Plato Part II: Bertrand Russell

Russell's Review of Plato

For those unfamiliar, Bertrand Russell was of the greatest minds of the twentieth century. He was a world class mathematician and logician, and was a highly articulate and insightful philosopher, earning him immense respect during his time and beyond. One of his most notable works is “Principia Mathematica,” a lengthy proof spanning hundreds of pages that demonstrates the simple fact that 1+1=2 (!).

Another book he wrote, “The History of Western Philosophy,” is what we are interested in, particularly what he discusses in chapter XV, the Theory of Ideas - his critique on Plato’s Republic. This will demonstrate a classic example of the ancient philosopher’s attempt to articulate his worldview with utmost clarity, but to the modern thinker, even the smartest and sharpest one around, the idea just flies right over, completely escaping comprehension.¹

The Forms

It is fair to say that the most central point of Plato’s entire work is the Theory of the Forms. We introduced this idea briefly in the previous post, and we will now expound. The idea posits that everything we perceive in this world is but an imperfect shadow of its true essence. Let's take the example of a horse. There is no specific horse that we can point to and say that this particular horse encapsulates the essence of the horse. Instead, says Plato, there is separate entity which is the true essence of ‘horse’ - the conceptual idea of the horse, and every horse we see is nothing more than a flawed manifestation of that. Plato argues that this ‘essential horse’ exists in a more genuine reality.

According to Plato, there are two distinct worlds, the visible realm and the intellectual realm. The visible realm is the one we perceive with our five senses, whereas the intelligible realm is beyond sensory perception and can only be grasped through intellect. This is the realm where the Forms exist. The conception of horse, i.e., the horse of the Forms, is the home to the “true” horse, the “idea of horse;” while the visible realm is where we sense the physical - and thereby a bunch of imperfect manifestations of that horse.

Russell’s Critique

1. Literary Importance

Ever the good gentleman, Russell first takes the time to appreciate some of Plato’s ideas. He likes the literary aspect, what Plato was picking up on in relation to the nature of language. Plato’s idea taps into a profound insight into the process of categorizing words. For instance, why do we assign the category of 'horse' to such a diverse group of animals? Every horse is so different from the next and perhaps should each have their own personal word (name)? Plato's assertion that there exists a concept of 'horse' that encompasses all individual horses provides a basis for a unified umbrella term to represent all horses.²

But Plato wasn’t satisfied with a mere literary observation; he went so far as to assert that the ‘concept’ of horse is the actual horse; only on the side serving as the basis for the literary element.³ This speculative, unscientific conclusion is a disappointment to Russell.

According to Russell, there are no actual two realities; this addition is but a construct of Plato’s mind, which although he sure believed to be valid, it is completely conjectural. While the idea of the Forms contribute to our understanding of language, they fall short in explaining the true nature of reality.

2. A Higher Reality

This introduces a second point in understanding Plato, that he mixes another philosophical idea into his conclusion: the idea that a thinker, through deep contemplation, can have an experience that appears to connect with a higher reality, something Russell says he himself observed many a time. Plato mistook this with an actual higher reality, which he labeled the world of the Forms.

Of course, this second point was actually Plato’s main point, but while Russell manages to pick up on it, he begins a short tirade of complete dismissal and distrust:

“Every one who has done any kind of creative work has experienced, in a greater or less degree, the state of mind in which, after long labour, truth, or beauty, appears, or seems to appear, in a sudden glory - it may be only about some small matter, or it may be about the universe. The experience is, at the moment, very convincing; doubt may come later, but at the time there is utter certainty. I think most of the best creative work, in art, in science, in literature, and in philosophy, has been the result of such a moment. Whether it comes to others as to me, I cannot say. For my part, I have found that, when I wish to write a book on some subject, I must first soak myself in detail, until all the separate parts of the subject-matter are familiar; then, some day, if I am fortunate, I perceive the whole, with all its parts duly interrelated. After that, I only have to write down what I have seen.

The nearest analogy is first walking all over a mountain in a mist, until every path and ridge and valley is separately familiar, and then, from a distance, seeing the mountain whole and clear in bright sunshine.

This experience, I believe, is necessary to good creative work, but it is not sufficient; indeed the subjective certainty that it brings with it may be fatally misleading. William James describes a man who got the experience from laughing-gas; whenever he was under its influence, he knew the secret of the universe, but when he came to, he had forgotten it. At last, with immense effort, he wrote down the secret before the vision had faded. When completely recovered, he rushed to see what he had written. It was: "A smell of petroleum prevails throughout."

What seems like sudden insight may be misleading, and must be tested soberly when the divine intoxication has passed. Plato's vision, which he completely trusted at the time when he wrote the Republic, needs ultimately the help of a parable, the parable of the cave, in order to convey its nature to the reader…”

And herein lies Russell’s grievous error.

For next time.

1. After we finish this part of the series, we will, God willing, discuss good ole’ Bertie’s mistake about the history of philosophy more generally.

2. Chomsky has made an eerily similar observation about how children inherently grasp the concept of a triangle, even if the triangle they encounter is imperfect or different from what they were initially taught. Logically speaking, since each triangle is quite distinct from the others, one might expect a new word to describe each one. Chomsky’s theory of language basically suggests that our minds possess inherent concepts that act as the fundamental building blocks of language, and as we mature, these concepts develop naturally, which is also why the different languages all follow the same general structure. This insight is quite perceptive and is really not so different from Plato, albeit with a less mystical tones.

3. I hope to discuss this important insight later on in the series.