Descartes writes that, “…there is a great difference between the mind and the body, inasmuch as the body is by its very nature always divisible, while the mind is utterly indivisible.” (Descartes, 59) From this he concludes that the mind and the body can exist independently. In this paper, I will present his argument, analyze the argument, and attempt to draw a conclusion based upon personal reasoning.

Descartes’ “Divisibility Argument” for mind/body Dualism is this:

1. The body is divisible.
2. The mind is indivisible.
3. Therefore, the body and the mind are not identical.

In support of Premise 1, he says, “…there is no corporeal…thing that I can think of which in my thought I cannot easily divide into parts…” (Descartes, 59). In other words, since the body is a physical entity, we can divide it into parts. In support of Premise 2, he says, “As for the faculties of willing, of understanding,…[etc.], these cannot be termed parts of the mind, since it is one and the same mind that wills [sic] and understands…” (Descartes, 59). In other words, although we might analyze the mind regarding specific functions, it is ultimately the mind as a whole which formulates thought as a single entity. Thus it is indivisible.

Now let us analyze the argument - does it hold water? It certainly seems to. To put the argument into a more logical format:

1. A is X. (entity A has quality X)

2. B is not X. (entity B does not have quality X)

3. Therefore A ? B. (entity A and entity B are not exactly the same)

Remember, we are not talking about specific minds or bodies, nor variations between entities of the same category – we are saying if two model entities differ in their properties, they are two different types of things. The challenge is not in the validity of the argument (it is valid), but the premises.

Let us begin with Premise 1 regarding the body. Is it true that you can always divide a body? The answer would appear to be yes. The reason is that the body, as Descartes noted, is a physical entity. Experience has shown us that people often sustain damage to their bodies. What about loss which renders the body incapacitated or dead? This (ie the condition of the body) would be irrelevant to the fact that it can be divided physically. What if we were to reach the limits of physical division (eg you divide a body until you are physically unable to divide it any longer)? In this case, we find that according to all known laws of nature, as long as we were able to develop the technology for it, it would be possible to divide it ever more minutely (take the example of a line, which according to geometry is infinitely divisible). Therefore it appears that all physical entities (which have “extension”, according to Descartes) are infinitely divisible, and thus so is the body, and it seems Premise 1 is True.

We turn now to Premise 2: the mind. Is it true that you can never divide a mind? To begin with, it should be pointed out that some people say that Premise 2 might beg the question. In other words, Descartes assumes something which itself is at the very core of the central question of the entire argument – is the mind distinct from the body, and if so, how? Therefore, for Descartes to assume that the body is indivisible is like “cheating” the argument. It did initially appear that way to me as well, but on second thought, I don’t think Descartes begs the question because the central question is NOT whether the mind is divisible or not – rather it is HOW are the mind and body different? And in reply Descartes “shows” how they are different – with his two assumptions. This is how ANY argument is constructed – with certain assumptions which may or may not be true. If I argued that “Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck are different.” and my assumptions were “Mickey Mouse is a mouse.” and “Donald Duck is not a mouse.”, these would be perfectly relevant to my argument. Of course, one could contest if indeed Mickey Mouse was a mouse or that Donald Duck is not a mouse, etc. I feel the argument not only is valid, but that the argument does not beg the question.

Now we are simply faced with the challenge of determining if we think Premise 2 is true or not. This question seems to have more complexity than the former because of ambiguity of definition – more specifically, what distinction shall we make of its essentials from its incidentals. In other words, what of the mind can we remove and still call the resultant entity a “mind”? From a neurological or psychological point of view, we do divide the mind into “parts”, but this, as Descartes himself points out when he mentions “parts” such as willing or understanding, is merely our effort to analyze specific functions or study the mechanics of nature and is not necessarily a “true” division.

To aid us, let us approach this issue from two distinct angles: the physical and the mental. Can the “mind” be divided physically? Descartes himself acknowledges a link between the brain and the mind, but continues to relegate it to a mere corporeal part, having an effect on the mind (Descartes, 61) just as your foot or your nerves, or indeed as the sight of a butterfly, may have an effect on your mind (the common link being things external to “the mind”). In other words, there is no absolute link, and the brain itself may be a cause of sensory or even cognitive error (Descartes, 61). Thus Descartes would say cut as much from the brain as you like, you would render the body incapable of perceptions and functions, but the mind is not what is being altered directly (in its essence).

From a non-material point of view, what if a person “lost” a part of his mind – what do we mean? We seem to make a distinction between essential and non-essential mental function. For example, we treat a person who suffers amnesia differently from one who is psychotic. One has lost the function of past memory but is still considered “sane” while the other is deemed out of touch with reality and mentally “ill”. Descartes himself mentions the example of madmen whose perceptions do not match reality (Descartes, 18) – yet we do not say that these people do not actually have minds, merely that they are dysfunctional. If dysfunction or loss does not render the mind literally “gone”, what actually does?

To take the case of non-material “parts” further, it seems that the mind is in essence not merely a collection of parts, and this is perhaps the point Descartes is trying to strike home. For example, there are stories of people who switch physical identities, keeping their “minds” or personalities, etc. while changing on the outside. In the story “Flowers for Algernon”, the main character undergoes changes in intelligence, which in some ways affect his personality. We do not think of a person who undergoes a lobotomy as a different person. Different in some ways, even in many ways, yes – we might say that someone “doesn’t seem himself” but we still recognize the person’s essence as something which transcends physical, mental, and even personality changes.

It seems then that for Descartes, if the “mind” is missing, then it is simply another way of saying the “essence” is missing. So the “mind” to Descartes is more a specific identity. In other words, you can splice a person from other people, and you would have a specific mass of parts collected into a new “body”, yet if you were to splice “pieces” of a mind, you would render the original “parts” devoid of essence, and furthermore not be able to form a new “essence”. It is like saying you take a part of someone’s existence – and this you cannot do. A person either exists or does not. So it seems that Premise 2 is also True. Therefore, the argument, which is valid, must also be True. However, a criticism might still be the muddling of the definition of “mind” with “existential identity” or at the very least being vague or ill-defined (perhaps he defines it more coherently elsewhere, but for a common-man understanding of this argument).

Despite the brilliance of Descartes’ argument, the question remains (perhaps due to the very criticism mentioned above): are the body and mind separate things? Modern science has shown ever-more evidence that the two are intertwined. Although the brain is vital to the body’s function, it seems that the body can be “brain dead” and yet kept in a vegetative state through medical facilitation. In the natural world, creatures with physical bodies exist without brains (eg plants). Therefore, the brain may be vital to a human being’s functioning, yet it does not seem essential for a physical creature (ie a body) to think (ie to have a mind).

So what of a mind existing without a body? We know that physical maneuvers (eg stimulating a certain part of the brain) incites corresponding mental reactions. There is definitely a physical basis for mental functions. So the actual question should be redefined as something more specific: are the mind and the brain independent? Again, a lot goes back to definitions – if we mean mental functions such as “cognition” etc. it is conceivable (as Descartes mentions) to have thinking beings without physical bodies (many people believe God thinks but is not a corporeal substance – however, it seems one cannot escape from the idea of a locus, even if immaterial). Perhaps Descartes was right in that the idea of mind is itself tied up in existential identity. Whatever mind/body connection there is (or isn’t), there is still an (as yet) undefined “gestalt” quality (the sum being larger than the dissected constituent parts). In conclusion, I do think that the mind and body are independent, yet with the humble consideration that this question, like most philosophical ones, might well defy absolute analysis.

Work Cited

Descartes, Rene, Meditations on First Philosophy, with Selections from the Objections and

Replies, translated by J. Cottingham, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986.

Summary:

Euthyphro is on his way to do a “pious” deed when Socrates asks him, “What is piety?” When Euthyphro replies that it is what the gods consider pious, Socrates points out two main considerations:

1. that the gods may disagree so that something is considered both pious and impious at the same time

2. that piety (or goodness) ought to be an independent quality and not an arbitrary whim of what the gods approve of, otherwise the word “pious” has little or no value – that something is given a title based upon its attributes and not the other way around

Analysis:

1. this point, while excellent for the time and place of the figure of Euthyphro, is not relevant to situations of monotheism or a singular, coherent religious code of ethics

2. this point, while a good criticism of the circular nature of the word “pious”, does not offer an alternative (it merely points out that the definition ought to be independent, but does not offer a useful definition) – the thing is, no matter what the definition of “pious” or “good” is that is offered, it will need further justification; it may seem obviously “absurd” or “arbitrary” to answer the question “What is piety” as “What God approves”, since the next question will be “Is there a reason God approves something?” – however, ANY way you answer the question, you will be forced to explain further – for example, if you were to answer “It is to do unto others what you would have done to you”, then the further question would be “Is there a reason why it is desirable to do unto others what you would have done to you” – in other words, if the definition of x is y, one can always question y, no matter what it is (the first response may instinctively feel like it is assuming a standard, but the second one is also)

Final Point:

I believe there is a great distinction between something which is “good” and something which is “pious”. Although I do believe society/man can come up with (although unlikely) an “independent” definition of what “good” is, the very definition of “piety” is NOT equivalent to “what is good” since “goodness” can be used in both a religious or a non-religious context, while “piety” is solely used in a religious context. Thus, although it may seem “arbitrary” to answer that “piety” is merely “what God approves of”, it is in fact, the only sensible definition for it – and it should not be SOUGHT for it to be explained in terms that are independent of Him.

Baruch Spinoza and Robert Boyle were giants in their respective fields during the burgeoning examination of the relationship between philosophy and science which characterized the Scientific Revolution. The prevailing physical philosophy of the time was mechanical philosophy, which was to displace the long-held Aristotelian traditions.[1] At that time Henry Oldenberg was Secretary (he was also the first) of the Royal Society, the authoritative academic organization which pursued scientific development, and it was Oldenberg who initiated a correspondence with Spinoza, due to the former’s pursuit of all persons of contemporary academic excellence (W.38). Although Oldenberg corresponded with Spinoza in twenty-eight letters, he served as intermediary between Boyle and Spinoza for five of them (W.34).[2] In 1661 Oldenberg sent Spinoza Boyle’s “Certain Physiological Essays” (which contained his nitre experiment) and elicited Spinoza’s reaction to it (Gabbey 1996, p. 149). The question “Is matter qualitative or quantitative?” was central to this series of letters exchanged between them.

In his introduction to a collection of Boyle’s work, Stewart maintains that “he had a fruitless exchange on scientific matters with Spinoza…” (S.xxxi). However, this paper attempts to outline some of the benefits which can be extracted from the correspondence of two important figures who stressed different aspects and approaches to our understanding of the universe. The first section of this paper will set forth the physical theories of Spinoza and Boyle. The second part will take into account their correspondence on such topics, focusing on Boyle’s nitre experiments. The third part of the paper will attempt to show that neither Spinoza nor Boyle achieved a conclusive demonstration of their positions (respective to the exchange) based upon analysis of their exchanges on the experiment in question. The fourth and final part will summarize a list of philosophical points which are useful to philosophy, in particular the philosophy of science and the physical world.

Boyle was primarily a scientist and a defender of the mechanical philosophy (with his corpuscular variation) and claimed that “the material world is made up of corpuscles of the one impenetrable matter possessing a definite shape and size and capable of motion” (Chalmers 2009, p. 97). He was a pioneer of experimental science, and acknowledged two forms of knowledge: “intermediate causes” involved in experimental science which were empirically accessible, and ultimate mechanical truth, which was not (ibid). He agreed with the proposition of Baconian science – that experiments measured observable bodies and detectable properties (Chalmers 2009, p. 99). He restricted science to material terms, with no appeal to God in relation to experiments (God exists but experimentalism’s scope does not include Him) (Chalmers 2009, p. 100).

However, his experiments with pneumatics involved pressure, etc. and were not strictly mechanical (this was acknowledged by Boyle). He realized that all of the scientific phenomena of the time were not adequately covered by the mechanical philosophy alone (for example, in describing the cohesion of a snowball, etc.) (Chalmers 2009, p. 104). He thus claimed that experiments are subject-specific (Chalmers 2009, p. 98). In his time, Thomas Hobbes, a fellow mechanical philosopher, criticized Boyle for his descriptions of the “elasticity” of air, and maintained that Boyle had provided no explanation of how it moves itself and thus had contradicted mechanical philosophy. Boyle himself admitted that it was not a mechanical explanation, yet he had shown experimentally that air has a spring and that this quality can be appealed to (Chalmers 2009, p. 109). Boyle maintained that work needed to be guided by “grand hypotheses”, but under scrutiny, he changed its aim to the establishment of “matters of fact” (ibid).

He was more than ever opposed to going back to Aristotlean forms and the Greek position of giving an account of the reality behind the appearances, or “primary affections” (Chalmers 2009, p. 105). Instead, like Bacon, he felt that science was merely a set of “histories”, and that experimentation was different than mechanical philosophy. The highest level of causes may be important for human beings to discover, but in actuality they may be different from what we suppose them. He cautions that “we may aspire to, but must not always require or expect, such a knowledge of things as is immediately derived from first principles.” (Chalmers 2009, p. 106). So experimental science had “subordinate principles” and “intermediate causes” only (ibid).

He acknowledged that experimental knowledge is not infallible, and that unknown causes can lead to errors. Therefore its primary function was to rule out untenable alternatives and refine the theories (Chalmers 2009, p. 109). He saw that at the extreme end there were metaphysics which were not possible to be tested (Chalmers 2009, p. 110). The main difference between a theory of mechanical philosophy and experiments was that the former required more proof, since it was not a “matter of fact” (Chalmers 2009, p. 111). Boyle claimed that mechanical philosophy was simply a useful tool, like a cipher in solving a puzzle (the idea that evidence was more a function of accommodation versus confirmation of the truth) (Chalmers 2009, p. 112).

On the other hand, Gabbey maintains that it is difficult to know the exact methodology of Spinoza’s physical theory and notes his absence in the authoritative “Dictionary of Scientific Biography” as proof of his not being considered a “proper scientist” (although some works do include him) (Gabbey 1996, pp. 142-148). Savan maintains that for Spinoza, science was “incidental” to major concerns of salvation, ethics, etc. (Savan 1986, p. 100). Spinoza’s physical science was loosely Cartesian (in both content and method) and indeed he reworked Descartes’s “Principles of Philosophy” (Gabbey 1996, p. 155). Like Descartes, he derived a priori his natural laws, claiming they were merely attributes of God (Gabbey 1996, p. 156). He believed that there was only extension and mode – that it is size, shape, and motion alone which distinguish substances, and that individual bodies are individuated by motion and rest alone. He believed that bodies are not made of different substances but are modifications of a single substance. He believed even that man himself was a part of nature, and that there was no such thing as “interference” with “nature”, that everything which happens in nature is a modification of one substance (Gabbey 1996, pp. 180- 1). He was however, not an Occasionalist (there was no outside influence of God) (Garber 1988, p. 593) rather bodies were infused with inherent activity (Garber 1988, p. 594).

Like the prevalent theories of the day, Spinoza’s physical theory was dismissive of occult qualities, yet it was also distinguished by its antagonism to experimentalism. Spinoza maintained that empirical findings at best give examples of what reason already demonstrates, and that experimentation was useful but not conclusive. Experimentation was insufficient to gain absolute knowledge and so had limited utility. Although more aloof from practical science, Spinoza nonetheless kept abreast of the latest developments and corresponded with many contemporary figures on the subject (Gabbey 1996 p. 148). He wanted to strive towards a “unified body of interrelated demonstrative truths” and sought in his methodology “the Whole” as opposed to Atomism (Gabbey 1996, pp. 156-7). He agrees with the Baconian notion that science was merely “natural and experimental histories” and felt that natural interpretation can be likened to Scriptural interpretation – that there ought to be a basis from which to derive interpretation (Gabbey 1996, p. 170). Also like Bacon, he believed in the fact that experiential vaga, or random experimentation, could only obtain so much – that it must be directed to produce any results (Gabbey 1996, p. 172).

The result was that Spinoza wanted to “eliminate the explanatory appeal to incorporeal things in the physical world, without eliminating those things themselves” (Garber 1988, p. 591). He believed in a parallel of bodies and thought and God/Nature had infinite attributes (ibid). Spinoza’s “true Method” was “the knowledge alone of the pure understanding”. Thus experimentation can only confirm incontrovertible logical truths, and vaga was “not determined by the intellect” (Gabbey 1996, pp. 171-2). Perceptions lead to inferences, yet counter-examples can be produced, so they are not infallible (ibid). Experimentation is useful but not conclusive (Gabbey 1996, p. 175). He actually saw no distinction between everyday experience and scientific reasoning (Savan 1986, p. 108).

E.W. von Tschirnhaus, in his own correspondence with him, criticized Spinoza’s “Method”, claiming that “Method is nothing but a reflexive knowledge” (Gabbey 1996, p. 177) and that “Method” doesn’t give new information but only what is already established while experimentation can give only sensory knowledge and not causes (ibid). Maull asserts that Spinoza seeks certainty and needs only a few experiments to “know” something (given his philosophically tight deductive approach) and raises the question: “Why given Spinoza’s apparent interest in experiment, is he so estranged from it philosophically?” (Maull 1986, p. 7). She concludes, “Consequently, what we get from Spinoza is a physical theory…that is neither drawn from nor applicable to a concrete embodiment in particular natural phenomena.” (Maull 1986, pp. 8-10).

One of Boyle’s essays discussed in particular was “On Nitre, Fluidity, and Firmness” (W.84). It described the following experiment: a glowing coal was placed upon on nitre (saltpeter and potassium nitrate) which produced fixed (fixed nitre, potash, and potassium carbonate) and volatile (spirit of nitre and nitric acid) parts. (Gabbey 1996, p. 178). The parts were then recombined and quantitatively almost the same amount of nitre was recovered. Boyle concluded that nitre is a chemical compound (not a mechanical mixture) consisting of parts substantially different in physical and chemical natures. He observed that the spirit was acidic and the fixed portion was alkaline. These differences in turn upheld the corpuscular theory of nature (individual parts were maintained) but not substantial forms, given the altered substances (Gabbey 1996, p. 177-8).

From the outset of their correspondence, Spinoza felt that Bacon had “more than adequately demonstrated” substantial qualities based on mechanics (motion, shape, etc.) (Gabbey 1996, p. 171). In Letter IV, Spinoza makes no distinction between the parts derived in the experiment and sees no reason for Boyle’s conclusion. He goes on to give his own mechanical explanation that they are all the same (W.85-86). He also conducts his own experiments and further explains Boyle’s observations of taste and flammability (W.87-89). He goes on to decry the superfluity of experimentation and holds that common observations suffice as well (W.91). He says, “It does not immediately follow that a particle of matter acquires a new shape because it is joined to another: it only follows that it becomes larger, and this is sufficient to produce the effect which the very illustrious author seeks in this section.” (W.93). Spinoza’s objection was that Boyle needed a further experiment to actually prove that nitre and spirit of nitre were different. He maintained that fixed nitre was only an “impurity” in the original. He further demanded that multiple experiments were required to test if indeed the same quantity was always reproduced (Gabbey 1996, p. 178). Spinoza went on to theorize that nitre and its spirit had fixed, rigid, carrot-shaped parts (the same). Boyle had claimed that he had reached “primary and mechanical affectations” but Spinoza claimed that Boyle had not give a mechanical account – that a conclusive account should show geometrical particle differentiation. (Gabbey 1996, p. 179).

Oldenberg replies in Letter XI that: The object that he [Boyle] had set before himself was not so much to show that this was a really philosophic and perfect analysis of Nitre, but rather to explain that the common Doctrine of Substantial Forms and Qualities which is also accepted in the Schools, rests on a weak foundation, and that what they call the specific differences of things can be reduced to the magnitude, motion, rest and position of their parts.[…] Meanwhile, he thinks that your suppositions about the process, your view that the fixed salt of the Nitre is as it were its dregs, and other similar suppositions, are gratuitous and unproved.” (W.110-111). He agrees with Spinoza that nitre and its spirit are the same, but holds they are not the same forms due to the observations (W.111-12). He goes on to clarify Boyle’s intentions – that he did not think other writers in his time had clearly given mechanical explanations and only sought to improve the situation and concludes: “Our Boyle belongs to the number of those who have not so much confidence in their reason as to wish that Phenomena should agree with their reason.” (W.112). He also claims there is a difference between common experiments where there are unknown Natural contributions and isolated experiments which rule them out (ibid).

In Letter XIII, Spinoza says that he did not think Boyle’s motive was only to disavow the doctrine of substantial forms. Rather he felt that Boyle really wanted to explain the nature of nitre and its heterogeneous body whereas he did not necessarily achieve this. He went on to say that it was not necessary to prove his own suppositions – that he had merely to suppose them as an alternative. He reiterated that his experiment on flammability was only to show what common experience held and that indeed even his own experiments only confirmed reason “to a certain extent” (W.124). He goes on to pose what he considers an important unanswered question related to the experiment: Does it cease to be nitre if the particles are rubbed until their shapes change? (W.127). Spinoza again stresses the superfluity of experimentation: Why would it be clearer or prove more than common experience could? He counters that Boyle’s example of burning wood (which he gave as an example of something more simple) is not conclusive since, Spinoza claims, we know the actual nature of either so what is the difference? How does Boyle know what nature actually contributed in the case of this experiment, although it is claimed that the causes are isolated in the laboratory? He gives a counterexample of a “simple” phenomenon, of dye affecting matter – and claims that there may be imperceptible changes in quality (for example odor) or the example of amber, which cannot be perceived until heat is applied to it: How would we rest assured that indeed we had isolated the barest causes and some imperceptible agent was not the true cause? (W.128-9). He says that rather his own explanation is simpler and better than Boyle’s and that his own experiments confirm his hypothesis “to some extent” (Savan 1986, p. 115). Boyle declined to give an exact mechanical commentary and maintained that he had only showed that nitre had been broken up and built up, thus ridding the reliance upon substantial forms, which Spinoza took for granted (Chalmers 2009, p. 109).

In Letter XVI Oldenberg requests Spinoza to please read the preface of the work and to understand the intent was never to explain nature, rather make recordings of a “certain heterogeneity” observed in the experiment. After a few more replies and minor considerations, the exchange was at an end, Boyle remaining silent on many of Spinoza’s exacting insistences (W.136-7).

In analyzing the exchange, Wolf mentions in his introduction that: Spinoza…was a philosopher first and foremost. He was certainly interested also in science […] But his interests were mainly directed to the wider issues involved – issues for which Boyle had little understanding and less appreciation. So the two were not likely to pull well together. Spinoza, indeed, recognized and appreciated the importance of such detailed observations and experiments as Boyle was carrying out and recording. But he also realized their shortcomings, and was candid enough to express his thoughts. (W.42) and states that the “mechanical interpretation of natural phenomena” was the “most important aspect of [the] correspondence” (W.42). Savan points out that Spinoza’s approach was rather “ad hoc” and his experiments were solely conducted as a criticism of Boyle’s work (Savan 1986, p. 95). Gabbey mentions that the further quantitative experiments that Spinoza proposed would also show if fixed nitre was indeed an “impurity” and wondered why he felt his own supposition did not need to be proved as well (Gabbey 1996, p. 178). Gabbey furthermore finds utility in the exchange, urging, “We ought to look afresh at Spinoza’s insistence on the epistemological insufficiencies of the experimental way.” (Gabbey 1996, p. 180). Maull says that Spinoza had “no need to embrace any standard of justification that fell short of deductive proof” (Maull 1986, p. 6) and claims that in posing questions about what experimentation actually yields, the results of both Boyle’s and Spinoza’s experimentations were inconclusive. At any rate, mechanical philosophy was justified by mathematical proofs from “higher principles” which led Descartes himself ultimately to stress that he had only “moral certainty” (ibid). Maull concludes: Spinoza did not consider Boyle’s experiments useless; rather a documentation of every liquid with accuracy; a history or cataloge of nature, but that commonplace observations were equivalent to experimentations, all of which yielded no hypotheses of nature (Maull 1986, p. 7).

As for the philosophical fruits which can be derived from this exchange, I give the following useful point: Which comes first: theory or experimentation? This seems to be the central tension between philosophy and science, one which was well-exemplified in the exchange between Boyle and Spinoza (among countless others). The record of interplay between the two throughout history seems to indicate a cyclic quality which itself continually furthers the progress of both fields. Spinoza and Boyle both claimed that the highest causes were unknowable (although Spinoza, being mainly a philosopher, had more adeptness in sticking to this than did Boyle, immured in the practical field of science). Yet, it is impossible to have only theory, because what we are trying to discover the truth of (ie the universe) is something unknowable without some experience (for example, it is not a logical truth that things made of glass break when dropped upon a hard surface but simply a truth within a system). Contrariwise, experimentation without theory, as Bacon himself posited, is useless and is akin to random scribblings in the dark. Our actions, whether right or wrong, must be guided by theory. Yet, these theories are suppositions of “truth” or “causes”, the very thing which both Spinoza and Boyle (among countless others) acknowledge in the end. I propose that this is a necessary and useful tension. I close with a quote from Chalmers that “What was scientific about the scientific revolution, in my view, was the emergence of experimental science as distinct from philosophical theories about the ultimate structure of matter.” (Chalmers 2009, p. 97).

Abbreviations:

E = Spinoza, Benedict de. Improvement of the Understanding, Ethics and Correspondence. Trans. R. H. M. Elwes. London: M. Walter Dunne, 1901.

S = Selected Philosophical Papers of Robert Boyle. Ed. M. A. Stewart. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 1991.

W = The Correspondence of Spinoza. Ed. and trans. A. Wolf. New York: The Dial Press.

Bibliography:

Chalmers, Alan. 2009. The Scientist’s Atom and the Philosopher’s Stone: How Science Succeeded and Philosophy Failed to Gain Knowledge of Atoms. Boston Studies in the Philosophy of Science #279. Berlin: Springer.

Gabbey, Alan. 1996. “Spinoza’s Natural Science and Methodology.” In Garrett 1996, pp. 142-191.

Garber, Daniel. 1988. “New Doctrines of Body and its Powers, Place, and Space.” In Garber , vol. 1, pp. 553-623.

Garber, Daniel, ed. 1988. The Cambridge History of Seventeenth-Century Philosophy: Two Volumes. New York: Cambridge University Press.

Garrett, Don, ed. 1996. The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza. New York: Cambridge University Press.

Grene, Marjorie, and Debra Nails, eds. 1986. Spinoza and the Sciences. Boston Studies in the Philosophy of Science Vol. 91. Dordrecht: D. Reidel Publishing Co.

Maull, Nancy. “Spinoza in the Century of Science.” In Grene, pp. 3-13.

Savan, David. “Spinoza: Scientist and Theorist of Scientific Method.” In Grene, pp. 95- 123.

[1] See Garber 1988, p. 553 for a general overview of the emerging mechanist philosophy, and pages 585 and 588 to see overviews of Descartes’s views as well as a note on the corpuscular philosophy.

[2] See the same citation for Wolf’s assertions as to the plausible cause of why a more direct correspondence was avoided.

my brother sent me this (ha ha you can see how bored some people are at work) and i thought it would be something dumb - but the dude that did this really did it proper, it was cool and any wannabe-philosopher (I got called that by someone once lol) will enjoy it (I formatted for presentation purposes but didnt bother getting the square root symbol):

1. Women = Time x Money (Assumption 1: a = b*c)

2. Time = Money (Assumption 2: b = c)

3. Women = Money x Money = Money2 (squared) (Derivation 1: a = b2)

4. Money = v—Evil (root) (Assumption 3: c = root of d)

5. Women = (v—Evil )2 (root of Evil squared) (Derivation: a = root of d squared)

6. Women = Evil (Conclusion: a = d)

As with any argument, if the assumptions are true and the derivations valid, the conclusion must be true.

And please, in advance, all of you ready to say “you hate women! you hate men! you hate philosophers! you hate pretentious people who call you a wannabe-philosopher! you hate people who overreact and have no sense of humor! etc.” just chill all right - I don’t hate anyone except myself sometimes. So enjoy it, thanks to my brother, and hats off to the guy who did it - it’s brilliant. (Yes, I enjoy nerdy stuff like this a lot. And no, I don’t get out much.)

Maybe it’s just me, but have these three questions, deemed ancient and unanswerable, seemed really obvious to you?

 1. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

Duh, the chicken. Whether you believe in Creationism or in Evolution (I myself believe God created what He mentions, but leave the rest open as it wasn’t specified - I’m not sure about Darwinian evolultion specifically, but obviously things have evolved over time), the answer is always the chicken. No one thinks the egg “actually” came first. It’s supposed to be one of those annoying “This is the song that never ends” type questions, isn’t it?

2. If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is around, does it make a sound?

Yes, I have heard the official reply of “well, if a human being isn’t there and is not receiving the sound, how do we know etc.”. How do we know? Because we don’t have to be there in every instance of something to confidently predict behavior. It’s egocentric to use a particular definition of “sound” to only mean “that which is received by the human ear” etc. That is equivalent to saying sight is only what a human eye observes, so if we are not there to look at something, it can’t have a shape or appearance. Therefore, since we observe that when a tree falls, it makes a sound, so if “a” tree (meaning a generic instance) falls, it should also make a sound. We do not have to cover wildly remote possibilities such as “But what if the tree was alive and before it fell, it ran away so there was no sound!” So, yes, if a tree falls in the woods, it makes a sound.

3. What is the sound of one hand clapping?

The answer is there is no sound, except if you want to get to a microlevel and register wind resistance, etc. In fact, here we go with the “sound” obsession again! If the definition of “clapping” is to just move your hand back and forth (whether it hits another hand or not) then, it’s nothing. If the definition of clapping is that it must hit another hand or object, then the question is either incoherent or at least undefined until specified by the questioner.

I’ve always been “deep” and “analytical” so I’m probably looking too far into these questions. All my life I’ve been told to “relax” and that I “think too much”. So I’m probably missing the point entirely here, but if anyone can explain these to me, I’d be much obliged. :)

[originally written a few weeks ago]

I don’t really believe in philosophy. But then again I do. Ayn Rand told me that I need philosophy. I don’t know about that. It all depends, of course, on how you define it.

If philosophy is merely thought or systems of belief, then yes, I do believe in it and have naturally partaken in it my whole life. But if it is that very lofty science studied in universities and dabbled in at coffee houses, then I actually do not believe it has produced much in the way of consideration. (By the way, my parents were appalled when they thought I was going into PSYchology, imagine their reaction when they found out it was PHILosophy.)

There are advances in science, medicine, even the arts if, aside from the early development of say, perspective, pushing the envelope and altering the way people view subject matter are considered advances. Yet, what are the recent developments in philosophy? Was it groundbreaking when Frederick Nietzsche declared that “God is dead”? The idea has been around since almost the beginning of humanity. I mean it was no modern cynical viewpoint - people rejected the messengers and prophets from way back. I guess he just had more elaborate reasons for positing his view. Maybe philosophy is simply the possession of eloquence.

So what’s new? The idea that philosophy is not as fruitful a science as one would have you believe has been termed “post-analytic philosophy”. Yet the irony is that post-analytic philosophers essentially utilize analytic philosophy to arrive at their conclusion. The basic idea is that every argument has an assumption, which of course, has a proof behind it, which begins with another assumption ad infinitum. One can never really prove anything.

But wait, I’m not necessarily saying that. Philosophy as a whole does contain some useful components. I do think logic is useful and often utilize it myself. It would be inane not to use logic in our daily lives – in court, in astronomy, even in other arenas such as politics and religion. So I do believe logic and reasoning have a place in life and are natural facilitators for thoughts and conclusions. I simply don’t think they are adequate tools to measure every facet of life. Some things defy logic or cannot be contained therein.

Aside from the obvious exceptions to the absolute dicta of paper-and-pencil logic such as love or faith, I mean I don’t even think philosophy capable of proving anything. I don’t even mean in the post-analytic sense, where I reject the idea as a logical impossibility, but I just haven’t come across a proof that actually works.

Let’s take Renee Descartes for example. I have the highest respect for this fellow. He was brilliant, a genius. Yet his famous proof “I think, therefore I am”, often considered by analytic philosophers to be one of the few bullet-proof proofs, often bewilders me.

First of all, I believe proving existence is a very different case than proving other things. For example, if you are saying that plants contain chlorophyll, and trees are plants, therefore trees contain chlorophyll – you are taking a subject: a plant, and proving something about it. However, when discussing existence, how can you “take” something which has yet to be proven? Are you not presupposing existence by referring to it or mentioning it? In this case, Descartes begins with “I”. The “I” seems to be well-defined for all intents and purposes yet the argument is supposed to prove its existence? It seemed a tautology to me throughout my college years (by the way I am a philosophy major dropout – surprise, surprise). So in logical terms he seems to be saying “A is B, therefore A is A” (A referring to the original subject, B referring to its state of being, and the conclusion proving what it presupposed).

Another point: since Descartes is actually using the “I” in both instances, can we not translate this into a mathematical supposition? He is basically saying: A is B, therefore A is C (A referring to the original subject, B referring to its attribute, the conclusion stating that A therefore possesses a second attribute). This does not make any sense mathematically. Can we interchange it then with any quality of existence? For example, if something is pink, then it exists since pink is an attribute or quality of existing things. So the cat is pink, therefore it must exist? Or “I eat, therefore I am?” (I think I’ve read funny T-shirts or mugs like that come to think of it! I think they had to do with golfing or something. Oh, how droll that a commoner can overturn an elevated intellectual *snicker* though probably unintentionally.)

In other words, is existence exclusively tied to thinking or can it be traced to other “existentially essential” attributes or activities such as “feeling” (which I think is one of the penultimate characteristics of human beings – think artificial intelligence; I don’t mean existence is tied to human beings, but that Descarte’s original problem was how would we know if we didn’t exist but were misled/deceived to think we were, thereby eliminating most sensory perceptions; perhaps he did equate feeling with thinking)? After all, there are a lot of things which exist which don’t think. Republicans, for instance.

For the record, I totally get what Descartes means, and is why I think this argument is brilliant and worthy of its fame, but “getting someone” just doesn’t seem to cut it for analytic philosophers. (I remember having a discussion with my professor where I exasperatedly asked, “Don’t you get what I mean?” and he said, “No”.) I think Descartes is right, just for the wrong reasons.

I remember in my intro to philosophy class we were talking about logical possibilities (particularly related to discussions about God). And we were discussing how ideas (such as God) could be incoherent- in other words you could have a concept which just wasn’t possible logically, such as a 4-sided triangle since a triangle by definition was a 3-sided object and if an object was 4-sided it defied being a triangle – hence a contradiction which couldn’t exist. And the professor went to the board and talked about all the “possible” and “impossible” things and what struck me is he drew a diagram on the board. So there we were actually looking at a sphere of “impossible” things which didn’t exist – and we were looking at them (well, looking at a depiction of a category of them) and talking about them, but they didn’t exist! I mean, it’s almost like they DID exist if you know what I mean. (uh, “no”)

Anyway, I’ve always been “philosophical” – people always told me I was too “deep” and I had trouble making/keeping friends due to my frightfully serious conversations and lack of social skills. I went into philosophy because it was natural, as I was always pondering things (in fact in my 2^nd year of college, when introducing myself as the teacher suggested by telling our hobbies, I precociously said, “thinking”, not meaning to be stuffy, but just honest), and I was never so excited as getting my hands on a really original, well articulated idea. I was an idealist, and felt that I could find the answers to life and then go and live them. I really ended up finding that while it wasn’t too hard to disprove almost anything, it was almost impossible to prove anything.

So it was a lot of fun, but not very useful. I still can’t really stay away from it, but I don’t think of it as anything more serious really than playing a game of solitaire when I’m bored. I remember a lot of Muslims telling me it would screw me up to delve into manmade ideas and that I would be misguided and lose my religion. I was naïve and thought that I had nothing to fear since I had the Truth. It turns out I was right to be idealistic, but I can see their point. I do think it’s not for everyone. But what I found out was that in the end, religion is one of the few things out there with actual answers.

So is it just me, do I just not get it? I honestly can’t tell. And I certainly couldn’t prove anything I’ve said here one way or another - I can only hope for the best, that I was “eloquent”. My brain sometimes feels wrapped around itself when I think too much. I figure either I’ve made some brilliant (ok, I’ll settle for good) points here or you have simply been privy to the ramblings of the insane.