Mortals and Others

Bertrand Russell

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2009
• ISBN:
  9781134027262
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Philosophy
• Subtopic: Philosopher Biographies

Between 1931 and 1935, Bertrand Russell contributed some 156 essays to the literary pages of the American newspaper New York American. These were often fun, humorous observations on the very real issues of the day, such as the Depression, the rise of Nazism and Prohibition, to more perennial themes such as love, parenthood, education and friendship. Availablefor the first timein the Routledge Classics series in a singlevolume, this pithy, provocative and often-personal collection of essays brings together the very best of Russell's many contributions to the New York American, and proves just as engaging for today's readers as they were in the 1930s.

Volume I

INTRODUCTION

Bertrand Russell’s occasional essays typically exhibit both the serious and the less serious side of his personality. Even if the subject of an essay is light and even, perhaps, frivolous-sounding, he still manages to come up with an angle on it which is worthy of serious consideration. Consider, for instance, ‘Who May Use Lipstick?’. In his answer to this question he notes that the largest group of women who may not use it are school teachers, which leads him to consider the reasons behind this particular prohibition, and, consequently, to the sexual constraints under which these women work, and, finally, to the effect these constraints are likely to have on the children under their tutelage. No one will doubt that he has reached important matters here, although hardly anyone would have expected it when they read the title. The ability to surprise his readers is one of Russell’s enduring characteristics.

The essays in this volume vary considerably in their structure, for Russell was inclined to let the content determine the overall logic of his treatment of it. There are, however, recurring features which mark them as his, unmistakably. Among them are his use of historical (or contemporary) events to illustrate a point, of appeals to his own experience to sharpen the force of what he wants to say, of wit to trap the hostile reader into giving a point otherwise dismissed out of hand sympathetic attention, of logical analysis to lay out the alternatives requiring discussion, and of a dazzling command of the English language which never fails to charm his readers.

After philosophy Russell was probably most interested in history, especially when it came to his recreational reading. During the course of a very long life he wrote a number of essays designed to encourage others to share this passion; one of them, ‘The Consolations of History’, is reprinted here. In his opinion a knowledge of history is essential to being civilised; he would certainly have agreed with his fellow philosopher, George Santayana, that ‘those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.’ History lays out for us the ideas that have been tried and found to work, as well as those that have been tried and found not to work; consequently, those particular dead ends can, if knowledge of them becomes widely disseminated, be avoided in future. From the study of history we also learn something very important about the range of actual human behaviour, such knowledge tends to make us more tolerant of those with whom time obliges us to live. Take, for instance, this marvellous illustration of collective human gullibility from ‘An Outline of Intellectual Rubbish’ in Russell’s Unpopular Essays (p. 145):

I admire especially a certain prophetess who lived beside a lake in northern New York State about the year 1820. She announced to her numerous followers that she possessed the power of walking on water, and that she proposed to do so at 11 o’clock on a certain morning. At the stated time, the faithful assembled in their thousands beside the lake. She spoke to them saying: ‘Are you all entirely persuaded that I can walk on water?’ With one voice they replied: ‘We are.’ ‘In that case’, she announced, ‘there is no need for me to do so.’ And they all went home much edified.

This story lays bare an important and disturbing point about human beings, namely, that in groups which become charged with emotion they tend to relax, and even to lose for a time, the use of their critical faculties. Knowing this story lessens our surprise when we hear of an absurd notion which has a wide currency. And the more such historical accounts we know, the better equipped we are to deal intelligently with the problems and perplexities of our own age. There is, when all is said and done, very little that is new under the sun.

Citation of historical examples is also used to contrast our age with an earlier time. In ‘The Menace of Old Age’ Russell observes that doctors have learned how to prolong life, but have done nothing to ensure that our capacities remain at a high level in old age. Despite this failure, the populace as a whole praises the work of the doctors. In the sixteenth century a different standard prevailed: ‘When Pope Adrian VI (the last non-Italian to occupy the Papal See) died a few months after his elevation, deputations of eminent Romans marched with congratulations to the house of his physician.’ Such thoughts now would lead to a suit for malpractice. Russell’s point, of course, is that current practice is not the unmitigated good it is often represented to be.

Russell tends to use many more historical examples than he does contemporary ones. No doubt the reason for this is that the historical stories have already stood the test of time and are unlikely to perish utterly, whereas the happenings of today will probably sink without a trace despite their seeming urgency. But his essays do occasionally mention current matters, as, for example, in ‘On Economic Security’ when he notes that about the only persons alive (in 1933) with a secure income were ‘those Indian Princes who obtain a salary from the British Government on condition of living in Europe.’ One is often astonished in reading Russell by the bewildering variety of facts with which he was acquainted. In this particular case he probably learned of this tiny class of persons from his work with Indians who sought independence for their country from British rule. Still, to have had it at the front of his mind for use in illustrating a point in an essay is remarkable. He seems never to have forgotten anything which had once come to his attention.

These essays are literally alive with allusions to his own experience. In ‘On Politicians’ he remarks that nearly everyone casts their votes in an election for a reason other than the superior merit of their candidate. Most when asked trace their membership of a political party to the fact that their father had belonged to it, and they readily admit that voting for that party’s candidate is habitual with them. Russell cites himself in support of this observation: ‘I myself, in England, vote for the Labour Party because my father was a Radical; my father was a Radical because his father was a Liberal; my grandfather was a Liberal because his father was a Whig; and he was a Whig because his ancestors obtained abbey land from Henry VIII. Having derived my radicalism from such a mercenary source, shall I turn Conservative? The very idea appals me.’ In this case Russell describes himself as sharing an important characteristic with nearly everyone else. But in ‘On Labelling People’ he separates himself from the herd: ‘When the gushing hostess says to me “Oh Mr Russell, I know you are so fond of books”, I wish I could reply, with the manner of Dr Johnson, “Madam, I never read a book when some less unprofitable manner of disposing of my time is available.” ’ In ‘Are Criminals Worse than Other People?’ Russell provides us with a vivid description of those he met in Brixton Prison during the six months he was confined there for opposing the First World War. The personal references in these essays constitute a series of grace notes to his autobiographical writings.

Russell was one of the wittiest writers of this century, and by their very nature these little essays provide him with an excellent opportunity to display his wit. ‘Wit’, as I am using the term here, is displayed in two types of remark: first, those that are clever and lively and made in an amusing way; and second, those that reveal an incongruous relationship in a surprising way. One of the most remarkable examples of a witty remark of the first type is found in The ABC of Relativity: ‘We all have a tendency to think that the world must confirm to our prejudices. The opposite view involves some effort of thought, and most people would die sooner than think – in fact, they do so’ (p. 166). Could any other writer of this century have written that? In ‘On Being Good’ he remarks: ‘Some fool, long ago – probably a Roman – said that to know how to command, a man must first learn how to obey. This is the opposite of the truth.’ Readers are bound to notice points put so provocatively. Here is an example of the second kind (with an example of the first kind thrown in for good measure): ‘There is a popular notion that vegetarians are mild and gentle folk who would not hurt a fly. Perhaps they would not hurt a fly. As to this, I cannot speak, but their charity towards flies certainly does not extend to human beings. Perhaps the most powerful argument in favour of a vegetarian diet is the vigour and pugnacity which it gives to those who practise it.’ It will hardly surprise the reader to learn that he called this essay ‘On the Fierceness of Vegetarians.’ In ‘On Corporal Punishment’ we find this paradigm: ‘Men who, while they were schoolboys, were caned or flogged, almost invariably believe that they are the better for it. This belief itself, to my mind, is one of its bad effects.’ This important observation could hardly be put more succinctly or more effectively.

As might be expected of an eminent logician, Russell often begins an essay by laying out the alternatives requiring his consideration. ‘On Modern Uncertainty’ opens with this witty observation: ‘There have been four sorts of ages in the world’s history. There have been ages when everybody thought they knew everything, ages when nobody thought they knew anything, ages when clever people thought they knew much and stupid people thought they knew little, and ages when stupid people thought they knew much and clever people thought they knew little. The first sort of age is one of stability, the second of slow decay, the third of progress, and the fourth of disaster.’ In 1932 it seemed to Russell that the world was tottering into the last state, and that disaster was imminent. Scientists, economists, philosophers and statesmen all seemed unable to offer a cure for the world’s troubles. ‘The only people left with positive opinions are those who are too stupid to know when their opinions are absurd. Consequently the world is ruled by fools, and the intelligent count for nothing in the councils of the nations.’ With the great depression deepening and a second world war looming, this gloomy assessment was not far off the mark.

An essay where his analytical skills are very much on display is ‘Illegal?’, which would be better named ‘Should Suicide Be Illegal?’. It is Russell’s only sustained discussion of suicide, which is surprising given that, by his own witness, he contemplated suicide on more than one occasion earlier in his life. In England and in most of the United States at the time he was writing both suicide and attempted suicide were illegal, positions he regarded as irrational. Suicide should not be a crime, in his opinion, since it consists of persons disposing, wisely or unwisely, of what is legally their own property, namely their lives. He arrives at this position by examining all the usual reasons given in support of the contention that suicide is a form of murder and rejecting them all. Concerning the criminality of attempted suicide he is scornful: ‘When a man finds life so painful that he tries to kill himself he is given a dose of prison to teach him to find life more pleasant.’ The purpose of punishment ought to be to deter, but in this case it is most unlikely to achieve its purpose.

Russell’s command of the English language is truly extraordinary. He knows and employs the usual literary devices; he is especially adept at using irony to make his points. During his discussion of why teachers may not use lipstick, he remarks: ‘Hypocrisy is, of course, very necessary to success in life and there is much to be said for the view that those concerned in education should be competent to teach it.’ The intelligent reader (and Russell always credits his readers with more than average intelligence) nods approval of his intended meaning. Unfortunately, the literal-minded (and the stupid) form the opinion that Russell approves of hypocrisy. Clever writers do run certain risks when they allow their works to be printed and sold, especially when the subject of the work is one of social or political concern about which all readers, however unintelligent or ill-informed, consider themselves expert. On more than one occasion Russell did find himself in trouble with certain groups, and sometimes he paid a rather heavy price. But even imprisonment did not lead him to alter his writing style. Until he was a very old man he continued to delight his sympathetic readers and to provoke his detractors – as he does in these little essays – by the enormous skill with which he stated his views on the important topics of the day.

JOHN G. SLATER
University of Toronto

PREFACE

In the early 1930s, the New York American and other newspapers owned by William Randolph Hearst published a literary page to which a large number of writers and artists contributed. Among them were some distinguished authors, both English and American: Aldous Huxley, G. K. Chesterton, Havelock Ellis, V. Sackville-West, Rebecca West, Philip Wylie, James Thurber, H. L. Mencken, Gertrude Atherton, Robert Benchley, Ogden Nash, Lewis Browne, and Ludwig Lewissohn.

Bertrand Russell was one of the regulars, contributing a total of 156 essays from 22 July 1931 to 2 May 1935. In one year alone (1933), he contributed fifty items, virtually one each week.

Intended as they were for a newspaper audience, his essays made frequent reference to the events and problems of the day, the Depression, the rise of Nazism, Prohibition, the ‘New Deal’, and so on, but to a large extent, though many of the allusions are temporal, the themes are perennial: love, marriage, freedom, individuality, character, parenthood, peace and war, brotherhood, progress, knowledge, truth, science, ethics, education, and so on. After all, they were written by a philosopher – ‘the spectator of all time and all existence,’ in Plato’s phrase – by one of the great minds and personalities of the twentieth century, by a man who by the end of his long and full life had pursued with vigour and even distinction five or six careers in addition to that of philosopher: mathematician, logician, educator, moralist, propagandist for social reform, and agitator for peace – and all these roles to a degree find expression in these essays.

When the essays first appeared, Lord Russell (as by then he was) was no stranger to America. He had first visited the United States in 1896 with his first wife, herself an American, staying for three months, meeting her relatives and lecturing at Bryn Mawr College and at Johns Hopkins University. He had come to the States again in 1914, 1924, 1927, 1929, and 1931.

Of all the essays which appeared during those five years in this series, only seven have ever been reprinted in a book. A few of the essays were reprinted also in certain British magazines, and one, in translation, appeared in a German magazine. This is the extent of it! By far the greater proportion of the essays have suffered the fate of yesteryear’s newspaper: oblivion. They do not deserve oblivion. The publishers and I are confident that the candid and judicious reader will agree with this judgement, and it is for this reason that we make them available to a new generation of readers.

We include in the present two-volume collection all of the Hearst essays except some which dealt with transitory issues and the four which were reprinted in Russell’s books during his lifetime. We are reprinting for the first time an essay (‘On Being Edifying’) which appeared to our knowledge only in the British journal, Time and Tide. We include it in this collection and also include some previously unpublished essays because they were written at about the same time as the Hearst essays and are similar to them in style and format.

Though unostentatious and sometimes even casual, the essays reveal Russell’s genius: his wit, his irony, his perspicuousness, his erudition, his moral sensitivity, his boldness – why not say it? – his wisdom. Our generation has as much urgent need for his rational clarity and his sense of concern for mankind as that generation that first read the essays forty years ago. Moreover, they are a delight to read, for Russell’s love of fun keeps bubbling over in them all.

I have exercised my editorial privileges lightly, supplying a few explanatory notes for the more transitory and recondite allusions here and there and indulging, in modest degree, my own prejudices relating to capitals, commas, spelling, hyphens, and the like. I have occasionally broken some of the longer sentences and paragraphs into shorter ones and very occasionally recast sentences to enhance clarity.

I have Mr Kenneth M. Blackwell, archivist of the Bertrand Russell Archives at McMaster University, to thank for his encouragement on this project and Barry Feinberg and Continuum i Ltd of London for making it a reality. I may be permitted to add that Lord Russell knew of the project and approved it, but death prevented his seeing it realised. I dedicate the volume to his revered memory.

HARRY RUJA
San Diego, California

ON JEALOUSY

One of the dividing lines between people who are old-fashioned and people who have a modern outlook is as to jealousy. The traditional outlook was that while jealousy is to be condemned when it is unfounded, it is to be counted as just indignation where cause for it exists. Othello did wrong in murdering Desdemona because she was innocent, but if she had sinned his action would have been becoming to an officer and a gentleman. Appeals to the unwritten law are still not uncommon, and most people still view leniently a man who is driven to violence by his wife’s infidelity. Indeed a tolerant attitude in such circumstances is viewed by many as unmanly.

This attitude causes jealousy to be much more violent than it need be. There is undoubtedly an instinctive element in it, but the instinctive element is greatly inflamed by the sense that one’s rights are being infringed. When a man’s beliefs as to his rights change, there is a corresponding change both in the violence of his jealousy and in the occasions on which he feels it. A man who in one social environment will be led by jealousy to commit murder will in another environment be led only to feel a bit surly.

Should we desire the diminution of jealousy, it can be brought about in this way. I think as regards the extreme case of the so-called unwritten law there can be no rational doubt. If a man swindles you out of your money, you may be very angry, but you are expected to seek redress through the law, not through private vengeance. It is incompatible with the whole idea of a civilised state that private wrongs should be redressed by private violence.

But what are we to say of less extreme forms of jealousy? Let it be granted that it would be better not to give grounds for jealousy, but that being admitted, we know nevertheless that many people will give such grounds. So long as jealousy is considered socially admirable, people will conceal such actions as might cause it, with the result that the most intimate of human relations becomes filled with deceit. Every man knows that he is liable to an occasional lapse from technical fidelity without on that account wishing his marriage to be broken up, but while everyone knows this concerning himself, few people can manage to believe it with regard to their partner. Everybody carries about with him two kinds of sexual psychology: one applicable to himself, the other to the pe...