THE THOMIST
A SPECULATIVE QUARTERLY REVIEW
OF THEOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY

THE DoMINICAN FATHERS OF THE PRoviNCE oF ST. JosEPH

EDIToRs:

Publishers: The Thomist Press, Washington 17, D. C.

VoL. XIII

JULY, 1950

No.3

THE DIALECTICS OF WAR AND PEACE

I

N the course of a discussion relative to the Geneva Protocol
of 192:4, M. Briand defended this instrument of peace,
in these words: " The Protocol runs up against difficulties
mainly because o1 the fact that it speaks a good deal of war ....
Perhaps! But peace, to my eyes, is, in practice, nothing but
the absence of war .... After all, an institution turned toward
peace, if it wishes absolutely to maintain peace, is obliged to
preoccupy itself with aU the ways and means that may be
the most proper to prevent war." At first sight it seems
that common sense and practical wisdom were flowing from
the lips of the French Minister: war and peace are in opposition
to one another as two contraries; they exclude one another
like night and day; to prevent the birth of war is to make
peace perpetual. At least, there is temptation to believe. that
this is so. If we reflect on the conditions of international
life and seek the why of war and peace, it seems then that
305

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J. T. DELOS

these represent less the terms of an alternative--either war or
peace-than they do two events of international life bound
one to another by the bonds of a dialectic proper to them.
How define war, without assigning peace as its raison d' etre;
and how stabilize peace without giving it force as the ultimate
guarantee of its duration? War is an interval in a policy of
peace; that is why military command is subordinated to the
civil power; the military staff commands on the battlefield,
but those who govern conduct the war. However, peace in
its. turn, is assured only if the state supports it by accepting
the eventuality of war. Without going to the point of: Si
vis pacem para bellum, it seems evident that the peace of
states, and the states themselves, die in the face of the nonacceptance of the idea of war, for this idea is the ultimate
guarantee of the maintenance of a just peace, and it is, under
a defective peace, the supreme hope of peoples aspiring toward
justice.
This is the dialectic by which the mind goes from peace
to war and from war to peace, as a ball is batted back and
forth
two rackets. It is a dialectic which runs all
through history, leaving in its wake battles, havoc and heroisms.
It explains the perpetual new beginnings, and it undoubtedly
excuses men for never having been able to renounce war, which
they damned, or for not having had full confidence in peace,
which they recognized as the condition of happiness. It is
this dialectic which we propose to study, facing it, by preference, from the viewpoint of juridical sociology. Is this
dialectic the immutable result of the necessities of political
life, or is it the reflection of a historical social state which
has imposed it for a time, and which, with it,
transform
itself to the point of disappearing? If the latter be true, what
is the true nature of this peace toward which the international
community tends today?

will

THE DIALECTICS
I.

OF WAR AND PEACE

807

THE DIALECTICS OF WAR AND PEACE IN THE FRAMEWORK OF
CLASSICAL INTERNATIONAL

LAW

In this study we shall confine ourselves to modern times.
In fact, it is in modern times that the state appears in the
form in which we know it today, and it is in modem times
that the heritage of International Law which we have received
is constituted.
Of course, the period which preceded the
Middle Ages also had its concept of war and peace. An
interesting doctrine of the right of war was elaborated beginning
in the fifth century, under the impetus of theologians and
canonists, and if it did not always exercise an efficacious influence on the conduct of Princes, it nevertheless so profoundly
penetrated the conscience of peoples; that today they still
generally require that a war be just, and they try indefatigably
to submit this calamity, at once voluntary and abhorred, to
reason and morality. Bu:t, however important may be the
spiritual legacy of this period, it has not left us any clear and
unchangeable definition of war. Such a definition does not
even seem to have been sought. This lacuna, strange at
first sight, explains itself if one considers the manner in which
the problem was stated at the time.
War can be viewed in two ways: either in an objective
manner, which is the manner of philosophy of history and of
sociology (war is then a human fact, an international phenomenon of which one observes the nature and the import) or from
a subjective point of view (we enter then into: the soul of
those who wage war-State, Prince, or Soldier)'. War provokes
to homicide and to the destruction of the goods of others;
can it be other than a mistake? This is the question which
the authors of the Middle Ages asked themselves, long before
Saint Thomas and even after Suarez. Moralists all, they
asked themselves under what conditions one may wage war
without sin, and they did not seek to know, as philosophers
and as sociologists, what war is. Has modem International
Law been more preoccupied with defining war?
In this period the theologians no longer have the say. In

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J. T. DELOS

the sixteenth century, they were the announcers of the new
science, but they were quickly expelled from it, and it was
not necessary that an angry angel forbid them re-entrance
in the lost domain, for after Suarez they made no serious effort
to re-enter. 1 Natural Law now replaces theology. As the
dictate of right reason (Dictamen rectae rationis), it reflects
the laws inscribed by God in the nature of things and of men.
This nature shows us that there is a universal human society
which embraces all civilized peoples under rules of law. Hugo
Grotius and the School of Natural Law are the promoters of
this conception; it persists, with a few variations, in Puffendorf,
in Wolff, in Burlamaqui, and in Vattel. But inside this society,
each state is sovereign. This constitutes a second idea, one
no less fundamental than that of the Civitas Maxima, and one
which the new International Law will develop abundantly.
With Grotius, the sovereignity of the state has not yet
taken on the absolute sense which his successors will give it.
But very rapidly the doctrine models itself on the aspirations
of states to independence, and it imitates the selfish policy of
the Princes. In the interior, sovereignty is conceived as the
right to decide in the last resort, and to impose on individuals
and on intermediary bodies a will superior to theirs-that of
the Prince, or that of the state. On the exterior, it is the
attribute of an authority which recognizes no superior, and
which, from this fact, enjoys in international life a freedom
of. decision which is unlimited as long as it does not impose
limits upon itself through accords made with other powers.
The state is, therefore, its own proper end in the international
order.
It is in Vattel that we shall find the already perfect expression
1 UndotJbtedly because of the weakness of political thought during the modern
period, since Vitoria there have been no original thinkers among theologians or,
at least, .none who surpassed in ability Jean Bodin or Grotius, or even Wolff,
Burlamaqui, and Vattel, and who knew at the same time how to interpret better
tpan these authors the needs of modern states. This failure is all the more
regrettable because International Law was destined to remain faithful to Natural
Law for a long time, and because the community of the jus gentium was to be
made up solely of Christian

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OF WAR AND PEACE

309

of this sovereignty, which will become a dogma in the nineteenth century and which, favored by the individualism,
liberalism, and materialism of this period, will penetrate as
profoundly the mentality of peoples as that of jurists and
statesmen. For V attel as for his predecessors, the nations
form a society whose immutable laws are founded on the nature
of things ana on the nature of man. But if the first of these
laws prescribes that each nation contribute with all its power to
the happiness and the perfection of all the others, the second
desires that each be left " in the peaceful enjoyment of the
liberty it holds from nature." " It is for each nation to 'judge
what its conscience demands of it, of what it can or can not
do, of what it should or should not do, and consequently to
examine and to decide if it can render some office to another
without failing in what it owes to itself," 2 he writes, in formulating a Golden Rule of the doctrine of sovereignty. If each
state is subject to the jus gentium, this consecrates and protects
the natural liberty of the state and the autonomy which makes
it judge of its own cause, responsible to its own conscience
alone. "AU the tranquillity, the happiness, the safety of
the human race rests on justice, on the obligation of respecting
the rights of others," writes V attel, but justice is the respect for
rights which flow from sovereignity, and one can not even
say that the range of the rights of each is limited by the equal
liberty of another, for, in the concrete, each state, sovereign
judge of its own rights, is, by that very fact, sovereign judge
of the limits of the rights of others. The only obligations
binding upon it are those in which it has voluntarily engaged
itself by treaty with other sovereign states. 3
Thus, the modern state is aware that it forms with its equals
2 Le Droit des Gems ou Principes de la Loi Naturelle, appliques a la conduite
et aux affaires des Nations et des Souverains, M. de Vattel, Londres, 1758, pp. 8-9.
3 From this flows the importance
that the faith due treaties takes on in the
theories of International Law. " This firm and sincere desire, this faithfulness in
fulfilling the obligations which one has taken on in a treaty is ... holy and sacred
between the nations, whose salvation and rest it assures, and if peoples are to be
true to themselves, those who breach their trust must be branded as infamous,"
says Vattel, op. cit,, p. 434.

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J. T. DELOS

a society regulated by International Law, but this society
does not have as its legal foundation a solidarity which would
unite the states by subordinating them to a good superior to
each and profitable to all. It has for its foundation a " state
of nature " which confers on each of them the liberty and the
autonomy which sums up the word sovereignty. No organic
bond exists between the states, but solely a moral bond, a
reciprocal obligation of justice, of which the fidelity due to
treaties and the respect of mutual independence are the principal elements. What dialectic of peace and war results from
such a conception of international life?
Since Grotius recorded the rules of International Law for
his time in De jure belli et pacis, peace-time relations and
war-time relations seem to offer this science its normal division.
Peace and war alternate; the situation of persons, the application of treaties, the conditions of the domain can all be
studied successively under the two regimes-peace and warthose two states which share equally the juridical life of peoples.
The notion of peace is simple and well-known, and needs. no
definition; it is the normal situation of states. A state is at
peace when it is not at war with anyone, and when it is not
troubled in its tranquillity, that is, in its enjoyment of its
sovereign rights by the violence which another would exercise
against it.
It is from this point of view of the state that we consider
peace, and not from the point of view of an international
society. We mean by this that peace does not appear as a
condition of the international community-the tranquillity of a
social order-but as an individual condition, and the nontroubled possession of subjective rights. Like the messenger
of ancient Rome, the sovereign state always cloaks peace and
war under the folds of its mantle; they belong to her, and they
depend on her. Of course, peace is also conditioned by external
factors; from the outside come the dangers which menace
peace, or the guarantees which protect it. But the menaces
imperil the duration of peace, and the guarantees give it
security; the menaces do not constitute war, nor do the guar-

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OF WAR AND PEACE

311

antees constitute peace. H there existed an international
community which constituted a body, of which the several
states were the organic parts, peace would result from the
organisation of this society and would confound itself with
the functioning of its institutions; but this society does not
exist. The states are sovereign, and the law which regulates
their contacts has for its essential end the assurance to each of
the enjoyment of its liberty. Peace is the tranquillity of an
order where sovereign rights are not subject to any restraint
or compulsion. It is simple, in this sense that it does not have
the complexity of an organic social order; it manifests in the
factual order the sovereignty which the political doctrine
attributes to the state.
The divisibility of peace is the first consequence of such
a conception, by opposition to the indivisibility which the
evidence of facts imposes upon us today, and which the League
of Nations already recognized. For as long as it does not
carry arms against anyone, a state is at peace, without having
to worry whether the world surrounding it is at peace or at
war. The belligerent state is at war with its adversary, but
it remains at peace with all the others; nothing illustrates
better than this the partitioning and the fragmentation to
which leads the sovereignty of the state. There are
wars and as many peaces as there are states deciding for the
one or the other.
The theory of neutrality, whose development begins in the
eighteenth century, and which takes on so much importance in
the nineteenth century, consecrates this divisibility of peace.
It is its fruit. War, in which two states are engaged, concerns
but those two states; the other powers are not formally affected
by their decision, if their personal interest does not induce
them to intervene in the conflict. Their "neutrality rights"
are the foundation for their pretension of reducing to a minimum the inconveniences to them resulting from the war of
others, all the while making maximum utilization of the
favorable opportunities which it offers to their peaceful
commerce.

J. T. DELOS

J'his peace is an armed peace. The indivisibility of peace
entails the disarmament of individual states; its divisibility
demands their armament, for this is the condition of their
security. If peace is a condition of international society, if
it is the tranquillity of the order reigning in its bosom, the
security of each results from the functioning of the societal
organization. If peace is a condition proper to each sovereign
state, it is entrusted to its own vigilance, and its security
reposes in itself. The state draws from its own strength the
assurance of not being injured, or of being re-established in
its rights if these have suffered any attainder. The state relies
upon its arms potential to maintain itself at peace.
If the notion of peace seems simple, that of war holds greater
difficulties for jurists. As a matter of fact, in the system of
modem International Law, these difficulties have brought the
jurists to an impasse, and in attempting to escape it they fell
into contradiction. It is good that war is viewed in relation
to the international juridicial order. On the one hand, the
jus in bello is an important part of International Law. On the
other hand, one can not deny that war creates new juridical
situations in the heart of the society of states; it confers rights
upon them, it delimits their respective spheres, it fixes their
frontiers, it resolves their disputes. But, to do all this, it has
recourse to force, which is a pure fact. Neither force nor fact
belong to the juridical order; this order is ratio.nal, and it hegins
with an ideal conception, for instance the idea of justice. In
war, force becomes the ultima ratio. But force is not a reason.
Therein lies the contradiction introduced in the very heart of
the system.
To escape this contradiction, some consider war as a simple
fact, hut a fact which has juridical consequences. It remains
outside of the juridical order, hut its consequences belong to
this order. Is this an issue that resolves itself in an impasse?
To admit that war engenders juridical situations, is to recognize
it as a valid means of creating rights. It is, therefore, not just
a simple fact, hut a means of creating rights, and it remains

THE DIALECTICS

OF WAR AND PEACE

818

to be understood just how a fact of greater force, an irrational
thing, can be admitted as a juridical means.
The objection will be raised that this case is not without
analogies and that it frequently happens that events which are
in themselves pure facts engender juridical situations; thus it
is, for example, in the birth or the death of
individual. But
it is easy to see that in this case, either the fact is but the
condition or occasion of a right or of its exigibility (it is not
the death of the de cuius which founds the right of the heir,
but the will of the deceased or the relative) or it is susceptible
of a juridical definition and it is under this formal aspect that
it takes its place in the juridical order. The old saw transmitted
through generations of laWyers (What is death, as viewed by
the Administration of Hospitals? A manner of legitimate
departure from the hospital) is but the caricature of a truth.
A fact, in its stark reality belongs to several different orders:
physical, psychological, juridical; it produces its effect in each
order on the condition of its belonging to it. If war determines
rights, as would the sentence of 3: judge, or if it is the foundation
of rights, as in the case of an annexation ratified by the peace
treaty, it is
in both cases international society accepts
the fact that war is a means of creating rights. It sees in war
an instrument of the juridical order; it is in this capacity that
it resolves disputes, changes legal relations, and legitimatizes
possession. In any case, those who believe that war can be
considered as a simple fact unanimously recognize that the
conduct of war is regulated by International Law, by the
jus in bello. If there is a legal way of conducting it, it must be
licit; there is no legal way of committing a wrong.
Also, does not the most constant doctrine raise the objection
that war draws its legality from the principle of state
sovereignty? All the authors are forced to admit it, explicitly
or implicitly, and the entire system of Classical International
Law bears testimony to it. The state having recourse to war
makes use of a right, and this right is an attribute of its
sovereignty. Ultimate warrantor of justice, but also sole
judge of its decisions in those affairs where its interests and

an

814

J. T. DELOS

its rights are involved, the state has the power of using force
every time that it shall judge it necessary and prudent to do so.
Regardless of the conditions regulating recourse to war, such
recourse is a right, the greatest of all rights, since it flows dirrectly from sovereignty, and since it is the supreme guarantee
of the respect of all. War, therefore, is well integrated in the
juridical order, inserted directly, one might say, in the keystone
of the edifice which is the sovereignty of the state. But the
juridical order pays dearly for this assertion. By recognizing
the right of war as an attribute of the sovereignty of the individual state, it admits that a recourse to force which is neither
decided upon or controlled by the international community,
and which is therefore arbitrary from the viewpoint of that
community, is nevertheless legal and legitimate in the eyes of
the individual state, since it is the exercise of a right and since
it creates of itself new situations of right. Therein lies the
contradiction of an asocial act, which is yet recognized as a
right, in itself and in its effects.
The first consequence of this doctrine will be to reduce to
a legitimate defense all wars which seem founded on right, and
few indeed are the peoples and the states capable of resisting
this temptation. How can the state, judge of its own cause,
not hold as just the ends of its political policy? How, if the
state has the absolute worth of a sovereign being, would it not
have as many rights as it has vital interests to defend? Moreover, it is never with a light heart that a state decides to have
recourse to war-so costly in men and money. If it does so,
it is because recourse to force seems necessary to surmount
obstacles which prevent it from exercising its rights, or pursuing
its essential interests. In its eyes, war will be but the just
reaction brought about by the hindrance unduly brought to
bear on a legitimate activity. The state will then be conscious
of defending itself while attacking. In the eighteenth century
Vattel was writing: " The enemy who unjustly attacks me,
without a doubt, gives me the right to repel his violence; and
whosoever opposes me with his arms when I am demanding

THE DIALECTICS

OF WAR AND PEACE

815

but what is due me, becomes the veritable oppressor by his
unjust resistance."
The moralists have favored this confusion by the manner
in which they state the problem of war. They have also placed
themselves, for tlie most part, in the position of viewing the
state as a moral person, and they have considered war as the
means of maintaining and enforcing a state's rights. This
subjective point of view is so similar to the one imposed by
the theory of the absolute sovereignty of the state that the
moralists, when adopting it, have re-enforced a doctrine whose
excesses they otherwise reject.
In fact this deformation was inevitable. If the moralists
have been able to fix with precision the limits of legitimate
individual defense within the framework of the state, it is
because, within this framework, the public power has assumed
the care of rendering justice and of protecting the lives and
the goods of individuals. The right of self-defense for the
individ.ual reappears only in the case of the accidental insufficiency or impotency of a society otherwise strongly organized.
But to admit that States are sovereign and that the right of
war is one of their subjective rights, is to deny the existence of
an international society, which would have a monopoly of the
defense of rights and of the use of force. It is committing to
the individual himself-to the sovereign state-the defense of
rights; it is putting one's self outside the conditions allowing
for a definition of legitimate defense. That this conception of
the right of war leads to an exaggerated confidence in the
efficacy of moral philosophy in preventing wars or in humanizing their course may seem paradoxical; yet, are we not even
closer to the truth in saying that the doctrine of the absolute
sovereignty of the state opened the door to Machiavellism
and to arbitrary state policies in general, while closing it to
moral philosophy?
It is clear that in arbitrarily separating politics and morals,
positivism enlarges . the domain of the former to the point
of expecting from it services which should have been rendered
by Public Law (le droit public) . Since sovereignty forbids

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J. T. DELOS

entrusting the maintenance of the peace to international
institutions, which could exercise coercion on the ·states, and
since the obligations of the jus in bello, destined to humanize
war, result, as all International Law, from conventions freely
accepted by the States, it is to their moral sense and their good
will that one will have to appeal if we are to have but just wars
on this earth, wars conducted according to the rules of
humanity. But the realization of this hope has no other
guarantee than the individual morality of the states; the conscience of the state is the sole rampart opposing itself to
inhuman wars, and this rampart is not strengthened by that
which international organization and its social sanctions could
add to it. The fate of humanity rests on the sense of justice
which the state will manifest. Thus, everything must be done
to make the state moral.
Morality will reign according to the degree in which the
state is, on the one hand, impregnated with the eff:l.uvia of a
humanistic and Christian civilization, and, on the other hand,
to the degree that its· liberty will not be inconvenienced by
these preachments. Do not these latter confirm the existence of
its sovereign rights by the fact that they try to moralize its
exercise? We must also not be surprized if the International
Law of this period seems to certain authors richer in moral
values than our own, which, as they would have it, has lost its
moral and philosophical foundation, has withered and become
petrified, and "has favored all the aberrations and all the
political crimes." 4 But the moral philosophy of the modern
period has taught the states an individual morality and not a
social morality, a morality founded on the mutual respect of
their rights and not on the rights of the international society
and the demands of the common good. It could not be otherwise in a system founded on the principle of the absolute
sovereignty of the state. Events have shown that little confidence is merited in a regime in which peace is protected
against war only by the virtue of the states, and where one
• N. Politis, La morale internationale, ed. La Baconniere, Neuchatel, 1943, P. Ill.

THE DIALECTICS

OF WAR AND PEACE

317

strives through individual morality to attain results that can
be obtained solely through the respect of social morality, and
where finally, between the sovereign states on the one hand,
and war and peace on the other hand, there does not
the solid reality of an organized international society.
It is this organization which began to make its appearance
with the creation of the League of Nations in 1919, and the
United Nations in 1945. These mark the end of an era and
begin the transition to another. But before leaving the heretofore closed cycle of the former, we must consider what war
has really been, independently of the deformed representations
which have been given it by the practice and the theories that
we have just recalled.
II.

TOWARD A DEFINITION

OF MODERN WAR

We have already called attention to the fact: the most
striking theorists of the classical period hardly mention the
international community in their definition of war. They
consider war as an armed conflict between two or more states
to settle a dispute which has arisen among them, or they
consider it as a group of acts by which a state or a people
enforce respect for their rights by bearing arms against another.
This strictly inter-state and inter-individual conception of war
is in harmony with the state of civilization which has given
birth to it. As Mr. Erich Hula would have it, the international
community considers itself " as a society of equal Nations
superiorem non recognoscentes," 5 a formula which, while it
gives exact expression to the thought of a period, nonetheless
has a strange ring. What can a society be whose members do
not recognize, de facto, the superiority of the social body and
of the law of the group, if not a contradiction in terms and a
phenomenon never before seen in history? Even in a world
where states have a thousand reasons to believe themselves
independent and sovereign, this conception has not been in
• Erich Hula, "The Revival of the Idea of Primitive War," in Thought, Sept.
1946, p. 409.

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J. T. DELOS

conformity with reality, and war has been everything but an
inter-individual conflict.
One need but observe the facts to become aware of this.
They show that every war involves a social will,S that is to
say that the belligerent pursues a social end, and that he aims
at affecting the status or the state of the international
community. To wage a purely defensive war is to seek to
maintain an international situation considered as already
existing and as having received the sanction of law, since it
has already served as a basis for the juridical relations between
states. For the state to seek the rectification of a frontier, the
opening of new outlets, or the recognition of its independence,
is for it to seek to create new situations that are recognized as
de jure by the community, and that, as such, can assume their
place in the international order. Conquering a province does
not entail occupying territory and maintaining one's self there
by force. Many lands are annexed which were not first occupied
by victorious armies; many lands are not annexed though the
victor has occupied them. To conquer is to force acceptance
of a new international juridical situation; it is to inscribe in a
treaty of peace or to have accepted by customary law a new
division of state jurisdictions. From Saint Augustine to the contemporary jurists, one hears: the purpose of war is peace. Perhaps Vitoria in the sixteenth century but sought to be more
precise in saying: the purpose of war is victory. One can unite
the part of truth contained in both aphorisms by saying that the
purpose of all war is to establish a statute of the international
community which defines in a certain manner the juridical
situations of the members of this community. Until this
result is obtained, victory is not attained, and peace is not
made. The purpose of the war is only realized at the moment
when the character of law is socially recognized in those
situations defended or created by the belligerent. That is truly
the formal object of its undertaking; it is in this sense that
the end of all war is societal and statutory.
• We refer the reader to our study: "La notion juridique de Ia guerre,"
Pkilosopkie, Cahier III, Ed. du Levrier, Ottawa (1945), pp. 149 ff.

THE DIALECTICS

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819

It may be objected that this is taking an accessory of war
for its essential element. The only thing which the belligerent
seeks, it is claimed, is to assure himself a personal advantage:
to extend himself, to enrich himself, to dominate. The rest he
cares very little for, except as a possible means, and he would
not trouble to inscribe his new possession in the international
statutory order were it not the condition of the peaceful
enjoyment of his conquest.
Undoubtedly, but it does not worry him. He is caught
in the network of ·social life and obeys its necessities. The
objection confuses the subjective motives of the belligerent and
war itself. The belligerent seeks his own interest and he sees in
war but a means to serve that interest; but he must for this
modify some international relations, relations of force and
relations of right, and this is what war does. No one, neither
the theologian, moralist, or statesman, neither individually nor
collectively, can think of war without reference to the right of
war, that is to say, without seeing in war a social and juridical
reality, and the use of war by peoples and states shows very
well that it is a prQcedure destined to inscribe a juridical
situation in a general international statute. The International Law of the classical period would say: " The
state has the right of war because it is sovereign"; but
a right, whatever be its foundation, is the power to
socially valid acts. The right of war is the
power to create situations of law in the international community
through the use of arms. Continuing: war is one of the
means-the ultimate means--of solving international conflicts.
But bringing about the solution of conflicts is a social function,
of which society acquits itself by the institution of procedures
and techniques, varying with the development of the society,
as is shown by the history of law.
We might even say that in an international society which
recognizes the right of war as an attribute of sovereignty, all
the blows exchanged between belligerents have an effect on the
entire community; they forge in some way a new order, while
they are bringing victory to the stronger or the more fortunate.
The neutrals accept the final result of the conflict through

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J. T. DELOS

their pledge of neutrality which binds them to practice abstention and impartiality toward the belligerents. Thus, the true
nature of war is not that of an inter-individual act, but of a
social_act, which can not be conceived or defined without an
appeal to the idea of an international social order. Even in
the anarchical society of the modern period, it is a " procedure,"
a group of ways and means admitted by society to fulfill a
function and to produce effects which, in its eyes, have the
sanction of Law.
What is this function? To what social need does this procedure correspond? This is a most important problem. It
is because they failed to resolve it that the moralists of the
sixteenth century, after having contributed to the birth of
International Law, remained without influence on its development and allowed it to orient itself toward state absolutism.
They emphasized only the legal function of war. When
Vitoria, for example, recapitulates the motives for a just war
and assigns as its end the defense of one's person and one's
goods, the recovery of something ravished, and the punishment
of an injustice, is it not to the legal function of society that he
attaches those of its causes which distinguish it from legitimate
defe:r;tse? Cajetan and Suarez develop an analogous idea:
" Whatever were their differences cqncerning the character of
this right, Vitoria and Suarez agreed on its content. Princes
have authority not only over their own. subjects, but also over
foreigners, so far as to prevent them from committing wrongs." 7
" On the basis of this authority they may commence against the
wrong-doing state an aggressive war in order to inflict punishment upon it. On this basis, too, they may, if implicated in a
defensive war, punish the aggressor once victory is won. The
wrong-doing state is subject to their criminal jurisdiction
ratione delicti." 8 The doctrine of the writers of the eighteenth
and nineteenth centuries on this point would be in perfect
accord with that of the authors of the sixteenth century. 9
7 Victoria, De India e.,t de Jure Belli Rdootiones, Classics of International
Law,
Carnegie Institution of'Washington, 1917, p. 17!'l, par. 19.
8 Eric Hula, op. cit., p. 4!'l7.
9 Cf. Robert Regout, La doctrine de la guerre juste de St. Augustin
nos joura
d'apres lea theologiena et lea canonistes catkoliquea, Padone, Paris, 1985, pp. 298-294.

a

THE DIALECTICS

OF WAR AND PEACE

321

For example the Jesuit Laymann writes: " In the absence of
a judge and superior justiciar, the state, or the prince, who
himself has, or whose subjects have, suffered any injury, draws
from natural law and from the jus gentium the competence
to judge and to punish crime." Then the Salmanticenses:
" aggressive war is a sentence of death which the assaulting
Prince pronounces against another Prince." Now, Billuart:
"Aggressive war is the supreme act of vindicative justice." 10
There are two reasons to explain the position adopted by
the moralists. On the one hand, the lack of profundity of their
sociological analysis on this point. The need of a judge is the
first need to manifest itself in an embryonic political society, 11
and the international society which was before them was in the
embryonic phase of its development. On the other hand, the
conception of the sovereignty of the state, which they had the
tendency to a,ccept along with everyone else of their time,
made them tend to absorb the function of war in the judicial
function. Since it is admitted that the sovereign state is
judge and party in its own proper cause, and that by itself it
measures the extent of its rights, it is clear that it decides to
go to war only after having judged its claims and after having
recognized them as just. Thus, the conviction spreads that
all conflicts which provoke a war could, at bottom, be settled
by a judge, and that all war is bound up with the exercise
of the judicial function.
This is, perhaps, the gravest of the errors common- to this
whole period in the matter of war and peace. Admittedly, it
is true that the striving toward justice has at times induced
peoples and leaders to unleash war, but it is an error to think
that in a society this striving can only be satisfied by a judge;
R. Regout, op. cit., p.
"Law is born of judicial law, litigation is its root," writes Cornelutti. However,
the author pushes truth to the point of paradox when he adds: ."(Of" the) four
pieces of the (political) machine one alone is truly essential: the judge. The
legislator and the administrator may be left out without compromising law. Even
the police function can be exercised by the judge. These three organs are certainly
useful, but not necessary: only the judge is necessary. . . . Even when the legislator is above him, the judge always remains the cell of the State." Francesco
Comelutti, La Guerre et la Paix, Rome, Azienda Libreria ltaliana, 1945, pp. 64, 60.
10

11

2

J. T. DELOS

the legislative and the police functions are also called into
play. Modem war is more often a legislative procedure and
an executive procedure than it is a judicial procedure. It is a
polyvalent procedure; not only does it make up for the absence
of a judge, but also for the absence of a legislator and of an
executive organ.
Thus, the peace treaty which puts an end to the war is
not a bilateral contract which determines on a commutative
basis the situation of the signatory States. It is a treaty-law
par excellence. To change the frontiers of a state is to institute
a new division of state territories valid for the entire community.
To impose economic or financial burdens on a state, to regulate
its armaments, to intervene in the rule of its minorities, is to
establish a judicial order which is an integral part of that of
the international community, and which refers itself at least
implicitly to some political principle generally recognized by
society: the principle of equilibrium, the right of self-determination, the right of conquest, the interdependence of peace
and of democratic institutions, international security, the
rights of the human person, etc .... Notably, the wars which
have been waged as civilization grew: the Thirty Years' War,
the wars of the French Revolution, that of 1914, and that of
1939, were followed by treaties which inaugurated a veritable
new constitutional order analogous to the one' instituted by
the constituents in the heart of the particular states. Likewise,
the revision of treaties is an international legislative work.
If clauses that have been inapplicable or unsatisfying provoke
war, the latter evidently fills in the absence of legislative
organs which could have peaceably corrected the lapsed treatylaw. Every time that war has as an end the making of law
rather than the pronouncing upon it, the modification of law
rather than the enforced application of it, it is the ultima ratio
of a legislative procedure. Due to the lack of qualified organs
to make law, social need manifests itself in a conflict which
brings to grips the states most directly interested, and the war
which will resolve the conflict is a procedure of legislative
substitution.

THE DIALECTICS

OF WAR AND PEACE

Other wars have the manifest character of a police task.
The international community maintains in its bosom a public
order which is as necessary to it as it is to the state, but unlike
the state, it does not have differentiated organs, a police force,
for instance, capable of imposing by force the exterior order
necessary to society. Because the police or executory function
is not fulfilled, the states that are the victims of international
disorders array themselves against the disturbers, and at the
same time as they protect their interests, they assume functions
which, in an organized society, would devolve to the forces of
international society. There is no doubt, as we see things, that
the intervention in September, 1939, of Great Britian and
France in favor of Poland, victim of an aggression following
upon the assaults niade upon European public order by the
Hitlerian policies, had in its origin and in certain of its aspects,
the character of an experiment in international policing.
One can say without paradox that less and less frequently
does war fill in in the absence of judicial organs. If the
international disputes seeking to be resolved by the application
of law are numerous, they are not the ones which today carry
the greatest threat of war. In these cases, law exists; it need
only be affirmed. It is the normal work of the judge or the
referee to do so. A conflict contains the elements of a trial;
it is only a question of setting forth the cause of action and
bringing it to an international tribunal. Due to the lack of
appropriate organs, war still seems to be the ultima ratio of
justice and akin to an armed plea, but it is in this domain that
international organization has made its most manifest progress.
In conflicts between states, it has become classic to distinguish
between differences in the juridical or.der, in which the warring
parties mutually contest a right, and differences in the political
order. Disputes of the first type normally go to a judge or a
referee, and the progress of legal means, particularly those .of
arbitration and of judicial ruling, by assuring the parties a
peaceful solution, renders less likely recourse to war by either
of the parties. Who would, however, dare to say that today
war is still not a final method of pleading in the international
forumP

324

J. T. DELOS

We can see how erroneous was the method used by the
doctrine of the classical period. Taking as the point of
departure for its considerations the independent state, deducing
from its sovereignty the existence of a right to war, asking
the moralists then to determine the conditions in which this
right may be exercised, all this could not bring about satisfactory results. As a matter of fact, this method brought
about bad results in the main. Even in this period, the states
lived in society. If the dogma of sovereignty had not led
minds astray, they would have recognized that war was a
procedure, to which was attached a triple function of substitution-legislative, judicial, and executive. The initial error,
common to statesmen, jurists, and moralists, pertains to the
nature of international society, whose organic character was
misunderstood to the profit of the sovereignty of the states.
This error led to a misunderstanding of the true nature of war,
and this second deformation of truth constrained International
Law to .accept the contradictions that we have pointed out
above. War, a social procedure, was considered as the exercise
of a subjective right by the state, a sovereign person, all the
while it fulfilled a social function. Polyvalent, it has been
considered monovalent and bound up essentially with the
judicial function. In these conditions, moral philosophy has
found itself incapable of supplying the principles of justice
which must serve as the basis of peace. It sought it in individual justice, whereas it should have been seeking it in social
justice and in societal organization.
The modern period ends with the unleashing of the war of
1914. Two documents already mark the steps accomplished
in the course of the new period: the League of Nations Pact
and the United Nations Charter. What modification do they
bring to the judicial and sociological conception of war?

J. T. DELOS, 0. P.
A mbassade d(} France pres le Saint Siege,
Rome, Italy.

(To be continued)

HOPE AND CHARITY IN ST. THOMAS
[Conclusion]

III.

AFTER ST. THOMAS

ANY modern theologians do not conceive the disinterestedness of charity in the same way as did St. Thomas
and St. Augustine before him. To-day, and for some
time past, theologians tend to exclude from charity all selfregarding love and to bar from it not only the desire or intention
to acquire anything created from charity but also the will
for union of God, our last end and final beatitude. In
this view, surrender to God only would constitute the pure
love of charity, while love of desire of God would belong to
hope. This is commonly stated as follows: the formal object
of charity is the absolute goodness of God, bonitas Dei absoluta;
the formal object of hope is God's relative goodness, bonitas
Deo relativa, God good in Himself, or God good for us, respectively. Where did this swerving from St. Thomas's doctrine
and from the traditional teaching set in? How did it succeed
in becoming wide-spread as it did? The answer to these
questions will further illustrate St. Thomas's teaching on hope
and charity.
It is Scotus who began the new conception of hope and
charity, or at any rate who built up a systematic theory of it,
though he had some precursors in the originators and exponents
of the ecstatic theory of love and charity. And it is mainly
Suarez who is responsible for spreading the new conception.
We must then consider the theories of Scotus and Suarez
on hope and charity, always from the angle of the particular
problem we are studying: whether the desire of· God is hope
or charity. After exposing and criticizing their theories, we
shall briefly indicate some authors of the Thomist tradition,

326

P. DE LETTER

and lastly point to the present-day return to the traditional
positions.
1.

SCOTUS AND SUAREZ ON HOPE

In his Opus Oxoniense, Scotus, after enumerating different
views and theories on hope, exposes his own: " I say that hope
is a theological virtue, one and distinct from faith and charity.
This can be proved this way. We experience in ourselves an
act of this kind, namely, to desire that the infinite Good be
in us as our good, and this through God giving Himself to us
in liberality; not, it is true, as a first move on His part, but
on account of something else that is agreeable to Him and that
is directed to this self-giving of God, as on account of merit.
Such an act is good, because it is vested with the required
circumstances. There can, therefore, exist a virtue that inclines
to it" (And this is hope) .159
For Scotus, then, hope is the virtue that inclines to desire
the infinite Good as our own good, that is, the desire for God,
giving Himself to us in liberality, on account of merit. Its
act we know from experience. It is a good or virtuous act.
It is also theological, " because it regards God as its immediate
object. For, all other formalities that are added to the object
do not take away the nature of the object, insofar as it is
object. In fact, the circumstance that I desire the object for
myself, or for such or such a person, does not do away with
the fact that I desire it as an object. Consequently that on
which the act of hope bears, is the infinite and eternal Good.
Hope, therefore, is a theological virtue." 160 So, the fact that
I desire the infinite Good for myself does not, according to
Scotus, affect the theological character of this desire, because
its object is God. And it is not true to say that, " to desire
••• 3 Sent. d. 26, q. un., 10, Dico quod spes est virtus theologica unica et
distincta a fide et caritate. Quod persuadetur sic: experimur in nobis hunc actum,
scilicet, desiderare bonum infinitum in esse nobis bonum, et hoc a Deo seipsum nobis
liberaliter conferente; non quidem primo, sed propter aliquid acceptum sibi ordinatum ad illud ut propter merita. . . .
160 Loc. cit., 11, Quia respicit Deum pro obiecto immediate, nam per omnia
alia quae adduntur ipsi obiecto, non tollitur ratio obiecti. . . .

HOPE AND CHARITY IN ST. THOMAS

a good for myself changes the formal ratio of the object, because
it transforms an honest good into a useful one." 161 Because,
" to desire something for myself expresses only a relation to
the will. ... that is, a respect of reason ... "; 162 and of such
a respect it can be said that it is caused in God when I desire
that the infiinite Good be good for me. That is, the desire
of God as my own good means in God only a relation of pure
reason, respectus rationis, not a real change, nothing real. It
does not therefore change the nature of the formal object.
That this theological desire of God is neither charity nor
faith, and therefore is hope, Scotus proves in this manner:
" To desire that the infinite Good should be my own good,
is not a love of friendship; nor is it the most exalted act, because
the object exists in a more exalted manner in itself than· in
another, or when compared with something different from
itself. Consequently, the act of desire which we have proved
to exist above, is not an act of charity" (which is only love
of friendship and its most exalted act) .168 Scotus' reason,
therefore, for saying the desire of union with God is not charity,
is that charity is only love of friendship and the most noble
love in man. We shall examine this conception of charity
later. Now we note only this: because there is no room within
the virtue of charity for the desire of God as our good, and
because there is a desire of God which is a theological act,
hope must be the theological virtue by which we seek union
with God as our supreme Good.
In previous remarks Scotus had proved, mainly by refuting
the traditional teaching on hope, that the additional formalities
of the object of hope, an absent or arduous good, " do not
suffice to specify a virtue "; thus against Henry of Ghent who
placed hope in the irascible part of the will. The notion of
arduous, Scotus argues, can have no meaning except as " a
Loc. cit., 18, Desiderare mihi bonum. non variat formalem rationem obiecti.
••• Ibid., Quia desiderare mihi non dicit nisi respectum volunt11.tis . . i. e.
respectum rationis tantlim.
163 Loc. cit., 15, Desiderare bonum .infinitum esse bonum meum, non est amor
amicitiae, nee est nobilissimus • • igitur istud desiderare non est actus caritatis.
161

828

P. DE LETTER

valuable and appreciable good, that is, lovable to the extent
that it surpasses all that is contrary to it." But this, he says,
is exactly the object of charity, which virtue "regards God
under the aspect of appreciable, because it regards Him under
the aspect of infinite Good." 164
This conception of hope, opposed to the doctrine of both
St. Bonaventure and St. Thomas (and Scotus is not unaware
of it) / 65 has not only been accepted in the Franciscan school
that follows Scotus, but it has also made its way into many
modern schools of theology, owing especially to the influence
of Suarez who has adopted the Scotist view on hope and read
it into some texts of St. Thomas.
We find Suarez's idea of hope in his Questiones Disputatae
De Spe, where he treats of the formal object of hope. Mter
mentioning two theories which he rejects in full or in part, he
continues: " A third opinion asserts that the object of hope
is God as the supreme Good lovable with a love of desire and,
so to speak, to the advantage of the lover." 166 This, he says,
is held by St. Thomas but he is aware that many followers of
St. Thomas do not understand his texts in that sense ("whatever others may say ") . He tells us that this idea is more
clearly expressed in Scotus, (8 Sent. d. 26 and 27) / 67
The main reason why this desire of God as our Good, although
supernatural and theological, is not charity, Suarez states
thus: " That this love is distinct from the the love of charity
is evident, because one is a love of desire, the other a love of
friendship." 168 That is, because charity is only love of friendship, not love of desire. We shall presently consider further
this idea of charity. Suarez is aware that his idea of hope is
not traditional. He himself formulates the objection: " This
Loc. cit., 6, Bonum absens arduum non sufficit ad specificandam virtutem.
Loc. cit., 19, Contra viam istam quae ponit desiderare actum spei, arguo ...
166 Suarez, Q. Disp. De Spe, sect. 8. c. 4, Tertia sententia asserit obiectum spei
esse Deum ut summum bonum amabile amore concupiscentiae, quasi commodum
amantis.
167 Loc. cit., Quidquid alii dicant; clarius Scotus.
168 Loc. cit., Quod hie amor sit distinctus ab amore caritatis, patet quia alter
est concupiscentiae, alter amicitiae.
16 '

165

HOPE AND CHARITY IN ST. THOMAS

329

seems to be against the common way of conceiving hope.
Hope is wont to be defined as the expectation of the future
beatitude: this is evident from the Magister (in 2 Sent. dist. 26) ;
but to expect is not the same as to desire." He answers:
" I deny that hope, though in reality the same thing as desire,
can not be called expectation, as in fact it is called. Rather,
if we pay attention to the ordinary way of conceiving, we
shall see that to expect something is nothing else but to desire
that it comes, supposing the judgment that it will come." 169
Suarez endeavors to explain away the difference between desire
and expectation, and thus to reconcile his idea with the traditional one. Does he suceed in this?
To the objection, also met by Scotus, that the
good
is the object of hope, Suarez replies that the arduousness
belongs to hope but not as its formal object or "the reason
·why one tends to such object," but only as a condition. 170
And so, the formal object of the theological virtue of hope is
God" as He is our supreme Good "; 171 and here lies the difference between hope and charity. It is therefore not God's
omnipotence. 172 This idea of hope, of both Scotus and Suarez,
is intimately linked up with their conception of charity as
excluding the love of desire of God.
2.

SCOTUS AND SUAREZ ON CHARITY

Scotus calls charity the" habitual supreme love"; and since
the love of friendship is superior to the love of desire, charity
naturally inclines to love with a love of friendship, and not
with the more imperfect love of desire. 173 How then does
Scotus conceive this love of friendship so as to exclude from
169 Loc. cit., 12, Videtur esse contra co=unem
modum concipiendi de spe:
solet enim definiri expectatio futurae beatitudinis . . expectare autem non est
desiderare.
170 Loc. cit., 15, Ut conditio vel occasio.
1 n Loc. cit., 20, Deus ut est summum bonum nostrum.
11 " Loc. cit., 21.
173 Cf. Scotus, 3 Sent. d. 26, q. un., 17, Caritas est suprema virtus affective ...
amor autem amicitiae est simpliciter perfectior amore concupiscentiae, igitur caritas
inclinat ad amandum simpliciter amore amicitiae.

830

P. DE LETTER

charity all love of desire? He states that the distinction between
charity and hope lies in this: hope desires the good of the
lover insofar as it is his profit; charity tends to the object in
itself ·and would tend to it even when-an impossible supposition-the object did not bring any advantage to the lover.
Charity is the virtue that perfects the will insofar as the will
possesses the affection of justice; hope perfects the will
according to its affection of advantage. 17 "' In other words,
charity
loves the Other as other; hope desires the other as
,,
ones own.
The reason why charity excludes the love of desire, or the
self-regard that seeks the lover's profit, is because "it regards
God under the aspect of the most perfect loveahleness ";
and for that reason its formal object
not be God "as
beatifying Good." 175 Nor can you say that 1charity includes in
its formal object, next to the infinite goodness considered in
itself, the aspect of beatifying ga.od, because, " it is not
possible that there be a twofold object of one and the same
act." 176 But does not love of friendship seek for union with
the friend? Scotus' answer must be weighed. When determining the formal object (ratio obiectiva) of the act of charity,
he considers this object in three ways: 1) as the object that
terminates the act (ratio terminandi) ; this is God in Himself
(ratio Dei in se) in no way considered under some relative
aspect or other; 2) as the object of the act that invites to love,
prior to and provoking the act of love; this is God " insofar as
He is a convenient good that communicates itself to the lover,"
that is, God considered as the desirable good of the lover;· 3) as
the object that in a way gives the act of charity its completeness, without specifying it; this is God " as the beatifying good
174 3 Sernt. d. ft7, q. un., 2, Haec virtus (caritas) distincta est •.. similiter a
spe, quia actus eius non est concupiscere bonum amanti, inquantum est commodum
amantis, sed tendere in obiectum secundum se, etiamsi per impossibile circumscriberetur ab eo commoditas eius ad amantem. Bane virtutem perficientem voluntatem,
inquantum habet affectionem iustitiae, voco caritatem.
176 Cf. loc. cit., 5.
ue Loc. cit., 6, Eiusdem actus non videtur duplex formalis ratio obiectiva.

HOPE AND CHARITY IN ST. THOMAS

881

of the lover." 177 For Scotus, therefore, what is the proper act
of charity has for its formal object God in Himself without
any consideration of a relation to the lover. This act is preceded
by what attracts man to love God in that way, that, is, God
as desirable; and it is followed or accompanied by what crowns
the act of charity, God as beatifying object. These last two
aspects of the object of charity do not enter its formal act.
The first of them leads to the act of charity, but it is not that
act itself. The second is following the act of charity, it is no
longer itself an act of charity. These two aspects may belong
to the formal object of charity in a broad sense, as conditions
that will always go together with it, and without which charity
could not exist. But they do not make the act of charity what
it is.
Scotus's explanation of the love of self which belongs to
the virtue of charity confirms this idea. In the very act of
love of self through charity, man tends towards another; "In
this act of love man tends to another, because he tends to
God as to the principal object of his act; yet he really loves
himself out of charity, though not as final object, but as a
proximate object directed to the last object that is distinct
!rom it." 178 The other, as other, is the formal object of charity.
In further explantion of this idea he says, " The acts by which
I love my neighbor and myself are reflex acts through the
medium of which I tend to the infinite good that is God." 179
They are the secondary acts of charity. One object only, God,
is loved first, as good in itself; then charity " wishes that He
be loved and in love possessed by any one else, as far as charity
177 Loc. cit., 7, Ratio obiectiva actus caritatis et habitus, potest intelligi tripliciter.
Vel prima, quae secundum se accepts nata est per se esse ratio terminandi; vel
secunda, quae est aliqua ratio praecedens actum, propter quem natus est actus
elici circa obiectum; vel tertia, quae quasi concomitatur. Prima ratio est prorie
ratio obiectiva et non alia, stricte loquendo, et haec ratio obiectiva est ratio Dei
in se.
118 3 Sent. d, !t9, q. un., 2, In hac dilectione tendit in alterum, quia in Deum
tamquam in principale obiectum actus.
110 3 Sent. d. !t8, q. un., 2, Actus reflexi . • mediantibus quibus tendo in
infinitum bonum quod est Deus.

332

P. DE LETTER

goes; because the perfect and well-ordered love of God consists
in that; and by wishing this, I love myself, and my neighbor." 180
So, it is precisely because the love of God in Himself requires
that I desire Him to be loved and possessed in love by all, that
charity implies secondarily the love of myself and of my neighbor; but the formal reason of this love is God, not my advantage. What is willed in it, is not the possession of God in my
good; that would be the affection of advantage (affectio commodi) . What is willed is that God be loved and possessed by
all as He should be, "that is simply the goodness proper to
justice." 181 And so," in the same act I wish for God and wish
you to wish for God, and in this precisely I love you out of
charity, because by it I wish you the good proper to justice." 182
These secondary elements of charity, extrinsic to what is
formally its act, differ from the love of desire which is hope.
They are not a love of desire; the aspect under which they
view the object of the self-regarding love, is God Himself, the
other as such. In hope, the aspect viewed in the object of
the self regarding love is the appeasing and beatifying power
of the possession of God. Advantage (commodum) and
justice (iustitia) express, according to Scotus, the two different
formal objects of hope and charity. 188
When asking under which formal aspect God is object of
charity, Suarez, less subtly and more unmistakably than Scotus,
states what has become the more common opinion of modern
theologians. The formal object of charity is God "under the
aspect of the supreme Good lovable for its own sake." 184 The
moderns express this by saying, " the absolute goodness of
Ibid. Velie eum diligi et per dilectionem haberi a quocumque.
Ibid. quod est bonum simpliciter iustitiae.
180 Loc. cit. 8.
188 Scotus · hardly analyses the aspect of the theological virtues by which they
are essentially the principles of our supernatural finality, of our effective orientation
to God as our supernatural end. This idea of the end comes in at most as a
side-consideration, whilst for St. Thomas it constitutes the central reality of the
theological virtue as such, and of charity in particular.
18 • Suarez, Tr. 3 De Caritate, disp. I, sect. 2, Sub qua ratione formali Deus sit
obiectum caritatis. Sub ratione summi boni, propter se amabilis:
180

181

HOPE AND CHARITY IN ST. THOMAS

333

God." Its difference from the object of the love of hope or
of desire is plain: hope loves God " as the supreme good of
the lover," charity loves Him" for His own sake." 185
Yet, the love of benevolence which is the proper love of
charity, though it does not tend to its object as to the good
of the lover, requires and seeks some union between the lover
and the beloved. " Hence it further follows that the object
of benevolence or well-wishing, though it is loved for its own
sake, yet is loved in such a manner, that at the same time
union with this object is sought. For that belongs to the
perfection of friendship." 186 Charity, then, which loves God
in Himself, and not as the good of the lover, seeks union with
Him, because this union is the connatural perfection of friendship. Is this desire of union with God a love of desire? And
if so, is it an act of charity different from the act of hope?
Suarez does not explicitly answer this question.
We find some indications, however, when he explains the
love of self which charity commands. Of this Jatter he says,
" Charity after the love of God, inclines more to love the lover
himself (than anything else)." 187 And he explains: "The
formal object of charity is to incline the man in
it
resides to the love of God and to unite man with God. Consequently in the primary inclination of charity is included
to some extent a relation to the lover himself." 188 Charity
seeks union with God, because it can not love God in Himself
without seeking this union. But it does not seek this union
as the good of the lover, but for God's sake. For we read:
" The proper act of charity is to love God Himself, that is, so
that the love by which God is loved as our good, is excluded
from it. For, although this love is right, it is not elicited by
186 Loc. cit., for hope, ut sm:nmum bonum diligentis; charity,
diligit Deum
propter se.
188 Loc. cit. 6, Hinc fit ulterius ut obiectum benevolentiae, quamvis propter se
ametur ita tamen amari, ut simul appetatur coniunctio et unio cum tali obiecto:
hoc enim requiritur ad perfectionem amicitiae.
187 Loc. cit., sect. 4, 8.
188 Loc. cit., Rursus efl'ectus formalis caritatis est inclinare hominum, in quo est,
ad Dei dilectionem, et coniungere hominem Deo.

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P. DE LETTER

charity, as is clear from the theory of hope." 189 For Suarez,
as for Scotus, to seek union with God as our own good, is hope,
not charity. The formal reason why God is loved in charity
and why union with Him is sought through charity, is "the
good of God, stopping at that," that is, not considered as our
good.
When dealing with the question, " Whether the intention
of obtaining a reward is sufficient for strict merit, or rather
opposed to it," Suarez has to answer the objection, that to work
for a reward is a mercenary love, whilst " charity loves God
for Himself and directs all other good to him for His glory." 190
In answering he shows how the love of charity in one way
excludes and in another includes the desire for union with
God. " Man can wish beatitude for himself from a love of
charity for God for His own sake, and he can try to obtain
it through his works: because by loving for himself the good
of the beatitude as his proximate object, he does not exclude
the relation it has to God as to the last end." 191 Such a desire
of the eternal reward is virtually an act of charity for God:
" Finally we can say this: by the very fact that a just man
by working in a right and virtuous manner, intends the eternal
reward, he has as his first intention, virtually at least, the glory
of God, because all that he wishes tends to the glory of God
and is directed to God as its last end." 192 But this desire of
the eternal reward that is included in, and is only a form of, the
love of charity or·of the love of God in Himself, is not the same
as the love of desire which is hope. Hope looks for the reward
of the kingdom of God out of a love of desire; charity, on the
189 Loc. cit., disp. !, sect. I, I, Ut excludatur. is amor, quo amatur Deus ut bonum
nostrum, nam Iicet sit honestus, non est tamen a caritate elicitus, ut ex materia
de spe constat.
190 De Gratia, lib. 12, c. 1!!, Utrum intentio obtinendi praemium sit sufficiens vel
necessaria ad meritum de condigno, vel potius illi repugnet.
101 Loc. cit. 6, lmo potest homo ex amore caritatis Dei propter ipsum velle sibi
beatitudinem, et illam per opera sua procurare.
192 Loo. cit. I4, Eo ipso quod iustas, operando debito et honesto modo, mercedem
etiam intendere, saltem virtualiter, ut glorificetur Deus.
intuetur aetemam,

HOPE AND CHARITY IN ST. THOMAS

335

contrary, looks for it "for the sake of God's glory and out of
love of friendship of God." 198
For Suarez, then, as for Scotus, charity is love of God for
His own sake, love of benevolence or friendship; it includes
a desire of union with God, not for man's sake, but for God's
sake. This desire of union is not a love of desire (amor concupiscentiae) but only a form of the love of friendship (amor
amicitiae) .194
8.

CRITICISM OF THE NEW IDEAS

It is time to consider the Scotist-Suarezian 195 ideas on hope
and charity and to contrast them with the teaching of St.
Thomas. Hope, according to Scotus-Suarez, is formally the
desire of God or of the infinite good as one's own supreme
good. It is the love of desire, or of concupiscence, which is
theological or has as its formal object God Himself, not a
created goodness; but it is essentially directed to God as one's
own good, not as He is good in Himself.
Charity, on the other hand, is formally the love of friendship
or of benevolence which loves God for His own sake, not for
the relation He may have to the individual. It is the love
of God as the other, formally as He is good in Himself, not as
He is good to the individual. Yet, charity does not exclude
the volition of union with God. The new conception does
admit in char_ity a desire of union. But this desire of union
does not preceed from a love of desire, but from the love of
benevolence or of friendship. It necessarily proceeds from this
friendship because the love of God in Himself presupposes
Loc. cit. 10, Propter gloriam Dei et ex amore iustitiae ipsius.
We may note here ·for Suarez, as we did for Scotus, the almost complete
absence of the teleological or finalistic viewpoint in the explanation of the theological virtues. We shall note further what this implies as differing from St.
Thomas' conception.
19 " In this critical estimate of the new ideas we shall neglect. the accidental
differences between the Scotist and the Suarezian positions, and mainly consider
the new conception as it has been proposed by Suarez. We may call it, however,
the Scotist-Suarezian conception, as Scotus was undoubtedly the. originator of it
in Scholasticism and Suarez himself, as we have noted, bases his doctrine on Scotus.
198

1 "'

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P. DE LETTER

or brings with it the· desire of the return of love, or of God as
beatifying good. Accordingly, this union with God is desired
only out of benevolence for God. The formal aspect, or the
of this desire remains love of God for His own
sake. It is a disinterested desire. There is a desire of union
with God which is theological and flows from the love of desire
of God, or from the love of our own supreme good. But this
is hope, not charity.
The new conception, therefore, knows two kinds of desire
for union with God, and the radical difference between the two
lies in this: the desire for union with God that belongs to
charity has for its formal reason or motive, or formal object,
God in Himself, God's glory, God's absolute goodness. It is
benevolence for God, friendship for God, selfless love of God.
Of the desire for union with God that springs from hope the
formal reason is God as the individual's own supreme good,
that is, God's relative goodness, a love of desire or of concupiscence which essentially regards the good of the lover.
The new conception differs from St. Thomas with regard
to the particular problem we are studying, in this, that it
admits a twofold (theological) desire of union with God, of
which it refers one to hope and the other to charity. 196 Does
this involve a real difference in the conception of these two
theological virtues? For hope the difference is apparent.
Scotus-Suarez conceive hope as essentially a desire of God as
our supreme good. In this they depart from St. Thomas for
whom hope is not 11 love of desire but a reliance on God's
helping omnipotence with a view to attain the heavenly
beatitude.
For charity, the difference between the two conceptions
is less plain. Both hold that charity, love of friendship for God,
brings with it a desire of union with Him. For Scotus-Suarez
this desire is not a love of concupiscence or of desire which
108 St. Thomas, as noted, also views the desire for union with God, involved in
charity, from different aspects, for example, as a wish for the return of the Friend's
love, or as attainment of the last end. But these do not constitute different kinds
of desire.

HOPE AND CHARITY IN ST. THOMAS

387

would seek God as our own supreme good, but a concomitant
or antecedent to the love of friendship that can not exist without a desire of union; it is distinct from what is formally the
act of charity for God, or love of God in Himself, but it is
inspired by this very love; it remains altruistic. For St.
Thomas, the desire of union with God that is necessarily
found in charity, is a real love of desire of God, or a love of
God as our own good (which love Scotus-Suarez call hope),
and this is the secondary but necessary act of charity. Is
this double way of conceiving and naming the desire of union
with God that is found in charity more than a difference in
words? The question comes to this: Is the desire of union
with God which Scotus-Suarez include in charity really different
from the love of desire which St. Thomas considers as the
secondary act of charity (but Scotus-Suarez consider as hope) ?
Scotus-Suarez undoubtedly say there is a difference between
these two kinds of desire of union with God. One is inspired
by a self regarding love or a search for our own good, and is
hope; the other is charity and animated by the disinterested
love of God which is not possible without a desire for this union.
For the Thomist conception, the desire of union included in
.charity is formally an act of self-regarding love though subordinate to the primary act of charity, to the love of benevolence.
The radical difference of inspiration which underlies the
two conceptions is evidently the double idea of love which,
since Fr. Rousselot's essay, On the Problem of Love in the
Middle Ages/ 97 has been known as the ecstatic and physical
theory of love. In the first, which inspires Scotus-Suarez's
teaching, love for a person and for God is based on altruism;
it is essentially the volition of the other as other, affection
of justice. In the second theory, which is St. Thomas', love is
based on unity, and we love the other (in charity also) because
he is our good; we love God more than ourselves because He
is more our good than we are ourselves. Scotus called this the
affection of advantage or profit. Does this difference in the
P. Rousselot, Pour l'histoire du probleme de l'amour au Moyen-Age, in
Baumker's Beitriige zur Geschichte de:r Philosophie des Mittelalte:rs, 6 (1906).
191

3

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P. DE LETTER

underlying concept of love objectively differentiate the desire of
union which Scotus-Suarez on the one hand, and St. Thomas on
the other, allow in charity?
To answer the above question we must contrast the love
of desire of God in which Scotus-Suarez see the essential act
of hope (and St. Thomas the secondary act of charity) with
the desire of union with God which they allow in charity.
Both desires are the same materialiter, in the sense that both
are a volition of union with the infinite good, God Himself.
formal aspects are ,said to be different; in hope it is a
desire of one's own good, self-regarding love; in charity it is
a desire of the good of the other, a disinterested love. Does
this difference in the viewpoint, the infinite good considered
in itself, or as my supreme good, constitute a difference in
the formal objects of the acts and thus in reality, so that one
can be hope and the other charity?
Yes, there would be a difference in the formal objects of the
acts, if a dissociation between both viewpoints is possible, that
is, if the one does not of necessity imply the other. No, there
can be no difference in the formal objects and in the reality
of things, if the conscious intention of the one necessarily
implies the unexpressed but really present intention of the
other. If the desire of union with God for God's sake, sought
out of love of benevolence, necessarily goes together with the
desire of union with God as with our own supreme good, so
that the intention of the first is inseparable from the other,
then the difference in viewpoint between the two desires of
union is merely apparent and not reaU 98
198 We may illustrate this remark with
an example of a similar indissociable
connection between two intentions, in the condemnation by Pope Pius Xll, in an
allocution to the Italian Lenten preachers, 22 February 1944 (cf. Acta Apostolicae
Sedis, 1944, p. 78), of some new errors about the nature of mortal sin. Some
that there is a real mortal sin only when a commandment is transgressed
with the express intention of offending God; otherwise, though the act is a sin
against the precept, it would not entail the loss of the supernatural life. The Pope
condemns this unequivocally. The faith and theology teach, he says, that every
sin is an offence of God and does intend to offend God, because the inherent
intention of a grave fault goes against God's will whose commandment it violates.

HOPE AND CHARITY IN ST. THOMAS

889

Now, it is not difficult to show, on Thomistic principles,
that the love of benevolence which inspires the desire for
union of the Scotist-Suarezian conception of charity, is inseparable from the love of desire for God which St. Thomas includes
in charity. The conscious intention or neglect of the latter
makes no difference in reality, since it will of its nature be
implicated in the other. Union with God as supreme good
is nothing but the attainment of the last supernatural end.
Finis et bonum convertuntur. The attainment of the :final
end necessarily implies a double aspect: the aspect of the
object or of the end, and in this regard union with God is
surrender to Him; it is a love of God in Himself, as the absolute
good; the union is sought for God's sake, commanded by the
love of benevolence. This is the more fundamental act of
charity. The other is the aspect of the subject who attains
the end, and from this angle union with God is attainment of
one's supreme good; it is a love of God as our own good; the
union is sought for our sake, by a love of desire. Whichever way we consider the union with God, one aspect is inseparable from the other, one is necessarily virtually implied in the
other. The explicit consideration or non-consideration of one
of the two aspects, logically and by nature inseparable, makes
no difference as to their presence or absence. Union with God
of its nature involves both an altruistic aspect, surrender to
God, and a self-regarding one, possession of God. The twofold
union with God as conceived by Scotus-Suarez, is in fact one
and the same reality, viewed from its two different and
inseparable angles.
Since this so, the Scotist-Suarezian concept of hope and
charity rests on the false assumption that a theological selfregarding love of God is possible without a love of benevolence,
when they conceive hope as a love of desire of God.199 Their
concept of charity rests on the false assumption that pure
love of benevolence for God is possible without being at the
100 The desire of God is supposed to be theological (whether it be conceived as
charity or as hope). It may be .well to recall this, for herein lies the reason why
it is inseparable from charity.

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P. DE LETTER

same time a desire for union with Him as with our own supreme
Good or last end. 200 Psychologically in the explicit consciousness each of these two acts of love of God may appear isolated
from the other; in reality, because of the necessary implications
of each of these acts, their separation is impossible. And so
the difference in the explication of viewpoints before a reality
which is the attainment of the last end produces no objective
difference. Union with God is both the supreme surrender
and the supreme enrichment, and it can not but be both these
realities inseparably.
But then the Scotist-Suarezian idea of hope is unacceptable
because the love of desire of God, when it is theological, can
not exist without the love of benevolence, that is, without
charity. 201 As to the altruistic desire of God which they allow
in charity, either this is a real and objective volition of union
with Gqd, and then, whatever view one takes of it, it is a love
of desire of God as our own supreme good. It is self-regarding,
though (and this is the element of truth in the ScotistSuarezian insistence on the disinterested character of charity)
this aspect is subordinate to the deeper reality of charity
which is surrender. Or the desire of union is altruistic to the
point that one excludes from it the enrichment following on
the acquisition of our own supreme good; then we face a
contradiction in terms essentially identical to the impossible
desires expressed by some Saints 202 who declared themselves
ready to be sent to hell for love of God provided only they
could continue to love and serve Him there. In this latter
explanation charity becomes irrational and unintelligible--or
impossible. In the former, we come back to St. Thomas's
••• Scotus excludes this desire of union from the formal act of charity when he
states that God as beatifying object can not fall within the formal object of charity.
201 At least when this desire is not informis or imperfect.
For, as repeatedly
pointed out, the imperfect desire that is presupposed in hope can and does exist
without charity.
••• About these impossible desires, cf. J. Farges and M. Viller, Diet. de Spir. 2,
586-87 and J. de Guibert, Etudes de TkBologie Mystique (Toulouse 1980),
p. 250, n. iO.

HOPE AND CHARITY IN ST. THOMAS

841

of charity which is primarily a love of friendship and
secondarily but necessarily a love of desire.
It should be sufficiently clear now that at the origin of the
ideas on hope and charity lies a shifting of viewpoint from the
ontological plane, where St. Thomas used to see and study
hope and charity in their objective reality, to the psychological
field where to Scotus and Suarez (as to any one else) desire
and love appear distinct from. and opposed to each other as
interested and disinterested love, and therefore as separable. 208
But the appearance of charity on the conscious leve_l as a
disinterested love of God to whom we surrender all, including
ourselves, does not reveal the whole reality of it. This reality
can be adequately expressed in metaphysical terms only; it
is the volition of the last end. Psychologically this appears
first as surrender to the final goal, but secondarily as enriching
union with Him. Surrender necessarily looks, and is, disinterested; yet it is impossible without . an objectively interested
wish for union. Exclusion of this interested aspect of charity
(except insofar as is needed to make of this desire a theological
act) is unnecessary and unreal. 204
ff. The concrete sign of this shifting of
••• Cf. J. de Guibert, op. cit., pp.
viewpoint from the ontological to the psychological, we may see, for example, in
in the neglect of the finalistic viewpoint in the
Scotus' text and it
study of the theological virtues. The idea of orientation to the end places one on
the ontological plane, whilst the experimental observation of psychological· facts
remains, as such, confined within the phenomenal or sensitivo-rational. It is no
doubt greatly due to this psychological viewpoint that the desire which, according
to St. Thomas, is presupposed to hope is more commonly considered as entering the
act of hope itself. The complex psychological state which reveals the act of hope
shows up, among other traits, an element of desire. Considered 'on the ontological
level, this desire is not hope but only presupposed in it. But when, because of a
new conception of charity, it was no longer considered possible to include love of
desire in charity, theologians, not unnaturally, were led to refer it to hope.
••• We may add that the twofold concept of love and charity, ecstatic and
physical, is not without connection with a fundamental difference in the metaphysical conception of the finite being. When the esse is conceived as really
limited by the essence, really distinct from it as act from potency, then the being's
fundamental dynamism originating from this limitation necessarily tends to perfect
the limited act; its tendency is acquisitive; we have the physical conception of
love. When the distinction between esse and essence is not conceived as real, .the

P. DE LETTER

Thus viewed in the light of St. Thomas' conception of
finality, it seems but natural that the new ideas on hope and
charity were not accepted in the Thomist school. If many
theologians did follow them, it was no doubt due to the widespread authority of Scotus during the centuries of low-level
Scholasticism, the seventeenth to the nineteenth centuries.
With the Scholastic and especially the Thomist revival, towards
the close of the nineteenth century, a marked tendency appears
to return to the traditional concept. After briefly noting the
Thomist tradition that remains faithful to the Angelic Doctor,
we shall also point to this return to St. Thomas' ideas on hope
and charity in our present day theology.
4.

THE TRADITIONAL

CONCEPT

We shall not make any attempt to sketch here even summarily
the history of the Thomist tradition on hope and charity. We
only wish to bring out how St. Thomas' concept has been
followed by his school in spite of the Scotist-Suarezian innovation. For that purpose we shall, for each of the two periods
of Scotus and of Suarez, ask two representative Thomists what
their answer is to our question: " Is the desire of union with
God hope or charity?" For completeness' sake we shall also
listen to a partially discordant voice, the teaching of Cajetan.
1. Capreolus. For the Princeps Thomistarum, hope supposes
a love of desire but is not itself a love of desire.205 Its formal
object is God as helping us to obtain the beatitude. In his
teaching on charity he takes a stand against Scotus and in
unambiguous terms summarizes St. Thomas's doctrines. Three
of his conclusions refer to our problem. " The second conclusion is that the object of charity is God inasfar as He is
beatifying or the object of beatitude." His proof runs: "That
natural tendency of a being towards the other need no longer be a dynamism
seeking to perfect the subject; it goes towards the other as other; this is the
ecstatic concept of love.
••• J. Capreolus, 3 Sent. d. 26, q. 1, a. 8, § 1 ad 1m., Spes pertinet ad amorem
concupiscentiae et ex illo derivatur; non quod spes sit amor concupiscentiae.

HOPE AND CHARITY IN ST. THOMAS

848

aspect constitutes the formal object of charity under which
charity tends to its object, that is, to God, in a manner
different from other habits. But the aspect of beatifying object
or object of beatitude is precisely such with regard to God,
insofar as charity tends towards Him. Therefore, etc." 206
Another, the fourth conclusion, is "that charity inclines to
love God with a double love, namely, love of friendship and
of desire." The proof: " Every virtuous and perfect friendship
loves the friend with a double love, namely, love of friendship,
in wishing him well; and love of desire, wishing for his presence
and company. But charity is a perfect friendship with God.
Therefore, etc." 207 Lastly, "the fifth conclusion is that in
the love of God we may in some way have a reward in view":
charity does not exclude the intention of a reward. Which
reward may charity seek? The reward of heaven. Here is
the proof: "It does not go against charity to direct an act
of virtue towards its end, namely, the beatitude. But when
so directing, one intends ·the reward, since the beatitude is
the reward of virtuous acts. Therefore, etc." 208 Capreolus,
then, when conceiving the disinterestedness of charity does
not exclude from it the desire of union with God. Charity rather
includes this desire as a necessary act. This love of desire is
not hope.
Cajetan's teaching on hope and charity is strangely opposed
to what we have just read in Capreolus and it is akin to Scotus'
position. Hope, he says, is desire of God.209 Yet, elsewhere
we learn that" hope relies on God's help "; 210 or that" to hope
means to wish for an arduous possible good." 211 His position,
at any rate, is not definite and clear. Of charity he says that
it is " the love by which we love God for Himself, in Himself
and for His own sake." 212 There is another love of God which
••• 3 Sent. d. 27 ad SO, q. 1, a. 1, secunda conclusio.
Ibid., quarta conclusio.
••• Ibid., quinta conclusio.
••• Caietanus, In 11-11, q. 17, a. 5 no. 8, Et sic spe concupisco Deum ipsum.
210 In 11-11, q. 28, a. 6, ad 1, Spes innititur Deo auxilianti.
811 In 11-11, q. 18, a. 1, Velie bonum arduum possibile sibi.
219 In 11-11, q. 17, a. 5, n. 6.
007

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is not charity, but hope: "Charity is different from hope
according to the difference of the object, absolutely, inasmuch
as charity tends to the last end for its own sake, while hope
tends to the last end as our good." '213 This is the Scotist idea;
love of desire of God is hope, love of God for Himself is charity.
Yet charity itself includes a desire of union with God, as
Scotus also said. "To love (men) in God solely for His sake
includes to love oneself before the neighbor, because it includes
the wish that God be, and consequently that He be loved as
the good of the lover." 214 That is, charity implies a desire
of God as our own good.
As has been noted by P. Mandonnet, 0. P. 215 Cajetan who
has a personal interpretation of St. Thomas on several points
of doctrine, has not escaped the influence of Scotus whom he
opposed in the main. We have here a concrete example of
this Scotistic influence. One point to be noted is Cajetan's
explanation of the theological character of the love of desire
for God. He distinguishes: " to .desire something for me, and
to desire it for my sake; that is, for me as subject, or for me
as end." 216 I may desire the end, God, for myself, but I may
not desire it as a means to myself as to an end. So God can
be the object of a love of desire, " because He can be desired
for another not for that other's sake, but inversely, as the end
of the other, since He is the other's good in that manner." 217
Perfectly faithful to St. Thomas' concept which he proposes
in a personal and deep analysis, John of St. Thomas solves
our problem in an unmistakably Thomist sense. The love
of desire of God does not belong to hope. The formal object of
" 18 Loc. cit., a 6, Caritas fertur in ultimum finem propter seipsum, spes vero
in ultimum finem ut nostrum.
""In II-II, q. 26, a. 8.
"'" P. Mandonnet, 0. P., art. Cajetan, in Diet. de T'Mol. catk. 2 (1905), 1818-29,
La frequentation de Scot et de son ecole ... semble avoir quelquefois influe sur
lui (1825).
••• In II-II, q. 17, a. 5, n. 6, Aliud est concupiscere hoc mihi: et aliud concupiscere hoc propter me.
017 Loc. cit., n. 8.

HOPE AND CHARITY IN ST. THOMAS

345

hope is God's helping omnipotence that leads to beatitude. 218
Not merely the divine good, but the divine good under the
aspect of attainable arduous good. 219
Does the love of desire for God find a place in charity? Yes,
it does, though not as the primary act of charity, which is
benevolence for God, but as necessarily connected with this
primary act. John of St. Thomas brings out this necessary
inclusion in three ways. First, the divine goodness, loved for
its own sake as end, is loved as communicating itself. 220
Secondly, love of friendship, such as is charity, is not mere
benevolence or well-wishing; it wishes good to the friend who
lives with us and communicates himself to us, that is, it is
reciprocal well-wishing, a surrender that expects the return
of the surrender. 221 Thirdly, charity commands the love of
self, not stopping at oneself (that is only an imperfect love of
desire, which may even not be theological) ; but referring this
love of self to God, that is the perfect love of desire which can
be and is elicited by charity. 222 From a threefold angle, then,
does charity imply union with. God: as acquisition of the
end that communicates itself to us; as the return of well-wishing
or of the surrender between friends; as the love of self by which
charity seeks God as a man's own supreme good. The wish for
union with God is charity, not hope.
The author of the Clypeus Thomisticus, written shortly
after the time of Suarez, exposes the traditional concept of
hope and charity. The formal object of hope, he says, is God's
omnipotence or God as helping, not the arduousness of the

.

218 John of St. Thomas, Cursus Theologicus, Tr. de Spe, disp. 4, a. 1, 16, Formalis
ratio spei theologicae est omnipotentia auxilians, seu divinum auxilium ... quatenus constituit bonum divinum, seu beatitudinem in ratione boni ardui assequibilis.
••• Ibid., n. 9, Bonum divinum ... ut adipiscibile et arduum.
••• Tr. de Caritate, q. 28, disp.· 8, a. 1, n. 6. Formalis ratio caritatis supernaturalis est bonitas divina amanda propter seipsam ut finem fundantem communicationem sui immediatam.
221 Ibid., ·n. 8, Quatenus
volumus ipsi (Deo) bonum ut amico conviventi, et
communicanti se nobis per beatitudinem.
••• Ibid., n. 14, Sic etiam fruitio caritatis potest concupiscere Deum sibi quatenus
etiam secundario diligit se, sicut etiam quemlibet proxinmm.

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hoped-for object, nor its goodness as desirable or as lovable
with a love of desire. 223 He refutes the theory that hope is
love of desire by which we love and desire God as our own
supreme good. That love of desire, he explains, belongs to
charity inasfar as charity makes us wish to ourselves the
supreme good; it is the secondary act of charity. 224 That
love of desire for God does not make of God a means to our
happiness; according to Cajetan's distinction, we wish God to
ourselves as finem cui, but not as finem cuius gratia. 225
In his treatment of charity, Gonet does not come back ex
professo to ou:r problem, he only mentions it as an answer to
the objection: that to desire the enjoyment of the friend is
not love of friendship but love of desire. 226 He distinguishes:
the enjoyment can be sought either as our own good, or for
the sake of the friend. The first, he says, belongs to hope,
and is love of desire; the second is love of friendship, and is
charity. This may sound like Scotus, and seem to identify
hope and love of desire, but when dealing with hope he
repudiated this identification. 227
As a last witness of the Thomist tradition we quote Billuart.
The formal object of hope, he writes, is God's helping mnnipotence, that is, giving or offering help. 228 Consequently, hope
is not desire. He states this explicitly. To the objection:
The love by which we love God as our supreme good is an
223 Gonet, Clypeus Thomisticus, Tr. X, De Virtutibus Theologicis, disp. 9, a. 2,
§I, n. 47, Dico, rationem formalem spei esse omnipotentiam divinam, sive Deum
ut auxiliantem.
224 Loc. cit., § 2, n. 55. Actus, quo nobis summum bonum optamus, est quidem
amor concupiscentiae Dei, sed respectu nostri est amor benevolentiae, a caritate
elicitus in his qui habent illam.
225 Loc. cit., § 2, nn. 31-32.
Gonet may seem here to refer the love of desire
to hope (quando per spem ferimur in Deum tamquam in bonum nosh·um, sen
amore concupiscentiae), but when treating of the formal object of hope, in the
following article, he rejects the identification of hope with love of desire.
••• Loc. cit., Disp. 10, a. 1, § 2, 9.
227 Loc. cit., Licet spes quaerat et desideret visionem, et fruitionem Dei, inquantum est nobis bona et delectabilis, et idcirco non est amor amicitia.e, sed concupiscentiae.
••• Billuart, Tr. De Spe, dissert. un., a. 2, § 2, Obiectum formale spei est omnipotentia auxilians, id est praebens aut offerens auxilia.

HOPE AND CHARITY IN ST. THOMAS

347

act of hope, he answers: N ego, and explains: love is not an
act of hope, but is presupposed in hope, insofar as we hope
for only what we love.229 We recognize the traditional Thomist
idea: hope presupposes a love or desire; it is not this love.
Is the love of desire for God an act of charity? Yes, it is.
For, though charity primarily loves God as good in Himself,
yet in the second place it regards the neighbor. When then
man loves God as good to himself (for a man is to himself his
closest neighbor), this love, with regard to God, is a love of
desire, but with regard to himself, it is a love of charity, for he
loves himself for God's sake. 230 We find here again the interesting
remark, which John of St. Thomas had already made, that
the same act of love by which we desire God as our supreme
good is love of desire from one viewpoint (God is desired for
us) and love of benevolence or friendship from another (we
wish for God out of charity); its formal object is God's good
that is lovable in itself. 231 But this is at the same time love
of God as our good.232
.
We conclude these notes on the Thomist school: Faithful to
the teaching of the Angelic Doctor, except for some wavering
positions such as Cajetan's, the Thomist school has solved
our particular problem in the traditional sense: the theological
desire of union with God is an act of charity and not of hope.
Three aspects are mainly brought out: attainment of the
last end, return by the Friend of the reciprocal well-wishing,
love of self commanded by charity and expressed in the desire
of God as one's supreme good. This desire of God is the

••& Loc. cit., Amor non est actus spei, sed supponitur a spe. Cf. De Paenitentia,
diss. 4, a. 7, §4, obi. 4 inst. 1 o •
... Loc. cit., § !i!, ad !i!, Dum . . . homo amat Deum, ut sibi bonum, eius amor
respectu Dei est amor concupiscentiae, sed caritatis respectu sui. ...
231 Tr. De caritate, disp. 1, a. 8, § 1, disco 1°, Bonitas increata ut est in se et
propter se amabilis. His Tr. De Paenitentia, diss. 4, a. 7, § 1, brings out how God
is object of charity: Ut est nobis amicus seu ut redamans nos, ut nobis unitus,
seque per beatitudinem . . . nobis communicans.
••• We could still quote the Salmanticenses. For them, the formal object of hope
is, Auxilium Dei nos adiuvantis ad consequandam aeternam beatitudinem (De Spe
theol., disp. 1, dub. 8, n. 51). The desire or love for God as our own good can
in the just arise from charity: procedere ex habitu caritatis (Loc. cit., disp. !i!, 89).

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P. DE LETTER

secondary but necessary act of charity. It is extrinsic to hope
which is reliance on God's helping omnipotence. The disinterestedness of charity, necessary to all friendship as well,
does not require that the wish for union with the Friend be
absent from it. This, moreover, is impossible.
Since the Thoinist revival in the last quarter of the nineteenth century, a marked return to the traditional concept of
hope and charity and a parallel decline of the more widespread
Scotist-Suarezian ideas has set in. A few indications will
suffice to bear this out.
Three Jesuit theologians, Ballerini, Palmieri, and Schiffini,
agree in excluding the desire of God from the second theological
virtue. They conceive hope as reliance on God's helping
omnipotence. The theological desire of God they place in
charity. Schiffini, for example, proves a thesis: "The adequate
objective motive on which theological hope principally leans
is God's helping power, that is, God's omnipotence and mercy
bound by His promise." 233 Parallel with this goes his idea
of charity; he finds place in it for the theological love of desire
of God: " The love of desire by which we wish God to ourselves,
if it is originated by the infinite perfection according to which
God is the final object of our beatitude, is to be considered as
an act elicited by charity, not its primary but its secondary
act." 234 In other words, when the desire of God is theological,
it is the secondary act of charity. This is exactly the position
of the Thomist school.
Scheeben, " the greatest Catholic theologian of the 19th
century," follows the same Thomist teaching. 0£ hope he
says: " Though hope is connected with desire, yet it is not
itself properly a desire; it is rather confidence, the trust to
attain really and surely the desired object. This trust is
properly the formal element in hope which distinguishes it
••• S. Schiffini, De Virtutibus, th. 27. Motivum obiectivum adaequatum, quo
spes theologica principaliter innititur, est virtus Dei auxiliatrix ....
••• Op. cit., th. 84, Concupiscentiae ille amor, quo Deum nobis optamus, si principaliter excitetur ex ipsa infinita perfectione . . . habendus est ut actus a caritate
elicitus ....

HOPE AND CHARITY IN ST. THOMAS

349

from charity." 235 When he considers the three theological
virtues synthetically, he explains: "As the proper principle
of the God-like life, or of the virtus theologica, appears :in
faith the lumen fidei which effects the adhesion to the eternal
Truth; in hope the virtus confidendi which effects the adhesion
to God's omnipotence; and in charity the mysterious ardour
which effects the adhesion to the supreme Good." 286
Closer to us we find the same idea of hope in Mausbach
who says: " The essential element in hope is not desire as such,
but the confidence that builds on this desire, that is, a strong
impetus of the will towards the attainment of a high goal
(bonum arduum) .287 Zimara's study on hope, quoted already,
concludes a historical survey of the doctrines on hope by
saying: The only proper act of hope is confidence in the
attainment of the beatific possession of God. The same is
held by J. de Guibert, in his last work posthumously published,
and he had already exposed these ideas on hope and charity
in his Etudes de Theologie Mystique. 238 The article on Charite,
in the Dictionnaire de Spiritualite, to which we referred
repeatedly, shows a return to the Thomist concept of charity in
its systematic part signed by G. de Broglie. " Charity is
the fundamental affective movement by which the supernaturalized soul adheres to God and tends towards its last
end." 239 " Deceptive is the anthropomorphic mirage which
claims to oppose to each other the love of God/and the love
self as two essentially antagonistic attitudes . . . When
we say that the love of God and the love of the spiritual self
coincide with each other, we equivalently identify the love
of God with the active tendency of a spiritual subject towards
the end for which it is actually destined. This idea, as we
••• Scheeben, Natur und Gnade (edit. Grabmann,
., Munich 1985), p. 276.
••• Scheeben, Handbuch der Dogmatik, IT, 8 Buch, § 167, n. 786.
••• Mausbach, Katholische Moraltheologie, 2 Bd., I T., quoted in Zimara, op. cit.,
pp. 289 fl'.
••• J. de Guibert, Etudes de TMologie Mystique, p. 245. Legons de TMologie
Spirituelle, Tom. 1 (Toulouse 1946), pp. 159 f.
••• G. de Broglie, art. Charite in Diet. de Spir., 2, 661-62.

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P. DE LETTER

know, Is fundamental both in St. Augustine and in St.
Thomas." 240
The gist of M. d'Arcy's recent book on The Mind and Heart
of Love is to bring out an identical concept of love. His study
refutes Nygren's thesis on Agape and Eros which declared the
two loves, self-regarding and
radically and
irreconcilably opposed, and made of the one the deformed
and adulterated concept of charity found in Catholicism, and
of the other the pure Christian idea of love preserved in
protestant faith. 241 Father d'Arcy shows that, "Eros and
Agape are not enemies but friends." They must go together
and they do so in any well-ordered love. The clue for their
synthesis he finds in the idea of personality: " Even though
the primary joy of the finite love of God is to be possessed
by God, we are entitled by the gift of personality to possess God
ourselves to some degree . . . There is no reason why this
happiness (complete satisfaction in seeing God) should not
be combined with self-surrender, so long as we give priority
to the latter ... There is the sheer giving of ecstatic happiness in being possessed by everlasting love, and concomitantly
with this and fusing with it the joy of possessing God as He
is by means of the beatific vision." 242 All this is undoubtedly
a marked return to the traditional concept of St. Augustine
and St. Thomas. Of hope we have fewer indications. The
Dictionnaire de Spiritualite just mentioned has not yet
published its article on hope. Perhaps we may see the traditional teaching on hope as confidence in the laboriously sought
and expressed formula of a Catholic existentialist, Gabriel
Marcel, who winds up a study on hope with the "following
definition: "Hope is essentially the readiness or disposability
of a soul which is implicated in the experience of a communion
with another, deeply enough to posit the act that will transcend
the opposition of willing and knowing and in which act the
••• Ibid., 664 .
.. , A. Nyg!en, Agape and Eros, a. study of the christian idea of love, trans!. A.
G. Herbert and P. S. Watson, 8 vols. (London 1982-89).
••• M. d'Arcy, op. cit., 804 and 278.

HOPE AND CHARITY IN ST. THOMAS

351

soul affirms the living perennity of which its present experience
offers both the pledge and the beginning." 243 Perhaps we
may translate: Hope is the reliance on another, which makes
it possible for a man to effectively strive after the end which
he desires but which he knows to be unattainable for him when
he is left to himself. The very act of this trusting surrender
to the other gives the certainty and begins already the union
which is the last goal.
Are we not entitled at the close of these rapid historical
notes to conclude: · For St. Thomas as for the traditional
teaching before and after him (except only for the ScotistSuarezian school) , the solution of our problem, whether the
desire of union with God belongs to hope or to charity or to
neither of these, is that this desire is the secondary but
necessary act of charity. Hope is trust in God's helping
omnipotence and does not include this desire.
If, then, we wish to summarize St. Thomas' teaching on the
relation of the desire of God to hope and charity, we could
say as follows:
1) Hope is seated in the will which is the power of tendency
and of love. It supematuralizes a love. Under which aspect?
Not by being a love itself, but by rendering possible the most
fundamental act of the will, namely, the actual volition or
the effective love of the last end. This it does by making
unto its own, in trust, God's helping omnipotence. This
reliance on God's help is the formal act of hope.
2) Yet hope presupposes a desire or love of God (just
as in the sensitive appetite all acts of the irascible power
presuppose the act of the concupiscible, love or desire), because
hope expects only what is good. In this sense it perfects or
••• G. Marcel, Homo Viator (Paris 1947), pp. 90-91. L'esperance est essentiellement ... la disponibilite d'une ame assez intimement engagee dans une experience
de communion pour accomplir l'acte transcendant a !'opposition du vouloir et du
connaitre par lequel elle affirme la perennite vivante dont cette experience offre
a la fois le gage et les premices.-In our comment on this description we intentionally bring out the element of confidence, without thus giving to the viewpoint
expressed by the author its own originality.

P. DE LETTER

raises the will in its love of. desire and not strictly in its love of
friendship. This imperfect love of desire for God (in a man
without charity) is an incipient charity, imperfectly theological
as it is imperfectly charity.
3) Charity itself is the theological virtue which supernaturalizes all that properly belongs to the love of God. It
is the effective volition of the last end sought in communion.
As such it is primarily a love of well-wishing and surrender
to the friend. But it is as necessarily, though subordinately,
a love of desire, the desire to attain God the final Goal, or the
wish of the Friend's presence. This union with God is of
necessity an enrichment for the lover; yet it is essentially theological, the last end being sought for its own sake.
4) And so the theological desire of God, in its incipient
and imperfect stage, precedes hope; but in its perfect form,
when it is no longer inj01mis but enlivened by sanctifying
grace, it follows on hope and is charity. At none of its
successive stages of growth, however, is this desire of God
hope. This is the trust of the pilgrim on his way to God and
relying on God Himself to reach Him, the final Goal.

P. DE LETTER, s. J.
St. Marys' OoUege,
Kursermg, India.

INTERNATIONAL CASUISTICS

H

UMAN actions and intentions at all the levels of
interest and value, must be judged according to the
basic norms of ethics. This is the case also for factual
situations and probable events involving deliberate volitions.
In order to ensure the correctness of our judgments and our
decisions, we must observe jointly the requirements of several
virtues. Now, an exhaustive analysis of all human virtues
has been made along general lines, as well as with regard to
special cases of conscience. But it has not been formally
extended yet to cover fully all acts of nations. This may be
accounted for partly by historical and partly by practical
considerations.
When the Christian nations were closer to the Chair of Peter
and looked to its wisdom and prestige for world-leadership,
it was customary for the Pope to pass final judgments on their
acts and their ambitions. His words, heavy with fatherly
righteousness and penitential power, actually bound the conscience of rulers and nations alike; to the Roman Pontiff were
left ultimate decisions affecting peace or strife among Christians, and even between Christians and Infidels as history
shows. Hence theologians hardly dared to go beyond such
Papal pronouncements, by establishing a positive political
doctrine for their justification. As their immediate duty was
to guide men towards God and eternal life, and to protect the
purity of Christian doctrines and traditions, they· were concerned mainly if not only with the analysis and appreciation
of human actions from a strictly individual, rather than from
a national or international point of view.
This situation explains why the Doctors of the Church failed
to think of a positive law, which would bind nations together
353
4

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THOMAS GREENWOOD

by drawing distinctions between good and evil on a collective
level. The eternal law being recognized as the ultimate foundation of all relations between nations, they judged from first
principles any particular case affecting two or more nations.
In so doing, they centered their doctrinal discussions concerning
political matters on the state as such and more particularly
on its ruler, rather than on the well-being of the family of
nations as the expression of the common good.
The age of geographical discoveries and conquests having
brought the Christians into contact with the less civilized
peoples of America, it became expedient to state expressly
the moral rules of their mutual relations. This led the great
Dominican theologian, Francisco Vitoria, to develop the idea
of a law of nations (jus gentium) which he defines as "the
rule which natural reason has set up among nations." To
be sure, he went beyond the concept of the independence of
nations, which had been generally held before him, by stressing
the wider principle of the interdependence of nations forming
a natural society. Thus, 'he gave the broad lines of a moral
theology of nations, by expressing the ethical structure of this
natural society in a set of positive rules derived from first
principles. These Christian foundations of the law of nations
have influenced all subsequent thinkers, even those with a
positivistic outlook, who helped strengthen and develop such
a system of rules binding nations together, by analyzing and
defining their mutual rights and obligations.
Today, the distinction between
and evil influences
international relations more and more, as governments and
citizens show a growing interest in the moral worth of acts of
nations. The Roman Pontiffs encourage constantly this moral
awareness, with lofty pronouncements on the conditions of a
universal peace. On their part, governments endeavor to
establish binding rules by which their mutual obligations are
to be determined, and to prescribe ways and means for the
proper discharge of these obligations. Various academic institutions and civic associations help to foster interest and

INTERNATIONAL

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855

understanding among the public for these worthy and vital
questions.
To be sure, the new law of charity expressed by Our Lord,
now takes a wider connotation when extended to nations.
By enjoining His disciples to "go and teach all nations," 1
He allows us to think of the nations as such, as worthy of
His dogmatic revelations and moral counsels. Indeed, nations
will be judged as such, according to the prophet: " He shall
judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people . . .
Nation shall not lift up its sword against another nation." 2
And this justice of God with respect to the many nations, is
beautifully envisioned by St. John the Seer when he confides:
" He showed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal,
proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb. In
the. midst of the street of it and on either side of the river was
there the tree of life ... and the leaves of the tree were for
the healing of the nations." 3 Yes, the law of charity and
justice binds also the nations according to their kind. So
that the greater realization of the material unity of the world
today, makes it imperative for the theologian, the moralist,
the legislator, and the statesman, to combine their knowledge
and their experiences in order to make the world abide by the
expressed code of conduct illustrated by this dutiful remark
of the sacred historian: " God who made the world and all
things therein ... hath made of one blood all nations of men." 4
Hence, it is worthy and desirable that there be universal
agreement about the general norms for judging the actions
of nations. The present relativity of such norms is one of the
basic reasons for the miseries of the world today. For they
breed injustice and intolerance between nations, by encouraging
the sinful inclinations of men, and by allowing egoistic and
conflicting interpretations of common rules of intercourse.
Thus, the necessity of national survival narrowly or wrongly
interpreted, often drives nations to make decisions and rulings
harmful to the individual conscience and to international life.
1

9

Matt., xxviii, 19.
Isaiah, ii, 4.

3 Revelation, ·xxii, 1-2.
• Acts, xvii, 24-26.

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THOMAS GREENWOOD

There is a further difficulty to consider. Even nations which
may acknowledge the universal rules of conduct based on the
eternal law may find reasons to differ among themselves on
the actual interpretation and application of these norms to
particular cases. Thus a statesman conscious of the binding character of these ethical rules, may be up against one or the other
of four types c;>f difficulties, which could affect his own stand
on given situations. He may have to allow for the official
or the personal ideology of the other statesman he has to deal
with. He may have to compromise with the national psychology of his own and other nations, a psychology which is
usually rooted in long traditions and historic memories resulting in fixed customs and procedures. He may have to take
into account the irreconciliable and exaggerated claims of
nations suffering from the shock of a recent war or of other
tragic circumstances. Finally, he may have to face the discontent of nations frustrated in their efforts to coordinate
efficient. means for the pacification of the world. In all these
circumstances, ideal solutions based on perfect norms and
imposed despotically may cause in fact more harm than would
practical measures suggested by imperfect rules ·and applied
provisionally by common consent ..
On the strength of these considerations, coupled with the
experiences of statesmen engrossed with international decisions,
it becomes a duty for the moralist to establish an international
casuistics in the form of organized rules for a casuistical
analysis of acts of nations in so far as they are effective both
within and beyond their borders. To such acts should be
applied properly the rules and procedures which ordinary
casuistics uses when considering the actions of individuals
or personal cases of conscience. Thus the acts of nations
could be judged according to practical and special norms of
morality, with the further purpose of assuring the peace of
mind of responsible individuals, and of counseling persons or
groups about the discharge of public duties affecting international relations and the common good.
At the present time, the elaboration of an International

INTERNATIONAL

CASUISTICS

357

Casuistics becomes an urgent necessity. Because the actual
circumstances of the world, in their permanent and their
transitory aspects, do often induce statesmen and public opinion to deviate from the strict norms of natural ethics and moral
theology, even with the best intentions to do the good. They
are thus left with little means to strive for better solutions and
express themselves accordingly, under conflicting pressures
and circumstances beyond their control. Futhermore, they
find it difficult if not impossible to discover those particular
precepts which would cover such individual situations and
put at ease their conscience, thus encouraging them to take
steps for their improvement.
Some moralists have called attention to such a need at least
in a theoretical way, though most of them have ignored it, and
though none had thought of meeting it formally. The question
has been stated in the Dictionnaire de Theologie Catholique
in the following terms: " Why should scientific casuistics neglect
this' (international) portion of the field of ethics, especially
at this time when such questions are diligently analyzed,
mostly in the framework of sciences which are either independant of ethics or deliberately opposed to religious ideas? . . .
Has casuistics the right to restrict its investigations to the
most current subjects of individual confessions? ... Here again,
we would act wisely by returning to ancient theological traditions regretfully disregarded, and by widening the horizon of
casuistics beyond the more pressing needs of the confessional." 5
Obviously, moralists are thus encouraged to attempt an elaboration of an International Casuistics, as we beg leave to call
this new field of moral theology.
The burden of our inquiry will be to state precisely the
spirit, the criteria, the method and the difficulties· of International Casuistics. Before doing so, however, it may be
useful to submit some general propositions on the common
good, which is the foundation as well as the aim· of the moral
and political ideas which we propose to organize in the frame6

Art. Casuistique (col. 1863) E. Dublanchy.

858

THOMAS GREENWOOD

work of theology as an International Casuistics. For all
political actions must be motivated ultimately by the common
good, as they aim at the happiness of human societies.
PROLOGUE:

THE TEMPORAL CoMMON GooD

The awareness of the common good in choosing between
alternatives of action, assumes or requires an understanding
of its proper nature in order to be effective.6 Metaphysics
in its own way deals with the good in itself; theology analyzes
the relations of all created beings to the fulness of divine
goodness. With their help, we can prove why and how the
supreme good, or God, is the real and final end of man. With
the same means, we can fix clearly the distinction between the
spiritual and the temporal good; and guide ethics in working
out a hierarchy of goods, through which runs the indispensable
axis of the supreme good sustaining them all.
The spiritual common good as such is common to all persons
and must be loved and desired by every one of them, on
account of the immortality and spiritual destiny of the human
soul. As such, it is not the immediate objective of practical
politics. But it cannot be absolutely ignored in political considerations, for it transcends the temporal common good in
general, and consequently the direct or
end of the
state and of civil society. Indeed, it involves God Himself
and His creation in an extended way, namely the natural
rights of man, of society, and of His Church. As Pope Leo
Xlli says, " The enjoyment of this common good is common
to all men in human society, and can not be restricted specifically to individuals, classes, races, or nations." 7 The meaning
of this text is clear; it is therefore to this spiritual common
6 As our purpose here is to discuss certain moral and political ideas with a
practical objective, we shall restrict ourselves to expanding a few traditional
statements on the common good. Hence, we shall neither mention the recent
controversies among Scholastic writers concerning the common good, nor shall
we set forth a detailed theory of this most fundamental conce11t for the philosophy
of nations.
7 Leo Xill, Encyclical Cum Multa, Dec. 8, 1882.

INTERNATIONAL

CASUISTICS

859

good that all other goods are subordinate. This proposition,
which is frequently repeated in pontifical documents, :has
always been affirmed by Christian tradition and implied in
the perennial policy of the Holy See.
But even if the Fathers and Doctors of the Church conceived and determined the hierarchy of goods, they spoke
only in general of the temporal common good and offered no
definite theory concerning it, since none was called for explicitly
by the political conditions of their times. St. Thomas perceived
the general good of humanity theoretically; but he treated
specifically only of the common good and the Christian virtues.
In the Summa Theologica, where he deals at length with
prudence, he enumerates three temporal goods: those of the
individual, the family, and the city or nation; but he makes no
mention at all of a universal temporal good.8 Consequently,
the Angelic· Doctor does not speak of a positive international
law in which he would naturally include and define that good.
It is true that the principle of both these concepts is implied
in his theological view of creation, as when he says that the
eternal law is radiated in the mind in forms of evident imperative and morally compulsory principles. 9 But St. Thomas
sees the positive law only in relation to the civil community,
whereas the natural law is concerned with the entire human
family. It is clear that he distinguishes between the natural
and the positive law, as they differ in the importance and scope
of their directives. 10 What is primary in one is secondary in the
other. However he does not include the entire human race
within the limits of the positive law. He ventures only so
far as to discern a certain principle of nationalities and mutual
relations between them. Thus, he says that in every nation
there is an order of the citizens to foreigners, and that this
8 Summa Tkeol., IT-IT, q. 47 10, The individual common good is immposible without the common good of the family, state, or kingdom.
• Ibid., 1-11, q. 98, a.!!, Every knowledge of truth is a kind of reflection and
participation of the natural law . . • and all men in this respect are more or
·
less cognizant of the eternal law.
10 Ibid., q. 99, a. 8; q. 100, a.!!.

860

THOMAS GREENWOOD

order is regulated by law.11 Here again it is with the individual
nation that the law is concerned.
The Dominican theologian Pierre d' Auvergne explains the
thought of his master as follows: " It pertains to the legislator to consider whether there are neighboring cities, and
to learn about their dispositions. He should see whether they
are strong or divided; whether they are civilized or not. Then,
having compared their conditions with those of his own city,
he should determine the nature of the relations to establish
with them." 12 It is readily seen that the question is one of
relations between one multitude and another, of one nation
making laws or special regulations concerning others, according
to the peculiar state of each, and not with a vision of a really
general good. All things considered, it must be said that St.
Thomas and his immediate disciples did not visualize a relationship between two or more nations as being effected by a
higher organization that would bind them together positively.
The Spanish Dominican writer, Francisco de Vitoria, was
-the first to mention formally the common good of the world
(bonum orbis) which is intimately connected with the natural
law and the law of nations. 13 This universal common good
underlies and regulates all intercourse between nations, in
particular the right of trading and the right of access to basic
raw materials. Whereas earlier writers made much of the
independence of nations, Vitoria insists on their interdependence
as members of a "natural society." 14 To be sure, he defines
the law of nations as a " natural reason among peoples; " 15
and he goes so far as to take the universal good as a criterion
for a just war. 16 Thereafter, the temporal common good and
n Ibid., q.l04, a. 4; In every people a fourfold order is- to be found: one of
the people's sovereign to his subjects; a second of the subjects among themselves;
a third of the citizens to foreigners; a fourth of members of the same household.
Cf. also Summa Theol., ll-ll, qq. 41, 4!!.
12 Comm. Polit., lib. VII, lect. !!.
13 Theologicae Relectiones (edit. 1686) De bulis J>p. 886-891.
14 Ibid., De India, p. 886.
15 Ibid., p. 888.
16 Ibid., De Potestate Civili, pp. !!08-!!04.

INTERNATIONAL

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361

its expression in a set of international laws have been the
subject of learned studies and practical considerations. Though
the Reformation gave a positivist character to these efforts,
the Vitorian tradition continued to influence Christian jurists
and blossomed with full brilliance in the teaching of the modern
Popes.
With the division of Christendom brought about by the
Protestant Revolt, it was difficult for any practical ideas
relative to a universal common good to come into the open.
To be sure, the founders of theoretical international law, who
came after the followers of Vitoria and Suarez, such as Grotius
Gentilis, Zouch, Puflendor£, Wolf or Wattel, did attach their
principles of a law of nations to an ideology implying a certain
common good. But they especially and continually emphasized the " natural " aspect of that good and of the international
law that it justified; and they ignored systematically its elements of spirituality which were consistently held by the
papacy and the Catholic world. Hence, they tried to secure
peace among nations by means of pragmatic considerations
that did not always bind in conscience. Moreover, the chief
artisans of international law never proposed for it a code
clearly defined in its details, nor did they ever encourage a
moral and political criticism of the significant events of their
time. The :reason for these omissions is that they were not clear
about the specific notion and implications of the universal
common good.
On the eve of the first Conference of the Hague, it was
found desirable for the participating nations to have a common
understanding about certain points, in drafting :rules for international relations. To that end, questions emanating from the
imperial court of Russia were proposed to Leo XIII, who
gave some pertinent directives. After that, the natural and the
spiritual aspects of the common good tended to come closer
together in the meditations of many writers. With Benedict
XV, Pius XI, and Pius XII especially, these directives were
further elaborated. To be sure, Roman Pontiffs make it their

862

THOMAS GREENWOOD

duty to insist on the true appreciation of the common good
as being the foundation and the final cause of international
order.
Hence, we should tum towards the Popes, who express the
living tradition of the Church, in order to become acquainted
with the proper trends and needs of the time. Here are some
clear declarations of Pius Xll regarding the universal common
good: "The whole world feels the need of a rebirth of order.
What is the ambition of statesmen? Is it not to secure the
common good in an atmosphere of temporal order in harmony
with the eternal and supernatural order?" 17 On another
occasion he refers more precisely to the international order,
when he affirms that " among men as among peoples, individual desires will never coincide with the common good." 18
This vision of the universal common good appears in all his
pontifical declarations; and those which refer more particularly
to the national order may be easily interpreted in a wider plane.
In his first encyclical Pius XII affirms: "It is the noble
prerogative and function of the state to control, aid, and direct
the private and individual activities of national life, so that they
converge harmoniously towards the common good. That good
can neither be defined according to arbitrary ideas nor can it
accept for its standard primarily the material prosperity of
society; but rather it should be defined according to the harmonious development and the natural perfection of man. It
is for this perfection that society is desigiied by the Creator
as a means." 19 Consequently, the first obligation of the state
is to promote the common good. But in so doing, it must be
careful not to harm individual or family rights, social justice,
or the rights of other nations.
Indeed the common good of the state does not imply a power
over society so extensive that public authority should intervene
17 Pius XII, Allocution of Sept.
to the Members of Italian Catholic
Action.
18 Pius XII, Allocution Noi Potrermo, June
1940.
19 Pius XII, Encyclical Summi PontificatUll, Oct.
1989.

INTERNATIONAL

CASUISTICS

868

in the exercise of the natural rights of man. 20 The state therefore, must not absorb all the activities of individuals or families,
" who should be permitted to retain their liberty of action,
so far as this is possible without jeopardizing the common
good and without injuring anyone." 21 Likewise, the common
good of the state demands that the freedom and rights of
small nations be respected by the more powerful ones, for all
should share in the material and spiritual good.22 As to social
justice, Pius XI teaches the common good should be taken as
the norm of social justice, guiding the relations of capital and
labour in accordance with commutative justice. 23 In a wider
sense, " the common good in the temporal order consists in
that peace and security in which families and individual citizens
have the free exercise of their rights, and at the same time
enjoy the greatest spiritual and temporal prosperity possible
in this life, by the mutual union and coordination of the work
of all." 24
It would be easy to .transpose these wide directives on the
international level; and such an endeavour would correspond
perfectly with the papal intentions. Its necessity becomes
evident by the pressure of international events, and by the
universal recognition of a temporal good which goes beyond
national borders. In order to effect this transposition, it suffices
to weld_the papal declarations to the common teaching of traditional philosophy regarding the universal good. Even then,
the precise meaning of the term temporal common good is
difficult for all to grasp. Yet it should be simple enough in
itself to allow an elucidation of its implications.
Paraphrasing the excellent definition given by the Dominican
moralist, Rev. J. T. Delos, 0. P., the universal common good
is what determines a set of rules, relations, and institutions
which facilitate and insure a cooperation among all states with
20 Pius XII, Discourse La SoUmita; June 1, 1941.
""Leo XIII, Encyclical Rerum N ovarum, May 15, 1891.
" 2 Pius XII, Christmas radio address, Nell' Alba, Dec. 24, 1941.
n Pius XI, Encyclical Quadragesimo Anno, May 15, 1981.
••Pius XI, Encyclical Rappresen:tantiin TM'I'a, Dec. 81,

364

THOMAS GREENWOOD

justice and charity. 25 This set is more or less complete, more
or less coordinated, more or less compulsory. Owing to the
vicissitudes in the life of nations caused by changes in national
and international circumstances, this set is continually enriched
and refined, without ever becoming identified with its essence.
This universal or temporal common good is the end of the
whole human society, just as the national good is the end of
each particular human society. Hence, there is a -relation of
finality between the family of nations and the temporal common
good. Now, natural human society, though still unorganized,
is based on the social needs of man; it is not established by
mere pragmatic rules suggested by an imperative desire of
avoiding international chaos. Consequently, its common good
as the final cause and purpose of human society is anterior
to any international organization. As such, it must be used
to define and establish the principles of international intercourse.
The temporal common good _in its fulness is not identical
with a purely material good, even less with its own material
advantages. It is rather the collective good of men, distributed
in national groups, with their essential characteristics as physical, rational, social, moral and religious beings. The excellence
of this collective good, which is verified mainly in the political
order, includes the various aspects of man in the sense that
both the national and the international communities are bound
to safeguard those goods as well as the conditions favouring
their pursuit by individual men. But it amplifies the individual
good generally, insofar as one who is conscious of the temporal
common good can not satisfy fully the conditions of his own
salvation, unless one fulfils somehow his duty towards that
collective temporal good.
Some systems of political philosophy eliminate the religious
character of man with its consequences, and reduce morality
to something arbitrary, conventional, or pragmatic. This
s•" Christian Principles and International Relations " in International Relatiorl$
from a Catholic Standpoint, p. 49.

INTERNATIONAL

CASUISTICS

865

profound ideological difference explains the difficulties of the
powers in making binding agreements about definite points
of international cooperation. It is also the reason why the
Pontiffs urge that governments, before making contracts or
treaties, should have an understanding about principles. Otherwise, as history shows, an arbitrary interpretation of the letter
of a treaty might lead a signatory to refuse its execution.
Emphasis must also be laid on the unity of the temporal
common good, which is essentially one. It is not an arithmetical set or a sum of particular goods, but a unique integration sui generis which contains but surpasses them all in the
temporal order. Therefore, it is not the particular good of
any nation which may be distinctly recognized as such, and
it cannot admit any particular good as a substitute. The
temporal common good is other than the goods ordered to it.
Yet its primacy over the national, family, or individual good,
does not place it in opposition to them. Just as evil often
assumes an aspect of the good, in the same way the common
good appears sometimes to be opposed to certain particular
aspects of the national, family, or individual good, when in
fact these aspects are defects covered by false appearances.
In short, whatever may be the level considered, the good is
always something positive and well adapted to the circumstances of that level.
Finally, the temporal common good enriches all of its subordinates in the sense already specified, just as it receives
from the supreme good the value it communicates to them.
Ascending in the hierarchy of temporal common goods, there
is an orderly amplification of value; from the individual to
the fainily, to the nation, to the entire human race, the common
good is gradually amplified until it reaches its maximum in the
temporal common good. ·Hence, there is no elimination of good
at any of these levels; on the contrary, the common good
increases the value of its subordinate goods by giving them a
greater fulness. 26 As St. Thomas says, the common good of
"" Sum'11Ul Theol., II-II, q. 47, a. 10, ad

366

THOMAS GREENWOOD

many is more "Godlike" than that of the individual, 27 which
implies an orderly subordination of all goods to God.
This subordination is quite reasonable and natural. As
regards the individual, his ultimate end is God; hence the twofold commandment " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God, and
thy neighbor as thyself." Man can not attain that end, unless
he observes at all levels the obligations of his state and attributes. If a conflict arises between one level and another, its
correct settlement demands the safeguarding of his union with
God, and not the saving of any particular good. This is
why it is permissible to sacrifice one's body to save one's soul,
or for the sake of values indispensable for one's salvation. The
Christian understands that the immediate sacrifice of his body
is only temporary, since its resurrection is a part of his full
and eternal reward. The complete human person, rather· than
a merely material good, must be saved for eternity: hence
the eventual sacrifice of a temporal individual good to the
temporal common good which has a higher value, when there
is a circumstantial conflict between them for the sake of one's
eternal salvation. Thus personalism justifies the primacy of
the temporal common good.
Indeed the eternal salvation of the person demands a respect
for the temporal common good. The loss of immediate advantages does not necessarily entail the destruction of the person.
There is no question here of sacrificing the person as such to
the temporal common good; but rather of allowing for his
salvation the . sacrifice of particular aspects of his individual
or national good. Here again, the primacy of the common
good enhances rather than weakens personalism in its integral
meaning which implies the ultimate end of man.
What is true for the individual is true for the nation, as
His Holiness, Pius XII, also recalls. Indeed, the ultimate
level of the temporal common good is not the nation, though
earlier philosophers did not go beyond it in their positive
considerations about the common good. As an· men are
""Ibid., II-11, q. Sl, -a. S, ad

INTERNATIONAL

CASUISTICS

867

children of God, the obligation of charity knows no frontiers.
In the past, the Church reminded nations of the implications
of this duty, when she excommunicated princes and absolved
their subjects of their allegiance, and when she urged a nation
to take part in a just war, or to refuse its aid in an unjust war.
In a conflict between the material good of a nation and the
universal common good, the former must be sacrificed to the
latter, in order to satisfy the divine plan of creation, which
is essentially good. However, this is not always the case in
practice, because sin may confuse the mind of the leaders of
a nation, and motivate wrong and harmful decisions, which
may serve immediately what appears to be a strictly national
good. The main difficulty in most practical cases is to determine each time what is the true particular or national go.od,
J
and to state precisely how either of them differs from a superior
good. Habits acquired under the influence of nationalist beliefs
based on doubtful principles often prevent thinkers from
realizing and appreciating the hierarchy of goods, the primacy
of the common good, its
with the person and his
salvation, and finally the special obligations it entails for
individuals and nations.
Many doubts and confusions would be eliminated if we
could determine precisely some signs or marks, by which the
common good could be recognized as such. Perhaps we could
suggest in this respect two mutually supporting attributes.
The one denotes the common good as that which preserves
peace and order among nations, by means which respect the
natural rights of individuals and nations. The other denotes
further what favors economic, social, and cultural progress,
through just and efficient collective institutions. Both can
be easily justified.
Peace, to begin with, is necessary to the common good.
Tranquility, order, concord, harmony of wills-all these positive concepts are included in the notion of the common good.
But it is not so with negative concepts, such as armistice, which
aim at the common good and call for it without being a part

368

THOMAS GREENWOOD

of it. Moreover, in forming and applying the positive concepts
already mentioned, one must have an honest and upright regard
for the fundamental rights of individuals and nations. In short,
the true common good entails the practice ofjustice and charity
without which it cannot be reached.
Furthermore the collective character of the means necessary
to the realization of the. common good is also an essential
element of its notion. Otherwise, the will of one or a few
nations might· be imposed arbitrarily on the others against
their fundamental rights. Universal consent, tacit or implicit,
alone confirms the collective character of the means. Hence
the theory and practice of laissez-faire are incompatible with
the common good. For every right has a corresponding obligation; by neglecting onerous obligations the laissez faire
policy defeats the claims of the international good. To be sure,
the acceptance of collective means entails automatically
a voluntary limitation of certain rights. Without a proper
adjustment of the just aspirations and needs of each nation the
genuine international common good could not be reached,
though some narrower good might be achieved.
If we now tum to the essential conditions of the common
good, we find that there are subjective and objective conditions.
Among the former is the observance, by rulers and heads of
state, of virtues such as justice and charity which promote and
render efficacious ·proper pacts between states. Otherwise,
bargaining and cunning prompted by particular goods may
result 'in agreements on some temporary good at the expense
of the permanent good sought by all nations.
The objective conditions of the common good cover the
ability to judge the acts of nations, the authority and power
to determine equitable laws and rules for all, and the possibility to enforce their observance through definite sanctions.
These ·conditions are also those of the organization of international life. Without such an organization, a nation may
improperly conceive the common good and justify an action
by appealing to a superior good not explicitly specified within
the accepted rules of international life. In most cases this

INTERNATIONAL

CASUISTICS

369

superior good is conceived in the narrow perspective of a
national interest. This error wouid be avoided when the
objective conditions of the common good are freely desired and
actually accepted by all nations.
During the last fifty years, individuals and nations have
become more and more aware of these questions. After the
two Hague Conventions and the parallel efforts of the Ambassadors Conference and of other international groups, the League
of Nations was established, and tbe procedure of the International Court of Justice determined. But this organization
was neither supported by a codified international law, nor
strengthened by a system of effective sanctions. These
deficiencies were aggravated by the absence or relativity of the
subjective conditions of the common good, as manifested. by
most political leaders and governments.
Stirred by the miseries of the last war and by the hopes of
a lasting peace, the world has awakened to the needs and
realities of international legislation, and its leaders have shown
a desire to meet and respect them collectively. As a result we
have had a series of international declarations and agreements,
which culminated in 1945 in the important decisions of the
San Francisco Conference. Taking into account the experi.ences of the League of Nations, and the lofty peace objectives
affirmed by sucn international instruments as the Atlantic
Charter, the victorious nations succeeded in establishing a World
Charter, which implies to a large extent the objective conditions
of the common good.28 But all these endeavours fall short of
relative perfection, insofar as they ignore deliberately the
necessity of the subjective conditions of the
good,
as required for the establishment of a true peace.
In spite of such capital shortcomings, however, the efforts
of the nations responsible for the World Charter have l;>een
commended expressly or implicitly by the Catholic Church,
which supports all sincere attempts to organize the temporal
•• Cf. The World Charta, and other pamphlets issued by the Catholic Association of International Peace (Washington). Also, Catholics and the Hope of San
Francisco by Rev. Graham S. J. (America, New York).

5

870

GREENVVOOD

good. But in doing so, it reminds the faithful of two obligations.
The first is the moral duty of nations to promote the common
good, just as every citizen has the moral duty to work for the
common good of the nation. Therefore, the social education
of citizens should strive to extend their national horizon, by
making them aware of their duty to help their nation adjust
or subordinate its legitimate interests to the universal good.
Various means can be used to fulfil this idea.
The second obligation concerns the sacrifices involved in
actions favouring the common good. As His Holiness Pius XII
declares " the State is often compelled to ask from all classes
heavy sacrifices for the common good." 29 This duty may be
required not only by the national, but also by the international
common good. Just as the whole good of man sometimes
demands the sacrifice of a purely physical good in protecting
a moral good, and more so a supernatural good, thus certain
sacrifices may be expected from individual citizens for the
protection of a higher social good. Hence we face again our
initial question of the subjective conditions of the common
good, without which, as recent experiences show, the world
will be never ready to proclaim and defend permanently a
real peace.
To be sure, here is the basic cause of the current misunderstandings between the great powers, which takes the form
of a so-called" cold-war," until the bitterness thus accumulated
leads to either an armed clash or to a peaceful anti-climax.
During the second world-war the material cooperation between
the Allies gave hopes that their common miseries would bring
about a change of heart, from petty considerations to a real
international cooperation. These hopes having been dashed
to the ground, an unavoidable intercourse between potential
adversaries has to be carried on, while official peace prevails.
As has always been the case in history, men of good will
thus have and will have to practice material cooperation with
29 Response Las Polabras, made
June 16, 1989, to the new Ambassador of
Bolivia.

INTERNATIONAL

871

CASUISTICS

a set of political leaders motivated by objectionable ideals.
The analysis and moral estimation of their actions in such
particular patterns are the proper and formal subjects of
international casuistics, and make imperative the organization
and conscious use of such an important :field of moral theology.
I.

THE NATURE OF INTERNATIONAL

CASUISTICS

Divine law makes all individual and collective acts relevant
to moral theology. Hence, a comprehensive casuistics must
cover all concrete acts involving good and evil. To be sure,
moralists have considered cases of international ethics and more
particularly of national morality, with respect to aliens. But,
in practice, the technical business of casuistics has consisted
so far in discussing individual acts and some specific cases of
political action. Therefore, it is high time to extend the spirit
and method of casuistics to the acts of nations as such, inasmuch as not only individuals and society, but also the family
of nations as such are willed and ordained by the divine
Author and Architect of the world. 30 In this endeavour the
casuist may restrict himself to the international :field, the more
so as the distinction between individual and nation justifies
a specific treatment of International Casuistics, which we may
now define: International Casuistics is the systematic analysis
of concrete cases 1·elative to acts of governments affecting other
nations, with the purpose of giving a particular judgment on
the moral charact,er of such acts, and on the conscientious
obligations of all ·who are directly or remotely affected by
them.
Because of the complexity of world events and the
weakness of human intelligence, International
Casuistics
extends beyond the scope of natural casuistics and merges into
scientific casuistics. With the support of common sense, it
uses confidently the science of general ethical principles, and the
illuminating rules of moral theology diffused through a practical
3 ° Cf. Leo XIII
Encyclical Libertas, June !W, 1888, condemning the liberal
thesis that the collective will of men is the ultimate basis of human society.

372

THOMAS GREENWOOD

or prudential judgment. Hence it is subordinated to theology,
and as an applied science it is neither autonomous nor arbitrary. Indeed, its rulings do not depend ultimately upon the
opinions of moralists and theologians, as if there were averages
supplied by observation and considered sufficient in guiding
action. For this would make all practical decisions and acts
independent of Revelation and· speculative ethics. Such a
modernistic interpretation of international actions is a serious
error denounced by Pius IX and his successors.
International pacts are assimilated by Pius IX to contracts, 81
thus relating them to natural and social-ethics. Again, in his
encyclical Libertas, Leo XIII declares: " To remove the whole
public and social life from the jurisdiction of moral law would
amount to denying the dependence of society upon God, which
is precisely the capital error of social liberalism." Likewise,
the great encyclicals of Pius XI and Pius XII concerning the
international order, are a protest against the autonomy of
practical reason in the complex matters involving the common
good. It may be added that the presumed autonomy of
casuistics laid it open to suspicion. But when considered in
its true perspective, casuistics manifests great importance and
practical fecundity.
As the Vatican Council expressly requires for casuistics in
general the support of Revelation and tradition, as well as
of theological deductions, International Casuistics must be
illuminated by ethics and strengthened by theology, which
keeps its conclusions within the divine law. It is the science
of a concrete application of ethics and theology to specific
cases well determined in their individual circumstances. Such
a science sometimes may propose imperfect conclusions on
account of the factual imperfection of concrete national acts,
and because some governments neglect or disregard the light
of grace and the claims of justice. But such imperfections do
not affect the legitimacy and usefulness of that science.
Casuistic judgments aim specifically at the normally and
81 Cf. Syllabus,
propositions 89 and 65, particularly
this similarity.

proposition 52 defining

INTERNATIONAL

873

CASUISTICS

justly possible, and not at the more opportune and the nearer
to .perfection, as required in pastoral and is ascetical theology.
Their objective is not a perfect good or a better good, but the
minimum good possible under the circumstances, as ordained
to the absolute good which is necessarily its final cause. Yet
casuistics does not favour or require a dissociation of these
levels of the good, for this would be contrary to the nature
of the good, which diffuses its ontological richness in a continuous expansion of its specific levels of manifestation. Furthermore, a casuistic judgment may lead to some material-improvement of the minimum good, although formally it only separates
the licit from the illicit. Hence, the function of International
Casuistics is to analyse complex individual cases in order to
decide practically what is permissible, at least by virtue of
reflex or negative principles, and what is forbidden under pain
of grievous fault.
From these considerations, it follows that casuistics deals
with the practical and the concrete, and not with the theoretical
and the speculative as such. Hence, the knowledge of the
principles of positive ethics and of the conclusions of moral
theology is not sufficient in estimating every concrete act of a
nation. It is necessary to use further a practical judgment,
which must be just in proportion to its objective, in conformity
with the eternal law. This transition from the speculative
to the practical gives to casuistics its criteria, its method ·and
its value.
II.

THE CRITERIA OF INTERNATIONAL

CASUISTICS.

In its own field, International Casuistics aims at certainty.
It seeks a positive decision, even if the case under analysis
is doubtful. Its subordination to theology justifies its criteria
and its method, which must be derived from divine law, their
ultimate foundation.
Let us state first the general criteria, which are directly
justifiable with regard to the divine law. They are: (1) the
supremacy of the law of love, that is the love of God and

874

THOMAS GREENWOOD

neighbour. Next (2) the primacy of the universal common
good, with respect to the national common good and to the
natural individual good narrowly interpreted. Then (8) the
primacy of the claims of the law of love and of the universal
good in relation to the specific positive rules deduced from
these two criteria. This means that the choice between two
specific rules, which the imperfection of human circumstances
may render mutually exclusive in a strict sense, however prudently interpreted, must be made with regard to the first· two
criteria which are immutable.
To those fundamental criteria, the following may be added:
(4) The direct certainty of the requirements of the evangelical
law, as given in Scripture and Church tradition; (5) the direct
certainty of the common teaching based on Scripture and
Church tradition; (6) the direct certainty of the obligations
of the l!.ardinal virtues, as accepted by the common teaching;
(7) the indirect certainty of reflex principles, as accepted or
justified by the common teaching. Such principles may be
used only when it is impossible to have direct criteria, and when
their purport and application can be connected with the law of
love and the universal common good.32 In all cases, the
casuistic judgment, which integrates these criteria with its
subjective and objective elements, must aim at certainty.
The special criteria of casuistics are drawn from the common
theses of natural law concerning society as given by the
common teaching or its proper extension, provided they are
justifiable by the law of love and the common good, or simply
approved by Church tradition.
Here are a few special criteria which must be used in judging
international questions: (1) Primacy of the state of peace,
even if it carries grave imperfections which can not be corrected
by the means at hand. (2) Necessity of authority in the state,
even if. the prince or government has a false notion of the
39 Here is an example of a reflex principle permittin-g the transition
from the
speculative to the practical, and characterizing the moderate probabilism admitted
by the Church " Nullus ligatur per praeceptum aliquod nisi mediante scientia
illius praecepti " (St. Thomas, De_ V eritate, Q. 17, a. 8) .

INTERNATIONAL

CASUISTICS

875

natural law and of its execution. 83 (8) Appraisal of the legitimacy of the prince or of his government, in judging conflicts
of authorities or the binding conditions of their actions with
respect to aliens. (4) Validity of internal and external jurisdiction of de facto governments expecting to become legitimate
and possessing executive qualifications recognized by custom
or common doctrine. (5) Respect for the ways of expressing
the popular will, either explicit or tacit, according to the
customs or the constitution of the people, and with due regard
for its culture, evolution and natural or contractual aspirations.
The principle of non-intervention, which is related to this
criterion is not absolute, but subordinated to the common
good.
Many maxims valid in international law can be used in
pertinent cases in casuistics. These maxims may be grouped
under three principal heads: respect for the sovereignty of
a state; respect for the rights of man as an individual and a
citizen; respect for contracts and
the just conditions of their
modification. However, these practical criteria should be understood with reference to the eternal law calling for peace with
justice. 84 They are always interpreted by the Sovereign Pon. tiffs in this sense.35 Hence, they should not be given an
absolute value, as this may lead to injustice.
Casuistics, therefore, has to show how such maxims are
applicable to particular cases, and whether their use conforms
to the given criteria, for every shade of interpretation of the
case under consideration. The application of all these criteria
and maxims must not be made at random; notwithstanding
the specificity of the prudent judgment involved in each case,
•• The criteria of the primacy of peace and of the necessity of authority in a
concrete situation, are not always and necessarily binding in conscience internally,
if they cover serious imperfections translated in unjust and evil decisions.
•• In his Response Con la Mayor Satisfaccion to the Ambassador of Peru, His
Holiness Pius XII affirms that " international law, while leaving the sovereignty
of every state safe and perfect, recognizes the principle of peace with justice
as a postulate of the natural and Christian conception of law."
•• Cf. Pius XII, Allocution In Qnesto Giorno (Shristmas, 1939), to the College
pf Cardinals.

376

THOMAS GREENWOOD

a strict though flexible method must be followed, in order to
give certainty to casuistic decisions.
III.

THE METHOD OF INTERNATIONAL

CASUISTICS.

Since International Casuistics is subordinate to theology,
it depends on the deductive method for its development. The
starting point of its practical judgments is the eternal law,
whence conclusions are drawn about the moral value of concrete
cases. The operation involves analysis and synthesis, for any
particular case is analyzed with :reference to the principles
which will justify eventually the conclusion required. Induction
or statistical and analogical generalizations should be used
only for strengthening and illustrating conclusions already
obtained deductively. Otherwise a relative and perfectible
value would be given to casuistic judgments, instead of the
certainty which is their aim.
In using analysis and synthesis in a case, International Casuistics should apply all the criteria already given to all the factual
circumstances known, in order to prepare a moral decision,
with due regard to the objective laws concerning such facts
and their possible exceptions. On the strength of justifiable
compensations between all these elements, one is able to form
the particular judgment required, taking as ultimate criterion
the law of love expressed through respect for the universal
good.
Furthermore, casuistic reasoning presupposes several subjective and objective conditions, which now must be considered
in detail. The subjective conditions depend on the synthetic
utilization of the virtues. Indeed, the solution of concrete cases
requires more than strict reasoning from the criteria of casuistics by successive deductions in the desired direction, because
each case involves a number of specific elements grouped in a
unique way by the permanent and the contingent circumstances
of life. Hence a casuistic reasoning must use the wisdom of all
virtues, and of justice and prudence in particular, considering
that the last prudential judgment obtained through deduction

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is the very form of the intended action or decision. Without
insisting here on the common teaching on charity, on the
cardinal virtues (including their integrant and subjective
parts), and on the related virtues which are constantly taken
into account by the casuist, it is however proper to mention
some of the distinctive features and rules of the mutually
supporting virtues of justice and prudence which bind him
more strictly.
Objective justice requires that a nation should be enabled
or helped to keep or recuperate the material and moral goods
it is entitled to, and should not be caused to suffer loss or
damage in its legitimate goods. We are concerned here with
the understanding of the exact order that should exist among
nations, and not with the disposition of the individual will,
which is. subjectively necessary in assessing its due to each
nation. In other words we are dealing here with objective
justice between nations, and not with the subjective habit
of justice in the casuist, who may be unjust in some of his
private acts though he must be just in his decisions about the
mutual rights and duties of nations. The name of international
justice is given to this special aspect or part of objective
justice.
As it is not always possible to protect, give, or restore what
belongs justly to a nation in a given case, the appraisal of an
action committed, recommended, justified, or tolerated requires
further the virtue of prudence which completes practically
that of justice. Prudence takes into account all the particular
and concrete circumstances of a definite case, and predisposes
one to know, recommend, or do what is morally good or licit.
Instead of estimating only the abstract conditions of the
solution of a given case, it considers as well the possibilities
of action and the limitations of the freedom of the parties
involved. Hence prudence develops the ability to foresee a
solution correctly, in the words of St. Isidore, through the
uncertainty of events. It presupposes according to St. Thomas,
the knowledge of the general principles of morality and of

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THOMAS GREENWOOD

the particular contingencies of human actions. 86 This is precisely the essential need of the casuist, especially when he
passes judgment on the government of nations in the international field with respect to the common good.
To the different levels of the good, namely the personal,
familiar, social and international good, there correspond
different kinds of prudence, 87 all of which are ordained to the
good as such. These types, which do not affect the characteristics of prudence as such, should be considered separately;
the more so as they are not necessarily found in any one
individual. But it will suffice here to analye the prudence
concerning the government and the reciprocal actions of nations
considered in general.
The prudence of government coupled with justice, according
to St. Thomas, is a virtue proper to a leader who should direct
and command: " A special perfection of government is required
for one who has to govern not only himself, but also a social
community, a city, or a kingdom. Such a government is the
more perfect if it is more universal, that is, if it extends to
more men with a view to attain a higher end." 88 In this
passage, as in the whole treatise on prudence, St. Thomas
is concerned mostly if not exclusively with the common good
of the nation. But the use of the characteristics and rules of
prudence he gives could be very well extended to international
relations.
As we deal here with a government which would " extend
to a greater number of men in order to attain a higher end,"
we may identify the international good with that end. In
framing his decisions, the head of a nation may have in view
the good of his nation as a part of that universal good. And
as he can not govern the whole world, he should at least
adjust his political decisions to that international good.
•• Summa Theol., 11-11, q. 47, a. 80.
•• Ibid., a. 11. Cf. also q. 50, where the various species of prudence are
analyzed.
•• Ibid., q. 50, a. 1. This question is concerned with the guidance of others,
in opposition to individual prudence.

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Therefore, without being directly concerned with that higher
end, he should be inspired by it in promoting the good of his
nation. If every national leader adopts such a rule of action,
then the international or the temporal common good would
be respected in practice by each and all nations. Yet the
understanding arid acceptance of this precept by the leaders,
executives, and citizens of nations, presupposes that they
be given an accurate description of the common good, and
eventually a system of definitions and rules generally approved.
The profound analogy between the character and practice
of the special types of prudence :required in national matters
and in international decisions has its foundation in the
unifying and diffusive nature of the common good. Just
as national prudence is a special prudence :required by the
political head of a state, so we may speak of international
prudence as having also a specific character. Yet both types
are rooted in the single and true virtue of prudence, which is
the enlightened servant of the common good. Unfortunately
most statesmen are guided by the prudence of the flesh, which
can not eliminate the fears, suspicions, and dissimulations which
render the international atmosphere oppressive. This false
prudence is only a transitory palliative, causing at most the
national passions to smolder. Hence the further necessity
of informing political leaders of the proper subjective conditions
of the common good.
In this respect we must mention a potential part of the
virtue of justice, which is particularly important for the statesmen in making decisions and for casuists in forming judgments.
It is the gift of epikeia which permits one to decide in a given
individual case that its special circumstances warrant an
exception from a general law. In such a case, prudence leads
one to do what is morally good with regard to these concrete
circumstances, and not simply with reference to similar ideal
circumstances. Hence the prudential judgement must conform
not only to the appropriate general means required, but also
to the particular means and to the immediate need of action

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THOMAS GREENWOOD

in circumstances which are not always good, and can not
always be improved. Such a concrete decision is warranted
by epikeia, but only insofar as it is not opposed to the universal
common good and the law of love. Therefore, misuse
and abuse of epikeia is not permissible. Similarly it is wrong
to propose for it a general theory and practice, for that would
eliminate the necessity of the general structural principles
regulating national and international societies.
In concluding these remarks on the subjective conditions
of International Casuistics, let us recall briefly the integral
parts of prudence and some virtues connected with it, as they
all help to judge and counsel efficiently in difficult situations.
The former, are: experience, intelligence, memory, readiness
to take good counsel, shrewdness of mind, ability for clear
reasoning, circumspection, and foresight. The latter are: good
moral sense, moral perspicuity, and euboulia or ability to give
good counsel. It is evident that the vices opposed to the various
aspects of prudence should be known in order to be avoided,
and should be taken into account in appraising any actions of
governments.
We may now turn to the objective phases of casuistic judgments. They involve: (1) Acceptance of the material situation
of a case just as given. (2) An objective analysis of all the
elements of this material situation, attending particularly to
those which may characterize the case, and tracing them back
to their possible psychological or political motives. (3) An
estimation of those determining motives, that is the intentions,
interests, traditions, theses, objectives, means, circumstances,
and precedents converging towards the case under consideration.
(4) Individual and collective responsibilities must be brought
out, by coordinating the various motives according to distinct
centers of perspective, with regard to each person directly
concerned and also to the nations concerned; in doing so due
regard must be given to the universal common good, to the
near and remote repercussions of the case, and finally to the
conscience and influence of the casuist himself. (5) Appreciation of these different responsibilities, by confronting them

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381

with the accepted criteria and principles, giving precedence
to the strongest over the most immediate. (6) Balancing
the general and special criteria on the axis of the twofold
primacy of the law of love and of the universal common good,
and placing all the centers of perspective in such ·a way as to
permit a single conclusion; by reason of the aim of casuistics,
probabilism in all its forms may be used here judiciously.
Finally (7) one must make an exact synthesis of all those
phases, and propose a decisive conclusion with certainty.
The use of prudence with its various elements and connected
virtues, involves the necessity of avoiding common errors in
the application of this method. For example: (1) One must
eliminate personal feelings, which may affect the integrity of
(!l) One must not be
individual or particular judgments.
influenced by conflicts of opinions, for prejudice and sympathy
affect the rectitude of the analysis and the conclusion of a case.
(3) One must avoid judging a whole case with regard to one
particular virtue: he must rather balance his judgment with
a unifying synthesis of all the virtues. (4) One must avoid
judging a whole case through a single center of perspective;
he must rather consider the harmony and coordination of all
such centers before drawing a conclusion. (5) On account
of the higher certainty of direct deductions from fundamental
principles, one must not use reflex principles unnecessarily or
without connecting them deductively with the permanent
criteria of the law of love and the common good. (6) One
must avoid the use of epikeia habitually, as this gift is valuable
only in solving exceptional cases.
Furthermore: (7) Principles of natural morality must not
be used exclusively, as the more extensive divine plan requires
recourse to. theology. (8) Appeals must not be made to
schools of history inspired by materialistic, utilitarian, idealistic or deterministic principles; for such systems reject the
proper theological conception of creation.
(9) Judgments
unsupported by firm principles must be avoided, as they imply
uncertainty of criteria, aversion to authority, relativity of
conscience and vagueness of conclusions; .and this remark

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THOMAS GREENWOOD

applies also to private interpretations of evangelic precepts.
(10) Excesses, chicaneries, and subtleties of dialectics must be
avoided, as they blur the efficiency of criteria and the correctness of conclusions. (11) Special principles must not be
transformed into absolutes; such a practice would eliminate
their relativity with reference to the fixed criteria of the law
of love and of the common good; it would make epikeia useless, and it would substitute opportunism for the strict ethics
of the natural and the divine law.
Finally one must avoid a number of other errors such as:
(12) Fallacies in reasoning, that is the various sophisms and
the confusion of fields or spheres of thought. (13) The use
of current maxims without having checked them against the
particular and general criteria; otherwise the divine law is
practically abandoned in favour of arbitrary and false absolutes,
such as the " reason of state," the " need of living space,"
the "protection of national honor," and similar formulas.
(14) A partial estimate of the parties involved in a case, when
each is not wholly responsible for the events under consideration; for example, a party can not be blamed for a factual
modification beyond its actual or remote control. (15) All
forms of laxism, such as excessive indulgence, allowance for
human weakness, or evangelical zeal, when postponing an
obvious decision in the hope of obtaining conversions and
reforms. (16) All aspects of tutiorism and rigorism, whether
mitigated or absolute, especially when these teach that only
the sure or safer alternative in a conflict must be chosen, that
no distinction exists between sins and faults, and that all faults
are grave, thus favoring asceticism or quietism, and destroying
the object of casuistics. In conclusion (17) casuistics must
not overlook or disregard the virtue of hope, without which
one is driven to presumption or despair, or at least to indecision
about the gravity of faults and responsibilities (moral relativism) , thus vitiating the analysis of cases and the value of
casuistic conclusions.

INTERNATIONAL

IV.

THE DIFFICULTIES

383

CASUISTICS

OF INTERNATIONAL

CASUISTICS

The fundamental distinction between individual and nation,
and also between individual and international morality, must
be taken into account, when forming a judgment in International Casuistics. For a number of specific peculiarities
may color decisions and constitute difficulties which must be
faced by the casuist before his final decision.
1. As the responsibility of the individual is closely related
to his eternal salvation, the political responsibility of a prince
or his ministers involves supplementary qualifications concerning their duties of state, which clearly affect their salvation.
But is the responsibility of a nation of the same kind? We
may answer in the affirmative as regards temporal order;
according to St. Thomas, a nation may be punished collectively for faults committed by its government with the express
or tacit approval of the people. In the spiritual order, however, it can not be said that a nation has an eternal salvation
to win. The immortal soul, which alone can be saved, is
evidently individual. A nation as a collection of individuals,
has no individual or collective soul to save for eternity. It
does not follow, however, that there are no spiritual elements
in national acts. Since Providence affects the world distributively and collectively, group activities as well are judged
before the divine tribunal. Thus St. Gregory says: " Every
time the deeds of a nation, whether just or unjust, are brought
before the celestial curia, Angels undertake lively debates about
them. According to Scripture, the Angel entrusted with the
interests of that nation may sometimes win and sometimes
lose." 89 The supernatural judgment of a nation may be
considered collectively; but its execution is distributive for the
individuals of the group and proportionate to the active or
negative participation of each in the common action. To be
sure, the head of a nation as well as his subordinates and
subjects have, in these capacities, obligations of justice and
•• Moralia, Book xvii, chap. 8.

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GREEN1VOOD

charity in the national and in the supernatural order. Their
responsibilities, therefore, may be analyzed in both the temporal
and in the spiritual order, with due regard for the pertinent
distinctions already mentioned.
2. The supreme responsibility of the mandating authority
is apt to confuse the subordinates and subjects about their
own responsibility unless their respective fields of jurisdiction
and interpretation are clearly defined. It is evident that a
mandating authority who issues unjust decrees commits a
grave fault, which becomes more serious if it indicates and
imposes more or less licit means for their execution. But
does the habitual obedience required of those who execute
orders eliminate their responsibility in carrying out their
orders? Certainly not, for the state is not an absolute and
cannot transcend the eternal law, which must remain supreme.
A decree of Pope Alexander XI condemns the servant who
obeys his master in fear of punishment or dismissal, by holdillg
a ladder for him when he visits his lover. 40 This condemnation
means. that the servant is bound in conscience by the moral
law, which is higher than his contractual bond with his master.
Similarly, the obligations of the moral law is higher and
stronger than any arbitrary or improper injunctions imposed
even by a legimate authority. No problem arises when the
injunctions and the obligations coincide, but in a conflict
between them the moral law must necessarily prevail.
It may happen, however, that a ruler imposes licit decrees
and licit means for their execution, though he keeps to himself his improper motives and though he may reap unjust
results. In that case, his subordinates may obey him legitimately, and claim eventually an exoneration from guilt and
punishment, as they are not bound to find out the real motives
of their ruler, or even to analyze beforehand their probable
consequences. But their responsibility remains, in the face
of decrees and means which are clearly illicit. Similarly, the
•• Decree of the Holy Office, March
laxism.

1679 (No. 51 Famulua), condemning

INTERNATIONAL

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885

reason of state cannot be invoked against a strict moral law,
or in the name of false principles concerning human freedom.
But it can be used licitly only to permit or tolerate certain
acts following the breaking of contracts or
and also
for the withdrawal of privileges granted by the ruler. In all
these cases, nevertheless, the ruler who knows his improper
motives and aims, and yet acts at their bidding, is entirely
and gravely responsible for this initial fault and for its evil
consequences.
In the sequence of acts proceeding from an initial fault of
the ruler, the evaluation of the responsibility of all concerned
must take the following elements into account: (a) the
hierarchical relations of the subordinates, (b) their functions
and their degree of freedom, (c) the nature of the means
imposed or chosen for the execution of their mission, and (d)
the results obtained by each one of them. Furthermore,
this common moral rule must be taken into consideration for
each action: A conscious act is good or licit, only when its
motives, its means and its expected results are good or licit.
It is proper to qualify this rule by stating that in a general
plan of action, motives and results are estimated with reference
to the relative knowledge each subordinate has of the general
plan.
It remains to consider the value of certain acts performed
by the people, without an order or a directive from the ruler.
As the people has no supreme and unquestionable authority
in fact or by right, it is wrong to maintain that whatever is
done by the people is just. Strictly illicit or immoral acts do
not become good or licit when they are committed by the
· people, who can not even claim exoneration from guilt in this
respect. A decree of Pope Alexander VII bearing on this
point condemns the principle: Populus non peccat etiamsi
absque ulla causa non recipiat legem a principe promulgatam. 41
The fault is grave when it carries a deliberate flouting of an
explicit law forbidding certain acts, as this involves disobedience
41

Decree of the Holy Office, Sept. 24, 1665, condemning laxism.

6

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THOMAS GREENWOOD

to civil authority and violation of the moral law. The fault
is also grave when it follows neglect of a moral law or ignorance
of a positive law, whether promulgated or implied strictly.
Thus lynching and assassination by a mob are never permitted.
To be sure popular justice is right only when it agrees with
eternallaw. 42 For these reasons, a ruler is partly responsible
for any illicit collective acts of the people following his neglect
to promulgate enlightening laws, or his eagerness to promote
an ideology or set of laws tolerating or encouraging such
illicit acts.
3. Individual morality considers real persons, with an
individual will, a personal conscience, while international morality considers groups with a collective will or a national
conscience. Because of the analogical or indefinite character
of these last two concepts, it would seem that the obligatiC>ns
of nations are not as clear as those of individuals. Yet, a
proper analysis of such collective duties should make plain
the filiations and deviations of the individual conscience with
respect to the universal common good. It is true that International Casuistics concerns the individual conscience also,
inasmuch as such units are the substantial parts of a group,
each having definite political obligations through it towards
the common good. Yet, though some individuals may refuse
to approve or to fulfil group decisions which they dislike, the
casuistic judgment of a collective case has not for its subject
any individual conscience as such, unless a person is entrusted
with a responsible duty for the group.
Indeed, International Casuistics is concerned with the group
as a whole, which accepts expressly or tacitly a common
decision. In determining responsibilities in a collective act,
• 2 Hence collective punishment
of a group or a nation is permissible or even
desirable, if it is practically possible. But such punishment must be really
collective and not individual, unless some definite individuals are directly
responsible for acts imputable to the group. Because of its_ collective character,
such a punishment must be lighter for each individual than the combined effects
of the common act. That is why the execution of innocent hostages is unjust
and illicit.

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387

it is desirable to use discrimination and to judge more severely
those whose actions, or prerogatives, mark them out in a definite
case. This is a rule of justice supported by the common
opinion of moralists, in particular by Vitoria 43 who reminds
us of the classic quotation: Quidquid delirant reges plectentur
Achivi. For him, the responsible members of a group must
be punished justly for a collective fault. But the group as
a whole should be exempted from a severe penalty, though
it should not be exonerated in a fault committed by the ruler
specifically, by invoking as an absolute principle either the
good faith of the members of the group (including the ruler
in certain cases), or their obligation of obedience to the
sovereign. In many instances, the group as such participates
to some extent in a collective wrong, as it can be ascertained
by the nature and extent of its consequences. Even though
it may be impossible to single out the guilty, justice calls for
a collective punishment in proportion to the seriousness of
the fault. Hence, it is difficult if not impossible to save the
innocent from paying for the guilty, especially if they can
not prove their innocence publicly, or if the circumstances and
execution of the punishment make it impractical to mete it
out exclusively to the responsible persons.
For that reason, the Scriptures warn that God will disperse
the nations that do not follow His law. And in the history
of the Church, we read of Sovereign Pontiffs pronouncing
severe sentences against nations, 44 when the individual citizen
has only a very remote share in the guilty actions of their
ruler. Saint Augustine, Saint Thomas, Vitoria, Suarez, and
other moralists admit the lawfulness of collective punishment,
even when innocent persons are in the group. As Vitoria says:
" Society could not subsist without , a power or authority
capable of discouraging the wicked and preventing them from
43 De Jure Belli, N. 59 and 60.
•• An example is offered by the action of Innocent III placing England under

interdict, in order to compel King John to accept his demands. In the eleventh
century, Alexander II had given permission to William the Conqueror to invade
England and take the royal crown.

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THOMAS GREENWOOD

doing InJury to the good and innocent." 45 Consequently
the political survival of a nation must not be presented or
accepted as an absolute principle, in order to evade justifiable
collective punishments, even if these have grave consequences
for the political unity or independence of that nation.
As regards the material share of an individual in a collective
penalty, Suarez says "reason demands that vindictive justice
be meted out with the least possible inconvenience for the
common good." 46 Hence in the infliction of collective punishment, the share of each individual distributively should not
be heavier than, or even equal to, the extreme consequences
of the incriminating act, because of the unequal proportions
in individual responsibility, and of the probable existence
of innocent persons in the collectivity. It should be observed
further, that the penalty suffered by the innocent in a collective
punishment must affect their external goods only, and not
their conscience; it may even result in their spiritual enrichment through the practice of fortitude and other virtues.
But such motives of asceticism must not be invoked for the
infliction or the tolerance of unjust punishments.
4. As experience shows that nations often take questionable
decisions, the question arises as to the means of pressure to
be used on such nations in order to bring them back to a normal
situation. In the case of individuals, it ·suffices to appeal to
their reason, to their conscience of the justice and love of
God. Such casuistic judgments can be understood by the
individual concerned, and can dispose him to act accordingly.
In the case of nations it ought to be sufficient to make an
impersonal appeal to the same principles; indeed, one should
begin with them in all justice and end in all charity. The
Popes gave edifying examples of such attitudes in the last
two world wars; in this connection it would be well to meditate the moving exhortations made by Benedict XV to the
belligerents. 47 However experience shows that the purpose
45 De Jure Belli, No. 19.
'"De Virtutibus Theologalis, Sect. viii, No. 3.
' 7 Exhortation
Allorche Fummo, July
1915.

INTERNATIONAL

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889

of such appeals was not achieved in most cases, and that
recourse to force is still the ultimate and .decisive argument
of nations.
This does not mean, however, that there are two incompatible
means of solving individual and collective conflicts. To be
sure, the conditions imposed by prudence, justice, and charity
for the eventual use of force, always subordinate might to the
defense and preservation of the common good. Hence, force is
never an end in itself; it is only a means to be used, sometimes
unavoidably in the sinful state of the world, to bring out the
evidence of the common good. Therefore, concern for the
common good and for its diffusive power for each nation
presses distinctly or confusedly on the conscience of whoever
must act on the national or international level. In individual
as in collective cases, we rise to this one final cause of human
acts. Their specific differences stimulate the virtues and talents
necessary to form casuistic judgments with certainty.
5. Significant Q.etails for the correct appraisal of an individual case may become known under oath or under the
sacramental secrecy of confession. But such is not the case
with national acts, as it is often impossible to have full knowledge of all their significant components. Indeed, inteJ,'Ilational
actions involve so many disparate elements, that satisfactory
made readily. In most cases, it is
verifications could not
impossible to penetrate the conscience of all concerned, and
to discover the fundamental motives which may affect casuistic
judgments. Yet, on the collective level, it is always possible
to find the specific event· which determines an international
act as such. The correlation or natural compensation of causes
and effects, with all the aids of methods required by social
science, should enable us to apply to a known case the superior
universal principles taken as criteria, even if some secondary
details remain unknown to the particular judge.
6. In an individual case, order can be preserved or reestablished by occult compensations. But at the national or international level, proper satisfaction requires exclusively public

be

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THOMAS GREENWOOD

compensations for unjust actions. Hence, the casuist can not
approve a ruler or his agents who may offer occult compen.
sations only for injury caused by them in the public order.
Because a collective act is so extended in its manifestations
and consequences that it can not be corrected indirectly through
a secret individual decision, execution of the decision would
reveal immediately the collectivity responsible for the deed.
Consequently, an occult compensation is not practically possible
from the collective point of view. Yet, it is not always necessary
to name the person responsible for the unjust act or for the
compensatory decision, especially if either custom or the constitution allows a collective responsibility on the part of the
government and requires secrecy for the deliberations of its
members. The parties to an unjust act can always satisfy
the moral law, apart from any public redress, by penances
imposed on them or voluntarily undertaken. From the collective point of view, however, what matters in most cases is the
public material or moral redress of compensation for an unjust
act, and not necessarily the public disclosure of the responsible
parties. It is therefore evident that the individual as well as
the public order are not satisfied ultimately by the mode of
compensations, but rather by the fact of its realization.
Of course, all this is done for the preservation of the common
good.
7. The strength of the analogies between the individual
and the public order varies according to the cases under consideration, and must be taken into account in establishing
a casuistic decision. For example, the honor-preservation
principle holds for both the individual and the nation, but
the means to be used to force its respect are not always the
same. In individual casuistics, maintenance or redress of the
public order is safeguarded by the prudential clause secluso
scandalo, which makes moralists cautious in counseling occult
compensation and other indirect means of satisfaction. Nevertheless, this very safeguard for the public good makes it
imperative sometimes. to reveal the circumstances of an unjust

INTERNATIONAl,

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391

act. In International Casuistics, reasons for concealing or
revealing a scandal are not always identical; and furthermore,
there is no occult compensation in the collective order. Hence,
the casuist must be most careful in applying to international
cases conclusions formed on mere analogies from individual
circumstances. He must always check his judgments by going
back to first principles, and by applying them specifically to
the circumstances of the case under consideration.
8. In many individual cases, the casuist may be helped by
existing juridical codes which define the lawfulness of certain
acts with precision. But the absence of an international code
defining the obligations and sanctions binding all states and
nations makes it most difficult to appeal to immediate specific
criteria when judging an international event. This explains
the insistence of Sovereign Pontiffs in asking the nations to
codify international law. 48 Meanwhile, it is clear that International Casuistics must appeal more frequently to the general
criteria already set forth.
Consequently, the procedure of the casuist is both complicated and simplified. It is materially complicated, because
each case requires a specific analysis in order to recognize the
principles involved. It is formally simplified, because it keeps
the casuist in the immediate vision of the first principles. But
whether he is helped or not by positive codes, the casuist must
consider a given case under several immediate angles of vision.
This is true for individual as well as for collective actions. But
in all cases, the various angles of vision must be regulated in
the sole perspective of the universal common good. Owing to
the many differences between the actions of individuals and
nations, to which the casuist must be accustomed, and to the
absence of intermediary principles universally accepted as
such, the practice of International Casuistics requires a greater
amount of original reflection, and a humble recourse to the
various virtues and the divine gifts,
48 Cf. Pius XII, Response Con la Mayor Satisfacci6n, July 17, 1941, to the
Ambassador of Peru.

THOMAS GREENWOOD

9o In closing these remarks, we should like to discuss the
practical possibility of International Casuistics. Considering
the numerous criteria it needs, the practical conditions for
the study of cases, and the specific difficulties imposed by their
collective character, it may seem that International Casuistry
can not reach conclusions with certaintyo Yet, the complexity
of its elements can not be properly invoked against its ability
to reach certain conclusionso We have shown that International Casuistics uses all the positive criteria of moral
theology, and we know, on the other hand, that the political
activities of nations affect international life materially and
morallyo Hence, it must be possible to compare these acts
with those criteria, and to judge them in themselves and in
relations to the parties concerned. The practice of casuistics
will show more precisely the strength of its special criteria,
and the correlated stages of its methodo Indeed, it is not
enough to define it, to characterize it, and to establish its
theoretical possibility; since casuistics is a practical sc1ence,
it must be put into practice.
Vo

VALUE OF INTERNATIONAL

CASUISTICSo

The collective perception of a universal common good
becomes dearer, as nations experience the claims of their
solidarity, which calls for a real cooperation reaching even
beyond their deepest differences. This attitude is encouraged
by the Sovereign Pontiffs 49 on the social leveL But this
intercredal cooperation implies neither a theological synderesis
nor a moral eclecticism, which the Catholic Church can never
favou:ro The unity of the eternal law in its twofold form of
natural and revealed law, however, justifies the promotion of
an active cooperation with nations of good will for the preservation of the common good for all peopleo50 But as this secular
cooperation is now extended to all nations, their different
•• Cf. "Intercredal Cooperation in the Papal Documents" by the Rev. W.
Parsons, S. J., in Theological Studies, June 1943.
5 ° Cf. "Intercredal
Cooperation: Principles" by the Rev. J. C. Murray, S. J.,
in Theological Studies, June 1943.

INTERNATIONAL

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393

mental attitudes, incompatible ideologies, and clashing material
interests involve a risk of injustice in many international
decisions.
That is why Pope Pius XII has not disapproved the organization of a powerful group of nations for the defense of basic
international interests, going even as far as to imply that armed
resistance to evil forces sometimes becomes a moral obligation. 51
This grim declaration on international matters was given its
counterpart in the national field, when the Sovereign Pontiff
affirmed that it is the moral duty of Catholics to resist iniquitous nationallaws. 52 It is plain that the concrete application of
these principles in this imperfect world causes situations calling
for casuistic conclusions.
While hoping for a better and more effective organization
of international life, it seems that a concrete preservation of
a· minimum universal common good is the most that nations
can achieve at present. To this effect International Casuistics
offers an important method of evaluation. But while insisting
on a minimum rather than a complete common good, International Casuistics encourages the latter by demanding the
former. Indeed, its conclusions and decisions concerning the
minimum common good should be used in other ways for the
improvement of unsatisfactory situations. In fact, individual
casuistics has a similar aim.
Hence, International Casuistics is valuable, because it preserves a minimum common good and helps to a void error in
particular moral judgments. As it remains subordinated always
to moral theology, it can neither weaken it nor be substituted
for it. Though it :respects the integrity of the Christian mind
and the counsel of perfection, it may limit an obligation or
a perfection by virtue of reflex principles in specific cases only,
but always in the light of practical charity. In the general
plan of theology, International Casuistics is a step towards
individual and social perfection, in accordance with this divine
51
52

Allocution to the College of Cardinals, Christmas 1948.
Consistorial Allocution, Feb. 14, 1949.

894

THOMAS GREENWOOD

counsel: "Be ye perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect,"
which can be fulfilled only through a series of trials permitted
by divine justice and love.
EPILOGUE:

WISDOM

IN POLITICAL

DECISIONS.

The establishment of the peace depends on the human will
organizing properly circumstances pre-existing to its immediate
activity. It requires the orientation of the human will towards
the good, and the existence of circumstances favourable to
its exercise for the common good. If the will is somehow
evil, some accidental good may arise, provided that circumstances on the whole are favourable to this good. But the
moral value of such a result can not be perfect; and this
accidental good can not be lasting, unless it is confirmed by
a subsequent good act. On the other hand, if the will is good
and the circumstances bad, the results manifest varying degrees
of good and evil dependent on the manner in which the will
makes its decisions. This type of action occurs most frequently
in political life. Hence the necessity of analyzing it with
respect to the principles and practical applications of international ethics, and also to the common temporal good which
is its ultimate goal and the condition of peace.
In the international order, the circumstances which beget
problems of organization arise from common decisions and
are caused by various agents having usually different moral
Temperament, education, national customs,
conceptions.
political forms, and ideological or religious convictions, make
these differences more specific and efficient. Further, agents
may be bound by imperative mandates and determined by
a moral or a physical fear of neglecting their mandate. Such,
and similar, considerations bear indirectly on any discussions
aiming at a common decision, and make it most difficult for
the statesman to be satisfied with the morality of his actions.
The prudent statesman is not bound, however, to take into
account the individual internal responsibility of each one of
his colleagues, or even to discuss with them the value of their

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395

actions. Diplomatic life as such offers numerous opportunities
for this apostolate of mercy. The manner, method and occasion
of this particularly delicate form of fraternal correction can
be left in each case to the inspiration and prudence of the
Christian statesman. Before furnishing him with practical
directions in this respect, it is desirable to set up formally an
apologetic and a pastoral system concerning international
matters.
In the strict exercise of his diplomatic functions, the prudent
statesman must allow his colleagues the benefit of being
sincere and of believing their motives and purposes to be good,
even if such is not truly the case. For his official functions
do not compel him to convince them of malice, or to make them
acknowledge the falsity of their principles. But this imputation
of sincerity should not eliminate or attenuate for the others
the malice or falsity of any such principles, end, or means.
He must also allow for any unfavourable circumstances as
well as for the personal malice of his partners, because he has
to cooperate with them, and because he is responsible only for
his own actions, which must avoid all malice in order to be
good or at least licit.
In short, the prudent statesman has to act in an imperfect
world, which causes his decisions to have partly good and
partly bad consequences. Hence his situation involves the use
of the indirect voluntary and of a material cooperation. Both
principles have been debated generally by moralists and theologians with regard to their application to individual cases and
social politics, 53 but not yet formally with respect to international decisions. Yet, the moral obligation of Catholics to
further peace makes it opportune to establish some precise
rules governing human acts at the international level. Hence
our present endeavour to state the common thesis concerning the
moral value of external acts, 54 and especially of their external
•• Cf. Summa Theol., I-ll, On Human Acts; Merkelbach, Summa Theologiae

MMalis.
•• Ibid., q. 19, a. 8; q. !lO, a. 1-6.

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THOMAS

GREENWOOD

effects 55 which involve the use of the indirect voluntary and of
material cooperation.
As is well known, it is not permissible to posit a cause when
its sole effect is evil and is foreseen as such. The effect being
measured by the cause, its malice is imputable to the agent.
But the statesman can act with a clear conscience, when his
act has two effects, either independent of the other, provided
that he wills the good and that he has no obligation to avoid
the evil which is foreseen but not willed. The two effects must
be independent, in the sense that the good one is neither produced through the evil effect, nor caused by it directly and
exclusively. In individual actions, the good effect must be
immediate, simultaneous or at least equal to the evil one. 56
We do not believe it necessary to insist on this stipulation for
historical events: it is sufficient that the good effect comes
within a reasonable time, or at least appears prearranged in
the series of events pointing towards its appearance. However
in both cases, the act requires a just and proportionate reason.
Of equal importance is the remark that one is not compelled
to avoid the unwilled evil effect. Such an obligation can not
be made universal, for no man is capable of fulfilling all the
particular conditions of an act. Futhermore the morality
of an action depends on the value of its objective, of its motives,
and· of the means involved. It is independent of contributing
elements which are unintentional or accidental to the act
itsel£.57 If one insists on any particular obligation, it is always
possible to waive it with reasonable motives or proportionate
reasons.
With regard to positive cooperation, it is an effective participation in an evil act posited by someone else at the moment
of cooperation. The analysis of its various forms shows
that cooperation is directly imputable, if it involves formal
acquiescence to an evil action. However, the prudent stateslbid., q. 20, a. 5; q. 21, a. 5; II-II, q. 64, a. 7-8, q. 79 a. 3, ad Sum.
Merkelbach, op. cit., I, "De Actil:ms Humanis in Se," q. 3.
•• Summa Theol., II-II, q. 64, a. 7. It is also the unanimous opinion of moralists.
55

56

INTERNATIONAL

CASUISTICS

897

man can properly and materially cooperate in a bad act, by
using the rules of the indirect voluntary which determine the
licitness of the cooperation, according to the following principle:
H the evil effect of an action. is truly indirect in relation to
the act of cooperation, as when the latter involves an activity
which could be legitimate in other circumstances, a proportionately grave reason could make this cooperation licit." 58 In the
international field, the application of this principle is often
delicate and requires prudential considerations for each angle
of a particular act.
A Christian statesman can not avoid its use, when dealing
with other. statesmen who do not share his moral or re.ligious
convictions. This is especially urgent today, when international
life favours what is now called " Intercredal Cooperation "
or the cooperation of men of good will. But statesmen should
never consent to participate materially in an evil act, nor
exaggerate the use of the indirect voluntary, nor manifest a
general passivity in political matters, nor generalize a particular
casuistic judgment in order to permit an indifferent action,
or to favour a lesser good or to attain a minor good out of
proportion with concurrent evil effects. Because they have
often confused analogies with specific cases, Christian statesmen have been the partial cause of tragic and regrettable
events.
Indeed, the Christian statesman has the strict duty to work
for the perfection of the world. For this reason, he must always
inculcate the maximum good into a decision or an action which
imply doubtful elements. While avoiding the dangers of
laxism, he can help society positively by placing it on the way
to progress and perfection, through the practical actualization
of the common temporal good which gives us the peace of this
world.
As His Holiness Pius XII said, " Only a clear understanding
of the ends assigned by God to all human society, coupled
with a profound realization . of the sublime duties of social
68

J. B. Vitrant, Theologie Morale, p. :t6.

898

THOMAS GREENWOOD

work, can induce those to whom power has been conferred,
to accomplish their proper obligations in the legislative,
judiciary, or executive order with that impartiality, loyalty,
and incorruptibility, which a democratic government needs
in order to obtain the respect, confidence and obedience of
most people." 59
To be sure, this orientation towards the common good is
motivated ultimately by charity; the supernatural thus penetrates into the establishment of peace. It is true that all
nations do not have the same political philosophy and the
same social ideal. Hence their different or even irreconciliable
claims. Yet, it is to be hoped that their aspirations will be
reconciled and fulfilled according to the norms of justice.
For if each receive its dues, that is its reward or punishment
according to its merits, and if all the decisions are made in
the perspective of the common good visualized in the concrete,
then the supernatural would affirm itself even in those fields
where satisfaction is usually sought in an egoistic manner as
no attention is paid to international justice and charity.
The organization of international life in peace appears thus
as the concretization of a theological view of the universe. In
other words the reconstruction of the world basically requires
a theology. If Christian statesmen may be versed in the
theology of the partic;!ular good, they must also cultivate the
theology of the common good of nations. Further, since the
proper function of the wise is to order all things to God, the
concretization of this value must be established in the triple
perspective of the immediate good of each nation in particular,
of the collective good of human society and finally of the
supernatural good of man. It is understood also that each
of these perspectives entails various aspects of the fundamental
virtues as taught by natural law and Christian precepts.
Any attempt for peace motivated solely by the first of these
goods would be selfish; it would contain the seeds of a conflict
of egoisms leading to war, and it would thus sin against charity
•• Broadcast Christmas message Benignitas et H1.1111Wnitas, U Dec. 1944.

INTERNATIONAL

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399

and justice. Any solution favouring exclusively the supernatural good would be utopian, for we live in a world manifesting inevitable imperfections due to sin. The order of
creation requires that man attain his supernatural good through
this life, a task which implies conditions and obligations for
him as an individual and as a social being.
Finally, any decision caused by the first and second of these
goods only would be artificial and illusory, for it would appeal
to the false principle of the natural goodness of man and of
society. Without the indispensable corrective of supernatural
life, human passions would undermine internally a purely
humanitarian peace, and they would stir up social conflicts
and civil wars often worse than purely military conflicts. On
the other hand, any immediate and relative success obtained
eventually by an imperfect solution inevitably follows or is
based on a unifying vision of creation. Hence, it is improper
to sacrifice the supernatural good to other goods, or even to
dissociate the latter from the former. Only a correct integration of the specific elements of the three perspectives of the
good and their subordination to the supernatural could help
normally and practically to establish the rules of international
life.
The problem is pressing in the present circumstances of the
world. To be sure, if natural morality and Christian teachings
give us the precepts to follow in international decisions, the
resistance put up by human nature vitiated by sin forces the
wisest statesman to accept compromises as the ransom of the
concrete order. In this imperfect world where good and evil
are actually intertwined despite his wishes, the wise statesman
is usually obliged to chose the lesser evil among the alternatives
which confront his will.
The statesman conscious of the call of the supernatural is
thus compelled to deal with matters mostly beyond his direct
responsibility and affected by the blemishes caused by human
passion. Yet, despite the imperfection of his decisions, he
escapes all blame if he accomplishes his duties honestly and
with due regard to the Christian rules of justice and charity.

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THOMAS GREENWOOD

For this reason a wise statesman conscious of the primacy
of the common good and capable of exercising an influence upon
the turn of events has the obligation to participate efficiently
in the organization of a better world and to utilize prudently
the rights and privileges he may possess. Though it is naturally impossible for each man to forsee exactly the course of
events, it is desirable for a statesman to familiarize himself with
Christian principles on the one hand, and with the complex
contemporary problems on the other. For only then will he
be capable of judging the various alternatives presented to
him, and of choosing evntually the best immediate good in
the perspective of the true common good.
THOMAS

University of Montreal,
Montreal, Canada.

GREENWOOD

BOOK REVIEWS
Theologie des Realites Terrestres: Tome !-Prelude; Tome II-Theologie
de l'Histoire. By GusTAVE TmLs. Bruges: Desclee De Brouwer.
Pp. 200 & 144.
" In the vast stirring of ideas that affect temporal life-ideas concerning the reform of the state, the purification of family life, the
organization of professional life, the orientation of cultural spheres,
the evolution of work and technology, the ennobling of the fine artsChristian theology ought to have a word to say in the name of the
Most High." That Christian theology has a word to say, that it has a
right and a duty to say it, what, in part, it says, are the preoccupations
of Gustave Thils in his Theologie des Realities Terrestres.
While he is not the only one so preoccupied today, he is the first
to attempt a systematic study of the theology of created reality.
Hence, his work deserves an extended consideration.
Following a brief introduction, Thils ·considers, :first of all, the demands
of contemporary thought in regard to a theological judgment on created
reality. He then considers what such a theology should be, in itself
and in its basic principles. Lastly, he sketches some applications of
theology in the various spheres of created reality. The second volume
contains a more detailed consideration of the relation between theology
and history.

*

*

*

The Introduction is devoted to a rapid justification of the whole
project. The standard objection is raised: Catholicism is a supem_atural,
transcendent religion, whose essential task is to lead men to heaven;
it has no concern with the perfection of natural things, which would
necessarily be the object of a theology of such things. Especially in
our day, when men are almost totally devoted to the things of this
world, theology should be trying to turn their minds to God and heaven,
instead of investigating the transient things of this world. At this point,
Thils relies on several quotations from authority to justify his work.
He might have quoted from a more authoritative and unexpected source,
Pope Pius X, the enemy of modernism, who wrote: " The times are
indeed greatly changed. But, as we have more than once repeated,
nothing is changed in the life of the Church. From her Divine Founder
she has inherited the virtue of being able to supply at all times, however
much they may differ, all that is required, not only for the spiritual

401

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BOOK REVIEWS

welfare of souls, which is the direct object of her mission, but also everything that aids progress in true civilization, for this flows as a natural
consequence of that same mission." 1 Here is ample justification for
the task of bringing home to men "the Christian meaning of the world."
(p. 10)
There are some, who, moved by the past history of the Church, maintain
that the effect of the faith on the world and its institutions is implicit,
hidden, and slow-moving. 2 For centuries, the Church preached the
gospel to slaves and serfs, without ever preaching against slavery or
serfdom. The Church, they maintain, has never attempted to form a
Christian civilization. If one existed (and medieval civilization was very
imperfect from a Christian point of view), it was not the result of conscious effort on the part of the Church or churchmen.
Granting the lesson of history (although considerable reservations could
be made), we may ask: during the long centuries cited as examples of
this relation of the Church and the world, was there any one else explicitly,
openly, and with revolutionary rapidity, trying to form a non-Christian
civilization? Can the Church continue her quiet way when there is such
urgency as exists today?
Besides, the lessons of history are not all on one side. The manichaean
movement, for example, was strenuously opposed by the Church, not
only as a heresy, but as a natural blight. Another example: for centuries,
the Church and churchmen quietly learned from pagan philosophers
whatever was true and useful in them. But in the thirteenth century,
an influx of new writings and Arabic commentaries on Aristotle endangered
the balance of Christian thought. Intellectuals began toying with the
idea of a double truth, of reason and of faith. Much of St. Thomas'
scholarly life was devoted .explicitly to preventing such a breach; and he
succeeded.
The contemporary similiarities are obvious; yet our situation is much
worse, for it is more generalized and more deliberate. Furthermore, men are
more conscious of it and are looking for an answer. In fact, as the
author points out, there are numerous thinkers both in the West and in
the East who have been trying to formulate an adequate response.

*

*

*

The first part of Volume I is given over to a consideration of the
various thinkers who are calling for a theological synthesis of modern
life. With brief quotations, the author passes in review Catholics, ProEncyclical " lucunda sane," March Hl, 1904.
Cf. E. Mounier, "Foi Cbretienne et Civilization," in Foi in Jesus-Christ et le
}tfonde d'aujourd'hui. Editions de Flore, 1949.
1

2

BOOK REVIEWS

408

testants, and Orthodox Orientals. Maritain, de Lubac, Davenson are
among the Catholics; Banning represents a section_of Protestant thought;
Berdiae:ff,Boulgakor, Fedotov, and Soloviev are cited among the Easterners.
The representatives of the West are beginning to see what has happened
over the past few centuries to cause the breach between religion and
life. Despite the imperfections of the Middle Ages, there was a unity of
outlook in the West. There had been a long struggle against paganism
and barbarianism in order to achieve this unity and many, especially
among the upper classes, wished to preserve it without change. Yet
changes were bound to come about, for we are still on earth. The
changes could have been directed by Christian theology, but even the
theologians were opposed to change. So it took place without them.
We are the heirs of the vast changes that took place under the inspiration
of the Renaissance, the Protestant revolt, the scientific and industrial
revolutions. Spuming the direction of unsympathetic theologians, the
leaders in every field of human effort went forward, at first, indifferent to
the inspirations of Catholic faith, gradually, in direct opposition to it.
Today we Catholics have to live in two spheres-the religious, which
has become ever more vital under the attacks of enemies, and the temporal,
which is almost entirely in the hands of those same enemies, or, at least,
has grown under their inspiration .. No wonder then, that we find it
difficult to lead lives that are integrally Catholic.
Commenting on this situation, Thils makes a remark that might well
be a profound and consoling truth. He describes the world of the past
few centuries as " that great big kid who is at an age when he must
prove that he is 'somebody '" (p. 19) . Are the revolt against authority,
the self-conscious assertions of human independence and supremacy, the
ungainly attempts to coordinate the results of rapid development, all
merely signs of a " crisis of adolescence " that is affecting the Western
world. It might well be, for the Middle Ages bore many of the characteristics of childhood. Thus, we should look forward to a period of maturity
when the world would at last realize that the authority against which
it rebelled, if a bit old-fashioned at times, was really acting for its own
good, that the Christian ideal has retained all its validity.
The Orthodox East has its contribution to make to the maturation of
the West, for it has never lost its sense of the divine; in turn, it can
learn from the West a better appreciation of this world and its legitimate
needs. "The East, let us say, possesses God, but has neglected the
world; the West has given so much place to the world that it has lost
the sense of God; let us then unite the riches of the East and the West,
and create a theology that will terminate in a Christian vision of the
world and the universe, a liturgy that will overflow from the Churches
and reach the extremities of the earth. This would be an enrichment
for both East and West" {p.

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The efforts of the religious thinkers who have tried to respond to this
call for a Christian view of temporal realities have been directed, according
to Thils, to three principal ends, or rather to three aspects of the same
end. These are: l) to bridge the chasm that has grown between God
and the world; £) to reestablish a new and healthy harmony between
Christ and humanity; 3) to restore the union of religion and life.
Men certainly need such an integral view of their life if they are to
be Christians in the midst of the world; and how else are they to be
The Church needs a theology which will clarify such a
Christians?
view so that she may preach the way of holiness in the world to men of
the world. Yet, we may still doubt that this is God's wilL What of the
opposition between the City of God and the City of Man? Is this to
disappear eventually? What of the e:ffects of sin on human happiness
here below? Are we to look for a paradise on earth? That would seem
to be the aim of any effort to order all things under the light of revelation.
The author's answer to these doubts is quite balanced: "Prudent
and persevering effort in the direction of progress, without ever hoping
to obtain here below more than an incomplete good: such is the meaning
of Christian activity in the world. The Christian certainly does not
want to find a lost paradise or to create an Eden on earth. . . . Yet he
desires to install in whatever degree possible the order willed by God,
both in public and cultural life as well as in private life and the consciences
of men " (p. 44) .
In confirmation of this view, he quotes an extraordinary text from
St. Augustine: "Certainly we should never desire for men to be unhappy,
that we may do our works of mercy. You give bread to the hungry;
it would be better if there were no hungry, no one to give bread to. You
dothe the naked; but what if all were clothed and no such need existed?
. . . Would the fire of love die out? The love you bear for a happy
person, whom you cannot place under obligation, is a truer, purer, more
sincere love. For if you put an unhappy person under obligation to
you, you run the risk of feeling superior to him, of wanting him, who
has given you the chance to do good, to be inferior to you. Desire rather
that he be your equal: together submit yourselves to Him Who is obliged
to no one." 3
A desire, no matter how vehement or widespread, is not a sufficient
basis for asserting the possibility of a theology of terrestrial values.
Justification for such an extension of theological science must come from
theology itself. Can it supply the answer to the requests of modern
thinkers? In the second part of his first volume, Thils presents a brief
justification of a theology of wordly values.
• Retractaticmes, VIII, n. 5.

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405

Theology is the science of faith. It moves always under the light of
divine revelation, seeking to know what God thinks about the realities
that fall under its consideration. The principal reality is, of course, God
Himself. The secondary object of theology embraces all other reality in
its relation to God. A theology of creatures would fall under this secondary
object. But are there indications in revelation of God's thou!!ht concerning
technology, science, art, politics, culture, and so forth? As the author
points out, the formally revealed principles need not be many; theological
tracts on the angels, on the Mother of God, on St. Joseph, have beeu
developed from very few revealed principles. The theological task is
to penetrate the virtualities of formally revealed principles.
There is another important aspect of which the author treats. While
theology of itself is sufficient to judge of all things, in practice, because of
our imperfect grasp of it, uses all the subordinate sciences. Of these,
philosophy is the principal instrument in the hands of the theologian
for judging and ordering all human values. It should be pointed out,
however, that philosophy as it is possessed today, even Thomistic
philosophy, is not as apt an instrument as it might be. Logic is only
a pale reflection of what it ·should be and is obviously incapable of
penetrating the processes of modern mathematics and the experimental
sciences. Natural philosophy, the bridge between physical reality an4
metaphysics, has been withdrawing "from the senses," which, according
to Aristotle and St. Thomas, is a fatal mistake. The philosophy of
Plato, which could be an invaluable aid to the modern theologian in
questions of culture, is practically unknown to him and unappreciated. 4
A further point should also be made dear: not all the conclusions
in a science need be demonstrably necessary. There is always a wide
fringe of the probable in any organized science. This is especially true in
theology; but even the slightest knowledge about God and divine things
is worth having. We may not be able to say with absolute certitude
what God thinks, for example, about art or technology, but we can
arrive at a " good opinion." While there will always be a movement
towards certitude even in these probable conclusions, the· certitude itself
may not always be obtainable.

*

*

Coming closer to an actual working out of a theology of terrestrial
reality, the author points out that the focal point of such theological
consideration will naturally be man, for there is sufficient indication in
revelation that man is the center of the visible universe. It will be
a consideration of the concrete man, such as he is intended by God-a
• Cf. Plato's Philosophy of Man, by J. Wild. Ch. 1. Harvard University Press,
11!46.

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spectator of the whole universe (through his sciences), a lord of lower
creation (through his technology), an imitator of the Creator (through
his arts), a child of God (through his morality and supernatural religion) .
Furthermore, man in the concrete cannot be known or judged apart from
the God-Man, Jesus Christ, who is predestined by God to be the first-born
among many.
A theology of the world man lives in would therefore be an extension
of the theology of man. Its general part would parallel the great theological
tracts that have already given us a clear knowledge of the relation of
man to God: the creation and conservation of all things by God, the
government of creatures and their destiny according to the plans of God;
Providence and Predestination.
Then would follow a consideration of
the effect of man's fall on sub-human creatures and on the manifold
activities of man himself. Then the Redemption as wrought by Christ
and what effects it has on all created reality in and through man. A
final section would deal with the ultimate transformation of all creatures
at the last judgment. Only then would the theologian be in a position
to turn his attention to the various special tracts that should be included
in this theology. We feel that the reader might be interested in the
tracts that Thils suggests.
1. Theology of the sciences and of culture
Theology of human sentiments and ' mystiques '
3. Theology of the family and of educational groups
4. Theology of civil society or the state
5. Theology of the professional and working groups
6. Theology of the human body and of sports
7. Theology of matter and of the universe
8. Theology of technology
9. Theology of the arts
10. Theology of material goods and money
11. Theology of work
Theology of play
13. Theology of leisure and pastimes.

*

*

*

The author wisely points out that when we speak of the redemption
of creatures, which presupposes in some sense their fall and implies their
elevation to the supernatural, we are using concepts that formally belong
only to men, rational creatures; hence we are using analogy. Which type
of analogy? The author prefers the analogy of proper proportionality.
This is questionable. Later, he admits that art, for example, is not
formally supernatural. But here again, a return to the delicately complex

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teaching of St. Thomas on analogy is needed, before one can give a
clear-cut answer to the question.
A further distinction must also be kept in mind. It is, in fact, mentioned
by the author, though not all its implications are developed. Under
the term "created reality," or "terrestrial reality," we find all the creatures
below man on the scale of being. These are products of God and nature
and are essentially good in themselves, though they may be misused
by men. But there are also included other products of God and mansciences, arts, social, and political institutions; here a much sharper judgment must be made. These are not simple creatures capable of being
included under the general principle--all creation is good. There is a
human element in each one of them; they are produced by man and may
carry hidden germs of man's corruption. Thus the effect of original
sin on sub-human creatures and on art is quite distinct and distinct
judgments must be formulated about them.

*

*

*

In the fourth part of Volume I, the author considers (sketchily, he
admits) some particular fields where the theology of terrestrial reality
needs to be developed: these are--human societies, culture and civilization, technology, the arts, work. As an example of his procedure, we
shall consider the chapter on art, in which he aims to show how art is
in contact with the supernatural world of revelation (p. 174 ff.). There
are two sections to this chapter; one considers creation and art, the other,
the Redeemer and art.
In the beginning God created heaven and earth. The earth was a
chaos, no fit place for man, until it was organized by the Spirit of God.
Man, the technician and the artist, continues this work of the Spirit
under the direction of the Spirit. The work of the artist depends on
God both in its matter and in its form; for the artist must presuppose
his material, and the formal perfection he adds is an accidental being that is
reducible to God as first cause. The faculties of the artist are gifts of
God, the activity that :flows from these faculties and enriches the world
of matter is also under the dominion of God and of Christ. Of course,
men may be so fascinated by their power over matter as to forget the
influence of God. Nevertheless, God is the author of the talents that
some men use so happily.
Passing from the artist to his work, Thils points out that the work
of art, in the judgment of the theologian, has a twofold supernatural
finality: to render glory to God and to be of service to the baptized.
The work of art contains, as it were, an " ontological " glorification of
God; art clothes matter with human and spiritual values, which are
pure rays of perfections that are divine wisdom, order, harmony, clarity.

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The artist makes the world more like God, more an image, an icon, of
God. The artist fulfills God's command to men: subject them. Thils
suggests as an example a violin in the hands of a Kreisler.
The work of art is also at the service of the Cpristian in so far as it
contributes to the full terrestrial realization of one who is to be, later,
an elect. As St. Thomas noted: "All sciences and arts are ordered to
one thing, the perfection of man, which is his happiness." 5 By way of
explanation, Thils adds: . " Everything that a man assimilates-material,
spiritual, intellectual, supernatural goods-should be ordainable to his
fulfilment, his development. On the other hand, this man, of whom we
speak, is baptized, affected in his whole " christian " person by all the
goods he makes his own. That is why even artistic values bring their
contribution to the flowering of a " christian." That is their supernatural
finality and their theological explanation. And that is a new aspect of
the divine and christian meaning of a work of art " (p. 178) .
The author immediately becomes concerned lest he be misunderstood
and so he adds: "When one says that a work of art should be at the
service of the Christian and that it inbibes an original beauty from this
finality, it does not mean that art should take for its subject matter only
religious and sacred values. This would be to confuse christian and sacred.
A workof art is at the service of a Christian when the value of its beauty
and all other values it may have can be assimilated by one who is baptized
and can become in him a source of true gr()wth. It is the " ordainability "
of artistic beauty to the total formation of the baptized that counts most in
judging it to be " christian." A " sacred " art-some statue of St. Joseph,
for example-could contribute very little to the growth of the baptized
and hence be only slightly " christian " in the temporal sense. While
a fugue that had no connection with a sacred place could have a very
spiritualizing effect on its hearers and constitute a marked " christian "
value " (p. 179).
Later, in the section on the Redeemer and the arts, the author adds
another point to the " christianity " of art. Quoting G. Bernard, who
writes that in every order there exist arts that are more or less pure
and that a Bach is saner than a Debussy, Thils asks: "Could we not
say, transposing the sentiment of Bernard, that 'there exist in every
order arts that are more or less purified, immaterial, spiritual, and
"christian": a Bach is more "christian" than a Debussy'" (pp. 182-183).
Granting that the author had a limited amount of space at his disposal
for this sketch of a theology of art and admitting that many of his
principles are valid, we must say that in our opinion this is not the way
to work out such a theology. The following are some of our difficulties.
• In Lib. MetapkysicOTUm, prooemium.

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409

1) The author mentions just in passing that some men use the artistic
talents given them by God" happily." Only some men. Does that mean
that other men have artistic talents and do not use them at all; or use
them "unhappily."
If the latter, which is the logical meaning, then
we have a central problem from the theological standpoint of determining
what is a happy, what an unhappy use of artistic talents.
!t) Should not a theology of art above all try to determine what is
the distinction between a "sacred" art and a "profane" art? How
can one make a theological judgment about the relative value of a
mediocre statue of a saint and a brilliant musical composition without
first determining their relative finalities? From the tone of the passage
quoted, one is almost led to place all great " profane " art above " sacred "
art. What constitutes " sacred " art is certainly a question of vital interest
for a theologian. There is even the delicate question of whether a great
work of " sacred " art can be great in. the same formalities as a great work
of " profane " art. St. Thomas' distinction between the use of symbols in
theology and in poetry would be of assistance here.
3) Plato warned that similarities were difficult things to handle. Thils
does not, it seems, succeed in handling them very well. What does it
mean to say, as Bernard is quoted as saying, that Bach is saner than
Debussy? One person may be saner than another, without being insane;
yet one insane person may be called saner than another. Put the two groups
together and we have a hierarchy of sanity; of course, somewhere along
the line we pass the great difference between insanity and sanity. What
then about Bach being more "christian" than Debussy? A Protestant
is more " christian " than a Moslem, who in turn is more " christian "
than a Buddhist. But what of the differences? We have here the most
fundamental fallacy of modern thought-the ignoring of differences, the
selection of ever more generic likenesses. If such a technique is used .by
the theologian, he will fall into the error of " theologism," and will never
formulate a true theology of art or any other created good.
It is especially unfortunate that we do not have a well-developed
theology of art. Perhaps of all the fields of human endeavor, the field
of art is best disposed at the present time. Modern art has reached its
nadir; it can scarcely go further in unintelligibility. Even the artists
bear testimony to this in soine fields. Writers have allowed Stein and
Joyce to remain in their dead-end illiteracy; painters have about abandoned
their contrived kaleidoscopes; Matisse is now engaged in decorating a
Dominican Sister's chapel and Dali has flamboyantly announced his
return to his religious faith; modern music can hardly get duller or more
dissonant; and even the architects bemoan the condition of their art;
after all, one can't get beyond a straight line. When there is nothing
for the. technique of art to express, the artists start experimenting with

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the technique to see how far it can be pushed. Fortunately, the technique
of art cannot be pushed much further. The artist is bound to start
looking for something worth while to express by his art. That is why he
needs a theology of art.

*

*

*

G. Thils' second volume is concerned with a theology of history, that
is, with a theological interpretation of temporal duration. The early section
is reminiscent of the dialectical approach of an Aristotle. Thils presents
various contemporary opinions and works through_to his own presentation.
He affirms that human history has a meaning and that it is intelligible
in the light of divine revelation. He utilizes tl:.e contrast, Flesh-Spirit,
familiar to the student of St. John and St. Paul, as the basic revealed
insight into human history. Having explained its meaning according to
modern exegetes, he shows how it may be used as a criterion for judging
the phenomena of human history, as a guide for human action in the
temporal field, and as a prognostic of the future development of the human
struggle. He finds numerous reasons for optimism and they are well
founded. There is no reason to think, he says, that the battle between good
and evil here below will end in a tie.
While here again we would prefer much greater philosophical analysis,
the author has succeeded in presenting an excellent example of what
should be a theology of terrestrial reality. We hope that he wiU continue
his studies along these lines. We
hope that others will come to
his assistance; a thorough study of the Fathers of the Church on all these
questions would be invaluable.
There can be no doubt that in the traditional instruments of divine
revelation and sane philosophy we have the efficacious means to establish
a theology of the world we live in and thereby lead every intellect captive to
the truth and restore all things to Christ, which are the obligations placed
upon us by St. Paul.
JAMES M. EGAN, 0. P.
Collegia Angelicum,
Rome, Italy.

The Commonsense Psychiatry of Adolph Meyer. Selected papers edited
by Alfred Lief. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1948. Pp. 677. $6.50.
When Adolph Meyer died on March 17, 1950, he received what this
reviewer believed to be quite inadequate obituaries in both The New
York Times and The New York Herald Tribune. Here was a man who
was certainly one of the most outstanding thinkers psychiatry has had.
He was the man who by nature and training was able to integrate much of

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411

the knowledge of his time about people, knowledge formerly walled off
in medicine or education or sociology or philosophy which he was able
to put together in a total " science of man." The obituaries did not
recognize· this; rather both of them mentioned him as the man who in
1933 " made a nine month's study of Giuseppe Zangara, the assassin
who fired at the late President Franklin D. Roosevelt and killed Mayor
Anton Cermak of Chicago instead. 'We should decline the idea of a
criminal brain,' Dr. Meyer said afterward." (New York Herald Tribune,
March 18, 1950). This last statement implies that the answer as to
why Zangara was a criminal is to be found not in a study of the brain
but his whole life. To be sure, Dr. Meyer was a very careful student
of neuroanatomy and neuropathology. He undoubtedly studied this brain
very thoroughly because he had, prior to this time, been interested in
the assassins of President William McKinley and of President James
Garfield. He had thought then that these assassins were poorly handled
by the psychiatrists who failed to take into consideration the total life
history of these men. Certainly, if he spent nine months on the brain
of the 1933 assassin, he did it chiefly in order to answer those people
who would attempt to overlook a study of the facts of a man's life and
offer false but apparently scientific explanations based on brain anatomy
and brain physiology. Dr. Meyer was interested not only in the structural
functions of a person's brain; he wanted to know all the facts about that
person: his ambitions, his opportunities in life, his misfortunes, the
personality of his father and mother. All of the facts which helped
to shape the man ·were of interest to Adolph Meyer and to him a fact
was " anything that made a difference."
Adolph Meyer, the son of a Zwinglian minister, was born near Zurich,
Switzerland, on September 13, 1866. As a young boy he was undecided
whether to follow his fl!tther's career and go into theology and philosophy
or whether to follow the career of his mother's uncle and become a
physician. He decided on the latter course. After receiving his medical
education in Switzerland and part of his psychiatric orientation in England,
he arrived in 1892 in Chicago where a new university had been opened.
There he met John Dewey who was a life-long friend and who encouraged
him in a pluralistic approach to all of the problems of science. From
Chicago he went in 1895 to the Worcester State Hospital. Here he
emphasized that the pathologist should not be working downstairs in
the laboratory but rather should be working on the wards with the
patients to learn as much as possible about them. In 1902 he went
to the New York Institute of Pathology, the predecessor of the present
Psychiatric Institute of New York, in which he continued. his work,
begun at Worcester. He encouraged his young men to seek a completely
thorough life history of the patients, for he insisted
these were the

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real facts with which the doct9r should work. It was said later that
one could always tell a Meyer trained man by the thoroughness of his
history. Undoubtedly, even as a young man he was the outstanding
psychiatrist in America. Whenever a new important position opened,
Dr. Meyer was the man selected to fill it. This happened in Worcester,
again in New York, and when Johns Hopkins· Hospital, which was
already favored by having great men such as Halsted, Osler, and Kelly,
decided to have a psychiatric division, Dr. Meyer was chosen to head
it. From 1908, when he first started working with Henry Phipps, the
steel magnate, on the plans for the new clinic, until 1941, when he
retired at the age of seventy-five, he made the development of the Henry
Phipps Psychiatric Clinic at the Johns Hopkins Hospital his life work.
Under his guidance, the Phipps became one of the leading psychiatric
institutions in the world. Doctors came from everywhere to study at
the Phipps under Meyer and went back to become professors and leaders
in their own countries. He brought a thoroughness, a good sense, and
a dignity to the study of psychiatry which it had seldom previously had.
What are some of the leading ideas that Dr. Adolph Meyer developed?
When psychiatrists think of Adolph Meyer, they immediately think of
psychobiology-a term which to most of them is still a mystery. Actually,
Adolph Meyer was hoping by this term to break up the old dualism
between mind and body. He wanted people to realize that the mind
was not something mysterious but that rather it was something that
could be observed in action, particularly if one considered the total
behavior of the person: what he said and what he did. Meyer said
that the
in particular had the function of dealing with symbolspictures, words, sounds that stood for external facts which the mind could
then use to store as memories or to manipulate in reasoning. He
in particular that the brain
the bearer of mental life
and that it was through the brain that symbolization and the functions
of the mind were made possible.. He was always very careful to distinguish
between mind and soul and to state quite clearly that the soul was
ultra-biological and not, therefore, an object for biological study. He
was in no sense a disbeliever in a soul, but he was a very clear thinker
who was able to distinguish between brain, mind, and soul in a way
that most people cannot. Brain to him was an organic reality, mind
was a kind of functioning of the total person, soul was something ultrabiological or supernatural that was not to be studied with the objective
methods of science, but that, nevertheless, could be equally real. The
present day term of psychosomatic would be disturbing to Dr. Meyer,
because again there is this distinction between mind and body which
he thought was so useless and which he thought had too long been
continued. Psychobiology, then, to him was a study of the total person,

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413

a study of " a living body in action." He considered that one could
very carefully and accurately observe what a person did, record his
life histocy, and thereby come to an understanding about his life which
would make possible the prediction and control which are so necessary to
science. He was highly critical of the scientists of the past who had
taken the methods of physics and chemistry and who seemed to think
that by subdividing man's nature into smaller and smaller parts they
could come to understand it. He thought scientists had made two
mistakes, {I) that of "atomizing" and (2) that in attempting to
avoid mysticism so that they had gone too much toward materialism. He
stated clearly that the functions of science are ' to observe, formulate,
and test, and he thought that by taking the person's total life one could
perform all these functions of science in a perfectly real, simple mauner.
He went also toward pluralism because he thought that isolated particles
could not tell us all that was to be known.
Meyer regarded empiricism as being a practical, common-sense way
of learning what works. His psychiatric treatment was based on this
thorough study of the individual from which he hoped not only to learn
the problems which had defeated the person but also to discover the assets
and strengths which the person possessed that might aid in his recovery.
He thought that a person with a mental illness must be removed from the
surroundings which had played a part in the illness. He did not favor
particularly drugs and was, as a matter of fact, surprised'' that Americans
so much wanted drugs because the Germans did not. He taught that
certainly drugs should not replace simple obvious necessities such as
food and rest. He held that the patient should be taken to a small
hospital near the community in which he lived so that the doctors could
understand the kind of life problems which that particular patient had
had to face. His psychotherapy aimed toward action. He did not
believe that he had really achieved results in psychotherapy until the
was impressed that there
person went through to effective action.
were not simple causes for mental illness but rather that mental illness
very frequently had, in fact in all cases had, a multiple causation. He
was critical of those psychiatrists who had particularly, following the
Germans and Kraeplin, gone very much toward diagnosis. He considered
that this diagnosis was 'often intending to try to find an organic basis
for the condition, and he thought that it certainly didn't help better
to understand the person; in fact, he would rather work with the facts
as he found them than attempt by means of a diagnosis to make an
uncertain prediction about the future. He maintained that psychiatry
had " too much verbiage " and that many psychiatrists had made the
mistake of attempting to " neurologize " and explain on neurological bases

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things which really they could only understand by considering the total
life picture.
When Freud first developed his psychoanalysis, Meyer was very
receptive as he was bound to be to any new contribution to the field
of psychiatry. He felt that Freud had done a real service in emphasizing
the sexual factors, in bringing them out in the open, and particularly in
noting that there were early sexual manifestations. Later Meyer became
very disappointed to see that the new psychoanalytic theories led to
quarreling rather than to an attempt by various psychiatrists to understand one another. He could not accept really that there was an
unconscious, but rather he thought that within the mind there were
leading activities and other activities which were less leading. He
thought that the psychoanalysts were placing too much emphasis on
a part of the picture and considered that psychiatry was really much
broader than psychoanalysis. He believed that psychoanalysis presently
became over-dogmatic and developed mechanistic theories which he could
not accept. One does not get the impression in reading Meyer that his
opposition to psychoanalysis was based on what the analysts would call
" resistance," but rather that his opposition was based on his own knowledge
of the facts about people.
The interesting thing about reading Adolph Meyer is to find the very
sound and helpful ideas which he had on a great variety of subjects.
In mental hygiene he thought that the effort should be toward people
of those families in which there had been mental illness. He thought
that these people would be more receptive to the ideas of mental hygiene
and that they would be more in need of them. He was not an outright
advocate of heredity as all important in producing mental illness. He
considered it one of the factors, but he believed that by the proper
application of the principles of mental hygiene it would be possible to
prevent mental illness in the families of those whose parents or grandparents had been sick. As a matter of fact, his own mother had a
depression after he came to this country, and one gets the impression that
his knowledge of his mother's past life helped him a great deal to understand the kind of factors which may lead to mental illness. This knowledge
kept him from thinking that it was some kind of a purely organic difficulty.
In mental hygiene he emphasized the development of sound habits and
recognized early that schizophrenia might really be a" habit deterioration."
Recently there has been certain emphasis in psychiatry on a theory by
Bellak called " The Multiple Factor Psychosomatic Theory of Schizophrenia." Adolph Meyer forty years ago had a pluralistic psychobiological
theory of schizophrenia which included all and more than is stated in this
"new" theory.
In the field of education he felt that psychiatry had much to contribute

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415

and he thought further that psychiatry had much to learn from education.
The following are some simple examples of the kind of thing that he
believed: that homework was bad for a child and that the child should
really complete his work while he was in school so that he could go home
and take part in the life of his family; that school work should go much
beyond the formal lessons which were taught and should go more toward
helping a child actually to live life; that part-time students made a
better adjustment to life than full-time students. He was opposed to
learning by rote memory as a special activity in school and said that scientific
studies did not show that this really improved one's memory. As for
discipline, he went back to the Latin root of the word to show that it
meant a person who followed a leader, and he thought that there could
be this kind of discipline which was highly desirable and which would
not necessarily include punishment.
In the field of religion we see that all of his life lie recognized that
this was a need of man and he showed proper respect toward religion.
He was, however, opposed to any dogma of religion which would tend
to obscure or make useless or prevent the propagation of a known fact.
He fought against dogma in religion just as he fought dogma in science.
He was opposed really to theories of " exclusive salvation " but he did think
that it was very unfortunate that in the school system the religious
would probably proceed to paying more attention to the here and now
and to helping men to live in this world more successfully. He held
that it was very unfortunate that in the school system the religions
ethical values had been dropped, and he could see that their elimination
from the public school system increased the need for parochial schools.
He believed it possible to develop a " biologically sound idealism " which
would include all of the biological facts of man including religious supernatural nature and thus make man a happier, more effective, person.
What position may we as Catholics take toward psychiatry in general
and psychobiology in particular?
In the reviewer's opinion, Adolph
Meyer's teachings offer one of the best bases on which the Catholic or
any other person can approach psychiatry. His understanding of the
field was so broad that he included all of the possible factors that may
play a role in a person's life. He was humane. He was understanding. No
evidence exists that he was at any time in opposition to the Catholic
Church although he may well, on certain issues, have taken a position
different from that of the Church since he was the kind of person who
opposed dogma of any kind. He would have been as much against the
dogmas of science as he would have been against the dogmas of the Church,
but his opposition to the dogmas of the Church would have been present
only when they extended out of the field of theology and of morals and
into the field of scientific facts where he thought there was an evidence

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which contradicted the Church's position. As a matter of fact, as thinking
intelligent people, we have a very definite obligation to assume an attitude
not unlike that of Dr. Meyer's: 'constantly curious for new information and
yet very cautious about accepting information until scientifically proven.
Our own obligation extends beyond making certain that the new fact is
properly proven to seeing that this new fact is properly integrated and
synthesized into the already known knowledge which again was a function
that Adolph Meyer so often performed. As Catholics we have, however,
two further obligations toward new facts about man . such as may be
discovered by psychiatry and related sciences. One of these is to see that
these new facts are properly understood in relation to the teachings of
the Church and that they are not misused by the IT).aterialistsin attempts
. to disprove spiritual beliefs. The second obligatiPn is for each of us
to acquire all of the new knowledge that we can so that we may find
Christian solutions from the many problems in relation to man of our
own generation. By giving our psychiatric approach a broad base such
as that of psychobiology we will be able to integrate all of the new
knowledge and be able to have a total picture of man such as we could
not possibly have if we took up only one special division such as biochemistry, neurophysiology or psychoanalysis.
The reviewer has withheld his evaluation of the actual book until
now because he did not want to discourage the reader in the first paragraph.
This book, The Common Sense Psychiatry of Adolph Meyer by Alfred
Lief, is a collection of fifty-two papers by Adolph Meyer. Dr. Meyer
was a very thorough, conscientious person who found it very difficult
to express his thoughts in such a way that they satisfied him and that
they would be understandable to another person. Many of his students
did not understand his lectures, and in many of his papers the thoughts
are difficult to grasp. Because Adolph Meyer never wrote a textbook
Mr. Lief thought it would be wise to collect his outstanding papers.
This book does that. It is really .a source book of the principal papers
of Adolph Meyer. Most of these papers are extremely worthwhile but
as an English friend of mine, who had pleasantly anticipated reading
the book said, "It is profoundly dull." However, it is only dull if one
tries to hurry through it or if one tries to use it as other than a source
book. The material in it is a necessity for all people in the psychiatric
field who must know what Adolph Meyer thought or they will find themselves developing a new theory which Dr. Meyer had long before them.
Mr. Lief has made a contribution which has made the reading of the
book easier in that he has introduced twelve chapters of his own
which summarize the material that follows each of these chapters.
A suggestion in reading the book would be to read through these
twelve chapters and then go back to the particular papers of Dr. Meyer

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417

which are of interest at that time. The book Is one which each of
us should own and to which we should turn repeatedly to understand
the intelligent, scientific, and complete approach to psychiatry and
therefore to the understanding of man which Adolph Meyer developed.
RoBERT E. ARNOT, M.D.
The Institute of Living,
Hartford, Connecticut.

Citizen Thomwt More and his Utopia. By RussELL AMES. Princeton:
Princeton University Press, Hl49. Pp. Q38. $3.50.
Citizen Thomas lllore and His Utopia offers a new and important
historical perspective on Thomas More and the Utopia. A number of
exceptions may be taken to the book's main thesis, and there is room
for controversy about semantic implications in some of Dr. Ames's evaluations. But these matters do not lessen the general value of the work.
Dr. Ames's main contribution is historicaL He places the Utopia in
its concrete historical context, and, in so doing, he illuminates the life of
More in a way that could profitably be pursued by professional hagiographers. Dr. Ames generalizes his thesis in these words:
Though it is true that the Utopia is somewhat anti-capitalist, both from the
idealist-medieval and embryonic-socialist point of view, the core of the book is
republican, bourgeois, and democratic-the result of More's experience as a man
of business, as a politician, and as an Erasmian reformer.

Nearly all the words in the quoted statement have a wide ra,nge of connotation for different readers, and we shall illustrate their meaning as
Dr. Ames uses them. The term bourgeois might at first alarm an admirer
of the Saint, but the word has quite a different implication for Dr. Ames
than, let us say, for Leon Bloy. In leading to his thesis, the author
follows the type of investigation that is to be found in Lily B. Campbell's
Shakespeare's "Histories "'-Mirrors of Elizabethan Policy. Such investigation is founded on the historical fact that Renaissance social critics
frequently wrote about their times under conditions of analogy. Thus
Shakespeare is not writing his " histories " because of any passionate
regard for the past, but rather because he wishes to comment, for those
who have eyes and ears, upon the political conditions of Elizabeth's day.
The Essex conspirators did not attend Shakespeare's Richard II because
of medieval antiquarianism; they attended such a play because it was
a political manifesto in terms of analogy. Richard II was turned toward
Elizabethan policy and away from medieval history. More's Utopia was
turned away from " Utopia " and faced very vividly the present state of

8

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England. Dr. Ames shows how concrete a book the Utopia is; even its
vision of a better world is strictly related to the historical facts and
possibilities of the time. Utopia is not Utopian.
It is reasonable to assume that every item of criticism in Utopia recalled to well
informed readers precise events in current history, many of which may not be
easy to identify today.

I
What was More's position in regard to capitalism? From the viewpoint
of Dr. Ames, More's position was complex. More strongly criticized
decadent feudalism " in the interests of the ' best ' aspects of rising
capitalism, medieval and Renaissance."
Capitalism is an ambivalent
word. Obviously the medieval economic system, following in theory but
not in practice Roman Canon Law, had been superseded by More's time.
More's close relationship with the Mercers' Company (thoroughly investigated by Dr. Ames), his ambassadorial duties and missions were concerned
with contemporary trade and economics. More knew too much about
business to be a simple anti-capitalist doctrinaire. But a number of his
observations show how far-sighted he was in this matter; he could foresee
one direction that capitalism might, and did, take. Like Maritain in
our own day, More was not interested in salvaging historical forms but
rather in elucidating principles that could be implemented in their respective
individuated historical contexts. As Dr. Ames points out, the Guilds
were on their way out; More was not interested in Guild forms, but in
Guild principles. Capitalism as a means of creating and exchanging wealth
was an improvement technologically over the feudal system. Capitalism,
however, as a religion and system of morality ultimately denies Christian
principles. It does not require much intellectual subtlety to approve of
the one aspect of capitalism and to condemn the other, I have often
thought that in some ways, More's economic thinking and that of Henry
George (Progress and Poverty) offer profitable parallels. Both think
of capital in terms of the creation of wealth through labor and natural
increase; neither thinks of capital in terms of usury, of differentials by
deliberately stimulated fluctuations in the value of money, by deficit
financing, by the arbitrary creating or extinguishing of credits. They are
both opposed to the use of capital for the purpose of creating money
wealth at the cost of real wealth, the" economics of scarcity" or monoply.
Both are equally concerned with taxation, its meaning, and proper social
forms that would encourage, rather than militate against, productive
labor. As Dr. Ames points out, much of More's parliamentary activity
was concerned with taxation. Dr. Ames summarizes More's view of
mercantilism as indicated in the Utopia in these words:

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419

He differs froin later and more fully developed mercantilists in basing his objections
to luxuries on moral and philosophic grounds rather than on purely commercial
ones. His circulation of a capital has a charitable rather than a selfish character;
and in this, too, his thought is genuinely medieval and international rather than
mercantilist and national. It· would be wrong, however, to say that in these
things More stood for medieval collectivism and order against capitalist individualism and laissez-faire. Mercantilism demanded its o'wn kind of order, and
regulation was its dominant characteristic (p. 158).

The Utopia presents a controlled economy. It is not, however, a socialist
society in the Platonic sense. More does not say that the citizen exists
for the state or that .there are no rights anterior to those of the state.
Utopia is most definitely a "social welfare" state, and contemporaries
frequently misapply semantics here and would call such a state " socialistic." The Utopians are well situated in terms of basic needs and of
security, because of their soundly conceived state. But their society is
anti-capitalist in its rejection of luxury and of superfluity; supply and
demand are not related to money concentration but to social needs; in
Utopia a diamond is not the equivalent of several years of a professor's life,
nor a fur coat as valuable as a man's house. More insists on the dignity
of the worker-not merely on his dignity, but on the social superiority of
his function:
Not only does More show the poor man to be superior to the rich and mighty
in individual morality but he also, as some of the above quotations suggest,
extends the superiority into social values and economic theory. Following
scholastic theory, in a· rough way he anticipates the labor theory of
value which Benjamin Franklin and Karl Marx later developed; and his statements
on the primacy of labor have the quality of those made by Abraham Lincoln.
Near the end of Utopia, in a place of final emphasis, Hythlodaye asks what
justice is this, that " poore labourers, carters, yronsmythes, carpenters, and plowmen, by so greate and continual toyle, as drawing and bearinge beastes be skant
hable to susteine, and againe so necessary toyle, that 'without it no common wealth
were hable to continew and endure one yere, should yet get so harde and poore
a lyving ... ? " (p. 175-176)

Dr. Ames stresses More's emphasis on the responsibility of society for the
evil doer. It is a demension which was lacking in the thought of many
contemporaries, who smugly accepted the Late Augustinian thesis of the
essential perversion of man and whose social consciences were consequently
anaesthetized. But Dr. Ames seems to suggest that More finds the only
cause of evil in social compulsion, rather than the main cause in the
England of Henry VIII. Dr. Ames seems to stretch a point otherwise
basically sound.
II
By bourgeois Dr. Ames implies the interests of the middle class in the
economic sense. He does not mean the spiritual attitude so thoroughly

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and rightfully condemned by contemporary Catholic writers. More was
bourgeois in the sense that he was legitimately devoted to the legitimate
interests of the London middle class. Dr. Ames states:
Citizen Thomas More had little patience and little in common with the landed
aristocrat, the hliil.ter-warrior. Like his Utopians, he was thoroughly bourgeoisliil.chivalrous, peace-loving, intellectually aggressive. Whereas the slave-owner
Plato made the ideal citizen of his republic a soldier first, and a philosopher
second, the Utopian is a scholar first and a soldier only when he has to be. In our
time this same contrast has been noted-between the fascist and democratic idealsand in this, as in many matters, the thought of Thomas More remains a living
force (p. H4).

More insists on electoral processes in Utopia, together with many and
specific safeguards against any conspiracy to seize power from the top.
The King's power is thoroughly restricted and representative. Nor is there
any place for a feudal nobility or the new capitalist nobility that were
to enclose the lands of England:
And perhaps the chief characteristic of Utopia is its complete elimination of the
land-owning nobility, while the merchants, priests, and scholars remain, and the
peasants and citizens are merged into one city-country class. The age-old conflict
and inequality between city and country is here resolved, not by turning backward
to primitive village communism, but by mban socialism. The lives of the equal
citizens center in the towns in an atmosphere of culture, relative luxury, social
responsibility, and mutual helpfulness (p. 99).

Dr. Ames particularly stresses various continental movements, particularly
those of the Swiss Federation, that gave More his basis for the league of
cities in Utopia. More's vision of the well-ordered city in which poverty
(in the sense of deprivation) and wealth (in the sense of luxury) were
absent, in which work· was performed with moderation and decorum that
allowed time for contemplation, study, and social life, was historically
approximated in the Flemish towns so well known both to him and
Erasmus. Both More and Erasmus, from Dr. Ames's evidence, were not
monarchists, and preferred a middle class city-republican government.
The policies of kings and nobles, especially their wars and the taxation which
accompanied war, met with the consistent opposition of the Erasmian reformers
and their friends (p. 109).

More in a letter to Erasmus, just before the printing of the Utopia, points
out that it would be a greater honor for a prince to rule over free men
than over subjects. In the Utopia itself, "the anti-democratic point of
view is represented from time to time by a lawyer who provides Hythlodaye
with ample opportunity for anatomizing the English ruling dass ":

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421

The lawyer begins by praising the rigorous justice which has brought so many
thieves to the gallows, and he wonders why, then, there are so many thieves.
Hythlodaye says that, :rather than the extreme sentence of death, thieves should
be given a chance to make a living. But the lawyer insists that " the matter
is wel ynough provided for already. Ther must be handy craftes, there is husbandrye
to gette their livynge by, if they would not willingly be nought." In reply
Hythlodaye begins his surgery on the sick body of English economy, describing
the material causes of unemployment, vagabondage, theft, and vice--and these
are the maintenance of idle serving men by the nobility, monoply in sheep,
neglect of the breeding of beef cattle, price-fixing, and, above all, the destruction of
the peasantry by enclosing land for sheep pasture (p. 169).

As Dr. Ames points out, More clearly understood "the kind of inflexible
and stupid conservatism that he was up against."
Hythlodaye describes the behavior of conservatives confronted with unfamiliar
proposals: "If all other poore helpes fayle, then this is their extreame refuge.
These things (say they) pleased our fore-fathers and auncestors; would God we
could be so wise as thei were: and as though thei had wittely concluded the
matter, and with this answe:re stopped every man's mouth, they sitte downe
againe" (p. 168).

There is something peculiarly delightful about Citizen More, hard-hitting
and hard-headed social critic. The facts bear out the picture well, a
dimension equally important as that of humanist or Lord Chancellor or
Catholic apologist:
The English middle class had, of course, its leaders and spokesmen. Particularly
at the time of the writing of Utopia, Thomas More had become not only Ill
practical spokesman for sections of the middle class but an exceptionally advanced
social theoretician who " went beyond his own class " to champion the interests
of the peasant and the worker (p. 76) .

Of More's capacity in regard to social justice, Dr. Ames observes toward
the end of the book:
Such pity and indignation, such social analysis, is the triumph of Thomas More's
humanity and intellect over irrationality, prejudice, personal convenience, and
fear (p. 177) .

HI
What kind of picture did More present of Catholicism in its existential
sense at this historical period? From Dr. Ames's analysis, the viewpoint
of More is identical with that of Erasmus:
The basic harmony of More's and Erasmus' views had been ignored, minimized,
or denied by the hagiographic tradition of More scholarship, no doubt mainly
because Erasmus is "a dubious character from the point of view of the counterreformation " (p. 105).

BOOK REVIEWS

Erasmus has suffered at the hands of polemical scholarship because he was
an intellectual, dispassionate and universal, who had to thread his way
gingerly amid the mediocre and the bigoted. He cannot be made to follow a
" Catholic line " or a " Protestant line." His, like More's, was the type of
mind that accepted the complexity of the real. Erasmus, who advised Pope
Adrian to call a general Council and who refused in his late years to accept
a Cardinal's hat, was not a " dubious character " from the point of view
of the counter-reformation.
He is simply a dubious character from the
point of view of a handful of unintelligent and narrow-minded propagandists
who have mistaken themselves for Catholic historians. In a letter dated
July 14, 1532, More absolves Erasmus from the censure that was attached to
his In Praise of Folly for its picture of decadent clericalism. Erasmus is
not more to be reproached for the misconstruction put upon his words than
the early Fathers were to be blamed for the similar fate that befell them:
He who would wish to attribute this to you as a fault will labor hard doubtlessly
before he will find satisfactory way to excuse the very holiest doctors of the
ancient Church; for surely, if they saw this age of ours as they beheld their own,
they would have made many statements each to his own age more cautiously and
more clearly. Now, since they failed to do so, because while they were ministering
to the evils which confronted them future evils did not enter their minds, the
same thing happened to them, forsooth, that these people are now blaming you
for.

More in the Utopia gives scathing criticism of the existential Church.
This criticism was in the Catholic tradition; it was designed to make the
Church more Catholic rather than less. It is uninhibited and does not
pussyfoot:
The chief economic crime which More describes in Utopia, enclosure, is partly
laid to the account of the clergy. As was noted above, there are'" noblemen, and
gentlemen: yea and certeyn Abbottes, holy men " who " throw donne houses ...
plucke down townes, and leave nothing standynge, but only the churche to be
made a shepe-howse." Indeed, these " holy " men are rather emphasized among
the scoundrels who drive husbandmen and their wives and children into vagabondage
by " fraude, or by violent oppression," in order that " one covetous and unsatiable
cormaraunte and very plague of his natyve countrey maye compasse aboute and
inclose many thousand akers of grounde" (p. 140).

It is well to remember to what depths the Renaissance Church, in spite of
its outward splendor and vast land holdings, had sunk, not only on the
Continent but also in England. Many of the higher ecclesiastics were
primarily interested in politics and in war:
The humane and peace-loving conduct of Utopian priests during battles was
surely a serious reproach to popes like Julius II and to those English bishops and
abbots who fought at Flodden Field in l5U:l (p. 149).

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423

It is largely due to the defalcation of these responsible clergy that England
was lost to the Catholic Church. Belloc's thesis that the Faith was stolen
from the people of England is only one aspect of the problem. It would
be truer to say that the Bishops and Abbots of the time (with a few notable
exceptions) surrendered the Faith without a battle. The Bishops acknowledged in Convocation Henry VIII as head of the Church with the proviso,
"as far as the law of Christ allows." The only arguments that can support
this equivocation were pragmatic; but the equivocation, in fact, did not
work. The clergy submitted in May,
Eight years later there was
not a house of religion left in England. As Dr. Ames points out, " there
is good evidence from records of the time that the clergy took a large part
in the great wave of landgrabbing that was sweeping England."
The
evidence indicates that the clergy, with a few notable exceptions, lacked
the spiritual resources to be aware of the historical crisis of the time.
They were too much part and parcel of the contemporary environment.
They profited for a brief period on a pragmatic level and were then
extinguished.
More was an adult, unsentimental Catholic. He had to face issues in
the light of his intellect and of his conscience. He was asked in prison
why as a layman he was taking a stand not shared by the Bishops of
England. He replied that he was following the Universal Church, not the
decisions of the national bishops. He realized that the clergy were weak and
"lacked grace constantly to stand to their learning."
Dr. Ames overlooks the complexity of Catholic thought in one inference
he makes:
There is no point in trying to prove by involved reasoning that More was conservative, orthodox, and medieval. The organic impact of Utopia is not at all of
that quality.

Within the Church there is a wide range of intellection and fulfilment.
There would have been an enormous range between one of the Bishops
who fought at Flodden Field and More himself, or between, let us say,
Perhaps the
a Maritain today and a member of the Action
Church is not so conservative in the sense that Dr. Ames's semantics imply.
After aU, it is people like Thomas Aquinas, Thomas More, and Joan.of Arc
who have been raised to Her altars, not Torquemada, Cardinal Wolsey, or
a Queen Isabella. The saints are those who gave themselves, who contributed to God's "great blaze of being," not those who attempted to
possess and to retrench.
Dr. Ames in another section of his book modifies this estimate:
The Utopia is, then, neither libertarian nor conservative:
it is uncompromising
against atheism but extremely tolerent of religious differences, discussion, and
improvements.
More feared that if people were forced "by violence and threat-

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enings, if contention and debate in that behalfe should continuallye be used .
the best and holyest religion would be trodden underfote" (p. 148).

In my article," The Conception of Society in More's Utopia," (Thought,
September, 1947) , I presented what seems to me to be More's view on
religious toleration which, I pointed out, was analogous tO Maritain's
"pluralism." In Appendix A of Dr. Ames's book, the subject matter is
" Religious Toleration in Utopia vs. More's Persecution of Heretics."
While I do not believe this subject has been investigated along legal lines,
it is possible that the solution of this ambiguity is to be found
A
judge has to decide according to the written law of the land, even if he
personally questions its wisdom. I have not read a good paper on the
extent to which law at this period is mandatory or discretionary. It
would seem that this matter is worth looking into. More's " liberal "
view was not indicative, of course, of that of all Catholics. Lord Acton
in his essay on St. Bartholomew's Day reveals what the "strong arm"
approach to ideological error could ultimately mean in a complete travesty
of transcendent Christian principle. But More had anticipated according
to Roper in his Life the day we " wold gladly wishe to be at a league
and composition with them (heretics), to let them have their churches
quietly to themselves; so that they wold be contente to let us have ours
quietly to ourselves."
It is also significant
during the last years of More's life, till the
end of his chancellorship, there was not one death sentence pronounced
in the diocese of London (Chambers, Thomas More, p. 275).
WILLIAM J. GRACE

Fordham University,
New York, N. Y.

Psychologie et Morale aux XII• et XIII•Siecles: Tome 11, Premiere Partie.
By ODIN LoTTIN. Louvain: Editions de l'Abbaye du Mont Cesar,
1948. Pp. 597.
In an age when Christian civilization is experiencing violent upheavals
even from within its own family of nations and when American democracy,
one of its children, is no longer completely sure of itself and its origins,
the understanding of the foundations of Christian ethics assumes great
importance. In earlier ages, perhaps, Christian men could take for granted
the principles and values which they possessed in common. Our American
forefathers, for example, were satisfied in calling some of these truths
"self-evident" and letting it go at that. Now such basic concepts as the
dignity of man and fundamental rights no longer seem self-evident to
many and are openly rejected by not a few. In such a time, published

BOOK REVIEWS

research such as that of Abbe Lottin, on the ongm and development
of moral principles, is not simply a matter of historic interest but of prime,
immediate concern and practical value to all thinkers in the Christian
tradition.
It is impossible to appreciate not only our Christian ethical tradition
but our political and legal democracy if we have not in some measure"
retraced the tortuous path by which the essential moral principles governing
law and conscience, rights and duties, reason and instinct were gradually
unfolded, clarified, and defined. Much as we may be dazzled by the
material successes of Christian civilization and democracy and astounding
as each further advance of the physical sciences is, such physical achievements might well have been impossible had it not been for the earlier,
less spectacular but more necessary advances in the clarification of fundamental moral concepts. Roscoe Pound has recently said,
It is not an accident that jurisprudence and ethics and politics grew up and
reached what may prove their maximum before there was much development
of the physical sciences. The latter, indeed, could not have arisen nor gone far had
it not been for the stability and security brought about and maintained by the
former. If not so striking to the eye at first glance, the subjection of human
behavior to the exigencies of civilized life by ordered application of the force of
politically organized society which has developed in the western world since the
chaos of the earlier Middle Ages, is quite as significant as anything which has
been done in the same time toward the harnessing of external nature to man's
use!

For these reasons especially, the work of Abbe Lottin in his second
volume, Problemes de Morale (Premiere Partie) will be of very special
interest to American scholars. The first part of this series deals with
the development of psychology in the 12th and 18th centuries. Here,
in this second volume, is presented a series of researches in law and moral
principles. It is a thorough and painstaking work. With a facility that
belies the intense resea,rch that went into it, the author takes us, on each
point, through the whole scholastic tradition which. preceded St. Thomas
and shows us the delicate process by which changes in phraseology and
understanding gradually found their full expression ilvthe precise definitions
of the 18th century and especially of St. Thomas. .
The volume takes up in order the question of law in general, and the
relations of the eternal and natural law. It
considers the associated
concepts of synderesis and of conscience. This is followed by a study on
the nature of conscience and by two chapters on the normative value of
1 Roscoe Pound:
"The Future of American Law," Seminar, Annual Extraordinary
Number of The Jurist, Volume IV, published by the School of. Canon Law, The
Catholic University of America, 1946, p. 8.

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conscience and on the manner in which, in the 13th century, doubts of
conscience were resolved.
One of the most helpful things about Abbe Lottin's study on the problems
of morals is the way in which he gathers together the opinions of significant
medieval writers around the different points treated. In a series of two
or three short paragraphs, the reader gets an overall picture. The following
short excerpt illustrates this:
La premiere propriete attribue a Ia loi naturelle par les theologiens du XIIe
et du XIUe siecles est son inneite.
Les regles fondamentales de la loi naturelle, dit-on dans l'ecole d'Anselme de
Laon, sont inscrites au coeur de l'homme. Ainsi parlent les theologiens, Hugnes
de Saint-Victor et tons unanimement.
Guillaume d'Auxerre insiste longnement sur cette propriete, a la maniere de
saint Augustin: en voyant Dieu, l'ame connait Ia souveraine bonte et en celle-ci
toutes les regles de la bonte morale.
Saint Albert le Grand, on l'a vu, integre dans Ia loi naturelle les conclusions
les plus proches qu'on en deduit; malgre cette concession, i1 revendique l'inneite
de la loi naturelle, parce que celle-ci se constitue avant tout des premiers principes
qui nous sont inw\s.
Saint Thomas lui-meme suit son maitre:
tout en faisant consister Ia loi
naturelle dans des jugements de Ia raison pratique, et done dans des actes de la
raison, il conserve la formule consacree par un usage seculaire, praecepta prima
et communia sunt scripta in ratione naturali quasi per se nota." (p. 97)

Again on the question of the immutability and the universality of the
natural law, the same easy scholarship leads us rapidly from the views
of one medieval writer to the other:
La seconde propriete de la loi naturelle est son immutabilite.
Dans quel sens
Ia loi naturelle est-elle immuable? Si elle est immuable, elle est du meme coup
universelle; mais au surplus n'est-elle pas indispensable? Et dans ce cas, Dieu peutil en dispenser? Autant d'aspects d'une meme propriete fondamentale.
Gratien souligne cette immutabilite, nee variatur tempore sed immutabile permanet.
Mais nne difficnlte surgit: le meme Gratien, apres Isidore de 8eville, affirme que
l'indivision des terres est de droit nature!; comment la propriete privee peut-elle
aussi etre de droit nature!? Rufin trouva la formule: , l'indivision des terres de
l'humanite primitive n'etait pas un precepte strict, mais une simple demonstratio,
variable selon les circonstances.
L'explication de Rufin fit fortune chez les
decretistes, mais eut peu d'echo dans le monde theologique.
Guillaume d'Auxerre reprend cependant Ia formule de Rufin, mais il en change
le sens: l'indivision des terres est nne demonstratio qui etait obligatoire dans
l'etat de justice originelle; Ia propriete privee est, dans J'etat de l'humanite
dechue, une tolerance, ou si l'on veut un mal necessaire.
La formule meme de demonstratio disparait avec Albert le Grand, c'est la ratio
naturalis qui dictait l'indivision des terres aux temps primitifs; et c'est cette
meme ratio naturalis qui dicte le regime de propriete privee dans l' etat actuel de
l'humanite.
C'est a peu pres dans le meme sens que saint Thomas d'Aquin fait relever le

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427

reg1me de propriete pnvee du ius gentium d'Ulpien, entendez le droit naturel
specifiquement humain, relevant de la ratio naturalis." (Pp. 97-98)

In this way the reader is saved the labor of going through many of these
writers. Abbe Lottin gives him the precise contribution which they made
to any one particular moral principle or theory. Most of us do not have
libraries immediately at hand which would contain the works, especially
of the little known medieval writers. Even if such works were available,
it would be very difficult to cull out from their many writings, as Abbe
Lottin has done, the gist of their position on any one phase of moral science.
It is extremely helpful to have such a volume as this which unfolds in so
concise and orderly a way the vast sweep of medieval thinking.
In his treatment of particular writers, especially St. Thomas, the author
is also precise, brief, and at the same time accurate. One of the great
difficulties in reading St. Thomas is that he sometimes develops his ideas
about a particular question in a variety of places. One has the same
problems of the need of a library which contains these different writings
of St. Thomas and the great amount of time and labor involved in
paralleling the different texts. Again Abbe Lottin does this for us admirably, first giving us the references in St. Thomas where we may find
statements of his position and then giving a resume of Thomistic thought
on the question. We notice this in the following excerpt on synderesis:
Saint Thomas D'Aquin a etudie Ia synderese et Ia conscience a trois reprises:
dans son Commentaire des Sentences
dans le De Veritate
et dans la Somme theologique.
JL Le Commentaire des Sentences n'offre pas les cadres du traite de Ia synderese
tels qu'on les a vus chez Albert le Grand; les questions y sont toutefois suffisamment
abordees.
La synderese est-elle nne puissance on un habitus? Saint Thomas apporte pour
et contre Ia these maintes raisons dont plusieurs n'ont pu etre empruntees qu'a
Albert le Grand.
Dans Ia nature, repond saint Thomas, tout mouvement procede d'un moteur immobile; et tout ce qui presente des varietes se fonde sur un principe invariable. TI en
sera done de merne de la raison. Car Ia raison, elle aussi, est en mou:vement,
puis qu'elle conduit les principes jusqu'aux conclusions; dans ce processus d'ailleurs
elle presente nne grande variete d'allure, qui !'expose a bien des erreurs. n faut
done un premier principle de connaissance, immobile, invariable, qui garantisse la
rectitude de ses demarches. Aussi bien, dans l'ordre de la connaissance speculative,
y a-t-il a Ia source de tous nos raisonnements quelques principes evidents par
eux-memes, et dont l'habitus s'appelle "intellect."
Et des lors, dans l'ordre de Ia
raison pratique, il faut a l'origine de ses demarches quelques principes connaissables
par eux-memes; tels ceux-ci: il faut eviter le mal, obeir a Dieu. Or, !'habitus de
ces premiers principes directifs de !'action n'est autre que la synderese.
La synderese ne se distingue done pas de la raison pratique, comme une faculte
se distinguerait d'une autre faculte puisqu'elle n'en est que l'habitus.
Cet habitus est-il inne?
Oui, d'une certaine maniere, quodammodo.
La

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connaissance des premiers principes de la raison pratique, comme celle des
premieres verites de la raison specnlative, a son point de depart dans Ia connaissance sensible ou la memoire; mais des que les termes sont connus, le rapport
qui les relie entre eux est evident par lui-meme, par la seule lumiere de !'intellect
agent, sans nul recours aux industries du :raisonnement.
La conclusion semble done bien s'imposer: la synderese est nn habitus inne,
et non nne faculte." (Pp. 222-223)

One of the most important sections of the book is the rather long part
on the obligation of conscience. Here the author goes through the
ment of the thinking of the early moralists on the question of conscience
and particularly on the problems of the erroneous conscience. In his usual
manner he makes a concise, accurate survey of St. Thomas's predecessors
and contemporaries and then he presents the position of St. Thomas, which,
in the author's opinion, hinges on the question of ignorance:
On devine que Ia solution depend d'une doctrine sur !'ignorance, cause de la
conscience erronee. Si cette ignorance est coupable, sa malice ne peut que se
communiquer a l'aete qui en derive." (p. 404)

There follows an excellent delineation of the position of St. Thomas
on ignorance where St. Thomas divides universal ignorance or ignorance
of law and particular ignorance or ignorance of an individual fact. In
explaining this point there is a detailed discussion of three questions:
utrum conscientia e·rrans obliget, utrum conscientia erronea excuset, utrum
voluntw concordans rationis erranti sit bona. (p. 405)
The essay entitled "La Moralite Intrinseque " contains a particularly
clear and coordinated discussion of what St. Thomas added to the clarifications that went before him, especially those of Albert, Peter Lombard,
and the Chancelier Philippe on the question of goodness:
C'est Ie jeune Thomas D'Aquin qui a recueilli et redige le Commentaire d'Albert
sur l'Ethique que nons venous de citer.
Comment, laisse a Ia liberte des ses mouvements, saint Thomas va-t-il delinir
les formules en cause?
Nons nons bornerons a !'expose qu'il fit dans son Commentaire sur les Sentences,
notre but etant ici, avant tout, de rattacher saint Thomas a ses predecesseurs.
Le saint Docteur se propose d'examiner le bien-fonde de la classification etablie par
Pierre Lombard, du bonum in genereJ, ex fine et causa. Mais il saisit cette occasion
pour discuter les deux definitions courantes du bien in genere: id quod potest bene et
male fieri, et celle vulgarisee par Philippe: actus cadens supra materiam debitam. La
premiere de celles-ci a-t-elle un sens? Si une perfection convient a un etre ex suo
gene:re, aucune difference specifique ulterieure ne pent la lui eulever: comment done
un acte bon ex genere peut-il devenir manvais? La definition du Chancelier vautelle mieux? Car qui dit bien dit lin, or le concept de fin est entierement etranger
a celui de matiere par lequel on pretend definir le bien in
La classification
dn Lombard semble a son tour deficiente: on y parle de bien in genere; mais a
tout genre correspond une espece; ou tronve-t-on dans cette · classification une

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bonre ll(IJ specie? De
ce reproche s'appuie sur la definition de Philippela matiere d'un acte n'est autre que son objet; or l'objet se definit par la fin;
alors le Lombard peut-il distinguer le bien in ge:nere du bien ll(IJ fine?
D faut d'abord, repond saint Thomas, distinguer une bonre inherente a l'acte
en tant qu'acte, c'est-a-dire en ta,nt que cet acte procede de son principe efficient,
la faculte, enracinee elle-meme dans la nature de l'etre: saint ThomaS visiblement
songe ici au bonum eaae:ntia dont avait parle le Lombard. Mais, pour suit-il,
quand il s'agit d'acte humain, il faut noter que cet acte, procedant d'une volonte
libre, est determinable en sens divers. La determination lui viendra done d'ailleurs,
c'est-8.-dire de son objet, et si celui-ci est convenable, l'acte en recevra une bonte
nouvelle. Comment la denommer? La premiere determination d'tm etre lui vient
de sa forme generique; on dira done que la bonte acquise a l'acte par son objet est
une bonre ll(IJ ge:nere. Cette bonte ll(IJ objecto ou ll(IJ ge:nere peut, a son tour, se
revetir d'une bonte ulterieure, de meme que la forme generique se determine
par
forme specifique; cette bonte derive des circonstances de l'acte, entre autres
de Ia fin; et finalement l'acte sera parfaitement bon, s'il procede d'un habitus
vertueux.
La doctrine est limpide, enrichie de cette ·equation nouvelle: le bonum ll(IJ ge:nere
est le bonum ll(IJ obiecto.
La doctrine etant posee, saint Thomas n'eprouve aucune difficulte a admettre les
formules courantes. La definition: ill quod poteat bene et male fieri peut etre
maintenue; mais elle signifiera, non pas que la bonte ll(IJ ge:nere puisse etre enlevee
a l'acte, mais que, subsistant, elle est privee de Ia bonte ulterieure que pourraient
lui. conferer les circonstances." (Pp. 460-461)

la

For those especially interested in the widely discussed question of
indifferent acts, there is a detailed review of the historical development of
that question and St. Thomas' position on it, entitled, " L'Indifference
Des Actes Humaines Chez Saint Thomas D'Aquin et Ses Predecesseurs."
The final section of the book which covers over 100 pages and is therefore one of the longest, is entitled, " Les Mouvements Premiers de L' Appetit
Sensitif de Pierre Lombard a Saint Thomas D'Aquin." Here Abbe Lottin
takes up the problem of the effects of original sin in relationship to
ignorance and concupiscence. He raises a number of questions:
Mais toute ignorance de Ia raison, tout mouvement deregle de l'appetit sensitif
sont-ils pour autant des peches? On le voit, cette double question rentre sous
la rubrique generale du peche de negligence: l'homme est-il colipable du seul
fait d'avoir neglige de dissiper son ignorance; l'homme est-il coupable du seul fait
d'avoir neglige de reprimer les mouvements desordonnes de sa sensibilite?
Nous touchons au probteme fondamental de Ia responsabilite humaine; et il sera
utile de penetrer Ia mentalite des .theologiens du moyen age concernant une des
questions les plus graves de Ia morale." (p. 498)

In a long survey he unfolds for us the gradual development of the
thinking which found expression finally in St. Thomas. This survey
includes such writers as Pierre de Poiters, Pierre de Capoue, Prevostin de
Cremone, Etienne Langton and others of whom the general rf;!ader not

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trained in medieval scholarship will not have heard. Abbe Lottin does
not however neglect the better-known writers and there is a rather complete
treatment of the opinions of St. Bonaventure and St. Albert the Great
as well as St. Thomas on this question.
St. Thomas's position comes from his distinction of three types of
" mouvements premiers ":
Des le Oomme:ntaire des Sentences (1258-1257), Ia doctrine de saint Thomas
est fixee.
Le saint Docteur prend d'abord soin de definir le terme de "mouvement
premier." On peut, ecrit-il, distinguer trois especes de mouvements en nous,
parce qu'on peut y discerner trois especes de tendances: L'appetit nature! l'appetit
rationnel, et, a mi-chemin, l'appetit sensitif. L'appetit nature! resulte· des dispositions
organiques, entierement independantes de toute connaissance; de lui releve tout ce
qui se rapporte a Ia vie vegetative, tels les phenomenes de !'assimilation, de !'evolution embryologique. A !'extreme oppose, l'appetit rationnel resulte de la representation intellectuelle ou la raison, connaissant la fin et la proportion des moyens a la
fin, dirige la conduite de la vie. Entre ces deux extremes vient s'inserer l'appetit
sensitif. qui, lui aussi, procede d'une connaissance prealable, mais sensitive, perception des sens extemes ou imagination.
Or, poursuit saint Thomas, quand nous affirmons que les mouvements premiers
sont peche veniel, nous n'entendons point parler des mouvements desordonnes
resultant de causes naturelles, entierement soustraites a !'empire de la raison,
mais uniquement de ceux qui procedent d'une representation sensible prealable.
Nous retrouvons ici Ia distinction introduite par Guillaume d'Auxerre." (pp. 579580)

The book has another valuable feature. At the end of each section
there is an integrating chapter called Vue d'Ensemble wherein one can
get a quick view of the development of each question. This aids in going
back and checking the quotations of particular writers especially in relation
to St. Thomas.
This volume spreads a vast panorama of medieval thought. Ample
treatment is given the better known writers like Abelard, Peter Lombard,
Albert the Great, and St. Thomas without neglecting many of the less
known whose contributions on a particular point are sometimes surprising.
The author mentions many seldom quoted writers such as Hannibald et
Romain de Rome, Jean Quidort, Godefroid de Fontaines, Pierre D'Auvergne,
and Bernard D'Auvergne. He also treats the positions of different schools.
Thus, on the question of moral problems relative to conscience, he treats
first the position of the Franciscan masters, then the secular writers, and
finally St. Thomas and his contemporaries.
To the present reader the most interesting section of the book was the
treatment of law in general. This section, too, best illustrates the method
of the author as he explains himself on this question of law:

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431

Jusqu'ici nons avons interprete saint Thomas par ses predecesseurs; et nons
avons vu dans Ia definition thomiste nne synthese originale de donnees anterieures.
Mais la valeur et l'originalite de cette synthese apparaitra mieux quand nons
aurons considere Ia plenitude de sens que saint Thomas attribue a chacun de ses
elements.
Pour penetrer le sens de Ia formule thorniste, nons allons dorenavant, interpreter
saint Thomas par lui-meme, en recourant a ses ecrits. Sans doute, !e Docteur
angelique n'a jamais traite ex professo cette question, avant Ia redaction de Ia
Somme theologique: nons pourrons cependant recueillir au cours de son oeuvre
quelques donnees instructives.
Nons avons d'ailleurs nne autre source d'information: Ia comparaison attentive
de Ia loi, acte du !egislatenr qui oriente l'activite de ses snjets vers le bien commun,
avec ['imperium, acte par lequel l'homme oriente sa propre activite vers le but qu'il
s'est propose." (p. Q5)

In our time the established ethical concepts of the Christian tradition
are meeting on the one hand a Marxian dialectics and on the other a
pragmatism, both of which are destructive of the philosophy of natural
rights. It is therefore extremely important that the reasoning of St.
Thomas and his predecessors on these matters be brought consciously
to our attention and understanding.
In the light of all the confusion
which exists even on the highest levels of jurisprudence, it is a most
satisfying experience to follow Abbe Lottin's unfolding of St. Thomas'
thinking on law as the Angelic Doctor says with his characteristic
Quatre elements concourent a
Ia Ioi. La loi est oeuvre de raison,
lex est aliquid rationis (I• II••, q. 90, a. 1). La loi est toujours orientee vers le
bien cornmun, ordinatio ad bonum commune (art. 2). La loi est cree par celui
qui a en mains les interets de la communaute, ab eo qui curam communitatis habet
(art. 3). La loi enfin n'a force de loi que par la promulgation, promulgata (art.4) ."
(p. 25)

These four simple statements of St. Thomas contain one of the finest
contributions of Western civilization. They express the highest dignity of
man as a reasonable being, who can live together in peace with his fellows
provided he subjects himself to what is the reasonable determination of
the community. Seen in this light, law is in no sense a violation of man's
freedom but is the preservation of what is highest in human nature and
the guide to aid him in knowing what actions are the fulfillment of his
reasonable nature and rightly orientated emotions. The historical questions
like these which the mind of St. Thomas, his contemporaries, and his
predecessors groped with and delineated with remarkable clarity and
precision, are not merely historical but are of intense immediate practical
application. The Thomist today must know the origin of the ideas and
principles which he propounds. He needs to be aware of the chaos which
awaits our nation and perhaps civilization itself if he fails to bring to the
modern mind the tremendous deposit of learning which is his. For these

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questions which tested the minds of the medieval writers are still with us
today and demand of us an even greater concern.
To aid us in our task, we are indeed fortunate to have at hand the
scholarship of Abbe Lottin.
CHARLES A. CURRAN

St. Charlea CoUege,
Columbus, Ohio

Power and Morals. By MARTIN J. HILLENBRAND. New York: Columbia
University Press, 1949. Pp. 281 with index. $8.25.
The author is characterized, on the jacket, as a career diplomat and
political scientist; in his first quality he has had the opportunity to collect
first hand evidence in :m:any parts of the world, among which are Germany
and India. His scholarly training he received at Columbia University
from which he graduated in 1989.
In his preface, the author disclaims the intention of offering a solution
of the fundamental problems of politics and social organization; but he
hopes to cqntribute to the clarification of these problems, and justly remarks
that a problem must first be envisaged in perfect clarity before a solution can
be attempted. " What will emerge, I trust, is the outline of a political
the servant of man rather
philosophy in terms of which power may
than the master of his destiny." The political philosophy on which the
reflections of the author rest, is that of Scholasticism, particularly the
notion of natural law.
The first part of the work posits the Problem of Power and points out
that modem theory has failed in face of the totalitarian challenge and
that, therefore, a new and valid theory must be found. The second part
deals with The Ordering of Power under the headings: Natural Law for
the Twentieth Century, The Function of Violence, and The Power of
Authority and Liberty,
Power of force can be controlled by greater power; but this ought to be
controlled in tum, since it can be misused. Hence, the solution cannot be
found on the level of physical power. If a solution is possible at all, it
requires the general recognition of criteria for the use of power and the
obligation to observe these criteria. Without the acknowledgment of some
influence of theory an intelligent discussion of the problem of power is
impossible. Though the acceptance of an ethical code does not guarantee
that it will not be violated, its abandoiunent has been the cause of political
catastrophes in the past and in the present. The philosophies back of the
totalitarian movements of the last quarter of the century arose because
the current philosophies or ethical theories lived on the tenuous heritage

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483

of an ethical past and, at the same time, repudiated the philosophy on
which this ethics was founded. The same situation prevails to-day. "The
victory of the United Nations could not in itself make modern thought
less ethically bankrupt."
Politics, like all other human activities, rests on evaluations. These
cannot be limited to the sphere of pblitics alone; they have no validity
unless they are linked with assumptions outside of the political sphere.
In other words: without a comprehensive metaphysics and a general ethics
no system of human action can be given a sound theoretical foundation.
The problem of power, too, can be solved only within such a general
frame. The current, " essentially secular lines of approach " have proven
insufficient to supply such a frame. Of these, there are three types: the
positivistic, utilitarian, pragmatistic conception, which the author justly
calls "birds of one feather," the contractualist, and the legalist theories.
It is not possible to render here the penetrating analysis to which the
author subjects these conceptions. It is worth while reading; some passages
are highly stimulating, as that dealing with the overt and hidden influence
of Hume's ideas.
To establish any valid theory in ethics, one must admit certitude of
knowledge as attainable; secondly, maintain that man possesses free will
and is capable of self-determination; thirdly, recognize the unique value
of the human person. A valid theory, the author contends, may be found
" in the traditional concept of the natural law, revitalized and dean&ed
The misrepresentations are indeed
from the dross of misrepresentation."
for
numerous, and some rather amazing; one is grateful to the
doing away with them. Law involves a norm of conduct for free and
rational men, and must be found where the philosophers of old found it:
in human nature itself, taken in the fullness of its being and relations.
A tentative definition is proposed: " the ;natural law is a moral norm of
action which reason discovers by examination of the functional order that
exists objectively in the nature of man: and chis relation to other men and
to the external world." The law is not " felt," but cognized by means
of observation and reasoning. The author emphasizes that to human nature
as the norm of morality, there is "added the act of a higher Legislator
speaking through the medium of the natural law."
Although appreciative of the moral background of the theory of "
violence," the author realizes that this idea is based on the hypothesis of
the fundamental unity of all being, and thus " exposed to the same basic
criticism as any monistic concept of reality." The absolute condemnation
of all use of force or violence cannot be justified in terms of a positive
code deriving logically from a basic philosophy of values. Conflict§
between individuals, between an individual and an association, or between
associations, may lead to the use of _physical violence. Use of violence

9

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BOOK REVIEWS

is, of· course, never good in itself, it is justifiable only in defense of a
superior right. In fact, the advocates of non-violence concentrate on
group and mass actions and do not consider the ethical problem of the
individual faced with great and immediate danger. The state has the
function to maintain order and to carry out all those activities which
are directed towards the achievement of justice and general happiness;
to fulfill this function, violence is necessary and, therefore, justified. It
is also in international conflicts. Violence can protect right against
counter-violence; but its function is essentially negative and non-creative,
nor can it convince.
The last chapter, of more than fifty pages, is the longest; it is devoted to
the discussion of authority and liberty and their relation to power. Here
too, the author relies on the notions developed in Scholastic philosophy;
in regard to the problem of authority he refers to Aquinas, Bellarmine,
and Suarez, whereas he makes his own the fourfold division of liberties
as proposed by Don Sturzo. (Inner Laws of Society). Throughout this
discussion the emphasis is on the necessity that an ethical system be
derived from a coherent philosophy of values. To stress this is undoubtedly
important; no student of our times can fail to discover that it is here that
modern man has suffered the most severe losses. It is true, as the .author
says, that the threat to-day in not the " unprincipled man," but the one
who fanatically proclaims an unsound morality. It is equally true that
the all-pervading relativism has shattered man's confidence in the meaningfulness of the world and his life, and that without a return to a " realistic "
philosophy and a correlated axiology there is no way out of the present
entanglements.
This book is well written and extensively documented; the author's
sources range from the great treatises of the Schoolmen to the works of
contemporary sociologists, philosophers, and politicians. Where he critisizes, he shows a remarkable ability to lay bare the basic fallacies and their
consequences; and in the positive or " constructive " part of his work he is
not less clear and definite.
The discussion moves throughout the chapters strictly on the terrain
of philosophy and of empirical analysis of political problems. The extensive
use of Scholastic texts notwithstanding, no reference is made to theological
questions. This attitude makes for a particular cleanliness of thought and
presentation. The line dividing philosophical from theological argumentation is so carefully observed that this reviewer did not find out whether
the author belongs to the Church or not. Whatever his position be, his
scholarly, sober, and objective work is a valuable contribution not
only to the clarification of our present confusion but to the philosophia
perennis too.
RuDoLF ALLERS
Ge01'getCIWn University,
Washington, D. C.

BRIEF NOTICES
The Ethics of .Ambiguity. By SIMONE DE BEAUVom. New York:
Philosophical Library, 1949. Pp. 163, with index.

The

In his L'1J:tre et le N eant, Sartre promised a tract on ethics which has
thus failed to materalize. Perhaps this book by Madame de Beauvoir,
a disciple of Sartre, is a sketch of what an existentalist ethics must
necessarily be. Man is a failure; shot through by negativity', he can never
coincide with himself, and it is by living and acting in this consciousness
that man comports himself most humanly and realistically. Such is the
thesis of this book.
Novelist, essayist, and philosopher, Madame de Beauvoir has a dialectical
virtuosity which compares favorably with that of Sartre. By a skillful
play on the oppositions encountered by man, she attempts in the first
part of her book to establish the essential ambiguity of human existence
where man is presented as a perennial combination of being and negation.
But the difficulty with her argument is the failure to attain anything like
an adequate elaboration of being quod primum cadit in intellectum nostrum.
It is obvious of course that the beings of experience are limited and that
man himself is a finite creature. But limit, finitude, potentiality, and
even privation do not mean absolute . non-being. An attack upon the
metaphysics of existentialism would demolish its ethics.
Freedom, alleged as a concrete witness of :inan as cut off from being
and formed by an "internal negation," is a prominent theme in L'Etre
et le N eant. It looms equally large in this work on ethics. Freedom must
keep itself free. It must act only to increase itself and accept whatever
content can guarantee that end. This is the ethical imperative in Madame
de Beauvoir's system. We are urged not only to further our own freedom
but also to enkindle and enhance the liberty of others.
Sartre has used his journal Les Temps Modernes to develop the political
aspects of his metaphysical premises. The present book also touches
upon such issues in opposing any political oppression, on the one hand,
and Marxism on the other. But Marjorie Grene successfully confronted
the political conclusions of existentialism in her book, Dreadful Freedom,
showing that if man is essentially revolutionary there must be a revolution,
eventually, of his own revolutionary tendencies of the present.
Another interesting thesis of Dreadful Freedom was the parallel drawn
between existentialism and Dewey's naturalism.
There is supporting
evidence in The Ethics of Ambiguity. Thus it is said that technics" escapes
all criticism if one admits that, through it, existence, far from wishing
to repose in the security of being, thrusts itself ahead of itself in order to

435

486

BRIEF NOTICES

thrust itself still farther ahead, that it aims at an indefinite disclosure
of being by the transformation of the thing into an instrument and at
the opening of ever new possibilities for man." (p. 80) What could be
more Deweyite than this analysis?
The latter part of this book is a catalogue of various types of men, the
sub-man, the serious, the adventuring, the passionate, and there is a
chapter occupied mainly with the various antinomies of life. Madame
de Beauvoir poses existentialism as· the only philosophy that could have
an ethics since there is const'¥lt emphasis on man, the agent, and on the
dangers and difficulties and failures that never cease to menace his being.
Existentialism at times shows a dim perception of the dualism in our
world. The mistake is to take dualistic structures for contra4ictory ones.

World Philosophy: A Search for Synthesis. By OLivER L. REISER. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1948. Pp. 136. $2.50.
The '' world philosophy " here presented with a Boy Scout enthusiasm
is scientific humanism.
" Planetary planning " of thought, science,
economics; education, freedom, religion, and every aspect of human life is
the great desideratum. That mechanical uniformity is a thin kind of
culture, remarkably close to rigor mortis never seems to occur to the
secularistic " do gooders."
The appalling arrogance of these creatures is indicated by citing at
random two of six projects which Dr. Reiser proposes for a projected
"International Institute of Scientific Humanism." Number four reads:
" Provide the universal theory and system of education, administered so
far as possible by local personnel, thus spreading our new social concepts
and freeing men's minds from prejudices calculated to warp their
judgment ... " (p. 42). Notice three things: there is to be a single
" planetary " system and theory of education; it is designed to spread
"our," i.e., the scientific humanist's, new social concepts; it is to free men's
minds from all prejudices, except the controlling prejudice of scientific
humanism. The fifth reads: "Set up an order of priority in introducing
new social changes. After establishing a_ method of testing the validity
of any project by its code of principles, it will be possible to promote any
intellectual or social movement which is humanistically sound and discourage any proposal which is deliberately anti-humanistic in its tendencies "
(p. 42) . The picture is clear: A committee of Reisers, Lamonts, and
other-humanists controls every intellectual and social movement, suppressing
what does not fit the prejudices of the naturalistic humanist.
Morals, of course, are exclusively relative to society. " Morals do not
come from ' higher ' sources, but from man and they are evolved socially;

BRIEF NOTICES

437

therefore, these codes and customs are not sacred, absolute, final, and
perfect, but rather stand in need of constant criticism and revision "
(p. 106}.
Organized religion is characterized as " institutionalized and calcified;
authoritarian and inflexible; organized churchianity; self-righteousness
arising out of the idea that salvation is a .reward for obeying the laws of
God; scientific facts available to organized religion are ignored when they
interfere with dogmatic theories or the property rights of the members
of the Church" (p. 112). To replace this monster "We (the scientific
humanists} are making a 'religion' of the pursuit of truth, and man's
religious development is related to his increasing access tq universal
natural laws and moral ideals " (p. 115) . " This coming religion, a
synthesis of man's scientific thought and his esthetic urges, is designed
to search out and reveal the nature of man, his potential powers, his
place in the universe, and the type of society best suited to evoke his
self-evolutionary possibilities " '(p. 116} .
Maritain's True Humanism pointed out years ago that any anthropo·centric humanism must, by its very anthropocentricity betray what is
deepest in man-his spirituality, his liberty, his personality. Dr. Reiser's
intellectual totalitarianism is one of innumerable examples of the accuracy
of Maritain's observation.

Man aa Man. By THOMAS J. HIGGINS, S. J. Milwaukee: Bruce, 1949.
Pp. 607, with index. $8.75.
At one time or another in his academic career every professor dreams
of writing his own textbook-a book that will avoid the pitfalls into which
others have fallen and which will be the perfect answer to his professorial
ideal. Yet no two ideals are alike. Father Higgins is one of those rare persons
who has achieved the realization of his intention. In Man aa Man, he
has produced an excellenf work on the science of ethics. Designed to give
college students the philosophical principles for human conduct, it represents a rather exhaustive treatment of morality in its general and specific
applications. While this comprehensiveness makes the book an ideal text for
those professors who can devote a year's study to this very important
science, it renders it rather impractical for the professor who is limited,
by the curriculum, to a course of three {or even two} hours a week for
one semester.
Father Higgins has included in his work numerous references to different
opinions concerning the matter at hand. Thus the student is given
something of the historical background of each moral problem. These
references will also enable the serious student to judge the relative worth
of another's opinion. As, for example, when Father Higgins disagrees

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BRIEF NOTICES

with St. Thomas on the essential nature of beatitude, the student can
find ample refutation in the articles of the Summa Theologica cited by the
author.
The organizational ability of the author is reflected in his work. The
various divisions of the text are readily discernible--an important factor
for the ordinary college student. It is especially evident in the presentation
of proofs for the moral principles and in the corollaries which are drawn
from these principals. Suggested reading at the end of each chapter add
to the merit of this work.

The Philosopher's Way. By JEAN WAHL. New York: Oxford University
Press, 1948. Pp. 348, with index. $5.00.
In his introduction, the author proposes this work as a textbook. It is
organized according to the various categories of reality studied by philosophers-substance, quality, soul, and the like--and each chapter portrays
the various ideas on the given subject in ancient and modem thought.
Wahl takes no cognizance at all of medieval philosophy. He frequently
injects his own philosophical comments, and in the last chapter entitled
" Dialectics," he seems to think that philosophy proceeds by oscillating
between the polarities like subject and object, idea and existence. The
book, judging also by the introduction, seems to hold that the real problems
of philosophy have only been stated but not solved. " We shall not be
too unhappy if, not completely seeing the solution, we at least see the
problem and, going the philosopher's way, maintain faith in our human
enterprise" (xiv).
As it is not very thorough, this work is not likely to be satisfactory
as a textbook for beginners. When a student is advanced enough to read
it, he will find numerous errors of commission and omission; and he
certainly ought to resent the personal philosophy of Wahl which here
appears as a combination of Hegel and existentialism. Certainly misinterpretations of Aristotle are the usual modern opinions of those who have
never read, or at least never seriously studied, such works as the Physics
(especially Book I) and the Metaphysics. Blunders in portraying modern
thinkers are less excusable. For instance, (p. 5) it was really Spinoza
and not Leibnit.z who emphasized the idea of substance; and (p. 178),
Bergson did not acknowledge that mathematical physics touched the
absolute in matter, if only because he would not admit that matter was
anything like an absolute.
Wahl's own philosophy is even more questionable than his interpretation
of some of his predecessors. It is a philosophy of " feeling " since the
author accepts the verdict of modern anti-intellectuals and puts himself

BRIEF NOTICES

489

in the tradition of Kierkegaard. Man lives in "tensions." His tool is
dialectics, and the process that is life grinds on and on except in such
experiences as that of art where " we no longer separate the inner and
the outer, the infinite and the finite, and the unceasing dialogue comes to
its conclusion, in silence" (p. 824). This, of course, is not the silence
discussed by mystical theologians. It is more akin to the self-experience
which is a point of departure and, usually, a point of arrival for existentialism. What we call "God" is "a force, a strength-giving as well
as crushing force, and a force that is in man himself." (p. 296) . This
sounds like the humanism of a Sartre.
Wahl does not believe that philosophy can be presented in a systematic
way, and the order of his chapters and their various subjects is rather
difficult to follow. Where everything is a problem and there are no full
and satisfying solutions, it is difficult to see how anyone could think or
write; even a philosophy of denial requires some ultimate certitude if
only as a standard to appraise the views of other men and present
one's own.
The author supplies a selected bibliography but no footnotes. The index
of names is impressive.

The Ramparts We Guard. By R. M. MAciVER. New York: Macmillan,
1950. Pp. 152. $8.00.

There is probably no subject, save love, about which more is said and
written than democracy. And, with the exception of love, there is probably
no subject about which there is such general misunderstanding. Practically
every American thinks he knows what democracy is but, according to
Professor Maciver, there are few who really understand its true nature.
To correct this general misunderstanding, Professor Maciver thought it
incumbent upon him to write a book. The book, alas, after a good start,
succeeds only in adding to the general confusion.
Doctor Maciver loves democracy, but that is putting it incorrectly;
he adores it, and in a strict theological sense, for in the last chapter of this
strange little book the author actually proposes democracy as the new
religion, the only religion in which the people, in these days of diversity
of cults, can be united. This strange proposal is shocking, coming at the
end of a book which up to that point had lauded democracy because it
could not only tolerate a diversity of opinion, but actually thrived upon
it; had condemned the Nazi and Soviet regimes for their religions of state
worship. It is shocking for the reader to be faced with a proposal that
statism, under the brave name of democracy, be instituted in our own
country.

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BRIEF NOTICES

But this is only one of the book's myriad contradictions. Professor
Maciver either has forgotten the rules of consistency, or he is so convinced
of his philosophy of the subjective character of truth .that he believes
that he can deny on one page what he stated on a previous page. Lack
of consistency in argument is one of the glaring weaknesses of the work.
For example: filled with indignation against those (including Plato and
Aristotle) who do not agree that democracy, as interpreted by Maciver,
is the best of all possible· governments, the author is provoked into making
an attack upon Doctor Fulton Sheen whom he cites, along with Irving
Babbitt, .as a' spokesman for the modern authoritarian school of thought:
There is another and more subtle way in which the aristocrat, especially the
moral aristocrat, misapprehends the service of democracy. The aristocrat is a
poor psychologist. His aloofness, his sense of superiority, prevents him from
sensing w}lat would be the reactions of the people to the rules he would impose
on them. Thus he misjudges the conditions on which their well-being depends.
He wants " good government " but the only good government is one the rules of
which are made by him !lr by his kind. Like Plato, he knows where everybody
belongs in the scheme of things-and that is where they ought to belong, according
to his standards. He himself would be happy and would feel free under the system
of authority he approves. So he fancies that everybody ought to be happy and
feel free under that system and he easily slips, poor psychologist that he is-into
the persuasion that because they ougkt to be they would be.
This misapprehension is revealed in many ways, but we shall be content briefly
to refer to one of them. It consists in the identification of liberty with acceptance
of the moral or cultural code of the aristocrat. If they are free in obeying the
law they approve then everybody is free who obeys it, even against his desire
or his will. Liberty, says Father Sheen, is not the right to do as you please but
the "right to do whatever you ougkt." True liberty, said Jxving Babbitt, "is not
liberty to do what one likes but liberty to adjust oneself to law."

Yet a few pages after this indignant outburst, Doctor Maciver is fervently
engaged in arguing that while even in a democracy laws restraining the
more violent human passions are necessary, these laws are not destructive
of liberty but rather are of the essence of liberty. This work is so full
of such contradictions that the reader begins to wonder about the soundness
of the author's scholarship.
There is lacking also consistency in style. After writing the greater
part of the book in a clear untechnical language, language albeit a bit
too florid, too given to superlatives, and too easily given to rhetorical
:Bights the author, in the ninth chapter, suddenly turns professor and
transcribes a few pages from his lecture notebook. It takes three readings
of this chapter to discover what he is trying to say and, after you have
figured it out, you find that he says . exactly nothing-that is, nothing
pertinent to the subject of the book.
The publishers of this book proclaim: "Robert M. Maciver's name

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441

means as much to modem sociology as John Dewey's to philosophy."
With this statement this reviewer thoroughly agrees. He may even do
as much damage to democracy as Dewey did to education.

Religionsphilosophie mit Theodizee. By HEINRICH STRAUBINGER. Freiburg
i. B.: Herder, 1949. Pp. fl7fl with index.
This volume is one in the series of Theologische Grundrisse, primers in
theology, published by Herder. The first edition appeared in
It
is primarily a textbook-the author teaches theology at the Universtiy
of Freiburg-but wishes also to make the student acquainted with the
basic facts of the history and ethnology of religion; the historical part
is, therefore, longer than usual in such works. The 87 pages of this
section make, indeed, good reading and will prove helpful to the student.
One misses, however, references to the Celtic and Etruscan religions which,
though little known, might have deserved mentioning.
The first chapter reports on the methodology of the philosophy of
religion; the historical, psychological, ethnological, phenomenological
approaches are analysed, and then that of Kant and what the author calls
the rationalistic-speculative approach of pantheism and theism. The
critique is everywhere to the point and the various methods are given
credit for what they are able to achieve. The procedure adopted by the
author is, in general, not an apologeiic but a systematic one. He has
succeeded well in furnishing a clear and readable text. There are many
references which will be useful to the--German-student;
apart from the
great classics, the works mentioned are mainly in German.
Besides the methodological and historical chapters there are two more;
on the nature of religion and its place in spiritual life, and on the truth
of religion. The latter deals with the proofs of God's existence. Here,
too, the criticism on the part of non-Scholastic philosophers is carefully
presented, analyzed, and met. The objectivity of the statement Of the
opponent's argument is remarkable, so that the reader is given a clear
notion of what the other side has to say; this is particularly the case
with the philosophy of Kant.
There is no discussion of atheistic philosophies. Perhaps, the author
felt that this topic does not belong to the philosophy of religion. However,
not to have considered these ideas is a lacuna. Just as scepticism must
be discussed whenever the problems of certitude and knowledge are
examined, so the denial. of God's existence is a legitimate problem in
the philosophy of religion. An analysis of the philosophical conception
underlying the various atheistic systems would have been in place also
in views of the attempts to construct a system of ethics within the frame-

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BRIEF NOTICES

work of an atheistic metaphysics, as it is done in " naturalism " or in
the great work on ethics by Hartmann.
Destined as a textbook, this volume contains little of original research.
It is, however, an especially readable and clear exposition of the various
forms of the proofs for God's existence and, in the last sections, of the
questions of evil, pessimism, and allied problems.

The Unitary Principle in Physic;; and Biology. By LANCELOT LAw WHYTE.
New York: Henry Holt, 1949. Pp. 185, with index. $3.50.
Scientists are so often inclined to bring their specialized methods with
them when they deal in philosophy that their efforts sometimes further
confuse the profoundly cosmological problems they attempt to solve.
Whyte's book is a delightful and welcome exception and represents that
rather rare combination of thinking which can satisfy the scientist and
stimulate the philosopher.
The unitary principle is phased thus: "Asymmetry tends to disappear,
and this tendency is realized in isolable processes" (p. 8). This appears
at first sight like a restatement of the second law of thermodynamics, the
law of entropy, and actually entropy would be evidence for the unitary
principle. Whyte, however, extends his argument to living systems which are
generally regarded as ectropic. He holds out the hope that his principle
might be extended to psychology, and in view of what can be said on
the subject of integration alone, his hope does appear well founded.
Whyte cites Curie's view that the world is in a process of going from
asymmetry to symmetry. However, he shows no acquaintance with other
French scholarship like the view of Lalande and Meyerson and even the
principle of Le Chatelier, as this is applied in physiology. Additional
argument for Whyte's thesis ought to examine the wealth of literature
on the notion of economy in Mach, Russell, and even Freud.
This book, nevertheless, is more notable for what is says than for what
it leaves unstudied. The author regards it in fact as a pioneering adventure
that should be followed by further research and reflection. As is stands,
the book certainly inspires both.
The arguments for the unitary principle in the physical order are rather
easily followed. Changes in the world tend to produces more symmetry,
homogeneity, and, one may even say in Aristotelian language, rest in the
subject being moved. How the principle can apply in biology may not
seem readily apparent.
Here it is important to follow out Whyte's
definition of the living world. Thus he writes: "An animal organism
is a continuous normalizing process stabilized· by hereditary units and
an outer boundary " (p. 104) . The author uses " outer boundary" as
a limit associated with environment.

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448

This whole definition must be taken as a purely biological one, and
the author adduces evidence in its favor from modern biological research.
The emphasis should be laid not so much on boundary or heredity as on
the normalizing process which, according to Whyte, continuously struggles
to overcome different polarities in the life of the organism.
The unusual scientific background of the author, especially in mathematics and physics, should recommend his book all the more for scientists,
who want an overall yiew of their work, and for philosophers, probing
into the ultimate meaning of both the work. and the view. This is a book
that should get high priority on the reading list of the philosopher of
nature and the philosopher of science.
Whyte leaves one big question. There is dissymetry in the world
which matter and life struggle to overcome. It is real and challenging,
and when it is thought through, it turns up as a way of describing prime
matter, just as symmetry means form. This is another reason why the
present book is important.

SocratiC Metkod and Critical Philosophy: Selected Essays. By LEONARD
NELSON. Translated by Thomas K. Brown III. Foreword by B.
Blanshard. Introduction by J. Kraft. New Haven: Yale University
Press, 1949. Pp. 238 with index. $3.75.
Leonard Nelson (1882-1927) taught philosophy at the University of
Gottingen and also founded a Philosophical-political Academy for the
education of responsible political leaders. Prof. Kraft reports that out of
this Academy and connected circles came many who fought the Nazi
regime and today work on the rebuilding of Germany. Nelson, however,
did not achieve any great influence on the philosophical public at large,
either in Germany or abroad. He was, according to the introduction, a
" philosophical heretic " in his times, first because he was convinced that
there is one and only one philosophical truth, an idea incompatible with
the relativistic trends of his time, and secondly because he represented a
variant of critical philosophy which was, though going back to Kant,
contrary to the customary interpretation of Kant's ideas. Nelson had
come across, when still a youth, the practically forgotten works of Jacob
Friedrich Fries (1778-1848) . Fries taught at Heidelberg and Jena, was
dismissed from this university because of political reasons, reinstated
1824; he lectured then on mathematics and physics to which sciences he
contributed some valuable studies. These studies and the philosophy
he professed won Fries the following of the famous mathematician
SchlOmilch, of the discoverer of the plantal cell Schleiden, and of some
other men; his influence on philosophy, however, remained insignificant,

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BRIEF NOTICES

the more since his most gifted pupil, E. F. Apelt, died young, having
taught but two years at Jena.
Fries considered Kant's philosophy as the final outcome of philosophical
endeavor and believed himself to be the true pupil and continuator of
Kant's work. Fries .is usually said to have interpreted Kant in a "psychologistic" manner. His psychologism is, however, peculiar and not to be
confused with the tendency commonly given this name. Nelson adopted
the fundamentals of Fries' philosophy. Like his master, Nelson possessed
a solid kno,vledge of mathematics an,d science, and his interest embraced
all fields of philosophy and their relation to the practical, social, political
problems of his day. The men who came under his influence, philosophers,
biologists, mathematicians, psychiatrists, and others, appear to have been
deeply impressed by his personality as well as by his doctrine. The
introduction by Prof. Kraft is thereof a testimony.
The present volume is meant to introduce Nelson's work to the English
speaking countries; other larger works are being translated. The selection
of essays to be reviewed here gives a good picture of Nelson's thought,
although a rather incomplete one, since among his works there is a threevolume treatise on ethics and an important work on the epistemological
problem; the content of which the essays give but an imperfect idea.
The introduction by Prof. Kraft makes up somewhat for this defect, but
is more apt to arouse than to satisfy the curiosity of the reader.
The essays are partly popular, partly strictly philosophical. The former
bear the titles: The Socratic Method, The Scientific and the Esthetic
Conception of Nature, The Worldview of Ethics and Religion, The Art
of Philosophizing. The diversity of subjects does not allow for a report
on all these studies. It seems best to limit the review to the three essays
on The Critical Method and the Relation of Psychology to Philosophy,
Critical Philosophy and Mathematical Axiomatics, The Impossibility of
the " Theory of Knowledge."
Metaphysics is defined as the system of all judgments not based on
either empirical or mathematical intuition, hence of synthetic a priori
judgments evolved through mere concepts. It is asked to what extent
metaphysics is in need of a critique of reason and what method the
critique has to adopt to satisfy this need. There are certain principles
which form the basis of all our judgnients; this means philosophy as
" a natural disposition." It is another thing to discover these principles
and to fit them into a system; this is philosophy " as a science " and it is
only here where controversies arise, since there is no dissension on the
principles as long as they are presupposed in other judgments. The
principles are discovered by a regressive method, starting from judgments
and evaluations on which there is agreement, proceeding by a regressive
method. One does not obtain proofs, because proofs are possible only

BRIEF NOTICES

445

for secondary and derived judgments, but unnecessary and impossible
for basic principles.
There are three kinds of verification: by demonstration, as in empirical
and mathematical sciences, by means of pointing out the intuition on
which their judgments are grounded; by proof, which applies only to
)llediate judgments and whose possibility presupposes principles; by
"deduction "-this taken in the sense of Kant. The latter has to be
" psychological," based on our inner experience. Here we even find a
proof, not indeed of the metaphysical principle, but of the psychological
proposition, that the knowledge enunciated in a metaphysical proposition
is immediate knowledge from pure reason. Ultimately we rely on the
self-confidence of reason, without which no thinking whatsoever is possible.
There exists an immediate knowledge of a non-sensory kind which is not
intuition but reaches our consciousness solely through reflection, without
being. reflection itself. The dogmatic thesis that all
is either
intuition or reflection must be abandoned. From this fallacious alternative
of logical dogmatism springs the conflict between empirical skepticism
and neo-Platonic mysticism. Therewith also the dilemma of Hume, which,
as Nelson endeavors to show, can be resolved critically by following the
path opened in the inquiries of Fries.
The essay on mathematical axiomatics is dedicated to an explanation
of this approach to the philosophy of mathematics and the proof that
Hilbert's axiomatics are basically, in principle and method, the same
set of ideas which Fries had proposed long ago.
The last essay takes up a question which had been dealt with incidentally
in the one on Critical Method and which Nelson has treated extensively
in a separate work on epistemology. This essay is a paper read at the
Fourth International Congress for Philosophy, Bologna, in 1911. Nelson's
position; mostly in his own words, is this: The problem of knowledge
is that of the objective validity of knowledge. This validity is supposedly
tested by a " theory of knowledge." One needs, therefore, a criterion by
the application of which we could decide on truth or falsity of a proposition.
This criterion would itself be either cognition or not. If cognition, it falls
within the area of what is problematic, of what is to be solved by means
of the same criterion. It cannot be, accordingly, cognition. If it is not
a cognition, it still must be known, i. e., we should know that it is a
criterion of truth. To gain this knowledge, we would have to apply the
criterion. Here and there, we encounter a ·contradiction. A validity
criteron is impossible and hence also there can be no " theory of knowledge."
This volume may mediate the acquaintance with an original thinker
whose influence has made itself felt in many fields outside of that of
philosophy proper. One looks forward with interest towards the publication
of further translations which are promised. Nelson and his followers, who

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BRIEF NOTICES

were not very numerous, but outstanding in several regards, published
many studies in the Neue Abhandlungen der Friesschen Schule, of which
there are several volumes. Among these studies are some on matters of
psychology and psychiatry, others on questions of general biology, on
mathematics, and other subjects. The ideas proposed in these volumes,
be it by Nelson himself or by others, are to a notable part, quite actual.
It is, perhaps, not feasible, that all this be translated. But one would
like to hope that we may be given an authentic and exhaustive presentation
as well of Fries' philosophy as of that of Nelson and his pupils. To
judge from the introduction he wrote, Professor Kraft would be the man
to make the American students of philosophy acquainted with this
particular school he knows so well.

Precis de Logique Mathematique. Par I. M. BocHENSKI, 0. P. Collection
Synthese 2. Bussum, Pays-Bas: F. G. Kroonder, 1949. Pp. 90.
Thomists who are interested in modem logic will welcome Father Bocheiiski's latest work, a concise presentation of the fundamentals of symbolic
logic. It is a very handy complement to his Nove Lezioni di Logica Simbolica
(Angelicum, 1988), hitherto the best introductory manual in the field.
The only defects in the latter work are its being written in Italian, a
language not widely read by American students, its exclusive use of
Lukasiewicz's notation, also not widely employed in this country, and its
expository character, which makes it unwieldy for reference use. These
short-comings are remedied in the Precis. The great majority of symbolic
expressions in the new work are reproduced in parallel columns in both
the Russell-Peano and the Lukasiewicz notations, and the entire presentation is developed along formalistic lines with concise definition and
development. The manual is printed in a neat format designed for
convenient reference, and is equipped with complete indexes of symbols
and terms. Clarity is not sacrificed for brevity of expression, however,
and numerous examples, explanations, historical notes, and references to
the literature are inserted in the development. These are set off from the
text in small type, so as not to impair the book's value for reference use.
In content, the work is more extensive than the Nove Lezioni and is
modeled along the lines of Carnap's Abriss der Logistik. Father Bocheiiski's
interest in philosophical and theological applications of symbolic logic
affects his emphasis of subject-matter, and he has, therefore, given
considerable development to the theory of propositions, including many
laws that might be used in non-mathematical applications. He has also
given an adequate treatment of predicates, classes, and the logic of relations.
The only lacuna is occasioned by his having refrained from any consideration

BRIEF NOTICES

447

of the philosophical foundations of modern logic; while most desirable
in themselves, such considerations were evidently not consonant with
the nature of the work and were omitted.
The reviewer has made no attempt to check the numerous symbolic
expressions for typographical accuracy. There is a minor error on p. 64,
where the explanation for the expression representing the field of a relation
is placed under the expression for the domain of a relation. In general,
however, the Precis leaves little to be desired, and is a most welcome
addition to the sparse Thomistic literature on logistics.

Von Dionysos zu Appollon. By FRITZ JoAciHM v. RINTELEN. Wiesbaden:
Metopen Verlag, 1948. Pp. 138 with index.
The author, once of the University of Munich, teaches philosophy at
the University of Mainz. He is well known because of prior works, among
which is a larger study on the Idea of Value. His newest small volume is
part of a series of treatises dealing with philosophical problems related,
more or less, to the actual situation of Western civilization. This circumstance, together with a certain denseness of presentation, renders a report
not quite easy. Dionysos and Apollon stand for two fundamental
dencies of life and interest neither of which may be disregarded if man is
to achieve the fullness of his being, although the two do not possess equal
dignity. The Dionysian trend cannot fulfill what it promises or seems
to promise. However much man may try to merge into nature, to live
in unity with cosmic forces, to find the completion of his existence in
the intensity of vital forces, he does not cease to be more than a living
being. In short, but interesting, half incidental remark the author comments
on the basically juvenilistic attitude in this Dionysian interpretation of
man's existence. Such a pure vitalistic conception, which tries to ignore
spiritual values is in itself contradictory, because the necessity of making
use of symbols points beyond mere vitality. Since things spiritual cannot
be overlooked, since they simply are, the mere Dionysian conception is
forced to devaluate these things, and thus to destroy the unity of the
human being. This unity cannot be preserved unless it be envisaged
from "above." Man's self is, as Kierkegaard stressed, spirit. The spirit
cannot manifest itself without the means furnished by the living organism;
but this does not permit either an identification or a denial of the spirit.
The fact of order is inexplicable in terms of mere life. The order is one
of superiority of the spiritual. There is an objective order of values.
By means of this idea one can interpret the relation of " nature " and
" spirit " not merely as one of conflict and unreconcilable antagonism,
but as one of objective order in which nature exists to lead to and to serve

448

BRIEF NOTICES

the objectively higher values. These ideas, which are barely indicated
by the foregoing remarks, are illustrated by numerous analyses of older
and contemporary writings, in philosophy and poetry as well as in other
fields. There are many brief, but penetrating, critical comments on certain
anti-spiritualistic philosophies which may apply generally and not only
to the German instances of which the author speaks. There is also a
succinct discussion of the limits of pure " science " and the inevitability
of evaluation as soon as human affairs are considered. Of particular
interest may be found to be the criticism of the ideas of Nietzsche and
some of those who were influenced by him. The necessity is stressed
of a final synthesis in a comprehensive metaphysics and in faith.
Because of the limitations of its references and examples mainly to German
literature (apart from some older authors) this little book may appeal
to but few readers outside of Germany. However, it deserves attention;
the basic ideas are free from the limitations referred to; they are of
general " anthropological " and philosophical relevance. They point out
dangers and fallacies which are not specifically German or European.
Whoever is concerned with the spiritual situation of today, or the situation
of the spirit today, will profit by pondering on the author's words.

Humanism as a Philosophy. By CoRLISS LAMONT. New York: Philosophical Library, 1949. Pp. 869. $3.75.
This emotionally generous and intellectually shoddy book " constitutes
an expansion and revision of a lecture course entitled ' The Philosophy of
Naturalistic Humanism' given by me at Columbia University, 1946-1949"
(p. 8). It is, in spirit, faithful to the Humanist Manifesto of 1988.
Humanism is defined as " a philosophy of joyous service for the greater
good of all humanity in this natural world and according to the methods
of reason and democracy " (p. 18) . It is later described as " the viewpoint
that men have but one life to lead and should make the most of it in
terms of creative work and happiness; that human happiness is its own
justification and requires no sanction or support from supernatural sources;
that in any case the supernatural, usually conceived of in the form of
heavenly gods or immortal heavens, does not exist; and that human beings,
using their own intelligence and cooperating liberally with one another, can
build up an enduring citadel of peace and beauty upon this earth" (p. 21).
How the Hitlers, Stalins et al. are to be persuaded to the life of reason
and liberal cooperation is not made clear.
On the side of ethics, Dr. Lamont offers the following: "Humanism
without hesitation sets up the service of one's fellow man as the ultimate
moral ideal" (p. 22). "This life is all and enough" (p. 100). "The

BRIEF NOTICES

449

emphasis of Humanist and naturalistic ethics is positive, recommending
the greater and more frequent enjoyment of earthly goods on the part
of all men everywhere and unendingly" (p. !l74). Dull Christianity, of
course, is very wicked. "A central proposition in that (Christian) ethics
is the original sin and inherent wickedness of man; and one of its special
stresses is that the sex ·impulse in human beings is essentially base and
bad; Adam's original sin being transmitted from generation to generation
through the act of procreation. Thus the Christian Church, in order to
establish the complete purity of Jesus, felt obliged to assume that he
was born of a virgin in violation of ordinary biological laws " (p. 276) .
On sex, we :find this: "Sex love (is) a democratic value par excellence
in that it can be experienced by everyone " (p. 303) . One should think
sneezing would be even a higher value, inasmuch as it can be enjoyed
even by the very old, the very young, and celibates, voluntary and
involuntary. A little pepper may help. (How democratic can one get?)
. On the subject of God, Dr. Lamont approaches genius. The existence
of an Uncaused Cause is proved by the principle of casuality, But "if
everything has a definite cause, then God, too, must have a cause and
so on ad infinitum " (p. 154) . " Furthermore, the argument from (yes,
from, not for: reviewer) a First Cause takes for granted that there must
have been a beginning of the cosmos " (p. 154) . " Today the prevailing
tendency in a culturally advanced country like America, regardless of what
formal tributes may be paid to traditional faiths, is to retire the almighty
from his former role in these earthly affairs and to look upon him as. a
sort of Honorary Chairman of the Universe" (p. 162). Dr. Lamont has,
presumably, been appointed secretary of same.
The concluding punch line is " Humanism assigns to man nothing less
than the task of being his own savior and redeemer" (p. 349).
The book is not blasphemous; the author is too adolescently ignorant to
be capable of blasphemy. It is too shallow and ephemeral to merit any
criticism.
·

BOOKS RECEIVED
Allgeier, A., Die Neue Psalmen Vbersetzung. Freiburg: Herder, 1950.
Pp. 347, with index.
Amand, D., L'Ascese monastique de S. Basile. Maredsous: Editions de
Maredsous, 1949. Pp. 364.
Anwander, A., Die Religionen der Menschheit. Freiburg: Herder, 1949.
Pp. 416, with index.
Ares, R., L'Eglise et la societe internationale contemporaine. Montreal.:
Les Facultes de la compagnie de Jesus, 1949. Pp. £68, with index.
$3.00.
Bardy, G., Carrouges, M., et al, L'Enfer. Paris: Les Editions de la revue
des jeunes, 1949. Pp. 360, with index. 450 fr.
Bouyer, L., The Pascal Mystery. Chicago: Regnery, 1950. Pp. 370, with
index. $5.00.
Bridgman, P. W., Reflections of a Physicist. New York: Philosophical
Library, 1950. Pp. 404, with index. $5.00.
Bullough, S., St. Paul and Apostolic Writings. Westminster: Newman,
1950. Pp. 338. $3.00.
Butler, C., Taylor, F. S., et al, The Spirit of Unity. Oxford: Blackfriars,
1950. Pp.
3s 6d.
Butterfield, H., Christianity and History. New York: Scribner, 1950.
Pp. 146.
Cassirer, E., The Problem of Knowledge. New Haven: Yale University
Press, 1950. Pp. 350, with index. $5.00.
Claude!, P., The Eye Listens. New York: Philosophical 'Library, 1950.
Pp. 288, with index. $5.00.
Combes, G., Revival of Paganism. St. Louis: Herder, 1950. Pp. 365, with
index. $4.50.
Donders, A., The Message of Christ. St. Louis: Herder, l!MO. Pp. 477,
with index. $6.00.
Einstein, A., Out of My Later Years. New York: Philosophical Library,
1950. Pp. £90, with index. $4.75.
Farber, M., ed., Philosophical Thought in France and the United States.
Buffalo: University of Buffalo, 1950. Pp. 785, with index. $7.50.
Fitzgerald, T., De lnhabitatione Spiritus S. Doctrina S. Thornae Aquinatis.
Mundelein: Our Lady of the Lake, Hl50. Pp. 141, with index.
Fitzpatrick, E. A., How to Educate Hurnan Beings. Milwaukee: Bruce,
1950. Pp. 187, with index.
Frank, P., Relativity- A Richer Truth. Boston: Beacon, 1950. Pp. 158,
with index. $2.00.

450

BOOKS RECEIVED

451

Frege, G., The Foundations of Arithmetic. New York: Philosophical
Library, 1950. Pp. 262. $4.75.
Garrigou-Lagrange, R., Christ the Savior. St. Louis: Herder, 1950. Pp.
752, with index. $9.00.
Gemelli, A. and Zunini, G., Introduzione alla Psicologia. Milan: Soc. Ed.
Vita e Pensiero, 1949. Pp. 505, with index. 1100 lire.
Gilby, T., Phoenix and Turtle. New York: Longmans, 1950. Pp. 154,
with index. $8.00.
Greenberg, S., Infinite in Giordano Bruno. New York: Columbia University Press, 1950. Pp. 208. $8.00.
Haecker, T., Journal in the Night. New York: Pantheon, 1950. Pp. 268.
$8.50.
Hawkins, D. J., The Essentials of Theism. New York: Sheed and Ward,
1950. Pp. 154. $2.25.
Heath, T., Mathematics in Aristotle. New York: Oxforq University Press,
1949. Pp. 805, with index. $5.50.
Heinisch, P., Theology of the Old Testament. Collegeville: The Liturgical
Press, 1950. Pp. 886, with index. $5.00.
Jessop, T. E., ed., The Works of George Berkeley. Edinburgh: Nelson,
1950. (Vol. 8: Alciphron) Pp. 888. 80/.
Jolivet, R., Le Probleme de la mort chez Heidegger et Sartre. Abbaye S.
Wandrille: Ed. de Fontenelle, 1950. Pp. 111. 800 fr.
Lamont, C., The Illusion of Immortality. New York: Philosophical
Library, 1950. Pp. 888, with index. $8.95.
Lehner, C., trans., Mental Prayer and Modern Life. New York: Kennedy,
1950. Pp. 218. $2.75.
Lubac, H., The Drama of Atheist Humanism. New York: Sheed and Ward,
1950. Pp. 268, with index. $4.00.
Margenau, H., The Nature of Physical Reality. New York: McGraw-Hill,
1950. Pp. 492, with index. $6.50.
Maritain, J., La Signification de l'atheisme contemporain. Paris: Desclee
de Brouwer, 1950. Pp. 42, with index.
Masure, E., Le Sacrifice du corps mystique. Paris: Desclee de Brouwer,
1950. Pp. 208. 65 fr. belg.
Matchette, F. J., Outline of Metaphysics. New York: Philosophical
Library, 1949. Pp. 128, with index. $8.75.
Mauriac, F., Proust's Way. New York: Philosophical Library, 1950. Pp.
105. $8.00.
Meyer, C. E., The Thomistic Concept of Justifying Contrition. Mundelein:
Our Lady of the Lake, 1949. Pp. 248.
Mohr, H., God and the Soul. St. Louis: Herder, 1950. Pp. 828, with
index. $4.00.
Nicholson, J., Philosophy of Religion. New York: Ronald, 1950. Pp. 427,
with index. $8.75.

459l

BOOKS RECEIVED

Philipon, M., Le vrai visage de Notre Dame. Paris: Desclee de Brouwer
1949. Pp. 212, with index.
Ramsdell, E. T., The Christian Perspective. New York: Abingdon-Cokesbury, 1950. Pp. 218, with index. $2.50.
Roemer, T., The Catholic Church in the United States. St. Louis: Herder,
1950. Pp. 452, with index. $5.00.
Santayana, G., Atoms of Thought. New York: Philosophical Library,
1950. Pp. 299, with index. $5.00.
Scharff, C., L'Habitus principe de simplicite et d'unite dans la vie spirituelle. Utrecht: Dekker and Van de Vegt, 1950. Pp. 206. fl. 7.90.
Schmitz, P., Histoire de l'ordre deS. Benoit. Maredsous: Ed. de
1949. Vol. I: pp. 413; vol. II: pp. 447.
Smith, V. E., Philosophical Physics. New York: Harper, 1950. Pp. 487,
with index. $4.00.
Sorokin, P., Altruistic Love. Boston: Beacon, 1950. Pp. 260, with index.
$3.00..
Tausch,.H., Benediktinisches Monchtum in Osterreich. Vienna: Herder,
1949. Pp. 364. sf. 11.20.
Temple, P. J., Pattern Divine. St. Louis: Herder, 1950. Pp. 401, with
index. $5.00.
Thibault, ·R, Union with God according to Dom Marmion. St. Louis:
Herder, 1949. Pp. 273. $3.50.
Vogels, H. J., Novum Testam,entum Graece et Latine. Freiburg: Herder,
1950. Pars I: pp. 478; Pars II: pp. 795.
71
Weilgart, W. J., Who Is Peaceful? New York: Exposition, 1950.
$1.00.
Zacharias, H. C., Human Personality. St. Louis: Herder, 1950. Pp. 368,
with index. $4.00.
Zolli, E, The Nazarene. St. Louis: Herder, 1950. Pp. 309, with index.
$5.00.

Pp.