Stephen R. L. Clark

Technology, according to Derry and Williams's Short History, ‘comprises all that bewilderingly varied body of knowledge and devices by which man progressively masters his natural environment’. Their casual, and unconscious, sexism is not unrelated to my present topic. Women enter the story as spinners, burden bearers and, at long last, typists. ‘The tying of a bundle on the back or the dragging of it along upon the outspread twigs of a convenient branch are contributions [and by implication the only contributions] to technology which probably had a feminine origin’. Everything else was done by men, and what they did was master, conquer, and control. It is also significant that Derry and Williams take it for granted that ‘the men [sic] of the Old Stone Age, few and scattered, developed little to help them to conquer their environment’: until the advent of agriculture, and settled civilization, there was, they say, neither leisure nor surplus.

According to Aristotle, the goal of anyone who is not simply stupid or slavish is to live a worthwhile life. There are, no doubt, people who have no goal at all beyond the moment's pleasure or release from pain. There may be people incapable of reaching any reasoned decision about what to do, and acting on it. But anyone who asks how she should live implicitly agrees that her goal is to live well, to live a life that she can think worth living. That goal, eudaimonia, is something that is sought for its own sake, and for nothing else. Anyone who asks herself how she should live can answer that she should live well. The answer, admittedly, needs further comment. Aristotle went on to suggest that ‘living well’ amounted to living in accordance with virtue, or if there is more than one virtue, in accordance with the best and most complete. Eudaimonia, happiness, is virtuous activity over a whole life. To live a worthwhile life we must acquire and practice habits of doing the right thing, for the right reason. Equivalently, we must do what a virtuous person would, and in the way she would, for the sake of to kalon, or beauty.

Technology, according to Derry and Williams's Short History, ‘comprises all that bewilderingly varied body of knowledge and devices by which man progressively masters his natural environment’. Their casual, and unconscious, sexism is not unrelated to my present topic. Women enter the story as spinners, burden bearers and, at long last, typists. ‘The tying of a bundle on the back or the dragging of it along upon the outspread twigs of a convenient branch are contributions [and by implication the only contributions] to technology which probably had a feminine origin’. Everything else was done by men, and what they did was master, conquer, and control. It is also significant that Derry and Williams take it for granted that ‘the men [sic] of the Old Stone Age, few and scattered, developed little to help them to conquer their environment’: until the advent of agriculture, and settled civilization, there was, they say, neither leisure nor surplus.

Chesterton was a serious and even excellent philosopher, whose reputation has suffered because his style was so striking, and his conversion to Catholicism so unpopular with Whiggish Britons. He had many ?politically incorrect? opinions, but those ?faults? were symptoms of a greater virtue, his insistence that ?the whole object of history is to make us realize that humanity can be great and glorious, under conditions quite different and even contrary to our own?. His desire for a United Europe was not for a larger, self?willed State, but for a continent of peasant proprietors, workers owning their own tools, citizens alive to their own local heritage. What he distrusted was the Laodicean mood that best defines modernity, that nothing is worth dying for but life is not worth living. What he consistently opposed was the power of businessmen and aristocrats, and their Whiggish supporters? habit of supposing that the actual course of history was inevitable. Speculation about might?have?beens (including the great might?have?been of medieval Christendom) is a way to subvert the oppressive weight of the present. His hope was for a revolution ('we may or may not see the New Jerusalem rebuilt. .. on our fields, but in the flesh we shall see Babylon fall'), one made easier by the realization that Babylon need never have been built

The world we lost, and now barely understand, was one where everyone knew her place, and her attendant duties. Civilized groups were the likeliest to insist on a diversity of rôle and rule. Primitive societies are ones where there are rather fewer such distinctions. Slaves and merchants offered a way of being outside the orders, and from the older point of view, the life of slaves and merchants is exactly what the ‘liberal’ ideal entails. No one can count on her connections; everything is up for sale; no one is dishonoured by the acts of friends or family; only animal passions keep us all together. Even in societies that profess egalitarian theories, castes and classes re-emerge. If there is another option it may lie in drawing, as the ancients did, a clear division between selfhood and nature: even in a traditionally hierarchical society it is possible to recall the mere selves that play their various parts. In a would-be egalitarian society that hopes for something more than the hedonic or agonistic bonds that may bind small-scale communities together, recalling, and reconstructing, that distinction may be even more important. Footnotes1 This paper is intended as a prolegomenon to a larger study of NeoPlatonist ethics. I am grateful for the Leverhulme Trust's support for this project.

The principle that is, for Plotinus, both origin and goal of all things is labelled, for convenience, the One, or—equivalently—the Good. Plotinus is clear that even these titles may be misleading, since this principle is not one thing among many, nor can we even truly say that it exists. Nothing that we can say of it is really true, and we cannot ever strictly know or understand it. It must seem to follow that, having nothing true to say of it, nor any way of grasping its nature, we had better simply be silent, as Plotinus agrees. This does not stop him from continuing...

1. Believing Enough to ThinkThe Scottish system of university education requires most aspirants to an Ordinary Degree to study some philosophy. Philosophers in Scottish Universities must therefore contend with enormous first-year classes, stocked with youngsters who have little real desire to be philosophers, or even to philosophize. Some years ago, at Glasgow, a question in the final exam was as follows: ‘“Philosophy is of no use, and so should not be studied.” Discuss’. A couple of hundred students answered, more or less fluently, that one should not assume that what was of no use should not be studied, since some things were worth studying in their own right, but that in any case the study of philosophy was useful since it helped one to question what authoritative figures said. No essayist, apparently, saw any paradox in this reply, which was, of course, taken word for word from the professor's lectures.

Resumo O autor começará por examinar a noção de participação, tal como é aplicada por Platão, primeiro à distinção gramatical entre identidade e predicação e depois às questões metafísicas acerca de sujeitos reais, sendo eles indivíduos contáveis, de um “material” subjacente, ou Formas que aparecem mais ou menos reconhecíveis na nossa experiência. Mesmo os materialistas modernos admitem uma distinção entre a realidade tal como ela “é” e tal como “aparece”. Surge então a questão, mais ainda para os modernos do que para Platão, sobre a possibilidade de conhecer algo do mundo “tal como ele é” além de como “aparece”. O autor conclui, sugerindo a hipótese de um conhecimento “participativo”, de um tipo agora associado ao pensamento “right brain” em vez de “left brain”. Termina reiterando que podemos conhecer a realidade como ela é “a partir do interior”, uma vez que nela estamos inseridos. Palavras-chave: formas, matéria, participação, Plotino, predicaçãoA brief examination of the notion of participation, as it is applied by Plato first to the grammatical distinction between identity and predication, and then to metaphysical questions about the real subjects, whether these are countable individuals, an underlying “stuff”, or the Forms that appear more or less recognizably in our experience. Even modern materialists admit a distinction between the world as it appears, very variously, to us, and the world “as it is”. The question then arises, for moderns even more than for Plato, how we could hope to know anything of the world “as it is”, apart from its appearance to us and others. I conclude by gesturing toward the possibility of “participatory” knowledge, of a kind now associated with “right brain” rather than “left brain” thinking. We can know what reality is “from the inside”, since we ourselves are inside it. Keywords : Participation, predication, Forms, Matter, Plotinus

When opinion polls are conducted on some urgent matter of the day those polled are permitted to declare themselves ‘Don't Knows’. It is usually a minority who are so ill-disposed as to forget their civic duty to have an opinion on each and every subject, and they can usually expect to be rebuked as fence-sitters or slugabeds. People confronted by the demand that they take sides can generally produce a ‘view’ which they maintain against all-comers without the slightest attempt to seek out confirmation or counter-evidence. Sometimes, no doubt, this view ‘bubbles up’ from the speaker's entrenched evaluations and opinions; sometimes it has simply been selected, off the cuff, from the available alternatives and entered in the speaker's ‘axiom set’, the things she'll say when asked, or which she may even ‘act on’ in some more material way—without any implication that the alternative opinion would not once have done as well.