Central to Huntington’s argument is his representation of diverse peoples as collectively constituting largely homogenous civilisations. He identifies seven or eight civilisations that he terms the “broadest level of cultural identity people have”.[1] Central and western Europe, North America and Australia are collectively “The West”. In opposition, Huntington arrays Confucian, Islamic, Latin American, Japanese, Hindu, Slavic-Orthodox and possibly an African civilisation. Contrary to academic belief in the hybrid, heterogeneous nature of cultures, Huntington paints these amalgams as monolithic competitors for global power. Huntington poses that cultural difference is more intrinsic to human beings than political association. Furthermore he argues that cultural identity is more fundamental to human beings than race and ideology. Therefore conflict is more likely between civilisations than within them.

In essence, Huntington’s prediction of a clash of civilisations is a realism-inspired paradigm where the primary actors are unified blocks of states whose quest for security and dominance is centred on the promotion of their competing cultures. Traditional realist theory posits that individual states promote their own interests without any sense of community. Mutual absolute gains are considered inconsequential under an anarchic international system; economic and military power alone is the guarantor of a state’s (or in Huntington’s adaption, a civilisation’s) survival. In the section of his essay where he advocates cultural promotion by Western governments, Huntington seems to support liberal intervention, but devoid of the ‘responsibility to protect’ motive. Instead, Huntington implicitly assumes that Western culture is superior to its rivals. This theme pervades his article and is employed to define other non-Western civilisations. They are understood simply by how they differ from “The West”.

Huntington’s language is that of a nationalist. He perceives his nation to be the abstract notion of “The West” and assumes its superiority. He goes on to reach the logical conclusion of his nationalist assumptions by advocating Western governments intervene to promote the decline of rival cultural values, where possible. The confrontational stance adopted by Huntington seeks to justify an apparently imperialistic promotion of “Western civilisation”. Referencing threatening adjustments in relative power, Huntington does not advocate the promotion of peaceful and mutual development among all nations. Western governments are encouraged to “exploit differences and conflicts among Confucian and Islamic states; to support in other civilisations groups sympathetic to Western values and interests”.[2] Instead of a new paradigm, Huntington’s thesis perpetuates Cold War-style conflict; his definition of civilisational divisions bears striking resemblance to the first, second and third “worlds” that characterised Cold War understanding.

Huntington’s envisioned clash of civilisations is centred on the belief that the civilisations he identifies are homogenous and that the peoples within a civilisation have little, if any, common culture with the peoples in other civilisations. A specific realism-inspired theory is applied to this condition. States are important actors but are inclined to operate in unison as constituent members of their civilisations. Huntington does not believe conflict will occur as readily and frequently within civilisations as between them. The author perceives his thesis from a partisan viewpoint, defining non-Western civilisations by their difference from and opposition to Western civilisation. Finally, the essay promotes an interest within Western governments to assert, through military and economic means and through international organisations, the primacy of Western cultural values.

End Notes

[1] HUNTINGTON, S. P. 1993. The Clash of Civilizations? Foreign Affairs, 72, 22-49. Page 24.

[2] Ibid. Page 49.

[This review was submitted in April 2010]

The rules regulating international relations fall into three major categories. Firstly, legislation of large international organisations (United Nations [UN], European Union [EU]), secondly, multilateral (as distinguished from bilateral) treaties and, finally, norms, or “customary law.” (Reus-Smit 2008, 283-4) Societies form for the protection of each participant from the insecurity of anarchy. (Hobbes [1651] 1985, 204-5) This liberal explanation of human society can be applied to international affairs. Under conditions of anarchy, individuals (states) trade some freedom for greater security under law. However, unlike individuals’ relations within states, international relations are not licensed and arbitrated by a greater authority, Thomas Hobbes’ “leviathan.” A community of states adopt laws which limit aggression and domestic interference. The mutual security derived from these agreements provides incentive for states to observe them. (Bull 2002, 13, 18) Norms develop in a subtler, more gradual way than the laws created by treaties and organisations. Often norms are taken for granted and the states that recognise these laws may impose them upon a non-consenting minority. For example, a state’s right to self defence was not codified until the League of Nations was formed but this right was already accepted by custom. The numbers of states for and against is the contemporary method of determining a law’s existence. Organisations like the UN officialise this system.

In previous eras states followed different norms to those in place today. If the relative power of states were as important as realist theories suggest, meaning that international laws and norms are negligible, then those types of interactions that have previously been the norm should still be observed. That this is not the case is demonstrable. The conqueror’s right to rule the conquered is not accepted as it once was, and as a consequence states are prevented from territorial aggrandisement by the opinion of their fellow states. Contemporary international law asserts the right of nations to self determination. Although influential, the word of a stronger nation is no longer considered binding upon weaker nations. Instead, binding international rules and norms are established by multilateral opinion. (Reus-Smit 2008, 288-89) The changing composition of international law suggests that it is effective at representing changing ideas which can overrule realist objectives.

Precisely what constitutes international law in addition to the questions of how and when enforcement is justified are constantly subject to debate. The ideal that multilateralism constitutes authority grew from nineteenth century liberalism in Europe and is now the dominant determinant of international law. Multilateralism is practiced when a number of states agree to cooperate for the purpose of creating “reciprocally binding rules of conduct.” (Reus-Smit 2008, 285) Customary law, or norms, are inter-state practices so widely accepted as to bear the force of law. An example is the law of the sea. (Reus-Smit 2008, 283) It is a fact of history that the laws and norms regulating inter-state relations have changed considerably over the centuries and continue to do so. An important change in the early twentieth century occurred when it became generally accepted that the consent of states to a law is the basis of the law’s legitimacy. (Reus-Smit 2008, 285) Before this development international law was believed to be founded upon absolute standards of divine origin.[2] Contemporary international law suffers from a problem of legitimacy stemming from this change in ideology. The debate concerns the right of the majority to impose its law upon a non-consenting state.

When international trade law is institutionalised the relations between states are profoundly affected. Consistent law is prerequisite to a secure environment conducive to trade. Individual companies lose their incentive to trade when contracts are not honoured. International law facilitates the exchange of goods, services and ideas. In its absence, (that is, under total anarchy) countries are more likely to resort to war as a means to secure resources. (Bull 2002, 5-6) This belief led the USA and Great Britain to assert in the Atlantic Charter of 1941 that all countries should have access through trade to the materials they needed to develop. (Principle 4) This principle is still recognised today. Internationally consistent law is necessary for the development of interconnected economies, the like of which exist throughout the world.

In the absence of a leviathan states do not behave as if there were no laws binding them. Because the nature of international laws and norms is to evolve to match changing attitudes, interpreting them can be difficult. The lack of an effective international tribunal to resolve disputes further supports the claim that international law is impotent. The consensus among nations has manifestly failed to prevent states and coalitions of states from behaving in certain ways, but it has also served to prevent some violations and tempered others. The 2003 invasion of Iraq by a coalition defied the international law created by the Charter of the UN. The charter requires that all wars not fought in self defence must be authorised by the UN Security Council. (Taylor and Curtis 2008, 323) The states involved went to elaborate lengths to justify the invasion, using norms and treaties that they considered superior to the law established by the UN. (Taylor and Curtis 2008, 327) On the occasion that a rule or norm is broken, the offending party attempts to justify its actions, usually by alleging the broken law is overruled by a superior law. The importance of international law to international relations is manifested by the concern shown by states to at least appear to be following it.

An international norm which is increasingly accepted justifies breaching a non-consenting state’s sovereignty on humanitarian grounds, it is an uncomfortable reality for realists that a great deal of public interest and political debate exists over the allegedly unimportant issue of legality. (Bellamy and Wheeler 2008, 524-26) Realist ideology holds that the issue central to inter-state affairs is the relative strength and weakness of states economically and militarily, and their varying wealth in resources and land. (Mearsheimer 2001, 30-31) A problematic example for this theory is that of Britain in the lead up to the Iraq war. Prime Minister Tony Blair and his government were faced with the challenge of justifying a war to an unconvinced electorate and they made use of international law to do so. Domestic and international opponents to the war also justified their stance by appealing to international law. Although, given that there is no supranational arbiter of such disputes, no party has been vindicated, it is fair to say that proponents of, and adherents to both positions considered that international law was the highest authority to appeal to and that the legality of the conflict was a central concern. (Sands 2005, 1-2) This case and others are indicative of a recent extension to international law, an extension that deals with justice among and within states and not merely order. (Reus-Smit 2008, 287) Humanitarian grounds for intervention in a state’s domestic affairs are not universally accepted, but it has been an increasingly prevalent norm of international relations over the past two decades.

International law has been agreed upon by states with the intention of protecting themselves from the insecurity of anarchy. Contrary to realist ideology, states agree to behavioural codes and reciprocal treaties in the pursuit of more secure and regulated interactions. Organisations, treaties and custom are all responsible for the present body of law that inhibits unilateral state behaviour and regulates international affairs. For the benefit of all states, similar or identical trade rules are broadly accepted. International rules have a significant effect upon the international relations of states.

Works Cited

The Atlantic Charter. 1941.

Bellamy, Alex J, and Nicholas J. Wheeler. “Humanitarian Intervention in World Politics.” Chap. 30 in The Globalization of World Politics, edited by Steve Smith, John Baylis and Patricia Owens, 522-39. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008.

Bull, Hedley. Anarchical Society: A Study of Order in World Politics. Columbia University Press, 2002.

Burnside, Julian. Watching Brief: Reflections on Human Rights, Law, and Justice. Carlton North: Scribe Publications, 2007.

Chomsky, Noam. Rogue States: The Rule of Force in World Affairs. London: Pluto Press, 2000.

Hamilton-Hart, M. “Internationalisation: What Scholars Make of It.” Australian National University. 1999. http://rspas.anu.edu.au/ir/pubs/work_papers/99-5.pdf (accessed October 2009).

Hobbes, Thomas. Leviathan. Camberwell: Penguin Books, [1651] 1985.

Machiavelli, Niccolo. The Prince. Translated by George Bull. Camberwell: Penguin Books, [1532] 2003.

The Fog of War. Directed by Errol Morris. Performed by Robert S. McNamara. 2003.

Mearsheimer, John. “Anarchy and the Struggle for Power.” Chap. 2 in The Tragedy of Great Power Politics, 29-54. New York, 2001.

Reus-Smit, Christian. “International Law.” Chap. 16 in The Globalization of World Politics, edited by John Baylis, Steve Smith and Patricia Owens, 278-94. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008.

Sands, Philippe. Lawless World: America and the Making and Breaking of Global Rules. Camberwell: Penguin Group (Australia), 2005.

Taylor, Paul, and Devon Curtis. “The United Nations.” Chap. 18 in The Globalization of World Politics, 312-28. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008.

Van Creveld, Martin. Nuclear Proliferation and the Future of Conflict. New York: The Free Press, 1993.

[2] (Van Creveld 1993, 6) (Hobbes [1651] 1985, 332-34)

[This essay was submitted in October 2009.]

Hypothesis: Pompey and the Senate did not force Caesar to war. Julius Caesar’s personal ambition drove him to contend with the Senate for the rule of Rome.

The ambition of Gaius Julius Caesar[1] is evident in the actions he took to promote his career before the civil war, irrespective of Senatorial opposition. It is evident that this war was the final instrument he used to become tyrant of Rome. By making use of an alliance with the powerful and wealthy figures of Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus[2] and Marcus Licinius Crassus[3], Caesar gained himself the provincial command necessary to pursue his personal glory. Under suspicion of electoral misconduct Caesar refused to stand trial, going to great lengths to ensure that he retained immunity from prosecution. When the governorship granting him immunity was almost over, Caesar claimed that he would receive an unfair trial. With the wealth gained from his brutal conquest of Gaul, and with the loyalty of his veteran legions, In 49 Caesar was finally prepared to further advance his career by war.[4] If he had accepted the compromise offered by the Senate and submitted to trial his career would not have suffered for more than a few years. Despite his own claims, Caesar’s decision to oppose his benefactor Pompey and disobey the decree of the Senate was calculated to begin a civil war, the only means by which he could gain the supreme power he desired.

The political alliance between Crassus, Caesar and Pompey enormously affected the political landscape of Rome. It was not an ideological coalition but an alliance purposed to advance its members’ political interests.[5] Pompey sought the political security he had not enjoyed since his return from the Mithridatic War in 61. Since then the aristocracy had regarded his pre-eminence with fear and mistrust.[6] Caesar desired closer association with the great general Pompey and needed the support of a wealthy benefactor such as Crassus. (Marshall 1999, 77) Lastly Crassus’ business interests stood to benefit from the stability engendered by the alliance. (Gruen 1969, 77-8) Mistrust between the members of the “triumvirate” persisted, especially between Crassus and Pompey who were never friendly.[7] Despite this the three triumvirs enjoyed great success. Caesar became consul in 59 with the others’ support and oversaw legislation in the interest of his allies.[8] (Wiseman 1994, 368-72) The first-time consul secured favourable provincial postings.[9] Pompey was given Spain and Caesar Illyricum and Gaul;[10] both appointments were made for the abnormally long period of five years. At the end of Caesar’s year in office Pompey remained in Rome, commissioned by the Senate to ease a grain crisis;[11] he governed Spain through subordinates. The triumvirate was established to pursue mutual interest, but the initiative to create it was Caesar’s and the ambitious youngest member stood to gain the most.

As Caesar campaigned in Gaul, Crassus remained out of the public eye and Pompey bore the brunt of opposition that rallied against the triumvirate. The alliance never achieved supreme power over the state, nor did any of the three members show clear signs of an inclination to gain supreme power in the five years following Caesar’s consulship. Instead, the triumvirs fought a cyclical political battle that saw them more powerful than their opponents in some months and years, less powerful in others. The provinces Caesar chose to govern were threatened by war; the aspiring patrician recognised an opportunity. In Gaul, Caesar took the calculated decision to record[12] his victorious exploits to be read aloud to the adoring people in Rome. At the end of the campaigning season (year) Caesar moved into Cisalpine Gaul, just north of the Po River and he lavished riches upon all the great men who went north to meet him. In 56 the triumvirs faced the likely prospect of a fall from grace. The great orator Marcus Tullius Cicero[13] publicly attacked Caesar at this time, targeting his persistent resistance to stand trial for allegations regarding his election as pontifex maximus in 63. The apparent intent behind Cicero’s assault was to break apart the triumvirate by separating Pompey from Caesar. In fact, the triumvirs had already ceased cooperating on important issues and Cicero’s attack may have provided the incentive for the three to work together as they had done four years earlier during Caesar’s consulship.

The reconciliation of Pompey and Crassus enabled the triumvirate to work effectively for the benefit of all three members. Meeting separately with Crassus and Pompey at Ravenna and Luca, respectively, the conqueror of Gaul convinced the two to accept his proposed course of action. Pompey and Caesar were to stand as candidates for the consulships of 55. Their elections would be secured with the assistance of Caesar’s “off season” troops present in Rome and each of the triumvirs were to receive a five year governorship to begin in 54.[14] Overcoming their rivals, Pompey and Crassus were appointed as consuls and with that influence began to enact their agenda. Caesar received a five year extension to rule his existing provinces. Pompey received Spain by lot and Crassus Syria. At the expiry of their consulships Pompey remained in Rome; he was the only member of the alliance not eager to expand his personal military prestige and wealth. Crassus received a five year proconsular command in the province of Syria which bordered Parthia. He left for the East intending to equal his fellow triumvirs’ extraordinary victories. In the tradition of Roman generals, he probably harboured dreams of imitating Alexander the Great.[15] The collaboration during the year 55 marked the zenith of the triumvirate, soon Crassus was dead[16] and Caesar estranged from Pompey.

Caesar claimed that Pompey desired to force a war between the two of them, that Pompey alone was the warmonger.[17] This is dubious. If we accept Caesar’s claim, Pompey was jealous of the younger man’s growing prestige and feeling his own status as the most influential man in Rome threatened decided to eliminate his rival through war. Allegedly, this led Pompey to manoeuvre for the elimination of his rival. Examining more closely the positions of the parties directly before the crossing of the Rubicon suggests otherwise. The senate decreed that Caesar be replaced and cease prosecuting his war in Gaul.[18] At the time this was decreed Caesar had a single legion with him and most likely two more in Cisalpine Gaul, a province located in modern northern Italy. It was bordered to the north by the Alps and to the south by the Rubicon River. In the weeks prior to the beginning of hostilities the relative strength of the Julian to the Senatorial camp was adjusting itself in favour of the Senate because of the new levies being conducted throughout Italy. (Ehrhardt 1995, 36-40)[19] It was therefore advantageous to Julius Caesar to engage in armed conflict sooner rather than later, if armed conflict were to eventuate at all. The great strategist Pompey would not have pressed for immediate war, even if he did desire to fight Caesar at some point, because by waiting the relative strength of his position would only become more favourable. Caesar’s retrospective in his Bella Gallica account should not be taken at face value.

Considering actions post eventum it is evident that Caesar was manoeuvring himself into a position of greater power. It is important to note that the opposite would have been apparent to his contemporaries. Crossing the Rubicon with his army would not appear to be a sound strategy, even after Pompey was abandoned Italy, he could have set up a naval blockade of the peninsula and returned with overwhelming force to destroy Caesar. Most would have considered it foolish. He could have complied with the Senate ruling by relinquishing his command to his appointed replacement. Returning to Rome he would have been a private citizen once more. Even while on campaign in Gaul Caesar had used his army to politically support his allies in elections. Returning left Caesar open to prosecution, and he claimed that he would not receive a fair trial.[20] There are precedents of previous public figures who either were not convicted despite their guilt, or were treated leniently; Caesar exaggerated his danger. In the words of C. Ehrhardt (1995: 33):

Caesar had little to fear from returning to Rome as a private citizen.

Caesar considered it unfair of the Senate to rescind his right to stand for re-election in absentia, but claims to have stopped short of using his army to threaten the Senate into a compromise for his personal gain.[22] In demanding that the Senate send Pompey to his province before Caesar relinquished his own command, Caesar displayed a disregard for the authority of the Senate. The rogue general conquering northern Italy with his army was asking for mutual disarmament (Caes. BC 1.9.10):

The Senate and Pompey refused. The language implies that the Senate and people of Rome needed the restoration of their authority, something that the Senators consulting Caesar’s proposal would have taken offence at. Satisfied with the outcome of the diplomatic talks, Caesar continued to capture more Italian towns and cities, each new acquisition swelling the ranks of his army. The Senate’s failure to compromise provided the pretext for civil war, through which Caesar could realise his tyrannical ambitions. At this point Pompey was apparently in a much stronger position, he felt comfortable enough to leave Italy with the intention of amassing a large enough force to destroy Caesar. In Spain Pompey had seven loyal legions and there were many more in the East.

Julius Caesar’s actions better match an ambitious, selfish personality than they do a republican dedicated to the institutions of the Republic. Whereas he could have presented himself for trial, Caesar chose to subject the Roman people to yet another civil war for the sake of his own career. The man who would be dictator moved at the optimal time, when the relative strength of his force to that of Pompey and the Senate was only going to change to favour his enemies. His apparent preparation for the confrontation by wintering more legions in Cisalpine Gaul than expected suggests that he held a sinister intent to gain absolute power, and held it before his position was apparently irreconcilable with that of the Senate; he could not be dissuaded by Senatorial compromise. The flight from Rome of the tribunes loyal to him was either the final, orchestrated move before an attack on the state, or an unforseen but fortunate occurrence that Caesar exploited. Contradicting his own account of his intentions, Gaius Julius Caesar was an implacable foe of Pompey and the Senate; his march on Rome and his subsequent campaigns in Spain and Greece were the product of a carefully planned campaign designed to make him tyrant.

Bibliography

Ancient Sources

Appian (trans. J. Carter). 1996. The Civil Wars, Penguin Books: Camberwell.

Caesar (trans. J. F. Gardner). 1967. The Civil War, Penguin Books: Camberwell.

Cassius Dio. Roman History, in Ancient Rome: From the Early Republic to the Assassination of Julius Caesar, Routledge: Abingdon.

Ovid. Fasti, in Ancient Rome: From the Early Republic to the Assassination of Julius Caesar, Routledge: Abingdon.

Plutarch. 1916. Life of Crassus, Loeb Classical Library.

Plutarch. Life of Julius Caesar, in Ancient Rome: From the Early Republic to the Assassination of Julius Caesar, Routledge: Abingdon.

Sallust. The Jugurthine War, The Conspiracy of Catiline. Translated by S. A. Handford. Camberwell: Penguin Books, 1963.

Velleius Paterculus. Compendium of History, in Ancient Rome: From the Early Republic to the Assassination of Julius Caesar, Routledge: Abingdon.

Modern Works

Badian, E. Christian Meier: Caesar. Book Review, Berlin: Severin and Siedler, 1982.

Boatwright, Mary T., Daniel J. Gargola, and Richard J. A. Talbert. The Romans: From Village to Empire. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004.

Dillon, Matthew, and Lynda Garland. Ancient Rome: From the Early Republic to the Assassination of Julius Caesar. New York: Routledge, 2005.

Ehrhardt, C. T. H. R. “Crossing the Rubicon.” Antichthon 29 (1995): 30-41.

Gruen, M. “Pompey, The Roman Aristocracy and the Conference of Luca.” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte 18, no. 1 (January 1969): 71-108.

Hayne, L. “Caesar and Pompey.” Ancient History: Resources for Teachers 24, no. 1 (1994): 31-37.

Marshall, Bruce. “Caesar’s Early Career: The Emphasis on his Marian Connections and the Decision to turn popularis.” Ancient History 29, no. 1 (1999): 68-79.

Wiseman, T. P. “Caesar, Pompey and Rome.” Cambridge Ancient History 9, no. 2 (1994): 368-423.

Wylie, G. “The Road to Pharsalus.” Latomus, 1992: 557-65.

[2] “Pompey” (106-48).

[3] “Crassus” (115-53).

[4] Nota bene: the dates given in this essay are all BC, excepting references to modern academic works.

[5] Velleius Paterculus Compendium of History 2.44.1-3

[6] Dio 37.49.1-50.6

[7] Plut. Crass. 7.1-4, 14.1-3

[8] Dio 38.7.5

[9] Plut. Caes. 14.1-13

[10] Roman controlled Gaul was divided into the provinces of Cisalpine Gaul in modern northern Italy, and Transalpine Gaul on the northern side of the Alps. From 58 to 49 Caesar governed both of these provinces in addition to Illyricum.

[11] Plut. Pompey 49.6-7

[12] The Commentarii de Bello Gallico (Commentaries on the Gallic War)

[13] “Cicero” (106-43).

[14] App. BC 2.17

[15] Plut. Crass. 16.1-3

[16] Ovid Fasti 6.463-8

[17] Caes. BC 1.4

[18] Dio 40.44.1

[19] Cf. Wylie 1992

[20] App. BC 2.25

[21] Aulus Gabinius committed the offence of violating a prophetic warning. He was subsequently tried for high treason.

[22] Caes. BG 8.53.1-2

[23] Penguin Classics 1967, translated by J. F. Gardner.

[This essay was submitted in October 2009]

Portrait of René Descartes by Frans Hals

René Descartes (1596-1650) was a French philosopher and mathematician who was disturbed at a young age by the absence in Philosophy of undisputable truths and of a method by which to arrive at them. Cartesian Scepticism (or systematic doubt) is a process of uncovering indisputable truth. This method requires that all beliefs that can conceivably be doubted be considered ‘patently false’[1]; to this end, Descartes made use of three arguments to test his beliefs, namely the Dreaming Argument, the Madman Argument and the Evil Genius Argument. He found himself in a state of distress after eliminating not only the empirical knowledge that he knew by experience to be unreliable but also his cherished mathematical knowledge of pure reason because, Descartes reasons, it is conceivable that an evil genius – as cunning as he is wicked – has put all his energies into deceiving Descartes. In his second meditation, Descartes develops an argument that a thinker can use the Cogito Method to know beyond doubt his own existence. In addition, Descartes attempted to justify both rationally derived knowledge and empirical knowledge through use of the Ontological Argument.

By employing this process of systematic doubt, Descartes gave himself a formidable task. Those truths that passed this examination he considered to be foundational truths. The first of these indisputable truths is commonly referred to as the Cogito, and the second is known as the Ontological Argument. The former is an argument claiming that the doubting of one’s own existence constitutes absolute proof of it. The latter proves the existence of a perfect God and uses this to justify empirical knowledge by making the point that a perfectly good God would not allow for a man to be deceived all the time, but would provide him with the necessary faculties to assess the validity of his perceptions. The arguments of deception (evil genius) and lunacy (madman) do not challenge the Cogito because both require the existence of the subject.

The other argument that Descartes proposes is called the Ontological Argument. By which he justified reliance on both a priori (before experience, purely rational) and a posteriori (empirical, perception based) knowledge. In this argument he takes two premises, firstly that existing is the perfection of the property of existence, and secondly that the definition of God is a supremely perfect being (moral, mental, existence et cetera). Following from these two premises, the defined God must necessarily exist. To say otherwise is as illogical as claiming that a triangle has two sides because it is saying God (as defined in the second premise) lacks existence. This argument is not as sound as the Cogito because it must suppose that its own reasoning, simple as it is, is not susceptible to the trickery of the evil genius while it is being thought. Although Descartes did take this position when challenged, it does not stand up to his own challenge of putting such a process beyond all conceivable doubt because it is readily conceivable that one is deceived during the process of reasoning. It follows logically from the premises but the Ontological Argument is not sound by the standards of Cartesian Scepticism. Therefore, Descartes is erroneous to consider the Ontological Argument the foundational truth upon which a belief in the existence of material objects and the reliability of empirical knowledge can be indisputably based.

It has been argued that the Cogito is just as susceptible to the Evil Genius Argument as the Ontological Argument is, but those who argue this have failed to properly examine Descartes’ case. The Latin phrase often associated with the argument is ‘cogito ergo sum’ (I think, therefore I am) and this has led to some confusion. Due to the use of ‘therefore’ many have taken it to be a logical process of reasoning, and have gone on to claim that it does not counter Descartes’ own Evil Genius Argument. Descartes regretted this misconception and so in his Meditations on First Philosophy he rephrased the argument as ‘I am, I exist’ to prevent confusion. The point behind this terminology is to suggest a self evident (id est foundational) truth rather than one derived by logic. The thinker is assured beyond conceivable doubt of his own existence while considering if he exists.

By making use of the Cogito, Descartes proposes that when it is thinking, a mind is aware of itself. If there is an evil genius fooling it about what it is thinking, it must still exist to be deceived. This is a sound argument. Unlike the Ontological Argument, the Cogito does not rely upon the process of reason that the method of systematic doubt must preclude. At first it may appear that the Cogito claims that as a man thinks he can draw the logical (but evil genius susceptible) conclusion that he exists, but this is not what the Cogito stands upon. Instead, the Cogito is proved by the act of thinking itself; by describing it as a reasonable conclusion of thinking, we merely expand the process in order to explain it better. The Cogito is necessarily true every time it is conceived of. Therefore Descartes did solve the problem of his own scepticism because he proved to himself his own existence.

[1] Descartes, [1641] 1993: p. 13

Works Cited

Descartes, R. ([1641] 1993). Meditations on First Philosophy (3 ed.). (D. A. Cress, Trans.) Cambridge: Hackett.