In the ancient world, the cosmos was understood through myth and stories.
Zeus ruled the heavens, Poseidon commanded the seas, and the harvest relied on the favour of Demeter.
But 2,500 years ago, on the shores of ancient Greece, a radical transformation in thought began… 🧵
Rather than just accept that gods were responsible for shaping the natural world, there were some ancient Greek thinkers who began to ask questions like:
What is the world made of?
How does it work?
Why do things change?
They began to search for an underlying fundamental principle that could be discovered, not through the stories told by sages and travelling bards, but through reason, observation, and logic.
They called this principle the arche.
The first of these thinkers was Thales of Miletus.
He thought that water was the arche of all things.
His reasoning being that life depends on it, everything comes from it, and everything returns to it.
Though it’s an observation that might strike us now as unremarkable or perhaps naïve, in his time it was a radical leap.
It was the first attempt to explain the world through a single natural principle rather than divine will.
His student, Anaximander, went further.
He thought that the underlying reality couldn’t be a substance like water that we encounter in the everyday world.
Instead, he posited something more ethereal: a boundless and infinite reality which he called the apeiron.
For Anaximander’s student, Anaximenes, this was too abstract though.
The arche was substantial, sure, but it wasn’t water.
It was air.
Not only was air foundational to all life, providing the breath (pneuma) to living things, but it was the source of everything else.
It could transform through rarefaction and condensation, becoming wind, cloud, water, earth, and stone.
Together, Thales, Anaximander, and Anaximenes formed the core of what became the Milesian school of philosophy, defined by their use of observation, argumentation, and natural explanations.
In many ways they were the first scientists.
After the Milesians came Heraclitus of Ephesus.
He sought the arche not in substance, but in change.
You may already be familiar with his most famous axiom:
“You cannot step into the same river twice.”
For him, everything was in flux, governed by a hidden rational order called the logos.
To symbolise this ceaseless transformation, he chose fire as the closest expression of the world’s nature.
Then came Parmenides. He took the opposite view.
For him, change and flux were just an illusion layered over an eternal and unchanging reality.
Change is impossible, he argued, because:
• What is, is.
• What is not, is not.
• And nothing can come from what is not.
Therefore, nothing really comes into being or passes away.
It’s paradoxical, of course, but Parmenides is prioritising logic over the evidence of the senses.
A major turning point.
Other thinkers like Empedocles and Anaxagoras tried to resolve this clash between Heraclitus (everything is multiple and changing) and Parmenides (everything is one and eternal).
They developed early theories of matter while attempting to explain change, growth, and decay without recourse to the supernatural.
Finally, we have Democritus, who introduced an idea about the material world that’s still with us today.
The universe, he claimed, was made up of indivisible particles moving in the void, which he called atoms.
Democritus’s universe was one of necessity, not providence, where everything, even life and thought, arose from the motion and combination of atoms.
This was the birth of materialism.
It’s hard to overstate the radical effect that these thinkers had on shaping how we view the world even up to today.
For the first time, myth had been replaced by reason, the supernatural by the natural.
They sought principles that were universal, debatable, and open to testing, and in doing so, they laid the groundwork for science and philosophy as we know them.
They became known as the Pre-Socratic philosophers, not because they were somehow more primitive than Socrates or the great thinkers who followed, but because they provided the foundation from which Plato and Aristotle could launch their own inquiries.
They were the first to wonder if the world could be apprehended by the powers of our own intellect; that perhaps it was something that we could grasp, understand, and eventually master.
That possibility still animates philosophy and science today.
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We often think of Galileo, Newton, or Bacon as the “fathers” of science. Yet few realise how deeply Aristotle had already laid its foundations more than two thousand years earlier.
Here’s how… 🧵(thread)
Born in Stagira in 384 BC, Aristotle arrived in Athens at the age of seventeen to study at the Academy of the legendary Athenian philosopher, Plato. Here he would remain for twenty years, first as a student and then as a teacher himself.
Despite having a deep admiration for his mentor, Aristotle began to diverge from Plato’s teachings, in particular, his theory of the Forms, which posited that the true essences of all worldly phenomena exist in a transcendent and unchanging ideal realm outside of the senses.
On an autumn night in 1609, Galileo turned his newly built telescope toward the moon. What he saw set him on a path that ended, decades later, in a trial that changed the relationship between science and faith forever.
Here's the story of Galileo vs the Inquisition...🧵(thread)
Galileo was born in 1564 in Pisa, Italy. Brilliant, caustic, and prone to argument, he spent his youth sparring with his professors on mathematics and astronomy.
By his twenties he was already one of Europe's most formidable scientific minds. He'd invented a military compass, a thermoscope (a precursor to the thermometer), and had shown through experimentation that all objects fall at the same rate regardless of their mass.
Why should we still read a philosopher who taught 2,300 years ago?
Because Aristotle saw deeply into human nature, politics, and knowledge.
Here are five timeless pieces of wisdom that are as relevant today as they were then...🧵
1. The purpose of life is eudaimonia.
Aristotle thought that everything in the world was driven by some unique purpose or function and that human beings were no different.
Our purpose, on account of our unique capacity to reason, is to achieve eudaimonia which means something akin to happiness or flourishing.
One of the greatest conquerors to ever live, taught by one of history’s greatest philosophers
But how much was Aristotle able to shape the man who set out to rule the world?
A thread on one of history’s most fraught mentorships🧵
In 343 BC, King Philip of Macedon summoned Aristotle to tutor his teenage son, Alexander
With a growing empire, Philip knew the day would come when he would need a successor. Alexander showed flashes of brilliance, but he was volatile too.
He needed a steady hand to guide him
Aristotle had been a student of Plato at his Academy in Athens.
Keen to step out of his teacher’s shadow, he left Athens for the island of Lesbos to study biology, before heeding the call to become Alexander’s mentor.
Copernicus’ discovery that the Earth orbits the Sun wasn’t just a useful piece of astronomy, it fundamentally changed everything about how we saw the world.
Here’s the story of how an unwitting churchman upended a thousand-year worldview and rewrote reality itself... 🧵
Born in 1473 in the city of Toruń, in Royal Prussia, Copernicus never set out to overturn the established cosmological order.
He was trained as a canon lawyer, doctor, and administrator, and spent most of his career working for the cathedral chapter in Frombork.
Like most learned men of the time, he was educated in the Scholastic tradition — a rich synthesis of Aristotelian philosophy and Christian theology, upheld by the Catholic Church, that defined the worldview of Christendom.
Voltaire was even said to consume up to 50 cups a day!
Here's the story of how a strange and bitter drink from the East found its way to England and became the lifeblood of modern thought... 🧵
It’s fair to say that when Western merchants traversing Ottoman lands in the 17th century encountered the drink the locals called “Coffa” they weren’t impressed.
One remarked that it was as “blacke as soote, and tasting not much unlike it”
Though the taste may not have drawn them in initially, the culture did.
In Constantinople and Aleppo, coffee was consumed in coffee houses where men would meet each other, chat and socialise the days away.
It reminded the merchants of the taverns back in London.