Eternal Knowledge and Belief in Spinoza

In his Ethics, Spinoza writes that “He, who has a true idea, simultaneously knows that he has a true idea, and cannot doubt of the truth of the thing perceived.”[1]  The notion in this passage, which is referenced in multiple other passages in the Ethics, is that knowledge is an a priori function derived from that which is eternal.  Spinoza thus considers knowledge of God as the only adequate idea, so that what is known is only that which is completely certain.[2]  As eternal knowledge is completely certain, Spinoza seems to avoid the Cartesian skepticism that rules over the perceptions.  Spinoza relies on his previously explained metaphysic in which all substance is one, that is, that all substance is God, and thus indivisible and infinite.  However, such a notion seems to fly in the face of many variations of the classical foundationalist model of justified true belief epistemologies.  The knowledge is already there, much like a Platonic doctrine of ideas, but is unique to Spinoza because of his doctrine of infinite substance.  Thus, one does not need to prove that truth is had, which differs from the Cartesian method that seeks to correct false ideas to arrive at knowledge.[3]  Furthermore, belief is unnecessary to knowledge because belief is not necessarily of the truth.  Justification of this truth is unnecessary as well due to knowledge being of that which is already known.  Thus, there seems an issue at work here, pointed out by Richard Mason in his article “Spinoza and the Unimportance of Belief,” that Spinoza “gave no clue about how the gap between belief and knowledge might be bridged, beyond a suggestion that immediate intuition seemed enough to sift true from false ideas.”[4]  The answer to this issue seems largely unanswered.  However, while Mason’s claim seems accurate in that Spinoza does not directly address the supposed separation of knowledge and belief, the answer lies implicitly in the Ethics, and is seen upon a closer examination of what Spinoza means by his doctrine of eternal knowledge.  I will argue that Spinoza’s system does indeed account for Mason’s discrepancy between knowledge and belief; it will be seen that knowledge, according to Spinoza’s account, is not entirely separate from belief, but in a particular way entails belief.

First, I must briefly clarify Spinoza’s system.  It is derived from a notably pantheistic metaphysic in which “There can only be one substance with an identical attribute…It does not exist as finite, for it would then be limited by something else of the same kind, which would also necessarily exist…It therefore exists as infinite.”[5]  Such an infinite substance, according to Spinoza, can only be God.[6]  Because there is only one infinite substance, that is, God, “Substance absolutely infinite is indivisible.”[7]  It is from this notion that Spinoza is able to arrive at a concept of an eternal mind.  He writes that “The idea of God, from which an infinite number of things follow in infinite ways, can only be one.”[8]  Furthermore, “Infinite intellect comprehends nothing save the attributes of God and his modifications,” and since there is only one substance, there is only one idea that can be comprehended, specifically God as infinite substance.[9]  Spinoza takes this idea of one infinite substance and intellect and carries it further to show that this notion leads to the deduction that there can only be one mind, so that the seeming individuality of particular minds are actually just infinite attributes of the one substance.[10]  Thus, “Our mind (the one mind or substance, that is, God), in so far as it knows itself and the body under the form of eternity, has to that extent necessarily a knowledge of God, and knows that it is in God, and is conceived through God.”[11]  This eternal mind, as recognized by Spinoza, is a natural extension of the one substance, but its main usefulness here is that it explains Spinoza’s position on eternal knowledge, that is, that knowledge is a priori and is of the infinite substance.  Another way of stating this concept is that “Knowledge is of essence…the reflection of the ideal of Being.”[12]  The Cartesian assumption that multiple minds, or a minimal distinction between God and individual self, exist separately is entirely true according to Spinoza’s framework.[13]  Rather, the apparent distinction between the finite substance and infinite substance is actually just a matter of the “points of view of the whole.”[14]  The one substance is thus in an infinite state of comprehending itself, and it does so by an infinite chain of attributes that simply appear as finite within the human mind.

One issue with the notion of eternal knowledge arises when Spinoza seems to believe that the finite mind continues to acquire knowledge after death.[15]  This might seem unreasonable given Spinoza’s metaphysics of infinite substance.  For example, Michael Lebuffe asks the question, “How can Spinoza hold that what is eternal is also a thing that can change over the course of one’s life?”[16]  However, it is precisely this metaphysics that accounts for such a claim.  First, Spinoza’s pantheistic account of substance renders death to the same level that it renders individuality—it seems to merely be a matter of point of view.  That is, death of the individual requires the particular individual.  What is thought to be the particular individual is actually just a modification of Spinoza’s one substance.  Thus, death seems to merely be an alteration of the state of the substance.  Yet this account of death does not entirely answer the issue of change seeming to occur in infinite substance.  The answer is found in Spinoza’s claim that while the eternal mind of the infinite substance does not actually change by increasing or decreasing in knowledge, the finite parts, or individual minds, operate according to “proportions” in order to comprehend the one substance.[17]  Lebuffe explains that “When other parts of a mind decrease, the eternal part of a mind can increase, as a proportion of a mind, without itself changing.”[18]  Thus Spinoza introduces a certain amount of realization into his method.  As noted, the finite parts of the one substance are only finite insofar as they merely seem to be particulars, acting as particulars on a practical level.  Each mind is actually just a mode of the eternal mind.  By introducing proportions, to increase the part of the mind that is eternal is to increase in realization of the eternal mind.  Death is one way that this process is furthered, and so it can be seen that change does not actually occur, but rather infinite and finite knowledge remains immutable.

I suggest that by recognizing that there is a certain degree of realization involved in the reconciliation of supposed differences between finite and infinite minds, Spinoza’s system no longer seems to be antagonistic toward classical foundationalist notions, but is rather seeking to fulfill the demands of a suitable epistemology.  Jon Miller writes that Spinoza’s a priori system of knowledge is not an effort to undermine foundationalism, but has the goal of correcting probabilistic systems such Descartes’ system, as “Any philosophical system, then, if it is to be satisfactory, must begin with what is epistemically basic.”[19]  By outlining an a priori metaphysic, Spinoza seeks to make truth and justification the same; it is on this a priori knowledge that all other knowledge is based on.  Thus it provides the foundation upon which other knowledge can be justified.

In response to the apparent separation between knowledge and belief, it is important to understand that from Spinoza’s system can be inferred an implicit distinction between belief alone and knowledge that entails belief, which I claimed earlier that Spinoza supports implicitly within his metaphysic.  As demonstrated, Spinoza’s a priori system sets up a series of basic truths that are known.  From these truths are derived that God, substance, and mind are one and infinite.  To reconcile supposed changes in finite minds, it is recognized that the finite minds are actually just part of the infinite whole and are in the infinite process of realization.  This is why Spinoza writes that “The mind’s highest good is the knowledge of God.”[20]  He implicitly means that even after death the mind is still infinitely realizing God as infinite substance.  Thus belief is contained within knowledge.  Belief is not completely absent, as Mason might suggest, but is part of the realization process of the eternal mind.  Knowledge of God, as Spinoza demonstrates, is definite so that it is absolutely known.  It is unimportant for Spinoza to make belief a separate condition for knowledge since it is already entailed by this system.  Furthermore, belief as a condition in itself leads to probabilistic doubt, a flaw that Spinoza recognized in Descartes’ system.  By forming an a priori system of absolutely certain basic truths, “Spinoza is concerned to minimize the harmful effects of beliefs that cause strife and disorder,” therefore avoiding the pitfalls of Descartes’ methodical doubt.[21]  Descartes recognized that knowledge of God was all-important, although Spinoza sought to correct some errors in his methodology.[22]  The invocation of infinite substance as God and eternal mind allowed Spinoza to avoid issues with uncertainty present in Descartes, as well as form a certain and basic foundation on which one can have knowledge.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Benedict de Spinoza. Works of Spinoza: The Ethics, translated by R. H. M. Elwes. New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1955.

Edmund Gettier.  1963. Is Justified True Belief Knowledge? Analysis 23, no. 6, (June 1): 121-123.

Jon Miller. 2004. “Spinoza and the A Priori.” Canadian Journal of Philosophy 34, no. 4: 555-590.

Leon Roth. Spinoza, Descartes, and Maimonides. New York: Russell and Russell, 1963.

Michael Lebuffe. 2005. “Spinoza’s Summum Bonum.” Pacific Philosophical Quarterly 86: 243-266.

__________. 2010. “Change and the Eternal Part of the Mind in Spinoza.” Pacific Philosophical Quarterly 91: 369-384.

Moira Gatens. 2012. “Compelling Fictions: Spinoza and George Elliot on Imagination and Belief.” European Journal of Philosophy 20, no.1: 74-90.

René Descartes. Meditations on First Philosophy, translated by Donald A. Cress. Indianapolis, Indiana: Hackett Publishing Company, 1993.

Richard Mason. 2004. “Spinoza and the Unimportance of Belief.” Philosophy 79: 281-298.

 

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[1]Spinoza, Benedict de, Works of Spinoza: The Ethics, trans. R. H. M. Elwes (New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1955), 114.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Mason, Richard, “Spinoza and the Unimportance of Belief,” Philosophy 79 (2004): 284.

[4] Ibid, 282.

[5] Spinoza, Ethics, 48.

[6] Ibid, 45.

[7] Ibid, 54.

[8] Ibid, 85.

[9] Ibid.

[10] Ibid, 96.

[11] Ibid, 262.

[12] Roth, Leon, Spinoza, Descartes, and Maimonides (New York: Russell and Russell, 1963), 110.

[13] Descartes, René, Meditations on First Philosophy, trans. Donald A. Cress (Indianapolis, Indiana: Hackett Publishing Company, 1993), 46.

[14] Roth, Spinoza, Descartes, and Maimonides, 110.

[15] Spinoza, Ethics, 267.

Lebuffe, Michael, “Change and the Eternal Part of the Mind in Spinoza,” Pacific Philosophical Quarterly 91 (2010): 369.

[16] Ibid.

[17] Spinoza, Ethics, 266.

[18] Lebuffe, Change and the Eternal Part of the Mind in Spinoza, 370.

[19] Miller, Jon, “Spinoza and the A Priori,” Canadian Journal of Philosophy 34, no. 4 (2004): 565.

[20] Spinoza, Ethics, 205.

Lebuffe, Michael, “Spinoza’s Summum Bonum,” Pacific Philosophical Quarterly 86, (2005): 251.

[21] Gatens, Moira, “Compelling Fictions: Spinoza and George Eliot on Imagination and Belief,” European Journal of Philosophy 20, no. 1 (2012): 76.

Descartes, Meditations, 17.

[22] Ibid, 25.

Clarifying ‘Continental’ and ‘Analytic’

Is there or is there not a distinction between what is called analytical and what is called continental philosophy? We’ve talked about this some, but the answers are so far, unsatisfying.

It is necessary to remove one objection to this inquiry before I begin. That is, that there is no continental/analytic distinction, or there isn’t one anymore. I’ll make a brief, imprecise argument against this here.

1. When I’m talking to members of this symposium about the distinction, we seem to be referring to something similar and understood amongst ourselves.
2. It is useful clarify what one means in a group of one’s peers.
3. It is useful to us to discuss the distinction.
4. A false distinction would be a waste of time to talk about.
5. Therefore it is describing a real distinction.

However, that doesn’t mean that we are using the words ‘continental’ and ‘analytic’ well, so the conclusion of this clarificatory process could be that we should use different words. But with that out of the way, let’s begin. I’ll explain two senses which seem insufficient, and then provide a potential solution.

(1) The usual sense in which we seem to delineate the two is something along the following lines: Analytic thought is depth-oriented, whereas continental thought is breadth-oriented. This isn’t wrong, exactly, but it is unclear what is being said. Obviously a good analytic philosopher wants to incorporate his conclusions into some kind of broad philosophical system, and continental philosopher wants to know how specific points cooperate in his outlook. Additionally, the farther we move from the positivists and British or Hegelian idealists, the more this seems to break down. Yes, an analytic work can be overly concerned with absolute precision (e.g., maybe Gettier discussions in epistemology), but a contemporary continental work can be equally narrow on the issues with which it is concerned. Both have come to assume a prior, accepted framework in which their work is done.

(2)Another way we’ve described it discussion is that the difference is one of method. Philosophical investigation seems to have very tight rules for the analytic. Defining one’s terms clearly, for example, is absolutely necessary. Possibility, necessity, right, good, justification, and so on, all have specific meanings and must be used accurately for meaningful discourse to proceed. The continental, on the other hand, can seem flippant with words she uses. For example, Derrida: “Deconstruction, by definition, cannot be defined.” Obviously, this is some kind of a joke, or a word game, the analytic might say. However, at times the continental will speak paradoxically and meant to be taken very seriously. The analytic cannot abide this. So, the method seems to be different.

This is more accurate than (1), as I hope to explain in my concluding paragraph. However, there are at least three problems with this explanation. First, the “tight rules” of the analytic have not been well-defined, and there doesn’t seem much reason to try. Vague guidelines can be made (clarity, precision, involvedness, comprehensiveness) but this isn’t a real definition of the essence of analytic philosophy. It is more of a description of its accoutrements. Second, because the continental is essentially defined negatively, (as not-a-follower-of-the-analytic-rules) it is equally vague.

(3) Though (2) is not sufficient to explain the distinction, it does point us in the right direction. There is a sense in which we are talking about a method of philosophizing. However, philosophizing is not the same as composing philosophy, which seems to be where (2) goes wrong. Those guidelines of analytic philosophy seem to exist because they describe loosely the way analytic philosophy is composed. However, the way analytic philosophy is written is expressive of something more fundamental in analytic thought. (1), however also helps in constructing this analysis, because the difference in philosophical method seems to be a difference in the order of operations of the “schools”. My proposition, then, is this:

1. What we have meant by an analytic philosopher (as philosopher) is one who attempts to work from the objectively meaningful to the subjectively meaningful. Definitions are proposed, [objective] propositions accepted or rejected, and then connected together to form a “book” of propositions about what one believes about the world. Questions are first directed against individual propositions, and then (if at all) the systems of those propositions in general.

2. What we have meant by a continental philosopher (as philosopher) is one who attempts to work from the subjectively meaningful to the objectively meaningful. A structure (one could even say narrative structure) is proposed – Marxism, Hegelianism, deconstructionism, etc. This becomes then the subjective method by which one applies and appropriates propositions about the world. Questions are first directed against individual propositions, and then (if at all) the systems of those propositions in general.

Let’s take two small, quick examples:

1. “Judging whether life is or is not worth living amount to answering the fundamental question of philosophy.” –Albert Camus
2. “I will stay on this course until I know something certain, or, if nothing else, until I at least know for certain that nothing is certain… [G]reat things are to be hoped for if I succeed in finding one thing, however slight, that is certain and unshaken.” — Rene Descartes

I use Camus and Descartes because neither is really continental or analytic, historically speaking. Camus is concerned with valuation, Descartes with certainty. Descartes is the most obvious possible example: Mathematical logic (something objective), essentially, will dictate and put together a system of philosophy for oneself (subjective). His cogito ergo sum is metaphysical, and thus a justifiable starting point for philosophy.

Camus’s project is similar in some ways—he too is looking for a kind of certainty. However, this certainty is not whether something exists, exactly, but rather one is able to live, whether there is a way to orient oneself toward the world that will result in meaningful interaction. Indeed, for Camus, humanity must rebel against the cruel, empty “objective” world. (Dostoevsky’s classic and similar sentiment is noted below as a further example.)

1 and 2 above, I think, are  what we have generally meant by the analytic/continental distinction. Whether or not we should retain those words to describe the distinction (or philosophers themselves) is a different matter altogether.

I wrote this rather quickly, and I’m a little ashamed of it, but I wanted to get it posted or I’d never do it. There are still some issues with my final solution, I think, and I’d like to hear your thoughts about it if you have the time. Let me know, at least if (A) this seems clear in general, and (B) if my proposed definition seems superior or inferior to the preceding definitions.

(“… I have shaped for myself a Credo where everything is clear and sacred for me. This Credo is very simple, here it is: to believe that nothing is more beautiful, profound, sympathetic, reasonable, manly, and more perfect than Christ; and I tell myself with a jealous love not only that there is nothing but that there cannot be anything. Even more, if someone proved to me that Christ is outside the truth, and that in reality the truth were outside of Christ, then I should prefer to remain with Christ rather than with truth.” –Fyodor Dostoevsky)