Do you ever find yourself absolutely certain about something—only to later discover you were completely wrong? If that question makes you uncomfortable, you’re exactly the kind of reader Bertrand Russell had in mind when he wrote Unpopular Essays.
This collection isn’t designed to make you feel good about what you already believe. It’s designed to dismantle the comfortable certainties that keep us stuck in intellectual and political paralysis.
Overview
Unpopular Essays is Bertrand Russell’s 1950 collection of twelve essays—written between the mid-1930s and 1950—that systematically attacks dogmatism in all its forms: political, religious, philosophical, and social.
Russell argues that certainty is an intellectual vice, that empiricism and liberal democracy are the only philosophies compatible with human progress, and that the greatest threats to civilisation come not from external enemies but from our own refusal to question our most cherished beliefs.
The book is witty, merciless, and deeply uncomfortable—exactly what you’d expect from a man who won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1950 for his “varied and significant writings in which he champions humanitarian ideals and freedom of thought.”
Reader recommendation
Unpopular Essays is a good choice for anyone who enjoys having their intellectual foundations shaken. Students of philosophy, political science, or history who want to understand why dogmatism is dangerous. Readers who appreciate wit and clarity in serious writing. People who suspect that their own beliefs might be less certain than they appear.
Unpopular Essays can not be suggested to those who prefer their philosophy comforting and uncontroversial. Readers who want definitive answers rather than better questions. Anyone who finds scepticism threatening rather than liberating. People who believe that authority—whether religious, political, or academic—should be trusted without scrutiny.
Table of Contents
Introduction
Bertrand Russell (1872-1970) was one of the most remarkable intellects of the twentieth century.
Born into the British aristocracy—grandson of a Prime Minister, heir to an earldom—he nevertheless became one of philosophy’s most relentless critics of power, privilege, and unearned authority.
By the time Unpopular Essays appeared in 1950, Russell had already lived through two world wars, been imprisoned for his pacifism during the First World War, lost his Cambridge lectureship, been vilified by the British establishment, and survived a campaign to have him fired from City College of New York on moral grounds.
Unpopular Essays was published in the same year Russell received the Nobel Prize in Literature. That timing is significant.
The world was emerging from the horror of the Second World War, the atomic bomb had been dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and the Cold War was beginning to freeze into place. Russell, then seventy-eight years old, had seen enough of human folly to know that the old ways of thinking were no longer merely inadequate—they were lethal.
The preface to Unpopular Essays reveals Russell’s characteristic blend of wit and seriousness. He explains the title by recounting how reviewers had criticised his previous book, Human Knowledge, for being too difficult despite his claim that it was written for the general educated public. Russell’s response is typically mischievous:
“I will therefore confess that there are several sentences in the present volume which some unusually stupid children of ten might find a little puzzling. On this ground I do not claim that the essays are popular; and if not popular, then ‘unpopular’.”
This is Russell at his best: simultaneously deflating his critics and making a serious point about intellectual accessibility.
Background: The Intellectual Context of 1950
To understand Unpopular Essays, you need to understand the world Russell was writing in. The first half of the twentieth century had been a catastrophe for the ideals of reason and liberal democracy that Russell held dear.
Two world wars had killed tens of millions. Fascism and Nazism had risen and been defeated, but not before demonstrating how easily entire populations could be persuaded to embrace murderous dogmas.
Communism, which Russell had initially viewed with some sympathy, had revealed itself under Stalin to be just another form of totalitarian tyranny.
Russell had witnessed all of this firsthand. He had visited Russia in 1920 and come away deeply disturbed. He had seen how the Bolsheviks, despite their claims to represent the proletariat, had established an oligarchy as oppressive as any in history.
He had watched as nationalism and ideological fanaticism tore Europe apart. And now, with the atomic bomb, humanity had acquired the power to destroy itself entirely.
The essays in this collection, written over a fifteen-year period from the mid-1930s to 1950, are Russell’s response to this crisis. They are not abstract philosophical exercises.
They are urgent interventions, written by a man who believed—correctly, as it turned out—that humanity’s survival depended on its ability to think clearly and resist the seductions of dogmatic certainty.
Unpopular Essays Summary
Let me walk you through the twelve essays of Unpopular Essays that make up this collection. Each one deserves attention, because each tackles a different aspect of the problem Russell identified: the human tendency to embrace certainty without evidence, and the catastrophic consequences of that tendency.
1. Philosophy and Politics
The opening essay of Unpopular Essays establishes Russell’s central argument: that philosophy and politics are inextricably linked, and that the wrong kind of philosophy leads directly to political tyranny. Russell distinguishes between two philosophical traditions.
On one side is empiricism, associated with Locke and liberalism, which emphasises uncertainty, tolerance, and the need for evidence. On the other is idealism, associated with Plato and Hegel, which claims access to absolute truth and justifies authoritarian rule.
Russell’s treatment of Plato is particularly devastating. He describes Plato’s Republic as a totalitarian tract that has been “admired, on its political side, by decent people” only because of “literary snobbery”.
The main purpose of education in Plato’s ideal state, Russell points out, is to produce courage in battle. There is rigid censorship, no drama, limited music, and elaborate lying to persuade the population that there are biological differences between classes.
“Whether people are happy in this community does not matter, we are told, for excellence resides in the whole, not in the parts.”
Russell’s treatment of Hegel is equally withering. He summarises Hegel’s philosophy with brutal clarity:
“Real reality is timeless… but there is also an apparent reality, consisting of the everyday world in space and time. The character of real reality can be determined by logic alone.”
The political consequences of this kind of philosophy, Russell argues, are disastrous. If you believe you have access to absolute truth, you will feel justified in imposing that truth on others by any means necessary. This is exactly what happened in Nazi Germany, in Stalin’s Russia, and in every other totalitarian regime.
The essay concludes with a defence of empiricist liberalism:
“Empiricism, finally, is to be commended not only on the ground of its greater truth, but also on ethical grounds. Dogma demands authority, rather than intelligent thought, as the source of opinion; it requires persecution of heretics and hostility to unbelievers.”
2. Philosophy for Laymen
This essay of Unpopular Essays addresses the question of why ordinary people should study philosophy. Russell argues that humanity faces two kinds of problems: those of mastering natural forces (science and technology) and those of how best to use that mastery (wisdom). The second kind of problem is more important and more difficult.
“It will be found that increase of skill has not, of itself, insured any increase of human happiness or well-being.”
Russell uses historical examples to make his point. When men first learnt to cultivate the soil, they used their knowledge to establish human sacrifice. When they tamed the horse, they used it for pillage and enslavement. In the industrial revolution, child labour and ruthless imperialism were the results. And in Russell’s own day, scientific genius had produced the atomic bomb, which terrified everyone.
The remedy, Russell argues, is philosophy—not the technical philosophy of specialists, but the kind of philosophy that teaches people to think clearly, to suspend judgement in the absence of evidence, and to recognise the limits of their own knowledge.
“The demand for certainty is one which is natural to man, but is nevertheless an intellectual vice.”
This is one of Russell’s most famous lines, and it captures the essence of his entire philosophical project. Certainty is not a virtue. It is a vice. The ability to live with uncertainty, to hold opinions tentatively, to change one’s mind when new evidence appears—these are the intellectual virtues that democracy and civilisation depend on.
3. The Future of Mankind
This essay, written in 1950 at the dawn of the atomic age, is arguably the most urgent in the collection. Russell begins by outlining three possibilities for humanity’s future:
“I. The end of human life, perhaps of all life on our planet. II. A reversion to barbarism after a catastrophic diminution of the population of the globe. III. A unification of the world under a single government, possessing a monopoly of all the major weapons of war.”
Russell does not pretend to know which of these will happen, but he is certain that the old system of competing nation-states cannot continue.
“I do not pretend to know which of these will happen, or even which is the most likely. What I do contend, without any hesitation, is that the kind of system to which we have been accustomed cannot possibly continue.”
What makes this essay remarkable is that Russell, who had been imprisoned for his pacifism during the First World War, now argues that a world government will have to be imposed by force.
He believes that the United States and its allies should form a military alliance strong enough to compel the Soviet Union to join, and that if Russia refuses, war may be necessary.
“I think we should admit that a world government will have to be imposed by force.”
This is not the pacifism of Russell’s youth. It is the grim realism of a man who has seen what happens when good intentions are not backed by power.
Russell acknowledges the dangers of a world government, particularly one imposed by the Soviet Union. He argues that a victory by the United States would be preferable because America allows freedom of thought, inquiry, and discussion, whereas Russia enforces ideological conformity.
“In Russia, if you are a geneticist who disagrees with Lysenko, you are liable to disappear mysteriously.”
The essay ends with a qualified hope. If humanity can establish a world government, science and technology can be used to eliminate poverty and create unprecedented well-being. But if we fail, we face disaster.
“The present moment is the most important and most crucial that has ever confronted mankind.”
4. Philosophy’s Ulterior Motives
This essay is Russell at his most cynical about philosophy itself. He argues that philosophers are not really interested in truth. They are interested in finding “bad reasons for what we believe upon instinct”—a phrase he borrows from F.H. Bradley.
“Philosophy has been defined as ‘an unusually obstinate attempt to think clearly’; I should define it rather as ‘an unusually ingenious attempt to think fallaciously’.”
Russell traces this tendency through the history of philosophy. Descartes, he argues, begins with genuine scepticism but quickly abandons it when he reaches conclusions he finds comfortable. Berkeley uses philosophy to prove the existence of God.
Kant, after being “awakened from his dogmatic slumbers” by Hume, spends twelve years producing a critique of pure reason, only to spend seven more years producing a critique of practical reason that reinstates all the dogmas he had supposedly abandoned.
“Hume, the enfant terrible of philosophy, was peculiar in having no metaphysical ulterior motives.”
Russell’s point is that most philosophy is not a disinterested search for truth. It is a rationalisation of what we already want to believe. This is a dangerous tendency because it allows us to mistake our prejudices for conclusions reached by reason.
5. The Superior Virtue of the Oppressed
This essay examines a persistent human delusion: that certain groups are morally superior to others. Russell traces this belief through various forms: the “noble savage,” the oppressed nation, women, children, and the proletariat.
“One of the persistent delusions of mankind is that some sections of the human race are morally better or worse than others. This belief has many different forms, none of which has any rational basis.”
Russell shows how each of these forms of idealisation serves a political purpose. The belief that the poor are virtuous justifies keeping them poor. The belief that women are “spiritual” justifies keeping them out of politics. The belief that children are “innocent” justifies controlling their education.
“The stage in which superior virtue is attributed to the oppressed is transient and unstable. It begins only when the oppressors come to have a bad conscience, and this only happens when their power is no longer secure.”
The essay is particularly sharp on the subject of the proletariat. Socialist and Communist intellectuals, Russell argues, pretend to find the proletariat more virtuous than other people, while simultaneously professing a desire to abolish the conditions that supposedly produce this virtue.
“Children were idealised by Wordsworth and unidealised by Freud. Marx was the Wordsworth of the proletariat; its Freud is still to come.”
6. On Being Modern-minded
This essay is a critique of intellectual fashion. Russell argues that our age is “the most parochial since Homer”—not geographically, but chronologically. We imagine ourselves at the apex of intelligence and dismiss everything that came before us.
“We imagine ourselves at the apex of intelligence, and cannot believe that the quaint clothes and cumbrous phrases of former times can have invested people and thoughts that are still worthy of our attention.”
The modern-minded person, Russell argues, does not want to think better thoughts than his neighbours. He only wants to be slightly ahead of them in point of time. He suppresses what is individual in himself for the sake of the admiration of the herd.
Russell traces this tendency to the decline of belief in objective standards—the True, the Good, and the Beautiful. When these standards disappeared, people lost their inner defence against social pressure.
“We are suffering not from the decay of theological beliefs but from the loss of solitude.”
7. An Outline of Intellectual Rubbish
This is the longest essay in the collection and one of the funniest. Russell takes aim at a vast range of foolish beliefs: religious superstitions, racial theories, economic fallacies, and political platitudes.
“Man is a rational animal—so at least I have been told. Throughout a long life, I have looked diligently for evidence in favour of this statement, but so far I have not had the good fortune to come across it.”
Russell catalogues the absurdities that have been believed by intelligent people: that lightning rods are impious because they defeat God’s will, that earthquakes are punishments for sin, that women have fewer teeth than men, that the pig is the only animal liable to measles.
“Aristotle could have avoided the mistakes of thinking that women have fewer teeth than men, by the simple device of asking Mrs Aristotle to keep her mouth open while he counted. He did not do so because he thought he knew.”
Russell’s point is not merely that people believe foolish things. It is that they believe foolish things because those beliefs serve their emotional needs—self-esteem, fear, the desire to justify cruelty.
“If an opinion contrary to your own makes you angry, that is a sign that you are subconsciously aware of having no good reason for thinking as you do.”
The essay concludes with practical advice for avoiding foolish beliefs: observe for yourself, imagine arguments with opponents, be wary of opinions that flatter your self-esteem, and conquer fear.
“To conquer fear is the beginning of wisdom, in the pursuit of truth as in the endeavour after a worthy manner of life.”
8. The Functions of a Teacher
This essay of Unpopular Essays addresses the role of education in a democratic society. Russell argues that teaching has been transformed from a small, independent profession into a branch of public service, and that this transformation carries grave dangers.
“In former days a teacher was expected to be a man of exceptional knowledge or wisdom, to whose words men would do well to attend. In antiquity, teachers were not an organised profession, and no control was exercised over what they taught.”
In modern totalitarian states, Russell points out, teachers are expected to instil official dogmas. The result is populations of fanatical bigots, ignorant of the world outside their own country, unaccustomed to free discussion.
Russell argues that teachers should be guardians of civilisation. They should instil in their students the habit of impartial inquiry, the ability to see their own country as one among many, and the capacity to understand rather than merely condemn.
“No man can be a good teacher unless he has feelings of warm affection towards his pupils and a genuine desire to impart to them what he himself believes to be of value.”
9. Ideas That Have Helped Mankind
This essay, along with its companion piece, attempts to evaluate which ideas have been beneficial and which have been harmful. Russell begins by asking what we mean by “helped mankind.” Is it increasing numbers? Becoming less like animals? Becoming happier? Knowing more? Becoming more friendly to one another?
Russell argues that the most important ideas have been those that contributed to knowledge and technique, and those concerned with morals and politics.
“The ideas with which we shall be concerned may be broadly divided into two kinds: those that contribute to knowledge and technique, and those that are concerned with morals and politics.”
Russell traces the development of helpful ideas from the invention of language and fire, through the domestication of animals and the invention of agriculture, to the Greek development of mathematics and astronomy, and the scientific revolution of the seventeenth century.
But he warns that technical progress without moral progress is dangerous.
“Scientific progress without a corresponding moral and political progress may only increase the magnitude of the disaster that misdirected skill may bring about.”
10. Ideas That Have Harmed Mankind
This essay is the dark mirror of the previous one. Russell argues that the most important evils mankind suffer are those they inflict on each other through stupidity or malevolence.
“I think that the evils that men inflict on each other, and by reflection upon themselves, have their main source in evil passions rather than in ideas or beliefs. But ideas and principles that do harm are, as a rule, though not always, cloaks for evil passions.”
Russell identifies several harmful ideas: the belief that human sacrifice improves crops, the belief that sin deserves punishment, the belief in racial superiority, the belief in national economic interest as opposed to global prosperity.
“The whole philosophy of economic nationalism, which is now universal throughout the world, is based upon the false belief that the economic interest of one nation is necessarily opposed to that of another.”
The essay concludes with a call for tolerance and kindliness.
“In public, as in private life, the important thing is tolerance and kindliness, without the presumption of a superhuman ability to read the future.”
11. Eminent Men I Have Known
This is one of the more personal essays in the collection. Russell recounts his encounters with famous figures: Queen Victoria, Robert Browning, Alfred Tennyson, William James, Henry Sidgwick, Albert Einstein, William Gladstone, and Lenin.
Russell’s portrait of Gladstone is particularly memorable. He describes being left alone with the great man at the age of seventeen, too terrified to speak.
“For a long time we sat in silence; at last, in his booming bass voice, he condescended to make his one and only remark: ‘This is very good port they’ve given me, but why have they given it me in a claret glass?'”
Russell’s portrait of Lenin is equally vivid. He describes Lenin explaining with glee how he had incited poorer peasants against richer ones, “and they soon hanged them from the nearest tree—ha! ha! ha!”
“His guffaw at the thought of those massacred made my blood run cold.”
12. Obituary
The final essay is a mock obituary, written by Russell himself and first published in 1937. It describes the life and death of “Bertrand Russell” from the perspective of an unsympathetic biographer.
“By the death of the Third Earl Russell (or Bertrand Russell, as he preferred to call himself) at the age of ninety, a link with a very distant past is severed.”
The obituary is a masterpiece of self-deprecating humour. It describes Russell’s “eccentric attitude during the first World War,” his “lack of balanced judgement,” his “superficiality” as a historian, and his “antiquated rationalism.”
“His life, for all its waywardness, had a certain anachronistic consistency, reminiscent of that of the aristocratic rebels of the early nineteenth century.”
Unpopular Essays Analysis
Reading Unpopular Essays in the twenty-first century, I’m struck by how fresh it feels. The problems Russell identified—dogmatism, nationalism, intellectual conformity, the refusal to question one’s own beliefs—are, if anything, more acute now than they were in 1950.
Consider social media. Russell wrote about the power of governments over belief:
“I am persuaded that there is absolutely no limit to the absurdities that can, by government action, come to be generally believed.”
Today, we don’t need governments to spread absurdities. Social media algorithms do it for us, creating echo chambers where our prejudices are reinforced and our certainties hardened. Russell’s advice to seek out people with whom you disagree, to read newspapers belonging to parties not your own, to imagine arguments with opponents—this advice is more relevant than ever.
Consider the rise of populist nationalism. Russell wrote about the belief in national superiority:
“We are all, whatever part of the world we come from, persuaded that our own nation is superior to all others.”
Today, this belief is driving politics in country after country. The same rhetoric of national greatness, the same suspicion of foreigners, the same refusal to compromise—Russell would recognise it immediately. He would also recognise its dangers.
Consider the climate crisis. Russell wrote about the need for international government to prevent war. Today, we need international government to prevent ecological catastrophe. The same logic applies: individual nations cannot solve problems that are global in scope. They must cooperate, or they will perish.
Consider the crisis of expertise. Russell wrote about the importance of empirical evidence and the danger of dogmatic certainty.
Today, we have a crisis of trust in experts, a widespread belief that one opinion is as good as another, a refusal to accept scientific evidence when it conflicts with political preferences. Russell would have recognised this as intellectual rubbish of the most dangerous kind.
Strengths and Weaknesses
Strengths
Clarity of writing. Russell is one of the great prose stylists of the twentieth century. His sentences are clear, his arguments are easy to follow, and his wit makes even the most serious subjects enjoyable.
The Financial Times called Unpopular Essays “an intellectual treat” that combines “wit with perception, and width of view with ease of expression”.
Intellectual courage. Russell is willing to challenge sacred cows of both the Left and the Right. He criticises communism as harshly as he criticises fascism. He criticises religion as harshly as he criticises nationalism. He is not afraid to be unpopular—hence the title.
Relevance. Despite being written more than seventy years ago, the essays speak directly to our current situation. Russell’s warnings about dogmatism, nationalism, and intellectual conformity are, if anything, more urgent now than they were then.
Depth of insight. Russell doesn’t just identify problems. He identifies their causes. He shows how beliefs serve emotional needs—self-esteem, fear, the desire to justify cruelty. This psychological insight gives his arguments a power that purely logical arguments lack.
Weaknesses
Occasional overstatement. Russell sometimes pushes his arguments too far. His treatment of Plato, for example, is so hostile that it becomes almost caricature. Plato’s philosophy is more complex and more interesting than Russell allows.
Fact/value confusion. As one reviewer noted, Russell sometimes confuses facts and values despite his insistence on separating them. His discussion of Auschwitz is a case in point: he treats the choice of a world without Jews as if it were a matter of fact rather than a matter of value.
Elitism. Despite his commitment to democracy, Russell sometimes displays an elitist disdain for ordinary people. His joke about “unusually stupid children of ten” is funny, but it also reveals a certain impatience with those who cannot follow his arguments.
Limited solutions. Russell is excellent at diagnosing problems but less effective at proposing solutions. His proposal for a world government imposed by force is realistic but also frightening. He offers few concrete suggestions for how to achieve the intellectual and moral transformation he believes is necessary.
Comparison with Similar Works
Unpopular Essays belongs to a tradition of sceptical, liberal philosophy that includes John Stuart Mill’s On Liberty, Karl Popper’s The Open Society and Its Enemies, and George Orwell’s essays.
Like Mill, Russell believes that freedom of thought and discussion is essential to human progress. Like Popper, he believes that dogmatism is the enemy of open society. Like Orwell, he writes with clarity and moral urgency about the political dangers of his time.
But Russell is more personally engaged than Mill, funnier than Popper, and more philosophically rigorous than Orwell. He combines the virtues of all three while adding his own distinctive voice—witty, merciless, and deeply humane.
Conclusion
Who should read Unpopular Essays?
Unpopular Essays is not for everyone. It is for people who are willing to have their beliefs challenged. It is for people who suspect that certainty is more dangerous than doubt. It is for people who believe that thinking clearly is a moral obligation, not just an intellectual luxury.
If you are looking for comfort, look elsewhere. If you are looking for confirmation of what you already believe, look elsewhere.
But if you are looking for a book that will make you think—really think—about what you believe and why you believe it, then Unpopular Essays is essential reading.
“To endure uncertainty is difficult, but so are most of the other virtues.”
Russell wrote those words more than seventy years ago. They are as true today as they were then. In a world of increasing polarisation, of echo chambers and filter bubbles, of certainty without evidence and conviction without reason, the ability to endure uncertainty is more than a virtue. It is a survival skill.
Unpopular Essays teaches that skill. It won’t make you popular. But it might make you wise.
