Spinoza's Theological-Political Treatise (1670) is one of the most important philosophical works of the early modern period. In it Spinoza discusses at length the historical circumstances of the composition and transmission of the Bible, demonstrating the fallibility of both its authors and its interpreters. He argues that free enquiry is not only consistent with the security and prosperity of a state but actually essential to them, and that such freedom flourishes best in a democratic and republican state in which individuals are left free while religious organizations are subordinated to the secular power. His Treatise has profoundly influenced the subsequent history of political thought, Enlightenment 'clandestine' or radical philosophy, Bible hermeneutics, and textual criticism more generally. It is presented here in a translation of great clarity and accuracy by Michael Silverthorne and Jonathan Israel, with a substantial historical and philosophical introduction by Jonathan Israel.

Spinoza's Theological-Political Treatise was published anonymously in 1670 and immediately provoked huge debate. Its main goal was to claim that the freedom of philosophizing can be allowed in a free republic and that it cannot be abolished without also destroying the peace and piety of that republic. Spinoza criticizes the traditional claims of revelation and offers a social contract theory in which he praises democracy as the most natural form of government. This new Critical Guide presents new essays by well-known scholars in the field and covers a broad range of topics, including the political theory and the metaphysics of the work, religious toleration, the reception of the text by other early modern philosophers, and the relation of the text to Jewish thought. It offers valuable new perspectives on this important and influential work.

This book presents the first accessible analysis of Spinoza's Tractatus Theologico-politicus, situating the work in the context of Spinoza’s general philosophy and its 17th-century historical background. According to Spinoza it is impossible for a being to be infinitely perfect and to have a legislative will. This idea, demonstrated in the Ethics, is presupposed and further elaborated in the Tractatus Theologico-politicus. It implies not only that on the level of truth all revealed religion is false, but also that all authority is of human origin and that all obedience is rooted in a political structure. The consequences for authority as it is used in a religious context are explored: the authority of Scripture, the authority of particular interpretations of Scripture, and the authority of the Church. Verbeek also explores the work of two other philosophers of the period - Hobbes and Descartes - to highlight certain peculiarities of Spinoza's position, and to show the contrasts between their theories.

A complete translation in English of this modern text, with substantive apparatus to allow the student and serious reader to grapple in a meaningful way with this seminal text. The text includes ample footnotes, Spinoza’s annotations, an interpretative essay, glossary and other indices. Focus Philosophical Library translations are close to and are non-interpretative of the original text, with the notes and a glossary intending to provide the reader with some sense of the terms and the concepts as they were understood by Spinoza’s immediate audience. This is the paperback edition.

When it appeared in 1670, Baruch Spinoza's Theological-Political Treatise was denounced as the most dangerous book ever published. Religious and secular authorities saw it as a threat to faith, social and political harmony, and everyday morality, and its author was almost universally regarded as a religious subversive and political radical who sought to spread atheism throughout Europe. Steven Nadler tells the story of this book: its radical claims and their background in the philosophical, religious, and political tensions of the Dutch Golden Age, as well as the vitriolic reaction these ideas inspired. A vivid story of incendiary ideas and vicious backlash, A Book Forged in Hell will interest anyone who is curious about the origin of some of our most cherished modern beliefs--Jacket p. [2].

Men would never be superstitious, if they could govern all their circumstances by set rules, or if they were always favoured by fortune: but being frequently driven into straits where rules are useless, and being often kept fluctuating pitiably between hope and fear by the uncertainty of fortune's greedily coveted favours, they are consequently, for the most part, very prone to credulity. The human mind is readily swayed this way or that in times of doubt, especially when hope and fear are struggling for the mastery, though usually it is boastful, over - confident, and vain. This as a general fact I suppose everyone knows, though few, I believe, know their own nature; no one can have lived in the world without observing that most people, when in prosperity, are so over-brimming with wisdom (however inexperienced they may be), that they take every offer of advice as a personal insult, whereas in adversity they know not where to turn, but beg and pray for counsel from every passer-by. No plan is then too futile, too absurd, or too fatuous for their adoption; the most frivolous causes will raise them to hope, or plunge them into despair - if anything happens during their fright which reminds them of some past good or ill, they think it portends a happy or unhappy issue, and therefore (though it may have proved abortive a hundred times before) style it a lucky or unlucky omen. Anything which excites their astonishment they believe to be a portent signifying the anger of the gods or of the Supreme Being, and, mistaking superstition for religion, account it impious not to avert the evil with prayer and sacrifice. Signs and wonders of this sort they conjure up perpetually, till one might think Nature as mad as themselves, they interpret her so fantastically. Thus it is brought prominently before us, that superstition's chief victims are those persons who greedily covet temporal advantages; they it is, who (especially when they are in danger, and cannot help themselves) are wont with Prayers and womanish tears to implore help from God: upbraiding Reason as blind, because she cannot show a sure path to the shadows they pursue, and rejecting human wisdom as vain; but believing the phantoms of imagination, dreams, and other childish absurdities, to be the very oracles of Heaven. As though God had turned away from the wise, and written His decrees, not in the mind of man but in the entrails of beasts, or left them to be proclaimed by the inspiration and instinct of fools, madmen, and birds. Such is the unreason to which terror can drive mankind!

Spinoza's Political Treatise constitutes the very last stage in the development of his thought, as he left the manuscript incomplete at the time of his death in 1677. On several crucial issues - for example, the new conception of the 'free multitude' - the work goes well beyond his Theological Political Treatise (1670), and arguably presents ideas that were not fully developed even in his Ethics. This volume of newly commissioned essays on the Political Treatise is the first collection in English to be dedicated specifically to the work, ranging over topics including political explanation, national religion, the civil state, vengeance, aristocratic government, and political luck. It will be a major resource for scholars who are interested in this important but still neglected work, and in Spinoza's political philosophy more generally.

In this pathbreaking work, Christopher Skeaff argues that a profoundly democratic conception of judgment is at the heart of Spinoza’s thought. Bridging Continental and Anglo-American scholarship, critical theory, and Spinoza studies, Becoming Political offers a historically sensitive, meticulous, and creative interpretation of Spinoza’s texts that reveals judgment as the communal element by which people generate power to resist domination and reconfigure the terms of their political association. If, for Spinoza, judging is the activity which makes a people powerful, it is because it enables them to contest the project of ruling and demonstrate the political possibility of being equally free to articulate the terms of their association. This proposition differs from a predominant contemporary line of argument that treats the people’s judgment as a vehicle of sovereignty—a means of defining and refining the common will. By recuperating in Spinoza’s thought a “vital republicanism,” Skeaff illuminates a line of political thinking that decouples democracy from the majoritarian aspiration to rule and aligns it instead with the project of becoming free and equal judges of common affairs. As such, this decoupling raises questions that ordinarily go unasked: what calls for political judgment, and who is to judge? In Spinoza’s vital republicanism, the political potential of life and law finds an affirmative relationship that signals the way toward a new constitutionalism and jurisprudence of the common.

Trop souvent j’ai oublié qu’une seule chose est nécessaire. Jésus était là qui m’invitait à le contempler, à me tenir à ses pieds, simple comme un enfant, uniquement occupé de sa Sainte Face, attentif au regard dont Il m’illuminait l’âme. Mais moi, croyant le mieux servir si je m’agitais autour de lui, j’ai substitué ma volonté à la sienne. Je me suis affairé, çà et là, dans l’assemblée des fidèles ; j’ai prétendu me distinguer parmi les autres ; j’ai multiplié mes empressements comme pour Lui faire valoir mon zèle. Alors, sous l’apparence d’une activité sanctifiée, mon âme se ternit comme un miroir où s’étale la bave du Vieux Serpent. Ce n’était plus le Maître que je regardais, c’était moi-même avec mon sale orgueil. Quand mon âme, infatuée, dénombrant, avec complaisance, ses sollicitudes présentes et à venir, toute trépidante de pensées vaniteuses, est revenue s’agenouiller devant Jésus — voici qu’Il s’était en allé… Effaré, plein de désarroi, je l’ai cherché aux profondeurs de mon être. Écartant les formes et les images du monde, j’ai voulu retrouver cette flamme secrète qu’il m’avait donnée comme un reflet de l’étoile rédemptrice qui brille dans ses yeux. Elle s’était éclipsée. Quoi m’écriai-je, n’a-t-il pas dit : — Si quelqu’un m’aime, je viendrai en lui et je ferai en lui ma demeure ? Je n’ai donc pas su l’aimer de la façon dont il le demande ? Sa voix me répondit, très lointaine : — Le feu était ardent mais il ne s’élevait pas sans fumée. Puis j’entendis l’écho de ses pas s’affaiblir et se perdre dans la distance. Et je connus cette angoisse : la nuit de l’esprit par l’absence de Jésus. Parmi les ombres froides de cette nuit désolée, je fus dans un désert où il n’y avait plus de chemins ni de poteaux indicateurs. Mon seul Guide étant parti, j’errais, horriblement solitaire, comme au hasard. J’essayais de prier, mais toutes mes prières, en vain dardées vers le ciel, retombaient autour de moi, comme une poignée de sable sur une terre à jamais aride : elles se dispersaient au souffle des vents âpres qui balaient cette noire étendue. Si je faisais effort pour les renouveler, je ne parvenais à les articuler qu’avec ennui et dégoût. Je tentais de me réfugier dans l’Évangile, verger miraculeux où, naguère, Jésus m’avait permis de récolter les fruits suprasubstantiels de son enseignement. Mais il me sembla que c’était un enclos où ne végétaient que des arbres stériles. Bientôt il me devint impossible de prier ou de concevoir une fin à cet abandon. Le désert intérieur reculait ses limites à l’infini ; les ténèbres devenaient de plus en plus épaisses. Elles pesaient si fort que mon âme fléchit. Gisante sur le sol, ne pouvant même pas pleurer, suant une sueur sanglante, elle demeurait inerte dans le silence affreux que déchirait parfois le rire funèbre de celui qui se nomme : le père de la désespérance éternelle.