Philosophy in Universities Lives in Various Forms

How Professors and Students Together Create Philosophical Knowledge

In the West, the gradual emergence of nations during the modern era had an immediate impact on the objectives of the university. For instance, in 1661, the French minister Cardinal Giulio Mazzarino established the College of Four Nations. This initiative stemmed from the territorial acquisitions made by France following the Peace of Westphalia (1648) and the Treaty of the Pyrenees (1659), which brought regions such as Artois, Alsace, Pinerolo, and Roussillon—borderlands influenced by German, Spanish, or Flemish culture—under French rule. Cardinal Mazzarino believed that the children of the aristocracy residing in these territories should receive their education exclusively at this College, thereby adopting Parisian customs, interacting with one another, and symbolizing a newfound unity across France. Just as Cardinal Richelieu, who reconstructed the Sorbonne, was interred in its chapel, so too was Cardinal Mazzarino laid to rest in the chapel of his College, which became a model for the university aimed at fostering the cohesion of the expanding nation.

The Enlightenment gave rise to a distinct type of university, exemplified by the University of Göttingen, established by the Elector and future King of Great Britain, George Augustus, in 1734. Here, the majority of students specialized in law, yet all were required to study philosophy and the fundamentals of the natural sciences. A remarkable feature of this university was its vast library, which acquired books across all fields of knowledge, in stark contrast to other German universities, where libraries primarily held textbooks and commentaries. Furthermore, observatories, anatomical theaters, and collections of minerals and plants were established, transforming what had once been royal collections into a place where experimentation could flourish. This shift indicated that professors could now formulate the standards for the advancement of various industrial sectors.

In 1700, Frederick I, the Elector of Brandenburg, founded a scientific society led by Leibniz, which later became the Prussian Academy of Sciences. The society's objective was to facilitate the establishment of scientific infrastructure, such as observatories, anatomical theaters, and botanical gardens, rather than creating each institution in isolation. Then, in 1810, in Berlin, brothers Wilhelm and Alexander von Humboldt opened a university built on entirely new principles compared to medieval ones: faculty members were expected not merely to uphold established knowledge but to engage in scientific research and expose students to the latest discoveries. Clearly, this environment was ripe for philosophers; Hegel could lecture on ideas he had contemplated just the day before, and his audience would listen with rapt attention. Thus, scientific knowledge and bureaucracy made significant strides forward.

In 1782, Joseph II, the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire (which was still the official title of the Austrian Empire with its capital in Vienna), established the Geometric-Hydrotechnical Institute in Budapest, tasked with training engineers capable of constructing roads, canals, and even entire cities. This initiative was part of the prevailing notions of the desirability of a police state—essentially a government characterized by complete order, efficient operations, and punctuality. Professors were recruited from the Mining School in Banská Štiavnica, which had been established in 1735, as mining was a specialized profession with its own autonomous infrastructure and system of training specialists. However, the Geometric-Hydrotechnical Institute transcended a mere vocational school; it evolved into a genuine technical university. New engineers were expected to possess knowledge not only of physics and practical aspects of their craft but also of architecture and economics, thereby encompassing the fundamentals of art, political theory, and geography. In essence, the engineer was now envisioned as a well-rounded individual, knowledgeable in everything from contemporary poetry to the history of travel, and from chemistry to budget planning. Naturally, philosophy played a foundational role in the development of natural science.

Let us clarify once more: aside from university intellectuals and clerics, there existed other thinkers affiliated with contemplative orders who did not work within universities—such as scribes who copied books and, later, typographers after the invention of the printing press, as well as teachers of elementary schools and grammar. For Renaissance figures, the term "grammarian" carried a pejorative connotation, implying a lack of creativity and an inability to transcend established modes of perceiving the world. Yet, the Renaissance also birthed its own category of intellectuals—“antiquarians” or “antiquarians”—who were experts in antiquity, collectors, and consultants, often artists themselves, achieving considerable success at courts without the necessity of university affiliation. Moreover, the Renaissance began partly with the establishment of Greek departments in Italian universities, facilitated by Greeks fleeing the crumbling Byzantine Empire. Such Greeks could serve as consultants at courts or as educators, meaning their affiliation with the university corporation was no longer strictly defined. In our region, a non-university intellectual was termed a "nachetchik"—a knowledgeable individual in church literature, capable of conducting prescribed liturgical services in the absence of a priest and typically possessing a remarkable memory.

In modern times, in addition to the non-university intellectuals associated with academies and scientific communities, there emerged aristocratic intellectuals united, for example, in Masonic lodges—a mystical circle of discourse founded on the interpretation of various authoritative sources deemed significant for this community, with the aim of spiritual advancement. While a Mason might indeed work within a university, the method of producing knowledge in Masonry differed from that of the university; one needed to understand a text not merely for its content but for its inspiration, perceiving in its symbols a key to an alternate, superior, and spiritual realm. Essentially, any text deemed authoritative within this circle served not merely as an allegory (the technique of allegory being well-known since antiquity) but as a suggestion or call to religious conversion. The Masonic approach to reading stands in contrast not only to scholasticism, which considers the reality of the text as merely one manifestation of the reality of things, but also to Renaissance philology, which requires the consideration of contexts and the restoration of accurate readings. It demanded an immediate response to the reality hinted at by the text, to perceive it beyond the text itself, and to interpret the text's details not as a "history" in the classical sense—an academic narrative—but rather as a "history" in a new sense: a document legitimizing the emotions experienced during reading.