Reflections on the Whitehead Centennial at Emerson Hall

My trip to Harvard gave me occasion to reflect not only on Whitehead's legacy, but on his resonances with Emerson and their shared vision of philosophical education.

It was raining Thursday afternoon when I arrived in Cambridge. My room at The Friendly Inn was a few blocks from Harvard Yard, and with the rain slowed to a drizzle, I decided to venture onto campus at dusk. I was drawn to Emerson Hall like a moth to a flickering flame. The conference celebrating Alfred North Whitehead’s arrival at Harvard exactly a century ago would began the next day. I decide to wait to enter the building until the following morning and continued to explore Harvard’s campus.

Upon arrival the next morning, I entered Emerson Hall for the first time and was greeted by Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Dr. Andrew Schwartz, executive director of the Center for Process Studies, welcomed us at the start of the conference. He recounted Whitehead’s arrival in the United States on August 27, 1924, and the delivery of his first lecture at Harvard on September 25, in the very lecture hall we had gathered in. He explained that the conference would not only celebrate Whitehead but explore the development of his ideas at Harvard, the popularity of his organic cosmology among contemporary Chinese scholars, and look ahead to the future of process thought.

Schwartz acknowledged key contributors and co-organizers, highlighting the international collaboration that brought the centennial conference to fruition. Among the organizers were United International College in China, the Harvard Chinese Student and Scholars Association, the Boston School of Modern Languages, and the Whitehead Research Project.

John Cobb Jr., a renowned scholar and a former student of Charles Hartshorne (who had worked with Whitehead at Harvard), delivered a thoughtful video address. Cobb, now nearing 100 years old himself, is undoubtedly the most prominent process theologian in the last 50 years. He reflected on Whitehead’s increasing relevance, particularly in relation to what Cobb calls “ecological civilization.”¹ He argued that Whitehead’s philosophy can help us address the growing crises of modern civilization—particularly the ecological catastrophe and social fragmentation driven by zero-sum individualism. Whitehead’s vision, as Cobb described it, offers an ontology of interrelatedness, focusing on the importance of community and cooperation over individualism, a worldview that finds strong resonance in China. Cobb noted the significant expansion of process philosophy in China, where Whitehead’s ideas have been embraced, not merely as academic theory but as a guiding vision for societal development. There are even three kindergartens in China rooted in Whitehead’s educational ideas!

Next, the Belgian philosopher Ronny Desmet gave his keynote, focusing on the relevance of Whitehead’s concepts of “recognition” and “prehension” to contemporary debates on artificial intelligence (AI). Desmet traced the origins of these concepts from Whitehead's early work in mathematics and physics and then into his speculative cosmology. Whitehead the mathematician emphasized intuitive pattern recognition as central to mathematical work, contrary to Bertrand Russell’s more logicist view. Even beyond mathematics, recognition (particularly in its analogical form) is essential to all understanding. Desmet then moved to Whitehead’s concept of “prehension,” which originates from his interpretation of electrodynamics. Prehension, in Whitehead’s philosophy, refers to the way entities experience or “grasp” each other in the process of becoming. Desmet explained that prehension is a radical departure from classical, mechanistic views of causality, as it emphasizes field-like relationality at every level of existence, from the electromagnetic to the psychological.

Desmet closed by connecting these ideas to the contemporary discussion of AI. He argued that AI researchers tend to focus on increasing computational complexity as the path toward developing consciousness or human-like intelligence, but they fail to account for the distinct aspects of human cognition that Whitehead’s philosophy addresses. Specifically, AI systems, no matter how advanced, lack the prehensive relationality that is intrinsic to human intelligence. Desmet cautioned against the reductive trend to reduce human cognition to computation, urging that we should instead focus on cultivating the intuitive dimensions of human intelligence.

Next was my panel, which examined the ways Whitehead’s thought developed during his years at Harvard. The first speaker, Dr. Joseph Petek, director of research and publication for the Whitehead Research Project, presented a detailed examination of Whitehead’s Harvard lectures. Petek argued that these lectures were not mere drafts for Whitehead’s later published works but were distinct philosophical explorations. He likened Whitehead’s teaching to the ebb and flow of ocean waves, each lecture building upon the last while adding new layers of insight.

Dr. Haipeng Guo from United International College followed with an intriguing exploration of Whitehead’s philosophy through the lens of the I Ching (the Book of Changes) and its principle of yin and yang. Dr. Guo presented a compelling argument that Whitehead’s process philosophy, with its focus on becoming and the interplay of opposites, shares profound resonances with ancient Chinese cosmology. He mapped Whitehead’s eight categories of existence onto the eight trigrams of the Bagua (八卦).

Next was Dr. George Lucas, professor emeritus from the U.S. Naval Academy and newly-appointed A.N. Whitehead Visiting Professor and Director of the CPS Archives at Southern Illinois University in Carbondale. Dr. Lucas traced Whitehead’s intellectual journey, highlighting how his time at Harvard marked a significant shift in his thought. He explored the ways Whitehead’s engagement with contemporary scientific developments, particularly in physics and biology, influenced his later philosophical ideas.

I spoke last, discussing Whitehead’s experimental style of philosophizing as evidenced by his Harvard students’ lecture notes. I also addressed the issue of the contrast between atomicity and continuity, noting that Whitehead’s account of the epochal becoming of actual occasions grants individual decisiveness a role in cosmogenesis. This is not meant as a rejection of the relational dimension of process thought (as emphasized by Cobb in his introductory remarks), but it does allow us to see the ways that communal loyalty and individual freedom go hand in hand. You can listen to my remarks here.

The many Chinese scholars present—including Dr. Kun Wang, Dr. Zhihe Wang, Dr. Li Yang, Dr. Jianhui Li, Dr. Fubin Yang, and Dr. Tzeki Hon—all highlighted the strong and growing interest in Whitehead’s philosophy in China, beginning with Chinese scholars studying under him at Harvard already in the 1920s. Whitehead’s emphasis on process and organic unity resonates with Confucian and Taoist traditions, leading to early Chinese intellectual engagement with his ideas. In the 21st century, this interest surged, particularly as China embraced the concept of ecological civilization. The government has supported the translation of Whitehead’s works and the establishment of over 30 process philosophy research centers, making China a global leader in Whitehead studies.

The conference concluded with a panel discussion on the future of process thought, including Dr. Catherine Keller, Dr. Randall Auxier, Dr. Mary Elizabeth Moore, Dr. Meijun Fan, and Dr. Andrew Davis. Keller focused on the importance of engaging with contemporary academic movements, particularly within the interdisciplinary field of new materialism. She emphasized that many of the central tenets of new materialism—such as relational ontology—are heavily influenced by Whitehead, even if some proponents don’t fully acknowledge this connection. Keller cited figures like Jane Bennett and William Connolly, who incorporate Whitehead’s ideas into their work, while noting that others, like Karen Barad, are less willing to acknowledge Whitehead’s influence. Auxier, meanwhile, reflected on the challenges of advancing Whitehead’s philosophy within academic institutions, particularly in philosophy departments where Whitehead’s thought remains marginal if not entirely absent (with perhaps three departments across the US where Whitehead is taught, including my own, as Andrew Davis reminded him). He encouraged Whiteheadians not to be overly concerned with whether or not Whitehead receives explicit credit, but rather to focus on continuing the work and advancing the ideas themselves.

The conference felt historic to me, though only time will tell whether the 21st century indeed becomes a Whiteheadian century (as David Ray Griffin famously predicted). After the days proceedings wrapped up, I had the chance to meet briefly with Marc Goodheart, the longtime Secretary of the University. He showed me his office in Massachusetts Hall, the oldest building on campus, and pointed out the quad opposite it where the recent pro-Palestine protests had thrown the university into crisis. After decades of service, he would be relinquishing his important post after commencement in May.

…

After the conference dinner, slightly sloshed from the Baijiu spirits and Lingjiu rice wine that our Chinese friends had shared, I decided to return to the campus for another evening walk. The air was thick with the hum of crickets, but it felt to me like something more was afoot. I made one final visit to Emerson Hall, sitting on its stone steps and listening for their memories. Above the entry doors, etched into the entablature, were the words: What is man that thou art mindful of him? It was a question that lingered in my mind while the warm evening breeze whispered in my ear. The wind delivered no answer, but contributed to the quiet gravity of the ancient and still unresolved mystery of our existence. The context from Psalms, chapter 8, reads:

8 O Lord, our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! who hast set thy glory above the heavens.

² Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger.

³ When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained;

⁴ What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?

⁵ For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour.

⁶ Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet:

⁷ All sheep and oxen, yea, and the beasts of the field;

⁸ The fowl of the air, and the fish of the sea, and whatsoever passeth through the paths of the seas.

⁹ O Lord our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth!

“Dominion” can and has been read as divine permission to exploit nature for our own economic gain. But it need not be read as domination. We would be mixed up indeed if we imagined that this world is anything but our own body, a living extension of our organism. It may mean, instead, that nature is our intended domus, our home.

Emerson identified two fundamental questions that human beings are capable of asking: “Who am I?” and “What is nature?” These questions are not merely academic; they are core to our growing more divine together. I was here to honor Whitehead, of course. But visiting Harvard for the first time gave me occasion to consider the broader implications of his work for the future of universities and education more broadly. Standing before Emerson Hall, it wasn’t only Whitehead’s thoughts that echoed off the columns. It was Emerson’s, that loyal rebel whose name now sat above the doorway of Harvard’s philosophy department, a man once banished from these grounds for daring to utter thoughts too wildly original, too untethered from tradition for 19th century scholars to stomach. There is a sad irony in this: to be banished, only to return as a symbol, etched in stone and cast in bronze in a philosophy department that could care less for his Romantic idealism.

In the summer of 1838, Emerson delivered what would become his most controversial lecture, the Divinity School Address. He spoke in Divinity Hall not just of religion but of the soul’s direct access to the divine, sidestepping the very Christian dogmas the divinity students and faculty he spoke to had spent years absorbing. Emerson dismissed miracles and questioned the sanctity of scripture, calling instead for a direct, personal intuition of the divine. The fallout was swift. Harvard’s governing body closed its doors to Emerson for nearly three decades. He was finally invited back in 1866.

Like Emerson, Whitehead refused confinement within the shackles of a dogma or a discipline. He was a mathematician, a physicist, a philosopher, and a great intellectual wanderer who managed to construct one of the last great metaphysical syntheses of the Western tradition. His magnum opus, Process and Reality, was published just as the cynicism and analytic narrow-mindedness that typified 20th century philosophy sought to clip the wings of speculative thought.

Whitehead’s philosophy defies categorization. Harvard wasn’t just another teaching post—it was an opportunity to work out ideas he had been meditating on for years, despite his lack of formal training in philosophy. He arrived in Cambridge already sixty-three years old, an age when most would be considering retirement. Whitehead’s teaching quickly became a cornerstone of the philosophy department, but his influence extended far beyond the classroom. He sought reconciliation between the precision of mathematical physics and the aesthetic subtlety of the humanities. In his lectures, he famously warned students about “misplaced concreteness,” the dangerous habit of mistaking abstract concepts for concrete realities.

Just as Emerson had spent his life resisting the constraints of institutionalized thought, Whitehead too saw the danger in over-specialization. He had spent the earlier part of his career working on the foundations of mathematics alongside Russell, but by the time he arrived at Harvard, he had turned his attention toward a far grander vision—one in which the universe itself is understood as an unfolding adventure of ideas. His process philosophy echoed Emerson’s own belief that we are not mere observers of life but active participants in its ongoing creation.

For Emerson, the task of the philosopher was to transmute mystical insights into the shared medium of language, making the ineffable intellectually accessible while retaining its mystery. This interplay between the mystical and the rational is key to understanding both men’s thought. But neither was content to melt their minds in vague spiritual emotions. Instead, they sought to make their insights applicable to the life of the erudite scholar and the plain citizen alike. Emerson believed that the intellect must have “the same wholeness which nature has.” Yet long before Whitehead’s death in 1947, modern philosophy had chosen a different path. The intellectual tide had shifted towards logical positivism and behaviorism, with figures like Russell and Ludwig Wittgenstein emphasizing linguistic analysis and strict sensory verification. Later, post-structuralism and other movements further distanced philosophy from cosmic questions, even casting doubt on the very possibility of true knowledge.

Emerson has largely been canceled by contemporary American academia, both in literature and of course in philosophy departments. But his view of education has never been more relevant. He saw education not as the mere transmission of information but as a process of self-transformation, a lifelong romance with Wisdom. “Man is endogenous,” he wrote, “and education is his unfolding.” True learning, for Emerson, was not about conforming to external standards but about developing one’s otherwise dormant capacities, discovering a personal connection to the encompassing natural world. Emerson envisioned the human ideal—the Anthropos—as a being transparent to the universe, a participant in the ongoing creation of the cosmos. We are to be co-creators with God of the future.

University education is intended to cultivate and nurture this very power—to become free, creative, alive—mindful of our existence and its purpose. The idea is not that God revealed a fixed plan for humanity to follow; rather, it is to accept that we are created to be creators. As the theologian Pierre Teilhard de Chardin suggested, God created a world that creates itself. In this sense, human beings are empowered to recreate ourselves and the world, and the arts and sciences are our means of doing so. They are not merely tools but forms of worship, expressions of our responsibility to one another and to a divinely inhabited world. The university is meant to be the sacred setting wherein each generation is reminded of this always ongoing task.

Embracing a worldly divinity, and the divinity of the world—call it panentheism, or perhaps better, pangentheism—we can think of the divine, the world, and humanity as an integral process. Divinity is then not simply the actus purus “above and beyond” us but a dynamic potential within and between us that can be realized to greater or lesser degrees. This perspective invites us to overcome the dualistic split between reality and illusion. Instead of viewing these as opposites, we can conceive of reality as an aesthetic spectrum composed of varying intensities of realization and gradations of existence.

God represents infinite realization—a real ideal that guides us but remains perpetually beyond our full attainment. This idea of God as “that than which nothing greater can be thought” is no proof of divine existence; it is rather a way of reflecting upon our own. This ideal functions as a lure, guiding us in all our flailing, finite attempts to approach it. Despite our imperfections, we do recognize when we are moving closer to or further from this ideal. Without it we are blind, education is reduced to an assembly line, and philosophy becomes a farce. Better to rename it conceptual analysis and not pretend to be Sophia’s lovers.

I left Emerson Hall that night carrying their ideas with me like talismans, knowing that Whitehead and Emerson’s work, like the universe, remains unfinished.

1. In his remarks later in the day, Philip Clayton addressed the use of the term "ecological civilization" and the challenges it presents. Clayton emphasized that while "ecological" evokes positive responses, the term "civilization" tends to carry negative connotations among environmental and decolonial activists, who may see the idea as contradictory to achieving social and ecological justice. He cautions Whiteheadians against using the phrase "ecological civilization" without fully defining or critically reflecting on what "civilization" means. Civilization is often associated with exploitation, inequality, and ecological degradation. Clayton argued that if the goal is to draw leaders and guide policy toward an ecological civilization, it is essential to clarify and make both terms—ecological and civilization—attractive and persuasive. According to him, this requires moving away from viewing civilization solely in terms of technological or industrial achievements and instead focusing on value ideals such as truth, beauty, adventure, art, and peace (each developed at length by Whitehead at the end of Adventures of Ideas).