THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO

SPINOZA ON SUBSTANCE AS CAUSE

A DISSERTATION SUBMITTED TO

THE FACULTY OF THE DIVISION OF THE HUMANITIES

IN CANDIDACY FOR THE DEGREE OF

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

DEPARTMENT OF PHILOSOPHY

BY

KAROLINA HÜBNER

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

JUNE 2010

UMI Number: 3408535

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ii

TABLE OF CONTENTS Acknowledgments………………………………………………………………………….……....iii

Chapter 1. Introduction…………………………………………………………………………...…1

Chapter 2. Cause as formal cause..………………………………………………………….………12

Chapter 3. Spinoza on final causes. ………………………………………………………………...80

Chapter 4. Substance’s infinite effects....…………………………………………………………..176

Works Cited……………………………………………………………………………………...314

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I would like to express my profound thanks to my dissertation committee – Yitzhak Melamed and

Arnold Davidson (co-chairs), Charles Larmore and Steven Nadler – for their time, patience,

kindness, support and, above all, for all that I have been able to learn from them. What follows is

far – very far – from perfect, but it has been made infinitely better by their feedback, questions and

counsel.

I am also immensely grateful for having had the opportunity to learn from Don Rutherford, Michael

Della Rocca and Lilli Alanen, who were kind enough to take me under their intellectual wings at

various points during my graduate career. Eric Schliesser, Gideon Manning and Eric Watkins have

been intellectually inspirational colleagues and friends. I want to thank my family and friends, near

and far, for their love and support. My thanks go also to the University of Chicago and University

of California San Diego philosophy departments’ faculty, students and staff.

Finally, I owe an immeasurable and inexpressible debt to Clinton Tolley, my best friend and my best

teacher, without whom I would have not made it to the other side.

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CHAPTER 1. INTRODUCTION1

Treatments of causality in seventeenth-century philosophy present…a peculiar problem. On the one hand, the notion of causality is central to the period's major positions and disputes in metaphysics and epistemology. On the other hand, few of the most prominent figures…enter into detailed…accounts of the relation of causal dependence… Spinoza is an interesting case in point. Most of the best-known, most characteristic features of his system…are all firmly centered on notions of causal order and dependence. Yet Spinoza says very little to elucidate directly the concept or concepts of causality he relies on.

– M. Wilson, “Spinoza’s causal axiom”, 141

The following is an attempt to begin a fundamental reconstruction of Spinoza’s

causal metaphysics. It is a reconstruction that undermines some of the basic assumptions of

contemporary Spinoza scholarship. In particular, I wish to contest the widespread

interpretative premise that we ought to approach Spinoza’s philosophy through the prism of

the influence on his thought of the Early Modern scientific revolution, and thus regard his

metaphysics as basically a generalization of Cartesian physics.2 This interpretative approach

has two principal consequences, both of which are regarded as self-evidently correct, yet

both of which, I want to show, are in fact profound distortions of Spinoza’s most basic

views. The first is the rampant tendency to construe Spinoza’s notion of “cause” as the

“blind” mechanistic efficient cause. The second is to insist that his metaphysics must have

ontological room for finite individuals, that is, the sort of individuals that are the bread and

butter of physical investigations. I want to demonstrate that approaching Spinoza’s causal

metaphysics from the perspective of the attribute of Thought – as opposed to approaching

1 Asterisks (*) will precede notes, or paragraphs within notes, that consist solely of quotations or references.

Double quotes “ ” indicate citations from primary or secondary sources. Single quotes ‘ ’ indicate my own terminology. Unless otherwise noted, quotes from Spinoza’s writings are taken from the Ethics (Curley

translation). I refer to his Appendix Containing Metaphysical Thoughts as CM; Short Treatise on God, Man and His Well-Being as KV, Theologico-Political Treatise as TTP, the Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect as TdIE and the Political Treatise as TP.

2 (*) Cf. e.g. Carriero’s “Spinoza on final causality”, passim.

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this metaphysics from the perspective of Extension, with the vague hope that by Spinoza’s

notorious parallelism (2p7) conclusions reached through reflection on the nature of bodies

will somehow transfer by an analogy to the sphere of ideas. – is at least as important and

fruitful for grasping Spinoza’s metaphysical doctrines, and especially his causal doctrines.3

The fundamental building blocks of my reconstruction of Spinoza’s causal

metaphysics will be concepts central to Spinoza’s metaphysics: concepts of substance,

essence, cause, God, mode, and finitude. These concepts – which form the subject matter

of the opening lines of Spinoza’s magnum opus, the Ethics – are also the groundwork that

constrains (and, as we shall see4 quite in a certain instances, simply dictates) the rest of

Spinoza’s philosophical views. I hope to provide a more adequate interpretation of these

key metaphysical concepts than is currently on offer by inquiring into Spinoza’s

understanding of the nature of substance as cause. Given that, as we shall see,5 for Spinoza the

question of causality as such is inseparable from the idea of an “essence”, and given

Spinoza’s basic metaphysical theses – such as his substance monism (that is, his doctrine that

there can be only one causally and conceptually independent entity); his identification of this

substance with “God”; and reduction of all other entities to the status of divine properties

or “modes” – clarifying the nature of substantial causality will allow us to shed light on all

the aforementioned concepts, crucial to Spinoza’s metaphysics.

Now the question of the nature of substantial causality within Spinoza’s metaphysics

in fact contains two quite questions that are separable at least in principle . For, first of all,

we can ask about the mode of causality exhibited by Spinoza’s substance – that is, we can ask

how precisely this substance causes. What kind of cause is Spinoza’s God? Here anyone

3 The salient exception to this dominant focus on extension is Della Rocca’s work on Spinoza.

4 See my discussion of the importance of Spinoza’s definition in the last Chapter. 5 See Chapter 2.

3

familiar with the history of philosophy will expect the answer to place Spinoza somewhere

on the spectrum of the Early Modern rejection of the Aristotelian four-cause framework.

Secondly, to ask about the nature of substantial causality as this dissertation does also means

to ask about that which substance brings about: more specifically, to ask about the nature of its

effects, and about the reasons why a Spinozistic substance would cause anything at all.

The structure of the dissertation is thus divided along the lines of these two sub-

questions. The next two Chapters will examine accordingly the mode of substantial causality.

As already noted, to pose this question is to ask where precisely Spinoza’s causal metaphysics

falls within the context of the well-known Early Modern rejection of the Aristotelian model

of causal explanations – dominant among Medieval thinkers – according to which there are

four different types of causes, now widely known under the labels of efficient, formal,

material and final, all cooperating under the guidance of final cause. Here my principal

thesis will be that contrary to the contemporary consensus among scholars, according to

which Spinoza embraces first and foremost mechanistic or “blind” efficient causes, but also

makes room for some final causes, Spinoza in fact embraces a formal-cause model of

causation, and unequivocally eliminates all final causes from his metaphysics.

Having clarified the nature of substantial causality, in the second part of the

dissertation (Chapter 4) I will address the question of what a substance that operates through

this mode of causality causes and why. And here too I will contend that we must reject the

now prevalent understanding of this aspect of Spinoza’s metaphysical picture. For, as I will

show, contrary to how Spinoza is almost without exception interpreted today, a true account

of Nature has in his eyes no room for any finite individuals, and so substance cannot be said

to cause any finite things.

In short, the two principal theses that my dissertation puts forward are that the mode

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of substantial causality is primarily formal and that the effects of substance as cause are

exclusively infinite. In the remainder of this Introduction, I want to flesh out in a bit more

detail the content of these two theses, and to outline the structure of my argument for these

claims.

First of all, in the next Chapter I argue that Spinoza embraces what according to the

philosophical and especially mathematical tradition surrounding him is a formal-cause model

of causation. On this model, causation is the inherently intelligible relation that obtains

between the essence of a thing (for example, a geometrical figure such as a triangle) and the

properties that necessary follow from it (for example, the fact that the sum of the interior

angles of the triangle will equal 360º). For Spinoza, this means that all existing things other

than God– all “modes” – come to be because they are the necessary implications of God's

essence (or, equivalently, God's essential nature as stated in God's definition), and are what

they are qua such properties.

As I also show, formal causality is manifested not only by substance but also by all its

modes, in all their interactions. Hence our recognition of Spinoza’s embrace of this

particular causal model illuminates Spinoza’s view of the nature of causality in general.

Moreover, it also clarifies his understanding of the nature of “essence [essentia]”, since it is

the relation between essence and its necessary properties that constitutes the core of this

causal model.

Furthermore, this discovery of Spinoza’s formal causal model allows us to grasp the

sense in which, according to Spinoza, things can be said to be – as is well-known, since

Aristotle this has been the purview of metaphysics as “first philosophy”. What Spinoza’s

universal endorsement of the formal cause model confirms that – as other scholars have

recognized – for Spinoza to be is to be intelligible, but, more importantly, it shows us finally

5

precisely the kind of intelligibility or explanation that is at stake in this identity claim. More

precisely, the causal thesis that Spinoza conceives of causal relations on the model of a

formal cause entails a further thesis about Spinoza’s views about intelligibility or

conceivability: namely, that for Spinoza being explicable or intelligible is itself best

understood in reference to formal causes – that is, it is best understood as a question of

explanation on the basis of the definition of the essential nature of a given thing, and in terms of

the necessary properties that this definition implies.

In short, in Chapter 2 I show that formal causation not only best describes how

Spinoza understands the nature of causal relations in general, but at the same time provides

us with an explanation for the notorious inextricability of causal and conceptual relations

asserted by Spinoza, as well as with the right model of the nature of conceptual relations in

his philosophy in general. I want to suggest that our recognition of the primacy of the

formal causal model in Spinoza’s metaphysics, and the manifold implications about the

nature of essences, modes and nature of explanation itself that follow from this, furnish us

with new grounds on which we can build a more adequate interpretation of Spinoza’s

metaphysical picture than is currently available.

However, this discovery of Spinoza’s privileging of the formal-cause model also

points to the inadequacy of two of the leading interpretative traditions in contemporary

Spinoza scholarship. According to the first of these traditions, Spinoza must be understood

as a radical Early Modern “mechanist”, upholding the primacy of “blind” efficient causes.

This construal of Spinoza’s metaphysics is, I show in Chapter 2, in no way supported by

Spinoza’s writings. Rather, it appears to be primarily a product of the standard, but, I want

to suggest, highly inaccurate, story about the nature of the philosophical revolution that

occurred during the Early Modern period. This standard picture seems to place undue

6

weight on the importance to Early Modern philosophers of a narrowly-conceived natural

science, and so depicts these philosophers as champions of a mechanistic image of Nature,

intended to supplant without compromise Aristotelian natural-philosophical explanations

given in terms of final causes and “substantial forms”. Spinoza is held up as a representative

of this philosophical tendency, and a radical representative at that, insofar as he is taken to

universalize mechanistic explanation. However, this version of historico-philosophical events

greatly impoverishes the spectrum of causal options in fact embraced by 17th century New

Philosophers (for example, Descartes and Leibniz both embraced final as well as formal

causes). My claim is that Spinoza’s Nature is more like a cosmic mathematical figure than a

brute and blind mechanism. I also suggest how, on the basis of Spinoza’s primary formal

causal model, we must more properly conceive of the nature of “efficient [efficiens]”

causation in his metaphysics. Contrary to dominant interpretations, efficient causes for

Spinoza are not the forces of some blind mechanism. Rather, “efficient causation” is (again,

in line with tradition) Spinoza’s label for formal causality when it is a matter of causing a

separate or distinct thing.

Secondly, to suggest that formal causes supply the right model of the intelligibility of

causal relations and of the nature of conceptual relations in Spinoza’s philosophy in general

is to go against another tradition of Spinoza scholarship, almost as deeply entrenched as the

mechanistic reading of Spinoza’s notion of “cause”. According to this tradition, the link

between causes and reasons is explained by the fact that Spinoza directly identifies mechanistic

causal relations with relations of logical entailment or inference. However, in Chapter 2 I

argue that this ‘logicizing’ approach fails to furnish the correct picture of the kind of

intelligibility Spinoza attributes to Nature, just as the mechanistic interpretations fail to

furnish the right causal picture of Spinoza’s metaphysics. Formal causes provide a model of

7

relation between cause and effect that are simultaneously causal and intrinsically intelligible,

instead of forcing us to find a way to bridge the explanatory chain of ideas and the relevant

chain of “blind”, mechanistic causes.

In the next Chapter (Chapter 3), I examine the fate of yet another of the four

Aristotelian causes – final cause – in Spinoza’s metaphysics, in order to fill out our picture of

the nature of substantial causality in Spinoza’s philosophy. Spinoza’s views on teleology are

perhaps the most notorious among his causal doctrines. The contemporary consensus

among scholars is that there is, after all, room in Spinoza’s metaphysics for some final causes,

at least in the sphere of human action, but perhaps of all finite things – either because

Spinoza intends to retain teleology, or because he simply fails to be consistent in his criticism

of teleology. Thus, according to the school of thought now in ascendance, the sole target of

Spinoza’s anti-teleological polemics is the idea that God acts on ends.

In Chapter 3 I show why this is a misreading of Spinoza. The first thesis I advance in

this Chapter is that Spinoza radically dispenses with all final causes in his metaphysics – not

just at the level of substance but equally (contrary to what is thought by the majority of

commentators today), at the level of modes, including human beings. I show that the

principal arguments used to funnel teleology back into Spinoza’s metaphysics – such as the

insistence that Spinoza’s doctrine of “striving [conatus]” is a teleological doctrine – fail to

secure their conclusions.

One lesson of Chapters 2 and 3 is therefore that we cannot represent the

philosophical alternative facing Spinoza as ‘either teleology or mechanism’, as many scholars

believe, as if Spinoza’s rejection of ends necessarily meant he was inexorably pushed toward

a mechanist worldview. To put Spinoza’s metaphysical options in this way is to paint a false

picture that impoverishes and misrepresents the ontology of causes acknowledged by

8

Spinoza. For in fact his comprehensive rejection of final causes goes hand in hand with his

embrace not of “blind” mechanistic causes but of the intrinsically intelligible formal causality

as his primary causal model.

But the aim of Chapter 3 is not merely to criticize dominant construals of Spinoza’s

views on teleology. For, secondly, I also propose a new, non-teleological interpretation of

“striving” as a basic building block of Spinoza’s metaphysics. I show that, as was the case

with Spinoza’s formal-cause model of causation, Spinoza intends this doctrine to apply to all

things. That is, he must be seen as committed to the existence of a substantial, or divine,

conatus, contrary to contemporary scholarly consensus according to which only finite things

can be said to “strive”. This possibility that the conatus doctrine extends beyond the realm

of modes, has hardly ever been raised by scholars. But our recognition that Spinoza is in

fact committed to the thesis that substance strives, just as modes strive, supplies a much

needed corrective to the dominant interpolations of Spinoza’s conception of God, of modes,

as well as of the causality proper to both. In fact, as I show, “striving” turns out to be

another name Spinoza gives to formal causes: for “striving” is identical to the necessary and

atemporal following of effects from the essence of a thing.

In the next and final Chapter I move from the question of the mode of substantial

causality to the question of the nature of its effects, that is, from asking how substance causes

to asking what it causes. I approach this problem by way of recalling the now neglected

Idealist interpretation of Spinoza as an “acosmic” thinker – that is, one who, whether

intentionally or not, denies the existence of a world of finite individuals, asserting the reality

of the one infinite and undifferentiated substance alone. The most formidable version of

the Idealist charge, and one which scholars have yet to address adequately, is that regardless

of what propositions and doctrines Spinoza may have overtly asserted – many of which

9

ostensibly at least commit him to the existence of things other than substance – he is simply

not entitled, by the premises of his own system, to such a view, nor to any doctrines that rely

on it. Ultimately if Spinoza cannot demonstrate why, in his necessitarian framework,

substance must produce things other than itself – i.e., demonstrate that the existence of

such entities must be deducible from the essence of substance – then his belief that his

metaphysics has room for such entities is without grounds.

The regrettable lack of contemporary interest in the possibility that Spinoza’s

metaphysics is an acosmic metaphysics may be explained in part by the historical turn of

Anglo-Saxon scholarship – already noted above – toward interpretations that place the

greatest weight on the influence on Spinoza’s thought of the Early Modern scientific

revolution. On this approach Spinoza’s metaphysics is at its core a generalization of

Cartesian physics, and so it is simply absurd to suppose that it treats as illusory the very

subject matter of this physics – the finite bodies that move and rest in accordance with

determinate laws. In Chapter 2 I will have shown why the interpretation of Spinoza’s notion

of “cause” in terms of “blind’ mechanism endorsed by this school of thought must be

viewed as erroneous. In this final Chapter I will show analogously that, contrary to what is

assumed without exception in contemporary scholarship, Spinoza is in fact not committed to

the reality of finite things: from the point of view of a metaphysically rigorous account of

what is, finite things do not exist for Spinoza. In particular, I will argue that the aspect of

finitude that cements the irreality of finite things is their constitutive reference to negation: the

exclusion of finite things from the nature of what truly is hinges on Spinoza’s premise that

what is, and what can be grasped by God’s intellect, does not involve any negation. Because

finite things by definition are constituted for Spinoza by means of negation, this precludes

them from showing up in a true account of Nature.

10

To this extent there is therefore a substantial kernel of truth in the now largely

neglected Idealist interpretations of Spinoza’s metaphysics. However, I also show that the

further Idealist claim that for Spinoza only the infinite substance exists must be rejected. I

argue that this can be garnered already from Spinoza’s opening official “definition” of

substance. I show how Spinoza’s conception of the essential nature of “substance”, as

expressed in this definition, necessitates things other than substance (specifically, an infinite

series of infinite modes of thought, and an infinity of “attributes”) on the condition that

substance itself is shown to exist. This analysis of Spinoza’s definition of substance

furthermore allows us to recognize what to my knowledge has not been recognized before,

namely that Spinoza conceives of substance as such as intrinsically a “thinking thing”.

I conclude therefore that we can accept neither the acosmic picture of Spinoza’s

metaphysics, on which there is nothing but an undifferentiated and infinite substance, nor

what we could call the ‘finitist-pluralist’ picture, now dominating Spinoza scholarship, on

which a true account of Nature would have room for finite things. I argue that instead we

must see Spinoza as an infinitist pluralist – that is, as someone who believes that a true account

of Nature has room solely for infinite entities: both infinite modes and the infinite substance

with its infinite “attributes”, or ways of intelligibly being.

However, to the extent that this analysis reveals the extraordinary degree to which

Spinoza’s entire ontological edifice is implicit already in his definitions, rebutting the Idealist

criticism of his metaphysics will require us to demonstrate also that these definitions

themselves are justifiable. Doubts about Spinoza’s right to claim that his notions of

“substance” or “mode” indeed adequately reflects the essential natures of what is, as

Spinoza asserts, would otherwise cast doubt on the soundness of his whole system. And so

in the conclusion of the dissertation I suggest in what sense the pivotal definitions of

11

Spinoza’s Ethics could be seen as self-evident propositions.

12

CHAPTER 2: CAUSE AS FORMAL CAUSE

[A]ll formal and final causes as modes of explanation disappear from – or are rejected by – the new science and are replaced by efficient and even material ones. Only these latter have right of way and are admitted to existence in the new universe of hypostatized geometry.

– Koyré, “The Significance of the Newtonian Synthesis”

Spinoza, like Descartes, was an adherent of the 17th-century mechanistic program which tried to explain each thing’s “secondary” qualities… as being nothing more than functions of “primary” qualities, such as the size, shape and motion of the thing’s constituent particles. - Curley, Behind the Geometrical Method, 33

§1. Introduction

As noted briefly earlier, the standard picture of Early Modern philosophers depicts

them as, in one way or another, fervent champions of a ‘mechanistic’ image of Nature, eager

to replace natural-philosophical explanations given in terms of Aristotelian “final causes”

and “substantial forms” with explanations that appeal exclusively to “blind” “efficient

causes”.1 Typically, Spinoza is held up as a representative of this philosophical tendency, and

1 (*) Cf. e.g. Ariew’s and Watkins’s assertion that “the substantial forms and primary matter of the scholastics were giving way to a new mechanistic world of geometrical bodies, corpuscles, or atoms in motion.” (Readings in Modern Philosophy, v.1, “General Introduction”, vii); Des Chene’s claim that “scholastic matter and form give way to a ‘mechanical’ matter.. Scholastic form …is supplanted by figure – the shapes attributed to elementary parts or corpuscles or matter – and texture or configuation – the various manners of combination of those elementary parts… ‘[E]xplanation’ means a….causal account by which it is shown that matter thus configured would have the effects to be explained…[T]he primary object of natural philosophy is no longer powers and operations, but the laws of nature…yield[ing] an efficient-causal account of order in the natural world” (“From natural philosophy to natural science”, 68-9); Clatterbaugh’s claim that “The moderns discard talk about the four causes in favor of explanations in terms of efficient causation only.” (The Causation Debate in Early Modern Philosophy [hereafter, Causation Debate], 4); cf. also Des Chene “On ends and laws”, 156; Machamer, “Galileo…offered, in place of the Aristotelian categories, a set of mechanical concepts that were accepted by almost everyone who afterwards developed the ‘new sciences’, and which, in

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a radical representative at that, insofar as he is taken to universalize this kind of mechanistic

explanation. Thus John Carriero, for example, asserts that Spinoza extends “the sort of

causality the new scientists find in the corporeal world”, a “blind” efficient causality, to “all

of nature”2, thus also the realm of the mind. Such explicitly “mechanistic” interpretations of

Spinoza have been advocated by Bennett,3 Donagan,4 Hampshire,5 Lin,6 Beiser,7 Manning,8

Israel9 and Wolfson,10 to name just a few scholars.11 And even those interpretations of

some form or another, became the hallmark of the new philosophy” (“Galileo Galilei”); and Beiser’s diagnosis that Cartesian mechanism was the “dominant paradigm of explanation” until the “close of the eighteenth century, when Hegel and the romantic generation came of age” and when mechanism made way for Hegel’s “organic” explanation of Nature in terms of Aristotelian “formal-final” causality (Hegel, 84, 66-67). As I shall argue shortly, Spinoza’s view of causality is much closer to Hegel’s when the latter is interpreted in these terms than Beiser allows.

2 (*) “Spinoza on final causality”, 121, 130. Carriero remarks, “By ‘the necessity of the nature of the efficient cause’ I take Spinoza to mean what I have referred to as a blind efficient cause” (ibid, 130). Cf. also his “Spinoza’s views on necessity from a historical perspective” [hereafter “Spinoza’s views on necessity”], 61ff.

3 (*) Bennett writes, e.g. “It is a famous fact about Spinoza that he rejected 'final causes', teleological explanations, anything in the nature of a pull rather than a push…Spinoza argues that nothing has a final cause because everything has an efficient cause” (A Study of Spinoza’s Ethics [hereafter, Study], Ch. 9 [Introduction] and §51.2). For Bennett’s use of term “mechanistic” to describe Spinoza cf. e.g. Study §53.3. Cf. also Bennett’s Learning from Six Philosophers, 223. (It should be noted, however, that in Bennett’s view Spinoza ultimately fails to live up to his purely mechanistic intentions and reintroduces teleology; Study §57.5. See Chapter 3 for my discussion of Spinoza’s teleology. Cf. also Bennett’s description of causality in the extended realm as “impact mechanics” ( “Spinoza’s metaphysics”, 62, in the Cambridge Companion to Spinoza)

4 (*) Donagan asserts e.g. that Spinoza embraces a “mechanical conception of nature”, as “proposed by Descartes” (Spinoza, 62-3).

5 (*) Hampshire notes, e.g. “Spinoza is in effect saying that the extended world is to be conceived as a self-contained, and all-inclusive, mechanical system” (Spinoza, 71).

6 (*) Lin imputes to Spinoza a commitment to “mechanistic causal explanations” and “mechanistically respectable psychological explanations” (“Teleology and Human Action in Spinoza” [hereafter, “Teleology”] (333, cf. 349). However, following Garrett, Lin deems that Spinoza also makes room for final causes in this mechanistic Nature (ibid, 318-19). I return to this interpretation in the next Chapter.

7 (*) Beiser asserts that Spinoza is “an arch-mechanist: his model of explanation and his concept of matter, were taken directly from Descartes. Like Descartes, Spinoza…saw the model of explanation as efficient causality” (Hegel, 91); “Spinoza’s single universal substance was in fact nothing more than a giant machine” (ibid).

8 (*) Cf. e.g. “Spinoza's Physical Theory”. 9 (*) See e.g. his Radical Enlightenment, 243, 246. 10 (*) Wolfson writes, that Spinoza “insists that the causality must be mechanical and not

intentional” (Philosophy of Spinoza [hereafter, PS], 89); cf. also his claim Spinoza “reduc[es] the formal to the efficient cause” (ibid, 422).

14

Spinoza’s metaphysics that do not overtly employ the label “mechanism” almost without

exception nonetheless regard “efficient causation” to be the most apt characterization of the

causation that Spinoza attributes to Nature.12

It is indeed undeniable that Spinoza plays the role of this kind a ‘mechanistic’

philosopher rather well if one puts a lot of weight in one’s interpretation on the so-called

‘Physical Digression’ in the Ethics (II/97-103); or on Spinoza’s notorious banishment of

divine final causes;13 or on the fact that among his cardinal philosophical influences Spinoza

counts the paradigmatic ‘mechanists’, Descartes and Hobbes; or, finally, on the explicit (if

actually relatively rare14) references in Spinoza’s writings to “efficient causes”– not least his

declaration in 1p16c1 that God is an “efficient cause [causa efficiens]”.

11 (*) Cf. also e.g. Clatterbaugh who argues that Spinoza “agrees with Descartes, Hobbes, and Gassendi that material bodies interact in a single mechanical system” and that “Spinoza recognizes only efficient causation” (Causation Debate, 139, 133; cf. also 48, 135).

12 (*) See e.g. Curley (“To the extent that [Spinoza] uses the Aristotelian classification of causes, God is described only as the efficient cause of his modes.” (Spinoza’s Metaphysics: An Essay in Interpretation [hereafter SM] 164fn18, cf. 89-90); Nadler (“God or Nature is the uncaused substance that is the primary and universal efficient cause of everything else”, “To put it in terms of Aristotelian philosophy, with which Spinoza was familiar, there are no ‘final causes’; everything is brought about solely through the operation of efficient causation” [Spinoza’s Ethics: An Introduction (hereafter Spinoza’s Ethics), 85, 114]; Garber, Henry, Joy & Gabbey (“The world that [Spinoza] presents in the Ethica is broadly Cartesian. Spinoza’s bodies…are distinguished from one another in terms of size, shape, and motion alone” [“New doctrines of body and its powers, place and space”, 592]); and Bolton (in the context of discussing mechanistic views, she stresses that “Spinoza contrived to make divine nature the efficient cause of essences and eternal truths” [“Universals, essences, and abstract entities”, 198; ital. in the orig.]).

13 In the next Chapter I address the topic of teleology in detail. Several commentators explicitly link Spinoza’s rejection of final causes with his embrace of

an efficiently-causal picture of Nature. E.g. Bennett comments that “Spinoza argues that nothing has a final cause because everything has an efficient cause” (Study, §51.2). Cf. also Carriero: “…if the motive tendencies connected with the human body are blind, that is, if they are not end-governed…”; “blind, as opposed to end-guided” (“Spinoza on final causality”, 137, 121; my ital.); Wolfson: “[Spinoza] insists that the causality must be mechanical and not intentional” (PS, 89); and Nadler: “To put it in terms of Aristotelian philosophy…there are no ‘final causes’; everything is brought about solely through the operation of efficient causation” (Spinoza’s Ethics, 114). In the next Chapter I argue that Spinoza’s rejection of final causes is tied more closely to his embrace of formal causes, rather than efficient ones.

14 The term “efficient cause” does not appear at all either in the TdIE nor in the TP. In the Ethics, it turns up in 1p16c1; 1p25; 1p26d; 1p33s1; 2def5exp; 2p5, 3p15cor; 3p16,d; 3p17s; 4Pref

15

Nonetheless, it is precisely this superficially quite plausible scholarly consensus

according to which in his metaphysics Spinoza privileges “efficient” causality understood in

terms of “blind” mechanistic causes familiar from Cartesian physics, that I wish to challenge

in the present Chapter. For, as we shall see in what follows, if we were not expecting to find

in Spinoza’s writings an expression of the famed Early Modern ‘mechanistic’ worldview, it is

not clear that the text itself would entitle us to it.15 (Indeed, even the evidence of the

Physical Digression, the alleged redoubt of mechanistic interpretations, is equivocal: for

Spinoza’s claim there is that an “individual [individuum]” is that entity which maintains the

same “form [forma]” [2L4-7].)

Now, in contemporary Spinoza scholarship, those who have also questioned this

‘mechanistic’ reading of Spinoza – most famously perhaps Don Garrett – have wished to

show that in Spinoza’s philosophy efficient causes coexist with final causes.16 And these two

alternatives – of pure ‘mechanism’ and of ‘mechanism’ welded with occasional ends –

dominate contemporary Spinoza scholarship, and mold the current debate about Spinoza’s

views on the metaphysics of causation.17 In this Chapter I want show that neither of these

[II/207]; and 4AppVI. In the TTP, Spinoza mentions the term only once (3.12); in the CM, only three times – in a row (2.10; I/268). To put things in perspective, just in the Ethics, Spinoza uses the term “free cause” 9 times; “proximate cause” 6 times; “adequate cause” 7 times; “final cause” or “end” over 30 times, and “formal cause” twice.

15 Independent albeit minor grounds for being skeptical of the importance of physics for Spinoza are arguably furnished by the sheer brevity of his ‘physics’ in the Ethics – which rather tellingly has become known among commentators as a “Digression”. Cf. also Spinoza’s comment that the KV is not concerned with questions of “natural science”, such as “motion” (KV I.9; I/48).

Cf. Leibniz’s repeated denunciations of the explanatory sufficiency of mechanism, e.g. in On Nature Itself (Ariew and Garber [hereafter AG], 156-7).

16 (*) See Garrett’s “Teleology in Spinoza and Early Modern Philosophy” (hereafter, “Teleology in Spinoza”); Lin backs Garrett’s reading in his “Teleology” (318-19). For another endorsement of teleology in Spinoza see Curley’s “On Bennett’s Spinoza: The Issue of Teleology”. And, as already noted, Bennett concludes that, despite his intentions, Spinoza reintroduces teleology (Study §57.5).

17 There are, however, alternatives to such ‘mechanistic’ interpretations of Spinoza that had been proposed earlier in the century, and I will return to these shortly. I will also shortly elaborate on

16

alternatives is correct. More precisely, I want to show the error of the conviction, common

to both of these dominant approaches, that Spinoza’s Nature is governed primarily (or even

exclusively) by efficient causes understood ‘mechanistically’, and hence that the fundamental

interpretative problem regarding Spinoza’s views on causation is whether or not he

champions ‘mechanistic’, or “blind”, efficient causes exclusively, or also allows for some

final causes. For, as I will show in what follows, Spinoza’s primary conception of a “cause”

is in fact not that of an “efficient” cause, at least not when the latter is understood in terms

of blind “pushes” (to use Bennett’s favorite imagery). What I will argue instead is that

Spinoza’s fundamental causal model is much closer to what the philosophical tradition of his

time and prior to it labeled formal causality, and so that this is the mode of causality that

Spinoza has in mind when he refers to “cause [causa]” without qualifying this noun in any

way, as is most often the case in his texts.

To be clear, I do not wish to imply that Spinoza resuscitates Aristotelian “substantial

forms”, nearly universally maligned by his contemporaries18 and indeed explicitly denounced

a contemporary alternative closer to my own views, outlined in Carraud’s recent Causa sive ratio (hereafter, CSR).

I also wish to mention here Della Rocca’s ‘conceptualist’ reading of Spinoza, which constitutes another contemporary alternative to purely ‘mechanistic’ readings. Della Rocca has written many superb pages arguing for the priority of conceptual considerations over causal ones in Spinoza, insisting that “Spinoza accepts that causation is just conceptual connection… causal connections are grounded in and stem from conceptual connections” (Spinoza, 44; cf. also e.g. his “A Rationalist Manifesto: Spinoza and the Principle of Sufficient Reason” [hereafter, “Rationalist Manifesto”]). I do not have room to address Della Rocca's interpretation here, but I’d like to suggest at least that it’s not clear that this interpretation fleshes out satisfactorily what kind of “conceptual connection” it is that Spinoza privileges, that is, elaborates sufficiently on the precise nature of the intelligibility championed by Spinoza. His endorsement of Garrett’s relevance logic interpretation (to which I return shortly) in the “Rationalist Manifesto” (92fn12), suggests that he identifies this intelligibility as first of all logical in nature. I argue for the insufficiency of such logicising readings of Spinoza below.

18 (*) Cf. e.g. Descartes, AT II 74, 212-3, 364, 367; AT III 212, 420, 435, 506, 648-9, 667-8. However, it should be noted that Descartes’s degree of tolerance substantial forms, especially in the human case, is a subject of some controversy among scholars (cf. e.g. Hoffman, “Unity of Descartes’s Man”).

17

by Spinoza himself.19 By “formal causation” I do not mean causation by substantial forms,

although this is certainly the way this term would have been understood by an orthodox

Aristotelian. But, as we shall see, it is a mistake to assume that in the eyes of the Early

Moderns, an ontology of substantial forms (and indeed of prime matter as their counterpart)

constituted a necessary or irreducible element of formal causation. It is widely recognized

today20 that 17th thinkers redefined the nature of efficient causality in a manner distinct from

its Aristotelian origins (for example, efficient causes were no longer seen as subordinate to,

and requiring the guidance of, final causes). I want to suggest that at least some of the Early

Moderns exercised the same conceptual freedom when it came to their inheritance of the

notion of a formal cause, and that they no longer viewed an ontology of substantial forms as

a necessary condition or component of formal causal relations, reducing the latter solely to

the relationship between essences and properties, keeping this element of the Aristotelian

conception alone. As Descartes notes, although

no natural action at all can be explained by these substantial forms, since their [Aristotelian] defenders admit than they are occult and that they do not understand them themselves…Essential forms explained in our fashion, on the other hand, give manifest and mathematical reasons for natural actions. (Letter to Regius, Jan 1642; AT III 506; my ital.)21

The aspect of formal causality that Early Moderns such as Descartes, Arnauld and, I want to

suggest, also Spinoza, do retain and champion is the idea that to explain a thing by appealing

to a “formal cause” is to show how certain properties necessarily follow from the essence of some

19 (*) Cf. e.g. Spinoza’s 1674(?) letter to Hugo Boxel (Ep. 56). 20 (*) See e.g. Carriero, “Spinoza’s views on necessity”. 21 (*) Cf. Leibniz: “it was necessary to restore, and, as it were, rehabilitate the substantial forms

which are in such disrepute today, but in a way that would render them intelligible, and separate the use one should make of them from the abuse that has been made of them” (A New System of the Nature and Communication of Substances, and of the Union of the Soul and Body, AG 139).

I will come back to the significance of mathematics in the context of formal causation.

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thing. This is for example how the idea of a “formal cause” was understood by Arnauld and

Nicole in the Port-Royal Logique:

The form [La forme] is that which renders a thing what it is [rend une chose telle]…whether it be a thing really distinguished from the matter, according to the opinion of the schools, or simply the arrangement of parts [seulement l'arrangement des parties]. It is by the knowledge of this form that we are able to explain properties [C'est par la connaissance de cette forme qu'on en doit expliquer les propriétés]. 22

Or, to use Descartes’s formulation, a formal cause is the “reason derived from [the] essence”

of a thing [causam formalem, sive rationem ab essentia…petitam]” (Fourth Repl., AT VII 236).23

That is, according to the philosophical tradition in which was Spinoza rooted, to explain

something on the basis of its essence is to give a formal-causal explanation: a formal cause

gives the reason why some thing is what it is, and has the properties it has. And indeed,

when Spinoza himself uses the term causa formalis in the Ethics, it is to illustrate the way ideas

of all things – ideas of all divine properties – must follow from the idea of God's essence.24

My contention is that formal causation is Spinoza’s primary model of causation in

general: it is formal cause that I believe provides the best model for Spinoza’s notion of causa

in general, whether the causal relation in question is the production of effects by God's

essence, by the essences of a single mode, or the collaborative production of effects by two

or more modes. To put this still differently, my claim is that Spinoza’s God is a formal cause

qua cause of his own existence, as well as qua cause of his modes (or his propria – properties

22 (*) La logique ou l'art de penser (hereafter, PRL), 225/245. 23 (*) Descartes also remarks in these Replies that he is “taking the whole essence of a thing

[integram rei essentiam] to be its formal cause” (ibid, AT VII 242). (To be clear, in both cases Descartes is talking about divine essence specifically.)

24 (*) 5p31: “The third kind of knowledge depends on the Mind, as on a formal cause, insofar as the Mind itself is eternal. Dem.: The Mind…insofar as it is eternal, it has knowledge of God, knowledge which is necessarily adequate (by 2p46). And therefore, the Mind, insofar as it is eternal, is capable of knowing all those things which can follow from this given knowledge of God (by 2p40), i.e., of knowing things by the third kind of knowledge (see the Def. of this in 2p40s2); therefore, the Mind, insofar as it is eternal, is the adequate, or formal, cause of the third kind of knowledge (by 3def1), q.e.d.”

19

that follow necessarily from its essence25); that each mode is a formal cause of all its propria;

26 and, finally, that whenever finite modes interact, the effect of that interaction also has to

be understood as an effect of the formal cause constituted by the interacting finite modes

together. I believe that all these various instances of causation in Spinoza’s metaphysics can

be understood adequately only when regarded first and foremost as a species of formal

causation. Since this accounts for all causal relations in Spinoza’s metaphysics, whatever

causal model describes these causal relations most accurately deserves the title of Spinoza’s

‘fundamental’ model of causation.

However, my principal thesis about Spinoza’s metaphysics of causation – the claim

that Spinoza conceives of causal relations on a formal-cause model – has immediate

repercussions also for how we understand Spinoza’s views on explanation or intelligibility.

That Spinoza connects causation and intelligibility in an extraordinarily close manner is a

well-known feature of his philosophy. Perhaps the most famous expression of this

commitment is 1ax4, which, echoing the Aristotelian conception of the nature of scientific

knowledge, announces that “The knowledge of an effect depends on, and involves, the

knowledge of its cause”. Because Spinoza conceives (or so I want to claim) of causal

relations on the model of a formal cause, this dictates that for him to make a thing

intelligible is to show in what way it is a necessary property that follows from the essence or

essences of its cause or causes (ultimately, in every instance, from the essence of God). In

25 Cf. Spinoza’s use of “propria” in KV 1.3 (I/35). In the Aristotelian tradition a proprium technically speaking is an attribute logically deducible from the essential constituents of a species, i.e. from genus and specific difference (on this see e.g. Nuchelmans, “Logic in the 17th Century: Preliminary Remarks and the Constituents of Propositions” [hereafter, “Logic in the 17th Century”], 112). Spinoza rejects this Aristotelian notion of definition (see KV 1.7) and so presumably this aspect of the notion of a proprium.

26 Thus formal causation, as I shall argue in more detail in the next Chapter, will also encompass everything that falls under the scope of the conatus doctrine.

20

short, my claim in this Chapter will be that both Spinoza’s views about the nature of

causality, and his views about the nature of intelligibility are best approached in terms of a

formal-cause model, and described in terms of essence-to-propria relations: formal causation

not only best describes how Spinoza understands the nature of causal relations, but at the

same time provides us with the right model of the conceptual aspect of causal relations in his

metaphysics, as well as with an explanation for the inextricability of causal and conceptual

relations asserted by Spinoza.27

The idea that Spinoza’s metaphysics incorporates elements of something like formal

causation is not new;28 however, these days this proposal carries regrettably little influence.

This Chapter is thus intended to make the case for why Spinoza scholars can no longer

afford to ignore or push to the margins this interpretative line. The fact that the term

“formal cause [causa formalis]” itself does not richly dot the landscape of Spinoza’s writings

(Spinoza in fact uses this precise turn of phrase only twice in the Ethics, in very close

proximity – in 5p31 and its demonstration), may indeed feed skepticism about this thesis.

However, it is easy to imagine why a philosopher who rejects the Aristotelian conceptual

apparatus of “substantial forms” and final causes would be wary of using a term which, to an

imprudent reader, may suggest his embrace of such occult entities. I will later suggest

moreover what terminology in Spinoza’s system supplants this expression “formal cause”.

27 Cf. Della Rocca for a different proposal: “Why does Spinoza assimilate causal and conceptual dependence in this way? One can see him as guided by the drive for unification demanded by his rationalism and naturalism. It's as if Spinoza is saying to Descartes: “you have no good reason to separate these kinds of [causal and conceptual] dependence, and if you do separate them, you are making causal relations unintelligible.” (Spinoza, 44)

28 This idea emerges in Gueroult’s and Joachim’s commentaries on Spinoza’s philosophy; see Gueroult's Spinoza I, 248ff. Joachim suggests that “Cause and effect, e. g., to Spinoza, mean ground and consequent; efficient and formal cause are one and the same” (A Study of the Ethics of Spinoza [hereafter, Study] 12). More recently, this interpretative line has been picked up by Vincent Carraud (CSR, 295ff.). I will reserve my comments about my agreement and disagreements with these commentators for the notes, and in the body of the Chapter will focus primarily on fleshing out my own proposal.

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Let me outline in a little more detail how, in order to make this case, I will proceed in

the remainder of this Chapter. In section §3, I want to examine more closely Descartes’s

reconception of the nature of a formal cause. For although at the beginning of the Chapter I

suggested that Spinoza’s Cartesian heritage might be seen as a reason to regard Spinoza as a

paradigmatically ‘mechanistic’ philosopher, Descartes’s views on causation, and what

Spinoza inherits of them, turn out to be – unsurprisingly – a much more complicated matter

than that earlier comment may have implied. Indeed, I will contend that Descartes’s

reconception of the Aristotelian formal cause, as outlined in his Replies to the Fourth Objections

to his Meditations on First Philosophy, can be plausibly seen as furnishing a ‘prototype’ of the

Spinozistic formal cause, and as a likely proximate source for Spinoza's own conception

(even if, as we shall see, Descartes himself makes a more restricted use of the notion than

Spinoza does).

With this Cartesian ‘prototype’ of formal cause in the background, in the next

section (§4), I will turn to Spinoza’s own writings, in order to flesh his own conception of

formal causes. My primary evidence for the claim that Spinoza’s primary causal model is

that of formal causality will be textual. More precisely, I will show that both key doctrinal

statements Spinoza makes about the nature of causation, as well as his terminological and

rhetorical depictions of causation – especially his reliance on geometrical and definitional

analogies and on the language of “following [sequi]” to describe causal relations, as well as his

assertion of the equivalence of causa and ratio – all quite clearly point toward a formal-cause

model of causation. Moreover, I will suggest that Spinoza’s preferred term for “formal

cause” – a term rather scarce, as already noted, in his own writings – is “cause or reason

22

[causa seu ratio]”, a well-known formula that, once again, echoes Descartes’s own descriptions

of formal causes. 29

In the final section (§5) of the Chapter, I will propose how on the basis of this

underlying formal-causal model we are to conceive of efficient causation in Spinoza’s system.

For in contending that Spinoza’s fundamental causal model is best describable by reference

to what the philosophical tradition of his time understood as “formal causality”, I do not

wish to imply that there are no “efficient” causes in Spinoza’s metaphysics whatsoever.

Rather my claim is that it is only from the vantage point of our recognition that formal

causation is Spinoza’s primary causal model that we can adequately grasp what Spinoza

means by “efficient cause” when he resorts to this label. More specifically, I will argue that,

again in line with tradition, Spinoza reserves the nomenclature of “efficient” causes for

causal relations that obtain two different res.

But before I address these elements of my positive account of Spinozistic formal

causality, in the next section (§2), I want to attend first to the topic of intelligibility of causal

relations within Spinoza’s system. For to suggest, as I have done above, that it is formal

causes that supply the right model of the intelligibility of causal relations – and thus

ultimately of all that is – in Spinoza’s metaphysics is to go against a tradition of Spinoza

scholarship almost as deeply entrenched as the mechanistic reading. For typically

commentators try to explain the well-known interdependence of causation and explanation

in Spinoza’s metaphysics by hypothesizing that Spinoza must mean to identify causal relations

(usually understood, as we have seen, as blind mechanistic causal relations) directly with

relations of logical entailment or inference, and that it is such logical entailment or inference

29 Moreover, we could note that Spinoza also employs the term “form” interchangeably with the term “essence” in his writings (cf. e.g. 1p8s2 (II/49); 4pref (II/208); Pref3 (II/138); 4App27 (II/273)).

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that Spinoza has in mind when he describes causal relations, as he very often does, in terms

of things “following [sequi]” from one another.30 So my thesis of the centrality of formal

causes to Spinoza’s metaphysics is apt to generate opposition not only from those who

endorse a blind-mechanistic reading of his metaphysics, but also on a second interpretative

front – on the side of the intelligible, so to speak. What I want to do in the next section is to

flesh out this now-dominant ‘logicising’ approach to Spinoza’s metaphysics, in order to show

that there are good reasons to doubt that it furnishes the right picture of the intelligibility

Spinoza attributes to Nature – just as mechanistic interpretations fail to furnish the right

causal picture of his metaphysics.

§2. Spinoza’s metaphysical logic

[T]his much may be said with certainty: Spinoza conceives the causal relation between substance and its modes to be in some way analogous to the logical relation between ground and consequent.

– Curley, Spinoza’s Metaphysics, 45-6

The now-dominant ‘logicising’ interpretation of Spinoza’s causal views has been

endorsed, at one time or another, and in one variant or another, by Allison,31 Bennett,32

Curley,33 Della Rocca,34 Don Garrett, Joachim,35 and Yovel,36 among others. In making their

30 For now, I’ll be using terms like “entailment” and “inference” loosely and interchangeably; one of my aims is to clarify the question of the kind of “entailment” Spinoza can have in mind.

(*) Cf. e.g. Di Giovanni, who describes Jacobi’s view of Spinoza’s God as “sheer power that acts blindly just for the sake of acting, and as it acts the infinite chains of mechanical and logical necessity unfold before our yes” (“The first twenty years of critique: the Spinoza connection”, Cambridge Companion to Kant, 425; cf. Jacobi, Spinozabriefe p 26, 86-107).

31 (*) Allison notes, e.g. “God, who is described as the ‘efficient cause’ of all things…must be conceived as the logical ground from which all things follow…” (Benedict de Spinoza [hereafter, Spinoza], 71; cf. 69, 73).

32 (*) Bennett writes, e.g., “[Spinoza] thinks that a cause relates to its effect as a premise does to conclusion which follows from it” (Study, §8.3).

33 (*) Curley notes, e.g. “One thing every interpreter of Spinoza agrees on is that Spinoza connects the causal relation with the relation of logical consequence.” (“On Bennett’s interpretation of Spinoza’s monism”, 48).

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case, proponents of such readings immediately face the difficulty that Spinoza says next to

nothing in his writings about how he understands anything like logical entailment or

inference.37 As a result of such a textual vacuum, many of the commentators convinced of

the general correctness of such a ‘logicising’ approach have more or less simply asserted the

existence of a direct identity between logical and causal relations in Spinoza’s metaphysics,

34 In Spinoza, Della Rocca writes about things “logically following” from God’s “definition” (10). Cf. also: for Spinoza, “Effects depend on and are explained by their causes in a way in which the fact that 2 + 2 = 4 does not depend on or is not conceived through the fact that Bush is president. But exactly how to characterize this notion of dependence is, of course, far from clear, and Spinoza does not give us the resources to do so. [fn:] For a brief discussion, see Don Garrett, ‘Spinoza's Necessitarianism’…What Spinoza needs here is some kind of relevance logic.” (“A Rationalist Manifesto”, 81, 92).

Della Rocca and Garrett are right to point out the insufficiency of the strict entailment model (I will return to this issue and Garrett’s relevance logic proposal shortly). What I want to show in this Chapter is that Spinoza does give us a more precise account of the conceptual relation of dependence between causes and effects which has a specific directionality and priority that excludes any entailment between the fact that “Bush is president” and “2 + 2 = 4”: it is precisely the model of formal causality.

35 Joachim’s account does not distinguish Spinoza’s mathematical or geometrical analogies from the purely logical relation of ground to consequent (whereas as we shall see shortly the former were understood by Spinoza’s predecessors and contemporaries as manifesting formal-causal relations) (cf. e.g. Study, 231 for an explicit treatment of ‘geometrical’ and ‘logical’ as equivalent descriptions). Moreover, Joachim treats both kinds of relations as subtypes of relations holding within signifying or semantic wholes understood teleologically (ibid, 230-1), which imposes on Spinoza a framework that is both foreign to him and contrary to his anti-teleological commitments.

36 (*) Yovel declares, “All necessity is inherently logical, as is also made clear by the demonstration to the crucial EIpl6, where Spinoza construes cosmic particularization as a chain of logical inferences based on the intellect”; “The law [of nature] is generated in nature by immanent logical derivation.” (“The Infinite Mode and Natural Laws in Spinoza”, 87, 93).

37 One could fill in some of the gaps in our picture of how Spinoza understood anything like conceptual ‘entailment’ by appealing to other, more systematically developed discussions of conceptual dependency in the Early Modern period, ones that seem to mirror quite closely the little that Spinoza does say about the nature of logical entailment. For example, one could appeal to to Arnauld and Nicole’s notion of the “comprehension” of an idea, where what “follows” from a given general idea are ineradicable, constitutive “attributes”, or other, more general notions (PRL I.6.59; cf. I.2.48; cf. Descartes, First Rep. [AT VII 116-120]), as well as to Leibniz’s notion of the complete individual concept. Both Leibniz and Arnauld and Nicole, like Spinoza, choose ideas of geometrical entities specifically as models of the relevant type of relations of conceptual dependency among ideas. (Although of course considerable caveats would have to be added to any suggestion of a similarity on these points between Spinoza and Leibniz, not least since what follows from the definition of the essence of a Spinozist individual is not “everything that can truly be said of it”, and since for Leibniz the “following” at stake is based also on God's “free decrees”, and not just on relations between ideas).

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without supplying much detail about how precisely to understand this identity, Spinoza’s

reasons for assuming it, or the precise nature of Spinozistic ‘inference’.38

There are some notable exceptions to this.39 Don Garrett in particular has given a

very interesting, and requisitely systematic, answer to the question about the kind of

metaphysical logic Spinoza might have endorsed, suggesting that it is relevance logic that

would furnish the best model for Spinozistic entailment.40 Garrett’s thesis has received some

attention (it was endorsed, for example, by Della Rocca),41 although not as much attention as

it ought to have received it seems, given that it is a rare attempt to address such a central

tenet of Spinoza’s philosophy. I want to summarize Garrett’s argument here briefly, for it

represents the most developed and formidable version of the logicising approach to

Spinoza’s metaphysics.

38 Although to be clear some scholars have addressed particular aspects of Spinoza’s logical picture, especially his views on modality (cf. e.g. Bennett, Study, §27.5).

39 Bennett laudably poses the question of Spinoza’s views on logic (Study, §27.5) and in particular assesses Spinoza’s potential logical views in terms of a logic of “possible worlds” (ibid, §6.1, §27.3, §54.4; cf. also Donagan’s discussion of Spinoza in these terms [Spinoza, 113]). However, as has been pointed out repeatedly by commentators, it is important to tread carefully when considering Spinoza’s views in terms of possible worlds: for example, his conception of essence clearly does not mean whatever is necessarily true of a thing in every possible world.

Curley, who also endorses the logicising approach, does try to flesh out the logical conception of “following”, but does so by inserting Spinozistic “following” into the framework of scientific laws (such that on Curley’s account singular propositions describing the world “follow” logically from scientific laws together with other singular propositions; statements of laws are themselves logically derivable from a basic set of axioms [SM, 53]). (Allison follows Curley on this [Spinoza, 71]) The implication of Curley’s account seems to be that “following” is the same as logical inference or entailment, with the added condition that inferences that would be valid in Spinoza’s system are those that have been constrained by what has been asserted by scientific laws and also by what is asserted by true statements of scientific fact. This seems to represent a version of Garrett's proposal that what Spinoza needs is a relevance logic, with Curley suggesting that the relevance conditions will be articulated by science.

40 (*) “Spinoza’s necessitarianism”, 194. 41 (*) For Della Rocca’s endorsement of Garrett's thesis, see note 34. For another

endorsement of Garrett’s thesis, cf. Griffin, “Necessitarianism in Leibniz and Spinoza” (91). Mason also mentions (albeit critically) Garrett’s proposal (The God of Spinoza: A Philosophical Study (hereafter, God of Spinoza), 59-60).

26

Garrett’s argument takes as its starting point the undeniable fact that, within

Spinoza’s metaphysical framework, strict implication is incapable of furnishing an adequate

model for understanding causal relations.42 (And we can add here that material implication

equally fails to do the job.) What disqualifies both of these models of implication are the

well-known paradoxes to which they give rise. For if we took the “following from” relations

linking causes and effects in Spinoza’s Nature to be relations of either material or strict

implication, we would be attributing to Spinoza causal views he clearly cannot hold, such as

the belief that God’s existence – a necessary truth – “follows from” the existence of any

thing,43 whereas it is of course a basic tenet of Spinoza’s metaphysics that the existence of

God follows necessarily from God’s essence alone. In other words, both strict and material

implication models fail to produce only those relations of “following” that would be valid in

Spinoza’s metaphysics. Garrett takes this failure to suggest that we should turn instead to a

relevance logic’s model of entailment, and specifically one whose relevance condition “is

satisfied only by priority in the causal order of nature”.44

Garrett outlines his proposal only in a few lines, en route to settling a different

interpretative issue, and offering it as a response to Bennett’s inconclusive deliberations

42 (*) “Spinoza’s necessitarianism”, 194. 43 This is because a true proposition (such as “God exists” would be for Spinoza) is

materially implied by any proposition, and a necessary proposition (as “God exists” would again be for Spinoza) is strictly implied by any proposition. This is my example, not Garrett’s. For his examples of unpalatable consequences of a strict-implication interpretation of “following”, focusing on infinite modes, see “Spinoza’s Necessitarianism”, 194.

44 “Spinoza’s Necessitarianism”, 194, orig. ital. Rather surprisingly, Garrett doesn’t mention the one claim by Spinoza that seems to support

his ‘relevance logic’ thesis most directly, the axiom that “Things that have nothing in common with one another [Quae nihil commune cum se invicem habent] also cannot be understood through one another…” (1ax5; II/46).

However, merely assuring that that the antecedent and consequent are relevant to each other in the sense of having some sort of common ‘content’, ‘connection of meanings’ or a ‘shared variable’ (as relevance conditions are often described) would of course clearly be insufficient, as this would once again allow the existence of God to “follow from” any number of trivial features of Natura Naturata.

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about the kind of entailment relations Spinoza would have accepted.45 Given these

conditions under which Garrett lays out his proposal, it is no wonder that he does not

develop it in greater detail. Someone who wished to undertake such a task could however

appeal to discussions of the relevance of antecedent to consequent,46 and of the paradoxes of

implication,47 present already in post-medieval logical treatises. Such a discussion could

endow Garrett’s basic thesis with a historical anchoring and perhaps more detail.

However, the brevity and ancillary nature of Garrett’s discussion understandably

leaves a number of purely conceptual matters quite vague. For instance, Garrett asserts, as

we have seen, that the relevance condition within Spinoza’s metaphysical relevance logic

would be satisfied “by priority in the causal order of nature”. The presumable intention

behind this stipulation is to block the possibility of any inferences in this logic that would

produce results differing from the actual metaphysical order that, according to Spinoza,

obtains in Nature (for example, any inferences according to which substance would be

entailed by a mode, or an infinite mode by a finite mode). This suggests that, were we to

begin elaborating Garrett’s proposal further, and at a more fine-grained level, what Garrett

calls “causal priority” would turn out to refer to, and rest on, at least the following two well-

known elements of Spinoza’s metaphysics. First, only those inferences would be legitimate

45 (*) Bennett in particular wonders whether we can attribute to Spinoza the theorem shared by “most systems of entailment logic… that a necessary proposition is entailed by every proposition” (Study, §27.5). Bennett in the end hesitates to see Spinoza as endorsing this strict implication model because the theorem in question “has not been well known throughout the history of logic, and I have no reason to think Spinoza was aware of it” (ibid).

46 (*) For example in the work of Regius, Javellus, Fonseca, John Major, and others; on this see E. J. Ashworth, Language and Logic in the Post-Medieval Period (hereafter, Language and Logic) 130, 135-6.

47 In fact, debate about these paradoxes began already in the 12th century; medieval thinkers like Abelard, Robert Kilwardby and Strode refused to accept the paradoxes of strict implication as formally valid, and attempted to articulate a second condition on valid deductions that would forestall them, whether by insisting that the consequent must be “understood” in the antecedent, or “contained” in it, or even “caused” by it (Ashworth, “Language and Logic,” 94; Language and Logic, 134).

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within Spinoza’s metaphysical logic that would accord with his founding definitions of

substance and mode (which establish substance as what is not conceptually or causally

dependent on anything else and mode as what is so dependent; this would ensure for

instance that substance not be inferred from anything but itself, and that every mode be

inferred from something else). Second, causal “priority” would also subsume Spinoza’s

restrictions on causal relations between infinite and finite things (1p21), which would ensure

that only infinite things follow from other infinite things.48

This is, presumably, how we could begin to explicate the specific content of the

“causal priority” relevance condition proposed by Garrett. Nevertheless, even once we

articulate this condition in this more fine-grained way, it is not obvious that causal “priority”

suffices as a condition on what inferences would be legitimate in Spinoza’s metaphysical

framework. To give just two examples, in Spinoza’s metaphysics certainly only those

inferences would be valid that would respect the inter-attribute barrier, such that no thing

under attribute P could (in a referentially transparent manner) entail a thing under attribute

Q. It’s not clear that this possibility is blocked by insistence solely on causal “priority”

condition. Similarly, it seems that in addition to any such requirement of “priority” any

metaphysical logic that would be legitimate in Spinoza’s framework would have to assume

also Spinoza’s version of the Principle of Sufficient Reason (PSR), according to which there

must be a cause-or-reason for every thing.49 For only respecting this requirement that every

existing entity and property, including substance itself, to be entailed by something, would, it

48 This means that no finite thing can be inferred from an infinite thing without another finite thing also following from it. However, the correct interpretation of 1p21 is a matter of some controversy. I return to this proposition in the last Chapter.

49 For Spinoza’s statement of the PSR see 1ax2; 1p11altd1. I return to this Principle in more detail in the last Chapter.

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seems, secure the correct (i.e. completely unlimited) scope for logical relations in Spinoza’s

metaphysics.

In short, many details remain to be filled in before we can say to have produced a

relevance logic capable of adequately mirroring Spinozistic causal relations. However, I do

not want to pursue this line of inquiry further here. For although Garrett’s thesis is

unquestionably an inspired step forward for the logicising tradition of Spinoza scholarship, I

do believe that nonetheless all such interpretations are going down the wrong path in

principle. To be sure, I wholeheartedly subscribe to the conviction implicitly shared by all

such readings that to understand Spinoza’s view of the nature of causal relations it is

necessary to grasp how he understands the nature of conceptual relations.50 But what stops me

from pursuing the path staked out by Garrett is doubt that it is to the realm of logic (whether

relevance logic or not) that we must look to first, in order to find the model of conceptual

relations capable of shedding light on Spinoza’s thinking about the nature of causation.

There are several reasons for this doubt. The first is arguably easy for proponents of

logicising readings to dismiss as a semantic quibble, but it must be mentioned if only as a

necessary terminological clarification. I am referring here to the fact that Spinoza has almost

nothing to say about “logic”, but what he does say strongly suggests that he did not belong

to that logical tradition for which logic is concerned with being qua known, in which case

one could indeed perhaps expect him to model fundamental metaphysical relations (such as

those of causality) on relations of logical inference.51 Instead, echoing Descartes, Spinoza

50 (*) Pace, e.g., Mason, God of Spinoza, 55ff. 51 In the Ethics Spinoza mentions “logic” only once, writing “we shall see how much more

the wise man can do than the ignorant. But it does not pertain to this investigation to show how the intellect [intellectus] must be perfected [perfici], or in what way [arte] the body must be cared for, so that it can perform its function properly [suo officio recte fungi]. The former is the concern of logic [logicam], and the latter of medicine.” (Pref5; II/277) In the CM, Spinoza remarks that “the common Logic

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treats as just an “art”, an art on par with “medicine”, showing us how to “perfect” the

intellect “so that it can perform its function properly” – a task that Spinoza explicitly places

outside the sphere of his own inquiries (5Pref; II/277).52 In short, Spinoza’s conception of

the nature of logic belongs to the 17th century normative and therapeutic tradition of logic:

“logic” is an “art”; it does not add to one’s stock of adequate ideas, but serves to train

memory and imagination, without engaging genuine understanding.53 And so contrary to

what is implied by the ‘logicising’ approach to Spinoza’s causal metaphysics, according to

Spinoza “logic”, far from reproducing objectively the formal structure of Nature,54 remains

in the realm of the first – lowest – kind of knowledge.

Of course it remains open to the proponents of this logicising approach to counter

that what they mean by “logic” is not the same as what Spinoza may have called “logic,” but

something closer to the orthodox Aristotelian ontological tradition of logic, and that Spinoza

would have endorsed the spirit of the ‘logicising’ interpretation on this understanding of the

idea of “logic”. Yet even if we can grant that this is perhaps merely a superficial matter of

and Philosophy serve only to train and strengthen the memory…but these disciplines do not serve to train the intellect.” (I/233/10-14). In the KV, Spinoza speaks dismissively about “logicians” in the context of their requirements on definition (I.7; I/46). In the TTP Spinoza consistently depicts questions of inference as a matter of principles available by “natural light” (cf. e.g. 7.70; III/112).

52 To use one commentator’s phrase, logic is for Spinoza a branch of “mental hygiene” (Mason, God of Spinoza, 57). This quasi-therapeutic “perfection of the intellect” at stake in logic is not even the same as the perfection of the intellect that the Ethics itself is after – that is, the acquisition of an ever greater number of adequate ideas. This is presumably why Spinoza explicitly distinguishes logic from “wisdom” (5Pref; II/277)

53 Arguably, even Spinoza’s Cartesian heritage also gives us little reason to expect that Spinoza would have had a logicising bent. Descartes is, as is well known, Spinoza’s greatest influence; it is equally well known however, that he holds formal logic in low esteem, in particular because he viewed them as incapable of augmenting our knowledge, given that the conclusions are implicit in the premises. Cf. e.g. Rule 10 (AT X 405-6); Discourse on Method, AT VI 17; also cf. PRL I.3 (34/52). Although Descartes uses terms like “deduction”, “inference”, “demonstration” and the like quite prolifically, it’s been argued persuasively that he doesn’t intend them in a strictly logical sense. Cf. e.g. Nadler, “Deduction, Confirmation and the Laws of Nature in Descartes’s Principia Philosophiae”, 375; Clarke, Descartes’s Philosophy of Science, 63-70, 98f.

54 (*) For this phrase, cf TdIE 91; II/34.

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semantics, and not a genuine difficulty for logicising readings, a second and to my mind

decisive obstacle for such readings stems from the fact that extant logicising interpretations

of Spinoza’s metaphysics fundamentally misconstrue the textual evidence they cite in support of

their case. For such readings are encouraged foremost by two of Spinoza’s more salient

textual and terminological habits: his tendency to appeal to geometrical analogies to illustrate

the nature of causal relations, and his recurring description of these relations as instances of

necessary “following”. Both of these textual elements have been interpreted – for example, by

Bennett, Curley and Garrett55 – as signaling that Spinoza identifies causal relations with

logical inference. As I shall show in detail in §4, however, in fact both of them clearly point

instead to Spinoza’s adoption of a formal-cause model of causation.56

The logicising reading of Spinoza’s metaphysics has not been, to be sure, universally

accepted by scholars.57 However, those who have rejected it have not, at least to my

55 (*) Cf. e.g. Curley: “There is perhaps no catchword of Spinozistic criticism more familiar than the contention that Spinoza assimilates the relation of causality to the relation of logical implication. And no doubt anything said so often must have some justification. In this case, the justification is twofold. First…when Spinoza wants to characterize the relation between substance and mode…he says…that they [modes] follow from him [God]. This last form of expression…is strongly suggestive of the relation of logical implication. Second, Spinoza often elaborates these statements by appealing to a geometrical analogy. …Spinoza seems to be saying, as clearly as we could possibly wish, that the causal relation between God and the things that are in him is not merely a necessary relation, but a relation whose necessity is logical” (SM, 45-6; orig. ital.).

For a logicising interpretation of “following”, cf. also e.g. Garrett’s “Spinoza’s Necessitarianism” (193-4), and of Spinoza’s geometrical analogies, cf. e.g. Bennett, Study, §8.3.

56 A logicising reading would have to explain Spinoza’s commitment to the intrinsic intelligibility of causal relations, i.e. to the idea that two wholly independent and heterogeneous series – the explanatory chain of “ideas” on the one hand, and the corresponding chain of “blind”, mechanistic causes on the other – will necessarily mirror one another. The explanation is found on the one hand in Spinoza’s parallelism and on the other in his commitment to the PSR, which would require causal relations to be inherently intelligible. I come back to Spinoza’s reasons for upholding the PSR in the last Chapter.

57 Cf. e.g. M. Wilson, “Spinoza’s causal axiom” (141); Carriero, “Spinoza’s views on necessity” (61ff); Mason, God of Spinoza, 55ff. Mason claims that there is simply no ontological room for logical rules in Spinoza’s system (ibid, 58), but I see no reason why an advocate of a ‘logicising’ reading could not retort that logical structure determines the connections between ideas, i.e. characterizes Nature under the attribute of thought. Mason also suggests that it’s not clear where God would “fit in” into such a logical picture (ibid, 58), but again the answer seems to be clearly that

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knowledge, offered many positive counterproposals of a better conceptual model capable of

describing the relations Spinoza envisages between causes and effects.58 And what I want to

show in this Chapter is that a formal-cause interpretation of Spinozistic causality offers

precisely such a better conceptual model of causal relations in Spinoza’s metaphysics: a

model supported by overwhelming textual evidence, and one that does not suffer from the

inexplicability and brute dogmatism of the connection Spinoza asserts between conceptual

and causal relations.

The entirety of §4 is dedicated to explicating the textual reasons for attributing to

Spinoza a formal-causal model of causality. But already even the brief characterization of

the nature of formal causes in the Introduction suffices to make this second point, namely to

display the advantages that a formal-cause model offers us in explaining why intelligibility

necessarily tracks causality in Spinoza’s framework, which logicising interpretations risk

leaving unexplained and unjustified. For formal causes offer us a model of causal relations

on which such relations are simultaneously truly causal (i.e., efficacious, productive of

properties) but also intrinsically intelligible: this is because formal-causal relations are a type of

inferential or entailment relations, but more specifically the type of inferential or entailment

logic would govern the relations between the ideas in the infinite intellect. To Mason’s argument that Spinoza did not indicate a desire to “ground logic in the workings of language or in the mental operations of human beings…even unconsciously” (ibid) a proponent of such readings could, it seems, respond that logic is grounded in the divine intellect.

Cf. also Della Rocca, Representation and the Mind-Body Problem, 4. Mason’s counterproposal is that the “central items in [Spinoza’s] system are things and the

central relationship is…‘causality’”, such that Spinoza’s claims are “framed entirely in terms of the existence of things, not the truth of propositions”; Spinoza’s belief that there must be a “reason” why every thing exists does not entail that there must be a “ground for every true proposition… The necessity resides entirely in the existence of a cause” (ibid, 61). This suggestion that for Spinoza matters of causation are entirely divorced from explanatory considerations seems to me to ignore the fundamental connection Spinoza establishes between causation and intelligibility in his metaphysics.

58 However Donagan, rightly recognizing that there is little evidence of Spinoza’s interest in logical questions, proposes (as Curley and Allison also do, albeit with ) that Spinoza’s notion of “necessarily following from” has to be understood as referring to the relations among propositions describing events within a framework of laws of nature (Spinoza, 74-5).

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relations that obtains between essences as stated by definitions and properties that follow

from such definitions. Adopting the formal-cause model means that in order to explain

Spinoza’s commitment to the intrinsic intelligibility of causal relations we no longer have to

grope for a way to ‘bridge’ two seemingly wholly independent and heterogeneous series – the

explanatory chain of “ideas” on the one hand, and the corresponding chain of “blind”,

mechanistic causes on the other.59 We also no longer have to view the intelligibility of

causality as a brute assertion, or a matter of an arbitrary fiat on Spinoza’s part, for when

Spinozistic “causality” is understood as formal causality, intelligibility can be viewed as an

intrinsic and necessary property of all causal relations qua causal relations. And this

internalized intelligibility of formal-cause relations is to my mind a highly compelling reason

to treat formal causation as a serious candidate for Spinoza’s principal causal model.60

To be clear, my rejection of the logicising approach to Spinoza’s metaphysics does

not stem from a conviction that all logical characterization of causal relations in terms of

inference or entailment in Spinoza’s metaphysics is in principle out of place; here I differ

from some of the other critics of this approach.61 Rather, my claim is that once we

recognize that Spinoza’s basic causal model is one of formal causation, this fundamentally

constrains, indeed, determines, the kinds of logical descriptions we are entitled to give of

Spinozistic causal relations. For it becomes clear that the logical characterization of the

59 Della Rocca's reduction of causality to conceptuality is another way of having fundamentally only one causal chain.

60 My reading here is also implicitly in disagreement with Curley’s interpretation of the substance-mode relationship in his influential Spinoza’s Metaphysics. In that work Curley famously claims that Spinoza characterizes the relation between modes and substance primarily in terms of “causation”, “production”, “determination” and “following”, which, in Curley’s view, “not in the least suggest inherence in a subject. What it does suggest is merely some kind of causal dependence.” (SM, 19). However, once we recognize that we are dealing with a formal cause, it is no longer an argument against viewing modes as properties to say that Spinoza describes God as causing modes: in the case of a formal cause, a property is precisely what is caused by (is produced by, follows from) the essence of a thing.

61 (*) See e.g. Mason, note 57.

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relations between causes and effects in Spinoza’s metaphysics will consist in a statement of

the kind of entailment that holds between the essence of a thing, as stated in its definition,

and a property inferable from that definition. I leave the task of filling out the details of this

new logical picture of Spinoza’s metaphysics for another time; the main point I want to

make here is that formal-causal relations provide a fertile starting point for an investigation

into any potential logical characterization of metaphysical relations in Spinoza’s

philosophical system. Formal causes in short give us a new entry-point into this kind of

investigation, by allowing us to formulate and pose the following question: what logical

relations characterize formal-cause relations, as Spinoza, Descartes, Arnauld et al understand

the latter?

In the remainder of this Chapter I want to flesh out how Spinoza conceives of

formal causal relations; what textual reasons there are for attributing this position to him;

and how on this basis we must conceive of “efficient causes” if we are no longer to view

them as participants in a blindly mechanistic universe. First of all, to prepare the ground for

an analysis of Spinoza’s conception of the nature of formal causes, I want to throw some

more light on how precisely formal causation was understood in Spinoza’s time. I will do

that by examining, in the next section, how such causes were interpreted by Spinoza’s chief

philosophical influence, Descartes.

§3. Descartes’s formal cause

It is worth acknowledging that, even though, as noted earlier, I am not burdening

Spinoza with an endorsement of Aristotelian “substantial forms”, my reading of him as a

thinker who privileges formal causes above all other causes certainly depicts him as bucking

a powerful historical trend, present not just in Early Modern thought, but already in later

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medieval philosophy. I have in mind the trend of granting increasing priority in

philosophical accounts to efficient causes. Suárez,62 Descartes,63 Hobbes,64 to name just a few

thinkers, all treated efficient cause as the paradigmatic cause. As Suárez puts it, “the whole

definition of the cause is most properly suited to efficient [causes]”.65 It is this growing

sympathy toward efficient causality among late medieval and Early Modern thinkers that

feeds the standard ‘mechanistic’ story of the Early Modern period,66 and leads us to expect

that for Spinoza too, formal causality would be just “part of the empty verbiage of the

schools”.67

However, what I want to suggest here is that there is an equally valid sense in which,

by advocating a formal-cause model of causal relations, Spinoza is in fact continuing down a

path paved by Descartes. In have in mind an aspect of Descartes’s causal views that typically

does not get the spotlight,68 namely Descartes ’s explicit portrayal of God as a formal cause

in the Fourth Replies.69 I will not engage here in a discussion about how these remarks fit with

62 (*) Suárez claims e.g. that formal causes are causes only by analogy to efficient causes (MD 15.6, 7 and 27.1 10).

63 (*) Cf. e.g. Pr I 28. 64 Cf. e.g. Hobbes’s declaration that “Nature does all things by the conflict of bodies

pressing each other mutually with their motions” (Dialogus Physicus, Ep. Ded). However, note that Hobbes also retains the notion of a “material cause”.

65 (*) MD 12.3, 3, 1:389 66 (*) Cf. Schmaltz’s conclusion that Suárez’s focus on efficient causes “provides a bridge

from a traditional Aristotelian account of the four causes to Descartes’s restriction of explanations in natural philosophy to efficient causes” (Descartes on Causation, 24).

67 (*) This is how Jesseph describes Hobbes’s verdict on formal causes (Squaring the Circle, 204).

68 This approach to Descartes dominates even accounts focused on Descartes’s conception of God in the Meditations (cf. e.g. Lee, “The Scholastic Resources for Descartes’s Concept of God as Causa Sui”). A notable exception is Schmaltz’s Descartes on Causation, which very precisely teases out the details of Descartes’s account of formal cause in the Replies.

69 This seems to make Spinoza unique among post-Cartesians. For neither Malebranche, nor La Forge or Desgabets follow Descartes in calling God a formal cause, although they all define him in causal terms. (See Marion, “The Idea of God”, passim.)

Leibniz, like Descartes, describes God as causa sive ratio (“a necessary Being, bearing the reason for its existence within itself” [Principles of Nature and Grace, 7]; cf. Monadology 38-40, and

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the rest of Descartes’s own views. What interests me is solely their potential impact on

Spinoza, the fact that Spinoza’s greatest intellectual influence formulated a post-Aristotelian

conception of formal cause in a piece of text that was unquestionably familiar to Spinoza.

As I briefly noted earlier, I believe that Descartes’s reconception of formal cause, as outlined

in the Replies, is very plausibly the proximate source on which Spinoza drew in elaborating

his own notion of a formal cause. At the very least, we must take Descartes’s conception of

formal cause into account if we want to make a well-informed judgment – that is, a

judgment made in view of all the conceptions of cause that Spinoza would have had

available to him – about Spinoza’s understanding of the nature of causality. In this section

then, I will briefly examine what Descartes has to say on the subject of formal cause.

Descartes’s thesis that God must be regarded as a formal cause emerges only

gradually in the Replies, and as a consequence of Descartes’s endeavor to clarify and justify,

under the pressure of questioning from Arnauld, his controversial comment in the First

Replies that God “in a sense stands in the same relation to himself as an efficient cause does

to its effect” (AT VII 111).70 The idea that God’s essence, unlike creaturely essence, is

indistinguishable from God’s existence was, to be sure, well established by Descartes’s

time.71 But Descartes breaks with the dominant theological and philosophical tradition of

his time72 by proposing that we can regard God as a cause of himself in a positive sense. And,

in his judgment, only the notion of a formal cause would be capable of explaining anything

like self-causation. That is, for Descartes it is only if, alongside efficient causes, we also

recognize the existence of formal causes will we be able to respond to what Descartes thinks

DM 16). 70 (*) Cf. Fourth Obj.; AT VII 208. 71 (*) Cf. e.g. Aquinas, ST, I q12 a2 c. 72 For this route cf. e.g. Arnauld, Fourth Obj. (AT VII. 210), and Aquinas (ST, Ia q.2, art. 3).

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is an innate demand of reason: to know, for any thing we consider, the cause of its existence.

Descartes writes, “the light of nature does establish that if anything exists we may always ask

why it exists…we may inquire into its efficient cause, or, if it does not have one, we may

demand why it does not need one” (First Rep.; AT VII 108).73 The second part of this innate

rational principle concerns God. God, according to Descartes, does not need any “efficient

cause” to exist, since he simply eternally preserves himself by his “great and inexhaustible

power [potentia]” (ibid). By this self-preservation and “power” Descartes means that “the

essence of God is such that he must always exist”.74 But “what derives its existence ‘from

itself’” in this manner, he notes, “will be taken to derive its existence from itself as a formal

cause – that is, because it has the kind of essence which entails that it does not require an

efficient cause [est a se, sit tanquam a causa formali, hoc est, quia talem habet essentiam, ut causa

efficiente non egeat]” (Fourth Rep.; AT VII 238).75

In short, when in the Replies Descartes describes God as a “formal cause”, he is

referring now only to the way in which the essence of a thing is the cause of the thing having

a property like “existence”. In the Replies Descartes is explicit that the sorts of inferences

from the essence of a thing that he is describing are instances of “formal” causation.76 He

73 In Suárezian spirit, Descartes continues to emphasize that even when describing God as a formal cause we remain in the realm of causation “analogous” to efficient causation Cf. e.g. First Rep. (AT VII 109); Fourth Rep. (AT VII 239-42). Cf. Suárez MD 15.6, 27.1 10. The idea of the “analogous” nature of the formal cause deserves more detailed systematic exploration than I can give it here.

74 (*) Descartes writes, “although God has always existed, since it is he who in fact preserves himself, it seems not too inappropriate to call him 'the cause of himself'. …'preservation' here must not be understood to be the kind of preservation that comes about by the positive influence of an efficient cause; all that is implied is that the essence of God is such that he must always exist [non intelligi conservationem quae fiat per positivum ullum causae efficientis influxum, sed tantum quod Dei essentia fit talis, ut non possit non semper existere]” (First Rep.; AT VII 109).

75 (*) Cf. also “when we ask whether something can give itself existence, this must be taken to be the same as asking whether the nature or essence of something is such that it does not need an efficient cause in order to exist” (Fourth Rep.; AT VII 240).

76 (*) Descartes mentions “formal cause” in Fourth Rep. several times (AT VII 236, 238, 241-

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thus clearly severs this notion from any “occult” ontological scaffolding of “substantial

forms” with their prime matter counterparts, and the associated ontology of actuality and

potentiality, all of which, in the eyes of an orthodox Aristotelian, would have underpinned

the existence of formal causes and made their operation possible.77 Instead Descartes insists

that “[i]n taking the whole essence of a thing [integram rei essentiam] to be its formal cause

[causa formali]” he is “simply following the footsteps of Aristotle” when in the Posterior

Analytics the latter describes such causes in a geometrical context of inferring properties from

the definition of a figure.78

Descartes is led to posit the existence of formal causes in response to Arnauld’s

protestations. The latter had given voice in his Objection to the deeply entrenched theological

and philosophical conviction79 that it is impossible for something be an efficient cause of

itself (Fourth Obj.; AT VII 208-10, 213). And Descartes concedes this point. Indeed, he

professes to know by “natural light” that a true efficient cause, an efficient cause strictly

taken, cannot be identical with its effect. For this would violate a basic principle of all

reasoning, the Principle of Identity, since it would require a thing to both be and not be

3). Cf. also this 1642 letter to Mesland(?): “where you say ‘God is the cause of himself’. Several people have in the past misinterpreted this phrase, and hence it would appear to require some such explanation: ‘For something to be the cause of himself is for it to exist through itself, and to have no other cause than his own essence, which may be called a formal cause’ ” (AT V 546).

77 Indeed, it would be understandable if Descartes had preferred to steer clear altogether (as Spinoza had done for the most part) of the terminology of “formal causes”, with its inevitable association with “substantial forms” – some careless reader could, after all, mistake Descartes’s use of the term for an endorsement of such an infamously “occult” metaphysical entity. Cf. Flage and Bonnen, Descartes and Method, 84.

But see Schmaltz, Descartes on Causation, 61 for the suggestion that we can see Descartes ’s formal cause as a continuation of Suárez’s “metaphysical form”, which Suárez identified with the “whole essence” of a thing. (See MD 15.11.3)

78 The passage Descartes invokes from the Posterior Analytics (hereafter, PA) is at 2.11 94a25-35.

I shall return to question of the relation between geometry and formal causation in more detail in the next section.

79 (*) Cf. e.g. Aquinas: “nor is it possible that something be an efficient cause of itself, because it would thus be prior to itself, which is impossible” (ST, Ia q.2, art. 3).

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identical with itself (Fourth Rep.; AT VII 239-241). Here Descartes of course had the option

of conceding to Arnauld that, as a consequence of this self-evident principle, God cannot be

understood to be a causa sui in any positive sense, and that instead such a label must be

understood to mean simply being uncaused. Instead, Descartes insists that the existence of a

causa sui in a positive sense is also a truth revealed by the natural light, just as the Principle of

Identity itself is. For, according to Descartes, reflection on divine nature clearly shows that

there does exist a thing that is a cause not distinct from its own effect: God's own essence is

the causal “source” of God's existence and all his perfections.80 And so the universally

acknowledged conceptual constraint imposed by the Principle of Identity must be reconciled

with this equally self-evident truth of divine self-causation. Descartes thus concludes that on

this one point the nature of a formal cause must diverge from that of an efficient cause.81

“Efficient causes” thus prove to be, in Descartes’s eyes, a category of causes that remains

subject to restrictions which do not apply to all causes. In line with Descartes’s general

tendency to elevate God beyond constraints governing human rationality, divine formal self-

causation proves to beyond the limitations even of a principle as basic to our thinking as the

Principle of Identity.

80 (*) Descartes writes, “we perceive by the natural light that a being whose essence is so immense that he does not need an efficient cause in order to exist, equally [this being] does not need an efficient cause in order to possess all the perfections…: his own essence is the eminent source which bestows on [dare…eminenter] him whatever we can think of as being capable of being bestowed on anything by an efficient cause.” (Fourth Rep.; AT VII 240-1).

81 (*) Descartes writes, “[A] cause which is not distinct from its effects is not an efficient cause in the strict sense. … [N]atural light…enables me to perceive that nothing can give itself existence in the restricted sense usually implied by the proper meaning of the term 'efficient cause'. For in this sense, what gives itself existence would have to be different from itself in so far as it receives existence; yet to be both the same thing and not the same thing…is a contradiction… [T]he one feature peculiar to an efficient cause, and not transferable to a formal cause, involves an evident contradiction which could not be accepted by anyone, namely that something could be different from itself…” (Fourth Rep.; AT VII 239-241).

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In this manner, consideration of the nature of divine causality requires us, in

Descartes’s view, to recognize the insufficiency of an ontology of efficient (and final) causes

alone. As Descartes insists, “in between ‘efficient cause’ in the strict sense and ‘no cause at

all’, there is…‘the positive essence of a thing” (Fourth Rep., AT VII 239). We can indeed ask

about the “efficient cause” of the existence of “every existing thing”, but this is only a

heuristic technique which enables us to arrive at the realization that God does not need a

cause in the sense of an “efficient cause”.82 In these passages in the Replies Descartes is thus

trying to put in order our causal ontology: as Schmaltz puts it, Descartes is insisting that

“there must be some room” in our ontology also for a formal cause,83 for a “cause or reason

[causa sive ratio]” contained in the “essence” of a thing,84 and distinguished from “efficient

cause” which is now understood as an external cause, an entity distinct from the effect.85

For his part in the explicitly theological context of his exchange with Descartes

Arnauld refrains from using the terminology of “formal cause”. Nonetheless, the way in

which he stakes out his position seems effectively to commit him too to a conception of

82 (*) Cf. “consideration of efficient causes is the primary and principal way…that we have of proving the existence of God. We cannot develop this proof with precision unless we grant our minds the freedom to inquire into the efficient causes of all things, even God…” (Fourth Rep.; AT VII 237).

83 Descartes on causation, 60. (As Schmaltz also rightly notes [ibid], Descartes’s formal-cause account of God is a good reason to reject Carraud's verdict that for Descartes the expression “efficient cause” is “redundant” [CSR, 179]).

84 (*) Cf. “formal cause, or the reason draw from God's essence [causam formalem, sive rationem ab essentia Dei petitam]”; “the phrase ‘his own cause’ cannot possibly be taken to mean an efficient cause [sui causa nullo modo de efficiente potest intelligi]; it simply means that the inexhaustible power of God is the cause or reason for his not needing a cause [Dei potentia sit causa sive ratio propter quam causa non indiget]” (Fourth Rep.; AT VII 236); “what derives its existence ‘from itself’ will be taken to derive its existence from itself as a formal cause – that is, because it has the kind of essence which entails that it does not require an efficient cause [quod…est a se, sit tanquam a causa formali, hoc est, quia talem habet essentiam, ut causa efficiente non egeat]” (Fourth Rep.; AT VII 238).

85 And so Descartes describes God as an efficient cause in relation to his creations: cf. e.g. “I should have no hesitation in calling the cause which preserves me an ‘efficient’ [efficientem] cause” (First Rep.; AT VII 109); “You ask me ‘by what kind of causality God established the eternal truths’. I reply: ‘by the same kind of causality’ as he created all things, the is to say, as their ‘efficient and total cause’.” (Letter to Mersenne, 27 May 1630; AT I 152).

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God as a formal cause. For, like Descartes, Arnauld insists that God’s existence follows

from his nature.86 To follow from the essence of something is simply to be formally caused.

Indeed, already Descartes himself interprets Arnauld’s remarks as an implicit endorsement of

his own formal-cause account of God’s nature. For he concludes his Reply by suggesting,

hopefully, that his own position is “reconcilable” with Arnauld’s precisely insofar as they

both agree that the divine causa sui is best characterized as a “formal cause” (Fourth Obj.; AT

VII 243).

In the passages under discussion Descartes has been preoccupied first and foremost

with the formal cause of divine existence and perfections. However, he also emphasizes that

the notion of formal cause in Posterior Analytics on which he draws was intended by Aristotle

to be applicable to “all the essences of all things” (Fourth Rep.; AT VII 242).87 Presumably

Descartes’s immediate motivation for underscoring this aspect of the Aristotelian picture

was to assure the legitimacy of applying Aristotle’s geometrical notion of formal cause to the

divine case that interests Descartes. However, through Descartes’s emphasis on this

generality of Aristotle’s interpretation of formal causation, the implicit lesson of the Replies is

that in principle the essence of any thing can be considered to be a formal cause of properties

derived from this essence.88 Of course, only in God's case the essence will the cause of the

thing’s own existence. Also only in God's case will the formal cause suffice as an explanation

of all the properties of the thing endowed with that essence. (Thus for example, in the case

of any extended substance, although extension – the essential nature of this substance –

would count as the formal cause of its modes qua extended, appealing to this formal cause

86 (*) Arnauld writes, “the reason [for God's existence] lies in the nature of a supremely perfect being” (Fourth Obj.; AT VII 211-3)

87 Cf. also Descartes’s perfectly general formulation in his 1642 letter to Mesland(?). However, in that letter it is again God’s self-causation that is under discussion.

88 (*) Cf. Schmaltz, Descartes on Causation, 60.

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would not furnish us with an explanation of any other features of these modes: for that we

would need to invoke causes external to and distinct from this substance, the “efficient”

causes that determine what kind of modes this substance comes to have.89)

As we shall now see, it is precisely this universally applicable concept of formal cause

that Spinoza incorporates into his own system. And, as we shall also see, like Descartes,

Spinoza too relies on a conception of “essence” that is a “power” identical to a formal cause.

At this point then I turn finally to Spinoza’s own views. As I will demonstrate in the next

section, he accepts something very close to the picture of formal causation we find in

Descartes’s Replies, but in a much more unrestricted form.

§4. Spinoza’s formal causes

“[W]ith the changing picture of the universe brought about by Cartesian science and metaphysics… forms or essences no longer have a fundamental standing”

– Carriero, “On the Relationship between Mode and Substance in Spinoza’s Metaphysics”, 272

(a) Causa sui.90

Some readers of Spinoza have argued that Spinoza had intended his concept of causa

sui to have a purely negative or deflationary sense, whether because in their view Spinoza

had wished to reinstate the traditional interpretation of the term rejected by Descartes (so

Wolfson),91 or because, under the sway of a “mechanical conception of nature”, Spinoza

took it to be “a law of nature that what is ultimate neither came into being nor will cease to

89 (*) Cf. Schmaltz, Descartes on Causation, 60. 90 Regrettably, the self-causation of substance is a key feature of Spinoza’s causal picture that

I do not have the space to investigate beyond the way it bears on the issue of formal causation in particular.

91 (*) See PS, 325. Cf. Mason, God of Spinoza, 110.

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be”, and that this is the only sense in which there can be self-causation (so Donagan).92

However, I think that such negative and deflationary readings of the Spinozistic causa sui are

off the mark. For textual evidence overwhelmingly points to the conclusion that, on the

contrary, Spinoza took Descartes’s break with philosophical tradition a sizable step further,

and that his notion of causa sui is a positive notion of a formal cause, just as Descartes’s

notion was. Indeed, to anyone who had just perused Descartes’s Replies, the fact that

Spinoza regards God as a formal cause of his own existence, just as Descartes does, should be

quite evident. For the manner in which Spinoza describes divine nature and self-causation

clearly echoes Descartes’s statements. So, for instance, already in the early TdIE Spinoza

declares that the definition of God “should exclude every cause, i.e., …the object should

require nothing else except its own being [esse] for its explanation [explicationem]” (97; II/35).

Similarly, in the Ethics he remarks that the existence of an entity such as God93 is necessary

“by reason of its essence [ratione suae essentiae]”, for it “follows necessarily [necessario sequitur]”

from its “essence and definition [essentia et definitione]” (1p33s1; II/74). Indeed, the very first

definition of the Ethics – and its very first line – is as follows: “By cause of itself I understand

that whose essence involves [involvit] existence, or that whose nature cannot be conceived

except as existing” (1def1). That is, Spinoza’s definition refers us to a fundamental conceptual

feature of the cause in question: to be a “cause of oneself” means that one’s existence is

necessarily inferable from one’s essence. In this Spinoza’s definition (although to be clear, at

this point in Spinoza’s deduction, it is not yet explicitly applied to God) echoes Descartes’s

own depiction of God as a formal causa sui. For, as we saw in §3, according to Descartes the

“formal cause” of God’s existence is the “reason derived from God's essence”; and “what

92 (*) Spinoza, 62-3. 93 To be clear, in this passage Spinoza does not explicitly mention God as the entity being

described. I will return later to this proposition.

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derives its existence ‘from itself’ will be taken to derive its existence from itself as a formal

cause”, and “cannot possibly be taken to mean an efficient cause” (Fourth Rep.; AT VII 236-

42). The relevance of the Cartesian background to Spinoza’s own philosophy will be denied

by no scholar; but it is precisely such statements by Descartes, and this conception of causa

sui and of what it means to derive existence from the essence of a thing, that are the most

relevant Cartesian background against which Spinoza declares in the Ethics that by causa sui

he understands “that whose nature cannot be conceived except as existing”. To my mind,

passages like this thus quite unequivocally indicate that Spinoza follows Descartes in

conceiving of God as a formal cause of his existence.

This is not to deny, of course, that Spinoza’s strategy in introducing the notion of

self-causation into his metaphysics is quite different from Descartes’s:94 Descartes comes to

the notion only by reflecting, under pressure from Arnauld, on the limitations to which

efficient causes are subject. In contrast, Spinoza’s definition of causa sui is, as already noted,

the opening salvo of the Ethics and, as such, among the building blocks of the deductively-

organized system that follows. Formal causality, in other words, is the very first kind of

causality that Spinoza introduces in the mature statement of his metaphysics.95

One could, however, object to my proposal that already the very first depiction of

causal power in the Ethics endorses the Cartesian conception of a formal cause by pointing

out that 1def1 is only a very early definition, one in which causa sui is not even yet identified

with “substance”, not to mention the “absolutely infinite” substance that is God. Perhaps

(goes this objection) Spinoza indeed initially depicts divine self-causation as formal causation

94 As Carraud writes, Descartes is led to contemplate the idea of a causa sui only as a ‘limit case’ of causation (CSR, 313). In general, I’m very much in agreement with Carraud’s reading of Spinoza’s views on about formal causality.

95 (*) Cf. Carraud, CSR, 311, 313.

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in the Cartesian vein in the Ethics. But we have no grounds for thinking that this initial

picture was not supplanted by later definitions and propositions, pushing Spinozistic causes

away from any Cartesian formal cause, and in the direction of ‘mechanistic’ efficient causes.

(After all, early on in the Ethics Spinoza also discusses multiple substances (1p2), but this

certainly does not mean that he endorses the existence – or even the possibility – of any

substance besides God.)

Moreover, I had announced earlier that in this Chapter I want to establish a stronger

thesis than just that Spinoza follows Descartes in conceiving of God as a formal cause of his

existence. For I have said that I want to demonstrate that formal causation, understood

along the lines of Descartes’s Fourth Replies, furnishes Spinoza’s fundamental causal model, and

so describes better than any other causal model not only God’s causation of his own

existence, but also his causation of all his propria (including the modes’ causation of all their

own propria and their co-causation of all their other affections). And perhaps some

proponents of a mechanistic reading of Spinoza would be even willing to grant that Spinoza,

like Descartes, conceives of God's relation to himself in terms of formal causality. For they

might be more interested in the nature of causality that governs the realm of modes, and

thus in halting the spread of formal causality at the modes’ door. But they would object that

thus far I have done nothing to show that the actions and passions of the modes are also

describable most properly in terms of formal causes. Indeed, if I’m right about Descartes’s

influence on Spinoza’s thinking about causality, then Spinoza would preserve formal

causality for the divine case alone.

This series of potential objections is very useful in highlighting the tasks that remain.

For indeed I have not yet demonstrated that Spinoza maintains his Cartesian, formal

conception of divine causation throughout the Ethics. Nor have I even attempted to show

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that this initial portrayal of causality is generalized by Spinoza to all other instances of

causation in his metaphysics, which, as noted earlier, is a claim I want to make.

In order to meet this twofold objection, in the remainder of this section I will thus

attend to four more general features of Spinoza’s account of causation, in evidence

throughout the Ethics: Spinoza’s use of geometrical and definitional models to describe causal

relations; his reliance in such descriptions on the terminology of “following” (as noted earlier,

some of these aspects of Spinoza’s picture of causation have been justly foregrounded but,

in my view, fundamentally misconstrued by the dominant logicising interpretations); and his

assertion of the equivalence of the notions of causa and ratio.96 As we shall see, consideration of

each of these three elements will show that Spinoza maintains throughout the Ethics the

formal conception of causation that he adumbrates in the very first line of that treatise, and

moreover that he extends it to cover all cases of causation, beyond just God's causation of

his own existence. By systematically laying out these various types of supporting textual

evidence for my stronger thesis of Spinoza’s perfectly general adoption of a formal cause

model of causation, I will also be fleshing out what I take to be the primary meaning of the

notion of “cause” in general in Spinoza’s metaphysics.

But even before we look for a proof of the stronger version of my thesis in this more

systematic examination of Spinoza’s causal picture, as a sign of things to come it is worth

considering a relatively late passage from Part I such as 1p33s1, in which Spinoza explicitly

distinguishes – just as Descartes did – “efficient causality” from God’s causal relation to his

own existence. Spinoza writes,

96 Another way to answer the objector would be to show that for Spinoza all definitions are “real” and not merely “nominal”; but such a discussion would take us too far afield from present topic. However I return to the difficult question of the status of Spinoza’s definitions in the last Chapter.

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A thing is called necessary either by reason of its essence or by reason of its cause [vel ratione suae essentiae vel ratione causae]. For a thing's existence follows necessarily either from its essence and definition or from a given efficient cause [vel ex ipsius essentia et definitione, vel ex data causa efficiente]. (1p33s1; II/74)

As we know from 1def1, existence follows from the essence of a thing in the case of a

particular kind of cause, a causa sui. This scholium, which comes late in Spinoza’s exposition

of his metaphysical principles, confirms the conclusions drawn above from that first

definition: the scholium implicitly bars us from treating God as an “efficient cause” of his

own existence, and describes the alternative to such “efficient” causation, the alternative

applicable to God qua causa sui, as causation by reason of essence – which is precisely how

Descartes defined the nature of formal causation.97

(b) The Uses of Geometry.

It is a notorious fact about Spinoza’s philosophy that in order to illustrate the nature

of causation Spinoza frequently appeals to analogies with geometrical figures.98 One of the

most famous such analogies is the following description of causal relations holding between

God’s essence and his propria:

from God's supreme power, or infinite nature…all things, have necessarily flowed [effluxisse], or always follow [sequi], by the same necessity [eadem necessitate] and in the same way [eodem modo] as from the nature of a triangle it follows, from eternity and to eternity, that its three angles are equal to two right angles… (1p17s; II/62)

97 The passage also reiterates Descartes identification of “efficient cause” with external causes; I will return to this later in the Chapter.

98 Cf. e.g. 1p17s1 (II/61, 62); 1p17s1 (II/62); 1p17c2s (II/61); 2p8s (II/91); 1App (II/79); 1p11altd[1] (II/52-3); 2p7s (II/90); 2p49[IVB] (II/136); 2p49s (II/136); 3Pref (II/138); 4p57s (II/252); CM 2.9; Ep. 21 (IV/127 and 130).

In this metaphysical and causal use of geometrical analogies Spinoza is perhaps closest to Leibniz. For Leibniz geometrical figure also serve to model causal events (cf. e.g. “everything that must happen to a person is already contained virtually in his nature or notion, just as the properties of a circle are contained in its definition” [DM, 13]).

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But while Spinoza’s use of such analogies is noted by virtually all his commentators, as I

noted above, typically these analogies are viewed as an indication that for Spinoza causal

relations are in some sense identical to logical relations of entailment.99 As I have said, I think

that this interpretation of the significance of such analogies is mistaken. For rather than

being a signal of some sort of ill-defined logical picture of causation, when properly

understood these analogies reveal that Spinoza takes causal relations to be fundamentally

formal-causal relations. As such, these analogies confirm Spinoza’s commitment to a formal-

cause model implied at the outset of his treatise by his definition of causa sui.

Why should we think that Spinoza’s systematic and explicit use of mathematical

analogies to illustrate the nature of causality – both in the context of God's production of

things and in the context of the causation of affects among modes – is one of the ways in

which his adoption of the formal-cause model of causation reveals itself? It is because

according to the Aristotelian mathematical tradition, which furnished the dominant

categories for the analysis of mathematical discourse into the 17th century,100 mathematical

demonstrations were causal in nature, and, more precisely, a matter of formal causality.101 (So,

99 (*) Cf. e.g. Curley, SM, 45-6. 100 For this view of the nature of mathematical discourse in the 17th century, see e.g.

Mancosu, Philosophy of Mathematics and Mathematical Practice in the Seventeenth Century (hereafter, PM), 10-11; Jesseph, Squaring the Circle, 204; Flage and Bonnen, Descartes and Method, 83; Carriero, “Spinoza’s views on necessity”, 63-4.

There were of course exceptions to this consensus, notably Hobbes: although Hobbes defends the view that mathematical proofs are causal, he believes that they are a matter of efficient, not formal, causes (cf. e.g. De Principiis et Ratiocinatione Geometrarum, 12). But Hobbes is a rather radical exception within the 17th century mathematical tradition, insofar as he also thinks that traditional Euclidean geometry as a whole is flawed. His view of geometry and definition is not something I can adequately explore in the limited space of this Chapter. However, a fuller account of Spinoza’s view of mathematics would need to defend in more detail why Spinoza’s position on mathematics and definition differs fundamentally from Hobbes’s position. However to my knowledge there is only piece of text – a letter – in which Spinoza appears to echo Hobbes’s constructivist approach to mathematics (Ep. 60).

101 (*) Cf. e.g. Aristotle, PA I.13 79a 5-10; Aquinas, XI Metaph., lect. 1, n. 2156. For this depiction of the Aristotelian mathematical tradition, as one oriented toward formal causes, cf. also

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for example, according to this tradition, the proof of the famous Euclidean proposition I.32

– which states that the sum of the internal angles of a triangle equals two right angles, and

which is invoked inter alia by Descartes, Arnauld, Locke and Spinoza102 – will involve formal

causes in the sense that the triangle’s essence, as given by its definition, determines qua

formal cause the triangle’s properties, including the fact that the sum of the internal angles is

equal to two right angles.103) Indeed, we can recall here from §3 that this is a point Descartes

himself explicitly makes in the Fourth Replies: it is exactly to this Aristotelian mathematical

tradition, which concerns itself with formal causes, that he appeals to in order to illustrate his

conception of the nature of divine self-causation.104 But Descartes is far from alone on this

point: a plethora of mathematical and philosophical texts from the 17th century show that

mathematics continued to be thought of as a discipline that deals with formal causes in the

Aristotelian vein.105

e.g. Des Chene, Physiologia (228); Longeway, “Medieval Theories of Demonstration”; Carriero, “Spinoza’s views on necessity” (63).

Cf. also e.g. Locke’s comparison of his knowledge that “bare nothing” cannot “produce any real being”, and so that “from eternity there has been something”, to his knowledge of the properties of a triangle (Essay IV.X)

102 In the medieval period this proposition was considered to be a paradigmatic example of a proposition that can be known immediately, or per se (as opposed to being known only inferentially through a demonstration) (Longeway, “Medieval Theories of Demonstration”).

I.32 appears for example in the writings of Aristotle (e.g. PA I.1.1 71a20, I.1.4 73b 30-31); Locke, Essay, IV.X; Arnauld, Fourth Obj. (AT VII 212), PRL I.6.59 (39/52); and Descartes, First Rep. (AT VII, 117), Fifth Replies (AT VII 383), letter to Mersenne, 16 June 1641 (AT III 383).

103 (*) Cf. Mancosu, PM, 14. 104 Even Arnauld implies in his Objections that he too considers mathematics to be a realm of

formal-causal explanations – that is, of explanations that appeal to the essence of a thing to demonstrate the necessity of a particular property. Indeed, for him this is a point of similarity between mathematical figures and divine nature: “mathematicians…never give demonstrations involving efficient or final causes. …[I]f anyone asks why a triangle has its three angles equal to two right angles, we …should simply say that this is the eternal and immutable nature of a triangle. And similarly, if anyone asks why God exists…we should not try to find either in God or outside him any efficient cause…the reason lies in the nature of a supremely perfect being.” (Fourth Obj.; AT VII 212). An alternative reading of this passage would be read Arnauld as claiming that the triangle’s properties are not caused at all – that mathematics is not a causal discipline.

105 For example, the 17th century mathematician Isaac Barrow writes, “Such in truth…is the causality and mutual dependence of the terms of a mathematical demonstration. That is, a most

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In short, in Spinoza’s immediate intellectual environment mathematical entities and

geometrical figures specifically were nearly universally regarded as governed by formal

causes. And Spinoza, who, as already noted, frequently calls upon geometrical analogies, and

whose letters show at least some familiarity with the views of contemporary

mathematicians,106 could not have been either oblivious or indifferent to this fact.107 And

indeed, in the Ethics Spinoza explicitly describes mathematics as the kind of knowledge that

is concerned “only with the essences and properties of figures [figurarum essentias et

close and intimate connection of them with one another, which can always be called formal causality, in that from one property first assumed, other attributes result as from a form. Nor do I think that there is any other causality in the nature of things, in which a necessary consequence may be founded” (Lectiones Mathematicae, 1685, 6).

Cf. also Biancani’s De Mathematicarum Natura [hereafter DMN] (1615), an influential work cited by many other 17th century mathematicians and philosophers, such as Barrow, Mersenne, and Bayle (Mancosu, PM, 19). According to Biancani, causes studied by mathematics were formal because the middle of the demonstration is the definition of the subject or of the property (ibid, 17). In contrast, efficient causes insisted Biancani were not relevant to mathematics because “the constructions of lines or divisions of figures…are only employed as the middle of discovery “inventionem” (DMN, cited in Mancosu, PM, 17). (Biancani’s overall view however is idiosyncratic to the extent that he thought mathematical demonstrations proceed from both kinds of intrinsic Aristotelian causes, that is also from material causes; the cause is material when something is defined in terms of its parts [ibid, 17].)

Even those thinkers who, like Pereyra (to whose views on mathematics Gassendi refers his readers in Exercitations paradoxicae adversum Aristoteleos, and whose writings Spinoza had in his library), denied the causal nature of mathematics, often did so by contesting the claim that mathematics instantiates formal-causal relations, thus indirectly confirming how widespread this conception of mathematics was. (Pereyra writes, e.g., that “mathematical doctrine is not properly science” for “the mathematician neither considers the essence of quantity nor treats of its affects as they flow from such essence” [De communibus omnium rerum naturalium principiis et affectionibus, 1562, quoted in ibid, 13].)

106 (*) See e.g. Ep. 8 and 9, which discuss the views of Clavius, Borelli, and Tacquet. 107 Recall my earlier remark in section §2 that formal-causal relations provide a fruitful

starting point for an investigation into Spinoza’s ‘metaphysical logic’: from the perspective of Spinoza’s use of mathematical analogies along the lines of the Aristotelian tradition, one might think that our primary option for a logical interpretation of formal causation would be syllogistic logic. For it is in terms of syllogistic inferences that this whole mathematical tradition conceives of geometrical demonstrations. (As noted earlier, by Spinoza’s time logicians had arguably introduced sufficient reforms into syllogistic logic that it would have been capable of answering the kind of worries Garrett rightly had about the lack of fit between inference and metaphysical dependencies.) However, given the famously critical attitude exhibited by the Early Moderns toward syllogistic logic, and Spinoza’s own apparent lack of interest in it, in the end this doesn’t seem to be a promising route. (Pace Wolfson, who interprets Spinoza’s whole geometrical method in the Ethics as a “veneer of respectability” for syllogistic logic “for which the world was not yet ready”. [PS, 57])

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proprietates]…” (1App; II/79). I take this comment to be a not-too-veiled reference to a

formal-cause interpretation of the nature of mathematics.

This leads me to disagree with the verdict of critics like Bennett who believe that

although Spinoza “sometimes uses the language of causality in discussing logico-

mathematical topics” this “does not bring into mathematics anything we would call

‘causal’.”108 Similarly, I think we must reject an overly narrow interpretations of the

significance of Spinoza’s mathematical analogies as intended solely to rule out final causes, as

both Carriero and Wolfson propose.109 I do agree that Spinoza’s analogies are indeed meant

to deny the existence of final causes (more on this in the next Chapter); however, in my view

this does not exhaust their significance. It seems to me highly unlikely that Spinoza would

have chosen an analogy so strongly associated – as Carriero himself admits110 – with formal

causes, if he had no intention of drawing on this feature in his own thinking, and made no

effort whatsoever to foreclose such an interpretation.

In short, what I want to suggest is that in declaring, in the passage with which this

segment opened, that from God’s nature things follow “by the same necessity and in the

same way” as properties follow from the nature of a triangle, Spinoza’s intention was to

reaffirm Descartes’s conclusion that God is a formal cause. Indeed – to make a more

general observation – as the passage just quoted suggests particularly clearly, it seems that

108 I also disagree with Bennett’s claim that Spinoza’s geometric “turns of phrase” are evidence of Spinoza’s not distinguishing logical from causal necessity (Study, §52, §8.3). My interpretation of Spinoza’s analogies is also a rejection of Joachim’s claim that the analogies make reference to space, and so constitute a type of “abstraction” (Study, 115-117), for which I see no evidence.

109 (*) See Carriero “Spinoza’s views on necessity”, 63-4 and Wolfson, PS, 53. 110 (*) Cf. his “Spinoza’s views on necessity”, 63-4.

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Spinoza’s necessitarianism is a consequence of Spinoza’s mathematical view of causality rather

than of the “pressure from the new science” as some commentators allege.111

In short, Spinoza’s use of geometrical analogies to describe God's causation of

modes allows us to substantiate the stronger thesis I have proposed above, going beyond

what we were entitled to infer about the nature of God’s self-causation on the basis of

Spinoza’s opening definition of causa sui. Namely, Spinoza’s God must now be regarded as a

formal cause not just of his own existence, but also as a formal cause of his modes. To be

clear, this means that for Spinoza formal causality reaches all the way down to the ‘lowest’

level of his metaphysical system: all affections, actions and passions of finite modes are

ultimately the necessary effects of the divine essence, and thus count as effects of a formal

cause. In this Spinoza once again echoes (albeit in the distorting chamber of his substance

monism) Descartes, according to whom, as we have seen, God is a formal cause not just of

his own existence but also of all his “perfections”.112

(c) Definitions.

As I noted above, Spinoza’s proclivity for geometrical analogies when it comes to

illuminating the nature of divine causality has been often acknowledged by his readers.

111 Carriero claims that “Spinoza arrives at necessitarianism by starting with a standard medieval theological position and revising it under pressure from the new science” (“Spinoza’s views on necessity”, 49). Carriero is right to emphasize the importance of the medieval theological context for Spinoza, but it’s not clear to me that Spinoza must look for a model of necessary causal relations to the new science: mathematical formal causal relations furnish another possible model (and, I contend, the one Spinoza actually adopts) of necessary causal relations

112 Spinoza appears to reserve geometrical analogies for divine causality (although he uses such an analogy in the context of modes in 4p57s [II/252], although arguably in this passage the geometrical analogy is used narrowly to stress the necessity of the effects). We cannot of course assume that a mode itself would be a formal cause of its own effects just because such a mode is a property or modification of a formal cause. However in principle I do not see any reason Spinoza would want to deny that the essences of modes are formal causes of properties that follow necessarily from them. Moreover, as we shall in the segments that follow, once we look beyond geometrical analogies, there are good textual reasons to attribute to Spinoza also a formal-causal conception of modes’ causality, not just of divine causality.

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However, what is much less often noted is another, closely related fact, namely that in his

writings Spinoza also models causal relations on the relations between “definitions” of

things and the properties that necessarily follow from them. He writes, for example, in a key

proposition to which we will return in subsequent Chapters,

From the necessity of the divine nature there must follow infinitely many things in infinitely many modes (i.e., everything which can fall under an infinite intellect.)113 Dem.: This Proposition must be plain to anyone, provided he attends to the fact that the intellect infers from the given definition of any thing a number of properties that really do follow necessarily from it (i.e., from the very essence of the thing) [ex data cujuscunque rei definitione plures proprietates intellectus concludit, quae revera ex eadem (hoc est ipsa rei essentia) necessario sequuntur]… (1p16; II/60)

At first blush, this passage may appear to confirm a hypothesis that I have tried to

discredit in section §2, namely that Spinoza adopts a straightforwardly logical model of

causation114. After all, causation is being explicitly likened to “inference” here. And indeed,

a ‘logicising’ interpretation of this proposition and its demonstration has been advocated by

several commentators.115 However, I think that to read the above passage as evidence of a

‘logical’ model of causation is to fall into the trap of following what is only a partial trail. For

the passage indeed brings into play “inference”, but it does so in the context of inferring from

a definition. One might think that this qualification makes a negligible difference, or that it

bolsters the ‘logicising’ interpretation, for it suggests that we are dealing with an inference

from something like a ‘proposition’. However, I want to suggest that in fact Spinoza’s

reference to a “definition” points us instead, once again, in the direction of formal causes.

113 (*) Cf. 2p7c for the equality of substance’s powers of thinking and formally acting. 114 Recall however, that in disagreeing with the logicising readings I’m arguing for basing any

logical account of causal relations on formal-cause relations – I’m not rejecting logical accounts of Spinozistic causality tout court.

115 (*) Cf. e.g. Yovel or Allison, who writes about 1p16 that “[b]y locating the causality or power of God in the very ‘necessity of divine nature’, Spinoza is….conceiving of the causal relation between God and the world in terms of the model of the logical relation between ground and consequent” (Spinoza, 69).

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For what, in the eyes of somebody like Spinoza, is a “definition”? For all their

disagreements on this question, as is well known many Aristotelians and Early Moderns

nonetheless concurred on this one point: the “definition” of a thing exhibits its “essence”.116

As is well known, Spinoza himself subscribes to this view: he makes the claim that a

“definition” of a thing states its “essence” again and again in his writings.117 (Indeed, he hints

at it in the passage now under consideration, by his parenthetical reference to “essence.”)

To be more exact, in Spinoza’s view a “definition” must state the essence of a thing in such a

manner that it allows the understanding to deduce the properties that follow from this

essence (TdIE 95-6; II/34-5) (“[t]hat this is a necessary requirement of a definition”, notes

Spinoza with the slightly impatient air that accompanies a rehearsal of a well-known claim,

“is so plain through itself to the attentive that it does not seem worth taking time to

demonstrate it” [ibid]).118 In other words, for Spinoza the definition of a thing makes clear

its essence as the ground from which that thing’s properties can be derived. That is, for

Spinoza a “definition” makes possible a formal-causal explanation, for it makes possible an

explanation of a thing’s properties by appealing to its essence. Arnauld makes this point

116 (*) Cf. e.g. Aristotle, PA 2.3 90b, 2.10-15; Metaphysics 1031a10-14); Maimonides; GP I 52; Scipion Dupleix; Corps de philosophie, 1603, VI.3.; Cordemoy, Six Discourses on the Union and the Distinction Between the Mind and the Body, 1666, 135. Cf. also Mercer, Leibniz’s Metaphysics, 227; Bolton, “Universals, essences, abstract entities”, 196.

Locke would be in a sense an obvious exception to this Early Modern consensus, since in his view Locke definitions only give us nominal essences (Essay, III.3).

Of course, most Early Moderns did not subscribe to the further Aristotelian view that a definition is reached by “division” and makes reference to genus and species differentia (cf. Aristotle, Metaphysics 7.12). Indeed Spinoza explicitly dismisses this conception of the definition, arguing that it rules out knowledge of God, and hence (since God is the first and universal cause) all knowledge (KV I.7; I/44).

117 Cf. 3p4d (II/145); 1p8s2 (II/50); TdIE 93-5 (II/34); CM I 2 (I/239); Ep. 9 (IV/43); Ep. 12 (IV/53).

So it is misleading for Joachim to claim that for Spinoza “the definition [of a triangle] expresses only a selected part” of “whole nature of the triangle” (Study, 116).

118 (*) Cf. also Spinoza’s rejection of Tschirnhaus’ suggestion that from a definition of a thing “we can deduce only one property” (Ep. 83).

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explicitly in On True and False Ideas (TFI), again stressing that Moderns like himself wish to

reform, and not outright reject, the Aristotelian notion of a “formal cause”: in seeking the

“formal causes” of things, he remarks, the Aristotelians pursue occult and non-explanatory

qualities; anyone interested in “truth”, however, ought to know that to respond to the

question of the “formal cause [la cause formelle]” of something is just to give its “definition [la

definition]” (TFI, Ch. 1).

If this is Spinoza’s understanding of the nature of a definition,119 then we must

conclude I believe that when Spinoza declares in 1p16, cited above, that it will be “plain” to

us how things follow from God’s nature if we recognize that an intellect infers from the

“definition” of a thing all the properties that follow from its essence, he is once again urging

us to understand the nature of divine causation on a formal-cause model. So contrary to how

this proposition and its demonstration are typically interpreted, they point neither toward a

‘logicising’ conception of causality (a reading advocated e.g. by Allison and Yovel)120 nor to a

mechanistic model of blind efficient causality (as proposed by readers like Bennett and

Carriero).121 In short, it is not only the Ethics’ opening definition of causa sui, but also its

119 One could object to my interpretation of Spinoza’s understanding of definition by citing Spinoza’s 1675 letter to Tschirnhaus (Ep. 60), which famously states that the “idea or definition of [a] thing should express its efficient cause”. I will show why this objection does not work when we turn to the topic of efficient causes later in this Chapter.

120 (*) See note 115. 121 See Bennett, Study, §51.2. Carriero, after entertaining the idea that 1p16 represents some

sort of “logical or formal” causation, concludes that “[f]irst appearances notwithstanding…efficient causation is the primary relationship that Spinoza has in view in 1p16” (“Spinoza’s views on Necessity”, 61). He contends that “if the following…is rooted in ‘God's supreme power,’ then that following is primarily causal rather than logical or formal” (ibid, 62; my ital.). But this is a false dichotomy: as we saw already in Descartes’s depiction of God, formal causes are causes that are essentially “powers”.

Carriero’s argument also pivots on his attribution to Spinoza of a scholastic distinction between, on the one hand, what is necessary non-causally, by virtue of a thing’s essence and, on the other, what is causally necessary (for example, the production of propria by the essence), and involves efficient causation (ibid, 75-6). But I’m not sure this distinction can be applied to Spinoza, for it’s not clear that he has room in his ontology for non-causal necessitation (on the formal-cause reading, he

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‘geometrical’ and ‘definitional’ models122 of causation, which indicate that Spinoza follows

Descartes (and, implicitly, Arnauld) in treating God as a formal cause, not just of his

existence but also of all his properties or “perfections”. 1p16 makes particularly clear in

what way Spinoza’s chosen geometric model of inference of properties from an essence is a

model of inference capable of actually adding to our stock of metaphysical knowledge

(contrary to syllogistic logic, which already Descartes excoriated for its epistemic sterility):

our knowledge of the divine essence is what enables our minds to produce other ideas, ideas

of what follows from God, just as our knowledge of the essence of a triangle enables us to

acquire mathematical knowledge of its properties.123

But recognizing that Spinoza’s modeling of causality on the workings of definitions

reveals his underlying formal-cause model of causation also supplies the still-missing

evidence for the stronger version of the thesis I am advocating here, one that would extend

formal causality also to the realm of modes. For it is precisely this definitional model of

causation that Spinoza appeals to when specifying the causal character of “striving [conatus]”,

which is a fundamental causal principle in Spinoza’s metaphysics, applicable to “each

[unaquaeque]” mode.124 The doctrine is absolutely pivotal to Spinoza’s metaphysics for several

reasons, as it determines what actions will pertain to any existing “thing” by virtue of its

essential nature: “striving” is Spinoza’s term for the effects a thing necessarily produces

simply by virtue of existing as an entity endowed with a particular essence (3p6-7). Spinoza

does not). Moreover, this scholastic distinction cannot correspond, as Carriero contends, to Spinoza’s distinction between what is necessary by reason of essence as opposed to by reason of cause (ibid, 75). As we’ve seen, for Spinoza God is a cause of his own existence, but his existence is also necessary by reason of God’s own essence.

122 The definitional and geometrical models of causality will obviously amount to one and the same model in cases where it’s a matter of defining geometrical entities

123 Thanks to Charles Larmore for comments on this point. 124 In the next Chapter I will argue that this doctrine includes in its scope also God, and not

just modes. This claim however is not necessary for my point in this Chapter.

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argues that all “striving” is a striving for “self-preservation”, such that no thing can give rise

to its own destruction, because “the definition [definitio] of any thing affirms, and does not

deny, the thing's essence, or it posits the thing's essence, and does not take it away” (3p4;

II/145). In other words, Spinoza is appealing here to the logical nature of properties that

can follow from the “definition” of any thing in order to explain the causal nature of

“striving”: because no property can follow from a logically consistent definition that can

negate this definition, no thing can cause its own destruction. I will return to this important

doctrine, and to Spinoza’s justification of it, in much more detail in the next Chapter. For

now I only wish to note that Spinoza’s overt appeal to the logical nature of inference from a

“definition” as what provides the correct conception of the causal nature of “striving” of

modes suggests that in his eyes whatever a mode does on account of its own essence (i.e. any

case of genuine “action” [2def2]) is for Spinoza also a case of formal causes at work, since it is

precisely this type of causality that characterizes, as we have seen, the relation between an

essence as stated in a definition and the properties that follow from this essence. From this

we can further extrapolate that, in cases of partial or inadequate causation of effects by any

particular mode (i.e. in case of “passions”), it will be the essences of several modes together

that will constitute the formal cause of the effect in question.125

On the basis of the above, we can conclude I believe that for Spinoza the formal-

cause model constitutes a perfectly general metaphysical model of the nature of causation.

For, as we have seen throughout this section, Spinoza uses this model to characterize not

only God's causation (of his own existence as well as of all modes), but also the causality

proper to modes (whether as total or partial causes). Thus Spinoza must be seen not just as

125 I am grateful to Don Rutherford for an illuminating conversation on this topic. Note that in 5p31 Spinoza equates formal cause with “adequate” cause.

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endorsing Descartes’s conception of God as a formal cause of all his properties or

perfections, including his own existence, but as truly implementing the full generality of the

meaning of “formal cause” that Descartes, claiming to follow Aristotle, stresses in the Replies

but does not himself carry out in his metaphysics.

(d) The nature of “following”

Although I take myself to have already provided sufficient evidence to substantiate

my thesis that Spinoza looks to formal causes to provide a perfectly general causal model in

his metaphysics, this does not exhaust the available evidence for this claim. There are at

least two more textual and conceptual sources of support for such a thesis, and I dedicate

the next two segments to each of these sources.

The first argument I want to put forth in support of this thesis rests on the

significance of Spinoza's recurring depiction of causal relations as relations of necessary

“following”. Recall that proponents of what I have been calling the ‘logicising’ readings of

Spinoza treat his choice of this terminology as a sign that he directly identifies causal

relations with logical relations of entailment or inference. But, as I will now demonstrate, a

closer inspection of how Spinoza actually uses this language of “following” shows that also

this completely general feature of his causal picture points to his espousal of a formal-cause

model instead.

The ‘logicising’ interpretations are certainly encouraged by Spinoza’s apparent

reliance on one and the same verb – to “follow [sequi]” – to describe, on the one hand, the

dependence of propositions on one another in his own arguments, and, on the other, the

relations between causes and effects in Nature.126 For he appears to assert – sometimes

126 (*) For this view cf. e.g. Mason, God of Spinoza, 59.

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almost in the same breath – that one proposition “follows” from another in a

demonstration, and also for example that all things “follow” from God.127 This seemingly

irrefutable textual fact appears to imply quite unequivocally that Spinoza holds that causes

and effects in Nature are simply related as propositions are, one inferable from another.

The problem with this verdict is that the conclusion that Spinoza employs the same

word – sequi – in both causal and demonstrative contexts, is, in fact, again only partially true.

For in fact when Spinoza uses sequi not to refer to his own demonstrations, but to describe

causal relations, he uses it in conjunction with terms like “nature”, “definition”, or “essence” – as in,

something “follows” “from a nature”,128 “from a definition”,129 “from an essence”,130 or what

are effectively equivalents of such phrases.131 That is, contrary to what is assumed by the

‘logicising’ readings, Spinoza does not assert just that modes or effects “follow”, as he does

when describing his own propositions, and relations between ideas generally.132 But, as we

have seen, to claim that something “follows” from an “essence”, a “definition”, or a

127 (*) For the propositional use of sequi cf. e.g. 1p25s (II/67); for the metaphysical cf. e.g. 1p17s (II/62).

128 (*). Cf. e.g. 1p11altd1 (II/53); 1p11s (II/54); 1p17s (II/62); 1p28s (II/69); 1p29d (II/70); 1p33d (I/73); 1p33s2 (II/74).

129 (*) Cf. e.g. 1def8 (II/46); 1p8s2 (II/51); 1p19d (II/64). 130 (*) Cf. e.g. 1p35d (II/77); 1p16d (II/60). 131 There are some variations on these three principal complements of sequitur (i.e.,

“definition”, “nature” and “essence”). However, these variations are, as far as I can tell, all effectively reducible to the same meaning. For instance, sometimes Spinoza talks about things following from God’s “power” (e.g. 1p17s; II/62), but power (by 1p34) is essence. Spinoza also talks about following from an “attribute” (e.g. 1p22), but again (by 1def4) an “attribute” is what expresses the essence (or nature) of a substance. Occasionally Spinoza also asserts that things follow simply “from God” (e.g. 1p28d), but this infrequent formulation seems to be shorthand for following from the “essence” or “nature” of God (cf. e.g. 1p28s: “certain things had to be produced by God immediately, viz. those which follow necessarily from his absolute nature…” [II/70]). Sometimes again Spinoza talks about things “following from” the necessity of God’s nature (e.g. 1p16). However, passages like 1p16d suggest that Spinoza treats this as equivalent to following “from God’s nature” or “essence” (also cf. 1p29s; II/71). Rarely, Spinoza talks about following from a “cause” (e.g. 1ax3; 1p33s1). But it’s clear that for Spinoza “cause” can be equivalent to “essence” or “nature” (cf. e.g. 1p36: “Nothing exists from whose nature some effect does not follow”; cf. also 1p17s[1]; II/61); indeed a formal cause is an essence.

132 (*) See 2p40 (II/120); 3p1d (II/140) and 5p4s (II/283).

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“nature” (a Spinoza treats as equivalent to “essence”133) is to invoke a formal-cause model of

causation.134 We should immediately note here this is equally true whether Spinoza is

discussing what “follows” from the divine essence or what “follows” from the essence of a

mode. For the idiom of “following” appears not only in perfectly general contexts in which

Spinoza talks about “essences” or “natures” in general (as, for example, in 1p36), but also

explicitly in the context of the conatus doctrine,135 which, as we already noted, is a perfectly

general metaphysical doctrine applicable to each and every existing mode. (Here we can see

how the different aspects of Spinoza’s description of causal relations, all his various causal

idioms, all clearly converge on one and the same model.)

In summary, a more careful consideration of a central piece of textual evidence

typically marshaled in favor of the ‘logicising’ interpretations of Spinoza’s metaphysics –

namely, of his reliance on the terminology of “following” – instead confirms, in its full

generality, the thesis that causation in Spinoza’s metaphysics, whether we are considering

divine “actions” or the “actions” and interactions of modes, is fundamentally formal in

character. Indeed, we can cite here Spinoza’s concluding declaration from Part 1 of the

Ethics: “Nothing exists from whose nature some effect does not follow [Nihil existit ex cujus

natura aliquis effectus non sequatur]” (1p36; II/77).136 That is, according to Spinoza, in Nature

there is no thing that is not also a formal cause.

133 This has been noted by many readers. For the equivalence, cf. e.g. 1p36d (II/77); 4def8; 3p56d (II/185); 4p33d (II/231); 3p57d (II/186) and 4p61d (II/256).

134 The same is true of Spinoza’s use of “to infer” (concludere), though it might seem to buttress logicising readings even more clearly than “sequi”: in causal contexts concludere is also overwhelmingly completed by phrases that identify it as an instance of formal causation (cf. e.g. 1p8s2 (II/51); 1p25s (II/68); 1p16d (II/60)).

135 (*) Cf. e.g. 3p7,d, and 3p9s. 136 I return to this proposition in the next Chapter.

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(e) Causa sive ratio, or formal causes by another name.

In this final segment, I want to show that the principal thesis of this Chapter –

namely, the claim that Spinoza adopts, in its full generality, a formal-cause model of

causation in his metaphysics – is also further plausibly bolstered by his notorious

identification of ratio and causa.

In the Ethics the phrase “causa seu ratio” appears repeatedly, albeit over a rather

concentrated span of passages.137 Some interpreters treat Spinoza’s assertion of this

equivalence of causa and ratio as testimony to a fundamental confusion on his part about the

completely heterogeneous orders of causes and reasons.138 More frequently, commentators

(such as Bennett for example139) take Spinoza’s adoption of this formula to confirm a

‘logicising’ reading of his metaphysics, according to which he is directly identifying causal

relations with generic and ill-defined logical relations of inference.

The latter approach is, without doubt, an improvement on the former. But what I

would like to propose now is that the formal-cause model offers us a possibility of grasping

even more precisely both why Spinoza would adopt such an equivalence as a fundamental

principle of his metaphysics, and in what sense he means to identify – and not just associate –

the orders of causes and reasons. That is, a formal-cause model recommends itself here

because of its explanatory prowess: it provides an explanation of Spinoza’s motivations for

asserting an identity of causa and ratio and sheds light on how Spinoza understands this

identity. For if we assume that I’m correct in suggesting that in Spinoza’s philosophy the

137 (*) See 1p11altd (II/52-53), 4Pref (II/206); 1p8s2 (II/50-51). 138 (*), Cf. e.g. Mason: “explanations are not, after all, causes. Causes make things happen while

explanations say why they happen. …[C]ausa is a metaphysical, ontological notion and ratio is an unavoidably epistemological one” (Mason, God of Spinoza, 111-112).

139 (*) Bennett writes, e.g. “When [Spinoza] speaks of the ‘reason or cause why Nature acts’…he thinks he is talking about one relation, not two. It is not that he sees logical links as weaker than they are; rather, he sees causal ones as stronger” (Study, §8.3).

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primary meaning of the notion of “cause” is that of a formal cause, then it becomes clearer

why Spinoza can claim that what may appear to be two completely heterogeneous orders are

in fact one and the same series of relations – why, in other words, he regards the relation

between a “cause” and an “effect” to be simultaneously efficacious (as an instance of potentia,

productive of a modification), and intelligible (qua inference from an essence or essence to a

proprium).

I want to suggest furthermore that the phrase causa sive ratio is indeed Spinoza’s

preferred label for “formal causation” as such, and therefore that Spinoza’s adoption of this

turn of phrase should go some way toward assuaging any doubts one may have about my

main thesis – that Spinoza adopts a formal-cause model of causation – on purely

terminological grounds, that is, as a result of the near-absence of the expression “causa

formalis” in Spinoza’s writings.

Now in Spinoza’s writings the expression “causa seu ratio” appears already in the early

Principles of Cartesian Philosophy (PCP), which were intended to serve as a manual on

Descartes’s system. And indeed, as we shall see shortly, it will be helpful to take here, once

again, a brief detour through Descartes’s philosophy: illuminating the Cartesian roots of this

formula will throw light on how Spinoza understands the equivalence of “cause” and

“reason”. It will also corroborate my claim that the expression “causa seu ratio” refers to a

formal-cause model of causation. Tracing the fate of this Cartesian formula in Spinoza’s

writings will also allow us to flesh out our picture of how precisely Spinoza understands the

nature of a “formal cause”.

In the PCP, the phrase “causa seu ratio” masquerades as a mere restatement of the first

Axiom in Descartes’s geometrical presentation of his system in the Second Replies. However,

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the purported ‘restatement’ is significantly inaccurate.140 For in his axiom – “Concerning

every existing thing it is possible to ask what is the cause [causa] of its existence” – Descartes

appears to continue to uphold a separation between “causes” that govern the existence of

created things and the kind of “causes” that can also be described as “reasons”, but which

apply to God alone: “This question may even be asked concerning God, not because he

needs any cause in order to exist, but because the immensity of his nature is the cause or

reason why he needs no cause in order to exist [non quod indigeat ulla causa ut existat, sed quia

ipsa ejus naturae immensitas est causa sive ratio, propter quam nulla causa indiget ad existendum].” (Ax1,

Second Rep.; AT VII 164.) 141

This claim should sound quite familiar by now: in §2 we came across Descartes’s

claim in the Fourth Replies that the causality underlying God’s existence is exceptional in that

it uniquely involves not an “efficient” but a “formal” cause. As we saw in that section in

that exchange with Arnauld Descartes stipulated that a “formal cause” is itself a kind of

“reason”, more precisely a “reason [ratio] derived from [a thing’s] essence” (Fourth Repl.; AT

VII 236). And so although Descartes himself does not explicitly link his two discussions of

God’s self-causation, and the two descriptions of God's essence, in the two sets of Replies, it

seems clear that the cause which Descartes labels in the Second Replies a “cause or reason” is

the very same cause that reappears, in slightly different terminological garb, in the Fourth

Replies as a “causa formalis”.

Now in Spinoza’s hands, Descartes’s Axiom undergoes a slight shift in formulation,

but one that imbues this Axiom with new metaphysical implications which Spinoza can then

take over in his own system. For in Spinoza’s ‘purported’ restatement of this Axiom in the

140 (*) As Carraud already notes, CSR, 316. 141 (*) Cf. First Rep. (AT VII 108).

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PCP, Descartes’s inquiry into the “cause” of existence of each thing – which, as we just saw,

in Descartes’s text produces a fundamentally bifurcated response – is generalized into a

question about the “cause or reason” of the existence of every thing. Spinoza writes,

Nothing exists of which it cannot be asked, what is the cause or reason, why it exists. See Descartes’s Ax1. Since existing is something positive, we cannot say that it has nothing as its cause (by Ax7). Therefore we must assign some positive cause, or reason why [a thing] exists – either an external one, i.e. one outside the thing itself, or an internal one, i.e. one comprehended in the nature and definition of the existing thing itself. (PCP, Ax11)142

In other words, whereas for Descartes the ontological possibility of a “cause” identical to a

“reason” emerges only when we try to answer the question about causality in the limit case

of divine existence, in Spinoza’s version of this Axiom, the identity of cause and reason

becomes primary and in principle completely generalized. In his version, the Axiom states

that we can ask about the cause-or-reason of the existence of every thing, it is the existence

of every thing, and not just God, that in now potentially at least or in principle referable to a

formal cause.

In this slightly altered causal picture there can still be two different answers to the

question about the causes of a thing’s existence, as Descartes had wanted, depending on

whether we are considering creaturely or divine existence. But Spinoza formulates the

reason for these different answers in a new way: whereas the implication of Descartes’s own

pronouncements was that divine existence alone has a cause identical to a reason, in

Spinoza’s restatement of the Axiom, the relevant difference between God and creatures is

now that only in the former case the cause for existence is “internal” (that is, contained in

142 (*) Cf. CM: “it is evident in itself that if a thing has neither an internal nor an external cause for existing, it is impossible that it should exist.” (1.3; I/241)

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the “nature and definition” of a thing), whereas in all other cases, this cause for existence will

be “external”.143

In reformulating Descartes’s Axiom in this manner, Spinoza is trying to stay faithful

to what would be required in order to reproduce accurately Descartes’s own conclusions

about existential causality. But at the same time he is clearly already tinkering with the basic

framework of the Cartesian cause sive ratio, presumably so as to render this framework truly

capable of reflecting Nature accurately. For – or so I want to suggest – he is getting ready to

adopt this framework within his own system, where he will use it to give slightly different

answer to Descartes’s question about the cause of existence: if we turn to the Ethics, we find

Spinoza introducing the very same typology of “internal” and “external” cause-or-reasons of

existence. But Spinoza makes the equivalence of causa and ratio explicitly valid for each res,

substance and mode alike:

For each thing [cujuscunque rei] there must be assigned a cause, or reason [causa seu ratio], as much for its existence as for its nonexistence…[T]his reason, or cause, must either be contained in the nature of the thing [in natura rei contineri], or be outside [vel extra] it. E.g., the very nature of a square circle indicates the reason [rationem] why it does not exist, viz. because it involves a contradiction [contradictionem involvit]. …[W]hy [cur] a substance exists also follows [sequitur] from its nature alone, because it involves existence … But the reason why [ratio cur] a circle or triangle exists, or why it does not exist, does not follow from the nature of these things, but from the order of the whole of corporeal Nature [ordine universae naturae corporeae]. (11altd1; II/52)144

In other words, in Spinoza’s picture no existence – and indeed no nonexistence (a point that

was at the very least not yet explicit in Descartes’s own writings) – can be without a cause

that would be intrinsically intelligible, that is, without a reason. It is no longer the case that

143 Although note that presumably the cause for nonexistence can be internal to creatures, as in the case of contradictory entities.

144 Spinoza’s choice of a “square circle” in this passage as example of an entity containing (like God) a “reason” for its existence/ nonexistence in its nature underscores the generality of his principle. He can of course give only negative examples of non-divine things whose natures would contain the reason of their existence/ nonexistence, since in his metaphysics only God’s existence can in fact follow from a thing’s essence.

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some causes of existence (the creaturely ones) aren’t reasons; now all causes of existence are

also reasons: God’s essence is an internal cause-or-reason for God’s own existence; the

contradictory nature of a mode is the internal cause-or-reason for the nonexistence of a

contradictory mode (such as a square circle); the “order of the whole of corporeal Nature” is

an external cause-or-reason for the existence, or lack thereof, of a given mode (such as a

particular triangle). Like God's own existence, and like any particular mode, the “order” of

modes also follows necessarily from God’s essence, and so finds its reason in the “nature

and definition” of God. That is, Spinoza like Descartes understands the nature of this

“cause” identical to a “reason” in the specific sense of a formal cause. The Spinozistic

cause-or-reason of the existence of any thing, in each case found ultimately in God’s “nature

and definition”, fits precisely Descartes’s criterion of a “formal cause”, for it is the “reason

derived from God’s essence”.

§5. The nature of “efficient” causes

I hope to have shown in the previous section that there are several compelling

textual reasons to treat formal causation, as conceived by Descartes and others in the Early

Modern period, as the primary model for how Spinoza understands the nature of what he

most often calls, simply, “cause”. However, it is an indisputable textual fact that when

Spinoza does qualify this term further in his writings, he persistently reaches for the label

“efficient [efficiens] cause”. Indeed, he repeatedly describes divine causation in those terms

(for example in 1p16c2). This would seem to suggest that, all the evidence furnished thus far

notwithstanding, in the end “efficient” causation represents for Spinoza a far more

significant causal category than “formal” causation. And this is indeed what most

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commentators believe; furthermore, as noted earlier, they typically view Spinoza as an

enthusiast of a mechanistic, “blind” picture of efficient causation.

Indeed, Spinoza’s recurring references to “efficient causes” in his writings are not the

only objection on behalf of the importance of efficient causality in his philosophy that one

could make. For one could also object to my interpretation of Spinoza’s conception of the

nature a “definition” – one of the pieces of evidence of Spinoza’s adoption of a formal-

causal model that I had marshaled above – by pointing out that in at least one letter (Ep. 60,

to Tschirnhaus), Spinoza explicitly associates “definitions” with efficient causes, stating quite

unambiguously that the “idea or definition of [a] thing should express its efficient cause”.

So in this last section of this Chapter I would like to clarify how “efficient causes” fit

into the formal-cause model of metaphysics that I have attributed to Spinoza, and why

neither Spinoza’s explicit labeling of God an “efficient cause”, nor, more generally, his

repeated use of this in his writings, nor, finally, his affiliation of definitions with efficient

causes in Ep. 60, represent a genuine objection to my interpretation. For, as we shall see,

efficient causes have a precise place in Spinoza’s formal-causal framework, but they are not

agents of a blind mechanism, as is commonly thought. In short, I will argue that the

mechanistic reading of Spinoza’s metaphysics is wrong not just as a thesis about what model

of causation Spinoza privileges in his philosophy, but also as an interpretation of how he

understands the nature of “efficient” causation. The central task of this section then will be

to elucidate what constitutes this more adequate – or so I wish to claim – meaning of

“efficient” causality of Spinoza, one that comfortably inhabits a formal-causal framework. I

will do this by scrutinizing the passages in which Spinoza refers to this type of causality,

starting with 1p16c1, the corollary in which Spinoza calls God an “efficient cause” for the

first time in the Ethics.

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1p16c1 is concise and, it would seem, unambiguous. It states, simply, “From this

[i.e. from 1p16] it follows that God is the efficient cause of all things which can fall under an

infinite intellect [Hinc sequitur Deum omnium rerum quae sub intellectum infinitum cadere possunt, esse

causam efficientem].” (II/60) Unsurprisingly, this is a text much brandished as evidence that

Spinoza embraces efficient causality as his principal model of causation.145 Since, as already

noted, the corollary represents Spinoza’s first reference to God as an “efficient cause” in the

treatise, it will be illuminating to take stock, if only briefly, about what precedes and follows

this corollary. I will restrict myself to just three quick points. First,146 it seems that were one

to judge from the order of presentation of Spinoza’s claims in the Ethics, “efficient

causation” would not be an obvious candidate for being crowned the chief trait of

Spinozistic causation. For the terminology of “efficient cause” is introduced only after many

of Spinoza’s fundamental causal principles – both explicit and implicit – have already been

established.147 Indeed, “efficient causation” arrives on the scene not only after all the axioms

and definitions of Part 1 have already made their appearance, but also after 16 of its 36

propositions. (In contrast, recall that the very first line of the treatise the definition of a causa

sui, arguably involves formal-causation. On that basis alone, if the term “cause” has an

implicit or ‘default’ characterization in Spinoza’s philosophy, arguably the predicate “formal”

has more right to that status than the predicate “efficient”.)

145 (*) See e.g. Carriero, “Spinoza’s views on necessity”, 61. 146 (*) As Carraud also points out, CSR, 312. 147 The term “efficient cause” appears after the characterization of the nature of causa sui;

after the statement of Spinoza’s PSR in 1ax2 (which implicitly attributes a cause to every thing), after axioms stating that “From a given determinate cause the effect follows necessarily; and conversely, if there is no determinate cause, it is impossible for an effect to follow” (1ax3); “The knowledge of an effect depends on, and involves, the knowledge of its cause” (1ax4); after the distinction between substance as what is “in itself” (1def3) and a “mode” as what is in something else (1def5); and between “free” and “compelled” causation (1def7). One could try to argue that efficient causation is somehow implicitly introduced much earlier than 1p16c1. But I don’t see what other Proposition or Axiom could be seen to entail efficient causation, especially given that there appear to be more reasons to see formal causation as the implicit predicate of Spinoza’s bare notion of “cause”

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Secondly, Spinoza’s description of God as an “efficient” cause in 1p16c1 appears as

only one among three – to all appearances equivalent – corollaries, all of which bear on God’s

status as a cause. To be more precise, Spinoza’s characterization of God as an “efficient

cause” must be treated on par with his designation of God as “a cause through himself [per

se] and not an accidental [per accidens] cause” (1p16c2) – meaning that God’s effects are

determined by his nature alone148 – and as “absolutely the first cause [absolute causam primam]”

(1p16c3) – meaning that God is a cause not dependent on any other.149 That is, Spinoza’s

characterization of God as an causa efficiens makes its appearance alongside his invocation of

other traditional causal categories rehearsed in the Scholastic textbooks with which Spinoza

was familiar.150 In other words, the corollaries appear as if they had been intended to settle

in one fell swoop the question of where Spinoza’s God stands vis-à-vis the traditional

nomenclature associated with divine causality, rather than to announce – in the midst of less

significant statements – the quintessence of God’s causal nature, as the standard reading would

have it.

Third, 1p16 itself – the proposition to which Spinoza appends his first assertion that

God is an “efficient cause” – is none other than the proposition in which, we saw earlier,

Spinoza likens divine causation to an “inference from a definition”. Above I argued that we

ought to take this analogy as a clue that Spinoza’s God is to be understood as a formal cause.

If we accept this construal of 1p16, then the “efficient” nature of divine causation

148 (*) Cf. Heereboord, HL, 104-105; Meletemata, 238ff, Burgersdijck, Institutiones Logicae (hereafter, IL), 94-5. Cf. Gueroult, Spinoza I, 249.

149 (*) Cf. Heereboord, HL 109; Meletemata 254ff. Cf. Gueroult, Spinoza I, 247-8. 150 Cf. Heereboord’s HL and Meletemata, and Burgersdijck’s IL. I will not examine Spinoza’s

relation to these textbooks here, but see e.g. Gueroult, Spinoza I (245ff). These additional causal categorizations of God deserve a closer scrutiny than I’m able to give them here; but none of them I believe bears immediately on the question of whether Spinoza endorses a formal-cause model of causation.

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announced by its second corollary must, at the very least, be consistent with the overall formal-

causal metaphysical picture established by 1p16, and thus fit into an overall framework

according to which causality is intrinsically intelligible in the specific sense of inferrability of

properties from essences. But even if we do accept this suggestion, then it may seem that

1p16c1 – “it follows that God is the efficient cause of all things which can fall under an

infinite intellect” – simply asserts that God is the “efficient cause” of all the properties that

follow from his essence as from their formal cause, and hence that Spinoza simply collapses

efficient and formal causality. That is, God appears to be both the formal and efficient cause

of all his properties, and so it seems that to be an “efficient” cause for Spinoza is the same

thing as being a “formal” cause. The least charitable, from the point of view of my

interpretation, way to construe such a conclusion would be to say that this shows that my

“formal cause” reading of 1p16 is misguided, for 1p16c1 establishes that there are no

“formal” causes in Spinoza’s metaphysics over and above “efficient” causes.

However, to infer from 1p16c1 that efficient and formal causes are simply collapsed

by Spinoza would be an overly hasty conclusion. For, to recall, the corollary in question

declares that “God is the efficient cause of all things [omnium rerum] which can fall under an

infinite intellect”. That is, 1p16c1 is not concerned with all that follows from God, including

that most significant of divine properties, God’s own existence. That is, the corollary’s

scope, and so the scope of efficient causality, is narrower than (what I have been suggesting

is) the scope of divine formal causality: the former extends only to all things (res) that follow

from God, not, however, all his properties (such as his existence).151 That is, I believe that the

lesson to be garnered from 1p16 and 1p16c1 is that the scope of God’s formal causality is

151 God's absolute infinity would be another property that follows from God qua formal but not qua efficient cause.

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wider than the scope of his efficient causality: formal causality characterizes God’s causal

relation to his own existence as well as his causal relation to all his modes, whereas efficient

causality characterizes only his relation to modes, i.e. to all the “things” he causes.152 Thus

formal and efficient causality are not simply collapsed by Spinoza in 1p16 and its corollaries, as

the imagined objection had it. The category of “efficient causation” enters into Spinoza’s

metaphysical picture only as a description of God’s relation to his modes. In the context of

divine causality, the label “efficient cause” is meant designate God’s fundamentally formal

causation considered in reference to the distinct “things” God (formally) produces; it is meant to

underscore the distinctness of God from his modes, where this ‘distinctness’ is understood

as possession of a unique essence.153 In this sense efficient causality is indeed only a

152 One may want to object here by citing 1p25s, which announces that “God must be called the cause of all things in the same sense [eo sensu] in which he is called the cause of himself”. However, a closer inspection of the scholium shows that it cannot be used as evidence against my reading. This is the text: “This Proposition [i.e., 1p25] follows more clearly from [1]p16. For from that it follows that from the given divine nature both the essence of things and their existence must necessarily be inferred; and in a word, God must be called the cause of all things in the same sense in which he is called the cause of himself. This will be established still more clearly from the following corollary. Cor.: Particular things are nothing but affections of God's attributes, or modes by which God's attributes are expressed in a certain and determinate way.” (1p25s,c; II/68)

For Spinoza to justify 1p25 – i.e., the claim that God is the “efficient cause” of the existence and essence of things – by insisting that it follows from the fact that these are “inferable” from God’s nature is to confirm once again that Spinoza’s “efficient cause” is not a “blind” or ‘mechanistic’ efficient cause, but represents a particular formal-causal relation among distinct res, according to which the essences of modes are inferred from God's essence, just as God's own essence and existence are inferred from this essence. The scholium associates the “sameness” of “sense” with the fact that the existence and essence of things is “inferred” from divine nature, not with efficient causality. The “sameness” of the sense of causation refers in short to the universal reign of formal causality. The corollary – which is supposed to make things clearer – reminds us that particular things are just properties expressing an essence (an attribute constitutes a substantial essence [1def4]), thus again confirming that behind this proposition lies a formal causal picture.

153 So I disagree with Wolfson’s assertion that Spinoza retains the terminology of “efficient” cause because he reinterprets the meaning of “efficient” to mean “the most general sense of active and as the sum of all conditions that make for causality” (PS, 303). Since “activity” for Spinoza is primarily a matter of being an “adequate cause”, I’m not sure that explaining “efficiency” by “activity” is either correct or illuminating. As I’ve pointed out, Spinoza’s use of the label efficient cause in relation to God is in fact more limited than Wolfson implies. Perhaps Wolfson is inclined to think that “efficient” cause can express a general sense of causal efficacy because of the traditional meaning of efficient cause as what brings about change, but bringing about change is, as we’ve seen,

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‘corollary’ of formal causality, as suggested by the hierarchy of Spinoza’s claim in 1p16 and

connected propositions. But note how far this “efficient” causality is from any kind of

mechanistic and “blind” (i.e. not intrinsically intelligible) efficient causality. Even qua

“efficient cause” God is a cause of things that “fall under an…intellect”: fundamentally, we

are still dealing with the same, inherently intelligible relation of formal causation, only now

we are considering it under a different aspect.154 As Descartes remarks,

[T]he formal cause (or reason derived from God's essence, in virtue of which he needs no cause in order to exist or to be preserved) and the efficient cause (without which finite things cannot exist)…the[se] kinds of cause are different. …[W]hat derives its existence ‘from another’ will be taken to derive its existence from that thing as an efficient cause, while what derives its existence ‘from itself ’ will be taken to derive its existence from itself as a formal cause. (AT VII 236, 238)

This, I believe, is also Spinoza’s picture.

It is significant, therefore, that in the Ethics Spinoza chooses to introduce the

category of causa efficiens at the precise moment at which he asserts (in 1p16) that God

actually does give rise to other res.155 It is the fact that “efficient” causality refers to a relation

to essentially ‘other’ things that explains the deferred introduction of this causal category,

and its specific placement (following immediately on the assertion of the actuality of God's

production of modes) in the series of propositions. These two facts are difficult to bring

into line which the assumption that efficient causality describes the quintessential nature of

divine causality in general.

not the core sense of “cause” for Spinoza: bringing about (intelligible) existence is much closer. 154 Of course another important function of Spinoza’s references to the intellect in 1p16, c1

is to establish that, contrary to the views of many other thinkers, God actually produces everything God conceives.

155 In contrast, for example, the previous proposition, which declares that “Whatever is, is in God” (1p15) remains still at the level of a hypothetical principle, so to speak, or of a necessary condition on any possible effect or existent.

For this point cf. Carraud (CSR, 305-6).

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To be clear, the recognition that 1p16 and 1p16c1 are not merely two different

descriptions of one and the same set of causal relations is true regardless of how we choose

to interpret the nature of divine causality of properties in general described in 1p16 –

whether or not, that is, we accept the formal-cause reading or a ‘logicising’ reading of the

“inference from a definition” – and regardless of how we interpret the nature of divine

causality of things described in 1p16c1 – whether or not, that is, we plump for a

‘mechanistic’ construal of this relation. However, if one opts for this latter reading, rather

than for the formal-cause one I am proposing, when confronted with 1p16 and its

corollaries one faces the formidable task of explaining first of all why relations of blind

mechanistic causation would necessarily follow from the divine essence (since everything

that is the case in Spinoza’s universe must be a necessary consequence of this essence), and

secondly why such relations happen to necessarily correspond to relations among ideas.156 A

formal cause model shows here its superior explanatory potential. For, as I already

suggested earlier, by insisting that all causal relations simply are the intrinsically intelligible

relations of properties to an essence, this model has a ready explanation for the identity of

causal and explanatory orders. Moreover, unlike the mechanistic interpretation – which, to

provide a complete account of divine causation must show what it is about God's nature that

necessitates that this particular species of causality follow as a necessary property from God's

essence – the formal-causal model does not posit any additional metaphysical facts or

relations over and above this following of properties from God's essence.

The rest of the Ethics bears out the conclusion suggested by 1p16 and c1 that the

category of divine “efficient” causality always carries an implicit reference to (essentially)

156 Here presumably one would appeal either to Spinoza’s parallelism doctrine or to PSR or both.

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distinct res. For every time Spinoza uses the label “efficient cause” in this work to describe

divine causation – which to be clear, is only three more times – it is as a term reserved for

reference to God’s causation of other things.157 It is precisely in this spirit also that in

1p17s[II] Spinoza glosses 1p16c1 – and so God's nature as an “efficient cause” – in terms of

God's being “prior in causality to all things [omnibus rebus prior…causalitate]” (II/63).

Furthermore, I want to suggest that this constitutive reference to some other, distinct

‘thing’ is the meaning of the category of “efficient cause” in Spinoza’s metaphysics in general,

and not just in the context of God’s production of modes. For in the few instances in the

Ethics when Spinoza employs the category of “efficient cause” in the context of the modes’

causality, this is also each time in the course of describing causal relations between two

distinct things.158 And in 1p33s1 Spinoza makes this identification of “efficient cause” with

an “external cause [causa externa]” explicit and completely general, as something applicable to

“any thing [res aliqua]”:

[A] thing's [Rei…alicujus] existence follows necessarily either from its essence and

157 The next time “efficient cause” appears is 1p25, which declares that “God is the efficient cause, not only of the existence of things, but also of their essence” (II/68). 1p26d mentions “efficient cause” only to restate points made in 1p16 and 1p25 (“God, from the necessity of his nature, is the efficient cause both of its [a thing’s] essence and of its existence (by [1]p25 & [1p]16)” [II/68]). Finally, 2p5 talks about God as the “efficient cause” of the “formal being of ideas” (II/88).

158 See 2def5, 3p15c, 3p16,d; 3p17s; 4Pref (II/207); and 4AppVI. In the TTP, the sole appearance of “efficient cause” is also in relation to modes (3.12). The

second mention of “efficient cause” at 4Pref (II/207) (“nothing belongs to the nature of anything except what follows from the necessity of the nature of the efficient cause. And whatever follows from the necessity of the nature of the efficient cause happens necessarily”) is ambiguous, insofar as it is not clear whether Spinoza is referring to the divine efficient cause or to a finite one—indeed presumably the passage is meant to encompass the most immediate external cause as well as ultimately God; however, neither reading undermines my reading of efficient cause as external.

Cf. also CM: “it is evident in itself that if a thing has neither an internal nor an external cause for existing, it is impossible that it should exist… without either the power of its own essence (which is what I understand by an internal cause), or the power of the divine decree (the only external cause of all things)” (1.3; I/241); “[C]reation is an activity in which no causes concur except the efficient, or a created thing is that which presupposes nothing except God in order to exist…I say that in creation no other causes concur beyond the efficient. I could indeed have said that creation denies or excludes all causes except the efficient.” (2.10; I/268).

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definition or from a given efficient cause [vel ex data causa efficiente]. And a thing is also called impossible from these same causes – viz. either [vel] because its essence, or definition, involves a contradiction, or [vel] because there is no external cause [causa externa] which has been determined to produce such a thing. (II/74)159

(Of course since Spinoza conceives of God as an “immanent [immanens]” cause (1p18),

“externality” of efficient causes cannot be confused for the externality of two substances: it is

an externality of entities endowed with distinct essences, within a substance-monistic

framework.)

Our recognition that for Spinoza an “efficient cause” is an instance of formal

causation, insofar as the causal relation in question transpires between two or more

essentially distinct things, shows also why Spinoza’s declaration in Ep. 60 that the “definition

of [a] thing should express its efficient cause” does no damage to the case for a formal-cause

model of Spinoza’s metaphysics put forth in this Chapter. Indeed the letter in a particularly

clear way shows to what extent Spinoza effectively endows what he calls “efficient causes”

with all the properties of formal causes. 160 For when in this letter Spinoza remarks that the

definition of a thing must express its “efficient cause”, in the very same breath, and as a

matter of an equivalence of the two formulations, he demands that the definition be such

that it allow for the deduction of the thing’s properties. But it is not immediately obvious in

what sense stating the “efficient cause” of a thing will allow us to perform such a deduction

from essence, if we continue to construe this “efficient cause” in the “blind” or ‘mechanistic’

sense, as Spinoza’s commentators are prone to do.161 In short, rather than constituting clear

159 Note here that this passage reaffirms that both an external, efficient cause and a thing’s essence/definition are in Spinoza’s eyes a “reason”.

160 For this point that the efficient cause of the Ep. 60 really behaves like a formal cause cf. Carraud, CSR, 323-4, 311

161 Perhaps in the sense that seeing the mechanical process of production of a thing will give us reasons to believe that a thing so produced will have certain properties. Cf. Hobbes: “How the

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proof of Spinoza’s allegiance to a mechanistic picture of causation, Ep. 60 shows instead that

at the very least what Spinoza labels an “efficient cause” cannot be understood as a blind and

mechanistic cause. I would want to claim furthermore that, by equating the statement of a

thing’s cause with a statement of what it allows for a deduction of properties – that is with a

statement of its essence – the letter confirms that for Spinoza an “efficient” cause is a

species of formal cause.162

In general, in reaching for the label of “efficient cause” to describe a causal relation

between distinct things, Spinoza is in keeping with longstanding philosophical tradition. For

already in the Aristotelian tradition, “efficient causes”, in contrast to formal and material

causes, were like final causes, traditionally considered to be external to, or distinct from, their

effects.163 And this sense of “efficient causality” was picked up also by the Moderns. Thus

Arnauld & Nicole remark in their Logique, for example, the “efficient cause is that which

knowledge of any effect may be gotten from the knowledge of the generation thereof, may easily be understood by the example of a circle: for if there be set before us a plain figure, having, as near as may be, the figure of a circle, we cannot possibly perceive by sense whether it be a true circle or no; than which, nevertheless, nothing is more easy to be known to him that knows first the generation of the propounded figure. For let it be known that the figure was made by the circumduction of a body whereof one end remained unmoved, and we may reason thus; a body carried about, retaining always the same length, applies itself first to one radius, then to another, to a third, a fourth, and successively to all; and, therefore, the same length, from the same point, toucheth the circumference in every part thereof, which is as much as to say, as all the radii are equal. We know, therefore, that from such generation proceeds a figure, from whose one middle point all the extreme points are reached unto by equal radii.” (De Corpore I. 1. 5 (ital. added)).

162 However, this letter also is a source of a potential textual objection to my construal of Spinoza’s “efficient cause” as an external cause, because Spinoza writes in this letter that an efficient cause can be “external” as well as “internal”. However, it’s not clear how much weight to put on this epistolary passage, especially given that, as we saw, the letter actually endows “efficient cause” with all the properties of a formal cause.

163 (*) Cf. e.g. how Suárez draws the distinction between “formal” and “efficient” cause: “note here the difference between the union which we said is the causality of the form and the action which…is the causality of an efficient cause. For its action is the causality of an agent in such a way that the agent, insofar as it is acting, remains entirely outside the effect. For although it communicates itself through action, it does not do so by giving itself through itself to the effect, but by conferring upon it some similar entity. But union is the causality of form in such a way that, by means of it, the form offers itself either to the matter or the composite. For it is an intrinsic cause causing through itself.” (MD 15.6.7; my ital.) Cf. also MD 17 (where Suárez describes an efficient cause as “external principles” “of the action or change”); Burgersdijck, IL I p. 91; Heereboord, Meletemata (ed 1654) II Disp 13, p. 229a.

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produces another thing [La cause efficiente est celle qui produit une autre chose…]” (PRL 3.18;

224/186). That “efficient causation” denotes external causation is also clear for example

from Arnauld’s comment in the Objections that “the only things that require an efficient cause

are those in which actual existence may be distinguished from essence” (Fourth Obj.; AT VII

213), that is, those things whose existence is not already entailed by their own essence.164

Indeed, as we saw earlier, for all his willingness to lift traditional restrictions on efficient

causes (such as temporal priority), Descartes put his foot down on this one point: to him it is

clear by the natural light, on paint of contravening the Principle of Identity, that an efficient

cause must be “distinct from its effects”. It is precisely this, we can recall, that leads him to

establish a causal ontology that would have room for formal causes.165 This is not to deny

that different thinkers then went on flesh out this externality constitutive of “efficient cause”

in different ways: some indeed envisioned that external causation would have to be a matter

of blind, mechanistic interactions. I have been trying to show that this was not, however,

the route that Spinoza himself chose.

*

In this Chapter I claimed that attributing to Spinoza a formal-cause model carries

with it decisive advantages from the point of view of Spinoza’s ability to justify his claims. I

said for example that this model means that we no longer have to view the intelligibility of

causality as a brute assertion on Spinoza’s part of an identity holding between two entirely

heterogeneous series of relations, since formal causal relations are precisely the kinds of

relations that are simultaneously intelligible and productive of further existents. Perhaps

164 Descartes echoes Arnauld’s verdict when he responds that indeed, “the efficient cause” is the one “without which finite things” – those things that are not self-caused – “cannot exist” (Fourth Rep., AT VII 236; cf. also ibid, 240).

165 (*) See Fourth Rep., AT VII 239-241. Cf. also “the notion of an efficient cause requires that it be distinct from its effect. …All this I gladly admit.” (ibid, 242).

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even more importantly, on the formal-causal model, to explain the phenomenon and nature

of causality Spinoza does not have to posit any additional metaphysical facts or relations

over and above the fact that there exists an essence from which properties necessarily

follow. In other words, in asserting that causality is formal in nature Spinoza can be seen as

simply reiterating that a thing (which exists iff there is a corresponding unique essence) exists

and has properties that necessarily follow from this essence: the assumption that causality is

formal in nature is just the assumption that essentialism – understood as the doctrine that

what exists are things endowed with essences which in turn determine the properties of

these things – is true.166 But even if we grant Spinoza the claim that a substance as he

conceives of it must exist (for there is no conceivable reason for it not to exist – a doctrine

fraught with its own difficulties, but one I will not analyze here) the question still arises why

this substantial essence should give rise to any properties – why that is, must God give rise

to a world of modes. Why should we think of the nature of what is, or of ‘Being’ in general,

as a single essence from which necessarily certain properties follow? This is the question I

address in Chapter 4.

But first, in Chapter 3, I want to attend to a different issue. In this Chapter I claimed

that formal causes supply the primary meaning of the Spinozistic notion of cause, and also

that this formal mode of causality is characterized by Spinoza as “efficient” when the causal

relation in question takes place between two or more distinct res. In the next Chapter, in

order to flesh out further this picture we have begun to sketch of the nature of causality in

Spinoza’s philosophy, I want to examine the fate within Spinoza’s metaphysical framework

of the third of the four Aristotelian causes, namely final cause. In that Chapter I will suggest

in particular that Spinoza’s notorious ‘conatus doctrine’, which asserts that all things “strive”

166 I will not defend Spinoza’s essentialism here.

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for self-preservation (3p6), and which typically is interpreted as a teleological doctrine, is in fact

a restatement of the universal reign of formal causality. “Striving”, as we shall see, denotes for

Spinoza the necessary following of properties from an essence, and thus is simply another

name that Spinoza gives to the operation of formal causes.

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CHAPTER 3: SPINOZA ON FINAL CAUSES

§1. Introduction

There are two principal theses I will advance in this Chapter. First, I will show that

Spinoza dispenses with all final causes in his metaphysics, not just at the level of substance

but equally (contrary to what is asserted by the majority of commentators today), at the level

of finite modes, including human beings. Now, if we were to believe the standard account

of the Early Modern period, we might think that when Spinoza excludes all final causes from

his ontology, the only metaphysical option left on the table is a purely mechanistic universe,

governed by “blind” efficient causes. This is a common conclusion among scholars.1 But

this picture is not borne out by a close examination of Spinoza’s writings. For Spinoza’s

comprehensive rejection of final causes is not only consistent with his adoption – argued for in

the previous Chapter – of the intrinsically intelligible formal causality, rather than of “blind”

mechanism, as his primary causal model, but in fact, as I will show in the present Chapter,

these two causal claims simply form the two sides, the negative and positive aspects so to

speak, of one and the same causal thesis. In short, we cannot represent the philosophical

1 (*) Cf. e.g. Bennett’s conclusion that for Spinoza “nothing has a final cause because everything has an efficient cause” (Study, §51.2; my ital.). Cf. also Carriero: “Spinoza's rejection of final causality…is based on the separation of efficient causality from final causality found in the new science… [T]he new science affords Spinoza powerful reasons for divorcing final causality from efficient causality and confining the former to an epiphenomenal status. This in turn provides Spinoza with a reason for thinking that God's power, like any power, is exercised in a blind and necessary manner…” (“Spinoza’s views on necessity”, 59); “…if the motive tendencies connected with the human body are blind, that is, if they are not end-governed…” (ibid, 137, my ital.); “The main idea behind Spinoza’s account of agency [in his conatus doctrine] is to take the picture of agency that he finds in simple situations in the new science and to apply it systematically. …[Simple bodies’] motive tendencies are not structured about ends.” (“Spinoza on final causality”, 134).

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alternative facing Spinoza as ‘either teleology or mechanism’, as if Spinoza’s rejection of ends

meant that he was inexorably pushed toward mechanism. To put Spinoza’s metaphysical

options in this way is to paint a picture that not only distorts the textual evidence of

Spinoza’s own thought but more generally impoverishes and misrepresents the rich causal

ontology recognized by 17th century thinkers.

The second thesis I will put forward in this Chapter has to do with the fact that

Spinoza’s rejection of all final causes means, inter alia, that one of his central metaphysical

doctrines – the so-called doctrine ‘conatus doctrine’, or the principle that each thing can be

said to “strive [conari]” to “persevere” in its being (3p6) – must also be understood in non-

teleological terms, again contrary to prevailing scholarly opinion. In the second half of the

Chapter I will propose a new, non-teleological interpretation of striving as a basic building

block of Spinoza’s metaphysics.2 One of my conclusions will be that (contrary to

contemporary scholarly consensus, according to which only finite things can be said to

“strive”) the causality of substance also must be understood as an instance of “striving”

according to Spinoza. A recognition of Spinoza’s commitment to the existence of divine

striving will supply what I think is a much-needed corrective to the prevalent image of

Spinoza’s metaphysics, one that aligns his views on causality with his commitment to a

thoroughgoing naturalism, understood as the principle that all things in Nature play by the

same rules, with no room for arbitrary and unjustified exceptions.

These then will be the two main concerns of the present Chapter. Since I have

portrayed both of these theses as going against the grain of the now dominant

2 In what follows by the “conatus doctrine” I will mean not just 3p6 but the theses established by the group of propositions stretching from 3p4 to 3p13. However, later I will argue that the conatus doctrine is in fact more properly viewed as having been articulated already in 1p16 and 1p36.

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interpretations, let me say a few words about the latter, putting them in their historical

context. Of all causal doctrines asserted by Spinoza, his views on teleology are certainly the

most notorious. For a very long time – to be more precise, since the end of the 17th century

until the mid-1980s – the virtually unanimous consensus among Spinoza’s readers was that

the Ethics indeed contains – to use Jonathan Bennett’s formulation – a “drastic” and “radical

attack” “against any kind of teleology”.3 In fact, already Leibniz condemned “the Spinozist

view” for “dismiss[ing] the search for final causes and explain[ing] everything through brute

necessity [une necessité brute]”.4 Schopenhauer seems to echo Leibniz’s conclusions when he

writes, more than a hundred years later, that “Spinoza did not know how to help himself

except by the desperate stroke of denying teleology itself… an assertion whose monstrous

character is at once apparent to anyone.”5

This assessment of Spinoza’s causal views – as entailing a thoroughgoing rejection of

teleology – seems to be fully borne out by the text of the Ethics. Arguably no error of

human thought is the object of as much opprobrium in that work as the belief that there are

ends in Nature. For Spinoza the cardinal failure of teleological notions is that they simply do

not reflect the nature of things as they are in themselves. And given that for Spinoza, as for

most philosophers before him and contemporaneous with him, knowing something involves

knowing its cause (1Ax4; II/46), being mistaken about the causes of things has obvious and

immediate repercussions for all our claims to knowledge. As far as Spinoza is concerned, it

seems that no error is equal to this one in terms of the gravity of its consequences for human

thought: teleological conceptions of the world are implicated in our anthropocentric

3 (*) Study §51.1; my ital. 4 (*) NE I.1. Cf. “Two Sects of Naturalists”, AG 282. 5 (*) The World as Will and Representation (hereafter WWR), v. 3, ‘On Teleology’, 339-340. Cf.

also ibid, 337.

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delusions about natural things (for example, when we imagine that all natural things are mere

“means” to our “ends” [1App; II/78]), our misconceptions about the nature of God whom

we erroneously conceive to be a willful ruler (1App[I]; II/78) and in sundry moral and

religious prejudices (as when we take ourselves to act for the sake of some objectively true

good [4Pref; passim]). Thus if the Ethics can be seen as a project of “emendation of the

intellect”, in the manner of Spinoza’s eponymous earlier work, one could very well argue

that a substantial part of this “emendation” would consist in the eradication of this single,

but extraordinarily fecund, error. This criticism of ends that one finds in Spinoza’s writings

belongs of course to a more general historical shift away from the Aristotelian mode of

natural-philosophical explanation, in which teleological concepts played a central role, a shift

that culminated in the work of 17th century philosophers like Descartes, but had began

already in the late medieval period among the Aristotelians themselves.6 But whereas at least

some 17th thinkers were content to condemn final causes as merely superfluous, Spinoza was

– as I will show – much more uncompromising in his denunciation: “all final causes are

nothing but human fictions [omnes causas finales nihil nisi humana esse figmenta] (1App; II/80),

dreamt up in the wake of our failure to understand Nature.7

But although an uncompromisingly anti-teleological interpretation of Spinoza’s

metaphysics is clearly encouraged, as was recognized by the likes of Leibniz and

Schopenhauer, and as we shall in more detail in the course of this Chapter, both by

Spinoza’s explicit criticism of ends and by his causal doctrines, there is a virtually unanimous

6 For a more detailed account of this shift among the late Aristotelians see e.g. Des Chene, Physiologia. Attacks on Aristotelian natural philosophy were carried out in the Renaissance also by Platonists, and by the adherents of Hermeticism and the Chemical Philosophy of Paracelsus. On this see e.g. Garber, “Descartes’ Physics” (287).

7 This particular passage is, it should be noted, ambiguous: it could be read as dismissing as fictitious all divine ends. I return to this passage in detail below.

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scholarly consensus at the moment8 that Spinoza retains teleology in his metaphysics at least

in the sphere of human action, but perhaps for all finite things. That is, according to the

school of thought now in ascendance, there is, after all, room in Spinoza’s metaphysics for at

least some final causes, for the sole target of Spinoza’s anti-teleological polemics is the idea

that God acts on ends. On this reading, although Spinoza’s God is driven by the blind and

brute necessity, as Leibniz had charged, Spinoza’s metaphysics has room for human beings

who truly do act on ends, have purposes and end-directed desires.

We should note that establishing whether Spinoza indeed exempts human ends from

criticism matters not only for the purpose of throwing light on Spinoza’s causal metaphysics.

For what is also at stake is the fate of a fundamental tenet of Spinoza’s system, namely his

doctrine the human case is not exceptional, such that we are not, as he famously puts it, a

“dominion within a dominion” (3Pref; II/137), subject to different rules than other beings.

Although this doctrine seems to be clearly incompatible with the contention that Spinoza

accepts teleology in the realm of human affairs alone, proponents of the weaker reading of

Spinoza’s criticism of ends typically pass over it in silence, without any attempt to show how

their reading can be rendered compatible with Spinoza’s assertion of the non-exceptionalism

of the human case.

The weaker reading of Spinoza’s criticism of ends has been advocated in various

ways by many scholars, including Curley,9 Gabbey,10 Garrett,11 Jolley,12 Lin,13 Manning14 and

8 The only two published contemporary exceptions to a teleological reading of Spinoza that I am aware of are Della Rocca (see e.g. his Spinoza) and Carriero (see his “Spinoza on final causality”).

9 (*) Cf. e.g. “On Bennett’s Spinoza”, 40, and BGM, 108, 164n. 10 (*) Cf. “Spinoza's Natural Science and Methodology”, 163-4. 11 (*) Cf. “Teleology in Spinoza and Early Modern Rationalism” (hereafter, “Teleology in

Spinoza”), esp. 311-4, and “Spinoza’s conatus argument”, 127. 12 (*) Cf. his “Metaphysics”, Cambridge Companion to Early Modern Philosophy, 121. 13 (*) Cf. “Teleology and Human Action in Spinoza”, 318.

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Nadler.15 Most often such a reading is offered simply as a more faithful rendering of

Spinoza’s explicit pronouncements on the one hand and his causal doctrines on the other.

There are two pieces of such textual and doctrinal evidence that scholars focus on in

particular. First of all, it is frequently argued that Spinoza’s most extensive and explicit

criticism of ends, found in the first Appendix of the Ethics, is not really as comprehensive as it

might seem at first glance, but in fact leaves at least human ends outside its scope.16 The

second way the case for diluting the force of Spinoza’s criticism of teleology is made is by

appealing to the conatus doctrine. Interpreters such as Curley,17 Gabbey,18 Garrett,19

Manning,20 and Nadler21 all claim that the conatus doctrine represents a fundamental

teleological principle at the heart of Spinoza’s conception of finite things.

14 (*) Cf. “Spinoza, Thoughtful Teleology, and the Causal Significance of Content” (hereafter, “Spinoza, Thoughtful Teleology”), 190.

15 (*) Cf. e.g. Spinoza’s Ethics: An Introduction (hereafter, Spinoza’s Ethics), 198-9. 16 (*) Cf. e.g. Manning, “Spinoza, Thoughtful Teleology”, 182 ; Curley, “On Bennett’s

Spinoza”, 41; Garrett, “Teleology in Spinoza”, 316-317. 17 Although Curley rightly insists on the Cartesian provenance of Spinoza’s conatus – a topic

to which we shall return below – he nonetheless reads 3p6 as a teleological principle, glossing the proposition as asserting that “if doing X would maintain a thing in existence, then it will do x, if it isn’t interfered with” (BGM, 108), adding, “I am, then, interpreting p6 as a teleological doctrine” (ibid, 164n).

18 (*) Gabbey writes, “[I]t is plainly teleological. Ethics 3p6, Ethics 5a1 and its echo of Descartes…and of course Spinozan conatus, all conspire to cast the gravest doubts on the conventional view that Spinoza's mature philosophy is wholly free of finalism” (“Spinoza's Natural Science and Methodology”, 164).

19 (*) Garrett writes e.g.: “This doctrine of a universal conatus – striving or "endeavor" - for self-preservation is central to Spinoza's philosophy in many different ways. Because he attributes this striving toward self-preservation to all organic and nonorganic things alike, it provides his theory of natural science with a source of teleological explanation.” (“Spinoza’s conatus argument,” 127)

20 (*) Manning writes, e.g., “Spinozistic conceptions of appetite and desire themselves need not be read to preclude teleology” (“Spinoza, Thoughtful Teleology”, 190). (For the equivalence of the terms “appetite”, “desire” and “conatus” in Spinoza’s philosophy cf. e.g. 3p9s.)

21 (*) Nadler observes that, for Spinoza “all individuals have a basic kind of teleological behavior, in so far as they strive to do what best preserves their being… To speak about individuals striving to do things because they are conducive to their self-preservation seems to introduce goal-directed behavior”, “[Spinoza] may indeed be perfectly willing to attribute to all things, human and otherwise, goal oriented action, as long as this is properly understood in Spinozistic terms – i.e. without implying either freedom of choice or conscious endeavor – and as long as it does not mean that God or Nature itself acts for the sake of ends…” (Spinoza’s Ethics, 199, ital. in the orig.)

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However, in addition these twofold textual considerations, there are several further

considerations that could motivate and recommend a more diluted reading of Spinoza’s

criticism of teleology.

1) First of all, there is the desire to avoid saddling Spinoza with what may appear to

be an utterly amoral vision of the universe. For Spinoza’s comprehensive elimination

of final causes can indeed appear to be a “monstrous” vision, to use Schopenhauer's

term. 22 This is because it would entail that, contrary to what many philosophers

held, there is no free-willing God who aims at justice or goodness in creating the

world, or (as the Aristotelians for example believed) who gives all natural things

ends, through which they all ultimately serve the cause of human well-being.23 Nor

can there be any objectively true, in a realist sense, moral ideals or goals, that could

guide our thoughts and actions. And indeed the moral “monstrosity” purportedly

implied by Spinoza’s metaphysical commitments was emphasized by many, not least

Leibniz, who described the “Spinozist view” as one that “allows God infinite power

only, not granting him either perfection or wisdom” (NE I.1). In the same spirit

Bayle wrote of Spinoza as the author of the “most monstrous hypothesis”,

surpassing the “most infamous things that pagan poets have dared” to say against

their gods.24 The 18th century Dutch theologian Franciscus Burmannus likewise

22 To be clear, Schopenhauer’s remark does not seem to be intended in this moral sense: what is “monstrous” about Spinoza’s rejection of teleology for Schopenhauer is Spinoza’s alleged failure to recognize the truth about “organic nature” (WWR, v.3, 338).

23 I mean to be focusing here only on the teleological aspect of these theological pictures, disregarding for the purposes of the present discussion both 1) Spinoza’s critical attitude toward the idea of “freedom” as absence of causal determination, implied in any stipulation of a “free will” as traditionally udnerstood, and 2) Spinoza’s views about the nature of normativity.

24 Bayle’s comment specifically concerns the moral implications of Spinoza’s substance monism, which in his view attributes to God “all the crimes that are committed” (HCD, “Spinoza”, note N).

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declared that Spinoza was simply a “wicked, God-forsaking” and indeed “most

godless atheist the world has ever seen” whose hypotheses were “infinitely

prejudicial to all the societies and concerns of mankind”.25

2) Secondly, such verdicts as those of Bayle, Leibniz and Burmannus can lead one to

suspect that Spinoza’s rejection of all final causes will produce an internal difficulty

for Spinoza’s own philosophy, by creating an irresolvable tension between his own

moral and metaphysical doctrines. For as is well known to his readers, our own ends

– whether in the form of “virtue”, “blessedness”, or “intellectual love of God” –

constitute an essential part of Spinoza’s own philosophy.26 That is, the image

Spinoza offers of himself in the Ethics is not just that of a metaphysician who

upholds a determinate set of causal doctrines, and who is intent on recording the

objectively true descriptions of the “essences” and “properties” of things, but also of

a moral and religious philosopher who claims to lead us “as if by the hand” (2Pref;

II/84) to our “highest good [summum bonum]”, the right “way of living [vivendi ratio]”,

to “virtue [virtutis]”, “blessedness [beatitudo]” and “salvation [salus]”, a philosopher

who characterizes understanding as the only “certainly good” thing (4p27), implicitly

scorning the very idea of a search for knowledge that would be a disinterested or

25 (*) ‘t Hoogste Goed der Spinozisten vergeleken met den Hemel op Aarden, 20, cited in Israel, Radical Enlightenment, 419. Burmannus also accused Spinoza of “abolishing all natural obligation to obey His [God's] commandments and true morality”, displaying “insufferable arrogance and contempt for everything that can be called divine or worldly wisdom” (ibid, 3-6, cited in Israel, 420). Cf. as well the verdict by the German theologian and philosopher Buddeus that Spinoza is the “chief atheist of our age” (Lehr-Sätze von der Atheisterey und dem Aberglauben, 144, cited in Israel, 161)

26 (*) Thus e.g. Lin, who has a weaker reading of Spinoza’s criticism of teleology, also holds that “[m]uch of the moral psychology that Spinoza develops and applies to the explanation of human bondage to the passions in parts 3 and 4 of the Ethics presumes that human action is goal directed” (“Teleology and human action in Spinoza,” 319).

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purely theoretical endeavor.27 Indeed, the density of moral and religious vocabulary

in the Ethics grows the closer we are to the ‘conclusions’ of this deductively

structured work, and in fact already the very title of the Ethics announces in rather

unequivocal fashion that Spinoza thought of himself as writing a work of moral

philosophy, or at least that he wished to present himself in such a light.28 Thus

insofar as we wish to take Spinoza’s moral philosophy as seriously as we take his

metaphysics, it seems that we cannot conclude simply that he disavows the existence

of all ends, in every sense. For if final causes are one and all philosophically

illegitimate in Spinoza’s eyes, as his metaphysics appears to (and, I will claim, does)

dictate, then it may seem that Spinoza’s moral philosophy, with its values, norms,

prescriptions and ideals also has no right to be.29

In short, a diluted reading of Spinoza’s criticism of teleology may also serve a

desire to avoid saddling Spinoza with what appear to be incompatible sets of

doctrines.30 And whatever one thinks of such a diluted reading as a solution to this

problem, it is important to recognize the broader consequences that any

interpretation of Spinoza’s views on ends will have for his moral philosophy, and

hence for the unity of his system of thought more generally.

27 In this spirit Spinoza writes in the TdIE about the desire to render the intellect “capable of understanding things in the way the attainment of our end requires” (18; my ital.; cf. TdIE 13-14). Cf. also: “In life, therefore, it is especially useful to perfect, as far as we can, our intellect, or reason. In this one thing consists man's highest happiness, or blessedness . …So the ultimate end of the man who is led by reason, i.e., his highest Desire, by which he strives to moderate all the others, is that by which he is led to conceive adequately both himself and all things that can fall under his understanding” (4AppIV; II/267).

28 (*) Cf. as well the title of Spinoza’s first work, Short Treatise Concerning God, Man and His Well-Being.

29 As I will claim later, this is a fallacious inference, since Spinoza’s rejection of final causes in nature obviously only rules out a narrowly realist conception of moral philosophy on which for example there can be a moral ideal only if such an ideal exists in Nature.

30 For the claim that Spinoza simply fails to be consistent in his criticism of teleology and reintroduces ends in his moral psychology cf. Bennett, Study, 215.

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3) A third possible motivation for a weaker construal of Spinoza’s criticism of

teleology has to do neither with maintaining textual faithfulness, nor with saving

Spinoza from becoming a moral “monster”, nor with assuring the internal coherence

of Spinoza’s system, but with charitably imputing to him views that if not true, are at

least minimally plausible. For arguably, Spinoza’s metaphysics must allow for the

existence of some ends if Spinoza is to be able to give at least a plausible account of

human rationality and agency. For it may seem that any such account requires

minimally the admission of some kind of end-directedness.

4) Still a further and related motivation for the weaker construal of Spinoza’s

criticism of ends would be that that it might seem impossible in general to give a

coherent philosophical account of human thought and action without admitting some

end-directedness. Many philosophers have given arguments to the effect that there

can be no consistent account of human thought and action that does not invoke any

end-directedness as a feature of thought or action but which nonetheless has as its

own end truth or adequacy. Clearly, it seems we ought to try to avoid ascribing to

Spinoza a position that is performatively self-contradictory in this way.31

5) One could, finally, also have a purely phenomenological motivation for why we ought

not attribute to Spinoza a radical rejection of teleology. For if Spinoza genuinely

extirpates all intentions, purposes and goals from his metaphysics, such a picture

flatly contradicts our everyday experience, the picture we have of ourselves as beings

whose thinking, acting, desiring and willing is directed at some end or purpose, and is

held up to certain ideals and norms. Thus it seems that if Spinoza’s metaphysics will

31 While no one to my knowledge has raised precisely this issue in relation to Spinoza’s philosophy in particular, this kind of worry has been expressed e.g. by Appel, Habermas, Hampton and Korsgaard, among others.

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not permit teleology at least within the human realm, his philosophy will simply fly in

the face of the most basic human experience and flout the most basic

phenomenological criteria.32

These then are the various considerations – some internal to Spinoza’s project, some

more general in scope – that might push one to look for textual evidence that Spinoza does,

after all, embrace the existence of at least certain ends in his metaphysics. Now, as I noted

above, there are two principal pieces of text on which scholars desirous of such an

interpretative conclusion rely first and foremost: Spinoza’s discussion of the inadequacy of

teleology in the first Appendix, and the conatus doctrine in Part 3. The bulk of this Chapter

will be dedicated to showing that in fact neither of these can be successfully used to funnel

teleology back into Spinoza’s metaphysics. First, in the remainder of Part A of this Chapter,

I will demonstrate that the first Appendix simply does not bear conclusively on the question of

non-divine teleology. Second, in Part B I will demonstrate that the conatus doctrine cannot

be read as a teleological principle. Stated most succinctly, my conclusion will be that all

available textual, conceptual and doctrinal evidence of Spinoza’s metaphysics

overwhelmingly points to the fact that to read Spinoza as championing any kind of ends in

his metaphysics is to misread him.

However, the aim of this Chapter is not merely negative or critical. For besides

debunking the existing case for a weak construal of Spinoza’s criticism of final causes, in Part

B of this Chapter I will also propose a new interpretation of the conatus as a fundamental

building block of Spinoza’s metaphysics, operating in line with Spinoza’s underlying formal-

causal picture. In the final section of this Chapter I will also suggest how Spinoza would

32 Margaret Wilson is one scholar who uses this appeal to phenomenological data as the criterion in assessing Spinoza’s philosophy, esp. his epistemology. Cf. her “Objects, Ideas and ‘Minds’ ”.

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deal with the above series of general motivations for a weaker reading of his criticism of

ends.

But before I can delve into the detail of my arguments, two clarificatory comments

are in order. First, I want to make clear that in this Chapter I will pursue solely the question

of what Spinoza takes to be an objectively true explanation of the causal nature of things. That

is, I will pursue strictly the question of teleology as it pertains to Spinoza’s causal metaphysics.

This means first of all that by imputing to Spinoza a comprehensive rejection of final causes

at the level of his metaphysics, I don’t want to suggest that he is denying that ordinarily we

take ourselves to be acting in view of ends. Secondly, it means that I will also not address

the issue of legitimacy of teleological language, nor Spinoza’s motivations for accepting

teleological explanations, insofar as he tolerates these to the extent that they can be

systematically translated to refer to other kinds of causes.33 Relatedly, I will not address here

in detail Spinoza’s moral teleology, that is, the nature of ends (such as “virtue”) that appear in

his work. Although all these are clearly germane to a discussion of Spinoza’s views on

teleology more generally, they fall outside the scope of a discussion of his causal metaphysics

33 Cf. e.g. “What is called a final cause is nothing but a human appetite insofar as it is considered as a principle, or primary cause, of some thing. For example, when we say that habitation was the final cause of this or that house, surely we understand nothing but that a man, because he imagined the conveniences of domestic life, had an appetite to build a house. So habitation, insofar as it is considered as a final cause, is nothing more than this singular appetite. It is really an efficient cause, which is considered as a first cause, because men are commonly ignorant of the causes of their appetites. For as I have often said before, they are conscious of their actions and appetites, but not aware of the causes by which they are determined to want something.” (4Pref; II/206-7)

This semantic approach is then the first way in which we can seek an explanation of the presence of a surface teleology in Spinoza’s writings. The second possibility is that in fact all such claims are simply false, and no ‘translation’ or completion transforms them into objectively true claims. Then the question becomes, what justifies Spinoza’s use of what is effectively a non-rational perspective in the Ethics? If teleological claims are simply just false, that is, if they could not have been endorsed by Spinoza because of their truth value, what is the reason they are found in the Ethics? What work do they do within Spinoza’s philosophy that overrides so to speak the significance or impact of their falsehood? Clearly, their claim to legitimacy will not be of the same sort, or be based on the same kind of thing, as the legitimacy of straightforwardly true claims – these acquire philosophical legitimacy simply by being true, that is, by accurately reflecting what is.

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which is my chosen topic here. So I will reserve my comments about these matters for a

brief section at the very end of this Chapter.

The second clarification I want to make here has to do with the meaning of notions

like “teleology”, “final cause [causa finalis]” or “end [finis]”, which, following Spinoza (as far as

the last two are concerned) I will treat here as synonymous.34 Clearly, teleological notions do

not necessarily carry the same meaning for Aristotle, for his various Scholastic heirs, for the

Early Moderns working in their wake, or for contemporary thinkers. The teleology that

Spinoza would have been most familiar with, whether directly or indirectly, is Cartesian

voluntarism and the teleologies of late medieval Aristotelianism. Accordingly, from a purely

historical point of view, it is against this dual background that Spinoza’s views on ends must

be assessed first and foremost, and it is this background that provides the core meaning of

how Spinoza understands a notion such as “end” when he argues that metaphysics has no

room for such entities. Given the complexity of both Descartes’s and medieval views on

this subject, I can do no more here than recall for us this background by sketching it in an

extremely simplified and selective way. I will briefly highlight the theses that, as we shall see

shortly, prove most relevant to Spinoza’s case against ends.

In the case of Descartes, what is most pertinent for our purposes is his conception of

God as a free-wiling creator who also endows human beings with a free will. Spinoza clearly

finds such views unpalatable. However, Spinoza will be much more sympathetic toward

34 To be clear, Spinoza himself uses only the latter two notions. For somebody like Suárez, an “end” is not necessarily synonymous with “final cause”. Cf.

e.g. this comment: “in those actions, insofar as they are from natural agents, there is no proper final causality, but only an aptitude (habitudo) toward a certain terminus; but insofar as they are from God, there is in them a final causality, as in other external and transeunt actions of God.” (MD 23 10 6) As Des Chene writes, for Suárez an “end” is “that on account of which something acts or exists”; for something to be a “final cause” of something else what is required is a relation of causality which consists in an “influx of being” from cause to effect. (“On laws and ends”, 154).

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other elements of the Cartesian stance on ends, such as Descartes’s well-known prohibition

on invoking divine purposes in natural philosophy, and his famous injunction that we must

“banish” final causes from physics (Pr I 28; AT VIIIA 16). With the exception of human

beings, whose sensations have been benevolently arranged by God so as to indicate the

health of the mind-body union (AT VII 82-5), in Descartes’s view we merely attribute ends to

natural things as extrinsic designations.35 However, Spinoza would not consent to arguing

for any such anti-teleological theses, as Descartes does, on the grounds of epistemological

modesty: for Spinoza we cannot invoke divine purposes to explain anything because God

has no purposes, and not because, as Descartes believes, such purposes are unknowable to

us.36

Spinoza will find much more to object to in the Aristotelian picture. One basic

thesis underlying medieval Aristotelian teleological conceptions is that all natural phenomena

are directed toward ends, and that final causes have explanatory priority over other causes.37

35 (*) Cf. e.g. Descartes’s famous characterization of the purposiveness of a clock as a matter of “simply a label which depends on my thought; it is quite extraneous to the things to which it is applied” and his assertion that his “sole concern here is with what God has bestowed on me as a combination of mind and body. My nature, then, in this limited sense, does indeed teach me to avoid what induces a feeling of pain and to seek out what induces feelings of pleasure, and so on….” (Sixth Med., AT VII, 82-5; my ital.).

36 (*) See e.g. AT V 185, VII 374-5, VIIIA15-16, 80-1. To be clear, this is not the only argument Descartes makes for the claim that we should not invoke divine purposes.

37 (*) Cf. e.g. Aquinas: “[A]n agent does not move except from intention of an end; for if an agent were not determined to some effect it would not do this rather than that. Therefore, to produce a determinate effect it must be determined to something certain which has the nature of an end.” (ST, IaIIae Q1 a2); “every agent intends an end while acting, which end is sometimes the action itself, sometimes a thing made by the action.” (SCG 3 Q2); “intellectual agents act for the sake of an end, because they think ahead of time in their intellects of the things which they achieve through action; and their action stems from such preconception… [S]o too does the likeness of a natural resultant preexist in the natural agent; and as a consequence of this, the action is determined to a definite result… Therefore, the agent that acts with nature as its principle is just as much directed to a definite end, in its action, as is the agent that acts through the intellect as its principle. Therefore, every agent acts for an end.” (Opera Omnia, V 161); “the final cause is the cause of the efficient cause, not in the sense that it makes it be, but inasmuch as it is the reason for the causality of the efficient cause. For an efficient cause is a cause inasmuch as it acts, and it acts only because of

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In the eyes of the Aristotelians, only an appeal to final causes is capable of explaining Nature

in all its order, structure and regularity. Finally, the picture of Nature put forth by the late

medieval Aristotelians is also deeply theological: whereas Aristotle himself took ends to be

intrinsic to natural agents,38 later Aristotelians favored a metaphysical framework in which

the ends of non-rational agents were ordained by God.39

In the next section we shall see how Spinoza tailors his explicit criticism of ends to

each of the above theses. However, without losing sight of this historical target of Spinoza’s

anti-teleological polemics, it would also be useful to articulate a more general definition of

“teleology” and “teleological explanation” for the purposes of our discussion. For we

should not dogmatically foreclose the possibility that, although Spinoza rejects the late

medieval and Cartesian interpretations of teleology, he nonetheless endorses some other

form of ends. And so, for the sake of maintaining this broader purview in this Chapter, I

will adopt Garrett’s representative and, I take it, relatively uncontroversial40 definition of a

the final cause. Hence the efficient cause derives its causality from the final cause.” (Opera Omnia, XX 584)

Cf. e.g. Eustachius à Sancto Paulo: “since natural agents do not act randomly or irregularly, it is necessary that they operate toward some end” (De Rebus Physicis, part 3 of Summa philosophiae quadripartita [Cologne, 1638], Part A, Tract. II, Disp. I, Q2, 35).

38 (*) Cf. e.g. “Therefore there is purpose in the things which come to be and are by nature.” (Physics, 198b34).

39 For an extended discussion of this see e.g. Des Chene, Physiologia and “On laws and ends”. 40 I say uncontroversial because Curley glosses his teleological construal of the conatus

doctrine a in similar way, as holding that “if doing X would maintain a thing in existence, then it will do X, if it isn’t interfered with” (BGM, 108). Cf. also Bennett’s explanation of the nature of teleological explanation with the example of raising a hand in order to deflect a stone (Study, §51.3). However, I do not agree with Bennett’s claim that a case in which the thought of deflection functions as the prior cause of raising one’s hands also qualifies for Spinoza as a teleological explanation (ibid, §51.4-5). In my view for Spinoza this would represent a case of non-teleological causality. (Curley objects to Bennett along similar lines; see his “On Bennett’s Spinoza”, 44.)

For a more recent gloss of teleology in a non-Early Modern context, cf. e.g. Mark Bedau’s gloss of teleological statements as having “the form A Bs in order to C” or “A Bs for the sake of Cing” (“Where is the good in teleology?”, 782); or Karen Neander: “Teleological contexts are ones in which there is reference to ends or goals… a concept is teleological if it concerns what something is for…” (“Teleological theories of mental content”).

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“teleological explanation” as an explanation that states “why something is so by indicating

what its being so is for”, “explains a state of affairs by indicating a likely or presumptive

consequence”, which “take[s] the form of ends, goals, or goods.”41 Correspondingly, by a

non-teleological explanation I will understand – to give a provisional definition that I will

develop in Part B – an explanation that shows how a given effect arises from a cause that is

prior (whether ‘by nature’, logically, conceptually or temporally), without invoking any “ends”

or “goods”.42

These clarificatory caveats aside, in Part A I want to look at how the first Appendix

of the Ethics bears on the fate of teleology within Spinoza’s metaphysics. I will begin, in the

next section, by clarifying the general nature of the case that Spinoza makes against teleology in

this Appendix. Building on these conclusions, in the section that follows I will examine

whether we must concede, as most scholars insist, that Spinoza’s criticism of ends in the

Appendix leaves room for what the Aristotelians termed “rational teleology” – and perhaps

even more generally “natural teleology” – in the creaturely realm, and especially in the

sphere of human action. I will show that, contrary to the contemporary scholarly consensus,

the Appendix does not allow us to draw the positive conclusion that Spinoza accepts the

Cf. also C.D. Broad’s claim that S is a teleological system iff S is structured as if it had been designed by a rational mind for certain purposes (Mind and its place in nature, 82). (However, for example Millikan’s “proper functions” would not count as teleological on Spinoza’s criteria. Millikan writes, e.g., that “the definition of "proper function" looks to history rather than merely to present properties or dispositions to determine function… A proper function of…an organ or behavior is, roughly, a function that its ancestors have performed that has helped account for proliferation of the genes responsible for it, hence helped account for its own existence.” (“In defense of proper functions”, 289).)

41 (*) “Teleology in Spinoza”, 310. 42 Garrett is representative among Spinoza scholars in contrasting “teleological” explanation

with “mechanical” explanation, i.e. one that “explains a state of affairs by indicating how it arises from a previously existing physical structure and the distribution of forces within it” (“Teleology in Spinoza”, 310). However, as we saw in the previous Chapter, “mechanical” causation is in fact inadequate as a representation of how Spinoza conceives of non-teleological causation, even if we broaden it beyond Garrett’s narrowly physical definition.

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existence of finite ends, and banishes only divine ends. As we shall see, arguments for this

weaker reading of Spinoza’s denunciation of teleology do not meet with success because

they overlook the dialectical nature of the passages that appear to suggest this reading, and

the supplementary and pedagogical nature of the text in which these passages appear.

PART A. SPINOZA’S CRITICISM OF TELEOLOGY

§2. The first Appendix

As I noted above, most scholars who urge the conclusion that Spinoza rejects the

existence of divine ends alone, preserving the legitimacy of teleology in the creaturely realm

(or at the very least the realm of human affairs) in addition to appealing to the conatus

doctrine, interpreted as a fundamental teleological principle, often build their case with the

aid of a set of passages from the first Appendix of the Ethics. As already noted, I believe that

we must demur both from the general conclusion that Spinoza endorses any kind of

teleology in his metaphysics, as well as from the specific narrower thesis that the Appendix

furnishes textual evidence for this endorsement.

In the present section I will lay the groundwork needed to demonstrate, in the next

section, that in fact the Appendix in no way entitles us to the conclusion that Spinoza has

room for finite ends. More precisely, in what follows I will offer a general characterization

of the first Appendix of the Ethics, first (in a) by summarizing the anti-teleological

conclusions Spinoza reaches there, and secondly by examining the scope (in b) and method

(in c) of Spinoza’s claims in this portion of the Ethics.

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(a) Spinoza’s case against teleology in the first Appendix pivots on an extended

quasi-mythical story about the origin of our teleological prejudices about God qua creator.

Spinoza depicts these prejudices as an extrapolation from our mistaken self-understanding43

as beings who freely act on ends, as both the Aristotelians and Descartes held. (I quote the

passage at length here because it is of central importance in ascertaining what metaphysical

claims Spinoza does and does not commit himself to in the Appendix, and we will be

returning to its various claims repeatedly in what follows.) Spinoza writes,

All the prejudices I here undertake to expose depend on this one: that men commonly suppose that all natural things act, as men do, on account of an end; indeed, they maintain as certain that God himself directs all things to some certain end, for they say that God has made all things for man, and man that he might worship God. … I take as a foundation what everyone must acknowledge: that all men are born ignorant of the causes of things, and that they all want to seek their own advantage, and are conscious of this appetite. From these [assumptions] it follows, first, that men think themselves free, because they are conscious of their volitions and their appetite, and do not think, even in their dreams, of the causes by which they are disposed to wanting and willing, because they are ignorant of [those causes]. It follows, secondly, that men act always on account of an end, viz. on account of their advantage, which they want. Hence they seek to know only the final causes of what has been done… But if they cannot hear them from another, nothing remains for them but to turn toward themselves, and reflect on the ends by which they are usually determined… Furthermore, they find – both in themselves and outside themselves – many means that are very helpful in seeking their own advantage, e.g., eyes for seeing, teeth for chewing, plants and animals for food, the sun for light, the sea for supporting fish [NS: and so with almost all other things whose natural causes they have no reason to doubt]. Hence, they consider all natural things as means to their own advantage. And knowing that they had found these means, not provided them for themselves, they had reason to believe that there was someone else who had prepared those means for their use. For after they considered things as means, they could not believe that the things had made themselves; but from the means they were accustomed to prepare for themselves, they had to infer that there was a ruler, or a number of rulers of nature, endowed with human freedom, who had taken care of all things for them, and made all things for their use. And since they had never heard anything about the temperament of these rulers, they had to judge it from their own. Hence, they maintained that the Gods direct all things for the use of men in order to bind men to them and be held by men in the highest honor. (1App; II/77-9)

43 I will come back to Spinoza’s depiction of our self-understanding in this passage in more detail shortly.

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Spinoza offers us here a genealogy of an idea. His claim is that the very notion of an “end”

enters the repertoire of our ideas simply as a consequence of our ignorance of the causal

chains that have in fact determined us to want and think. Not understanding how that

which we desire or contemplate had in fact been brought about, we erroneously regard it as

the “primary cause” of our actions. (This is a point Spinoza later reiterates in the context of

human action, as we will shall see later.) And so the idea of a final cause – of an end that is

the ultimately responsible cause of our actions – is born, and with it the teleological image of

Nature and God takes root in our minds. For once we settle on the idea that we are beings

whose fundamental nature is to act for the sake of ends, this becomes the perspective from

which we view everything else as well: finding that we able to use and profit from at least

some of the things we find in our surroundings, we infer that all things are, in their true

natures, “means to our ends”. And from such a providential arrangement we infer what

must have been the nature of the first cause responsible for it, and imagine God as a

benevolent ruler. When we are captives of this picture of Nature we hold, as the

Aristotelians did, that final causes have explanatory priority, such that to know the nature of

something is to know its end.

This genealogy of the notion of “final cause” is a history of a commendable desire to

know gone astray, a pursuit of knowledge in which we repeatedly have taken the wrong turn

and opted for a false conclusion. It is meant to emphasize the folly of anthropomorphism:

again and again, Spinoza claims, trying to explain a natural phenomenon we choose instead

to extrapolate from our own, already misperceived case. This conception of God and of its

creation that is the object of Spinoza’s aspersions in this key passage is the belief that the

whole of Nature has been providentially arranged to serve our ends by a free-willing,

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anthropomorphized God, a Nature in which all things function within a hierarchy of

divinely-ordained ends. This is an amalgam of various, and in principle dissociable, beliefs –

causal, theological, epistemological, primarily Aristotelian but also Cartesian. But what is

most important for an analysis of Spinoza’s causal metaphysics is the fact that Spinoza

makes it explicit that he condemns not only the anthropocentric, providential and

voluntaristic elements of this conception, but first and foremost its causal implications:

this doctrine concerning the end turns Nature completely upside down [de fine doctrinam naturam omnino evertere]. For what is really a cause, it considers as an effect, and conversely. What is by nature prior, it makes posterior [id quod revera causa est, ut effectum considerat et contra. Deinde id quod natura prius est, facit posterius]. (1App; II/80)

That is, Nature seen through the prism of teleological notions is an inverted Nature, where

effects are treated as causes and causes as effects. To use Spinoza’s own Aristotelian

example, sight which according to Spinoza must follow from the nature of eyes as their

necessary property, is regarded as their cause, and so as “prior” to them: it is the “end” of

the eyes.

This, in its basic outline, is the verdict on teleology that Spinoza offers in the

Appendix. I want now to say a few words about the scope and method of this section of the

Ethics, for I believe that it is only if we correctly understand the nature of Spinoza’s

undertaking in the Appendix that we will be able to grasp what metaphysical claims Spinoza

commits himself to in his arguments there. A regrettable neglect of such questions has, I

believe, facilitated the prevalent misunderstanding of Spinoza’s position on teleology.

(b) First, the question of the scope of Spinoza’s claims in the Appendix. It is

indisputable that the Appendix contains Spinoza’s most explicit and sustained criticism of

teleology in his entire corpus; as a consequence, and unsurprisingly, it is without exception

read as Spinoza’s definitive statement on the subject of teleology. However, to treat it as the

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major textual battleground on which Spinoza puts forth his definitive position on teleology

in general is to misinterpret both the function of the Appendix and the content of its claims.

That is, neither the unquestionable prominence of the topic of teleology in the Appendix,

nor the ostensibly uncompromising tone of some of Spinoza’s claims there, ought to mislead

us into thinking that his target in the Appendix is teleology in all its forms and instances.

For the primary object of Spinoza’s interest in the Appendix, as was already evident in the

passage we looked at above, is divine nature. Spinoza indeed broaches there also the subject

of human ends, and even the purported ends of “natural things” generally. But, as we have

seen, this is done in service of establishing his primary point about divine nature: that a

teleological, topsy-turvy image of God as creator stems from a generalization of a

misconception of our own nature.

The restricted scope of the Appendix is implicit in its nature as a supplement to a

section of the treatise entitled De Deo, and dedicated to the subject of divine nature. But

Spinoza also announces the specific task and circumscribed role of the Appendix already in

its opening lines, where he explains that its purpose is to purge remaining “prejudices

[praejudicia]” about divine nature, those that could prevent the foregoing demonstrations in

De Deo from being perceived,44 such as the prejudice that God can be said to act on ends,

44 (*) The Appendix opens with the following declaration, “With these [demonstrations] I have explained God's nature and properties: that he exists necessarily; that he is unique; that he is and acts from the necessity alone of his nature; that (and how) he is the free cause of all things; that all things are in God and so depend on him that without him they can neither be nor be conceived; and finally, that all things have been predetermined by God, not from freedom of the will or absolute good pleasure, but from God's absolute nature, or infinite power. Further, I have taken care, whenever the occasion arose, to remove prejudices that could prevent my demonstrations from being perceived. But because many prejudices remain that could, and can, be a great obstacle to men's understanding the connection of things in the way I have explained it, I considered it worthwhile to submit them here to the scrutiny of reason. All the prejudices I here undertake to expose depend on this one: that men commonly suppose that all natural things act, as men do, on account of an end; indeed, they maintain as certain that God himself directs all things to some certain end, for they say that God has made all things for man, and man that he might worship God.”

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which is a doctrine common to both the late Aristotelian and Cartesian frameworks.45 In

other words, the Appendix is foremost pedagogical in intent, and supplementary in content

in relation to Part 1 proper. This means that its purpose is not to lay out Spinoza’s primary

philosophical case against teleology, as is often tacitly assumed when its passages are being

examined, nor to demonstrate metaphysical truths about causality (such as that causality is

non-teleological in nature). Such demonstrations would have been the function of Part 1

proper. That the intended primary target of Spinoza’s polemics in the Appendix is divine

nature – “Nature” understood as substance or Natura naturans – is also confirmed by

Spinoza’s summary of the lessons of this Appendix later on in the Ethics:

we have shown in the Appendix of Part 1, that Nature does nothing on account of an end [Naturam propter finem non agere]. That eternal and infinite being we call God, or Nature [Deus sive Natura], acts from the same necessity from which he exists. For we have shown (1p16) that the necessity of nature from which he acts is the same as that from which he exists. The reason, therefore, or cause, why God, or Nature, acts, and the reason why he exists, are one and the same. As he exists for the sake of no end, he also acts for the sake of no end [ut…nullius finis causa existit, nullius etiam finis causa agit]. Rather, as he has no principle or end [finis] of existing, so he also has none of acting… As for what they commonly say – that Nature sometimes fails or sins, and produces imperfect things – I number this among the fictions [commenti] I treated in the Appendix of Part 1. (4Pref; II/206-7)

In short, both the opening declaration of the Appendix and this later summary of its

conclusions make clear that insofar as Spinoza ventures there into the territory of teleology

his intention is to address divine ends first and foremost. So although I am sympathetic to

Bennett’s interpretation of Spinoza as a philosopher who wishes to reject all final causes, I

would demur from Bennett’s verdict that this comprehensive criticism is already present in

the first Appendix (although it “is easy to overlook because it is well-buried under the

(1App; II/77) 45 (*) For this interest in abolishing prejudices cf. also Ep. 30, to Oldenburg: “The prejudices

of the theologians….these are the main obstacles which prevent men from giving their minds to philosophy. So I apply myself to exposing such prejudices and removing them from the minds of sensible people.”

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discussion of God’s purposes”).46 I would contend that, on the contrary, the blanket

denunciation of teleology is not so much “well-buried” as absent from the Appendix.47

So much for the question of scope of Spinoza’s claims in the first Appendix. Finally,

I want to turn to the equally neglected, and equally regrettably neglected, subject of Spinoza’s

method in the first Appendix. More precisely, I want to elucidate how the Appendix goes

about securing its pedagogical objective of uprooting obfuscatory false beliefs about divine

nature.

(c) Contrary to what is often implicitly assumed by commentators, the objective of

the Appendix is not to demonstrate the falsity of teleological conceptions; nor is to prove

the truth of contrary views.48 Rather, as we shall see in more detail shortly, the method of

the Appendix is to attack through ad hoc and dialectical means very specific false beliefs about

divine nature – primarily, as we’ve already seen, those held by Descartes and the late

medieval Aristotelians – beliefs that cloud our perceptions of the truths Spinoza had already

demonstrated in Part 1 proper.49 That is, the Appendix tries to dispel these “remaining

prejudices” by impugning very specific forms of error. Indeed, as we shall also see, none of

46 (*) Bennett, Study §51.1. 47 One may perhaps want to object at this point, and say that despite this ostensibly narrow

scope of Spinoza’s criticism in the Appendix, his criticism there in fact contains a comprehensive rejection of teleology, because in Spinoza’s philosophy all things are ultimately just one Substance, and are governed by universal laws. This kind of argument however suffers from the fact that in Spinoza’s system, God—being infinite, eternal, self-causing, etc—differs fundamentally from modes, so one cannot just simply infer the absence of finite teleology from the fact of denial of divine teleology in the Appendix. Rather one would have to first demonstrate that the absence of final causality is the kind of characteristic that belongs both to Substance and to modes. I intend my discussion of the conatus below to serve in the project of establishing this kind of link.

48 (*) Cf. e.g. Carriero’s complaint that “much of the Appendix to Part One is taken up with an unsympathetic portrayal of the genesis of the belief that God acts by will and ad hominem arguments against the medievals. These internal considerations are neither particularly original nor, so far as I can see, particularly effective” (“Spinoza’s views on necessity”, 56).

49 (*) Cf. Spinoza’s claim in 2p47s that despite the fact that all minds necessarily have an adequate idea of God’s essence, this idea is nonetheless obscured because it is combined with other false ideas about God.

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the claims Spinoza makes in the Appendix are “demonstrations” in the robust and strict

sense of deduction from true premises, or proofs of what holds necessarily of things sub

specie aeternitatis.

This specificity of Spinoza’s arguments in the Appendix becomes evident in

Spinoza’s summary there of his arguments against divine teleology, a part of which we have

already come across (I distinguish the four different argumentative strands for clarity):

Not many words will be required now to show that Nature has no end set before it [naturam finem nullum sibi praefixum habere], and that all final causes are nothing but human fictions [omnes causas finales nihil nisi humana esse figmenta]. For I believe I have already sufficiently established [satis constare] it, both [a] by the foundations and causes from which I have shown this prejudice to have had its origin, and also [b] by [1]p16, [1]p32c1 and c2, and all those [propositions] by which I have shown that all things proceed [procedere] by a certain eternal necessity [necessitate] of Nature, and with the [c] greatest perfection [summa perfectione]. I shall, however, add [addere] this: [d] this doctrine concerning the end turns nature completely upside down [de fine doctrinam naturam omnino evertere]. For what is really a cause, it considers as an effect, and conversely [id quod revera causa est, ut effectum considerat et contra] [NS: what is an effect it considers as a cause]. What is by nature prior [prius], it makes posterior [posterius]. And finally, [c] what is supreme and most perfect [supremum et perfectissimum], it makes imperfect [imperfectissimum]. (1App[II]; II/80).

Let’s take Spinoza’s four-pronged argumentative strategy against the belief in divine

ends one by one. In [b] Spinoza simply refers us to what he takes himself to have established

in Part 1, especially in 1p16 and 1p32c1-2.50 As Spinoza himself notes, these propositions

purportedly show that all things take place by virtue of “necessity.” But, of course, an

assertion of the reign of necessity does not suffice on its own to demonstrate that Nature

has no ends: no one familiar with Aristotelian philosophy could assert without further

argument that ends as such cannot participate in a necessitarian causal network. This failure

50 As has been pointed out by others, Spinoza’s choice of propositions here furnishes further evidence that the object of his concern in the Appendix is divine nature alone: this is because he chooses to refer only to the corollaries of 1p32, both of which mention God, but not to 1p32 itself, which is a perfectly general statement about the impossibility of free will.

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of an appeal to the rule of necessitarianism to make a valid case against ends has been widely

noted, with a mixture of perplexity and disparagement, by Spinoza’s commentators.51 But

what has not been recognized is that this is not a shortcoming on the part of Spinoza’s

argument, but rather a deliberate consequence of Spinoza’s strategy in the Appendix: as

noted above, the function of the Appendix is not demonstrate truths about God, but rather

to combat specific false beliefs that might obstruct our view of such (already demonstrated)

truths. In this spirit, in the passage just cited, the Appendix marshals demonstrations of the

rule of necessity as an ad hominem offensive against any residual conceptions of divine ends

on which these ends have been freely willed, as is case for example in both late Aristotelian

and Cartesian theology.52 In other words, the invocation of necessity is not supposed to root

out all teleological conceptions, not even all teleological conceptions of divine nature, but

only among the latter those that posit free action on ends, and so depict all natural things as

effects of God's undetermined volitions. This ad hominem argument from necessity plays,

as suits the Appendix, a pedagogical and supplementary role: it is meant to combat any

residual beliefs in a freely-willing creator that have not yet been uprooted by Spinoza’s

demonstrations in Part 1 that all things follow necessarily from God's essence as its propria.

But this merely ad hominem status of the argument is, to reiterate, not a weakness of

Spinoza’s argument. Indeed, to search for something more – a genuine demonstration of

the sort that we have encountered in Part 1 proper – is to fall prey to confusion about the

purpose and nature of the Appendix.

51 (*) See Bennett, Study §51; Curley, “On Bennett’s Spinoza,” 43; Garrett, “Teleology in Spinoza,” 315; Lin, “Teleology and Human Action”, 323.

52 This is also an attack on the God of the popular imagination, as Spinoza portrays him, the “ruler endowed with human freedom” (1App; II/29).

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Let’s look at another argument Spinoza enumerates in the above passage

summarizing his argumentative strategy in the Appendix, argument [a]. This is Spinoza’s

claim to have shown the origin of our “prejudice” that Nature has an “end set before it”.53

This is a reference to the quasi-mythical genealogical account we examined earlier of the

origin of such beliefs in our mistaken self-understanding as free-willing creatures. Here it is

once again clear that the Appendix fails to live up to its scholarly reputation as the text in

which Spinoza definitively addresses the topic of teleology in his metaphysics. For even if

we accepted Spinoza’s genealogical account as true (and Spinoza does not give us any reason

to believe that his account is true, or even to suppose that it is to be assessed in terms of

truth and falsity), how we arrive at a certain conception does not prove of course that such a

conception is in fact false. Perhaps indeed we believe that God acts on ends for the reasons

Spinoza enumerates in his genealogy; but perhaps accidentally we have also hit upon the

right conclusion. Of course for Spinoza as for Aristotle to understand something truly we

would have to understand why it is necessarily the case. To this extent, insofar as we believe

in divine ends only because we have generalized from our own self-understanding, we fall

short of genuine knowledge. But Spinoza’s genealogical account does not show that we hold

the wrong conclusion, and that God does not in fact act on ends. What this account can

achieve, to the extent that we are persuaded by Spinoza’s suggestion that such a conclusion

is no more than an ungrounded extrapolation from our own case, is to shake our conviction

53 Note that on Spinoza’s account there doesn’t seem to be any problem with human minds attaining to non-teleological causal explanations in principle: it is clear for Spinoza that given the finitude of our bodies, and so the finitude of the number of distinct empirical ideas we can have, we cannot know the entirety of any particular causal chain; that is, for any particular experience, we may not be able to distinguish clearly all the causes involved. However, this does not mean that we are necessarily confined to teleological explanations. For even in case of such ignorance, we can still state that 1) we do not know all the particular causes, but 2) we know in principle that our explanation cannot involve final causes.

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that this is the right conclusion. And this is, as noted earlier, precisely the function of the

Appendix: to undermine false beliefs.

There is another reason why Spinoza’s second declared argument against divine

teleology (i.e., [a]) must be understood as (intentionally) falling far short of the demonstrative

standards we may have expected from an author notorious for his austere deductions more

geometrico. I want to draw our attention to another element of the genealogical story that

Spinoza calls upon in the above summary of his case against divine ends. I have in mind the

following disclaimer, which precedes the genetic account:

Of course this is not the place to deduce these things from the nature of the human mind [Verum haec ab humanae mentis natura deducere non est hujus loci]. It will be sufficient here if I take as a foundation what everyone must acknowledge [satis hic erit si pro fundamento id capiam quod apud omnes debet esse in confesso]: that all men are born ignorant of the causes of things, and that they all want to seek their own advantage, and are conscious [conscii] of this appetite (1App[1]; II/78).

Spinoza’s genetic account of the origins of our teleological “prejudice” thus begins with what

Spinoza himself describes, as we just saw, as an inadequate foundation. For a proper

“deduction” of the nature and causes of this prejudice would require demonstration from

true premises, premises that presumably would involve a grasp of the nature of human

cognition, and in particular of the reasons why we tend to be ignorant of causes. But such

premises will only be furnished by Part 2. So here, at the end of Part 1, in place of such

adequate ideas of the properties of the human mind, Spinoza opts to use instead

generalizations that he may assume some of his readers to share, or at least to find

unobjectionable – generalizations about what people as a rule are conscious of, what they

want, how much they know. Such generalizations will “suffice”, as Spinoza puts it, for the

purpose of the Appendix, which is to undermine, inter alia by means of the genealogical

story that follows, our residual belief in a free-willing God. But of course, according to

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Spinoza’s own theory of knowledge, such premises clearly will not count as genuine, or

“adequate”, knowledge.

In short, what Spinoza is offering us here, hedged by all these caveats, is once again

not a proper demonstration but a dialectical argument, continuing the Aristotelian tradition of

employing dialectically “the views of fairly reflective people after some reflection”.54 This

insight is important for understanding Spinoza’s claims about teleology in the appendix, but

it is also perhaps worth pausing here briefly to make a more general point. For the

dominant image of Spinoza is that of a ruthlessly systematic philosopher, emulating Euclid.

But this image merely obscures Spinoza’s much richer actual argumentative strategy in the

Ethics, Spinoza’s actual rhetorical and formal versatility. Mos geometricus, to which Spinoza

refers to in the title of his work, is indeed a form binding on the Ethics generally, but it is not

instantiated by every single passage in that work. That is, not all statements in the Ethics

have the same relationship to truth as the propositions and proofs forming part of Spinoza’s

deductive demonstrations: not all of them can be considered true when considered apart

from their role and place in the text. This I believe supplies a much-needed corrective to our

usual conception of Spinoza’s method.55

Let’s return to our discussion of the Appendix in particular. As we just saw, the

second argumentative strand Spinoza singles out also fails – this time by virtue of its merely

54 The phrase is Terence Irwin’s, used to describe the nature of Aristotelian dialectical premises.

55 In general, Spinoza should perhaps be said to belong to the long tradition of philosophers who, when constructing a formal deductive system find it necessary to give elucidations of the meanings of the terms of that system, which take the form of bringing the reader to see certain confusions embodied in their ordinary understanding (cf. e.g. Frege’s “On Concept and Object”).

Note that since the stated reason why Spinoza pursues the dialectical strategy in the first Appendix is that he has not yet demonstrated the nature of the mind, the further in we find ourselves in the Ethics the smaller the probability that there will be some foundation needed for an argument that has not been yet adequately elucidated.

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dialectical nature, one that Spinoza himself clearly foregrounds – to meet strict

demonstrative standards, and to make a completely general case against teleological

conceptions of God. And if one expects from the Appendix “original” and “effective”

demonstrations of the falsehood of teleology, as some scholars do,56 one will find the force

of the next argument, [d], similarly disappointing. To recall, [d] is the group of claims that

teleology turns Nature “upside down”, swapping “effects” for “causes”, exchanging what is

“prior” for what is “posterior”. Spinoza describes these wrongs as “manifest through

themselves [per se manifesta]” (1App[II]; II/80). But, once again, if his argument is supposed

to prove that teleological conceptions of Nature are misguided, it is clearly question-begging:

for it to be self-evident that the belief “Nature has ends before it” inverts the true causal

order, as well as the true ontological and conceptual hierarchy of “priority”, obviously

presumes that we already agree with Spinoza that an end can only be a “posterior” effect.

This patent weakness of Spinoza’s argument is to my mind a sufficient reason to doubt that

Spinoza intended this argument to demonstrate that there are indeed no ends in Nature. (As

Spinoza himself puts it, he is only “adding” something here.) Instead, I suggest that it would

be closer to the truth to say that Spinoza’s objective was to emphasize how profound is the

error we are making when we succumb to a teleological worldview: it completely upends the

order of Nature and (since to know something is to know its cause) the order of knowledge.

Perhaps Spinoza’s hope was that this idea of turning Nature upside down might be just

impressive enough rhetorically to pierce through the fog of prejudices covering up the true

idea of God, an idea Spinoza thinks we all necessarily have (2p47). But whatever may have

56 (*) This is Carriero’s complaint that “much of the Appendix to Part One is taken up with an unsympathetic portrayal of the genesis of the belief that God acts by will and ad hominem arguments against the medievals. These internal considerations are neither particularly original nor, so far as I can see, particularly effective” (“Spinoza’s views on necessity”, 56).

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been Spinoza’s expectations in conjuring up this image, what is clear is that we are once

again far from a genuine argument against teleology here. But this, as I have said again and

again, is exactly what we should expect from the Appendix.

The fourth and last line of attack that Spinoza takes up in the Appendix – [c] –

consists in what is ultimately a very similar line of argument: it is the assertion that a

teleological conception of God is inconsistent with how “perfection” is distributed in

Nature. Like the arguments in [d], it is clearly question-begging if viewed as an attempt to

demonstrate the falsehood of teleological conceptions. Spinoza explains such conceptions

render “imperfect” “what is supreme and most perfect” because

as has been established in [1p]21-23, that effect is most perfect [perfectissimus] which is produced immediately by God [a Deo immediate producitur], and the more something requires intermediate causes to produce it [pluribus causis intermediis indiget ut producatur], the more imperfect [imperfectius] it is. But if the things which have been produced immediately by God had been made so that God would achieve his end, then the last things, for the sake of which the first would have been made, would be the most excellent of all [si res quae immediate a Deo productae sunt, ea de causa factae essent ut Deus finem assequeretur suum, tum necessario ultimae quarum de causa priores factae sunt, omnium praestantissimae essent.]. (1App[II]; II/80)

A proponent of a teleological metaphysics would surely object here that this kind of

argument once again presumes that God’s ends are properly described as “last” or least

“immediate”. She might agree that the realization of these ends might indeed be “last” in the

temporal order of things, but her claim is precisely that it is such ends that are the most

immediate consequences of God’s nature. Hence it they that must described as “first” in the

order of creation and hence the most “perfect”.57

57 We reach the same conclusion if we consider Spinoza’s invocation of 1p21-23 in the above passage (1App[II]; II/80). These three propositions assert that all things produced immediately through God’s “absolute” (i.e. unmodified) nature, or are produced through infinite and eternal modifications of such a nature, are themselves infinite and eternal. Spinoza’s claim in the passage is that these propositions show that the degree of metaphysical “perfection” decreases with the growing degree of mediation of production (such that, we may infer, mediate infinite modes are

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In short, despite the reputation of the Appendix as the most important text on

teleology in Spinoza’s entire corpus, we do not find anywhere in it any genuine and general

demonstrations of the falsehood of teleological conceptions, even if we narrow the scope

of our inquiry to arguments pertaining to divine teleology alone, rather than to teleology in

general. As I’ve tried to show in this section, this Appendix’s reputation is not only

undeserved on the basis of what its text actual contains, but also fails to capture the nature

of Spinoza’s undertaking there. For, to repeat, rather than laying out Spinoza’s primary and

self-sufficient philosophical case against teleology, the Appendix instead furnishes material

that is foremost pedagogical in intent and supplementary in nature: through ad hominem

and dialectical arguments, it attempts to poke holes in determinate false beliefs that his

readers may have inherited from Aristotelian metaphysics and theology and which obstruct

their perception of already demonstrated truths about divine nature.

In this section I have tried primarily to substantiate this negative claim about the

significance of the first Appendix for Spinoza’s demonstration, in the strict sense of this term,

of the falsity of teleological conceptions of Nature. The obvious question this reading of

the Appendix raises is, where does then Spinoza demonstrate the falsity of such conceptions?

The fact that in the Appendix Spinoza attacks teleological “prejudices” which threaten to

occlude already demonstrated truths implies that also the falsity of teleology has already

been proven, and thus that this demonstration takes place already in the Part 1 proper. And

I believe that we must regard Spinoza’s adoption of his formal-causal model of causation –

less perfect than immediate infinite modes), although it would appear that the degree of mediation has no strict correlation with eternity or infinity, since both infinite modes are eternal and infinite, although they differ in degrees of mediation (although clearly if we assume that finite modes exist, they are neither eternal nor infinite but both less perfect and most mediated). But again it’s not clear why it would not be open to the advocate of teleology to say that God’s ends are immediately produced and hence most perfect.

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which, as we saw in the previous Chapter, is fairly explicitly applied to God in 1p16 for

example – as his proof of the falsity of teleology. For, as we shall see in Part B of this

Chapter, according to the mathematical and logical tradition of Spinoza’s time, this type of

causality excludes all final causes. In other words, in my view, Spinoza’s principal argument

against teleology is that there are no ends in Nature because the causality of all things occurs

on the model of a formal cause: ‘what is’ is an essence (the essence of God) from which all

things necessarily follow, as from something prior.

§3. The fate of human ends in the Appendix

Having sketched the general nature of Spinoza’s undertaking in the first Appendix in

the previous section, in this section I want to examine more specifically whether, as most

scholars allege, the Appendix offers grounds for the conclusion that Spinoza exempts at least

human ends, and perhaps all finite ends, from his criticism of teleology. I will conclude that

such readings are without solid foundation. For the Appendix, as we shall see in what

follows, does not in fact allow us to draw the positive conclusion that Spinoza accepts the

existence of human ends, or creaturely ends generally. Proponents of a weaker reading of

Spinoza’s criticism of teleology who take comfort in Spinoza’s claims in the first Appendix

fail to make their case because they overlook the dialectical nature of passages that may

suggest such a reading and erroneously conclude that Spinoza’s restriction of the scope of

his criticism of ends in the Appendix to divine ends constitutes evidence that his criticism of

ends in his metaphysics in general is likewise so restricted. As we saw in the previous

section, a dialectical style of argumentation and restricted scope are both systematic and

intentional features of this portion of the Ethics, features that follow from its pedagogical and

supplementary function within the treatise.

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There are three specific passages in the Appendix – all of which we have already

encountered – that serve as principal ammunition for commentators wishing to portray

Spinoza as a thinker who endorses teleology in the realm of creaturely action. In what

follows I will go through each of these passages, in order to show why none of them

substantiate the weaker reading of Spinoza’s criticism of final causes.

The first of these passages is Spinoza’s avowal that

All the prejudices [Spinoza] here undertake[s] to expose depend on this one: that men commonly suppose that all natural things act, as men do, on account of an end [quoniam omnia quae hic indicare suscipio praejudicia pendent ab hoc uno quod scilicet communiter supponant homines omnes res naturales ut ipsos propter finem agere]; indeed, they maintain as certain that God himself directs all things to some certain end (1App; II/77; my ital)

Scholars such as Garrett and Curley read the above passage as a declaration that what

Spinoza intends to criticize in the Appendix is merely the unwarranted anthropomorphizing

generalization from a properly human mode of action, but that the teleological nature of the

latter remains unquestioned by Spinoza.58

The second Appendix passage highlighted by advocates of the weaker reading of

Spinoza’s criticism of final causes is Spinoza’s declaration that “men act always on account

of an end, viz. on account of their advantage, which they want [Homines omnia propter finem

agere videlicet propter utile quod appetunt]” (1App[I]; II/78). The verdict of the majority of

58 (*) Cf. Garrett: “The foundation and causes [Spinoza] cites for this prejudice do not call into question whether humans act for ends. Instead, they simply explain—as an overhasty extrapolation by human beings from their own case—the common opinion that God shares this mode of activity with them”; Spinoza wants to “contrast” the case of God, who is without ends, “with the case of human beings (“Teleology in Spinoza”, 316).

Cf. Curley: “Spinoza does not deny purposive action to man: the prejudice Spinoza is exploring…is precisely the attribution to natural things of a form of activity characteristic of men, viz. action for the sake of an end”. (“On Bennett’s Spinoza” 41; orig. ital.).

Cf. also Manning: in the Appendix, Spinoza asserts that “people do indeed act for an end, and do not merely suppose that they do. …Spinoza evidently thinks that this kind of acting for ends [i.e. by human beings] is saliently different from the kind of final causation he rejects.” (“Spinoza, Thoughtful Teleology”, 182).

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commentators is that this statement unambiguously imputes to human beings actions that

are teleological in nature.59 Even Bennett, despite his firm conviction that Spinoza intends the

Appendix to convey a comprehensive rejection of all teleology, when faced with such

passages complains of Spinoza’s inconsistency and his “concessions” to a teleological

viewpoint.60

The third and final passage marshaled as evidence of Spinoza’s restriction of his

criticism of ends is as follows: “Not many words will be now required to show that Nature

has no end set before it, and that all final causes are nothing but human fictions [Ut jam autem

ostendam naturam finem nullum sibi praefixum habere et omnes causas finales nihil nisi humana esse

figmenta, non opus est multis]” (1App; II/80). Here the evidence for the weaker reading of

Spinoza’s criticism is less obvious than in the first two cases, but the claim is that the phrase

“all final causes” is meant merely to elaborate on the first clause, and thus refer only to ends

that God might have, without implying that all final causes in general, even those finite

modes may have, are mere “fictions”.61

As I already indicated, I believe that such – now prevalent – readings of the three

passages in question are incorrect, however plausible they might seem at first glance. As we

shall now see, the passages in fact furnish no evidence that Spinoza accepts the legitimacy of

finite teleology in his metaphysics, as is commonly claimed. Recognizing this requires us

however to have correctly understood the nature, function and method of the Appendix in

general, as only this will make possible a correct interpretation of the particular arguments

from which these three passages have been extracted. After the patent systematicity of the

59 (*) Cf. e.g. Curley, “On Bennett’s Spinoza”, 40-2. 60 (*) See Study, §51.1. 61 (*) Curley, “On Bennett’s Spinoza”, 40; Garrett, “Teleology in Spinoza”, 314; Della Rocca,

“Spinoza metaphysical psychology”, 252.

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deductions of Part 1 proper, the Appendix may at first glance seem simply disorderly,

repetitive, and devoid of any underlying method. But such an assumption only obscures the

determinate structure and specific objectives of Spinoza’s arguments there, which need to be

taken into account if we wish to grasp the points these arguments are in fact making.

Now, as we saw in the previous section, the primary function of the first Appendix –

one both explicitly announced by Spinoza and borne out by his argumentative strategies

there – is to defuse remaining prejudices about God’s nature. But once we recognize this

general feature of the Appendix, we must tailor accordingly our expectations of what we will

find in it. In particular, we must acknowledge that the Appendix may not allow us to draw

any definitive and positive conclusions about non-divine teleology; that Spinoza may not feel

compelled to argue there explicitly against any misconceptions we still might harbor a

propos of the causality of modes; and finally, that the absence of criticism of non-divine

ends likewise may have not been necessarily intended to signal any positive metaphysical

truths.

If, keeping these general interpretative guidelines in mind, we look again at the three

passages on the table, the conclusions we will reach about what we are entitled to infer from

them will be quite different from those typically drawn. For example, we can immediately

see that very little can be inferred from the fact that the third passage is indeed (pace

Bennett62) most plausibly read as characterizing only divine ends as “fictitious”. This

narrower construal of this passage is most likely correct but not because Spinoza’s

metaphysics in fact allows for teleology in the realm of modes, as some scholars insist, but

rather because the first Appendix has the circumscribed task of correcting prejudices about

62 (*) Study, §51.1.

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divine nature, without setting for itself the task of conveying the whole truth about the

nature of causality in general.63

Similarly, in the case of the first passage – according to which all the prejudices

Spinoza undertakes to expose depend on our unwarranted extrapolation from our own self-

understanding as purposive beings – for the pedagogical and narrow purposes of Spinoza’s

task in the Appendix it suffices to criticize only this overly hasty generalization of our self-

understanding. Since Spinoza’s objective in the Appendix is to undermine lingering false

beliefs about divine nature, to accomplish this Spinoza need not also show that our

teleological self-understanding is equally erroneous. Instead, he can tactically use this false

self-understanding – one that his readers (clearly, even today), can be relied on to share – to

render them suspicious about their own belief in God's purposiveness by instilling in their

minds doubt about its grounds: perhaps indeed the only reason people cling to this belief is

that their own purposiveness is the only kind of explanation available to them, and so one

that they extend to all other things. This is precisely the modus operandi of dialectical

arguments: to begin from the shared assumptions of “fairly reflective” individuals (that is, of

individuals who do wonder about the causes of things, and do wish to explain), even if such

assumptions are not quite true.

The ostensibly teleological appearance of the second passage can be explained away

in the same way, and for the same reasons.64 But in the case of this passage there is in

63 This is not to rule out the possibility that the ambiguity of the extension of the phrase “all final causes” may have been intentional on Spinoza’s part: for on my reading he does also hold that all final causes without exception, and not just divine ones, are pure fictions.

64 The same applies to another Appendix passage which to my knowledge rather curiously has been omitted by commentators partial to the weak reading of Spinoza’s criticism of ends: “nothing remains for [men] but to turn toward themselves, and reflect on the ends by which they are usually determined to do such things [nihil iis restat nisi ut ad semet se convertant et ad fines a quibus ipsi ad similia determinari solent, reflectant]” (1App). Again we have here a criticism that targets only the

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addition a specific further reason why its proclamation that “men act always on account of

an end” fails to demonstrate that Spinoza spares human ends from criticism. This reason

has to do with the context of this statement. For what scholars who read it as proof of

Spinoza’s endorsement of human teleology fail to notice is that this assertion appears in the

midst of a dialectical argument (one we already discussed briefly in the previous section), one

preceded by the caveat that “this is not the place to deduce these things from the nature of

the human mind”. As noted earlier, this opening remark is a warning to Spinoza’s readers

that what follows – including the critical claim that “men commonly suppose that all natural

things act as men do, on account of an end” – is not a proper demonstration but instead a

dialectical argument conditional on generalizations that Spinoza may assume his readers to

share. Given the dialectical nature of the argument, we cannot read statements extracted

from it – including the claim that “men act always on account of an end” – as we would read

one of Spinoza’s official propositions or their accompanying proofs – that is, as a

straightforwardly rationally demonstrable true statement, without taking into account the

particular pedagogical and tactical function it may have.

The dialectical nature of Spinoza’s argument is a general reason why we should

exercise caution when drawing any conclusions on the basis of Spinoza’s assertion, in the

course of this argument, that “men act always on account of an end”. But the need for such

interpretative caution is made even clearer by the fact that this assertion belongs to a

sequence of inferences drawn by Spinoza from the premise that we are “ignorant” of the

causes of things. It is from this assumption of ignorance that he then deduces “first, that

men think themselves free” and “second” precisely the statement in question, namely “that

men act always on account of an end”. That is, our self-understanding as beings “acting on

anthropomorphizing generalization of a teleological self-conception.

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ends” is offered by Spinoza as a consequence of our ignorance of our own causal reality, a

result on par with the obviously fallacious conclusion that we are not determined by any

causes. And I do not think that any reader of the Ethics, whether partial to a robust or a

weak reading of Spinoza’s criticism of teleology, would want to claim that Spinoza himself

holds that we are “free” in the sense of lacking causal determination. The claim “men act

always on account of an end” is thus a description of the kind of false self-consciousness

those who believe themselves to be causally undetermined have of themselves when acting.

But it does not express Spinoza’s own considered view of the causal nature of human

action.65

65 It is rather unfortunate that some proponents of the view that Spinoza embraces human teleology, when quoting as evidence for their claims these passages from the Appendix, omit in their quotation either Spinoza’s explicit warning that he is not providing here a proper demonstration, or his reference to human “ignorance”, the fact that he explicitly uses the fact of this ignorance as a premise for his conclusions about human action, or the fact that the first inference he makes from this premise is that “men think themselves free”, and only then he says that “men always act on an end”. As a result of these omissions, the passage can be made to look like a straightforward demonstration by Spinoza, apparently on the basis of some universal truth, that human beings do indeed act on ends.

Garrett for example when quoting the sentence omits “It follows, secondly, that” and starts the quote with the word “Men” using a capital letter (“Men act always on account of an end”) as if this “Men” were the beginning of the sentence, thus misleadingly, I think, ignoring that fact that Spinoza’s claim has a premise that as I argue changes its status and sense (“Teleology in Spinoza”, 313).

But the most extreme example of this kind of targeted omission is Manning’s citation of the passage in the following way, skipping all the crossed out phrases:

Of course this is not the place to deduce these things from the nature of the human

mind. It will be sufficient here if I take as a foundation what everyone must acknowledge: that all men are born ignorant of the causes of things, and that they all want to seek their own advantage, and are conscious of this appetite. From these [assumptions] it follows, first, that men think themselves free, because they are conscious of their volitions and their appetite, and do not think, even in their dreams, of the causes by which they are disposed to wanting and willing, because they are ignorant of [those causes]. It follows, secondly, that men act always on account of an end, viz. on account of their advantage, which they want (183). The omissions are rather ironic since Manning takes this particular passage to suggest that

according to Spinoza “people do indeed act for an end, and do not merely suppose that they do” (ibid, my ital.). In my view, it’s exactly the other way around.

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In short, I disagree with commentators like Curley and Garrett who see in the three

passages cited here proof that Spinoza himself champions the existence of finite ends, and

upholds the objective validity of teleological explanations in the case of human beings. As

we have seen, the first Appendix on its own leaves the issue of non-divine teleology simply

undetermined. For Spinoza’s demonstration of what causality does govern the existence of

modes we will have to wait until Part 3 of the Ethics and in particular until Spinoza elaborates

there his conatus doctrine, which – as we shall see in more detail in Part B below – will

reaffirm the rule of formal causality at the level of finite res. This will allow Spinoza to claim

that what holds true of God is true also of ourselves: neither we, nor God, act in view of

ends.

It is to this positive account of the nature of non-divine causality, as elaborated in

Spinoza’s conatus doctrine, that I now turn.

PART B. SPINOZA’S CONATUS DOCTRINE

§4. Introduction

Thus far I have shown that, contrary to the contemporary scholarly consensus, the

first Appendix of the Ethics furnishes no conclusive evidence that Spinoza accepts any sort

of finite teleology. In this second Part of the Chapter, I want to address the other main

argument of the teleological camp – Spinoza’s so-called ‘conatus doctrine’.

The central claim of this doctrine is that “Each thing, as far as it is in itself, strives to

persevere in its being [Unaquaeque res quantum in se est, in suo esse perseverare conatur]” (3p6; transl.

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alt.66). Striving is a principle central to Spinoza’s causal metaphysics of finite things, because,

as we shall see later, it states the basic causal principle according to which any finite affection

will be produced in Nature: any existing finite property or affection will be a product of

striving, either the striving of a single finite modes (in cases of “adequate” causation), or of

several finite modes together (in cases of partial causation). But the conatus doctrine asserts

a principle central not just to Spinoza’s metaphysics, but also to his moral philosophy. This

is because the “conatus” is Spinoza’s preferred label for what other thinkers refer to as “will

[voluntas]” and “desire [cupiditas]” (3p9s; II/147). As noted earlier, according to the dominant

contemporary interpretations of this doctrine, it amounts to Spinoza’s assertion of a

fundamental teleological principle at the heart of Spinoza’s metaphysics of finite things.

Don Garrett, for instance, goes so far as to claim that the doctrine implies Spinoza’s

“acceptance of teleology for all singular things”, not just human beings, with the result that

for Spinoza the “phenomenon of action for ends [is] pervasive throughout nature”.67 Even

Bennett, who now has the rather lonesome privilege of defending the thesis that at least

Spinoza’s initial intention was to offer the conatus as a non-teleological principle, despairs in

66 Transl. note. Curley’s standard translation renders in se est as “by its own power”. Although this does not assert anything false (since any thing does indeed strive on account of its own essence alone, i.e., on account of its own “power”), strays far from the Latin original and in doing so obscures the connection between the conatus doctrine and the definition of substance as what “is in itself”. (Cf. Garrett, “Spinoza’s Conatus Argument”, and Della Rocca, Spinoza, for also this more literal translation preference.)

The phrase “as far as it in itself” refers to the degree something is in itself, i.e. not acted on by outside causes, but acting because of its own essence, and independently of all other causes.

67 (*) “Teleology in Spinoza”, 313, 314. For Garrett, the sheer number of claims in which Spinoza refers to striving constitutes evidence that Spinoza is “a committed teleologist” (ibid, 314). He concludes that “although Spinoza maintains a certain rhetorical distance from the Aristotelian vocabulary of final causes, he fully and consistently accepts the legitimacy of many teleological explanations”, with the result that “it isn’t Leibniz but Spinoza who holds the position on teleology and teleological explanation nearest to that of Aristotle” (ibid, 311-312). (Also cf. Garrett’s “Spinoza’s Conatus Argument”: “Because [Spinoza] attributes this striving toward self-preservation to all organic and nonorganic things alike, it provides his theory of natural science with a source of teleological explanation” [127].)

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that work that shortly after the introduction of the doctrine, Spinoza makes indefensible, for

flagrantly teleological, use of it.68

In what follows I want to show that all such teleological interpretations of Spinoza’s

conatus doctrine are inadequate, and that as a consequence also this second type of

argument for a weaker construal of Spinoza’s criticism of final causes fails to make its case,

just as the arguments on the basis of the first Appendix have failed.69 But, as already noted,

in addition to this negative and critical objective, in this Part I will also propose a new

interpretation of the conatus as a basic building block of Spinoza’s metaphysics in general: in

addition to showing that, contrary to what most scholars today allege, the causality of

striving does not involve any ends, I will argue that the conatus doctrine amounts to a

restatement of Spinoza’s universal formal-causal model, and that this doctrine must therefore be

regarded as expressing a perfectly general, non-teleological causal principle, applicable to modes

and substance alike.

I will develop this new interpretation of Spinoza’s conatus doctrine on the basis of a

neglected but to my mind quite critical feature of it, namely Spinoza’s identification of

68 (*) Bennett writes that despite Spinoza’s initial efforts to make striving non-teleological, the doctrine ends up being a “genuine teleology (a pull)” (Study, ch. 10, introduction; cf. ibid, §57.4-5).

69 Another way to argue against at least some teleological interpretations of Spinoza’s philosophy is to point to Spinoza’s rejection of unactualized possibles. Although not all teleologies of course assume a non-deterministic Nature, Garrett for example writes – with the intention of representing to us “how Spinoza might be thinking” – that “teleological functioning of an ‘end’ or ‘final cause’ arguably requires at least that something be selected from alternatives in a way that essentially involves some kind of goodness or fitness of its likely or presumptive consequences relative to those of other alternatives…Relative to the power of the surrounding objects, therefore, a variety of alternative actions are possible…we can appeal to a specified action's (likely or presumptive) beneficial consequences to explain why the singular thing ‘selected’ that course of action over the alternatives that were equally possible…” (“Teleology in Spinoza”, 316; orig. ital.). But given Spinoza’s necessitarianism, and his explicit reduction of the “possible” to a mere defect in our knowledge, this statement of Garrett’s seems to me to be rather a reductio ad absurdum of Garett’s teleological construal of the conatus, since it appears to entail imputing to Spinoza at the level of his metaphysics an endorsement of alternative possibilities. But perhaps Garrett’s intention here is merely to describe “how Spinoza might be thinking” about how we inadequately represent to ourselves the nature of our actions.

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“striving” with the “actual essence [essentia actuosa]” of each thing (3p7). As we shall see in

§5, Spinoza’s identification of striving with “essence” specifically has significant

repercussions for how we understand the causal structure of striving. For the way Spinoza

conceives of the causal nature of essences dictates that the causality of striving consists in

the necessary following of properties from an essence, and so will be non-teleological in

nature. In §6, I will argue that this conclusion that the metaphysics of striving in no way

involves final causes is further supported by the fact that finite striving is both derived from,

and perfectly mirrors, the causality that Spinoza attributes to the uncontroversially non-

teleological divine causal power. Next (in §7), I develop further the point that the basic

causal schema of striving is present more widely in Spinoza’s philosophy: it is also the causal

relation that in Spinoza’s view characterizes mathematical relations. Given the 17th century

understanding of mathematical causality, this reinforces the conclusion that the conatus

cannot be a teleological phenomenon, and furthermore confirms that “striving” is simply

another name Spinoza gives to formal causality. In §8, I will conclude that both textual and

conceptual considerations, and especially the causal ‘isomorphism’ of striving and divine

causality, overwhelmingly point to the conclusion (whose possibility has been almost entirely

neglected by scholars) that for Spinoza God too is a “thing” that strives – in other words,

that Spinoza is committed to the existence of a divine conatus. In the final section (§9), I

will show that the other key concept involved in Spinoza's identification of the conatus with

the “actual essence” of a thing, namely “actuality” (again, a concept rather neglected by

Spinoza’s readers) in no way undermines the non-teleological construal of the conatus

doctrine I offer; nor does it exclude God from the scope of the doctrine.

However, before moving on to these arguments, however, I want to make a simple

but nonetheless I think important point about the implications of Spinoza’s terminology in the

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context of his conatus doctrine. Many scholars seem to be greatly swayed by the impression

of end-directedness conveyed by the standard English translation of Spinoza’s Latin conatus

as “striving”. As a consequence, many take Spinoza’s statements about striving to be self-

evidently teleological in nature.70 This conviction then dictates how such scholars construe the

meaning of the conatus doctrine itself, and how they reconstruct Spinoza’s arguments for it.

Yet the assumption that Spinoza’s talk about striving discloses an implicit commitment to

ends simply does not stand up to scrutiny, once we return this philosophical idiom to its

proper historical context. For there is overwhelming evidence that the majority of Early

Modern thinkers, including those exerted great influence on Spinoza, understood the verb

conari, its derivatives and cognates, in a non-teleological sense, such as is expressed by the law

of inertia in 17th century physics.71 This non-teleological sense is indisputably the dominant

sense of notion of “striving” and “perseverance” in Early Modern philosophy. Probably the

most pertinent example of this is the use by Descartes – Spinoza’s most important

intellectual influence – of the very same vocabulary that Spinoza employs in the Ethics to

describe striving in the course of purely mechanistic analyses in his physics, so within a

domain from which he famously and explicitly banishes the consideration of final causes.

Indeed, Descartes employs not just terms like conari and conatus, but also the phrase “quantum

in se est”,72 which plays a central role in Spinoza’s conatus doctrine (and is incidentally also

70 (*) See e.g. Bennett, Study §57.5 (Bennett himself prefers to translate conatus by “trying to”); or Manning, “Spinoza, Thoughtful Teleology”, 182, 185. Manning cites e.g. 3p28 (“We strive to further the occurrence of whatever we imagine will lead to joy …”) as a “clear endorsement of the view that human behaviors can properly be understood as teleological—as goal-directed, guided by the idea of future states that are thought conducive to joy as a final end” (“Spinoza, Thoughtful Teleology”, 182; my ital.)

71 Leibnizian “appetites” would be perhaps the most salient exception to this trend. 72 (*) Descartes writes e.g., “Each and every thing, insofar as it is simple and undivided,

always remains, insofar as it can [quantum in se est], in the same state, nor is it ever changed [mutari] except by external causes. Thus, if a particular piece of matter is square, we can be sure without

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regarded by interpreters to posses patent teleological significance73). For instance, in the

Principia, when explaining how “striving after motion [conatus ad motum]…should be

understood”, Descartes stresses that

When I say that the globules of the second element ‘strive’ [conari] to move away from the centers around which they revolve…I mean merely that they are positioned and pushed into motion in such a way that they will in fact [revera] travel in that direction, unless they are prevented [impediantur] by some other cause [alia causa]. (Pr III a56; AT VIIIA 108).74

But Descartes is not the only one to have used the verb conari, its derivatives, the notion of

“persevering”, as well as the phrase “quantum in se est”, all central to Spinoza’s own account

of “striving”, in a manifestly non-teleological sense. Newton75 and Hobbes76 for example

also both employ these notions in their own accounts of the phenomenon of inertia in

physics. Indeed, the idea of a thing persevering in the same state has a sense close to the

more ado, that it will remain square for ever, unless something coming from outside changes its shape. …Hence we must conclude that what is in motion always, so far as it can [quantum in se est], continues to move.” (Pr II 37); cf. also his second law of motion, which asserts that bodies moving in a circle recede from the center of their motion “insofar as they can” (Pr III 55).

73 (*) See e.g. Bennett, Study, §57.5. 74 (*) Cf. Spinoza’s gloss of the principle of inertia in DPP: each thing “insofar as it is simple and undivided, and considered in itself alone [quantenus simplex et indivisa est, et in se sola conideratur], always perseveres in the same state as far as it can” (DPP 2p14; I/201).

There are of course important dissimilarities between Descartes’s and Spinoza’s concepts of the conatus; however, I cannot pursue this in detail in this Chapter.

75 (*) Cf. e.g. the third definition of Newton’s Principia, which describes an “innate force [vis insita] of matter” as “a power of resisting [potentia resistendi], by which every body, as much as in it lies [quantum in se est], perseveres in its present state [perseverat in statu suo]”.

76 (*) Cf. e.g. “whatever is moved will persevere in the same speed and way, as long as it is not impeded by motion in the opposite direction” (Hobbes, OP I, 180). Note that despite unequivocally rejecting final causes, Hobbes still speaks of the endeavor as being “fromward” and “toward”, so preserves a notion of directedness without introducing ends. Cf. eg: “This endeavor, when it is toward something that causes it, is called APPETITE or DESIRE. And when the endeavor is fromward something, it is generally called AVERSION” (Lev. ch. 6, cf. D.H. ch. 11, 1). However, it should be noted that Hobbesian “endeavour” is not just a tendency of motion (as with Descartes and Spinoza), but an actual motion, albeit one occurring over an infinitesimal period of time (cf. e.g. English Works, I, 206, and “Maxims necessary for those, that from that sight of an Effect, shall endeavor to assign its Natural Cause”, Classified Papers of the Royal Society, cited in Jesseph, “Hobbes and the method of natural science”, 90-1. An adequate analysis of Hobbes’s notion of endeavor is however beyond the scope of this Chapter.

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Modern non-teleological principle of inertia77 already in the ancient texts of Lucretius and

Plutarch.78 So the assumption of many contemporary scholars that Spinoza’s doctrine

manifestly has a teleological sense is not only not self-evident, but goes against virtually the

entire history of the notion of “persevering” and “striving”.

So much for Spinoza’s terminology and what it does not imply. Let’s turn to the

meaning of the doctrine itself.

§5. Spinoza’s causal conception of “essence”

As noted earlier, I will pursue my inquiry into the nature of Spinoza’s notion of the

conatus by focusing on a rather neglected feature of the doctrine, namely Spinoza’s

identification of the conatus with the “actual essence” of a thing. For the sake of clarity of

exposition, I will bracket, until section §9, Spinoza’s qualification of the essence in question

77 I do not wish to suggest that Spinoza’s conatus doctrine is his principle of inertia: Spinoza asserts a version of the latter principle – as something “known through itself [per se notum]” – in his Physical Digression. He writes, “a body in motion moves until it is determined by another body to rest; and that a body at rest also remains at rest until it is determined to motion by another [corpus motum tamdiu moveri donec ab alio corpore ad quiescendum determinetur et corpus quiescens tamdiu etiam quiescere donec ab alio ad motum determinetur]” (2L3c; II/98). Spinoza’s version of this principle is, as can be seen, relatively narrow, since it applies only to movement and rest, whereas Descartes for example asserts more broadly that inertia governs the “states” of things, such as shape (see Pr II 37). This is however the consequence of Spinoza’s view that under the attribute of Extension things are ultimately nothing but movement and rest (see 2L1; II/97). However, according to Spinoza’s parallelism doctrine, there will be corresponding principles in every attribute. In this sense his version of the principle of inertia is in fact very broad.

78 Newton and Descartes both were influenced by Lucretius. The phrase quantum in se est appears four times in De Rerum Natura (hereafter DRN), where it refers to the natural tendency of bodies considered apart from external causes (Lucretius writes, e.g. “…all things of weight, as far as in them lies, are borne downwards. … all these things, as far as in them lies, are borne downwards through the empty void” [DRN II, 188-248]) Quoting from DRN, Newton writes in De Gravitatione that the “first law [legem primam]” (i.e. law of inertia) was known to the ancients “who attributed to atoms in an infinite vacuum a motion which was rectilinear…and perpetual because of the lack of resistance”, and that Lucretius “teaches that atoms, as they are …not retarded externally in passing through the empty vacuum, and strive and are borne straightly by the force of their solidity from their places towards that place to which their first efforts tend, far exceed light itself in velocity…” (quoted in Cohen, “Newton’s concept”, 140).

Cf. Plutarch: “everything is borne along in its own natural direction unless this is changed by some other force” (De facie in orbe lunae, c.6).

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as “actual”, for this qualification raises, as we shall see, a distinct set of issues, and, moreover

Spinoza does not mention “actuality” in every instance in which he identifies “striving” and

“essence” in his writings.79 In the course of the next three sections I will examine how

Spinoza’s identification of the conatus with the “essence” of a thing bears on the question of

the causal nature of striving. As I already signaled, and as we shall see in detail in what

follows, the manner in which Spinoza conceives of the causality of essences in his

metaphysics turns out to patently undermine the now standard teleological interpretations of

the conatus doctrine.

The proposition in which Spinoza affirms this identity of the conatus with the

“actual essence” of a thing follows immediately upon the central statement of the doctrine in

3p6, and sketches very clearly the causal nature of the conatus:

The striving by which each thing strives to persevere in its being is nothing but the actual essence of the thing [Conatus quo unaquaeque res in suo esse perseverare conatur, nihil est praeter ipsius rei actualem essentiam]. Dem. From the given essence of each thing some things necessarily follow (by 1p36), and things are able [to produce80] nothing but what follows necessarily from their determinate nature (by 1p29). So the power81 of each thing, or the striving by which it (either alone or with others) does anything or strives to do anything – i.e. (by [3]p6), the power or striving, by which it strives to persevere in its being, is nothing but the given or actual essence of the thing itself [Ex data cujuscunque rei essentia quaedam necessario sequuntur (per propositionem 36 partis I) nec res aliud possunt quam id quod ex determinata earum natura necessario sequitur (per propositionem 29 partis I); quare cujuscunque rei potentia sive conatus quo ipsa vel sola vel cum

79 Cf. e.g. 3p54d, 4p20d; 4p25d. This variation in Spinoza’s claim is presumably an outcome of the fact that, as we shall see in the penultimate section of the Chapter, for Spinoza every essence is ipso facto “actual.”

80 (*) Curley’s addition. 81 Note that, as 3p7 suggests, the concept of “power” is for Spinoza reducible to causal terms:

“power” just is the (necessary) production of effects. For instance, Spinoza justifies his claim that God’s “essence is power” by saying that God’s essence is to be a cause of himself, as well as the cause of all modes (1p34). For another passage where Spinoza describes “essence” as “power”, cf. e.g. 4def8, where Spinoza describes nature or essence as “the power of effecting what can only be understood by the laws of that [thing’s] nature”.

Hobbes similarly reduces power to causality (cf. De Corpore, ch. 10). (In the light of the Aristotelian causal framework which forms the background of this

discussion, it is worth emphasizing here perhaps that Spinozistic potentia carries no implications of a mere, possibly unfulfilled, ‘potentiality’.)

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aliis quidquam agit vel agere conatur hoc est (per propositionem 6 hujus) potentia sive conatus quo in suo esse perseverare conatur, nihil est praeter ipsius rei datam sive actualem essentiam], q.e.d. (3p7; II/146) What does this passage tell us? Spinoza’s claim here is that any “thing [res]” will

necessarily produce certain effects – it will necessarily “do [agere]” something – simply by

virtue of having a particular essence. And this “necessary following” of effects from an

essence just is for Spinoza the “striving” of the thing endowed with that essence. To use

traditional Scholastic terminology, we can say that for Spinoza “striving” is tantamount to

the production of propria, that is, of necessary properties that follow from an essence. That

is, Spinoza’s thesis that each thing “strives” is fundamentally rooted in his conception of the

nature of essences, and more precisely in his conviction that any existing essence will

necessarily give rise to some effect(s). (As a convenient shorthand, we can refer to this as

Spinoza’s ‘causal conception of essence’.)82 Among the various effects that any thing will

necessarily produce in the course of its existence, by itself or in concert with others, those

will be constitutive of its “striving” which arise by virtue of its essence, and to the degree

that they arise from its essence. (For, according to Spinoza, we strive even insofar as we

have “inadequate” ideas (3p9) – that is, insofar as we are only partial causes of a given

effect;83 so for example, we may strive for nourishment, insofar as we are essentially a thing

that eats; yet we may not have an adequate grasp of what kind of nourishment will maintain

the constitutive motion-and-rest ratio of simpler bodies composing our body). But, in

general, an effect will be a manifestation of a thing’s “striving” to the extent that this thing’s

82 The further conclusion this characterization of the causal nature of striving suggests is that striving simply is an instance of formal causation, which as we saw in the previous Chapter consists in the following of properties from an essence. I will endorse this conclusion explicitly below in §7.

83 (*) Cf.: “All our strivings, or Desires, follow from the necessity of our nature in such a way that they can be understood either through it alone, as through their proximate cause, or insofar as we are a part of nature, which cannot be conceived adequately through itself without other individuals” (4AppI; II/266).

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own essence is the cause of this effect. Hence Spinoza asserts in 3p6 that each thing strives

“as far as it is in itself”: that is, insofar as it does anything solely on account of its own

essence, rather than because it has been acted on by external causes.84

Now, already this very first picture of striving that we have managed to reconstruct

on the basis of 3p7d confirms that, contrary to what has been alleged by scholars like Garrett

and Curley, Spinozistic “striving” is not teleological in nature. For, as we just saw, it is the

relation between a thing’s essence and the effects that necessarily follow from it that describes

the causality proper to striving. But a causal relation in which an effect is explained by

showing how it arises from something prior to it (whether conceptually or causally), without

invoking any “ends” or “goals” which would have brought this striving about or furnished

its explanation, is precisely how earlier we defined non-teleological explanation in general in

the Introduction, on the basis of Garrett’s own characterization.85

84 To this picture we can add that given Spinoza’s metaphysical commitment to the nonexistence of unactualized possibles, if we regard a thing in isolation from its external causes, whatever this thing is capable of, it will in fact do: that is, whatever effect can be brought about by that thing’s essence, it will actually be brought about by it. This necessary productivity of any essence will then constitute Spinoza’s explanation of phenomena like resistance or opposition: a striving individual X will be said to ‘resist’ or ‘oppose’ the actions of external causes to the extent that the effects this X necessarily produces will tend to bring about incompatible results. I say this in reference to the frequent worry expressed by scholars (following Leibniz’s criticisms of Descartes) that non-teleological accounts like the Cartesian conatus are incapable of explaining the phenomena of resistance or opposition.

Another consequence of this non-teleological picture of striving is that Spinoza’s thesis that all things strive will license predictions about an individual’s behavior insofar as behavior essential to this individual can in principle (at least by an unlimited intellect) be inferred from this individual's essence, as stated by its definition. However, it will not license such predications on the basis of the fact that each individual has a goal or purpose from which we can infer what it will do.

85 One could object that this idea of effects “necessarily following” is reconcilable with a teleological structure of causality. This is because in principle at least it is possible that what necessarily follows from my essence could nonetheless also follow to an end, one determined by my essence alone. (For example, it could necessarily follow from my essence that I act in view of the good.) This would be in a sense an inversion of the Aristotelian model on which efficient and final causes cooperate under the aegis of the latter: here they would complement each other under the direction of the former. On its own the argument that “striving” is a function of “necessarily following” does leave in principle this scenario open, although there does not seem to be any indication that this is a picture Spinoza embraces. We would also have to recognize that the truly

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That this picture of “striving” constitutes the correct construal of Spinoza’s doctrine

is confirmed by several other passages in the Ethics. These show that 3p7 is in no way

exceptional or unusual within Spinoza’s corpus in identifying the causality of striving with

the causality of a thing’s necessarily causally productive essence, making no reference to

either internal or external “ends” that would bring this striving about, and furnish its

explanation. For example, in 4p25 Spinoza remarks that there is necessarily “striving”

whenever we posit an “essence”, and that any striving is a function of a thing’s own essential

nature:

No one wishes to preserve his being because of another thing86 [Nemo suum esse alterius rei causa conservare conatur]

Dem. The striving, by which everything strives to persevere in its being, is defined by the thing’s essence alone (by 3p7). If this alone is given, then it follows necessarily that each one strives to preserve his being – but this does not follow necessarily from the essence of any other thing (by 3p6) [Conatus quo unaquaeque res in suo esse perseverare conatur, sola ipsius rei essentia definitur (per propositionem 7 partis III) eaque sola data, non autem ex alterius rei essentia necessario sequitur (per propositionem 6 partis III) ut unusquisque suum esse conservare conatur]. (4p25; II/226; my ital.; transl. alt.)87

explanatory cause is not teleological on this scenario: for the production of an end is secondary to and derivative from a prior cause, my essence. To accept this scenario is to concede that the end in question (in the example, the “good”) is an effect of my essence, and that it does only secondary or derivative explanatory and causal work. Spinoza would, it seems to me, object to such a conception, since he appears to believe that there is nothing in Nature that corresponds to the notion of an end, even when subordinate in this manner.

We have to distinguish this scenario of course from a related one, in which from the inadequate ideas that make up the essence of my mind the inadequate idea that I’m acting for the sake of some goal follows. The difference between this picture and the previous one is that in this case no ends are involved at the metaphysical level of the action; there is only a phenomenological self-understanding (misunderstanding). Indeed, I take it that this is roughly what happens according to Spinoza when we ordinarily conceive of ourselves as beings that act on ends.

86 Transl. note. Curley’s translation of “alterius rei causa” as “for the sake of something else” injects an end-directedness not present in the original Latin. 87 The ending of the demonstration might seem to leave open the possibility that striving could follow from the essence of some other thing though not necessarily, or that it could follow from some other thing but not from its essence – for example, from how some thing merely appears in relation to us. However, both of these alternative readings are ruled out by the earlier claim in the same passage that striving is “defined by the thing’s essence alone” (as well as other passages, such as 3p7d). The first alternative reading – that striving could follow from the essence of some other thing albeit not necessarily – is also ruled out by Spinoza’s commitment to necessitarianism.

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Similarly, 3p9s depicts the causal structure of striving as a necessary unfolding from an

essence, involving nothing but the necessary consequences of this essence, with nothing

standing as an “end” for the striving individual, in the context of the consequences such a

causal picture will have for how we must understand the nature of a desire or volition for a

“good”:

Appetite [i.e. striving “related [refertur] to the Mind and Body together”] is nothing but the very essence of man, from whose nature there necessarily follow those things that promote his preservation. And so man is determined to do those things [nihil aliud est quam ipsa hominis essentia ex cujus natura ea quae ipsius conservationi inserviunt, necessario sequuntur atque adeo homo ad eadem agendum determinatus est]… We neither strive for, nor will, neither want, nor desire anything because we judge it to be good; on the contrary, we judge something to be good because we strive for it, will it, want it, and desire it [nihil nos conari, velle, appetere neque cupere quia id bonum esse judicamus sed contra nos propterea aliquid bonum esse judicare quia id conamur, volumus, appetimus atque cupimus]. (3p9s; II/148; my ital.)

In other words, Spinoza’s Hobbesian88 conclusion is that contrary for example to Descartes’s

belief that desire follows upon our consideration of good and evil,89 it is not the case that

when we will or desire something “good”, that object’s (or state’s) preexisting desirability or

goodness causes and explains the striving. Instead, according to Spinoza, we desire and will

something “good” because of the ideas and behaviors that at least partially follow from our

essence: the occurrence of striving is explained simply by the givenness of an essence, and an

object’s apparent desirability does not explain striving but is rather its consequence.

In particular, as this last passage suggests, Spinoza will not regard “preservation

[conservatio]” in being or existence as a “good” that constitutes the end of striving. To recall,

the full statement of Spinoza’s doctrine is that things “strive to persevere [perseverare]” (3p6).

To a partisan of the teleological construal of Spinoza’s conatus doctrine, just as to a Stoic or

88 (*) For Hobbes’s claim that we call good what we desire cf. e.g. Leviathan 6.7, De Homine 11.4.

89 (*) Cf. e.g. Passions of the Soul, §57.

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a medieval Aristotelian thinker, preservation in being would constitute an end for each thing.

On such an account, things don’t just strive, rather, they strive because they want to persevere

in existence: persevering stands for them as a goal and explains the occurrence of striving in

the first place. The relation between “striving” and “preservation” will then appear as a

relation of a means to an end.

However, as the above passages suggest, to interpret the relation between striving

and preservation in this manner is to misread Spinoza. I would contend that for Spinoza

“perseverance” is instead simply the logical feature that all the effects that necessarily follow

from a given essence will have in common. For whatever else such effects bring about,

whatever other properties they may have, all of them, at minimum, jointly and separately

contribute to the thing’s continued existence as what it essentially is.90

This reading is suggested by the manner in which Spinoza argues for this necessarily

“preserving” nature of a thing’s essential effects. The argument, which pivots on a pair of

notorious propositions – 3p4 and 3p591 – presupposes Spinoza’s identification (in line with a

long-standing tradition) of a thing’s “essence” with what is asserted by its “definition”, as

90 But to the extent that an effect can also follow only partially from a thing’s essence – in other words, to the extent that a thing strives on the basis of an inadequate idea of ourselves or of the object of our desire or volition – the causal contribution of the external causes to this effect can bring about a decrease in power and even destruction of the striving individual.

91 3p4: “No thing can be destroyed [destrui] except through an external cause [causa externa]. Dem.: This Proposition is evident through itself [per se patet]. For the definition of any thing affirms, and does not deny, the thing's essence, or it posits the thing's essence, and does not take it away [definitio enim cujuscunque rei ipsius rei essentiam affirmat sed non negat sive rei essentiam ponit sed non tollit]. So while we attend only to the thing itself [rem ipsam], and not to external causes, we shall not be able to find anything in it which can destroy it, q.e.d.”

3p5: “Things are of a contrary nature [contrariae naturae], i.e., cannot be in the same subject [in eodem subjecto esse], insofar as one can destroy [destruere] the other. Dem.: For if they could agree [convenire] with one another, or be in the same subject at once [simul], then there could be something in the same subject which could destroy it, which (by p4) is absurd. Therefore, things etc., q.e.d.”

Note that 3p5 implies that finite things – which clearly can destroy one another – cannot be said to be in God as in the same “subject”; hence the importance of Spinoza’s qualification with the phrase “insofar as” of his descriptions of God.

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well as a fundamental tenet of his metaphysics that we had encountered already in Chapter 2,

namely his conviction that all causal relations strictly correspond to conceptual relations. 92

These two propositions appeal to the “self-evident” truth that no essence can supply a

reason for a “contrary [contrariae]” effect, that is for one that would entail the negation of this

essence. 93 In other words, no effect that can follow from – be inferred from – an essence

of a thing as stated by its definition can imply its non-being, as long as we are dealing with a

genuine thing, and not a chimera whose essence is a contradiction.94 This, however, is not a

92 On my reading these two metaphysical commitments – about essence on the one hand and causality on the other – are part of the same formal-causal metaphysical model.

93 Note that since for Spinoza a true account is an account given from the point of view of eternity, it does not make sense to ask whether the essence of a thing could give rise to a contrary property at some later point in its existence. For, according to Spinoza, to give a true account of a given essence is to give its definition sub specie aeternitatis. This implies that the worry, often raised by commentators, that Spinoza appears to “neglect”, as Bennett puts it, the fact that “causal laws cover stretches of time” (Study, §55.2) and thus that a given entity can conceivably give rise to contradictory properties over a period of time, is misguided. Bennett’s judgment is that this is the “real source of the trouble” with Spinoza’s conatus doctrine and its implied impossibility of self-destruction: “a G thing can cause itself to be non-G later. There is no logical or causal impossibility in this because…time differences turn lethal contradictions into harmless changes.” (Study, §55.2); “[A] nature N might necessitate that nothing could have N for less than ten years, or for more than ten years” (ibid, §55.3).

Similarly, Della Rocca worries about Spinoza’s ability to deal with scenario in which a thing, by virtue of its essence, exists only for a limited period of time, an “essential time bomb”, “a thing whose essence is such that the thing, upon coming into existence, continues to exist but does so for precisely fifteen minutes and then at that point ceases to exist – not due to external factors but due to the essence alone. …I can’t think of a plausible concrete example along these lines, but it’s not clear that such a case…is inconceivable, and so Spinoza would need to rule it out in order to preserve 3p4…. Spinoza does not explicitly consider this kind of case, but there are several points he could invoke to rule it out.” (ibid, 141-2). Putting aside the issue of the merit of Della Rocca’s own solution to the problem, it seems to me clear that Spinoza’s conception of essence clearly rules out the possibility of a contradictory entity like an essential time-bomb. What such interpretations fail to recognize is that Spinoza’s conception of essence in 3p4-5 which grounds the conatus doctrine is intended to expresses an atemporal view on causal relations; on this atemporal view, what follows from an essence in Spinoza’s eyes can never be contradictory. As Spinoza says, “the duration of things cannot be determined from their essence, since the essence of things involves no certain and determinate time of existing. But any thing whatever, whether it is more perfect or less, will always be able to persevere in existing by the same force by which it begins to exist” (4Pref; II/209).

94 Furthermore, all such effects must also be also consistent with one another, insofar as they all follow from (are inferable from) the same definition or essence; hence Spinoza says in 3p5, “Things are of a contrary nature, i.e., cannot be in the same subject, insofar as one can destroy the other” (my ital.). 3p5 is thus elaborating on the consequences of 3p4 in my view.

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teleological claim, but a purely conceptual point about the absence of grounds to infer not-A

from A within a metaphysical framework in which the “essence” of a thing is grasped

through a definition from which we can infer its necessary properties. To put this

differently, it is a necessary property of whatever necessarily follows from a given consistent

premise that this consequence will not negate this premise.95 Thus whatever necessarily

follows from the essence of a thing – in whatever manner or by whatever means this thing

“strives” – it will continue to persevere in being what it essentially is.96 (Expressed in more

concrete terms, Spinoza’s point here – again one in which he echoes Hobbes97 – is that

genuine suicide is simply not a conceptual and hence metaphysical possibility. All cases of

95 In this sense, the continued “perseverance” of a thing entails the continuing “affirmation [affirmatio]” of its essence as stated in its definition. For Spinoza “affirmation” is part and parcel of every “idea” of a thing (2p49): that is, to have an idea of a thing is to affirm that what it represents is true, and thus (by 1ax6) that the representation has a “formal” counterpart in the order of things. Whatever property can be consistently inferred from the essence of a thing will continue to imply the idea of that essence as its premise, and in this sense whatever is inferred will continue to indirectly “affirm” the idea, or the definition, of the thing in question.

I return to this notion of “affirmation” and the nature of “existence” in which things can be said to persevere in the next Chapter.

96 It should be noted however that Spinoza occasionally seems to suggest not only that it belongs to the essence of any individual to have effects which are not contrary to that individual's essence (and thus preserve this essence), but to have effects which in fact aid or increase those powers (see especially 3p12 and 4p31d, which suggests that what follows from our nature must “aid” our preservation, and cannot be simply “indifferent” to that preservation). It is not clear whether Spinoza is in fact entitled to this sort of ‘maximizing’ conception of the nature of striving, given the way he argues for the conatus doctrine. Commentators who do not see maximum power simply as the end Spinoza posits for striving often argue that the assumption that striving is a tendency toward maximizing power can be justified, as it is by Hobbes, by some sort of prudential calculus: since any singular thing will necessarily have less power than the (potentially opposed) combined powers of external causes (4ax1), it would be prudent and reasonable for any individual who desires self-preservation to gather as much power as this individual is capable of, since only power greater than any power an individual can in fact muster could succeed in preserving that individual. (Cf. Hobbes’s remark that the quest for increased power follows from the fact that an individual “cannot assure the power and means to live well, which he hath present, without the acquisition of more” [Leviathan 1.11]).

Whatever one thinks of this account, at the very least it should be noted that the mere fact that Spinoza conceives of essences as tending toward maximum power does not require us to attribute to him a teleological conception of striving. For there is no necessary connection between an increasing series and teleology: to give just two examples, think of a sequence of natural numbers or the acceleration of falling objects.

97 (*) Cf. Hobbes, Dialogue of the Common Laws (English Works 6.88).

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putative self-destruction can be shown to have been brought about at least in part by causes

external to the thing’s own essence. What to our ordinary intuitions may have appeared to

be a self-destructive thing can be shown not to have been in fact a genuinely unified “thing”,

an individual endowed with a consistent essence. Since for Spinoza a thing’s essence

represents the necessary and sufficient conditions of its existence (2def2), an essence that

intrinsically also implied a thing’s non-existence would be a contradictory essence, and thus

not a genuine “thing” at all but a chimera.98)

None of this means, of course, that the necessarily “preserving” effects produced by

a thing’s essence will not be derailed or nullified by the actions of other things on the striving

individual. Indeed, the more what follows from an individual's essence follows from

inadequate ideas (that is, ideas which only partially cause and explain the behavior), and in

general, the smaller the influence of the individual’s own essence on the course its existence

takes, the more the individual is at the mercy of external causes, the greater the likelihood

that this individual's striving will not in fact succeed in bringing about self-preservation.

Thus all Spinozistic striving has to be understood in a hypothetical or conditional terms: what I

desire, will or strive for will necessarily happen, if the effects produced by my essence are not

foiled or distorted by external causes. 99 But of course, being by definition limited

manifestations of causal power, finite things are constantly foiled – and, ultimately, undone –

by external causes.100

98 (*) Cf. 4p20s. 99 (*) For another conditional reading of the conatus cf. Della Rocca, Spinoza, 153. 100 This is, I believe, how we must view the way Spinoza understands the nature of the

“model [exemplar]” of human nature whom he endorses in the Preface to Part 4 (II/208). Once again, speaking from the point of view of what can be truly said about the nature of things, such an ideal model cannot be regarded as something that we judge to be “good” and hence strive for, as for an end of our actions or beliefs. Spinoza, in a typical maneuver, turns the traditional Hellenistic notion of the “wise man” on its head, stripping it of teleological connotations. Rather, I suggest that

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§6. Striving and divine power

As we saw in the previous section, Spinoza’s causal conception of essence – his view

that an essence is necessarily causally efficacious – forms an integral part of his argument for

the conatus doctrine. The question this raises is this: why does Spinoza conceive of essences

in this manner? That is, why must an essence necessarily give rise to certain effects?

Spinoza makes clear that this is his view of the nature of essences already in 1p36,

which states that “Nothing exists from whose nature some effect does not follow [Nihil

existit ex cujus natura aliquis effectus non sequatur]”.101 In other words, every essence is necessarily

also a cause. (As a side note, one could observe that already this proposition on its own

undermines the possibility of at least certain kinds of teleological interpretations of the

conatus, since according to it, nothing can really be an “end”, at least an absolute end, if by

insofar as we are concerned with establishing what Spinoza takes to be objectively true, we must understand this ideal of human nature as denoting whatever a human being would do, if no external causes stand in its way. That is, the model represents what a human being for example, or a rock, would do, if it were God. The ideal model of a human nature will be found in true hypothetical or conditional claims about an individual’s essence and its causal implications: the true model will be a representation of what an individual would be able to do and to become, under conditions in which no external causes thwarted the effects that necessarily follow from this individual’s essence. The model is, in short, a representation of the individual’s existence and effects in the idealized (and in reality unattainable) conditions of freedom from all passivity, in a state of pure activity and causal autonomy. (Hence in the later Parts of the Ethics this model repeatedly reappears in the guise of a “free man [homo liber]”: “freedom”, for Spinoza, is nothing other than causal self-determination [1def7]

Of course we may also dismiss the idea that this model is relevant to Spinoza’s metaphysics, and confine it to Spinoza’s moral philosophy. But I think that there is no need to do that, as we can give a consistent account of the objectively valid (i.e. “formal”) reference of the idea of such a model. In Spinoza’s moral philosophy this model can very well function as an end for us, as long as we understand that as such as this model does not correspond to any objective truth (i.e. to any “formally” existent entity). Although the idea of a model will be a true descriptive claim about the individual’s essence, we can also represent this idea to ourselves in terms of a goal for our actions, and to regard things we grasp as good as means to this goal.

I will not be able to address here the complicated issue of Spinoza’s stance on universals, such as “human nature”. However, I presume that the most adequate formulation of Spinoza’s understanding of this model would be in terms of singular essences, such that to each such essence corresponds an ideal/model of its own nature which is simply whatever the thing in question could do if it were not in any way impeded by external causes.

101 I will return to this proposition later.

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“end” we mean – as many Aristotelians did – the termination of a causal sequence.) From this

point of view, the conatus doctrine, far from being an unwarranted principle that emerges

out of nowhere in Part 3 of the Ethics, as scholars like Della Rocca102 and Curley worry103,

must be seen as resting on a fundamental principle of Spinoza’s metaphysics, established

already in Part 1.104

What then are Spinoza’s reasons for thinking that each thing’s essence must be a

cause, that is, for the view expressed in 1p36 and, again, in the conatus doctrine as

formulated in Part 3? Some light is thrown on this by Spinoza’s demonstration of 3p6, that

is, of one of the central theses of the conatus doctrine:

Each thing, as far as it is in itself, strives to persevere in its being. Dem. For [enim] singular things [res singulares] are modes by which God's attributes are expressed in a certain and determinate way (by 1p25c), i.e. (by 1p34), things that express, in a certain and determinate way, God's power, by which God is and acts [Dei potentiam qua Deus est et agit, certo et determinato modo exprimunt]. And no thing has anything in itself by which it can be destroyed, or which takes its existence away (by [3]p4). On the contrary, it is opposed to everything which can take its existence away (by [3]p5). Therefore, as far as it can, and is in itself, it strives to persevere in its being, q.e.d. (3p6; II/146) 105

102 (*) Della Rocca writes that 3p6 “Although there are important advance indications of this principle in Spinoza’s theory of physical individuals in Part 2…this thesis [i.e. the conatus principle] seemingly emerges without the help of anything prior to Part 3 of the Ethics. 3p6 seems to depend only on the two preceding propositions in Part 3.” (Spinoza, 137). However, Della Rocca also argues in line with his overarching argument that in fact “we can se the PSR as driving 3p4” (ibid, 139).

103 (*) Curley writes that “It is a striking fact about this proposition [3p6] that Spinoza does not seem to connect it very well with the propositions, axioms and definitions which have gone before it” (BGM, 108).

104 I will return in more detail to the question when in the Ethics the conatus doctrine is established later.

105 To say that things “express” God’s attributes “in a certain and determinate way” is from an ontological point of view equivalent to saying that particular things are “affections”, “modifications” or “propria” of God. “Expression” in this case is equivalent in other words to the relation that obtains between an essence and properties that follow from it, i.e to a relation that is simultaneously causal (in a productive or efficacious sense) and conceptual (in an inferential sense). However, not all instances of “expression” are of this sort for Spinoza, since he also believes than attributes “express” the essence of God (cf. e.g. 1p10s). What is the nature of this second type of expression, and what it is that makes of both these relations a relation of “expression” is not something I can address here.

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Stated most succinctly, Spinoza’s basic claim is that the essences of finite modes must give

rise to certain effects – that is, finite things must “strive” – because they are nothing but the

immanent modifications of divine causal power. But let’s consider his demonstration at a

slightly more fine-grained level. His justification of the thesis that all things strive can be

broken down into two parts, each of which articulates one of the two conditions which

render the phenomenon of striving a necessary element of Nature. What we can label the

‘positive’ condition concerns the ontological relation Spinoza establishes between substance

and modes; the ‘negative’ condition appeals in turn to the absence of grounds for any

contradictory consequence.

We are already familiar with this second, ‘negative’ part of the demonstration. Let’s

then take a closer look at the ‘positive’ condition. Here the thesis that singular, or finite,106

things strive is supposed to follow directly from two other fundamental metaphysical

commitments on Spinoza’s part. The first of these is his monistic doctrine that finite things

are not independent or separate substances but rather remain “in” (1p15) God as the

“immanent [immanens]” (1p18) “modifications” or “affections” of his nature, where

“finitude” is understood as being causally “limited [terminare]” by another individual of the

same nature (1def2).107 The second metaphysical thesis in play here is Spinoza’s conception

of God’s essence as itself nothing other than a causal “power [potentia]” (1p34), within a

metaphysical framework in which all the effects that God is capable of producing are in fact

produced (1p17s[I]; II/62). Together, these two theses entail that for Spinoza all finite

things are the immanent modifications or properties of a being whose essence it is to be a

causal power. In other words, finite things are just the determinate manifestations of an

106 (*) For the equivalence of “finite” and “singular” in Spinoza’s writings see e.g. 2def7. 107 I will return at length to Spinoza’s conception of finitude in the next Chapter.

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infinite causal power, the power of necessarily producing all possible effects: each finite

essence is a determinate divine property by means of which God produces a circumscribed

set of further effects.

Putting the ‘negative’ or logical condition of striving alongside this ‘positive’

grounding of “striving” in the substance-mode relation, we can thus conclude that according

to Spinoza things “strive” just because they are the necessarily conceptually consistent

manifestations of God's own necessarily actualized causal power. That is, according to the

demonstration of 3p6, it is the ontological status of finite modes that justifies the claim that

each such finite thing will “strive to persevere in its being” – that is, will necessarily give rise

to certain (necessarily logically consistent) effects.108 The seamless way Spinoza moves in

this demonstration between a purely conceptual register (evident especially in the appeal to

3p4-5) and a causal one is a reminder that for him causality and conceptuality are

indissociable – or indeed that, if one accepts my reading, causation is formal causation.

There are several other passages in the Ethics that reiterate this grounding of the

striving of finite modes in divine power.109 Of course, this kind of justification raises in turn

its own questions.110 Most importantly for the present context perhaps, it raises the question

of Spinoza’s reasons for asserting that God is essentially a causal power. This will be the

central concern of the next Chapter. Right now, however, I would like to note that our

108 Curley’s apparent incomprehension of Spinoza’s overall argument here is perplexing. Curley cites Spinoza’s claim that “Singular things are modes by which God’s attributes are expressed in a certain and determinate way”, and “Singular things are things that express, in a certain and determinate way, God’s power”, Curley adds that “It is not immediately obvious what the relevance of these propositions is…though I shall suggest later that they are not as idle as they seem” (BGM, 109).

109 Cf. 4p4d (II/213); 2p45s (II/127); 1p24c (II/127). Arguably, 1p24c could be read as imputing striving to all modes, not just to finite ones. However, in this same corollary Spinoza also speaks about “duration”, which suggests that his topic is solely finite things.

110 For example, it raises the question of Spinoza’s reasons for holding that all modes are “in” God, i.e. that God is ontologically not transcendent in relation to them. Addressing this question is however beyond the scope of the present project.

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recognition of the fact that, in the case of finite individuals at least, Spinoza justifies his

conatus doctrine by anchoring it in the substance-mode relation, is particularly significant in

the context of the present inquiry because of how it bears on the controversy over the status

of final causes in Spinoza’s metaphysics that is one of the principal concerns of this Chapter.

For, as noted earlier, there is a universal consensus among scholars – and rightly so – that

Spinoza conceives of divine causation as non-teleological in nature. But given that, as we just

saw, Spinoza also derives the striving of finite modes from the fact that they are just the

immanent modifications of divine causal power, this seems to give us a good reason to

suspect that the striving of modes may share in this non-teleological nature of divine

causality. In other words, Spinoza’s grounding of striving in divine power offers a plausible

argument that any finite conatus would also be a non-teleological phenomenon.

However, there is an obvious objection to this attempt to generalize from God’s

causal nature to the causal nature of finite modes. After all, despite the fact that in Spinoza’s

monistic system all things are in a sense identical with God, there is of course a long and

familiar list of predicates that apply to God alone: unlike any mode, God qua substance is

causally and conceptually self-sufficient; unlike finite modes in particular, he is infinite,

eternal, and devoid of inadequate ideas.111 Indeed, it seems that no element of God’s essential

nature, as stated in his definition – that is, neither his “absolute infinity”, nor his

substantiality (1def6) – transfers to modes. The existence of such indisputable differences

might lead us to suspect that, despite the close connection Spinoza indisputably establishes

between divine power and the striving of finite modes in his derivation of one from the

other in passages like 3p6d, also in the aspect of causality we are interested in here – end-

111 In the next Chapter I look in detail at the problem of how an infinite God causes something finite.

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directedness or lack thereof – God and God’s finite properties will turn out to be

fundamentally different.

This objection insists on the right amount of caution, lest we jump to overly hasty

conclusions. I certainly would not want to deny that there are some fundamental differences

between the causal natures of God and modes, especially finite modes. However, it is worth

noting that none of the standardly recognized differences between the natures of modes and

substance imply that that the non-teleological character of the divine essence does not

generalize to the essences of modes, including finite modes. For let’s look at potential

candidates. Would a teleological causal structure be necessarily entailed by the fact that no

mode is, like God, a causa sui, but each constitutively depends on external determination to

be and to act, and so is constitutively “limited” by other individuals? Or by the related fact

that the causal power of a finite mode, unlike the infinite power of God, can be, and often is,

frustrated? Or by the fact that the essence of a mode, unlike the divine essence, isn’t a cause

of “absolutely infinite” effects? It seems to me that the answer to each of these questions is

no. That is, I believe that none of these asymmetries between God and modes (either infinite

or finite) entail that ends govern the existence and actions of modes, unless we assume that

to “strive” is to strive for or against something other than oneself, or for something one

perceives oneself to lack. In such a case indeed, the causality of finite modes would be

necessarily different from God’s, since God, being unique and “absolutely infinite” has

nothing outside himself to strive against or for, nor does he have inadequate ideas, such as

that of “lacking” something.112 But to assume that striving has this kind of end-directedness,

112 To be clear, not all ends of course presuppose a “lack” or something external, but I focus here on external ends and (perceptions of) “lack” because these constitute uncontroversial differences between the natures of finite things and God: only finite things have “things” external to it, and only finite things can have inadequate ideas such as that of a “lack”.

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where the end is either an imagined “lack”, or some genuine other thing, and to assume that

the frustration of striving must be conceived as a failure to achieve an end, rather than in

conditional terms, is to beg the question, for what we are trying to determine here is

precisely the adequacy of such teleological construals of striving. In particular, we cannot

confuse the inherent limitedness of finite things with end-directedness: the former does not

entail the latter. But there does not seem to be any good reason to conclude that the mere

limitation of a certain kind of power would radically transform its nature.

What about duration? Could one make the argument that in Spinoza's system

teleology is necessarily introduced together with duration, that is, that when the divine causal

power is expressed in the durational existence of finite things it becomes end-directed?113

It’s not clear that this is even a possible argument to make. Prima facie at least, it seems

highly unlikely. For already the Early Modern period itself furnishes immediate grounds to

doubt the above suggestion that a relation which involves time ipso facto also necessarily

involves ends. After all, as is well-known, one of the main preoccupations of Descartes in

his work on the new, non-Aristotelian physics is precisely the nature of non-teleological but

durational motion of bodies across space.114 But if it were indeed the case that there can be

no duration without teleology, then it seems that the very foundations of the Cartesian

project of a new physics would have been, obviously to all, doomed from their very start.115

I return in more detail to Spinoza’s understanding of lack, or “privation [privatio]”, in the next Chapter. For Spinoza’s classification of such ideas as inadequate cf. e.g. 4Pref, and Ep. 19 and 21.

113 It should be noted here that some scholars believe that infinite modes are sempiternal, not eternal. See e.g. Kneale, “Eternity and Sempiternity”.

114 (*) For Descartes’s assertion of a necessary connection between motion and duration cf. e.g. Rule 12 (AT X 421); Med. V (AT VII 63) and Pr II 39. However, for a contrary reading of Descartes, which dissociates motion and time cf. Koyré's Galileo Studies (259-60)

115 This isn’t to suggest, of course, that the Cartesian physics is without its problems, as noted already e.g. by Leibniz.

I will return to the question of the relation of striving to duration in detail in the last

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In short, I think that none of the non-question begging differences between the

nature of God and the natures of modes, either finite or infinite, necessitate the conclusion

that the non-teleological nature of divine causality would necessarily metamorphose into

end-directed causality at the level of God’s finite properties. At the very least, a proponent

of a teleological construal of the conatus doctrine owes us an argument showing why such a

radical transformation in causal natures must take place. To me at least the possibility of

such an argument seems quite unlikely. Indeed, on the contrary, all textual indications are

that the causality of finite striving is identical in nature to the causality of divine power. It is

not only the fact that in 3p6d and in similar passages Spinoza anchors this striving in divine

power, which makes it at least plausible to think that their causal natures are the same. Even

more telling is the fact that the basic causal ‘schema’ that we have identified as at work in

striving applies in Spinoza’s eyes equally to the divine essence. For, according to Spinoza,

God too has an essence identical to a causal “power” from which things – indeed, an infinity

of things – “follow necessarily” (1p16). As we saw in §5, this “necessary following” from

the essence just is what the causality of striving in general – the striving of “any thing

[unaquaeque res]” consists in for Spinoza. This identity of the causal structures – what we can

refer to as the ‘isomorphism’ of the causal schema of striving and the causal schema of the

divine essence – entitles us, I believe, to regard the causality of the essences of modes as

non-teleological in nature, on par with God’s own causality.116

section. 116 Another consequence of this causal isomorphism is that it suggests that God also strives;

we shall return to this question later.

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§7. Mathematical analogies and formal causality once again

Let me summarize our conclusions thus far in this Part of the Chapter. First, I

argued that by virtue of Spinoza’s identification of “striving” with “essence” we must

understand the causality of striving to have a non-teleological structure, which consists in the

relation of a “necessary following” of properties from that essence. Second, I argued that

both Spinoza’s grounding of striving in God’s non-teleological power, and the causal

isomorphism between the divine essence and the nature of striving in general indicate that,

contrary to the prevailing interpretations of the conatus doctrine, we must regard striving as

non-teleological in nature.

In the present section I want to bring to light one more reason to view the conatus

as a non-teleological phenomenon. As we just saw, for Spinoza the causality of striving and

God’s uncontroversially non-teleological causality are mirror images of one another. What I

want to call attention to now is that the basic causal schema of a relation of “necessary

following” linking essences and their effects, manifest in both striving and divine production

of modes, is present in Spinoza’s philosophy in a further, also manifestly non-teleological,

instance. This is because, as we can recall from the previous Chapter, Spinoza also describes

the causality of definitions and mathematical entities in terms of a “necessary following” of

effects from essences.

I argued in that Chapter that both geometrical figures and definitions would have

been understood by Spinoza and his contemporaries as manifesting formal-causal relations,

and that this is how we should understand the relation of “necessary following”. Now

clearly, whatever causal character we choose to attribute to the phenomenon of “striving’,

the causal relations that constitute this “striving” will have to be, at the very least, consistent

with this dominant formal-causal model of causation which Spinoza adopts at the ground

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floor of his metaphysics. But to stop at acknowledging this requirement of consistency is to

overlook the fact that Spinoza in fact posits a much more immediate connection between

striving and his formal-causal model. For, as we saw earlier, in 3p4 and 3p5 Spinoza

explicitly models “striving” on the causality proper to “definitions”: it is, to recall, by

drawing our attention to the logical nature of properties that can follow from the

“definition” of a thing that he lays down the foundation for his claim that all things “strive”

to “persevere” in their being. And so it is both the language of “necessary following” as this

idiom reemerges in the specific context of the conatus doctrine (for example in 3p7d and

3p9s), as well as Spinoza’s overt appeal to the properties of definitions as what supplies us

with the correct conception of the nature of striving, that suggest that the causality of

striving is not merely reconcilable with formal causality, but itself is an instance of formal

causality.

That striving just is an instance of formal causality is a conclusion that has been

strongly hinted at since the very first section of this Part of the Chapter, where we identified

the “necessary following” of properties from an essence – the formal-causal relation par

excellence, as we saw in Chapter 2 – as the causal relation constitutive of striving. The fact

that Spinoza adopts formal causality as a universal model of causation should also renders

entirely unsurprising in retrospect our discovery in §6 of a causal ‘isomorphism’ between

divine causality and striving. Thus we can see that in Spinoza’s metaphysics formal causation

is at work both at the level of divine causation, and at the level of finite causation, where

each finite essence is a property by means of which the divine essence formally causes

further finite effects.

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Now, as is well known, in Aristotelian metaphysics formal causes were closely

intertwined, indeed, often identified, with final causes.117 In view of this, one may suppose

that our discovery of formal causal relations at the heart of Spinoza’s conatus doctrine

would only further buttress teleological construals of this doctrine. But I think this would be

precisely the wrong conclusion to draw. For recall from Chapter 2 that what led us to

attribute to Spinoza a formal-causal model of causation was not a discovery of a hidden

sympathy for Aristotelian metaphysics, which indeed holds that formal and final causes are

often one and the same, but instead Spinoza’s adoption of geometrical figures and

definitions as models of causality: his conception of the nature of a formal cause is, in short,

first and foremost mathematical. But, to make my point on a more intuitive level first, if the

relations of “necessary following” that characterize the conatus are supposed to be

fundamentally of the same kind as formal-cause relations exhibited by the essences and

properties of triangles, then there does not seem to be any room in “striving” for ends –

anymore than the fact that the three angles of a triangle equal two right angles could be said

to be the “end” of the nature of a triangle. Indeed, in the Aristotelian tradition which, as we

saw in the previous Chapter, provided the dominant conceptual idiom for 17th century

mathematics, mathematics were viewed precisely as a realm that excludes all final causes.

Thus Arnauld, for example, comments that “mathematicians…never give demonstrations

involving efficient or final causes” (Fourth Obj.; AT VII 212).118 Indeed, Spinoza himself

explicitly describes mathematics precisely in this way, remarking that others

maintained it as certain that the judgments [judicia] of the gods far surpass man's

117 And indeed also with the efficient cause. (Cf. e.g. “Plainly, however, that cause is the first which we call that for the sake of which. For this is the account of the thing….” (Aristotle, Parts of Animals, Bk.I ch.1 639b13).) 118 (*) The same views are expressed e.g. by Biancani and Barrow (see Mancosu, PM, 17, 22); cf. also Carriero, “Spinoza’s Views on Necessity”, 63.

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grasp. This alone, of course, would have caused the truth to be hidden from the human race to eternity, if Mathematics, which is concerned not with ends, but only with the essences and properties of figures, had not shown men another standard of truth [nisi mathesis, quae non circa fines sed tantum circa figurarum essentias et proprietates versatur, aliam veritatis normam hominibus ostendisset]. (1App; II/79; my ital.)

That is, in Spinoza’s eyes mathematics, precisely insofar as it disavows all mention of “ends”,

offers a redemptory alternative to thinking of Nature teleologically, and in so doing furnishes

us with a genuine criterion of metaphysical truth.

In short, everything about Spinoza’s handling of the tradition of formal causes

suggests that, following the tradition of Aristotelian mathematics rather than metaphysics, he

severs all connection between “form” and “end”. But if the formal causality that typifies

definitions and mathematical entities also characterizes striving, this furnishes us with yet

another reason to doubt that the latter can be accurately described as end-directed, as most

scholars hold. Conversely, Spinoza’s rejection of teleology cannot be seen as indicative of

his adoption of a “blind” and “mechanistic” view of nature, as scholars like Carriero or

Bennett propose.119 That is, it is a false to represent blind mechanism as Spinoza’s only

alternative to teleology. The Early Modern ontology of cause is, as we have now seen,

much richer than that. Instead, I propose that we see Spinoza’s elimination of ends as going

hand in hand with his embrace of an intrinsically intelligible formal-cause model. For in

Spinoza’s metaphysics these two causal theses form simply the negative and positive sides of

one and the same causal doctrine.

To return briefly, in closing, to a problem raised in the first Part of this Chapter, to

read Spinoza as endorsing a formal-cause model of causation allows us make new sense of

what is, at worst, an embarrassing non-sequitur in Spinoza’s argument, or, at best, merely an

119 (*) See e.g. Bennett, Study, §51.2; Carriero, “Spinoza’s views on necessity”, 59, 137.

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ad hoc argument against final causes in the first Appendix. As we saw earlier, one of

Spinoza’s arguments there rested on an appeal to necessitarianism. But, as we noted, such

reasoning is open to an obvious objection (one that surely would have been obvious to

Spinoza himself): clearly there is no incompatibility in principle (nor indeed in fact, in the

history of metaphysics) between teleology and necessitarianism. As I noted earlier, I think

Spinoza’s arguments in the Appendix are intended to be ad hoc and dialectical arguments.

However, recognizing that Spinoza’s conception of necessity is specifically a conception of

necessity as this notion is understood by a formal-causal model (and so as the necessity of

the relation between properties and essences), we can read Spinoza’s appeal to necessity in

the Appendix differently, namely as the claim that there are no final causes in Nature

because everything follows necessarily from divine essence as from a formal cause. And this

does indeed rule out the possibility of ends.

This discussion of the significance of Spinoza’s formal causal model for the question

of Spinoza’s stance on final causes completes my argument for a non-teleological reading of

the conatus doctrine, and thus for a non-teleological interpretation of the causality of finite

things in general, since every existing finite property or affection in Spinoza’s universe will be

explicable by reference to the conatus doctrine. This is because every existing finite property

or affection will follow either from one finite essence (in cases of “adequate” causation), or

from several finite essences (in cases of partial causation by any given individual), with the

finite essences themselves constituting a non-teleological effect of the divine essence. As we

have seen, all the available textual evidence – Spinoza’s own descriptions of striving as

merely the “necessary following” of effects from an essence; his grounding of striving in

divine potentia and the structural isomorphism between this potentia and the causality of

striving; finally, the fact that relations constitutive of striving are conceived as formal-causal

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relations within a mathematical tradition that reject final causes – all these various pieces of

textual evidence point consistently to the conclusion that, contrary to what is alleged today

by the majority of scholars, Spinoza’s conatus doctrine must be construed non-teleologically.

One consequence of this is that we must recognize that according to Spinoza all

desire and will – to the extent that these are merely ways of considering the more general

underlying phenomenon of “striving” (3p9s) – will also not, in metaphysical rigor, involve

any ends. “Will”, according to Spinoza, is simply striving considered in relation to the mind

alone, and so a certain essentially necessary series of ideas; “desire” in turn is striving

considered in relation to the mind and body together, and one of which we are “conscious

[conscii]” (3p9s; II/147-8).120 The concept of “consciousness” unfortunately is not one

Spinoza pays much attention to, nor develops in any systematic fashion in his writings.

However, the few remarks he makes about it suggest that having consciousness of a

phenomenon does not alter its fundamental causal nature,121 and also that degrees of

“consciousness” correspond to the degree to which a mind able to be an “adequate” – self-

sufficient – cause of a variety of ideas.122

120 (*) Cf. also 3p2s[ii]: “both the decision of the Mind and the appetite and the determination of the Body by nature exist together—or rather are one and the same thing, which we call a decision when it is considered under, and explained through, the attribute of Thought, and which we call a determination when it is considered under the attribute of Extension and deduced from the laws of motion and rest.” (II/144)

121 (*) Cf. e.g. Letter 58, to Schuller: “A stone receive from the impulsion of an external cause a fixed quantity of motion whereby it will necessarily continue to move… What here applies to the stone must be understood of every individual thing, however complex its structure and various its functions. For every single thing is necessarily determined by an external cause to exist and to act in a fixed and determinate way. Furthermore, conceive if you please, that while continuing in motion the stone thinks, and knows that it is endeavoring, as far as in it lies, to continue in motion. Now this stone, since it is conscious only of its endeavor… will surely think it is completely free, and that it continues in motion for o other reason that it so wishes. This, then, is that human freedom which all men boast of possessing…”

122 Consciousness corresponds to a certain “distinctness” of ideas; presumably, “distinctness” of understanding involves at least the ability to discern what consequences follow from the ideas we have, and how these ideas are explanatorily related to other ideas.

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The non-teleological nature of human action is reaffirmed by Spinoza in the Preface

to Part 4, where, right after reminding us that in the first Appendix he has shown that God

has no ends, Spinoza confirms that we must extend this conclusion also to human ends:

What is called a final cause is nothing but a human appetite insofar as it is considered as a principle, or primary cause, of some thing [Causa autem quae finalis dicitur, nihil est praeter ipsum humanum appetitum quatenus is alicujus rei veluti principium seu causa primaria consideratur]. For example, when we say that habitation was the final cause of this or that house, surely we understand nothing but that a man, because he imagined the conveniences of domestic life, had an appetite to build a house. So habitation, insofar as it is considered as a final cause, is nothing more than this singular appetite. It is really an efficient cause, which is considered as a first cause, because men are commonly ignorant of the causes of their appetites [nihil est praeter hunc singularem appetitum qui revera causa est efficiens quae ut prima consideratur quia homines suorum appetituum causas communiter ignorant]. For as I have often said before, they are conscious of their actions and appetites, but not aware of the causes by which they are determined to want something. (4Pref; II/206-7) 123

The passage reiterates a point Spinoza makes already, as we saw in Part A of this Chapter, in

the first Appendix in relation to God: all our ideas of ends can be traced back to our

misunderstanding of our own “appetites”, to the fact that in our ignorance of how we have

been causally determined in our thinking and in our desires, we wrongly regard what we

want, or what we contemplate, as the first and primary cause of our actions and thoughts.

Hence Spinoza’s reductive definition of the idea of an “end” to (non-teleologically

conceived) striving: “By the end for the sake of which we” – beings constituted by minds

Cf. e.g. “[H]e who, like an infant or child, has a Body capable of very few things, and very heavily dependent on external causes, has a Mind which considered solely in itself is conscious of almost nothing of itself, or of God, or of things. On the other hand, he who has a Body capable of a great many things, has a Mind which considered only in itself is very much conscious of itself, and of God, and of things. In this life, then, we strive especially that the infant's Body may change (as much as its nature allows and assists) into another, capable of a great many things and related to a Mind very much conscious of itself, of God, and of things” (5p39s); “[I]n proportion as the actions of a body depend more on itself alone, and as other bodies concur with it less in acting, so its mind is more capable of understanding distinctly.” (2p13s)

123 This reductive definitional strategy is widely employed by Spinoza in the Ethics, in relation not only to teleological vocabulary but also to normative terminology (cf. e.g. Spinoza’s equation of “virtue” and causal “power” in 4def8).

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and bodies – “do something I understand appetite [Per finem cujus causa aliquid facimus,

appetitum intelligo]” (4def7; II/210), that is “striving” referred to the mind and body together

(3p9s).124

§8. The scope of the conatus doctrine

Toward the end of the previous section I noted that my argument in this Chapter for

a non-teleological reading of the conatus doctrine also constitutes an argument for a non-

teleological interpretation of finite causality more generally. The outstanding issue I want to

address in the present section is one that has to do with the relation between striving and

infinite things – the infinite modes on the one hand and the absolutely infinite substance or

God on the other. The concern of this section, in other words, is the scope of Spinoza’s

conatus doctrine: can we talk about striving of other things besides finite modes? This

possibility that the conatus doctrine extends beyond the essences of modes, has, rather

remarkably, hardly ever been raised by scholars, even if only to show why it would be a

mistaken interpretation.125 Some commentators (for example Garrett126) rightly stress that the

conatus doctrine must be taken to apply to all modes. This precludes any interpretation of the

conatus that would attempt to explain this phenomenon fundamentally in terms of

intentional goals, or conscious desires that aim at future states, although such interpretations

124 In reading both the habitation passage in 4Pref and 4def7 as describing our self-understanding in terms of final causes as a misunderstanding I agree with Carriero’s reading of these passages (“Spinoza on final causality,” 142, 144).

125 As of the first draft of this Chapter, this neglect was total. Since then, Della Rocca has suggested that Spinoza is implicitly committed to the existence of divine striving because the conatus doctrine expresses a merely conditional causal claim: “Just as we will preserve ourselves unless other things interfere, so too God will preserve himself unless other things interfere. …[T]he truth of the kinds of conceptually grounded conditional claims that constitutes striving and indeed causation for finite things is in place for God as well” (Spinoza, 152-3).

126 (*) Cf. e.g. Garrett, “Teleology in Spinoza”, 316.

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are also put forth.127 So although I disagree with Garrett’s teleological interpretation of the

conatus, it is an undeniable virtue of his position that he recognizes that his interpretation

will have to apply with complete generality to all finite beings. I am not sure that all who opt

for a teleological reading of the conatus would be willing follow it through to this logical

end, and accept this conclusion of universal finite teleology. But noting the universality of

Spinoza’s conatus doctrine in relation to all finite modes is only a first step, even if an

important first step, in attaining to a correct interpretation of this doctrine. For although it

is assumed virtually without exception than Spinoza intends the conatus doctrine to apply

solely to finite modes,128 I will now show that this conclusion is incorrect, both as regards

substance and as regards infinite modes.

Let me first pose the question whether, according to Spinoza, God is supposed to

also fall under the scope of this doctrine. The suggestion that Spinoza’s metaphysics has

room for something like a divine conatus was already implicit in the various pieces of

evidence cited above for the non-teleological construal of the nature of “striving”. For one,

it is suggested by the causal isomorphism between the causality of “striving” and God’s own

causal power. This isomorphism cuts both ways: if it suggests that the striving of modes is

non-teleological in nature, conversely it also implies that perhaps God too should be seen as

a res that strives. Similarly, if divine power in its finite determinations is a striving, we may

wonder why divine power would not itself also count as a striving. Finally, if striving just is

formal causality, as I have claimed, then it will be as universal as formal causality itself is in

Spinoza’s metaphysics.

127 (*) For this interpretation cf. e.g. Barbone, Lee, and Adler who describe conatus as “psychological drive” in their note to the Shirley translation of Ep. 32 (The Letters, 194).

128 (*) For an explicit statement of this view see e.g. Carriero, “Spinoza on final causality”, 132.

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Nonetheless, given the now-prevalent interpretations of Spinoza’s views on causality,

it is not surprising that discussion of this possibility that God is a thing that strives is, as

already noted, almost entirely absent from Spinoza scholarship. This is because implicit in

these interpretations is a ready explanation of why there simply cannot be anything like a

‘divine conatus’. For, to recall, the current consensus is, on the one hand, that Spinoza’s

rejection of ends targets solely divine ends, and, on the other, that striving is a teleological

principle. Together, these two beliefs entail that God simply cannot be a “thing” that

strives, because that would be to ascribe ends to a being that does not act on ends. Hence

on this reading we must simply acknowledge on this point the existence of a fundamental

difference between the causal natures of modes and substance. However, a dismissal of the

possibility of a divine conatus on these particular causal grounds, implicit in the

contemporary scholarly consensus, has to be rejected. For, as we have seen in this Chapter,

there are clear textual and conceptual reasons to abandon the teleological conception of

striving that underlies this rejection. So if indeed Spinoza’s metaphysics should turn out to

have no room for a divine conatus, the explanation for this exclusion of God from the

compass of the doctrine cannot rest on any alleged distinction between domains in which

teleology does and does not apply.

To put our current dilemma in its simplest terms, we may wonder whether

intuitively, so to speak, it makes any sense to deny to an infinite and perfect being like

Spinoza’s God the causal power to continue in existence, and to produce effects befitting his

own essence. It would seem entirely uncontroversial to assert that Spinoza’s God necessarily

produces effects befitting his essence, which “preserve” him in existence. Of course, the

problem with this kind of argument is that our other intuitions may cut precisely the other

way. For example, it seems wrong to think of God – an infinite, perfect and atemporal

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being – as “striving” or even “persevering” in his existence, insofar as such terminology may

appear to connote change, perhaps even struggle, in time. As I noted above, however, we

should be wary of the connotations of the standard English translation of “conatus”,

especially when this philosophical idiom is not returned to its proper historical context. In

general, our ordinary intuitions are not a very reliable guide to Spinoza’s views. (Consider

for example his belief that all objects and persons are nothing but God’s properties. As

Curley famously put it, they seem to be of the “wrong logical type” [SM, 18] to play that

role.)

A much more promising route would be to object to the idea of a ‘divine conatus’ on

textual grounds. For indeed, the majority of Spinoza’s references to “striving” and

“perseverance” appear to have been made (explicitly or implicitly) in the context of finite

individuals.129 Spinoza’s justification in 3p6d for his thesis that “singular” things strive may

indeed be just that they are modifications and limitations of divine power, but this does not

mean that this demonstration cannot go through unless the power being limited is itself also

a striving. For one could contend that Spinoza’s view is that it is precisely this limitation

constitutive of finite things that renders divine causal power a “striving”, i.e. that limitation is

a necessary condition of striving.

129 (*) Cf. 1p24c; 2p45s; 3p6d; 3p8,d; 3p9,d,s; 3p12,d; 3p13d,s; 3p17d; 3p19d; 3p20d; 3p21d; 3p23d; 3p25; 3p26; 3p27c3,cd; 3p28; 3p29,d,s; 3p30s; 3p31s; 3p32,d; 3p33,d; 3p34d; 3p35d; 3p37d; 3p38d; 3p39,d; 3p40s,c2,cd,cs; 3p41s,cs; 3p42d; 3p43d; 3p44d,s; 3p50s; 3p51s; 3p54,d; 3p55d,s,cd; 3p57d; 3p58d; 3p59s; 3defaff1exp; 3defaff32exp; 3defaff34; 4p5,d; 4p18d,s; 4p20,d,s; 4p25d; 4p26,d; 4p34d; 4p35d,c2; 4p36d; 4p37d,altd,s1,s2; 4p45d; 4p47s; 4p50d,c,s; 4p52s; 4p57d,s; 4p59d; 4p60d; 4p63s; 4p70,d; 4p71d; 4p73d,s; 4App1, 4, 25, 32; 5p10d,s; 5p19d; 5p25; 5p28; 5p39s.

The overwhelming majority of the above passages from in Part 3 have to do with striving under the conditions of “imagining” something, where imagination is possible only for finite and corporeal individuals. In the next Chapter I also show that Spinoza attributes “mind [mens]” – which also appears in many of the above passages – exclusively to finite beings (in contrast to the “intellect [intellectus]” which is infinite.

However, contrast the general scope of statements about striving/perseverance in the following propositions: 3p6, 3p7,d; 4p22,d,c; and 4p25,d.

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However, on further reflection it is not at all obvious that the textual situation and

conceptual considerations so clearly favor the usual, narrower construal of the scope of the

conatus doctrine. Indeed, all of the various elements which, as we have seen in previous

sections, together compose Spinoza’s conatus doctrine seem to apply to God. To start with

the last objection first, there is nothing in Spinoza’s text to indicate that limitation proper to

finite things is a necessary condition of “striving” as such. Secondly, as we have seen,

striving involves a “necessary following” relation between any given essence and its

necessary properties. But clearly Spinoza also describes God in these terms.130 Thirdly,

although the demonstration of 3p6 explicitly mentions only “singular” things, 3p6 itself is

formulated in perfectly general terms: striving is supposed to be a universal characteristic,

pertaining to “each” or “any” thing (“unaquaeque res”); it is “each thing” that “strives to

persevere in its being”. And, as any reader of Spinoza knows, “thing [res]” is a perfectly

general metaphysical term that Spinoza does not hesitate to apply to God.131 So in speaking

about the striving of “each thing” in 3p6 Spinoza is arguably also speaking about divine

striving (as well as the striving of the infinite modes). Fourth, it is equally uncontroversial to

propose that Spinoza’s God is “in” himself – recall that according to Spinoza a “thing”

strives “as far as it is in itself [quantum in se est]” (3p6). But God qua substance is “in” himself

by definition (1def3) (indeed he is the only res entirely in itself, that is, entirely causally and

conceptually self-sufficient). Finally, perhaps the crowning piece of purely textual evidence

in favor of the idea of a divine conatus – a piece of evidence that to my knowledge has not

been noted by scholars – is that in the CM Spinoza explicitly states that God too

130 (*) Cf. e.g. 1p16. 131 (*) Cf. e.g. 2p1, 2p2 (II/86).

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“perseveres” by the “power” which “is nothing but his essence” (2.6; I/260).132 In the Ethics

the infinite divine conatus seems to be precisely what Spinoza describes in 1p16, when he

declares that “From the necessity of the divine nature there must follow infinitely many

things in infinitely many ways [Ex necessitate divinae naturae infinita infinitis modis…sequi debent]”.

(As Tschirnhaus aptly observes, 1p16 is “almost the most important proposition” of the first

Part of the Ethics [Ep. 82]). In the next Chapter we will explore in more detail Spinoza’s

reasoning behind the positing of this kind of infinite divine causal power that Spinoza asserts

in 1p16.

In conclusion, it seems to me that we must recognize what has not been recognized

by the great majority of Spinoza’s commentators, namely, that insofar as we achieve a more

adequate understanding of the causal nature of striving, there are excellent textual and

conceptual reasons to attribute striving to God, just as there are, as we saw earlier, excellent

textual and conceptual reasons not to treat striving as a teleological phenomenon. The

conclusion I would urge is that we must recognize that the scope of Spinoza’s conatus

doctrine is wider than the realm of finite things, and Spinoza’s God also is a thing that

strives. Hence the analysis of the nature of striving that I have offered in the preceding

sections in Part B must be understood to apply equally to the divine case.

From this perspective, we can reformulate in a more precise manner Spinoza’s

justification of finite striving in 3p7d: all finite things strive just because they are the limited

manifestations of divine striving.133 One can discern in this Spinozist picture the echoes of

132 One could object here that this passage merely shows that according to Spinoza God perseveres in existence, but not that he strives to persevere. But note that in fact Spinoza says here that God perseveres by his “power”, which is just what striving is (cf. 3p7d).

133 Spinoza’s grounding of striving of finite things in divine self-preservation in being would echo then Aquinas’s Aristotelian justification of the “natural” “desire” (understood teleologically) of all things “to be” and to “resist corrupting agents”, on the grounds that the “end” of any thing is

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the long-standing theological tradition according to which all finite creatures, in their

deficient ways, imitate, or are made in the image of, God's own being and power. Spinoza

offers us a radically ontologically immanent version of this theology: finite creatures are not

just like a transcendent God, they are the finite manifestations of God's own essence and

power, and the direct means and affections through which God exerts this power.

We must therefore regard the conatus doctrine as a doctrine established by Spinoza

already in 1p16, rather than in the string of propositions in Part 3 typically cited as the

location where Spinoza introduces this doctrine. Such a conclusion is arguably confirmed by

the fact that Spinoza repeatedly and explicitly relies on the idea of “perseverance”, which is a

central element of this doctrine, in the second half of Part 1 and in Part 2,134 as well as by the

fact that Spinoza offers his version of the principle of inertia, which I take to be grounded in

the more basic metaphysical phenomenon of striving, also prior to Part 3 (in 2L3d). But

such a conclusion about where the conatus doctrine is in fact introduced in the Ethics forces

us to reconsider the status of several other propositions in this treatise. Thus the upshot of

1p36 – which, to recall, states that every essence is a cause from which effects necessarily

follow – is to extend the conatus doctrine from the realm of divine causality as established in

1p16 to the realm of finite natures; accordingly, the demonstration of 1p36 grounds the

necessary production of effects by all “determinate and certain” things in the fact that they

all express divine causal power, precisely as this power is described in 1p16. In 3p6 Spinoza

deploys the very same demonstration to derive what he now explicitly refers to as “striving”,

determined by the “form” (or essential nature) of its cause: a thing’s self-preserving tendency is, according to Aquinas, an expression of its desire to become like God insofar as God is a “self-subsisting being”: “all things get their being from the fact that they are made like unto God, Who is subsisting being itself, for all things exist merely as participants in existing being. Therefore, all things desire as their ultimate end to be made like unto God.” (SCG 19.3)

134 (*) See e.g. 1p24c; 2p45s, cf. also 2L3c.

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from divine power.135 In short, according to Spinoza all finite modes strive because God’s

causal power itself has the form of a “necessary following from an essence”, that is, of

striving, and finite essences are nothing other than divine affections through which God

produces further effects.

The cluster of propositions in Part 3 of the Ethics to which commentators discussing

Spinoza’s notion of striving usually direct their attention (i.e. 3p4-3p13) are thus not, in my

view, intended by Spinoza to introduce a new doctrine, as is typically thought (and a fortiori

not an unsupported new doctrine, as is also alleged). The task of these proposition is much

more limited: it is to show why and how finite things in particular strive, to outline how

striving manifests itself in the course of existence that is peculiar to finite things, i.e. in

“duration [duratio]”. It is for this reason that 3p6 mentions only finite things in its

demonstration, and refers to “duration”, or the existence characteristic of finite things, in

the very next proposition.136 In short, this cluster of propositions in Part 3, which until now

have figured centrally in analyses of striving by commentators, must be treated as outlining

how striving manifests itself in a particular context, namely when it is instantiated by finite

things in duration, but not as the general and inaugural statement of the conatus doctrine

itself. Although to contemporary commentators the striving of finite individuals may be an

easier thesis to swallow than the idea of divine striving, in fact the justification Spinoza offers

135 The only difference between the two demonstrations is that 3p6d makes explicit what according to Spinoza is a self-evident truth: this is because 3p6d relies also on 3p4 and 5.

Similarly, the demonstration of 3p7 – which identifies striving with essence – pivots on 1p36. 136 The situation is similar with 3p8, which asserts that striving involves an “indefinite time”:

this proposition specifies the character of striving when it takes place in duration (it lasts “indefinitely”, precisely because a thing’s essence cannot bring about its own undoing). This does not, however, establish that all striving is intrinsically durational.

Note that later propositions in which Spinoza describes striving as taking place in duration all deal with our battles with the “passions”, under the constraints of merely “imaginary” knowledge, and for Spinoza all such things pertain to finite things and exist merely as long as we maintain the point of view of duration.

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in 3p6d for the existence of finite striving requires him, as we have seen, to call upon on

some of his most controversial metaphysical doctrines – in particular on his assertion of the

non-substantiality of finite things and on their immanence to God.

So much for the long-neglected divine conatus. Let me now say a few words

specifically about infinite modes and their relation to the conatus doctrine. One could of

course object against the idea of an infinite mode’s conatus on the grounds that Spinoza

never explicitly asserts the existence of anything of this sort. On the most superficial reading

of the text this is undoubtedly true: Spinoza never declares that an “infinite mode strives” in

so many words. However, other textual and conceptual considerations clearly push us

toward the conclusion that in fact each infinite mode must also be seen as endowed with an

infinite conatus (one that, like the divine conatus, will of course certainly differ – in its total

freedom from passivity, for example – from any finite striving). Consider for example the

nature of the so-called “mediate infinite modes”. As I have already repeatedly suggested

above, in cases where a particular finite essence is only a partial cause of a given effect, we

must view the relevant collection of finite essences as the total, adequate and formal cause of

the effect in question. But mediate infinite modes, qua totalities of all finite modes under

each attribute,137 are simply the limit case of such collections of essences. Moreover, Spinoza

repeatedly refers to divine “will” in his writings (also precisely in the context of the infinity

of effects that follow from it138) and, as we have seen, for Spinoza “will” just is striving

considered under the attribute of thought alone.

137 (*) Spinoza writes, “if we proceed in this way to infinity, we shall easily conceive that the whole of nature is one Individual, whose parts, i.e., all bodies, vary in infinite ways, without any change of the whole Individual” (27Ls; II/102)

138 (*) Cf. e.g. 1p32c: “will and intellect are related to God's nature as motion and rest are, and as are absolutely all natural things, which (by [1]p29) must be determined by God to exist and produce an effect in a certain way. For the will, like all other things, requires a cause by which it is

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Let me cite here four further and more general considerations in favor of seeing not

just the mediate but all infinite modes as entities endowed with a conatus. First of all,

Spinoza’s reasoning in 3p6d, in which as we saw earlier Spinoza derives the necessity of

striving from the fact of divine power, seems to apply just as well to infinite modes. For

infinite modes also “express” God’s power, and do not have anything in themselves by

which they could be “destroyed”; and these, as we have seen, are the two conditions of

striving that Spinoza postulates.139 Secondly, it is clear that infinite modes themselves are res

that have essences,140 and that from these essences effects follow. Thus for example Spinoza

describes the aforementioned infinite individual in 2L7s as undergoing infinite variations;

these variations, given that this individual is infinite and so by definition unlimited by any

thing else, must be regarded as the effects of this individual’s own essence. Third, some of

Spinoza’s statements about striving and perseverance appear to be about modes in general,

and not about finite modes specifically.141

Finally, because, as I shall argue in the next Chapter, according to Spinoza sub specie

aeternitatis strictly speaking only infinite things truly exist, a finite mode can be said to “strive”

only insofar as it is an indiscernible component of the infinite conatus of a mediate infinite

determined to exist and produce an effect in a certain way. And although from a given will, or intellect infinitely many things may follow, God still cannot be said, on that account, to act from freedom of the will…So will …is related to him in the same way as motion and rest, and all the other things which, as we have shown, follow from the necessity of the divine nature and are determined by it to exist and produce an effect in a certain way.”

139 One could object – echoing the above objection to the idea of a divine conatus – that 3p6d notes that singular things strive because they express God’s power “in a certain and determinate way,” which is a description applicable solely to finite things and so would consign striving solely to the realm of finite modes. But, to reiterate, I do not see any reason to conclude that this is an ineliminable or constitutive condition of striving, rather than a description of how striving manifests itself in the realm of finite things. We could perhaps conclude that Spinoza reserves the term “striving” for the manifestation of formal causal relations by limited res, but this would not change the fact that unlimited or infinite things would still manifest the very same kind of causal relations.

140 (*) Cf. e.g. 2L4-7. 141 (*) Cf. e.g. 3p6, 3p7,d; 4p22,d,c; and 4p25,d.

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mode. Fleshing out what this means exactly will have to wait for the next Chapter, but

already here I want to signal that the striving of infinite modes is the necessary condition of

there being anything like finite striving. In other words, the conatus doctrine can reflect a

genuine metaphysical truth only on the condition that it is not merely valid at the level of

finite modes.

Note that this equips us with a still further argument against the weaker

interpretation of Spinoza’s criticism of teleology, according to which Spinoza accepts the

existence of only finite ends. Such a position, as I just suggested and will show in detail in the

next Chapter, proves to be simply untenable in Spinoza’s metaphysics.

§9. “Actuality”

Before I turn to this issue of the status of finite things in Spinoza’s metaphysics

however, in this final section I want to attend to a question about the conatus doctrine that

has been left outstanding, namely the significance of the idea of “actuality” in the context of

that doctrine. We have arrived at this point in the investigation by pursuing the

consequences that Spinoza’s neglected identification of the conatus with the “essence” of a

thing has for how we understand the causal nature of the conatus. Thus far, all the evidence

indicates that we must understand the causality of the conatus on a non-teleological model.

In addition, as we have seen, our analysis of the causal nature of striving has suggested that

the conatus doctrine should be seen as applying to God’s essence, and the essences of

infinite modes, and not just finite modes. Until now, however, I have been bracketing from

discussion Spinoza’s qualification of the essence of the striving thing as “actual [actuosa]”.

(Recall that Spinoza’s original claim was that “The striving by which each thing strives to

persevere in its being is nothing but the actual essence of the thing” [3p7]). The question

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now facing us then is this: what difference does this qualification of the essence in question

as “actual” make to the account given thus far? The lack of attention to this little word from

commentators implies that it is of negligible philosophical interest.142 But in fact, as we shall

see in what follows, potentially a great deal hinges on how we understand this term. For one

could make a plausible – although I will show, ultimately unsuccessful argument – that

Spinoza’s invocation of actuality undermines the interpretation of the conatus doctrine that I

have proposed, changing its sense as well as excluding God from the scope of this doctrine.

So in this final section of the present Chapter I want to clarify Spinoza’s understanding of

the concept of “actuality” in order to demonstrate why it presents no threat to the

interpretation of striving that I have offered in the preceding sections.

“Actuality” is a somewhat treacherous notion in Spinoza’s corpus, insofar as it

admits of two different meanings. As we shall see in due course, on neither sense of the

term are teleological readings of the conatus doctrine tenable. However, these two different

meanings of “actuality” have drastically different consequences for another thesis I have

asserted in this Chapter, namely for the intelligibility of a divine conatus in Spinoza’s

142 Schmaltz is a commendable exception here: see his “Spinoza’s mediate infinite mode”, 212ff.

Also Curley acknowledges this term, insofar as he entitles one of the sections devoted to the conatus doctrine, “The Actual Essence of The Thing” (BGM, 112-113). However, he does not investigate the meaning of term ‘actual’ systematically; instead, he implicitly accords the meaning it has in ordinary discourse, equivalent to “in fact” (he writes, e.g. , of “the extent to which the individual actually does maintain itself” [ibid, 112]). Also without explicit justification, Curley asserts a link between the word “actual” and the idea of “activity” (cf. e.g., “Still, one way of reading 3p7 might be as a proposal to count as part of the essence of an individual any activity which can be understood to follow for its striving for self-preservation.” [ibid]). Insofar as Spinoza links his notion of “activity” to “adequate” ideas, however, this seems rather misleading.

Garrett also notes that Spinoza uses the phrase “actual essence”, but glosses the phrase rather unhelpfully: “the appetite to persevere in being is the “actual essence” of each human being – that is, the explanatory essence from which the various actual properties and actions of the human being follow…” (“Teleology in Spinoza”, 323).

Finally, Wolfson notes Spinoza’s use of this term, implying (wrongly I believe) that “actuality” is meant simply to rule fictional existence (Philosophy of Spinoza, 349-50).

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metaphysics. That “actuality” has two different meanings can be surmised from the way

Spinoza uses this term in the Ethics, but also from the following declaration, late in his

treatise:

We conceive things as actual in two ways: either insofar as we conceive them to exist in relation to a certain time and place,143 or insofar as we conceive them to be contained in God and to follow from the necessity of the divine nature. [Res duobus modis a nobis ut actuales concipiuntur, vel quatenus easdem cum relatione ad certum tempus et locum existere, vel quatenus ipsas in Deo contineri et ex naturae divinae necessitate consequi concipimus.] But the things [quae] we conceive in this second way as true, or real [verae seu reales], we conceive under a species of eternity (5p29s; II/298)

In other words, in the first sense of the term, everything that “follows” from God,

conceived from the point of view of eternity, is “actual” simply by virtue of being a

‘realization’, so to speak, of God’s causal potentia. In this sense, all modes, and all essences of

modes, are actual.144 In the second sense of the term, something is “actual” only if it exists

at a determinate “time and place”, that is, if it has a durational existence in space. The

second sense of “actuality” thus describes a subset of things to which the first sense applies.

What unites these two meanings of “actuality” is that in both cases we are dealing with what

follows from God’s essence, and actualizes the capacities for production that belong to God

essentially.145

143 (*) For Spinoza’s other use of the phrase “time and place” in the Ethics, also juxtaposing it to a view of things sub specie aeternitatis, cf. 5p37: “There is nothing in nature which is contrary to this intellectual Love [of God], or which can take it away. Dem.: This intellectual Love follows necessarily from the nature of the Mind insofar as it is considered as an eternal truth… Schol.: 4Ax1 [“There is no singular thing in nature than which there is not another more powerful and stronger. Whatever one is given, there is another more powerful by which the first can be destroyed”] concerns singular things insofar as they are considered in relation to a certain time and place [res singulares respicit quatenus cum relatione ad certum tempus et locum considerantur].” (II/303-4)

144 But not only modes, as we shall shortly see. Moreover, as we shall see in the next Chapter, finite modes will be actual only

insofar as they are rationally indiscernible components of infinite modes. 145 In this sense Spinoza also juxtaposes “actual essence” with “formal essence [essentia

formalis]”, which is this essence as contained in God’s essence (2p8c; II/90-1).

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So we are now faced with the following conundrum: which of these two senses of

“actuality” does Spinoza have in mind when he describes striving as the “actual essence” of a

thing? For two different scenarios are possible.146 On the one hand, Spinoza may mean that

any essence that “follows” from God – is caused by God – must by virtue of this fact alone

also be considered a “conatus.” On the other hand, Spinoza may mean that an essence is a

“conatus” only when this essence exists in space and time.

Before we attempt to decide which sense of “actuality” Spinoza has in mind in the

context of the conatus doctrine, let’s note the following consequence of such a decision:

Spinoza’s qualification of the essence in question as “actual” gives us every reason to worry

about the tenability of the claim that we can include divine essence in the scope of the

conatus doctrine. For it’s not clear that God’s essence can be regarded as “actual” in either of

the senses of the word.147 This is because as an eternal substance God manifestly cannot

have an “actual essence” in the durational sense. And one might expect that God cannot

satisfy the other criterion of “actuality” either – that is, that God’s essence cannot be

“actual” in the sense of being “contained in God and…follow[ing] from the necessity of the

divine nature”. For this sense of “actuality” seems to pertain to modes alone. (Indeed,

Spinoza defines Natura naturata – i.e., all modes – precisely as what “follows from” divine

nature [1p29s; II/71].)148 In other words, it seems that even without discovering which of the

146 Note that appealing to Spinoza’s invocation of “existence” in the context of striving – as he says, things strive to persevere in existence – does not help solve the dilemma, for “existence” is for Spinoza a term equivocal in as “actuality”: existence means either following from the nature of God, or durational existence (cf. 2p45s; II/127).

147 Should we try to look to Spinoza’s influences for some guidance on this point, we can note here that Descartes for example does predicate “actual existence” of God; however, he does this in the decidedly non-Spinozistic context of the assumption that some existences are merely “possible” while others “necessary” (First Repl.; AT VII 116-117).

148 (*) Cf. also: an “actual intellect” is an intellect “referred to Natura naturata, not to Natura naturans” (1p31; II/71).

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two senses of “actuality” is in fact relevant to Spinoza’s conatus doctrine, we must already

conclude that God’s essence cannot meet either criterion. And so it would appear that here

we have finally stumbled upon the kind of fundamental difference between the natures of

the essences of modes on the one hand and the essence of God on the other that does

succeed in precluding divine essence from being a “conatus”, despite the fact that the

‘structure’ of God's causality very precisely mirrors the causal structure of striving. (Perhaps

we could at most say that God qua modified, or qua cause of modes, is “actual”. But this

would not amount to grasping God’s own essence – conceiving “through itself” (1def3) the

essence of the substance – as a “conatus”.)

However, I want to suggest that this conclusion that God’s essence cannot be

“actual” in either of sense of the term is too hasty. For even if it is undeniable that the

temporal sense of actuality cannot pertain to the divine essence, this essence is indeed

“actual” for Spinoza in the other sense of this term. For it is not only modes that “follow”

from, and are “in”, divine essence, but also divine essence itself: “substance”, as we have

seen, is for Spinoza precisely what “is in itself [in se est]” (1def3).149 Spinoza’s God is after all

causa sui: the divine essence is a cause of itself, as well as of divine existence; that is, it follows

from itself.150

In short, at least on the non-temporal construal of “actuality”, God’s essence can also

be considered to be “actual”. It remains to be seen however, whether this entitles us to

149 I’m grateful to Michael Della Rocca for a conversation about this point. 150 The existence of God follows from God’s essence (1def1), since the essence and existence

of God are “one and the same” (1p20) (more precisely, I take it, they are only “rationally distinct”), God’s essence also follows from God’s essence. If the divine essence did not follow from divine essence, it would either have to be caused – and explained – by something else (in which case, contrary to Spinoza’s definition, God would not be a “substance”), or the divine essence would be a brute fact, violating Spinoza’s commitment to the Principle of Sufficient Reason. I return to this Principle at length in the next Chapter.

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include God among the things that strive, for we still don’t whether this non-temporal sense

of actuality is the one intended by Spinoza when he equates striving with the “actual

essence” of a thing. Moreover, God’s inclusion in the scope of the conatus doctrine is not

the only thing that hinges on this question. For, if the temporal sense of actuality proves to be

the right one, this would not only rule out the possibility of divine conatus; more generally, it

would decisively alter the meaning of the conatus doctrine itself. For we would have to say

that for Spinoza, sub specie aeternitatis, the causal natures of God’s essence and the essences

of finite things are the same: they are both expressed by the atemporal schema according to

which this causality must be understood as a certain conceptual dependency between an

essence and its necessary properties. But in the case of finite modes like ourselves who,

unlike God, exist also in time, our essences and their effects could be conceived not just

under the species of eternity, in their eternal truth, but also in their temporal unfolding, and

only then such a essence could be considered to be a “conatus”. That is, an “essence” would

count as a “conatus” only when the effects of an essence would “follow” from this essence

not just as a matter of conceptual necessity, but also succeed each other in time – that is,

only when the “necessary following” relation linking an essence and its necessary properties

would manifest itself as a temporal unfolding.151 All that an essence of a finite thing contains

or implies eternally would evolve successively in time, and only this would constitute the

conatus of a thing. Furthermore, neither 1p16 nor 1p36 which are concerned with purely

causal relations and are not limited to finite things could any longer be regarded as

statements of the conatus doctrine.

151 Cf. Kant’s depiction of the role time plays in transforming the purely logical concept of causality – the relation of ground to consequent – into real causality in KrV (A144/B184).

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This durational interpretation of the nature of Spinozistic “striving” would have

significant repercussions for the status of the conatus doctrine itself. For according to

Spinoza the true grasp of the nature of something presents the thing as it is in its eternal

necessity, and so excludes all temporal references. So if occurrence in time is indeed a

necessary and ineliminable feature of striving, we have to concede that from the point of

view of the true nature of things – the point of view of eternity – nothing strives, strictly

speaking. More precisely, in grasping a given thing’s striving in its true nature, all we could

say truthfully is that we are dealing with an essence from which certain effects necessarily

eternally follow. In other words, the conatus doctrine, insofar as it is supposed to latch onto

something over and above this relation of necessary following could not be asserted as a true

metaphysical doctrine by Spinoza.

What if, on the contrary, the relevant sense of “actuality” turns out to be the non-

temporal one? In such a case, the essence of any thing would have to be considered “actual”

and hence a “conatus”, simply by virtue of following from, and being in, God. Hence all

“things” – all that has an “essence”152– would strive, including God. To say that something

strives would be simply to pick out the fact that the essence of any thing necessarily gives

rise to certain effects. (Thus, however strange that may sound to our ears, even a triangle

would have to be said to “strive”, insofar as its essence gives rise to necessary properties – in

an exemplary fashion.153) On this atemporal interpretation of “actuality”, in short, the

conatus doctrine would be not a limited principle unique to finite things (perhaps even to

rational agents like ourselves), as most commentators claim. Rather, it would amount to a

152 For the convertibility of “thing” and “essence” see 2def2. I come back to this definition in more detail in the next Chapter.

153 This is of course complicated by the fact that a triangle is not a real being, but Spinoza does think that even such beings of reason have essences (they are definable in their true nature).

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universal metaphysical doctrine, one Spinoza asserts already in 1p16 and 1p36. The doctrine

would be a purely causal doctrine (in the sense that it would make no reference to temporal

considerations) in Spinoza’s formal sense of causality, and it would articulate an atemporal

schema of causation valid for all essences, a schema according to which this causality must

be understood as a type of conceptual dependence between an essence and its propria. And

given that Spinoza’s ontology is exhausted by essences and their necessary properties, as

these manifest themselves in different kinds of intelligible being (i.e., under different

“attributes”) we would be entitled to see the conatus doctrine as articulating the true nature

of causation in general in Spinoza’s metaphysics, reiterating that Spinozistic causation has to

be understood on a formal-cause model. In the case of finite modes like ourselves who,

unlike God, also have a temporal existence,154 our striving would also manifest itself as a

successive unfolding in time, but this temporal appearance of striving would not exhaust the

true meaning of striving, nor could we – given its intrinsic temporal references – have a true

idea of this appearance sub specie aeternitatis.

These then are the two possible and competing pictures of striving, depending on

how we render the notion of “actuality” Spinoza employs in the context of the conatus

doctrine. What proof is there that Spinoza conceives of “actuality” in one sense rather than

the other? I think that textual and conceptual considerations favor the non-durational

construal of this term. This is because (on the assumption of a continuity of Spinoza’s

thought on this subject), as we saw in the previous section, Spinoza explicitly asserts that

God “perseveres” in the CM; this suggests that duration cannot be a necessary condition of

“striving to persevere”, as God is outside all temporality. Furthermore, the fact that on the

154 However, as I argue in more detail in the next Chapter, this temporal existence is not one that is in fact intelligible from the point of view of a metaphysical account.

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atemporal reading the formula “actual essence” is strictly speaking redundant – since, given

Spinoza’s repudiation of unrealized possibles, every “essence” is “actual” – explains why

Spinoza often fails to mention “actuality” when identifying “striving” and “essence”.155

Finally, and most importantly, as we saw in the course of this Chapter, all of Spinoza’s key

pronouncements about the nature of striving appeal to purely causal, conceptual, and

atemporal considerations, at no point invoking duration as a necessary feature of striving.

However, there are several objections to this atemporal construal of “actuality” that

it seems possible to make. First of all, there is a historical point to be made: the notion of

striving as something that takes place essentially in relation to a “time and place” would align

Spinoza’s views with the views of other Early Moderns who greatly influenced his thinking,

namely Descartes and Hobbes. Both of these thinkers asserted in some form or another

that things strive, and for both of them this striving had to do with how the current state of

a body moving in time across space is related to its subsequent states.156 But there are also

textual considerations, and considerations from the internal consistency of the Ethics itself,

that seem to favor a temporal interpretation of this term. Thus secondly, the temporal

meaning of “actuality” appears to be suggested by Spinoza’s descriptions of striving in his

early CM, which explicitly associates striving, “duration”, “actuality” and finite things:

Spinoza writes that “Duration is the attribute under which we conceive the existence of created

things, in so far as they persevere in their own actuality” (CM 1.4; my ital). Third, in the Ethics,

the proposition that immediately follows upon Spinoza’s description of striving as “actual

155 (*) Cf. e.g. 3p54d, 4p20d; 4p25d. 156 An intrinsically durational sense of the conatus, or of “preserving” in existence, would

also align Spinoza’s views with those not just of Descartes but also with those of some of his Scholastic predecessors. Wolfson e.g. notes that the term "perseverance" was often used by the Scholastics in the context of discussing “duration”, and even in their definitions of duration (The Philosophy of Spinoza, 357).

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essence” declares explicitly that striving “involves…an indefinite time [tempus…indefinitum].”

(3p8; II/147). Fourth, the temporal construal of the meaning of “actuality” does not render

the key phrase “actual essence” redundant, as it would be on the non-temporal reading.

Finally and relatedly, only the restriction of the conatus doctrine to duration could explain it

seems Spinoza’s assertion of both 1p16 and 1p36 on the one hand, and the group of

propositions in Part 3 traditionally recognized as establishing the conatus doctrine on the

other. If striving takes place in duration, this clears Spinoza of the charges of asserting the

same doctrine at two different points in his system and thus of an unmotivated redundancy

in his exposition. For, on the temporal reading, there is a clear difference between the

conatus doctrine, with its limited applicability to modes, and asserted in Part 3 on the one

hand, and the universally valid but purely causal principles articulated in 1p36 and 1p16 on

the other. Moreover, such a restriction of striving to duration would also explain the

differences between these two sets of propositions: namely, it explains why Spinoza does not

use the term “conatus” in the propositions in Part 1, and why he mentions only “finite

things” in his demonstration of 3p6.

I don’t think, however, than any of the objections to the atemporal reading of

“actuality” offered here are conclusive, or even particularly strong. For let’s look at them

one by one. First, Descartes’s and Hobbes’s views, although undoubtedly influential on

Spinoza, are hardly reliable guides to each specific doctrine he puts forth (it suffices to

mention here perhaps Descartes’s substance dualism or Hobbes’s materialism). Moreover,

Spinoza offers his version of the principle of inertia at an earlier point in the Ethics (in 2L3d),

what suggests that the relevant propositions in Part 3 have a different function from the

cognate principles asserted by Descartes and Hobbes. Secondly, to begin addressing the

textual and consistency considerations, it should be noted that the point of the CM passage

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is to explain what “duration” is (and not what striving in general or as such is), so naturally

insofar as the passage mentions striving it will only describe the striving of created things in

duration, and not the striving of their eternal Creator. Thirdly, even if the phrase “actual

essence” were redundant (which in itself is not a very formidable objection as far as

philosophical objections go), this is in line with Spinoza’s general strategy of using as

synonyms multiple terms which form part of a traditional philosophical vocabulary in order

to subject them to a reductive redefinition (think for example of the interchangeability of

virtue” and “power” in Spinoza’s framework), or in order to make merely “rational

distinctions” that lack ontological counterparts (think of the equivalence of “attribute” and

“substance”); retaining such terminological labels at least in part serves to map Spinoza’s

metaphysical decisions onto those of his predecessors. In his view indeed, all power or

potentia is also in fact necessarily realized or “actual”, but he can still make a rational, albeit

not an ontological, distinction between regarding an essence as a potentia – as cause capable

of certain effects – and regarding it from the point of view of all that in fact “follows” from

it – i.e. as an “actual” essence. As Spinoza remarks on a related point, “I speak…of actual

intellect [intellectu actu] …not because I concede that there is any potential intellect [intellectum

potentia], but because… I wanted to speak only…of the intellection itself [ipsa…intellectione]”

(1p31s; II/72): in Spinoza’s view, an intellect qua intellect necessarily in fact thinks all that it is

capable of thinking (contrary to any theologies according to which God does not produce all

that God apprehends as possible). Similarly, to speak of an “actual essence” is to speak of

essence “itself”, not to concede that there is any essence that is not “actual”.

Finally, although a charge of the larger expository ‘redundancy’ in the Ethics is also

not a very alarming one, someone who makes this kind of objection in reference to the

relation between Parts 1 and 3 of the Ethics would be right to insist that we can expect there

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to be some difference in content between the relevant propositions of Part 1 and those of

Part 3. But, as noted above, a temporal reading of actuality, and so of the conatus doctrine

itself, is not necessary to block the possibility of such redundancy: the difference between

these two sets of propositions can equally be a consequence of the fact that the notion of

striving does not apply to God, as of the fact that the passages in Part 3 have the more

specific task of describing how striving manifests itself in duration, when instantiated by

finite things. (I have suggested this latter reading above.)

In short, the objections to the atemporal construal of “actuality” appear to be quite

weak. So I conclude that in identifying the conatus of a thing with its “actual essence”,

Spinoza intended to assert that any essence that is also is a conatus.

To return, in closing, to one of the central problems of this Chapter – namely the

tenability of teleological interpretations of the conatus doctrine – I think we must say this:

even if we don't decide the meaning of Spinozistic “actuality” one way or the other, we must

nonetheless recognize that on neither interpretation of this term can the conatus be plausibly

made into a teleological doctrine. For if actuality is a non-temporal designation, as I have

proposed, then the conatus is nothing over and above the eternal following of properties

from essences, and so establishes a causal schema valid for all essences in which there is no

room for ends. Similarly, for the durational sense of “actuality” to entail end-directedness,

we would have to claim that in Spinoza's system teleology is necessarily introduced together

with duration, such that when we add to the universal causal schema of effects necessarily

following from essences a specifically durational determination, we are thereby also

necessarily introducing ends. On this reading, Spinoza’s metaphysics would have room for

at least finite ends after all. However, as I already stated, I don’t think it is very plausible to

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argue that for a post-Cartesian like Spinoza a relation that involves time ipso facto also

necessarily involves ends.

§10. Spinoza’s non-metaphysical teleology

In this brief concluding section, I want to say a few words about those aspects of

Spinoza’s views on teleology which, as noted in §1, fall outside the scope of an analysis of his

causal metaphysics strictly speaking, and so outside the scope of the present project. More

precisely, I want to say a few words about Spinoza’s continued use of teleological language,

about his apparent endorsement of teleology in moral philosophy, and finally about the

various more general motivations (whether from phenomenological evidence or from

assumptions about what it means to think) that scholars may have for trying to rehabilitate

final causes within Spinoza’s metaphysics, motivations which are not rooted in a

consideration of Spinoza’s metaphysical doctrines, which formed my sole focus in this

Chapter. My comments here will form merely a programmatic sketch, explaining how I see

all the pieces – metaphysical and non-metaphysical – of Spinoza’s views on teleology falling

into place together; but I will not argue in detail for my claims.

First of all, it is an indisputable fact that despite his rejection of a teleological

metaphysics, Spinoza continues to use ostensibly teleological language in the Ethics. (Thus for

example in the Preface to Part 4 Spinoza invokes an “ideal model [exemplar]” of human

nature [II/206], and repeatedly refers to the “will [voluntas]” and to our “highest good

[summum bonum]”.) However, when Spinoza uses such concepts – which at first blush can

indeed appear to presume the existence of ends in Nature – in my view these concepts are

endowed by Spinoza with reformed, fully rational (by his criteria) meanings, meanings that

would be valid within his own metaphysical framework, and thus would find room within

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what he takes to be a true description of Nature. We came across an instance of this general

terminological strategy earlier, when we saw Spinoza redefine an “end” as an “appetite”

(4def7), and again, in his reduction of “will” to striving. In similar fashion, Spinoza’s claims

about the ideal “model” of human nature are, I would contend, purely conditional or

hypothetical claims about an individual’s causal capacities, a representation of the individual’s

existence and effects in the idealized (and in reality unattainable) conditions of freedom from

all passivity, in a state of pure activity and causal autonomy.157 The problem of

understanding the true meaning of Spinoza’s ostensibly teleological statements is thus a

problem of their semantic status: apparently teleological notions within the Ethics do refer to

genuine entities and relations in Spinoza’s non-teleological metaphysical framework, and so

are indeed capable of being true, but to understand them correctly we must further elucidate

them.158

Next, let me say a few words about why the various objections to a non-teleological

reading of Spinoza’s metaphysics, made on non-metaphysical grounds and enumerated in §1,

fail to undermine such a reading.

157 Cf. e.g. Spinoza’s claim that “we desire to form an idea of man, as a model of human nature which we may look to…But the main thing to note is that when I say that someone passes from a lesser to a greater perfection, and the opposite, I do not understand that he is changed from one essence, or form, to another. For example, a horse is destroyed as much if it is changed into a man as if it is changed into an insect. Rather, we conceive that his power of acting, insofar as it is understood through his nature, is increased or diminished” (4Pref; II/208).

Hence in the later Parts of the Ethics this model repeatedly reappears in the guise of a “free man [homo liber]”: “freedom”, for Spinoza, is nothing other than causal self-determination (1def7). Cf. e.g. “we shall easily see what the difference is between a man who is led only by an affect, or by opinion, and one who is led by reason. For the former, whether he will or no, does those things he is most ignorant of, whereas the latter complies with no one's wishes but his own, and does only those things he knows to be the most important in life, and therefore desires very greatly. Hence, I call the former a slave, but the latter, a free man.” (4p66s; II/260)

158 In other words, Spinoza’s teleological pronouncements can be regarded as essentially incomplete, for we have to specify a further operation that we must perform on them to transform them into true claims.

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First of all, Spinoza would not regard an appeal to phenomenological data – according to

which purportedly we are end-directed beings – as sufficient grounds for drawing a

metaphysical conclusion. We saw evidence of this dismissive attitude repeatedly: in the

course of Spinoza’s arguments in the first Appendix, our ordinary self-understanding as an

end-directed being entered his discussion only qua consequence of our ignorance of the

causal reality of our own actions and desires, and qua cause of further errors. In the Preface

to Part 4, our “conscious” self-understanding as acting on ends, and what we say about our

own actions, were once again depicted as failing to furnish us with a true picture of the

underlying causal relations. In short, ordinary self-understanding, phenomenological data,

have for Spinoza no ineliminable place in a true and metaphysically rigorous picture of

Nature. But this does not mean that Spinoza would deny that, or indeed would wish to alter

the fact that, a teleological way of thinking often informs our ordinary self-consciousness.

To turn to the second kind of motivation, Spinoza would reject as philosophically

inadequate any conception of the nature of mind and agency that would posits ends as an

ineliminable elements of all human rationality or all human action. According to Spinoza, to

think is just to infer properties from essences (whether the essences of particular res or the

essences of abstract ideas). Indeed, as we saw above, Spinoza explicitly categorizes “will”

and “desire” as nothing more than ways of considering the phenomenon of striving. a

“volition” is just a certain, essentially necessary series of ideas; a “desire” a series of

necessary consequences of an individual's essence regarded under the attributes of the

extension and thought together, and insofar as we are “conscious” of these consequences.

Likewise Spinoza would reject as philosophically inadequate the suggestion that, in

metaphysical strictness, truth is an end for his own account in the Ethics. If Spinoza’s

account indeed attains to any truth, we must regard this truth – this correspondence of the

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“objective reality” of Spinoza’s ideas to the “formal reality” of Nature159 – as a necessary

product of the causes that have determined Spinoza’s thinking in specific ways.

These kinds of philosophical commitments, concerning the nature of mindedness

and agency, may certainly be enough of a reason to some readers to reject any reading of

Spinoza’s causal doctrines that like mine denies his tolerance of ends. But I do believe that

these indeed are his commitments, and hence that when we impute to him the view that the

metaphysics (and not just the phenomenology) of human rationality and agency require

action on ends we import into his philosophical framework premises that are foreign to it.

To turn to the final possible motivation for a weaker reading of Spinoza’s criticism

of teleology, the alleged tension between the metaphysical and moral commitments of

Spinoza’s philosophy, is not to be dissipated by readmitting final causes into his metaphysics.

Spinoza indeed offers us in the Ethics an ideal model of human nature, but as noted earlier,

he redefines this model as a conditional claim about the causal capacities of a specific

individual essence. Similarly, he adopts the notion of the “true good”, and even of the

“highest good”, but reduces both to claims about causal autonomy (since the “good”,

according to Spinoza, is whatever lets us become like the model [4Pref; II/207]). As already

noted, this is a symptom of a larger philosophical strategy Spinoza employs, one that

explains how he can endorse a non-teleological metaphysics of morals but nonetheless use

the traditional conceptual apparatus and language of moral and religious ends. Such

metaphysical and moral commitments may at first glance have appeared to be contradictory.

But this ostensible tension between them is dissipated when we recognize, as I already noted

in relation to Spinoza’s continued use of teleological terminology specifically, that Spinoza

preserves the language and many of the conceptual interconnections of traditional moral

159 (*) Cf. e.g. 1ax6 for this conception of truth.

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philosophy while endowing the terms – such as that of an ideal “model” of human nature,

“freedom”, “virtue” and “goodness”– with reformed meanings, valid within his own

metaphysics, ones capable of forming part of a true description of Nature. His moral-

philosophical project thus has to be seen also as an attempt to systematically redefine

traditional moral philosophical notions, in accordance with the demands of the kind of

thought that can represent what is “true”.160 Spinoza’s “ethics” – his doctrines about the

nature of will, desire, goodness, virtue and freedom – are in short a collection of objectively true

doctrines.161 It is in fact a metaphysics in content, and, more precisely that branch of

metaphysics that is concerned with the phenomenon, and conditions of the possibility, of

causal autonomy; this what attainment of virtue and freedom signifies for Spinoza.

This kind of austere conception of the project of moral philosophy as a purely

descriptive metaphysics has proved not to be enough of an “ethics” for some. As Leibniz

already complained, Spinoza grants God only infinite power, but neither goodness nor

wisdom; we can add to this that Spinoza grants us no virtue or freedom beyond a finite

degree of causal power. But Spinoza’s contention is that to understand moral philosophy in

this manner is the only way to rehabilitate and retain a moral philosophy as a project of

veridical thought. In redefining traditional moral concepts, he wants to show us the true

natures of phenomena which thus far other moral philosophers dissertating about “virtue”

and “freedom” have glimpsed only – as he says in another context – “as if through a cloud”

(2p7s; II/90).

160 For a different reading of Spinoza’s moral philosophy, one that stresses his debt to the Hellenistic ethical tradition cf. e.g. James, “Spinoza the Stoic”.

161 Not everyone agrees that Spinoza’s moral philosophy is supposed to be true: for example, Carriero writes that “the (normative) ‘idea of man’ is not something found in nature but a practical guide or model that we set up for ourselves” (“On the Relationship between Mode and Substance in Spinoza’s Metaphysics”, 272).

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CHAPTER 4: SUBSTANCE’S INFINITE EFFECTS

PART A. THE PROBLEM OF SPINOZA’S ‘ACOSMISM’

§1. Introduction

The cause of [Spinoza’s] death was consumption, from which he had long been a sufferer; this was in harmony with his system of philosophy, according to which all particularity and individuality pass away in the one substance. – Hegel, Lectures on the History of Philosophy, 3.254

The previous two Chapters aimed to throw some light on the kind of cause Spinoza’s

substance is, both in its causal capacity qua substance and insofar as it also produces effects by

means of its properties or modifications. In this Chapter, I want to pose the question of what

precisely this cause causes. As we saw in Chapter 2, for Spinoza substance is causa sui: it exists on

account of the coherence of its own essence.1 But for reasons we shall explore in detail in what

follows, it is not obvious that this substance can be said to cause any thing else, in addition to its

own existence and essence.2 Indeed, for many centuries, readers of Spinoza’s Ethics believed that a

key to Spinoza’s metaphysics was his “acosmism”,3 or his entity-acosmism4 – that is, his denial of the

1 As I noted in Chapter 2, regrettably the self-causation of substance is a feature of Spinoza’s causal

picture that I do not have the space to investigate here in detail, beyond the way it bears on the issue of formal causation. In particular, a fuller account of Spinoza’s doctrine of causa sui would have to show that and how Spinoza justifies his claim that the definition of substance is indeed coherent.

2 Self-causation must apply both to God's existence and his essence, otherwise his essence would not have a cause/reason, and so would contravene Spinoza’s commitment to the PSR. 3 (*) For Maimon’s use of this term to describe Spinoza’s philosophy, see note 6. For Hegel’s use, cf. e.g.: “[Spinoza’s] system, as it holds that there is properly speaking no world, at any rate that the world has no positive being, should rather by styled Acosmism” (EL §151); “Spinozism might really just as well or even better have been termed Acosmism, since according to its teaching it is not to the world, finite existence, the universe, that reality and permanency are to be ascribed, but rather to God alone as the substantial. Spinoza maintains that there is no such thing as what is known as the world; it is merely a form of God, and in and for

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reality of the world of finite things, and his decision to reserve the sole claim to true existence for

the one,5 infinite substance. This interpretation of Spinoza was favored by a whole generation of

German Idealists (for example, by Maimon6, Jacobi,7 Hegel, and Schelling8), as well as, in their wake,

by British and Scottish Idealists (for instance, by Joachim9, Caird,10 and McTaggart11).12 All of these

itself it is nothing. The world has no true reality… Therefore the allegations of those who accuse Spinoza of atheism are the direct opposite of the truth; with him there is too much God…nature and the individual disappear in this same identity” (LHP 3.281-2).

Cf. also Kojève’s allusion to the “acosmism of Parmenides-Spinoza” (Introduction to the Reading of Hegel 109, fn 6; orig. ital.; cf. 123-125).

4 To be clear, Spinoza himself does not use the term “monism”. The term seems to have made its first appearance in 1721 in the preface to the 2nd ed. of Christian Wolff’s writings Vernünfftige Gedancken von Gott, der Welt und der seele des Menschen, auc allen Dingen überhaubt (Laerke, “Spinoza’s Monism? What monism,” MS 2). However, prior to Wolff Leibniz of course uses both “monad” and the Greek monas (cf. e.g. Principles of Nature and Grace, 1).

5 I will not discuss in what sense it is appropriate within Spinoza’s framework to describe substance as “one”, an issue that any discussion of Spinoza’s ‘monism’ will inevitably raise. Although Spinoza criticizes numbers as mere aids to the imagination, reliant in comparison and universal ideas (cf. e.g. CM I.6 [I/245-6]; Ep. 50; cf. also Descartes, Pr I.58), it is also clear from Spinoza’s own repeated use of this term in reference to substance (cf. e.g. 1p8s2 [II/51]; 1p10s [II/52]; 1p14c1; KV 1.2.[17] [I/23]; KV 2.22.[4] [1/101]; CM II.2 [I/252-3]) that there is nonetheless a sense of oneness, unity and especially “uniqueness” that Spinoza does consider applicable to substance and that can be distinguished from the oneness that refers to comparison and universals.

6 (*) Maimon writes that according to Spinoza “all so-called beings besides [the “single substance”] being merely its modes, that is, particular limitations of its attributes. …In this system unity is real, but multiplicity is merely ideal.…the existence of the world is denied [wird...das Dasein der Welt geleugnet]. Spinoza's [system] ought therefore to be called rather the acosmic system” (An Autobiography, 113-14; ital. in the orig.).

7 Jacobi alleges that for Spinoza finite things are nonentities we merely imagine to be genuine beings, and that for finite things to follow in Spinoza’s system is contrary to Spinoza’s commitment to the PSR: “[Spinoza] established that with each and every coming-to-be in the infinite, not matter how one dresses it up in images, with each and every change in the infinite, something is posited out of nothing. He therefore rejected any transition from the infinite to the finite.” (Concerning the Doctrine of Spinoza in Letters to Herr Moses Mendelssohn [hereafter, CDS], 187-8; 217-8; ital. in the orig.)

8 (*) See e.g. his Philosophical Letters on Dogmatism and Criticism, Letter VII. 9 (*) Joachim writes, e.g., “the particularity of the particular things…seems to vanish in the system.

Completely real and eternal they may be [as “expressions of God’s power”], but individually distinct they are not. In the timeless actuality of the modal system, in the completeness of ‘natura naturata’, there is no individual ‘essentia’ or ‘existentia’ except that of the whole system. …Individuality of essence and existence and existence belongs in any real sense to God, and to God alone. …” (Study, 78; my ital.); “To think the universe in the spirit of Spinoza., is…to grasp its multiplicity in so coherent and transparent an apprehension that the multiplicity transmutes itself in the process into absolute unity” (ibid, 102); “Spinoza’s Substance is one (not as a unity of diverse but related elements, but) as a unity which has overcome and taken into itself the distinctness of its diverse elements, and this absorption is so complete that in it there remain no elements, no distinctness, no articulation. How in detail this is accomplished we are not told, nor is it fair to demand an explanation of this kind” (ibid, 109).

10 (*) Caird writes, e.g. “as all differences vanish in [substance], so no differences can proceed from or be predicated of it. It not only contains in it no principle of self-determination, but it is itself the negation of

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thinkers held that Spinoza either intentionally deprives finite things of reality or that his metaphysics

simply lacks the necessary conceptual resources to justify the claim that finite individuals are real

from the point of view of veridical thought.13 And so Hegel, for example, declares that “For

Spinoza…no being is ascribed to the finite…strictly there is only God, there is no world at all…the

finite has no genuine actuality;”14 for Spinoza’s substance is “a dark shapeless abyss which engulfs all

definite content as radically null”.15 Indeed precisely this, in Hegel’s eyes, “constitutes the grandeur

of Spinoza’s manner of thought…that he is able to renounce all that is determinate and particular,

and restrict himself to the One, giving heed to this alone.”16

all determinations.” (Spinoza, 140)

11 (*) See McTaggart’s review of Joachim’s Study (hereafter, Review). Cf. also Russell: “Spinoza's metaphysic is the best example of what may be called 'logical

monism' - the doctrine, namely, that the world as a whole is a simple substance, none of whose parts are logically capable of existing alone. The ultimate basis for this view is the belief that every proposition has a single subject and a single predicate, which leads to the conclusion that relations and plurality are illusory” (.A History of Western Philosophy, 600).

12 (*) Cf. also Schopenhauer’s comment that Spinoza was a “reviver” of “the Eleatics” (Parerga and Paralipomena, 77), and the following 1786 text by H. A. Pistorius, which draws a (dubious) analogy between the illusory nature of the manifoldness of things in Spinoza’s system, and the (allegedly illusory) nature of Kantian “appearances”: “[for Kant] everything manifold, which is represented as simultaneously existent in space as successive in time, …is mere illusion. …[I]n the actual objective world there is room for neither succession nor manifoldness… All this finds its place only in the sensible world, not in the intelligible world, is only appearance and illusion, as much as the [figment of the] imagination that we take ourselves for actual substances. Rather, there is, provided overall that something exists, only one sole substance, and this is the sole thing in itself, the sole noumenon, namely the intelligible or objective world. …Thus according to this [Kantian] theory of the apparent and the real, the ideas of reason are and must be specified in exactly the same way as Spinoza specified them. For him, as is known, the world is the sole substance… [O]ne will say, these are inferences, and indeed inferences which present Mr. Kant’s theory in a malicious light.” (Review of Erläuterungen über des Herrn Professor Kant Critik der reinen Vernunft von Joh. Schultze; cited in Franks, All or Nothing, 94-6, trans. Franks).

13 There is obviously an important difference between these two claims. However for the purposes of this Chapter I am treating these as on one side of the main interpretative dispute, since my intention is to show both that Spinoza upholds the existence of other entities besides substance and that his metaphysics has the resources to defeat acosmic interpretations.

14 (*) Lectures on the Philosophy of Religion (hereafter, LPR), 1.432. 15 (*) Encyclopedia Logic (hereafter, EL), §151. 16 (*) Lectures on the History of Philosophy (hereafter, LHP), 3.258. (*) Cf. also e.g.: “The simple thought of Spinoza’s idealism is this: The true is simply and solely the

one substance…and only this absolute unity is reality, it alone is God. …[I]t is just what τό ŏv was to the Eleatics… this ether of the One Substance, in which all that man has held as true has disappeared; this negation of all that is particular… The difference between our standpoint and that of the Eleatic philosophy is only this, that through the agency of Christianity concrete individuality is in the modern world present

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More precisely, the verdict of such readers is that for Spinoza finite things are not ‘real’17 in

the sense that from the point of view of a true account of the nature of things as they are in

themselves, their existence18 and natures are merely illusory.19 (And so for example Joachim alleges

that according to Spinoza, “to the ultimate apprehension, there are no things, but one all-complete

throughout in spirit. But in spite of the infinite demands on the part of the concrete, substance with Spinoza is not yet determined as in itself concrete” (LHP, 3.256-8); “there exists the One into which everything enters, in order to be absorbed therein, but out of which nothing comes” (ibid, 285); “As all differences and determinations of things and of consciousness simply go back into the One substance, one may say that in the system of Spinoza all things are merely cast down into this abyss of annihilation. But from this abyss nothing comes out… [T]his rigid motionlessness, whose single form of activity is this, to divest all things of their determination and particularity and cast them back into the one absolute substance, wherein they are simply swallowed up, and all life in itself is utterly destroyed… This lack has to be supplied…[such that] what Spinoza understood by the ‘modes’ is elevated to objective reality as an absolute moment of the absolute” (ibid, 288-9); “Rigid substantiality is the last point he reached…determinateness continually vanishes from his thought” (ibid, 260-1).

17 Spinoza has his own ‘technical’ notion of “reality”, to which we will return. 18 To be clear, Spinoza himself, as we saw in the previous Chapter, endorses two senses of

“existence” corresponding to the two (atemporal and durational) senses of “actuality” (see esp. 2p45s). This double sense of existence, and Spinoza’s reasons for thinking there must be duration, are unfortunately topics I cannot pursue here in their own right. In what follows, where I do not specify the sense of “existence” at issue, I will be concerned with the more fundamental (eternal) existence.

19 (*) Cf. e.g. Maimon, note 6 above. Cf. also Hegel: “Parmenides has to reckon with illusion and opinion, the opposite of being and truth;

Spinoza likewise, with attributes, modes, extension, movement, understanding, will, and so on.” (Science of Logic [hereafter, SL] 98); “all this that we know as the world has been cast into the abyss of the one identity. There is…no such thing as finite reality, it has no truth whatever; according to Spinoza what is, is God, and God alone” (LHP 3.281); “The true is simply and solely the one substance” (ibid, 3.256); “the understanding which is ranked by Spinoza only among affections (1p31d) and as such has no truth” (ibid, 3.269; my ital.); “[modes] are mere modifications which only exist for us apart from God… ‘The essence of man consists of certain modifications of the attributes of God’; these modifications are only something related to our understanding” (ibid, 270); “As the concrete is thus not present in the content of substance, it is therefore to be found within reflecting thought alone…” (ibid, 258).

Cf. Caird: “attributes are not differences to which substance determines itself, but to which it is determined by us. …The positive existence we ascribe to [“finite existences”] is, when closely viewed, only negation or non-existence. To get to real or affirmative being we must negate the negation, withdraw the fictitious limit, and what we get as the real is simply the absolutely indeterminate… The device which Spinoza falls upon to reach the diversity without tampering with the unity [of substance], is to regard the former as differences, not in the substance itself, but in substance in relation to the finite intelligence which contemplates it.” (Spinoza, 143-6; orig. ital.).

Cf. Beiser: “Spinoza did not solve” the “ancient conundrum of the one and the many, or how the world of difference and multiplicity ever originates from primal unity” but “only reinstated it…. In the end Spinoza could do nothing more than relegate the whole temporal world to the realm of the imagination” (Hegel, 92).

Cf. Macherey: Spinozist modes are a mere “appearance”, purely “illusory” expressions of substance (Hegel ou Spinoza, 36).

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Reality”, for “Spinoza …dismiss[es] things as ‘mere illusions’” [Study, 110, 114].20) On such readings

of Spinoza’s causal metaphysics, it is simply not true to assert that finite modes ‘exist’ or ‘have this

or that essence or nature’. The only true existential claim is that ‘God exists’; and the only true

descriptions are descriptions of God’s nature which, however, do not impute to divine nature any

self-differentiation.

To be clear, these “acosmic” interpretations of Spinoza’s causal metaphysics are not merely a

19th century imposition onto Spinoza’s text of an entirely foreign set of concerns. For already

Leibniz, for example,21 expressed a similar sentiment, remarking that for Spinoza all things other

than substance are “merely…certain vanishing or unstable modifications and phantasms”.22 Even

20 (*) Joachim also writes, “‘[N]egation’…in things is true for the modal apprehension, though not

the ultimate truth; for to the ultimate apprehension, there are no things, but one all-complete Reality… [T]the principle of the union of oneness and variety is that the 'limitations' and distinctions are' defects' and unresolved 'differences' only for an imperfect apprehension; that 'in God,' of whom the modes are states or degrees, all such limitations are overcome, since for a true apprehension they are bare negations which are not negations of God” (Study, 111); “all the distinctive features of the worlds of Extension and Thought seem to vanish as ‘illusions' one by one, until you are left with the singleness of the Attributes… The secondary qualities of the extended world vanish in his system with hardly a struggle to mark their extinction. The distinctive figures and motions of the particular bodies disappear in the permanent unity and identity of the ‘facies totius universi’; and that again, on inspection, shows itself as a mere balance in the proportions of motion to rest.” (ibid, 114).

21 Some scholars take Bayle to interpret Spinoza as a acosmic metaphysician in the same sense as the Idealists (cf. e.g. Melamed, “Acosmism”, MS 1). I think however that this is a misreading, because although Bayle indeed attributes to Spinoza the view that there is “only one being, and only one nature”, only one “agent” and “patient” (Historical and Critical Dictionary [hereafter, HCD], “Spinoza” ‘N’, 301, 314), Bayle also believes that Spinoza acknowledges the existence of differences among finite things (cf. e.g. “[Spinoza] recognizes that stones and animals are not the same modality of infinite being. …What then did he say? … He taught not that two trees were two parts of extension, but two modifications” [ibid, 306]). Indeed, one of Bayle’s main charges against Spinoza is precisely that he makes God mutable and incoherent by making him immanent to the changing and contradictory finite things (cf. e.g. ibid, 308, 310); this line of criticism obviously requires Bayle to believe that for Spinoza, finite things are not merely illusory. (Using the terminology I will shortly introduce, Bayle can be said to impute only substance monism, not however acosmism, to Spinoza.)

22 (*) “On Nature Itself” (AG, 160). Cf. also: “it is through these very monads that Spinozism is destroyed, for there are just as many true substances…as there are monads; according to Spinoza, on the contrary, there is only one substance. He would be right if there were no monads, then everything except God would be of a passing nature and would vanish into simple accidents or modifications, since there would be no substantial foundation in things, such as consists in the existence of monads” (Letter to Bourguet, Dec. 1714, G 3: 576; my ital.).

To be clear, Leibniz’s charge against Spinoza is the transitoriness of finite things – linked to their lack of substantial status – rather than their illusoriness.

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more importantly, we cannot dismiss such acosmic readings as merely a fanciful late arrival on the

interpretative scene because Spinoza himself (contrary to what has been asserted by some scholars23)

contemplates these sorts of problems in his own writings. For example, already in the second

proposition of the Ethics, he addresses the problem of how we can distinguish any two things.24 He

also repeatedly takes up the question of the nature of the causes of modes’ existence.25 Moreover, in

his correspondence with Tschirnhaus, he examines the problem of proving “a priori” – in the

medieval sense of explanation from causes26 – that an infinite “variety” of finite things necessarily

arises from substance (Ep. 82-3).27 A few hundred years later, this is still the worry of readers like

Hegel, who charge that Spinoza is unable to prove that God must give rise to things other than

himself, and hence that he is unable to prove that there is anything but the one infinite and

undifferentiated substance. 28

In his letter to Tschirnhaus, Spinoza promises to spell out how to demonstrate a priori the

necessity of finite things in Nature “more clearly” “some time” later, “for as yet [he] ha[s] not had

23 (*) Cf. e.g. by Schmitz: “Spinoza never even raised [the problem]” (“Hegel's assessment of

Spinoza”, 242n27). 24 (*) Cf. also e.g. 1Ax5, 2p3, 2p4, 2p5. 25 (*) See e.g. 1p11s (II/54), 2ax1, 2p10, 2L1, Ep. 12. (To be clear, Spinoza’s intention in these

passages is primarily negative – to rule out the possibility that a mode exists on account of its own essence; instead, we must consider the causal “order of Nature as a whole”). Cf. also Spinoza’s remark that “the Author [i.e. Spinoza] still intends to discover its cause [the cause of “motion in matter”], as he has already done to some extent, a posteriori” (KV1.9 note a; I/48). (Since finite bodies would be distinguished only by their ratios of motion and rest, to find a priori the cause of motion in matter is to find why extended finite modes follow from the nature of the extended substance.) Finally, Spinoza also repeatedly fields requests, from his correspondents as well as from imagined “opponents”, to justify his claim that God has the attribute of extension (see e.g. 1p15s [II/57-60], and Ep. 12; cf. also 2p2); substance’s possession of attributes is another element of Spinoza’s picture that was challenged by the acosmic readings. We shall return to Spinoza’s justifications in §2 and §11.

26 (*) For Spinoza’s use of this sense of “a priori” cf. e.g.: CM 2 (I/249), 2.1 (I/250); 1p11s (II/54). Cf. also Descartes, Le Monde (AT XI 47).

27 (*) Cf. also the following comment in the KV: “It will be marvelous, indeed, if this should turn out to be consistent: that Unity agrees with the Diversity I see everywhere in Nature: For how could this be?” (First Dialogue [4], KV I/28

28 (*) Cf. Deleuze: Tschirnhaus’s worry that in mathematics you can deduce only one property from a definition unless you relate the thing to other things, is “just Hegel’s point as, thinking of Spinoza, he insisted that geometrical method was unable to frame the organic movement or self-development that is alone appropriate to the Absolute” (Expressionism in Philosophy: Spinoza [hereafter, Expressionism], 20).

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the opportunity to arrange in due order anything on this subject” (Ep. 83). Unfortunately for us,

this is one of Spinoza’s last letters, and he dies – in the fashion Hegel finds so fitting – before

making good on the promise. However, the little Spinoza says in his short letter suggests that even

if he hadn't had the opportunity to produce a detailed tract on the subject, the question of how to

derive a multiplicity of finite things from the infinite substantial cause was not one he hadn't

anticipated or contemplated, and therefore that if we dig sufficiently deep below what he has been

able to expound in a clear and ordered manner, his causal metaphysics can be shown to contain the

resources to answer the questions posed by his Idealist29 readers.30

This is what I want to show in this Chapter. The conclusion I will advance, stated in its

most bare-bones form, is that both versions of the acosmic interpretations of Spinoza's causal

metaphysics – on which Spinoza’s system either does not have the conceptual resources to show that

there is anything but an undifferentiated and infinite substantial causa sui, or, more extremely, that

Spinoza does not wish to claim that there is anything besides substance – must be rejected. However,

I will argue that they must be rejected not for the reasons usually cited against such readings, nor in

favor of the kind of ‘finitist pluralism’ – pluralism of finite things – that is usually regarded31 as the

sole alternative to such acosmic readings, an alternative on which Spinoza is committed to the

29 Given the limitations of space, unfortunately I cannot address the various Idealist readings on their

own terms. In what follows I will therefore refer instead to the fictional amalgam of ‘the Idealist interpretation’, which will inevitably and regrettably blur over the differences among the readings. Since Hegel’s commentary is both the most philosophically interesting and one of the most developed in this interpretative genre, I will most often focus on Hegel as a representative of this hypothetical more general philosophical position.

30 In contrast, Giancotti – who believes that although Spinoza’s philosophy does indeed provide a solution to this “problem of the deduction of the finite from the infinite”, Spinoza himself does not recognize this – reads Ep. 83 as suggesting that Spinoza thought that he hadn’t yet found a solution to this problem of the “a priori demonstration of bodily multiplicity”, such that he “believe[d] that he had to look for a cause of motion [in KV1.9 note a] or an a priori demonstration of bodily multiplicity”, feeling “the need to study the argument further” (“On the Problem of Infinite Modes”, 110, 113). I return to Giancotti's proposed solution to the problem of deriving a multiplicity below.

31 (*) See e.g. Curley, SM, Donagan, Spinoza; Della Rocca, Spinoza; Giancotti, “Reality of the finite in Spinoza’s system”; Deleuze, Expressionism; Melamed, “Acosmism”, Ritchie, “Reality of the finite in Spinoza’s system”.

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substance’s production of finite effects, and thus to the existence of finite things, when the nature

of things is grasped in its truth sub specie aeternitatis. For in my view we should accept neither a

acosmic picture of Spinoza’s causal metaphysics nor the finitist-pluralist picture. I will urge that

instead we ought to see Spinoza as committed (if I may be forgiven an awkward phrase) to an

infinitist-pluralist metaphysics – that is, as a thinker who holds that a true metaphysical account of

causality in Nature has room solely for infinite entities, such that, contrary to what is assumed by most

Spinoza scholars today, from the point of view of a metaphysical account of what is, finite things,

discernible as finite, do not exist. In short, I will contend that Spinoza is committed to the claim that in

metaphysical rigor substance is a cause of infinite effects alone.

The implication of such a conclusion is that there is a very substantial kernel of truth in the

Idealist interpretations of Spinoza’s causal metaphysics (indeed, I will urge in what follows, that this

denial of existence to finite things is only one of several Idealist insights into Spinoza’s causal

metaphysics that we must retain). Unfortunately, the possibility that Spinoza is an entity-monist or

an acosmic metaphysician does not interest contemporary Spinoza32 scholars very much,33 especially

32 Beiser, in his discussion of Hegel, and Schaffer, in his discussion of contemporary monism, are the

rare non-Spinoza scholars who bring up Spinoza’s acosmism. Schaffer refers to Spinoza in the context of whole-part relations, and of monism as “the

world as an integrated system” (“Monism: The Priority of the Whole”, 26; cf. Spinoza “allow[s] that the world has proper parts, but…the whole is basic and the parts are derivative” [“Monism”]; cf. also “From Nihilism to Monism”, 178n10). Schaffer’s mereological account of Spinoza’s (alleged) monism has to be rejected, for if Spinoza were a monist, he would endorse a monism of ground/cause rather than of a totality of “parts”. (It might be useful to introduce a distinction within priority monisms between ‘totality monisms and ‘cause’ (or ‘ground’) monisms; only the latter applies to Spinoza’s substance.) But Schaffer is correct to stress that Spinoza should not be understood as denying the existence of parts (or, rather, modifications/effects), but rather as stressing the priority of the whole (or, better, of the first cause): thus we should see Spinoza as an “existence monist” (“exactly one concrete object token exists”) and a “priority monist” (“exactly one basic concrete object exists – there may be many other concrete objects, but these only exist derivatively”) (“Monism”).

Beiser concludes following Hegel that Spinoza relegates modes to the realm of the imagination (Hegel, 92). Beiser’s evidence for his interpretation of Spinoza comes from a misinterpretation of 1p21-2, 1p28, and of Ep. 12 (for my discussion of these texts see §5). Beiser also claims more generally that in Spinoza’s system the problem of the one and the many is insoluble, for, on the on hand “the infinite and finite cannot be united because they have opposing characteristics… if we were to joining them in a single substance, that substance would be self-contradictory; it would per impossibile both eternal and temporal, indivisible and divisible, unlimited and limited. On the other hand, however, the infinite and finite must be

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not in the Anglo-Saxon world.34 Not only have enthusiastically acosmic interpretations of Spinoza’s

metaphysics fallen out of favor, but, more importantly, the interest in the question of their

defensibility has also waned, and with it in the general question of the reasons for the necessity of

united because if the infinite excludes the finite, it cannot be all reality…” (ibid, 92-3, orig. ital.) This construal of Spinoza’s position is untenable for several reasons. For one, for Spinoza the finite is not necessarily temporal. Second, to assert that Spinoza had no way to “join” and “unite” the finite and the infinite because that would amount to substance being “self-contradictory” seems to assume that Spinoza was incapable of any more sophisticated “joining” of a finite world to an infinite first cause – despite this being one of the oldest problems in metaphysics – than simply by asserting simultaneously and in the same respect two contradictory predicates of one thing. Beiser also insists that the teleological model of the “living organism” is “alone” the means by which it is “possible to escape the snares of the ancient problem the origin of finitude” (ibid, 95), but it is not obvious that all self-differentiation or production of multiplicity must be teleological in nature (think e.g. of Neoplatonism, which emphasizes that the One produces by efficient causality originally).

33 The only two contemporary exceptions to this known to me are Della Rocca’s Spinoza and “Explaining Explanation and the Multiplicity of Attributes” (hereafter “Explaining Explanation”); and Melamed’s “Acosmism”. Della Rocca provocatively begins a chapter in Spinoza with a claim that suggests that he sees Spinoza as an acosmic metaphysician (“How many things are there in the world? Spinoza’s answer: one…” [ibid, 33]), but in fact his view is that for Spinoza more than one thing exists, although only one substance does – particular things also exist to the “degree” that they have adequate ideas (ibid, Ch. 7). Della Rocca’s version of finitist pluralism provides an interesting middle way between my infinitist pluralist interpretation and acosmism, because in Della Rocca’s view, finite things exist only to the “degree” that they have adequate ideas (see esp. Spinoza, ch. 7 and “Rationalism Run Amok”). I will return to Della Rocca’s reading throughout.

Curley’s 1970 Spinoza’s Metaphysics, Harris’s Salvation from Despair (1973), and Donagan’s Spinoza (1988) are to my knowledge the last previous pieces of Anglo-Saxon Spinoza scholarship to consider Spinoza’s acosmism; I return to these interpretations later. Although Curley’s interpretation of substance-mode relation has been much discussed, to my knowledge it hasn’t been noted that in rejecting the view of modes as properties/predicates in favor of a causal construal, Curley is in part motivated by the wish to preserve the reality of modes: according to Curley, Joachim’s “Eleatic” reading of Spinoza follows in part from Joachim’s interpretation of substance-mode relation as a subject-predicate relation (SM, 22).

The majority of contemporary articles dedicated to the substance-mode relation in Spinoza’s metaphysics simply ignores the possibility of Spinoza's denial of the reality of finite things. More frequent are discussions of how Spinoza derives finite from the infinite focusing on 1p21-28 (cf. e.g. Friedman, “How the finite follows from the infinite in Spinoza’s metaphysical system” [hereafter, “How the finite follows”]; Garrett, “Spinoza’s necessitarianism”, Schmaltz, “Spinoza’s mediate finite mode”). Similarly, although the question of “individuality” in Spinoza’s philosophy receives quite a bit of attention, most treatments of this topic focus on Spinoza’s definition of an “individual” in the Physical Digression. But without addressing the question of the reality of finite things, our grasp of the meaning of “individuality” in Spinoza’s philosophy remains essentially incomplete, as it may turn out that there is simply no room in Spinoza’s metaphysics for any finite “individuals”.

34 Sensitivity to this problem is much greater in 20th century French and Italian literature on Spinoza, as may be expected from the greater influence of Hegel. I return to Giancotti’s (“On the Problem of Infinite Modes”), Deleuze’s (Expressionism) and Macherey’s (Hegel ou Spinoza) readings below. Deleuze’s view is that Spinoza’s concept of “expression” shows that the substance possesses precisely the requisite kind of self-development that the Idealist sought (Expressionism, 18), but given the lack of space I will not be able to address Deleuze’s rich and original interpretation here systematically.

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things other than God in Spinoza’s metaphysics.35 This kind of question, of course, is very familiar

from the history of philosophy: why should the first, infinite and perfect being produce anything at

all – and especially a multiplicity of dependent, finite and imperfect beings?36 Those of Spinoza’s

readers who did wonder about Spinoza’s answer to this question – readers like Hegel and Jacobi –

were for the most part also convinced that Spinoza either does not believe, or cannot prove, that

substance really brings about the existence of other things. But, as I briefly noted above, I think this

is the wrong answer.

This regrettable lack of contemporary interest in the possibility that Spinoza’s metaphysics is

an acosmism arguably can be explained by three complementary factors. The first has to do with

the historical trajectory of the Anglo-Saxon Spinoza scholarship. As already noted in earlier

Chapters, the last half-century witnessed an overwhelming turn toward interpretations that place the

greatest weight on the influence on Spinoza’s thought of the Early Modern scientific revolution. On

this approach (championed for example by Bennett, Carriero and Donagan), Spinoza’s metaphysics

is at its core a generalization of Cartesian physics. (It is this interpretative premise that at least in

35 Indeed, many contemporary philosophers view monism in general as not a very appealing

philosophical position. Cf. e.g. van Inwagen’s estimation of monism (represented as the claim that “There is one individual thing” [Metaphysics, 25]): “The question naturally arises why anyone accepts this metaphysic. It seems most natural to accept individuality as a real feature of the World” (ibid, 30). Cf. also Hoffman and Rosenkrantz, Substance: “Monism has an additional very serious disadvantage: it is inconsistent with something that appears to be an evident datum of experience, namely, that there is a plurality of things. We shall assume that a plurality of material things exists, and hence that acosmism is false.” (78). Recently, however, there has been a spike in interest in the topic: see the various articles by Schaffer; Horgan and Potrč; and Sider.

36 This question was raised of course by various German Idealists independently of any discussion of Spinoza (cf. e.g. Fichte: “The postulate states: The I appears outside of itself, as it were, and makes itself into an object. Why should and why must the I do this?” [Foundations of Transcendental Philosophy (Wissenschaftslehre) nova methodo, IV/2:44] and Schelling: “How do I ever come to egress from the absolute, and to make progress towards an opposite?” [Letters, I/1: 294]). But already Plotinus raises this problem as an “ancient” question ( “the soul…longs to answer the question repeatedly discussed also by the ancient philosophers, how from the One…anything else, whether a multiplicity or a dyad or a number, came into existence, and why it did not on the contrary remain by itself, but such a great multiplicity flowed from it as that which is seen to exist in being” [Enneads, V.1.6.2-8]). (There are in fact many similarities between Spinoza’s philosophy and Neoplatonic thought, but I will not be able to address this complex issue here adequately, although I will occasionally return to it.)

Spinoza would have been familiar with the medieval discussions of this problem of deriving creaturely complexity from God’s radical unity at least from his reading of Maimonides (cf. GP 2.22).

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part underlies the rampant tendency to construe Spinoza’s notion of cause as the “blind”

mechanistic efficient cause, a topic we examined in Chapter 2.) It is also behind the insistence by

commentators like Donagan that it is simply absurd to suppose that Spinoza would treat as illusory

the subject matter of the new physics – the finite bodies that move and rest in accordance with

certain laws.37 In Chapter 2 I tried to show why the interpretation of Spinoza’s notion of cause in

terms of “blind’ mechanism is misguided. In this Chapter I want to show, analogously, that it is

important not to dismiss out of hand Idealist interpretations of Spinoza’s substance-mode relation

on the presumption that Spinoza’s metaphysics is dictated by the needs of the new physics, for this

presumption obscures what as I noted above is a very substantial kernel of truth to be found in the

Idealist interpretations.38

The second factor that, arguably, explains the lack of interest among contemporary scholars

in this question is narrowly textual. For to someone familiar with Spinoza’s writings, the irreality of

37 (*) Donagan writes, “Many commentators now recognize that, since the motion and rest which

Spinoza recognizes as an eternal mode are the motion and rest of physics…he therefore cannot have thought that a substance's eternity excludes the occurrence in it of processes that are temporally ordered. Not long since, it was otherwise. …[Spinoza’s position] was construed…as anticipating Leibniz's doctrine that motion, rest, and the temporal relations they presuppose are no more than phenomena bene fundata. Students of Spinoza in the future may well be perplexed by the tenacity with which this interpretation was held, because no arguments for the view of post-Cartesian physics it ascribes to Spinoza can be found in the Ethics: they must be sought in Leibniz and the like-minded theorists. The explanation, I believe, is charity. When interpreters who were deeply influenced by absolute idealism, and who considered the object of physics to be merely an appearance of the object of metaphysics, found Spinoza to assert, on the one hand, that nature is infinite, eternal and indivisible, and on the other, that duration and time are found only in nature's finite modes, they were reminded of Parmenides, Leibniz, Hegel and F.H. Bradley… The authority their scholarship won [Joachim and Hallett] concealed from their successors how weak is the evidence for attributing to Spinoza the views of eternity and duration they did.” (Spinoza, 112-113)

38 Furthermore, acosmic metaphysical commitments are clearly not in principle incompatible with an interest in the physics of finite bodies, even if from a metaphysical point of view one is convinced that such bodies are mere appearances. One need only think here of Leibniz’s idealism, which did not preclude his taking a deep interest in the physics of bodies. In short, Spinoza’s interest in natural science, or lack thereof, is simply not decisive for the question of his acosmism.

As I noted already in Chapter 2, independent grounds for being skeptical of the importance of physics for Spinoza are arguably furnished by the sheer brevity of his comments on the topic. ‘physics’ in the Ethics – which rather tellingly has become known among commentators as a “Digression”. Cf. also Spinoza’s comment that the KV is not concerned with questions of “natural science”, such as “motion” (KV I.9; I/48).

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finite modes may seem to be simply and unequivocally ruled out by a number of passages.39 (For

example, Spinoza writes that “our Mind [mens nostra]” – thus clearly, a finite thing – “with respect

both to essence and existence, follows from the divine nature, and continually depends on God”

[5p36s; II/303]; or again, “I am speaking of the very nature of existence, which is attributed to

singular things [ipsa natura existentiae quae rebus singularibus tribuitur] because infinitely many things

follow from the eternal necessity of God's nature in infinitely many modes” [2p45s; II/127]. Or

again, “Whatever happens in the singular object of any idea, there is knowledge of it in God [quicquid

in singulari cujuscunque ideae objecto contingit, ejus datur in Deo cognitio]” [2p9c].40) However, this kind of

purely textual case against acosmic interpretations of Spinozistic causation, although perhaps

overwhelming on a cursory glance at the text, remains quite weak. For an advocate of a acosmic

reading could insist that once we correctly understand the meaning of all such explicit references to

finite things, we will see that in fact their true referent is God qua infinite and undifferentiated. For

example, to take the last passage cited above, one could argue that in knowing what “happens” in a

finite object, God could in fact know only his own infinite nature. (Indeed, there exists a well-

known tradition of reading Spinoza as an esoteric writer.41) An Idealist interpreter could in addition

claim that Spinoza’s references to “finite” things are not part of his metaphysics strictly speaking,

and so do not reproduce the “formal” order of Nature, picking out genuine res, but that instead all

such formulations have some sort of ‘therapeutic’ value to them, in line with Spinoza’s neo-Stoic

view of the nature of philosophy. Perhaps it is in some way “useful”, even if false, to talk in such

39 I have in mind propositions in which phrases like “finite mode” or “singular thing” cannot be

easily dismissed as having been intended merely to explain the meaning of such terms; or to use such terms in the course of dialectical or ad hominem arguments or proofs by contradiction; or, finally to merely report on our, potentially inadequate, perceptions.

40 (*) For propositions that seem most clearly to meet this criterion of ontological commitment to “modes” or “affections” generally cf. 1p16; 1p4d; 1p25; 2p3-2p6; 1p33; CM 1.2 (I/238); TTP 4 (III/60). For propositions that seem to meet the criterion of ontological commitment to finite modes specifically cf. 1p17s[II] (II/63); 1p25c; 2p11; 2p7s (II/90); 2p8; 2p45d; 5p22,d; 5p23; 5p30; 5p40s.

41 Cf. esp. Strauss, Persecution and the Art of Writing. Moreover Spinoza counts thinkers engaged in esoteric projects among his most formidable influences (in particular, Maimonides).

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terms. (In fact, in the Ethics Spinoza explicitly distinguishes true notions from those that are merely

“useful” [2p40s1; II/120].)

Whatever the merits of this therapeutic line of reading in particular,42 the above series of

possible challenges to a purely textual case against acosmism shows in my view that also this second

kind of attempt to rule out the possibility that Spinoza’s system is a species of acosmism remains on

its own insufficient. Now, a third reason why scholars today may feel disinclined to entertain

seriously the possibility of acosmism has to do with the internal coherence of Spinoza’s thought.

For one may think that when we think through the consequences of a commitment to acosmism for

the rest of Spinoza’s philosophy, we recognize that the irreality of finite modes wreaks havoc on

several of his doctrines, and thus cannot represent a position to which Spinoza actually subscribes,

on pain of introducing contradiction into his own system.43 More precisely, one may allege that

acosmism would undermine Spinoza’s doctrine of the eternity of human minds (II/294 ff) and rule

out the possibility of the “third kind” of knowledge (2p40s2). Both of these doctrines are taken

(wrongly, I shall argue later) by the overwhelming majority of commentators as doctrines concerned

42 It seems this kind of reading is open to the charge of being ultimately untenable, because it winds

up with a paradox on its hands: it requires us to appeal to an alleged therapeutic value experienced by, or intended for, finite individuals, so entities that, by hypothesis, do not in fact exist. (On these paradoxical commitments of acosmic readings, cf. also Curley, SM, 24-5).

43 This line of argument is pursued by Melamed who lists four doctrines as incompatible with acosmism: 1) the third kind of knowledge (see below for my discussion); 2) 1p16 (see §3 and §6 for my discussion) and 1p36 (see §2.vi); 3) parallelism (which, according to Melamed, “seems to demand the existence of well-defined units which are connected by the same order”); and, finally, 4) Spinoza’s claim in the TTP that “we acquire a greater and more perfect knowledge of God as we gain more knowledge of natural things [res naturales]” (III/60) (“Acosmism”, MS 11). Melamed’s last point suffers from a potential weakness that, as we’ve seen, haunts all textual arguments: a proponent of acosmism could counter that the point of the passage is that we gain knowledge of the infinite God, realizing the illusory nature of finite things. Melamed’s third argument neglects that Spinoza’s parallelism doctrine is not offered specifically as a description of relations among finite modes, only among “modes” and “things” generally, and so the doctrines are compatible with the existence of infinite modes alone. (It is true that Spinoza’s illustration in 2p7s uses the example of a finite mode – a “circle” – but a circle is merely a being of reason, and just as we cannot infer from this that there really are circles in Nature, it seems that we cannot infer from it that parallelism is supposed to pertain to finite modes.)

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with finite individuals specifically.44 Furthermore, one might think that acosmism would have

devastating repercussions for the very possibility of Spinoza endorsing any moral philosophy. This is

because acosmism would seem to entail that Spinoza’s metaphysics does not even allow for the

existence of the kind of individuals that could experience the demand of a moral law, or be guided

by a desire for virtue.45 (Or one may relish such a conclusion: thus Schelling for example insisted

that the sole ethical command of Spinoza’s philosophy is “Annihilate yourself!” [Letter VII].)

In short, it would appear that a acosmic metaphysics would produce quite a bit of tension

across Spinoza’s doctrines; this seems to render acosmic readings prima facie implausible. However,

an advocate of such a reading could retort that, at least as it stands, this objection simply presumes a

particular interpretation of the aforementioned doctrines, in a question-begging way. Consider the

first doctrine cited above, Spinoza’s thesis of the eternity of the human mind. The anti-acosmic

objection assumes that by the eternity of human minds Spinoza means their eternity qua discernible

finite individuals. But there are no clear textual reasons to do so, so to assume such a reading of the

44 Later in the Chapter I will argue that we must reject this assumption. But for its espousal cf. e.g.

Wilson, “Infinite understanding, scientia intuitiva, and Ethics I.16”, 172; Nadler, “Spinoza and Philo”, 245ff; Gueroult, Spinoza II 417; Bennett, Study, 366f; De Dijn, “Wisdom and Theoretical Knowledge”, 149f; Schmaltz, “Spinoza’s mediate finite mode,” 215; Caird, Spinoza, 217; Deleuze, Spinoza: Practical philosophy, 117; Melamed, “Acosmism”, MS 11; Lloyd, Routledge Philosophy Guide to Spinoza and the Ethics, 121.

45 These kinds of worries are hinted at in Curley’s comment that Spinoza cannot be taken to deny that finite things have “essential nature or individuality” since Spinoza “seems to identify [this]…with the force by which they persevere in existence”, a notion “so important for Spinoza's ethical theory that it is difficult to see how he could deny that things have an essential nature” (SM, 23).

In contrast, Hegel doesn’t seem overly troubled by the consequences of Spinoza’s acosmism for his moral philosophy. Indeed, he goes so far as assert that Spinoza’s metaphysics furnishes an exemplary ethical and religious action-guiding principle (LHP 3.277, 279-80). Presumably this is because Hegel believes that Spinoza does not intend to assert the illusory nature of finite things, but was rather unable to establish their reality, and outlines an incomplete moral truth, just as he attains only to incomplete metaphysical truths. Hegel’s criticism of Spinoza’s moral views centers instead on the latter’s denial of substantial status and thus of independence to finite things (ibid, 280).

One might wish to add to this list of doctrines that appear to contravene acosmism an objection based on its incompatibility with Spinoza’s theory of the “passions”, which by definition no infinite thing can suffer (see e.g. 3def3). However, this argument against acosmism can easily be defeated, given that for Spinoza passions themselves are not real things with positive reality, and so caused by God: they are instead deficiencies relative to finite things only. (This has been argued for in detail by Della Rocca, see e.g. “Rationalism Run Amok: Representation and the Reality of Emotions in Spinoza” [hereafter, “Rationalism Run Amok”).

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doctrine is simply to beg the question against the Idealist. The situation is similar with the anti-

acosmist’s appeal to Spinoza’s doctrine of the third kind of knowledge. There is in fact only one

passage in the Ethics in which Spinoza describes this kind of knowledge as a knowledge of “singular”

things (as opposed to “things” in general) (5p36s; II/303), and again it’s not self-evident that for

Spinoza to know a singular thing is to know it as a singular thing.46 Finally, given Spinoza’s

reduction of moral philosophy to a subdiscipline of metaphysics concerned with conditions of

causal autonomy (a conclusion I suggested in the last Chapter), it does not seem that the existence of

finite individuals remains as clearly a condition of the possibility of a moral philosophy in the first

place, as it would have certainly been, were Spinoza’s understanding of moral philosophy more

traditional, and retained as an element, for example, the idea of personal salvation or personal

immortality.

In short, at the very least the advocate of a acosmic interpretation seems right to demand

evidence that the doctrines proffered above as proof of the obvious falsity of the acosmic reading of

Spinoza do in fact concern or require the existence of finite individuals. Moreover, appealing to

Spinoza’s doctrines to dismiss acosmic readings is not only arguably question-begging in the manner

just described; it is also a double-edged sword. For some of Spinoza’s other doctrines downright

encourage the Idealists’ suspicions that there is simply no room in his metaphysics for finite things.

(To give the most prominent example, the interdictions Spinoza places on causal interactions

46 I will offer my own reading of this doctrine later in the Chapter. In 2p40s2, where Spinoza officially introduces the doctrine, he characterizes it simply as a knowledge

of the essences of “things [rerum]” generally (II/122; cf. 5p25d, 1p16). 1p16, which is widely considered to be describing the third kind of knowledge (cf. e.g. Wilson, “Infinite understanding”) is similarly typically read as a description of finite things following from God (cf. e.g. Della Rocca, Spinoza, 76-7; Melamed, “Acosmism”; Ritchie, “Reality of the finite in Spinoza’s system”, 20-1; Newlands, “Harmony in Spinoza and Leibniz” [hereafter, “Harmony”] §2.1-2), but again it does not in fact mention finite things (I discuss this proposition in detail in Part II). The reading of the third kind of knowledge as concerned with finite things is presumably encouraged by the fact that in the history of philosophy, intuitive knowledge usually was taken to be a knowledge of particulars.

However, in the TdIE Spinoza mentions “essences of singular and changeable things” (TdIE [101]; II/36) in the context that appears to be a forerunner of the Ethics’ concept of third kind of knowledge.

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between finite and infinite things in 1p21 and 1p2847 are arguably highly problematic for the

possibility of finite things, for it may seem that on Spinoza’s stipulations no finite thing could ever

follow from an infinite thing like substance.48)

There is also however a much more significant reason why merely pointing out passages and

doctrines does not suffice to rule out the acosmic interpretation of Spinoza’s causal metaphysics.

For the most formidable version of the acosmic charge, and one which Spinoza scholarship has yet

to address adequately in my view, is that regardless of what propositions and doctrines Spinoza may

have asserted, he is simply not entitled, by the premises of his own system, to the view that things

other than substance exist, nor to any doctrines that rely on such an assumption. That is, the claim

is that if Spinoza cannot demonstrate that, in his necessitarian framework, substance must produce

things other than itself, that the existence of such entities must be deducible from the nature of

substance, then his belief that his metaphysics has room for such entities is without grounds. This

accusation is made explicitly in Hegel’s,49 Caird’s,50 and Joachim’s51 commentaries: whatever his

47 (*) Cf. also Ep. 54: “between the finite and the infinite there is no relation, so that the difference

between God and the greatest and most excellent created thing is no other than that between God and the least created thing.”

48 We shall see later (in §5) why these propositions do not in the end suffice to make the Idealist’s case

49 For a different reading of Hegel’s criticism of Spinoza, according to which Spinoza intends to assert that finitude is not real, see Beiser (Hegel, 75.).

(*) Hegel writes, e.g.: “the particular of which Spinoza speaks is only assumed and presupposed from the ordinary conception, without being justified. Were it to be justified, Spinoza would have to deduce it from his Substance; but that does not open itself out, and therefore comes to no vitality, spirituality or activity. His philosophy has only a rigid and unyielding substance … This is what we find philosophically inadequate with Spinoza; distinctions are externally present, it is true, but they remain external” (LHP 3.288); “on the one hand…the defect of Spinozism is conceived as consisting in its want of correspondence with actuality; but on the other side it is …that substance with Spinoza is only the Idea taken altogether abstractly, not in its vitality. …[W]ith Spinoza negation or privation is distinct from substance; for he merely assumes individual determinations, and does not deduce them from substance… [I]n the absolute there is no mode; the negative is not there, but only its dissolution, its return: we do not find its movement, its Becoming and Being” (ibid, 289); individuality “is not deduced, it is found” (ibid, 273); “with Parmenides as with Spinoza, there is no progress from being or absolute substance to the negative, to the finite” (SL, 94-5); as regards the “attributes”, “the moment coming second to substance’’, “Spinoza does not demonstrate how these…are evolved from the one substance”; “where substance passes over into attribute is not stated” (LHP 3.259, 260, 268); “How does it come that besides the Deity there now appear the understanding, which applies to

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intentions, Spinoza managed to give us only an amorphous infinite substance, from which nothing

else can be derived.

I want to say here a little more about what precisely is entailed by this ‘most formidable’

version of the acosmic charge, in order to make clear what it would take to address it adequately.

More precisely, there are three components of this version of the acosmic charge to which I wish to

draw our attention in particular:

(i) First of all, we must keep in mind Spinoza’s basic commitment to necessitarianism: whatever

follows from substance follows so necessarily.52 So if Spinoza’s substance indeed gives rise

to other things, this generation occurs necessarily.

(ii) Secondly, it is important to distinguish the controversy over Spinoza’s acosmism or

absolute substance the two forms of thought and extension? And whence comes these two forms themselves? Thus everything proceeds inwards, and not outwards; the determinations are not developed from substance, it does not resolves itself into these attributes” (ibid, 264).

50 (*) Caird writes, e.g. “How then can Spinoza find in his infinite substance the source and explanation of the variety and multiplicity of existence? …That he deemed it capable of doing so is obvious. …But…the question [is] whether it is inherently capable of the function assigned to it – whether substance, as he defines it, is not so conceived as to be incapable, without giving up its essential nature, of passing from its self-involved unity or identity into difference…. [W]hilst (1) there is nothing in the nature of substance, as Spinoza conceives it, which can logically yield, but everything to preclude any such element of difference, (2) failing such logical ground, he simply asserts without proof the differentiation of substance into attributes which he has empirically reached… [W]hilst by the very idea of substance Spinoza would seem to be precluded from giving to it any determinations, we find him passing at once from the notion of substance as the negation, to that of substance as the affirmation, of all possible differences… Thought seems to re-enact the part for which imagination was condemned – that of dividing the indivisible, of introducing number and measure into the absolute. … Had Spinoza not refused to be led by his own logic, his system would have ended where it began…. in a principle which reduces all thought and being to nothingness. …[Spinoza came] to see more in the idea of substance than it legitimately contained. While he ostensibly rejected all determinations from it, in his thought an element of determination tacitly clung to it.” (Spinoza, 142-4)

51 (*) Joachim writes, e.g. “for Spinoza, God is the ultimate whole within which all connexions are, and in whose unity all relations disappear or are absorbed. Hence no details – no characters or connexions of the finite can be ‘deduced’ from God in the way in which they can be deduced from one another under the controlling conception of God. But Spinoza certainly speaks as if he were ‘deducing’ all things from God, in the sense in which the geometer deduces its properties from the definition or essential nature of a triangle” (Study, 115-6; cf. also 103-4, 106).

52 The strength of Spinoza’s necessitarianism is of course is a controversial and complex topic in its own right. I will simply presuppose, but not argue for, my robust reading here, given that the details of Spinoza’s necessitarianism are not immediately relevant to the present inquiry.

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entity-monism from the (much-discussed) question of his substance monism,53 that is, from his

anti-Cartesian view that there is only one substance, or only one causally and conceptually

independent and self-sufficient being. One consequence of Spinoza’s view that there is only

one substance is that all other things (should there be anything else) can have only the status

of “modes”, “properties”, or “affections”, that is, the status of conceptually derivative and

causally dependent entities. However, the fact that Spinoza is, uncontroversially, a substance

monist does not settle the issue of his acosmism, which is what is at issue here. For acosmism

is a more robust doctrine: it asserts not merely that there is only one substance, but also that

this one substance is not differentiated in any way, and does not give rise to derivative

entities.54 Instead it is, as Hegel put it, an “abyss” from which “nothing comes out” (LHP

3.288). The two doctrines are, in short, importantly different: one is the claim that

Spinozistic modes may only have the status of properties or modifications of a substance;

53 Substance monism and entity-monism (acosmism) are not intended here to be an exhaustive categorization of possible types of monism in general, nor even of Spinozistic monism specifically. For example, Spinoza’s acosmism could equally be described as a “derivation monism” (Franks, All or Nothing, 17), in the sense that all modes are derived from the nature of substance, or as a version of Schaffer’s “priority monism”, in the sense that there is one basic entity (“From Nihilism to Monism”, 178n10; “Monism”, §3). Conversely, what I call here “acosmism” is similar to what Patricia Curd labels “numerical monism” (“Parmenidean monism,” 243) and what Schaffer calls “existence monism” (the claim that “exactly one concrete object token exists (the One)”, which “should not be confused with …the claim that exactly one entity exists. The existence monist…can allow that many abstract entities exist, she can allow that many spatiotemporal points exist…and…that many property tokens exist”) (“Monism”, §2).

All monisms obviously have in common the basic claim that whatever is, is one (identical, unified) in some respect. I will not explore here the relations between various interpretations of monism in general, nor the various interpretations of Spinoza’s monism in particular (although I want to note that Spinoza clearly cannot be regarded as a monist in the sense of oneness of kind, for example, insofar as attributes are irreducibly different kinds).

For various typologies of monisms in addition to those already cited cf. e.g. Broad, Mind and its Place in Nature, 17-38; Laerke, “Spinoza’s Monism? What monism”, Potrč, “Blobjectivist Monism,” 126n1, Woolhouse, Descartes, Spinoza, Leibniz: the concept of substance in seventeenth century metaphysics, 45.

54 For other monists who resist this collapsing of their monism into an undifferentiated monism cf. e.g. Proclus (“[T]he monad is everywhere prior to the plurality… In the case of bodies, the whole that precedes the parts is the whole that embraces all separate beings in the cosmos” [Commentary on Plato’s Parmenides, 79]); and Plotinus (“All is one universally comprehensive living being, encircling all the living beings within it, … every separate thing is an integral part of this All by belonging to the total material fabric…” [Enneads, 318-9]). Cf. also Bosanquet’s Logic: Or the Morphology of Knowledge, which recognizes “subordinate individuals”, while denying that parts of the whole can be “in the full sense a substance” (v.2, 260, 253), and Schaffer’s notion of “priority monism”.

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the other is the claim that the one substance has no properties or modifications at all.55 We

can make this point by using Spinoza’s own favorite causal analogy, his geometric model of

causation encountered in Chapter 2: a given property of a triangle, although it is manifestly

dependent on the essence of the triangle from which it follows, doesn’t seem to be simply

nothing, or merely an illusory being. Rather, it is something – though clearly not an

independent thing – distinguishable from its cause (the triangle’s essence), as well as from

other properties derivable from this cause. We can also put this point in terms of the

Scholastic theory of distinctions (explicitly and repeatedly invoked by Spinoza in his

writings56): when Spinoza’s denial of a substantial status to modes is read as tantamount to

an assertion of their nonexistence, and thus when his substance monism is interpreted as

equivalent to acosmism, it is assumed that Spinoza admits only “real distinctions” in his

metaphysics, i.e. distinctions between things independent of one another, as substances were

for Descartes and as attributes are for Spinoza. Yet whether or not there indeed are modes

in Spinoza’s Nature, the difference between substance and anything like a “mode” would be

more precisely a “modal distinction”:57 for any given mode, this mode could not be

conceived without substance, although substance can be conceived without it.

Unfortunately, not all of Spinoza’s commentators distinguish between substance

monism and acosmism: some take Spinoza’s incontestable denial of substantial status to

modes to amount to an assertion of their illusoriness.58 However, I want to insist that at

55 We could put this still differently, in reference to Spinoza’s Cartesian heritage: when Spinoza

departs from Descartes in maintaining that only God is truly a “substance”, on one picture, we must take him to have meant, in addition, that there is nothing but this one substance; on the other picture Spinoza reclassifies the ontological status of entities Descartes regarded as finite substances, but does not expunge these entities from being altogether.

56 (*) Cf. e.g. 1p10s (II/52); KV AppII[8] (I/118); CM 2.5; Ep. 12. 57 (*) Cf. Spinoza’s Cartesian characterization of the nature of modal distinction in CM 2.5 (I/257);

cf. also 1p15s[V] (II/59) and CM 1.6 (I/248). Cf. Descartes Pr I 61 (AT VIIIA 29). 58 Cf. e.g. Curley: “Joachim's denial of real individuality to particular things” is “[i]n part…simply a

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least at this stage of our inquiry, we cannot simply presume that the two positions are

equivalent. To grasp what I called the most formidable version of the acosmic charge we

thus need to distinguish at least initially between questions of dependence and reality. 59

(iii) The third point that needs to be noted to grasp what is entailed by what I labeled above

the ‘most formidable’ version of the acosmic charge concerns the fact that usually60 – as

indeed I have done, for the most part, thus far – the question of Spinoza’s acosmism is

phrased in terms of the reality of finite things, or finite effects of the divine substance. (Thus

for example Hegel’s remark that Spinoza’s critics rail against Spinoza because he makes the

human “individual” “disappear” from Nature, and these critics “cannot forgive” Spinoza for

“annihilating them” [LHP 3.280-2].61) However, to grasp the full extent of the problem that

deduction from his interpretation of the definitions of substance and mode. If the distinction between substance and mode is merely a more precise formulation of the distinction between things and properties, and if there is only one substance, then there is really only one thing. If there appear to be many things, this must be an illusion.” (SM, 22) Curley’s alternative, to treat modes as efficiently caused effects rather than properties, is then supposed to preserve a multiplicity of “things”. But the status of “properties” does not necessarily entail illusoriness. Infinite modes are as I shall show (§9) perfectly real and discernible for Spinoza although they are mere properties; conversely, the unreality of finite modes does not stem from their status of mere “properties” (see §6).

(*) Cf. Erdmann: “What place is there in his [Spinoza’s] system for individual things, the res particulares…? Spinoza himself associates the most various meanings with the word res. But if one understands, as we would do here, by individual objects or things, beings which exist and persist independently, then properly speaking Spinozism does not admit that there are things at all. …[I]magination alone makes (independent) things out of dependent modes. …Jacobi and Hegel are right in maintaining, especially in contrast with those who reproached Spinoza with having deified the world, that he had rather denied its existence altogether.” (Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophie, v. 2, 61-2; my ital.).

(*) Cf. also Joachim: “all independence [of modes] vanishes when the modes are conceived ‘as they really are’… As they really are they merge themselves in the undifferentiated unity of Substance (Study, 107-8; my ital); “[Spinoza] gives us (not a system of necessarily co-active members, but) a Substance of which all things are but phases or states, whose distinctness and independence are only apparent… so-called things are but modes or states of the self-identical, continuous, and all inclusive Substance. …[T]he multiplicity transmutes itself…into absolute unity” (ibid, 101-2; my ital).

59 An argument could be made that the substance monism and acosmism are inextricable: we shall see why such an argument is ultimately unsuccessful in §5.

60 (*) Cf. e.g. Beiser, Hegel, 65, 76; Ritchie, “Reality of the finite in Spinoza’s system”. 61 This is not to suggest that Hegel himself formulates the problem only in terms of finite things. (*) Hegel also writes e.g., “Spinoza was by descent a Jew; and it is upon the whole Oriental way of

seeing things, according to which the nature of the finite world seems frail and transient, that has found its intellectual expression in his system. …It is marked by the absence of the principle of the Western world, the principle of individuality… The so-called atheism of Spinoza is merely an exaggeration of the fact that he

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Spinoza’s alleged acosmism poses for his causal metaphysics, we must formulate it in more

general terms, as follows: why must there be anything in Spinoza’s Nature besides the infinite

and undifferentiated substantial causa sui? Why should such a being give rise to anything

other than itself, and not merely to its own existence and essence?

Now the first step in attaining to this fully generalized formulation of the problem of

acosmism in Spinoza’s causal metaphysics is to extend our questioning beyond the possible

reasons for substance’s production of finite modes alone. For of course Spinoza’s ontology

(prima facie at least) allows also for infinite modes, such as God’s “infinite intellect”. (This

shows that the irreality of all modes, not just of the finite ones, would be incompatible with

the idea that God knows anything, since the divine “infinite intellect” is itself merely a mode

– although this not to say that there aren’t readers willing to refuse understanding to

Spinoza’s God.62) So, the question that acosmic interpretations pose for Spinoza’s causal

metaphysics is not just why must any finite thing come into existence, or indeed why must

anything like “finitude” be possible in the first place,63 but why must God’s nature give rise

to any kind of mode, whether infinite or finite. To put this question differently, why must

the substantial causa sui produce any effects or any modifications of its own nature?64

Rather curiously (and unfortunately), infinite modes are either outright ignored by

Spinoza’s Idealist readers or simply lumped together with finite modes, as if nothing much defrauds the principle of difference or finitude its due. …[I]in [Spinoza’s] system, finite things and the world as a whole are denied all truth.” (EL §151).

62 (*) Cf. e.g. Jacobi’s comment that Spinoza’s “immanent infinite cause has, as such, explicite, neither understanding nor will. For because of its transcendental unity and thoroughgoing absolute infinity, it can have no object of thought and will.” (CDS, 188).

63 Had Spinoza indeed allowed for the reality of finite things, he would then presumably consider “finitude” a common notion, since all the things we encounter in experience are finite, and we would be able to form an adequate idea of finitude. However, since as we shall see in §6, Spinoza in fact denies the reality of finite things, he also cannot hold that finitude is a genuine common notion (instead, it must be regarded as a “being of the imagination”).

64 Note that this question about the necessity of modes is not a question about the necessity of substance having properties in the sense of “attribute”, through which the essential nature of substance is known.

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hinged on notions of finitude and infinity once we descend from the realm of substance to

the realm of modes. Perhaps this is because infinite modes can appear to be quite marginal

in Spinoza’s writings, a remnant or harbinger of a never-developed doctrine.65 They may

seem to enter the picture for only a few propositions.

This presumption of the marginality of infinite modes to Spinoza’s metaphysics is

unfortunate. As I will demonstrate, it is precisely by distinguishing between infinite and

finite modes that we can finally settle the question of Spinoza’s alleged acosmism.

Moreover, I will argue that Spinoza’s typical references to “modes” or “things” tout court in

his writings must be taken to stand elliptically not for finite modes, as they usually are

interpreted, but precisely for infinite modes.

The second step in giving the acosmic charge its fully generalized articulation is this.

If indeed the question that the Idealist readings lead us to pose, is, Why must there be, in

Spinoza’s metaphysical picture, anything besides the one infinite and undifferentiated substance?, beyond

asking about Spinoza’s justification of modes, finite and infinite, we must also ask about his

reasons for thinking that there must be “attributes”, and indeed an “infinity” (1def6) of

“really distinct” (1p10s; II/52) 66 attributes.67 As Hegel in particular recognizes, this worry is

65 Or perhaps this is because as readers we are naturally concerned with finite things like ourselves –

as Hegel suspected, with our own “annihilation”. Hegel himself sometimes identifies “modes” tout court with finite modes (cf. e.g. LHP 3.260, 264); at

other times acknowledges the existence of infinite modes (cf. e.g. ibid, 270). 66 (*) Also cf. CM 2.5 (I/257). For Descartes’s characterization of the nature of a “real distinction” cf.

e.g. Pr I 60 (AT VIIIA 28). 67 (*) Hegel, writes, e.g. “But Spinoza does not demonstrate how these two [attributes] are evolved

from the one substance, nor does he prove why there can only be two of them” (LHP 3.268-9; cf. 259-60, 268-9). Cf. Joachim: “The variety [of attributes] is somehow God's variety. …[W]e have a right to demand that the 'somehow' should be made consistent and intelligible. But to the question 'How?' we can find no answer in Spinoza: he merely asserts the fact. …There is no principle on which this variety is intelligible as the variety of the one Substance. …The unity of Substance which seemed so absolute…resolves itself into a mere ‘togetherness’ of an infinite multiplicity. The Reality falls apart into a substratum without character, and characters which have no principle of coherence in a substratum. …The failure of the theory so far is a failure to render the moments of the conception of the general nature of Reality intelligibly connected as the moments of a single principle. …Spinoza merely states the togetherness of the Attributes in God as a fact;

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intertwined with the worry about the justification of modes. This is because an “attribute”

by definition makes reference to an “intellect [intellectus]” (1def4), and any “intellect” is for

Spinoza merely a mode (1p31).68 From this point of view, the Idealist reproach against

Spinoza is that he not only fails to show why substance must exhibit attributes, but also that

he makes the very notion of an “attribute” rest on another metaphysical element that he is

equally unable to justify.

Although the Idealists themselves are prone to talk misleadingly about the attributes

as the “moment” “second” to substance,69 the existence of substantial attributes presents an

importantly different kind of justificatory problem than its causation of modes. For to

explain the necessity of the substance’s production of modes we must show why substance

must produce this type of effects, distinct from it not as one substance would be distinct

from another, but as properties would be from a substance they modify. This is a problem

of divine “efficient” causality, in the sense clarified in Chapter 2. The problem created by

the existence of the attributes is very different. We are no longer explaining here the nature

of substance qua “efficient” cause of things that are “modally” distinct from it, or with

and again he merely states as a fact that God comprehends in unbroken unity infinite variety of ultimate characters.” (Study, 103-4; 106)

68 Cf. LHP 3.269-70. Pace Shein, I don’t think Hegel’s criticism of Spinoza’s notion of the attribute is that “the intellect

perceiving the attributes is the finite intellect and that the attributes are projections of the finite mind onto the infinite substance which it cannot fully comprehend” (“Spinoza’s Theory of the Attributes”, 1.8; my ital.). Rather, Hegel’s complaint has to do with Spinoza’s alleged inability to justify the necessity and existence of the intellect as a mode of thought (whether infinite or finite) to which the attributes by definition refers – most generally put, with the absence of deduction of attributes and modes (including any intellect) from substance.

Hegel takes Spinoza to claim that there are only two attributes (cf. e.g. LHP 3.268-9, 263, 260), but doesn’t specify why he draws this conclusion; presumably this is because he rejects the idea that there are aspects of being in principle inaccessible to our understanding. This two-attribute reading allows Hegel to identify “extension” with “nature” or “Being” (ibid, 256-57). Although in a footnote in the KV Spinoza’s indeed identifies “Nature” with “substantial extension” (1.2.[19] g; I/25), it seems that that in his mature work Spinoza would reject Hegel’s restrictive interpretation of the “Being” of substance as mere Extension.

69 (*) For Hegel’s frequent descriptions of “attributes” as “the moment coming second to substance’’, cf. e.g. LHP 3.259-60, 268-9. Cf. Macherey, Spinoza ou Hegel, 32-35, 37; Caird, Spinoza, 142.

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things that are secondary to it either in causal or explanatory terms. For, as is well known, a

Spinozistic attribute “constitutes [constitutere]” the essence of substance (1def4): that is, for

the substance to have a particular attribute is just for this substance to be constituted as

having a particular intelligible essential nature (thus to be, and to be intelligible as, essentially

thinking, essentially extended, and so on). Given Spinoza’s essentialist premises, according

to which there can be no thing without the essence of that thing, and vice versa (2def2),70 we

can consider attributes to be distinct or separable from substance only to the extent that we

can distinguish any res from its own essence. (There will be of course more to the essence of

any substance – and a fortiori to the essence of the only genuinely possible substance, or the

absolutely infinite God – than is contained in its attribute-nature: for a substance is in itself

(i.e., is causa sui) and is conceived in itself, and God furthermore has “infinite” natures, but

these aspects of the nature of substance are not conveyed simply by stating that it is

Extended or Thinking.71) But the fact that we can distinguish between substance and

attribute in this manner does not point to any genuine ontological separability, posteriority or

derivability: an attribute, insofar as it constitutes the essence of substance, can be said come

‘after’ substance only in the explicit order of exposition. To inquire about an attribute is

thus tantamount to inquiring into the essential nature of substance itself, and to ask for the

cause of an attribute is to ask about the substantial causa sui.

This does not mean, however, that, in the context of an inquiry about the accuracy

of acosmic readings of Spinoza’s causal metaphysics, the notion of attribute does not

introduce specific problems of justification over and above those that would arise had we

focused solely on substance’s self-causation. For there are specific features of Spinoza’s

70 Regrettably I do not have room to address Spinoza’s essentialism. 71 (*) Cf. Spinoza’s comment in the KV that attributes differ from substance insofar as we cannot

know that their existence belongs to their essence until we demonstrate that they pertain to substance (KV 1.2nf; I/24).

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theory of the attributes that do rekindle Idealists’ worries. In particular, in addition to

identifying substance and attribute, Spinoza also asserts that the substantial cause has an

“infinity” of such essential natures; that these include Thought and Extension specifically;

and, finally, that all such essential natures are by definition perceived by an intellect. Thus

from the point of view of the acosmic interpretations of Spinoza’s causal metaphysics the

attribute doctrine raises the following questions: once Spinoza posits the existence of a self-

causing substance (and so thereby of a corresponding substantial essence), why must the

essence of substance be intrinsically perceived by the intellect; why must this essence be

conceived of in an “infinity” of ways; and, finally, why must substance be, and be conceived

as, as essentially an Extended thing and as essentially a Thinking thing specifically? (One

may be tempted here to answer the first of these questions immediately by pointing out

(correctly) that in Spinoza’s framework, a causa sui must be conceived through its own

essence (and so a substantial essence must be intelligible and indeed cognized) because, as

we saw in Chapter 2, according to Spinoza conception perfectly tracks causation. This is a

consequence of his endorsement of a formal-causal model of causation (or, alternatively, of

his endorsement of the PSR). But to offer this explanation, although as far as it goes it is

undoubtedly correct, is to push the problem further back: on what grounds then, the Idealist

would ask, is Spinoza entitled to believe that either one of these principles necessarily

holds?72)

In short, responding adequately to the acosmic charge will therefore require us not just to

point out prima facie incompatible doctrines or propositions, or to presume that Spinoza’s

metaphysical views are dictated by his interests in a realistically construed physics of finite bodies,

but rather to display Spinoza’s reasons for thinking that the existence of modes and attributes must

72 We will come back to the question of Spinoza’s justification of the PSR later.

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be entailed by the essential nature of substance. Only then we will be fully justified in claiming that

there are modes and attributes in Spinoza’s Nature, and that such concepts do not represent

therefore merely a lexicon of imaginary terms that in fact do not refer to anything but the infinite

and amorphous substance.

However, one may very well balk at the idea of putting all these questions to Spinoza. For it

is not self-evident that a metaphysical system is obliged to justify its claims to this extreme extent.

(Indeed, as is well-known, when this question of vindicating the world’s most basic constitution

arises, many philosophers – including Descartes, arguably Spinoza’s greatest influence – take refuge

in the obscurity of the will of God, and the incomprehensibility of divine purposes.) But in the

specific framework of Spinoza’s philosophy, we are entitled to this depth and detail of explanation.

This is because of Spinoza’s commitment to the PSR, commitment to the existence73 of a “cause, or

reason [causa seu ratio]”74 for every thing that is, as well as for every thing that fails to be (1p11altd[1];

II/52).75 In the context of our inquiry in the present Chapter, Spinoza’s subscription to the PSR

means that he is committed to the existence of reasons why whatever is must follow from God’s

nature. (Indeed, should the proponents of acosmic readings turn out to be in the right, and modes

proved a mere illusion, the PSR would still entitle us to ask: Why must there be these appearances? That

is, why must substance appear to itself inadequately, as differentiated?76 And finally, Spinoza’s

73 The PSR does not represent merely a commitment to the “intelligibility” of everything, though this

is how it is most often glossed by commentators (cf. e.g. Mason, Spinoza, 5; Della Rocca, Spinoza, 9). Approaching Spinoza’s metaphysics in terms of the “intelligibility” of all things may be misleading insofar as it introduces undesirable modal connotations into the picture, if “intelligibility” is understood as the mere intrinsic possibility of conception. As is well known, Spinoza recognizes only one modality: necessity. So for Spinoza things are not merely intelligible – i.e. capable of being explained – they are already actually understood, i.e. there already necessarily exists an idea of each thing in God's intellect (of course, this entails the “intelligibility” of each thing).

74 From Chapter 2 we can recall that the basic sense of conception or explanation at work in Spinoza’s picture is that of an inference of a necessary property from an essence.

Spinoza’s commitment to the PSR means that we must reject interpretations like Bennett’s that posit neutral trans-attribute features which, by definition, would be inherently unintelligible (Study, 141).

75 (*) Cf. 1ax2 and Ep.10 76 This is because the reality of both finite understanding and of infinite intellect would be in such a

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embrace of the PSR further requires us to ask, why must the PSR hold true in Spinoza’s universe?)

Spinoza’s commitment to the PSR helps us see not only that there must be reasons for the existence

of modes and attributes, should such entities prove to exist, and a reason for the validity of the PSR,

but also that all such reasons must eternally coexist with the reason for divine existence itself, such

that one cannot exist without the other – otherwise, such reasons would come from nothing, and

thus violate the PSR.77

Yet, despite Spinoza’s apparent commitment in principle to the existence of reasons for

whatever is, when one looks at the text it is not immediately evident that the questions raised by the

Idealist criticisms will actually find answers in his writings. What is clear is that, as Spinoza

acknowledged in his letter to Tschirnhaus, he never undertakes the task of demonstrating the

necessity of there being anything like a “mode”, an “attribute”, or “finitude” as an explicit project of

equal magnitude and prominence as his proof, for example, that there can be only one substance

(1p14). (There is, for instance, only one proposition – 1p16, familiar to us already from Chapter 2 –

that seems to have the role of demonstrating that modes must follow from God. But it is not

obvious that this proposition does not amount to a simple assertion that substance gives rise to

modes.)78 But, as already noted, if no reasons can be found in Spinoza’s system for substance’s

necessary production of modes and for its manifestation of an infinity of attributes, with no account case denied, and so it could not explain the existence of such illusions.

Joachim claims that here Spinoza creates for himself an insoluble problem, by denying the reality of finite things, and yet wanting to root the illusion in the finite minds. (“the illusion is a fact – and yet a fact for which no place can be found in Spinoza's conception of the ultimate nature of things. For consider: is ‘natura naturata’ an appearance only to us? If so, how do we come by it? For we are ourselves modes… Or is ‘natura naturata’ an appearance of God to himself? That is true, no doubt, for Spinoza, in the sense in which our apprehension is ‘God's apprehension so far as he constitutes our mind.’ But [to say this]…is to transfer the problem with all its contradictions unsolved to a region where they become fixed and insoluble… For in order to constitute our mind so far as that is distinct or has a finite apprehension, God himself must enter into the indefinite complex of finite modes… An illusion must fall somewhere; for Spinoza, therefore, it must ‘be’ in God. And the question is how this is possible.” [Study, 111-3])

Curley is not charitable to Joachim on this point, not acknowledging the latter’s recognition of the paradox, and instead, treats it as a problem for Joachim’s interpretation (SM, 24-5).

77 (*) Cf. Fichte, CDS, 217. 78 I return to this proposition in detail later.

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of why they remain unknowable to us, the Idealist readings of Spinoza will have proven justified in

their claim that – regardless of Spinoza’s intentions and assertions – his philosophy does not have

the conceptual resources to justify the necessity of any entity beyond the infinite, undifferentiated

causa sui.79 (Moreover, Spinoza will be shown to have failed to follow through on his professed

commitment to the PSR.)

What I want to show in this Chapter is that, despite such inauspicious appearances, in

Spinoza’s system there are significant, although ultimately not sufficient, conceptual resources for

demonstrating the necessity of the various rungs of Spinoza’s ontological ladder. The structure of

the Chapter will be as follows: in the next two sections (§2-3), I will canvass several intuitively

plausible, and oft cited, but ultimately as we shall see deficient explanations of for substance’s efficient

productivity and self-differentiation; this will allow us to clarify further what would be required for

an adequate explanation of this element of Spinoza’s causal picture. In particular, in §3 I will show

that the proposition most often singled out as furnishing Spinoza’s proof of the necessity of modes

in general, and of finite things in particular – 1p16 – is in fact incapable of furnishing either

justification.

Next, in Part II, I will explore the extent to which, as the Idealists insisted, Spinoza’s

metaphysics can indeed be justly seen as anti-pluralist – that is, the extent to which there is indeed

genuine reason to doubt that the Spinozistic substance is a cause of anything other than itself. In

particular, on the basis of clarification of Spinoza’s notion of finitude (§4) I will argue that the

relational constitution of finite things, oft-cited by the Idealists, does not in fact prove their irreality

(§5). Likewise, I will show that superficially plausible arguments from the indivisibility of substance,

and from the restrictions Spinoza places on causal relations between finite and infinite things, also

do not suffice to establish such a conclusion. In §6 I will demonstrate that another aspect of

79 Of course one could also further claim that Spinoza’s substance itself is equally an impossible and incoherent entity. This is a question I will not pursue here.

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finitude does however exclude finite modes from the nature of what ‘is’ sub specie aeternitatis –

namely, the fact that finite things for Spinoza are by definition constituted through negation. This is

because in Spinoza’s framework what is, and what can be grasped by God’s intellect, does not

involve any negation. Thus for Spinoza, finite things qua finite remain only empirically and thus

inadequately knowable. Thus I will conclude that the Idealists’ general conclusion about the

metaphysical insignificance of finitude in Spinoza’s philosophy – if not necessarily the detail of all

their arguments for this conclusion – must be seen as vindicated.

Part II, in short, will undertake to bring into view the aforementioned ‘substantial kernel of

truth’ that can be found in the Idealist interpretations of Spinoza’s causal metaphysics. In Part III,

however, I will show that the further Idealist claim that Spinoza’s rejection of the reality of finite

things means that in his view only the infinite substance exists, and thus that substance’s causality is

solely the causality of a causa sui, must be rejected. In other words, Part III will attempt to flesh out

the anti-acosmic strand of Spinoza’s causal metaphysics, a strand overlooked by his Idealist

commentators. First (§9) I will show that already Spinoza’s definition of substance offers a rebuttal of

acosmic interpretations of Spinoza’s metaphysics. That is, it is already Spinoza’s conception of the

essential nature of substance (and not 1p16, as is most often supposed) that dictates that this

substance will necessarily cause ‘other’ things (specifically, an infinite series of infinite modes of

thought, and the existence of the attribute of thought itself). In §10 I will argue that this allows us

to recognize a feature of Spinoza’s metaphysical picture which to my knowledge has not been

recognized before, namely that Spinoza conceives of “substance” as such as intrinsically a res cogitans.

It is ultimately this conception of the nature of substance that will underlie the necessity of

“attributes” in Spinoza’s metaphysics – the necessity of what is being also necessarily perceived by

an intellect (although I will also suggest – in §11 – that there do not seem to be resources in

Spinoza’s metaphysics to demonstrate the a priori necessity of the attribute of Extension specifically,

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and thus justify the claim that it follows from the nature of substance that it be not just a res cogitans,

but also specifically a res extensa).

This, however, is not the only respect, nor the most important one, in which the Idealist

charge that in Spinoza’s metaphysics substance’s self-differentiation is ultimately left unjustified. For

I will argue in the concluding Part IV of this Chapter that that the richness of the ontological

consequences of Spinoza’s definitions uncovered by Part III means that the most compelling aspect

of the Idealist criticism of Spinoza's system is to be found in Hegel’s charge that Spinoza fails to

justify his definitions. Insofar as this Chapter shows the astounding degree to which Spinoza’s whole

ontological edifice rests on these definitions – namely the fact that according to Spinoza, if

substance itself exists, then on the basis of its definition alone we can infer the necessary existence

of some other elements of Spinoza’s ontology – doubts about Spinoza’s right to claim that his

notions of “substance” or “mode” indeed adequately reflect the essential natures of ‘what is’, cast

doubt on the soundness of his whole system.

§2. Some answers that fall short

As we saw in the introductory section, the challenge that Idealist readings pose for Spinoza’s

metaphysics, in its most succinct form, is this: can we show that the Spinozistic causa sui must, qua

efficient cause, bring about the existence of even a single thing other than itself, or that it must

differentiate itself into an infinity of conceptually distinct essential natures? It is relatively clear what

general form such a demonstration would have to take: what ‘is’ must be what it is because such is the

nature of substance. What is required, in other words, is an a priori explanation from the first cause,

and not just an a posteriori argument from effects. As the first and universal cause from which

everything is derived, the essence of substance must contain the reason for everything that is.

(Contrary to the way contemporary philosophers often argue for their monisms that is, Spinoza

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cannot appeal to empirical findings to make his case, nor can he offer his metaphysics as the “most

plausible” hypothesis.80) It is equally clear, however, that simply to say ‘there are modes and

attributes, because such is the nature of substance’, or because ‘these are the consequences of

substance’s nature’, is not enough. An answer at this level of generality, although undoubtedly true,

is doubly unsatisfactory. It’s unsatisfactory because of its vagueness (which renders it effectively no

different from taking refuge in God’s incomprehensible will) and because it begs the question

against acosmic interpretations. For the Idealist charge is precisely that in Spinoza’s hands substance

becomes a thing from which nothing can follow, an “abyss”, as Hegel put it. To parry this charge we

would have to show the specific reason for which the nature of substance necessitates efficient

production and conceptual self-differentiation.81

There are several plausible candidates for explanation that quite naturally suggest themselves

here – some are justifications of the divine creation of a world familiar from the history of

philosophy; others are solutions hinted at by Spinoza’s particular doctrines. In the remainder of this

section, and in the next section, I want to consider each of these proposed solutions, in order to

show why, in the specific context of Spinoza’s metaphysical picture, each one in the end fails as an

explanation. For these failures will allow us to see more precisely what would be required to

successfully justify substance's self-differentiation.

I will start with explanations that are not specific to Spinoza’s metaphysical picture. The first

of these is that

(i) God has no reason for the generation of a world;

the second, that

(ii) even if God has such reasons, we cannot know them.

80 (*) Cf. e.g. Potrč, “Blobjectivist Monism”, Schaffer, “Monism: The Priority of the Whole”, §2. 81 This reflects Spinoza’s own procedure in the Ethics: for Spinoza’s view is clearly that God’s is the

unique and infinite substance because “such is his nature”; this nonetheless does not stop him from demonstrating why these specific qualities necessarily pertain to God.

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In the framework of Spinoza’s philosophy, the first answer – that God has no reasons – is ruled out

by Spinoza’s commitment to the PSR, and to a formal-cause model of causation.82 The

appropriateness of the second answer – that we simply cannot know God’s reasons – appears to be

equally out of place in Spinoza’s case. This sort of answer has undoubtedly appealed to many

philosophers who had shaped Spinoza’s thinking, not least Descartes. However, this kind of

philosophical humility would be rather atypical for Spinoza, who, quite notoriously, declares that the

“human mind [mens humana]” has “adequate knowledge” of God’s essence (2p47).83 And it is

precisely this essence – the essence of the God who is the cause of every thing – that we have to

know to understand why modes must follow from divine nature. Thus even if, as Spinoza writes,

we can “hardly avoid” falling into a cognitive state in which our knowledge of the divine essence

becomes less “clear [clara]”, because it has been incorporated into a larger and confused idea in

which it is “joined [jungere]” to other, inadequate ideas of God (2p47s; II/128),84 in principle at least

the kind of knowledge that would answer the acosmic worries is available to us on his account.

However, one could object to this optimistic epistemological conclusion, which rules out

solution (ii), along the following lines. According to Spinoza’s schema of the three kinds of

knowledge, the knowledge of how things follow from God’s nature would fall under the third kind

of knowledge (cf. 2p40s2[IV]; II/122). If understanding the necessity of a world of modes requires

scientia intuitiva, such an insight might seem by definition not to be susceptible to an articulation in

terms of reasons.85 On such a view, both the project of the present Chapter and more generally the

82 We will come back to the problem of the relationship between these two commitments. 83 This adequate understanding of God’s essence is presumably expressed in Spinoza’s definition of

God in 1def6. 84 Spinoza’s assertion that any mind will know God’s essence is often regarded by scholars as a bold

and heterodox view on Spinoza’s part (cf. e.g. Nadler, “Spinoza and Philo”, 242-247; Curley, SM 36), yet not many mention that Spinoza also believes that we can “hardly avoid” this knowledge becoming confused..

85 (*) Cf. e.g. Kaufmann: “Neither the work of the artist nor that of Spinoza's God is guided by discursive method and speculation” (“Spinoza’s System as a Theory of Expression” [hereafter, “Spinoza’s System”], 85).

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complaints of readers like Hegel, who demand from Spinoza an explicit derivation, are profoundly

misguided.

However, there are good reasons to conclude that such an objection is mistaken. Let me

mention just a few considerations. First of all, Spinoza generally models the third kind of knowledge

on our understanding of definitions of things (1p16d). But, given a definition of a circle, for example,

we can demonstrate why it must have certain properties (in this indeed lies the possibility of

geometric proofs).86 So our knowledge of the relationship between the essence and a particular

property that follows from it, the relationship that is the subject of the third kind of knowledge –

which Spinoza repeatedly characterizes as the possession of “clear and distinct” “ideas”87 – seems to

be a paradigm of demonstrative knowledge, rather than something paradigmatically ineffable.

Hence Spinoza describes the “eyes of the mind”, presumably referring to intuitive knowledge, as

themselves “demonstrations” (5p23s; II/295).88

Another point worth considering is this. Presumably those who want to consign the objects

of scientia intuitiva to the realm of ineffable intuition would not want to claim that Reason (or the

second kind of knowledge) suffers from (or enjoys) the same kind of ineffability. But what Spinoza

says about these two kinds of knowledge suggests that he doesn’t wish to imply that intuitive

knowledge necessarily has a different object of knowledge than Reason does, but rather simply that

at least sometimes the two differ solely by the path through which they reach the same conclusion.

This conclusion is suggested by Spinoza’s own illustration of the distinction between Reason and

scientia intuitiva on the basis of two different ways of grasping the same mathematical proportion

(2p40s2[IV]; II/122) and again by his own declaration that he himself in the Ethics had demonstrated

86 Spinoza also explicitly describes the relation between divine essence and essences of modes as one

of “inferring” [concludere] (1p16) – which in itself hints at the idea of laying out a series of reasons. 87 (*) Cf . e.g. 5p20s (II/294), 5p28d. 88 Of course it is possible to object here that this is merely a shortcoming of Spinoza’s geometrical

analogy, and a point on which it differs from the causal relations it is supposed to model.

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the eternity of the human mind in both ways (5p36s; II/303). This implies that it would be possible

to articulate the reasons for the necessity of a world of modes relying solely on the second kind of

knowledge.89 Similarly, note that whenever in the later Parts of the Ethics Spinoza is describing the

ideal condition of freedom, in which one has only adequate ideas of all causal interactions one

undergoes, Spinoza typically refers to “Reason” in this context.90 But this again confirms the

significant overlap in the objects of the second and third kinds of knowledge by suggesting that in

Spinoza’s view it is in principle possible to have perfectly adequate knowledge of particular causes

on the basis of ideas of Reason alone.91

This is obviously far from an exhaustive explanation of Spinoza’s conception of scientia

intuitiva or of its relation to the second kind of knowledge. However it suffices to show I think that

there does not seem to be any immediately available conclusive textual evidence that in Spinoza’s

eyes it is in principle impossible to articulate why modes must follow from substance, which

eliminates answer (ii).

A third commonplace explanation for the divine creation of a world is that

(iii) this is an action in view of some end (for instance, it serves to make the most

metaphysically or morally perfect world).92

In the context of Spinoza’s thought, the inappropriateness of this kind of explanation – again, one

embraced by many other Early Modern philosophers, not least Leibniz – is patent and

89 Note that when Spinoza says that he demonstrates the eternity of the human mind using the third

kind of knowledge he is demonstrating eternity of the human mind in general – not of this or that human mind. That is, the notion of particularity at play in the third kind of knowledge is not particularity as an ineffable singularity opposed to all general ideas.

90 (*) Cf. e.g. 4p18s (II/222); or the repeated mentions of “reason’s” power over the affects that is the condition of freedom.

91 I am grateful to Steve Nadler for conversation on this last point.

92 (*) Cf. Kaufmann: “Spinoza's position is best characterized by Leibniz' formula: essentiam per se tendere ad exitentiam” (“Spinoza’s system”, 85n4).

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incontrovertible: as we saw in Chapter 3, Spinoza does not believe that God acts on any ends,

metaphysical or moral. Hence we must reject this genre of explanation as well.

The fourth explanatory route would emphasize Spinoza’s Neoplatonic heritage:

(iv) Something complete or perfect necessarily gives rise to other things; there is a kind of

generous “overflowing” of being, as if from a spring.93

Undoubtedly Spinoza has been influenced by Neoplatonic thinkers.94 But it’s not clear how the

Neoplatonic model of divine production could be justified in Spinozist terms. That is, what sense

could Spinoza give to the idea that the original being produces by virtue of its completeness or

perfection or generosity? Later on (§3 and §9) I will suggest in what sense Spinoza could indeed be

seen as adapting this Neoplatonic model, but, as it stands, this kind of explanation is critically

incomplete.

93 (*) For the Neoplatonic model of production cf. e.g. Plotinus’s claim that “All things when they

come to perfection produce; the One is always perfect and therefore produces everlastingly …” (Enneads V.1.6.37-38); “the One, perfect because it seeks nothing, has nothing, and needs nothing, overflows, as it were, and its superabundance makes something other than itself” (ibid, V.2.1.5-10); “when anything else comes to perfection we see that it produces, and does not endure to remain by itself, but makes something else. This is true not only of things which have choice, but of things which grow and produce without choosing to do so, and even lifeless things… (ibid, V.4.127-36); “How then could the most perfect, the first Good, remain in itself as if it grudged to give of itself or was impotent, when it is the productive power (dunamis) of all things.” (ibid, V.4.127-36).

Cf. also Aquinas: “There is also a natural tendency for all things to diffuse their own good to others, as far as possible. Hence we see that all things existing in act and in their full perfection reproduce their like.” (ST I q. 19, a. 2)

94 As far as evidence for Spinoza’s acquaintance with Neoplatonic thought is concerned – besides any indirect knowledge Spinoza might have had of Neoplatonism through various Medieval and Renaissance Aristotelian thinkers, such as Averroes, Maimonides, or Aquinas – it should be noted that he had Judah Abrabanel’s Dialogues of Love in his library at the time of his death; it is also likely also that he knew the Latin translation of Proclus’s works contained in Aquinas’s Opera (Kristeller, Stoic and Neoplatonic Sources of Spinoza’s Ethics, 12n16). (Indeed, Kristeller contends that it is ultimately to Proclus that Spinoza owes his concept of causa sui, as well as the distinction between Natura naturans and Natura naturata [ibid, 7].) There are remarkable similarities also between Spinoza and Bruno, not just in the sphere of metaphysics – for example, both Spinoza (in KV) and Bruno in De La Causa use the same name – Theophilus/Teofilo – for the main interlocutor in their dialogues (ibid, 4).

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Unlike the foregoing four explanations, the remaining explanations all draw on the specific

resources and commitments of Spinoza’s philosophy. A fifth possible explanation of both the

efficient-causal generation of a Natura naturata and of substance’s own differentiation would be this:

(v) For Spinoza modes and attributes exist just because they are conceivable or possible: assuming

that that they are genuinely possible and compatible with one another, by the PSR their

nonexistence would have to have a “reason or cause” just as much as their existence, but

there is no “thing” that could prevent the unique and infinite substance from producing

them.95 In this vein one could claim more specifically that as a result Spinoza endorses a

version of the Principle of Plenitude, by virtue of the fact that there is no possible

explanation for the noninstantiation of anything that is compossible.96 Some version of this

type of explanation of ontological diversity in Spinoza’s metaphysics has been endorsed by,

among others, Della Rocca, Donagan, Garrett, Koistinen and Matheron.97

95 Spinoza arguably suggests that things can be regarded as such possibles in his definition of a

“Being” as “Whatever, when it is clearly and distinctly perceived, we find to exist necessarily, or at least to be able to exist” (CM 1.1; I/233; ital. altered).

96 Cf. e.g. Friedman, “How the finite follows” (371-3); Lovejoy, The Great Chain of Being, 151ff. Cf. also Newlands: 1p16 asserts that “substance actually gives rise to maximal diversity among the

predications that can be truly made of it”; 1p9 endorses a sub-thesis of “attribute plenitude”; moreover, “finite modes themselves can be conceived in more and less complete ways…distinguished by how many of the object’s external causal relations are included in the relevant concepts. …In this sense, modes isomorphically mirror the expressiveness of substance itself, thus generating another axis of plenitude… intra-attribute mode plenitude” (“Harmony”, §2.1-2; my ital.).

Newlands’ last claim seems questionable, since presumably only one of these ways of conceiving a mode is correct (i.e. the one that includes all the causes), other ways of conceiving are distinguished from it by mere lack; hence this is a merely illusory plenitude.

97 (*) Cf. e.g. Della Rocca: “the more reality a thing has, the more properties follow from its nature. Since God– as the substance of infinite attributes – has the most reality, the most properties possible follow from his nature, i.e. he has all possible properties. …For Spinoza, reality is equivalent to power, and, in this light, we can see what he means by saying that God has the most reality: as a self-sufficient and unique substance, God has the most power possible. If such a substance lacked some power, what could prevent it from having that power?” (Spinoza, 77-78; my ital.)

Cf. Garrett: “[Spinoza] holds that everything whatever exists unless prevented from doing so (EIp11d)… Furthermore, he evidently holds that "substance with less than the greatest possible number of attributes" is a contradiction, on the grounds that greater number of attributes is correlated with greater reality… It is therefore plausible that he would also regard "substance whose attributes express less than the greatest possible reality and perfection through their series of finite modes" as a contradiction, thus making the series of finite modes that expresses the highest degree of reality and perfection necessary, and all lesser series impossible”

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There are indeed several passages in Spinoza’s corpus that hint that some (non-teleological)

variant of the Principle of Plenitude is the fundamental explanatory principle behind substance’s

self-differentiation into modes and attributes.98 However, it is clear that invoking this Principle, or

some other version of the argument from pure possibility, does not yet furnish a satisfactory

explanation for such self-differentiation. For all such arguments still beg Hegel’s question, since they

fail to provide a reason why res other than substance, and an infinity of substantial natures, must be

conceivable or possible in the first place. The notion of an “intrinsic possibility”99 is simply invalid in the

context of Spinoza’s metaphysics, since substance must also be understood to be the cause of all

(“Spinoza’s necessitarianism”, 197-8; my ital.).

Cf. Koistinen.: “If, instead of the maximal system, some other system were actual, there would be no reason why those modes which are compossible with the modes of the actual system were not actual …[I] t is a conceptual truth that each of God’s attributes is perfect. If it were otherwise, God would not be God. Thus, if all possible modes were not realized, God would not exist. …[I]in the same way as it must be required of God that he has all possible attributes, it must be required of God that every possible mode will be in him. The infinity of God’s attributes requires that every possible mode of any attribute must gain actuality.” (“Spinoza’s proof of necessitarianism”, 293, 296; my ital.)

Cf. Matheron: “the simple logical possibility of existing, which has to be granted to anything whose essence can be conceived, really implies a tendency to exist;” “our true idea of…[a] thing does not generally represent it to us simply as equally able to exist or not to exist; other things being equal, our true idea gives preference to existence: it affirms either that its object exists unrestrictedly, or that it exists unless some specific obstacles prevent it from doing so… [T]here is, within the substance itself, a tendency or an endeavor to cause the thing to exist, as well as a power of actualization capable of making it exist” (“Existence, essence”, 25, 29-30; my ital.).

Cf. Steinberg: “all possible attributes must…belong to God or He would not be perfect, hence would not be God. What is true at the level of the attributes is also true of the modes of each attribute… That each attribute must produce every possible mode (i.e., every mode which is conceivable in terms of that attribute) is what Spinoza is saying in E1,16. If it were otherwise God would not be perfect.” (“Spinoza’s Theory of the Eternity of the Mind”, 51; my ital.)

Cf. also Lovejoy, The Great Chain of Being, 151ff 98 (*) Cf. e.g. 1App (II/83); 1def6; 1p9; 1p35; 1p16c1; KV 1.2 (I/21). 99 Pace Donagan, Spinoza, 248; and Newlands, “Harmony”, §2.1-2. (*) Donagan writes, “[Spinoza’s] idea evidently was that an infinite substance would bring about the

existence, as a finite mode, of every intrinsically possible finite essence, unless other finite modes made it impossible to do so. Here Spinoza anticipated Leibniz: his infinite substance necessarily brings into existence the most perfect intrinsically possible system of modes.” (Spinoza, 248; my ital.)

(*) Newlands writes: “if there were an intrinsically possible object that did not exist, such non-existence could be explained only by an incompatibility between it and the maximal compossible set of existents. On the other hand, a positive reason for the existence of anything intrinsically possible will be the fact that there is nothing in the maximal series of compossible objects that prevents or excludes its existence. …Thus, if there is ontological space to be filled, it will be filled. Why? Because, by reductio, if there were unfilled ontological space…there would be something which had no reason for not existing, but which nonetheless didn’t exist.” (“Harmony”, §2.1-2, my ital.)

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possibilities.100 As Spinoza explicitly puts this point, “God is the efficient cause, not only of the

existence of things, but also of their essence [essentiae] …from the given divine nature both the essence

of things and their existence must necessarily be inferred (1p25,s [II/67-8]; my ital.).101 The realm

of essences is precisely the realm of possible entities.102

This conclusion that substance is the cause of all possibilities is implicit of course also in

Spinoza’s characterization of God as the first, uncompelled, universal, and entirely self-determining

cause of all that exists and all that God understands.103 If this God were responsive to, or

recognized, a realm of independently existent possibilities, or of “intrinsically possible” essences, he

would be acting in a way that does not follow entirely from his own nature. This would be contrary

not only to Spinoza’s claim that God is entirely self-determined (1p17), but also to his assertion that

everything that “falls under” the divine intellect follows from God’s own nature (1p16).104 (Indeed,

Spinoza’s admission of a realm of genuine intrinsic possibles would introduce objective contingency

into his system).105

We can put the present point in terms of the reigning justifications of Spinoza’s claim that

God has all possible attributes: it is true that no “thing” can prevent God from instantiating any

particular attribute, since there is nothing outside, or independent of, God, and, given Spinoza’s

100 Indeed, since Spinoza eliminates modal diversity in his metaphysics, appealing to the “intrinsic possibility” of things as many scholars do, does not advance our inquiry very much: anything genuinely possible would for Spinoza also be necessary (and, qua essence, eternally actual). So to explain the existence of attributes and modes by saying that substance gives rise to all conceivable or possible things amounts to saying that that substance gives rise to all things it actually does give rise to, which is true, but thoroughly unilluminating. Of course it remains open for someone who favors this approach to say that Spinoza’s God produces all that is genuinely possible (necessary/actual) from among things that are ‘possible’ in a looser sense. In this case explaining why something is actual (necessary, ‘genuinely possible’) and not just ‘possible’ in the looser sense would indeed be an advancement.

101 I analyze this proposition in detail in Chapter 2. Cf. also 1p15: “Whatever is, is in God, and nothing can be or be conceived without God”. 102 Of course for Spinoza all genuinely possible essences are also necessarily realized. 103 (*) Cf. esp. 1p15; 1p16c1; 1p16c3; 1p17,c1. 104 We should also not forget that for Spinoza the substantial “infinite intellect” itself follows from

God’s nature (1p31), and so cannot predetermine what God produces, although it could in principle be invoked to explain finite modes.

105 I’m grateful for this point to Charles Larmore.

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prohibition on inter-attribute causation (1p3), no attribute can preclude God’s instantiation of

another attribute.106 But the question that remains unanswered is, why must anything like Thought

or Extension be possible in the first place as a way for substance to (intelligibly) be? In short,

appealing to the sheer conceivability, or possibility, of substantial attributes and of res other than

substance also fails to furnish a satisfactory explanation of their necessity.107

A sixth possible explanation of substance’s production of a Natura naturata – one that

overlaps in some respects with the explanation just examined – turns on the idea of the essential

“power” of substance:

(vi) As is well known, Spinoza identifies God’s essence and God’s causal “power [potentia]”

(1p34). That is, God for Spinoza is essentially a causal power. Given Spinoza’s

necessitarianism, and given that there is no thing that could thwart the power of a unique

and infinite substance (and since there cannot be any reason why substance would

necessarily limit itself108), God actually produces all that he is capable of producing.109 (As

Spinoza proclaims, “Whatever we conceive to be in God's power, necessarily exists” [1p35].)

Hence God’s essence must bring about some effect(s), that is, it must produce some modes,

under whatever attributes God can produce them. Moreover, God’s effects would

necessarily reflect the infinite capacity of their cause; a world of infinitely many finite things

fits the bill well here. (Hence we can see Spinoza as upholding here the tradition of medieval

thinkers for whom God’s infinite causal prowess necessitates an infinite effect: the inherent

limitedness of finite things requires an infinite hierarchy of such creatures, in order for the

106 (*) Cf. e.g. Della Rocca, Spinoza, 53. 107 I return to the question of justifying the Principle of Plenitude in Spinoza’s philosophy later. 108 For Spinoza a limitation of God’s nature would be tantamount to a contradiction, both affirming

and denying the existence of this nature. Cf. e.g. 1p8s1; KV 1.2 b (I/20). Moreover, as I will argue later, substance for Spinoza does not in fact have the capacity for negation in thought.

109 Cf. Spinoza’s appeal to 1p34 in 1p36 (discussed at length in Chapter 2): according to 1p36d, to express divine power is to produce effects.

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effect to remain suitably infinite, given an infinite cause.110) Accordingly, Spinoza announces

that “God’s power is nothing except God's active essence [actuosam essentiam]”, glossing this

“acting” or “actuality” 111 of the divine essence as “do[ing] infinitely many things in infinitely

many modes [infinita infinitis modis agere]” (2p3s [II/87]), that is, as the production of an

infinity of modes under an infinity of attributes.112 And, once we assume the identity of

essence and causal power in a necessitarian and substance-monistic framework, it will be, as

Spinoza insists, “as impossible [impossibile] for us to conceive that God does not act [agere] as

it is to conceive that he does not exist” (ibid). That is, once we grasp God’s essential nature

we will see not just that such a being necessarily exists, but also that it necessarily produces

modes.

Some version of this kind of argument has been advanced by Carriero,113 Deleuze,114

Giancotti,115 and Matheron,116 among others.117

110 Aquinas for example explains the necessity of production of infinite grades of Being by the

general principle that “every agent intends to introduce its own likeness into its effect, so far as the effect can receive it”, however, given the infinity of God as cause, “created things cannot attain to a perfect likeness of God so long as they are confined to one species of creature…since the cause exceeds the effect, what is in the cause simply, and unifiedly is found in the effect in a composite and multiple fashion” (SCG II.45 [2-3]). Receiving the likeness of the agent is the “actualization” of God’s power (ibid, [3]).

111 For discussion of Spinoza’s two senses of actuality see previous Chapter. In this particular instance, presumably the atemporal sense of actuality is most relevant.

112 For identification of power and act in Neoplatonism cf. e.g. Bruno (On Cause, Principle, and Unity, Dial. 3.)

113 Carriero writes, e.g.: “Spinoza relies on a conception of efficient causality that implicitly denies that there are agents that might somehow elect not to use some of their power. For Spinoza, showing that God has the power or reality to do something is tantamount to showing that he does it. The principle "from a given cause the effect would follow," and its close cousin, "From a given determinate cause the effect follows necessarily; and conversely, if there is no determinate cause, it is impossible for an effect to follow" (IA3; Curley, 410), preclude the existence of an unexercised power.” (“Spinoza’s views on necessity from a historical perspective”, 63).

(Note, however, that contrary to Carriero's suggestion, 1ax3 is not about divine causality but about the causality of finite – “determinate” – things, so although it is indeed the case that God produces everything necessarily, this is not asserted in this particular axiom.)

114 Deleuze writes, e.g. : “To say that the essence of God is power, is to say that God produces an infinity of things by virtue of the same power by which he exists. He thus produces them by existing…” (Expressionism, 93-5; cf. 102; orig. ital.).

Of the commentators here mentioned Deleuze goes perhaps furthest in justifying this line of argument: on the basis of Spinoza’s claim that the “power” of a thing fluctuates correspondingly to the

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There is an obvious non-sequitur in the above account as it stands. For, contrary to what is

asserted by some scholars,118 there is no straightforward entailment in Spinoza’s system from the

necessity of substance realizing its essential causal capacity to its production of modes, even if we

affections this thing undergoes (cf. 3def3), Deleuze suggests that God’s affections are necessary to express God’s infinite degree of power: “in Spinozism all power bears with it a corresponding and inseparable capacity to be affected” (Expressionism, 93-5); “God's essence cannot be his power without an infinity of things proceeding from it…[S]ubstance, by virtue of its power, exists only in its relation to modes: it has an absolutely infinite power of existence only by exercising in an infinity of things” (ibid). In my view this continues to leave unanswered the question, why must power be defined as the power to produce affections? It’s also not clear to me that Spinoza ever demonstrates that all expression of power requires affections.

115 (*) Giancotti writes, “[Spinoza] was wrong [in Ep. 83] in believing that he had to look for an a priori demonstration of bodily multiplicity. …In the attribute [which is “substance’s own power to act”] of Extension-matter, Spinoza already had the principle from which to deduce the variety of bodies… [E]ssence equals power… God acts simply because he is. Substance is a dynamic principle which…transmits and continues itself in an infinity of forms which together make up the universe. Multiplicity is at the heart of substance, because it includes infinite qualitative determinations. The problem of the deduction of the many from the one does not exist. ... The passage from the attributes to the modes…entail[s]…the articulation and infinite pluralization of the modes of the being, as a spontaneous explication of its power. … [Spinoza’s] original conception of substance and its attributes as a dynamic principle which, though it remains one, is realized by pluralizing itself to infinity” (“On the Problem of Infinite Modes”, 110-1, 113).

116 (*) Cf. Matheron: “[Spinoza] assimilat[es] the power of existence to causal power in general” with “the consequent assimilation of existence itself to the production of effects. …For substances, to exist is to produce effects”; “[the] essence [of a substance] gives the substance an infinite causal power, which, if it allowed the substance to exist, would at the same time cause it to produce an infinity of things;” “God, by definition, necessarily produces within himself infinitely many things” (“Essence, existence”, 30-1, 33.)

117 (*) Cf. e.g. Harris: “Each attribute…[being a “dynamic principle”] specifies itself according to its special nature, Thought is an activity… Motion-and-rest is…Extension manifesting itself as activity” (Salvation from Despair, 50, 64-5).

Cf. also Kaufmann: “[A] power exists only in its manifestations. Existence, ex-sistence, means the stepping forth of this unbound power. …Substantially power, He is not restricted to a mere attempt to be and to persist in being – to that conatus by which the particular modes try to assert their actual essence… Spinoza's substance [is] a dynamic being. It is not an inert mass subsisting at the bottom of change, but a powerful essence as well as an essential power. …[E]xistence in the sense of forthcoming is the proper and necessary verification of God's being. …God's essence in-volves existence. Consequently existence e-volves God's essence. The whole of existence – the universe – is the version, or one version, through which the unity of his being unfolds itself;” “The absolute unlimited power [of God] cannot be prevented and, therefore, cannot fail to prove itself and its existence. …Its expression is inevitable: it can neither be obstructed nor can it be withheld. Its appearance is not a favor but is involved in the very essence of Deus-Natura. …Substantially power, He is not restricted to a mere attempt to be and to persist in being – to that conatus by which the particular modes try to assert their actual essence in the stream and struggle of life.” (“Spinoza’s System”, 85-7).

Cf. also Lovejoy, The Great Chain of Being, 162. 118 See Parkinson (“Hegel, Pantheism and Spinoza”, 455), and Melamed (“Acosmism”, MS 11) for

the claim that the fact that divine nature must produce effects requires it to produce modes. Giancotti also claims that the concept of “being in God” “indicat[es] the existence of things

insofar as they follow from the eternal necessity of the nature of God” (“On the Problem of Infinite Modes”, 111); but in fact the concept of “being in God” describes God as well as modes.

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accept as premises Spinoza’s identification of substance’s essence with causal power, his substance-

monism, and his necessitarianism. This is because, as is well known, God for Spinoza (in a

departure from most medieval thinkers) is a causa sui; as a consequence already God’s own existence

as such already constitutes an (infinite) actualization or activity of God's essential causal power.119

And here the charge made by the Idealists resurfaces anew. For what are Spinoza’s reasons

for holding that the realization of substance’s causal capacities must include not just the production

of God’s own existence and essence, but also the production of modes? That is, if in Spinoza’s

necessitarian framework every causal potentia must be made actual, why must the ‘actualization’ of

the substantial potentia manifest itself as a world of modes? Why must the essence of substance entail

the capacity for having affections or properties? (In a non-Spinozistic context, one could respond

that a universe in which God produces only one effect – his own existence – however adequate such

an effect may be as an actualization of an infinite causal power, is much less “good”, in some

metaphysically or theologically relevant sense, than a universe in which there is an infinite and

diverse hierarchy of things, thus a universe instantiating the Principle of Plenitude. Manifestly,

however, justifying the production of modes in this manner is not an option in Spinoza’s

framework, given that this framework does not allow either “goodness” or “order” to describe the

intrinsic nature of things [1App; II/78, 81-2].)

The seventh kind of explanation, and the final one that will concern us in this section, is

more of a programmatic recommendation, rather than a fully developed solution:

119 One could object here that for Spinoza God's own existence does not fall under the category of

the “activity” of substance, i.e. that substantial “activity” has for Spinoza a specific and narrow sense that refers to the production of modes alone. However this is in no way borne out by the text: 1p16, 2p3s and 4Pref (II/206) where this notion is prominent in the relevant context simply relate activity to what follows from the divine essence; clearly God's own existence and essence are so inferable as well.

Whether or not Spinoza regards God's essence and existence as an “effect” is unclear. It is possible that Spinoza would reserve this nomenclature for affections. Textual evidence on this topic is scarce and inconclusive. What is clear is that Spinoza does not refrain from thinking of God’s existence as something “produced” (cf. e.g. 1p6,d,c; 1p7d).

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(vii) Someone who raises the question of the necessity of substance’s self-differentiation, as

the Idealists have, is making a lot of fuss about nothing, by raising a problem to which

Spinoza has already explicitly outlined a solution. For in his writings Spinoza repeatedly

defends the thesis that God is an extended thing;120 and in the Ethics he also explicitly

demonstrates that God must have the attribute of Thought (2p1). It is also to these

demonstrations that such a critic ought to look to extrapolate a proof of the necessity of

substance’s causation of modes from Spinoza’s proofs of the necessity of the attributes.

The problem with the above suggestion is that not only do Spinoza’s official arguments for

the God's possession of the attributes of Thought and Extension fail to furnish conceptual

resources to demonstrate the necessity of modes, when judged by the criteria of the Idealist worry

they fail even to produce full proofs of the necessity of these two attributes.121 Consider Spinoza’s

most frequent line of defense of his heterodox claim that God is a res extensa. The argument is

underpinned by the PSR, and alleges that God must be regarded as Extended because, contrary to

what other thinkers may allege, nothing unbecoming to divine nature – such as divisibility and thus

destruction – follows from such a philosophical move.122 That is, there is no good reason why God

cannot be Extended; hence God must be Extended.

The problem with this argument stems from its polemical and ad hoc nature: even if it

manages to assuage fears about potential heresy, it does not guarantee that there is no possible reason

why God cannot be extended. Nor – to echo the problem that haunted Explanation (v) – does it

amount to a proof of the possibility of anything like “Extension”. Nor, finally, does this particular

polemical argument advance our understanding of the necessity of other attributes, such as Thought

120 (*) Cf. e.g. 2p2, 1p15s (II/57-60), Ep. 12. 121 I do not mean to imply that the propositions to which Explanation (vii) alludes to were intended

by Spinoza to provide this kind of explanation; I will show later in what propositions his justification of attributes is to be found.

122 (*) Cf. e.g. 1p15s (II/57-60), Ep. 12.

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(from the point of view of tradition, there is hardly a more suitable quality that could be attributed to

a divine being than thought)123 or the necessity of anything like an “attribute” in the first place.

In his writings Spinoza also offers two arguments for the thesis that God has the attribute of

Thought (2p1), adding simply, and rather unhelpfully, that the demonstration of the divine attribute

of Extension “proceeds in the same way” (2p2d). The first of these arguments tacitly turns on the

PSR and the traditional definition of “mode” as an intrinsically dependent entity, and amounts to an

a posteriori argument from our experience of existing finite thoughts. (Although there are other

possible a posteriori proofs that could be constructed on Spinoza’s behalf.124) Spinoza points out

that as mere modes, finite thoughts require a substance of the appropriate kind through which they

can be conceived (2p1d).125 Since this argument takes the existence of substance’s effects as a brute

empirical given, it does not attain to the demonstrative standard we are after: it cannot show us why

it is in the nature of substance to be essentially Thinking and essentially Extended.

Indeed, Spinoza himself doesn’t seem satisfied with this kind of proof, and immediately

offers another one.126 This second argument relies, more promisingly, on the capacity of thought

itself to demonstrate necessary truths about the nature of substance. More specifically, it hinges on

the idea that substance must have the attribute of Thought because “we can conceive an infinite

Being” – that is, “a being that can think infinitely many things in infinitely many ways” – “by

123 As Spinoza himself notes, “everyone maintains unanimously” that “it follows from the necessity of the divine nature…that God understands himself” (2p3s; II/87) (cf. Spinoza’s reference to the medieval (Aristotelian) Jewish view of “[s]ome of the Hebrews” that “God, God's intellect, and the things understood by him are one and the same” [2p7s; II/90]; cf. Maimonides: “God is the intellectus, the intelligens, and the intelligibile” [GP 1.68]).

124 For example, one could proceed by analogy with Spinoza’s a posteriori proof for God’s existence in 1p11altd, where Spinoza appeals to the fact that something infinite has more “power” to exist than a finite thing, so the existence of finite things but not of infinite ones would be absurd. We could reformulate this as follows: it would be absurd for finite ideas to exist but no infinite thinking thing, given that something infinite has more power to exist.

125 And we can add, by which they must be ultimately caused. In contrast, Deleuze takes the linchpin of this a posteriori proof in 2p1d to be the infinity of the

attribute (Expressionism, 45-5). 126 For Spinoza’s assertion of the superiority of a priori (from cause) proofs over a posteriori ones

(from effects) cf. e.g. KV 1.1 (I/15-18); 1.7 (I/47); CM 2; I/249; also cf. 1p11s; II/54.

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attending to thought alone [ad solam cogitationem attendendo Ens infinitum concipiamus]” (2p1s; II/86).127

Spinoza’s argument seems to be that the very notion of “thought” entails the possibility of an

infinite being of the relevant kind, and hence, by the definition of essence (2def2), thought is the

kind of thing that can constitute the essence of an infinite being. As such, thought must be

attributed to God. The same, presumably,128 goes for Extension: it can arguably be represented as

infinite, and thus can constitute the essence of an infinite being.

It’s not clear that such arguments are very good. For what guarantees that our conception of

an infinite thinking being in fact manages to express a true essence?129 More importantly, although

these arguments do not appeal to inferences from finite things brutely given in experience – and to

this extent are undoubtedly an improvement on the first argument – they nonetheless do not

succeed in assuaging the Idealist worries. For they still do not explain why anything like “Thought”

or “Extension” – not to mention an “infinity” of attributes – should have been necessary in the first

place: why the essence of the only possible substance must be the essence of a Thinking thing and

of an Extended thing. If it is valid, the proof offered in the scholium of 2p1 can thus at most justify

the attribution of Thought and Extension (independently proved to be a possible) to the sole possible

substance, but it does not seem to have been intended to provide the kind of ground-level

justifications that the Idealists seek.

In short, just like the previous explanations we have canvassed in this section, Spinoza’s

various justifications of divine attributes throughout his writings do not shed enough light on the

necessity of ontological elements other than substance in Spinoza’s system. There is one last kind of

127 I return to this proof, and to the question of what it means to be an “infinite thinking thing”, later. 128 Presumably, because it’s not clear if Spinoza means to refer to just the demonstration (and so just

to the a posteriori proof) or also to the scholium when he says in 2p2d that the demonstration of the attribute of Extension “proceeds in the same way” as the demonstration of the divine attribute of Thought.

129 Della Rocca objects to Spinoza’s proof along similar lines (Spinoza, 57). I will return to this problem in relation to Spinoza’s definitions later.

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possible answer to the Idealist critique that we need to consider before I can turn to outlining my

own proposal. This forms the subject of the next section.

§3. 1p16

In Chapter 2 we had looked at 1p16 in the context of its very clear exhibition of Spinoza’s

formal-causal model, on which causal effects are to be considered analogous to properties inferred

from a definition. As I also briefly noted earlier, in the Ethics it is unquestionably this proposition

that has the appearance of having been intended to deliver a justification of substance’s production

of modes. For it is this proposition that in the course of the gradual unfolding of Spinoza’s system

marks the moment at which he asserts that properties follow from the essence of substance.130 It is

precisely 1p16 that Tschirnhaus invokes when interrogating Spinoza about the possibility of deriving

a multiplicity of things from substance, calling it “almost the most important proposition” of the

first Part of the Ethics (Ep. 82). And those commentators who do address the now-neglected

tradition of acosmic readings of Spinoza’s philosophy typically tout 1p16 as the place of a

categorical rebuttal of such readings, the proposition that establishes the necessity of substance’s

production of modes, and especially of finite modes.131 Even commentators not directly engaged in

130 As already noted in Chapter 2, 1p15 in contrast for example only establishes that whatever is, is in

the substance, but not that anything other than substance actually is. 131 Both Melamed and Ritchie point to 1p16 as answering to the Hegelian demand for derivation, but

neither 1) shows that the modes at stake in 1p16 are finite, nor 2) explains why the essence of God must be such we must infer from it finite modes, nor shows why anything like a “mode”, or anything like “finitude”, must be possible given the nature of substance.

Ritchie asserts merely that “From proposition XVI of Part I, and from not a few other passages, we gather that Spinoza had fully grasped the idea on which modem German idealists…have laid such stress, that an absolute being which should not imply self-differentiation, evolution, an 'anders-sein,' would be a mere nonentity” (“Reality of the finite in Spinoza’s system”, 20-1).

Melamed’s basic claim is that modes must follow because they are propria (“in E1p16d Spinoza makes clear that the modes follow from God’s essence (or definition) insofar as the modes are the properties [proprietates] that follow the definition of the thing defined… Spinoza uses the term ‘proprietates’ in the narrow sense of propria, i.e., properties or qualities which follow necessarily from the definition of a thing. This flow of modes from God’s essence might not be the dialectical self-negating unfolding by which – Hegel claims – modes should have been derived as the opposite moments of substance. It seems, however, that

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the controversy over Spinoza’s alleged acosmism see 1p16 as establishing the necessity of finite

things in Spinoza’s metaphysics,132 either because this proposition paints God as an unstoppable

“efficient cause” that must produce all possible effects (Carriero),133 or as a being with “all possible”

“properties” (Della Rocca),134 or one that must give rise to a “maximal diversity” of predications

(Newlands).135

In what follows I want to examine 1p16 in detail because I want to show that, contrary to

how it is usually interpreted, it is in fact incapable of furnishing a justification of the necessity of

substance’s causation of any kind of modes, and that in fact it provides good reasons to doubt that

from the point of view of a true account of Nature sub specie aeternitatis we can count finite

modes in particular among substance’s effects. In the remainder of this section, I will thus try to

flesh out the meaning of 1p16, and to draw out its implications for substance’s production of

modes in general; in §6 I will consider its implications for the reality of finite substantial effects

specifically.

Let me begin by citing the proposition and its demonstration in their entirety:

From the necessity of the divine nature there must follow infinitely many [things] in infinitely many modes (i.e., everything which can fall under an infinite intellect.) [Ex necessitate divinae naturae infinita infinitis modis (hoc est omnia quae sub intellectum infinitum cadere possunt) sequi debent]

Hegel’s complaint about the lack of derivation of modes is unjustified, and that with it falls Hegel’s main justification for viewing modes as unreal entities.” [“Acosmism”, MS 5])

It seems however that from Hegel’s point of view this kind of answer would simply beg the question (for why must substance have affections?) Thus in a footnote Melamed rightly recognizes that his account leaves the crucial question unanswered: “One can further press Spinoza by asking why the modes follow from God’s essence” and suggests “Presumably, Spinoza could appeal to the very definition of God (E1d6) and argue that God’s absolute infinity requires the instantiation of modes” (ibid, 5n25). However, as I will show later, it’s not clear that any sort of argument from the absolutely infinite reality of God can substantiate the existence of finite modes.

132 (*) Cf. e.g. Della Rocca (“my existence does follow simply from the definition of God. This is precisely Spinoza’s point in 1p16 and its demonstration” Spinoza, 257); Friedman (who is “convinced” that “Spinoza means to include finite things in the range of the quantifier, omnia” in 1p16) (“How the finite follows”, 373-4).

133 (*) Cf. note 113. 134 (*) Spinoza, 77-78. Cf. Steinberg, note 97. 135 (*) Cf. notes 96 and 99.

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Dem.: This Proposition must be plain to anyone, provided he attends to the fact that the intellect infers from the given definition of any thing a number of properties that really do follow necessarily from it (i.e., from the very essence of the thing); and that it infers more properties the more the definition of the thing expresses reality, i.e., the more reality the essence of the defined thing involves [ex data cujuscunque rei definitione plures proprietates intellectus concludit, quae revera ex eadem (hoc est ipsa rei essentia) necessario sequuntur et eo plures quo plus realitatis rei definitio exprimit hoc est quo plus realitatis rei definitae essentia involvit]. But since the divine nature has absolutely infinite attributes (by [1]def6), each of which also expresses an essence infinite in its own kind, from its necessity there must follow infinitely many things in infinite modes (i.e., everything which can fall under an infinite intellect), q.e.d.

The most basic claim of 1p16 is that modes must follow from the essence of substance

because the definition of any thing will allow us to infer some properties. Prima facie then,

Spinoza’s justification of the necessity of substance’s production of modes in 1p16 might thus look

like no more than a dogmatic assertion. (It is thus perhaps no wonder that Hegel, for one, although

he is consumed precisely with this question of what a Spinozistic substance can cause, pays it almost

no attention.136) Clearly, to rebut the Idealist readings it would not be enough simply to assert that

modes must follow from God because they must be inferred from his definition (that is, because we

can understand God’s essential nature as having these particular consequences). For of course the

question is precisely why should any property – in the specific sense of a mode (and not for example

in the sense of God's own existence)137 – be necessarily inferable from God’s definition?138 To put

this differently, why should God’s essence be such that it is impossible to conceive of it as entailing

solely God’s own existence, infinity, self-explicability and any other essential substantial property

(and even the property of ‘having an essence’)?

136 To the extent that a material cause is “that out of which” the effect is produced, 1p16 suggests

that we see God’s essence as the material cause of all that is, thus completing our picture of what happens to the quartet of Aristotelian causes in Spinoza’s framework. For similar conclusion cf. Carriero, “Spinoza’s definitions of mode and substance”.

137 We need to keep in mind that here we are not asking here about properties in the sense of attributes, which for Spinoza are identical to essence, even though for example someone like Descartes treated them often as equivalent to modes and qualities.

138 Of course, an even more basic question would be: why should we accept this definition of God? And why should God be definable at all? I return to these issues later.

Note that Spinoza rejects the Aristotelian mode of defining through genus and species differentia.

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We may wonder then if for Spinoza there is something patently inconceivable about a

substance that has no properties in the sense of affections or modifications or efficiently-caused

effects.139 Clearly, to explain the inconceivability of such a ‘bare’ or property-less substance we

cannot invoke worries about the indiscernibility of this substance from another substance; such

worries have no place here, given that God for Spinoza is the unique substance.140 Similarly,

appealing to the PSR does not suffice to establish the necessity of properties, since to conceive of

substance it is enough to grasp its essence – that is, after all, what it means for substance to be

conceived in itself, as its definition requires. A property-less substance would strictly speaking of

course be incoherent for another reason. This is because for us to conceive of it as property-less is

already to attribute to it the property of conceivability – more precisely, adjusting for Spinoza’s

framework, the property of being conceived through a (formally finite) mode of thought. That is,

insofar as we admit to conceiving of substance, we cannot, on pain of “manifest repugnancy”, as

Berkeley puts it,141 conceive of it as entirely property-less or entirely mode-less.142 Although this

does not show that this idea of substance follows necessarily from substance, it does show that it is

an incoherent position to propose that we can conceive of Spinozistic substance as deprived of all

modes. Of course – whether or not he is entitled to these further claims – Spinoza does not limit

substance’s affections to its production of such ideas of substance (although in principle a

139 Since for Spinoza God’s existence is “one and the same [unum et idem]” as God’s essence (1p20), it

cannot count as a “property” that “follows” from this essence, as that would require us to commit the cardinal ontological sin of conflating a thing’s “essence” with a mere “property”. For Spinoza’s warning against such a confusion cf. e.g. TdIE §95.

140 (*) Cf. “if someone now asks by what sign we shall be able to distinguish the diversity of substances, let him read the following propositions, which show that in Nature there exists only one substance, and that it is absolutely infinite. So that sign would be sought in vain.” (1p10s; II/52).

141 (*) On the Principles of Human Knowledge, 22-23. 142 Indeed, this constitutes another proof of the necessity of the attribute of thought in Spinoza’s

metaphysics, on the condition that we accept the ontology of mode and substance with its specific relations of dependency: since it is incoherent for us to deny that there is a finite idea of substance, it is also incoherent for us to deny that substance must be thinking, since a finite idea must inhere in the appropriate kind of substance. But again this does not furnish a proof of the necessity of Thought on the basis of the essential nature of substance.

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metaphysical scenario in which such ideas would be the substance’s only effects is at least prima

facie coherent143). Instead, Spinoza’s view is that “From the necessity of the divine nature there

must follow infinitely many [things] in infinitely many ways”.144 We are back then at, or at least not

very far advanced from, square one, namely at the problem of the justification of 1p16.

If we examine the demonstration of this proposition, it seems that to ward off the charge

that 1p16 amounts to nothing more than a dogmatic assertion would require justifying the thesis –

one largely overlooked by commentators145 – on which the whole demonstration appears to hinge,

namely the thesis that “the more reality the essence of [something] involves”, the “more properties”

can be inferred from it. As a shorthand, we can call this principle the Reality-to-Properties Rule

(RPR). According to this Rule, any “thing” with at least some minimal “reality”,146 will give rise to at

least some properties. Phrased in more straightforwardly causal language, the rule states that any thing

that exists will be a (formal) cause in proportion to the degree of its “reality”.147

It is this RPR then that dictates that God’s essence must be such that it is impossible to

conceive of it as giving rise solely to God’s own existence. (It is also RPR that would justify us in

treating Spinoza as somebody who endorses the Principle of Plenitude, as some scholars suggest, as

we saw in the previous section. For, by the RPR, if the “reality” of substance is “absolutely infinite”

(1def6) this essence must also give rise to absolutely infinite properties. Similarly, given Spinoza’s

143 Note that we haven’t yet established the necessity of any other attribute, with which these ideas would constitute “one and the same” individual, as per Spinoza’s parallelism doctrine in 2p7s.

144 Moreover, it’s not clear that can describe our conclusion as inferring this property of ‘conceivedness’ from the definition of the thing, as 1p16d depicts effects, since it is rather inferred from the fact that we are defining this thing.

As we shall see later, there is another way to show that substance by its very nature will be conceived of.

145 The rare commentators who do mention Spinoza’s appeal to this principle to explain the existence of modes not always inquire into Spinoza’s justification of this principle (see e.g. Della Rocca, Spinoza, 77-78). Carriero points out its Cartesian roots (“Spinoza’s views on necessity”, 63).

146 In order not to generate an unnecessary confusion between on the one hand, this sense of ‘reality’ as employed here by Spinoza, and, on the other hand, the more informal sense of ‘reality’ as I’ve been using this term in discussing the Idealist readings, I will denote this new, technical sense of “reality” by keeping the quotation marks.

147 (*) Cf. 1p36.

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identification of “perfection” and “reality” (2def6), RPR could furnish a Spinozistic equivalent to the

Neoplatonic claim that the “perfection” of the first cause necessitates its “overflowing”.) But all

such explanatory advances hinge on our ability to justify RPR itself. Hence, although Spinoza’s

assertion of this Rule promises to shed some light on some of our earlier questions, it also raises an

immediate and obvious worry: on what grounds is Spinoza entitled to this Rule – that is, to the claim

that a thing must produce more properties the more “reality” it has? In the tradition continued by

Descartes, “reality”, and degrees of “reality”, have typically been defined in terms of causal

independence (modes, for example, have less reality insofar as they depend for their existence, and a

fortiori for their causal power, on some substance). But Spinoza seems to measure “reality” not just

in terms of lack of existential dependence but in terms of a positive causal power to produce more

effects and to produce them independently of any external causes. This is evident not only from the

demonstration of 1p16 but is also implicit in Spinoza’s description of God as an “infinite thinking

thing” insofar as he thinks infinitely many things (2p1s) (remembering that for Spinoza a divine idea

would be an act of the divine understanding). This understanding of the nature of “reality” also

emerges in Spinoza’s statement that a body contains more reality “in proportion as [it] is more

capable than others of doing many things at once, or being acted on in many ways at once” (2p13s;

II/97) and it is implicit also in his gloss of “reality” as “the essence of each thing insofar as it exists

and produces an effect” (4pref; II/209).

An obvious way to tackle this question is to clarify what Spinoza means by “reality”. First of

all we can note that RPR clearly echoes148 an important Cartesian causal principle, namely the rule

(manifest to us by “natural light”) that a cause must contain at least as much reality as its effect.149

However, Descartes’s rule of course does not suffice (nor is it intended) to explain why a cause

148 As Carriero also points out (“Spinoza’s views on necessity”, 63). 149 (*) Cf. e.g. Meditation 2, AT VII 40-1.

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would actually bring about any effects, since it merely stipulates what kind of cause would be

required for an effect with a certain degree of reality.

A second important aspect of Spinoza’s notion of “reality” is its intrinsically conceptual sense.

That is, to be “real” in Spinoza’s metaphysics is to be, inter alia, conceived. (We could thus say that

for Spinoza, as later for Hegel, “the real is rational”.)150 This conceptual sense of Spinozistic

“reality” clearly dovetails with, and indeed could be expected from, Spinoza’s commitment either to

the PSR or to the formal-cause model of causation. But this sense of “reality” is also made explicit

in his declaration that “The more reality or being [plus realitatis aut esse] each thing has, the more

attributes belong to it” (1p9).151 Spinoza justifies this proposition simply by citing the definition of

an attribute (1def4), according to which, to recall, substantial “essence” – the essence of what is – is

necessarily apprehended by an “intellect”.152 Hence, for Spinoza, the reality of something is

measured according to the number of ways it is apprehended by an intellect. But the upshot of this

proposition is to confirm not just the intelligible dimension of all “reality”, but also that all

intelligibility in Spinoza’s universe is intelligibility under a given attribute, i.e. in reference to a

primitive and irreducible concept such as Thought or Extension:153 a greater degree of “reality” will

always correspond to a greater number of essentially irreducible ways that any given res can be and

be apprehended.154

150 (*) Cf. e.g. LHP 3.269. 151 (*) Cf. 1p10s, Ep. 9. 152 Note that here a proposition, presumably asserting something true about the nature of things, is

derived from a mere definition. We will return to Spinoza’s definitions in the last part of the Chapter. 153 But note that it seems possible in Spinoza’s framework to conceive of substance without invoking,

or in abstraction from, any particular attribute, as Spinoza does in his definition of substance (1def3). 154 To be clear, 1p9 should not be understood as ruling out that two things manifest under the same

number of attributes (e.g. any two finite modes that at least an infinite intellect will know under absolutely infinite attributes) will not also differ in their degrees of reality. Spinoza makes clear his commitment to the variety of degrees of reality among finite things (cf. e.g. 2p13s; II/97). But a horse that would be a mode of a substance with only 1 attribute, namely extension (per impossibile) would be less real than a horse that is a mode of the only genuinely possible substance, i.e. God.

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It remains of course to be seen how this conception of the nature of “reality” as inherently

conceived – and thus also the following related theses: Spinoza’s notion of “attribute”, his

commitment to the PSR and to a formal-cause notion of causation – are justified in Spinoza's

metaphysics; we will return to this important question in Part III. But the question most pressing

right now is whether this intrinsically conceptual characterization of “reality” helps illuminate in any

way the necessity of substance having “properties”, as 1p16d implies.

It does so only partially. For there is indisputably a link between substantial properties on

the one hand and the intrinsically conceptual nature of “reality” on the other. For, according to

Spinoza, modes themselves could be regarded as ways of conceiving substance, insofar as to

conceive of a proprium is just to conceive of a particular necessary feature of that thing. (Hence

Spinoza’s repeated references in his writings to God “not insofar as he is infinite, but insofar as he

can be explained [explicari potest]” by a mode.155) From this perspective, 1p16d can appear to be

simply tautologous, and as carrying no consequences for the question of modes, if we read it as

stating simply that the more “reality” substance has – i.e., the more there is to substance that can be

conceived, the more properties this substance has – i.e., the more there is to substance that can be

conceived. However, we can avoid this trap of mere tautology if we read 1p16 as stating that the

more “reality” substance has – i.e., the more there is to substance that can be conceived, the more

properties this substance has – i.e., the more particular ways in which it can be conceived.

We should add here that in Spinoza’s substance-monistic metaphysics, it is of course God

who, in the final analysis, will be both the intellect perceiving all such properties and the res that is

perceived as having them. (Accordingly, in the Ethics Spinoza explicitly glosses the nature of God as

an “infinite thinking being” – that is, as infinitely real under the attribute of thought – as conceiving

155 (*) Cf. e.g. 5p36, , 3p1d, 2p9, 2p11c.

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infinita infinitis modis,156 and thus, to put this in terms borrowed from Scholastic and Cartesian

epistemology, as having an object of thought that is “objectively”157 “absolutely infinitely” “real”.)158

Moreover since substance, being unique, has only itself and whatever properties it has to think, and

since all ideas substance has are true (given that there is no possible cause of falsity in relation to a

unique substance) 159 this substance must also produce for itself “formally” whatever object it thinks.

Hence the “absolutely infinite” “reality” of God as an infinite thinking thing will be proportional not

just to the objective “reality” of its ideas but also to the formal “reality” of its properties. Thus we

arrive at the thesis asserted by 1p16: from substance’s “absolutely infinitely” “real” nature, infinitely

many modes must follow – both formally and objectively, i.e. “everything that can fall under

[substance's] infinite intellect”.160

156 Spinoza writes, “[W]e can conceive an infinite thinking being. For the more [things] a thinking

being can think, the more reality, or perfection, we conceive it to contain. Therefore, a being that can think infinitely many [things] in infinitely many ways is necessarily infinite in its power of thinking [quo plura ens cogitans potest cogitare, eo plus realitatis sive perfectionis idem continere concipimus; ergo ens quod infinita infinitis modis cogitare potest, est necessario virtute cogitandi infinitum]” (2p1s; II/86; my ital.).

Cf. also “[God] did not lack material to create all things, from the highest degree of perfection to the lowest;’ or, to speak more properly, ‘…the laws of his nature have been so ample that they sufficed for producing all things which can be conceived by an infinite intellect’ (as I have demonstrated in [1]p16)” (1App; II/83).

Newlands treats this last Appendix passage as testifying to “the internal richness and complexity of God’s nature [which] is such that it can accommodate these infinitely many ways of truly conceiving God”, i.e. modes (“Harmony”, §2.2). Note however, that the passage focuses on what the divine intellect can conceive, rather than on ways of conceiving God, as Newlands’ gloss implies. From the point of view of the Idealist readings (which are to be clear not Newlands’ concern), the task is precisely to flesh out how differentiation into modes could be “internal” to God, as Newlands says.

157 For Spinoza’s use of this terminology cf. e.g. 2p7c. 158 For similar linking of the objective reality of a thing with the number of properties it contains cf.

Leibniz: “The more there is worthy of observation in a thing, the more general properties, the more harmony it contains; therefore, it is the same to look for perfection in an essence and in the properties that flow [fluunt] from the essence” (Letter to Wolff, 18 May 1715; AG 233-4)

159Spinoza repeatedly states that all of the ideas God has are true, and hence will correspond to formally real individuals; cf. e.g. “there is no thing of which there is not an Idea in the thinking thing, and no idea can exist unless the thing also exists” (KV 2.20.[3] c; cf. 1p32, p33).

“Idealism” in the sense that there is nothing but intellect and its ideas is indeed suggested in a few places in Spinoza’s corpus. For example, cf. 1p17s[II] (II/63) and CM 2.7 (I/62).

160 (*) Cf. Spinoza’s insistence that God’s “power to act” matches his “power to think” (2p3s; II/87) cf. Ep. 40.

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However, this account in the end only leads us back to the original problem. For even if we

grant for now Spinoza’s claim that “reality” is inherently conceived, what the above account does

not justify is the non-tautologous reading of 1p16d that successfully links substantial “reality” to

properties by declaring that the more “reality” substance has – the more there is to substance that

can be conceived – the more properties this substance will have – that is, the more particular or partial

ways in which it can be conceived. That is a non sequitur as it stands. For, as already noted, it is

implicit in Spinoza’s definition of substance (1def3) that it is possible to conceive of substance solely

by grasping its essence, without relying on any the idea of any mode (this is because substance is

precisely that thing which is conceived in itself). So it’s not clear why an “absolutely infinitely”

“real” substance would be one that is grasped not just through the infinity of its infinite essences but

also through an “absolute infinity” of partial ways of conceiving, i.e. through modes. Why shouldn’t

the infinitely “real” being be the one that is conceived solely by grasping its “absolutely infinite”

essence (i.e., its essence under all attributes), and not also through its properties (that is through a

multitude of “limited” and partial explanations)?

In short, an appeal to Spinoza’s notion of “reality” that emphasizes its conceptual nature

does not adequately explain the necessity of substance’s production of modes that is asserted in

1p16.161 I believe we must conclude therefore that, contrary to the readings 1p16 typically occasions,

161 Spinoza’s notion of “reality” has still another important aspect, but one that equally fails to justify

Spinoza’s transition in 1p16 from the “absolutely infinite” “reality” of substance to its production of an infinity of modes. Namely, Spinoza correlates a degree of reality with a degree of “activity” or “action”: the greater the degree of “reality” of a thing, the “more” it “acts” (5p40d; cf. 4Pref; II/209), that is, the more effects follow from its essence. As we already saw in §2, the “activity” of substance includes both its production of modes and its own existence. (Even if Spinoza did restrict activity to production of modes alone, then the question becomes, if this is not just a brute assumption, on what grounds is “reality” correlated with production of modes?) We are faced here with the same problem as above: on what grounds is Spinoza entitled to claim that the “actions” or the “activity” of a substance must include the production of modes? In a metaphysics that, as we noted in §2, excludes the possibility of any appeals to the intrinsic “goodness” of an ontological diversity or “order” (cf. 1App; II/78), why cannot the sole effect, and the sole actuality, of an “absolutely infinitely” “real” substance be its own existence? Why must this substance disperse its causal power into a multitude of lesser effects, and not remain merely the “absolutely infinite” causa sui?

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it cannot be regarded as a rebuttal of acosmic interpretations of Spinoza’s metaphysics. The question

that remains to be answered continues to be this: can we find in the nature of the Spinozistic

substance a reason both for this substance’s ontologically ‘horizontal’, so to speak, self-

differentiation into modes and for its self-differentiation into attributes, a reason that would be more

specific than the true but unilluminating assertion that “such is God’s nature”, but would also avoid

the pitfalls of the inadequate responses sketched in the last two sections? In Part III I will outline

what I believe is one such more adequate route to establishing a ‘pluralistic’ reading of Spinoza’s

metaphysics. However, what I want to show first is that we must not only – as we saw in this first

Part of the Chapter – admit the inadequacy of the various explanations of God's production of a

world which have been offered by Spinoza’s commentators, as well as the inapplicability within his

metaphysical framework of explanations endorsed by his philosophical predecessors, but

furthermore also that the Idealists correctly saw that according to Spinoza there is no room in a true

metaphysical account of Nature for finite individuals qua finite. As we shall see in this next Part,

Spinoza consigns finite modes to merely empirically knowable existence in duration.

PART B. SPINOZA’S ANTI-PLURALISM

§4. The varieties of finitist-pluralism, and the nature of finitude

On a finitist-pluralist reading of Spinoza’s metaphysics – that is on, a reading committed to

the metaphysical reality of discernible finite modes sub specie aeternitatis – finite things would have

to be understood as possessing corresponding eternal essences. After all, such modes would be

nothing less than the intrinsic and necessary properties, and effects, of the sole substance. Such

readings may be encouraged by the facts that in his writings Spinoza appears to impute to finite

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modes an “eternal” existence162 and even describes them as “eternal truths” (1p17s[II]; II/63).163 An

advocate of a finitist-pluralist construal could also appeal to the fact that Spinoza repeatedly refers

to finite modes as “things [res]”.164 Spinoza’s use of this all-purpose ontological label for finite

modes may at first blush appear insignificant, but from the point of view of a finitist-pluralist this is

not so. For although “res” never receives an official definition in the Ethics, we can regard Spinoza’s

definition of “essence” (2def2) as playing also the role of his definition of “thinghood”. This is

because the definition of essence establishes a biconditional between the positing of a “thing” and

the positing of an “essence” – that is, the “essence” of any thing represents the necessary and

sufficient condition for the existence and idea of the thing, and vice versa.165 Hence a “thing”, for

Spinoza, is whatever possesses an essence that characterizes it alone; accordingly also finite things

162 For Spinoza’s assertions of the eternity of finite modes cf. e.g. 1p17s[II] (II/63); 5p22,d; 5p23s

(II/95-6); 5p30d, 5p31,d,s (II/300); 5p33s; 5p34s; 5p37d; 5p39d,s, 5p40c,s, 5p41; Ep. 10 (IV/47). One might object here that Spinoza’s definition of “eternity” (1def8) implies that the substance is the

sole eternal thing, since according to it “eternity” is the kind of existence that follows from definition, and of course only the existence of substance follows from its definition. However, I think that what this definition implies is that modes as properties of God (those God actually has) would also be eternal by virtue of being the properties of an eternal substance.

I will later argue that in fact eternity does not pertain to finite modes qua finite. 163 (*) Cf. Ep. 10 (IV/47). But note that in the Ethics passage this claim occurs in the course of a

passage in which Spinoza outlines a view he does not hold. 164 Spinoza refers both to God and to modes as a “thing” (res) or “being” (ens) (that he treats the two

as equivalent is clear e.g. from the interchangeability of “res cogitans” and “ens cogitans” in 2p1 and 2p1s.) One might think, however, that Spinoza’s Cartesian background would count against regarding

modes as genuine “things”: Descartes declares that a “property” cannot be called a “thing” (4th Replies; AT VII 224; cf. his August 1641 letter to Hyperaspistes [AT III 435]). Yet this does not represent the whole story of how Descartes conceives of “res”. Sometimes he uses this term in much looser way than his declaration in the 4th Replies would dictate, applying the label to modes (cf. e.g. Pr. II. 55: “we recognize no other categories of things apart from substances and their modes”). Moreover, we should not forget that when Descartes did exclude “modes” from the title of a ‘thing’, he did so within a framework that equated finite “things” with “substances”, so within a framework that Spinoza of course rejects.

Similarly, Scholastic writers may have thought that modes do not qualify for the label “res” but there was much debate among them whether certain “qualities” of substances – for example, sensible qualities, as well as shapes and forms – could nonetheless be counted as res (cf. e.g. Suárez, MD 7.1.19, 39.1.17.)

The finitist-pluralist could also mention here the fact that following medieval Aristotelians, Descartes regarded parts of substances as particular things that can subsist in their own right, although only whole substances were considered to be complete (cf. 4th Repl [AT VII, 228]; Pr II 55 [AT VIIIA 71]). Cf. Aquinas ST I Q.75 A2 ad I.

165 Indeed, CM suggests that for Spinoza there is merely a distinction of reason between a thing and its essence (1.6; I/248), which is consonant with Spinoza’s view in the Ethics that there is a distinction of reason between attributes and substance.

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will be endowed with essences.166 Such a conclusion will appear to be confirmed by Spinoza’s

references in the Physical Digression to the “natures [naturae]” and “forms [formae]” of finite things

(2ax1”; II/99; 2L4 – L7s; II/100-2); these two terms are, as is well known, synonymous for Spinoza

with “essence”.167 Finally, the finitist-pluralist interpreter would point out the fact that, as we saw in

the preceding Chapter, the conatus doctrine imputes “actual essences” to the entities whose

behavior it describes. And outside of the Idealist fringe, no commentator would venture to propose

that Spinoza’s conatus doctrine fails to apply to finite modes – as we saw in the previous Chapter,

the sole controversy as concerns the scope of this doctrine appears to be the question of whether or

not this doctrine can be applied to infinite things (and even that question, we can recall, is seldom if

ever asked).

In short, in the eyes of the finitist-pluralist, Spinoza’s metaphysics will include a commitment

to the existence of finite things as entities endowed with discernible and unique eternal essences.

The (formal-causal) “following” of such essences from the nature of substance, as described for

example in 1p16, will constitute the existence of such finite things sub specie aeternitatis. On this

reading, to conceive adequately of a finite thing, as this finite thing, would be to grasp its eternal,

individual and discernible essence, distinct from the essences of other finite things and from God’s

own essence, and the causes that determine this essence to be what it is.

The finitist-pluralist interpretation of Spinoza’s metaphysics that I just outlined represent in

my view be the most plausible version of such interpretations. In particular, it is worth noting that

this interpretation does not defend the thesis that Spinoza has room in his metaphysics for finite

things exactly as we are likely to ordinarily experience and understand them – that is, for finite things

constituted in part by their “passions” or “inadequate” ideas (for example, for human minds insofar

166 As is well known, Spinoza sometimes also uses the term “essence” not in this singular sense (especially in political contexts, when describing the way human beings could all “agree” in their natures [cf. e.g. 4p18s]); I will not address this problem here.

167 (*) Cf. e.g. 4pref; II/208.

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as these contain merely imaginary associations, false beliefs, universal ideas, memories).168 For,

according to Spinoza, all such aspects of the existence of finite things, familiar to us from ordinary

experience, are from a rigorous ontological standpoint simply nothing: they are mere “privations” or

lacks that do not exist in relation to God, in relation to whom all ideas are true (2p32).169 (As

Spinoza says, “the true is related to the false as being is to non-being” [2p43s; II/124].)

The question that remains, and that I am interested in answering in this Chapter, is whether

or not finite things understood as complexes of adequate ideas, or of “actions”, can, as this most

plausible of finitist-pluralist interpretations proposes, be truly said to exist, where this existence is

understood as existence sub specie aeternitatis: that is, as an eternally true claim about what

properties necessarily follow – “from eternity and to eternity” as Spinoza puts it – from the essence

of the only possible substance.170 And in what follows I want to demonstrate that the answer to this

question is no, and thus that even the most plausible and rigorous of finitist-pluralist interpretations

of Spinoza’s metaphysics is untenable: as we shall see, a true metaphysical account of the nature of

Spinozistic substance seen sub specie aeternitatis does not have room for any finite effects.

To see why we have to concede this point to Hegel, we first need to understand more

precisely how Spinoza understands the notion of “finitude”. In particular, we need to draw out the

three constitutive and closely intertwined elements of Spinozistic finitude: (a) conception, (b) negation,

and (c) relationality.171 This will be the task of the remainder of the present section. In the two

168 This is something Della Rocca’s version of finitist pluralism rightly recognizes, establishing as I

noted above the existence of finite things only to the “degree” that these finite individuals have adequate ideas (cf. esp. Spinoza, ch. 7 and “Rationalism Run Amok”).

169 We will return to the topics of privation and finite adequate ideas. 170 (*) Cf. “I think I have shown clearly enough (see [1]p16) that from God's supreme power, or

infinite nature, infinitely many things in infinitely many modes, i.e., all things, have necessarily flowed, or always follow, by the same necessity and in the same way as from the nature of a triangle it follows, from eternity and to eternity, that its three angles are equal to two right angles. So God's omnipotence has been actual from eternity and will remain in the same actuality to eternity” (1p17s[1]; II/62).

171 Had Spinoza indeed allowed for the reality of finite things, he would then presumably consider “finitude” a common notion, since all the things we encounter in experience are finite, and we would be able to form an adequate idea of finitude. However, since as we shall see later, Spinoza in fact denies the reality of

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sections that follow (§§5-6), I will consider the degree to which each of these three elements

buttresses the case for a acosmic reading of Spinoza’s metaphysics. For both the relational

constitution of finite things, and the centrality of negation to this constitution, have traditionally

provided grist for the mill of the advocates of the acosmic readings. However, as I will argue in §6,

it is the centrality of negation alone that decisively precludes finite modes from showing up in a true

account of Nature sub specie aeternitatis.

(a) First, then, the conceptual element of finitude. In investigating Spinoza’s notion of

“finitude”, we can count ourselves lucky, as this is one of the rare terms for which Spinoza provides

an official definition in the Ethics. In fact, the definition of a “finite thing” appears already in the

second line of the treatise:

That thing is said to be finite in its own kind that can be limited by another of the same nature. For example, a body is called finite because we always conceive another that is greater [Ea res dicitur in suo genere finita quae alia ejusdem naturae terminari potest. Exempli gratia corpus dicitur finitum quia aliud semper majus concipimus]… (1def2)

The definition, at first blush, may seem utterly run-of-the-mill: to be “finite” is simply to be

“limited”. However, in the background of Spinoza’s emphasis that this limitation can occur only by

virtue of something else of the “same nature” is his anti-Cartesian prohibition on causation and

explanation that would cross attributes (1p10, 2p6). So limitation and finitude are always matters

decided within a single attribute, in reference to a single fundamental concept, such as “thought” or

“extension”: a body is rendered finite by virtue of other bodies; a thought, by virtue of other

thoughts.

The example of a finite “body” Spinoza offers in his definition brings to light other ways in

which this “limitation” reflects Spinoza’s other metaphysical commitments. For one, the example

finite things, he also cannot hold that finitude is a genuine common notion (instead, it must be regarded as a “being of the imagination”).

An aspect of finitude I am not able to address in this Chapter is Spinoza’s mention that God is a “remote cause” of finite modes, and a “proximate cause” of infinite modes in 1p28s (cf. KV I.3; I/36).

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makes clear that a finite thing limits another finite thing within an always larger or more inclusive

totality – ultimately, this totality is the “infinite individual” that constitutes the “face” of the whole

of Nature under a given attribute (Ep. 64; 2L7s (II/102)).172 Secondly, the example underlines once

again that for Spinoza what is, is conceived, such that “limitation” by another finite thing involves

the possibility of “conceiving” something greater or more inclusive – something that includes both

the finite thing in question and other things of the same kind that are not it, hence things that limit

it. (So for instance a particular thought, such as my thought of my heart – will be considered

“finite” insofar it remains possible to conceive of another idea that incorporates this first idea,

together with other ideas, distinct from it – such as the idea representing each and every one of my

bodily organs.) Finite modes are thus for Spinoza, inter alia, more and less inclusive ways of

conceiving things under a particular concept (for instance, as in the case of the above example,

under the concept of Thought).

The picture of finitude that Spinoza paints for us then is one of ever more complex, or

inclusive, finite things ‘nesting’ in one another, and excluding other instances of the same nature. At

the limit of this process of ever more inclusive conceptualizations under a particular attribute, we

can conceive of an entity that would comprehend all finite individuals under that attribute, or an

infinite mediate mode. From Spinoza’s characterization of finitude we can also infer that there

cannot be just one finite thing in Nature (since by definition it has to be limited by another finite

thing, with which it composes something greater), and that, by contrast, an “infinite” thing would be

one that cannot be conceived in relation to something greater of the same nature.173 (Spinoza’s

172 (*) For invocations of this infinite individual cf. also e.g. Ep. 32, CM 2.8 (I/264). 173 Wolfson in contrast alleges that the relevant contrast for Spinoza is between “finite” things as

comparable things and “infinity” as a “sui generis” “uniqueness and incomparability”, “the denial of a thing of any kind of determination and description”, such that “Everything that suffers description may therefore be called finite in its own kind.” (Spinoza, 135-7). But Spinoza’s definition of finitude is clearly more specific than just emphasizing the a given thing has something in common with other things, since both infinite modes and substance itself area ‘comparable’ with finite modes under the same attribute: Spinoza explicitly

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understanding of finitude and infinity can therefore be seen as a reprise of Anselm’s conception of

God as “that than which no greater can be thought”.174)175 From the perspective of acosmic

readings of Spinoza, the conceptual dimension of Spinoza’s notion of finitude suggests that to

explain why something like “finitude” would be necessary in Spinoza’s framework would require us

minimally to explain why thought must be capable of such more and less inclusive

conceptualizations.

Recognizing this intrinsic conceptual aspect of Spinoza’s notion of finitude supplies what I

think is a much needed corrective to the perspective that dominates discussion of Spinozistic finite

modes in secondary literature. For typically commentators broach the subject of finitude from the

perspective of Extension,176 and either pay no attention at all to finite things under the attribute of

Thought, or vaguely gesture at the general principle that conclusions reached by reflecting on the

nature of bodies will somehow transfer by an analogy to the sphere of ideas.177 But as we have seen

repeatedly – both in our discussion of the significance of formal cause in Spinoza’s metaphysics in

denies that finite things and God have “nothing formally in common” (Ep. 4; IV/14). Contrary to Spinoza’s intentions, Wolfson’s interpretation makes of God an ineffable mystery (cf. his conclusion that “the term "infinite" stands in Spinoza for such terms as "unique," "incomparable," "homonymous," "indeterminate," "incomprehensible," "ineffable," "indefinable," "unknowable," and many other similar terms” [ibid, 138]).

174 (*) Cf. Proslogion, ch. 2. 175 Of course, this conceptual aspect of the nature of finitude does not on its own entail that what

constitutes a finite thing is an entirely arbitrary matter. However, I also think that (pace Barbone, “What counts as individual for Spinoza”, 100)

within a finitist-pluralist framework, we cannot rule out a priori that for Spinoza what appears to us to be a mere aggregate, such as a pile of stones, does not have a corresponding essence or conatus. On the contrary, it would seem that a pile of stones would be in fact a good candidate for a being with an essence (assuming for the sake of argument, a finitist pluralist interpretation of Spinoza’s metaphysics): it continues to be what it is, maintaining the same ratio of motion and rest among the component of stones, until some external force disturbs it.

176 (*) Cf. e.g. Garrett, “Spinoza’s metaphysical individuation”; Carriero, “Monism in Spinoza”; Schmaltz, “Spinoza’s infinite mediate mode”; Bennett, Study (cf. esp. §21.4), Barbone, “What counts as individual for Spinoza”; Donagan, Spinoza (cf. esp. 112-113). Della Rocca is a clear exception here.

177 (*) Cf. e.g. Bennett’s decision to analyze Spinoza’s definition of finitude from the point of view of extension, and his admission that he “cannot make analogous sense of the suggestion that a thought which is finite in its own kind must be ‘limited by another thought’, because I cannot find a plausible mental analogue for my geometrical interpretation of ‘limited’ [in the attribute of extension]…. I am inclined to think that this is one of the places where Spinoza says something that he has worked out for extension, then optimistically extrapolates it, hope to cover thought as well, without working out the details.” (Study, §21.4)

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Chapter 2, and in the discussion of the notion of “reality” in the present Chapter – approaching this

metaphysics from the perspective of Thought is at least as important and fruitful for grasping

Spinoza’s metaphysical doctrines, and arguably more so. This will be made particularly salient by the

consequences of the constitutive role that negation plays in rendering a thing “finite. Let’s turn now

to this second constituent of “finitude”; as noted earlier, we will return to the question of what

grounds Spinoza’s conceptual construal of the nature of what is in Part III.

(b) The centrality of negation has implicitly already emerged in the course of foregoing

discussion. For, as we have seen, according to Spinoza in conceiving of something as “finite” we

affirm or predicate of a given thing (for example, of a particular idea) certain instances of its

particular kind of being (in our current example, instances of Thought), but we also deny that other

instances of that kind of being – those that conceivably can compose with it a greater totality – are

true of it.178 That is, to conceive of any thing as finite, one must be able to conceive of things which

it is not, or of things that limit it, and so say of it that these other things are not it. Indeed, Spinoza

explicitly states that the “determination” of something as finite “is negation” (Ep. 50),179 where

“negation”, as he explains elsewhere, means “denying something of a thing because it does not

pertain to its nature” (Ep. 21; I/128). As Hegel remarks, “Spinoza has set up the great proposition,

178 For Spinoza’s use of this kind of language of “affirming” or “denying” that something pertains to

a given nature cf. e.g. 2p48s (II/130), 2p49, d; Ep. 21. Arguably, one might think that implicitly this also involves negating all instances of all the other

attributes as well, for Spinoza describes the relations among attributes in terms of “negation”; we shall return to this question later, when I shall argue that it is more appropriate to conceive of this inter-attribute negation as a relation of bare difference.

179 (*) Cf. also Ep. 36 (“‘determinate’ denotes nothing positive, but only the privation of existence of that same nature which is conceived as determinate”); 4p32s (“if someone says that a stone and a man agree only in this, that each is finite, lacks power, does not exist from the necessity of its nature, or, finally, is indefinitely surpassed by the power of external causes, he affirms completely that a stone and a man do not agree in anything. For things that agree only in a negation, or in what they do not have, really agree in nothing” [II/230]); and KV 1.2 note b.2 (there cannot be a “limited substance” because “such a substance would necessarily have to have something which it had from Nothing. But this is impossible.” [I/20]). For further evidence that Spinoza treats “determination” as applicable to “finite” things alone cf. e.g. Ep. 35 where Spinoza juxtaposes “infinity” and “determination”.

Hegel briefly invokes Ep. 50 at LHP 3. 267.

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determination implies negation…[O]f everything…determined and finite, what is essential in it rests

upon negation” (LHP 3.285). (More precisely still, Spinoza specifies that finite things involve the

negation of the “existence” of a particular kind of being [1p8s1; II/49].) As was the case for

Descartes180 and Newton,181 for Spinoza “infinity” is thus conceptually prior to finitude: a finite thing

is constituted by denying that some of the infinite instances of existing as Extended or as Thinking

can be affirmed or predicated of it.

Spinoza’s linking of finitude and negation makes thus even more clear what would be

required for finite things not to prove indistinct or illusory from the point of view of a true account

of Nature sub specie aeternitatis: what is would have to be not just conceivable, but more precisely

capable of being conceived by means of relations of negation.

The third and final element of Spinoza’s conception of finitude to which I want to attend

here is the relational constitution of finite things, a feature of finitude closely intertwined with the other

two:

(c) According to Spinoza, although a particular “finite” thing, as we just saw in (b),

constitutively excludes other instances of the attribute in question, at the same time it remains

conceptually and causally dependent on what it negates. (Thus Spinoza remarks that a finite thing is “a

part of nature which cannot be perceived clearly and distinctly through itself, without the others”

and in this sense it “involves a negation [negationem involvit]” [3p3s; II/145]182.) The finite modes

excluded by the finite thing in question constitute the causal conditions of this thing’s existence, and

the proximate conceptual conditions of its explicability. And, contrary to what has been alleged by

interpreters like Curley and Schmaltz,183 Spinozistic finite things will have to be regarded as

180 (*) Cf. e.g. 5th Repl (AT VII 364). 181 (*) Cf. e.g. “De gravitatione”, 24.

182 (*) Cf. 1p28. 183 See Schmaltz, “Spinoza’s mediate infinite mode”, 217, 217n89; Curley, SM, 23. Spinoza says as much in 5p40s: “our Mind, insofar as it understands, is an eternal mode of

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relationally constituted not just in their durational existence but also in any existence they would

partake in sub specie aeternitatis.184 For such a relational limitation is precisely what constitutes a

finite thing the finite thing that it is: without it, we have only an indeterminate infinite mode left.

This concludes my analysis of the Spinozistic interpretation of the nature of finitude.185 In

the ensuing two sections, I will consider the degree to which the three elements of finitude that we

have foregrounded affect finite things’ claim to metaphysical reality. As noted earlier, the Idealists

have seized upon the last two aspects of finitude – the relational constitution of finite things, and

the centrality of negation to this constitution – with particular eagerness, claiming that these two

elements of finitude consign finite things to irreality. As we shall see, the centrality of negation

indeed definitively precludes them from showing up in a true account of Nature sub specie

aeternitatis.

§5. Relational constitution and other failed acosmic arguments

The relational constitution of finite things is unquestionably the most notorious aspect of

thinking, which is determined by another eternal mode of thinking, and this again by another, and so on, to infinity…” (II/306). The finitist pluralist will understand this relationality at the level of eternal natures of things as the dependence of the individual essences of finite things on one another, but as we shall see, we cannot in fact distinguish in Spinoza’s view such individual finite essences.

In the TdIE, Spinoza distinguishes the “essences” of things from merely “extrinsic denominations” and “relations” “drawn from [the] series or order of existence” of “singular things”; such extrinsic relations and denominations, he writes, “are far from the inmost essence of things”, which “is really only to be sought solely from fixed and eternal things” (TdIE 101; II/36-37). Curley claims that this passage shows that Spinoza “denies explicitly that their [bodies’] essential nature is constituted by their relations” (SM 23), but the passage shows only that the essences of modes are not constituted by external relations (as opposed to constitutive relations).

184 We can flesh out the relational constitution of finite natures at the level of durational existence as follows: a particular body for instance – let’s call it Bf – will be relationally constituted insofar as it will depend, within a larger deterministic causal whole, for its coming into this existence on the actions of other durationally existing finite bodies. These bodies will cause the future constituents of Bf to assume, however briefly, that particular ratio of motion and rest that is Bf’s essential nature. In the course of Bf’s durational existence, other finite bodies will determine Bf to produce certain effects of which it is capable as a consequence of its nature; finally, yet other bodies will eventually necessitate its decomposition and demise.

185 Little additional light is shed on the problem of acosmism by Spinoza’s notions of “singular things” (finite things) and “individuals” (modes), hence I will not address these concepts here.

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finitude as the latter has been understood by British Idealist metaphysics generally,186 and by British

Idealist accounts of Spinoza’s metaphysics in particular. In this section I want to show, first (in (a)),

that even if, as I believe, in the end we have to grant the Idealist conclusion that Spinoza does not

regard finite things as metaphysically real entities sub specie aeternitatis, this conclusion cannot be

established, as some of the Idealists hold, solely on the grounds of their much-publicized relational

constitution. Secondly, I will show that such a conclusion also cannot be established on the basis of

two other, equally superficially plausible arguments: on the one hand – this will be the topic of (b) –

the argument from the restrictions that Spinoza places on causal interactions between finite and

infinite things, and on the other hand (c), the argument from the indivisibility of substance.

(a) The basic intuition behind the acosmic readings that focus on the relational constitution

of finite things is that it’s unclear that something that is constituted by means of relations is entitled

to be treated as a genuine “thing” (even if, as we have seen, Spinoza chooses to refer to finite modes

as “res” in his writings). For if a “thing” is nothing in itself, but is instead constituted by relations,

such that in apprehending it we are apprehending only relational properties, and no properties this

thing has independently of anything else, are we truly apprehending a “thing”?187 (Recall Kant’s

remark that “through mere relations no thing in itself is cognized” [KrV B67].) On Spinoza’s

picture, finite modes are at a disadvantage even in comparison to infinite modes, for they seem to be

at a double distance from any absolute ground: they are conceived not just through substance, but

also through other finite things, and ultimately are made possible only through the infinite totality of

finite things.

186 (*) Cf. e.g. G. E. Moore, “External, internal relations”.

187 A proponent of a finitist-pluralist reading might wish to turn this distinction between relational and intrinsic properties against the monist, by saying that finite things are these intrinsic properties of substance. However, this assumes what is in question, for it is only if there indeed are finite things that they can count as the intrinsic properties of a substance.

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In this spirit, Joachim, Caird188 and Jacobi189 all have deemed that, on account of their

relational constitution, Spinozistic finite modes must be judged illusory, and Spinozistic causa sui

accordingly cannot be regarded as a cause of any finite effects. To quote Joachim

Any attempt to explain [a finite thing] – to understand its essential nature – would carry you outside ‘it,’ or would force you to regard ‘it’ as having no essential nature or individuality; for ‘it’ is through and through constituted by its relations, and if you include them in ‘its’ nature, ‘it’ will have become merged in the whole attribute (Study, 23) 190

Joachim’s verdict is that if a thing cannot be explained by appealing to what it is intrinsically, then it

is impossible to genuinely conceive of it at all: because a true grasp of a finite thing would require us

to invoke an infinity of other things, this finite thing becomes unthinkable as an individual

discernible from other individuals. It becomes indiscernibly merged with other finite modes within

the infinite causal and conceptual whole that contains and conditions them all. Joachim’s conclusion

in fact rules out the existence not just of finite modes but also of infinite ones, since the fact that we

have to go ‘outside’ a thing, as Joachim puts it, in order to explain it (or more precisely find its

cause), is for Spinoza true of all things but substance itself, which is essentially “conceived in itself.

If the modes’ right to metaphysical reality of finite things truly hinges merely on whether

such modes are conceivable in themselves, without reference to other things, then the issue is a

foregone conclusion in the favor of an acosmic reading: for, of course, according to Spinoza there is

only one such causally and conceptually self-sufficient being, namely the substantial causa sui. As

already noted I am inclined to agree with the overall Idealist conclusion as to the metaphysical

188 (*) Caird writes, e.g.: “Each object is what it is only in virtue of its relations to other objects, and ultimately to the whole system of being…[They] are successive existences which have only a semblance of individuality. …Rightly viewed, each so-called individual is only a transition-point in a movement of thought that stretches back through the interminable past and onwards through the interminable future” (Spinoza, 135-6; my ital.)

189 (*) Cf. e.g. this summary of Jacobi’s views by Franks: “Consistent rationalism is also nihilistic in the further sense that it denies the existence of entities altogether. To be an entity is to be the individual locus of organic activity, determined both in contrast with other entities and in terms of some positive internal nature. ….[F]inite modifications of substance…fail to be entities, because they are determined only through contrast.” (Franks, “All or Nothing: Systematicity and Nihilism in Jacobi, Reinhold, and Maimon” [hereafter “Systematicity and Nihilism”], 98).

190 (*) Cf. Russell, note 11.

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irreality of finite individuals in Spinoza’s philosophy. However, contrary to the line of thought

represented by Joachim, and based on the constitutive relationality of finite modes, I would contend

that this relationality – understood as the constitutive conceptual and causal dependence of finite

modes on what they are not – does not suffice to establish the metaphysical indiscernibility of such

modes. For it seems to me that just because in conceiving of something we must refer to other

things, this does not on its own entail that we have no way of distinguishing the thing in question

from its causes or conditions. Indeed, this controversy over the significance of the relational

constitution of finite things for their metaphysical status places us squarely back at the problem,

raised earlier, of the need to differentiate between substance monism and acosmism. As I urged earlier,

we cannot conflate these two positions. For it is simply not self-evident that to deny conceptual and

ontological self-sufficiency to a thing is necessarily equivalent to denying that it truly exists as an

identifiable thing with a discernible nature. (We can, to recall, formulate this problem also as a

problem of what distinctions we take Spinoza to admit in his metaphysics: are we entitled to assume

that Spinoza indeed reduces all distinctions to “real” distinctions, as Joachim’s conclusion implies, or

does Spinoza’s ontology also have room for modal distinctions?) The assumption that the alternative

of “either substance or illusion” exhausts the ontological possibilities available to Spinoza, is, it

seems to me, simply false. The presumption of an ontology that does not see alternatives to the

above disjunction may have been a more plausible or natural presumption within metaphysical

frameworks that preserve a multiplicity of substances, as did, in their different ways, those of

Aristotle, Descartes, Leibniz. (But of course even those ontologies have room for genuine

properties.) So we must at least pause and ask whether we have any grounds to assume that the

ontological alternative of “substance or illusion” is applicable to a metaphysical framework like

Spinoza’s, one that as one of its fundamental premises rejects the very coherence of a plurality of

independent beings. Even if Kant believed that being a “thing” requires intrinsic properties, to take

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the lack of a substantial status for a sign that something is a mere illusion is surely a step that he –

given his reliance on the idea of “appearance [Erscheinung]”, and his insistence on distinguishing it

from mere “illusion [Schein]” – would resist. So would, closer to Spinoza’s own time, Leibniz, who

famously of course embraces the idea of “well-founded phenomena”.191

Indeed, arguably such Idealist interpretations as Joachim’s rest on yet a further assumption

of dubious validity. I have in mind the assumption that for Spinoza finite things are exclusively

relationally constituted. For in fact a good case can be made that Spinozistic finite modes also have

intrinsic properties. The text of the Ethics makes it clear that even a finite mode can be the

“adequate” – that is (3def1), the complete or total – cause of at least some of its effects,192 and, in

particular, that the human mind will conceive adequately of “common notions”.193 (For example,

any finite mind in reflecting on itself alone will be capable in principle of self-sufficiently generating

an adequate idea of the essence of Thought.) And this is enough to show that each finite thing will

be self-caused to some extent (it will be an imperfect imitation of the divine substance, we can say),

and thus will have intrinsic properties, or properties that do not depend on its relations with external

causes.194

191 (*) Franks also makes this point, All or Nothing. 192 Cf. e.g. 4p36s (II/235); 3p1; 2p38c (II/119); 2p40s2 (II/122); 2p43d; 2p47; 3p3; 3p9d; 3p27d;

3p43d Note that this conclusion is not accepted by all scholars. I return to this problem later. 193 Cf. esp. 2p28,c. I will not be able to address here the topic of common notions adequately,

however, Spinoza’s basic thought is that common notions are necessarily adequate because there is no possible source of privation – and thus no possible reason for falsehood – when thinking of what is common to every thing. Thus even in thinking of a single finite body, for example, the finite mind will necessarily grasp adequately the nature of motion and rest and their entire, extremely short, causal chain: namely the essence of an infinite self-causing extended nature.

194 Joachim et al could object to this picture by noting that it does not, after all, succeed in salvaging discernible finite individuals because any such adequate idea (for example, the idea of the essential nature of Thought) will be identical for every mind that has this idea as a “part”; thus all finite minds, to the extent that they are composed of the same collections of such adequate ideas, will become indistinct from one another. (They will indeed, as Joachim originally claimed, “merge” into one another.) However, in response to this objection, we could grant that the number of finite individuals who would remain discernible would indeed perhaps be very small, and in no way would correspond to the finite individuals we ordinarily encounter in the course of durational experience. Nonetheless, to grant this is not to grant that on Spinoza’s account there

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There are then at least two reasons why the Idealist charge that the relational constitution of

finite things prevents them from showing up in Spinoza’s metaphysics does not ultimately succeed:

first of all, we can plausibly deny that the relational constitution of finite modes straightforwardly

carries with it the kind of unsalvageable indiscernibility as the Idealists envisage; secondly, we can

equally plausibly deny that for Spinoza finite things are solely relationally constituted.

In fact, as we shall see later, there is still a third reason to doubt the plausibility of Joachim’s

interpretation – and of likeminded interpretations – of the repercussions of the relational

constitution of finite modes. For if, as the Idealist position represented by Joachim implies, there

also cannot be any infinite modes in Spinoza’s metaphysics – since such modes also fail to be

conceptually and causally self-sufficient – then Spinoza will not be entitled even to his conception of

substance, and so not even substance will remain in the picture. In other words, construing the

relational constitution of finite things in the way that Joachim does leads to an undermining of

Spinoza’s entire metaphysics, and not just to, as Joachim and likeminded readers intended – with the

exception of Jacobi perhaps195 – to establishing that this metaphysics has room solely for an

undifferentiated and infinite substance.

In any case, as I said earlier, it is constitutive element of negation, and not the constitutive

relationality, of finite things that holds the secret to their metaphysical insignificance. But as noted

earlier, before I turn to this argument, to clear the decks, I first want to show that two other

plausible arguments for this acosmic conclusion will also be insufficient for the job, just as the

argument from relational constitution is.

can be no discernible finite thing whatsoever.

195 (*) Cf. Franks: according to Jacobi, “Consistent rationalism is also nihilistic in the further sense that it denies the existence of entities altogether. To be an entity is to be the individual locus of organic activity, determined both in contrast with other entities and in terms of some positive internal nature. Rationalism’s infinite substance is not an entity, for it has no contrast, and the finite modifications of substance also fail to be entities, because they are determined only through contrast.” (“Systematicity and Nihilism”, 98; my ital.).

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(b) I referred to the first of these two insufficient arguments briefly in §1: the argument in

question draws on the interdictions Spinoza places on causal interactions between finite and infinite

things in 1p21-22 and 1p28. These propositions are often interpreted as stating that no finite thing

can ever follow from an infinite thing; that infinite things can cause only other infinite things, and

that finite things can be caused only by other finite things.196 (Thus Beiser, for example, speaking

about 1p21 on behalf of the Hegelian Idealist, asks this hypothetical and condemnatory question:

“If everything exists in God, and if God is infinite and eternal, then everything should be infinite

and eternal. But then why does the finite world exist?”).197

Now if these indeed were the correct conclusions to draw from the propositions at stake,

this would represent a straightforward, and incontestable, coup for the proponents of acosmism.

For, on this account, the infinite substance simply could not bring about anything finite. However,

this construal of the significance of these propositions can be – and has been, with varying degrees

of success198 – contested. For a careful reading of the passages at issue shows that these do not in

fact prohibit all causal transactions between the infinite and the finite. More precisely, they leave

open the possibility that finite things follow from the infinite substance as a totality – that is, precisely

196 Cf. e.g. Schmaltz, who claims that 1p21 creates a “tension” in Spinoza’s system (“Spinoza’s

mediate infinite mode”, 214-6); Friedman, who implausibly (because contravening Spinoza’s commitment to the PSR and insisting on ad hoc exceptions) argues that to evade this tension we must 1) interpret the “following” relation in the case of finite modes, in contrast to infinite modes, as not a “formal” relation of “logico-metaphysical” deducibility, but as a “merely causal” relation; and 2) exclude finite essences from the scope of 1p21-22 (“How the finite follows”, 371-9); and Mignini, “Intuitive science” (145-6).

Hegel does not consider this particular cluster of propositions to create a particular problem for Spinoza; instead, he cites (presumably approvingly) Buhle’s explanation of Spinoza’s views on this point: “Individual things are derived from God in an eternal and infinite manner [i.e. once and for all] and not in a transitory, finite and evanescent manner; they are derived from one another merely inasmuch as they mutually produce and destroy each other, but in their eternal existence they endure unchangeable.” (LHP 3.275; parenthetical gloss is Hegel’s own).

197 (*) Hegel, 92-3. 198 (*) Cf. Della Rocca, Spinoza, 70ff; Garrett, “Spinoza’s necessitarianism”, 193ff; Schmaltz,

“Spinoza’s mediate infinite mode”, 217-8. To be clear, the stakes of articulating the right interpretation of these propositions have been usually represented as those of resolving an apparent internal tension within Spinoza’s text, rather than as those of proving whether or not he ought to be considered an advocate of acosmism.

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as what has come to be known as an “infinite mediate mode”, or the totality of finite things under a

particular attribute that these finite things together (relationally) constitute but within which only

finite things determine other finite things, as 1p28 requires. In other words, the point of Spinoza’s

stipulations in 1p21-22 and 1p28 is that nothing finite can follow from anything infinite without other

finite things also following at the same time: a finite thing cannot be caused immediately or directly

by an infinite thing (substance or mode), but only by an infinite thing together with finite ones. (As

we observed earlier, this is implicit already in the definition of finitude: there cannot be just one finite

thing.) Spinoza certainly did not present himself as having demonstrated in these propositions the

impossibility of finite things, only as having shown that the production of a finite thing by an infinite

thing has to be mediated by other finite things: as he writes in 1p28s, the finite thing has to “follow

from…an attribute of God insofar as it is modified by a modification which is finite” (1p28d; II/69).

However, an advocate of acosmism will rightly object here that this is only a partial answer,

since the crux of the matter remains as mysterious as before. This is the problem of how any

infinite thing (here, the infinite mediate mode that is the totality of all finite things under a given

attribute) would become differentiated into finite entities. A proponent of finitist-pluralism could

perhaps argue that if the infinite immediate mode under the attribute of Extension is just “motion

and rest” as Spinoza says (Ep. 64), then this is all that is needed to establish the existence of finite

bodies: for the “simplest” of these, according to Spinoza, are distinguished solely by motion and rest

(2L1).199 However, such a suggestion again only begs the question. For the proponent of a acosmic

reading can object that the motion and rest that constitutes the infinite mode, whatever else they are,

199 (*) Cf. Spinoza’s comment that “from Extension as conceived by Descartes, to wit, an inert mass

[molem quiescentem], it is not only difficult, as you say , but quite impossible to demonstrate the existence of bodies” (Ep. 83, to Tschirnhaus, May 5th, 1676)

For a proposal broadly along these lines cf. Schmaltz: “[the] infinite [extended] individual could be said to comprehend in its form the infinite number of forms of finite individuals that derive from the infinite distributions of the quantities of motion and rest among the parts of the universe. …[S]uch essences do not derive from the attribute one by one, but rather all together, as comprehended in the infinite corporeal individual.” (“Spinoza’s mediate infinite mode”, 218, 221; my ital). Cf. also Harris, Salvation from Despair, 65.

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will be infinite motion and rest. But the question is precisely how would infinite motion and rest

become finite quantities or distributions of motion and rest?

As I’ve repeatedly signaled, I will later argue that in fact such differentiation into finite things

is in metaphysical rigor impossible for Spinoza. But my point now is simply the much weaker one,

that propositions like 1p21 do not on their own unambiguously establish that acosmic interpretations of

Spinoza’s metaphysics are correct.

(c) The final, equally insufficient argument for the unreality of finite things that I want to

briefly mention here would appeal to Spinoza’s doctrine of the indivisibility of substance. This

doctrine too may superficially encourage the conclusion that sub specie aeternitatis finite things

cannot be genuine res. It gives this impression because of Spinoza’s repeated remarks that we

conceive of Extended substance as having “finite parts [partis]” only when we perceive it with the aid

of the imagination, rather than when we regard it by means of the intellect (1p15s[IV]; Ep. 12

[IV/56]). (Thus Caird, for example, construes such remarks as implying that all perception of

anything like a mode is merely a product of the imagination, and that from the perspective of the

intellect there is only the one infinite substance.200)

Once again, however, this seems to be the wrong conclusion to draw from the texts in

question. For in fact in the passages at issue Spinoza is concerned primarily with how we perceive

substance as substance: it is the divisibility of substance, and not of what (purportedly) follows from it,

that is at stake.201 Furthermore, the kind of “division” of substance Spinoza is contemplating in

these texts is a division into “really distinct” “parts” (1p15s[IV]; II/59). Modes, however, would not

be “really distinct” entities on either the finitist-pluralist nor acosmic interpretation (or indeed on any

interpretation that recognizes that for Spinoza only the essences of substance under the various

200 (*) Spinoza, 163f. 201 (*) Melamed, who also discounts the acosmic reading of Ep. 12, argues for this discounting

differently, saying that for Spinoza in Ep. 12 “the intellect’s conception of quantity as substance…includes the modes of the substance” (“Acosmism”, MS 4n16; ital. in the orig.).

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attributes can be “really distinct” [1p10s]). Indeed, when Ep. 12 turns to the topic of “modes”, it is

in order to underline that the apprehension of modes is subject to an analogous distinction between

adequate or intellectual apprehension and a merely imaginative one.202 It is one way of grasping

modes that can be merely imaginative (when we abstract them from substance, or their cause [Ep.

12; IV/57]), not, however, modes themselves. This leaves open the possibility that modes can also

be grasped adequately, that is through the second or third kinds of knowledge.

We should note here that this admission in Ep. 12 that modes themselves can be grasped

adequately by the intellect does not vindicate the finitist-pluralist construal of Spinoza’s metaphysics.

For at this point in the letter Spinoza is talking only about “modes” in general, and no longer

referring specifically to “finite” things (Ep. 12; IV/57/15-58/5). But of course finite modes are not

the only kind of modes Spinoza admits into his metaphysical picture. Thus the lesson of Ep. 12

accords with the infinitist-pluralist conclusion that, I will later urge, we must draw about Spinoza’s

metaphysics: there is no adequate conception of something finite as finite possible in this

metaphysics, only of infinite things.

So much then for three plausible arguments for the unreality of finite things that, in final

analysis, do not manage to establish conclusively the metaphysical insignificance of Spinozistic finite

modes. In the next section I want to turn, finally, to the argument that in my view does succeed in

demonstrating that the Idealists were right to think that Spinoza denies the metaphysical existence

of finite modes sub specie aeternitatis. This argument, as already noted, hinges on finite things’

constitutive reference to negation.

202 (*) This is also pointed out by Melamed (“Acosmism”, MS 4n16). Cf. also Spinoza’s contrasting of such “mental constructs” with “real beings” a few lines later in

Ep.12 (IV/58/10-15). .

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§6. Finite things, negation and the thinking God

Is Spinoza's God so lacking in ideas that He cannot have an idea of any finite mutable thing, such as a flower? I think not!

– Friedman, “How the finite follows from the infinite in Spinoza’s metaphysical system”, 375

[Spinoza] was not enough of a madman to believe there was no difference between himself and the Jew who struck him with a knife, or to dare to say that in all respects his bed and his room were the same being as the emperor of China. – Bayle, Historical and Critical Dictionary, 306

Spinoza’s linking of finitude with negation figures prominently in Idealist arguments for an

ontological-monistic, or entity-monistic, construal of his metaphysics. On the picture painted by the

Idealists, finite things simply disappear in a true apprehension of what is, because ‘what is’ is a

perfectly positive infinity, untainted by negative relation.203 Thus, for example, Joachim writes that

for a true understanding, there exists only an “absolutely positive” God “excluding all negation from

his being”, an “all-complete Reality” in which all negations and limitations “are overcome”.204

203 (*) Cf. also Franks: “Kant and Spinoza agree that negation – that is, the delimitation of a prior

whole – plays an indispensable role in the individuation of empirical objects, which are therefore not transcendentally real” (All or Nothing, 93).

204 (*) Joachim writes, e.g. “God is conceived by [Spinoza] as absolutely positive because absolutely real: as excluding all negation from his being…[It is an] exclusion of negation or determination… [I]n God there can be no defect, no limitation, no imperfection. Somehow in him all negation is absorbed and overcome. But so far as this is our conception of God, all forms of being – all distinct and therefore limited characters – must be, as such and in themselves, only partly real. They cannot retain their character as features of God; and in their distinctness they are partly unreal.” (Joachim, Study, 104-6; I take these references to partial unreality to be intended in the same way as Spinoza’s description of finite things as being negation “in part” [1p8s1]: finite things are unreal qua negations of an infinite positive reality; but what is real is this infinite positive reality they negate); “the negation does not attach to the Reality, for not it has anything negated of it: to its nature belongs everything, and nothing therefore can be negated of it. …‘[N]egation’ (or degrees of reality) in things is true for the modal apprehension, though not the ultimate truth; for to the ultimate apprehension, there are no things, but one all-complete Reality… [T]the principle of the union of oneness and variety is that the 'limitations' and distinctions are' defects' and unresolved 'differences' only for an imperfect apprehension; that 'in God,' of whom the modes are states or degrees, all such limitations are overcome, since for a true apprehension they are bare negations which are not negations of God.” (ibid, 110-1); “The limits, which constitute the particularity of the different elements of experience, will – if properly understood – carry the Spinozist over the differences of things” (ibid, 101-2).

Cf. McTaggart: “Can we say that Spinoza ever had this conception of the negation of determination being, in some sort, positive? I cannot see that he ever takes it as anything but a mere negation, so that all the characteristics which make such a mode what it is, and separate it from the others are simply unreal and have no part, even as transcended, in God's nature” (Review, 517).

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Similarly, Hegel insists that for Spinoza “negation” in no way contributes to the articulation of what

is as it is in itself, and remains “distinct [verschieden] from substance”, precisely because the element of

negation, and thus finite things, are not “deduce[d]…from substance” by Spinoza:

Spinoza has set up the great proposition, determination implies negation…, and as of everything…determined and finite, what is essential in it rests upon negation. Therefore God alone is the positive, the affirmative, and consequently the one substance; all other things…are nothing in and for themselves…. [N]egation is present only as Nothing, for in the absolute there is no mode; the negative is not there, but only its dissolution... The negative is conceived altogether as a vanishing moment, not in itself… [das Negative [ist] nur als Nichts vorhanden, denn im Absoluten ist kein 'Modus'; es ist gar nicht, nur sein Auflösen… Das Negative ist eben als verschwindendes Moment, nicht an sich…aufgefasst] (LHP 3.285, 289)205

What I want to show in this section is precisely why Hegel’s and Joachim’s verdicts that

negation condemns finite things to metaphysical oblivion are correct. But I will approach this task

in a slightly roundabout fashion, namely through a failed argument for the opposite conclusion. For

although Spinoza’s Idealist readers interpret the centrality of negation to the constitution of finite

things as a conclusive sign of their unreality, to the finitist-pluralist this reference to negation may on

the contrary seem to offer a promising way of arguing for the necessity of finite modes in Spinoza’s

metaphysics. I want to look at such a potential argument here, because the nature of its failure will

usefully expose for us the central reason why finite things cannot, in metaphysical rigor, be for

Spinoza truly existent things sub specie aeternitatis, contrary to the virtually unanimous consensus

among Spinoza scholars today.

Cf. Caird: “The positive existence we ascribe to [“finite existences”] is, when closely viewed,

only negation or non-existence. To get to real or affirmative being we must negate the negation, withdraw the fictitious limit, and what we get as the real is simply the absolutely indeterminate, the logical abstraction of Being” (Spinoza, 143).

Cf. Maimon “substance is…the sole self-subsistent being, all so-called beings besides it being merely its modes, that is, particular limitations of its attributes” (An Autobiography, 113).

205 (*) Hegel also writes, e.g. “the soul, the Spirit, insofar as it is an individual Being, is for Spinoza a mere negation, like everything in general that is determined” (LHP, 287-8); “the moment of negativity is what is lacking to this rigid motionlessness [of Spinoza’s substance]… This is what we find philosophically inadequate with Spinoza; distinctions are externally present, it is true, but they remain external, since even the negative is not known in itself” (ibid, 288).

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This hypothetical finitist-pluralist argument in question would appeal back to 1p16, the

proposition which, we saw in §3, appears to have been intended to demonstrate the necessity of

substance’s production of modes. To recall, the demonstration of this proposition pivoted on the

Reality-to-Properties Rule (RPR), i.e. the principle that “the more reality the essence of [something]

involves”, the “more properties” can be inferred from it. In §3, we ended our analysis of 1p16 on a

note of disappointment, for the proposition did not seem capable of living up to its promise of

justifying the necessity of substance’s causation of any kind of modes by linking, in a non-question-

begging manner, the infinite “reality” of substance to its production of modes. However, now that

we have brought to light the constitutive role that negation plays in rendering something finite, to

the finitist-pluralist this can look like the discovery of the link that has been missing thus far from

our glosses of 1p16d, and one that will enable us to demonstrate that the infinite “reality” of

substance demands expression in an infinity of finite properties specifically.

However, reading back over 1p16 one may skeptical that this proposition can help the

finitist-pluralist’s case, for neither the proposition itself nor its demonstration mention “finite”

things. But the finitist-pluralist can perhaps undermine such initial skepticism by pointing out that

later in the Ethics Spinoza links 1p16 with finite modes in four different passages206 (even if these

passages are undeniably equivocal,207 and in fact the great majority of references to 1p16 occurs in

the context of a discussion of “things” and “modes” in general). But one may well be skeptical

about the relevance of 1p16 to finite things for still another reason. For in order for the RPR to

bear on the status of finite modes, Spinoza would have to hold what, prima facie at least, may appear

206 (*) Cf. 2p45s (II/127); 5p22; 4p4d[ii] (II/213); 1p25c. 207 One could object that it’s not clear if 2p45s (II/127) asserts that singular things exist qua singular or

merely qua the infinite mediate mode. Of the three other passages linking 1p16 and “finite” or “singular” things explicitly, in it is not clear if what is meant is singular things qua singular things or singular things insofar as they are rationally indistinct within an infinite mode. It also perhaps could be argued that 5p22 appeals to 1p16 only insofar as the latter establishes the necessity of divine effects. 4p4d[ii] (II/213) appeals to 1p16 in the course of a counterfactual claim. 1p25c can arguably be read reductively: particular things are nothing but infinite affections.

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to be a somewhat implausible thesis, namely that having more finite properties would indicate a greater

“reality” on the part of God. The reason such a thesis may appear implausible is precisely that as we

have seen for Spinoza “finitude” is essentially the negation of a certain kind of existence. Thus for

1p16 and RPR to be relevant to finite things would require Spinoza to hold that having a greater

number of ways in which the existence of a particular sort is negated indicates a greater “reality” on the

part of the being with that nature.

Despite the perhaps counterintuitive initial appearance of such a claim, a proponent of a

finitist-pluralist reading could make for it quite a plausible argument by approaching God's infinite

reality from the perspective of the attribute of Thought, as follows:

God’s thought, in Spinoza’s view, essentially has the capacity for negation. This is because for

Spinoza ideas as such are not “something mute, like a picture on a tablet” (2p43s; II/124)

but essentially – in Spinoza’s technical sense of essence (2def2) – “acts” of “affirmation” and

“negation”. This is made clear by Spinoza’s remark that “[i]n the Mind there is no volition,

or affirmation and negation [affirmatio et negatio], except that which the idea involves insofar as

it is an idea [quatenus idea est]” (2p49; II/130; my ital.); the idea cannot be conceived without

the corresponding volition, nor the volition without the idea (ibid). “Will” and “intellect”

are, in short, one and the same. For there to be “thought” is for there to be acts of

affirmation or negation; to “think” is, minimally, to put into play these two basic conceptual

operations, of “positing” something [ponere], and of “taking it away” [tollere].208

It is this intrinsic negating power of thought that makes finite things possible in the

first place in Spinoza’s metaphysics. For God qua “absolute infinite” substance (1def6) is

essentially also a thinking thing. And the divine “power” of Thought, the capacity to cause

ideas, or the capacity for inference, which constitutes God's essence under the attribute of

208 (*) For this language cf. 3p4d.

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Thought will in Spinoza’s substance-monistic framework necessarily manifest itself as

unlimited, or infinite, acts of negation and affirmation of God's own attributes, and hence as

an infinity of ideas of finite things, since finite things, as we have seen, are nothing but more

and less inclusive ways of conceiving of the divine nature under a common ‘primitive’

concept, by negating other instances of the same kind. (To reiterate a point made earlier, the

worry that we are disproving acosmism only at the cost of establishing an Idealism – in the

sense of exclusion of all entities but ideas from existence – can be put to the side, insofar as

we accept Spinoza’s claim that there are no possible causes of falsity in relation to the unique

and infinite substance: given the necessary veracity of all substantial ideas on such premises,

all ideas of finite things that God produces qua thinking will also have “formally” existing

equivalents under the remaining attributes.) Thus, pace Hegel et al, finite things in Spinoza’s

metaphysics, given their constitution by negation, can be shown to follow necessarily from

God's essential nature qua thinking.

From this perspective we can not only illuminate Spinoza’s reasoning in 1p16d,

furnishing the heretofore missing link between the infinite “reality” of substance and its

production of modes, but also show that this proposition can indeed show the necessity of

finite modes in particular. For as we saw in §3, according to Spinoza, part of what it means

for a thinking substance to be infinitely “real” is for it to be a being that thinks an infinity in

an infinity of ways (2p1s), that is, that has an infinitely “objectively” “real” object of thought.

We can now see how the infinite “reality” of the thinking substance corresponds to the

existence of an infinity of finite things in particular. For such finite things offer the thinking

God an infinitely varied object of thought – all possible objects that this substance’s thinking

can constitute by negating certain instances of a particular kind of existence and affirming

others. A substance that (per impossibile, given its essential and necessarily realized capacity

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for thinking by means of negation) conceives only of its own essence, or only gives rise to

infinite modes, would be a substance with a much lesser “reality” than a substance whose

thought has the capacity for negation, since it would have fewer objects to contemplate.209

This then is why Spinoza can legitimately appeal in 1p16d to the RPR linking the infinite

“reality” of God to its production of an infinity of finite effects.

As it stands, the above argument is certainly not an exhaustive confutation of Idealist

criticisms. For it obviously fails to justify some of its basic premises. For example, it offers no

explanation of why the Spinozistic substance must be a “thinking thing”, a premise on which the

entire above argument pivots but which, as we have seen, we cannot justify either by Spinoza’s

official demonstration of this attribute in 2p1, nor by a general appeal to the necessary realization of

all possibles in Spinoza’s metaphysics.210 Secondly, why should we conceive of Thought in general,

but especially divine thought, as essentially the power of affirmation and negation?211 Finally, even if

we grant Spinoza the claim that God is a thinking thing, and even if we grant him an assumption

that seems to be part and parcel of any conception of the nature of thought, namely that thought

209 Of course, following this reasoning, one could argue that Spinoza should have allowed to have

unactualized possibles in the manner of Leibniz, as that would have given God even a greater number of objects for thought.

210 Note that in his official demonstration of the thesis that God is a “thinking thing” in 2p1d Spinoza relies on the empirically given existence of finite thoughts, a subset of finite modes. On the reading just suggested, in 1p16 Spinoza would be appealing to God being such an infinite thinking thing to justify the a priori necessity of the existence of finite modes in general. If Spinoza did not have another way of substantiating the claim that God is a thinking thing (he offers one already in 2p1s), this would mean that he is resting his case for the a priori necessity of all finite modes on the empirical givenness of finite thoughts.

211 Presumably someone who gives this argument would reply on Spinoza’s behalf that the necessary connection between representing anything in thought and the capacity for negation and affirmation form part of the essence of Thought that we necessarily adequately grasp, as we grasp all common notions. I will return to this assumption shortly in more detail.

One could challenge here Spinoza’s anti-Cartesian unification of the representational and volitional aspects of thought. This skepticism about Spinoza’s picture of thought on its own would not however undermine the above account of the origin of finitude, for even if negation and representation were to constitute separate moments of the activity of the thinking substance, the argument still could be made that God qua thinking necessarily thinks finite things.

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will have an object – that it will be thought of something212 – what justifies the further inference that in

thinking God will take only his own attributes as an object of his thought (for it is this that, on the

above account, justifies the necessity of the existence of finite modes)? For this presumes that

thought can have no other object but what is – that is, in the final analysis, substance itself – such

that there cannot be a purely imaginary object of thought (in contrast, for example to Leibniz's God,

who contemplates an infinity of merely possible things).213

Such loose argumentative ends would certainly have to be tied before the above argument

could withstand Idealist criticism. But this is not where the argument is most vulnerable to criticism.

For in addition to being incomplete in these aforementioned ways, it fails in my view for a different

reason. This is because although Spinoza never makes this point explicitly, it is overwhelmingly

clear from Spinoza’s writings that the Spinozistic God does not think by means of negation.214 The

potential finitist-pluralist argument above hinges on Spinoza’s description of the “mind [mens]” as

both “affirming” and “negating” in 2p49. But in concluding that such descriptions constitute a

perfectly general description of “thought” or “conception” as such for Spinoza, the finitist-pluralist

draws what in my view is an unduly hasty, and ultimately false, conclusion. For in fact whenever

Spinoza refers to thought as a capacity for “negation”, he is speaking solely of thinking performed

by a finite “mind”, and never by God’s infinite “intellect [intellectus]”.215 In his writings Spinoza

212 (*) For Spinoza’s endorsement of this cf. 1p30; KV 2.20.[3] c; CM 2.7; I/262. 213 I’m grateful to Clinton Tolley for bringing up this issue. 214 I’m grateful for a discussion of this topic with Michael Della Rocca. 215 (*) Cf. e.g. 2p49, d; 2p48s (II/130); 2p49s[III.A.(i)], [III.B(ii)] (II/132, 134); 3p3s (II/145);

3p25; 3p26); 1def6expl; 1p11d; 1p15s[II], [IV] (II/57, 59); 1p17s[I] (II/62); 1p21d (II/64-5); 1p25d; 2p13s (II/97); 2p33d, 2p37d; 3p52s (II/180); 3DefAffXIexpl (II/193); 4p37s1 (II/236); 4p39s (II/240).

The only instances in the Ethics in which it is not unequivocally clear that negation pertains to finite “minds” alone are, first, the following polemical passage in 2p49s[II]: “They look on ideas…as mute pictures on a panel, and…do not see that an idea, insofar as it is an idea, involves an affirmation or negation” (II/132). However, I think that the context of this line suggests that Spinoza’s topic is still ideas of human minds, as the very next sentence confirms: “And then, those who confuse words with the idea, or with the very affirmation that the idea involves, think that they can will something contrary to what they are aware of, when they only affirm or deny with words something contrary to what they are aware of” (ibid; my ital.). Similarly, the context of the second possibly equivocal passage is also “men's thinking”: “by will I understand a faculty

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systematically distinguishes not just the finite (and especially “human”) “minds” from the infinite

substantial “intellect” – berating “those who feign a God, like man, consisting of a body and a mind

[mente]” (1p15s[1]; II/57)216 – but equally systematically reserves references to any kind of “negation”

or “denial” for his discussion of such (finite) “minds”.217 As he notes, “what is common to all ideas

[omnibus ideis commune est]”, divine and non-divine alike, is “the affirmation [affirmatio]”

(2p49s[III.B(iii)]; II/135; my ital.) alone. As Nietzsche might have put it, Spinoza’s God is solely a

“yes-saying” God. (And so indeed, our negation-wielding minds and the divine yes-saying intellect

turn out to differ as “the dog that is a heavenly constellation and the dog that is a barking animal”

[1p17s[II]; II/63].)

of affirming and denying, and not desire. I say that I understand the faculty by which the Mind affirms or denies something true or something false” (2p48s; II/129).

216 (*) Cf. 1p16; 2p4d; 2p7s (II/90); 1app (II/83); 2p11c, 2p13c; 2p43s (II/24); 2p48d; 5p40s (II/304); 1p15s[I] (II/57). Spinoza’s use of the term “mind” when not explicitly qualified as “human” mind, is predominantly made in reference to its union with a (finite) “body”, or in reference to “imagining” or “confused ideas” (all impossible for God).

“Intellect” accordingly appears predominantly in Part 1, giving way to the terminology of mens with the transition to Part 2. There are a couple of mentions of “mind” in Part 1, but all of them are in reference to the human mind. Spinoza also does mention the possibility of a “finite” intellect (intellectus…finitus) in 1p30 and also entitles Part 5 “On the Power of the Intellect, or on Human Freedom [De potentia intellectus, seu de libertate humana]”, but in the course of Part 5 refers solely to the human “mind” again, which arguably suggests that the Intellect in question in the title is the infinite intellect, insofar as our “minds” are “parts” of it (hence indirectly confirming my infinitist pluralist reading).

Cf. also Spinoza’s comment that “the intellect and will which would constitute God's essence would have to differ entirely from our intellect and will, and could not agree with them in anything except the name. They would not agree with one another any more than do the dog that is a heavenly constellation and the dog that is a barking animal” (1p17s[II]; II/62); note, however, that according to Spinoza God's intellect/will are not an element of God's essence (they are a mode).

Cf. also TTP: “since Scripture, deferring to the limitations of the common people, is accustomed to depict God like a man, and to ascribe to God a mind and a heart…” (1.25).

217 See 2p48s, 2p49,s. Spinoza most often talks about ideas as simply affirming, rather than affirming and negating (cf. e.g. 2p49s [III.B.(i)],[III.B.(ii)], [III.B.(iii)]; II/133-5)

One could wonder here about Spinoza’s justification of the identity of the volitional (affirmative) and representational aspects of thought, which Descartes for one famously kept apart. Presumably Spinoza could put the burden of justification here on the advocate of the Cartesian alternative: why should we pull these two apart as two different aspects of thought in the first place? That is, what grounds do we have for the view that this corresponds to a genuine distinction in thought itself? For all thought is ultimately substantial and true thought: whatever God conceives, he will have every reason to also affirm as true, and his ideas will in fact be true. Thus ‘mere’ representation and affirmation do not come apart in God's thought, but all thought is ultimately God's thought, thus why should we conceive of these as two different mental operations or two different kinds of modes of thought?

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In short, the textual evidence overwhelmingly points to the conclusion that for Spinoza only

finite “thinking things” entertain relations of negation, just as only finite thinking things can be said

to have “inadequate” ideas. But the fact that God’s thinking consists in pure affirmations means

that, in thinking of himself, God does not negate any part of his own existence, and thus does not

conceive of finite things – and this is not as a limitation on God or a lack on his part, but testament

to the fact that like falsity or passivity, negation from the divine point of view is not a genuine

existent.218 In other words, contrary to the standard interpretation of the significance of divine

“omniscience” within Spinoza’s metaphysical framework,219 Spinoza’s God does not in fact

apprehend anything finite as finite. Thus, from the divine point of view, which apprehends things as

they truly are sub specie aeternitatis, finite things simply do not exist. (To come back to a problem

raised in §1, one consequence of this is that because the third kind of knowledge is supposed to be

an “adequate knowledge the essences of things” (2p40s2[IV]; II/122; my ital), scientia intuitiva cannot be

a knowledge of finite things qua finite, contrary to what is asserted by the majority of

commentators.220)

218 Thus although in one sense Deleuze is right to say that that Spinoza’s philosophy is a philosophy

of “pure affirmation” (Expressionism, 60), this to my mind is irreconcilable with Deleuze’s embrace of finitist pluralism.

219 (*) Cf. e.g. Della Rocca: “God, as omniscient and as fully rational, conceives of my body as following from God’s nature considered as extended. Thus God conceives of my body as eternal, and so this idea genuinely is eternal. Since…my mind is simply God’s idea of my body – it follows that my mind is, for Spinoza, eternal. …The eternality I enjoy here is distinctively mine – centered as it is on God’s idea of a particular body, viz. my body, that occupies a distinctive place in the causal network of bodies. Thus the eternal thing that I am is distinct from the eternal thing that you are because your eternality consists in God’s eternal idea of a distinct body, your body.” (Spinoza, 257-8)

Cf. also Friedman, who dismisses the idea that “[f]inite things, especially mutable things, don't really fall under the infinite intellect” with the following remark: “I propose to argue against this as a hopeless case. Surely finite mutable things (and much else) do fall under God's intellect. … [T]here is [also] strong textual evidence against this view… Consider especially the corollary to (P11, EII): ‘Hence it follows that the human mind is a part (partem) of the infinite intellect of God’… since being a part of God's intellect entails falling under God's intellect, it follows that a finite mutable thing (the human mind) can and does fall under the infinite intellect of God.” (“How the finite follows”, 374-5). However, this last point seems to me to be a non-sequitur, since being a part does not entail being a discernible part.

Cf. also De Dijn, “Wisdom and Theoretical Knowledge”, 149. 220 (*) Cf. note 44 above.

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This interpretation of divine thought has still a further consequence. If it is true that God

does not know any finite thing as finite, then God also does not formally produce any finite things.

This follows from the fact that God has only veridical perceptions;221 his “power of thinking is equal

[aequalis] to his actual power of acting [agendi potentiae]”, such that “whatever follows formally

[formaliter] from God's infinite nature follows objectively [objective]” (2p7c). Or, as Spinoza puts it in

1p16, what “follows” from God is everything that “can fall under an infinite intellect”, i.e., from the

fact that God is the “efficient cause” of all – but also, only – that which falls under his intellect

(1p16c1): if finite things qua finite do not fall under the divine intellect, if they are incapable of

constituting an object for divine thought, then God will also not formally produce them.222 And so,

contrary to how 1p16 is interpreted almost without exception,223 I want to suggest that the

overwhelming, albeit admittedly indirect textual evidence leads to the conclusion that this

proposition simply cannot be read as establishing that finite things “follow” from God. Once we

grant that divine thought is purely affirmative, the veridical nature of all God's ideas rules out, we

should note, the possibility that we could show the necessity of God’s causation of finite modes by

approaching this problem from the perspective of an attribute other than Thought, which had been

the route attempted by the argument above (for example, by demonstrating the necessity of finite

bodies.)

In short, according to Spinoza, the true account of what is sub specie aeternitatis will not

include anything that has been constituted through negation. Thus Spinoza remarks that “negation”

“cannot be numbered among the affections of being” (CM 1.3; I/241), and that have to understand

221 (*) Cf. e.g. 1p32ff, or “there is no thing of which there is not an Idea in the thinking thing, and no

idea can exist unless the thing also exists” (KV 2.20.[3] c). 222 As was the case for Descartes and for many other thinkers in the Augustinian tradition, also for

Spinoza God is only “absolutely and really the cause of everything that has essence” (Ep. 23; IV/47), that is, only of positive being, but not of any lack or negative element. Cf. e.g. Fourth Med. (AT VII 60); First Repl. (AT VII 111, 118); Pr I 23 (AT VIIIA 14); cf. Spinoza, PCP I (I/174-6).

223 (*) See note 44.

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“nothing as the negation of all reality”, rather than “feign[ing] or imagin[ing] it to be something real”

(CM 2.10; I/268).224 Thus for Spinoza “every definition” – that is, every statement of the “essence”

of some res – “must be affirmative” (TdIE [96]; II/35);225 every definition “affirms, and does not deny

[affirmat sed non negat], the thing's essence” (3p4d; my ital.).226 Hegel faults Spinoza for failing to

demonstrate the necessity of finite things by failing to show the necessary self-negation of Being, but

Spinoza regards negation as simply incapable of showing anything about Being.227

Thus, if Spinoza is an ontological pluralist – which is something that remains to be proven –

he can only be an infinitist pluralist, a thinker who admits only infinite entities into existence, entities

not determined by any negation. We must conclude then that from the point of view of what

genuinely has a claim to eternal existence in Spinozistic Nature, finite individuals must indeed be

judged to be merely the products of our inadequate understanding, as the Idealists have long

insisted. Ultimately, from the point of view of a metaphysical account of what truly ‘is’, regarding

something as “finite” indeed proves to be on par in its inadequacy with conceiving of substance in

terms of “really distinct” “parts”.

224 (*) Cf. also “we imagine nonentities positively, as beings… we imagine as if they were beings all those modes which the mind uses for negating, such as blindness, extremity or limit, term, darkness, etc”…. (CM 1.1; I/234); “Things that are said to agree in nature are understood to agree in power (by 3p7), but not in lack of power, or negation… If someone says that black and white agree only in this, that neither is red, he affirms absolutely that black and white agree in nothing. Similarly, if someone says that a stone and a man agree only in this, that each is finite, lacks power, does not exist from the necessity of its nature, or, finally, is indefinitely surpassed by the power of external causes, he affirms completely that a stone and a man do not agree in anything. For things that agree only in a negation, or in what they do not have, really agree in nothing.” (4p32d,s).

225 (*) Spinoza elaborates as follows: “I mean intellectual affirmation – it matters little whether the definition is verbally affirmative; because of the poverty of language it will sometimes perhaps [only] be able to be expressed negatively, although it is understood affirmatively” (TdIE [96]; II/35).

226 Spinoza also claims that “whatever expresses essence and involves no negation pertains [pertinet] to [God’s] essence” (1def6expl), but this is not relevant for two reasons to the present discussion of finite modes: first of all finite modes do not “pertain” to God’s essence; secondly, the statement does not rule out the possibility that negation can “pertain” to what follows from God's essence.

227 (*) Cf. Hegel’s complaint that “Those who maintain the proposition: nothing is just nothing, and even grow heated in its defense, are unaware that in so doing they are subscribing to the abstract pantheism of the Eleatics, and also in principle to that of Spinoza. The philosophical view for which ‘being is only being, nothing is only nothing’, is a valid principle…this abstract identity is the essence of pantheism” (SL, 84).

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To be clear, none of this means that for Spinoza finite things qua finite are devoid of

empirically knowable existence – that in duration we experience finite things.228 This is precisely the

realm of the first, inadequate, kind of knowledge.229 For Spinoza, the only kind of knowledge we

can have of finite things qua finite is empirical, but there is no non-reductive account of finitude sub

specie aeternitatis. To this extent then Spinoza finds himself at the opposite end of the

philosophical spectrum from Descartes: for the latter, the phenomenologically manifest self serves

as the foundation of all truth; for the former, this finite self does not even exist from the point of

view of a true metaphysical account.

Spinoza’s exclusion of finite things from his metaphysical account does carry, however,

repercussions for several of his doctrines, usually construed as theses pertaining, either first and

foremost or exclusively, to finite individuals. First of all, there is Spinoza’s notorious thesis of the

eternity of the mind (5p31). Given his exclusion of the relations of negation from the articulation of

what truly is, Spinoza cannot have meant to assert that our minds qua discrete finite individuals are

eternal. Similarly, given that, as we saw Chapter 3, “striving” is nothing but the “actual essence” of a

thing (3p7), and striving as we saw occurs both in duration and sub specie aeternitatis, finite things

qua cannot be said to strive sub specie aeternitatis. Likewise, to revisit another thread from that

Chapter, our present anti-finitist conclusion furnishes a further argument against weak readings of

Spinoza’s criticism of teleology. For Spinoza cannot be taken to preserve the validity of finite ends

alone in his metaphysics, as we’ve seen some scholars allege, since, speaking in metaphysical rigor,

there are no finite ends. Finally, we must conclude that whenever Spinoza refers in his writings to

finite “res”, or (as for example in the Physical Digression) to finite “natures” and “forms”, he is using

228 Regrettably I have no room to address adequately here the nature of duration in Spinoza’s

metaphysics, but I would like to suggest that in fact duration for Spinoza is nothing over and above the existence of finite things, and hence does not form part of a true metaphysical account of Nature.

229 Cf. Spinoza’s comment that “we need experience” to know that modes exist (Ep. 10; IV/47). Presumably in the letter Spinoza has in mind finite modes.

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such idioms in a looser sense than that employed in his definition of “essence” in 2def2 – a sense

not intended to imply the existence of a corresponding unique finite “essence” sub specie

aeternitatis, but at most referring only to an empirically knowable finite ‘nature’.

These all are, to be sure, primarily negative conclusions – conclusions about what such

doctrines cannot mean. For a fuller, positive account of these doctrines we will have to wait until we

make clearer the status of infinite modes in Spinoza’s metaphysics in Part III. But before we can

turn to this topic of the fate of infinite modes, in the two remaining sections of the present Part of

the Chapter I would like to tie some loose ends left over from our discussion of negation and

finitude in the present section. In particular, in §7 I want to address possible objections to the anti-

finitist conclusions just drawn, and secondly (in §8) I want to highlight a more general consequence

Spinoza’s view of negation will have for his causal metaphysics.

§7. Objections to the proposed account of negation

Let me summarize the principal conclusions of the foregoing section. I have argued that

since, according to Spinoza, finite things are constituted though negation, if the capacity to negate

pertained essentially to the substantial infinite “intellect”, we could demonstrate the necessity of

finite things in Spinoza’s metaphysics by appealing to God’s nature as essentially a thinking thing. In

this way we could disprove acosmic interpretations of Spinoza’s philosophy, on the twofold

assumption that later we could also show that 1) God is necessarily a res cogitans, and that 2) thought

must be regarded as essentially a capacity not just for affirming represented objects but also for

negating them. However, given that in fact Spinoza conceives of the substantial intellect as solely

the power to affirm, such an argument falls through, and we are forced to concede to the Idealists

that from the point of view of a true account of what is, Spinoza’s God can neither apprehend nor

produce finite modes as discernible finite individuals. Hence Spinoza’s alleged failure to show why

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finite things must proceed from God’s nature, which had fueled Idealist criticism, proves to be not a

lacuna in Spinoza’s demonstrations, but a consequence of his commitment to the non-existence of

finite things qua finite sub specie aeternitatis, following a non-Hegelian interpretation of the nature

of negation as what is completely different and separable from “being”.230

Are there ways open to a proponent of a finitist-pluralist reading of Spinoza’s philosophy to

object to such conclusions? Four possible arguments come to mind here, and I want to address

them briefly in this section, to show that in the end all of them prove incapable of undermining the

anti-finitist interpretation of Spinoza’s metaphysics outlined in §6.

The finitist pluralist may argue, first of all, as follows:

(i) We cannot infer the metaphysical unreality of finite things from the fact that they are

constituted through negation because in his metaphysics Spinoza expressly differentiates

(Ep. 19, 21) “negation” from the kind of negative relation that is a mere “being of the

imagination”, namely from “privation [privatio]” (and, in marking such a distinction, he is

drawing on an Aristotelian logical tradition with deep roots231). If the apprehension of what

is negated were also merely a function of inadequate understanding as privation is, Spinoza’s

distinction between these two notions would lose all meaning.

“Privation” traditionally denoted what a certain thing, or species of a thing, normally

should, or could, be, but has failed to be. In the context of Spinoza’s epistemology,

“privation” becomes therefore solely a product of inadequate understanding: privative ideas

230 Hegel proposes that it is with the notion of causa sui – as the overcoming of the opposites of cause

and effect – that Spinoza reaches a proper understanding of the nature of negation; however, the rest of Spinoza’s metaphysics does not, Hegel believes, live up to the promise of that opening definition (LHP 3. 258).

231 (*) Cf. e.g. Aristotle (Met. 1022b25, 1022b29, Cat. 11b15, Top. 109b18); Ockham (Summa logicae 12); Judah Halevi (Kuzari, II, 2); Descartes (4th Med.; AT VII 60; 1st Repl.; AT VII 111; cf. Spinoza, PCP I; I/174-6).

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are notions we construct in the imagination when we compare particular things, falling back

onto empty general ideas of kinds.232 What privative notions claim to describe – such as, for

example, the “evil” of some action – does not, in metaphysical rigor, exist; it is not a thing or

effect caused by God.233 So if it were “privation” rather than “negation” that in Spinoza’s

eyes rendered a thing “finite”, there would be no question that we would have a good reason

to deny the metaphysical existence of finite things. Instead, however, Spinoza distinguishes

between “negation” and “privation” as between adequate and inadequate ideas of

nothingness: “negation” is the true nature of “privation” Thus in a letter Spinoza compares

the blindness of a man and the blindness of a stone: if we truly understand the blindness of

this blind man we know that this blindness is, in metaphysical rigor, strictly nothing, and not

a lack. In this context of discussing these obviously finite entities, Spinoza remarks that to

“negate” is to “den[y] something of a thing because it does not pertain to its nature” (Ep. 21;

IV/129; my ital.): here negation does seem to reflect the way Nature is carved at its joints.

Similarly, Spinoza writes that although privative ideas – such as the “evil” of “Adam’s

decision” – “can be said only in relation to our intellect”, God nonetheless “can be”

considered to be the “cause” of “Adam’s decision” itself (Ep. 19; IV/91-2), thus

incontrovertibly of a finite mode. In other words, only the description of a finite deed that

rests on a privative notion is rejected by Spinoza as something that cannot be among God’s

effects. The finite deed itself, however, has not been excluded from the realm of divine

effects.

232 (*) Cf. 2p40s1, Ep. 21 (I/128-9); Ep. 19 (IV/91-2); cf. also CM 2.7 (I/262). 233 More precisely, the referent of an inadequate idea such as “the evil of Nero’s action” does not

exist in the way we imagine it to. What does exist empirically are certain actions that Nero performed, together with their deterministic causes and effects, and the series of causes which gave rise to our inadequate imagining that there is something like “Nero's disobedience”. But, in metaphysical rigor, and sub specie aeternitatis, only an infinite causal whole containing all these events exists.

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This is not to deny, of course, that Spinoza’s treatment of “privative” ideas forces us

to rethink of what can count as genuinely belonging to a finite thing. Although finite things

prove real, nonetheless even on the finitist-pluralist account these will not be finite

individuals as we ordinarily conceive of them. For any thing we are used to identifying by

means of such “privative” ideas – any perception of ourselves as “imperfect”, “lacking” or

“failing” – cannot truly be a part of the finite nature caused by God.

On the basis of the evidence of these two letters, the finitist pluralist’s claim that for Spinoza

“negation” and “privation” cannot simply be lumped together, may indeed appear quite plausible.

(And indeed some of Spinoza’s Idealist – and not only234 – commentators are guilty of failing to

distinguish between these two notions, treating the referents of negative and privative ideas as

equally illusory.235) However, what the above account neglects to mention is that in the systematic

exposition of his philosophy in the Ethics Spinoza explicitly describes “negation” as something we

ourselves “attribute [tribuimus]” to things (4Pref; II/207), just as we attribute privation to them.236

Conversely, in the Ethics there is no longer any suggestion that the relation of “negation” does

manage to reflect how Nature is ‘carved at its joints.’

But even if we restrict ourselves just to the evidence of the two letters to which the finitist

pluralist appeals above, we can be equally skeptical about the proposed counterargument. For in

these letters, Spinoza is occupied with a controversy over moral matters. The ontological status of

negation itself – that is, whether or not negation itself really is, whether Adam’s decision was caused

qua finite – is not his concern there. On these grounds we can expect him not to pay attention to

234 (*) Cf. e.g. Carriero’s claim that Spinoza collapses negation and privation (“Spinoza on final

causality”, 130, “On the Relationship between Substance and Mode”, 270). 235 (*) Cf. e.g. Hegel: “Evil [for Spinoza] is merely negation, privation, limitation, finality, mode –

nothing in itself truly real.” (LHP 3.278). 236 (*) Cf. also 3p3s which associates “passions” (so inadequate ideas) with “negation” (II/145).

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tangential metaphysical niceties. (Likewise, in these letters Spinoza feels no need to clarify for his

correspondent in what sense God’s causality could be said to involve an exercise of his “will” [Ep.

21; I/128] – and in particular that no ordinary understanding of will as uncaused and inclined to the

good can be involved here.) 237

Finally, we should point out that, contrary to the above objection, to keep the two notions

of negation and privation distinct as notions it is not necessary to insist that one of them must have

metaphysical validity. Both of these notions can be inadequate from a metaphysical point of view,

without for all that becoming indistinguishable: for privation has a very specific normative and

comparative sense that negation as such does not.

In sum, this first attempt to argue against the infinitist conclusions drawn in §6, by

appealing to Spinoza’s distinction between “privation” and “negation”, makes a very weak case for

the finitist-pluralist reading. The finitist pluralist may thus try to admit negation into Spinoza’s

metaphysics by a different door, via his doctrine of the attributes:

(ii) At first blush, Spinoza may indeed appear to endorse the long-standing theological

tradition of regarding God as an absolute positivity. (This is certainly how the Idealists

interpreted Spinoza.238) This verdict might appear confirmed by Spinoza’s declaration that

“whatever expresses essence and involves no negation pertains to [God’s] essence” (1def6).

But in fact this does not give us the whole picture of Spinoza’s God, and indeed, gives us

only a very distorted one. For Spinoza does not treat God as pure positivity: his definition of

God makes clear that negation constitutes a genuine element of God’s own constitution.

237 (*) Cf. esp. 1p32, 2p49. 238 (*) Cf. e.g. Joachim, Study, 104-6: God is “absolutely positive”, “excluding all negation from his

being”. Cf. also Macherey, Hegel ou Spinoza 33-4, 37, where Macherey describes Spinoza’s “substance” as

“absolue positivité”, “l’identité immédiate de l’absolu à lui-même”, “plénitude primordiale” .

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This is because according to Spinoza attributes are mutually negating forms of being. This

can be gathered from Spinoza’s clarification, in his official definition of God, that “if

something is only infinite in its own kind” – as is an attribute – “we can deny [negare] infinite

attributes of it [NS: (i.e., we can conceive infinite attributes which do not pertain [niet behoren]

to its nature)]” (1def6expl). This last clause echoes in very precise fashion Spinoza’s gloss of

“negation” as “denying something of a thing because it does not pertain to its nature” (Ep.

21; I/128).239 So although it is indeed true that each attribute is itself infinite and unlimited

in existence, and thus predicates of God “whatever expresses essence and involves no

negation”, the concepts of divine essences, or of the attributes, themselves stand to one

another in a relation of negation. By defining God as a being with infinite attributes,

Spinoza thus places negation at the very heart of what is, making clear that relations of

negation are capable of describing Nature at the most fundamental level of his metaphysics,

and not just at the more ‘remote’ level of the most mediated – finite – effects. But if

negation is capable of articulating God’s constitution – articulating what makes him

“absolutely” infinite and not just infinite in one kind – then we cannot deny existence to

finite things on the basis of their constitutional reference to negation.

This kind of argument can appear quite persuasive. (Indeed, Joachim, despite his generally

acosmic leanings, is so drawn to it that, rather than giving it up, he is willing to see Spinoza as simply

contradicting himself here, by simultaneously holding onto a negative conception of the attributes

and onto God’s unqualified positivity.240) Yet the above counterargument does not quite go

through, for at least two reasons. First of all, despite the similarities in Spinoza’s descriptions of

239 (*) Cf. also: “the nature of thought…does not at all [minime] involve the concept of extension”

(2p49s[II]; II/132). 240 (*) Cf. Joachim, Study (104-6). According to Joachim, to escape this contradiction Spinoza would

have to make attributes a product of inadequate understanding, as modes (in Joachim’s opinion) are.

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negation in the definition of God and in Ep. 21 (according to which negation is what does not

“pertain” to something), it is clear that the “negation” involved in rendering something finite is not

the same as the “negation” that obtains between the attributes. 241 For, unlike the relations of

negation that finite things of the same “kind or nature” (1def2), or under the same attribute, bear to

one another, the inter-attribute relation of negation does not depend on a shared conceptual sphere

or genus: the attributes’ “negation” is not subordinate to a common concept, in the way that “size”

and “shape” are reducible to Extension and “thinking” or “doubting” are intelligible only in terms of

Thought.242 Because they are conceptually radically dissimilar, attributes cannot limit or preclude

each other, hence each one remains “infinite”, despite “negating” every other kind of being. In

contrast, when finite things negate one another, they limit one another, and thus constitute one

another as “finite”. Attributes are not mutually constituted by means of negation in this manner;

they can be said to “negate” each other only in the sense that they simply “do not pertain” to one

another. Rather than describing this kind of relation as one of negation, it would be more accurate

therefore to say that attributes are simply distinct or different: thus the “real distinction” of the

attributes from one another (1p10s) has to be understood as a relation of mere difference, not that

of negation.243

241 Both between attributes themselves, and between the modes of different attributes. 242 One could make the following objection: we can in fact identify a common conceptual sphere or

genus for all the attributes: it is simply the concept of “attribute” (or “essence”). Under that concept, each kind of attribute negates every other attribute precisely in the same way as finite bodies negate each other under the concept of “extension”. However, even if we grant that there is similarity of having a common genus both in the case of finite negation and in the case of the attributes’ relation of mere difference, the two kinds of relation nonetheless remain disparate in other respects: attributes are not constituted through their difference, nor do they preclude one another in any way. This continues to limit the relevance of the inter-attribute relation to the case of finite modes. (The immediate and mediate infinite modes under a given attribute are also obviously subsumed under one and the same concept, and yet clearly do not limit one another.)

243 (*) Cf. Deleuze: in Spinoza, the notion of real distinction “open[s] up a new conception of the negative, free from opposition and privation”; “the terms distinguished each retain their respective positivity, instead of being defined by opposition to one another. Non opposita sed diversa is the formula of the new logic” (Expressionism, 60, transl. alt.).

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This fundamental dissimilarity in the two kinds of “negation” implicit in Spinoza’s

philosophy seems to me to undermine irreparably the finitist-pluralist’s argument: the “real

distinction” between the attributes, understood as a relation of pure or mere difference, seems to be

simply irrelevant to the question of the metaphysical admissibility of the (limiting and constituting)

negation that governs finite things. However, overlooking this disparity between finite “negation”

and the attributes’ “real distinction” is not the only flaw in the above argument. For this argument

also neglects to note that Spinoza repeatedly and consistently describes this “negation” as a matter

of how we apprehend the difference between the attributes244 (indeed, the claim that attributes

“negate” one another appears not in the Definition itself – which is supposed to be an adequate and

true description of the essence of a thing – but in the supplemental “Explicatio”). And this

systematic appearance of the idea of negation solely within contexts describing how we think of

infinity (a notoriously “difficult, indeed insoluble” concept, as Spinoza notes elsewhere [Ep. 12;

IV/53]), sows enough doubt about the veracity of this kind of ‘negative’ way of apprehending

substantial “absolute infinity” to fatally weaken, in my view, the finitist-pluralist’s argument. For is

thinking in terms of negation how we ought to think about “absolute infinity” and substantial

attributes, to think in accordance with how things really are?

The finitist pluralist might then try to overturn the conclusion that negations disqualifies

finite things from existence sub specie aeternitatis by employing a different strategy: rather than

attempting to rehabilitate negation, as in the first two objections, she might try to minimize its role

in the constitution of finite things, as in the next two counterarguments:

(iii) Even if we must concede to the Idealist that Spinoza links finitude to negation, the

Idealist must conversely acknowledge that Spinoza says that being finite is only “in part [ex

244 (*) Thus Spinoza writes that “we can [possumus] deny infinite attributes”, and again that “we can [men kan] conceive infinite attributes which do not pertain” (1def6expl).

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parte]” a matter of negation (1p8s1). The positive “part” of each finite thing is constituted by

the intrinsic properties of the finite mode in question. As we saw in §5, finite things can have

intrinsic properties because they can be adequate causes of at least some of their effects.

This is enough to show that finite things are not constituted and distinguished solely through

negation by other finite things. Instead, each finite thing has at least some positive

properties that individuate it, making it what it is, apart from any relational and negative

considerations. And to the extent that finite things have this sort of positive and intrinsic

constituent or “part”, they can, qua finite, “fall under the infinite intellect”, and thus also can

“follow” from God’s essence.

Whether Spinoza is entitled to see finite things as adequate causes of any kind has been

disputed,245 but it is not this that undoes the finitist pluralist’s third attempted argument What

undoes it is its conflation of the properties of intrinsicness and positivity. For even if we grant that a

finite mind can be the adequate cause of some of its ideas, and thus can have intrinsic and not

merely relational properties, the finitist pluralist overlooks that these ideas themselves are

(“formally”) finite and therefore themselves constitutionally involve negation.246 In focusing on a

245 Cf. e.g. Della Rocca: “for a certain idea that the human mind has to be adequate, the human mind

must include all the ideas that are the causal antecedents of this idea. How could the human mind…have all these ideas?” (Representation and the Mind-Body Problem in Spinoza, 183n29). But note that even Della Rocca recognizes that Spinoza does state that finite minds have adequate ideas, only questions Spinoza’s entitlement to this position.

I am unable to address this complex topic here, and fortunately the finitist pluralist’s argument does not go through anyway for another reason. However, it’s worth noting that it does not seem that we could have adequate ideas of finite things, since these require an infinite series of causal antecedents (1p28) (indeed Spinoza explicitly notes that the infinite chain of causes of events in duration is beyond the scope of our cognition; cf.1p31). Insofar as Spinoza holds that any idea a finite mind has relates to that mind formally as part to whole (2p11c), it is impossible for a formally finite mind to think of infinitely many causes if each such thought requires an individual idea of a cause. And to my knowledge Spinoza never explicitly asserts in the Ethics that we have adequate ideas of finite things.

246 As Spinoza writes in the definition of finitude: “[t]hus a thought is limited by another thought…”). To be clear, it is not just my ideas that exclude and limit each other: within the infinite collection of all adequate ideas, my adequate ideas – that is, my mind insofar as it understands – are in turn

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finite mind’s adequate ideas we have thus merely shifted the problem from the level of finite

individuals to the level of their constituent parts, but ended up running into the same obstacle as

before: the negation that constitutes even my adequate ideas as finite cannot “fall under the infinite

intellect”, and so these ideas cannot show up in a true account of Nature as discernible finite ideas,

any more than I myself can. Thus when Spinoza observes that finite things are only in “part”

constituted by negation, this claim should not be taken to mean that there exists some positive but

finite constituent of this finite individual, but rather that a finite thing is essentially a negation of

some positive infinite whole. Even adequate or true finite ideas, despite their adequacy, do not exist

from the point of view of eternity according to Spinoza.247

As one final line of defense, the finitist pluralist could try to make the following argument,

which, like the objection we just examined, attempts to downplay the significance of negation for

the constitution of finite things:

(iv) The anti-finitist was much too quick in the argument of section §6 to run together

“negation” and “limitation”. After all, it is not the vocabulary of “negating” but of “limiting

[terminare]” that plays a central role in Spinoza’s official definition of “finite thing” (1def2).

We must therefore reconceive Spinozistic “finitude” in terms of a “limitation” that does not

make any reference to “negation”. This will allow finite things to reclaim their rightful place

as genuine and purely positive res sub specie aeternitatis, alongside substance itself.

limited by ideas that make up other finite minds, insofar as they understand.

247 As I will later argue, our minds can be eternal therefore only qua indistinct components of an infinite adequate idea – and more precisely, the infinite idea of the totality of what is. Spinoza discusses this infinite idea e.g. in 2p8s.

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This final objection may seem implausible on straightforwardly textual grounds. For in his

writings Spinoza repeatedly and explicitly associates being finite with “negation”,248 and explicitly

describes “limitation” itself as a sort of negation.249 Yet despite the textual implausibility of the

specific proposal just outlined, this proposal also hints at what in my view is perhaps the most

promising avenue available to the finitist-pluralist to block the conclusion that God cannot know, or

cause, finite things. For the basic idea underlying it is that perhaps there is a way to understand the

nature of finitude that would not make reference to “negation”. In the TdIE Spinoza writes that “it

matters little whether the definition [of a thing] is verbally [as opposed to “intellectually”]

affirmative; because of the poverty of language it will sometimes perhaps [only] be able to be

expressed negatively, although it is understood affirmatively” (TdIE [96]; II/35). In the present

context, this remark opens up the possibility that Spinoza’s use of the language of negation in his

description of finite things is intended to express something that in itself is purely “affirmative”.

Here the finitist-pluralist could use in her defense an argument that was earlier used to defeat her.

For, arguably, we witnessed precisely this sort of impoverished “verbal” expression in terms of

“negation” of what is “intellectually” “affirmative” in the explicatio accompanying Spinoza’s

definition of God. In that case, we concluded that despite Spinoza’s reliance on the terminology of

“negare”, attributes cannot truly negate each other, and that it would be more accurate to term their

relation one of mere ‘difference’. Perhaps, similarly, the nature of finitude, and the nature of “modal

distinction”, could also be grasped in terms of purely affirmative ‘differences’ among things.

This may be the most promising avenue for challenging the infinitist conclusion that for

Spinoza finite things cannot show up in a true account of Nature sub specie aeternitatis.

Nonetheless, it’s not clear how we could flesh out this sort of hypothesis – nor that it is even

248 (*) Cf. e.g. 4p32s; 1p8s1; 1def6expl. Cf. also 3p3s (II/145) and 4p32d for Spinoza’s linking of negation to the “passions” (which no infinite thing can suffer) and see note 215 for Spinoza's systematic association of the thinking of (finite) “minds” with negation.

249 (*) Cf. e.g. 4Pref (II/207); cf. Descartes First Repl. (AT VII 111).

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possible to do so, on the basis of what Spinoza actually says. Nor does there seem to be any specific

textual evidence that Spinoza is committed to this sort of purely affirmative view of finitude, and

that all his references to negation could thus be discounted in the same way that we appear to be

entitled to discount the references to “negation” in Spinoza’s description of the attributes given their

appearance in a merely supplementary contexts; their reference to our apprehension specifically; and

the lack of a shared higher concept that would be required for negation. On the available textual

and doctrinal evidence, the infinitist interpretation of Spinoza’s metaphysics thus appears to remain

the best-supported hypothesis, and so it seems that we must conclude that from the point of view of

a true account of what is, Spinoza’s God can neither apprehend nor produce finite modes as

discernible finite individuals.

Before we examine in the next Part whether infinite modes are equally metaphysically

insignificant in Spinoza’s view, in the next and final section of this Part of the Chapter I want to

draw our attention to one more consequence of Spinoza’s view that negation is the province of

finite minds alone. It is a consequence that bears not just on Spinoza’s causal metaphysics

specifically but on an important metaphysical and logical principle more generally.

§8. Spinoza on the Principle of Contradiction

The consequence I have in mind is this: it seems to follow from Spinoza’s conception of

negation, outlined above, that the Spinozist God cannot conceive not just of finite things,

constituted through negation, but also of the Principle of Contradiction (PoC), that is of the axiom

that ‘For any A, nothing can be both A and not-A’ – or, more precisely put, from the divine vantage

point, the Principle of Contradiction does not articulate a truth.250 Thus it seems that Spinoza must

250 Thus Spinoza could be said to distinguish between the PoC and the Principle of Identity (PoI), or

the proposition that ‘For any A, A is A’ (in contrast for example to Leibniz, who identifies the two Principles – cf. e.g. Theodicy, G VI 413-4; cf. also G IV 359; V 14; VII 309, 355; VI 413), although perhaps even that is

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be understood as denying that strictly speaking the PoC has any objective validity, as long as its

reference to ‘not-A’ is understood as a reference to a relation of negation and not to one of mere

difference. (Similarly, in Spinoza’s formulation of the PSR as the necessity of the existence of a

reason “as much for [a thing’s] existence as for its nonexistence” (1p11alt; II/52), the clause

referring to nonexistence – whose addition is often seen as evidence of Spinoza’s particularly strong

version of this Principle251 – would have to be dropped if this Principle were to be formulated from

the point of view of an infinite intellect.)

The PoC cannot thus be counted, at least as it stands, among adequate ideas – at most it can

be considered a “useful” notion.252 That an idea of a contradiction is not an idea that the infinite

intellect itself will form is perhaps the reason that Spinoza never asserts this Principle, as one may

have expected him to have done, among his fundamental Axioms in the Ethics. Yet, as any reader of

Spinoza’s writings will know well, in his own proofs Spinoza repeatedly appeals to the intolerability

of contradiction.253 Insofar as the Ethics relies on such proofs, it must thus be seen as a

demonstration by, and for, a finite mind, and as invalid from the point of view of an infinite intellect.

The Ethics has occasioned much debate around the question of what kind of knowledge it itself is

supposed to represent,254 but the main battle lines have always been drawn around the choice

between second and third kinds of knowledge, both of which are in Spinoza’s view necessarily

adequate (2p40s2). However, Spinoza’s reliance on the PoC in the treatise suggests instead that we

not the case, if we see the PoI as necessarily making use of universals. There does not seem to be any way to derive the PoC from the PoI, without question-beggingly assuming the possibility of negation.

In this context it is perhaps worth noting that in Hegel’s view, Spinoza’s failure to reach a Hegelian conception of “negation of negation” derives at least in part from his intolerance of contradiction (LHP 3.286-7).

251 (*) See e.g. Della Rocca, Spinoza, 4. 252 (*) Cf. 2p40s1 (II/120), CM I.1 (I/233). 253 (*) Cf. e.g. 1p6altd, 1p11altd[1] (II/53); 1p13s; 1p31s1 (II/74); 4p61d. 254 (*) Cf. e.g. Fløistad, “Knowledge and the whole-part structure of nature”, 40.

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must regard the Ethics as also at least sometimes exemplifying knowledge of the first kind.255

(Indeed, we should recall here that Spinoza himself explicitly describes one of his axioms – 4Ax1 –

as holding only for things in duration [5p37s; II/304], and as not true sub specie aeternitatis.)

From the point of view of Spinoza’s causal metaphysics, Spinoza’s rejection of the

metaphysical validity of the PoC means that we cannot understand what consequences follow from

the essence of a thing – mode or substance – by applying this Principle. That is, we cannot explain

what propria any thing has by pointing to their non-contradictory nature. Recall here from Chapter

2 Spinoza’s purely positive or affirmative characterization in 3p4 of the reasons why all things “strive

to persevere”: the essence of a thing gives no grounds from which to infer any negating (from the

conceptual point of view) or destructive (from the causal point of view) consequences. We of

course can apprehend (and indeed “verbalize”) these purely positive relations of “following” by

reference to the PoC, namely as the production of effects that will not contradict either this essence

or one another. However, all that the substantial intellect grasps is the purely affirmative relations of

consequences following from an essence. Whatever validity the PoC can be said to have is grounded

in and derivative in relation to these metaphysically more fundamental and purely positive relations

of essential following; the PoC does not explain what can follow from an essence .

The fact that Spinoza rejects the validity of the PoC sub specie aeternitatis means that

Spinoza would ultimately be unmoved by Bayle’s charge that Spinoza’s substance monism leads to

an “overthrow of the first principles of metaphysics”, because this leads him to predicate

“contradictory terms” of one and the same substance (HCD, 310). This is a charge from which

scholars typically try to shield Spinoza by arguing either that we shouldn’t view Spinoza’s modes as

“properties” but merely as efficiently-caused effects (so Curley) or (more plausibly) by pointing out

255 It’s important to keep in mind here that although knowledge of the first kind is indeed the only

possible source of falsity (2p41), it is also capable of guiding us to true conclusions (albeit disconnected from their premises). Cf. Spinoza’s own mathematical proportion example in 2p40s2.

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that Spinoza always qualifies the respect in which a mode, qua property, stands to God (so that God

is ‘A’ “insofar as [quatenus]” he is one mode, but ‘not-A’ “insofar as” he is another mode); arguably,

as in the case of attributes and their “real distinction” earlier, once again we see here Spinoza

endorsing relations of mere difference without negation, this time at the level of the divine

properties that follow from the attributes. Given Spinoza’s rejection of the metaphysical validity of

this PoC such attempts at defense will seem unnecessary. For Spinoza is indeed guilty of the charge

of overthrowing at least one fundamental metaphysical principle, the PoC – although this is not, as

Bayle alleged, because Spinoza embraces contradictory conclusions. Rather it is because he pushes

the very notion of contradiction, so celebrated by philosophers from the very beginning of

philosophy itself, off its metaphysical pedestal.

PART C: SPINOZA’S PLURALISM

In Part II, I have tried to illuminate the degree to which acosmic readings of Spinoza,

advocated by German and British Idealists, latch onto a fundamental truth about Spinoza’s

metaphysics insofar as they raise the possibility that Spinoza denies the existence of finite things sub

specie aeternitatis. In this Part, I want to show why the Idealists are nonetheless wrong to

characterize Spinoza’s metaphysics as a species of acosmism – that is, as a philosophical system that

recognizes the existence of only one entity, the infinite and undifferentiated substance. I will argue

that although we must, as we saw in Part II, reject the now prevalent finitist-pluralist interpretations

of Spinoza’s metaphysics, we nonetheless must see Spinoza as committed to an ontological pluralism,

that is, as a thinker who posits the existence of more than one entity (although only one basic or

non-derivative entity). More precisely, I will argue that Spinoza is committed to an infinitist-pluralist

metaphysics, that is, as a thinker who maintains that in metaphysical rigor only infinite things –

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namely, substance and infinite modes – exist, and exist necessarily. In other words, my claim will be

that the solution to the controversy over Spinoza’s acosmism proves to hinge on the distinction

between infinite and finite modes, a distinction usually neglected by participants in this debate.

In this Part I will focus then on showing why we must see Spinoza as committed to the claim

that substance necessarily causes other infinite res, and thus that its causality is not simply the

causality of a causa sui. In particular, I want show that Spinoza’s commitment to the necessity of

substance’s self-differentiation can be inferred already from his opening definitions.

§9. The definition of substance

so long as we are dealing with the Investigation of things…the best conclusion will have to be drawn from…a true and legitimate definition…So the right way of discovery is to form thoughts from some given definition.

– Spinoza, TdIE §93-4

The fundamental Idealist charge, we can recall, was that Spinoza fails to justify the various

layers of his ontology. As we saw in Part II, this charge proved unjustified when it came to finite

things in Spinoza’s metaphysics: this is because Spinoza never means to claim that there are finite

things, and so has no need to justify this rung of his metaphysical ladder, as it is non-existent. What

I want to show in the present section is that the charge is similarly unjustified – although for

radically different reasons – when it comes to infinite modes. As we shall now see, it is already

Spinoza’s official definition of substance, and thus the essential nature of substance itself, that

establishes the necessity of the existence of at least one other entity – namely, of an infinite mode

of thought – in Spinoza’s metaphysics, on the condition that substance itself can be shown to exist.

As we saw in Chapter 2, for Spinoza, a true “definition” of a thing must state its essence. This

is a claim that, as I noted earlier, Spinoza makes again and again in his writings. To recall, Spinoza

defines “substance” as “what is in itself and is conceived through itself [in se est et per se concipitur]”

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(1def3).256 In contrast, a “mode” is “that which is in another through which it is also conceived [in

alio est, per quod etiam concipitur]” (1def5). These two definitions identify, in short, two kinds of entities

that are opposed not only as to their being or “formal” reality, but also as to their “objective” reality,

or the way they have to be represented or conceived of. But what I want to draw our attention to

now is that this superficial outright opposition at the level of definitions does not translate into any

ontological separability or independence of the entities so defined. As noted, both substance and

mode are defined inter alia in terms of the manner of their conception: being conceived (although in

different ways) is of the essence, not just of modes, but of substance as well. But when Spinoza

defines substance as what is “conceived”,257 he establishes thereby the necessity of an idea of

substance, if there is a substance. And since like any “idea”, the idea of substance will be a mode, it

is the very definition of substance that allows us to establish the necessity of at least one mode in Spinoza’s system,258

and thus decisively in my view confutes acosmic interpretations of his metaphysics.259

We can, in fact, be more specific as to what kind of mode this idea will be: since the only

truly possible substance turns out to be an “absolutely infinite” substance, an idea of this substance

will represent everything that is, and will not be limited by other ideas. Thus, by Spinoza’s definition

of finitude (1def2), it will be infinite.260

256 Note that “is conceived” translates a present passive indicative. The definition continues: “i.e., that whose concept does not require the concept of another thing,

from which it must be formed”. We shall return to this second half of the definition at the end of the Chapter.

257 Since according to Spinoza there can be only one substance, if substance is conceived, it is self-conceiving and self-conceived.

258 (*) Cf. “I call the Affections of Substance Modes. Their definition, insofar as it is not the very definition of Substance, cannot involve any existence.” (Ep. 12; IV/54; my ital.)

259 One might object here that the definition of substance asserts not that substance is necessarily actually conceived but merely that it is conceivable or intelligible, such that should there ever be an intellect alongside substance, it could form an idea of substance, but it doesn’t mean that an actual idea of substance must be eternally given if there is substance. This weaker gloss of the definition must be rejected, however, for the same reason that the “intelligibility” formulation of the PSR must be rejected, as I argued above: given Spinoza’s rejection of unactualized possibles, if there can be an idea of something, if things can be understood – that is, if they are intelligible – then they must also be actually understood: their ideas must eternally exist.

260 I do not have the space to engage in a full-blown discussion here of infinite modes, but more

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In other words, it is a consequence of Spinoza’s conception of the essential nature of

substance as “conceived” that, if there exists substance, there also must exist at least one infinite

mode of thought.261 The reason for the existence of this mode eternally coexists with the reason for

divine existence itself, such that it is not possible for the one to exist without the other: the essential

nature of substance entails not only its own existence, but also the existence of an infinite mode of

thought.262 Since Spinoza takes himself to demonstrate the necessary existence of substance in

1p7,263 this proposition should therefore be regarded as implicitly also his demonstration of the

necessary existence of at least this one infinite mode of thought.264 Hence, contrary to the charges

made by critics like Hegel, for Spinoza the necessity of at least one infinite mode demonstrably

follows from the nature (essence, definition) of substance.265 The Idealist readings of Spinoza’s

precisely still, presumably this infinite mode of thought will be what has come to be known as the infinite immediate mode of thought, which Spinoza sometimes refers to as the idea of God and sometimes as the infinite intellect, and which represents the totality of the eternal essences of all things implicit in God's nature under a particular attribute. The mediate infinite mode under Thought is the (indistinct) totality of all existing finite modes.

261 Note that the other half of the definition of substance, namely its property of “being in itself”, does not have the same implications as Spinoza’s assertion that substance is conceived in itself (whether or not we interpret substance’s “being in itself” more broadly as a matter of general ontological dependence or more specifically as causal inherence). (However, if we take Della Rocca’s route of construing “being in” as the same as “being conceived through itself”, on this interpretation also this half of the definition of substance also generates the necessity of a mode of thought.)

One may wonder here also if Spinoza’s definition of causa sui allows us to establish (if there is a causa sui in Nature) the necessity of a mode in similar fashion, since causa sui also references conception. The answer also seems to be no: this is because this definition does not assert that it is part of the nature of causa sui to actually be conceived, it merely specifies how such a cause would be conceived (as existing) were it to be conceived. So for the argument from causa sui to necessity of a mode we would have to add the further premise that PSR holds.

262 To come back to an issue unresolved in §2, arguably we can see Spinoza’s choice to define substance in this manner as his reformulation of the Neoplatonic idea that there is a multiplicity of things because Being must “overflow” from the first principle: Spinoza can be seen as pinning this “overflowing” to the necessity of substance being represented in thought; the “completeness” or “perfection” of the first cause which, on the Neoplatonic model, necessitates this “overflowing”, could be seen as being echoed by Spinoza’s description of substance as a self-sufficient and self-dependent being.

263 I do not want to suggest here that Spinoza’s proof of the necessary existence of substance is itself unproblematic. But it is beyond the scope of this chapter.

264 Thus contrary to what some scholars assert, 1p16 is not the first proposition in the Ethics to introduce modes as entities that are actually produced by God.

265 From a Hegelian point of view the definition of substance could be viewed as showing the same kind of necessitation of an other thing, overcoming the fundamental opposition between substance and mode

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philosophy – perhaps in part owing to their lopsided focus on finite modes – overlook how closely

the existence of modes is tied for Spinoza to the essential nature of substance: in his eyes, no

substance can exist unless there is also this particular mode, the idea of substance. Hegel

complained that for Spinoza’s substance to escape its moribund state it must necessitate things other

than itself, such that it cannot be what it is without modes. And this seems to be precisely what we

the definition of substance does.266

Acosmic readings of Spinoza’s metaphysics, understood as readings based on the claim that

according to Spinoza there is nothing but the one, undifferentiated and infinite substance, thus

prove to be untenable. This is not the road commentators usually take when trying to defeat such

readings – typically, as noted earlier (§3), commentators point to 1p16 as the proposition that

establishes the necessity of modes, especially of finite modes. In that section, and also later in §6, we

repeatedly witnessed the failure of this proposition to deliver a categorical rebuttal of acosmism, and

its failure to ground the necessity of any kinds of modes. I do not wish to claim that the above

account, which focuses on Spinoza’s definition of substance, is the only possible way to begin

establishing the necessity of things ‘other’ than substance in Spinoza’s system. (To mention one

possible route, if we could show the validity of the PSR alongside the existence of substance, this

would also necessitate the existence of the idea of substance, and thus of an infinite mode of

thought; however, I will not explore this kind of reading here.) But it seems to me to be one

possible, and heretofore overlooked, way.

Our ability to establish the necessity of at least one infinite mode in Spinoza’s framework

allows us to add to our account of finite things. For we can now infer that in Spinoza’s eyes finite

modes of thought can be said to be, sub specie aeternitatis, only insofar as they constitute indistinct, that Hegel located in Spinoza’s definition of causa sui (see note 230).

266 This may appear inconsistent with the definition of substance as what is conceived through itself. We will come back to this question to see why the definition is in fact coherent even on the proposed reading of its implications.

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or indefinable, components of an indivisible, further indeterminable, infinite totality – of the mediate

infinite mode of thought, or idea of substance, just established: no finite segment can be singled our

or carved out of the infinite mode by veridical thought. In metaphysical rigor it is only as indistinct,

in isolation ungraspable, elements of such an infinite whole that finite thoughts can be said to “fall

under the infinite intellect” and to “follow” from God’s essence. This precludes any interpretation

of the mediate infinite mode according to which it would be understood as a collection of discrete

finite entities, or the result of such a collection. Instead, the infinite mediate mode must be

understood as a whole that is indivisible and indeterminable through negation. Our experience of

discrete and finite causal events in duration represents for Spinoza merely an “abstract”, inadequate

kind of comprehension of what is: when in 2p8s he compares “singular things” to rectangles

implicit within a circle, he writes that these singular things become “distinguished” from one another

and from the infinite totality that contains them only when they come to exist in “duration”, which

(by 2p45s) is precisely existence conceived merely “abstractly”. Finite causal transformation are

grasped more adequately when they are understood in reference to an infinite totality, as

“variations”, as Spinoza puts it (2L7s; II/102), that transform the entire “face” of the infinite

mediate mode.267 But a fully adequate view of finite things (if it can still be called a view of finite

things) would be a view solely of the infinite consequences of substance, sub specie aeternitatis,

untainted by any durational component of change: a grasp of what eternally is the case. As Spinoza

writes in one of his letters, while “certain things” – substance or attributes – “cannot in any way be

conceived as finite”, “other things”, “infinite by virtue of the[ir] cause”– i.e., the infinite modes –

“conceived in abstraction, they can be divided into parts and be regarded as finite” (Ep. 12; IV/60; my ital).268

267 (*) Cf. Ep. 32. 268 Recall that Ep. 12 asserted that it is possible to have an adequate conception of modes tout court,

not of finite modes.

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To return to the topic, broached earlier, of Spinozistic doctrines usually interpreted as

pertaining primarily, or even exclusively, to finite things, we can now say that if our minds are indeed

“eternal” this eternity is not something we can possess as discrete finite individuals, but only insofar

as our minds are indiscernibly contained in the eternal idea of substance.269 (Hence perhaps tellingly

the subtitle of the Fifth Part of the Ethics identifies “human freedom” with the “power of the

intellect [intellectus]”, not with the power of the (finite) “mind”.) Similarly, sub specie aeternitatis

finite thoughts can be said to “strive” only qua indistinct components of this infinite totality.

Finally, when Spinoza refers to “finite things”, “natures” and “forms”, he must be understood to be

referring either to an empirically known ‘nature’ in a looser sense, or to the essence and nature of the

infinite mode of which the finite thing is an indistinct part.

§10. On a possible inconsistency of Spinoza’s definition of substance

Our recognition of the implications of Spinoza’s definition of substance may appear to

assuage some of the Idealist worries about the absence of justification for the various layers of

Spinoza’s ontology. At the same time however, it appears to create a brand new worry, one that

seems to shake the foundations of Spinoza’s entire system by rendering Spinoza’s definition of

substance incoherent. In this short section, I want to briefly describe, and then quell, this worry.

The fear is this: if it indeed belongs to the essence of substance to necessitate an infinite

mode of thought, as I argued in the previous section, this seems to contradict the definition of

substance as a being conceived “through itself”, and hence one “whose concept does not require the

concept of another thing [cujus conceptus non indiget conceptu alterius rei]”. (Descartes, we can note,

observed that “all philosophers” “agreed on this point”: substance must be understood “apart from”

269 Moreover, as already noted, we are parts of this infinite idea only insofar as our ideas are true and

affirmative. Della Rocca’s view is similarly that that our minds can be eternal only to the degree that they have adequate ideas, but Della Rocca holds onto finite individuality in eternity (cf. his Spinoza, ch. 7).

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a mode, such that to have the conception of substance we do not need to have “at the same time” a

“conception” of something else [Comments on a Certain Broadsheet, AT VIIIB 350].) In fact Spinoza

seems at the same time to obey and to buck tradition here: overtly, his definition of substance paints

substance as self-conceived and self-dependent; however, as we just saw, implicitly this definition

also makes substance into something that seems to require a mode to be what it essentially is. By

Spinoza’s definition of essence (2def2), the idea of substance appears to count as part of the

“essence” of substance, since substance seems incapable of either being or being conceived as

“substance” without this idea, and, conversely, the idea – like any mode – can neither be nor be

conceived without substance.270 If it is part of the essence of substance to be “conceived” in a

certain way (and not just conceivable), then, paradoxically, it appears to belong to the essence of

substance that there be this particular mode of thought. In this way, Spinoza’s definition of

substance seems to make of substance a thing which, contrary to its own definition, essentially

“require[s] the concept of another thing”. But if the definition of substance is really inconsistent in

this way, it cannot be a genuine “definition” – it cannot capture the “essence” of a substance (or, for

that matter, the essence of any thing). What produces this ostensible paradox is Spinoza’s conviction

that substance must be conceived, and his simultaneous insistence – against centuries of theological

tradition – that no intellect can pertain to the divine substance qua substance (1p31). It is this

demand that it be of the essential nature of this intellect-less substance to be nonetheless conceived

that ushers in a necessary world of modes, and simultaneously appears to undo the consistency of

the notion of substance.

270 The alternative characterization of essence in the first half of the definition – “to the essence of

any thing belongs that which, being given, the thing is [NS: also] necessarily posited and which, being taken away, the thing is necessarily [NS: also] taken away” (2def2) also appears to establish a biconditional between substance and its idea: if there is this mode (or any mode), there must be also a substance; for there to be substance (as what is essentially “conceived”) there must be this idea.

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A Hegelian would presumably happily interpret such inconsistency as the necessary undoing

of the very idea of a thing is entirely self-sufficient, making no reference to what is essentially ‘other’

than it. 271 But I want to suggest that the consistency of this definition is in fact preserved on the

condition of a more careful interpretation of what it means to conceive substance “through itself” or

through the concept of some other thing. For the charge of inconsistency follows from a

misreading of this criterion of substantiality. The definition specifies that to be conceived “through

itself” means that the concept substance does not “require the concept of another thing, from which it

must be formed [a quo formari debeat]” (my ital). That is, to be “conceived through” another thing is a

more specific and robust criterion than the mere inseparability of the concept of another thing – of a

mode – from the concept of substance, or the mere necessity of the existence of this mode for the

existence of a substance. Spinoza’s claim seems to be that for something to count as “conceived

through” another thing, the idea of the first thing would have to have been derived from – “formed

from” – the idea of the second thing. And the concept of substance cannot be said to have been

“formed from” the concept of the infinite mode of thought. On the contrary, the existence and

necessity of this mode are a consequence of the nature of substance, of the fact that substance is

271 One could perhaps object to the charge of inconsistency by arguing that in Spinoza’s immanentist

framework modes are not really an “other” thing in relation to substance, hence in requiring a concept of mode to conceive of substance we do not in fact require the concept of “another” thing, which allows the definition of substance to remain consistent. However, it seems clear that Spinoza treats modes as in the relevant sense other than substance. For example, he explicitly describes substance as “prior in nature” to modes (1p1). More importantly, if modes were not “other” than substance in the relevant sense then we could conceive of substance through modes, but this direction of reasoning is rejected by Spinoza in 1p5d, where he notoriously puts modes “to one side” to consider substance properly, i.e. as required by its definition and essential nature, “through itself”. One could perhaps try to argue that in 1p5d Spinoza’s point is solely that we cannot use modes to individuate substance, which is the topic under consideration in 1p5, but note that the immediate context of the sentence is what does it mean to consider substance “truly”. More generally, it’s not clear that we can simply divorce the question of how to individuate Spinoza’s substance from how to conceive of it as it is in its essential nature, given that there is no more general concept of some essence that this substance merely instantiates.

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essentially conceived; it is this aspect of the nature of substance that necessitates the existence of an

idea, and explains why it is what it is (why it is an idea of substance).272

Another way to put my suggestion is that we must distinguish between the manner of conception

(conception “through itself”), which belongs to the substance essentially, and the mode (idea of

substance) as the effect of this essential feature of substance. It is indeed true that substance is

inseparable from the idea of this mode of thought, but only in the sense in which a proprium – a

necessary property following from the essence of a thing – is inseparable from this essence, and

necessarily follows from it, without thereby constituting this essence, and without ceasing to be

distinguishable from it.273

This more careful articulation of the precise way in which the idea of substance is necessary

saves Spinoza’s definition of substance from a paradoxical fate. And from this improved vantage

point we can also reformulate more precisely the conclusions of §9: the first thing that rules out

acosmic interpretations of Spinoza’s metaphysics is the fact that for Spinoza the essential nature of

substance entails the necessary existence of an infinite mode of thought, which follows necessarily

from the essence of substance as its proprium.

§11. Substance as res cogitans

The inseparability of notion from being is the main point and fundamental hypothesis in [Spinoza’s] system.

– Hegel, EL, §76 n1

In §9 I argued that the notion of a ‘bare’, in the sense of mode-less, substance, is precluded

by the very definition of substance for Spinoza. What I want to show in the present section is that

272 Similarly, from the perspective of Spinoza’s Aristotelian premise that to know something is to know its cause (1ax4), which can rephrased as the claim that the (true) concept of a thing is formed from the concept of its cause, the concept of substance is not formed from another thing, since the cause of substance is substance itself. (Conversely, in this sense a mode is precisely what is conceived through another thing, since its cause is substance.)

273 (*) On the need not to confuse propria and essence see e.g. TdIE §95 (I/34).

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the situation is analogous when it comes to the relation between “substance” and the attribute of

Thought: given Spinoza’s definitions of mode and substance, there cannot be a substance that is not a

thinking substance, just as there cannot be substance that is not affected with an infinite mode of

thought.

As we just saw in §9, it follows from Spinoza’s definition of substance, and so from the

essential nature of substance, that there is an idea of this substance. Now consider what it means to

be a “mode” in the metaphysical tradition of which Spinoza is part, and which is reaffirmed in his

own definition of a “mode”.274 To be a mode is to be an ontologically and conceptually dependent

entity. Hence if the definition of substance necessitates the existence of an idea, this idea, as a mere

mode, cannot by definition exist as a self-sufficient entity – it cannot, that is, as if ‘float’

independently of a substance. Hence, by dint of being a mode of thought, the idea of substance

must ultimately inhere in a substance that thinks, a substance of a thinking nature – in short, in a

substance endowed with what Spinoza calls an “attribute” of Thought.275 In other words, because

substance is defined as something “conceived”, then (i) this definition necessitates there being at

least one mode, namely the conception of substance, if there is substance and so (ii) since the

substance itself is the only thing there is to be ‘modified’, then the mode (the idea of substance) is

not only (a) a conception whose target or object is the substance, but it must itself be (b) a

274 (*) Cf. Descartes Pr I 56, 57. Cf. Categories Ia16ff for Aristotle’s description of accident as what

exists in a subject. 275 That for Spinoza the notions of “idea” and “thought” are synonymous is clear e.g. from 2p7s. Since for Spinoza there can be only one substance, the idea of substance will inhere in the

same substance of which it is an idea. We could also reach the conclusion that the definition of substance establishes the necessity of this

substance being a “thinking thing” in the following way. Earlier I said that the idea of substance posited by the definition of substance should be seen as following from the nature – from the definition – of substance, as an immediate infinite mode of thought. More precisely I should have said that this idea – precisely because it is an idea – follows not simply from the nature of substance but rather from the nature of substance under the attribute of Thought, that is, it follows from the nature or essence of substance qua thinking thing. For, according to Spinoza strictly speaking an idea cannot follow from the nature of “substance” tout court: a substance can be a cause of a mode only under a specific attribute (2p6; II/89). This kind of argument assumes of course Spinoza’s causal barrier between the attributes.

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conceiving done by the substance. I.e., the idea of substance is (a) intentionally directed toward

substance (has substance as its object), and also (b) is had by substance as the conceiving ‘subject’.

Substance qua conceiving ‘subject’ is precisely thinking substance, or, in Spinoza’s terminology,

substance with the “attribute” of Thought.

In short, the necessity of the attribute of Thought proves to be inextricable from the

necessity of substance itself, just as the necessity of modes showed itself to be inextricable in §9.276

(As we saw in Chapter 2, Spinoza conceives of the nature of “thinking” in play here as an inference

of necessary properties from the essences of things.) This inextricability of thought from substance

goes some way to explaining why thought – in one sense nothing more than one among an infinity

of attributes – turns out to play such an outsized role in Spinoza’s metaphysics, why for example

Spinoza says that the substance’s “power” to think parallels its entire power to “act”, i.e. its power to

bring things formally into existence (2p7c). To see the argument that leads to the inextricability of

thought from substance, outlined above, as valid, we must of course accept Spinoza’s basic

ontology, his division of possible entities into modes and substances. This, to be sure, is a

significant and not self-evident commitment, even if one enshrined by the philosophical tradition. A

substance-mode ontology in its most basic version – simply as a distinction between things that

causally and conceptually depend on other things and those that don’t – is arguably at least

plausible.277 But this pared-down version of the substance-mode ontology will not produce the

requisite conclusion that substance must be a thinking thing by virtue of there being an idea of

substance. To draw this conclusion what we need to admit is not just the arguably uncontroversial

276 (*) Cf. also Spinoza’s proof of Descartes’s proposition (which Descartes himself does not prove in

the Principles) that “There is not more than one God”: “Conceive, if possible, that there is more than one God, e.g., A and B. Then both A and Be must, in the highest degree, understand [i.e. it must understand “all things”, by PCP 1p9]…” (PCP 1p11d; I/169; my ital.).

For Spinoza’s reference to the tradition according to which God is intrinsically a thinking God cf. 2p3s (II/87).

277 One may of course balk also at Spinoza’s incorporation of self-causation into his definition of substance, and at his claim that the conceptual and causal dependencies run in tandem.

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division of possible entities into those that are dependent and those that aren’t, but also the much

more controversial claim that a particular idea could not exist without an independent entity of that

same kind – that is, exist either on its own (here the Scholastic notion of “real quality” comes to

mind as an alternative proposal) or exist by inhering in an entity of a different kind (as a feature of

an extended thing, for example). These two possibilities are ruled out by Spinoza’s insistence that a

mode by definition is “that which is in another through which it is also conceived” (1def5), where

the plausible although again not uncontroversial assumption (one shared, for example, by

Descartes278) is that a thing of a completely different kind, having nothing in common, such as a

body, will not allow us to conceive of, or explain, an idea.

Similarly, one could object to the proposed argument by contending that even if we concede

that the idea of substance qua “mode” must, by Spinoza’s definition of a mode, inhere in a

substance of the relevant kind, thus a substance that can be veridically described as a thinking

substance, I was too quick to jump to the conclusion that this idea must inhere in a substance that

has the attribute of Thought specifically, insofar as this is a much more specific claim in at least two

ways. First of all, it means that this substance will be a thinking thing by virtue of its essence. But

this, once again, follows from the definition of substance: for if a substance in which (by Spinoza’s

definition of a mode) a mode must inhere is to be a thinking substance, this quality or nature must

pertain to this substance in a way that does not render it dependent on anything else, that is, it must

pertain to it by virtue of its own nature. So the substance must be an essentially thinking substance.279

Secondly, it is also part of Spinoza’s definition of an “attribute” that an attribute is a nature

perceived by an intellect (1def4). So to contend, as I have done above, that an idea of substance

must inhere in a substance with the “attribute” of Thought means not only that this idea must

278 This same assumption is the basis of Descartes’s real distinction argument for substance dualism in the Meditations.

279 Of course we can also object to the very idea of an “essence”. I will not defend Spinoza’s essentialism here.

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inhere in an essentially thinking substance (a conclusion justified by Spinoza’s definition of substance

as what is not dependent in any way) but also that this idea must inhere in a thinking substance

whose thinking nature is grasped by an intellect. A justification of this claim, however, is also found

in Spinoza’s definition of substance. For given that, by the definition of substance, there exists an

idea of substance if there is substance,280 whatever nature this substance will have (for example, the

nature of a res cogitans), this nature will be part of the content grasped by the idea of this substance

(assuming that 1) there is no possible cause of falsity in relation to substance’s ideas, given that there

can be only one substance and 2) the only possible object of substance’s own thought is substance

itself – i.e. that there are no purely imaginary objects of thought).

All roads, it seems then, lead back to Spinoza’s definitions, and in particular to his definitions

of substance and mode. I will return to the question of how Spinoza justifies the basic ontological

assumptions that these definitions express in the next Part of the Chapter in more detail. My point

now is solely that we must recognize that it is already Spinoza’s definitions of substance and mode that

commit him to the necessity of the existence both of an infinite mode of thought, and of the

attribute of thought.281 (To recall, we looked in vain for Spinoza’s proof of the necessity of the

attribute of thought earlier in §2). One consequence of this is that we must recognize that by

Spinoza’s definitions, a “substance” will by definition, qua substance, be a thinking thing. That is, an

unthinking substance is not a genuinely possible entity for Spinoza, once we grant his basic

definitions. To be clear, this does not mean that substance cannot also be other kinds of “thing” –

for example, an extended thing. But whatever else substance turns out to be, for Spinoza it must,

minimally, be a thinking thing. And it is only this one attribute, the attribute of Thought, that

280 More precisely, given the definition of mode as what is essentially dependent, there is an idea of

substance iff there is substance. 281 As I will note in the concluding section of the Chapter, both of these ontological commitments

could also be explained – arguably, more elegantly – as following from Spinoza’s adoption of the PSR. For a reading of Spinoza that traces all his commitments to the PSR cf. Della Rocca, Spinoza.

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proves inseparable from every conceivable “substance”: only in the case of attribute of Thought

does the inseparability of the attribute follows from the very notion, or the essential nature, of

substance.282 This inseparability of thought from substance is a further departure on Spinoza’s part

from the Cartesian notion of “substance”: it is not just that there cannot be a multiplicity of

substances, or a finite substance, but there also cannot be a non-thinking substance, by the definition

of substance (and not only because, given Spinoza’s commitment to substance-acosmism, the only

genuinely possible substance must instantiate all possible attributes, i.e. must be God, or the

“absolutely infinite” substance). Furthermore, given that for Spinoza everything that is, is either

substance itself or a property of this substance, for Spinoza there can be no thing – no res – that

does not also participate in some way in thinking.

This notion of substance as essentially a res cogitans has far-reaching consequences for our

ability to justify the necessity of other parts of Spinoza’s system. First of all, we can derive from it

Spinoza’s thesis of the universal intelligibility (or, more accurately, universal conceivedness), a thesis

which emerges in his commitment to the PSR; in his construal of “reality” as inherently conceived (a

claim encountered in our discussion of 1p16 in §3) and in his notorious reference to the “intellect”

in the definition of an attribute.283 (Indeed, it is this universal intelligibility that also justifies the

heterodox claim that we can give a definition of God himself.) From the point of view of the

282 Someone could object to this conclusion on the grounds that Spinoza also holds that substance

necessarily has every conceivable attribute, given that there is no possible reason for an attribute not to be instantiated (given both substance monism and the prohibition on inter-attribute causality); thus substance will necessarily also be Extended. However, given only Spinoza’s definitions, it is possible to conceive of a Nature in which Extension (or any other attribute not identical to Thought) is not possible, and therefore even an “absolutely infinite” substance (i.e. one that has all possible attributes), will not be extended. It is only the attribute of thought that is inseparable from every substance.

I return to the question of the justification of the necessity of Extension in the next section. 283 This essential reference to intellect of course in no way means that the attributes are merely

subjective inventions imposed onto substance, not reflecting its true nature. For such subjectivist readings of attributes, according to which Spinoza’s references to the thought of substance – to the “perception”, “expression”, “explanation” and “conception” of its essence – all indicate merely subjective thought, cf. Wolfson (Spinoza, 146, 152). For a similarly subjectivist reading of the attributes cf. e.g. Erdmann, Grundriss der Gcschichte der Philosophie, II, §272.6.

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Idealist interrogations of Spinoza’s system, the question this kind of commitment to universal

“intelligibility” inescapably raises is, why must all things be conceived? Gueroult, for one, treats this

universal “intelligibility” as a basic “article of faith” for Spinoza.284 But we do not have to follow

him into conceding to the Idealists the presence of this kind of fundamental dogmatism at the basis

of Spinoza’s thought. For once we grant the assumptions that thought will necessarily be thought

of what is; that in Spinoza’s modally flat universe all possible ideas will be thought; and that there is

no possible cause of falsity in relation to the only genuinely possible substance, if substance is by

definition a thinking thing it follows that this substance will necessarily form an idea of what is.

Hence what is will also necessarily be conceived. On this account the PSR is itself a consequence of

the definition of substance. (We should recall here the point noted earlier that according to Spinoza

substance is the reason or cause of all essences [1p25].) This, in my view, is one of the most

promising ways to justify Spinoza’s adoption of the PSR.285

Indeed, the fact that for Spinoza substance is essentially a res cogitans explains not just the

necessity of all “reality” and all “essences” being conceived in the manner just outlined, and not just

the necessity of the attribute of Thought in particular, as I argued at the outset of this section, but

the necessity of “attributes” in general becoming a part of Spinoza’s ontology in the first place.286

(This, to recall, was one of the worries raised by the Idealists.)287 An attribute by definition is just

284 (*) See Gueroult, Spinoza I 12 (to be clear this is not in the context of discussing Idealist readings

of Spinoza’s thought). Cf. also Matheron’s labeling of this intelligibility a “leitmotiv” of Spinoza’s philosophy (Individu et

communauté chez Spinoza, 9-10). 285 In the conclusion of the Chapter I will raise the question whether it is in fact the PSR that should

instead be considered to be a more basic commitment on Spinoza’s part since an appeal to the PSR provides a powerful explanatory alternative for many of the claims being discussed here.

286 Pace Macherey’s claim that the attributes are “inessential” to substance, a merely “phenomenal” “image” that “qualifies substance from the outside and without necessity” (Spinoza ou Hegel, 32-37; my transl.).

287 In Descartes’s writings, the dominant line of thought about the necessity of attributes is epistemological, and underpinned by the “natural light” of reason: the very idea we have of “substance” is of a thing that manifests some manner of being, or is apprehended through some attribute. The idea of nothing, in contrast, is of what has no attributes. Cf. e.g. Second Repl. (AT VII 161); Pr II 9. (Cf. Spinoza, CM 1.3 (I/240).)

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the essential nature of substance, perceived by the intellect; for an attribute to be necessary to

substance means that it must be grasped by an intellect as having a certain essential nature. But we

can now see that Spinoza’s substance by definition must have “attributes” because 1) the

independence explicitly guaranteed by the definition of substance assures that whatever nature

substance has will pertain to it by virtue of its own essence; 2) substance’s essentially thinking nature,

implicit in its definition, guarantees that whatever nature this substance has, this nature will be

conceived (again assuming that all substantial ideas must be true ideas of what is, and that all

possible ideas are realized).

Finally, we should note that Spinoza’s conception of substance as an essentially thinking

thing throws more light also on the question of the necessity of modes in his metaphysics. This is

because it allows us to establish the necessity not just of the one infinite mode of thought, as we did

in §9, but of an infinite series of such modes (again on the condition that there cannot be a purely

imaginary object of thought and hence that substance’s thought will have as its object what is – i.e.

substance itself and whatever modes it may have.) For granting this, we can conclude that if

substance is essentially a “thinking thing”, it will necessarily have an idea not just of its own essence

but also of whatever properties it may have. This means that it will have an idea of its idea of itself,

and an idea of that idea, and so on, to infinity. Thus over and above the one infinite mode of

thought whose necessity we were able to infer directly from Spinoza’s definition of substance,

further reflection on the implications of this definition allows us to establish also the necessity of an

infinite series of such infinite modes, whose existence Spinoza asserts e.g. in 2p43s.288

288 If we also grant Spinoza that every substance must be a substance of infinite attributes (a thesis to

whose justification we will return), and also that the modes under these attributes all represent the same “individuals” (2p7s), in establishing this infinite series of modes of thought Spinoza also de facto establishes the necessity of an infinite series of infinite modes under all the attributes – that is, the necessity of infinite modes under other attributes that would be “one and the same thing” as the infinite modes of thought. But this further conclusion about the implications of Spinoza’s definition of substance for the necessity of modes require us to assume the validity of a number of additional parts of Spinoza’s metaphysical machinery, and I

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As we can see then, the consequences of Spinoza’s conception of “substance” as essentially

a res cogitans – conception implicit, or so I’ve argued, in his definition of substance as “conceived

through itself” – radiate far into his system, underpinning both the various elements of his ontology

and his fundamental explanatory commitments, allowing us to deduce the necessity of other basic

building blocks of Spinoza’s system.

§12. The continuing mystery of the remaining attributes

In the previous section I have tried to show that Spinoza’s conception of the essential nature

of substance as a thinking thing explains the basic reasoning behind the necessity of “attributes” in

Spinoza’s metaphysics. However, we are still some distance away from having deduced Spinoza’s

whole doctrine of the attributes. For this doctrine includes not just the claim that substance must

have an “attribute”, but also the claim that (the only possible) substance, or God, must have

“infinite” attributes (1def6).289 We can put the problem as follows: if we grant Spinoza that there is

no possible cause of falsity in relation to substance, we can easily see why the essentially thinking

substance would conceive of itself as a “thinking thing”. But why should this substance not

conceive of itself solely as thinking? Why must it appear to itself in “infinite” ways?

In fact, this ostensibly extravagant thesis of “infinite” attributes is easily justifiable. For it is

evident from Spinoza’s explicatio of his definition of God that by an “infinity” of attributes he means

simply “all possible” attributes, or “whatever” attributes are possible. Thus when Spinoza declares

that substance has an “infinity” of attributes, this means that this substance thinks itself in “all

possible” ways, that is, in terms of “whatever” irreducible or ‘primitive’ ideas this substance – an

inherently thinking thing – can have.

cannot undertake their defense in the limited space of this Chapter.

289 If we recall our earlier discussion that God’s infinite “reality” as a thinking thing means that God has an infinite object for divine thought, the number of possible of objects for God’s thought is also increased by the fact that God has infinite attributes under which to regard himself and any mode.

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Having “all possible” attributes is of course in principle compatible with having in fact only

one attribute – that of Thought. But as is well-known Spinoza does not stop at the claim that

Thought exhausts the entirety of possible kinds of being. For his doctrine of the attributes also

includes the specific thesis that substance is a res extensa (2p2). So, although as we saw in the

previous section, we can begin to reconstitute Spinoza’s derivation of the necessity of modes and

attributes by unraveling the implications of his fundamental definitions, to refute fully the Idealist

charge that Spinoza fails to justify the various elements of his ontology, we must show why

substance must have the attribute of Extension in particular.

Unfortunately, it’s not clear that this question finds a fully satisfactory answer in Spinoza’s

system. As already noted in §2, it seems unsatisfactory to claim simply that since Extension, and

indeed infinite extension, are conceivable or possible, Extension must be instantiated by substance,

both on the account of the uniqueness of substance and Spinoza’s prohibition on inter-attribute

causality. For what we need is an explanation of the necessity of this possibility. Likewise, we of

course know from our experience of a world of bodies that Extension is actual, and thus, given

Spinoza’s views on modality, can infer its necessity. But in addition to these kinds of argument

from effects, can Spinoza offer an a priori argument for the necessity of Extension as a kind of

being?290 Is there something about the nature of substance that requires it to be Extended, just as

the very nature of substance, qua substance, necessitates the existence of the attribute of Thought

as we saw in the previous section? There I argued that the attribute of Thought is for Spinoza

inseparable from substance as substance. But this does not seem to be the case for Extension, for it

seems that we can very well conceive of a substance, even an “absolutely infinite” substance, that is

not Extended – a substance with “all possible” attributes, which do not however include Extension.

290 KV 1.2nf; I/24 may arguably be read as claiming that extension can be proved only a posteriori, but I think this reading goes against what is asserted earlier in the same passage, namely that both extension and thought can be proved a priori. The passage seems to assert rather that only extension can also be proved a posteriori (a view that Spinoza rescinds in the Ethics, cf. 2p1).

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There is nothing incoherent about such a scenario, whereas for Spinoza it is as we have seen a

contradiction to posit a non-thinking substance.

And so the question remains: why must an essentially thinking substance conceive of itself

specifically as a res extensa? We can indeed formulate this problem at a more general level, as a

question of justification of any other attribute: we saw in §7 that, according to Spinoza, the relation

of the attributes to each other is a non-limiting relation of mere ‘difference’. To ask about the

necessity of any other kind of attribute in addition to Thought is to ask for the reason why

substance must apprehend itself not only as Thinking but also as a being essentially ‘different’ from

a “thinking” thing. To the extent that we cannot answer this question, we might have to concede to

Spinoza’s Idealist critics that on this point Spinoza fail to justify his ontology adequately.

Alternatively, we can say that Spinoza appears entitled to assert the existence of a Thinking thing

alone, and thus that he himself must be counted as an Idealist in this sense.

It is possible to object here that the very request for an explanation of the necessity of a

substantial res extensa is misguided insofar as in Spinoza’s system there can be no explanation

reaching further back in the causal chain, so to speak, than substantial self-causation and self-

explanation under the various attributes. That is, one could object to the search for an explanation of

the necessity of Extension by pointing out that Extension simply constitutes one way the essence of

substance is and is conceived, and this essence is, by Spinoza’s definition of substance, in some

sense291 self-explanatory and self-causing. Spinoza’s claim is not that substance is conceived in itself,

but arguably it is only once substance has a definite sort of essential nature – only once we have a

determinate fundamental concept through which we can explain substance (e.g. the concept of

Extension or the concept of Thought) – that the self-explanation postulated in the definition of

291 It is possible to read the conception-clause of the definition of substance weakly, as merely the

negative assertion that substance does not require the concept of anything else to be conceived, or more robustly, as the claim that substance actually is also self-explanatory in some positive sense.

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substance becomes genuinely possible.

This proposal seems to be on the right track, although its downside is that it leaves

completely indeterminate how precisely Extended substance is supposed to furnish its own

explanation, or what content this self-explanation possesses, even if we can acknowledge that

Spinoza seems committed to the claim that indeed such a substance would indeed be self-

explanatory.

It has been claimed that Spinoza conceives of all explanation of as explanation-as , and that

for this reason he is committed to the necessity of more than one attribute, for it is only if there is

more than one attribute that a distinction can even be made between substance and attribute, as it

must be if all explanation of an entity is indeed explanation of this entity as something else.292 This

proposal in short derives the necessity of multiple attributes from the PSR by making the very

possibility of explanation hinge on this multiplicity. But even this proposal is right, it does not

provide us with a justification of the attribute of Extension in particular. At most it lets us establish

the existence of some other attribute in addition to Thought. Spinoza’s commentators usually treat

Extension as by far the more intelligible of the two humanly knowable attributes of Spinoza’s

substance. Yet it seems that in another sense in Spinoza’s system matter and bodies remain far more

shrouded in mystery than Thought.

In closing let me suggest a possible, although highly speculative, line of argument that could

justify the necessity of Extension in Spinoza’s system. On this reading, it would be the definition of

substance that would already necessitate the existence not just of the attribute of Thought, as

already has been proposed above, but also of the attribute of Extension. We saw earlier that

Spinoza’s definition of substance implies that substance is necessarily modified by an act of

thinking: by virtue of its essential nature it must have an idea of itself. As a consequence substance,

292 (*) See Della Rocca, “Explaining Explanation”.

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we said, is essentially and necessarily a res cogitans, a thinking ‘subject’. But what goes along with such

a conclusion, although we have not yet explicitly thematized it, is that substance thereby necessarily

becomes the object of an act of thinking, it is necessarily picked out by an idea. And what I want to

propose is that it is this aspect of the being of substance – substance qua intentional object, or that

which is, considered qua object of idea – that provides the fundamental meaning of ‘Extension’ for

Spinoza,293 more fundamental than any notion of corporeality or movement. (Indeed, note that the

phrase “motion and rest”, despite its ostensibly obvious physical overtones, is how Aristotle

describes the inner principle of change of each living being – as a principle of “motion and rest”294).

This interpretation of the notion of Extension is suggested moreover by Spinoza’s comment that

the thinking substance and the extended substance are one and the same substance, which is now comprehended under this attribute, now under that. So also a mode of extension and the idea of that mode are one and the same thing, but expressed in two ways. Some of the Hebrews seem to have seen this, as if through a cloud, when they maintained that God, God's intellect, and the things understood by him are one and the same. (2p7s; II/90).

For Spinoza insofar as substance is by definition necessarily conceived of, it is a res extensa. Insofar as

it is the only thing that could be doing the conceiving, it is necessarily a res cogitans.295 In the absence

of viable alternatives this proposal – although admittedly highly speculative – remains, for the time

being at least, perhaps the most promising way to close the yawning gap in Spinoza’s order of

demonstrations created by the unexplained appearance of Extension.

293 I’m indebted here to a suggestion by Clinton Tolley. 294 (*) See e.g. De Anima, passim. 295 Of course the problem that immediately arises is that Extension is supposed to be only one of “all

possible” attributes; it’s not clear whether there is room for any other attributes on this proposal. Moreover, it’s not clear how we could ground Spinoza’s fairly traditional physics of bodies, revolving around more and less complex bodies, in an Extension so understood. Arguably this justification is also guilty of infringing on Spinoza’s prohibition on explanations across the attributes, since it justifies Extension by appealing to an idea.

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PART D: SPINOZA’S DEFINITIONS

Everyone…agrees that the best and surest Method of seeking and teaching the truth in the Sciences is that of the Mathematicians, who demonstrate their Conclusions from Definitions, Postulates, and Axioms. …For since a certain and firm knowledge of anything unknown can only be derived from things known certainly beforehand, these things must be laid down at the start, as a stable foundation on which to build the whole edifice of human knowledge; otherwise it will soon collapse of its own accord, or be destroyed by the slightest blow.

– Meyer, Preface to PCP (I/127)

The Idealist complaint about Spinoza was that he fails to establish that substance must give

rise to anything else, and thus that he is not entitled to treat attributes and modes as more than

illusory beings. What I’ve tried to show in Part III is that it’s inaccurate to view the problem of the

self-differentiation of a simple, unified original principle as a problem Spinoza faces. For although

this is one of the most frequent assumptions made about Spinoza’s metaphysics, not just by the

Idealists, but by commentators from Bayle to Wolfson,296 what the past two sections have

demonstrated is that Spinoza never conceives of substance as a simple, undifferentiated unity,

graspable apart from attributes or modes. As we saw in that Part, we can reconstitute to a great

degree Spinoza’s derivations of the necessity of modes and attributes – which the Idealists

pronounced simply missing from his account – by analyzing the implications of Spinoza’s basic

definitions. In this way we arrive at the necessity of an infinite series of infinite modes of thought,

the necessity of “attributes” in general, as well as the necessity of the attribute of Thought, and of an

296 (*) Cf. e.g. Wolfson, Philosophy of Spinoza, 156; Bayle, HCD, “Spinoza”, ‘N’, 307, 310-12; Joachim,

Study, 43. Cf. also Jacobi (Spinoza’s “immanent infinite cause [i.e., God] has, as such, explicite, neither understanding nor will. For because of its transcendental unity and thoroughgoing absolute infinity, it can have no object of thought and will” [CDS, 188])

I agree instead with Donagan’s verdict that Spinoza “abandon[s] the classical conception of God as an ens simplicissimum” (“Essence and the Distinction of Attributes”, 179). (It is true of course that Spinoza saw God as “simple” in the sense of not being composed of “parts” [cf. e.g. Ep. 35].)

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“infinity” of attributes, in particular. These thus prove to be as eternally necessary and as ‘real’ as

substance itself.

However, these definitions themselves are a double-edged sword. For, on the one hand,

they allow us to ward off the Idealist charge that Spinoza does not justify the various rungs of his

ontological ladder. Yet on the other hand, our recognition of the weighty consequences that

Spinoza’s definitions have for the rest of his ontology simply resurrects the Idealist charge in a new

guise: for why these definitions? Why think that the essential nature of a substance is what Spinoza

says it is, and not something else? (Why, in particular, should substance be “conceived”? For, as we

have seen, it is precisely this clause of the definition that leads us to affirm the existence of infinite

modes and of the attribute of thought.)297

This new doubt, in other words, concerns grounds that would entitle Spinoza to think that

he has adequately captured the essences – as (he thinks) a definition must – of fundamental entities

and that these definitions are therefore indeed “true”, as – he explicitly insists298 – a “definition”

must be.299 Spinoza’s decision to embrace synthesis as his chosen method for the exposition of his

own system – thus of a method that brazenly declares its reliance on definitions – must have been

297 Caird rejects this line of questioning as missing the point of Spinoza’s definition of substance: he

regards it as beyond explanation by virtue of being presumed by every explanation (Spinoza, 139). 298 (*) Cf. e.g. Ep. 9 (IV/43); Ep. 4 (IV/13). Cf. also “we shall produce, according to the true

Logic…laws of definition guided by the division of Nature we make” (KV1.7; I/46). 299 Spinoza was certainly familiar with Descartes’s criticism of synthesis as a method of exposition

that begins with definitions, on pedagogical grounds; Meyer cites Descartes’s discussion of synthetic and analytic method in the PCP Preface (I/129). For Descartes as for Hegel although it may be legitimate to start with definitions in geometry, philosophy is very much unlike geometry in this respect. However, whereas for Hegel the relevant difference between geometry and philosophy was that in geometry we can legitimately start with mere assumptions, philosophy demands “absolutely true” content (LHP 3.263-4), Descartes’s complaint against synthesis had to do only with the different degree of ease in the epistemological access to the basic notions in the two cases: geometrical “primary notions” are effortlessly accepted by everyone, because “they accord with the use of our senses” (2nd Repl; AT VII 156-7); in contrast, metaphysical “primary notions”, although by their “nature” equally evident or even more so, “conflict with…preconceived opinions derived from the senses”; thus in “metaphysics”, there is nothing harder than “making our perception of the primary notions clear and distinct” (ibid).

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motivated in part at least300 by his belief that the understanding is capable of spontaneously

generating objectively valid ideas, that is ideas which correspond to the natures of real beings, a

conviction ultimately underpinned by the metaphysical thesis that the order of ideas and the order of

things in substance must correspond (2p7). This faith in the intellect’s ability to construct true

definitions of its own power in part at least explains his belief in the possibility and propriety of

beginning a philosophical system with definitions.301 But how do we show that Spinoza’s definitions

are indeed products of genuine understanding? (Moreover, since Spinoza’s view of the nature and

capacities of the understanding ultimately derives in part from the truth of these definitions, it’s not

clear that can we appeal to this doctrine to justify them, without begging the question.)302 If we

respond by pointing out that Spinoza holds that true ideas are intrinsically certain,303 can we pinpoint

precisely how Spinoza’s definitions of substance and mode manifest to us their truth?304 (And we

may wonder whether we really know what Spinoza means by intrinsic certainty. For does not the

Principle of Contradiction seem to us to be self-evident in the requisite manner? And yet it does not

seem that Spinoza regards it as a true statement.)305 In his writings Spinoza again and again berates

those who cling to old conceptual habits, to notions by which we have become “accustomed [solere]

to explain nature” (1App; II/83), but from the point of view of his Idealist critics it is not clear what

300 I will not address here other motivations Spinoza may have had for choosing synthesis, such as its aptitude for replicating objectively the formal order of causes holding in Nature, as well as its pedagogical value.

301 (*) Gueroult emphasizes this line of thought in his defense of Spinoza’s definitions (Spinoza I, 25-6).

302 There is no evidence that Spinoza would accept a coherentist account of justification. 303 (*) Cf. e.g. TdIE, §35-62; 2p43s; II/124. 304 Both Nadler (Spinoza, 48) and Gueroult (Spinoza I 22ff) describe Spinoza’s definitions as intended

to be in principle self-evident. Gueroult adds that Spinoza’s definitions require demonstration – as in the case of God’s definition, which is proved to be a real definition in 1p11 – only for the sake of those who have been rendered blind by the imagination (ibid, 22).

305 For one, whatever Spinoza means by the intrinsic certainty of a true idea, this must amount to much more than the claim that true ideas can be shown to be non-contradictory. For non-contradictoriness does not even suffice to establish possibility in Spinoza’s framework: not everything that we might consider ‘logically possible’ is possible from Spinoza’s point of view. The only things that can truly be said to be “possible” are those that fit within the distinctive causal order of “all possible” propria following from the divine essence.

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guarantees that his own definitions are not arbitrary postulates whose familiarity306 is mistaken for

their veracity. Likewise, he contrasts definitions capable of disclosing the true nature of a thing “as

it exists outside the intellect”, with definitions of merely imaginary inventions (Ep.9; IV/43), but we

may wonder how he guarantees this that his own definitions do not fall into the second camp. If we

are not able to quash such misgivings by showing how Spinoza’s definitions can be seen as justified,

then even if we have demonstrated that the existence of modes and attributes follows from the

definition of substance (if substance itself exists), we will not have answered the Idealist charge that

Spinoza is not really entitled to assert what he asserts. The danger is that Spinoza’s system, to the

degree to which it unfolds from these definitions, will prove to have been nothing more than an

inference from a few arbitrary premises.307

In the previous Part I argued that the necessity of things like infinite modes and of the

attributes themselves in Spinoza’s metaphysics can arguably be traced back to Spinoza’s definitions.

In other words, it seems that the general problem of missing demonstrations or missing justification

in Spinoza’s metaphysics – the problem that the Idealists raise – is in the end arguably largely

reducible to the problem of Spinoza’s outsized reliance on definitions. Among the Idealist

commentators it is Hegel who pays greatest attention to this aspect of Spinoza’s system. Hegel’s

verdict is indeed that “the whole of Spinoza’s philosophy is contained in these definitions”, but that

Spinoza fails to show why the notions he had elevated to the status of fundamental definitions

should be judged to have been “necessary” as notions, and not simply “assumed”, as if they were

306 (*) Cf. e.g. Descartes’s definitions of substance Fourth Repl. (AT VII 222, 226); Second Repl. (AT

VII 161); and Pr I 51. Cf. also Categories Ia16ff for Aristotle’s distinction between substances and accidents as things that respectively do and do not exist in subjects.

307 This charge of arbitrariness to be clear does not apply to all of Spinoza's definitions in the same way or to the same degree. For example there is a plausible argument to be made that once we grant Spinoza’s definition of substance, any actual substance must correspond to the definition of God, or substance with all possible attributes.

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“intuitive”.308 Hegel’s general insight that there are fatal gaps in Spinoza’s demonstrations, in the

totality of justifications he offers, is therefore, in my view, most compelling precisely here, at the

moment when Hegel questions the reasoning behind Spinoza’s choice of definitions. 309

The challenge for us then is to see whether we can reconstitute the process of reasoning, the

prior “analysis” hidden behind the “synthetic” façade of the Ethics,310 which leads Spinoza to the

308 (*) Hegel writes, e.g. “The whole of Spinoza’s philosophy is contained in these definitions, which, however, taken as a whole are formal; it is really a weak point in Spinoza that he begins thus with definitions. …Instead of only explaining these simple thoughts and representing them as concrete in the definitions which he makes, what he ought to have done was to examine whether this content is true. To all appearance it is only the explanation of the words that is given; but the content of the words is held to be established. All further content is merely derived from that, and proved thereby for on the first content all the rest depends, and if it is established as a basis, the other necessarily follows.” (LHP 3.263-4; cf. 260); “the mathematical and demonstrative method of Spinoza would seem to be only a defect in the external form; but it is the fundamental defect of the whole position. In this method the nature of philosophic knowledge and the object thereof, are entirely misconceived… [T]he content of Philosophy…is simply the Notion and that which is comprehended by the Notion. …[T]his Notion as the knowledge of the essence is simply one assumed…and this is what represents itself to be the method peculiar to Spinoza’s philosophy. …The definitions from which Spinoza takes his start…are solely and simply accepted and assumed, not deduced, nor proved to be necessary; for Spinoza is not aware of how he arrives at these individual determinations… The determinations ‘in itself’ and ‘in another’ are not shown forth in their necessity: neither is this disjunction proved; it is merely assumed” (ibid, 283-4 cf. 285); “As intuitively accepted by Spinoza without a previous mediation by dialectic, Substance, as the universal negative power, as it were, a dark shapeless abyss which engulfs all definite content as radically null, and produces from itself nothing has a positive subsistence of its own” (EL §151, p. 215).

309 Leibniz also had doubts about the validity of Spinoza’s definitions, thought he was not, like Hegel, expressing discontent with the very idea of beginning a philosophical system with definitions. Leibniz makes in particular the specific charge that Spinoza failed to prove, in his definition of God, the compatibility of all the attributes (a comment on Leibniz’s copy of Spinoza’s Opera Posthuma, cited in Curley, SM 15). It seems to me that this criticism can be easily fended off. Since the attributes do not share a genus but each corresponds to an irreducible concept, they cannot be contradictory. (For this point cf. also Deleuze, Expressionism, 78-80.) Indeed, in the Ethics Spinoza explicitly dismisses the idea that the definition of God might involve a contradiction as “absurd”, appealing inter alia precisely to God’s “absolute infinity” (1p11altd1; II/53), i.e. to his possession of all possible attributes. It is of course true that for Spinoza attributes share properties like infinity, eternity, etc, but it’s not clear that on the basis of such properties alone there could be grounds for contradiction.

More serious would be a charge that although any two attributes would be incapable of contradiction insofar as they fail to share a higher genus, there remains a possibility of their being incompatible or mutually-exclusive indirectly. (For example, although my idea of ‘this actual winged horse’ (a nonexistent property of Thought) cannot strictly speaking “contradict” ‘a photon traveling at the speed of light’ (a property of Extension) nonetheless from a Leibnizian point of view the two modes are incompatible, for they do not belong to the same possible world, and in each world each individual expresses every other.) However, it seems that Spinoza assures the compatibility of the modes under various attributes by treating them as “one and the same thing”, seen under a different attribute. Hence the actual series of extended things, which includes photons traveling with a certain speed, is the same series of “things” as the actual series of ideas, which implicitly excludes the idea of ‘this actual winged horse’. If the actual series of ideas included the latter idea, there would have to be corresponding changes in the series of bodies.

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conclusion that his definitions represent the fundamental articulation of all Being, the fundamental

dependencies and disjunctions of beings – and in particular, the momentous premise that there can

be no “substance” that is not conceived, and thus no “substance” without a “mode”, and no

“substance” that isn’t a thinking thing. As we saw in the previous sections of this Chapter, once we

grant Spinoza’s definitions of substance and mode, we can arguably justify some of Spinoza’s other

definitions, for example his definition of an attribute – or the claim that the essence of a substance

will be conceived. Our ability to vindicate at least one of Spinoza’s definitions in this manner should

give us hope that all of Spinoza’s definitions are susceptible of some sort of demonstration.

The question is then, can we produce a justification of these definitions, either by

reconstituting the reasoning that led Spinoza to conclude that it is precisely these definitions that

reflect the fundamental structure of what is, or by demonstrating why as true ideas these definitions

self-evidently guarantee their own truth?

Spinoza’s definitions seem amenable to several possible justifications. I will devote the

remainder of this Part to a tentative appraisal of a few different proposals.

(i) First of all, one could try to defend Spinoza’s definitions through a mixture of

coherentism and an imposition of limits on the demands of rationalism. Every thinker must

start with some undemonstrable assumption, some ultimately arbitrary philosophical decision

that will dictate the direction of the rest of his system. Accordingly, we ought to see

Spinoza’s definitions of substance and mode as expressing his fundamental assumptions

about the nature of what is – such as that what is must be conceiving and conceived. The

most we can hope for is that such initial premises will be internally logically consistent, and

310 Meyer suggests in his Preface to the PCP that although Spinoza presents his system synthetically,

it seems that some version of “analysis” remains his method of discovery of the contents of this system (I/129/15-20).

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that they will be consistent with the rest of his system, and perhaps even that some of the

subsequent, more empirically specific propositions (such as Spinoza’s detailed depictions of

the passions) will demonstrably latch onto the world and thus retroactively confer a degree

of plausibility onto the definitions.

This sort of approach to Spinoza’s definitions is pondered by Nadler;311 it is

suggested also for example by Bennett, who proposes that Spinoza treats his definitions as

elements of a hypothetico-deductive system which will be validated by what they allow us to

infer.312

Whatever the general merits of such an approach outside of the context of the Spinoza’s

philosophy, to explain Spinoza’s choice of his definitions in this manner seems simply to concede

that there is no reason for them, and thus that Spinoza fails to justify the fundamental building

blocks of his system, contravening his own commitment to the PSR. Recall that the standard of

evidence that Spinoza sets is that the truth of true ideas will be evident in these ideas, and not merely

that true ideas will be mutually consistent, or retroactively and derivatively empirically confirmable.

The second and much more promising way to justify both the definition of substance and

the definition of a mode would be to appeal to the PSR:313

(ii) It is not the definitions that constitute the real foundations of Spinoza’s metaphysical

architecture but rather the PSR – which Spinoza describes in one place as “an eternal truth”

311 (*) Nadler writes that “One possibility [for justifying the definitions] is that the definitions are

‘proven’ by their consequences. Spinoza believes that one acquires greater knowledge of a cause by coming to a grater knowledge of its effects… Ultimately however, Spinoza seems not to be troubled by the epistemological worry of how to justify his definitions.” (Spinoza , 48).

312 (*) Study, 21. 313 Della Rocca treats the PSR as the fundamental principle of Spinoza’s philosophy in this manner.

The details of the account however are mine.

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(Ep. 10).314 It this Principle that underlies the definitions (and indeed much else). The

formulation of Spinoza’s version of the PSR on which we have relied thus far in this Chapter

has been imprecise. For this Principle ought to be understood not just as the general and

vague claim that there must be an idea of and cause for every thing, but rather that these

ideas and causes must pertain to the essences of the things in question. In the context of this

Principle, we can read Spinoza’s definitions as describing first of all the possibility of two

fundamental kinds of entities: either a thing is caused and conceived on its own account, or

on the account of something else. The necessity of the first kind of entity follows from the

PSR: if there must be a reason and cause for everything, we must end explanations in a self-

explanatory and self-caused entity.315 The necessity of the second kind of entity – of a

“mode” – follows from the fact that once we grant that there must be a self-conceived

entity, there is necessarily an idea of that entity, and this idea does not have the nature of

something that makes no reference to something else: this idea is caused by substance (and

more precisely by the fact that it belongs to the essence of substance to be conceived in a

certain manner), and cannot be completely understood without a reference to substance

(more precisely, without reference to the substance’s essentially conceiving nature).316 Thus,

on the assumption of the PSR, both substance and mode prove to be necessary entities; as

such, their definitions can claim to be true and to express genuine essences.

The PSR also supplies a possible at least partial explanation for what is perhaps the

most conspicuous feature of Spinoza’s definitions of substance and mode, namely for the

314 More precisely, Spinoza describes in this way the thesis that “nothing comes from nothing”

(IV/47/20-25). 315 The PSR would also allow us to justify the definition of an attribute, by explaining why the

“essence” of substance must be conceived by an “intellect” 316 Pace Jacobi’s suggestion that the PSR rules out the possibility of modes; see note 7.

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fact that these definitions are articulated in terms of mirroring relations of both ontological317

and conceptual dependence (in the case of modes) or independence (in the case of

substance).318 For the PSR can explain why any thing will necessarily be conceived.319 If a

thing depends on something else for its existence (as a mode does), then its conception will

have to make mention of that other thing; if a thing does not depend on anything else (as

substance does not), then its conception will also have no need of mentioning any other

entity.

Finally we should note that a prior commitment to the PSR on Spinoza’s behalf

would also provide an explanation (arguably a simpler and more elegant one than that

proposed in Part III) of both substance’s self-differentiation into modes and attributes, and

for at least some of Spinoza’s related metaphysical commitments: in particular, for the

necessity of an idea of substance, if there is substance (since there must be an idea or

explanation of substance); for the necessity of an attribute of thought (if there is an idea of

each thing, as the PSR stipulates, then the existence of these ideas themselves must have a

cause; arguably a substantial “thinking thing”, i.e. a self-explanatory cause of ideas, must

therefore be posited); and for the conceptual construal of “reality” in general.

317 Although I will not go into this controversial issue here, I do believe that contrary to what is alleged e.g. by scholars like Curley and Della Rocca, there are overwhelming reasons to treat the notion of being “in” something, as this notion appears in the definitions of substance and mode, as conceptually distinct from the notion being caused by something, and referring instead to independence or self-subsistence of the kind that mere properties lack in an exemplary manner (among these reasons are e.g. the fact that Spinoza proves the self-causation of substance in the Ethics [in 1p6-7]; or the fact that there is a separate definition of causa sui in the treatise, in addition to the definition of substance as what is “in itself”). Substance is both a cause of modes qua effects and a subject of modes qua properties. For this kind of non-causal reading of inherence see Nadler, Spinoza, or Carriero, “Spinoza’s definition of substance and mode”.

318 (*) Leibniz for one questions why in Spinoza’s definition of substance the two clauses – referring respectively to being and to conceiving – must go together. In Leibniz’s view, there are things which are in se but must be conceived through something else, and this is precisely what a “substance” is (a comment on Leibniz’s copy of Spinoza’s Opera Posthuma, cited in Curley, SM 15).

319 Alternatively, if we read the inherence relation in the definitions as identical to a causal relation we could perhaps say that the dual-clause nature of the definitions reflects the fact that the PSR asks for a “cause or [sive] reason” of a thing (1p11altd). However, as noted earlier (see note 317), I do not think that the inherence relation appealed to by the definitions is identical to a causal relation.

307

This is, undoubtedly, a very promising line of thought. The above account is not, however,

without its problems. First of all, arguably it is not an open-and-shut case that the PSR necessitates,

as the account has it, the existence of a self-explanatory and ontologically self-dependent entity, and

thus provides a justification of Spinoza’s definition of substance. For it seems that the PSR leaves

the door open to an infinite series of reasons and causes, as long as there is a reason and cause for

every thing.320

Secondly, although the PSR undoubtedly is a principle of impressive explanatory power

when it comes to shining light on the murky corners of Spinoza’s system, this explanatory power

nevertheless has its limits, and so it also is not an open-and-shut case that the PSR is superior to the

alternative accounts proposed earlier in this Chapter. For example, an appeal to Spinoza’s version of

the PSR will not justify his thesis that causal relations are formal-causal in nature, since the formal-

causal model is not reducible to the claim that there is a series of ideas that parallels each causal

chain: the PSR dictates intelligibility, but not any particular kind of intelligibility (on its basis alone

we couldn’t for example choose between the formal-causal and the ‘logicising’ accounts of Spinoza’s

causal metaphysics, discussed in Chapter 2).

Third, the PSR does not in fact help explain Spinoza’s specification in the definitions of

mode and substance how such entities must be conceived, since the PSR asserts only that everything

must be conceived or have a cause; not that it pertains to the essence of each thing to be conceived or

have a cause. But it is the latter claim that the definitions are in fact making, since – as definitions –

they are concerned with stating the essences of their definienda.

320 Indeed, in principle it leaves open the possibility of a coherentist alternative to termination of

explanatory and causal series in a foundational entity. However, as already noted, there does not seem to be any textual evidence for attributing a coherentist position to Spinoza. (On the contrary – as the quote from Meyer at the beginning of this section attests – his sympathies are clearly on the side of foundationalist approaches.)

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A fourth and final difficulty that besets this sort of attempt to appeal to the PSR to justify

Spinoza’s definitions (or any other element of his system) is that it’s not clear how, once given this

role, the PSR itself is to be justified – how, that is, we could show either that there is a reason why

this Principle holds, or that there cannot be a reason why it doesn’t hold. The PSR must of course be

justified if it is to be the tool that successfully refutes the Idealist charges that Spinoza’s system rests

on brute assumptions, and indeed if it itself is to hold true, given that it stipulates that there is a

reason for every thing.

Della Rocca, in portraying the PSR as the fundamental force shaping Spinoza’s philosophy,

defends this Principle as a “natural” “intuition” (“need”, “inclination”, “sentiment”), a “plausible”

kind of demand to understand,321 and one which we already heed in particular cases, but then

arbitrarily (thus begging the question against the advocate of the PSR) deem illegitimate once it

comes to seeking the explanation for every thing.322 The problem with this line of argument – in

addition to the fact that it’s not obvious that questions we can ask of particulars can be meaningfully

asked of the whole – is that it does not justify a robust ontological version of the PSR of the sort that

is endorsed by Spinoza, according to which there necessarily in fact exist reasons for, or ideas of,

every thing. The defense of the PSR proposed by Della Rocca can perhaps justify our use of the

PSR, or a version of the PSR on which this Principle is a natural, perhaps even inevitable, demand of

human psychology, or alternatively a regulative “Idea” in the Kantian sense. But nothing Della

Rocca says in defense of the PSR shows that Nature itself, or the divine intellect, are constituted in

accordance with the PSR. PSR justified in the way Della Rocca proposes would at most represent a

logically necessary feature of our finite intellect, or a “transcendentally” necessary one, in the

Kantian sense. Since there is nothing contradictory about the absence of a reason or cause, a

321 (*) Della Rocca, “Rationalist manifesto” (76-7, 88-9); cf. Spinoza, 307. 322 Della Rocca, Spinoza, 307. Della Rocca also defends the PSR on the grounds that it allows to

develop a “productive” and “the most coherent overall system” (ibid, 305).

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Kantian route of showing something like the transcendental necessity of the PSR might then be one

way Spinoza could respond to Idealist criticism. But again none of this sheds much light on the

much more robust, ontological and universally valid version of the PSR to which Spinoza seems to

be committed.

To be sure, to a degree, our demand for a justification for (i.e., a reason for) the PSR is self-

justifying: this is because if there is no reason for it then the PSR itself is falsified – there is no such

Principle.323 But this line of reasoning only goes so far: it does not furnish us yet with a reason why

the PSR must hold in Spinoza’s metaphysics; it only generally specifies that this Principle itself must

have a reason, if it exists. This argument does not rule out that the PSR cannot in fact hold in

Spinoza’s system (for example because it proves inconsistent with other fundamental premises of his

metaphysics). Earlier I suggested that perhaps the most promising way to justify Spinoza’s reliance

on the PSR is to ground it in the fact that substance, as an essentially thinking thing, necessarily has

an idea of what is. (From this perspective, for the PSR not to hold would mean that – per

impossibile – God fails to have an idea of some thing.) But obviously this way of justifying the PSR

is not available to someone looking for the PSR to justify the definition of substance, since on this

earlier account the PSR itself is a consequence of this definition. The question then that remains

unanswered is whether we can show that there cannot be a reason why PSR would not hold in any

other way than by appealing to the definition of substance as an entity that necessarily has an idea of

itself and of all the consequences of its nature.

In my view the most promising way to justify Spinoza’s definitions, and the final one I will

canvass here, proceeds by underscoring their self-evident nature:

323 I owe this point to Clinton Tolley.

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(iii) Spinoza’s definition of substance is self-evidently true.324 This is because ultimately it is

a definition of the whole of what is: for all that is, is in the end substance endowed with

certain properties (such as the idea through which this substance is by definition conceived).

(While it is true that Spinoza proves that that there is only one infinite substance, and

therefore that “substance” indeed amounts to ‘all’ that is, only in 1p14, the definition of

substance can be considered to be a “real” definition – one that captures the essence of a

real being – only insofar as it expresses an aspect of the essence of this infinite and unique

substance – in other words, only insofar as ultimately it must be recognized as the definition

of the ‘all’.325) But it is self-evident that such an ‘all’ will not depend on anything else either

for its being or for its conception (since there is nothing else); hence the ‘all’ that is – the

qualified substance – must be said to depend ontologically on itself (be “in itself”), as well as

be conceived “through itself”. (Note that it would simply be incoherent to deny that

substance is conceived in some way or other.) Here we must be careful to distinguish

(which I have failed to do thus far in this Chapter) ontological dependence, which is at stake in

the definition of substance (and indeed the definition of a mode), from the question of

causation. The need for this distinction is borne out by the fact that Spinoza introduces a

324 Note that the essence of substance is supposed to be a necessary or conceptual truth for Spinoza.

This is because the existence of substance is such a truth, and Spinoza identifies divine essence and existence: they are “one and the same [unum et idem]” insofar as they are both “explained” and “constituted” by the attributes (1p20,d).

325 It seems to me true that, as this remark suggests, at least some of Spinoza’s definitions are definitions of abstractions from real beings, or of abstracted aspects of real beings. (For example, the definition of substance is a definition of the essence of God insofar as he is a causally and conceptually self-sufficient entity.) If we combine this with Spinoza’s claim that a definition express the essence of a thing, this commits Spinoza to the view that there are essences of abstract(ed) entities (these would presumably be among the “useful” entia rationis). Spinoza indeed frequently talks about the essences and definitions of mathematical entities, which are similarly not real. (However, the fact that the definition of substance is an abstraction from the definition of God does not help derivatively justify the definition of substance, because the task of justifying the substantial aspect of God remains. Moreover, there remains the task of justifying the abstraction itself: we must show that “substance” represents a justifiable way of carving up what is (God).)

Cf. Deleuze’s proposal that the definition of substance is a merely “nominal” definition (Expressionism, 20)

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separate definition of causa sui in addition to his definition of substance as being in se, as well

as by the fact that Spinoza explicitly argues for the claim that substance is self-caused (1p6-7),

which strongly suggests that the relation of being “in”, or inherence, is a at least conceptually

distinct from the relation of causation.326

In short, both this ontological self-dependence of substance (signaled by the phrase

“in se esse”), and the conceptual autonomy (signaled by the phrase “per se concipere”), must

be interpreted weakly and negatively, that is as the claim that substance doesn’t depend on

anything else either for its being or for its conception (since, again, there is nothing else). On

this account, the definition of substance is justified because it asserts a self-evident truth that

the being and conception of the ‘all that is’ does not draw on resources outside the ‘all that

is’. The definition guarantees its own truth as an idea by representing something we

recognize (or at least in principle could and should recognize) as self-evidently true.

In turn, Spinoza’s definition of a mode will then be justified in two ways. First of all,

it is justified because it represents a self-evidently possible, or non-contradictory, entity. For

the idea of a “mode” is simply the idea of a thing that depends for its being and explicability

on something else. The possibility of entities of this kind, the claim that the notion of such

an entity is intrinsically coherent, hardly seem deniable. Secondly, the very notion of a mode

is implicit already in the definition of substance, precisely insofar as substance is defined as

“conceived in itself”: for this implies the existence of a fundamentally derivative and

dependent entity (namely of the idea of the substance, which exists as a result of the

existence of substance – and so is ontologically dependent – and whose explanation requires

the mention of substance – hence its conceptual dependence). Thus if as suggested we

326 In support of this interpretation we could furthermore cite the fact that many medieval

philosophers regarded God as “in” himself without claiming that God causes himself in any positive sense. See also note 317.

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accept that the definition of substance represents a self-evident truth, we must accept the

definition of a mode as a consequence of this truth.327

The I think is a very promising line of explanation. Its weakest point is that it seems to

hinge on a controversial interpretation of the meaning of the definition of substance. For one could

object that we cannot take the notion of “substance” to mean the ‘all’ that is, which is the premise

on which the above proposal hinges. This blurs the distinction between the first cause, or absolute

ground, of what is, and the totality of what is, takes Natura naturans for Nature in general. That

Spinoza intends the definition of substance to function solely as a definition of this first principle,

and not of the whole, would appear to be suggested by how he later uses this definition in the Ethics.

For in the crucial 1p5d he glosses “considering [considerare]” substance “in itself [in se]” as its

“affections [being] put to one side [deponere]”. That is, it seems that to consider substance as

327 Here is an alternative justification of the definition of a mode: We can arrive at the possibility of a

“mode” simply by negating the definition of substance: if “substance” is what is in itself and conceived in itself, a “mode” is neither of these things. In this way modes enter the logical space of possibility. And since in Spinoza’s necessitarian system whatever is possible is also necessary, once modes become possible as a result of this negation of the nature of substance, modes also prove to be necessary. Hence, they must also actually exist. (This way to justify the existence of a mode was suggested to me in conversation by Amélie Rorty).

This sort of explanation is certainly appealing in its simplicity. (Indeed, if right, this account would offer us an alternative way to reject acosmic interpretations of Spinoza’s metaphysics.) The reliance on the idea of negation makes the above proof merely finitely valid, but this does not rule it out as a demonstration: as we saw earlier, Spinoza clearly admits into the Ethics such merely finitely valid explanations (for example, proofs by contradiction). What does threaten the validity of the above explanation, as it is currently stated, is the way it turns on the notion of “possibility”. The problem is that, as it stands, the explanation appears to presume that the possibility of mode-hood or non-substantiality created by a negation of the definition of substance will correspond to a genuine possibility on Spinoza’s terms; only this kind of “possibility” is convertible with “necessity” in his framework. But of course not everything that we might identify as ‘logically possible’, because non-contradictory, is genuinely possible from Spinoza’s point of view. For him, the only things that can truly be said to be “possible” are those that fit within the distinctive causal order of “all possible” propria following from the divine essence. In short, for the argument suggested to go through we must then show that modes – the non-substantial entities produced by a negation of the definition of substance – indeed represent a genuine possibility, according to these more stringent criteria of what constitutes “possibility”; it is only on this condition that we can take the further step of asserting that modes are also “necessary” and so really existent.

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substance, or “in itself” – which is how a definition ought to represent substance, presumably – is to

grasp it precisely in separation from its modes, contrary to the above proposal.

It’s not clear to me how successful this objection is. For one could arguably in turn object to

it that to “put modes to one side” means merely to refrain from appealing to this feature of

substance in one’s explanation, not however to deny that substance qua substance necessarily has

modes or properties – to deny that to define substance is to define substance as an entity from

which everything else follows. As Spinoza himself writes, substance as “the origin of nature….is, in

fact, a being unique and infinite, that is, it is all being, beyond which there is no being” (TdIE §76, II/29; my

ital.). Similarly in the Ethics, he refers to God as the “whole of nature” in 1p11s (II/54).

None of the proposed solutions for justifying Spinoza’s definitions are perhaps fully

satisfactory. But they do suggest in what direction an answer must be sought in order to refute the

Idealist charge that the necessity of substance's self-differentiation into modes and attributes,

dictated by the content of Spinoza’s fundamental definitions, proves to have been nothing more

than an consequence of a few arbitrary and dogmatic assertions, left over by the philosophical

tradition.

314

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