Curiosity, Meditation
Reading Descartes' 'The Search for Truth by means of the Natural Light'. Part III
Our dialogue starts with Polyander speaking, seemingly as if we have entered in the middle of a discussion. The conversation might have already been going on for a long time, but only now do we pick up on it. What has been said before, we do not know, we are led to guess. We confront the text, Polyander is speaking to Epistemon:
“Polyander: I consider you very fortunate to have found all those fine things in the Greek and Latin literature. Indeed, it seems to me that if I had studied as much as you, I should have been as different from my present self as the angels are from you. I cannot forgive the folly of my parents for believing that the pursuit of learning enfeebles the spirit, and for sending me to court and into the army at such an early age, and I shall regret my ignorance for the rest of my life if I do not learn anything through my association with you.”
In the original French, “for believing that the pursuit of learning enfeebles the spirit”, is written as “persuadés que l’exercise des lettres rendait les courages plus lâches.” Literally, for being convinced that the study of letters makes one more cowardly. Polyander’s parents believed that having him pursue learning would make him more into a coward. Right here in the beginning, this cliché opposition between the calm life of letters, and the courageous life of action is conjured up. Polyander’s parents believed that there was a choice to make for their child. Either have him become very knowledgeable, but lacking in manly virtues such as courage, or send him to the army and have him become a courageous and well-developed man, but lacking in extensive knowledge of philosophy, science, the arts, etc. A sacrifice was made. A man of action, or a man of contemplation? And Polyander believes in the absolute character of this opposition, and the impossibility of reconciling knowledge and action. And thus, having accepted his formation as a man of action, he wants to learn from someone who has made the opposite sacrifice, and who has become a man of learning. As we will see, the persona representing Descartes —Eudoxus— will be the one who doesn’t believe in this opposition. One can be a learned man, and be a man of action. Epistemon will not believe this, he thinks you have to choose, and if you want knowledge, you have to devote yourself entirely to the study of letters, sacrificing other skills. Polyander, at the moment trapped within the belief of this opposition, and thus believing himself to be incapable of attaining truth, will gradually be led out of it, and into the frame of mind of Descartes, where action and thought compliment each-other.
Now, Epistemon responds to Polyander:
“Epistemon: The best thing I can tell you on this topic is that the desire for knowledge, which is common to all men, is an illness which cannot be cured, for curiosity grows with learning. But because the defects in the soul trouble a person only in so far as he becomes aware of them, you have an advantage over us in that, unlike us, you do not notice all the many things which you lack.”
There is something quite interesting here in Epistemon’s attitude. He is accepting his own superiority when it comes to knowledge, but he says at the same time: don’t worry, you wouldn’t want to be like me. Ignorance is bliss. For, the more you learn, the more you also become aware of your own ignorance, the more you notice all the aspects in which you are lacking. Remind yourself of what Descartes said in the introduction. That, instead of bringing one closer to truth, the philosophy as taught in the schools only makes you more aware of your own ignorance. We are curious, and thus we set about learning. But, learning does not satisfy our curiosity, rather, it makes it grow. We have this problem —ignorance—, but the cure —learning—, makes the problem even worse.
We should also mention that Epistemon here shows himself the type who is bad at taking praise. Polyander praises him for being so learned, and what does Epistemon say to this? Oh, it is nothing. But, by saying this, he only affirms his belief in his own superiority. ‘Polyander, you are not only uneducated, you also don’t even know what it means to be educated.’
Polyander says: “if I had studied as much as you, I should have been as different from my present self as the angels are from you.” Study makes one into a different and better person. Comparing a learned person to an unlearned person, this would be like comparing angels to humans. But, Epistemon says, this is not the case. In fact, learning only makes you that much more aware of how human and imperfect you are.
Here, we have already set out the problem to which Descartes will respond. The unlearned feel themselves inadequate in finding the truth, and thus they rely on the learned, or they themselves pursue the study of the philosophy of the schools. But what is the result of this? They become even more ignorant, and become even less confident in telling truth from falsity. Let us see what Eudoxus has to say:
“Eudoxus: Is it possible, Epistemon, that you, with all your learning, are persuaded that nature can contain a malady so universal without also providing a remedy for it? For my part, just as I think that each land has enough fruits and rivers to satisfy the hunger and thirst of all its inhabitants, so too I think that enough truth can be known in each subject to satisfy amply the curiosity of orderly souls. The body of a person suffering from dropsy is no further removed from its proper condition than is the mind of someone who is perpetually tormented by an insatiable curiosity.”
Eudoxus is mocking Epistemon. Can it really be the case, he asks, that you are so learned, and yet you think that nature could contain a malady (curiosity) without also offering a remedy (truth) for it?
When we start out learning, we have this consciousness of our own ignorance. But, we also have the belief that, if we were to seriously pursue study, we would be able to discover all the truths we desire, we have the confidence that we will be able to escape our ignorance. But, as time goes on and we learn more, we come to realize that there is so much to know, and for everything that we come to know there is a problem with it, and so on. And gradually we lose this confidence and belief with which we started, we lose the belief that we can effectively escape our own ignorance. And the belief grows in us, that ignorance cannot be cured, but only deepened. And we accept, that the cure that is learning, consists only in deepening the problem. Expand your ignorance, make everything into a problem, this is what philosophy is about. But the truth, you will never get a grasp of it. But Eudoxus is not like us, he has never given up his belief that he can find the truth. He has never given up his confidence. He says:
“Just as each land has enough fruits and rivers to satisfy the hunger and thirst of all its inhabitants, so too I think that enough truth can be known in each subject to satisfy amply the curiosity of orderly souls.”
And he ads, the condition to which philosophy leads according to Epistemon, this perpetual curiosity, this is not the natural condition of the mind, rather it is like a body suffering from dropsy. It is an aberration, a diseased state of the mind, and it can be cured. This problem of ‘curiosity’ that we see set out here in The Search for Truth will mark the entirety of Descartes’ philosophy. In the Passions of the Soul, a treatise on physiology and the passions written later in his life, he says that wonder is a very beneficial passion, and in many senses the first passion.
“Wonder is a sudden surprise of the soul which brings it to consider with attention the objects that seem to it unusual and extraordinary.” (Passions of the Soul, II, §70, p353)
When we encounter something unusual, something ‘new’, which we have never seen before, we do not understand it, we are ignorant about it, and this brings about the passion of wonder, which leads us to investigate this unusual thing in order to gain knowledge of it. In this way, wonder is responsible for having us gain knowledge of an increasing number of things, and it is the passion that sets us on the search for truth. It is the passion without which philosophy would not exist. But, Descartes says, there can also be an excess of wonder, which he calls ‘astonishment’. In this state, we are continuously wondering at new and unfamiliar information, so aware of our own lack of knowledge, that it overwhelms us, and we fail to integrate new knowledge into a coherent whole, we fail to acquire knowledge from it. “As a result the whole body remains as immobile as a statue.” Such an excess of wonder, “can never be other than bad.” (Passions of the Soul, II, §73) It is this excess of wonder, that Descartes diagnoses as the problem of the old philosophy, and Epistemon is the character suffering from it. It is a state in which one is so focussed on all the strange things one doesn’t know, so aware of one’s own ignorance, that one eventually fails to know anything at all. First, one is struck by curiosity or wonder, and one sets out on the search for truth to alchemise this wonder into knowledge. But what actually happens? One only piles wonder on top of wonder, and gets stuck in perpetual astonishment, immobile, never being able to break through to the actual acquisition of knowledge.
“It is owing to their wonder that men both now begin and at first began to philosophize.”, Aristotle says. (Metaphysics, I, 982b) But it should not stay there, Descartes adds. “A man who is puzzled and wonders thinks himself ignorant; therefore they philosophized in order to escape from ignorance.” Says Aristotle, but wouldn’t it be a failed philosophy, if it could never actually escape from this ignorance? Likewise, in the Theaetetus, Plato writes: “this wondering: this is where philosophy begins and nowhere else.” (Plato, Theaetetus, 155d). Descartes would agree, he too designates wonder as the passion responsible for setting man on the path of philosophy, on the search for truth. But wouldn’t it be quite sad if we never get any further than the beginning? The perpetually wondering philosopher, he is the endless beginner, the one who starts over every single day, every time wondering at something new, but never pushing forward, never attaining anything.
Epistemon replies that it is indeed the case that our desire or curiosity should not extend to things which are impossible for human reason to know, and to those things which are “evil or useless.” There are some things which man might never know, and it would be stupidity to desire to know them. And likewise, there are things which are plainly useless to know. It would be stupid to try and know all the names to be found in a phonebook, as an example. Concerning evil, well we can imagine someone desiring to know just of how much evil a person is capable, and thus pursuing evil himself for this end. “But there are so many things to be known which seem to us possible and which are not only good and pleasant but also very necessary for the conduct of our actions; and I cannot believe that anyone ever knows so much that he cannot have good reasons to desire to know more.” So Epistemon basically agrees to then disagree. If we truly seek out all those things worth knowing, then our curiosity is not as easily satisfied as Eudoxus claims. And perhaps, it will never be satisfied.
But Eudoxus retorts, claiming that he truly no longer feels any desire to learn anything at all: “I am as happy with what little knowledge I have as ever Diogenes was in his barrel, and this without having any need for his philosophy.” Descartes is here referring of course to the Ancient Cynic philosopher Diogenes, who it is said lived on the streets of Athens in a barrel, having barely any other possessions. Diogenes sought to live a simple life of wisdom, and for him, true happiness and wisdom was only to be attained by curbing one’s desires. It are those who desire the most fancy things; money, social standing, extensive knowledge, who are most unhappy. But he who does not care about anything but his own soul, and who is content in having only his own nature, this is the truly free and happy man. The man who is freed from desire, this man has attained wisdom. Or so Diogenes thought. We see why Descartes here refers to Diogenes, for in a very vague yet real sense, their ideals are related. Diogenes sought a state of being undisturbed by the passions. And likewise, Descartes will seek a similar state in his theory of knowledge, you should not desire to keep wondering at everything without end, you should be content knowing what you can reasonably come to know by way of the light of your own reason. Philosophy leads to simplicity, both Diogenes and Descartes believe this. And, as we saw, wonder itself is a passion for Descartes. There is much in this reference to Diogenes. Both rejected an all too complex academic knowledge, in favour of following the natural light of their own reason. Both saw themselves as ‘private thinkers’, instead of as learned academics. And both stressed that philosophy must serve to better guide our actions, while very often it leads to the reverse. This is why Diogenes was such a critic of Plato, who according to the Cynic, spent all his time writing lengthy books about virtue, but he never actually made someone live a virtuous life. Hence, Diogenes roamed the streets, not lecturing to people like Plato, but shouting at them, hitting them with his stick, or even urinating on them, to ‘shock’ them into virtue. They do not need to desire more knowledge, and they don’t need more knowledge, this is not the people’s problem Diogenes thought. Rather, they need to stop desiring so much, and start actually thinking for once. And in a similar vein, Descartes will say that our problem is not a lack of knowledge or books, but a lack of thought. We have to stop being so curious about everything there is to know, and start thinking about what we do know. For, very often, those who desire the most knowledge, end up knowing least of all. And, those who desire the most knowledge, end up being the least satisfied of all, suffering from a terrible state of endless curiosity. Is this not similar to those people Diogenes shouted at? Those who sought possession after possession, pleasure after pleasure, but caught in the chase, ended up being the most unhappy of all.
As Eudoxus will say, these philosophers, they have read so much, they are able to ask so many erudite questions, but they don’t even know for certain whether they themselves exist! Descartes, a Cynic? Certainly not, but it is an interesting reference he makes here, which we shouldn’t just gloss over. In fact, by referring to Diogenes, Descartes highlights the opposition he is trying to make between the free-thinker (Eudoxus) who needs only the natural light of his own reason, and the man of books (Epistemon), who desires to have read every book in existence. It is said that Diogenes was in possession of no books. He used to read a lot at some point in his life, but after a while he realized that all that he could find in these books was useless. He realized that all that he needed was his own naturally given reason, and the will to act on the principles taught by his own reason.
If you want to know more about Diogenes, I wrote a three-part series introducing and explaining his philosophy:
Eudoxus continues: “For my neighbour’s knowledge does not limit mine in the way that their fields form the boundaries of my small property. And my mind, having at its disposal all the truths it comes across, does not dream there are others to discover. Instead it enjoys the same tranquility as would a king if his country were so isolated and cut off from others that he imagined there was nothing beyond his frontiers but infertile deserts and uninhabitable mountains.”
Eudoxus truly seems content. For he is content with what he knows, and he does not have an anxious yearning for anything more. Knowing that what he has come to know by his own natural light is all he needs to know, and that anything else that he might come to know is like “infertile deserts and uninhabitable mountains.” He is not attracted to that which has nothing to offer. Epistemon says that if anyone else were to speak to him in such a manner as Eudoxus, he would deem him vain or entirely uninterested in philosophy. But, he knows that Eudoxus has spent many years travelling, learning from the most learned people on the planet, studying the sciences. He knows that Eudoxus has actually acquired knowledge, and this permits him to say that his curiosity is satisfied. But, it seems that Epistemon has not understood. He thinks that Eudoxus has become satisfied because he spent all his years learning, he thinks that it is because Eudoxus has acquired all the knowledge that is to be attained through study, that he is now satisfied. While in actual fact, Eudoxus is content because he ceased seeing value in learning. He did not satisfy his curiosity, rather, he has stopped being overly curious. These are two different things, but Epistemon does not comprehend.
Eudoxus wants to continue the discussion, and he invites both Epistemon and Polyander to stay with him during the summer, so that he has all the time to show the two what he knows. He wants to convince them that he has really satisfied his curiosity for knowledge, and he wants to teach the other men to be satisfied too.
“Eudoxus: For I venture to hope not only that you will admit that I have some reason for being content with my knowledge, but, in addition that you for your part will be fully satisfied with the things you have learned.”
Epistemon gladly accepts the request, and so does Polyander. The latter ads: “I shall be pleased to be present at this discussion, though I do not think myself capable of deriving any profit from it.”
This attitude is characteristic of Polyander, this lack of confidence. He doesn’t feel himself worthy of conversing with these two philosophers. And even more, he doesn’t even think he’ll be able to understand them or learn anything from them. They are like angels, compared to the simple man he is. As we will see, this attitude will change, as Eudoxus will do everything in his power to convince Polyander that he is indeed capable of attaining knowledge, and that he isn’t worse of than the other men. All are equally capable of attaining the truth. This is Eudoxus’ message to Polyander, but it will take some time for the latter to truly start believing it. Especially as Epistemon will continuously try to sabotage Eudoxus’ attempts to make Polyander believe in his own capacities. You will see this throughout the dialogue; Polyander will lighten up, realizing he has attained some truth, but then Epistemon will once again harm his confidence, giving him all sorts of reasons to think himself ignorant. There is a slight ressentiment to be found in Epistemon, he thinks; ‘who does this Polyander believe he is, thinking he has found the truth just in a few short hours of learning from me and Eudoxus, while I have spent my entire life studying. He is not worthy of the truth, but I am.’
We read further, Eudoxus answers to Polyander’s admission of inferiority.
“Eudoxus: On the contrary, Polyander, I think it is you who will gain the greater benefit from it [the conversation], since you are unprejudiced; and it will be far easier for me to set on the right track someone who is neutral than to guide Epistemon, who will often take up the opposite position.”
Here we find the crux of Descartes’ message. Polyander is not in a worse starting position than the other men. To the contrary, he is in a much better position to find the truth. For Epistemon, through all his years of reading, has been filled with prejudices. While Polyander’s mind is ‘empty’. He is a better receptacle for the truth to enter. Epistemon’s mind on the other hand will not accept the truth so easily, for in him there are all sorts of opinions fighting against the truth if it might choose to visit him.
In a dialogue by the 15th century philosopher Nicholas de Cusa, the ‘Idiota de mente’, or ‘the idiot on the mind’, we read a very similar idea. The text portrays a dialogue between a learned philosopher and an ‘idiot’, a layman who spends his time making spoons, but has never enjoyed formal education. The idea of this text is that in fact the idiot is in a much better position to find the truth by way of his own reason, for he is unprejudiced. Whereas the learned man has become so bogged down by different opinions and prejudices, that his natural reason is clouded. It is not sure if Descartes read this dialogue, but it would not surprise me, for De Cusa’s portrayal of two types of thinkers (the idiot and the learned philosopher) is eerily similar to Descartes’ intention in The Search for Truth. In De Cusa’s text, the idiot says:
“I do not think anyone is more easily brought to reveal his insights than me. Precisely because I admit to be an unschooled idiot, I am not afraid to answer. The learned philosophers and those who have a scientific reputation, are afraid to commit errors and are very cautious in sharing their opinions. But when you ask me a question, I will give you a straight answer.”(Nicholas de Cusa, Idiota de Mente. Own English translation, based on a Dutch translation of the Latin)
This is precisely the same benefit that Polyander enjoys. Although, at the beginning of The Search for Truth, Polyander does not see his own ‘idiocy’ as a positive, not yet. And he will need the guidance of Eudoxus to help him believe in his own powers. De Cusa’s Idiot is full of confidence, Descartes’ Polyander is lacking in confidence.
As we will see later on, Eudoxus will make Polyander believe in the certainty of his own existence, through a form of the famous Cartesian proof: “I think, I am”. It is because I am thinking, that I know for certain that I am a thinking thing. Epistemon will object to this, he will say, yes, ‘but what is thinking? And what is being? Do you know this?’ For Descartes this amounts to a sort of stupidity specific to the learned; they know so much, that they have even forgotten that they themselves exist. Eudoxus will say, I have never known someone so stupid, that he had to first know what existence was, before he could conclude that he himself existed. Interestingly, the idiot in De Cusa says something similar. The idiot and the philosopher are talking about the existence of the mind, when the philosopher asks: “Tell me, idiot —as you call yourself—, do you have a notion of the mind?” And the idiot answers: “I do not think there has ever been a human who didn’t at least have some notion of the mind.”
He means to say to the philosopher that there is something quite stupid to his question, how could you even ask if I have knowledge of the mind? Everyone has this, evidently. In a different period entirely, the 18th century German philosopher Fichte will say: “most people would rather believe that they are a piece of lava on the moon than an I.” You see this tradition of thought, which recurs throughout history. There is a specific sort of stupidity of the learned, where they start denying even the most evident of things. We all exist, how then could we possibly question our own existence? Well, it is possible. Go to any university, and you’ll find the strangest reasonings for why you do not really exist. For why you are not really a man, for why you are not really a woman. And then figures must stand up, De Cusa, Descartes, Fichte, to make the most evident of things evident again.
The notion of ‘idiocy’ as a privileged road to truth is an important one for philosophy, and here too with Descartes we see it present. If you are interested in this, I wrote a short text on the notion of ‘idiocy’ and its significance in the history of thought:
We might return to this text from De Cusa later on, for now we continue where we left off. Eudoxus is responding to Polyander’s admission of inferiority. And Eudoxus had replied that Polyander’s lack of learning does not make him less predisposed to finding the truth, but in fact grants him a privileged position. Eudoxus now says something quite important:
“Eudoxus: To give you a more distinct conception of the sort of doctrine I propose to teach, I should like you to notice how the sciences differ from those simple forms of knowledge which can be acquired without any process of reasoning, such as languages, history, geography and in general any subject which rests on experience alone. I readily grant that one man could not live long enough to acquire first-hand experience of everything in the world; but I am no less convinced that it would be folly to desire this. A good man is not required to know Greek or Latin any more than the languages of Switzerland or Brittany, or the history of the Empire any more than that of the smallest state in Europe. He ought simply to take care to employ his leisure in good and useful occupations, and equip his memory only with the most necessary knowledge.” (ST, 403)
Science, or strictly philosophical thinking, does not equate to the accumulation of knowledge. And this is precisely why Epistemon thinks his curiosity can never be satisfied, and why Polyander feels himself inferior. Indeed, admits Eudoxus, we could never satisfy our curiosity for knowing all the facts about history, geography, languages, etc., that there are to know. For there are a near infinite amount of facts to be known, a single mind could never learn all of them. But, a single human should not even desire to learn all of these things. He should only desire to know those things most necessary to him. If we take the truths of science and philosophy to be of this same character, then indeed Epistemon is right, our curiosity can never be satisfied. But, Eudoxus says, the truths to be found through science and philosophy are of a different character than the knowledge acquired by experience, which also includes the knowledge acquired by reading, study, etc. The sciences, says Eudoxus, “are simply a matter of making reliable judgements on the basis of knowledge we already posses - some are drawn from ordinary facts about which everyone has heard, and others from observations which are unusual and highly contrived.” (ST 403-404)
Again, our curiosity can not be satisfied because we are curious about too many things, not because curiosity is in principle unable to be satisfied. If we calm ourselves and realize that we need not know everything, but only the most important things. If we do this, we can truly achieve satisfaction of our curiosity. Eudoxus says, that the truths that can solely derived by reason (not the truths found by experience) can be found. By reasoning about the most simple facts common to everyone, we can be satisfied. And to then hope for more, do so if you wish, but there is no sense in tormenting yourself about your ignorance, if you are already knowledgeable about those things most worthy of your attention. And in fact, and here is the problem with Epistemon’s way of thinking, if you are too curious about everything not yet within your grasp, it might just happen that you fail to pay attention to the most simple things. And, you will end up knowing nothing. So, you have this curiosity for knowledge, and you seek out knowledge to escape from your state of ignorance, but precisely because you are too curious, you end up knowing even less than you would have if you were a little less curious, or only curious about the right things. You want to know everything, and pursuing to know everything, you hope that even if you don’t end up knowing everything, at least you will know the most simple of things. But this is not how it works, Descartes says. Rather, because you want to know everything, it might just happen that you end up knowing nothing at all.
Descartes is saying; indeed, Aristotle was right that philosophy starts in wonder. But if you don’t pay attention that you only wonder at those things worthy of wonder, you will never be a true philosopher, you will never attain wisdom. It is not enough to be interested, you must be interested in the right things. It is not enough to wonder, you must also guide your wonder.
“Eudoxus: I believe I shall adequately fulfil my promise if I explain to you the truths which can be deduced from the ordinary facts known to each of us, and so make you capable of discovering for yourselves all the others, when you care to take the trouble to look for them.”
Start with what is simple, start with what you can reasonably hope to achieve knowledge of. In life as in philosophy, set attainable goals. Or you will only become discouraged when you end up failing to attain your goal. And then, if you have discovered those things which you can reasonably hope to attain knowledge of, and you still desire some more, do as you wish, go further.
Polyander now answers, and he asks Eudoxus what he would like him to explain.
“Polyander: I think that this is all we can possibly desire. I should be happy if you would prove a certain number of propositions which are so well known that no one is ignorant of them, such as those concerning the Deity, the rational soul, the virtues and their rewards, etc.”
You must admire Descartes’ humour here. There is this talk about starting off with the most simple of truths, and here Polyander starts thinking about the most grandiose subjects: God, the nature of the soul, virtue, etc. But as we will see, these will indeed appear to be the most simple things a man can know. Polyander continues:
“Polyander: I compare these propositions [God, the soul, virtue, etc.] to those ancient families which everyone recognizes as being very illustrious even though their titles to nobility lie buried in the ruins of antiquity. For I have no doubt at all that those who first brought mankind to believe these truths were able to prove them with very strong arguments. But ever since that time, these proofs have been repeated so rarely that no one knows them any longer.”
There are these truths, so universal, so ancient, so important. Yet precisely because they are so common and ancient, people have forgotten their arguments, and have come to take them as true solely on belief. Polyander ads: “These truths are so important, however, that prudence obliges us to believe them blindly at the risk of being mistaken, rather than to wait until the next world in order to get clear about them.” Indeed, for even if one cannot give a clear proof for the distinction between virtue and vice, you sort of have to believe in it, or do you dare live a life of vice, simply because you are ignorant of the precise reasons for why you shouldn’t prefer vice over virtue? And indeed, even if one cannot give a precise argument for the existence of the soul, or explain in detail what it is, are you therefore willing to cease believing in the existence of yourself? Such things would be ludicrous. These things seem so important, and so common to man, they are so ancient, that it would be ludicrous to loose faith in them, merely because we can’t offer a proof for them right now. But precisely because these things are so self-evident, and people always desire what is special and new, we have forgotten to think about them, and we have forgotten the arguments that made us believe in them in the first place.
These things are so common, and so important (imagine the consequences of living a life not differentiating between what is good and bad, or a life denying the existence of your own soul), that there has to be a proof for them. You recognize the value of these notions the moment you hear them, even if you are not able to give a proof for why you deem them valuable. And this is what philosophy must try to do, to explain the value of those things which we deem valuable. To give the why of those things which we deem true. I know that I exist, because I exist. The question is, why? And how is it that I am certain of this? I am certain of this, this is a given, but how is it that I am certain of this? And I know that virtue exists, because I can choose to live virtuously. The question is, why? And these most important notions —God, the rational soul, the virtues and their rewards— will be the notions our men will discuss. Descartes’ problem can be summed up like this; searching so hard for the pre-conditions of our knowledge of ourselves, God, virtue, etc, we have forgotten that we actually exist.
Before Eudoxus can answer Polyander, Epistemon makes himself heard:
“Epistemon: For my part, I am a little more curious, and I should like you to go on to clarify for me some special difficulties which I find in every science, and chiefly those concerning human contrivances, apparitions, illusions, and in short all the marvellous effects attributed to magic.”
Again, it is clear, Epistemon is not only satisfied with knowing the most important things. No, he desires to know the intricacies of the most obscure sciences, he has to know all the intricacies of human invention, he even wants to know magic. All of it he has to know to be satisfied, and he calls this being “a little more curious” (un peu plus curieux). Descartes is here really making clear the difference between himself and a thinker like Epistemon, painting the latter to be this ridiculous figure who wants to know the most vague areas of knowledge. Descartes is ridiculing him. Epistemon explains why he wants to know these things: “I think it is useful to know about them, not in order to make use of them, but in order to prevent our judgement from being beguiled by wonder at something of which it is ignorant.”
Interesting, and very typical for Epistemon. He wants to know them, not because he thinks there is some intrinsic value to them, but purely so that there would be nothing left for him to wonder at. He could not be content with himself, if he did not know everything there is to know. All of his curiosity has to be satisfied. Again, he does not seem to understand what Eudoxus is trying to say; ‘you should curb your curiosity, not seek to satisfy it in every area in which it can show itself.’ Epistemon is still seeking for a solution in the wrong direction. What does Eudoxus have to say?
“Eudouxs: “I shall try to satisfy both of you. In order to establish an order that we can follow to the end, first of all, Polyander, I should like us to have a discussion, just the two of us, about all the things in the world, considering them as they are in themselves. I want Epistemon to interrupt as little as possible, because his objections would often force us to depart from our subject. Afterwards we shall all consider these things afresh, but under a different aspect, namely in so far as they are related to us and can be described as true or false, and good or bad. It is here that Epistemon will have a chance to set forth all the difficulties which will have occurred to him during the preceding conversations.”
This is then what they will do. Eudoxus will set out an order of reasonings for them to follow, guiding Polyander through it, and Epistemon is told to be silent. For his incessant questioning and curiosity might just make Polyander lose track of what is being said. This ‘method’ is interesting, and very typical for Descartes. He asks of us, in reading his philosophy, to silence this voice in our heads that wants to critique everything we read. Silence it, and meditate with me, try to follow the reasoning with all your attention. And afterwards, digest it properly, and then you can offer your criticisms, if you still feel called to do so. Often, we pick up a text, ready to criticize it. But how, in this way, will we truly understand what is being said? We have to read with love, Descartes says, open ourselves up to the text, assume that there is worth in it. ‘Meditate’ on it, digest it properly. And only then will you become worthy of offering criticism of it.
After Descartes wrote his ‘Meditations on first philosophy’, he made sure it was distributed amongst well known theologians and philosophers, asking them to read it carefully and sent him their criticisms. Descartes would then reply to them, and the objections and replies would be published alongside the actual Meditations. In one of these replies to a series of objections compiled by father Mersenne, Descartes explains why he called his text ‘Meditations’. We read:
“This is why I wrote ‘Meditations’ rather than ‘Disputations’, as the philosophers have done, or ‘Theorems and Problems’, as the geometers would have done. In so doing I wanted to make it clear that I would have nothing to do with anyone who was not willing to join me in meditating and giving the subject attentive consideration. For the very fact that someone braces himself to attack the truth makes him less suited to perceive it, since he will be withdrawing his consideration from the convincing arguments which support the truth in order to find counter-arguments to it.”(Descartes, The Philosophical Writings Volume II, 112)
You have to truly pay attention to the reasoning, stay with it, dwell on it, and don’t let your mind stray to other concerns. This is why Descartes called his text ‘Meditations’, for you have to meditate on the text. This word, ‘meditation’, it has become somewhat polluted today. It conjures up people sitting cross-legged with their eyes closed, seeking to attain spiritual union. And many Western philosophers like to distance themselves from the notion. We have nothing to do with meditation they say, rather, we think. But is not true thinking, akin to meditating? This is what Descartes asks of us. Are we truly thinking about the nature of the soul, if our mind is straying from this thought continuously? To truly think about something, we have to devote ourselves to it, we have to give it all of our attention, we have to meditate on it. And only then, can we truly say in all honesty that we are thinking. This ‘meditation’ that we do today, what is it but trying to focus, to not have your thoughts go in all directions, but to keep your thought under control, to keep it focussed. For what end? Some say the end of meditation is to achieve a state of no-thought, a state in which thought is no longer directed at something, but entirely recollected into itself. A state in which your awareness is not aware of something, but entirely aware of itself. It is worth noting here that when Descartes offers the proof ‘I think, I am’, with thought he means something very much akin to awareness. We read in the Principles of Philosophy:
“By the term ‘thought’, I understand everything which we are aware of as happening within us, in so far as we have awareness of it. Hence, thinking is to be identified here not merely with understanding, willing and imagining, but also with sensory awareness.” (Principles of Philosophy, I, §9)
And he says, if you want to understand my proof ‘I think, I am’, it is not enough to read my proof, you have to truly meditate on what it means to think. “In metaphysics there is nothing which causes so much effort as making our perception of the primary notions clear and distinct.” (Descartes, The Philosophical Writings Volume II, 111) It is not a given, that you understand what thought means. You have to truly meditate on it. Do you think you know what thought is? Do you really know thought, when your thought is continuously thinking about various things, but never about itself? Do you really know what thought is, if you have never thought about thought entirely by itself? If your thought has always been about specific thoughts, but never about thought itself, how then can you say that you know what thought is?
Sometimes, today, when we say we meditate we mean that we are focussing our attention solely on our breath, or on a part of our body. And the ‘meditation’ in this is again to have our awareness focussed on whatever it is that we have chosen to meditate on. To meditate, to consider with extraordinary attention and focus. And it is with this attitude, Descartes says, that you have to do philosophy. He says, you cannot just critique my proof ‘I think, I am’, if you have never actually meditated on what it means to think. And most people, have never done this. This is a recurring theme in the objections to his Meditations. Someone will say, ‘aha but ‘I think, I am’, this is not certain, can you not say with just as much certainty say that you are because your father and mother gave birth you, and because your grandparents gave birth to your father and mother, and so on to infinity.’ And Descartes will sigh, saying, you might have read my Meditations, but you have not meditated on them. For what is mediation? It is to consider with attention what is certain and unchanging at every moment of my experience. It is to consider the now, not the past, not the present. I cannot say something with certainty about the past, for I was not there to be aware of it, and everything I might think about it might be like a dream. How do I know that my mother gave birth to me? I know this through what I have heard, what I have come to believe, and through the various sciences. But all of these things, they are not present now, not present at each moment of my experience. These are things I have come to believe within my awareness, within my ‘thought’, and are thus of a secondary level of certainty compared to my certainty of my own thought. Descartes’ question is not; ‘how did this come about?’ His question is; ‘what is certain?” What can I truly say with certainty, what is indubitable, what is unchanging, in whatever it is that I might experience, in whatever it is that I might come to learn. And this, is thought. And you will find this certainty only if you meditate on what it means to think. If you ask however, how has it come about that I think? You will be led to say that your parents gave birth to you, and that their parents gave birth to them, and so on to infinity. It doesn’t lead to an absolutely certain claim, for you cannot think into infinity. And thus, Descartes says, meditate on what I say. For if you don’t, and you just read, you will come up with all these questions: ‘but how does thought come about? etc’, and these questions make no sense from the standpoint of an order of certainty, from the method of meditation. Meditation is not interested in how thought came about, it is interested in sitting with thought, in paying attention to it, in ‘meditating on it’, in seeking out what is absolutely certain and indubitable, at this present moment. If you say, yes but your thought came about because of these interactions in your brain etc. Descartes will reply, okay fine, but how do you know this for certain? How do you even know for certain that the past is connected to the present? How do you even know that the eyes with which you observe this brain give a clear picture of reality? How do you even know that bodily interactions can bring about awareness? With what certainty do you say this? What, in this experience that I have now, leads me to believe that it is the result of prior experience? This is would all be knowledge based on inference, but Descartes is not seeking a knowledge based on inference. He is seeking a truth that is clear and evident, in an by itself. And all these questions you ask, isn’t my thought there because of certain interactions in my brain, and because of my parents, etc., all of these questions, what are they? They are thoughts. And how could you think anything, without there first being thought? And you see how asking all these questions draws thought away from meditating on itself. How can thought truly get to know itself, if it is thinking about all these things that are not thought? How can thought come into presence, if all these questions stand in the way? It is evident that this won’t work, no?
And thus, Eudoxus tells Epistemon to be silent for now. So that they can truly meditate, and truly absorb what Eudoxus is going to say. Silence your questions for a while, because maybe, if you meditate on what it is that you were going to question, your questions will dissipate. In the replies to Mersenne, Descartes says:
“I think it is fair for me to reject out of hand, and despise as worthless, the verdict given on my work by those who refuse to meditate with me and who stick to their preconceived opinions.” (Descartes, The Philosophical Writings Volume II, 112)
Very harsh, yet you cannot blame Descartes for speaking in this way. You must read with love, truly try to see the worth in what you are reading. For if you approach a text with the eye of critique, the understanding is blinded from the very beginning. There are those “who like to contradict just for the sake of it”, Descartes says, and they must be silenced. (Descartes, The Philosophical Writings Volume II, 111)
“Polyander: Tell us the order, then, that you will follow in your explanations.”
In the next part of this series, we will listen to the order that Eudoxus has set out. For now, we end in anticipation. In the meantime, perhaps meditate on what has been said.
Stay well, and if you have any questions or comments, please do not hesitate to reach out in the comments, by e-mail, or by simply sending me a message on Twitter.
-Tólma
Sources:
Descartes. Œuvres philosophiques II 1638-1642. Edition de F. Alquié. Paris: Garnier, 1967.
Descartes. The Philosophical Writings: Volume I. Translated by John Cottingham, Robert Stoothoff, Dugald Murdoch. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984.
Descartes. The Philosophical Writings: Volume II. Translated by John Cottingham, Robert Stoothoff, Dugald Murdoch. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984.
Plato. Complete Works. Edited by John M. Cooper. Cambridge: Hackett, 1997.
Aristotle. The Complete Works. Volume II. Edited by Jonathan Barnes. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984.
Cusanus. De Leek over de Geest. Vertaald door Inigo Bocken. Budel: Damon, 2001.