loved nature) and a love for that of which one is a part (I embrace Nature). Insight into an initially harsh truth (I am only this) combines with the joyful experience of one's own activity and leads to tender feelings for oneself and love for that which makes everything possible, including these paradoxical experiences.
It would be doing Spinoza less than justice to confine his relevance to questions of ethics and the proper way to live. He is rightly being appreciated more and more as a political philosopher; and a political philosopher, moreover, who raises questions that nowadays it is increasingly difficult to avoid, such as the relationship between politics and religion, between politics and science. It is no accident that the subtitle of his Tractatus theologico-politicus describes the theme of the work as an investigation into the mutual relationship between peace (politics), piety (religion/ethics) and the search for truth (science and philosophy). This means that in his political thinking Spinoza also develops a theory of religion and science (including philosophy) as social realities that impact on politics. At the same time it is clear that the work also seeks an answer to the question of how (Western) politics should deal with its Judaeo-Christian heritage. Unquestionably an issue of great current importance.
I have already pointed out that Spinoza's philosophy is critical of the delusions of anthropocentric humanism; which of course, as Theo Zweerman has rightly observed, does not make him an anti-humanist. One might indeed argue that, one way or another, a basic assumption of true humanism should be that Man is not the measure of all things. Just as presentday thinking in general is strongly anthropocentric, so present-day political philosophy with its emphasis on human rights is strongly humanistic. But again one hears a dissenting voice from Spinoza. Just as religion and the churches do not stand above or outside the state, the same can be said of human rights. That is because no meaningful right exists that is not based on power. Rights, including ‘human rights’, can only exist where there is a sovereign power to impose them, even upon itself. Once again Spinoza warns against delusion: human rights are pious hopes, perhaps even dangerous lies, if there is no political power to uphold them. Again, this does not mean that Spinoza is a supporter of tyranny. He is only sceptical about international sovereignty and doubts whether it is really possible. And he also seems to be saying: beware of those, particularly those in power, who claim to speak on behalf of the fundamental rights of man.
My concluding thought may be somewhat farfetched. Some time ago I read an interesting article, which argued that Spinoza's metaphysics becomes much clearer if one regards him as a modern Avicenna. It is a convincing argument that suggests to me that research on Spinoza should investigate the Arabic roots of Spinoza's thought with the same thoroughness that it has traced his scholastic-Cartesian and Jewish roots. It looks as if in the new century, whether we like it or not, we in Europe will once again be confronted with the Muslim world-view and everything that that entails. There are many who look forward to seeing the development of a modern Islam that will openly and confidently confront modern science, hermeneutics and the like. It may be important that, in their own way, non-Muslims also participate in this development. It seems to me that Spinozism, with its specific intellectual legacy and its partly Arabic-Jewish background, is particularly well suited not only for coming to terms with our Judaeo-Christian heritage, but also for playing a fruitful role in the philosophical-ideological dialogue with Islam.
Herman de Dijn
Translated by Chris Emery
