Texts:1971 Man and His Circumstances Annotations: Difference between revisions

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<div class="anno" ID="A9">A9</div><div class="annotext">PEDAGOGY WAS NOT DIDACTICS (p. 22). This confusion has arisen in most modern languages, but it has been especially serious in English. In the late nineteenth century, the word "pedagogy" was identified with a system of didactics that reformers wanted to destroy. They at least managed to do away with the phrase "pedagogy." For a typical example of the educationist's attitude towards pedagogy see the entry under that heading in Monroe's <i>Cyclopedia of Education</i>. The article laconically proclaimed that the term had a dubious past and that wherever possible "education" should instead be used to escape the stigma of pedagogy. At the time the author was right, for "pedagogy" had generally been used as a synonym for "didactics," as "education" is now used carelessly as a synonym on the one hand for "training" and on the other for "propaganda." Perhaps we can steady the pendulum of fashion by insisting that both "pedagogy" and "education" be used rightly and whenever appropriate. Another amusing indication of the educationists' distaste for the  word "pedagogy" is the metamorphosis of <i>The Pedagogical Seminary</i> into <i>The Journal of Genetic Psychology, Child Behavior, Animal Behavior, and Comparative Psychology</i>!</div>

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It is worthwhile to note the similarity of Ortega's conception of a civic ideal as something that points to the infinite and Edmund Husserl's conception of the <i>telos</i> of European man as an infinite, rather than a finite goal, "Philosophy and the Crisis of European Man," in <i>Phenomenology and the Crisis of Philosophy</i>, Quentin Lauer, trans., pp. 157-8.</div>

<div class="anno" ID="A15">A15</div><div class="annotext">HERACLITUS EPIGRAPHS (p. 33). The fragments quoted at the end of Chapters III, IV, V, X, XI, and XV have been translated by Kathleen Freeman in her <i>Ancilla to the Pre-Socratic Philosophers</i>. The fragments quoted at the end of Chapters I, VI, VII, VII, and XVI have been translated by Philip Wheelwright in his <i>Heraclitus</i>. By Wheelwright's numbering system the fragments quoted are 10, 83, 88, 70, and 45. The fragment quoted at the end of Chapter IX has been translated by G. 5. Kirk and J. E. Raven in <i>The Pre-Socratic Philosophers</i> where it is numbered fragment 254. The fragment quoted at the end of Chapter XII has been translated by John Burnet in his <i>Early Greek Philosophy</i>, fragment 7. The fragments at the end of Chapters II, XIII, and XIV have been translated  by W. H. S. Jones in the Loeb Classical Library edition of <i>Heraclitus</i>, fragments I, CXXVI, and XIX.</div>

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<div class="anno" ID="A16">A16</div><div class="annotext">RECOURSE TO LOVE ... IS NEEDED TD EXPLIN TWO FEATURES OF LEARNING (p. 35). I In addition to Ortega's writings on the subject discussed below, my views have been influenced by Plato and Goethe. Plato's <i>Symposium</i> is, of course, fundamental but his attitude also is insinuated through most of his works and a familiarity with these is helpful in trying to follow Diotima's teaching as it is recounted by Socrates in the <i>Symposium</i>. There are useful discussions of <i>Eros</i> in Plato's philosophy in Paul Friedländer, <i>Plato: An Introduction</i>, <i>passim</i> and esp. pp. 32-58; F. M. Cornford, <i>The Unwritten Philosophy and Other Essays</i>, pp. 68-80; G. M. A. Grube, <i>Plato's Thought</i>, pp. 87-119; and Julius Stenzel, <i>Platon der Erzieher</i>, pp. 191-248. Goethe's great examination of the relation of love and self-culture is in <i>Wilhelm Meister</i>, <i>passim</i>. An excellent study by Ortega's contemporary, Max Scheler, is <i>Wesen und Formen der Sympathie</i>, a book that Ortega was quite familiar with. A striking book on <i>Eros and Education</i> could be written.</div>

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<div class="anno" ID="A18">A18</div><div class="annotext">PHILOSOPHY IS A TRADITION OF SPECULATION (p. 36).  See Ortega's "Prólogo a <i>Historia de Ia filosofía</i> de Karl Vorländer," 1922, and "Prólogo a <i>Historia de la filosofía</i> de Emile Bréhier," 1942, <i>Obras</i> VI, pp. 292-300, 377-418, as well as <i>Origen y epílogo de la filosofía</i>, 1943, 1960, <i>Obras</i> IX, pp. 349-434,  for his views on the history of philosophy, which have influenced my views here. One of the better histories of philosophy for studying Ortega's preparations is<i> The Spirit of Modern Philosophy</i> by Josiah Royce, for in it he treats idealism as a living tradition rather than as a series of closed systems.</div>

<div class="anno" ID="A30">A30</div><div class="annotext">AMERICAN EDUCATIONAL THEORISTS HAVE FORGOTTEN NATORP (p. 52). In 1900, a short review by Arthur Allin of the first edition of Natorp's <i>Sozialpädagogik</i> appeared in the <i>Educational Review</i>, Vol. 19, March 1900, pp. 290-295. A more substantial essay, "Paul Natorp's Social Pedagogy," by M. W. Meyerhardt was published in <i>The Pedagogical Seminary</i>, Vol. 23, March 1916, pp. 51-62. One of the few other significant pieces on Natorp published in the United States is the short, lucid article by Horace L. Friess, "Paul Natorp," in the <i>Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences</i>, Vol. 11, p. 283. Another excellent review of Natorp' s accomplishments is the translation of an article, "Paul Natorp," by Mariano Campo in <i>The Encyclopedia of Philosophy</i>, Vol. 5, pp. 445-8.</div>

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<div class="anno" ID="A31">A31</div><div class="annotext">ORTEGA'S PRECOCITY WAS TO REALIZE THAT SPANISH RENOVATION WAS AN EDUCATIONAL PROBLEM (p. 62). This conviction was apparent in some of Ortega's earliest essays. See "La pedagogía del paisaje," 1906; "Sobre los estudios clásicos," 1907; "'Pidiendo una biblioteca," 1908; and "Asamblea para el progreso de las ciencias," 1908; in <i>Obras</i> I, pp. 53–7, 63–7, 81–5, and 99–110. See also "Reforma del carácter, no reforma de costumbres," <i>El Imparcial</i>, October 5, 1907, <i>Obras</i> X, pp. 17–21. In the letter of May 28, 1905, to Navarro Ledesma, Ortega wrote about the educational responsibilities of the Spanish reformers; see "Cartas inéditas a Navarro Ledesma," <i>Cuadernos</i>, November 1961, especially p. 12.</div>

<div class="anno" ID="A46">A46</div><div class="annotext">ORTEGA WAS NO TECHNOCRAT (p. 86). In "Competencia," 1913, Obras X, pp. 226--231, Ortega showed a keen appreciation for the importance of high technical competence within industry and government ministries. Thus, in saying that he was no technocrat, one is not saying that he scorned technical excellence. The question, rather, concerned the kind of shared· aspirations that might bring about and sustain technical excellence. To achieve technical excellence, a people had to aspire to much more than technical excellence, for the truly competent technician was the man who had set out to master the pinnacles of science and who found along the way that his proper contribution was working somewhere short of that goal. This view was fundamental to Ortega's analysis of the dangers to modern civilization inherent in a general lowering of aspirations, and he gave a good early expression of it in "Asamblea para el progreso de las ciencias," 1908, <i>Obras</i> I, pp. 99–110. The greatest menace to technology was the technocrat who believed that technology would alone suffice.</div>

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<div class="anno" ID="A47">A47</div><div class="annotext">ORTEGA'S PURPOSES ARE REFLECTED IN HIS PROSE STYLE (p. 98). There have been several studies of Ortega as a writer. A rather technical but useful work is <i>Lengua y estilo de Ortega y Gasset</i> by Ricardo Senabre Sempere, although Senabre goes too far towards considering Ortega's style independent from his thought. Sister Mary Terese Avila Duffy does not do this in her interesting dissertation, "José Ortega y Gasset: The Creation of a Literary Genre for Philosophy"; but Ortega's style was more than a philosophical genre. Julián Marías has a thoughtful section on Ortega as a writer in <i>Ortega—I: Circunstancia y vocación</i>, pp. 259–353. In <i>Origen y epílogo de la filosofía</i>, 1943, 1960, <i>Obras</i> X, pp. 400–2, Ortega briefly discussed the importance of style for comprehending philosophy, and it is a subject that merits much further study. It is surprising, in view of all the attention that has been paid in recent years to language in philosophy, that the techniques of the literary critic have not been more fruitfully applied to the works of past philosophers. <i>A Grammar of Motives</i> and <i>A Rhetoric of Motives</i> by Kenneth Burke indicate the possibilities that might arise for systematic philosophy and <i>Preface to Plato</i> by Eric A. Havelock the possibilities for historical interpretation.</div>

<div class="anno" ID="A53">A53</div><div class="annotext">THUS, ORTEGA COULD USE THE PEDAGOGY OF ALLUSIQN (p. 113). Owing to the narrowness of our present conception of pedagogy, important dimensions of comparison between the work of various thinkers are difficult to perceive. For instance, there are difficulties explaining how the philosophical views of Ortega and Heidegger differed; yet these difficulties would disappear if we could compare the allusive pedagogy Ortega used in explaining his position with Heidegger's pedagogy of specification. Compare how Ortega and Heidegger handled the problem of ensuring that philosophy referred to life as it was lived. Whereas Ortega chose to explicate his ideas by means of references to everyday situations, Heidegger conceptualized the everyday and insisted that the problem for ontology was to understand the Being of Dasein "in its average everydayness." (<i>Being and Time</i>, Macquarrie and Robinson, trans., pp. 37–8.) Both men began with the same insight into the transcendent primacy of personal existence, and from there one proceeded to convert the technical into the everyday and the other the everyday into the technical. By considering the pedagogical dimension, the way a philosopher chooses to present his views, certain significant questions open up. For instance, what part of the human consequences of a doctrine stems from the doctrine itself and what part from the pedagogy chosen by the philosopher to inform his presentation of his doctrine? This question is significant, for many choose their philosophies according to the human consequences they believe these bear, and it is not always clear whether objectionable consequences derive from the doctrine or the teaching of the doctrine. Thus, in <i>Nihilism: A Philosophical Essay</i>, Stanley Rosen severely criticizes Heidegger for nihilism, suggesting that Heidegger equated silence with the source of significance. One comes away, however, from Rosen's critique with an unsatisfied question: do the doctrines themselves lead to silence or the modes of presenting the doctrines chosen by particular adherents to them?</div>

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<div class="anno" ID="A54">A54</div><div class="annotext"TO CULTIVATE INTELLECTUALITY IN SPAIN (p. 119). >In giving Ortega the Chair of Metaphysics, the university was taking a surprising step, for Ortega had been outspoken about the existing inadequacies of the university and had made known his intention to try to change things. Articles unlikely to endear Ortega to the complacent academic establishment were "Sobre los estudios clásicos," 1907; "Pidiendo una biblioteca," 1908; "Asamblea para el progreso de las ciencias," 1908; and "Una fiesta de paz," 1909, <i>Obras</i> I, pp. 63–7, 81–5, 99–110, 124–7. Other essays that reflect the same views are "La reforma liberal," <i>Faro</i>, February 23, 1908, <i>Obras</i> X, pp. 31–8; "La conservación de la cultura," <i>Faro</i>, March 8, 1908, <i>Obras</i> X, pp. 39–46; "Sobre la pequeña filosofía," <i>El Imparcial</i>, April 13, 1908, <i>Obras</i> X, pp. 51–5; "La cuestión moral," <i>El Imparcial</i>, August 27, 1908, <i>Obras</i> X, pp. 73–8; "Catecismo para la lectura de una carta," <i>El Imparcial</i>, February 10, 1910, <i>Obras</i> X, pp. 133–B; "Pablo Iglesias," <i>El Imparcial</i>, May 13, 1910, <i>Obras</i> X, pp. 139–142; "Diputado por la cultura," <i>El Imparcial</i>, May 28, 1910, <i>Obras</i> X, pp. 143–6; and a lecture given in La Casa de Partido Socialista Madrileño, December 2, 1910 on "La ciencia y la religión como problemas políticos," <i>Obras</i> X, pp. 119–127. It is interesting to compare Ortega's views in this lecture with those of some radical students and professors today who are suggesting with some basis that in times of deep division even the seemingly most disinterested studies are not really apolitical. Somehow we need to learn how to claim protection for originating and exploring ideas without asserting the sterile pretension to disinterestedness.</div>

An indication of how contemporary educators attribute purposes to the curriculum rather than to students is to be found in Daniel Bell's excellent critique of general education, <i>The Reforming of General Education</i>, p. 152. Purposes that are properly embodied in men are spoken of as embodied in the curriculum. "In the more limited and specific ways that such purposes can be embodied in a curriculum, the content of liberal education ... can be defined through six purposes: 1) To overcome intellectual provincialism; 2) To appreciate the centrality of method; 3) To gain an awareness of history; 4) To show how ideas relate to social structures; 5) To understand the way values infuse all inquiry; 6) To demonstrate the civilizing role of the humanities." Take the first purpose, to overcome intellectual provincialism. If it is to be embodied in the curriculum, many intellectual provinces will have to be presented sympathetically. If it is embodied in the student, the curriculum will need to give effective instruction in the many languages, the use of which will permit the student to chart his own course through the various provinces. A cosmopolitan curriculum is a kind of intellectual Disneyland, whereas a true cosmopolitan has really made the Grand Tour, learning to use a rich inheritance—monetary or spiritual—with effect. I have discussed the rationale of study and the liberal arts more fully in "On the Liberality of the Liberal Arts," <i>Teachers College Record</i>, Vol. 72, No. 3, February 1971, pp. 405-416; and "Towards a Place for Study in a World of Instruction," to be published in <i>Teachers College Record</i>, Vol. 73, No. 2, December 1971.</div>

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<div class="anno" ID="A65">A65</div><div class="annotext">ORTEGA EARLY BROKE WITH EL IMPARCIAL (p. 153). My account of Ortega's break with his family's paper diverges from the usual accounts. Both Lorenzo Luzuriaga, in his "Las fundaciones de Ortega y Gasset," Instituto de Filosofía, <i>Homenaje a Ortega y Gasset</i>, and Evelyne López-Campillo,in her "Ortega: <i>El Imparcial</i> y las Juntas," <i>Revista de Occidente</i>, June 1969, pp. 311–7, base the chronology of their account almost solely on a remark by Ortega in <i>La decencia nacional</i>, 1932. Ortega's remark, a note explaining why he included "Bajo el arco en ruina" in the book, was as follows: "This article was published in <i>El Imparcial</i> on June 11, 1917. A few days before, in Barcelona, the Juntas de Defensa del Arma de Infantería had declared themselves in rebellion. The disputes to which this article gave rise had, as a result, the founding of the newspaper <i>El Sol</i> by D. Nicolás María de Urgoiti." (<i>Obras</i> XI, p. 265, n. 1). On this basis, both Luzuriaga and López-Campillo contend that Ortega's break with <i>El Imparcial</i> came at this time. This contention, however, is unsatisfactory.<br/><br/>

<div class="anno" ID="A67">A67</div><div class="annotext">WRITERS HAVE CONFUSED THE CONCEPT OF CULTURE (p. 173). The erroneous belief, unfortunately propagated by T. S. Eliot in <i>Notes Towards the Definition of Culture</i>, 1949, that there is a divergence between the so-called "literary" idea of culture and the "anthropological" has freed too many writers who should know better to play fast and loose with the idea of culture. If "culture" is to denote human artifacts, the word itself is meaningless, for it will denote everything. Hence, it will become significant only when qualified: aristocratic, democratic, proletarian, mass, high, middle, low, popular, unpopular, primitive, and so on <i>ad infinitum</i>. There are, taking up this procedure, many interesting essays on the problems of popular or mass culture. Many of these are gathered by Bernard Rosenberg and David Manning White in <i>Mass Culture: The Popular Arts in America</i>. See also Dwight Macdonald, "Masscult and Midcult," in <i>Against the American Grain</i>. Most of this writing seems to have missed the reality of culture, which is not in the artifact, but in the man. Both the literary humanist and the anthropologist seem to be nearing agreement that culture is man's symbolic means for giving a particular character to himself. The important book here is not the overrated compendium by A. L. Kroeber and Clyde Kluckhohn, <i>Culture: A Critical Review of Concepts and Definitions</i>, but Eric R, Wolf's <i>Anthropology</i>. Wolf shows that anthropologists need to view the culture of any particular people as a hierarchical symbolic system by which those people give themselves their unique character. As soon as culture can again be seen as an hierarchical system, the disjunction between different strata of culture can be overcome, and we can make the concept serve as a powerful tool for fashioning a better understanding of education. In this context, John Dewey's <i>Freedom and Culture</i> will be found to be a much more effective examination of the function of culture in industrial democracies than the confused talk about mass culture. There is an immense literature on the idea of culture. Raymond Williams' <i>Culture and Society</i> is a useful survey of the development of these two concepts in English intellectual history. Such a study should be made of how ideas of culture and education have developed since 1750, for it may well be that many of the current difficulties with the idea of culture have arisen because educators, in the name of democratic egalitarianism, have avoided dealing with "culture," which can only be defined properly in relation to education. Matthew Arnold's <i>Culture and Anarchy: An Essay in Political and Social Criticism</i> is an excellent companion to Ortega's <i>Revolt of the Masses</i>. Arnold's conception of culture as the pursuit of perfection (see especially Chapter 1) is still valid; it is consistent with current anthropological findings; and it is crucial to developing an alternative to the continued aggrandisement of the contemporary state, a state very different from the one Arnold so revered.</div>

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<div class="anno" ID="A68">A68</div><div class="annotext">ROUSSEAU'S PRESENTATION OF THE WILL OF ALL AND THE GENERAL WILL WAS FLAWED (p. 202). From the beginning Rousseau has suffered at the hands of critics who will substitute a <i>Bon mot</i> for an argument. To me, Rousseau's writings are second only to Plato's in their heuristic value; and being inclined to approach Rousseau's writings as heuristic stimulants, not epitomes of some dogma—romantic, democratic, totalitarian, or anti-intellectual—I find most of the debate about Rousseau incomprehensible. Rousseau's writing reflects a deep sympathy with the thought of Plato and the Stoics; Rousseau had internalized their work, and surely the greatness of the "Discourse on the Arts and Sciences" is that it displays the proper use of civilization in the course of condemning the abuse of civilization. Rousseau should be read, responded to, reflected on; he does not provide doctrines: he may, however, stimulate thought. Since my sophomore year in college I have found Rousseau to repay careful, recurrent reading. I am closest to the two "Discourses," <i>Emile</i>, and <i>The Social Contract</i>, and have learned much from having dealt with the last two works in a Colloquium I have given over the past five years. I think, as a brief commentary, Jacques Barzun's discussion of Rousseau in <i>Classic, Romantic, and Modern</i>, II, i-ii, pp. 18-28, is without match. It is especially valuable for driving home the point that <i>The Social Contract</i> does not concern the mode of conducting practical politics—Rousseau was neither a democrat nor a totalitarian—but the conditions under which any system of conducting practical politics can be considered legitimate. The two books by Ernst Cassirer, <i>The Question of Jean-Jacques Rousseau</i>, Peter Gay, trans., and <i>Rousseau, Kant, and Goethe</i>, Gutmann, Kristeller, and Randall, trans., are helpful, especially in locating Rousseau in the history of ideas. For those who want a check on the <i>Confessions</i>, Jean Guéhenno's <i>Jean-Jacques Rousseau</i>, 2 vols., John and Doreen Weightman, trans., is excellent, although it does not try to assess Rousseau's intellectual background in much depth, an assessment that seems to me crucial in deciding how to read Rousseau. The <i>Bibliothèque de la Pléiade</i> edition of Rousseau's <i>Oeuvres complètes</i> is excellent, presenting his works in a readable format, with sufficient critical apparatus to inform oneself of the issues but not so extensive or intrusive that it interferes with following Rousseau's argument.</div>

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<div class="anno" ID="A69">A69</div><div class="annotext">ORTEGA'S PREROGATIVES AS A CLERC EXISTED NO MORE (p. 213). An indication of the difficulty that Ortega had in acting as a clerc after he had participated in politics is found in the reaction of his fellow intellectual-turned-politician, Manuel Azaña. Thus, in the <i>Memorias intimas de Azaña</i>, edited by Joaquín Arrarás, 1939, pp. 179–180, Ortega's criticisms of partisanship in the Republic were dismissed as an attempt to appease the Jesuit backers of <i>El Sol</i> for the passage of Article 26, which closed the religious orders. <i>El Sol</i>, which had long crusaded for better lay education, was anything but a pro-Jesuit paper! Care, however, should prevent one from taking the <i>Memorias</i> to be an accurate indication of Azaña's views and character; the book was an extremely fragmentary selection from Azaña's diary, and the selection was made by an enthusiast of Franco and published just after the Civil War. It is a masterpiece of political satire, and the added Falangist caricatures show that not all of the Spanish wits were on the loyalist side.</div>

<div class="anno" ID="A76">A76</div><div class="annotext">ORTEGA TRIED TO CONVERT THE GROUP IN THE SERVICE OF THE REPUBLIC INTO A NATIONAL PARTY (p. 228). For speeches made in this effort, see "Nación y Trabajo: he aquí el tema de la Agrupación al Servicio de la República: 'Hoy no es possible un partido conservador': Elocuente brindis de Don José Ortega y Gasset en Granada," <i>El Sol</i>, February 5, 1932; and "Don José Ortega y Gasset en Oviedo: 'La política Republicana se ha de cimentar sobre dos principios: Nación y Trabajo'," <i>El Sol</i>, April 12, 1932. For articles written about a national party, see "Hacia un partido de la nación," <i>Luz</i>, January 7, 15, and 29, 1932; "Estos republicanos no son la República," <i>Luz</i>, June 16, 1932; and "Hay que reanimar a la República," <i>Luz</i>, June 18, 1932. Ortega's withdrawal from politics was first made public in "Conferencia de Don José Ortega y Gasset en la Universidad de Granada: 'Tras dos años de exorbitancia política—dice—vuelvo plenamente a la conciencia intelectual'." <i>El Sol</i>, October 9, 1932. See for all except the first and last mentioned <i>Obras</i> XI, pp. 425–450, 489–493.</div>

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<div class="anno" ID="A77">A77</div><div class="annotext">ORTEGA CONTRIBUTED TO THE GEISTESWISSENSCHAFTEN (p. 239. There is an immense literature on the human sciences, much of which is egregiously unfamiliar to American scholars. As the exposition unfolds, many works will be cited in more particular contexts. Here mention should be made of the best introduction to the subject so far written in America, <i>The Decline of the German Mandarins: The German Academic Community, 1890–1933</i>, by Fritz K. Ringer. Unfortunately, this work does not give a sympathetic treatment to the human sciences; it subjects them instead to a reductive sociological explanation. Nevertheless, until a writer comes forward who is willing to take the subject seriously, contending rigorously with the substance as well as the social source of the human sciences, Ringer's book will stand as the most useful introduction to the literature.<br /><br />

Studies of propaganda and mass communication are legion. <i>Propaganda</i> by Jacques Ellul strikes me as the best introduction to the subject, for Ellul does not shirk the difficult aspects of the matter: he shows that propaganda is an established element of everyone's way of life, that it has definite effects, some good and many bad, and that there is a tremendous, perhaps impossible, problem in reconciling the facts of propaganda with our political heritage and hopes. An earlier work that also excels as an introduction to the matter is Walter Lippmann's <i>Public Opinion</i>, which expresses greater optimism about the ability of reason to control and absorb propaganda than does Ellul's work. Both Lippmann and Ellul raise questions ultimately reflecting doubts whether the recipient of propaganda and mass communications can maintain his autonomous powers of judgment, whether the recipient can keep from being drawn into a crowd. Wilbur Schramm in his important book <i>Responsibility in Mass Communication</i> looks at the matter from the other end, asking whether open, responsible access to the means of communication can be maintained. Although this is itself a crucial question, on which there is a great deal of discussion that may be found by using Schramm's bibliography, the questions raised by Ellul and Lippmann seem to me more fundamental.<br/><br/>

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<div class="anno" ID="A82">A82</div><div class="annotext">FOR AGES THE WISE HAVE KNOWN THAT LUXURY WEAKENS THE WILL (p. 279). By reading this proposition as a statement about the effects of wealth on individual character, with the only social effects seen being certain invidious aspersions on the <i>nouveau riche</i>, one can ignore its most serious import. In such a form, the idea is quite uninteresting; but its more profound exponents have been concerned not with wealth as an individual attribute, but with wealth as a social attribute. Thus Heraclitus wished riches not on his individual enemies, but on Ephesus as a whole. The debilitative effects of wealth may develop even though the wealthiest are very active and far from debauched. What is unhealthy is not the effect of wealth on the particular individuals who hold it, but use of the category "wealth," by both rich and poor, as the basic means of making judgments of human worth. For this practice of making wealth a major standard of value, modern Western civilization has been roundly condemned by a series of critics who have not opposed the existence of material well-being, but who have rejected the common practice of using distinctions between the degree of well-being various persons enjoy as means of judging the relative worth of those persons. Thus the spiritual power of money is decried. Witness Nietzsche: "money now stands for power, glory, pre-eminence, dignity, and influence ... " (<i>The Dawn of Day</i>, #203, J. M. Kennedy, trans.); " ... what was once done 'for the love of God' is now done for the love of money, i.e. for the love of that which at present affords us the highest feeling of power and a good conscience" (<i>Ibid</i>., #204). Witness also Jacob Burckhardt: "money becomes and remains the greatest measure of things, poverty the greatest vice," in his <i>On History and Historians</i>, Harry Zohn, trans., p. 222.<br/><br/>

<div class="anno" ID="A83">A83</div><div class="annotext">IBN KHALDO'N PERCEIVED HOW POVERTY BEGAT VIRTUE •.• (p. 290). While Ortega was preparing <i>The Revolt of the Masses</i> he wrote about Ibn Khaldûn and his philosophy of history; see "Abenjaldun nos revela el secreto: pensamientos sobre Africa menor," 1928, <i>Obras</i> III, pp. 669–687. In <i>The Muqaddimah: An Introduction to History</i>, Ibn Khaldûn developed a cyclic theory of history based on the complementary social systems of the nomads and the city dwellers. On the desert a pedagogy of scarcity, a subsistence economy, maintained the elemental vital virtues of the Bedouin; he remained tough, adaptable, courageous, honest, and religious, as well as brutal, uncouth, and uncivilized. In the city a pedagogy of abundance, a luxury economy, inculcated a hedonistic view of life. The urbanite became sensitive and civilized, as well as wily, dishonest, base, and profane. The pleasures of the city always attracted the Bedouin; and once the urbanite's moral decline went too far, the city would not be able to defend itself from the desert dwellers. The Bedouins would take the city over in stages; and slowly the city would urbanize its barbarian masters, and convert them from their elemental virtues. Eventually, these new city dynasties would fall before the pressures of another wave of nomadic hordes. See <i>The Muqaddimah: An Introduction to History</i>, Franz Rosenthal, trans., especially Vol. 1, pp. 71–86, 249–310, Vol. II, pp. 117–137. Ibn Khaldûn's system was quite similar to Ortega's except that the North African's pedagogy of scarcity and pedagogy of abundance were in effect at the same time but in different places (the desert and the city), whereas Ortega's operated in the same place (Europe) but at different times (nineteenth century and twentieth century). The main difference between the two was that Ibn Khaldûn's cycle was closed, whereas Ortega saw a way to break his.</div>

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<div class="anno" ID="A84">A84</div><div class="annotext">HISTORIC DEVELOPMENTS OCCUR AS CRITICS ALTER A PEOPLE'S VIEW OF LlFE (p. 296). An example of this critical power has become manifest on a small scale in recent years: the reluctance of many talented college graduates to consider business careers. This reluctance can be traced back to critical assessments of corporate culture such as <i>The Organization Man</i> by William H. Whyte, Jr. The antipathy for business may turn out to be simply the leading edge of a much deeper shift in aspirations and expectations, one on a par with the Renaissance and Reformation or the democratic revolution.<br/><br/>

Ortega's work was an element in the ongoing effort to define the issues affecting the humane quality of life in this world. This effort, of course, has a rich history. But in the twentieth century, it has become the central concern in a great number of works, some good, some bad, and each with its unique bent. Among those pertinent to reading Ortega, I would include the following: Albert Camus, <i>L'Homme revolté</i>, 1957, as well as most of his other writings; M. Merleau-Ponty, <i>Sens et non-sens</i>, Cinquième édition, 1965; Jacques Maritain, <i>Humanisme integral</i>, Nouvelle édition, 1936; Karl Jaspers, <i>Man in the Modern Age</i>, Eden and Cedar Paul, trans., 1931, <i>Philosophy and the World</i>, 1963, and <i>The Future of Mankind</i>, E. B. Ashton, trans., 1961; Nicolas Berdyaev, <i>The Destiny of Man</i>, Natalie Duddington, trans., 1960; and so on. From such studies—and many more might be listed—agreement about the quality of life is not to be expected; rather what is happening is that the issues are being sharpened, our awareness of the connection between seemingly separate concerns is building up, and out of this awareness new issues for concerted action may emerge.</div>

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<div class="anno" ID="A91">A91</div><div class="annotext">THERE IS AN END OF CERTAIN SORTS OF IDEOLOGY (p. 331). Throughout The End of Ideology and especially in the epilogue, "The End of Ideology in the West" (p. 373), Daniel Bell makes points similar to Shklar about the condition of political theory. A difference, however, is that Shklar sought a rebirth of political theory, whereas Bell was content to see it pass, to be replaced by the techniques of administration. Bell's view, which itself can be considered as a widely shared ideology in a rigorous sense of the word, a body of ideas reflecting the interests of a group, in this case the students and practitioners of social, economic, and political technique, is not convincing. In the essays that Bell gathered under the heading "The End of Ideology," he did not really come to grips with the important subject that the phrase announced, and it is regrettable that such a weak book carried such an influential title.<br/><br/>

<div class="anno" ID="A100">A100</div><div class="annotext">YOUTH WAS THE ''CHANTAGE'' (p. 359).Ortega's polemic was against a caricature of youth, depicting it as a period with no duties—those good old college days, the best ones of your life. Consequently, in "Juventud," 1927, <i>Obras</i> Ill, pp. 463–471, Ortega was more favorable to the youth of his time, but he reminded his readers that youthfulness was an obligation to set one's course for maturity. See also En torno a Galileo, 1933, <i>Obras</i> V, pp. 46–50, for more on the missions of youth, maturity, and old age. At the end of "Pasado y porvenir para el hombre actual," 1962, <i>Obras</i> IX, p. 663, Ortega made a dramatic appeal to youth, but it was an appeal that threw great obligations on the young. According to the stages of life Ortega gave in En torno a Galileo the mature man had to contend against those both younger and older than himself in order to realize his aspirations in the world. The old man, having attempted the active fulfillment of his destiny, would instead try to incite the young to define their destinies in view of the problems that the aged had found to be important. Curiously, the difference between somewhat skeptical attitudes toward youth in The Revolt of the Masses and the very enthusiastic attitude in "The Past and Future of Present Man" may be accounted for by Ortega's own transition from maturity to old age. In keeping with his own description of the stages of life, at 45 Ortega was skeptical and at 68 he was enthusiastic. Who says that Ortega was not systematic?</div>

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<div class="anno" ID="A101">A101</div><div class="annotext">ORTEGA SPOKE OF AN INSUFFICIENCY IN EUROPEAN CULTURE (p. 364). European writers have been less moved than American and English writers by the development of anthropology to absorb the traditional, pedagogical conception of culture into a scientific one. Thus, whereas Matthew Arnold's <i>Culture and Anarchy</i> is good background for studying Ortega's position, Raymond Williams' <i>Culture and Society</i> and T. S. Eliot's <i>Notes Towards the Definition of Culture</i> are not particularly useful. The German conception of culture is fundamental to understanding Ortega. In <i>Force and Freedom</i> Jacob Burckhardt pointed out some of the public functions of culture in this sense. For the development and use of the idea by some of Ortega's contemporaries, see Georg Simmel <i>The Conflict in Modern Culture and Other Essays</i>, K. Peter Etzkorn, trans.; Max Scheler, <i>Man's Place in Nature</i>, Hans Meyerhoft trans., and <i>Probleme einer Soziologie des Wissens</i> in Scheler, <i>Gesammelte Werke</i>, Vol. 8; and Eduard Spranger, <i>Cultura y educación</i>. Two historical works are particularly useful: Bruno Snell, <i>The Discovery of the Mind</i>, and Werner Jaeger, <i>Paideia: The Ideals of Greek Culture</i>, Gilbert Highet, trans.</div>

<div class="anno" ID="A108">A108</div><div class="annotext">PRACTICAL PLANNERS WILL DISLIKE ORTEGA'S CONCEPTION OF TECHNOLOGY (p. 393). Ortega will fall under the heading of the apocalyptic rebels that Daniel Bell sees as one pole of the contemporary academic view of the post-industrial world, for Ortega was willing to see that world fall apart in a rather profound social transformation based on an ineluctable transvaluation of values. See Bell's "The Scholar Cornered: About The Reforming of General Education," <i>The American Scholar</i>, Summer 1968, pp. 401–6. For the planners' views of such issues see <i>Toward the Year 2000</i>, <i>Daedalus</i>, Summer 1967. The complacency of the practical outlook on technology and related problems is well criticized by John McDermott, "Technology: The Opiate of the Intellectuals," The <i>New York Review of Books</i>, July 31, 1969. The complacency McDermott castigates is quintessentially exemplified by Irving Kristol, "American Intellectuals and Foreign Policy," <i>Foreign Affairs</i>, July 1967.</div>

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<div class="anno" ID="A109">A109</div><div class="annotext">VICO AND THE GEISTESWISSENSCHAFTEN (p. 399). Recently an important contribution to the understanding of Vice's place in the history of thought has been made through the substantial volume <i>Giambattista Vico: An International Symposium</i>, edited by Giorgio Tagliacozzo. For Vico's works in English, see <i>The New Science of Giambattista Vico</i>, Thomas G. Bergin and Max H. Fisch, trans., and <i>On the Study Methods of Our Time</i>, Elio Gianturco, trans. In <i>Immagine e parola nella formazione dell'uomo</i>, M. T. Gentile indicates the pattern for a reinterpretation of the history of educational theory that assigns a very important place to Vico.</div>

mere fiction ....</div>

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<div class="anno" ID="A114">A114</div><div class="annotext">WERE THIS5 BOOK ON THE REFORM OF REASON, NUMEROUS CONTRIBUTORS WOULD HAVE TO BE DISCUSSED IN ADDITION TO ORTEGA (p. 424).Speculative philosophy faces forward; it is not, as Alfred North Whitehead would have had us believe, a series of footnotes to Plato, or it does not at least arise in this retrospective manner. On the contrary, speculative philosophy is our effort to solve in the future certain problems we perceive in the present; and only when we are searching for a day yet to come can we usefully write footnotes to Plato, for in this way they gain a prospective significance. Present problems and future hopes are the foundation of all historical valuations: history is the teleological science <i>par excellence</i>; and anachronism is an historical sin, not because it violates the past, but because it diminishes our sense of the future. Since history is a teleological study, historians often overturn the valuations of their predecessors, and historical figures are usually most comprehensible when they are seen, not as the genetic product of their past, but as the teleological creation of their future. The continuity of culture lies, not in the mysterious power of great works to mold their progeny in the pattern of the past, but in the magnificent capacity of great men to appropriate their patrimony in the work of the future. Since we have by no means finished appropriating the patrimony of the last hundred years, the intellectual history of this period is still indeterminate.<br/><br/>

Martin S. Dworkin has directed me to many of the writers already discussed, and a number of others whose work needs to be taken into account, some of whose books I deal with in the text or bibliographical annotations. Among these are Gustave Le Bon, Julien Benda, Alain, Léon Brunschwicg, Alexandre Kojève, Alfred Schütz, Maurice Blondel, Jacques Maritain, Gabriel Marcel, Georges Gurvitch, Heinrich Rickert, Georg Simmel, Theodor Geiger, Karl Mannheim, Werner Sombart, Wilhelm Flitner, Friedrich Meinecke, Kurt Riezler, Florian Znaniecki, Alfred Weber, Nicolai Hartmann, Otto F. Bollnow, Benedetto Croce, Giovanni Gentile, Guido de Ruggiero, R. G. Collingwood, and so on.<br/><br/></div>

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<div class="anno" ID="A116">A116</div><div class="annotext">LITERATURE ON THE REFORM OF THE CULTURAL INSTITUTIONS (p. 472). This literature is immense and can be merely introduced here. In keeping with the analysis below, it can be divided into two kinds: prescriptive and protreptic. Representative examples of the prescriptive are: F. R. Leavis, <i>Education and the University: A Sketch for an 'English School'</i>; the Committee on the Objectives of a General Education in a Free Society, <i>General Education in a Free Society</i>; Howard Mumford Jones,<i> Education and World Tragedy</i>; The American Assembly, <i>The Federal Government and Higher Education</i>; Charles G. Dobbins, ed., <i>Higher Education and the Federal Government</i>; The Commission on the Humanities, <i>Report of the Commission on the Humanities</i>; James Bryant Conant, <i>The Education of American Teachers</i>; and Daniel Bell, <i>The Reforming of General Education</i>. Leading examples of the protreptic group are, besides Ortega's <i>Misión de la universidad</i>, Robert Maynard Hutchins, <i>The Higher Learning in America</i>; Mark van Doren, <i>Liberal Education</i>; Karl Jaspers, <i>The Idea of the University</i>; Jacques Barzun, <i>Teacher in America</i>; Jacques Barzun, <i>The House of intellect</i>; C. P. Snow, <i>The Two Cultures</i>; and James A. Perkins, <i>The University in Transition</i>. These groups, of course, reflect similarities of method, not of aim.</div>