John Burbidge-King

To formulate a philosophy of time is not easy, even though it would seem to be the basic requirement for any philosophy which attempts to comprehend the world of nature or of history. The problem is briefly posed: Can the conceptual framework of philosophical thought do justice to the dynamic character of time?The purpose of this paper is not to provide a definitive answer to this question. Its aim is more limited. By discussing carefully the way in which Hegel's philosophy related conceptual thought to time, it hopes to provide new perspectives on this vexing philosophical problem.

On Thursday evening, August 30, 1989, in the Combination Room of Trinity College, Cambridge University, Michael Petry of Erasmus University, Rotterdam, opened the conference he had organized on “Hegel and Newtonianism.” Under the sponsorship of the Istituo per gli Studi Filosofici of Naples, Petry invited more than 40 scholars from Italy, Germany, Switzerland, Holland, Belgium, Denmark, the United Kingdom, the United States, and Canada to discuss the relation between eighteenth century Newtonian science and Hegel’s philosophy of nature.

In the year 1841, the sixty-six year old philosopher, Schelling, was installed in the chair of philosophy at Berlin. Because he wanted someone with sufficient authority to combat the influence of Hegel, the new king of Prussia supported his appointment. As Crown Prince he had been concerned about the liberal and subversive elements in Hegel’s political philosophy. In power, he chose an associate of Hegel’s youth to lead the attack, a man who had disappeared from the intellectual scene just as Hegel’s star was beginning to rise. Although Schelling and Hegel were collaborators in the years that led up to the Phenomenology of Spirit, Schelling had not been converted to dialectical philosophy. Indeed, in lectures on the history of philosophy given in Munich during the years after Hegel’s death, he challenged its rationality. The move from the logic of pure thought to a philosophy of nature was unjustified. For Schelling there could be no logical bridge between transcendental idealism and the theory which expressed the inherent structures of the natural order. They are two quite different disciplines, of quite a different order. When Hegel moved from one to the other, then, he was violating a fundamental logical principle, first enunciated by Aristotle. He was passing over into another genus—from thought to reality. The image that sprang to Schelling’s mind was one vividly expressed by Lessing for an analogous problem. Between the two—thought and reality—lay a “nasty broad ditch.”

Hegel suggests that spirit, in contrast to animal nature, can encounter infinite agony in the death of what was its center, and yet, by dwelling with this loss, emerge into a new form of existence. The paradigm for this move is described toward the end of the chapter on Revealed Religion in the Phenomenology of Spirit. An analysis of the key paragraph introduces a discussion of four questions: Why is this experience triggered by the death of a mediator? What characterizes the spiritual metamorphosis that results? Are such transformations restricted to revealed religion? And what does this defining characteristic tell us about the way spiritual life differs from the natural?

When he died in 1831, Hegel had just completed a revision of the first Book of the Science of Logic, “The Doctrine of Being”. Since the revised edition has been consistently used in subsequent printing, the first edition disappeared from view, to surface again only in 1966 when Vanderhoeck and Ruprecht of Gottingen published a facsimile reprint. Along with the never-revised “Doctrine of Essence” of 1813, that original text of Book I has now received elegant treatment in volume 11 of the critical edition.

By comparing the argument in the first edition of Hegel’s Science of Logic with that of the second we find that he not only introduces significant changes but indicates why he found the changes necessary. As over time he rethought his method in the course of his annual lectures he realised that pure thought should not anticipate results but follow from the inherent sense of each term. The details of his logical method suggest how the novelties that emerge in history can require the introduction of new modified categories.

This is a good book. The quality of Flay’s analysis grows on the reader as he moves from the introductory comments, through the discussions of self-consciousness, reason, and spirit. We have here an interpretation of Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit which does justice to the Hegelian project and at the same time renders most, if not all, of the standard criticisms ineffective. But it is not just a new reading of a work which has challenged many commentators of the past and present. In addition this volume provides us with a thorough critical review of most of the literature on the Phenomenology up to 1980. The bibliography includes 543 references, each of which is either discussed or referred to, in many cases more than once, in the 140 pages of detailed notes. From now on no student of this work of Hegel can avoid turning to Flay, if only to find out what his predecessors have said.

Over the years, in various journals, I have seen lengthy articles about Hegelianism in Poland, in Japan, or in Holland. Never, however, have I seen anything about Hegel studies in Canada. In Europe, for example, anglophone Canadians are simply identified with Americans. On the other hand, in the membership list of the Hegel Society of America, Canadians are lumped together with all the others “outside the U.S.A.”—this despite the fact that three times over the past thirteen biennia Canadians have been elected president of the HSA, and three Canadians vice-president.

In the conclusion to his long book on Hegel, Michael Inwood cites a passage describing the way Stephen Spender’s tutors approached the study of philosophy: “This might be described as the Obstacle Race way of teaching philosophy. The whole field of human thought is set out with logical obstacles and the students watch the philosophers race around it.” Inwood mentions it because “it represents … one of the ways in which we should not treat Hegel - disqualifying him from the race altogether on account of his obscurity or allowing a simplified parody of him to stumble at an early stage”.

George Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel has seldom been considered a major figure in the history of logic. His two texts on logic, both called The Science of Logic, both written in Hegel's characteristically dense and obscure language, are often considered more as works of metaphysics than logic. But in this highly readable book, John Burbidge sets out to reclaim Hegel's Science of Logic as logic and to get right at the heart of Hegel's thought. Burbidge examines the way Hegel moves from concept to concept through every chapter of his work, and traces the origins of Hegel's effort to "think through the way thought thinks" to Plato, Kant, and Fichte. Having established the framework of Hegel's logical thought, Burbidge demonstrates how Hegel organized the rest of his system, including the Philosophy of Nature, Philosophy of Spirit and his Lectures on World History, Art, Religion and Philosophy. A final section discusses English-language interpretations of Hegel's logic from the nineteenth through twentieth centuries. Burbidge's The Logic of Hegel's 'Logic' is written with an eye to the reader of general interests, avoiding as much as possible the use of Hegel's technical vocabulary. It is an excellent introduction to an otherwise very difficult text, and has recently appeared in an Iranian translation.

Di Giovanni’s review of my On Hegel’s Logic in the September 1982 number of The Owl of Minerva fulfilled its own prediction. By responding to my thesis concerning the logic, he transformed my monologue into “an instructive debate on what the nature and value of the Hegelian Logic truly are.” After a thorough and carefully analysis of my “meta-logical” introduction and conclusion, he raises a central question concerning my interpretation of the logic: whether in fact I have fallen prey to psychologism. In accordance with the traditions of debating, his challenge deserves a considered rebuttal.

Both Hegel and Whitehead endeavored to develop a philosophy that was comprehensive. Yet there is little direct contact from the one to the other. This makes any comparison a creative venture. George R. Lucas, Jr. has found the appropriate forum for meeting such a challenge. In 1984 he organized an international symposium on Hegel and Whitehead at Fordham University, and this book contains a selection of the papers presented. The result is appropriately dialectical. Some, like E. E. Harris, argue that in essence Hegel and Whitehead, despite the difference in vocabulary, are saying the same thing. And George Kline concludes that "what for Hegel is the concept's reconciling mediation of contradictory opposites is for Whitehead the concrescent occasion's reconciling conversion of exclusion". In a similar vein Ernest Wolf-Gazo discovers a parallel between Hegel's negation and Whitehead's contrast. Others stress the differences, and opt for one to the prejudice of the other. Klaus Hartmann claims that Hegel's type of explanation is more successful than that of Whitehead; Tom Rockmore suggests that Hegel's self-reflexive moment is more thoroughgoing than anything Whitehead advances; and J. N. Findlay looks at Whitehead from the perspective of Hegel's Philosophy of Nature. In contrast Ivor Leclerc concludes that Whitehead's was "the greatest attempt after Kant to provide a solid and secure foundation for scientific theory and the knowledge of nature" ; and Jan Van der Veken prefers Whitehead's more open and humble interpretation of God and Creativity to Hegel's arrogance. A third group of papers, like John Smith's "The Meaning of Religious Experience" and Curtis Carter's "On Aesthetic Symbols" explore the diversity while remarking on the relative advantages of one or the other on this feature or that.

At a time when Hegel studies were virtually non-existent in North America, Emil Fackenheim began teaching at the University of Toronto, in a department strongly committed to the history of philosophy. He taught medieval philosophy to third-year students in the honours program, and a course on metaphysics and the philosophy of history to students in fourth year honors, a combination of interests that found expression in his Aquinas Lectures of 1961: Metaphysics and Historicity. It was, however, his graduate course on Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel, given for over thirty years, that inspired many to take up the challenge of German idealism. “One day I took my courage in my hands and told F. H. [Anderson, then head of the department] that I wanted to teach a course on Hegel. ‘Do you understand Hegel?’ he asked. The question was more like an assault. ‘Yes,’ I lied, and went on to teach Kant, Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel in all the years ahead.”