The Spinoza Problem (13 page)

“Now, keep in mind that Plato’s earlier works reflect the ideas of his teacher, Socrates, whereas in his later work, such as
The Republic
, we see the emergence of Plato’s own ideas emphasizing absolute standards for justice and other virtues in the metaphysical realm. What is Plato’s idea of our fundamental goal in life? It is to attain the highest form of knowledge, and that, in his view, was the idea of the ‘good,’ from which all else derives value. Only then, Plato says, are we able to reach
eudemonia
—in his view, a state of
harmony of the soul
. Let me repeat that phrase: ‘harmony of the soul
.
’ It’s worth remembering; it may serve you well in your life.

“Now let’s look at the next great philosopher, Aristotle, who studied with Plato for perhaps twenty years.
Twenty years
. Remember that, those of you who have whimpered about my curriculum being too hard and too long.

“In the parts of
The Nichomachean Ethics
you shall be reading this week, you will see that Aristotle also had some strong views on the good life. He was certain that it did
not
consist of sensual pleasure or fame or wealth. What
did
Aristotle hold to be our purpose in life? He thought it was to fulfill
our innermost unique function
. ‘What is it,’ he asks, ‘that sets us off from other forms of life?’ I pose that question to you.”

No instant answers from the class. Finally one student said, “We can laugh, and other animals can’t,” eliciting some chuckles from his classmates.

Another: “We walk on two legs.”

“Laugh and legs—is that the best you can do?” exclaimed van den Enden. “Such foolish answers trivialize this discussion. Think! What is the major attribute that sets us off from lower life forms?” Suddenly he turned to Bento: “I pose that question to you, Bento Spinoza.”

Without a moment’s reflection, Bento said, “I believe it is our unique ability to reason.”

“Precisely. And hence Aristotle claimed that the happiest person is the one who most fulfills that very function.”

“So the highest and happiest of endeavors is to be a philosopher?” asked Alphonse, the cleverest student in the Greek class, who felt unnerved by Bento’s rapid-fire answer. “Doesn’t it seem self-serving for a philosopher to make that claim?”

“Yes, Alphonse, and you’re not the first thinker to draw that conclusion. And that very observation provides us with a segue to Epicurus, another important Greek thinker who weighed in with radically different ideas about
eudemonia
and about the mission of the philosopher. When you read some of Epicurus in two weeks, you’ll see that he, too, spoke of the good life but used another word entirely. He speaks much of
ataraxia
, which translates . . .” Again van den Enden cupped his ear.

Alphonse instantly called out “tranquility,” and soon others added “calm” and “peace of mind.”

“Yes, yes, and yes,” said van den Enden, obviously growing more pleased with his class’s performance. “For Epicurus,
ataraxia
was the only true happiness. And how do we achieve it? Not through Plato’s harmony of the soul nor Aristotle’s attainment of reason but simply
by the elimination of worry or anxiety.
If Epicurus were speaking to you at this moment, he would urge you to simplify life. Here’s how he might put it if he were standing here today.”

Van den Enden cleared his throat and spoke in a collegial manner: “Lads, your needs are few, they are easily attained, and any necessary suffering can be easily tolerated. Don’t complicate your life with such trivial goals as riches and fame: they are the enemy of
ataraxia
. Fame, for example, consists of the opinions of others and requires that we must live our life as others wish. To achieve and maintain fame, we must like what others like and shun whatever it is that they shun. Hence, a life of fame or a life in politics? Flee from it. And wealth? Avoid it! It is a trap. The more we acquire the more we crave, and the deeper our sadness when our yearning is not satisfied. Lads, listen to me: if you crave happiness, do not waste your life struggling for that which you really do not need.”

“Now,” continued van den Enden, settling back into his own voice, “note the difference between Epicurus and his predecessors. Epicurus thinks the greatest good is to attain
ataraxia
through freedom from all anxiety. Now, comments and questions? Ah, yes, Mr. Spinoza. A question?”

“Does Epicurus propose only a negative approach? I mean, does he say that removal of distress is all that is needed and that man without extraneous worry is perfect, naturally good, happy? Are there no positive attributes for which we should strive?”

“Excellent question. And the readings I have selected shall illuminate his answer. Fortunately, Mr. Spinoza, you shall not have to wait to perfect
your Greek, because you can read the ideas of Epicurus in Latin written by the Roman poet Lucretius, who lived about two hundred years later. I shall select the appropriate pages for you in due time. Today I sought only to touch on the central idea that distinguishes him from others: that the good life consists of the removal of anxiety. But even a light reading will indicate that Epicurus is far more complex. He encourages knowledge, friendship, and virtuous, temperate living. Yes, Dirk, you have a question? It appears as if my Latin students are more inquisitive about the Greeks than my Greek class.”

“In Hamburg,” Dirk said, “I know a tavern that is called ‘The Epicurean Delight.’ So good wine and ale are part of his good life?”

“I’ve been waiting for that question—it was certain to appear. Many mistakenly use his name to indicate good food or wine. Were he to know this, Epicurus would be astonished. I believe that this curious error stems from his strict materialism. He believed that there is no afterlife and that since this life is all there is, we should strive for earthly happiness. But do
not
make the error of concluding that Epicurus suggests we should spend our lives wallowing in sensual or lustful activities. Absolutely not—he lived and advocated an almost ascetic life. I repeat: he believed we could best maximize pleasure by minimizing pain. One of his major conclusions was that the fear of death was a major source of pain, and he spent much of his life seeking philosophical methods to lessen the fear of death. Further questions, please.”

“Does he mention service to others and one’s community or love?” asked Dirk.

“An apt inquiry from a future physician. You will be interested to know that he considered himself a medical philosopher, ministering to the ailments of the soul just as a physician ministers to the ailments of the body. He once said that a philosophy unable to heal the soul has as little value as medicine unable to heal the body. I’ve already mentioned some of the soul’s ailments arising from a pursuit of fame, power, wealth, and sexual lust, but they were only secondary. The behemoth of anxieties underlying and feeding all the other worries is the fear of death and the afterlife. In fact one of the first principles in the ‘catechism’ that his students had to learn was that we are mortal, that there is no afterlife, and therefore we have nothing to fear from the gods after death. You’ll read more about this in Lucretius very soon, Dirk. Now I’ve forgotten what the rest of your question was.”

“First,” said Dirk, “I have to say that I don’t know the word ‘behemoth.’”

“Good question. Who here knows that word?” Only Bento raised his hand.

“Mr. Spinoza, tell us.”

“Monstrous beast,” said Bento. “From the Hebrew
b’hëmãh
that appears in Genesis and also in Job.”

“Job, eh. I didn’t know that myself. Thank you. Now, back to your question, Dirk.”

“I asked about love and service to one’s community.”

“As far as I know, Epicurus did not marry but believed in marriage and the family for some—those who are ready for the responsibility. But he staunchly disapproved of irrationally impassioned love that enslaves the lover and ultimately leads to more pain than pleasure. He says that once lustful infatuation is consummated, the lover experiences boredom or jealousy or both. But he gave great weight to a higher love, the love of friends, that awakens us to a state of blessedness. It is of interest to know that he was inclusive and treated all human souls equally: his was the only school in Athens that welcomed both women and slaves.

“But your question about service, Dirk, is important. His position was that we should live a quiet, secluded life, avoid public responsibilities, holding office, or any other type of responsibility that might threaten our
ataraxia
.”

“I hear nothing about religion,” said a Catholic student, Edward, whose uncle had been the bishop of Antwerp. “I hear about the love of friends but nothing about the love of God or of God’s purpose in his scheme of happiness.”

“You’ve put your finger on an important point, Edward. Epicurus is shocking to today’s readers because his formula for happiness pays so little attention to the Divine. He believed that happiness emanates only from our own mind and places no importance on our relationship with anything supernatural.”

“Are you saying,” asked Edward, “that he denied the existence of God?”

“You mean
gods
, in the plural? Remember the time period, Edward. This is the fourth century BC, and Greek culture, like every early culture aside from the Hebrews, was polytheistic,” said van den Enden.

Edward nodded and rephrased his question: “Did Epicurus deny the Divine?”

“No, he was bold, but not foolhardy. He was born about sixty years after Socrates had been executed for heresy, and he knew that disbelief in the gods would have been bad for one’s health. He took a safer position and stated that the gods existed, lived blissfully on Mount Olympus, but were entirely unconcerned with human life.”

“But what kind of God is that? How can one imagine that God would not want us to live according to His plan?” asked Edward. “It is unimaginable that a God who sacrificed His own son for us did not intend for us to live in a particular holy manner.”

“There are many conceptions of gods invented by many cultures,” Bento interjected.

“But I know with the deepest certainty that Christ, our Lord, loves us and has a place for us in his heart and a design for us,” said Edward, looking upward.

“The strength of a belief has no relationship to its veracity,” shot back Bento. “Every god has his deep and fierce believers.”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” van den Enden intervened, “let us postpone this discussion until we have read and mastered the texts. But let me say to you, Edward, that Epicurus was not flippant about the gods: he incorporated them into his view of
ataraxia
and urged us to keep the gods close to our hearts by emulating them and using them as models for a life of blissful tranquility. What’s more, in the service of avoiding disturbance”—at this point van den Enden cast a glance in Bento’s direction—“he strongly advised his followers to participate serenely in all community activities, including religious ceremonies.”

Edward was not mollified. “But to pray simply to avoid disturbance seems a sham observance.”

“Many have voiced that opinion, Edward, and yet Epicurus also writes that we should honor the gods as perfect beings. Moreover we obtain aesthetic pleasure from contemplating their perfect existence. The time is late, gentlemen. These are all excellent questions, and we’ll consider every one of them as we read his work.”

The day ended with Bento and his teachers switching roles. He gave a half-hour Hebrew lesson to father and daughter, after which van den Enden asked him to stay a bit longer for a private discussion.

“You remember our talk the first time we met?”

“I remember very well, and you are indeed introducing me to like-minded companions.”

“No doubt you’ve noted that some of Epicurus’s comments are most apt to your current predicament in your community.”

“I wondered if you had aimed some of his comments about participating serenely in the community’s religious ceremonies in my direction.”

“Exactly so. And did they reach their target?”

“Almost, but they were so weighted down with self-contradiction that they fell short.”

“How so?”

“For me I cannot imagine tranquility sprouting from the soil of hypocrisy.”

“You refer, I assume, to Epicurus’s advice to do anything necessary to fit in with a community, including participating in public prayer.”

“Yes, I call that hypocrisy. Even Edward responded to that. How can inner harmony be present if one is untrue to oneself?”

“I particularly wanted to speak to you about Edward. What do you think about how he feels about our discussion and about you?”

Surprised at this question, Bento paused. “I don’t know the answer to that.”

“I ask for a guess.”

“Well, he’s not happy with me. He’s angry, I suppose. Perhaps threatened.”

“Yes, good guess. Highly predictable, I would say. Now answer this question. Is that what you want?”

Bento shook his head.

“And would Epicurus think that you’ve acted in a way conducive to the good life?”

“I must agree that he would not. At the moment, however, I believed that I was acting wisely in refraining from other utterances.”

“Such as?”

“That God did not make us in His image—we made Him in our image. We imagine He is a being like us, hears our murmured prayers and cares about what we wish—”

“Good Lord! If this is what you almost said, then I see your point. Let us say, then, you acted unwisely but not entirely foolishly. Edward is a devout Catholic. His uncle was a Catholic bishop. To expect him to lay down his beliefs on the basis of a few comments, even rational comments, is highly
irrational and perhaps dangerous. Amsterdam has a reputation for being the most tolerant city in Europe at the moment. But remember the meaning of the word ‘tolerant’—it connotes that we all be tolerant of others’ beliefs, even though we deem them irrational.”