Graduate Faculty Philosophy Journal

Volume 36, Number 2, 2015

Review of Omri Boehm’s Kant’s

Critique of Spinoza

Eric Schliesser

1. Introduction and Summary

Boehm has succeeded in writing a book that simultaneously and

successfully engages with a major episode in the history of philosophy
and contributes to our understanding of the metaphysical landscape.
Despite discussing two very challenging and terminologically tricky
philosophers—Spinoza and Kant—, Kant’s Critique of Spinoza is
clearly written and extremely illuminating. The book also has an
unusual urgency: throughout one senses that there is something at
stake as we wind our way through argument, objection, counter-argu-
ment, clarification, purported refutation, etc. Boehm signals such
urgency in the preface by framing the book as an attempted recovery of
the one and only possible response to nihilism. Boehm traces the term
“nihilism” back to Jacobi’s concern over the impact of Spinozist necessi-
tarianism.1 Boehm understands nihilism as the package of doctrines
that entail the following:
[V]alue is relativized to some anchor within the world . . . . [If] ex
hypothesi everything within the world is an accidental consequence
of blind causality, any anchor can only be as good as any other.
Talk of value thus becomes either consciously fictional (a noble lie,
perhaps) or meaningless. The point is this: if all value is arbitrarily
fixed in relation to some anchor, x, there is no reason not to fix
value to non-x. Talk of value then becomes, as Stanley Rosen
writes, “indistinguishable from silence.” From a Kantian point of
view, the significant point to notice is that this conclusion doesn’t
seem much affected if one substitutes x by “reason,” “rational
beings,” or something of the sort. (KCS xi)

It is worth lingering on the quoted passage before I detail the contents

of Boehm’s book. The passage gives a sense of Boehm’s stance: he is
writing in an analytical style “from a Kantian point of view.” Also, he

1
 GRADUATE FACULTY PHILOSOPHY JOURNAL

takes seriously the Straussian concern with the threat of nihilism and
noble lies (without himself deploying Straussian forms of writing). In
addition, Boehm embraces the “principle of sufficient reason” (PSR),
which denies brute facts and insists on a reason for everything. While it
is often thought that in the first Critique’s “Second Analogy of
Experience,” Kant restricts the scope of the PSR to the bounds of
human experience, in Boehm’s hands the PSR seems to have a wider
scope of application.2 To be sure, Boehm does not assume but rather
defends the PSR, even though he denies it foundational status (he
accords higher status to what he calls the Kantian maxim of the
“essence of the Enlightenment”: “to use one’s own understanding—
never to believe something I cannot myself understand” [KCS 182]).
Nevertheless, the quoted remarks already suggest that Boehm is not so
much asking his reader to return to Kant, but rather by getting
Spinoza and Kant right, to move beyond Kant.
There are two main interpretive claims put forward in Kant’s
Critique of Spinoza. First, Boehm contends that in his pre-critical
period, Kant is not just familiar with Spinoza, but that he is a Spinozist
(especially in his 1763 The One Possible Basis for a Demonstration of
the Existence of God, which is referred to in the literature and hereafter
in this paper as Beweisgrund).3 Second, Boehm argues that in Kant’s
critical period, Spinoza (and the threat of Spinozism more generally) is
not just a central concern of Kant—as a close analysis of the anti-
nomies reveals—, but that Kant is what Boehm calls “a regulative
Spinozist” (as opposed to an “ontological Spinozist”). In effect, Boehm’s
text is an extended philosophical interpretation of Kant’s remark in the
second Critique that unless transcendental idealism, which is under-
stood as regulative Spinozism, is adopted, “nothing remains but
Spinozism,”4 a remark that Boehm quotes five times (KCS vi, xxiii, 5,
46, 83). Boehm helps overturn a scholarly consensus that prior to the
outbreak of the Pantheismusstreit (the pantheism controversy) in 1785
(recall that the first edition of the first Critique appeared in 1781),
Kant was not very interested in Spinoza. Boehm’s position has superfi-
cial similarity to Jonathan Israel’s claims in his works on the so-called
“radical Enlightenment” (Israel is acknowledged at KCS xxiii), but
Boehm’s treatment of the philosophical issues is far more sure-footed
and sophisticated than Israel’s.5
Boehm’s first argument nicely converges with my own claims about
the pre-critical Kant (especially in the Natural History of the Heavens).6
Our entirely independent arguments offer mutual support. However, I
offer two qualifications about this convergence. First, if Boehm had
engaged more thoroughly with Ursula Goldenbaum’s work (particularly
on Mendelssohn and on historiography), he could have availed himself

2
 SCHLIESSER/REVIEW OF KANT’S CRITIQUE OF SPINOZA

of more evidence and thereby usefully complicated his story.7 Second,

Boehm has a tendency to treat the pre-critical Kant as having a stable
position, rather than one that is developing and is in debate with many
interlocutors.8 I leave it to pure Kant specialists to debate Boehm’s sec-
ond argument. However, I note that this argument allows us to put
Kant into the wider eighteenth-century context—a move that is still
surprisingly rare in Kant scholarship, which tends either to focus on
Kant’s German sources, or to follow a bit too closely the contours of the
dialectic between rationalism and empiricism, as offered by Kant and
subsequent scholars. So, it is to be hoped that Boehm will help to
encourage a historiographical revolution in Kant scholarship.
In what follows, I first offer a brief critical summary of the book, and
then I turn to evaluate some of its major themes. In addition to the
preface, the book has an introduction and five chapters. Chapter one
carefully reconstructs Kant’s ontological argument in the Beweisgrund
of the pre-critical period. Boehm shows that Kant’s position commits
him to substance monism, and that there is every reason to believe that
Kant knew this. Boehm is not the first analytical philosopher to
acknowledge that a philosopher can let a discerning reader understand
her position beyond what she explicitly states.9 Yet it is a shame that
Boehm did not engage with Mendelssohn’s extended positive review of
the Beweisgrund in the journal Briefe, die neueste Litteratur betreffend
in 1764.10 For one wonders if Boehm thinks Mendelssohn missed the
implication of Kant’s argument, or (as I think more likely) Mendelssohn
understood it fully and showed discretion. It is notable, as Boehm
notes, that Kant in turn defends something like Mendelssohn’s posi-
tion in the third Critique (KCS 203). Either way, the first chapter
secures for Boehm not just an interpretive point about the pre-critical
Kant (as a set-up to a better evaluation of the critical Kant); it also
reveals that the ontological argument, the PSR, and monism are sys-
tematically connected.
Chapters two and three form the heart of Boehm’s book. Boehm
shows that Spinoza’s position is responsible for one of the ways in
which the antinomies of reason are generated, and in addition, that
Spinoza has resources to circumvent their results. Chapter two focuses
on the first antinomy, and chapter three focuses on the third. According
to Boehm, the two antinomies are “systematically related” (KCS 110).
Along the way, Boehm also offers suggestions about how some of the
other antinomies may be connected to Spinozism. I return to Boehm’s
treatment of this material below; I argue that while Boehm is right to
foreground Spinoza’s role in the antinomies, he misses the ways in
which attention to Newton and eighteenth-century Newtonianism com-
plicates the story he wishes to tell.

3
 GRADUATE FACULTY PHILOSOPHY JOURNAL

Chapter four brings Spinoza and Kant into conversation. While

drawing on historical material, including Kant’s and Spinoza’s actual
views, it offers a rational reconstruction of both of their views on topics
like the ontological argument, the nature of complete infinity, the
nature of Spinoza’s causa sui, and the possibility of freedom. The chap-
ter shows, first, that a Spinozistic version of the ontological argument
can survive Kantian scrutiny; if the PSR is true, then necessitarianism
obtains. On behalf of the Kantian anti-necessitarian, Boehm constructs
a burden-shifting argument that allows the theoretical use of the PSR
on normative grounds: the way the world is is not the way it ought to
be. It is an especially interesting chapter, and one that will open up a
lot of avenues for further research and debate. Even so, below I express
some reservations about Boehm’s treatment of Spinozism.
The final chapter offers a rereading not just of Kant’s responses to
the Pantheismusstreit, but the significance of the Pantheismusstreit as
such:
The break of the Pantheismusstreit does not represent Spinoza’s
rediscovery. It represents the moment in which his radical thinking
moved from the clandestine underground to the center of the public
debate. It marked the moment in which Spinoza’s impact on
Enlightenment thinking became public. The Streit’s technical philo-
sophical question—Does the PSR lead to Spinozist metaphysics?—
was politically and publicly reinterpreted: Is there room for a gen-
uine moderate version of enlightened rationality?” (KCS 209)

While one wishes that Boehm had shown a bit more suspicion of the
very idea of a rupture, and had made explicit that the “public” here is a
Germanic one—as Boehm’s evidence shows that Spinoza’s impact was
abundantly clear to readers of Bayle, Toland, and Diderot—, his gen-
eral point is convincing to this reviewer.
As Boehm notes in the closing lines of the book, this general point
has a two-fold significance. First, it means that the “theoretical basis of
religion had to be destroyed in order to save religion from radical think-
ing. . . . In order to secure religion and morality, the threat imposed by
metaphysics cannot merely be argued against. It must be destroyed in
its root” (KCS 232). Second, it indicates that thereby the project of
thwarting nihilism can be undertaken. Thus, in the closing sentence
Boehm returns to the first sentence of his book.11 The project of thwart-
ing nihilism is not fully undertaken in the book, and there are hints
that Boehm is planning a sequel in which Kantian ethics will be offered
as a “genuine alternative” to nihilism (KCS xxvii). So, Boehm treats
the upshot of Kant’s arguments as showing that rational faith has been
saved (KCS 217), but that for the full articulation of this issue he will
“have to return in a different context” (KCS 226). This is fair enough.

4
 SCHLIESSER/REVIEW OF KANT’S CRITIQUE OF SPINOZA

The philosophical excitement of Boehm’s treatment of Kant as criti-

cally engaging Spinoza is to be found in the ways he sees the ontologi-
cal argument and the PSR as mutually illuminating each other, and
how they in turn illuminate debates over modality, substance monism,
infinity, etc. This is not just a matter of historical curiosity. Now that
species of dogmatic (so-called “knee-jerk”) metaphysics are back in fash-
ion,12 including robust defenses of monism13 and the PSR,14 the ques-
tions of nihilism and fatalism may well also return, at some point, as
significant ones.

2. Newtonian Reflections

In this section I offer three criticisms that are all loosely related to sev-
enteenth- and eighteenth-century Newtonianism and natural philoso-
phy. The significance of these remarks is primarily historical, but they
also entail that the conceptual landscape may be more complex than
Boehm allows.
First, I start with a low-level move. Boehm writes:
In Kant, naturalistic causality is understood as mechanical, or effi-
cient causality. We naturalistically understand an event if and only
if we see how it necessarily follows from another event that pre-
cedes it. Arguably, Spinoza favors a similar conception. A thing, A,
is said to be the cause of another, B, if B necessarily follows from A
(e.g., EIp16c1; Ip25; IIp5). Of course, a mechanistic conception is
the hallmark of seventeenth-century scientific naturalism, of which
Spinoza is supposed to be a champion. Now if one clings to this effi-
cient naturalistic conception, the notion of a “self-caused entity” is
identical to a notion of an entity that is “not caused at all.” For the
causal conception that’s assumed in the notion of a self-caused
entity is entirely different from—in fact, it excludes—the naturalis-
tic-efficient conception. (KCS 142–3)

I doubt Boehm gets Kant’s account of causation right in the first sen-
tence (given that he doesn’t even mention the role of laws). But even
assuming that he is correct about Kant’s notion of causation—he is only
expressing a Kantian prejudice.15 In Spinoza (and arguably in Locke),
the model form of causation is the way in which a (hidden) essence
produces regular or exceptionless (visible) effects, all things being
equal. (Hereafter I use the following notation to describe the model:
‘<essence > effect>’.) This is, in fact, also the natural reading of the
propositions from the Ethics that Boehm cites in this passage (EIp16c1,
EIp25, and EIIp5),16 although the latter proposition is not explicit
either way.17 In fact, Spinoza is not a fellow traveler of the mechanical
philosophy or even the scientific revolution.18 This is not to deny that
Spinoza also recognizes the mode-on-mode (billiard ball) model of effi-

5
 GRADUATE FACULTY PHILOSOPHY JOURNAL

cient causation (EIp28); rather, my point is that he takes it to be

derivative from the exemplary model (and also to have lower epistemic
status).
Boehm might concede the interpretive point, but might argue that
this is so much the worse for Spinoza because the <essence > effect>
model of causation is a remnant of a discarded Aristotelian science. But
that would be too hasty here. Spinoza does not rely on final causes (or
teleology).19 Moreover, Spinoza’s <essence > effect> model is, in part,
modeled on a formal cause explanation once common in geometry (as
he himself says in EIapp).20 And we can understand causa sui in such
terms.21
My second criticism, which gets me to a central issue in Boehm’s
book, focuses on the question, “in virtue of what is ‘causa sui’ conceived
as existing?” This matters for the larger debate between regulative
Spinozism (critical Kant) and ontological Spinozism (Spinoza), because
if there is a decent Spinozistic answer to that question, then Spinoza-
style transcendental realism is still a viable option.22 I quote a passage
from Boehm that allows us to explore the relevant issues:
[Michael] Della Rocca’s only valid case in point is the question “in
virtue of what is ‘causa sui’ conceived as existing?” and, to that
question, he can answer (if he can) by denying the validity of the
question: causa sui, he will say, “is conceived to exist because it is
what it is.” Only in the latter case may the PSR’s “in virtue-of-
what” question be a bad question, reducible to a genuine misunder-
standing.

But, in this light, it turns out that rationalism ultimately assumes

the validity of the traditional ontological argument. The question in
virtue of what substance is conceived to exist can be dismissed as a
mere misunderstanding of the concept only if existence is a
predicate, participating in substance’s essence. What needs to be
underlined is that at stake is not merely a rationalist argument
concerning the theological question of God’s existence. At stake is
the viability of the rationalist position itself: Without the ontologi-
cal argument, the edifice of conceivability and of the PSR falls
apart. (KCS 160)

Here I recount a Spinozistic alternative to Della Rocca’s purported

answer, inspired by Samuel Clarke, to the question “in virtue of what is
‘causa sui’ conceived as existing?,” which is entirely overlooked by
Boehm. For, from the vantage point of the (Spinozistic) PSR, the only
proper answer is “necessity.” Necessity both legitimately ends an
explanatory regress, and is a proper primitive ground that avoids open-
ing the door to idealism (as Della Rocca’s version of the PSR does), as

6
 SCHLIESSER/REVIEW OF KANT’S CRITIQUE OF SPINOZA

well as building a kind of harmony-between-mind-and-world-view (the

optimistic side of rationalism) into Spinozism from the start.
Once one shows that something is necessary, there is no need for a
further question in metaphysics (obviously, this kind of argumentative
strategy can be easily abused in human affairs as a species of ideology,
so one should be suspicious of instances of this strategy); according to
Clarke, necessity is the “formal cause” of God and the grounds of all
existence.23 As he explains in correspondence with Joseph Butler in
1713: “Necessity absolute, and antecedent in order of Nature to the
existence of any subject has nothing to limit it; but if it operates at all
(as it must needs do) it must operate (if I may so speak) everywhere
and at all times alike.”24
To put Clarke’s point another way, absolute necessity has the same
impact everywhere and at all times and should have the same conse-
quence everywhere and at all times. So, if such necessity operates in
some respect, Y, then we ought to expect Y to be homogeneous in rele-
vant ways. And if the most fundamental form of necessity operates in
all possible respects, then we ought to expect general homogeneity. But
here what matters is that such absolute necessity has “nothing to limit
it.” The operation of such necessity is thus the right kind of “cause” or
explanatory ground to help account for the existence of infinite entities
(substance, space, time), including the right sort of totum analyticum.
(This is why Boehm is right to argue that when one tries to be consis-
tent, the PSR, some versions of the ontological argument, and
necessitarianism all entail and support each other.) So, the “cause” of
substance,25 understood as natura naturans, is itself absolute necessity.
That is to say, absolute necessity entails absolute existence in Clarke’s
approach.
Obviously, Clarke’s view of modality is metaphysical, and without
further articulation and formalization, it remains obscure. Part of the
problem is that modern formal approaches to modality are developed in
ways that do little justice to the Spinozistic intuitions behind this
notion of necessity. But that is to be expected given that Spinozism is
willing to reject a lot of common sense views about modality. Another
problem with the Clarke-inspired answer is that “necessity” is perhaps
too coarse-grained an answer if one wishes to explain the details of par-
ticular existence. While that is undeniably true, it is worth reminding
ourselves that “metaphysical necessity” is only proffered here as the
answer to the question “in virtue of what is ‘causa sui’ conceived as
existing?”
I have not claimed that giving the answer “necessity” to the question
“in virtue of what is ‘causa sui’ conceived as existing?” refutes Boehm.
All I claim is that this approach is a genuine, potentially illuminating

7
 GRADUATE FACULTY PHILOSOPHY JOURNAL

alternative to Della Rocca’s approach that frames Boehm’s way of

exploring the debate between Kant and Spinoza. But I also submit that
this helps to explain why one species of the ontological version of the
PSR (“for every infinite entity that exists, there is a reason why it
exists”) may not involve a transcendental illusion after all.26 Again, this
does not settle the debate. Rather, my point is to reinforce Boehm’s
claim that the proper, ultimate locus of the debate between the
Kantian and the Spinozist is on the plane of modality (or necessity),
and especially how these are related to our moral and epistemic convic-
tions (see KCS 183).
My third criticism focuses on a central part of Boehm’s text (espe-
cially chapters two and three), which offers a rereading of Kant’s
antinomies in order to show that these address Spinoza and Spinozism.
The aim of this rereading is to help explain the critical Kant’s claim
that the two viable metaphysical options are either Kant’s transcen-
dental idealism, which in Boehm’s hands is itself regulative Spinozism,
or a form of transcendental realism, which can be best understood as a
species of metaphysical Spinozism. I am fully persuaded by Boehm that
Spinoza is indeed a central interlocutor in these antinomies.
Boehm notes correctly that Descartes and Leibniz—both of who dis-
tinguished between space as indeterminately large and as infinitely
large, in order to claim that space was indeterminately large (and thus
not infinite)—reserved “true infinity exclusively for God” (KCS 75). By
contrast, “Spinozism is committed to the world’s infinity” (KCS 79).
This suggests to Boehm (and I agree) that Kant is concerned with
Spinozism in the first antinomy’s antithesis. But does it follow that
Spinoza is the only such Spinozist known to Kant? I think not. Newton
too is such a Spinozist, not just in texts unknown to eighteenth-century
readers, but also in the “General Scholium” (and the Principia more
generally). This is not obvious if one identifies, as too many Kant schol-
ars still do, Clarke’s correspondence with Leibniz as the Newtonian
position. Even if there weren’t Newtonian texts known to Kant that
suggest otherwise, it would be a mistake to treat Clarke’s presentation
as echt-Newton, because the whole exchange between Leibniz and
Clarke is framed from the start by Leibniz’s insinuation at the start of
the exchange that Newton is a crypto-Spinozist (an explosive charge by
the time Leibniz makes it).27
Newton embraced the true infinity of space right at the start of the
Principia: “Now no other places are immovable but those that, from
infinity to infinity [ab infinito in infinitum], do all retain the same
given position one to another; and upon this account must ever remain
unmoved; and do thereby constitute immovable space.”28 This is a core
Newtonian commitment unchanged through all the editions. In the

8
 SCHLIESSER/REVIEW OF KANT’S CRITIQUE OF SPINOZA

“General Scholium,” added to the Principia’s second edition in 1713,

Newton explains the relationship between God and infinite space.29 I
quote two passages:
[God] endures always and is present everywhere, and by existing
always and everywhere he constitutes duration and space. Since
each and every particle of space is always, and each and every indi-
visible moment of duration is everywhere, certainly the maker and
lord of all things will not be never and nowhere.

[T]he supreme God necessarily exists, and by the same necessity he

is always and everywhere.30

According to the first passage, God and time (and space) co-exist eter-
nally—so there is no first creation of a moment of time. Newton denies
that God should be identified with space (and time): “He is not eternity
and infinity, but eternal and infinite; he is not duration and space, but
he endures and is present” (P 941). God is thus always and everywhere
immanent within the order of nature (understood as existing in space
and time). Newton does not shrink back from claiming that space and
time are truly infinite. Moreover, the existence of space is a (non-
causal) consequence of God’s existence (“by existing always and every-
where he constitutes duration and space”). In the “General Scholium,”
Newton does not explain the nature of this consequence.31
In the fourth letter to Bentley (which became public in the middle of
the eighteenth century), Newton allows “that there might be other sys-
tems of worlds before the present ones, and others before those, and so
on to all past eternity, and by consequence that gravity may be coeter-
nal to matter, and have the same effect from all eternity as at pre-
sent.”32 The pre-critical Kant also embraced the position that “infinite
space is brimming with solar systems [der unendliche Weltraum von
Weltgebäuden wimmele].”33 In context, Kant refers to Huygens (who is,
in part, responding to Newton) as his source.
According to the second passage above, the modal status of God’s
existence and God’s infinite spatiality is said to be identical. So if God
exists then infinite space (and time) exists. Newton does not explain his
views on necessity in the “General Scholium” (or elsewhere, I think),
but I pointed out above that the now-less-familiar works by Clarke do
explain necessity as the terminating point of inquiry under the guid-
ance of the PSR. Either way, Newton’s views on God, space, and time
are sometimes neo-Spinozist.34
Of course, Newton’s views are not identical to Spinoza’s because
Newton treats space and time relatively symmetrically, whereas in
Spinoza time is not an attribute of substance (whereas extension is). In
fact, it is worth noting that Kant, in a passage from the Critique of

9
 GRADUATE FACULTY PHILOSOPHY JOURNAL

Practical Reason frequently quoted by Boehm, treats Spinozism as the

view according to which “space and time are essential determinations
of the original being itself.”35 As such, this characterization is closer to
the historical Newton than to the historical Spinoza. (Boehm recog-
nizes, of course, that Kant treats space and time more symmetrically
than Spinoza does, but fails to note the Newtonian provenance of this.)
So, returning to Boehm, he is simply wrong when he identifies
Newton with the view “that the world is not infinite and has a begin-
ning” (KCS 80), and when he claims that there is “only one relevant
rationalist thinker who has a good reason to insist, as does the
Antithesis [of the first Antinomy], that the world is positively infinite,”
which is Spinoza (ibid.) (To avoid confusion, Boehm treats Newton as a
rationalist dogmatist, not an empiricist.)
Intriguingly, while Boehm has to explain why, given his identifica-
tion of the position in the Antithesis with Spinoza, Kant would
attribute the position to “a principle of pure empiricism” (see KCS 86),
my suggestion that it could just as well be Newton’s position to which
Kant here refers faces no such quandary. That is, everything that
Boehm here claims about what Kant might mean by “pure empiricism”
could also be attributed to Newton. Moreover, when Kant identifies the
empiricism of the Antithesis (one that goes too far) with Epicureanism36
(an identification that Boehm recognizes on KCS 105 n.28), this fits
with Kant’s pre-critical interpretation of Newton as a kind of
Epicurean, as I have argued elsewhere.37
So, what follows from this? Kant did distinguish between Newton
and Spinoza when it suited him. But in Kant’s hands, Spinozism mixes
elements from both Newton’s and Spinoza’s writings. (This is not to
deny that Spinoza is the more consistent Spinozist than Newton, of
course.) This observation does not undermine Boehm’s larger claims
about the philosophical dialectic, but it does undermine his interpreta-
tion of Kant.

3. Kant Versus Spinoza: Freedom, Affectivity, and Reason

In this final section here, I want to focus critically on Boehm’s charac-

terization of Spinoza and Spinozism. First, I explore his account of free-
dom in Spinoza. Then I call attention to his neglect of affectivity in
Spinoza. Finally, I argue that Boehm has misunderstood Spinoza’s
account of reason and its relationship to practical philosophy. Consider
the following passages:
[F]aith can be taken seriously as a condition of ethics. This, more
than any other reason, is why Kant’s thought should be studied as
an answer to Spinoza: no philosopher strived like Spinoza to reduce

10
 SCHLIESSER/REVIEW OF KANT’S CRITIQUE OF SPINOZA

practical reason and faith to theoretical reasoning; indeed, this is

why his geometrical metaphysics is called the Ethics, why
Substance is dubbed “God.” Kant attempts to put that Spinozist
picture on its head: neither practical reasoning nor faith are
reducible to theoretical reasoning; ultimately, in fact, he would
argue that theoretical reasoning is grounded in practical reason.
(KCS xxiii)

To understand Kant’s position as a genuine alternative to such

[Nietzschean] ethics—and to be able to consider this Kantian alter-
native as a genuine possibility for us—we must be willing to take
seriously the project of denying knowledge in making room for
faith. Historically speaking, this means that we must come to
terms with Kant’s answer to Spinoza and Spinozism. (KCS xxvii)

Jacobi’s claim that Spinoza’s philosophy is the only possible one

relies on his understanding of the PSR; first, as the normative cri-
terion of rationality; and second, as the “spirit of Spinozism.” Ex
nihilo nihil fit—Jacobi argues that this principle entails both neces-
sitarianism and pantheism. And, interestingly, he claims to have
learned this lesson from Kant’s Beweisgrund. As we saw in chapter
1, this isn’t, pace Frederick Beiser, merely a “tendentious” reading
of Kant, who himself was aware of his Spinozist commitment. . . .
Accordingly, he thinks it would be vain to try to give a rational
defense of freedom, morality, or faith, because such a defense is
beforehand committed to the PSR and would fall back on fatalistic
pantheism. (KCS 201)

In regulative Spinozism (that is, Kant’s critical position), the PSR is

a kind of epistemic imperative (“for every thing [p] that exists, we
demand a reason why p exists”), while the key maxim (which is also
the “essence of enlightenment”) is to “use one’s own understanding—
never to believe something I cannot myself understand” (KCS 182). By
contrast, metaphysical Spinozism embraces an ontological commitment
to the PSR: “for every thing [p] that exists, there is a reason why p
exists,” which itself—from the Kantian position—becomes caught up in
a transcendental illusion (KCS 172). (In addition, Boehm discusses
positions that try to finesse the choice between the epistemic and
metaphysical versions of the PSR, as well as those that accept the onto-
logical version but then add bells and whistles to avoid pure Spinozism,
which are both taken to be fundamentally unstable. I don’t discuss this
here, and I also ignore issues about the role of infinity in these discus-
sions.)
Having briefly set this up, let’s stipulate that Spinoza was a meta-
physical Spinozist, and that the PSR plays the roles assigned to it in
Boehm’s (Jacobi-inspired) hands. This entails, and Boehm is right
about this, that the ontological argument is both a central part of

11
 GRADUATE FACULTY PHILOSOPHY JOURNAL

Spinozism and is also defensible within it.38 But Spinoza’s philosophy

also gets distorted from within the Kantian framework in at least two
ways (the second is more subtle than the first). The two may be con-
nected, but I treat them separately. First, Spinoza’s conception of free-
dom, which we can capture in the slogan “acting from reason,” is never
really taken seriously by Boehm (here he follows the Jacobi-Lessing
reading of Spinoza [see KCS 201]). According to Spinoza, to be free is to
act from knowledge (or adequate ideas, or virtue, etc.). By this I do not
mean that complete Spinozistic freedom is almost out of reach for ordi-
nary mortals (who are always under the influence of passive affects)—a
point that may (in light of the view that “ought implies can”) be
thought to be a reductio of the Spinozist position. Rather, I mean that
Boehm treats Spinoza as a kind of compatibilist (KCS x). To be sure,
Spinoza is (probably) best understood as a compatibilist in the strict
sense. However, this does not really do justice to the Spinozist position
(that in various ways he inherits from Descartes and other strands of
Platonism), which is not in the business of defending the freedom of
the will, but rather is interested in another notion of freedom alto-
gether.
Boehm recognizes this, of course, and sets up the challenge to
Spinozism as follows:
An idea x is adequate in mind y iff God’s idea x is given in virtue of
having y. When this is the case, mind y is not compelled into think-
ing by any external forces: it thinks only ideas that are contained
within it and, in that sense, it is genuinely free. Let us grant that if
the human mind can satisfy this criterion, man is free when con-
ceiving an adequate idea. (KCS 135–6)

Oddly, Boehm recognizes that this challenge can be met from within
Spinoza’s system for common notions (KCS 138–9), but he insists (even
though he grants that Spinoza’s position of freedom is “coherent” [KCS
140]) that this is not sufficient because it is circular. He then turns the
issue into a question of the degree to which Spinoza can offer a plausi-
ble account for the acquisition of “an adequate idea of the uncondition-
ally existing substance” (KCS 139).
Now, the main reason I say that Boehm cannot take Spinoza’s
account of freedom seriously is that he does not scrutinize the merits of
this (neo-Stoic) freedom from, say, the vantage point of morality or a
politics worth having. That is, even if Spinoza’s view is considered not
very promising as a “solution” to the problem of free will, it seems
unfair not to evaluate it in light of the political and moral (not to men-
tion epistemic) projects in which it plays, and is intended to play, a
serious role.

12
 SCHLIESSER/REVIEW OF KANT’S CRITIQUE OF SPINOZA

Boehm also simply assumes—in line with Jacobi and Lessing—that

Spinoza’s position leads to (a bad kind of) fatalism, or even nihilism.39
(By contrast, Boehm does not let Spinoza criticize the Kantian and
extremely voluntarist conception of freedom, even though Spinoza has
resources to cast doubt on it.)40 We can say about Spinozism what
Adam Smith notes in the context of an otherwise very critical analysis
of Stoicism: that it had a “great influence upon the character and con-
duct of its followers, cannot be doubted . . . its general tendency was to
animate them to actions of the most heroic magnanimity and most
extensive benevolence.”41 That is to say, for true Spinozists, fatalism (or
nihilism) does not follow necessarily from its doctrine of freedom, or its
doctrine of necessity; in the right institutional and educational context
it can also inspire great deeds.
As an aside, Boehm cannot object to such a consequentialist justifi-
cation of a philosophical doctrine because in fact Kant too appeals to
the analysis of a doctrine’s effects in terms of the worthiness of freedom
(of thought) in his essay “Was Heißt: sich im Denken orientieren?”
(“What Does it Mean to Orient Oneself in Thinking?”).42 This notion of
worthiness is understood both in terms of a doctrine’s likely impacts on
a wider public by way of what we might call “intellectual trickle down,”
and its impact on other intellectual currents of thought (see esp. KCS
221–2). So, the Spinozistic doctrine of freedom need not be justified in
terms of extra Spinozistic metaphysical principles if there is such a con-
sequentialist justification. (This is, of course, not the only way to defend
acting from reason, but it is one way that Kant is not allowed to block
as such.)
Second, Boehm understands Spinozism in terms of hyper-rational-
ism. Although such an understanding is not wrong, it is worth noting
that even in a Jacobi-inspired hyper-rationalistic Spinozism—in which
the metaphysical version of the PSR does a lot of the intra-systemic
work, and in which there is some ultimate ground (be it necessity, the
ontological argument, causa sui, etc.)—a key feature of Spinoza’s sys-
tem (as Noa Shein taught me) is overlooked: the role of feeling.43
Feeling is introduced in two axioms (numbers four and five) at the start
of the second part of the Ethics. (It is clear from the preface to part five
of the Ethics that whatever Spinoza means by “feeling,” it is not the
Cartesian version.) The most prominent use of “feeling” in the Ethics is
in the treatment of the mind’s eternality (EVp23s).
The significance of feeling is this: rather than his anthropology con-
ceiving of the best of us as cold, mechanical automata, under the guid-
ance of the PSR, Spinoza insists that philosophy axiomatically requires
feelings, and he relies on feeling for his most controversial doctrine. In
particular, Spinozistic demonstrations must be felt: “The mind feels

13
 GRADUATE FACULTY PHILOSOPHY JOURNAL

those things that it conceives in understanding . . . for the eyes of the

mind by which it sees and observes things, are the demonstrations
themselves” (EVp23s).
Now, from the vantage point of Jacobi (and Boehm’s Kant), this may
be thought of as an inconsistency in Spinoza (who is then a not quite
pure metaphysical Spinozist). This is because in Jacobi, feeling is
paradigmatically something incommunicable, which lacks rational sup-
port (KCS 202). Unsurprisingly, Spinoza’s use of the eternity of the
mind is a quasi-mystical experiential doctrine that gets the name
“intellectual love of God.” This experience is probably not that of Kant’s
sublime, which justifies his notion of an infinite unconditioned (KCS
99), but it belongs, shall we say, to the same species of experience. So, if
Kantians can appeal to the feeling of the sublime, Spinozists can
appeal to the felt intellectual love of God.
Let me now turn finally to Boehm’s account of Spinoza on reason. I
quote one of the most important passages in the book:
We believe that things could have been different because we
demand that they ought to have been different. We ask why some-
thing happened despite the fact that it ought not to have happened.
Our insistence that necessitarianism is false is thus grounded in a
moral conviction, which is also a positive cause for demanding an
explanation of the world—using the PSR. In the most authentic
manifestations of the PSR, we do not ask “why” but we cry in moral
outrage—outrage against an earthquake taking thousands of inno-
cent lives, the premature death of a loved one, or the course of his-
tory, teaching us about the political evils generated by human soci-
ety. We ask why the world is as it is because we demand justice
from God or nature; we strive to theoretically understand the world
with a commitment to changing it, bringing it to justice.

Of course, a rationalist like Spinoza believes that everything is just

the way it is. Moral outrage against God or world is anthropomor-
phic.

Now the metaphysical proposition that everything is just the way

that it is, as well as the success of rationalistic prescriptions for
remedying anthropomorphic moral rebellion, depend on the PSR
having shown that we know that things are necessary. This is an
assumption that hasn’t been justified. In the final analysis, then, if
deciding whether our moral outrage against the world is unfounded
and illusory—or whether illusory is the thought that everything is
known to be explicable—there is good reason to think it is the lat-
ter. In this point lies the deepest difference between Kant’s position
and Spinoza’s, the reason that their philosophies need to be con-
fronted. No philosopher strived like Spinoza to ground practical
rationality in theoretical rationality: This is why a book that is so
heavily metaphysical—a book that in fact collapses practical rea-

14
 SCHLIESSER/REVIEW OF KANT’S CRITIQUE OF SPINOZA

soning into theoretical-geometrical speculation—is called the

Ethics. The Kantian project aspires to turn that philosophical
enterprise on its head: It is not only that theoretical reasoning can-
not override the practical; in fact, it is grounded in it. (KCS 183–5)

These passages are Boehm’s attempt to decisively shift the burden (on
Kant’s behalf) in the Kant versus Spinoza debate (which, recall, is
really a debate between transcendental idealism and transcendental
realism, or between regulative Spinozism and metaphysical
Spinozism). For, while Boehm is right to suggest that Spinoza does not
have the resources to convince somebody who ultimately denies
Spinozistic premises that the ontological version of the PSR is true
(viz., “for every thing [p] that exists, there is a reason why p exists”), he
has admirably shown that the Kantian also runs out of resources to
decisively refute the Spinozist. Spinoza’s ontological argument, the
causa sui, and the (ontological) version of the PSR, are an intercon-
nected package of commitments. In showing us this, Boehm has helped
us to discern what the true philosophical landscape is from a Kantian
perspective (even if Boehm often ignores further complications that are
immanent in this landscape due to the more familiar contributions and
challenges of Leibniz and Hume, and the not yet fully assimilated
moves by Newton).
There is, however, a mistake in Boehm’s account of Spinoza’s concep-
tion of reason, which is not (in Kantian terms) purely theoretical. In the
Ethics, at EIVp35, Spinoza ends up (by appealing to EIIIp3 and EIIId2)
equating adequate ideas and his conception of agency, on the one hand,
with living under the guidance of reason, on the other. Living under the
guidance of reason, in turn, is understood as acting from virtue
(EIVp24); reason is thus the foundation of morality (EIVp18s). That is
to say, in Kantian terms, Spinoza treats practical and theoretical rea-
son as roughly identical. (It is misleading to construe this as a “col-
lapse” of one into another because there is no evidence that Spinoza
privileges theoretical reason.) This is not a glitch in Spinoza’s system; it
is crucial to his account of the origin and nature of justice (that is, polit-
ical order) in his political philosophy, both as presented in the Ethics
(see EIVp35s2) and in the Theological-Political Treatise (see TTP chap.
16).
In the empiricist tradition, reason is a kind of content-neutral fac-
ulty or set of operations. As Don Rutherford has shown, Spinoza antici-
pates this in some sense because his notion of “acting from reason” also
means picking out the causal power of reason on behavior (or the set of
ideas that follow from it).44 But, as Rutherford acknowledges, for
Spinoza “reason” can have substantial content such that everyone who
has it or is guided by it (or its maxims) will agree about the good (again

15
 GRADUATE FACULTY PHILOSOPHY JOURNAL

see EIVp18s1); that is, reason sets ends.45 (This is why Spinoza can
appeal to reason in his political writings.) Spinoza does not say enough
to justify this latter claim as available within the (temporal) political
order, although, as I have noted, our true, or authentic self is the self
that acts from reason (even if it’s a self that lacks a lot of individual-
ity).46 But if there is a criticism to be made of Spinoza in this regard, it
is not one that helps the Kantian who is ultimately saddled with a sim-
ilar problem to solve about the content of reason—it is no surprise that
ultimately, Kantian practical reason becomes a kind of coherence
requirement (one that the Spinozist can accept happily).
So, a Spinozist (who knows something about striving, after all) need
not disagree with Boehm’s Kantian claim that “we strive to theoreti-
cally understand the world with a commitment to changing it” (KCS
183). In Spinozism, this commitment to change the world comes for free
without anthropomorphism. This is because, according to Spinoza, to
act from reason is not a call to quietism (or fatalism, etc.), but is rather
a call to be moved to aid one’s (political) neighbor (EIIp49s). (Of course,
it does not follow that Spinoza has no space for pure theoretical con-
templation of the sort that Kant seems to rule out.) It is notable that
Boehm’s interpretation of Spinoza rests here on the form of the Ethics,
not its textual content.47 So, while there may be moral problems with
Spinozism, Spinoza teaches us that we cannot demand justice from God
or nature, but that in society it’s up to us to strive to “do freely the
things which are best” (ibid.).

NOTES

1. Omri Boehm, Kant’s Critique of Spinoza (Oxford: Oxford University Press,

2014), p. ix; henceforth KCS, followed by page number.
2. To avoid confusion, Boehm does restrict (from the vantage point of pure
rationalism) what one might call the grounding and priority of the PSR by
claiming that it depends on our moral commitment that things could have
been otherwise.
3. Immanuel Kant, The One Possible Basis for a Demonstration of the
Existence of God, trans. Gordon Treash (Lincoln, NE: University of
Nebraska Press, 1994); Der einzig mögliche Beweisgrund zu einer
Demonstration des Daseyns Gottes, ed. Paul Menzer, in Vorfritische
Schriften II (1757–1777), ed. Paul Gedan, Kurd Lasswitz et al., vol. 2 of
Werke, ed. Wilhelm Dilthey, vols. 1–9 of Gesammelte Schriften, ed.
Prussian Academy of the Sciences (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1912).

16
 SCHLIESSER/REVIEW OF KANT’S CRITIQUE OF SPINOZA

4. Immanuel Kant, Critique of Practical Reason, trans. Thomas Kingsmill

Abbott (Mineola, NY: Dover, 2004), p. 108.
5. See my “Jonathan Israel, Democratic Enlightenment: Philosophy,
Revolution, and Human Rights, 1750–1790,” review of Democratic
Enlightenment: Philosophy, Revolution, and Human Rights, 1750–1790,
by Jonathan Israel, Œconomia: History, Methodology, Philosophy 4:4
(2014), pp. 651–7.
6. See my article, “On reading Newton as an Epicurean: Kant, Spinozism
and the changes to the Principia,” Studies in History and Philosophy of
Science 44:3 (2013), pp. 416–28.
7. See especially the following papers by Ursula Goldenbaum: “Why
Shouldn’t Leibniz Have Studied Spinoza?” The Leibniz Review 17:1 (2007),
pp. 107–38; “Mendelssohn’s Spinozistic Alternative to Baumgarten’s
Pietist Project of Aesthetics,” in Moses Mendelssohn’s Metaphysics and
Aesthetics, ed. Reinier Munk, vol. 13 of Studies in German Idealism
(Dordrecht: Springer, 2011), pp. 299–327; and “Understanding the
Argument through Then-Current Public Debates or My Detective Method
of History of Philosophy,” chap. 4 of Philosophy and Its History: Aims and
Methods in the Study of Early Modern Philosophy, ed. Mogens Laerke,
Justin E. H. Smith, and Eric Schliesser (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2013).
8. See, for example, Michela Massimi, “Kant’s Dynamical Theory of Matter
in 1755, and its Debt to Speculative Newtonian Experimentalism,”
Studies in History and Philosophy of Science 42:4 (2011), pp. 525–43.
9. See, for example, Paul Russell, The Riddle of Hume’s Treatise: Skepticism,
Naturalism, and Irreligion (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008); and
Catherine Wilson, Epicureanism at the Origins of Modernity (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2008).
10. On this point see Martin Schonfeld, The Philosophy of the Young Kant:
The Precritical Project (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), pp. 215ff.
The review of the Beweisgrund, which I am attributing to Mendelssohn
was published as, “Zwei hundert und achtzigster Brief: Prüfung der
Schrift des Hrn. M. Kants von dem einzig möglichen Beweißgrund zu
einer Demonstration des Daseyns Gotte; Vergleichung der Definition des
Daseyns des Verfassers mit der Baumgartenschen; Von der Erkenntnis
der innern Möglichkeit der Dinge; sowohl in Absicht auf Gott, als die
Menschen; Folgerungen aus dieser Möglichkeit auf das schlechterdings
nothwendige Daseyn eines Wesens, insbesondere Gottes,” Briefe, die
Neueste Litteratur betreffend 18:1 (1764), pp. 69–86. The editors of the
Graduate Faculty Philosophy Journal called my attention to the fact that
the online edition of the Briefe identifies Friedrich Gabriel Resewitz as
the author of this review, rather than Mendelssohn. For a judicious treat-
ment of the attribution issue, see Anne Pollok, Facetten des Menschen:
Zur Anthropologie Moses Mendelssohns (Hamburg: Felix Meiner Verlag,
2009), p. 223. Pollok ultimately concludes that there is not enough evi-
dence to decisively attribute the review to either Mendelssohn or
Resewitz. I thank Stefan Heßbrüggen for discussion of this issue.

17
 GRADUATE FACULTY PHILOSOPHY JOURNAL

11. I thank Boris Demarest for this point.

12. See, for example, Ted Sider, Writing the Book of the World (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2011).
13. For example, Jonathan Schaffer, “Monism: The Priority of the Whole,”
Philosophical Review 119:1 (2010), pp. 31–76.
14. Michael Della Rocca, “PSR,” Philosophers’ Imprint 10:7 (2010), pp. 1–13.
15. It is odd that after claiming that “the human intellect genuinely grasps
how one thing can cause another” (KCS 143), there is no mention of Locke
and Hume, both of who undermine the intelligibility and appeal of pre-
cisely this mechanical conception.
16. All references are to Benedict de Spinoza, Ethics, trans. and ed. Edwin
Curley (London: Penguin, 1996); hereafter E, followed by large roman
numeral for part number, “p” for proposition number, “c” for corollary, “s”
for scholium, and “app” for appendix.
17. The three propositions that Boehm cites all talk of God as “efficient
cause,” but he fails to explore how God’s efficiency works. He tacitly
assumes that God is part of, or initiates, the chain of causes like a cosmic
billiard ball player. But this is Descartes’ position; it is not Spinoza’s.
18. See my “Spinoza and the Philosophy of Science: Mathematics,
Motion, and Being,” Oxford Handbooks Online, http://www.oxfordhand-
books.com/view/10.1093/oxfordhb/9780195335828.001.0001/oxfordhb-
9780195335828-e-020 (accessed November 2, 2015).
19. We can ignore here other debates about the role of teleology in Spinoza’s
system.
20. See Paolo Mancosu, Philosophy of Mathematics and Mathematical
Practice in the Seventeenth Century (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
1999).
21. See the seminal article by Karolina Hübner, “On the Significance of
Formal Causes in Spinoza’s Metaphysics,” Archiv für Geschichte der
Philosophie 97:2 (2015), pp. 196–223. There is also an historical irony in
that Boehm’s Kantian rejection of causa sui echoes the Scholastic rejection
of causa sui as they encountered it in Descartes (and Spinoza).
22. My unargued assumption here is that because Boehm accepts Della
Rocca’s conceivability-focused interpretation of the PSR, Boehm misses
alternative ways to explore the issue.
23. See Samuel Clarke, “The Answer to a Sixth Letter,” in Sermons on
Several Subjects: Eighteen Sermons on Several Occasions; Sixteen
Sermons on the Being and Attributes of God, the Obligations of Natural
Religion, and the Truth and Certainty of the Christian Revelation, vol. 2 of
The Works of Samuel Clarke, ed. Benjamin Hoadly (London: John and
Paul Knapton, 1738), pp. 751–4.

18
 SCHLIESSER/REVIEW OF KANT’S CRITIQUE OF SPINOZA

24. Samuel Clarke, “Answer to Butler’s Third Letter,” in A Demonstration of

the Being and Attributes of God and Other Writings, ed. Ezio Vailati
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), p. 105.
25. I use scare quotes around “cause” here because this notion of cause is not
really different from substance (hence causa sui).
26. I am here inspired by Daniel Schneider’s still unpublished work on the
ontological argument.
27. Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz to Samuel Clarke, December 1715, in Gottfried
Wilhelm Leibniz and Samuel Clarke, Correspondence, ed. Roger Ariew
(Indianapolis: Hackett, 2000), p. 9.
28. Isaac Newton, Newton’s Principia: The Mathematical Principles of
Natural Philosophy, trans. Andrew Motte, ed. Nathanial W. Chittenden
(New York: Daniel Adee, 1846), p. 80; Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia
Mathematica (London: S. Pepys, 1686), p. 9.
29. I am relying here on my treatment in “Newton’s Philosophy of Time,” in A
Companion to the Philosophy of Time, ed. Heather Dyke and Adrian
Bardon (Oxford: Wiley, 2013), pp. 87–101.
30. Isaac Newton, The Principia: Mathematical Principles of Natural
Philosophy, trans. Bernard Cohen and Anne Whitman (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1999), pp. 941–2; henceforth P, followed by
page number.
31. There is also rich scholarly literature on Newton’s manuscript De
Gravitatione (unknown to Kant), where Newton both recognizes the infi-
nite/indefinite distinction that he associates with Descartes’ fears about
being accused of atheism, and offers an emanative account of the relation-
ship between God and space. For my treatment and survey of the litera-
ture, see my “Newtonian Emanation, Spinozism, Measurement and the
Baconian Origins of the Laws of Nature,” Foundations of Science 18:3
(2013), pp. 449–66.
32. Isaac Newton to Richard Bentley, 25 February 1693, in Isaac Newton,
Philosophical Writings, ed. Andrew Janiak (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2004), p. 102.
33. Immanuel Kant, Universal Natural History and Theory of the Heavens, or
Essay on the Constitution and the Mechanical Origin of the Entire
Universe, according to Newtonian Principles (1755), trans. Olaf Reinhardt,
in Kant: Natural Science, ed. Eric Watkins (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2012), p. 215; Allgemeine Naturgeschichte und Theorie
des Himmels, ed. Johannes Rahts, in Vorkritische Schriften I (1747–1756),
ed. Johannes Rahts and Kurd Lasswitz, vol. 1 of Werke, ed. Wilhelm
Dilthey, vols. 1–9 of Gesammelte Schriften, ed. Prussian Academy of the
Sciences (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1910), p. 247.
34. See also my paper, “Newton’s Substance Monism, Distant Action, and the
Nature of Newton’s Empiricism: Discussion of H. Kochiras ‘Gravity and
Newton’s Substance Counting Problem,’” Studies in History and
Philosophy of Science 42:1 (2011), pp. 160–6.

19
 GRADUATE FACULTY PHILOSOPHY JOURNAL

35. Immanuel Kant, Critique of Practical Reason, trans. and ed. Mary Gregor
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), p. 85.
36. Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, trans. Norman Kemp Smith
(New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1965), p. 427; A471/B499.
37. See my paper, “On Reading Newton as an Epicurean.”
38. My former colleague Dan Schneider had already taught me a version of
this, and I hope his version appears in print before long.
39. There is a minor oddity in Boehm’s book. In the preface, he recognizes
that he shares with Leo Strauss an interest in nihilism’s origins; Boehm
and Strauss also happen to agree (although Boehm is not explicit about
this agreement) that the fact/value distinction (as understood post-Weber
or Moore) is a problematic feature of the contemporary intellectual
landscape (such that the problem of worldly meaning/teleology must
appear unresolvable). Unusually among analytical philosophers, Boehm
also speaks admiringly of Strauss’ work on Mendelssohn and the
Pantheismusstreit, but Boehm seems to think that his own defense of
(Kantian) rational faith is somehow extremely far removed from Strauss’
position. This is odd because it is the recognition by Strauss that Athens
and the Enlightenment are ultimately grounded in a form of faith (one
that takes itself to be uniquely rational) that makes Strauss think that
the debate between Jerusalem and Athens can and must be re-opened.
This is, of course, not Boehm’s opinion, but he seems to miss that if his
regulative Spinozism can defeat metaphysical Spinozism, the path to
Strauss’ position is also available.
40. We may say of Kant, to paraphrase an expression of Spinoza’s, that he
makes man “an empire within an empire” (EIII preface).
41. Adam Smith, The Theory of Moral Sentiments, vol. 1 of Glasgow Edition of
the Works and Correspondence of Adam Smith, ed. Ronald L. Meek, David
D. Raphael, and Peter Stein (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1976), p. 293. To
be clear, Smith is aware that the Stoics embrace providence. But his dis-
cussion has hints of Spinozism: “The necessary connection which Nature
has established between causes and their effects” (ibid.).
42. See Immanuel Kant, “What does it Mean to Orient Oneself in Thinking?”
trans. Allen Wood, in Religion and Rational Theology, trans. and ed. Allen
Wood and George di Giovanni (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1996), pp. 7–18; “Was Heißt: sich im Denken orientieren?” ed. Heinrich
Maier, in Abhandlungen nach 1781, ed. Heinrich Maier, Max Frischeisen-
Kohler, and Paul Menzer, vol. 8 of Werke, ed. Wilhelm Dilthey, vols. 1–9 of
Gesammelte Schriften, ed. Prussian Academy of the Sciences (Berlin: De
Gruyter, 1923), pp. 133–47.
43. Outside of analytical philosophy, a Deleuze-inspired affective Spinozism
can be traced to Gilles Deleuze, Spinoza: Practical Philosophy, trans.
Robert Hurley (San Francisco: City Lights Books, 1988).
44. See Donald Rutherford, “Spinoza and the Dictates of Reason,” Inquiry: An
Interdisciplinary Journal of Philosophy 51:5 (2008), pp. 485–511.

20
 SCHLIESSER/REVIEW OF KANT’S CRITIQUE OF SPINOZA

45. Ibid., pp. 505ff.

46. See my article, “Angels and Philosophers: With a New Interpretation of
Spinoza’s Common Notions,” Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 111:3
(2011), pp. 497–518. Again, see Rutherford’s article for an excellent, and
somewhat more optimistic discussion.
47. I have argued elsewhere that the form of the Ethics signals neither an
embrace of mathematical physics nor that Spinoza rests his case on pure
theoretical reason. See my paper, “Spinoza and the Philosophy of Science.”

21