The optimist may be secretly envied, but he is publicly despised. His pronouncements are regarded as expressions of simple-minded blindness or as cynical propaganda. Optimism is not regarded as intellectually respectable. It was not always so: there have been times when optimism was not merely considered worthy of rational argument, but was widely accepted by thinking men. Now, however, we react with a growing embarrassment to passages such as these:

The time will therefore come when the sun will shine only on free men who know no other master but their reason;… All the causes that contribute to the perfection of the human race, all the means that ensure it must by their very nature exercise a perpetual influence and always increase their sphere of action … the perfectibility of man is indefinite.

It is probable that few critics, if directly challenged, would admit to believing that a work of literature which was, in some sense, morally objectionable was therefore necessarily totally lacking in literary merit. Nevertheless, it is not uncommon for a man—in the language he uses, in the conclusions he draws, in his obiter dicta—to seem yet to hold a view which, in its bald statement, he has denied. Certainly, those critics who most vehemently wish to dissociate themselves from any claims that art exists for art's sake, or that there are peculiarly ‘aesthetic’ criteria, and who believe that such claims lead to irresponsibility, such critics often use moral concepts extensively in their criticism. Furthermore, they often do this in such a way as to suggest that if a work is morally objectionable, then there is no way of redeeming it aesthetically; for, it would seem, moral criticism exhausts the critical possibilities; no aesthetic saving graces are allowed.

I want to concentrate on two kinds of talking about the arts. One concerns those aspects of the language of philosophical aesthetics in which generalisations about ‘art’ and ‘the arts’ are made. The other concerns the language of the critic in so far as it can be stated as having a very particular aim: ‘the stimulation’ (in, say, a reader) ‘of interest and the heightening of insight and the education of his ability to make his own appreciative judgments from direct experience’.

After-images, I believe, hold the key to certain much-debated issues regarding meaning and verification. In particular, an analysis of the relevant features of our discourse shows that views often held to be untenable or unintelligible or avoidable regarding our discourse about pain and similar sensations are not so easily escaped in the context of after-images.

It sometimes happens that a philosopher will develop a view on some topic and then later come to reject it. J. L. Austin was perhaps unique in that he not only rejected a philosophical view of which he himself was the author, he patiently developed the view and then showed it to be ultimately unsatisfactory within the compass of the same work. And he did this not once but three times, in material intended for publication. I am thinking, of course, of his notion of performative utterances: the view that there is a class of utterance, the members of which would on standard grammatical grounds be classed as statements, yet whose proper business is not to state anything but to perform some act. For example, to say ‘I promise to be there’ is to promise to be there, and not (or at least not merely) to state that one promises nor even to state that one will be there.

Flew claims that Manser has made several errors in his argument and in so doing presented a view of Darwinian evolutionary theory which is incorrect. This is a view with which I concur though the case against Manser's argument does not appear to have been put as clearly as it might have been. As Flew points out, Manser has made two kinds of objection to Darwinian, and presumably Neo-Darwinian, theory: that the terms employed in the theory are not clearly and independently defined, and that the theory makes no predictions and as such is un-falsifiable.