The Closing of the Western Mind: The Rise of Faith and the Fall of Reason

The Closing of the Western Mind: The Rise of Faith and the Fall of Reason

by Charles Freeman


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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781400033805
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Publication date: 02/08/2005
Edition description: Reprint
Pages: 480
Sales rank: 233,191
Product dimensions: 5.20(w) x 7.99(h) x 0.97(d)

About the Author

Charles Freeman is the author of The Greek Achievement and Egypt, Greece, and Rome. He lives in Suffolk, England.

Read an Excerpt

Thomas Aquinas and "the triumph of faith"

A monk in the black-and-white habit of the Dominicans sits in a niche set within an elaborate columned edifice crowned by a vault. Carved on the panels either side of him are fasces, rods bound together, a symbol of authority that reaches back through the history of ancient Rome to the Etruscans. Conventionally, as those who are attuned to the more sinister aspects of modern European history will be all too well aware, an axe is fixed within the bundle, but here it is omitted and the fasces are lit. Even in ancient times the presence of the axe was associated with tyrannical authority, so the omission suggests a deliberate attempt to evoke an authority that is benign rather than menacing. A setting in Rome is confirmed by the views behind the imposing structure. On one side there is part of St. John Lateran, the cathedral church of Rome, fronted by an equestrian statue believed in the 1480s, the date of this fresco, to be of the emperor Constantine, its founder. On the other is the Porta Ripa Grande, the port alongside the river Tiber in Rome. The fresco itself is in the Carafa Chapel in Santa Maria Sopra Minerva, a Dominican church in the city. Even if the fasces are not menacing, one aspect of the fresco nevertheless is. The monk crushes a scowling old man beneath his feet. The old man is a personification of evil, and he clutches a banner with the Latin inscription "Wisdom conquers evil." The monk himself is none other than the great Dominican theologian Thomas Aquinas (c. 1225-74). Above him in a roundel are the verses from the Book of Proverbs with which he chose to begin one of his finest works, the Summa contra gentiles, "a summary of the case against the heretics": "For my mouth shall speak truth and wickedness is an abomination to my lips." Also above him, on panels held by putti, appears a declaration of the importance of the revealed word of God: "The revelation of Thy words gives light; it gives understanding to the simple." The most important text, however, must be that which Thomas has selected to hold in his left hand; it is from the Apostle Paul, sapientiam sapientum perdam, "I will destroy the wisdom of the wise." As this book will suggest, the phrase, supported by other texts of Paul which condemn the "empty logic of the philosophers," was the opening shot in the enduring war between Christianity and science.

Here Thomas is in a position of authority, defending the revelatory power of God against "the wisdom of the wise." Yet this "wisdom" is allowed some place. Alongside the saint sit four further personifications, in order from the left, those of Philosophy, Theology, Grammar and Dialectic. Philosophy (largely the study of formal logic), grammar and dialectic (the art of disputation) were the first subjects of the traditional medieval curriculum. However, though they may appear at ease alongside Thomas, they are clearly subordinate to the word of God, as preliminaries that had to be mastered before any advanced study in theology, the longest and most challenging course, could begin. Theology's prominence over the others is shown here by her crown and her hand raised to heaven, as well as by her position immediately to the right of Thomas.

Below Thomas and his intellectual companions two groups of men stand back from a clutter of books and manuscripts. A debate has been in progress, and it seems that its settlement has resulted in a disposal of discarded arguments. The reference here is to the fourth and fifth centuries, when the empire, newly if not fully Christianized, was rocked with debate over the nature of Jesus and his relationship with God. The Arians (followers of Arius) claimed that Jesus was a distinct and lower creation, divine perhaps but not fully God. At the opposite extreme, the followers of Sabellius, a Roman cleric, claimed that the Godhead was one and Jesus on earth was only a temporary manifestation of that Godhead, in no way distinct from it. In the fresco Arius stands on the left, a serious and thoughtful man as tradition records, wearing yellow robes. In front of him a book bearing the words of his thesis, "There was a time when the Son was not," lies condemned. Sabellius, shown as an austere Roman in a red robe, gazes down on his work with its own heretical assertion, that the Father is not to be distinguished from the Son, likewise condemned. Other heretics, including the Persian Mani (to the right of Sabellius in a furred hood), to whose sect St. Augustine belonged before his conversion to Christianity, are in the crowd. These heretics had all been subject to specific refutation by Thomas in his works. What Thomas now upholds is the final solution to the issue, the doctrine of the Trinity. God the Father, Jesus the Son and the Holy Spirit have distinct personalities within a single Godhead. It is a doctrine, as Thomas himself wrote in his other great work, the Summa theologiae, that cannot be upheld by reason, but only through faith.

The "triumph of faith," as depicted here by the Florentine painter Filippino Lippi, reflects the theme of this book. "Faith" is a complex concept, but whether it is trust in what cannot be seen, belief in promises made by God, essentially a declaration of loyalty or a virtue, it involves some kind of acquiescence in what cannot be proved by rational thought. What makes faith a difficult concept to explore is that it has both theological and psychological elements. At a psychological level one could argue that faith must exist in any healthy mind. If we cannot trust anyone, have any optimism that "all will be well," we cannot live full lives. Such faith will include positive responses to individuals, as evinced by those who met and travelled with Jesus. Here we cross a conceptual boundary because faith in Jesus, and in particular in the saving nature of his crucifixion and resurrection as taught by Paul, was of a different order from faith in the general sense that "all will be well." With the elaboration of Christian doctrine, faith came to mean acquiescence in the teachings of the churches-to be seen as a virtue in itself.

In the fourth and fifth centuries a.d., however, faith in this last sense achieved prominence over reason. The principles of empirical observation or logic were overruled in the conviction that all knowledge comes from God and even, in the writings of Augustine, that the human mind, burdened with Adam's original sin, is incapable of thinking for itself. For centuries any form of independent scientific thinking was suppressed. Yet, and this is the paradox of the Carafa fresco, it was actually Thomas, through reviving the works of Aristotle, who brought reason back into theology and hence into western thought. Once again it was possible for rational thought and faith to co-exist. We will meet the other Thomas, the Thomas who champions reason alongside faith, in the final chapter of this book.

We begin by returning to ancient Greece and exploring in particular how reason became established as an intellectual force in western culture. Then we can see how Christianity, under the influential banner of Paul's denunciation of Greek philosophy, began to create the barrier between science-and rational thought in general-and religion that appears to be unique to Christianity. Far from the rise of science challenging the Christian concept of God (as is often assumed by protagonists in the debate), it was Christianity that actively challenged a well-established and sophisticated tradition of scientific thinking.

The quest for certainty

The investigation of the truth is in one way hard, in another easy. An indication of this is found in the fact that no one is able to attain the truth adequately, while, on the other hand, no one fails entirely, but everyone says something true about the nature of things, and while individually they contribute little or nothing to the truth, by the union of all a considerable amount is amassed.


On his long journey home from Troy to his wife, Penelope, in Ithaca, Odysseus, the hero of Homer's Odyssey, was swept from his ship through the fury of Poseidon, the god of earthquakes and the sea, who had turned against him. Luckily, the goddess Leukothea, who lived in the depths of the sea, took pity on him and offered him a magic scarf that, when bound around him, would protect him, while the goddess Athena calmed the waves so that he could swim towards the shores of the land of the Phaeacians. In this crisis Odysseus still had to make his own decisions, in the short term at what moment he should leave the timbers of his ship and strike for shore. A massive wave sent by Poseidon made the decision for him, and he found himself swimming without any support. The coast came into view, but it was rugged. Is it better, Odysseus wondered, to land where he can and risk being crushed against the cliffs by a wave, or continue onwards in his exhaustion in the hopes of finding a sandy bay?

Odysseus' ordeal ended happily. He was washed ashore and rescued by the beautiful Nausicaa, daughter of the Phaeacian king. He was saved by two goddesses who successfully challenged another god, Poseidon. So here is a man at the mercy of divine forces who nevertheless retained the power to think rationally and who saw rational thought as a means of bettering his chances. One can hardly say this is a revolutionary step; archaeological evidence from South African caves shows that individuals were able to provide "rational" adaptations to their changing environment (in the sense of adapting their tools) as long as 70,000 years ago. What is important is that Homer distinguishes rational thought, even at this primitive, almost instinctive level, as a mental activity, independent of the whim of the gods.

This is the mental landscape of Greece in the eighth century or earlier-the Odyssey took its final form about 725 b.c. from much older oral traditions-but it is a world that is passing. Odysseus is an aristocrat, a king in his land of Ithaca, where he has palaces and cattle. His wife, Penelope, though vulnerable without him, has her own status. When they are finally reunited, they enjoy each other's conversation as equals before they make together for the royal bed. Emerging is the world of the Greek city state, where, from the eighth century, one finds communities making focused settlements, typically with their own sacred spaces and public arenas. There is a shift, probably as a result of population increase, from the "aristocratic" extravagance of cattle farming to more intensive cultivation, of olives, cereals and vines. A peasant economy emerges based on a free citizenry relying on slaves

for extra labour. Women are now segregated, the aristocratic palace replaced by the enclosed home, which, unlike Penelope's palace in Ithaca, contains no allotted space in which women can appear before strangers. Fighting is no longer between aristocratic heroes meeting in single combat but between massed phalanxes of hoplites (the word comes from hoplon, a shield), made up of the peasantry, who fight side by side with each other and overwhelm their opponents by sheer weight and determination.

Population increase and political infighting encouraged settlement overseas, and the city state, or polis as it was known in Greek, proved eminently exportable throughout the Mediterranean. One finds the same structure, domestic areas, public meeting places and a demarcated area, the temenos, for temples and sacrificial altars, in most Greek cities. Remarkably, despite the fragmentation and extent of settlement, there remained a common sense of Greek culture, sustained by religious festivals, many of them with games, oracles and centres of pilgrimage, at which Greeks from across the Mediterranean gathered.

The number and frequency of such festivals reflects the intensely spiritual nature of the ancient Greeks. They had a powerful sense of the sacred, often personified in gods and goddesses, elaborated in myth and celebrated at an enormous number of shrines, some natural such as caves and springs, others opulent temple complexes. Their gods remained close to them, traditionally portrayed in human form and displaying behaviour which was often all too human in its fits of jealousy and anger. Among the twelve Olympian gods the full spectrum of human life was represented, from the wild excess of emotion (Dionysus) to the calm exercise of reason (Apollo), from the lustful enjoyment of sex (Aphrodite) to virgin modesty (Artemis). Each god or goddess played a number of roles, accumulated from different traditions both inside and outside Greece. So Zeus, the father of the gods, could act as lord of the skies, as a bringer of victory, a symbol of sexual potency, the upholder of rulers and the god of thunder and lightning. Alongside the Olympian gods there was a mass of lesser deities, such as Pan, the god of shepherds, and local heroes with a range of roles. Ancient Greece vibrated with spiritual presences.

Mediation with the gods took place through prayer and sacrifice. The sacrifice was the central point of almost every ritual. An animal-an ox, sheep, goat or pig-would be presented to the gods and then killed, burnt and eaten by the community. Sacrifices were not an aberrant or cruel activity-they were a sophisticated way of dealing with the necessity of killing animals in order to eat. In fact, the rituals surrounding sacrifice suggest that the Greeks felt some unease about killing animals they had reared themselves. So the illusion was created that an animal went to its death willingly, and before the killing all present threw a handful of barley at it, as if the community as a whole was accepting responsibility for the death. At the moment of the slaughter women would utter impassioned cries, again a recognition of the seriousness of what was being done in taking life. This was a common theme in ritual, also found in Greek tragic drama, an awareness that any transition involved a loss that had to be recognized within the ritual itself. There was also a strong belief that through the maintaining of the round of rituals the city had been protected. As one Athenian citizen put it in a public debate:

Our ancestors by sacrificing in accordance with the tablets of Solon [laws instituted in the early sixth century] have handed down to us a city superior in greatness and prosperity to any other in Greece so that it behooves us to perform the same sacrifices as they did if for no other reason than that of the success which has resulted from these rites.

From the Hardcover edition.

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The Closing of the Western Mind: The Rise of Faith and the Fall of Reason 4.3 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 22 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
An excellent work describing Christianity's ongoing attempt to stop not only science and technology, but free thinking in general. How the world of the Greek rationalists was replaced by superstition at the behest of those seeking power.
Lonka More than 1 year ago
Finally a book that does not shy away from exposing the devious practices of State and Church during the early years of Christianity. The reader will learn how greed and the hunger for power and status repaced both Greek moral responsibility and Jesus' message of love. The truth was twisted not only with fabricated lies, but also through bad translation. This resulted in a society where debate was forbidden, personal responsibility rejected, and the search for empirical knowledge declared heresy. I want to recommend this book to anyone who is in search for the truth during the first 500 years of Christianity.
Nicole Cater More than 1 year ago
This is a hard read, no way around it. But for anyone questioning how we got to where we are now, it is a must. An open mind is a requirement to read this book. I found myself with a different belief system after finishing this book. I won't say it shook my foundations but it did open my eyes. If you would like to have enlightened learned opinions instead of just blindly follow like sheep, I recommend starting with this book.
nbmars on LibraryThing 23 days ago
Well-researched, important work on the rise of Christianity and the concomitant stifling of rational thought that accompanied it in the 4th and 5th centuries AD. Freeman gives a detailed history on the sources and authories for the materials we now refer to as the Synoptic Gospels and New Testament. Texts comprising the New Testament were selected from many competing texts on the basis of their conformity with evolving doctrine. The notion of direct revelation was rejected in favor of these select texts. Further, as Christianity spread, there was an increasing stress on institutional hierarchy. Power claims throughout Constantine's Empire were played out as doctrinal schisms, giving the claimants a divine authority. With the Emperor's favor of one doctrine over another, conforming bishops came to have access to vast wealth, prestige and influence and in turn, Constantine got support for his Empire. Heavenly truth was now intimately associated with earthly power. Gone were the Greek and Hebraic traditions in which there are many ways to the truth; Christian doctrine established that wisdom rests with God alone (and his favored interpreters). By the end of the fourth century the silencing of debate extended beyond the spiritual and across the whole intellectual spectrum. Basil, the Bishop of Caesarea, echoed St. Paul's condemnation of "the philosophers" by exhorting ""let us Christians prefer the simplicity of our faith to the demonstrations of human reason..." Without any theory of note, Christianity in the fifth century lapsed into defining itself, much as Paul had done, largely in terms of its enemies (read: Jews, pagans, and heretical Christians). In his Epilogue, Freeman remarks that "The troubles described in this book come not from the teachings of Jesus or from the nature of Christians themselves (though arguably one can trace them to Paul), but from the determination to make "certain" statements about God. ... If there is no external standard by which one can define God, then figures who have the authority to define him for others have to be created and this authority given idological support. This invariably means the suppression of freedom of independent thought." In other words, power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely. But Freeman tells the story in a fascinating, detailed way, and doesn't lose our interest in spite of its scholarly tone. It is worth comparing this reading to "No God But God" by Reza Azlan for a very analogous exposition of the Muslim experience.(JAF)
peterwall on LibraryThing 23 days ago
The Closing of the Western Mind is a long and detailed argument, which might be easier to follow if one began with the Epilogue. But Charles Freeman begins instead with a late 15th century fresco called "The Triumph of Faith," by Filippino Lippi, which depicts Thomas Aquinas, triumphant over heretics and philosophy alike. The reference is somewhat ironic; Freeman returns to Aquinas in his final chapter, to observe his rehabilitation of Greek reason, through the integration of Aristotle into Christian theology, which was so successful "that he unwittingly laid the foundations of the scientific revolution that was to transform western thought." (Page 328.) And in his Epilogue, Freeman makes it clear that wants to explain why the legacy of Greek rational thought needed rehabilitation in the first place, but without making the "simplistic" argument that Christians just suppressed it. (Page 339.)The journey to the closing of the Western mind proceeded by innumerable steps over several centuries, through processes more than just theological or intellectual. Political forces were at work, too, and Freeman argues that "[t]he important question to answer is why Christianity was different from other spiritual movements in the ancient world in insisting that Christians throughout the empire should adhere to a common authority." (Page 336.) He argues that the demand for orthodoxy was prompted by a need for social stability in the midst of the disintegrating Roman Empire, but was also carried along, to a lesser extent, by the problem of group identification, which was difficult in a cosmopolitan new religion that was open to all, without regard to traditional social markers like race or ethnicity.During the first five centuries of Christianity, when the Greek ways of rational inquiry held greater sway, the continuous eruption of doctrinal disputes threatened the unity of the movement. Emperors, needing the assistance of the bishops to maintain order, called the famous councils¿at Nicaea, Constantinople, Ephesus, and Chalcedon¿to quell the riotous arguments and establish authoritative doctrines to which bishops would adhere in order to receive patronage. Ultimately, under Pope Gregory ("the Great"), in the sixth century, the doctrinal identity of the western church was consolidated and history was rewritten, to expunge "the political dimension to the making of Christian doctrine," as Freeman puts it. (Page 339.) Rather than recognized as evolving in a political, theological, philosophical, and social pressure-cooker, those consolidated Christian doctrines were posited as having existed for all time, producing the oddity that even the patriarchs¿Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob¿are said to have known the Trinity. (See page 313.) This rewritten history persists today, especially within the Catholic church, where the ancient "heresies" are understood not as simply on the losing side of history, but as having espoused obvious theological falsehoods, which were rooted out by people who were appointed by God to stamp out heresy, not by people who became authorities simply by virtue of being the political and historical victors. (And there the adage that history is written by the victors is fully true.)So Freeman has dug into the recent scholarship to write a history of the formation of Christianity that has the refreshing virtue of reading the source material far more evenhandedly than church-aligned historians do. The historical players in this book do not come across like their craven and bastardized descendants in modern fundamentalism, who make a conscious effort to suppress any ideas that conflict with their beliefs simply because of the conflict. Instead, the people who laid the foundations for the doctrines that later became the fodder for fundamentalists come across in Freeman's argument as people who struggled to solve other kinds of problems, of a more immediate nature, like how to maintain social order and reconcile conflicting ideas
dougwood57 on LibraryThing 23 days ago
In a single volume Charles Freeman manages to cover the intellectual and theological development of the West and Christianity from Plato and Aristotle through Augustine. He tells this story in some detail and generally holds the reader's interest. Freeman explores the Synoptic Gospels (single vision) of Matthew, Mark and Luke and contrasts them with the role of Paul in developing Christian theology. The arcane yet heated and sometimes violent debates over the divine nature of Jesus that led to the development of the Nicene Creed are also covered in detail. Christianity slowly builds toward an orthodoxy. Augustine gifts a swift and muscular push to this orthodoxy as he firmly establishes the doctrines of Original Sin and predestination. Freeman's discussion of Augustine is the highlight of the book. Finally in the penultimate chapter, Freeman directly addresses the impact of Christian orthodoxy on other Christian variants as well as the denigration of rational thought as represented by the Greeks and the pursuit of knowledge of the natural world. The book's title and the booknote on the back cover of the paperback, however, led this reader to expect that this brief exploration would be the subject of the the bulk of the book. Instead Freeman primarily explores the development of Christian theology that ultimately led to Roman Catholic orthodoxy. The manner and mechanisms by which this orthodoxy shut off rational thought is given far too little space. I believe traditional history accords a significant role to the Vandals and Goths in the destruction of classical culture. Freeman does not explain to what extent if any, he believes the 'barbarian' invasions and the destruction of the Roman empire, which occurred in the same time period, also contributed to the closing of the Western mind.
ablueidol on LibraryThing 25 days ago
Explores the relationship of key strands of Christianity with the Roman state in the 4th century and the subsequent impact on Christianity and the Greco-Roman world of that relationship. Essentially the state enforced doctrinal unity for the sake of political unity as the Roman Empire crumbled. As a consequence in the West but less so in the East much of the intellectual and religious heritage of the non Christian majority was destroyed or suppressed. Much of the tolerance and sexual freedoms were also suppressed. As a consequence "truth" became as the developing Catholic and Orthodox Church said rather than reason or practical observation and so intellectual progress in the west froze until essentially the Renaissance. The interesting what if is the fate of a Christianity that is not embraced by the state. How does it survive the collapse of the west? Does the west collapse earlier? In which case what is the fate of the east one of the reasons it services is the Huns could live off the pickings of the West and so the EAST can buy time to make them allies. It does and they are the mainstay of its armies for several centuries. This then leads to a what if re the rise and spread of Islam in this world of weak political areas that are a continuity with Greco-Roman culture. The franks for example accepted and adopted a lot of the roman way of life so without Christianity as the dominant force what would have evolved over the 200 years between the collapses and the arrival of Islam( if it arrives at all)
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MDBuchholtz More than 1 year ago
The premise is easy enough to believe: the marriage of the Roman Empire to a religion based on revelation as the only source of true knowledge all but put an end to rational secular discourse and "the wisdom of the wise," but Freeman here goes deeper than simply blaming the Church for the cultural stagnation of the ensuing Dark Ages. Synthesizing analyses of the histories of Greece and Rome, pagan philosophy, and Christian theology, he deftly provides a well-informed study of the formation of the Church and explores the relationship between Christianity and paganism throughout the quite political process of establishing orthodoxy. A host of lovely graphics and clear (if occasionally winding) prose drive it home. While Freeman doesn't withhold his judgment about the conventional history of the early Church or its values in general, the book is more cold indictment than fiery polemic, and while some fans of the "good old religion" might wag their fingers at a less-than-admirable characterization of a few of the Church Fathers, the author keeps his cool and sticks to the facts. True to the title, the book's focus is on the birth and expansion of Christian hegemony in Europe, so while the kid gloves come off for profiles of Ambrose and the troubled ascetics, it doesn't have much to say about the 1,000-year intellectual vacuum between Augustine and Aquinas. And that's exactly the point.
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Guest More than 1 year ago
I'm reading the book in anticipation of validation of my belief that Christianity lacks credibility. The best notion is on page 120 where Freeman opines that Apostle Paul uses rhetoric to proclaim that believing in reason over faith in Christ will damn you to stupidity. At first I loved that but after apologetic debate with a die hard Christian I have tabled my biased journey to deface Christian credibility because the credibility resides in the interpretation of the reader and not Freeman. Is that because Christianity is right? No, its because you can pull two apostles out of the bible and justify the opposite position. I'll water my grass for an hour but I won't spend 5 minutes searching for a Christian psalm to prove Christianity right. That sounds like marketing and I can't get excited about marketing. On page 120 Freeman uses quotes but opines instead of paraphrase. I am not verifying the rest of his quotes but I will take secularist writing and Christian writing with a grain of salt. This is Freemans opine: Romans 1:21-22 'the more stupid they grew...they made non sense out of logic and their empty minds were darkened'. Well if you look at Romans 1:21-22 you see something else which means you are taking back his opinion and not your own. Romans 21:22: 21 For although they knew God, they neither glorified him as God nor gave thanks to him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened. 22 Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools 23 and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like mortal man and birds and animals and reptiles. Ah, I'll finish the book but I will give up the biased witch aint my bag.