Nietzsche wanted to be a successful composer but lacked musical talent. However, he took his love of music and made music with his words. His books were written not to be read quietly and studied but to be performed. Nietzsche once said that when he first came across a new text, he asked himself if it would make him dance. He wanted his readers to sing and dance to his texts and composed his books like symphonies.

Friedrich Nietzsche

Friedrich Nietzsche was born in October 1844 into a middle-class German family in the Prussian Province of Saxony. He was named after Friedrich Wilhelm IV of Prussia, who was born on the same day as Nietzsche. His father was a religious man and local pastor; he died at age thirty-five when Nietzsche was just four years old. The cause of his father’s death is unknown. It may have been as a result of a head injury incurred during a fall or might have been a brain tumor.

Nietzsche feared that his father had passed down to him an inheritable brain condition. He was a sickly man and spent much of his life battling terrible migraines as well as other physical illnesses. Whether Nietzsche inherited a brain condition from his father is the subject of much debate. However, Nietzsche himself succumbed to mental illness and dementia and spent the last decade of his life seriously ill. He died in 1900, aged fifty-five.

Nietzsche’s illnesses notwithstanding, his output was impressive. He was capable of producing great works in very short periods. In the year 1888 alone, he produced The Case of Wagner, Twilight of the Idols, The Antichrist, Ecce Homo (not published until 1908), and Nietzsche Contra Wagner. A great philosopher and talented classicist, he was made a professor of philology at the University of Basel at just twenty-four years old. Nietzsche had a love of music.

One of the most important influences on his early development as a thinker was the German composer Richard Wagner and his wife Cosima, daughter of the Hungarian composer Franz Liszt. Indeed, his first published work, The Birth of Tragedy Out of the Spirit of Music (1872), was greatly inspired by his discussions with Wagner.

Nietzsche’s Musical Ambitions

Nietzsche did not want to simply write about music; he wanted to play and compose music for himself. Unfortunately for him, his musical ability was in no way a match for his philosophical and literary talents. While still at school, Nietzsche experimented with writing poetry and composing music. He was also the leader of a music club called ‘Germania.’ Indeed, in the 1850s, he wrote many compositions for the piano, violin, and voice. However, these were all the work of an enthusiastic amateur and showed no signs of genuine musical talent.

In 1871, Nietzsche composed a piano piece as a birthday gift for Cosima Wagner. It is rumored that her husband Richard, then still a friend and mentor to Nietzsche, privately mocked the piece. The worst reaction Nietzsche received to his music, and possibly the worst reaction any piece of music has ever received, came from the German conductor, pianist, and composer Hans von Bülow.

Bülow was instrumental in establishing Richard Wagner’s success. There was a family connection of sorts between Bülow and Wagner in that Bülow was the former husband of Cosima, Wagner’s wife. Bülow had also previously been a student of Franz Liszt, Cosima’s father. In his review of a piece of music by Nietzsche, Bülow commented that not only was it the most unmusical thing he had ever encountered, but he went on to suggest that Nietzsche’s attempts at music amounted to the rape of Euterpe, the spirit of music!

Opinions about Nietzsche’s musical abilities have softened over the years, with the occasional concert held to let others judge for themselves. However, these events are more curiosities than serious musical productions.

Nietzsche on Words and Music

Nietzsche’s first essay on music is a short 1872 effort called ‘Music and Words.’ He begins with remarks on verbal and nonverbal communication. Spoken words, he says, are symbols representing the things about which we are attempting to communicate. He says that between the word and the thing there is no connection other than the agreement among speakers of the same language that this word symbolizes that thing. To give an example, the word ‘dog’ in English attempts to communicate the idea of a domesticated descendant of the grey wolf. In French, however, the agreed-upon word is “chien.”

Nietzsche goes on to say that the sound of the spoken word conveys more meaning than the word itself. We are not affected, he says, by the essence of things, but “the play of feelings, sensations, emotions, volitions” are known to us through words. For him, any word can be used to symbolize any object. It is the emotion expressed through the spoken word that carries the impact.

In ‘Music and Words,’ Nietzsche says that all spoken words are just combinations of noise and gesture. Words, he says, cannot be uttered without physical gestures; they are tones made by “the positions of the organs of speech.” Pleasure and displeasure are expressed through the tone of the speaker, and further meaning is expressed through gesture.

The key point here is that, for Nietzsche, a word is not a “direct bridge that can take us to the innermost nature of things.” Instead, sound is far more important for conveying meaning than written words.

The Birth of Tragedy

We have seen that for Nietzsche, the sound, or the spoken word is better at communicating ideas than the written word. Knowing this, we could expect him to say that reading his works aloud would be preferable to sitting and reading the text in one’s head. And Nietzsche is no fan of sitting down. In his philosophical autobiography Ecce Homo, he writes, “Sit as little as possible; do not believe any idea that was not conceived while moving around outside, – with all your muscles in celebratory mode as well.”

However, we know that Nietzsche goes further than this. He wants his works not simply to be read aloud but sung. In a new introduction to his first published book, The Birth of Tragedy (1872), Nietzsche said that the text should be sung to be properly understood. It is clear from what he has said about many of his works that Nietzsche considers his writing to be music. Writing in 1888, in Ecce Homo, he refers to his Thus Spoke Zarathustra (1883) as a piece of music. In addition, in a letter to his friend Peter Gast, Nietzsche referred to The Case of Wagner as “operetta music.” It was also in a letter to Gast that Nietzsche referred to Zarathustra as a symphony.

It seems that the failed composer saw the opportunity in this writing to create the music he could not achieve in the conventional way.

We have seen that Nietzsche considered his Zarathustra as a symphony. In his 2017 text Nietzsche’s Final Teaching, Nietzsche scholar Michael Allen Gillespie makes the case that Twilight of the Idols is also structured like a classical symphony. The text has the characteristic three (or four) movements, with themes, developments, recapitulations, and codas. Gillespie argues that even a time signature is recognizably present.

Singing Nietzsche?

We saw that music was a central interest for Nietzsche. He had aspirations to compose music, if not necessarily as a professional, then certainly as a gifted amateur. However, as we have seen from Richard Wagner’s response to Nietzsche’s composition for piano (some sources say Wagner was rolling on the floor laughing) and Bülow’s crushing review, Nietzsche did not have a gift for music.

But his love for music, without a doubt, influenced his work. We have also seen that Nietzsche’s texts can be read not just as writing on music but as a kind of music itself. Nietzsche clearly wanted his texts to be performed, or at least to be read aloud. We remember that in his essay ‘Music and Words’ he was interested in how emotions were conveyed through spoken words. In particular, how, along with gestures, the “play of feeling and sensations” can be expressed vocally when giving a reading. Clearly, Nietzsche recognized the value of musicality in his texts.

Nietzsche was a classicist and greatly admired the Greeks. In the Ancient world, philosophy was primarily spoken. Ideas were, of course, written down (otherwise we would not have access to them today), but texts were typically considered a means of preserving ideas rather than something one would sit down to read. It is notable that Socrates, a hugely influential figure for Nietzsche, never wrote anything down. Indeed, he was opposed to the written word, deeming it harmful to learning. Philosophy, then, in the Greek world, was expressed in the spoken word.

Singing surely conveys more emotion through tone and gesture than merely reading aloud. Nietzsche wants to communicate as much feeling as possible through his works. It therefore makes sense for him to want his books to be sung.

Euripides’ Cyclops is the only satyr play that has survived intact. We do not know anything about the performance history of this play, or why or even when exactly it was written. The plot borrows from well-known versions of Odysseus’ encounter with the cyclops Polyphemus. The plot is simple and brutal, but with comic elements provided by Silenus and the satyrs. The play is perhaps easy to dismiss, but Euripides raises some interesting questions about power and brutality.

The Main Characters

The three main characters in the play are Polyphemus, a cyclops; Odysseus, the cunning Homeric hero; and Silenus, the former companion and tutor of Dionysus. There are also a number of satyrs, described as Silenus’ sons, that act as the chorus. Odysseus’ shipwrecked crew is present, but none have speaking roles and were probably not depicted on stage.

Silenus has a few guises in Greek mythology. Sometimes he is depicted as a drunken man and other times as a satyr-like creature. In Euripides’ Cyclops, he is depicted as an old man. In the play, Silenus is toadying, coarse, sly, and greedy. He is there for comic effect, as are his sons, the satyrs.

Odysseus is the same character we see in the Odyssey. He uses his cunning to outsmart the cyclops and escape. However, in Euripides’ play, we do not see all of the tricks Odysseus uses in Homer’s story.

Polyphemus is a cyclops. He lives on an island with his cyclops brothers. They are referenced but not seen. Cyclopes are solitary creatures and self-sufficient. Polyphemus lives off the sheep, which he forces the satyrs to look after. They were captured and enslaved after becoming shipwrecked on the island. Polyphemus is brutish but not unintelligent. He believes himself to be superior to the gods by virtue of his brute strength.

The Play Opens With Silenus

The play opens with Silenus outside the cave of Polyphemus, a cyclops. Silenus has a rake in his hand, and he is speaking aloud about his woes. His speech is a convenient piece of exposition that quickly fills in the audience on what is going on.

He calls out to Bromius (another name for Dionysus, the Greek god of wine, fertility, and theater, of whom Silenus was a tutor and companion). We learn that Silenus, along with his children, was shipwrecked after setting off on a quest to find Dionysus, who had fallen foul of Hera. The island on which they found themselves is occupied by the cyclopes, monstrous one-eyed ogres. They were taken prisoner by Polyphemus and forced to serve him.

This story would have been well-known to Euripides’ audience. They would also have recognized the Cyclopes and Polyphemus from The Odyssey. After Silenus’s speech, we see his children return from tending to Polyphemus’s sheep and hear news of the arrival of a Greek ship. Silenus does not yet know that this is Odysseus’ ship, but the Greek audience would have no doubt over who has just arrived.

Odysseus and his crew quickly arrive and introduce themselves. We get a bit of backstory and learn more about the cyclopes from Silenus. One thing that is established is that there is no wine on the island. The audience would know what a hardship this would be for Silenus! Odysseus promises to share some wine from his ship in return for food.

The wine is exchanged for food, and Silenus is delighted to taste “the drink of Dionysus.” The scene is quite merry as Silenus enjoys his first taste of wine in some time, but suddenly Polyphemus returns home.

Polyphemus Captures Odysseus and His Men

Polyphemus is angry and wants to know (a) if all the day’s work has been done, (b) about the status of his dinner, and (c) who Odysseus and his crewmates are. The satyrs reply that Polyphemus’ dinner is ready and he can have anything he wants. Silenus, lying, claims that the strangers beat him up and attempted to steal Polyphemus’ goods. He also says that they bragged about capturing Polyphemus and selling him as a slave. In response to this revelation, the cyclops asks for butchering tools and a fire to be made. He intends to eat the newcomers.

Silenus’ children are more honest and tell Polyphemus that their father is lying. They tell the truth that Odysseus and his men came honestly and offered to trade wine for food. Silenus protests, but Polyphemus does not believe him.

Odysseus pleads his case and appeals to Zeus as well as other gods and the sacred idea of hospitality. It was considered a great sin for the Greeks to treat honest visitors badly. However, Polyphemus is unmoved by Odysseus’ words. The scene ends with the cyclops driving the unfortunate men into his cave while Odysseus calls out to Zeus, “protector of strangers,” to help him and his men.

Odysseus Sets His Plan in Motion

Odysseus appears and starts talking to Silenus’ sons. We learn that Polyphemus has already slaughtered, butchered, and eaten two of Odysseus’ crewmates. None of the gory details are spared as the horrible fate of these men is recounted. Odysseus says that while the other sailors were huddled together in terror, he was forced to act as the cyclops’ servant during the meal. But as he did so, he formulated a plan.

The wily Greek, known for his cunning, gave Polyphemus some of the wine to drink. Since there is no wine on the island, the cyclops is not used to alcohol and is unaware of its effects. Odysseus plans to wait until the monster passes out drunk, and then, with the help of Silenus’ sons, he plans to burn out Polyphemus’ single eye with a huge wooden beam, sharpened and glowing red from the fire.

Silenus’ sons readily agree to help: they hate the cyclops as much as Odysseus and, like him, they are desperate to escape the island. Once Polyphemus is blinded or killed, they will all slip away to Odysseus’ boat and make their escape.

The drunken Polyphemus enters, carrying the wineskin, and tells the others that he is going to visit his brothers, the other cyclopes on the island, to share the drink with them. Obviously, this would scupper the plan, and so Odysseus (and Silenus, who has joined the scene) convinces Polyphemus to keep the wine to himself.

As they sit in the grass basking under the warm sun with Polyphemus drinking wine, the cyclops tells Odysseus he will eat him last as a reward for introducing him to such a fine drink. He asks Odysseus his name, and the cunning Greek tells him it is “Nobody.”

Sexual Innuendo in Cyclops

Satyr plays typically involve a great deal of sexual innuendo. For example, the actors portraying satyrs would wear enormous phalluses on their costumes, and when Silenus is first given a taste of the wine, he grabs his phallus and says, “with drink it is possible to make this stand to attention!” Now, the bawdy theme returns as the drunken cyclops starts referring to Silenus as his “Ganymede” and ushers him back into his cave.

Ganymede was abducted by the gods to serve as cupbearer to Zeus. In Greek mythology, he is strongly associated with homoerotic passion. It is from the Latin form of his name, Catamitus, that we get the word catamite, which refers to a young boy involved in sexual activity with an older man. Silenus, in the play, is an old man, and so there is humor intended in this reference. As he is led into the cave, the usually wine-loving satyr says, “Oh woe is me! I’ll soon see that the wine is very bitter now.”

Odysseus and the Satyrs Escape Polyphemus

After the gruesome description of what Odysseus plans for Polyphemus, the actual blinding scene is played for comic effect. Instead of helping as they promised they would, Silenus’s sons bungle about and dither over the handling of the wooden beam. Their bungling notwithstanding, the plan succeeds, and Polyphemus’ single eye is burned out, and he is blinded.

In other versions of this story, Polyphemus cries out to his fellow cyclopes for help, saying that “Nobody has attacked me.” He means, of course, that Odysseus has attacked him, but because he thinks Odysseus is called Nobody, he tells those who would otherwise come to help him that nobody has blinded him. In Euripides’ version, the satyrs merely use the name “Nobody” to mock and taunt Polyphemus as he stumbles blindly about trying to find Odysseus.

The play ends abruptly and somewhat anticlimactically. Odysseus and his surviving crewmates do not sneak past the blinded cyclops by clinging to the underside of sheep but simply go back to their ship and sail away, accompanied by the satyrs.

The last words go to Polyphemus and the satyrs. The cyclops walks through his cave to the rear entrance, which overhangs Odysseus’ ship, and from there hurls a huge rock down to destroy the vessels. The satyrs gleefully announce they are off to serve their new master, Dionysus. The audience is left to assume Polyphemus is unsuccessful and that Odysseus, his crew, and the satyrs escape.

Themes of Brutality in Euripides Cyclops

In Euripides’ play, we see a thoughtful cyclops and a less-than-eloquent Odysseus. Polyphemus is literally monstrous and violates many of the sacred Greek codes. In Odysseus’ speech, in which he begs for his life and the lives of his crewmates, it is made clear that Polyphemus is a Greek, albeit a god (he is the son of Poseidon).

But the cyclops does not care about that. Any sense of loyalty, let alone friendship, to fellow Greeks is out of the question. Neither does he care about the gods. He is unafraid of Zeus, whom he believes cannot hurt him. All of Odysseus’ arguments and pleas fall upon deaf ears.

Polyphemus believes himself superior to the other gods, obligated only towards himself. His gluttony and selfishness provide him, as far as he is concerned, with a good life, which he believes shows him that he is right. The argument the cyclops puts forward for doing exactly what he wants without concern for others is a combination of the ideas of “might is right” and “greed is good.”

What is of interest is that the usually eloquent Odysseus fails to offer any convincing arguments against Polyphemus’ claims. Indeed, in the end, it is by brute strength and violence that Odysseus manages to escape. In his play, Euripides seems to suggest that when facing violence and brutality, the answer is to match like for like.

The journey of finding the answer to the question “What is the Human Being?” is not something new. Throughout the history of humankind, there have been hundreds of authors who have sought to give a precise definition in response to the question. Each of them took a different approach and a standpoint that best described what a human being is. Probably the most famous definition from the ancient period is Aristotle’s zoon politikon. He saw the human being as a political creature, in the sense that man is part of society and lives within it, bounded by social norms and laws that he obeys. He even went further, saying that anyone isolated from society would have to be either a savage or a God. What are the other definitions? Let’s take a look.

1. Homo Sapiens

The most recognized starting point for defining ourselves is the biological term Homo sapiens. At its simplest, this identifies the human as a being that thinks, one possessing the consciousness and intelligence to navigate the world. Interestingly, the term sapiens stems from the Latin sapere, a verb that means more than just ‘to know,’ because it also carries the sensory weight of ‘tasting’ or ‘noticing.’

However, human history often seems to debunk the very idea of the sapiens. We are frequently capable of actions that are the total opposite of smart or wise; we exhibit poor behavior as easily as we do wisdom, creating things that are ugly, tasteless, and profoundly unjust.

When we look at the devastation of war, we are forced to ask: Is the human being truly Homo sapiens, or is our perceived intelligence merely an illusion? Many thinkers have rightly challenged our self-appointed title, offering provocative alternatives that suggest far darker or more chaotic forces govern us.

2. Homo Insapiens

Sigmund Freud and Karl Marx are just two figures who opposed the theory of homo sapiens. With his theory of the unconscious, Freud was one of the first thinkers to unlock the dark side of the human psyche. He noticed that, along with all the wise and beautiful things that humans are capable of, they are also capable of doing very bad and destructive things.

The motives, instincts, and impulses of these destructive actions lie in the unconscious, says Freud. They are things that have been repressed and disabled but are still capable of emerging and coming to life. Freud goes even further by saying that humans do not have free will at all. Everything in us is motivated by the unconscious, and the repressed content controls every choice we make.

Karl Marx presents a kind of distorted consciousness that is very similar to Freud’s concept of the unconscious. It’s important to note that Marx takes a different approach when elaborating his theory, adopting a more culturally centered, more sociological view that he later interweaves into his political ideology.

For example, the capitalist may think that his actions and behavior are humanistic and that he promotes the general well-being of humankind. Still, in reality, his motives and actions only reveal his pure desire for capital and his unconscious (dirty) desire for class differences among people, says Marx.

So, in a way, we can say that, according to Marx and Freud, it is the unconscious and irrational side of humans that drives their actions and behavior, and it’s not wise or smart. The only difference between the two is that Marx discusses the collective unconscious, while Freud discusses the individual unconscious. So, theories like Freud’s and Marx’s put the homo sapiens theory into question because they show that humans are not always smart and intelligent, but instead are homo insapiens.

The first one to use the term homo insapiens was Herbert George Wells in his book “42-44.” Disappointed by the craziness and destructive forces of World War II, Wells concludes that human beings are nothing more than stupid creatures.

The term homo insapiens comes from the Latin words homo, meaning “human,” and insapientia, meaning “unwise” or “the lack of wisdom.” So, in translation, the term homo insapiens would be an unwise, stupid, and ignorant being.

3. Homo Belligerans

Continuing further along the same narrative, we can also stumble upon the definition that the human being is homo belligerans. The term homo belligerans was first used by the English historian Arnold J. Toynbee in his monumental work A Study of History in 1934. The term has its roots in the Latin words bellum, meaning war, and gerare, meaning to lead or carry out.

Thus, homo belligerans would mean a militant, aggressive human, that is, a human who leads war. And, we can undoubtedly say that history confirms that. Wars do not have only a class character, as Friedrich Engels said, but can also take many other forms: multiethnic, religious, civil wars, and more. It is dubious whether they can ever be considered justified.

4. Homo Ludens

However, besides the nature of wars throughout human history, it’s hard to reduce the human being to homo belligerans. In fact, there are many instances in which humans feel pure happiness and joy, and many instances in which they play certain games.

Because of that, many authors think that the essence of human beings is their play and their games. It is through his play that the human really exists as a human being, they said. So, they conclude that the human being is homo ludens: a being that is capable of playing and the only being that can rejoice in the play until he plays for the sake of the play.

This theory suggests that play is an autonomous and authentic field in which humans live and age throughout life. So, when he plays, he does not finish the game because if he did, he would finish himself, which would mean death. Instead, he plays starting from the beginning of his life until the end. Because of that, some authors say that humans are nothing more than homo ludens.

5. Homo Oeconomicus & Homo Faber

According to some other thinkers, the human is not simply a playing creature, but in his core, he’s actually homo oeconomicus. This means that the human is an economic being, or a being that knows about the economy and thus knows how to handle and manage his own economy. This does not only mean the financial aspect of his resources, but also includes other resources. Therefore, the human is not only managing his finances but also has a house he looks after and will continue to look after in the future.

However, when we look at the world of animals, we can easily notice something similar in their way of life: they look after their homes and offspring and prepare for the future by collecting resources. Many animals, for example, prepare for the winter by collecting food reserves and adjusting their homes to survive better. So they can also be classified as members of this group of beings. Therefore, the question arises inevitably whether this characterization of humans as homo oeconomicus is accurate enough.

Because of that, many authors introduced the idea of the human as a homo faber. The term faber has Latin roots, meaning “creator,” “manufacturer,” or “craftsman.” Benjamin Franklin most accurately characterized the human being as a tool-making animal. This means that the human is capable of crafting, or rather, manufacturing tools and using them. This definition was later used by the French philosopher Henri Bergson as well.

6. Homo Viator

Other thinkers characterize the human being as homo viator. One of the first to use the term was the French existentialist philosopher Gabriel Marcel, in one of his many famous essays titled Homo viator. The term viator has its roots in the Latin word viaticus, which can be translated as “one who is preparing to travel.”

Thus, homo viator would mean that the human being is a being-traveler, a being who is preparing to go on a path and traveling to someplace. Marcel uses the term within the context of his existential philosophy because he saw the nature of humans not as fixed and constant, but as flexible and capable of taking many shapes and forms, as the human being is in a constant search for meaning in his life. Because its nature is not predetermined, the human being is doomed to follow a path and to constantly search for a sense of self.

7. Homo Sedens

Even though humans have the desire and need to travel, we can also notice a strong desire to stay in one place. Humans often want to stay in one place and be there without needing to travel elsewhere. This is especially true in today’s world, in which humans can travel virtually thanks to technological development and constant innovation.

That is why, in 1962, the Canadian philosopher and communications specialist Marshall McLuhan defined the human being as homo sedens. The term sedens has its roots in the Latin verb sedere, meaning “to sit.” So, according to that characterization, we can define the human being as a being that sits, a being who is glued to his chair, or rather, his home.

8. Other Definitions

The history of thought offers a vast gallery of homines, where each attempt seeks to capture a different essence of our nature.

For some, we are fundamentally homo religiosus, a term popularized by historian Mircea Eliade to describe a being defined by an inherent drive toward the sacred and the ritualistic. Closely linked to this is the concept of homo metaphysicus, a term that characterizes the human as a creature uniquely obsessed with peering beyond the physical veil to explore the supernatural and the unseen. Arthur Schopenhauer famously argued that man is the only animal that wonders at its own existence, making metaphysics a biological necessity.

In a more provocative turn, some thinkers propose homo otiosus. This suggests that humans are the only creatures capable of true neutrality, meaning they are the only beings that can stand before the world in a state of disinterested, idle contemplation. This “leisurely man” stands in stark contrast to the modern “homo faber,” or the man who makes, by prioritizing being over doing.

Regardless of which homo we favor, one truth remains: our nature remains an open question. Ultimately, we are not a finished product but a work in progress. It is up to each of us to define who we are through our choices and our freedom.

Socrates, the legendary Greek philosopher, faced death in Athens for impiety and corrupting the youth. Yet he defended himself with a remarkable claim: an inner voice, his so-called “daemon,” guided him away from wrongdoing.

Unlike the demons of later mythology, Socrates’s daemon wasn’t a malevolent spirit. Rather, it was a daemonic sign, a mysterious inner warning. But what exactly was this enigmatic voice, and why did it matter so much to his life and philosophy?

Who Was Socrates and What Was His Daemon?

Socrates was an ancient Greek philosopher and is revered as the father of Western philosophy. He used conversation in his philosophy, rather than written text, like many modern philosophers. These conversations involved pointed questioning that blended logic and myth, a method many philosophers still practice, now known as the “Socratic method.” His most famous student, Plato, wrote dramatic dialogues about his teacher’s philosophical conversations with notable citizens of Athens.

Socrates’s death at the hands of the Athenian Empire is well known because it sets the dramatic background to four important works by Plato: Euthyphro, Apology, Crito, and Phaedo. These four dialogues tell the story of Socrates’s last days as he was sentenced to death by representatives of the ancient Greek city-state.

When officially questioned about his motives, Socrates testified that daemonic signs inspired his actions. Many people think of Socrates’s daemon as a guardian angel or the inner voice of his conscience, rather than as an evil demonic possession.

Socrates testified that his daemon was responsible for many of the charges brought against him and instructed him to remain and face them rather than flee. Socrates trusted his daemon with his life, piety, and philosophy.

Daemon vs. Demon: Clearing Up the Misunderstanding

There are two ways that contemporary philosophy uses the word “demon” that may misrepresent Socrates’s daemon. First, modern philosophy, beginning with Descartes, has used demons as thought experiments: Descartes imagined a demon constantly tricking him; Laplace imagined a demon that could know the positions and movements of every molecule; and Maxwell imagined a demon that could test the laws of thermodynamics.

The second use of “demon” in philosophy involves Christianity and fallen angels. The word “daemon” is similar to “demon,” although the special spelling signifies that the word daemon is used only in the classical or Hellenistic sense, not the contemporary Christian sense.

While “demons” are malevolent beings within Christian mythology, daemons may represent benevolent or malevolent beings because they are defined by the mythology of the time. Unlike in Christian mythology, Greek mythology involved many deities with a variety of altruistic and selfish motives.

Divine Sign or Spiritual Entity?

Plato was very careful in choosing the words of the Socratic dialogues. The phrase “Socrates’s daemon” may not be a true translation of the Greek because it implies the existence of an entity like a demon or an angel.

Just as English can represent entities (“demons”) and qualities (“demonic”) through related words, so too does ancient Greek represent both entities and qualities. Plato used the “daemonic” quality to describe signs, voices, or something in relationship with Socrates, but he never used the word “daemon” to represent a spiritual entity.

Plato also uses the word “daemon” in his Symposium, which may help us determine whether Socrates’s daemon was a divine entity or merely a sign considered to have divine qualities.

The character Diotima applies the word “daemonic” to intermediary activities between humans and the divine, such as prayers, sacrifices, and oracles. Therefore, daemonic signs, voices, or things arise from the gods, even if the gods or divine beings are not directly present as entities. Using the phrase “Socrates’s daemon” may still be appropriate because daemonic signs imply a daemon or deity.

The Apology: Key to Socrates’s Inner Voice

Of the four dialogues by Plato that deal with Socrates’s last days, the Apology provides the clearest arguments about Socrates’s daemon and its role in his defense.

Socrates testified to the importance of his daemonic sign, which he described as an inner voice that prevented certain actions. By the end of the dialogue, the Athenians vote and sentence Socrates to death.

The Athenian accusations center on impiety and corruption of the youth, and the impiety accusation is relevant to our inquiry into Socrates’s daemon. The Athenians accused Socrates of not believing in the city’s gods but in other spiritual things. Interestingly, the accusation associates the word “theos” with the gods of the city and the word “daemonic” with Socrates’s impious practices.

Socrates is forced to defend himself by describing his relationship with his daemon, and so the legal proceedings depicted in Plato’s Apology may be the key to understanding Socrates’s Daemon.

The Oracle of Delphi and Socrates’s Prophetic Guidance

Socrates defended himself against the Athenian accusations by testifying that his philosophical activity was in part caused by the Oracle of Delphi. The Oracle of Delphi was a priestess at the Temple of Apollo in Delphi. Years earlier, the Oracle had said that Socrates was the wisest man in Athens. In response to the puzzling oracle, Socrates sought the wisest man in Athens and offended some citizens through his direct line of questioning.

In response to the accusation of impiety, Socrates testified that he would rather obey the god of the Oracle than the men of Athens because philosophy will lead to piety and the perfection of the soul. Socrates used his commitment to philosophy and the gods’ will as a defense against the charge that he was an atheist and impious. Apollo, the god of truth and prophecy, presided over the Oracle at Delphi; we may assume that Socrates’s daemon was ultimately related to Apollo.

Was Socrates’s Daemon a Form of Prophecy?

In Plato’s Apology, Socrates testifies that his daemon would prevent him from taking certain actions, like fleeing Athens or teaching certain students. Socrates said that the daemon was with him since childhood. The daemon would speak through an inner voice to oppose certain courses of action. Socrates describes the daemon in impersonal terms as a negative voice.

Socrates’s daemon has been interpreted as the inner voice of conscience or the unconscious, perhaps not even a spiritual being at all. Our reading of the Apology demonstrates Socrates used impersonal or adjectival phrases like “something divine” or “daemonic,” but never personal or objective phrases like “god” or “daemon.”

However, Socrates repeatedly connected his daemonic signs with prophetic power. The root word of “prophecy” is “mantis,” which is why it is sometimes called a “mantic art.” Socrates said that his inner voice was a small type of prophecy, and the word “mantis” directly connects Socrates’s daemon with the Oracle at Delphi, which also uses that root word.

The Mythological and Spiritual World of Socrates’s Daemon

The connection between Socrates’s daemon and prophecy also aligns with core Socratic mythology, such as the transmigration of the soul or the world of the forms. The sequel to Plato’s Apology is the Phaedo, which recounts Socrates’s death and discusses myths about the soul’s immortality.

While it may be tempting to interpret Socrates’s daemon as a personification of his conscience, Plato describes it as prophecy. The word root “mantis” was used to describe the means to perceive the realm of the immortal soul, i.e., the world of forms, as well as Socrates’s daemonic inner voice. Socrates himself admitted that he had little prophetic power, perhaps compared with the Oracle at Delphi. Therefore, there is a spectrum of prophetic powers from Socrates’s little voice to the powerful oracle of Apollo.

Socrates’s inner voice was his peculiar way of relating with the divine, perhaps directly to the mythical god Apollo, whom he called as a witness during his defense in Plato’s Apology.

Mount Olympus, Gods, and the Nature of Daemonic Signs

It is tempting to imagine that the ancients naively believed their own mythology, as if Zeus physically lived on top of Mount Olympus as Homer described. We have seen that it is easy to confuse daemonic things with daemons. On the one hand, daemonic things are impersonal, like Socrates’s inner voice or the oracles from Delphi. On the other hand, daemons are personal beings, such as Apollo or Asclepius. Apollo was the god of prophecy. Asclepius was Apollo’s son and the god of dreams.

Did Socrates believe that Apollo really spoke to him through his inner voice? In Plato’s writings, Socrates avoided directly addressing such a question. In the Apology, he invoked the god of the Oracle of Delphi as a witness to his piety. Socrates also testified that a daemonic inner voice guided his actions and prevented both impiety and atheism, the charges against him. The voice was not the personification of his conscience, a thought experiment, or a spiritual entity like an angel or demon. Rather, Socrates testified that his daemon was a small prophetic skill that spoke through daemonic signs, voices, and things.

Socrates’s daemon is a shorthand term for prophetic experiences involving an inner voice. While it is easy to imagine that Socrates was possessed by a literal or figurative demon, the words Plato used suggest that Socrates testified to prophetic skills upon the spiritual authority of the Oracle of Delphi

Prophecy, Not Possession: The True Role of Socrates’s Daemon

Socrates never speaks of an entity or a god in association with his inner voice. Rather, he testified that his inner voice was a daemonic prophecy or spiritual communication. Plato’s writings contain many references to daemonic things, such as Socrates’s inner voice. In contrast, Plato’s writing contains few references to daemons themselves.

The difference between “daemon” and “daemonic” is the same as the difference between “angel” and “angelic.” On the one hand, angelic things may include light in clouds, beautiful music, and sentiments of charity, but angels are spiritual beings who have personas that act in this world as we do. Socrates did not testify to encounters with spiritual beings. Rather, he testified to his own prophetic inner voice.

Daemonic vs. Divine: Lessons from the World of Forms

The distinction between “daemon” and “daemonic” is subtle, but powerful. Socrates testified only to daemonic things in this world, such as oracles and prophecy. He invoked Apollo as a witness to his piety. However, he offered no direct testimony of having interacted with the god or other spiritual entities.

Philosophy is traditionally associated with the ideas that emerged from Ancient Greece, culminating in contemporary European thought. For centuries, Native American thought was dismissed as myth or religion rather than philosophy. To contest the claim, scholars such as Anne Waters argue that certain Indigenous intellectual traditions carry their own distinctive interpretations of metaphysics, ethics, and epistemology. Unlike the Western canon, Native American philosophy emphasizes relationships between land, people, and community.

Land, Place, and Community

Indigenous thought does not see individuals as isolated agents. Native American traditions understand identity as fundamentally relational. Relational identity is shaped by relationships with land, community, and shared experiences. Historically, Indigenous communities in the American Southwest would organize social life through differentiated clan systems closely related to territory and place.

In Pueblo societies, for instance, villages were made up of several clan families connected through matrilineal descent. Each clan was responsible for preserving its migration histories, as symbolized by various spiral patterns found in petroglyphs and ceremonial narratives. The migration spirals indicated the journey that could be taken in four sacred directions, where clans would gain knowledge and experience before returning to their shared center. The center was sometimes represented by a village plaza and a sipapu, an ancient symbol that links the community to its cosmological origins.

Returning to the center marked a crucial spiritual transformation. The natives’ migration style can be imagined as a helix, showing how the community returns to the same place while carrying new knowledge gained throughout the journey. Each clan would bring its own knowledge to the village community, thereby shaping a novel worldview grounded in shared responsibility and renewed collective life.

The native view of identity contrasts starkly with its Western counterpart, which places greater emphasis on private property and individual freedom. For many Indigenous people, land is not something that is owned by someone, but rather a complicated, long-term inheritance that needs to be sustained across generations. Based on these principles, native communities would organize around the protection and continuity of their territories, recognizing that human life, ecological systems, and cultural knowledge are interconnected.

Coyote and Thales: Two Ways of Knowing

In Greek philosophy, the philosopher and semi-mythical figure Thales is a symbol of abstract thought. The anecdote tells of an ancient philosopher and astronomer who was so caught up with the movement of heavenly bodies that he fell into a well. The Coyote of Native American mythology carries a similar meaning.

The Coyote becomes so absorbed in his desires and his curiosity that he forgets about his place in the world. Disrupting the relations he bears with the beings surrounding him. The differences between the two figures are quite pronounced as they contrast the major difference between Western and Indigenous ways of conceiving the order of the universe.

In Native traditions, the precondition of knowledge is not detachment, but rather relatedness. One does not need to stand apart from the world in order to comprehend its mysteries. Knowledge grows by paying careful attention to things nearby, the lived experience, from an awareness of how one’s actions affect others. Knowledge is never neutral. In other words, epistemology and ethics are interrelated. Knowledge is also not cumulative, but rather operational. What matters is whether knowledge helps one walk the right path.

Finally, it is important to emphasize that indigenous knowledge is non-systematic and context-dependent, not out of ignorance, but through a conscious decision. To know something is to live and bear a relation to it, albeit while a specific experience lasts.

Indigenous Ethics of the “We” and the “I”

Native American ethics begins with distinctive assumptions about human nature. In Western philosophy, the individual is understood as a single autonomous unit of moral life, with little to no natural concern for others’ well-being. Ethical systems thereby seek to regulate human relations as if two separate individuals were cooperating to pursue similar goals. Society appears as an artificial structure that is built, negotiated, and enforced through law, religion, and other external rules. The free individual seeking their own self-interest is the main edifice.

Indigenous thought begins from the other end of the problem. Human beings are not seen as isolated individuals. It does not posit the moral relationship as something decided posthumously. Humans are instead seen as born into an already existing structure of relations.

Native American ethics is concerned with preserving the “We.” A person realizes their full potential through community membership; through the recognition that one does not act in a vacuum. Moral life is not sustained by abstract, universal rules but rather by the awareness of the impact one’s actions have on others. Actions ripple outward, influencing family members, the group, and the wider world.

Similarly, ethical behavior is not primarily enforced through external rules and coercion. Children are taught from an early age to understand the impact of their choices on the lives of others. Autonomy does entail radical, self-sufficient independence; it implies taking initiative while remaining attentive to the needs of the community. The “We” therefore encompasses more than the human group. It includes the living world as a whole.

Ecology and the Native Understanding of Science

The Native’s understanding of science grows out of direct participation in the natural world. Unlike Western science, abstract, detached thinking and observation hold little epistemic value. There is some affinity between Native American philosophy and phenomenology, the study of first-person human experience.

The natural world is not treated as a standing reserve of inert manipulable objects requiring control and measurement. It is instead understood as a complex field of relations where humans actively engage with the biosphere, consisting of plants, animals, water, and land. Stories, ceremonies, and oral traditions function together to preserve and transmit ecological knowledge.

Science, philosophy, and spirituality remain inseparable within indigenous knowledge. They belong to a single unified domain. All knowledge is rooted in a cosmological worldview where individuals develop alongside other natural entities. In the same way, ethics is integrated into this worldview, with every member of the community bearing responsibility for the land and the community. Understanding the world also requires understanding how humans should live within it.

Native science does not, therefore, attempt to form a complete and exhaustive picture of the universe, nor does it seek absolute mastery over it. It seeks to cultivate an attuned relationship of interdependence and unity. Human beings are seen as participants within a larger creative process that encompasses every living system on earth. Knowledge grows through embodied participation, forming a map of reality drawn from generations of observation, experience, oral tradition, and collective memory.

Beyond Binary Thinking

No doubt the long colonial history of Native American segregation and, no less, the epistemic constraints entailed by that segregation, deserve an investigation of its own. In an attempt to liberate Native American epistemology, one of Anne Waters’ central claims is that Indigenous thought does not organize reality into rigid, sharply separated binaries.

In the Western tradition, various dualisms, such as mind and body, good and evil, male and female, are posited as clearly divisible categories. The divisions also serve as justifications for various social hierarchies. Some Indigenous languages and worldviews, in contrast, operate through a different logic. They offer nondiscrete forms of understanding in which differences are preserved without strictly delimited boundaries.

Two things can retain their differences without becoming absolute opposites. In place of rigid distinctions, Indigenous metaphysics tends to emphasize complementarity, overlap, relation, and family resemblance. Instead of isolated units, the world is organized through dynamic connections. Thereby, identity, gender, and community may appear more fluid in many Native traditions than in European systems of thought. Categories remain fluid and amorphous, not fixed once and for all.

Colonialism had imposed its own ontology on Indigenous peoples. European settlers interpreted Native cultures through categories that were already biased by hierarchy, exclusion, and rigid binaries. This often made Indigenous ways of thinking appear unintelligible or irrational. In reality, the problem was not an absence of philosophy but a violent clash between two different worldviews.

When we go back to the very beginning of Western philosophy, we can easily notice that the Presocratic philosophers were obsessed with the universe as a whole. Some authors might even argue that philosophy emerged from such an obsession because they were all trying to find the meaning and root cause of the world we live in. Philosophers such as Thales of Miletus, his followers Anaximander and Anaximenes, Heraclitus, Pythagoras, Leucippus, and Democritus all proposed different theories about the nature and origins of our world. However, Empedocles, a Sicilian polymath, famously blended the roles of scientist, prophet, physician, and philosopher. This is what makes him unique among the Presocratics.

The Life of Empedocles

Empedocles (c. 495–435 BC) was from Acragas (modern-day Agrigento, Sicily). Unlike other philosophers, Empedocles was extremely extroverted. A man of constant dialogue, he wandered from place to place just to share a conversation with those curious about philosophy. He was a master rhetorician, so skilled that legend has it his audiences were left utterly speechless, particularly when he was teaching. Because of that, we can even say that Empedocles was the founder of rhetoric as a discipline, even though Aristotle provided its methodology.

He was born into a wealthy, noble, and culturally educated family, which is why he lived the way aristocrats of the period lived. Because of that, he was involved in local politics and played a role in public affairs, and people often saw him as their leader. There are many legends and myths surrounding his life, but the most fascinating moment is his legendary death.

Near the end of his life, Empedocles sought to prove his divinity by leaping into the active volcano of Mount Etna. According to the legend, the volcano consumed him entirely, except for one of his bronze sandals, which was later expelled by the lava, exposing his mortality. While perhaps more legendary than historical, the tale serves to emphasize the aura of the supernatural that frequently surrounded him.

Metaphysics

According to Empedocles, everything in the material world has its roots in the four natural elements, namely earth, air, fire, and water. Departing from the terminology of the philosophers who preceded and followed him, Empedocles did not classify these as ‘elements.’ Instead, he conceptualized them as primary substances with the inherent capacity to generate all things in the cosmos. These four substances are eternal and immutable, while the objects they form are transient and ever-changing.

We can clearly see that his view is the exact opposite of the views already present in ancient philosophy. The leading historians of philosophy, such as Jonathan Barnes, suggest that Empedocles’s philosophy is in direct opposition to that of Heraclitus and Parmenides. Barnes points out that Empedocles’ philosophy is in direct contrast to Heraclitus’ notion of panta rei, that everything in the world is in flux, and that the only constant thing that exists is change itself. On the other hand, Empedocles also disagrees with Parmenides, who held that all variety and multiplicity in the world are only illusions; it is only the One that truly exists, and the particular entities and beings in the world are only manifestations of the One.

Cosmology

Now that we are familiar with the core concepts of his metaphysics, it’s time to show how they come into play in Empedocles’ philosophical system. Empedocles called earth, air, fire, and water “roots” instead of elements, or rhizomata in Ancient Greek. Along with the four roots, there are two powerful forces, Love (or Philia) and Strife (or Neikos). Love and Strife act as the dual engines of cosmic change, directing the mixture and dissolution of the four roots to produce the transient phenomena of our reality.

Love, says Empedocles, causes things to come together, to attract themselves, and in the end, to unite themselves. On the other hand, Strife causes things to distance themselves from one another, to reject one another, and, in the end, to decompose and even decay. But it’s important to note that Empedocles did not favor one over the other. Love is not a synonym for good, or Strife for bad. Instead, both are equally important and essential to the creation of the world.

How Do Love and Strife Work?

When one of these forces dominates and reaches its peak, life becomes unbearable and then dies. Love has the tendency to attract things together and to unite them, but in its extreme, it can create a very dense and fused atmosphere in which we cannot even make a distinction between one thing or another, nor will there be space for things to act and interact with each other. However, when Love begins to weaken under the influence of the principle of hate, the dense atmosphere begins to spread, and things can begin to separate from each other. That is when matter gets defined, and that is when distinct things start to exist!

However, as hate reaches its peak and represses the principle of Love completely, it causes all things in the atmosphere to distance themselves from one another, then separate, and, finally, fall apart, decay, and die. Everything will be dead until the principle of Love comes into play again, bringing the forces of attraction that will cause things to come together once again and unite, which will bring forth life itself. With its power, Love attracts all elements in the atmosphere like a magnet, reducing the distance between them and thereby regenerating the conditions necessary for life to be born.

Now we have a clearer picture of how Empedocles envisioned the creation of life and the universe. We can see that both principles of Love and hate are equally important and essential to the whole process, and that each contributes with its own powers and capacities.

Epistemology

Now that we’ve shown Empedocles’ main metaphysical and cosmological views, all that’s left is to present his epistemology and show how these three fields fit together. At its core, Empedocles’ epistemology seeks to explain the physiological mechanics of perception and cognition. As we shall see, these processes are integrated into his broader philosophical system, operating on the foundational principle that we perceive the roots of the cosmos through the corresponding roots within ourselves.

According to Empedocles, perception is enabled by the impulses that flow from things in the world and reach the pores of the human perception system. These pores have different sizes and shapes, so they only “accept” impulses that match them in size and shape.

For example, we perceive bright colors thanks to the pores that absorb fiery impulses, but we perceive dark colors thanks to the pores that absorb watery impulses. Also, we have the sense of smell thanks to the pores of the breath concentrated in the nose, and we can hear thanks to the absorbing pores concentrated in the ears.

Ultimately, his theory of perception rests on the foundational law of correspondence: the principle that perception is only possible through the interaction of like with like (homoion homoio). Empedocles applies this law to cognition and ethics as well. We perceive external roots, love, and divinity through their internal counterparts. This mechanical symmetry dictates that sensory inputs shape thought and emotion, ultimately allowing the internal divine to attract and absorb the universal divine.

The internal divine fragment within the human soul acts as the sensory and spiritual bridge to the Sphairos, the god-like state of total cosmic harmony, where the four roots are perfectly unified and undifferentiated under the absolute dominion of Love.

Aristotle’s Critique of Empedocles

However, some thinkers were not very fond of Empedocles, especially his epistemological views. The primary friction between Empedocles and the later Peripatetic school (Aristotle and his successor, Theophrastus) lies in the conflation of capacities. In De Anima, Aristotle argues that Empedocles’ system is immature because it fails to distinguish between noēsis (intellectual thought) and aisthēsis (sensory perception).

For Aristotle, thinking is a distinct faculty of the soul that can grasp universals, whereas perception is tied to particulars. By reducing both to the physical interaction of “like with like,” Empedocles effectively stripped the mind of its unique status. Theophrastus further scrutinized this in his treatise De Sensibus, pointing out the logical inconsistencies in the concepts of pores and impulses. He was questioning, for instance, how the size of a physical pore could ever account for the complexity of a subjective thought, thereby influencing some of the concerns of contemporary philosophers of mind.

When examining any book on the history of philosophy, it’s very common for Anaxagoras to be left out. However, he remains one of the most prolific thinkers in antiquity. Anaxagoras was a Presocratic Greek philosopher. He, just like his predecessors and contemporaries, had a lot to say about the universe and the world that we live in, and contributed greatly to his work. His major ideas emerged in response to Parmenides’ work because he disagreed with what Parmenides said.

Early Life

Anaxagoras was a pre-Socratic Greek philosopher born in Clazomenae, then part of the Persian Empire. The legend says that he was among the rarest of philosophers, if not the only one, who received a voice message telling him to become a philosopher.

According to the legend, he was only 17 years old when he first heard it, and he told only his mother, who truly believed in supernatural forces. She advised him to disregard it at first, as it may have been a bad spirit trying to lure him into a world of darkness. But she also advised him that if he hears it for a second time, then he should trust it. However, two days had not even passed when Anaxagoras heard the same voice again. So, he decided to follow it.

At only 20 years old, he decided he would go to Athens to fulfill his dream and prophecy. Some authors even say that although philosophy already existed in Athens at that time, Anaxagoras sparked people’s interest in learning it, and because of that, he contributed to Athens becoming the center of philosophical wisdom.

Before arriving in Athens, however, he decided to give up all the land and capital he had inherited from his father to his relatives so that he could dedicate himself fully to philosophy. Plato himself testified to that in his book Hippias Minor.

He also never married throughout his life and did not want to deal with any politics at all. At first, this was strange to many people because a lot of Athenians only cared about having a good time, surrounded by women and alcohol. However, he later became popular and accepted by everyone surrounding him.

Late Stage of Anaxagoras’ Life

In another book, Plato also states that Anaxagoras was the tutor of the famous Greek politician and general Pericles, during the Golden Age of Athens. There are other sources that confirm that as well. But his relationship with Pericles also caused him a lot of trouble.

After 30 years of living in Athens, he was accused of spreading heretical teachings, namely that the sun is not a God but rather a burning, floating stone. Pericles had a lot of enemies at that time, and because of that, Anaxagoras was found guilty along with his pupil. In the end, however, his friendship with Pericles helped him escape prison, after which he left Athens.

After living in Athens, Anaxagoras moved to Lampsacus, where he founded his own school. His last wish was that the month of his death be declared a holiday for all pupils and students, which was later honored, as the famous historian and biographer Diogenes Laërtius wrote.

The Principle of Nous

Anaxagoras is one of the first philosophers who sought to explain the universe not through a myth or divine perspective but instead through natural principles and rational thought. Because of that, he is considered to be a pivotal figure in the transition from mythological to scientific cosmology.

Unlike his predecessors, who emphasized a single, fundamental substance, such as water (Thales) or air (Anaximenes), Anaxagoras proposed a more complex and dynamic view of reality, one that embraced diversity and infinite complexity.

The concept of Nous is at the heart of Anaxagoras’ philosophy, which is why it’s essential to begin explaining his philosophy here. We can even say that the concept of Nous was among the earliest philosophical attempts to define an abstract, intelligent force as the origin of cosmic order. Anaxagoras saw Nous as the organizing and initiating principle of the universe. It is a pure, infinite, and independent entity that is distinct from matter.

The Principle of Nous as the Mind

Nous is pure and unmixed with any other substance, which allows it to remain distinct and to exercise control. It is not omnipresent in the sense of being everywhere equally, but it is the finest and most autonomous of all things, initiating motion without itself being mixed with anything else. It is rational, but Anaxagoras does not clearly attribute to it purpose or intention in a fully teleological sense.

Because Nous is the rational principle underlying cosmic motion and order, Anaxagoras describes it as “Mind,” and many interpreters follow him in doing so. However, this should not be understood as equivalent to a fully developed concept of mind or consciousness in later philosophical traditions.

Nous is also said to be present in living beings, particularly those capable of perception, but Anaxagoras does not clearly claim that it directly accounts for all life or consciousness. Its primary role is cosmological: it initiates and governs the original rotation that structures the cosmos. In this sense, it is more accurate to describe Nous as a cosmic ordering principle rather than a biological one.

Now let us see how this fits into the broader structure of Anaxagoras’ philosophy.

How Was the Universe Created?

It’s important to note that Anaxagoras was primarily interested in explaining how the universe, or cosmos, was created. Because of that, we can often find him classified as a cosmological philosopher. He thought that the universe started as a chaotic mixture of particles, and by “chaotic,” he meant it lacked any order or control.

In the beginning, Anaxagoras wrote, the universe was an indistinguishable, motionless mixture where all things (elements, substances, and properties) existed together in an undifferentiated state. There was no separation or order; they did not exist. All elements containing the matter were combined into one mass.

Anaxagoras called the elements “seeds.” So the question arises: how did this undifferentiated state begin to separate, and how did things come into existence? Well, this is where the principle of Nous comes into play.

Thanks to the principle of Nous, all these separate particles or “seeds” are orderly put, and later put into motion. This, said Anaxagoras, caused the creation of the cosmos through a process of rotation and separation.

The rotation caused differentiation, as particles began to separate according to their characteristics. So, particles with similar properties began to group together, forming distinct substances and objects. Furthermore, it’s important to mention that this process is ongoing and perpetual, as new combinations and forms constantly arise.

Anaxagoras vs. the Presocratics: Being, Change, and Motion Explained

As mentioned at the beginning of the text, Anaxagoras’ philosophy stands in direct contrast to that of Parmenides or Zeno. Their theories are considered diametric opposites. But why is that? To answer that question, we would need to briefly review the philosophy of the other Presocratics.

Parmenides was the founder of the Eleatic school of thought, also known as the Eleatics. Just like Anaxagoras, he was also interested in exploring the universe and trying to get to the bottom of the underlying principle of the world. He thought that reality is one being only, and is in fact The One.

The One is the ultimate being that exists, and everything in the world is within The One. The One is also conceived as homogeneous, without any parts or distinctions. Parmenides firmly rejected the existence of plurality, claiming that any notion of multiplicity in the world is illusory.

On the other hand, Anaxagoras claimed that reality is fundamentally pluralistic. As we showed, the universe according to Anaxagoras consists of infinite particles, and as a testament to that, we have the multiplicity of objects and things in the world surrounding us.

Their teachings also differ in their views on change and motion. Parmenides denied the reality of change. He thought that change does not exist in the world and that things are just the way they are from birth till death. He famously stated that “what is, is, and cannot not be.” What he means by that is that reality is a single, unchanging, and eternal “being.”

On the other hand, Anaxagoras embraced the notions of change and motion in his philosophy by seeing them as real and fundamental drives in the cosmos. In this sense, we can even say that Anaxagoras had a similar conception to Heraclitus, who is often referred to as the philosopher of change.

Another important point is that Parmenides rejected the idea of motion, claiming that motion is impossible because it implies the existence of “non-being,” which cannot exist. This is later elaborated even further in Zeno’s philosophy, Parmenides’ pupil. But Anaxagoras opposes this view as well, stating that motion is real and essential to the cosmos. He introduced Nous as the force that initiates and sustains motion, causing the separation and organization of the initial mixture.

Though it emerged as a formal academic field in the 20th century, the roots of the philosophy of law are embedded in the very origins of Western thought. Usually conflated with ethicists, philosophers debated whether law is merely a tool of state power or a reflection of a higher cosmic order. Thus, from the divine decrees of the ancient world to the modern clash between Natural Law and Legal Positivism, this discipline asks the most dangerous question of all: what makes a law legitimate rather than merely legal?

Historical Overview

As a social phenomenon, law has always prompted deep reflection on its origins and nature. The journey began in 1760 BC with the Code of Hammurabi in Mesopotamia, where legal rules were presented not just as royal decrees, but as divine epistles. In this ancient Middle Eastern tradition, the ruler acted as a mediator, bridging the gap between the people and the gods; a concept that later figured prominently in the holy books of the Egyptians, Persians, and Jews. In the Bible, this reached its zenith with God as the ultimate lawgiver, delivering the Ten Commandments through Moses.

However, the shift from obeying the law to philosophizing about it only truly began with the rise of the first Western thinkers. To understand the philosophy of law, we must first examine how it emerged from the realm of mythology.

Early legal concepts were originally personified as goddesses within the court of the Ancient Greek God Zeus. Themis was the personification of basic divine and customary law. Dike, on the other hand, was the goddess representing justice and fairness.

These mythical representations provided the raw material for the first philosophers. By transforming these divine stories into objects of rational curiosity, the early thinkers of Western philosophical tradition began to strip away the supernatural, asking for the first time: what is the true essence of justice?

Ancient Philosophers on Law

We can find the earliest form of the philosophy of law in the fragments that remain of Heraclitus’s work.

According to him, law, like all human actions and relations, is in deep unity with the general cosmic processes. Laws in society are nothing but a reflection of the cosmic order, which has always existed, said Heraclitus. Everything in the world is subordinated in relation to the cosmic Logos. The Logos controls everything because it is the voice of cosmic justice and fairness.

Philosophical investigation on law was further expanded in southern Italy (Croton), with the founding of the Pythagorean School by the famous philosopher and mathematician Pythagoras.

The basis of the philosophical views of Pythagoras is the teaching of the human soul as part of the cosmic one, because according to him, those two souls were identical. Therefore, he says that the meaning and purpose of man and life is the union of his soul with the divine. The cosmic soul that Pythagoras talks about is actually the idea of order and harmony, rooted in the law of the universe. Therefore, according to Pythagoras, justice is an element of understanding order and harmony.

What Did Socrates Have to Say About Law?

Socrates disagreed with the Sophists a lot. Their philosophy was grounded in relativism and subjectivism. They thought that justice and law depend on the subject and that everyone can have a different understanding and concept of what is right and what is wrong. Therefore, justice is not a universal concept that everyone can agree upon.

However, Socrates strongly rebelled against this relativistic approach. The bedrock of his philosophy was the conviction that objective truth exists, even if it remains hidden from the superficial observer. Through deep, mindful reflection and the Socratic method, he argued that we can uncover a universal standard of justice. Because this internal truth is identical within all of us, Socrates suggested that a singular, objective definition of justice is not just possible, but it is an inherent part of the human soul.

Plato and Aristotle About Law and Order

Socrates’ student, Plato, continued with the same view of justice. Plato’s Republic is the first comprehensive study of law and is considered his greatest work. In “The Republic,” Plato discussed the ideal state and how he sees it. According to him, the ideal republic should have three important roles and functions. First and foremost, Plato says that there should be rulers, the wisest ones who govern because they understand what is best for everyone. The second most important role is that of the guardians, the brave protectors of the city, such as soldiers and the police. Finally, the third important role in Plato’s ideal state is that of the producers, the farmers and mechanics who sustain the economy and meet our daily needs. But the roles should not interfere with each other’s work. Everyone should do their assigned work and not mind someone else’s work. That is how justice is established according to Plato.

Aristotle, Plato’s most famous student, took these abstract ideals and brought them down to earth. He defined the human being as a zoon politikon, a political creature whose very nature is tied to the community. Central to his thought is the concept of telos, or the final goal. Aristotle argued that everything has a purpose it is striving to reach, and nothing in nature exists by accident.

For humans, that telos is found in the political organization of the city-state. However, a state isn’t just a collection of people; it is a structure founded upon ethics. For Aristotle, justice is the essential glue, or the active relation between ethics and politics, that allows a society to fulfill its natural purpose

Far from ending with Aristotle, the questions pertaining to justice and law sparked an even deeper curiosity in the centuries that followed. This continuous investigation allowed the philosophy of law to develop within its own specialized bubble, refining its tools and expanding its scope. Eventually, this momentum led the field to claim its independence, emerging from the broad shadow of general philosophy to stand as a distinct and vital discipline in its own right.

Natural Law

Now that we have established what philosophy of law is and shown that its roots date back to ancient times, even though it’s a relatively new discipline, it’s crucial to examine the content of this branch of philosophy. One of the most intriguing issues that the philosophy of law deals with is the dispute between natural law and positive law. Let’s see what the dispute is about.

Natural law rests on a deeper normative and value level than human social conventions. The key idea is that there is an objective standard, a higher law to which human laws must obey in order to acquire legitimacy and the status of law at all. There is an absolute source from which value judgments emanate that are universal, consistent with nature and reason. Basically, this law states that sometimes the laws that we have formulated as a society are not applicable.

There are three formulations of this theory:

• Theological formulation: it states that the just law is a law imposed by a will higher than human, i.e., God’s will, setting forth universal, constant principles that govern the created world.
• Naturalistic formulation: the law of nature is a drive common to all living beings.
• Rationalistic formulation: the just law is a law enacted by reason, representing the essence of human nature.

Even though these formulations differ from each other, the principle for which they all stand is the same. They all state that the principles of natural law are immutable, eternally valid, and have primacy over positive law, which cannot claim validity if it does not conform to natural law.

Legal Positivism

The power and influence of natural law waned in the 18th and 19th centuries. Montesquieu, Hume, and Adam Smith criticized this theory for its claim that there is an ultimate, metaphysical purpose to human existence and human society, separate from the everyday realities of life. But not only did the power of natural law weaken, but its validity also weakened. As a result, an increased emphasis on the concept of state power and coercion emerged.

All this led to the emergence of positive law, which directly confronts the ideas of natural law. In this new framework, law was no longer seen as a divine whisper or a cosmic truth, but as a deliberate social construct, or a set of rules created by humans, for humans, and enforced by the power of the state.

Probably the best definition of positive law (or legal positivism) is the one given by Kenneth Einar Himma, an American philosopher, author, and lawyer. In Morality and the Nature of Law, he states the following:

“Positive law does not base law on God’s commandments, reason, or human rights. In a historical sense, positivism appears as an opposition to the classical theory of natural law, according to which there are necessary moral limitations regarding the content of the right/law.”

(Kenneth Einar Himma, Morality and the Nature of Law, 2019)

The dispute between natural and positive law has been going on for centuries. The rivalry between them is especially noticeable in cases of extreme necessity and poverty. These are cases that force people to commit the most horrendous crimes, not because they want to, but because they are forced to do so. The American philosopher Lon L. Fuller showcased the century-long dispute in his book The Case of the Speluncean Explorers.

The Case of the Speluncean Explorers

Fuller presents a hypothetical case in which a group of five explorers finds themselves trapped in a large underground cave after a rockfall blocks the entrance. The rescue operation (in which ten rescuers have already died) did not succeed in rescuing them, and the people in the cave are threatened with death from hunger and thirst.

They manage to establish radio contact with the rescue team and learn that there is no chance of being pulled from underground for at least another ten days, and the doctors on the team confirm that they cannot survive without food until then. So, the explorers decide to roll a dice to determine who will be eaten. They all agree on that, and it turns out that the explorer who suggested rolling the dice to be the one eaten.

Should the defendants be found guilty in this case? Which law is applicable in this case? Is it natural or positive law that should have supremacy?

This case illustrates the complexity of determining guilt and further confirms the dispute between natural and positive law. There are many positions defending natural law, but at the same time, there are also many positions defending positive law in this case. It just goes to show that the question is not an easy one, and because of that, the dispute remains open until this very day.

Structure of Philosophy of Law

Just like it is in the scope of general philosophy, the philosophy of law is riddled with the same type of questions and issues. Let’s see what they are.

First and foremost, the philosophy of law has its own ontology. It concerns the very nature of law and justice, and the general relations between them and the rest of the events and occasions in the world.

The philosophy of law also has its own epistemology. It concerns the sources and means of knowledge of law and justice, the criteria for grading and judging certain actions and crimes, and the methods used to determine whether these actions are just and lawful or violate the law.

There also exists a legal logic that examines the lawful and truthful aspects of legal thought and judgment. The task of this discipline is to explain the just thinking and its laws, but also to standardize the laws and rules of the just thinking, all whilst studying the opinion and what it should be.

Another field we can encounter within the scope of the philosophy of law is axiology. Axiology investigates the legal values, starting from those close to the human being, such as justice, freedom, equality, and human rights. However, the axiology of law also investigates the hierarchy of values and the state of general civilizational values.

A special part of legal axiology is the anthropology of law, which addresses the anthropological basis of law, the term “legal man” (homo iuridicus), and man and his personality as a basic legal value.

The transition from the Middle Ages to Modernity marks one of the most significant transformations in the history of philosophy. Often dismissed as intellectually stagnant, medieval philosophy was in fact a rich and complex tradition that shaped later debates about reason, faith, knowledge, and reality. As political, scientific, and cultural conditions changed, philosophical inquiry gradually shifted away from theological frameworks toward a new emphasis on human reason and experience. Read on to learn more about the evolution of philosophy from the Middle Ages to Modernity.

The Middle Ages: A Misunderstood Era in the Evolution of Philosophy

The Middle Ages are often portrayed as an intellectually stagnant period dominated by blind faith and religious authority. This characterization, however, overlooks the depth, originality, and lasting influence of medieval philosophy. Far from suppressing reason, medieval thinkers actively engaged with logic, metaphysics, ethics, and epistemology, developing sophisticated philosophical systems that shaped the course of Western thought.

Medieval philosophy emerged from the encounter between classical Greek philosophy and the theological traditions of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. Rather than rejecting ancient thinkers such as Plato and Aristotle, medieval philosophers preserved, translated, and critically expanded upon their works. This process ensured the survival of classical philosophy and allowed it to evolve within new intellectual frameworks. Monasteries, cathedral schools, and later universities became centers of rigorous debate and scholarly inquiry.

A defining feature of medieval philosophy was its exploration of the relationship between faith and reason. Thinkers such as Augustine, Anselm, and Thomas Aquinas argued that rational inquiry could coexist with, and even support, religious belief. Logical analysis was used to clarify theological doctrines, while metaphysical arguments addressed questions about existence, causality, and the nature of God. Far from discouraging critical thought, medieval philosophy refined methods of argumentation that remain foundational to philosophy today.

The Middle Ages also produced significant advances in logic and semantics, particularly through scholasticism. Medieval logicians developed precise analytical tools, distinctions, and methods that influenced early modern philosophy and modern logic. Debates over universals, free will, and the nature of knowledge anticipated concerns later taken up by modern thinkers.

Understanding medieval philosophy as a dynamic and intellectually vibrant tradition challenges the myth of a “dark age.” Rather than representing a break in philosophical progress, the Middle Ages served as a crucial bridge between antiquity and modernity. Without its conceptual frameworks, preserved texts, and disciplined methods of reasoning, the philosophical revolutions of the modern era would not have been possible.

Most Prominent Medieval Philosophers

Medieval philosophy spans nearly a millennium and includes a diverse range of thinkers who worked within Christian, Islamic, and Jewish intellectual traditions. Among the earliest and most influential figures is Augustine of Hippo, whose synthesis of Christian theology and Platonic philosophy shaped Western thought for centuries. Augustine emphasized the inner life, divine illumination, and the restless nature of the human soul, laying the foundations for medieval metaphysics and ethics.

Another key figure is Anselm of Canterbury, best known for formulating the ontological argument for the existence of God. Anselm’s motto, faith seeking understanding, captures the medieval conviction that reason and belief are complementary. His work exemplifies the emerging scholastic method, which relied on precise definitions and logical argumentation.

Thomas Aquinas stands as the most influential medieval philosopher. Drawing extensively from Aristotle, Aquinas developed a comprehensive system that reconciled reason and revelation. In works such as Summa Theologiae, he addressed metaphysics, ethics, natural law, and theology, arguing that human reason could attain genuine knowledge of the natural world while remaining consistent with faith.

Beyond the Latin Christian world, medieval philosophy flourished in the Islamic and Jewish traditions. Avicenna and Averroes played a crucial role in preserving and interpreting Aristotle, profoundly influencing European thought. Avicenna’s metaphysics shaped debates on essence and existence, while Averroes defended the autonomy of reason. In the Jewish tradition, Maimonides sought to harmonize Aristotelian philosophy with biblical theology, emphasizing rational understanding of divine law.

Later medieval thinkers such as William of Ockham challenged scholastic complexity, advocating for conceptual economy and separating philosophy from theology. Together, these philosophers demonstrate the richness and diversity of medieval thought, whose influence extended far beyond its historical boundaries and directly shaped the emergence of modern philosophy.

Descartes and the Transition to Modernity

René Descartes occupies a pivotal position in the history of philosophy, standing at the threshold between medieval thought and modern philosophy. Writing in the early 17th century, Descartes sought to break with inherited authorities and establish a new foundation for knowledge grounded in reason alone. His work reflects the broader intellectual transformation of his time, shaped by the scientific revolution, the decline of scholasticism, and growing skepticism toward traditional explanations of the world.

Descartes’ method of systematic doubt marked a radical departure from medieval philosophy. Rather than beginning with theological assumptions or established doctrines, he proposed doubting all beliefs that could possibly be false. This approach led to his famous conclusion, cogito, ergo sum; the realization that the act of thinking itself guarantees the existence of the thinking subject. With this insight, Descartes shifted philosophy’s starting point from God or nature to the self-conscious human mind.

This emphasis on subjectivity signaled the birth of modern epistemology. Knowledge was no longer primarily derived from tradition or authority but from clear and distinct ideas accessible through reason. Descartes also introduced a strict distinction between mind and body, redefining the metaphysical landscape and influencing later debates in science and philosophy.

While Descartes did not entirely reject God or metaphysics, he redefined their philosophical roles. God became the guarantor of rational certainty rather than the starting point of inquiry. In doing so, Descartes helped dissolve the medieval synthesis of faith and reason and paved the way for modern philosophical movements such as Rationalism and Empiricism. His work marks a decisive transition toward modernity, where human reason becomes the primary foundation of knowledge.

Rationalism

Rationalism is one of the central philosophical movements of the modern era, defined by the belief that reason is the primary source of knowledge. Emerging in the 17th century, rationalism developed in response to skepticism about sensory experience and the limitations of tradition. Rationalist philosophers argued that certain truths can be known independently of experience through intellectual insight, logical deduction, and innate principles of the mind.

As previously mentioned, René Descartes is often considered the founder of modern rationalism, emphasizing clear and distinct ideas as the basis of certainty. However, following Descartes, philosophers such as Baruch Spinoza and Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz expanded rationalist thought into comprehensive metaphysical systems. Spinoza sought to understand reality through strict logical necessity, arguing that everything follows from a single, rational substance. Leibniz, in turn, proposed that reality consists of immaterial monads governed by rational principles and pre-established harmony.

A defining feature of rationalism is its confidence in the power of reason to uncover fundamental truths about reality, morality, and God. Rationalists often defended the existence of innate ideas: concepts not derived from sensory experience but embedded in the structure of the mind itself. Mathematics served as a model for rationalist knowledge, demonstrating how certainty could be achieved through deduction rather than observation.

Despite its strengths, rationalism faced criticism for its apparent distance from empirical reality. These critiques gave rise to empiricism, which emphasized experience as the source of knowledge. Nevertheless, rationalism played a crucial role in shaping modern philosophy by establishing reason as a central authority in the pursuit of truth and by laying the groundwork for later debates about knowledge, science, and metaphysics.

Empiricism

Empiricism, on the other hand, is a major philosophical movement of the modern period that emphasizes experience as the primary source of human knowledge. Emerging largely in Britain during the 17th and 18th centuries, empiricism developed as a response to rationalist claims about innate ideas and purely deductive knowledge. Empiricists argued that the mind gains its content through interaction with the world, and that observation and experience form the foundation of understanding.

John Locke is often regarded as the founder of modern empiricism. In his Essay Concerning Human Understanding, Locke rejected the notion of innate ideas and described the mind as a tabula rasa, or blank slate, shaped by sensation and reflection. Building on this foundation, George Berkeley pushed empiricism in an idealist direction, arguing that existence consists in being perceived and denying the existence of matter independent of perception.

David Hume brought empiricism to its most radical conclusion. By insisting that all ideas must be traced back to sensory impressions, Hume challenged traditional concepts such as causality, substance, and the self. He argued that causal connections are not logically necessary but formed through habit and expectation, raising serious doubts about the certainty of scientific and metaphysical knowledge.

Empiricism profoundly influenced the development of modern science by prioritizing observation, experimentation, and evidence over speculation. At the same time, its skeptical implications exposed limitations in human reason, prompting new philosophical responses. Most notably, Immanuel Kant sought to resolve the conflict between empiricism and rationalism by arguing that while knowledge begins with experience, it is structured by the mind, a philosophical school called idealism, as we are about to see.

The Evolution of Philosophy and Idealism

Idealism is a major philosophical movement that emerged in response to the tensions between rationalism and empiricism, seeking to explain how knowledge and reality are shaped by the mind. Rather than treating the external world as something fully independent of human cognition, idealist philosophers argued that reality is in some fundamental sense dependent on mental structures, consciousness, or reason. Idealism became especially influential in the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, reshaping modern philosophy.

Immanuel Kant marks the decisive turning point toward idealism. While rejecting the claim that reality is created by the mind, Kant argued that the world as we know it is structured by the mind’s a priori forms and categories. Space, time, and causality are not properties of things-in-themselves, but conditions through which human experience is possible. This position, known as transcendental idealism, sought to preserve objective knowledge while acknowledging the limits of human understanding.

Building on Kant’s work, German Idealists such as Arthur Schopenhauer, Friedrich Schelling, and Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel developed more ambitious systems. Idealism had far-reaching implications for metaphysics, ethics, and political philosophy. By emphasizing the active role of consciousness in shaping reality, it challenged purely materialistic and mechanistic worldviews. Although later philosophical movements reacted against idealism, its influence remains profound, shaping debates about subjectivity, freedom, history, and the nature of reality in modern philosophy.

Albert Camus and Jean-Paul Sartre shared similar philosophical interests and published essays, plays, and fiction on the same subjects. However, they were never close friends, and whatever friendship they had ended after the 1951 publication of Camus’s book-length essay The Rebel. Albert Camus is often considered today as an existentialist. In this article, we will see why this label is inappropriate due to his belief in the existence of human nature.

Who Was Albert Camus?

Albert Camus was born in Algiers in 1913. A year later, his father, Lucien Camus, died from wounds received fighting in WWI. Camus grew up in poverty, living in a cramped three-bedroom apartment with his mother, grandmother, and brother. The normal plan for him would have been to find work as soon as possible in order to help support the family; however, Camus was a very bright child and won a scholarship at secondary school.

In 1930, aged seventeen, Camus was diagnosed with tuberculosis. His illness had a profound effect on his life. Not only was it a painful and debilitating condition, but it also prevented him from becoming a teacher and exempted him from duty during the Second World War. Camus sought to fight and joined the Resistance after relocating to Paris.

Camus moved to Paris in 1940. Before that, he worked as a journalist and served as a leading member of a theater company. During this period, he wrote and published lyrical essays and worked on his book-length essay The Myth of Sisyphus, the novel The Stranger, and the play Caligula. He also published a review of Jean-Paul Sartre’s novel Nausea (1938).

While working for a newspaper in Paris, a role he did not particularly enjoy, Camus completed his essay and novel. In 1941, he and his wife Francine returned to Algiers. Whilst there, The Stranger and The Myth of Sisyphus were published in France. Comparisons were drawn between Camus’s work and that of Sartre. During this time, Camus suffered greatly from his tuberculosis.

In 1942, Camus returned to Paris to a hero’s welcome. He became a fixture on the literary scene and had a friendship with Jean-Paul Sartre. However, this friendship was to end after Camus published his second book-length essay, The Rebel, in 1951.

Who Was Jean-Paul Sartre?

In 1905, Jean-Paul Sartre was born in Paris to a wealthy family. His father was an officer in the navy who died from an illness contracted in Indochina when Sartre was just two years old. As a teenager, he developed an interest in philosophy and went on to study at the prestigious École Normale Supérieure. In 1929, he met Simone de Beauvoir (pictured above), who was studying at the nearby Sorbonne. Although they were never married and maintained an open relationship, they became lifelong companions.

As mentioned above, in 1938, Sartre published Nausea, his short novel on the absurd. This work has become an existential classic; however, Camus’s review (written in Algiers before he and Sartre had met) was cool. He wrote that the philosophy in the novel stuck out like a sore thumb. Camus’s own novel of the absurd, The Stranger (1942), is also considered an existential classic and is widely accepted as a far superior novel.

It was around this time that Sartre wrote his play, No Exit (1944). It is in this play that we hear the now-famous line ‘Hell is other people.’ It is generally considered that Sartre’s plays are superior to those of Camus, who chose to write his theatrical works in a heavy, classical style that some find jarring.

We note that Camus and Sartre were friends but parted ways after Camus published The Rebel in 1951. However, before we look at this, it will be useful to look at a short publication (a transcript of a public lecture) published by Sartre in 1946: Existentialism Is a Humanism. It is here that we find one of the key ideas of his existentialism, that existence precedes essence.

Why Is Sartre Considered an Existentialist?

The text “Existentialism Is a Humanism” is a public lecture delivered by Sartre at Club Maintenant in Paris in 1945. Prior to this, no philosopher had taken ownership of the label ‘existentialism.’

There have been a few thinkers regarded as so-called ‘founding fathers’ of existentialism, or at least as proto-existentialists. These include Søren Kierkegaard (1813-1855), Fyodor Dostoevsky (1821-1881), Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900), and Martin Heidegger (1889-1976). However, Sartre was the only thinker to embrace the label.

It is worth noting at this point why philosophers might reject the label ‘existentialist.’ First, it may be that the label is not suggested during their lifetime. That is, the term might only come into public usage after a particular philosopher is long dead. Here, they never got the chance to accept, let alone embrace, the label in their lifetime. However, for those alive, well, and working when a label is used, there is a very good reason why they may wish to reject a label.

All thinkers like to think of themselves as original and unique. Labels, such as ‘existentialist,’ categorize an individual’s thinking. It makes them part of a movement; it gives readers a ‘heads up’ as to how they ought to be read. Very few thinkers want to be seen in this way. Albert Camus rejected, his whole life, the label of ‘existentialist,’ whereas Sartre embraced it.

As we shall see, there are important differences between the philosophy of Camus and that of others now considered to be existentialists. The interesting question for now is why Sartre embraced the label. A plausible answer was that it was ‘up for grabs.’ That is, since no one had claimed it, Sartre could take it for himself and define it how he liked.

Existence Precedes Essence

The idea that existence precedes essence means, in simple terms, that people are not born to fulfill a previously designed purpose. What this means is that, for Sartre, human beings are not born with a pre-ordained path or objective. Consider, in this regard, an acorn. The acorn has only two paths open to it: either it will rot or be eaten, in other words, it will be destroyed, or it will grow into an oak tree. The essence of the acorn precedes what it will be. With human beings, on the other hand, whatever they will become after infancy is not fixed. For Sartre, we all exist and then choose what we will become.

In his lecture, which would later become Existentialism Is a Humanism, Sartre asked his audience to think of a paper-knife. This object is created with a function in mind, that is, opening letters, and is designed to fulfill this function. Whenever we come across a paper-knife, we have an object in our hands that was designed and created by people in order to fulfill the function of a paper-knife. However, human beings, according to Sartre, were not created by someone in order to fulfill some function. God, says Sartre, is regarded by believers as a kind of supernatural artisan who created human beings to perform or serve a function.

However, because Sartre was an atheist, he did not believe in any deity. Therefore, there is no ‘artisan’ that produced human beings, and human beings were not ‘designed’ to perform some kind of function. This means, the ‘essence,’ what it is that human beings are and what they are for, cannot precede their existence, that is, their presence on Earth. After we are born, that is, after we come into existence, we are free to choose what we will be.

Radical Freedom

Sartre argued that we are “condemned to be free.” He said that we are nothing but what we make of ourselves. Sartre places the responsibility for where we end up in life on our own shoulders. His view is at once both liberating and devastating. Sartre compares human beings to moss or cauliflowers. As we saw above with the example of acorns, these things have no part to play in what they will become. Unlike simple vegetables, we have the opportunity to use our lives how we see fit.

Sartre points out that many of us have grand ideas about what we might be. For those who fail to achieve what they hoped for, Sartre offers no consolation. He places responsibility for who we are squarely on our own shoulders. But, of course, factors outside of our control play a part in our lives.

Sartre accepts that there is a ‘condition’ of human beings. There will inevitably be people who find themselves in situations in which there seems to be little choice in what they can do. For example, someone born a slave has a very limited choice in what they can do about their situation.

However, for Sartre, the condition of human beings is not in their ‘nature.’ In other words, someone born into slavery is not by nature a slave. If they continue to act as if they were a slave and justify their servitude by claims to their nature as a slave, Sartre would argue that they were wrong and in bad faith.

‘Bad faith’ is the phenomenon of denying one’s own existential freedom. A classic example of someone acting in bad faith is the soldier accused of war crimes who attempts to justify their actions by claiming they were only following orders.

Camus and Human Nature

In his book-length essay The Rebel (1951), Camus speculated that there might exist something like human nature. In the first chapter, he writes: “An analysis of rebellion leads us to the suspicion that, contrary to the postulates of contemporary thought, a human nature does exist, as the Greeks believed. Why rebel if there is nothing worth preserving in oneself?”

What Camus meant was that the instinct to rebel is something human beings are born with, that it is in their natures to rebel against injustices. Here, Camus is not simply referring to a negative reaction to someone treating a person badly, but rather the idea that there is something about human beings as a whole that means it is wrong to treat them in particular ways. For example, we might say that slavery is wrong simply because it is wrong to disrespect the autonomy of others and to treat them as means to some end.

On this point, Camus’ philosophy clearly differs from Sartre’s. We saw that Sartre holds human beings come into existence prior to becoming what they are. Whereas Camus believes that some fundamental essence of humanity exists prior to existence. That is, there is something we all share simply by virtue of being human beings. For Camus, this is an inbuilt sense that all human beings have something in common with each other (what we might call ‘human dignity’) that can be violated by the actions of others. And in addition, we share a common impulse to rebel whenever we witness such violations. Camus summed up this instinct or impulse with the following philosophical formula: “I rebel – therefore we exist.”

If the idea that existence precedes existence is an essential tenet of existentialism, then Albert Camus cannot be considered an existentialist; a label he consistently and vehemently denied.