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Russell's Moral Philosophy

First published Mon Dec 17, 2007
Russell remains famous as a logician, a metaphysician, and a philosopher of mathematics, but
was notorious in his own day for his social and political opinions. He wrote an immense amount
about practical ethics women's rights, marriage and morals, war and peace, and the vexed
question of whether socialists should smoke good cigars. (They should.) And unlike present-day
practical ethicists (with a few notable exceptions such as Peter Singer) he was widely read by the
non-philosophical public. But though he was famous as a moralist and famous as a philosopher,
Russell does not have much of a reputation as a moral philosopher in the more technical sense of
the term. Until very recently, his contributions to what is nowadays known as ethical theory
meta-ethics (the nature and justification, if any, of moral judgments) and normative ethics (what
makes right acts right etc) were either unknown, disregarded or dismissed as unoriginal.
Perhaps Russell would not have repined, since he professed himself dissatisfied with what he had
said on the philosophical basis of ethics (RoE: 165/Papers 11: 310). But since he took an
equally dim view of what he had read on that topic, the fact that he did not think much of his
own contributions does not mean that he thought them any worse than anybody else's. In my
view they are often rather better and deserve to be disinterred. But disinterred is the word since
some of his most original contributions were left unpublished in his own lifetime and what he
did publish was often buried in publications ostensibly devoted to less theoretical topics. Thus
his brilliant little paper Is There an Absolute Good, which anticipates Mackie's The Refutation
of Morals by over twenty years, was delivered to a meeting of the Apostles (an exclusive,
prestigious but secret Cambridge discussion group of which Moore, Russell and Ramsey were all
members) in 1922 and was not published until 1988, whilst his version of emotivism (which
anticipates Ayer's Language, Truth and Logic (1936) by one year, and Stevenson's The Emotive
Meaning of Ethical Terms (1937) by two) appeared towards the end of a popular book, Religion
and Science (1935), whose principal purpose was not to discuss the nature of moral judgments
but to do down religion in the name of science. However, Russell's dissatisfaction with his
writings on ethical theory did not extend to his writings on social and political topics. I have no
difficulty in practical moral judgments, which I find I make on a roughly hedonistic [i.e.
utilitarian] basis, but, when it comes to the philosophy of moral judgments, I am impelled in two
opposite directions and remain perplexed (RoE: 165-6/Papers 11: 311). His perplexity however
was theoretical rather than practical. He was pretty clear about what we ought to do (work for
world government, for example), but perplexed about what he meant when he said that we
ought to do it.
One point to stress, before we go on. Russell took a pride in his willingness to change his mind.
Obstinacy in the face of counter-arguments was not, in his opinion, a virtue in a scientificallyminded philosopher. Unfortunately he overdid the open-mindedness, abandoning good theories
for worse ones in the face of weak counter-arguments and sometimes forgetting some of his own
best insights (a forgivable fault in given the fountain of good ideas that seemed to be continually
erupting in his head). Russell's mental development, therefore, is not always a stirring tale of
intellectual progress. His first thoughts are often better than his second thoughts and his second

thoughts better than his third thoughts. Thus the emotivism that was his dominant view in the
later part of his life is vulnerable to objections that he himself had raised in an earlier incarnation,
as was the error theory which he briefly espoused in 1922. Nobody should be surprised,
therefore, if I sometimes deploy an earlier Russell to criticize one of his later selves. Whitehead
is reported to have said that Russell was a Platonic dialogue in himself, and in this temporally
extended debate quite often it is one of the younger Russells who wins the argument

Bertrand Russell
First published Thu Dec 7, 1995; substantive revision Mon Oct 28, 2013
Bertrand Arthur William Russell (18721970) was a British philosopher, logician, essayist and
social critic best known for his work in mathematical logic and analytic philosophy. His most
influential contributions include his championing of logicism (the view that mathematics is in
some important sense reducible to logic), his refining of Gottlob Frege's predicate calculus
(which still forms the basis of most contemporary systems of logic), his defense of neutral
monism (the view that the world consists of just one type of substance which is neither
exclusively mental nor exclusively physical), and his theories of definite descriptions and logical
atomism.
Together with G.E. Moore, Russell is generally recognized as one of the main founders of
modern analytic philosophy. Together with Kurt Gdel, he is regularly credited with being one of
the most important logicians of the twentieth century.
Over the course of a long career, Russell also made significant contributions to a broad range of
other subjects, including the history of ideas, ethics, political theory, educational theory and
religious studies. In addition, generations of general readers have benefited from his many
popular writings on a wide variety of topics in both the humanities and the natural sciences. Like
Voltaire, to whom he has been compared, he wrote with style and wit and had enormous
influence.
After a life marked by controversyincluding dismissals from both Trinity College, Cambridge,
and City College, New YorkRussell was awarded the Order of Merit in 1949 and the Nobel
Prize for Literature in 1950. Noted also for his many spirited anti-nuclear protests and for his
campaign against western involvement in the Vietnam War, Russell remained a prominent public
figure until his death at the age of 97.
Interested readers may listen to two sound clips of Russell speaking or consult the Bertrand
Russell Society's video archive for video clips of and about Russell. (Members of the Society
have access to a significantly larger video library than is available to the general public.
Bertrand Russell: Prose Style
Bertrand Russell is one of the greatest masters of English Prose. He revolutionized
not only the subject matter but also the mode of expression. He has in him a happy

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blend of greatest philosopher and a great writer. He was awarded Nobel Prize for
literature in 1950. The subject matter of his essays may be very difficult but his
manner of expression is so lucid and simple that even a layman can understand him
without any special difficulty. It is a rare privilege which only few prose masters
enjoy. The precision and clarity which Russells prose style possesses are very rare
in the bulk of English prose.
Russell has justly been regarded as one of the great prose stylists of the 20th
century. Although he is not a literary writer yet his work devoted mainly to problems
of philosophy, ethics, morality, political, social life and economics, etc. impresses us
greatly by its literary qualities.
Of course, Russell's style sometimes becomes difficult for the average reader who
comes across sentences which he has read for more than once in order to get the
meaning. Russells style appeals mainly to our intellects and very little to our
feelings or emotions. He uses words simply as tools, to convey his meaning plain
and effective and not to produce any special effects. It is not a coloured or gorgeous
style. Nor is there any passion in it. It is somewhat cold.
There are no jeweled phrases in his writings nor sentences over which we would
like to linger with the aesthetic pleasure. Russells style is intellectually brilliant. He
can condense an idea or a thought in a few words if he so desires. Russell is always
direct, simple and lucid. He knows that the complexity of expression leads to
ambiguity. Nothing can be more lucid than such opening lines:
Happiness depends partly upon external circumstances and partly upon
oneself.
Of all the institutions that have come down to us from the past, none is
so disorganized and derailed as the family.
Russells sentences clearly show Bacons terseness. They are replete with so deep
thoughts like those of Bacon that we may elaborate them in countless pages. Many
sentences are like proverbs, replete with deep meanings like:
Extreme hopes are born of extreme misery.
One of the most powerful sources of false belief is envy.
Pride of a race is even more harmful than national pride.
Russells quotations from the Bible, Shakespeare, Roman and Greek writers are
harmoniously woven into the texture of his thoughts. The Biblical phrases and
quotations lend sublimity to his prose and make his style scholarly. Russell

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manipulates such allusiveness in order to make his ironical onslaughts more
effective.
Irony is a principal instrument of his style. He ironizes the so-called modern minded
people. Russell makes frequent uses of wit and humour but his humour is generally
not pure fun or frolic.
Russell writes chaste prose and there is a rationalistic approach to life. As a deep
thinker and a man with scientific mood, he has infused into his style a new depth
and a stream-like continuity and clarity.
His chief concern is to convey his ideas to his readers. That is why his prose style
exhibits his balanced personality. Style is the man applies to him more logically.
Russell makes long sentences to pour out his feelings with a poetic flash. He thinks
deeply and expresses the matter in a logical manner. The sentence is definitely long
but the main link of the thought is not broken anywhere. All subordinate clause
move towards the main clause with the definite aim of making the sense more clear.
No part of the syntax is loose.
Russell does not use metaphors and similes frequently. To him, they are the matter
of necessity. These are to be used only when there is a dire necessity of using them.
Russell makes a great use of the art of rhetoric to emphasize his point. He does not
make his rhetoric pompous and exaggerated.
Bertrand Russell always argues his case in a strictly logical manner and his aim
always is exactitude or precision. As far as possible, he never leaves the reader in
any doubt about what he has to say. He stresses the need of rationality, which he
calls scepticism in all sphere of life.
Each essay is logically well knit and self-contained. In each essay the development
of the thought is continuous and strictly logical, with a close interconnection
between one paragraph and another. It is a style best suited to an advocate. There
are no superfluities in his style at all.
To conclude, Russell is one of the great prose writers of the last century, who wrote
an almost all kinds of varied subjects with great force and confidence. The unity of
his thoughts goes hand in hand with the unity of his style.
Bertrand Russell (18721970)
The Problems of Philosophy

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Summary

The Problems of Philosophy is an introduction to the discipline of philosophy, written during a

Cambridge lectureship that Russell held in 1912. In it, Russell asks the fundamental question, Is
there any knowledge in the world which is so certain that no reasonable man could doubt it?
Russell sketches out the metaphysical and epistemological views he held at the time, views that
would develop and change over the rest of his career.
Russell begins by exploring the twin concepts of appearance and reality. Empiricists like Russell
believe that all knowledge is ultimately derived from our sensory perceptions of the world
around us. Individual perception, however, is easily affected and prone to error. If three people
one whos had three martinis, one with a heavy fever, and one whos color-blindlook at the
same table, chances are theyll each see the same object somewhat differently. Submerge the
same table underwater, or set it behind a wavy pane of glass, and once again the table will look
different. There is, then, a distinction to be made between appearance and reality. If perception is
so variable, what can it actually tell us about the stable, real object we assume lies behind it?
Russell coined the term sense-data in his attempt to discern the relationship between
appearance and reality. Sense-data are the particular things we perceive during the act of
sensation. When you walk into a caf, the smell of the coffee, the redness of the awning, and the
heat from the radiator are all examples of sense-data. Sense-data are the mental images (visual as
well as auditory, olfactory, tactile, and gustatory) we receive from a given object in the physical
world. As we can see from the table example, the same object can produce variable sense-data.
Sense-data are related to the physical objects they represent, but the exact nature of this
relationship is unclear. The skeptical argument contends that sense-data tell us nothing about the
reality of the object. Russell had a commonsense take on the matter: while he understood the
skeptical arguments, he found no reason to believe them. A hundred different viewers may have a
thousand different kinds of sense-data for a given table, yet each agrees that they are looking at
the same table. This consistency suggests, to Russell, that we must at least believe in the
existence of a single, particular, real table. To this instinctive belief, Russell also adds the
hypothesis that physical objects cause the sense-data we receive and therefore correspond to
them in some significant way.
During the act of sensation (i.e., the exercising of our five senses), we receive and process the
sense-data produced by physical objects in our vicinity. The knowledge we gain during this
process Russell calls perceptual knowledgeknowledge gained through experience. In
contrast, Russell believes we are also in possession of certain kinds of a priori knowledge. These
include the self-evident rules of logic, most important, and those of mathematics. Perceptual
knowledge (the knowledge of things) and a priori knowledge (the knowledge of truths) work in
concert: the first gives us empirical data, and the second tells us how to process that data.

Russell further divides human knowledge into knowledge by acquaintance and knowledge by
description. To be acquainted with something is to be directly and immediately aware of it,
without the action of an intermediary. When you sit on a red plastic chair, you become
acquainted with lots of sense-data associated with that chair. You know its redness, its
smoothness, its coolness, and its hardness. But to know that this thing is called a chair and that
its often found in the company of other chairs and something called a table requires more
than just direct, immediate acquaintance with the physical object. To know all that requires us to
make inferences, based on our general knowledge of facts and on our acquaintance with other
similar objects. This kind of knowledge is derivative, and Russell terms it knowledge by
description. For instance, most of us know only by description that Everest is the tallest
mountain in the world. Few of us have actually been there, so we have to rely on the testimony
of others to know that fact. Indeed, to truly be acquainted with the fact of Everests superior
height, one would have to visit and measure all the mountains in the world. Its probably safe to
say, then, that no one is truly acquainted with that particular piece of knowledge.
Just as we can know objects either immediately or derivatively, we can also know truths
immediately or derivatively. Russell defines immediate knowledge of truths as intuitive truths.
These are concepts that, to Russell, are so clearly self-evident that we just know they must be
true. 1 + 1 = 2 is an example of such a self-evident truth. Derivative knowledge of truths
involves deduction and inference from immediate, self-evident truths.
All knowledge is, in Russells view, built on acquaintance. Without knowledge by description,
however, we would never pass beyond the limits of our own individual experience. Thus, just
like perceptual and a priori knowledge, knowledge by acquaintance and knowledge by
description work together to create a totality of human knowledge.
Analysis

The Problems of Philosophy represents Russells first major attempt at mapping out a theory of
epistemology, or a theory of the nature of human knowledge. Russells attempt to discern what
kinds of knowledge, if any, could be considered reasonably certain is similar to the goal of
Principia Mathematica, which is to find an undeniable reason for believing in the supposed
truths of mathematics. Both branches of Russells workthe mathematical and the more
traditionally philosophicalhave at their heart Russells steadfast devotion to rigorous analysis
and his reluctance to accept any proposition (no matter how obvious or commonsense seeming)
without a concrete, logical reason for doing so.
Beginning with this work and continuing through Our Knowledge of the External World and
beyond, Russell sought to describe the relationship between knowledge, perception, and physics
(the study of the material, physical world). Fundamental to Russells theories was a belief that
the physical world does, in fact, exist. Almost two decades earlier, Russell had rejected idealism
the theory that reality is not physical but exists only in the mindin favor of realism, the

belief that objects exist independently of our perception or experience. The theories of
epistemology described in Problems of Philosophy fit squarely within the British empiricist
tradition, in that they claim that the data gained from personal, immediate experience is the
starting point of all human knowledge. In Russells system, data gained from personal,
immediate experience are termed knowledge by acquaintance.
According to Russell, any proposition we know by description must be wholly made up of
things we know by acquaintance. If we assume this, then there are some consequences for what,
exactly, it is possible to know by description. Suppose you make a proposition about Julius
Caesar: you say, for example, Julius Caesar launched the first Roman invasion of Britain. You
are not actually acquainted with Julius Caesar himself, since you have no direct, immediate
experience of the man. What you hold in your mind is a description of him. You may know of
him as the founder of the Roman Empire, for example, or the man assassinated on the Ides of
March, or the subject of the marble bust in my local library. Thus, when you say, Julius
Caesar launched the first Roman invasion of Britain, youre not really asserting something
about the real Julius Caesaryou cant be, as you have no direct knowledge of him. Instead,
youre asserting something about the collection of facts and ideas about Caesar with which you
are acquainted. No matter how many facts we may learn about Caesar, we can still only know
him by description. We can never reach a point where we directly know him by acquaintance.
The general thrust of this argument foreshadows Russells work in logical atomism, which
argues that statements can be broken down into a series of constituent assumptions. The
argument is also tied to Russells Theory of Descriptions, which explains how definite
descriptionsphrases like that cat, Bill Cosby, or my mother, which refer to specific, particular
objectsare just shorthand for a series of logical claims. Similarly, when we use the phrase
Julius Caesar, were using the name to refer not to the man himself but to a series of facts and
descriptions we have learned about him.
The Problems of Philosophy was meant to be an introduction to the field, and as such, Russells
arguments arent as thorough as we might expect from the founder of analytic philosophy. He
often errs on the side of illustrating his points rather than meticulously mapping them out.
While the book makes strong appeals to common sense, there are still elements that have greatly
troubled critics. One such problem lies with Russells notion of intuitive knowledge. Russell
never satisfactorily explains what, exactly, makes a truth self-evident, and he does not provide
sufficient examples of these intuitive, immediate truths. Russell also provides no plan for
distinguishing between two apparently self-evident truths that nevertheless contradict each other.
The concept of sense-data, as set out by Russell, has also proved problematic. Russell takes it as
a given that sense-data are the building blocks of perception. We look at a table and we sense its
brownness, its hardness, and its rectangularity. From these sense-data, we construct our idea of
the table. Other philosophers argue that, upon seeing a table, we are immediately aware of the
object as a table, and it is only later, when we stop to concentrate on what we see, that we

consciously notice the objects color, its texture, or its shape. According to these thinkers, sensedata as defined by Russell cannot be the most primitive, direct element of experience because it
requires too much conscious effort to be aware of them.
Finally, a major issue in Problems of Philosophy lies in the fact that, to Russell, all knowledge is
built on knowledge by acquaintance, or the things we know through direct, personal experience.
Russell accepts a fundamentally Cartesian point of view, which means he accepts that the proper
foundation for philosophical inquiry is individual consciousness and perspective. But how can a
theory of knowledge be built on private experiences if this theory is supposed to apply to all
beings? This problem (among others) bothered Russell, and in his next major epistemological
work, Our Knowledge of the External World, he begins to push his inquiry into the public sphere.
Bertrand Russell: philosopher, mathematician and optimist

was an intellectual giant of the 20th century who bore witness to his generation's painful
transition from Victorian optimism to postwar trauma. He always believed that ideas could
change the world. He was closely involved in many of the events that shaped world politics
during the first two-thirds of the 20th century. Controversially, he opposed the first world war,
and was a prominent peace activist.
In academic circles he is best known for his pioneering work in mathematics, philosophical logic
and epistemology. As well as bequeathing several important ideas and theories to later
generations of scholars, Russell inaugurated a style of thinking now known as analytic
philosophy, which is still taught in most British philosophy departments.
Instead of examining the more technical aspects of Russell's philosophy, this series will focus on
issues close to the hearts of How to Believe readers: religion and ethics; the human condition and
the modern world; the purpose of philosophy. Russell was gifted writer, and wrote numerous
books and pamphlets for a general audience his History of Western Philosophy is a flawed
classic that continues to introduce non-academic readers to philosophy.
Over the coming weeks we will explore Russell's views in some detail. But those views need to
be understood in the context of his character, his life and his times and Russell himself
provides a riveting account of these in his autobiography. The first page of this book indicates
some of the distinguishing features of his long life: his privilege, his prominence in the public
eye, his testing of moral convention. We are introduced to three-year-old Bertrand in the servants'
hall at Pembroke Lodge, Richmond Park the home given to his grandparents by Queen
Victoria. His parents, recently deceased, had been free-thinkers: his father wrote a lengthy book
called An Analysis of Religion, and "all the British philosophers from Mill downwards" were to
be found at his mother's London salon. They had left Bertrand and his elder brother, Frank, in the
care of two atheist guardians (one of whom had had a relationship with the children's mother),
but Chancery awarded custody of the boys to their less radical grandparents.

Young Bertrand showed an early talent for logic when he argued with his grandmother that "it
was inconsistent to demand at one and the same time that everybody should be well housed, and
yet that no new houses should be built because they were an eyesore." A childhood friend later
remembered "Bertie" as "a solemn little boy in a blue velvet suit" who was "always kind". As a
young man he so sensitive and timid that when he first stayed in Trinity College, Cambridge for
his scholarship examinations he was "too shy to enquire the way to the lavatory, so that [he]
walked every morning to the station before the examination began".
Russell insists that he learnt little from his university tutors: "As an undergraduate I was
persuaded that the dons were a wholly unnecessary part of the university. I derived no benefits
from lectures, and I made a vow to myself that when in due course I became a lecturer I would
not suppose that lecturing did any good. I have kept this vow." However, he learned from his
student friends to be less solemn, and acquired a sense of humour that, judging from his
autobiography, never left him.
Russell's adult life unfolded in a world quite different from the one we know today. For example,
in 1910 he was rejected as a Liberal parliamentary candidate because (he suggests) he professed
himself an agnostic and refused to attend church occasionally for the sake of respectability.
However, in 1949 he was awarded the Order of Merit and in 1950, the Nobel Prize for Literature
which marked, as he puts it, "the apogee of my respectability", and made him feel "slightly
uneasy".
After the second world war Russell campaigned for a "world government" to prevent
international conflict, and he became increasingly concerned by the threat of nuclear war. In
1955 he wrote a peace manifesto with the support of his friend Albert Einstein, to be signed by
leading scientists on both sides of the iron curtain. This document emphasised the need for
cooperation between capitalist and communist powers: it led to a series of conferences during the
late 50s, and eventually to the 1963 limited test ban treaty forbidding nuclear tests above ground
in space or underwater in peace time, a "partial ban" that Russell was disappointed with.
These political developments were accompanied by a turn in the cultural tide: the Campaign for
Nuclear Disarmament was launched in 1958, with Russell as its president. In February 1961 the
philosopher, aged 88, joined thousands in a protest march from Trafalgar Square to Whitehall,
and pinned a notice on to the door of the Ministry of Defence. Later that year Russell was
charged with inciting the public to civil disobedience, and jailed in Brixton prison by a
magistrate who told him that he was "old enough to know better".
At the end of his autobiography Russell reflects that since his youth his "serious" life has had
two distinct aspects: "I wanted, on the one hand, to find out whether anything could be known;
and, on the other hand, to do whatever might be possible toward creating a happier world." Over
the hardest decades of the 20th century his optimism and idealism certainly waned, but were not

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defeated. "I may have thought the road to a world of free and happy human beings shorter than it
is proving to be," he concludes, "but I was not wrong in thinking that such a world is possible."