This article argues for a reassessment of James Mill's anticlerical, and possibly atheistic, brand of secularism. Mill's well-known religious skepticism and criticism of the Church of England, it is suggested, have tended to obscure his otherwise dispassionate assessment of religion as a social phenomenon. The article traces Mill's lifelong belief that religious improvement was a necessary precondition to societal progress, from his first major publication in 1805 to his late advocacy of a tolerant state religion in 1835. In this, Mill differed starkly from Jeremy Bentham, who considered all religious beliefs harmful and whose utopian utilitarian society was secular rather than tolerant. The article contends that eighteenth-century Scottish enquiries into human manners and religious progress directly inspired Mill's lifelong ambition to use religion as a tool to reform manners and create the educated public opinion he believed was indispensable to the enactment of his democratic and utilitarian programme.

This article considers the philosophical foundations of the French Enlightenment through a close study of the Stoic influences on the Marquis de Condorcet's education philosophy. The article argues that although Condorcet did not acknowledge any direct Stoic influence, his philosophy of education nevertheless should be understood in the eclectic idiom of eighteenth-century Stoic discourse. Furthermore, Condorcet's Stoicism was entirely compatible with Rousseau's Stoicism to the degree that one could call Condorcet a Rousseauean at least in matters of education theory—even though Condorcet, a protégé of Voltaire, is usually presented as a critic of Rousseau. Finally, the article suggests that the notion of liberty that Condorcet seeks to make flourish through his national education plan is in line with the Stoic ideal of rational autonomy, despite Condorcet's insistence that the modern idea of liberty (that is, his own idea) is fundamentally different from the ancient idea.

Josiah Tucker, who was the Anglican dean of Gloucester from 1758 until his death in 1799, is best known today as a controversialist, a political economist and a lesser contemporary of Adam Smith. Little attention has been paid, however, to the important relationship between his religious writings and his wider economic thought. This article addresses this lack of attention in two ways: first by demonstrating the link between Tucker's conception of civil and religious liberty and his “science” of political economy, and second by drawing sustained attention to his economic adaptation and reformulation of the moral philosophy of Bishop Joseph Butler, Tucker's ecclesiastical mentor from 1739 to 1752. Emphasizing Butler and Tucker's views on the traditional Christian virtue of charity, and the moral duty of the rich towards the poor, the article suggests that both clergymen were proponents of a sociability-based, neo-Stoic conception of human nature, which was not only compatible with, but also dependent upon, the established Anglican Church and state and the predominantly Whig commercial order. In consequence, Tucker's political economy was premised on the unavoidability of social subordination and economic inequality as necessary hallmarks of modern commercial society. Accordingly, the article closes with a brief discussion of Tucker's “Butlerian” assessment and rejection of the “anti-social” doctrine of individual natural rights, associated with the popular radicalism of the American and French Revolutions in the latter half of the eighteenth century.

While the word “liberalism” only appeared in Britain from the 1820s, this article argues that its prehistory must pay attention to the language of “liberality.” It suggests that until the 1760s, to be “liberal,” and to demonstrate “liberality,” were primarily associated with the exercise of charity, but that thereafter they increasingly came to refer to having an open mind: there were frequent appeals to the “liberal” and “enlightened” spirit of the times. Those latitudinarians and Dissenters pushing for more toleration in the 1770s were particularly attracted to “liberal” language, and pioneered the idea that “liberality of sentiment” was a necessary accompaniment to the pluralism thrown up by the right of private judgment. Only from the mid-1790s did anti-Jacobins start to fixate on this terminology, arguing that liberality was insidious because under the cover of a virtue it nurtured the indifference which enabled the enemies of religion to triumph. These arguments did not appeal beyond orthodox circles, but they indicate how established the language of “liberality” had become—it provides a framework for understanding the reception of “liberalism” after 1815.

Through an analysis and historical contextualization of Gujarati writer Karsandas Mulji's Travels in England (1866), this article makes two interrelated arguments. First, Indian liberals' efforts to translate notions of liberty exposed the gap between liberalism's subtractive and additive projects, its abolition of customary constraints on the subject and its imposition of new constraints. Second, Mulji's travelogue suggests the complexity of anthropology in post-1850s India, when an amateur form of social science persisted alongside the emergence of the ethnographic state. As an amateur ethnologist, Mulji drew freely on source material from Henry Mayhew to Samuel Smiles to present England as a moral template for India. His turn to self-help or self-improvement literature, moreover, suggests the global scope of a mid-Victorian ethical culture that set the stage for the ethical concerns of anticolonial thinkers like M. K. Gandhi.

This article examines a previously unexplored chapter in the history of atheism: its close links with nineteenth-century racial anthropology. These links are apparent especially in many atheists’ interest in polygenesis, the theory that human races had separate origins, in contrast to the orthodox Christian doctrine of monogenesis that said all races descended from Adam and Eve. The article's focus is Charles Bradlaugh (1833–91), arguably the most important British atheist of the era, representing the radical working-class, secularist movement that emerged in mid-nineteenth-century Britain. The article charts the ways Bradlaugh and other atheists used the research on polygenesis from leading scientific racists in both Britain and the United States to critique Christianity. It also explores some of the contradictions of this use, namely the ways polygenesis clashed with Darwinism and a longer chronology of the age of the Earth. Finally, the article explores how polygenist ideas informed Bradlaugh's imperial worldview and notes that, despite his acceptance of polygenesis, Bradlaugh was a supporter of the rights of nonwhites in the British Empire, particularly in India.

H. G. Wells was one of the most celebrated writers in the world during the first half of the twentieth century. Famed for his innovative fiction, he was also an influential advocate of socialism and the world-state. What is much less well known is that he was a significant contributor to debates about the nature of social science. This article argues that Wells's account of social science in general, and sociology in particular, was shaped by an idiosyncratic philosophical pragmatism. In order to demonstrate how his philosophical arguments inflected his social thought, it explores his attack on prevailing theories of race, while also highlighting the limits of his analysis. The article concludes by tracing the reception of Wells's ideas among social scientists and political thinkers on both sides of the Atlantic. Although his program for utopian sociology attracted few disciples, his arguments about the dynamics of modern societies found a large audience.

This article explores the ideas of a key thinker of the International Working Men's Association in the 1860s and 1870s. César De Paepe, recognized by contemporaries as a major advocate of “collectivism,” attempted to justify social property as the logical consequence both of mutualist justice and of economic necessity. His theories played a significant role in informing the programs of other socialists in the turbulent 1870s, and sustained the successes of the Belgian workers’ party into the twentieth century. While historians focus on Marx and Bakunin or posit a break between “early” and “late” socialism, the study of De Paepe's writings in context draws attention to neglected themes in the intellectual development of modern socialism, and suggests that “utopianism” could underwrite practical politics. The article concludes by reflecting on De Paepe's significance for contemporary politics and the practice of intellectual history.

For European literati of the early twentieth century, Fyodor Dostoevsky represented a mythically Russian spirituality in contrast to a soulless, rationalized West. One such enthusiast was Georg Lukács, who in 1915 began a never-completed book about Dostoevsky's work, a model of spiritual community that could redeem a fallen world. Though framing his analysis in the language and themes of broader Dostoevsky reception, Lukács used this idiom innovatively to go beyond the reactionary implications this model might connote. Highlighting similarities with Max Weber's account of political ethics, I argue that Lukács developed an ethic derived from his reading of Dostoevsky, which focused on the idea of a hero defined by an ability to resolve the specific ethical dilemma of adherence to duty and moral law on the one hand, and, on the other, the need to restore spontaneous human community at a time when the social institutions embodying such laws had fallen into decay. Crucially, he deployed the same framework after his conversion to Marxism to justify revolutionary terror. However different his position from Dostoevsky's, it was through engagement with these novels that Lukács not only clarified his thought but also came to identify Lenin as a Dostoevskyan hero figure.

This article examines the ways in which defining the character of early Islam has been instrumental to contemporary political debates at distinct moments in time. It looks in particular at Restoration-era England and the last decades of the Ottoman Caliphate. In the latter period, European and Muslim scholars alike reappraised Islamic history in the context of the often polemical discourse surrounding pan-Islamism and the future of Islam. Indian Muslim writers especially moved into new and inventive historical territory. They took up the vocabulary of modern politics in their histories and in doing so pluralized the heritage of certain ideas and concepts, including democracy, constitutionalism, republicanism, and socialism. The result was the articulation of a usable, progressive Islamic past.

We continue to be intrigued by the Scottish Enlightenment. How was it that a relatively remote country on the geographical periphery of Europe—with a harsh climate, a largely mountainous terrain, a strict Calvinist creed, a small population and a history of civil strife—emerged in the 1740s as a “hotbed of genius” and a center of the European Enlightenment? The subject, to be sure, has been well studied. There is an immense literature and it can seem that there is little new to be said. Indeed, it may be, as the eminent historian Colin Kidd has observed in this journal, that “the very concept of the ‘Scottish Enlightenment’ has become a stale historiographical commonplace.” And yet the subject continues to intrigue, continues to attract scholars from a variety of disciplines. For something extraordinary happened in eighteenth-century Scotland. Simply to list some of the names cannot fail to impress: David Hume in philosophy and historical writing, Frances Hutcheson in moral philosophy, Adam Smith in moral philosophy and economic thought, Adam Ferguson in social thought, Thomas Reid in philosophy, William Robertson in historical writing, Hugh Blair in rhetoric and literary studies, James Hutton in geology, and Joseph Black in chemistry. The achievements of the Scottish Enlightenment were immense; its world influence has been enduring. And at its heart was the study of moral philosophy and of the moral progress of humankind.

The world of grand strategy is not one to which intellectual historians have devoted a great deal of attention. Matters of interstate economic competition and imperial rivalry have, of course, long been at the center of histories of early modern political thought. Yet, when these currents in the history of political thought narrow into nineteenth-century realpolitik, and then turn toward the professionalized contemporary discourses of international relations and war studies, intellectual historians have, for the most part, left the matter to the experts. The strategic maxims of Clausewitz and Liddell Hart may fascinate IR theorists, political scientists, and military historians, but they seldom fire the imaginations of tender-minded historians of ideas. The two books under review challenge such preconceptions. They ask us to consider the history of Cold War strategic thought in a wider conceptual frame. Buried in the history of strategy, they suggest, are some of the central themes of postwar social and political thought.