Do Not Change Yourself
For Spinoza, the problem is not simply that self-discipline is hard. The problem is that the picture of a separate “you” standing outside yourself and reshaping yourself is, in an important sense, confused.
Spinoza thinks everything follows from necessity. Human thoughts, emotions, desires, habits, fears, and decisions are part of nature just as weather or gravity are. If you become angry, that anger did not emerge from nowhere. It followed from causes. Your body, history, memory, present environment, previous experiences, biology, social conditioning, and immediate circumstances all converged into that reaction. In this sense, there is no independent commander inside the system who freely says “I shall now redesign myself.”
This is why he is suspicious of moral projects built on inner warfare. When people say “I must discipline myself,” Spinoza often sees a hidden fantasy. One part of the organism declares war on another part as if there were a tiny sovereign inside the mind who could simply impose order. But for him, the so-called disciplining force is itself just another expression of causes. The wish to improve yourself also arises necessarily and is conditioned.
That does not mean passivity. This is where people often misunderstand him. Spinoza is not saying “do nothing” or “never change.” He is saying that change does not happen through moral condemnation or heroic willpower. Change happens through understanding causes. If you understand why you react, the reaction itself begins to reorganize. Knowledge changes the system from inside.
Imagine someone with chronic anxiety. A moral framework says “control yourself, stop worrying.” Spinoza would say this usually fails because the fear already has built up a lot of power. Telling yourself not to feel it is just one more weak idea colliding with stronger ones. But if you understand the mechanism of the fear, see the triggers, the bodily states, the associations, the anticipatory loops, then you can start to change your relationship with anxiety. By introducing new ideas and insights into your mind, you can shift how your body and mind respond to fear. Spinoza often values understanding more than strict discipline because he believes that people tend to overrate their ability to control situations while underestimating the importance of cause and effect.
Even virtue in Spinoza is strange compared to ordinary morality. Virtue is not self-punishment or restraint for its own sake. Virtue is increasing one’s power to act, becoming less governed by blind emotions and more by adequate understanding. But even this transition happens necessarily. You do not stand outside nature and choose wisdom like selecting a setting in a menu. Wisdom happens when the conditions for it arise. There is truth when Spinoza says we should not modify ourselves if by modification we mean a little inner dictator forcing the organism into shape. He distrusts self-coercion, guilt, and ascetic struggle. Yet he still thinks transformation occurs. It simply occurs through clearer perception of causes rather than command.
Paradoxically, in Spinoza, the less you try to dominate yourself, the more change becomes possible. Not because surrender is magical, but because fighting a process often blinds you to the process itself. The irony is sharp. The person who says “I will become different through force” often repeats the same pattern. The person who understands why they are as they are may already be changing before they notice it. As Spinoza might imply, freedom does not arrive by escaping necessity, but by seeing necessity clearly enough that illusion loses some of its grip.
