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How To Begin To Study Medieval Philosophy by Leo Strauss

To
return to the point where I left off: the belief in the superiority of one’s
own approach, or the approach of one’s time, to the approach of the past is
fatal to historical understanding. This dangerous assumption, which is
characteristic of what one may call progressivism, was avoided by what is
frequently called historicism. Whereas the progressivist believes that the
present is superior to the past, the historicist believes that all periods are
equally ‘immediate to God.’ The historicist does not want to judge the past, by
assessing the contribution of each person, for example, but rather seeks to
understand and to relate how things have actually been, ‘wie es eigentlich
gewesen ist,’ and in particular how the thought of the past has been. The
historicist has at least the intention to understand the thought of the past
exactly as it understood itself. But he is constitutionally unable to live up
to his intention. For he knows, or rather he assumes, that, generally speaking
and other things being equal, the thought of all epochs is equally true,
because every philosophy is essentially the expression of the spirit of its time.
Maimonides, for example, expressed the spirit of his time as perfectly, as, say
Herrman Cohen expressed the spirit of his time. Now, all philosophers of
the past claimed to have found the truth, and not merely the truth for
their time. The historicist, however, asserts that they are mistaken in
believing so. And he makes this assertion he basis of his interpretation. He
knows a priori that the claim of Maimonides, to teach the truth, the
truth valid for all times, is unfounded. In this most important respect, the
historicist, just as his hostile brother the progressive, believes that his
approach is superior to the approach of the thinkers of old. The historicist is
therefore compelled, by his principle if against his intention, to try to
understand the past better than it understood itself. He merely repeats, if
sometimes in a more sophisticated form, the sin for which he blames the
progressivist so severely. For, to repeat, to understand a serious teaching,
one must be seriously interested in it; one must take it seriously. But one
cannot take it seriously if one knows beforehand that it is ‘dated’. To take a
serious teaching seriously one must be willing to consider the possibility that
it is simply true. Therefore, if we are interested in an adequate understanding
of medieval philosophy, we must be willing to consider the possibility that
medieval philosophy was simply true, or, to speak less paradoxically, that it
is superior, in the most important respect, to all that we can learn from any
of the contemporary philosophers. We can understand medieval philosophy only if
we are prepared to learn something, not merely about the medieval
philosophers, but from them.
It remains true, then, that if one wants to understand a philosophy of the past,
one must approach it in a philosophical spirit, with philosophical questions:
one’s concerns must be primarily, not with what other people have thought about
the philosophical truth, but with philosophical truth itself. But if one
approaches an early thinker with a question which is not his central question,
one is bound to misinterpret, to distort his thought. Therefore, the
philosophic question with which one approaches the thought of the past must be
so broad, so comprehensive, that it permits of being narrowed down to the specific,
precise formulation of the question which the author concerned adopted. It can
be no question other than the question of the truth about the whole.
The historian of philosophy must then undergo a transformation into a
philosopher, or a conversion to philosophy, if he wants to do his job properly,
if he wants to be a competent historian of philosophy. He must require a
freedom of mind which is not too frequently met with among the ’professional’
philosophers: he must have a perfect freedom of mind as is humanly possible. No
prejudice in favor of contemporary thought, even of modern philosophy, of
modern civilization, of modern science itself, must deter him from giving the
thinkers of old the full benefit of doubt. When engaging in the study of the
philosophy of the past, he must cease to take his bearings by the modern
signposts with which he has grown familiar since his earliest childhood; he
must try to take his bearings by the signposts which guided the thinkers of
old. Those old signposts are not immediately visible: they are concealed by
heaps of dust and rubble. The most obnoxious of the rubble consists of the
superficial interpretations by modern writers, of the cheap cliches which are
offered in the textbooks and which seem to unlock by one formula the mystery of
the past. The signposts which guided the thinkers of the past must be recovered
before they can be used. Before the historian has succeeded in recovering them,
he cannot help being in a condition of utter bewilderment, of universal doubt:
he finds himself in darkness which is illuminated exclusively by his knowledge
that he knows nothing. When engaging in the study of then philosophy of the past,
he must know that he embarks on a journey whose end is completely hidden from
him: he is not likely to return to the shore of his time as the same man who
left it.
True historical understanding of medieval philosophy presupposes that the student
is willing to take seriously the claim of medieval philosophers that they teach
the truth. Now, it may be justifiably objected, is this demand not most
unreasonable? Medieval philosophy is based, generally speaking, on the natural
science of Aristote: has that science not been refuted once and for all by
Galileo, Descartes, and Newton? Medieval philosophy is based on an almost
complete unawareness of the principles of religious toleration, of the
representative system, of the rights of man, of democracy as we understand it.
It is characterized by an indifference (touching on contempt) to poetry and
history. It seems to be based on a firm belief in the verbal inspiration of the
Bible and in the Mosaic origin of the moral Law. It stands and falls with the
use of a method of Biblical interpretation as unsound as the allegoric
interpretation. In brief, medieval philosophy arouses against itself all the convictions
fostered by the most indubitable results of modern science and modern
scholarship.
Nor
is this all. Medieval philosophy may have been refuted by modern thought, an
yet it could have been an admirable and highly beneficial achievement for its time.
But even this may be questioned.
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