The central contention of the New Atheism of Richard Dawkins, Daniel Dennett, Sam Harris, and Christopher Hitchens is that there has for several centuries been a war between science and religion, that religion has been steadily losing that war, and that at this point in human history a completely secular scientific account of the world has been worked out in such thorough and convincing detail that there is no longer any reason why a rational and educated person should find the claims of any religion the least bit worthy of attention.
But as Edward Feser argues inThe Last Superstition, in fact there is not, and never has been, any war between science and religion at all. There has instead been a conflict between two entirely philosophical conceptions of the natural order: on the one hand, the classical teleological vision of Plato, Aristotle, Augustine, and Aquinas, on which purpose or goal-directedness is as inherent a feature of the physical world as mass or electric charge; and the modern mechanical vision of Descartes, Hobbes, Locke, and Hume, according to which the physical world is comprised of nothing more than purposeless, meaningless particles in motion. As it happens, on the classical teleological picture, the existence of God, the immortality of the soul, and the natural-law conception of morality are rationally unavoidable. Modern atheism and secularism have thus always crucially depended for their rational credentials on the insinuation that the modern, mechanical picture of the world has somehow been established by science. Yet this modern mechanical picture has never been established by science, and cannot be, for it is not a scientific theory in the first place but merely a philosophical interpretation of science. Moreover, as Feser shows, the philosophical arguments in its favor given by the early modern philosophers were notable only for being surprisingly weak. The true reasons for its popularity were then, and are now, primarily political: It was a tool by which the intellectual foundations of ecclesiastical authority could be undermined and the way opened toward a new secular and liberal social order oriented toward commerce and technology. So as to further these political ends, it was simply stipulated, by fiat as it were, that no theory inconsistent with the mechanical picture of the world would be allowed to count as scientific. As the centuries have worn on and historical memory has dimmed, this act of dogmatic stipulation has falsely come to be remembered as a discovery.
However, not only is this modern philosophical picture rationally unfounded, it is demonstrably false. For the mechanical conception of the natural world, when worked out consistently, absurdly entails that rationality, and indeed the human mind itself, are illusory. The so-called scientific worldview championed by the New Atheists thus inevitably undermines its own rational foundations; and into the bargain (and contrary to the moralistic posturing of the New Atheists) it undermines the foundations of any possible morality as well. By contrast, and as The Last Superstition demonstrates, the classical teleological picture of nature can be seen to find powerful confirmation in developments from contemporary philosophy, biology, and physics; moreover, morality and reason itself cannot possibly be made sense of apart from it. The teleological vision of the ancients and medievals is thereby rationally vindicated - and with it the religious worldview they based upon it.
This new edition of The Heart (out of print for nearly 30 years) is the flagship volume in a series of Dietrich von Hildebrand's works to be published by St. Augustine's Press in collaboration with the Dietrich von Hildebrand Legacy Project. Founded in 2004, the Legacy Project exists in the first place to translate the many German writings of von Hildebrand into English.
While many revere von Hildebrand as a religious author, few realize that he was a philosopher of great stature and importance. Those who knew von Hildebrand as philosopher held him in the highest esteem. Louis Bouyer, for example, once said that von Hildebrand was the most important Catholic philosopher in Europe between the two world wars. Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger expressed even greater esteem when he said: I am personally convinced that, when, at some time in the future, the intellectual history of the Catholic Church in the twentieth century is written, the name of Dietrich von Hildebrand will be most prominent among the figures of our time.
The Heart is an accessible yet important philosophical contribution to the understanding of the human person. In this work von Hildebrand is concerned with rehabilitating the affective life of the human person. He thinks that for too long philosophers have held it in suspicion and thought of it as embedded in the body and hence as being much inferior to intellect and will. In reality, he argues, the heart, the center of affectivity, has many different levels, including an eminently personal level; at this level affectivity is just as important a form of personal life as intellect and will. Von Hildebrand develops the idea that properly personal affectivity, far than tending away from an objective relation to being, is in fact one major way in which we transcend ourselves and give being its due. Von Hildebrand also developed the important idea that the heart in many respects is more the real self of the person than his intellect or will.
At the same time, the author shows full realism about the possible deformities of affective life; he offers rich analyses of what he calls affective atrophy and affective hypertrophy. The second half of The Heart offers a remarkable analysis of the affectivity of the God-Man.
This edition is the first that treats Hamlet as the work of a philosophical poet concerned with knowing the nature of the world, particularly the human world. Where conventional editions lift the play out of its specific setting and analyze it in the light of the social, cultural, and political circumstances of Elizabethan England, Jan Blits takes the play's dramatic setting of early Renaissance Denmark as indispensable to understanding its rich meaning. In providing notations and commentary on Hamlet, Blits sets aside the historicist principle or prejudice, pervasive throughout literary studies today. Blits, by contrast, strives to understand the play entirely on its own terms. He inflicts no literary or philosophic theory--no parochial professional preconceptions--upon the play. Instead, he aims to be fully receptive to what Shakespeare wrote and try to draw out of the play the substance that he deliberately put into it. His treatment of Horatio is particularly stunning in this regard.
Though they differ from each other, there are two generally trustworthy texts of Hamlet--namely, the Second Quarto (1604-5) and the Folio (1623). Blits does not consult the First Quarto (1603), which contains a much different dialogue, some different character names, and omits some famous passages. Blits points out important variations and refrains from pronouncing which are clearly right or wrong. He omits references to secondary works (including his own) as distractions from the play itself. The Bibliography lists many primary and secondary readings that readers will find helpful. He follows the line-numbering of the New Cambridge Shakespeare Edition, edited by Philips Edwards.
Teachers and students of Shakespeare will find a valuable resource in Blits' new edition of Hamlet, which brings readers as close to the mind and heart of the real Shakespeare as possible and remains untouched by the fingerprints of literary theory and other mechanisms unknown and inconsequential to Shakespeare. This is also an indispensable tool in helping teachers in one of the greatest challenges of the classical classroom--namely, how to teach Shakespeare?
This new series of scholarly reflections on the interpretation of Socratic philosophy is an inviting combination of intuition and meticulous analysis. Ryszard Legutko provides the reader a monumental service in his confrontation of the most important and influential literature written on the subject to date. He likewise opens the conversation to European contributions and renders Socrates truly a figurehead of future philosophy far beyond being a pillar in ancient thought.
Legutko argues that Socrates was systematic, and his moral views were ultimately grounded in his theory of knowledge that was composed of logically connected propositions (logoi). Reading Plato, Legutko's intuition that Socrates was quite the opposite of the quirky, ironic, and enigmatic character is supported by his demonstration of Socrates' consistency, unity, and hierarchy of thought. He extends Socrates' coherency to a criticism of the democratic mind, framing him even less as a random spit-fire and more the grounded observer. Socrates, argues Letgutko, is well aware of the importance of general concepts and he intended to free these concepts from democratic distortions and give them firm and independent foundations.
In short, 'the way of the gadfly' is a beautiful and precise exploration of order that seeks to be changed by the awareness of this order, and how to wield concepts apart from the motives of arrogance and chaos--neither of which represent nature, and therefore are foreign to the way of the gadfly.
In offering this proposition of Thomas Aquinas to our thought, Josef Pieper uses traditional wisdom in order to throw light on present-day reality and present-day psychological problems. What, in fact, does one pursue in pursuing happiness? What, in the consensus of the wisdom of the early Greeks, of Plato and Aristotle, of the New Testament, of Augustine and Aquinas, is that condition of perfect bliss toward which all life and effort tend by nature?
In this profound and illuminating inquiry, Pieper considers the nature of contemplation, and the meaning and goal of life.
But this small work will interpret sin in its true -- that is, serious -- meaning. What will emerge from its analysis is the discovery that the concept of sin can still serve to unlock the mystery of existence, at least for a thinking that wants to press down to the very foundations.
Needless to say, such an effort will require a kind of mining energy of an archeologist of ideas who knows how to recover what was once known (or at least suspected) from time immemorial but has now been forgotten. But Josef Pieper does more than bring to bear on this issue his famous powers of excavation; he also makes meaningful the concept of sin to the ways of thinking and speaking of our time.
Readers of his work already know Pieper as an extraordinarily fitting master in this art of making the wisdom of the ages a living reality today. And in this work he brings Plato, Augustine, and Thomas Aquinas into a living dialogue with T. S. Eliot, Andre Gide, even with Jean-Paul Sartre. As he shows in this powerful work, none of these writers leaves any doubt that the fact of sin is central: It is the willful denial of one's own life-ground, a denial that alone rightly bears the name of sin. Paradoxically, this reality is both willed and yet also pre-given, that is, both adventitious and yet somehow innate to our existence -- a paradox which, next to the mystery of existence itself, is the most impenetrable mystery of all.
In this stimulating and still-timely study, Josef Pieper takes up a theme of paramount importance to his thinking - that festivals belong by rights among the great topics of philosophical discussion. As he develops his theory of festivity, the modern age comes under close and painful scrutiny. It is obvious that we no longer know what festivity is, namely, the celebration of existence under various symbols
Pieper exposes the pseudo-festivals, in their harmless and their sinister forms: traditional feasts contaminated by commercialism; artificial holidays created in the interest of merchandisers; holidays by coercion, decreed by dictators the world over; festivals as military demonstrations; holidays empty of significance. And lastly we are given the apocalyptic vision of a nihilistic world which would seek its release not in festivities but in destruction.
Formulated with Pieper's customary clarity and elegance, enhanced by brilliantly chosen quotations, this is an illuminating contribution to the understanding of traditional and contemporary experience.
The Federalist Papers offers an expansive vision of the American Constitution and the original sense of the federal character of the American government. What is contained in these eternally studied arguments is a complex construction of American federalism, and approaching this body of work with its full context in view is necessary but often difficult to achieve. Harvey Flaumenhaft has therefore provided readers with a unique, visual resource to be used as a companion to the primary text written centuries ago.
As Flaumenhaft suggests, use of The Federalist is only truly of service when students see the full picture; ripping a few lines from it to make one's own point is not representative of the elaborately structured whole. He has drawn up a kind of unpacked proof for the arguments made in The Federalist, and seeks to help readers see the structure in that sequence if they examine a depiction in which the copious items are spatially arranged to show their complex relations of subordination, coordination, and dependence. [...] The reader with this visual aid can better discern how the clear but elaborate structure fits together.
Flaumenhaft includes two further documents after giving them the same treatment--namely, the table of claims of authorship of papers in The Federalist, and the Articles of Confederation. The latter is important as it is precisely this document that the Constitutions of the United States was meant to replace. This is an important guide to early American history studies, American government, and political thought taken more broadly. Flaumenhaft's interdisciplinary use of geometric dissection is a daring and unorthodox invitation to see The Federalist like never before. The visual rendering of this dense and critically important collection of papers is furthermore a key tool in bringing younger students to a deeper appreciation of its purpose and accomplishment.
This edition of A Midsummer Night's Dream takes the comedy seriously. Like my previous Hackett editions, it gives full weight to Shakespeare's dramatic setting, which other editors (and scholars) almost always ignore or at least fail adequately to consider. Ancient Athens is the core, not the mere background, of Midsummer Night's Dream. As we shall see, Shakespeare focuses, in particular, on the love of the beautiful and the triumph of learning and art, along with the rise of democracy, which, as Pericles' famously claims, are the hallmarks of Athens. 'We are lovers of the beautiful with thrift, and lovers of wisdom without softness' (Thucydides, The Peloponnesian War, 2.40.1). [...]
Failure to consider classical Athens as central to Midsummer Night's Dream will cause a reader to miss not only the play's remarkable substance, but much of its sparkling comedy as well. Far from impeding the play's humor, focusing on Athens helps to bring out multi-layers of comedy that Shakespeare put there.
One of the most studied and critiqued documents of the papal magisterium is largely spoken of with regards to moral theology and the refutation of modern error. Yet Adrian Reimers points out that, as affirmed by this encyclical, the moral life is itself a realm of love and freedom, a place of intimacy with the Creator as much as interaction with others. Reimers is eager to show that the Encyclical is more innovative than it looks, just as morality is not just about the correction of error. It is not content to defend the traditional positions; it traces the paths of a profound renewal in the presentation of Catholic morality. We would gladly say that it performs a kind of discreet revolution in the conception of Christian morality, affecting the very bases that support it.
The publication of Veritatis Splendor met with vigorous opposition and even rejection within the Catholic theological community. But in Veritatis Splendor John Paul II addresses these contemporary conceptions, including dissention, coming to grips with the roots of the modern errors that have resulted in the loss of transcendence. However, the scope of Veritatis Splendor is far broader than evil and judgment of sin. The pope addresses such issues as conscience, intrinsically evil acts, and the theory of fundamental freedom. Inevitably, these discussions revolve around how to conceive the nature of the human act and the conception of natural law.
This present work examines this encyclical against the backdrop of the philosophers with whom Karol Wojtyla engaged in his own philosophical project. Of central concern to Wojtyla throughout his career were the nature and prerogatives of the human person. Among his most frequent modern interlocutors were David Hume, Immanuel Kant, the utilitarian school, and Max Scheler. The program of Wojtyla's philosophical corpus is to present an alternative account of the human person to that which has marked the post-Enlightenment world. Having shared in the sufferings of his native Poland under the Nazi occupation and then as a scholar working in Communist Poland, Wojtyla was keenly aware of the forms of materialism which formed the environment of his own life and work. He offers not only his own analyses but also provides a model for engaging with the contemporary culture.
Veritatis Splendor is a timeless examination of human, personal acts that challenges the post-modern conception of morality, love, and freedom. Reimers reorients this presentation for contemporary readers and invites readers who may have missed this foundational treatment to incorporate it into the questions and issues of our own times.