Pacifist activism flourished in Britain and America during the first half of the twentieth century, and peace was a central preoccupation for writers and intellectuals before and during both world wars. Vera Brittain, Bertrand Russell, George Orwell, Virginia Woolf, Storm Jameson, and Aldous Huxley were all actively engaged in some form of peace writing. This chapter examines this history in the British context, from the impact of conscription during the First World War to the grave challenges to peace of the 1930s. It investigates a variety of texts by conscientious objectors, peace campaigners, feminist pacifists, anti-war poets, public intellectuals, and internationalist reformers. This literary and political history reveals how the notion of peace shifted radically during this period. What began as a moral imperative – inherited from Christian teachings and the liberal legacy of the Enlightenment – was transformed into a secular notion with extensive political potential. As this chapter shows, pacifist thought underpinned arguments towards socio-political reform, and it shaped the language of rights central to political discourse after the Second World War.

This chapter explores the cultural preconditioning through which many visitors to the East viewed and processed events around them in the early twentieth century. It considers how the messaging and tone found in missionary treatments of Chinese society, which mirrored May Fourth writing in striking ways, added urgency to evangelical work by stressing its morally transformative purpose, something missionary writing shared with revolutionary agitation. On asserting the primacy of Western beneficence and valuation of life, missionaries were joined by more secular and celebrated writers, including Bertrand Russell, Somerset Maugham and Alexis Leger (aka St.-John Perse). In the broader logic of colonialism, the idea that benevolence was practiced or not, or suffering alleviated or not, became a key criterion with which cultures and peoples were categorised in the hierarchy of nations. Chinese writers during May Fourth in turn embraced and internalized such dichotomies in a form of sociological coproduction. In the paradigm to which many reformist writers subscribed, Chinese culture precluded the very idea of assisting strangers or of mitigating social ills in any meaningful way. Western power over the Chinese was thus attributed in part to civic cultures and day-to-day values lacking in Chinese communities.

This chapter presents the descriptivist theories at the roots of contemporary semantics, and the epistemic puzzles about meaning which had led Frege, Russell, and Carnap to endorse them.

Although the received view of Ernst Mach comported well with Mach’s historical influence on members of the Vienna Circle , it is inadequate, and it is now giving way to a more realistic and nuanced ‘neutral monist’ view. I defend the neutral monist tradition and show that it is actually a form of scientific realism, not positivism. I also argue that it is more in line with Mach’s contemporary reception, and that it leads to the views of American Realists, as well as to the views of our contemporary neutral monists. I start with a characterisation of some tenets of neutral monism in general, many of which were shared by William James and Bertrand Russell, both deeply influenced by Mach. I then detail the evidence for these views in Mach’s texts (including his notebooks and other documents). Seeing Mach as a kind of realist also casts much light on his scientific views and corrects a number of historical misconceptions regarding both atomism and Mach’s philosophy of space and time. Finally, I discuss Mach’s place in the neutral monist movement of James, Russell, and the American Realists, and the revival of these views in recent philosophy of mind.

This introduction shows why and how common sense matters to philosophy, thus lighting up the terrain that subsequent chapters explore in much greater detail. First, it explains briefly what common sense is, and next, what common-sense philosophy is. Then it considers whether, and if so, how, common sense should matter to philosophy; can we not do without common sense? Subsequently, it turns to criticisms of the idea that common sense matters to philosophy, and of the very idea of common-sense philosophy. It concludes with a short note on the organization of the book.

Woolf calls Hardy “the greatest tragic writer among English novelists,” and I argue that she shares his tragic sense. Both a “Dionysiac” view of time as unceasing flux (the view held by Friedrich Nietzsche, Jane Ellen Harrison, and Henri Bergson) and a mathematical view of time as abstract continuum (the view held by Bertrand Russell) make for tragedy in Woolf’s fiction. Her novels are devoid of the ritual and mythic consolations so often misattributed to ancient drama. Woolf’s Dionysiac time is severed from Dionysiac rituals’ cyclical renewals. Woolf’s mathematical time is severed from redemptive myth. Like Darwin, Woolf makes tragic chance inseparable from the theater of life. Woolf depicts the nonteleological, nonanthropocentric change and persistence of nonhuman nature, as well as the inhuman permanence of Russell’s “universals.” To the Lighthouse and The Waves set the “still space” of characters’ most cherished moments against “the waste of ages and the perishing of the stars.” Woolf’s fiction accentuates time’s passing and models characters’ Sisyphean resistance to it.

Facing a complex set of global threats to our future, how do we find a way forward? It is clearly necessary to strengthen the capacity to enforce international law, to reform legal institutions and current mechanisms of international cooperation, which have turned out to be largely inadequate to manage the challenges that we face. Indeed, the United Nations itself and the specialized agencies created to attend to a variety of global problems find themselves increasingly unable to respond to crises, partly due to the lack of appropriate jurisdiction or mandate to act, sometimes because they are inadequately endowed with resources or because, within the limits of existing conceptual frameworks, they simply do not know what to do. A substantial and carefully thought-through reform effort is needed to enhance dramatically the basic architecture of our global governance system, grounded on fundamental points of law already agreed by states worldwide, and upon foundational principles embedded in the current international order. Such efforts need to strike the right balance between proposals that are so ambitious as to have negligible chances of being seriously considered and proposals that are seen as more “politically feasible” but that fail to find meaningful solutions to urgent contemporary problems.