Recently Published Book Spotlight: Freedom and Ground

Mark J. Thomas is Associate Professor of Philosophy at Central College (Pella, IA). His research interests include the metaphysics of German idealism, aesthetics, and the epistemology of authority. His first book Freedom and Ground: A Study of Schelling’s Treatise on Freedom explores the historical context of F. W. J. Schelling’s work on human freedom and the significance of his different uses of the word “ground” (Grund). In this interview, Thomas discusses his motivations for writing such an extensive analysis of Schelling’s work, Schelling’s overarching model of grounding relations, and the questions he would like to explore next.

What is your work about?

My book is a study of one of the classic texts of German idealism: F. W. J. Schelling’s Philosophical Investigations into the Essence of Human Freedom. In recent decades there has been a resurgence of interest in Schelling, and the 1809 treatise on freedom is at the heart of that Schelling renaissance. Heidegger called the treatise “one of the most profound works of German, thus of Western, philosophy.”

You might well ask: why devote an entire book to discussing a single work by Schelling? The short answer is that his thought in that work is so complex—and draws on so much historical background—that a book-length treatment is needed to understand the text and appreciate its significance. And Schelling’s treatise covers a remarkable range of topics beyond freedom, including God, the origins of nature, the logic of the copula, and the problem of evil. That’s because Schelling’s concern is to treat freedom in the context of the whole and thus to construct a “system of freedom.”

My approach to the treatise focuses on the word “ground” (Grund), which occurs at key moments in the text—most prominently in discussions of the ground of God’s existence. The word is fairly common in German philosophy, and its usual meaning is roughly “reason why.” It is also a keyword in German mysticism, going back to Meister Eckhart. My central claim is that Schelling’s (largely implicit) distinction between senses of “ground” is the key to his project of constructing a system that can satisfy reason while accommodating objects that seem to defy rational explanation—including freedom and evil. In particular, Schelling develops non-deterministic senses of “ground,” thus breaking with the larger metaphysical tradition, which tends to understand ground deterministically. In Schelling’s treatise, to ground does not primarily mean to determine, but to make possible.

Why did you feel the need to write this work?

I had three main reasons. First, I wanted to push back on a dominant trend in Schelling interpretation. Since Heidegger’s influential 1936 lecture course, the tendency has been to focus on the “dark side” of Schelling’s thought, highlighting evil and other irrational elements that resist integration within a philosophical system. When the irrational is the center of attention, it’s hard to escape the conclusion that Schelling’s project to construct a system of freedom fails (as Heidegger claims). How can Schelling affirm an all-encompassing “system of reason,” when such a system can’t accommodate the irrational side of reality?     

It’s certainly true that evil and the irrational are an essential part of Schelling’s treatise—and the source of much of the work’s appeal. One of its most powerful passages concerns the “irreducible remainder” within nature, “which, [even] with the greatest exertion, cannot be resolved in understanding.” But my book breaks with the tendency to interpret these irrational elements as essentially incompatible with a system of reason. I argue instead that Schelling’s new understanding of grounding allows him to incorporate the irrational within the system. To be sure, Schelling rejects a narrow form of rationalism, which he associates with mechanistic grounding: that kind of rational system can’t account for evil. But he affirms a richer, more comprehensive form of rationalism, what I call a “living rationalism.” Here the grounding structures are dynamic (not mechanistic) and can account for the “dark” side of reality.

The second reason for writing the book was Schelling’s distinctive approach to freedom—and philosophy in general. One of the things that first attracted me to Schelling is the unique combination of reason and mystery found in his writings, especially the treatise on freedom. On the one hand, he has a strong commitment to reason, which is evident in his affirmation of systematic connectedness and grounding. On the other hand, his language often evokes a sense of mystery and wonder—a sense that ordinary language and ways of thinking cannot capture the ultimate reality of things. That’s one reason why Schelling draws on the language of mysticism at decisive moments in the text. And it seems to me that his distinctive combination of reason and mystery is ideal for approaching freedom and evil, which have mysterious aspects, even if they can also be treated rationally.

Finally, I wrote the book to shed light on difficult passages in the treatise, closely analyzing Schelling’s language while drawing on other texts in his corpus, which are often neglected when interpreting the work. In particular, I wanted to address a widespread misunderstanding of the distinction at the heart of the treatise: the distinction between that-which-exists and the ground of existence. Beginning with Heidegger, interpreters have often referred to a distinction between existence and the ground of existence. But Schelling makes clear in his later reply to Eschenmayer that existence and that-which-exists should also be distinguished. (There’s a significant irony in Heidegger’s oversight, since an analogous distinction between Sein and Seiendes is so important to his own thought.)

Why is it important to distinguish existence from that-which-exists? The core meaning of existence in the treatise is revelation: Schelling is effectively developing an ontology of revelation. And if existence means revelation, then that-which-exists means that-which-is-revealed—and that’s not the same as its revelation (existence). And so, Schelling’s original distinction really amounts to a distinction between that-which-is-revealed and the ground of its revelation.

Which of your insights or conclusions do you find most exciting?

Probably my conclusions about Schelling’s overarching model of grounding relations—in particular, the way in which he rejects what I call the “all-from-one model” of grounding. According to this model, we begin with a single absolute starting point (God), and every feature of reality is derived from that starting point. In effect, this model is Leibniz’s application of the traditional principle of sufficient reason: God is the sufficient reason of all that is, and every aspect of reality can be traced back to the nature of God. Schelling himself seems to adopt something like this model in his earlier identity-philosophy (though there are important differences).

Right away, one can see reasons for rejecting the all-from-one model: it doesn’t seem to leave room for freedom, and it makes the nature of God responsible for everything that happens, including evil. So how does one go about rejecting the model? A popular solution is to deny the principle of sufficient reason, thus introducing gaps—groundless phenomena that arise randomly and thus can’t be traced back to a single absolute starting point. In my interpretation, Schelling doesn’t take this route, since he (indirectly) affirms a version of the principle of sufficient reason.

Instead, I argue that Schelling does two things. First, he makes “condition of the possibility” the primary sense of ground. All things are connected by grounding, but this isn’t a deterministic derivation from a first principle. Rather, the different parts of the system are the conditions of the possibility of the other parts: the system is a circle of presupposition. Second, Schelling multiplies the starting points: from an eternal perspective, each human being is a “free and eternal beginning” that is radically self-determining. These starting points are equally original; indeed, I argue that “equiprimordiality” plays a decisive role in the treatise, as a result of Schelling’s rejection of the all-from-one model. Of course, there are difficulties with his new model of grounding relations, especially with respect to the coordination of things that are equally original. But Schelling is truly innovative in the way that he affirms both systematic connectedness and the co-originality of free beings.

I mentioned the radical self-determination of freedom. There’s a related insight from the book I’d like to quickly highlight: Schelling’s recognition that the demands of ultimate moral responsibility require that each of us as human beings be a causa sui with respect to our individual essence. To be responsible for what we do, we must be responsible for who we are—and thus determine who we are. That’s because everything we do follows from who we are. Schelling thus anticipates one of Galen Strawson’s central claims about moral responsibility. But unlike Strawson, Schelling attempts to provide a metaphysical framework—and an understanding of grounding—in which such a radical self-determination is possible.                 

What effect do you hope your work will have?

I would be delighted if my book got more people to read and appreciate Schelling! That would include the treatise on freedom, of course—but I also hope to draw attention to less popular texts that illuminate his thought. For example, I discuss in the book a remarkable passage from the 1802 Further Presentations from the System of Philosophy. Schelling notes that “most see in the essence of the absolute nothing but pure night.” He wrote that passage five years before the publication of Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit, with its famous quip that the absolute is like the night in which all cows are black. So already in 1802 Schelling had anticipated Hegel’s famous criticism! Schelling’s response is a beautiful passage describing the role of form in his philosophy. It is “the day in which we grasp that night and the wonders concealed within it.”

Certainly, I would be delighted if the book creates interest in exploring Schelling’s approach to grounding at other stages of his development; I believe my framing of the treatise in terms of the “problem of ground” can be applied more broadly. I also hope to start a conversation on the role of mystery in Schelling’s philosophy. It hasn’t really been a topic of discussion in the scholarship, probably because Schelling himself does not thematize it. And yet it is such an important part of his style of philosophizing, especially evident in the haunting language he so often uses. It also connects nicely with the themes of hiddenness and revelation, which Schelling addresses more explicitly. I think it’s worth exploring more what mystery means from a philosophical perspective and how one recognizes mystery.

What’s next for you?

There’s certainly more work I’d like to do on Schelling. Besides exploring the theme of mystery, I’d like to investigate Schelling’s understanding of the role of philosophy in human life: Why do philosophy? Does it address an essential human need? Is it for everyone or only a select few? In the long term, I’d like to pose those same questions with respect to all the major figures in German Idealism.

Beyond Schelling, I’ve begun work on a very different project, focusing on the concept of philosophical authority. Throughout the history of philosophy, “great philosophers” like Plato and Aristotle have functioned as authorities for their followers. Beginning with modern philosophy, however, there has been a widespread assumption that philosophical authority must be illegitimate: it does not allow one to think for oneself, which is a requirement of philosophical reflection. By contrast, I wish to explore forms of philosophical authority that can be legitimate—if they combine respect for a great thinker with the autonomy needed for doing philosophy oneself. The model is the respected teacher, who offers authoritative guidance while encouraging independent thought.

I believe the concept of philosophical authority has interesting implications for what we read in philosophy and how we read it. In particular, it helps explain why we take an interest in great thinkers in philosophy’s history—such as Schelling. So, applying the concept to Schelling: even if I don’t always agree with his claims, I certainly regard him as a wise teacher and guide. And I hope that my book helps readers appreciate his wisdom on freedom.