Schelling on Nature, Humanity, and God (re-reading Iain Hamilton Grant)

Last year, some colleagues and I at CIIS participated in a panel discussion on Speculative Realism called “Here Comes Everything.” My lecture drew primarily upon Grant’s text Philosophies of Nature After Schelling (2006). This summer, I’ve been doing research for a comprehensive exam on the recent resurgence of Schellingian philosophy (HERE is my reading list). I saved Grant’s book until last, since I think it provides the strongest case for Schelling’s contemporary relevance by foregrounding the extent to which his long life of philosophical creativity remained, from beginning to end, focused on the problem of nature.

What is the problem of nature? Grant locates this problematic in the Kantian revolution, when the transcendental gap between freedom and nature reduced nature to mere appearance, a phenomenal ghost lying in wait for the practical projects of human industrialism. “The whole of modern European philosophy has this common deficiency,” wrote Schelling in 1809, “that nature does not exist for it.” Grant suggests that, in adopting Aristotle’s “physics of all things,” rather than Plato’s “physics of the All,” Kant made it impossible to ground his transcendentalism in anything but the anthropocentric ethical projects of practical reason (p. 7). From Schelling’s perspective, this is hardly a ground at all, since the transcendental subject cannot account for the genesis of its own subjectivity. Kant isn’t blind to this problem, but is forced to posit a logical concept of ground as the supersensible substrate underlying both nature and freedom. Schelling is not satisfied with a merely logical ground, so he retreats from Kant’s Aristotelian approach to physics (what Grant calls somaticism) to pursue Plato’s physics of the All. Instead of conceiving of ground as an underlying substrate or substance, Schelling, following Plato, grounds subjectivity in the dynamic activity of matter itself. Schelling here inaugurates a form of process ontology that will later be picked up by Whitehead, though the latter seems unaware of the former’s contributions to his own project. Whitehead bypassed any explicit acknowledgement of Schelling’s naturphilosophie, going back to Plato himself to find in the Timaeus the same possibility for a physics of becoming that Schelling did.

“Nature is subject,” says Schelling, which is not to say that nature necessarily conforms to the transcendental structure of the human mind (a form of anthropomorphism), but rather that the human mind is a recapitulation of the uncanny subjectivity of nature. Where Kant says we can’t know nature in itself, Schelling turns us back upon the strangeness of our own humanity to ask “do we really know what we are?”

In his celebrated 1809 text, Philosophical Investigations into the Essence of Human Freedom, Schelling delves into traditional theological, cosmological, and anthropological problems only to re-emerge, not with new answers, but with surprising new questions. Schelling discovers that human reason is itself a recapitulation of the sublime tension of cosmogenesis itself: the eternal struggle between darkness and light. Our human freedom to choose good or evil, according to Schelling, irrevocably separates us from the animal kingdom. Evil isn’t an obedience to brute instincts that might draw us back into animality; no, evil is unmistakably spiritual in origin. Schelling draws approvingly upon the work of his theosophical calibrator Fr. Baader: “…it would be desirable that the corruption in man were only to go so far as his becoming animal; unfortunately, however, man can stand only below or above animals” (40/373).

This spiritual freedom of humanity should not be confused with a “capacity” for freedom, as this characterization would entirely miss the literally decisive importance of freedom. Freedom is not a capacity, since this implies some more original subjectivity which would employ freedom as a means. Freedom is the very ground of subjectivity, the abyss from which subjectivity first emerges. I am the freedom to choose good or evil, and nothing besides. There is no me behind or before the spiritual crisis of freedom. My personality just is the decision between good and evil, a decision made eternally time and time again. This is not some special human difference, some special capacity, as though our essence was just to be some other kind or species of natural being. Our uniqueness as humans is that we recapitulate the very being of nature itself self-consciously, while other organisms remain submerged in the unity of natural becoming. Like the divine, humanity is eternally beginning, always deciding anew to erotically reproduce ourselves in relation to some irreducible otherness within ourselves (i.e., evil). But unlike the divine, there is no necessary assurance that love will overcome evil, that the otherness will be dynamically engaged in the sacred marriage of eternal circulation. Hence the fall into history, the rise of the state, and the suffering and confusion of earthly human life wherein evil is constantly externalized and projected. Evil appears real precisely when a human being denies the evil in themselves to wage war against it in others. Schelling saw no hope in national politics, since the state is merely an evil made necessary by the fall. True human salvation lies elsewhere, in a democracy of spirits who freely chose the Good out of love, not due to fear of secular or religious punishment.


11 Comments Add yours

  1. John Bryant says:

    “Evil appears real precisely when a human being denies the evil in themselves to wage war against it in others.”

    Will you clarify and perhaps elaborate on this?

    You seem to be implying that attacking has no good purpose. I think this is contradicted in most of the sacred texts, and I’m wondering if I’m reading your meaning properly.


    1. The Gita depicts the higher and lower forms of ethicality through Arjuna’s dilemma. As a finite human, Arjuna tries to avoid the evil of going to war against his own family. Such wars are a consequence of our fallen state. By refusing to fight, he is expressing the lower form of ethicality, the closest to goodness we can get without the redemptive vision of the whole granted by the divine. When Arjuna experiences Krishna-consciousness, he then realizes that the higher Good knows no opposite. He does his duty as a warrior without attachment to the results as judged in human terms.

      1. Jason Hills says:

        Matt, great article.

        Also, your response is fantastic, and I might borrow you wording when I teach the Gita next time.

      2. John Bryant says:

        So I assume by quoting the Gita you are saying that you agree with it. But even in this quote, with which I also agree, my question still stands.

        Perhaps you meant to say “against that same evil in others”?

        And you seem to be saying that it is evil for a person who has evil in them to fight evil in others. We are all flawed and could be drawn to evil in some respect. So…?

      3. I don’t think of the Gita as an argument I might agree or disagree with. I do find it instructive on many levels, though.

        I think that re-wording might clarify my position more. Evil results from the self-centeredness of only seeing evil in others while ignoring it in oneself.

      4. John Bryant says:

        If you didn’t “agree or disagree” with it then why did you quote it as a response?

        I agree that denial of truth is a source of much evil in this world, and you don’t have to be attacking someone else for it to manifest.

      5. John Bryant says:

        Since you didn’t respond, I’ll add these observations which might clarify my inquiry.

        Arjuna’s struggle is more than about knowing when there is a moral or divine mandate to fight. It’s about understanding how those choices manifest as victory. Although he was most hesitant to fight, Arjuna is the only undefeated hero in the Mahabharata.

        There is a common saying that “Truth is the first casualty of war.” I find this to as foolish as it is common. I say “Truth is the first casualty in a war fought to lose.” Precisely because of the truth in the the Mahabharata. I haven’t read the whole Mahabharata, but I know this story and understand its wisdom.

        Knowing truth this is essential to avoiding fighting immoral wars on the losing side. Sometimes this does mean you must fight former friends and family you would rather not fight. But fight for the right reasons and victory with a clear conscience and good karma is assured.

        Blessings, Matt.

      6. mary says:

        John, I found this very helpful:

        ….in subtle worlds, the conflicts are spiritualized, such that forces pass through the paradoxical; “attack” dissolves; there is no “attack” ; Love is its own Good, never seeking to defeat or conquer. It is Moksha, freedom from the oppression of the Self by the surface of the question ‘ when do we fight evil’, by the revelation of how such a question can arise….these questions are from the fallen nature…they arise when one forgets the Divine. Many ethical dilemmas emerge from the illusion of the unfreedom of the Soul, and dissolve upon living the event of remembering.

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