Letters on evil (part 2)

Where our letter writers, Blijenbergh and Spinoza, realize they have less in common than they thought

Vermeer's Procuress, 1656. Apparently the only thing stopping Van Blijenbergh of visiting this kind of establishment is his fear of God

This is the second installment of my retellings of the correspondence between grain merchant Willem Van Blijenbergh and recluse lens grinding philosopher Benedict de Spinoza. The first pair of letters, which I summarize here, started with good intentions on both sides to become friends.

In the following letters, our would-be philosophical friends realize that they have very different philosophical principles, which will make communication difficult. There's a decided shift in tone, and darkening of the atmosphere. This will get worse as our correspondence continues in the next installment, with letters 5 and 6.

Note the interesting comments of Spinoza on deprivation and Adam's sin. I think of it this way: when you feel regret, you think you could've done otherwise. For example, imagine at time t I burst out in anger at my spouse, and we fight. At time t+1 I feel regret for that outburst, and I think: I shouldn't have said that. But that is comparing my state (or nature, as Spinoza calls it) at t+1 with my state at t. Now, with my state of mind (I'm calmer), and the knowledge I have at t+1 I think I ought not to have said what I said at time t. But I didn't have all that at time t. Moreover, I couldn't have done otherwise (at least not according to Spinoza).

Letter 3, Van Blijenbergh to Spinoza, Jan 16, 1665, Dordrecht

(Note this letter is super long and so my summary cannot really do justice to it. But I pick out some elements to give you a taste).

Sir and worthy friend,

I had to read your reply several times to let it all sink in. Just a few more questions. But before I ask them, I need to tell you about how I philosophize: (1) I use my reason, (2) I use the revealed word of God. Since even our clearest knowledge is imperfect, I trust the Bible even without my reason.

If I only used my first rule, then I'd have no problem with your arguments. But my second rule leads me to disagree with you on several points. You argue that nothing can happen against God's will. You also say that Adam, eating the apple, went from a state of greater to lesser perfection. But how could you not call this new state more evil?

I have another issue. It seems like in your worldview, humans are as dependent on God as stones and plants. What about human free will? Also, how can you deny that some things are evil in God's eyes? Consider this example: I make love to my wife. God knows it and approves. What if I were to have sex with another woman, against my marital vows? God enables me to have sex, but surely he also knows in that example, it's not with my wife. This is against my marital vows, i.e., my promise to my wife to be faithful, and against God's commandments. So how could God make me commit adultery? Or, suppose someone beat someone else to death. You might say that homicide or extramarital sex is good, but that seems deeply implausible to me. We'd be no more than animals.

Moreover, we deprive ourselves of the very point of religion: its comforts and hopes. If God doesn't consider anything we do as evil, why would he punish us? If he doesn't punish us, what reasons do I have then (insofar as I can keep away from the law) not to commit the most heinous crimes? Why shouldn't I do everything I want and pursue all my carnal desires? Ah, you might say, you should love virtue itself! But what if I am not naturally endowed with such a love of virtue? Look at the kind of argument you're giving in the hands of infidels: we're no better than stones, and our actions are nothing more than an unwinding watch.

I've now discussed my use of the first rule. As regards the second rule, I must say I don't like your view of Scripture. If we shouldn't take the stories literally, why should we suppose God has revealed his true intentions in such a confusing way? Surely it can't have been God's purpose to confuse us all?

There's nothing more delightful to me than to think about our perfect deity. At the same time, I can feel passionately sad when I think about how much my finite intellect lacks. But I can conquer that sadness with the hope that I will live forever. Whenever I contemplate my fleeting existence, and when I think of my death, I can't believe that there will be an end to me. Your writing suggests that there's no afterlife, and when we die, that's it. I pray earnestly to God to confirm that this is not so. My soul is like the hart that thirsts for the fresh brook. If I can look upon God in the afterlife, I will be truly happy.

To be honest with you, I've lost track of your arguments. But I've run out of paper and out of time. I'm sorry to have been so longwinded. I'd be grateful for an answer. As to writing in the language you've been brought up, I can do Latin or French, but I prefer a reply in my own language, since my Latin is not so good.

Your noble and willing servant,

Willem Van Blijenbergh

Letter 4, Spinoza to Van Blijenbergh, Jan 28, 1665, Schiedam

Sir and friend,

When I got your first letter, I assumed we'd get along well, but from your second letter, I understand this won't be the case. I think now there's nothing we can learn from each other through this correspondence. Not only do we disagree about things you can infer from first principles, but even on what these first principles are. If you think Scripture is clearer than the natural light of reason, you have every reason to make your reason subservient to it. I'd do the same in your position. However, I confess I don't understand the Scriptures, though I've spent quite some years studying them.

I'm grateful for your explanation of how you do philosophy, but less grateful for the opinions that you attribute to me. Where did I say that humans are the same as animals? If you had read my letter more attentively, you would have realized that our disagreement is about the nature of God. I don't see God as like some anthropomorphic judge who punishes and rewards. But I admit that people who keep on confusing divine and human nature will find this hard to grasp.

I was going to end my letter here, since its contents could only be a source of merriment to you (given the very pious ending of your previous letter), but here are nevertheless some more clarifications.

First, deprivation is a way we think of things when we compare matters, but not an objective state of affairs. Imagine a blind man. We think he's deprived of sight because we compare him to a sighted man, or perhaps to his prior sighted state. But he's no more able to see at that moment than, say, a stone is able to see. So he is not objectively deprived of sight at that moment. Similarly, Adam after the Fall is different from Adam before the Fall, but he's not deprived. That would be like saying his earlier nature belongs to his present nature.

Your previous letter shows many misunderstandings of both me and Descartes. Your remark that I put humans in one category with elements, plants, and stones just shows the depth of your misunderstanding. You confuse things relating to reason to things relating to imagination.

I can't help but express wonder when you say that if God weren't like a judge who punishes and rewards, nothing would keep people from eagerly committing heinous crimes. Someone who only refrains from this out of fear of divine punishment (I really hope that isn't the case for you), doesn't act out of love or virtue. For my part, I don't do these things because they're not aligned to my nature and they would remove me from knowledge and love of God.

About your second rule: Most theologians realize that you should often not take Scripture literally. It is just imaginative language adapted to the people to lead them to understand the two most important purpose of Scripture, which Christ himself says is to love God above all else, and to love your neighbor as yourself. So, there are no ontradictions in my views of Scripture, whereas there are plenty in yours.

I haven't thought about Descartes since the Dutch translation of my commentary has appeared. Therefore, I have nothing more to say on the matter.

I remain, etc.

B. de Spinoza.