Steven Nadler

Spinoza's Compendium of Hebrew Grammar has not been well served by scholarship. Serious studies of it are few and far between, and it has generally been ignored by philosophers, including seasoned Spinoza scholars. In fact, I am willing to bet that most people would be surprised to learn that Spinoza wrote a Hebrew grammar.Even Spinoza's closest friends did not know what to make of this work, composed most likely in the early 1670s, just after the publication of the Theological-Political Treatise. When they put together Latin and Dutch editions of his unpublished writings soon after his death in 1677, the inclusion of the Compendium was apparently an afterthought—it...

CONTRARY TO WHAT APPEARS TO BE POPULAR BELIEF, PORT-ROYAL WAS NOT A BASTION OF CARTESIANISM. IN FACT, OF ALL THE PORT-ROYALISTS OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY, ONLY ARNAULD CAN BE CONSIDERED A CARTESIAN IN ANY INTERESTING SENSE. MOST OF THE OTHERS ASSOCIATED WITH THE ORDER WERE HOSTILE TO THE NEW PHILOSOPHY AND ACTIVELY CAMPAIGNED AGAINST IT, BELIEVING IT TO POSE A THREAT TO PIETY AND "TRUE" RELIGION. THIS CAN BE SEEN BY EXAMINING THE WRITINGS OF DE SACY, DU VAUCEL, AND NICOLE, AND THE VARIOUS PHILOSOPHICAL AND THEOLOGICAL OBJECTIONS THEY RAISE AGAINST DESCARTES'S PHILOSOPHY

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Journal of the History of Ideas 62.1 (2001) 37-57 [Access article in PDF] Gersonides on Providence: A Jewish Chapter in the History of the General Will Steven Nadler The notion of the "general will" has proven to be one of the more influential and at the same time enduringly perplexing concepts in the history of ideas. Its most famous appearance is of course, in Rousseau's political philosophy as the expression, ideally embodied in the sovereign's commands, of what is in the common or public interest. The general will (la volonté générale) is, Rousseau says, the will of "the body of the people," that is, "the will that one has a citizen" for the common good. It thus stands in contrast to the "particular will" (la volonté particulière), the expression of one's individual and particularistic preference.1 In this political context, what gives the general will its generality is the universality of interest it represents. Its scope extends to all citizens and it specifies what is in the best interest of the members of the body politic as a whole. Although the general will may or may not coincide with each and every individual's private interest, all citizens are, as a matter of fact, properly served by its fulfillment.In his book The General Will Before Rousseau, Patrick Riley demonstrates how this central idea of eighteenth-century political thought actually has its origins in seventeenth-century theological debates over divine, not human, justice. The mystery [of the origins of the general will] is solved when one realizes that the term volonté générale was well established in the seventeenth-century, though not primarily as a political idea. In fact, the notion of "general will" was originally a theological one, referring to the kind of will that God (supposedly) had in deciding who would be granted grace sufficient for salvation and who would be consigned to hell. The [End Page 37] question at issue was: if "God wills that all men be saved"--as St. Paul asserts in a letter to his disciple Timothy--does he have a general will that produces universal salvation? And if he does not, why does he will particularly that some men not be saved? 2Part of the problem to which the appeal to God's general will was thought by some to afford a solution was the apparent injustice in the distribution of grace. Grace seemed to fall abundantly upon those who were not deserving of it and unprepared to use it properly and insufficiently, and all too rarely upon those who, it was believed, were most worthy of it. Malebranche, for one, believed that God wills, with a general volition, that all people be saved; other factors, however, hinder that "simple" volition from being carried out. But this question about divine aid was simply one element in a larger body of questions--extending across the realms of both nature and grace--about evil in God's creation: why is there sin, suffering, and imperfection in the world if the world was created and is governed by a wise, just, and omnipotent God? As Riley shows--and as I shall briefly review--the notion of the general will was employed by some early modern theologians in an attempt at theodicy, that is, an explanation or justification of God's ways in the face of such a conundrum.My aim in this paper is to take Riley's project one step further. I show that the use of the generality of divine purpose and effect that one finds in seventeenth-century theological discussions of the problem of evil appears in a similar form in an even earlier theodicean context. In his account of divine providence and especially in his explanation of why in this lifetime righteous people suffer and wicked people prosper, the fourteenth-century rabbi and philosopher Levi ben Gershom--Gersonides (or, to use his Hebrew acronym, RaLBaG)--appeals to the generality of the ways of nature established by God much...

remarkable as it may seem, we are still, nearly 350 years after Spinoza's death, uncovering new information about the philosopher's life. Previously unknown, or at least unnoticed, documents bearing facts about his years before the 1656 herem and about his parents and other relatives continue to emerge from the archives, especially concerning their communal, business, and religious activities in Portugal, France, and the Netherlands.In this article, we present two such documents, one from the Portuguese-Jewish Archives of Amsterdam concerning Spinoza himself, and one from the archives of the Lisbon Inquisition concerning his father, Miguel Espinoza. The former document was, in fact, hiding in...

One of the welcome features of Leibniz research over the past quarter century has been the abandonment of the old "chicken vs. egg" debate about whether Leibniz's logic precedes and grounds his metaphysics or vice versa. Scholars such as Robert M. Adams, Daniel Garber, and Donald Rutherford, among others, have brought our attention to what might be called the systematic "holism" of Leibniz's thought and the way in which its various elements—logical, physical, metaphysical, and theological—reinforce each other. Rutherford, in particular, has argued persuasively that if anything is central to Leibniz's project and its systematicity, it is his philosophical theology, and especially his theodicy.Paul Rateau's book is an important contribution to our understanding of Leibniz's thinking about the problem of evil and the way in which it relates to so many other aspects—philosophical, political, theological—of his system. It is, without question, the most thorough, careful, and philosophically astute study to date of Leibniz's theodicy and its ramifications. It is also an exceedingly well-written and fascinating book

BOOK REVIEWS 143 level of ignorance. I was, for example, surprised to learn that haecceitas is a compara- tively rare term in Scotus rather than signate matter. In his Introduction and Epilogue Gracia nicely counterbalances the tendency to- ward fragmentation stemming from the disparate accounts of individuality in the various thinkers represented in the volume. He does this, first, by highlighting for the reader the basic issues surrounding the problem of individuality, such as the concep- tion of individuality, the extension of the term 'individual', the ontological status of individuality, the principle of individuation, the discernibility of individuals, and lin- guistic reference to individuals. Secondly, he sums up the achievement of the thinkers of this period with regard to individuation. His speculation on why the question of individuality and individuation received the emphasis it did in scholastic thought, namely, because Christianity placed an emphasis upon the individual in a way that Greek thought never did, strikes me as quite plausible. I would suggest by way of addition that Scholasticism was also forced to develop a philosophical account of indi- viduality, precisely because some of the Aristotelian doctrines that entered the Chris- tian West, especially in the thought of Avicenna and Averroes, were quite opposed to forms of individuality: for example, the..

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Deux cartésiens: La polémique Arnauld MalebrancheSteven NadlerDenis Moreau. Deux cartésiens: La polémique Arnauld Malebranche. Paris: J. Vrin, 1999. Pp. 353. NP.The Arnauld-Malebranche debate is one of the great intellectual events of the seventeenth-century. Taking place over an eleven-year time span, and brought to a conclusion only by Arnauld's death, the debate ranged over a wide variety of philosophical and theological issues. At stake were some of the most important questions faced by early modern thinkers: the nature of human knowledge and its relationship to the divine understanding; the appropriate conception of human and divine freedom; the problem of causality; the ontology of evil and the possibility of engaging in theodicean speculation; even the nature of God itself. It is thus very surprising that there has not been, until now, a full-scale (but by no means exhaustive) study of the debate, especially its rich philosophical dimensions.Many readers approaching the documents of the affaire are, of course, put off by the unpleasant personal invective that characterizes many of the principals' exchanges, as well as by what appears to be the repetitive nature of much of the dialogue. Philosophers, as well, have probably been deterred by the debate's theological dimensions, especially the wrangling over questions of grace. More importantly, contemporary philosophers in the Anglo-American tradition have been led to believe that the philosophical side of the debate is fairly one-dimensional, centered only on the nature of representational ideas and the problems surrounding our perception of the external [End Page 595] world. In fact, as Denis Moreau shows in this learned, highly-readable and illuminating study of the debate, the controversy over ideas was only the opening round, Arnauld's point of entry into Malebranche's complex, systematic, but (to Arnauld's mind) highly objectionable philosophical theology.The title of this book is important. Part of Moreau's thesis is that much of the passion of the debate, especially on Arnauld's side, has its origin in the familial context. What is at stake, at least in Arnauld's mind, is the legacy of Cartesianism. Arnauld, Moreau argues convincingly (and contrary to a good deal of scholarly opinion), was a sincere and committed (but not uncritical) disciple of Descartes' (177). His attack on Malebranche was motivated, in part, by a desire to prevent "la philosophie cartésienne" from being transformed for posterity into "la philosophie malebranchiste." It was also motivated, of course and perhaps more importantly, by his desire to defend what he took to be the true Christian conception of God.Part One of the book is devoted to showing how Arnauld's polemical persistence was the result not just of a pugnacious character or personal animus towards his opponent, but rather of a principled approach to philosophical inquiry. His beliefs on the nature and validity of evidence, the proper method to be used in the search after truth, and especially philosophy as a social enterprise all demanded a personal and dialectical confrontation with a heavy dose of rhetoric. Malebranche, on the other hand, preferred a more solitary and meditative mode of inquiry, and was thus unprepared for Arnauld's agonistic onslaught. Thus, Moreau insists with great originality, "on peut ainsi lire cette polémique comme le conflit de deux théories de l'acquisition et de la constitution du savoir."The occasional cause of Arnauld's attack on Malebranche's theory of ideas and his doctrine of vision in God (in Des vraies et des fausses idées) was the publication of the Traité de la nature et de la grace (1680). The epistemological and ontological objections raised in the initial discussion over "êtres représentatifs" was meant ultimately to undermine Malebranche's theodicy by attacking the foundational principles upon which it rested. In Part Two of the book, Moreau looks at what, in Arnauld's eyes, was the essential flow in Malebranche's account: the assertion of the reality of evil. Evil, Malebranche insisted, was not to be explained away as merely illusory, or as forming an essential contributing ingredient of a larger, more perfect whole. Evil is irreducibly real; there is imperfection...

In this book the philosophers Steve Nadler and Lawrence Shapiro will explain why bad thinking happens to good people. Why is it, they ask, that so large a segment of public can go so wrong in both how they come to form the opinions they do and how they fail to appreciate the moral consequences of acting on them. Their diagnosis of the current state of affairs in America, at least, is this: a significant proportion of the population is stupid. They intend this not as mere name-calling, but a diagnosis of a problem that we neglect at our peril. By "stupid" they do not mean lacking intelligence, knowledge, education, skill or savvy. Stupidity, as they understand it, is a character flaw deserving of blame. Unlike ignorance or lack of intelligence-and bearing in mind that even very smart people can be stupid-it is generally avoidable. Stupid people do not have to be stupid. But they typically refuse to take the steps that would cure them of their condition. This book is our effort to illuminate the various dimensions of stupidity so that it might be more easily recognized and treated. The philosophical subjects of epistemology, which addresses what knowledge is and how to distinguish knowing something from merely believing it, and ethics, the study of the moral principles that ought to govern our behavior, can help us understand the difficult and perilous situation in which we now find ourselves. As philosophers, Nadler and Shapiro will aim to offer a way forward through the tools of philosophy-its questions, its methods and even its millennia-old history of recommendations for how to lead a good and rational life. As they will show, the most potent antidote to stupidity is the wisdom and insights, as well as the practical skills provided by philosophy and its history.

This article is a reply to an earlier piece by kenneth seeskin (philosophy and literature, 1982). I argue that socrates' defense is more of a parody of gorgian rhetoric than seeskin is willing to allow. They key lies in socrates' use of rhetoric to persuade the beliefs of the athenian jurors by means of probabilities. When replying to the expressed pretexts of the trial, He uses "base" rhetoric; when finally attending to the real reasons behind his accusations, He resorts to "the truth about his life."