The Plotinus Study Materials

The Plotinus Founder of Neoplatonism PLOTINUS (c. 204–270 A.D.) is the final major philosopher of antiquity. His existence nearly coincides with one of the worst times in Roman history. Not long before his birth, the army realized how powerful it was and began selecting emperors in exchange for cash and then assassinating them to provide a pretext for a fresh sale of the Empire. Due to these obsessions, the soldiers were ill-suited to defend the boundary, which allowed German and Persian forces to aggressively advance from the north and east. The population of the Empire was reduced by approximately onethird due to war and plague, and even in the regions where no enemy forces were present, financial disaster was brought about by higher taxes and dwindling resources. Cities, which had previously served as cultural ambassadors, took a particularly heavy blow; a sizable portion of the populace left to avoid the tax collector. It wasn't until Plotinus's demise that the Empire was momentarily spared by the forceful actions of Diocletian and Constantine, and order was restored. Plotinus makes no mention of any of this in his writings. He moved away from the spectacle of devastation and suffering in the real world in order to think about an eternally beautiful and good world. He shared this in common with all the most devout guys of his generation. All of them— pagans and Christians alike—saw no hope in the realm of practical matters, and the Only Realm was deserving of their loyalty. For Christians, the Other reality represented the Heavenly Kingdom, to be experienced posthumously; for Platonists, it represented the everlasting realm of concepts, the actual reality apart from that of deceptive appearances. Christian theologians synthesized these viewpoints and adopted a large portion of Plotinus's worldview. In his indispensable Plotinus book, Dean Inge properly highlights the debt that Christianity owes to Plotinus. He points out that Saint Augustine speaks of Plato's system as "the most pure and bright in all philosophy," and that Plotinus is a man in whom "Plato lived again," and who, if he had lived a little later, would have "changed a few words and phrases and become Christian." Dean Inge claims that Saint Thomas Aquinas "is nearer to Plotinus than to the real Aristotle." Plotinus, therefore, is historically significant as an influence in shaping Catholic theology and Middle Ages Christianity. When discussing Christianity, historians must exercise caution in acknowledging the significant transformations it has undergone and the multitude of guises it may take, even within a single historical period. The Synoptic Gospels' Christianity is essentially free of metaphysics. In this way, modern American Christianity is similar to ancient Christianity: most Americans are far more preoccupied with their responsibilities here on earth and with social advancement in the real world than they are with the transcendental hopes that comforted men when everything on Earth inspired despair. Platonism is also foreign to American popular thought and feeling. I'm talking about a shift in focus and area of interest, not a shift in doctrine. If a contemporary Christian does not see the magnitude of this distinction, he will be unable to comprehend the Christianity of the past. Since our research is historical, we are interested in the prevalent views of earlier eras, and about these, it is hard to dispute with Dean Inge's assessment of the influence of Plotinus and Plato. But Plotinus is significant not just in history. More than any other philosopher, he embodies a significant category of theory. A philosophical system may be considered significant for a number of different reasons. First and foremost, we believe it to be plausible. It is unusual for modern philosophy students to feel this way about Plotinus; Dean Inge is one of the few exceptions. However, there are other qualities that a metaphysic might have than truth. It may has beauty, which Plotinus undoubtedly possesses; there are passages that evoke the latter cantos of Dante's Paradiso more than anything else in literature. His descriptions of the everlasting world of glory periodically appear in our highly developed fancy as the unbroken song of pure concent that is performed in front of the sapphire-colored throne to the one seated there. Once again, a philosophy could be significant if it effectively conveys the beliefs that folks tend to hold in particular situations or states of mind. Simple happiness and sadness belong in the realm of simpler poetry and music, not philosophy. Metaphysical ideas may only arise from feelings of joy and sadness combined with contemplation of the cosmos. A guy might be a somber optimist or a happy pessimist. Plotinus is a superb illustration of the second; Samuel Butler may be used as an example of the first. In the era he lived in, misery is immediate and intense, whereas happiness—if it can be found at all—must be sought via contemplation of things that are far from the sense sensations. Such enjoyment is never truly easy; there is always a strain to it, unlike that of a kid. Furthermore, because it originates from thinking and imagination rather than the material world, it necessitates the ability to reject or ignore the life of the senses. Therefore, people who create the forms of metaphysical optimism that rely on acceptance of the existence of a supersensible world are not those who experience intuitive bliss. Plotinus is highly regarded among the men who have experienced mundane unhappiness but are steadfast in their quest for greater happiness in the realm of theory. Nor are his merely cerebral achievements in any way deplorable. He has developed the kind of theory that he and many others support in a consistent manner, and he has, in many ways, clarified Plato's teachings. He makes strong arguments against materialism, and his understanding of the relationship between the soul and the body is more coherent than Aristotle's or Plato's. It is quite amazing that he shares with Spinoza a certain type of moral purity and loftiness. He always tells the reader what he thinks is vital in the simplest way possible and is honest, never strident or censorious. It is difficult not to adore him as a guy, regardless of one's opinion of him as a theoretical philosopher. The only source of information about Plotinus's life is the biography penned by his friend and student Porphyry, a Semite whose true name was Malchus. Nonetheless, this story contains miraculous elements that make it difficult to fully rely on its more credible parts. Plotinus was reluctant to discuss the coincidences of his historical life since he saw no significance in his spatiotemporal manifestation. Though he claimed to have been born in Egypt, it is known that he studied in Alexandria when he was younger. Ammonius Saccas, who is frequently credited with founding neoplatonism, was his teacher there, and he lived there until he was thirty-nine years old. Later, he reportedly joined Emperor Gordian III's expedition against the Persians in order to learn about Eastern religions. While still a young man, the Emperor was assassinated by the army in accordance with the custom of the day. This happened in the year AD during his campaign in Mesopotamia. 244. Following this, Plotinus gave up on his plans for the East and relocated to Rome, where he quickly started teaching. Numerous powerful persons were among his hearers, and the Emperor Gallienus was one among his favorites. At one point, he developed the idea of establishing Plato's Republic in Campania and constructing Platonopolis, a new city. The Emperor was initially in favor of it but later revoked his consent. It would seem odd that there would be space for a new city so close to Rome, but the area was most likely already malarial at that point rather than having been earlier. Before the age of forty-nine, he wrote very little; after that, he wrote a lot. Porphyry, who was more Pythagorean than Plotinus, edited and organized his works, which led the Neoplatonist school toward a more supernaturalist stance than it would have if it had adhered to Plotinus more closely. Plotinus holds Plato in the highest regard; he frequently refers to Plato as "He." The "blessed ancients" are generally shown veneration, although the atomists are not included in this regard. Both the Epicureans and the Stoics, who are still in practice today, are controversial: the Epicureans for their entire philosophical system, while the Stoics primarily for their materialism. Due to frequent unreported borrowings, Artistotle looks to have a greater role than he actually does. There are several moments when Parmenides' influence is felt. Plotinus's version of Plato is not as authentic as the original Plato. The theory of ideas, the mystical theories of the Phaedo and of Book VI of the Republic, and the discussion of love in the Symposium, make up nearly the whole of Plato as he appears in the Enneads (as the writings of Plotinus are known). Plotinus completely lacks the political motivations, the pursuit of individual virtue definitions, the enjoyment of mathematics, the dramatic and loving admiration of people, and most importantly, the humor of Plato. Plotinus, on the other hand, is always acting appropriately, while Plato is, as Carlyle put it, "very much at his ease in Zion." The metaphysics of Plotinus begins with a Holy Trinity: The One, Spirit and Soul. These three are not equal, like the Persons of the Christian Trinity; the One is dominant, Spirit comes second, and Soul last. A The One is rather murky. It is sometimes termed God, sometimes the Good; it surpasses Being, which is the first sequent upon the One. We must not assign predicates to it, but merely state “It is.” (This is reminiscent of Parmenides.) It would be an error to talk of God as “the All,” for God transcends the All. God is present in all things. The One can be present without any coming: “while it is nowhere, nowhere is it not.” Although the One is sometimes talked of as the Good, we are also taught that it precedes both the Good and the Beautiful. † Sometimes, the One looks to resemble Aristotle’s God; we are taught that God has no need of his derivatives, and ignores the created universe. The One is indefinable, and in reference to it there is more truth in silence than in any words whatever. We now come to the Second Person, whom Plotinus names nous. It is usually difficult to find an English term that convey nous. The typical dictionary translation is “mind,” however this does not have the right implications, particularly when the word is employed in a religious perspective. We would be misrepresenting Plotinus if we said that he valued the intellect over the soul. Plotinus's translator, McKenna, use the term "intellectualprinciple," although this is confusing and does not imply a thing that should be revered in a religious context. The word "spirit," used by Dean Inge, may be the greatest one available. However, it omits the intellectual component that was crucial to every Greek religious philosophy that emerged following Pythagoras. For Pythagoras, Plato, and Plotinus, mathematics, the realm of ideas, and all reasoning about the nonsensical have a divine quality; they represent the activity of nous, or as close to it as we can imagine, it. This philosophical aspect of Plato's religion caused Christians to associate Christ with the Logos, most notably the author of Saint John's Gospel. In this context, "reason" should be translated as logos; this keeps us from translating nous as "reason." I'll use "Spirit" in the same way as Dean Inge, but with the caveat that nous has an intellectual meaning that isn't present in "Spirit" in the traditional sense. However, I will frequently utilize the untranslated term nous. We are informed that nous is the One's image, created as a result of the One's vision in self-discovery; this seeing is nous. This idea is challenging. According to Plotinus, a Being without parts is capable of knowing itself; in this instance, the seen and the seer are one. In the conception of God, which follows Plato's analogy of the sun, the source of light and the illuminated object are one and the same. Using the analogy, nous might be thought of as the light through which the One perceives themselves. We have the capacity to become aware of the Divine Mind, which we willfully neglect. Studying our own soul at its most godlike is the key to understanding the Divine Mind. We must set aside our physical bodies and the parts of our souls that shaped them in order to "sense with desires and impulses and every such futility," leaving behind a picture of the Divine Intellect. In the same way that it must be that we stand, those who are inspired and possessed by the divine at least know that they carry something greater within them, even though they are unable to identify it. They perceive this power—rather than themselves—from the movements that move them and the words that emanate from them. As a result, when we are "divinely possessed and inspired," we see not only nous but also the One. When we hold ourselves pure, we know the Divine Mind within, that which gives Being and everything else of that order. But we also know that other, know that it is none of these, but a nobler principle than anything we know as Being; fuller and greater; above reason, mind, and feeling; conferring these powers, not to be confounded with them. We cannot reason or put the vision into words while we are so in contact with the Divine; this comes later. "At the moment of contact, there is absolutely no ability to affirm anything; there is no time to reflect on the vision; that is for later. When the Soul suddenly becomes light, we may recognize that we have had the vision. This light is the proof of the advent; we may trust in the Presence when, like that other God, He responds to a particular man's request by providing light. This light is from the Supreme and is the Supreme. So, the Soul that isn't lighted doesn't have that vision; when it is lit, it has what it was looking for. And this is the real goal that the Soul has set for itself: to grasp that light, to perceive the Supreme through the Supreme and not through the light of any other principle; to perceive the Supreme, which is also the means to the vision; for the Soul sees by its own light, just as we see the Sun through its own light. However, how will this be done? Plotinus experienced "ecstasy"—a state in which one is outside of one's own body—many times. He described being lifted out of his body and into himself, becoming self-centered and external to everything else, seeing a marvellous beauty, and then feeling more certain than ever that he was in community with the highest order, acting out the noblest life, becoming identified with the divine, stationing himself within it after achieving that activity, and poised above everything in the intellectual realm that was inferior to the Supreme. However, there comes a moment of descent from intellection to reasoning, and after that sojourn in the divine, he asks himself how he can now be descending, and how did the Soul enter into his body, the Soul that even within the body is the high thing it This takes us to Soul, the lowest and third person in the Trinity. Even if soul is not as great as nous, soul created all living things, including the sun, moon, stars, and the entire visible universe. It is the Divine Intellect's progeny. It is twofold: one soul is internal and focused on ourselves, while the other confronts the outside world. The latter is connected to a downward motion where Nature and the senses are the picture created by the Soul. While Plotinus views Nature as the lowest realm, something that emanates from the Soul when it forgets to look upward towards nous, the Stoics had linked Nature with God. This may imply the Gnostic belief that all that is visible is wicked, but Plotinus rejects this idea. The physical world is lovely and home to angels; it is only inferior to the spiritual realm in terms of goodness. He acknowledges that certain aspects of Gnostic philosophy, such as the hate of matter, may have originated with Plato but maintains that the other aspects, which do not stem from Plato, are false in an extremely fascinating and contentious examination of the Gnostic view—that the world and its Creator are wicked. He has two main criticisms of Gnosticism. On the one hand, he asserts that the world of sense is as good as a sensible world can be and that the Soul does not create the material world because it is fallen, but rather because it remembers the divine. He has a deep feeling of the beauty of things as experienced by the senses: Who, if he has any musical bent at all, could fail to respond to the harmony in sensible sounds when they properly detect the harmony of the Intellectual Realm? How could any mathematician or geometrician not like the symmetry, correspondences, and orderly principles found in observable objects? Consider the example of pictures as well. People who view paintings through their senses do not always perceive the same thing in the same way. Rather, they are deeply moved when they recognize the idea presented in the objects that are painted, which prompts them to remember the truth— the very experience from which Love emerges. Now, if the sight of Beauty superbly reproduced upon a face propels the mind to that other Sphere, then no one could be so dull-witted, so immovable, as not to be carried by all this to recollection, and gripped by reverent awe in the thought of all this, so great, sprung from that greatness. After all, no one could see the loveliness lavish in the world of senses—this vast orderliness, the form which the stars even in their remoteness display. To not respond in this way could only mean that one has neither comprehended this world nor conceived of any other (II, 9, 16). Rejecting the Gnostic perspective has another justification. The Gnostics believe that the sun, moon, and stars are not divine entities, but were instead created by a malevolent spirit. Among apparent objects, the only thing with any goodness is the human soul. Plotinus, however, is unwaveringly certain that the celestial bodies are those of godlike creatures who are far superior to humans. "They declare their own soul, the soul of the least of mankind, to be deathless and divine," but "the stars within the heavens and the entire heavens have not had communion with the Immortal Principle, though these are far purer and lovelier than their own souls" (II, 9, 5). This is how the Gnostics view this. The Timaeus holds authority over Plotinus's viewpoint, which was embraced by a few Christian Fathers, including Origen. It reflects emotions that the celestial bodies naturally arouse, is aesthetically pleasing, and lessens man's sense of loneliness in the physical world. Plotinus' mysticism contains nothing depressing or antagonistic to beauty. However, this can be claimed of no other religious teacher for many centuries than him. Pagans and Christians alike began to exalt filth and ugly things, believing that beauty and all its delights belonged to the Devil. Like modern orthodox saints, Julian the Apostate took great pride in the amount of hair on his face. Plotinus had nothing to say about any of this. Matter has no independent reality; it is formed by the soul. Every soul has a certain hour, and when it does, it descends and enters the appropriate body. The motivation is more akin to sexual desire than rationality. If the soul has committed a sin, it must join another body when it departs from this one because justice demands that it be held accountable. In the future life, you will be a woman and will be killed by your son if you have killed your mother in this one (III, 2, 13). Punishment is inevitable for sin, but it comes from the sinner's own restless drive of their mistakes. After we die, do we recall this life? Though not what most contemporary theologians would say, the response is quite rational. Our greatest and real existence is in eternity, but memory is concerned with our life in time. Thus, friends, children, and wives will all eventually be lost as the soul progresses toward everlasting existence; in the end, we will know nothing of this world and will only be able to reflect on the intellectual plane. Personality, which in meditative perception is unconscious of itself, will not be remembered. The soul will merge with nous, but not to the point of self-destruction; rather, nous and the unique soul shall coexist as two distinct entities (IV, 4, 2). One chapter, the Seventh Tractate, of the Fourth Ennead, which focuses on the Soul, is devoted to the topic of immortality. The body is obviously not eternal since it is a compound; if it is a part of us, then we are not immortal in its whole. However, how does the soul relate to the body? Plotinus disputes Aristotle's (who is not specifically addressed) assertion that the soul is the form of the body, arguing that the intellectual act would be impossible if the soul were any kind of body. Although the oneness of the soul disproves the stoic theory that the soul is material. Furthermore, because matter is passive, it is incapable of creating itself. Without the existence of the soul, matter would vanish in a blinking of an eye. The soul is essence, and essence is everlasting; it is neither matter nor the appearance of a material body. This viewpoint is implied in Plato's claim that the soul is everlasting because thoughts are eternal, but it isn't made clear until Plotinus. How does the soul go from the remoteness of the intellectual realm into the body? The solution comes from hunger. However, hunger may be rather noble even if it might be ignoble at times. In other words, the soul considers the inward realm of essence and wishes to produce something as similar as possible that can be seen by looking without rather than looking within—like, perhaps, a composer who first imagines his music and then wishes to hear it performed by an orchestra. This is the best description of the soul's desire to "elaborate order on the model of what it has seen in the Intellectual-Principle (nous)" However, the soul's need to create leads to regrettable outcomes. The soul is not divided from other souls residing in the same universe as long as it remains in the pure realm of essence. However, once a soul joins a body, it is tasked with overseeing that which is underneath it, and this responsibility causes it to become distinct from other souls who own other bodies. With the exception of a select few men, the soul gets shackled to the body. "The truth is obscured by the body, but everything is distinct and clear" (IV, 9, 5). Similar to Plato, this theory finds it challenging to reject the idea that creation was an error. At its finest, the soul is happy with nous, the universe of essence; if it were perpetually perfect, it would not produce anything, but would simply ponder. The created world is a duplicate of the eternal world and as such contains the beauty that can be found in a copy, therefore it would appear that the act of creation should be justified on the grounds that it is, in its broadest sense, the best that can be rationally feasible. The Tractate on the Gnostics (II, 9, 8) has the clearest statement: To inquire as to why the Soul has created the Kosmos is to inquire as to why a Creator exists and why creation occurs. The question also suggests an everlasting beginning and depicts creation as the action of a changing Being that shifts from this to that. If they are willing to accept correction, those who have such views should be taught about the nature of the Supernals and encouraged to abandon their easy acceptance of the blasphemy of magnificent powers, where everyone should be treated with reverence and scruples. There is no justification for such an attack, even in the management of the Universe, since it provides unmistakable evidence of the superiority of the Intellectual Kind. This All that has come into being is not some vague structure, like those lesser forms within it that arise day by day from the abundance of its energy; rather, the Universe is a wellorganized, efficient, multifaceted, all-encompassing life that exhibits an incomprehensible wisdom. Therefore, how can one dispute that it is a distinct, exquisitely rendered representation of the Intellectual Divinities? It is undoubtedly a copy and not an original, yet it is inherently impossible for something to be both a symbol and a genuine thing. It would be inaccurate to claim that the copy is insufficient, given it has all the elements that a flawless reproduction of the actual order might have. Such a reproduction there must necessarily be—though not by deliberation and contrivance—for the Intellectual could not be the last of things, but must have a double Act, one within itself, and one outgoing; there must, then, be something later than the Divine; for only the thing with which all power ends fails to pass downwards something of itself. Perhaps the finest response to the Gnostics that Plotinus's ideas allow for is this one. To put it another way, Christian theologians inherited the dilemma and have likewise struggled to explain creation without leading to the heretical conclusion that the Creator was lacking anything prior to it. Indeed, their dilemma is greater than that of Plotinus, for he may declare that the nature of Mind rendered creation inevitable, but, for the Christian, the universe originated from the untrammelled exercise of God’s free will. Plotinus describes an abstract beauty that is extremely vividly. He suddenly breaks into a passage of rare eloquence, describing Intellect's position as intermediary between the One and Soul: The Supreme in its progress could never be borne forward upon some soulless vehicle nor even directly upon the Soul: it will be heralded by some ineffable beauty: before the Great King in his progress there comes first the minor train, then rank by rank the greater and more exalted, closer to the King the kinglier; next his own honoured company until, last among all these grandeurs, suddenly appears the Supreme Monarch himself, and everyone (unless, that is, for those who have satisfied themselves with the spectacle before his coming and gone away) prostrates themselves and hail him (V, 5, 3). The same sentiment is expressed in a Tractate on Intellectual Beauty (V, 8), which states that "all the gods are certainly august and beautiful in a beauty beyond our speech." And what qualifies them as such? Intellect, particularly the Intellect functioning within them (the celestial sun and stars) to become visible. There is a place where one can "live at ease." For these divine beings, truth serves as a mother and nurse, providing them with existence and sustenance. They perceive everything as genuine beings rather than processes, and everything is transparent. All entities are lucid to one another, both in depth and breadth, and light permeates all things. And all of them see all in each other and hold all within themselves, so that all is all and all is all everywhere, and the splendor is limitless. Every one of them is magnificent; the little is magnificent; the sun is all the stars there; and every star is all the stars and sun once more. Even if each has a dominant way of being, every one of them is reflected in every other. Apart from the inherent imperfections inherent in the universe due to its replication, Plotinus, like Christians, also believed in the additional positive evil that stems from sin. Plotinus maintains that sin is an outcome of free choice, which sets him apart from determinists and, more specifically, astrologers. While he does not go so far as to completely refute astrology's validity, he does try to place restrictions on it in order to make what is left consistent with free will. In terms of magic, he acts in a similar manner, asserting that the sage is immune to the magician's power. According to Porphyry, a rival philosopher attempted to cast evil charms on Plotinus, but the spells backfired on the competitor due to Plotinus' holiness and knowledge. Porphyry and every one of Plotinus's adherents are far more superstitious than he is. He has the least amount of superstition for that age. Now let us attempt to summarize the strengths and weaknesses of the theology presented by Plotinus, which was largely recognized by Christian theology as long as it remained logical and intellectual. First and foremost, there is the creation of what Plotinus saw as a safe haven for dreams and ideals—one that also required both intellectual and moral labor. Western civilization was on the verge of complete collapse during the third century and the centuries that followed the barbarian invasion. Fortunately, the system that was accepted preserved, though sometimes deeply buried, doctrines that embodied much of the work of Greek intellect and much of the moral devotion common to the Stoics and Neoplatonists. This was despite the fact that theology was almost the only surviving mental activity. This facilitated the development of scholastic philosophy and, subsequently, the Renaissance, which benefited from a revitalized interest in Plato and the other ancients. However, Plotinus' philosophy has the flaw of urging people to look within rather than without; when we look within, we see the divine nous, whereas when we gaze outside, we discover the flaws of the sensible world. This sort of subjectivity developed gradually; it may be found in the teachings of the Epicureans, Stoics, and Socrates, among others. For a long while, however, it was only ideological and not emotional; it was unable to quell scientific curiosity. We saw how Posidonius, in the year 100 B.C., traveled to the Atlantic coast of Africa and Spain in order to investigate the tides. But over time, subjectivism permeated both men's ideologies and attitudes. Only virtue was deemed significant, and science was no longer pursued. In Plato's conception, virtue encompassed all mental accomplishment at the time; nevertheless, over the course of subsequent centuries, it came to be understood as involving simply the virtuous will, and not a desire to comprehend the material world or enhance the world of human institutions. Christianity's ethical teachings were not without flaws, but in actuality, the conviction that it is crucial to share the Christian religion provided a realistic goal for moral behavior that went beyond self-improvement. Plotinus represents both a beginning and an end: a beginning in the eyes of Christendom, and an end in the eyes of the Greeks. In the eyes of the ancient world, worn down by centuries of failure and hopelessness, his philosophy could have been reasonable but uninspiring. What might seep into his teachings was helpful to the more primitive barbarian world, where extreme energy had to be controlled and repressed rather than aroused, since cruelty rather than languor was the evil that needed to be opposed. The task of preserving what remained of his thinking was carried out by the Christian thinkers of Rome's last era.