In
his most interesting essay on Heraclitus, Bertrand Russell inadvertently
clarifies why this particular pre-Socratic is so dear to Nietzsche’s heart. On
the one hand, Heraclitus was a peculiar mystic, which in itself establishes him
as an excellent philosopher, in Nietzsche’s eyes. On the other hand, his ethic,
according to Russell, is a kind of proud asceticism, very similar to Nietzsche’s.
Having set this up as a nice preamble for our next entry’s discussion of
Nietzsche’s opinion of Heraclitus, we shall remain with Bertrand Russell for
the rest of this entry.
Russell
thinks that Heraclitus was not a nice man, and he comes to this opinion on the
basis of the Greek’s extant fragments only. He is much too much addicted to
contempt, for Russell’s liking, and is the reverse of a democrat. Being a
native of Ephesus, he speaks not very nicely of his compatriots, even if they
deserve it: Ephesians would do well to hang
themselves, every grown person of them, and leave the city to beardless lads;
for they have cast out Hermodorus, the best person among them, saying, “We will
have none who is best among us; if there be any such, let him be so elsewhere
and among others.” Had this been an isolated instance of his
contempt, this could have passed as a flash of angry sarcasm, but, as Russell
points out, he speaks ill of all his eminent predecessors,
be that Homer or Hesiod or Pythagoras or Xenophanes, etc. The only exception is
Bias (this is not a joke!), mistakenly identified by Russell as Teutamas
from the following Fragment 112: In Priene
lived Bias, son of Teutamas who is of more account than the rest. (He said,
Most people are bad.) With a delightfully understated humor, Russell
explains Heraclitus’ praise of Bias by the latter’s opinion of humanity. At any
rate, Bias would have appreciated Heraclitus view that
only force will compel people to act for their own good: Every beast is
driven to the pasture with blows. No wonder, then, Russell says,
that Heraclitus believes in war: War is the father
of all and the king of all, we must know that war is common to all, and that
strife is justice, and that all things come into being and pass away in strife.
Russell
points out as well that Heraclitus’ attitude toward the religion of his time is
hostile, “but not with the hostility of a scientific
rationalist. He has his own religion, and in part interprets current theology
to fit his doctrine, in part rejects it with considerable scorn.” This
corresponds to my own earlier expressed view that Heraclitus does not attack
religion as such, but only the polytheistic mythology and the anthropomorphic
theology of his age, as opposed to his personal espousal of monotheism, where fire
is more or less symbolic of the One Deity.
Heraclitus
believes in perpetual change, Russell asserts, but “sometimes
he speaks as if the unity were more fundamental than the diversity… But,
nevertheless, there would be no unity if there were no opposites to be
combined: It is the opposite, which is good for us.” In
this peculiar doctrine, Russell sensibly finds the germ of Hegel’s dialectics.
Not surprisingly, of course, Heraclitus is often called the father of
dialectics.
Russell’s
essay ends with a return to the question of permanence and change, which he
calls painful:
The doctrine of the perpetual flux, as taught by Heraclitus,
is painful, and science can do nothing to refute it. One of the main ambitions
of philosophers has been to revive hopes (of permanence) that science seems to
have killed. Philosophers, accordingly, have sought, with great persistence,
for something not subject to the empire of Time. This search begins with
Parmenides.
Parmenides
is of course another story, to follow this one later. But on the question of
permanence, Russell, happily, does not deny it to Heraclitus completely,
rightfully referring to the already quoted Fragment 20: Heraclitus himself, for all his belief in change, allowed something
everlasting. The conception of eternity, as opposed to endless duration,
which comes from Parmenides, is not to be found in Heraclitus, but in his
philosophy the central fire never dies: the world was ever, is now, and ever
shall be, an ever-living Fire.
Having
come to the end of our discussion of Russell’s Heraclitean essay, we have seen
that Russell treats his philosophy with seriousness that it deserves, but his
opinion of Heraclitus the man is not good at all. It is therefore extremely
intriguing now to find out what exactly attracts Nietzsche to this scornful
man, why he exhibits so much warmth toward this cold misanthrope, whose
nickname the weeping philosopher puts it all too mildly. So, welcome to
the next entry, and to Nietzsche’s royally secluded, all-sufficing Heraclitus.
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