Carlos Fraenkel schreef het Lemma
SPINOZA,
BARUCH (Bento, Benedictus) DE (1632–1677),
Ik haal dit lemma dit blog binnen.
In de
ENCYCLOPAEDIA JUDAICA, Second Edition, Volume
19, pp. 111-119.
Hij plaatste zijn tekst op zijn academia.edu-pagina
Hij plaatste zijn tekst op zijn academia.edu-pagina
Ik haal dit lemma dit blog binnen.
SPINOZA,
BARUCH (Bento, Benedictus) DE (1632–1677),
philosopher born in Amsterdam of Portuguese
background, who became one of the most important representatives of the
rationalist movement in the early modern period.
Introduction
In the Jewish and National Library in
Jerusalem, Spinoza’s writings, unlike those of Jewish philosophers such as
Philo of Alexandria or Maimonides, are not in the Judaica reading room, but in
the general reading room, between the writings of Descartes and Leibniz. The
decision of the library reflects a broad consensus in the way his work is
perceived: Spinoza is not considered a Jewish thinker but one who belongs to
the general history of philosophy. To be sure, Spinoza was excommunicated from
Amsterdam’s Jewish community for things he apparently said and did as a young
man, and he went on to become the most radical and arguably the most
interesting thinker of the early modern period. From the end of the 17th
century onward his work played a central role in a variety of intellectual
contexts: from the Enlightenment and German Idealism to the “higher criticism”
of the Bible. Today Spinoza’s ideas are debated not only in philosophical
circles of both analytical and continental orientation, but also among scientists
such as the neurologist Antonio Damasio, who claims that his research confirms
how Spinoza conceived the relationship between body, mind, and affects of human
beings. And yet, Spinoza’s relationship to Judaism, and in particular to Jewish
philosophy, is complicated: it is marked by continuity and criticism that
sometimes remain in unresolved tension. Much of his philosophical project is,
in fact, best understood in light of the Jewish background. In Spinoza’s
thought ideas from many sources come together, ranging from Plato to the
Kabbalah. But of particular importance are, on the one hand, various traditions
of Jewish thought and, on the other, the writings of Descartes and Hobbes which
were at the center of philosophical discussions in the Netherlands of Spinoza’s
time. His first commitment, of course, was not to this or that intellectual
current, but to the truth: “I do not claim to have found the best philosophy,
but I know that I understand the true one [sed veram
me intelligere scio]”
(Letter 76).
Life and Works
Spinoza’s father, Michael (d. 1654), fled from
Portugal to the relatively tolerant Dutch republic where, he became a member of
Amsterdam’s Sephardi community and a successful merchant. Spinoza studied
Hebrew, the Bible, and rabbinic literature at the local talmud
torah school. The
community’s most renowned scholars, Isaac Aboab, Menasseh ben Israel, and Saul
Levi Morteira, were presumably among his teachers and influenced him directly
or indirectly. Aboab translated Abraham Cohen Herrera’s kabbalistic treatise Puerta
del Cielo (The
Gate of Heaven), with which Spinoza seems to have been familiar, from Spanish
into Hebrew. Morteira, who inclined to a rationalist interpretation of
religion, could have introduced him to medieval Jewish philosophy. Menasseh ben
Israel edited in 1628 the Sefer Elim by the Galilei student Joseph
Delmedigo, of which Spinoza had a copy, and that may have introduced him into
post-Copernican cosmology. Through Menasseh, Spinoza may also have made his
first acquaintance with Christian thought, as well as with the ideas of Isaac
La Peyrere, against whose treatise, Prae-Adamitae, Menasseh wrote a refutation. Spinoza
later used the book for his critique of Scripture; among others, La Peyrere
claims that Moses was not the only author of the Pentateuch and that human
beings existed before Adam and Eve. When his half-brother, Isaac, died in 1649
Spinoza’s help was required in the family’s importing business. Although an
outstanding student, he could thus not complete the higher level of the
educational curriculum which would have prepared him for a career as a rabbi.
The process that led to Spinoza’s alienation from traditional Judaism,
culminating in his excommunication (ḥerem) in 1656, cannot be precisely
reconstructed from the available sources. A significant role must presumably be
assigned to heterodox Jewish thinkers in Amsterdam such as Uriel da Costa, who
had been excommunicated twice a generation earlier and whose writings Spinoza
certainly knew, and Juan de Prado, who was excommunicated at the same time as
Spinoza. Despite the unusual harshness of the ḥerem, it does not
make explicit the content of the accusations, mentioning only “abominable
heresies” and “monstrous deeds.” But from various indirect sources Spinoza’s
views that were perceived as heretical can be established with reasonable
certainty: they seem to have included the denial that the Torah is of divine
origin, the denial that the immortality of the soul is a biblical doctrine, and
a “philosophical” concept of God incompatible with that of popular tradition.
All three issues show a certain affinity to doctrines of Da Costa and appear to
have been endorsed in one way or another by De Prado as well. Spinoza probably
explained and defended his views in a treatise now lost, but whose Spanish
title is preserved in later sources: Apologia para justificarse de su
abdicacion de la sinagoga (“Defense to justify his departure from the
synagogue”). There are good reasons for assuming that some of the material
contained in the Apologia was later incorporated into the first part of
the Tractatus Theologico-Politicus (TTP; “Theological-Political
Treatise”).
The encounter with the former Jesuit and
freethinker, Franciscus van den Enden, played an important role in Spinoza’s
intellectual development. In van den Enden’s school, which he already started
to frequent before his excommunication, Spinoza learned not only Latin, but was
also introduced into ancient literature and philosophy, as well as into
contemporary debates, in particular those provoked by the writings of Descartes
and Hobbes. Descartes presumably also occupied an important place in his
studies at the University of Leiden, at the time a center of Dutch
Cartesianism. That Spinoza had mastered Descartes’ philosophy is clear from his
Principia Philosophiae Cartesianae (“Principles of Cartesian
Philosophy”), an exposition of Descartes’ Principia Philosopiae in the
“the geometric manner,” published in 1663 together with an appendix, Cogitata
Metaphysica (“Metaphysical Thoughts”), that reflects both medieval Jewish
and Scholastic sources. Neither presents Spinoza’s own views, as he instructed
his friend and doctor, Lodewijk Meyer, to emphasize in a preface introducing the
two works. On the contrary: the treatises originate in
notes that Spinoza used for teaching his
student Caesarius, concerning whom he urges his friends “not to communicate my
views to him until he has reached greater maturity” (Letter 9). Indeed,
even earlier Spinoza had made no secret of his disagreement with Descartes on
fundamental issues such as “the first cause and origin of all things” (Letter
2).
But whereas the scope of Descartes’ influence
on Spinoza and its relation to the influence of Jewish philosophers remain an
object of controversy among scholars, it is uncontroversial that already in his
earliest writings devoted to the exposition of his own philosophy Spinoza
appears as a highly original thinker. Between the end of the 1650s and the
beginning of the 1660s he was working on two treatises: the Tractatus de Intellectus
Emendatione (“Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect”), which remained
incomplete and was published only in the Opera Posthuma, and a first
outline of his metaphysics, anthropology, epistemology, and ethics which was intended
for circulation only among his friends, apparently because he feared that “the
theologians of our time” would attack him with “their usual hatred” (Letter 6).
Already the work’s title, Korte Verhandeling van God, de Mensch en des zelfs
Welstand (“Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Wellbeing”), names the
constitutive themes of Spinoza’s philosophical project. From 1661 to 1675, he
systematically reworked the ideas sketched in the Korte Verhandeling into
his main philosophical work, the Ethica Ordine Geometrico Demonstrata (“Ethics
Demonstrated According to the Geometrical Method”). In 1665 Spinoza interrupted
his work on the Ethica for several years to set forth his critique of
religion and his political philosophy in the Tractatus Theologico-Politicus (“Theological-Political Treatise”), published anonymously in
1670. His goal was to contribute to defending the freedom of thought and religious
tolerance, which had been secured in the Dutch republic governed by Jan de
Witt, but now seemed threatened by the alliance of monarchists and Calvinist
orthodoxy. Since the critique of religion is grounded on a critique of
Scripture, and the correct understanding of Scripture requires a thorough understanding
of Hebrew (TTP 7), Spinoza’s Compendium Grammatices Linguae Hebraeae (“Compendium
of the Grammar of the Hebrew Language”) can be seen as a tool for carrying out
the critical theological-political project. But the striking parallel between
the account of nouns, adjectives, and participles in the Hebrew Grammar and the
account of substance, attributes, and modes in the Ethica also suggests
an interesting (if unclear) connection to Spinoza’s metaphysics. The scandal
triggered by the critique of religion in the TTP led to the book’s
prohibition in 1674. Under these circumstances Spinoza did not even attempt to
publish the Ethica. Like the Tractatus Politicus (“Political
Treatise”) that he was not able to complete and the equally unfinished Hebrew
Grammar, it appeared only in 1677 in the Opera Posthuma. Finally,
Spinoza’s extant correspondence must be mentioned which contributes significantly
to clarifying specific issues in his work.
Philosophy
OUTLINE OF THE PHILOSOPHICAL PROJECT. The Tractatus
de Intellectus Emendatione (TIE) begins with a description, stylized
as autobiographical, of the author’s conversion to the philosophical life. An
examination in the Socratic sense leads to the decision to turn away from “what
men consider to be the highest good [summum bonum],” i.e., “wealth,
honor, and sensual pleasure,” in order to seek the “true good” that provides the
“highest joy [summa laetitia] eternally.” The passage, whose immediate
source is a treatise by the Jewish Renaissance Platonist Leone Ebreo, takes up
the foundational concern of ancient ethics: the quest for the good life. Since
the TIE was originally conceived as a methodological introduction to Spinoza’s
philosophical system, this opening passage in a sense provides the point of
departure for his philosophical project as a whole. Indeed, choosing a life
devoted to the pursuit of knowledge would surely be a mistake if it were not
the best life. The Ethica, as before the Korte Verhandeling, can
be seen as the guide to that goal which Spinoza describes as “happiness [beatitudo]”
and as “salvation [salus]” (Ethica V, Prop. 36, Schol.). The true
good for Spinoza is God. What leads to this good is “understanding” culminating
in “knowledge of God [Dei cognitio]” (Ethica IV, Prop. 27 and
28). Since knowledge of God and of things “insofar as we conceive them to be
contained in God and to follow from the necessity of the divine nature” (Ethica
V, Prop. 29, Schol.) is accompanied by “joy [laetitia],” it gives
rise to the “intellectual love of God [Amor Dei intellectualis]” (Ethica
V, Prop. 32, Cor.). Spinoza speaks in this context of knowledge “under the
aspect of eternity [sub specie aeternitatis]” (Ethica V, Prop.
29) because both God and things conceived as necessarily following from God are
eternal and immutable. From knowledge of eternal things Spinoza draws a
conclusion that continues to puzzle scholars: that the part of the mind which
loves God intellectually becomes itself eternal, i.e., is in some way preserved
after the destruction of the body (Ethica V, Prop. 22 and Prop. 23). It
seems, therefore, that “salvation” for Spinoza is a form of intellectual
immortality. But the Ethica not only intends to instruct the reader how
to reach happiness and salvation; in a way it also puts these instructions into
practice. The geometric form of the argument, which deduces philosophical
propositions from definitions and axioms, entails a claim to definitive
validity. From the first part, that demonstrates God’s existence and
characteristics, to the fifth part, that shows how human freedom consists in
the activity of intellectually loving God, the Ethica can be seen as
part of the knowledge sub specie aeternitatis. In this sense it
contributes to bringing the quest for the “true good” to conclusion that was
the point of departure of the TIE. At the end of the “road [via]”
set out in the Ethica the seeker is prepared to turn into a “wise man [sapiens]”
who “suffers scarcely any disturbance of spirit, but being conscious, by virtue
of a certain eternal necessity, of himself, of God and of things, never ceases
to be, but always possesses true spiritual contentment [animi acquiescentia]”
(Ethica V, Prop. 42, Schol.). Many of the arguments on which Spinoza’s
project of the good life relies – from those for the intellectual love of God
to those for the immortality of the mind – were articulated in similar ways by
Jewish rationalists such as Abraham Ibn Ezra, Maimonides, Gersonides, and Leone
Ebreo. It is presumably in their writings that Spinoza encountered them for the
first time.
METAPHYSICS. In order to show of what the good
life consists, it is necessary to understand the nature of human beings and
their place in the order of existents. This in turn requires understanding the
nature and order of existents themselves. The first part of the Ethica is
thus devoted to ontology. Since for Spinoza ontology and philosophical theology
coincide, it is titled De Deo (About God). By identifying God with
reality as a whole, Spinoza radically breaks with the concept of divine
transcendence. God neither is located outside the natural order, nor does he
lack what Spinoza takes to be the essential attribute of the physical world:
extension. In light of this it is not surprising that he can speak of “God or
Nature [Deus sive Natura]” (Ethica IV, Praef.). God is defined as
“an absolutely infinite being [ens absolute infinitum], i.e., a
substance consisting of infinite attributes, each of which expresses eternal
and infinite essence” (Ethica I, Def. 6). According to this definition,
God encompasses all logically possible kinds of being, each of which is
infinite in its kind. But only two kinds can be apprehended by human beings:
“thought [cogitatio]” and “extension [extensio],” i.e., the
essential attributes of the two realms of reality accessible to us. God,
therefore, is both “thinking thing” and “extended thing,” but also an infinite number
of other things that lie beyond human cognition (Ethica II, Prop. 1 and
2 and Letter 64). That God exists follows from the fact that the concept
of a substance with infinite attributes is not contradictory (Ethica I,
Prop. 10, Schol.) and that the essence of a substance entails its existence (Ethica
I, Prop. 11). Since the existence of two substances with the same attribute
is impossible (Ethica I, Prop. 5), and since God has all attributes,
Spinoza’s substance monism follows: “Except for God no substance can be or be
conceived” (Ethica I, Prop. 14). This God is not static, but has an
“active essence [essentia actuosa]” (Ethica II, Prop. 3, Schol.)
and produces as “immanent cause [causa immanens]” (Ethica I,
Prop. 18) “infinite many things in infinite many ways” (Ethica I, Prop.
16) in himself “with the same necessity by which he apprehends himself [seipsum
intelligat]” (Ethica II, Prop. 3, Schol.). Spinoza here takes up and
modifies the doctrine of God found in the writings of medieval Jewish
Aristotelians who conceived God as the activity of a pure intellect
apprehending itself (Ethica II, Prop. 7, Schol.). The difference is that
Spinoza’s God is not only intellectual activity but also extending activity and
an infinite number of other activities. Spinoza holds, moreover, that
increasing God’s ontological scope does not conflict with God’s unity, for “the
thinking substance and the extended substance are one and the same substance,
comprehended now under this now under that attribute” (ibid.). Since Jewish
rationalists before Spinoza took God to be incorporeal, the attribution of extension
to God appears to be a fundamental departure from their premises. But also this
step had been prepared by the Jewish critic of Aristotelianism, Hasdai Crescas,
who argued for the existence of an infinitely extended empty space which he
describes as a “metaphor [dimayon]” for God. Moreover, Spinoza uses
arguments drawn from Crescas in Ethica I, Prop. 15, Schol. for defending
God’s extension. It would thus be inaccurate to say that Spinoza substitutes a
philosophical God for a religious God. His move beyond medieval philosophy is better
characterized as an attempt to solve specific ontological problems arising from
the causal relation, which his predecessors had to posit between an incorporeal
God and a corporeal world. As absolutely infinite activity that produces all logically
possible kinds of being, Spinoza’s God is all-powerful (Ethica I, Prop.
35). Although he is not free to choose what he does, he is free in the sense
that his activity is determined only by the necessity of his own nature (Ethica
I, Prop. 17, Cor. 2). Since the same necessity governs the order of things
that God creates in himself, this order is completely determined (Ethica I,
Prop. 29). In this context the distinction between creator and creation is
replaced through that between natura naturans and natura naturata (ibid.,
Schol.) of which the former refers to substance insofar as it is an active
cause and the latter to theinfinite number of modifications produced under each
of its attributes. Like substance, the series of modes is one; it consists in
ideas when considered under the attribute of thought, in extended things when
considered under the attribute of extension, and in an infinite number of other
things when considered under the attributes unknown to us (Ethica II,
Prop. 7, Schol.). There are two kinds of modes: those of the first kind are
eternal and infinite and subdivided into modes following immediately from one
of God’s attributes and modes that are mediated through a mode following
immediately from one of God’s attributes. Modes of the second kind, by
contrast, are transitory and finite. Since an eternal and infinite thing cannot
be the cause of a transitory and finite thing, it is unclear how the modes of
the second kind are supposed to be caused by God. Although Spinoza does not address
the problem, a possible solution is to take finite modes to be dependent on God
not individually, but as an eternal and infinite chain of causes and effects.
Spinoza also makes little effort to explain the first kind of modes. The
“infinite intellect” is the mode immediately following from the attribute of
thought, “motion and rest” the mode immediately following from the attribute of
extension, and the “face of the whole universe [facies totius universi]”
a mediate eternal and infinite mode of extension (Letter 64). The notion
of “motion and rest” suggests that Spinoza has the fundamental laws of nature
in mind. The “face of the whole universe” appears to refer to the stable order
of nature, since Spinoza links the notion to Ethica II, Lemma 7, Schol.,
where “the whole of nature” is described as an infinite individual that remains
unchanged, while its constituents vary in infinite ways.
In an appendix to the first part of the Ethica,
Spinoza explains the devastating consequences of his philosophical theology for
popular views of God. A providential God, who interferes in the course of
nature according to his free will, rewards and punishes, and performs miracles,
is nothing but the “refuge of ignorance [asylum ignorantiae]” of the
superstitious.
EPISTEMOLOGY,
PSYCHOLOGY, AND ETHICS. From the subsequent parts of the Ethica it is
clear that Spinoza is not interested in a general account of the order of
modes, but in the structure of one particular mode: the human being, consisting
of “mind and body [mens et corpus]” (Ethica II, Prop. 13, Cor.)
which – as in the case of substance and all other modes – are one and the same
thing considered under the attribute of thought and under the attribute of
extension. While Spinoza thus avoids the problems involved in dualistic
accounts of mind and body, the unity he assumes is not without obscurities of
its own. He describes the mind as the idea of the body (Ethica II, Prop. 13) and its
cognitive power as corresponding to the body’s complexity and hence ability to
interact with its environment (ibid., Schol. and Prop. 14). Of particular
importance for Spinoza’s epistemology are the three kinds of knowledge that he
distinguishes in Prop. 40, Schol. 2: “imagination [imaginatio]” which
draws on random sense-perceptions and their arbitrary association; “reason [ratio]”
which draws on common notions and adequate ideas of the properties of things;
finally “intuitive knowledge [scientia intuitiva]” which infers the
essence of things from the essence of God’s attributes. Whereas the first kind
of knowledge is fallible, the other two kinds are necessarily true (Ethica II,
Prop. 41). Although a true idea must correspond to its object (Ethica I,
Ax. 6), this is not the criterion of truth for Spinoza. What is decisive is if
the idea is “adequate” or not, whereby an “adequate” idea is one that has the
“intrinsic characteristics of a true idea” (Ethica II, Def. 4). As a
consequence, “he who has a true idea knows at the same time that he has a true
idea, and cannot doubt its truth” (Ethica II, Prop. 43). Truth thus
becomes “the standard both of itself and of falsehood [norma sui et falsi]”
(ibid., Schol.).
The third part of the Ethica contains
Spinoza’s psychology in form of a theory of human affects. Crucial for
understanding the affects is the striving “to persist in one’s being” (Ethica
III, Prop. 6) which Spinoza calls conatus and takes to be the
essence of all things. Only God has absolutely unlimited power in himself to
attain the goal of the conatus. The power of the modes, on the other
hand, depends on God and is limited to varying degrees within the order of
nature, which necessarily follows from God’s essence, and in which the modes
are determined by God to act on one another. In human beings the conatus takes
on the form of “desire [appetitus or cupiditas]” which gives rise
to two further basic affects: “joy [laetitia]” and “sadness [tristitia].”
The former is caused by an object that increases a person’s power and whose
possession is, therefore, desired. The latter is caused by an object that
decreases a person’s power and which he or she will thus attempt to avoid (Ethica
III, Definition of the Affects 1–3). Fundamental, moreover, is the
distinction between active affects, of which human beings are the “adequate
cause,” and passive affects that are caused by external objects. With this,
Spinoza has set up the conceptual framework for a detailed account and
explanation of human affects “in the geometric manner” (Ethica III,
Praef.), as well as for the ethical discussion of the fourth and fifth part of
the Ethica.
Spinoza’s ethics is clearly egoistic: to act
virtuously means “to preserve one’s own being […] under the guidance of
reason,” which in turn means to act with a view to “one’s own advantage [proprium
utile]” (Ethica IV, Prop. 24). As a consequence, goodness or badness
are not inherent properties of things or actions but depend on their utility or
lack of utility for attaining the objects of desire (Ethica IV, Def. 1
and 2). Since intellectual perfection is the highest level of power accessible to human beings, they – insofar as
they are rational – desire nothing but “understanding [intelligere]” (Ethica
IV, Prop. 26) which, as already indicated, has the “knowledge of God” as
its ultimate goal. This, therefore, is “the highest good” and the “highest
virtue” of the mind (Ethica IV, Prop. 27 and 28). The power derived from
understanding is manifold: it liberates human beings at least to some extent
from the “bondage [servitus]” to passive affects, since next to the
highest good, external things that are good or bad, but beyond their control,
become less important. Moreover, their affective reaction to what happens to
them will diminish and their tranquility increase through the knowledge that
all things are predetermined and that human beings are “part of the whole of
nature” (Appendix). By means of the better rational control over their affects,
human beings become less vulnerable to external causes that toss them back and
forth “like the waves of the sea when driven by contrary winds” (Ethica III,
Prop. 59, Schol.). At the same time, intellectual activity is an active affect
and entirely under our control. It thus represents the highest form of freedom
in the sense of self-determination accessible to human beings. Since knowledge sub
specie aeternitatis, according to Spinoza, allows the mind to participate
in God’s eternity, it constitutes the goal of the striving to “persist in one’s
being.” Finally, the increase in power gained through understanding is a source
of constant joy, leading to the “intellectual love of God.”
It is important to note that Spinoza takes his
ethical egoism to be perfectly compatible with the wish to give to one’s fellow
human beings every possible assistance to attain the same degree of perfection
that one desires for oneself. For “no individual thing in nature is more
advantageous to man than a man who lives by the guidance of reason” (Ethica IV,
Prop. 35, Cor. 1). Moreover, in contrast to material goods, “the greatest
good,” i.e., knowledge of God, “can be enjoyed by all equally” (Ethica IV,
Prop. 36). Solidarity and mutual help are thus good for purely utilitarian
reasons.
CRITIQUE
OF RELIGION. The Tractatus Theologico-Politicus also fits into Spinoza’s
project of the good life. Its goal may be described as creating the conditions
for the project’s implementation. After all, a philosophical life cannot be led
by someone who does not have the “freedom to philosophize [libertas
philosophandi],” or whom the “prejudices of theologians” prevent from
“devoting [applicare]” his life to philosophy. These, according to
Spinoza, were the main reasons for working out his critique of religion in the TTP
(Letter 30). The chief purpose of this critique is to show that
Scripture can make no legitimate claim to truth. This will take away both the
fear felt by the potential philosopher when a demonstrated proposition
conflicts with a theological doctrine and the authority of the theologian to
persecute a person for holding views that disagree with the teachings of
Scripture. Of crucial importance for attaining this purpose are the first two
chapters of the TTP, which deal with “prophecy or revelation [prophetia
sive revelation]” and with the biblical prophets. Spinoza recurs to a distinction
between intellect and imagination that was common in the Aristotelian tradition
and that Maimonides had already used for explaining prophecy. According to
Maimonides, the prophet has both a highly developed intellect and a highly
developed imagination, whereby the latter allows him to translate his
intellectual insights into a simple and vivid language that can be understood
by his uneducated audience. According to Spinoza, on the other hand, the
prophet does not excel through his “more perfect intellect,” but only through
his “more lively imagination [potentia vividius imaginandi]” (TTP 2).
Prophetic discourse, therefore, has no true cognitive content; it is only
persuasive through images and symbols which are adjusted to the audience’s
limited capacity for understanding and help securing obedience to the law.
Moreover, Spinoza intends to show through a detailed examination of the meaning
of biblical terms that when the Bible describes the prophets as being filled
with “the spirit of God or the holy spirit,” it only intends to highlight their
“exceptional virtue.” This is an implicit attempt to refute the doctrine of the
Calvinist Church which grounds the authority of Scripture on its super-rational
inspiration by the holy spirit (TTP 1). Prophecy thus understood is
neither specifically Jewish, nor can a claim to “election [vocatio]” be
derived from it. For Spinoza Israel’s election refers only to the political
success of the ancient Hebrew state based on Moses’ legislation. The election
ended with the state’s disintegration. That the Jewish people nonetheless
continues to exist he explains through its insistence to keep up “external
rituals” such as the “sign of circumcision [signum circumcisionis]”
through which it sets itself apart from other nations and provokes their hatred
(TTP 3). Moses’ legislation, in particular the “ceremonial law [ceremoniae]”
(TTP 5), is exclusively political in nature. As a “human law [lex
humana]” (TTP 4) it aims only at “preserving life and the
commonwealth,” promising no more than “worldly happiness [temporanea
foelicitas]” to those who observe it (TTP 5). By contrast, the
“divine law [lex divina]” aims at the “highest good, i.e., the true
knowledge and love of God,” thus leading to “man’s highest happiness [summa
hominis foelicitas]” (TTP 4). Also the distinction between human
andx divine law Spinoza took over from Maimonides, at the same time turning it
against its original intention. Whereas Maimonides identified the Torah with
the divine law and presented Moses as a philosopher and lawgiver in the
Platonic sense, Spinoza demotes Moses to a simple lawgiver whose legislation
became obsolete after the downfall of the Hebrew state. This reversal of the
Maimonidean model is a good example for the influence of Uriel da Costa and
other Jewish heterodox thinkers on Spinoza. Their denial that the immortality
of the soul is a biblical doctrine presumably underlies his claim that the
Mosaic Law only promises “worldly happiness,” and not eternal happiness which
is the reward of “the true knowledge and love of God.”
Also the miracles related in Scripture cannot
be used as testimony for the authority of revelation, since miracles in the
sense of God suspending the laws of nature are impossible in the order of
nature, which is eternally and necessarily determined through God’s essence.
The reason for the belief in miracles, according to Spinoza, is the ignorance
of causal connections (TTP 6).
The demolition of the traditional notion of
revelation allows Spinoza to refute the premises of the exegesis promoted by
Maimonides which attempts to harmonize philosophy and Scripture. In Spinoza’s
view this amounts to the “distorting and explaining away of Scripture” (TTP 7)
with the goal to “extract” from it “Aristotelian nonsense [nugas Aristotelicas]”
(TTP 1). It allows him likewise to refute the central claim underlying
the hermeneutics of the Calvinist Church: that the understanding of Scripture
requires the super-rational illumination by the holy spirit. Against these
approaches Spinoza calls for the unconditional acceptance of Scripture’s
literal sense based on the methodological principle that “the knowledge of all
the contents of Scripture must be sought from Scripture alone.” The focus is no
longer the “truth [veritas]” of a proposition in Scripture but its
“meaning [sensus]” (TTP 7). In order to determine the meaning,
the Bible scholar proceeds in an analogous way to the scientist whose aim is to
explain nature. Both work out a “history [historia],” i.e., a
methodological account, of the object of their study (ibid.). For the Bible
scholar this means collecting and ordering the data contained in Scripture and
then interpreting them in light of the relevant historical and socio-cultural
contexts, as well as the psychological peculiarities of the prophets, insofar
as these can be reconstructed from the available sources. In much of his
discussion in the preceding chapters Spinoza follows the methodological rules laid
out in TTP 7 and shows that from a philosophical point of view almost
every statement in Scripture is false.
In TTP 8–10 he goes on to examine the
composition and transmission of the biblical books. Taking a number of cryptic remarks
in Abraham Ibn Ezra’s commentary on the Bible as his point of departure,
Spinoza arrives at the conclusion that much of the Pentateuch cannot have been
written by Moses. He likewise questions the traditional attribution of several other
books of the Bible. The comprehensive rejection of the claim to truth of
revelation leads to the goal of the theological part of the TTP: the
strict separation of philosophy and religion. The authority to determine truth
and falsehood belongs only to philosophers who rely on rational insight. The
task of theologians, relying on revelation, is to assure “obedience [obedientia]”
to the law by teaching – like the prophets led by their imagination – “pious
dogmas” whose truth is not important. Philosophy and theology thus become two
independent disciplines: “the goal of
philosophy is nothing but the truth, the goal of faith is nothing but
obedience” (TTP 14). Consequently “reason” cannot be “the handmaid of
theology [ancilla theologiae] nor theology the handmaid of reason [ancilla
rationis].” Spinoza calls the former position “skepticism,” for it “denies the
certainty of reason,” and exemplifies it through Judah Alfakhar, one of the
leaders of the opposition to philosophy in medieval Judaism. Alfakhar is a
stand-in for the position of the Calvinist Church, which Spinoza refrained from
attacking openly. The latter position he calls “dogmatism” and illustrates it
by means of Maimonides’ philosophical exegesis which reinterprets every
biblical passage that contradicts a doctrine established by reason (TTP 15).
From this point of view the TTP marks the end of classical Jewish philosophy,
whose fundamental premise was the agreement of revelation with all propositions
demonstrated by reason. More importantly: it destroys the traditional notion of
religion as a whole insofar as it is grounded on the truth of revelation. In
this lies one of Spinoza’s most momentous contributions to modernity.
RELIGION
AS A REPLACEMENT OF PHILOSOPHY. Nevertheless, Spinoza’s attitude to religion is
considerably more complicated. For despite the radical critique of religion,
there arema significant number of passages throughout his work – from the Cogitata
Metaphysica to the Tractatus Politicus and the late correspondence
with Henry Oldenburg – in which he attributes a true core to Scripture, often
presented as its allegorical content. This striking inconsistency seems to stem
from a twofold commitment that Spinoza was ultimately unable to reconcile: he
not only wants to criticize religion in order to defend the freedom to
philosophize; he also wants to use religion as a replacement of philosophy for
non-philosophers. The concept of religion as a replacement of philosophy which
guides non-philosophers to virtue is precisely the “dogmatic” view of Maimonides
(and, in fact, the standard view of medieval Islamic and Jewish philosophers)
that Spinoza rejects in the TTP. The main idea is that the positive
content of religion – biblical narratives, laws, rituals and so forth – is a
pedagogical-political program designed by philosophers to guide
non-philosophers. The allegorical content of religion, on the other hand, corresponds
to the doctrines demonstrated in philosophy. Religion’s authority thus depends
on the assumption that the teachings of religion are true on the allegorical
level. Before Spinoza started working on the TTP in 1665, he
consistently endorsed the dogmatic position whenever he discussed the character
of Scripture (Cogitata Metaphysica II, 8 and the correspondence with W.
van Blyenbergh between 1664 and 1665). But different versions of it reappear also
in his later writings. They include the attribution of true moral convictions
to the biblical prophets (TTP 1 and 2), the attribution of true
metaphysical doctrines such as God being causa immanens to “all ancient
Hebrews” (Letter 73), the presentation of Christ as an accomplished
philosopher instructing non-philosophers by means of allegories (TTP 4;
cf. E IV, Prop. 68, Schol.), and the claim that the “uncorrupted” core of
Scripture corresponds to the “universal religion” described in the TTP (12–14).
None of these can be justified through the exegetical method that Spinoza
claims to have adopted in the TTP: “to neither affirm anything of
[Scripture] nor to admit anything as its teaching which I did not most clearly
derive from it” (TTP Preface). The textual evidence gives rise to a
number of questions: why did Spinoza adopt the medieval position in his early
writings, why did he refute it in the TTP, and why did he continue to
make use of it even after having refuted it? For one thing, Spinoza clearly shares
the view of Maimonides and many other medieval philosophers that the good life
based on knowledge (i.e., the life he himself chose according to the opening
passage of the TEI and for which the Ethica serves as a guide) is
accessible only to a small group of philosophers: “only a few in proportion to
the whole of humanity acquire a virtuous disposition under the guidance of
reason alone” (TTP 15; cf. Ethica V, Prop. 42, Schol.). This
leads to the question how guidance can be provided to non-philosophers. The
evidence of Spinoza’s early writings shows that he in principle agrees with the
medieval solution which takes the positive content of religion to be a pedagogical-political
program designed to lead non-philosophers to virtue. A second reason for adopting
the medieval position is that the perception of philosophy as coinciding with the
allegorical content of religion facilitates its acceptance in a religious
society. Finally, the medieval position, which has philosophy determine the
true core of religion, neither seems to interfere with Spinoza’s philosophical
project in the Ethica nor with the freedom to philosophize that he sets
out to defend in the TTP. But if this is the case, why did he refute it
at all? It is clear that Spinoza’s main opponent in the TTP is not the
“dogmatic” position represented by Maimonides, but the “skeptical” position of
the Calvinist Church, in particular the view that the authority of Scripture
overrides the authority of reason. This he takes to be the chief threat to the freedom
to philosophize (TTP Preface). The only efficient way to refute this
position, in Spinoza’s view, is to show that Scripture contains no truth. But
although the medieval position and the position of the Reformed Church are in a
sense opposed to each other, both depend in different ways on the premise that
Scripture is true. Thus the refutation of the one entails the refutation of the
other. While his target is the Reformed Church, Spinoza has no choice but to
give up the medieval position as well. At the same time he has no new solution
for the problem of non-philosophers. This explains why, despite its refutation,
he continues to use the dogmatic position in various contexts in his later
writings.
POLITICAL
PHILOSOPHY. In the Ethica Spinoza argues that the essence of human
beings is the conatus, i.e., the striving “to persist in one’s being.”
In the political part of the TTP and in the Tractatus Politicus,
following Thomas Hobbes, he equates the power to do so with a person’s natural
right in the state of nature, and explains the social contract as the decision
to submit to a sovereign power in exchange for peace and safety (TTP 16).
But, against Hobbes, Spinoza maintains that the natural right is not given up
under the social contract: “the supreme power in a state has no more right over
a subject than is proportionate to the power by which it is superior to the subject”
(Letter 50).
Besides Hobbes, Spinoza was also influenced by
ancient political thought, in part mediated through medieval Jewish sources.
Indeed, the fear of being harmed through the power of others is not the only
motive for forming a political community. Since, on their own, human beings are
not self-sufficient, they must collaborate with one another. Hence the Aristotelian
definition “which makes man a social animal, has been quite pleasing to most.”
Spinoza in any case is certain that “we derive from the society of our fellow
men many more advantages than disadvantages” (Ethica IV, Prop. 35, Schol.).
Moreover, according to Spinoza, social harmony is weakened when the actions of
the citizens are guided by the idiosyncratic goals of their passions, whereas
it is strengthened when their actions are guided by reason which prescribes the
same goal to all (idem, Dem.). It follows that the “end [finis],” for
which the state is established, is not simply peace in the sense of “the
absence of war [privatio belli];” its positive aim is to enhance the
rationality of the citizens, i.e., their virtue, for “reason” is the “true
virtue and life of the mind” (Tractatus Politicus 5, IV – VI). Since
Spinoza equates virtue and knowledge, culminating in the intellectual love of
God, and since he takes the “uncorrupted” true core of Scripture to be the call
“to love God above all and one’s neighbor as oneself ” (TTP 12), the
fundamental convergence of the purpose of his philosophical, religious, and
political project becomes apparent: to foster a community based on solidarity
and on freedom of thought, whose members assist one another in attaining the best
life, i.e., a life devoted to the love of God.
INFLUENCE.
Although during the first century after his death Spinoza was less famous than
infamous, reviled as a notorious atheist, his influence was nonetheless
considerable: not only on philosophers such as Leibniz, but, most importantly,
on the different currents of the unfolding Enlightenment. Indeed, some scholars
argue that the Enlightenment of the 18t century was no more than a post-scriptum
to the dynamic of the radical Enlightenment set off by Spinoza’s writings.
He determined the intellectual agenda not only of those who agreed with him, but
also of those who attempted to refute him and of those who adopted intermediate
positions (cf. J. Israel). The most fruitful reception of his philosophy took
place in Germany in the second half of the 18th century. The event
which put Spinoza’s work at the very center of the thriving German intellectual
culture of the time was the so-called “Pantheismusstreit.” This quarrel
broke out when F.H. Jacobi accused Lessing after his death of being a
crypto-Spinozist, in a public exchange of letters with Moses Mendelssohn that
was widely debated in Germany’s literary and philosophical circles and stirred
up renewed interest in Spinoza’s thought. A typical response to Jacobi’s
identification of Spinozism with atheism was that of the great Romantic poet
Novalis, who described Spinoza as a “God-intoxicated man.” Spinoza also
significantly contributed to shaping Goethe’s worldview, as well as that of
many other central figures of Germany’s literary scene. In a dedication that J.G.
Herder wrote into a copy of Spinoza’s Opera Posthuma, given to Goethe as
a Christmas gift in 1784, he expresses his wish that the “holy Spinoza” may
always remain their “holy Christ.” In philosophy, Spinoza’s ontological monism
influenced the systems of German idealists probably as much as Kant’s
criticism. According to Hegel, Spinoza’s thought is the “essential beginning of
all philosophizing [wesentliche Anfangvalles Philosophierens].”
Nietzsche arrived at the conclusion that his own philosophical project agreed
with Spinoza’s on most fundamental issues. As mentioned in the introduction, Spinoza
today continues to be debated by philosophers of a wide range of intellectual
affiliations. Turning to his critique of religion, Spinoza may be said to have
laid the foundation for the scientific study of the Bible. He also had a
considerable impact on Jewish thinkers, beginning with David Nieto in the 17th
century. In Jewish Haskalah circles of the 18th century, Mendelssohn’s
cautious Spinoza-reception stands next to Salomon Maimon’s enthusiastic
encounter with Spinoza’s system that he relates in his Autobiography.
Maimon’s metaphysics, which takes up and combines ideas derived from Maimonides
and Spinoza, was the first to make the transition from Kant to an idealist
position. Spinoza also left his imprint on 19th century maskilim.
Moreover, he became an important source of the secular worldview of prominent
Zionists, among them David Ben-Gurion who proposed to revoke the ḥerem
against him. Albert Einstein wrote a poem “On Spinoza’s Ethics.” His “God
who does not throw dice” clearly has Spinozistic features, as does his notion
of a “cosmic religion.”
[Carlos Fraenkel
(2nd ed.)]
As a Bible Scholar
Spinoza’s biblical criticism in part follows
earlier attempts, but integrates them for the first time into a rational
system, laying the groundwork for all later critical works on the Bible up to
the present. His biblical criticism is closely connected to his philosophical
system and political project. Based on the knowledge of the Bible that he
acquired in his childhood, and after long years of reflection, his critical
views of the Bible were expressed in the Tractatus Theologico-Politicus,
as well as in a few letters and conversations. In opposition to the many misuses
of the Bible that he observed in Judaism and Christianity, Spinoza developed
what he took to be the true method of biblical exegesis. Every person has the
right to engage in biblical interpretation; it does not require supernatural
illumination or special authority. Spinoza’s supreme principle is that the
Bible must be interpreted on its own terms. The method of the interpretation of
the Bible is the same as the method of the interpretation of nature. “For, as
the method of interpreting nature consists essentially in putting together a
history [i.e., a methodical account] of nature, from which, as from sure data,
we deduce the definitions of natural phenomena, so it is necessary for the
interpretation of Scripture to work out a true history of Scripture, and from
it, as from sure data and principles, to deduce through legitimate inference, the
intention of the authors of Scripture” (TTP 7). The history of Scripture
should comprise three components: (1) an analysis of the Hebrew language; (2)
the compilation and classification of the expressions [sententiae] of
each of the books of the Bible; (3) research into the original contexts of the
biblical writings, as far as they still can be ascertained, i.e., into “the
life, the conduct, and the pursuits of the author of each book, who he was,
what was the occasion and the epoch of his writing, whom did he write for, and
in what language. Further it should inquire into the fate of each book: how it was
first received, into whose hands it fell, how many different versions there
were of it, by whose advice was it received into the Canon, and lastly, how all
the books now universally accepted as sacred were united into a single whole”
(ibid.). In accordance with this program, Spinoza analyzed the biblical writings
in an attempt to determine their authors (TTP 8–10). He spelled out, and
substantially expanded on, the considerations that led the medieval commentator
Abraham Ibn Ezra to allude to the possibility that the Pentateuch did not
derive in its entirety from Moses. Although some of the Pentateuch did
originate with Moses (The Book of the Wars of God, the Book of the Covenant,
the Book of the Law of God), it was only many centuries after Moses that the
Pentateuch as a whole appeared. The Pentateuch, together with the books of Joshua,
Judges, Samuel, and Kings, forms a single larger historical work, whose author,
Spinoza conjectures, was Ezra. Ezra was prevented by his premature death, or
perhaps some other reason, from revising these books. They contain numerous repetitions
and contradictions, e.g., of a chronological nature, that lead to the
conclusion that the wealth of material was compiled from works of different
authors, without being arranged and harmonized. I and II Chronicles were
written long after Ezra, perhaps even after the restoration of the Temple by Judah
Maccabee. The Psalms were collected and divided into five books in the Second
Temple period; Proverbs is from the same period or, at the earliest, from the
time of Josiah. The Prophetic books contain only fragments assembled from other
books, but not in an order established by the prophets. Spinoza adopts Ibn
Ezra’s hypothesis concerning Job, according to which Job was translated from a
gentile language; if this were the case it would entail that the gentiles also
had holy books. Daniel is authentic only
from chapter 8 on; the previous chapters, presumably taken from Chaldean
chronicles, are in any case an indication that books can be holy even though
they are not written in Hebrew. The Book of Daniel forms with the books of
Ezra, Esther, and Nehemiah a work by a historian who wrote long after the
restoration of the Temple by Judah Maccabee, using the official annals of the
Second Temple in his work. These theories lead to the conclusion that the canon
could have originated only in the time of the Hasmoneans. It is a work of the
Pharisees, not Ezra, in whose time the Great Assembly did not yet exist.
Spinoza criticizes various decisions of the Pharisees, such as the inclusion of
Chronicles in the canon and the rejection of the Wisdom of Solomon and Tobit,
and he regrets “that holy and highest things should depend upon the choice of
those people.” Spinoza discovers in the Prophets numerous contradictions in
their conceptions of natural and spiritual phenomena. He concludes that God adapted
his revelation in these matters to the limited intellectual power of the
prophets, and that philosophical knowledge is not to be found in their works.
The purpose of the revelation to the prophets is rather to teach the right way
of life to an uneducated audience (TTP 1–2). The example of Balaam
indicates that there were prophets not only among the Hebrews. The election of
the Hebrews should not be understood as an indication that they excelled over
other nations with respect to intellect and virtue; their election refers only
to their political kingdom and ended with the latter’s downfall (TTP 3).
The ceremonies prescribed in the Bible, in fact the entire Mosaic law, were
applicable only as long as the kingdom lasted; after it ended they no longer
contributed to happiness and blessedness (TTP 4–5). According to
Spinoza, stories in the Bible are not to be believed literally; they are
intended to instruct the members of the community, who could not comprehend
philosophical arguments in which propositions are deduced from definitions and
axioms (TTP 5). Spinoza is aware of the difficulties that stand in the
way of a conclusive understanding of the Bible on the basis of his method, for
example our incomplete knowledge of Hebrew and of the circumstances of the
composition of the biblical books, some of which (in particular those of the
New Testament) are not extant in the language in which they were composed (TTP
7).
[Rudolf Smend /
Carlos Fraenkel (2nd ed.)]
Bibliography: SOURCES: Spinoza, Opera, ed. C.
Gebhardt, 4 vol., (1925); The Collected Works of Spinoza, vol. 1, ed.
and Eng. trans. E. Curley (1985); Complete Works, Eng. trans. S.
Shirley, ed. M.L. Morgan (2002); SCHOLARLY LITERATURE: M. Joel, Spinozas theologisch-politischer
Traktat auf seine Quellen geprüft (1870); idem, Zur Genesis der Lehre
Spinozas (1871); J. Freudenthal, “Spinoza und die Scholastik,” in: Philosophische
Aufsätze – Eduard Zeller zu seinem fünf zijährigen Doctor-Jubiläum
gewidmet (1887), 85–138; idem, Die Lebensgeschichte Spinoza’s (1899);
idem, Spinoza, Leben und Lehre (1927); K.O. Meinsma, Spinoza en zijn
kring (1896; French trans. 1983); H.H. Joachim, A Study of Spinoza’s Ethics
(1901); C. Gebhardt, “Spinoza und der Platonismus,” in: Chronicon
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Maimonides (1924); L. Strauss, Die Religionskritik Spinozas als
Grundlage seiner Bibelwissenschaft (1930; Eng. trans. 1965); idem, “How to
Study Spinoza’s Theological-Political Treatise,” in: Proceedings of
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Philosophy of Spinoza: Unfolding the Latent Process of His Reasoning, 2
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Publication? (1987); E. Curley, Behind the Geometrical Method – A
Reading of Spinoza’s Ethics (1988); Z. Levy, Baruch or Benedict – On
Some Jewish Aspects of Spinoza’s Philosophy (1989); Y. Yovel, Spinoza
and Other Heretics, 2 vols. (1989); M. Dorman, The Spinoza Dispute in
Jewish Thought – From David Nieto to David Ben-Gurion (Heb. 1990);
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S.B. Smith, Spinoza, Liberalism, and the Question of Jewish Identity (1997);
S. Nadler, Spinoza: A Life (1999); J. Israel, Radical Enlightenment (2001);
J.S. Preus, Spinoza and the Irrelevance of Biblical Authority (2001); H.
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Philosophy, 44:2 (2006).
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