I was writing another essay, which led me to crawl through Baruch Spinoza\u2019s \u2018Ethics\u2019. There is this bit in Sartre\u2019s \u2018Being and Nothingness\u2019 where he (lvi) makes note of people\u2019s tendency to attribute whatever it is that they fail to explain to the will of God. I\u2019ve mentioned this before, but I\u2019ve mentioned this issue only in passing. I haven\u2019t really delved into how Spinoza addresses this issue, which is pretty much the crux of his book.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Before I take a closer look at his book, starting from the beginning, I\u2019ll introduce the issue, as it discussed by Spinoza in the appendix to the first part of the book. I could, of course, just start from the beginning, but I think he is more approachable when he isn\u2019t going through it all in his rather cut and dry manner. I think he contextualizes things better when does it in prose. Anyway, so, he (75) makes note of the way people tend to conceive God as a willing being behind everything:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\u201cIt is accepted as certain, that God himself directs all things to a definite goal[.]\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
He wonders why that might be. He (75) mentions that he will address this by expressing certain underlying presuppositions. Firstly:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\u201c[People] are born ignorant of the causes of things[.]\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
Secondly (75):<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\u201c[They] have the desire to seek for what is useful to them[.]\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
Thirdly (75):<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\u201c[T]hey are conscious of such desire.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
Which leads him (75) to state that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\u201c[People] think themselves free inasmuch as they are conscious of their volitions and desires, and never even dream, in their ignorance, of the causes which have disposed them so to wish and desire.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
And (75):<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\u201c[People] do all things for an end, namely, for that which is useful to them, and which they seek.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
He (75-76) then adds to this that when it comes to making sense of something, what might have happened and what might have caused it, people seek to get to the bottom of things, to understand \u201cthe final cause of events\u201d. If they get to the bottom of things, or, well, I guess, if they think they do, they are happy and move on. If they don\u2019t get to the bottom of things, they move from what\u2019s out there to themselves, to reflect on what might have made them \u201cto bring about the given event\u201d, followed by extending this way of thinking about themselves to the behavior of others. There is, of course, a lot of which doesn\u2019t seem to make much sense and has little use to people, as such, on their own, which pushes them to think that things are the way they are, because someone else, some other entity made it so, if only so that the things that do seem to make sense to them and have utility can be used to make use of the things that do not seem to make much sense or have much utility. In other words, people are in the habit of explaining why things are the way they are and why this and that happens by attributing it to some otherworldly cause (76):<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\u201cAs [people] look upon things as means, they cannot believe them to be self \u2013 created; but, judging from the means which they are accustomed to prepare for themselves, they are bound to believe in some ruler or rulers of the universe endowed with human freedom, who have arranged and adapted everything for human use.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
So, people tend to think that things are the way they are not because they themselves created them, which I reckon is partially true (like you don\u2019t create your own body, or its parts, like the eyes which allow you to see, but then again, in a way, your parents did, and so did their grandparents etc.), but because someone else created them for the people, so that they would be of use to the people, directly or indirectly, even though this logic of utility to people comes from the people themselves, what they find useful to them. He (76) further clarifies this, how it is that people come to project themselves as these otherworldly entities:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\u201c[People] are bound to estimate the nature of such rulers (having no information on the subject) in accordance with their own nature, and therefore they assert that the gods ordained everything for the use of man, in order to bind man to themselves and obtain from him the highest honor.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
To paraphrase this, people come to fill in the blanks by explaining that things are the way they are because it wouldn\u2019t seem to make any sense to them otherwise. Simply put, people come to think that things are the way they are because that\u2019s the way they find it to be useful to them, that is to say what\u2019s desirable to them, but without acknowledging, without making it clear to others, that they themselves are responsible for this logic. In his (76) words:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\u201cHence also it follows, that everyone thought out for [one]self, according to [one\u2019s] abilities, a different way of worshipping God, so that God might love [one] more than [one\u2019s] fellows, and direct the whole course of nature for the satisfaction of [one\u2019s] blind cupidity and insatiable avarice.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
So, there are certain desires that come to influence what people think and do (or just do if we considering thinking as doing). When people turn to themselves, to ponder what it is that they desire, they may end up conflating what they think they desire with what they actually desire, which is not the case. Anyway, things don\u2019t seem to make much sense, on their own, only in relation to what people find to be of use to them, that is to say desirable to them, yet they can\u2019t explain why that is, which is why some otherworldly entity must have made them so, so that they are that way, useful or desirable. That\u2019s why people wish to be favored by these otherworldly entities. It\u2019s also why, conversely, people don\u2019t want to fall out of favor with them. As he (76) goes on to specify, when something is negative or, rather, when something negative happens, it\u2019s because people had it coming, because they acted against the otherworldly entities. It\u2019s really just about confusing what you want, which you can\u2019t know, except, perhaps, intuitively, with what you think you want, hence the aforementioned projection. He (78) exemplifies this way of thinking:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\u201c[I]f a stone falls from a roof on to someone\u2019s head, and kills him, they will demonstrate \u2026 that the stone fell in order to kill the man; for, if it had not by God\u2019s will fallen with that object, how could so many circumstances \u2026 have all happened together by chance?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
In other words, there\u2019s a lot involved in whatever it is that happens. That\u2019s called contingency<\/em>. It happened but there was nothing necessary <\/em>about it. It\u2019s all circumstantial, as he (78) points out. It could have also happened if the circumstances were different, which is why he (78) states that \u201cthere are often many concurrent circumstances\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In this case the most likely scenario involves wind that blows the stone from the roof and a man who happens to walk by the building, as he (78) points out. That said, the people he is talking about, those who attribute things to the will of God, won\u2019t be satisfied with that answer because, as he (78) sees it, in their view, that doesn\u2019t explain what caused the wind to blow, nor what made the man walk by that building at that time of the day. You could answer that the most likely scenario for this involves a sudden shift in weather while the man was not at home. The wind was strong enough to dislodge a stone from the roof because of a clear difference in atmospheric pressure had developed quite rapidly and the man had no other options but to return home. He (78) notes that this won\u2019t satisfy the people he is talking about either. They\u2019ll want to know what resulted in those differences in atmospheric pressure and what made the man leave his home, and so on, and so on, ad infinitum<\/em>, so that they can say: \u2018ha, see, God willed it!\u2019 That\u2019s what he (78) calls the sanctuary or asylum of ignorance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Of course, he (77) isn\u2019t buying this final cause argument. He (77) finds it absurd to think that some otherworldly entity, in this case God, \u201cacts for an object\u201d, because, if that were to be the case, then it wouldn\u2019t be perfect, you know, like omnipotent, omnipresent and omniscient (although, technically it cannot be any of these, as it just is what it is) because it would be desiring something that it lacks. In short, something perfect needs nothing and thus can\u2019t desire or will anything. If it did, then it would not be perfect. It would lack something and the act of desire or will would be directed to perfecting itself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
To him (46), a thing <\/em>always exist<\/em> as \u201cin itself or in something else\u201d, which, of course, also exists in itself or in something else, and so on and so on, ad infinitum<\/em>. Conversely, if a thing doesn\u2019t actually exist, it still can be understood as non-existing<\/em>. So, in other words, the presence of something<\/em> can be understood in terms of its absence. Something<\/em> can appear missing. For example, a dead person doesn\u2019t actually exist, as such, but the person can be conceived as non-existing. As he (51) goes on to clarify this, everything exists or happens for a reason, there being a cause, and even if something doesn\u2019t exist or happen, it also doesn\u2019t exist or happen for a reason, there being a cause for it to not exist or to not happen. In other words, the negative is to be understood as negated from the positive. So, for example, I\u2019m here, writing this essay, but I can also be understood as not existing somewhere else. Being here makes it so that I\u2019m not somewhere else. If I weren\u2019t here but somewhere else, I\u2019d be non-existing here because me being somewhere else \u201cprevents it from existing, or annuls its existence\u201d, as he (51) puts it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
To make more sense of his way of thinking, it\u2019s worth covering his (45-46) definitions of substance<\/em>, attribute<\/em>, mode<\/em>, God<\/em>, freedom<\/em> and constraint<\/em> If a thing <\/em>exists in itself, if it can only be conceived through itself, independently from anything else, it is a substance<\/em>. The essence of substance is understood as constituted by an attribute<\/em>. If a thing does not exist in itself or it is understood through something else, it is a modification of substance, a mode<\/em>. A substance that consists of infinite attributes, that is to say infinite essences or essentiality, is what he calls God<\/em>. It\u2019s also worth noting that something that has existence or non-existince, having had existence or not yet having existence, is finite<\/em>, but only after its kind<\/em>, so that a body (in the broadest sense of the word) is only finite because it is always (de)limited by another body, which it is not, and a thought is always (de)limited by another thought, which it is not, but never so that a body is limited by thoughts or a thought is limited by bodies as they are not the same kind. In stark contrast, God is infinite<\/em> because it is not conceived in terms of something else besides itself. To be clear, God is also absolute<\/em> in its infiniteness, because it is not restricted by its kind. If it were infinite after its kind, it wouldn\u2019t be absolutely infinite. What exists in itself and acts on its own is free<\/em>, whereas something which is determined with respect to something else, something other than itself, is constrained<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He (54) shifts from speaking of a substance or substances to substance, there being only one substance<\/em>. Therefore, for him (54-55), substance<\/em> is God<\/em> or, conversely, God<\/em> is substance<\/em>. I reckon that I probably fail to explain his views properly, but this would appear to make sense, considering that if God exists as this absolute and infinite substance, being constituted by all the attributes, in their infinity, no other substance can exist because it would have to share the attributes with God, but that can\u2019t be because those are attributes of God. If God is constituted by infinite attributes, there can be no other substance as there are no attributes that aren\u2019t constitutive of God. That\u2019s why there can be only one substance, not many. It\u2019s already built into the definition. To make more sense of what was mentioned earlier, and to get somewhere with this, to him (55-56) bodies and thoughts, what he also calls extension<\/em> (corporeality) and thought<\/em> (incorporeality), are attributes<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He (46) also reckons that there are causes and effects or, conversely, we understand effects only because we understand their causes, like in that stone falling from the roof example. If there is no cause, there is no effect, so had there been no wind, that stone would not have fallen from the roof or had the man not walked by the building, the stone would not have landed on his head. Of course there can be other causes that lead to the same effect. It doesn\u2019t really matter that it was wind that dislodged the stone, nor that the man was visiting a certain house from which he had to return as what matters is that the falling stone ended up killing the man. Sure, the actual circumstances do matter as they constrain the situation, creating a certain scenario, but they are not to be understood as a necessity, ordained by a divine will.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In summary, when it comes to Spinoza\u2019s God, there is no negation, no lack, no imperfection. As negative is to be understood as secondary to positive, negated from it, as already discussed, and God is absolute and infinite, it cannot be imperfect, as he (53) goes to point out. So, yeah, I\u2019d say Spinoza is right when he asserts that there is no recourse to a final cause, to the will of God, because if God did indeed will it, whatever that may be, for example that the man be killed by a stone falling to his head from the roof of a building he happens to walk by, God needed it to happen, to fulfill a will or a desire, which would make God imperfect, that is to say not God.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now, Spinoza is not saying that God<\/em> or substance<\/em> (if you prefer the non-theistic term) is irrelevant when it comes to assessing how things are. He clearly states the opposite, when he (61, 66) argues that \u201cGod is the efficient cause not only of the existence of things, but also of their essence<\/em>\u201d and, more specifically, that \u201cGod is the indwelling and not the transient cause of all things<\/em>.\u201d In other words, God or substance is immanent<\/em>, that is to say imbued within everything, not transcendent, that is to say not existing on some other plane of existence. So, yeah, you could, of course, say that things are the way they are or things happen the way the do because of God, but that\u2019s only because there is nothing that exist or non-exists, nothing existing nor non-existing, without substance, without God, as already discussed. As he (55) points out, \u201cWhatsoever is, is in God, and without God nothing can be, or be conceived<\/em>.\u201d So, as he (65) goes to phrase it, \u201c[h]ence it follows that God is not only the cause of things coming into existence, but also of their continuing in existence, that is, in scholastic phraseology, God is cause of the being of things (essendi rerum<\/em>).\u201d He (88-89) further clarifies this by stating that God is indeed the cause of this and\/or that, but he is the cause of the cause, ad infinitum<\/em>, because modes are always understood through something else. If you ask me, the only way that can make sense, without infinite regress, is the aforementioned immanence<\/em>, so that it\u2019s all simultaneous, so that the existing modes are always reciprocally presupposing the other existing modes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Simply put, without God <\/em>or substance<\/em> there is nothing, not even nothing. Things are the way the are because without it, they just wouldn\u2019t be. It\u2019s as simple as that. Of course, that\u2019s clearly not the same thing as saying that this and\/or that is the way it is or that this and\/or that happened because God willed it. If there is some will or desire involved, it\u2019s immanent, not some external final cause. So, if a stone or, to be more contemporary, a roof tile lands on your head from a roof when you are walking home on a windy day, you could curse God for making it possible, for having conditioned the world in such and such a way that it can happen, but not for singling you out, for fucking you over just because.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He (68, 71) specifies the terms necessary<\/em> or necessity<\/em> and contingent<\/em> or contingency<\/em>. Something is necessary<\/em> because otherwise it wouldn\u2019t be the way it is. It would be impossible<\/em> for it to be anything else, which is why it\u2019s necessary<\/em>. If something isn\u2019t necessary, it\u2019s only because our understanding of the states of affairs, why something is the way it is or, rather, appears to us the way it does, is limited. It\u2019s the same with when we are assessing something that happens. So, something is contingent<\/em> when we are in doubt of whether something is necessary. For example, if a stone or a roof tile lands on your head, all that matters is that it did land on your head and something happened for it to land on your head. Either it did or didn\u2019t land on your head. This also means that either something happened for it to land on your head or something which would have let to it didn\u2019t happen. That\u2019s necessity <\/em>and impossibility<\/em> in a nutshell.<\/em> Of course, it might have been a stone or a roof tile, or something else, that landed on your head and killed you, but we simply don\u2019t know what it was because there\u2019s nothing that would indicate this in the proximity of your body, no stone, no roof tile, or whatever it might be, to be found by your dead body. We do know that something killed you, that something must have happened for you to die, that\u2019s necessary<\/em>, but we don\u2019t know enough to be sure, so the circumstances of your death remain contingent<\/em>. There are many possible<\/em> scenarios. In short, inasmuch as we know something to be the way it is or to have happened the way it happened, we are dealing with necessity<\/em>, but inasmuch as we don\u2019t know something to be the way it is or to have happened the way it happened, we are dealing with contingency<\/em>. This all makes sense and I agree with him on this. That said, I think it\u2019s worth keeping in mind that we can never be certain of what\u2019s what, nor what happened, because we are finite beings, limited in many ways, which, I\u2019d say, makes everything appear contingent<\/em> to us. I think he is right about things being necessary, actually so and so, but to us they are only virtually so and so because we can\u2019t know for sure, hence the contingency<\/em>. He is actually very explicit about this later on, when he (116) states that things truly are the way they, never contingent, always necessary, but when \u201cwe consider things, whether in respect to the future or the past,\u201d we consider them \u201cas contingent.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Moving from that example, when it comes to finite<\/em> things, us humans included, they are always conditioned and thus owe their existence and their capacity to act by something other than themselves, which in turn is conditioned the same way by something other than themselves, ad infinitum<\/em>, as he (67) points out. These are the aforementioned modes<\/em>. This makes sense, considering that, according to a dictionary, such as the Oxford English Dictionary, a mode is not definable in itself but only through something else, as a mode of something (OED, s.v. \u201cmode\u201d, n.).<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He (82) also clarifies that a body<\/em> is a mode, but not all modes are bodies as an idea<\/em> is also a mode. To him (82), a body is also an extended thing<\/em>, whereas a thing<\/em> is whatever makes us understand it as a thing, so that if whatever makes us understand it as such, its essence<\/em>, is removed, it\u2019s no longer a thing. He (82) adds that an idea is also a thing, but it is not an extended thing. It\u2019s a thinking thing<\/em> or, as I would call it, a thought. He (82) stresses the importance of understanding ideas as conceptions<\/em> as opposed to perceptions<\/em> because the former implies active involvement whereas the latter implies passive reception. In short, bodies are modes of extension<\/em>, whereas ideas or thoughts are modes of thought<\/em>. That said, while they can be distinguished from one another, as they clearly are, he (86) notes that, in a way, they are \u201cone and the same thing\u201d because there is only one substance. What differentiates or distinguishes them from one another is that they are \u201cexpressed in two ways\u201d, through two different attributes of the same substance, as he (86-87) goes on to add.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He (83) adds a couple of further clarifications, which I won\u2019t cover here in full detail. I\u2019ll skip some, just like I did with eternity<\/em> when providing other definitions related to the perfection of God or substance. He (83) mentions duration<\/em>, which \u201cis the indefinite continuance of existing.\u201d This should be familiar to you if you\u2019ve ever read something written by Henri Bergson. Anyway, Spinoza (83) defines duration as necessary for the existence of things, but it\u2019s indefinite because it can\u2019t be understood by assessing this and\/or that thing, because, well, things are definite, not indefinite. He (83) equates reality<\/em> and perfection<\/em>, which means that reality is substance<\/em>, because substance is God <\/em>and God is perfect. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Particularly importantly, he (83, 95) also adds that a number of particular things<\/em> can also constitute another particular thing<\/em>, a compound<\/em>, inasmuch they co-occur, so that they are an effect, not separately but together. He doesn\u2019t specify it here, but following his own definitions, this means that they can be bodies and\/or ideas and that any a number of particular things can be understood as a thing, which, in turn, can understood as a part of another particular thing with other particular things, and so on and so on. So, for example, a chair is a chair as what makes it a table makes it a chair and not something else, let\u2019s say a stool or a bench, but when we assess these particular things, the chair, the stool and the bench, they can be considered to be seats. Seats can also be understood to be other particular things, as furniture, if we consider them in combination with other particular things, for instance, long flat surfaces that hold items, such tables, desks and shelves, or people, such as beds. We could also work our way back, to assess which things result in things we know as chairs, stools, benches, tables, desks, shelves or beds, followed by further assessment of what makes those particular things constitute other particular things. In addition, we could take something like an A4 sheet of paper and fold it a number of times, in a certain way, so that it becomes a leaflet, a pamphlet or a booklet (although the more you fold it, the smaller the pages become so that it\u2019s a bit questionable whether you can render an A4 sheet of paper into a booklet), the point being that the thing in question, the sheet of paper, does not change much, but it changes enough so that our conception of it changes. In other words, it would appear that particular things can and do consist of not only bodies but also ideas. I reckon this makes sense, considering that, in a way, one is talking about the same thing, but only in two ways, through the two attributes, as already mentioned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When it comes to humans, he (83) states that they exist or don\u2019t exist, inasmuch as they do or don\u2019t, just like any other body <\/em>or extended thing<\/em>. That said, what makes humans humans and not, say, chairs, is that they think, as he (83) goes on to add. It\u2019s worth keeping in mind that, for him, extension and thought are attributes. This means that humans can be understood as existing in two modes, which, in turn, means that without a body, there is no human. It also means that without thinking, there is no human. But what does he mean by thinking and thoughts? Are thoughts or ideas what someone thinks, what they focus on, or so to speak, or is it anything that just comes to you, somehow, willingly or unwillingly? He (83) clarifies this by adding that there are several modes of thought or thinking, for example love and desire. In other words, thought or thinking is much more broadly conceived by him than what people might generally associate with thought or thinking, which is also the case with bodies, as already discussed. He doesn\u2019t specify this, but he (83) does note that bodies can be \u201caffected in many ways\u201d, but always involving bodies and\/or modes of thought, because those are the only modes of the attributes that humans have access to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When it comes to bodies<\/em>, that is to say extended things<\/em>, he (93-94) emphasizes how they are in movement<\/em>, moving or resting, at various speeds, quickly or slowly, which is what distinguishes them from one another. This aspect is important because if this wasn\u2019t the case, each body or extended thing would simply be the same, sharing in the same attribute, which in this case is extension<\/em>. It\u2019s also worth noting that when we think of the movement of a body, we shouldn\u2019t think of it in isolation from other bodies. In other words, it\u2019s important to realize that the bodies are in relation to one another, some moving slowly, others moving quickly, coming together to a certain extent, composing and decomposing into various compounded bodies that may also compose and decompose into various compounded bodies, ad infinitum<\/em>, so that we can think of reality as this ever composing and decomposing infinite set of bodies, as he (96) goes on to note.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\u2019m skipping ahead again, to a point where he (107) notes that when it comes to duration<\/em>, all things, humans included, not only do they have finite existence, but they also exist for as long as they do, until they don\u2019t. Our understanding of the duration of their existence is limited and, in his (107) words, \u201cvery inadequate\u201d. Anyway, what matters is that he (107) states that \u201call particular things are contingent and perishable.\u201d This only makes sense, considering that if this was not the case, if things didn\u2019t have finite existence, bodies would not be able to compose and decompose.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But what about what makes this or that thing appear to us as distinct from some other thing? Well, he (109) reminds us that things are the way they are, perfect in their own right, so this and\/or that is distinct from what else is there, because, well, reality<\/em> is, in itself, always perfect. That said, he (109) also reminds us that insofar as we humans are concerned, it appears to us inadequately, as a confused mass of a bit of this and a bit of that. He (109) notes that this has to do with the very definition of a finite thing, which, as already discussed, can only be understood through some other thing, which, in turn, can be understood through some other thing, and so on and so on, ad infinitum<\/em>. What\u2019s here important here is that this also means that things are distinct, yet they are alike, some more, some less, as he (109-110) goes on to explain. He (111) also adds that we humans understand things better, distinctively as this or that, the more we have in common with what else is there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What I find particularly interesting about this aspect is what he (111-112) mentions in passing, in a two page long side note. He (111) states that we can only imagine<\/em>, to recollect or bring back, so a limited number of images <\/em>because the number of images we can produce is limited. That makes sense, considering that we are finite things, just like everything else, hence our imagination is going to be limited as well. Humans are imperfect. That said, we do encounter a vast number of things all the time. We don\u2019t run into problems stating that. I know what\u2019s what and I can comprehend the vividness of reality<\/em>. Instead, we run into problems when we try to keep tabs with it all. That\u2019s when things get confused. What he (112) means by this is that there\u2019s just so much detail to that we encounter that we have a sensory overload, which forces us to reduce the complexity of reality into limited sets of things and to rely on various generalizations that we get from our experience, which, of course, varies between people. Simply put, we rely on notions such as \u201cman, horse, dog\u201d, and the like, as he (112) points out, even though they are pretty senseless when you think of it. They are, of course, useful, but the images they conjure are quite generic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Summarizing this, as he (113) does, we get knowledge<\/em> from our experiences<\/em>. This can be gained through our senses, but it can equally well be gained through existing knowledge that is shared with others, typically either in spoken or written form, as he (113) points out. This makes sense, considering that what other express is also based on they\u2019ve learned from others or sensed themselves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There are three kinds of knowledge<\/em> for Spinoza. In his (113) view, the first kind of knowledge is based on opinion<\/em> or imagination<\/em>, the second kind is based on reason<\/em> and the third kind is based on intuition<\/em>. Highly importantly, the first kind of knowledge is always inadequate or confused to some extent, for reasons already discussed, whereas the second and third kinds of knowledge are always adequate, as he (114) goes on to point out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He (66, 260) further comments on knowledge<\/em>, stating that \u201c[t]he more we understand particular things, the more we understand God<\/em>\u201d, that is to say substance or reality, considering that \u201c[i]ndividual things are nothing but modifications of [its] attributes \u2026, ore modes by which the attributes \u2026 are expressed in a fixed and definite manner.\u201d So, the more experience you have of the world, the more it would appear that you know. The good thing is that there is no shortage of this first kind of knowledge. The bad thing is that this kind of knowledge is always in the making. It\u2019s always incomplete, muddled and confused. In other words, while you can learn to better understand the world through examining its particulars, that\u2019s going to be a never ending task. You can never be entirely sure whether you understand it all, whether you managed to piece it all together. It\u2019s all so particular that it\u2019s never going to be adequate. This is also why he prefers the second kind of knowledge (reason<\/em>) over this first kind of knowledge (imagination<\/em>).<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For him (109, 113), what\u2019s in common between the particulars, what we can reason from them, is much more important and useful than assessing each particular, one by one, in order to understand reality. I\u2019d say it\u2019s also far more efficient and makes a whole lot more sense than compiling a list of various particulars. That said, he (93, 109) realizes that, on its own, this kind of knowledge is kind of pointless because it doesn\u2019t pertain to anything particular, because whatever happens to be \u201ccommon to all<\/em>\u201d, for example that \u201c[a]ll bodies agree in certain respects\u201d, \u201cand which is equally in a part and in the whole, does not constitute the essence of any particular thing<\/em>.\u201d Simply put, while certainly useful, this kind of knowledge doesn\u2019t tell us about anything particular. It\u2019s more like focusing on the relations between things, what does and doesn\u2019t connect them, than about the things. It\u2019s interesting, yes, but what do we do with that? What do we do with, for example, all bodies agreeing with one another in certain respects? Where does that lead us? How does it help us to make sense of the world?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This lack of specificity in the second kind of knowledge (reason<\/em>) leads him (260) consider the third kind of knowledge (intuition<\/em>) as the most useful and the most valuable to people. Now, the problem with intuition<\/em>, what Spinoza calls the third kind of knowledge, is that it\u2019s very hard to explain. What is it? I wouldn\u2019t say it\u2019s this or that, but rather something that just happens. So, to me, intuition is something immediate. Either you get it or you don\u2019t. You can\u2019t really explain it. Everything just is, everything just appears to you, without any explicit reflection, you know, like a singularity<\/em>. It\u2019s highly useful, on a personal level, considering that all the sudden things make perfect sense, but being irreducible, it\u2019s not something that you can render into other uses, which will probably bother people who don’t get it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\u2019ll let someone smarter than me explain what\u2019s the deal with intuition<\/em>. Deleuze explains this in the second known session of his course on Spinoza (dated December 2, 1980, available as part of \u2018Seminar on Spinoza: The Velocities of Thought\u2019). In short, Deleuze likens intuition<\/em> to \u201ca bolt of lightning.\u201d He considers Spinoza\u2019s third kind of knowledge to be present when things are \u201cgoing at full speed.\u201d He jumps into something else, sort of related, only to return to discuss intuition on his ninth lecture of this seminar (dated February 3, 1981).<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Right, Deleuze makes note of Spinoza\u2019s three kinds of knowledge (imagination<\/em>, reason<\/em>, intuition<\/em>), as already discussed. He comments on the first kind, noting that it deals with an aggregate that he calls \u201cthe world of signs\u201d. He also comments on the second kind, noting that it also deals with an aggregate, but this time it\u2019s the aggregate of \u201ccommon notions\u201d. To make more sense of common notions<\/em>, Deleuze asks his audience to keep in mind that an abstract idea<\/em> is not the same as a general idea<\/em>. For him, an abstract idea involves abstraction<\/em>, which has to do with \u201can operation that consists of separating through thought what is inseparable in the representation\u201d, whereas a general idea involves \u201ca relation that suits several things.\u201d So, the problem with abstract ideas or abstractions is that there are none, as he goes on to point out. That\u2019s why they are always empty. They don\u2019t work because they involve separating what\u2019s inseparable, which results in something that just doesn\u2019t make any sense, as he also points out. Anyway, to get back on track here, common notions<\/em> are not to be confused with essences<\/em>, which appear to us through the third kind of knowledge, through intuition, what he calls \u201cthe knowledge of essences.\u201d This is the aforementioned lack of specificity that plagues the second kind of knowledge (reason).<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It\u2019s also important to note that we move from one to the other, from the first kind to the second kind by making note of what\u2019s common between this and that, and from the second kind to the third kind by realizing that while we may have all kinds of things in common with one another, we, \u201cyou, me, this table, \u2026 the little cat, the dog\u201d, etc., are all nonetheless distinct, singular<\/em>, if you will, as Deleuze points out. This can also be explained the other way around, as he does, as \u201cyou are not only a singular essence\u201d but also \u201can aggregate of relations\u201d so that everything is, me and you included, an aggregate of parts, which are themselves aggregates of parts, and so on, and so on, ad infinitum<\/em>, composed in certain way that expresses its essence. What\u2019s curious or interesting about this is that the parts appear to depend on the relations rather than existing on their own, so the parts may change and do change, but in a way that the essence is retained, as he goes on to point out. We are great examples of this. Our bodies appear to regenerate, to a limited degree of course as our lives are finite, but, oddly enough we appear to retain our essence, as also mentioned by him as an example.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The superiority of this third kind of knowledge should by now be apparent from what I\u2019ve covered from Deleuze\u2019s lectures. The way I would put it is that you no longer define this or that, whatever it is that you encounter, as representing some abstract idea, but as a \u201ccomposed relation\u201d, as \u201ca collectivity\u201d, as he might put it. So, as strange as it might sound, there is no objectivity<\/em>, nor subjectivity<\/em>, no objective<\/em> views, nor subjective<\/em> views, only collectivity<\/em> and collective<\/em> views. This does not, however, mean that there is only one collective, but a plethora of collectives that we are composed of. So, oddly enough, you are you, just as I am I, not because you are one and I am one, as a given, but because what makes us one is that we are always many. As Deleuze (3) puts it, alongside F\u00e9lix Guattari (3), in \u2018A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia\u2019, \u201c[w]e are no longer ourselves\u201d, yet \u201c[e]each will know his own\u201d as \u201ceach of us [is] several\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Deleuze returns to this issue of parts and composition in the following lecture, lecture ten (dated February 10, 1981). He states that there are three dimensions or layers to what constitutes something, for example an individual, like me or you. Firstly, for Spinoza, this or that consists of parts, which, in turn, also consist of parts and so on, and so on, ad infinitum<\/em>, as already discussed. If you ask me, this isn\u2019t all that surprising. It just makes sense, which is why I\u2019ve applied this logic in my own work. Secondly, these parts belong to whatever they constitute inasmuch as they do, according to whatever it is that retains them as distinctively this or that. In other words, the relation of the parts is what defines the essence of this or that, not the parts themselves. Deleuze acknowledges that it\u2019s not clear cut to assess what it is that makes this or that, for example a particular table that particular table. I agree.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
To expand on his example, if I were to replace one of the legs of my table with another leg, would it still be the same table? Maybe, maybe not. I\u2019m not sure how assess that, what the criteria for that would even be. He wonders \u201cwhat does this question mean?\u201d, only to answer his own question with a question: \u201cIt means, according to what reasons do any parts whatsoever belong to a given body?\u201d Now, that doesn\u2019t give you any clear criteria, so how do you deal with it? My answer is that you just do. It\u2019s intuitive<\/em>. If it seems right, it is right, and if it doesn\u2019t seem right, it isn\u2019t right. If you struggle with this, I reckon it will make more sense if you exemplify this with someone you know instead of some table that probably doesn\u2019t mean that much to you anyway. What is it that makes that person that person?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Thirdly, not only do things consist of parts, which also consist of parts, but they are also themselves parts. This also means that as everything is a part of substance that is, in Spinoza\u2019s view, all powerful, so that each part is not only extensive<\/em>, having certain dimensions, but also intensive<\/em>, having certain power, that is to say a certain capacity to act (in the broadest sense of the word), if I\u2019m not mistaken. If that\u2019s hard to comprehend, it\u2019s worth keeping in mind that you can always divide something that is extensive, but not something that is intensive. That\u2019s the difference between something that is divisible<\/em>, a dividual<\/em>, and something that is indivisible<\/em>, an individual<\/em>. This is also not about this or that quality<\/em>, nor about quantity<\/em>, as qualifying something as this or that already involves qualifying it as a part, which consists of parts and functions as a part of something else. This does not mean that things, people included, don\u2019t have extensive parts, that they aren\u2019t constituted in a certain way, but rather that you can\u2019t explain them simply as sums of their parts. He jumps through a lot of hoops to explain this during the lecture, that Spinoza\u2019s formulation is not about sums, but about relations, how something is composed or decomposed. That doesn\u2019t negate the parts, as you do need them, only subordinates them to relations so that the parts only make sense relationally.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Deleuze further comments on Spinoza\u2019s take on parts and wholes during this tenth lecture. So, as already mentioned, something can function as a part of something else, forming a compound, but it can also be understood as a compound consisting of parts. When Spinoza mentions great number of this or that, as he does in \u2018Ethics\u2019, he isn\u2019t giving us any clear number, only a number that is so large that it exceeds what can be expressed in numbers. That\u2019s infinity<\/em>. Anyway, to get to the point, Deleuze stresses the importance of understanding parts and wholes in terms of sets or collections that are infinite<\/em>. That means that there is no smallest nor largest set of sets or collection of collections. There is no end to it, as even the ends are always infinite, as he goes on to clarify. Simply put, something can always be smaller or larger than something else. He also warns us not confuse this with what we can sense as it appears that we do have certain limitations. I think Spinoza would agree with this, considering that, for him, humans are indeed limited certain ways and thus have a limited capacity to act. Anyway, so, Deleuze makes note of a threshold which seems to exist for us, so that we can only sense and think of something that is so or so small, the atom minimum, but we can\u2019t go beyond that. Then again, that\u2019s only because you aren\u2019t thinking in terms of relations. This is also why Deleuze emphasizes the importance of realizing that infinity<\/em> or \u201cactual infinity\u201d has no beginning nor an end, that is to say that it has no ends, in plural. It stands in opposition to finity<\/em>, which has a beginning and an end, that is to say that it has ends, and to indefinity<\/em> (indefiniteness), which has a beginning but no end, that is to say it has an end but not the end.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
If this no beginning nor end business seems familiar to you, it\u2019s, perhaps, because it is. For example, think of how Deleuze and Guattari, (21-22) state in \u2018A Thousand Plateaus\u2019 that \u201c[a] plateau is always in the middle, not at the beginning or the end\u201d and that \u201cGregory Bateson uses the word \u2018plateau\u2019 to designate \u2026 a continuous, self-vibrating region of intensities who development avoids any orientation toward a culmination point or external end.\u201d Think also how they (21, 25) state that \u201c[a] rhizome is made of plateaus\u201d and that \u201c[a] rhizome has no beginning or end; it is always in the middle, between things, interbeing, intermezzo<\/em>\u201d, as well as how they (263) state that \u201c[a] haecceity has neither beginning nor end, origin nor destination\u201d, as \u201cit is always in the middle\u201d, \u201cnot made of points, only lines\u201d, which makes \u201c[i]t \u2026 a rhizome.\u201d This also means that, for them (25), questions such as \u201c[w]here are you going?\u201d, \u201c[w]here are you coming from?\u201d, \u201c[w]hat are you heading for?\u201d and the like \u201care totally useless questions.\u201d It\u2019s also why it\u2019s very important for them (25) that the middle, what they (21, 426) also call milieu<\/em>, is never localizable, between this and that thing, but just in between. They (507) even mention Spinoza as someone who surveys everything in the middle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Moving on, Spinoza (115) further specifies how knowledge<\/em> works. So, for example, when we assert something, let\u2019s say that a roof tile landed on a man\u2019s head and killed him, it is true, in itself. Note that this is not a statement of facts. Maybe Spinoza has witnessed such, but I haven\u2019t. This is a made up example. We only consider whether that holds on its own and it most certainly does. We can\u2019t go against that, saying that it didn\u2019t kill him or that it didn\u2019t land on his head because then we aren\u2019t even saying the same thing. We are then saying another thing, which, in itself, of course holds, in its own light, of course. This is why he (115) stresses the importance of \u201cthe very act of understanding\u201d, that, in order to be \u201csure of a thing\u201d, we need to \u201cbe first sure of that thing\u201d. In other words, the truth of the thing is immanent to the act, so that light is light because it is light, understood as such, and not darkness, as he (115) points out. As truth is immanent to the act, this of course also means that \u201ca true idea has no more reality than a false idea\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
If this also seems familiar to you, it\u2019s probably because it is, at least sort of. I don\u2019t know about others, but this makes me think of what became known as Speech Act Theory. In Spinoza\u2019s treatment, we aren\u2019t simply presenting information, as if we recognized this and\/or that as something and not something else, thus confirming or denying its presence, but doing things with words, as J. L. Austin might express it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Spinoza (123, 125) exemplifies this with someone who speaks of \u201ca winged horse\u201d. We know that there are no winged horses or, rather, that there are no winged horses that we know of. We have never actually encountered winged horses. We have no experience of such. That said, that doesn\u2019t mean that there are no winged horses or, rather, that there has never been winged horses or that there will never be winged horses. Maybe, maybe not. This is all contingent <\/em>because knowledge is based on experience, as already discussed. This means that it\u2019s always correct to speak of winged horses, regardless of the circumstances, whether such exist, have existed or will exist, as what matters is that winged horses are immanent to the act of speaking about winged horses. There\u2019s no claim beyond to what is said. This also means that it is correct to speak of winged horses if the circumstances permit to speak of such and claim that they do exist. What are such circumstances then? If there appears to be winged horses, then, well, there are winged horses, unless there is something else that makes it apparent to us that there aren\u2019t winged horses, as he (125) goes on to point out. In his (125) exact words:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\u201cFor what is the perception of a winged horse, save affirming that a horse has wings? If the mind could perceive nothing else but the winged horse, it would regard the same as present to itself: it would have no reasons for doubting its existence, nor any faculty of dissent, unless the imagination of a winged horse be joined to an idea which precludes the existence of the said horse, or unless the mind perceives that the idea which it possess of a winged horse is inadequate, in which case it will either necessarily deny the existence of such a horse, or will necessarily be in doubt on the subject.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
As this is or was just me or my take on this, I did a quick search. It appears that at least George Henry Radcliffe Parkinson and Jack MacIntosh seem to agree with my take. MacIntosh makes note of this in \u2018Spinoza\u2019s Epistemological Views\u2019. He (38) argues that \u201cfor Spinoza ideas had, and could not but have, illocutionary forces attached to them\u201d, so that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\u201cIf you have such an image or perception, Spinoza is suggesting, this, in the absence of some countering notion, amounts to an affirmation that there really is such a horse within your visual field.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
In other words, if it appears to be the case then it is the case, unless it doesn\u2019t appear to be the case, which means that then it isn\u2019t the case. It may also be that the conditions change so that something no longer appears to as such, so that it appears to us as something else, which, of course may also come to appear to us as something else if the conditions of its apparition change. This is why Parkinson (39) points out in \u2018\u201cTruth Is Its Own Standard\u2019: Aspects of Spinoza\u2019s Theory of Truth\u201d that a chimera may exist, inasmuch there is a body that is in a certain state. So, if there is a thing, let\u2019s say me, that comes to think that such a creature exists, it exists, not because chimeras really exist, to the best of our knowledge that is, but because whatever things push me come to think that it exists.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Parkinson (42-43) also warns us not to oversimplify things, to assert that what Spinoza is saying is the same what Austin is saying. That said, there is a certain familiar ring to Spinoza if you\u2019ve read Austin. There\u2019s a degree of affinity between them. That\u2019s how I\u2019d put it. Parkinson (42-43) points out that this has to do with how Austin assesses speech acts<\/em> in terms of their happiness\/unhappiness or felicity\/infelicity. To make sense of that, if you are not familiar with it already, we make sense of what\u2019s been said on the basis of the context, on the basis of what else is there, or so to speak. This means that we may even encounter someone saying something that we can comprehend, okay, but it just doesn\u2019t make sense in that context, as he (43) points out. For example, I can say something like \u201cI sentence you to prison for eight eight years for \u2026\u201d but it won\u2019t have an effect on you because I\u2019m not a judge, nor are you on trial. It would take a judge and you being on trial for that to make sense. Now, as noted by Parkinson (43), I\u2019d say that Spinoza isn\u2019t really concerned with who can say what and in what circumstances, for it to have an effect or no effect, legit or not, but with whether this or that holds in its own right, whether chimeras exist or not, which is a much more general concern.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Spinoza (108-109) also notes that people tend to have a certain way of thinking about freedom<\/em>, which he disagrees with. This also makes sense, if one considers what I\u2019ve already covered about freedom in this essay. So, he (108) reckons that people tend to think that freedom is about having consciousness<\/em> of one\u2019s own actions, about willing<\/em> this and\/or that. The problem with that is that it ignores what conditions each and everyone of us, so that, as he (108-109) puts it, freedom is merely about \u201cignorance of any cause for [one\u2019s] actions.\u201d As he (109) goes on to point out, this is particularly problematic because it\u2019s basically attributing one\u2019s actions to an empty abstraction. It\u2019s empty because it\u2019s never explained what will<\/em> is. In other words, attributing your actions to your will functions just like attributing something to the will of God.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Right, I went through parts one and two of Spinoza\u2019s \u2018Ethics\u2019 and some bits from the other books. I previously hadn\u2019t given much thought to going through this book, definition by definition, proposition by proposition, proof by proof, postulate by postulate, axiom by axiom, lemma by lemma, note by note, followed by going back and forth between it all, because the way it\u2019s written, in Euclidian fashion, appeared dreary to me. That said, I was pleasantly surprised by how I liked the way it is written, even though I still think that it\u2019s a bit of a bore. It\u2019s a tough read, that\u2019s for sure, but not as tough as I expected it to be. You just sort of have endure the boring and convoluted bits, which will then be further clarified in the more loosey-goosey notes. I\u2019m also not entirely sure that I understand it all. I hope I do, but, well, I wouldn\u2019t be surprised if there\u2019s something that\u2019s off in this essay. In terms of the content, what I got out of this, it\u2019s interesting how some of the stuff reminds me a lot of what\u2019s discussed in the 1900s and the 2000s, some 300 years later. I think it\u2019s fair to say that this book was far ahead of its time and probably still is.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But why go through the effort of reading his work to discuss whether God wills it or not? Well, my answer is that it\u2019s irrelevant what it is that we ground our arguments on, whatever it is what we call it, if it functions the same way. You can substitute God or god(s), feel free to choose your deity, with something like nature, culture, humanity, ideology, structure or economy and nothing changes. I\u2019d say that even landscape and discourse can be put into use the same way. Alfred North Whitehead explains the issue with such aptly in his book \u2018Process and Reality: An Essay in Cosmology\u2019 when he (20) notes that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\u201cIt is a complete mistake to ask how [a] concrete particular fact can be built up out of universals.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
What one needs to do instead is to do the exact opposite, as he (20) points out:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\u201c[T]o explain the emergence of the more abstract things from the more concrete things.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
In more simple terms, when we deal with abstractions<\/em>, if we have to, we are always tasked to explain them, from what they are abstracted from. If we look at a dictionary definition for abstract (OED, s.v. \u201cabstract\u201d, adj.), it is typically used as the opposite of concrete, so that we might as well talk about concepts. It (OED, s.v. \u201cabstract\u201d, n.) can also be used in the sense that it\u2019s a summary form of something, like when you abstract or extract something, for example through distillation or condensation (OED, s.v. \u201cabstract\u201d, v.). So, Whitehead (20) is basically saying the same as Deleuze (or, rather, the other way around, Deleuze says the same as Whitehead, not to be anachronistic), that abstractions don\u2019t exist as such, a priori<\/em>, because what we consider to be abstractions are always abstracted from something. To put this in Spinozist terms, we are never dealing with abstractions. Instead, we are always dealing with common notions, the second kind of knowledge that we get to through the first kind of knowledge by making note of what\u2019s common between this and or that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
To wrap things up, for now, as I might delve deeper into this later on, going through the other parts of Spinoza\u2019s \u2018Ethics\u2019, I think it\u2019s also worth noting that like with everything else, you don\u2019t have to agree with everything he has to say about whatever it is that he is dealing with in this book. It\u2019s the same with this essay. For example, I wish the movement from one kind of knowledge to another would be explained in more detail. I felt like I was left hanging. I had to piece it together by myself. I don\u2019t mind that, as such, as it makes me think, but I felt it was a bit sloppy of him, considering the rigor of his approach in this book.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
References<\/h4>\n\n\n\n
\n
- Austin, J. L. ([1955] 1962). How to Do Things with Words<\/em> (J. O. Urmson, Ed.). Oxford, United Kingdom: Oxford University Press.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
- Deleuze, G. ([1980] 2020). Spinoza: The Velocities of Thought \/ 02 (C. J. Stivale, Trans.). https:\/\/deleuze.cla.purdue.edu\/seminars\/spinoza-velocities-thought\/lecture-02<\/li>\n\n\n\n
- Deleuze, G. ([1981] 2020). Spinoza: The Velocities of Thought \/ 09 (C. J. Stivale, Trans.). https:\/\/deleuze.cla.purdue.edu\/seminars\/spinoza-velocities-thought\/lecture-09-0<\/li>\n\n\n\n
- Deleuze, G. ([1981] 2020). Spinoza: The Velocities of Thought \/ 10 (C. J. Stivale, Trans.). https:\/\/deleuze.cla.purdue.edu\/seminars\/spinoza-velocities-thought\/lecture-10<\/li>\n\n\n\n
- Deleuze, G., and F. Guattari ([1980] 1987). A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia<\/em> (B. Massumi, Trans.). Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
- MacIntosh, J. J. ([1971] 1972). Spinoza’s Epistemological Views. In G. Vesey, M. Brodbeck, P. T. Geach, J. J. MacIntosh, H. Ishiguro, S. C. Brown, V. C. Chappell, W. H. Walsh, A. Manser, J. Watling, D. W. Hamlyn, D. Murray, G. H. R. Parkinson, D. Lyons and J. Kemp, Royal Institute of Philosophy Lectures, Vol. 5 1970\/1971: Reason and Reality<\/em> (pp. 28\u201348). London, United Kingdom: The Macmillan Press.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
- Oxford English Dictionary<\/em> Online <\/em>(n. d.). Oxford, United Kingdom: Oxford University Press.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
- Parkinson, G. H. R. (1972). “Truth Is Its Own Standard”: Aspects of Spinoza’s Theory of Truth. The Southwestern Journal of Philosophy<\/em>, 8 (3), 35\u201355.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
- Sartre, J-P. ([1943] 1992). Being and Nothingness: An Essay on Phenomenological Ontology<\/em> (H. E. Barnes, Trans.). New York, NY: Washington Square Press.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
- Spinoza, B. ([1667] 1884). The Ethics. In B. Spinoza, The Chief Works of Benedict de Spinoza, Vol. II<\/em> (R. H. M. Elwes, Trans.) (pp. 43\u2013271). London, United Kingdom: George Bell and Sons.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
- Whitehead, A. N. ([1929] 1979). Process and Reality: An Essay in Cosmology<\/em> (D. R. Griffin and D. W. Sherburne, Eds.). New York, NY: The Free Press.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I was writing another essay, which led me to crawl through Baruch Spinoza\u2019s \u2018Ethics\u2019. There is this bit in Sartre\u2019s \u2018Being and Nothingness\u2019 where he (lvi) makes note of people\u2019s tendency to attribute whatever it is that they fail to explain to the will of God. I\u2019ve mentioned this before, but I\u2019ve mentioned this issue […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3554,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[571,71,123,1467,1464,1461,171,1000],"class_list":["post-2196","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-essays","tag-austin","tag-deleuze","tag-guattari","tag-macintosh","tag-parkinson","tag-sartre","tag-spinoza","tag-whitehead"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2196","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3554"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2196"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2196\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5560,"href":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2196\/revisions\/5560"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2196"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2196"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2196"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}