We have just seen Lange's thorough
criticism of Wolffian philosophy leading to the surprising conclusion
that Wolff was no better than a common atheist like Spinoza was
thought to be. By coincidence, Wolff had the very same year written a
treatise – De differentia nexus rerum sapientis, nec non
systematis harmoniae praestabilitae et hypothesium Spinosae luculenta
commentatio, in qua simul genuina Dei existantiam demonstrandi ratio
expenditur et multa religionis naturalis capita illustrantur
– where he explicitly tried to show how the Leibnizian tradition
differed from Spinozism.
As the title so
clearly says, Wolff tried to establish two points of difference: one
concerned the supposed necessity of the world, while the issue of
second was the interaction of souls and bodies. Of these two points,
the second is easier to decide. True, it appears that Wolff and
Spinoza have identical views of the topic: both deny any true
interaction of souls and bodies and maintain that the series of
bodily changes and the series of mental states should somehow reflect
one another. Yet, there is a crucial difference. Leibniz and Wolff
envisioned the body and the soul as two different substances, while
Spinoza thought them to be mere aspects of one human being. With
Spinoza then, as Wolff's student Bilfinger had already pointed out,
bodies and souls were necessarily intertwined. Wolff and Leibniz, on
the contrary, accept that the union of the two substances is
contingent and therefore separable. This is important especially as a
justification of the Christian notion of life after death – soul or
consciousness might exist also without any body to sustain it.
A more interesting
questions concern the difference between a fatalistic world of
Spinoza and a world created by a wise God. At first sight it appears
quite incomprehensible how one could even confuse the two. After all,
Spinoza's world is necessary and only that is possible what happens
within that world – there is then nothing truly contingent, because
all things follow necessarily from the very necessity of God and
therefore only a person with inadequate information could call things
contingent. Wolffian God, on the other hand, can think of true
alternative possibilities and chooses one of them as the world to be
created. Hence, even if the laws of Wolff's actual world are just as
unbreakable as in Spinoza's necessary world, these laws are still
contingent according to a more extensive perspective – God could
have chosen other laws.
But as we saw from Lange's criticism, the true
problem lies in Wolff's notion of God. Wolff emphasizes the
understanding of God, when he describes God as a wise and intelligent
creator. But understanding is a passive capacity – when God sees
that a certain possible world is the most optimal, he cannot decide
himself what to describe as the best possible world. Thus, because
God is also good and he must automatically choose to create the best
possible world, it appears that we could replace God with a very
powerful computer that would just have enough capacity for viewing
even the smallest details of all possible worlds.
Wolff's answer is
to suggest that his opponents fall into equally ridiculous
consequences and are even closer to outright Spinozism. Wolff's point
is that if his opponents wish to de-emphasize the omniscience of
God's understanding, they must at the same time emphasize the
omnipotence of his will, that is, they must hold that divine will has
a power to do things that the divine understanding has not decreed to
be good. Now creation becomes a blind act of will – God becomes
like an unstoppable and irrational manufacturing plant that just
spurts out things without any rhyme or reason. Sure, what is produced
is in a sense contingent, but because of the omnipotency of creator,
the world feels like it is governed by a rigid necessity – and this
time there's not even the justification that this is all for the
best.
The struggle
between Wolff and his supposed opponents circles then around the
question whether the freedom of God, and indeed, any conscious being,
falls more to his will or to his understanding. In a sense, it is
quite obvious that it is our capacity to choose that makes us free –
if we could just watch what happens, without having the ability to
affect anything, we would not be truly free. Yet, as Wolff among
other philosophers has pointed out, mere blind will without
understanding is equally not free – after all, we wouldn't call a
machine that works on randomly generated numbers a free person. It
appears then that both understanding and will are required for the
possibility of truly free decisions; I shall not pursue the question
how to unify the two faculties into a coherent whole.
So much for the
question of necessity. Next, we'll have a short detour on Chinese
philosophy.
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