Harvard University Press, 2020. — 209 p. — ISBN 978-0674-247-222
My most important teacher at university, Sidney Morgenbesser, used to play a game which I privately called “pantheons.” (As far as I know, he himself had no word for the game.) As a good polytheist, Sidney
thought that if there was such a thing as a god, there would have to be several such entities, and probably a whole hierarchy of beings of different ontological status, entertaining complicated relations with each other. If all the philosophers in history were considered to be the domain of reference, there would be the “major divinities,” “minor deities,” “demigods,” “heroes,” “mere humans,” and “all-too-human humans” (a category, to be sure, which, for other reasons, held little interest for Sidney). Since Sidney was an extraordinarily gifted philosopher, he was more interested in the considerations one could marshal to place particular figures in a particular category—that is, in the question of what constituted being a “major divinity”—than he was in which particular person got placed in which box. So depending
on the context and the way the discussion proceeded, different philosophers got shifted from one category to the other. One could also play the game with a restriction to a particular century, say 1850–1950 (a natural period to pick, if one were playing the game in, say, 1965). Despite the migration of philosophers from one group to another over time, there were some visible regularities, the most striking