Per Caritatem

As is well-known, Plato in the Republic describes the Good Itself or the Idea of the Good as “beyond all being” (epekeina tés ousias; 509b).  Hans-Georg Gadamer, who has published widely on Plato, offers a reading of Plato that brings him much closer to Aristotle than is commonly presented in the literature.  For example, Gadamer argues that Plato’s Idea of the Good and Aristotle’s theos are different ways of talking about the same reality.  Wachterhauser unpacks Gadamer’s claim as follows,

When Plato refers to the Good as what is common in all things, he suggests that the Good is the principle of Being of all things, although it itself is not a being.  Similarly, Aristotle’s God, as the highest being, becomes the one principle uniting all beings as the one principle to which Being must be referred if we are ultimately to understand how all beings ‘move’ for the sake of a telos which is not synonymous with their mere existence.  Thus we can only speak of their being in light of this telos, which in turn can only be comprehended in light of the highest being, of the unmoved mover.  Thus all Being is spoken of analogously in that Being is predicated of things ‘to one end’ or what Aristotle called ‘pros hen’ predication.  All beings have this one being in common in that what they are can only be comprehended in analogy with the highest being.  The relative perfection of each thing is a matter of degree of approximation to the highest being (Beyond Being:  Gadamer’s Post-Platonic Hermeneutical Ontology, 89-90).

The common ground that Gadamer believes obtains between Plato and Aristotle allows him to “stress the importance of motion and change for comprehending reality” (Beyond Being, 90).  As Wachterhauser explains, Gadamer interprets Plato as presenting in mythical form what Aristotle articulated in his act/potency distinction in which things unfold teleologically over time.

Scotus’ solution to the question, “whether man in his present state needs to be supernaturally inspired with some knowledge he could not attain by the natural light of the intellect?”, is found in paragraphs 57-65.  In paragraph 57, Scotus states that he will distinguish “in what sense something may be called supernatural” and ipso facto in what sense something may not be called supernatural (Ord. prol., p. 1, q. 1, n. 57).  He begins by giving us two ways to consider how the receptive potency is acted upon.  First, we have the relationship of the receptive potency to the informing act.  Second, we have the relationship of the receptive potency to the causing agent.   Regarding the first, the relationship can be understood as natural, violent, or neutral (i.e. “neither natural nor violent”)-all of which depend upon whether the intellect is naturally inclined to receive the form.  By “naturally” inclined, Scotus means that structurally speaking the form is (by nature) positioned to perfect the potency.  In other words, natural inclination simply describes the fact that things are naturally ordered to being perfected-things by nature move from a stage of imperfection to a stage of perfection.  Thus, a natural relationship occurs when the form perfects the potency.  When no ordering to perfection, and one might say, a repugnance is involved rather than an inclination, a violence takes place.  “It is violent, if what it suffers is against its natural inclination” (Ord. prol., p. 1, q. 1, n. 57).  Lastly, when there is neither an inclination nor a repugnance involved, the relationship is said to be neutral and no violence occurs.  With regard to the relationship between the receptive potency and the informing, supernatural does not apply. 

The second major relationship discussed is between the receptive potency and the causing agent, and this is where we may speak of supernatural in contrast with natural.  If the agent moves the possible intellect naturally, then we have a natural cause.  If the agent cause moves the passive potency supernaturally, then we have, as one might expect, a supernatural cause. As Scotus says, “that knowledge is supernatural which is generated by some agent which by its very nature is not ordained to move the possible intellect in a natural manner” (Ord. prol., p. 1, q. 1, n. 60).  With this claim, Scotus seems to have a broader overall context in mind than was possible for Aristotle in light of the fact that Aristotle did not have access to supernatural revelation (Scripture).  That is, I take Scotus to be stating that there is an Agent that by its very nature, which is absolutely free, uncaused, etc., freely chooses to act on the possible intellect in such a way that transcends purely natural (and hence) necessary causality.  Yet, no violence is done to the natural potency, because, the supernatural activity perfects the intellect.  Here we have an instance of Scotus applying the dictum, “grace completes, but does not nature.” 

In paragraphs 61-65, Scotus lays out two ways in which an action or knowledge could be understood as supernatural.  Scotus agrees with Aristotle that in our present state the passive intellect is moved to knowledge by the agent intellect and the phantasm.  Hence, natural cognition comes about solely by these two agents.[1]  Scotus also adds, “[v]irtute autem istorum potest haberi omnis cognitio incomplexi quae secundum legem communem habetur a viatore” (“However, in virtue of these, cognition of every term or concept [incomplexi], which according to the common law [of nature] is possessed by the wayfarer, can be obtained”) (Ord. prol., p. 1, q. 1, n. 61).  Regarding what is meant by incomplexi and complexi, terms or concepts are incomplexi, and propositions are complexi.  Thus, propositions (complexi) are made up of terms and concepts (incomplexi).  In the propostion, “God is triune,” we have two concepts, namely, “God” and “triune.”  What Scotus seems to claim is that supernatural knowledge is not needed for the knowledge of terms or concepts, but it is needed for the knowledge of certain propositions.  One may in fact via natural reason come to understand (not fully comprehend) the terms “God” and “triune,” and yet be unable to grasp the truth of the proposition, “God is triune.”  Scotus does say that de potentia absoluta Dei, God could by way of special, supernatural revelation bring about knowledge of incomplexi which are capable of being known naturally; however, this kind of activity is unnecessary.[2]  Then in paragraph 62, Scotus sums up why certain propositions cannot be knowable by the natural light of reason alone.  As Scotus explains,

even when the agent intellect and sense image are fully active, many propositions we need to know remain unknown or neutral [multae complexiones remanebunt nobis ignotae et nobis neutrae quarum cognitio est nobis necessaria].  The knowledge of such propositions must be given to us in a supernatural manner, because no one could naturally discover them and teach them to others, for on natural grounds alone, if they are neutral to one, they are to all (Ord. prol., p. 1, q. 1, n. 62). 

The previously-mentioned proposition, “God is triune,” falls under those which are necessary for us, yet remain “unknown” and hence “neutral” to us by the light of natural reason alone.     Scientific knowledge, understood in the medieval sense of scientia or demonstrative knowledge, utilizes propositions whose terms, when properly understood, contain within them the warrant for our assent.  However, as we have seen, Scotus readily acknowledges that there are some propositions (e.g., “God is triune”) whose terms do not contain within them such warrant.  In other words, the knowledge of the intelligibility of these terms when conjoined in a proposition surpasses our (natural) ability to understand them.  These types of propositions can be known through either vision (e.g., the beatific vision) or faith.  Given that Scotus is concerned in this question with what can be known in this life, we may conclude that the only way that propositions such as “God is triune” can be known is through the supernatural gift of faith.  That is, God (non-violently) causes our assent to propositions of this sort.   

Then in paragraph 63, Scotus gives us a second way in which we might call an action or knowledge, supernatural.[3]  Here supernatural knowledge can occur if the agent (i.e., God) takes the place of [supplente vicem] the object, which in the case at hand is the divine essence.[4] “For that object which is able to cause such propositions as ‘God is triune’ and the like, is the divine essence known in its proper nature [sub propria ratione cognita].  Knowable in this way, it is a supernatural object”[5] (Ord. prol., p. 1, q. 1, n. 63).  If one were to have the divine essence in its proper nature made evident to her, then she would know God as triune, and it seems to follow that the proposition, “God is triune” would be self-evident.  However, in this life, as Scotus explains, though our passive intellect is able to receive the divine essence by nature (which is only part of the story), the object, the divine essence, is not known by us; yet, we are able to know that “God is triune” is true.  How is this possible?  Because, as noted above, the agent takes the place of the object and causes the assent.  For Scotus, in the natural order of things, the object and the agent intellect are both active co-causes.  Cognition is understood as a function of intellectual species abstracted from sense objects.  These intellectual objects are then impressed onto our passive intellect, and these objects serve to perfect the intellect.  Because this cognitive process does not univocally apply to God, as the divine essence is not given to us via the process of abstraction from sense objects, we cannot know in the typical natural way that “God is triune.”  Hence, if this proposition is to be known, it is known supernaturally through God who causes the assent.  Scotus’ final answer as to whether nature (the natural light of reason) is sufficient for the knowledge that we require in this life seems to be sic et non.  That is, with regard to the intellect’s receptivity, it is sufficient by nature to receive the divine essence; however, with respect to the agency required to complete or perfect the needed knowledge, Scotus is emphatic that nature alone apart from divine, supernatural intervention is radically insufficient. 

Notes

---

[1] “Pro statu autem isto, secundum Philosophum, intellectus possibilis natus est moveri ad cognitionem ab intellectu agente et phantasmate, igitur sola illa cognitio est ei naturalis quae ab istis agentibus imprimitur” (Ord. prol., p. 1, q. 1, n. 61). [2] “Deus possit per revelationem specialem cognitionem alicuius incomplexi causare . . . sicut in raptu, non tamen talis cognitio supernaturalis est necessaria de lege communi” (Ord. prol., p. 1, q. 1, n. 61).

[3] The first way was given in paragraph 61, when Scotus speaks of God’s ability to act de potentia absoluta via supernatural revelation to bring about knowledge of that which we can know by nature. 

[4] “Aliter etiam posset dici actio vel notitia supernaturalis quia est ab agente supplente vicem obiecti supernaturalis” (Ord. prol., p. 1, q. 1, n. 63). 

[5] “Nam obiectum natum causare notitiam huius ‘Deus est trinus’, et similium, est essentia divina sub propria ratione cognita; ipsa sub tali ratione cognoscibilis est obiectum supernaturale” (Ord. prol., p. 1, q. 1, n. 63). 

In the prologue of the Ordinatio, part one, question one, Scotus addresses the question, “whether man in his present state needs to be supernaturally inspired with some knowledge he could not attain by the natural light of the intellect?” In other words, what Scotus seeks to understand is whether in our present, non-glorified, viator state, we are in need of supernatural revelation or divine illumination or whether the knowledge of which we are capable by means of natural reason is sufficient.  The prologue begins with a set of initial arguments pro and con [n.1-4], to which, after significant elaboration and development of various related themes, Scotus then gives his own responses [n. 90-94].  The major premise of the first argument reads, “[e]very faculty which has something common as its primary object, is as competent by nature in regard to everything contained under this object as it is with regard to what is of itself the natural object.”  Scotus first appeals to our faculty of sight, which has as its primary object color under which all particular colors fall (e.g., blue, purple, green etc.).  Then in the minor premise Scotus turns to the faculty of reason and states that it too has a common primary object equal to its power, viz., being qua being.  Ergo, we, by virtue of our faculty of reason, are able to know naturally any thing or being that exists.[1] In paragraphs 90-92, Scotus addresses the first argument given in paragraph 1.  First, Scotus distinguishes two ways in which the term “natural” may be used.  As he explains, [1] “a natural object can mean one which the faculty can attain naturally, i.e., by the action of causes that are naturally active, or [2] it may mean an object towards which the faculty is naturally inclined, whether such an object can be naturally attained or not” (Ord. prol., p. 1, q. 1, n. 90).  In the first sense, natural/nature is contrasted with supernatural, whereas in the second sense, natural/nature is contrasted with that which is violent. Here we should keep in mind that according to Scotus’ framework, we have a receptive potency, which is related to an active potency and to a form or object received.  The active potency is responsible for infusing the form into the receptive potency. In those cases in which the receptive potency is inclined toward the form and the form perfects it, we have a natural act.  However, in those cases in which the receptive potency is repugnant toward the form/object, we have a violent act. 

In paragraphs 91-92, Scotus accepts the major premise of the initial argument in paragraph 1, but then applies his dual understanding of nature to the minor premise.  As Scotus explains, “the minor is false in regard to the object naturally attainable, but it is true in the other sense (namely, the object to which the power is naturally ordered or inclined”) (Ord. prol., p. 1, q. 1, n. 92).   In other words, the intellect may be naturally inclined to an object/form and able to receive it; however, this does not mean that the intellect is capable of attaining that object/form by its own (natural) power (i.e., apart from supernatural intervention).

Here Scotus opposes Aristotle and many of his medieval predecessors, as he claims that a power can by nature be inclined toward an object and yet be unable to achieve its perfection by nature alone.  As Scotus puts it, “[i]t is not unfitting that a power should be naturally ordered to an object which it cannot attain naturally by natural causes, any more than it is for a power or faculty to be ordained by its very nature [for an act] and nevertheless be unable to produce this act by itself alone” (Ord. prol., p. 1, q. 1, n. 92).   As we shall see, Scotus claims that our receptive potency by nature is even capable of receiving the divine essence; however, he is quick to state that we lack by nature what is required to bring this about.  In other words, the intervention of an extrinsic agent is necessary for a perfection of this sort to occur.

Notes

---

[1] Scotus also adds “and consequently also any intelligible nonentity, for ‘affirmation explains denial’” (Ord. prol., p. 1, q. 1, n. 1). 

As Hannah Arendt brings to our attention, the concept of the will has a history, and its history was decisively shaped by Christian theologians and philosophers.[1]  As Arendt so aptly puts it, “[f]reedom becomes a problem, and the Will as an independent autonomous faculty is discovered, only when men begin to doubt the coincidence of the Thou-shalt and the I-can, when the question arises:  Are things that concern me only within my power?”[2]  The Greeks of course spoke a great deal about natures, desire, and with Aristotle, we see the emergence of the faculty of choice (proairesis).  However, the idea of a distinct faculty of the will as a source of its own movement is decisively absent in ancient thought. Such a suggestion in fact would have been considered contradictory, for it challenges a deeply held Greek assumption, viz., that which is moved is moved by another.  In this paper, I discuss Scotus’ understanding of will (in contradistinction to a nature) as a distinct, active power, which entails his concept of the will as self-determined.   The discussion of the will as self-determined logically leads to another unique contribution of Scotus’, viz., his notion of superabundant sufficiency, which I shall likewise engage albeit briefly.    In order to gain clarity as to Scotus’ view of the will as an active power, let us turn to Scotus’ discussion of the will as a rational faculty, as found in Questions on the Metaphysics IX, q. 15.[3]  Because the first two objections raise what seem to me the most crucial questions, I have chosen to focus solely on them.  Following my discussion of these objections,  I engage Scotus’ own opinion. As was mentioned in the opening paragraph, for a Greek philosopher such as Aristotle, self-motion was considered incoherent, as it violated the generally accepted principle that everything that is moved is moved by another.  Scotus, however, against the majority view both classical and medieval, argued that the will is self-moving.  Scotus opens his discussion in Questions on the Metaphysics IX, q. 15, by asking, “[i]s the difference Aristotle assigns between rational and irrational potencies appropriate, namely, that the former are capable of contrary effects but the latter produce but one effect?”[4]  In typical fashion, Scotus replies with two answers: (1) Aristotle’s answer fails and (2) Aristotle’s schema is correct.  After these opening replies, we find two articles, which address respectively: how Aristotle’s distinction is to be understood, and what is the rationale for Aristotle’s distinction.  Scotus then lays out three objections to Aristotle’s view, gives his own opinion, and then tests his own opinion by offering two possible objections followed by two corresponding replies.  The final section closes with Scotus’ replies to the initial arguments. 

The first objection (Scotus’ objection) leveled against Aristotle’s view with regard to rational potencies producing contrary effects is as follows:  if a potency is capable of producing contrary effects, then it should be able to produce simultaneously contrary effects.   Having already elucidated his own understanding of the distinction between nature and will and having argued for the will as a self-determining, active potency,[5] Scotus says the following:

As for the initial argument at the beginning, it is clear that a rational potency, such as the will is said to be, does not have to perform opposites simultaneously, but can determine itself to either alternative, which is something the intellect cannot do.[6]

In other words, Scotus claims that the will because of its self-determining ability not only falls in line with Aristotle’s criteria for what it is to be a rational power, but it also surpasses Aristotle’s demands, and hence, is more rational than the active power of the intellect.  In order to make this move, Scotus introduces what is now commonly referred to as synchronic contingency, which involves a distinctive understanding of possibility.  In part II, I offer a brief sketch of Scotus’ innovative notion.

Notes

---

[1] For a detailed discussion of the history of the concept of the will, see H. Arendt, The Life of the Mind [Vol. II:  Willing]:  One-Volume Edition. (San Diego:  Harcourt Brace & Co., 1978), pp. 55-146. [2] Ibid., p. 63. [3] All citations from Scotus’ text are from Wolter’s translation as found in Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, ed., William A. Frank.  (Washington, D.C.:  Catholic Univ. of America Press, 1997).  [4] Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, p. 136. 

[5] I shall discuss in more detail Scotus’ understanding of the will as an active potency in a subsequent section. 

[6] Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, p. 148. 

Joel at sacra doctrina has a nice (not to mention funny) post on rational animality that interacts with the Denys Turner series that I posted not long ago.  While you’re visiting his blog, check out his post on all souls–provocative, thoughtful, and as always irenic. 

As the result of an extremely helpful (and on-going) dialogue with a friend and colleague concerning my post, “The Superiority of a Christocentric View of Women Over Aristotle’s Claims,” I have made a number of changes, corrections, and additions to my original post and plan to post the revised version in the near future.  In this post, however, I wanted to briefly attempt to substantiate some of my earlier claims regarding what seems to me as Aristotle’s deficient view of women, i.e., insofar as this topic arises in the Nicomachean Ethics,[1] which is the most recent work of Aristotle that I have read.  Additionally, the Ethics deals specifically with the topic of friendship which is the focus of the upcoming conference at Baylor.  

In the Ethics, Aristotle describes what we might call a virtuous or character friendship between unequals.  For example, Aristotle says,

But there is a different form of friendship that goes along with superiority, as of a father for a son, or generally of an older person for a younger, as well as of a husband for a wife or of any ruler for the one who is ruled.  And these also differ one from another, since the friendship of parents for children is not the same as that of rulers for those who are ruled, nor that of a father for a son as that of a son for a father, nor that of a husband for a wife as that of a wife for a husband.  For a different virtue and a different work belongs to each of these, and the things on account of which they love are also different too.  And so, the same things do not come to each person from the other, nor should they look for the same things; [...] And in all the friendships that go along with superiority, the affection also ought to become proportional, that is, the better one, or the one conferring a greater benefit, ought to be loved more than he loves, and similarly in each of the other cases.  For whenever the affection comes to be in accord with what is deserved, there comes to be a certain kind of equality, which seems to belong to friendship” (1158b13-28, p. 152; emphasis added). 

In all of the pairs that Aristotle lists, a common thread seems to be that one partner is morally (and perhaps even assumed to be intellectually) superior to the other. Moreover, the superior or assumed superior of the pairings appears to have some kind of authority over the lesser or assumed lesser partner.  From a Christian perspective, I readily see how one could interpret this authority over another in a Christocentric way such that one person’s authority over the other does not necessitate that s/he be morally or intellectually superior, but it is unclear to me how that would be possible on Aristotle’s view (which is not to say that such an interpretation doesn’t exist).  For example, appealling to a relatively clear case, in Aristotle’s day would a slave (one who is ruled) generally be treated by the ruler as an equal either morally or intellectually?  In this ruler/ruled relationship, which Aristotle later compares to a tyranny, the slave is considered an “ensouled tool.”  Yet, the slave who obeys the law and hence exercises justice still qualifies as a human being and thus there is according to Aristotle some slim semblance of friendship possible toward him (1161a31-1161b11, pp. 157-158).  In my opinion, to call such a relationship a “friendship” is a bit of stretch. 

Other passages that seem to substantiate my view are the following.  At 1160b, Aristotle begins discussing the different kinds of governments/constitutions and their deviations/corruptions.  Then he compares these to relations found in households. At 1160b32-39, he says the following: 

The relationship of the husband to a wife seems aristocratic, since the man rules as a result of worthiness, and over those things which a man ought to rule;[2] as many things as are suited to a woman, he turns over to her.  If the husband is in charge of everything, he changes the relationship into an oligarchy, since he does it contrary to worthiness, and not insofar as he is better suited.  Sometimes wives rule, when they are heiresses, but their rule does not come from virtue, but from wealth and power, just as in oligarchies” (pp. 156-157).

As Aristotle makes clear earlier, the movement from aristocracy to an oligarchy is not a move forward.  “The change from aristocracy is into oligarchy by vice in the rulers, who distribute the things that belong to the city contrary to what is deserved, and all or most of its goods to themselves, and the ruling offices always to the same people, making being rich count for most; so few people rule, and bad ones instead of the most decent” (1160a10-16, p. 156).     Moreover, Aristotle seems to be saying that the reason that the husband should rule his wife is that he is more worthy, which I take to be an affirmation of the husband’s moral superiority.  If perchance a situation occurs in which a wife happens to be ruling, this is compared to the degraded state of an oligarchy because the woman’s rule is not due to her worthiness or virtue but because of her family line and monetary status.  Again, this seems to suggest that a female in comparison to a male is found lacking simply because she is a female and thus there are certain activities for which she is not suited. 

Comments and constructive criticism are welcome. 

Notes

---

[1] All passages cited from the Nicomachean Ethics refer to translation by Joe Sachs (Newportbury:  Focus Publishing, 2002). [2] One would have to ask what this means in Aristotle’s day.