Beauty: A Very Short Introduction

Beauty: A Very Short Introduction by Roger Scruton

 

Roughly divided into two parts, Scruton begins by exploring four categories of beauty – human, natural, everyday, and artistic – and then ends with an apologetic for the pursuit of beauty. Underlying the entire work is the key question of judgment: Is the judgment of beauty subjective and relative, or is there a rational grounding based on a real and universal value. Or, posed in Scruton’s terms in the Preface, “since it is in the nature of tastes to differ, how can a standard erected by one person’s taste be used to cast judgment on another’s? How, for example, can we pretend that one type of music is superior or inferior to another when comparative judgments merely reflect the taste of the one who makes them?” Scruton unabashedly asserts that beauty is a “real and universal value, one anchored in our rational nature.” And he defends his claim by approaching the question philosophically, turning to philosophers as his primary sources of defense. The climax of this short apologetic is the penultimate chapter titled “The Flight from Beauty” in which Scruton examines the modern repudiation of beauty. According to Scruton, “It is not merely that artists, directors, musicians, and others connected with the arts are in flight from beauty. There is a desire to spoil beauty, in acts of aesthetic iconoclasm.” Why such vehement desire to desecrate beauty? According to Scruton, because “beauty makes a claim on us: it is a call to renounce our narcissism and look with reverence on the world.” Wide is the gate and broad is the road of flight and desecration that leads to destruction; small is the gate and narrow the road of renunciation and reverence that leads to life, and only a few find it (cf. Matt. 7:13-14). May we choose our way wisely so that we may be, with Sir Roger Scruton, among the few who submit to the hard claims of beauty.

 

 

Beauty can be consoling, disturbing, sacred, profane; it can be exhilarating, appealing, inspiring, chilling. It can affect us in an unlimited variety of ways. Yet it is never viewed with indifference: beauty demands to be noticed; it speaks to us directly like the voice of an intimate friend. If there are people who are indifferent to beauty, then it is surely because they do not perceive it.

 

Yet judgments of beauty concern matters of taste, and maybe taste has no rational foundation. If so, how do we explain the exalted place of beauty in our lives, and why should we lament the fact – if fact it is – that beauty is vanishing from our world? And is it the case, as so many writers and artists since Baudelaire and Nietzsche have suggested, that beauty and goodness may diverge, so that a thing can be beautiful precisely in respect of its immorality?

 

Moreover, since it is in the nature of tastes to differ, how can a standard erected by one person’s taste be used to cast judgment on another’s? How, for example, can we pretend that one type of music is superior or inferior to another when comparative judgments merely reflect the taste of the one who makes them?

 

That familiar relativism has led some to dismiss judgments of beauty as purely “subjective.” No tastes can be criticized, they argue, since to criticize one taste is simply to give voice to another; hence there is nothing to learn or to teach that could conceivably deserve the name of “criticism.” This attitude has put in question many of the traditional disciplines in the humanities. The studies of art, music, literature, and architecture, freed from the discipline of aesthetic judgment, seem to lack the firm anchor in tradition and technique that enabled our predecessors to regard them as central to the curriculum. Hence the current “crisis in the humanities”: is there any point in studying our artistic and cultural inheritance, when the judgment of its beauty has no rational grounds? Or if we do study it, should this not be in a skeptical spirit, by way of questioning its claims to objective authority, and deconstructing its posture of transcendence?

 

When each year the Turner prize, founded in memory of England’s greatest painter, is awarded to yet another bundle of facetious ephemera, is this not proof that there are no standards, that fashion alone dictates who will and who will not be rewarded, and that it is pointless to look for objective principles of taste or a public conception of the beautiful? Many people answer yes to these questions, and as a result renounce the attempt to criticize either the taste or the motives of the Turner-prize judges.

 

In this book I suggest that such skeptical thoughts about beauty are unjustified. Beauty, I argue, is a real and universal value, one anchored in our rational nature, and the sense of beauty has an indispensable part to play in shaping the human world. My approach to the topic is not historical, neither am I concerned to give a psychological, still less an evolutionary, explanation of the sense of beauty. My approach is philosophical, and the principal sources for my argument are the works of philosophers. The point of this book is the argument that it develops, which is designed to introduce a philosophical question and to encourage you, the reader, to answer it.