Enlightenment
Reading Descartes’ ‘The Search for Truth by means of the Natural Light’ Part VII.
Polyander: “So the one thing which I cannot separate from myself, and which I know for certain that I am, and which I can now assert with certainty without fear of being mistaken, that one thing, I say, is that I am a thinking thing.”
After Polyander has come to the realization that he is a thinking thing, Eudoxus invites Epistemon to give his opinion on what has been said.
Epistemon speaks: “Since you are asking me, even needling me, to take sides, I am going to show you what Logic can do when roused, and I shall raise such stiff obstacles that not only Polyander but even you will find it exceedingly difficult to get round them.”
The obstacles?
Epistemon: “you say that you exist and you know you exist, and you know this because you are doubting and because you are thinking. But do you really know what doubting or what thinking is?”
This is Epistemon’s objection. You claim to say with certainty: ‘I doubt and therefore I exist as a thinking thing.’ But how can you say this, when you do not yet even know what doubting or thinking is. He also mentions, how can you deduce your existence from the fact that you are doubting or thinking, while you do not even now yet what ‘existence’ means? And so Epistemon says to Eudoxus:
“You should really have taught Polyander first of all what doubt is, what thought is, what existence is, so that his reasoning might have the strength of a demonstration, and that he might understand himself before trying to make himself intelligible to others.”
We have arrived at a crucial point, everything said here, whether you give value to Epistemon’s objections or not, this determines whether you can go along with Descartes’ philosophy or not. Do you believe that you need clear definitions of ‘thought’ and ‘existence’, before you can conclude with certainty that you yourself are thinking and existing? It will be precisely Descartes’ point, that needing a definition of thought before you can conclude that you are thinking or existing, is the sign of the most grave stupidity. A sign even, of a weak mind. A mind that needs definitions concerning itself, before it can conclude with certainty that it exists. All the while, you were existing before you could have come up with any such definition. Phrased differently, the question is: to be certain of yourself, do you need anything outside of yourself (definitions, logic, a proof, and so on), or is the mere fact that you exist enough for you to prove that you exist?
Eudoxus now speaks:
“Someone who, like him [Epistemon], is stuffed full of opinions and taken up with any number of preconceptions finds it difficult to submit himself exclusively to the natural light, for he has long been in the habit of yielding to authority rather than lending his ear to the dictates of his own reason.”
You see, Epistemon thinks he needs some authority outside of himself (the definitions of the Schools, logic, and so on), to conclude that he himself is thinking and existing. Philosophically speaking, he is not self-sufficient, he lacks confidence in his own thought.
“He would rather question others and ponder on what the ancients have written than consult his own thoughts about what judgement he should make. From childhood he has taken for reason what rested only on the authority of his teachers; so now he puts forward his own authority as reason, and is anxious that others should submit to him in the way that he himself once submitted to others.”
Do you see what Eudoxus is saying? Throughout their education, these philosophers (like Epistemon) have been trained to such a degree to listen only to authority and logical argument, that they can no longer listen to the natural light of their own reason. They have learned to question the entire universe, that they have become so bold to even question the existence of their own selves —the one presupposed by all their questioning. For, how could you ask: ‘what is existence’? Or ‘what is thought’?, if you —a thinking, doubting, questioning thing— did not exist first?
You see, for Descartes there is something idiotic, and even dangerous, in these philosophers. Armed with their rules and their books, they have learned to question everything, and now this questioning has even turned against themselves. They are questioning themselves into oblivion.
You must know that one of the reasons I wanted to read The Search for Truth with you, is that I think this critique that Eudoxus levels against Epistemon —that there is a stupidity to questioning too much, to wanting to know too much— it is very relevant today. In many ways, philosophy is nothing but questioning. The questions we ask determine the answers we will get, and so, philosophy questions. But, this does not mean that the more you question, the more answers you will get. For you can question to such a degree, that even that which is absolutely certain, becomes distorted to appear as uncertain, only to satisfy your hunger for questioning. And I believe that we live in such a time as the one that Descartes was diagnosing, where ‘philosophical’ questioning has gone too far, and even the most evident things are being questioned. The very existence of the soul is under attack by the questioning of scientific-materialism, and the very existence of man and woman is under attack by children intoxicated with philosophical questioning. And these things, they are not innocent, they are far from being innocent. In the confines of a lecture hall or a library, you can question as much as you want. But when these questions serve as guides for our actions, before you know it genitals are being cut off, and chips are being implanted into your brain. For we are just computers, infinitely malleable individuals right? And before you know it, your personal conviction, your ability to make out the truth for yourself, has no value whatsoever. All of these things follow, from an excessive and unbound questioning.
Philosophy is indeed, by essence, this practice of questioning. And as philosophy comes face to face with what it is, it does not only realize its own virtue. It also comes face to face with its own shadow, this ability to destroy —blind critique.
But why, why are people, very often the smartest, the ones most capable of putting forward questions, so stupid to question even the certainty of their own existence, of their own thought?
And very often it are the smartest people, the ones most capable of putting forward questions, the ‘philosophers’, who are most likely to entertain these absurd questions.
Well, Descartes has already given us the answer:
a lack of confidence. A lack of confidence in one’s own existence, and in one’s own capacity to attain the truth, a lack of connection to one’s own ‘natural light.’ That is, a lack of connection to oneself.
Later on in his work, when Descartes had already endeavored to learn everything there is to know about physiology, he tried to give a response to this question. Why, do people’s questions turn against themselves? We start to do philosophy in order to know those truths most important to know to live a better life. But before we know it, our questions are turning against us, leading not to a better life, but destroying life itself. A paralysis by analysis, at first. Later, a destruction by critique. How and why does this happen?
In the Passions of the Soul, as the title suggests, Descartes gives a description of all the various passions that the soul can undergo. In doing so, he lists six ‘primitive’ passions. All other passions are composed of these passions, or are species of them. The six primitive passions are wonder, love, hatred, desire, joy, and sadness. To give an answer to our question, we must look at wonder.
Descartes defines wonder as “a sudden surprise of the soul which brings it to consider with attention the objects that seem to it unusual and extraordinary.” Physiologically, this goes along with an impression in the brain, “which represents the object as something unusual and consequently worthy of special consideration.” Along with this, there is a movement of the spirits, “which the impression disposes both to flow with great force to the place in the brain where it is located so as to strengthen and preserve it there, and also to pass into the muscles which serve to keep the sense organs fixed in the same orientation so that they will continue to maintain the impression in the way in which they formed it.” These spirits are the smallest animating principles in the human body, they animate the blood and excite the nerves.
Wonder is a very useful passion, and in many ways it is at the start of all learning. As it is said, ‘philosophy starts in wonder’. And indeed, when we wonder at something new, something we do not yet comprehend, we are driven to gain knowledge about it. In this way, wonder ensures that we continuously learn new things throughout our life. And because wonder leaves such a strong impression in the brain and body, we are physiologically hardwired to seek out novelty, to learn new things. There would be no philosophy or science without wonder.
But, says Descartes, “more often we wonder too much rather than too little, as when we are astonished in looking at things which merit little or no consideration. This may entirely prevent or pervert the use of reason. Therefore, although it is good to be born with some inclination to wonder, since it makes us disposed to acquire scientific knowledge, yet after acquiring such knowledge, we must attempt to free ourselves from this inclination as much as possible.”
How can too much wonder pervert the use of reason? Descartes calls this ‘astonishment’, an excess of wonder.
Because wonder is accompanied by an excitation in the brain, and a desire to fix one’s attention on the object of wonder, it is much more desirable in a sense than the recognition of something we already know, the contemplation of a self-evident truth. The latter are not accompanied by excessive excitation in the brain. And thus, wonder can become addictive:
“when it is excessive and makes us fix our attention solely on the first image of the objects before us without acquiring any further knowledge about them, it leaves behind a habit which makes the soul disposed to dwell in the same way on every other object before it which appears at all novel. This is what prolongs the troubles of those afflicted with blind curiosity, i.e. those who seek out rarities simply in order to wonder at them and not in order to know them.”
It can be very destructive to become addicted to wonder, and Descartes says, eventually it can happen that you start wondering even at those things which are perfectly clear and already well known. Things that wouldn’t normally excite wonder, are turned into objects to wonder at by those addicted to wonder. They start questioning even the most evident of things. Not because it is truly needed to question these things, but because the addict can’t help but wonder.
Why do people become addicted to wonder? Descartes tells us:
“Although it is only the dull and stupid who are not naturally disposed to wonder, this does not mean that those with the best minds are always the most inclined to it. In fact those most inclined to it are chiefly people who, though equipped with excellent common sense, have no high opinion of their abilities.”
These wonder-addicts, these are people who are never satisfied with who they are and what they know. And thus, they go on a never-ending quest to seek out new knowledge, to wonder at new things, to gain more knowledge. Read more books, gather more facts. To be sure, not to escape their ignorance and to become knowledgeable, but to flee from having to act on what they already know.
For Descartes, in the end, all knowledge is practical. We seek out knowledge so that we can better guide our actions. Knowledge serves to act on it. But, doing something is harder than thinking about it. And to flee from having to take the responsibility to act on what we already know, we say: ‘ah, I don’t know enough yet, I first have to read this and this book’ Now, after these books are read, there will be another pile of books one needs to read. And in the end, wondering at new things is only like a kind of irresolution and anxiety, driving one to pursue more and more knowledge, to question everything, only to flee from having to act on what one already knows.
It is easier to question the possibility of self-knowledge, than it is to gain self-knowledge. It is easier to question what a man is, than to be a man.
Those with confidence, wonder at things to gradually better themselves. Those with a lack of confidence, are astonished by everything and everyone in order to flee themselves
We return to the dialogue.
Eudoxus is speaking to Epistemon:
“I quite share your view, Epistemon, that we must know what doubt is, what thought is, what existence is, before being convinced of the truth of this inference, ‘I am doubting, therefore I exist’, or what amounts to the same thing, ‘I am thinking, therefore I exist’. But do not imagine that in order to know what these are, we have to rack our brains trying to find the ‘proximate genus’ and the ‘essential differentia’ which go to make up their true definition. We can leave that to someone who wants to be a professor or to debate in the Schools. But someone who wants to examine things for himself, and to base his judgements about them on his own conceptions, must surely have enough mental capacity to have adequate knowledge of what doubt, thought and existence are, whenever he attends to the question, without having to be taught the difference between them.”
There are things, so evident in and by themselves, that there is no need to ‘rack our brains’ trying to find a definition. ‘Thought’, ‘existence’, these notions are clear to us, by grace of the fact that we ourselves know what thinking and existence are, because we are thinking and because we exist.
Eudoxus continues:
“There are, in my view, some things which are made more obscure by our attempts to define them: since they are very simple and clear, they are perceived and known just on their own, and there is no better way of knowing and perceiving them.”
There are things which are perfectly clear as they are, and questioning them, will not lead us towards the truth, but into error.
“Perhaps some of the most serious errors in the sciences are those committed by those who try to define what should only be conceived, and who cannot distinguish between what is clear and what is obscure, nor tell the difference between something which needs and merits a definition if it is to be known and something is best known just on its own. But doubt, thought and existence can be regarded as belonging to the class of things which have this sort of clarity and which are known just on their own.”
Epistemon is right in saying that one needs to know what thought is, before one can conclude that one is certain that one is thinking. And he is right in saying that one needs to know what existence is, before one can conclude that one exists. But, we know what thought is, because we are thinking. And we know what existence is, because we exist. Because we think and exist, our knowledge of thought and existence is already so intimate, so perfect, that any further definition would not possibly be able to bring us any closer to the nature of thought or existence, and could only drag us further away. Because we exist, we are so close to ‘existence’, so intimately connected to it, because we are ‘it’, and all further definitions could only establish a distance between us and existence. For Descartes, as for every true philosopher since antiquity, true knowledge of something is defined as proximity to the thing in question. And there is nothing to which we are more closely connected than thought and existence, because we are thinking, and because we exist.
Eudoxus says:
“I would never have believed that there has ever existed anyone so dull that he had to be told what existence is before being able to conclude and assert that he exists.”
There are things so clear to us —thought, existence—, that it would only be a sign of stupidity if one would try to question them. A stupidity peculiar to questioning men —philosophers and scientists.
“The only way we can learn such things is by ourselves: what convinces us of them is simply our own experience or awareness - that awareness or internal testimony which everyone experiences within himself when he ponders on such matters.”
It is because we are thinking, that we know what thought is. And because we exist, that we know what existence is. Eudoxus compares it to trying to define to a blind person what ‘white’ is, it would be pointless, all that is needed is for one to open one’s eyes and see white. “In the same way, in order to know what doubt and thought are, all one need do is to doubt or to think.”
Could it be the case, that Epistemon is not really thinking, and not really existing?
Polyander agrees with Eudoxus. For if it were the case that one needs elaborate definitions of thought, existence, and doubt, before one can conclude with certainty that one is doubting and that one exists, he, the layman, would never have been able to believe with certainty that he exists.
Merely doubting, he says, was enough “to bring my doubt home to me and to make me certain of it.”
Polyander now says something worth paying attention to:
“But my doubt and my certainty did not relate to the same objects: my doubt applied only to things which existed outside me, whereas my certainty related to myself and my doubting.”
I can doubt everything, but I cannot doubt my doubt. And thus, my doubt relates to whatever is outside of me, but my certainty relates to my doubt. And as doubt is only a mode of thought, I can think about many things, things which I can doubt, but my thought, this is absolutely certain. The mere fact that I am thinking, this is absolutely certain.
Epistemon is now ready to agree, but he says, what is the point of all this? “All Polyander has learnt with the aid of this marvellous method which you are making such a song about is the fact that he is doubting, that he is thinking, and that he is a thinking thing. Marvellous indeed! So many words for such a meagre result.”
Indeed, the same familiar objection to Descartes’ philosophy: it is so simple, that it becomes insignificant.
Yet here is the thing, there are times when more complexity is needed, and there are times when more simplicity is needed. And Descartes, he believed he lived in a time of too much complexity. Increasingly obscure areas of knowledge, everyone delving into their own little area of specialisation, but when it come to those things most worth knowing —the nature of the soul, God, how to distinguish truth from falsity, and how to act in this world— no one knows anything. At such times, it is clear that something has gone wrong with philosophy. We think so much, but for all our thinking, have we gotten clearer on how to act nobly in this world, have we gotten closer to God, and to ourselves? Or have we merely thought ourselves into inaction and confusion, to such a degree that we no longer even know who we are? When all our theory becomes so complex, creating a web of confusion through which we can barely see the real world at all, a fog that hangs between us and ourselves, preventing self-knowledge, in such times, simplicity is needed. Clear and simple truths, which even the most confused man can accept, if he is willing to think. Simple and evident truths, which even those most deceived by philosophical speculation can accept, if only they allow themselves to listen to their natural light.
And it is only when we realize this context, only in this context, can we see that Descartes’ simplicity is not the simplicity of a child, but in fact a more noble type of simplicity, the simplicity that Plato speaks about as “the sort of fine and good character that has developed in accordance with an intelligent plan.” (Plato, Republic, III, 400e)
Solid, self-contained, undisturbed, autarchical, powerful. Such is the ‘simplicity’ that Descartes shows us. But it will only appear as simple-mindedness to those who do not see the dangers of increasingly complex philosophical questioning. Or to those who are still too addicted to ‘astonishment’, only being able to show respect to those doctrines able to ‘blow their minds’. Descartes is not interested in blowing your mind with some radically new perspectives. He thinks, your mind is already blown enough, it is scattered, you have already seen too many facts, already asked too many questions, already read too many books. The real challenge now, the hard part, is to re-assemble your mind. After doubt, comes certainty. After doubt, certainty must come.
There are times, when we must go back to the basics, back to clear and certain first principles. Eudoxus speaks to Epistemon concerning his method of doubt:
“If someone should now say that it has not got me very far, this is a matter for experience to determine. Provided you continue to give me your attention, I am sure you will admit that we cannot be too careful in establishing our first principles, and that once these are established, the consequences will be able to be deduced more easily, and will take us further, than we dared hope was possible. All the mistakes made in the sciences happen, in my view, simply because at the beginning we make judgements too hastily, and accept as our first principles matters which are obscure and of which we do not have a clear and distinct notion.”
If we cannot even say anything with certainty about those matters most close to us, like our own existence, how will we even dare to say anything about more complex and exotic matters? Now, of course, Eudoxus has to prove that his principles will indeed lead us to deduce more and more truths. And this will be the focus of the rest of the dialogue. Starting from the first truth of Cartesianism —I think, I am. I am a thinking thing—, Polyander will deduce a whole array of other truths. Sadly, as I mentioned earlier, nothing of this dialogue remains to us. The text is cut short after, having established his first principles with the help of Eudoxus, Polyander starts on his search for truth. Here are the last words:
Polyander: “So many things are contained in the idea of a thinking thing that it would take whole days to unfold them. We shall be dealing for the moment only with the most important things, and with those which help to make the notion of a thinking thing more distinct, and which will help us to avoid confusing it with notions which have nothing to do with it. By a ‘thinking thing’ I mean…”
In the beginning of the dialogue, Eudoxus had mentioned that, starting from the knowledge of the rational soul, he would speak about the nature of God, about everything there is to know about animals, machines, nature, celestial phenomena, the immortality of the soul, and the nature of virtue and vice, and how to act nobly in this world. Sadly, the dialogue is cut short just after the knowledge of the soul has been proven. But, even though we do not possess the rest of the text, the message of The Search for Truth seems completed with Polyander’s last words. As I mentioned, The Search for Truth is really a clashing of three ways of thinking, each represented by one persona. Eudoxus: the figure of confidence in thought, the ability to think entirely by himself, not needing any books or authority, an adventurer, a private thinker. Polyander: the layman, lacking confidence, believing that because he has never been educated, he will never be able to achieve knowledge of the truths of philosophy. Epistemon: the university philosopher, the man of books, relying on authority, so trained to think, that he has lost the ability to think for himself, perpetually astonished.
What happens in the dialogue, and this is really what it is about, besides the actual truths being spoken about, is a transformation that takes place in the soul of Polyander. At first, the layman he is, he comes to our two philosophers to learn from them. Epistemon speaks to him: you are good in coming to us, but, you being an unlearned idiot, you can’t expect that you’ll understand anything, or be able to learn the most noble truths of philosophy. But, there is Eudoxus, who speaks to Polyander: do not listen to these learned philosophers, you can effectively attain the truth by yourself. You don’t have to listen to authority, or read all the books. All you have to do, is to dare to think. You have to dare to think by yourself. Get rid of these preconceived opinions bred into you by men like Epistemon, that you can only gain knowledge of yourself and God through them. You can know the truth, and it starts with believing that you can. And this is what the Search for Truth is about, this internal transformation of Polyander, where he goes from this insecure idiot, to a man confident in his own ability to attain the truth by way of his own common sense. At first, a child that listens only to authority. In the end, a man that listens only to his own natural light. There are things which are known to us, so clearly, because our very existence is this knowledge. The fact that we are aware, that we are thinking, and the fact that we exist. We know this, because it is impossible for us to not know these things. We know thought, because we are thought. And we know existence, because we exist. And to not know what thought is, or to not know what existence is, this would be the same as not thinking, or not existing. To know what thought is, we have merely to think. And to know what existence is, we have merely to exist. But, do we know what thought is? Or have we yet to start thinking? And do we know what existence is? Or have we yet to start living.
Polyander would know this, but the voice of authority is a powerful one. And all it takes are some words from Epistemon, for Polyander to start questioning his own existence. And this is what it is all about for Descartes, to teach men to think for themselves. Confidence, really, is the subject of the Search for Truth. To truly start thinking for oneself, are we ready to know what this means? To renounce the position of being a slave to the thoughts of others, and to take up the position of a thinker? Only one idea is needed for this, the idea of doubt. Thinking, says Alain, is to say ‘no’. And having said ‘no’ to the way of thinking for which he has been bred, Polyander now steps on to the stage as a thinker.
Now, we have come to the end of what remains to us of the dialogue, and Polyander is speaking. We look at his words again:
Polyander: “So many things are contained in the idea of a thinking thing that it would take whole days to unfold them. We shall be dealing for the moment only with the most important things, and with those which help to make the notion of a thinking thing more distinct, and which will help us to avoid confusing it with notions which have nothing to do with it. By a ‘thinking thing’ I mean…”
How different is this Polyander from the Polyander of the beginning, who said: “I shall be pleased to be present at this discussion, though I do not think myself capable of deriving any profit from it.”
Is this even the same man? Now, he is leading the conversation, and he says with confidence to the other men: I am a thinking thing. And whatever you might say to me, however much you might make me doubt my own existence, I am a thinking thing. I know this in such an intimate way, that nothing whatsoever could ever deceive me regarding the certainty I have of my own nature. The world deceives, but I am certain.
Even though the rest of the dialogue is lost to us, Descartes’ mission is complete. To bring Polyander to this position where he is confident to think. We might not know anything, yet, about the nature of God, celestial phenomena, and so on, but the transformation of soul is complete.
And with this, The Search for Truth is completed. For now, having recognized her once, we know what truth looks like. Indubitable, self-same, beyond the possibility of doubt, “a knowledge which knows itself.”(Plato, Charmides, 169e).
There is something quite ridiculous, in trying to gain knowledge about the world, without even knowing yourself. This is what Descartes believes. And as such, all philosophy must start with self-knowledge. But before this self-knowledge is even possible, we must start with believing that we are in principle capable of self-knowledge.
And even more, there is something quite ridiculous in trying to gain certain knowledge, without first knowing what certainty looks like.
In Plato’s Theaetetus, Socrates and Theaetetus are discussing the nature of knowledge, when Socrates realizes they have been going about in a quite reckless manner:
“Socrates: Still—we must stop at nothing; supposing now we were to set about being quite shameless?
Theaetetus: How?
Socrates: By consenting to say what knowing is like.
Theaetetus: And why should that be shameless?
Socrates: You don’t seem to realize that our whole discussion from the beginning has been an inquiry about knowledge, on the assumption that we do not yet know what it is.
Theaetetus: Oh but I do.
Socrates: Well, then, don’t you think it is a shameless thing that we, who don’t know what knowledge is, should pronounce what knowing is like? But as a matter of fact, Theaetetus, for some time past our whole method of discussion has been tainted. Time and again we have said ‘we are acquainted with’ and ‘we are not acquainted with’, ‘we know’ and ‘we do not know’, as if we could to some extent understand one another while we are still ignorant of what knowledge is.” (Plato, Theaetetus, 196 d-e)
It is this very same problem that struck Descartes, and that led him to become the founder of modern subject-based philosophy. We have been doing philosophy for all these centuries, but we do not even know what knowledge is like. And his answer: true is what is self-same at all times, what is absolutely undoubtable. And the only thing that answers to these criteria: self-knowledge, “I think, I am.” Such is the name of certainty, such is how truth reveals itself to man, before anything else whatsoever has been revealed.
There is something of Epistemon, in the passage from the Theaetetus. ‘You say you exist, but do you even know what existence is?’, ‘you say you know, but do you even know what knowledge is?’ And Descartes’ answer is clear, I know because I know, I know that I exist, because I could not possibly not know that I exist. Because my knowledge of myself and my existence are one and the same thing: thought. I am a thinking thing.
It is true that The Search for Truth doesn’t give us much in terms of an actual philosophy, it doesn’t give us much in terms of learning about ‘Descartes’ metaphysics’. But what it does give us, much more so than any other text by Descartes, is the, you could say, pre-philosophical beliefs that are at the root of his philosophy. Why is Descartes the philosopher of the cogito? Because he is obsessed with this problem of certainty, acutely aware of the dangers of being deceived by books and institutions. And he is obsessed with this problem of confidence, you have to dare to think. This makes Descartes the real founder of what we call the enlightenment.
When Kant, in his famous essay ‘What is Enlightenment?’ (1784) writes:
“Enlightenment is man's release from his self-incurred tutelage. Tutelage is man’s inability to make use of his understanding without direction from another. Self-incurred is this tutelage when its cause lies not in lack of reason but in lack of resolution and courage to use it without direction from another. Sapere aude! “Have courage to use your own reason!"- that is the motto of enlightenment.
Laziness and cowardice are the reasons why so great a portion of mankind, after nature has long since discharged them from external direction (naturaliter maiorennes), nevertheless remains under lifelong tutelage, and why it is so easy for others to set themselves up as their guardians. It is so easy not to be of age. If I have a book which understands for me, a pastor who has a conscience for me, a physician who decides my diet, and so forth, I need not trouble myself. I need not think, if I can only pay - others will easily undertake the irksome work for me.”
These words, we can imagine them being spoken by Eudoxus, encouraging Polyander to use his own mind.
This ‘enlightenment’ in the sciences and philosophy, one can say that it has led to much horror. We have become so bold in our thinking, that the most precious of human realities are being questioned. We have become so ‘enlightened’ in our sciences, that we allow them to guide our every move, no longer listening to the natural light of our own reason. Logic has destroyed the value of experience, and science has replaced honest thought.
Yet, are these problems really to be attributed to ‘enlightenment’, or are they to be attributed to a lack of enlightenment?
Are we really ‘enlightened?’ We who live through what is perhaps the worst age of dogmatism the world has ever known? Are we really thinking for ourselves, when so many blindly obey their doctor’s advice? Are we really enlightened, when we think ourselves educated or belonging to a higher class, after having gotten a university degree? Are we really enlightened, when what is commonly called science routinely looks away from one half of reality? Are we really enlightened, when we use science as an excuse to not have to do the hard work of thinking?
In many ways, these problems that we attribute to ‘the enlightenment’, they are really to be attributed to the fact that we are not enlightened enough. And maybe, this spirit of enlightenment, it should not be considered as a historical period, perhaps beginning with thinkers like Descartes, or later, Kant. And this problem of dogmatism, of servitude in thought, it is not a historical problem that can be overcome. It is rather, an untimely problem, and an untimely task. ‘Dare to think’, was the idea of Descartes, and it became the motto of Kant, but it is still very much our problem, and the problem of any man at any time.
It is perhaps a truth of history, that every movement of free-thought, eventually becomes dogmatic. And as such, the once radical and freeing thoughts of Descartes, have become dogmatic once again. Elements of his philosophy have become adopted by the new dogmatism of bland scientific and philosophical materialism.
As such, it might not be a good idea to go back to Descartes’ philosophy to think a better future. It might be an impossibility. But this Cartesian attitude, this message of confidence and daring that underlies Descartes’ philosophy, this is something we can return to. Really, it is something we must return to. We can forget about mind-body dualism, the man as machine, or any other idea attributed to Descartes. But the underlying urge, the underlying problem that gave birth to these ideas — the problem of confidence, free-thought, and deception — we must find a way to let this urge run through us. And this is all that enlightenment ever meant, an embrace of that spirit within man that allows him to think against his time, for a better future. To think against the dogmatic ideas of one’s time, — which are always only the sedimented forms of once radical and freeing ideas,— by going back to those truths that are clear and distinct in and by themselves, eternal, archetypal, for a future to come. Enlightenment has nothing to do with science or logic, and it has everything to do with the soul of man.
We might have to overcome mind-body dualism, or any other concept attributed to Descartes. But Descartes himself, the spirit of confidence and free-thought that runs through his work, this we must return to.
For me, Descartes represents τόλμα (tólma) in thought. This daring, this audacity, to turn away from what has been said before, to leave behind what has become stale, and to go forwards. When all philosophy, all religion, all institutions, all ‘culture’, has become decadent, all that can be done is to start thinking, to truly start thinking for oneself. To build a new house of knowledge, says Descartes, we have to burn down the old one that has become inhabitable. Life changes, continuously, and so its ideas must change too. Life is constantly confronted with new problems, and so its solutions must change too. But what doesn’t change, is the nature of life itself, this imperative natural to life: to change, to think anew, to destroy what has become stale, until we stumble on that which remains. We question everything, until we arrive at those truths that cannot be questioned. ‘I think, I am’. And from there, we can build anew on secure foundations.
In the passage from the Theaetetus, a form of τόλμα is used to express the men’s daring to question after the nature of knowledge, without even knowing what knowledge is. Tólma, this daring to think, this boldness to question everything that has until now been believed, this daring to think for oneself, even when one knows that, right now, one doesn’t know anything, yet. When we start thinking, we are in the dark. And before there is the claim to certainty, there is the daring to go after it. Before thought is recognized as being certain, there is a daring to think. This is the lesson that Eudoxus attempts to impart on Polyander; dare to think. You have to question, in a more radical manner than you have ever done before, and only then will you realize that there is something that escapes all question: “I think, I am.”
You can question everything, but you cannot question that which cannot possibly be questioned. There are truths, there are certainties, that remain, however much we ‘deconstruct’. And in a sense, this is what enlightenment means for Descartes. You question everything obscure, until only the light remains. This is why I do not fear that for all our deconstruction, our ‘progress’, our so-called scientific enlightenment, those truths most dear to us — Self, God, Life—, can be destroyed. They remain, and this is Descartes’ message: be confident enough in yourself, that even faced with radical doubt, with radical questioning, you will remain, life will remain. Question, radically, and the result will not be a ‘deconstruction’ of all that the living hold dear, but precisely a re-discovery on more secure foundations of those very things that belong to the essence of what we call life. The confusion is only a stepping-stone to certainty, you must believe this.
This is what separates Eudoxus from Epistemon. Both embody philosophy —the art of questioning—, but only the former is strong enough of will and mind to let it empower him. Both entertain doubt. Eudoxus, it makes stronger, more secure in his belief in himself. Epistemon, it makes weaker, more confused, now even doubting his own life.
This ‘enlightenment’ that we see today, this deconstruction, this progress, the questioning of everything and everyone, of identity, of peoples, it is a challenge put forward to man by men. It is one step, in man’s questioning of himself and the world, of this τόλμα that urges man to go forward, to explore new territory. And this urge, this will, can not be resisted. The question is only if one survives it. Will you cut off your testicles, after being confronted with the question ‘you say you are a man, but how do you know this, are you really?’, or will you be that much more confident in who you really are? Will you renounce your belief in divinity, after having read some ‘new-atheist’ manifesto, or are you strong enough in your mind to resist this ridiculousness? To trust your own experience, your own thought or awareness?
Now, the real evil of our age, is that this questioning, this ‘enlightenment’ is being pushed on everyone, even on those not strong enough to survive it. As we saw, Descartes never recommended his radical doubt to everyone. And even in the Search for Truth, he is only willing to let Polyander undertake the method because he (Eudoxus) is there to guide him. It can be said with certainty that not everyone is ready to question everything, that man must be protected from his own audacity.
We read Nietzsche, again:
"The terrible consequence of "equality"-finaIly, everyone believes he has a right to every problem.” (Nietzsche, The Will to Power, §860.)
Not all problems should be entertained by everyone. And if they are, then we can find some solace in the fact that "the experience of evil results in a clearer knowledge of the Good in those whose power is too weak to attain knowledge of evil prior to experiencing it.” (Enneads, IV.8.7. 15-17)
If nothing else, the history of Being itself is a history of enlightenment. Soul shines its light on everything that is and can be, both the good and the bad, both light and dark. Only those who are not yet enlightened might perish in the process. But also the fallen, play their role in bringing to light a greater knowledge of the Good, as contrary is known by contrary.
The question reveals that which cannot be questioned, but in the process, those who have not learned to question get hurt. Those who have not learned to be beyond all question, are questioned. And let it be clear from reading the Search for Truth, that no questions are innocent, but are born from the deepest affections of life, and affect life in its very heart.
And such is the lesson of Descartes: question, philosophize, doubt, but do so on a basis of self-knowledge, on a basis of confidence in oneself. Philosophy should strengthen life, its questions should make us more certain about the truth of ourselves. It should not carry us further away from ourselves, its questions should not, turn against life.
Thought is always confronted with two dangers. There is the danger of dogmatism, a spirit which is afraid of radical questioning, of radical critique. It resists those radical thinkers who dare to doubt, afraid that they will destroy its most precious possessions —Self, God, People, Nature. And there is the danger of excessive critique, of ‘progressivism’ in thought. Here, the self-appointed free-thinker resists tradition and all dogmatic clinging to what was, because he fears it will confront him with those realities from which he attempts to flee most of all —Self, God, People, Nature. The dogmatist stifles thought, and thereby he allows thought to choke life. The free-thinker frees thought, he speeds up thought, but he goes too fast, and his questions turn against himself. There is a third figure of thought, which is to be found in Descartes, if we want it to. An embrace of radical questioning, not to destroy the realities on the basis of which he thinks —Self, God, People, Nature—, but to get to the root of them. He resists the dogmatist’s mode of thought; he is not afraid that he will lose anything. He knows that only that which survives honest but radical questioning is worthy of worship. He knows deeply, that even the heaviest of questions will only make him stronger. He also resists the free-thinking progressive; in that he does not question so as to flee from himself in the ever-new, in the perpetual intoxication of astonishment, but to bring him closer to the ever-lasting and eternal, the truly powerful.
He can question radically, because he does so on the basis of a certainty that cannot possibly be questioned. He questions, but always in the service of life.
This is what, if we want it to, Descartes’ enlightenment can mean to us. And this is what ‘modernity’ in philosophy can mean to us. A willingness to think that goes beyond the stale opposition between reaction and progress, between tradition and ‘the new’. Descartes was known to say that his philosophy was the most ancient of all. For he knew, that every time that someone truly dares to think, truly dares to question, truly decides to open himself up to meditation, what is discovered is was is most Ancient of all: that which is self-same and unchanging, indestructible in its power, always providing nourishment for new ideas to overcome the problems set forth by the every changing circumstances of life. Always there to be thought over and over by all who dare to think.
Even though Heidegger is probably right in saying that “Cartesian Scholasticism, with its rationalism, has lost all power further to shape modern times”, it is the spirit of Descartes that remains as powerful as it ever was. (Heidegger, The Age of the World Picture. 140). The Cartesian science of the body, the infamous ‘dualism’, the strange doctrines of occasionalism that came out of it, all of this hardly has any power any more. But the spirit that gave birth to these strangest of ideas that philosophy has ever seen, this spirit can still nourish us. Because this spirit, this τόλμα is indestructible, beyond all question, and the source of all questions. It is what guides man home, and it is what allows man to find a home when the old has become inhabitable.
All this talk about philosophical enlightenment, what it has led to, the anti-human science to which it gave birth, and eventually, the malaise of so-called postmodernity. All of it, both proponents and critics, are ignorant of the spirit that underlies all of it. All of them, struck blind by the light of new inventions, are incapable of being enlightened by the spirit that underlies all invention whatsoever.
And with this, I end this discussion of Descartes’ The Search for Truth. In my mind, one of the few essential texts for understanding modernity. The ‘philosophies’ of our philosophers, their systems, they do not survive the passage of time, they lose their power to inspire. But the spirit underlying these philosophies, the essential problems they struggled with, the imperatives they felt burning through them, these remain there to empower us. And so it is with Descartes, this imperative, this invitation, to truly start thinking for oneself, to truly start seeking self-knowledge, like “the refuge of a solitary in the solitary.”(Plotinus, VI.9.11.) And the belief, that only this road can lead to a veritable philosophy that can guide us through the present and into the future.
I do not believe that this imperative underlying the so-called enlightenment was a historical mistake, any more than I believe it was a mistake for Plato to start thinking. For every time that someone truly starts thinking, that is, truly starts questioning, the truly Ancient is discovered, and a way to the future is opened up. And every time this occurs, philosophy truly begins anew. Through dogmatism, one can only cling to yesterday, but one can never break through to the eternal. And through a blind hunger for progress, only tomorrow can be secured, but never an inhabitable future.
Thank you very much, and I leave you with a passage from Nietzsche’s Zarathustra, which I see quite fit to conclude our discussion of Descartes —this archetypal traveler and free-thinker.
“Now as Zarathustra climbed up the mountain he thought as he traveled about his many lonely wanderings since the time of his youth, and about how many mountains and ridges and peaks he had already climbed. I am a wanderer and a mountain climber, he said to his heart. I do not like the plains and it seems I cannot sit still for long. And whatever may come to me now as destiny and experience – it will involve wandering and mountain climbing: ultimately one experiences only oneself. The time has passed in which accidents could still befall me, and what could fall to me now that is not already my own? It merely returns, it finally comes home to me – my own self and everything in it that has long been abroad and scattered among all things and accidents. And I know one more thing: I am standing now before my last peak and before what has been saved for me for the longest time. Indeed, I must start my hardest path! Indeed, I have begun my loneliest hike!”
(Nietzsche, Zarathustra, III)