I made the generalization that the thinkers of the 18th century,
particularly those peopel we call the philosophes, turned to
reason for answers
to mankind's problems. They thought reason would end poverty,
war, injustice, help them create the ideal political and social system,
and give them the ultimate answers in religion.
Certainly some of the philosophes had great faith in reason: Diderot
and Condorcet are good examples of this. Rousseau is a somewhat
more ambiguous figure. Some of his work points toward the
Romantic movement with its emphasis on emotion and natural impulse
rather than reason. But he also had to an extent a great deal
of faith in reason--at least his own. He seems to have been
quite confident that the ideas in his "Social Contract" would form a
solid basis for creating a better political and social system.
Likewise, he seems to believe that his own religious ideas are superior
to traditional Christianity.
Like so many of the Philosophes, Rousseau drifts away from
Traditional Christianity toward a religious philosophy we call Deism.
The easiest way to think of Deism is as an attempt to create a
"religion of reason."
Now one might think that if one wanted a reasonable religion,
Christianity was the way to go. In the 17th century, writers like
Locke had certainly thought so. Locke's "Reasonableness of
Christianity," for instance, tried to show that Christian teaching
consisted mostly of things in accord with reason, i.e., that reason
itself would show to be true even without scriptural
confirmation. Locke argued that, while some aspects of
Christianity were "above reason," i.e., things that could not be proved
through reason alone, there was nothing at all in it that was contrary
to reason.
The philosopes admired Locke, but many of them had trouble with the
parts of Christianity that were "above reason." They wanted a
religion that had things in accord with reason, but nothing at all
above reason let alone contrary to reason. The Deist philosophy
seemed to fit the bill.
Deism kept certain elements of traditional Christianity that seemed
reasonable. Belief in God seemed reasonable: supported by things
like the "first cause" argument and the "argument from design."
Christian morality seemed reasonable as well: do unto others as you
would have them do unto you makes logical sense.
But the Deists didn't like aspects of Christianity they considered
superstitious. The didn't believe in Satan or demons. They
didn't believe in miracles (which, by definition, are above
reason). They didn't like priests or religious rituals.
Thomas Jefferson is an excellent example of the Deist
philosophy. Jefferson came up with his own version of the New
Testament in which he kept the things that he liked and eliminated the
things he didn't. Things like the parables and the Sermon on the
Mount were things Jefferson loved. But the virgin birth, the
miracles of healing, the resurrection--all those things had to go.
Some Deists were confident that reason could do more than simply
give them a religious philosophy more to their own taste than
traditional Christianity. Some of thiem thought reason alone
could solve difficult philosophical problems, e.g., the problem of evil.
The "problem of evil" is essentially this: if the world is created
by an all powerful, all good, all loving God, how could there possibly
be evil in the world? Judaism and traditional Christianity had
some solid answers. The books of Job, Habakkuk, and Daniel, for
instance, all deal effectively with the problem of evil. But, to
a certain extent, the traditional answers posited the existence of an
evil force contrary to God: a devil at work.
The Deists didn't believe in the devil, so traditional answers to
the problem of evil didn't work so well for them. To solve the
problem of evil, many of them turned to a philosophy called Optimism.
Optimism was a religious philosophy developed by Gottfried Leibnitz
in the 17th century. Leibnitz himself was a brilliant
thinker. He was a master of many languages, and one of the
greatest mathematicians in history. He invented calculus (yes,
I know, I told you Newton invented calculus, but both men were
working along the same lines, and they both deserve credit).
In addressing the problem of evil, Leibnitz said to look first
at the composition of the world. All things in this world
are composed of what he called monads. All these monads
were together in one great harmonius whole guided by the Great Monad,
God.
Now it's nice to feel one is part of a great harmonius whole.
"You are a child of the universe," said that old 60's song, "as much as
the trees and stars you have a right to be here." All well and
good. But it's obvious that we are *not* always working together
in one great harmonius whole. Things go wrong all the time.
What's happening? Is the Great Mondad slipping up?
No, says Leibnitz. The Great Monad considered for us all
possible worlds. What kind of worlds could he have created?
Well, he might have created a world with lots of evil and no
good. He might have created a world with no evil, but only a
little bit of good. Or, he might have created a world with a
little bit of evil, but lots of good. Of all the possible
combinations, the Great Mondad choose for us the best: the world that
does have a little bit of evil, but the world with lots of good.
We are living in the "best of all possible worlds," and that is
what the Optimist philosophy is, the idea that we live in the optimim
world, the best of all possible worlds.
But why did the Great Monad not give us a world with lots of good
and no evil? Because, says Leibnitz, that is not a possible
world. In order for there to be much good in the world, we have
to be something other than robots. We have to have free
will. But the possibility of free will meant that monads could
deviate from the general harmony set up by the Great Monad: there would
be evil in the world. And so to get the great good of free will
(for ust to be something other than programmed robots) it was necessary
to introduce a little bit of evil into the world.
For some of the Philosophes, this seemed very plausible. The
Optimist philsophy had successfully used reason to solve the problem of
evil!
[Editing stops here. Be
careful how you use what follows. There are mistakes.]
Not all philosophes, however, werequite this confident. One such, Voltaire. Voltaire in some ways the best reasoner of all the philosophes--yet also the one who saw most clearly the limits of reason. Voltaire especially critical of ideas of the optimists, who thought they could use reason to address the problem of evil, i.e. to explain how, if the world was the creation of a good God, there could be evil and suffering in the world. Voltaire satirizes their ideas unmercifully in Candide.
Voltaire attacks first the ideas that this is the best of all possible worlds. Even in the beginning, all is not truly well, though Voltaire describes the castle where Candide grows up as the best of all possible castles in the best of all possible worlds. Note, for instance, that Candide's mother wouldn't marry his father--because dad could only prove 71 generations of ancestry! This kind of thing is absurd, certainly unnecessary in the best of all possible worlds. But, while even in the beginning not all is perfect, things go downhill from there. Candide kicked out of the castle, forced into the army. Cunegonde raped, stabbed, left for dead. Pangloss on the point of death from Syphillis. The book is filled with accounts of horrible things happening to people: women are raped and mutilated, men tortured and killed for no reason at all, earthquakes destroy thousands of people. Further, all this happens without any rhyme or reason. Good people die, while the evil prosper (James the Anabaptist drowned by the worthless sailor whose life he saves).
But is it truly without rhyme or reason? Isn't all this evil necessary to bring some greater good? Voltaire considers that argument (p. 26). Syphillis necessary so we could have chocolate!
What happens to free will? Voltaire makes it clear that there's no such thing. Cf. Candide: choice between bullet through brain and running a gauntlet--runs gauntlet--until he'd rather have the bullet! (free will argument in phil. dic. follows Locke, "will" can't be free any more than it can be green. Freedom is not an attribute of will, but of physical possiblity.)
Now Voltaire might buy the idea that this is best of all possible worlds anyway despite all the evil--but what really shoots down the best of all possible worlds argument is that nobody is happy. (Rich man, monk and girl).
Another reason for rejecting the "best of all possible worlds" argument is that it's so easy to imagine a world better than this one, e.g. El Dorado, a world of equality, simple religion, no overemphasis on wealth.
At every turn, Voltaire holds up the optimist position to ridicule. But what of Voltaire himself? Does he have a solution? Sort of. "Cultivate your own garden." Work hard, mind your own business. This the best we can do. As for understanding the problem of evil, Voltaire would recommend we remain content with the legal abreviation N.L. non liquet--it is not clear.
Many of you liked Candide, many probably didn't. Have to say, it's an ugly book. Voltaire insisting that the world is an ugly place, and a sad place. Perhaps the saddest thing of all is that the world is so unreasonable. If you are right, if you have reason on your side, and you speak the truth--you end up imprisoned or dead (cf. phil. dic. entry reason).
Perhaps the saddest passage of all in Voltaire's writing is a passage, not from Candide, but from his Philosophical dictionary. (p. 194 of Viking portable Voltaire) Voltaire describes an imaginary visit to the realm of the dead. What he sees there appalls him. Body on body piled up, all killed in the name of religion, some killed by pagans, other by Jews, other by Moslems. But the biggest pile of bodies, those created by those who call themselves Christians. Voltaire converses with some that are killed, including Socrates. Then he passes on to one to whom he gives no name, but he describes him. He calls him a young man of perhaps 35, but with horrible wounds in his hands and feet. His side had been pierced with a spear, and his body covered with the lashes of a whip. Voltaire asks who had done this to him. Answer: hypocritical priests and judges. Why? Had he taught some new religion? No, he had simply told people to love God with all heart and to love others as themselves." Was he responsible for all the bodies piled up, those killed in his name. Reply: no, rather appalled by the murders. Did he approve of the wealth and ostentatius buildings and clothing of those who claimed to speak for him. No: he and his true followers had been poor, claiming nothing of this worlds riches. Did he not encourage people to be intolerant, divinding themselves up into hostile religious camps? No: he had made no difference, even between Jews and Samaritans.
Voltaire then says, "Well if that is so, I will take you for my only master." Voltaire says that then, "The vision disappeared, and a clear conscience stayed with me."
Well, perhaps that last is not such a sad story after all.
Now if this were the best of all possible worlds, I'd end the lecture right here. But it's not people, and so I'm going to take a stab at explaining to you one more philosophe, German Immanuel Kant.
Immanual Kant hardly the kind of man you imagine changing world. Most of his life, on the brink of poverty. His life as boring and uneventful as can be. Never traveled very far from town he was born. Never married or even had a serious romantic relationship. Established a routine that never varied. Up in the morning. Breakfast. One pipe. Lectures. Lunch. Conversation. A walk. Study. Bed. Day after day, year after year. His books at first very little regarded. Understandably! Here's a typical passage.
"The idea of a moral world has, therefore, objective reality, not as refering to an object of inteelligivle intuition--for of such an object we can form no conception whatever--but to the world of sense--conceived, however, as an object of pure reason in its practical use--and to a corpus mysticum of rational beings in it, in so far as the liberum arbitrium of the individual is placed, under and by virtue of moral laws, in complete systematic unity both with itself, and with the freedom of all others."
One sentence. And some of you think my lectures are hard to understand! And some of you think, "Hey, I write like that, and my teachers give me bad grades." Well, so be it.
Why bother with Kant? Good example of boths philosophes faith in reason and their ideas on possible limits of reason.
Kant: critique of pure reason: challenges all earlier metaphysics. Arguments like Aristotle, Anselm, Descartes for existence of soul and existence of God. Pure reason, says Kant, can never give us true knowledge of the world. What we know, says Kant is not thing-in-itself, but phenomenon, our impressions of thing, impressions colored by our reason. Is there any bridge between thing in itself and our idea of thing? Yes! Tricky part of Kant's philosophy. Bridge, says Kant, is duty. Kant says that our reason is able to figure out certain moral laws, among them the categorical imperative. (explain). The categorical imperative tells us what ought to be. Kant assures us that what ought to be is a possibility. By doing what we ought to do, we make what ought to be into actuallity--an actuality that we participate in and therefore know.
Now all this is difficult--but I can condense it for you
easily
enough. Kant ultimately believes that reason can do quite a lot,
but only if coupled with morality. It can lead to knowledge
of the world and even to a better understanding of the God who created
the world. And ultimately, Kant assures us, reason can make us
happy.
How? By telling us what our duty is, and by assuring us
that
we are worthy of happiness once we have performed that duty.
Well,
you have done your duty for today. You have listened to my boring
lecture. And aren't you happy for it??