Progress and Limits of Freedom of Thought in Europe from the 16th to the 18th Century

Since the 19th century, Western intellectuals have studied the development of individualization, as opposed to the primacy of society over the individuals who compose it. Probably, the idealizations of the individual as well as the political tensions related to socialism and conservatism have contributed to favouring this angle of analysis. Here, we will focus on freedom of thought, which allows us to consider in a complementary way human associations, as they aggregate and transmit knowledge, and individuals who question the world in which they live, particularly their society.

Calling into question the values of one’s society constitutes a philosophical activity that is not self-evident because, intuitively, it carries the risk of division instead of a union synonymous with social peace. It develops more spontaneously in a historical context where social antagonisms are particularly strong, as was the case in Europe from the 16th to the 18th century, where civil wars and armed conflicts between nations followed one another, and forms of tyranny prevailed. Under these conditions, it can be part of an effort towards pacification.

After explaining other elements of the historical context that favoured the expansion of freedom of thought in Europe from the 16th to the 18th century, we will distinguish three philosophical moments that follow one another and overlap: the sceptical moment, which begins with Montaigne; the critical moment, driven notably by Charron, the erudite libertines, Spinoza, and Bayle; and the theoretical moment, during which new conceptualizations are constructed. It should be noted that criticism has always existed since Antiquity and appears coextensive with philosophical life. Therefore, it is obviously found in Montaigne, but it intensifies and more directly attacks authorities and principles (moral, political, epistemological) from the 17th century onwards. This is why we differentiate the critical moment from the sceptical moment.

Elements of Historical Context

Let us begin by mentioning some historical facts that, beyond the political constraints previously mentioned, accompany and partly explain the expansion of freedom of thought. The first, and probably the most important, lies in the diversification of knowledge from the 16th century onwards: new philosophies blossom, heterodox religious interpretations multiply, and travel accounts reporting foreign customs appear. Philosophically, the Renaissance signifies a rediscovery of the Ancients, which is not limited to Aristotle, and an incorporation of their conceptualizations into Christian frameworks of thought. Religiously, the Reformation initiates the emergence of a multitude of sects emancipated from papal authority. Morally, the accounts of explorations of the Americas, the Middle East, or Asia foster an understanding of cultural relativity, particularly in Montaigne.

These new forms of knowledge are disseminated more easily throughout Europe thanks to the technique of printing (1450), as noted by Condorcet in his Sketch for a Historical Picture of the Progress of the Human Mind: “These multiplied copies, spreading with greater rapidity, not only make facts and discoveries more widely known, but they also achieve this with greater promptness. Knowledge has become the object of active, universal commerce.”1

From the 17th century onwards, scientific discoveries contribute more significantly to the increase in knowledge. It is important to keep in mind that these discoveries arise thanks to the contribution of techniques such as the astronomical telescope used by Galileo, or the air pump invented by Boyle. We often speak of ‘science and technology,’ but from a historical perspective, the former develops after the latter. A multitude of other techniques in the agricultural, manufacturing, and commercial sectors contribute to economic development, which in turn encourages the formation of a bourgeois class capable of criticizing and then competing with the aristocracy that had been in power for more than a thousand years.

The Sceptical Moment

Among the Ancients rediscovered during the Renaissance, those from sceptical philosophical currents have a major impact on freedom of thought due to the role they play, especially Sextus Empiricus,2 in debates about faith and the interpretation of the Scriptures. Savonarola, Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, and then Gianfrancesco Pico della Mirandola use sceptical arguments to discredit pagan philosophies and justify Christian faith. Erasmus and the theologians of the Counter-Reformation adopt a similar strategy against Protestantism, emphasizing how religion contains obscure elements accessible only through revelations, not through certainties obtained by reading the Bible.3

Insofar as reason and faith are not opposed, because the latter dominates the former, 16th-century thinkers do not immediately perceive the threat posed by the sceptical use of reason to religion. Is this the case with Montaigne? He pushes scepticism to the point where no truth remains established exclusively by reason. Only a faith dissociated from reasonable truths persists.4 In a way, he creates a split between reason and faith. Since the sciences had not yet undergone their revolution (that of the 17th century), nothing hinders his doubts. For him, they are of no help in the domain of ethics, where one should rely on nature: “Most of the lessons of science to encourage us have more fine appearance than strength and more ornament than profit. We have abandoned Nature and we want to teach her her lesson, she who guided us so happily and so surely.”5

In the moral domain,6 his models are Stoic nature and Socratic ignorance, an ignorance that is fully justified from a Christian perspective via original sin: “Christians know particularly well how curiosity is a natural and original evil of man. The desire to grow in wisdom and knowledge was the first fall of the human race; it is the way by which it plunged into eternal damnation. Pride is its downfall and corruption.”7 Obedience to reasonable nature and the customs that derive from it aligns with a sceptical ignorance that is not unrelated to a desire for social peace:

One should not leave it to each individual’s judgment to determine where their duty lies; it must be prescribed to them, and they should not be given the right to choose according to their own whims: otherwise, given the weakness and endless variety of our reasons and opinions, we would ultimately create duties that would lead us to devour one another [. . .]. From obedience and submission all other virtues arise [. . .]. The plague of man is to think that he knows. 8

As for knowledge, only that which comes from one’s own (natural) experiences has sufficient robustness: “there is no deception in the senses; we must put ourselves at their mercy and seek elsewhere for reasons to excuse the differences and contradictions we discover in them.”9 Self-knowledge through one’s experiences appears sufficient to lead a good life: “I would rather understand myself well than Cicero. With the experience I have of myself, I find enough to make me wise […]. Let us only listen to our life: it tells us everything we mainly need to know.”10

Montaigne reinterprets the Greek maxim ‘know thyself’ by drawing useful knowledge for life not from ideas reflecting a common morality, which he perceives as relative to each people, but from his own experiences. And he can rely all the more on these as he records them in his Essays and thus gradually develops his own approach: “All the glory I claim from my life is to have lived it serenely: serenely not according to Metrodorus, or Arcesilaus, or Aristippus, but according to myself. Since philosophy has not been able to find any path to tranquillity that is good for everyone, let each person seek it within themselves, individually!” 11

It is not because Montaigne observes the relativity of laws and customs and reaches a form of scientific scepticism (like Socrates) that he does not hold certain moral convictions, convictions that transcend geographical boundaries and biological species, as he elaborates extensively in the ‘Apology for Raymond Sebond’. Montaigne’s scepticism is not that of a Pyrrho or a Sextus; it does not lead to the complete suspension of judgment, just as Socrates, in all likelihood, did not profess complete ignorance.12 Rather than doubting to the point of dissolving all his convictions, Montaigne questions all types of knowledge to establish his reasons for acting and thinking on new bases. These new bases are related to his own experiences as well as those reported to him, particularly in the case of the New World. From this perspective, his method of reflection can be considered modern; it sets the direction that all philosophers after him will follow, whether it be Bacon, Descartes (who will base his philosophy on the intuition of the cogito, thus a personal experience), Hobbes, or Locke, who will start from experience.

The Critical Moment

The sceptical moment is followed by the critical moment, beginning with Pierre Charron, a disciple of Montaigne, who argues against superstitions and for tolerance in La Sagesse. The latter will inspire “Spinoza in the preface of the Theologico-Political Treatise and Bayle in Various Thoughts on the Occasion of a Comet. This is a strong text where Charron’s position may seem ambiguous; but his readers did not hesitate on the interpretation to give it: all religions are infiltrated with superstition,”13 including Christianity.

According to Charron, “Freedom of judgment consists in not making a decision until after careful examination. One must also firmly adhere only to what is more probable and more useful. — There are people who want to be believed without question: they are enemies of all freedom of judgment. It is a human right to judge everything; but one should not believe that the opinion one adopts is the best.”14 In a Christian culture where freedom is associated with original sin via Augustine of Hippo, Charron innovates by establishing a right to judge everything. At the same time, he frames freedom of thought with two boundaries: the probable and the useful.

During the 17th century, criticism developed among a group of intellectuals labelled by René Pintard15 as ‘erudite libertines,’ who were largely inspired16 by Charron and Vanini17. Their critiques targeted superstitions, inconsistencies in the Bible, ecclesiastical behaviours that did not conform to dogmas, and, in Naudé’s case, the relationship between religion and politics. Their aim was to emancipate morality and politics from religion by criticizing Christianity. However, they did not develop new political-moral theories, instead using reason to discredit prejudices, that is, beliefs that had not been questioned. Collins thus defines freedom of thought as « The Use of the Understanding, in endeavouring to find out the Meaning of any Proposition whatsoever, in considering the nature of the Evidence for or against it, and in judging of it according to the seeming Force or Weakness of the Evidence.”18 His language is agonistic. According to the libertines, only the « strong minds » can emancipate themselves from superstitions, dogmas, and traditions.

Criticism is not limited to ethics in general; it develops in epistemology, particularly starting with Bacon, who rejects Aristotle,19 and then Descartes, who disapproves of the scholastic methods of reflection. In the second half of the 17th century and the beginning of the 18th century, it applies more directly to politics with authors like Jurieu, Fénelon, Saint-Simon, and Boulainvilliers. They condemn the absolutism of Louis XIV, not to promote a more republican or democratic regime, but to return to the historical traditions of the French monarchy.20 Taking a more republican approach, Locke deconstructs Filmer’s arguments in favour of patriarchy and divine-right monarchy.

Spinoza ventures further than his predecessors and contemporaries in affirming freedom and equality, as opposed to an aristocratic structure of society. His Theologico-Political Treatise synthesizes various critiques of religion and politics. He asserts: “Wholly repugnant to the general freedom are such devices as enthralling men’s minds with prejudices, forcing their judgment, or employing any of the weapons of quasi-religious sedition”.21 Yet kings use religious prejudices to enslave their peoples. Under these conditions, it is necessary to interpret the Scriptures in the light of reason, to separate religion from politics, and to make freedom the ultimate goal of the State.22

Let us slightly anticipate the theoretical moment. With the Political Treatise, Spinoza embarks on an unprecedented democratic turn:23 freedom and equality, rooted in nature, persist after the establishment of the social contract; citizens share the same human nature, which they can utilize through learning and practice; in a democracy, there are fewer reasons to fear absurd procedures, as popular assemblies legislate with greater wisdom, particularly because debates sharpen minds and promote the development of skills.

At the dawn of the 18th century, Bayle embodies the critical spirit that will nourish the Enlightenment, as he is probably the one who cultivated it with the most fervor: few philosophical theories escape the scrutiny of his pen and his epistemological scepticism. Like Montaigne, although he achieves a dissociation of reason and faith, his doubts do not lead him to dissolve morality. He thus tirelessly preaches religious tolerance.

In the 17th and 18th centuries, criticisms developed in religious, moral, political, and epistemological spheres with a common point: the use of reason as a tool to deconstruct prejudices. This reason can resemble logical analysis, be based on burgeoning sciences, or on factual history. It can lead to epistemological and/or moral scepticism if no sufficiently solid foundation is found. Otherwise, it contributes to the development of new theories.

The Theoretical Moment

If critiques are not necessarily followed by new conjectures, theorizing is systematically accompanied by criticisms since the emergence of philosophy in ancient Greece. Where does such a habit come from? Perhaps due to political and rhetorical customs, it is necessary first to devalue received theories, as Aristotle paradigmatically did, before presenting one’s own. Perhaps also the limitation of human knowledge, combined with attachment to certainties, compels us to dismantle before proving, despite the goal since Plato of conceiving a philosophy that is scientific. Finally, perhaps criticism, as a literary expression of a certain anger, manifests the initial impulse towards unconventional ways of thinking and acting.

Whatever the case may be, the philosophical desire to produce truths is at its zenith in the 17th and 18th centuries. Even Hume, who among the first introduces a distinction between science and ethics, strives to conceive a scientific morality. It is during this period that the most extensive philosophical systems are developed. One only needs to read Locke’s An Essay Concerning Human Understanding to marvel at the scope of such endeavours, which would no longer be justified today given the progress made since in biology and psychology. Many philosophers of this period, even if they affiliate themselves with traditions of thought, start from a blank slate (Descartes, Spinoza, Locke, Gassendi, Leibniz…). They devise a new way of understanding the world, which interweaves psychology, morality, and politics, with the latter two largely deriving from the first. In the language of the time, they define an ethics and/or a politics based on a conception of human nature, which underpins the universalism of the Enlightenment.24

Let us now focus on the theorizations of freedom of thought: four main approaches, compatible with each other, can be distinguished, all considering freedom as the first principle of morality, following the debates on natural law since the 12th century.25 The first approach, which can be called voluntarist, views freedom of thought as a consequence of free will. This is particularly found in Descartes, Rousseau, and Kant. One can question the relevance of starting from a metaphysical freedom, especially when it comes to making the transition from psychology to politics, a transition that Rousseau ventured into deeply and which, through the concept of the general will, unfortunately contributed in its historical application to the Reign of Terror, thus opposing the principle-purpose.

The second approach, epistemological, is supported by all philosophers. Closely associating freedom of thought with truth, whether within a deterministic or indeterministic framework, it arises from the critical moment: truth frees from prejudices. Locke thus defends a form of religious tolerance, except for atheism, which aligns with the idea that reason takes precedence over religious revelations.26 He also mentions “the entertainment of those who let loose their own thoughts, and follow them in writing.”27 These thoughts should not be borrowed without discernment, for then they are “not following truth, but some meaner consideration.”28 Descartes believes that the knowledge of the good and the true invites one to choose them freely,29 illustrating a compatibility between indeterminism and truth. As for Spinoza, he is probably the one who develops the most, in the Ethics, a theory of freedom of thought based on knowledge, demonstrating the dual nature of truth: scientific and moral. He completely overturns the concept of original sin from the Bible: according to him, knowledge, and especially the knowledge of God, is the source of happiness because it promotes the possibility of acting rather than suffering.

The third approach, historical, extends the previous one as it draws the contours of an indefinite progress in sciences and morality. It is fitting here to cite Bacon, who articulates the modern idea of progress:

Other signs may be selected from the increase and progress of particular systems of philosophy and the sciences; for those which are founded on nature grow and increase, while those which are founded on opinion change and increase not. If, therefore, the theories we have mentioned were not like plants, torn up by the roots, but grew in the womb of nature, and were nourished by her, that which for the last two thousand years has taken place would never have happened, namely, that the sciences still continue in their beaten track, and nearly stationary [. . .]. But we see that the case is reversed in the mechanical arts, which are founded on nature and the light of experience, for they (as long as they are popular) seem full of life, and uninterruptedly thrive and grow, being at first rude, then convenient, lastly polished, and perpetually improved.30

Descartes follows the same path by inviting us to “render ourselves the masters and possessors of nature,”31 a sentiment echoed by Diderot and the Encyclopaedists in the 18th century.32 In his Sketch for a Historical Picture of the Progress of the Human Mind, Condorcet outlines the stages of the development of sciences and freedom of thought, considering them inseparable: “Perhaps the most important achievement is having destroyed prejudices and, in a way, corrected human intelligence, which had been forced to conform to the false directions imposed by absurd beliefs transmitted in childhood, accompanied by the terrors of superstition and the fear of tyranny. All political and moral errors are based on philosophical errors, which are themselves linked to physical errors.”33

Unlike the second approach, the third does not enjoy unanimous support. In his two Discourses,34 Rousseau paints a much darker moral picture of the history of sciences and arts. Differently from Hume, he introduces a disjunction between scientific truths and moral truths, since the former do not necessarily imply the latter. However, this does not mean that he fully separates ethics from science, as he relies on an inherently good nature to define morality. He thus limits himself to showing the ethical ambivalence of sciences and technologies.

The fourth and final approach, political, deals with freedom of conscience, or religious tolerance, and freedom of opinion, two forms of freedom particularly restricted under absolute monarchies, especially in France after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685. While the previous approaches are linked to truth, this one partly stems from an aspiration for civil peace after decades of religious wars. It is in this perspective that Bayle, Locke, Voltaire, and many others advocate for tolerance.

Let’s return to Spinoza, who elaborates on freedom of opinion in the Theologico-Political Treatise:  » No, the object of government is not to change men from rational beings into beasts or puppets, but to enable them to develope their minds and bodies in security, and to employ their reason unshackled; neither showing hatred, anger, or deceit, nor watched with the eyes of jealousy and injustice.”35 The Dutch philosopher envisions a future where freedom of thought flourishes in an environment with fewer conflicts, notably because citizens act reasonably within the framework of a social contract where they have ceded some of their rights to the state. “If formal assent is not to be esteemed above conviction, and if governments are to retain a firm hold of authority and not be compelled to yield to agitators, it is imperative that freedom of judgment should be granted, so that men may live together in harmony, however diverse, or even openly contradictory their opinions may be.”36 The historical example of the city of Amsterdam, where he lived, convinced Spinoza of the compatibility between freedom of thought and civil peace.

The Love of Truth

In Diderot and d’Alembert’s Encyclopaedia37, the primary meaning of freedom is of a moral nature: freedom “resides in the power that an intelligent being has to do what he wants, according to his own determination.” From this perspective, truths “command our consent and leave us no freedom. All that depends on us is to apply our mind to them or to distance ourselves from them. But as soon as the evidence diminishes, freedom returns to its rights, which vary and are regulated according to the degrees of clarity or obscurity.” This conception of freedom aligns with the voluntarist approach.

Further within the same article, freedom of thought matches the epistemological approach. It is defined either as “that generous strength of mind which binds our persuasion solely to truth,” or as “the only effect that can be expected, according to strong minds, from a free and accurate examination,” namely “inconviction” or scepticism. Only the meaning associated with truth should elicit approval; the other is “blameworthy” and “deserves to be fought against”. Such delimitation is justified by the rejection of the sceptical moment, a rejection that is understood in light of the fact that the truths in question are simultaneously scientific and moral.

Freedom of thought, by its affiliation with truth, appears ambiguous: on one hand, it allows for emancipation from prejudices and false beliefs; on the other hand, it tends towards moral truths that apply to society as a whole and which, according to many thinkers, go hand in hand with scientific and technological discoveries. Well, regarding the minimal moral truths of freedom and equality, agreement on their meanings remains particularly problematic to this day. Moreover, since freedom is largely seen as negative for many,38 except for some people engaged in politics, economics has historically and implicitly, through its scientification, property rights, the value of labour, and the national pursuit of wealth (which itself is part of competition between nations), risen to the rank of a major moral truth.

The contributions of skeptical, critical, and theoretical rationalities in Europe from the 16th to the 18th century to freedom of thought cannot be overstated. At a time when the Enlightenment still faces criticisms from postmodernist perspectives, often rightly so, it is important to remember how much they opened pathways and enlightened minds. To such an extent that one might wonder if freedom of thought continued to expand from the 19th century onwards, beyond the progress of knowledge and the critique of prejudices, of an aristocratic type, which had not yet been put on trial.

To what extent are we willing to question our values? It seems to me that the American and French revolutions partly froze the process of expanding freedom of thought because they entrenched moral truths. It’s as if, once the foundations of a state are laid, however malleable they may be in terms of interpretation, it is no longer possible to deeply question them, except by embarking on new revolutions that would establish their own moral principles. In practice, this limitation of freedom of thought is observed in the difficulties in distancing oneself from political and moral subjects: it’s hardly a matter of taking a step back, but rather of taking sides. And this becomes even more apparent in a context of resurgence of armed conflicts and intensification of global economic competition.

---

Notes

1.↑ Condorcet, Esquisse d’un tableau historique des progrès de l’esprit humain, Masson et fils, 1822, p. 150.

2.↑ On this topic, see Richard Popkin, The History of Scepticism: From Savonarola to Bayle, Oxford University Press, 2003.

3.↑ Ibid.

4.↑ Michel de Montaigne, Les Essais en français moderne [EFM], Gallimard, 2009, II, XII, p. 534-535:  “Christians do themselves a disservice by trying to support their belief with human reasons, whereas it can only be understood through faith and a particular inspiration of divine grace.”

5.↑EFM, III, XII, p. 1266.

6.↑ Once again, I do not differentiate between ethics (related to individual happiness) and morality (related to the common good), as Marcel Conche does, for example, in Montaigne et la philosophie, PUF, 2015. This distinction does not fit with Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, which concerns the city as a whole.

7.↑ EFM, II, XII, p. 606. Phrase engraved in Latin in Montaigne’s ‘library’: “[EFM, II, XVII, p. 773] The desire to know things has been given to men as a scourge [to punish them], says the Holy Scripture.”

8.↑ EFM, II, XII, p. 593.

9.↑ EFM, II, XII, p. 721.

10.↑ EFM, III, XIII, p. 1294.

11.↑EFM, II, XVI, p. 759.

12.↑ https://damiengimenez.fr/philosopher-pour-se-transformer-le-tournant-technico-moral-du-cynisme-de-lepicurisme-et-du-stoicisme/ (not translated in English)

13.↑ Françoise Charles-Daubert, Les libertins érudits en France au XVIIe siècle, PUF, 2015.

14.↑ Pierre Charron, De la Sagesse, Tome II, Chassériau, 1821, p. 23. Disponible sur Gallica.

15.↑ The expression is used in his thesis (1943) : Le « libertinage érudit » en France dans la première moitié du XVIIe siècle.

16.↑ Françoise Charles-Daubert, op. cit.

17.↑ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucilio_Vanini

18.↑ Anthony Collins, A Discourse of Free-Thinking, London, 1713, p. 5. Available on archive.org.

19.↑ https://damiengimenez.fr/la-philosophie-technico-naturelle-et-critique-de-francis-bacon/ (not translated in English)

20.↑ Henri Sée, Les idées politiques en France au XVIIIe siècle, Slatkine Reprints, 1980, p. 7.

21.↑ Baruch Spinoza, Theologico-Political Treatise, Preface on gutenberg.org.

22.↑ Ibid.

23.↑ https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/spinoza-political/. On a political level, Spinoza is inspired by, among others, by Hobbes and Machiavel.

24.↑ Of course, the crux of the problem lies in the possibility of agreeing on what human nature is. We are still far from achieving this today.

25.↑ Brian Tierney, The Idea of Natural Rights, William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 2001. A shift occurs in the 12th century in the debates on natural law: the expression ius naturale, which was associated with a cosmological determinism in Stoicism, takes on a subjective tone by being henceforth conceived as a « power, » a « faculty, » or a « free will. »

26.↑ John Locke, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, London, 1825, Book 4, chapter 18, §5. Avaible on archive.org.

27.↑ Ibid., p. 68.

28.↑ Ibid.

29.↑ René Descartes, Méditations métaphysiques, Flammarion, 2009, Méditation quatrième.

30.↑ Francis Bacon, Novum Organum, Collier, 1902, p. 51-52. Avaible on archive.org.

31.↑ René Descartes, Discours de la méthode, Flammarion, 2000, p. 99.

32.↑ Ernst Cassirer, La philosophie des Lumières, Fayard, 1996, p. 268-269.

33.↑ Condorcet, Esquisse d’un tableau historique des progrès de l’esprit humain, Masson et fils, 1822, p. 246-247.

34.↑ Discours sur les sciences et les arts, Discours sur l’origine et les fondements de l’inégalité parmi les hommes.

35.↑ Baruch Spinoza, Theologico-Political Treatise, chapter 20 on gutenberg.org.

36.↑ Ibid.

37.↑ https://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/L%E2%80%99Encyclop%C3%A9die/1re_%C3%A9dition/LIBERT%C3%89

38.↑ That is to say, conceived as an absence of obstacles rather than as a (positive) participation in political life.