SEGUNDO'S LIBERATION THEOLOGY vs. AN
ESCHATOLOGICAL ECCLESIOLOGY OF THE
KINGDOM

J

UAN LUIS SEGUNDO, S.J.'s five-volume work, a Theology for Artisans of a New Humanity, represents a major
effort to expound the fundamental tenets of liberation
theology, and to delineate in a systematic fashion the effects of
that theology upon the various branches of Christian thought.
It is not without reason that Segundo started off his series
with a volume on the Church: The Community Called Church. 1
For Segundo, the primary Christian crisis today is one of faith,
rooted in the apparent alienation of the faith experience from
the problems of the modern world. For Segundo, "Why do I
believe? " and " In what do I believe? " cannot be separated
from the lived experience of the faith's response to the problems
of the day. It is in answer to this need, therefore, that Segundo
proposes a theology of the Church that will " demonstrate that
the content of our faith is a valid response (in faith) to the
real problems that form our history" (vii-viii) .
What we propose to do in this article is first to examine the
major elements in Segundo's ecclesiology; secondly, to suggest
that his views, while acceptable, do not go far enough; and
:finally, to propose our own eschatological ecclesiology of the
kingdom as a more complete explanation of the role of the
Church in the world, and in fact, more adequate to present
needs.
Two caveats are in order. By his own admission, Segundo
does not propose to present a complete theology of the Church.
Nor does he mean to imply that" the issues about the Church
not treated here are considered less important or less certain"
(ix). In spite of his warning, however, it is hard to believe that
other dimensions of the Church not treated in his work could
1 Maryknoll, N.Y., 1973. Page references from this volume will be noted within
the text.

1

MARTIN R. TRIPOLE, S.J.

be understood to have the same importance in his eyes as those
presented here. Whether this is the case or not, however, our
purpose is still useful, since we are proposing elements of Christian ecclesiology which we feel must be present before a treatment of the community called Church may in any sense be considered adequate.
Secondly, it is probably impossible in the long run to critique
Segundo's ecclesiology without treating at the same time his
sacramentology. But that will be too much for one article. We
hope to write at a later date on that subject. However, since
Segundo himself separates his treatment of the Church and his
treatment of sacraments by three volumes in his series and by
three years between publication, it is probably not improper to
understand him to say that each of the volumes may to some
,extent stand separately, and may to some extent be treated
separately. This article, therefore, shall be directed only towards treatment of Segundo's ecclesiology.
Segundo's Theology of the Church
Segundo's theology of the Church represents an attempt to
answer the question: why the Church? " What is the infinitesimal Christian community supposed to do within the vast community of mankind? " (4) . This is a major question for Segundo because he sees the role of the Church essentially against
the larger background of God's universal salvi:fic operation.
Segundo's problem, then, becomes how to accept a traditional
conception of the Christian community as made up of those
who are to be saved, if this can possibly mean that God has
condemned all the rest of mankind since the dawn of history
that nev.er belonged to this community. But if, on the other
hand, God has not so condemned them, why the Church? The
point is, then, to explain the role of "a community that is so
small compared to the whole human race " (loc. cit.) within
God's larger plan of universal salvation.
Segundo begins by proposing that the Church is a particular

LIBERATION THEOLOGY

3

community at the same time as it is universal, and that the
early Church simultaneously affirmed both characteristics of
the Church and a theology of salvation related to each. The
particular theology of salvation is affirmed in Mark 16: 15-16:
" Go into the whole world and preach the gospel to the whole
creation. He who believes and is baptized will be saved; but he
who does not believe will be condemned" (8) . According to
Segundo:
Here we have a very clear line of thought about salvation, in which
salvation appears to be conditioned by the fact of entering the
Church through faith and baptism, through faith in Christ's preaching, and through the sacrament which makes one a part of the
Church. Salvation is attributed to this (8) .

The universal conception of salvation Segundo finds in the
last judgment scene in Matt 25: 31-46. As Segundo understands
the text, Jesus is saying to all humanity" What did you do for
me when I was hungry, thirsty, alone, and mistreated? " and he
is awarding " eternal life " to all those who " showed true love,
that is, to those who truly aided the God-made-man." According to Segundo, such actions are " divine, supernatural actions,
and yet required of all men and can be found in them." But the
essential point for salvation, according to Segundo, is that the
actions are "invested with love ": "The merit of the things
they did for other human beings, invested with love, reaches the
God who is brother of all and brings them to eternal life " (910).

Thus, according to Segundo, " One line of thought attributes
salvation to a universal factor such as love; the other attributes
it to a particular factor such as entry and permanent membership in the ecclesial community" (10) . How, then, are the two
dimensions to be synthesized? Segundo's answer to this question provides him with the two-pronged
of the role
of the Church and formal membership in the Church within
God's universal plan of salvation: 1) Christians know what
non-believers may live in self-giving love but do not know; and
2) Christians carry out God's mission to be a sign to the world

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MARTIN R. TRIPOLE, S.J.

of what they know-a summons to the non-believer to receive
the enlightenment of the gospel, i.e., the conscious, explicit
awareness that creative, self-giving love is the constructive
principle in God's saving plan for history. Let us briefly consider Segundo's treatment of each of these points.
The Role of Knowledge
What distinguishes the Christian ... ? The answer is obvious. Only
one thing does: the Christian will not be surprised by the criterion
used to judge all men. He will not ask the Lord: When did I see
you? For if he is a believer, he is precisely because he has accepted the revelation of this universal plan which culminates in the
last judgment. The Christian is he who <ilready knows. This, undoubtedly, is what distinguishes and defines him (11).

The point of differentiation for Christianity, according to Segundo, is rooted in the historical actualizing of the universal
mystery of salvation in Jesus Christ: "While Christ is a particular reality in terms of his human life, his mystery takes in
the universality of human beings" (15). As Segundo sees it,
the mystery of salvation is what Paul described as the " divine
plan, hidden but universal in its operation, that runs throughout
history" (27). That mystery, according to Segundo, has both
an historical and universal Incarnation and Redemption. The
historical Christ, " the new Adam," the " reconciler of all
history," established "a real, original relationship with every
single human being" whereby he" engraves the feature of sonship on the face of every human person." As Matt 25: 31-46
clearly indicates, " All human history has touched his heart."
As a result, the historical Incarnation is only the" actual carrying out of the mystery of Christ's Incarnation in a specific time
and place ... [as] the visible, historical moment of the universal
mystery of his personal relationship with the whole of human
history" (14) .
The Redemption is roughly understood in the same way. Its
importance is to be found in the fact that it realizes within
history the goal of God's plan," allowing human beings to share
God's own life in and through Christ" (13) . God's plan is

LIBERATION THEOLOGY

eternai though it " has its moment in history for fulfillment "
(Eph 1: 3-10) (13) . "While Christ is a particular reality in
terms of his human life, his mystery takes in the universality
of human beings " (15) . Through the " great salvific happening" of Christ's" passover," we are made members of his body
and " live the divine life." Because " Christ is the only one
who has made this passageway," we "participate in this new
creation when we are incorporated into him":
it is through Christ and through communion with his life that human existence is enabled to flourish in accordance with the Father's
will. Everything subsists in Christ, and in him everything finds its
supreme source of fulfillment, significance, and value (15).
The meaning of the Church is derived from its relationship
to the historical and universal mystery of Christ's Incarnation
and Redemption. What happens with the historical Christ is
the revelation of the mystery of the universal saving reality of
Christ. So with the historical Church, there is revealed-made
visible and knowJr-the Church as a universal saving reality.
Segundo's words are worth citing here in full:
Thus God's plan has an empirical aspect, which is salvation history.
This history finds its origin in Abraham and reaches its culmination in the earthly life of Christ. After Pentecost, the paschal
Christ continues his visibility and presence in the Church, which is
"a visible assembly and a spiritual community" (GS 40). The
Mystical Christ (i.e., the Church as a particular reality) and the
Cosmic Christ (the Church as a universal reality) are inseparable
aspects of the one and only Christian reality. They differ only in
terms of faith and the sacraments (visible signs and awareness of
the Christian mystery); they do not differ at all in salvation content. Both are inseparable, as are the sacramental sign and the
grace signified, as are the historical Christ (who is particular and
visible) and his universal salvation mystery. The paschal Christ
is the Mystical Christ and the Cosmic Christ at the same time.
The Church, as a particular reality, is the conscious and visible
sign of the presence of Christ the Savior in the heart of each human
being (the Church as a universal reality). Thus by starting with
the incarnate Christ and his mystery, we make clear the distinction
between, and the inseparability of, the particular reality and the
universal reality of Christ's Church (15).

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MARTIN R. TRIPOLE, S.J.

The essential ingredient establishing the relationship of the
historical saving Church and the universal reality of salvation
is explicitly revealed, according to Segundo, in the Johannine
statement that " God is love " (1 Jn 4: 8, 16) . This is the revelation to us by Christ, who is, in fact, God's gift of himself and
his very own life to us. Only as a result of this divine gift are
we capable of giving of ourselves to others. As a result, anyone's
practice of self-giving love in effect indicates that such a person
is a recreated being:
any love man shows for his fellow men, however simple it may be,
is divine in origin thanks to the timeless gift God has given to all
men. It is therefore supernatural in itself and conducive to eternal
life.

Thus it is that the " object of all real love between human be·ings is God as well as the person loved " (25-27) .
Just as the particular Incarnation and Redemption have their
universal dimensions, so does God's self-giving love in Christ
have its universal dimension in the "mystery . . . that runs
throughout history . . . from the beginning of humanity to its
end" and surpassing all time (27-28). This universal saving
love of God becomes historical, however, " in the sense that it
[the message of the gospel] lets us know about God loving and
operating in humanity and humanity acting with God even
though men may not know it" (29: italics added) .
What, then, has changed since the time of Christ? According
to Segundo, it is that there is now knowledge of God's saving
plan: " knowledge of this loving plan operating as a mystery ...
is at work solely from the time Christ came into human history " (28) .
We prescind for the moment from the question of whether or
not Segundo is able to retain the historical importance of the
death and resurrection of Christ if he understands that event to
be only the " visible, historical moment of the universal mystery" of salvation (14). Our question is: what effect does
Segundo's understanding of the universal mystery of salvation,
present in God's self-giving love and now revealed by the his-

:J_.IBERATION THEOLOGY

7

torical Christ, have upon the role of the Church? The answer,
in effect, is simply that the Church is the means to make this
universal mystery of salvation known. Segundo repeatedly
argues that there is no salvific advantage to being a Christian.
There is only knawledge of that which is already amply available to mankind:
[T]he Church is the consciousness of humanity as it were. She is
humanity arriving at full awareness of what is taking place in it
(Q9-30).

[The sacrament of baptism] not only confers grace on the Christian
[as does baptism of desire] but also signifies it: it lets us know it. In
essence and mission, the Christian is he who knows, he who is acquainted with the hidden reality of God's gift which passes our way
without men knowing it (31).
All men travel the same road, and it leads to salvation: it is the
road of self-giving through love. The journey is common to all men .
. . . The only thing is that some people on this road, through God's
revelation, know something that relates to all; they know the mystery of the journey (SQ).

Mismon Through Sign of Self-Giving Love
The Church that has this knowledge, according to Segundo,
has a second essential characteristic: its mission toward the
world. For Segundo, the second characteristic logically follows
from the first. For once we have ascertained that the Christian
community is the community of those who know God's universal saving mystery in Christ-that salvation is in self-giving
in love-the question arises as to the value and import of this
knowledge. What purpose does it serve the Christian? The
answer is that it creates the Church as mgn to the world of the
Good News of salvation in love. Thus the Christian community's role is to engage the world in dialogue regarding the basic
questions of meaning in life, and to respond by sign to those
questions, through a life of witness to the world that the fullness
of meaning is found in self-giving through love. The difference
in the Church is that its practice of saving love is "tied in ...
with faith and the sacraments," whereas that which is required
of humanity in general is "simply real love" (52) (cf. Matt
25:31-46).

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MARTIN R. TRIPOLE, S.J.

Segundo is thus led to consider the question of the necessity
of the Church. For if the saving process of real love is available
to the world in general, is the Church really necessary? What
is given there over and above what is available outside the
Church? According to Segundo, in the Church, the
dawning of conscious awareness, explicitation, and reflection ... is
not simply a higher perfection but a whole new world. It is the
world of the human where man plays out what he once played out
on the level of instinct [ !?] ; it is a system of relationships which,
through their signification, affects and determines the very roots
of life (54).
But how precisely does this" conscious awareness" make a difference, Segundo asks himself. The answer: only in terms of
the essential contribution of the Church to the world (55). That
contribution is seen in terms of the outside world's unconscious
movement of self-giving love as a" preparation for the gospel."
The role of the Church is to bring that journey forward to" an
encounter," in dialogue "between a question that is moving
forward and the 'good news' ('gospel') that is waiting hopefully (LG 16)" (55). Thus the non-Christian is seen as one
who was ever seeking " the good news that the Christian had
to give" (56) .
Segundo goes further, however, by arguing that if this saving
love, available on the level of humanity in general," is to overcome its intrinsic obstacles, ... [it] must pose questions and
encounter the corresponding answers that can only come with
full-fledged faith" (56). Why? What does the Christian revelation provide, that this general human love and general beginning-faith experience that resides in it does not have? Segundo
argues that the knowledge of the revelation provided by the
historical Christ brings an essential experience of certainty of
hope, assurance of the worthwhileness of the journey, and courage to persevere to its end:
The most demanding question of love has to do with its trust and
hope. Is love worth the effort, when it is so probable it will be
shipwrecked? ... The result of this crisis of hope is that ... [one

LIBERATION THEOLOGY

9

does] not invest in the experiment the decisive and total resources
which love would require to be truly victorious (57-58; last italics
added).
Rahner points out that ... Even though a person may not allow
for the whole scope and hopefulness of Christian love, the very
fact that he lives among men who do love with full-fledged hope
and unreservedly will often cause him to resolve his doubts in favor
of love. This love will have been fully fleshed out, and it is for this
purpose alone that God revealed his mystery to men (60; italics
added).
·
This process of maturing experience in the bosom of a truly human relationship causes the believer and the nonbeliever to traverse
the same road, forcing upon them the same obligations of authenticity and communication. In this process speech and language go
through a deep ascesis until the person truly arrives at the major
question indicated above ["Who are we? "]. It is at this latter
point that one can insert the proclamation of the Good News.
Without this process of dialogue, without this growth in authenticity, and without this experience of communication, the proclamation of the faith is in danger of being turned into an ideology or a
myth that is unacceptable to our contemporaries (68; italics
added).
The Church is, then, a sign because it " has been placed here
precisely and exclusively to pass on to men a certain signification, i.e., a message, something to be grasped, comprehended,
and incorporated to a greater or lesser degree into the fashioning of history and the world" (81). Thus the primary purpose
of the Church is not to be understood in terms of its own members, but rather, as directed toward the good of those outside
the Church:
The primary preoccupation of the Church is not directed toward
her own inner life but toward people outside. Unlike other organizations founded for the benefit of its own members, the Church is
a community sent to those who live, act, and work outside her own
narrow limits (81).
To be a Christian is to belong to a community that has been sent
into the world (81).
Does any saving purpose reside in the Church, according to
Segundo, through its internal life with its members? No. Segundo states: "the Church only aids the salvation of those who

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MARTIN R. TRIPOLE, S.J.

belong to her when their membership corresponds with the
function that the Church is called upon to exercise with regard
to the rest of the human race" (82) . For Segundo, membership
in the Church is saving only insofar as it is lived in responsible
proclamation of the Good News to the world outside the Church
and in dialogue with that world. As soon as life in the Church
is " detached from this responsibility " and lived " for the benefit of those who have availed themselves " of the interior life of
the Church," then membership in the Church becomes a backward step on the road to salvation. It becomes another form of
egotism " (83) .
In sum, the Church is a sign to the world of what the Church
knows. The Church expresses that sign through its mission of
"service of humanity" (131), leading the world, already" moving toward the ' illumination of the gospel,' " to the enlightenment to be found there (125) . The Church takes up the mission of responsible proclamation of its knowledge to the world
through its life and dialogue with the world. In this way, the
Church shares in the world's creative process by which it is built
up out of love (ll l) , and provides the " leaven and salt" and
drive (86) , the conscious awareness which is necessary in order
to lead the world onward in a life of personal self-giving in responsible love that terminates in the fullest realization of a life
of union with God.

Critique
It is not difficult to find many fuzzy areas in Segundo's theology of the Church, not to mention his redemptive Christology.
It is the fuzziness of the latter that forms the basis for the
imprecision and uncertainties in his ecclesiology. For if salvation is to be found universally in love expressed in self-giving,
it is truly difficult to determine what precisely Jesus's death and
resurrection added to that process of salvation other than exemplary causality. It is not enough to argue, as Segundo does,
that only in the historical Christ is the saving" passover" made
possible, when at the same time he argues for a mystery of

LIBERATION THEOLOGY

11

salvation present in the whole of human history, which, in the
last analysis, is God's universal saving gift of himself to mankind in love. Once Segundo summarizes his redemptive Christology in this way as the particularizing of universal salvation,
he can find nothing left for the Church to do but to know this
(whereas non-Christians can only live it) and responsibly to
seek to convey this knowledge to non-believers. But then Segundo has a new problem of trying to indicate clearly what the
value of this knowledge is, and he is never able to do so. To say
that it leads to greater security in hope or certainty of the road
to salvation may be true but it is hardly adequate, especially in
today's world where the role of the intellect so often goes unappreciated. We are living in an age that gives priority to life
and action over knowledge. The average non-Christian would
rightly question Segundo at this point: what difference does it
make whether or not I explicitly know I am on the road to salvation in Christ, as long as I live the life of self-giving on that
road? To argue that doubts are resolved through the Christian
revelation (60), or that greater possibilities for self-giving are
available in this way (58) says little to an age that has come to
live comfortably in the midst of uncertainty, and is already
living enough of a life of comfortable concern for others to get
by satisfying the demands of Christian self-giving.
But it is our purpose here to speak directly to Segundo's
theology of the Church and his two-pronged conception of its
life of knowledge and sign. We do not wish to argue that Segundo is wrong in deciphering the role of the Church in this
way; we wish, rather, to propose that his ecclesiology does not
go far enough, for the following reasons:
I) To begin with, Segundo has fundamentally erred by setting his study of the significance of the Church within the context of the process of attaining salvation. For once he has done
this and then looks at the Church, he is almost immediately
faced with the question: is the Church necessary for salvation?,
and, since he will want to argue that membership in the Church
is not absolutely necessary-otherwise what is to be said of all
those billions of people who were never in the Church-he is

MARTIN R. TRIPOLE, S.J.

forced to conclude that one can be saved while not formally
being a member of the Church. This then leaves him with no
alternative but to affirm that the Church's function is to explicitate the already existing journey of history toward salvation. Thus with the Church comes explicit knowledge of salvation, whereas without the Church there is only implicit
knowledge of salvation-implicitly known wherever self-giving
love is present.
But I would propose that the heart of the theology of the
Church is not to be found against the background of the problem of salvation, though that is surely involved, nor that the
role of the Church is simply to explicate what is already unconsciously present in history. One should begin one's study of
the Church by seeing the Church first in terms of an interpersonal relationship b'etween God and Christian believers through
Jesus Christ. The Christian faith experience is not ultimately
a process of salvation, but an encounter with God in an interpersonal experience of him through Jesus Christ. It is that
experience that indeed concomitantly brings salvation, for salvation is to be with God forever in Jesus Christ, but the person
of Christ simply cannot be replaced by a process of salvation.
The salvation dimension that comes with sharing in God's life,
therefore, should never overshadow the fact that Christianity is
ultimately rooted in a faith experience with Jesus's Father and
with Jesus himself as God's Son and Messiah. Jesus ultimately
challenged his hearers to be believers, not to be conscious of
what they already implicitly knew.
The difference is hardly an insignificant one. For if in fact
Jesus called his disciples through faith to an interpersonal relationship with his Father through him, then, indeed, that is
ultimately what is to be understood as the fundamental dimension of the faith experience as we enter into it today, and it is
that relationship which is not found outside the faith experience. We might refer to the difference between the believer and
the non-believer as explicit faith ("I believe in Jesus Christ")
vs. implicit faith (" as often as you did it for one of my least

LIBERATION THEOLOGY

brothers, you did it for me" [Matt 25: 40]) , but such words
belie the fundamental difference between life in the Church and
life outside that community. When speaking of interpersonal
relationships, there is quite a difference between an explicit one
("I know you and love you") and an implicit one ("his/her
actions indicate a presence of knowledge and love though he/she
does not know it ") . True interpersonal relationships are simply
not re-presented on an implicit level. They must be made explicit if they are really to be entered into, if there is truly a life
to be shared there. It is in fact once they are explicitated and
consciously shared in that an obvious difference occurs in the
lives of the two who have encountered each other, and it is then
that knowledge has its role. For if I know something explicitly,
I am able to allow it to enter into and to affect my life in a way
barely possible otherwise. Knowledge does make a difference in
our lives-especially when it is interpersonal-because
I am
then able through that interpersonal relationship to realize new
levels of human communication and attain depths of being as
a person not available on the implicit level. In terms of the
matter of salvation, there may be no significant difference there
-both may equally be saved (more on this later)-but since
human beings are ultimately not things to be saved but persons
who attain levels of experience and depth of life through interpersonal experience, understanding the Christian faith experience ultimately in terms of interpersonal relationships constitutes a fundamental difference.
2) Segundo fails to understand fully the significance of knowledge as used in the Scriptures. Granting that the Christian
community knows what the non-Christian does not know, we
must insist that this knowledge brings to the community more
than intellectual perception and conviction of purpose. What
Segundo fails to bring out is the existential depth that comes
with the knowledge of the person of God:
Knowledge for the Semite is more than a recondite process of understanding because it involves an existential relationship. To know
an object is to have a completely real experience of it .... Knowl-

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MARTIN R. TRIPOLE, S.J.

edge of God is attained ... when man shares in God's covenant
(Jr 31, 34) and is gradually led to close acquaintance with God. 2

Knowledge for the Hebrew came in and through faith, and to
have knowledge or to have faith was to be rooted in the truth.
A believer was one who, through knowing the truth, stood as it
were on firm soil, and derived solidity, strength, and firmness in
life from that position. Not to be in the truth or not to have
faith was to believe that one does know the truth when in fact
one does not. It is to live as if one is standing on solid ground,
when in fact one is standing on sand. It is to have no firmness,
no solidity, no support in one's life. On the contrary, one who
is in the truth is in touch with reality as it really is. The effect
is that the believer derives a power from that contact that is
otherwise unattainable:
The summary of God's word is 'emet, stability and solidity (Ps.
119: 160) ; his promises too are 'emet-they " hold " and possess a
carrying capacity on which the whole of man's life can be built as
11) .... The people who
on an unshakable foundation (Ps.
refer to God in this way have not discovered his solid reality as a
static quality, but have experienced him as a dynamic reality proving itself in history. Truth will manifest and impose itself in the
future as an unassailable and steadfast reality .... God is the protagonist of history. His mobilizing and leading presence is a most
impressive bearer of his people's existence. 3

In terms of the Judea-Christian faith, this means that one
who believes in the God who has revealed himself in Jesus
Christ shares in the power of God's life, and derives all the
strength and stability of his/her life from that existential union
with God. It is that power that becomes operative in the beJiever's life and transforms the quality of his/her future activity. Not only can the believer go forward in history with a
power not otherwise available to human beings, but the believer
can transform history with a power that is simply not present in
the same way and to the same degree to the non-believer. If
2 Xavier Leon-Dufour
(ed.), Dictionary of Biblical Theology, rev. ed. (New
York, 1973), p. 296. Hereafter, Leon-Dufour.
3 S. J. Heijke, The Bible on Faith (De Pere, Wisc., 1966), pp. 6, 8.

THEOLOGY

15

knowledge leads to action, as it surely does, then it is simply
not possible, under ordinary circumstances, to have the same
quality of transformation of history present in the non-believer's activity as is available to the believer, if the believer takes
advantage of the power of life that is available to him/her in
and through that belief. This is surely not to deny a power of
life in the activities of non-believers, but it is not the same as
that available to believers if they choose to live deeply in their
faith.
Unbalance is derived from the fact that believers so often
do not in fact have existential depth in their knowledge-it is
often purely intellectual-and because non-believers, in spite of
their lack of knowledge of God in Christ, nevertheless in one
way or another are brought into some kind of relationship with
Christ through what they do know, or through the compatibility of their lives with Christian living. Matt 25: 31-46 is
indeed helpful in this respect, because it indicates a true power
that comes to the non-believer from a life of self-giving even
though the non-believer does not know the true significance of
his/her activity. Such non-knowledge could never, however, be
said to lead to the same power and effectiveness that activity
through knowledge can have, nor is there any basis from Jesus's
words in Matt 25: 31-46 to imply that. For the Hebrews as well
as the early Christians, life from beginning to end was rooted in
the power that comes from a life of faith in God, and without
that power, there was nothing but aimlessness or power without
power.
The man who has faith in God becomes a collaborator with the
almighty, since he is not only His creature but also His image
(Gn 1,
He testifies to this collaboration especially in the
domination which he exercises over land and beast (Si 17,
Far
from cringing before the forces of nature, man ought to master
them, a task which he can accomplish if he remains submissive to
his Creator in humble trust.
Paul echoes Jesus in teaching that by faith man opens himself to
the power of salvation in the gospel (R 1, 16). Faith wins "the
knowledge of Christ, and the power of His resurrection, and the
fellowship of His sufferings" (Ph 8, 9f). Jesus crucified saves the

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MARTIN R. TRIPOLE, S.J'.

believing faithful. For them He is the power of God (1 Co 1,
18.23£). For the weakness of God is stronger than men, and His
power manifests itself in the frailty of His witnesses (1 Co 1, 25;
2 Co 12, 9) .... For they have put their belief in the power of God
who has raised Christ from the dead (Col 2, 12; 2 Co 13, 4). They
are powerfully fortified by His Spirit (E 3, 16) which makes their
words the Word of God and communicates to them the power of
the divine Word (1 Th 1, 5; 2, 13). In them acts the incomprehensible grandeur of the divine power which surpasses every thought
and expectation (2 Co 4, 7; E 1, 19:ff; 3, 20) .4

3) The fact that there is power that comes with faith-a
power that is rooted in the believer's share in the life of Godbecomes a basis for affirming, against Segundo, that a) there
is a salvation component present in the life of a Christian which
is not simply derived from the Christian's entrance into the
Church's mission toward the outside world; and b) this salvation experience is not simply to be explained as no more effective for the attainment of salvation than is the process of
salvation available to the non-believer in self-giving love.
As we have already noted, Segundo argues that "the Church
only aids the salvation of those who belong to her when their
membership corresponds with the function that the Church is
called upon to exercise with regard to the rest of the humap.
race" (82) . That is simply not true. What Segundo fails
totally to comprehend is the internal value, majesty, and effectiveness of the Church's life upon its members. In short, what
Segundo has totally misunderstood is the role of the sacramental activity of the Church, as we hope to indicate in a subsequent article. Segundo, in his bias toward social activism,
roots the total life of the Church in what must be understood
as an important, but nevertheless only one important dimension
of the life of the Church. If in fact the Spirit of Christ creates
the Chl1rch, and those who are living in the Church are members of the Body of Christ through the power of his Spirit, it
makes no sense to argue that that life has no specifically internal saving features.
''Leon-Dufour, pp. 439,

LIBERATION. THEOLOGY

17

Segundo once again fails to appreciate the importance of interpersonal relationships. A limp analogy may help here. Surely
one would never decipher the significance of a human interpersonal love relationship by its effect upon the lives of those outside the relationship, although surely that effect cannot be
underplayed in view of the fact that no two human beings may
ever be comprehended apart from their lives in the larger community. At the same time, the primary raison d'etre for the
love relationship-the first area of significance for the love relationship-must be found in terms of the internal life created
by that relationship. What happens is that a new creation is
formed, by which each of the two members shares intimately
in the other's life. That relationship has an effect on the life of
each of the partners that simply is not available to either in
any other way-not even through a different interpersonal relationship that might have come from a contract with a different
marriage partner. The person is in himself/herself irreplaceable.
In terms of the new community formed between believers and
God through Christ, a new relationship is established, and this
relationship presents its own internal possibilities for growth
and eternal union that are simply not specifically the same as
the life of salvation experienced in the Church's responsible
carrying out of its mission toward the world, nor are they the
same as the salvation experience available to the non-believer
in the implicit process of salvation he/she unknowingly undertakes in self-giving love. The internal life experience has unique
characteristics beyond the salvation components available on
either of the other two levels. This is not to deny that both in
the explicit and in the implicit relationship with God, as well
as in the Church's mission activity toward the world, salvation
is a proper component. People involved in each type of relationship might equally be saved. But the question here is one
of objective possibilities for union with God involving salvation.
These possibilities are explicitly present in the explicit relationship with God in Christ in faith, and this relationship presents
greater objective possibilities for life through the human partner's conscious knowledge of them and subsequent engagement

18

MARTIN R. TRIPOLE, S.J.

with them. These possibilities cannot be said to be equally
present and available to the human partner who is not conscious of them in the case of the non-believer, nor of no significance apart from the mission life of the Church. The power of
these resources is available to the person who has knowledge of
them and who can through that knowledge put them into effective expression in his/her internal life of union with God in
Christ in his Church.
Segundo catalogues numerous texts from Vatican II to support his one-sided insistence upon the importance of the mission
life of the Church (GS
cf GS I, 11, 40, 43). What Segundo
fails to do is consider all the texts that argue as well for a
greater vitality in the internal life of the community of Christ.
May we note one text which explicitly sees the mission dimension only realizable if the life of the Church is internally in
proper accord:
Thus, missionary activity among the nations differs from pastoral
activity exercised among the faithful, as w.ell as from undertakings
aimed at restoring unity among Christians. And yet these two
other activities are most closely connected with the missionary
zeal of the Church, because the division among Christians damages
the most holy cause of preaching the gospel to every creature and
blocks the way to the faith for many. Hence, by the same mandate
which makes missions necessary, all the baptized are called to be
gathered into one flock, and thus to be able to bear unanimous witness before the nations to Christ the Lord. And if they are not yet
capable of bearing full witness to the same faith, they should at
least be animated by mutual esteem and love (AG 6). (Abbott
translation.)
LG 3 notes that in the Eucharistic celebration the " unity of all
believers who form one body in Christ (cf. I Cor 10: 17) is both
expressed and brought about." In LG 4 Vatican II clearly
emphasizes the vitality and power that is present to the faithful
in their own interior life:
The Spirit dwells in the Church and in the hearts of the faithful
as in a temple (cf. 1 Cor. 3: 16; 6: 19). In them He prays and bears
witness to the fact that they are adopted sons (cf. Gal. 4:6; Rom.
The Spirit guides the Chureh into the fullness of
8: 15-16 and
truth (cf. Jn. 16: 13) and gives her a unity of fellowship and service.

LIBERATION THEOLOGY

19

He furnishes and directs her with various gifts, both hierarchical and
charismatic, and adorns her with the fruits of His grace (cf. Eph.
4:11-12; I Cor. 12:4; Gal. 5:22). By the power of the gospel He
makes the Church grow, perpetually renews her, and leads her to
perfect union with her Spouse (italics added).

Christ is seen in the liturgy to be proclaiming his gospel to his
faithful (SC 33) , thereby bringing them to a greater unity with
the" worshiping Church of heaven" (LG 50). Let it be noted
that bishops as "shepherd's of Christ's flock" are to be ready
to " lay down their life for their sheep" and to " lead the
Church to ever-increasing holiness" (LG 41). Moreover, God
has chosen " to make men holy and save them not merely as
individuals without any mutual bonds, but by making them
into a single people, a people which acknowledges Him in truth
and serves Him in holiness" (LG 9; italics added) . I am suggesting that, in these texts, it is not the primacy of the mission
to non-Christians that Vatican II had in mind, but the primacy
of the internal mission Christians have toward one another,
and the vitality of the life of union with Christ that comes
through that life.
Segundo apparently could find little Scriptural support for
his thesis. Chapter 4 of his work, most specifically devoted to
the question of justifying the function of the Church regarding
the non-believing community, labors over 1 Cor 5 as a justification for his position, where Paul argues that a deviant Christian
should be separated from the Christian community, but not
that the Christians should "separate themselves from pagan
sinners " (79) . But the text was hardly intended by Paul to
lead to the conclusion Segundo draws from it, that the "primary preoccupation of the Church is not directed toward her
own inner life but toward people outside" (81). The fact is, it
is only rarely that the early Christian community turned to a
consideration of their responsibilities outside the community,
and then only to " baptize " and " make disciples of all the
nations " (Matt 28: 19) .
Avery Dulles, S.J., has, as is already well known, amply and
accurately argued" how little the New Testament makes of the

QO

MARTIN R. TRIPOLE, S.J.

Church's responsibility toward the temporal order," that there
is nothing in the New Testament to indicate that "there are
people called to the Kingdom without also being called to the
Church" (a point notably ignored by Segundo), and that the
New Testament Church is seen as " existing for the glory of God
and of Christ, and for the salvation of its members in a life beyond the grave. It is not suggested that it is the Church's task
to make the world a better place to live in." 5
Perhaps more typical of the theology of Paul is the idea of
baptism into the death and resurrection of Christ, leading to
the death of the old self and the birth of the new (Rom 6). This
new life is manifested precisely by the new-found relationship
of each member of the community to every other member,
which destroys old barriers to life and creates a new unity of
life in Christ:
Each one of you is a son of God because of your faith in Christ
Jesus. All of you who have been baptized into Christ have clothed
yourself with him. There does not exist among you Jew or Greek,
slave or free man, male or female. All are one in Christ Jesus (Gal
3:26-28; cf. I Cor 12:27-31).

If Paul proclaims the gospel-as he surely does-it is to draw
non-believers into a saving relationship to Christ through their
baptism into the saving Body of Christ. There is little suggestion in his writings that he ever had any other intention in mind.
He does not conceive of the proclamation of the gospel for any
other purposes. It is wrong, therefore, to suggest that there is
scriptural basis for the thesis that there is no saving significance
in the Christian life apart from its mission to non-believers.
Rather, the fullness of the life of salvation is present only when
the saving life of Christ is entered into within the life of the
Church (I Cor 10: 16-17) for the loving encounter with Christ
by the Church's own members, and in view of its mission toward those outside the Christian community. There is no reason for emphasizing either to the exclusion of the other. But
even then, the mission of Paul toward the non-believer is under5 Avery Dulles, S.J., Models of the Church (New York, 1974), pp. 94-95. Hereafter, Dulles.

LIBERATION THEOLOGY

taken to draw the non-believer into the fullness of the life
experienced within the Christian community and not to a faith
experience in Christ apart from the community.
An Eschatological Ecclesiology of the Kingdom
It is for these reasons that I would like to alter Segundo's
conception of the Church by proposing a far different perspective-one which Segundo seems almost completely to have
ignored. I would see the Church in terms of the larger horizon
of the eschatological realization of the kingdom of God, and
then understand the Church as the eschatological community
revealing and promoting that kingdom. 6
A more adequate conception of the Church, then, would see
the role of the Church in its relationship to the eschatological
coming of the kingdom of God. Such a Church would not live
for itself, but rather, for the kingdom that is to come. The
Church would not preach itself as its goal, would not demand
adherence to itself as the goal of human history, but would call
for adherence to that which is the goal and the meaning of
human existence, namely, the realization of God's kingdom. If
the mission of Christ was to proclaim and to call all people to
the kingdom, then the Church can do nothing more and nothing
less than to carry on that same mission by proclaiming and calling all people to the kingdom.
The Church therefore does not directly call all people to
itself but to the kingdom. The Church calls people to itself only
insofar as the Church is identified with those who have explicitly been chosen to designate within history the call of the
kingdom and who explicitly within history live out a life of
designated members of the kingdom. This does not necessarily
imply that those who are in the Church will attain the kingdom,
6 Segundo does state:
" The community called Church has, as ·its fundamental
mission, the transmission of the faith. It is commissioned to proclaim that the
Kingdom is already here in our midst. In our day this perennial task of the Church
entails fundamental obligations" (67). So far as I can determine, this is his only
consideration of the Church in reference to the kingdom, and hardly an adequate
one.

MARTIN R. TRIPOLE, S.J.

for they must live a life of responsible membership, but as
formal members of the Churoh, they are at least designated as
having heard and accepted the call to live a life of responsible
membership for the kingdom. Christians thereby enter into the
fullest knowledge of and present experience of a life in union
with God in Christ. Thus the call to membership in the Church
is an integral part of, though it does not replace the call to,
membership in the kingdom. The Church can never make itself
a substitute for the kingdom. The Church can never work for
its own glory but only for that of the kingdom. Thus it is not
simply membership in the Church that is the goal of the
Church, nor is membership in the Church a guarantee of membership in the kingdom. The goal of the Church as Church is
nevertheless membership in the community of those who have
been chosen to live a life of fidelity to Christ and his kingdom
in the hope of becoming full-fledged members of that kingdom.
As a result, the Church has at least three functions: 1) to proclaim to the world the fact that history has become eschatological; i.e., history's terminus is not determined by the limits
of time and space. The Church proclaims that there is a God
who has revealed himself in Jesus Christ and has called all
people to a life in eschatological history, which begins with the
historical Jesus and ends with the parousia; 2) to live a life of
responsible witness to the fact that history is now eschatologically oriented; and 3) to begin to realize-already now-the
life of the kingdom within its own life of community. Though
Segundo would probably not disagree with the first two functions we have indicated here-for his Church is one which proclaims the Good News through responsible service-he fails to
integrate his perspective into the larger context of eschatological history and the theocentric dimension that comes with God's
plan to realize his kingdom. Nevertheless, it is the third function of the Church's life which we have indicated here that has
been especially overlooked by Segundo.
The Church is not simply a witness to the world of the fact
that history is eschatological, nor does it simply point the way
to the eschatological terminus of history, nor does it i;imply

LIBERATION THEOLOGY

proclaim the Good News that history is eschatological, but it
already now anticipates within its interior life the life of the
kingdom. Segundo speaks of the Church as a Church " capable
of super-charity " (121) . But the Church is surely something
more than that. It is anticipation of the kingdom. We are using
the word anticipation here to mean that which precedes something else and gives a foretaste of that thing that is coming; it
is an advanced experience. Thus the Church is a foretaste of
the life of the kingdom. The Church is supposed to give an advanced indication of what the life of the kingdom will be like.
This the Church does by being, already in its interior life, evidence of the character of the life of the kingdom. If the Church
is not the embodiment of the kingdom, it is at least " the initial
budding forth of that kingdom " (LG 5) , the present anticipation of the life of the kingdom. This the Church does by letting
shine through it the present power of the life of the kingdom:
by living in conformity with the proclamation of Christ, by its
sacramental life of baptism and the Eucharist, .and above all by
its life of community: the overcoming of the forces of loneliness,
deprivation, and oppression which destroy the wholeness of life,
and the creation of reconciliation, cooperation, and harmony
among human beings which promote wholeness of life. It is the
grandeur of this life of community which is to be a sign of the
power of the Good News to the world, at the same time as it is
an advanced indication of the life that all are to know in the
eschaton. The Church is thus meant to be a visible embodiment
that pre-views, or makes possible a pre-view, of the life of the
kingdom. But this pre-view makes visible, not only to the outside world but also to its own members, the transformation of
history into the eschatological age.
In view of the fact that the Church anticipates the kingdom,
the Church is also essentially composed of members who may
already now be designated by anticipation as freed. Because
Christians are already now designated for the kingdom, it follows that they are already now defined by their membership in
that kingdom and may no longer be defined by their membership in any other "kingdom." Thus it follows that they are by

MARTIN :R. TRiP6LE, S.J.

right freed from being rightfully subjected to any lesser power
or reality than the kingdom of God: that is, they are freed by
right from enslavement to any lesser institution, creed, doctrine, principles, dictatorships, or ruling powers-any forms of
subjection or enslavement to anything less than the eschato:logical kingdom of God (including enslavement to themselves
or even, by chance, to the Church) . Christians are by right no
longer slaves of sin, death, and the Law under any form. They
are no longer to be victims of idols that would claim power over
them. They are freed to be themselves before God. Their only
subjection is to God and his will for them (Rm 6: 22); but
God's will for them is that they be free (Gal 5: 13) .
They are therefore no longer determined by the judgments of
human beings upon them. A value is no longer placed upon
their heads insofar as they fulfill the prescriptions of any human
moral or legal code. They are no longer insignificant beings because their talents are not recognized by humans, any more
than they are more worthy human beings because people choose
to place a value upon their talents. In other words, the judgments of human beings no longer have any rightful or determining power upon their lives (1 Cor 4: 1-5; 6: 12) . Christians are
what they are, not on the basis of any human determination
of their status, worth, or import, but on the basis of their being
chosen for membership in the eschatological community of God,
and it is that choice and destination that makes them free for
God and free from any lesser reality that would try to prevent
them from attaining their destiny in God. Thus if there is any
anthropocentric concept that may be said to summarize most
completely the gift of God to human beings, it is the fact that
he has made them free.
Now it is true that Christians are members of the freed community of God not simply for their benefit, but for all mankind.
That fact is not to be ignored, in a total picture of the life of
the Church. Nevertheless, while the " living God " does intend
to be the "savior of all men," he is the savior "especially of
those who believe" (1 Tim 4: 10), and that salvation experi-

25

LIBERATION THEOLOGY

ence is already rightfully and meaningfully shared in a special
way by Christians in their internal life in the Church.
Perhaps the whole matter is best summed up by Avery Dulles
in his Models of the Church. Dulles argues that the Church, by
becoming the " visible expression " of the " actual event of
grace," " achieves itself " the " more widely and intensely the
faithful participate ... in the actions of the Church whereby
men are bound together" in the sacramental life of the Church. 7
The direct "beneficiaries " of the Church's life, then, are " all
those who are better able to articulate and live their faith
thanks to their contact with the believing and loving Church."
It is by the members' life in the Church that " their own spiritual life is sustained, intensified, and channeled in constructive
ways." Yet Dulles also argues that "As believers succeed in
finding appropriate external forms by which to express their
commitment to God in Christ, they become living symbols of
divine love and beacons of hope in the world." 8 While Dulles
argues to some value in each of the models of the Church outlined in his work, he also holds that the sacramental model
"has special merit": "It preserves the community value, for
if the Church were not a communion of love it could not be an
authentic sign of Christ." 9
In other words, it is because the Church so intensely enters
into its own internal life of union with God in community that
it can best hope to carry out its mission activity to the world.
The two aspects of Church life should never be disassociated,
and the one intimately involves the other. But if primacy is
to be placed anywhere, it is upon the building up of the internal
life of the Church in its Spirit-filled communion with God in
Christ. If the Church is going to have anything to proclaim
in its mission to the world, the Church has got first to experience
it. And to bring out the importance of that internal experience
has been the whole point of this article.
MARTIN

R. TRIPOLE, S.J.

Saint Joseph's University
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
7

Dulles, p. 64.

8

Dulles, p. 67.

9

Dulles, pp. 186-87.

KANT ON THE TUTELAGE OF GOD
AND NATURE*

A

y ATTEMPT TO discuss the Kantian philosophy in

terms of the success or failure of specific doctrines,
such as the distinction between phenomena and noumena, is premature unless guided by an understanding of what
Kant refers to as its architectonic-the systematic unity of the
various modes of knowledge expressing a prephilosophical Idea
which serves as the norm for the possibility as well as doctrinal
components of philosophy as metaphysics. As stated by Kant:
By an architectonic I understand the art of constructing systems.
By a system I understand the unity of the manifold modes of
knowledge under one idea. This idea is the concept provided by
reason-of the form of a whole-insofar as the concept determines
a priori not only the scope of its manifold contents, but also the
positions which the parts occupy relatively to one another. 1

Kant's architectonic thus becomes a hermeneutics for judging
the doctrinal components of his metaphysics as they issue from
its Idea. That this Idea is a priori points to its prephilosophical
(i.e., pretheoretical) origin. And the locus of the prephilosophical is the realm of practice. The Kantian Idea thus concerns
the ground of human aotion, for the eros toward metaphysics
springs from the " ultimate aim of reason," which is " no other
than the whole vocation of man, and the philosophy which
deals with it is entitled moral philosophy." 2 Kant's metaphysics is thus a metaphysics of morals since man's moral calling-resting on the two pillars of the categorical imperative
and practical autonomy-is its a priori beginning. It is in this
*For much in this article I am indebted to my former teacher Peter Van Nuis.
Critique of Pure Reason, translated by N. Kemp Smith (New York, 1965),
B860. Hereafter designated "CPuR ". This crucial heuristic is reiterated in the
Preface to the Critique of Practical Reason.
• CPuR, B868.
1

26

KANT ON THE TUTELAGE OF GOD AND NATURE

27

light that we must evaluarte Kant's theoretical assertions, the
most problematic being the duality of phenomena and noumena. For while it is true that Kant's purely philosophical
arguments turn on this distinction, the Kantian architectonic
forces us to recognize that this central bifurcation has its
ground in turn in a practical and not a theoretical obligationthe categorical imperative as the overriding metaphilosophical
norm. This is shown by Kant's analysis of metaphysics as a
natural disposition.
The possibility of philosophy as metaphysics is expressed in
a two-fold manner: a) as a theoretical science and b) as a natural disposition. The former is shown to be impossible since
pure reason desires what it cannot achieve-a science of metaphysics on a par with the sciences of physics and mathematics.
Consequently the question becomes, as in the Prolegomena, " Is
metaphysics possible at all? " since reason encounters antinomies and dialectical illusions when reaching for the Absolute. However, despite constant failure the attempt nonetheless
persists. The possibility of metaphysics thus shifts to its possibility as a natural disposition. That is, we do not ask (as with
physics and mathematics) how metaphysics as an actual science
becomes possible. We ask, given the perpetual frustration, how
metaphysics arises as a natural disposition and in wha:t way
this disposition is to be properly directed. The answer to both
questions is reason's practical employment. The origin and
content of metaphysics is man's eithical nature.
The metaphysical questions-God, freedom and immortality
-are the ethically most significant questions since " these ...
in turn refer us yet ful'lther, namely, to the problem of what we
ought to do, if the will is free, if there is a God and a future
world." 3 What we ought to do, of course, is obey the categorical imperative. The primacy of practical over theoretical reason
is likewise reflected in the ordering of the questions concerning
the three metaphysical issues:
8

Ibid., BS!lS.

WALTER SOFFER

1. What can I know?, which points to absolute first cause.
What ought I to do?, which points to freedom as the
ground of the moral law.
3. What may I hope?, which points to the transcendental
ground of a reconciliation of morality and happiness, the supreme good. 4

The first question (What can I know?), which is "merely
speculative", is answered negatively by the CPuR. Knowledge
is limited to the sensible and its lawfulness since the Absolute
transcends our power to understand. However, since we are
driven at the same time to think the unconditioned we find our
reason in the awkward position of positing thinkable but unknowable objects. But this is precisely the positive function of
the limitation of the understanding, for it permits pure reason
to exceed the bounds of sense without contradiction when
positing noumena. As Kant explains, " though we cannot know
these objects as things in themselves, we must yet be in position at least to think them as things in themselves; otherwise we
should be landed in the absurd conclusion that there can be
appearance without anything that appears." 5 The noumenal
reality of God, freedom and immortality requires and follows
from the curbing of theoretical reason's transcendent pretensions, such that Kant finds it" necessary to deny knowledge, in
order to make room for faith." 6
The answer to the second and central question (What ought
I to do?) is the command to become worthy of happiness by
obeying the moral law whose unconditional validity is a " fact
of pure reason." This Kantian prime directive assumes the
form of a command because in this life morality and happiness
are frequently in tension.
The answer to the third question (What may I hope?) addresses this tension by holding out the hope of a coincidence
between morality and happiness by means of a divine agency.
Ibid., B832-3.
Ibid., Bxxvi.
6 Ibid,. Bxxx.

4

5

KANT ON THE '.IIUTELAGE OE' GOD AND NATURE

This is the function of Kant's moral theology and exposes a
possible tension between the unconditional moral demand as
the answer to question two and the possibly heteronomous
concern £or happiness as the answer to question three. More
generally, this is the problem of explaining human action in
terms of morality and nature.
The aim of metaphysics as a natural disposition is thus to
account £or the categorical demand of the moral law by a doctrine of transcendental freedom and the expectation of happiness proportional to morality by a rational faith in God. At the
same time the purity and dignity of the moral law requires that
metaphysics be free from the tutelage of God or nature, an
anticipation of man's practical autonomy as the Idea animating
Kant's metaphysics. The following examination of this metaphysics is therefore undertaken to estimate whether this dual
tutelage is in fact escaped. The issues to be treated are a) the
dual perspective of freedom and nature as an account of human
action, b) the autonomy of the will, and c) the moral theology
and the supreme good.
Our starting point is what £or Kant is an unconditionally
valid" fact of pure reason "-the moral law:
The moral law is given, as an apodictically certain fact, as it were,
of pure reason, a fact of which we are a priori conscious, even if it
be granted that no example could he found in which it has been
followed exactly. Thus the objective reality of the moral law can
be proved through no deduction, through no exertion of the theoretical, speculative, or empirically supported reason ... Instead of
this vainly sought deduction of the moral principle, however, something entirely different and unexpected appears: the moral principle
itself serves as a principle of the deduction of an inscrutable faculty ... This is the faculty of freedom, which the moral law, itself
needing no justifying grounds, shows to be not only possible but
actual in beings which acknowledge the law as binding upon them.
The moral law is, in fact, a law of causality through freedom and
thus a law of the possibility of a supersensuous nature : .. " 7
7 Critique of Practical Reason, translated
by L. W. Beck (New York, 1956),
pp. 48-9. Hereafter designated "CPrR ".

80

WAtTER SOFFER

The dogmatic (i.e., uncritical) beginning of Kant's metaphysics
is a prephilosophical fact-pure practical reason. From this
fact follow the reciprocal doctrines of the obligatory consciousness of the moral law and freedom as the reality of the noumenal self.
As Kant explains in the Foundations of the Metaphysics of
Morals, the journey to the noumenal commences with the good
will as the mark of practical autonomy. For unlike natural gifts
the use of his will is that for which man is totally responsible.
Since it allows man to transcend the heteronomous aspects of
his nature the autonomy of the will accomplishes both purity of
form and freedom of action. Kant thus declares that the good
will, though not the complete good (which is morality plus
happiness) , is the highest good. Particular goods and talents
are good by qualification, i.e., when used by the good will which
as such is unqualified good. However, since its goodness consists in obeying the moral law, perhaps it too is a qualified or
derivative good. Kant avoids this seeming dependence of the
good will on the moral law by showing that the moral law is a
self-imposition by the good will. The sentiment of respect
mediates between consciousness of and willful subjection to the
moral law. But since such a will, which contemplates the law
and wills it into being out of respect, in so doing is a good will,
the problem of the evil will is a serious difficulty for Kant's
account. To account for the possibility of the evil will the
autonomy of the will must not be constrained by the sentiment
of respect when thinking the moral law, such that both good
and evil become, ex nihilo, existential choices. The will is thus
situated, as Nietzsche says," beyond good and evil". The freedom for evil thus undercuts the " fact " of pure practical reason. This can be avoided by taking the Kantian path of identifying the will with the good will via the spontaneous feeling of
respect for the moral law as conceived, but as the price of
relegating evil to ignorance or the subhuman. In any case, this
is Kant's beginning. And since the law is not imposed upon us
by either God or nature it is absolute.

KANT ON THE TUTELAGE OF GOD AND NATURE

81

To anticipate a problem to be treated below, this same absoluteness and purity of the moral law raises a question about its
possible modus operandi. This is not the frequently mentioned
charge of heteronomy, which I shall try to show is groundless.
It is rather the problem of content. For at this point all we
know about the moral law and the good will is that they are
tied to the notion of a rational being as such. To act under the
moral law is to act under the form of rationality as such, i.e.,
unconditional universality. The categorical imperative is a
formal test whose criteria are universalization and noncontradiction. But the material to be so tested has its source in the
morally heteronomous desire for happiness which supplies the
content (if not the norm) for every candidate maxim. Since
all men as men constitutionally pursue happiness and all men
as rational beings obey a categorical imperative which as such
is neutral to happiness, the universalization of maxims is impossible, i.e., unintelligible, detached from their origin in man
as a natural being. To repeat, the threat here is not heteronomy
but the lack of material for universalization in order to avoid
purity of form coupled with sterility of content. Sacrificing
form to content produces heteronomy, whereas assimilating
content to form equates happiness with morality. Since both
are rejected by Kant he must find a way of informing the categorical imperative with non-heteronomous content, i.e., specific
moral decisions, if not directives.
The Kantian suggestion is that content, i.e., a specific course
of action, follows from the proper form. After all, the formality
of the categorical imperative is precisely what allows it to encompass a multitude of diverse contents. As Kant explains:
There is, therefore, only one categorical imperative. It is: Act only
according to that maxim by which you can at the same time will
that it should become a universal law. 8

From Kant's own point of view the issue concerning the categorical imperative is not whether it can bridge the gap between
form and content but whether such an imperative is in fact
•Ibid., p. 89.

W .ALTER SOFFER

possible. In order philosophically to save morality from the
heteronomy of man's nature we must pass beyond the prephilosophical fact of pure practical reason and provide a transscendental deduction of the categorical imperative as the
expression of a morality adapted to a being who is not as such
purely rational. The key notion is freedom. Whereas our consciousness of the moral law is the ratio cognoscendi of freedom,
freedom is the ratio essendi of the moral law. Freedom grounds
morality by supplying the categorical imperative with a transcendental refuge from the tendency to replace it by nature, thus
rendering the categorical imperative impossible. As Kant explains:
We have finally reduced the definite concept of morality to the
idea of freedom, but we could not prove freedom to be real in ourselves and in human nature. We saw only that we must presuppose
it if we would think of a being as rational and conscious of his
causality with respect to actions, that is, as endowed with a will;
and so we find that on the very same grounds we must ascribe to
each being endowed with reason and will the property of determining himself to action under the idea of freedom. 9

In other words, we get not a deduction but the necessity of
freedom as a presupposition. It is the consequent noumenal
realm which supports freedom as the ratio essendi of the moral
law and the law as the non-illusory ratio cognoscendi of freedom. We can perhaps say that the phenomena-noumena distinction is synonymous with the deduction of the categorical
imperative since it provides the locus of positive freedom as
self-legislation. For "if freedom of the will is presupposed,
morality together with its principle follows from it by the mere
analysis of its concept." 10 The noumenal realm, the realm of
spontaneity and autonomy, is synonymous with the exercise of
pure reason as opposed to the sense-bound understanding.
Since this has been shown by the CPuR it points to the foundations of ethics as the ultimate intent of Kant's theoretical phi•Ibid., p. 67.
10 Ibid., p. 65.

KANT ON THE TUTELAGE OF GOD AND NATURE

33

losophy. The limitation of the understanding establishes the
reality of pure reason. Pure reason as practical gives content
to the noumenal realm as morally necessary though theoretically incomprehensible. The justification for the phenomenanoumena distinction is thus man's practical autonomy, which
we have seen to be the dogmatic core of the Kantian Idea. As
the transcendental ground of the lawfulness of nature (which
implies material alien to man's synthesizing understanding)
and the categorical imperative (which implies material internally recalcitrant to such self-legislation) man himself becomes the initiator and sustainer of the distinction between
appearance and reality. The understanding accomplishes this
negatively via its sense-dependence as the seat of the phenomenality of nature, 11 while the will is the positive path to
the noumena via its transcendental freedom. In both cases it
is the one human reason which is the spontaneous lawgiver (i.e.,
practical agent) establishing the spheres of both nature and
freedom. The philosophical argument for a dualistic metaphysics is paradoxically grounded in the unity of prephilosophical practical reason. 12 If the rationale for positing noumena is
11 As Kant explains, " The doctrine of sensibility is likewise the doctrine of the
noumenon in the negative sense ... the function of which is to curb the pretensions of sensibility; and it is therefore only of negative employment. At the same
time it is no arbitrary invention; it is bound up with the limitation of sensibility,
though it cannot affirm anything positive beyond the field of sensibility." CPuR,
BS07, 311.
12 This point is stated forcefully by Richard Kroner, who writes: "If it is true
that practical reason regulates the life of the will and the realm of moral existence,
is it not possible that theoretical reason (or intellect) regulates the realm of natural
existence, in so far as this realm is regular at all? This indeed is the core of Kant's
famous thesis that the intellect prescribes its laws to nature, and this in turn is the
gist of his transcendental idealism or phenomenalism. This phenomenalism is the
outcome of his ethical subjectivism ... The limitation of nature as the realm of
causal necessity and mathematical order is thus a consequence of moral freedom
and a postulate of moral reason . . . [and] rests upon the sovereignty of reason
over nature, and this sovereignty is the result of ethical subjectivism . . . Kant
interprets the relation between theoretical reason (or understanding) and nature
by analogy to the relation between practical reason and will. The logical forms, i.e.,
the highest principles of the natural order, are conceived as norms, rules, regulative
concepts-all these terms play a decisive role in the Critique of Pure Reason. And

34

WALTER SOFFER

sought exclusively in theoretical reason misunderstandings arise
concerning the apparent absurdity of theoretically insisting on
the existence of theoretically inscrutable beings and claiming
furthermore that such beings are nonphenomenal causes o:f
phenomena. Kant's noumena seem to violate the very injunctions of which he is the author. However, as we have seen (cf.
above, p. 28 and note 11) the issue is not entry into some alien
world but the necessity of noumena via a demonstration of the
derivative and dependent strutus of what confront us as mere
appearances. Echoing the Platonic metaphor from the eikastic
section of the divided line, just as to be an image implies being
an image of something which is itself not an image but an original, to be an appearance implies being an appearance of something which as such does not appear but serves as the nonphenomenal ground. The doctrine of the noumena is thus the
correlative of the derivative status of appearances, such that
both doctrines stand or fall together.
The noumena are therefore theoretically necessary despite
being problematic. We are obligated to assume them but should
resist the temptation to misuse them as causes in the usual
sense as applied to phenomena. The " causal " relation between
noumena and phenomena must not be conceived mechanically
along the inappropriate model of phenomenal causation. Since
the appropriate ontological metaphor is the relation of original
to copy, the proper" causal" relation is that of ground to consequent. N oumena cause phenomena not " physically " but
"originally," as their inner core of spontaneity. That is, phenomena are the way in which the spontaneous, active noumena
must appear in our experience subject as they are to our receptive, passive conditions of sensibility. By affecting our senses
noumena generate in us an experience of themselves as phenomena. There are not two distinct classes of entities; pheall these terms indicate that Kant interprets the operation and function of reason,
even in the theoretical field, along the lines of ethical legislation . . . Reason, be
it practical or theoretical, is legislator in both fields, but the idea of legislation itself
is a practical one." In Kant's W eltanschauung, translation by John E. Smith (Chicago, 1956), pp. 65-8.

KANT ON THE TUTELAGE OF GOD AND NATURE

35

nomena are noumena under subjective conditions of space and
time. Kant's critical idealism is therefore an ontological realism.
As Kant remarks in the Prolegomena:
Things as objects of our senses existing outside us are given, but we
know nothing of what they may be in themselv.es, knowing only
their appearances, that is, the representations which they cause in
us by affecting our senses. Consequently I grant by all means that
there are bodies without us, that is, things which, though quite
unknown to us as to what they are in themselves, we yet know by
the representations which their influence on our sensibility pro·cures us. These representations we call" bodies", a term signifying
merely the appearance of the thing which is unknown to us, but
not therefore less actual. Can this be termed idealism? It is the
very contrary.13

Just as transcendental subjectivity is responsible for the experience of objects, the noumena are responsible for the objects of
experience. The realm of phenomenal causality is thus situated
between two noumenal realms of spontaneity. The efficient
causation between appearances which produce the order of nature is thus an image of the free causation (i.e., spontaneity)
governing the noumenal order.
When applied to man's activity via the spontaneous good
will, Kant's phenomena-noumena division has been shown to
originate in the mandate of the prephilosophical fact of morality. And since his metaphysics as a whole turns on this philosophical distinction, Kant's most profound philosophical
argument becomes incapable of " philosophical " evaluation
without thereby begging the question. The critique of Kant's
metaphysics as a natural disposition must therefore shift from
the critique of pure (theoretical) to pure (practical) reason.
For the distinction between phenomena and noumena which
resolved the dialectic of pure theoretical reason now reveals
itself as a threat to pure practical reason insofar as the autonomy of the will is concerned. The question, to repeat, is twofold-the will's negative freedom from the heteronomous con13 Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics, translated
York, 1950), p. 36.

by L. W. Beck (New

86

WALTER SOFFER

cern with happiness and its positive freedom (i.e., autonomy)
with respect to the content and norm for its action once happiness is suspended. The issue of counter-causal freedom, i.e.,
how noumenal causation can persist when phenomenal causation claims to be a complete account of action, will be dealt
with below in conjunction with Kant's theological postulate.
The bracketing of happiness via the categorical call to the
moral law shows the genuine threat to the will to be a criterion
for meaningful content. We must not confuse the ethical problem with the psychological, which for Kant is a matter of moral
education rather than moral philosophy. Despite the overwhelming instances of human frailty the absolute and unconditional validity of the categorical imperative is never compromised. Moral weakness is not a concession to the claim of
happiness but a proof of the necessarily command character of
duty. Though the categorical imperative, as we have indicated,
is not as such inimical to happiness its absolute validity must
manifest itself in such a way when morality and happiness conflict. Happiness and weakness confirm rather than invalidate
the fact of pure (practical) reason. For this reason the problem
of content emerges once happiness is removed as its ground, at
least as far as any means-end relation is concerned between
morality and happiness. We have already mentioned the impossibility of locating happiness in moral action as such. What
must be done is to join morality and happiness in such a way
as to avoid the heteronomy of morality as a means to happiness
and the obliteration of happiness via its subordination to morality. Morality is to be consistent with rather than for the sake
of happiness, which consistency is grounded not in heteronomy
hut in a moral-rational hope. The problem thus becomes transcendental rather than anthropological. We must therefore disagree with the view of T. M. Greene, who writes:
In short, morality is said to be the concern of a purely autonomous
rational will. Kant's introduction of happiness into his moral
scheme is therefore inconsistent with his own principles, and is
highly detrimental to them. The" Summum Bonum ",with happiness equated with virtue, is indeed said to be merely an ideal of

KANT ON THE TUTELAGE OF GOD AND NATURE

37

reason which must not be made a niotive of action. Yet without
the assurance of its reality reason cannot be practical! 4

It is a mistake to insist that Kant must present his morally
necessary hope as an assured reality without claiming the type
of certainty which Kant expressly denies as desirable or possible. For Kant, such ultimate ignorance safeguards rather
than heteronomously undermines pure practical reason. This
is not the problem. It rather prepares the problem. Because
the will is noumenal (which allows for freedom in the negative)
its positive freedom is contentless and its only norm is noncontradictory universalization. 15 To complement this purely
logical criterion with material upon which to operate flirts with
heteronomy, since if the will requires sensibility for its modus
operandi its autonomy is an illusion. However, its transnatural
status, which remedies the dependence, renders it aimless. Consequently, man's earthly existence must reenter but in such a
way as to steer clear of heteronomy. For this reason the problem is on the transcendental plane since it involves the possible
dialectical use of pure practical reason in accounting for the
possibility of the supreme good-morality consistent with happiness-and in such a way as not to diminish the categorical
14 In "The Historical Context And Religious Significance of Kant's Religion," as
Part I of the Introduction to Kant's Religion Within the Limits of Reason Alone,
translated by T. M. Greene and H. H. Hudson (New York, 1960), pp. !xii-iii.
15 It is significant to observe Kant's tacit admission of the failure of this test,
even when backed up by a maxim rooted in one's happiness. This concerns his
fourth example in the Foundations, p. 41:
A fourth man, for whom things are going well, sees that others
(whom he could help) have to struggle with great hardships, and
he asks, " What concern of mine is it? Let each one be as happy
as heaven wills, or as he can make himself; I will not take anything from him or even envy him; but to his welfare or to his
assistance in time of need I have no desire to contribute." If such
a way of thinking were a universal law of nature, certainly the
human race could exist, and without doubt even better than in
a state where everybody talks of sympathy and good will, or even
exerts himself occasionally to practice them while, on the other
hand, he cheats when he can and betrays or otherwise violates
the rights of man.

.38

WALTER SOFFER

demand of morality. This can be accomplished only by a
harmony (vs. a means-end relation) between freedom and nature. But the comprehension of such a harmony, along with
the split between freedom and nature it is to reconcile, exceeds
the competence of theoretical reason. In the interest of practical reason Kant therefore resorts to a theological postulate.
Whether Kant's theology is an aid or a detriment to the will's
autonomy we will have to see.
Because theoretical reason can demonstrate neither the impossibility nor the actuality of the supreme good coming to be
through natural laws, "reason cannot objectively decide
whether it is by universal laws of nature without a wise Author
presiding over nature or whether only on the assumption of
such an Author." 16 What Kant refers to as the "indecision of
speculative reason" prompts the following solution of the practical dialectic:
Since the promotion of the highest good and thus the presupposition of its possibility are objectively necessary (though only as a
consequence of practical reason), and since the manner in which
we are to think of it as possible is subject to our own choice, in
which a free interest of pure practical reason is decisive for the
assumption of a wise Author of the world, it follows that the principle which here determines our judgment, while subjectively a need,
is the ground of a maxim of moral assent, as a means to promoting
that which is objectively (practically) necessary; that is, it is a
faith of pure practical reason. As a voluntary decision of our judgment to assume that existence and to make it the foundation of
further employment of reason, conducing to the moral (commanded) purpose and agreeing moreover with the theoretical need
of reason, it is itself not commanded. It rather springs from the
moral disposition itself.17

The tutelage of God or nature is thus resolved in favor of God.
If natural laws produce such a harmony the freedom of the will

becomes mere appearance. Consequently we must posit a Creator of a morality-happiness harmony in order for the unconditional moral law to pertain simultaneously to man as a natural
1•

CPrR, p. 151.

11

Ibid.

KANT ON THE TUTELAGE OF GOD AND NATURE

39

being concerned with happiness. God allows morality to be
consistent with happiness without falling prey to the latter's
heteronomy and the freedom of the will from natural causation
is likewise preserved. However, the God who liberates the
will in this way becomes Himself a new threat to its autonomy
since the actualization of happiness consistent with the morally
autonomous worthiness of such happiness seems predetermined
because guaranteed. The only way out of this problem is to
deny that God is the cause of the realm of appearances, which
would still preserve His role as Creator but limit it to noumena.
The human will would cause the realm of moral appearances
just as the understanding generates them in the natural realm.
The Idea behind Kant's architectonic remains intact, since this
is in fact what Kant does. And by so doing he informs us of
the ultimate significance and rationale for his philosophical
argument for a split between phenomena and noumena following from the transcendental ideality of space and time as well
as the limitation of the categories. In the context of explaining
how counter-causal freedom is possible, Kant states:
If I say of beings in the world of sense that they are created, I regard them only as noumena. Just as it would therefore be contradictory to say God is the creator of appearances, it is also a contradiction to say that He, as the Creator, is the cause of actions in
the world of sense, as these are appearances; yet at the same time
He is the cause of the existence of the acting beings (as noumena)
... Such is the importance of the separation of time (as well as
space) from the existence of things-in-themselves, as this was effected in the critique of the pure speculative reason. 18

Kant's transcendental idealism is thus in the service of and
culminates in a theological postulate designed to justify our
hope for the supreme good. However, this hope is undercut
when it is realized that the true ground of this hope is not God
at all but the human will. This is because the realm of appearances (the locus of the harmony of morality and happiness)
18 Ibid., p. 106. Kant claims the same significance for the deduction of the categories on p. 146.

40

WALTER SOFFER

is denied to God's creation (i.e., such a creation strangely
involves a contradiction because the created is synonymous
with the noumenal) in order to preserve freedom. But if the
realm of appearance is detached from the God-created noumena, their phenomenality must rest on that other creator, the
human will. The replacement of God by the human will thus
renders such a correspondence a matter of chance (i.e., history)
rather than a legitimate" rational faith". Though this grounding in willful autonomy conforms ultimately to the Kantian
Idea, this Idea in turn results in transcendental self-deception
once the tutelages of God and Nature are abandoned. For the
forsaking of the cunning of nature and divine providence (the
two agencies capable of guaranteeing such a harmony) produces the transcendental illusion this theology was intended to
overcome since the will as pure practical reason must conform
to the categorical imperative, which as such is neutral to happiness and void of any norm beyond that of noncontradictory
universalization. Purity of form does indeed produce sterility of
content.
WA:LTER SOFFER
State University of New York
Geneseo, New Y <Yrk

ST. THOMAS AND AVICENNA ON THE AGENT
INTELLECT

1]

HREE LANDMARKS divide the history of Aristotelanism. The first was the Neoplatonic transformation of
Aristotle at the hands of Avicenna, so that the Aristotle
received in the Latin Middle Ages was already one garbed in
Neoplatonic dress. The second was the desperate but unsuccessful attempt by Averroes to resolve all the inconsistencies in
the Aristotelian psychology, on purely Aristotelian grounds.
The third landmark was the successful enterprise of St. Thomas
Aquinas to remove these same inconsistencies. The purpose of
this paper is to examine the first and third of these landmarks,
with some references to the second. More precisely, I am concerned here with St. Thomas's attack on Avicenna's notion of
the agent intellect, for it represents-or ought to representthe recognition by Aristotelianism itself that it cannot quite
be Aristotelian without also being some.thing in addition. St.
Thomas's attack on Avicenna drives home the point that a
wider view of man than Aristotle himself was capable of is
called for if all the disparate Aristotelian truths about man are
to be kept. To locate ourselves within the problem of the agent
intellect as it was faced by Avicenna and St. Thomas, we must
first turn briefly to Aristotle himself.
I shall not exaggerate if I say that two chapters in Aristotle's
De Anima have influenced the history of mediaeval philosophical speculation on man more than any one treatise as a whole.
The two Chapters I refer to are the fourth and fifth of Book III.
In those chapters he discusses the " thinking part of the soul "
and the agent intellect. Concerning " the thinking part of the
soul " he says that it must be impassible, in itself a pure potency (like a blank tablet on which nothing is written) capable
of receiving the forms of all things, and hence unmixed with any

41

42

PATRICK LEE

body, i.e., separate from body. 1 This "thinking part of the
soul " was later called the " material intellect " (Avicenna,
Averroes) or the" possible intellect" (St. Thomas).
Next, in the fifth chapter, he infers the existence of an intellect of a different kind-the agent intellect or agent intelligence of St. Thomas and Avicenna-and he makes the following
points. 1) In every class of things, as in nature as a whole,
there are two factors: (a) a matter which is potentially all the
particulars included in the class, (b) a cause which is productive in the sense that it makes them all (the latter standing to
the former as an art to its material) . These two factors must
also be found within the soul. 2) The productive or agent intellect is related to the intelligibles in potency, which it makes
intelligibles in act, as light is related to colors in potency which
it makes colors in act. 3) It is separate (choristos) .2 4) It is
in act by its essence, impassible, immortal and eternal.
1 The thinking power is somewhat like sensing, in that it is related to what is
thinkable just as sense is related to the sensible (429a 12-17). Since everything is
a possible object of thought, mind cannot have a nature of its own (for this would
prevent the reception of another) and hence cannot be mixed with body (429a
10-29) . Observation shows that after a strong stimulation of sense we are less able
to exercise it than before (e.g a very loud sound), whereas thought about an object
highly intelligible renders the mind more and not less capable afterwards of thinking
of less intelligible objects. Hence the faculty of sense is dependent on body, whereas
mind is separate from it (429a 29-403b 4). Mind is directed to what it is to be
water, instead of just water, in other words it is directed to the what-a-thing-is
(429b 10-23). Mind is potentially all things, it is like a blank tablet on which
nothing is written (429b 29-43a 10).
2 The Greek choristos has been variously translated.
In the imperfect edition of
St. Thomas's De Anima, it is translated as separabilis. In the edition of Averroes
that I have (Mediaeval Academy) it is translated as abstractus. In other works
of St. Thomas I have checked (In II Sent., d. 17, q. 2, art. 1 Solut. ed. Mandonnet,
pp. 4Z:il-4Z3; S.C.G., II, 78 Deinde; De Unit. Int., cap. 1, Spiazzi #198; S.T. I, q. 79,
is
a. 5, obj. 1) the translation he uses is always separafos. Separatus or
the correct translation, rather than separabilis, and it was known to all parties concerned. That Aristotle meant that somehow the agent intellect is separate in reality
is clear, because in other places, when it is a question of separate merely in notion,
he specifies this very clearly. Mathematical objects, he takes pains to explain, are
separate in thought (in logo) but not in existence (De An. III, 7, 43lb 12-16). In
some sense the agent intellect is separate in reality. But the question still remains
in what sense he means that it is really separate.

THE AGENT INTELLECT:

THOMAS AND AVICENNA

48

Each one of these propositions seems to follow rigorously
from solid facts about man's intellectual life, combined with the
principles of act and potency. The problems on the agent intellect that interest us here are these. In what way is the agent
intellect in act? In what way is it separate? And, depending on
how these last are answered, how is it related to the human
soul, both functionally and ontologically? Finally, what consequences will the answers have for our view of the unity of man?
Since these problems face any intelligent reader of Aristotle's
De Anima, it is not surprising that they were at the core of
Avicenna's and St. Thomas's speculation on man and man's
intellect. 3
Although a highly original thinker, Avicenna develops his
position on the intellect in the context of Aristotle's De Anima.
In the fifth part of his own Liber De Anima, Avicenna follows
Aristotle in proving the existence of an agent intellect. The
human soul passes from understanding in potency to understanding in act. Since a thing is reduced from potency to act
only by a being already in act, it follows that the soul is reduced from potency to act by an intelligence in act. Hence
there exists an agent intelligence: an intelligence which is of
itself actually intelligent, not like our souls, which are of themselves only potentially intelligent. 4
3 I have not raised here the problems directly concerned with the possible intellect. These have been brilliantly expressed and examined by Professor Anton Pegis
in several places: "St. Thomas and the Unity of Man" in Progress in Philosophy,
ed. J. A. McWilliams (Milwaukee: Bruce Publishing Co .• 1955), pp. 153-173;
"Some Reflections on Summa Contra Gentiles II, 56 " in An Etienne Gilson Tribute,
ed. C. J. O'Neill (Milwaukee: Marquette University Press, 1959), pp. 169-188; At
the Origins. of the Thoniistic Notion of Man (New York: Macmillan Co., 1962). In
this paper I shall approach the same gen.era! problem Dr. Pegis has treated in his
(on the unity and intellectual nature of man), but from a different
angle, that of the agent intellect, using the Avermist problem of the possible intellect
only to throw light upon the conflict between Avicenna and St. Thomas. My debt
to Professor Pegis will be clear throughout.
• " Dicemus quod anima humana prius est intellig.ens in potentia, deinde fit intelligens in effectu. Omne autem quod exit de potentia ad effectum, non exit nisi per
causam quae habet illud in effectu et extrahit ad ilium." Avicenna, Liber De
Anima, V, 5 (ed. Louvain, 1968), p. 126, #29-33. The translations of Avicenna and
St. 'Thomas in this paper, unless otherwise noted, are mine.

44

PATRICK LEE

This seems only a beginning. For we may still ask in what
sense this agent intelligence is in act, and, if he is to remain
faithful to Aristotle, in what sense it is separate. But in fact we
have already gone a long way, and Avicenna has already determined his answers to these questions. Return to Avicenna's
proof for the existence of the agent intelligence: "We say that
the human soul is first intelligent (intelligens) in potency, and
then becomes intelligent (intelligens) in act." 5 The reduction
of potency to act on which he focuses is that of the soul, and
not the reduction of the soul's objects from potency to act.
Aristotle's analogy with light, that it reduces potential colors
to actual colors, focuses on the transition from potency to act
in the objects of the knowing power. Aristotle's analogy would
seem to mean that the agent intellect is needed to reduce the
objects of the intellect from potential intelligibility to actual
intelligibility. Yet Avicenna is speaking of potential intelligens
and then actual intelligens.
Hence for Avicenna to say that this other intellect is in act
is for him to say that it is actually intelligens. In fact, Avicenna
says that it must actually have that which it imparts to the
soul: the soul does not pass from potency to act " except
through a cause which has it [sc. the intelligible form] in act and
releases it to the soul." 6 And he says further that " ... the
cause giving the intelligible form is nothing but the intelligence
in act, which possesses the principles of the abstract intelligible
forms." 7 For Avicenna, the agent intellect is in act in the sense
that it already has what the possible intellect acquires in knowledge, namely intelligible forms. It is as it were a storehouse
or thesaurus of intelligible forms.
Moreover, from this it follows too in precisely what sense the
agent intellect is separate. It must be separate in the sense of a
separate substance totally distinct from our soul. If it were
a part of our soul, then-given that it actually possesses the
"Ibid.
• Lib. de An., V, 5, pp. 126-127, #SS-35.
7 Ibid.

THE AGENT INTELLECT:

THOMAS AND AVICENNA

45

intelligible forms-we would already possess all knowledge, and
would not pass from not-understanding to understanding.
Hence the agent intelligence is a complete, separate substance.
Further, Avicenna's cosmology can precisely locate this being in the scale of separate substances. According to Avicenna's
cosmology all being proceeds by a mediate emanation from one
supreme Necessary Being. The first intelligence proceeds naturally and necessarily from this First Necessary Being. From
the reflection of the first intelligence on the Necessary Being
and on itself there naturally proceeds a second intelligence, the
first outermost sphere, and the governing soul of this sphere.
Through the second intelligence there naturally proceeds a third
intelligence, a second, concentric sphere, and a governing soul
for this sphere. This emanating chain proceeds in the same way,
each intelligence giving rise to a triad beneath it, until we get
to the production o:f the last sphere, the sphere of the Moon,
and the tenth and last intelligence, related to the sub-lunar
world just as the other intelligences are related to their spheres.
Now this last intelligence, Avicenna tells us, is the agent intelligence,8 and it governs our souls just as the higher intelligences
govern their spheres. 9 Hence Avicenna's doctrine of the agent
intellect unites in one stroke his metaphysics, physics and psychology .10 It is nothing less than the tenth and last intelligence
8 Avicenna, Metaphysice& Compendium (Nadjat),
Liber I, Pars 2, Tractatus 1,
C. 1-3 & Tractatus 2, C. 1-3 (ed. N. Carame, Rome, 1926), pp. 66-75, 91-102;
Metaphysica Tr. 9, cap. 4 (St. Bonaventure, N.Y.: Franciscan Institute Press,
1948), pp. 297-305. Cf. B. Zedler, "St. Thomas and Avicenna in the 'De Potentia
Dei,'" Traditio, VI (1948), pp. 110-122.
• Metaphysices Compendium (Nadjat), Liber I, Pars 4, Tractatus 2 (ed. N.
Carame, Rome, 1926), p. 195.
10 The theory of emanation and its connection to psychology has its origin in
Alfarabi, Avicenna's predecessor. Cf. Alfarabi, "Letter Concerning the Intellect,"
in Philosophy in the Middle Ages, ed. Hyman and Walsh (New York: Harper &
Row, 1967), pp. 215-222, and E. Gilson, "Les sources greco-arahes de l'augustinisme
avicennisant," Archives d'.histoire doctrinale et litteraire du moyen age, IV (1929),
pp. 27-38: "On voit deja chez Alfarabi que le probleme de !'intellect n'est qu'un
cas particulier de la physique clans la tradition dont nous etudions le developpement. L'etroitesse du lien qui rattache la cosmologie a Ia theorie de la connaiss1mce
apparait avec plus d'evidence encore dans la doctrine d'Avicenne."

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PATRICK LEE

emanated from the Necessary Being, that acts in us when we
understand.
For Avicenna the agent intellect is in act in the sense of being a thesaurus of intelligible forms. It is separate in the sense
that it is a separate, complete substance. How then is it related
to our souls, which actually do the understanding? Here once
again Avicenna's physics and metaphysics are joined to his
theory of knowledge. For Avicenna, to reduce from potency to
act is simply to impart what one already has. To cause is not
to educe act from potency, but rather to imprint or give an act,
already possessed by the cause, to the effect. Now sub-lunar
beings do not cause, says Avicenna, but they only prepare for
the cause, which is itself outside natural beings.11 Thus, the
production of any form whatsoever requires that a separate
substance imprint that form upon prepared material.
The situation of man's intellectual knowledge is but an instance of this more general pattern. The agent intelligence
reduces man's possible intellect from potency to act simply by
conferring the abstract form on his intellect, and to receive the
form thus without matter and material conditions is for the soul
to understand. 12 Hence human knowing is just another instance
of the agent intelligence governing and ministering to its sublunar subjects.
An immediate problem and Avicenna's answer to it are of
interest to us here. Given that the agent intelligence is always
in act, and the possible intellect always in potency to it, why
is it that man does not always understand? To this Avicenna
replies that the soul of man must not only be in potency, but
it must also be disposed to receive the influence of the agent
intelligence. Just as matter receives a new form only when it
is sufficiently disposed-and this is the work of sub-lunar
" agents "-in the same way the soul of man must be disposed
11 Avicenna, Sufficientia, Lib. I, cap. 10 (Venetiis, 1508). f. 105 v, cited by E.
Gilson in "Pourquoi Saint Thomas a critique Saint Augustin," Archives d'histoire
doctrinale et litteraire du moyen age, 1 (1926), p. 40. Cf.: Liber De An., V, 4,
p. 117, #93-98.
10 Liber De An., V, 5, p. 144, #66-73.

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to receive the abstract form. Man's intellect is of itself merely
in potency to the forms of its objects. But man also possesses
an imagination, which conserves the concrete sense images of
things, and a cogitative power, which can compare, combine
and divide those images. Now the actual consideration, examination or comparison of these sense images (an operation
of the cogitative power) disposes the soul to receive the influence of the agent intelligence: " ... from the consideration of
singulars the soul is made apt so that the abstraction emanates
into it from the agent intelligence." 13 Thus, understanding is
nothing but an emanation from the separate agent intelligence.14 The agent intelligence is itself always in act, constantly diffusing forms, but its effects only come about when
subjects become apt to receive them. Moreover, diversity of
forms is due to the diverse preparations of its subjects. The
abstract forms constantly emanate from the agent intelligence,
and they are necessarily received by our intellect each time it
is suitably disposed. 15
Avicenna takes over as his own the classification of the different states of man's intellect that had become traditional for
the commentators on Aristotle. 16 Man's intellect can be related
to the intelligibles in various ways, according to the disposition
it has toward them. At first it is in absolute potentiality, i.e. in
pure potency with respect to the intelligibles. Avicenna calls
this state of the intellect potentia absoluta materialis, since it
is like prime matter in its relation to individual forms. The
same intellect can be considered as having received the first
intelligibles, the first principles, which it can then use as instruments for acquiring new knowledge, and this state of the intellect Avicenna calls the intellectus in potentia facili seu in telLib. De An., V, 5, p. 127, #39-50.
Cf.: "Ainsi, dans la doctrine d'Avicenne, tout intelligible est regu du dehors et
toute abstraction est une emanation . . . ." (Gilson, " Les sources greco-arabes'
13
14

p. 65).
15
16

Ibid.
For the development of this tradition, see Gilson, "Les sources greco-arabes,"

pp. 5-38.

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PATRICK ;LEE

lectus in effectu (in effectu, in act, in relation to the first state
of the intellect). And finally, the intellect can be considered in
the state of having a perfected aptitude, such that the intellect
can exercise its act at will, analogous to the scribe's skill in
writing, who knows how to write and can write whenever he
wants. This intellect, or state of the intellect, can be considered
under two aspects. First, as having the aptitude to acquire
knowledge at will, it is called the intellectus in habitu. Second,
considered as being turned toward the intelligibles, and actually considering them, it is the intellectus acleptus seu accommodatus. The word " accommodatus" reminds us that it is
conferred on the soul from outside it by the separate agent
intelligence. 17 In fact, the intellectus adeptus seu accommodatus
is simply the intelligible forms themselves, as they are conferred on the soul of man.
Now, what is important for our question here is how Avicenna interprets this classification in the light of his doctrine
on the agent intelligence. At first glance it may appear that
these levels of intellect are various degrees by which the intelligible forms inhere in or are retained by the soul, the higher
levels being mid-way points between the potential and the
actual presence of intelligible forms. But this is not Avicenna's
meaning: "Now if anyone has said that this knowledge [sc. in
habitu] is in potency but a potency near to the actual, this is
false." 18
How then are we to interpret Avicenna on the various levels
of the intellect? That is, in what sense does the material intellect di:ffer from the intellect in potentia facili, and how do they
from the intellect in habitu? How does the intellect
change when it learns? Avicenna's answer points up the degree
to which man's intellectual life is a heavenly affair, almost
totally unconnected with earthly or sub-lunar agents and causal
efficacy. Rather than different degrees of the presence of forms
in the intellect, these levels of intellect refer to degrees of apti17

1•

Lib. De An., I, 5. Cf. Gilson, "Les sources greco-arabes," pp. 58-74.
Lib. De An., V, 6, p. 141,

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49

tude for union with the separate agent intelligence: " It remains
that the last part is true, and that to learn is nothing but to
acquire a perfect aptitude of joining oneself to the agent intelligence." 19 The various levels of the intellect, and hence the
various levels of learning, are nothing other than aptitudes to
be united to the separate agent intelligence. And the highest
level of such an aptitude Avicenna calls the virtus sancta, the
aptitude of the prophet. Finally, the end and felicity of man
consists in being liberated from the body, so as to be united
perfectly with the agent intelligence: "Now when the soul will
be liberated from the body and from the accidents of the body,
then it will be capable of being united to the agent intelligence
and then it will arrive at that intelligible beauty and perennial
joy .... " 20
Knowledge, whether actual or habitual, is essentially a contact with the higher, intelligible realm. And this means that
intelligibility in its proper sense lies only in a transcendent
realm. To reach intelligibility is to turn away from the material
world: science consists in an aptitude for such a retreat, and
beatitude consists in the final retreat. (Note, too, that this is
Avicenna's answer to the cluster of p:mblems found in the
Aristotelian psychology.)
Such a doctrine on human knowledge carries with it inevitably a certain doctrine on the human soul. If intelligibility
lies only in a transcendent realm, if intelligibility is acquired
only by a retreat away from matter, then the human soul,
whose distinguishing mark is its ability to understand, cannot
in the strict sense be a terrestrial being. That is to say, if intelligibility lies only in a transcendent realm, then the human
soul's involvement with matter cannot really be essential to it.
Such indeed is the doctrine of Avicenna on the human soul.
As he explains through his famous " flying man " argument,
a man suspended in a vacuum, hearing nothing, touching
nothing, in short not even knowing whether he has a body or
not, can yet know that he exists and that he is essentially a
10
20

Lib. De An., V, 6, pp. 148-149, #40-45, p. 150, #63-67.
Ibid., V, 5, p. 150, #71-75.

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PATRICK LEE

soul. 21 Hence man is essentially a soul, and the soul is essentially a spiritual substance. That it perfects the body, that it is
the entelechy of a physical, organic body, does not define its
essence, but only describes one of the things it does. 22 In its essence it is a spiritual substance, and this spiritual substance is
the man.
To the question, why then is the soul united to the body?
Avicenna answers that they are united both for the sake of the
body and for the sake of the soul.23 But the body helps the soul
only to get its first principles. The body helps the soul only to
get started-after that, the body becomes purely a burden:
"Now the human soul is helped by the body to acquire principles of opining (e;onsentiendi) and understanding; then, when
it has acquired these, it will return to itself . ... " 24 To repeat,
such a doctrine on the soul is the natural consequence of a
doctrine on the intellect where knowledge is simply an emanation from a separate spiritual realm.
Moreover, the implication for cosmology is also clear: the
material world-the world in which the body-soul composite
would live, if there were such a true composite-has no inherent
intelligibility; and that is why what intelligibility the soul acquires must be poured into it from above. As we can see
already, the doctrine of Avicenna, although Aristotelian in
language and inspiration, turns out to be more Neoplatonic in
broad structure.
Yet, to appreciate the significance of Avicenna it is important to note that his Neoplatonism arises not because he added
Neoplatonic elements to Aristotelian ones, nor even because he
disguised Neoplatonic views in Aristotelian language. Rather,
it would be more accurate to say-and in this I think his true
significance lies-that his very Aristotelianism slides back imperceptibly, and by its own momentum, into a Platonic view of
man. Maintaining and emphasizing truths that are authenIbid., V, 7.
Ibid., I, 1, pp. 15-16, #78-80.
••Ibid., V, 8.
••Ibid., V, 3, p. 104, #22-24, p. 105, #33-36.
21
2•

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tically Aristotelian, he finds himself slipping away-almost
inevitably-from other truths equally Aristotelian. The actuality and separateness of the agent intellect, the equation of
intelligibility with immateriality-these are Aristotelian propositions clung to tenaciously by Avicenna. Yet, he can do so
only by sacrificing other equally Aristotelian truths, such as,
that body and soul are essentially parts of a composite and thus
by their natures belong together.
The problems that drove Avicenna to what is in truth a
Platonic view of man were of keen significance to St. Thomas
Aquinas. His own position was in part an answer to them. Yet
to see these problems as St. Thomas did, we must see them as
one horn of a dilemma whose other end was the difficulties in
Averroes's position. In the eyes of St. Thomas, Avicenna was
driven to " Platonize " man, in order to ensure the spirituality
of the intellect; Averroes, on the other hand, was driven to
place the intellect outside man, in order to keep man Aristotelian. Thus, to criticize Avicenna without" de-intellectualizing"
man, St. Thomas had to show two things: first, against the
presumptions of Avicenna, how a spiritual intellect could truly
receive its intellectual knowledge from material things, i.e., how
an intellect could be spiritual but with ,an intellectual life essentially involved with material things; second, this time with
Averroes in mind, he had to show how, once man was made
Aristotelian again, he could still keep his intellect, i.e., how an
intellectual substance could also be the form of a body. Now
what interests us here is that precisely the same doctrine on
man's intellect answers both problems at once.
St. Thomas wastes no time in going to the heart of Avicenna's
doctrine. In the Summa Contira Gentiles, after summarizing
Avicenna's position, he accuses him of" Platonizing," and worse
still, of" Platonizing" inconsistently. 25 The upshot of Avicenna's position, says St. Thomas, is that material things in no
real way cause our knowledge; they may be the occasion for our
knowledge, but in Avicenna's position, just as in Plato's, the
••St. Thomas, S.C.G., II, 74.

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PATRICK ;LEE

real cause of our knowledge is separate. The only difference
between Plato and Avicenna on this point is that for Plato the
separate substances causing our knowledge are many, for
Avicenna, one. 26
Since Avicenna's position is at bottom no different from Plato's (although not consistently carried out), it follows that the
same fact tells against them both: it is a disproof of their positions simply to observe that, " a person who lacks one sense
lacks, also, the knowledge of those sensible things which are
known through that sense." 27 Moreover, it is inconsistent for
Avicenna to say that a movement toward what is lower, the
consideration of phantasms, could dispose us to receive from
what is higher, the emanation from the agent intelligence.
Hence Plato followed out his root-principle more consistently,
by denying that considering the sensibles could dispose us to
understand. Thus Avicenna erred both in his root-principle
and in following out that principle. 28
If Avicenna's position were true, argues St. Thomas, then a
man blind from birth could possibly acquire knowledge of
colors, simply by imagining sounds. For, if conversion to the
agent intelligence were the essence of knowledge, then the content of the phantasm would not be essentially related to the
content of understanding, and so a phantasm of one thing
could be the occasion for knowledge of a thing quite different.
But this is against the facts. Hence that a man blind from birth
cannot acquire proper knowledge of colors shows that knowledge is formally caused and specified not by something separate,
but by the phantasms themselves. 29
Moreover, we know that when the corporeal organs of sense
powers are injured (as when the organ for imagination or
memory is injured), so that a man cannot produce or retain
phantasms, the man is prevented from understanding not only
Ibid.
Ibid., trans. J. Anderson (New York: Doubleday, 1956). All translations of
S.C.G. are by James Anderson, from the edition noted.
2 • Ibid.
29 Q. De Anima, 15c.
2'

27

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58

new things, but also things he has understood in the past. 30 So,
phantasms are related to understanding as providing it its
proper object:
And therefore we must say otherwise, that the sensitive powers are
necessary for the soul to understand, not per accidens as only stimulating it, which Plato held, nor only as disposing it, which Avicenna
held, but as representing to the intellective soul its proper object,
as the Philosopher says in III de Anima. 31

From all this, reasons St. Thomas, it follows that Avicenna's
notion of the agent intellect is mistaken. The agent intellect is
not in act in the sense of being actually intelligens, but it is in
act only in the sense of being actually immaterial, so that it can
dematerialize the species in the phantasm. The determination
or specification of knowledge is provided by the phantasm
(which is itself the presentation of the material thing); and so
the agent intellect is actual only in the order of exercise:
... the intellective soul is indeed actually immaterial, but it is in
potency to the determinate species of things. Conversely, the
phantasms are indeed actually the similitude of the species of certain things, but they are potential immaterials. 32

The agent intellect is not a separate substance infusing intelligible forms into our intellects; it is not a thesaurus of forms
whence we acquire the content of our knowledge. The content
of our knowledge is provided by the phantasms, and the agent
intellect abstracts intelligible species from the phantasms, since
the phantasms, being of the material order, cannot directly act
on the potential intellect. 33 Thus the agent intellect is precisely
that power which as it were illumines material things so they
can act on or determine the possible intellect.
so Ibid.; Cf. S.T., I, q. 84, a.
31

7c.

Q. De Anima, 15c. Cf. In Boet. de Trin., q. 6, a. 2c; De Ver., q. 2, a. 6c.

39 S.T., I, 79, 4, ad 4; Cf. In II Sent., d. 17, q. 2, a. 1, Solut; De Spiritualibus
Creaturis, 10 c. et ad 4; Q. De Anima, 5c, et ad 2, ad 3, ad 6, ad 9; S.C.G., II, 77;
S.C.G., II, 76 adhuc.
88 " Intellectum vero posuit Aristoteles habere operationem absque communicatione corporis. Nihil autem corporeum imprimere potest in rem incorpoream. Et
ideo ad cau.sandam intellectualem operationem, secundum Aristotelem, non stiffidt
sol3 impres,sio sensibili1rni corpomm, sed requiritur aliquid nobilius, quia agens·

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PATRICK LEE

Since the agent intellect is not actual in the order of formal
causality or determination, St. Thomas is not forced to place
it outside the human soul. If it were actual in the sense of already possessing the forms acquired by the possible intellect in
knowledge, then, as Avicenna rightly saw, it would have to be
separate from man's soul, the soul being potential with respect
to intelligible forms. So, nothing prevents St. Thomas from
saying that it is a power within man's soul.
But to prove that the agent intellect need not be separate
from man's soul is not the same as to prove that it is not. St.
Thomas wants to show that Avicenna is wrong not only about
the function of the agent intellect but also about its location.
As we have seen, Avicenna's doctrine on the causality of the
agent intelligence is but an application of his general view on
causality. According to Avicenna, to cause is not to educe the
form from the potency of matter, but simply to impart or imprint a form already possessed by the cause, to the effect.
Hence the production of any form whatsoever, according to
Avicenna, requires that a separate substance imprint the form
upon prepared material. The agent intelligence makes corporeal things exist by conferring forms upon prepared matter;
it makes knowledge exist by conferring forms upon prepared
souls. On this view the natural agent, whether in corporeal
things or in knowledge, does nothing more than dispo se matter
to receive the form by an infusion from a separate substance.
All efficacy, as well as all intelligibility, lie in the super-terrestrial order. Fundamentally irrational and unintelligible, matter
is given a semblance of order when forms are ingrafted upon it;
it remains, however, in its essence outside that order. The situation of man's soul is analogous. In line with his general cosmology, the intelligibility for man's knowledge is received from
above.
1

honorabilius patiente, ut ipse dicit [De An. Ill, 4]. Non tamen ita quod intellectualis
operatio causetur in nobis ex sola impressione aliquarum rerum superiorum, ut
Plato posuit: sed illud superius et nobilius agens quod vocat intellectum agentem ...
facit phantasmata a sensibus accepta intelligibilia in actu, per modum abstractionis
cuiusdam. Secundum hoc ergo, ex parte phantasmatum intellectualis operatio sensu
causatur." (S.T., I, 84, 6c) Cf. Quodl. VIII, Sc.

THE AGENT INTELLECT:

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55

As Gilson has noted, St. Thomas refutes both Avicenna's
cosmology and his epistemology in one stroke, by attacking
the foundation of both. 34 On matter and form, St. Thomas
argues that the production of a thing does not arise solely
through the infusion of form. That which is made is neither
form nor matter, but the composite. And since the thing made
resembles the maker, it follows that the maker must also be a
composite, and not a form without matter, that is, not a separate substance. Hence the generator is a composite, and the
form is that by which it generates, and not that which generates: thi,s flesh is engendered through a form in this flesh and
these bones, and not by a separate form.a5 Natural agents not
only dispose matter, but also educe forms into actual existence.
The conclusion: in nature as a whole, besides superior, universal
causes at work, there are also particular causes, active in respect
to definite effects.
When we apply this conclusion to the present question, it
follows that in a production of knowledge there is a particular
active principle. Hence there is not only a universal active
principle of man's knowledge, but within the particular man
there is a particular active principle: the particular man possesses in his soul an agent intellect.
Again, St. Thomas insists that the agent intellect is a part of
the soul, because without it man would in effect be an intellectual cripple. The proper operation of man is to understand: if
the principle by which this act comes about is not in man, then
man is a monstrosity: natura esset frustra. Man would be less
an agent in the world than something acted upon.as Every act
of understanding would be a miracle. 87 And, worse yet, God's
work-and man supposedly is the noblest creature of the terrestrial world-would be deficient in the extreme.as All these
Gilson, " Pourquoi St. Thomas," p. 44.
De Pot., VI, 6c.; S.C.G., II, 76, Amplius. Cf. B. Zedler, "St. Thomas and
Avicenna in the 'De Potentia Dei,'" pp. 123-125.
•• S.C.G., II, 76.
87 Ibid.
38 S.C.G., III, 69, Amplius. St. Thomas is, in general, against any inclination to
detract from the efficacy of secondary causes, even if for the sake of extolling the
34
35

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PATRICK LEE

reasons lead to the same conclusion: the agent intellect is a
power in man's soul.
To these reasons, which would be sufficient of themselves, St.
Thomas adds direct experience. We experience ourselves abistracting universals from particulars: " And it is clear from
experience that this is true; for one particular man, such as
Socrates or Plato, makes things intelligible in act when he
pleases, that is, by apprehending a universal form from particulars, when he separates that which is common to all individual men from those things which are peculiar to each." 39
That the agent intellect is a power in man's soul, St. Thomas
argues, is verified both by reason and by experience.
Hence for St. Thomas the agent intellect is in act by its essence and separate, but not in act and separate in Avicenna's
senses. It is essentially in act in that it is actually immaterial
and actual in the order of exercise; it is separate in the sense
that the intellectual soul acts independently of matter, and
hence possesses its existence per se (its existence being communicated to the body so that body and soul exist by the same
act of existence and so together constitute one substance), not
in the sense of being a complete, separate substance.
St. Thomas's attack on Avicenna's notion of the agent intellect, combined with his rejection of Averroes's position (on the
possible intellect), defines his position as truly unique in the
history of Aristotelianism. To the " Aristotelianizing" theologians before St. Thomas, the feat seemed impossible: so far
efficacy of spiritual substances and God: "Perfectio effectus demonstrat perfectionem causae: maior enim virtus perfectiorem effectum inducit. Deus autem est
perfectissimus agens. Oportet igitur quad res ab ipso creatae perfectionem ab ipso
consequantur. Detrahere ergo perfectionem creaturarum est detrahere perfectioni
virtutis." In short, St. Thomas stands on its head the "theologist" inclination.
39 De Spir. Great., lOc., trans. by M. Fitzpatrick
and J. Wellmuth (Milwaukee:
Marquette U. Press, l!J49); Cf.: " ... homo enim abstrahit a phantasmatibus, et
recipit mente intelligibilia in actu; non enim aliter in notitiam harum actionum
venissemus nisi eas in nobis experiremur" (S.C.G., 11, 76); "Et hoc experimento
cognoscimus, dum percipimus nos abstrahere formas universales a conditionibus
particularibus, quod est facere actu intelligibilia" (S.T., I, 79, 4c.); "Utramque
autem harum operationum experimur in nobis ipsis, nam et nos intelligibilia recipimus et abstrahimus ea" (Q. De An., 5e).

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as they could see, to reject Averroes was, if not to embrace, at
least to approach Avicenna. 40
By saying that the agent intellect's function is to illumine
species contained in phantasms, rather than to infuse an intelligible form into man's soul, St. Thomas has involved man's
intellect essentially with material things. The intellect, though
spiritual, is both operationally and entitatively united to a
body.
To appreciate the implications of St. Thomrus's move on the
agent intellect, we must view it in relation to Averroes as well
as Avicenna. Against Averroes St. Thomas argued that the
possible intellect is a power of man's soul. It is the individual
man that unde11stands, a Socrates or a Plato. But the possible
intellect is precisely that power which receives intelligible
species and by which man understands. Hence each man must
have a possible intellect. 41
By this alone, no problems are yet caused for an Avicennian
or Platonic notion of man. Yet, add to this that the agent
intellect as well as the possible intellect is a power in man's
soul, and the paradox of man appears in full force. For to place
the agent intellect together with the possible intellect into
man's soul is to say at once that man is spiritual and that his
spiritual life is nurtured by material things. If the agent intellect is in man, then its function must be to illumine the very
material things in the world in which man-body and soullives. (Otherwise, if its actuality were of formal causality man
would already know all that he would know.)
Still, it may seem that St. Thomas has not really stepped
beyond Avicenna and Averroes, considering their doctrines together. With Avicenna, he has said that the possible intellect
is of man; with Averroes, he has said that the agent intellect's
role is to abstract species from phantasms. What matter, we
may ask, if he also says that the agent intellect is of man? But
precisely here is the decisive step. For, when St. Thomas lo40 I refer here to the "Avicennizing Augustinians," such as St. Albert the Great,
whom Gilson discusses in " Les sources greco-arabes," passim.
41 S.T., I, 76, le.

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PATRICK LEE

cates the agent intellect in man, together with the possible
intellect, although it appears that he still merely repeats Averroes concerning its function, he has in £act transformed it into
a power almost totally different in function and significance.
Although for Averroes as well as for St. Thomas the agent
intellect abstracts intelligible species from phantasms, nevertheles.s the Averroist intelligible species are quite different from
St. Thomas's. What the Averroist agent intellect abstracts is
just the form; matter-and not just individuated matter, but
also common matter-is extraneous to what the Averroist agent
intellect abstracts. That which is intelligible is only form-so
much so, that if we want to define a natural thing, we have to
add common matter to our conception. 42 In other words, the
Averroist agent intellect merely gleans the forms from the
matter-form composites (by means of man's phantasms). It is
a super-terrestrial being, and its involvement with matter is
only to select eternal species out from it.
When St. Thomas places the agent intellect within man's
soul, however, at the same time he radicalizes its function. The
Thomistic agent intellect is not a power that merely snatches
forms away from matter. St. Thomas insists that the intelligible species abstracted by the agent intellect i:s not the form
alone, but the essence of the thing, and matter is of the essence
of the things we know. So, the intellect abstracts from individuated sensible matter, but not always from common sensible
matter. The species of man, for example, includes common
matter, flesh and bones, abstracting from this flesh and these
bones. 43 Hence for St. Thomas matter does not lie outside
intelligibility.
To say then that the agent intellect's function is to abstract
intelligible species from phantasms, and that the possible intellect is a power of man's soul, is to say that man's intellect
is fed by material things. But for St. Thomas it is to say still
42 Averroes, In VII Meta. t. c. 84 (Venice, 1574), fol. 184-D-G, cited in A. Maurer,
"Form and Essence in the Philosophy of St. Thomas," Mediaeval Studies, 1951,
p. 166.
•• S.T., I, 85, 1, ad !l.

THE AGENT INTELLECT:

THOMAS AND AVICENNA

59

more. It is to say that man's spiritual intellect is nurtured by
material things, in their very materiality. Man's intellect is
geared not just toward the forms of things-as though it were
to snatch them away from the irrational forces of matter, as is
the case with Avicenna and Averroes-,but his intellect is
geared toward material things as they are, to knowing the very
flesh and bones of man, for example.
Of course, man's intellect cannot by itself grasp material
things in their very materiality. Yet his intellect is still geared
toward material things in their materiality, i.e., just as they
are. And that is why his intellect is united to a body. The
proper object of man's intellect is the essence of material
things. But it is proper to material essences to exist in individuals: it is of the nature of stone, for example, to exist in this
or that stone. Now, since man's intellect is proportioned to
knowing material things, and since it can't know them as they
are unless it knows them as existing in particulars, it follows
that to know its proper object the intellect must reflect back
on sense images (phantasms), so as to see the universal nature
in the particular existent. 44
To say the least, all this would be a stumbling block to the
Greeks and foolishness to the Arabs. For, as Professor Anton
Pegis pointed out, "Plato, Aristotle and Plotinus [and let us
add Avicenna and Averroes] make matter to enter as an extraneous cause into the intelligible structure of reality." 45 The
Platonic Forms, the Aristotelian Species and Plotinian
Thought-Essences (Avicenna following Plotinus here, and
Averroes, Aristotle) constitute the sole intelligibility and order
of the world, so that the order of the world is a compromise
with the irrational forces of matter. 46 That is why both the
Avicennian intellect and the Averroist intellect are concerned
only with form, and both their intellects operate only by a
retreat away from matter.
S.T., I, 84, 7c.
A. Pegis, "Matter, Beatitude and Liberty," The Maritain Volume of the
Thomist, V (1943), p. 265.
•• Ibid., p. 266.
44

45

60

PATRICK LEE

The world of St. Thomas, however, is intelligible even in
its imperfections. The intellect is geared to being-and not
just toward form-and even matter is intelligible because it
participates in being. 47 That is why for St. Thomas to approach
inteUigibility is not to retreat from matter, and that is why an
intellect whose abode is the material world is not an enigma or
tragedy. In sum, placing the agent intellect within man leads
St. Thomas to say that intellect feeds on being, not just form.
And correlatively, this means that material things in their very
materiality-this stick, that stone and that piece of mudhave a share in intelligibility and order. By placing the agent
intellect in man, St. Thomas has exalted the humble.
Oddly enough, only in this way can we retain all the Aristotelian insights about man. That man is a matter-form composite-neither the matter nor the form being complete in
itself-was Aristotle's great advance in psychology. That man
also has operations transcending matter Aristotle insisted upon
in those extremely ambiguous texts of Die Anima III, 4 and 5.
These truths could only be held together if, first, it was explained how an intellectual substance could also be the form of
a body, and second, it was insisted that in his very intellectuality man was involved with material things precisely as they
are. To accomplish these tasks was to go beyond Aristotle, in
order to retain characteristically Aristotelian truths.
And that is what St. Thomas did. The first point has been
not only ably, but also brilliantly, explained by the late Professor Anton C. Pegis. Briefly, man's form is an intellectual
substance, since it acts independently (in understanding and
willing) of a corporeal organ, i.e., acts per se. Since a thing acts
as it is, it follows that the soul exists per se, i.e., it possesses its
own act of existing. This is what it means to subsist, or to be a
substance. Since man has other operations which are performed
• 7 True, the human intellect does not understand matter directly, but that is due
to its weakness, not to its strength. God understands material things directly by
causing them to be, since His knowledge is His causality; and angels understand
material things in their very singularity through receiving intelligible species from
God. See S.T., I, 57,

THlil AGENT INTELLECT:

THOMAS ANb AVICENNA

61

by the form in conjunction with matter, and since it is the same
man that understands and performs these composite acts, it
follows also that body and soul together constitute one being.
Add these truths together, and the conclusion is that the soul's
eX'istence is communicated to the body. The soul possesses its
own act of existing, hence the soul is subsistent, i.e. a substance;
but it communicates its existence to the body, hence body and
soul together constitute one complete substance, related as
matter and form. Therefore the soul of man is both an intellectual substance and the form of a hody. 48
Second, and this is the point I have explored here, insofar as
man's soul is intellectual, its being is spiritual, i.e., its being
transcends the body. But man's immaterial cognition itself is
received from material things, not as gleaning only the forms
from the things, but as geared toward the very being of these
material things, all this made possible by the illumination of the
agent intellect. 49 Two consequences: first, man is essentially an
intellectual substance, whose intellectuality is nurtured by
material things themselves, explaining thereby the soul's union
with the body; 50 second, matter is allowed entrance into the
intelligibility and order of the universe. Thus did St. Thomas's
" Aristotelianism " move him beyond Aristotle and his commentators.
PATRICK LEE
St. Francis de Sales College
Milwaukee, Wisconsin

•• Q. De Anima, I; S.T., I, 75, 2, et 4; 76, 1, 5.
•• Sic igitur ex operatione animae humanae modus esse ipsius cognosci potest. In
quantum enim habet operationem, materialia transcendentem, esse suum est supra
corpus elevatum, non dependens ex ipoo. In quantum vero immaterialem cognitionem ex materiali est nata acquirere, manifestum est quod complementum suae
speciei esse non potest absque corporis unione. Non enim aliquid est completum in
specie nisi habeat ea quae requiruntur ad propriam operationem ipsius speciei. Sic
igitur anima humana in quantum unitur corpori ut forma etiam habet esse elevatum
supra corpus, non dependens ab eo, manifestum est quod ipsa est in confinio corporalium et separatarum substantiarum constituta. (Q. De Anima, le.)
50 Why man's intellect should be nurtured by material things is explained by its
status of being the lowest of intellectual substances, of itself a pure potency in the
order of intentional being. See Q. De An., le.

TIME AND RELATIVITY: SOME PHILOSOPHICAL
CONSIDERATIONS

N

OT ONLY WAS Newton an outstanding mathematician, he was also an astute physicist who clearly saw
the difficulties of formulating a solid foundation for
the laws of motion. To resolve these difficulties he postulated
the existence of absolute time and absolute space-concepts
upon which his entire theory of physics rests. 1 Not until the
second half of the 19th century, when the principles of electrodynamics became known, was his theory shaken. Plainly, the
laws of electrodynamics could not be incorporated satisfactorily
into the Newtonian system. Further criticism of the Newtonian world by Mach and Poincare helped open the door to a new
concept of mechanics, and through Einstein's publication in
1905 a new vision of the universe emerged-the special theory
of relativity.
Relativity establishes a new system of definitions for the
reckoning of space and time. Since definitions of physical
theories are of course arbitrary, a variety of definitions may
give rise to various systems which represent equivalent descriptions of the same physical reality. 2 For example, the same
physical space can be described by several geometries resulting
simply from a change in the definition of congruence. " All
these descriptions," Reichenbach says, " represent different
languages saying the same thing; equivalent descriptions therefore express the same physical content. The theory of equivalent description is also applicable to other :fields of physics; but
1 Sir Isaac Newton, Mathematical Principles (Berkeley, 1960), trans., F. Cajori.
For the concepts of absolute space and absolute time see: pp. 6-8. Cf. Albert Einstein, Essays in Science (New York, 1934), trans., Alan Harris, p. 34.
2 Hans Reichenbach,"
The Philosophical Significance of the Theory of Relativity",
in Albert Einstein: Philosopher-Scientist (New York, 1951), edited by Paul A.
Schilpp, pp.
ff.

62

TIME AND RELATIVITY

68

the domain of space and time has become the model case of this
theory." 3
Since different definitions for the description of the same
physical reality are possible, this paper will first analyze the
definitions and concepts concerning time in Einstein's theory of
special relativity. Second, these definitions and concepts will
be compared with the philosophical definitions and descriptions
of the same physical reality, namely time, in the thought of
Aristotle and Aquinas.

Relativity Theory and Objective Time
Einstein's concept of time poses an important philosophical
problem. Before relativity, it had always been assumed that
the statements of time had an absolute ·significance; that is, the
uniform flow of time was independent of the state of motion of
the body of reference. This assumption seems to be incompatible with the relativistic idea of simultaneity, for, as Einstein
illustrates, the time of a coordinate system is different from the
time of any other coordinate system imparted with different
velocity: " Every reference-body (coordinate system) has its
own particular time; unless we are told the reference-body to
which the statement refers, there is no meaning in the statement of the time of an event." 4
Thus, an observer in motion may have a:s many clocks as
there are different bodies in motion with respect to the observer. Which is the clock which corresponds to our planet?
There is no such clock-but there ought to be one with respect
to the sun, another for those who look at the moon, and so
· forth. This seems to destroy the possibility of something we
have always taken for granted: the existence of an objective
and universal time, valid for all coordinate systems. Bachelard
describes the problem in vivid terms:
This operational definition of simultaneity dissolves the notion of
absolute time. Since simultaneity is linked to physical experiments
•Ibid., p.
4 Albert Einstein, Relativity, the Special and the General Theory
(New York,
1931), trans., Robert W. Lawson, pp.

64

ANTONIO MORENO

which occur in space, the temporal contexture is one with spatial
contexture. Since there is no absolute space, there is no absolute
time ... Therefore from the standpoint of philosophy, it is evident
that scientific thought requires a rebuilding of the notions of space
and time in terms of their solidarity.5
Physicists have tried to solve the problem in various ways,
and several have suggested solutions which should be examined
carefully. For example, Eddington seems to reject the possibility of absolute time when he says: " There is no absolute
' now ', but only the various relative ' nows ', differing according to the reckoning of different observers." 6 Eddington himself, however, suggests a tentative solution to the question: his
distinction between what is" true" and what is" really true".
Discussing length (or time) , he says: " The shortening of the
rod is true, but is not really true. It is not a statement about
reality (the absolute) but it is a true statement about appearances in our frame of reference. The proper length is unaltered;
the relative length is shortened." 7 Statements which deal with
appearances are, for Eddington, " true "; hut statements dealing with the realities beneath appearances are "really true ". 8
In Eddington's thinking, relativity is not concerned with the
absolute reality of physical beings but with mobile beings insofar as they are subjected to spatial reckonings, which depend
on the velocity of the inertial system. Even for Einstein there
seems to exist an absolute reality which is unaltered by relativity as suggested, for example, by this comment: "Sub specie
aJeternitatisPoincare, in my opinion, is right. The idea of a
measuring-rod, and the idea of the clock coordinated with it in
the theory of relativity, do not find exact correspondence in the
real world." 9 Thus relativity represents a physical system of
• Gaston Bachelard, "The Philosophical Dialectic of the Concept of Relativity,"
in Albert Einstein: Philos.opher-Seientist, p. 571.
6 Sir Arthur Eddington, The Nature of the Physical World (Cambridge, 1958),
p. 49.
7 Ibid., p. 84.
•Ibid., p. 88.
•Albert Einstein, " Geometry and Experience," in Readings in the Philosophy of
Science (New York, 1958), edited by H. Feigl and M. Brodbeck, p. 19!t.

TIME AND RELATIVITY

65

relations and its evaluation must be made from that perspective.
A famous mathematician and philosopher creates the following model of objective time:
Change becomes possible only through the lapse of time. The existence of an objective time, however, means ... that reality consists of an infinity of layers of " now " which comes into existence
successively. But if simultaneity is something relative in the sense
explained, reality cannot be split up into such layers in an objectively determined way. Each observer has his own set of "nows",
and none of these various systems of layers can claim the prerogative of representing the obj.ective lapse of time.10
Einstein recognized the value of Godel's objection, acknowledging in humble words: "The problem here involved disturbed
me already at the time of the building up the general theory of
relativity without my having succeeded in clarifying it." 11
Presenting a possible solution to the riddle, Godel observes that
the complete equivalence of all observers moving with different
velocity subsists only in the abstract space-time of the special
relativity theory. The existence of matter, however, destroys
the equivalence of different observers and distinguishes some of
them from the rest. These are the observers who follow in their
motion the mean motion of matter. Godel also seems to suggest
the possibility of an absolute motion and absolute time:
Now in all cosmological solutions of the gravitational equations
known at present the local time of all these observers fit together
into one world time, so that apparently it becomes possible to consider this time as the" true" one, which lapses objectively. 12
The Austrian mathematician, however, is not completely happy
with his own solution and leaves the problem to others for
future consideration. 18
1 ° Kurt Godel, " A Remark About the Relationship Between Relativity Theory
and Idealistic Philosophy," in Albert Einstein: Philosopher-Scientist, p. 558.
11 Albert Einstein, " Reply to Criticisms," in Albert Einstein: Philosopher-Scient-

ist, p. 687.
12
1•

Godel, op. cit., p. 559.
Ibid., pp. 560-561.

66

ANTONIO

MORENO

From the philosophical viewpoint, we may demonstrate a
further difficulty with Godel's conceptualization of time. When
he suggests that time consists of an infinity of layers of" now"
which come into existence successively, this image appeals to
our intuition. But it gives rise to serious logical difficulties already known to the Greeks and Zeno of Elea concerning the
nature of a continuum: either a continuum is composed of indivisibles or not; either a line is composed of an infinite number
of points (indivisibles) or not; and either time is composed of
an infinity of layers of nows (indivisibles) or not. Even small
infinitesimals can be divided, as Hilbert says, for no matter
how small they are, they can be divided again and again since
any small part of a continuum appears to possess the same
properties as the whole.14
A continuum cannot be composed of indivisibles, for how can
something which is essentially divisible be composed of parts
which are not? How can extension be attained from indivisible
parts, which by definition do not have extension? Aristotle
gives three reasons why a continuum cannot be composed of
indivisibles; the first:
Since indivisibles have no parts, they must be in contact with one
another as whole with whole. And if they are in contact with one
another as whole with whole, they will not be continuous: for that
which is continuous has distinct parts: and these parts into which
it is divisible are different in this way, i.e., spatially separated. 15

Essentially, a divisible continuum cannot be made out of indivisibles. If we therefore define points as " indivisibles having
position," 16 a line cannot be composed of an infinite number
of points. Nor can time be composed of an infinite number of
nows. Or, contradicting Godel's own words, time cannot be
composed of an infinity of layers of "now", which comes into
existence successively. As Aquinas states explicitly:
14 David Hilbert, quoted by Tobias Dantzig in Number, the Language of Science
(Garden City, 1956), p. 122.
'"Aristotle, The Works of Aristotle, Physica, trans., R. P. Hardie and R. K. Gaye,
(Oxford, 1962). VI Phys., 1, 231 b 3-6. Aristotle gives another reason to prove
this important conclusion. See ibid., 231 b 6-25, and 232 a 18-20.
16 Aristotle, Metaphysics A 2, 982 a 26.

TIME AND RELATIVITY

67

He [Aristotle] proves that a continuum is not compos.ed of indivisible parts in succession. A point is not successively related to another point in such a way that they constitute a line. Nor is one
"now" successively related to another "now" in such a way that
they can constitute time. For one thing is in succession to another
when there is no middle of the same genus between them, as was
explained above. But the middle between two points is always a
line. And if a line were composed of points, as was assumed, it
would follow that the middle between two points is always another
point. And likewise the middle between two "nows " is time.
Therefore, a line is not composed of points in succession, nor is time
composed of " nows " in succession.17

It is obvious that any theory which presupposes the continuum to be composed of indivisibles encounters serious conceptual difficulties. Godel's brilliant speculation, however,
should be examined because his ideas of time and general relativity do not imply necessarily that time is composed of indivisibles, even though Godel believed this to be the case.

The Concept of Time in Aristotle and Einstein
Aside from Einstein's concept of time, there is another problem regarding the unity of " ontological " time which dates
back to antiquity. In order to understand the philosophical
implications of this problem, it is convenient first to review certain aspects of the nature of time in the thought of both Aristotle and Einstein.
For the Greeks, the difficulty of knowing time springs from
its very nature. Time is not a tangible entity-like a tree, for
example, which is " there ". Time by definition entails succession, something which is not " all together ", but comes into
actuality in parts. 18 The inherent obscurity of time is expressed
poetically by Augustine: " What, then, is time? " he says, " If
no one asks me, I know; if I want to explain it to someone who
17 Thomas Aquinas, In VI Phys., lect. 1, n. 5 Commentary on Aristotle's Physics
by St. Thomas Aquinas, trans., Richard S. Blackwell and Richard J. Spath (New
Haven, l!J63) Cf. Aristotle, VI Phys., 1, £32 a 18-21.
18 Thomas Aquinas, Opusc. De Tempore, ch. I. Cf. In II Meta., lect. 1, n. 280.
De Sensu et Sensato, lect. 18.

68

ANTONIO MORENO

does ask me, I do not know." 19 As the Spanish philosopher
Balmes says, man counts time, but is ignorant of its nature. 20
In spite of its innate obscurity, however, common man realizes that time depends upon motion. If we imagine that all
motions of the world were stopped, could we think of time? It
would be impossible; ontologically, time depends on motion,
and in the cognitive order we are aware of time through motion,
as Aristotle explains:
But neither does time exist without change; for when the state of
our own minds does not change at all, or we have not noticed its
changing, we do not realize that time has elapsed, any more than
those who are fabled to sleep among the heroes in Sardinia do when
they are awakened; for they connect the earlier "now" with the
later and make them one, cutting out the interval because of their
failure to notice it. So, just as, if the " now " were not di:fferent
but one and the same, there would not have been time, so too when
its difference escapes our notice the interval does not seem to be
time ... It is evident, then, that time is neither movement nor
independent of movement. 21
Aristotle refers to those who are fabled to have slept among the
heroes or the gods in Sardinia. Through certain incantations
some were made insensible and there, it was said, slept among
the heroes. When they returned to themselves they perceived
the instant of time in which they had lost consciousness with
the later " now " in which they awoke, as if they were one.
The old fable exemplifies graphically how time depends upon
motion.
Since movement is continuous because of the magnitude,
time, too, must be continuous:
But what is moved is moved from something to something, and all
magnitude is continuous. Therefore the movement goes with the
magnitude. Because the magnitude is continuous, the movement
too must be continuous, and if the magnitude, then the time; for
Saint Augustine, Confessions, Bk. 11, ch. 14.
(Madrid, 1955), I. VII, ch. I. BAC edition II, p. 560.
"Aristotle, IV Phys. 11, 218 b 20-35.
19

ao Jaime Balmes, Filosofia Fundamental

TiME AND RELATIVlTY

69

the time that has passed is always thought to be in proportion to
the movement. 22

Aquinas elaborates on these relations, and says that time is
consequent upon the first motion-namely, local motion, which
is motion from place to place in respect to some magnitude.
For there seems to be the same amount of time as there is the
first motion. 23
The dimensional continuum of space-time is reappearing on
the horizon, for in the dependence of time and motion upon
magnitude lies the " ontological " foundation of the time-space
continuum of relativity. Space and time are not absolute and
independent, as in Newtonian physics. On the contrary, they
are interconnected insofar as a mobile in a time t goes through
a continuous spatial magnitude (x1, X2, xs) .
If time and motion are interconnected, then how can they be
distinguished? Are they the same? They are not; what makes
them different is that the concept of time, unlike the idea of
motion, includes the notion of the before and after. For it is
only when we perceive the before and after in motion that we
say that time has elapsed. The " before " and " after" of motion does not mean " metric " numbers, but simply an order in
the magnitude. A is before B in the magnitude, and between
A and B there is a certain magnitude. 24 The before and after of
time corresponds to the before and after of motion, and those
of motion to different positions in the magnitude, as Aquinas
explains:
This is so because magnitude is quantity which has position. But
before and after belongs to the nature of position. Hence, place has
a before and after from its very position. And since there is before
and after in magnitude, it is necessary that in motion there is a
before and after in proportion to the things which are in magnitude
and in place. And consequently there is also a before and after in
time. For motion and time are so related that one of them always
follows upon the other. 25
Ibid.,
a 6-13. Cf. Aquinas, In IV Phys., lect. 17, n. 6.
Aquinas, In IV Phys., lect. 17, n. 6.
2 • Aristotle, IV Phys., 11,
a
3.
25 Aquinas, In IV Phys., lect. 17, n. 7 .

22

23

70

. ANTONIO MORENO

Thus, we say that tirn.e passes when we sense a before and after
in motion. When we do perceive a before and an after, then we
say that there is time. For time is exactly this: " number of
motion in respect to ' before ' and ' after'." 26 Hence, time is
not movement, but only movement insofar as it admits enumeration. We discriminate the more or less by number, but more
or less movement by time. 27
Proceeding carefully, we see that time defined as the number
of motion is "ontological time". But we can again measure
ontological time, for the continuous magnitude underlying motion and time, when it is divided and measured in a "metric"
way, divides and measures motion and time. Physicists have
done this for centuries, and this constitutes the root of the
numerical computation of the relations existing between space
and time through motion. Einstein describes these relations as
follows:
In order to have a complete description of the motion we must
specify how the body alters its position with time; i.e., for every
point on the trajectory it must be stated at what time the body is
situated there. These data must be supplemented by such a definition of time, that, in virtue of this definition, these time values can
be regarded essentially as magnitudes (results of measurements)
capable of observation. 28

It is obvious that Einstein's time is not Aristotle's ontological
time, but its measure: "metric" time. Ontological time is the
measure of motion, and metric time measures ontological time.
As Einstein says: "We understand by 'time' of an event the
reading of (position of hands) that one of these clocks which
is in the vicinity (in space) of the event." 29 It is crucial to
separate these two complementary levels of the same physical
26 Aristotle, IV Phys., 11, 219 b 1-3. Cf. ibid., 219 a 22-25: "We apprehend time
only when we have marked mortion, marked it by before and after; and it is only
when we perceived before and after in motion that we say that time has elapsed."
Aquinas, In IV Phys., lect. 17, n. 10.
27 Aristotle, IV Phys., 11, 219 b 3-5.
28 Einstein, Relativity, p. 10.
2 • Ibid., p. 28.

TIME AND RELATIVITY

71

reality, as Dingle points out in this passage: "It has been supposed that the relativistic theory gives us some insight into
what is called the 'nature' of time ... What relativity theory
illuminates is not the metaphysical (ontological) nature of
time, but the function which time measurement can perform in
physics." 30
Time is measured by measuring the space through which
motion takes place. The three coordinates of space, and the one
of time, formed a four dimensional continuum long before the
theory of relativity was developed, as Einstein himself acknowledged;
It is a widespread error that the special theory of relativity is supposed to have newly introduced the four dimensionality of physical
continuum. This, of course, is not the case. Classical mechanics,
too, is based on the four dimensional continuum of space and time;
... the special theory of relativity, on the other hand, creates a
formal dependence between the way in which the spatial coordinates, on the one hand, and the temporal coordinates, on the other,
have to enter into the natural laws. 31

This new formal dependence between space and time, which
characterizes relativity, reckons space and time in a way totally
unknown to previous centuries. For physicists were unaware of
the influence of the velocity of the mobile on the reckoning of
space and time. This discovery is completely new, and could
not have been imagined by the Greek philosophers, Newton, or
even Poincare. This new concept of reckoning time and space
presents fresh problems to philosophy, and even to physics
itself.

Time, Metric Measure, and Levels of Reality
When dealing with both philosophy and science, we should
bear in mind the different methodologies that are used and the
levels of reality that can be investigated in a single physical
• 0 H. Dingle, "Implications
of the Special Theory of Relativity", in Albert Einstein: Philosopher-Scientist, pp. 550-551.
31 Einstein, Albert Einstein: Philosopher-Scientist, p. 57.

72

ANTONIO

MORENO

entity. Recall Reichenbach's notion that was discussed earlier:
the use of different definitions may give rise to different but
equivalent descriptions of the same physical reality. 32
The Aristotelian definition of time numbers motion in terms
of the before and after. This topological (or ontological) definition simply implies an order in succession. Physicists, however,
concretize the measure of time by means of a sophisticated system of mathematical relations. The better we know the reckonings of the relations between space and time, the better we grasp
the meaning of these concepts and their interconnections.
Herein lies the contribution of the amazing world of Einstein.
We should note, however, that the philosophical and scientific
descriptions of time are not opposite, but complementary. As
Reichenbach explains so well, neither the relativity theory-nor
any other physical theory-fully exhausts the description of
reality. For example, the irreversibility of time does not find
expression in the theory of relativity, but nevertheless:
We must not conclude that that is the ultimate word which the
physicist has to say about time ... A physical theory may well
abstract from certain properties of the physical world; that does
not mean that these properties do not exist. The irreversibility of
time has so far been dealt with only in thermodynamics. 33

Thus for the interpretation of a physical theory, we must
know the level of reality in which its principles operate. In general, the special theory of relativity is concerned with the reckoning of the relations of space and time in two Galilean inertial
systems. There are, however, borderline questions posed by
relativity which concern-at least for clarification-both the
philosopher and physicist. Einstein's concept of relative simultaneity and its implications is one of them. We are now in a
position to reconsider the problem posed earlier, namely, the
unity of time-but from another level: the ontological, in light
of the principles of the philosophy of nature in Aristotle and
Aquinas.
Reichenbach, op.cit., pp. fl94-fl96,
••Ibid., pp. 305-s06,

32

TIME AND RELATIVITY

73

The Unity of Time and Philosophical SpecUlation
As noted before, aside from Einstein's concept of time, there
is another kind of problem regarding the unity of ontological
time which is as old as Greek philosophy: wherever there is
motion, there must be time. But all bodies are mobile, for all
bodies are in place. Hence, it follows that there is time wherever there is motion; and as many times as there are motions.
On the other hand, do we not say that two occurrences take
place at the same time? Aristotle seems to favor the existence
of only one time, but his first argument is far from convincing:
But other things as well may have been moved now, and there
would be a number of each of the two movements. Is there another
time, then, and will there he two equal times at once? surely not.
For a time that is both equal and simultaneous is one and the same
time, ... for if there were dogs, and horses, and seven of each, it
would be the same number. So, too, movements that have simultaneous limits have the same time, ... the time of the two changes
is the same if their number also is equal and simultaneous ... because the number of equal and simultaneous movements is everywhere one and the same. 34

Aquinas believed that this was not Aristotle's own solution, because the number which corresponds to time is not the abstract
number of mathematics, but the number applied to objects in
motion. Seven horses and seven dogs possess the same abstract
number seven; but they are different because horses and dogs
are different kinds of beings to which the same number seven is
applied. Time is the number of motion in respect to the before
and after, but" time is not a number abstracted from the things
numbered, but existing in the things numbered. Now number
as it exists in the things numbered is not the same for all; but
is different for different things ... " 35 This distinction is valid
even in contemporary physics. Physics is not pure mathematics,
but a physico-mathematical discipline that applies mathematics
to physical matter. Einstein, for example, is very careful to
••Aristotle, IV Phys .., 14, QQ3 b 1-13. Cf. Aquinas, In IV Phys., lect. 23, n. Q.
Aquinas, Summa, I, q. 10, a. 6.

35

74

ANTONIO

MORENO

distinguish between " practical geometry " (geometry applied
to things) as a branch of physics from "purely axiomatic
geometry" (abstract geometry) as a branch of geometry. 36 Although we do not yet have a solution to the unity of time,
Aristotle's second argument, using principles completely different from the first, seems to suggest the answer:
In locomotion there is included circular movement, and everything
is measured by some one thing homogeneous with it, units by a unit,
horses by a horse, similarly times by some definite time; . . . if,
then, what is first is the measure of everything homogeneous with it,
regular circular motion is above all else the measure, because the
number of this is the best known. Now neither alteration nor increase nor coming into being can be regular, but locomotion can be.
This is also why time is thought to be the movement of the sphere,
viz., because the other movements are measured by this, and time
by this movement. 37

This is Aristotle's solution of the unity of time; he establishes
the main principles leading to the answer but he leaves the
problem yet a little unsolved. Aquinas, using Aristotle's principles, provides the elements missing in the Greek's philosophy.
Of course Aquinas's solution of the unity of time is outmoded
because it depends on Ptolemy's system of the cosmos, but the
idea behind his solution is of interest, even now, for it rests on
ontological grounds; it can be summarized in two main principles: (1) the subordination and dependence of all motions on
the first, which is the cause of them; (2) the distinction between
" intrinsic " and " extrinsic" measures, which reduces all
measurements of times to the first time.
In his first principle-the subordination of all motion to the
first-Aquinas follows Aristotle's general ideas on measurement
and complements what was left incomplete in the Physics. We
can synthesize Aquinas's ideas in this way: (a) Each thing is
measured by some one thing of the same genus, as proved in
86 Einstein, " Geometry and Experience," in Readings in the Philosophy of Science,
pp. 190-191.
87 Aristotle, IV Phys. 14, 223 b 13-25.

TIME AND RELATIVITY

75

the Metaphysics. 38 (b) Local-motion is the first, simplest and
regular of all motions; and circular motion is the first and
simplest and most regular of all local-motion, as proved in the
Physics. 39 (c) It is necessary that time be measured by some
determinate time, for example, all times by the day. 40 (d) Now
to find the ontological foundation of the first movement, only
the first of all circular motion needs to be discovered which is
the motion of the first sphere:
And among all other circular motions, the first motion which revolves the whole firmament in daily motion is the most uniform
and regular. Hence that circular motion, as first, and more simple,
and regular, is the measure of all motions. Moreover, it is necessary
that a regular motion be the measure or number of the others. For
every measure ought to be most certain, and this is found in things
which are uniformly related. Therefore, from this we can conclude
that, if the first circular motion measures all motions, and if motions
are measured by time, then it is necessary to say that time is the
number of the first circular motion, according to which time is
measured, and in regard to which all other motions are measured
by time. 41

In the Summa, however, to establish the unity of time Aquinas
emphasizes, not the dependence which corresponds to causality,
but the subordination of any measure to the first measure in its
genus. "For the true reason why time is one, is to be found in
the oneness of the first movement by which, since it is most
simple, all movements are measured ... For things to be
measured by one, it is not necessary that the one should be the
cause of all, but that it be more simple than the rest." 42 Furthermore, foreseeing the possibility of other cosmological solu88 Aristotle, Meta., X, 1, 1053 a 24-27. Cf. Aquinas, In Meta., X, lect. 2, nn. 19541955.
89 Aquinas, In VIII Phys., lect. 14.
•o Aquinas, In IV Phys., lect. 23, n. 9.
41 Aquinas, ibid., n. 10. This is also true of the cognitive order:
ibid: "Hence
there is only one time because of the unity of the first motion. Nevertheless, whoever senses any motion senses time, because mutability in all mutable things is
caused by the first motion, as was said abo•ve ".
••Summa, I, q. 10, a. 6 and ad 4.

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MORENO

tions different from the Greek conception of the cosmos, and
faithful to the above principles, Aquinas writes:
If movement of the firmament did not begin immediately from the

beginning, then the time that preceded was the measure, not of the
firmament's movement, but of the first movement of whatever kind
... But if the first movement was another than this, time would
have been its measure, for everything is measured by the first of
its kind. 43
The problem is not yet completely solved, for the second
principle-namely, the distinction between measures-which
reduces all the measurements of time to the first time must be
examined. Aquinas distinguishes two kinds of measures: the
first is "intrinsic": this measure is in the thing measured as an
accident is to subject. This measure is an inherent property of
the subject. The second measure is "extrinsic": this measure
is not multiplied by the multiplication of the things measured. 44
Now Aquinas applies these two kinds of measures to unify the
first time with all other times:
Therefore the true reason why time is one, is to be found in the oneness of the first movement by which, since it is most simple, all
other movements are measured. Therefore time is referred to that
movement, not only as a measure is to the things measured, but
also as accident is to subject; and thus receives unity from it.
Whereas to other movements it is compared only as the measure is
to the things measured. Hence it is not multiplied by their multitude, because by one separated measure many things can be
measured. 45
Hence, the first measure measures intrinsically the first time,
and extrinsically all the rest of times. And since the latter
measure is extrinsic, all the times are reduced to the unity of
the first, the time of the first sphere.
The concept of "first" or "intrinsic", namely, the natural
standards of the universe by which other quantities are measured, is valid and important in contemporary physics. PhysiIbid., I, q. 66, a. 4 ad S.
Aquinas, II Sent., d. 2, q. I, a. 8 ad 1.
45 Aquinas, Summa, 1, q. 10, a. 6.

43

44

TIME AND RELATIVITY

77

cists adopt arbitrarily certain standard units, such as the gram
or pound, but they are most interested in grasping the universal
constants of nature, which in philosophical parlance are equivalent to the intrinsic measures of philosophy: the natural units
by which all material beings and motions are measured. Science
starts by investigating the relative, in search of the absolute.
For as Planck says, the goal of the physicist is to find " in all
these data and factors, the absolute, the universally valid, the
invariant, that is hidden in them." 46
These constants always prove to be the same, regardless of
the method used for measuring them; and the endeavor to discover them and to trace all physical and chemical processes
back to them is, as Planck says again, the very thing that may
be called "the ultimate goal of scientific research and study." 47
For Planck, these constants are c, the speed of light; e, the
charge of the electron; and h, the quantum of action. For
Heisenberg, the universal constants determine the scale of nature, the characteristic quantities that cannot be reduced to
other quantities. According to Heisenberg, one needs at least
three fundamental units for a complete set of units, and his are
the same as Planck's: namely, e, the charge of the electron; c,
the velocity of light; and h, the quantum of action. 48 For Dirac,
there are but two: e, the charge of the electron; and c, the velocity of light. He believes that h, the quantum of action, will
be explained eventually in terms of e.49 We notice that these
outstanding physicists all agree in considering c, the velocity of
light, to be one of the basic constants of nature, in conformity
with the theory of relativity.
Because Ptolemy's concept of the cosmos is outmoded, the
ontological unity of time, if it exists, should be found in the context of contemporary physics. Is it possible to to use Aquinas's
••Max Planck, Scientific Autobiography (New York, 1949), trans., Frank Gaynor,
p. 47.

" Ibid., pp. 77-78.
••Werner Heisenberg, Physics and Philosophy (New York, 1058), p. 164.
49 P. M. Dirac, "The Evolution of the Physicist's Picture of Nature," in Scientific
American,
5, 1963, p. 140.

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ANTONIO

MORENO

principles within the framework of relativity? We wish to try
a tentative solution to this important issue.
The unity of time in Aquinas requires: (1) a first motion to
which all other motions are subordinated; (2) this first motion
must be regular, simple, uniform, most certain, and of maximum
speed, " because it takes the least time." 50 According to the
theory of relativity, the motion of light c seems to fulfill these
conditions, for the speed of light is a limit which no moving
body can ever reach. This extraordinary conclusion, which we
owe to relativity, manifests the existence of a mysterious subordination of all movements of the universe to light, for light
enters in all equations and formulas of relativity. Therefore:
(1) No motion con reach the velocity of light c, which implies a
subordination of all motions with respect to the motion of light.
(2) The velocity of light in the void is simple, uniform, regular,
and the maximum speed: c = 3 x 1010 cm/ sec. Therefore, the
motion of light can be taken as the" first motion", and consequently, its measure would be the "first time "-the objective
and intrinsic first time by which all motions and times must be
measured. But" why does the special theory of relativity single
out, of all possible modes of movements, the movement in a
straight line at a constant speed? ... As far as we know there
is no reason in the world, except that the world is like this and
not otherwise ... that motion in a straight line at a constant
speed is, in a sense, the basic state." 51
We can therefore conclude tentatively that the ontological
unity of time depends upon that first motion which is the motion of light, by which, " since it is the most simple, all other
movements are measured. 52 Other movements are not multiplied by their multitude, because by one separated and extrinsic
•0

Aquinas, In X Meta., lect. 9l, n. 1947.

61

J. Bronowski, "The Clock Paradox," in Scientific American 208, 2, 1963, p. 142.

Cf. Planck, op.cit., p. 47: "The theory of relativity confers an absolute meaning on
a magnitude which in classical theory has only a relative significance: the velocity
of light. The velocity of light is to the theory of relativity as the elementary
quantum of action is to quantum theory: it is its absolute core."
• 1 Aquinas, Summa, I, q. 10, a. 6.

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TIME AND RELATIVITY

measure, movements can be measured. In this way, many
movements are measured by the first, the motion of light c, the
number of which is time.
Relativity therefore is founded on the principle that the natural state of things is uniform motion in a straight line. In
contrast, the Greeks believed that the natural state of motion is
motion in a circle. Relativity theory emphasizes the speed of
light. The Greeks and Aquinas emphasized the motion of the
first sphere and the ontological subordination of all motions and
times to the motion and time of this sphere. But in bothrelativity theory and Greek philosophy-there exists an" ontological" subordination of all movements to the first motion and
time. Consequently, there exists an ontological time.
On another level of physical reality, however, the level of
"metric" time, the theory of relativity appears to present
great conceptual difficulties to the existence of a universal objective " metric " measure of time. There are as many metric
times as different relative velocities between bodies in motion.
Godel's stimulating speculation on relativity and time, although
very valuable, does not seem to afford a completely satisfactory
answer to the problem posed in this paper. Insofar as metric
time is concerned, we may conclude that there does not seem
to exist an objective and universal metric time.
ANTONIO

Graduate Theological Union
Berkeley, California

MORENO,

O.P.

THE MODES OF THOMISTIC DISCOURSE: QUESTIONS
FOR CORBIN'S LE CHEMIN DE LA THEOLOGIE
CHEZ THOMAS D'AQUIN.*

1J

0 JUDGE ON the public evidence, Michel Corbin's
Le chemin de la theologie chez Thomas d'Aquin has yet
to get a wide hearing. This is understandable. In the
din of septicentennial publications honoring Saint Thomas,
Corbin's book stands out as particularly forbidding. It is nine
hundred pages long, densely written, jargon-ridden,' Hegelian'.
But Corbin's book is one of the few things worth hearing from
the year of conferences. This is because Le chemin de la theologie is a work of passionate intelligence. It labors to institute
a new sort of discourse about Thomas by sketching and applying a genuinely reflective practice of interpretation. Yet, what
is curious and important, the book fails to reflect on the notion
of textual language which it assumes and so cannot measure its
departure from Thomas's carefully constructed hierarchy of
exegeses.
I want to rehearse Corbin's main arguments in the hope of
giving them a hearing. After a short summary limited to the
book's large features, I will frame three sets of questions. If the
questions press Corbin in addition to drawing him out, it is
because his seriousness demands an equal seriousness in any
reader. It would do the book no justice only to praise its obvious merits.
I. The Argument
There are three movements in Corbin's argument. The first
sets the tone of his reading by distinguishing it from the usual
sorts. The second shows that Aquinas's methodological texts do
*Michel Corbin: Le chemin de la theologie chez Thomas d'Aquin (Paris: Beauchesne, 1974), Bibliotheque des Archives de Philosophie, n.s., # 16.

80

THE MODES OF THOMISTIC DISCOURSE

81

in fact make up the moments of a single development. This
step comprises the detailed reading of four texts-portions of
the Scriptum on the Sentences, Prologue, Questions and 3 of
the commentary on Boethius's De Trinitate, the first nine chapters of the Contra Gentiles, and the first Question of the Summa
Theologiae. The third movement argues that the end of the development in the Summa is indeed an end, the resolution of
certain fundamental difficulties (however much it might also be
the raising of new ones). I ought to make clear that the division
into movements is mine. The order of the book itself is more
grandly architectonic. A hermeneutical Introduction is followed
by four Chapters, one for each of the methodological texts to be
studied. The Introduction and each of the Chapters is divided,
an echo of Hegel's symmetries, into four Sections and twelve
Sub-sections. Still, the sense of the book can be grasped more
easily by seeing it as three movements.
The first movement lays down rules for exegesis. In more
than a hundred anfractuous pages, the Introduction wants to
justify the practice about to be adopted. Corbin is taking
nothing for granted; he wants the text to unfold as if of itself.
He begins, then, by diagnosing the state of the theologianreader who has survived the collapse of rationalism. To such a
reader, the medieval texts appear as a place from which to begin afresh, as " the moment from which and after which the
way (le chemin) begins to bend and to deviate, only to end at
impasses " (p. 34) .1 If medieval texts are to be studied, Thomas
Aquinas's writings certainly stand out as prime candidates. But
how can this be, since Thomism was part and parcel of the
moribund rationalism? Corbin distinguishes, perhaps too perfunctorily, the "sclerotic" Thomism of the recent tradition
from Thomas himself. 2 He wants to ignore the former and
search out the latter (pp. 36-37).
1 Parenthetical
references, unless otherwise specified, will be made to the pagination of Michel Corbin's Le chemin de la theologie chez Thomas d' Aquin. All translations from the book are my own; I have erred consistently on the side of literalness.
2 For dissents from Corbin, see Dario Composta, " II concetto di teologia in San
Tommaso d'Aquino," Doctor Communis, 30 (1977), 270-79, pp. 270-72 and 274;

82

MARK D. JORDAN

There is more to it. Corbin wants to recover Thomas as an
interlocutor on the way of theological thinking, a " master"
who is "capable of putting back on the road a unitary and
comprehensive discourse which will permit a proclamation of
the Word of God in the intellectual categories of today" (p. 37).
On the one hand, then, the Thomistic texts cannot be treated
in an immediately historical fashion, since that is to focus on
the " conditioned presence " of the text and to magnify the distance between reader and writer. But neither can Corbin take
Thomas's works in an immediately theological fashion, since
that is to focus only on the " unconditioned aim " of the works.
Moreover, in so far as the purely theological reading sets itself
over against the purely historical and stresses the difference
between conditioned and unconditioned, it falls prey to its own
love of contraries and founders on three dualities: salvation
history against an eternal science, the grace-giving action from
God against metaphysical discourse about God, and Hebraic
faith against Hellenistic reason (pp. 40-41). These dilemmas of
the purely theological reading are to be sublated by recalling
that they are nothing but questions put in finite form which ask
for answers also in finite form. No finite proposition can ever
exhaust the community of interests which motivates the theological reading. That reading then necessarily calls up a plurality of finite expressions, the study of which is the historical
reading. And vice versa.
The mutual negation-and-dependence gives way to what Corbin names a" speculative reading." Such a reading is bounded
by the realization that no human exegesis can ever be purely
theological or perfectly so, nor purely and perfectly historical.
Rather, history and theology are axes approached asymptotically in the uninterrupted act of reading, as the partial unity
of the two (p. 50).
In all of this, Corbin wants to bring the act of reading to selfJean-Pierre Torrell, Review of Corbin, Revue Thomiste, 75 (1975), 143-49, p. 147.
Is it clear to what extent neo-Thomism viewed itself as a 'reading' of Thomas in
the strict sense intended by Corbin?

THE MODES OF THOMISTIC DISCOURSE

83

consciousness, to make a reading which is " lucid about its own
fundamental presuppositions" (p. 53) . He wants to deploy
historical and theological techniques of reading in the service of
the speculative task, which is to revivify a text, with its mixture
of distance and nearness, of ' interiority ' and ' exteriority '. The
assumption, of course, is that there is something to be vivified,
some progress of thought through the texts which can be represented by a progress in the reader. Corbin analyzes this assumption into four propositions (p. 65). (I) The Thomistic corpus
contains various complete systems of theology. (2) These systems can best be compared by charting the transposition of
formal elements in them. (3) The sum of these systems is a
vector of development which is continuous and homogeneous.
(4) This vector is the marriage of logical and chronological
forces.
Corbin tries to secure the four premisses, and the speculative
reading which they characterize, in two ways. First, he attacks
the alternatives. Corbin argues that one cannot assume that all
the texts are saying the same thing (a purely ' synchronous '
reading; cf. p. 59). Nor can one assume that the different texts,
instances of different literary forms, are saying different things
(a purely' diachronous 'reading; pp. 70-71). Rather, the speculative reading must combine synchrony and diachrony in the
image of a linear movement, of a journey, a chemin. But can
the fact of such a progression be demonstrated? Not a priori; it
is only through a detailed reading that the assumptions are
justified (p. 76). There is no tertium quid which can be invoked
to judge the correspondence of reading and text; there is no text
an sick to which one can appeal. This does not render all readings equivalent, however. Any reading is still a reading of the
work and not the work itself (p. 87) .
Corbin foreshadows the results of a speculative reading for
the interpretation of Thomas in the form of a table (p. 92) . It
charts the presences and absences of fixed thematic elements
from one methodological text to another. The table graphs six
such elements against the chronological line of the four texts.

84

MARK D. JORDAN

It purports to show that there is a clear progression from the
commentary on the Sentknces forward. New elements appear
in regular fashion. Their appearances can be used to characterize each work (p. 95) . Thus, the writings on the Sentences are
characterized by the structural parallel between theology and
philosophy; the commentary on Boethius by the preambles of
faith; the Contra Gentiles by the double mode of truth; and the
great Summa by the central place of Scripture and tradition.
What Corbin wants to see in this is not only the progress of
Thomas with respect to the scholastic problematic, but a progressive narrowing of the distance between Corbin's own practice of reading and the substance of Thomas's texts. Corbin
begins with a notion about the finitude of language. He derives
a particular exegetical stance which seems foreign to Thomas's
reasoning in the Sentences. But Corbin will argue that Thomas
comes in the Summa to an understanding of the Word of God
substantially coincident with the tenet of textual finitude presupposed by Corbin. This coincidence is the ultimate justification for the way of reading.
The reading itself occupies about eight hundred pages. It
would be ridiculous to try a summary here. What can be said
is this: Corbin carries out the project of the table of presences
and absences in enormous detail. The interpretation is marked
everywhere by his concern to show the continuity of the chemin
in Thomas's works. Thus, the Sentences is viewed through the
philosophy /theology parallel and is criticized as having an angelic view of the possibilities for a human intellectus fidei. In
the commentary on Boethius, Thomas is seen actively searching
for a new grip on the problem. The exteriority of the structural
parallel is sublated in the realization that theology is human
discourse which must have philosophy already within it (p.
467) . The Sentences' division into theology and philosophy,
into rationes fidei and rationes naturales, is now replaced by a
division within theology between rationes persuasoriae and rationes demonstrativae (p. 468, n. 167) .
The Contra Gentiles takes up the doubling of the intellectus

THE MODES OF THOMISTIC DISCOURSE

85

fidei as its basic structure, placing all the ratwnes demonstrativae before the persuasoriae, reasons before similitudes (pp.
630-31). Since the truth of faith reflects the absolutely simple
God, any doubling in it cannot stand. Thomas must reduce it
by a movement of reason from creatures back to God; this gives
rise to the" apologetic illusion" about the work (p. 584). But
the posterior unity of the ascent of reason to God does not jibe
with the prior unity of the truth as a gift from God. More emphatically, there is a tension between the prior unity of the
theology which uses reason as servant and the posterior unity
of reason which tries to scale heaven with similitudes. One
cannot be superimposed on the other; the course of the development from the Sentences to the Contra Gentiles has become
irreversible (p. 583) . As a consequence, the doubling of the
faith in the Contra Gentiles must seem unfounded. Its positing
of an ascent in two parts, one natural and one supernatural,
cannot be referred to its genesis and so must be presented as
immediate. This instability in the composition of the work
powers a drive to reformulate the issues.
The great Summa achieves the reformulation not by returning nostalgically to the prior unity, but by transforming the
model o:f theology for a third time. Theology is now to be seen
as the interpretation of the finite course of the revealed Word
of God, embodied in Scripture and tradition. It is the discovery,
Corbin thinks, of what would be famous as the doctrine of the
loci theologici. As the Summa resolves the tension of the scholastic problematic, it passes beyond that and inaugurates a new
chain of thought.
II. Questions for the Argument
A bare outline of the book cannot do the slightest justice to
its argument. Trying to sketch it is like trying to copy in penand-ink one of Joseph Turner's marvels of color and light. Even
so, I must now overlook the disparity between my sketch and
Corbin's work in order to begin three lines of questioning. The
questions correspond to the three movements of Corbin's proj-

86

MARK D. JORDAN

ect-the characterization of the speculative reading, the demonstration of the continuity of the chemin in the texts, and the
claim about what is accomplished in the Summa. I want to
argue that these three points reflect a singular absence in Corbin's book. For all his emphasis on the temporal limitation of
language, Corbin seems to see language only as temporally conditioned meanings. He has not sufficiently examined the ways
in which language works when it is not responding to temporal
pressures. He does not see how the temporal conditioning
might be subsumed within a larger view of the nature of texts.
This weakens his argument at the three turning-points.
1. Corbin established the speculative reading by tracing the

contradiction in the immediately historical and immediately
theological practices. What he does not do so well is show how
the speculative reading itself ought to proceed. He is not clear
about the appropriateness of including historical and theological
information in a speculative reading. Is the speculative reading
a pastiche of the two (what it sometimes seems), or is it some
'higher' reading which controls them as it makes use of them?
The problem of the subordination of philosophy to theology in
Thomas is repeated in Corbin with the problem about the subordination of historical and theological 'data' to speculative
'insight'.
There follow both substantive and rhetorical difficulties. The
substantive difficulties come in Corbin's failure to explicate the
presuppositions of language which might ground his theory of
speculative reading. These will crop up again in a moment. The
rhetorical difficulties come in trying to decide which discourse it
is that Corbin is joining or making. By what canons is it to be
judged? A good occasion for the question is Corbin's treatment
of the Contra Gentiles as a unity. Here he enters a thicket of
debate in the journals over the redaction of the Contra Gentiles
-its plan, audience, date. He does so with open eyes; there are
citations of Chenu, M. M. Goree, A. Gauthier, and D. Salman,
to pick the obvious contestants (pp. 478, 480, and 484 respectively). Corbin even criticizes the textual evidence in Peter

THE MODES OF THOMISTIC DISCOURSE

87

Marsilius very neatly as he argues against the apologetic theory
(pp. 479-82) .
All of this is 'good scholarship'. But it is done almost halfwillingly and in segregation from the speculative exegesis. It
does not seem, moreover, that Corbin intends to be judged by
the usual canons. Though he addresses the major positions, he
is not interested in being exhaustive. Corbin could, for instance,
have strengthened his point against the apologetic thesis by
showing that the Contra Gentiles was recognized as but a mediocre missionary tool by some of its expert contemporaries. 3
Again, Corbin could have taken up in his consideration of the
work's date the claim of Pierre Marc that the period of composition was really Hl69-74.4 The question of dating ought to be a
particularly critical one for Corbin, since any major alteration
in the established chronology would break up his chemin. 5
As it is, the scholarly references float in an isolated bubble
within Corbin's book, as if they were ornaments only, distractions for a public not yet ready to read him on his own terms.
Or perhaps, to say what seems truest, these are notes by Corbin
himself, meant to correct certain theories and modify others
without any attempt to be comprehensive. The introversion of
the discourse is underlined by the absence of a bibliography or
any 'apparatus' for reviewing the work's sources. 6 It also ap3 The Dominican Raymond Martini,
for instance, reworked the Contra Gentiles
before using it ' in the field ' precisely to incorporate detailed references to Islamic
source.s. Indeed, the parallels between the Contra Gentiles and Martini's Pugio
Fidei led M. Asin Palacios to conclude that Aquinas had plagiarized much of his
work. See the Iluellas de Islam (Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1941), p. 67.
• See Marc's lntroductio to the Liber de veritate catholicae fidei . . ., vol. I
(Turin & Rome: Marietti, 1967). Marc's hypothesis is, of course, generally rejected. See Alvaro Huerga, "Hip6tesis sobre Ia genesis de la 'Summa contra Gentiles,' " Angelicum, 51 (1974), 533-57, pp. 540-45.
5 Composta, for instance, rebuffs Corbin merely by adducing Leo Eider's earlier
dating for the Boethius commentary (Composta, p. 278, item (a)). Corbin opens
himself for this sort of facile criticism.
6 This makes it difficult to bring Corbin into conversation
with his predecessors.
For instance, how are Corbin's charts comparing the thematic structures of the
various works (pp. 632-33, 794-95) methodologically more secure than the similar
charts of J.-F. Bonnefoy, who wrote an illuminating comparison of the Sentences

88

MARK D. JO:Rl>AN

pears in the inconsistent use of critical editions. 7 Is the model,
once again, the autonomous reflection of Hegel's Phenomenology? Can such a model be justified in the case of an exegete?
There is a more biting question behind these, one which returns to the use of public scholarship by the speculative reader.
How much does Corbin's reading, for instance, depend on an
acquaintance with the language of Thomas which is acquired
publicly and as if a priori? Isn't Corbin's ability to read that
language thoroughly (if covertly) dependent on a long chain of
philological research, which ought frankly to be admitted
and brought to light? If Corbin's reading depends on the public
discourse of scholarship, isn't it subject to being judged by that
discourse? One might reply that the speculative reading is
taught the language of the texts in actu, by the texts themselves. But what does it mean, to learn the language from the
text itself? Isn't one trapped in the exteriority of the historian's
approach to the language-or in the pure interiority of the theological presumption which overlooks language altogether? The
fundamental question left unanswered by Corbin's description
of the lecture speculative is precisely how the lecture is possible.
What is "la lecture" within which these various readings take
their places (p.
?
Corbin wants to dissolve my aibstract questions in his concrete practice. 8 The style of Le chemin is that of a reader's
and the Summa some forty years ago? See his "La theologie comme science et
!'explication de la foi selon Thomas d'Aquin," Ephemeride!l Theologicae Lovanienses,
14 (1937)' 4!21-46, pp. 4!2!2-!24.
7 Torrell has pointed out Corbin's vacillation on the text of a passage from the
In Boethium; compare Corbin, p. 308 and n. 26, with p. 342. See the remarks in
Torrell, p. 148.
8 I don't mean to suggest that Corbin is uniquely at fault here. Lonergan seems
to follow the same path in Method in Theology. Recall a crucial point in the chapter
on interpretation: " One reaches a point when the overall view emerges, when other
components fit into the picture in a subordinate manner, when further questions
yield ever diminishing returns, when one can say just what was going forward and
back it up with the convergence of multitudinous evidence" (Method in Theology
[London: Darton, Longman, & Todd, 1972], p. 164) . Lonergan seems to be invoking
a scientific model-that of statistical emergence. Corbin might be accused of invoking a ' fideistic ' model of illumination. Is either model adequate to the complexities of reading texts?

THE MODES OF THOMISTIC DISCOURSE

89

notes. It records the uninterrupted readings 0£ texts by a
reader who faces himself primarily. But, then, the 'abstract'
questions become more urgent to the extent that the reading is
to be reflective. For all his emphasis on hermeneutics, Corbin
seems almost naive about what is fundamentally questionable
in the reading 0£ texts. His one approach to the questions is
through the axiom 0£ historical conditioning. Is it possible that
the historical conditioning occurs in virtue 0£ something else in
language which Corbin has not yet touched upon?
2. The second point to be questioned is the notion 0£ the
chemin. It is easy to think that ' chemin' appears only as a
metaphor for something plainer. But there is much more at
stake, as Corbin makes clear in the early sections on diachrony
and synchrony (pp. 57-69). The notion 0£ chemin is the operative assumption 0£ the speculative reading; without the certainty that there is a course 0£ thinking to be re-thought, the
speculative reading would move in a vacuum. It is crucial,
then, that the notion be established. Corbin insists that he
cannot do so beforehand; it is only a posteriori that one can be
convinced 0£ the continuous and homogeneous development.
But in the course 0£ the book, the argument seems sometimes
to go in the opposite direction. Corbin will sometimes argue
that his interpretation is to be preferred becaus'e it combines
continuity and discontinuity in the way required £or an itinerary. When choosing between apologetic and theological readings 0£ the Contra Gentiles, for instance, Corbin writes:
The speculative reading might think nonetheless that only the
' theological ' thesis would permit it to count the Summa against the
Gentiles within the itinerary of Thomas Aquinas, since the 'apologetic ' thesis contains a rupture which opposes itself to such inclusion. This would imply a necessary choice in favor of the former
[thesis]. But this ought also to be contested, SINCE the passage
from one stage of the itinerary to the following presupposes at once
a continuity and a discontinuity . . . (p. 512, emphasis added)

In this passage, as in others, the argument seems to move from
the presumption 0£ the chemin to a decision about the validity
0£ competing interpretations.

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MARK D. JORDAN

The reversal, questions of rigor aside, might lead one to suspect that Corbin has other motives for preferring a logical development which is also chronological. The reasons are not far
to seek on a superficial level: Corbin makes a great point of the
Hegelian notions of syllogistic deployment and mediation (p.
801, n. 62; p. 804, n. 64); he insists on the "irreversible" character of the movement along the chemin (e.g., p. 534); he
analyzes innumerable transpositions in frankly dialectical terms.
Still, it is not enough to trot out the label ' Hegelian '. There is
something more interesting in Corbin's assumption that the
logical and chronological sequences must be matched. It is,
first, another version of the assumption that language is to be
grasped by analyzing the temporal tension between conditioned
expression and unconditioned aim. But it is also, second, one of
the chief tenets of the historical reading which Corbin explicitly
rejects. I mean the claim that a later reading can take a critical
stance towards earlier texts and discern in them immanent laws
of change. From this point of view, it would be shocking to
think that what is chronologically distanced should not also be
more ' decisive '.
This tenet appears as Corbin's fourth presupposition of the
speculative reading (p. 65). When justifying it, Corbin takes
up the two alternatives-the 'unitarian' reading, which assumes that Thomas is saying the same thing everywhere, and
the 'literary' reading, which sorts the works according to discrete literary categories. Both are anti-historical and are criticized by Corbin as such. But the criticism of the literary reading is certainly not complete, though it is interesting inasmuch
as it reveals Corbin's prior commitments.
Corbin thinks that Thomas's works are arranged on a line
which is at once chronological and logical. The ' literary ' reading, by contrast, prescinds from any chronological sequence to
examine the literary type of each work. Corbin complains that
the literary reading breaks up any possibility of continuity by
fragmenting the project of the corpus.
It is certainly true that the birth of any work is marked by the

previous encounter with certain universes of thought, but no less

THE MODES OF THOMISTIC DISCOURSE

91

true that the sources alone, the circumstances of redaction alone
can never totally explain the intimate connection of a conditioned
expression and an unconditioned aim which characterizes all creation. (pp. 71-72)

Corbin is right. But he has left out of account the possibility
of studying the internal ' shapes ' of the " conditioned expressions". I am thinking of the following sort of literary reading.
It is possible to interpret the different Thomistic works as levels
or grades within an extra-temporal hierarchy of discursive
modes. The comments on the Sentences were written for a certain audience in a certain format; these are the materials for
the historicist's literary reading. But it is also true that the
Scriptum ' means ' differently than do the other works, in the
same way that a poem 'means ' differently than an essay. The
Scriptum exemplifies a mode of discourse which possesses not
only its own stylistic peculiarities, but its own semantic ' distance ' from the objects under discussion. This mode of discourse stands in fixed relations to the alternate modes in the
other works. The sum of such relations defines a hierarchy of
modes of discourse which can be taken as characteristic of
Thomas's episteme (to steal Foucault's term) 9-of a given' age'
(to slip back into historicism). This is true not only among
the works, but within each work. A given Article in the Summa,
say, may be a quartet or sextet of voices which differ not only
thematically, but semantically-differ not only in what they
mean but in how they mean it. For the exegete who is interested in recovering Thomas's thought, it becomes crucial to
grasp the hierarchy of possible modes of discourse at Thomas's
disposal. That hierarchy is the only true criterion for assessing
Thomas's work as an author-or any one of his works.
Such a literary reading eludes Corbin's criticism because it
insists, as much as he does, on the unity of corpus. It sees the
unity, however, as grounded in a hierarchy of discourses and not
in an historical flow. Corbin's assumptions are thus thrown into
• A notion used, for example, in Foucault's The Order of Things, a translation of
Les mots et les choses (New York: Vintage, 1973). Corbin cites this book (p. !'l4),
but does not apply its lessons.

MARK D. JORDAN

relief, since he seems to take for granted the exclusively temporal approach to questions of language. 10 One must now ask:
Which exegetical practice better accords with the Thomistic
noetic, an exegesis by way of a hierarchy of modes of discourse
or the exegesis predicated on historical development? To ask it
more bluntly: What better mirrors the Thomistic cosmos, a
scale of discourses about God or an historical development governed by immanent necessities? 11
3. The final line of questioning concerns Corbin's claims about
the Summa. They are first stated, in the Introduction, by way
of paradox: " at the moment when he resolves the problem of
his time technically, Thomas Aquinas introduces a new concept,
that of the theological loci, and displaces the problematic of
theology towards the study of the tradition " (p. 99, italicized
in the text) . Corbin traces the course of this doctrine through
Trent and Melchior Cano's De locis theologicis. Thomas seems
to be the father of modernity.
Near the end of the book, Corbin modifies this claim:
One must guard oneself from identifying too quickly this solution
[by Thomas], which is of such great novelty for its epoch, with the
thematization which Melchior Cano gave, in the sixteenth century,
to the theological loci ... [T]his [latter] enumeration of the loci is
inseparable from the double concern for the progress of dogmas and
the theological conclusion; the schema is formal in the immediately
logical sense of the term .... The theory of the theological loci plays
with Cano the role of a point of immediate departure received from
predecessors, and with Thomas the role of a point of mediate arrival
engendered on the basis of his itinerary. (pp. 850-51)
But Corbin does want to see the " germ " of Cano in Aquinas.
He must hold, then, that Thomas comes to " the consciousness
of the historical situation of theology in the midst of the process
1 ° Corbin does this despite his recurrent
use of phrases which might bring on a
discussion about the non-temporal structures in language. He even mentions " Orders of discourse", but does not pause over the phrase (p. 659).
11 I do not want to tax Corbin on the point of dialectic.
But there are dogmatically Hegelian slips in the book. Consider an italicized sentence from page 471:
" If the result is an accomplished result, the movement of its genesis necessarily
implies its own transformation." The book's arguments are full of such premisses.

THE MODES OF THOMISTIC DISCOURSE

98

of interpretation of the Word of God" (p. 851, italicized). Corbin thinks that Thomas has revalued the techniques of Scriptural interpretation.
In bringing back all theological argumentation under the guidance
of the literal sense alone, in refusing the thicket of ancient allegories
and the confusion which, he says, follows on them, in connecting the
seriousness of theological science to the rigor of the reading of
canonical texts, Thomas Aquinas signs at once the death certificate
of the symbolic exegesis of the Fathers and the birth certificate of
modern historical exegesis. (pp. 870-71)

The Summa in this way completes the Scholastic project as a
whole (p. 100) .
Corbin seems wrong on two counts, both when he glosses
Question 1, Article 10 of the Summa, and when he summarizes
Thomas's scriptural practice. To begin with the gloss: Corbin
mistakes, first, the import of the ad lm in the text. The objection which elicits the response can be heard in a number of ways
which vary between two poles. The first pole is that of the
convinced Aristotelian who doesn't like the vagueness of nonliteral propositions. The second pole is that of the prudent
Augustinian, who is afraid of the theological anarchy which
would follow upon the dissolution of the Biblical text in pure
equivocity. Thomas seems more interested in addressing objections near the second pole. He begins by harking back at least
to Augustine's De Doctrina Christiana and its doctrine of God's
use of things as signs.12 Does the making relative of the res/
signum distinction reduce signification to a mush? Not at all,
because theological argument (and argument in general) is to
be taken from the literal sense, upon which all other senses are
"founded". But nothing of the richness of Scripture is taken
away, "since nothing necessary to faith is contained beneath
the spiritual sense, which by the literal sense Scripture does not
manifestly give elsewhere" (1 ST q. 1 a. 10 ad lm; cf. Corbin,
pp. 870ff.) .
12 Augustine, De Doctrina Christiana, 1.2.2, the classic passage for the use of a
res as signum in divine revelation.

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MARK D. JORDAN

Is this the coroner's report on Patristic hermeneutics? Pater
Augustine had written, " the Holy Spirit has magnificently and
wholesomely modulated the Holy Scriptures so that the more
open places present themselves to hunger and the more obscure
places may deter a disdainful attitude. Hardly anything may
be found in these obscure places which is not found plainly elsewhere." 13 On the dangers of dissolving the text through overallegorization, Augustine was equally insistent. 14 One could
catalogue many more parallels between this one Article on the
Summa and De Doctrina Christiainar-as Thomas is well aware.
His reply to the objection is buttressed, after all, by a reference
to one of Augustine's epistles (which reference Corbin curiously
omits; p. 870). My point is only to suggest that there is profound continuity between Thomas and the Patristic tradition
about the practice of exegesis.15
The continuity can be seen even more clearly in what Corbin
thinks is his crowning evidence-Thomas's doctrine that theological argument can draw only upon the literal sense. Thomas
asserts, first, that nothing " fidei necessarium " is lacking from
the literal. This is a minimum statement; it forestalls esoteric
doctrines. Second, Thomas says that all the other senses are
" founded " on the literal, rest upon it. He does not say that the
18 De Doctrina Christiana, 2.6.8, from the translation by Robertson published as
On Christian Doctrine (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1965).
"De Doctrina Christiana, 3.10.15: "if the minds of men are subject to some

erroneous opinion, they think that whatever Scripture says contrary to that opinion
is figurative. But it asserts nothing except the catholic faith as it pertains to things
past, future, and present. It is a history of things past, an announcement of future
things, and an explanation of present things; but all these things are of value in
nourishing and supporting charity and in conquering and extirpating cupidity."
From Robertson's translation. The argument of the first Book of De Doctrina concerns exactly the subordination of all exegesis to the rule of charity found in the
community of believers.
15 Even if one wants to say that Thomas is to be read as the champion of the
literal sense, this must be understood within the frame of the tradition of exegesis
against which Thomas worked. If he corrected it, the correction in many ways took
for granted and approved of what had been achieved already. Beryl Smalley seems
to think this, despite her own emphasis on Thomas's work with the literal. See The
Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages (Notre Dame: Univ. of Notre Dame Press,
1970)' p. 373.

THE MODES OF THOMISTIC DISCOURSE

95

literal is the pre-eminent sense; he says that it is the foundation.
Recall Thomas's doctrine that human knowledge begins with
the senses. Does it entail that the work of the human mind is
exhausted in physics? On the contrary, that science is only the
first grade of a hierarchy which it is our work to climb. In
the same way, the literal sense is the beginning of the Scriptural
itinerarium mentis ad Deum. Finally, Thomas says that theological arguments can only be taken from the literal sense.
Neither is this an assertion of the primacy of the literal. It is,
rather, an insight into the limits of persuasion. Theological
argument is the attempt to persuade someone of the wholeness
of the revealed truth. It is necessary, then, that theological
argument move from what is most accessible. This is the literal
sense. Or, rather, our literal sense, since God's literal sense comprehends everything at once.16
But that does not raise the literal to any exalted status. One
can see this by going back to the work on the Sentences. The
fifth Article of its first Question asks whether the procedure of
theological doctrine is artifie-ialis.17 Corbin reviews the Article
(pp. 273-90), but he relegates it to an appendix which the" hurried reader " can jump over (p. 239) . In the expendable Article,
Thomas argues that the mode of discourse in theology is arti16 I ST q. I a. 10 corpus: "Now the literal sense is what the author intends; but
since the author of sacred Scripture is God, who comprehends everything at once by
his intellect, it is not inconvenient, as Augustine says, if even according to the
literal sense there be many senses in one letter of sacred Scripture."
17 A small point: Corbin renders' artificWlis' as a name for "le mode scientifique
de la theologie ... le caracter.e de rigueur et d'objective qne doit avoir sa demarche
discursive" (pp. 273-74). He cites Vincent of Beauvais, Albert the Great, and
Alexander of Hales, all of whom seem to treat 'ars' as a synonym for 'scientia '.
But Corbin is too quick in making that 'scientia' into our 'science'. He also fails
to mention that 'artificialis' had a much wider use which may be in the wings of
Thomas's discussion. In a British customary of 1266, for instance, the monks are
permitted to retain as servants only those who could do the " op ere artificiali" at
which the brothers were incompetent; Dictionary of Medieval Latin from British
Sources, comp. R. E. Latham, fasc. I (London: Oxford Univ. P., 1975), p. 133.
See also the examples under " c. Kunstgerecht" in Mittellateinisches Wiirterbuck
bis zum Ausgenenden 13 Jahrkunderts, comp. 0. Prinz & J. Schneider, vol. I
(Munich: C. H. Beck, 1967), col. 997.

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MARK D. JORDAN

ficialis by being symbolic or parabolic. Theological discourse
has three stances: one aims for the destruction of errors; the
second wants to teach men how to live; the third intends the
contemplation of truth in questions of Scripture. Corbin labels
these three stances the apologetic, the parenetic, and the speculative (p. 278). The apologetic and speculative stances, Thomas
continues, can use appropriately the types of arguments found
in the Fathers and Peter Lombard. The first stance can use, in
addition, arguments drawn from any natural analogues.
This arrangement of sources is next juxtaposed with the consideration of the four senses in Scripture. The upshot is the
claim that the literal sense can be used only by the apologetic
stance, since " no argument can be taken from locutions based
on likeness " (1 Sent. Pro. q. 1 a. 5 sol) . Corbin finds this "so
difficult and so confused" (p. 284); yet it seems clear that
Thomas is not giving pre-eminence to the literal sense or to the
argumentative mode. It is just the reverse. The three stances
of theology are ordered in a hierarchy: Apologetics is the lowest,
moral instruction the middle, and speculation the highest term.
Generally speaking, all three proceed metaphorically or symbolically, with the exception of the natural arguments in the
lowest, apologetic category. This exception is a pedagogical
concession. It reflects more on the obstinacy of the hearer than
on the value of the figural senses. Despite the progress of the
intervening works, it seems that the same concession is in
Thomas's mind when he writes Article 10 at the opening of the
Summa. It is the hierarchy of stances which explains, as Corbin
does not, why theological argument is restricted to the literal
sense when it argues.
Corbin is also mistaken, I think, in his general conclusions
about Thomas's Scriptural hermeneutics. One of the most striking things is Thomas's conservatism in the handling of the texts.
If he has no tolerance for the luxuriant interpretations of an
Abbot Joachim, he still retains the deeply ' spiritual ' reading
of the Old Testament. As de Lubac shows in some detail,
Thomas takes over the Scriptural tradition to use it faithfully,

THE MODES OF THOMISTIC DISCOURSE

97

with few and technical modifications. 18 I do not see that Corbin
has overturned this view-or that he could. The subordination
of literal, natural discourse to the analogical discourse of the
revealed is the quintessentially Thomistic understanding of any
discursive hierarchy, scriptural or ontological. It is just not
the same as the (increasingly impoverished) hierarchy of discourse prevalent at the time of Cano. The revolution Corbin
seeks comes not in Thomas, but in a later shift of discursive
modality which allowed Thomas to be re-read.
Finally, it is curious that a book which ends by emphasizing
the central place of Scriptural exegesis in Thomas neglects or
compresses treatment of his Scriptural reflections and exegetical
practice. Mustn't Corbin's thesis relegate his own book to
the status of a prolegomenon with respect to a study of the
Thomistic reading of Scripture? Don't the conclusions which
Corbin draws from the Summa dictate a return to the itinerary
of the reading of Scriptural modes of discourse?
The Summa is meant, Corbin says, to heal the rift in the
Contra Gentiles between two realms in the ascent to God. It
does this by focusing on the finite course of the revealed Word
of God as handed down in Scripture and tradition. Corbin
thinks that Thomas heals the rift by appealing to sacred texts.
If Corbin sees this as Thomas's achievement, he ought then to
ask himself how Thomas understands the ' ontology ' of texts.
A first answer would be that Thomas understands texts as privileged analogues to the Incarnation of the Son. Why does the
appeal to the sacred text heal the rift between 'natural' and
' supernatural ' ? It does so because a text embodies both fleeting sound and timeless sense, limitation of expression and illimitation of meaning. That is, of course, one of the large reasons
why Christ can meaningfully be called ' the Word '. The
Thomistic sensibility for the finitude of texts is, then, far from
18 See Henri de Lubac, Exegese medievale: Les Quatres Senses. de l'Ecriture, Second Part: II (Paris: Aubier, 1964), pp. 288-99. De Lubac quotes approvingly
from Spicq the following summary: " Ce qui distingue saint Thomas de ses contemporaines ou de ces devanciers, c'est beaucoup plus Ia qualite de son esprit que
l'originalite de sa methode ou de ses formules" (p. 294).

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MARK D. JORDAN

the modern sense of the text as an object of historical criticism.
For Thomas, the temporality of the text is hierarchically subordinated to the eternity of the divine truth-just as the temporality of the Incarnation is given sense by the prior ordering
of divine Persons and of the creation about to be redeemed. If
that is paradoxical, it is nonetheless Thomas's view. Any purely
temporal or ' horizontal ' understanding of textual finitude is to
be corrected by seeing the supra-temporal hierarchy of modes
of discourse, which speaks of God in its various tongues.

*

*

*

Let me conclude with less captious remarks. In Le chemin de
la theologie, Michel Corbin provides an example to the passionate and serious reader of Thomas's works. It is an example
of intelligence, vivacity, and honesty. If Corbin has left certain
gaps in the reading, if there are things in need of vigorous questioning still, that in no way eclipses the example. It is one
worth hearing.
MARK

University of Dallas
Irving, Texas

D. JORDAN

STAGES AND DISTINCTION IN DE ENTE*: A
REJOINDER

I

I

N A RECENTLY published article, Fr. John Wippel brings
forward an interesting claim. The De Ente et Essentia of
Aquinas, he proposes, has arrived at a real distinction between thing and being at a stage antecedent to the demonstration of God's existence. 1 However, a number of significant
historical and metaphysical tenets lie dormant in this prima
facie translucent estimate of the situation. Might not a close
look at some of them be in order before undertaking an assessment of Wippel's conclusion?
One implicit assumption, historical in bearing, soon makes
itself felt. The article seems to take for granted that mention
of real or conceptual character in the distinction should have
had some importance in the procedure of Aquinas, so much so
that the lack of explicit designation of this character may be
referred to as a "failure " (p. 294, n. 35) . Undoubtedly the
problem was given sharp emphasis in later Thomistic tradition.
But did it come into focus in this way in the writings of Aquinas
himself? In event of a negative answer, the further question
why it did not or perhaps even could not play any notable part
in his thought will have to be faced.
A second implicit tenet is metaphysical in character. It bears
on the nature of existence. Before demonstrating that God exists can we know what existence is, in a way sufficient to determine its real implications? The presumption seems made in
*Pp. 376.90-377.166.
John F. Wippel, "Aquinas's Route to the Real Distinction: A Note on De
Ente et Essentia," The Thomist, 43 (1979), 279-295. The passag.e dealt with from
De Ente, c. IV, may be found in the Leonine edition Sancti Thomae de Aquino
Opera Omnia, XLIII, 376.90-377.166.
1

99

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JOSEPH OWENS, C.SS.R.

the article that existence can be so known before the demonstration that God exists has reached its term. But i£ existence
cannot be known as having the status of a real nature in this
epistemological priority, how can one cogently deduce conclusions about it, for instance that it is really distinct from what it
is actuating? In a word, does not human apprehension of the
nature of existence coincide with the metaphysical knowledge
that God exists? Yet the claim advanced by Fr. Wippel seems
to take for granted that the nature of existence is sufficiently
knowable, prior to that demonstration, to permit the inference
of real distinction from the finite thing in which existence is
received. Can that inference at all be made before the demonstration that existence does in fact subsist as a real nature in a
unique primary instance?
A third implicit tenet, closely related to the preceding one,
is that from the content of a concept of existence one can reason
immediately or almost immediately to its conditions in reality.
The implicit supposition seems to be that the concept of existence corresponds to its object in the manner of a concept
originally obtained through simple apprehension of a quiddity.
Shades of the ontological argument at once arise, even though
here the existence, aside from the distinction, is known as real
from the start. From the concept of really distinct existence
the reasoning projected in Fr. Wippel's article would seem to
infer a distinction present in reality, somewhat as from the
nature of that than which nothing greater can be thought or of
that which is infinite in every perfection an ontological argument infers existence in the real world.
A fourth implicit tenet seems to be that the designation
" real " adequately expresses the way things are distinguished
from their being, in the metaphysical perspective of Aquinas.
Yet, against the Avicennian background of the different ways
in which things exist, a background that was common to the
metaphysics of the epoch, a thing had to be distinct from its
cognitional as well as from its real being. In the sentient cognition of a lower animal seeing a tree, would not the tree be dis-

STAGES AND DISTINCTION IN· 'DE ENTE'

101

·tinct from the cognitional. being it has acquired, even though
no human knower were forming different concepts of the two?
But on the other hand how could there be real distinction, since
no real being is involved? The distinction meant by Aquinas
between a thing and its being seems therefore to extend beyond
the range covered by the notion " real."
Each of these four seemingly implicit tenets, one may urge,
deserves separate and careful examination before proceeding to
an in-depth evaluation of the principal claim in Fr. Wippel's
article.

II
The distinction between a thing's nature and its being is in
fact mentioned frequently throughout the writings of Aquinas.
But there is no set formulation for the theme. Distinction, difference, diversity, composition, other than, over and above
(praeter), incidental to (accidit), shared by, received by, are
the phrasings used in the way the occasion may demand or the
idiom of medieval Latin may suggest. 2 Further, the wording of
the terms between which the contrast lies keeps varying. The
distinction is located between nature and being, essence and
being, quiddity and being, what a thing is and that it exists,
something and its being, or simply in the fact that the one is
not the other. 3 The formulation seems always flexible in adaptation to the circumstances of the moment.
For clarity in understanding the problems involved, one
might recall that in the doctrine already outlined in the De
Ente et Essentia (c. II) a nature or essence is abstracted in
two ways, namely either precisively or non-precisively. Precisive abstraction cuts off and excludes the individuality with2 For instances, see L. Sweeney, "Existence/Essence
in Thomas Aquinas's Early
Writings," Proceedings of the American Catholic Philosophical Association, 37
(1963)' 105-131.
3 Care should be taken to avoid the later formulation of the terms as esse essentiae
and esse existentiae. They would coincide if Aquinas's acceptation of esse were
applied to them. On this point see my article "The Number of Terms in the
Suarezian Discussion on Essence and Being," The Modern Schoolman, 34 (1957),
150-190. On res as a term, see infra, n.

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JOSEPH OWENS, c.ss.R.

out which the nature or essence cannot exist in the real world.
Non-precisive abstraction does not exclude the individuality,
even while abstracting from it. 4 Since whatever exists in reality
is individual, there is no difficulty in seeing that the question
of real distinction bears immediately on the nature as individualized in its particular instances. In this perspective the real
distinction of nature or essence from being is the distinction
between the thing itself and its being. In meaning, therefore,
these formulations coincide. The individuality cannot be prescinded from when there is question of distinction in reality.
Aquinas can of course without hesitation, in accord with his
sources in the Latin Avicenna, contrast humanity, as Scotus
does equinity, with its being. 5 That is an accepted way of
speaking. But if the natures so designated are considered as they
exist in reality, where real distinction can apply, they coincide
with the thing itself. However, from the time of Descartes's
clear and distinct ideas the tendency has been to consider mental concepts as the immediate and direct object of human
intellection, and to look for clearcut precision in them. The
impression thereby given is t,hat a self-contained and finished
whole, called the nature or essence, is a term in the distinction.
In consequence the interests of clarity are better served today
by using the concrete, non-precisive terminology. The distinction calls for phrasing through contrast of thing with being. In
point of fact, Aquinas's notion of non-precisive abstraction is
hardly known at all today. "Nature" and "essence" accordingly become misleading. The use of a concrete expression, a
" thing," seems imperative in order to make clear that nature
or essence is here being understood in the sense in which
• See De Ente, c. II; p. 373.243-308. Cf. In I Sent., d. 23, q. 1, a. 1, Solut.; ed.
Mandonnet, I, 555-557. "Quamvis enim genera et species non subsistant nisi in
individuis, quorum est esse, tamen determinatio essendi fit ex natura vel quidditate
superiori." Ibid., p. 556.
5 Cf. " ...
potest enim intelligi humanitas, et tamen dubitari, utrum homo
habeat esse." In I Sent., d. 8, exp. lae partis textus; I, 209. " ... potest enim
cogitari humanitas et tamen ignorari an aliquis homo sit." Ibid., q. 4, a. 3, Solut.;
I, 222.

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"Socrates is an essence" (De Ente, c. II, p. 373.806; Maurer
trans.).
On four occasions, though each time in treating of other
topics, Aquinas does use the designation " real " or its equivalent to characterize the diversity or difference or composition
or otherness of the thing and its being. 6 On a further occasion,
likewise incidentally in dealing with another theme, he explains
the distinction between being and quiddity in the way the rational aspect is distinguished from the animal aspect in man. 7
That distinction surely arises from the two different concepts,
one specific, the other generic, that the human mind forms to
enable it to understand the one real nature. In the epistemology
of Aquinas it is clearly enough a conceptual distinction. The
passage in which it occurs in the commentary on the Sentences
parallels exactly the opening lines from which the reasoning in
the De Ente passage starts. That should be enough to mark
the initial distinctions as conceptual. Wippel does not contest
this view, but rather sees in it the starting point of a reasoning
process that will conclude to a real distinction at a further
n. 9) that the argumenstage. He acknowledges (pp.
tation is continuous throughout the whole passage. From the
distinction conceived between a thing (a man, a phoenix) and
its being, the reasoning proceeds without interruption in the
direction of a real distinction. That is all conceded. The one
point at issue is the exact stage at which the real distinction is
reached.
For the moment, the consideration to be stressed is that the
basis from which the conceptual distinction is taken somehow
offers premises from which a real distinction may be inferred. 8
6 " ••• diversitas realis "-In I Sent., d. 13, q. 1, a. 8, Solut. (I, 807); "differt ...
re quidem "-ibid., d. 19, q. 2, a. 2, Solut. (I, 471); "compositum reali compositione "-De Ver., XXVII, 1, ad 8; "differunt realiter "-In Boeth. de llebd., lect. II,
Calcaterra no. 82. Cf. "Si enim esset aliud realiter "-ibid., no. 83.
• " ... sicut rationale dicitur animali accidere." In I Sent., d. 8, exp. lae partis
textus; I, 209. Here "man" is the example. "Phoenix" and. "eclipse" are the
examples at In II Sent., d. 8, q. 1, a. 1, Solut.; II, 87.
8 This may be compared
with the way the distinction between universal and,
particular, a conceptual distinction, requires real diversity. between being and na·

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Correspondingly, that real distinction will presuppose a conceptual distinction in the way a conclusion presupposes its
premises. This will mean that wherever and in whatever phraseology Aquinas refers to the distinction as real or describes it as
conceptual, the one implies the other for real things. Hence
there need be small wonder that on the overwhelming majority
of the occasions on which he mentions the distinction between
thing and being, he does not show the least interest in specifying whether it is real or conceptual. If it is the one, it is also
the other. Outside the five occasional instances just noted, in
which the distinction is presented as real in four and conceptual
in the fifth, there was no call for the specification. Omission of
it elsewhere is neither negligence nor anomaly. Aquinas could
have had little if any interest in stating explicitly whether the
distinction was real or conceptual. Given the way each implies
the other in this particular case, mention of the real or conceptual character was not a matter of concern.
Nevertheless, the question does have keen interest for us today, in the wake of controversies that began some two years
after the death of Aquinas. The implications of a conceptual
distinction in the case of being and thing demand close scrutiny.
To a present-day reader the problem how a conceptual distinction can in a particular case cogently imply a real distinction
may indeed seem a hurdle. It was not so for Aquinas, as may
be seen in the example cited above (n. 8) . There the conceptual
distinction between the universal and the particular required
real distinction between quiddity and being. The two cases of
course are not exactly parallel. In the one the terms quiddity
and being do not coincide with the other two, the universal and
the particular. In the present case, on the other hand, the terms
are the same for both real and conceptual distinction. In another case that comes to mind in the context of Aquinas, the
reasoning process quite obviously starts from a distinction: conture: "Ad hoc enim quod sit universale et particulare, exigitur aliqua diversitas
realis ... quidditatis communicabilis, et esse quod proprhim
fo l .$erit., d, 13,
q. I, !\. 3, Solut.; 11 307,

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ceived between substance and faculties. It arrives at the
sion that there is real difference between the same two terms. 9
But the force of the reasoning depends upon the distinction
between thing and being, throwing the question back to the
way the concept of being matches the actuality to which it
refers. Does it, in a word, portray its object in the exactly
fitting way in which concepts immediately conform to the natures of sensible things?
The first problem, then, bears on the way the concepts of
nature and of existence are obtained. In the De Ente, as in the
passages from the commentary on the Sentences cited above
(n. 7), the starting point is located in real objects such as a
man, or in imaginary ones such as a phoenix. In these you can
know what the thing is without thereby knowing whether it
exists in reality. In regard to the phoenix, the inference is obvious. You can know that a phoenix is a bird that burns itself
to ashes every few hundred years and rises rejuvenated, without
knowing that one ever existed in the real world. You can know
what Socrates was, a man spoken of prominently in Greek history, without knowing that he ever really existed. His real
existence in the accepted physical and mental cast has, in fact,
been denied and explained away. 10 Similarly you can know
what Prester John was, without knowing whether he existed in
the course of real history. Knowledge of quiddity does not give
knowledge of real existence. You know immediately, of course,
that each of these things exists in your own cognition while you
9 The conclusion is: "et inter essentiam et talem operationem cadit virtus media
differens ab utroque, in creaturis etiam realiter, in Deo ratione tantum." In I Sent.,
d. 7, q. 1, a. 1, ad 2m; I, 177. The difference between the two is shown to be also
real in creatures, though only conceptual in God. The relation between essence and
existence is a necessary step in the reasoning. On the difficulties in the question,
see A. Rozwadowski, "Distinctio potentiarum a substantia, secundum doctrinam
Sancti Thomae," Gregorianum, 16 (1935), 273-281, who notes the connection with
the essence-existence problem-" connectitur enim necessario cum compositione ex
essentia et esse" (p. 272)-and in regard to one of the arguments the origin in concepts-" Haec fluere videntur ex ipsis conceptibus actus et potentiae" (p. 276).
10 So Eugene Dupree!, La legende socratique et les sources de Platon
(Brussels:
Robert Sand, 1922), pp. 323-334; 421-426. " ... le Socrate parfait n'est que la
projection animee du dialogue parfait." p. 830.

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are thinking about it. But the quiddity itself tells you nothing
about its existence in other people's cognition. Presumably,
therefore, not even the knowledge of its existence in your own
mind comes from the quiddity, for if contained in the quiddity
it would restrict the thing's existence to that particular instance. Existence in your mind would be essential to it.
This last consideration has even wider range. It provides
the answer to the objection that existence might be contained
within the nature but elude our scrutiny just as specific essences
do. The inclusion of existence within the nature would have
the Parmenidean consequences of leaving but one being in all
reality. The individual existents about which the question
arises would have been absorbed. The bough upon which one
is sitting for the discussions would have been sawed off. Here
seems to lie "the importance of this part of Thomas's argumentation" (stressed by Wippel, p. 279) , rather than in any
immediate conclusion of real distinction. Its function is to universalize the assertion that a thing is not its own existence, with
but one, and as yet hypothetical, exception. The possibility
that existence like specific essence may be eluding our concept
while all the while present in the nature itself is in this way set
aside.
What is the epistemology that lies back of these considerations? It is etched in clearcut lines in the commentary on the
Sentences, a work of the same early period as the De Ente.
What a thing is, is grasped through conceptualization, known
to Aquinas by designations taken from Latin translations of
the Moslems, and called by him "the first operation of the
intellect." That the thing exists, is apprehended through judgment, again known through translated Arabic terms and called
" the second operation of the intellect," with the order of
" first " and " second " taken from their remote background in
Aristotle. 11 Accordingly a thing is known from the aspect of its
nature or essence through conceptualization, in non-precisive or
11 De An., III 6, 430a
See Aquinas, In I Sent., d. 19, q. 5, a. 1, ad 7m; I,
489. Ibid., d. 38, q. 1, a. 3, Solut.; I, 903. In IV Metaph., lect. 6, Cathala no. 605.

STAGES AND DISTINCTION IN 'DE ENTE'

107

precisive abstraction. That is all a concept just of itself gives.
The existence the nature happens to have is not given in the
concept, but is grasped through the further and always concomitant activity of judgment. The existence is not known originally through a concept. But what is originally known through
judgment can be subsequently conceptualized as something,
and represented in conceptualization as that which makes the
thing exist or as the actuality of all actualities and the perfection of all perfections. 12 In this mediate way a concept of it is
formed, for purposes of thought about it and discussion in its
regard. The content of the two concepts can then be compared
and the distinction between them probed. The concepts at
once appear distinct from each other. The one is of the actuality, the existence. The other is of the potentiality, the nature.
To this extent they have objects that parallel the shape of the
table, on the one hand, and the wood on the other. But the
actuality (energeia) or perfection (entelecheia) expressed in the
concept of existence does not surpass in its nature the quidditative perfection known through simple apprehension and already explained by Aristotle in terms of form. A combination
like " actuality of all actualities " is required to pinpoint it in
Aquinas to the actuality originally known through judgment.
It then refers to existence, but without capacity to express just
by itself the fact that something exists. Yet that fact was the
actuality originally escaping all conceptualization and grasped
only through judgment's synthetic knowing. Now conceived as
the actuality of all actualities it is obviously an object different
from a finite nature. That suffices for assertion of two conceptually distinct objects.
But is it enough to show at once their real distinction in the
thing? Hardly. Could they not be two different aspects of one
and the same reality, somewhat as for Aquinas individuality is
12 See De Pot., VII, 2, ad 9; ST, I, 3, 4, c; In I Periherm., lect. 5, Spiazzi no. 73.
On the identity of fact and actuality here see F. Wilhelmsen, " Existence and Esse,"
The Neu> Scholasticism, 50 (1976), 20-45. For the contemporary problematic in
regard to judgment and existence, see Ambmse McNicholl, " On Judging Existence,"
The Thomist, 43 (1979), 507-580.

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conceptually distinct from nature while not really distinct from
it? Other thinkers have drawn other conclusions. In the approach of Duns Scotus, for instance, there is formal distinction
between individuality and common nature in the thing itself,
while in Suarez existential being and essential being, though conceptually distinct, are identical in reality. In this case conceptual distinction, just in itself, would seem neither to imply nor
to exclude real difference between its terms.
For the purposes of the present discussion, then, there is
agreement between Fr. Wippel and myself that the distinction
made in the first stage of the .De Enfe passage requires further
reasoning in order to arrive at the conclusion that a thing is
really other than its being. There is also agreement that the
reasoning is continuous throughout the passage. The question
at issue is at what stage the real distinction is reached, even
though explicit mention of it had no interest for Aquinas himself.

III
A second implicit tenet that requires attention centers on the
nature of existence. In accord with the epistemology of Aquinas,
already developed at the time (supra, nn. 11-12), existence is
not originally grasped as a nature. It eludes the type of apprehension that gives knowledge of what things are. Only when
subsistent existence is reached is it known to be a nature. More
precisely for present purposes, uncaused existence becomes
known first as existence, now attained as a thing and a nature
in its highest instance (aliqua res que sit causa essendi omnibus
rebus eo quod ipsa est esse tantum-De Ente, c. IV; p. 377.139141). This nature cannot be known by route of mere conceptualization. The route has to be through reasoning from the
actuality known in judgment. As a result, the nature so reached
cannot be expressed by way of concepts, any more than could
the actuality originally grasped through judgment in sensible
things. This allows one to see why the concept of existence has
been so readily regarded as an empty concept, a blank, an absurdity. The concept of existence cannot express the nature to

STAGES AND DISTINCTION IN <DE ENTE'

109

which it refers. That nature, the first cause, God, eludes our
conceptualization. 13 If we are trying to know what existence is
in the way we know what finite things are, we cannot help but
draw a blank. The nature of existence cannot be the immediate
object of a human concept.
Yet to be known as really distinct from the nature it actuates,
will not existence first have to be recognized as having in itself
the status of a real nature? If it is not yet known to be a real
nature, could it not appear merely as an aspect of something
that has already been grasped intellectually through conceptualization in regard to its nature, and now is grasped from
another angle through judgment? Could not the same identical
entity be known as quidditative through one intellectual operation and as existent through another? Could not the difference
arise merely from the twofold activity of the mind in regard to
one and the same real nature, without involving any addition
whatever in reality? That is the way a nature, even when nonprecisively abstracted, is differentiated from its individuation.
Why could not its existence remain distinguished from it in just
that way, conceptually? The object would be the same in
reality, but the two different views would round out a complete
picture of it, somewhat as differently tinted plates produce a
fully colored print of the one real scene? The same real object
would be known through conceptualization as a man, and
through judgment as existing.
Only after existence has been known to be a real nature does
the impossibility of this situation become apparent. As a real
nature existence is infinite and unique. It is all-embracing.
Where it is found really in other things, it has to be really over
and above their natures. It has to be really different from the
things themselves. But the distinction cannot be at all visual13 " Deus, formationem intellectus nostri subterfugit."
In Ill Sent., d. 24, a. 2,
Solut. l; ed. Moos, III, 768 (no. 51). On" formatio" in the sense of conceptualizatiqn here, see M.-D. Chenu, "Un vestige du stoicisme,'' Revue des sciences philosophiques et theologiques, 27 (1938), 67, n. 3. Cf. "We have no quidditative knowledge of God," A. C. Pegis, "Penitus Manet lgnotum," Mediaeval Studies, 27 (1965),
flfl5.

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c.ss.n.

ized or immediately observed. We can only know that its two
terms are really distinct, without intuiting what the distinction
is. The route is through existence. Knowledge of the distinction parallels quite significantly the way we can know that
goodness and the other perfections are to be found in God,
without knowing what they are in God since in him they are
existence itself.l 4 The nature of the existence found in creatures
through participation is not to be found in the efficiently caused
actuality but rather in God. Against this epistemological background Aquinas can accept the patristic assertion (Dionysius,
Bernard) that God is the existence of all things. 15
To know that existence is a nature, then, is to have proved
metaphysically that God exists. The two formulations are but
the obverse and converse sides of the same coin. They designate
the same reasoning process. This should indicate emphatically
that a real distinction between a thing and its being cannot be
shown until after completion of the demonstration that God
exists. Only then is one in a position to see that existence cannot coalesce in reality with any finite thing. It cannot enter in
reality into the thing's nature, nor be regarded as a part (De
Ente, p. 376.97) of that nature, without entailing the Parmenidean consequences. It has to remain really other than the
thing.
But what about the objection that all commentators do not
regard the reasoning in the De Ente as a proof for the existence
of God? Gilson is mentioned by Wippel (p. 9!80, n. 4) for this
stand. Yet Gilson does not question the cogency and the valid14 "Quicquid autem est in Deo, hoc est suum proprium esse." De Ver., II, 11, c.
" Id quod bonitatem dicimus in creaturis, praeexistit in Deo, et hoc quidem secundum modum altiorem." ST, I, 13, '2, c. " ... in eo praeeistit vita, licet eminentiori
modo quam intelligatur vel significetur." Ibid., ad 2m. Wippel, " Metaphysics and
Separatio according to Thomas Aquinas," Review of Metaphysics, 31 (1978), 440,
allows "some role" in knowing existence to judgment. The texts, however, seem
to assign it the entire role in the immediate intellectual apprehension of existence.
15 "Et ideo esse divinum dicitur esse omnium rerum, a quo omne esse creatum
effective et exemplariter manat." In I Sent., d. 8, q. 1, a. 2, Solut.; I, 198. Cf.
Gerald B. Phelan, "The Being of Creatures," in Selected Papers, ed. Arthur G.
Kirn (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 1967), pp. 83-94.

STAGES AND DISTINCTION IN 'DE ENTE'

Ill

ity of the reasoning to God in the De Ente. Rather, in a change
of view from previous acceptance of it as a Thomistic proof for
God's existence, he maintained that historically it had not been
presented by Aquinas here in that guise, but only as a part of
a process showing that there is composition in the angels. Gilson, however, acknowledges that there is disagreement among
the commentators on the point. 16
The grounds Gilson offers for his later position are two. The
first is that the reasoning is not included in the lists of proofs
formally offered in the Summa Theologiae and the Contra Gentiles, or under the corresponding heading (Quod Deus sit) in
the Compendium Theologiae, and that its operative factor, existence (esse), does not play that role in those versions. 17 The
second ground is that for Aquinas a proof for God's existence
has to start from sensible things in the real world, whereas the
reasoning in the De Ente passage starts from a distinction between essence and existence, obviously not something sensible.18
With regard to the first ground, all reasoning processes not
explicitly listed under the heading" that God exists," are automatically ruled out of the demonstration for God's existence
properly so called (proprement dite). All the passages in the
commentary on the Sentences usually brought forward in this
regard are thereby set aside.19 The arguments listed there (In
16 "J'ai done cesse de tenir cet argument pour une preuve proprement <lite de
l'existence de Dieu .... il y a desaccord entre les interpretes de saint Thomas sur
ce point." E. Gilson, "Trois
sur le probleme de l'existence de Dieu,"
Divinitas, V (1961), 28. See also p. 27. On the retractation, cf. sixth edition of his
Le Thomis.me (Paris: Vrin, 1965), p. 97, n. 85. There, however, Gilson acknowledges the presence of the new notion of esse that makes the Five Ways transcend
their sources: " saint Thomas ne p.eut pas ne pas avoir presente a la pensee cette
notion nouvelle de l'esse, qui va lui permettre de transcender, meme dans l'ordre
purement philosophique, les points de vue de ses predecesseurs les plus illustres"
(p. 97) . This should modify somewhat the effect of the earlier blunt statement:
" ... la notion clef d'esse, ou acte d'etre, n'est invoquee dans aucune d'entre
elles." Gilson, "La preuv.e du ' De ente et essentia,' " Docf-Or Com1111Unis, ID
(1950)' 258.
17 Art. cit., Doctor Communis, p. 258; Divinitas, p. 27.
18 Art. cit., Doctor Communis, p. 258; Divinitas, p. 28.
1 • " ••• pourtant,
ni dans Pierre Lombard ni dans le commentaire de saint

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JOSEPH OWENS,

c.ss.It.

I Sent., d. 3, div. lae partis textus; ed. Mandonnet, I, 88) as
taken from Dionysius and presented as " ways of reaching God
from creatures" (vias deveniendi ex creaturis in Deum), with
reception of existence (esse) explicitly as their operative notion,
do not meet the test, apparently because they are not included
formally in the list of the Five Ways of the Summa Theologiae.
The Aristotelian proof from motion, as given with the intermediate conclusion " and this is God " (et hie est Deus-In I
Sent., d. 8, q. 3, a. 1, Praeterea sicut; I, 211) was rejected by
Gilson because it is formally given as a prooi for the immutability of God, even though the cogency of its reasoning was unquestioned. Similarly the reasoning in the Contra Gentiles that
parallels the Third Way of the Summa Theologiae is not to he
classed under the proofs for the existence of God, though it may
readily be adapted to that status by a little making over, and
has in fact been cast in the form of a genuine proof for God's
existence by Aquinas himself as one of the Five Ways. But as
it stands in the Summa Contra Gentiles it is not a proof of
God's existence, but rather of something else concerning God. 20
Thomas, on ne trouve de demonstration proprement <lite de cette verite, que Dieu
existe." Gilson, art. cit., Divinitas, p. 29.
20 " Cette demonstration n'a pas trouve place dans la Somme contte les Gentils."
Gilson, Le Thomisme (6th ed.), p. 80. "Cette troisieme voie ne figurait pas dans
le Contra Gentiles." Art. cit., Divinitas, p. 33. Yet "on en trouve un exact
equivalent dans la premiere des deux Sommes, seulement, au lieu de s'y trouver au
livre I, ch.13, avec !es autres preuves de !'existence de Dieu, il se trouve au livre·
II, ch. 15, par. 6, OU saint Thomas etablit que Dieu est pour tons les etres la
cause de leur existence .... C'etait une preuve de Dieu tout faite; rien n'empechait
saint Thomas de l'ajouter aux autres; il s'est contente plus tard de l'inserer dans
la Summa Theologiae, comme l'une des cinq voies." Ibid. Meeting a situation
created by Geny, Gilson allows that "saint Thomas !'a serieusement retouche pour
en faire une preuve de !'existence de Dien." But the retouching seems to consist
iii making explicit the starting point in sensible things, serious enough from the
perspective in which Gilson was writing. In any case it remained an "exact
equivalent."
The 'version in CG, I, 15, Amplius, in going on to prove that God is eternal,
formulates the intermediate conclusion "Et hoc Deus est" quite as CG, II, 15,
Praeterea, formulates it " Et hoc est Deus." Similarly the proofs given in In I Sent.,
d. 3, div. Jae partis textus, (I, 88 and 89), have "et hoc est Deus," and in d. 8,
q. 3, a.l, Praeterea (I, 211), "et hie est Deus," .fully in accord with the wording
of the De Ente (p. 377.146) passage "hoc est causa prima quae Deus est." This

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Gilson's meaning here is quite obviously that the reasonings
he rejects as proofs for God's existence do not occur under St
Thomas's listing in the Five Ways of the Summa Theologiae.
That is undoubtedly a fact, and the consequences drawn are
those of an historian of philosophy in his role as such. But
there is no questioning whatever of the demonstrative character
of the reasoning to the intermediate conclusion that God exists.
As is evident from the handling of the argument in Contra Gentiles II, 15, the reasoning can readily be given independent status and listed under the proofs of God's existence. Aquinas
himself did this in case of the Contra Gentiles argument. Why
could it not have been done just as easily in all the other cases?
We can do it today, and even extend considerably the number
of headings for the demonstration that God exists. 21 But we do
that on our own responsibility. We must scrupulously avoid
attributing it to Aquinas. We have no right to classify the reasonings in those cases as Thomistic proofs that God exists. That
is the rationale of the case.
One may or may not agree with this meticulous precision in
dealing historically with the thought of Aquinas. Undoubtedly
way of concluding the proof is that of Maimonides, The Guide of the Perplexed,
II, l; trans. Shlomo Pines (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1963), p. 248.
It is a rational conclusion that follows cogently from the reasoning. For a different
view see: " The decisive words ' Et hoc est Deus ' are those of a Christian theologian, and they contrast with the ' quod omnes dicunt Deum esse' of article 3
which are those of various philosophers committed to nothing but reason." Edward
Sillem, Ways of Thinking about God (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1961), p. 102.
Sillem (p. 76) is defending the stand that the Five Ways do not conclude immediately to the existence of God. The case that their reasoning is metaphysically
that of the De Ente passage is presented in my article " Aquinas and the Five
Ways," The Monist, 58 (1974), 16-35. In point of fact, the cogency of the reasoning in the De Ente is unhesitatingly acknowledged by Gilson: " Cet argument est
d'une force saisissante." Art. cit., Doctor Communis, p. 257. The point is just that
the argument does not meet Gilson's conditions for classification as a formal proof
for God's existence.
21 They are grouped under eleven headings, with the instances or varieties of
each, by Jules A. Baisnee, "St. Thomas Aquinas's Proofs of the Existence of God
Presented in their Chronological Order," in Philosophical Studies in Honor of the
Very Reverend Ignatius Smith, O.P., ed. John K. Ryan (Westminster, Md.: Newman Press, 1952), pp. 63-64.

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fact should be kept care£ully distinguished from interpretation.
Bllt for many, history of philosophy will be much more than
recording historical facts. Understanding them is part of the
process, and here the facts have to be understood philosophically. Understanding the demonstrative force of these reasonings in themselves as proofs of God's existence will in this
perspective come under the work of the historian of philosophy.
While today one cannot list them under Aquinas's own headings
for the demonstration that God exists, one can understand their
cogency and validity for attaining that conclusion even within
the particular contexts in which they are historically found.
This first ground does not militate at all against their demonstrative character, but only against placing them formally under
the lists drawn up by Aquinas himself.
The second ground is more complicated and significant. There
is no difficulty in taking its premises at their full force. They
are that a Thomistic demonstration of God's existence starts
from sensible things actually being encountered in the real external world, and that the distinction between a thing and its
being is not something sensible. 22 But the application of these
two considerations is not as simple as may appear at first sight.
Sensible things are immediately perceived to exist. Aquinas has
no hesitation in recognizing the judgment of the senses. 23 Judgment is for him the awareness of existence, on the sensible as
well as the intellectual level. Through sensation, accordingly,
one is immediately aware that things do exist. Senses, of course,
do not distinguish between things and their being. Nevertheless
they give immediate cognition of both. In that perspective existence is immediately sensed and known, and then inferred to
come from something else and ultimately from subsistent existence. Only then is its nature reached, in contrast to quiddita•• " Saint Thomas part d'une evidence physique et sensible . . . La distinction
d'essence et d'existence, au contrairie, n'est pas une constatation sensible .... Cette
distinction ne pouvait done etre au point de depart des preuves thomistes de
l'existence de Dieu." Gilson, art. cit., Doctor Communw, p. 258.
• 3 Texts on this point
may be found gather.ed in my article "Judgment and
Truth in Aquinas," Mediaeval, Studies, 32 (1970), pp. 138-147.

STAGES AND DISTINCTION IN 'DE ENTE'

115

tive natures that are grasped imm.ediately through conceptualization.
It is in this context that one should understand Gilson's
statement about the most highly abstract character of the metaphysical knowledge by which existential actuality taken in
itself is grasped, and its equivalence with the answer to the
question "What is God?" 24 This is what has been referred to
in the above discussion as " the nature of existence," identified
with God. There is explicit ground in Aquinas for calling God
"abstract existence" (esse abstractum) .25 Understood as a
nature in this way, existence is of course not immediately perceived by the senses nor immediately known by the intellect.
But that sense of " abstract existence " is not what is found at
the beginning of the
Ente passage. Rather, the existence
meant there is not something that comes by way of formal sequence or quidditative origin. It is existence that has been
caused efficiently (causatum ... sicut a causa efficiente--.p.
377.132-133). That assertion is emphatic in the text, and makes
explicit what was understood at the start. The existence distinguished from man or phoenix was the real existence of the
man caused in the sensible world, or, to add for the sake of
completion, the cognitional existence of the man or phoenix
caused efficiently by the knower. In neither case was there
question of anything that could be grasped originally by way
of a concept and distinguished as thing from thing as with Giles
of Rome. It was existence originally known through judgment,
existence really and actually present in the sensible world, in
the man and in the one who was imagining the phoenix.
One need merely make explicit what is implicit in the starting
point of all these reasonings to God's existence, in order to have
""Pris en Iui-meme, cet aete n'est accessible qu'a !'abstraction metaphysique
la plus haute. II est Ia reponse ultime a la question: qu'est-ce que Dieu?" Gilson,
art. cit., Divinitas, p. 28.
25 " Sola Dei substantia
est ipsum esse abstractum." De Subst. Sep., c. 14; ed.
Leonine, XL, D65.44-45. Cf. "in divinis idem est abstractum et concretum," ST,
I, 40, 1, ad lm, and the use of "res abstractas" for separate substances at In II
Metaph., Iect. 1, Cathala no. 286.

ll6

JOSEPH OWENS,

c.ss.n.

the Thomistic form of argument required by Gilson. They are
all based on existence known through judgment, existence found
in sensible things. An argument like that of Anselm, based on
the concept of real existence contained in the greatest of all
perfections, would never be acceptable to Aquinas. Something
has to be found existing before the reasoning can start. To
express this formally, one would have to commence the De Ente
reasoning with " Men are found existing in the sensible world,
phoenixes in the imagination," and then go on to show that in
neither case is the existence contained in what the thing itself
is. The formal requirement for a proof that God exists is then
satisfied. Again, the explicit addition is ours, and is not to be
attributed to the text of Aquinas. But the cogency of the
demonstration was there from the beginning.
This is hardly a nego majorem in regard to the second ground
urged by Gilson. It is rather a difference in ground rules. In a
particular baseball park there may be a rule that a fair hit
bouncing over a close outfield fence is a double. Normally any
fair hit on which the batter can reach home plate without being halted or tagged is a home run. But special circumstances
may demand special ground rules. Gilson was understandably
alarmed at the prospect of Thomistic proofs for God's existence, in the wake of Del Prado's widely read book, finding
their basis in a real distinction between essence and existence. 26
Hence the insistence on explicit inclusion of a starting point in
sensible things. Even the Contra Gentiles (II, 15) passage had
26 "Unde
quinque viae, quibus Deum esse evidenter probari potest, videntur
esse sicut quinque scalae fixae in creaturis et stantes super realem compositionem
actus et potentiae in linea entis ... " Norbert de! Prado, De Veritate Fundamentuli
Philosophiae Christianae (Fribourg: Consoc. Sancti Pauli,1911), pp. XLU-XLIII.
This attitude still continues: "in the Scripta we encounter a proof of God's existence, different from the Five Ways, based exclusively on Aquinas's new understanding of being (esse) and on the real distinction between essence and esse in
creatures." B. Mondin, St. Thomas Aquinas' Philosophy in the Commentary to
the Sentences (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1975), p. 56. Gilson's (art. cit., Doctor Communis, p. 257) immediate target was "En verite, ii n'y a pas de preuve
plus directe ni plus profonde de !'existence de Dieu que la distinction reelle entre
!'essence des choses et leur existence." Martin Stanislaus Gillet, Thomas d'Aquin
(Paris: Dunod, 1949), p. 67.

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117

to be made over for listing under the Five Ways. Any such
reasoning, no matter how valid in itself, was under the circumstances barred from home run status, even though without the
ground rule it would allow the runner to reach home plate
safely.
For purposes of the present discussion, then, the doubt raised
by Wippel on Gilson's authority may be disregarded. In point
of fact, Wippel himself (p. 292, n. 31) accepts the reasoning in
the De Ente passage as a proof for God's existence. The doubt
seems raised only for polemic reasons against the opposed stand
that makes acceptance of real distinction in De Ente depend
upon prior demonstration that God exists. Demonstration of
real distinction without demonstration of God's existence would
avoid the possible hurdle that could arise from insistence on
Gilson's authority in this area. Yet once it has been shown that
Gilson brings no objections against the cogency of the demonstrative force in the De Ente passage, the hurdle disappears of
itself. Hence this explanation has been necessary for the case
that inference of real distinction here depends on the demonstration that existence is a nature, even though the point is not
crucial in Wippel's own stand.

IV
The third seemingly latent tenet listed above (Section I)
concerns reasoning to the real world from the content of a concept. From the concept of real existence can you immediately
infer real distinction of the existence from the subject in which
it inheres? In the De Ente reasoning the initial existence is undoubtedly envisaged as real (an esse habeat in rerum naturap. 376.101). It has already been shown to be conceptually distinct from the real thing. On those two points there is no
dispute. But what remains open to question is whether the
distinction between the real existence and the real thing is itself
also real or only· conceptual.
In the first two examples given in the text (p. 376.105-110)
the relevant distinctions would lie between generic nature and

HS

JOSEPH OWENS, c.ss.R.

specific nature, and between specific nature and the individual.
These are clearly conceptual distinctions. The third (.110-111),
that of heat from its subject, would be real in real things since
heat is a predicamental accident. But for the moment the text
is concerned only with the distinction ;between separate heat
and participated heat, and not with the distinction between
participated heat and its subject. Unquestionably anyone who
acknowledges either positively or hypothetically that God is the
sole being whose essence and existence coincide will concede
distinction between the two in all other beings. But what kind
of distinction? The distinction may be real as res from res
(Giles of Rome), or intentional (Henry of Ghent), or conceptual (Suarez). For all these thinkers the existence of creatures
is real and is distinct from its subject. Yet the tenet of identity
in God, held by them all, does not universally guarantee real
distinction between the two in creatures. Something else appears required for that conclusion.
What is the something else? If the conclusion is to be drawn
prior to the demonstration that existence is a real nature, will
not the ground have to be a requirement in the very concept of
real existence? But does the concept of real existence show
immediately any real distinction from thing? In the present
reasoning process would not an opponent of real distinction see
a petitio principii in the inference of real distinction from the
identity of the two in God? Only if the distinction had already
been accepted as real in creatures would the identity of the two
in God mean real difference elsewhere.
This seems to parallel Aquinas's rejection of the Anselmian
argument. The procedure, nevertheless, is not so obvious. Here,
different from the ontological interpretation given the Anselmian argument by Aquinas, the existence from the start is
real and is known as real. Yet the reality of the distinction is
not apparent in the premises. It is not known as a distinction
between two realities (res and res) . One of the terms, existence,
is not known originally as a res. It is not an immediate object
of conceptualization, though this would seem to be implied in
the emphasis deliberately given by Giles of Rome to the

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sity of distinguishing existence from essence as one reality from
another. 27 For Aquinas, on the contrary, existence in a creature
can hardly be considered as a further reality. 28 That reality
01 Edgar Hocedez notes that except for a passing expression in which esse is referred to as an essence added to the essence of a creature, there is no reason to
believe that Giles conceived existence as an essence: " Sauf une expression fugitive,
rien ne fait croire que Gilles corn;oive formellement l'esse comme une essence."
Aegidii Romani Theoremata de Esse et Essentia (Louvain: Museum Lessianum,
1980), p. 55. Naturally it had to be conceived as other than existence in order to
make the contrast. But the question here is whether it is immediately attained by
a concept, or whether it has to be referred to by concepts taken from essence. It
has to be conceived as a thing, and on one occasion Aquinas does refer to it as a
thing: " ... esse rei quaedam res cr.eata est." De Ver., I, 4, ad 4m; ed. Leonine.
Yet to conclude from concept to reality would require an immediate concept of
existence. For the case that one may so reason see: "The argument appears to
show a conclusion about the real world from something that occurs in knowledge .
. . . Thus, in this context for something to be understood to be so is also foir it to
be so." Joseph Bobik, Aquinas on Being and Essence (Notre Dame: University of
Notre Dame Press, 1965), pp. 167-168.
28 Res is used by Aquinas at times for the term that is distinguished from being.
See "Res ergo composita non est suum esse "-In Roeth. Hebd., leet. 2, no. 82;
"Nulla res est suum esse "-De Ver., I, 4, ad 4m; " ... cum non sit res aliqua
praeter Deum suum esse "-CG, III, 65, Adhuc, licet; " ... in quibuscumque r.es non
est suum esse "-Quodl., II, 4, ad 2m. This may be compared with the more explicit designation "creature," in "Nulla enim creatura e.st suum esse, sed est
habens esse . . . in qualibet creatura est aliud ipsa creatura quae habet esse, et
ipsum esse eius "-Quodl., II, 8, c, and then with the specific " man " or "phoenix."
In every case the term distinguished from being is what receives the being. But
what receives real being is the individual supposit. To it the being pertains:
" ... licet ipsum esse non sit de mtione suppositi, quia tamen pertinet ad suppositum, et non est de ratione naturae .. ."-Quodl., II, 4, ad 2m. In this way
the thing is viewed as having its nature and as having its being: " ... ipsum suppositum sive individuum habet naturam speciei, sicut homo humanitatem, et habet
ulterius esse: homo enim nee est humanita.s nee est esse suum "-De Pot., VII, 4, c.
In this perspective Aquinas's preferred way of speaking is to say that the thing's
essence (or nature or quiddity) is not its being, e.g. "omnis res in qua est aliud
essentia et aliud esse "-CG, I, 22, Amplius, omnis. But in the real world, where
alone there is question ,of real distinction, the natur.e or quiddity or essence is
really identical with the thing that receives the real being. The distinction may
therefore be worded as between being and nature (essence, quiddity) or as between
being and thing. Just as "distinction" is not Aquinas's regular word here but is
now found more convenient, so "thing" rather than essence or nature or quiddity
is preferable today in the interests of clarity.
On the other hand, since being pertains to it, a thing has to be regarded as composed of itself and what is other than itself: "componitur ex seipso et alio "-

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JOS:fiiPiI OwENS, c.ss.n.

again would require actuation distinct from itself, and would
set up an infinite
The existence, rather, is the actua.tion of all the reality in the thing, actuation grasped through
the synthetic cognition of judgment and not through the static
representation of a concept. In a subsequent concept, as discussed above, the existence can be contrasted with the essence
and seen to be conceptually distinct from it. But there is no
justification so far in the premises for projecting this contrast
as a real distinction present outside the mind. Even though the
reasoning has been carried to the point where it has shown that
the distinction does not hold in God, there is as yet no ground
for projecting it as real. It would be reasoning from the presence of a distinction in the mind to a corresponding distinction
in reality. In that perspective the reasoning would seem to have
an ontological cast.
In point of fact, Wippel (pp. 282; 286; 287, n. 18) notes that
the reasoning in the De Ente passage is directed towards real
distinction. He presents this issue lucidly, and then goes on to
show that in the " second phase " (p. 287) of the reasoning
Aquinas "can conclude to factual otherness of essence and existence in all other entities " (p. 289) . In the body of this interpretation of " phase two " as well as in its conclusion, there is
no mention of " real." Yet when applied soon after to bearing
on the main contention, namely that demonstration of God's
existence is not a prerequisite for showing the real distinction,
the conclusion is summed up as " essence and existence are
really not identical" and as "the real distinction between essence and existence " (p. 291) . " Real " seems to slip in unobtrusively as though an alternative for the "factual otherness"
Quodl., II, 3, ad Im. As a composite in that way the transcendental res is distinguished only conceptually from a being (ens) and from a unit (unum). At the
same time, within the real composite, it is really distinct from its own being
(esse). Acoordingly in the text "res, ens, unum, significant omnino idem, sed
secundum
rationes "-In IV Metaph., lect. 2, no. 553, the oonceptual distinction is meant between res and ens, and not between res and esse.
29 Cf. infinite regress argument at In I Sent., d. 8, q. 1, a. 2, arg. 2 (I, 197), and
the r.eply " ipso formaliter est creatura " at ad 2m (p. 198).

STAGES AND DISTINCTION IN 'DE ENTE'

121

that had been inferred, as just mentioned, on p. 289. "Real"
then continues to be used on pages 292-295 in applying that
conclusion to the main theme, in the way the problem had been
set up with the distinction envisaged as real.
There need be no objection to the term" factual distinction,"
if it is understood in the sense that the distinction is a fact regardless of whether any human mind is conceiving it. The
extent to which " factual " in this sense is synonymous with
"real" may be left for the next section of this paper. For the
present the point is that the "fact" demonstrated in the "second stage" is that only God can be understood as identical
with his nature. No other entity can. No ground is offered for
projecting the distinction into the real world, and thinkers in
other metaphysical frameworks have expressly refused to do so.
Hence the appearance of ontological trend in this interpretation. The conclusion, as Wippel (pp. 289-291) correctly points
out, is not hypothetical but positive. The crucial problem, however, is whether the inference is ontological in character.

v
Finally, the notion of" factual otherness" (Wippel, pp. 289,
290, 295) , seems to indicate another latent assumption. It
would imply that " real otherness " and " factual otherness "
are synonymous. Yet the A vicennian background against which
thirteenth century thinkers wrote made existence in the mind
(esse in anima) a genuine kind of existence, though secondary
to real existence (esse in re, in se, extra animam). In neither
way could a creature be its own existence. This should mean
the factual otherness of the thing in regard to its cognitional
as well as its real being. A thing is surely other than its existence
in the human mind, factually, even though its existence in
reality is not involved.
For the purposes of the traditional controversy there may
seem little point in raising this issue. Obviously the existence
of a phoenix in one's imagination is not the phoenix itself. It is
not even entailed by the nature of the phoenix, let alone identi-

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JOSEPH OW:llJNS, c.ss.n.

cal with it. The tree outside my window would be other than
its existence in my perception, even though no human mind
were conceptually distinguishing the one from the other. They
would be distinct in fact, regardless of distinct concepts about
them. Yet the factual distinction here could hardly be called
" real," since it is not concerned with distinction in the real
world.
The Thomistic distinction between a thing and its being is
accordingly wider in range than real distinction. " Factual distinction " is an apt term to designate it, as long as the phrase
means distinction in fact regardless of human consideration of
its terms. It is a fact that the tree exists outside my window
and a fact that it exists in my mind while I am thinking about
it. Each of these facts involves a "factual" distinction in the
sense just mentioned. The range of " factual " is thereby restricted conventionally to what is there independently of
further construction in human conceptualization. The fact that
the terms have been conceptually distinguished will be subsequent to the meaning agreed upon for " factual " in this context.
But whatever term is used to designate the Thomistic distinction between a thing and its being, it has to be wide enough to
include distinction from cognitional existence. The distinction
between a thing and its cognitional existence antecedes human
conceptualization of its terms. But it can hardly be called a
" real " distinction.

VI
1£ one has no qualms in accepting the four latent tenets just
examined, real distinction between being and thing in Aquinas
before demonstration of God's existence may not seem incongruous. In that case the procedure in the De Ente may be
regarded (Wippel, pp. 294-295) as a highly significant exception to the order of treatment in the other works, and Aquinas
may he faulted with a " failure to identify explicitly as real the
kind of distinction for which he was ultimately arguing" (p.
294, n. 35) in it. Rejection of the first and fourth implicit
tenets, however, makes the omission of " real " an attitude that

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128

could be expected. Rejection of the third tenet excludes argument from the content of the two concepts to corresponding
distinction in the real world. Finally, and crucially, rejection of
the second tenet will imply that contrary to Wippel's (p. 295)
view Aquinas rather needs to and does " presuppose the existence of God in order to conclude to real otherness of essence
and existence in other entities" (p. 295). Existence as a nature
or part of a nature in the thing would in Parmenidean fashion
absorb everything else. Where found really in a finite thing
existence has accordingly to remain really other than what it
actuates. No lesser argument can establish real distinction. But
to show that existence is a nature is to demonstrate that God
exists.
JosEPH OwlDNS, C.Ss.R.
Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies
Toronto, Canada

ASSIMILATING KOHLBERG TO AQUINAS
HE RESEARCH FINDINGS of Lawrence Kohlberg
bviously invite attempts to assimilate them to philoophical theories of natural law. Here I propose to assimilate them, if only in rough outline form, to one such theory,
that of Thomas Aquinas. Both parties, I think, can profit from
such an integration.
Two preliminary remarks, however, need to be made. First,
I shall not be concerned with Aquinas's theory of natural law
as a whole. My attention will be focused instead on one famous
text: Summa Theologica, I-II, 94, art. 2. Whether this is reconcilable with other statements Aquinas makes on natural law,
though an important and interesting question, is not strictly
relevant to my present concerns. Second, I shall be liberal in
my construction of that text. What I am interested in is not so
much the letter of Aquinas's text as the spirit which, I believe,
informs it; and when that spirit requires supplementing or correcting the ipsum verbum of the text, I shall not hesitate to do
so.
The findings of Kohlberg which are pertinent to our present
purposes are these: (1) that the development of moral thinking in the individual is a process which passes through definite
stages; (2) that this cognitive development has to do with the
form of morality rather than the matter, the " why" of conduct
rather than the "what;" (3) that the developmental process
has three main stages or levels, called the pre-conventional, the
conventional, and the post-conventional (or autonomous or
principled) levels; (4) that the pre-conventional level is characterized by egocentric thinking, i.e., thinking which takes the
actor's own pleasures and pains, desires and aversions, as the
measure of what should or should not be done; (5) that the
conventional level is characterized by ethnocentric or sociocentric thinking, i.e., thinking which takes the values of the

IM

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125

actor's own group or society as the measure; (6) that the postconventional level is characterized by anthropocentric or universalistic thinking, i.e., thinking which takes as the measure
standards having validity apart from the preferences of any
individual or any group; (7) that the individual passes through
these stages in a step-by-step way, not skipping any steps along
the way; (8) that for the most part the steps are irreversible;
(9) that a person who is at any one stage, though he does most
of his thinking at that stage, does not necessarily do all of it
at that stage; (10) that individuals move through the developmental process at different rates of speed; (11) that individuals
often fail to complete the whole developmental process; (12)
that certain cultures and societies have a greater propensity
than others to retard and even to arrest, or conversely to promote and to accelerate, the developmental process in their
members. 1
Aquinas makes a distinction among fundamental precepts of
morality between what may be called formal and material precepts. There is only one basic formal precept:
Hence this is the first precept of law, that" good is to be done and
promoted, and evil is to be a voided." All other precepts of the
natural law are based upon this; so that all the things which the
practical reason naturally apprehends as man's good belong to
the precepts of the natural law under the form of things to be done
or avoided. 2

By itself, of course, this formal precept tells us nothing about
the content of morality. That is provided by certain natural
inclinations, which, when viewed, so to speak, through the lens
of the do-good-avoid-evil precept, become the fundamental material precepts:
Since, however, good has the nature of an end, and evil the nature
of the contrary, hence it is that all those things to which man has
a natural inclination are naturally apprehended by reason as being
1 Kohlberg, Lawrence, "The Cognitive-Developmental Approach to Moral Eduaction," Phi Delta Kappan, June, 1975 (reprinted in Annual Editions: Readings in
Human Development 78/79. Guilford, Ct., Dushkin Publishing Group, 156-163).
2 S. Theol., I-II, 94, art. 2.

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DAVID R. CARLIN, JR.

good, and consequently as objects of pursuit, and their contraries
as evil, and objects of avoidance.'
Corresponding to three levels of fundamental inclinations in
man, there are three categories of basic precepts on the side of
matter or content. Moreover, there is an order among these
categories, beginning with the most primitive and
to
the highest.
Therefore the order of the precepts of the natural law is according
to the order of natural inclinations. For there is in man, first of all,
an inclination to good in accordance with the nature which he has
in common with all substances, inasmuch, namely, as every substance seeks the preservation of its own being, according to its
nature; and by reason of this inclination, whatever is a means of
preserving human life and of warding off its obstacles, belongs to
the natural law. Secondly, there is in man an inclination to things
that pertain to him more specially, according to that nature which
he has in common with other animals; and in virtue of this inclination, those things are said to belong to the natural law "which
nature has taught to all animals," such as sexual intercourse, the
education of offspring, and so forth. Thirdly, there is in man an
inclination to good according to the nature of his reason, which
nature is proper to him. Thus man has a natural inclination to
know the truth about God, and to live in society; and in this respect, whatever pertains to this inclination belongs to the natural
law: e.g., to shun ignorance, to avoid offending those among whom
one has to live, and other such things regarding the above inclination. 4
At this point I want to supplement Aquinas's account in
three respects, in all cases remaining, I think, faithful at least
to the spirit, perhaps even to the letter, of his natural law
theory.
First, when speaking of the " order " of natural inclinations
and the corresponding "order" of material precepts, Aquinas
does not expressly say that this order is a temporal one, as
though the first category of precepts emerged in the consciousness of the individual at an earlier date than the second and the
3

Ibid.

•]bid.

ASSIMILATING

KOHLBERG TO AQUINAS

U7

second in turn at an earlier date than the third. But neither
does he rule out its being a temporal order. In fact, it would be
more consistent with the Aristotelian spirit of developmentalism
which pervades his natural philosophy and anthropology to say
that higher capacities and accomplishments based on higher
capacities come later in time. Let us assume, then, that the
order he refers to is a temporal as well as an ontological one, and
that the higher the category of basic material precept the later
it comes to be recognized by the individual.
Second, though Aquinas may refer to a developing order of
awareness of the fundamental material precepts of morality, he
clearly makes no reference to a developing awareness of the
fundamental formal precept. Yet here again it would be quite
inconsistent with the overall spirit of Aquinas's anthropology
and natural philosophy to interpret this omission as an assertion on his part that there is no development here, as though
awareness of the do-good-avoid-evil precept dawns upon the
individual one fine day instantaneously and in the plenitude
of its significance. Let us say, then, that he intended-or at all
events that he would have intended had he been consistent
with himself-to say that there is a process of developing
awareness not just of the basic material precepts but of the
basic formal precept as well.
Third, granted there is this process of developing knowledge
of the basic formal precept of morality, the question arises:
what are the stages of this process? On the Aristotelian principle, which Aquinas of course would acknowledge, that form
and matter are proportionate to one another, we may answer
by saying that there are three stages and that these three correspond to the three stages, mentioned above, of developing
awareness of the basic material precepts of morality. In other
words, the meaning of the rule" do good and avoid evil" varies
for the individual depending on which level of inclination,
hence which level of material precept, has emerged as dominant
in him.
Given these three amendments, we have a Thomistic natural

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DAVID·R, CARLIN, JR.

law theory in which knowledge of the basic precepts of the law,
both formal and material, goes through a three-stage process of
development, stages in which dominance belongs first to inclinations of self-preservation, then to animal inclination, and
finally to properly rational inclinations. Superficially at least,
this bears a resemblance to Kohlberg's findings, which also reveal a three-stage process of development. But does the resemblance go deeper than that? Are Kohlberg's three stages
similar to the Thomistic three?
The resemblance between them is, I submit, striking. Kohlberg's pre-conventional level of egocentric moral thinking is
plainly similar to Aquinas's first stage in which self-preserving
inclinations are dominant. Kohlberg's second level, the conventional, in which ethnocentric or sociocentric thinking rules,
is similar to Aquinas's second level, in which animal inclinations are dominant. At least it is so if we refrain, as Aquinas
apparently intended to, from the defamation of animality so
often implied when people speak of animal inclinations; for
Aquinas, to judge from the examples he offers (" those things
are said to belong to the natural law' which nature has taught
to all animals,' such as sexual intercourse, the education of offspring, and so forth ") , seems to believe that the distinctive
feature of animal, as opposed to sub-animal, "morality" is the
readiness of the individual animal to live for the group to which
it belongs. In other words, animals, though of course not political, are at least social or gregarious beings.
The resemblance between Kohlberg and Aquinas is somewhat
less obvious at the third and highest stage. For the former,
this is the post-conventional level, the level at which moral
thinking becomes universalistic and recognizes the value of
man as man. For the latter it is the stage of properly rational
inclinations. Now having heard him say this, one expects
Aquinas to describe these inclinations as being ordered to universalistic objects; for rationality and universality normally
belong together. Nor is this expectation disappointed when he
gives his first example of such an inclination (" Thus man has

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KOHLBERG

TO AQUINAS

129

a natural inclination to know the truth about God ... "). Certainly this is ordered to a universal object, the most universal
of all objects of knowledge. But when he comes to his second
example of a rational inclination (" to live in society ") and to
the precept based on that inclination ("to avoid offending
those among whom one has to live ") , universalism is dropped
in favor of particularism. No advance has been made beyond
the social or gregarious inclinations of the second stage. Why
Aquinas slipped into this inconsistency is a question that need
not be answered here; but there can be no doubt that it is an
inconsistency. Had he been consistent, had he assigned nothing
but universal objects to rational inclinations, he would have
offered as examples something more along these lines: an inclination to membership in a moral community which includes all
men, a precept requiring us to live in peace with everyone. And
this, of course, would bring his third stage into accord with
Kohlberg's.
Thus, as the result of some stretching and pulling of Aquinas
to make him congruent with Kohlberg (but always, as I have
said, remaining faithful to the spirit of the Thomistic theory),
we find that both theorists hold a three-stage theory of the
development of moral knowledge, beginning with a stage that
is egocentric, passing through an intermediate stage of limited
sociability, and culminating in a stage of universalism.
This reconciliation between Kohlberg and Aquinas, if valid,
possesses, as I said earlier, advantages for both sides. Let me
itemize them here, both some which have been touched on already and others.
For the Thomist there are these advantages:
1. He gains a clear notion of the three stages of the development of moral knowledge.
2. He also gains an understanding that this three-stage development applies to the basic formal precept as well as to the
basic material precepts.
3. He clarifies the meaning of third stage (rational) inclina-

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DAVID R. CARLIN, JR.

tions, making it plain that they have universalistic, not particularistic, objects.
4. His notion that there is a process of developing awareness
of the formal precept of morality gets empirical corroboration
from Kohlberg's findings.
5. Since his theory closely links the formal and material aspects of moral knowledge, this empirical corroboration of the
developmentalism of the former is also an indirect corroboration of the developmentalism of the latter.
6. His theory is rescued from a theoretical embarrassment
faced by it and nearly every other account of natural law, viz.,
the fact of moral diversity in the world. If there is a natural
knowledge of basic moral rules, it is objected, why do so many
individuals and cultures appear to be ignorant of at least some
of these rules? The Thomist can now answer that these are
instances of incomplete or arrested development.
For Kohlberg the advantages are:
1. His empirical findings are given a philosophical grounding
(though no doubt not exactly the kind he is looking for, since
his philosophical affinity seems to lie with a naturalism of the
John Dewey type).
2. He is alerted to further research possibilities. Just as he
has uncovered empirical evidence that there is a developmental
process of awareness of the form of morality, so he may be able
to turn up empirical evidence of a parallel process relative to
the matter of morality.
What I have offered here is obviously only a rough sketch.
Much further work needs to be done before a theory of natural
law along Thomistic lines can fully assimilate the results of research of the Kohlberg type. In three areas especially is this
further work needed. (1) On the Thomistic side, a theory of
the development of moral cognition will have to be elaborated
in such a way as to link up on the one hand with a general philosophical theory of cognitive development, on the other with

ASSIMILATING

KOHLBERG

TO AQUINAS

131

empirical discoveries. (2) On the side of empirical research,
inquiries will have to be made into the development of knowledge of the basic material precepts of morality. (3) An adequate vocabulary will have to be worked out for translating the
findings of empirical research into philosophical language and,
contrariwise, for translating philosophical statements into empirically testable propositions.
DAVID

Rhode Island College
Providence, Rhode Island

R. CARLIN, JR.

THE ETHICAL THEORIES OF AUREL KOLNAI

A

ART FROM THOSE who knew him personally, it is
doubtful that many attribute to Aurel Kolnai the
importance that the penetration and fineness of his
thought merited. To a degree this may have been the case because he lacked, by choice and by chance, an enduring group
identity-doctrinal, ideological, cultural, and national. Born
in Budapest of Jewish parents in 1900, he was throughout the
first great war strongly pro-Ally. Following the war he went to
the University of Vienna, where he earned a D.Phil. from both
the philosophy and history faculties (Schlick, Gomperz, and
von Mises were among his teachers). Later, he studied under
Edmund Husserl and Martin Honecker in Freiburg. In the
mid-twenties, influenced by G. K. Chesterton (whom he saw as
a phenomenologist) and the German Phenomenological School
of Philosophy, he was converted to Catholicism. Despite numerous philosophical publications, both books and articles, until
1945 he chose to be a writer and journalist rather than an academic. His writings dealt with many matters, ranging from
political events in Germany and Austria, the thoughts of Belloc
and Chesterton, and the "rule of money" in democracy, to the
relationship between Fascism and Bolshevism, the ideology of
progress, and the meaning of racial obsession. His approach
was frequently polemical. After years of effort (one locale of
which was a Vienna coffeehouse frequented by Austrian Nazis),
he completed and saw published The War Against the West, a
brilliant study of Nazi doctrines and policies. Up to the end of
the 'thirties, he was, politically, sympathetic toward democratic socialism, but, among other things, the proclamation by
a " progressive " association of French lycee teachers that the
West did not have the moral right to defend itself against Hitler's Germany caused a change of view, and he became what
today would be called a neo-conservative, that is, a supporter

THE ETHICAL THEORIES OF AUREL KOLNAI

183

of a liberal, capitalist, and, institutionally at any rate, democratic society. During the war, after internment in France and
escape through Spain and Portugal, he and his wife, Elizabeth,
found refuge in America, where he worked in journalism and for
the Office of War Information. From 1945 to 1955 he taught
in the Faculty of Philosophy, Laval University, after a short
time as professeur agreg.e. At Laval, reasonably enough, his
thought took on a Thomistic cast, although he was critical of
the approach toward St. Thomas prevailing there. A resident
of London from 1955 until his death in 1973, he was Visiting
Lecturer in Ethics and Political Philosophy at Bedford College.
During this period his philosophical endeavors acquired an
" analytic " style, this being facilitated by a perceived agreement in theme between phenomenology and the British analytic
school. From 1945 on he contributed an abundance of articles
in philosophy to various journals in America, Canada, and England, and on the continent, in English, French, German, and
Spanish, all of which, in addition to Hungarian, he spoke and
wrote with distinction and native adeptness. He frequently
read papers in England and abroad, and was Visiting Professor
of Philosophy at Marquette University in 1968.
In 1978 there appeared a volume of his papers, most previously published, edited by two former students of his at Bedford College, Mr. Brian Klug and Dr. Francis Dunlop, with a
preface by Bernard Williams of Cambridge and David Wiggins
of Bedford. 1 Its purpose is to achieve a better balance between
his accomplishments and public appreciation of them. The selections cover only his London period, but they are representative works of someone who was, above all and at all times, a
unyielding foe of those who would debase the central features
of human existence. The themes of the collection are many. A
pervasive one is the perversity in assigning a near-divine status
to human appetite. Another, closely related, is the wrongheadedness of egalitarianism, though he acknowledged its underlying moral urges. A third, also related to absolute human1 Ethics, Value and Reality, Hackett Publishing Company, Indianapolis, 1978.
Originally published by The Athlone Press, University of London, London, 1977.

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JOHN D. BEACH

ism, is the threat posed by utopian dogmas. Yet another is the
error of a wholly rationalistic conception of ethics, the belief
that one can and ought to demonstrate the basic tenets of a
consciously moral life. Each of these points is found, openly or
implicitly, in the conclusion of Part I of the volume's most important work," Morality and Practice", here published for the
first time. Speaking of the inevitable failure "to cope conclusively with the question 'why should I be moral'," he holds
that such a failure
may make the philosopher sensitive to a rationalistic-naturalistic
misdirection always latent in ethical speculation: the mirage, that
is, of a necessary goodness of Man-or of every will-and of evil as
a mere appearance. Behind the claim of 'proving ' to me that I
'should' be moral there is at work the fond hope, self-contradictory
and Utopian, imbued with an atmosphere of all-goodness and all
evil in its implications, of demonstrating that I cannot but be moral
.even though some of my operations are ill-conceived and harmful
owing to error, inadvertence or technical disability. The practical
conclusion to which this speculative schema would point is excessive
mildness in dealing with immoral conduct and boundless tyranny
in dealing with people, i.e. the policy of cleansing the world from
evil and fashioning it in a moral code once for all, by a comprehensive plan of coercion, need-gratification, indoctrination, training
and selective elimination. 2

Clearly, Kolnai did not see as a product of chance the co-presence within today's dominant totalitarian systems of a rationalism run amuck in the structuring of society, the toleration,
indeed state-sponsorship, of life-destroying personal behavior,
the coercion operating at the social level, the purges of those
who resist, and the offering of a future in which the gratification of spontaneous human desires is the culminating condition
of the cosmos.
Kolnai also sets himself the task of probing and judging
existentialist conceptions of ethical being, principally those of
Sartre and Heidegger. One target is what he terms The Idol
of Authenticity, the insistence that a person must unqualifiedly
shape himself, never submitting to " objective " values, even
•Op. cit., p. 94.

THE ETHICAL THEORIES OF AUREL KOLNAI

135

those of his own making. The difficulties that he finds within
the Sartrean formulation of this scheme are several:
If I am free, my craving to evade freedom and sell myself into the
bondage of ' thingness ', to forge myself a mystifying network of
objective goods, values, rules, standards and determinants of all
kinds also springs from my freedom. And if, apparently, freedom
does not take kindly to itself, why not allow it the freedom to undergo limitations and indulge its thirst for solidification and reification? ... Further, what is wrong with shams, dodges, ungeniuneness
and artificiality? Why not choose these freely, rather than seek
with desperate monotony to display my untainted freedom by an
endless string of ' gratuitous ' choices, i.e. by trying always to obey
one vacuous principle instead of actually choosing x for being a
greater good than y, and then z because it is an obligation or non-q
because q is evil? And if insincerity is wrong, is it wrong because
my freedom has so decreed? Hardly. But why then assent just to
this one moral intuition or Divine commandment or socially established standard or deduction from the utility principle, and not to
others as well? Should it be simply because Sartre has so chosen
pour les autres, including me? But are not all general and imnmtable principles a fake, and might he not (perhaps, ought he not to)
choose anew and differently at any moment? 3

However, the basic objection that Kolnai has to these thinkers' doctrines is found here:
Sartre's exposure of the modes of 'bad faith' and Heidegger's
analogous critique of das
i.e. of man's ordinary consciousness
thriving in the medium of civil society, while rich in pertinent insights and beyond psychology relevant also to ethics, breathe the
sterile spirit of nihilism in that they ultimately attack, not so much
an erroneous doctrine or a specified kind of morally inferior conduct
as human existence itself-which in its main body is first and foremost, unalterably, everyday existence-and aim at invalidating the
moral demands which arise in the context of that existence. 4

A related flaw is also to be discerned. While they would claim
" that the whole treasure of decencies and loyalties " that often
guide men is " no better than a homogeneous fabric of sham,"
the " authentic " act can, at the best, but embody the standard
principles of moral action:
• " Existence and Ethics." p. 124.

• Ibid., p. US.

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JOHN D. BEACH

the extraordinary, 'marginal', heroic and 'gratuitous' feats of authenticity, apart from being in strictness impossible-for man is
doomed to be empty unsubstantial ' freedom ', he can neither attain
to divinity nor be sanctified by a non-Bxistent God-themselves depend, for such meaning as they may be credited with, on traditionally approved principles and concerns, like sincerity, benevolence, courage and the welfare of mankind. 5
Kolnai has no more favorable a view of conventional relativism. In the paper "Erroneous Conscience" he calls attention
to the fact that advocacy of relativism precludes devotion to
any one set of values. In his words, "the philosophical relativism of ' several moralities equally justified ' is incompatible with
actual adherence to one of these alleged moralities." 6 One reviewer has questioned Kolnai's claim here, but its soundness is
not difficult to grasp. Relativism asserts that no moral doctrine
or judgment is simply valid, i.e., that none expresses an intrinsic value that is objectively given. On the other hand, adherence to a particular ethic is to declare that a value is so
given. The inconsistency of the two positions is thus evident.
The attempt to dissolve the inconsistency through recourse to
a qualifying " it is so given to me " would amount to the admission that it is not so given, that you now realize the subjective
or culture-bound status of the moral datum that in a less controlled spirit you overlooked, and so abandon the ethic to which
you had carelessly subscribed.
In another paper Kolnai argues at greater length against the
creed of relativism. Its title is "Moral Consensus", and its
major points are that, one, there is substantial agreement among
men on moral questions, and, two, without such agreement we
would very likely succumb to a radical disorientation. The first
point naturally calls for a consideration of its doctrinal denial.
This denial, he insists, is at its
crudest ... prone to confuse the prevailing practice of men with
their prevailing moral appreciations ... and would only accept the
fact of moral consensus if it saw the terrestrial world superseded by
"Ibid., p. 129.
8 " Erroneous Conscience," p.

THE ETHICAL THEORIES OF AUREL KOLNAI

137

a uniform heaven of saints (or perhaps a uniform abode of the
damned, under the sign of either Lasciate ogni speranza or Evil, be
thou my Good) . It tends to identify moral decay with a ' new
morality ' and mores with morality.7
He also observes that the corollary of the position, cultural
determinism (like relativism, it stems directly from the understanding of an ethic as an expression of a given culture's genius),
precludes understanding of a common and highly relevant state
of affairs, namely the existence within a society of those who,
on moral grounds, condemn its practices.
Its favourite belief in homogeneous (and mutually alien) 'epochs',
' cultures ' or ' societies ' makes it overlook the potent presence of
the Jeremiahs, Juvenals, Bossuets, Burckhardts and similar critics
of their own societies.8
Another error of relativism is the claimed identity between a
society's moral code and its selective emphasis upon this or
that specific value .
. . . relativism is guilty of confusing morality with ' ethos ', i.e. the
variable and particular vividness of moral emphasis as displayed in
locally and chronologically differentiated ideals, idols, and ideologies, traditional code-phrasings and fashionable slogans, whose
moral tenor is intimately amalgamated with the indefinite multeity
of non-moral concerns, particular interests and aspirations, self-loves
and selective sympathies. 9

It would be rather unreasonable to claim that the Latin stress
upon warmth, or the Germanic devotion to thoroughness, or the
Jewish emphasis upon intellectuality, constitutes a moral value
unique to that culture.
Finally, relativism overlooks the fact that disagreements in
non-moral matters far surpass those in the moral sphere:
... how much more striking is the discordance between the factual
beliefs of men, their religions, their para- or non-religious outlooks,
not to speak of their dominant individual and collective interests,
Moral Consensus," p. 156.
Ibid.
• Ibid., p. 157.

7 "
8

138

JOHN D. BEACH

than between their moral beliefs all over the world and along its
history. To become aware of this contrast in its full proportions
should suffice to establish the fact of moral consensus.10
While granting that they will involve "modulations and differentiations," and that they will be codified " with simplifications and irksome omissions," he insists on a " consensual
perspective of feelings, insights, views " that
benevolence is good and malice, bad; that veracity is right and
mendacity, wrong; and similarly with the contrast-pairs of courage
and cowardice, self-control and intemperance, respect for others and
arrogant self-assertion, yet on the other hand self-respect and servile
self-surrender, adulation or pliancy, dignity and meretricious cynicism, magnanimity and cruelty, chastity and lust, honesty and dishonesty, fidelity and treachery, loyalty and treason.11
The list is an impressive one; indeed, a convincing one. It has,
hovvever, a dominant feature that is, in the context, somewhat
puzzling. An account of transcultural moral concordance ought,
it would seem, to focus on the matter, the content, the specific
values, of human life-on such things as the various forms of
friendship, the activities of the mind, and self-determination or
autonomy. Instead, in the above, we are offered the human
responses, virtuous or vicious, to the elements of life, without
explicit reference to the values upon which these responses
bear. This emphasis on the state of the will faced with its objects is, we shall see, a major element in the paper " Morality
and Practice", which contains Kolnai's most developed original
contribution to ethical theory. There, however, we find a balance between the will and its object, one which, without diminishing the decisive role of the will and its responses, does assign
a definite priority to the object.
In " Morality and Practice " Kolnai seeks to develop an adequate account of human goodness. He begins the project proper
by noting and distinguishing two ways in which we use the
word " good ".
10

11

Ibid., p. 158.
Ibid., p. 154.

THE ETHICAL THEORIES OF AUREL KOLNAI

139

When we speak of the good the agent is pursuing (perhaps efficaciously, with the appropriate means, and successfully) or of the
' good of man ', and when we speak of the goodness of conduct or
of a ' good man ', we mean by ' good ' sharply different things whatever relations we may on closer inquiry discover between them. 12
The first, the" good of man", embraces "the desirable, satisfying and valuable ... what I hold in high esteem ... what is
known to be desired by or useful for people in general or a
category of people." 13 Among such goods in this sense, then,
would be the possession of wealth, or status, or power, and,
more important by far, the perfections of man's specific being,
those forms of existence toward which he is inclined by his
nature, those stressed in the Aristotelian natural law ethic.
Man's goodness, on the other hand, is found in his self-directing but self-detached devotion to value, a devotion, that is,
involving" a relinquishment of the' John's good' point of view,
a decisive step beyond the John-centric system of coordinates,
a radical change of perspective." 14 Such a change of perspective will be signaled by a desire to be a good person:
At a certain level of moral virtue, i.e. if he is really 'good', John
will be concerned about being virtuous, develop a sensitive conscience, and suffer whenever he has failed to follow its suasion. 15

In such a case, for John "the goodness of his will has indeed
become a precious part of ' his good '," though of course it is
"his good" in a sense quite different from that in which, say,
power is his good. Concern for his own virtue
means a reception into the st,ructure of his wanting of a claim on
him as contrasted to the autonomous unfolding and pursuing of his
desires as such and a readiness to renounce frequently, at the cost
of pain and effort if necessary, 'his good' in the direct, perhaps
fully experienced and often very comprehensive sense of the word,
and to check his pursuit of it. 16
What is the target of these characterizations and distinctions? Quite simply, the view that through the fulfillment of
Op. cit., p. 66.
Ibid., p. 65.
H Ibid., p. 68.

12

15

1•

1•

Ibid., pp. 68-9.
Ibid., p. 69.

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JOHN D. BEACH

his root urges, inclinations, desires, through the acquisition of
further actuality, the acquisition of ontologically richer modes
of being, man, by that fact alone, takes on a kind of grace, i.e.
moral goodness in its proper nature. Concerning what he calls
Aristotle's Metaphysics of Good, he states:
His point of departure lies in the conception of good as ' perfective' of the thing whose good and, basically, the object of whose
desire it is. Good is inconceivable without a reference to its power
of attraction; but that attraction is thought of as consequent upon
the objective need on the part of the attracted thing for having its
being 'perfected '-sustained, accomplished, enhanced-by 'its
good' .... Good thus becomes a concept subordinate to that kind
of being.17
In a clear reference to G. E. Moore's Naturalistic Fallacy, Kolnai terms the above Aristotle's "metaphysical naturalism",
and he will have none of it:
It may well be morally good to promote the ' perfection ' of self and
of others in any meaningful sense of personal perfections, but neither
does this in any way define or comprise morality nor is it true that
a man is morally better for being more perfect in any, however basic
and desirable, non-moral sense.18
He then adds, in a definite paradox that we shall specify
later:
Man's being distinctively human or fully developed qua man cannot
be the criterion of his morality, for what distinguishes man from the
' brutes ' is his being morally accountable. 19
What is the proper response to all this? That, largely, it is
both valid and adequate. Let it be granted that we naturally
seek to be knowing, free, and loving, and that these states are
in some deep and experienced way perfective of our being, our
existence as human. This does not mean that our possession of
them is one with our virtue, our moral goodness. A person is
not moral because he is knowledgeable and wise, self-determining, and, to cite the most evident instance, ' in love'. He is,
however, morally good in seeking these states-in seeking them
11

Ibid., p. 74.

1•

Ibid., p. 77.

1•

Ibid.

THE ETHICAL THEORIES OF AUREL KOLNAI

141

as cognizant of their worth, thus seeking them for himself and
for others.
At this point we come to something not found in Kolnai's
accounts of the good offered above. Clearly it is not in the
deliberate seeking of just any desired object that we take on
the quality of moral goodness. This means that we have need
of what, in another passage, Kolnai calls an " intermediary "
concept of good,
the further concept of an intrinsic but not in itself moral good
which is not, then, a quality or characteristic but (along with
'goods') an object of the agent's pursuit yet at the same time endowed with autonomous validity and a standard or measure of the
quality of that pursuit rather than a function or consequence of
it.20

Accordingly, man's pursuits and man himself will acquire moral
goodness if it is to objects that have intrinsic worth that he
deliberately directs himself. And what are these? Interestingly,
they are for Kolnai, as, presumably, they are for the rest of us,
those mentioned more than once, those that Aristotle would see
as naturally sought by man, those that he would see as perfective of man as such-namely, the forms of true friendship,
intellectual operations, and autonomous behavior. A reading of
certain passages given above and of many others scattered
through the papers of this collection would reveal that. True,
it is not because they are naturally sought, not because they
are perfective of our nature, that the pursuit and the pursuer
take on the quality of goodness, but because of their specific
characters and because we see that such modes of being are
what we ought to acquire. Our view of them thus should be
akin to the view that we have of our own virtue: something
that we seek for ourselves, indeed, but in a spirit of subordination to what has worth quite apart from its possession by us.
The upshot of this is that the good intermediary between the
good of man and man's goodness tends toward man's goodness,
without, of course, directly having that quality, which by its
•• Ibid., p. 71.

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JOHN D. BEACH

nature is a response to the moral imperium. The quasi-union
between the goodness of man and, for want of a better word,
the goodness found in nature has an important function. Human virtue is more readily acknowledged if we grant the existence in nature of that which, having intrinsic worth, compels
and measures our choices:
Moral self-detachment may itself become more understandable,
more credible as it were, if seen in the context of somehow analogous
objectifications than if regarded as an isolated miracle. 21

This means, as Kolnai sees it, that there is "some sort of congruity between the natural and the moral good," and that " being in its manifoldness and coherence and the functioning of
nature must be good." 22
The claimed harmony takes another form. We saw that in
the passage where he rejects the view that" being distinctively
human or fully developed qua man " is the standard of morality, he adds that" what distinguishes man from the' brutes' is
his being morally accountable." Paradoxically, this is to say
that man's distinctive being is at its core moral; that, further,
to be developed qua man is to be virtuous, for to that state is
moral accountability ordered. We might also note that both
accountability and the ability to have a detached yet feeling
response to value are rooted in man's intelligence, will, and
freedom. In rejoinder, though, Kolnai could stress that whatever its ground, virtue is a non-natural quality, and that nothing
he holds commits him to what he rejects in others, i.e, the identification of an acquired natural mode of being with moral
goodness.
And here we are brought back to Kolnai's underlying concern: the defense of the characteristically human; above all, the
defense of that uniquely human mode of existence, the moral,
against all forms of reductionism, all confusions between it and
the non-moral. He would hardly be bothered by the claim that
the moral is human in origin. To the contrary, he would insist
Ibid., p. 7!i!.
••Ibid., p. 83.

01

THE ETHICAL THEORIES OF AUREL KOLNAI

143

that, in our experience, it is with man that the moral is inserted
into existence. But this is far from justifying the inference that
the moral is illusory or subjective in its status. Speaking of
moral opinions, as he might also have of moral feelings, habits,
or actions, he observes:
The point is that there are moral opinions, that all moral opinions
are facts, and these facts are the only data on which any analysis
and interpretation of morality, and not of something else arbitrarily
substituted for morality, can be based. 28

It could of course be brought out in seeming or partial rebuttal that the above does not wholly answer the question
which has always followed any formulation of the Naturalistic
:Fallacy: since the Good is not a natural mode of being, what
precisely is it? Insofar as Kolnai answers by designating that
manifestly non-natural state of the human psyche that we
term the moral, fine. But what of its claimed analogue in nature, that which he sees as congruous with the moral, indeed as
the measure and standard of moral goodness? There, what does
" the good " signify?
The question is surely both fair and difficult. Still, reversing
the order established by Kolnai, we might say that the goodness
of a natural mode of being becomes more understandable and
credible if seen in relation to its somehow analogous objectifications in the human spirit that we call moral goodness. Further
probing of moral goodness might thus enrich our understanding
of the good in nature. Probing the undeniable instances of the
natural good-knowledge, love, and freedom-might also help.
Not only are they intimately related to moral goodness, but
they, too, have fallen outside the notion of Being favored by
the radical monist; they, too, have been the objects of an attempted reduction to Being, that thick and throbbing but essentially homogeneous and indifferent stuff with the concept of
which, in the manner of the ancients, contemporary thought is
comfortable.
JOHN

Marquette University
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
»a " Moral Consensus," p. 151.

D. BEACH

BOOK REVIEWS
Jesus: An Experiment in Christology. By EDWARD ScHILLEBEECKX. Translated by Hubert Hoskins. New York: The Seabury Press, 1979. Pp.
767.
The original (1974) title of this first volume of E. Schillebeeckx's trilogy
on Christology was "Jesus of Nazareth: The Narrative of One Who Lives
(or The Living One)," and the author's article in Lumiere et Vie (Sp-Oc,
1977) retained that designation, Jesus de Nazareth, le recit d'un vivant. An
alternate title Schillebeeckx had in mind for the book was " Salvation in
Jesus Coming From God." With translations of volume one already available in many languages (four editions in German alone), with the second
volume now out in English translation and with the name of Schillebeeckx
so much before the public in recent months because of his conversations
with Roman authorities, a ' review of reviews ' might be now attempted.
The aim of this report, however, is more modest: how Schillebeeckx's foray
into the world of exegesis about Jesus who was the Christ strikes another
systematic theologian.
When the Scriptures proclaim the resurrection of Jesus they are always
conscious of his early life. Yet there is a tension today, liberation theology is an example, between those who adore the heavenly Jesus and those
who are interested in the earthly Jesus; a healthy balance is sought. On the
basis of a painstaking study of New Testament exegesis-more than 80%
of the book is the author's summary of current biblical research, he argues
that the Old Testament and inter-testamental figure of the eschatological
prophet is the key to understanding Jesus of Nazareth. From this strongly
Jewish background the first disciples faced the scandal of the cross; so the
Christian scriptures show, reflecting earlier sources. The kingdom of God
was inaugurated in Jesus whose life was delivered over to God's demanding
love. Victory over death is achieved in death and by death.
Traditional Christologies have collapsed in false dilemmas, e.g., Jesus of
Nazareth as model of Christian life in the world contrasted to a Christology with roots in the Easter kerygma and its expression in the Church's
worship. Or the dilemma is posed: either Christians struggling for justice,
or a Christology interior to the Church, theoretically liberating but practically conservative on sociopolitical involvement. Still again: accent on
the man Jesus even to the exclusion of his eschatological union with God,
or stress on Jesus Christ at the right hand of the Father, far removed
from the grubby world. Schillebeeckx's 'experiment' has been to investigate the earthly life of Jesus, using historico-critical studies, looking for

144

BOOK REVIEWS

145

clues in that life which lead to the Christian message as the answer to the
human quest for salvation. Now, however, the dialogue partner to Christtianity is no longer the humanist but the poor looking for liberation. The
author would have his reader join the first disciples on their itinerarium
mentis, as they follow their fellow Jew and after his terrible death proclaim him Christ, Son of man, Son of God.
The first "Jesus" volume "Experiment in Christology," might also
have been called "Experience of Christology" (volume two is called
Christ the Experience of Jesus as Lord), so strong is the place given to
experience whether of the first disciples or later Christians. Experience
takes precedence over the cognitive aspects on the part of both the first
followers of Jesus and all subsequent believers. The content aspect or
message dimension of the revelation of God in Christ receives little
attention from Schillebeeckx. Is he reacting over-strongly to a two-story
universe, with a God out there breaking through to send saving informa.tion to human beings down here? Is there no proper space for divine
action and divine communication propter nos homines et propter nostram
.rnlutem, yet with full respect for the independence and integrity of creation and the creatures who are human beings, recipients of the Father's
favor in Christ and the Spirit?
Anticipating (and in subsequent editions answering) criticism, Schillebeeckx protests fidelity to the creeds of the Church, especially Nicea
and Chalcedon, though he insists these too must be taken historically. He
wants his readers to grasp the dogmas of the Church, not abandon them,
quite the contrary of liberal theology. After stating he starts "from the
impression the earthly Jesus made on his loyal followers " in order " to
understand better the theological drift of the Church's kerygma and of
the first credal formulations," he continues, "Jesus of Nazareth is ...
the norm and criterion of Christian belief. So too, for me as a Christian,
is Chalcedon: but under the compelling norm of the same Jesus Christ,
whom this council-within a framework of specific and specifically Greek
philosophical inquiry, proper to its time though strange to us-likewise
took to be the norm and criterion of its dogmatic definitions . . ." For
him ' narrative ' has priority over apologetic or abstract arguments.
Christianity is more than a ' religion of the book '; it has reference to
historical events and persons, yet, useful though such research may be,
the image of Jesus thereby reconstructed is not the norm of our faith,
for there is a fundamental difference between the ' historical Jesus,' that
is, the distillate of historical-critical research and the Jesus of history
living in the company of his contemporaries in Palestine.
Historical investigation can help us follow Jesus with the disciples from
his baptism to his death, to discover how their hearts were burning in his
company. We have here not only a fides quaerens intellectum but also an
intellectus historicus quaerens fidem. " Leaving aside the dogma of the

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Church," writes Schillebeeckx, adding at once, "though I am convinced
that it is that very dogma which impelled me to these studies, I wish to
follow without knowing where they may lead me, not even knowing if
this way might not lead to an impasse. " He stands in a good theological
tradition; recall how Anselm (Schillebeeckx has warm words for Anselm's
soteriology of satisfaction) put aside the redemption when he set out on
the journey of his Cur Deus Homo. Historical investigation is one line of
approach, but another extremely important, indeed central, approach is
what the author calls ' disclosure experience,' which can be conclusive for
some, not for others. It is to such an experience that Schillebeeckx attributes the Easter faith of the disciples, which was finally expressed in terms
of appearances of the Risen Lord and the empty tomb. The Easter experience is never far from the author's thought throughout this lengthy book.
The itinerarium of the disciples began with a meeting which led them
to follow Jesus, their lives changed in the process (I Cor. 15: 17 is Paul's
reminder of it) . The basic gospel category is ' meeting, ' meaning both
experience and interpretation, which stand in reciprocal relationship,
which are the hinge of both volumes, says the author. Revelation and
experience are not opposed, for God's revelation includes, though it
transcends, the course of human experiences. Jesus is not just the cipher
for our own human experiences, as Hans Kling seems to be saying (so
said Schillebeeckx in his keynote address to the convention of the Catholic Theological Society of America, San Francisco, June, 1980). First
order or 'what Christology' led to 'who Christology.' What was once
experienced can only be handed down in renewed experiences.
Each New Testament book records the experience of grace differently.
Jesus opens a new way of life, not as a mere symbol but as the Living One.
How docs that offer of salvation translate to our contemporaries? Jesus is
accessible to us through the believing interpreters of the New Testament.
Jesus of Nazareth lived out his message, in his attitude towards God and
in service of others, especially the poor and despised. At his death the
disciples fled; the poignant sperabamus of the pair bound for Emmaus
shows his followers held Jesus to be the eschatological prophet. Schillebeeckx distinguishes between the various messianic concepts of Jesus'
day. Along with the familiar Davidic-dynastic model, a messianic eschatological prophet was also expected, greater even than Moses, many of whose
qualities he would have.
For a century, from the Wisdom books of 50 B.C. to the first Christian
scriptures (I Thess.), approximately A.D. 50, there was an inter-testamental concept of the eschatological prophet, with remote roots in Deuteronomy. Jewish tradition came to see Moses not only as intermediary
but as suffering intermediary, bearing the sins of the people. By the time
of Deutero-Isaiah the royal prophet Moses who bears the sins of the
people was identified with the suffering servant, and there developed

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the concept of an eschatological prophet greater than Moses, the servant
who would be a light to the nations (lumen gentium was used for the
Law, eventually for Christ). Christians borrowed from Judaism the concept of the prophet to express Jesus' own sense of himself and his mission.
Schillebeeckx sees the eschatologi.cal prophet as the basic matrix of New
Testament professions of faith, the proto-creeds. There are four kinds
of such confessions, traceable to pre-New Testament sources, and synthesized in the Easter Christology. The first kind was the parousia category, Jesus is master of the future, the judge to come and eschatological
Savior of the world. Implicitly, this was already a Christology. The second
primitive confession was that Jesus is a doer of great signs, a wonder-worker,
the ' divine man ' in the Solomon line of a royal benefactor full of goodness and wisdom who must undergo contumely but who will be vindicated by God. The third proto-credal category is found in the sapiential
Christologies: Jesus comes forth from God, he is sent by divine Wisdom,
even identified with Wisdom. The fourth is paschal Christology, centered
on the death and resurrection of Jesus; this developed last, even though
it came to dominate. All four approaches express dimensions of the life
of Jesus: announcing the kingdom of God, doing good, revealing the
mystery of God by revealing man to himself, and, though executed, yet
vindicated by God.
How move from the death of Jesus to Christian proclamation of his
resurrection? For Jesus death is already victory. Jesus has met his fate
and mastered it; he has conquered finitude by service to his fellowmen.
To attempt a theology without the message and mission that led to the
death of Jesus misses the saving significance of the cross. A classic modern
example of such missing the point was R. Bultmann's explanation of the
execution of Jesus as simply a 'tragic error.'
The death of Jesus was not an historical accident; it was the consequence of his radical life-style and uncompromising message. Jesus did
not court suffering, he did not seek death, but he was so committed that
the deadly consequences of his activities did not deter him. As Schilleheeckx puts it, " Although Jesus likely never preached his death as an
event of salvation, his death on the cross, given the pattern of suffering
and injustice, was the consequence of his words and deeds to which he
was more committed than to his own life. "
This resurrection is the divine ratification of the life of Jesus; God redressed the injustice of his execution. The resurrection confirms what was
already present in the life and death of Jesus. Resurrection means victory over death, the last enemy. It took a long time for the Judaism
of the Hebrew Bible to reach the conviction that death could not break
the true life of union with the living God. The belief that Jesus was
the eschatological prophet who spoke with God face to face led the first
Christians to say that in his case the power of death had been broken.

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Jesus cannot be separated from God; there is a new presence of Jesus
among us in the power of the Spirit.
What is involved here, the author insists, is not simply a human
experience in the face of a theory of survival, without foundation and
incapable of verification (desperation?) , but a real human experience
face to face with a real religious experience, i.e., the Christian attitude
towards death.
The oldest pre-New Testament confession of faith in the resurrection
was in the form of the parousia of this prophet as being the coming of
the parousia credo, for if Jesus is the one to come, then he must be living.
The experience of salvation as forgiveness given in the Risen Jesus ante..
dated reflection on his personality. Soteriology came before Christology.
Developing his particular theory about the resurrection, Schillebeeckx
holds that whatever the function of the empty tomb and whatever the
historical significance of visual elements in the appearance accounts, faith
in the resurrection of Jesus cannot have its foundation in either the
empty tomb (though historically probable) or in the visual elements of
the New Testament accounts (we have seen ... ) . Even Paul, he holds,
did not claim to have seen Jesus. For Paul the 'seeing of Jesus' was a
Christological seeing, an understanding of Jesus as the Christ made possible
by grace alone.
What is sure about the resurrection? Here is Schillebeeckx's answer
on this central point, never out of mind throughout the entire book.
First, faith in the resurrection is not man's invention but God's free
gift in and by Jesus. Second, a human psychological experience was
involved. These were new experiences, not simply reflections on what
Jesus had been before his death. A conversion experience, forgiveness,
came first, and with it the awareness that Jesus must still be alive even
after death, for only the living Jesus can forgive. Peter was the first to
have this forgiveness experience, and once confirmed (or converted) he
gathered around himself the other disciples who had dispersed after the
shameful death of their Master. The author is at pains to dissociate himself
from the position of W. Marxsen, who limits the background of the resurrection to experiences the disciples had of the earthly Jesus. The New
Testament makes it clear the initiative comes from Christ; it does so by
means of the vertical images of the heavenly Jesus. Yet Schillebeeckx
leaves hanging the question, "Did they see Jesus? " by asking rhetorically,
" ... did they see Jesus, as Paul saw Peter?"
Faith in the resurrection has its foundation in the pentecostal experience, that is, the experience of the Church that Jesus is living with the
Father and in the community of his followers. Easter and Pentecost go
together: Christ with the Father (Easter and Ascension) is among his
own who are in the world (Pentecost) . " I would say that it is only
through Pentecost, that is, by the experience in faith of the presence

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of the living Christ, that the disciples know that Jesus is risen (Easter
and Ascension)."
Even non-believing historians must admit the change the disciples underwent after the death of Jesus, proven by their preaching so short a
time afterwards. The New Testament speaks of their initial doubts; could
it be that the death of Jesus brought home to them that he was the
eschatological prophet, that the kingdom had come? Does St. Mark in
referring to Peter's tears at cockcrow allude to a metanoia already in
effect, to an awareness of Jesus as Savior? Schillebeeckx replies that the
resurrection cannot be thus reduced. The resurrection must not be simply
identified with faith in the resurrection, even though the New Testament
says Jesus appeared to believers (John 14, 19). All the same, the objective and the subjective must not be separated in the integral concept of
the resurrection: the objective is the real resurrection of Jesus, his elevation with the Father; the subjective is the experience of faith expressed
in the appearance accounts. The total paschal event is the Easter experience of the disciples with its source in the Risen One. Resurrection means
Jesus was raised from the dead, but it means also the Father has given
the Risen One to a community, the Church. In "the stories about Jesus
' making himself seen ' after his death ... there is enunciated the Christological identification of Jesus of Nazareth, experienced as a sheer act of
grace on God's part and as ground and source of the Church's mission. "
The resurrection means also the heavenly presence of Jesus among us.
" His resurrection is at the same time the sending of the Spirit and the
gathering of the dispersed disciples. " Schillebeeckx is not out to demythologize the appearances of the Risen Jesus (p. 710, note 119, for his statement on this). No doubt about the strength with which Schillebeeckx
proposes his reading of the meaning of resurrection, yet this reviewer is
doubtful about the clarity of his position. 'Easter experience' is an
ambiguous expression, notes the author; has he resolved the ambiguity?
Schillebeeckx eschews both empiricism and fideism. The resurrection of
Jesus and his heavenly presence among his own are aspects of one and
the same reality in such a way that it is in the renewed presence of Jesus
and by that presence that the disciples know what has happened to him" He is risen." The appearance narratives speak consistently of the mission of the disciples. As for the appearances, Schillebeeckx insists he is
not eliminating them, but holds the heart of the matter is the experience
the followers of Jesus had of his presence in their midst after his death,
however their emotions worked on them, visually, by hearing, or in whatever way.
In the Lumiere et Vie article, Schillebeeckx puts as a final question:
"Is belief in survival after death an evasion? " He answers with another
question: " Without attaching value to present life as a union with God
already begun, what value would a future life hold?" Union with God

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now involves service to neighbor in love. Faith in the resurrection gives
the Christian limitless, undaunted, unquenchable freedom and an openness able to confront the powers of this world (Ephesians 6: 12-13).
There are many particular points of interest in this book: a glossary of
technical terms, flashes of wit, e.g., poking fun at the Cafe called The
Whale, frequented by Jonas; defense of accurate use of historical terms,
for example, the expressions of early Councils which have a fixed meaning,
pace Schoonenberg; sensitive reflection on the mystery of suffering. Questions might be put about the one-sided approach to the Virgin Birth
(virginal conception of Jesus) where Schillebeeckx accepts without question a prevailing exegetical opinion that is not the only possible one, and
the second century apocryphal midwife does not advance the argument.
I have sought to do this review without depending on the many others
currently appearing, I would call attention to only one review which
appeared of late: a major review titled The Pre-EMter Jesus and Christology, by Reginald H. Fuller, in Interpretation 34 (July, 1980) 293-296.
Fuller finds without warrant the peculiar stand Schillebeeckx takes on
the earliest appearance references. So much of the Schillebeeckx argument
on the resurrection of Jesus rests on this factor, that I believe Fuller's
exegetical dissent should be carefully noted.
From the viewpoint of a friendly critic who finds much to praise, Fuller
faults Schillebeeckx for his assessment of the earliest Easter traditions, in
the pre-Pauline list of appearances of I Cor. 15: 3 ff. Schillebeeckx gives
his own interpretation to the chain of ophthe's in I Cor. 15. In Fuller's
judgment these are primary reports, not secondary reflections on conversion experiences. Fuller wonders too if the difference from Marxsen is as
great as Schillebeeckx would like it to be, for if the ' resurrection idea '
is only one of several possible interpretations for the conversion experience of the disciples, how much does this differ from Marxsen's ' the cause
of Jesus continues '? In his book Schillebeeckx seems to infer that something happened to Jesus himself, not simply to his converted followers.
Fuller asks if Schillebeeckx is willing to say right out that God brought
the Crucified One to life again. In my judgment the Christological case of
Schillebeeckx stands or falls with the answer to that question. It should
be noted finally that along with occasional pleas for understanding the
author asks readers at the start to read and weigh the entire book, and
at the very end repeats the hope that his book assist " a kind of believing
that really tells." His final fear about the book's being marked down for
sale in a curio shop is not likely to occur soon.
EAMoN R. CARROLL, 0.Carm.
Loyola University
Chicago, Illinois

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Catholic Theology in the Nineteenth Century: The Quest for a Unitary
Method. By GERALD A. McCooL. New York: The Seabury Press,
1977. Pp. 300. $14.95.
The centennial of the encyclical Aeterni Patris provides the occasion to
rethink the significance of this important document in light of presentday challenges, questions, and crises facing Catholic theology and philosophy. Fr. McCool's book is an appropriate starting-point since it retraces
the developments, achievements, and painful conflicts of Catholic theology
during the years between Aeterni Patris and the Second Vatican Council.
Such an historical exercise is necessary in order for the modern theologian
to place himself in the continuing debate which constitutes the evolution
of Catholic theology in its response to the challenge of post-Enlightenment thought. As a major part of this evolution McCool suggests, early in
the book, that the result of the current historical interest may be an
authentic pluralism, the possibility of a genuine option between a developed Thomism and a restored pre-Thomistic nineteenth century system.
McCool's study necessarily begins with the drafting of Dei Filius and
Aeterni Patris. Among the important matters in Dei Filius (April !i!!i!,
1870) were the Council's affirmation of the existence of an eternal, free,
omnipotent, and personal God and the affirmation that God's existence and
a number of divine attributes could be known with certainty by natural
reason.

Against the "blind

leap"

approach to faith favored by the Prot-

estant pietist tradition, Dei Filius defended the reasonableness of the assent
of faith, a reasonableness that would be challenged by many philosophers,
most notably the ontologists and the Kantians. Moreover, Aeterni Patris
(August 4, 1879) mapped the three functions philosophy must serve in the
Church. First, as an apologetic, philosophy could establish important truths
and arguments by natural reason. Second, it could invest sacred theology
with the nature, habit, and character of a genuine science. Finally, it
could provide sound arguments which the Church would employ in its
controversies with opponents. The encyclical asserts: "Those therefore
are the best philosophers who combine the pursuit of philosophy with dutiful obedience to the Catholic faith, for the splendor of the divine truths
irradiating the soul is a help to the intelligence; it does not deprive it of the
least degree of its dignity, but even brings it an increase of nobility, acuteness and strength" (italics added) . The " best " philosophers, then, join
their mature scholarly work with the possession of truth founded on faith.
Nevertheless, the encyclical includes an important qualification to its
advocacy of the wisdom of St. Thomas. " If there is any proposition too
subtly investigated or too inconsiderately taught by the Doctors of the
School, any tenet of theirs not strictly in conformity with subsequent dis-

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coveries or in any way improbable in itself, it is no part of our intention
to propose that for the imitation of our time. "
Joseph Kleutgen, who was the most original, profound, and influential
of the Jesuit neo-Thomists, was instrumental in the formulation of a
putative perennial Thomism. McCool recounts the Thomistic revival
through Liberatore and Kleutgen, marking the key points in the debate.
The debate within Catholic theology was threefold, among Georg Hermes's
semirationalism, Tubingen traditionalism, and the scholasticism of the
Roman College. Along with the ontologism of Rosmini and Gioberti, the
dualism of Gunther served to upset the promoters of the neo-Thomist
movement. Matteo Liberatore attacked the ontologists and Kleutgen took
up arms against Gunther as well as the Tubingen theologians and Hermes's
semirationalism.
McCool records the fact that the problem with many of the contending theological schools of thought was their inability to meet the demands
of Catholic theology. One of the more important demands is that the
assent of faith must be supernatural, and the act of faith must transcend
the limits of natural knowledge and the philosophical order. Subsequently,
the major issue in the debate between the neo-Thomists and the postKantians was the ability of their respective methods to handle adequately
the Catholic teaching on faith and reason, on grace and nature. Leo
XIII's support of neo-Thomism in priestly formation, writes McCool,
rested on the conviction that the Thomistic metaphysics of substance and
accident could preserve the necessary distinction between grace and nature
which post-Kantian metaphysics could not seem to preserve. In addition,
Thomas's theory of knowledge avoided the confusion between natural and
supernatural knowledge of God which post-Kantian intuitive epistemology
could not avoid because Kant's necessary and universal intellectual
world left no room for revealed religion.
These historical considerations bring Fr. McCool to make two of the
most important points found in the book. First of all, Fr. McCool forcefully recounts the emerging pluralism which resulted from the debates
between neo-Thomistic and non-scholastic theologians as well as the debates within neo-Thomistic theology itself. Secondly, he compares the
modern theological methods and the scholastic theological method in order
to measure fairly the complaints of modern theologians against the effectiveness of the scholastic method.
To illustrate the first point, McCool shows how Liberatore's philosophical synthesis resulted in two contending Thomistic groups. As far as
Liberatore was concerned, the epistemology and metaphysics of abstraction in St. Thomas resolved the problem of objectification without resorting to Kantian apriorism or to an ontologism. Yet Liberatore's metaphysics did not include the act of existence; hence his notion of being
differs from St. Thomas's. When this issue of objectification again arose,

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the Thomists divided into rival groups. One group, which included Etienne
Gilson and Jacques Maritain, sought the solution in the intelligibility of
the contingent act of existence of sensible singulars. The second group,
those in the rival camp of Joseph
looked for the solution to
the infinite act of existence which is the final cause of the active intellect.
Fr. McCool argues that even in the unitary system of the neo-Thomists
the seeds of a future Thomistic pluralism could be found. The differences
between the new and old theology are clear enough. Thomistic theology
is presently characterized by historical openness, the evolutionary character of its thought, and its sensitivity to the plurality of cultural and
conceptual frameworks. As Lonergan and Rahner have shown, the Aristotelian scientific method, which buttressed scholasticism, could cope
neither with history nor with the spiritual life of the human subject.
Kleutgen's uncritical adherence to this method blinded him to the metaphysical resources within Thomas's work which could almost satisfy the
demands of the Tlibingen theologians. Emphasized in the Tiibingen theology and ignored by Kleutgen were the organic nature of the Kingdom of
God, its historical realization in time, the place of living tradition within
the Church, and the role of the Holy Spirit as the Church's vital source of
unity.
Kleutgen gave impetus to neo-Thomism and its development, but that
development might appear strange to Kleutgen. This unfamiliarity would
result from the openness of much modern Thomism to post-Cartesian philosophy, its subjective starting-point, its denial that the contingent forms
of sensible singulars can ground the necessity of " abstract " essences and
metaphysical first principles, and its stress on the divine existence, grasped
within the mind, as the necessary condition for the objectivity of human
knowledge.
Fr. McCool then addresses the second point-modern theology's criticism of scholasticism. Scholasticism was taken to task because its alleged
deficiencies could not pl'otect the Catholic faith against the inroads of
skepticism and pantheism. Modern theology claimed it could defend
Catholic truth and meet the demand for certainty, necessity, completeness, coherence, and scientific rigor. Kleutgen's work necessarily fell prey
to this critique. Kleutgen's weakness was his oversight regarding the role
of cultural development or of different conceptual frameworks in the history
of thought. Despite his careful and fair reading of historical sources,
Kleutgen interpreted them in terms of his own conceptual framework of
post-Reformation scholasticism. Fr. McCool asserts that this weakness
became, in fact, the source of a widespread malaise in Catholic theology
in the first half of the twentieth century.
In light of the pluralism and the multiple critiques of modern theology,
modern philosophers and theologians might ask what, if any, is the connection between the Thomism of the New Theologians, Rahner and

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Lonergan, and the Thomism of their neo-Thomistic ancestor, Kleutgen?
Fr. McCool is clear in his answer. The connection is found in the Thomistic
theory of knowledge and the anthropology Kleutgen employed to support
his Aristotelian metaphysics of nature and supernature. This theory of
knowledge demands a substantial union between soul and body. This
epistemology also sees intellect as abstractive, where abstraction and analogy rather than direct and intuitive knowledge of God singles out the
scholastic approach to God.
Just as Catholic Theology in the Nineteenth Century is about the emerging pluralism in theology and its openness to new developments, it is also
an attempt to reopen avenues blocked by philosophical and theological
polemics which sometimes led to condemnation. McCool's historical examination is an effort to continue unlocking doors to a dialogue regarding
viable alternatives for Catholic philosophy and theology to explore in
their attempt to speak persuasively to the challenges of the contemporary
intellectual community.
One would hope that McCool's approach toward pluralism within
Catholic theology will be adopted toward the pluralism of faiths. Alongside the plurality of reasons for different positions regarding the Catholic
faith, there is the plurality of faiths which must be addressed reasonably.
This must be achieved in such a way as to preserve what is distinctive
of the Catholic faith and its truths without closing off arbitrarily and
uncritically the different avenues and ways to truths and to the Truth. As
McCool himself proclaims, one of the great teachings of Aeterni Patris is
the importance of tradition and the necessity of contact with revelation in
a Christian philosophy.
The task of the modern theologian, says McCool, clearly demands that
theological thought be historical. Both historical thought and being are
intelligible but that intelligibility McCool believes cannot be captured in
a definitive metaphysical system. Consequently, McCool suggests, " All
. . . the contemporary theologian can hope to do is to point to that
intelligibility as it reveals itself through its historical expressions. The
theologian can do no more than show how historical thought can mediate
a living tradition and the institutions which carry that tradition and its
spirit without ceasing to be historical." Unfortunately, McCool seems
to retreat from the more forceful thrust he gives theology in the earlier
sections of his book. But this guarded optimism should be interpreted in
light of the intellectual thrust of the work. His vision is one of prudence
reflecting the wisdom gained through past mistakes. Fr. McCool urges
upon us a demanding and continuing task, but one which must be performed with humility.
JAMES

Bellarmine College
Louisville, Kentucky

J. VALONE

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Death, Dying, and the Biological Revolution: Our Last Quest For Responsibility. By RoBERT M. VEATCH. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1976. Pp. 323 including index and bibliography.
This book's three major themes are: (I) establishing the category difference between technical questions of medical feasibility and ethical questions
of moral legitimacy; (2) defining ' death ' and ' dying ' so as to elucidate
the difference between medical treatments which support life and those
which "prolong dying "; and (3) showing the difficulty of articulating a
public policy-not to mention an established medical ethic-about the dying
and the recently dead in a society so pluralistic as almost to be antinomian.
Veatch knows that these are questions of the first complexity, and avoids
stating his views as dogma, occasionally leaving his own opinion on the
issues unclear. Properly, he also avoids mechanically spinning out theorems
based on axioms of ethics. The book's greatest value is the critical sensitivity with which it exposes and dissects the levels of these problems.
Relations between ethics, policy, and medical feasibility are often uneasy,
and Veatch appreciates this fact. He is also well-informed concerning both
recent law on the topics and the current state of the medical art.
The most philosophically interesting section is Veatch's analysis of four
competing definitions of ' death '. His novel position is that it is as morally
offensive to treat dead individuals as living as it traditionally has been to
treat the living as though they were dead. His choice of definition is the
" irreversible loss of capacity for social interaction "; his justification for
this choice, in contrast to the " capacity for bodily integration ", is the
neurologic fact that the autonomic, medullary controls for fluid circulation
and for some reflexes (e.g. yawning) can persist in a person whose EEG is
irreversibly isoelectric for what Veatch calls the higher functions, such as
thought, reason, and emotion. (His note on " permanent back ward psychotics or senile individuals " needs amplification, though, since they aren't
brain stem cases and equally clearly have no capacity for social interaction.)
His meticulous analysis of the medical and legal options in defining death
supports his thesis, put rhetorically: "How could medical research possibly
discover that death should be pronounced when brain function rather than
heart function has stopped irreversibly? " (Italics added).
The book's focus-especially seen in chapters 3, 4, and 5-is on the results of this definition of death in the realm of public policy. He begins
with an exploration of some of the concurrent problems: active vs. passive
euthanasia, " slippery slope " consequences, and " extraordinary " medical
intervention.
His decisive move is to recast all these arguments from the perspective
of the patient who acts as agent in his own behalf. " ... To view the moral

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issue from the standpoint of rights and obligations of the patients rather
than from the moral alternatives of physicians ... changes the character of
the discussion. The consequences are predictable. The patient (or his
agent) should decide what interventions are acceptable, whether extended
respiratory support for a cerebrally dead patient is "extraordinary", and
so on. Veatch is in the " reasonable man " camp with this sort of guideline,
and as many reasonable man theorists are, he is compelled quickly to admit
legal recourse in deciding" reasonableness " (and, similarly, " grave burdensomeness" of treatments). Given the spectrum of judicial good sense and
lack of it which Veatch recounts, one wonders how the practical consequences of his principle will improve on current policy. He reviews the
refusal-of-treatment cases, including the Jehovah's Witness blood transfusion cases and the Down's syndrome infants with intestinal blockages,
and discusses the Quinlan matter most astutely, concluding, in parallel with
the New Jersey Supreme Court, that "refusal of death-prolonging treatments should be seen as radically different from and normally more reasonable than refusal of lifesaving treatments."
(As noted above, Veatch
appreciates that " gravely burdensome treatment " has almost as much of
a subjective element as does the "reasonableness " of a refusal.) While
Veatch's section on definitions of death suggests that patients choose between cardiopulmonary, bodily-integrative, and social-competence definitions, but not outside these, no such guide for " reasonableness " or
" burdensomeness " seems forthcoming-a difficulty probably inherent in
the subject-matter. Veatch finally considers policy options to empower
persons more explicitly to control their own final care. The salient feature
of his proposal is that refusal of death-prolonging interventions shall not be
construed as prima facie evidence of diminished competency, as is not infrequently seen in current legal battles.
One senses Veatch foundering on two terribly difficult problems in this
section. He seems compelled to admit that there is no morally safe way
to legalize active killing of patients even when they have good reason, and
full competence, to request it. Yet the moral necessity of having such an
option available seems to follow inescapably from the reasoning of the
section, even with the self-conscious reminder that the control of one's final
care " represents the development of modern Western philosophical individualistic voluntarism." Second, his having to turn to the courts for adjudication of" reasonableness" seems almost to presuppose an adversary relationship between patient and physician, which situation in fact is quite rare.
Such problems are examined in detail in his discussion of policy guidelines.
He concludes that an individual's own perceptions of what is needful for
his " dignity and humanness " should control decisions on treatment, and
goes so far as bluntly to state that " the physician should never be placed
in the position of deciding to stop or omit treatment", turning rather to
the courts for guardianship when the patient (or his agent) has not ex-

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pressed an opinion while competent to do so. The position follows straightforwardly from the two preceding chapters.
In his last and least perspicuous chapter Veatch undertakes " a case for
the goodness of life, even for the ideal of immortality," in the face of a
"possibly romantically elitist" concept of natural death. (The problem,
of course, arises from the presence of the most troublesome word in the
philosophical lexicon, "natural".)
His intention seems to be to reaffirm
death as an evil, in contrast to the more recent acceptance of it, but also
to argue the relative acceptability of certain deaths-presumably those following termination of extreme technological intervention.
The book's excellent sensitivity to different levels of individual dilemmas
is praiseworthy. But from its decisive move-restating moral problems
from the patient's perspective-a difficulty emerges. There is an extensive
tradition running counter to "individualistic voluntarism," implicitly invoked whenever a physician does something uncomfortable to his patient.
The tradition has it that the physician is trying to get the upper hand, not
of the patient or of his voluntarism, but of his illness. Since he is a professional, the physician's medical judgment is, at least in life-saving rather
than in death-prolonging treatments, normally more reasonable than the
layman's. Voluntarism sometimes obscures the difference between layman
and professional, to the detriment of the one and the frustration of the
other. Met with intransigent refusal of, say, a minor and routine intravenous line, a physician would probably say words to the effect of " Don't
practice medicine for me," not " Don't make ethical judgments for me."
The decision for the IV is medical, not ethical. It seems that somewhere a
line should exist between the practices of medicine and of individualistic
voluntarism. Though it surely is one of this book's virtues to articulate the
limitations of expertise, the prevailing wind of mistrust of experts and of
expertise sometimes obscures that line. Lacking a criterion of " reasonableness " (or " grave burdensomeness ") it is easy to see the resort to the
courts to adjudicate such problems.
JonN RuDOFF

108 Harvey St.
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

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The Heretical Imperative: Contemporary Possibilities of Religious Affirmation. By PETER L. BERGER. Garden City: Anchor Press, Doubleday,
1979. Pp. xv + Q07. $9.95.
Few writers had as much influence on religious and theological thought
in the 1960's as did the sociologist Peter L. Berger. His The Sacred Canopy
(1967) delineated convincingly the ways in which religions (including
Christianity) arise as social constructs and themselves engage in the social
construction of reality (both this-worldly and other-worldly). One effect of
such a sociology of knowledge has always been to suggest that all these
social constructions are, at best, so many subjective approaches to an unknowable realm and that they are perhaps all equally illusory. Berger's A
Rumor of Angels (1970) was his effort to show why and how one might
engage, formally and informally, in the theological enterprise even after
subscribing to the analyses of The Sacred Canopy. Now after ten years, he
has returned to the same task in The Heretical Imperative.
Berger entitles this new study of the " contemporary possibilities of religious affirmation " The Heretical Imperative because he wishes to stress
the necessity of choosing (playing on the Greek verb hairein, to choose) in
which the modern situation places human beings. The main feature of this
situation, as it bears on religion, is not so much secularization as it is
pluralism. Modernity brings with it a multiplication of possibilities and an
acute consciousness that the possibilities are available. At other times and
in other cultures, people may have been, in principle, able to choose between
life-styles and world-views; but in modern societies picking and choosing
become an inescapable and often unhappy necessity for nearly everyone.
And, once a person has elected to follow one path rather than another, he
remains aware that he does so out of choice. This awareness has profound
consequences for religious authority and religious community, but what
Berger wishes to stress here, as in A Rumor of Angels, is not so much the
sociological situation as the strategies for choosing.
The basic argument should be a familiar one for readers of the earlier
books. The author notes two procedures which he regards as fundamentally
inadequate. First of all, there is the deductive strategy in which one reaffirms the tradition. The person confronted with the unsettling dissonance
introduced by modernity can put the challenge aside and say once more,
"It is so, and it can be no other." Although he sees it worked out in a
variety of forms in different cultures, Berger takes Karl Barth and neoorthodoxy as the paradigm. The strength of this response is that it highlights the authoritative element in religious life; its weakness is that it
denies the human conditions and connections of Christian faith. The polar
extreme of neo-orthodoxy is reductionism, and here Rudolf Bultmann's
demythologization project serves as paradigmatic for all those theological

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maneuvers which allow the wisdom of the age to control the interpretation
of religion. The two fatal weaknesses of such maneuvers are that they tend
to liquidate themselves in favor of purely secular readings of the world and
that they normally involve too simplistic a view of modernity itself.
Berger's own way through the Scylla of deductionism and the Charybdis
of reductionism still bears the name inductionism. Lying behind it are the
convictions that locating religion as a human project says nothing about the
truth-value of religious experience and religious belief and that the import
of the project must be determined by calling forth all the resources available
to people today. By induction, he means" taking human experience as the
starting-point of religious reflection and using the methods of the historian
to uncover those human experiences that have become embodied in the
various religious traditions." The representative figure here is Friedrich
Schleiermacher, and Berger makes it clear (no doubt to the surprise of
some who have been reading his writings over the past few years) that he
shares the theological liberalism of Schleiermacher and Ernst Troeltsch. It
is a liberalism which allows one to stand firm as a Christian while acknowledging his fallibility and while looking for the truth in other people's experience. A Rumor of Angels was no less a liberal enterprise, but what
makes The Heretical Imperative different is its accent not on the rumor
present in everyday existence, but rather on the thunderous break-throughs
at the origin of all religious traditions. Indeed Berger would now have
Christian theologians attend considerably less to the confrontation with
secular systems of thought and more to the encounter with non-Western
religions. Thus his last chapter negotiates the territory between Jerusalem
and Benares.
The Heretical Imperative is a delight to read. As always, Berger writes
with grace and clarity; and he has an extraordinary knack for evoking an
image which fixes a difficult concept or a complex situation in the reader's
mind. And, in the end, there are few books which lay out the options facing
religious thought as well as does this one. Finally, it is hard for the reviewer to see what alternative there is but the middle strategy proposed in
its pages. If facing up to the whole range of human experience without a
priori limits concerning possible interpretations and decisions is the essence
of theological liberalism, then we must all be liberals. What is missing,
though, in The Hemtical Imperative is a serious treatment of the ways in
which people can sort out the evidence before them. It is one thing to be
committed to an open examination of experience in all its varieties and
dimensions, but it is another to suggest a method for determining its meaning and truth-value. Sankara and Thomas Aquinas and Ludwig Feuerbach
all adopted an inductive approach and reached radically different conclusions
because of diverse epistemologies, metaphysics, prejudices, faiths and so on.
In fact, in the case of Aquinas, induction led to deduction; and, in that of
Feuerbach, it led to reduction. Perhaps their enterprises would have been

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enriched by traversing the terrain between Jerusalem and Benares, but it is
hard to see how they would have been changed fundamentally. The most
valuable thing Berger could do for us now would be to go beyond delineating
our religious situation and sketching the broad options and to take up in
print and in detail the task of responding to the heretical imperative. In a
sense, A Rurrwr of Angels was a superior book inasmuch as it involved a
rudimentary effort of this type in its final chapters. With The Heretical
Imperative, the scope of theology has been clarified and broadened, but the
real philosophical and theological labor remains to be accomplished.
MICHAEL

J. KERLIN

La Salle College
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

A General Theory of Secularization. By DAVID MARTIN. New York: Harper
and Row, 1978. Pp. 841.

The author's contribution to understanding the process of secularization
is very significant. One of the essential points of his analysis is expressed
by him in the following words: " I want to suggest under what conditions
religious institutions, like churches and sects, become less powerful and
how it comes about that religious beliefs are less easily accepted " (p. H) .
He stresses also the important difference between religious beliefs and religious institutions.
For him religion is " a creature of the realm of symbol, feeling and meaning " (p. 13) . He has constructed an empirical theory of secularization.
Through the whole book, we see sacred and secular in constant dialectical
and dynamic interaction. Revolution is one of the outcomes of this dialectical process. Whether this revolution is an act which divides internally or
unites society against something external is crucial to the process of secularization. In his words, " almost every revolution tends to move to
extremes, and extremes directed outwards draw off extremism directed inwards. The frame acquired by America revolting against England, Holland,
against Spain is one of unity against oppression, whereas the frame acquired
by France is one of disunity between one Frenchman and another " (p. 16) .
Religion has a tendency to be identified with a particular political position.
When religion and political institutions are " independent " or in a state of
equilibrium, and conflicts are not superimposed one on the other, secularization is in a state of" sleep". It is quite like Vulcan Vesuvius for the time
being. But Vulcan may be reactivated anytime, showing his power. So can
secularization.
The author analyzes different models which reflect the relationship be-

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tween political and religious institutions. Monopoly is one of them. Where
there exists one religion possessed of a monopoly, society necessarily splits
into two warring roles, one of which, obviously, is dedicated to religion (for
example: Spain, Portugal, Italy, Belgium, France). All Orthodox societies
have also approximated the Monopoly Model. Similarly where there are
two or more religions, or distinct forms of the same religion, monopoly is
not established. The second model is called "Duopoly," in which the
Protestant Church is the major partner (England, Australia, New Zealand,
Canada, etc.). The third model may be called The Mixed Model (Holland,
Germany and Switzerland) . The fourth model the author called The
Pluralistic Model. The United States is a good example of the last. In this
last model society does not split into warring groups but into competing
although mutually tolerant parties each supported by the various denominations.
In the Orthodox monopolistic countries there usually is visible an instance of extreme collision between Church and State. In Russia, for
instance, this is visible where society is secularized; the Church is not.
Based on degrees of pluralism, maximal in America and minimal in Russia,
the author suggested that religious pluralism is strongly associated with the
stability of pluralistic democratic regimes and religious monopoly with the
incidence of militant secular religions. Religion in the United States is
formally excluded from school and state because its pattern is federalist
both in politics and religion. Social order is legitimated by a civil religion.
The universalization of dissent permits religion to take on as many images
as there are social faces.
In the society with the right-wing pattern the Church usually initiates
the movement towards differentiation from the presence of political authority. In the left-wing pattern the Church partly resists that differentiation
which the State demands. The right-wing state is using religion as a means
to a political end. The left-wing state is trying to replace religion by
politics. Needless to say, religion has to disagree with both approaches. In
the left-wing state, the Church is at the mercy of secularist elites, which
want to control Church activities and provide a functional alternative to
religion by politics. According to Martin, communism became in Sweden
an accepted political religion in the areas which were isolated and devaluated, for instance economically. " Communism acts as the available valve
of discontent and normative exclusion" (p. 69). At the same time, religion
defends the integrity of culture. This is particularly strong when the national myth and religion overlap. In fact, this positive overlap is necessary
because the majority of people cannot accept too sharp a contradiction
between religious faith and their group or motivational identity. Needless
to say, when national myth and religion are contradictory the social power
of religion has to be restricted.
Only a small group or groups (sects) can survive such a contradiction

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when they are looking to create an alternative society. In essence, Europe
has a record of the overlap of national myth and religion where the national
identity is either rooted directly in religion or possibly related to it. A
typical example is the role the church plays in Scottish identity. Similarly,
the Church in Russia was the soul of nationhood in the past. To this day,
being Russian and being Orthodox amount to the same thing. In addition,
where the church has been the sole available vehicle of nationality against
foreign denomination, as in Greece, Cyprus, Poland, Belgium, Ireland, and
Croatia, an indivisible union of church and nation arises which acquires
the " sacramental " power combined with overtones of a suffering Messianic
role. One finds this in Poland. The similar function of identity is performed by religion for migrants. In the case of England and the United
States, religion has been the sole source of migrant identity.
In the discussion of the pattern of secular monopoly, Martin suggested
that the churches are the only exceptions to the ideological monopoly attempted by the government. Paradoxically, liberalism and nationalism,
which the church fought in the nineteenth century, became its allies in the
twentieth. In the case of Christianity, Martin points out, there was always
the social differentiation between an earthly kingdom and a heavenly kingdom, likewise between Church and State at the symbolic level, and usually
at the organizational level. However, " Christianity encounters a vigorous
Durkheimian pull towards a total unity of Church and State, and even
when that unity has been broken, there remains a pull towards collusion
between fundamental social and religious values " (p. !?!78).
Next Martin analyzes more in detail the relationship between Christianity
and society. He distinguishes phase one, consisting in the collusion of
Church and State (for instance, respecting fundamental values) , which still
persists today. The integration of religion and society characteristic of
phase one is based on an acceptance of Church and clergyman as ontologically part of the social order, and not so much on regular attendance at
church, or on strict adherence to Christian precept. The second phase is
characterized by increasing differentiation of the sectors which are removed,
then become secularized; as a consequence, the Church and its clergy become more religious. Multiple secular roles of clergy and the pragmatic
secularity under phase one disappear with an emphasis on the specifically
religious aspects of the clerical role, which is expressed in a form such as
a sanctification of the Church, of clerical orders, of rituals, or a sanctification
of individual persons.
In phase three appears the translation of Christian concepts into secular
equivalents, for instance: communion-community, sin-alienation, or holinesswholeness. These processes bring us to the power of a secular ideology in
general. If people are simply creatures of environment, it is difficult to see
the relationship between individual morality and social justice. It seems
that collective ills are susceptible to individual initiative. At the same time,

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the clergy feels able to locate and stigmatize an evil without adopting a
party political system.
In conclusion, Dr. Martin presents his very sound theory of secularization intuitively and rigorously. He is careful to point out that this theory
is rooted empirically in the religious-political reality of the societies taken
under consideration.
He stresses polarity as a natural process; every system has a countersystem; the periodicity process whereby any system undergoes a process of
organization results in emergent properties of a supersystem which are not
visible in its subsystems. He also reveals the formation preference-the
formation of a system implies a selection among alternatives with a very
clear information system, i.e., the norms incorporated in a system become
normally a fixed source of information for this system. The author has
demonstrated that secularization is a dynamic process particularly, but not
exclusively, visible in industrial societies. There are the crucial events in
each society, such as war or revolution, which may increase or decrease the
secularization process. Here the history of Church-State relations within
the large context is admirably presented, analyzed, and documented. The
methodological solution promoted by Martin for the study of secularization
is a multidimensional, polymethodic, pluralistic approach. Secularization is
ultimately dependent upon the sort of social, political, and economic order
that prevails.
BRONISLAW

BAJON

Wayne State University
Detroit, Michigan

Systematic Philosophy. By JOHN E. VAN HooK. Hicksville: Exposition
Press, 1979. Pp. 147. $7.50.
Early (p. SO) in the course of this synoptic work there is some reference
to what might be called the principle of congruity between language and
the existent. Here accommodated so as to have some bearing on the matter
at hand, that principle could be said to require that a review of a book
entitled Systematic Philosophy be itself systematic. In keeping with that
dictate this review will consist (1) of a general overall response to the book,
a resume of the thematic of the book, {S) a limited critique which will
serve in the customary way as a setting for pointing out positive and problematic features of the book, {4) a brief notice concerning editorial format
of the book, and (5) a final word about the utilization potential of the book.
1. While it is no easy matter to check initial impressions, the fair thing
to do would be to permit the author of this rather small book to indicate
what he intends his book to be. The subtitle informs the reader that this is

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to be " An Overview of Metaphysics Showing the Development from the
Greeks to the Contemporaries with Specified Directions, Objections, and
Projections." Thus the perspective is to be that of overview, the focus that
of metaphysics, the theme that of development, the compass that of beginning to the present, and the methodology that of directions, objections,
and projections. Given this design of the book, the author is faced with
the task of selecting the genre or vehicle for presenting his case for such
development. Should this be in terms of notional unfolding ideologies or
should this be in terms of historic individuals and their philosophies? This
author chooses the latter alternative. Hence the resultant work is a combination of Thought History (Development of Ideas) and Person History
(History of Philosophers). The outcome of this, in turn, is a tension. It is
to be an overview, but it is to include some limited details. There are to
be some details, but these must be limited because it is to be an overview.
Thus the overall impression created by the book for this reviewer is that
the professional would appreciate more development, that the student would
appreciate more explanation, and that in the right classroom it could perhaps serve as a catalyst for both.
9l. Described in the most general of ways, the central theme of the book
is that of the advancement of that human hermeneutic of reality which has
come to be identified as philosophy. The initial refinement of this takes
place through the mediation and subsequent linking of two terms, viz.,
" systematic " and "metaphysics." Because its primary vocation is to address the real coherently (systematically) and fundamentally (metaphysically) , philosophy is at its base metaphysics. This initial refinement is extended by the explicitation of such notes proper to metaphysics as unity,
comprehensiveness, objectivity, reflexivity, "linguistics," open-endedness,
and pluralism.
Described, however, in a less encyclopedic and more precise way, the
thematic of the book is that the formal notes just mentioned, i.e., systematic and comprehensive, etc., become determinative for the detection of
genuine philosophies as these emerge in history as proposed hermeneutics.
Not only do these formal notes aid in such detection, but they also help to
account for the divergencies and variables between and in different philosophies or metaphysical systems. From Plato to Quine these constitute
the criteria for excluding or including and for distinguishing the systems
of thinkers.
Described, finally, in a still more precise way, Van Hook's theme is that
it is the presence of these formal notes that establishes a theory as a metaphysical system and that it is the variation in these notes that accounts for
the proliferation of such systems. With this emphasis on the formal notes
as contrasted with contents one is reminded of the content-form distinction
and of the debate over the interpretation of divine illumination theories.
3. It is with these things in mind that evaluation must be undertaken.

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Intimations were present in the concluding observations of sections 1 and
2. But these must be extended. On the side of the positive, the author
demonstrates a first-hand grasp of the philosophers on his philosophic roster
which could only come from a personal and direct study of their writings.
If these are components, he sees also that they are inter-related not merely
as" before and after" but in a way that makes for some sort of continuity,
unity amid variety. His special contribution is to argue that what accounts
for this continuity, this unity amid variety, is that metaphysics is the constant. There has been no constant metaphysics, but metaphysics has been
the constant. There has been no metaphyics which cannot be shown to be
in some ways lacking, but there has never been, since its beginning, any
lack of metaphysics. There has been no metaphysic which completely rules
out another, but never too was there a time when metaphysics was ruled
out. Not only can any metaphysics not rule out another completely, but
any metaphysic can be made more complete by another. Van Hook sees
philosophy as non-adversarial. Metaphysical systems are to be allies not
foes.
On the side of the problematic, there are those who would challenge this
interpretation. Those so prompted might come from the schools concerned
primarily with content as distinguished from form. Although this review
cannot do the matter justice, surely it can be argued that there are times
when there is that fundamental and substantive communality present that
allows systems to differ from one another without being incompatible.
Between such systems there would be divergencies, but they would not be
alien to one another. It is something else, however, to hold that one metaphysic can always be aligned in a significant manner with another. What
may well be critical is open-endedness. One can hardly quarrel with the
dismissal of any claim of finality (as meaning concluded or consummated)
for any system of philosophy or metaphysics. Thus open-endedness, as
contrasted with the concluded or the consummated, is surely a note proper
to a philosophy or metaphysic. But this need not be understood to preclude significant incompatibility between systems. Every system may be
enriched, but every system need not be substantially enriching for another.
Further, with the admission on the part of the reviewer that he may be
overly susceptible to reading Wolterstorffian overtones into the text prefacing what follows, attention might be directed to a particular problematic
text. On page 108 there appears the following sentence: "In these chapters
we have seen that a deductive system has never been successfully constructed." Bearing this in mind, we quite possibly catch here an echo of
the position which Nicholas Wolterstorff takes in his book Reason Within
the Bounds of' Religion (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing
Company, 1979) on the subject of Foundationalism. Understanding foundationalism to entail justification through a non-inferential and certain
ultimate (p. 25), Wolterstorff, while not maintaining that there has been

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an irreversible refutation of foundationalism (p. 86), writes that "it seems
to me that there is nothing to do but give it up for mortally ill and learn
to live in its absence (p. 5%!) ." Van Hook appears to be sympathetic with
this sentiment. But again, while surely no finalized deductive system of
metaphysics has ever been successfully constructed, this is not to say that
no deductive (foundationalistic) system of metaphysics has ever been
soundly and therefore successfully constructed.
The final reference in this critique section might be a kind of synthesis of
the positive and the problematic. This reference is to the ingredient of
language in the metaphysical enterprise (pp. 134-141). The linguistic factor
is understood by Van Hook as intrinsic to a metaphysic. " The elaboration
of what is presupposed by the way we talk about the world is simultaneously the elaboration of a metaphysical scheme and the development of a
level of self-awareness (p. 140) ." This understanding advisedly directs our
attention to the mounting philosophic appreciation of language as central
to all human intellectual activity. As given in the abbreviated fashion
necessitated by the boundaries of the book, however, not to speak of the
metaphysical maze to be traversed, all this will be problematical for many
a reader.
4. In a brief reference to the editorial format of the book one finds oneself thinking alternately of blueprint and construction. As blueprint the
major sections of the book clearly illuminate steps to be taken, and the
two final chapters entitled " Objections " and " Projections " are helpful
summarizations. One wonders, though, if so terse a resume of Berkeley (p.
71) can be of much service and if, although it is subsequently clarified, the
unwary reader might be misled by the kind of rapport initially described
as existent between Kant and metaphysics (pp. 78-81). Under the aspect
of construction the book has an index but no footnotes. The presence of
the former is something always most welcome (the reviewer belongs to the
society whose members share the conviction that with rare exception it
would be better for a book without an index not to have been born) . The
absence of footnotes, however, is a mixed blessing. It makes for brisk and
uninterrupted reading, but from time to time at least one feels a need for
primary source citation and deliberate examination.
5. For the reviewer who is a teacher, the question of usefulness inevitably
arises. This reviewer sees the book as a resource for either initial preview
or concluding digest. In the former case, it would be followed by the
process of uncrating and unpacking. In the latter case, it would be the
tight assembly of all the previously provided parts. So used, it could well
be a companion volume to works that offer similar assistance, e.g., William
A. Wallace, The Elements of Philosophy (New York: Alba House, 1977).
PAUL

Sacred Heart Seminary
Detroit, Michigan

c. BERG

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167

The Letters Of Saint Oliver Plunkett. Edited and Translated and with an
Introduction by John Hanly. Atlantic Highlands, New Jersey: Humanities Press, 1979. Pp. 599. $82.50.
One of the most tragic occurrences of the Reformation was that of a
priest or religious informing, sometimes even falsely, on another priest or
religious. One of the most startling things about the Reformation in Ireland
is that this was still happening as late as 1681. When Oliver Plunkett,
Archbishop of Armagh and Primate of Ireland from 1669 to 1681, went to
the scaffold, the chief witness against him was a Franciscan friar. Three
other Franciscans testified against him as well. Further comment on the
state of Church disunity is not necessary.
One of the constant themes of the letters of Archbishop Plunkett is the
dissolute state of religious life in his native Ireland. Cromwell has come
and gone. The Irish Catholic gentry have been impoverished and largely
displaced. The Dominicans have fled and returned, only to find their old
territories and parishes taken over by the Franciscans. And the religious
orders, except for the Capuchins and Jesuits, have generally resumed their
old quarrels and practices.
Archbishop Plunkett arrives in the middle of all this and seeks to remedy
whatever he can. He complains to Rome that the orders are sending only
their most troublesome brethren to Ireland and that they serve only to
drain the already meager resources of the island. Furthermore, he complains
of the multiplication of religious houses which brings about no corresponding
increase in labor:
The Franciscans have up to ten convents in the province and the Dominicans
about seven, and altogether they live in community; they do not catechize, they do
not preach and, to tell the truth, it seems that their whole purpose and aim is to
quest (beg) around about [and although there might be ten or twelve in one convent, you would with difficulty find two or three at home: they go about questing
at the parochial altars] .... What they collect they later eat in laziness without
choir, without discipline. (Letter 89, p. !216)

Plunkett also seeks to limit the number of religious in the episcopacy
because of the rivalry between the secular clergy and religious. Even
though he speaks highly of individual members of religious orders, and
praises some of them who have been bishops, he deems it essential to the
peace of his clergy to keep the religious from gaining jurisdiction over a
diocese.
The picture painted by Plunkett is not altogether black, for he states in
one place that the Dominicans and Franciscans " are doing great good in
the province . . . and I abundantly find that the rivalry and emulation
between the two to acquire credit and admiration among the people rouses
them to preach well and to do good and to live good lives (Letter 115, p.

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30Q) ." But the general tenor is that of determined bickering in the face of
imminent persecution.
Monsignor Hanly has provided a valuable service in editing these letters.
He presents them in chronological order and in the original languages (Italian, Latin, and English) with a translation when necessary. The heading
of each letter includes mention of the addressee, the date, the place from
which it is written, and the archive or archives in which it is found.
Hanly does not annotate these letters, but chooses instead to prefix each
letter with a commentary which supplies information about the persons
mentioned in the letter, the occasion for the letter, and the historical setting.
These commentaries are sometimes longer and more significant than the
letters they comment on. In Letter 19, for example, Plunkett's letter informs Propaganda in two lines that Msgr. Talbot has left Brussels for
England. Hanly's commentary on this letter, explaining the importance of
both Peter and Richard Talbot, runs to one and one-half pages of close
print.
The choice of this method of commentary is a wise one, and enables the
editor to write more comprehensive and inclusive introductions to the letters
and to achieve a flowing narrative instead of the usual brief identifications.
Hanly is not merely annotating letters; he is writing history. He points out
the relation of one person to another, of one incident to another, and his
biographical notes are extensive. He has the advantage of being familiar
with the letters as a whole and draws on this familiarity to acquaint the
reader with general trends and interesting details found in the letters.
The translations are, by and large, superb and have been done with great
attention to idiomatic English. There are occasional lapses, as in Letter 38
where triginta quinque annis is translated " for thirty years", but these
are so scattered as to be insignificant. Footnotes are reserved for classical
and biblical allusions and seem superfluous in light of Plunkett's frequent
citing of the same texts. Plunkett is relentlessly Pauline, and the reader
wonders whether the repetition is necessary. A helpful index is included,
along with Plunkett's last speech at Tyburn.
Hanly was the Postulator of Plunkett's Cause from 1968 to the Canonization in 1975; so it is understandable that the introduction to the book is a
bit hagiographical. There is also the implied suggestion that, just as Archbishop Plunkett obeyed " even the merest hints of the Holy See," the reader
would do well to follow suit. But this is not to undervalue the book. It is
well done and is of value as much for the informative commentaries and
introduction as for the letters themselves. It is a work worthy of the saint
himself, if not of the astonishing price.
JOHN VIDMAR,

Ohio Dominican College
Columbus, Ohio

O.P.

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169

Per lo Studio di Fra Remigio dei Girolami (+1319). Contra falsos ecclesie
professores cc. 5-37. By EMILIO PANELLA, O.P., Pistoia, Italy: Memorie Domenicane, new series, no. 10, 1979. Pp. 313 plus nine of illustrations (manuscripts: 8) . Lire 15,000.

Memorie Domenicane has projected two volumes to celebrate the seventh
centenary of the foundation of the Convent of Santa Maria Novella in
Florence. The first to appear is this important and erudite work honoring
one of the convent's most illustrious sons. Fra Remigio is best known as a
Parisian student of St. Thomas Aquinas and as the supposed teacher of
Dante Alighieri at Santa Maria Novella-topics studied but not overemphasized in the present work. However, Fra Remigio as preacher, lector,
prior, provincial, and eminent civic figure was prominent both in the life
of the Dominican Order (and Church) and in the life of his native city of
Florence in one of the periods of her most explosive growth. A great number of his writings have been preserved; in this he is more fortunate than
many of his contemporaries.
Fr. Panella has elected to present a critical edition of a part of the
interesting work on ecclesiology, Contra falsos ecclesie prof'essores, chapters
5-37, which deal with the spiritual and temporal authority of the Church.
The entire treatise comprises 99 chapters, and in Appendix I Fr. Panella
also publishes chapters 1, Q, 3, 4, 46, and 68, and parts of 76, 80, 81, SQ,
97, and 99, with a new and complete index, to illustrate the general inspiration of the book and point out its originality. But besides the section
with the text there are three introductory articles and three appendices,
all of great interest, along with a list of pertinent manuscripts, an excellent
bibliography, and index.
Fr. Panella's historical contribution is noteworthy. He has done important work on the manuscripts of Fra Remigio, identifying much of his
autograph work. He has studied the chronology of the manuscripts and of
the entire literary output of Fra Remigio, identified salient dates in his life
for a more accurate biography, and with meticulous care has prepared the
best documented catalogue of his works, including some that have been
lost. His textual criticism is important, seemingly sound and intuitive. He
proposes solutions to some difficult problems arising from the style of Fra
Remigio, which is sometimes allegorical and occasionally borders on the
enigmatic. The author acknowledges his debt to previous scholars who
have devoted attention to Fra Remigio (the most prominent of whom is
perhaps Martin Grabmann), but he has surely probed deeper than his
predecessors into the spirit of this vivacious Florentine, and his additions
and corrections to their studies are praiseworthy. The present work with
its many original contributions should stimulate Remigian studies in all
sectors, and indeed this is one of the principal purposes of the author and

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BOOK REVIEWS

the editors. Even those whose primary interest is in the remarkable history
of the city of Florence, many of whose medieval institutions continue to
this day, will find profit in the study of the life and works of Fra Remigio,
who helped in the process of moulding the future of the city.
A small but interesting contribution of Fr. Panella is the identification
of the Distinctiones written by Fra Remigio, not previously documented.
He has edited the fragment discovered which is in the calligraphy of Fra
Remigio himself (App. III, in fine). Other interesting and rather lengthy
texts are also included from time to time, as the study progresses.
Among the works of Fra Remigio there are tracts and quodlibeta which
remind us that he is a first-generation Thomist, always a cause of interest.
At the same time there are collections of sermons and various works that
provide other precious insights into the medieval mentality and modus
operandi. He will be found quite original in many points; but, as Fr. Verdi
remarks in his presentation of this volume, further critical editions of his
works are needed before a synthesis of his personality is attempted. In
recommending this excellent and rather complete introductory study, we
would like to express encouragement to the author and the sincere hope
that his work will be emulated by other capable scholars who will faithfully
present all the works of Fra Remigio to modern students.
EDWARD M. McDONALD, O.P.
St. Gertrude Priory
Madeira, Ohio

Plecu;ures and Pains: A Theory of Qualitative Hedonism.
EDWARDS. Cornell University Press, 1979.

By REM B.

In Plew;ures and Pains: A Theory of Qualitative Hedonism, Rem Edwards
presents but does not argue for the hedonistic view that pleasure and only
pleasure is intrinsically good. Moreover, he argues that qualitative as opposed to quantitative hedonism provides the best answer to the question
of what makes life worth living. Quantitative hedonism is understood as the
theory that pleasures qua pleasures and pains qua pains differ only in respect
of their (i) temporal proximity or remoteness, (ii) duration, (iii) intensity,
and (iv) causal connections. The linguistic and normative correlates to this
thesis are: (LCI) The referent of the word 'pleasure ' is a single quality of
feeling; and (NCI) Some pleasures are better than, and ought to be chosen
in preference to, other pleasures, but only when the former pleasures provide
a greater balance of intensity and duration over the latter.
Qualitative hedonism is understood as the theory that pleasures qua
pleasures and pains qua pains differ not only quantitatively but also qualitatively. The correlates to this thesis are: (LC2) The word ' pleasure'

BOOK REVIEWS

171

refers to many different inner qualities of feeling which we find interesting
and desire to sustain, cultivate and repeat; and (NC2) Some pleasures are
intrinsically better than, and ought to be chosen in preference to, other such
feelings, even where the duration and intensity of the former pleasures is
less than or equal to that of the latter.
The book consists of six chapters. Chapter I lays out several preliminary
distinctions between hedonism, antihedonism, pluralism, egoism and universalism. Chapters II to IV provide the heart of Edwards's account. In
chapter II he begins a critique of quantitative hedonism by showing that
this view is strained by the apparent phenomenological fact that some
pleasures are localized whereas others are not. A pleasure is localized when
it is meaningful to ask where it is. If this question is meaningless, then that
pleasure is nonlocalized. In chapter III it is argued that the theory of
quantitative hedonism is false because it entails the (seemingly) false 'Replaceability Thesis', viz. that since all pluralistic goods are merely instrumental goods each pluralistic good is replaceable by an equally efficient or
more efficient cause of pleasure without loss of intrinsic worth. Chapter IV
addresses several pertinent issues, but perhaps its most interesting claim
is that most, if not all, pleasures involve intentionality. The intentionality
of pleasure provides a second reason for rejecting the Replaceability Thesis.
In Chapter V, Edwards addresses the questions: Is qualitative hedonism
really a disguised form of pluralism? By what criterion can we tell which
pleasures are intrinsically better or worse than others? What is the qualitative hedonist's conception of happiness and the good life, and can a theory
of action and obligation be derived from qualitative hedonism? Chapter VI
provides a rather cursory answer to the question of whether there are
rational methods available for resolving disagreements on matters of value
and practice.
As noted above, Edwards does not argue that pleasure and only pleasure
is intrinsically good; rather he argues that qualitative and not quantitative
hedonism is the most defensible version of hedonism. There are two arguments for this conclusion. The first is a heuristically clever appeal to the
undesirability of a ' brave new world ' where traditional pluralistic goods
are replaced by others, such as well-placed electrodes and the drug soma.
When combined with the Replaceability Thesis, this appeal is taken to entail the falsity of quantitative hedonism, although Edwards hedges on this
conclusion by sometimes stating it conditionally (p. 61) and other times
absolutely (p. 72) . The second argument is that the Replaceability Thesis
is false because most pleasures have intentional objects from which they
are " logically " as well as " conceptually " inseparable. For example, " the
pleasures of contemplation are not replaceable by equally prolonged and
intense pleasures of copulation. The two kinds of pleasure are not even
adequately identifiable if their objects are eliminated from thought and
experience" (p. 89).

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BOOK REVIEWS

For qualitative hedonism to be consistent, there must be some difference
of pleasure aside from quantitative differences that would account for the
differences of value between higher and lower pleasures. Edwards seems to
point to two such differences. The first is that some pleasures (and pains)
seem localized and others do not. N onlocalized feelings are not the same as
universally localized feelings, since the former have no definite bodily locus,
whereas the latter seem to be" all over". The second answer rests upon an
important distinction between the cause and the intentional object of a
pleasure. Cause and object may coincide, though they need not. The second
answer, I suspect, also lies behind the plausibility of the " brave new
world " objection to the Replaceability Thesis, since a tendency to confuse
cause and object may lead one to attribute a greater or lesser value to a
pleasure when in reality the change in value is due to a change in the intentional object.
Unfortunately Edwards has little to add to either of these answers, leaving untouched such questions as: Even if pleasures can be exclusively
classed as either localized or nonlocalized, how are difference of value between pleasures of the same class to be accounted for? Is it true that some
pleasures (and pains) have no bodily locus whatever? Are all pleasures
(and pains) intentional? If not, then how are non-intentional pleasures
classified? What exactly is the relation between a pleasure and its intentional object?
Two further shortcomings of Edwards's account are that he does not
reply to the often stated, though I believe mistaken, charge that qualitative
hedonism is inconsistent because, if something is (in the long run) less
pleasurable and yet better, then one has already deserted pleasure as the
sole criterion of desirability. The second shortcoming is that, in reply to
the questions of how can we tell which pleasures are intrinsically better or
worse than others and what rational methods are available for resolving
disagreements on matters of value, Edwards turns to Mill's majority of
competent, rational judges. This is a turn from the task of attaining certainty about matters of value and practice to the attaining of the best possible information about such matters. Perhaps this turn is justified by the
seeming urgency of human things, though it leaves us empty-handed when
we ask, for example, why a majority and not a unanimity of competent,
rational judges. How are (strong) disagreements amongst these judges to
be understood?
Pleasures and Pains is easy to read and provocative. Its arguments are
clearly formulated and devoid of technical logic and terminology. It is
forthright in answering the philosophic questions at hand, involves a minimum of scholarly and textual discussion. Hence it is well suited to undergraduate as well as graduate use.
CRAIG KNOCHE

University of Massachusetts
Amherst, Massachusetts

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