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Part Seven/ Interdisciplinary Perspectives

Chapter Thirty-Five

Handbook of Social Psychology, D. Gilbert, S. Fiske, & G. Lindzwey (eds.), New York: McGraw Hill. (1998)

Social Psychology and World Politics

Philip E. Tetlock

The Ohio State University

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Table of Contents

[Note] 5

[Introduction] 6

I. Standards of Evidence and Proof 9

A. Grounds for Scientific Pessimism 9

B. Grounds for Scientific Optimism 13

II. Psychological Challenges to Neorealist Rationality 18

A. Neorealism 18

B. Cognitivism 20

C. Are Psychologists Biased to Detect Bias? 31

D. Motivational processes 32

E. Placing Psychological Processes 37

F. Reprise 42

III. Psychological Challenges to Deterrence 43

A. Deterrence 43

B. Testing, Clarifying and Qualifying Deterrence 45

C. Influence Strategies 46

D. Reprise 51

IV. Nation-State Under Siege 53

A. Centrifugal and Centripetal Forces 53

B. Subnational Fragmentation 54

C. Beyond anarchy 57

D. Beyond Anarchy 59

V. Concluding Thoughts 62

Bibliography 67

[Note]

Chapter to appear in D. Gilbert, S. T. Fiske & G. Lindsay (Eds.), Handbook of social psychology (4th edition). New York: McGraw-Hill. Comments should be sent to the author at the Department of Psychology, 1885 Neil Ave., 142 Townsend Hall, The Ohio State University, Columbus OH, 43210. Portions of this chapter were completed while the author was a fellow at the Center for Advanced Study in the Behavioral Sciences. Preparation of this chapter was assisted by research grants from the MacArthur Foundation, the Institute on Global Conflict and Cooperation and the National Science Foundation as well as by a training grant from NSF to the Mershon Center at The Ohio State University. I thank Peter Suedfeld, Susan Fiske, Dan Gilbert, Ole Holsti, Bob Jervis, Peter Katzenstein, Ned Lebow, Yaacov Vertzberger, Herb Kelman, Bruce Russett, Paul t’Hart, Robyn Dawes, Randall Schweller, Rick Herrmann, Don Sylvan, Alan Fiske, and Bill Boettcher for helpful comments on earlier versions of this chapter.

[Introduction]

Does social psychology add to our understanding of war and peace among nations? For many social psychologists, the answer is an unequivocal "yes." What could be more obvious? Social psychology explores the causes of the thoughts, feelings and actions of human beings. International relationsis ultimately the product of the thoughts, feelings and actions of human beings who decide to arm or disarm nations, to engage in ethnic cleansing or to build pluralistic polities, and to treat international trade as a zero-sum or positive-sum game. It seems to follow that, insofar as social psychology achieves its explanatory goals, it cannot help but shed light on the central problems of world politics.

This reductionist syllogism, however, proves too much. By the same "logic," we could just as easily absorb psychology into neurophysiology or biochemistry into quantum mechanics. It is not enough to posit the relevance of the ostensibly more basic discipline: it is necessary to demonstrate its relevance. Moreover, demonstrating relevance is no small task. Skeptics stand ready to challenge the generalizability of laboratory findings (the external-validity controversy), to criticize social psychologists for not trying hard enough to bridge the gap between detailed case studies and abstract theory-testing (the idiographic-nomothetic controversy), to scold social psychologists for failing to respect the unbridgeable gap between descriptive and prescriptive propositions (the “is” - “ought” controversy), and to question the explanatory usefulness of "soft" micro constructs such as beliefs and values in a domain dominated by "hard" macro constraints such as determined domestic interest groups, unforgiving international creditors and lethal new weapons technologies in the hands of potential adversaries (the level-of-analysis controversy). From this standpoint, it is not at all obvious that social psychology plays an essential explanatory role in world politics. The scholarly community is well-advised to turn to other sources of theoretical guidance: for example, rational actor models derived from game theory and micro-economics (Bueno de Mesquita and Lalman, 1992; Waltz, 1979) or normative models derived from institutional economics and theories of international "regimes" (Keohane, 1984) or even Marxist analyses of center-periphery relations in the international system (Wallerstein, 1984).

There are thus two polar-opposite starting points for this chapter. One takes the relevance of social psychology as self-evident; the other takes the irrelevance of social psychology as equally self-evident. On reflection, most scholars would probably reject both starting points for staking out far too simplistic positions on the complex problem of how to weave together explanations that span the micro-macro continuum: from the individual decision-maker to small group dynamics to accountability constraints of organizations to domestic political competition to the international balance of power. Although theories grounded in these different levels of analysis do occasionally make contradictory predictions, the prevailing tendency today is to think "systemically" about the interconnections across levels of analysis and to stress the complementarity rather than the exclusivity of levels of analysis (Jervis, 1976).

In this spirit, the current chapter explores efforts over the last 27 years (the time of the last Handbook review on this topic--Etzioni, 1969) to assess the relevance of social psychology to world politics. The first section addresses the problem of setting standards of evidence and proof for causal claims in a domain where: (a) key events occur only once; (b) there are typically many plausible causal candidates; (c) experimental control is impossible and statistical control is often problematic; (d) investigators must therefore rely on speculative thought experiments concerning how events would have unfolded under alternative circumstances. Our task is further complicated by the emotionally and ideologically charged conclusions that investigators sometimes draw. When the null hypothesis is "nuclear deterrence played no role in preventing a Soviet-American war,” the routine scientific act of trading off Type I versus Type II errors becomes a defining political statement in itself. This combination of causal ambiguity, political controversy, and moral engagement makes doing "normal science" on world politics potentially hazardous to one's scientific reputation. No matter what one does, one runs the risk of standing accused of either political naiveté or of surreptitiously advancing an activist agenda or of clinging to an outmoded positivist philosophy of science that upholds the reactionary ideal of value-neutrality. The resolution to the trilemma proposed here emphasizes multi-method research programs in which investigators: (a) rigorously ground psychological propositions in political contexts; (b) self-critically practice "turnabout" thought experiments in which they ask each other whether they apply the same standards of evidence to politically opposing claims.

The second section examines the now familiar “rationality” debate as that controversy plays itself out in the study of world politics. Since Thucydides, self-styled realists have argued that world politics obeys a distinctive logic of its own. There is little leeway in the cut-throat arena of international competition for slow learners who allow personal beliefs, needs, or ideals to cloud their vision of looming threats. Accordingly, there is little need for psychological explanations. National leaders either respond in a timely manner to shifting balances of power (whether calibrated in strategic nuclear warheads or gross domestic products) or they are rapidly replaced by more realistic leaders. The choice is between rational updating of expectations in calculating Bayesian fashion and being selected out of the game in ruthless Darwinian fashion. The chapter explores: (a) why these purely systemic explanations are helpful for understanding broad historical patterns but are hardpressed to explain specific foreign policy decisions; (b) how psychological models can complement the explanatory strengths and weaknesses of systemic theories. The chapter also cautions us not to view the knowledge transfer as a one-directional flow from “basic” psychological truths to the applied international context; the macro context can set both normative and empirical boundary conditions on psychological generalizations, reminding us that response tendencies that look dysfunctional in the laboratory may be functional in many international settings as well as that response tendencies that look empirically robust in the laboratory may disappear at institutional and international levels of analysis.

The third section deals with interstate influence. Deterrence theorists--who enjoyed remarkable influence over American foreign policy in the post World War II period--take an extremely parsimonious view of the workings of diplomacy and negotiation. From this perspective, too much subtlety can be a dangerous thing when it communicates weakness and vacillation to potential aggressors. One prevails by possessing the necessary power and by clearly communicating the resolve to use it under specified circumstances. This section examines some psychologically richer conceptions of the influence process that emphasize the need to strike reasonable balances between the goals of deterrence (don't let the other side exploit you) and of reassurance (don't exacerbate the worst-case fears of the other side). It also examines evidence from multiple methods that clarifies when different influence tactics are likely to elicit desired reactions from the other side.

Thus far, the focus has been on fundamental processes--decision making and social influence--that are a safe bet to play key roles in almost every conceivable scenario for the next century. World politics, is, however, in a state of flux. The nation-state, it is frequently claimed, is under siege by both sub-national forces of ethnic fragmentation and supra-national forces of economic integration. An empirically comprehensive analysis can no longer treat the nation-state as the unchallenged decision-making unit. People may direct their loyalties elsewhere. And a theoretically balanced analysis can no longer assume that international relations are inherently anarchic and lawless. Accordingly, the fourth section of this chapter targets theories that address the powerful centrifugal and centripetal forces operating on the international system. The focus shifts to the complexities of applying theories of group identification and of distributive and procedural justice to a rapidly transforming world. Key questions for the attentive public become "Who am I?", "To what groups do I belong?", "What is a fair distribution of burdens and benefits of group membership within and across national boundaries?", and "When should we coordinate the policies of our nation with those of others to provide the international equivalent of public goods in such diverse domains as health, commerce, environmental protection, peace, and human rights?”

I. Standards of Evidence and Proof

In epistemology, as in life, it is helpful to set one's aspiration level high, but not too high. On the one hand, the early pioneers of the scientific approach to world politics were probably too optimistic (Richardson, 1960). We will never have clock-like Newtonian laws of world politics that predict the waxing and waning of great powers or the trajectories of arms races. On the other hand, post-modernist debunkers of scientific approaches have probably gone too far (Ashley, 1988). Predicting political events is not as hopeless as predicting the shape, color and size of the clouds in the sky next week. That said, however, there are good reasons for supposing that there is limited potential for discovering powerful laws that support accurate long-term forecasts (Almond and Genco, 1978; Jervis, 1992b).

A. Grounds for Scientific Pessimism

(1) the tape of history runs only once. Psychologists have grown accustomed to the inferential luxury of control groups that allow them to assess whether the hypothesized cause really made a difference. In world politics, the control groups exist--if "exist" is the right word--only in the imaginations of political observers who try to reconstruct how events would have unfolded if the hypothesized cause had taken on a different value in an alternative world. Could we have averted World War II if Churchill rather than Chamberlain had confronted Hitler at Munich in 1938? Could we have triggered World War III if Kennedy had followed his more hawkish advisors and launched air strikes against Soviet missile sites in Cuba in 1962? Would the newly industrializing countries of the 1970's and 1980's have grown even more rapidly if their governments had pursued less interventionist economic policies? Time-machines fantasies to the side, there is no way to rerun history and experimentally manipulate the presence or absence of a "key" personality, event, or policy.

Whereas experimental control is simply impossible, statistical control is possible in principle, but often deeply problematic in practice. For many categories of questions--such as the role of nuclear weapons in preserving the long peace (1945-1991) between the U.S.A. andU.S.S.R.( Gaddis, 1993)--there are too many confounding variables and too few degrees of freedom to disentangle competing casual claims. Judicious selection of comparison cases and meticulous process tracing of decision-making records can sometimes tip the scales of plausibility in these statistically indeterminate cases (George, 1980; Khong, 1991), but any causal inferences will still ultimately rest on counterfactual assumptions about what would have happened in possible worlds in which the hypothesized independent variables took on alternative values from those in the actual world. The dependence on thought experiments is not, however, adequately appreciated (Fearon, 1991) and is regarded by many as embarrassing, undercutting the validity of all casual claims about world politics. This reaction is understandable but exaggerated. To say that debates over security issues ultimately reduce to competing counterfactual scenarios is not to concede that anything goes. It is possible to articulate standards of evidence and proof even for counterfactual arguments (Tetlock & Belkin, 1996). Among other things, good counterfactual arguments should have clearly specified antecedents, consequents and connecting principles, should not rewrite massive stretches of history, should rely on connecting principles that are consistent with well-established theoretical and empirical generalizations, and should contain the seeds of testable hypotheses in the actual world.

(2) many plausible causal candidates. When scholars perform thought experiments to explore what might have happened under this or that contingency, they often discover a plethora of possibilities. Half a dozen schools of thought may stand ready to advance their preferred causal candidates and to assert confidently that they know how events would have worked out if the hypothesized causes had taken on different values. These causal candidates are drawn from the full spectrum of levels of analysis. It is instructive to observe their interplay in two actual controversies: the debates over blame for World War I and credit for the Asian "tigers."

(I) World War I. For nearly a century, scholars have debated the origins of the ironically labeled "war to end all wars." Some claims invoke "butterfly-effect" counterfactuals that, in the spirit of chaos and complexity theory, stress the role of quasi-random contingencies in shaping events (cf. Gaddis, 1993). A classic example is the precipitating event--such as the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand in June 1914--which can be easily "undone" by simply positing that the driver of the royal carriage possessed a map of Sarajevo and did not make a fateful wrong turn that gave the Serbian assassins who had just botched the job a remarkable second chance to do it right. Other claims invoke cause-effect generalizations drawn from traditional disciplines. Some psychobiographers suggest that German foreign policy would have been more prudent if Kaiser Wilhelm had not been so insecure (perhaps because of his withered arm) and determined to assert his manhood (Kohut, 1982). Students of crisis decision-making suggest that time pressure and information load promoted simplification and rigidity of thought (perhaps preventing policy-makers from generating complex compromise agreements that might have averted war--Holsti, 1972). Students of military doctrine and organization assign blame to the widespread "cult of the offensive" that led key planners to believe that the side which mobilized first possessed a decisive strategic advantage (Snyder, 1984). Students of identity-politics trace the conflict to the inherent instability of multi-ethnic empires such as Austro-Hungary and to the resulting power vacuum. Neorealist analysts of international systems point to the inherent instability of multipolar balances of power and the threat to that balance posed by the rapid growth of German industrial and military strength. In this view, World War I was a conflagration waiting to happen. The Sarajevo assassination was but one of countless sparks that could have easily set off the same underlying conflict.

(ii) The emergence of the "Asian tigers”. Almost no social scientists in the 1950's predicted that the astonishing growth rates of East Asian economies in the late 20th century. But almost all social scientists in the 1990's can generate four or five reasons for the inevitability of those same growth rates. Advocates of cultural explanations can point to the "work-ethic" character traits inculcated by Confucianist family values: hard work, in-group loyalty, and willingness to subordinate immediate gratification of individual desires to long-term group goals (Pye, 1985). Advocates of strategic trade can point to government subsidies and nurturance of "infant industries" in high-growth-potential sectors of the economy (Johnson, 1993; Tyson, 1993). Advocates of neoclassical economic theory can point to intense competition within many of these "infant industries" and to tax laws and low-inflation macro-economic policies that encourage high savings rates that, in turn, provide large pools of low-interest investment capital (Friedman, 1992). Defenders of authoritarian government as an essential transitional phase toward prosperity can point to the importance of suppressing unions and maintaining low wage rates in labor-intensive industries as an early source of comparative advantage in international trade.

What do World War I and the economic miracles of East Asia have in common? In each case, we find a long list of distinct but interrelated causal candidates, each of which rests on difficult-to-test assumptions about what would have had to be different to alter the observed outcome. In each case, an event that virtually no one predicted appears, with benefit of theoretical hindsight, hopelessly over-determined (Fischhoff, 1975; Hawkins & Hastie, 1990). Finally, in each case, people often find it very difficult to recapture the sense of uncertainty that prevailed before the historical outcome was known. We exaggerate the degree to which we “knew it all along.” Our capacity to assimilate known outcomes from the past to favorite causal schemata vastly exceeds our ability to predict unknown outcomes in the future (cf. Dawes, 1993).

(3) the interrelatedness of potential causes. In the ideal thought experiment, we manipulate one cause at a time and gauge its impact. Part of what makes "assassination" counterfactuals so popular among chaos and complexity theorists is that it seems so easy to rewrite one or two trivial details of history, to hold all else constant, and to observe big effects. All we need to do is to suppose that Lee Harvey Oswald was not quite so good a marksman and most of us share the intuition that we would have a rather different list of American presidents from 1963 onward. The thought experiment seems to illustrate the "sensitive dependence on initial conditions" of major events (McCloskey, 1991).

Thought experiments are, however, more problematic than this laboratory model suggests. Causes rarely exist in isolation from each other. When we tamper with one potential cause, we almost always alter a host of others, thereby creating confounding variables (Jervis, 1996). For instance, if we counterfactually posit slower German growth rates in pre-1914 Europe, we simultaneously change the entire geopolitical calculus. Perhaps Britain would no longer perceive Germany as the power most likely to achieve European hegemony but rather would see France as the primary threat (as in Napoleonic times) or Russia (as after 1945). A shift in the domestic political or economic condition of one state may have far-reaching ramifications on alliance structures. Game theorists have been most explicit in modeling these sorts of "ripple effects" by mapping out the best responses available to other players in the event that one player (for whatever reason) deviates from the equilibrium path (Bueno de Mesquita, 1996; Weingast, 1996). To reach determinate counterfactual conclusions, however, these game theorists must make heroic assumptions both about the rationality of the players and about the assumptions that the players themselves make about each other's rationality (necessary for identifying equilibrium strategies via backward induction).

If world politics is best represented as systems embedded within systems and if it is generally inappropriate even to imagine manipulatingan hypothesized cause in isolation from the causal network within which it is embedded, we confront an extraordinary dilemma. For the more densely interconnected the potential causes, the less possible it becomes to trace the impact of any change even after the fact, less still to predict it before the fact. From this standpoint, the most popular research strategy for disentangling cause and effect in world politics--the comparative case method--is deeply, perhaps fatally, flawed. Searching for several cases that are similar except for one "independent variable" is systematically misleading. Not only is there no random assignment to conditions, there is the problem of path-dependence (Jervis, 1996). Our location in the historical flow of events is consequential. What we do now is shaped by what happened earlier. These earlier branching-point events have taught us particular lessons and values. For example, when we compare the consequences of pursuing deterrence versus reassurance policies (a popular comparison in political psychology), we need to factor into our intuitive causal model the variety of reasons why people found it reasonable to resort to deterrence in certain cases but to reassurance in others. Deterrence may be an effect as well as a cause--a sign in itself of how far the relationship had already deteriorated. Interpretive controversies of this sort surface frequently in security debates.

The strong form of the "system-effects” argument leaves us teetering on the brink of policy nihilism, with no way to tell what might have happened if we had listened to one or the other faction in a policy dispute. Of course, the strong form of the argument may be too strong. In the cosmic matrix of causal interconnections, most entries may be close to zero (cf. Pattee, 1973), in which case the indeterminacy problems are less acute. The only sure fact is that no one knows for sure. Firm opinions must be based on metaphysical guesses.

(4) counterfactuals are often politically controversial. A fourth factor complicates efforts to make sense of world politics. Most debates over counterfactual scenarios engage partisan political motives. For instance, defenders of the Reagan defense build-up of the 1980's argued that, without it, the Soviet political establishment would never have accepted as radically a reformist leader as Gorbachev--a leader whose policies of glasnost and perestroika "led to" the disintegration of the Soviet state (Pipes, 1993). Critics of the Reagan administration argued that the defense build-up was either an irrelevancy or an impediment to Soviet reformers and--in either case--an egregious waste of national treasure (Garthoff, 1994; Lebow & Stein, 1994). For our purposes, the key point is this: one can neither sensibly defend nor compellingly criticize a policy initiative without making assumptions about how things would have worked out differently if the government had done something else.

Short of adopting a stance of radical agnosticism toward all policy initiatives, something few social scientists are willing to do, there is no avoiding the daunting task of setting thresholds of proof for counterfactual thought exercises. One must judge the likelihood of making Type I versus Type II errors (e.g., concluding that deterrence works when it does not versus concluding that it does not work when it does) and the risks associated with each error, all the while under partisan pressure to tip the scales of plausibility in one direction or another.

(5) too much is at stake to confess ignorance. Putting political pressures aside, human beings find it dissonant to acknowledge that they are making extraordinarily consequential decisions with little knowledge of the likely consequences. Insofar as people need to believe that they are masters of their destiny or, at least, that they live in a comprehensible and predictable world, they will bolster their confidence in preferred counterfactual scenarios and downplay rival scenarios. They will also tend to dismiss indeterminacy arguments as nihilistic carping. Indeed, they will find it aversive to be reminded of the soft counterfactual underbelly of their belief systems. Who wants to be told that deeply held convictions rest on speculative assumptions about what might have happened in imaginary worlds?

In sum, there are powerful temptations--cognitive, emotional, and political--to claim to know more than one does or even can about world politics. Part of the problem is how few causal claims can withstand systematic scientific scrutiny. There are usually many plausible accounts and imperfect means of gauging their relative credibility. Part of the problem is the magnitude of the policy consequences and the awkwardness of confessing how little one knows when so much is at stake. The scholarly study of world politics seems to require a superhuman capacity to tolerate ambiguity and to resist the siren calls of moral-political advocacy.

This argument might be mistaken for a counsel of despair, perhaps even a postmodernist critique of the quest for causal laws in both social psychology and history (cf. Gergen, 1978). It is one matter, however, to acknowledge candidly the difficulty of the task and quite another to abandon it altogether and replace it with a hermeneutic agenda. Awareness of epistemological traps and political temptations helps to calibrate realistic aspiration levels for research. The classic goal--well-defined covering laws that allow us to deduce past events and to predict future ones with great accuracy (Hempel,1965)-- is outside our reach now and perhaps forever. A more modest goal--cumulative multi-method research programs that allow us to identify recurring patterns in the past and to anticipate some future events with greater than chance accuracy--is within our reach. Indeed, the proof is the research literature.

B. Grounds for Scientific Optimism

Given the scale of the indeterminacy problems in world politics, how can researchers build a persuasive case for a particular hypothesis? This chapter argues for a three-pronged strategy in which: a) researchers draw upon middle-range theoretical generalizations that rest on cumulative empirical work in other fields as sources of causal hypotheses; b) researchers make good-faith (reasonably value-neutral) efforts to test the applicability of these generalizations to various facets of world politics; c) researchers remain vigilant to the possibility that the transfer of knowledge is not one-directional and that "basic" psychological findings may have to be seriously qualified or even reversed by political, economic, and cultural moderator variables.

With respect to the first requirement, the wide assortment of "basic-process" chapters in the volume should serve as evidence that cumulative bodies of work exist on such relevant topics as judgment and choice (Dawes, Handbook Chapter) bargaining and negotiation (Pruitt, Handbook Chapter) social identity maintenance and intergroup conflict (Brewer & Brown, Handbook Chapter) and perceptions of fairness within and across group boundaries (Tyler & Smith, Handbook Chapter). Prima facie relevance is not enough, however, to clinch the case. Thoughtful theorists deny the relevance of laboratory studies on one or another of the following grounds: a) selection arguments (to make it into high-level political roles, one must be a lot more mature and rational than the typical sophomore participant in laboratory studies); b) motivational arguments (policy-makers are especially motivated to make rational decisions because the stakes are so high); c) accountability-constraint arguments (even if policy-makers were prone to the same effects as laboratory participants, they work within complex institutional systems of checks and balances that prevent those effects from being translated into policy).

Each argument raises subtle issues concerning boundary conditions for experimental findings. Here the key point is the necessity of obtaining independent evidence that the hypothesized psychological processes are indeed operating in the political world. The crucial question becomes one of multi-method convergence: Do we obtain similar functional relationships between the conceptual independent and dependent variables studied in laboratory and real-world settings? Consider three examples:

1) laboratory studies have revealed that people tend to shift into "simpler" modes of cognitive processing as information load, time pressure, and threat exceed some optimal point (Gilbert, 1989; Kruglanski & Freund, 1983; Streufert and Streufert, 1978; Svenson and Maules, 1994). Archival researchers, relying on content analyses of political statements, have concluded that similar processes have occurred in numerous international crises (Raphael, 1982; Suedfeld, 1992a; Wallace & Suedfeld, 1992; Walker & Watson, 1989, 1994).

2) laboratory studies of bargaining and influence reveal that threats often either do not work as intended or even backfire. One recurring theme is the relative effectiveness of some version of the tit-for-tat strategy that protects one from exploitation but leaves the door open for reconciliation. Qualitative case studies and quantitative event-analytic studies of international relations often converge on strikingly similar conclusions (Leng, 1993), as do computer simulations that pit all logical combinations of strategies against each other (Axelrod, 1984).

3) laboratory studies of judgmental biases reveal a host of mistakes that people apparently make in drawing causal attributions, estimating relationships among variables, revising views in response to new evidence, and attaching confidence to their judgments (Fiske & Taylor, 1991; Nisbett & Ross, 1980). Many case studies of the foreign policy decision-making process suggest that policy-makers fall prey to the same effects (Jervis, 1976; Lebow, 1981; Snyder, 1984; Vertzberger, 1986; Wirtz, 1991).

When it arises, and it does frequently in this chapter, multi-method convergence is generally taken as an encouraging sign. The working assumption is that theoretical generalizations that pass radically different tests stand a better chance of capturing robust regularities than do generalizations whose support is confined to one genre of research. Controlled experiments reassure us of the internal validity of the original causal claim whereas field methods--case studies, content analysis, event analysis, codifying expert judgment--reassure us that the hypothesized process holds up in the hurly-burly of world politics.

There is much to recommend this methodological division of labor and I have indeed endorsed it elsewhere (Tetlock, 1983). But there are good reasons for caution. First, convergence is sometimes spurious. Field researchers may conclude that policy-making that only superficially resembles a laboratory analog is the product of the same underlying process. For instance, policy makers may appear to rely on crude rules of thumb in drawing lessons from history (a finding consistent with laboratory work on analogical reasoning -- Gilovich, 1981). Policy makers may, however, actually possess a farmore subtle grasp of the situation. They may be using simple historical arguments such as "no more Munichs" or "no more Vietnams" to achieve impression management goals: to rally support from wavering political constituencies and to pre-empt potential critics. In a similar vein, policy makers may not be unaware of value trade-offs or of contradictory evidence but may find it politically useful to refuse to acknowledge them. Distinguishing perceptual-cognitive from impression management explanations is often a tricky judgment call even in controlled laboratory settings (Tetlock & Manstead, 1985); the indeterminacy problems are obviously more severe in historical case studies.

Political psychologists, nonetheless, frequently make such judgments. Holsti (1989) made such judgments in assessing whether crisis-induced stress really impairs policy reasoning or whether policy makers are trying to influence the calculations of other national leaders by persuading them that such impairment has occurred (see Schelling, 1966, on the rationality of occasionally appearing irrational). Stein (1991) made similar sorts of judgments in assessing whether leaders of states that challenge deterrence are allowing motives and wishes to inflate the perceived odds of success or whether they are trying to intimidate the status quo power by persuading it that the challengers have no choice (given their public commitments) but to persevere with confrontational policies. Fischhoff (1991) and Sagan (1985) grappled with a similar dilemma in the domain of nuclear command, control and communications systems. How can we assess whether decision makers responsible for operating these systems overestimate their ability to simultaneously avoid Type I errors (falsely conclude that an attack is occurring) and Type II errors (falsely conclude that an attack is not occurring) or whether these decision makers are self-consciously promoting a functional fiction that the system is in sound working order (so that the public will not panic and that adversaries will not test the system) . In short, it is no simple matter to distinguish true from spurious multi-method convergence.

There is also a second reason for caution. Multimethod divergence sometimes occurs. It is easy to identify real-world exceptions to most laboratory-based generalizations. Decision makers sometimes draw flexible, multidimensional lessons from history (Neustadt and May, 1986), confront trade-offs even in highly stressful situations (Maoz, 1981), and display a willingness to change their minds in response to new evidence (Breslauer & Tetlock, 1991). Multimethod divergence of this sort does not, of course, mean that one set of findings must be right and the other wrong. When different research methods yield different results, there are lots of possible explanations. How people think may depend on a variety of boundary conditions: individual differences in intellectual capacity, cognitive style, and interpersonal style, cultural background, and institutional variables such as the nature of the decision making task, small groups processes and role and accountability relationships. Each class of variables--by itself or in combination with others--may explain inconsistencies in the evidence.

Finally, a third cautionary comment merits mention. There is inevitably an element of subjectivity in judgments of multimethod convergence and divergence which creates potential for both the appearance and reality of political bias. There are no hard and fast rules that specify how quickly one should conclude that "convergence is specious" or "divergence constitutes falsification." When the hypotheses at stake are as politically consequential as "conservatives are more prone to cognitive biases than liberals” (Kanwisher, 1989) or "deterrence typically does not work" (White, 1984), the stage is set for epistemic mischief on an epic scale. Most social scientists are well known to be liberal in their political sympathies (Lipsett, 1982) and the suspicion inevitably arises -- justifiably or not -- that they are selectively raising and lowering standards of evidence to favor certain hypotheses (cf. Tetlock, 1994). Under these inauspicious circumstances, the scholarly community can best protect its reputation for reasonably fair and value-neutral scholarship by affirming its commitment to a level field for hypothesis-testing. "Turnabout” thought experiments should become routine mental exercises in the peer review process in which skeptics are encouraged to make the case, for example, that "if liberals instead of conservatives displayed a certain judgmental tendency, we would have been more reluctant to label the tendency a bias" or "if the predictions of the conflict-spiral rather than deterrence theory had been refuted, we would have more vigorously challenged the logical adequacy of the test". The key questions become: Have the rules of evidence been "stacked against" unpopular points of view? Do we require exceptionally strong evidence to challenge popular hypotheses and accept remarkably weak evidence to reject unpopular hypotheses? Do we, in brief, fall prey to the same theory-driven biases of thought of which we accuse others? And what scientific accountability mechanisms can we create to check such biases and adjudicate claims of epistemic double standards in so methodologically eclectic a field as world politics?

Notwithstanding these qualifications, multi-method triangulation still provides the soundest basis for causal claims in world politics. In the following sections, I shall be explicit about the evidential basis for various claims, giving extended attention to those that enjoy multi-method support.

CHAPTER II: THE NEO‑PLATONIC ARISTOTELIANS OF PERSIA

With the Arab conquest of Persia, a new era begins in the history of Persian thought. But the warlike sons of sandy Arabia whose swords terminated, at Nahāwand, the political independence of this ancient people, could hardly touch the intellectual freedom of the converted Zoroastrian.

The political revolution brought about by the Arab conquest marks the beginning of interaction between the Aryan and the Semitic, and we find that the Persian, though he lets the surface of his life become largely semitised, quietly converts Islam to his own Aryan habits of thought. In the West the sober Hellenic intellect interpreted another Semitic religion ‑Christianity; and the results of interpretation in both cases are strikingly similar. In each case the‑ aim of the interpreting intellect is to soften the extreme rigidity of an absolute law imposed on the individual from without; in one word it is an endeavour to internalise the external. This process of transformation began with the study of Greek thought which, though combined with other causes, hindered the growth of native speculation, yet marked a transition from the purely objective attitude of Pre‑Islamic Persian Philosophy to the subjective attitude of later thinkers. It is, I believe, largely due to the influence of foreign thought that the old monistic tendency when it reasserted itself about the end of the 8th century, assumed a much more spiritual aspect; and, in its latter development, revivified and spiritualised the old Iranian dualism of Light and Darkness. The fact, therefore, that Greek thought roused into fresh life the subtle Persian intellect, and largely contributed to, and was finally assimilated by the general course of intellectual evolution in Persia, justifies us in briefly running over, even though at the risk of repetition, the systems of the Persian Neo‑Platonists who, as such, deserve very little attention in a history of purely Persian thought.

It must, however, be remembered that Greek wisdom flowed towards the Moslem east through Harrān and Syria. The Syrians took up the latest Greek speculation i.e. Neo‑Platonism and transmitted to the Moslem what they believed to be the real philosophy of Artistotle. It is surprising that Mohammedan Philosophers, Arabs as well as Persians, continued wrangling over what they believed to be, the real teaching of Aristotle and Plato, and it never occurred to them that for a thorough comprehension of their Philosophies, the knowledge of Greek language was absolutely necessary. So great was their, ignorance that an epitomised translation, of the Enneeads of Plotinus was accepted as āTheology of Aristotle.ā It took them centuries to arrive at. a clear conception of the two great masters of Greek thought and it is doubtful whether they ever completely understood them. Avicenna is certainly clearer and more original than Al‑Fārābī and Ibn Maskawaih; and the Andelusian Averroes, though he is nearer to Aristotle than any of his predecessors, is yet far from a complete grasp of Aristotle's Philosophy. It would, however, be unjust to accuse them of servile imitation. The history of their speculation is one continuous attempt to wade through a hopeless mass of absurdities that careless translators of Greek Philosophy had introduced. They had largely to rethink the Philosophies of Aristotle and Plato. Their commentaries constitute, so to speak, an effort at discovery, not exposition. The very circumstances which left them no time to think out independent systems of thought, point to a subtle mind, unfortunately cabined and cribbed by a heap of obstructing nonsense that patient industry had gradually to eliminate, and thus to window out truth from falsehood. with these preliminary remarks we proceed to consider Persian students of Greek Philosophy individually.

1. IBN MASKAWAIH[1] (d. 1030)

Passing over the names of Saraḵẖsīī[2] , Fārābī who was a Turk, and the Physician Rāzī (d. 932 A.D.) who true to his Persian habits of thought, looked upon light as the first creation, and admitted the eternity of matter, space and time, we come to the illustrious name of Abu 'Ali Muhammad Ibn Muhammad Ibn Ya'qub, commonly known as Ibn Maskawaih ‑the treasurer of the Buwaihid Sultan' Adaduddaula ‑one of the most eminent theistic thinkers, physicians, moralists and historians of Persia. I give below a brief account of his system from his well‑known work Al Fauz al‑Asg̱ẖar, published in Beirët.

1. The existence of the ultimate principle

Here Ibn Maskawaih follows Aristotle, and reproduces his argument based on the fact of physical motion. All bodies have the inseparable property of motion which covers all form of change, and does not proceed from the nature of bodies themselves. Motion, therefore, demands an external source of prime mover. The supposition that motion may constitute the very essence of bodies, is contradicted by experience. Man, for instance, has the power of free movement; but, on the supposition, different parts of his body must continue to move even after they are severed from one another. The series of moving causes, therefore, must stop at a cause which, itself immovable, moves everything else. The immobility of the Primal cause is essential; for the supposition of motion in the Primal cause would necessitate infinite regress, which is absurd.

The immovable mover is one. A multiplicity of original movers must imply something common in their nature, so that they might be brought under the same category. It must also imply some point of difference in order to distinguish them from each other. But this partial identity and difference necessitate composition in their respective essences; and composition, being a form of motion, cannot, as we have shown, exist in the first cause of motion. The prime mover again is eternal and immaterial. Since transition from non‑existence to existence is a form of motion; and since matter is always subject to some kind of motion, it follows that a thing which is not eternal, or is, in any way, associated with matter, must be in motion.

2. The Knowledge of the Ultimate

All human knowledge begins from sensations which are gradually transformed into ' perceptions. The earlier stages of intellection are completely con. ditioned by the presence of external reality. But the progress of knowledge means to be able to think without being conditioned by matter. Thought begins with matter, but its object is to gradually free itself from the primary condition of its own possibility. A higher stage, therefore, is reached in imagination ‑ the power to reproduce and retain in the mind the copy or image of a thing without reference to the external objectivity of the thing itself. In the formation of concepts thought reaches a still higher stage in point of freedom from materiality though the concept, in so far as it is the result of comparison and assimilation of percepts, cannot he regarded as having completely freed itself from the gross cause of sensations. But the fact that conception is based on perception, should not lead us to ignore the great difference between the nature of the concept and the percept, The individual (percept) is undergoing constant change which affects the character of the knowledge founded on mere perception. The knowledge of individuals, therefore, lacks the element of permanence. The universal (concept), on the other hand, is not affected by the law of change. Individuals change; the universal remains intact. It is the essence of matter to submit to the law of change: the freer a thing is from matter, the less liable it is to change. God, therefore, being absolutely free from matter, is absolutely changeless; and it is His complete' freedom from materiality that makes our conception of Him difficult.or impossible. The object of all Philosophical training is to develop the power of āideationā or contemplation on pure concepts, in order that constant practice might make possible the conception of the absolutely immaterial.

3. How the one creates the many

In this connection it is necessary, for the sake of clearness, to divide Ibn Maskcawaih's investigations into two parts:‑

(a) That the ultimate agent or cause created the Universe out of nothing. Materialists, he says, hold the eternity of matter, and attribute form to the creative activity of God. It is, however, admitted that when matter passes from one form into another form, the previous form becomes absolutely non. existent. For if it does not become absolutely non-existent, it must either pass off into some other body, or continue to exist in the same body. The first alternative is contradicted by every‑day experience‑ If we transform a ball of wax into a solid square, the original rotundity of the ball does not pass off into some other body. The second alternative is also impossible; for it would necessitate the conclusion that two contradictory forms e.g., circularity and length, can exist in the same body. It, therefore, follows that the original form passes into absolute non‑existence, when the new form comes into being. This argument proves conclusively that, attributes i. e. form, colour etc., come into being from pure nothing. In order to understand that the substance is also non‑eternal like the attribute, we should grasp the truth of the following propositions:

1. The analysis of matter results in a number of different elements, the diversity of which is reduced to one simple element.

2. Form and matter are inseparable: no change in matter can annihilate form.

From these two propositions, Ibn Maskawaih concludes that the substance had a beginning in time. Matter like form must have begun to exist; since the eternity of matter necessitates the eternity of form which, as we have seen, cannot be regarded as eternal.

(b) The process of creation. What is the cause of this immense diversity which meets us on all sides? How could the many be created by one? When, says the Philosopher, one cause produces a number of different effects, their multiplicity may depend on any of the following reasons:

1. The cause may have various powers. Man, for instance, being a combination of various elements and powers. may be the cause of various actions.

2. The cause may use various means to produce a variety of effects.,

3. The cause may work upon a variety of material.

None of these propositions can be true of the nature of the ultimate cause‑God. That he possesses various powers, distinct from one another, is manifestly absurd; since his nature does not admit of composition. If he is supposed to have employed different means to produce diversity. who is the creator of these means? If these means are due to the creative agency of some cause other than the ultimate cause, there would be a plurality of ultimate causes. If, on the other hand, the Ultimate Cause himself created these means, he must have required other means to create these means. The third proposition is also inadmissible as a conception of the creative act. The many cannot flow from the causal action of one agent. It, therefore, follows that we have only one way out of the difficulty ‑ that the ultimate cause created only one thing which led to the creation of another. Ibn Maskawaih here enumerates the usual Neo‑Platonic emanations gradually growing grosser and grosser until we reach the primordial elements, which combine and recombine to evolve higher and higher forms of life. Shiblī thus sums up Ibn Maskawaih's theory of evolution[3] :

The combination of primary substances produced the mineral kingdom, the lowest form of life. A higher stage of evolution is reached in the vegetable kingdom. The first to appear is spontaneous grass then plants and various kinds of trees, some of which touch the border‑land of animal kingdom, in so far as they manifest certain animal characteristics. Intermediary between the vegetable kingdom and the animal kingdom there is a certain form of life which is neither animal nor vegetable, but shares the characteristics of both (e.g., coral). The first step beyond this intermediary stage of life, is the development of the power of movement, and the sense of touch in tiny worms which crawl upon the earth. The sense of touch, owing to the process of differentiation, develops other forms of sense, until we reach the plane of higher animals in which intelligence begins to manifest itself in an ascending scale. Humanity is touched in the ape which undergoes further development, and gradually develops erect stature and power of understanding similar to man. Here animality ends and humanity begins.”

4. The Soul

In order to understand whether the soul has an independent existence, we should examine the nature of human knowledge. It is the essential property of matter that it cannot assume two different forms simultaneously. To transform a silver spoon into a silver glass, it is necessary that the spoon‑form as such should cease to exist. This property is common to all bodies, and body that lacks it cannot be regarded as a body. Now when we examine the nature of perception, we see that there is a principle in man which, in so far as it is able to know more than one thing at a time, can assume, so to say, many different forms simultaneously. This principle cannot be matter, since it lacks the fundamental property of matter. The essense of the soul consists in the power of perceiving a number of objects at one and the same moment of time. But it may be objected that the soul‑principle may be either material in its essence, or a function of matter. There are, however, reasons to show that the soul cannot be a function of matter.

(a) A thing which assumes different forms and states, cannot itself be one of these forms and states. A body which receives different colours should be, in its own nature, colourless. The soul, in its perception of external objects, assumes, as it were, various forms and states; it, therefore, cannot be regarded as one of those forms. Ibn Maskawaih seems to give no countenance to the contemporary Faculty‑ Psychology; to him different mental states are various transformations of the soul itself.

b) The attributes are constantly changing; there must be beyond the sphere of change, some permanent substratum which is the foundation of personal identity.

Having shown that the soul cannot be regarded as a function of matter, Ibn Maskawaih proceeds to prove that it is essentially immaterial. Some of his arguments may be noticed:

1. The senses, after they have perceived a strong stimulus, cannot, for a certain amount of time, perceive a weaker stimulus. It is, however, quite different with the mental act of cognition.

2. When we reflect on an abstruse subject, we endeavour to completely shut our eyes to the objects around us, which ‑we regard as so many hindrances in the way of spiritual activity. If the soul is material in its essence, it need not., in order to secure unimpeded activity, escape from the world of matter.

3. The perception of a strong stimulus weakens and sometimes injures the sense. The intellect, on the other hand, grows in strength with the knowledge of ideas and general notions.

4. Physical weakness due to old age, does not affect mental vigour.

5. The soul can conceive certain propositions which have no connection with the sense‑data. The senses, for instance, cannot perceive. that two contradictories cannot exist together.

6. There is a certain power in us which rules over physical organs, corrects sense‑errors, and unifies all knowledge. This unifying principle which reflects over the, material brought before it through the science‑channel, and, weighing the evidence of each sense,. decides the character of rival statements, must itself stand above the. sphere of matter.

The combined force of these considerations, says Ibn Maskawaih, conclusively establishes the truth of the proposition‑that the soul is essentially immaterial. The immateriality of the soul signifies its immortality; since mortality is a characteristic of the material.

2. AVICENNA (d. 1037)

Among the early Persian Philosophers, Avicenna alone attempted to construct his own system of thought. His work, called “Eastern Philosophy”, is still extant; and there has also come down to us a fragment[4] in which the Philosopher has expressed his views on the universal operation of the force of love in nature. It is something like the contour of a system, and it is quite probable that Ideas expressed therein were afterwards fully worked out.

Avicenna defines “Love” as the appreciation of Beauty, and from the standpoint of this definition he explains that there are three categories of being:

1. Things that are at the highest point of perfection.

2. Things that are at the lowest point of perfection.

3. Things that stand between the two poles of perfection. But the third category has no real existence; since there are things that have already attained the acme of perfection, and there are others still progressing towards perfection. This striving for the ideal is love's movement towards beauty which, according to Avicenna, is identical with perfection. Beneath the visible evolution of forms is the force of love which actualises all striving, movement, progress. Things are so constituted that they hate non‑existence, and love the joy of individuality in various forms. The indeterminate matter, dead in itself, assumes, or more properly, is made to asume by the inner force of love, various forms, and rises higher and higher in the scale of beauty. The operation of this ultimate force, in the physical plane, can be thus indicated:

1. Inanimate objects are combinations of form, matter and quality. Owing to the working of this mysterious power, quality sticks to its subject or substance; and form embraces indeterminate matter which, impelled by the mighty force of love, rises from fomī to form.

2. The tendency of the force of love is to centralise itself In the vegetable kindom, it attains a higher degree of unity or centralisation; though the soul still lacks that unity of action which it attains afterwards. The processes of the vegetative soul are

(a) Assimilation.

(b) Growth.

(c) Reproduction.

These processes, however, are nothing more than so many manifestations of love. Assimilation indicates attraction and transformation of what is external into what is internal. Growth is love of achieving more and more harmony of parts; and reproduction means perpetuation of the kind, which is only another phase of love.

3. In the animal kingdom, the various operations of the force of love are still more unified. It does preserve the vegetable instinct of acting in different directions; but there is also the development of temperament which is a step towards more unified activity. In man this tendency towards unification manifests itself in self‑consciousness. The same force of ānatural or constitutional love,ā is working in the life of beings higher than man. All things are moving towards the first Beloved the Eternal Beauty. The worth of a thing is decided by its nearness to, or distance from, this ultimate principle.

As a physician. however, Avicenna is especially interested in the nature of the Soul. In his times, moreover, the doctrine of metempsychosis was gating more and more popular. He, therefore, discusses the nature of the soul, with a view to show the falsity of this doctrine. It is difficult, he says, to define the soul; since it manifest., different powers and tendencies in different planes of being. His view of the various powers of the soul can be thus represented:

1. Manifestation as unconscious activity

(b) Working in one direction and securing uniformity of action‑growth of temperament.

2. Manifestation as conscious activity

(a) As directed to more than one object

(b) As directed to one object ‑ The soul of the spheres which continue in one uniform motion.

In his fragment on “Nafs” (soul) Avicenna endeavours to show that a material accompaniment is not necessary to the soul. It is not through the instrumentality of the body, or some power of the body, that the soul conceives or imagines; since if the soul necessarily requires a physical medium in conceiving other things, it must require a different body in order to conceive the body attached to itself. Moreover, the fact that the soul is immediately self conscious‑ conscious of itself through itself‑conclusively shows that in its essence the soul is quite independent of any physical accompaniment. The doctrine of metempsychosis implies, also, individual Pre‑existence. But supposing that the soul did exist before the body, it must have existed either as one or as many, The multiplicity of bodies is due to the multiplicity of material forms, and does not indicate the multiplicity of souls. On the other hand, if it existed as one, the ignorance or knowledge of A must mean the ignorance or knowledge of B; since the soul is one in both. These categories, therefore, cannot be applied to the soul. The truth is, says Avicenna, that body and soul are contiguous to each other, but quite opposite in their respective essences. The disintegration of the body does not necessitate the annihilation of the soul. Dissolution or decay is a property of compound, and not of simple, indivisible, ideal substances. Avicenna, then denies pre‑existence, and endeavors to show the possibility of disembodied conscious life beyond the grave.

We have run over the work of the early Persian Neo‑Platonists among whom, as we have seen, Avicenna alone learned to think for himself. Of the generations of his disciples ‑Behmenyarl. Abu'l‑Ma'mëm, of Isfahān, Ma'sumī Ab u'l‑'Abbās, Ibn Tāhir[5] ‑ who carried on their master's Philosophy, we need not speak. So powerful was the spell of Avicenna's personality that even long after it had been removed, any amplification or modification of his views was considered to be an unpardonable crime. The old Iranian idea of the dualism of Light and Darkness does not act as a determining factor in the progress of Neo‑Platonic ideas in Persia, which borrowed independent life for a time, and eventually merged their separate existence in the general current of Persian speculation. They are therefore, connected with the course of indigenous thought only in so far as they contributed to the strength and expansion of that monistic tendency, which manifested itself early in the Church of Zoroaster; and, though for a time hindered by the theological controversies of Islām, burst out with redoubled force in later times to extend its titanic grasp to all the previous intellectual achievements of the land of its birth.

NOTES AND REFERENCES

[1] Dr. Boer, in the Philosophy of Islām, gives a full. Account of the Philsophy of Al- Fārābī and Avicenna: but his account of Ibn Maskawaih' Philsosphy is restricted to the Ethical teaching of that Philosopher. I have given here his metaphysical views which are decidedly more systematic than those of Al-Fārābī. Instead of repeating Avicenna's Neo Platonism I have briefly stated what I believe to be his original contribution to the thought of his country.

[2] Sarakhsī died in 899 A.D. He was a disciple of the Arabian Philosopher Al-Kindī. His works, unfortunately have not reached us.

[3] Maulāna Shiblī 'Ilm al Kalām, p. 141. (Haidarābād).

[4] This fragment on love is preserved in the collected works of Avicenna in the British Museum Library and has been edited by N.A.F. Mehren. (Leiden, 1894).

[5] Al‑Baihāqī; far. 28a et seqq.

CHAPTER II: THE NEO‑PLATONIC ARISTOTELIANS OF PERSIA

With the Arab conquest of Persia, a new era begins in the history of Persian thought. But the warlike sons of sandy Arabia whose swords terminated, at Nahāwand, the political independence of this ancient people, could hardly touch the intellectual freedom of the converted Zoroastrian.

The political revolution brought about by the Arab conquest marks the beginning of interaction between the Aryan and the Semitic, and we find that the Persian, though he lets the surface of his life become largely semitised, quietly converts Islam to his own Aryan habits of thought. In the West the sober Hellenic intellect interpreted another Semitic religion ‑Christianity; and the results of interpretation in both cases are strikingly similar. In each case the‑ aim of the interpreting intellect is to soften the extreme rigidity of an absolute law imposed on the individual from without; in one word it is an endeavour to internalise the external. This process of transformation began with the study of Greek thought which, though combined with other causes, hindered the growth of native speculation, yet marked a transition from the purely objective attitude of Pre‑Islamic Persian Philosophy to the subjective attitude of later thinkers. It is, I believe, largely due to the influence of foreign thought that the old monistic tendency when it reasserted itself about the end of the 8th century, assumed a much more spiritual aspect; and, in its latter development, revivified and spiritualised the old Iranian dualism of Light and Darkness. The fact, therefore, that Greek thought roused into fresh life the subtle Persian intellect, and largely contributed to, and was finally assimilated by the general course of intellectual evolution in Persia, justifies us in briefly running over, even though at the risk of repetition, the systems of the Persian Neo‑Platonists who, as such, deserve very little attention in a history of purely Persian thought.

It must, however, be remembered that Greek wisdom flowed towards the Moslem east through Harrān and Syria. The Syrians took up the latest Greek speculation i.e. Neo‑Platonism and transmitted to the Moslem what they believed to be the real philosophy of Artistotle. It is surprising that Mohammedan Philosophers, Arabs as well as Persians, continued wrangling over what they believed to be, the real teaching of Aristotle and Plato, and it never occurred to them that for a thorough comprehension of their Philosophies, the knowledge of Greek language was absolutely necessary. So great was their, ignorance that an epitomised translation, of the Enneeads of Plotinus was accepted as āTheology of Aristotle.ā It took them centuries to arrive at. a clear conception of the two great masters of Greek thought and it is doubtful whether they ever completely understood them. Avicenna is certainly clearer and more original than Al‑Fārābī and Ibn Maskawaih; and the Andelusian Averroes, though he is nearer to Aristotle than any of his predecessors, is yet far from a complete grasp of Aristotle's Philosophy. It would, however, be unjust to accuse them of servile imitation. The history of their speculation is one continuous attempt to wade through a hopeless mass of absurdities that careless translators of Greek Philosophy had introduced. They had largely to rethink the Philosophies of Aristotle and Plato. Their commentaries constitute, so to speak, an effort at discovery, not exposition. The very circumstances which left them no time to think out independent systems of thought, point to a subtle mind, unfortunately cabined and cribbed by a heap of obstructing nonsense that patient industry had gradually to eliminate, and thus to window out truth from falsehood. with these preliminary remarks we proceed to consider Persian students of Greek Philosophy individually.

1. IBN MASKAWAIH[1] (d. 1030)

Passing over the names of Saraḵẖsīī[2] , Fārābī who was a Turk, and the Physician Rāzī (d. 932 A.D.) who true to his Persian habits of thought, looked upon light as the first creation, and admitted the eternity of matter, space and time, we come to the illustrious name of Abu 'Ali Muhammad Ibn Muhammad Ibn Ya'qub, commonly known as Ibn Maskawaih ‑the treasurer of the Buwaihid Sultan' Adaduddaula ‑one of the most eminent theistic thinkers, physicians, moralists and historians of Persia. I give below a brief account of his system from his well‑known work Al Fauz al‑Asg̱ẖar, published in Beirët.

1. The existence of the ultimate principle

Here Ibn Maskawaih follows Aristotle, and reproduces his argument based on the fact of physical motion. All bodies have the inseparable property of motion which covers all form of change, and does not proceed from the nature of bodies themselves. Motion, therefore, demands an external source of prime mover. The supposition that motion may constitute the very essence of bodies, is contradicted by experience. Man, for instance, has the power of free movement; but, on the supposition, different parts of his body must continue to move even after they are severed from one another. The series of moving causes, therefore, must stop at a cause which, itself immovable, moves everything else. The immobility of the Primal cause is essential; for the supposition of motion in the Primal cause would necessitate infinite regress, which is absurd.

The immovable mover is one. A multiplicity of original movers must imply something common in their nature, so that they might be brought under the same category. It must also imply some point of difference in order to distinguish them from each other. But this partial identity and difference necessitate composition in their respective essences; and composition, being a form of motion, cannot, as we have shown, exist in the first cause of motion. The prime mover again is eternal and immaterial. Since transition from non‑existence to existence is a form of motion; and since matter is always subject to some kind of motion, it follows that a thing which is not eternal, or is, in any way, associated with matter, must be in motion.

2. The Knowledge of the Ultimate

All human knowledge begins from sensations which are gradually transformed into ' perceptions. The earlier stages of intellection are completely con. ditioned by the presence of external reality. But the progress of knowledge means to be able to think without being conditioned by matter. Thought begins with matter, but its object is to gradually free itself from the primary condition of its own possibility. A higher stage, therefore, is reached in imagination ‑ the power to reproduce and retain in the mind the copy or image of a thing without reference to the external objectivity of the thing itself. In the formation of concepts thought reaches a still higher stage in point of freedom from materiality though the concept, in so far as it is the result of comparison and assimilation of percepts, cannot he regarded as having completely freed itself from the gross cause of sensations. But the fact that conception is based on perception, should not lead us to ignore the great difference between the nature of the concept and the percept, The individual (percept) is undergoing constant change which affects the character of the knowledge founded on mere perception. The knowledge of individuals, therefore, lacks the element of permanence. The universal (concept), on the other hand, is not affected by the law of change. Individuals change; the universal remains intact. It is the essence of matter to submit to the law of change: the freer a thing is from matter, the less liable it is to change. God, therefore, being absolutely free from matter, is absolutely changeless; and it is His complete' freedom from materiality that makes our conception of Him difficult.or impossible. The object of all Philosophical training is to develop the power of āideationā or contemplation on pure concepts, in order that constant practice might make possible the conception of the absolutely immaterial.

3. How the one creates the many

In this connection it is necessary, for the sake of clearness, to divide Ibn Maskcawaih's investigations into two parts:‑

(a) That the ultimate agent or cause created the Universe out of nothing. Materialists, he says, hold the eternity of matter, and attribute form to the creative activity of God. It is, however, admitted that when matter passes from one form into another form, the previous form becomes absolutely non. existent. For if it does not become absolutely non-existent, it must either pass off into some other body, or continue to exist in the same body. The first alternative is contradicted by every‑day experience‑ If we transform a ball of wax into a solid square, the original rotundity of the ball does not pass off into some other body. The second alternative is also impossible; for it would necessitate the conclusion that two contradictory forms e.g., circularity and length, can exist in the same body. It, therefore, follows that the original form passes into absolute non‑existence, when the new form comes into being. This argument proves conclusively that, attributes i. e. form, colour etc., come into being from pure nothing. In order to understand that the substance is also non‑eternal like the attribute, we should grasp the truth of the following propositions:

1. The analysis of matter results in a number of different elements, the diversity of which is reduced to one simple element.

2. Form and matter are inseparable: no change in matter can annihilate form.

From these two propositions, Ibn Maskawaih concludes that the substance had a beginning in time. Matter like form must have begun to exist; since the eternity of matter necessitates the eternity of form which, as we have seen, cannot be regarded as eternal.

(b) The process of creation. What is the cause of this immense diversity which meets us on all sides? How could the many be created by one? When, says the Philosopher, one cause produces a number of different effects, their multiplicity may depend on any of the following reasons:

1. The cause may have various powers. Man, for instance, being a combination of various elements and powers. may be the cause of various actions.

2. The cause may use various means to produce a variety of effects.,

3. The cause may work upon a variety of material.

None of these propositions can be true of the nature of the ultimate cause‑God. That he possesses various powers, distinct from one another, is manifestly absurd; since his nature does not admit of composition. If he is supposed to have employed different means to produce diversity. who is the creator of these means? If these means are due to the creative agency of some cause other than the ultimate cause, there would be a plurality of ultimate causes. If, on the other hand, the Ultimate Cause himself created these means, he must have required other means to create these means. The third proposition is also inadmissible as a conception of the creative act. The many cannot flow from the causal action of one agent. It, therefore, follows that we have only one way out of the difficulty ‑ that the ultimate cause created only one thing which led to the creation of another. Ibn Maskawaih here enumerates the usual Neo‑Platonic emanations gradually growing grosser and grosser until we reach the primordial elements, which combine and recombine to evolve higher and higher forms of life. Shiblī thus sums up Ibn Maskawaih's theory of evolution[3] :

The combination of primary substances produced the mineral kingdom, the lowest form of life. A higher stage of evolution is reached in the vegetable kingdom. The first to appear is spontaneous grass then plants and various kinds of trees, some of which touch the border‑land of animal kingdom, in so far as they manifest certain animal characteristics. Intermediary between the vegetable kingdom and the animal kingdom there is a certain form of life which is neither animal nor vegetable, but shares the characteristics of both (e.g., coral). The first step beyond this intermediary stage of life, is the development of the power of movement, and the sense of touch in tiny worms which crawl upon the earth. The sense of touch, owing to the process of differentiation, develops other forms of sense, until we reach the plane of higher animals in which intelligence begins to manifest itself in an ascending scale. Humanity is touched in the ape which undergoes further development, and gradually develops erect stature and power of understanding similar to man. Here animality ends and humanity begins.”

4. The Soul

In order to understand whether the soul has an independent existence, we should examine the nature of human knowledge. It is the essential property of matter that it cannot assume two different forms simultaneously. To transform a silver spoon into a silver glass, it is necessary that the spoon‑form as such should cease to exist. This property is common to all bodies, and body that lacks it cannot be regarded as a body. Now when we examine the nature of perception, we see that there is a principle in man which, in so far as it is able to know more than one thing at a time, can assume, so to say, many different forms simultaneously. This principle cannot be matter, since it lacks the fundamental property of matter. The essense of the soul consists in the power of perceiving a number of objects at one and the same moment of time. But it may be objected that the soul‑principle may be either material in its essence, or a function of matter. There are, however, reasons to show that the soul cannot be a function of matter.

(a) A thing which assumes different forms and states, cannot itself be one of these forms and states. A body which receives different colours should be, in its own nature, colourless. The soul, in its perception of external objects, assumes, as it were, various forms and states; it, therefore, cannot be regarded as one of those forms. Ibn Maskawaih seems to give no countenance to the contemporary Faculty‑ Psychology; to him different mental states are various transformations of the soul itself.

b) The attributes are constantly changing; there must be beyond the sphere of change, some permanent substratum which is the foundation of personal identity.

Having shown that the soul cannot be regarded as a function of matter, Ibn Maskawaih proceeds to prove that it is essentially immaterial. Some of his arguments may be noticed:

1. The senses, after they have perceived a strong stimulus, cannot, for a certain amount of time, perceive a weaker stimulus. It is, however, quite different with the mental act of cognition.

2. When we reflect on an abstruse subject, we endeavour to completely shut our eyes to the objects around us, which ‑we regard as so many hindrances in the way of spiritual activity. If the soul is material in its essence, it need not., in order to secure unimpeded activity, escape from the world of matter.

3. The perception of a strong stimulus weakens and sometimes injures the sense. The intellect, on the other hand, grows in strength with the knowledge of ideas and general notions.

4. Physical weakness due to old age, does not affect mental vigour.

5. The soul can conceive certain propositions which have no connection with the sense‑data. The senses, for instance, cannot perceive. that two contradictories cannot exist together.

6. There is a certain power in us which rules over physical organs, corrects sense‑errors, and unifies all knowledge. This unifying principle which reflects over the, material brought before it through the science‑channel, and, weighing the evidence of each sense,. decides the character of rival statements, must itself stand above the. sphere of matter.

The combined force of these considerations, says Ibn Maskawaih, conclusively establishes the truth of the proposition‑that the soul is essentially immaterial. The immateriality of the soul signifies its immortality; since mortality is a characteristic of the material.

2. AVICENNA (d. 1037)

Among the early Persian Philosophers, Avicenna alone attempted to construct his own system of thought. His work, called “Eastern Philosophy”, is still extant; and there has also come down to us a fragment[4] in which the Philosopher has expressed his views on the universal operation of the force of love in nature. It is something like the contour of a system, and it is quite probable that Ideas expressed therein were afterwards fully worked out.

Avicenna defines “Love” as the appreciation of Beauty, and from the standpoint of this definition he explains that there are three categories of being:

1. Things that are at the highest point of perfection.

2. Things that are at the lowest point of perfection.

3. Things that stand between the two poles of perfection. But the third category has no real existence; since there are things that have already attained the acme of perfection, and there are others still progressing towards perfection. This striving for the ideal is love's movement towards beauty which, according to Avicenna, is identical with perfection. Beneath the visible evolution of forms is the force of love which actualises all striving, movement, progress. Things are so constituted that they hate non‑existence, and love the joy of individuality in various forms. The indeterminate matter, dead in itself, assumes, or more properly, is made to asume by the inner force of love, various forms, and rises higher and higher in the scale of beauty. The operation of this ultimate force, in the physical plane, can be thus indicated:

1. Inanimate objects are combinations of form, matter and quality. Owing to the working of this mysterious power, quality sticks to its subject or substance; and form embraces indeterminate matter which, impelled by the mighty force of love, rises from fomī to form.

2. The tendency of the force of love is to centralise itself In the vegetable kindom, it attains a higher degree of unity or centralisation; though the soul still lacks that unity of action which it attains afterwards. The processes of the vegetative soul are

(a) Assimilation.

(b) Growth.

(c) Reproduction.

These processes, however, are nothing more than so many manifestations of love. Assimilation indicates attraction and transformation of what is external into what is internal. Growth is love of achieving more and more harmony of parts; and reproduction means perpetuation of the kind, which is only another phase of love.

3. In the animal kingdom, the various operations of the force of love are still more unified. It does preserve the vegetable instinct of acting in different directions; but there is also the development of temperament which is a step towards more unified activity. In man this tendency towards unification manifests itself in self‑consciousness. The same force of ānatural or constitutional love,ā is working in the life of beings higher than man. All things are moving towards the first Beloved the Eternal Beauty. The worth of a thing is decided by its nearness to, or distance from, this ultimate principle.

As a physician. however, Avicenna is especially interested in the nature of the Soul. In his times, moreover, the doctrine of metempsychosis was gating more and more popular. He, therefore, discusses the nature of the soul, with a view to show the falsity of this doctrine. It is difficult, he says, to define the soul; since it manifest., different powers and tendencies in different planes of being. His view of the various powers of the soul can be thus represented:

1. Manifestation as unconscious activity

(b) Working in one direction and securing uniformity of action‑growth of temperament.

2. Manifestation as conscious activity

(a) As directed to more than one object

(b) As directed to one object ‑ The soul of the spheres which continue in one uniform motion.

In his fragment on “Nafs” (soul) Avicenna endeavours to show that a material accompaniment is not necessary to the soul. It is not through the instrumentality of the body, or some power of the body, that the soul conceives or imagines; since if the soul necessarily requires a physical medium in conceiving other things, it must require a different body in order to conceive the body attached to itself. Moreover, the fact that the soul is immediately self conscious‑ conscious of itself through itself‑conclusively shows that in its essence the soul is quite independent of any physical accompaniment. The doctrine of metempsychosis implies, also, individual Pre‑existence. But supposing that the soul did exist before the body, it must have existed either as one or as many, The multiplicity of bodies is due to the multiplicity of material forms, and does not indicate the multiplicity of souls. On the other hand, if it existed as one, the ignorance or knowledge of A must mean the ignorance or knowledge of B; since the soul is one in both. These categories, therefore, cannot be applied to the soul. The truth is, says Avicenna, that body and soul are contiguous to each other, but quite opposite in their respective essences. The disintegration of the body does not necessitate the annihilation of the soul. Dissolution or decay is a property of compound, and not of simple, indivisible, ideal substances. Avicenna, then denies pre‑existence, and endeavors to show the possibility of disembodied conscious life beyond the grave.

We have run over the work of the early Persian Neo‑Platonists among whom, as we have seen, Avicenna alone learned to think for himself. Of the generations of his disciples ‑Behmenyarl. Abu'l‑Ma'mëm, of Isfahān, Ma'sumī Ab u'l‑'Abbās, Ibn Tāhir[5] ‑ who carried on their master's Philosophy, we need not speak. So powerful was the spell of Avicenna's personality that even long after it had been removed, any amplification or modification of his views was considered to be an unpardonable crime. The old Iranian idea of the dualism of Light and Darkness does not act as a determining factor in the progress of Neo‑Platonic ideas in Persia, which borrowed independent life for a time, and eventually merged their separate existence in the general current of Persian speculation. They are therefore, connected with the course of indigenous thought only in so far as they contributed to the strength and expansion of that monistic tendency, which manifested itself early in the Church of Zoroaster; and, though for a time hindered by the theological controversies of Islām, burst out with redoubled force in later times to extend its titanic grasp to all the previous intellectual achievements of the land of its birth.

NOTES AND REFERENCES

[1] Dr. Boer, in the Philosophy of Islām, gives a full. Account of the Philsophy of Al- Fārābī and Avicenna: but his account of Ibn Maskawaih' Philsosphy is restricted to the Ethical teaching of that Philosopher. I have given here his metaphysical views which are decidedly more systematic than those of Al-Fārābī. Instead of repeating Avicenna's Neo Platonism I have briefly stated what I believe to be his original contribution to the thought of his country.

[2] Sarakhsī died in 899 A.D. He was a disciple of the Arabian Philosopher Al-Kindī. His works, unfortunately have not reached us.

[3] Maulāna Shiblī 'Ilm al Kalām, p. 141. (Haidarābād).

[4] This fragment on love is preserved in the collected works of Avicenna in the British Museum Library and has been edited by N.A.F. Mehren. (Leiden, 1894).

[5] Al‑Baihāqī; far. 28a et seqq.

CHAPTER II: THE NEO‑PLATONIC ARISTOTELIANS OF PERSIA

With the Arab conquest of Persia, a new era begins in the history of Persian thought. But the warlike sons of sandy Arabia whose swords terminated, at Nahāwand, the political independence of this ancient people, could hardly touch the intellectual freedom of the converted Zoroastrian.

The political revolution brought about by the Arab conquest marks the beginning of interaction between the Aryan and the Semitic, and we find that the Persian, though he lets the surface of his life become largely semitised, quietly converts Islam to his own Aryan habits of thought. In the West the sober Hellenic intellect interpreted another Semitic religion ‑Christianity; and the results of interpretation in both cases are strikingly similar. In each case the‑ aim of the interpreting intellect is to soften the extreme rigidity of an absolute law imposed on the individual from without; in one word it is an endeavour to internalise the external. This process of transformation began with the study of Greek thought which, though combined with other causes, hindered the growth of native speculation, yet marked a transition from the purely objective attitude of Pre‑Islamic Persian Philosophy to the subjective attitude of later thinkers. It is, I believe, largely due to the influence of foreign thought that the old monistic tendency when it reasserted itself about the end of the 8th century, assumed a much more spiritual aspect; and, in its latter development, revivified and spiritualised the old Iranian dualism of Light and Darkness. The fact, therefore, that Greek thought roused into fresh life the subtle Persian intellect, and largely contributed to, and was finally assimilated by the general course of intellectual evolution in Persia, justifies us in briefly running over, even though at the risk of repetition, the systems of the Persian Neo‑Platonists who, as such, deserve very little attention in a history of purely Persian thought.

It must, however, be remembered that Greek wisdom flowed towards the Moslem east through Harrān and Syria. The Syrians took up the latest Greek speculation i.e. Neo‑Platonism and transmitted to the Moslem what they believed to be the real philosophy of Artistotle. It is surprising that Mohammedan Philosophers, Arabs as well as Persians, continued wrangling over what they believed to be, the real teaching of Aristotle and Plato, and it never occurred to them that for a thorough comprehension of their Philosophies, the knowledge of Greek language was absolutely necessary. So great was their, ignorance that an epitomised translation, of the Enneeads of Plotinus was accepted as āTheology of Aristotle.ā It took them centuries to arrive at. a clear conception of the two great masters of Greek thought and it is doubtful whether they ever completely understood them. Avicenna is certainly clearer and more original than Al‑Fārābī and Ibn Maskawaih; and the Andelusian Averroes, though he is nearer to Aristotle than any of his predecessors, is yet far from a complete grasp of Aristotle's Philosophy. It would, however, be unjust to accuse them of servile imitation. The history of their speculation is one continuous attempt to wade through a hopeless mass of absurdities that careless translators of Greek Philosophy had introduced. They had largely to rethink the Philosophies of Aristotle and Plato. Their commentaries constitute, so to speak, an effort at discovery, not exposition. The very circumstances which left them no time to think out independent systems of thought, point to a subtle mind, unfortunately cabined and cribbed by a heap of obstructing nonsense that patient industry had gradually to eliminate, and thus to window out truth from falsehood. with these preliminary remarks we proceed to consider Persian students of Greek Philosophy individually.

1. IBN MASKAWAIH[1] (d. 1030)

Passing over the names of Saraḵẖsīī[2] , Fārābī who was a Turk, and the Physician Rāzī (d. 932 A.D.) who true to his Persian habits of thought, looked upon light as the first creation, and admitted the eternity of matter, space and time, we come to the illustrious name of Abu 'Ali Muhammad Ibn Muhammad Ibn Ya'qub, commonly known as Ibn Maskawaih ‑the treasurer of the Buwaihid Sultan' Adaduddaula ‑one of the most eminent theistic thinkers, physicians, moralists and historians of Persia. I give below a brief account of his system from his well‑known work Al Fauz al‑Asg̱ẖar, published in Beirët.

1. The existence of the ultimate principle

Here Ibn Maskawaih follows Aristotle, and reproduces his argument based on the fact of physical motion. All bodies have the inseparable property of motion which covers all form of change, and does not proceed from the nature of bodies themselves. Motion, therefore, demands an external source of prime mover. The supposition that motion may constitute the very essence of bodies, is contradicted by experience. Man, for instance, has the power of free movement; but, on the supposition, different parts of his body must continue to move even after they are severed from one another. The series of moving causes, therefore, must stop at a cause which, itself immovable, moves everything else. The immobility of the Primal cause is essential; for the supposition of motion in the Primal cause would necessitate infinite regress, which is absurd.

The immovable mover is one. A multiplicity of original movers must imply something common in their nature, so that they might be brought under the same category. It must also imply some point of difference in order to distinguish them from each other. But this partial identity and difference necessitate composition in their respective essences; and composition, being a form of motion, cannot, as we have shown, exist in the first cause of motion. The prime mover again is eternal and immaterial. Since transition from non‑existence to existence is a form of motion; and since matter is always subject to some kind of motion, it follows that a thing which is not eternal, or is, in any way, associated with matter, must be in motion.

2. The Knowledge of the Ultimate

All human knowledge begins from sensations which are gradually transformed into ' perceptions. The earlier stages of intellection are completely con. ditioned by the presence of external reality. But the progress of knowledge means to be able to think without being conditioned by matter. Thought begins with matter, but its object is to gradually free itself from the primary condition of its own possibility. A higher stage, therefore, is reached in imagination ‑ the power to reproduce and retain in the mind the copy or image of a thing without reference to the external objectivity of the thing itself. In the formation of concepts thought reaches a still higher stage in point of freedom from materiality though the concept, in so far as it is the result of comparison and assimilation of percepts, cannot he regarded as having completely freed itself from the gross cause of sensations. But the fact that conception is based on perception, should not lead us to ignore the great difference between the nature of the concept and the percept, The individual (percept) is undergoing constant change which affects the character of the knowledge founded on mere perception. The knowledge of individuals, therefore, lacks the element of permanence. The universal (concept), on the other hand, is not affected by the law of change. Individuals change; the universal remains intact. It is the essence of matter to submit to the law of change: the freer a thing is from matter, the less liable it is to change. God, therefore, being absolutely free from matter, is absolutely changeless; and it is His complete' freedom from materiality that makes our conception of Him difficult.or impossible. The object of all Philosophical training is to develop the power of āideationā or contemplation on pure concepts, in order that constant practice might make possible the conception of the absolutely immaterial.

3. How the one creates the many

In this connection it is necessary, for the sake of clearness, to divide Ibn Maskcawaih's investigations into two parts:‑

(a) That the ultimate agent or cause created the Universe out of nothing. Materialists, he says, hold the eternity of matter, and attribute form to the creative activity of God. It is, however, admitted that when matter passes from one form into another form, the previous form becomes absolutely non. existent. For if it does not become absolutely non-existent, it must either pass off into some other body, or continue to exist in the same body. The first alternative is contradicted by every‑day experience‑ If we transform a ball of wax into a solid square, the original rotundity of the ball does not pass off into some other body. The second alternative is also impossible; for it would necessitate the conclusion that two contradictory forms e.g., circularity and length, can exist in the same body. It, therefore, follows that the original form passes into absolute non‑existence, when the new form comes into being. This argument proves conclusively that, attributes i. e. form, colour etc., come into being from pure nothing. In order to understand that the substance is also non‑eternal like the attribute, we should grasp the truth of the following propositions:

1. The analysis of matter results in a number of different elements, the diversity of which is reduced to one simple element.

2. Form and matter are inseparable: no change in matter can annihilate form.

From these two propositions, Ibn Maskawaih concludes that the substance had a beginning in time. Matter like form must have begun to exist; since the eternity of matter necessitates the eternity of form which, as we have seen, cannot be regarded as eternal.

(b) The process of creation. What is the cause of this immense diversity which meets us on all sides? How could the many be created by one? When, says the Philosopher, one cause produces a number of different effects, their multiplicity may depend on any of the following reasons:

1. The cause may have various powers. Man, for instance, being a combination of various elements and powers. may be the cause of various actions.

2. The cause may use various means to produce a variety of effects.,

3. The cause may work upon a variety of material.

None of these propositions can be true of the nature of the ultimate cause‑God. That he possesses various powers, distinct from one another, is manifestly absurd; since his nature does not admit of composition. If he is supposed to have employed different means to produce diversity. who is the creator of these means? If these means are due to the creative agency of some cause other than the ultimate cause, there would be a plurality of ultimate causes. If, on the other hand, the Ultimate Cause himself created these means, he must have required other means to create these means. The third proposition is also inadmissible as a conception of the creative act. The many cannot flow from the causal action of one agent. It, therefore, follows that we have only one way out of the difficulty ‑ that the ultimate cause created only one thing which led to the creation of another. Ibn Maskawaih here enumerates the usual Neo‑Platonic emanations gradually growing grosser and grosser until we reach the primordial elements, which combine and recombine to evolve higher and higher forms of life. Shiblī thus sums up Ibn Maskawaih's theory of evolution[3] :

The combination of primary substances produced the mineral kingdom, the lowest form of life. A higher stage of evolution is reached in the vegetable kingdom. The first to appear is spontaneous grass then plants and various kinds of trees, some of which touch the border‑land of animal kingdom, in so far as they manifest certain animal characteristics. Intermediary between the vegetable kingdom and the animal kingdom there is a certain form of life which is neither animal nor vegetable, but shares the characteristics of both (e.g., coral). The first step beyond this intermediary stage of life, is the development of the power of movement, and the sense of touch in tiny worms which crawl upon the earth. The sense of touch, owing to the process of differentiation, develops other forms of sense, until we reach the plane of higher animals in which intelligence begins to manifest itself in an ascending scale. Humanity is touched in the ape which undergoes further development, and gradually develops erect stature and power of understanding similar to man. Here animality ends and humanity begins.”

4. The Soul

In order to understand whether the soul has an independent existence, we should examine the nature of human knowledge. It is the essential property of matter that it cannot assume two different forms simultaneously. To transform a silver spoon into a silver glass, it is necessary that the spoon‑form as such should cease to exist. This property is common to all bodies, and body that lacks it cannot be regarded as a body. Now when we examine the nature of perception, we see that there is a principle in man which, in so far as it is able to know more than one thing at a time, can assume, so to say, many different forms simultaneously. This principle cannot be matter, since it lacks the fundamental property of matter. The essense of the soul consists in the power of perceiving a number of objects at one and the same moment of time. But it may be objected that the soul‑principle may be either material in its essence, or a function of matter. There are, however, reasons to show that the soul cannot be a function of matter.

(a) A thing which assumes different forms and states, cannot itself be one of these forms and states. A body which receives different colours should be, in its own nature, colourless. The soul, in its perception of external objects, assumes, as it were, various forms and states; it, therefore, cannot be regarded as one of those forms. Ibn Maskawaih seems to give no countenance to the contemporary Faculty‑ Psychology; to him different mental states are various transformations of the soul itself.

b) The attributes are constantly changing; there must be beyond the sphere of change, some permanent substratum which is the foundation of personal identity.

Having shown that the soul cannot be regarded as a function of matter, Ibn Maskawaih proceeds to prove that it is essentially immaterial. Some of his arguments may be noticed:

1. The senses, after they have perceived a strong stimulus, cannot, for a certain amount of time, perceive a weaker stimulus. It is, however, quite different with the mental act of cognition.

2. When we reflect on an abstruse subject, we endeavour to completely shut our eyes to the objects around us, which ‑we regard as so many hindrances in the way of spiritual activity. If the soul is material in its essence, it need not., in order to secure unimpeded activity, escape from the world of matter.

3. The perception of a strong stimulus weakens and sometimes injures the sense. The intellect, on the other hand, grows in strength with the knowledge of ideas and general notions.

4. Physical weakness due to old age, does not affect mental vigour.

5. The soul can conceive certain propositions which have no connection with the sense‑data. The senses, for instance, cannot perceive. that two contradictories cannot exist together.

6. There is a certain power in us which rules over physical organs, corrects sense‑errors, and unifies all knowledge. This unifying principle which reflects over the, material brought before it through the science‑channel, and, weighing the evidence of each sense,. decides the character of rival statements, must itself stand above the. sphere of matter.

The combined force of these considerations, says Ibn Maskawaih, conclusively establishes the truth of the proposition‑that the soul is essentially immaterial. The immateriality of the soul signifies its immortality; since mortality is a characteristic of the material.

2. AVICENNA (d. 1037)

Among the early Persian Philosophers, Avicenna alone attempted to construct his own system of thought. His work, called “Eastern Philosophy”, is still extant; and there has also come down to us a fragment[4] in which the Philosopher has expressed his views on the universal operation of the force of love in nature. It is something like the contour of a system, and it is quite probable that Ideas expressed therein were afterwards fully worked out.

Avicenna defines “Love” as the appreciation of Beauty, and from the standpoint of this definition he explains that there are three categories of being:

1. Things that are at the highest point of perfection.

2. Things that are at the lowest point of perfection.

3. Things that stand between the two poles of perfection. But the third category has no real existence; since there are things that have already attained the acme of perfection, and there are others still progressing towards perfection. This striving for the ideal is love's movement towards beauty which, according to Avicenna, is identical with perfection. Beneath the visible evolution of forms is the force of love which actualises all striving, movement, progress. Things are so constituted that they hate non‑existence, and love the joy of individuality in various forms. The indeterminate matter, dead in itself, assumes, or more properly, is made to asume by the inner force of love, various forms, and rises higher and higher in the scale of beauty. The operation of this ultimate force, in the physical plane, can be thus indicated:

1. Inanimate objects are combinations of form, matter and quality. Owing to the working of this mysterious power, quality sticks to its subject or substance; and form embraces indeterminate matter which, impelled by the mighty force of love, rises from fomī to form.

2. The tendency of the force of love is to centralise itself In the vegetable kindom, it attains a higher degree of unity or centralisation; though the soul still lacks that unity of action which it attains afterwards. The processes of the vegetative soul are

(a) Assimilation.

(b) Growth.

(c) Reproduction.

These processes, however, are nothing more than so many manifestations of love. Assimilation indicates attraction and transformation of what is external into what is internal. Growth is love of achieving more and more harmony of parts; and reproduction means perpetuation of the kind, which is only another phase of love.

3. In the animal kingdom, the various operations of the force of love are still more unified. It does preserve the vegetable instinct of acting in different directions; but there is also the development of temperament which is a step towards more unified activity. In man this tendency towards unification manifests itself in self‑consciousness. The same force of ānatural or constitutional love,ā is working in the life of beings higher than man. All things are moving towards the first Beloved the Eternal Beauty. The worth of a thing is decided by its nearness to, or distance from, this ultimate principle.

As a physician. however, Avicenna is especially interested in the nature of the Soul. In his times, moreover, the doctrine of metempsychosis was gating more and more popular. He, therefore, discusses the nature of the soul, with a view to show the falsity of this doctrine. It is difficult, he says, to define the soul; since it manifest., different powers and tendencies in different planes of being. His view of the various powers of the soul can be thus represented:

1. Manifestation as unconscious activity

(b) Working in one direction and securing uniformity of action‑growth of temperament.

2. Manifestation as conscious activity

(a) As directed to more than one object

(b) As directed to one object ‑ The soul of the spheres which continue in one uniform motion.

In his fragment on “Nafs” (soul) Avicenna endeavours to show that a material accompaniment is not necessary to the soul. It is not through the instrumentality of the body, or some power of the body, that the soul conceives or imagines; since if the soul necessarily requires a physical medium in conceiving other things, it must require a different body in order to conceive the body attached to itself. Moreover, the fact that the soul is immediately self conscious‑ conscious of itself through itself‑conclusively shows that in its essence the soul is quite independent of any physical accompaniment. The doctrine of metempsychosis implies, also, individual Pre‑existence. But supposing that the soul did exist before the body, it must have existed either as one or as many, The multiplicity of bodies is due to the multiplicity of material forms, and does not indicate the multiplicity of souls. On the other hand, if it existed as one, the ignorance or knowledge of A must mean the ignorance or knowledge of B; since the soul is one in both. These categories, therefore, cannot be applied to the soul. The truth is, says Avicenna, that body and soul are contiguous to each other, but quite opposite in their respective essences. The disintegration of the body does not necessitate the annihilation of the soul. Dissolution or decay is a property of compound, and not of simple, indivisible, ideal substances. Avicenna, then denies pre‑existence, and endeavors to show the possibility of disembodied conscious life beyond the grave.

We have run over the work of the early Persian Neo‑Platonists among whom, as we have seen, Avicenna alone learned to think for himself. Of the generations of his disciples ‑Behmenyarl. Abu'l‑Ma'mëm, of Isfahān, Ma'sumī Ab u'l‑'Abbās, Ibn Tāhir[5] ‑ who carried on their master's Philosophy, we need not speak. So powerful was the spell of Avicenna's personality that even long after it had been removed, any amplification or modification of his views was considered to be an unpardonable crime. The old Iranian idea of the dualism of Light and Darkness does not act as a determining factor in the progress of Neo‑Platonic ideas in Persia, which borrowed independent life for a time, and eventually merged their separate existence in the general current of Persian speculation. They are therefore, connected with the course of indigenous thought only in so far as they contributed to the strength and expansion of that monistic tendency, which manifested itself early in the Church of Zoroaster; and, though for a time hindered by the theological controversies of Islām, burst out with redoubled force in later times to extend its titanic grasp to all the previous intellectual achievements of the land of its birth.

NOTES AND REFERENCES

[1] Dr. Boer, in the Philosophy of Islām, gives a full. Account of the Philsophy of Al- Fārābī and Avicenna: but his account of Ibn Maskawaih' Philsosphy is restricted to the Ethical teaching of that Philosopher. I have given here his metaphysical views which are decidedly more systematic than those of Al-Fārābī. Instead of repeating Avicenna's Neo Platonism I have briefly stated what I believe to be his original contribution to the thought of his country.

[2] Sarakhsī died in 899 A.D. He was a disciple of the Arabian Philosopher Al-Kindī. His works, unfortunately have not reached us.

[3] Maulāna Shiblī 'Ilm al Kalām, p. 141. (Haidarābād).

[4] This fragment on love is preserved in the collected works of Avicenna in the British Museum Library and has been edited by N.A.F. Mehren. (Leiden, 1894).

[5] Al‑Baihāqī; far. 28a et seqq.