THE THOMIST
A SPECULATIVE QUARTERLY REVIEW
OF THEOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY

EDITORS:

THE DoMINICAN FATHERS oF THE PROVINCE oF ST. JosEPH

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

VoL. XXXVII

JULY, 1973

SOME PHILOSOPHICAL CONSIDERATIONS
BIOLOGICAL EVOLUTION

T

No.3

ON

HE PROBLEM of biological evolution, as we understand it now, appeared in the 19th century as a
consequence of scientific data totally unknown to
philosophers and theologians before Darwin. It makes little
sense, therefore, to search for this problem in the writings of
St. Thomas. Sharing the opinion common to his time, he
believed the universe to be no more than 6,000 years old.
The ancient theologians did, however, discuss a type of evolution; that is, that the universe was created in six days. St.
Augustine, for example, maintained that all six days were one
since God created all things simultaneously: the inorganic in
act, that is, in their present state; and the organic in potency,
namely, in their quasi-seminal state. Plants and animals were
implanted in the world "after the manner of seed (tamquam
seminaliter mundo indita) by virtue of the Word of God when
he created all things simultaneously, and from which all things,
417

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each in its proper time, would be drawn in the course of the
ages." 1
According to other saints the six days of Genesis denoted
the order of time and succession in creation. There was an
order not only of nature but also of time and duration in the
work of the six days. This latter opinion held that various
creatures were produced successively, whereas St. Augustine
believed that all was created instantly. Whereas the latter
interpretation emphasized the creative power of God through
the passage of time, St. Augustine taught that God created the
whole world instantaneously-if not entirely in act at least in
potency. For St. Augustine, the world, bit by bit, was transformed into actuality. 2
It is most significant that St. Thomas simultaneously accepted both interpretations:
The first explanation of these things, namely, that held by St.
Augustine, is the more subtle and is a better defense of Scripture
against the ridicule of unbelievers; but the second which is maintained by the other saints is easier to grasp and more in keeping
with the surface meaning of the text. Seeing, however, that neither
is in contradiction with the truth of faith and that the context
1 St. Augustine De Gen. ad litt. 6. 5, 8; ML 34, 342. Cf. ibid., 4, 33, 52; ML
34, 318: "God created all things simultaneously."
Ibid., 5, 4, 11; ML 34, 325:
" Therefore, it has been said that then the earth produced the herb and the plant
in their causes, that they received the power to produce. For in it were
already, as it were in their roots of times, those things that were to come about
in future times ... " Ibid., 5, 5, 14; ML 34, 326: In reference to animals St.
Augustine says: " ... all the swimming creatures and the flying creatures and these
also potentially in numbers, which would come forth in their proper cycles in
time. Similarly the animals of earth, as if the last from the last element of the
world; nevertheless potentially, whose numbers time would manifest visibly."
• St. Thomas, On the Power of God, q. 4, a. 2. Cf. ibid., ad 28: " ... the plants
were brought forth then, not into actual existence but only in certain seed-forms,
inasmuch as the earth enabled to produce them. . . . Hence the plants were
not actually produced on the third day but only in their causes: and after the six
days they were brought into actual existence in their respective species and
natures by the work of government.
Consequently, before the plants were
produced causally nothing was produced, but they were produced together with the
heaven and the earth.
In like manner the fishes, birds, and animals were
produced in those days causally and not actually. "

CONSIDERATIONS

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admits of either intepretation, in order that neither may be unduly
favored, we now proceed to deal with the arguments of either side.3
A gradual appearance in time of the different genera and
species was acceptable to St. Thomas, the concept of evolution
was plausible. We must be cautious, however, not to color the
process of St. Augustine's evolution with our modern views.
Nevertheless, it is most interesting to explore the philosophical
principles of St. Thomas in the light of modern scientific
evolution.

Evolution and Philosophy
In St. Thomas there does exist the possibility of a science of
evolution. A philosophy of evolution, however, is not easy to
formulate since so complex and intricate a matter needs a
whole philosophical system to account for it.
Evolution is definable in general terms as a one-way, irreversible
process in time, which during its course generates novelty, diversity
and higher levels of organization. It operates in all sectors of the
phenomenal universe, but has been fully described and analyzed in
the biological sector.4
Evolution, first of all, is intimately connected with change
and must depend on the process of generation and corruption at
work in the cosmos. The Greek philosophers were the first to
ascribe to motion or change the importance it deserves and to
attribute to the whole cosmos the property of motion. Everything existing in nature moves and changes; new beings come
into existence and in their turn disappear. This ever-recurring
cycle of generation and corruption is also integral to evolution,
yet biological evolution adds a specifically new dimension to
the problem as conceived by the Greeks. The particular dilemma of biological evolution is this: Is the transformation of one
species into another possible? And if this transformation is
possible, what are the philosophical principles involved in this
3 Ibid., q. 4, a. 2 c.
Cf.Summa Theologiae vol. 10, Cosmogony (Ia. 65-74),
William A. Wallace, 0. P. (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1967).
• Evolution After Darwin (ed., by Sol Tax, Chicago, 1960) Vol. 8, p. 107.

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transformation? In other words, since evolution presupposes
the gradual transformation of one species into another, it poses
three philosophical and scientific problems: (i) the nature of
the species; (ii) the philosophical and scientific explanation of
the transformation of one species into another; and (iii) the
causes that produce this transformation.
I.

THE NATURE OF SPECIES

Nature of Species in Philosophy
In theory, the determination of the nature of species is
relatively simple. In his Metaphysics Aristotle says that the
order of species is analogous to the series of integral numbers:
" Substance is a complete reality and a definite nature. And
as a number does not admit of the more and the less, neither
does substance, in the sense of forms, but if any substance does,
it is only the substance which involves matter." 5 This criterion
is obviously true in the case of the generic hierarchy of beings
in which the higher being possesses a perfection which the
inferior one lacks. For example, animals are endowed with the
property of knowledge which is lacking in plants, and man
possesses rationality which is not found in animals. For this
reason Aristotle says that " it is certainly difficult to find a
state intermediate between life and the absence of life." 6
This criterion per se, however, is sometimes difficult to apply
to concrete cases. Aristotle himself admits in the History of
Animals that "nature proceeds little by little from things
lifeless to animal life in such a way that it is impossible to
determine the exact line of demarcation, nor on which side
thereof an intermediate form would lie." 7 In particular instances it is often difficult to pinpoint whether or not a living
being is a plant or an animal, and primitive manifestations of
life can barely be distinguished from inorganic objects. In
• Aristotle, Met., VIII 3, 1044b9-13. Cf. St. Thomas, Summa Theol., I, q. 47.
a. 3.
6 Aristotle, On Plants, 815b36.
7 Aristotle, History of Animals, VIII,

CONSIDERATIONS

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theory, however, the criterion is applicable, in spite of its
concrete difficulties.
The distinction of species in comparison to that of generic
kingdoms is less clear-cut. The easy dichotomy of degrees of
perfection which locate the different genera in the Porphyrian
tree cannot be applied to various species. That classification
may be useful in logic but not in natural philosophy. Here
the criterion of " like numbers " cannot be interpreted as different degrees of essential perfections but rather as irreducible
characteristics which cannot belong to other species. In Aristotelian philosophy each species is different from any other
species because its substantial form is irreducible to any other
substantial form. Since the substantial form gives the species
its unique determination, there are as many species as there are
substantial forms.
The form itself is signified by the species; for everything is placed
in its species by its form. Hence the number is said to give the
species, for definitions signifying species are like numbers, according
to the Philosopher; for as a unit added to, or taken from, a number
changes its species, so a difference added to, or taken from a definition, changes its species .... 8

We shall see later how this criterion is applied to physics and
biology.
The individual, however, cannot be identified with the species
because individuals do not result from the formal distinction of
beings but rather from the material multiplication o£ any one
species by means of the division o£ matter. One and the same
species is shared by many individuals which are numerically
different because o£ the division of matter. These individuals
participate in the perfection o£ the species to a greater or lesser
degree, although all o£ them participate in the same essential
perfection: "When we have the whole, such and such a form
in the flesh and in the bones, this is Callias or Socrates; and
they are different in virtue of their matter (for this is different),
but the same form; for their form is indivisible." 9 All men are
8 St. Thomas, Summa
Theol., I, q. 5, a 5.
• Aristotle, Met., VI, 8, 1088b22.

ANTONIO

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men, and we cannot say that some are more " man " than
others. Though some are more perfect than others, the degree
of perfection depends upon the different individual dispositions
of the matter to which the individual form is proportioned.
That from which a thing receives its species must remain indivisible,
fixed and constant in something indivisible ... And for this reason
no substantial form is participated of more or less. Wherefore the
Philosopher says that as a number cannot be more or less, so
neither can that which is in the species of substance; that is, in
respect to its participation in the specific form; but in so far as
substance may be with matter; i. e., in respect to material dis10
positions, more or less are found in substance.

Nature of Species in Biology
In the light of scientific discoveries is species a necessary
concept for evolution? Do species exist? The majority of
biologists take for granted the usefulness of the term, since
they refer to it continually and tell us that every species of
living things usually has its own characteristic genetic code.
The fundamental discrete steps in evolution are the " species "
because they are independent evolutionary units. Thus, the
existence of species is crucial and affects the whole idea of
evolution.
The evolutionary significance of species is now quite clear. . . .
The species are the real units of evolution, as the temporary incarnation of harmonious, well-integrated gene-complexes. And speciation, the production of new gene-complexes capable of ecological
shifts, is the method by which evolution advances. Without
speciation there would be no diversification of the organic world,
no adaptive radiation, and very little evolutionary progress. The
species, then, is the keystone of evolution.U
Naturalists such as Darwin, however, sometimes call natural
species merely artificial devices.
10 St. Thomas, Summa Theol., I-II, q. 52, a. 1 c.
Cf. ibid., I, q. 65, a. 7 ad 8:
" The difference of form, which is due to the different disposition of matter, causes
not a specific but only a numerical difference: for different individuals have
different forms, diversified according to the difference of matter."
11 E. Mayr, Animal Species and Evolution,
(Cambridge, Mass: Harvard, 1968),
p. 621.

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I look at the term species as one arbitrarily given, for the sake of
convenience, to a set of individuals closely resembling each other,
and ... it does not essentially differ from the term variety, which
is given to less distinct and more fluctuating forms. The term
variety, again, in comparison with mere individual differences, is
also applied arbitrarily, for convenience's sakeP

This is equivalent to the denial of their objective reality and
would seriously jeopardize the whole concept of evolution since,
then, the evolution would exist only in our mind. Consequently,
" whoever, like Darwin, denies that species are non-arbitrarily
defined units of nature not only evades the issue but fails to
find and solve the most interesting problems of biology." 13
Dobzhansky observes that species is both an artificial and a
natural reality by illustrating his reasoning with an example:
Any two cats are individually distinguishable, and this is equally
true of any two lions. And yet no individual has ever been seen
about which there could be a doubt as to whether it belongs to the
species of cats (Felis domestica) or to the species of lions (Felis
leo) . The two species are discrete because of absence of intermediates. There, one may safely affirm that any cat is different from
any lion. Any difficulty which may arise in defining the species
Felis domestica and Felis leo, respectively, is due not to the fact
that in common as well as in scientific parlance the words " cat "
and "lion " frequently refer neither to individual animals nor to
all existent individuals of these species, but to a certain modal, or
average cat and lion. These modes and averages are statistical
abstractions which have no existence apart from the mind of the
observer. The species Felis domestica and Felis leo are evidently
independent of any abstract modal point which we may contrive
to make. No matter how great may be the difficulties encountered
in finding the modal " cats " and " lions " the discreteness of these
species is not thereby impaired. 14

Here Dobzhansky clearly points out the difference between the
multiplicity of individuals within the species as well as the
12 Ch. Darwin,
The Origin of Species (New York: Modern Library Giant
G27, n. d.) p. 46.
13 E. Mayr, Animal Species and Evolution, p. 29. Cf. Th. Dobzhansky. Genetics
and the Origin of Species (New York, 1951), p. 5: "It must be stressed that this
discontinuity exists whether it is or is not used by the systematists for their
purposes, and for that matter whether it is studied at all. "
"Th. Dobzhansky, op. cit., pp. 4-11.

ANTONIO

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distinguishability of the two. They are discrete, because of
the absence of intermediates. Although he notes the difficulty
entailed in the discovery of the true concept which corresponds
to these species, he does not doubt their objective reality.
If species do exist, then what is the nature of this important
concept? Philosophers and biologists are usually looking for
different things, but even among biologists the concept does
not always mean the same thing. The first modem classification of living organisms is Linnaeus's Systema Naturae published in the mid-19th century which is classical in taxonomy.
This essentialist conception of reality pleases the philosopher
but has been rejected by many biologists. Mayr says that
"more important for the development of the synthetic theory
of evolution than the rejection of ill-founded theories of it was
the rejection of two basic philosophical concepts that were
formerly widespread i£ not universally held: preformism and
typological thinking." 15
For the geneticist focusing on the science of heredity, the
concept of species is naturally connected with the reproductive
process. For Dobzhansky "evolution is change in the heredity,
in the genetic endowment of succeeding generations. No understanding of evolution is possible except with the foundation o£
a knowledge of heredity." 16 For Mayr, Simpson, and Beck
evolutionary taxonomy replaces the idea of an essence identical
in each species, with the notion of a collection of physical
characteristics inherited by all the members of the same group.
Species is then defined as a " population of procreation " made
up of individuals capable, at least in potency, of having
common offspring. The totality of genes of all individuals of
a species characterizes the species and inasmuch as they are
15 E. Mayr, Animal Species and Evolution, p. 4 Cf. John Deely "The Philosophical Dimension of the Origin of Species" The Thomist, Vol. 33, 1 and fl (Jan. and
April 1969), pp. 75c149, 251-335.
16 Th.
Dobzhansky, The Biological Basis of Human Freedom (New York,
Columbia, 1956), pp. 10-11. Cf. Julian Huxley, Evolution in Action (New York,
Mentor, 11)53), p. 35: "The discovery of the principle of natural selection made
evolution_ comprehensible; together with the discovery of modern genetics, it has
made all other explanations. of evolution untenable. "

CONSIDERATIONS

ON BIOLOGICAL EVOLUTION

425

communities of reproduction, the species are biological realities.
" The species can thus be succinctly defined as follows: it is
a community of individuals possessing common essential sets
of genes, and actually or potentially related (proximally)
through interbreeding." 17
In this sense species are dynamic realities undergoing continuous change in space and time. The frequency of genes
varies from one population to another of the same species,
giving rise to different races. Therefore, the criterion of community of procreation serves to identify the individuals of the
same species and to distinguish different species from each
other. The man and the gorilla belong to different species
because they cannot have common offspring. Species are
discrete and independent units of evolution. 18
The Greek concept of essences, of species, as something eternal
and immutable is often misunderstood. Species are immutable
and eternal in the sense that every species is characterized by
a series of fixed and permanent traits that make every species
what it is and not another. If a man is a man he will be a
rational animal. If such an essential characteristic is not fulfilled, then that being is not a man but something else. The
essence of beings are necessary, immutable, and eternal with
an eternity which is called "negative "-in the sense that it
is not limited to a particular place and time. Their existential
realization, however, is temporal and contingent. In other
words, the essential traits of species are immutable but not
17 E. Mayr,
op. cit., pp.
Cf. Th. Dobzhansky, op. cit., p. 5: "In
organisms which reproduce sexually and by cross fertilization, the reality of species
as biological units can also be demonstrated by a quite different method .... These
communities consist of individuals united by the bonds of sexual unions, as well
as of common descent and common parenthood .... A species is, consequently,
not merely a group and a category of classification. It is also a supraindividual
biological entity, which, in principle, can be arrived at regardless of the possession o£
common morphological characteristics. "
18 F. Ayala, "Evolucion,
Tiempo y Filosofia" ARBOR, Madrid, 1967, n.
pp.
Cf. Th. Dobzhansky, Evolution, Genetics, and Man, p. 182: "It is,
then, not a paradox to say that if some one should succeed in inventing a
universally applicable, static definition of species, he would cast serious doubts on
the validity of the theory of evolution. "

ANTONIO

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their existential realization in nature, which inasmuch as they
are individuals are generated and corrupted in time and space
without affecting their essential traits. 19
Science conclusively states that species, like individuals, have
a certain span of life and sooner or later disappear. Simpson
gives a species 50,000 years for transmutation and says that
the fossil record which manifests the history of life is involved
in four grand processes: expansion, progression, equilibrium,
and extinction. 20 Species often survive for a longer period of
time, for " paleontologists have described many lines that
remain unchanged, completely stabilized for IQO to 140 million
years, and then suddenly broke out during a new evolutionary
outburst. Just what can cause such loosening up of tightly
knit systems is something I think we should work out, if
we can." 21
The long-lasting constancy of biological species, which is
realized by the identical replication of genes, is a primary law
of evolution. Yet, although one form of natural selection tends
to conserve the species as its primary goal, in the long run the
species is corrupted and disappears either through extinction or
transformation into another species. Extinction occurs when
the species is unable to adapt to an adverse environment and
it disappears, as individuals do. The data of science shows
species to reflect the dual tendency in nature: the primary
tendency to remain constant and the secondary tendency to
change. St. Thomas says:
Nothing prevents a thing being against nature as to the first intention of nature and yet not against nature as to its second intention.
Thus, as stated in De Coelo, all corruption, defect, and old age are
contrary to nature because nature intends being and perfection,
and yet they are not contrary to the second intention of nature
because nature, though being unable to preserve being in one thing,
E. Mayr, Evolution After Darwin, Vol. III, p. 141.
ff. Also in "Rates of
•• G. Simpson, Evolution After Darwin, Vol. I, pp.
Evolution in Animals " in Genetics, Paleontology and Evolution, Ed. by Jepsen,
Mayr, and Simpson, (Princeton, New Jersey, 1949), p.
21 E. Mayr, op. cit., Vol. III, p. 141.
19

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preserves it in another which is engendered of the other's corruption .... 22

Now it is necessary to consider the idea of species as numbers
in the light of modern scientific data and the dynamic concept
of species.
(i) In physics, the Aristotelian criterion for the distinction
of species agrees completely with quantum theory and with
Pauli's exclusion principle. The principle says that "the
quantum numbers of two or more electrons can never entirely
agree. Two systems of quantum numbers which are deducible
from each other by interchange of two electrons, represent one
state." 28 As a result of this principle every chemical being is
characterized by different quantum numbers. It is absolutely
impossible to find two different chemical compounds, two
elements of the periodic table, or two elementary particles
having the same quantum numbers, to which Aristotle would
agree.
(ii) In regard to living organisms, it also appears to be
possible to classify all living organisms according to the
structure and composition of their DNA and amount of
chromosomes in a way similar to the classification of chemical
elements according to quantum numbers. " Biologists now
know that every species of living things has its own characteristic number of chromosomes. Man has 46, white rats 42,
pea plants 14, etc." 24 This does not mean that any given
number of chromosomes belongs to only one species, but to
every biological species corresponds a unique structure and
shape. Even more, geneticists are now reducing different species
to different quantum numbers. If every species is unique and
discrete, then the discreteness is like the discreteness of numbers,
and biology, like physics, can in a sense be quantified. 25 This
•• St. Thomas, Summa Theol., Suppl., q.
a. 1 ad
Cf. On Truth, q.
c.
•• M. Born, Atomic Physics, (New York, 1954), p. 173. Cf. Wolfgang Pauli,
Exclusion Principle and Quantum Mechanics, (Neuchatel, Zurich, 1947).
•• The Cell (New York: Life Science Library, 1964), p. 57.
•• I owe this oral information to F. Ayala.

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discreteness, however, should not be confused with the different
degrees of perfection which correspond to different generic
beings. As a lion and a cat are members of two irreducible
species, so all species of living beings are irreducible to each
other.

II.

THE PRocEss

oF GENERATION

AND

CoRRuPTION

General Ideas
The evolution of one species into another must be intimately
connected with the general process of generation and corruption
of corporeal beings. The generation of the new being necessarily
presupposes the corruption of the old. By way of simple
analysis, it is easy to determine the existence of two incomplete
principles which complement each other and constitute the
essence of all corporeal beings. The first principle is passive
and totally potential: prime matter; the second principle is
active and determines the being to be what it is: substantial
form.
Naturally, it would be pointless here to delve into all the
subtleties involved in the hylemorphic theory. With regard to
evolution, however, we must emphasize one subtlety: that
which is generated and corrupted is not the form as such but
the concrete individual. " For as the brazen sphere comes to
be, but not the sphere nor the brass, and so too in the case
of the brass itself, it comes to be, it is its concrete unity that
comes to be (for the matter and form must always exist
before)." 26 Or in St. Thomas's words in his commentary on
Aristotle: "For it is not a form that comes to be but the
composite. For a form is said to exist in matter, although a
form does not (properly) exist but the composite by its
form." 27 Thus, the Aristotelian distinction between the species
•• Aristotle, Met., VI, 9, 1084b10. Cf. ibid., 1088b17-20: "It is obvious, then,
from what have been said, that that which is spoken of as a form or substanee is
not produced, but the concrete thing which gets its name from this is produced,
and that in everything which is generated matter is present, and one part of the
thing is matter and the other form. "
27 St. Thomas, In Met., VII, lect. 7, n. 1428. Cf. ibid., n. 1422:
"The
of

CONSIDERATIONS

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4!!9

and the individual. That which is generated essentially, namely,
the concrete individual, and that which comes into being
accidentally, the form, is of primary importance in causality,
as we will see later, and affects the whole theory of evolution.
Prime matter in the abstract is indifferent to all substantial
forms. In concrete cases, however, there must always exist
a proportion between matter and form which is both specific
and individual because there always ·exists a proportion between
potency and act. No species can be generated unless matter
is endowed with the disposition required for that species; and
in like manner a form cannot inform concrete matter unless
that form is proportioned to its individual conditions. 28
Insofar as evolution is concerned, this means that the required disposition of matter is an absolutely necessary condition for the eduction of new form and, consequently, of a
new species. The more perfect a species, the better a disposition
is required in the matter to which it corresponds. Corruption
results from the lack of this disposition: " As the form is not
educed unless matter is endowed with the right disposition, if
the proper disposition no longer exists the form cannot inform
that matter." 29

Changes Required in the Disposition of Matter to Generate
New Species
In the process of substantial generation the individual being
which belongs to one species is corrupted and replaced by
another individual being which belongs to another species, as
a thing refers properly to its form. Hence individual conditions, which pertain to
a form accidentally, are excluded from it. And species and other individuals are
generated only accidentally, when singular things are generated."
28 Aristotle, Met. Vlll, 4, 1044a15;
St. Thomas, II Contra Gentes, c. 81:
" Thus, form and matter must always be mutually proportioned and, as it were,
naturally adapted, because the proper act is produced in its proper matter. That
is why matter and form must always agree with one another in re9pect to
multiplicity and unity." Ibid., Vlll MetapkyB., lect. 4, n. 1780: "From the
things which are said here then it is evident that there is one first matter for all
generable and corruptible things, but different proper matters for different things. "
•• St. Thomas, Quut. de Anima, q. 1, a. 9 ad 16.

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occurs, for example, in chemical reactions. This disposition
of the matter gradually becomes less proportioned to the
existing form until the moment when the original being is
corrupted and a new being is generated. This transformation
takes place instantaneously, for there is no possibility of two
forms simultaneously informing the same prime matter.
In chemistry this process offers no difficulty; in biology, however, when one takes into account the experimental data, the
problem is much more complex. According to many geneticists,
the process of transformation of one species into another seems
to be opposed to the hylemorphic theory, for the species changes
so gradually it seems impossible to determine the instant the
new species is generated. " The distinction of species is in a
sense arbitary. The transition of morphological traits occurs
more or less gradually and irregularly. It is impossible to
establish a precise temporal level which may constitute the
division between species. . . ." 30 Hence, for geneticists, any
philosophical system which claims to be meaningful needs to
integrate the creative dimension of time and the essential trait
of change in reality, especially in organic reality.
From the philosophical viewpoint, if by species we mean the
" community of procreation," then the gradual transformation
of one species into another offers no difficulty, for the philosopher considers the gradual transition of one species into another,
e. g., of different species of cats, as accidental changes within
one species. For the philosopher, the species of cat undergoes
accidental transformation without thereby changing the species.
Here, we face a semantic problem, for philosophers and geneticists do not share the same concept of species.
This consideration, however, is one part of the problem, for
experimental data seems to prove that the transformation of one
species into another in the Aristotelian sense of the word takes
place in nature, which requires a new substantial form. In this
case it is difficult to explain how the change can occur at an instant, and not gradually, as geneticists contend. Charge of form
•• F. Ayala, art. cit., p. 61.

CONSIDERATIONS

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must take place instantaneously: if the form F 2 of the new species
replaces the form F1 of the corrupted one, there is not room for
intermediate states. The riddle does not seem insurmountable,
however, if we recall how generation and corruption occur.
The disposition of matter changes gradually, without the loss
of the first form, F1, until the precise instant when this form
is corrupted and the new form, F2, is generated. Though we
may be ignorant of the precise instant that it takes place, this
could be a valid description of the transformation of species.
Through mutation and natural selection, the disposition and
the structure of the DNA gradually changes, until the instant
when the new disposition and new structure corresponds to a
new substantial form and, consequently, to a new species.
Geneticists tell us that many mutations are required to produce
new species. " One thing no single mutation has done is to
produce a new species, genus, or family. This is because species
and supraspecific categories differ always in many genes, and
hence arise by the summation of many mutational steps." 31

Time and the Evolution of Species
How does time influence the generation and corruption of
individuals and species? It is evident that time favors the
corruption of things:
A thing, then, will be affected by time, just as we are accustomed
to say that time wastes things away, and that all things grow old
through time, and that there is oblivion owing to the lapse of time,
but we do not say the same of getting to know or becoming young
or fair. For time is by its nature the cause rather of decay, smce
it is the number of change, and change removed what is.32
Since time is the measure of motion and motion is the cause
of corruption of things, time does by its nature tend to corrupt
things. St. Thomas notes that corruption can be ascribed to
time and generation and existence to the agent which causes
the generation. 33 It is also true, however, that time indirectly
Th. Dobzhansky, Genetics and the Origin of Species, p. 81.
•• Aristotle, Physics. IV, 12, 2lla28-84.
•• St.Thomas, IV Phys., lect. 22, n. 621.

31

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causes the generation of new being inasmuch as it favors the
corruption of the previous one which is new life's necessary
pre-condition.
Time is also related to the second law of thermodynamics,
the law of entropy. Entropy indicates a gradual diminution
of the process of generation along the millennia, which
eventually leads to the "heat death" of the universe. The law
of entropy does not violate the principle of conservation of
energy, but it indicates that the total energy gradually loses
the possibility of being used. Consequently, the whole process
of generation is gradually slowing down. Time and entropy
could be said to operate in opposite directions, for time by its
nature tends to favor corruption and entropy to slow down
that process. Time cannot be a creative factor in evolution
except indirectly, in the sense that it favors corruption, which
is the prerequisite for generation.
Schrodinger believed that the entropy of a living organism
did not increase but decreased. It is obvious, however, that
in the organic as well as in the inorganic world entropy increases
in closed systems. It does not necessarily, and in fact it often
does not, increase in every element of the system. Palacios
demonstrated experimentally that, if an organism is placed in
a closed system, the entropy of the system increases as the
organism develops. Although the biological organism evolves
over time-and needs a long time-time by its nature is only
in an indirect way the cause of a new species. The positive
element of biological evolution lies in the agent, which is the
creative factor in producing a new species, not in time per se.84
Another philosophical problem regarding time presents itself.
We are often told that the theory of relativity unifies time and
space and that, consequently, time influences the categories of
human thought. Such a view is misleading since the theory of
relativity does not consider, as does philosophy, the ontological
reality of time but merely its measure; and this not in direct
relation to space, for time without motion does not exist:
•• E. Schrodinger, "Heredity and Quantum Theory," in The World of Mathematics (New York, 1856), Vol. I, pp. 975-1001.; Julio Palacios, De la Fisica a la
Biologia (Madrid, 1947).

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" Hence, since motion in respect to place is motion from something in respect to magnitude, and since every magnitude is
continuous, then it is necessary that motion is consequent upon
magnitude and continuity. That is, since magnitude is continuous, motion is continuous.
And, consequently, time is
continuous. . . ." 35 In Aristotle, as well as in Newton, there
exists a necessary connection between time and space, that is,
the motion which takes place in that space.
The theory of relativity, it is true, changes this relation somewhat, as Einstein himself observes:
First, a remark concerning the relation of the theory to the " four
dimensional space." It is a widespread error that the special theory
of relativity is supposed to have, to a certain extent, first discovered, or .at any rate, newly introduced, the four dimensionality
of the physical continuum. This, of course, is not the case. Classical
mechanics, too, is based on the four dimensional continuum of
space and time. But in the four dimensional continuum of classical
physics the subspaces with constant time value have an absolute
reality, independent of the choice of the reference system. Because
of this (fact) the four dimensional continuum falls naturally into
a three-dimensional and one-dimensional (time), so that the four
dimensional point of view does not force itself upon one as necessary.
The special theory of relativity, on the other hand, creates a formal
dependence between the way in which the special coordinates on
the one hand, and the temporal coordinates, on the other, have to
enter into the natural laws. 36

It is the quantitative relation between space and time through
motion that relativity has changed in physics as a consequence
of the invariance of the velocity of light. The theory of relativity, however, does not essentially change the ontology of
time as a category of thought.

III.

CAUSALITY

Disposition of Matter
After an analysis of the process of generation and corruption we must now investigate the causes of this phenomenon.
•• St. Thomas, IV Physic., IV, Iect. 17, n. 576.
86

A. Einstein, Albert Einstein:

57-58.

Philosopher Scientist (New York, 191i7), pp.

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First of all, since matter and form are proportioned, the generation of any being requires the right disposition of matter as a
necessary condition for its becoming. What kind of cause
produces this disposition? This question offers no difficulty,
for natural agents change the disposition of matter until that
matter is no longer well disposed to the existing form. Accordingly, that being is corrupted and a new being simultaneously
generated. These natural agents operate by transmuting
matter, and this causality as with all corporeal agents is
exercised by motion. Since local motion is the first motion,
any transmutation of matter depends initially upon that
motion, which is a way of saying that the right disposition of
matter depends on its structure, the spatial disposition of its
parts. Changes in this disposition affect the structure of the
being and, accordingly, the nature of the being as such. 37
Is the disposition of matter merely a necessary condition, or
is this disposition a necessary and sufficient condition for the
eduction of the new form? Does the eduction of the new
form necessarily follow the right disposition of matter? According to St. Thomas, such is the case. He holds the principle
that the individual form depends upon the disposition of
the individual matter, and the specific form upon the disposition of the specific matter. The disposition of matter,
then, conditions the nature of the individual and specific form.
Naturally, this disposition is not the direct cause of the generation of the new form, but since the new form must be in
proportion to the matter, its disposition conditions the nature
of that form. To a new disposition of matter automatically
follows the education of the form which corresponds to that
disposition.
87 St. Thomas.
On the Power of God, q. 5, a. 1 ad 5: "Inasmuch as corporeal
agents do not act except by transmuting, and as nothing is transmuted except by
by reason of matter, the causality of corporeal agents cannot extend beyond things
that in some way are in matter." Ibid., III Cont. Gent., c.
"Nor can
alteration be accomplished unless there be a preceding local change. . . ."

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Causes of the Becoming of the Individual Being
The causality which accounts for the generation of forms
leads us to the heart of philosophical speculation. Plato was
the first to realize the difficulties in the concept of forms existing in matter as something permanent and universal, since these
forms as they exist in individuals are eventually corrupted.
Hence, for Plato the generation of forms can only be explained
by transcending the material realm. Consequently, he postulated the existence of Ideas, of separated forms, which were the
cause of everything that is made. The natural agent merely
disposes the matter, but the generation of forms demands a
spiritual cause: the forms existing in matter are forms by participation, wherefore the physical world is merely receptive.
Man (essentially) is the cause of the participation of" humanity " in man.
Plato held that there exists an immaterial man, and an immaterial
horse, and so forth, and that from such the individual sensible
things that we see are constituted, insofar as in corporeal matter
there abides the impression received from these separated forms, by
a kind of assimilation, or as he called it, participation .... 38

For Aristotle, however, the starting point is nature which
manifests the general property of mobility, and local motion as
the first motion. The eduction of forms is also a natural
process, for
the artist makes or the father begets, a " such " of " this." And
when it has been begotten, it is a " this such." And the whole,
" this " Callias or Socrates, is analogous to " this brazen sphere,"
but man and animal to "brazen sphere" in general. Obviously,
then, the cause which consists of the Forms (taken in the sense in
which some maintain the existence of the Forms, i. e., if they are
something apart from the individuals) is useless, at least with
regard to coming to be and to substances .... 39

For St. Thomas, the realm of Ideas is not necessary for the
explanation of generation of forms, because Plato sought a
St. Thomas, Summa Theol., I, q. 65, a. 4.
•• Aristotle, Met., VI, 8, 1088b22 ff.

38

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cause of forms as though the forms were of themselves brought
into being whereas what is made, properly speaking, is the
composite:
Such are the forms of corruptible things that at one time they exist
and at another exist not, without being themselves generated and
corrupted, but by reason of the generation and corruption of the
composite, since ev.en forms have no being, but composites have being through them: for according to a thing's mode of being is the
mode in which it is brought into being. Since, then, like is produced from like we must not look for the causes of corporeal forms
in any immaterial form but in something that is composite. . . .
Corporeal forms, therefore, are caused, not as emanation from some
immaterial form but by matter being brought from potentiality
into act by some composite agent. 40
For Aristotle and St. Thomas, the only subsisting being is
not the form but the composite, the individual:
Callias and
Socrates are the individuals that come into being. And since
individuals are material, there is no need for the realm of Ideas
as the cause of these concrete individuals. The cause of the
generation of individuals is another individual, although the
individual is not the cause of the species:
This individual man is the cause, properly speaking, of that individual man. Now, this man exists because human nature is present
in this matter, which is the principle of individuation. So this man
is not the cause of man, except in the sense that he is the cause of
human form coming to be in this matter. This is the principle of
an individual man. 41
Plato's error was to consider the forms as subsisting, whereas it
is the composite which actually comeS! into being and subsists.
•• St. Thomas, Summa Theol., loc. cit.; cf. ibid., q. 45, a. 8: "But his opinion
arose from ignorance concerning form. For they failed to consider that the form of
the natural body is not subsistent, but is that by which a thing is. And therefore,
since to be made and to be created belong properly to a subsisting thing 'llone, ...
it does not belong to forms to be made or to be created, but to
concreated.
What indeed is properly made by the natural agent is the composite, which is made
from matter. "
41 St. Thomas, III Cont. Gent., c. 65 . . Cf. Summa Theol. I, q. 91, a. 2:
"A form
which is in matter can only be the cause of another form that is in matter,
according as composite is made by composite. "

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For St. Thomas, the corporeal agent is the cause not only of
the disposition of matter, but also of the generation of the
form. 42

The Causality which Corresponds to the Species
The causality which corresponds to the process of generation
appears to be solved by consideration of the causality which
accounts for the disposition of matter and the eduction of
form. The problem is deeper, however, because these causalities
are responsible merely for the becoming of things, not their
being.
Motion is apart from the being of the thing. Now nothing corporeal, unless it be moved, is the cause of anything, for no body acts
unless by motion as Aristotle proves. Therefore, no body is the
cause of the being of anything, insofar as it is being, but it is the
cause of its being moved towards being, that is, of the thing's
becoming. 48
This is equivalent to saying that the agent is the cause of
the generation of the individual but not of the species:
No particular univocal agent can be the unqualified cause of its
species; for instance, this individual man cannot be the cause of
the human species, for he would then be the cause of every individual man, and, consequently, of himself-which is impossible. But
this individual man is the cause, properly speaking, of that individual man. Now, this man exists because human nature is present
in this matter, which is the principle of individuation. So this man
is not the cause of a man except in the sense that he is the cause
of a human form coming to be in this matter. This is the principle
of generation of an individual man. So, it is apparent that neither
this man, nor any other univocal agent in nature, is the cause of
anything except the generation of this or that individual thing. 44
.. Ibid., On the Power of God, q. 5, a. I ad 5.
•• Ibid., Ill Cont. Gent., c. 65.
u Ibid., III, c. 65, Cf. Summa Theol., I, q. 45, a. 5 ad 1:
"A perfect thing
participating any nature, makes a likeness to itself, not by absolutely producing that
nature, but by applying it to something else. For an individual man cannot be the
cause of human nature absolutely, because he would then be the cause of himself;
but he is the cause of human nature being in the man begotten; and thus he
presupposes in his action a determinate matter whereby he is an individual man ... "

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Naturally, this is incomprehensible unless we admit the distinction between individuals and species. Aristotle summarizes the
problem by saying that the same form is shared by many
individuals, but the form remains the same. Although Callias
and Socrates differ in their matter, they share the same form. 45
The form of a species by its nature is indivisible and immobile.
Hence, the multiplication of the form by individuals is not a
consequence of the division of the form but of the division of
matter, which is divisible. The form is divisible only indirectly,
accidentally (per accidens), inasmuch as the matter which
informs is divisible.
Hence, the distinctions between the becoming and the being,
the individual and the species, motion and immobility, are
grounded at the same point. This justifies the causality of
becoming as different from that of being. St. Thomas illustrates this distinction by an analogy noting that with artificial
beings the builder of the house is merely the cause of its
becoming not its being. Its being, on the contrary, depends
upon the brick, steel, stone, wood, etc., and not on the builder.
And he continues:
The same principle applies to natural things. For if an agent is
not the cause of form as such, neither will it be directly the cause
of being which results from that form: but it will be the cause of
the effect, in its becoming only. Now it is clear that of two things
in the same species one cannot directly cause the other's form as
such, since it would then be the cause of its own form, which is
essentially the same as the form of the others; but it can be the
cause of this form for as much as it is in matter-in other words,
it may be the cause that this matter receives this form. And this
is the cause of the becoming, as when man begets man. 46

And in like manner, since the becoming depends on the being,
the cause of becoming is subordinated to that of being, as an
instrument to the higher cause. 47
•• Aristotle, Met., VI, 8, 1033b32.
•• St. Thomas, Summa Theol., I, q. 104, a. 1. Cf. II Sent., d. 9, q. 2, a. 2 obj. 1!.
47 II Cont. Gent., c. 21: "Whatever is caused as regards some particular nature
cannot be the first cause of that nature but only the second and instrumental
cause; for example, since the human nature of Socrates has a cause, he cannot

CONSIDERATIONS

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We must ask now the nature of the cause of the form or
species. The first efficient cause of the form transcends the
causality of corporeal agents which operate exclusively by
motion; and motion is apart from the being of the thing.
Accordingly, the causality of the form requires a non-corporeal
cause, which St. Thomas explains thus:
The existence of a thing made depends on its efficient cause inasmuch as it depends on the form of the thing made. Now there
can be an efficient cause on which the form of the thing made
does not depend directly and considered as a form but only
indirectly: thus the form of a generated dog depends on the
generating dog directly and by reason of its species, and the form
of dog is in the same way in both the generated and in the
generating dog, and is distinguished therefrom only by a material
distinction, though being seated in another matter. Hence, since
the generated dog has its form from some cause, this same form
must depend on some higher principle that is the cause of that
form directly and in respect of its very species. Now, seeing that
properly speaking the existence of a form in matter implies no
movement or change except accidentally, and since no bodies act
unless moved, as the Philosopher shows, it follows of necessity that
the principle of which the form depends directly must be something
incorporeal, for the effect depends on its active cause through the
action of a principle. And if a corporeal principle be in some way
the cause of a form, this is due to its acting by virtue of an incorporeal principle and as its instrument. . . . Now this incorporeal
agent by whom all things are created is God from whom things
derive not only their form but also their matter. And it makes
no difference whether they were all made by him immediately, or
in a certain order as certain philosophers have maintained. 48

In summary: (i) The material cause produces not only the
disposition of matter as proportioned to the form but also
the eduction of the new form; man generates man and dog
be the first of human nature; if so, since his human nature is caused by someone,
it would follow that he was the cause of himself, since he is what he is by virtue
of human nature. Thus a univocal generator must have the status of an instrumental agent in respect of that which is the primary cause of the whole species.
Accordingly, all lower efficient causes must be referred to higher ones, as instrumental
to principle agents .... "
•• On the Power of God, q. 5, a. lc.

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generates dog. This generation, however, is exclusively reduced
to the becoming, not to the being, to the new individual which
exists in " that" particular matter, and this causality is
exercised by transmuting the matter through motion. (ii) The
generation of the form as such, however, transcends motion,
and since motion is the exclusive property of material beings,
then the cause of the form has to be incorporeal.
The consequences which follow St. Thomas's ideas on
causality are of great significance to the theory of evolution, for
according to these ideas the causality of natural agents in the
evolution of species is reduced to the preparation of matter and
the eduction of form. But the cause of the being, of forms as
such, is ascribed to spiritual causes.

The Final Cause and the Process of Generation and Corruption
Is the process of generation and corruption a consequence of
blind laws and pure chance or does it proceed by following a
purpose, a design? According to St. Thomas, the process of
generation tends towards superior beings and, ultimately, to
man as the most perfect being. Although prime matter is by
its nature indifferent to all forms, the concrete actualization of
forms is the result of the subordination of external agents,
which by acting upon one another, tend towards superior forms.
What is more perfect acts upon that which is less, what is
actual upon potency, thus producing through billions of years
higher and higher beings. Ultimately, the whole process of
generation is ordered to man's generation:
Since any moved thing, inasmuch as it is moved tends to the divine
likeness so that it may be perfected in itself, and since a thing is
perfect as it is actualized, the intention of everything existing in
potency must be to tend through motion towards actuality. And
so, the more posterior and more perfect an act is, the more fundamentally is the inclination of matter directed towards it. Hence,
in regard to the last and more perfect act that matter can attain,
the inclination of matter whereby it desires form must be inclined
as towards the ultimate end of generation. Now, among the acts
pertaining to forms, certain graduations are found. Thus, prime
matter is in potency, first of all, to the form of an element ... and a

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sensitive one to an intellectual one. . . . After this last type of form,
no later and more noble form is found in the order of generable
and corruptible things. Therefore, the ultimate end of the whole
process of generation is the human soul, and matter tends towards
it as the ultimate form. So, elements exist for the sake of mixed
bodies; these latter exist for the sake of living bodies, among which
plants exist for animals, and animals for men. Therefore, man is
the end of the whole order of generation. 49

The tendency of nature towards superior forms is realized
through evolution, as we now understand this term.
Another teleological trait exists in nature: the individual
exists for the sake of the species. According to St. Thomas,
the reason there are many individuals in a single species is that
the specific nature, which cannot be perpetuated in one individual, may be preserved in several. 5° "Furthermore, in each
individual that which belongs to the species is superior to the
individuating principle, which lies outside the essence of the
species. Therefore, the universe is ennobled more by the multiplication of species than by the multiplication of individuals
of one species." 51 Hence, the process of generation teaches us
that the individual exists for the sake of the species and that
the ultimate goal of the whole process of evolution Is the
generation of man.
The last teleological feature of the universe is due to the
absolute dependence of the universe upon God who directs the
motion of all beings towards their goals.
It is necessary to attribute providence to God. For all the good
that is in created things has been created by God. In created
things good is found also as regards order towards an end. The
good of order existing in things created, is itself created by God
. . . and the type of things ordered towards an end is, properly
speaking, providence. 52

If the dynamic orientation of created things towards their
goals constitutes providence, then how great is its extension?
•• III Cont. Gent., c. 22. Cf. ibid., 9: " ... The whole of generation is ordered
to man, as to an ultimate end in the genus of generable and mobile beings. "
50 II Cont. Gent., e. 98.
51 Ibid. Cf. Summa Theol., I, 47, a. 2.;
II Sent .. d. 8, 1, 4 ad 8.
•• Summa Theol., I, q. 22. a. 1.

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If this dynamic orientation does not consider the individual,
then it is possible and logical to introduce chance in evolution.
Divine providence, however, subjects all beings and all actions
to itself:
We must say that all things are subject to divine providence, not
only in general but even in their own individual selves. This is
made evident thus. For since every agent acts for an end, the
ordering of effects towards that end extends as far as the causality
of the first agent extends .... But the causality of God, who is
the first ag.ent, extends to all beings, not only as to the constituent
principles of species but also as to the individualizing principles.
Hence, all things that exist in whatever manner are necessarily
directed by God towards some end .... 53

Since all particular causes are included under the universal
cause, no effect could take place outside the range of that
universal cause.
According to Thomistic philosophy, then, evolution is completely directed and planned by the Creator to the last detail.
Nothing escapes divine providence, certainly not the appearance of man through evolution.

IV. SciENTIFIC

EvoLuTION

AND CAUSALITY

The Genetic Code
In general, heredity consists in a self-replication of the genetic
material, or DNA, which with slight modifications is always
similar to the DNA of the parents. Evolution, however,
"appears to depend on self-replicating and self-varying (mutation) strings of DNA, and this self-replicating and selfvarying inevitably lead to natural selection. 54 Geneticists contend that, although sexual reproduction reshuffles the DNA
deck of cards, no new genes can be created. Only various new
combinations of existing genes come into play. Evolution, however, presupposes changes in the gene pool of a population,
and there are four known processes which change this pool:
(i) mutation; (ii) random fluctuation of genetic frequencies
•• Ibid., q. 2 ad I.

"'In Evolution, p. 95.

CONSIDERATIONS

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known as "sampling errors"; (iii) migration of individuals
in and out of the population; and (iv) natural selection. 55
Mutation and natural selection, however, are the two primary
factors in the process of evolution.
In order to understand the change of one species into another
it is necessary to keep in mind that in every chromosome, in
every cell, of every individual there exists a molecule that makes
a mouse a mouse and a man a man-DNA. The secret of its
creative diversity is not in its composition but in its structure.
The way in which DNA is built accounts for the billions of
forms it can command. 56 Geneticists now think that it is the
order of the steps of the DNA molecule which gives every gene
its special character. The amount of DNA in a living organism
and the complexity of the organism also seem to be somewhat
correlated.

The Change of Species Through the Code and Causality
The distinction of species depends upon the amount of
chromosomes and the structure of the DNA, for every species
is materially determined by these traits. A change in species,
then, must be the result of a change in the structure of its
particular DNA molecule. Are the four factors mentioned
previously capable of changing this structure and producing a
completely new one? According to geneticists, mutation plus
natural selection gradually change the structure and shape of
the DNA until a new species is generated.
55 F. Ayala, "Teleological
Explanations in Evolutionary Biology," Philosophy
of Science, Vol. 37, n. 1, p. 3.
56 Evolution,
pp. 100-103; ibid., p. 96: "In greatly simplified terms ;t is the
line up of the DNA, whether normal or mutated, that dictates the order of amino
acids in the protein. This in terms dictates the " shape " and hence the specific
activity of the proteins; and protein activity dictates the form of all living things.
Or to put into numbers, the 4 bases of DNA arrange 20 universal amino acids in
patterns forming the thousands of proteins that control life's infinite variety."
The Cell, p. 61: "Geneticists now think that it is the order of these steps, the
arrangement of TA's etc. that gives every gene its special character.
The
amount of DNA in a living organism, and the complexity of the organism seems
to be correlated. "

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In general, the philosopher has no difficulty in simultaneously
accepting the general theory of causality and the role of the
DNA molecule in evolution. According to causality, the evolution of species first requires a new disposition of matter. A
new structure of the DNA molecule corresponds to the concept
we have characterized as the disposition of matter. To a profound change in the structure of the DNA, then, corresponds
a new species, inasmuch as the form of the species must be in
proportion to the new structure of the DNA. "One thing no
single mutation has done is to produce a new species, genus, or
family," Dobzhansky says. "This is because species and
supraspecific categories differ always in many genes, and hence
arise by summation of many mutational steps." 57
This leads us to a crucial issue: How is it possible to dispose
the genetic material for a superior form? Where is the cause
which produces this disposition? Here natural selection appears
to be the primary factor. Natural selection is not merely a
negative force in evolution but an element which creates new
and superior structures in the DNA molecule that demand
the emergence of new forms and new species.
Natural selection is comparable not to a sieve but to a regulatory
mechanism in a cybernetic system. The genetic endowment of a
living species receives and accumulates information about the
challenges of the environment in which the species lives. The
evolutionary changes are creative responses to the challenges of the
environment. They are not alterations imposed by the environment
as Lamarckists mistakenly thought. 58

It is possible then, to dispose a new a.nd superior matter
through natural selection which also demands a superior form
and species.
Evolution has achieved more than to preserve life on earth from
destruction. It has created progressively more complex and adaptively more secure organizations. The human species has achieved
the peak of biological security. 59
•• Th. Dobzhansky, Genetics and the Origin of Species, p. 81.
•• Th. Dobzhansky, The Biology of Ultimate Concern (New York, 1967), p. li!!t.
•• Ibid., p. 129.

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From the philosophical viewpoint, this is perfectly acceptable
because natural agents act as instruments of superior agents
which are the principal causes of that disposition. 60

Natural Selection
This schematic explanation of the causality corresponding to
evolution depends, even philosophically speaking, on natural
selection which was Darwin's greatest contribution to the
science of evolution. The adaptation and diversity of life and
the appearance of new highly organized forms can be explained
by the orderly process of change which Darwin called natural
selection.
We feel sure that any variation in the least injurious could be
rigidly destroyed. This preservation of favorable variations and the
rejection of injurious variations I call natural selection.61
Of course, natural selection is not exactly as Darwin conceived it, for
... the selectively fit, or if you will, the fittest, is not necessarily
a fellow with big muscles, or a lusty fighter, or a conqueror of all
his competitors. He is rather a paterfamilias who has raised a large
number of children who in turn become paterfamilias. 62
National selection is basically differential reproduction; it enhances the development of the life of the individual and
ultimately of the species.
Instead of being purely a process of statistical chance, natural
selection, on the contrary, is an orderly process of change
governed by natural laws. As a directive force in evolution,
natural selection is not predictable as are physical laws which
are based on the repetition of similar circumstances. Although
60 St. Thomas, On the Power of God. q. 5, a. 1 c.
"This corporeal agent acts by
virtue of the incorporeal principle, and its action terminates in this or that form . . .
Accordingly, these corporeal agents are not the cause of the forms in things made,
except they do not act except by transmuting, and this is by transmuting matter
and educing the form from the potentiality of matter."
61 Ch. Darwin, The Origin of Species.
Quoted by Ayala in "A biologist's view
of nature," A New Ethic for a New Earth, p. 30.
•• Th. Dobzhansky, Heredity and the Nature of Man (New York, 1966), pp.
153-154.

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such repetition does not occur in biological evolution, natural
selection is certainly not haphazard. 63 As the geneticists say,
causal relations, not caprice, prevail in nature. 64
For the philosopher interested in evolution the significance of
natural selection is best summarized by Dobzhansky, that
natural selection tends to maximize the probability of the
preservation and expansion of life. The adaptation of plant
life to a desert climate, for example, is a consequence of
natural selection:
The fundamental adaptation is the condition of dryness which
carries the danger of desiccation. During a major part of the
year, sometimes for several years in succession, there is no rain.
Plants have satisfied the urgent necessity of saving water in different ways. Cacti have transformed their leaves into spines, having
made their stems into barrels containing a reserve of water. Photosynthesis is performed on the surface of the stem instead of on the
leaves. Other plants have no leaves during the dry season, but
after it rains they burst into leaves and flowers and produce seedsall within the space of the few weeks while water is available. The
rest of the year the seeds lie quiescent in the soil.65
Nat ural selection can also generate new organs by increasing
the probability of otherwise extremely improbable genetic combinations. For instance, geneticists regard the formation of the
vertebrate eye as an example of natural selection:
... the combination of genetic units which carries the hereditary
information responsible for the formation of the vertebrate eye
have never been produced by a random process like mutationnot even if we allow for the three billion years plus during which
life has existed on earth. The complicated anatomy of the eye like
the exact functioning of the kidney are the result of a nonrandom
process-natural selection. 66

The Finality which Corresponds to Evolution
Some geneticists explain evolution in terms of teleology. In
general, teleological explanations imply the existence of means63 See Evolution After Darwin, Vol. 8, p. 107.
"'Th. Dobzhansky, The Biology of Ultimate Concern, pp. 126, 122. C. G.
Simpson, Evolution After Darwin, Vol. I, p. 166.
65 F. Ayala. "Teleological
Explanations in Evolutionary Biology," loc. cit., p. 7
•• F. Ayala, "A biologist's view of nature," loc. cit., p. 35.

CONSIDERATIONS

ON BIOLOGICAL

EVOLUTION

447

to-end relationship in the system under consideration, thereby
suggesting that the system is directly organized and intelligible.
" Teleological explanations imply that such contribution is the
explanatory reason for the presence of the process or object in
the system." 67 For example, it is appropriate to give a teleological explanation of the operation of the kidney in regulating the concentration of salt in the blood; we have a kidney
because the regulation of the concentration of salt in the
organism is a necessity. The philosopher accepts this concept
of teleology, for he defines finality as " that for the sake of which
something is done." " That for the sake of which something is
done" is the justification of the existence of a means-to-end
relationship.
In Darwin's theory purpose is absolutely indispensable to
his reasoning. As Cassirer points out:
it is safe to assert that no earlier biological theory ascribed quite
as much significance to the idea of purpose, or advocated it so
emphatically, since not only individual but absolutely all the
phenomena of life are regarded from the standpoint of their survival
value. All other questions retreat into the background before this

one.68
The survival value is the ultimate purpose in Darwin's theory.
Teleology also corresponds to contemporary natural selection,
for the adaptation of organisms is an observed fact which
enhances the conservation and development of individuals, and
as its ultimate goal, the conservation and improvement of
species. In general terms, natural selection is teleologically
oriented in that it produces and maintains end-directed organs
and mechanisms when the functions they serve contribute to
the reproductive efficiency of the organism. 69 More difficult to
explain teleologically is the operation of the genes and their
mutation. It is clear that mutation alone would produce chaos,
67

F. Ayala, "Biology as an autonomous science" in American Scientist, Vol. 56,

n. 3, p. 214. Cf. ibid., p. 214.
68 E. Cassirer, The Problem of Knowledge
(Tr. by W. H. Woglom and C. W.
Hendel, New Haven, Conn., 1950), p. 166.
•• F. Ayala, "Biology as an autonomous science," loc. cit., p. 217.

448

ANTONIO MORENO

not evolution. But natural selection redresses the balance;
harmful genes are reduced in frequency, and useful ones
perpetuated and multiplied. 70
Dobzhansky observes that the history of life is comparable
to human history since both proceed by trial and error, with
false starts, yet achieving progress on the whole. The paradoxical feature of, biological evolution, however, is that design and
chance appear simultaneously.
Adherents of finalism and orthogenesis contend that, since it is
quite incredible that evolution could all be due to " chance," one
must assume that it has had a design which it has followed. The
reality is, however, more complex and more interesting than the
chance vs. design dichotomy suggest. 71

It is more complex, because in the evolutionary process life had
innumerable other potentialities which remained unrealized
since only a tiny fraction of possible gene combinations can
be actualized. Certainly, there is an element of chance in
mutations, yet chance is directed by an anti-chance agent in
evolution-natural selection responding to environmental challenges.
Together with natural selection, especially in the evolution
of higher organisms, there are discernible elements of creativity
and freedom. For example, all desert plants must cope with
dryness; but different plants do so by a variety of means.
Animals must have some organs for respiration; yet these may
be gills, tracheae, lungs, and so forth. As Dobzhansky concludes,
the multiplicity of ways of becoming adapted to similar environments is not in accord with hypotheses of design and orthogenesis
in evolution; these hypotheses would lead one rather to expect that
a single and presumably most perfect method, will be used everywhere. On the contrary, natural selection is more permissible ....
Only a minuscule fraction of the potentially possible gene combinations are ever actualized. 72
Th. Dobzhansky, The Biology of Ultimate Concern, p. 122.
Ibid., p. 125.
•• Ibid., p. 127.
70

71

CONSIDERATIONS

ON BIOLOGICAL

EVOLUTION

449

Yet, we must not personalize natural selection, Dobzhansky
warns, for it is not some kind of spirit or demon who' directs
evolution to accomplish some set purpose. " Groping in the
dark " is the only way natural selection can proceed, and this
"groping " is " opportunistic and shortsighted." Lacking a
preview of the future, natural selection adapts the living species
to the environments which exist " here and now." 73
Dobzhansky's brilliant interpretation of natural selection
must be examined carefully. Rejecting the hypothesis of design
in evolution he sees natural selection as opportunistic and short·sighted and often culminating in failure. 74 He notes the danger
of natural selection being personalized as if it directed evolution to accomplish some set purpose. Dobzhansky is followed
with some difficulty here since the philosophical concept of
purpose and design, when applied to genetics, must necessarily
be shortsighted, for nature can only work with " here and now "
circumstances. Dobzhansky rightly points out that the transmittal of particular maternal and paternal genes is a matter of
chance. 75 But natural selection directs these genes by "shortsightedly " adapting them to the immediate environment. It
is true that natural selection is opportunistic; it cannot be
otherwise. Sometimes natural selection fails-it cannot always
cope with an adverse environment, but even in these cases it
does not cease to struggle. The same purpose is manifested in
•• Ibid., p. 128. Cf. ibid., p. 128. "Evolution has achieved more than to preserve
life on earth from destruction. It has created progressively more complex and
adaptively more secure organizations. The human species has attained the peak
of biological security. It is unlikely to become extinct because of any conflicts
with its physical or biological environments. "
"' Th. Dobzhansky writes this on Teihard de Chardin, ibid., p. 128: " Groping
in the dark is, indeed, the only way natural selection can proceed. Now, groping
may lead to discovery of openings toward new opportunities for living. It may also
end in a fall from a precipice. It may preserve and enchance life, or it may lead
to extinction. Teilhard was a paleoneologist, and he was quite familar with
extinction of evolutionary lines. Yet he devoted strangely little attention
to this phenomenon in his writings. It would have caused him no difficulty
had he realized that natural selection is necessarily opportunistic and shortsighted
in its groupings. "
•• Ibid., p. 126.

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ANTONIO

MORENO

failure as well as in the instances of success. In both cases,
individuals and species struggle for survival and for adaptation
to the environment. Among human beings there are many
individuals who cannot cope with the " here and now " circumstances and die. There are tribes in the Amazon River on the
verge of extinction, in spite of their life-and-death struggle for
existence. Many species of animals are now disappearing, not
because they do not strive for survival but because their
opportunistic and shortsighted reaction to the " here and now ''
situation is insufficient to overcome adverse conditions created
by man. In all these cases natural selection is at work, and
certainly has its effect on the species continuing struggle for
survival, though it fails. The concept of finality and design does
not necessarily presuppose success but rather a certain orientation or intention.
Dobzhansky's main thesis, again, must only be accepted with
reluctance, if at all: " The multiplicity of ways of becoming
adapted to similar environment is not in accord with hypotheses of design and orthogenesis in evolution, for these hypotheses would lead one rather to expect that a single and
presumably most perfect method will be used everywhere." 76
Is it not questionable that this conclusion is contained in the
premises? Certainly physical bodies always follow the single
and most perfect method in motion, according to relativity,
the geodesic, and the law of minimum energy. 77 But this is not
the way evolution proceeds, because biological evolution is not
deterministic in the way physics is. Natural selection depends
upon mutation and chance and, as such, the genetic code
possesses an almost infinite number of possibilities. Yet the
actualization of these potentialities is restricted by the laws of
statistical probability to one at a time. In other words, the
Ibid., p. 127.
Although the uncertainty principle seems to reject the deterministic pattern
of physical laws, the interpretation of this principle is far from easy. Einstein
still believes in the absolute determinism of physical laws, contrary to Bohr and
Heisenberg. In addition, we should bear in mind that the laws of physics are
idealizations, and, consequently, no more than approximations.
76
77

CONSIDERATIONS

ON BIOLOGICAL

EVOLUTION

451

nature of living beings necessarily presuppposes the impossibility of the simultaneous actualization of these possibilities. It
also presupposes-due to the variety of genes and " here and
now " circumstances-that " a single and presumably most perfect method " can hardly ever be achieved. It should be
emphasized that the design for survival in genetics always
implies a means-to-end relationship which by its nature must
be opportunistic and shortsighted. The well-known failures do
not invalidate the existence of design; even extinct species
witness to the finality and design that is realized through
natural selection. In man, too, there exists purpose and design
which is realized in free actions. There are many potentialities
in a single individual which will never be actualized, although
this does not destroy purpose or design. It only tells us that
design is realized in a particular way and not always by following the most perfect method.

Philosophical Teleology and Scientific Teleology in Evolution
The philosopher benefits from the discoveries of contemporary biology. Natural selection explains concretely how St.
Thomas's idea of the gradual actualization of prime matter
towards superior forms takes place: this gradual actualization
is realized through evolution. In addition, natural selection
fined as differential reproduction presupposes the preservation
and development of species, as St. Thomas believed.
The philosopher observes the existence of two basic instincts
in living beings: the instinct of self-preservation and of the
preservation of the species. The former is subordinated to the
latter, as natural selection most conclusively indicates. Rejecting Freud's death instinct, or death drive, as highly irnprobable/8 Dobzhansky attests to the instinct of self-preservation, for " all organisms, from the lowest to the highest, react
to stimuli that commonly occur in their habitual environment
in ways that tend to maximize the chances of their survival." 79
Placed in novel conditions, however, the body loses its wisdom,
78

Th. Dobzhansky, The Biology of Ultimate Concern, p. 75.

•• Ibid., p. 74.

ANTONIO

MORENO

"in short, there is no instinct of self-preservation, if by such an
' instinct ' one means an ability to react to all environmental
stimuli always in such a manner as to preserve the individual's
life." 80 Here Dobzhansky is in complete agreement with the
philosophical concept of self-preservation. There is no such
thing as universal wisdom, for the living being reacts in ways
which subordinate everything to the preservation of its life
in a limited way. A creature is naturally not always aware of
everything that may endanger its life, so the instinct of selfpreservation necessarily operates within the limits of concrete
knowledge. But this knowledge is, of course, subject to further
development. Even dogs, for example, can learn through experience that crossing a busy street can be dangerous. :Man is
physically unaware of atomic radiation, but as soon as he learns
of its existence, he takes measures to avoid that danger.
As a final question it is important for the philosopher to
consider how living organisms adapt themselves to the environment since they do not do so consciously. If natural selection
presupposes a means-to-end relationship in the system, who
determines the end, who decides the means, and who knows
the relation between ends and means? Plants in the desert, for
example, store water since otherwise they would perish. The
storage of water is the means by which these plants preserve
themselves and their species. But how do plants know they
have to store water? It is remarkable to observe the following
hierarchical subordination of means tn ends: the preservation
of the species is the ultimate end, which requires the preservation of the individual plant; but this is impossible unless the
plant stores water, which in turn requires a change of the
normal process of photosynthesis. The ultimate goal, the preservation of the species, subordinates everything to itself and
is the reason and explanation for the whole process, which then
becomes more intelligible.
If natural selection is truly teleological, in other words, then
the process of evolution follows a scheme, a design. The kidney
exists, for example, because the living organism requires a
•• Ibid., p. 74.

CONSIDERATIONS

ON BIOLOGICAL

EVOLUTION

453

certain concentration of salt in the blood and not vice versa,
that is, there is a certain concentration of salt in the blood
because we have a kidney. The phenomena occurs because it is
intended; if it happens without being intended then the process
is not teleological, but merely a consequence of chance. The
biologist is not interested in this speculation, which belongs
properly to philosophy. Yet in the last analysis, it is the
problem of intention and knowledge that gives full intelligibility to evolution.
St. Thomas summarizes the need for knowledge of a teleological process thus: " The right ordering of a thing to a due end
requires knowledge of the end, and the means to it, and of the
due proportion between both: and this knowledge is found only
in an agent with intelligence." 81 The full explanation of the
biological process of evolution and of natural selection demands
an intelligence. The old aphorism that " the work of nature is
the work of an intelligence-Opus naturae est optts intelli-.
gentiae," seems apropos here. The concrete realization of St.
Thomas's three main ideas on finality makes evolution more
intelligible: 82 (i) man as the culmination of the whole process
of generation; (ii) the individual for the sake of the species;
and (iii) a supreme being directing the dynamic process of
the universe. Even Darwin in his early writings did not rule
out the possibility of a supreme being hidden behind the process
of nature. He declared at the very end of his Origin:
There is a grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers,
having been originally breathed by the Creator into a few .forms or
into one; and that, whilst this planet has gone cycling on according
to the fixed law of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms
most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being
evolved. 83
St. Thomas, II Cont. Gent., c.
When we postulate a supreme being as directing the dynamic process of the
universe, we do not mean that he directs the cosmos as we drive a car. He probably
directs the biological and cosmic process by using as instruments the very physical
and biological laws he created. A thermostat works without the actual direction
of those who constructed it who simply used physical and chemical laws to produce
the desired effect, namely, the regulation of temperature.
In like manner God
intervenes in nature by using natural laws in order to produce the desired efft-ct.
88 Ch. Darwin,
The Origin of Species, end.
81

82

454

ANTONIO

MORENO

The explanation of St. Augustine of the creation of the
universe in six days accounts for the gradual appearance of the
species along the millennia. St. Augustine, however, does not
pose the problem of evolution as it is formulated in contemporary terms, namely, as a gradual transformation of one species
into another:
The elements of this corporeal world have as a definite power and
as their proper quality that which each one can or cannot do, that
which can or cannot be made from each one. From these, as it were,
the beginnings of things, all that is produced receives in its proper
time its birth and its growth, the limits and the separations of
its own nature. Thence it is that a bean does not grow from a
grain of wheat, nor wheat from a bean, nor a man from an animal,
nor an animal from a man. 84

For St. Augustine, species are in potency, after the manner of
seed, which are actualized in due time. For every seminal ratio,
there will exist a species at the right time, but that new species
is not the result of the transformation of another species, which
is what modem evolution tells us.
Whether such a transformation is possible or not according
to St. Augustine's philosophical principles, it is impossible to
say. But the principles of a Thomistic philosophy can indeed
be applied to our modem view of biological evolution. In
Teilhard de Chardin's words: "Aristotelian hylemorphism represents the projection, upon a world without duration, of
modem evolutionism. Rethought within a universe in which
duration adds a further dimension, the theory of matter and
form becomes almost indistinguishable from our contemporary
speculations on the development of matter." 85 We heartily
agree with the French paleontologist.
ANTONIO MoRENo,

0. P.

Graduate Theological Union
Berkeley, California
•• St. Augustine, De Gen. ad litt., 9, 17,
ML 34, 406.
•• Teilhard de Chardin, Oeuvres, Vol. 3, p. 181. Cf. Raymond J. Nogar, 0. P.
The Wisdom of Evolution (New York, 1963). Raymond Nogar shows that
evolution is not at variance with Christian thought.

RAHNER AND HEIDEGGER: BEING, HEARING,
AND GOD

TI

IMMEDIATE GOAL of this essay is to delimit
e essential difference between Rahner's philosophy
religion and Heidegger's philosophy of Being. Why
is it necessary to establish the ground of disagreement between
these thinkers? For one thing, it has been claimed by some
that Heidegger's philosophy has had a profound effect on
Rahner's thought. Louis Roberts, for example, has maintained
"that Heidegger's influence on Rahner is nearly as great as
Marechal's." 1 Rahner himself suggests that "perhaps Dr.
Roberts overestimates this . . . influence somewhat." 2 In
any case, it will be maintained here that any valid interpretation of the influence of Heidegger on Rahner must take into
account the fundamental difference between them. It will be
maintained that this difference is at the level of the most
basic questions which each poses and therefore has ramifications which go beyond mere methodological differences. This
is not intended to be a refutation to the claim that Heidegger
has influenced Rahner, for he certainly has. It is merely hoped
that the delimitation of the fundamental difference between
their thought will make it possible to assess most accurately
how the one has influenced the other. This essay, however,
will not attempt such an assessment, nor will it attempt a
point by point comparison of Rahner's philosophy with Heidegger's.
A second reason for delimiting the difference between their
philosophies has to do with the relation of Heidegger's thought
to Thomistic philosophy, and more generally to metaphysics.
It is hoped that the investigation will clarify quite emphatically
Louis Roberts, The Achievement of Karl Rahner (New York, 1967), p. 17.
• Karl Rahner, "Forward" to The Achievement of Karl Rahner, p. viii.

1

455

456

ROBERT

MASSON

the fundamental differences which underlie any apparent similarities between Heidegger's perspective on the question of
being and the metaphysician's perspective.
The alleged influence of Heidegger on Rahner is evident, in
part, in the notion of "hearing" or "attending" (horen)
which plays a central role in the thought of both. In Hearers
of the Word Rahner definies man as essentially a potential
hearer of a word from God. The philosophy of religion must
prepare for this hearing by demonstrating metaphysically
that man has this potentiality. Consequently, Rahner defines
theology (theology in the "positive" and fundamental sense
as the reception of Revelation and not in the sense of its
elaboration) as a "hearing." Theology is fundamentally the
" hearing " either of an historical word from God or of his
silence. 3 Similarly, Heidegger's philosophy of Being could be
defined as a type of thinking which is essentially a " hearing,"
or better an " attending," but as will be shown, a very different
kind of hearing than is developed in Rahner's thought.
More fundamental for both thinkers than the notion of
hearing, however, is the notion of " being." Rahner argues
metaphysically to the notion of man as " hearer of the word "
from man's Vorgriff (pre-comprehension) of being. Similarly,
Heidegger's notion of man as a hearer is developed in his
attempt to think the meaning of Sein (Being) .4 The difference
between the notion of hearing in these two philosophies is
ultimately grounded in the difference in the question of being
posed by each. Fundamentally, therefore, this essay is concerned with the issue of being as it is developed in Rahner's
transcendental Thomism and Heidegger's philosophy of Being.
It is necessary to make explicit several further restrictions
of our topic. Since the essay is concerned with the point of
difference between Rahner and Heidegger, and since the volume
"Karl Rahner, Hearers of the Word, trans. Michael Richards (New Ym-k, 1968),
pp. 10-11. Hereafter: HW.
• For reasons which will become apparent Heidegger's Sein is translated here
as Being (capital B). Rahner's Sein which for him is equivalent to esse is
translated as being (small b).

RAHNER AND HEIDEGGER

451

and complexity of Heidegger's reflection on Being are so extensive, no attempt will be made here to give a balanced or
comprehensive presentation of Heidegger's thought in itself.
The primary focus of attention will be determined by the
presentation of Rahner's thesis. Nor will it be possible to
consider comprehensively the system of transcendental
Thomism, as it has come to be called, except insofar as it is
involved in the definition of man as a potential hearer of God's
word. Finally, although it is hoped that this essay will help
to indicate how one would proceed to investigate the relation
of Heidegger's philosophy to theology, such an investigationvery involved in itself-will not be pursued.
Since Rahner has published a reflection on Heidegger's
thought-although not an extensive one, and based only on
the early works-it seems quite natural to consider it first. 5
Hopefully the consideration of that article will enable us to
take an initial stance with regard to Rahner's evaluation of
Heidegger, and will also serve as a general introduction to
Heidegger's thought. An examination of Rahner's philosophy
of religion as developed in Hearers of the Word will follow,
with attention focused on those elements which subsequently
will be shown as the fundamental bone of contention between
Heidegger and Rahner. Having done this it will be necessary
to re-evaluate Rahner's critique of Heidegger's thought in the
light of what will be maintained is a more faithful reading of
Heidegger's question about Being. It will then be shown what
sense "hearing" comes to have in regard to such a question.
It will not be possible to limit the consideration of Heidegger
to one or two statements of his position and so indications will
have to be gleaned from a number of his works. The essay
concludes, contrary to the general consensus, that the philosophies of Rahner and Heidegger differ at the very level of
the question asked.

*

*

*

Karl Rahner, "The Concept of Existential Philosophy in Heidegger," trans.
Andrew Tallon, Philosophy Today, 13 (1969), pp. 126-37. Originally published
in French in 1940. Hereafter: CE.
5

458

ROBERT

MASSON

Rahner's essay on Heidegger is brief and attempts merely
to introduce its readers to the broad outlines of his philosophy.

It does not attempt either a comprehensive evaluation of his
thought or a comparison of it to other systems of thought.
Since Rahner does restrict the scope of his article, it would
be unfair to evaluate it as an extensive and nuanced interpretation, much less as necessarily representing Rahner's current
evaluation of Heideggerian philosophy. Nevertheless, the
essay does situate Heidegger's question within a specific context, and it does project and evaluate the possible development
of Heidegger's thought from that context. Although Rahner's
conjectures are only provisory, they nevertheless firmly establish the ground on which Rahner's thought confronts Heidegger's. It will be shown in the discussion of Hearers of the Word
how Rahner moves from this ground himself. In our own
re-evaluation of this essay, however, it will be shown that
the ground upon which Rahner bases his interpretation of
Heidegger is indeed very shaky ground. Although few of
Heidegger's later works were available in 1940, Rahner's interpretation misunderstands the most essential points made even
in the works which he did consider, sc. SZ, KM, WM, and WG. 6
This is, of course, not meant as a criticism of Rahner but as a
preparation for the delimitation of the difference between his
philosophy and Heidegger's.
Rahner considers Heidegger a metaphysician. As a meta6 The
following abbreviations will be used to refer to the translations of
Heidegger's works:
EM-An Introduction to Metaphysics trans. Ralph Manheim (New York, 1961).
KM-Kant and the Problem of Metaphysics trans. James S. Churchhill (Bloomington, Indiana, 1968) .
SZ-Being and Time, trans. John Macquarrie and Edward Robinson (New York,
1966). The pagination of the German edition is given in this translation and
used also in this paper.
WG-The Essence of Reason, trans. Terrence Malick (Evanston, 1969).
WM-" What is Metaphysics? " trans. R. F. C. Hull and Alan Crick, in Existence and
Being, ed. Werner Brock (Chicago, 1970), pp. 325-61.
Intro to WM-" The Way Back into the Ground of Metaphysics," trans. and ed.
Walter Kaufmann, Existentialism from Dostoevsky to Sartre (New York,
1969), pp. 206-21.

RAHNER AND HEIDEGGER

459

physician Heidegger, according to Rahner, asks about being as
such, in its totality, as that which is most general. Rahner
understands this concern with being as that which is most
general, as a concern about the act of being, the esse characteristic of all beings (ens). Likewise, he understands Heidegger's
concern with being in its totality as a concern with esse as the
unifying aspect under which all possible objects are able to be
comprehended and summed up, and as the ultimate cause to
which they can be related. Metaphysics insofar as it asks this
question about being is called "ontology," and insofar as it
looks for the universal basis of all being it is " theology." All
philosophy since Plato and Aristotle is at its base, therefore,
"onto-theological."
According to Rahner, Heidegger accepts
this heritage-this concern about being as such-and makes it
his own. (CE, 128)
What is distinctive, according to Rahner's interpretation,
about Heidegger's approach to metaphysics is that he seeks
to put it on a new foundation. The whole tradition of philosophy from Plato to Hegel has conceived being in terms of
logos and thus as correlative to thought or reason. J\ian was
defined as the animal rationalis and the question of being was
" interpreted from the logical grasp of being by thought."
(CE, 130) Rahner maintains that Heidegger's originality lies
in the fact that he asks the " question about being without
conceiving it beforehand as onto-logy." (CE, 130) Thus
Heidegger situates the question about being on a new plane
which does not presuppose the definition of man or being in
terms of logos, but which sees man as the place where being is
"comprehended " in a more fundamental way. According to
Rahner, this is why Heidegger defines his task as the establishing of a more "fundamental ontology." It is also for this
reason that Heidegger wants to go back beyond the traditional
starting point of metaphysics to the point of its origin with
the Pre-Socratics when being was not conceived beforehand
in terms of logic. (CE, 130)
Rahner maintains that this more fundamental investigation
of the being question assumes the form of a transcendental

460

ROBERT MASSON

analysis. For this reason Rahner situates Heidegger within the
tradition of modem philosophy which according to Rahner is
essentially transcendental philosophy. As Rahner sees it, "a
question is posed on the transcendental plane when it asks for
the a priori conditions that make knowledge of an object
possible," that is to say, when the investigator himself becomes
the object of investigation. (CE,
Since being as such is
not accessible as this or that being, and since it cannot be
obtained in its pure state, the only access which one has to
being is through man who must already possess some knowledge of being to raise the question in the first place. In other
words, Rahner tells us, in order to ask about the a priori
conditions which render possible the knowledge of being, the
investigator must become the object of investigation. (CE,
Rahner notes that it is important to keep in mind that
Heidegger's sole concern is always with the question about
being. The transcendental analytic of man, therefore, aims at
resolving the question about being. It is not in any sense
aimed at establishing an anthropology. The question of man
is always subordinate to the question about being. (CE, 129)
Accordingly, Rahner maintains that we are able to define
Heidegger's philosophy as:
the transcendental investigation of what man is insofar as he raises
the question of being, an investigation that rejects the initial
traditional stance in this matter-exclusively intellectual-and
undertaken with the intention of providing an answer to the
question of being in general. (CE, 131; printed entirely in italics)
Rahner tells us that Heidegger's transcendental investigation of man is an analysis of man as " Dasein." What
does Heidegger mean by this term? According to Rahner,
"Dasein" does not designate simply being-present-there (etrela-present) in the sense in which one could affirm anything
whatever, but rather "Dasein" is being-human itself-each
of us. It is characterized inherently by the transcendence
which orients man towards being, and from which derives the
ability to understand oneself in a definite way, to take an

HAHNER AND HEIDEGGER

461

attitude towards oneself. As a conquence "existence" in
Heidegger's special terminology denotes not the fact that a
being is, but rather it denotes ". . . man, insofar as he is in
some way the object of this free self-disposition." (CE, 131)
The existential analytic of Dasein, therefore, consists in the
determination of the general and formal structures which are
proper to Dasein as a mode of being-human, in other words as
"existence," as a state of "openness" (transcendence) to
being. These structures are called "existentials." SZ is almost
entirely devoted to an explication of these structures. The
analysis displays itself, Rahner maintains, in two stages. The
first consists in a phenomenological description of Dasein as
" being-in-the-world." The second reduces this being-in-theworld to its ultimate sense as "being-in-time." (CE,
Rahner explains that being-in-the-world describes Dasein's
" existence " as Heidegger conceives it. Man is, only insofar as
he is in the world. This being-in-the-world is not a secondary
process by which Dasein as a closed subject in some way
comes into contact with an exterior world. Rather, from the
very start Dasein is already outside of itself in the world and
in the things of the world. Being in the world according to
Rahner, therefore, consists in the a priori possibility of Dasein
to be related to the things of the world and the world itself.
Man is from the very start open to the totality of the world,
and the totality of the world is, albeit under an empty form,
given him right from the outset. (CE, 132)

Rahner explains that this being-in-the-world has a triple
aspect which is described by Heidegger as V erstehen, Geworfenheit, and Verfallenh!eit. The first term refers to Heidegger's
contention that Dasein is not present to itself by a static
knowledge of properties but rather is present to itself by a
This "tension-astretching-ahead-of-self-toward-the-future.
head-of-self-toward-the-future"
is "understanding, man's way
of comprehending and grasping himself, of grasping and restructuring his own power-to-be." (CE, 133) Through this
V erstehen Dasein finds itself always brought into question and

ROBERT MASSON

is thus present to itself. Rahner notes that according to
Heidegger this stretching of Dasein towards its "subjective
possibilities" must always begin from Dasein's past-a past
which has been imposed upon Dasein and of which it has no
hold. This "state-of-being-thrown into this or that condition"
(etat-de-jete-dans-teUes et telles conditions) Heidegger calls
" thrownness " (Geworfenheit) . Furthermore, the tension-ahead-of-self-toward-the-future from the past-into-which-it-hasbeen-thrown necessarily involves Dasein with the things of
the world to such an extent that Dasein becomes prey to them
and enslaved. This enslavement Heidegger calls "Verfallenheit." Being-in-the-world as Verstehn, Geworfenheit, and Verfallenheit is summed up by the term " Care " (in German
" Sorge," in French " Sollicitude ") . (CE, 132-33)
The second stage of the analysis of SZ-the reduction of
Dasein to its ultimate sense-becomes evident, Rahner observes, when, on the one hand, it is noted that the proper and
strict possibility towards which Dasein carries itself is the
certain possibility of its own impossibility, of its death, and
when, on the other hand, it is noted that to the three aspects
of Care correspond the elements of human duration (la
"duree" humaine): future, present, and past. Duration, here,
does not refer to the " time " we calculate, but rather to the
foundation of such time in the temporal structure of Dasein
as: the stretching-ahead-of -self-towards-its-ownmost-possibility or future (sc. death), from its depenedence on a past into
which it has been thrown, realized in the present as a response
to the attraction of the future, and the compulsion and constraint of the past. Rahner concludes, then, that for Heidegger
Dasein as Care and as a being essentially towards death, is
by its very structure temporal. Dasein is intrinsically finite.
(CE, 133-34)
Having outlined the general structure of Heidegger's existential analytic of Desein, Rahner returns to the original
question-what is being as such?-and discovers that SZ never
directly addresses itself to this question, leaving its answer to
a proposed second volume. But although Rahner is unable to

HAHNER AND HEIDEGGER

463

extract the kernel of Heideggerian metaphysics from SZ, he
does attempt to draw from it and from indications in WM
and WG some" conjectures" about Heidegger's answer to the
being question.
proDasein, Rahner observes, is a being-towards-death-a
jection out of past and present towards Dasein's future. This
projection is not a property of Dasein, but rather is the very
act of being-human. The original mode of the projection or
anticipatory grasp is not a theoretical knowledge in terms of
logic, but rather it is an experience or state-of-disposition
(Tallon translates " etat d' ame " as " state of soul ") which
Heidegger defines as "anxiety." This dispositional state reveals
"nothingness" (neant) as the ultimate "virtuality" of Dasein,
and as that in which Dasein is already engaged. Dasein's
transcendence, his passing beyond beings, is a passing to nothingness. Rahner maintains, therefore, that Heidegger appears
to identify pure being and pure nothingness. Consequently,
all beings as participants in nothingness are necessarily finite.
Rahner observes that this view does not seem to allow even the
possibility of raising a question about the existence of God.
As far as Rahner can tell, Heidegger's ontology offers no
support for a pure Being positively superior as such to all
finitude. (CE, 134-35)
Although it seems like Heidegger's thought allows no room
for the idea of God, Rahner notes that Heidegger, himself,
denies that his analysis says anything either for or against the
possibility of God. Thus Rahner maintains it is impossible until
the completion of his ontology to tell for sure if it will give
to metaphysics " a meaning that is either the most radically
atheist or the most profoundly religious." (CE, 137) All we
can do, Rahner insists, is note that up till now the existential
analytic of Dasein logically seems to be not an ontology but
an Ontochronic (an expression Rahner attributes to Heidegger
himself) -" a science which showing that the meaning of all
being as such, and, absolutely, the meaning of Being, is nothingness." (CE, 136)
Rahner does not attempt to analyze Heidegger's thought

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ROBERT MASSON

from the point of view of Christianity, but he does explain a
little more fully what he means when he suggests that the
ultimate resolution of Heidegger's philosophy will be either
most radically atheistic or most profoundly religious. Heidegger's eventual ontology will lay the foundation for atheism if,
as Rahner seems to think it is to be feared, the last word of its
anthropology is nothingness, for then the last word of the
ontology still to come must also be nothingness. On the other
hand, Rahner claims that Heidegger's philosophy could lay the
groundwork for a profoundly religious view if the analysis of
Dasein in its ultimate stage discovers the infinity of the
absolute as the first a priori of human transcendence, and if it
discovers the true destiny of man in the choice between eternal
nothingness and eternal life before God. In this case Heidegger's analysis of man as an historical being, as an essentially
" finite creature," and as a temporal being renders possible an
attentiveness to Revelation.
In this case, to jar man loose from the pure idea and cast him into
his own existence and history, as Heidegger is doing, would be to
prepare him, to make him attentive to the fact-existential, historical-of a divine revelation, would be to open him to "the God
of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob," to the "Word of Life, seen, heard,
touched" by human hands, "Jesus of Nazareth .... " (CE, 137)
This description is striking because it serves as a nearly perfect
introduction to and crystalization of the philosophy of religion
developed in Hearers of the Word. 1
Rahner's aim in Hearers of the Word is to lay the foundation
for a philosophy of religion faithful to the principles of the
Thomistic tradition yet unique in that it raises a question
never explicitly posed by St. Thomas. (cf. HW, 33) He
suggests that the nature of this philosophy of religion could be
most clearly defined by comparing it with theology. It is
necessary, therefore, to ask the question about the relationship
7 This similarity of Rahner's
philosophy of religion and his projection of the
possible developments of Heidegger's philosophy of Being suggest the value of
following the argument of HW in this preliminary delimitation of the essential
difference between their philosophies.

RAHNER AND HEIDEGGER

465

o£ these two sciences. The question o£ the relationship between
sciences, however, is ultimately a question about their common
foundation, and that science which serves as foundation £or all
other sciences and grants them their a priori attitudes and
principles-whether or not these principles are self-consciousis called metaphysics. The question o£ the relationship between
the philosophy o£ religion and theology is consequently a metaphysical question. Science of any kind, however, is a human
activity. Thus, the question of the relationship between the
philosophy of religion and theology is ultimately a metaphysical
question about the nature of man. It is what, in the previous
article, Rahner called a transcendental question. (HW, 3-7)
If the question presented so far is probed deeper, Rahner
maintains that a series difficulty will be discovered. "For
classical Christian philosophy of religion . . . knowledge of
God ... is no static, self-contained science, but a profound
element o£ ontology in general." (HW, 7) But if this is true,
then the philosophy of religion as ontology (or the metaphysics
o£ being) is the same as the science in which it finds its ground.
The question o£ the philosophy of religion is thus a question
about the "self-establishment
of metaphysics." Ultimately,
therefore, " the question about the philosophy of religion becomes the question as to why man pursues metaphysics and
being, and how human metaphysics can reach up to God."
(HW, 8)
If this philosophy of religion is to be truly a " philosophy "
and not a" theology" there can be no question of its justifying
or explicating a revelation from God. On the other hand, if
theology is to be truly "theology" and not "philosophy,"
then the philosophy of religion cannot a priori reduce revelation
to merely what is discovered by reason. To establish itself the
philosophy of religion must ask if there is any " reason " to
suppose that man is a potential hearer of a divine revelation.
The asking o£ such a question is a purely philosophical venture,
but as such it lays the foundation for theology-the actual
hearing o£ the revealed word-by pointing out to man whether
or not he should seek such a revealed word in history. Rahner

466

ROBERT MASSON

proposes that, in fact, it can be shown that man by his very
nature is a potential hearer of a possible revelation from God
in history. (HW, 7-27)
Rahner describes the method which he chooses to achieve
this end in terms very similar to those with which he described
Heidegger's existential analytic of Dasein. Rahner proposes:
to sketch the outlines of a metaphysical analytic of man with
reference to the capacity to hear the word of God which is addressed
to man as the revelation of the unknown God allowing the history
of man to appear. To put a question metaphysically, however, is
to put a question about being. (HW, 32)

Rahner's pursuit of this question about the being of man
establishes the three propositions of metaphysical anthropology
that constitute the essence of his philosophy of religion: 1)
that "man is a spirit (a characterization which stamps his
whole being as man) and thus has an ear that is open to any
word whatsoever that may proceed from the mouth of the
Eternal" (HW, 67); 2) "that man is that existent thing who
stands in free love before the God of a possible revelation ...
(and who) is attentive to the speech or silence of God in the
measure in which he opens himself in free love to this message
of the speech or silence of the God of revelation" (HW, 108);
and 3) that " man is that existent thing who must listen for an
historical revelation of God, given in history and possibly in
human speech." (HW, 161)
These three propositions and the philosophy of religion
which they constitute are based on Rahner's notion of being as
that which is revealed to man through a preconceptual, nonthematic grasp, but which at the same time is hidden from
man because of his finitude. It is at this level where the
essential difference between Rahner and Heidegger emerges, so
this is where the present essay will find its focus.

*

*

*

Rahner begins his analytic for the being of man in a manner
that appears to be similar to Heidegger's posing of the ques-

RAHNER AND HEIDEGGER

467

tion about being. Metaphysics asks about the being of tha.t
which is. It " enquires into the ultimate reasons, into the
final cause of reality .... " (HW, 33) This questioning is
unavoidable. "We are compelled to ask: What is the' being'
of that which is?" (HW, 34); and it is precisely as men that
we are compelled to do so. Rahner develops this notion more
fully in Spirit in the W orld. 8 There he observes that man
questions, and that this questioning is irreducible because every
question presupposes a placing in question. Rahner maintains
that man necessarily questions because being in its totality is
given to him only as something questionable. For Rahner the
ontological implication of the fact that man necessarily questions is the conclusion that man exists as the question about
being in its totality. Thus, the question about being as posed
by man is the point of departure for metaphysics.
Since nothing can be asked about the totally unknown,
Rahner observes that the fact that man poses the question
about being attests to an a priori grasp of being in general.
Thus Rahner believes that he is able to deduce from man's
existence, as " the question about existence," the familiar
Thomistic teaching that "human thinking is always accompanied by an unexpressed knowledge of being [esse] as the
condition of all knowledge of the existing individual." (HW,
36)

Rahner proceeds further to note that being can obviously
be questioned only insofar as it is known. From this Rahner
deduces the Thomistic position that knowability is the most
fundamental note of being. "A thing which is, and the possible
object of a cognition, are one and the same, for the being of that
which is, is knowability." (HW, 38-39) This implies, Rahner
argues, the Thomistic position that "being is knowing and
being known in their original unity." (HW, 44) The sense of
knowing here is not that of reaching from something inside to
something outside but is rather conceived as a presence-to-self.
"Cf. Karl Rahner, Spirit in the World, trans. William Dych (New York, 1968),
pp. 57-78. Hereafter SW.

468

ROBERT

MASSON

For Rahner, therefore, "the essence of being is the beingpresent-to-itself of being or the luminosity of being to itself as
"subjectivity." (HW, 37-44)
Rahner argues, furthermore, that although man can deduce
the unity of being and knowing from the fact of his existence
as the question about being, the questionability of being as
such-that is to say, the fact that man has to raise the question,
the fact that he is not absolute self-presence-rules out any
form of pantheism or "debased idealism." Man "has being,"
but is not pure absolute being itself. Man is finite. From this
fact Rahner argues to the Thomistic notion that being is
" analogous." By this term Rahner means to suggest that the
"attribution of being itself is an interiorly variable quantity."
(HW, 47) In other words, the degree of self-presence or selfluminosity varies from being to being. A finite being is, therefore, only to the degree that it "has being," only to the degree
that it has a potentiality for self presence. (HW, 45-52)
But what is this being as such which Rahner conceives as
self-luminosity and as analogically attributable to all beings?
Furthermore, what is man's relation to being? Rahner suggests
that the answers to these question can be discovered by an
analysis of the act of judgment. In every judgment a predicate
is affirmed of a subject. Furthermore, insofar as the judgment
is true, it is itself affirmed of something that is in itself
independent of the passing of judgment. By this process man
establishes the object of his judgment as something different
from and independent of his judgment, and therefore as different from and independent of himself. In this way man constitutes himself as a subject opposed to an object. As subject
he is able to return to himself by turning out towards (that is
to say, by objectifying) the objects with which he is initially
one. It is only through this process that man is able to
comprehend himself as a subject who subsists-in-himself and
who is free (i.e., of that which stands against him) .
Now the question which Rahner poses is this: what is "the
ultimate cause of the possibility of man, in his subsisting-inhimself, taking a position distinct from the things he handles

RAHNER AND HEIDEGGER

469

in conscious thought-judgment"? (HW, 56) He argues that in
essence this question is only another side of a more familiar
problem in Scholastic philosophy. In every judgment a thing is
affirmed as a " this " or a " that." This is also true of human
activity considered more generally. Man always deals with
this particular thing or that. The ability to take hold of this
or that particular thing presupposes the ability to comprehend
it under a general concept, that is to say, the ability to elevate
the perceptions of the senses to the level of the concept. This is
what in Thomistic epistemology is called " abstraction." To ask
about the condition of possibility of human subsisting-in-self,
therefore, is to ask about the possibility of abstraction. (HW,
53-57)
Rahner describes absraction as the ability to " loosen away
from " or to detach the " thisness " (in Scholastic terminology
the form or quiddity) from any example of a particular
" this." " Abstraction is thus the recognition of the nonrestriction of the ' thisness ' that is given in the particular
sense." (HW, 58) Now in order to elevate the sense impression
of a particular "this" to a recognition of a non-restricted
"this," the intellect must grasp the particular as "limited."
But to recognize this "limit," it must already have grasped it
in reference to a " something more." This " something more "
is what Rahner means by " being in general." The grasping
in terms of this more is what he means by the preconcept
(V orgrifj).
In each particular cognition it [the intellect] always reaches out
beyond the particular object, and thus grasps it, not just as its
unrelated, dead "thisness," but in its limitation and reference to
the totality of all possible objects. . . . The pre-concept is the
condition for the possibility of the universal concept, of the
abstraction which in turn is what makes possible the objectification
of the datum of sense perception and so of conscious subsistingin-oneself. (HW, 59)

Rahner argues that the object of this V orgrifj cannot be an
object like those which are made known through the V orgrifj
itself. Thus it would appear that to an extent Rahner's position

470

ROBERT

MASSON

is similar to Heidegger's who, as was shown, holds that
" Being " is not like beings. It is in the further elaboration of
this a priori grasp that Rahner seems to consciously distinguish
his position from Heidegger's. As was seen previously, Rahner
believed that Heidegger's Dasein as a transcendence to being
is essentially a transcendence to nothingness. This alleged
notion, as it was elaborated in WM, was based on the argument
that negation can only be grounded in a prior comprehension
of" nothingness." Here Rahner argues that just the opposite is
the case-that the notion of negation is derived through man's
Vorgriff of an absolute "having being" and that the concept
of non-being is derived from the notion of negation. 9 Why?
Rahner argues that human cognition is related to that
which is, and not what is-not-at least insofar as all knowledge
begins in sense perception. He maintains that, if the knowledge
of the limitation of the objects of knowledge can be explained
in terms of a Vorgriff of being as positive, there is no need to
posit a transcendence to nothingness. But, Rahner continues,
it has already been shown that beings are to the extent that
they "have being." They are grasped not in terms of nothing
but in terms of a V orgriff of the perfection of pure "having
being." Rahner maintains that this can be deduced from the
fact of the question of being, from the judgment, and from the
freedom of human activity. "To the extent that judgment
and free action are necessarily part of man's existence, the
pre-concept of being pure and simple in its own intrinsically
proper infinitude is part of the fundamental constitution of
human existence." (HW, 63) Since Rahner has already ruled
out the possibility of pantheism, that being which has being
absolutely must be God himself. Thus Rahner claims that:
God is posited, too, with the same necessity as this pre-concept.
He is the thing of which is affirmed absolute "having existence."
I do not mean to suggest that the arguments we considered in Hearers of the
Rahner appears
to be speaking much more generally. But it also seems that Heidegger's position,
as Rahner understands it, is among those which he believes his arguments refute.
0

Word were intended as a direct answer to Heidegger's analysis.

HAHNER AND HEIDEGGER

471

It is true that the pre-concept does not present any object at all
along with itself. But in this pre-concept (as the necessary and
ever already actualized condition for every human cognition and
every human action) the existence of an existent thing of absolute
"having being" (that is, of God) has already been affirmed if not
presented. In the pre-concept the cause of his specific possibility is
unknowningly affirmed. (HW, 63-64)

Thus Rahner claims that from the very movement of the
human intellect we are able to establish the existence of God.
Granting this, it is not difficult to see why Rahner rejects
any metaphysics which claims that negation must be grounded
in a transcendence towards nothingness. Because of the
V orgrijj of absolute being, the subject is able to perceive finite
beings as limited. Negation is thus derived from the comprehension of a " less " or " limit " in terms of a " more " or " full,"
The concept of non-being is thus also derived from the Vorgriff
of esse absolutum.
Non-being does not precede negation, but the pre-concept relative
to the unlimited is in itself already the negation of the finite, to
the extent that, as condition for the possibility of its cognition, and
through its rising above the finite, it reveals, eo ipso, its finitude.
The affirmation of the thing that is in itself unlimited is therefore
the possibility for negation, and not the other way around. Thus
we are not required to assume a transcendence relation to nonbeing, which, preceding all negation and providing its foundation,
would have to disclose the finitude of an existent thing for the first
time. Positive unlimitation of the transcendental horizon of human
knowledge automatically displays the finitude of all that does not
fill up this horizon. (HW, 62)

These analyses lead Rahner to the conclusion that man by
nature is a spirit who is able to affirm the existence of God, and
furthermore, because of the analogy of being, he has the
potentiality for a more extensive knowledge of God. " Man is
the absolute receptivity for being pure and simple." It is not
possible to pursue Rahner's existential analysis further. In the
discussion which follows, he argues that although being is
luminous, man's grasp of it is necessarily limited because of his
own finitude. He argues, furthermore, that God as absolute

ROBERT

MASSON

being must be conceived as a free spirit who could reveal more
about himself to man if it was his divine will to do so. Because
of the very nature of man's receptivity as a composite of body
and spirit, the place of such a free revelation would have to be
human history and the mode would have to be the sensible
word (understood in its broadest meaning as either word or
act) . Man, therefore, has a potentiality for "hearing" such
an historical word if God speaks. Furthermore, the philosophy
of religion can show man his need to look for such a word in
history.
Perhaps at this point it would be helpful to summarize.
Rahner maintains that Heidegger is essentially a metaphysician
concerned with establishing a new, more fundamental ontology
through a transcendental analysis of man as the one who
necessarily poses the question about being. As far as Rahner
can tell, however, Heidegger's analysis seems to lead to
the conclusion that man transcends towards nothingness. In
Hearers of the Word Rahner is also concerned with carrying
out an existential analytic of man as the one who necessarily
poses the question about being. Like Heidegger he appears to
maintain that man is able to raise the question about being
because man already has a comprehension of being as such.
Like Heidegger he appears to maintain that the being of which
man has a pre-comprehension is distinct from all other beings.
But unlike Heidegger (as Rahner understands him) , he maintains that the ultimate sense of being is not nothingness but
rather God, grasped in the movement of all human affirmation,
whether in act or deed, towards pure and absolute "havingbeing." As such, God constitutes not only the object of human
activity, but also more significantly, the condition of its
possibility. As a composite of body and spirit man possesses
the potentiality to receive a further revelation from God if one
is given. Man is thus a potential " hearer " of a divine word.

*

*

*

Rahner's evaluation of Heidegger's ontology in the article
discussed and his implicit refutation of Heidegger's alleged

HAHNER AND HEIDEGGER

473

"nihilism" in Hearers of the Word presupposes that Heidegger,
like Rahner, is asking about "being as such, under its most
general and total aspect." It presupposes that "by most
general is meant, ultimately the simple fact of being, esse,
characteristic of every ens,'' and that " by most total is meant
esse again as the unifying aspect under which every possible
object can be grasped, summed up, and related to its ultimate
and unique explanation."
(CF, 128) Rahner, therefore, is
asking about" beings as beings" or" being as being" (ens qua
ens) , just as Aristotle and St. Thomas. The difference is that
he founds his metaphysics on a transcendental analysis. What
is more significant to our discussion is that he presupposes
that Heidegger's problematic is, and must be, the same. As
Heidegger's thought has developed, however, it has become
increasingly clear that his understanding has emerged out of
what he believes is a very different question.
In the" Introduction" to WM (written in 1949), Heidegger
notes that the science which traditionally has been called
metaphysics has always asked about being as beings, or about
being (the totality of beings) as being. The asking of this
question, as Rahner noted, has led according to Heidegger's
analysis to two distinct pursuits. The one seeks to understand, that is to say, to represent, that which is common to
all beings-their beingness, or in Thomistic terminology esse.
This study is called "ontology." The other seeks to understand the beingness of being in terms of their cause or sufficient
reason-which for Rahner is esse absolutum (God) -and it is
called "theology." 10 Both questions ask about beings, or in
terms which Heidegger would insist are misleading, about finite
being. Heidegger argues that he is asking a very different
question. He is not asking about being but about Being itself
as distinct from beings. Thus it will be maintained here that
Heidegger's question about Being (it will be helpful to use a
capital" B "to designate Heidegger's "Sein ") is different from
Rahner's question about being.
10 Here " theology " refers to a branch
of metaphysics, not to the Church's
explication of Revelation.

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MASSON

In An Introduction to Metaphysics Heidegger attempts to
introduce the question of Being as he understands it. He maintains there that because metaphysics, in the ordinary sense of
the term, is concerned only with questioning beings as beings
(ta physika), it can be called a "physics." If philosophic
thought is to have a solid foundation, however, it is necessary
to go beyond questions about being to the question about Being
itself (meta ta physica) . As he saw it in 1935, "even in the
doctrines of being as pure act (Thomas Aquinas), as absolute
concept (Hegel), as eternal recurrence of the identical will
to power (Nietzsche) , metaphysics has remained unalterably
'physics.'" (EM, 14) Heidegger believes that the question of
Being which he asks is not at all the same as the question
which metaphysicians through the ages have asked.
Although this position is more obvious in these later works,
it has been the direction of his thought from the very beginning.
As his problematic has developed it has become clear that it is
not a question of Heidegger giving up metaphysics or gradually
disengaging himself from the metaphysical understanding of
being. Rather, it is a question of a difference, there from the
beginning, between his problematic and that of the tradition,
gradually becoming more explicit. 11 It is at the level of the
very question asked where the difference begins to emerge
between Rahner's question about esse and Heidegger's question
about Being itself.
It is just this difference, however, which is overlooked if the
existential analytic of Dasein proposed in SZ is interpreted,
as Rahner interprets it, as an attempt like those of Kant,
Descartes, or any modern metaphysician to put metaphysics
on a new foundation. It is true, of course, that in the introduction to SZ Heidegger describes his task as the establishing
of a " fundamental ontology" through the "existential analytic
of Dasein." (SZ, 13) 12 He also suggests, however, that " funda11 The analysis here does not wish to deny that there has been a " tum " in
Heidegger's thought; but the fact that there has been a "tum " does not mean
that his problem has essentially changed. The fundamental question remains the
same even though the questions asked have changed.
12 Italics here and in all following quotes are Heidegger's unless otherwise stated.

RAHNER AND HEIDEGGER

475

mental ontology " is fundamental not because, as Rahner
suggests, it bases the knowledge of being on a new foundation
or because it asks the question about beings in a new way
but because it asks a question which is more original than any
such question about beings. The aim of SZ is not to lay the
basis for an answer to the question about being, nor to ask the
same question in a new way, but rather " ... to work out the
question of Being ... " itself. (SZ, I) Thus, when he says
further that " our provisional aim is the interpretation of
time as the possible horizon for any understanding whatsoever
of Being," (SZ, I) this should be understood to suggest not only
that " time " will help to answer the question of Being but
primarily and more significantly that time will indicate the
very sense of the question itself. It is easy to assume that
Heidegger is only polemicizing against Neo-Kantains when he
says that it is necessary " to raise anew the question of the
meaning of Being." (SZ, I) It becomes clear as he progresses,
however, that he is speaking to the whole metaphysical
tradition.
What are the indications of this thesis in SZ-the principal
work that Rahner considered in his essay? In the first place,
Heidegger speaks of the need for a " destruction of ontology "
and the "history of ontology." (SZ, I9-27) He explains that
the need for destruction " is essentially bound up with the way
the question of Being is formulated .... " (SZ, 23) Is it to be
supposed that Heidegger intends a complete denial of the
philosophic past? No, for he insists that the aim of the destruction is positive, as well as negative, and that it can achieve
this aim only if it starts within the history of thought. But
how begin from a destruction? What is the aim of the destruction? He seems to hint-and seen from the perspective of
Heidegger's later works it is a hint difficult to miss-that
fundamental ontology will begin from a rediscovery of an
original beginning though a destruction of what has followed
from it .
. . . taking the question of Being as our clue, we are to destroy
the traditional content of ancient ontology until we arrive at

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ROBERT

MASSON

those primordial experiences in which we achieved our first ways
of determining the nature of Being-the ways which have guided
us ever since. (SZ, 22)
In the pages which follow Heidegger states that this forgottenness of Being applies alike to the Greeks, the Scholastics,
Decartes, Kant, and Hegel. Now Rahner had maintained that
Heidegger wanted to go beyond the traditional starting point
of Metaphysics because he sought a foundation for ontology
which did not conceive " being " beforehand in terms of logic.
This is true, but only half true. Heidegger is seeking not merely
a new foundation but is seeking a new foundation in the asking
of a new question. It is because a new question is asked that
his ontology is more fundamental.
But how precisely is the question of Being as Heidegger
understands it different from the metaphysician's notion of
being? What is the meaning of the word "Being" in the
phrase" the question of Being"? The problem which the metaphysician confronts with SZ, as Rahner noted, is that Heidegger never gets to the task of defining the sense of Being-at
least from a metaphysical point of view. What then can be
discerned about the question of Being from the SZ analysis?
For one thing, it has already been noted that to ask for a
metaphysical definition, or even the grounds for one, from SZ
is apparently contrary to Heidegger's intention. It seems that
what ought to be sought is Heidegger's understanding of how
the question should be asked. How? He maintains that the
clue to how will be discovered, as Rahner observed, by examining Dasein, the place where the question is asked, and seeing
in this examination that " time " is the ultimate transcendental
horizon for the question of Being. The existential analytic of
Dasein could, then, be called " transcendental " but not in the
sense that Rahner gives to the term. In seeking an understanding of Dasein's comprehension of Being Heidegger is proposing
to lay the basis for a question which he maintains that Kant
never posed. Heidegger wants it to be understood that the
question which guides him has been ignored and forgotten in
metaphysics and ontology. The term of that question-Being

RAHNER AND HEIDEGGER

471

-should not be understood in terms o£ the history o£ philosophy and so not as a " transcendental philosophy " in the
traditional sense. Rahner's contention that Heidegger is essentially a transcendental philosopher is thus very misleading i£
not altogether incorrect.
What, then, does Heidegger reveal about the term o£ his
inquiry in SZ? First, he tells us that Being is "that which
determines beings as beings, that on the basis o£ which beings
are already understood .... " (SZ, 6) Although-or perhaps
because-Being is that which determines beings and is common
to them all, Heidegger insists that Being is not a being or in
any way like beings.
The Being of beings "is" not itself a being. If we are to undersand the problem of Being, our first philosophic step consists in not
p:u86v nva
in not "telling a story "-that is to say, in not
defining beings as beings by tracing them back in their origin to
some other beings, as if Being had the character of some possible
being. (SZ, 6)

Heidegger makes the same point when he says:
Being as the basic theme of philosophy is no class or genus of
beings, yet it pertains to every being. Its " universality" is to be
sought higher up. Being and the structure of Being lie beyond
every being and every
character which a being may
possess. Being is the transcendens pure and simple. (SZ, 38)

This transcending, however, is not an abstraction, nor does
Heidegger propose to seek it through abstraction. Rather, he
intends to " work out the question o£ the meaning o£ Being and
to do so concretely." (SZ, I)
A further indication o£ what Heidegger intends to interrogate
in the question about Being can be found in his analysis o£
the word " phenomenology." The term originates £rom two
Heidegger maintains that
Greek words: cf>avvofLEvov and
cf>avvOfLEVov signifies that which shows itself in itself or manifests
itself as itself. "Accordingly the c/>atvofLEVa or 'phenomena'
are the totality o£ what lies in the light o£ day or can be brought
to light-what the Greeks sometimes identified simply with
Ttl. oVTa
(beings)." (SZ, 28) For Heidegger, however, this

478

ROBERT MASSON

"showing-itself-in-itself, signifies a distinctive way in which
something can be encountered." (SZ, 31) Heidegger maintains
that the real meaning of the second term, A.Oyos-, has been
covered up by later interpretations of it as reason, judgment,
concept, definition, ground or relationship. He argues that
the word originally meant to make manifest what one is talking
about. It is a " letting something be seen." Phenomenology
thus means to let be manifest or un-hidden that which manifests itself. What then does phenomenology let be seen?
Heidegger argues that:
Manifestly, it is something that proximally and for the most part
does not show itself at all: it is something that lies hidden, in
contrast to that which proximally and for the most part does show
itself; but at the same time it is something that belongs to it so
essentially as to constitute its meaning and its ground. (SZ, 35)

What can this something be? Heidegger argues that it is
Being.
Yet that which remains hidden in an egregious sense, or which
relapses and gets covered up again, or which shows itself only
"in disguise," is not just this or that, but rather the Being of
beings, as our previous observations have shown. This Being can
be cove.red up so extensively that it becomes forgotten and no
questions arise about it or about its meaning. (SZ, 60)

This analysis of the meaning of " phenomenology " is not
meant merely as a digression into the nature of Heidegger's
methodology. Rather it intends to reveal a basic characteristic of Heidegger's understanding of Being which gets developed already in his conception of phenomenology as the only
adequate way to do fundamental ontology. That which shows
itself is the Being of beings. Being as a "showing-itself is not
just any showing itself." It is not just something like appearing.
Being is the foundation of any kind of appearing at all. It
underlies all beings. Behind this showing-itself (Being), there
is nothing else. Yet it is the character of this showing-itself,
that it can be hidden and forgotten while one gazes on the
beings it lets be manifest. (SZ, 36-37)
Heidegger is thus seeking the meaning of the Being of beings.

RAHNER AND HEIDEGGER

479

Although Being appears to be correlative with the beings which
it manifests., it is also distinct from them. It is not in any
sense a being, or like beings. For this reason one cannot speak
about Being in any way like one would speak about beings.
Nor can Being be thought of as proceeding from a being. It is
a " pure transcending " which is beyond beings. But note,
Heidegger does not say Being is a transcendent (noun), for
example, a transcendent Being. He rejects as missing the
issue any question which like the one posed by Rahner seeks to
trace beings to a cause (i.e., God). This is why Heidegger
insists that his thought does not speak either for or against the
existence of God. From the perspective of his question the
problem of God does not arise. Since Rahner, however does
not note the difference between his question (the metaphysical
question) and Heidegger's, he is not able to see how Heidegger
can claim that the analysis has not prejudged the God issue.
Heidegger, however, is not seeking to determine the source of
beings, but the meaning of Being itself. Being is that manifesting by which beings are " present " to Dasein. Although Being
manifests itself in its manifesting of beings, in the coming-topresence of beings, it remains itself concealed. It remains itself
a manifesting, not a manifested. Being needs therefore, to be
brought from concealment to non-concealment. The analysis
of Dasein as the place where Being is revealed, and also forgotten, shows that this comprehension takes place through the
temporal structure of Dasein and thus suggests that " time "
is the clue or horizon through which the meaning of Being can
be questioned. SZ has not thought Being, however, merely by
giving this clue or discovering this horizon. Heidegger concludes his analysis insisting that " the dispute in regard to the
interpretation of Being cannot be straightened out, because it
has not even been begun." (SZ, 437)
It can be surmised from this that Heidegger would argue that
the trouble with Rahner's evaluation of SZ is that it has not
even recognized the question. It completely misses the point.
Rahner's principle criticism of Heidegger, however, is not
based on the analyses of SZ so much as on the arguments of

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ROBERT

MASSON ·

WM. According to Rahner the conclusion of these arguments
seems to be that the ultimate sense of being is " nothingness."
This criticism again misses the real issue. It is true that in WM
Heidegger proposes to understand Being in terms of the:
problem of" Nothing" (Nichts). Heidegger's use of this term,
however, is carefully nuanced and should not be equated with
some sort of metaphysical " nothingness."
WM was originally written as a lecture for an audience composed mostly of scientists. It proposed to introduce a question
which the sciences as such do not consider, namely, the
metaphysical question. It must be noted from the start, however, that Heidegger is defining metaphysics as he conceives it,
not as it has been conceived historically.
Heidegger maintains that the sciences consider that which-is
and nothing more. He claims that the " and nothing more "
is intrinsic to the sciences' conception of their subject matter.
But how conceive this Nothing without representing it as some
thing? The question, "What is Nothing?" seems to demand
the illogical reply that, "Nothing is this or that thing," when
it is known perfectly well that Nothing is not any thing. To
avoid this" logical" problem Heidegger suggest an examination
of the off-the-cuff definition of Nothing as the negation of the
totality-of-what-is. This could perhaps be reasonably maintained if the totality-of-what-is could be known or conceived in
itself, but it cannot. Thus another impass has been reached. It
is not an inescapable impass. Even though the whole of whatis in its totality is not accessible in itself, " it is equally
certain that we find ourselves placed in the midst of what-is and
that this is somehow revealed in totality." (WM,333) How
is it revealed? Recalling the analysis of SZ, Heidegger maintains that the totality is grasped on the level of " disposition,"
and that this grasp is revealed in moods such as boredom or
the joy felt in the presence of a loved one. This dispositional
awareness constitutes an essential mode of Dasein's being-inthe-world. As Rahner noted, it is not just a matter of feeling
but the ground for the possibility of any knowledge of beings.
Unfortunately this awareness of the totality-of-what-is still does

RAHNER AND HEIDEGGER

481

not tell anything about Nothing, for it is a revelation of and
absorption in the totality-of-what-is.
It appears to exclude any
revelation of the opposite, that which absolutely is not, namely,
Nothing. Heidegger maintains, however, that there are moods,
although perhaps rare, which reveal Nothing itself. Such is
the mood of profound dread (Angst). Heidegger's description
of this mood is classic.
In dread, as we say, "one feels something uncanny." ·what is this
"something"
(es) and this "one"? We are unable to say
what gives " one " the, uncanny feeling. One just feels it generally
(im Ganzen). All things and we with them, sink into a sort of
indifference. But not in the sense that everything simply disappears; rather, in the very act of drawing away from us everything turns towards us. This withdrawal of what-is-in-totality,
which the,n crowds round us in dread, this is what oppresses us.
There is nothing to hold on to. The only thing that remains and
overwhelms us whilst what-is slips away, is this "nothing."
Dread reveals Nothing .
. . . Dread hold us in suspense because it makes what-is-intotality slip away from us. (WM, 336)
The experience of dread witnesses, then, what Heidegger describes most evocatively as the failure of all " ' Is '-saying
(' Ist'-Sagen) ." (WM, 336)
Heidegger concludes from this analysis that negation does
not precede or ground the grasp of Nothing, but on the contrary, the grasp of Nothing precedes and grounds negation.
Nothing is revealed but not as any thing, and not as the
negation of any or even all things. This grasp of Nothing is
not just an interesting but irrelevant fact. Science, our knowledge of what-is, knows what-is only in distinction from what-isnot (i.e., Non-being or No-thing). Similarly, SZ and KM
argued that knowledge of beings (what-is) is possible only because Dasein can pass beyond that which-is. What is the term
of this passing beyond? It is not any thing, not what-is-intotality, but rather Nothing-that is to say, no thing. Nothing
turns out to be one with Being as such. It is to Being as not
any thing that Dasein transcends, and it is Being as Nothing
which makes the revelation of what-is possible.

ROBERT

MASSON

Nothing is neither an object nor anything that" is" at all. Nothing
occurs neithe.r by itself nor "apart from" what-is, as a sort of
adjunct. Nothing is that which makes the revelation of what-is
as such possible for our human existence. (WM, 340)

Here is the essential difference between Rahner's notion of
Being and Heidegger's. Rahner maintains that the subject can
know beings only because it sees them within the horizon of
a " more." This seeing within the horizon of a more is possible
because the subject already grasps (though non-thematically)
absolute being in the direction of all human thought and
activity. He claims, therefore, that negation and the concept
of non-being are derived from this grasp of the limited as
limited (i.e., partially negated) in terms of absolute being.
What is most important is that he claims that these observations constitute the basis for a proof of God's existence.
Heidegger, on the other hand, does not maintain as Rahner
suggests that Dasein transcends toward nothingness. Rather,
he argues that Dasein transcends (the term is misleading) to
Being as no thing. Heidegger claims that a metaphysical
analysis such as Rahner's leaves unasked the question about
the meaning of Being as different from beings and as that
" different " which makes the revelation of beings possible.
Rahner had argued that the knowledge of beings demands as
its condition of possibility a V orgriff of an absolute being.
Heidegger maintains to the contrary, not that knowledge of
beings must be explained by nothingness but that it can be
explained sufficiently only by the recognition that Dasein
grasps Being as different from beings. In the later works
Heidegger comes to the realization (the famous "tum") that
it is not just that Dasein grasps Being as different from beings
but rather that Dasein itself is grasped-grasped
in the
" event " of the ontological difference. Still it is the ontological
difference which opens up the world of beings and Being to
Dasein.
Rahner uses the term "ontological difference" in Hearers
of the Word, and in The Thomist Spectrum Helen John claims

HAHNER AND HEIDEGGER

483

that Rahner is aware of the ontological difference. 13 It appears
from what has been seen here, however, that in a metaphysical
context that term must have a very different meaning than
Heidegger gives it. Heidegger would argue that to think the
meaning of this difference in terms of being-even in terms of
a supreme absolute having-being-is an extrapolation which
has avoided the real question that needs asking. Such thinking
represents Being as a being instead of probing the meaning of
Being as such. It assumes an answer to the question which
Heidegger wants to pose. WM, therefore, does not propose
that man transcends toward nothingness. Rather it suggests
that before we ask about the possibility of Dasein transcending
to something, we ought first to ask what is Being as such, as
different from beings. The reflection on Non-being or Nothing
was intended, like the analysis of Dasein in SZ, to serve as an
introduction to the question about Being as Heidegger understands it. How, then, phrase the ground question of metaphsics? Heidegger suggests the formula: "Why is there any
being at all-why not far rather nothing? " (WM, 345)
The implications of this formula are developed in An
Introducticm to Metaphysics. It should be clear by now that
for Heidegger the phrase "rather than nothing" is not a mere
explication of the question, "Why are there beings?" Rather,
it indicates that the question asked is not a question about
beings. It is a question about Being as such, for it " remains
unclear what is to be thought under the name' Being.'" (EM,
26) Heidegger claims that " here we are asking about something which we barely grasp, which is scarcely more than the
sound of a word for us .... " (EM, 27) Intrinsic, then, to the
question "Why are there beings rather than nothing?" is the
question "How does it stand with Being? " It is "indispensable that we make it clear from the very outset how it
stands at present with Being and with our understanding of
Being." (EM, 27) In asking this question Heidegger does not
propose to define Being, for, as he insisted even in SZ, Being
18

Helen James John, The Thomist Spectrum (New York, 1966), p. 168.

484

ROBERT

MASSON

is not a thing and therefore cannot be defined. Rather, he
claims that the question "How does it stand with Being?"
seeks to rediscover for its own what the word "Being" says.
It does not seek meaning in a statement but in a question and
in a questioning attitude, through which Heidegger hopes to
recapture or retrieve the beginning of our "historical-spiritual
existence." (EM, 32) Heidegger insists again that "fundamental ontology " in SZ did not designate a branch of philosophy which deals only with a doctrine about beings (i.e.,
their cause and nature) but rather signified "the endeavor to
make Being manifest itself, and to do so by the question ' how
does it stand with Being?' (and not with beings as such)."
(EM, 34) Heidegger maintains that the very asking of this
question is the only way to experience the sense of Being. In
asking it Being is manifested even though in a way which is
at once both totally indeterminate and highly determinate.
(cf. EM, 60) The question of Being, therefore, does not seek
something which we know, or can know-except by questionmg.
The true problem is what we do not know and what, insofar as
we know it authentically, namely as a problem, we know only
questioningly.
To know how to que,stion means to know how to wait, even a
whole lifetime. But an age which regards only what goes fast and
can be clutched with both hands looks on questioning as " remote
from reality" and as something that does not pay, whose benefits
cannot be numbere,d. But the essential is not number. . . .

(EM, 172)

This last statement perhaps raises more questions than it
answers. How does one know Being questioningly? How does
one think Being as such, that is to say, as different from beings?
It is just this question that focuses Heidegger's reflection in
his later work, and it is in reference to this question that the
sense of " hearing " or " attending " is developed. A thorough
and adequate examination of this problem would demand more
attention than it is possible to give it here, but some idea of
what sense "hearing" can have in regard to Heidegger's

RAHNER AND HEIDEGGER

485

question of Being can be indicated by pursuing the analysis
of EM a little further.
In Rahner's summary of Heidegger's thought it was observed
that Heidegger opposes any consideration of the Being question
in terms of logic. In our analysis of WM it was shown that the
reason Heidegger opposes the domination of the question of
Being by logic is that logic as understood today is a science
which deals with the consideration o£ beings. In the third
section of the fourth chapter of EM Heidegger considers the
relation of Being and thought. In that discussion it becomes
clear that Heidegger opposes logic because there is a more
primary sense of
which is the ground of what we now
understand by the term. This more primary sense of logos is
what ought to determine our thought. In the development of
this notion the sense of " hearing " is presented.
Heidegger maintains that logic as the science of thought is
today understood as the science of statements. Thinking, in
this view therefore, is determined by the statement. Logos
means " word " or " discourse " and legein means " to speak,"
as in dialogue or monologue. Heidegger argues, however, that for
the Greeks logos originally meant " to gather" or " to collect."
Heidegger cites examples from Homer and Heraclitus to illustrate his point and claims that the sense of these passages
can be understood only if we understand logos as originally
denoting the collecting collectedness of Being as that which
manifests beings.
Logos characterizes Being in a new and yet old respect: that
which is, which stands straight and distinct in itself, is at the
same time gathered togetherness in itself and by itse,lf, and
maintains itself in such togetherness. (EM, 110)

Logos is thus, according to Heidegger, originally understood as
Being itself insofar as it is the gathering together of all that
is. "Logos here signifies neither meaning nor word nor doctrine,
and surely not' meaning of a doctrine'; it means: the original
collecting collectedness which is in itself permanently dominant." (EM, 108)

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ROBERT MASSON

Heidegger notes that there is one text, however, which seems
to contradict his theory. In Fragment 50 a connection is made
between logos and " hearing " which seems to suggest that logos
is something " audible" (i.e., a word or speech) : "If you
have heard not me but the logos, then it is wise to say
accordingly: all is one." (EM, 108) Heidegger argues that
Heraclitus is not referring here to a hearing of " words " but to
a hearing or attending to that which makes words possible,
namely, an attending to Being itself. Only in this way can
it be explained why men are described by Heraclitus as
uncomprehending when they confront the logos. Heidegger
maintains that properly understood Fragment 50 says "do
not attach importance to words but heed the logos." For
Heidegger, then, " True hearing has nothing to do with ear
and mouth, but means to follow the logos and what it is,
namely, the collectedness of beings itself." (EM, 109)
Thus by " hearing " Heidegger once again refers us to the
Being question. There can be true speaking and hearing only
in an attending to Being itself. As Heidegger sees it, this
attending is in fact the origin of the definition of man in terms
of logos. The definition is not accomplished by "seizing upon
any attributes in the living creature called ' man ' as opposed
to other living creatures." Rather " being-human is logos, the
gathering and apprehending of the Being of beings: it is the
happening of that strangest of all, in whom through violence,
through acts of power ... , the overpowering is made manifest
and made to stand." (EM, 143) "Hearing" for Heidegger,
therefore, defines the essence of man as " existence," as the
place where Being is manifested and is thus quite different
from Rahner's notion of man as a "hearer."

*

*

*

It is unfortunate that Heidegger's notion of the type of
thought proper to Being cannot be pursued further. 14 This
uSee William J. Richardson's Heidegger: Through Phenomenology to Thought
(The Hague, 1963), to which the thesis presented here is much indebted.

HAHNER AND HEIDEGGER

487

essay, however, was meant only as a preliminary delimitation
of the essential difference between Rahner's thought and
Heidegger's, and this aim has been reached. It is at the very
level of the question asked that their philosophies confront
each other. It seems necessary to stress that this difference is
prior to, although not separate from, the question of methodology. I say this because Thomists who attempt to evaluate
Heidegger's philosophy often seem to suggest that the real
difference between their metaphysics and Heidegger's phenomenology is that the latter, because of the limitations of his
method, cannot pursue the question of being as far as the
metaphysician can. This interpretation seems to imply that
the limitations of this methodology are due primarily to
epistemological presuppositions. Rahner, for example, does
not seem to feel that there is any reason why, if he wanted,
Heidegger could not advance his thought beyond fundamental
ontology to the question of God-which, of course, is vvhat
Rahner does as a follower of Aquinas. But this interpretation
presupposes that, although Heidegger's method is different, his
question is the same.
It has been shown here, however, that the question is not
the same-or at least Heidegger does not believe it is the same.
The question of Being as Heidegger experiences it is a question
about Being as such. It is a question about that " manifesting "
by which beings are manifest. It is not a question of representing the "beingness" of beings either in terms of what is
common to them or in terms of the being (absolute or otherwise) that is their cause. In fact, the question of Being is not
a question of representing any thing. It is a question about
that which is not a being, which cannot be thought (represented) as a being, but which nevertheless is manifested as the
manifesting of beings. It is a question, which as far as we have
followed it here, finds its resolution in the questioning itseifman attending to Being. If this is true, Heidegger's notion of
Being is not so much determined by his method, as his method
is determined by the question itself. Heidegger does not make
the metaphysical move beyond Being to God, because he

488

ROBERT

MASSON

believes that such a move originates from a radical misunderstanding of Being.
Does this mean that, if one accepts Heidegger's analysis, one
must forsake the problem of God and consequently the philosophy of religion? Although it seems clear that one would have
to forsake the metaphysical " God " and the philosophy of
religion as Rahner understands it, it is not at all clear to me
that one would have to forsake either God or theology,
although both would have to be thought through at a much
more fundamental level.
RoBERT

Loyola College
Baltimore, Maryland

MAssoN

WILLIAM JAMES:

FACTS, FAITH, AND PROMISE

O

NE OF THE CENTRAL criticisms of the empirical
tradition is that it cuts the heart and spirit out of
man and sorrowfully limits him to the starkly cold
realm of facticity. Empiricism, say its critics, radically limits
man to the world of objective facts and dogmatically asserts
that the only things which exist are those things of a material
and immediately knowable nature. Those things that are not
knowable to science or to some form of objective analysis or
measurement simply do not exist. Within such a perspective
such questions as God, the reality of the soul, and the concept
of infinity are immediately denied as being de facto impossible.
While this criticism may be true of a number of empiricists,
there are highly influential exceptions, among whom is William
James. Although James was an avowed spokesmen of pragmatism and radical empiricism, he was never willing to absolutely
limit man's perspective of reality to the immediate facts
of experience. James contended that facts are simply not
enough and that man can out-strip the bald facts of experience through the actualization of his willing nature or
personal commitments of faith.
Early in his career James discovered what he felt to be
the proper vehicle for escaping the limitations of a radically
empirical world view through his readings of the French philosopher Charles Renouvier. "I think that yesterday (April
29, 1870) was a crisis in my life. I finished the first part of
Renouvier's second 'Essais' and see no reason why his definition of Free Will-' the sustaining of a thought because I
choose to when I might have other thoughts '-need be the
definition of an illusion. At any rate, I will assume for the
present-until next year-that it is no illusion. My first acl:

489

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A. R. GINI

of free will shall be to believe in free will." 1 By accepting
the reality of faith, belief, and/or free will James freed himself
from the " Bayblonian Captivity " of " brute facts " and
opened himself to the possibility of fulfilling his existential
desires and religious needs. It is my contention that, for
James, the fiat of faith became the main ingredient for all
adjudications that man makes in the fields of philosophy,
science, daily living, and, most importantly, religion.
The burden of this study shall be an attempt to show how
faith pervades the various sectors of James's over-all thought,
especially in regard to religion. I shall attempt to specify all
those factors which go into each personal act of faith in regard
to the various circumstances in which faith acts are necessitated.
By so doing I hope to free James from the usual pejoratives
associated with the empirical tradition. I also hope to show that
Professor James was not merely a spokesman for " popular
pragmatism" who was only interested in the "cash value" of
men's individual and immediate actions but that James was a
highly refined philosopher whose sensitivities also included the
ultimate goals and morals needs of all men.

*

*

*

*

Let us begin our investigation of the doctrine of "free will"
or the " gospel of belief or faith" by defining the terms " will,"
"belief," and "faith." First of all, by the term "will" James
does not wish to indicate a specifically definable organ of the
body or a section of the brain. The will is a generic term which
expresses the volitional, active, or selective nature of man. The
will is man's natural ability to choose or select between two or
more alternatives. Thus, " to will " means to " act " or
" choose " between a this or a that. In a very real sense, then,
"to will" is to "act" on a singular "commitment" between
a plurality of possible options; or another way of expressing it
would be to say that the will is man's power or faculty of de1 Wm. James, The Letters of William James, ed. by Henry James, III
(Boston:
Little, Brown and Co.,
pp. 147, 148.

WILLIAM

JAMES:

FACTS, FAITH, AND PROMISE

491

liberate choice and action. By the term " belief " James meant
an individual's consent or assent to the existence, reality, or
truth of a specific something, somewhere, rather than something-else. Belief is an aspect of our active nature, which
like will is interested in the acceptance or rejection of a
this or a that. 2 For James, belief in a particular subject matter,
hypothesis, or situation means a man's willingness to act
irrevocably upon it to the exclusion of its contradictory ideas,
hypotheses, or situations. 3 In The Principles of Psychology
James accepts the Scottish psychologist, Alexander Bain' s
statement that "in its essential character, belief is a phase of
our active nature-otherwise called the will." 4 In other words,
James felt that the concepts of brief and will are so closely tied
together that in actuality belief served as the trigger to man's
will and powers of active choice; that action, itself, and the will
to act are the end results of a man's belief. James later goes one
step beyond this by stating that will and belief are not merely
closely allied but that they are, in fact, "two names for one and
the same psychological phenomenon." 5 In short, both operations are acts of specific and deliberate choice in conjunction
with the alternatives available; therefore, to believe is to
act or to believe is to will to act: all deliberate actions are
guided by our beliefs.
Building on the insights he gathered from Renouvier and
Bain James went on to develop his own understanding of the
term "faith." " Faith means belief in something concerning
which doubt is still theoretically possible; as the test of belief
is the willingness to act, one may say that faith is the readiness
to act in a cause the prosperous issue of which is not certified
to us in advance. It is, in fact, the same moral quality which
we call courage in practical affairs .... " 6 What is important
2 Cf., Wm. James, The Principles of Psychology (New York:
Dover Publications,
Inc.), Vol. II, p. 283.
8 Cf., Wm. James, The Will to Believe (New York:
Dover Publications, Inc.),
p. 3, (Hereafter:
WTB).
• The Principles of Psychology, Vol. II, p. 296.
6 Ibid., Vol. II, p. 321.
"WTB, p. 90.

A. R. GINI

to notice in this definition of faith is James's commitment to
action. That is to say, faith does not merely mean intellectual
acceptance or just saying that one has faith in this or that;
faith means active engagement or a willingness to act, especially under conditions of risk in ways dictated by the meaning of the particular act of faith in question. At its face
value James's definition of faith in using the term "belief"
seems clumsy. However, I believe that this clumsiness can be
resolved if we are willing to accept the following interpretation.
The notions of faith and belief are so interrelated and intertwined that they not only serve as synonyms for each other
but are, in fact, one and the same thing. I base this statement
on James's own pragmatic theory of truth which states that,
if no practical differences can be found between two alternative
positions or terms before us, then the alternatives mean practically the same thing. That is, if each term's respective consequences are the same, then the terms mean literally the same
thing. 7 Is this not the case between the terms faith and belief?
Both terms refer to a specific and deliberate choice between a
this or a that; both terms suggest that one's choice should then
be implemented by specific actions in regards to that choice. If
this is the case, then, the dispute or problematics of the situation is idle and meaningless. Moreover, since faith and belief
mean pragmatically the same thing and since belief and will are
essentially the same psychological acts, I submit that all three
terms refer to one and the same happening or occurence and,
therefore, can be used in a synonymous fashion. Furthermore,
these three terms are also synonymous with the expression free
will. Again this identification is well warranted because, pragmatically speaking, one cannot identify any essential difference
between an act of free will, a commitment of faith, or an act of
belief. In other words, an act of free will is the actual manifestation of a faith commitment or an act of belief which chooses
to accept as true one particular statement, thought, or thing
when others are possible. Another more Jamesian way of ex7

Cf., Wm. James, Pragmatism (Clevland and New York: Meridian Books, 1968),

pp. 4ft-48.

WILLIAM

JAMES:

FACTS, FAITH,

AND PROMISE

493

pressing this same point would be: Free Will-is the specific
acceptance or belief in a thought because I deliberately choose
to when I might have accepted or chosen other thoughts or
alternatives. Taking all of this into consideration, I do not
believe I am bastardizing the spirit or the letter of James's
own words by suggesting that what James means by a man's
will, free will, faith and/or belief ultimately and only refers to
each man's ability and right to accept as true any aspect of
reality, which does not immediately confute reality, on the
strength of his own personal desires or needs.

*

*

*

*

In all of Professor James's work and writings on the question
of faith or free will his purpose was always and only to establish
the reality of the act of faith and not the reality of the particular facts of faith. Professor R. B. Perry helps to substantiate this thesis when he pointed out that James wrote The Will
to Believe in an attempt to justify belief and not for the
purpose of trying to convince us that God exists. 9 James stated
that faith is an essential ingredient of our mental make-up. 10
In fact, he stated that faith is one of mankind's inalienable
birth-rights 11 and that the only escape from the powers of faith
is mental nullity. 12 He suggested that we cannot live or think
at all without some degree of faith; that in the total game of
life we stake our persons often and regularly on commitments
of faith. James accepted the proposition that faith is one of
man's basic abilities; that man's freedom to choose the attitude
he takes toward his own fate may not change the fate but it
will greatly change the man! Certainly, we are all born of
woman, struggle through various stages of growth and ulti8 Cf., George Santayana,
Character and Opinion in the United States (New York:
George Braziller, 1955), pp. 45, 46.
9 Cf., Ralph
Barton Perry, The Thought and Character of William JamefS
(Briefer Version), (New York and Evanston: Harper Torch Books), p. 215.
1 ° Cf., WTB, p. 91.
11 Cf., Wm. James, Some ProblemB of Philosophy
(New York:
Longmons,
Green and Co., 1940), p. 225.
12 Cf., WTB, p. 93.

494

A. R. GINI

mately die; what we think about and believe in will not
change these brute facts. However, our thoughts and beliefs
will vastly change how we negotiate these three-score and
ten. Clearly, James was convinced that it was not only
pragmatically efficient but clinically sound for a man to ultilize
his powers of belief; he was totally committed to the proposition that each individual at his own risk has a right to believe
in any hypothesis that is alive enough to tempt his wilU 3 For
him, faith, like life, is a gamble. Therefore, he felt that each
man can either doubt, believe, or deny as he sees fit because he
runs his own risk, and he has the natural right to choose which
one it shall be. 14 Each man must act as he thinks best and if he
is wrong, so much the worse for him. 15
For many people, The Will to Believe has been taken to
mean that you not only can, but that you should, believe anything you care to believe and that, with regard to anything you
desire to be true, you can force yourself to believe it to be
true against all incoming evidence if only your will is strong
enough. This is simply not the case at all. James placed clear
limitations on our right to believe. It is only under certain
well-defined conditions that the will or right to believe becomes
operative at all. James never intended this doctrine to serve
as a blanket policy covering all occasions, and he never suggested that it gives us an unlimited license which entitles us to
determine truth as we so see fit even in the face of evidence
to the contrary. In other words, James's formal and intended
definition of faith should not be confused with the negativity
and pure subjectivism of the age-old school boy dictum:
" Faith is when you believe something that you know ain't
true." 16 James maintained that the definition of faith is a
positive assertion based not on mere blind trust but on warranted or at least hypothetical possibility: i. e., " Faith means
belief in something concerning which doubt is still theoretically
possible." The key term in this phrase is the word " possible."
In fact, the basic premise underlying James's assertion that
18
10

Cf., ibid., p.
Cf., ibid., pp. 94, 95, (Note) .

15

16

Cf., ibid., pp. 30, 31.
Ibid., p.

WILLIAM

JAMES:

FACTS, FAITH, AND PROMISE

495

man has the right to choose or believe is the brute reality that
the world continuously offers each man the possibility of acting
in many diverse ways. In other words, in a world where possibilities exist, belief is not only justified but necessary.
Professor James suggested that every student of philosophy
is all too painfully aware of the myriad of possibilities and
choices that the actual world and the academic community are
constantly placing before him. A quick look at the contradictory opinions which exist about the same topics helps to give a
picture of the range of the problem and leads one to believe
that we can find no proposition ever regarded by anyone as
evidently certain, that has not either been called a falsehood
or at least had its truth sincerely questioned by someone else:
the world is rational through and through -vs- its existence is
one ultimate brute fact; there is a personal God -vs- a personal
God is inconceivable; there is an extra-mental physical world
immediately known to the mind -vs- the mind only knows its
own ideas; a moral imperative exists -vs- obligation is only the
resultant of desires; there is an endless chain of causes -vs- there
is only an absolute first cause; there is this -vs- there is that;
etc. 17 All of this serves to indicate James's belief that the actual
facts of experience, pure reason, and logic are sometimes insufficient in themselves to mitigate and explain the occurrences
and happenings of reality. Reason or facts may be lacking on
three separate accounts:
1) the given evidence whetherrational or factual is insufficient, i.e., it does not take us far
enough to warrant a decision; 2) the evidence as presented is
incomplete, i.e., all the facts are not in yet; 3) finally, it is
also possible that the mind simply cannot grasp the evidence
presented to it, i.e., the intellect even with truth directly in its
grasp may have no infallible signal for knowing whether it be
true or not! 18 In concreto what James was saying is that
because of natural limitations of reason and fact very often the
actions and activities of men's lives are triggered or inaugurated
by something other than our intellectual nature. James called
17

Cf., ibid., p. 16.

18

Cf., ibid., p. 16.

496

A. R. GINI

the non-rational aspect of the human character man's passional
nature, and he stated that " our passional nature not only
lawfully may, but must decide on options between propositions,
whenever it is a genuine option that cannot by its nature be
decided on intellectual grounds; for to say, under such circumstances ' do not decide, but leave the question open,' is itself a
passional decision,-just like deciding yes or no,-and is attended with the same risk of losing the truth." 19 In lieu of this,
what James is implying is that man does not merely have a
" will to believe," which is in effect a " right to believe," but in
a very real existential sense, taking into consideration the laws
of the mind and the laws of experimental science, man has a
"need to believe." For James, man cannot live or think at
all without some faith in the various hypotheses concerning
reality. 20 Without the powers of belief, based on at least
warranted assertability, man is led to the edge of the slope, at
the bottom of which lies pyrrhonistic skepticism, absolute
pessimism, and intellectual suicide. 21
In the final analysis, said James, not all things are available
to the laws of logic, nor are they knowable to the laws of
science. It is true that in the last three hundred years science
has mushroomed, but what we know now is but the minutest
glimpse of what the universe will prove to be when adequately
understood. In other words, our knowledge and our science is
but a drop and our ignorance is a sea, therefore, man must
oftentimes base his decisions on the subjective propensities of
his personal feelings and desires. 22 When reason and facts break
down, a man's temperament is the tyrannical and controlling
force which determines all faith options and belief commitments.23 Human passions, he said, are often stronger than
technical rules, 24 and when all else fails, pretend what we may,
the whole man within us is at work when we form our opinions,
philosophical and otherwise. 25 James suggests that no matter
19
2

Ibid., p. 11.

° Cf., ibid., p. 95.

21
22

Cf., ibid., p. 39.
Cf., ibid., p. 54.

Cf., ibid., pp.
Cf., ibid., p.
25 Cf., ibid., p.

23
2•

WILLIAM

JAMES:

FACTS, FAITH, AND PROMISE

497

how undignified and unacademic it might sound, the whole
history of man's opinions and ideas are to a great extent
passional decisions and judgments based on a certain clash of
human temperaments. Each man's temperament loads the
evidence for him one way or the other, making for a more
sentimental or a more hard-hearted view of the universe. Men
trust their temperaments, and they seek a representation of
reality that suits them. Each man feels that men of the
opposite temper are out of key with the real character of the
world. 26 The diversity in man's active impulses, said James,
can be easily examplified by suggesting that a philosophy fit
for Bismarck obviously will not be fit for acceptance by a
valetudinarian poet. 27 By reason of Bismarck's postulates of
faith or rationality (i.e., choices or active decisions) he perceives the world to belong to the strong, and a world in which
cold steel and strength determines all. On the other hand, the
poet, by his postulates of rationality, perceives reality to be
quiet, weak, and in poor health. 28
In the introduction to The Will to Believe James adamantly
denies that he can be accused of preaching the use of blind or
reckless faith. His intended purpose from the very beginning
was to preach the right of man to indulge his personal faith
when he felt it was warranted. He agreed that at best this was
a risky business and that there was no sure or definite method
of always attaining truth by this means. However, he said, we
must expose ourselves to the dangers and try to steer the
middle ground between believing too much and believing too
•• Cf., Pragmatism, p. 19.
•• Cf., WTB, pp. 88, 89.
•• James's argument concerning the tyrannical character of our temperament
is based on two fundamental suppositions:
" first, when we make theories
about the world and discuss them one with another, we do so in order to attain
a conception of things which shall give us subjective satisfaction; and second,
if there be two conceptions, and the one seems to us, on the whole, more rational
(i.e., more suited to our needs) than the other, we are entitled to suppose that the
more rational one is the truer of the two." (WTB, p. 146) In other words, each
individual accepts as true oniy those theories, ideas, or philosophies which not
only account satisfactorily for his sensible needs and experiences but which also
appeal most urgently to his aesthetic, emotional, and active needs.

498

A. R. GIN!

little. It simply does not follow, said James, that because
faith can be reckless that faith commitments should never be
trusted or never be indulged in. He believed that there are
certain safeguards, which if followed closely, help to minimize
the irresponsibility of faith and help to give it real credibility
and import in our lives. 29 First of all, he suggests that we give
the name of hypothesis to anything that may be proposed to
our belief; furthermore, he stated, that, just as electricians
speak of live and dead wires, let us refer to any hypothesis as
either live or dead. Very simply, a live hypothesis is one
which appears as a real possibility to whom it is proposed.
James maintained that the aliveness or deadness of any
given hypothesis is not an intrinsic property of the hypothesis
but exists only in relationship to the individual thinker. That
is to say, the acceptance of every hypothesis is a purely subjective affair. Secondly, he suggested that we call the decision between two hypotheses an option. He stated that
options may be of several kinds: living or dead; forced or
avoidable; momentous or trivial. In regard to a faith commitment we may call an option genuine when it is forced, living,
and momentous. A living option is one in which the both alternatives are real possibilities or choices for the individual involved; e. g., "Are you going to go to college or are you going
to work instead? " A forced option is one in which there is no
possibility of not choosing; e. g., "Either accept this particular
truth or go without it, you have no other alternative! " A
momentous option is a unique opportunity that happens
usually but once in a lifetime: e. g., "Would you like to be a
crew member on one of the forthcoming space flights?" Finally,
James pointed out that faith cannot be so independent that
it can contradict at its own pleasure matters of fact which are
either immediate or remote. In other words, just by willing it
we cannot believe that Abraham Lincoln's existence was a
myth, nor can we by any effort of our will believe ourselves
well and about when we are roaring with rheumatism in bed;
•• Cf., WTB, pp. X,XI, (Preface).

WILLIAM

JAMES:

FACTS, FAITH, AND PROMISE

499

or feel certain that the sum of the two one-dollar bills in our
pocket must be a hundred dollars. It is true, said James, that
we can" say" any of these things, but that will not change the
reality of their objective existence. Whether I like them or
not, certain facts are given irrespective of my wishes, and in all
that concerns truths such as these subjective preferences do
not and should not play a part. 30
In effect, Professor James is saying that all living options are
judgments and, since every specific judgment requires a specific
act of faith. Faith is that active and necessary element which
pervades every situation in which man is required to make a
judgment concerning the world of objective reality. Moreover,
besides all of man's volitional actions, James felt that most of
man's habitual actions are dependent on the operation of his
will and the powers of faith and selectivity. In a broad sense,
said James, the faith act designates our entire capacity for an
impulsive and active life, including our instinctive reactions and
those forms of behavior that have become secondarily automatic and semi-unconscious through frequent repetition. In
the narrower and more usual sense acts of faith and will are
such acts which cannot be inattentively performed. In all
vital decisions or judgments a distinct idea of what is involved
and a deliberate fiat on the mind's part must precede their
execution. 31 Thus, in every instance where a judgment is necessary, the individual's choice is all important; this choice is
determined by the amount of faith one has in a particular alternative before him. To be more precise, we choose a particular
alternative because we believe that the results of our choice
will be the most beneficial for us. 32 In this manner faith verifies
itself by virtue of its own actions. In other words, every faith
commitment must be judged by its fruits and not by its roots,
for in the last analysis faith is measured by the action it produces. If its actions prove beneficial and useful, one can assert
so Ibid.,

pp.
3, 4, 5.
Cf., Wm. James, Talks to Teachers on Psychology:
of Life's Ideals (New York: Dover Press), p. 83.
•• Cf., WTB, pp. 96, 97.
81

and to Students on Some

500

A. R. GINI

that a particularfaith commitment in an object or in an idea has
justified itself and proven itself real and true. The conclusion
to be drawn from all of this is that, for James, every preference
we make, whether it be in philosophy, science, psychology,
theology, ethics, or the everyday questions of living is dependent on an explicit personal act of faith; faith, then, is an element
of our active nature which, in effect, completely determines all
of our decisions. Every branch of science and every aspect of
life must make some assumptions. After all, said James, all
men are but fallible mortals, and we must sometimes begin
somewhere with something which we at least titularly accept
as true. 33
James found it interesting that the necessity of faith as an
ingredient in our mental attitude was strongly insisted on by
the scientific philosophers of his day; yet, he thought it indeed
strange that they maintained that it is only legitimate when
used in the interests of one particular proposition, namely, the
proposition that the course of nature is uniform. That nature
will follow tomorrow the same laws that she follows today is,
they all admit, a truth which no man can know; but in the
interest of cognition as well as of action we must postulate or
assume it is true. However, with regard to all other possible truths most of these scientific philosophers think that
an attitude of faith is1 not only illogical but shameful. 34 James
considered all those philosophers who denied the importance of
faith in our lives guilty of a grave misculculation and misinterpretation of human nature.
It is almost incredible that men who are themselves working philosophers should pretend that any philosophy can be, or ever has
been, constructed without the help of personal preference, belief or
divination. How have they succeeded in so stultifying their sense
or the living facts of human nature as not to perceive that every
philosopher, or man of science either, whose initiative accounts for
anything in the evolution of thought, has taken his stand on a sort
•• Cf., Wm. James, "The Function of Cognition," from: The Meaning of Truth,
in The Writings of William James, ed. by, John J. McDermott (New York:
Random House), 1967, p. 139, (hereafter: McDermott).
•• Cf., WTB, pp. 91, 92.

WILLIAM

JAMES:

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of dumb conviction that the truth must lie in one direction rather
than another, and a sort of preliminary assurance that this noting
can be made to work; and has borne his best fruit in trying to
make it work? 35

Although James maintained that specific acts of faith are
involved in all our assertions concerning reality, he warns us
that faith cannot create something out of nothing. That is,
faith does not and cannot create a solipistic dream world, or a
situation in reality, by the force of sheer wish-power or willpower.36 According to James faith is but a. tool to help explain
and substantiate reality only in reference to our experiencing of
it. Faith is not totally subjective for it cannot create new
reality a.s such nor can it perpetuate itself beyond its ability to
generate some sort of supporting da.ta..37 Every faith commitment must have some warranted assertability behind it, and
there must be some sort of positive feedback of facts for a.
faith commitment to continue in a specific direction. Thus, for
James, although faith is all-important in directing and guiding
men's lives, viable faith cannot be completely detached from
or contradict reality: " Woe to him whose beliefs play fast and
loose with the order which realities follow in his experience;
they will lead him nowhere or else make false connection." 38
However, James did maintain that there is a. whole class of
truths whose reality depends on our faith or the vigor of our
own will power and our active implementation of their possibilities. That is, James believed that there are times when man
can rise above the merely given and, by having faith in a fact,
can actually help to create a fact. James fully explicated this
point by the use of a.n example which speaks for itself.
Suppose, for example, that I am climbing in the Alps, and have
the ill-luck to work myself into a position from which the only
escape is by a terrible leap. Being without similar experience, I
have no evidence of my ability to perform it successfully; but hope
•• Ibid., p. 98.
•• Cf., ibid., p. 146.
87 Cf., McDermott,
p. XXIV,
88 Pragmatism, p. 186.

(Introduction).

502

A. R. GIN!

and confidence in myself make me sure I shall not miss my aim,
and nerve my feet to execute what without those subjective emotions would perhaps have been impossible. But suppose that, on
the contrary, the emotions of fear and mistrust preponderate ...
why, then I shall hesitate so long that at last exhausted and
trembling, and launching myself, in a moment of despair, I miss my
foothold and roll into the abvss. In this case . . . the part of
wisdom clearly is to believe what one desires; for the belief is one
of the indispensable preliminary conditions of the realization of its
object. There are then cases where faith creates its own verification.
Believe, and you shall be right, for you shall save yourself; doubt,
and you shaH be right, for you shall perish. The only difference is
that to believe is greatly to our advantage. 89
This example typifies James's conviction that "again and
again success depends on the energy of act; energy again depends on (the) faith that we shall not fail; and that faith in
turn on the faith that we are right-which faith thus verifies
itself." 40 In other words, desire for a certain kind of truth can
bring about that truth's existence, if we apply ourselves to the
task and do not sit around merely wishing or hoping that this
or that were true. 41
Before concluding this section, I think that it is important
to point out that, although James maintained that each
specific act of faith must fulfill its intended practical purpose, it
was never James's intention to suggest that in so doing one's
faith commitment had the right to over-throw or openly clash
with the individual's backlog of accumulated beliefs and interests. Furthermore, each act of faith must look to the
future with an eye toward the attainment of the greatest
possible good. That is to say, acts of faith cannot occur in
vacuo, many factors must be taken into consideration. Consequently, acts of faith or will, for James, are good, practical,
and true only insofar as they serve the immediate need but
without distorting or destroying one's previous fund or experience, truths, and beliefs and as long as each action is open
""WTB, pp. 96, 97.
•• Ibid., p. 100.
41 Cf., ibid., p. 24.

WILLIAM

JAMES:

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to and geared toward the greatest possible good which the
future may contain.

*

*

*

*

The next and obvious question concerns the role of faith
commitments in regards to the religious hypothesis. James
called the question of whether this world is at bottom a moral
or immoral universe the most radical question of life. 42 In no
uncertain terms James insisted that " man needs a rule for his
will, and he will invent one if one be not given to him." 43
Specifically, he maintained that this need is a need for "an
eternal moral order " which gives direction and purpose to
man's life. This search, he said," is one of the deepest needs of
our breast " 44 and it is a search that man is not easily distracted from. For James, man has an intrinsic "need" to be
subjugated to a higher power which we commonly refer to as
God. In a very real sense, said James, man seemingly has a
psychic want to believe that" all is not vanity in the Universe,
whatever the appearances may suggest." 45 Man wants to
accept the existence of God, because an acceptance of God
guarantees to man an ideal order which shall be permanently
preserved no matter what happens to the world as we now
know it. In other words, belief in God is a belief in the presence
of promise in the world. In effect, God is the ultimate mitigator
of the harshness of reality because a belief in God gives man a
feeling of security, banishes man's cosmic fear, and gives him
hope that tomorrow may prove more sanative than today. 46
Accordingly, each man has a vital stake in the unknown! 47
The question now arises, just how do we come to know of
God? The sa.cred texts of organized religion, said James, tell
us of a loving God, yet immediate experience is full of contra•• Cf., ibid., p. 103.
•• Ibid., p. 88.
"Pragmatism, p. 77.
45 Wm. James,
"Circumscription of the (Religious) Topic," from: Variaties
of Religious Experience, in McDermott, p. 748.
46 Cf., Wm. James, "Pragmatism
and Radical Empiricism," from: The 1Ueaning
of Truth, in McDermott, p. 313.
•• Cf., WTB, p. 54.

504

A. R. GINI

diction, i.e., beauty and hideousness, love and cruelty, and
life and death. It is, therefore, difficult at the level of plain
facts to perceive a "Good God." 48 Moreover, said James, the
physical order of nature, taken simply as science nows it, also
cannot be held to reveal any one harmonious spiritual intent.
It is a mere " weather," as Chauncey Wright called it, doing
and undoing without end but with no specific order or purpose
in sight. 49 Yet, man cannot live by facts alone, and therefore
when facts are not enough and when reason is insufficient man
has the right to assert his will when the possibility that something might be true does not openly confute given experience.
In the question of God, said James, man has a right to believe
that the physical order is but a partial order and that we can
supplement it by an unseen spiritual order which we assume on
trust. 50 In other words, since real possibility is the key to all
faith commitments, the very possibility that God exists is
enough to warrant belief. Quoting his friend William Salter,
James suggests that" as the essence of courage is to stake one's
life on a possibility, so the essence of faith is to believe that the
possibility exists." 51 After all, said James, what really has the
authority to debar us from our religious demands? Science, as
such, certainly has no authority, for she can only say what is,
not what is not; that is, science can only tell us of what is
known, not of what is not known. Surely, said James, no one
will contest the statement that it is a fact of human nature that
men can live and die by the help of a sort of faith that does
not have a single dogma or definition. This being the case, the
bare assurance that this natural order is not ultimate but a
mere sign or vision; (the external staging of a many-storied
universe in which spiritual forces have the last word and are
eternal) , this bare assurance is to most men enough to make
life seem worth living in spite of every contrary presumption
suggested by its circumstances on the natural plane. 52
That the world of physics is probably not absolute, and that
our whole physical life may lie soaking in a spiritual atmosphere
•• Cf., ibid., pp. 41, 42, 43, 44.
•• Ibid., p. 52.
•• Cf., ibid., p. 52.

51 Ibid., p. 62.
•• Cf., ibid., p. 56, 57.

WILLIAM

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or dimension of being that we, at present, have no organ for
apprehending is vividly suggested to us, said James, by the
analogy of the life of our domestic animals. For example, our
dogs are in our human life but not of it. They witness hourly
the outward body of events the inner meaning of which cannot,
by any possible operation, be revealed to their intelligence,events in which they, themselves, often play a cardinal part.
Let us suppose, said James, that my pet terrier bites a teasing
boy, and the father demands damages. The dog may be present
at every step of the negotiations and even see the money paid,
and yet be without an inkling of what it all means, without a
suspicion that it has anything to do with him. The dog quite
simply does not have the ability to know what is going on
around him. Now, said James, let us turn from this to the
life of man. In the dog's life we see the world invisible to him
because we ourselves live in both worlds. In human life is it
not possible that, although we see only our world and the dog's
within it, there yet exists a still wider world encompassing both
of these worlds which is as unseen to us as our world is to the
dog? And is it not also possible that to believe in this world
may be the most essential and important function of our lives?
But "may be! may be! " one now hears the agnostic positivist
contemptuously exclaim; " what use can a scientific life have for
maybes? " Well, said James, is not the scientific life, itself,
based on " maybes? " James maintained that, so far as man
stands for anything and is productive or imaginative at all, his
entire vital function may be said to deal with " maybes." For
not a victory is gained, not a deed of faithfulness or courage is
done, except upon a" maybe." Nor is there a service or a single
act of generosity, or a scientific exploration or experiment or
textbook that may not be a mistake, for in everything there
is an element of risk or chance. Yet, said James, it is only by
risking our persons from one hour to another that we live at
all. Therefore, he said, if this is the state of matters, then why
not risk, why not believe, for if we win we win all and if we
lose we lose absolutely nothing! 58
•• Cf., ibid., pp. 57, 58, 59.

506

A. R. GIN!

James maintained that the religious question is a burning
one in the hearts of all men of every generation. He believed
that each man must make a commitment on this topic one way
or another, because he felt that there can be no neutral position
in regard to God. Man cannot escape the issue by assuming
a position of skepticism and sit back and wait for more
evidence, because although we do avoid error in this way if
religion be untrue, we lose the good, if it be true just as
certainly as if we positively chose to disbelieve. 54 In such
instances, said James, skepticism and immovable doubt are
themselves decisions of the widest practical reach, and it is
often pragmatically impossible to distinguish doubt from dogmatic negation. Moreover, skepticism in moral matters is an
active ally of immorality: who is not for is against! In theory
as well as in practice, dodge, or hedge, or talk as we like about
a " wise skepticism," we are in the end really doing volunteer
military service fol" one side or the other. 55 James pointed out
that the skeptic's supposed position is like the man who
hesitates indefinitely to ask a certain women to marry him
because he is not perfectly sure that she will prove an angel
after he has brought her home. Would he not, said James, cut
himself off from that particular angel-possibility just as decisively if he went out and married someone else? Skepticism,
then, is not avoidance of an option; it is an option of a certain
particular line of risk: it is better to risk loss of truth than take
a chance on error. The faith-vetoer is actively playing his stake
as much as the believer is; he is backing the field against the
religious hypothesis, just as the believer is backing the religious
hypothesis against the field. Therefore, said James, to preach
skepticism to us as a duty until " sufficient evidence " for
religion is found is tantamount to telling us, when in the presence of the religious hypothesis, that to yield to our fear of its
being an error is wiser and better than to yield to our hope that
it may be true. I, for one, said James, simply refuse obedience
to the skeptic's demand to imitate his kind of option. If
•• Cf., ibid., p.

•• Cf., ibid., p. 109.

WILLIAM

JAMES:

FACTS, FAITH, AND PROMISE

507

religion be true and the evidence for it is still insufficient, James
will not put an extinguisher on his willing nature and by so
doing forfeit his only chance in life of getting on the winning
side. 56 James exclaimed that he and all men have the right to
run the risk of acting on their passional need,-because in the
present such a commitment gives man a "peace that passeth
understanding," and more importantly, this belie£ may in the
future prove itself not only prophetic and right but also
eternally rewarding.
In essence James is saying that given the limitations of the
world of objective facts, science and logical reasoning, religion
is a living, forced, and momentous option which can neither be
escaped or avoided and must be resolved by each individual. 57
In other words, the religious option, like all moral questions,
immediately presents itself as a question whose solution cannot
wait for sensible proof, because all moral questions are questions
not of what sensibly exists but of what is, or would be good
if it did exist. Science can tell us of what exists; but to compare
the worth of what exists and of what does not exist, we must
consult not science, but what Pascal calls the heart. 58 James
stated that Pascal's wager theory is possibly the most decisive
argument ever presented on the question of the existence of
God. Following Pascal's lead, James stated that the acceptance
of the reality of God is a " leap of faith " which transcends the
natural inadequacies of the human mind. 59 In the final analysis,
said James, the factual proof for God's existence will remain
unsolved and insoluble forever; therefore, acceptance of God is
an emotional and practical thing based on faith. Man, he said,
must recognize the opaque limits of his speculative insight; 60
he must realize that, if his heart does not want a world of moral
reality, his head will assuredly never let him believe in one! 61

*

*

*

*

When all is said and done, the pragmatic significance of Professor James's acceptance of the free will is that this decision
Cf., ibid., p. 101.
Cf., ibid., p.
58 Cf., ibid., p.

Cf., ibid., p. n.
°Cf., ibid., pp. 185, 186, 187.

56

59

57

6

61

Cf., ibid., p.

508

A. R. GINI

allows for a " cosmological theory of promise." That is, in a
world where conclusive evidence is not always readily available
for making definite judgments concerning the make-up, structure, and meaning of reality, the activity of man's passional
nature at least affords him the "possibility" that he might
be true or correct in regards to his decisions concerning reality.
James contended that there is no more crippling source of
deception in the investigation of reality in general which can
compare with a fixed belief that certain kinds of phenomena are
de facto impossible. 62 The real strength and power of free will,
said James, is that it releases man from the captivity of" brute
facts." Acording to James, the concept of freedom holds out
to man the real possibility of hope and expectation but never
the assurance of absolute certitude. Opting for free will,
allows man to cast aside scientific reasoning or logic as
the only acceptable vehicles for the formulation of everyday
judgment and for the development of a viable Weltanschauung.
That is to say, once armed with the knowledge of the power of
faith and with full consciousness of the responsiblities and risks
involved, man is now free to give himself over to anything
strong enough to catch his eye. James suggested that one's
faith-tendencies usually proceed along the lines of a seven-point
procedural method which he called the " faith-ladder:"
1) There is nothing absurd in a certain view of the world
being true, nothing self-contradictory;
2) It might have been true under certain conditions;
3) It may be true, even now;
4) It is fit to be true;
5) It ought to be true;
6) It must be true;
7) It shall be true, at any rate true for me.
"Obviously," said James," this is no intellectual chain of inferences, like the sorites of the logic books. Yet it is a slope of
good-will on which in the larger questions of life men habitually
live." 63
62
63

Cf., The Letters of William James, Vol. I., p. 248.
Some Problems of Philosophy, p. 224.

WILLIAM

JAMES:

FACTS, FAITH, AND PROMISE

509

James found in man a will to believe, and he put this at the
base of all of man's thinking concerning reality. Moreover, he
argued that every system of philosophy depends, in the last
analysis, upon the will to believe. Man wants to believe in a
certain way, because the belief seems to satisfy him most completely; therefore, said James, man has the right to chose as
he sees fit-but always at his own peril. According to Professor
James, then, for each thinker the ultimate authority must be
his own understanding o£ reality as he sees it. For James," the
fons et origo o£ all reality, whether from the absolute or the
practical point of view is thus subjective, is ourselves." 64 In
other words, we are the sum total of our own choices within the
limits of our given world. 65 Furthermore, since each man is
captain of his own ship and master of his own fate, no one has
the right to issue vetoes to others with whom we do not agree.
James felt that we must "tolerate, respect and indulge those
whom we see harmlessly interested and happy in their own
ways, however unintelligible these may be to us." Moreover, he
believed that " the first thing to learn in intercourse with others
is non-interference with their own particular ways of being
happy, provided those ways do not assume to interfere by
violence with ours. No one has insight into all the ideals. No
one should presume to judge off-hand. The pretention to dogmatize about them in each other is the root of most human
injustices and cruelties, and the trait in human character most
likely to make angels weep." 66

A. R. GIN!
Loyola University
Chicago, Illinois

The Principles of Psychology, Vol. II, pp. 296, 297.
Cf., Rollo May, "The Emergence of Existential
Psychology,"
from:
Existential Psychology, ed. by Rollo May, p. 13.
66 Talks to Teachers on Psychology:
and to Students on Some of Life's Ideals,
pp. 129, 130.
6•

65

WHITEHEAD AND PERSONAL IDENTITY

T

!E QUESTION whether Whitehead's speculative phiosophy can be adequately applied to the fact of
personal identity has long been a thorn in the sides
of Whiteheadians. Personal identity seems to be a fundamental
aspect of experience to which any comprehensive and systematic philosophy simply must do justice. Yet the distinctive
features of Whitehead's thought, particularly its atomism,
appear to militate against, if not indeed preclude, any such
adequacy.
In his A Christian Natural Theology, John Cobb considered
this problem and attempted to provide a solution. 1 The
purpose of this article is to examine that solution, to raise
some questions about it, and to present some alternative
suggestions.
Although it has been several years since Cobb's book was
published, it seems appropriate to review his contribution
because of the fundamental importance of the issue. For the
success of Whitehead's speculative philosophy can be viewed as
resting upon the cogency of its claim to be a " one-substance
cosmology." 2 The one categoreal scheme is to provide one
conceptuality applicable to God, man, and the natural world
alike. The cogency of this claim is reduced, however, if the
scheme is really inapplicable to man's experience of personal
identity. In this context Cobb's proposal becomes fairly important. If it cannot bear the weight he places upon it-and
1 John
B. Cobb, Jr., A Christian Natural Theology (Philadelphia:
The
Westminster Press, 1965), pp. 47-91. Subsequent references to this work are
abbreviated as CNT and incorporated within the text.
2 Process and Reality
(New York: Harper & Row, 1960), p. 1'!9, see p. 168.
references to this work are abbreviated as PR and incorporated within

text.

510

WHITEHEAD

AND PERSONAL

IDENTITY

511

he admits to some dissatisfaction with his own solution-an
alternative must be sought. 3

I
Cobb locates the problem of personal identity as resting with
Whitehead's account of the soul, that center of consciousness
and experience which we otherwise, and more usually, identify
as the self. In more technical terms, the soul is that living
person which is the series of dominant occasions within a body.
Cobb does not think that questions about the role of the body
in personal identity are really to the point, for in the last
analysis "it is the soul that is truly personal, the true subject."
(CNT 66) 4 The body is rather the environment for personal
existence and is itself " ontologically distinct " from the soul.
(CNT 66) Thus it is apparent that by personal identity Cobb
has in mind the identity of the person construed as a centered
self or soul rather than a mind-body unity of which the soul
is only a part.
Now it is quite clear that Whitehead's categories repudiate
any notion of a numerical or absolute self-identity through
time. Such self-identity belongs only to individual actual
entities. The fact of personal identity through time cannot
then be construed in Whitehead's system in any absolute sense.
The question is whether it can be clearly construed in terms
of the soul.
Cobb argues that Whitehead presents two categoreal or
systematic resources for this task. Both pertain to the relationship between successive actual entities in a personally
ordered society. The first resource which might explicate
3 Cobb himself points out the seriousness of the issue (CNT 74, 76).
• I think Cobb is incorrect in this position, but I am unable to argue the point
here. Whitehead does observe that if " human occasions of experience e«sentially
inherit in one-dimensional personal order, there is a gap between human occasions
and the physical occasions of nature," Adventures of Ideas (New Yol'k: The
Macmillan Company, 1933), p. 243. (Subsequently references to this work are
abbreviated as AI and incorporated within the text.)
The whole thrust of
Whitehead's endeavor is directed against such a gap. Cobb's position only widens
it.

512

JOHN B. BENNETT

personal identity is the inheritance of a common pattern or
character. The second is some special mode in which the past
is inherited. Cobb's solution involves the complete rejection
of the first resource and a development of the second beyond
the few enigmatic statements in which Whitehead announced it.
The rejected resource is that " the identity of the person
through time points to the inheritance of a common character
through the successive occasions." (CNT 73) Cobb regards
this explanation as inappropriate for two reasons.
His first argument is that we do not in practice ascribe
personal identity on these grounds. Neither a common character nor the transmission of this character from moment to
moment " causes us to judge personal identity." (CNT 73)
Twins share commonness of character, Cobb says, but we
clearly do not regard them as the same person. And commonness in what is inherited explicates only the personality which
can change, he claims, without the loss of identity.
His second argument is that a common character suggests
repetition, whereas the problem to be accounted for is novelty.
The identity of a person is the identity of a living thing, and
"the decisive feature of life is novelty and not the repetition of
past patterns." (CNT 74) Indeed, Cobb regards it a "perplexing fact" and perhaps a sign of "desperation" that
Whitehead would attempt to account for personal identity in
these terms. (CNT 74)
Accordingly, Cobb contends that the case for the adequacy
of Whitehead's categories can be made only in a development of
the second resource, the notion of a special mode of inheritance.
This is " the only satisfactory approach to personal identity
allowed by his system." (CNT 75) It is here that the "whole
burden" of explanation must rest. (CNT 74)
This special mode emphasizes a " peculiar completeness "
with which occasions of one's own past are objectified and
summed up in the immediate present. (PR 244, 531) Cobb
interprets this notion of a peculiar completeness, left undeveloped by Whitehead, in terms of unmediated hybrid prehensions of earlier members of the enduring object. Unmedi-

WHITEHEAD

AND PERSONAL

IDENTITY

513

ated prehensions are those not restricted to the immediate,
or contiguous, predecessor occasion. Such prehensions, he
claims, are unmediated because they are objectifications of
the mental rather than the physical poles.
It is precisely such direct prehensions, Cobb thinks, that
can explain the peculiar completeness to which Whitehead
referred. Through them successive occasions of the living
person have direct, unmediated access to earlier moments of
experience. Likewise, the events of yesterday, or of months or
even years ago, have in this way a direct, unmediated influence in one's self-experiencing and self-understanding of
today.
Thus the merit of this proposal, Cobb claims, is that it
permits a Whiteheadian interpretation of memory. And by
memory in this context Cobb means remembering one's past
experiences from within rather than from without. He means
remembering them as such rather than remembering something
about them. It is this notion of memory which Cobb regards as
the basic and indeed sufficient factor in one's sense of personal
identity with his past. "Only memory can serve in my selfunderstanding to determine self-identity through time." (CNT
76) Accordingly, only the second systematic resource, the
special mode of inheritance which hybrid feelings effect, can
account for personal identity.
Cobb completes his argument by extending the scope of
memory to those experiences which can be recalled under
hypnosis or through the expertise of a psychoanalyst. With this
extension he contends that " personal identity obtains whenever there is a serially ordered society of primarily mental
occasions (a soul) in which each occasion actually or potentially
prehends unmediatedly the mental poles of all its predecessors."
(CNT 79)

II
Cobb presents this account as faithful " both to Whitehead
and to normal human intuitions." (CNT 78) Unfortunately
some problems remain. One of these is raised by Cobb himself

514

JOHN B. BENNETT

and leads me in this section to an immanent criticism of the
specific way he employs the resources he identifies. The other
problem rests with the general way Cobb appropriates the
Whiteheadian resources and leads me in the next section to
more methodological comments.
Cobb calls attention to telepathy as illustrating the concept
of unmediated feeling. The problem is that telepathy suggests
that just this notion of unmediated prehension is really working
against a viable understanding of personal identity as constituted solely by memory. For any such genuine experience
of telepathy would require interpretation as an unmediated
prehension, or a remembering from within, of experiences in
that series constituting another's personal identity. But since
Cobb has defined personal identity solely in terms of memory,
those experiences of others which I directly intuit would, by
definition, become part of my own identity too. If it is my
Aunt Agatha whom I am immediately prehending, then by
Cobb's account she and I are-for however briefly-the same.
As an account of personal identity this is clearly unsatisfactory.
Cobb notes that the problem can be solved " definitionally
by appealing to the fact that the living person is serially
ordered .... " (CNT 78) But it does not appear that he has
understood the full requirements of this solution. For it involves the reintroduction of the rejected resource, the notion
of the common character. There must be a reason why in the
special mode of inheritance the objectification of past occasions
is as complete as it is. Objectification is selective. If this mode
is not arbitrary, and thus a matter of incoherence, there must
be a reason why there is such a minimum of abstraction from
the full content of the past. And the best available reason can
only be that the subjective aims of the occasions in the series
share a common underlying character.
Indeed Whitehead himself calls attention to this when he
states that " the defining characteristic of a living person is
some definite type of hybrid prehension transmitted from
occasion to occasion of its existence." (CNT 163) We can say
that the defining characteristic emerges, and is derivative from,

WHITEHEAD

AND PERSONAL

IDENTITY

515

the constituent occasions of the series. Indeed the ontological
principle requires this. One's individuality is thereby rooted
in the constituent actual occasions of his existence. But the
common character thus established requires conformal inheritance, thereby limiting the sorts of full objectification which
can also occur in that series.
It follows that the second resource, unmediated prehension,
cannot function without the first, inheritance of a common
character. And this suggests that as a ground of personal
identity, memory does not stand alone.
Now is it true, as Cobb claims, that the inheritance of a
common character suggests a kind of repetition inappropriate
to personal identity? Need repetition result in trivializing of
novelity or of mentality? Contrary to Cobb, I believe that the
transmission of this common character does not inappropriately
restrict the freedom of each member of the soul.
In the first place, even with respect to this defining characteristic, there is no predictably determinate content to any specific
occasion. There is no predictably determinate content because
the defining characteristic, as a complex eternal object, enjoys
a sort of neutrality with regard to alternative possibilities
which can express this form. There is often a wide variety of
ways that I can be myself in a certain situation, although
there may be one way more so than others. The point is that
the specific actuality, the concrete content, of the members of
that society is not prescribed by the defining characteristic.
In the second place, each occasion in the series remains
living in its capacity for conceptual initiative. The inheritance
of a common form does not take away the occasion's own
autonomy in self-creation. There is conformation to the defining characteristic, for it is genetically inherited. But such
conformation is also characterized by originality of response.
Each occasion contributes from its own being to the special
definition of its subjective forms, even those giving the series
as a whole its special characteristics. We ratify who we are
with various degrees of completeness and of enlargement in

516

JOHN B. BENNETT

each successive moment of our existence. Inheritance of a
common character does not require sacrifice of originality. 5
What about Cobb's other argument? Do twins really share
commonness of character, in the sense in which character has
here been defined? Doubtless some, perhaps many, common
characteristics are shared. But if they are twins, and not one
person, then they do not share a common defining characteristic. In the senses that we differentiate them, we ascribe
differentiated defining characteristics.
Nor is it any clearer that in every case the personality can
change without loss of identity. For some purposes we do
draw the line. The callous rapist is not the same as the
selfless choir boy he once was. There has been a tragic loss of
identity. That we still connect the two is a function of other
criteria we are applying.
Thus it appears that it is simply not correct to say, as Cobb
does, that " the whole burden of Whitehead's case must fail
on the fact of inheritance." (CNT 74) There are at least two
resources: a character transmitted and a special mode of
inheriting. As Whitehead asserts, the "concrete moments" of
a living person "are bound together into one society by a
partial identity of form, and by the peculiarly full summation
of its predecessors which each moment of the life-history
gathers into itself." 6

III
The example of the choir-boy-turned-rapist
suggests that
personal identity is something we ascribe on the basis of various
criteria. Some of these may well be in conflict with others.
Arguments to adjudicate them are then in order. At this point
5 A complete response to Cobb on this issue would involve consideration
of the
body. The condition for spontaneity is intense physical experience. "But such
an experience is derivate from the complex order of the material animal body,
and not from the simple 'personal order ' of past occasions with analogous
experience." (PR 161)
• Symbolism, Its Meaning and Effect (New York:
Capricorn Books, 1959),
p. 27, my italics. Subsequent references to this work are abbreviated as S and
incorporated within the text.

WHITEHEAD

AND PERSONAL

IDENTITY

517

I feel some uneasiness about the way Cobb is appropriating
Whitehead's thought. It is as though he understands that the
categories constructed in Process and Reality release us from
arguments. Attractive though such a possibility is, I find it
unpersuasive. Some illustrations may help expose and focus
the difficulty I sense in Cobb's procedure.
One illustration has to do with the " normal human intuitions" to which Cobb refers in speaking of personal identity.
Surely any statement of these is important and as such
demands careful analysis. But Cobb, after noting that the
body changes-though not enough to give us difficulty in
identifying it-is content to assert that "it is highly questionable that we would correlate closely the identity of the person
and the actual identity of the body." (CNT 72) Now certainly
the body figures very heavily in most criteria to which we
would appeal in judging personal identity. Why should it be
otherwise when we are using Whitehead's categories?
A second illustration of the weakness of Cobb's procedure is
to be found in the unacknowledged shift in his study from
the grounds on which I ascribe or refuse to ascribe personal
identity to others, to those I use in speaking of my own
personal identity. The first person singular pronoun has a
logically different referent and use from the second person
singular pronoun. This logical difference is not obviated by
the categoreal scheme. It requires the recognition and appreciation of logically different criteria.
However, with the rejection of common character as a
resource, Cobb's whole treatment of personal identity involves the assumption that it rests only upon memory.
Accordingly his analysis culminates in a definition in which it
is asserted that " personal identity obtains whenever there is
a serially ordered society .... " (CNT 79, my italics)
Although Cobb's procedure suggests otherwise, Whitehead's
categories do not release us from arguments about criteria and
context. To attempt to establish personal identity qna personal
identity, with no further specifications, is a fruitless effort.
As Whitehead noted, the proper question is, Identity is respect

518

JOHN B. BENNETT

to what? " The baby in the cradle and the grown man in
middle age, are in some sense identical and in other senses
diverse." 1 What we intend when we speak of personal identity
shifts from context to context. Our requirements are richly
textured and variegated. Whiteheadian accounts ought to
recognize this.

IV
In issues of this sort Whitehead's system of categories can
provide a context of theory in which we can express without
contradiction the many facts we acknowledge in practice. We
acknowledge the fact of personal identity in different ways.
In practice the fact appears in different perspectives. These
different ways and perspectives are reflected in the various
criteria to which we appeal in declaring that some person,
ourself or another, is in relevant respects the same today as
he was earlier. For instance, we may appeal to bodily characteristics, skills, or mannerisms, or to memory, dispositions, or
intentions, or to still other criteria. No one of these would
seem to be by itself all that we use to ascribe personal identity
or to indicate its meaning.
Whitehead's system is adequate to the fact of personal
identity to the degree that it permits interpretations of these
perspectives, relating them to each other and to other facts of
our experience. The scheme of categories is adequate if it is
rich and fertile enough to provide the necessary resources. Corresponding to the variety of ways in which we speak of personal
identity, there should be a variety of different systematic
explanations that can be brought to bear.
In the remainder of this essay let us look briefly at what
this sort of interpretation might involve. We shall consider
dispositions, memory, and intentional action as ways in which
we speak of personal identity. To this end we need to return
to the two resources mentioned earlier. We need also to recall
what Whitehead said of Descartes' cogito argument: " the
'he' which is common to the ... egos is an eternal object
7

Modes of Thought (New York:

Capricorn Books, 1958), p. 146.

WHITEHEAD

AND PERSONAL

IDENTITY

519

or, alternatively, the nexus of successive occasions." (PR 116)
Sometimes by a personal pronoun we mean a character
sustained over a stretch of time, or, in Whitehead's terms,
a complex eternal object ingredient in a succession of events.
At other times we may have in mind the history of the person,
the succession of occasions in which that eternal object is
ingredient. The two resources reflect these two perspectives.
With the one resource, the common character, we emphasize
the complex eternal object definitive of the series. When
speaking of the special completeness of transmission, we are
drawing attention to the soul as a nexus.
Now the soul has as its defining characteristic " some
definite type of hybrid prehension transmitted from occasion
to occasion of its existence." (PR 163) Each hybrid prehension
characterizing the living person has a distinctive datum and a
distinctive subjective form. Because it is a hybrid prehension,
the datum is a form of definiteness prehended as a possibility
rather than as a physically illustrated pattern. Because the
datum is a possibility, the subjective form is a valuation. By
categoreal obligation there will be reproduction of the data.
Since it is a physical feeling, there will be conformation of
subjective forms.
Antecedent occasions impose upon successive ones these
common elements of definiteness to be conformally inherited.
In a living person these possibilities and valuations, derived
from the past, are structured, thereby gaining intensity and
efficacy through reinforcement. Together they come to constitute the defining characteristic of the living person. This
common character enters integrally into each of the successive
occasions, determining what is and what is not compatible for
objectification.
If we emphasize the valuations as definitive of the series,
then we are urging that personal identity is a function of the
continuity of the purposes, appetitions, or, more generally,
dispositions which characterize the person. Quite often we do
speak of personal identity in this fashion. There are patterns
of behavior which identify us as the persons we are. There are

JOHN B. BENNETT

fundamental valuations which distinguish us and thereby separate us from others.
To return to more systematic terms, there is empowerment
of the present by the immanence of the past. The various
appetitions and valuations of the living person are all informed
by, and are particular specifications of, that complex eternal
object giving the series as a whole its stability of direction
and identification with the past. This specific complex can be
actualized in a variety of ways in a variety of situations. But
as it floods into each concrescing occasion in the series, it
determines that present as in some way a continuation of
itself. " The man-at-one-moment concentrates in himself the
colour of his own past, and he is the issue of it." (S
To be sure, this factor of " colour " is not all to which we
would point in accounting for personal identity. "The how
of our present experience must conform to the what of the
past in us." (S 58) This " what " is not simply valuation. The
" he " which is common to the occasions in the series can also
refer to the nexus of successive occasions. Here the element of
identity appears as the connectedness of occasions with their
reiterated content. In addition to disposition there is also
memory. The scheme of categories can interpret both.
As a third ground of personal identity there is that special
sense of identity we invoke when we speak of intention and its
execution. It is to this notion that Stuart Hampshire, for
instance, appeals in speaking of personal identity. "·we carry
our intentions with us, and this carrying forward of intentions,
together with the perception of movement, provides the natural
and necessary continuity of our experience." 8 Vve are who we
are, we may say, because we intend some of the things we
do, as well as because we do some of the things we intend.
This awareness is not simply of past experiences. That would
be mere memory. It is rather the awareness of the present
realization of past intention.
Whitehead's account of this reason for claiming identity
8

Thought and Action (New York:

The Viking Press, 1959), p. 72 ..

WHITEHEAD

AND PERSONAL

IDENTITY

521

would involve the eighth categoreal obligation and the aim at
intensity of feeling in the relevant future as well as in the
immediate subject. In the later phases of the concrescence
of the immediate subject, anticipatory propositional feelings
emerge, functioning as lures for feeling. Part of this " anticipation of kinship with the future assumes the form of purpose
to transform concept into fact." (AI 250) The future will
prehend the past as having intended some factor in it. In
this way there will be present awareness of past intentions as
Jealized or not. Either way there is some explanation of the
notion of identity involved. 9
In ways such as these, Whitehead's scheme can be used to
present interpretations of personal identity. There is more
than one ground for ascribing personal identity. And there is
more than one systematic resource for interpreting the personal
identity thus ascribed. His categories are not to supplant the
various modes of discourse in which these senses of identity are
presented. They are rather to render systematic interpretations
of the features of experience these other modes disclose. In
interpretations of personal identity, Whitehead's categories
should be able to provide clear, systematic senses to the notion
that a person is present in and through his experiences and
so enjoys personal identity.
JoHN B. BENNETT

Northland College
Ashland, Wisconsin

9 For an application
of this notion of the soul to the problem of agency, see my
"Process or Agent: A Response" in Philosophy of Religion and Theology:
1972, ed. David Griffin (Chambersburg, Pennsylvania:
American Academy of
Religion, 1972), pp. 146-159.

ARISTOTLE'S DOCTRINE OF THE UNMOVED MOVER

O

NE OF THE PERENNIAL problems in Aristotelian
studies is the difficulty of reconciling Aristotle's
the
account of the unmoved mover-particularly
number of unmoved movers-presented
variously in the
Physics and in book lambda of the Metaphysics. Numerous
explanations have been offered, most of which either explain
too little or too much. The result is that Aristotle is either
left enmeshed in hopeless contradiction, or his unmoved mover
is something less than was understood by his medieval interpreters.
The thesis of this study is that the distinctions made in the
Physics, particularly Book VIII, must be applied to Aristotle's
discussion of the unmoved mover in Metaphysics lambda. In
making this claim I am aware that any successful attempt at
exegesis must take into account both the textual problems in
the Physics and Metaphysics and recent attempts to interpret
the unmoved mover as a principle of intelligibility analogous
to scientific " laws."
ARISTOTLE's

ARGUMENT

The argument for the existence of the unmoved mover is
found in chapter 1 of Book VIII of the Physics and is based
on Aristotle's proofs, for the eternality of motion. Here is how
the argument goes: Motion is the fulfillment of the movable
qua movable. Motion presupposes the existence of things
capable of motion. Furthermore, these movable things must
have a beginning, or else they are eternal. To say that movable
things had a beginning is to say that there was a motion, or
change, before there was anything capable of being moved,
which is absurd. Therefore, motion did not have a beginning.
The same kind of argument is used to prove the imperish-

ARISTOTLE'S

DOCTRINE

OF THE UNMOVED

MOVER

ability of motion. To posit a motion that destroys motion
would involve one in an infinite series of destroyers, for
the destructive agent will have to be destroyed, after what it
destroys has been destroyed, and then that which had the capacity
of destroying it will have to be destroyed afterwards, (so that
there will. be a process of change subsequent to the last,) for being
destroyed also is a kind of change. 1

Eternal motion must be continuous motion, for motion that is
merely successive is not eternal. There are three kinds of
motion: (1) rectilinear, (9l) rotary, and (3) a combination of
the two. Rectilinear motion cannot be continuous, for a
straight line has a beginning and an end; a rectilinear motion
would involve a turning back at its terminal points. 2 Infinite
rectilinear motion is impossible because the universe is finite,
and an actually infinite body cannot exist. 3 Since rectilinear
motion cannot be continuous, neither can " mixed " motion be
continuous, for the latter is continuous only if both elements
are continuous. Rotary motion, however, is not subject to the
limits of rectilinear motion, for in circular motion there is no
beginning point and no terminal point. Rotary motion, therefore, is primary and continuous. 4
From the eternality of motion Aristotle argues for the
existence of the unmoved first mover. A good Platonic principle
that Aristotle applies here is that " all things that are in
motion must be moved by something." 5 This is possible in
either of two ways: either the movent moves itself, or else it
is moved by another. If the former is true, we have already
reached the eternal, self-moving principle. If the latter is true,
we likewise arrive at an eternal self-mover, for an infinite
regress is impossible.
1 Physics
Iff. Cf. Metaphysics 107Ib 5-10. All quototions from the Physics
are from the translation by R. P. Hardie and R. K. Gay•e; citations from the
Metaphysics are from the translation by W. D. Ross. Both translations (tre included
in The Basic Works of Aristotle (New York: Random House, 1941).
• Physics 259• 15-20.
• Ibid., 206• 1-7.
• Ibid., 265• 14ff.
• Ibid., 256•

524

DAVID STEW ART

If then everything that is in motion must be moved by something,
and the movent must either itself be moved by something else or
not, and in the former case there must be some first movent that is
not itself moved by anything else, while in the case of the immediate
movent being of this kind there is no need of an intermediate
movent that is also moved (for it is impossible that there should
be an infinite series of movents, each of which is itself moved by
something else, since in an infinite series there is no first term)if then everything that is in motion is moved by something, and
the first movent is moved but not by anything else, it must be
moved by itself. 6

A similar argument is repeated in chapter 6 of Metaphysics
lambda, based on the priority of act over potency.
Thus far, both the Physics and Metaphysics are in agreement. In both treatises Aristotle recognizes the eternality of
motion. From this he argues for the existence of an eternal,
incorruptible unmoved mover. His remaining problem is to
discover the number of such movers. Is there only one, or a
plurality?
TEXTUAL

CoNSIDERATIONS

That the text of both the Physics and the Metaphysics has
suffered emendations and interpolations is beyond doubt.
In his monumental study, Aristoteles, Grundlegung einer Geschichte seiner Entwicklung, Werner Jaeger isolated several
passages in both the Physics and Metaphysics that were not
part of the original works. Since these passages are central to
an understanding of Aristotle's doctrine of the unmoved mover,
it is important to look briefly at them. 7
Interpolations in the "Physics"
The first addition in the Physics that is significant for this
study is in Book VIII, Ch. 6 (258b 10). Aristotle here states
the conclusion of a proof for the existence of an unmoved
mover. "Since there must always be motion without inter• Ibid., 256• 18-20.
• The English translation of this work will hereafter be cited. Werner Jaeger,
Aristotle, Trans. Richard Robinson, second edition (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1948).

ARISTOTLE's

DOCTRINE

OF THE UNMOVED

MOVER

525

mission, there must necessarily be something, one thing or
it may be a plurality, that first imparts motion, and this first
movent must be unmoved." Jaeger insists that grammatical
considerations prove that the phrase, " one thing or it may be
a plurality," is a later addition. 8
The second addition is found at 259a 7-13. "Motion, then,
being eternal, the first movent, if there is but one, will be
eternal also: if there are more than one, there will be a
plurality of such eternal movents." Jaeger notes that not only
is this statement tautological, it is also stylistically distinct,
and the succeedings lines (159a 15 ff.) do not presuppose the
disputed passage. 9
The third interpolation is at 259b 28-31.
We must distinguish, however, between accidental motion of a
thing by itself and such motion by something else, the former being
confined to perishable things, whereas the latter belongs also to
certain first principles of heavenly bodies, of all those, that is to
say, that experience more than one locomotion.

The implicit assumption here seems to be that each planetary
sphere requires a mover, and each sphere is moved accidentally.
Jaeger argues that the passage is an addition, basing his conclusion partially on linguistic grounds and partially on contextual considerations. 10 These three additions in chapter 6 of
book VIII are the only relevant passages under question. 11

Interpolations in the "Metaphysics"
Basing his arguments on the earlier conclusions of Bonitz,
Jaeger insists that book lambda is not the intended conclusion
8 Jaeger, Aristotle, p. 362.
• Ibid., p. 363.
10 Ibid., pp. 364ff.
11 G. Verbeke, in the Revue philosophique de Louvain 46 (1948), p. 151, argues
that chapter 1 of book VIII of the Physics (dealing with the eternality of motion)

was originally an independent treatise that was added later. That this is far from
conclusive is shown by Professor Fredrich Solmsen, Aristotle's System of the
Physical World (Ithaca:
Cornell University Press, 1960), p. 224, n. 8. "It is
correct that ch. 3 does not make use of the conclusions reached in ch. 1. Yet are
not the opinions combated in ch. 3 sufficiently different from those opposed in eh.
I? The question of ch. 3 is no longer whether movement had a beginning."

526

DAVID STEW ART

of the Metaphysics. 12 He argues that originally the Metaphysics was only a ten-book collection which omitted books
alpha minor, delta, kappa, and lambda. Jaeger further argues
that book lambda was originally an independent workpossibly a lecture on metaphysics which was composed for
some special occasion, a " complete system of metaphysics in
nuce " 13 -basing these conclusions not only on an analysis of
the argument of book lambda but also upon its stylistic
characteristics. He observes that book lambda is unusually
brief, even for Aristotle, and employs a style foreign to the
rest of the Metaphysics: " It contains only the main points,
sketchily put together, sometimes merely jotted down one after
the other with a recurring 'Note, next, that ... ,' and bare
of all stylistic polish in detail." 14
There is one exception to this, however. In chapter 8
Aristotle considers the problem of whether there is only one
unmoved mover or a plurality. The chapter is fully out,
unlike the rest of book lambda which is a marvel of what
Jaeger calls "Aristotelian brevity." 15 Not only is chapter 8
stylistically incongruous with the rest of the book, it also
interrupts the train of thought in chapters 7 and 9. Chapter 7
considers the divine characteristics of the unmoved mover;
chapter 9 begins with the words, " the nature of the divine
thought involves certain problems .... " Jaeger is right when
he observes that "chapter 9 interrupts this continuous train
of thought and breaks it into two parts. Remove it, and
chapters 7 and 9 fit smoothly together." 16
These difficulties are further compounded by the fact that
within chapter 8 there is a passage which is assumed to be a
later addition. It is found at 1074a 31-38.
Evidently there is but one heaven. For if there are many
heavens as there are many men, the moving principles, of which
each heaven will have one, will be one in form but in number
many. But all things that are many in number have matter; for
one and the same definition, e. g., that of a man, applies to many
Jaeger, Amtotle,
Ibid., p. 219.
H Ibid., p. 344.

10

18

p. 194.

15
16

Ibid., p. 345.
Ibid., p. 346.

ARISTOTLE's

DOCTRINE

OF THE UNMOVED

MOVER

527

things, while Socrates is one. But the primary essence has not
matter; for it is complete reality. So the unmovable first mover is
one both in definition and in number; so too, therefore, is that
which is moved always and continuously; therefore there is one
heaven alone.
Jaeger argues, on linguistic grounds, that this passage is an
addition, noting that " with its first words, ' evidently there
is but one heaven,' another style begins, and with the last
word of the insertion, ' therefore there is one heaven alone,' it
ceases again." 17 The style of this passage, Jaeger states, "is
the same shorthand style as obtains in the rest of Book A, and
contrasts sharply with the impeccable language of chapter 8." 18
Jaeger also points out that the grammatical connection of the
preceding and succeeding sections is disturbed by the addition
of lines 31-38. Furthermore, it seems explicitly to contradict
Aristotle's earlier contention that there is but one unmoved
mover. Jaeger's conclusion is that this passage was originally
a marginal comment, a piece of self-criticism, which Aristotle's
"faithful editors " introduced into the text. 19
The upshot of all this is that the passages most relevant
to a study of the Aristotelian doctrine of the unmoved mover
are questionable, to say the least. There is good evidence, on
linguistic grounds alone, to assume that the three previously
discussed passages in Physics VIII were not part of the original
work. There also is good evidence, both on contextual and
linguistic grounds, for believing that book lambda, perhaps originally a separate treatise, was not included in the earliest
formulation of the Metaphysics.
The evidence, however, for insisting that chapter 8 is a
later insert is not conclusive. The Dutch scholar, Augustine
Nolte, suggests that at this point Aristotle was on unfamiliar
ground and that the more fluent style of the chapter simply
indicates that he was here following material previously worked
out by astronomers. 20 Whether or not lines 1074a 31-38 of
Ibid., p. 353.
Ibid.
19 Ibid.
20 Augustinus Nolte, Het Godsbegrip bij Aristoteles (Nijmegen-Utrecht:

17
18

Dekker

5Q8

DAVID STEW ART

chapter 8 disrupt the unity of the chapter is likewise subject
to dispute. Jaeger feels that this passage involved Aristotle in
contradictions. 21 Joseph Owens, on the other hand, insists that
this passage, which proves the unity of the universe, is vital to
the arguments of the chapter.
If the change in style must mark it as a later addition, it could have
been added subsequently by Aristotle to take care of an actual or
possible challenge to the basis of his reasoning. That would explain
the abrupt and precise style. In any case, the literary connection
with the preceding sentence is quite smooth. 22

These conflicting interpretations indicate emphatically that the
textual evidence is far from certain, even though Jaeger makes
a strong case for his textual analysis.
The significant factor in all this is that, even given Jaeger's
textual analysis, it can be scarcely doubted that all the passages
in question are from the pen of Aristotle. Jaeger's thesis is
that Aristotle originally began with the theory of one, primal
unmoved mover, which is reflected in the earliest versions of
the Physics and Metaphysics. Astronomy, however, convinced
him that " the hypothesis of a single uniform ultimate motion
was too primitive to account for the complications of the actual
heavenly motions .... " 23 So Aristotle turned to astronomy for
an explication of the actual number of first principles. A
further implication of Jaeger's view is that the emended
& Van de Vegt V. N., 1940), pp. 147-48. cited by Joseph Owens in The Doctrine of
Being in the Aristotelian Metaphysics (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval
Studies, 1951), p. 415, n. 36. Owens adds that Nolte holds that this chaper is nol
a later addition and accounts for the difference in style by Aristotle's need to have
before him the exact statements of the astronomers.
21 Jaeger, Aristotle, p. 353.
•• Owens, op. cit., pp. 282-83. Concerning this passage, Owens continues: " So
if it is a later insert, it is more likely something written expressly for this place,
as Jaeger thinks, rather than a previously composed remnant as in v. Arnim's
theory." [Hans von Arnim held that this passage had no connection whatsoever
with the surrounding text.] I think here that Owens slightly misunderstands
Jaeger. Jaeger did not argue that this addition was expressly prepared for this
section but was rather a piece of " self-criticism " which Aristotle jotted in the
margin and did not intend to be included in the text itself.
•• Jaeger, Aristotle, pp. 350-51.

ARISTOTLE's

DOCTRINE

OF THE UNMOVED

MOVER

529

sections in Physics VIII come from a period of doubt "when
Aristotle, though seriously considering the possibility of extending the principle of the prime mover to the planetary spheres,
still hesitates to draw this consequence." 24 Jaeger concludes
that the addition of book lambda to the Metaphysics was only
a "makeshift" arrangement which indicated Aristotle's dissatisfaction with his earlier formulation. At this point Aristotle
"was wrestling with these problems anew and failing to solve
them .... " 25
Chapter 8 of book lambda must then be seen as an earlier
version of Aristotle's attempt to solve the perplexing problem
of the first principles, and even if it was an editorial addition
to book lambda, it was doubtless from the pen of Aristotle
himself. The disputed comments at 1074a 31 ff. were marginalia
-Aristotle's own "self-criticism "-which were later incorporated into the text by subsequent editors. Such are the conclusions of Jaeger. The willingness of Aristotle to adapt his
earlier theory of one prime mover to the demands of astronomy
for a plurality of planetary movers indicates Aristotle's devotion to what Jaeger calls his "unbending sense of fact." 26
But Jaeger argues that this revision led Aristotle into hopeless
contradiction.
This is really the point at issue. Assuming the text to be
genuinely Aristotelian, though agreeing with Jaeger that it
probably underwent several redactions, must one conclude as
Jaeger does that Aristotle contradicted himself? Is there no
way to reconcile the apparent conflict between Physics VIII
and Metaphysics lambda? Or must one say that in his old age
Aristotle suffered a period of intellectual senility which allowed
him blandly to overlook a manifest contradiction in his revision
of earlier positions?
THE NuMBER

OF UNMOVED

MovERS

If Jaeger is right, and there is no good reason to contest him
on this point, Aristotle began with his theory of one eternal
•• Ibid., p. 357.

25

Ibid., p. 354.

•• Ibid., p. 351.

530

DAVID STEW ART

unmoved mover and later made additions to the text in order
to accommodate the findings and demands of astronomy. The
perennial question is whether Aristotle contradicted himself in
so doing. In the Phyf!ics, Book VIII, chapter 6, the first two
interpolations merely suggest the possibility of more than one
unmoved mover. In the third interpolation Aristotle introduces
the self-movers of the heavenly bodies and remarks that there
is a self-mover for each planetary sphere. Then in chapter 8
of M etaphyf!ics lambda, which originally did not include the
passage at 1074a 31-38, Aristotle assumes the probable existence of a plurality of unmoved movers-one for each planetary
sphere. In Jaeger's account, Aristotle, having advanced his
theory of the plurality of movers, jotted down in the margin
a note in favor of the uniqueness of the prime mover which
Aristotle's " faithful editors" later introduced into the text
where it remains as a contradiction to the arguments in the rest
of the chapter. 27 I£ this addition does contradict the rest of the
chapter, as Jaeger insists, perhaps one would agree with Professor Guthrie that it was added by a " not too intelligent
editor." 28
On the face of it, Jaeger's theory accounts for the interpolated passages; but there is still something unsatisfying about
accusing Aristotle of being so clumsy in his revision of these
portions of the Phyf!ics and M etaphyf!ics. Does it not seem
strange that Aristotle would have allowed one interpolation
three lines long (Phyf!ics 259b 28-30) to suffice as a revision
of his entire theory of the unity of the unmoved mover? I£
Aristotle were revising his theory to include the existence of
a plurality of prime unmoved movers, does it not seem as
though this would have called for a more drastic revision of
the eighth book of the Phyf!ics?
Does it not likewise seem strange that Aristotle would have
left chapter 8 of Metaphyf!ics lambda in such a condition that
•• Ibid., p. 353.
W. K. C. Guthrie, "The Development of Aristotle's Theology- II" The
Classical Quarterly (New York and London: The Classical Association) XXVIII
28

(1934), p. 97.

ARISTOTLE's

DOCTRINE

OF THE UNMOVED

MOVER

531

a "self-critical" note in the margin would contradict the
arguments of the entire chapter? And is it not equally difficult
to believe that Aristotle's "faithful editors" understood him
so imperfectly that they introduced a glaring contradiction into
the body of the text? If one accepts Jaeger's interpretation,
viz., that Aristotle is changing from a belief in only one prime
unmoved mover to a plurality of prime unmoved movers, he
is left with no choice but to insist that Aristotle is enmeshed
in flagrant contradiction. If, on the other hand, one can find
an interpretation that does justice to the text but avoids the
alleged contradiction, so much the better for Aristotle.
RANDALL's

SoLUTION

One fairly recent, and obviously attractive, solution to this
difficulty is offered by Professor Randall in his book on
Aristotle/ 9 in which he argues that the unmoved movers are
really principles of intelligibility analogous to Newton's laws
of motion. By this interpretation he attempts to extricate
Aristotle from the difficulties in which traditional interpretations have entangled him by insisting that much of Aristotle's
language is metaphorical and even mythical.
Randall argues that Aristotle's First Philosophy, i.e., the
science of any existent as existent, sustained a relation to Aristotle's physics analogous to the relation of mathematics and
mathematical logic to modern physics. He characterizes mathematics and logic as the " metaphysics " of modern science in the
Aristotelian sense of" first philosophy." Contemporary mathematics sets forth the formal structure or order which makes
natural processes intelligible. " In very much the same sense,"
Randall argues, "Aristotle's First Philosophy is the 'metaphysics' growing out of his logic and biology .... " 30
Given this view of Aristotle's metaphysics, it is a small step
Aristotle (New York: Columbia University Press,
•• John Herman Randall.
1960). For an excellent critical review of Randall's book, see Troy Organ,
"Randall's lnterpretation
of Aristotle's Unmov•ed Mover," The Philosophical
Quarterly 12 (October, 1962), pp. 3-11.
80 Randall, Aristotle, p. 110.

582

DAVID STEW ART

to conclude that the first mover of Metaphysics lambda is
only a principle of intelligibility. Randall correctly points out
that for Aristotle motion has no efficient cause, but it must
have a "reason why," a Oto r£; and to discover this "reason
why " is not to attempt to find a cause of motion but rather
to discover its function. Randall asks:
How are we to understand the fact that it is motion, and only
motion, that " causes" motion, world without end? The answer to
this question will be a principle of intelligibility: it will be the
arche of motion. In our own physics, motion is understood in terms
of the "laws of motion," Newtonian or Einsteinian. Aristotle's
answer, the Unmoved Mover, is just such an answer to just such
a question: it is the Aristotelian counterpart of Newton's principia
mathematica of motion, the laws of motion, the laws of motion of
the science of dynamics. 31
One fact that Randall uses to support his view is that the
unmoved mover is not a creator either of motion or of anything
else. From this Randall concludes that " it is a logical explanation, not a physical cause, a natural law, not a force ....
It is an arche, a principle of intelligibility, a ' reason why.' " 32
Because Randall views the unmoved mover as a principle
of intelligibility rather than a physical cause, he insists that
it is a principle of physics rather than a principle of metaphysics. " Book Lambda," he says, " thus has no real place in
Aristotle's metaphysics, taken as his mature First Philosophy."
Randall goes on to assert that it has no place in theology
either and "is not to be identified with' God,' in any Moslem,
Jewish, or Christian sense." 33 The reasons Randall gives for
this are that the unmoved mover does not create anything; it
does not sustain the world; in fact, it does not even know the
world and does not have the power of intelligence in the' sense
in which man is intelligent.
Randall concludes that since Aristotle's unmoved mover has
no power, no knowledge, and no moral or religious relevance;
inasmuch as there are really fifty-five unmoved movers corresponding to the fifty-five heavenly motions to be explained;
11

Ibid., p. 184.

82

Ibid., p. 135.

88

Ibid., p. 136.

ARISTOTLE'S

DOCTRINE

OF THE UNMOVED

MOVER

533

and since the unmoved mover is a purely intellectual idea and
" the mature Aristotle did not understand and apparently had
no interest in investigating " religion, it is a " colossal irony "
that the medieval tradition made use of Aristotle's thought. 34
Obviously Randall interprets book lambda in purely naturalistic terms, a task which he must reconcile with the language
of the book. For there can be little doubt that the terminology
of book lambda is not the language of a scientist-a fact
to which Randall agrees. He observes that Aristotle was in
general a poor writer, and his language is usually technical.
There are, however, a few passages which exhibit what Randall
calls " artistic form," among which is " One swallow does not
make a summer," the eloquent passages in the Ethics on
friendship, and the description of the unmoved mover in book
lambda. Randall argues that, although Aristotle's thought is
thol'oughly naturalistic, his feelings and em(otions in book
lambda clearly are not. He admits that the language and metaphors-even the " religious exaltation "-are all theistic; but
they are to be compared to statements such as Dante's line,
"'Tis Love that makes the world go round!" 35
Randall retreats somewhat from his earlier contention that
the unmoved mover is comparable to Newton's laws of motion,
for to Aristotle it would be unintelligible to talk in terms of
blind forces of nature, such as Newtonian inertia. For rationalists like Aristotle (and Whitehead), "there must be a force
like 'love '-desire, aspiration, the striving toward perfection.
That is what makes men go round; and if men are a fair
sampling of nature, that may be what makes nature go round
too." 36 Randall argues that there are two " logics " interacting
here-the "logic of perfection," the logic of the lover's discourse and the " logic of existence," the logic of physics and
natural science. Randall's conclusion is that Aristotle unites
the two " logics " in the language of myth, analogous to the
"likely language" of Plato's Timaeus. "The Unmoved l\1over
may well be called a Platonic myth, like the ' Active Intellect '
•• Ibid.

85

Ibid., p. 188.

86

Ibid., pp. 188-89.

534

DAVID STEW ART

of the De Anima." 87 The mythical element is not the positing
of fifty-five separate unmoved movers-this is to be taken
literally-but rather the unification of them into a single
cosmic unmoved mover.
But if God is the highest activity in the world, what must
he be? Aristotle himself answers that this activity must be
pure understanding, pure nous. Randall adds: "For Aristotle,
indeed for any Greek, the perfected functioning of nou.<f must
be a 'life.' It is ' the life of nous,' the 'life of reason': that
is, nous eternally present to the highest object it can conceive,
itself.'' as Randall then poses two additional questions: (I)
Does God exist "apart from" the world? and (2) Where is
nous actualized? In answer to the first question, Randall says
that to be consistent Aristotle would have to answer" No, God
could not possibly exist apart from the world. God is the form
of the world's matter, the energeia and entelecheia of its
dynameis, and he would be nothing without the world in which
he is an essential factor.'' 39 In answer to the second question,
Randall argues that nous, i.e., the unmoved mover, does not
sustain a separate, ideal existence. He states, "To be consistent, Aristotle must answer " that nous is actualized only
" in the minds of men.'' 40
Randall's interpretation of book lambda of the lJ!letaphysics
must be challenged at several points. The most basic of these
is that his understanding of what metaphysics was for Aristotle
is faulty. It is just not the case that modern mathematics
and mathematical logic sustain the same relation to contemporary physics that Aristotle's First Philosophy sustained to
his philosophy of nature. In the first place, mathematics today
is used in theory construction and in axiomatiza.tion. Foundational mathematics is postulated as a mathematical model, and
mathematicians do not (or at least should not) claim that they
are accounting for the most general features of reality. 41 InIbid., p. 141.
Ibid., p. 142. Cf. Metaphysics 1074b 30.
•• Ibid., p. 143. citing Metaphysics 1075• ll-15.
•• Ibid .. p. 144.
41 I owe this observation
to J. M. E. Moravcsik's review of Randall's book in
Archiv fUr Geschichte der Philosophie 44 (1962), pp. 204-09.
87

88

ARISTOTLE's

DOCTRINE

OF THE UNMOVED

MOVER

535

deed, many modern logicians think that an attempt to uncover
the nature of ultimate reality is not only outside the realm of
mathematics, it is impossible. For Aristotle, on the other hand,
First Philosophy was foundational science-the science of being
qua being-and was his attempt to investigate the nature of
the most general and ultimate reality. If modern mathematicians are offended today by metaphysics, they will be
offended by Aristotle's First Philosophy as well.
Randall is perfectly justified in his insistence that Aristotle
was a naturalist. But Randall goes too far when he assumes
that it is impossible for a naturalist to be at all interested in
theology or to include within his metaphysics any reference to
a supreme substance.
consistently interprets all references in Aristotle to the unmoved mover as purely " artistic
form " or a mythical union of the logics of perfection and
existence. Yet one fact that Randall seems to overlook-and
this is devastating to his interpretation-is that Aristotle seemingly did not wish to continue the mythical explanations of his
predecessors. In chapter 8 of lambda, after describing the unity
of the prime mover, Aristotle adds what is almost a footnote:
Our forefathers in the most remote ages have handed down to
their posterity a tradition, in the form of a myth, that these bodies
are gods and that the divine encloses the whole of nature. The
rest of the tradition has been added later in mythical form with a
view to the persuasion of the multitude and to its legal and
utilitarian expedience; they say these gods are in the form of men
or like some of the other animals, and they say other things consequent on and similar to these which we have mentioned. But if
one were to separate the first point from these additions and
take it alone-that they thought the first substances to be gods,
one must regard this as an inspired utterance. . . .42

Aristotle's intention seems perfectly clear: he wishes to demythologize the ancient traditions, stripping away the personifications, especially the anthropomorphisms and the anthropopathisms that were added. But he retains the central insight
that the first substances are divine, i.e., they are gods. The
•• Metaphysics 1074b 1-10.

5::16

DAVID STEW ART

term " theology " is used in book lambda to describe First
Philosophy, but it is used in book epsilon the same way.' 3
While discarding the mythical element in the ancient traditions,
Aristotle did not go so far as to strip the first movers of their
divine status. Obviously Aristotle did not consider calling the
first movers " gods " a mythical use of language.
Consider also Randall's contention that the unmoved mover
cannot exist apart from the world. I£ the unmoved mover is
just a principle of intelligibility, it may be the case that God
is only the form of the world's matter. In other words, the
notion that the unmoved mover is only the energeia and
entelecheia of the world's dynameis depends upon Randall's
insistence that the first mover is only a principle of intelligibility. Aristotle insisted that motion was eternal and selfsufficient; consequently the unmoved mover would likewise be
eternal and self-sufficient. Randall, in effect, denies this Aristotelian doctrine when he insists that nous is actualized only
in the minds of men. I£ the unmoved mover could not exist
apart from the world, it would be the case that the first mover
is contingent. But this is not Aristotle's doctrine. He explicitly
states:
The first mover, then, exists of necessity; and in so far as it
exists by necessity, its mode of being is good, and it is in this sense
a first principle .... On such a principle, then, depend the heavens
and the world of nature. 44

The unmoved mover is more than the actuality of the
world's potentiality. It is true that he is the "order of the
parts " of the universe, but he is this by virtue of sustaining a
separate existence from the world, just as the general of an
army sustains a separate existence from the troops. The unmoved mover is not simply the esprit de corps, as Randall
would have it; he is the commandant, to extend the metaphor,
who is not only a principle of order but a separate existent.
Randall seems to misinterpret the very passage he cites, in
defense of his contention that God cannot exist apart from
the world.
•• Ibid., 1025b-I026• 33.

•• Ibid., 1072b 10-14

ARISTOTLE'S

DOCTRINE

OF THE UNMOVED

MOVER

537

A further argument against the view that, for Aristotle, nous
is actualized only in the minds of men is chapter 7 of book
lambda which describes the nature of nous.
If, then, God is always in that good state in which we sometimes
are, this compels our wonder; and if in a, better state this compels
it yet more. And God is in a better state. And life also belongs to
God; for the actuality of thought is life, and God is that actuality;
and God's self-dependent actuality is life most good and eternal.
We say therefore that God is a living being, eternal, most good,
so that life and duration continuous and eternal belong to God;
for this is God.45
Randall would probably insist that this is mere poetic language,
the point of which is that the unmoved mover is an ideal which
transcends the world as its ideal end. It is true that the first
mover is an ideal which transcends the world, but this can be
only by virtue of the fact that the first mover sustains a
separate existence from the world. Aristotle is explicit on this
point in his conclusion to chapter 7 of book lambda. " It is
clear, then, from what has been said, that there is a substance
which is eternal and unmovable and separate from sensible
things." 46 On the basis of this text, it is impossible to conclude
that the first mover is only a principle of intelligibility actualized in the minds of men.
Perhaps part of the attractiveness Randall's solution offers
is that it provides a way of reconciling the problem of the
number of unmoved movers as presented in the Physics and
Metaphysics. But it does so at the expense of distorting the
explicit statements of Aristotle. It is one thing to come to a
study of Aristotle from the problems of twentieth-century
logicians and American pragmatists. It is quite another thing
to remake Aristotle into a twentieth-century naturalist.
TowARD A RAPPROCHEMENT

A better solution to the difficulty of resolving the question
of the number of unmoved movers would be to find a way to
make Aristotle consistent without introducing naturalistic
•• Ibid., 1072b 24-29.

•• Ibid., 1078• 8-4.

538

DAVID STEW ART

biases. One possibility is suggested by Professor Wolfson, who
observes that the key to understanding the disputed passages
in the Physics is the term "first." He notes: "Now in Physics
VIII, 6, it will be noticed, in the two places where the question
of a plurality of movers is raised, the subject of the question
is not simply ' movers ' but rather ' first immovable mover ' or
'first mover.'" 47 In the first interpolation in Physics VIII, 6
(25Sb 10) Aristotle merely suggests the possibility of a plurality of first movers. In the second interpolation (259a 7-13) he
considers the problem in some detail. Aristotle insists that " it
is sufficient to assume only one movent " and describes this as
the " first of unmoved things." He then concludes the passage
with the statement that " the following argument also makes
it evident that the first movent must be something that is
one and eternal." 48 Wolfson understands the passage in the
following way.
From all these [arguments] it may be gathered that in this chapter,
as it now stands, Aristotle started with the assumption that there
were many immovable movers, at the head of which was a first
immovable mover, and it is with regard to this first immovable
mover that he raised the question whether there was one or more
than one and decided that there was one. 49

With his typical thoroughness Aristotle then considers the
question of whether the movement of the " first " unmoved
mover is analogous to the movement of animals, which in a
sense are self-movers also. He concludes that the self-movement of the animals is not strictly originated by them but is
wholly due to such things as increase, decrease, respiration, and
nourishment, which are caused by the atmosphere and the
other things that enter into them. Aristotle calls self-motion of
this type " accidental " motion but insists that the first unmoved mover must be unmoved even accidentially. 50
07 Harry A. Wolfson, "Immovable
Movers in Aristotle and Averroes" Harvard
Harvard University Press LXlli
Studies in Classical Philology (Cambridge:
(1958), 285, citing Physics Vlll, 6, 25Sb 10-12 and 259• 7-18.
•• Physics 2591 15.
•• Wolfson, op. cit., p. !!85.
•• Physics 259b !!0-!!5.

ARISTOTLE's

DOCTRINE

OF TI-IE UNMOVED MOVER

539

Aristotle further distinguishes between two kinds of accidental motion: (I) "accidental motion of a thing by itself"
and
accidental "motion by something else." The former
kind of accidental motion is the motion of animals; the latter
belongs "to certain first principles of heavenly bodies." 51
Although Aristotle does not draw the conclusion suggested by
this statement, it is obvious that the intended conclusion is
that the heavenly spheres, which are moved accidentally "by
something else," derive their motion from the circular motion
of the outer sphere, which is moved by the first mover. But the
first mover is unmoved even accidentally.
Why did Aristotle make this distinction between the two
kinds of accidental motion? Wolfson argues that it is for the
purpose of asserting that the heavenly movers are transcendent
and do not exist in the spheres of which they are movers. This
is in contrast to the souls of animals which are moved accidentally by the motion which is produced in the animal. 52
The upshot of all this is that the Physics insists that there
are many unmoved movers-one for each celestial spherewhich are moved accidentally by the motion of the outer
heaven. These movers, unlike the self-motion of the animals,
are transcendent final causes. The motion of the outer heaven
is caused by the first unmoved mover, which cannot even be
moved accidentally.

The Unmoved Movers in the Metaphysics
The first issue to be decided is whether the Metaphysics
assumes the distinction of the Physics or whether it can be
treated separately apart from these distinctions. Wolfson
makes a strong case for the view that Aristotle implicitly
assumed the distinctions of Physics VIII in book lambda of
the Metaphysics. It must be admitted that Aristotle does not
strictly state in Metaphysics XII, 8 that the planetary movers
are "separated," but even Jaeger asserts that this is surely
51
52

Physics 259b 28.
Wolfson, op. cit., pp. 237-38.

540

DAVID STEW ART

what he had in mind. 53 While admitting that Aristotle does not
explicitly describe the planetary movers as moved accidentally,
Wolfson argues that Aristotle implicitly assumes this.
In his description of the first immovable mover under the name of
"the principle
and the first of beings" or "the first and
immovable substance," he says that it is " immovable both
essentially (KaO'avro) and accidentally (Kara uvp.{3€{37JK6<>),"but, when
from the fact that the eternal spatial motion of the universe
requires a first immovable mover he raises the question whether the
eternal spatial motions of the planets similarly require immovable
movers, he drops the terms "accidentally" and argues only from
the existence of a " first mover " who must be "immovable essentially " to the existence of a " substance " as the mover of each
planetary sphere which is also "immovable essentially." 54

The crucial point is that Aristotle never describes the
planetary movers as first movers; he reserves this term for the
mover he describes as the first principle which is not movable
either in itself or accidentally. 55 The planetary movers are
described as only " first and another second according to the
same order as the movements of the stars .... " "6
In light of Physics VIII, 6, it seems obvious that Aristotle
applies the distinctions concerning accidental motion in book
lambda of the Metaphysics. As Wolfson notes, "Aristotle
assumes that the mover of the planetary spheres are movable
accidentally, with the qualification, of course, as stated in the
third passage in Physics VIII, 6, that they are movable accidentally, not by themselves, but by something else." 57 This
"something else" is the first immovable mover, which is
neither moved essentially nor accidentally.
Seen from the vantage point of this interpretation of Metaphysics XII, 8, the interpolation at 1074a 32 ff. becomes less
of a problem. Aristotle is simply arguing that the first unmoved
mover is one both in species and number. Without going
•• Jaeger, op. cit., p. 861.
"'Wolfson, op. cit., p. 288, citing Metaphysics XII, 8 1078• 28-27.
55 Metaphysics XII, 8, 1078• 25.
•• Ibid., 1074b 1.
57 Wolfson, op. cit., p. 289.

ARISTOTLE's

DOCTRINE

OF THE UNMOVED

MOVER

541

into the details of Aristotle's argument at this point it can
be noted that his proof applies only to the first unmoved
mover. His conclusion is: "So the unmovable first is one both
in definition and in number; so too, therefore, is that which
is moved always and continuously; therefore there is one heaven
alone." 58 The important thing to note in this passage, Wolfson
points out, is that " the unity in both species and number is
established only with regard to the first immovable mover, that
first immovable mover which previously in the same chapter
he has described as being ' immovable both essentially and
accidentally.' " 59
But how can there be a plurality of planetary movers?
Unfortunately, Aristotle does not tell us explicitly, and we are
forced to reconstruct-as accurately as possible-a good Aristotelian answer. The genus of all the planetary movers is the
same, viz., they are immaterial, immovabable movers. Since
matter is the principle of individuation, and since the planetary
movers are immaterial, they can be many in number only if
each is a pure form comprising a separate species by virtue of
the fact that each planetary mover moves a different planetary
sphere. This is the interpretation favored by both Wolfson and
Ross. 60 It should be noted, however, that at best this and
all other similar interpretations of the problem are reconstructions and as such may not have been the answer that Aristotle
himself would have given. The interpretation suggested above
does offer a viable solution to the question of the number of
unmoved movers without violating any Aristotelian principle
and makes Aristotle consistent without reading into the text
points of view which Aristotle did not share.
This rapprochment between the Physics and the Meta-;
physics is based on the assumption, for which I have argued
above, that book lambda of the Metaphysics assumes the
distinctions of the Physics. But not all interpreters agree on
this point. Joseph Owens, for one, objects to any solution
•• Metaphysics XII, 8, 1074• 36ff.
•• Wolfson, op. cit., p. 240.
•• Ibid., p. 241, and W. D. Ross, Aristotle's Metaphysics
Press, 1924), pp. cxxxiv-cxl.

(Oxford:

Clarendon

DAVID STEW ART

which considers the first unmoved mover to be immobile both
essentially and accidentally while considering the planetary
movers to be unmoved essentially but not accidentally. He
states: "This distinction applies to the Movers of the Physics
The Movers of the Metaphysics,
(Ph., VIII 6,
however, have absolutely no matter, nor are they forms of
matter. So they cannot be mobile in any way whatsoever.
." 61 Owens seems to be assuming two
Cf. A 6, 107lb
things here: (1) the unmoved movers of the Physics and the
unmoved movers of the Metaphysics are two different classes
the unmoved movers of the Physics are
of entity; and
material substances, whereas the unmoved movers of the Metaphysics are not. The thrust of the preceding sections of this
essay has been to argue against the first assumption by showing
that the unmoved movers of the Physics and Metaphysics are
identical. The second assumption is completely without foundation in the Physics. Nowhere in the Physics does Aristotle
state that the planetary movers are material substances. Moreover, Aristotle devotes the last chapter of Physics VIII to the
task of proving that the first unmoved mover is without
magnitude. A similar argument with regard to the planetary
movers would have been fairly straightforward for Aristotle,
but it has already been shown that Aristotle's concern in the
Physics was initially the first unmoved mover and references
to the planetary movers were added later. This would explain
why Aristotle did not offer such a proof.
Owens' reference to Metaphysics 1071 b 17
is really irrelevant to his argument. Aristotle is here arguing against those
who identify the planetary movers with Platonic forms. His
point is that the planetary movers are pure act and of necessity
can have no admixture of potentiality. Although it is true that
the planetary movers are not forms of matter, as Owens points
out, they nonetheless can be conceived as pure forms. Even
Owens admits that this is the only way they can be .a
plurality. 62
61
62

Owens, op. cit., p. 415, n. 41.
Joseph Owens, "The Reality

of the Aristotelian

Separate

Movers,"

The

ARISTOTLE's

DOCTRINE OF THE UNMOVED MOVER

543

Further light is shed on the subject at M etaphymcs 1073!l
U-23.
The first principle or primary being is not movable either in itself
or accidentally, but produces the primary eternal and single movement. But . . . since we see that besides the simple spatial
movements of the universe, which we say the first and unmovable
substance produces, there are other spatial movements-those of
the planets-which are eternal . . . each of these movements
also must be caused by a substance both unmovable in itself and
eternal.
The view being defended in this article is that Aristotle here
assumes the distinctions of Physics VIII, exemplified by the
fact that he reserves for the first unmoved mover the description "not movable either in itself or accidentally." But when
referring to the planetary movers he only says that they are
unmovable per se and eternal. Why does Aristotle not say of
them that they too are unmoved accidentally? Precisely because they receive their accidental motion from the first unmoved mover; yet they are unmoved essentially (per se) and
are therefore eternal.
Owens, however, objects to this interpretation of Metaphysics 1073a 24-34.
The difficulty in drawing this interpretation out of the text, however, is that in the latter sentence Aristotle refers to the First
Mover and the other ]\lovers in exactly the same terms-" per se
immoble and eternal" (a27; 33-34). If he had meant any contrast,
he should in this sentence, have characterized the First Mover as
per accidens immobile, and not in the preceding sentence where
only the First Mover was in question. 63

It is difficult to understand why Owens says that Aristotle
refers. to the First Mover and the other Movers in " exactly
the same terms," for the subject under discussion in the latter
Review of Metaphysics, III (March, 1950), 333-34. Owens denies that there is a
distinction here between the first unmoved mo¥er and the planetary movers, but
he does state that " They are all forms without matter, distinct only by the fact
of being different forms; and even this distinction is known to men only through
the order of the heavenly motions."
•• Owens, The Doctrine of Being, p. 415, n. 41.

544

DAVID STEW ART

part of the text at Metaphysics 1073a
is not the first
mover at all but only the planetary movers. Evidence for this
is the fact that the demonstrative pronoun rovrwv in line 33
a present active participle,
refers back to TClS row
which is in apposition to aAAa<; cf>opas OV(Ja<;. In other words,
the first unmoved mover is in no sense the subject of the last
part of the citation.
It is also precarious to state with assurance what Aristotle
should have written. And it does not follow that Aristotle
should have made the distinction between the two kinds of
motion in the last sentence, as Owens claims. For if one
accepts the view that the distinctions of the Physics are
assumed in the Metaphysics, there would be no particular
reason for Aristotle to repeat them. Note, too, that in lines
31 and
(at 1073a) Aristotle states: "for a body which
moves in a circle is eternal and unresting; we have proved these
points in the physical treatises." This is a reference to Physics
VIII-the same book in which Aristotle introduced the distinctions between essential immobility (per se) and accidental
immobility (per accidens). What further evidence is needed
to justify the claim that Aristotle is assuming throughout the
the prior treatment of the subject in the Physics?
If the view argued for in this article is accepted, any difficulty
in reconciling Aristotle's treatment of the unmoved mover in
the Physics and Metaphysics disappears. By applying the distinction of Physics VIII to the discussion of the unmoved
mover in Metaphysics lambda, one can make Aristotle consistent without doing violence to the Aristotelian texts. In the
Physics Aristotle distinguishes between essential immobility
and accidental immobility. The first unmoved mover is imThe planetary
mobile both essentially and accidentally.
movers, in contrast, are unmoved essentially but not accidentally. The implication is that the planetary movers receive
their accidental motion from the first unmoved mover, which
moves the outer sphere. Although Aristotle does not explicitly
state in the Metaphysics that the planetary movers are not
unmoved accidentally, this poses no problem if one agrees (as

ARISTOTLE'S

DOCTRINE

OF THE UNMOVED MOVER

545

there is good reason to) that he is assuming the distinctions of
Physics VIII. But it is worthy of note that Aristotle does
1eserve for the first unmoved mover alone the designation of
being unmoved both essentially and accidentally.
The upshot of this is that there seems to be in Aristotle a
hierarchy of being implicit in the doctrine of the unmoved
mover. The first unmoved mover is prior in that it is unmoved
both essentially and accidentally, whereas the planetary movers
are only unmoved essentially. The first unmoved mover is also
prior in the sense that the planetary movers receive additional
motion from the movement of the outer heaven, which is
moved by the first unmoved mover.

A MEDIEVAL

PERSPECTIVE

It adds weight to the interpretation being defended in this
study to discover that it is consistent with the Thomistic
understanding of the Aristotelian doctrine of the unmoved
mover. One would perhaps have to admit that St. Thomas was
a little too anxious to identify Aristotle's unmoved mover with
the father of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, but this is beside the
point. Many modern commentators on St. Thomas and his
Aristotelianism candidly point out that the Prime Mover of
Aristotle is not the Christian's God. But Owens, and other
interpreters of Thomas, are left in somewhat of a quandry if
they insist, as Owens does, that all fifty-five planetary movers
are ontologically equal with the first unmoved mover. It
leaves Aristotle in a hopeless inconsistency and causes interpreters to puzzle themselves as to the reason Aristotle left the
text of the Physics and the Metaphysics in such terrible shape.
I have argued that there is a hierarchy among the unmoved
movers. The planetary movers are immobile only per se, whereas the first unmoved mover is unmoved both per se and per
accidens. This is exactly the way in which Thomas Aquinas
interpreted Aristotle. In Surnrna Contra Gentiles, Book One,
Thomas basically followed the same line of argument used by
Aristotle in Metaphysics XII, while at the same time assuming
the distinctions made in the Physics. The following citation
verifies this.

546

DAVID STEW ART

Again, we see that among beings that move themselves some
initiate a new motion as a result of some motion. This new motion
is other than the motion by which an animal moves itself, for
example, digested food or altered air. By such a motion the selfmoving mover is moved by accident. From this we may infer that
no self-moved being is moved everlasting whose mover is moved
either by itself or by accident. But the first self-mover is everlastingly in motion; otherwise, motion could not be everlasting,
since every other motion is caused by the motion of the self-moving
first mover. The first self-moving being, therefore, is moved by a
mover who is himself moved neither through himself nor by
accident. 64

This is practically a paraphrase from Physics VIII. In reference to the planetary spheres, Thomas comments:
Nor is it against this argument that the movers of the lower spheres
produce an everlasting motion and yet are said to be moved by
accident. For they are said to be moved by accident, not on their
own account, but on account of their movable subjects, which
follow the motion of the higher sphere. 65

That Thomas goes on to refer continually to the Physics
in the same context is proof enough that in interpreting the
Metaphysics he assumes the distinctions of the Physics.
In Book II of the Summa Contra Gentiles, chapter 95,
Thomas offers a solution to the problem of how genus and
species are to be taken in separate substances. His conclusion
is that each separate substance comprises a separate species
and that there is a hierarchy of "diverse grades." This is the
same conclusion reached in the disputed question On Spiritu.al
Creatures, Article 8. The ways in which St. Thomas departed
from Aristotle so as to identify the Aristotelian separate substances with angels is sketched out in his Treatise On Separate
Substances, Chapter 2. It is not the purpose of this essay to
go into detail at this point. But the important thing to note
is that St. Thomas did not naively identify God with the first
mover of Aristotle, nor did he glibly identify the planetary
64 Summa Contra Gentiles, trans. Antoo C. Pegis (New York:
Books, 1955), Book I, 13, fl6.
•• Ibid., Book I, 13, 27.

Doubleday Image

ARISTOTLE'S

DOCTRINE

OF THE UNMOVED

MOVER

547

movers with angels. Rather, these items are to be considered
within the context of Thomas's total philosophical system.
CONCLUSION

One can certainly accept the textual criticism of Jaeger without involving Aristotle in hopeless contradictions, but one is
by no means forced to Randall's position which brings a degree
of consistency to Aristotle's Metaphysics by impugning the
substantial reality of the unmoved movers. It has been shown
in this article that the argument of the Metaphysics flows
smoothly without contradiction if one applies the distinctions
of Physics VIII. This was doubtless Aristotle's intention, and
the interpretation of the Metaphysics by Thomas Aquinas
likewise proceeds along these lines. It is also significant to
observe that nowhere in his commentary on the Metaphysics
does Thomas find the hopeless contradictions that have
plagued modern interpreters.
DAVID STEWART

Ohio University
Athenlt, Ohio

DEELY AND GEACH ON ABSTRACTIONISM
THOMISTIC EPISTEMOLOGY

IN

I

N THE JANUARY, 1971 issue o£ The Thomist, there
appeared a quite long and involved article by John N.
Deely entitled "Animal Intelligence and Concept Formation." Deely admits that the provocation of the article was
his reading o£ Peter Geach's Mental Acts. 1 As Deely notes/
Mortimer Adler, in his The Difference in Man and the Difference It
remarks that Professor Geach had adequately
treated the theory of abstractionism and had found it to
be epistemologically wanting. Adler appeared convinced by
Geach's arguments. Furthermore, Geach purported to find
support for his anti-abstractionist position in the writings of
St. Thomas. In Mental Acts, Geach both explicitly quotes and
makes allusions to the Summa Theologiae on numerous occasions. Moreover, Geach includes an appendix exclusively devoted to a " Historical Note " on " Aquinas and Abstractionism." Throughout his text Geach affirms that St. Thomas
would structurally agree with his own remarks on the epistemological errors latent in the theory o£ abstractionism.
Deely is very much concerned about Geach's negative
critique o£ abstractionism and its relation to St. Thomas's
epistemology. He explicitly proclaims that he has a two-fold
goal in his article; he intends to show the "utter absurdity " of:
a. Geach's historical claim-" that the 'mature Aquinas'
was not an abstractionist ";
1 Peter
Geach, Mental Acts:
Their Content and Their Objects (London:
Routledge and Keegan Paul, Ltd.).
2 John
Deely, "Animal Intelligence and Concept-Formation,"
The Thomist,
XXXV (January, 1971), pp. 43-93.

548

DEELY AND GEACH ON ABSTRACTIONISM

549

b. Geach's personal claim-" that the ' whole idea ' of abstraction is completely incoherent." 3
In this article I intend to argue that Deely has conceptually
blurred two aspects of Geach's treatment of abstractionism.
First of all, I believe that Geach's comments are intricately
connected with the "use theory of meaning." Although Deely
notes that Geach begins from a linguistic basis-and Deely
finds fault with this beginning point for a philosophical analysis 4 -he seems unaware of the great significance played in
Geach's critique by the "use theory of meaning." Secondly,
I believe that Deely has misunderstood the structural account
of abstractionism as used by Geach and a fortimi of abstractionism as found in the epistemological treatises written in
the analytic tradition of British Philosophy since 1900. Accordingly, I believe that if Geach is to be understood in his critique
of abstractionism, a necessary condition for such an understanding is both an awareness of the connection of the "use
theory of meaning " to Geach' s analysis as well as a thorough
elucidation of the concept of " abstractionism " as utilized by
the early twentieth-century analytic philosophers. Furthermore, I believe that only in this light can Geach's claims
about St. Thomas's epistemology and abstractionism be critically evaluated.
In order to understand Geach's position on abstractionism,
it would be well to begin with Geach's own description of this
purported epistemological process:
I shall use "abstractionism" as a name for the doctrine that a
concept is acquired by a process of singling out in attention some
one feature given in direct experience-abstracting
it-and ignorfrom
ing the other .features simultaneously given-abstracting
them. 5

Geach is arguing that a process of singling out discriminative
data in direct experience-what has been referred to as " direct
acquaintance "-is not a sufficient condition for an analysis
of the acquisition of concepts. Furthermore, it must be re• Ibid., p. 56.

• Ibid., p. 89 ff.

'Geach, p. 18.

550

ANTHONY

J. LISSKA

membered that Geach is concerned over how we acqmre a
meaningful command of language. 6
A prima facie consideration of these remarks by Geach would
indicate that St. Thomas could hardly be used in support of
Geach's anti-abstractionist
position. It is obvious to any
reader even vaguely familiar with the Thomistic epistemological texts that the term " abstractio" and its various derivatives
appear quite frequently when St. Thomas considers both
concept-formation through the workings of the intellectus agens
and the actual understanding of a concept by means of the
intellectus possibilis. Nevertheless, I will argue that Geach's
remarks must not be immediately dismissed. First of all, one
must discuss the structure of the concept of " abstractionism "
as criticized by Geach in Mental Acts. It is only after this
elucidation has been accomplished that one can justifiably
make a judgment as to whether or not St. Thomas would agree
with Geach's critique of abstractionism.
A consideration of Mental Acts might best begin with a brief
discussion of the philosophical milieu in which this epistemology text first appeared. Mental Acts was published in 1957.
Wittgenstein's Philosophical Investigations was posthumously
published in
Ryle's Concept of Mind was in its first
edition in 1949. The philosophical insights and discussions of
both Wittgenstein and Ryle, I believe, must be considered as
contextual material for an enlightened understanding of Mental
Acts. Both books are an example of what has come to be called
"Ordinary Language Philosophy." Geach himself follows this
philosophical methodology in some of his analytical work. This
methodology is characterized by the systematic attempt to
provide " conceptual elucidations " of puzzling philosophical
6 Geach
analyzes a concept as an acquired mental disposition.
A concept
is defined by Geach as a " mental capacity belonging to a particular person. "
(Mental Acts, p. 13) This is connected with a theory of language in that Geach
argues that " ... the central and typical applications of the term 'having a concept'
are those in which a man is master of a bit of linguistic usage. " (/bid.)
That St.
Thomas used a dispositional view in analyzing both the formation and the exercise
of concepts is apparent in his remarks in his Commentary on Aristotle's On the
Soul, Nos. 359-361.

DEELY AND GEACH ON ABSTRACTIONISM

551

concepts. Another way of describing this methodology is that
ordinary language philosophers attempt to discover the" logic"
of various concepts and expressions found in philosophical
discourse. Understanding the" logic" of a concept is analogous
to what scholastic philosophers have called "understanding
the nature of a thing." That Geach places his allegiance with
ordinary language philosophy is explicitly stated in Mental
Acts when Geach describes his philosophical task as one of
providing an elucidation of the " logical role " of " mental
language ":
Such and such object expressions are used in describing these
mental acts; what is the logical role of these expressions.7
Not only is Geach to be associated with ordinary language
During the
philosophy, but he is also a Wittgensteinian.
1950's the Philosophical Investigations was serving as a philosophical spring-board for much creative and useful analysis.
It is no understatement to affirm that the Investigations
revolutionized analytic philosophy. I believe Mental Acts is
the result of Geach's reflections on both the methodology and
the insights of Wittgenstein's philosophical remarks.
Some philosophers, however, were claiming that Wittgenstein
himself was arguing against the existence and meaningfulness
of mental activity. That Ryle's "Descartes' Myth" chapter
in The Concept of Mind 8 strongly attacked mental activity
associated with the " ghost in the machine " is quite obvious.
Accordingly, in light of Wittgenstein's remarks in the Inve,<?tigations on "private language" and the general consideration of
public rules as necessary criteria for language games, it was
being claimed that Wittgenstein himself was structurally a type
of Watsonian behaviorist. One of Geach's primary claims in
Mental Acts is that it is philosophically mistaken to attribute
behaviorism and its corresponding denied of mental activity to
Wittgenstein. Accordingly, Geach argues that the Wittgen• Geach, p. 2.
8 Gilbert Ryle, The Concept of Mind
(New York:
Chapter I, pp. 11-24.

Barnes and Noble, 1949),

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ANTHONY

J. LISSKA

steinian account of language and an elucidation of the language
of mental activity are not incompatible. Quite the contrary,
Geach will explicitly utilize the " use theory of meaning " m
providing his own acount of mental activity.
The following passage is illustrative of Geach's position m
interpreting Wittgenstein's view of mental activity:
Wittgenstein has been understood as denying the existence of
mental acts; and certain remarks of his about "private language"
are very easily taken this way. I am sure, however, that I have not
so far maintained anything Wittgenstein would have attacked.
Of course, Wittgenstein did not want to deny the obvious truth
that people have a "private" mental life, in the sense that they
have for example thoughts they do not utter and pains they do
not show; nor did he try to analyse away this truth in a neobehaviouristic fashion. In one of his lectures he mentioned
Lytton Strachey's imaginative description of Queen Victoria's
dying thoughts. He expressly repudiated the view that such
description is meaningless because "unverifiable"; it has meaning,
he said, but only through its connexion with a wider, public
"language game" of describing people's thoughts; he used the
simile that a chess-move worked out in a sketch of a few squares
on a scrap of paper has significance through its connexion with the
whole practice of chess. It is useful to observe Frege's distinction
of sense (Sinn) and reference (Bedeutung) in stating Wittgenstein's position; what Wittgenstein wanted to deny was not the
private reference of psychological expressions-e. g., that "pain"
stands for a kind of experience that may be quite "private"but the possibility of giving a private "sense "-e. g., of giving
sense to the word "pain" by just attending to one's own painexperience, a performance that would be private and

The above passage, although quite lengthy, is important in
that Geach explicitly argues that Wittgenstein was not denying
the existence of mental acts. Rather, Wittgenstein is to be
interpreted as providing an analysis of the " logic " of mental
language in terms of a " public language game." In examining
Wittgenstein's remarks on private language I have found
Geach's illustration using Frege's "sense" and "reference"
distinction to be quite illuminating. The sense-i. e., the mean• Geach, pp. 8-4.

DEELY AND GEACH ON ABSTRACTIONISM

553

ing or significance of a term-will always be in the context of
the " use " of a term in a public language game. This is also
what Geach is referring to when he discusses the notion of a
" practice " in the above quotation. Furthermore, the " use "
or "practice" of a term is always determined or satisfied by
public criteria. I believe this analysis by the means of a " use
theory of meaning" whose criteria of significance is always
public is a crucial insight into why Geach argues so vehemently
against abstractionism. That Geach considers abstractionism
as connected with a " private language " is indicated in the
following passage:
The view that psychological words are given a sense in this
way (i.e., by private introspection) is part of a theory (abstractionism, as I shall call it) which Wittgenstein rejected in toto and
not only as regards psychological words. 10

It is apparent that Geach considers abstractionism as opposed to the "use theory of meaning." Having accepted such
a Wittgensteinian view of meaningful discourse, Geach is quite
concerned to show that abstractionism, with its affirmation of
private direct acquaintance, cannot be a necessary condition
for the obtaining of a concept, which concept is manifested
through the speaker's command of language.
The central and typical applications of the term "having a
concept" are those in which a man is a master of a bit of linguistic
usage. 11

Accordingly, Mental Acts is an attempt to develop a "logic"
of mental terms using the "use theory of meaning."
Furthermore, it is important to note that Geach believes
that Ryle is philosophically mistaken in reducing mental
activity to a set of counterfactual conditional propositions
about physical activity. 12 Geach is interested in showing that
"reports of mental acts are logically different from reports of
physical acts.
" 13 In theory, it seems to me that such an
10
11

Ibid., p. 4.
Ibid., p. 13.

12

13

Ibid., pp. 4-7.
Ibid., p. 4.

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ANTHONY

J. LISSKA

analysis is a necessary condition for the scholastic distinction
between esse intentionale and esse reale. Furthermore, I believe
that it is obvious that Aquinas would hold that mental activity
belongs to a different category than does physical activity.
Textually, in his Commentary on Aristotle's On the Sottl, St.
Thomas explicitly argues that a mental act, both as an
acquired disposition and as an exercise of that disposition, is
not to be classified as a physical change. 14 Insofar as this is
the case, Geach is obviously quite different from Ryle in his
theory and structure of mental activity. Geach is ultimately
claiming that it is a "category mistake "-to use Ryle's
term-to have the same "logic of discourse " apply to both
physical and mental activity. I am sure that Ryle would not
admit such a distinction into his epistemological discussions. 15
Geach will affirm the existence of mental acts. He does this
by showing that the "logic" for mental terms is not the same
as the "logic" of physical terms. So far, I believe that St.
Thomas can agree with everything Geach has claimed. This
is not to assert that St. Thomas adopted fully the " use theory
of meaning"; however, there are instances in which Aquinas
14 Nos. 365-369, Commentary
on Aristotle's On the Soul. That St. Thomas's
analysis i:n this present set of texts depends upon a matter-form ontology is obvious.
Nevertheless, mental activity and physical activity are placed in two separate
categories in St. Thomas's epistemology.
'" I am aware that considerable debate has ensued over whether Ryle's position
G. J. Warnock has
in The Concept of Mind is that of a materialist-behaviorist.
the following interesting observations on this problem of analysis:
There are here and there in Ryle's book some traces of a more extreme, and
in a way much simpler thesis. This is the thesis that there really exist only
bodies and other physical objects, that there really occur only physical events
or processes, and that all statements ostensibly referring to minds are really
categorical statements about current bodily behavior, or more commonly
hypothetical statements about predicated bodily behavior; that, hence, there
is really no such thing as a private, inner life at all, and that in principle
everything about every individual could be known by sufficiently protracted
observation of his bodily doings. . . . It cannot, I believe, be wholly an
accident that many people have believed that Ryle's book presents this tlwsis.
Oxford University
G. J. Warnock, English Philosophy Since 1900 (London:
Press, 1958), pp. 100-101.
The marked difference between Warnock's account of Ryle's position and the
view expressed by Geach should be obvious.

DEELY AND GEACH ON ABSTRACTIONISM

555

explicitly philosophizes about the various uses of philosophical
terms. 16
The gist of my first argument is that Geach's comments
on abstractionism are intimately connected with a " use theory
of meaning." This is not to assume that a "use theory of
meaning " is correct. Yet it must be admitted that many
twentieth-century philosophers have been convinced of the
tremendous significance of this Wittgensteinian theory of meaning. However, my present discussion does suggest that if
Deely is correct in his refutation of Geach's critique of abstractionism, then he must also be prepared to discard the
"use theory of meaning." Furthermore, I believe that Geach's
implication that abstractionism is incompatible with a "use
theory of meaning" is fundamentally sound. However, I can
find no evidence in Deely's article that he was a ware of any
relationship existing between Geach's comments on abstractionism and the later Wittgensteinian theory of meaning as use.
I do maintain, however, that if one is to critically evaluate
Geach's account of abstractionism, then a necessary condition
of such an evaluation is an acknowledgement of the incompatibility between " abstractionism " as Geach understands this
concept and the " use theory of meaning."
That the presupposition of the " use theory of meaning " as
being intricately connected with public "language games " is
crucial to Geach's anti-abstractionist position should be apparent now. In addition, however, I believe that there is an
extremely fundamental metaphysical issue that must be confronted in analyzing Geach's account of abstractionism. This
issue involves the metaphysical analysis of the nature of
mental activity. I do not know if Geach explicitly had this in
mind when he wrote Mental Acts. However, Geach's consideration of the mind's ability to "make " a concept is, I
believe, structurally opposed to the important points which
will be made concerning epistemological theories formulated in
16 Commentary
on Aristotle's On the Soul, Nos. 359-361. In discussing the
different senses of " act " and " potency " St. Thomas is using a methodology
which is quite similar to the Wittgensteinian notion of " family resemblance. "

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ANTHONY

J. LISSKA

analytic philosophy previous to the advent of ordinary language philosophy.
One fruitful way to understand Mental Acts is to consider
Geach as reacting against the epistemological theories espoused
by Bertrand Russell, G. E. Moore, and H. H. Price. This type
of theory of knowledge is associated with the epistemological
efforts of the early members of the analytic school of British
Philosophy. This epistemological movement is structurally
characterized by what I will call a "diaphanous mental act."
Historically, this position goes back to Plato. Plato argued
that knowledge is " acquaintance." Moreover, such a relation
of "acquaintance" was Plato's structural reason for arguing
for the theory of recollection in the Phaedo. The theory that
knowledge is "acquaintance" states that in any type of awareness situation there is a strict relation between the knower
and the object known. In other words, when there is a knowledge relation, there must be an object with which the mind is
acquainted. In Plato's case, in order to explain the possibility
of a knowledge of universals, he was structurally forced into
asserting that at one time the mind was directly acquainted
with the universal entities subsisting in the world of the forms.
It is important to realize that if "to know P" is equivalent to
"to be acquainted with P," then "P" must of necessity have
some type of existence. Accordingly, the theory which postulates a diaphanous mental act is structurally connected with
the axiom that " knowledge is acquaintance."
When Russell and Moore first reacted against Idealismboth the Absolute Idealism of Bradley, Bosanquet, and McTaggart as well as the Subjective Idealism of Berkeley-they
took structural hints in epistemology from Plato. Philosophically, the Berkeleyian dictum, Esse est Percipi, was the crucial
presupposition upon which Idealism rested. In attempting to
philosophically refute this principal idealist presupposition
Russell and Moore utilized structural notions from intentionality theory which had recently been discussed by Brentano and
Meinong. This thesis of intentionality focused attention upon
the act-object distinction. Moore emphatically endorsed this

DEELY AND GEACH ON ABSTRACTIONISM

557

distinction in his celebrated 1903 paper, "The Refutation of
Idealism." What is important for our present consideration is
not the embracing of intentionality theory or the acceptance
of the act-object distinction but rather the Platonic characterization given to the mental act itself once the general tenets
of intentionality theory were adopted into the epistemological
accounts of Russell and Moore. The following passage from
Moore's "The Refutation of Idealism" briefly describes the
unstructured character of a mental act:
... the moment we try to fix our attention upon consciousness
and to see what, distinctly, it is it seems to vanish: it seems as
if we had before us a mere emptiness. When we try to introspect
the sensation of blue, all we can see is the blue: the other element
is as if it were diaphanousY
With the mental act having no structure or make-up of its
own, it is completely determined by the object that it is aware
of. When Russell discussed " knowledge by acquaintance," he
was affirming the same status for a mental act of awareness.
The following passage from Russell's Analysis of Mind should
be noted:
If there is a subject (knower), it can have a relation to the
patch of color (or any object), namely, the sort of relation which
we might call awareness. 18

Such a characterization of a mental act has many implications for epistemology, most of which Geach himself in
Mental Acts wants to avoid. It is at this point that I believe
Deely has misunderstood Geach's study. "Abstractionism," as
Geach understands this concept, is intricately connected with
the diaphanous mental act of acquaintance. This mental act,
moreover, is essentially Platonic in character.
In order to account for our everyday awarenesses, a diaphanous mental act forces the epistemologist into postulating all
17 G. E. Mooore,
"The Refutation of Idealism," Mind, N. S., XII (1903), as
found in G. E. Moore, Philosophical Studies (Totowa, New Jersey:
Littlefield,
Adams and Company, 1965), p.
18 Bertrand Russell, An Analysis of Mind
(London:
George Allen and Unwin,
p. 141.

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ANTHONY

J. LISSKA

sorts of entities into his ontology. I believe the whole consideration of sense data, for example, as provided by Russell,
Moore, and Price, was brought about because of the insistence
by these epistemologists on a diaphanous mental act. The
following passage from H. H. Price's Perception considers the
relationship between " acquaintance " and the postulation of
entities like sense data:
This peculiar and ultimate manner of being present to consciousness is called being given, and that which is thus present is called
a datum. The corresponding mental attitude is called acquaintance,
intuitive apprehension, or sometimes having. Data of this special
sort are called sense data. And the acquaintance with them is
conveniently called sensing . ... 19

This passage from Price is important in that it is an explicit
philosophical description of the requirement of an ontological
entity to serve as object for the diaphanous mental awareness
of acquaintance. The identification of " acquaintance " with
" intuitive apprehension " will become extremely important
when the discussion of " abstractionism " and " universals "
begins. In addition to the postulation of sense data, in So-me
Main Proble-ms of Philosophy Moore argues for the existence
of " propositions " as ontological entities of which the mind is
directly aware. 20 In other words, the term of the relation of
" believing " is an entity called a proposition. " Believing "
here is serving as a different species of the genus of " awareness." Russell, in The Proble-ms of Philosophy, likewise argued
for the existence (or rather " subsistence," as Russell would
19 H. H. Price, Perception
(New York: McBride, 1933), p. 3. On this same
topic, A. J. Ayer writes the following:
What, according to them (Locke, Berkeley, Russell) is immediately given in
perception is an evanescent object called an idea, or an impression, or a presentation,
or a sense datum, which is not only private to a single observer, but private to
a single sense.
A. J. Ayer, The Problem of Knowledge (Edinburgh:
Penguin Books, 1956),
p. 85. This passage is interesting in that it further elaborates upon the private
character of direct acquaintance as demanded by a diaphanous mental act.
•• G. E. Moore, Some Main Problems of Philosophy (New York: Collier Books,
1953), Chapter III.

DEELY AND GEACH ON ABSTRACTIONISM

559

claim) o£ universals. 21 In addition, Russell's Essays on Logical
Atomism 22 are prime examples o£ explicit claims £or the necessary postulation o£ " negative £acts," " general £acts," and
" logical £acts." 23 The point I must insist upon-and I believe
this is behind Geach's vehement critique of abstractionism-is
that, i£ the mental act is indeed a diaphanous act of acquaintance or intuitive apprehension, there is a corresponding a priori
necessity to postulate as many entities as objects of acts of
awareness as there are unique species o£ awareness. The result
o£ such an epistemological analysis and its corresponding
ontological postulations is what Professor Quine has correctly
called "the over-populated universe." As I shall presently
argue, such " strange entities " are indeed quite foreign to
Geach's epistemology. And as a diaphanous mental act demands these extra entities, so too is such a theory foreign to
St. Thomas's epistemology.
I believe that the analysis o£ abstractionism and its accompanying problems is a necessary condition £or formulating a
theory o£ mental acts which can philosophically alleviate the
need o£ postulating many and diverse objects o£ reference into
one's ontology in order to have an explanatory epistemology.
I will grant that in Mental Acts Geach does not explicitly write
21 Bertrand
Russell, The Problems of Philosophy (New York:
Oxford
University Pl'ess-Galaxy
Book-, 1959), Chapters IX and X. Russell also
argues for the subsistence of universals in his 19ll presidential address to the
Aristotelian Society.
22 Robert C. Marsh, editor, Bertrand Russell:
Logic and Knowledge (London:
George Allen and Unwin, Ltd., 1956).
•• It is true that Russell exerted much philosophical effort between 1903 and
19!!!3 attempting to bring a "robust sense of reality" back to philosophy. In fact,
Russell radically changed his ontological demands from the extremely overpopulated
universe of his 1903 Principles of Mathematics to his important 1905 paper,
"On Denoting." This latter paper explicitly laid out the logical machinery for
Russel's extremely influential theory of definite descriptions. This theory aided
Russell in prescinding his overly rich ontology expressed in his Meinongian
Principles of Mathematics.
Nevertheless, even though the theory of definite
descriptions eliminated the need for postulating a referent for every term-since
all terms were now not looked upon as proper names--still
Russell wa.:;
epistemologically committed to the diaphanous mental ad. This commitment is
obvious when one reads the Essays on Logical Atomism which first appeared in
1918.

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ANTHONY

J. LISSKA

about a diaphanous mental act. However, a theory of a
" structured " mental act-which is opposed to a diaphanous
mental act-does indeed follow from Geach's analysis of concepts as acquired dispositions. To affirm a structured mental
act is to deny a diaphanous mental act. A structured mental
act affirms the active contribution on the mind's part in making
concepts. A concept is not completely determined by an
ontological referent; such an existent referent is what the
epistemological relation of acquaintance or intuitive apprehension demands. The resemblance to Plato's theory of recollection should be obvious. Furthermore, the nature of a diaphanous mental act is necessarily connected with abstractionism
as acquaintance. Accordingly, if St. Thomas is an abstractionist in the same sense that Geach is using this concept, then St.
Thomas too is using a diaphanous mental act in his epistemology. And since a diaphanous mental act is fundamentally
Paltonic, then St. Thomas must be considered as a Platonist. I
do not think that Deely would want to make such an assertion
of Thomistic epistemology. In essence, Geach's claim about abstractionism in St. Thomas revolves around the acceptance of
either Platonic or Aristotelian epistemology. To be an abstractionist, as Geach is using this epistemological concept, is
to adopt a relational view of acquaintance or intuitive apprehension; such an acceptance is Platonic. Since Geach realizes
that St. Thomas is not a Platonist in his epistemology, he could
not have adopted such a relational view of abstractionism.
In criticizing Geach's account of abstractionism as being
incompatible with St. Thomas's epistemology, Deely mentions
Geach's anti-abstractionist critique of " color concepts." It
is true that the acquisition of sensible concepts-the proper
and common sensibles-is the most obvious case used in
establishing the possible soundness of abstractionism. Yet
Deely fails to mention that Geach has a very detailed argument against the acquisition of the concept of "chromatic
color " by means of abstractionism as acquaintance or intuitive
apprehension. 24 In the case of "chromatic color" the very same
20

Geach, pp. 37-39.

DEELY AND GEACH ON ABSTRACTIONISM

561

sensible object-what Aristotle and St. Thomas would refer
to as the" proper sensible "-has been perceived. However, the
concept of a " particular color "-be it red, green, blue, or
whatever-and the concept of " chromatic color " are two
distinctly different concepts. For one could possess the former
and not the latter. If abstractionism is true, then there must
have been some element perceptible in direct experience-i.e.,
by acquaintance or intuitive apprehension-which is different
and discernible in each separate case. However, the proper
sensible is the same in both cases. There is nothing which serves
as a referent which is capable of distinguishing the particular
color from the chromatic color. Accordingly, I believe that the
example of having the concept of " chromatic color" provides
a persuasive counter-example
against the abstractionist-asacquaintance position. Moreover, although Deely considers
the acquisition of color concepts by abstractionism in Mental
Acts, he fails to mention Geach's other examples. Geach
provides detailed arguments indicating that the acquisition of
" logical " concepts, " arithmetical " concepts, and " relational "
concepts are incoherent on an abstractionist model. 25 In
addition, Deely fails to mention how these concepts are indeed
acquired by means of abstraction.
In treating of those concepts used in logic, Geach gives
reference to Russell's famous example from An Inquiry into
Meaning and Truth concerning the acquisition of the " sense "
of the concept of "or." Russell had argued that we acquire
such a sense of " or " by abstracting or being directly acquainted
with the psychological feeling experienced when one is forced
to decide which fork in the road to take. To this Geach, somewhat facetiously but perceptively, remarks:
To many people, such recitation of the word " or " suggests a
feeling of dithering between two alternatives; to me, on the other
hand, it naturally suggests a threat-"---, or else---! " 26
The point Geach is making is that nowhere either in the
sensible world or in the private psychic realm could one be
25

Ibid., pp. 22-33.

26

Ibid., p. 23.

ANTHONY

J. LISSKA

directly acquainted with any object that could be suitably
labeled "or," "not," "if-then," or any other logical connective.
No such acquaintance could ever sufficiently account for the
meaning of the logical connectives. In other words, Geach is
asking what possible ontological or psychological referent could
we be directly acquainted with when we acquire the concepts
of the logical connectives. In addition, St. Thomas would agree
with Geach in claiming that logical concepts are not attained
by acquaintance or intuitive apprehension. St. Thomas and the
Thomistic tradition have consistently argued for the second
intentional character of logical concepts. This discussion of
logical concepts makes it apparent that Geach's notion of
abstractionism demands that the " common element " of every
concept be first found in direct sense experience. Geach concludes that such a demand of acquaintance or intuitive apprehension for the acquisition of logical concepts is indeed
incoherent. Geach provides similar arguments indicating the
implausibility of abstractionism in accounting for both arithmetical and relational concepts.
One additional consideration made by Geach might prove
interesting in this present discussion. Geach discusses why, on
an abstractionist's view demanding acquaintance, the concept
of " substance " is reduced to a Lockean " je ne sais quoi." 21
Although the concept of substance does indeed become inexplicable for an abstractionist-as Locke himself noted-this
certainly was not the position of St. Thomas. The latter
certainly did not hold the Lockean view of primary substance
nor did he claim that a perceiver is aware of primary substance
by means of the external senses. 28 Yet Thomistic epistemology
27

Ibid., p. 20.

The awareness of a primary substance in St. Thomas's epistemology has always
been a difficult bit of analysis for me. It seems to me that St. Thomas is not
" abstractionist " in the sense of Locke. I believe that the vis cogitativa is the
internal sense whose "structured " mental awareness by means of phantasms
explains the possibility of our knowledge of individual primary substances even
though the external senses are always only directly aware of proper and <'Ommon
sensibles. The following passage from St. Thomas illustrates my present con<:'ern;
28

DEELY AND GEACH ON ABSTRACTIONISM

563

does argue for the acquisition and possession of a concept of
primary substance. Hence, it must be had independently of
the abstractionist thesis criticized by Geach. Obviously, there
are structural similarities between Geach's remarks on the
acquisition of the concept of " chromatic color " and on the
acquisition of the concept of " primary substance." For nowhere in the sensible world is chromatic color found as discernible from the individual colors themselves. Likewise nowhere in the sensible world-the world of the external sensesis primary substance found as discernible from the collection
of proper and common sensibles. This cannot be the case if
abstractionism as acquaintance is true.
If Deely is correct in his analysis of abstractionism, then he
must show how logical, relational, arithmetical, and primary
substance concepts are acquired by means of abstractionism
utilizing a diaphanous mental act and still remain faithful to
the other philosophical insights found in the texts of St.
Thomas. In fine, I do not think that Deely has correctly
understood what Geach means by abstractionism. Upon analysis Geach can be interpreted as not only providing an ordinary language analysis of mental activity but also as indicating
the need for a structured mental act which will replace the
diaphanous mental act common to the epistemologies of the
early twentieth century analytic philosophers.
The above discussion has been an attempt to elucidate how
it is important to note that the primary substance-the individual man-is not
per se perceived by the external senses:
Sense knows things from being impressed with their likeness. Now this
likeness can be taken at three stages. First, immediately and directly, as when
the likeness of color is in the sight; so also with the other proper sensibles in
their appropriate senses. Secondly, directly but not immediately, as when the
likeness of bodily shape or size is in the sight; so also with the sense-objects
shared through several senses. Thirdly, neither immediately nor directly, as
when the likeness of man is in the sight; he is not there because he is a man, but
because he is a colored object. Summa Theol, I, q. 17, a. 2 (Italics mine).
Here the words "neither immediately nor directly " explicitly denote that St.
Thomas would not structurally accept the account of abstractionism as criticized
by Geach. If St. Thomas were an abstractionist as Geach has elucidated the
concept, then St. Thomas would have to adopt the relation of direct acquaintance,
which adoption would be inconsistent with the above passage.

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ANTHONY

J. LISSKA

Geach has used the concept of abstractionism and how this
notion is related to Platonism via the diaphanous mental act
utilized in early analytic philosophy. Deely seems quite
concerned that Geach's position cannot connect sense and
intellect as demanded by Thomistic epistemology. Deely notes
this concern in the following passage:
This is the very heart of Aquinas' teaching on the relation that
obtains between sense and intellect, rooted in the distinction
between the potential and the actual existence of a world of intelligible natures. 29

In studying Deely's article I have come to the conclusion
that the "potential" existence of a "nature" might very
well be the crucial and critical issue in his disagreement with
Geach. Deely is very much concerned that, without abstractionism, the connection between intellect and sense in Thomistic
epistemology will be lost. Deely claims that Geach's argument
entails that the intellect is independent of sense both in the
formation and the exercise of concepts. 30 In other words,
Deely's point is that, unless Geach accepts abstraction, then
he is denying the influence and dependence of sense on inte]lect.31 Furthermore, Deely appears to make Geach into a
Cartesian innate-idea epistemologist despite Geach's explicit
anti-Cartesian remarks in Mental Acts. 32 Decartes would be
a prime exponent of a private language with his introspective
criteria of meaning -Ryle's "ghost in the machine "-and I
have already indicated what Geach, following Wittgenstein,
thinks about a private language. Furthermore, Geach is very
much concerned over the analysis of the "conversio ad
phantasmata " relation. Geach accepts this relation, so he is
at least prima facie holding for some connection between sense
and intellect. I suspect that Geach is troubled over the exact
structure of a phantasm. This is why he refers to the phrase
" conversio ad phantasmata " as being metaphorical. It is true
that Geach does not spell out the precise relationship between
•• Deely, p. 54.
so Ibid., p. 46.

81

Ibid., p. 76.

32

Geach, pp. 117-121.

DEELY AND GEACH ON ABSTRACTIONISM

565

sense and intellect. Yet this is not the same as denying that
there is any such relationship and thus becoming a Cartesian.
Geach is, however, arguing definitely that insofar as abstractionism as acquaintance is incoherent, this relational view of
intuitive apprehension cannot explain the sense-intellect relationship. In other words, if abstractionism is acquaintance or
intuitive apprehension, then this structurally rules out any
relationship of dependence between sense and intellect. Such
an acquaintance model has two alternatives. Either there is
only one type of awareness-as Berkeley argues-so thus there
is no distinction between sense and intellect. Or, on the other
hand, there are two generic types of awareness-as Plato
argues-each with its corresponding set of objects. This latter
view fundamentally denies any connection between sense and
intellect. I do not think that Deely intends that abstraction
be seen as acquaintance. But the point of the matter is that
Geach definitely did. Accordingly, I believe that Deely has
misunderstood Geach's account of abstractionism, and because
of this misunderstanding, he cannot accept Geach's remarks
concerning the anti-abstractionist nature of St. Thomas's epistemology.
Furthermore, when one considers the "potential" existence
of an intelligible nature, one must ask the question regarding
the precise connection between this " potential " existence of a
nature-which I take to be the " essence " serving as the
foundation in re for law-like statements-and the possibility of
abstractionism as Geach has characterized this notion. For
even if a nature is potential, it cannot be grasped by abstraction
in the manner in which Geach has analyzed abstraction. For
how could a diaphanous mental act of acquaintance or intuitive
apprehension be directly aware of an object which is itself not
actual? This is structurally the theoretical reason why Plato,
Russell, Moore, and Price have demanded the real ontological
existence of universals, general-negative-logical facts, sense
data, propositions, and other such entities in their " overpopulated" metaphysical systems. For that which is to be
the object of a diaphanous mental act-the diaphanous arrow

566

ANTHONY

J. LISSKA

of
itself be a fully "fleshed-out" ontological entity and not merely a potential entity. Any awareness
of the " universalia in re " by a diaphanous mental act is such
that this awareness demands the full existence and reality of
the object of that relation of awareness and not a mere potential
reality. That St. Thomas realized the Platonic character of
what I have characterized as a diaphanous mental act is
found in the following passage in which he is discussing knowledge:
Now it seems that Plato strayed from the truth because, having
observed that all knowledge takes place through some kind of
similitude, he thought that the form of the thing known must of
necessity be in the knower in the same manner as in the thing
known itself. . . . Therefore, he concluded that the things which
we understand must subsist in themselves under the same conditions of immateriality and immobility. 33
In conclusion, I believe that the crucial issue in determining
if Geach is correct in denying that St. Thomas is an abstractionist is to carefully analyze just how Geach has used the
concept of abstractionism.
In a more positive manner, I shall interpret Geach as
arguing for a structured mental act when he claims that the
mind " makes " concepts. As I noted earlier, a concept is judged
adequate by a correct use of a term in language. Nevertheless,
in Geach's account, a concept is never acquired by a direct
awareness or intuitive apprehension of a fully existent actual
entity. In addition, Geach does indeed appeal to St. Thomas's
interpretation of the intellectus agens as providing historical
evidence for an anti-abstractionist epistemology. And this, I
am suggesting, might not be a miscreading of the Thomistic
texts, as Deely argues. In the Summa Contra Gentiles St.
Thomas does indeed use the notion of " efficient cause " when
discussing the function of the intellectus agens. 34 Furthermore,
83 Summa Theol, I., q. 84, a. 1.
•• In II Contra Gent. e. 77, the following passage appear:

. ' .. there is in the soul an active power vis-a-vis the phantasms, making them
actually intelligible; and this power is called the intellectus agens.

DEELY AND GEACH ON ABSTRACTIONISM

567

when considering the intellectus agens in the Snrnrna Theologiae, St. Thomas writes as follows: ". . . per quarn anirna
hurnana facit intelligibilia in actu." 35 In addition, there is
the following text: ". . . dicendurn quod intellectus agen.c:
causat universale abstrahendo a rnateria." 36 This last passage
is important in that St. Thomas explicitly refers to his notion
of abstraction as one of "causing." Structurally, the entire
Aristotelian analysis of causality indeed demands more than a
mere acquaintance. Therefore, I will strongly suggest that
Geach has not mis-read the Thomistic texts as Deely has
argued. Accordingly, St. Thomas's use of abstraction is definitely not to be equated with Geach's view of abstraction as
acquaintance or intuitive apprehension. Clearly Deely is
#2.
And in Chapter 78, the following texts are found:
The other principle, having the role of efficient cause in the soul, " is the intellect
by which all things are made" (namely, actually intelligible), and this is the

intellectus agens. . . .

#2 .
. . .and there also is something which, in the capacity of an efficient cause, makes
all in act-and this is called the intellectus agens.

#4.
For he (Aristotle)

had already said that the intellectus agens is like an efficient

cause....
#8.

(Italics mine in above).

I am aware that the exact analysis of this " efficient cause " is very important
in elucidating the Thomistic epistemology of concept-formation.
Yet in order for
Thomistic epistemology to fall into Geach's category of abstractionism,
the
intellectus agens would have to be a type of intellectual intuition immediately
discerning " universalia in re. " This would be the relation of " direct acquaintance "
or" intuitive apprehension" which the early twentieth-century analytic philosophers
have adopted.
Structurally, such an immediate awareness is quite similar to
G. E. Moore's analysis of "intuition" in Principia Ethica. However, St. Thomas
does not talk as if the functioning of the intellectus agens is that of immediate
apprehension of existing realities.
On the contrary, he is quite explicit in
proclaiming the inherent difficulty in fully " grasping " an essence or nature. On
this point, the reader is referred to Appendix 2, "The Simple Understanding of
Quidditas," in Volume XII of the New English Translation of the Summa
Theologiae (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1968), pp. 170-172.
•• Summa Theol. I., q. 79, a. 4.
36 Ibid., a. 5, ad 2.

568

ANTHONY

J. LISSKA

correct in stating that Aquinas does indeed use the term
" abstractio " when discussing the intellectus agens. However,
St. Thomas could not possibly have meant abstraction to be
used in the same sense as that which Geach has attacked in
Mental Acts.
I do not propose to analyze the concept of the intellectus
agens in this article. That indeed would be a topic in and of
itself. However, I do think that I have successfully argued that
to rule out Geach's critique of abstractionism as being antiThomistic as well as being unsound is not warranted once the
concept of abstractionism as used by Geach has been sufficiently elucidated. Furthermore, it does seem to me that this
essay has indicated that a structured mental act might be able
to resolve some of the epistemological problems raised by the
acceptance of a diaphanous mental act on the part of the
abstractionists.
I would further suggest that more analysis
need be done on the structure of the intelleGtus agens. The
intellectus agens does appear to be able to meet the demands
for a structure for the mind without going to the extreme of
postulating either Cartesian innate ideas or Kantian categories.
In addition, the intellectus agens would support the dependence of intellect upon sense. As I have argued, if abstractionism
as acquaintance were true, then St. Thomas would have no
need for the intellectus agens. Thus, abstractionism as acquaintance or intuitive apprehension is itself fundamentally
anti- Thomistic.
In conclusion, therefore, I have argued that Deely has been
incorrect in his claim that Geach is anti-Thomistic in his
critique of abstractionism and that the mature St. Thomas was
not an abstractionist. These two rebuttals of Deely's article,
however, necessarily depend upon a clear elucidation of what
Geach structurally meant by abstractionism. Once this view
of abstractionism as acquaintance or intuitive apprehension is
understood, it is evident that such an analysis of abstractionism is both far from epistemologically adequate as well as quite
foreign to the epistemology of St. Thomas Aquinas.
ANTHONY

Denison University
Granville, Okio

J. LISSKA

HISTORY, OBJECTIVITY,

AND MORAL CONVERSION

W

HAT IS SPECIFICALLY at issue in this study
can be expressed in several historical contexts.
First of all, it can be indicated by asking whether
Lonergan's " pure desire to know " as fact can become the
" pure desire to know" as achievement apart from the process
of Blondel's la volonte voulante becoming la volonte voulue.
That is to say, can one talk of "the actual orientation of consciousness coinciding with the exigences of the pure, detached,
disinterested, unrestricted desire to know " 1 without explicitating the moral conversion which seems to be a necessary
condition (in the concrete order) for the realization of such a
fact? 2 Again, does not the nature of judgment-in Lonergan's
terms-as a " virtually unconditioned " require explicitation
of all conditions that need to be fulfilled-i. e., not only formaltranscendental conditions, but also existential-contextual? 3
Again, what is at issue is implied in Heidegger's notion of
5 ) • For
Befindlichkeit 4 (already-having-found-itself-there-ness
1 Bernard Lonergan, " Openness and Religious Experience, " in Colledion:
Papers
by Bernard Lonergan, ed. by Frederick E. Crowe, S. J. (New York: Herder and
Herder, 1967), p. 199.
2 The question
I am raising here is similar to that raised by David Tracy in
"Lonergan's Foundational Theology:
An Interpretation and a Critique," in
Foundations of Theology, ed. by P. McShane (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan, 1971),
pp. 217-19 and passim. There are two points of difference in my question:
(I) I
am concerned with moral conversion in the functioning of intelligence generally,
and not simply as a requisite prior to God-talk;
(2) I am focusing primarily on
moral conversion here-Tracy's central concern is with both religious conversion
and moral conversion.
3 Cf. Tracy, loc. cit.
• Cf. Heidegger, Being and Time, trans. by John Macquarrie and Edward
Robinson (New York: Harper and Row, 1962), pp. 172-79. Cf. also J. B. Metz,
"Befindlichkeit,"
Lexikon fur Theologie und Kirche, Vol. II, pp. 102-104; and
William J. Richardson, S. J., Heidegger: Through Phenomenology to Thought
(The Hague: Nijhoff, 1967), pp. 64-65.

569

570

DAVID L. SCHINDLER

acording to this notion one does not so much '" find onself " as
a neutral subject prior to reflection, as one " is found " in a
subjectivity already informed by its own freedom. 6 Hence the
issue arises as to the sense in which one's ongoing decisions are
immanent in the cognitional process itself-in the very act of
knowing.
Finally, in a Thomist context, the issue is expressed by asking
in what sense the act of willing is a necessary condition for the
proper functioning of the intellect in the speculative order.
Hence by implication the question is whether, or in what sense,
the Thomistic distinction between the speculative and practical
order is adequate, or again, whether an authentic intellectualism
does not demand a kind of thoroughgoing voluntarism. 7
My intention in this essay is to address, principally in the
latter (i.e., Thomist) context, the systematic issue which I
believe to be implied in all three contexts: 8 specifically,
whether, or to what extent, judgments of truth are simultaneously, and with equal necessity, the consequence of both intel5 Macquarrie,
in his translation of Sein und Zeit cited above, translates
" Benfindlichkeit " as " state of mind. " Richardson, loc. cit., to avoid all
connotation of the ontic dimension, translates it as " ontological disposition. "
6 Cf. Karl Rahner, Hearers of the Word, trans. by Michael Richards
(New York:
Herder and Herder, 1969), p. 106, n. 8.
7 The contexts
in which essentially the same issue emerges could, of course, be
multiplied: cf., for example, Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, wherein he holds that
perceiving truth is a function of living truly: only the phronimos perceives moral
truth.
(Aristotle is, of course, referring exclusively to moral truth; the key,
in terms of the purpose of this article, is to determine whether, or in what sense,
the same principle is operative in the "speculative" order.) For further discussion
of Aristotle on this point, cf. Stanley Parry, "Reason and the Restoration of
Tradition," in What Is Conservatism, ed. by Frank S. Meyer (New York: Holt,
Rinehart and Winston, 1965), pp. 109-ll4 and pp. 107-129, passim; Lonergan,
The Subject (Milwaukee: Marquette University Press, 1968), pp. 24-2.5; Michael
Harper and Row, 1971),
Novak, The Experience of Nothingness (New York:
pp. 65-88. In my judgment the same issue emerges also in Pascal, Pensees; Newman,
Grammar of Assent; Blonde!, L'Action: I submit that, despite vast differences
in approach, presuppositions, etc., each of these authors holds that, in a decisive
sense, one's already constituted-willed self mediates one's understanding of "reality."
8 My
claim is simply that one can distill a systematic issue common ta
(or at least implied in) each of the contexts: I do not at all intend to deny that
this issue emerges in a quite distinct way in each case (i. e., with its own
presuppositions, points of emphasis, etc.) .

HISTORY,

OBJECTIVITY,

AND

MORAL

CONVERSION

571

lectual and moral conversion. Or, to put it another way, in
what sense is volitional appropriation of truth solidary with,
and the necessary condition for, cognitional appropriation? In
general terms, what is at issue is a central aspect of one's notion
of objectivity: 9 in what sense are the notions of involvement
and commitment integral to (i.e., indispensable for) an adequate understanding of objectivity? My purpose will be to
set forth, in a principally Thomist context, a notion of objectivity (i.e., in the specific aspect already indicated 10 ) which
clearly and positively recognizes the dynamic input (i. e., here
moral and affective) of the subject in all judgments of truth,
and hence which by implication rejects the behaviorist-positivist notion-shared in an important way by much of traditional
Catholic thought 11-that (implicitly or explicitly) denies such
an input. More generally, I intend to explore a limited aspect
of the widely recognized historicity of human being in terms of
a particular (i.e., Thomist) perspective, and, in so doing, to
suggest a way of overcoming, alternatively, the positivist (i.e.,
a-historical) and relativist (i.e., historicist) theories of objectivity.
I begin, then, by stating my contention that recognition of
the primacy of the act of existing in human being, and of
history as the way in which man participates in existence/ 2 is
9 I am focusing on a limited aspect of the question of objectivity:
namely, the
interrelation of cognition and volition in the apprehension of reality. I do not intend
to deal with its numerous other aspects: notably, the issue as to when the mind
knows being-is inteUectual contact with reality immediate or mediated?
'° Cf. n. 9.
u For comments on this tendency in a philosophical context, cf. Frederick
Wilhelmsen, "History and Existence," Thought, XXXVI (Summer, 1961), 207fi.
For comments in a theological concept, cf. Avery Dulles, Apologetics and the
Biblical Christ (Westminster, Md.: Newman Press, 1961), pp. 6-11. Insofar as
this tendency implies a denial of the historicity of human being, it falls under the
rubric of the principle which Lonergan has called the "Principle of the Empt;J<
Head." Cf., for example, his Method in Theology (London:
Darton, Longman
& Todd 1972), pp. 157-58, 223.
12 I use the term " existence " in this essay neither in the sense of Heidegger's
Existenz (being of Dasein) , nor in the sense of Vohandensein (" be present-athand": i.e., "mere entity"). Nor do I use it in the sense of the "existentia"
of the tradition, insofar as its meaning is synonymous with that of Vorhandensein.

572

DAVID L. SCHINDLER

essential generally in developing a sound notion of objectivity 18
and specificalfy in making sense of the texts of Aquinas dealing
with this issue. 14 Man both is, and is-as-having-been. To be
for man is to be in hlstory. 15 These perhaps trite observations
are decisive for a notion of objectivity that is " relevant "-i. e.,
grounded in man as he is. Their acceptance entails rejection
of any analysis of man that is purely formal. The issue here
can be articulated in several contexts: in Whiteheadian terms,
the question is whether being is to be affirmed primarily as
process or as substance; in Heideggerian terms, whether Sein
is to he collapsed into das Seiende; in Thomist terms, whether
esse is to be reduced to essence. 16 In sum, the issue is whether
being is to be reduced to formal structure (s); whether metaphysics is to be patterned after logic.
(cf. Richardson, op. cit., p. 35, n. 20.) The precise meaning of the term-and its
cognates " existing, " "existentialist, " etc.-is closely bound up with the
thesis of the article and hence will hopefully become clear as we proceed.
13 Again, in the limited aspect which I am addressing in this article: cf. n. 9.
14 In terms of the focus in this article the Thomist texts I am referring to are
two key texts dealing with the relations between the intellect and the will.
1 " In my treatment
of being, history, and objectivity in its Thomist context I
am indebted to the study by Frederick Wilhelmsen, op. cit. On the problem of
history generally, cf. Eric Voegelin, Order and History (3 vols.; Baton Rouge:
cf. also his " On Debate and
Louisiana State University Press, 1956-57);
Existence, " The Intercollegiate Review, III (1967), 143-52.
16 For the purposes
of this article I am suggesting here an important point of
agreement between these three systems in terms of the kind of metaphysics each
is rejecting. Each is attempting to overcome traditional metaphysics insofar as it
patterned after a kind of subject-predicate logic: Whitehead attempts to do so in
his appeal to the principle of creativity;
Heidegger in his appeal to Sein;
Thomism in its appeal to esse. Each of these principles is so central to the
respective systems that exhaustive study of their comparative significance i.;,
quite beyond our limits here. In general, for a study of the parallel between
Whitehead and Thomism on this point, see my article " Creativity as Ultimate:
Reflections on Actually in Whitehead, Aristotle, and Aquinas," International
Philosophical Quarterly, June, 1978.
In drawing this parallel, I do not at all intend to imply that there are not
also profound differences between the three philosophers. But such is not my
primary concern here. Rather my primary concern is to urge that the distinction
between creativity/Sein/esse
and that-which-is provides grounds for a new
understanding of science, history, and objectivity. I am attempting in this article
to show how it does so in a limited context-namely, that of the relation between
will and intellect in Thomism.

HISTORY,

OBJECTIVITY,

AND

MORAL

CONVERSION

573

If being is reduced to form, then it follows that meaning is
ultimately rooted in formal structures. Formal structures as
such are not, 17 and hence are not in history: they are immutable. Hence science is of the necessary, and history, as
being "essentially" contingent (i.e., changing, etc.) is unintelligible and extrinsic to science. Study of man in his concrete
reality, however interesting, is a merely psychological or
" ontic" concern, purely " accidental" to science's mam
thrust. 18
If one patterns metaphysics after logic-that is, if one holds
" that the subject-predicate form of statement conveys a truth
which is metaphysically ultimate" 19-then one tends to conceive " reality " as " made up of substances of which accidents
are predicated and of accidents which are attributed to substances." 20 If the " structure " of being is thus exhausted in a
composition of substance (essence) and accidents, then it
necessarily follows further that all change must be interpreted
as " substantial " (" essential ") or " accidental."
The crucial significance of the issue I am raising here for
the problem of history and objectivity can, I think, be clearly
exemplified by reference to the work of Wilhelm Dilthey. For
Dilthey, the key to the possibility of historical knowledge is
the assumption of a human nature common to both the subject
and the object of historical inquiry. 21 That is to say, the very
17 That is to say, ideas, forms, and eternal objects as such are not (real, actual)
apart from some " participation in " a concrete act of being.
18 Such, for example, is necessarily the case in an Aristotelian
framework wherein
being is a composite of substance and accidents. The thesis of this article i.<
precisely that, in articulating a further dimension to being, that of esse--Sein-process, one provides grounds for a new understanding of science, history, and
objectivity.
19 Cf. Alfred North Whitehead, Process and Reality
(New York: The Free Press.
1969), p. 160. This, of course, is precisely the position that Whitehead is rejecting.
2 ° Cf. Etienne
Gilson, The Christian Philosophy of St. Thomas, trans. by L. K.
Shook, C. S. B. (New York: Random House, 1956), p. 31. In the context from
which this statement is taken Gilson, of course, is denying that such a statement
accurately represents the philosophy of Aquinas.
21 The point,
of course, is central to the whole of Dilthey's work. Cf., for
example, the following passage:
"Das Verstehen ist ein Wiederfinden des Ich irn Du: Dcr Geist findet sich auf

574

DAVID L. SCHINDLER

possibility of achieving objective historical knowledge rests
upon the perdurance of an " essentially " self-identical human
nature. My concern here is not so much to point out the relative adequacy or inadequacy with which Dilthey maintained
his position; it is rather to show that what is ultimately in
question here (and for the problems of history and objectivity
generally) is one's understanding of the metaphysical problem
of identity in difference (i.e., a variant of the classical problem
of the one and the many). That is to say, insofar as one raises
the question regarding the possibility of historical knowledge/ 2
one necessarily raises the question of identity (i.e., continuity)
and difference (i.e., discontinuity) in history. 23 If the present
structures of reality (e. g., human nature) are wholly discontinuous with (i.e., different from) those of the past, then such
a phrase as " knowledge of the past " becomes finally meaningless. If the present structures of reality are wholly continuous
immer hoheren Stufen von Zusammenhang wicder: diese Selbigkeit des Geistes
im lch, im Du, in jedem Subjekt ciner Gemeinschaft, in jedem System der
Kultur, schliesslich in der Totalitat des Geistes und der Universalgeschichte
macht das Zusammenwirken der verschiedenen Lcistungen in den Geisteswissenschaften moglich. Das Subjekt des Wissens ist hier eins mit seinem Gegenstand,
und dieser ist auf allen Stufen seiner Objektivation derselbe."
(Gesammelte
Schriften, Band 7; Stuttgart: B. G.Teubner, 1968, p. 191.)
22 In terms of the general theme of this article I understand
historical knowledge
to mean not only " know1edge of the past " but any knowledge by an historical
being. On the connection between the two, cf. Dilthey, Gesammelte Schriften,
Band 7, p. 278.
28 My point here is to argue that this issue is central
to the work of Dilthey
and to subsequent discussion of hermeneutics-though
the issue comes t(
expression quite differently in different contexts. Cf., for example, the discussion by
Howard Nelson Tuttle, in Wilhelm Dilthey's Philosophy of Historical Understanding
(Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1969), pp. 29-30, wherein he points out the ambiguity in
Dilthcy's understanding of human nature insofar as the constancy and identity of
human nature, and its multiplicity and relativity, are both asserted by Dilthey to
be the central facts of history. Cf. also Gadamer's critique of Dilthey for conceiving the task of historical knowledge as the overcoming of one's relativity,
in Le Probleme de la Conscience Historique (Louvain: Publications Universitaires
de Louvain, 1963), p. 25, and pp. 21-37, passim. Finally, cf. Hirsch's critique of
of Gadamer for asserting the impossibility of sameness in the construing of textual
meaning, in " Gadamer's Theory of Interpretation. " Appendix II, Validity in
Interpretation (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1967), p. 256 and pp. 245-64,
passim.

HISTORY,

OBJECTIVITY,

AND

MORAL

CONVERSION

575

with (i. e., identical to) those of the past, then " history "
itself is finally meaningless. If one wishes to maintain both
identity (continuity) and difference (discontinuity), then the
question still remains as to how one is to do so. My point thus
far has been precisely that the issue is insoluble in a context
wherein being is reduced to form (formal structure (s)) and/or
metaphysics is patterned after logic. For, in such a context, of
necessity one is led either to a kind of "a-historical formalism"
or the most thoroughgoing historicism. The former gives us a
kind of continuity (i.e., " identity") but no real history:
formal structures remain " essentially " the same-all (historical) influence is necessarily extrinsic (i. e., " accidental ") . The
latter gives us a kind of history (i. e., " difference ") but no real
continuity: formal structures change "essentially "-all influence is interpreted after the manner of a kind of sublation of
" essences " (" formal structures ") which is destructive of any
enduring self-identity. In sum, the former leads to a-historical
dogmatism: objectivity is simply absolute. The latter leads to
historical relativism: objectivity is finally a meaningless word.
Reference here again to the classical philosophical problem
of the one and the many is illustrative. For in an "essentialistic" horizon, there are, in the final analysis, only two alternatives with respect to what is metaphysically ultimate: monism or unrelated pluralism. 24 Within the same horizon, in
terms of the problem of history, there are likewise finally only
two alternatives: simple identity or pure difference (unrelated
differences). That is to say, insofar as being is exhausted in
formal structure (s) , all change, influence, and the like is necessarily conceived in terms of such formal structure (s) (e. g., substance, accidents, qualities, etc.) . Thus either all (historical)
influence upon a given object (formal structure) is extrinsic
(" accidental ") and hence not a " real " influence: the influence
never "really" " gets inside" and thus never " really " (i.e.,
" essentially") affectS! the object: ultimately the object maintains a simple identity. Or the influence (change, relation) is
and hence "essential.'' The influintrinsic ("substantial")
•• Whitehead, loc. cit.

576

DAVID L. SCHINDLER

ence " really " " gets inside " and thus affects its " object "
"essentially "-i.e., destroys its ("essential")
self-identity:
there is ultimately only pure difference (or ongoing unrelated
differences) .25 In terms of the specific problem of this articlethe relation betwen intellect and will-the implications of
this same horizon are as follows: Either one conceives the relation between the intellect (as one formal structure) and the
will (as another formal structure) as extrinsic-i.e., "accidental," and hence falls into a kind of mechanism 26 (i. e., a
variant of the behaviorist-positivist position); or one conceives
the relation as intrinsic, and falls into a kind of voluntarism
(i.e., a variant of the historicist-relativist position). And while
I think the latter problem is in a sense the more pervasive one
today, nevertheless in the history of scholasticism the former
problem I think has been the crucial one. Since I am working
here principally in a Thomist context, my focus will be primarily on this aspect of the problem.
In terms of this aspect, then, the most important implication
generally is the (implied) denial, in any finally meaningful
sense, of the historicity of human being (understood here in
the specific sense of the influence of one's past-and ongoingmoral decisions, loves, fears, hates, on one's present reflection).
For, in the "essentialistic" horizon just delineated, the past
never really" gets into" the present: history never really gets
"inside" man's being. Human nature is what it is-immutably
and eternally-in the formal order; all change in the sense of
historical conditioning is merely "accidental "-extrinsic to
human nature's perduring self-sameness. More specifically in
terms of the problem of this article, the intellect is a formal
structure which, precisely insofar as it is such, excludes all
contextual influences-moral decisions, loves, hates, fears-as
•• Ironically, in this case difference (change, etc.) itself becomes, in the final
analysis, the only self-identical "formal structure" which perdures through
history-a contradiction in terms. This, it seems to me, is precisely the difficulty
with any philosophy which conceives history in terms of a thorough-going dialectic:
for the dialectic itself is ultimately non-dialectical.
•• Cf., for example, Andre Hayen, L'lntentionnel selon saint Thomas (!M ed.;
n. 4.
Paris: Desclee de Brouwer, 1954), pp.

HISTORY,

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AND

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CONVERSION

577

"essentially" (i.e., "formally") extraneous to its operation.
Hence solution to the problem of objectivity is relatively
simple: one merely has to peel away all the extrinsic influences
to get at the "pure intellect" which makes the " objective"
(i.e., immutable) statements. In my judgment, the attempt
to peel away these influences entails no less than the attempt to
peel away the reality of the concrete, living, human subject;
the attempt to get out of history is the attempt to go literally
nowhere. 27
To be is to be in a context; to be is to undergo influences.
Contexts and influences are extrinsic only in an " essentialistic "
horizon (i.e., only in the order of being qua formal structure);
they are intrinsic in an " existentialist " horizon (i. e., in the
order of being qua act of being) . That is to say, the historicity
of human being is finally a meaningful notion only within the
framework of the distinction between the act of (human) being
and its formal structure, wherein primacy is accorded the
former. For only in such an "existentialist" perspective is
history " inside" man (i. e., in such a way as not to be simply
destructive of his enduring self-identity). It is never a question
of whether one is going to undergo (historical) influences (i.e.,
the influence of one's past decisions, loves, etc., etc.) : they are
intrinsic to him precisely because, and to the degree that, they
are intrinsic to his act of being. Thus, in terms of the problem
of this article,
if history is a way in which man experiences his participation of
existence; if that participation in existence precludes strict " objectivity" because man is within the existence he participates; if
these things are so, then it follows that not only is this objectivity
impossible theoretically, but it is not even an ideal to be desired.
The achievement of . . . " objectivity " would destroy man's
participation in existence because it would require him to empty
himself of the substance of his being. 28
27 I do not at all intend to deny here that formal structures
can be penetrated
abstractly (i. e., can " really " be distinguished) , and that such penetration is vali(!
within certain limits. I would only add that one must ultimately transcend the
formal order and return to existence, precisely because being is more than form.
Wilhelmsen, op. cit., pp. 203-04.

578

DAVID L. SCHINDLER

In the remainder of this article I wish to explore the implications of this " existentialist" perspective in terms of the specific
context of Aquinas's treatment of the relation between intellect
and will. The discussion will be in two parts: I wish first to
discuss the role of the will in the general functioning of the
intellect (in the speculative order); and second to discuss its
role in areas which deal directly with the question of the
meanmg of human existence.

*

*

*

*

The following statements by Aquinas capture a central aspect
of his teaching on the relation of intellect and will:
From this we can easily understand why these powers include one
another in their acts, because the intellect understands that the
will wills, and the will wills the intellect to understand. In the
same way, the good is contained under the true, inasmuch as it is
an understood truth, and the true under the good, inasmuch as it
is a desired good. 29
The will moves the intellect as to the exercise of its act, since even
the true itself, which is the perfection of the intellect, is included in
the universal good as a particular good. But as to the determination
of the act, which the act derives from the object, the intellect moves
the will; for the good itself is apprehended under a special aspect as
contained in the universal true. 30

The relation between the intellect and will is, then, according to
Aquinas, mutual: the intellect understands that the will wills,
and the will wills the intellect to understand. The will wills the
truth as a particular good included in the universal good which
•• " Ex his ergo apparet ratio quare hae potentiae suis actibus invicem se
includunt: quia intel1ectus intelligit voluntatem velle, et voluntas vult intellectum
intelligere. Et simili ratione bonum continetur sub vero, inquantum est quoddam
verum intellectum; et verum continetur sub bono, inquantum est quoddam bonum
desideratum."
(Summa Theologiae, I, q. 82, a 4 ad primum.)
30 " ••• voluntas movet intellectum
quantum ad exercitium actus: quia et ipsum
verum, quod est perfectio intellectus, continetur sub universali bono ut quoddam
bonum particulare.
Sed quantum ad determination actus, quae est ex parte
obiecti, intellectus
movet voluntatem:
quia et ipsum bonum apprchenditur
secundum quandam specialem rationem comprehensam sub universali ratione veri."
Ibid., I-II, q. 9, a. 1, ad tertium.

HISTORY,

OBJECTIVITY,

AND

MORAL

CONVERSION

579

is its proper object. The intellect understands the good insofar
as it is a particular instance of the universal truth that is its
proper object. The will moves the intellect as to the exercise of
its act. The intellect moves the will insofar as it determines
(i.e., specifies) the act of willing. I wish to single out two
aspects of this rather commonplace Thomistic teaching for
discussion here: first, the will as an agent moves the intellect
to its act; secondly, the good that the will wills is always an
understood good.
According to the first statement, then, there is no act o£
intelligence (i e., " intellecting ") that does not in some way
presuppose an act of the will. The issue is precisely to understand the relation between the two. In terms of the context of
essentialism discussed above, only two alternatives are available: either one must interpret the relation mechanisticallyand end up with no " real " relation at all, or one must confuse
their proper functions-and end up with no real distinction.
The former issues in formalism; the latter in voluntarism.
More concretely, my meaning here is this: in a" formalistic"
perspective, one might, for example, will to study, and enjoy
the fruits of study (i.e.,. take pleasure in the truth that is a
particular good), but the willing is never immanent to the
" intellecting" proper to study. That is to say, willing is
"essentially" extrinsic (i.e., "accidental") to "intellecting."
The will is necessary, as it were, to get the intelligence into
operation, but its influence ceases once the operation is underway. The will is "accidental" to the intellect qua formal
structure. On the other hand, in a "voluntarist" context,
willing is considered to be intrinsic to "intellecting" in such
wise that willing the truth becomes confused with knowing the
truth. The will is " essential " to the intellect qua formal
structure.
It is precisely such an " essentialistic " context which, in my
judgment, constitutes the horizon 31 in terms of which Aquinas
81 That is to say, in those parts of the Summa and the De Veritate where Aquinas
treats of the relation between the intellect and will, he is dealing " formalistically "-i.e., he is dealing with formal structures qua formal structures.
My

580

DAVID L. SCHINDLER

maintains his position that the disposition of one's will is not an
"essential " condition for the proper functioning of intelligence
in the speculative order. 32 That is to say, in the formal order,
the speculative intellect has no intrinsic need of moral virtue. 33
Moral virtue is" accidental" to the proper functioning of speculative intelligence. 34 My intention is not at all here to deny the
validity of distinctions in the formal order-such a denial would
lead precisely to the error of voluntarism mentioned above.
Rather, my intention is to transcend the formal order. That is
to say, the problem is to be solved by moving from the formal
order to the existential (i.e., concrete) order. Specifically, the
problem is solved, in my judgment, by distinguishing the formal
structure of " intellecting '' from the concrete act of " intellecting." Hence, while willing may be " accidental " in the
former case, it is intrinsic in the latter: the act of willing
is immanent in every act of " intellecting " precisely insofar as that act perdures. Willing is intrinsic to "intellecting" qua act (i.e., not qua formal structure) . It is precisely
necessary condition (in the concrete order) for all functioning of intelligence-even "speculative" intelligence. This
seems to me to be the deepest meaning of Aquinas' position
that the will is intrinsic to the intellect in the order of exercise
(quantum ad exercitiurn actus) -i.e., in the concrete order of
acting; and that it is extrinsic (" accidental ") in the order of
specification (quantum ad specificationern actus) -i.e., in the
formal order. 35 In my judgment, it is likewise this distinction
which allows us to give its deepest meaning Aquinas' statement
that "voluntas est in ratione." 36
thesis is precisely that the distinction Aquinas makes elsewhere between essence
and esse demands finally that this formal perspective be transcended.
32 Cf., for example, Summa Theol., I-II, q. 56, wherein Aquinas takes the position
that moral virtue is not essential for virtues of the speculative intellect.
33

Ibid.

Cf., for example, De Veritate, q. 14, a. 3 ad 10.
35 Summa
Theol., I-II, q. 9, a. 1 corpus and ad 3. On this point, cf. Joseph
Marechal, 8. J., Le Point de depart de la metaphysique, Cahier V (2d ed.; Paris:
Desclee de Brouwer, 1949), pp. 381-412, esp. 392-95; cf. also Hayen, L' lntentionel,
pp. 216-22.
36 Summa
Theol., ibid., a. 5. Cf. also Aqui:las, Ill de Anima, lect. 14, n. 802:
"Quaedam appetitiva est in parte rationabili, idest voluntas." Cf. also Summa
34

HISTORY,

OBJECTIVITY,

AND

MORAL

CONVERSION

581

The implications of this distinction for the problem in this
paper are twofold: first, by establishing-in Thomistic termsthat the act of willing is a necessary condition (in the concrete
order) for all functioning of intelligence, even " speculative "
intelligence, it shows by implication that thematization of this
act is integral to (i.e., necessary for) the development of an
adequate notion of objectivity (at least any such notion that
intends to speak to man as he is). In other words, the notion
of objectivity cannot be adequately dealt with in exclusively
cognitional terms-i.e., in terms of the intellect alone. Secondly, this distinction enables us to avoid falling into the alternate
error of a kind of voluntarism (i.e., relativism) . That is to
say, if one attempts to establish an intrinsic relation between
intellect and will in the formal order, one inevitably tends to
confuse willing the truth with knowing the truth,-and hence
the criterion for truth tends to become the intensity of one's
affections and/or the degree of freedom immanent in one's
decisions rather than the intelligibility of one's understanding.
The second aspect of the Thomistic teaching that I wish to
focus on here is that the good that the will wills is always an
understood good. 87 Such a statement argues to a certain
priority of intellect over will-i. e., the good must in some sense
be first understood bef01·e it can be willed. I wish here again to
attempt to make sense of this priority in terms of the " existentialist" perspective of this essay. First of all, then, I think
it is quite true logically that the intellect is prior to the will:
understanding the good is logically prior to willing the good as
understood. Nor do I mean by this that the distinction of
priority is merely a notional, and not a real distinction. On the
contrary, the distinction is ontologically true 38-i. e., rooted in
the " real" formal structures of will and intellect. On the other
Theol., 11-11, q. 24, a. 1 ad. 2; I-11, q. 9, a. 2. This is the po3ition that Marcchal

holds to be the precise point of convergence between Aquinas and Blonde!: cr.
M.A. Milet, " Les 'Cahiers' du P. Marechal.
Sources doctrinales et influences
subie, " Revue neoscolastique de philosophie, XLIII (1940-45) , 243-44.
37 Summa Theol., I, q. 82, a. 4 ad 1.
38 I. e.,
ontological in a Thomistic rather than Heideggerian sense: namely,
ontological as distinct from merely logical.

589l

DAVID L. SCHINDLER

hand, in an " existentialist " perspective it is my judgment that
the priority is no longer relevant: that is to say, in the concrete
order of existing there is a circle always operative in understanding: the intellect is in operation precisely to the extent
that the will wills it to be in operation-i.e., the intellect knows
precisely to the extent that the will is immanent to it in the
order of exercise (i.e., the order of knowing qua act) ; the will
wills an understood good-i.e., the will wills precisely to the
extent that the intellect is immanent to it in the order of
specification. In sum, in the concrete order of existing, the
problem is never one of either-or; it is always one of both-and:
in the concrete act of understanding it is always a questionsimultaneously and with equal necessity--of both an act of
willing and an act of "intellecting."
To summarize this section of our study, then, it is my conviction that the tendency in Thomistic circles to relegate the
will to an " accidental " role in the functioning of human
intelligence (in the " speculative " order) is due to the essentialistic horizon of the discussion. 39 I£ one remains in an
essentialistic perspective, the distinction between the order of
exercise and the order of specification reads something like this:
first, in the order of exercise, the will moves the intellect as
agent. This is taken to mean that the function of the will is
simply to get the intellect to its proper "place"; once it (i.e.,
the intellect) is "there," it (i.e., the intellect) takes over and
goes about its task of thinking, pursuing the truth, etc. Hence
objectivity in this context means cutting away all extraneous
influences, letting the intellect do its work-the work it is
"essentially" equipped to do. Volitional influences have
"essentially" nothing to do with the achievement of objectivity.40 Secondly, in the order of specification, the intellect
•• Again, from the preceding discussion I hope it is clear that I do not wish lo
deny the validity of formal (essential) distinctions. I am simply affirming that
these distinctions are in a sense irrelevant in the existential order qua existential
order.
40 Again, I think
it is in the formal order that volitional influences have
esentially nothing to do with the achievement of objectivity:
otherwise one
would necessarily fall into the problem of voluntarism (or, variantly, historicism,

HISTORY,

OBJECTIVITY,

AND

MORAL

CONVERSION

583

provides the understanding necessary before the will can will.
This is taken to mean that the intellect understands literally
before the will wills. Hence the will's role is to accept or resist
the truth presented to it. 41 The act of the will is subsequent
to understanding, and hence again the role of the will is
" accidental " to the achievement of that understanding-i. e.,
the attainment of objectivity. The purpose of the discussion
in this section of our essay has been to show the fallacy of
such a position. While emphatically not denying what is
formally true in that position, our aim has been to show the
integral role of the will in the achievement of objectivity. 42
That is to say, our aim has been specifically to show that the
will is integrally (i.e., "essentially") related to the intellect
qua act.
Up to this point, then, I have attempted to show the integral
relation of will to intellect generally-i. e., irrespective of any
distinction between the " speculative" and " practical " orders.
My aim in the final section of this article is to take up discussion
of the relation between the intellect and will specifically in the
context of the question of the meaning of human existence.
That is to say, the specific intent I have in mind is that of
addressing-again in a Thomistic context-the problem of objectivity as it emerges in the context of questions bearing upon
ultimate meaning in human life.
The Thomistic text which is crucial for the discussion is the
following:
relativism, etc.). However, my point in this article is that this formal order must
finally be transcended if one is to be faithful to reality-i. e., if one is to recognize
the primacy of the act of existing.
41 This is basically the view taken by Frederick E. Crowe, S. J., in "Complacency
and Concern in the Thought of St. Thomas," Theological Studies, XX (19.59),
pp. 1-39, 198-230, 343-95, passim.
•• Hayen summarizes our thesis exactly: " Mais la perspective de saint Thomas
est tout autre: c'est une perspective concrete, celle de l'exercice actuel de l'activite
humaine. La volonte est intrinsequement constitutive de !'intellection, non
comme acte d' intellectuel, mais comme ACTE d' intellection; le jugement trouve sa
perfection dans !'engagement volontaire non pas comme acte de !'intelligence, mais
comme ACTE de connaissance. " (" Le lien de la connaissance et du vouloir dam
I' acte d' exister selon saint Thomas d' Aquin," Doctor communis. III (1950), 58.)

584

DAVID L. SCHINDLER

of necessity everything
sake of the ultimate endY

that man desires he desires for the

Thus-in terms of our problem-the question of ultimate
meaning is immanent in every human act (in a Thomistic
context, a human act is any act which proceeds ex voluntate
deliberata 44-from the " deliberated " will or the will according
to reason-or ex deliberatione rationis 45 -from the deliberation
of reason: in short, an act which proceeds from both reason
and will) . This is not at all to say that what that ultimate
meaning is is explicit in man's consciousness. It simply affirms
an unthematic dynamism for the good, for happiness, which is
operative in man and which is the driving force behind any and
all of his decisions. Implicit in each decision is a judgment
about what one thinks is good for oneself. That is to say, in
so far as one acts, he makes a decision regarding what he
considers to be good-i.e., meaningful for him. And this
decision implies-in the limit-a judgment about the good or
meaning for him in general-i.e., ultimate meaning. Thus
every human decision is at once both a formation of oneself
and a decision concerning the ultimate end in one's life. 46 The
implications of this position-in terms of the theme of this
article-are as follows. First of all, in every discussion which
bears upon the meaning of human existence-e. g., questions re
God, life, death, the nature and destiny of man, etc.,-and to
the precise extent that it does so, one necessarily comes to the
discussion already disposed toward an answer. One never confronts the subject matter in a " neutral " fashion: not being
neutral is synonymous with having lived. For man, to live is
to have acted, and to have acted is continuously to have
decided vis-a-vis the ultimate meaning in life. Again, the
"existentialist" perspective is decisive. For if one operates in
an essentialistic horizon there can be no question o£ any influ43 " •••

necesse est quod omnia quae homo appetit,

appetat

Summa Theol., I-II, q. 1, a. 6 .
.. Ibid., a. 1.
•• Ibid., ad. 3.
•• Cf., for example, Rahner, Hearers of the Word, p. 105.

finem."

propter ultimum

HISTORY,

OBJECTIVITY,

AND

MORAL

CONVERSION

.585

ence or disposition internal to one's reflections. Lived conditions
remain "essentially" extrinsic ("accidental") to the mind's
functioning. Thus, for example, in dealing with the problem
of a demonstration of God's existence the context is purely
cognitive: it is simply a question of the mind's "essential"
ability to effect such a demonstration. 47 In an " existentialist "
context, one the other hand, man's intelligence always functions
in the context of lived meaning, and this lived meaning, with
all its volitional and affective dimensions, is thus necessarily
structured into every context: that is, in the existental order,
there is never any purely cognitive (i.e., intellectual) context
for reflection.
We are now in a position, I think, to take up briefly the
problem of objectivity specifically in the context of the notoriour fact-value distinction (and by implication the distinction between N aturwissenschaften and Geisteswissen:whaften) .
There are first, then, the "facts" which we ordinarily associate
with the natural sciences-for example, the " facts " of the
physical chemistry of rocks. There are secondly the "facts"
which we ordinarily associate with the human sciences-i.e.,
human acts-for example, the "facts" of the Vietnam war.
The decisive difference between the two kinds of "facts" is
that the latter are constituted by meaning. 48 That is to say,
lived human meaning is constitutive of their very " reality " as
" facts." This is a precise implication of the position advanced
above that every human act is for the sake of the ultimate
end. 49 If this is true, it necessarily follows that every " fact "
which is a product of human activity-such as an act of war
and the like-is precisely an embodiment of meaning vis-a-vis
the ultimate meaning in human life.
The implications of this in terms of a notion of objectivity
are twofold: there is first a kind of objectivity proper to the
natural sciences: for the " facts " of natural science are not
41 Such seems to
the context for the statement at Vatican I regarding the
mind's ability to effect a demonstration of God's existence.
"Such a position is central to the work of Dilthey. Cf. also Bernard Lonergan,
"Dimensions of Meaning," in Collection, pp. 252-267.
•• Cf. n. 43 above.

586

DAVID L. SCHINDLER

"essentially" constituted by lived human meaning. Judgments, for example, regarding the physical chemistry of rocks
are not built into the very fiber and structure of one's ongoing
decisions-simply because such judgments bear only peripherally on the question of the meaning of human existence. One
thus comes to reflection on such a topic in a somewhat neutral
fashion: he has not built up habits of thought (action, volition,
affectivity, etc.) with respect to the subject matter. Hence
attainment of objectivity in this realm demands no special
"moral conversion" with regard to that subject matter. Nevertheless, as I have attempted to show-in a Thomistic contextin the preceding arguments, a kind of " moral conversion" is
still necessary inasmuch as the will to truth is necessary for the
knowledge of truth. That is to say, willing is necessarily
immanent in the act of knowing. Hence even in the domain of
the natural sciences (i.e., " speculative " sciences generally) a
notion of objectivity which excludes the dynamic input-here
volitional and affective-of the subject is fallacious. And in
this sense the erecting of a difference between a notion of
objectivity proper to the natural sciences and another proper
to the human sciences in invalid. All knowing is simultaneously
and with equal necessity an achievement of willing. In sum, all
objectivity is the achievement of human subjectivity. 50
50 In other words, this is an important
sense in which any dichotomy between
an Ekliirung proper to the natural sciences and a Verstehen proper to the human
sciences is invalid. For additional ways of showing the fallacy of such a dichotomy,
cf. Lonergan, Method in Theology, pp. 212-13, and Michael Polanyi, The Study of
Man (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1959), pp. 78-85. I am in full
agreement with the positions of both men. In connection with Polanyi, however,
I should like to point out that my discussion takes place within a considerably
narrower horizon: that is to say, the focus of my concern is on the nature of
the specifically moml involvement of the scholar in his investigations. Though a
kind of moral commitment (i.e., purely " formal " with
to subject matter:
the ongoing willing of the truth) is immanent in the investigations proper to both
kinds of science, a distinct kind of moral commitment (i. e., both " formal "
and "material" with respect to subject matter) is necessary when the "facts"
under investigation
are essentially constituted
by moral (i. e., distinctively
human) acts-as in the case of the " human sciences." Hence my conclusion,
though articulated
a narrow context, is nonetheless in essential agreGment
with that reached by Polanyi (op. cit., p. 85): "A theory of knowledge which
regards the study of history [i.e., human sciences generally] as akin to the natural
sciences and acknowledges the fact that history [human science] refers to a distinc-

HISTORY,

OBJECTIVITY,

AND

MORAL

CONVERSION

587

On the other hand, there is an important sense in which the
distinction is valid. For in the human sciences the " facts "
with which one deals are largely constituted by lived human
meaning: they are embodiments of value regarding man, God,
and the final sense of the world. 51 Hence one never comes to
reflection on such "facts " in neutral fashion: to the extent
one has lived one has necessarily already built into oneself
values regarding such " facts." Hence one's cognitive grasp of
such "facts" is radically affected by one's decisions vis-a-vis
the values embodied in these facts. One's perception of these
"facts" always and necessarily involves a decision regarding
one's own values. Hence objectivity in the human sciences
demands a kind of moral conversion over and above that
necessary to both kinds of science: that is to say, while both
sciences demand a kind of "formal" moral conversion (i.e.,
purely formal with respect to subject matter-the ongoing willing of the truth) , the human sciences demand also a moral
conversion with respect to content (i.e., material with respect
to subject matter-the ongoing disposition to convert oneself
to the new and better values concerning the ultimate meaning
in life which may be embodied in that subject matter) .
In summary, then, I have argued in this essay that the distinction between act of (human) being and formal structure,
and the emphasis on the primacy of the former, enables us
(1) generally to develop a sound notion of historicity and
objectivity-i.e., to show that history is intrinsic to man, while
not being (simply) destructive of his enduring self-identity;
and (2) specifically to show the integral relation of will to
intellect while not confusing their proper roles-precisely by
tive leV'el of reality, neither accepts nor rejects the ' secession ' of history [human
science] from the domain of science." Further, in my narrowing of the context,
I do not at all intend to deny that there are many other kinds of value judgments
(i.e., kinds of "indwelling of the observer in his subject-matter")
which are
common to both kinds of science, and hence that the continuity in methods between
the two sciences can be more broadly conceived (as in Polanyi, op. cit., pp. 80-81).
51 Cf. n. 48 above.
For a discussion of this position in terms of the fact-value
dichotomy, cf. Leo Strauss, Natural Right and History (Chicago: University o£
Chicago Press, 1953), pp. 35-80.

588

DAVID L. SCHINDLER

transcending the mechanistic horizon so endemic to much of
the traditional manual discussion of the problem. In more
general systematic terms, affirmation of the primacy of the act
of existing (i.e., of the concrete order) has led us to the thesis
that all judgments of truth are simultaneously, and with equal
necessity, the consequence of both intellectual and moral conversion: in questions bearing upon the meaning of human
existence, the moral conversion is both formal and material
with respect to the subject matter; in other questions, the
conversiOn IS only formal. 52
DAVID

L. SCHINDLER

Pitzer College
Clarement, California

52 An
authentic " intellectualism, " then, demands a kind of thoroughgoing
" voluntarism " precisely in the sense that the will is always integral to the act
of understanding.

LONERGAN'S METHOD IN THEOLOGY AND
OBJECTIVITY IN MORAL THEOLOGY

T

HE PUBLICATION of Bernard Lonergan's longawaited Method in Theology 1 is an event that
promises to further much-needed discussion on the
question of method in moral theology. The discussion has
been underway for some time, but in the welter of comments
and suggestions it is obvious that broad agreement has not
been reached, in spite of some common ground among the
discussants.
In this essay we propose to outline briefly a possible contribution of Bernard Lonergan to the on-going discussion among
moral theologians, with particular reference to the problem of
objectivity in morals.

I.
Method in Theology is a significant attempt to integrate
values into the very definition of theology. Lonergan conceives
of theology as a related series of " functional specialties," 2 but
the foundation of "mediated theology," which includes the
doctrinal affirmations and systematic elaborations of moral
theology, is established by "conversion." 3
Conversion can be three-fold, according to Lonergan: intellectual, moral, or religious. Intellectual conversion is the
elimination of the myth of the " already out there now real "
as the criterion of reality, objectivity, and human knowing.
For the intellectually converted, knowing is not like seeing;
1 New York:
Herder and Herder, 1972.
• The notion gained some familiarity from the publication of the chapter on
functional specialities in Gregorianum 40 (1969), pp. 485-504.
pages.
• On conversion see Method, pp. 287-44. What follows summarizes
We should state clearly from the beginning that conversion for Lonergan is not
an event within theology. But it is within the horizons established by the
conversions that the theologizing subject operates.

589

590

JOHN P. BOYLE

the real is not what is " out there " to be looked at. Rather the
real world is the world mediated by meaning and not the world
of immediate experience. The real world is that which is
known by a cognitional process of experiencing, understanding,
judging, i.e., by a process of progressive cognitional self-transcendence.
Moral conversion means a shift from satisfaction to values
as the criteria of one's decisions and choices. The realization
of such a shift, however, can be a long process even after a
basic choice has been made.
Religious conversion is the culmination of this process of
self-transcendence:
Religious conversion is to a total being-in-love as the efficacious
ground of all self-transcendence, whether in the pursuit of truth, or
in the realization of human values, or in the orientation man adopts
to the universe, its ground, and its goaJ.4
The relationship of the conversions to one another is one of
sublation in Karl Rahner's sense: what sublates goes beyond
what is sublated, introduces something new and distinct, puts
everything on a new basis; yet so far from interfering with the
sublated or destroying it, it includes it, preserves all its proper
features and properties, and carries them forward to a fuller
realization within a richer context.
Conversion, therefore, implies a radical shift in the horizon
within which meanings and values are perceived. 5 And in
that fact lies a point of interest to the contemporary discussion
among moralists.
As a preliminary remark, we note a comment Vernon Bourke
makes at the conclusion of the chapter on axiological ethics
in his History of Ethics:
• Lonergan, Method, p. 241.
5 Lonergan describes a horizon thus:
" So there has arisen a metaphorical or
perhaps analogous meaning of the word, horizon. In this sense what lies beyond
one's horizon is simply outside the range of one's knowledge and interests: one
neither knows nor cares. But what lies within one's horizon is in some measure,
great or small, an object of interest and of knowledge. (Method, p. 286) The
description differs verbally, but not in content, from the often quoted definition in
"Metaphysics as Horizon," in Collection, ed. by Frederick E. Crowe, S. J. (New
York: Herder and Herder, 1967), pp. 218-14.

LONERGAN'S

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In a sense value ethics has been too successful. Practically all
ethicians now talk about values and mean many different things
when they use the term. As a result, the notion of value has become
so diluted that it is almost a transcendental term in contemporary
ethics. Value enabled people to discuss the possibility of a rather
ill-defined realm of moral standards without too clearly committing
themselves on their status in being. And so, except for its usefulness
as a general term, value is no longer a major item in strictly contemporary ethics. 6
James M. Gustafson writes in a similar vein about value
theory, although he sees the possibility of further theological
discussion if phenomenology becomes important. 7
It is precisely to the phenomenology of Max Scheler and
Dietrich von Hildebrand that Lonergan has turned for the
description of value found in his chapter on the " Human
Good." 8
The " status in being " of value is not in doubt for Lonergan. Value is a "transcendental notion," i.e., that to which
the dynamism of conscious intentionality is directed when
a man asks questions for deliberation and decision. As a
transcendental notion, value is in the same category as truth
and being, which are the transcendental notions to which the
dynamism of a man's questions for understanding and reflection
are directed. The " objective status" of value, like that of
being, is therefore defined in correlation with the dynamic
activity of man's intentional consciousness.
One of the most interesting developments of Lonergan's more
recent work, in contrast with the chilly rationalism of Insight,
is his account of feelings and the development of feelings with
reference to values. His account is borrowed almost entirely-and quite uncritically 9-from von Hildebrand's Christian
• History of Ethics (Garden City: Doubleday, 1968), p. 248.
James M. Gustafson, "Christian Ethics," in Religion, ed. by Paul Ramsey
(Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1965), pp. 340-41.
8 Lonergan, Method, pp. 27-56.
9 James M. Gustafson, for example, referring to the work of Nicolai Hartmann,
points out the conflicting ways in which men have valued all sorts of things. The
phenomenological adequacy of the work of Scheler and von Hildebrand, and the
validity of axiological ethics generally, must be a major issue in the evaluation of
7

JOHN P. BOYLE

Ethics/ 0 There is no need to repeat here the details of the
analysis of intentional feeling responses and the scale of preferences which von Hildebrand describes. We note, however, that
there are for von Hildebrand and Lonergan not only transient
feelings but also states of feeling, and in particular "being-inlove," which Lonergan identifies with the results of religious
conversiOn.
Lonergan's sketch of the moral subject is briefly but rather
fully developed, from the level of feeling through the ascending
levels of intentional consciousness: experience, understanding,
judging, and deciding. " Being-in-love" with God, religious
conversion, is an event at the very apex animae which sweeps
up the whole conscious subject. The existential decisions of
the subject are what constitute his very being as a conscious,
responsible human being. Religious conversion brings a man to
the very peak of human self-transcendence. 11
This briefest of sketches indicates that Lonergan provides a
portrait of the functioning, maturing moral subject that can
bring together a number of themes in the contemporary
discussion.
At the level of feelings, Lonergan, following Scheler and von
Hildebrand, affirms an intentional response by the subject to
value. An analysis of the scale of preference indicated by
responses to values gives an insight into the variety and
hierarchy of values. But the perception of values is but the
first level at which the moral subject functions. At a higher
level of consciousness he must make a value judgment. And
it is here that Lonergan makes some interesting suggestions.
One of them has to do with the nature of "objectivity " in
morals and thus also with the nature of moral " absolutes."
Lonergan's contribution to theological method. See Gustafson's Christian Ethics
and the Community (Philadelphia:
Pilgrim Press, 1971), pp. 144-49, reprinted
from the Proceedings of the Catholic Theological Society of America
(1969),
pp. 96-108.
10 New York:
David McKay, 1953. (Reprinted Chicago: Franciscan Herald
Press,
11 See the earlier remarks
of Lonergan on subjectivity in The Subject, The
Aquinas Lecture, 1968. (Milwaukee: Marquette University Press, 1968)

LONERGAN's

"METHOD

IN THEOLOGY"

593

According to Lonergan/ 2 value judgments are objective or
merely subjective inasmuch as they proceed or do not proceed
from a self-transcending subject. The criterion of their authenticity is authenticity or the lack of it in the moral subject.
Just as man's drive to rationality compels assent to a judgment
when the evidence is sufficient and refuses assent when it is
not, so the drive to value rewards success in self-transcendence
with a happy conscience and saddens failures with an unhappy
conscience. 13
It would be well to stress at this point that for Lonergan
the subject is always located in a matrix of inter-subjective
relations. The world mediated by meaning in which the adult
lives his life is the world of language and culture. Moral objectivity is not, therefore, measured by the satisfaction of an
isolated individual's subjectivity but by the good conscience
of the virtuous man who is a part of an historically and culturally situated community of moral agents seeking authentic selftranscendence.14 That self-transcendence, of course, consists
in doing the good, not merely in making correct judgments
about it.
Such a conception of morals and moral judgments, which
parallels and expands upon Lonergan's ideas about metaphysics
presented in Insight, would seem to demand a reconsideration
of the notion of " absolute " with its underlying metaphysics
which has played so prominent a role in traditional Catholic
moral theology. 15
Value judgments for Lonergan include three elements: a
knowledge of reality, an intentional response to value, and an
initial thrust toward moral self-transcendence constituted by
Lonergan, Method, pp. 36-41.
Lonergan, Method, p. 35. See Insight, pp. fl84-85 for Lonergan's parallel
description of the " invulnerable insight. "
uSee Insight, p. fl86 and Lonergan's remarks there about the self-correcting
process of learning. See also Bernard Lonergan, "Revolution in Catholic Theology,"
in Proceedings of the Catholic Theological Society of America 27 (1972), pp. 18-23.
15 See Josef Arntz
" Die Entwicklung des naturrechtlichen Denkens innerhalb
des Thomismus" in Das Naturrecht im Disput, ed. by Franz Bockle (Dusseldorf:
Patmos, 1966), pp. 87-1fl0.
10
13

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JOHN P. BOYLE

the value judgment itself. Lonergan thus rejects an empty
moral idealism divorced from experience of human life and
points out that the moral judgment is itself an ingredient in the
constitution of the subject as a moral agent, as a self-transcending being. Moral conversion, i. e., the initial option to
make values and not satisfactions the criteria of one's actions,
is only the first step in the process of moral growth which
constitutes the subject a principle of benevolence and beneficence, which develops affectivity into a single piece and
realizes Augustine's maxim, love God and do what you will.16
Lonergan, therefore, has something significant to say to
the on-going discussion in moral theology on the subjects of
value, value perception, value judgment, moral decision, and
the constitution of the self-transcending moral and religious
subject.
There is another tool which Lonergan's methodology provides which could prove useful to moral theology. That tool
is the functional specialty he describes as "dialectic." It is in
dialectic that differences in theological positions that have
emerged in research, interpretation, and historical study are
handled. Differences in doctrines and systematics are often
rooted in research, interpretation, and historical study, and the
differences in " mediated theology " could thus be handled in
dialectic too.
In dialectic the roots of these differences are explored. Such
roots are not to be found by the application of the canons of
method proper to the diverse functional specialties but in the
differing subjects and their variously differentiated consciousnesses, and in the presence or absence of the three conversions
in them. It is Lonergan's contention that apparently irreconcilable differences are attributable to the presence or absence of
the conversions in one or other of the disputing subjects, or
they are attributable to the fact that one or other of the
subjects has not achieved the differentiation of consciousness
requisite to handle the conflict. The identification of the root
18

Lonergan, Method, pp. 88-89. See The Subject, pp. 19-!!0.

LONERGAN's

"METHOD

IN THEOLOGY"

595

of differences among theologians will, hopefully, lead to that
new differentiation of consciousness or conversion which will
create a new horizon within which differences can be resolved.
It is not our purpose to repeat the details of Lonergan's explanation 17 but rather to offer an example of how dialectics might
function in the contemporary discussion.

II.
Questions about objectivity, value, and the dispositions of
the moral subject have been much discussed in recent contributions to the discussion of method in moral theology .18 Among
those commenting most frequently on this and other epistemological questions in moral theology is John Giles Milhaven. 19
Recently Milhaven has devoted an essay to " Objective Moral
Evaluation of Consequences." 20 His essay is in response to the
work of Gustafson, 21 a point worth noting since Milhaven
nowhere in his article defines the sense in which " objective "
is being used.
For his part, Gustafson is concerned about the problem of
objectivity in morals, as he suggests in the remark:
... For Christians, and many others presumably, love is at work,
not merely as a word to be defined and as a subject of propositions
so that inferences can be drawn from it, but love as a human
relationship, which can both move and inform the other virtues,
including prudence and equity (to make a reference to St. Thomas).
All of this does not mean that a moral judgment is a total mystery,
it does not mean that it is without objectivity. 22
Lonergan, Method, pp.
See, for example, James M. Gustafson, "Moral Discernment in the Christian
Life," in Norm and Context in Christian Ethics, ed. by Gene H. Outka and Paul
Ramsey (New York: Scribners, 1968), pp. 17-36.
19 See his Toward a New Catholic Morality
(Garden City: Doubleday, 1970),
especially pp.
and 69-84.
20 Theological Studies
(1971), pp. 407-30.
21 Milhaven, " Objective Moral Evaulation, " p. 407 n.
22 James
M. Gustafson, "A Protestant Ethical Approach," in The Morality
of Abortion: Legal and Historical Perspectives, ed. by John T. Noonan, Jr
(Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1970), pp.
at p. 113. Emphasis
added.
11

18

596

JOHN P. BOYLE

Or again, after discussing a case in which he found abortion
to be legitimate:
. . . There can be no guarantee of an objectively right action in
the situation I have discussed, since there are several values which
are objectively important, but which do not resolve themselves into
a harmonious relation to each other. Since there is not a single,
overriding determination of what constitutes a right action, there
can be no unambiguously right action. 23

Milhaven had already written that actions are to be adjudged right or wrong in the light of their consequences. The
rightness or wrongness of the consequences is decided in view
of values which are immediately intuited. 24 In his recent
article Milhaven investigates the objectivity of this moral
evaluation of consequences.
In the absence of an explicit statement by either writer, we
must be appropriately tentative, but both seem to appeal for
objectivity to the correspondence between the moral evaluation
one arrives at and some state of affairs already out there in
the world of moral values.
Still, Milhaven does not hesitate to cite Gustafson's description of the affective element in moral discernment and conclude
that the affective stance of the moral agent inescapably influences his moral judgment and can be responsible for some
of the objective insight the individual has into value.
Far from being blind, love can enable a man to see more value
than he would otherwise have seen. 25

What is remarkable here is not the introduction of a subjective disposition, love, but the suggestion, given without
further explanation, that such dispositions help produce a more
objective moral evaluation. 26
•• Ibid., p. 119. Emphasis added.
See Milhaven, Toward a New Catholic Morality, pp. 132-34.

24

Milhaven, " Objective Moral Evaluation, " p. 421. Emphasis in original.
•• In support of this position Milhaven cites another of the participants in the
discussion of his consequence-empiricism, Richard A. McCormick, S. J., who wrote:
" For it is virtue that orders the appetite and it is the well-ordered appetite
which orders the person to obj-ective goals." "Christian Significance and Human
25

LONERGAN's

"METHOD

IN THEOLOGY"

597

The role of the affective dispositions of the moral subject
is of further interest because Milhaven cites Robert 0. Johann's
statement that reality is disclosed to us only in experience (a
term Milhaven does not further define):
... In short, we think in order to act better. But we shall act
better only if the map is accurate. The validity of our theories
rests on their conformity to what is disclosed. If, unexpectedly,
they lead us into a swamp, the map should be revised. 27
These brief indications would seem to authorize the conclusion that for both Gustafson and Milhaven the "objective" is
being contrasted with the " subjective," and that in morals the
" objective" is what corresponds to reality, i. e., to the world
of moral values disclosed to us in experience.
Gustafson has discussed at length the role of the dispositions
of the subject in moral discernment; McCormick has alluded
to the role of the virtues. Milhaven in turn takes up the role
of the dispositions of the moral agent in moral discernment.
He does so by referring to Pierre Rousselot's analysis of the
act of faith, with its notion that love enables the believer to
find in the evidence for faith new and adequate grounds for
belief. Trying to explain how faith can be both free and
rational, Rousselot concludes that " Liberty generates evidence." Milhaven paraphrases, "Love creates new evidence." 28
Now I would suggest that all this gives a rather unusual
extension to the word "objective," especially if its sense is that
suggested earlier, i. e., a corespondence with some reality " out
there" which is disclosed in "experience." Unless perhaps
Rousselot offers a more nuanced notion of experience.
Milhaven finds suggestive Rousselot's notion that " evidence
for the intellect is generated not only by incoming facts and
Significance" in Norm and Context, cd. by Outka and Ramsey pp. 233-61, cited by
Milhaven at pp. 454-55.
•• Robert 0. Johann, Building the Human (New York:
Herder and Herder,
1968), pp. 17-18, cited by Milhaven at p. 419.
28 Milhaven,
" Objective Moral Evaluation, " p. 424. The theories of Rousselot
are discussed at length by Roger Aubert, in Le probleme de l'acte de foi (3rd ed.
Louvain; Warney, 1958), pp. 422-70.

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JOHN P. BOYLE

ideas but by the 'synthesizing activity ' of the intellect itself
. . . Love and liberty merely stimulate the dynamism of the
intellect to generate evidence." 29 Nevertheless, Milhaven does
not discuss at any length Rousselot's thomistic epistemology.
He is content to accept, at least tentatively, Rousselot's contention that evidence is not just what comes in from the outside
but is somehow the product of the mind's own activity. At the
very least this concession (if indeed it is that) is quite a shift
away from the Humean empiricism on which Milhaven has
often insisted.
From this now-modified notion of the source and meaning
of evidence Milhaven concludes that, for the consequentialist,
it is consistent to maintain that
the lived love of the individual gives him objective insight into the
respective worth of the values he has experienced.
And he asks:
would not such insight, after emprical data and analysis indicate
what consequences are in a given situation likely to follow on the
various decisions possible, make possible an objective evaluation of
these consequences?
In other words, consequentialism's ultimate reliance on the
experience of values to evaluate consequences objectively, could be
justified by a love epistemology. 30
How then can one assure himself that his appraisals of the
values in a given situation are "fully objective?" Milhaven
suggests the test of action.
If the whole life of a given doctor contains little service, direct or

indirect, of the poor, then it is unlikely that he has the pertinent
affective orientation or the consequent objective insight into the
disvalue of poverty. On the other hand, there is some ground for
hoping that one who consistently serves the poor at personal
sacrifice has objective appreciation of the evil.31
29

Milhaven, p. 424.

Ibid. emphasis added.
31 Ibid., p. 425.

30

LONERGAN's

" METHOD IN THEOLOGY "

599

The limitations of this technique when applied to epistemological problems are clear, but Milhaven's presumption appears to be that values and disvalues like " consistent service,"
"personal sacrifice" and "little service, direct or indirect" are
obvious enough to answer the question of who is loving and
thus capable of discerning the objectively good.
Milhaven then proposes moral education, especially one oriented to experience and active involvement, as a tool of increasing objectivity by the " spiral of affective involvement and
understanding of value." The kind of affective involvement he
has in mind is illustrated by the experience of members of the
American Society for Christian Ethics in 1970, when they spent
some time living in a black community. They returned from
the experience " with a far more objective assessment of the
values involved in the black question than if they had discussed
it among themselves in another milieu." 32 The anger of black
theologians generated " a more objective evaluation of the
wrong done the blacks and the urgency for action such as the
black power movement." And Milhaven adds: "Such anger is,
of course, a form of love." 33 Here " objectivity " seems to
include the appropriate affective intensity with which values
and disvalues are perceived. In any event,
Whether it be one's own personal experience or the shared experience of another, only experience generates the love that makes
possible insight into values and disvalues. 84

We are not told what " experience " means, nor are we told
how this sentence can be reconciled with Rousselot's conception
of the dynamism of the intellect and its synthesizing activity,
which earlier were said to generate evidence. We have been
told, however, that experience generates love and that love
generates evidence from some kind of experience. The role of
subjectivity in this generation of evidence from experience
under the influence of love is not at all clear.
""Ibid., pp.
•• Ibid., p.
•• Ibid., p.

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JOHN P. BOYLE

III.
By contrast, the role of experience and the dispositions of
the subject in evaluating the sufficiency of evidence is clearly
formulated by Lonergan. He does not believe that " love generates evidence " for a value judgment. Human intentionality
at the level of moral self-transcendence produces a value judgment in response to value, i. e., in response to questions for
deliberation and decision. What then is the function of love?
Lonergan contends that love transforms the subject and trans-values his values in the sense that being-in-love opens the subject fully to the perception of the whole universe of values
and adds a note of efficacy to one's apprehension of values by
a change in one's antecedent willingness to do the good he
apprehends. 35
"Evidence" here is used in much the same sense in which
Lonergan uses the term in Insight to describe the conditions
which must be fulfilled if a judgment-an affirmation or
negation-is to be possible. A judgment which is made when
the requisite conditions have been fulfilled Lonergan calls a
"virtually unconditioned judgment." 36 The requisite conditions for a judgment are known to be fulfilled when there are
no further questions to be asked. " The link between the
conditioned (the judgment) and its conditions is a law immanent and operative in cognitional process." 37 But the
ability to make good judgments, to recognize that there are
indeed no further pertinent questions, is an acquired ability
and demands experience, the acquisition of habits of thought
that tradition since Aristotle has called intellectual virtues.
The analysis of value judgments in Method in Theology is
analogous. The criterion of the objectivity of value judgments
is not measuring them against some reality at which one takes
a look. Instead the criterion is the satisfaction of man's moral
35 " Bernard
Lonergan Responds," in Foundations of Theology, ed. by Philip
McShane (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan, 1971), p. 226.
86 Judgment is studied at length in Chapter x of Insight, pp. 279-316.
87 Ibid., p. 284.

LONERGAN's

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601

being by moral judgments which are made by an authentically
self-transcending subject-a morally virtuous man.
Dialectic reveals, therefore, that what we have here is a
contrast between what Lonergan calls the " position " and the
"counterposition" in cognitional theory. 38 The identification of
the issue sets the stage of the reversal of counterpositions and
the development of positions, if one is to be faithful to the
imperatives of conscious intentional life: be attentive, be
intelligent, be reflective, be responsible.
It is the contribution of dialectic to locate the roots of differences. In the case we have been examining, the issue between
Lonergan and Milhaven over the nature of objectivity and the
status in being of value can be shown to have its roots in their
contrasting positions in epistemology and cognitional theory.
In the present state of the discussion of moral theology it
is surely a major contribution to proceed in a methodical way
to locate differences where they in fact are-often enough not
immediately at the level of ethics but at the level of metaphysics, epistemology or cognitional theory. It remains to be
seen whether Lonergan's exposition of cognitional theory will
precipitate the moral and intellectual conversions which might
finally resolve outstanding differences among moral theologians.
JOHN

University of Iowa
Iowa City, Iowa

88

Lonergan, Method, pp. 251-54.

P. BoYLE

A WORD ON BEHALF OF METHOD IN THEOLOGY

I

N AVOWEDLY PRACTICING their discipline theologians often perform the widest variety of operations.
Perhaps this is true as well of engineers and physicists.
They however have not occupied the attention of Bernard J.
F. Lonergan during the past decade. Neither, to be exact
about the matter, have theologians. But theology surely hasif one can validly distinguish it from its practitioners and the
functions they as a matter of fact combine in their professional
activities. Method in Theology argues that one not only can
but should so distinguish. Indeed the whole point it seeks to
make is simply missed if this is forgotten. That, I submit,
would be a tragic fate, for this study bids fair to leave its
mark long after most of its reviewers and critics are dead and
forgotten. Of course, such a truth claim calls for some sort
of corroboration.
Theology seeks to mediate between a cultural matrix and the
influence of religion in that matrix. (p. xi) So B. J. F. Lonergan
advises his reader at the outset of his long awaited book. 1
Whatever the theologian as such should be about, religion
appears as central in the undertaking. And religion is the
experience of unrestricted love giving rise to knowledge
(faith) and the latter's articulation or objectification (belief).
Beliefs, to put it somewhat differently, result from judgments
of value coming from faith, the eye of religious love, an eye
that can discern God's self-disclosures. (p. 119) Cognitum
quod et quia prius amatum. This is one pole of what theology
is all about. The other is culture or the set of meanings and
values that inform a community and contribute to making the
latter what it is as distinct from all others.
1

Method in Theology (New York: Herder and Herder, 19'1!).

A WORD ON BEHALF OF " METHOD IN THEOLOGY "

603

Theology seeks to mediate in this sense. It is carried out
within a particular culture and under the latter's influence.
But, of course, so are other intellectual endeavors. Theology
is nevertheless different and for this reason. Within that culture
it seeks to understand religious love; the knowledge the latter
gives rise to; the objectification of that knowledge; and the
influence of all these on culture itself. A quest of understanding
the varying relationships between culture and religious faith is
therefore a fair way to describe what Lonergan means by the
theological enterprise.
Today it is widely recognized that the components of culture
change rapidly and combine various forms or clusters throughout the world. Furthermore the ways of objectifying faith,
even the same faith, are numerous. Augsburg and Trent
provide good examples. As a result theologians understandably
do very different sorts of things while plying their trade. To
speak of the general characteristics of theologizing, to describe
the method of a particular theology as distinct from anotherboth would make for a reasonable task or project. But to
write a book entitled Method in Theology and put the emphasis on the singular of both substantives probably strikes
many as pretentious and unrealistic. This, however, is precisely
what Lonergan has been about full time for ten years at least.
Many did not grasp this when they looked for a different style
of lecturing in his public appearances and expected him to enter
more enthusiastically into discussion periods following his
speaking engagements. A natural shyness and continuing struggle with poor health had much to do with his reserve on
such occasions; but there is more as well. He really has been
a man with a ten-year program and one who stuck to that
plan with utmost discipline. If his stage presence and mannerisms as a lecturer replying to audiences on such occasions are
made the basis on which history will judge his achievements,
that would be unfortunate. If the challenges proceeding from
Insight and Method in Theology are a more decisive factor,
his influence will prove to be lasting and beneficial. But how
and why?

604

CARL J. PETER
VVHAT SoRT oF

As early as 1964 Robert Richard, an astute young theologian
destined for a premature death, observed that if ours is an age
of exegesis, criticism, and historical research, it is also one of
theoretical science. The context of a general theory of human
understanding was where he thought Lonergan's contribution
to a study of the development of Christian doctrine ought to
be located. 2 To be sure, there was no implication that he
thought Lonergan had proposed a full-blown theory covering
the gamut of Christian doctrine. In fact, there were at the
time and still remain unanswered questions regarding the
wider application of the hypothesis Lonergan proposed to
elucidate trinitarian and christological development. 3
recently Professor David Burrell has argued that Lonergan
offered no theory of cognition in Insight with the result that
the work in question is to be understood as an invitation rather
than an overview. 4 But saying that Lonergan, despite his
wide-ranging research and conclusions, has offered no comprehensive theory of doctrinal development or of human cognition
is one thing. Furthermore, those who observe that the present
work contains few surprises regarding its author's views of
theological method are right. But none of this implies that he
has failed to make a significant contribution to any and perhaps
all of these three areas. Indeed it is my conviction that the
present work will be looked back on as one of the most comprehensive efforts made so far in this century to challenge
readers to understand what should go by the name of theologizing. That, of course, is an assertion more easily made than
2 Robert
L. Richard, S. J., "Contribution to a Theory of Doctrinal Development," in Continuum fl (1964), p. 5fll.
3 In addition to the article cited above, Richard
also raised certain questions in
his article " Changeable and Unchangeable Elements in Conciliar Teaching" in
the Proceedings of the Catholic Theological Society of America flfl (1967), 24-7. In
an ecumenical perspective, cf. George A. Lindbeck, "Protestant Problems with
Lonergan on the Development of Dogma," in Foundations of Theology (Dublin:
Gill, 1971; ed. by Phillip McShane), pp. 115-fl3.
• David Burrell, "Method and Sensibility: Novak's Debt to Lonergan," in
J oumal of the American Academy of Religion 3 (1972), 349-67.

A WORD ON BEHALF OF " METHOD IN THEOLOGY "

605

corroborated. The verdict of history will come in slowly; in
the meanwhile a word can be said to back up the contention
even from this point in time. That is intended in what follows.
Lonergan's work rests on a conviction that is easily articulated. In the procedures of the human mind one can discern
a basic pattern of operations employed in every cognitional
enterprise. (p. 4) Man's intentionality or active interiority
involves a sequence of experience, understanding, judgment,
and choice. Any effort to demonstrate this conviction would
beg the question and rest on the confident exercise of the same
operations. Hence Lonergan's purpose has not been to make a
case that these are in fact the ultimate foundations of cognition
and volition but to cha.llenge readers and students to look
within themselves to see whether this is or is not the way
they function intellectually .5 This was, it seems clear enough,
the purpose of Insight, on which Method in Theology very
obviously depends.
In fact, one might describe the logical pattern followed in
Method in the following fashion. If every cognitional enterprise that is complete involves a basic pattern of operations,
then theology as a cognitional enterprise does as well. It does
not follow that everything that goes by the name of theology
or deserves it will either involve all those operations or possess
the name theology only by grace and favor. Nor is it impied
that there can be no specialization within theology as a result
of which one of those operations rather than the others becomes
the object of major concern for the practitioner. What is more,
schools and departments of theology should not expect to find
in those operations and the corresponding functional specializations a ready-made basis for a reorientation of their program
or curriculum. Still this logic does have its consequences. If
theology is a cognitional enterprise and in every instance of the
latter that is complete there is a basic pattern of operations,
then theology at a particular period or place is obtruncated if
the influence of any one of those operations is missing as a
functional specialization. One individual may perform several
• In this Professor Burrell's assessment of Insight seems very accurate. See note 4.

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CARL J. PETER

of those functions. A number of individuals may perform one.
But none of those functions can be lacking without the
discipline's suffering badly.
Writing a book entitled Method in Theology, Lonergan knew
people would expect him to mean something definite by
method. He does. It stands for a normative pattern of recurrent and related operations yielding cumulative and progressive
results. (p. 5) The natural and behavioral sciences have
methods in such a sense. But too often it seems that taste,
preference, and fancy are the determining factors in what the
theologian does; why he does that rather than something else;
and why doing that is supposedly doing theology rather than
literary criticism or philosophy of religion. 6
To put it somewhat differently, Lonergan speaks of method
rather than methods in theology because he is convinced there
is a structure basic to human knowing and choosing and
because he thinks that structure must characterize the theological enterprise as well. As a result, if it is an intellectual
discipline, theology must involve levels of experience, understanding, judgment, and decision. But how do the latter
enter into the mediation between a cultural matrix and the role
of religion therein?
As an inquiry theology concerns itself with the influence of
religion on man and the influence of men thus influenced on
other people, events, and things. In the first sense theology is
mediating; it mediates an encounter with the past (through
texts and other instruments to persons behind them) and
leads through experience, understanding, and judgment to
corresponding decision or conversion. But if theology involves
an encounter with the past, it also leads to another stage.
That is when the theologian, enlightened by the past, confronts
the problems of his own day and takes his stand toward the
future. (p. 133) Then theology is inquiry mediated to others.
6 I have tried
to elaborate on this ·elsewhere; cf. " Christian Eschatology and
a Theology of Exceptions" in Transcendence and Immanence:
Reconstruction
in the Light of Process Thinking-Festschrift
in Honor of Joseph Papin (Saint
Meinrad: Abbey Press, 1972), pp. 141-50.

A WORD ON BEHALF OF " METHOD IN THEOLOGY "

607

At that point the decision in which mediating theology spontaneously culminates is reflected on, illuminated, and objectified. This provides the horizon in which doctrines are affirmed;
their content is understood; and possibilities of communication to others are explored. Theology as inquiry both
mediates and is mediated.
The four levels of structured human knowing and choosing
occur in each of these two phases of theology but in reverse
order. What results are specializations based on function. For
Lonergan, there are eight such functions: research, interpretation, history, dialectic, foundations, doctrines, systematics, and
communications. One practicing a functional specialization
operates on all four levels of consciousness but with the goal
of pursuing the end of one rather than the other three. Thus
the systematician experiences, understands, judges, and chooses
in an inquiry seeking to understand doctrines within the
horizon objectifying authentic conversion. And the researcher
engages in all four levels of activity in an effort to determine as
accurately as possible what the data from the past are that
provide the grounds for efforts to understand, judge, and
undergo conversion. If communications and pastoral theology
involve consummate skill and artistry and at times profound
understanding and erudition, they really aim at providing
occasions and data for others to experience and react to
religiously. This then is a sketch of the method Lonergan
thinks theology must embody on the pain of ceasing either to
be a cognitive enterprise or one concerned with religion in a
cultural matrix.
WHY SIGNIFICANT?

Lonergan's achievement has been discussed very ably by
Professor David Tracy. 7 But that was before Method in
Theology appeared in final form and before a number of other
developments had taken place in the world of thought today.
As a result it may not be repetitious to see what if any con1 David Tracy, The Achievement of Bernard Lonergan (New York:
Herder, 1970).

Herder and

608

CARL J. PETER

tribution the present work makes in four important areas of
concern at present.
In the limited but crucial field of theological education rapid
changes of curricula are a phenomenon hard to ignore. This
work does not offer a blue-print for yet another change. But
it can serve as a needed corrective. It aims at pulling the
grounds out from under any sort of theological imperialism
whereby one of the eight functional specializations would
reduce the others to ancillary status at best. For a while in
the '60's Lonergan feared that a narrow attitude of biblicism
would try to measure the full dimensions of theology. Today
that is no serious danger but the rush to what is called pastoral
theology often threatens a constitutional crisis within faculties.
The eight specializations are necessary and none should seek
to lord it over the others. But a laissez-faire approach is no
less a danger at present. Theological programs are sometimes
built around a principle that " total coverage " of material is
impossible and pluralism in teaching methods, goals, and
philosophies is to be maintained as the sine qua non for survival. Lonergan's present work is a corrective against this as
well and a warning that, when faculty members do their own
thing without much concern for the nature of the discipline, the
latter will suffer. One may ask whether the same will not be
true of students as well.
As far as the practitioners of theology are concerned the
book should likewise be of service. There is always the danger
of seeing only the trees and not the forest. Theologians are not
exempt from myopia in their view of what their discipline is
all about. Professor Burrell described as one of the most
salutary aspects of Lonergan's thought the fact that it can be
so liberating. This would be a fair assessment of the present
work as well. A discipline that is in danger of losing its
identity altogether and being crushed under the weight of
unassimilated data in printed form needs to ask itself what it
aims at both as a cognitional enterprise and as one mediating
between religion and culture. What loses its sense of unity
tends to disintegrate. The perception of a possible unity in

A WORD ON BEHALF OF " METHOD IN THEOLOGY "

609

theological enterprise may be the single greatest contribution
Lonergan has made to theologians with this work.
In the broader context of Anglo-Saxon culture his book
likewise deserves serious consideration. Avery Dulles, in a
perceptive review, has described it as outstanding and has
referred to its originality and internal consistency. 8 That consistency in particular and the originality as well result from
its relation to a philosophy of human knowing. To some that
philosophy becomes more plausible or increasingly convincing
as time passes and other efforts in the same direction are found
wanting. This reviewer finds it that way. To many, however,
that philosophy is defective. But no one convinced of the
importance of reason should fail to pay tribute to this work's
author for one thing. He has made a decided effort to reverse
the flight of theology from rationality. He insists he is writing
about method and not theology. 9 But theologians should see
what is implied in his analysis. Theology is a cognitional
enterprise and has hope of surviving and flourishing only if it
seeks to live by its nature, which involves the structure basic
to human knowing and choosing.
Finally, Lonergan has something to say to those who are
concerned about the relation of method and content in cognitional endeavors. At least as far as theology is concerned, he
thinks the two are not only distinct but in need of distinction.
His basis is what he considers the verifiable non-identity of
conscious human activity and what is experienced, understood,
judged, and reacted to therein. This effort is probably the
most comprehensive and consistent case made yet for such
a position. Those who take the opposite point of view will
8 Avery Dulles, Review of Method in Theology, in Theological Studies 33 (1972),
553-5. This review, while critical, regards the work in question more favorably
than apparently did many of those who participated in the international seminar
concerned with it at Saint Patrick's College, Maynooth earlier in 1972. Cf.
Michael Ledwith, "Method in Theology: Report of a Seminar," in 1'he Irish
Theological Quarterly 39 (1972), 288-98.
9 Cf. Philip
McShane, "An Interview with Fr. Bernard Lonergan, S. J.," in
The Clergy Review 56 (1971) p. 413. Also helpful is R. M. Liddy's "Lonergan's
Method," in America, Augnst 5, 1972, pp. 68-71.

610

CARL J. PETER

have reason to stop and reflect on what he has tried to do. 10
He says that he is a Roman Catholic with quite conservative
views on religious and church doctrines. But he goes on to say
that this notwithstanding he has written a chapter on the
functional specialization of doctrines without subscribing to
any but the doctrine about doctrine set forth in the first
Vatican Council. (p. 332) Does this mean he thinks the
analysis of theological method as related to the basic pattern
of cognitional activities confirms what Vatican I said of the
relation of faith and reason? It surely seems to. Schubert
Ogden has asked whether Lonergan's metaphysics follows from
his cognitional theory or vice versa. 11 With Lonergan I
subscribe to the doctrine about doctrine in Vatican I and regard
it as perhaps the single best statement by any Christian
Church on the interplay of faith and reason. Still I think we
can ask whether his subscription to that doctrine about
doctrine may not have influenced his discovery of cognitional
theory and if so to what extent. By applying himself to such
a question he could add yet more to the contribution he has
already made to the discussion not only of theological method
but of faith as related to critical thought.
CARL

J. PETER

Catholic University of America
Washington, D. C.

10 At least
when it comes to Faith itself, Gabriel Moran takes a contrary
position; cf. The Present Revelation (New York: Herder and Herder, l97!t).
11 Schubert M. Ogden, "Lonergan and the Subjectivist Principle,"
in Language,
Truth and Meaning (Notre Dame, Notre Dame Press, 197!t; edited by Philip
McShane) pp. !tlS-85.

BOOK REVIEWS
The Problem of Evolution: A Study of the Philosophical Repercussions
of Evolutionary Science. By J. N. DEELY and R. J. NoGAR. New
York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1973. Pp. 486. $Hl.95
Over-all this is a good book, but it does not seem to have much of a
place in modern North American intellectual life. By this I mean that it
is either too long and diffuse or not long and diffuse enough. For those
already convinced of the book's main thesis the work gives the impression
of beating a dead horse. For those not so convinced the introductory
essay and the various readings, all more or less in the same vein !n that
they assume the truth of the thesis, are hardly sufficient to win the day.
The book is divided into three main parts:
An historical-doctrinal
introduction by Deely of about 80 pages, six groups of readings totaling
about
pages, and about 30 pages of bibliography. There is also a 7
page Retrospect recalling the unfortunate and untimely death of Fr. Nogar,
0. P. The six groups of readings center around six themes, namely, the
animal background to man, the cultural foreground to man, the moral
consequences of accepting the evolutionary vision, some " metaphysical "
issues, some aspects of evolution and Christian thought, and the
evolutionary world-view. The readings are taken from fifteen different
people, four of whom appear twice: Dobzhansky
White
Deely
Steward, Bidney, Adler, Ayala, Dewey, Ashley, Waddington, Dubarle,
J. Huxley, and Eiseley. The 10 page general conChardin, Nogar
clusion, which begins on page 393, emphasizes the differences between the
static, picture, eternity-minded outlook and the dynamic, drama, changeminded outlook. The latter accepts the " bitter truth " that the natural
world is a mess in which man, left with nothing but his freedom, must
thrash around while working and hoping for the best.
The work was in the main complete in late 1968 and, although the
bibliography is somewhat updated to
the main text still remains
early in date. From time to time this shows up in the text as, for
where Adler's The Difference of Man and The
example, on page
Difference It Makes is called his most recent book. The reader, however,
is assured (p. 441) that during the several year delay in publication
nothing of any great importance has transpired that would make several
of the contributors change what they had to say.
As for as the content of the work is concerned, one main theme and
several sub-themes stand out. The main point of the book seems to be
to continue the work of Chardin and complete the task of convincing the

611

BOOK REVIEWS

world, and especially old-fashioned philosophers and conservative churchmen, of the promiscuous and ever-changing, ever-ongoing, process-nature
of the world. A world of constant, endless, and radical change is the
central fact of evolution regardless of exactly how particular events are
explained. This is the postulatory, "as if," mythos, "vision" of evolution
(see pp. 27-29, 77). It represents a "mentality" which soars up,
beyond, and around the lack or presence of facts of the moment. In
agreement with Nogar and Crespy, Deely asks us to keep our eye on the
donut (the continuity) and not on the hole (the gaps) and thus experience
the evolutionary world-view at first hand. (p. 22) All the readings were
chosen to reinforce and develop this outlook on life. Concerning the book
as a whole, " The point most worthy of note is that the time for theologians and philosophers to question whether evolution is a fact now
demonstrated has gone. " (p. 403)
The problem of reconciling being and becoming, eternity and time,
stability and change, in the same world is certainly a real and serious one.
But is the removal of a part of a problem a serious solution? Under
pressure to get-with-it and get-modern, this seems the tendency of the
present volume. As modern men " it is high time that we begin to take
seriously what scientific experience has long since testified, but what has
only just begun to be acknowledged in philosophy, and as yet not at all
in theology, namely, that the evolution of life, and the emergence of man,
is a natural process in which chance, failure, waste, disorder and death
may ultimately prevail. " (p. 396) By playing down order and rationality
in favor of process, disorder, and chance the scales are tipped toward
becoming to the point of almost falling over. In Sartrean fashion, in
the face of such overwhelming irrationalism there is little man can do but
shoulder the burden of redirecting the world by exercising his one truly
distinctive feature: freedom. It is only the vision of evolution which can
prevent an attempted escape from a feeling of responsibility for the future
of the human race. (see pp. 401, 442-443)
As one might suspect, "traditionalists" like Aquinas are not very weil
treated. In his article on "Change and Process" Fr. Ashley depicts
Aquinas as a static-minded, picture person (p. 280), while Fr. Nogar, in
his article, "Aquinas, Sartre, and the Lemmings," sees Aquinas's sub
ratione aeternitatis approach sharply contrasted with Sartre's "existentialism." (p. 370) Aquinas, who was at heart a Greek in philosophy, did
his best but " too quickly ... abandoned the imperfections and the grandeur
of a universe of space-time, the very being of which is unfolding
contingency." (p. 371) If Thomistic eternal essences could be gotten
out of the manuals, everyone would be better off even today. (p. 371,
note 1) This historically erroneous, straw man, picture of Aquinas could
have been corrected if more attention had been paid to metaphysics.
However, given the author-editor's view of the subject, seen variously as

BOOK REVIEWS

618

epistemology, (p. viii) the philosophy of nature, (pp.
and then
as epistemology again, (p.
the possibility of a clear statement about
the proper subject-matter of the philosophy of being seems to have been
precluded in advance.
Prof. Deely and Fr. Nogar would be the last to claim that God and
evolution are incompatible. Yet they seem to neglect the fact that the
great divide today is not between evolutionists and anti-evolutionists but
between those who claim evolution is totally undirected chance process and
those who say that God is somehow at the source of all the changes that
have and are taking place. The front line of the battle has been moved
for some time now. If the main point of the book is to drive home the
fact of gradual change in the world from lower to higher forms with perhaps
some largescale changes, the work is an anticlimax; that argument was won
on a wide scale back in the 1950's, and the time for works which keep
redoing the subject has gone. If the intent is to open the door to a more
extreme form of process philosophy, which seems to be the case at times,
the task was hardly begun. If, however, the 1973 problems of specific
theories of evolution are to be tackled, then the work has missed its
The work includes statements about the still current issues
opportunity.
of the literal truth of common descent by some specific means, the
quantity-quality leap, the problem of universals, etc., but these are not
given the systematic, integrated, all-sides, dialectical treatment they
deserve. What the work does do is to pull together some good readings,
extensively annotated, on some of the biological, cultural, philosophical,
and religious aspects of the non-problem of evolution.
The book itself is a well made and printed hardback.

F. F. CENTORE
St. Jerome's College
University of Waterloo
Waterloo, Ontario
Canada

Theology Today Series. 6 The Theology of Evolution. By ERVIN
NEMESSZEGHY, S. J. and JoHN RussELL, S. J. Pp. 96;
The
Theology of Confirmation. By AusTIN P. MILNER, 0. P. Pp.
37. The Theology of Mission. By AYLWARD SHORTER, W. F. Pp.
It is possible to have a theology of evolution because reason and faith,
though different orders of truth, are related to each other. As the authors
of The Theology of Evolution put it: " The fact that several scientific

614

BOOK REVIEWS

theories of cosmogony and biology are compatible with the biblical notion
of creation does not warrant the conclusion that none is incompatible with
it. " (p. 38) The task of a theology of evolution, then, will be to
determine under what form the theory of evolution will be compatible
with faith. It has been accomplished admirably here, with special reference
to the doctrines of Original Sin and the special creation of the soul.
Polygenism is seen to be a necessary ingredient of evolution and at the
same time theologically acceptable. From Genesis to Humani Generis the
relevant texts are analyzed with the help of a number of simple principles,
e. g.,: " Council texts should always be interpreted strictly ... ," (p. 59)
and: non-infallible documents such as Humani Generis decide" not whether
a teaching is ture or false, once and for all, but whether it is safe from the
pastoral point of view at a certain point of history." (p. 62) The book
ends with an account, sympathetic but by no means uncritical, of the essentials of Teilhard de Chardin. Teilhard's vision, as set out in The
Phenomenon of Man, is to be regarded neither as science nor theology but
as a successful myth for the twentieth-century man.
The Theoloogy of Confirmation is valuable because of the author's broad
knowledge of the history of the rite of this sacrament. As far as Confirmation is concerned, that is the chief interest of the theologian. Especially
interesting is the long quotation from a sermon of Abbott Faustus of Lerins,
also Bishop of Riez, preached at Pentecost between 451 and 470. For him
it is the sacrament of the spiritual life of the adult Christian. In addition
to the historical survey Father Milner discusses the evidence of the Sacred
Scripture, St. Paul, St. Luke, and St. John, humbly acknowledging his
indebtedness to the article PNEUMA by E. Schweistzer in Theological
Dictionary of the New Testament.
The book contains much genuine
scholarship and reverence for history and Tradition. But the author's
hesitancy about Infant Baptism is strange in a Dominican. He seems to
think that one must be mentally mature to receive the gift of Faith. That
is very like semi-Pelagianism. And is it accurate to say that "at the
present time the defection from the Church of young people who have been
baptized as infants and are supposed to have received a Christian education
is very general?" As Newman said so well, even Oxford has its own
own provincialism.
The Theology of Mission contains twelve chapters concerning Development, the era of Foreign Missions, Old Testament background, the Risen
Christ as the foundation of Mission, the relation of the Church's mission
to human personality and to human cultures, the salvific role of the world
religions, neo-colonialism in the Church and human communication in a
secular age. The chapter on the era of foreign missions begins was an
admission that is hardly allowable in a scientific study. The author says
that he is giving a picture which is a "trifle exaggerated."
Trifle is
an understatement.
Bishop Shanahan is mentioned only to belittle his

BOOK REVIEWS

615

simple faith in seeing the Devil's opposition to Christian progress. Did not
Our Lord meet with a similar interference? They were saints, giants, loved
and admired, the author magnanimously concedes, but the implication is
that they were theological fools. The author pleads rightly for justice as
far as developing countries are concerned. Do we not owe these missionaries
a just assessment of their work? " The easiest way to start a mission was
to collect orphans or ransom slave-children and then start a mission school."
But will the author quote this as the constitutional policy of any missionary
congregation? If the missionaries refused to save the lives of these
children, would they be truly Christian? Not knowing that any and every
religion has a salvific role, they were in a hurry to save souls and, like St.
Luke, they counted the Baptisms. Rigid in their Western ways, they made
no allowance for the vagaries of marriage systems in Africa. But Jesus
was also rigid in his attitude to prevailing custom in Judea. There are
many good things in the rest of this book. But as theology it is
unsatisfactory. For theology is a continuity of intellectual understanding
of the implications of our Faith. One gets the impression from the author
that before the Second Vatican Council there was only erroneous theology
of the mission, if any at all. Besides, a theology of mission should cover
more than the end of missionary activity. Emphasis is given to statements
made by Pope Paul in the presence of government officials in Africacourtesy exchanges at airports-but his explicit teaching on the priorities to
be observed in missionary activity is not quoted.
The missionary
mandate of Our Lord is soft-pedalled. I wonder why? A Theology of
Mission should consider also the means. From that point of view I consider
Father le Joly's book, Proclaiming Christ, far more practical in its approach.
Loms M. HuGHES, O.P.
JERoME ToNER, 0. P.
St. Charles' Seminary,
Nagpur, India

Approaches To Natural Law: From Plato To Kant. By FRANCIS H.
ETEROVICH. New York: Exposition Press, 1972. Pp. 194. $6.50.
The brevity of this book offers the advantage of broad treatment
enabling the student to discern the larger contours and general continuity
of the history of natural law theory. It follows the usual divisions of that
history into classical, Christian, and post-scholastic, or modern, periods.
Under the last of these are treated the empirical, rationalist, and idealist
versions of natural law. The ambivalence of the term "natural law " is
amply conveyed as successive philosophers are considered, as is also the
bearing of their metaphysical and epistemological positions on their
respective moral and juridical doctrines.

616

BOOK REVIEWS

The advantage, however, is largely offset by a treatment which is in places
oversimplified and inaccurate. The less than three pages devoted to the
Roman law jurists are bound to confuse and mislead a reader not already
familiar with Justinian's Institutes and the complications of its section on
ius naturale. Justinian is twice mentioned as being himself a jurist-indeed
"the greatest of all Roman jurists." (p. 43) The jurists themselves are
first lumped together as understanding natural right to presuppose society
(which would not be the case with Ulpian) and on the following page
(44) are again collectively presented as sharing Ulpian's view of the
difference between ius naturale and ius gentium. A bit further along we
are told that the compilers of the Institutes " preferred not to distinguish
ius gentium from ius naturale," while in fact it was the Institutes that
canonized Ulpian's restrictive and awkward definition of ius naturale which,
in its context, stands sharply opposed to ius gentium. Most of the
confusion is owing, of course, to the compilers themselves. For after
accepting Ulpian's understanding of natural as comprising only those
activities common to man and animals, they went on immediately to
incorporate Gaius's definition of ius gentium as stemming from "natural
reason " (naturalis ratio) .
Exception must also be taken to the handling of Suarez. Dr. Eterovich
writes:
Suarez takes a middle course in answering the question: " Is natural law only a
preceptive or a demonstrative law?" In other words, does it command, or does
it just state what is to be done?

It should be noted in the first place that the question included in
quotations does not appear in the Latin text of De legibus and, secondly,
that to make the two formulations equivalent-and bring them closer to
an expression of Suarez's problem-the adverb only should qualify
demonstrative rather than preceptive. Then it will be seen from the
author's own exposition that Suarez is not taking a middle course but opting
for one of the alternatives, viz., that natural law is preceptive. The words
of the Latin text," mediam viam tenendan censeo," (if these are what the
author has in mind in reference to a middle course) refer not to the
alternatives themselves but to the extremely opposed grounds on which
some were arguing for them. In other words, the via media lay between
rationalism and voluntarism.
Again, it is a mistake to attribute to Suarez the teaching that " natural
law does not reveal God issuing commands, but simply indicates what is
in itself good or evil." (p. 72) These words are cited from the passage
(II, vi, 2) in which Suarez is expounding the reasoning against which he
is himself to argue. While rejecting the voluntarist position (" legem
naturalem omnino positam in divino imperio"), he concludes nevertheless
that natural law is properly law (preceptive) and properly divine.

BOOK REVIEWS

617

" Concludo et dico tertia, legem naturalem esse veram, ac propriam legem
divinam cujus legislator est Deus" (II, vi, 13).
In his preface Dr. Eterovich, who is Croatian-bom, acknowledges the
services of those who carefully checked and improved the book's language
and style. In spite of this the work is replete with misprints, misspellings,
lapses in grammar, and a legion of printer's devils. Man enters the world
and with a tendency
without accounterments, naked and unshed (p.
to self-preserve. (p. 51) Grotius "advocates that one can treat of natural
law without reference to God" (p. 83) and a sovereign "can perform an
iniquity." (p. 106) Isidore-in his Ethymologies-is described as" making
ius gentium contained under positive law. " (p. 58) On p. 85 we have
" subjective definition of right " for definition of subjective right. Aquinas
talks "as a matter of fact" (p. 57) instead of in a matter-of fact manner.
Treaties of peace " must not only be observed ... but also heeded and not
refused" (p. 75) -for "admittenda et non neganda."
It is especially unfortunate that in a book aiming to secure a fair hearing
for natural law (p. 11) the handling of the scholastic doctors is burdened
and obfuscated by labored, awkward, and erroneous translation and by a
slavish transliteration of technical scholastic terms that cannot but rebuff
and bafHe a reader unacquainted with their sense or context. (For that
matter, even one so acquainted must mentally revise as he reads). Right
or just may be defined as " an equal work due to others. " (p. 58)
" General moral principles are the same for all in their moral rectitude and
they are known to all," (p. 54) but " even when the moral conclusion
is the same for everyone in its inner objective evidence it may not be
equally known to all." (ibid.) It happens that men "because of their
ignorance, passion or bad character, forgo some proximate moral concluions. "
(p. 55) "Divine values are immensely distant from frail human lives and
faulty human affairs," (p. 57) and "the nature of human affairs (feelings,
volitions, actions, results) is contingent and particular." (p. 89) A right
is " a moral quality of a person. " (p. 85) Aquinas demonstrates a point
" on the first principle of natural law " (p. 5!2) and finds a not unanswerable
objection "not to be an ultimate one. " (p. 53) And how is even the
expert in scholastic moral theory to expound the statement:
"The moral
commands of reason are thus the very form of good human acts as the
moral prohibitions of reason are for the bad ones? " (p.
JosEPH V. DoLAN, S. J.

Fordham University
New York, N.Y.

618

BOOK REVIEWS

The Edges of Language: An Essay in the Logic of Religion. By \'Aur,
M. VAN BuREN. New York: The Macmillan Company, 197!'!. Pp. 178.
$2.45.
When the" death-of-God" controversy was making headlines in the secular
and religious presses, Thomas Altizer, William Hamilton, and Paul Van
Buren were often listed as the principal advocates of the proclaimed
demise. Van Buren's The Secular Meaning of the Gospel was an effort to
show that the word God was meaningless and to reconstruct Christian
discourse without it. His point of departure was twentieth-century analytic
philosophy and biblical criticism, and the distinction of the book, in contrast to the writings of Altizer and Hamilton, was its modesty, clarity,
and reasonableness. Since that time Van Buren has been engaged in an
intense reconsideration of the position taken in The Secular Meaning of the
Gospel. The essays collected in Theological Explorations represented
the development of his reconsideration over several years, and now
The Edges of Language: An Essay in the Logic of Religion gives coherent
form to his most recent reflections.
Van Buren takes his inspiration in The Edges of Language not from the
positivistic wing of linguistic analysis but from Ludwig Wittgenstein's
Philosophical Investigations and John Austin's How to do Things with
Words. Both Wittgenstein and Austin suggest to him that one errs in
seeing human language as chiefly a vehicle for making factual claims and in
taking words as uniquely means of naming. The error is significant for
Van Buren ecause he discerns it at the heart of many of the disputes about
religious beliefs, for instance, the dispute between theists and atheists about
the existence of a transcendent, benevolent being. Each party to this latter
dispute tends to understand God-talk as talk about "factual" realms
beyond the experience and discourse of men. The alternative proposed in
The Edges of Language is to focus more sharply on the " doing " involved
in religious language, especially as it arises among educated Christians of
the mid-twentieth century. Van Buren expects this shift in focus to reveal
the extent to which the Christian navigates along the edges of the
rule-bound activity of speech in his God-talk. In making his way along
this border he engages in an enterprise akin to that of the poet and the
punster: he stretches language right up to the limits of its intelligibility
and God marks the final edge of that intelligibility. In interpreting the
language of the Christian thus Van Buren puts aside his previous conviction
that God-talk is meaningless and useless. He likewise refrains from taking
its significance and value as straight-forwardly ethical or metaphysical
in the sense of R. B. Braithwaite's " An Empiricist Analysis of Religious
Language " or of John Wisdom's " Gods. " Rather it has both significance
and value for him as do all attempts to extend language and experience

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through paradox. One may prefer to remain on the home-field of speech
where ambiguity is excluded, but he need not stay there. What is more,
the move away from the center can enrich and illuminate the existence of
human beings. The peculiar ethical and metaphysical side of Christian
discourse will have its genuine sense when one grasps the relationship of
such discourse to the other fashions of taking a stand on the edges of
language. Van Buren believes that a reconsideration of God-talk along
these lines is in continuity with the best of traditional theology and of
great importance for the contemporary man who would speak as a Christian
despite his uneasiness with the " factual " interpretation of his utterances.
The Edges of Language has one great similarity with The Secular Meaning
of the Gospel: it manifests the author's capacity to write clearly and simply
and his concern to state his case fairly and honestly. It makes a
major advance over the earlier work in its richer perspective on language
One cannot but be
in general and on religious language in particular.
grateful for the endeavor to study the latter in the light of the moves
of the poet and the punster. Yet Van Buren is surely right in finishing
the book with an admission that he has made only a beginning in drawing
out the implications of these moves for the philosophy of religion. One
needs still to appreciate more fully the type of language at stake here.
Thus ordinary punning and poetry as well as the religious use of such
speech styles must receive closer attention if the task is to reach completion.
Something in the order of Donald Evans's detailed application of Austin's
methods to biblical texts in The Logic of Self-Involvement must eventually
grow out of the suggestions in The Edges of Language. One benefit of
such a delineation should be to make some of the lines drawn between the
" factual " and paradoxical uses of religious language by Van Buren
untenable. It would become evident, for example, that this analysis
embraces and does not undercut the theism-atheism clash. The main
fruit of a more detailed study would, however, be that an excellent essay
on the logic of religion would gain the body it requires in order to be
properly effective. But Van Buren has made the start, and the
dissatisfaction which has led from The Secular Meaning of the Gospel to
The Edges of Language has been a boon for everyone interested in either
the philosophical or theological consideration of religious discourse.
MICHAEL

La Salle College
Philadelphia, Pa.

J. KERLIN

BOOK REVIEWS

Nicolai de Cusa Opera Omnia III: De Coniecturis. Ed. By JosEF Kocn
and KARL BoRMANN. Hamburg: Felix Meiner Verlag,
Pp.

DM
The periodization of history may be a requirement inherent in the
historical enterprise itself, but it involves some unavoidable distortion.
Thinkers like Nicholas of Cusa (1401-1464) find themselves relegated to
the expiring gasps of the Middle Ages or to the secondary status of mere
precursors of a dawning era. Periodization requires its terminal personages,
and these are inevitably assigned a marginal importance.
But what the historical enterprise has created it can also destroy, and
slowly but surely our persective into the no-man's-land of the late 14th-early
15th centuries is developing both in depth and breadth. One example of
this development has been the increasing scholarly interest in Ockhamism
and the nominalist influence. Another promising sign that our understanding of fifteenth-century culture is being steadily enriched is the
remarkable growth of interest in the life and thought of Cusanus. In
the Heidelberg Academy of Sciences embarked on the production of its
critical Nicolai de Cusa Opera Omnia. That work might well have been
completed by now had it not been interrupted (indeed partially obliterated)
by World War II. In the last few years several important additions
to this critical Opera have been published, thus bringing the entire project
to a point from which completion no longer seems that dim distant dream
it did a few short years ago.
Along with the progress of the critical edition international interest in
Cusanus grows apace. Apart from the incomplete Heidelberg Opera Omnia
but in conjunction with it the Felix Meiner Verlag has been publishing a
series, Schriften des Nikolaus von Kues in deutscher tJbersetzung. These
texts initially did not contain the Latin version but more recent additions
to the series are bilingual. The paperback volumes are of convenient size,
are fully annotated, and contain substantial introductions by renowed
Cusanus scholars. They are ideally suited for seminar work, perhaps even
upper division undergraduate study. Furthermore, they make the works
of Cusanus accessible to the specialist who is unable to afford the price of
the increasingly expensive additions to the critical Opera Omnia. Italian,
Portuguese, and even Japanese editions of select philosophical and religious
works of Cusanus were published recently and, as unlikely as it may
seem, a Japanese Cusanus association has been established! Regretably,
English-language works and translations are not nearly as well represented
in the Cusanus bibliographies as one might reasonably expect. With the
availability of a critical text of Nicholas's works, British and American
students of philosophy and religion should be encouraged to turn their
attention to their 15th-century forebear. Cusanus studies could profit
immeasurably, for example, from language-critical analysis.

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621

With the exception of the De concordantia catholica, a reform document
which Nicholas presented to the Council of Basel in 1433 or 1434, the
De coniecturis is his longest and most ambitious work. It was written
some few years after his famous De docta ignorantia (completed Feburary
12, 1440) and was referred to by name in that earlier, programmatic
work. De docta ignorantia had not only raised again the crucial question
of man's knowledge of God but had reemphasized the utter disproportion of
the finite to the infinite. Compensating that anxiety-raising doctrine is
Cusanus's well-known language describing God's relation to the world as a
complicatio omnium, language which clearly gives rise to another kind
of disquietude. For the consolations offered by pantheism and mystical
vision collide at many points with Christian tradition and ecclesiastical
authority. Fortunately for Cusanus, his political sagacity and indefatigable
energy had won him the red hat and thereby immunized him from the
attacks of theologians like Johnannes Wenck.
As Josef Koch pointed out some years ago, although Cusanus had
envisaged the De coniecturis as an elucidation of several issues presented
in De docta ignorantia, by the time he got around to completing De
coniecturis his ideas had evolved in the direction of Proclan Neoplatonism,
It
a metamorphosis from a Seinsmetaphysik to an Einheitsmetaphysik.
seems that Nicholas had been introduced to the writings of Proclus during
his mission to Constantinople just prior to the Council of Florence but
had not yet really assimilated Proclan ideas until after De docta ignorantia
was written.
In one sense, Cusanus's coniectura, which he defines as" positiva assertio,
in alteritate veritatem, uti est, participans," (p. 58) is a corollary of
" learned ignorance. " Because knowledge proceeds by comparing the
unknown to the already known it is essentially a matter of establishing
proportions. But since proportion between the finite and the infinite is
out of the question, the human mind can never know God, indeed can never
This realization is "learned
know the full truth about anything.
ignorance." But we can nonetheless arrive at approximations to truth.
These approximations are coniecturae. Although Nicholas engages in
coniectura in De docta ignorantia as he employs mathematical symbols to
illustrate the coincidentia oppositorum, it is only in De coniecturis that he
attempts systematically to establish his ars coniecturalis. Based on the
"four unities "-God, intellect, reason, sense-Cusanus's noetic sees these
four existing in mathematical relationship to each other, a relationship
generated by the natural progression 1, 2, 3, 4. The sum of this progression
equals 10, the basis of a further progression equalling 100, in
turn giving rise to a similar progression equalling 1000.
The
elements of the series I, 10, 100, 1000 are to each other as God,
intellect, reason, sense. All of this presupposes, of course, that mind's
creativity is a true image of divine creativity and that human processes

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in bringing forth coniectura are participations of the infinite divine ratio
which produced the real world. (p. 7)
As might be expected, the elaborately contrived formulae of the De
coniecturis do not really do for knowledge what Cusanus's contemporary,
Leon Battista Alberti, did for painting. By applying Alberti's rules of
perspective, artists were able to create a truly unified spatial representation.
But there can be little doubt that Cusanus's ars coniecturalis is a response
to the same cultural impetus toward scientific mastery and precision.
Nicholas, however, was not dealing with the merely secular, and his mathematical conception of intellectual life was difficult to reconcile with faith.
Not only is the latter subject not treated in this work; the word fides is not
so much as mentioned! This despite the fact that Cusanus does deal with
theologia and religio. It is difficult to attribute such an omission to mere
oversight. Dissatisfaction with the state of theology was widespread among
those intellectuals who saw themselves identified with humanistic values.
Cusanus considered his works De doctra ignorantia and De coniecturis to be
innovative and untraditional. They can be regarded as his initial contribution to a reform program conceived along intellectualist lines, as contrasted
with his earlier canonical conception.
De coniecturis is usually considered a work of purely philosophical
interest. Nietzsche's observations about the biographical basis of philosophy find some confirmation in the case of Cusanus and his coniectura
doctrine. Scholars have been unable to give a truly satisfying explanation
of Cusanus's abandonment of the conciliar movement in favor of the papal
party. Not only had he supported conciliarism at the Council of Basel; his
De concordantia catholica was the last great canonical defense of that
position. During his own lifetime his change of allegiance was attributed
to base political motives. To Aeneas Sylvius it smacked of schism not only
because the future Pius II was then himself an ardent supporter of conciliar
authority but also because Cusanus had based his own conciliar theory on
theological grounds, on faith itself. His subsequent elaboration of docta
ingnorantia and coniectura should be seen in the context of his need to
defend his move and supply it with theological justification. In a letter
to Rodrigo Sanchez de Arevalo he referred to the Church as ecclesia
coniecturalis, a conception which allowed him to defend a hitherto
unpalatable papal authority by reducing it and its claims to the realm of
the less-than-certain.
This important fifteenth-century text should be given serious attention
by scholars from a variety of disciplines. The apparatus fontium and the
48 appended adnotationes are remarkable testimony to the unsurpassed
scholarship of Josef Koch whose death interrupted his work on this text.
As this volume shows, Koch's work has been brought to a worthy conclusion
by Karl Bormann. This latest addition to the Heidelberg Opera not
only meets but often surpasses the high standards we have come to expect

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from the series. The only serious improvement we might suggest would
be an index rerum et verborum. This deficiency should be at least partially
remedied by the projected final volume of indices.
JAMES

E. BIECHLER

La Salle College
Philadelphia, Pa.

Repertorio de historia de las ciencias eclesiasticas en Espana. Vol. 4.
Salamanca: Instituto de historia de la teologia espanola, Universidad
Pontificia de Salamanca, 1972. Pp. 361.
This volume is a welcome addition to the growing literature on the
intellectual history of the Middle Ages and Renaissance on the Iberian
Peninsula. It contains the following articles: {1) Vicente Munoz Delgado,
"La logica hispano-portugesa hasta 1600 (notas bibliognifico-doctrinales) "
(pp. 9-122);
(2) Salvador Gomez Nogales, "Filosofia musulmana
espanola" (pp. 123-148);
(3) Jose Luis Rojo Seijas, "Valoracion
amorruibalista de Abengabirol" (pp. 149-184); (4) Jose Maria da Cruz
Pontes, " Contribuciones recientes a la historia de la filosofia portuguesa
de los siglos XIII-XV" (pp. 185-202); (5) Jose Riesco Terrero, "La
metasfisica en Espana (siglos XII al XV) " (pp. 203-259); and {6)
Mariana Ameilia Machado Santos, " Ensaio de sintese panoramica da
filosofia dos portugueses no seculo XVI" (pp. 261-343). Particularly
valuable are the contributions of Munoz Delgado, Riesco Terrero, and
Machado Santos, which are rich bio-bibliographical compilations serving
to bring to more general attention many rare and obscure publications
dealing with Spanish and Portuguese philosophy.
The piece of Fr. Munoz Delgado is perhaps the most valuable contribution of all. It presents an excellent survey of the development of logic
in Spain and Portugal from Seneca down to the end of the sixteenth
century. It helps to show just how extensive and varied has been the
intellectual life of the Iberian Peninsula. In addition to Seneca, we find
treatments of Isidore of Seville, Averroes, Maimonides, Raimon Lull, Peter
of Spain, Vincent Ferrer, Juan de Celaya, Antonio Coronel, Pedro da
Fonseca, the Coimbra Commentaries, and many others. Of especial value
is the section dealing with logic in the sixteenth century, to the understanding of which Fr. Munoz Delgado has himself contributed in so important a
way. Like all of his publications it is based on a firm grasp of the
relevant primary and secondary literature.
On the whole the volume provides a biographical foundation for further
detailed studies in the field. It indicates what an immense amount of
material still remains from the flowering of scholastic philosophy in

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sixteenth-century Spain and Portugal. It also indicates how little of this
material is ever discussed in general histories of philosophy and how little
it is known outside of Spain and Portugal. Though much of the sixteenth-century philosophical activity was indeed of purely local interest,
the impact of Sanches on French sceptical thought, of Fonseca on
the development of logic, of Suarez on German scholasticism (both Catholic
and Protestant), and of the Cursus Conimbricensis on Decartes have new
been clearly documented. It remains yet to study all of this more carefully
before we can see precisely how seventeenth-century philosophy, theology,
and science are to be linked with the late Middle Ages. The sixteenthcentury developments in these fields are still not clearly understood, but,
with research tools such as the present volume available, it is now
becoming easier to study the extant materials with the view of eventually
making sense of this very complex cultural situation.
The Repertorio is well printed, though there are many misprints,
especially in bibliographical entries in foreign languages. It has an index
of manuscripts cited (which is quite extensive), as well as an index of
authors, and is a scholarly tool which should be in every research library.
CHARLEs

B. ScHMITT

The Warburg Institute
University of London, England

Christian Political Theology: A Marxian Guide. By JosEPH PETULLA.
Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1972. Pp. 266. $3.95
The contention of the author is that Christianity and Marxism share
ab asic " commitment perspective " on the questions of man's alienation and
liberation which justifies the theologian's use of Marxian analysis of history.
He tries to recover some historical evidence that shows that Christianity
" has reason to look at the world in a manner compatible with a Marxian
world view. " The primary purpose of the book is said to be " the
presentation of a Marxian conceptual device as a contribution to an
understanding of economic, political and social processes from within a
Christian theological perspective." (p. 3) Mr. Petulla feels that this is
necessary because " the man of our current moral treatises is the individual
loaded with obligations toward God and neighbor; he is not the man
engaged in the construction of the world and called to take a position in
the cause of justice, of peace, of progress and organization. "
Whatever use this effort may have, it depreciates, on the one hand,
the roots of Marxist concepts and their own unique revolutionary
meaning, and on the other, the political revolutionary quality of
Christian theology itself.
Rather than suggest that the Old and

BOOK REVIEWS

625

New Testaments are radically Marxist, it would be more nearly
accurate to say, with Barbara Ward, that Marx was the last of the
great Jewish prophets. Mr. Petulla seems to feel that religious values of
themselves are inadequate to furnish significant interpretation of man's
role in " the construction of the world. " The great early theologians are
accused of failing " to include provisions for social change in the temporal
order." (p. 10) One wonders what Mr. Petulla would make of the text
of St. Thomas which reads: " The world was made to be man's dwelling.
Therefore it should benefit man ... Man has some likeness to the universe,
wherefore he is called a little world. Hence man loves the whole world
naturally, and consequently desires its good. Therefore, that man's desire
be satisfied the universe must needs ... be made better." The renewal of
the world after the Last Judgement is made to serve as an inspiration to
man to change the world now: St. Thomas insists that politics is concerned
not only with " government " of the status quo but with creating a
(Chapter XIII,
perfect society by continually renewing its structures.
On the Rule of Princes) St. Augustine, to whom Mr. Petulla imputes the
view that " the history of the earthly city will never improve, " called upon
men to care for and to distribute earthly goods in imitation of " that most
just Disposer of all the adjuncts of temporal peace-the visible light, the
breathable air, the potable water, and all the other necessaries of meat,
drink, and clothing. "
" Alienation, " " liberation, " and " praxis " have very special meanings
in Marx. They cannot be transferred in a simplistic fashion to Christian
political theology.

CHARLES N. R. McCoY
University of Santa Clara
Santa Clara, California

A Theology of Liberation: History, Politics, and Salvation. By GusTAVO
GuTIERREz. Translated and edited by Sister Caridad lnda and John
Eagleson. Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis Books, 1973. Pp. 308. Hardbound $7.95; paperback $4.95.
Two combinations make this book noteworthy: it combines the intellectual insights of the professor of theology at the Catholic University of Peru
with his practical knowledge of the harsh realities of poverty and
oppression. It also relates important and pertinent ecclesiastical documents
(e. g., those from Vatican II and the Second General Conference of Latin
American Bishops held at Medellin, Colombia, in 1968) to the author's own
carefully constructed theology of liberation.

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BOOK REVIEWS

Gutierrez identifies three interpenetrating meanings of liberation:
the
political liberation sought by exploited peoples and classes; the freeing of
man in history to accept conscious responsibility for his own destiny; and
liberation from sin to communion with God and realization of human
brotherhood. Appropriately, he explores these meanings with special reference to Latin America," the only predominantly Christian continent among
those inhabited by oppressed people. " Whereas Westerners tend to conceive concern for society in terms of development and progress, Third
World peoples see it as the demand for justice and liberation.
For the author, theology of liberation is in the nature of theology itself.
Theology is critical reflection on historical praxis in the light of the Word
accepted in faith. It therefore inevitably concerns the existence of Christians in the world. Theology of liberation examines the classic question of
the relation between faith and social reality in a new context which demands
the abolition of exploitation and the achievement of freedom. Gutierrez
considers representative doctrines from this perspective.
Sin, for example, is a social, historical fact, involving simultaneously
broken relationships with both men and God as well as an interior,
personal fracture. We encounter the Lord in encountering other human
beings, and likewise separate ourselves from God as we erect barriers
against our fellows. Hence sin has collective dimensions, appearing in
oppressive and exploitative social structures as in concrete instances of
alienation.
Salvation also entails the liberation of persons in society. Defined as
the communion of men with God and among themselves, it is an intrahistorical reality that embraces and transforms all human life and leads to its
fullness in Christ the Liberator. The doctrines of creation, eschatology,
incarnation, and kingdom all concern a God whose salvific action underlies
all human existence and includes the struggle for a just society.
Inevitably this involves a new conception of the mission of the church
in the world. The church is" a sacrament of history," a sign of God's call
to all men to become a community of justice and love in communion with
him. As Medellin made plain, the God of the Bible is a liberating God,
and the Gospel contains a revolutionary thrust.
With such a theology, the church must be unqualifiedly committed to
the abolition of injustice and the building of a new social order. Obviously
a church which casts its lot with the poor and downtrodden confronts the
question of the universality of Christian love, and it risks disrupting its
own unity and forfeiting the support of the economically and politically
powerful. But the class struggle is a fact, and neutrality is impossible. The
church cannot help influencing society in one way or another, and in the
perspective of the kingdom its only option is participation in the struggle
for liberation. However, universal love seeks also the liberation of the
oppressors from their selfish love of power.

BOOK REVIEWS

The struggle must be rooted in "spirituality," a life-style dominated
and inspired by the Spirit of God and nourished by prayer and worship,
a way of living '' before the Lord " in solidarity with all men. The
touchstone of such spirituality is evangelical conversion to God and the
neighbor-the radical transformation that leads us to think, feel, and live
like Christ in relation to alienated people. A church so grounded will
evangelize the world in a new sense which includes conscienticizing and
politicizing-helping the exploited to become aware of their true personhood.
Affirming the importance of dialogue between Christians and Marxists,
the author calls on both to move beyond discussion to experiments in action.
One misses in this perceptive interpretation any critical examination
of the role of revolutionary violence from the standpoint of Christian ethics.
Gutierrez rightly insists that Christians recognize the constant presence of
" institutionalized violence, " and makes clear that those who condemn
violence by the oppressed for the sake of justice must condemn equally
the covert violence by which oppressors maintain injustice. But he
nowhere examines the ethical pros and cons of violent activity, and l1e
offers no guidelines for those who, committed to liberation, seek a sound
harmonization of means and ends. He has proclaimed convincingly the
gospel of liberation. We shall be still more in his debt if he can now go on
to examine how Christians and the church should proceed in the difficult
decisions required by liberating action.
S. PAUL ScHILLING
Wesley Theological Seminary
Washington, D. C.

The Church and Revolution; From the French Revolution of 1789 to the
Paris Riots of 1968; From Cuba to Southern Africa; From Vietnam
to Latin America. By FRAN<;:ms HouTART and ANDRE RoussEAU.
Tr. by VIOLET NEVILE. Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1971.
Pp.
$3.95.
The subtitle of this work describes the scope but not the emphasis of
the volume. Houtart and Rousseau spend more time analysing the church
in France and revolutionary movements there (fully one-third of the bouk)
than they expend on any church in a revolutionary situation. In addition,
contrary to the impression that the subtitle might convey, the major
orientation of the volume is not historical but sociological. Thus the
authors' opening chapter offers a sociological approach to revolution, while
the concluding chapter presents a "tentative sociological interpretation"
of the role of the church (primarily the Roman Catholic Church) in
revolution.
Technically, the book is flawed. There are numerous misprints, and in

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many instances the meaning of the text is unclear due to unhappy
translations that leave pronouns and demonstrative adjectives pointing
nowhere. The book has bibliographical footnotes but no index.
The first element of Houtart and Rousseau's argument is that a postMarxist sociology of revolution must be developed in light of the fact that
the historical situation has become enormously more complex since Marx
developed his analysis. In such a situation revolution is not simply a takeover of the power of production but a takeover of power to determine the
ends toward which production is geared. Revolution, therefore, challenges
the orientations, values, and legitimations of an entire socia-political structure. The purpose of revolution is profoundly humanistic and utopian: so
that society may " ' produce ' man and accomplish its own qualitative transformation. " (p. 15) The revolutionary challenge, in a post-Marxist world,
may be directed against any socio-political system that dehumanizes man,
whether it be socialist or capitalist.
A second element of the argument it that, since the gospel is a gospel
of liberation, the church should side with movements of liberation. But
socio-historical analysis of various revolutionary movembents indicates that
the church has consistently refused to identify with such movements, siding
instead with conservative and even reactionary social forces. Thus the
church has been regarded as an obstacle by revolutionaries and has, by
implication, been untrue to the gospel entrusted to it.
The church has resisted revolutionary movements for many reasons-some
of them having to do with self-preservation and some with differing
historical ideals. In modern times the church has decided that, as a
transcendent reality, it ought to remain above politics. And so it has
refused to identify with revolutionary movements. Houtart and Rousseau
argue forcefully that no institution can be apolitical. Even political apathy,
in current political science, is regarded as a tacit political position.
Similarly, the claim to be above politics means that one is pragmatically
content to let things be as they are; that is, it is a choice not to support
change and a tacit affirmation of the political status quo. Thus willy-nilly
the church has found itself aligned with socio-political regimes that
obstruct human liberation.
(The authors do note, however, that certain
Third World churchmen have begun to reassess and to realign the church's
commitments.)
The third major element in Houtart and Rousseau's argument is a
prescription for the church: it must become aware of its identification
with oppressive socio-political structures. Essential to such awareness is
hard-headed, competent scientific analysis of modern socio-political
structures;
such analysis will enable the church to verbalize concrete
criticism rather than well-meaning, abstract admonitions which offend and
instruct nobody and which potentially support everybody.
Criticism by the church of oppressive socio-political structures does not
necessarily entail support of violent revolution (although the authors do

BOOK REVIEWS

not foreclose this option) . But criticism, insofar as it recognizes a distance
between social reality and the gospel, does necessarily entail a commitment
to revolutionary social change.
The authors maintain that the church should exercise its critical function
everywhere and always. Thus criticism of a capitalist economy would
not mean that the church identifies with a socialist replacement. This
action would politicize the faith all over again, this time in a different
direction. The church, contend the authors, has no stake in any nystem:
it " exists not 'in-itself' but for the parousia. " (p. 344) Thus the
church is the revolution within revolutions that speaks to man the hope of
The
a future reality in which all men will be definitively liberated.
authors ' final argument is that the church cannot do for society what it
has not done for itself. Thus the church must reorganize itself and
eliminate oppression within its own structures, so that it becomes a credible
sign of the hope it speaks to society.
One can appreciate the authors ' urgency: as they note, " it is impossible
to live in today's world without being aware of the underlying thrust of
social and cultural change of which the revolutionary movements are a
sign. " (ix) The authors are confident that, if Christians will open their
eyes, with help of The Church and Revolution, they will support
revolutionary social change.
The authors' confidence hinges upon the conviction that Christianity is
a " proclamation of man's total liberation. " (ix) Certainly this could
not mean liberation, I would hasten to add, in a socio-political sense alone:
otherwise one could not be both oppressed and Christian.
Yet total
liberation must include socio-political structures:
otherwise one could be
both a Christian and an oppressor.
The latter intolerable position,
according to the authors, has in fact been that of the church. Ignoring
man's concreteness, his being-in-the-world, the church has treated him as
a duality whose ills are " soul " ills and whose liberation is therefore
solely spiritual. Thus to describe the mission of the church in terms of
socio-political liberation is not to describe it exhaustively but simply to
redress a tragic imbalance. The strength of the authors' approach is that
they do not propose the opposite imbalance: they accord salvific power
to no socio-political system.
Yet, the authors have not answered all the questions they raise. They
think the church should not be politicized. They want the church to be
critical of all socio-political structures. And yet they want the church to
support revolution. It is difficult to understand how the church could
support revolution without making political commitments. It is also difficult to understand how the church could support revolution and still
exercise its critical function. Revolution, whether non-violent or violent,
demands deep commitment, rigorous discipline, and uniform conviction.
No revolution could tolerate serious internal criticism and remain viable.
Yet, from the critical perspective of a Christian theology of history, one

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would have ask if the rational models upon which revolutionary progress
is founded could include the paradox of the Cross. Would there be any
room in revolutionary ideology for a doctrine of grace? If room were
found, the tension between freedom and grace would be screwed up to an
intolerable tightness-at least, so it would seem to the revolutionary.
To put it another way: revolution confronts the church with a dilemma:
either the church supports revolution concretely and loses its transcendent
character or it maintains its transcendent character and loses the revolution.
The authors are trying to find a middle ground from which neither
transcendence nor revolution is lost. The " critical " position, they would
say, is midway between absorbing identification with any political system
and lofty abstraction from any political position. Most crucially, they
could argue that the critical position is a concrete position that does justice
both to the transcendent dimension of the church's proclamation and to
the immanent dimension of the church as institution. In other words, the
critical position allows the church to be political with integrity: true to its
dialectical proclamation of now and not-yet, of present but future reality,
of liberation that is real but incomplete; in short, to paraphrase the
Epistle to Diognetus, the church can be really in the world but not of the
world.
My difficulty with this finely balanced position is that, if I were a
revolutionary, I would say that tranferring the transcendent" pie" from the
sky to the end of the road is no more than a conceptual shift that lets the
church "cop out" when the shooting starts. Transcendence, conceived of
in contemporary political theology as temporal rather than spatial, " future "
rather than "above, " is still transcendence. As a revolutionary, I would
not trust the church.
The question-how does the church concretely support revolution-is
not answered adequately in this book. But when one translates the
question one is less likely to be impatient with Houtart and Rousseau for
not having resolved it. The question translates to: if there is to be
human freedom, how can there be grace?; or, if the secular order is
autonomous, how can it relate to the sacred?; or if there is human striving,
how can the existence of a God not rob it of meaning? The best answers
to such questions have not destroyed the complexity of the questions
before answering them.
The importance of the book rests not upon the answers that it attempts
but upon the questions that it raises. By providing hard-headed sociopolitical analysis Houtart and Rousseau recall the church from illusory
political abstinence and confront it with the modern context of its
paradoxical existence. Much work needs to be done; yet enough has
been done " to have persuaded some people to continue their struggle for
man's liberation now and in the future within the framework of the
Church. " (p. 845)
I recommend this competent and provocative book to all who are

BOOK REVIEWS

631

concerned either with the Third World or with the role of the church in
the modern world.
DoNALD E. BYRNE JR.
Lebanon Valley CoUege
Annville, Pa.

The Return of Magic. By DAVID FARREN. New York:
1972. Pp. 128. $4.95.

Harper & Row,

The Behavioral Theory in Psychology has made a great deal of human
needs in explaining the adjustive responses of the human organism and
psyche to various stimuli. It appears that David Farren (pseudonym)
sees The Return of Magic in our society as just such an adjustive
response. Perhaps magic can fill a human need for modem man
where both science and religion are falling short. Magic adds a dimension
of subjectivity to the cold logical approach of science, making room for
the warmth of imagination and will, in its view of reality. To religious
faith magic adds a certitude. It purports to understand the universe
though a systematic causality, different from that of science, by which the
magician can command the forces of nature.
Mr. Farren tells quite honestly of his rejection of faith after a strong
commitment to Catholicism evidenced by ten years in the Jesuit Order.
It is only after marriage that he found out that his new spouse was a
genetic witch, as distinguished from a cultural witch of the Sybil Leek ilk.
Particularly fascinating is the account of her initiation to witchcraft
through a strange sequence of experiences which led to a diagnosis of
schizophrenia and a stay in a sanitarium for the mentally ill.
Generally the author displays a refreshing honesty and openness to
other points of view, even stimulating the reader to religion, interest in
the science of parapsychology, or commitment to magic. These parallel
three suggested interpretations of magic as supernatural, paranormal, or
natural.
It has become quite common, if not even fashionable, in this twentiethcentury Western world to undergo crises of faith; this is the logical
consequence of an existential philosophy and psychology which focuses on
the subject in an isolated milieu of feelings, relationships, and often
loneliness. Those who see faith as not only satisfying a human need but
also giving insight into the truth-of a real God who gives meaning to
our satellite existence-frequently wonder about the thought processes of
a crisis of faith. The Return of Magic will provide considerable understanding at least of one such case.
JoHN J. NICoLA
National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception
WMhington, D. C.

BOOKS RECEIVED
Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Cientificas: Jacobus M. Ramirez, 0. P.
Omnia Opera Tomus IV De Actibus Humanis. In I-II Summae
Theologiae Divi Thomae Expositio (QQ. VI-XXI) (Pp. 641, 500
ptas paper, 550 ptas hardbound); Paz Y Derecho de Gentes.
Annuario de la Associacion Francisco de Vitoria. (Pp.
Creation House, Inc.: Jesus, Where Are You Taking Us? Messages from
the First International Lutheran Conference on the Holy Spirit,
ed. by Norris L. Wogen. (Pp.
$4.95); Eyes to Behold Him, by
Michael Gaydos. (Pp. 189, $4.95); For Those Tears, by Nora Lam
and Cliff Dudley. (Pp. 178, $4.95)
Fides Publishers: Theology Today Series. 18 The Theology of God, by
Andrew Lascaris, 0. P. (Pp. 90); 86 The Theology of Angels and
Devils, by Rob van der Hart. (Pp. 84, 95¢ each)
Free Press: Philosophy and Technology. Readings in the Philosophic
Problems of Technology, ed. by Carl Mitchum and Robert Mackey.
(Pp. 410)
Hutchinson Univeresity Libarary: The Philosophy of Biology, by Michael
Ruse. (Pp.
L 1.85 paper, L 8.00 cased)
Inter-Varsity Press: The Challenge of Religious Studies, by Kenneth G.
Christ & The Bible, by John W.
Howkins. (Pp. 150,
Wenham. (Pp.
Quest for Reality: Christianity and
the Counter Culture, by Carl F. H. Henry and others. (Pp. 161,
Alfred A. Knopf, Inc.:

Kierkegaard, by Josiah Thompson.

(Pp.

$8.95)

La Garangola Tipografia Editrice: Le Forme del Sapere e Il Messagio dell'
Intenzione, by Renato Lazzarini. (Pp. 814, L. 6.000)
Marquette University Press: The Problem of the Criterion. 1978 Aquinas
Lecture, by Roderick M. Chisolm. (p.
St. Gregory's Seminary, Cincinnati:
Science is Philosophy, by Charles
Hollencamp. (Pp.
$8.00)
Sheed & Ward: Soundings in Satanism, assembled by F. J. Sheen. (Pp.
$8.45 paper, $6.95, cloth); Christ in the Classroom, by F. J.
Sheed.
Yale University Press: Analogy and Philosophical Language, by David
Burrell, C. S.C. (Pp.
$10.00)
University of Michigan Press: Science and Religion in Seventeenth-CPntury
England. (Pp.
Vitae Pensiero: Comunione e Obbedienza nella Libertd. Una dimensione
L. 8700)
della Chiesa d'Oggi. (Pp.

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