1. Aim and Scope of this Paper.—In this paper I shall try to show that “duty” derives its significance from its relation to “interest,” and that the former concept cannot be understood when taken apart from its relation to the latter. Such a doctrine is, I am aware, rejected by some contemporary philosophers; and I shall, I trust, make it sufficiently clear in the sequel why I am unable to accept their view.

I am not, however, concerned primarily with criticism of other theories. This paper represents an attempt to interpret a particular province of “the common moral consciousness” and to elicit the principles there implied. I begin by accepting the view that, like natural science, ethics has its data, and that it is the business of ethics to interpret these data which are the contents of the “moral consciousness.” In Section A I discuss various methods which may be used for the discovery of the relevant data, and suggest that initial enquiries can most fruitfully be pursued in the field of law and custom. In Section B I undertake an analysis of the principles of the law relating to promise-keeping. As a result of what is there found, it becomes necessary, in Section C, to discuss the nature of rights and their relation to interests, and, in Section D, the nature of duties and their relation to rights.

Sir Herbert Samuel gave his Presidential Address to the Members of the Institute at University College on January 22nd. There was a large attendance. He took as his subject “Philosophy, Religion, and Present World Conditions.”

In this paper I ask whether in Aristotle's metaphysical system the form of a non-living sensible substance, such as the form of this house, is or is not universal. I argue that his position as it stands is self-contradictory, and then try to give some account of the pressures that led to this central contradiction in Aristotle's metaphysical thought.

Discussing what Wittgenstein means by ‘the use’ of an expression, Dr Kenny writes:

Does a word have a use provided that it can fit into acceptable sentences, or does its use have to make some difference in the world ? Wittgenstein's two favourite similes point in opposite directions. A game, like chess, has only syntactical rules; what goes on in chess has no effect on the world except indirectly through the consequence of winning and losing.

There are many possible ways of approach to philosophy, and there is also an impossible one, though one that has often been tried. That the philosopher can somehow spin his philosophy out of what he finds inside himself; that he has some private internal source of information in virtue of which he can decide what the Universe must be, without needing to take the trouble to look at it, is a belief that dies hard. But it is now dying, if not dead, so that it is hardly necessary to refute it in detail. It should suffice to say that anybody who cherishes the belief will not find anything to interest him in what follows. I shall simply assume that the philosopher is, what we all are to some extent, a spectator of the world and of man's life in it and a commentator on what he sees. Where the philosopher differs from others is in the kind of interest he takes in the facts, not in the kind of facts that are there to be interested in.

Times have changed since Pfleiderer, in 1883, after summing up Neoplatonism in three contemptuous sentences, concludes, “In this convulsed state, entirely destitute of contents, consciousness has disappeared, and with it the very possibility of the religious relation, in favour of an orgiastic tumult of feeling.” Had Pfleiderer ever read a word of Plotinus or Proclus? If not, he had many to keep him company among the philosophers of his generation, though to be sure, Hegel, Schopenhauer, and Hartmann realized the importance of the latest era in Greek philosophy. Jowett, in his introductions to Plato, never shows the slightest interest in what Platonism became under the Roman Empire. Edward Caird had certainly read Plotinus; but his lectures upon him in his Evolution of Theology in the Greek Philosophers, though highly praised at the time, are even more misleading than the ignorant neglect of writers like Pfleiderer.

In a philosophical paper the point one wishes to make should be stated at the very outset. And in dealing with a problem which is as controversial as religion, the bias should be confessed before any points are made. I want to conform at once to both these requirements. I want to discuss beliefs, ordinary beliefs but mainly religious ones, for the expression of which, oddly enough, we use the same word. “Belief” and “Faith” are admittedly different in English, but many languages possess only one word for these and further I shall try to show that even in English the difference is not very great and that they have, if not the same, at least a very similar logical grammar. The point of my argument is that beliefs can be discussed rationally and that they should be so discussed. Religious arguments have been going on for a very long time, and I find it incredible that people of immense intellectual qualities, who devoted their time and energy to these discussions, have been working under a simple delusion, not understanding the very nature of the thing they were doing.

The following is an attempted answer to the question: in what kind of world is learning from experience possible? The method is to build up imaginatively a world until what has in general outline been constructed is such as to permit the kind of learning by experience with which we are all familiar. We may hope that some interesting facts even now may emerge from a consideration of this trite subject. Not all that we know has been learnt from experience, though, no doubt, anything we know, if it has come to our notice, has done so in the course of experience. With this truth we are not concerned. Our subject is what is called “empirical science”; but by sometimes calling it by the homelier name appearing in the title of this paper, we may remind ourselves that we are not dealing with a specialist branch of knowledge or a technical subject, but with what is a necessary feature of even the most commonplace experience.