Spinoza’s remarks on the exemplar or model of human nature, while few and brief, have far-reaching consequences for his ethics. While commentators have offered a variety of interpretations of the model and its implications, there has been near unanimous agreement on one point, that the identity of the model is the free man, described from E4P66S to E4P73. Since the free man is completely self-determining and, thus, perfectly free and rational, this reading indicates that Spinoza’s ethics sets exceptionally high goals, (...) aiming to make us purely active beings. While this conclusion has been embraced in some quarters—particularly by those who see his ethics as aiming to make us like God—it has also been criticized as intolerant of human weakness and vulnerability. Most work on this subject has been concerned to explain what it means for the free man to serve as the model. This is a difficult task, since Spinoza pointedly claims that it is impossible for human beings to become completely self-determining and, thus, free men. Consequently, it is unclear what implications his claims about the free man have for us, ordinary humans. This paper takes a different approach: I will show that reading the free man as the model of human nature, while intuitively appealing, does not stand up to close scrutiny. The argument for this claim has two prongs: the first asserts that there is not sufficient textual evidence to establish that Spinoza intended the free man to serve as the model; the second asserts that this reading is impossible to reconcile with Spinoza’s other philosophical commitments. In particular, Spinoza holds that we pursue the model of human nature, as well as the general ethical goals of attaining our good and perfection, under the guidance of reason. It would be inconsistent with this claim for Spinoza’s ethics to be founded upon attaining a goal that reason reveals as unattainable and, even, confused. In addition to this negative thesis, I will also defend a positive one: the model of human nature should rather be understood as representing the greatest possible perfection of our nature as it is revealed by reason. The free man meanwhile should be understood as working toward a different goal, determining what is good and bad in the emotions. In making this claim, we offer a very different picture of Spinoza’s ethical goals, for reason shows that our nature is conatus, which is a finite mode and, as such, necessarily determined by and passive with respect to other finite modes. Consequently, a model derived from reason will represent the perfection of this nature as passive to some extent. In this way, I provide a picture of Spinoza’s ethics that takes a more sympathetic view of human weakness and vulnerability. (shrink)

The jumping off point for this paper is a metaphysical puzzle for this view and for any relational theory of autonomy. Most of the time, our relationships with others are reciprocal in the sense that they involve activity and passivity, acting on others and being acted on by them. Consequently, claiming that our relationships with others are constitutive of our autonomy implies that being passively affected is also constitutive of our autonomy. But this seems problematic, perhaps even contradictory, because autonomy (...) is equivalent to self-determination, which is a kind of activity: how can being passively affected be constitutive of our self-determination and activity? In Spinoza, the difficulty arises in his theory of striving. Spinoza’s view that relationships are constitutive of our freedom and autonomy implies that our relationships—and being passively affected in these relationships—are constitutive of our striving, in which our freedom and autonomy consist. But how can passivity be constitutive of our striving, which is a kind of activity? -/- To resolve the apparent paradox, I look to the Aristotelian notion that the natures of things make them subject or susceptible to undergoing certain kinds of change. For instance, water, because of its nature, is susceptible to boiling, rather than burning. This implies that a passive or exogenous change—for instance, fire causing the water to boil—is brought about partly from the nature and activity of the patient: the water is active in the sense of determining it to boil, rather than burn. This way of thinking implies that changes arise cooperatively from both internal and external sources, which eliminates the apparent contradiction in claiming that change can be both active and passive. The paper shows that Spinoza’s theory of striving shares the gist of this Aristotelian commitment by claiming that our nature is active in determining us to certain effects, even when the effects originate externally. Consequently, like Aristotle, Spinoza does not see passivity and activity as mutually exclusive, which eliminates the apparent paradox. The paper concludes by considering how this more Aristotelian conception of activity is amenable to relational theories of autonomy. (shrink)

This paper is concerned with Descartes’s view on the passions’ moral value, that is, their value with respect to achieving the ethical ends of virtue and happiness. In this regard, there is no question that the passions possess a kind of conative value because of their power to move or incline us in ways that contribute to ethical ends. This paper’s question is whether the passions also contribute to ethical ends in a cognitive sense by informing us of the moral (...) value of things, in other words, telling us whether things are good or bad with respect to the ends of virtue and happiness. The answer to this question is less clear for two reasons. Firstly, in order for the passions to inform us in this way they would have to be the sort of mental state that purports to tell us the way things are, in other words, that contain some sort of presentation or assessment of things. To borrow language from present day philosophy of mind, they would have to be contentful mental states. But this way of thinking about the passions is opposed by a long tradition, running from Descartes’s contemporaries to today, that regards Cartesian passions as purely conative or appetitive movements, along the lines of Thomistic passions. Secondly, even if the passions are contentful, it is not clear whether their contents accurately report the value of things with respect to ethical goals. Descartes frequently warns that the passions provide unreliable ethical guidance because they report on good and evil with respect to more bodily and animalistic aims: bodily health, self-preservation and the continuation of the species In taking up this question, I am guided by the work of Cambridge Platonist, Henry More. More offered a positive assessment of Descartes’s theory of the passions, which served as the basis for More’s ethical theory in the Enchiridion Ethicum. More’s astute reading of Descartes is useful to my investigation both because he reads the Cartesian passions as contentful mental states and because he uses this reading to explain their accuracy and reliability with respect to virtue. Following More's interpretation, I argue that Descartes recognizes a category of passions—including, most notably, the passion of generosity and the passions following from it—that are more ethically reliable and that serve roughly the same ethical functions as the affections of More's boniform faculty. (shrink)

Schmaltz’s excellent book tells a story unfamiliar to most English speaking historians of philosophy. The historical aspect of the story centers on Louis XIV’s 1671 decree opposing anti-Aristotelianism. The decree spoke to the growing popularity of Descartes’s philosophy during the twenty years after his death. Schmaltz examines two figures central to the dissemination and reinterpretation of Descartes’ philosophy at this time: Robert Desgabets and Pierre-Sylvain Regis. The Benedictine Desgabets played an important role in defending Descartes’s controversial views on the eucharist, (...) arguably the catalyst for the 1671 decree. His disciple, Regis, elaborated and propagated Desgabets’s brand of Cartesianism in the face of the political firestorm generated by the decree. (shrink)