by description applies when we know there's an object answering a definite description but aren't acquainted with that object. Take Bismarck. Bismarck was acquainted with himself and could use his name directly. Someone who knew Bismarck was acquainted with sense-data connected to his body; his body and mind were known by description (as connected to those sense-data). The essential point is knowing various descriptions apply to the same entity without being acquainted with the entity itself. We who didn't know Bismarck know him via historical descriptions, often involving vague historical knowledge. For knowledge about the described thing beyond logical deduction from the description, the description must ultimately reference a particular with which we _are_ acquainted. For "The first Chancellor of the German Empire was an astute diplomatist," assurance of truth comes from testimony heard or read (with which we are acquainted). The thought we have, apart from communication, contains the involved particulars and consists otherwise of concepts. Names of places like London or Earth also involve descriptions starting from particulars we are acquainted with. In logic, which concerns anything that could exist, no reference to actual particulars is involved. When stating something about an object known only by description (like Bismarck), we often intend the statement to be about the actual thing described, not just the description. We wish to make the judgment only the person themselves could make (being a constituent of it). We know there is an object B (Bismarck) that was an astute diplomatist. The proposition we want to affirm is "B was an astute diplomatist," where B is the actual object. If describing Bismarck as "the first Chancellor," the desired proposition is "the proposition asserting, concerning the actual object which was the first Chancellor..., that this object was an astute diplomatist". We can communicate because we know a true proposition concerns the actual Bismarck, and varying correct descriptions still point to the same proposition. We don't know this proposition itself by acquaintance, only that it's true. There's a hierarchy of removal from acquaintance with particulars, from those who knew Bismarck to those who know only history, to the man with the iron mask (know propositions, but not who he was), to the longest-lived man (know only what's deducible from definition). Similarly, some universals are known by description, but knowledge of these is ultimately reducible to knowledge of universals known by acquaintance. The fundamental principle: Every proposition we can understand must be composed wholly of constituents with which we are acquainted. We must attach meaning to words, and that meaning must be something we are acquainted with. When speaking of Julius Caesar, we aren't acquainted with him but have descriptions ("man assassinated on Ides of March," "founder of Roman Empire," or "man whose name was Julius Caesar," where the name is a noise/shape we are acquainted with). Our statement means something involving a description of him composed of particulars and universals we are acquainted with. - _Further thought:_ What kinds of things can we be directly 'acquainted' with? Only sense-data? Ourselves? Universal concepts? How does this distinction between acquaintance and description limit or shape our knowledge of the world and others? Is it possible to understand a description if we aren't acquainted with any of its ultimate constituents? **Engaging with Dewey on Inquiry and Truth** Russell dedicates a significant portion of his writing to critically examining John Dewey's logic, particularly as presented in "Logic: The Theory of Inquiry". He finds the book rich with critiques of past philosophy and analyses of traditional logic's prejudices, showing an awareness of scientific investigation's realities, making it more concrete than many logic books. However, he focuses on Dewey's positive doctrines. Russell observes that every philosopher has a concealed, often unconscious, metaphysic. Reading Dewey reveals his own underlying system. He sees a fundamental difference stemming from a temperamental bias towards analysis (his own, in the British tradition) versus synthesis (Dewey's, aligned with the Germans like Hegel). Dewey's instrumentalism, while compatible with analysis, takes a 'holistic' form associated with Hegel's unification and dissolution of divisions. Dewey acknowledged Hegel's influence as providing a demand for unification and an immense sense of release from perceived divisions. Dewey rejects 'data' as the starting point of knowledge in the sense many empiricists understand it. Knowledge begins in an 'inquiry' process transforming an 'indeterminate situation' into a 'determinate' one. A situation is a unique, qualified existential whole containing diverse, unified distinctions and relations. Singular objects exist _within_ a situation. Perception isn't passive receptivity; what's called the given is selected. Russell questions this 'holistic' view, feeling it leads towards Bradley's view that every judgment qualifies Reality as a whole. While Dewey's purpose is practical, Russell thinks invalidating such totalizing views requires more place for logically separable particulars than Dewey allows. Russell agrees with Dewey that sense-data aren't knowledge objects, perception isn't cognition, and what's perceived isn't cognitive. But the relationship between perception and empirical knowledge remains unclear in Dewey's book. The most distinctive aspect of Dewey's logic for Russell is the emphasis on 'inquiry' over truth or knowledge. Inquiry is defined as the controlled transformation of an indeterminate situation into a determinate one, converting elements into a unified whole. Inquiry involves objective transformations of objective subject-matter. Propositions are tools for these transformations, differentiated by their function as means, not as true or false. Russell finds this definition inadequate, noting it could apply to a drill-sergeant training recruits or a bricklayer building a house, activities Dewey wouldn't call 'inquiry'. This suggests an unmentioned element in Dewey's concept of inquiry. Inquiry, as Dewey conceives it, seems part of making the world more 'organic,' with 'unified wholes' as outcomes, stemming from lingering Hegelian influence. Russell argues this assumes an unconscious Hegelian metaphysic where rearranging things (like a deck of cards) reveals their true nature, a doctrine not made explicit by Dewey. Russell sees a close similarity between Dewey's instrumentalism and Karl Marx's views in the Theses on Feuerbach, emphasizing practice and altering the world over contemplation or interpretation. A main difficulty for Russell is distinguishing inquiry from other practical activities. Inquiry involves interaction between object and subject. There seems to be an assumption of a process tending towards equilibrium, where the subject would then 'know' the object or reach 'truth'. 'Truth' isn't a central concept for Dewey; he refers to Peirce's definitions of truth as the opinion fated to be ultimately agreed upon by investigators, or the ideal limit of endless investigation. Russell finds Peirce's definition vague and sociologically disputable. It relies on a possibly rash assertion about the convergence of belief through endless investigation. He questions whether we can guess future beliefs or those of cleverer people. The definition also seems inapplicable to immediate, certain convictions like eating breakfast. Dewey substitutes 'warranted assertibility' for truth. Inquiry begins in doubt and ends in conditions removing the need for doubt, resulting in belief or knowledge, or 'warranted assertibility'. Warranted assertion involves an inferential function, running counter to belief in immediate knowledge. Russell interprets Dewey's view metaphorically: inquiry is an activity stimulated by 'doubt' (discomfort), which manipulates subject-matter until it's logically assimilable, allaying doubt. Like a wild boar perpetually reborn, inquiry's subject-matter returns, requiring more refined processing, with no 'absolute truth' dish. However, this interpretation doesn't explain the 'need for doubt'. For Russell, need for doubt arises from the likelihood of mistake based on an objectively right result. If inquiry is just activity stimulated by psychological doubt, rules for what _ought_ to remove doubt disappear, and inquiry can't be regulated by canons. Judging who is a better inquirer becomes problematic. If it's not just about removing doubt, inquiry must have another goal. Dewey avoids the word 'Pragmatism' in the text but says the book is thoroughly pragmatic in the sense that consequences are necessary tests of propositions' validity, provided they are operationally instituted and resolve the specific problem. Russell notes pragmatism involves more than induction. Induction requires premisses ("if p, then q" and "q") to be true in the ordinary sense. Pragmatism needs to dispense with ordinary truth. Dewey distinguishes 'knowledge' from 'apprehension' (like 'this is a typewriter'). Dealing with a car problem involves 'apprehending' states (going/not going). This behavior is like an animal trying to escape a cage, potentially with little intellectual content. Russell believes too much emphasis on the practical robs practice of its purpose. We act for ends beyond mere action, seeking rest and peace, not just more activity. If knowledge is just a halting-place in endless inquiry without an external goal, inquiry loses intellectual joy, becoming just a means to better dinners or faster travel. Wisdom requires receptive passivity as well as activity. The debate between basing logic on truth versus inquiry stems from differing values. Another key difference: Dewey judges belief by its _effects_ (e.g., winning the battle), while Russell judges it by its _causes_ (relation to past occurrences). Russell considers a belief 'true' if it relates appropriately to its causes; Dewey says it has 'warranted assertibility' if it has certain effects. This links to views on human power and freedom. If truth depends on the future, altering the future (if in our power) alters what should be asserted. Russell sees affirming "Caesar crossed the Rubicon" as unalterably necessitated by a past event. Dewey would decide based on future events, potentially arranged by human power to make a negative answer more satisfactory. Russell found Dewey vexed by this interpretation, comparing it to explaining Russell's views by his aristocratic connection. Russell accepts social environment influences views but regrets any mistaken interpretation of Dewey's influences. - _Further thought:_ How does Dewey's emphasis on inquiry and warranted assertibility change the traditional understanding of knowledge and truth? Is there a difference between "removing the need for doubt" and discovering truth? Is knowledge primarily a tool for solving problems, or is there value in "pure" or "contemplative" knowledge? **Other Philosophical Musings** The excerpts touch upon various other points of interest: - **Belief without words:** Simple beliefs can exist without verbal expression, like the bodily adjustment mistake descending stairs. This suggests error can be a failure of organism adjustment, blurring the line between mind and body. A belief can be a state promoting behavior suitable for a certain occurrence if sensibly present; that occurrence is the belief's 'significance'. - **Behaviorism:** Pavlov's work on conditioned reflexes led to behaviorism, relying solely on external observations, not introspection. Russell saw it as a valuable method to push as far as possible, though with definite limits. - **Philosophy and Language Types:** Philosophers can be grouped by their relation of words to facts: those who infer world properties from language, those who say knowledge is only of words, and those who say knowledge exists beyond words and use words to describe it. - **Truth and Verifiability:** Some beliefs are true, some false, raising the problem of verifiability. Self-evidence or subjective certainty aren't absolute truth criteria, though highly subjectively certain judgments might be more often true. Coherence as a definition of truth (advocated by idealists) suggests sets of propositions other than the whole of truth are inconsistent, and truth implies the whole. Russell explains the formal definition of truth for atomic propositions: replacing words by their meanings (including relations) results in an 'objective'; if this is a fact, the proposition is true, otherwise false. - **Knowledge and Desire:** Knowledge is correlative to desire, applicable to another feature of the same activity. A response shows 'knowledge' if it leads by the quickest/easiest route to the state behavioristically desired. Knowledge is a matter of degree (like a rat improving in a maze). Purely contemplative knowledge doesn't exist in this view; knowledge exists only in relation to satisfying desire or choosing means to ends. Examples: knowing the way somewhere by being able to walk it; knowing historical facts for examinations or relevance to present matters (like wills). Rules for weighing historical evidence aim for self-consistent results that enjoin the same action relevant to a desire. Avoidance of self-contradiction is crucial here. - **Abstract vs. Concrete:** Many dislike abstraction due to its difficulty, claiming it leaves out the essential reality. They see abstraction as falsification. This perspective differs from science, which is 'power-thought,' seeking understanding of causal laws to gain power over material. This is inherently abstract, and omitting irrelevant details makes thought more powerful. This is analogous to the economic sphere, where those dealing with wheat most abstractly (stock exchange) have the most power and make the most money. - **Materialism and the Physical World:** Russell's views on the physical world's construction have affinities with idealism over materialism, seeing 'mental' events as part of physical material, and the mind as what's in our heads (with additions). Positive arguments for idealism seem fallacious, but phenomenalist skepticism (we can't know what else exists beyond appearance) is more respectable. There are grades of certainty: own percepts, other people's percepts (if communicable/analogous), and events not perceived by anyone. While physics might not tell us our thoughts or feelings, it can describe bodily movements like speaking, writing, or committing crimes, which are subject to physical laws. The social efficacy of Shakespeare or Bach depended on physical marks (writing), and the causes of emotions from their work are physical. We cannot escape physical causation's universality. - **Science and Values:** Philosophy appropriate to science has changed. Newton saw science proving God as Lawgiver. French philosophes saw laws without lawgivers, leading to materialism and denying free will, seeing man as an insignificant episode. They found humility in the universe's vastness. In terms of disposition for a good world, an intellectual temper is needed: desire to know facts, unwillingness to assent to pleasant illusions. This contrasts with dogmatic creeds like Catholicism or Communism. For an Agnostic, reason concerns facts but not ends. Ends come from emotion, feeling, and desire, not external command, but should not contradict reason. - **Liberal Outlook:** The essence of the liberal outlook is not _what_ opinions are held, but _how_: tentatively, open to new evidence, like in science, unlike theology or political dogma. Science is empirical, tentative, and undogmatic. - **Morals:** Practical need for morals arises from conflicting desires. Prudence (acting for maximum satisfaction in the long run) is part of the good life and prevents things like wars, but isn't the most interesting part and doesn't raise intellectual problems beyond self-interest. He disagrees with Bentham that enlightened self-interest covers all morality, citing tyrants who enjoy torture. - **Wisdom:** Wisdom is a synthesis of knowledge, will, and feeling. Socrates thought knowledge alone sufficed, but Russell disagrees, noting one could have immense knowledge and malevolence. Benevolence is also necessary. Knowledge is an essential ingredient of wisdom, but not enough on its own. **Education: Cultivating the Ideal Character** Russell considers the aims of education. He argues we need a conception of the person we want to produce before deciding on the best education. Different thinkers (Arnold, Nietzsche, Kant, Confucius) and systems (Chinese literati, Japanese, Jesuits, Arnold, American public schools) have had different aims and varying success. He proposes four characteristics for an ideal character: vitality, courage, sensitiveness, and intelligence. He believes proper care could make these common. 1. **Vitality:** Physiological, present in perfect health, making life pleasurable, heightening pleasures, diminishing pains, promoting interest in the external world (objectivity), encouraging hard work, and safeguarding against envy. While compatible with bad qualities (like a tiger) and absent in some great men (Newton, Locke), it prevents irritabilities and envies. 2. **Courage:** Essential for intellectual probity and physical heroism. A free mental life isn't as comfortable as one in a creed, which offers safety in return for servitude. 3. **Sensitiveness:** Not discussed in detail in these excerpts, but listed as one of the four key characteristics. 4. **Intelligence:** Not discussed in detail in these excerpts regarding education aims, but clearly valued elsewhere in relation to knowledge, reason, and understanding the world. He also contrasts desirable and undesirable discipline in education. Elementary education often encourages undesirable passive obedience. Hardly any encourages the moral discipline of consistent self-direction. Traditional higher education can produce a purely mental discipline allowing focus regardless of distractions, enhancing the mind's efficiency as an instrument, necessary in a complicated world for those requiring mental concentration. Education should fill students with life, hope, and joy, enabling them to help create a less sombre future, with faith in human effort's potential. - _Further thought:_ How do these four characteristics (vitality, courage, sensitiveness, intelligence) relate to each other? Are they sufficient for an "ideal character"? How might an education system cultivate these qualities? **The Symbolism of Logic and Challenges** Russell highlights the necessity of symbolic form in logic for rigorous reasoning. It was forced upon him by necessity. The general method owes much to Peano, supplemented by Frege and Schröder for notation. Much symbolism had to be new for new ideas. In logical analysis, Frege is the chief debt, with differences arising from contradictions showing errors in premisses common to logicians, which were hard to detect otherwise. He points out advantages of symbolism: terseness allowing a whole proposition to be seen as one entity or a few parts. This supports complete enumeration of ideas and reasoning steps. A large part of the work involved dealing with contradictions and paradoxes in logic and aggregate theory. After examining many hypotheses, it became clear some form of the doctrine of types was needed to avoid contradictions. The specific form advocated is not logically indispensable, and other forms are compatible. The doctrine of types is negative, forbidding certain inferences but permitting none otherwise invalid. Inferences it permits are expected to remain valid even if the doctrine is invalid. The logical system is in the numbered propositions, separate from explanatory introductions/summaries. The hierarchy of types is explained differently in the introduction and the stricter main body (*12). Applying mathematical logic methods to physics is also discussed, which Russell is unrepentant about. Mathematical physics uses abstract entities like points, instants, and punctual particles, which aren't supposed to exist in nature. But mathematical logic shows how to construct structures from less smooth real-world things that _do_ have properties convenient for mathematicians. This makes mathematical physics more than just amusement. Mathematical logic is essential for bridging sense and science. - _Further thought:_ How do contradictions and paradoxes highlight fundamental issues in logical systems? What does the need for something like the "doctrine of types" tell us about the relationship between language, logic, and reality? **Final Thoughts and Open Questions** This glimpse into "Basic Writings of Bertrand Russell" offers a tour through a mind grappling with fundamental questions about knowledge, language, logic, reality, and even education and ethics. We've seen his scientific spirit embracing changing views, his behaviorist-tinged theory of language and meaning, his dissection of sentences into forms and constituents, his critical engagement with other philosophers like Dewey, his distinction between knowing by acquaintance and description, and his reflections on the nature and aims of knowledge, logic, and even character. Many questions remain open: - Can Russell's theory of meaning fully account for the richness and complexity of human language and thought? - What are the ultimate constituents of reality with which we can be directly acquainted? - Is a complete justification of induction possible, or must we rely on pragmatic assumptions? - Can philosophy ever reach a state of settled truth, or is it an unending process of inquiry and revision, like science? - How do our values and biases inevitably shape our philosophical outlook, as Russell suggests in his critique of Dewey?