REV. WILLIAMJOSEPH HILL, O.P.
William Joseph Hill, former Editor-in-Chief of The Thomist
(1975-1983), passed away on October 12, 2001, in
Washington, D.C., at the age of 77. Fr. Hill entered the
Dominican Order in 1943 and became one of the
best-known theologians in the United States. He taught for
many years at the Dominican House of Studies in
Washington, D.C., and at The Catholic University of
America. In addition to his many editorial projects, he
published five books, including The Three-Personed God:
The Trinity as a Mystery of Salvation and Knowing the
Unknown God: An Essay in Theological Epistemology.
In this issue, we honor Fr. Hill and acknowledge his great
influence upon generations of students, Dominican and
non-Dominican alike. We begin with the homily delivered
at his funeral by his confrere Brian J. Shanley, O.P. We
follow this with a unpublished homily by Fr. Hill, on St.
Thomas Aquinas as teacher.

The Thomist 66 (2002): 1-7

FUNERAL HOMILY FOR WILLIAM J. HILL, 0.P.
BRIAN J. SHANLEY, 0.P.
Dominican House of Studies Chapel
Washington, D.C.
October 17, 2001
HE EASTER GOSPEL that we proclaim today Gn 21:15-19)
was the one that we used when we celebrated Bill's 50th
anniversary of ordination on June 10, 2000. It struck me
then as providentially provided to explore the mystery of Bill's
priesthood, and it still strikes me now as the best way to articulate
the witness of his life. As the gospel reminds us, at the heart of
Christian discipleship is a response to the invitation from Jesus
Christ to follow him. It is an open-ended invitation to embark
upon a life-long journey where we do not always know where we
are going. The gospel tells us that there might be a marked
discrepancy between the way we follow Christ when we are young
and the way we might be compelled to follow him when we are
older. Bill knew this, for in a remarkable 1985 homily at the
Catholic Theological Society of America convention he began:

"It is an awesome thing to fall into the hands of the living God." ... It may help
to note, in the face of the awesomeness of this task [the ministry of the Word],
that Christian existence is a pilgrimage, a matter of being "on the way," that
Christianity and even Christ himself were once in ancient times referred to
simply as "the Way." We set out, however, not alone but in the company of
Christ who is the Great Voyager. If we are indeed pilgrims of the Absolute,
Christ is the great Voyager, before us and ahead of us, showing the way. Turned
towards him, our life and our work finds its focus there, on He who is God's
own Son. In him does there meet our faith and God's faithfulness. In life we can
be aimlessly carried along, driven by forces beyond us--or we can deliberately
set out on a personal pilgrimage that is acknowledged and embraced. But this

2

BRIAN J. SHANLEY, O.P.

means undertaking an inner spiritual voyage with no set itinerary. And if we are
to tell God's people of it-at least if we are to tell of that pilgrimage which
Christ himself undertook-we must travel it ourselves ... and so this Christian
voyage takes us eventually (there is no escaping it) into uncharted waters, or to
change the image, into the wasteland, into the dark wood. 1

Presciently, the journey did end there for Bill, as it had, he noted,
for Aquinas before him. But before it did, Bill had years like Peter
and like Aquinas, where he went about and did as he willed.
WHEN You WERE YOUNG .•.

Bill's pastoral ministry, the way he fed Christ's sheep when he
was young, was the ministry of the Word as a Dominican
theologian. He was a scholar, a teacher, and a preacher.
A) Scholar

At a Dominican conference on Thomism in the Third Millennium held in Chicago in April of 1999, there was a session
devoted to Bill's intellectual accomplishments at which Cathy
Hilkert, Greg Rocca, and I spoke about Bill's achievements. This
is not the place to rehearse Bill's academic accomplishments;
rather, I would like to highlight the qualities of his mind that I
admire most. Bill believed that Thomism must be capable of
absorbing, within the perspective of its own wisdom, insights into
truth originating elsewhere, but without violating its own inner
coherence and character. Thomism has to be open to truth,
wherever it is found, just as St. Thomas was; it needs to be selfcorrecting in the face of truth claims made outside of Thomism.
If it is going to be viable as a contemporary mode of thought, a
living tradition, then Thomism must also consider and answer
contemporary questions. It would not be enough simply to repeat
Aquinas's insights, but rather they must be re-thought, extended,
and stretched. Bill believed that the thought of St. Thomas had
1 "The Theologian: On Pilgrimage with Christ," Appendix B, Catholic TheologicalSociety
of America Proceedings 40 (1985): 230, 231.

FUNERAL HOMILY FOR WILLIAM J. HILL, 0.P.

3

latent depths that could be mined so as to address contemporary
concerns. If you look at a typical Bill Hill article, you will be
amazed at the number of dialogue partners that he had. Bill read
widely and sympathetically. His aim was not so much to refute
those he dialogued with as it was to learn their questions. He then
would articulate an alternative approach from out of the resources of the Thomistic tradition. Bill did what Aquinas did.
Rester fidele ace qu'on fut, tout reprendre par le debut, as he was
fond of quoting Merleau-Ponty. In this Bill was my intellectual
hero and model. I think his intellectual attitude is exactly that
which ought to mark a Dominican in the spirit of Thomas
Aquinas.
That same night in Chicago, Leonard Boyle gave an address
that was the highlight of the conference. A great man of Bill's
generation, he reminded all of the Dominicans there of the
ultimate purpose of the study of theology in the Dominican
Order: cura animarum through preaching and hearing confessions. We study the Word in order to preach it to others in
such a way as to lead them to conversion. Thomas Aquinas understood this: all his study was at the service of the Order's ministry
of the Word. And so was Bill Hill's.
B) Teacher

One of the principal ways that Aquinas and Bill Hill served the
mission of the Order was through studium teaching. For almost
20 years Bill taught Dominican students here at the House of
Studies [in Washington, D.C.]. Like St. Thomas, Bill had a
tremendous intellectual concentration or abstractio mentis in the
classroom. Countless Dominicans remember his trademark way of
teaching: he would stare at a spot on the wall and then begin to
speak. Questions would bring him out of his thoughts and into an
absolute concentration on the query. His teaching has informed
literally hundreds of Dominican teachers and preachers. Even if
they have forgotten how analogy works, their preaching has been

4

BRIAN J. SHANLEY, O.P.

informed by the vision of God at the heart of sacra doctrina that
they learned from Bill.
Eventually, like Thomas Aquinas, Bill was called to university
teaching at the then contemporary American equivalent of the
University of Paris: The Catholic University of America. There Bill
really blossomed intellectually and again influenced scores of
students in both their preaching and their teaching. And if the
truth be told, I believe the ones whom Bill was most proud of
from those years are here among us: Cathy Hilkert and Kathleen
Cannon. Bill had a predilection for his women grad students; he
came alive among them. Try as we might, we male students could
never quite capture Bill's attention in the same way. This ease
with women is a testimony to the formative influence of Bill's
mother and his loving sisters here present.
C) Preacher

Bill's theological interest in preaching has been underappreciated. The last three essays in Search for the Absent God are
about the theology of preaching and they are splendid. In the
Dominican tradition, theology is for the purpose of preaching a
saving word. Cathy Hilkert articulates a common vision with Bill
when she describes preaching as "Naming Grace" in human
experience. Bill is remembered by the brethren as a theologically
thick preacher, but he was also enamored of poetry. I never recall
hearing him preach, but if the homily at the CTSA is any
indication, he could be inspired.
WHEN YOU AllE OLDER •••

The Three-Personed God, Bill's magnum opus, derives its title
from one of the Holy Sonnets by John Donne. But if we look at
the opening lines of the poem, we can see that it also constitutes
a kind of prophetic articulation of the character of Bill's final
voyage:

FUNERAL HOMILY FOR WILLIAMJ. HILL, O.P.

5

Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend.
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me'nd bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.

Be careful what you pray for. From 1983 onward, Bill was bent,
broken, and made new. He was bound, stretched out, and taken
where he would not go: Parkinson's disease and the loss of
control over his own body. It was painful to watch. Bill fought it
valiantly. I remember especially accompanying him to a Washington Redskins game (one of his great passions) as he was
declining steeply; he was determined to go, even though the subway ride, the walk to RFK Stadium, and the climb to our seats
was painfully difficult. Bill had entered into the wasteland, the
dark wood, the way of the Cross, just as Thomas Aquinas had,
only Bill's time was longer. It was an extremely difficult period
for Bill. But he never complained, indulged in self-pity, or gave in
to bitterness. His was a kind of Christian stoicism.
Yet it was truly a dark night of the soul for him. Earlier, in the
1985 homily, he had described the pilgrimage of life as what
"takes place in the deep places of our spirit, in that country of the
heart whose native language is prayer ... to not want to pray
anymore is to wither and die as a Christian. " 2 He was a man of
prayer. But as the illness bore in on him, prayer became harder
and harder. Occasionally I would ask him whether he was able to
pray and he would reply, "It is very hard." And it was. I think
what Bill experienced is what he himself described as God's
presence in a mode of absence. Search for the Absent God, his
final work of collected essays, expresses Bill's spiritual mood,
especially in the epigraph from Simone Weil: "It is when from the
uttermost depths of our being we need a sound which does mean
something-when we cry out for an answer and it is not
granted-that we touch the silence of God." Bill touched that
silence. He traveled the failure and apparent absence of God with
Christ on Calvary.
2 Ibid., 23 0.

BRIAN J. SHANLEY, O.P.

6

Bill's lifeline through all that time was fidelity to the Eucharist.
It reminds me of Andre Dubus's description of another horse
lover in "A Father's Story":
I cannot achieve contemplation, as some can; and so, having to face and forgive
my own failures, I have learned from them both the necessity and wonder of
ritual. For ritual allows those who cannot will themselves out of the secular to
perform the spiritual, as dancing allows the tongue-tied man a ceremony of love.
And, while my mind dwells on breakfast, or Major or Duchess tethered under
the Church eave, there is, as I take the Host from Fr. Paul and place it on my
tongue and return to the pew, a feeling that I am thankful that I have not lost in
forty-eight years since my first communion. At its center is excitement; and
spreading out from it is the peace of certainty. 3

The Eucharist that he used to celebrate here, later in the Dominic
Chapel with someone from the community when he could no
longer attend Community Mass, and finally at Carroll Manor
Nursing Home, was like this for Bill. When his tongue was tied by
Parkinson's Disease and his spirit incapable of contemplation,
there was always the peace of the Eucharist. Like Aquinas, Bill's
spiritual center was the Eucharist.
All through that time, Bill never wrote again and never
preached a homily, but his acceptance of the Cross of Christ in his
life was more eloquent witness and preaching to those of us who
saw him than anything he ever wrote. His suffering enriched the
community, it made us better; it was a privilege to take care of
him. All the theology he had studied, contemplated, and preached
came to a head in the great sermon that was his patient endurance
of suffering. It is a sermon that I shall never forget. Bill never
stopped preaching. And he never stopped feeding preachers.
At the end of his homily to the CTSA in 1985, Bill concluded:
Alan Jones concludes his little book on Christ Uourneyinto Christ] by recounting
a story from Mallory's Morte d'Arthur: A group of pilgrims put up for the night
in an inn are awakened by peals of laughter coming from one of the rooms
occupied by a retired archbishop who is still asleep. When they awaken him he
tells them of his dream of Jesus handing men and women up a ladder into
heaven, among whom is Lancelot. And he exclaims: "Ah, Jesus mercy! Why did
3

Andre Dubus, Selected Stories (New York: Vintage Books, 1996), 460-61.

FUNERAL HOMILY FOR WILLIAMJ. HILL, O.P.

7

you wake me?/I was never so merry and well at ease in all my life." And he
laughed and laughed and laughed. And that is the way it will be at the end of the
pilgrimage. It all ends with laughter in heaven. 4

I like to think of Bill laughing now in heaven; laughter was not
something that came easily in these last years. And I like to think
of one day laughing with him, and with all of you, in heaven. That
is the way that all our pilgrimages should end. Bill's is over. Ours
is still ongoing. And until it is over, let us take to heart as our
pilgrim task the other epigraph to The Three-Personed God that
encapsulates the passion of Bill's life:
Affairs are now soul size.
The enterprise
Is exploration into God.
-Christopher Fry

A Sleep of Prisoners

May we follow the Great Voyager who is Christ half so well as
Bill, until it all ends with laughter in heaven.

4

"The Theologian: On Pilgrimmage with Christ," 232.

The Thomist 66 (2002): 9-13

ST. THOMAS AQUINAS: TEACHER 1
WILLIAM J. HILL, 0.P.

T

today, St. Thomas Aquinas, whose spirit
we celebrate and strive to make our own, was (and is) many
things to many people. But in a particular sense, he was one
thing only: he was a teacher-something that should resonate for
an audience of university professors and students. He saw himself
single-mindedly as a "doctor veritatis"; he knew precisely what he
was doing, why he was doing it, and never seriously considered
abandoning teaching from the time he began in 1252 at the
University of Paris until 1273 in Naples, three months before his
death. He was not a parish priest, not an itinerant preacher, not
a retreat master, not a foreign missionary, not even an editor. He
refused the bishopric, and later when he heard rumors that he
would be made cardinal (along with Bonaventure) at the Council
of Lyons to which he had been summoned, he prayed that God
might let him die first; for, in his own words "this will mean an
end to my teaching" -and God took him at his word. He knew
something that those of us who teach know intimately-that
teaching is simultaneously two things: (1) it is utter joy, and (2) it
is constant martyrdom. The first means for some of us that we
could never do anything else even if we wished; the second means
that doing it fits the paradoxical purposes of God in his
mysterious work of human restoration. The true teacher knows
what Thomas knew, namely that he brings to the domain of
higher learning, in however frail a way, the life's blood, the vital
spark that sets in motion and sustains that process of transcending
HEMANWEHONOR

1 A homily given on the feast of Thomas Aquinas. While the date and place are not known
with certainty, it is highly probable that it was given at The Catholic University of America.

9

10

WILLIAM). HILL, O.P.

one's own limitations, of human flourishing, without which the
world is surely a poorer and darker place.
THE CHRISTIAN STORY

What then did he teach? Quite simply the Christian story. In
the sense that, in the ambiance of the university, he mediated it
according to the most rigorous critical standards of the human
intelligence, convinced that faith itself was a desire and a need to
understand, and that faith and reason, far from contending one
against the other, made common cause in the interest of human
flourishing.
The well-spring of this lay in that he was intoxicated by the
transcendent power of a universe touched by God. In Christian
iconography, he is represented holding a blazing sun in his hands
which flames through him, at once illuminating the mind and
inflaming the heart. It is really a double-edged vision of the
universe-marked on one side with stability and structure, calling
forth the demanding discipline of metaphysics, representing an
Archimedean point in reality where the center holds and things do
not fall apart, imaging the staying power of a God who is eternal.
On the other side, it is a vision open to history and to the sweet
contingencies of God's love for us; here life is viewed as
adventure where nothing escapes change and everything is on the
verge of becoming new, under the guidance of a God who, in
Christ, has made our temporal order his own; this is a history
given to us by God to be at once our responsibility and our glory.
Aquinas was, in short, a man who stood in the very midst of
God's creation, which he understood as summoned out of the
Void for no other reason than to make the human person-who
stands at its apex and gives it voice-the beneficiary of his love;
a cosmos on which Aquinas readily discerned God's finger-prints.
At the same time, he was a Christian believer who heard that
Word, interpretive of the universe, which is derived neither from
nature nor from profane history, but is exclusively God's selfutterance and self-communication; a domain of saving history in

ST. THOMAS AQUINAS: TEACHER

11

which the very face of God lies revealed for us in the humanity of
Jesus the Christ.
ITS ORIGIN IN CONVERSION

But whence came this personal vision of the Christian story
that enabled Thomas to re-present it with such breadth, such
depth, such power? Ultimately, surely, from nothing less than
God's unexacted grace. But grace means conversion, a surrender
to God's love flooding the heart. Only thereby can one appropriate in a deeply personal way such truths as the folly of a God
who loves his creatures utterly. But such turning to God exacts its
price; it means giving oneself over into the hands of God and that
can mean a wrenching from everything in which one formerly
found security and comfort; in any encounter with the living God
the stakes are high and involve the taking of a great risk.
St. Thomas was large-souled enough to do so, but "he was
forced to enter a wasteland, a dark wood, the painful realm of
what the Bible calls 'metanoia.' He came through to the other side
but was barely able to tell us something of his vision. " 2 On
Wednesday morning of December 6, 1273, Thomas celebrated
Mass and immediately afterward declared that he would never
again write or dictate a word. He underwent an experience of
which he would only say, in explanation: "I have been given to
understand things in such wise as to make everything else I have
written seem worthless by comparison." And so his Summa
remained ever unfinished. In itself, what occurred was only the
final culmination of what had been gradually happening all his
life, of what his teaching had always sprung from.
OURSELVES AS HEIRS OF AQUINAS

What then of us who stand heir to Aquinas? For us, the
Christian story no longer seems able to bear the freight it once
2 Alan Jones, Journey into Christ (New York: Seabury Press, 1977), 32; the play on the
words metanoia and paranoia is also owed to this work.

12

WILLIAM]. HILL, O.P.

did. We have rendered it trivial and banal, perhaps because we
have so devalued the secular and profane, rendering it neutral and
hollow, empty of all signs of the Transcendent. Even our humanized world has become not so much liberating as oppressive and
at cross-purposes with our deepest instincts. The culture lends
itself far less to that turning to God we call metanoia than it does
to something different by far-paranoia. Different in that the
latter brings forth, not mystics, but schizophrenics.
Now surely one must be loyal to one's own age-just as to
one's family, friends, nation, or church-if for no other reason
than that God's Providence has put us here at this particular time;
it is after all our age. And so what is meant here is no blanket
condemnation of the contemporary world, but only a refusal of
its excesses and negativities. Yet there is a sense in which these
give to our times the contours of a vast wasteland, of a dark
wood. If so then perhaps those very negativities bring us face to
face with the need for conversion-not of hearts alone, but of
minds also-quite as was St. Thomas in his radically different
culture. The context of our conversion is more public and social
than was his, which appears confined to the interior of his spirit.
But it is no less a genuine summons to metanoia to reappropriate
the Christ story for our age somewhat as he did for us.
Perhaps, then, the very eclipse of God from culture will enable
us to grasp again certain truths obscured and covered over:
That there are dimensions of human existence wherein we
stand open to Transcendent Mystery;
Which Absolute Mystery is not unintelligibility but inexhaustible depth, so that far from being a restriction on human freedom
it is its very basis and condition;
So that, in Christian life, we are pilgrims entered upon a
journey to the Absolute that is filled with adventure, creativity,
and discovery;
And that theology offers no final answers (as if nothing more
remains to be said) because it is a process and a quest rather than
a finished product.

ST. THOMAS AQillNAS: TEACHER

13

What a wonderful irony that a theology that proceeds entirely
by way of questions (as does Aquinas's Summa) should never have
been finished-a double irony, really, in that it came to a halt in
the question on penance, on conversion. This means we cannot
content ourselves with what Thomas said and thought; it is rather
our task to creatively carry forward his project in the crisis of our
times; to dialogue with the subject matter through what he did
say, and perhaps to hear therein undertones that he did not.
Heidegger has written that "the light has gone out of the West"
and that Western culture can only await a new dawn-yet he
urges that now is the time to get "on the way," to rejoin the path
that leads back to a recovery of the Being of the beings (a phrase
not terribly unlike some that we find in Thomas himself). That
Way leads into the future and so we in our time and place must
trace it out for ourselves. But it has been done before, and one of
the values of both the life and the work of this teacher, St.
Thomas Aquinas, is the assurance he gives us that down that path,
God's truth, which is always gift and grace, lies in wait for us.

The Thomist 66 (2002): 15-59

AQUINAS'S REJECTION OF MIND, CONTRA KENNY
JOHNP. O'CALLAGHAN
University of Portland
Portland, Oregon

T

HOMAS AQUINAS has no philosophy of mind, contrary to the

central thesis of Anthony Kenny's recent Aquinas on Mind. 1
My argument in this paper is that there is a shift in
Aquinas's discussion of cognition from an Augustinian philosophy
of mind toward a more full-blooded Aristotelian psychology.
Something like the account of mind that Kenny attributes to
Aquinas can be found in his very early work. But there is no
philosophy of mind in Aquinas precisely where Kenny says it is to
be found, in the first part of the Summa Theologiae in the
questions Kenny refers to as the "Treatise on Man. " 2 Aquinas has
no philosophy of mind, because he does not think there is any
such thing as the mind described by Kenny. The reasons for
denying the existence of this mind have to do with Aquinas's
greater appropriation of Aristotle's account of the soul in the
"Treatise on Man." This Aristotelian emphasis on the soul is
perhaps the most important contribution that Thomists can make
to contemporary philosophy of mind.
I. KENNY'S MIND

The mind is a single joint power essentially constituted from
the subordinate and distinct powers of intellect and will. In
1

Anthony Kenny, Aquinas on Mind (London: Routledge, 1993).

2 I will address the Summa discussion because that is where Kenny says the philosophy of

mind is to be found. However, it is worth noting that the shift from earlier to later takes place
before the Summa. There is no discussion of 'mind' in Aquinas's disputed question on the
soul, written just before he embarked upon the Summa. The Summa contra Gentiles, written
several years earlier, is ambiguous.

15

JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

16

Aquinas on Mind, this is the account that Kenny provides of the
"Aristotelian" philosophy of mind that he argues is to be found in
the Summa Theologiae. He hopes to distance Aristotelians like
Aquinas from Cartesian accounts of the mind that he believes
place misguided emphasis upon consciousness as the fundamental
characteristic of mind, consciousness being understood as
immediate, privileged, and private accessibility to introspection.
According to Kenny, Aquinas's philosophy of mind is to be found
primarily and in its most "mature and developed" 3 form in
questions 75-89 of the Prima pars. To justify this approach, he
writes:
of course since the greatest medieval philosophers were theologians first and
philosophers second, it is to their theological treatises rather than to their
commentaries on De anima that one turns for their insights into philosophy of
mind. 4

So, on the basis of the Summa Theologiae, considered apart from
and "rather than" the De Anima, Kenny attributes to Aquinas the
view that the mind is a joint power, other than the powers of
intellect and will alone, but one that combines the two. The
intellect is most helpfully thought of as the capacity for operation
with signs, and the will as the capacity for the pursuit of rational
goals.5 Contrasting the Aristotelian view of the mind with what he
has identified as the Cartesian, he writes:
only human beings could think abstract thoughts and take rational decisions:
they are marked off from the other animals by the possession of intellect and
will, and it was these two faculties which essentially constituted the mind. 6
3 Kenny, Aquinas on Mind, preface, unnumbered.
4 Ibid., 20.
5 Ibid., 15. Many, though not all, reviewers have pointed to the oddity of Kenny's
description of the intellect as the capacity to manipulate signs: Brian Davies, Religious
Studies30 (1994): 128-30; James Ross, PhilosophicalQuarterly43 (1993): 534-37; Deborah
Black,Journal of the History of Philosophy33 (1995): 338-41; C.J. F. Williams, International
PhilosophicalQuaterly 34 (1994): 3 75-7 6; Robert Pasnau, The PhilosophicalReview 103, no.
1 (1994): 745-48; John Haldane, Philosophy 69 (1994): 242-44.
6 Kenny, Aquinas on Mind, 16. Also, "humans, in addition to the powers of animals, have
mind (which combines a cognitive power, the intellect, with an appetitive power, the will).
In Aquinas's system the intellect and the will are the two great powers of the mind" (ibid., 59).
Alasdair Macintyre has recently addressed Kenny's emphasis upon mind as that which "marks

AQUINAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

17

And later:
Humans, in addition to the powers of animals, have mind (which combines a
cognitive power, the intellect, with an appetitive power, the will.) 7

Thus, the 'mind' is "essentially constituted" from the two faculties
of intellect and will, and is a faculty other than each taken singly.
Notice also that this Aristotelian mind "marks [us] off from other
animals," and it is understood to be a power "in addition to the
powers of animak"
Kenny does use 'mind' to refer only to intellect, when he
writes, "for the AristoteHans what made [it] true that [mind is
what distinguishes] human beings from other animals was that
mind was restricted to intellect." 8 However, almost immediately
he clarifies this statement:
the clearest insight into the nature of the mind is to be obtained from the
Aristotelian viewpoint. The mind is to be identified with the intellect, that is the
capacity for acquiring linguistic and symbolic abilities. The will, too, is part of
the mind, as the Aristotelian tradition maintained, but that is because intellect
and will are two aspects of a single indivisible capacity. 9
What is the relationship between the intellect and the mind? Do we have here
two words for the same thing? Following Augustine, Aquinas thinks of the mind
as consisting not just of intellect, but of intellect plus will. 10

Kenny never pursues this single reference to Augustine with a
general discussion of Augustine's influence on Aquinas. Rather, in
general he identifies his account of mind Aquinas as distinctly
Aristotelian.
The discrepancy involving intellect and will is easy to explain.
Animals without intellect have a desire
the good that is
appropriate to their form of life. In human beings the will is the
desire for the good appropriate to the specifically human form of
off" human beings from animals; see Dependent Rational Animals: Why Human Beings Need
the Virtues (Chicago: La Salle, 1999), 13, 53-61.
7 Kenny, Aquinas on Mind, 32.
8 Ibid., 17.
9 Ibid., 18.
JO Ibid., 42.

18

JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

lik But the desire for the good in human animals differs from the
desire for the good in nonhuman animals precisely because of the
way in which the desire is informed by general intellectual
comprehension of the good, in addition to sense cognition of the
good, and the estimative reason that grasps the particularities of
the good here and now, It is no surprise that in Kenny's account
the intellect is at times emphasized over the wilL Desire for the
good is will in humans because of its association with intellect,
and it is intellect that human animals distinctively have, Nonhuman animals have cognitive faculties short of intellect, so they
do not have wilL Human beings alone have a mind on Kenny's
account of Aquinas, because human beings alone have intellect,
and a desire that surpasses merely animal desire for the good, a
desire that comes together with intellect to essentially constitute
the 'mind'. Kenny denies that 'mind' and 'intellect' are two words
for the same thing. But he is not simply claiming that 'mind' refers
to the collection or set of two powers, He is claiming that it refers
to a power itself, essentially constituted from the two, It is a
"single indivisible capacity," other than intellect or will taken
singly; the latter are the mind's "two aspects."
One feature of this account that stands out is the absence of the
cognitive powers of sensation. Descartes had included sensation
within the mind, which was tied up with his denial that animals
have minds; animals are mere res extensa. With Descartes, more
recent philosophy also tends to include sensation within the mind,
but rejects the metaphysical dualism of res cogitans and res
extensa. Sensation and intellection can then be classed generally
under the heading 'cognition', so that what becomes broadly
distinctive of mind is the capacity for cognition and desire
associated with cognition, thus opening the door to nonhuman
animals with minds. 11 One might think that on Kenny's account
of Aquinas other animals could have something analogous to
mind, essentially constituted by their highest powers of cognition,
sensation, and the sensual desire for the good, even if they do not
have minds properly speaking because they lack the essential
11 See the initial classification of mental terms in the Blackwell Companion to the
Philosophy of Mind (Oxford: Blackwell, 1994),

AQUINAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

19

constituents of the power of mind: intellect, and the desire for the
good that corresponds to it, will. But according to Kenny, Aquinas
will allow no such analogous use of 'mind' since, "for
Aristotelians before Descartes the mind was essentially the faculty,
or set of faculties, which set off human beings from other
animals. " 12 Other animals are capable of sensation and sensationinformed desire. However, according to Kenny they have no
minds; he agrees with Descartes at least in that judgment. Thus,
in order to preserve the strong distinction between human beings
and other animals, it is necessary to maintain a strong distinction
between the mind and those powers that Kenny calls "animal
powers."
Kenny recognizes that Aquinas argues for only one soul in a
human being, unlike other mediaeval thinkers who argued for the
plurality of vegetative, sensitive, and rational principles. But
Kenny preserves that plurality in a weaker sense, by his emphasis
upon a strong distinction within the soul between the set of
powers of vegetative and sensitive life on the one hand, and mind
as a thoroughly different power of the soul on the other. It is for
this reason that the philosophy of mind is for Kenny himself, and
not just in his account of Aquinas, a distinct philosophical
discipline from whatever discipline(s) study the set of powers
constitutive of sensation, as he makes clear in his book The
Metaphysics of Mind. So, even though the "Treatise on Man"
starts with question 75 of the Prima pars, for Kenny Aquinas's
philosophy of mind only starts at question 79 with the discussion
of intellect followed by the discussion of will, that is, only after
finishing the discussion of the sensitive powers of the soul in
question 78. 13 And though Kenny does include a brief discussion
of Aquinas on sensation in Aquinas on Mind, it is not properly
speaking part of Aquinas's philosophy of mind. The senses are
usefully considered as a precursor to, but not part of the subject
matter of, the philosophy of mind, "because when [Aquinas] goes
on to treat of intellectual knowledge itself he will often explain
what he has to say by making a contrast with his account of sense12 Kenny, Aquinas on Mind,
13 Ibid., 41.

16 (emphasis added).

20

JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

perception." 14 Powers of sensation are not objects of study within
the philosophy of mind, but useful foils for getting at the object
of study, the joint power of intellect and will. Finally, the mind is
a power of the soul but is not identical with the soul, since the
soul possesses sensitive powers that are not part of the mind. 15
In Aquinas on Mind Kenny provides only an exegetical account
of Aquinas on mind without advocating it. But in the aspects I
have summarized, it is almost identical to Kenny's own account of
mind that he provides in The Metaphysics of Mind. For Kenny
himself the mind is supposed to function as what sets us apart
from animals. "Human beings ... were marked off from the other
animals by the possession of intellect and will, and it was these
two faculties which essentially constituted the mind. " 16 Again, he
identifies this position as the Aristotelian view, and he adopts it
for his own in The Metaphysics of Mind, including the exclusion
of the sense powers from the mind. The mind can be defined as
"the capacity for behavior of the complicated and symbolic kinds
which constitute the linguistic, social, moral, economic, scientific,
cultural and other characteristic activities of human beings in
society." 17 So, he writes:
we may wish to have a word to refer to the cluster of sensory capacities in the
way in which 'mind', in my usage refers to the cluster of capacities whose major
members are the intellect and will. The most appropriate word seems to be
'psyche'. If we adopt this usage we can say that whereas only humans have
minds, humans and other animals have psyches. 18

However, Kenny does not think the mind is just a "cluster of
capacities." It is itself a capacity. We have to be careful to
understand Kenny's use of terms. His own use of 'psyche' should
be distinguished from his use of 'soul' in his analysis of Aquinas.
When he argues that for Aquinas the mind is not identical to the
soul, by 'soul' he means the Aristotelian substantial first principle
Ibid., 31.
Ibid., 31and42.
16 Anthony Kenny, The Metaphysics of Mind (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), 7
(emphasis added).
17 Ibid.
18 Ibid., 19 (emphasis added).
14
15

AQUINAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

21

of life as Aquinas uses the Latin 'anima'. But Kenny's use of
'psyche' should not be confused with either Aquinas's use of
'anima' or Kenny's use of 'soul'. In Kenny's use, 'psyche' is no
more identical to anima or 'soul' than is 'mind', since there are
powers not contained within psyche, namely the mind and its
constituent parts. So, for Kenny 'mind' and 'psyche' mark the
major divisions of the powers within a human being.
Kenny is no substance dualist. "[Human beings] are bodies with
certain psychological capacities [minds]." 19 Still, his account
displays a strong residuum of Cartesian methodological dualism,
the dualism that separates the philosophical study of mind from
the scientific study of everything else, including the animal life of
the human body. It was clear in Kenny's account of Aquinas that
'mind' and 'psyche' mark divisions within the human soul or
anima; but it is not so clear in Kenny himself, since he avoids talk
of the soul in contemporary philosophy. 20 Here Kenny departs
from Aquinas. One might ask, why, after all, are we looking at
Aquinas's philosophy of mind, not soul? The reason for this is
rooted in the death of the Aristotelian soul in modern thought. As
Kenny describes the situation in Aquinas on Mind, 21 philosophers
still have something to do, since no matter how much the natural
sciences advance in their study of human life, the formal principle
of which used to be, but is no longer, called the soul, there will
always be the mind for philosophers to think about. Thus, there
will always be the philosophy of mind, if not soul, as an element
in the "irreducible core amenable only to philosophy. " 22 Kenny
then reads Aquinas in such a way that the latter can make an
important contribution to that core of today's philosophy, even if
we must discard what he had to say about the soul.
Thus, Kenny resorts to his own use of 'psyche' to preserve the
clear distinction between the principle of animal life and the
19

Ibid., 18 (emphasis added).

° Kenny himself avoids using the term 'soul' because he believes that in English it is

2

entirely too much caught up with the question of immortal Cartesian minds (cf. The
Metaphysics of Mind, 18-19). However, he does write "the mind-considered as intellect and
will together-is, if all goes well, supreme in the human soul" (ibid., 22).
21 See Kenny, Aquinas on Mind, 3-5.
22 Ibid., 5.

22

JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

principle of distinctively human life; for all practical purposes, in
his own account of mind these principles are distinct, not parts of
the whole that Aquinas had called the soul. 23 If he did think that
they are parts of a larger whole, it is a major lacuna of his
philosophy of mind not to account for their place in the larger
whole, since, as Aquinas often remarked, a part qua part cannot
be understood apart from the whole of which it is a part. Kenny
does have a discussion of sensation in The Metaphysics of Mind,
but mostly for its contrast with intellect as a mental power. In his
own work, in order to emphasize the strong distinction between
sensitive animal life and mental life, he reintroduces the plurality
of principles within each human being that Aquinas was at pains
to deny, the principle that is the unity of the sensitive life of the
animal (psyche) and the principle that is the unity of the the
rational life of the human being (mind). As Kenny puts it,
"humans and other animals have psyches," while "only humans
have minds." The result is a clear distinction between the
philosophy of mind and whatever discipline or disciplines study
psyche as such. What is absent is any intimation of a philosophy
of soul or anima, the principle that is the unity of sensitive and
rational life in a human being. Against the background of Kenny's
own philosophy of mind, Aquinas's relevance is premised upon
divorcing his philosophy of mind from his philosophy of soul.
II. ABSENCE OF MIND IN AQUINAS

I maintain that Aquinas has no such philosophy of mind,
because for Aristotelian reasons he does not think that the term
Kenny has analyzed successfully refers. My argument is divided
into two parts. The first looks at Aquinas's discussion of 'mind' in
the De Veritate. There he holds a view similar to the one Kenny
attributes to him, but it is Augustinian in form rather than
Aristotelian. Once we recognize this early view, we can better
23 I am aware of but one instance in The Metaphysics of Mind in which Kenny refers to the
mind as a in a way a part of the soul, but he does so almost in a metaphorical and romantic
way when he writes, "The mind-considered as intellect and will together-is, if all goes well,
supreme in the human soul; but neither intellect nor will is an autocratic emperor; rather, they
are joint counsuls on the model of the Roman Republic" (The Metaphysics of Mind, 22).

AQUINAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

23

understand his rejection of it in the Summa, under the influence
of his commentary on Aristotle's De Anima. This is the subject of
the second part.
A) Augustine's "De Trinitate" and the Early Thomistic Account of
Mind

The clearest Augustinian influence upon Aquinas in his early
discussion of mind is Augustine's De Trinitate, particularly the last
half of the work where Augustine turns from biblical exegesis to
a systematic examination of the doctrine of the Holy Trinity. 24
Augustine's goal is to find in creation the most adequate image of
the Trinity of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. In most of material
creation one finds traces or signs of God; but it is only by turning
away from sensible objects, and inward toward his own conscious
experience of himself as a spiritual, rational being, that Augustine
thinks he can find an adequate image of the Holy Trinity. This
movement is the transition from the 'outer man' to the 'inner
man'. Success is guaranteed, because if the mind simply recalls
itself to itself from its alienation it "simply cannot not know
itself"; 25 all it need do is remember. The image must be adequate
to the doctrine Augustine holds by faith, namely, that there is but
one being, God, and three distinct Persons, who are yet each said
to be the one being that is God. After trying out a number of
possible images, each of which is found to be inadequate, he finds
the adequate image in the mind remembering itself, knowing
itself, and loving itself. The key triad is constituted by memory,
intellect, and will.
Augustine argues a number of theses about this trinity in the
mind. First, "love and knowledge are not in the mind as in a
subject, but they too are substantially, just as the mind itself is;
and even if they are posited relatively to each other, still each of
For a more detailed discussion of Aquinas's relationship to Augustine's De Trinitate than
I can present here, see D. Juvenal Merriell, To the Image of the Trinity: A Study in the
Development ofAquinas's Teaching (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 1990).
25 Augustine, The Trinity, trans. Edmund Hill, O.P. (Brooklyn: New City Press, 1991),
291.
24

24

JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

them is its own substance. "26 Indeed, "the mind therefore and its
love and knowledge are three somethings, and these three are one
thing, and when they are complete they are equal." 27 Finally,
"memory, understanding, and will are not three lives but one life,
nor three minds but one mind. So it follows of course that they
are not three substances but one substance. " 28 This substance is
the inner man, that part of the soul that is mind, as opposed to the
outer man, that part of the soul that involves sensation and bodily
life. Sensation is not part of the mind, even if it is part of the soul.
And the life of the mind is effectively distinguished and isolated
from what we share in common with animals. Echoing his analysis
of the Holy Trinity, Augustine says that 'mind', like 'God', is said
absolutely of memory, intellect, and will, and it signifies being or
substance; memory is mind, intellect is mind, and will is mind.
'Memory', 'intellect', and 'will', like 'Father', 'Son', and 'Holy
Spirit' are said relatively, that is, with reference to another.
Augustine's thesis is that memory, intellect, and will are not three
minds, but one; and these are not powers or faculties of the mind;
they are the three distinct acts of the one mind.
There are a number of points in Augustine's analysis that need
to be noted before I move on to its influence on Aquinas. There
is the simple truism that one has a mind, as well as what it consists
in. Augustine asks rhetorically, "what after all is so intimately
known and so aware of its own existence as that by which things
enter into our awareness, namely the mind?" 29 There is also the
methodological move of turning within, and away from the body
and a presumed knowledge of sense objects. The methodological
focus upon the mind apart from the body and its acts finds its
justification in the major distinction within the soul between the
outer man and the inner man. The outer man is the soul focussed
upon its relation to body, while the inner man is the soul focussed
upon the spiritual and the inner presence of eternal truth. This is
not simply a nominal distinction, as if two words of different
sense are being applied to the same thing. It finds its justification
26

Ibid., 273.

27 Ibid.
28
29

Ibid., 298.
Ibid., 248.

AQUINAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

25

in a distinction within the soul between the mind and the
principle that Augustine speaks of enigmatically as "quickening"
the body. He writes:
Anything in our consciousness that we have in common with animals is rightly
said to be still part of the outer man. It is not just the body alone that is to be
reckoned as the outer man, but the body with its own kind of life attached,
which quickens the body's structure and all the senses it is equipped with in
order to sense things outside. 30

Is this "life" that "quickens the body's structure" a principle
distinct from the soul, or is it a part within the soul? Augustine is
not clear. That it is not part of the soul is suggested when he
writes that it is the body's "own kind of life attached." That it is
a part of the soul is suggested when he writes "we observe that we
share even with animals those other parts of the soul which are
impressed with the likenesses ofbodies"; 31 whatever "quickens the
body's structure and all the senses" is a part of the soul rather
than a distinct soul of the body; mind is another distinct part. But,
however the ambiguity might be resolved, it is clear that this
quickening principle is distinct from the mind, since it is not the
role of the mind to "quicken the body's structure and all the
senses." The mind itself has a special unity apart from the lower
powers of the soul associated with this "quickening" life.
The parallel is clear between Kenny's 'psyche' and Augustine's
"life which quickens the body's structure and all the senses," as is
the methodological turning away from the life of the body as part
of the philosophy of mind. The sensitive life of the body plays
roughly the same role in Augustine as it does in Kenny and
Kenny's account of Aquinas, namely, as an external foil against
which to study the mind, as something to be turned away from to
reach a clearer, purer understanding of mind. If we look to
Augustine, Kenny seems to be right about how mind "sets [us]
off" from other animals, and with his 'psyche' and 'mind' he
effectively recapitulates Augustine's 'outer man' and 'inner man'.

30
JI

Ibid., 322.
Ibid., 293.

26

JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

B) The Augustinian Mind in Aquinas's "Quaestiones Disputatae de
Veritate"

Aquinas devotes question 10 of the De Veritate to the mind.
This question was delivered in the second year of his first Parisian
regency (1257-58), more than a decade before he produced the
commentary on the De Anima and the "Treatise on Man." The
theme of the question is Augustinian: "Concerning the mind, in
first article it is
which there is an image of the Trinity, in
asked, insofar as there is in the mind an image of the Trinity,
whether the mind is the essence of the soul, or some power of
it." 32 Augustine is cited mostly in the objections, which establishes
him as the authority for the question at hand. All but one of the
citations come from books 9-14 of the De Trinitate, the source of
my discussion of Augustine. The structure of the question follows
Augustine's plan of turning from the outer man to the inner, then
upward to God, as Aquinas asks about the mind's cognition of
material things, then its knowledge of itself, then whether God
can be known in this life, ending with the question whether the
Trinity of Persons can be known in this life through natural
reason.
It would be a mistake to conclude that this Augustinian setting
excludes the very strong presence of Aristotelian themes throughout the discussion, as if Aristotle were for all practical purposes
unknown. The issue at play throughout the question is how to
incorporate Aristotelian themes within Augustine's discussion of
the mind as imago Dei. The tension shows itself in a number of
ways. Where Augustine refrained from calling memory, intellect,
and will "powers" of the soul, Aquinas does not hesitate to do so.
In the body of the response Aquinas affirms that the mind itself is
a power of the soul and not its essence. "The mind is said to be
the highest power in our soul." But the image of God is said to be
in us according to what is highest in us, and so the image of God
is only in us insofar as it is in the mind. Aquinas introduces here
an Aristotelian theme that the soul itself is named from its highest
32 De Veritate, q. 10 (Turin: Marietti,

Aquinas are mine.

1949). Unless otherwise indicated, translations of

AQIBNAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

27

power, which here he asserts is mind. The soul itself can be called
'mind', secondarily and by analogy. Augustine, on the other hand,
had been careful to avoid calling the human soul 'mind' because
of the soul's function of "quickening" the body, a function that is
shared with animal souls. Aquinas has no such qualm.
This willingness to call the entire soul by its highest power
enables Aquinas to handle a distinct challenge from Augustine's
authority. Augustine had written that memory, intellect, and will
are "one mind, one essence, one life." It was clear that these are
not distinct powers of the soul, but three acts of the mind. But
there is an ambiguity in Augustine about the mind and the soul.
The mind seems to be what is essential to, and the substance of,
the soul; but Augustine did not identify the mind with the whole
soul, having made the distinction between the part of the soul that
is the mind and the sensitive part that "quickens" the body. The
problem, brought about by the Aristotelian analysis of powers, is
that against Augustine's authority Aquinas has identified the mind
with a distinct power of the soul, not its "essence or substance."
In the body of the response he makes no reference to memory,
intellect, and will, the Augustinian triad. He only writes of
understanding:
'Mind' or 'mens' is taken from the verb to measure (mensurando) .. .. So, the
word mind is applied to the soul in the same way as understanding is. For
understanding knows about things only by measuring them.

It is on the basis of its being said in the same way as
'understanding' that mind is said to be the highest power of the
soul, such that the soul is appropriately called by the same name.
In the responses to the objections Aquinas does introduce the
trinity of memory, intellect, and will. In response to the fifth
objection, he takes up Augustine's thesis about the unity of the
mind, only to reaffirm that these are three powers. Explaining
what Augustine meant, Aquinas writes,
these three are one essence insofar as they proceed from the one essence of the
mind, ... one mind insofar as they fall under the one mind as parts under a
whole, just as sight and hearing fall under the sensitive part of the soul.

28

JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

Notice that he is using 'mind' in two senses here. When he says
"one essence insofar as they proceed from the one essence of the
mind," 'mind' is used in the analogous sense applied to the soul,
since the powers flow from the essence of the soul. But when he
says that they are "one mind insofar as they fall under the one
mind as parts under a whole," 'mind' is used in its proper sense
applied to the highest power of the soul, as the comparison to the
sense powers shows.
Aquinas also introduces an Aristotelian principle from De
Anima 2.4 (415a14-16), where Aristotle begins to discuss his
classifications of soul against the background of his predecessors,
namely, that souls are distinguished by their powers, powers are
distinguished by their acts, and acts are distinguished by their
objects. This principle is the cornerstone for a clear departure in
Aquinas from the Augustinian background of the De Trinitate
toward a distinctively Aristotelian position. He achieves this
departure by employing a second Aristotelian principle, namely,
that a thing is known only insofar as it is in act. The mind can
only be known from its powers. From the second principle, it
follows that the powers can only be known from their acts. Then
from the first principle it follows that the powers can only be
known by their objects, since their objects distinguish their acts.
But Aquinas argues that the proper object of the human intellect
is the understanding of material nature. Therefore, insofar as the
other powers of the mind come into act consequent upon the act
of intellect, it follows that the mind can only be known by
knowing how it engages the material world. But its engagement
with the material world presupposes acts of sensation. So it
follows that the study of the mind essentially involves a
consideration of the body and its sense powers, even though they
are not parts of the mind. This is a clear rejection of the
Augustinian methodological claim that the mind can only be
known clearly by turning away from its prior and alienating
engagement with the body and the sense powers. Study of the
sense powers is integral to the philosophy of mind for Aquinas in
the De Veritate, not a contrast or foil. For Augustine the mind

AQUINAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

29

separated from the world is transparent to itself, while for
Aquinas it is more or less opaque.
In answer to the question whether God can be known in this
life through His essence, Aquinas employs the distinction familiar
from the PosteriorAnalytics between demonstration quia that God
exists and demonstration propterquid about what God's existence
consists in. Because of the orientation of the mind to material
nature the first is available to natural reason, while the second is
not. Even if Aquinas is following an Augustinian form of
movement from the outer man, to the inner, up to God, his
argument is also deeply Aristotelian insofar as the effects from
which God's existence is demonstrated are not the eternal truths
that Augustine sees within but the material objects that Aquinas
sees around him.
Aristotle's influence here is neither slight or occasional. It
permeates the discussion, and sets the stage for the dialectic with
Augustine. Still, the controlling theme is Augustine's discussion in
the De Trinitate. All of the articles are about the mind, not the
soul. Despite the argument above about the need in the study of
the mind to understand how the body engages the material world
through the sense powers, in practice very little is said of the soul,
other than the discussion of how memory, intellect, and will flow
out of the essence of the soul. In effect, soul takes a back seat to
mind.
A difficulty begins to emerge here. Even if the soul can be
called 'mind' from its highest power, the mind is not identical
with the soul. I noted how Aquinas argues that memory, intellect,
and will are a unity by arguing that they are distinct powers
flowing from the essential unity of the soul. But if that is how they
are a unity, then for the same reason they form the same unity
with the powers of growth, nutrition, reproduction, all the powers
of sensation, and so on. All the powers of the human soul flow
from its essential unity. There appears to be no particular
philosophical reason for singling out memory, intellect, and will
for special consideration as the subject of a disputed question,
much less a philosophy. But from Augustine the mind is supposed
to be recognizable as a special unity of three, memory, intellect,

30

JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

and will, recognizable even to those who cannot recognize it as an
image of the Holy Trinity. What the light of faith adds is the
ability to see in it an imago Dei, "as in a mirror darkly."
The mind, rather than the soul, is singled out for special consideration here because Aquinas is concerned with a theological
question the governing authority of which is Augustine's discussion. Like Augustine before him, and unlike Aristotle, Aquinas
is pursuing a discussion of the image of God in the mind of man,
not the soul. However, if there were no unity of mind other than
the unity of the soul, there would be nothing to be discussed. The
key to understanding Aquinas's disputed question is his ability to
find a special Augustinian unity in the mind that constitutes its
special status, other than the Aristotelian unity its powers share
with all the powers of the human soul as flowing from its essence.
It is in the response to the objections to the first article that
Aquinas finds just such a special unity. In response to the second
objection Aquinas argues that, considering intellect and will as
issuing from the essence of the soul, will is "on a par with
intellect, " 33 unlike the other appetitive powers, which are inferior
to the intellect. This is an important point for him to make, since
in the body of the response he had not discussed the Trinitarian
character of the mind, but simply associated 'mind' verbally with
'understanding'. Now in engaging the authority of Augustine he
develops what he had done in the body of the response. "Mind
includes within it will and intellect, without at the same time
being the essence of the soul, insofar as it names a certain class of
powers of the soul. "34 However, all that is asserted here is that
'mind' denotes a collection of the highest powers of the soul. It
does not assert that there is a unity to those powers that goes
beyond the unity they possess as powers of the soul.
This response is important because it singles out will as "on a
par" with intellect. Augustine too had said that they are equal. A
year later Aquinas will reject this position in question 22 of the De
"in eadem coordinatione cum intellectu" (Aquinas, Truth, trans. Robert W. Mulligan,
S.J. [Indianapolis: Hackett, 1994]).
34 De Verit., q. 10, a. 1, ad 2.
33

AQillNAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

31

Veritate, which is addressed to the will itself. 35 In article 10 of
question 22, he argues that will and intellect are distinct powers
of the soul. Then, in article 11, he argues that taken simply
intellect is superior to will. Throughout question 22 'mind' as a
relevant term disappears. The major terms used are 'soul',
'intellect', and 'will'. 'Mind' occurs only twice, in both instances
within objections, one quoting Augustine's De Trinitate on the
image of God (De Verit., q. 22, a. 11, obj. 1), and the other
paraphrasing Aristotle's claim in the Metaphysics (1027b20-25)
that truth is "in the mind" (De Verit., q. 22, a. 5, obj. 8). In the
latter case, the objector uses 'mind' as a synonym for 'intellect';
but in his response Aquinas does not use 'mind' at all, but rather
'intellect'. In the former case, the objection requires taking 'mind'
as a synonym for intellect, since the objector argues that the will
is an inferior power to the intellect according to Augustine who
had said that man is an image of God according to his "reason,
mind, or intelligence." In responding to this argument, Aquinas
substitutes intellective part of the soul for mind, and includes will
within it. This may just be a terminological shift, since intellective
part dearly includes intellect and will. And that use is not
inconsistent with, but rather reflects, the class of powers that
Aquinas had named as 'mind' back in question 10. Mind or the
intellective part of the soul may be nothing more than that class
of powers, which leaves unanswered the question whether they
possess any special unity beyond the unity they share with all of
the powers of the soul.
However, Aquinas finds just the special unity of intellect and
will required in the response to the seventh objection to article 1
of question 10. The objector argues that "acts that are specifically
different do not come from one power. Yet Augustine says that
all come from the mind.
[memory, understanding, and
" It is important to keep in mind that these disputed questions were not delivered all at
once, but over a number of years. While they may have a certain thematic unity given their
overall subject matter, it would be a mistake to assume that St. Thomas does not change his
mind about any number of subtopics and themes that may recur throughout. See M. D.
Chenu, O.P., Toward Understanding St. Thomas (Chicago: Regnery, 1964); Jean-Pierre
Torrell, O.P., St. Thomas Aquinas: The Person and His Work, trans. Robert Royal
(Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 1996).

32

JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

Therefore, [since these acts are specifically different], the mind is
not a power of the soul, but is the essence of the soul itselt"
Aquinas responds,
Just as the sensitive part of the soul is not understood to be some one power over
and above the particular powers contained within it, but is a certain potential
whole containing all of them as parts, so also the mind is not some one power
over and above memory, intellect, and will, but is a certain potential whole
containing these three, just as we see that the power to build homes contains the
power to cut stones, and erect walls.

Here Aquinas argues that the three form a potential whole,
distinct from that formed by the sensitive powers. The mind is a
distinct part of the soul, not simply a classification of its highest
powers, just as the sensitive part is not simply a classification of its
lower powers. The members of the mental class form a distinct
potential whole within the soul.
The character of that potential whole may still seem somewhat
ambiguous, since it is not a power "over and above" the other
powers. So what is it? It is a power of the soul, as the body of the
article and the response to the next objection (ad 8) inform us.
The objection argued that mind must be the essence of the soul,
since a power of the soul cannot be the subject of other powers.
But the mind, as Augustine had said, is the subject of the image of
the Trinity which is constituted from memory, intellect, and will.
Aquinas responds:
When 'mind' names the power itself, it is not compared to the understanding
and the will as subject, but more as whole to parts. But if 'mind' is taken for the
essence of the soul, according as it naturally flows as a power from the soul, then
it names the subject of the powers.

One of the results of Aquinas's response in the body of the article
was that the soul could be named from its highest power, which
is mind. But 'mind' properly speaking names a potential whole
constituted by its parts, the powers of memory, intellect, and will.
And that potential whole, as this response tells us, is itself a
power, while the subject of any power is the soul.

AQUINAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

33

It appears that there is a conflict with the response to the
seventh objection, since Aquinas there had said that the mind is
not a power over and above the three powers, while the response
to the eighth objection suggests that it is. The mind is not identical
to memory, intellect, and will each taken singly. Since it contains
them, it seems it has to be a power over and above them. The
conflict is resolved in the response to objection 9, the last
objection and response. Objection: "no power includes within
itself many powers. But the mind includes intellect and will.
Therefore it cannot be a power, but is the essence of the soul."
Response: "one particular power does not include under itself
many powers, but nothing prohibits many powers as parts from
being included under one general power, just as under one part of
the body are included many organic parts, the fingers under the
hand, for example." The mind is a potential whole of three
powers that is itself a power, but it is a general power as opposed
to the particular powers that it unites. In the case of the mind, we
are to think that memory, intellect, and will are like the fingers of
the hand. We can analyze them in thought apart from the mind,
but they cannot exist as the powers that they are apart from the
power of the mind. They cannot do what particular powers do, if
they are not united as constituting the general power of the mind,
just as fingers cannot do what fingers do except as integral parts
of a hand. The general power of the mind just is the particular
powers of memory, intellect, and will; it is not a power over and
above them.
Here, in the Aristotelian language of powers, we see Aquinas
beautifully preserving Augustine's strong emphasis upon the image
of the Trinity in the unity of the mind constituted from the three;
a unity of one thing absolutely, yet constituted from three
relatively. The mind as a part of the soul has its own special unity
beyond the unity of the soul, and is distinguished from the
sensitive part of the soul that we share in common with animals.
This is the philosophy of mind that Kenny had argued is to be
found in its most developed form only in the Summa Theologiae
written more than a decade later, the joint power essentially

34

JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

constituted from intellect and will.36 It is now appropriate to turn
to the Summa to see if Kenny is correct in his assessment of it.

C) Aquinas and the Summa Theologiae on Mind
1. The Semantic Claim
There are three parts to my argument about the Summa, the
first semantic, the second systematic, and the third philosophical.
First, meaning becomes dear from use. Aquinas does use the Latin
term 'mens' in the first part of the Summa: 261 times according
to the Index Thomisticus (by comparison, he uses 'intellectus'
1900 times, and 'voluntas' 904). But as Aquinas uses the term in
the first part of the Summa, 'mens' or 'mind' is simply a synonym
for 'intellect'. This use is directly against what Kenny had
pointedly claimed, namely, that 'mind' and 'intellect' are not two
words for the same thing. Often times Aquinas uses 'mens' in an
informal way to cite an authority, as for example when he writes,
"according to the mind of Augustine ... " or "according to the
mind of Damascene ... ", much as we might say, "according to
the mind of the framers .... " But at the beginning of the "Treatise
on Man" it is the soul that is under consideration, and now in a
formal sense Aquinas consistently calls the soul "intellect or
mind." Other times the power of intellect itself is the subject
under consideration. In both sets of usages, the synonymy
between 'mind' and 'intellect' is constant, even quasi-defined.
In his first reference to mind at the beginning of the "Treatise
on Man," Aquinas argues that the inteHectual principle is the
substantial form of the body, which is thus incorporeal and
subsistent:
therefore, the intellectual principle itself, which is called mind or intellect, has
a per se operation, which it does not communicate to the body .... It must be

36 In the question St. Thomas argues that memory is in fact a mode of intellect, and thus
not itself a power distinct from it. But this complication does not materially bear upon my
argument here.

AQUINAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

35

concluded therefore that the human soul, which is called intellect or mind, is
something incorporeal and subsistent.J 7

Notice the use of 'mind' and 'intellect' to refer indifferently to the
intellectual principle or soul. In the sed contra Aquinas had
quoted a passage from Augustine that asserted that the "human
mind" is a substance, from which the sed contra concluded,
"therefore the nature of the human mind is not only incorporeal,
but a substance, that is, something subsistent. " 38 So, Aquinas calls
the soul "mind or intellect," and interprets Augustine to that
effect, though Augustine avoids doing so in the De Trinitate.
Consider one instance of particular importance. In question
82, article 3, Aquinas raises the question whether the power of
intellect is a power higher than the will, the issue he raised in
question 22 of the De Veritate. There he argued that the intellect
is absolutely speaking a higher power, against the Augustinian
position that they are equal. In question 22, Aristotle's
Metaphysics was quoted in one of the objections as saying that
truth is in the "mind," one of the few instances of 'mind' as a term
in the question. But in his response, Aquinas made no use at all of
'mind', and confined himself to using only 'intellect'. Here in the
Summa discussion, by contrast, Aquinas argues the same point
that intellect is a higher power than will. But the difference is that
now he paraphrases the same quotation from Aristotle in his own
response:
The philosopher says that good and evil which are the objects of the will, are in
things; the true and the false which are objects of the intellect, are in the mind.

'Mind' is a synonym for 'intellect' as distinguished from 'will'.
This was how the objector in the earlier disputed question used it,
but not Aquinas; now Aquinas himself has adopted that use.
If we look at Aquinas's commentary on the Metaphysics, we
repeatedly see the expression "in the mind, that is, in the

I, q. 75, a. 2 (Turin: Marietti, 1948; emphasis added).
Ibid., sed contra.

37 STh
·18

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JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

intellect. " 39 The reason for this use of 'mind' seems to be that
while Aristotle's Greek text had 'dianoia' or 'thought', so that the
sense of the text is that the true and the false are in thought, the
Latin translation that Aquinas had has 'mente' for 'dianoia', not
'intellectu'. So Aquinas is explaining that by 'mente' or 'mind' we
should understand 'intellectu' or 'intellect.' The clarification is
his, not something in the Latin Metaphysics. The reason for this
clarification is straightfoward. Aquinas commented on the De
Anima three years earlier, in 1268. But the Latin De Anima very
rarely uses 'mens' (9 times), but rather 'intellectus' (630 times); in
the few instances in which 'mens' is used, it is a straightforward
synonym for 'intellectus'. One important instance in his De Anima
commentary is this same Metaphysics passage, in the discussion of
the intellect's acts of simple and complex understanding (III De
Anima, lect. 11 ). Throughout the discussion he had been using
'intellectus', not 'mens'. 'Mens' only appears in the direct
quotation from Aristotle; indeed it is one of only two instances of
'mens' throughout the commentary on the third book of the De
Anima. So, in reading and in commenting upon the Metaphysics
passage three years later, when he writes "in the mind, that is, in
the intellect," he is simply rendering it consistent with the De
Anima, which he knew well from his commentary. Question 82,
article 3 of the Prima pars, written at roughly the same time,
reflects that result, a result that was not reflected in question 22
of the De Veritate, written a decade earlier.
In the Summa calling the soul "intellect or mind" might appear
confusing, since intellect is but one power of the soul, not the soul
itself. Kenny argues that in Aquinas the mind is not identical with
the soul. If Kenny is right about the Summa, then Aquinas's
discussion appears to be a mass of confusions. However, Aquinas
writes that the soul is called intellect or mind, not that it is
intellect or mind. Why does Aquinas call the soul "mind or
intellect"? He answers that question for us, and at the same time
interprets Augustine, when in question 79 he asks "whether the
intellect is a power of the soul." He answers in the affirmative,
39 "in mente, idest in intellectu" (VI Metaphys., lect. 4 [1027b20-25]; Turin: Marietti,
1950).

AQUINAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

37

that "it is necessary to say ... that the intellect is a power of the
soul, and is not the essence of the soul itself. " 40 Of particular
interest is his response to the first objection, which once again
cites Augustine's authority that "mind and spirit are not spoken of
relatively, but show the essence." 41 Aquinas responds that just as
we speak of a sensitive soul of lower animals from its primary or
chief power of sensation:
similarly, the intellectual soul is at times called by the name 'intellect', as from
its highest power, as it is said in I de Anima, that intellect is a substance. And also
in this way Augustine says that mind is spirit or essence. 42

This is just the principle Aquinas had used in the De Veritate. In
both discussions, calling the soul "intellect or mind" is merely a
way of speaking "at times," a mere calling. It is a use of analogous
terms. In the Summa we see Aquinas explicitly identifying
Augustine's use of 'mind' with his own use of 'intellect', with no
reference at all to memory or wilt In the De Veritate, 'mind' was
not simply a synonym for 'intellect', but referred to a general
power essentially constituted from the particular powers of will
and intellect, akin to the way the hand is essentially constituted
from the fingers. In the Summa 'mind' is simply a synonym for
'intellect' -two words for the same thing.
So, in the Summa the soul is called "intellect or mind"
analogously because of its highest power, intellect or mind in the
primary sense. Time and again, Augustine is interpreted by
Aquinas as maintaining roughly the same position. In the response
to the very next objection Aquinas writes:
the appetitive power is associated in part with the sensitive power and in part
with the intellectual, inasmuch as in its mode of operation it employs a corporeal
organ or does not, since appetite follows apprehension. And according to this,
Augustine puts will in mind, and the philosopher [Aristotle] in the reason. 43

STh I, q. 79, a. 1.
Ibid., obj. 1.
42 Ibid., ad 1.
4 ' Ibid., ad 2.
40

41

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JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

This passage might appear to support Kenny's reading if we did
not already know that Aquinas now treats 'mind' as a synonym for
'intellect'. On the contrary, according to Aquinas, Augustine puts
will "in the mind," not because it is a part of the mind, but
because of its association with the "intellect or mind." Will is the
appetite that follows the apprehension of "intellect or mind." By
this account he explains what we are to take Augustine to mean
when he "puts will in mind." It is just another manner of speaking. Aquinas's practice is constant when Augustine's authority is
now cited. The intellective part of the soul consists in the powers
closely associated with intellect or mind. No suggestion is made
that they form a potential whole that is itself a power, as was
argued in the De Veritate. Now 'intellective part' is nothing more
than a phrase for the classification of the powers associated with
the intellect. Most importantly, 'mind' is uniformly associated
with 'intellect' alone. In the "Treatise on Man," and later in
question 93 in the discussion of the imago Dei itself, if Augustine
is quoted as asserting that mind is composed of intellect, memory,
and will, Aquinas will interpret that as the manner of speaking by
analogy in which 'mind' or 'intellect' applies to the soul, or where
will is associated with intellect or mind. 44 No suggestion is made
that there is a general power constituted from memory, intellect,
and will to which 'mind' refers.
The importance of comparing Aquinas's analyses in the Summa
and the De Veritate is evident, since it makes clear that he now
avoids the general power he had called mind in the De Veritate.
Semantically this result is an embarrassment for Kenny's reading
of the "Treatise on Man." It suggests that if one continues to
speak of a "philosophy of mind" in the Summa one can only mean
one of two things. Either one intends to speak of a "philosophy of
soul" an option rejected by Kenny as anachronistic, or one intends
to speak of a "philosophy of intellect," an option woefully
inadequate for both Aquinas and Kenny. It is inadequate for
Aquinas since it would be a philosophy built upon a power or
44 I intend to argue at greater length elsewhere that this practice of interpreting Augustine
consistent with Aquinas's new use of 'mind' changes his theology of the imago dei, as it occurs
outside of the "Treatise on Man" in question 93.

AQUINAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

39

capacity without taking into account what it is a power of. In the
De Veritate soul had taken a back seat to mind. Here in the
Summa "intellect or mind" must take a back seat to soul. It is
inadequate for Kenny, since a philosophy of intellect would not
capture the broad range of topics covered in the philosophy of
mind that he takes at face value from recent philosophy, the broad
range of "mentalistic concepts" 45 like belief, hope, desire of the
will, and so on, that "set us apart" from mere animals.
2. The Systematic Claim
Is this simply a semantic point? Even if Aquinas's use of the
term 'mind' is not what Kenny's analysis would suggest, isn't it
possible that Aquinas is still committed to a single joint
"indivisible" power that combines intellect and will, and that
Kenny is substantively correct about the Summa? On the contrary,
there is no discussion of Kenny's mind in the Summa, by any
name. In the Summa Aquinas discusses the soul (STh I, q. 75) and
its union with body (STh I, q. 76). The powers are treated first in
general (STh I, q. 77), and then in particular (STh I, qq. 78-82).
Intellect as a power is discussed separately in question 79 from
will in question 82. It is in this last question, specifically article 3,
that intellect and will are compared with one another, concerning
which is the higher power. But in all of these discussions, we look
in vain for a discussion of the power that Kenny attributes to
Aquinas, the single indivisible power essentially constituted from
intellect and will. If Kenny were substantively correct, we would
expect a discussion of this power once the discussions of intellect
and will are on the table. Certainly, one would expect it in those
articles where Aquinas compares intellect and will. We would
expect an account of how they form a "general power," as we saw
in the De Veritate, or in Kenny's words, how they are "two aspects
Even a cursory examination of recent texts in the philosophy of mind will reveal the
difficulty that authors have in accurately describing their subject matter, apart from the broad
and amibiguous phrase "mentalistic concepts." A good survey of the field can be found in the
editor's introduction to A Companion to the Philosophy of Mind, ed. Samuel Guttenplan
(Oxford: Blackwell, 1995).
45

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JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

of a single indivisible capacity." There is no such discussion in the
"Treatise on Man."
3. The Philosophical Claim
Granted that Aquinas does not use the term 'mens' to refer to
what Kenny describes, and granted that the Summa contains no
discussion, philosophical or otherwise, of what Kenny describes,
isn't it still possible to mine the Summa for philosophical insights
that can be suitably extended and applied to what Kenny
describes? What would Aquinas have to say about what
philosophers like Kenny now call the mind, given what Aquinas
does write in the Summa? My claim is that Aquinas would deny
that there is any such thing as what Kenny describes.
There are two good Aristotelian reasons why there should be
no such philosophy of mind as described by Kenny. The first has
to do with the object and act of the mind. The acts of intellect and
will do not occur in isolation from one another; their interaction
is very intimate for Aquinas (STh I, q. 82, a. 4 ). The will like an
efficient cause moves the intellect to its act, while the intellect
provides the intelligible form of the will's movement. But they do
not come together in a general power.
In question 77, article 3 Aquinas argues that powers of the soul
are distinguished from one another by their acts, which acts are in
turn distinguished by their objects. This principle from De Anima
2.4 was present in the De Veritate discussion; Kenny makes
extensive use of it throughout Aquinas on Mind (esp. in chaps. 10
and 12). 'Object' here does not have the current metaphysical
sense of "thing that exists" or "value of a bound variable," but is
rather whatever affects a passive power, or whatever the goal is of
an active power. Aquinas uses color as the object of vision for an
example of an object of a passive power, and physical maturity as
the object of an active power like growth. We might say the object
of chess is to mate one's opponent, without thereby positing some
thing in the world that is that object. Kenny summarizes Aquinas's
discussion this way:

AQUINAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

41

Powers are specified by their exercises (S 1, 77, 3). That is to say, you can only
understand what the power to 0 is if you know what Ding is. One power differs
from another if its exercises and its objects differ; for instance the ability to swim
is different from the ability to fly, because swimming is different from flying; and
the ability to bake bread is different from the ability to bake biscuits, because
bread is different from biscuits. 46

Thus, the principle requires that one determine the powers of the
substance by an analysis of its acts. Unless one can say what the
power does, what it achieves, there is no reason for the
Aristotelian to posit the existence of a power. There is a danger,
as Kenny puts it, of "multiplying powers without multiplying their
exercises. " 47
However, even though Kenny applies the principle to the
intellect alone, and to the will alone, in his analysis of Aquinas on
mind he never asks "what does the mind do?" Intellect has its
object, namely, universal truth. Will has its object, namely,
universal good (STh I, q. 82, a. 4, ad 1). But according to the
principle, if the mind is an "indivisible power" other than the
intellect alone, and other than the will alone, but "essentially
constituted" from them, it must have a determinate act that
distinguishes it from these powers. If we proceed according to the
principle, we must distinguish its specific act by its specific object.
So what is the specific object of mind? If it is a passive power,
what specifically affects it? If it is an active power, what does the
mind specifically achieve? Do the objects of intellect and will
combine to form a joint object of mind, the true-good, or the
good-truth, as opposed to the false-good, or the bad-truth? No;
according to Aquinas, the good and the true are found wherever
being is found. It is the act of intellect to respond to the truth of
being, while it is the act of will to move toward the good of being.
The unity of truth and goodness that is found in all being is not
reflected in a joint indivisible power that essentially unites will
and intellect. That unity is to be found in the human soul, of
which intellect and will are powers, the soul that is the first

46
47

Kenny, Aquinas on Mind, 155.
Ibid., 156-57.

JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

42

principle of life of a human being whose telos is to live the good
life of a rational animal informed by the truth of things.
If we look back at the De Veritate, it is clear that Aquinas takes
the existence of the mind for granted from Augustine's discussion
in order to specify what it is, not that it is. Recall that Aquinas
uses house building as an example of a "general power" constituted from the particular powers of stone cutting and raising
walls. In that example we can specify the object of the general
power, houses. And houses are other than, but constituted from,
the objects of the particular powers, cut stones and walls. But
Aquinas, like Kenny, only uses the principle in the De Veritate to
distinguish will from intellect, and both from the sense powers. It
is striking that he never actually applies it to the mind. In other
words, in the De Veritate Aquinas never tells us what the mind
does. Even if it is an imago Dei, that is not its act; consequently it
provides no philosophical warrant for thinking that there is a
mind, and a corresponding philosophy of mind. Later in the
Summa, Augustine's 'mind' is absent precisely because it has
nothing to do.
In The Metaphysicsof Mind, Kenny himself said that the mind
can be defined as "the capacity for behavior of the complicated
and symbolic kinds which constitute the linguistic, social, moral,
economic, scientific, cultural and other characteristic activities of
human beings in society. "48 He offers no good argument that
there is any such capacity. At best he has given a nominal
definition of a term that might be used to argue that there is such
a capacity. Kenny takes 'mind' to be a successful referring term,
and attributes that commitment to Aquinas. Descartes thought
simple reflection upon oneself made it impossible to doubt that
one is a thinking thing. Kenny, avoiding Descartes's private
introspection, still uses the same basic argument from reflection.
He thinks that simple reflection upon one's activity of reading
makes it clear that one has a mind. He writes, "you have a mind,
as is proved by the fact that you read and understand what I have
written. "49 But the existence of the mind that Kenny has defined
48
49

Kenny, The Metaphysics of Mind, 7.
Ibid., 17.

AQUINAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

43

doesn't follow from that. What follows, by his own analysis of the
terms, is that I have an intellect, since it is the intellect that is the
power to comprehend and manipulate symbols. It might follow
that I have a will, since presumably I want and have chosen to
engage in the act of reading. But it does not follow that in
addition I have an "indivisible power" that is essentially
constituted from intellect and will. As if sensing this failure,
Kenny quickly adds "that human beings in general have minds and
bodies ... is simply a truism," 50 which is to say, in no need of
proof (cf. Augustine's rhetorical question, "what after all is so
intimately known and so aware of its own existence?"). There is
no reason for thinking that the term nominally defined by Kenny
connotes anything more than a complex of objects and acts united
by the principle of human life, the soul, not the mind, of a
rational, social, political animal.
The second reason for denying that there is a mind has to do
with the definition of man: man is a rational animal. Kenny
writes, "in the scholastic jargon, animal is the genus, man is the
species, and 'rational' indicates the specific difference which
marks out the species within the genus. " 51 Aquinas writes in the
Summa (STh I, q. 76, a. 4, ad 4) that we can consider what is
common to man and other animals separately from that by which
they differ. Sensation is common, from which the genus animal is
taken. The difference is taken from the "something more" that a
man can do that other animals cannot, namely, reason in virtue of
his intellect. Though Kenny avoids Aquinas's commentary, this is
the movement of Aristotle's De Anima as it considers the
hierarchy of souls from the vegetative, through the sensitive, to
the rational, with each grade of soul including within itself the
powers of the one below it; it is here that the principle from the
De Anima that the soul is named from its highest power finds its
greatest application. Kenny goes on to note that "a specific
difference is, according to Aristotelian theory, a form. Therefore

50

Ibid., 18.

51 Kenny, Aquinas on Mind,

145.

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JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

the intellectual principle which is denoted by the word 'rational'
must be the human being's form." 52
Kenny then identifies the highest power with the mind, the
joint power of intellect and will as he has analyzed it. If he is
right, we would expect that the specific difference would be taken
from mind. And in question 10 of the De Veritate Aquinas does
just that, when he replies to objection 6 of the first article. The
objection is that the mind is what distinguishes us from brute
animals, and since that distinction is a substantial distinction, it
cannot be grounded in a simple power of the soul, but must be the
essence of the soul itself. Aquinas responds by appealing to the
principle of naming the essence of the soul from its highest power.
He finishes by writing:
Hence sensible, according as it is the difference constitutive of an animal, is not
taken from sense as it names a power, but as it names the essence of the soul
itself, from which such a power flows. And it is similar for rational, or of that
which has a mind. 53

We know that in the De Veritate he means by 'mind' that which
has a special general power constituted from intellect and will.
But he returns to this same objection in the Summa when
considering whether the essence of the soul is its power (STh I, q.
77, a. 1). The repetition occurs in the seventh objection. His
response to the objection is almost identical to what it had been
in the De Veritate, except that now he makes no mention of mind.
Why not? Because there is no such thing as the mind essentially
constituted from intellect and will.
Aquinas's negative position in the Summa on the plurality of
souls debate is crucial for understanding this absence of mind. I
claimed above that Kenny reintroduces this issue in his own
distinction between mind and psyche. "Humans and animals have
psyches," while human beings have minds in addition. Aquinas
addresses the plurality argument in question 76. In the third
article he asks, "whether beyond the intellectual soul there are in
a man other souls essentially different from it?" His response is
52 Ibid.
53 De Verit.,

q. 10, a. 1, ad 6.

AQUINAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

45

no. But objection 4 raises the problem that man is taken to be in
the genus animal from his sensitive body, a "body animated by a
sensitive soul," while rationality, taken from the "intellectual
soul," is taken to be the specific difference or form that makes
man distinctive. The "intellectual soul" must therefore be really
distinct from the "sensitive soul" that animates the body.
Aquinas's response is crucial for understanding his general
position:
From diverse intelligible characteristics or logical intentions, which follow upon
the mode of understanding, it is not necessary to posit a diversity in the natures
of things, since reason is able to apprehend one and the same thing in diverse
ways.54

The "one and the same thing" he has in mind here is human
nature, the formal principle of which is the human soul. The
diverse intelligible characteristics are the nutritive, sensitive, and
rational features exhibited in human life. He argues in the body
of the response that the higher soul possesses "virtually" the
characteristics distinctive of lower classes of soul, sensitive or
nutritive as the case may be. He means nothing mysterious by this
"virtual" presence. He means that characteristics flow from a
single formal principle that are not distinctive of it but distinctive
of others, in addition to the characteristics that are distinctive of
it. The characteristics that are not distinctive give rise to the
"logical intention" of the genus, while the characteristic(s) that are
distinctive give rise to the specific difference. Thus the plurality
that is found in our understanding of X is not necessarily
grounded in a plurality of distinct principles in X. To fail to see
this fundamental point is what Aquinas identifies as the "error of
the Platonists," to confuse, that is, the mode of knowing with the
thing known.
Insofar as Aquinas's "philosophy of mind" only begins with
question 79, Kenny is not interested in question 76. A fortiori he
is not interested in the point of the response to objection 4, that
the duality of the notions does not reflect a duality in the thing
defined. Aquinas's response is based upon the position that a
54

STh I, q. 76, a. 3, ad 4.

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JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

definition is only adequate if the unity of genus and specific
difference within it signifies an identity, the absolute unity of the
thing defined. 55 For man "rational animal" works, where "flying
animal" does not. However, the point is not that in defining a
species two features or properties are tied together in reality by
some metaphysical glue (i.e., the soul). It is that in defining a
species, man for example, neither notion in the definition,
rational or animal, is adequately understood without the other,
since they are diverse notions taken from "one and the same
thing." We can think of animal apart from rational or any other
specific difference; but when we do, our thinking is inadequate to
reality until we specify the form that animality takes in actual
species of things like men, or horses, or bats.56 What Kenny misses
is that questions 79-89 are specifying the rational form that
animality takes in being human; our understanding of animal
applied to human beings is inadequate without being so specified
as rational.
Conversely, Kenny fails to recognize that our understanding of
what rationality consists in, as discussed in 79-89, is determined
by our sensitive animal natures. In question 79, article 8, Aquinas
asks whether reason is a power distinct from intellect. His answer
is negative; rationality is the form that understanding takes in us,
namely, to "move" discursively in our understanding from one
thing known to another. This rational form of understanding is
distinguished from the form that it takes in spiritual beings like
angels and God that do not move from one thing known to
another, but understand in one simple act the totality of what we
understand partially, discursively, and rationally. The reason why
(propter quid) our understanding must move from one thing
known to another is its abstractive character, that it arrives at
what it knows from its engagement with sensation, which
knowledge is always incomplete, and awaits completion in the
propositions we form, and the arguments we build from those
propositions. 57 Consequently, even though the act of intellect is
Cf. STh I, q. 85, a. 5, ad 3.
Cf. STh I, q. 85, a. 3.
57 See STh I, q. 85, a. 3; I, q. 85, a. 4; and particularly I, q. 85, a. 5.
55
56

AQUINAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

47

not the act of a bodily organ (STh I, q. 75, a. 2), the determinate
form it takes in being human, rationality, is determined by its
union in the soul with the sense powers of an animal. So, the very
notion or concept of rationality that Aquinas uses throughout his
"philosophy of mind" cannot be adequately understood apart
from its rootedness in the animal nature that it is identical with in
re. Thus, the actual discussion of the sense powers in the Summa
takes on a much greater material importance than it had in the De
Veritate. The greater importance reflects the importance given to
the discussion of sensation in Aquinas's commentary on book 2 of
the De Anima, and the transition from sensation to reason in the
commentary on the initial chapters of book 3. If we are to
understand reason and rationality, we must understand it as
grounded in sensitive animal life; rationality is the form that
understanding takes in the sensitive life of a specific kind of
animal. 58
Aquinas argues for the unity of the vegetative, sensitive, and
rational principles in the human being, against those who would
assign a principle or principles for the vegetative and sensitive life
of the human being, and another distinct principle for the rational
or mental life of the human being, which second principle would
include within it the intellect and will. One can see the seed of
this thirteenth-century debate in the ambiguity of Augustine's
treatment of the soul and mind. According to Augustine, the soul
quickens the body, and yet has a mental life clearly distinguished
from the life of the body, a mental life so distinct that he identifies
a part of the soul, the mind, with the substance and essence of the
soul, and speaks only fleetingly of the soul's "quickening"
function of the body with "its own life attached." It is ambiguous
whether the quickening principle is a part of the same soul of
which the mind is a part. The later plurality of souls position
clarifies Augustine's ambiguity in favor of separating clearly the
animal life from the mental. In the thirteenth century, employing
the newly rediscovered Aristotelian terms and principles, it is clear
58 On these grounds, of course, consistent with the via negativa, Aquinas would deny that
God is rational while affirming that He understands, since reason is the form that
understanding takes in an animal.

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JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

to almost everyone (the pluralists) that the human being, having
two principles of life, in effect lives two lives. He lives the life of
an animal animated by his animal soul, and he lives a distinct
mental life animated by his mental soul. So the definition "mental
or rational animal," in its manifest complexity, tracks two distinct
forms of life, one higher and another lowero It distinguishes the
human species from the genus animal, in the sense of separating
or "setting off" rational life from animal life.
On the contrary, for Aquinas we live but one life, the life of a
rational animal. That is the point of his response to the fourth
objection. Aquinas argues that the principle of rational life just is
"one and the same thing" as the principle of animal life in the
human being. Thus the life of the mind or intellect is identically
the life of the animal that is human. In the body of the response,
he takes this position explicitly in order to preserve the integrity
and unity of human life.
If it were the case, therefore, that a man lives from one form, namely the
vegetative soul, is an animal from another form, namely the sensitive soul, and
is a man from another, namely the rational soul, it would follow that a man
would not be absolutely one thing.

And,
Therefore it is necessary that it is the same form through which a thing is an
animal, and through which it is a man; otherwise a man would not truly be an
animal, and so animal could not be predicated in the definition of man 59

We see the fateful step taken by beginning Aquinas's "philosophy
of mind" with question 79; it separates methodologically, and in
practice metaphysically, the mind from the soul. Aquinas leaves
no doubt about his desire to emphasize the absolute unity of
human life in aB its manifestations; animal could not be induded
in the definition of man, if the principle of animal life were not
"one and the same thing" as the principle of rational life in man.
The argument goes both ways: it follows that rational could not

59

STh I, q. 76, a. 3.

AQUINAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

49

be included in the definition of any animal; no animal could
"truly be" rational.
For Aquinas, to be an animal and to be rational is the same
form of life in a human being. The definition rational animal
provides an account of the species, not in the sense of separating
or "setting off" distinctively human mental life from animal life,
but rather in marking the form of life that being an animal takes
in being human. It displays the character of animal life in a human
being as rational, as an animal life that eats reasonably, reproduces
reasonably, grows reasonably, employs the senses reasonably, or
ought to given what he is; rational is not a distinct principle
preceding or following these bodily acts and interacting causally
with them, but the human form of them. Among the libraries,
concert halls, and stock markets that Kenny has in mind, one also
finds the economic transactions of grocery stores, the construction
of sewers, the licensing of sex, and the certification of birth.
It might be objected that Aquinas argues that the act of intellect
is not the act of a bodily organ, from which it follows that it is not
an animal act. However, that conclusion only follows if every act
of an animal is the act of a bodily organ. But that is the point at
issue when he argues that it is not the act of a bodily organ, and
yet is the act of the being that is a living body. He is not arguing
that there is a nonanimal act engaged in by human beings, but
simply that there is an animal act that is not the act of a bodily
organ. This thesis is reflected in the argument that it is precisely
because it is an act of an animal that intellect in human beings is
discursive and thus rationaL Reason is the act of neither an angel
nor a god, but of an animaL
In question 10 of the De Veritate, Aquinas showed no concern
at all about
of souls debate. He maintained the
special unity of the mind
all the other powers of the
soul in order to preserve Augustine's analysis in Aristotelian
terms. But in the Summa the plurality of souls debate is one of the
main topics. It is now dear
Aquinas drops the Augustinian
power of mind that he had argued for the De Veritate precisely
because it left the door open for separating the mental life of a
man from
animal life almost exactly in the way that the

50

JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

plurality of souls position does. His opponents could very easily
argue on Aristotelian grounds that if the mental life of intellect
and will has the special unity that Aquinas attributes to it in the
De Veritate, other than the essential unity of the soul shared with
animals in the sensitive life, then such a special life can only be
justified by an essential principle of mental life (a mental soul)
distinct from the essential principle of animal life (an animal soul).
Resistance to that move could only be ad hoc on Aquinas's part.
By eliminating Augustine's mind in the Summa, Aquinas is
effectively eliminating any suggestion that to be human is to be
anything other than an animal whose form of life is rational. The
duality manifest in the definition rational animal does not
correspond to a duality in the thing defined. On the contrary, the
unity of the two elements of the definition corresponds to the
absolute unity of the form of human life. The unity of intellect
and will is not preserved in a special power that separates man
from animals. Rather, like all the other human powers, it is
preserved in the unity of the soul that unites man to animals,
insofar as it specifies the form that animal life takes in being
human.
According to Kenny, the discussion of the sense powers in the
Summa is supposed to form a contrast by which to understand
better the distinctiveness of mind. On the contrary, nothing could
be further from Aquinas's intent throughout the discussion.
Reason, and consequently will, are what they are because of the
way in which they are determined by their relationship to the
sense powers in the human soul. The discussion of the sense
powers is not a foil over against which to understand the mind,
but rather an integral condition for understanding the powers of
human intellect and will. In question 7 6 we see Aquinas arguing
that in a man the principle of intellectual and volitional life is
identically the principle of nutritive and sensitive life, a claim that
does not sit well with Kenny's real dualism between psyche and
mind. Any philosophy of "intellect or mind" in Aquinas must be
a philosophical psychology.
Kenny does look at question 76 in the last chapter of Aquinas
on Mind. But the title of his chapter illustrates my point: "Mind

AQUINAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

51

and Body." The question of mind and body is Descartes's
question, not Aquinas's. Aquinas's question in his own words
"concerns the union of soul and body." Aquinas's first order of
business in article 1 is to establish the identity of the substantial
form of the human being, that is, whether the "principle by which
we primarily understand, whether it is called intellect or
intellectual soul, is the form of the body." This is manifestly not
a question about how a single joint indivisible power essentially
constituted from intellect and will is related to a body. Indeed,
despite the title of his chapter, Kenny's discussion of question 76
says next to nothing about the mind, as he raises problems for
Aquinas's thesis in the response to the fifth objection in article 1
that the soul is a subsistent entity. Those problems are worthy of
separate consideration, but beside the point here. Kenny
recognizes Aquinas's claim, "if there had been a plurality of forms
... one could not say that it was one and the same human being
who thought, loved, felt, heard, ate, drank, slept, and had a
certain weight and size."60 What Kenny fails to do is examine
what the unity of substantial form implies for the "philosophy of
mind" that he finds only in, and subsequent to, question 79. It is
not only that the same being eats as thinks, with the soul
providing the metaphysical glue that makes them both the acts of
one and the same being. Rather, it is that reasonable is the formal
character of human eating, reproduction, and so on.
This is the point that Kenny fails to address in his own
Metaphysics of Mind, namely, how his two principles, mind and
psyche, can constitute the integral life of an animal whose form of
life is rational. Kenny had presented his account as the
Aristotelian account of the mind. If my analysis is correct, it is
clear that what he provided was actually much closer to St.
Thomas's understanding of Augustine than of Aristotle, with mind
a match for Augustine's inner man, and psyche a match for his
outer man. Indeed it is clear that Kenny's own philosophy of mind
suffers from the same Augustinian ambiguity that the medieval
pluralists tried to clarify and solve. If mind has its own unity that
distinguishes human beings in the sense of "separating them off"
6

°Kenny, Aquinas on Mind, 152.

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JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

from other animals, how are we to understand its relationship to
the unity of psyche that Kenny grants we share with animals? If
Kenny wants to deny that this is a substance dualism, the medieval
pluralists are certainly justified in asking him, just what sort of
dualism is it? Methodological dualism very easily becomes
metaphysical.
Kenny is really just providing us with a modified Cartesian
account of mind. After Descartes, the problem with Aristotelianism, even for those like Kenny who eschew Cartesian metaphysics
and introspective philosophical psychology, is that Aristotle wrote
a De Anima, not a De Mente. 61 What Kenny despairs of, in his
defense of the philosophy of mind, is any serious philosophical
study of the unity of human life. The life sciences study in an
empirical way how we are like animals (psyche), while philosophy
studies in a non-empirical way how we are "set off" from animals
(mind). But there is no discipline that studies what it is like to be
a human animal, an animal whose form of life is rational. Does
the mind distinguish us from animals, or does it distinguish us as
animals?
lIL CARTESIAN PHILOSOPHY OF MIND VERSUS ARISTOTELIAN
PSYCHOLOGY

Kenny thinks Aquinas is important to contemporary
philosophy of mind. So do I, but for different reasons. Here I can
only make a suggestion. It is Aquinas's commitment to the unity
of human life in the soul that philosophers working within the
Aristotelian tradition can contribute to the philosophy of mind.
Kenny correctly estimates the confusing set of ideas that come to
mind if one uses 'soul' in contemporary discourse. 62 But that is no
reason to fail to argue for the Aristotelian principle it signifies,
even as one might avoid the term.
Kenny straightforwardly assumes the methodological dualism
that for all practical purposes is the soul of contemporary
61 For an excellent treatmem of this theme addressed directly to our understanding of
Aristotle, see Kathleen Wilkes, "Psuche versus the Mind," in M. Nussbaum and A. 0. Rorty,
eds., Essays in Aristotle's De anima (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992), 109-27.
62 Cf. Kenny, The Metaphysics of Mind, 18-19.

AQIBNAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

53

philosophy of mind. He describes how the progress of science has
carved away at the philosophical disciplines present in Aristotle's
corpus. Still, the philosophy of mind is part of the "irreducible
core amenable only to philosophy." The natural sciences describe
man empirically, while the philosophy of mind analyzes mind
nonempirically and philosophically. One does not have to
advocate the type-type identity theory of J. J. Smart and U. T.
Place to recognize the Cartesian methodological turn taken in the
philosophy of mind when it was rejected. 63 Hilary Putnam has
also recently described present-day philosophy of mind as
methodologically Cartesian. 64 Despite the strong parallels with the
Augustinian account, it is Descartes who provides the proximate
setting for Kenny and recent philosophy, where Augustine had
provided it for Aquinas. Descartes's heavy debt to Augustine for
the substance of his description of mind is well known. 65 Indeed,
it would be ironic if in the major arguments and controversies of
recent philosophy of mind one saw, "as in a mirror darkly," the
far-off traces, likenesses, and shadows of Augustine's search for
the adequate image of God. Kenny leaves us with a study of the
distinctively human, the mental that "sets us off" from other
animals, the "[thinking] thing that doubts, understands, affirms,
denies, is willing and unwilling. "66 The methodological dualism
very quickly becomes a quasi-metaphysical dualism, as reflected
in his distinction between psyche and mind, or leaves us with the
antinomy that animates recent philosophy of mind-how can the
63 U. T. Place, "ls Consciousness a Brain Process?", in Modern Philosophy of Mind, ed.
William Lyons (London: Everyman Library, 1995), 106-16; J. J. Smart, "Sensations and Brain
Processes," in ibid., 117-32.
64 Hilary Putnam, The Threefold Cord: Mind, Body, and World (New York: Columbia
University Press, 2000), 110 and 170.
65 See for example Stephen Menn, Descartes and Augustine (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1998). Mikko Yrjonsuuri, "The Scholastic Background of 'Cogito ergo
sum,'" Acta Philosophica Fennica 64 (1999): 47-70. John A. Mourant, "The 'Cogitos':
Augustinian and Cartesian," Augustinian Studies 10 (1979): 27-42. William Oneill,
"Augustine's Influence Upon Descartes and the Mind-Body Problem" Revue des Etudes
Augustiniennes 12 (1966): 255-60.
66 Rene Descartes, "Meditation II," in Meditations on First Philosophy, trans. John
Cottingham, Robert Stoothof, and Dugald Murdoch (New York: Cambridge University Press,
1984), 83.

54

JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

thing exhaustively described empirically be related to, or
identified with, the thing "irreducibly" analyzed philosophically.
Philosophers working in the tradition of Aquinas need to argue
that this Cartesian methodological dualism fails to capture either
human life empirically or the mind philosophically. We need
correctly to identify the problem-the loss of form, of substantial
form, of the soul-and remedy it. The temptation is to think that
the mind tacks some level of reality onto the biological life we
share with animals. That additional reality somehow engages
biological life, and explains it by providing some mysterious
causal relations. Here I think all the different varieties of
reductive materialism or physicalism in the philosophy of mind
have grasped a truth. They insist upon the unity of human life.
What these approaches lack is the natural principle of form, and,
in this case, soul. The problem is not with the unity of human
action, but the reductionist or eliminativist stance. We need to
recover the understanding of the plurality of the sciences as modes
of abstraction from the unity of being, rather than hermetically
sealed conceptual schemes that need to be identified with another,
reduced, or eliminated.
If we return to Kenny's own description of mind, that it is "the
capacity for behavior of the complicated and symbolic kinds
which constitute the linguistic, social, moral, economic, scientific,
cultural and other characteristic activities of human beings in
society," it should be clear that one cannot adequately reflect
upon that complex reality without taking into consideration that
we are living bodies. If that reflection is going to be well informed, it must be informed by our scientific knowledge of
ourselves as living bodies. But we do not adequately understand
our human growth, nutrition, and reproduction, those characteristics that at one level of description we share with animals and
plants, if we do not understand it as reasonable and chosen.
Consider the least obvious case, the power of growth. It is
surely conditioned and limited by the biological properties that at
one level of description we share with other animals, and even
with plants. Both Aristotle and St. Thomas say that reason and
choice play no part in the operation of the underlying chemical

AQUINAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

55

and biological processes involved in the move toward the "perfect
quantity" appropriate to human life.67 For this reason growth is
referred to as a "natural power" rather than a sensitive or a
rational one. Yet when I was 10 my parents would not let me
drink iced tea, because, they said, "it will stunt your growth."
Perhaps that claim was empirically false, perhaps not. But my
knowledge of its truth or ignorance of its falsehood certainly had
a bearing upon the course that my growth took, insofar as it had
a bearing upon the form that my choices and eating habits took.
What is just as important is that the knowledge or ignorance did
not function as an efficient cause of my growth or lack thereof.
The tea functions in that way, if anything does. In general, we
certainly believe that our growth is determined by diet and
exercise as we pursue chosen goals, and the means necessary for
achieving them. For this reason,
holds that even though
it is a "natural power," the power of growth or natural augmentation takes place in a "higher way" insofar as it is a power of the
rational soul.68 In addition, the nutritive power, which in human
beings is informed by reason and choice, "ministers to" the power
of growth. 69 Consequently, the power of growth does not operate
simply according to the underlying necessities of the biochemical
processes involved, but in human beings is informed by reason.
However, whatever causality our knowledge exhibits here, it is
something other than efficient. It functions as the form of our
subsequent actions, which affects our growth, as it is an aspect of
the substantial forms that animate our bodies.
Readers familiar with the debate in recent philosophy of mind
between reductive and nonreductive physicalists know that the
argument between them may be adequately described in terms of
the question whether the mind is something "over and above" the
living body exhaustively described by the natural sciences. The
problem of mental causation is perhaps the key problem for
delineating how the many answers to that question are mapped
67 See for example St. Thomas's commentary on Aristotle in VI Nichomachean Ethics, lect.
10, no. 1269, as well as the general discussion of the power of growth throughout the second
book of Aristotle's De Anima, and St. Thomas's commentary on it.
68 Q. D. deAnima, a.13, ad 14.
69 Ibid., ad 15.

JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

56

among one another. 70 Authors who recognize that Aquinas is not
a straightforward substance dualist, and who are interested in
placing Aquinas on that map, will place him squarely in the camp
of the nonreductive physicalists, and then struggle with the form
that his nonreductive physicalism takes.
However, readers familiar with Aristotle's Metaphysics or
Aquinas's commentary on it should know the conceptual difficulty
of posing the problem in this way about forms, particularly the
substantial form that is the soul. Consider the mundane sort of
example Aristotle would likely begin with. Is the sphericity of a
bronze sphere some thing or reality "over and above" the bronze
sphere? The answer to that question is no. The sphericity is
certainly other than the bronze, since the same bronze may just as
likely be fashioned into a bronze cube. But in general, the form of
Xis other than the matter of X, while it is not some thing "over
and above" X-mutatis mutandis for substantial forms and living
things. When the bronze is shaped into a sphere, the sculptor is
not adding some thing to it, "over and above" it. 71 He is
modifying its shape. Along those lines it is incoherent to ask how
the sphericity acts upon the bronze, that is, what it causes in the
bronze in the sense of efficient causation pertinent to the problem
of mental causation. The sphericity does nothing to the bronze to
make it a bronze sphere; that is the job of the sculptor. Rather,
the sphericity is the actuality of the bronze being a sphere.
Adverting to the intellectual and volitional aspect of human life
does not provide an additional causal explanation of human
behavior in the sense of efficient causation pertinent to the
problem of mental causation and the reductive/nonreductive
physicalist debate; it provides the adequate description of human
behavior that is to be explained. A distinct burden of article 1 of

° Cf among others, the entries on Physicalism (1&2) inA Companion to the Philosophy
of Mind, ed. Samuel Guttenplan (Oxford: Blackwell, 1995); A. D. Smith, "Non-Reductive
Physicalism," in Objections to Physicalism, ed. Howard Robinson (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1993); andJaegwon Kim, Philosophy of Mind (Boulder: Westview Press, 1996), in particular,
chap. 6 on mental causation, and chap. 9 on reductive and nonreductive physicalism.
71 For a discussion of the complications of using 'thing' across the Aristotelian categories,
see John O'Callaghan, "Concepts, Beings, and Things in Contemporary Philosophy and
Thomas Aquinas," The Review of Metaphysics 53 (September 1999): 69-98.
7

AQUINAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

57

question 76 of the Summa was to show that the intellectual
principle that is identical to the soul is united to the body not as
an agent cause of the body's motion, but as its form; to maintain
the opposite would undermine the unity of human action, and the
human person. The walking of a dog and the walking of a human
being share a description. But when we provide that description,
we have not yet provided an adequate description of what the
human being does, so that we can try to find an adequate causal
explanation of it. When we have provided an adequate description of human walking, which involves intellect and will, we no
longer have a description that applies to dogs. And it is then that
we can go about looking for an adequate explanation of a human
being walking, which will no doubt involve material, efficient, and
teleological environmental causes, as well as prior agency. But in
providing the adequate description of the action, what we are
doing is recognizing the form that human action takes, specifying
its characteristics. In doing so, we recognize and specify the soul
of a rational animal. "My attitude towards him is an attitude
towards a soul. I am not of the opinion that he has a soul," and
"the human body is the best picture of the human soul. " 72 The
sphericity of the bronze is right there for all to see.
Kenny seems to understand this last Aristotelian point. He
writes that there are certain "mentalistic concepts, such as desire,
belief, intention, motive, and reason" that "cannot be understood
apart from their function in explaining and rendering intelligible
the behavior of human agents." These do not provide an
"explanatory theory" in a "causal hypothetical form." Rather they
are involved in the appropriate characterization of human
behavior. 73 But Kenny is torn between what look like
irreconcilable positions: namely, this Aristotelian insight and his
methodological allegiance to the philosophy of mind since
Descartes. Granting the Aristotelian insight about the "mentalistic
concepts," why should we go on to grant that they "are the
subject-matter" of something called the "philosophy of mind," 74
72 Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations, trans. G. E. M. Anscombe (New
York: The MacMillan Company, 1957), II.iv.178.
73 Kenny, The Metaphysics of Mind, 6-7.
74 Ibid., 5.

JOHN P. O'CALLAGHAN

58

part of the "irreducible core" that will "always remain
amenable only to philosophy," 75 after the empirical dissection of
Aristotle's soul? If they cannot be understood apart from their
function in explaining human behavior, how can they be
understood apart from the capacities that Kenny associates with
the psyche (which is not part of the subject matter of the
philosophy of mind), unless specifically human behavior does not
involve psyche? By contrast, for Aquinas reason is what it is
precisely because human behavior involves the powers of
sensation. Mentalistic concepts applied to human behavior cannot
be understood apart from the behavior of human animals.
Why should we think that there is a special human capacity
that is responsible for bringing all of these "mentalistic concepts"
into play in human behavior? Kenny thinks that "Descartes in
effect substituted privacy for rationality as the mark of the
mental." 76 That's not really true. Perhaps Descartes added that to
the mental. But when he reflected upon his clear and distinct idea
of res cogitans, he did not mention privacy. He enumerated as the
essential characteristics of mind that, "it is a thing which doubts,
understands, [conceives], affirms, denies, wills, refuses, which also
imagines and feels."77 For all practical purposes, with the
exceptions of sensation or feeling and imagination, that set is
coextensive with the "mentalistic concepts" that Kenny has said
is the "subject-matter of the philosophy of mind." Descartes
enumerates the acts of the thinking-willing thing. With the minor
modification of excluding sensation, Kenny echoes him when he
writes, "the mind, as the capacity for intellectual abilities, is a
volitional as well as a cognitive capacity, [which] includes the will
as well as the intellect. "78 And when Kenny insists that the nonempirical analysis of this mind is part of the "irreducible core
amenable only to philosophy," isn't he simply claiming for
philosophers the special nonempirical insight into the mind that
Descartes had insisted upon, even if he does not want to call it
introspective?
75 Kenny,

Aquinason Mind, 5.

76 Ibid., 17.
77

Descartes, Meditationson First Philosophy, II.
The Metaphysicsof Mind, 21.

711 Kenny,

AQUINAS'S REJECTION OF MIND

59

The only reason for thinking that there is such a thing as the
mind that Kenny describes is that since Descartes that is what the
philosophy of mind has been about. Kenny's exclusion of
sensation from the mind is a difference of detail from Descartes,
not a difference of substance. "We are up against one of the great
sources of philosophical bewilderment: a substantive makes us
look for a thing that corresponds to it. " 79 Insofar as we have a
term, 'mind', that functions like a referring term in our use, we
assume that there must be some thing, the mind, that it refers to;
it is "simply a truism." Kenny's assumption of the legitimacy of
the philosophy of mind is an example of that mistake pointed out
by Wittgenstein. Aquinas did not make that mistake. What Kenny
misses is that Aquinas does not share the Cartesian obsession with
consciousness and introspection, precisely because he does not
share the Cartesian obsession with the mind. 80

79

Ludwig Wittgenstein, The Blue and Brown Books: The Blue Book (New York: Harper

& Row, 1965), 1.
80 An early draft of this paper was presented as an invited talk to the ?'h Annual Summer
Thomistic Institute under the title "Thomas Aquinas and His Sources: Philosophy of Mind or
Philosophy of Psychology?" (University of Notre Dame, July 2000). That talk is to be printed
in the proceedings of the Institute. I am grateful to the participants in the Thomistic Institute
for the many helpful comments they made after my talk, which served to improve this paper
greatly. In particular I am grateful to the director of the Institute, Ralph Mclnerny.

The Thomist 66 (2002): 61-99

AQUINAS ON HUMAN WELL-BEING AND THE
NECESSITIES OF LIFE
JOHN D. }ONES
Marquette University
Milwaukee, Wisconsin

RE YOU SURE you really need that?" We are all familiar with

this sort of question. In allocating resources in our personal
nd social lives, we often assign a key role to distinguishing
what people need from what they do not need or perhaps merely
desire. David Macarov, for example, claims that a basic function
of social welfare programs is to distinguish needs from desires. 1
Discourse about needs ("needs discourse") also plays a key role in
various psycho-social theories of development and well-being. 2
But needs discourse is not merely practical in nature; it raises a
host of complex theoretical problems related to defining needs,
distinguishing basic needs from other needs, determining the
relation between culture and needs, and so forth. 3
1 David Macarov, Social Welfare: Structure and Practice (Thousand Oaks, Calif.: Sage
Publications, 1995), 17-18.
2 Abraham Maslow's need-based theory of psychological development is perhaps the best
example in this genre.
3 Needless to say, there is an immense contemporary literature on all aspects of needs
discourse. For a small sample of some recent work, one can consult Fernando I. Soriano,
Conducting Needs Assessments: A Multidisciplinary Approach (Thousand Oaks, Calif.: Sage
Publications, 1995); Janie Percy-Smith, ed., Needs Assessments in Public Policy (Philadelphia:
Open University Press, 1996); Philippe van Parijs, Arguing for Basic Income: Ethical
Foundations for a Radical Reform (London: Verso, 1992); D. P. Ghai, et. al., The Basic-Needs
Approach to Development: Some Issues Regarding Concepts and Methodology (Geneva:
International Labour Office, 1977); Paul Streeten, First Things First: Meeting Basic Human
Needs in the Developing Countries (New York: Published for the World Bank [by] Oxford
University Press, 1981); Edmond Preteceille and Jean-Pierre Terrail, Capitalism,
Consumption, and Needs, trans. Sarah Matthews (Oxford: Blackwell, 1985); Conrad Lodziak,
Manipulating Needs: Capitalism and Culture (Boulder, Co: Pluto Press, 199 5); Katrin Lederer

61

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JOHN D. JONES

Yet, however pervasive is the role of needs discourse in
contemporary life, that role pales in face of the foundational role
Aquinas assigns to it in his conception of human life, both
individual and social. One of the fundamental properties of
happiness is self-sufficiency, namely, that it is in itself (per se)
sufficient as a final end of human life. Commenting on Aristotle's
claim that happiness is a self-sufficient good because it needs
nothing exterior (nullo exterior indigentem), 4 Aquinas observes
that the happiness of this life "has self-sufficiency, since, namely,
it contains in itself everything that is necessary for a human. "5 At
the same time, the self-sufficiency of happiness entails that
humans are naturally social, since "one person does not suffice for
things necessary for life if he lives alone. " 6 Further, the major
communities in everyday human life are defined and distinguished
from one another in terms of the sorts of needs they satisfy and
the corresponding degree of self-sufficiency they attain.
The household (domus) provides those things which are
necessary for daily life. The household is the locus of the most
elemental human associations between man and woman, master
and slave, and father and son, each of which Aquinas, following
Aristotle, claims to be necessary for the generation and the
preservation of life.7 The vicus, which Aquinas defines in terms of
the street of a medieval town in which a particular art or craft was
practiced, provides the necessities required for the practice of the
craft and, thus, for the satisfaction of those needs which the single
family cannot provide. 8 The city, to which both the household
and Johan Galtung, eds., Human Needs: A Contribution to the Current Debate (Cambridge,
Mass.: Oelgeschlager, Gunn & Hain, 1980); William Leiss, The Limits to Satisfaction
(Kingston, Ontario, Canada: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1988); and John D. Jones,
Poverty and the Human Condition (New York: Edwin Mellen Press, 1990): 159-78.
4 Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics 1.5.1097b15.
5 "habet per se sufficientiam, quia scilicet in se continet omne illud quod est homini
necessarium" (I Ethic., lect. 9). Latin texts are drawn from the editions contained in the Index
Thomistic us.
6 "quia sibi non sufficit ad necessaria vitae si solitarius maneat" (I De Regim. Prine., c. 2).
7 I Polit., lect. l; Aristotle, Politics 1.2.1252a25-1252b14. See STh I-II, q. 105, a. 4, for
Aquinas's repetition of this view and a somewhat different take on the necessity for having
slaves in the household.
8 Aristotle, Politics 1.2.1252b15-1252b27, identifies this community as the village which
is composed of many households and which serves to meet necessities of life which are not
met on a daily basis. See On Kingship, to the King of Cyprus, trans. Gerald B. Phelan with

THE NECESSITIES OF LIFE

63

and the vicus are ordered, is the perfect community and the most
self-sufficient, precisely because it supplies "all the things
necessary to [human] life" (omnia necessaria vitae). 9
Moreover, Aquinas strikingly observes that every human
communicatio or association is ordered to something necessary
for life. 10 So, too, he argues that our use of wealth (divitiae)
should be determined by or ordered to what is necessary. 11 He
makes the following blunt claim about the proper use of wealth:
Since the use of wealth is ordered to providing the necessities of life and making
such provision ought be ordinate, it is evident that the person who does not use
wealth in order to provide for necessities of the present life uses wealth
inordinately and recedes from virtue. 12

These considerations amply illustrate the foundational role that
Aquinas assigns to necessaria vitae ("things necessary for life") in
understanding individual and social life, associations, and
intro. and notes by I. Th. Eschmann (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies,
1982), 9 n. 22.
9 I Polit., lect. l. Aquinas repeats this view with his own distinctive addition in two other
texts. In I De Regim. Prine., c. 2, after having noted that the city is the "perfect community in
regard to all the necessities of life" ("perfecta communitas, quantum ad omnia necessaria
vitae"), he then goes on to add that there is greater sufficiency in "one province on account
of the necessity of fighting together with mutual help against enemies" ("provincia una
propter necessitatem compugnationis et mutui auxilii contra hostes"). See On Kingship 10 n.
23 for a discussion of the Roman and medieval background for the conception of the
province. In In Matt. c. 12, lect. 2, Aquinas drops the reference to the vicus and refers to the
household, city, and kingdom. Once again, the city is called the perfect community, but "in
regard merely to things necessary" ("quantum ad mere necessaria"). The kingdom (regnum)
is the consummate community (communitas consummationis) and is composed of many cities
to deal with the fear of enemies (timor hostium) without which one city could not of itself
subsist. Since the province/kingdom is able to marshal the means to fight against an enemy
which the city cannot, it is not clear why Aquinas thinks that the city provides all things
necessary to life or what he means by "all things necessary to life," since fighting against an
enemy is regarded as something necessary. Also, see In Psalmos 45, n. 3 where Aquinas
contrasts the city with the church (ecclesia), in which is found "whatever is necessary for the
spiritual life" ("quicquid necessarium est ad vi tam spiritual em").
IO vm Ethic., lect. 9; I Polit., lect. 1.
"STh I-H, q. 2, a. 1; II-II, q. 118, a. 1.
12 "cum autem usus divitiarum sit ordinatus ad subveniendum necessitatibus praesentis
vitae, quae quidem subventio debet esse ordinata; patet quod qui divitiis non utitur ad
subveniendum praesentis vitae necessitatibus, vel inordinate utitur, a virtute recedit" (IV Sent.,
d. 15, q. 2, a. l, sol. 4). So, at STh H-H, q. 77, a. 4, Aquinas explicitly condemns the
mercantile exchange of money for money as greedy and as unlimited, that is, as not ordered
to necessity.

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JOHN D. JONES

economic exchange. Nevertheless, there is no discussion in the
secondary literature that provides an exegetical or conceptual
analysis of Aquinas's conception of the necessities of life or the
more basic concept of necessity from an end. I will undertake such
an analysis in this paper.
There are, to be sure, a host of normative, moral, and critical
philosophical questions that must be asked regarding Aquinas's
conception of the nature and role of "needs" in human life. It is
also important to engage Aquinas with contemporary discussions
of needs. But for these latter tasks to be apt and fruitful, it is
important to set forth Aquinas's understanding of needs and to
identify the many texts in which he discusses this matter. This is
especially important because Aquinas does not provide an extended treatment of needs in any one work. His remarks are
scattered throughout a number of writings. Moreover, some of
the most interesting and important texts about necessities of life
and necessity from an end are found in texts concerning the
sacraments and the spiritual life. These texts rarely seem to be the
subject of scholarly analysis.
In the first section, I will set forth Aquinas's basic understanding of necessity in relation to an end, especially as this
concept applies to human ends. In the second section, I will
consider the general question of the universality and particularity
of what is necessary for an end. In the third section, I will take up
the problem of whether Aquinas provides criteria for comparing
and prioritizing needs. This problem is at the heart of contemporary discussions of «basic needs." Finally, the essentially
social character of human life means that human needs, at least
those that bear on the natural life of humans, are inevitably
contextualized, in part at least, by the diverse, determinate, and
conventional social worlds in which people live. I will briefly
explore this matter in the fourth section.
L NECESSITY FROM AN END

In this paper, I am concerned with one sort of necessity:
necessity in relation to an end (necessitas ad finem) or what

THE NECESSITIES OF LIFE

65

Aquinas at times calls conditional or suppositional necessity
(necessitas ex conditione or necessitas ex suppositione). 13 Aquinas
defines necessity in relation to an end and distinguishes it from
other senses of necessity as follows:
Necessity is said in many ways. The necessary is what cannot not be. This
necessity belongs to something in one way because of an intrinsic principle,
whether material-as when we say that everything composed from contraries is
corruptible-or formal-as when we say that it is necessary for a triangle to have
three angles equal to two right angles. This is a natural and absolute necessity.
In the other sense, it belongs to something that it cannot not be because of
something extrinsic, whether an end or an agent. The necessity is because of the
end when someone cannot attain some end or attain it well without this thing,
as food is said to be necessary to life and a horse to a journey. This is called the
necessity because of [or from] an end which is also called utility. Necessity
because of an agent belongs to something when it is forced by some agent so that
it cannot act in a contrary manner, and this is called the necessity of
compulsion. 14
u Aquinas generally uses the phrases necessarium finis, necessarium ad finem, and
necessitas finis to express necessity in relation to an end. While he sometimes uses the phrase
necessitas ex suppositione as a variation of one of these phrases, the former are not equivalent
to the latter. See III Sent., d. 20, q. 1, a. 1, sol. 3, where Aquinas claims that God creates the
world from a necessitas ex suppositione (namely, that he willed the creation of the world)
which is not necessarium ad finem. See I Sent., d. 6, q. 1, a. 1, where Aquinas distinguishes ex
conditione finis from ex conditione agentis.
14 "Necessitas dicitur multipliciter. Necesse est enim quod non potest non esse. Quod
quidem convenit alicui, uno modo ex principio intrinseco, sive materiali, sicut cum dicimus
quod omne compositum ex contrariis necesse est corrumpi; sive formali, sicut cum dicimus
quod necesse est triangulum habere tres angulos aequales duobus rectis. Et haec est necessitas
naturalis et absoluta. Alio modo convenit alicui quod non possit non esse, ex aliquo
extrinseco, vel fine vel agente. Fine quidem, sicut cum aliquis non potest sine hoc consequi,
aut bene consequi finem aliquem, ut cibus dicitur necessarius ad vitam, et equus ad iter. Et
haec vocatur necessitas finis; quae interdum etiam utilitas dicitur. Ex agente autem hoc alicui
convenit, sicut cum aliquis cogitur ab aliquo agente, ita quod non possit contrarium agere. Et
haec vocatur necessitas coacrionis" (STh I, q. 82, a. 1). Aquinas is responding to the question
of whether the will desires anything of necessity. The necessity of coercion (necessitas
coactionis) appears to be a type of necessity arising from an efficient cause. This sort of
necessity is violent (violentum), that is, against the natural inclination of the thing acted upon.
Efficient causes also produce necessary effects that follow the natural "inclinations" of things.
(See ScG II, c. 30 for the distinction between these two types of efficient causality.) However,
there is one text where Aquinas seems to identify necessity ex agente efficiente with necessity
ex coactione (IV Sent., d. 7, q. 1, a. !, sol. 2). For other texts that specify the various senses
in which things are necessary, see I Sent., d. 6, q. 1, a. 1; II Sent., d. 29, q. 1, a. 1; III Sent.,
d. 16, q. 1, a. 2; HI Sent., d. 20, q. 1, a. 1, sol. 3; IV Sent., d. 7, q. 1, a. 1, sol. 2; IV Sent., d.
38, q. 2, a. 2, sol. 1, ad 1; ScG H, c. 3; STh I, q. 19, a. 3; I, q. 41, a. 2, ad 5; !!I, q. 46, a. 1;

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JOHN D. JONES

To begin, let me take note of Aquinas's vocabulary in
discussing necessity from an end, where the end is human life. 15
(A) Necessarium vitae [humanae] ("what is necessary for
[human] life"). One often finds the plural construction necessaria
vitae [humanae] ("things necessary for [human] life"). 16
(B) Necessarium ad vitam or, in the plural, necessaria ad vitam
("what is necessary to/in relation to life" or "things necessary to/in
relation to life"). 17

De Verit., q. 17, a. 3; H Phys., lect. 15; V Metaphys., lect. 6; and XII Metaphys., lect. 7.
15 The following text illustrates the apparent equivalency of naming necessity in relation
to an end either by using necessitas or necessarium. "Ad secundum dicendum quod necessitas
humanae vitae potest attendi dupliciter, uno modo, secundum quod dicitur necessarium id sine
quo res nullo modo potest esse, sicut cibus est necessarius animali; alio modo, secundum quod
necessarium dicitur id sine quo res non potest convenienter esse" (STh II-II, q. 141, a. 6, ad
2). To say that someone needs something, Aquinas typically uses the verb indigere. See below
for a discussion of the two meanings Aquinas gives indigere in relation to necessity from an
end. Given, as we will see, that a person can say that he or she needs (indiget) whatever is a
necessary to attain some end, we could regard something that is necessary for a person to
pursue some send (necessarium ad aliquem finern) as something needed or a need (indigentia).
Semantically, our notion of human needs is captured by the Latin phrase indigentiae hominis
(see STh II-II, q. 81, a. 7, obj. 2; V Ethic., lect. 9). In this paper, I will use the phrases "a need"
or "needs" as a shorthand version of the more complex phrase "something necessary for an
end."
16 See III Sent., d. 24, q. 1, a. 3, sol. 1; IV Sent., d. 7, q. 1, a. 1, sol. 2; d. 15, q. 2, a. 1, sol.
4; d. 15, q. 3, a. 1, sol. 2, ad 3; ScG II, c. 31; III, cc. 130, 156; IV, c. 58; STh I, q. 19, a. 3;
I, q. 94, a. 3; I-II, q. 50, a. 5, ad 1; I-H, q. 108, a. 4; H-H, q. 2, a. 4; II-II, q. 77, a. 4; II-II, q.
83, a. 15, ad 2; IHI, q. 89, a. 5, ad 2; II-H, q. 141, a. 6, ad 2; II-II, q. 147, a. 4, ad 3; II-II, q.
186, a. 7, ad 3; Ill, q. 1, a. 2; HI, q. 65, a. 4; De Verit., q. 14, a. 10, obj. 12; q. 14, a. 10; De
Pot., q. 5, a. 6, ad 3; De Virt. in Comm., q. 1, a. 10, obj. 2; q. 1, a. 10; q. 1, a. 12, ad 19; De
Ratio. Fidei 7; I De Regim. Prine., c. 1; I Ethic., lect. 2; VIII Ethic., !ect. 1; l Polit., lcct. 1, 7;
V Metaphys., lect. 6; In Psalmos 45; Reportationes ineditae leoninae n. 2 (In Matt. 6.11).
17 Seem Sent., d. 34, q. 1, a. 6; d. 37, q. 1, a. 2, sol. 2; IV Sent., d. 1, q. 1, a. 2, sol. 1; d.
15, q. 3, a. 3, sol. 1; d. 15, q. 4, a. 4, sol. 2; d. 16, q. 4, a. 2, sol. 2; d. 49, q. 5, a. 1, ad 1; d.
49, q. 5, a. 2, sol. 2, obj. 4; ScG HI, cc. 37, 85, 32, 34, 54; STh I, q. 78, a. l; 1, q. 82, a. 1; III, q. 57, a. 5; I-II, q. 57, a. 5, sc; I-II, q. 66, a. 3, obj. 1 and ad 1; 1-Il, q. 102, a. 3, ad 8; II-II,
q. 77, a. 4; II-II, q. 118, a. 1; H-U, q. 129, a. 2; H-U, q. 141, a. 5, obj 1; II-II, q. 142, a. 1; III!, q. 147, a. 4, ad 3; De Verit., q. 12, a. 3, obj. 11; q. 14, a. 10, obj. 12; Quod/. 7, q. 7, a. 1;
Contra impug. Dei, c. 6, obj. 20; I Ethic., lect. 2; IV Ethic., lect. 10, 16; VII Ethic., 4; VIII
Ethic., lect. 12; X Ethic., lect. 13; I Polit., lect. 1, 2, 6, 7, 8, 9; X Metaphys., lect. 6; XII
Metaphys., lect. 7; In Job cc. 7, 12; Cat. aurea in Matt., c. 6, n. 21; c. 8, n. 2; In orationem
dominicam 7; In Psalmos 45; In Matt. c. 6, lect. 3; c. 12, lect. 2; c. 13, lect. 3; c. 13, lect. 4;
In Cor. I. c. 11, lect. 5; In Cor. II, c. 6, lect. 1; c. 11, lect. 6; In Tim. I, c. 2, lect. 1; c. 6, lect.
1.

THE NECESSITIES OF LIFE

67

(C) Necessitas vitae ("necessity of life") and necessitates vitae

("necessities of life"). 18
(D) As far as I can determine, Aquinas uses the expression
necessitas ad vitam ("necessity in relation to life") only once, and
he does not use the plural form necessitates ad vitam ("things
necessary to life"). 19
Oddly, the phrases necessaria vitae and necessitates vitae do
not appear to have the same denotation. The plural form necessitates vitae seems always to refer to material things necessary for
ends pursued in this life. 20 However, the plural form necessaria
vitae includes not only material things, but also moral virtues, 21
prudence, 22 prayer, 23 love, 24 revealed teaching, 25 friends, 26 the
sacraments, 27 recreation, 28 etc.
It also should be noted that, while Aquinas often uses the
phrase vita humana in a generic or unqualified manner, he
18 See IV Sent., d. 15, q. 2, a. 1, sol. 4 and ad 4; d. 15, q. 2, a. 3, sol. 1, obj. 4; d. 44, q. 1,
a. 3, sol. 4; ScG III, cc. 122, 129; STh I-II, q. 30, a. 4; I-II, q. 105, a. 4; II-II, q. 2, a. 4; II-II,
q. 24, a. 8; II-II, q. 32, a. 2, obj. 2; H-H, q. SS, a. 7, ad 2; II-II, q. 77, a. 4 and ad 3; II-II, q.
83, a. 9,ad 1; II-II,q. 83,a.15,ad2; II-II,q.141, a. 6; II-II,q. 141, a. 6, obj. I andad 1; IIII, q. 141, a. 6, ad 2, 3; II-II, q. 179, a. 2, ad 3; II-II, q. 182, a. 1 and ad 3; III, q. 11, a. 2, ad
3; De Malo, q. 4, a. l; q. 11, a. 3, obj. 7 and ad 7; q. 13, a. 1, ad 6; De Virt. in Comm., q. l,
a. 12, ad 19; q. 2, a. 10; Quodl. 2, q. 6, a. 2; 6, q. 7, a. un., obj. 1; Contra doctrinam
retrahentium 15; II Decaelo etmundo, c. 6; I Polit., lect. 6, 7, 9; II Polit., lect. 6; IMetaphys.,
lect. 1, 2, 3; In I-Iieremiam c. 17, lect. 1; Cat. aurea in Matt., c. 7, n. 4; c. 18, n. 4; Cat. aurea
in Marc., c. 6, n. 2; In Rom., c. 8, lect. 4; In Cor. I, c. 3, lect. 2; c. 6, lect. 2; ln Psalmos 30;
Reportationes ineditae Leoninae n. 2 (In Matt. 6.9); In Cor. I, c. 11, lect. S; In Tim. I, c. 6,
lect. 1.
19 II Sent., d. 19, q. l, a. 5, sc 2.
20 See IV Sent., d. 15, q. 2, a. 1, so!. 4; d. 15, q. 2, a. 3, sol. 1, obj. 4 and ad 5; STh II-II,
q. 2, a. 4; H-U, q. 32, a. 2, obj. 2; H-II, q. 32, a. 5; II-II, q. 83, a. 15, ad 2; H-H, q. 188, a. 2;
De Virt. in Comm., q. 2, a. 10; Comp. theol. I, c. 2; I Metaphys., lect. 1, 3; Cat. aurea in
Matt., c. 7, n. 4; In Cor. II, c. 6, lect. 1. Apart from following some conventional usage current
in the thirteenth century, it is not clear to me why Aquinas uses necessitates vitae with a more
restricted denotation than necessaria vitae.
21 STh I-II, q. 66, a. 3, ad 1.
n STh I-II, q. 57, a. 5 (the entire article is devoted to the question of whether prudence is
necessary for human life).
23 IV Sent., d. 15, q. 4, a. 1, sol. 3, ad l; STh !!-II, q. 83, a. 13.
24 IV Sent., d. 15, q. 4, a. 1, sol. 3, ad 1.
25 STh I, q. I, a. 1.
26 STh II-II, q 74, a. 2; VIH Ethic., lect. l; IX Ethic., lect. 13.
27 See texts T2 and T4 below.
28 IV Ethic., lect. 16.

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JOHN D. JONES

frequently refers to different "sorts" of human life. One finds, for
example, references to what is needed for the spiritual Hfe,29 the
bodily life,30 the natural life,31 the domestic life,32 the pleasurable
life, the civic life, the contemplative life,33 the active life, 34 the
religious life,35 the Christian life,36 etc.
Finally, it is particularly important to note a "twofold necessity" in any statement expressing necessity from an end. Ends as
such exist only as the ends of some entity. This means that if X is
necessary for end Y, it is necessary with respect to the end in
relation to the entity pursuing the end. In other words, the
formula Xis necessary for Y is an elliptical way of saying that X
is necessary for A to attain Y at all or very well.37
Thomas defines and/or characterizes "what is necessary on the
condition of an end" in a number of texts. 38 I shall focus my
discussion on four of them.
T1: "What is necessary on the condition of an end is that without which
someone cannot attain some end or attain it very easily. Moreover, this end is
twofold: either in regard to being (esse)-and in this sense food or nutrition are
said to be necessary, since without them a person cannot exist (esse)--or as

29
30

Vita spiritualia: see, e.g., T2 below.
Vita corpora/is: see, e.g., ScG IV, c. 58; STh II-II, q. 83, a. 6; De Verit., q. 27, a. 1, ad

1.
31 Vita naturalis: see, e.g., II Sent., d. 34, q. 1, a. 4, ad 3; IV Sent., d. 6, q. 2, a. 2, sol. 1,
ad 3; STh I-II, q. 112, a. 4, ad 3.
32 Vita domestica: see, e.g., IV Sent., d. 27, q. 1, a. 1, sol. l; In Cor. II, c. 11, lect. 6 (where
sleep, food, and clothing are deemed necessary for domestic life).
3 ·1 Respectively vita voluptuousa, vita civilis, vita contemplativa. See, e.g., I Ethic., lect. 5.
34 Vita activa: see, e.g., III Sent., d. 34, q. 1, a. 6; STh H-II, q. 152, a. 2; De Virt. in Comm.,
q. 1, a. 12, ad 24.
35 Vita religiosa: see, e.g., STh II-II, qq. 188 and 189.
36 Vita christiana: STh HI, q. 62, a. 2.
37 A fine example of the complete expression is found at HI Sent., d 20, q. 1, a. 1, sol. 3:
"necessariurn est homini habere navem, si debet ire ultra mare" ("It is necessary for a person
to have a ship if he must travel across the sea"). We will see the importance of this matter
later.
'"In addition to T1 -T4 below and the texts cited above in note 14, cf. IV Sent., d. 15,
q. 2, a. 4, sol. 1; d. 15, q. 3, a. 1, sol. 2, ad 3; d. 44, q. 1, a. 3, sol. 4; d. 49, q. 5, a. 1, ad 1;
STh I-II, q. 10, a. 2, ad 3; H-II, q. 32, a. 6; U-H, q. 58, a. 3, ad 2; II-II, q. 141, a. 6, ad 1; De
Verit., q. 1, a. 10, obj. 1; Quodl. 4, q. 12, a. 2, ad 3; In Boet. de Trin., q. 3, a. 1, sc 3.

THE NECESSITIES OF LIFE

69

pertaining to well-being (bene esse). In this manner, a ship is said to be necessary
to sail over the sea, since without it a person cannot carry out his action." 39

T2: "The necessity from the supposition of an end is twofold. In one sense, what
is necessary is that without which something cannot be conserved in being, as
nutrition is [necessaryl for an animal. In another sense, something is necessary
as that without which what pertains to well-being cannot be attained, as a horse
is said to be necessary to move about at will and medicine to this: that a person
live healthfully .... Some [sacraments], such as baptism and penance, are
necessary in the first sense, namely, those without which a person cannot live in
the spiritual life. Some however are [necessary] as that without which cannot be
attained some effect which pertains to the well-being of the spiritual life.
Confirmation and all the other sacraments are necessary in this sense. " 40
T3: "In wanting (desiring) the end, we do not of necessity desire those things
which exist in relation to the end unless they are such that without them the end
cannot exist. So, desiring the conservation of life, we desire food. Desiring travel,
we desire a ship. However, we do not in this way desire out of necessity those
things without which the end can exist such as a horse for traveling, since we can
travel without it." 41
T4: "Something is said to be necessary in respect of an end in two senses. In one
sense, as that without which an end cannot exist, as food is necessary for human
life. And this is unqualifiedly necessary for the end. In the other sense, that
without which the end cannot be attained fittingly is called something necessary
as, for example, is a horse for a journey. But this is not unqualifiedly necessary
' 9 "Necessarium ex conditione finis est illud sine quo non potest consequi aliquem fin em*,
vel non ita faciliter. Finis autern est duplex: vel ad esse, et hoc modo cibus vel nutrimentum
dicuntur esse necessaria, quia sine eis non po test esse homo; vel pertinens ad bene esse, et sic
dicitur esse navis necessaria eunti ultra mare; quia sine ea exercere non potest actionem suam"
(! Sent., d. 6, q. l, a. 1). (* - Reading aliquem finem for aliquis finis.) See Aristotle,
Metaphysics 5.6.1051a20-26 for a very similar distinction between the two senses in which
something is necessary for an end. Indeed, Aquinas acknowledges in this response that he is
presenting Aristotle's definition from Metaphysics 5.6.
40 "necessitas ex suppositione finis; et est duplex. Quia uno modo dicitur necessarium sine
quo aliquis non potest conservari in esse, sicut nutrimentum animali. Alio modo sine quo non
potest haberi quod pertinet ad bene esse, sicut equus dicitur necessarius ambulare volenti, et
medicina ad hoc quod homo sane vivat ... quaedam [sacrarnenta sunt necessaria] quidern
quantum ad primum mod um, ilia scilicet sine qui bus non potest homo in spirituali vita vivere,
sicut est baptismus et poenitentia; quaedam autem sine quibus non potest consequi aliquem
effecturn qui est ad bene esse spiritualis vitae; et hoc modo confirmatio et ornnia alia sunt
necessaria" (IV Sent., d. 7, q. 1, a. 1, sol. 2).
41 "ea autem quae sunt ad finem non ex necessitate volumus volentes finem, nisi sint talia,
sine quibus finis esse non potest, sicut volumus cibum, volentes conservationem vitae; et
navem, volentes transfretare. Non sic autem ex necessitate volumus ea sine quibus finis esse
potest, sicut equum ad ambulandum, quia sine hoc possumus ire" (STh I, q. 19, a. 3).

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JOHN D. JONES

for an end. Three of the sacraments are necessary in the first sense. Two are
necessary for the individual person: baptism unqualifiedly and absolutely as well
as penance on the supposition of mortal sin after baptism. However, the
sacrament of orders is a necessity of the church, since where there is no ruler the
people are corrupted (Prov. 11: 14 ). The other sacraments are necessary in the
other sense: for confirmation perfe<-1:s baptism in a certain manner, extreme
unction perfects penance, while matrimony conserves through propagation the
multitude of the church. " 42

Consider Tt. Something can be necessary for an end in two
senses: either as that without which the end cannot exist-I will
call this "necessity A"-or as that without which the end cannot be
will call this
attained easily or fittingly (convenienter)-I
"necessitys." 43 T1 and T2 define necessity from an end with
respect to any particular end (aliquis finis). However, in T1, the
single end with respect to which things are said to be necessary for
humans is specified either as existence (esse) or as well-being
(bene esse).44 The only things necessary Afor human life, then, are
those things without which people cannot live or exist" Anything
else that is necessary for people is necessaryB for human wellbeing. Notice that, according to T1, the ship is given as necessaryB
for a person to take the voyage"45 Hence according to TI, the ship
42 "Necessarium respectu finis ... dicitur aliquid dupliciter. Uno modo, sine quo non
potest esse finis, sicut cibus est necessarius vitae humanae. Et hoc est simpliciter necessarium
ad finem. Alio modo dicitur esse necessarium id sine quo non habetur finis ita convenienter,
sicut equus necessarius est ad iter. Hoc autem non est simpliciter neccssarium ad finem. Primo
igitur modo necessitaris sunt tria sacramenta necessaria. Duo quidem personae singulari,
baprismus quidem simpliciter et absolute; poenitenria autem, supposito peccato mortali post
baprismum. Sacramentum autem ordinis est necessarium ecclesiae, quia, ubi non est
gubernator, populus corruet, ut dicitur proverb. xi. Sed secundo modo sunt necessaria alia
sacramenta. Nam confirmario perficit baptismum quodammodo;
extrema unctio
poenitentiam; matrimonium vero ecclesiae multitudinem per propagationem conservat" (STh
III, q. 65, a. 4).
43 I will generally use necessity NB as a shortened way of referring to necessity A and/or
necessity 8 •
44 Aquinas writes that the end is «twofold" (duplex). I think it makes more sense to say that
there is a single end-human existence or life-----considered in regard to its simple existence
or in regard to its perfection rather than to say that there are two ends.
45 Aquinas offers the example of a ship as a means necessary to achieve an end in four
other places: HI Sent., d. 20, q. 1, a. 1, sol. 3; ScG m, c. 138; !:>Th I, q. 19, a. 3; and V
Metaphys., lect. 6. In the last text, the ship is said to be necessary for the voyage in the sense
of necessity 8 _ Following Aristotle, the focus is on the necessity of the ship for someone to
obtain a particular good, namely, the money (which is the end of making the voyage), rather

THE NECESSITIES OF LIFE

71

is necessary for the person to make an ocean voyage in exactly the
same sense that, in other texts, a horse is said to be necessary for
the person to take a journey. 46
Thomas repeats this basic schema in T2 except that "life" is
analogically extended to refer to "spiritual life"; otherwise baptism could not be regarded as necessary for life in the first sense
(necessityA), since people surely do not cease to exist if they have
not been baptized. 47 T2, then, invokes a distinction between the
life of the body and the life of the soul. 48 Rather than take human
life or existence in a simple or unqualified sense, as in Tt, T2
distinguishes between two "sorts" of human life. Presumably, once
we allow that things necessary for human life can be specified
according to two different ends (viz., the natural life and the
spiritual life), there is presumably no reason why we could not
also posit as ends other sorts or "domains" of human life: the
moral life, the contemplative life, the domestic life, the civic life,
etc.
Note, however, that even with this more extensive specification of ends (various categories of human life), we still cannot
clearly discriminate between the ways in which things are needed
for many proximate ends that we pursue, for example, the
difference between the manner in which a ship might be necessary
for a voyage and a horse might be necessary for a journey. Yet,
Aquinas implies exactly this sort of discrimination in T3: relative
to making an ocean voyage, the ship is necessary M while relative
than on the necessity of the ship for someone simply to make the voyage. The text from the
Summa Theologiae (T3 above) uses the ship/voyage example to illustrate necessity /c The first
two texts employ the ship/voyage example to illustrate necessity of an end without specifying
what sort of necessity is involved.
46 For the use of the horse example, see II Sent., d. 29, q. 1, a. 1; IV Sent., d. 1, q. 1, a. 2,
sol. 1; d. 7, q. 1, a. 1, sol. 2; STh I, q. 82, a. l; III, q. 1, a. 2; III, q. 65, a. 4; Quodl. 4, q. 12,
a. 2, ad 3; XII Metaphys., lect. 7.
47 Spiritual life, or the life of the soul, happens when the will is united by a right intention
to God and moved by an intrinsic principle (namely, charity) to love of God and neighbor.
The damned do not cease to exist even though they are spiritually dead (see ScG III, c. 139).
See ScG IV, c. 58 for a detailed comparison between the spiritual life and the corporeal life
or natural life.
48 While Aquinas frequently contrasts the spiritual life with the bodily life, the distinction
is better expressed as that between the spiritual life and the natural life, which includes the life
of the body as well as the life of natural reason, e.g., the moral life (vita moralia).

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72

to a journey on land, the horse is necessary 8 • Implicitly, T3
extends the distinction between necessity A and necessity 8 to any
end that we pursue, not just the end of living (vivere) or living
well (bene vivere), or some sort of life such as the spiritual life. T4
allows for this distinction in regard to human ends in a dearer
and more formal manner than T1 and T2. That is, even though
in T 4 Aquinas cites food as necessary for life to illustrate
necessity M he could also have used the example of the ship as
necessary A for an ocean voyage, since the end for humans is
simply referred to as an end, and not human life (existence), or
some specific type of life.
This extension is crucial if we are to sort out the ways in which
things are needed for ends that are embedded in chains of
subordinate and superordinate ends. Consider the example in
which someone must sail to some city in order to obtain money. 49
Even if we grant that the ship is necessary A to make the voyage
and to get the money, it can still be asked whether someone needs
the money. For example, (1) Smith might need the money to buy
food in time of famine, or (2) Johnson might need the money to
finance a wedding in keeping with the demands of his social
station, or (3) Jones, who is a merchant, might need the money to
buy expensive clothing typically worn by the aristocracy.
Conversely, (4) Brown might need the money to embellish her
family's diet with foods that are sought for their pleasure but that,
while not harmful, are certainly not necessary NB for maintaining
life or health.
If we assume that one has no access to food unless one has the
money to buy it, then in case (1) obtaining money to buy food is
necessary A for one's survival according to both T1 and T4.
Aquinas would probably grant that financing a wedding
according to one's social state, in case (2), is a legitimate
necessity. 50 Using T1, the ship and the money can only be re49 V Metaphys.,

lect. 6. The example is Aristotle's (see Metaphysics 5.5.1015a25).
The reasons are (a) that we are to ask for, and be content with, material things according
to our social state and the customs of the society in which we live (In orationem Dominicam
4) and (b) that Aquinas places limits on the alms one should give to retain one's social status
by arguing that "no one should remain 'indecently' in some state" ("quia nullus debet
indecenter in aliquo statu manere" [IV Sent., d. 15, q. 2, a. 4, sol. 1]). On this point see also
50

THE NECESSITIESOF LIFE

73

garded as necessaryBfor Johnson. Using T 4, the ship is necessaryA
for Johnson to get the money, the money is necessary A for
Johnson to finance the wedding, while the wedding itself might be
necessaryA or necessaryB to maintain Johnson's social state
according to the customs of the society in which Johnson lives,
and maintaining social status is necessaryB with regard to one's
well-being.
For Aquinas, it is wrong to acquire clothing (and especially
lavish clothing) that is not in keeping with one's social state as in
case (3).51 Not only is such acquisition not necessary for people's
well-being, it is necessary that one avoid such acquisition. So
according to T1, the ship and the money are not necessary for
Jones in any sense. According to formula T4, the ship is
necessaryA for getting the money and the money is necessaryA for
buying the clothes, although neither the ship nor the money is
necessary NB for Jones's well-being. Of course, as Aristotle points
out in Metaphysics 5.6, things may be necessary not only to
achieve some good but also to avoid some harm. So, for example,
if one thought that acquiring inordinate clothing was a mortal sin,
then, on both T1 and T4, it would be necessary A to avoid such an
action to preserve one's spiritual life.
Case (4) is rather more difficult. As I noted at the beginning of
the paper, Aquinas argues that material goods are licitly used only
so far as they are ordered to some necessity of life. Yet, he also
acknowledges that the temperate person can licitly consume foods
that are pleasurable so long as they are not harmful to health even
if they are not necessary to health in terms of either necessityArs· 52
According to T1, neither the ship nor the money would be
necessaryA or necessaryBto Brown. According to T4, while neither
the money nor the ship is necessaryNB regarding Brown's existence
or well-being, the ship is still necessaryA to obtain the money, and
the money is necessaryA to acquire the food (assuming that there
is no other way to acquire the food).
STh II-II, q. 32, a. 6. In both these texts Aquinas distinguishes between what is necessaryA as
that without which one cannot live and what is necessary8 as that without which one cannot
maintain one's social state.
·11 In orationem Dominicam 4.
52 STh II-II, q. 141, a. 6, ad 2.

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To sum up: T1 does not clearly provide a criterion for
determining whether something is necessary A!B for a partial end
which may be ordered to our existence or our well-being. T 4
provides a more nuanced formula for assessing what is needed for
any end, independently of the relation of a particular end to
further ends or the final end of preserving and perfecting our
existence. This more nuanced formula is important, since, as we
have seen, something may be necessary in some sense for a
specific end, which end may be necessary in the same or different
sense with regard to a further end. The further end, though, may
or may not be necessary for preserving or protecting our
existence; indeed, it may be harmful to either pursuit. Consider
a priest who consecrates the host in order to administer poison. 53
Putting poison in the bread is causally indifferent to performing
the sacrament, yet necessary to carrying out an undetected murder
of a rival, and clearly harmful to the priest if he is caught and
found guilty of murder. Nevertheless, the fact that it is immoral
to intend to murder someone in no way mitigates the necessity of
using a poisoned host to accomplish the proximate end of an
undetected murder.
Before we turn to a discussion of the universality and particularity of needs, I want to spend a moment discussing necessityB.
Note that the difference between necessity A and necessity 8 does
not consist in a mitigated sense of necessity. In T1, T2, and T4
both sorts of necessity are expressed in terms of an indispensability (sine qua non) criterion. Yet it must be admitted that
Aquinas does not always understand the indispensability criterion
of necessityBin a strict sense. On the one hand, the virtues are
necessaryB and strictly indispensable for a person to live well,
since happiness consists in activity according to virtue. 54 On the
other hand, the things that are necessary to live according to one's
social state are not "indivisible" in nature, since many external
goods can be added or subtracted from what people have while
53 SI'h III, q. 74, a. 2, ad 2. Aquinas cites the example for a somewhat different purpose
and without the detail I am giving. Aquinas notes that the mere intention to poison someone
counts as a sin. Of course, positive law might distinguish between attempted murder and
actual murder.
54 SI'h I, q. 88, a. 1.

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they are still able to live according to their social condition or
state in a fitting manner. 55
Aquinas specifies the formal difference between the senses of
necessityA and necessity8 with reference to the condition in which
the end exists: whether it exists at all or whether it exists well or
fittingly (convenienter). But how are we to understand this notion
of "fittingness"? The word convenire (and its related forms)
appears more than eight thousand times in Aquinas's writings, and
it takes on various meanings in different contexts. For example,
something is said convenienter of another thing when it follows
from the nature of the thing (e.g., as laughter follows from human
nature). 56 In other contexts (typically in regard to a moral good),
the conveniens is distinguished from what is harmful. 57 But our
focus here is conveniens in relation to what is necessary for
attaining an end. Aquinas's typical example of the necessity of the
horse for the journey seems to view the conveniens in terms of
sheer facility or convenience: it is easier to get around on a horse
than by foot. 58 On the other hand, confirmation does not just
make salvation easier, but rather it perfects baptism in a certain
way ("confirmatio perficit baptismum quodammodo"). 59 At times
however, something is fitting to an end because of the customs of
a particular group. For example, Aquinas argued that it was fitting
and required for priests in the Greek and Latin churches to
celebrate the Eucharist with leavened or unleavened bread
according to the respective customs of their church. 60 In another
sense, something is fitting with respect to the "dignity" of a
particular office or state: rulers and popes may wear certain
luxurious apparel in keeping with the demands of their office and
55 IV Sent., d. 15, q. 2, a. 4, sol. l; STh III, q. 32, a. 6. Of course, one could say that
external material goods are strictly indispensable for one's well-being or social state even
though this or that particular good may not be indispensable and necessary8 for one's wellbeing or social state.
56 I Sent., d. 8, q. 1, a. 1, ad 1; and STh II-II, q. 32, a. 6.
57 Cf. II Sent., d. 24, q. 2, a. 1; and STh I-II, q. 81, a. 2.
58 XII Metaphys., lect. 7.
59 STh III, q. 65, a. 4. Cf. IV Sent., d. 7, q. 2, a. 2, sol. 2; ScG IV, c. 58; STh III, q. 72, a.
2,ad 2.
60 STh III, q. 74, a. 4. See below for further discussion of this text.

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JOHN D. JONES

the respect it is supposed to be given.61 So, in this sense, a certain
dignitary might require a horse for a journey, not because the
horse makes the journey easier but because the office requires it.

II. UNIVERSALilY AND PARTICULARilY OF WHAT IS NECESSARY
FORAN END

A core issue in contemporary analysis of human needs is
whether needs are universal for all people or whether they can be
particularized according to culture, history, or other factors.
While Aquinas thinks that some things such as food and
friendship are needed universally by people relative to the ends of
preserving and perfecting their existence, he also allows that the
necessity of something for an end can be conditioned by various
circumstantial factors. So, he recognizes that people need things
to live according to the customs of their society and according to
their social state within a given society. One person may need
certain things to fulfill certain social roles or demands that will be
unnecessary and perhaps even harmful to others. 62
Even things necessary A for the very existence of the end may be
relative to historical conditions and circumstances. People caught
in Pompeii could have escaped the eruption of Mount Vesuvius
only if they had access to a ship. Indeed, even Aquinas's standard
example of food needed to sustain life to illustrate necessityA is
not without some specification a "universal need." As Aquinas
notes:
Although food is maximally necessary without qualification for the body,
nevertheless this is not so for each food. For if someone abstains from one food,
he can be sustained by another. 63
61 Cf. Contra impug. Dei, c. 8, ad 9.

62 See Sfh 11-11, q. 188, a. 7, where Aquinas defines the poverty lines for various types of

religious orders in terms of the different material things the orders require to fulfill their
apostolates. See John D. Jones, "Poverty and Subsistence," Gregorianum 75 (1994 ): 141-44,
147 for a discussion of this matter.
63 "Quamvis esca sit simpliciter maxime necessaria corpori, non tamen quaelibet esca. Si
enim aliquis ab una esca abstineat, potest alia sustentari" (Contra impug. Dei, c. 15, ad 9).
Moreover, food is not just necessaryA to sustain life. Aquinas is quite aware that food is
necessary for people to achieve other ends. He offers an interesting discussion of this point
in response to an objection that fasting is wrong, since it involves not only abstaining from

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T4 touches on the matter of the universality/particularity of
things needed for an end. Indeed, T 4 contains an interesting
anomaly, for it is the only text is which Aquinas defines something
necessary for an end as necessary simpliciter (without
qualification) for an end. 64 In every other text where he formally
distinguishes necessity from an end from other sorts of necessity
(e.g., necessity because of formal or material causes), he is careful
to describe necessity from an end as necessity ex conditione/
suppositione finis rather than as necessity from an end absolute or
simpliciter. 65 Necessity from an end arises from an extrinsic relation between the means and the end, whereas formal or material
necessity is due to an intrinsic relation between the things that are
necessary. Typically, what is said simpliciter is contrasted with
what is said secundum quid or relationally. While Thomas never
describes necessity from an end as necessarium/necessitas secundum quid, that formulation seems implicit given the characterization of such necessity as ex conditione/suppositione finis. What
is necessary because of intrinsic factors (either formal or material)
is necessary universally: for example, all triangles have three
angles. Necessity due to intrinsic factors is described as unqualified or absolute precisely for this reason. What is necessary for an
end by supposition would always seem to be conditional or
relational in character even if it is always required for the end,
superfluous food but also from necessary food and since to abstain from necessary food
implies that one would kill oneself. Thomas notes that food is necessary for people in two
basic senses. The first sense (necessityA) is for survival. The second sense (necessity8) is to
maintain the condition or "health" (valetudo) of the body. Moreover, this condition can be
taken in two senses: either (a) in respect to what is required for actions dictated "by one's
office or the society among which one lives" ("ex officio vel ex societate eorum ad quos
convivit") or (b) in respect to the "best condition of the body" ("optimam corporis
dispositionem") (IV Sent., d. 15, q. 3, a. 1, sol. 2, ad 3).
64 See also IV Sent., d. 15, q. 2, a. 4, sol. 1, where Aquinas characterizes that without which
a person cannot live or exist as "what is necessary without qualification as if according to an
absolute necessity" ("necessarium simpliciter quasi necessitate absoluta"). See also the text
from the Contra impugnantes Dei cited in the note above which describes food as "maximally
necessary without qualification for the body." These two examples together with the text from
STh III, q. 65, a. 4 show that over the course of his career Aquinas accepted a characterization
of what is necessaryA for human life as necessary simpliciter for an end even though this
characterization never enters into the definition of necessity from an end until STh III, q. 65,
a. 4.
65 See the texts cited in note 14 above.

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JOHN D. JONES

since the universality is not traced back to an intrinsic relation
between X and Y. 66 Hence, it is odd that Aquinas would describe
any sort of necessity from an end as unqualified or absolute.
It is even more striking that in T4 Aquinas gives two different
senses in which something necessary for an end is necessary
without qualification for the end. In the first sense, what is
necessary A for the very existence of an end is said to be necessary
without qualification (e.g., food is necessary without qualification
for preserving life) while things necessaryB for ends (such as a
horse for a journey) are said not to be necessary without
qualification. In the second sense, baptism is said to be necessary A
absolutely and without qualification for salvation, whereas
penance is necessary A for salvation, not absolutely or without
qualification but only on the condition that someone commits
mortal sin. Aquinas does not offer a parallel distinction regarding
things that are necessaryB for some end.
Notice that, in comparison with necessitys, necessity A is not
said to be unqualified because things necessary A are universally
required for their ends (e.g., food for survival), while things
necessarys are not universally required for their ends (e.g., a horse
for a journey). Rather, Aquinas uses simpliciter to characterize
something needed universally for an end when he describes the
difference between the necessity A of baptism for salvation and the
necessity A of penance for salvation. Everyone needs baptism to be
saved; only those who commit mortal sin after baptism require
penance, If so, then the contrast between the unqualified
necessity A of food for life and the "qualified" necessityBof a horse
for the journey cannot be traced to a difference in scope or
universality per se.
In STh I, q. 5, a. 1, ad 1, Aquinas draws a distinction between
ens simpliciter-said of a being in light of its substantial being
which causes it to be actual rather than potential-and ens
secundum quid-said of something in regard to an actuality it
receives over and above its mere substantial existence (e.g., that
66 Although see STh III, q. 84, a. 6, where Aquinas distinguishes between what is directly
or per se ordered to an end and what is necessary for an end only because of certain accidental
factors. See below for discussion of this text.

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something is white). Aquinas seems to be drawing a similar
distinction in T4 when he calls something necessary A for an end
necessary without qualification. Means necessary A for an end are
necessary without qualification for the end because the end is
being considered simply or without qualification: that is, merely
in regard to its existence. Things necessary 8 for an end, then, are
necessary secundum quid, or relatively, because the end is being
considered in regard to some particular state over and above its
mere existence, that is, a more perfect rather than a less perfect
state.
To sum up, then, there are three senses in which the pair
simpliciter/secundum quid can apply to necessity from an end. 67
First, in contrast to what is necessary simpliciter for something
because of formal or material factors, nothing necessary for an
end is necessary without qualification but only conditionally or
suppositionally, and therefore, relationally (secundum quid).
Second, anything that is necessaryA for an end is necessary
simpliciter for the end, while anything necessary 8 for an end is
necessary in relation to the more or less perfect existence of the
end. In this sense, something is necessary A without qualification
for an end regardless of whether it is universally required for the
end (e.g., baptism) or required only under certain conditions (e.g.,
penance). Of course, one needs to be cautious in claiming that, in
this second sense, something is necessary without qualification for
an end. Food, for example, is necessary for the conservation of
the body only on the condition that one refers to the body in its
natural state (whether or not before the fall) 68 and not to the
glorified or resurrected body (assuming that in some sense it is the
same body as one's natural body). 69 So too, even baptism is
necessary A for the spiritual life only given the existence of original
sin.
Third, whatever is universally necessary A for an end is
necessary simpliciter for the end, while what is necessary A for an
end in certain contexts is necessary secundum quid for the end.
67 Later (see note 84 below), I will specify a fourth sense in which this pair applies to
necessity from an end.
68 STh I, q. 97, a. 3.
69 ScG IV, c. 83.

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Although Aquinas does not do so, it is easy to extend this third
sense to things necessary8 for an end. Friendship is universally
necessary8 for human well-being and, therefore, necessary without
qualification for human well-being. Horses might often be necessary to make a journey easier or "move about at will," but they
are not always so, for example, if one is trying to chase Br' er
Rabbit through a very dense thicket. Hence, they are necessary 8
in relation to the journey and the circumstances under which it
taken.
The third sense of what is necessary simpliciter for an end
obviously sets forth the distinction between what might be
regarded as "universal" and "particular" needs. As I noted earlier,
it is a mistake to formulate the notion of a need, or of something
necessary for an end, simply in terms of a relation between what
is needed and the end. Needs statements-in Aquinas's language,
statements expressing necessity from an end-make reference to
the entity, A, for which Y is an end as well as the context, Z, in
which the end is pursued. So, a complete statement expressing
necessity from an end is that X is necessary for A to attain end Y
in conditions Z. Although Thomas never develops the formula for
necessity from an end in precisely this way, I see no reason why
he would reject it. Indeed, given the way in which he distinguishes
between the conditions under which baptism and penance are
necessary for salvation, there is every reason to think that he
would accept it. Two examples will illustrate the importance of
this precision.
In T 4, Aquinas holds that baptism is unqualifiedly necessary
for salvation both in the sense that we cannot have spiritual life
without baptism and in the sense that everyone must be baptized
in order to be saved. However, the necessityA of baptism for
salvation is true only relative to humans and not relative to God.
In responding to the question whether it was necessary that God
institute the sacraments after the fall, Aquinas writes:
The sacraments were not necessary according to an absolute necessity, as it is
necessary that God exist, since they would have been instituted in virtue of
divine goodness alone. But they were instituted according to the necessity which
arises from the supposition of an end, not so that God could not save humans
without them, since he does not bind his power to the sacraments ... (as food

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is necessary to human life), but since he accomplishes a more congruous
reparation of humans though the sacraments, as a horse is necessary for a
journey, since a person can travel more easily on a horse. 70

So, God need not have instituted the sacraments to save humans,
and he is not bound to provide salvation through them. In other
words, from God's point of view and with reference to the end of
securing our salvation, the sacraments enjoy only necessitys and
they are not strictly indispensable even in that sense. The necessity
of the sacraments for our salvation might seem to be different
from the necessity of creating food so that humans can live. So,
for Aquinas,
Necessity in God's works cannot arise except from the form which is the end of
operation. For seeing that the form is not infinite, it has determined principles
without which it cannot exist in a determined mode of being. Thus we might say,
for instance, supposing that God intends to make a human, that it is necessary
and due that he give him a rational soul and an organic body, without which
there cannot be a human. 71

Moreover, "if God willed the existence of plants and animals,
it was due that he should make the heavenly bodies, whereby
those things are preserved. If he willed the existence of man, it
was necessary for him to make plants and animals and other
things like them which man needs for perfect existence. "72 God
need not have created anything, yet having willed to create a
universe in which there are people it was necessary, given human
70 "Sacramenta non erant necessaria necessitate absoluta, sicut necessarium est deum esse,
cum ex sola divina bonitate instituta sint, sed de necessitate quae est ex suppositione finis; non
ita tamen quod sine his deus hominem sanare non posset, quia sacramentis virtutem suam non
alligavit ... (sicut cibus necessarius est ad vitam humanam), sed quia per sacramenta magis
congrue fit hominis reparatio; sicut equus dicitur necessarius ad iter, quia in equo facilius
homo vadit" (IV Sent., d. 1, q. 1, a. 2, sol. 1; cf. STh III, q. 64, a. 7).
71 "In operibus divinis esse non potest nisi ex forma, quae est finis operationis. Ipsa enim
cum non sit infinita, habet detenninata principia, sine quibus esse non potest; et determinatum
modum essendi, ut si dicamus, quod supposito quod deus intendat hominem facere,
necessarium est et debitum quod animam rationalem ei conferat et corpus organicum, sine
quibus homo esse non potest" (De Pot., q. 3, a. 16). The form which is the end of operation
(activity) is the created form that God produces, for example, the created form of a human.
72 "Si animalia et plantas deus esse voluit, debitum fuit ut caelestia corpora faceret, ex
quibus conservantur; et si hominem esse voluit, oportuit facere plantas et animalia, et alia
huiusmodi quibus homo indiget ad esse perfectum" (ScG II, c. 28).

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nature, that he create humans with a sensible body and a rational
soul and that he create the things without which humans could
not exist or be naturally perfected. And yet God does not "bind
his power to natural things so that he cannot act outside them
when he wills what he accomplishes in miraculous acts. ,m Indeed,
in relation to creatures, there is a sense in which God is not subject to any necessity from an end, both because God's own end,
which is his goodness, does not require that he produce anything
at all and because "there is no doubt that God can introduce many
other means to some end than those which in some manner have
been determined to an end. " 74 In sum, so far as God has willed to
produce effects according to the order of nature, these effects
come to existence and attain perfection in light of the means they
naturally require. Yet he is not bound to necessity from an end in
either sense that things are necessary for ends.
To the second example: just as something may be necessary A
for us to obtain a certain end while for God it is at most
necessary 8 , individuals may have to contend with certain means
that are necessary A for them to pursue ends which are only
necessary 8 or not necessary at all from the standpoint of society
or collective human action. Consider someone who wishes to
attend a particular graduate program in which the applicant must
have a 3.5 GPA even to be considered. Certainly this requirement
is humanly constructed and enforced by those who administer the
program. It was probably not necessary that they establish this
requirement for admittance to the program in the sense that food
is necessary for life,75 but rather it may have been selected for any
number of reasons for the sake of controlling admission to the
program. At most, the GPA requirement is necessary 8 from the
73 "Deus non alligavit virtutem suam rebus naturalibus, ut non possit praeter eas operari
cum voluerit quod in miraculosis actibus facit" (IV Sent., d. 6, q. 1, a. 1, sol. 2). See also Sfh
I, q. 105, a. 6 and I-II, q. 51, a. 4 where Aquinas indicates that God can produce the effects
of secondary causes without those causes, and Comp. theol. I, c. 136 where the production
of an effect outside the order of secondary causes ("praeter ordinem causarum secundarum")
is called a miracle.
74 "Non est dubium quin deus ad aliquem finem posset inducere multis aliis viis etiam
quam illis quae modo determinatae sunt ad finem aliquem" (III Sent., d. 20, q. 1, a. 1, sol. 3).
75 Unless, of course, they are subject to others such as an accreditation agency which
mandates the requirement and has the power to terminate the program.

THE NECESSITIES OF LIFE

83

standpoint of those who create and enforce the requirement.
From the standpoint of the individual applicant, however, the
requirement is necessaryA for consideration for admission (so
long, of course, as the requirement is rigidly enforced by those
who administer the program). In regard to the individual
applicant, having the 3.5 GPA is necessary A for admission to the
program just as food is necessary A for the preservation of the
applicant's life. In any event, these two examples should make
evident that the necessity of X for end Y is determined by
reference both to the entity pursuing the end and the conditions
under which the end is pursued.
HI. BASIC NEEDS

The concept of basic needs is fundamental to much
contemporary discussion of needs. 76 The importance of this topic
is not just theoretical; it has significant moral import once we
grant that "needs claims" by themselves carry no moral weight.
The mere fact that A needs X for Y does not imply that A has any
right to or moral claim on X. However, the concept of basic
needs is often formulated to provide such moral warrant to needs,
especially in the area of public policy and the distribution of
scarce resources. 77 At its core, the distinction between basic and
76 See the worb listed in note 3 above for literature in this area. Perhpas the best single
treatment of the problem of basic needs is found in Katrin Lederer and Johan Gal tung, eds.,
Human Needs: A Contribution to the Current Debate (Cambridge, Mass.: Oelgeschlager,
Gunn & Hain, 1980).
77 On the other hand, the inability of people to satisfy certain sorts of needs, e.g., minimal
subsistence needs, might seem to provide some moral basis for positive rights. Aquinas, for
example, follows a patristic and canonical principle that allows people in extreme necessity
(necessitas extrema) to take from others without their permission what is required to alleviate
the necessity (STh IT-II, q. 66, a. 7, ad 2). For a general discussion of the sense and use of this
principle in the Middle Ages see Giles Couvreur, Les pauvres ont-ilt des droits? (Rome, 1961 ).
Since I do not want to pursue the normative aspects of identifying and obtaining things which
are necessary for an end, I will not pursue this question in this paper. However, for some
references in this area see: James Sterba, Contmporary Social and Political Philosophy
(Belmont, Calif.: Wadsworth Publishing Co., 1995) for an attempt to assess various schemes
of distributive justice with regard to meeting a minimalist conception of basic needs; Robert
Goodin, "The Priority of Needs," Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 4 5 ( 19 8 0): 61525; C. Dyke, Philosophy of Economi<:s (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice Hall, 1981); David

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JOHN D. JONES

non-basic needs implies that needs can somehow be compared
with one another to be ranked or prioritized. Since needs claims
do not carry automatic moral weight, they must be ranked or
prioritized within moral discourse regardless of whether one
develops a concept of basic needs.
Is there any basis in Aquinas for articulating a notion of basic
needs? Or, more fundamentally and accurately, in what ways does
Aquinas rank and prioritize needs? From the outset, I want to
emphasize that Aquinas never uses a phrase that we could
translate as "basic necessities." Indeed, my answer to the first
question is largely negative. I explore the second question to
establish a basis for subsequent research regarding the moral
weight which Aquinas might give to needs claims. Hence, let me
suggest six senses in which Aquinas seems to prioritize things
necessary for an end in relation to one another.
(1) "Things necessary for life" or "necessities of life"
(necessaria/necessitates vitae) have priority over other things that
people need but that are not included among the necessities of
life.
(2) What is necessary A for an end is prior to what is necessarys
for an end. This is the order of necessity (via necessitatis).
(3) What is necessaryNB for (human) life and perfection is prior
to what is necessary A/B for some specific end pursued by someone.
(4) What is necessary NB for the existence or perfection of an
end and is directly ordered to the existence of the end (i.e.,
universally required by all those who pursue the end) is prior to
what is necessary A/B for the existence of the end under certain
circumstances or supervening accidents.
(5) Relative to the order of perfection (via perfectionis), the
perfection of an end is prior to the mere existence of an end, since
in the order of perfection, act takes priority over potentiality.
Hence, what is necessarys for the perfection of an end is prior to
what is necessary A for the mere existence of an end.

Hollenbach, Claims in Conflict: Retrievingand Renewingthe Catholic Human RightsTradition
(New York: Paulist Press, 1979), 204££; and David Braybrooke, Meeting Needs (Princeton,
N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1987).

THE NECESSITIESOF LIFE

85

(6) So far as one end is deemed prior to another end, then
what is necessaryNB for the first end may be prior to what is
necessaryA and/or what is necessary 8 for the second end.
In the first sense, "necessities of life" (necessaria/necessitates
vitae) are somehow prior to other things that people need.
Certainly, we often use the phrase "necessities of life" in this
manner, for example, in defining poverty lines as the point at
which people have only the income to provide the necessities of
life. Of course, the phrase "necessities of life" has a more or less
narrow sense in contemporary usage. At times, it may refer only
to mere subsistence needs. At other times, it may extend to what
people need to preserve some minimally decent social status (e.g.,
in most industrial societies this might include having a refrigerator
or telephone, or being literate). Aquinas provides no settled
meaning to the terms necessaria/necessitates vitae. As I noted
earlier, while the phrase necessitates vitae seems to refer
principally to material things needed in this life, the phrase
necessaria vitae seems to extend to virtually anything that is
necessary for humans ends related to the conservation or
perfection of life. Presumably the "necessities of life" will not
include what people need for proximate ends that are immoral,
harmful to a person's life, or are not necessaryNB for our existence
or perfection. On the other hand, "necessities of life" could
include anything that people need for the ends that they pursue
(unless the ends are immoral or harmful), since presumably all
proximate ends are chosen for the sake of well-being or happiness
considered as a perfect, final, and self-sufficient good. But I find
no clear textual evidence that Aquinas distinguishes between what
is necessary for human life (taken in the broadest sense) and what
is necessary for people to pursue some end but which does not fall
into the category of the "necessities of life." That is, the first sense
for prioritizing needs appears to reflect a more modern distinction
than one employed by Aquinas.
In the second sense, what is necessaryA for an end is prior to
what is necessary8 for an end, since the end cannot exist at all
without what is necessaryA for it. But if this distinction is to serve
as a basis for distinguishing between basic and non-basic human

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JOHN D. JONES

needs, to which end should we refer? It is tempting to say human
life or existence. But then does one mean life in an unqualified
sense or in some more specified sense: natural life, moral life,
spiritual life, civic life, etc.? It is tempting to take life in an
unqualified sense, but then the only things necessaryA for human
life will be those things that are required for mere existence or
survival. But this is quite minimal, since as Aquinas says, "nature
is content with little. " 78 Aquinas might appear to give some
support to prioritizing needs in this way when he sets forth a
sense in which someone is said to need (indiget) something.
Necessity conditioned on the supposition of an end is twofold. On the one hand,
as that without which one cannot attain an intended end, e.g., one cannot attain
the conservation of life without food. On the other hand, as that without which
someone cannot attain an end easily, namely, as a horse is said to be necessary
for a person to take a journey. The name "utility" is common to both of these
modes of necessity ... but the name "need" is more related to the first of the
modes. For we are properly said to need that without which we cannot attain an
end. 79

This text reflects a general priority of what is necessary A for an
end, and apparently any end, over what is only necessary 8 for it.
So, if one adopts this criterion as the basis for distinguishing basic
from non-basic needs and, thus, specifies the end as human life in
an unqualified sense, then, for example, a person properly needs
only the food he or she requires to stay alive. However, the food
that is required to perform one's work or to attain health is only
useful but not needed. 80 On this view, we would not need
"modicis natura contenta est" (IV Sent., d. 15, q. 3, a. 1, sol. 2, ad 3).
ex suppositione finis] est duplex: quaedam scilicet sine qua
non potest haberi finis intentus, sicut sine cibo non potest haberi conservatio vitae; quaedam
vero sine qua non potest aliquis ad finem de facili pertingere, sicut dicitur equus necessarius
homini ad peragendum iter: et nomen utilitatis commune est utrique modorum necessitatis
... ; sed nomen indigentiae magis se habet ad primum modum eorum: illo enim proprie
dicimur indigere sine quo finem consequi non possumus" (II Sent., d. 29, q. 1, a. 1).
80 At this point, of course, normative concerns quickly arise. Even if we grant that what is
necessary A for human life is more basic that what is necessary 8 for human life, it is
controversial whether only things necessary A for human life are basic in the sense of having
some exclusive moral claim for satisfaction. Surely, Aquinas would grant that being virtuous
is necessary A for human well-being and that creating conditions (e.g., education of children
and the establishment of positive law) in which proper moral habits can be formed is at least
78

79 "Necessitas [conditionata

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87

(indiget) either moral virtues or the sacraments for our life (if
"life" is taken without qualification) even though we could be said
to need the moral virtues for moral life and natural happiness, and
we could be said to need baptism or penance for spiritual life,
since moral virtue, baptism, and penance are necessary A for the
moral life and the spiritual life respectively.
Let us, then, turn to the third sense in which needs can be
ranked. For Aquinas, humans tend to their own perfection and
well-being, both natural and supernatural. Human life is not
ordered just to living (existing) but to living (existing) well. In
contrast to the narrow sense, given above, in which people can be
said to need (indiget) something, Aquinas provides a more
expansive definition:
Someone is said to need something without qualification and relationally.
Someone needs without qualification that without which he cannot be conserved
in being or in his perfection .... But someone relationally needs that without
which he cannot attain some intended end, or cannot attain it well, or in some
manner. 81
necessary" for the formation of those habits. Indeed, he follows Aristotle in viewing the
education of children as one of the necessities of life which is provided by the household (I
Polit., leer. 7; and Aristotle, Politics 1.13.1260b12-15). But creating such conditions would
not count as basic needs on the present interpretation any more than the virtues would count
as basic needs. Seebohn Rowntree in an oft-quoted text well describes the lives of families who
have access merely to subsistence good: They "must never spend a penny on railway fare or
omnibus. They must never go to the country unless they walk. They must never purchase a
half-penny newspaper or spend a penny to buy a ticket for a popular concert. They must write
no letters to absent children for they cannot afford the postage. They must never contribute
anything to their church or chapel, or give any help to a neighbor which costs money ...
nothing must be bought except that what is absolutely necessary for the maintenance of
physical health" (quoted in Bradley Schiller, The Economics of Poverty and Discrimination,
5'h ed. [Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice Hall, 1989], 18).
81 "Aliquis dicitur indigere aliquo et simpliciter et secundum quid. Simpliciter quidem
indiget aliquis illo sine quo non potest conservari in esse vel in sua perfectione .... Sed
secundum quid indiget aliquis illo sine quo non potest aliquem finem intentum habere, vel non
ita bene, vel tali modo" (IV Sent., d. 44, q. 2, a. 3, sol. 2, ad 2). Aquinas's example in making
this distinction is a bit unclear. He makes the distinction in response to a question of whether
glorified or resurrected bodies move (i.e., engage in locomotion) as a result of any need
(indigentia). He responds that they do not have any need simpliciter to move since their
beatitude (i.e., uninterrupted contemplation of God) completely suffices for their perfection.
On the other hand, he admits that the glorified bodies might engage in locomotion for various
reasons, e.g., simply to actualize the power they have to move. Aquinas acknowledges that this
motion does not diminish the beatitude of the glorified bodies; certainly it does not increase

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JOHN D. JONES

In this text, we can say that we need (indiget) whatever is
necessaryA or necessary 8 for any end we pursue. 82 However, the
key distinction in this text is between what is we need simpliciter,
that is, for our life and perfection, and what we need secundum
quid, that is, in relation to some particular end. Supposing that
what is said simpliciter has some priority over what is said
secundum quid, then we have a third sense for prioritizing things
people need: what people need without qualification for life and
perfection is prior to what people need for the existence and
perfection of some particular end. In this sense, basic needs might
be regarded as those things which people need simpliciter, that is
to say, for their life and perfection. Non-basic needs would be
those required relationally, that is, for some specific end which
was not required to conserve someone in his or her perfection and
existence. It is clear that basic needs would encompass a much
broader set of needs than what is simply necessary A for
maintaining life in an unqualified sense. In this more expansive
sense, so-called subsistence needs, moral virtues, and the
sacraments would all count as basic needs, whereas neither a horse
the beatitude. This discussion is certainly arcane, at least from our point of view, and it is not
clear how the distinction between the two senses of needing something relates to human life,
since many of our particular actions are ordered toward conserving our existence and
perfection (e.g., individual actions of eating, studying, doing things with friends, etc.). It seems
that something may be needed relatively for a particular end only if it is indifferent to
conserving our existence or perfection. But the text does not clearly justify this view. It is
possible that this criterion will collapse into the first criterion if we identify necessities of life
(necessariavitae) with what we need simpliciter,that is, for conserving our life and perfection.
Yet, Aquinas does not make this sort of identification, and it is not clear that he restricts the
concept of necessariavitae in this way.
82 Despite the rather restricted sense given to indigere in the text from II Sent., quoted
above, Aquinas typically uses indigerein the broader senses given in the text from IV Sent.,
See, for example, "Ille qui dat usuram non simpliciter voluntarie dat, sed cum quadam
necessitate, inquantum indiget pecuniam accipere mutuo, quam ille qui habet non vult sine
usura mutuare" ("The person who pays usury does not without qualifcation do so voluntarily,
but in terms of a certain necessity: he accepts the loan in so far as he needs money, because
the person who has the money will not loan it without usury" [STh II-II, q. 78, a. 1, ad 7]).
See also "Si non habeat pecuniam in promptu unde emat equum sed oportet earn acquirere
per operationem alicuius artificii, ad quae exercenda iterum indigeat quaerere instrumenta
alicuius artificii" ("If someone does not have money at hand in order to buy a horse, but must
acquire [the money] through performing some art, for the exercise of which he needs to seek
out the instrument of that art ... " [II De caelo et mundo, c. 18]).

THE NECESSITIESOF LIFE

89

necessary8 to make a journey easier nor a ship necessary A to make
an ocean voyage would be basic unless they were related to
conserving life and perfection.
This leads to the fourth sense for ranking needs. Suppose one
needs a ship in order to survive, as did the folks in Pompeii when
they tried to escape the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius. In that
situation, should we regard a ship as a basic need? Imagine some
kind soul setting out to satisfy the basic needs of the folks on the
shore in Pompeii by distributing to them crates of food unloaded
from ships in the harbor and refusing to let the people use the
ships. So too, does penance count as a basic need for the spiritual
life, since it is only necessaryA for spiritual life on the supposition
of actual sin? While the ship for the folks in Pompeii and the
sacrament of penance for those committing a mortal sin might be
included as what is necessary simpliciter for conserving life and
perfection according to the third sense for prioritizing needs,
Aquinas explicitly acknowledges a sense in which what is
universally necessaryNB for an end takes priority over what is
necessary A/B only under certain circumstances. 83 Consider the
following text:
That which exists in itself precedes naturally that which is accidental, as
substance precedes accident. Now some sacraments are, of themselves, ordered
to human salvation, e.g., baptism, which is spiritual birth, confirmation which
is spiritual growth, and the Eucharist which is spiritual food. However, penance
is ordered to human salvation accidentally as it were, and on something being
supposed, namely, sin. For unless someone actually sins, he would not stand in
need of penance and yet he would need baptism, confirmation, and the
Eucharist; even as in the life of the body, a person would need no medical
treatment, unless he were ill. Yet life, birth, growth, and nutrition are in
themselves necessary to man. 84
83 Here, of course, I refer to the third sense in which something is necessary
simpliciter/secundum quid for an end, which clearly is quite different from the third criterion
just given for ranking needs, namely, the sense in which we need (indiget) something
simpliciter for life and perfection, but only secundum quid in relation to a particular end. In
effect, the third criterion for ranking needs yields a fourth sense in which the pair
simplictier/secundum quid applies to necessity from an end.
84 "Id quod est per se, naturaliter prius est eo quod est per accidens, sicut et substantia
prior est accidente. Sacramenta autem quaedam per se ordinantur ad salutem hominis, sicut
baptismus, qui est spiritualis generatio et confirmatio, quae est spirituale augmentum, et
eucharistia, quae est spirituale nutrimentum. Poenitentia autem ordinatur ad salutem hominis

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JOHN D. JONES

Hence, if X and Y are necessary A or necessary 8 for the same end,
X is prior to Y if it is directly or per se related to the existence
and or perfection of the end rather than required only in certain
circumstances. This is the fourth sense for prioritizing or ranking
what is necessary for some end. Notice that prioritizing needs on
this basis cuts across the distinction between necessity A and
necessity 8 • Moreover, on this criterion, what is per se necessary 8
for the perfection of an end takes priority over what is necessary A
for the end but only under certain circumstances. Taken as a
criterion for basic needs, then, presumably only those things
which all people need for life and perfection would be counted as
basic needs. So, to return to an earlier example, if we adopted this
criterion for satisfying basic needs and we were authorized only
to satisfy the basic needs of the folks in Pompeii, then they would
only get the food but would not be allowed passage on the ships.
Next, let us consider the fifth criterion for ranking needs.
Consider the groups faith, hope, and charity on the one hand and
baptism, confirmation, and the Eucharist on the other. AB of them
are necessary in some sense for the spiritual life of humans. 85 In
the order of necessity (via necessitatis), faith is prior to and more
necessary than hope and charity, while baptism is prior to and
more necessary than confirmation and the Eucharist. 86 Yet from
quasi per accidens, supposito quodam, scilicet ex suppositione peccati. Nisi enim homo
peccaret actualiter, poenitentia non indigeret, indigeret tamen baptismo et confirmatione et
eucharistia, sicut et in vita corporali non indigeret homo medicatione nisi infirmaretur, indiget
autem homo per se ad vitam generatione, augmento et nutrimento" (STh Ill, q. 84, a. 6). Cf.
ScG IH, c. 154.
"'IV Sent., d. 1, q. l, a. 2, sol. 1; ScG IV, c. 58; STh III, q. 65, a. 4.
86 Consider the following text, "According to the order of necessity, baptism is the greatest
of the sacraments; yet from the point of view of perfection, order comes first; while
confirmation holds a middle place. The sacraments of penance and extreme unction are at a
degree inferior to those mentioned above; because, as stated above, they are ordered to the
Christian life, not directly, but accidentally, as it were, that is to say, as remedies against
supervening defects. And among these, extreme unction is compared to penance, as
confirmation to baptism; in such a way, that penance is more necessary, whereas extreme
unction is more perfect" ("Nam in via necessitatis, baptism us est potissimum sacramentorum;
in via autem perfectionis, sacramentum ordinis; medio autem modo se habet sacramentum
confirmationis. Sacramentum vero poenitentiae et extremae unctionis sunt inferioris gradus
a praedictis sacramentis, quia, sicut dictum est, ordinantur ad vitam christianam non per se,
sed quasi per accidens, scilicet in remedium supervenientis defectus. Inter quae tamen extrema
unctio comparatur ad poenitentiam sicut confirmatio ad baptismum, ita scilicet quod

THE NECESSITIES OF LIFE

91

the point of view of the order of perfection (via perfectionis),
charity is prior to faith and hope because it perfects our love of
God, 87 while the Eucharist is necessary for the consummation of
spiritual life and, therefore, as perfecting the effect of the
sacraments of baptism and confirmation. 88 Aquinas never
explicitly describes charity or the Eucharist as more necessary
than faith and hope or baptism and confirmation respectively. 89
Yet relative to the perfection of the spiritual life, charity and the
Eucharist are in a sense more necessary than the others, since they
produce the full perfection of the spiritual life. If there can be no
spiritual life without baptism or faith, there can be no fully perfect
spiritual life without the Eucharist and charity. Here, then, I
would suggest that we have a fifth sense of prioritizing things
necessary to an end. Relative to the order of perfection (via
perfectionis), the perfection of an end is prior to the mere
existence of an end, since all things are ordered to their proper
end as their actualization; hence what is necessary 8 for the
perfection of an end is prior to what is only necesaary A for the
mere existence of an end.

poenirentia est maioris necessitatis, sed extrema unctio est maioris perfectionis" [Sfh HI, q.
65, a. 3]). Note that earlier in this same article, Aquinas argued that the Eucharist is the
greatest or most important (potissimum) of all the sacraments, since it is their end and,
therefore, perfects all the others. So it seems that the claim that the sacrament of orders comes
first in the order of perfection needs some qualification. Second, given that in STh III, q. 65,
a. 4 (T4 above), Aquinas holds that the sacrament of orders is necessary A for the Church, it
is odd that here he would view it as first in the order of perfection. For another contrast
between the order of necessity and the order of perfection see Reportationes ineditae Leoninae
n. 3 (Jn I Car. 12.22).
87 For the inverse relations among faith, hope, and charity in terms of necessity and
perfection see STh I-II, q. 62, a. 4.
88 STh III, q. 73, a. 3. On the one hand, charity is the end of faith and hope, while the
Eucharist is the end of baptism and confirmation (and indeed of all the other sacraments). On
the other, charity and the Eucharist are themselves means to the foll perfection of the spiritual
life. It is in the latter sense that charity and the Eucharist are said to be necessary in relation
to an end.
89 Although note the following remark: "It is better to assist others in spiritual matters than
in temporal matters to the extent that spiritual things are more important than temporal things
and more necessary to attaining the end of
("est autem maius subvenire alteri in
spiritualibus quam in tempora!ibus: quanto spiritualia sunt ternporalibus potiora, et magis
necessaria ad finem beatitudinis consequendum" [ScG m, c. 134)).

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The sixth sense of ranking needs is perhaps the most complexo
So far as one end is deemed prior to another end, then what is
necessary A/B for the first end may be prior to what is necessary A/B
for the second endo For example, Aquinas writes that spiritual
alms are in some sense more necessary to people than corporeal
almso He defends this view against objections that give a constant
priority to corporeal alms over spiritual alms on the ground that
what pertains to the life of the body is more necessary than what
pertains to the life of the spirit. Aquinas's most nuanced response
to this objection is found in IV Sententiarum:
Alms have efficacy, as was said, on the part of the giver and on the part of the
recipient .... In relation to the recipient, alms can be measured in two ways,
either by reason of the good which is conferred, and in this sense spiritual alms
are preeminent, or [they can be measured] by reason of what is necessary. In this
sense some spiritual alms are more important than some corporeal alms, namely
those [spiritual alms] which are ordered against fault are more important than
any corporeal alms, since a person ought more to avoid fault than some bodily
defect, even death. However, some corporeal alms, namely, those which are
directed to the sustenance of life, are more necessary than spiritual alms, namely,
those which are directed to well-being. But those [spiritual alms] which are
directed to spiritual well-being are more necessary than those which are directed
to corporeal well-being. In this way it is evident that some spiritual alms are
more important than all corporeal alms and similarly in kind when speaking of
both sorts of alms. 90

Hence, even though, for example, food is necessary without
qualification for human life, supplying food to people may not
always take precedence over supplying spiritual alms, if the latter
90 "Eleemosyna habet efficaciam, ut dictum est, et ex pane dantis, et ex parte recipienris .
. . . ex parte autem recipientis potest mensurari eleemosyna dupliciter; vel ratione boni quo<l
confertur, et sic adhuc eleemosyna spiritualis praeeminet: vel rarione necessarii, et sic quaedam
spirituales sunt quibusdam corporalibus potiores, scilicet quae contra culpam ordinantur,
quibuscumque deemosynis corporalibus: quia homo magis debet vi tare culpam quam aliquem
defectum corporalem, eriam mortem. Quaedam vero corporales, quae scilicet sunt ad
sustentarionem vitae, quibusdam eleemosynis spiritualibus magis sunt necessariae, sci!icetquae
sunt ad bene esse; sed illae quae sunt ad bene esse spirituale, sunt magis necessariae illis quae
sunt ad bene esse corporale. Sic ergo patet quod omnibus corporalibus eleemosynis aliquae
spirituales poriores sunt, et similiter in genere loquendo de utrisque" (IV Sent., d. 15, q. 2, a.
3, sol. 3). Cf. STh HI, q. 32, a. 3. Unfortunately, Aquinas does not provide dear examples to
illustrate these various priorities.

THE NECESSITIES OF LIFE

93

are necessary to avoid some fault. The same thing would be true
in relation to preserving one's moral integrity: at times it may be
necessary to expose oneself to death in order to conserve moral
virtue. (Consider the case of prisoners of war who can obtain food
only if they disclose military secrets.) So too, even though Aquinas
writes that one should never give that without which one cannot
live (things necessaryA for natural life), he nevertheless allows that
even in conditions where someone has only enough to preserve
the life of herself and her family, she might still give "to a great
person through whom the church and the republic are sustained,
for it is praiseworthy to expose oneself and those in one's care to
mortal danger to free such a person, since the common good is to
be preferred to one's own good. " 91
As I have illustrated in the previous discussion, each of these
criteria might provide some basis for distinguishing between basic
and non-basic needs, but this is a merely linguistic accomplishment, since it recasts one of Aquinas's distinctions in a more
modern idiom. It is not clear that any of the six criteria provide
some automatic moral warrant for the needs that are prioritized
according to each particular criterion. Moreover, I am not certain
it is worth the effort to find some basis in Aquinas for defining
basic needs or, that to be relevant to contemporary discussions of
needs, one must find this sort of basis in Aquinas's writings. As I
have argued elsewhere, the project of conceptualizing basic needs
is often mired in stipulation, driven by social and political
ideology, and complicated by normative and moral concerns. 92
Rather than trying to graft the modern category of basic needs
onto Aquinas in an anachronistic manner, it seems more profitable to look at the various sorts of distinctions and comparisons
he makes among needs, assess them on their merits, and
91 "alicui magnae personae, per quam ecclesia vel respublica sustentaretur, quia pro talis
personae liberatione seipsum et suos laudabiliter periculo morris exponeret, cum bonum
commune sit proprio praeferendum" (Sfh 11-11, q. 32, a. 6).
92 See John Jones, "How Basic Are Basic Needs?" The Journal for Peace and Justice Studies
8 (1997): 44-48. Analysisof basic needs is complicated in a bad sense by moral concerns when
those concerns are the driving force behind the definition of basic needs (i.e., one formulates
a definition of basic needs so that it fits with the particular moral agenda one has).

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JOHN D. JONES

determine to what extent they might be helpful to contemporary
assessments of needs.
IV. THE POLITICAL AND CONVENTIONAL CONTEXT FOR HUMAN
NEEDS

The fourth criterion for prioritizing needs relies on a belief
that some things are necessary for human life and perfection as
directly or per se ordered to life and perfection. This belief seems
to imply that there are certain things that people naturally need
or need by nature, and that these needs might be determined
through a strictly rational sort of analysis that considers human
nature alone (that is, humans qua humans). While this model
might be appealing in the abstract, since needs presumably based
on our nature would enjoy the strongest sort of priority, the
model requires substantive modification when one considers what
people need in their actual, determinate existence. This model
does not really take into account the manner in which human
needs are determined by the social contexts in which people live.
Recall that for Aquinas humans are essentially social and they
must live in civil society in order to live well (at least in regard to
natural happiness). Individuals stand in relation to the city as parts
to a whole and, as such, the well-being of the individual is ordered
to the well-being of the community in which he or she lives. 93 On
more than one occasion, for example, Aquinas explicitly adopts
the view that the common good of the city takes precedence over
the good of the individual and that, implicitly, the good of the
individual is subordinate to the good of the community. 94
93 See, e.g., STh I-ll, q. 90, a. 3, ad 3; HI, q. 92, a. 1, ad 3; H-U, q. 58, a. 7, ad 2; IHI, q.
61, a. 1; II-II, q. 64, a. 4; and U-H, q. 64, a. 5. For a discussion of the various meanings of
"common good" for Aquinas, see Gregory Froelich, "The Equivocal Status of 'Bonurn
Commune,"' New Scholasticism 63 (Winter 1989): 38-57.
94 "Bonum multitudinis est maius quam bonum unius qui est de multitudine" (STh II-II, q.
39, a. 3, ad 2) is a typical version of this principle. For discussions of this controversial
principle see Jamie Velez-Saenz, The Doctrine of the Common Good of Civil Society in the
Works of St. Thomas Aquinas (Ph.D. diss., University of Notre Dame, 1951): 67-92; I. Th.
Eshrnann, "A Thomistic Glossary on the Principle of the Preeminence of the Common Good,"
Medieval Studies 5 (1943): 123-65; Charles De Koninck, "In Defence of St. Thomas: A Reply
to Father Eschmann's Attack on the Primacy of the Common Good," Laval theologique et

THE NECESSITIES OF LIFE

95

The common good of the city is not just the sum of the goods
of the individuals who live in the city, but rather it is the good
proper to the city as city.95 For Aquinas, the city is the perfect
community so far as it satisfies all the necessities of life. Yet the
city can secure and maintain its self-sufficiency only so far as it has
a proper order (i.e., peace). 96 The city attains its due order so far
as it is ordered to the proper advantage of its members. But this
proper order requires that the parts of the city (i.e., the
individuals and communities within the city) be harmoniously
ordered with relation to one another and the city. Hence, the
ends that individuals pursue must be determined relative to the
ends of the city in such a way that the ends pursued by individuals
are conducive to preserving the order and harmony of the city.
That is, an individual's determination of what he or she needs in
order to pursue particular ends is embedded in the political
context of what is required to maintain the proper order of the
city or community in which the individual lives. This latter
determination is not properly made by individuals as such-who
look to their own private good-but by the ruler of the
community who is charged with caring for the common good. 97
Aquinas gives a vivid articulation of the responsibility of the ruler
in this matter when he discusses the duties of the ruler who is able
to found a city. As God providentially provides all that is needed
for each species,
the founder of the city or kingdom must mark out the chosen place according to
the exigencies of things necessary for the perfection of the city and kingdom ..

philosophique 1 (1945): 3-103; and Michael A. Smith, Human Dignity and the Common
Good in the Aristotelian-Thomistic Tradition (Lewiston, N.Y.: Edwin Mellen Press, 1995): 83121. The books by Velez-Saenz and Smith provide bibliographies listing other studies relating
to the general notion of the common good in Aquinas's thought.
95 For a general discussion of the nature of a social community, its good , and its relation
to the individuals who are its members, see Velez-Saenz, Doctrine of the Common Good of
Civil Society, 3-33. See also Michael A Smith, "Common Advantage and Common Good,"
Laval theologique et philosophique 51(1995):111-25.
96 IV Sent., d. 49, q. 1, a. 2, sol.4; ScG III, c. 146; III Ethic., lect. 8.
97 I De Regim. Prine., cc. 1 and 2. This argument provides the basis for the view that
monarchy is the best form of government.

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.. Indeed, he must provide for each one what is necessary for his particular
condition and state in life; otherwise, the kingdom or city could never endure. 98

Conversely, individuals should determine what they need
according to their condition or stateo So, in reciting the fourth
petition of the Lord's prayer and in following the injunction of 1
Timothy 6:9, individuals do not beg for "daily bread" in an
unqualified sense, nor are they expected to be content with food
and clothing without qualificationo In asking that we be given our
"daily bread," we are requesting all the temporal things necessary
for us, and we should ask for these things and be content with
them according to our social condition and stateo99
Moreover, individuals cannot determine what they need
through a strictly rational analysis, since the social order in which
people live is formatively shaped by custom and, therefore, it has
a fundamentally conventional character to ito It is precisely in this
regard that the earlier sense in which people are said to need
something-either in regard to their existence or perfection
(which seems specified by nature) or to some specific end
proposed by the will-becomes blurred, since what individuals
need is determined, in part at least, by their locus in a social order
which is, in part, conventionally determined by customo
It is not possible in this paper to provide a complete exegetical
or conceptual analysis of Aquinas's conception of custom. For the
present, the following will suffice: custom arises through
collectively repeated actions (whether deliberate or not) that take
on the character of a "habit" or second nature. 10° Customs are
98 "Deinde necesse est ut locum electum institutor civitaris aut regni distinguat secundum
exigentiam eornrn quae perfectio civitatis aut regni requirit .... demum vero providendum
est ut singulis necessaria suppetant secundum uniuscuiusque constitutionem et statum: aliter
enim nequaquam posset regnum vel civitas commanere" (I De Regim. Prine., c. 14).
99 In orationem Dominican 4 and Quodl. 10, q. 6, a. 3, ad 2. I am convinced, although
Aquinas never explicitly adopts this view, that the injunction to individuals to determine what
they need according to their condition and state is imposed not just for the moral well-being
of the individuals but also for the sake of maintaining the proper order of the community in
which individuals live.
100 See STh HI, q. 63, a. 4, ad2; HI, q. 32, a. 2, ad 3; l-H, q. 58, a. 1. This view compares
interestingly with Berger and Luckrnann's conception of institutions as collectively produced
routinized typifications which easily become reified-a second nature: "this is how things are
done," not
is how we do things" (Social Construction of Reality [Garden City, N.Y.:

THE NECESSITIESOF LIFE

97

subjected to the rule of reason and they cannot licitly abrogate
divine or natural law. 101 Nevertheless, people are bound to live
according to the lawful customs of society in which they live.102
So, in responding to what counts as moderation in clothing,
Aquinas approvingly cites Augustine: "Those offenses, which are
contrary to the customs of people, are to be avoided according to
the customs generally prevailing, so that a thing agreed upon and
confirmed by the custom or law of any city or nation may not be
violated at the lawless pleasure of anyone whether citizen or
foreigner. For any part is offensive which does not harmonize
with its whole. " 103
More important for my purposes, Aquinas recognizes that one
group can have customs that are incompatible with the customs of
another group even though both sets of custom are consistent
with reason and both are binding on people subjected to them.
The result is that a person is required to perform actions in one
community that should be avoided in another community.
Consider the following solution to the question of whether the
Eucharist may be celebrated with leavened or unleavened bread.
Two things may be considered touching the matter of this sacrament, namely,
what is necessary and what is fitting. It is necessary that the bread be wheaten,
without which the sacrament is not perfected. However, it is not necessary for
the sacrament that the bread is unleavened or leavened, since it can be celebrated
with either .... But it is suitable [conveniens] that every priest observe the rite
of his church in the celebration of the sacrament. Now in this matter there are
various customs of the churches .... Hence, as a priest sins by celebrating with
leavened bread in the Latin church, so a Greek priest celebrating with
unleavened bread in a church of the Greeks would also sin by perverting the rite
of his church. 104
Doubleday & Co., 1967], 53-67).
101 STh1-11, q. 97, a. 3, ad 1; 11-11, q. 100, a. 2 and ad 4; II-II, q. 154, a. 9, ad 3; Quodl.
2, q. 4, a. 3.
102 STh I-II, q. 97, a. 3, II-II, q. 77, a. 2, ad 2.
103 "quae contra mores hominum sunt flagiria, pro morum diversitate vitanda sunt, ut
pactum inter se civitaris et genris consuetudine vel lege firmatum, nulla civis aut peregrini
libidine violetur. turpis enim est omnis pars universo suo non congruens" (STh II-II, q. 169,
a. 1). Augustine's text is from Confessiones 3.8.
104 "Circa materiam huius sacramenri duo possunt considerari, sc.-ilicetquid sit necessarium,
et quid conveniens. Necessarium quidem est ut sit panis tririceus ... sine quo non perficitur
sacramentum. Non est autem de necessitate sacramenri quod sit azymus vel fermentatus, quia

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In this text, the necessary and the fitting are contrasted with
regard to the matter (that is, the bread) of the Eucharist. It is
necessary A for the priest to use wheat bread in celebrating the
Eucharist, but only fitting (necessary 8 ?) for the priest to use
leavened or unleavened bread . However, since a priest sins if he
does not use the type of bread that is required by the custom of
his church, it is dear that it is necessary that the priest celebrate
the Eucharist with the bread required by his tradition in order to
avoid sin. 105 Even though the injunction to obey the customs of
one's society is not absolute if those customs run counter to
natural or divine law, the injunction appears to be licit prima
facie, and it does not seem to be justifiably overridden because of
the preferences or desires of individuals. In any event, though,
people cannot and ought not avoid referring to the social group
in which they live in order to determine what they need.
The question of what people need can be raised in regard to
any particular end that people pursue both in regard to merely
attaining the end and to attaining it well or perfectly. But the
various ends people pursue must be ordered to the final end of
human life, which is our beatitude-the perfect knowledge and
love of God in the next life. While beatitude transcends any
natural happiness, the latter is found only within the city. Hence,
the assessments of what people need to attain particular ends or
even personal happiness is embedded in a political context in
which the ends that people pursue ought be ordered to the
common good and the peace of the city, since it is only within the
city that people attain any complete natural happiness. So far as
political and social life is legitimately determined by custom and
so far as people are bound to follow the customs of their society,
human needs are conventional in the sense that what people need
in utroque confici potest. Conveniens autem est ut unusquisque servet ritum suae ecclesiae in
celebratione sacramenti. Super hoc autem sum diversae ecdesiarum consuetudines .... Uncle,
sicut peccat sacerdos in ecdesia larinomrn celebrans de pane fermentato, ita peccaret presbyter
graecus in ecclesia graecorum celebrans de azymo pane, quasi pervertens ecclesiae suae ritum"
(STh Ill, q. 74, a. 4).
ws Indeed, although Aquinas regards the use of unleavened bread to be more reasonable
than the use of leavened bread, he still holds that it is sinful for a priest in the Greek church
to celebrate the Eucharist with unleavened bread since he "would pervert the rite of his
Church."

THE NECESSITIESOF LIFE

99

is shaped by social and institutional roles and the conventions that
determine those institutions and roles.

The Thomist 66 (2002): 101-32

NATURAL OBLIGATION: HOW RATIONALLY KNOWN
TRUTH DETERMINES ETHICAL GOOD AND EVIL
JOHN C. CAHALAN
Methuen, Massachusetts

RISTOTLE, THE MEDIEVALS, and Hume, in their own ways,

held that the "good" is that which is desired or desirable in
ome manner. Hume concluded that reason cannot dictate
to desires about values since desires determine what things are
values and what are not. When reason makes value judgments, it
is a "slave" of desire; it only reports what desires do. Hume was,
in effect, saying that his predecessors had not gone far enough in
drawing out the implications of the fact that "good" means that
which is desired. But some of Hume's Scholastic predecessors had
seen more of those implications than he did. In fact, they had seen
enough to provide the basis for a reply to Hume about how
reason prescribes to desire. I will try to make that reply explicit.
To paraphrase Aristotle and Hume, calling something "good"
presupposes an inclination (a desire or a choice) toward some
goal. Inclinations toward goals, in turn, presuppose dispositions
for those inclinations (appetites). If there is a specifically moral
kind of goodness, calling something morally good or evil must
reflect an inclination toward some specific kind of goal whose
achievement is what we mean by "moral" good, an inclination of
which we are capable because we have dispositions to be inclined
to that achievement. I hope to show that insufficient attention to
the nature of that goal is what generates reason/appetite, is/ought,
fact/value and deontology/teleology problems in ethics.
The implicit reply to Hume that I will explicate bases ethics on
a "natural inclination" to the goal of acting "in accord with
101

JOHN C. CAHALAN

102

reason. " 1 I will argue that we necessarily have that goal and that
"accord with reason" means accord with premoral knowledge of
what things, especially persons, are. Hume failed to see that
rational beings must have that goal. That goal implies that love of
persons for their own sake (traditionally called "love of
friendship") has priority over love of other goods ("love of
concupiscence"), and that the duty to love persons, human or
divine, for their own sake is both self-evident and ethically
primary. 2 But if "accord with reason" refers, as it often seems to
do, to value judgments reason makes by the standard of some goal
other than accord with knowledge of what things are, the other
goal would be a good (for example, happiness, pleasure, or even
contemplation or virtue) other than persons as such, and the duty
to love persons for their own sake would be neither primary nor
self-evident but derived from the duty to will that other good.
I

What is the nature of moral obligation, or the nature of the
good and evil that are specifically moral, rather than aesthetic,
medical, economic, etc.?
Assume that by a printing error a mountain ranger's manual
says that physical action X will prevent an avalanche, when in fact
X will cause an avalanche. A ranger believes the manual and
inculpably uses that belief in choosing to perform X. Lives are
lost. Here there is evil but no moral evil. Now someone
deliberately performs X with the intention of killing innocent
victims. There is moral evil, but what is it? Whatever the nature
of that evil is, it characterizes the internal act of choosing. It
consists neither of the physical motions performed nor of the
accumulation of external goods and evils in their results, because
these can be the same in both cases. If it consists of a relation
between the choice and results external to the choice, that relation
is a property of the choice, not the results.
1

Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae I-II, q. 94, a. 3.

100, a. 3, ad 1),
although standard accounts of acting "in accord with reason" cannot explain them.
2 This primacy and self-evidence are explicit in Aquinas (STh I-II, q.

NATIJRAL OBLIGATION

103

When we judge choices to be morally good or bad, we imply
a standard by which choices are to be judged. A standard expresses a goal, a finality, to be achieved by whatever is being
judged by the standard. If the goal is achieved, the thing is good;
if not, the thing is bad. Hence in judging a choice to be morally
good or bad, we are judging it by whether or not it achieves some
goal that we are holding it to. In calling a choice bad, we are
saying that something is lacking in the behavior of choosing that
"should" be there, that "ought" to be there, where "should" and
"ought" are defined by the goal by which we are measuring the
choice. Whatever that goal is, the achievement of it constitutes
moral good and the failure to achieve it moral evil.
Further, we apply the standards we call "moral" to choices
based on relevant rational knowledge, not choices based on
inculpable ignorance. Choices can have many kinds of defects. I
might invest unwisely, where "unwisely" refers to a defect caused
by ignorance of financial conditions. But we only hold morally
responsible those who have enough relevant rational knowledge.
If we are obligated to obtain knowledge before we act, that
obligation depends on our having enough previous knowledge.
Acts that are the objects of moral choice are not just physical
movements but acts of seeking this end by these means in these
circumstances with rational knowledge of what these things, and
the things to which choosing the act relates us, are.
Rational "knowledge" here means rational awareness,
awareness at the level of reason rather than that of sensation,
imagination, or memory. 3 The medievals called the disposition
enabling us to make reason-based choices the "rational" appetite
or the "will." They thought that these names designated a single
power identifiable as such and distinguishable from other powers.
That may indeed be true, but nothing I say here will depend on its
being true. It is much more convenient, however, to refer to what
3 I am not opposing rational "knowledge" to "justified belief." Belief is the kind of
awareness presupposed when we apply moral standards to choices. Choices based on false
beliefs can be morally good. But for simplicity what follows will assume, unless I indicate
otherwise, that we are talking about choices made on the basis of beliefs that are both true and
justifiably believed.

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enables us to make reason-based choices as a rational appetite
than as the disposition(s) enabling us to make reason-based
choices. If there is such a thing as moral value, it must correspond
to a specific kind of orientation to achievement resulting from our
having a disposition or set of dispositions describable, even if
collectively, as a rational appetite, since the achievement in
question is a quality of reason-based choices. It is we who would
be oriented to that goal because we have a rational appetite, not
the appetite itself that has that goal, just as it is we who are
oriented to seeing by means of the sense of sight, not the sense of
sight alone that is oriented to seeing. But if we keep that fact in
mind, it will be more convenient to speak of "the goal of the
rational appetite" than "the goal to which we are oriented by
means of the rational appetite."
II

Solving Hume's problem about the relation of reason to desire
takes more than dubbing some appetite "rational." We need to
know what goal choices based on rational knowledge have, such
that success or failure in achieving that goal makes choices
morally good or evil, respectively.
Diverse ethical systems state the conditions for moral value
differently. However, all ethical systems agree that at least in
certain cases the moral value of a choice is determined by the
accumulation of "good" or "bad" consequences external to the
choice. Since these consequences are external to the seat of specifically moral value, they must be good or bad in a sense that is not
directly moral. Rather, moral good and evil derive from this prior
good and evil. Even ethical systems that hold some choices to be
intrinsically morally good or bad regardless of consequences grant
that the moral value of other choices depends on consequences
external to the choices. So all ethical systems sometimes apply
criteria of morality that are (officially) the only criteria for
utilitarian, consequentialist, or proportionalist systems.

NATURAL OBLIGATION

105

When an ethical system applies such criteria, it is holding
reason-based choices to the goal of conforming to rationally
known truths about values (that is, about human ends and the
means of achieving them), values that are not themselves moral.
For example, Al is wrong to play loud music at 4 A.M., if other
people are kept awake. Al may achieve more of his ends, but the
total amount of human ends achieved is decreased; for sleep is
more important for the achievement of further human ends than
is loud music. Even utilitarianism and its cousins measure reasonbased choices by the goal of conforming to rationally known
truths about nonmoral values. For most utilitarians, morality is
specified by the total accumulation of fulfilled human ends, not a
human individual's, or a subset of individuals', accumulation of
ends. Presumably this is because reason tells them that, since the
inclinations to ends that exist in human beings are the measures
of value, a greater accumulation of fulfilled human ends is of
more value than a lesser accumulation. If reason did not tell them
this, they might as well believe that a lesser accumulation of
fulfilled ends is of more value.
Utilitarianism also defines "ought" in terms of the greatest
accumulation of fulfilled human ends because its goal is an ethics
that conforms to what reason knows about values. Any ethics is
undertaken in the belief that we know truths about values and in
pursuit of the goal of conforming to what we know about values.
Hume, for example, wrote book 3 of the Treatise in pursuit of an
ethics consistent with what he thought reason had informed him
about values (namely, that values do not derive from reason) in
book 2. And most ethicists today hold that a necessary condition
for the success of an ethics is conformity to that same alleged
piece (as well as other alleged pieces) of rational knowledge.
Do our choices necessarily have the goal of moral goodness as
defined by conformity to reason's knowledge of values? Or does
that definition state a condition that needs to be satisfied only if
we happen to choose the goal of being moral? If the latter,
nothing reason could tell us would make a choice that puts our

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JOHN C. CAHALAN

interests ahead of the totality of the interests of
persons
necessarily defective.
To see how it is possible that choices necessarily have the goal
of conforming to what reason knows about values, consider
another aspect of our conscious life, belief. We use the word
"belief" for a state that happens to include a relation to a goal
(namely, truth), such that if a belief does not attain that goal, the
belief is intrinsically defective, that is, defective by the standard of
a finality that is part of what it is. A false belief may have relations
to other goals by reason of which it is not defective. The mere
existence of a belief, true or false, is an achievement relative to
our prior disposition to form beliefs. But whatever goals of other
kinds beliefs may have, a false belief is necessarily defective in at
least one respect, because beliefs happen to be states with the
conscious goal of truth.
Could reason-based choices similarly have, as part of what they
are, the intrinsic goal of conforming to what reason knows about
values? The answer seems to depend on answering a prior
question, namely, what does it mean to "conform to" what reason
knows about values. This is no more easy to answer than the
question of what is the conformity of true belief to what things
are. And the latter has, like all philosophy's questions, proven
extremely difficult to answer. To see the parallel between a
belief's conformity to what things are and a choice's, however, we
need only a minimal account of what "conformity" requires.
That a true belief conforms to what things are means, at least,
that for the belief to be false things would have not to be what
they are in some specifiable way or ways. Likewise, for a false
belief to be true, things would have not to be what they are in
some way. For example, "Grass is green" would be false and
"Grass is red" true if grass were red.
To say that a choice must conform to rational knowledge is to
say that for a morally bad choice not to be bad, some truth known
by reason about values would have to be false. But for a truth
about values to be false, things would have not to be what they
are; for truths about human ends and means are just a subset of

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truths about what things are. So for a morally bad choice to be
morally good, or vice versa, things would have to not be what
they are in certain ways (ways to be described in what follows).
If reason-based choices, then, have the goal of conforming to
what reason knows about values, what makes a choice morally
good is that it consciously relates to things as if they are what they
are, as inculpably believed by reason, while a bad choice relates to
things as if they are not what they are. The level of generality
represented by "truths about what things are" would have made
it unclear to start the explanation of the rational appetite there,
rather than at the level of "truths about values." How could the
rational appetite produce a choice not in conformity with a truth
like "Water is wet"? We can make defective choices based on
ignorance of such truths, but that kind of defect is not moral, if
the ignorance is inculpable. So most truths are not related to
choices in a way that enables us knowingly to choose as if they
were not true. But some truths (in other words, some facts),
especially truths about what persons, human or divine, are, are
thus related to choices and necessarily so.
Any desire or any affective state that is based on cognition has
for its object what something is, where "something" can be an
entity, event, state of affairs, action, experience, or anything else
that might count as a possible existent. To a great extent, a theory
of value can be neutral toward specific ontologies, but it cannot
be neutral toward ontology in general. Whatever acquires the
designation "value" does so because it is desired. Desires,
however, are desires-for some (at least putatively) possible reality.
The reason desires must have a possible reality as their object is
the same as the reason sometimes given why metaphysics talks
about being: there is nothing else to talk about. Likewise, there is
nothing else to desire than what some possible reality is.
The result of a desire is that something has a status in our
system of values that it would not have otherwise. Because of the
way we desire things, some things are higher values for us than
others. We desire what they are more than we desire what other
things are. And we value some things as ends and other things as

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means whose value derives from ends. Inasmuch as desires make
what things are values for us, we can call desires "evaluations" of
what things are, evaluations of what things are as being more or
less of that to which, or a means to that to which, the appetite
producing the desire is oriented.
Likewise, the result of a reason-based choice is that something
is given the status of an end or a means to an end for us. To be
given such a status is to be assigned a value; to be assigned a value
is to be evaluated. So choices are evaluations of what things are.
And any time a choice is required potential values are in
opposition; if not, we would not have to make a choice between
them. So choices are evaluations of things that give them differing
places in our value system (not our system of beliefs about what
our values ought to be, but the system of values that in fact
motivate our actions). Any choice evaluates what something is to
be more of a value than what something else is.
Also, if we are disposed to produce a desire for X when we do
not have X, we are disposed to produce a state of satisfaction in
X when we have X. So a desire for something evaluates it to be a
certain kind of thing, the kind of thing by which the appetite will
be at least partially satisfied. Since desires evaluate what things are
to be that to which, or means to that to which, an appetite is
oriented, desires cannot avoid relating to things as if things are
this or that. Evaluations must evaluate things to be this or that, as
beliefs judge things to be this or that. 4 If the thing so evaluated is
not that kind of thing, the evaluation is defective by the standard
of the appetite's goal. For example, disease, tiredness, drugs,
excessive heat or cold, etc., can make us misevaluate an
experience presented by a memory or an image to be the kind of
experience that will please a sensory appetite.
But even if sensory desires could not be defective, reason-based
choices can be. In the case of chosen (desired) acts, both the object
of choice-an act of seeking this end in this situation by this
means, knowing what these things are-and the choice (the
4 In classical terminology, the transcendental good is like the transcendental truth in its
convertiblity with what it is that exists; what is good about a thing is what it is: this or that.

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desire) can be good or bad by the rational appetite's standard. A
good choice is a choice of a good act, that is, an act by which we
consciously relate to things as if they are what they are known to
be and so fulfill the rational appetite's orientation. Fulfilling the
rational appetite's orientation contributes to happiness, but what
makes a choice good is not that it causes happiness or satisfaction
of desire. What makes a thing good (desired) are those aspects of
it for which it is desired, not its being desired; if not, then
circularly, that for which it is desired, and so called "good,"
would be the fact that it is desired. Value is not subjective; desire
is a response to what a thing is. Being desired is exterior to a
thing; what is good (desired) about it is interior to it. 5
Moral value is "objective,"' that is, determined by what things
are, in two, more specific ways. First, acts chosen by the rational
appetite are called "good" because they fulfill the appetite's
orientation to choices that consciously relate us to things as being
what they are" So a chosen act is good, not just because of what it
is, which holds for the object of any appetite, but because
choosing it relates us to things other than the act itself as being
what they are. Second, conforming to reason is the natural goal of
the rational appetite's acts, so their success or failure in attaining
this goal makes what they are good or bad necessarily and
intrinsically, not just hypothetically due to our wish to hold them
to that standard. (For the rational appetite deontology is
teleology, and vice versa.) Likewise, success or failure in attaining
the goal of truth necessarily makes what a belief is good or bad,
since the goal of truth is a standard intrinsic to an act of belief. So
moral value is objective in every relevant sense"
I will now show, first, that in giving things different positions
in our system of values, choices achieve or fail to achieve
goal
of conforming to what things are as
reason,
second,
that acts of the rational appetite necessarily have that goat I
focus on two fundamental moral claims, that we should love God
above all things and our neighbors as ourselves.
1 The end chosen by the rational appetite can be the satisfaction or pleasure caused by
achieving the end of another appetite.

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III

If we believe that God is an infinitely perfect being, our choices
"should" give him the place, in our system of values, of being the
absolutely highest value, the value to which all other values must
be subordinate, where "should" is defined by the rational
appetite's goal. Since desires value what things are, the infinitely
perfect being possesses everything that the desires of any possible
appetite could value, everything any possible desire could be a
response to. If failing to give the infinitely perfect being the place
of our highest value does not violate the rational appetite's goal,
one of these truths is not true: the infinitely perfect being is what
he is; or, the objects of desire and choice are what things are.
Again, any choice assigns something a comparative place in our
values higher than something else. If we are tempted to choose
acts like blasphemy, lying under oath, offering incense to idols,
etc., we are being tempted so to choose that we give God the
status, in our system of values, of being less than the highest and
ruling value. In so doing we would be evaluating the infinite being
as if there was something greater than it in respect to what the
rational appetite is oriented to value: being as known by reason.
It is inconsistent with rationally known truth to place a higher
value on what anything else is than on what God is, because
reason knows that God has as much of what the rational appetite
is oriented to value as anything else can have plus infinitely more. 6
An appetite with the goal of conforming to rationally known
truths about what things are has the goal of evaluating things to
be what they are, which amounts to having the goal of giving
things the value of being what they are. To fail to choose in
conformity with reason's knowledge of X is to fail to give X the
value of being what it is. What X is in our values should, by the
6 I will argue in section IV that if we put our interests ahead of another person's, we are
really valuing what we are more highly than what the other person is. Likewise, in denying
God the highest value, we would really be giving it to ourselves. This is inconsistent with
reason's knowledge. Reason knows the comparative places of the infinite and the finite in
being. If the rational appetite's goal is to give things the value of being what they are as known
by reason, the comparative places of the infinite and the finite in our values should be the
same as their comparative places in being.

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rational appetite's standard, be the same as what X is in reality.
Someone who loves God above all things is giving him the value
of being what he is: the possessor of everything that any appetite
can desire. If a choice so evaluates God that his place in our
system of values is other than that of the highest and ruling value,
the choice does not conform to what he is and so is defective;
what God is in our values is inconsistent with what he really is.
The example of God shows how choices can fail to conform to
what things are. Reason's goal is awareness of what things are,
and our dispositions for choosing are dispositions for choosing on
the basis of rational knowledge. So in comparatively evaluating
things, choices cannot avoid relating to things as if the way they
are evaluated is the way they really are. Wherever a choice can fail
to conform to knowledge about what things are, an exercise of
our dispositions to make reason-based choices is defective if it
fails to conform to that knowledge and so treats things as if they
are not what they are known to be.
Given the options for choice that happen to be open to us,
certain things are so related to what we are and to what the ends
we can choose are that we cannot avoid either giving them or
failing to give them a value that conforms to what they are. Which
beliefs these are may not be identifiable in advance. The beliefs
that are so related to our choices depend on our circum-stances,
not just on the finality of the rational appetite. If only God and
myself existed, or if other people existed but my choices never
related me to them, I could not comparatively evaluate other
human beings and myself in ways that either conform or fail to
conform to what we are. But though the possibility of valuing a
hat, for example, to be other than what it is may not be open to
me,7 I cannot avoid situations where it is possible so to evaluate
persons, human or divine. There are times when I cannot avoid
choosing consciously to act toward persons as if they are what
they are or as if they are not what they are.

'Rut what if I worship a hat as an idol?

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IV

I will now argue that choices achieve or fail to achieve the
hypothesized goal of conforming to what things are with
reference to the second basic moral claim, that we should love
other human beings as ourselves.
All ethical systems at times make moral judgments by
calculating consequences external to choices. Conversely, all
ethical systems, even utilitarianism and its relatives, make some
moral judgments preceding the judgments that come from
calculating consequences. Prior to any calculation we must choose
whose interests should be included in the calculation and whether
or not their interests should be counted equally. Calculation
cannot begin until these choices (as well as other choices) are
made. Since these are choices about how we should calculate,
utilitarians presuppose moral choices not made by calculating
consequences external to the choices. 8 Most utilitarians hold, for
example, that we should count the interests of all human beings
equally. But whom should we count as human beings: fetuses,
children, the irreversibly insane or comatose? And not all
utilitarians would agree that we should count human beings'
interests equally. For example, should we provide for the interests
of those who cannot defend their own interests before calculating
how a choice affects everyone else? So even utilitarianism and its
relatives make those moral issues which are settled by calculating
subordinate to those issues settled before calculating.
In unwitting agreement with most ethical systems, utilitarianism and its relatives imply that the evil in a choice to gain goods
for ourselves at the expense of the greatest good of the greatest
number really consists of being unjust to others. We do not give
others' interests the place due them, relative to ours, in our
values, and so we do not treat other persons in a manner that is
due them. If justice is an end by which we measure moral value,
can the rational appetite's goal explain justice, that is, explain
what it is for something to be "due" someone?
8 Note that if all moral judgments are calculations of consequences, each person has, at
most, the value of being a means to the accumulation of other goods for the species.

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Suppose that I am competing with someone on a test to decide
which of us gets a job and that our reasons for wanting the job do
not make it more important for me to be hired (for example, I do
not have a special need, such as a sick child who will not get
medical care if I am not hired). Why is it wrong for me to cheat
on the test to ensure that I get the job?
In choosing to cheat, I am not giving the other person's
interests a value equal to mine; for I am not giving him an equal
opportunity to attain the end we both seek. Why is it wrong to
value our interests unequally? Both my child and my rose bush
need food to live, but I do not consider the interests of a plant
equal to those of a child. Neither the need for food nor the desire
for a job exists in abstraction; each exists as a feature of a concrete
entity. I do not consider the interests of a plant to be equal to
those of a child because I do not give that concrete entity, the
plant, a place in my values equal to that of the childo If my choices
treated features, like the need for food or the desire for a job, as
anything other than features of the concrete entities they belong
to, my choices would be defective by the standard of the rational
appetite's goal of conforming to reason's knowledge. Reason
knows that only concrete entities, not their features in abstraction
from the entities, exist. To give the interests of an.other person a
value equal to mine is to treat the other person as in some sense
equal to me.
The goal that measures morality is not equality but valuing
things to be what they are" Unequal evaluation is a way to violate
that goal: If two
are the same in respect X,
I do not
value
to be the same in that respect, what they are in my
values cannot be what they are reality" But people are unequal
in many ways; when we so value
are we not valuing them
as if they are what they are? Since reason can know
aspects of
things, there might seem to be no link between the rational
appetite and any specific aspect of thingso Unless there is a specific
feature or features of things that obligates by being what it is, the
only obligation the rational appetite's finality could impose would
be to evaluate
by degrees of being" If reason

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that dogs are higher on the scale of being than plants, why would
I not be obligated to sacrifice my rose bush rather than my dog,
if I have to choose between them?
In fact, there is a feature of things necessarily linked to the
rational appetite's goal with respect to which, if I put my interests
ahead of another person's, I necessarily violate the rational
appetite's goal. First, since we are in a conflict of interests, I must
give myself a higher status as a pursuerof ends. To give my pursuit
of ends a higher place in my values is the same as giving myself a
higher place as a pursuer of ends. The recipients of the
evaluations are concrete entities insofar as they are the agents and
subjects of conflicting interests. The comparative positioning does
not stop at our desires because reason is aware of the desires as
emanating from and belonging to the other person and myself. In
valuing myself to be higher as a pursuer of ends, I am valuing
myself to be higher as being a maker of reason-based choices.
But, second, while most human adults are alike in having some
rational knowledge, the knowledge on which our choices are
based is not equal. Does the mere fact that another person has
some rational knowledge determine whether a choice to cheat him
conforms to what things are? Yes, because of a feature all rational
pursuers of ends share that, due to the way it is linked to the
rational appetite's goal, obligates the rational appetite by being
what it is. The rational appetite necessarily orients us to the goal
of making evaluations by freely choosing our own ends.
At issue in the finality of the rational appetite is not the degree
of our rational knowledge but our orientation to use whatever
knowledge we have to pursue ends that are our own because we
choose them freely. We can evaluate our diversities only by freely
choosing some end as the standard for evaluating. So the basis of
any unequal evaluation is a prior sameness that is more
fundamental than our diversity by the standard of a goal prior to
the end by which we evaluate our diversity, the goal of making
free choices of the ends that give value to acts like evaluating
differences. Suppose a person commits murder but then kills
himself; he has failed to treat his victim equally in the respect that

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115

enables us to make any evaluation at all and determines the value
of all subsequent evaluations. In a conflict of interests, we cannot
avoid treating ourselves and others as equal or unequal with
respect to being free choosers of ends, since that is the point of
conflict.
But inequality is not the most precise reason why putting our
interests ahead of others' misevaluates free beings; we are valuing
them as if they are not what they are because we are valuing them
as if they are not ends-in-themselves. 9 The only function of
choices is to give, or to refuse to give, things the value of being
our ends or means to our ends. We can evaluate other persons by
whether they contribute to, frustrate, or are indifferent to our
ends. If so, we are evaluating them as, and so giving them the
value of being, means to our ends. Since we freely determine our
own ends, we can evaluate everything else only by reference to
our chosen ends. How is it possible, then, to relate to other
persons in any way other than valuing them as means to our ends?
We can choose the end of treating other persons as things that,
like ourselves but unlike nonpersons, pursue their good by
directing their action to freely chosen ends. Thus, we can choose
our ends in a way that gives other people the status in our values
of things whose action is directed to their own freely chosen ends
or to our ends as opposed to theirs. If the former, we are
evaluating them as ends-in-themselves, things whose action is for
the sake of ends of their own choosing, not our ends to the
exclusion of theirs.
Since reason knows that other persons freely determine the
ends to which their action is directed, 10 our choices cannot avoid
Aquinas, ScG HI, c. 112; also, STh I, q. 22, a. 2 ad 3; H-U, q. I, a. 2; H-II, q. 25, a. 3.
If the rational appetite had a concrete mode of being, such as a kind of sensory
experience, as its ultimate end, it would desire that end, and so hierarchically evaluate
everything else by reference to it, necessarily. With the exception of a being whose infinite
perfection would exhaust the idea of being, the rational appetite does not have such a concrete
end. For that reason the rational appetite is necessarily oriented to making free choices of
whatever concrete ends we will actually pursue. (See Yves R. Simon, Traite du fibre arbitre
[Liege: Sciences et Lettres, 1951]; Eng. trans., Freedom of Choice, trans. Peter Wolff [New
York: Fordham University Press, 1969]; John C. Cahalan, "Making Something Out of
Nihilation," in Jacques Maritain: The Man and His Metaphysics, ed. John F. X. Knasas
9

10

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JOHN C. CAHALAN

either being or not being in accord with reason with respect to
other persons being pursuers of ends that they determine for
themselves. When we choose the end of treating a person as
something whose action is directed to ends he gives himself, what
he is in our evaluations is what he is in reality. When we value
him only as a positive, negative, or indifferent means to our ends,
what he is in our evaluations contradicts what he is in reality. In
our evaluations he is something whose action is directed to our
ends to the exclusion of also being directed to ends he gives
himself.
To evaluate the actions of another person as not being for the
sake of ends set by that person is intrinsically defective-just as is
the belief that persons do not set their own ends-by the standard
of the rational appetite's goal. Valuing another person as someone
who sets the ends of his actions, however, fulfills the rational
appetite's goal; we value him as if he is what he is. Although we
can evaluate things only by reference to our own chosen ends, one
of the ends we can choose is the end of being moral by fulfilling
the rational appetite's goal. 11 We choose the end of being moral
when we choose to treat other persons as being what we know
them to be, determiners of the ends to which their action is
directed.
In my evaluations, it is not only a person's actions but also his
existence that either are or are not for the sake of his own ends.
I cannot place a value on his orientation to pursue ends in
abstraction from placing a value on him; the way I value his
orientation to ends is the way I value him. When I give his
interests a status equal to mine, he has the place in my values of
someone "worthy," by the standard of the goal of the appetite
doing the evaluating, to pursue his own freely chosen ends. When
[American Maritain Association, 1988], 197-99.) But the rational appetite's necessary end,
infinite being, is necessary only because the rational appetite is ordered to valuing things
according to rational knowledge, which has being in its fulness as its object. So that which
gives the rational appetite freedom of choice is also what gives the rational appetite the goal
of freely evaluating things to be what they are, and vice versa.
11 "Goal" and "end" are synonyms. For clarity, I have most often used "goal" for what we
are oriented to prior to choice. That usage should not obscure the fact that moral value is
measured by the relation between the prior and posterior orientations.

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I give his interests a status subordinate to mine, the place his
actions, and hence he himself, has in my values is that of existing
to accomplish my ends as opposed to his. If so, the comparative
places that we have in my values are not the places that we have
in reality. Equality is not the core issue. To evaluate another
person as if he were not the same as I with respect to being the
determiner of his ends violates the rational appetite's goal because
it evaluates him as being other than he is.
Another way to put it is to note that the rational appetite
cannot avoid being oriented to evaluating things according to
rational knowledge specifically for the sake of freely making
things ends or means. Any appetite's acts evaluate things to be the
kind of thing, or a means to it, that the appetite is oriented to.
The rational appetite must have the goal of evaluating things
according to our knowledge of them concerning the rational
appetite's own orientation freely to make things ends or means.
So in setting our own ends, we cannot avoid giving other people
the place in our values of being oriented to the pursuit of their
own freely chosen ends or the pursuit of our ends to the exclusion
of theirs.
The fact that persons must evaluate other things by ends they
freely choose provides another important way to put it. Since the
value of other things must be measured by the freely chosen ends
of persons, to evaluate persons as being what they are, we must
evaluate them to be that for the sake of which every other value,
that is, everything else, exists. If I do not value a person as
something for the sake of which everything else exists, I am not
valuing him as being what he is. (I can also misevaluate myself as
if I were not something for the sake of which everything else
exists-see section VIII.)
It would be contradictory for the rational appetite's goal to
require us to will someone's achievement of ends chosen in
violation of that goal. To exist for the sake of our own ends is to
exist for the sake of achieving our good by our free choice of ends.
We do not choose ends in a vacuum but to fulfill goals we are
oriented to prior to making choices. Valuing a person as oriented

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to his own ends means willing his good as my own; if I am
indifferent to his good, I am evaluating his orientation to goods by
my ends to the exclusion of his. And prior to making choices we
are oriented to goals other than being moral, goals such as ·
contemplation and nutrition, that we must will for persons or fail
to evaluate persons as being what they are. If I know that reason,
which gives us free choice, also orients us to the goal of
contemplation, I cannot consistently value persons as oriented to
freely choose their own ends, unless I will that they achieve the
good of contemplation; I cannot value them to be things with one
orientation but not the other. And I must choose to ensure, if I am
able, that ends-in-themselves have enough food to achieve goods
that the rational appetite's goal requires them to achieve, if they
are able; otherwise, in my values they are not oriented to have
what they need to achieve their ends, and so not oriented to
achieving their ends.
To value someone as being what he is, I need not will his
achievement of goods that the rational appetite's finality does not
require him to seek What he is makes it intrinsically defective for
him not to freely choose ends in accord with reason; what he is
does not make it intrinsically defective for him to fail to achieve
a chosen end that is itself morally neutral. 12 But giving his pursuit
of such ends a place equal to mine in my values is required by the
goal of valuing persons to be free pursuers of ends. The rational
appetite's goal can also settle disputes about degrees of importance
in the pursuit of goods by what we need, as determined by what
we are prior to making a choice, to achieve morally required
goods. If Al's loud music at 4 A.M. deprives me of something that
human nature makes more necessary than music to achieve ends
that I am required to achieve, if I am able, he is not giving my
achievement of ends a place equal to his in his values, and so is
evaluating me by his ends to the exclusion of mine. 13
12

On moral neutrality, see section VIII.

13 Equality does not mean that I must refrain from using abilities superior

to another's if
we are seeking the same end. We do not pursue ends by choices alone; choices direct our
other abilities in the pursuit of ends. If the end we seek is itself morally neutral, and what we
are prior to making the choice does not cause a moral difference in the importance of our

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Finally, for finite things the rational appetite's goal of
conformity to what things are does not imply a scale of value
based directly on a scale of being. For the rational appetite to
value things as this or that is not to value them as animal,
vegetable, or mineral. It is to evaluate them with respect to
whether they are free choosers of ends, since freely making things
ends and means is what reason-based choices do. So our use of
nonfree beings should conform to knowledge, not of their place
on a scale of being, but of their relation to the ends of beings that
are ends-in-themselves; human nature makes water more necessary
for achieving our ends than dogs. 14

v
Morality does not exist by accident. If reason exists, an appetite
naturally oriented to freely valuing things as being what reason
knows them to be must exist also. And if an appetite has that
natural goal, its failure to achieve that goal is of necessity evil.
We cannot avoid using reason in directing our actions toward
ends. Our ideas of future ends pursued while we are rationally
aware, and of the means to achieve them, must be founded on our
knowledge of what things are that already exist. But our use of
reason is superfluous if the purpose is not to be guided by (and
therefore conformed to) what reason knows. Also, our satisfaction
in attained ends comes from rational awareness of what exists
when the ends exist. But appetites produce satisfaction in the
attainment of that to which they are oriented. Only an appetite

achieving it, evaluating us to be what we are as pursuers of ends requires equality in the
opportunity to use our other abilities, of any degree; for they belong to what we are. It would
be a failure to correctly evaluate us as pursuers of ends to evaluate our abilities to pursue them
as if what they are existed separately from what we are as choosers of ends.
14 The rational appetite's goal also rules out valuing animals, nonfree beings, as persons.
Disgust at physical suffering comes from an evolved disposition that is the same for human
and animal suffering. That disgust is aesthetic, not moral per se; if not, our disgust at animal
suffering would not be a correlative of our ability to find them "lovable," in an emotional
sense. But disgust at physical suffering is important for achieving human ends, so treating
animals in ways that risk weakening that disposition is not morally neutral.

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whose orientations are linked to the objects of rational awareness
will produce satisfaction as a result of that kind of awareness.
Also, if none of our appetites had the goal of conforming to
what we know by reason, either we would not make use of
reason's awareness of what things are in seeking ends, or if we did,
we could not achieve our ends except by accident, since only by
accident would our appetites move us to ends in a manner that
conforms to the object of rational knowledge, what things are.
Also, if we did not have an appetite oriented to valuing being
in the broadest sense, we would not have free choice; for all our
appetites would be for particular modes of being. The only desires
we would then have often come in conflict with rationally known
truths about values. So our desires would often necessitate our
behaving in ways contrary to the only nonarbitrary standard for
ethical value. For as we saw above, even utilitarianism must
measure ethical value by rationally known truths about what
things are, which is the one standard able to be nonarbitrary.
Also, since choices are able to relate to things as if they are not
what reason knows them to be, note how paradoxical it would
have been for nature (not to mention God) to give us both reason
and will and not give us the goal of willing things in conformity
with reason. Unless beings with reason were oriented to pursue
ends in accord with reason, evolution would not have selected
reason since reason would not have enhanced survival.
I will briefly state two more technical arguments. First, the fact
that "good" is a description of a thing by a being of reason which
states that the thing is a term of a relation of desire does not make
goodness subjective. Since goodness is not a real feature added to
those making a thing what it is, what is good (desired) about
something is not really distinct from, but is identical with, what it
is (a fact the post-Humean "naturalistic fallacy" fails to grasp). 15
15 Aquinas, STh I, q. 5, a. 1. These more technical arguments derive from principles of
Aquinas. For him, the rational appetite's acting "in accord with reason" cannot merely be
conforming to value judgments reason makes using as the standard some goal(s), X, other than
that of treating things as if they are what reason knows them to be. In his ethics, love of
friendship has priority over love of concupiscence (see David M. Gallagher, "Person and
Ethics in Aquinas," Acta Philosophica4 [199 5] 51-71; Janice L. Schultz, "Love of Friendship

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Moral good, then, requires that a specific kind of identity with
what things are be associated with a goal of our dispositions for
reason-based choices, moral good being a property of such
choiceso The "what something is" that is the good for the rational
appetite must be the same as a "what something is" that is a truth
known by reason; so evil in the rational appetite's act must be a
privation of what something is for reason being the same as what
the rational appetite desireso And the convertibility of the good
with being implies that love of friendship for persons has priority
over love of concupiscence for other thingso16
Second, the rational appetite evaluates things by causing the
intellect to make an ultimate practical judgment such as "Action
and Perfection of Finite Persons in Aquinas," in Medieval Masters, ed. R. E. Houser [Houston:
Center for Thomistic Studies, 1999] 209-32), and the obligations to love of friendship for
God and neighbor are primary and self-evident. Goal X would be other than valuing divine
and human persons to be what they are, and that is what love of friendship is. Since those
obligations and our knowledge of them would derive from love of concupiscence for goods
like happiness, contemplation, or the "basic human goods" of Grisez, Finnis, and Boyle, etc.,
they would be neither primary nor self-evident. The basic obligation must be to value divine
and human persons to be, in their own ways, things for the sake of which everything else
exists, as Aquinas knew them to be (see n. 9). We are not "obligated" to so choose that we
relate to things as if they are what they are in our values. We cannot avoid doing so. That is
why choices are intrinsically defective when what things are is not what they are in our values;
if such choices were not defective, the true and the good would not both be convertible with
being. What gives value to all possible ends is in God; free beings are ends-in-themselves, and
other beings are not. So choices that make things ends and means in our values cannot avoid
relating us to things as if they are or are not what they are. Since there is such a thing as divine
and human persons not being, in our chosen values, what they are in reality, why would
Aquinas need any other criterion to explain the moral evil of those choices? The moral
obligation to will X, as opposed to the natural inclination to X, must come from the natural
inclination to value persons, including ourselves, to be what they are, not vice versa.
16 Aquinas, STh I-H, q. 26, a. 4.These loves are not distinct acts; love of friendship wills
other goods for the friend. Love of friendship relates to ethics presented from the viewpoint
of goods loved by concupiscence, such as happiness, contemplation, or "the basic human
goods" thus: Love of friendship's duty to will, by love of concupiscence, the good for persons
does not tell us what that good is" But human nature makes it impossible to value human
beings as we are without willing, or declining to will, by love of concupiscence, many specific
goods for us. Goods loved by concupiscence provide content (matter) for acts for which love
of friendship provides the moral form, the form of being a moral duty: It is for the sake of
persons that we have the duty to will other goods. This fact is implied by, even if it is not the
same as, charity's being the form of the other virtues (STh m, q. 23, aa. 7 and 8); they provide
content for acts informed by charity, which is principally love of friendship.

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X is my good. " 17 The goal that measures the correctness of this
judgment is not speculative truth. X may accidentally cause my
death; if so, "X is my good" is speculatively false. Still that judgment may have practicaltruth, if it conforms to right desire (good
will). 18 But "rightness" of desire depends on what I inculpably
believe. If I believe X will cause my death, "X is my good" may
not conform to right desire. Since practical truth presupposes
rightness of desire, the beliefs on which rightness of desire
depends must be beliefs about what is speculatively true, especially
truths about the ends for which chosen acts are means. Rightness
of desire depends on conformity to the speculative truths of moral
knowledge,but moral knowledge must be awareness of conformity
to speculative knowledge. We have a vicious circle unless, in the
final analysis, what makes the desire that causes ultimate practical
judgments morally "right" is conformity to truths of speculative,
not practical, knowledge (see section VII).

VI
What is the value of a person so brain damaged that he cannot
make reason-based choices?
The interests of an agent that first exists as a zygote are equal
to ours because orientations to goals are what measure value. The
orientation to future free choices of ends is what makes us ends-inthemselves. The agent existing at the zygote stage, and at every
stage of human development, is oriented to future free choices of
ends and so is an end-in-itself. 19
Features acquired later cannot make an agent that first exists as
a zygote into an end-in-itself. Acquired features get their value by
serving the agent's interests, as determined by orientations to goals
17 Simon, Freedom of Choice, 97-127; Aquinas, De Veritate q. 24, a. 1, ad 17 and 20; q.
24,a. 2.
18 Yves Simon, Practical Knowledge, ed. Robert J. Mulvaney (New York: Fordham
University Press, 1991), 11-17; Aquinas, STh 1-11, q. 57, a. 5 ad 3; In Ethic. VI, lect 2 (n.
1131).
19 John C. Cahalan, "A Prolegomenon to Any Future Ethics of Abortion," Life and
LeamingVIII: Proceedingsof the Eighth UniversityFaculty for Life Conference,ed. Joseph W.
Koterski, S.J. (Washington: University Faculty for Life, 1999), 327-62.

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that exist from the zygote stage on. 20 AIDS is an acqurred feature
that does not bestow value on its subject, since it is against its
subject's interests. Acquired features bestow only a relativevalue,
a value relative to orientations to goals that remain in existence,
at least at the genetic level, as the agent that first exists as a zygote
makes itself into each succeeding human stage. If a zygote's genetic
orientation to choice were not that of an end-in-itself, nothing
would be an end-in-itself.
If a brain-damaged human agent also were not an end-in-itself,
nothing would be. The failure to develop a feature, or to be able
to use a feature, that would be in his interest cannot make a braindamaged human being cease being an end-in-itself. If it did, his
value would depend on his acquired features, rather than their
value depending on their relation to him; so he would not have
been an end-in-itself to begin with as a zygote. Treating a braindamaged person as if he is not an end-in-itself is treating him as if
he is not what he is.
Another way to put it is that a brain-damaged person has, at the
least, an orientation to free choice of the same kind as the zygote:
the genome by which the zygote is oriented to develop the
proximate dispositions for choice. A brain-damaged person may
no longer share with the zygote the ability to develop those
dispositions. But he still shares the ability to, and the orientation
to, keep himself in existence; and he keeps himself in existence as
an agent with an orientation, at the genetic level, toward free
choice. His orientation to keep himself in existence as such an
agent even includes the zygote's way of doing that, by cellular
division passing the genome to new cells. The activity of keeping
itself in existence as an agent with a genetic orientation to free
choice is the underlying feature making any agent an end-in-itself.
In an adult the continued existence of proximate dispositions for
20 We could choose not to speak of "goals," "interests," "ends," etc. before that agent is
conscious, but only of its orientations to produce "effects." That choice, however, would get
its "value" from an effect I am aiming at, and an effect has value because of what it is, not
what it is called. Zygotes are oriented to produce effects of the same kind as I am, effects
chosen by the rational appetite. So I could achieve nothing by that choice of terminology, or
any other choice, that is of higher value than what zygotes are oriented to.

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choice is caused by the underlying actions by which the adult
maintains its existence. The actions by which an adult maintains
its existence are more complex than the zygote's. But we would
not be living adults if cells in our body did not continue to
reproduce our genome the same way the zygote's causality does.
A brain-damaged agent keeps himself in existence-and has an
interest in doing so, since he is oriented to doing so-as an entity
that also has, at the most fundamental level, an orientation to free
choice. He maintains his existence as an end-in-itself until the
death of the brain stem, when he no longer keeps himself in
existence as an agent with an orientation to free choice.
When I put my interest ahead of another's, my comparative
evaluation cannot stop at our interests in abstraction from the
entities whose interests they are; for reason is aware of our needs
and desires as effects of dispositions belonging to us. If the fact
that our desires are actualizations of dispositions requires evaluations made by the rational appetite not to stop at the desires, the
same fact requires evaluations not to stop at the more proximate
dispositions but to extend to the most fundamental dispositions of
which the more proximate are actualizations. In an adult, the
orientation to free choice does not require the existence of
proximate dispositions for choice, such as a fully alert adult has;
sleepers, the drunk, and the comatose have orientations to free
choice at deeper causal levels. A choice that devalues a braindamaged person's way of being oriented to goals has value for us
only because we share with him an orientation to goals more
fundamental than the choice. Our choice to value him as less than
an end-in-itself treats him as if he were not what he is, a being
with an orientation to free choice of the same kind that most
fundamentally gives value to our choice. And the choice violates
the rational appetite's goal in another way: it is ir-rational because
arbitrary; it cannot have a reasoned basis. It is a choice of which
way of being oriented to goals will be our measure of value. But
a choice of any way of being oriented to freely chosen ends other
than the most fundamental way must be arbitrary since that choice

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has value for us only because our most fundamental orientation to
the free choice of ends gives value to it. 21

VII
"Evaluate things to be what they are" is not a moral principle.
Consider that its epistemic analogue, "Judge things to be what
they are," is not a principle that any science can use to determine
what judgments to make about what things are. That epistemic
"principle" comes from a reflexive, after-the-fact analysis of what
goes on in first-order, non-reflexive inquiries that use principles
like "Expect similar causes to have similar effects," "Do not
multiply entities without necessity," etc. Likewise, "Evaluate things
to be what they are" does not directly help us decide what choices
are defective or not defective, though indirectly it might, just as
epistemology might indirectly help the first-order sciences.
So the rational appetite's goal does not give us moral principles
like "Choose in conformity with reason." It gives us principles,
like "Do not put your interests ahead of another person's," "Treat
persons as ends, not means," and others, that express causal
conditions without which a choice cannot achieve the goal of
evaluating things to be what they are. The reflexive analysis of
what it means for such principles to obligate requires reference to
the fact that choices have the goal of valuing things in conformity
with reason. But we no more need that analysis to know that other
21 Whatgood are a brain-damaged person's orientations to him if they cannot he fulfilled?
Ends-in-themselves are that for the sake of which everything else exists. They are the good,
for an appetite that evaluates things to be what they are, to which all other goods are relative.
To put an end-in-itself out of existence because he cannot attain other goods is to treat his
existence as if it is not the existence of a good that is absolute by the rational appetite's
standard; we are valuing the good he lacks more highly than him. Also, to value an entity as
not being an end-in-itself since it lacks features that would be in its interest, as measured by
its orientation to goals, amounts to valuing features in abstraction from the entity. But it is the
entity whose interests give value to features, not vice versa. Also, his malady is defective as
measured by whose orientation to goals, his or ours? He has the reachable goal, and so the
interest, of maintaining his existence as a certain kind of being; if that kind of being has
orientations that make him an end-in-itself, we must value his interests as those of an end-initself, and hence as goods of ours. But to end his life, we must choose our own ends in a way
that excludes his achieving any end. So we are valuing him as if he is not what he is, a being
whose orientations are those of an end-in-itself.

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persons deserve treatment as ends-in-themselves from reasonbased choices than we need the philosophy of logic to know that
modus ponens is valid or epistemology to trust our senses.
Our original, prephilosophic knowledge that choices are
morally good or bad comes from the inclinations that are the
reasons why we call things good or bad. Without an awareness of
those inclinations we could not have our awareness of things as
good or bad, since to be good or bad is to be a term to which we
are related by such an inclination. We need concepts to
understand moral value. But the experience from which moral
concepts derive is an awareness of inclinations, an awareness that
cannot depend on mental states, such as concepts, other than the
inclinations themselves; if it did, those inclinations would not
themselves be conscious states.
When a child reaches the age of reason, he acquires a
nonreflexive awareness that he sets his own ends; for that is what
his conscious choices do. He is also aware that behind the
behavior of other people are unobserved states like those he
nonreflexively observes in himself; for he can ask others to think
of a number, remember, dose their eyes and imagine, etc. He is
aware, then, that others are Hke him in being able to set their own
ends. So when he ponders choice X, which puts his interests ahead
of another's, he can know that X is wrong.
Beyond his awareness that X would evaluate himself and
another person unequally, and so contrary to what he knows them
both to be, he gets his awareness that such an evaluation is morally
wrong from the fact that the rational appetite's finality
simultaneously enters his awareness as a conscious inclination to
choose in conformity with what he knows about the other
person. 22 That inclination makes him aware of X as conflicting
with a goal of what he is doing in making a reason-based choice.
22 Awareness of the rational appetite's inclination is not a special tingle or twitch. Included,
implicitly or explicitly, in the awareness that we are faced with a choice is the fact that we
cannot avoid basing the choice on rational knowledge, and so the fact that we cannot avoid
the culpability or credit that comes from the choice's being based on knowledge of what the
things the choice relates us to are. So normally we are nonreflexively aware that we are
oriented to making choices that have the goal of conforming to reason's knowledge.

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To ask how we first become aware of a choice as morally good or
bad is to ask how we first become aware of it as achieving or not
achieving the rational appetite's goal. The only possible origin is
an awareness of the choice as the term, or as contra-term, of the
rational appetite's inclination to its goal, which requires an
awareness of the rational appetite's inclination. This is the origin
of "practical" knowledge of a moral, rather than technical, kind.
The rational appetite's inclination is to conform to knowledge
we already have; so that knowledge precedes the inclination the
awareness of which makes moral knowledge moral. The
knowledge that we possess prior to being aware of the rational
appetite's inclination must be either practical knowledge of a
technical kind like "To achieve end Y, make choice X," or
speculative knowledge like "The other person can set his own
ends," not moral knowledge. Moral knowledge cannot originate
from an inclination to conform to merely technical truths. If the
end in question, Y, is not the goal of the rational appetite prior to
choice, failure to act as if knowledge of how to achieve it is true
does not violate the standard of morality. After I have chosen end
Y, to act as if what I inculpably believe true about how to achieve
Y were not true would amount to absence of sound mind, not
immorality. Knowledge of how to achieve the rational appetite's
goal, however, is moral, not technical, by hypothesis. So the goal
of conforming to premoral knowledge must be that of conforming
to speculative knowledge, like the knowledge that persons can set
their own ends or that God's being is infinite. If not, moral
knowledge would exist before that awareness of the rational
appetite's finality that initiates moral knowledge.
We express our initial moral awareness by forming concepts
that are the moral meanings of "good," "bad," "right," "wrong,"
"ought," "should," etc. Then, when we ask "Ought I do X," about
reason-based choices, awareness of the meaning of "ought" is
presupposed in the asking. We cannot ask the question if we do
not have an awareness of the orientation that gives "ought" its
meaning. So when I ask "Is it right to do X," it would be irrelevant
to ask "'right' by the standard of whose goal or of what goal?" The

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finality that provides the standard by which to answer that
question is presupposed in the asking. Here "presupposed" does
not refer to a logical premise but to the conscious state of affairs
that causes reason to function morally. 23
When we ask "Should we love God above all things or other
persons as if they are ends-in-themselves," the moral principles in
question are self-evident, known true by the meanings of their
terms, to practical reason. It is self-evident to speculative reason
that a choice to love the infinitely perfect being above all else
values his being according to what it is, and that, if we do not give
a being who sets his own ends the place in our values of someone
ordered to ends he gives himself, what he is in our values is not
what he is in reality. And since awareness through inclination of
the rational appetite's goal of valuing things to be what they are is
presupposed when we use "should," it is self-evident to practical
reason that we should love God and other people in these ways.

VIII
The moral defect in a choice that does not conform to what
things are is intrinsic to the choice just as falsehood is an intrinsic
defect in a belief. So all morally evil choices are intrinsically evil.
But some choices have as their objects acts that we can also call
intrinsically evil. An act that is an object of choice makes a choice
evil by causing it to value things as if they are not what they are.
The choice of some acts is evil only under certain conditions. But
the definitions of terms like "suicide," "murder," "artificial
contraception," "getting drunk," and others include causal factors
23 Immoral choices conflict with both practical knowledge (belief) of the moral kind and
speculative knowledge, the former knowledge telling us that the latter conflict is evil. The
truth of items of moral knowledge can be explained speculatively, as I am trying to do,
without making moral knowledge speculative. The statement, "'We should love God above
all things' expresses a requirement for fulfilling the rational appetite's goal," is speculative
knowledge about an item of moral knowledge. The moral knowledge is not deduced from
speculative knowledge of the rational appetite's goal. That speculative knowledge enters the
reflexive speculative analysis of the nature of moral value, not into practical awareness of a
choice's moral value. The speculative knowledge that enters our moral knowledge that we
should love God and our neighbor is knowledge of what these entities are.

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sufficient to make a choice of any such act evil by the rational
appetite's standard. Such an act is "intrinsically" evil in the sense
that, no matter what good effects it may have, choosing it requires
us to value things to be other than what we know they are. 24
Murder and suicide put out of existence that for the sake of
which everything else exists; so choosing them values the end
achieved as if it were a higher good than ends-in-themselves. Also,
if a choice gives sex the status in our values of not existing for the
sake of making persons, persons do not have the status in our
values of being that for the sake of which everything else exists;
for the existence of persons is not even that for the sake of which
a means of making persons exists. But by refraining from sex, we
can sacrifice other goods rather than value sex as if it did not exist
for the sake of making persons and so value persons as if they
24 We can see why choosing a certain kind of act is immoral under all conditions only by
seeing why the act's nature would cause any choice of it to violate the rational appetite's
finality. Thus, Aquinas always assumes that moral evil is by nature a property of the interior
act of choice. "Principium bonitatis et malitiae humanorum [i.e., moral] actuum est ex actu
voluntatis" (STh I-II, q. 19, a. 2; see De Malo q. 2, a. 2, ad 3, 5, 10, 11, and 12). Even De
Malo q. 2, a. 3, where at first we might not expect it, calls "moral" only culpa, not peccatum.
Why a choice has this property is a different question. The cause of a choice's being morally
evil can be the object, the intention, and/or the circumstances. The physical evil of a chosen
act may alone be sufficient to determine that a choice would violate the rational appetite's
goal. "Moral evil" is primarily said of a choice, not the chosen act, as "healthy" is said first of
bodies, not food; but the features that constitute the ratio of a chosen act can determine a
choice's moral value, just as what food is can cause health in a body. For example, the phrase
"killing an innocent person" describes an act whose evil is physical rather than specifically
moral (STh I-II, q. 19, a. 1, obj. 3 and ad 3); the phrase could describe an animal's act. But
once reason recognizes that ratio, a different act, the act of choosing to kill, must be defective
in a specifically moral way. And so the nonmoral ratio (the described act was not yet morally
characterized; "innocent" makes a moral reference, but to something other than the act
described) acquires a moral property, that of being a cause of moral evil in reason-based
choices, required by its defining notes; as a result, the act belongs to a moral, as well as
physical, category. "Inquantum [objectum] cadit sub ordine rationis pertinet ad genus moris
(the object does not belong to a moral type insofar as it is what it is, but insofar as the
performance of the act is directed by reason [cf. "secundum quod est in apprehensione," De
Malo 2, 3]), et causat [malitiam] moralem in actu voluntatis" (it belongs to a moral type
because what it is would cause the rational appetite's goal to be violated) (STh I-II, q. 19, a.
1, ad 3; and see De Malo q. 2, a. 2, ad 12). In other words, what the chosen act is, "quantum
est in se" (STh III, q. 23, a. 7), is not suitable matter to receive, from a will with charity, the
form of being a virtuous act.

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were not that for the sake of which everything else exists. 25 Also,
drunkenness differs from drug-caused unconsciousness in that we
continue to act in ways that would otherwise be under the control
of the rational appetite. Since we are valuing some other good
over rational control of our acts, which is what makes us ends-inthemselves, we are evaluating being an end-in-itself as if it were
not being that for the sake of which everything exists.
Definitions of other acts also express necessary conditions for
choices to conform to reason. But the definitions of some acts, like
"breaking a promise," in dude causal factors sufficient to make a
choice defective unless other factors exist that involve something
that the rational appetite should value more highly than keeping a
promise, value more highly by the standard of what human endsin-themselves need in order to achieve their ends. Reason tells us
that achieving ends requires social arrangements such as promises,
but reason also teHs us that there are some things we need more,
like food. If keeping a promise to play golf would put a child at
risk of starving, we would be sacrificing the greater good of one
end-in-itself to the lesser good of another and so fail to treat the
child's interests as equal to those of other persons.
In some cases, we know that the combination of notes defining
an act produces the effect that choosing the act is wrong. If so, the
relation of those notes to a choice's defectiveness can be stated in
unqualified formulas like "Killing an innocent person is always
wrong." In other cases, we know that the defining notes produce
this effect unless impeded from doing so by other causes, or unless
other causes produce the opposite effect, although the possible
mitigating factors are too numerous to include in a definition of
a term. If so, the relation of the defining notes to a choice's
defectiveness must be qualified by a ceteris paribus clause as in
"Breaking a promise is wrong, all other things being equaL"'
The latter cases, however, are not morally neutral. Failure to
follow the general principle always requires justification; if no
m1t1gating causes are present, the notes in the definition are
sufficient to cause a defective choice. Likewise, the law of
25 A detailed

version of this new birth-control argument is available from the author

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induction tells us that similar causes have similar effects, all other
things being equal; so in the absence of other causes, we know the
kind of effect that will occur.
Other action terms, such as "playing loud music," refer to
morally neutral acts. Their definitions do not include conditions
sufficient to make the choice of the act either successful or
defective by the standard of the rational appetite's goal. Effects of
individual cases (effects other than those defining an act) on
people's ability to pursue ends determine whether choosing the act
puts our interests ahead of others'. Loud music at 4 A.M. can
deprive other persons of sleep, which human nature makes us
need more than entertainment to achieve our ends.
IX

This analysis of moral obligation is implied by our everyday
beliefs. Before we are misled by philosophy or pseudo-social
science, we know that a deliberate injustice done to a person is
something evil independently of our subjective preferences, evil in
its nature. To believe that act X does not give someone his due is
to believe that what he is is due something, and hence that to
deprive him of his due is to treat him as if he is not what he is. But
does X treat him as if he is not what he is because something is
due what he is; or is something due him because treating him
otherwise would treat him as if he is not what he is? To answer
this question note that what is "due" him must also be due him by
the standard of some goal to which we are oriented. We know that
it is not due him from his cat but from beings with a certain goal.
What goal?
From our own case we also know that, once we have achieved
rational awareness, directing ourselves to an end amounts to
choosing to use one consciously conceived causal connection
rather than another as the plan by which we direct our action. 26
We can bomb a factory because we use our belief that bombing it
26

93.

See my comments on De Malo q. l, a. 3 in "MakingSomething out ofNihilation," 192-

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will help win a war to direct ourselves to that end, or not bomb it
because we use our belief that not bombing it will save a loved
one's life to direct ourselves to that end. 27 But we cannot avoid
choosing to use a consciously conceived causal connection (even
a superstitious hope we choose to view as consistent with rational
knowledge) as our plan, nor can we avoid knowing that we must
choose a consciously conceived causal connection for the purpose
of being guided by, and so of acting in conformity with, rational
knowledge. So we know that contravening that purpose would
violate a naturally necessary goal of reason-based choices. Is that
purpose the goal that makes something due someone from us?
We also know that we cannot blame for an injustice someone
who is inculpably deprived of the relevant rational knowledge,
which is knowledge of what some thing or things are, since that is
what reason knows. So we know that it is knowledge of what
someone is that causes knowledge of what he is due. Hence, the
answer to our question whether X fails to treat someone as if he
is what he is because something is due him is no; something is due
him because treating him otherwise would fail to treat him as if he
is what he is. And we know that treating him as if he is not what
reason knows him to be is intrinsically evil because we know that
it violates a naturally necessary goal of reason-based choices. For
a rational appetite, what ought to be (what achieves the appetite's
goal) is that what something is in our values be the same as what
it is in itself. 28

27 Note that what is inside or outside of our intention is determined by which causal
connection we choose to use as a plan.
2 • I am grateful for the kind help of Janice Schultz Aldrich, Lawrence Dewan, Thomas
Hibbs, Michael Pakaluk, and an anonymous reviewer.

The Thomist 66 (2002): 133-47

CATHOLIC BIOETHICS: THREE RECENT STUDIES1
BASIL COLE, 0.P.
Dominican House of Studies
Washington, D.C.

T

HERE IS A LAW that goes into effect when buying a new
computer: it will be outdated and cheaper to buy six
months later. Something similar happens when a theologian writes a book on the subject of medical moral theology:
some new moral problem will emerge after the book is sent to the
printers. It is also very difficult to explain and defend the
Church's teaching on medical moral questions and much easier to
create one's own norms while criticizing the Church for being
obstinate or behind the cultural times. This article discusses three
recent books that attempt to do the former rather than the latter. 2

I. Two TEXTBOOKS: ASHLEY AND O'ROURKE AND MAY

A) Complementary Approaches
Since 1978, Benedict Ashley, O.P., and Kevin O'Rourke, O.P.,
have published four editions of their Healthcare Ethics: A
Theological Analysis. The first edition ran 14 chapters and 506
The author of this article wishes to thank Bro. Nicanor Austriaco, 0.P., for his timely
criticisms of this manuscript.
1 Benedict M. Ashley, O.P., and Kevin D. O'Rourke,
O.P., Health Care Ethics: A
Theological Analysis, 4th ed. (Washington D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 1997), pp. 530
+ xiv. William E. May, Catholic Bioethics and the Gift of Li(e (Huntington, Ind.: Our Sunday
Visitor, 2000), pp. 340; Peter Cataldo and Albert Moraczewski, O.P., eds., Catholic Health
Care Ethics: A Manual for Ethics Committees (Boston: National Catholic Bioethics Center,
2001).
1

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pages; the latest revision has 15 chapters and 520 pages. It would
be very valuable for the community of scholars and students who
have specialized in this field if someone would write an overview
of all these editions. It must be noted that the theology and moral
conclusions of Ashley and O'Rourke evolved over the years, yet
newer and newer medico-moral problems confronted the Church
and world just as the latest of their editions came out. It was not
their fault, for example, that when this edition was finally printed
(1998) it contained nothing on Alan Shewmon's latest scientific
doubts about brain death, the human genome project, or ethical
questions concerning the separation of Siamese twins; the book
was being printed when these issues surfaced. Similarly, when
William May's CatholicBioethicsand the Gift of Human Life was
finally printed, it contained nothing either on the Siamese
question or on Pope John Paul's assertion that there is a moral
certainty that total brain death can still be used as a criterion for
true death. It is presently impossible to write the definitive and
complete text in this field because scientific and medical advances
or moral problems occur very quickly, and new moral perplexities
emerge sometimes it seems on a monthly basis. Still, both books,
each in its own way, are invaluable tools for learning the basic
principles of this theological and philosophical science. What may
not be found in one text can often be discovered in the other.
They are in agreement for the most part on the mainline problems
associated with medical ethics but also disagree on several key
issues, including the use of artificial hydration and nutrition for
permanent-vegetative-state (PVS) cases and the use of
methotrexate as a method for coping with tubal pregnancies.
These issues have not yet been settled by the Church's
magisterium, so lively disagreement is reasonable. On other controversial issues both resolved and unresolved by the magisterium,
they manage to agree but from different perspectives.
Ashley and O'Rourke come from a long Thomistic natural-law
tradition in their analysis of the field of Catholic medical moral
theology, but they also attempt to synthesize, coordinate, and
criticize a whole gamut of authors who have written in the field

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of medical moral ethics both within and outside the Thomistic
and even the Catholic tradition. Their guiding light is called
"prudential personal ism." Many moral answers to medical
problems are not moral absolutes. The virtue of prudence is
necessary to solve these problems (e.g., what is ordinary and
extraordinary medical care in particular clinical cases) in the
concrete order of health care. The solutions must be such that the
dignity of the human person is upheld and perfected rather than
harmed. But what is perfecting or harmful is not always easy to
determine in some cases.
Ashley and O'Rourke divide their book into five parts, three
sections dealing with pastoral concerns and the other two with the
core of medical moral problems. The first three sections deal
primarily with the meaning of being human as an ensou]ed body,
responsibility for one's health, uses of stewardship, patients'
rights, the healthcare profession itself, and the team that surrounds healthcare administration. They raise the dilemmas facing
many Catholic hospitals today concerning institutional identity,
relations with the state, and the purpose of ethics committees. In
the final chapter of the book (chap. 15, which could have been
placed in the earlier sections), the authors rightly argue for a
holistic view of care which must include the spiritual dimension
of the human person. In this light they offer timely advice to
priests, religious sisters, and other spiritual counselors.
The reason for all these chapters, which deal with moral
theology or ethics in the broad sense of the word, is quite simple.
The authors' goal is to reach a wide audience in the healthcare
profession, some of whom may not be Catholic or even Christian.
However, all medical personnel need to understand their own
work as fully human, and not merely technical; doctors and nurses especially need to communicate to patients a great deal of
compassion. The authors therefore want to show nurses and doctors alike that there are many nuances involved in healthcare that
extend beyond simply giving people medicine or operating on
their bodies. Ashley and O'Rourke also show the problems that
emerge from a for-profit healthcare system and why such a system

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has the tendency to neglect people's medical needs, thus violating
their rights. In doing so, the authors remind the Catholic
community at large how important it is to care for the human
person even if he or she cannot afford the medical expenses such
care involves. Also, it is necessary for the government to be aware
of its obligation to take care of its poorer citizens, an obligation
that arises from the dignity of the human person which grounds
civil society.
Chapters 7 and 8 begin the more formal treatment of ethics.
Here the authors begin to reflect on principles and methodologies, teleology, and higher norms coming from Christian
faith, hope, and love. They also ask whether there is such a perspective as Christian ethics or whether this is simply natural-law
ethics.
Chapter 9 begins the heart of the book which deals with the
critical issues of artificial reproduction, fetal testing, abortion,
contraception, genetic interventions, experimentation, mental
illness, death, truth telling, euthanasia, and letting people die.
Here the authors face the moral dilemmas head on and come
down on the side of the Church's teaching. They do have some
disagreements with other loyal theologians and students in matters
that have not been pronounced upon by ecclesiastical authority.
For example, in the area of assisted reproduction, they do not
favor GIFT, a procedure that others loyal to the magisterium
claim respects the moral integrity of the conjugal act. Also, Ashley
and O'Rourke disagree with many on the issue of artificial feeding
and hydration of those locked in what is unfortunately called the
"persistent vegetative state" (as if humans became vegetables in a
specific illness). They argue that since these human persons cannot
function with their higher centers of life, nor feed themselves,
such care as tube feeding is disproportionate to their needs; these
people are really imminently dying and so should be allowed to
die by withdrawing food and drink. Ashley and O'Rourke do not
label such withdrawal as euthanasia but maintain that it is simply
letting a person die. According to them 9 the artificial tubal feeding
and hydrating merely prolongs the dying process (a conclusion

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that both the Pennsylvania Bishops and the American Bishops'
Pro-Life Committee, along with William May do not accept).
William May's work, Catholic Bioethics, is arranged in a
different order with a somewhat different audience in mind. He
makes no mention of pastoral theology as part of medical moral
theology and simply divides his material into eight chapters of
mostly direct moral questions with his replies and criticism of
other theologians, including Ashley and O'Rourke.
Chapter 1 begins with a clear presentation in summary form of
the major contemporary documentation relating to medical moral
ethics from John Paul II and the Congregation of Doctrine and
Faith: namely, Evangelium Vitae, Veritatis Splendor, Donum Vitae,
Declaration on Procured Abortion, and the Declaration on
Euthanasia. Chapter 2 is a very precise and critical review of what
theologians call "fundamental moral theology" with the help of
Veritatis Splendor and St. Thomas Aquinas. It leads to an identification of the first principles of natural law, and a discussion of
how they differ from norms and why they are so necessary for
integral human fulfillment as perfected by the redemption of Jesus
Christ. As one reads these first two chapters, it is quite clear that
this book is for theologians who wish to follow the teaching of the
Church doing theology, not simply from reason alone but with
the light of the magisterium. It will become quite clear throughout
the text that May is trying to root his conclusions deeply in sacred
sources. By contrast, Ashley and O'Rourke, whose intended
audience includes more than Catholics, appeal more to reason and
refer to the magisterium of the Church more in their notes than
in the text itself.
In chapters 3 to 8, May takes up most of the same questions as
Ashley and O'Rourke but adds newer problems: rescuing frozen
embryos (not found in Ashley and O'Rourke); abortion (direct
and indirect) and management of ectopic pregnancies; cloning
(not mentioned by Ashley and O'Rourke); a critique of GIFT; a
critique of Grisez, Boyle, and Lee on craniotomy (not found in
Ashley and O'Rourke); experimentation on human subjects; gene
therapy and screening; euthanasia, assisted suicide, and care of the

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dying; caring for the permanently unconscious; experimenting on
the newly born (contra the U.S. Bishops' older Directives which
left a loophole and also not commented upon by Ashley and
O'Rourke); PVS cases; defining death in light of Shewmon's
challenge against total brain death as normative clinical sign of
death; and finally, Shewmon's criticisms of using total brain death
as the criterion for organ transplantation. Other subjects taken up
by May in which he comes to positions that are contrary to those
of Ashley and O'Rourke are the following: extreme caution in the
use of fertility drugs; the ordinary comfort care of PVS patients
(artificial feeding and hydrating as ordinarily obligatory); and
methotrexate and salpingostomy as immoral management of tubal
pregnancies (contra Moraczewski).
For professors and students of Catholic medical moral
theology alike, these two books-taken together and notwithstanding the legitimate disputes among them-are a veritable gold
mine because most of the main-line questions at present in this
area of theology are discussed by each text. They disagree on
several key questions on which the Church has yet to rule, and the
debate is informative. What May will leave out of, for example,
his consideration of the pastoral practice of holistic care of the
patient, Ashley and O'Rourke provide. When Ashley and
O'Rourke argue their convictions without direct recourse to the
magisterium, May, often coming to the same conclusions, readily
supplies the basic references to the salient texts in the text or
endnotes. One could almost say these books bespeak a spring-time
for theology wherein a homogeneous evolution of moral doctrine
is taking place.
B) Criticisms
Looking back over Ashley and O'Rourke, we seem to find
times when they could be less ambiguous on some of their minor
positions. For instance, in the introduction, it might have been
better said that some positions in the Catholic ethical systems are
complete and fixed (moral absolutes forbidding certain acts for

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example) while at the same time some solutions are historical and
dynamic in character because they depend more on prudence than
on matters of principle. Furthermore, on page 20, when making
reference to Aquinas's list of needs in the Summa Theologiae (I-II,
q. 94, a. 2), it might have been better to say that this is not a
taxative and static but a dynamic list. Finally, one wonders if a
view of healthcare as being concerned about all levels of activity,
bodily as well as spiritual, blurs some distinctions between the
ethicist, the counselor, and the medical doctor. Ashley and
O'Rourke are quite right to point out the need for these people to
work together. Perhaps, however, it would be most helpful to give
one definition simply for the healthcare personnel, another for
the ethicist, and another for the counselor, taking into account
their specific roles.
It would seem that Ashley and O'Rourke give a poor example
of counseling the lesser evil where they encourage someone to
take the anovulant pill rather than the abortifacient pill (58). In
this instance, the doctor seems to be a proximate material
cooperator in an evil act. This is different from the case where a
mother tells her abusive and drunken husband not to beat their
son with a baseball bat but use only a belt instead. She does not
give him the belt (unlike the doctor who encourages the taking of
the anovulant pill) but merely, by advice, tries to lower the
threshold of physical evil inflicted on her son. A Catholic doctor
especially should not directly encourage his patients to take-or
worse, give them-something the use of which appears to be
intrinsically evil.
Ashley and O'Rourke address the problems of transsexualism,
and give some criteria that would have to be met in order for
surgery to be morally viable (341ff.). They believe that the
problem is primarily psychological, and therefore that
psychotherapy is in order. I am even less sanguine than Ashley and
O'Rourke that surgery could ever conceivably be morally viable.
It is worth noting that more psychological treatment is usually
needed after the procedure because the operation offers mere
temporary not permanent relief from undue anxiety. To undergo

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such a mutilation to end a serious anxiety temporarily does not
seem to square with the principle of totality especially since one's
genetic sexual make-up is largely determined by the X and Y
chromosomes. Therefore the problem seems to be not biological
but environmental. If this problem is not biological but
psychological, how can one justify an operation to change one's
sex, as it were? The sex is really not changed and the psychological problem remains.
Like May, Ashley and O'Rourke neglect to speculate about the
question of experimenting on spontaneously aborted or miscarried dead embryos. This is unfortunate, especially since it is
possible in theory to establish "banks" of those embryos rather
than using fetuses from recently procured abortions. The latter
procedure, now federally funded in the United States for sixty
stem-cell lines, would seem to be in complicity with those engaged
in the abortion "industry" (material cooperation in evil); the
former, assuming the consent of the parents, would not.
At the beginning of chapter 13, Ashley and O'Rourke seem to
adopt the position of Boros, Rahner, and others that death is
somehow a ratification of life or an active consummation, a
maturing self-realization. While this may have been true for the
majority of saints as they faced death, it was not true for all (St.
Alphomms Liguori had a most difficult death to endure
psychologically). Most people do not experience death as Ashley
and O'Rourke describe it but more negatively as a punishment
which Catholic teaching says flows primarily as a result of original
sin (CCC 400, 402 etc.).
Since the treatment of AIDS is mentioned from time to time by
Ashley and O'Rourke (not discussed at all by May), they might
have done a great service if they had given some insight regarding
other sexually transmitted diseases as well. Today, there is an even
more pandemic problem in the United States called HPV or the
human papilloma virus which, according to the Washington Times
(7 Nov. 2000, p. 2), has infected an estimated 24 million people.
There are over thirty-one strains, one of which can actually cause
cancer. This is a serious medical problem that deserves some

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moral reflection. It is a side effect of (usually wrongful) sexual
intercourse that affects heterosexuals as much as homosexuals,
and is in no way prevented by the use of condoms.
Finally, Ashley and O'Rourke have left out the distinction
between neurosis and psychosis. This was done perhaps for the
sake of simplification, but such a distinction explains why there
are some radically different types of psychiatric treatment.
Ashley and O'Rourke's book is more extensive than May's, and
thus presents more grounds for criticism. This does not mean that
May's book is a paragon of perfection. At times, May clips his
arguments too quickly when it might have been helpful if several
more paragraphs were inserted. This is true especially in the
sections dealing with cloning and the danger of rape. Also, a
history of the Holy See's position on craniotomy might have been
a more effective way of dealing with Grisez et al.'s position.
Furthermore, the work done by the diocese of Peoria could have
been mentioned in the analysis of rape because its protocol for
Catholic hospitals seems to be the most articulate moral solution
to the problem and is consistent with May's thinking.
In his treatment of Shewmon's thesis concerning total brain
death, May could have said more about how Shewmon has
changed his conclusion twice based upon newer observations of
the problem. Shewmon persuaded the Holy See to incorporate
into its documents brain death as the criterion for death. Recently,
as a result of newer research and reflection, he has attempted to
show that it is not a valid criterion for death. After pondering
John Paul's speech to the Transplant Congress (L'Osservatore
Romano, English edition, 30 Aug. 2000, 1-2), the theologian who
is sympathetic to May's perspectives could argue that while the
Church accepts from the community of science that total brain
death is a criterion for death with "moral certainty," she does not
yet officially endorse it fully because it is in the area principally of
a scientific conclusion rather than a direct moral question. Science
deals with the clinical signs of death rather than a philosophical
or theological question of death, which falls under the Church's
sacred deposit. And Shewmon among others, since August 2001,

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has raised grave scientific doubts concerning total brain death as
the criterion for death itself.
May says very little about the questions surrounding the evil of
sterilization such as vasectomy and tubal ligations which can have
serious evil side effects on wives and husbands both medically and
morally. A few paragraphs should have included something
regarding the possibilities of reversing the various operations.
Finally, May leaves out of his treatment altogether a consideration
of psychiatry and its methods in treating mental illness. This
would seem to be a serious omission that needs to be addressed in
a later edition of the book. Fortunately, Ashley and O'Rourke
deal with these vital questions, ranging from neurosis to
homosexuality (which the association of psychotherapists still
claims to be a mental illness, contrary to the association of
psychiatrists).
Neither May nor Ashley and O'Rourke attempt to explore the
right or wrong kinds of "Living Wills." Ashley and O'Rourke
seem to think that these wills should not be binding (432). However, it would seem that it might be possible to write out the key
principles in such tight legal language that one would be protected
from abusive medical behavior on the part of the medi-cal staff of
a hospital or even the local government. In any case, a solid
criticism of some suggested forms already available for leaving
instructions to health-care proxies or advanced medical directives
is necessary for even the ordinary parish priest so that he may
guide his parishioners away from signing documents that could
lead to their being euthanized. May, on the other hand, while also
opposed to writing up a "living will," has some important things
to say about the "durable power of attorney."
These and other gaps in the subject matter in these books
might be due to limitations of space placed on the authors by the
publishers. Possibly Georgetown University Press was more
generous in that regard in giving Ashley and O'Rourke a great
deal more room to develop their arguments than Our Sunday
Visitor did with May. Notwithstanding, it would be very helpful
for future editions if both books had cases presented after each

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chapter with questions for students to debate, as is done in more
secular treatments of bioethics.
C) An Appeal to the Magisterium
There are some questions in dispute of notable importance,
and both sides are convinced they are right. One is reminded of
the sizable majority of theologians from the 1970s until the 1990s
who were convinced that the "uterine isolation" for women who
had many caesarian operations was morally correct until the
Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith taught that it was
morally incorrect and essentially another form of sterilization
since the uterus "as such" is not directly life threatening to the
woman. Similarly, there were some who taught that stimulating
an early birth of an anacephalic fetus was legitimate as a means to
help the mother cope with such a birth, until the Holy See corrected them. It would seem that in these perplexing and
complicated matters, one should be more cautious in presenting
one's own analysis as the correct or final solution. Sometimes,
Ashley and O'Rourke seem a little too eager to withhold
hydration and nutrition from PVS cases. May would have built an
even stronger case in this matter if he had cited John Paul's words
to the bishops of California, Nevada, and Hawaii: "The
presumption should be in favor of providing medically assisted
nutrition and hydration to all patients who need them" (in
L'Osservatore Romano, English edition, 7 Oct. 1998, 6).
The disagreements between these theologians on some major
medical moral issues indicates that there are several topics ripe for
the magisterium to make a decision one way or the other regarding the truth or falsity of certain moral conundrums, such as
artificial feeding and hydration of PVS patients. For now, three
fine authors and many bishops are at loggerheads on whether PVS
patients are imminently dying or are better understood as being
severely handicapped or impaired. If the former, perhaps they do
not truly "need" artificial hydration and feeding; if the latter, they
surely do. If the answer to these questions is not simply for

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doctors to decide but for philosophers and theologians as well, it
would seem to be within the competence of the magisterium to
settle. ls it sheer "vitalism" (life for life's sake) to artificially feed
and hydrate these patients? H not, then to withhold these vital
means would be objectively a form of euthanasia. If the inability
to feed oneself the normal way is not "imminent death," then this
would obligate the next of kin to take care of these patients within
reason, unless there were excessively burdensome factors
impeding those taking care of them.
There are other questions on which the arguments have come
to a standstill. For example, in an area where both May and
Ashley and O'Rourke agree, does GIFT as a means for an infertile
couple to have children interfere with the conjugal act or assist it?
Further, is non-therapeutic research on babies in conformity with
the statements of the Holy See against non-therapeutic experimentation on fetuses, or are the circumstances substantially
different once the child is born? Further, is rescuing frozen
embryos by married or unmarried relatives intrinsically evil by its
very object or is the object morally good? Thomists in general
prefer to let theologians argue things out, leaving some wiggle
room for personal freedom of choice in obscure matters of
morals. However, with respect to some of these particular
questions, if not most, so many people in the concrete order are
left to make decisions on their own. Therefore, it does seem
reasonable for the sake of ordinary people's consciences that the
Church's teaching office, like an umpire or referee, teach officially
and make a judgment on whether certain more difficult conclusions of these authors are in conformity with the gospel or not.
The reasons for both sides of the disputes are in both textbooks
and it would seem that no new arguments will be forthcoming.
II. A MANUAL: CATALDO AND MORACZEWSKI

Catholic Health Care Ethics: A Manual for Ethics Committees,
is not a textbook for those beginning in the field of medical moral
ethics in the Catholic tradition but for those already schooled in

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medical moral theology. It is composed of six parts broken down
into thirty-one chapters written by twenty-six very competent
individuals working in their respective fields of expertise, each
and all, attempting to follow the Church's official teaching. The
text is not bound but comes with a binder so that when future
solutions are received from the magisterium or new medical
problems or solutions arise, the National Catholic Bioethics
Center can easily send supplements to the text since this field is an
on-going challenge for the ethicist. The spirit of the all the
authors of this manual or handbook can be summed up by citing
a paragraph written by Peter J. Cataldo and Albert S.
Moraczewski, O.P., in their article "Pregnancy Prevention after
Sexual Assault" (part 3, chap. 11, p. 17):
This conclusion represents our considered theological and ethical opinion (and
that of the other NCBC staff ethicists). If this opinion is found in error by the
magisterium, or is found to be in any way inconsistent with the teaching of the
magisterium, then we will gladly retract the opinion and uphold the teaching of
the magisterium.

Questions disputed among theologians such as May and
Moraczewski are treated without bitter polemics as the "Editorial
Summation" will say:
Generally, if there are two compelling but contrary bodies of theological opinion
about a moral issue by experts whose work is [in] accordance with the
Magisterium of the church, and there is no specific magisterial teaching on the
issue that would resolve the matter, the decision makers may licitly act on either
opinion until such time that the Magisterium has resolved the question. Because
less is known about the effect of methotrexate on the embryo and the possibility
of the direct destruction of its life, the position of the National Catholic
Bioethics Center is that this drug ought not be used in the treatment of ectopic
pregnancy at the present time.

The Manual contains selected statements of the papal
magisterium together with an extensive bibliography and an
index. There are selected references and bibliography after each
individual essay as well. Some of these studies have been crafted
on previous issues of Medics and Ethics by the same authors but

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more often than not the Manual contains first-time material of a
very high quality. After each essay, there is an "Editorial
Summation" where from time to time, the editors will state that
a particular problem has not yet been solved by the magisterium
and so one is free to follow what he or she thinks is the truth even
after the editors give their personal opinions or the judgment of
the Center.
Part 1 begins with the material studied in fundamental moral
theology with certain adaptations for bioethics. This is a good
review of some aspects of fundamental moral theology. Part 2
reflects on the moral responsibilities of ethics committees
themselves-something left out of Ashley and O'Rourke as well
as May. Parts 3 and 4, the more difficult sections of the Manual,
take up "Beginning-of-Life Issues" and "End-of-Life Issues"
respectively. Part 5 develops selected clinical issues for understanding wisely organ donation, genetic medicine, experimentation, and religious freedom and treatment restrictions. Part 6
concludes with institutional issues (note particularly chapters 27
and 28 on the problems of cooperating with non-Catholic
partnerships).
Since the Manual was written for ethics committees and not
beginners in the field, much of the material presupposes a great
deal of familiarity with the subject matter and its methodology.
Nevertheless, as a supplement to May and Ashley and O'Rourke,
it takes its readers, intellectually speaking, to some very clinical or
"on-site" practical problems whereby one has to apply the
principles learned from the other two textbooks reviewed herein.
Ashley and O'Rourke will speak about holistic medicine and some
problems with for-profit hospital care today, and the Manual
expands these questions from different points of view. Also, the
Manual's treatment of the responsibilities of ethics committees in
hospitals also includes the bishop's committee, if he chooses to
have one.
One might make a few minor critical observations of moral
theory. One wonders if the principle of double effect could be
applied in preeclampsia (a disease of the placenta) prior to

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viability unless one could show that the placenta belongs to the
mother not the child (part 3, chap. 10A, p. 3). Further, a deeper
treatment of neurological criteria for death is needed in light of
Dr. Alan Shewmon's brilliant address given to the 18th
International Congress of the Transplantation Society on 29
August 2000. And Grisez's treatment of formal and material
cooperation as found in Difficult Moral Questions (appendix 2)
should be further studied and commented upon since he raises
questions there not heretofore discussed by theologians.
The selection of texts of the magisterium or bishops could have
been edited down to the salient points of bioethics, thus allowing
the addition of more sources, such as the Charter for Health Care
Workers (May 1994) issued by the Pontifical Council for Pastoral
Assistance, several passages from the Catechism of the Catholic
Church, and other documents on cloning, stem-cell research, and
the like.
Textbooks on Catholic teaching of medical moral theology for
at least the next ten years will have to begin with both Ashley and
O'Rourke and May because together they lay such strong
foundations for future speculation and practical decision making.
One would hope that someday other problems not referred to in
these texts such as indicated above will be mentioned and
included in new editions of these fine works, which can be so easy
for any reviewer to criticize but very difficult to produce himself.
As newer scientific discoveries are made in this field, John Paul's
guiding words will have to be taken into more account:
We have devised the astounding capacity to intervene in the very wellsprings of
life: man can use this power for good, within the bounds of the moral law, or he
can succumb to the short-sighted pride of a science which accepts no limits, but
tramples on the respect due to every human being .... ("0 Mother, intercede for
us," L'Osservatore Romano [11 Oct. 2000], 7)

BOOK REVIEWS
The Metaphysical Thought of Thomas Aquinas: From Finite Being to Uncreated
Being. By JOHNF. WIPPEL. Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of
America Press, 2000. Pp. xxvii + 630. $59.95 (cloth), $39.95 (paper).
ISBN 0-8132-0982-X (cloth), 0-8132-0983-8 (paper).

John Wippel, Professor of Philosophy at the Catholic University of America,
has presented us here with the richest fruits of his long and distinguished career
as a scholarly interpreter of the philosophical thought of St. Thomas. In some
600 pages of text (plus 17 pages of bibliography) he has reconstructed for us the
basic themes of the metaphysical thought of Aquinas in their strictly
philosophical content and order of exposition, tracing the development of each
theme through all the relevant texts in their historical order. Although much has
certainly been written about the individual themes of Thomas's metaphysics,
nowhere that I know of have all the basic topics been collected together in one
place, with their interconnections, and each one laid out in its historical
development through all the relevant texts of Thomas. This is a unique resource
book for Thomistic scholars interested in exactly what Thomas's own thought
on these topics was, not what was reconstructed by later disciples and
interpreters. Contrary to Gilson, who in his later period believed it was
impossible either to understand properly or to teach Thomas's philosophy
outside of the theological context in which he developed it, Wippel is convinced
that the philosophical arguments, even when used within theological expositions,
are philosophically self-contained, and that, in the light also of the commentaries
on Aristotle, Thomas has given clear enough indications as to the appropriate
philosophical method for developing these topics. I think Wippel is quite right.
It is worth adding that any literal following of Gilson on this point would result
in rendering inaccessible the richness of Thomistic philosophy to any but
theological students and Catholic ones at that-an entirely unacceptable practical
consequence, as the practice of the majority of contemporary teachers of
Thomism has made clear.
The contents of the book (condensed) and their ordering are as follows:
Introduction:
1. The Nature of Metaphysics
2. The Subject of Metaphysics
Part I: The Problem of the One and the Many in the Order of Being:
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1. Parmenides and the Analogy of Being
2. Participation
3. The Essence-Esse Composition
Part II: The Essential Structure of Finite Being:
1. Substance- Accident Composition
2. Prime Matter and Substantial Form (change is included in these two)
Part III: From Finite Being to Uncreated Being:
1. Introduction (Anselm, etc.)
2. Arguments in Earlier Writings
3. The Five Ways
4. Quidditative Knowledge of God and Analogical Knowledge
5. Concluding Remarks
One of the special merits of the book is that Wippel gives us not only his own
exposition-and interpretation, where controverted-ofThomas's texts, but also
his own judgment on the significant controversies over them now going on
among contemporary Thomists, always in his own characteristic courteous,
objective, and carefully balanced style. Thus in the Introduction he shows that
the subject matter of metaphysics for Thomas is ens commune, or the whole
community of finite beings as available to our natural knowledge. God is not
included directly in this subject matter, since he is knowable to us not directly
but only through his finite effects; he enters in, however, as the ultimate cause
of the whole order of finite beings, and therefore is the capstone of our human
metaphysics itself. Wippel takes his stand in the often hotly debated controversy
as to whether the existence of God as immaterial must first be proved in the
philosophy of nature (as the Aristotelian Prime Mover) before we can begin
metaphysics, as has been held by one tradition of very Aristotelian-inspired
Dominicans. He shows that despite the fact that Thomas often speaks this way
in Aristotelian contexts, his own exposition of the nature and structure of
metaphysics goes beyond the somewhat ambivalent position of Aristotle to show
how metaphysics has its own autonomous structure, and concludes by
demonstrating the existence of God from his finite effects within the structure
of metaphysics iself. This is an important conclusion for the authentic
understanding-and presentation-of Thomistic metaphysics today, and I think
Wippel has made a convincing case for it.
In part 2, in the section on essence-esse composition, the most important
single conclusion, to my mind, that emerges from Wippel's long and careful
exegesis of all the relevant texts on the real distinction is that, contrary to certain
other contemporary Thomists (including, I believe, Joseph Owens), the essenceesse distinction in St. Thomas does not presuppose the existence of God as
already established, but can be validly argued for on intrinsic metaphysical
grounds of its own. Even though Aquinas does often start off with God and
argue to the real distinction, the nerve of the argument does not require this. It
works equally well even if one expresses it in hypothetical terms: if there were
one being whose essence were identical with its act of esse, then all other real

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beings would have to have a distinct limiting essence in order to be distinct from
it; and since there are in fact many distinct real beings, then all save possibly one
must have an esse plus a diverse limiting essence in order for them to be distinct
from each other.
The generalized form of the argument is this: given any two actually existing
beings, at least one of them must have a composition of esse and limiting essence
in order to be distinct from the other. Among all the various arguments Thomas
uses for the real distinction, the above turns out more and more, as his thought
matures, to be the preferred structure underlining his texts. I think Wippel is
right on the money here. His treatment of this and a number of other disputed
interpretations shows dearly that he is no mere neutral repeater of Thomas
himself but an astute metaphysical thinker in his own right.
Wippel is willing to admit that Thomas occasionally changed his position
significantly as his thought matured. A clear example is his solution to the
problem of the principle of individuation of individuals within the same species
(chap. 9, sect. 4). Wippel maintains that in Thomas's earlier works this principle
is judged to be matter under indeterminate quantitative dimensions, whereas
beginning with the De Ente and henceforth it is quantity under determinate
dimensions (materia quantitate signata). This also seems to me definitely the
better philosophical solution in its own right.
With regard to the arguments for the existence of God, Wippel works his way
carefully through all the relevant texts of the earlier works, then focuses in a
separate chapter on the Five Ways. His presentation of the progression of
thought through the succession of texts is especially helpful. What impressed me
most here was the honesty of John Wippel, not just as a disciple of St. Thomas,
but as an objective scholar and philosopher in his own right. He is not afraid to
indicate that in at least two places in the Five Ways the argument, or part of an
argument, as actually put forth in the text is of dubious validity or simply not
philosophically evident as it stands. This occurs precisely in the two most
controverted arguments among the Five Ways, namely, (1) the first part of the
Third Way, arguing from beings that are generated and corrupted (if all beings
were such, then at some time in the past all together did not exist, and then
nothing would exist today); and (2) the first part of the Fourth Way, where it is
asserted that wherever there is found gradation in the levels of being of being of
a given perfection, such as ontological truth or being, there must exist a
maximum in the same order, which is then the cause of all the others in the same
genus; hence there must be a maximum in the order of being itself, which must
then be the cause of all other beings. The well-known difficulty in the Third Way
is how to pass from the fact that each one of such contingent beings at some time
does not exist to the conclusion that at some time (aliquando) all together did
not exist. Wippel sees no way that this argument can be made to work unless it
is equated with the earlier argument in the Summa contra Gentiles (ScG I, c. 15),
as a number of commentators in fact do. The latter is indeed a valid argument,
but a close textual reading indicates that it must be considered an irreducibly

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distinct argument-unless, of course, one is willing to admit that St. Thomas
himself has written an extremely convoluted and carelessly worded text
(aliquando would have to mean "always") that could have been expressed in
much simpler and clearer terms: for example, "Lacking an adequate causal
source, none of these contingent beings could ever have begun to exist at all;
there would always [not just 'at some time'] have been nothing." I think Wippel
is entirely correct here in his reading and judgment on the actual text of the
Third Way as it stands.
In the second case, the difficulty is that the argument in the Fourth Way first
concludes directly to a maximum from the mere fact of higher and lower grades
of perfection in being; then this maximum is declared to be the efficient cause
of all others in the same genus, on the authority of a text of Aristotle in book 2
of the Metaphysics.Presumably efficient causality is not the operative principle
in the first part of the argument as it stands, but only comes in the second part.
But as Wippel correctly points out, in his realistic metaphysics Thomas ordinarily
passes from finite degrees of perfection in being to a maximum, which must itself
be infinite, only through the mediation of efficient causality (a finite being needs
an efficient cause to explain why it actually possesses this limited mode of being
and not some other one). It is not possible to pass directly through exemplary
causality alone to a maximum, unless the framework of efficient causality is first
presupposed. Furthermore, there is no way of justifying a general principle that
in every genus where there are degrees of perfection there must always be a
maximum in that same genus. This adage was widely and uncritically accepted
among thirteenth-century thinkers on the authority of Aristotle's text. Thus there
was a maximum in the genus of animals, of jewels (the pearl), of flowers, of heat,
of light, etc. Saint Thomas seems to refer to this principle as well known,
without further jusification needed. But it is obviously a highly dubious principle,
at least if the maximum is taken as really existing and not just ideal. It is easy
enough to fix up the argument by inserting efficient causality as the nerve of the
ascent from finite to maximum in the first part, with no second part needed. But
that is not what Thomas actually does. Wippel rightly judges that the text does
not contain sufficient evidence for validity as it now stands; the proper order is
reversed.
Wippel stops here. He does not go on to mention how Thomas came to
follow this strange order, which would partly excuse Thomas. The trouble arises
from the fact that both Thomas and other thirteenth-century writers were relying
on a serious mistranslation of Aristotle's text, reversing its proper order. As all
standard modern translations clearly show, what Aristotle actually said was:
"That which is the cause of all in a genus is the maximum in that genus," where
the maximum follows from the causality, not the opposite, as in the older
translation. The remarkable thing is that when Thomas finally gets the later,
more accurate translation of William of Moerbeke and comments explicitly on
the same text, he gets it right! Unfortunately Thomas never goes back to revise

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the Fourth Way or inform us of the mistranslation. Still, he should never have
allowed himself to accept uncritically this dubious adage in the first place.
Both of the above cases, where Wippel does not hesitate to be quietly critical
of the validity of some of Aquinas's arguments, bear impressive witness, it seems
to me, to Wippel's primary dedication to scholarly objectivity in textual
interpretation and to his own independent metaphysical astuteness.
Lastly, the reader should note that Wippel has deliberately omitted full
treatment of the philosophy of God. He has treated the basic ascent from finite
being to infinite being, together with a few key attributes of God such as
simplicity, unicity, and infinity, and how we get to know God by analogy, but
not all the philosophically accessible attributes, and in particular not the divine
mode of providence and governance of the created world, including such muchdebated topics as God's knowledge of free future actions. I think we would all
be keenly interested in how Wippel would handle such questions, but he has
judged that this would lengthen beyond measure an already unusually thick
volume.
The one topic that surprised and somewhat disappointed me, by its extremely
brief treatment, is that of the transcendental properties: of being as one, true
(intelligible), good, and beautiful. Only three pages are given to it, and none to
beauty (admittedly, there is a debate among Thomists whether beauty is a
distinct transcendental property belonging to all beings, including God). Some
Thomistic scholars like Jan Aertsen consider this "Treatise on the
Transcendentals" to be the central pillar of all medieval metaphysics, including
that of Thomas. I think myself this is going too far as regards St. Thomas, at least
in view of the modest amount of textual attention he pays to it, though it is of
profound importance in itself and is pervasively presupposed all through
Thomas's work.
We should be more than grateful for what Wippel has given us: a rich and
reliable treasury of Thomistic scholarship on the key themes of Thomas's
metaphysical thought that will remain an irreplaceable resource tool for
Thomistic scholars for many years to come.
W. NORRIS CLARKE, S.J.
Fordham University
Bronx, New York

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Facing History: A Different Thomas Aquinas. By Leonard E. Boyle, 0. P. With
an Introduction by J.-P. Torrell, O.P. Textes et Etudes du Moyen Age, 13.
Louvain-La-Neuve: Federation Internationale des Instituts d'Etudes
Medievales, 2000. Pp. xxxiv + 170 (paper).

As the great Dominican medievalist Leonard Boyle struggled against the
ravages of cancer at the end of his life, the project that was dearest to him was
the compilation of his writings on Thomas Aquinas. While he did not live long
enough to see that dream come to fruition, we are fortunate enough to see the
fruits in this collection from the International Federation of Institutes of
Medieval Studies (of which Boyle was the founding President).
The
chronologically arranged essays span some twenty-five years (1974-1999) and
specialists in Aquinas have probably already read them along the way.
Nevertheless, their collection into one volume provides a whole that illuminates
the parts in new ways, especially with the aid of Jean-Pierre Torrell's masterful
"Introduction." Taken as a whole, Boyle's studies shed light on the meaning of
his life as a medievalist and a Dominican, the mission and spirituality of the
Dominican Order, the Church in the thirteenth-century, and especially the
thought of Thomas Aquinas. As the title indicates, what emerges from Boyle's
essays is a different picture of Thomas Aquinas from the one often presupposed
by his interpreters. Instead of an isolated, insulated, abstract, university
intellectual, Boyle discloses to us the historical Thomas Aquinas: a Dominican
friar whose theological work was animated and finalized by the Order's charge
from the Church to engage in the cura animarum through the preaching of the
Word and the hearing of confessions.
The earliest essay, "The De regno and the Two Powers," is a study in how to
read a medieval work in context, both internal and external. In the respectful
way characteristic of all his work, Boyle takes issue with I. T. Eschmann's claim
that the De regno cannot be an authentic work of Aquinas because it contradicts
the Sentences on the relationship between the spiritual and temporal powers.
According to Eschmann, whereas the Sentences reflects the broadly Gelasian
dualism whereby the secular and the ecclesiastical have original imperia in their
own orders regarding distinct ends (the civic good and eternal salvation
respectively), the De regno supposedly argues for theological Gregorianism
because it attributes both the potestas sacerdotalis and saecularis to the Church.
Boyle's case against Eschmann is based on reading the apparently problematic
text of chapter fourteen of the De regno against the larger context of the work.
When read in this way, and taking into consideration that the question at issue
in the De regno is not the same as in the Sentences (the former concerns the
limits of secular power by spiritual power while the latter considers the problem
of conflicting obediences), the De regno reflects the consistent teaching of
Aquinas: the secular power has its own intrinsic end and potestas, but it is always
subordinate to the spiritual power and so must defer to papal power when it
comes to what pertains to salvation. Boyle concludes by showing that his own
reading of Aquinas has external corroboration in John of Paris.

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"The Quodlibets of St. Thomas and Pastoral Care" emphasizes one of the
central themes in Boyle's oeuvre: pastoral care of souls as the motivation for
theology. Quodlibetal sessions were academic free-for-all debates held biannually in Advent and Lent. They tested first the bachelors in the disputatio,
and then the masters in the determinatio; what we have in written form are
refined determinatios. What interests Boyle primarily is how these works reflect
the contemporary concerns of the audience posing the questions. A survey of the
quodlibetal literature contemporaneous with Aquinas reveals a surprising
preoccupation with the pastoral care of souls. Boyle provides copious and
intriguing examples of the contents of quodlibets, showing that they often look
more like casus books on practical theology than speculative treatises.
An
examination of the Quodlibets of Aquinas reflects that same pastoral concern;
nearly all of his sessions contain some pastoral questions, especially during his
second Parisian period. Boyle shows how Aquinas himself explains why such
concerns belong to the task of theology in Quodlibet 1, 7, 2: "Teachers of
theology function like the principal craftsmen of the spiritual edifice who inquire
and teach others how to procure the salvation of souls." Teaching theology is
a higher activity than simple pastoral care of souls because "it is better to educate
in what pertains to salvation those who can profit both themselves and others,
than simpler people who can only profit themselves." Bishops and theologians
are the skilled workers, while those engaged in direct pastoral care are like
manual laborers. As Boyle indicates in the next selection, the moral teaching of
Aquinas in his Quodlibets and the Secunda-Secundae would have a long but
largely indirect influence on the pastoral care of souls through the medium of the
popular Summa confessorum of John of Freibourg. From its earliest days, the
Dominican Order had produced a rich literature of practical manuals dedicated
to the pastoral care of souls; the most influential of these had been Raymond of
Penyafort's Summa de casibus. john of Freiburg realized that Raymond's work
needed to be revised canonically and especially theologically. Hence he reset
Raymond's work within the context of a more systematic presentation of moral
theology drawn from Ulrich Engelbrecht, Albert the Great, Peter of T arentaise,
and especially Thomas Aquinas. The Summa confessorum was destined to be the
most influential practical and popular treatment of moral theology until 1500,
and Boyle's account of its influence through the ages displays his extraordinary
ability to detect literary traces in the tradition of pastoral literature.
Boyle's most important work on Aquinas is the justly-celebrated 1983 "The
Setting of the Summa theologiae of Saint Thomas" and in slightly revised form
it is the heart of the collection. The setting in question is the twofold mission of
the Dominican Order: to preach and to hear confessions. To those ends, the
Order immediately began to produce literature to aid the fratres communes, the
average Dominican charged with pastoral care of souls without extensive
theological training in either a studium generate or even a provincial studium, in
the pastoral care of souls. It was the special responsibility of conventual lectors
to oversee the ongoing theological education of their brethren, especially with
respect to "useful and intelligible matters." Thomas Aquinas assumed this role
at Orvieto from 1261-1265, where he must surely have had the occasion to

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experience first-hand the problems inherent in an approach to theology
dominated by practical concerns.
It is Boyle's central hypothesis that
dissatisfaction with this kind of theological training motivated Thomas Aquinas
to attempt something new in his Summa theologiae. Having been given carte
blanche by the Roman province to set up a studium program according to his
own lights, Aquinas set out to broaden the narrow tradition of Dominican
pastoral training by setting moral theology in its larger context. While he
initially thought to remedy the narrowness by taking his students through Book
I of the Sentences, he came to realize that his vision of a revitalized Dominican
theological training would require him to compose his own textbook according
to his own theological vision. So when Thomas famously complains in the
prologue to the Summa about the inadequacy for incipientes of the current
practice of teaching and the texts used, he is complaining primarily about the
practices of the Dominican Order. The Summa theologiae is Thomas's attempt
to set Dominican practical theological training within the larger whole of
theology, and the tenacity with which Thomas pursued this project until the end
of his life despite other pressing tasks is a testimony to how much it meant to
him. Rather ironically, however, it seems that Thomas's overarching purpose
was not appreciated even by his own confreres. For soon the "moral part" of the
Summa, the Secunda Pars in general and the Secunda-Secundae in particular,
were detached from their larger context and circulated independently. The
Secunda-Secundae is something of summa de virtutibus et vitiis in its own right,
since Thomas consciously attempted to provide an improved alternative to the
extant works of the same genre (e.g. William Peraldus), and soon it was
circulating on its own as such. As Boyle documents, the extant manuscripts of
the Summa reveal that it was rarely found as an integral unity and that the
Secunda-secundae is by far the most extant part. So much for the integrated
vision, even among Dominicans.
The following three selections return to closer textual analysis. First, there
is a manuscript of Aquinas's commentary on Book I of the Sentences that has
several marginal references to "Alia lectura fratris thome." The marginal
annotations constitute a kind of commentary reflecting differences with the text
that are close to parallel passages in the later works of Aquinas. Dondaine
concluded that these annotations do not constitute good evidence for a second
or Roman commentary by Aquinas himself on the Sentences. Boyle disagrees,
arguing ingeniously that the alia lectura is actually a reference to Thomas's
original commentary on the Sentences by someone (perhaps Jacobus Raynucci)
in possession of a reportatio of the later Roman commentary who is trying to
correlate it with the text of the Parisian commentary. The parallels with passages
from the Compendium theologiae are explained by postulating the Roman
commentary as the source of the former. Torrell expresses serious reservations
about Boyle's hypothesis, however, since there is at least once instance where a
claim made in the annotations (regarding the possibility of establishing on
rational grounds the plurality of persons in the Trinity) does not cohere with a
contemporaneous work of Aquinas; until all of the annotations are published and
checked against the parallel passages in Aquinas, T orrell's caution seems prudent.

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With respect to "Thomas Aquinas and the Duchess of Brabant", there can be no
serious question that Boyle has settled the mystery of the addressee of Thomas's
brief Epistola ad ducissam Brahantiae concerning such matters as the treatment
of Jews, taxes in general, and the sale of offices. Boyle expertly demonstrates by
internal and external evidence that neither of the usual suspects, Adelaide of
Burgundy and Margaret of France, could be the addressee.
The internal
evidence is twofold: Thomas's farewell wish that the duchess might rule even
longer (per longiora tempora) and his address to her as ruling in her own right
(potentia vestm, dominatio vestra). These remarks would not be appropriate in
a letter to either Adelaide or Margaret, since neither ruled in her own right and
so could not be wished a longer rule. Boyle therefore returns to an older
tradition (from Tolomeo de Lucca) that identifies the addressee as the Countess
of Flanders, Margaret of Constantinople, who ruled in her own right from 124 51278 and was a well-known patron of the Dominicans. As further external
evidence of her interest in such matters, Boyle notes that Margaret solicited a
letter from the Franciscans in the person of John of Pecham on the same set of
topics. The final piece of paleographical art is an analysis of "An Autograph of
St. Thomas at Salerno."
Thomas copied out five of his master Albert's
commentaries on Pseudo-Dionysius while a student at Cologne and Paris. A
fragment of one of those autographs eventually became ensconced in a reliquary
in the Museo de Duomo in Salerno. Boyle's analysis of this fragment leads him
into the larger question of the original purpose of Thomas in copying Albert's
texts. Gils and Shooner had earlier argued that Thomas made the copies at the
direction of Albert to serve as exemplars at the stationers. Boyle argues that this
is highly unlikely for two reasons: first, Aquinas's handwriting is so poor (littera
inintelligibilis) that he is an unlikely candidate to produce an exemplar; second,
the many errors in his copy do not show up in later versions, so it is highly
unlikely to be their source. Boyle concludes that Thomas made the copies for his
own use, following the pecia form already in practice at Paris.
The final and crowning piece in the collection is the French version of an
address that Boyle originally gave in April of 1999, only a few months before he
died, to fellow Dominicans at a symposium on Thomism at River Forest in
versmn
Chicago: "St. Thomas d'Aquin et le troisieme millenaire." (The
was to be published elsewhere, but as yet it is only available on the web at
www.op.org.) Torrell aptly describes it as a kind of
testament," and
it has the feel of a family valedictory.
begins with a reference to
interpretation of Jesus's encounter with the Samaritan woman in his
Commentary on the Gospel of John.
is a model for Dominican preaching
in the way that he gently reaches out to her. In response to her encounter with
the Word, she becomes the first gentile apostle and a model for all those who
follow the vita apostolica. As soon as she understood what Jesus had to say, she
of
in order to preach
immediately and excitedly left everything (her
the good news to the rest of her village. Boyle remarks that this sequence must
be paradigmatic for Dominicans: first, encounter with the Word; second,
to others--Contemplare et aliis
contemplative appropriation; then
tradere. Once again, Boyle stresses his leitmotif of
the work of

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Aquinas within the pastoral mission of the Order and indeed the whole Church.
For the novelty of the Dominican charge to aid the bishops through preaching
and hearing confessions bears witness to a truth too little recognized about the
thirteenth-century: it was one of the greatest intellectual centuries in the history
of the Church, but it was also "truly the first century in the life of the Church in
which a general sensibility for pastoral concerns manifested itself"(l48). When
it comes to the intellectual work of the Dominican Order, the thirteenth-century
was one of its greatest precisely because it was at the service of that pastoral
concern. The intellectual output of the Dominican Order was directed precisely
to aid in the pastoral care of souls. This was especially true of its theological
work, since it was an attempt by the more educated members of the Order to aid
the fratres communes in their pastoral labors. Dominican theologians passed on
to others what they themselves first contemplated and studied for the sake of the
salvation of souls. Indeed, as Boyle claims in the case of Aquinas, it would be
wrong to describe his theology as at the service of the cura animarum in some
extrinsic sense, but rather in an intrinsic sense: it is theology precisely as cura
animarum. Everything that Aquinas ever read, studied, and wrote was with this
end in view; this was the common vision of the purpose of study in the
Dominican Order. Hence every Dominican convent ought to constitute what
Aquinas describes as a societas studii at the service of the care of souls where
what binds the community together as its ongoing source is a common love of
the Word contemplated. Eventually the Samaritan woman had to accept the
truth that her role as apostle had a limited time-span when the members of her
village went to Jesus on their own. Boyle finds in her experience a paradigm for
Dominican preachers: they must labor with the acknowledgment that they are
inadequate instruments of a Truth that surpasses all that the human mind can
compass this side of the veil and who will inevitably be superseded by others.
Indeed, they must even face the possibility of rejection by others as Aquinas did.
Boyle reminds Dominicans that they cannot make Thomas's achievement into an
idol or forget his ultimate purpose in writing. Dominicans must study for the
sake of the care of souls so that they can preach an intelligent and contemplative
word which will always fall short of the Word.
I was blessed to be present when Boyle gave this last address, and it moved me
deeply. It was not just because it was sorrowful to see him so frail. It was also
because he articulated for me and all the Dominicans present the truth about
Thomas Aquinas and the meaning of the intellectual apostolate of the Order by
revealing, in the end, the truth of his own life. For his fellow Dominicans,
Boyle's work recalls us to our original roots and our final end. For all those who
would read and understand Thomas Aquinas, Boyle's work recalls a different
Thomas Aquinas, the real Thomas Aquinas: Friar Preacher theologian at the
service of the Church in the cura animarum.
BRIAN J. SHANLEY, 0.P.

The Catholic University of America
Washington, D. C.

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159

Introduction to Phenomenology. By

ROBERT SOKOLOWSKI. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2000 Pp. 238. $49.95 (cloth), $18.95
(paper). ISBN 0-521-66099-8 (doth), 0-521-66792-5 (paper).

This thoughtful and beautifully crafted book introduces the reader to the
fundamental themes of phenomenology. It focuses principally on the work of
Edmund Husserl but also discusses the subsequent phenomenological tradition
and situates this tradition within a broader philosophical context. For many
years, scholars and teachers have lamented the fact that there existed no readable
and reliable introduction to phenomenology that one might recommend to
students (both graduate and undergraduate) and to colleagues from other
philosophical traditions. Some earlier attempts to provide such an introduction
have either relied on excessively technical jargon or misinterpreted key aspects
of Husserl's thought. By contrast, Sokolowski writes with admirable clarity and
offers a coherent and convincing account of Husserl's philosophical method. In
short, he gets it right and says it well. Indeed, he manages to communicate the
basic insights of phenomenology much more dearly and forcefully than did
Husserl himself.
Husserl's principal contribution to philosophy was his retrieval and development of the concept of intentionality. He often described phenomenology as a
response to the problems created by the modern account of mind. Modern
philosophers interpreted the mind as an inner space set off from the rest of
nature, a "cabinet" (Locke's metaphor) filled with impressions and concepts.
Sokolowski calls attention to a phrase in Samuel Beckett's novel Murphy that
perfectly captures the "egocentric predicament" of modern philosophy:
"Murphy's mind pictured itself as a hollow sphere, hermetically closed to the
universe without." Against this modern view Husserl reasserted and revitalized
the pre-modern thesis that our cognitive acts are intentional, that is, that they
reach out beyond sense data to things in the world. When we think or speak
about things in their absence, and when we perceive them, we deal with those
things and not with mental substitutes.
The opening chapters describe the formal structures of phenomenology:
presence and absence, parts and wholes, identity in manifolds. Commenting on
the first of these themes, Sokolowski observes that many readers of Husserl are
initially skeptical of his claim that we truly know what is absent, We are so
accustomed to thinking of cognition in terms of the modern metaphor for mind
that we feel obliged to require something present, such as an image or a concept,
as the immediate target of our signitive intentions of absent things. But Husserl
insists on our capacity to intend what is absent precisely because this is what
constitutes us as rational beings who can name things as identities across
presence and absence and thus communicate through words rather than
through signals. He also deals effectively with the objection that we sometimes
experience hallucinations and often make mistakes in our perceptual encounters
with the world. Husserl's analysis of perception highlights its perspectival
character. Our perceptions are always partial. The perceived thing is,

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a mix of the present and the absent. This situation makes for the possibility of
error but also permits correction of error. Sokolowski illustrates Husserl's
account of how presence and absence function in manifold ways by developing
several instructive examples: the perception of a cube; the multiple presentations
of the Normandy invasion as lived in first-hand experience, as later remembered,
as depicted in films; a baseball game as first anticipated and then experienced;
the same Mozart symphony interpreted by different orchestras; our selfawareness in the flow of interior time.
There follows a discussion of Husserl's distinction between the "natural
attitude," in which we are preoccupied by things in the world, and the
"phenomenological attitude" in which we reflect on the intentions at work in the
natural attitude and on the objective correlates of those intentions. We achieve
the latter point of view by employing a method that Husserl calls "reduction"
which is achieved by suspending or neutralizing our natural attitude of belief in
the reality of things and the world. Nothing in Husserl's work has been more
misunderstood than this philosophical method. The purpose of this procedure
is not to call natural convictions into doubt but rather simply to achieve a
distance that will enable us to reflect upon them. The method is called
"reduction" for it "leads back" from lived acts and attitudes to reflective
consideration of those acts and attitudes. For example, we step back from our
participation in the positing of things as real, but continue to maintain that
positing as something upon which we reflect. The same things in the world are
still there for our consideration, but the change in focus initiated by the
reduction now permits us to appreciate them as intended objects. We now notice
them precisely as perceived, as judged, as posited, as doubted, as imagined.
Phenomenology thus helps us to notice and highlight the accomplishments that
we take for granted in the natural attitude. It also helps us to retrieve the ancient
and medieval sense that the disclosure of things, their truthfulness, is an aspect
of their being. Here, and indeed throughout the book, Sokolowski emphasizes
the continuity between the approaches of Husserl and Heidegger.
Sokolowski next shows how phenomenological descriptions elucidate three
domains of experience: the internal field of memory and imagination; the
external field of perceived objects, pictures, and symbols; and the intellectual
field of categorial objects. Each of these studies is brilliantly executed.
Sokolowski everywhere sweeps aside the superfluous mental entities that modern
philosophers have invented in order to explain how inner images relate to outer
objects. He writes with such lucidity that one sometimes has the impression that
the matters in question must surely be more complicated. In fact, however, this
is only because we are still under the spell of the modern metaphor for mind and
still accustomed to the cumbersome modern theories of how images and
concepts function as mediators between mind and reality.
Consider, for example, the discussion of Husserl's revolutionary account of
the status of concepts and propositions, a theme that had been almost totally
neglected in earlier introductions to phenomenology. Husserl explicitly rejects

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the modern view that concepts and propositions serve as mediating entities that
somehow link speech acts to their intentional referents. When we think, we do
not rearrange or "work up" sense data and ideas; we do not use concepts as
special sorts of transparent signs; we directly articulate the world and things in
it. Concepts and propositions appear only when we change our focus from some
part of the world to the way in which that part of the world is being articulated.
When we consider a judgment or proposition we are still referring to some state
of affairs in the world, but to this state of affairs precisely as it has been
articulated, as it has been proposed by someone, whether that someone be myself
or someone else. A proposition, therefore, is simply a state of affairs taken as
articulated. Sokolowski suggests that the tendency to regard concepts and
propositions as reified intermediaries is probably due to a confusion between
object-oriented and reflective stances of consciousness. We move easily back and
forth between ontological and propositional attitudes. The very mobility of our
consciousness inculcates a forgetfulness of the change in attitude requisite for the
manifestation of concepts and propositions. Concepts and propositions then
easily come to be thought of as having a status analogous to things and facts. We
thus come to think of them as separate entities situated in some psychic or
semantic realm.
Consider also the discussion of categorial objects, that is, states of affairs that
emerge as a result of our intellectual articulations. Such higher-level objects are
not in the world in the same way as are simple things. When we constitute
categorial objects, we introduce the syntactical connections made possible by
language. The things and situations we perceive are thus brought into the field
of rationality where logical connections form a network rather than a merely
perceptual flow. Sokolowski emphasizes that this elevation of perceived objects
and situations into the "space of reasons" does not distort or subjectivize things
in the world. We still have to submit to the way things disclose themselves.
Indeed, our speech acts make possible a more complete and intersubjectively
verifiable manifestation of things. Our speech thus brings about "the triumph of
objectivity." The discussion of these themes is designed to help the reader who
is more familiar with the tradition of analytic philosophy to understand how
phenomenology addresses topics also explored by Frege and Wittgenstein.
Husserl observes that there could be no sense of self-identity if we were not
beings whose mode of existence is temporal. His account of the different levels
of time-consciousness is notoriously
and difficult to comprehend. He
claims that the "living
includes within its span a sense of lingering
"trailing off") and of "coming into presence" which gives us our most primitive
sense of past and future. Sokolowski elucidates what Husserl means by inviting
us to consider what experience would be like if it were made up of a succession
of "nows" that followed one another like frames of a film. If this were the case,
our experience would be nothing but a succession of momentary flashes without
any sense of continuity. Husserl also calls attention to our "dual status" as
empirical entities within the world and as "transcendental centers of disclosure"

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to whom the world is manifested. Sokolowski concretizes this analysis by giving
examples of how our transcendental status is activated whenever we recognize
ourselves as agents of reason and truth, as rational beings belonging to what Kant
called "the kingdom of ends." When we use the words "I think" or "I believe"
in a way that signals public commitment to a truth claim, we enter into the realm
of rationality and thus become responsible agents of truth. Self-identity,
therefore, is more than a mere continuity in conscious life. Its higher forms
require the taking of positions and the accepting of responsibility.
Sokolowski next develops another neglected theme in Husserl's work, his
distinction between two types of truth: truth as correctness and truth as actual
presence. Truth as correctness occurs when a proposition is verified by matching
it to the relevant intuited state of affairs. Truth as actual presence is simply the
display of a state of affairs. The latter mode of truth is more fundamental and
often occurs without being preceded by any focus on a proposition. Sokolowski
also points out that Husserl interprets evidence as an active process, a bringing
about of truth, an "evidencing." Husserl's emphasis on disclosure as the principal
condition of truth is designed to counter the emphasis on method and proof first
introduced by Descartes at the beginning of modern era. Descartes found the
notion of evidence understood as disclosure too "unpredictable and
unmasterable" because it made truth dependent on the commonsense judgment
of human beings. His preference for method and proof over evidence testifies to
the modern desire for mastery of everything: "It is an attempt to get disclosure
under our control and to subject it to our wills." This is a perceptive analysis of
one of the central themes of modernity.
Husserl constantly calls attention to the continuity between philosophy and
the accomplishments of prephilosophic life. According to Husserl, philosophy's
role is to clarify but never to replace these accomplishments. Sokolowski reminds
us that the direct intrusion of philosophy into the life of political action and
scientific inquiry usually culminates in ideological excess. He asks us to consider,
for example, the many attempts of philosophers from Plato to Marx to impose
utopian schemes upon everyday life, or the efforts of Bacon and Hobbes to
substitute the power of philosophical reason for commonsense convictions.
These remarks prepare for Sokolowski's comments on modernity and
postmodernity. Modern philosophy is all about mastery, mastery of nature and
mastery of human life. The latest swing of the pendulum has taken philosophy
from this excessive confidence in reason's powers to the equally excessive
postmodern reduction of all truths to pleasing or powerful illusions.
Sokolowski's interpretation of Husserl offers a balanced alternative to these
extremes. Husserl proposes a more modest and hence more viable account of the
role of philosophy. Because of his nonreductive approach to the whole range of
rationality, he is able to clarify how the world of ordinary experience is related
to the world described by the sciences. Science requires special modes of
intentionality but they are still human modes of knowing, indeed all too human.
Sokolowski observes that many recent developments in physics and mathematics
call for a more developed phenomenology of the kinds of intentionality at work

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in such discoveries as the indeterminacy of measurement. This approach makes
it possible to correct confusions about the scope and limits of the practical and
theoretical sciences. It also encourages a more contemplative attitude towards the
natural and the human world which in turn evokes a sense of wonder.
The book concludes with a concise historical survey of the phenomenological
movement, and with some helpful remarks on the relationship between the
phenomenological tradition and Thomistic philosophy.
This is the introduction to phenomenology that many of us have been waiting
for. It offers rich and illuminating insights both for the first-time reader and for
the long-term scholar. It also offers many original and evocative reflections on
the nature and role of philosophy in our time.
RICHARD COBB-STEVENS

Boston College
Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts

Descartes on the Human Soul. By C. F. FOWLER, O.P. Dordrecht: Kluwer
Academic Publishers, 1999. $168.00. Pp.452 (doth). ISBN 0-7923-5473-

7.
Not since Henri Gouhier's La pensee religieusede Descartes (1924) has there
been a study that presents the religious intentions of Descartes so well. Most
studies of the last half-century, while focusing on Descartes's scientific or
epistemological side, neglect his apologetic intentions. Sometimes they take his
religious writings to be a camouflage to hide his ambition to replace
Scholasticism without challenging the religious establishment. Not so Colin
Francis Fowler, O.P., who takes Descartes at his word and studies his attempt to
establish personal immortality by natural reasons. Fowler is not concerned to
review Descartes on the existence of God; he properly concentrates on the
literature that is concerned with showing that some part of our own being
survives this life. This is a splendid piece of research and deserves the attention
of Cartesian scholars, as well as those who study seventeenth-century religious
thought.
Like a movie director who begins his film with the ending and then goes back
to show how the action led to that conclusion, Fowler's opening chapter treats
of Descartes's writing being condemned and placed on the Index librorum
prohibitorum on 20 November 1663. His name was spelled "Renatus des
Chartes" and the decree from the Cardinal Prefect of the Sacred Congregation
of the Index forbade printing, possession, or reading of his works. The next year
the 1644 edition of the Index gave an explicit list of some of his writings, but
failed to mention the Discourse and the Essais of 1637 as well as the Principia

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Philosophiae of 1644. The 1930 edition of the Index spells his name correctly
and includes the all-embracing Opera Philosophica. Fowler reviews the
speculations of Cartesian scholars regarding what provoked the placing of
Descartes's works on the Index, but he does not settle the question. He notes
that it was normal for such a Roman condemnation not to specify the reason for
the censure. He presents an interesting summary of the speculations about the
condemnation, including the opinion of Adrien Baillet ( 1649-1706), Descartes's
original biographer, that Descartes was the victim of Jesuit intrigue. While
Fowler does not go into this it should be remembered that Antoine Arnauld
(1612-1694) was a leading supporter of Descartes, and in the seventeenthcentury controversy between the Jesuits and the Jansenists one way of scoring
against the Port Royal group might be to malign Descartes. This hypothesis
makes more sense than the usual theory that Descartes's attempt to explain the
Eucharist in terms of his mechanistic philosophy was the source of his trouble
with Church authorities; this last guess would hardly bring about a
condemnation of the opera omnia. Fowler's account of this matter indicates the
thoroughness with which he will investigate the whole topic of Descartes and the
personal immortality of the soul. Incidentally, Fowler shows that it is only now
and again that Descartes will use the terms anima or animas; he much preferred
to speak of mens or "mind." This, of course, is only consistent since he
repudiates the Aristotelianism in which "body" and "soul" are the usual
hylomorphic terms.
When Fowler reviews the Scholastic arguments for immortality his Dominican
training makes him a skilled and sympathetic interpreter. He reviews the
controversies over these attempted proofs, showing how the challenges of
Averroism opposed the Thomistic arguments, and why the controversies
surrounding Pietro Pompanazzi's essay on immortality created such a sensation
in the early sixteenth century. Fowler follows this literature down into the
seventeenth century, including the work of Francis Suarez (1588-1648) and
Pierre Gassendi (1592-1655) as well as the more obscure Louis Richeome (15441519) and Antonio Possevino (1533-1611). The knowing way he treats such
Church councils as Vienne (1312) and the Fifth Lateran (1512-1519) is one of
the rewarding features of this book.
All philosophy students know that Descartes tried to establish personal
immortality by claiming that he was "a substance whose whole essence or nature
is simply to think" as he put it in part 4 of the Discourse on the Method. Thus
when it came to his Meditations he was confident that, being a res cogitans
substance, once created he would go on forever. What makes Fowler's study so
valuable is his examination of the many issues this raised for Descartes as he tried
to contend with the objections raised by his friend and agent Fr. Marin
Mersenne (1588-1648), Antoine Arnauld, Pierre Gassendi, and others with
respect to the immortality of an immaterial mind. It is not just the text of
Descartes's books that Fowler handles so well; it is the writings of his
contemporaries, especially the letters which to me confirm the sincerity of
Descartes's apologetic intentions.

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Fowler is very thorough in his study of Descartes's quest to establish personal
immortality by natural reason, apart from appealing to Scripture or the authority
of Church councils. He shows that Descartes before 1637 in his correspondence
was working on metaphysical problems such as the existence of God and
immortality. With the scrapping of the Le Monde project in 1633 when he
learned of Galileo's troubles, Descartes went on in 1637 to publish hisEssais and
the Discourse on the Method in which he indicates the direction his approach was
to take: inferring that he was a thinking substance which had no need of body
in order to be.
Fowler follows this chapter with a review of the Scholastic attempts to prove
personal immortality, taking into account the difficulties faced by
Aristotelianism, with its insistence on the need of the senses for any act of
understanding.
The treatment of immortality in the Meditations receives extensive study since
the subtitle of the first edition (presumably added by Mersenne to whom
Descartes gave authority to see to its printing) promised to establish the existence
of God and the immortality of the soul. In his letter of dedication to the
theologians of the Sorbonne, Descartes made much of his devotion to serving the
cause of religion. After its publication both Mersenne and Arnauld were
disappointed that while Descartes maintained the mind's independence of the
body, he did not give what they had hoped for in the way of a proof of personal
immortality. Descartes's response was to write the Synopsis and to arrange to
have it inserted between dedication and before the first meditation.
Fowler devotes a special chapter to the notion in the Synopsis that "the
human mind is a pure substance." For Descartes every substance is incorruptible
and thus, excepting only the logical possibility of God withdrawing his
concurrence and annihilating it, all substances, once created, are immortal. What
we tend to forget, since we don't think always in Cartesian terms, is that the
whole physical universe, the vast extended body, is a res extensa, and hence
incorruptible. Our own individual bodies, animals, plants, and physical things are
simply modes of this one substance (pace Spinoza) and thus change with the
slightest movement. For Descartes all minds and the one physical substance are
immortal. Again we have here an instance of Fowler's insight in setting forth this
basic Cartesian teaching.
Having stressed the independence of the mind from the body as a substance
in its own right, Descartes was undermining what we call the "unity of man."
The fact that we experience ourselves as one being was explained very well by
the hylomorphic theory of Aristotle and Aquinas, which regarded body and soul
as co-principles of man's being. Descartes was always sophisticated enough to
know what was at stake here, and consequently he always asserted the unity of
man. However, his Dutch disciple Henry Regius (1588-1679), who was more
interested in Cartesianism for its physics than for its metaphysics or apologetics,
wrote of the Cartesian man as only a unity per accidens. For this he was rebuked
by Descartes even before the falling out that came between them in the late
1640s. Again Fowler explores this controversy very expertly, as he does the

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controversy with Gisbert Voetius (1588-1676), the Dutch theologian who
campaigned against Regius and to whom Descartes replied through Regius.
Princess Elizabeth of Bohemia (1618-1680), who was living in exile in the
Netherlands, was another correspondent of Descartes who challenged him to
explain better the interaction of the mind and the body. Descartes was always
consistent in affirming the unity of man but again he failed to come up with any
explanation that would satisfy the princess. At last in a letter of 21May1643 he
blustered that the unity was a primitive notion that was most difficult to explain.
His attempt to defend personal immortality was trumped by his failure to give
a satisfactory account of our obvious unity.
Fowler's book is most readable; the print is large with generous white
spacious margins; the quotations are in English, the French and Latin originals
are in the footnotes at the bottom of the page; references are given to both the
sources in the Adam-Tannery (AD edition and the CMS (Cottingham,
Stoothioff, Murdoch) translations. Whenever a person is first mentioned his or
her dates are given; reference to the writings of the others besides Descartes and
his correspondents (e.g., Mersenne, Gassendi, Arnauld, and others) are well
cited. The bibliographies are divided into "Lexica, lndecas, Bibliographies,"
"Primary Sources," and "Secondary Sources"; the last is quite extensive,
including journal articles as well as relevant books. It is puzzling that the
Haldane/Ross translation, which was the stand-by of graduate students from
1911 until 1985, is mentioned neither here nor in Stephen Gaukroger's
biography of Descartes.
The book is expensive, but no library can afford to be without it. It is an
outstanding study of an essential part of Descartes's work.
DESMONDJ. FITZGERALD
University of San Francisco
San Francisco, California

Morality: The Catholic View. By SERVAIS PINCKAERS, 0.P. Translated by
MICHAEL SHERWIN, 0.P. South Bend, Ind.: St. Augustine's Press, 2001.
Pp. 121. $19.00 (cloth). ISBN 0-890318-56-6.
The publication and subsequent translation of Fr. Servais Pinckaers's Les
Sources de la Morale Chretienne performed an invaluable service for the
professional theological world. Now Fr. Pinckaers's popular precis of that
seminal work, entitled La Morale Catholique, with its attendant skilled
translation by Michael Sherwin, O.P., Morality: The Catholic View, may reach
a broader audience with profound pastoral effect.

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Pinckaers divides his work into two main sections. The first offers a summary
of the history of Catholic moral thought. In this section Pinckaers treats
Scripture, the Fathers, the classical period of high Scholasticism, the period of
the moral manuals, the Second Vatican Council, and the period following upon
the council. Building on his historical narrative, Pinckaers proceeds more
systematically in the second section in which he treats of freedom and happiness,
the Holy Spirit and the new law, and natural law and freedom. This brief review
will tie together three themes that appear in in both the historical and systematic
sections. The first is history and ressourcement. The second is the relationship
between morality as the search for happiness and morality as obligation. The
third is the relationship between the natural law and the New Law.
Pinckaers begins with a tour of history. However, he is not interested in the
history of moral theology for its own sake. The historical synthesis advances
substantive claims about moral theology and the authentic forms of its renewal.
It should be remembered that Pinckaers belongs to that generation of theologians
who came of age nurtured in the promise of ressourcement. These theologians
believed that the Church would be able to read the signs of the times and renew
its mission in the modern world precisely by renewed contact with the Word of
God in all of the modes of its transmission. Thus, the scientific study of the
Scriptures, the Fathers, the liturgy, and the development of the whole theological
tradition of the Church served no merely antiquarian interests but rather would
"equip the saints for the work of ministry" in the midst of their world. In a
phrase, these theologians believed that aggiornamento could only be secured by
ressourcement.
The Second Vatican Council did not exclude moral theology from renewal
and ressourcemnt. Indeed, the council mandated in its Decree on Priestly
Formation (Optatam totius 16) that moral theology be marked by "livelier
contact with the mystery of Christ and the history of salvation," that it be "more
thoroughly nourished by scriptural teaching," and that it stress the obligation of
Christians "to bring forth fruit in charity for the life of the world." Morality: The
Catholic View places the reader in the happy position of reaping the fruits of just
such a program pursued over the course of a lifetime. Pinckaers does indeed
acknowledge the force of the obligation to bring forth fruit in charity for the life
of the world and yet he locates that and all other obligations in the context of
living charity which responds to the good first and only then and in that context
to the obligatory.
As if in obedience to the conviction of the council that Scripture should be at
the heart of a renewed Catholic moral theology, Pinckaers rediscovered the
wider realms of a morality tied to the life-giving impulses and inspirations of the
Holy Spirit. For while Scripture does indeed in a few key texts (notably the
·Decalogue) refer to the key obligations of the chosen people of God, the heart
of Scripture is found in the New Law which is chiefly the presence of the Holy
Spirit in the hearts of believers. The Spirit enlivens and enables believers not only
to meet obligations but to surpass the logic of obligations by living the beatitudes
in inspired friendship with God. The pursuit and deepening of this friendship

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sets believers on the path to happiness. On this path they are nourished by the
whole word of God which deals with so much more than obligations. The
Scriptures show the path to authentic blessedness. They illumine the struggle
with suffering. They explore in both narrative and expository fashion the human
and more-than-human struggle with human and more-than-human twistedness.
They tell the tale of God's wonderful deeds and envelop the reader and hearer
in acts of dazzled praise. Any patient effort to hear the whole word of God
contained in the Scriptures makes it dear that, as Karl Barth once claimed, the
first command of God to man is "thou mayest live" and that the whole Scripture
is proposed for the sake of illuminating the true paths of life. So the council's
instruction to nourish moral teaching with the whole of Scripture actually
supports one of the governing convictions of Pinckaers's work-namely, that
moral teaching is more properly and formally about the pursuit of beatitude than
it is about the detailing of moral norms and obligations.
Pinckaers supports this reading by treating the beatitudes in Matthew's
Gospel and the apostolic paraclesisin Romans 15. He notes that one of the most
persistent and difficult questions of the interpretation of the beatitudes is the
question of their practicability. By seeing the beatitudes as an invitation to a
whole way of life rather than as injunctions of binding legal obligation, one can
experience them as liberating rather than as oppressive. If one follows the
inspired intuition of St Augustine in interpreting the beatitudes in the light of the
gifts of the Spirit set forth in Isaiah 11, one is enabled to see that it is precisely
the gift of the Spirit that makes the journey to heaven already a foretaste of
heaven.
Pinckaers again makes dear the specific nature of Christian ethics by his
discussion of apostolic paraclesisin the Letter to the Romans. Paraclesisis not a
genre that issues specific obligations nor is it a genre that discusses formal rather
than material qualities of good human action. Rather, as apostolic exhortation,
it is a style of moral teaching that presupposes and deepens bonds of friendship
since it hands on and thus communicates a share in the good of friendship with
the Lord. This sharing in the good is personal and authoritative since it is not
finally to be traced to the created structures of the world but rather to the life,
death, and resurrection of Christ communicated in the preaching of the Apostles.
This quality of moral teaching in Romans has sometimes been obscured by
commentaries that artificially divide the letter into doctrinal and moral sections.
This division has thus severed paraclesisfrom its roots in the teaching about the
New Adam, grace, justification, and the gift of the Holy Spirit, making it sound
like mere general uplift instead of the translation of God's election through Jesus
Christ into graced and holy human action. And so the New Testament has no
difficulty in locating the specificity of the way that leads to life in the truth about
Jesus, in the truth about the Father to whom he leads, and the truth of the Spirit
whom they send.
Neither do the Fathers of the Church lose sight of the specificity of the gospel
way of life. The Fathers welcome as their own birthright the treasures of GrecoRoman civilization and yet they, as St. Paul did before them, subject all human

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wisdom to the critique of the cross. Notwithstanding the gospel evaluation of the
prospects for human moral self-sufficiency, the Fathers do share with the pagan
sages the conviction that the moral life is at bottom nothing other than the
search for true happiness and that virtue is that state of character which makes
happiness truly possible.
The difference between the happiness made possible by unaided human
resources and the happiness of the gospel is, of course, the New Law. The New
Law is, as previously stated, the presence of the Holy Spirit in the hearts of
believers, transforming them into true children of God by the gift of grace. This
gift grounds the theological virtues of faith and charity. Here human capacities
for knowing and loving God are transformed by God into a participation in
God's own act of self-knowledge and self-love. These virtues and their
accompanying gifts of the Spirit form the centerpiece of St. Thomas's
understanding of the moral life.
Pinckaers sees St. Thomas through the sources he used rather than through
the tradition he inspired. He appreciates Thomas's roots in the biblical and
patristic emphasis on beatitude. According to Pinckaers, matters changed greatly
and for the worse with the advent of the modern era. Nominalism, explained at
length in Les Sources and barely alluded to in this shorter text, set the stage for
a conception of freedom that detached it from human nature. In a word, for the
nominalists and their successors, we are free in spite of our natural inclinations
to truth and goodness rather than because of them. The freedom of indifference
has sway over any inclination so that we could choose, if we so chose, to will
unhappiness or evil as such. God is supremely free and his will is therefore
constrained by nothing. It follows from this that the moral law is dependent
upon a divine will that is, in the final analysis, arbitrary. The communication of
this will to human beings is made in the genre of commandments. Morai
behavior is defined in terms of free obedience or disobedience to the law of God
and it is the task of conscience to determine whether the law has prescribed a
contemplated course of action, proscribed it, or left it to the discretion and
pleasure of the agent. Law and freedom are structurally adversarial, obligation
is the key moral category, and the readiness to assign presumptive favor to law
or to freedom does nothing to alter the fundamental assumption that God's law
and human freedom are in necessary tension. It is
when God's law is seen
as an ordering wisdom rather than as positivistic legislation, when freedom is
understood as flowing from a spiritual nature which is naturally ordered to the
good and to the true, that God's saving designs for human life are experienced,
not as extrinsic impositions on human freedom, but rather as the liberation of
that freedom for the attaining of its deepest desire.
Understanding freedom in this light can help us to see how freedom is not
frustrated but fulfilled when understood in consort with the most basic
inclinations of the human being. Our freedom is engaged, not smothered, when
it is directed towards the good, the preservation of our being, our inclination to
marry, our necessary orientation to knowledge of the truth, and our inclination
to life together in society. These orientations are simply a way of describing the

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way we were created. Any being who truly had no orientation towards truth
could not be described as human. The same could be said of the other
orientations as well. Nevertheless, it is important to note that these inclinations,
which can be spelled out as moral precepts, are very general. They do not, of
themselves, yield sufficient information or insight to make long experience,
disciplined reflection, or the moral virtue of prudence superfluous for the moral
agent. More importantly for our purposes, however, is the fact that these general
inclinations are open-ended. They imply openness to analogical and graced
modes of realization. The inclination to live in society is on one level an
openness to communal deliberation. It is on another level an openness to live in
God's own society in charity. While Christian revelation offers a critique of a
purely horizontal ethics, it also affirms and deepens all that is authentically
human. Christian morality may demand liberating renunciations that feel for the
moment like impositions from without. But that is only for the moment. The
promise of the gospel is that the same God who redeemed us is the one who
created us for himself. God promises that nothing authentically human is alien
to the gospel.
Father Pinckaers has done the whole Church a great favor in reminding us
that the tensions between the pursuit of moral goodness and the pursuit of
happiness are only apparent and temporary. The heart of the gospel is the
promise of beatitude. The New Law already is at work in our hearts, gradually
suffusing our lives with the only necessary and sufficient condition for true
happiness, which is sanctity.
JOHN CORBETT, 0.P.

Dominican House of Studies
Washington, D.C.

"Guiados por el Espiritu": El Espiritu Santoy el conocimiento moral en Tomas
de Aquino. By JOSE NORIEGA. Roma: Pontificia Universita Lateranense,
2000. Pp. 609. L30,000.
This book is the author's doctoral dissertation from the Pontifical Institute for
Studies on Marriage and the Family at the Lateran University in Rome, directed
by Professor Livio Melina. It is a study well worth taking note of for its content,
its method, and the conclusions the author draws concerning the teaching of St.
Thomas.
The author, Jose Noriega Bastos, is a priest of the Disciples of the Hearts of
Jesus and Mary, currently a professor of Ethics on the Faculty of Theology of
San Damaso at Madrid. The nucleus of the study is the text of Romans 8:14:

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"Qui Spiritu Dei aguntur." Noriega attempts to arrive at an adequate
understanding of how St. Thomas understood the role of the Holy Spirit in the
dynamic of moral knowledge, that is, how the Spirit cooperates with free human
activity, so that man is able to do the good. This is one of the central questions
of Christian morality, which in the post-conciliar era seeks to bridge the chasm
between moral theology, dogmatic theology, and spirituality. Interest in these
themes has led many specialists to examine the thought of St. Thomas, and with
surprising results. Thomas was a pioneer in orienting moral theory from the
point of view of the subject, in describing the exercise of freedom, and in
illustrating the intrinsic presence of the end throughout the course of human
action. He uses the exitus-reditus scheme to penetrate the dynamism that he calls
the "motus rationalis creaturae in Deum." The studies of Pinckaers and Abba,
among others, concerning this topic have been groundbreaking. The ethics of the
person, virtue, the understanding of charity as friendship with God, knowledge
by connaturality, and the primacy of the Spirit, have emerged as new Thomist
horizons. Such studies have made enormous contributions. But there has been
lacking a study of the sources that inspired St. Thomas, and of the evolution that
we find in his writings concerning the role of the Spirit, active within the free
human act. Noriega seeks to fill this void.
This undertaking is difficult and demanding, for it presupposes a critical
knowledge of all the works of Thomas and access to the abundant contemporary
literature. The author has achieved his purpose and presents the material with
mastery, in such a way that the reader, instead of being conscious of its difficulty,
is able to delight in the logical clarity of the discussion. In this review we must
be content to give a synopsis of the book's outline, along with a brief evaluation.
The work opens with an introduction presenting the book as a response to a
lacuna in the field of morals: "one of the most fundamental necessities in
modernity's moral reflection [is caused by] the loss of the conception of the
practical originality of reason as it guides action" (13). Morals concerns human
action, and hence one cannot exclude reason from it, nor the influence of the
Spirit; nor should it be the province solely of technical reason. "For Aquinas, the
influence of the Trinity on practical rationality centers principally around
reflection on the power of the Holy Spirit's influence in the dynamism of human
activity: thus the work attempts to rediscover the originality of this influence on
the concrete action that man constructs upon a singular notitia finis" (14).
Thomas does not always resolve this problem in the same way: in his early works
he has recourse to the relation between prudence and the virtues, whereas later
he prefers to consider the gift of wisdom and its influence on human action.
The book is divided into two parts, the first entitled "Genesis de un
pensamiento" (19-237), and the second, "La slntesis de la Summa Theologiae"
(329-552). "Genesis" is given to detailing Thomas's sources and analyzing the
works he wrote prior to the Summa Theologiae. Thomas took his basic
orientation from the biblical sources, two texts of St. Paul being pivotal: Romans
8: 14, which speaks of the "Spirit's lead," and 1 Corinthians 2: 15, which praises
the judgment of the "spiritual man." The Aristotelian source of greatest influence

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we find in the Nicomachean Ethics, which explains the role of virtue and speaks
of the judgment of the virtuous man in the famous expression "qualis est
unusquisque talis finis videtur ei" ("as a man is, so does the end appear to him"
[3. 7.1l14b l]). Thomas is always in dialogue with Augustine on essential matters,
and he absorbed the latter's distinction between ratio inferior and ratio superior,
and the doctrine of the knowledge of the mission of the Son. Pseudo-Dionysius
left his mark in The Divine Names, in which he speaks of a new mode of
knowledge, "not merely learning but also experiencing" (2.9). Noriega also
numbers among Thomas's sources the Bonaventurian doctrine of wisdom in its
affective dimension. "When Thomas begins his reflection on the moral life and
the proper knowledge of the Christian, he encounters these five different
traditions in a highly polemical environment. He is aware of them all from the
beginning of his academic career, but will not make equal use of them
throughout his life" (56).
A precise analysis of relevant points of each one of Thomas's works makes
clear how all these sources become integrated in his thought. In the Scriptum
super Sententiis, rectitude of action is explained by the circularity of
understanding and will, elevated by the theological virtues (150); in the De
Veritate, rectitude of action is explained by the "correct application" of the
principles of synderesis mediated through conscience; and in De Bono Thomas
insists more on the affective order (192). In the Summa contra Gentiles he
explains the ascending movement of the natural desire to see God, led by divine
governance and reason, and the descending movement of the Holy Spirit's
presence, which makes us "lovers of God," doubly free, from both the law and
sin (225). Noriega dedicates a large portion of his text to the "period between
the two Summas," in which he analyzes the disputed questions De Malo as well
as the commentaries on The Divine Names of Dionysius and the Ethics of
Aristotle. The biblical commentaries on the Gospel of Matthew, the Gospel of
John, and the Pauline epistles merit special attention. In this period Thomas
decisively accentuated the role of affectivity and instinct in acquiring upright
judgment. This affectivity is achieved by the work of the Holy Spirit, the Gift of
God that rectifies appetite by charity and transforms it by friendship with God
(327).
At the end of this long journey Noriega arrives at the synthetic moment,
which he situates in the Summa Theologiae, Thomas's masterwork, which he
began in Rome, continued writing in Paris, and brought to (near) completion in
Naples. The entire Secunda Pars is devoted to moral action. It is here that one
finds Thomas's response to the question, "How does the trinitarian God
intervene in the dynamism proper to ratio practica?" Or, which is the same
thing, "How does God help man to know the good that is to be done?" (338).
God moves and leads man as an internal principle of action, of the infused
virtues and of the gifts, and as external principle who instructs us through the
law and saves us through grace. The development of this synthetic part begins
with the analysis of the finality of human action, since it is the end that initiates
the entire process; it is centered on the complex structure of the act, on actions

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with respect to the passions, and examines the role of love in the action,
preferably the love of friendship and its relation to knowledge of the good. Love
consists of an unio affectus, and is man's radical passion. Grasping the
disposition that love causes in the subject is a key to understanding the bonum
conveniens, since there arises a certain connaturality between the lover and the
thing loved. The human act, in its moral dimension and its elevation by Christian
grace, implies three factors that have decisive influence in moral knowledge: the
virtues, operative habits which perfect the potencies in which they are seated;
charity as friendship with God, which is at once communicatio and mutua
amatio; and finally the gifts of the Holy Spirit, which give to man a superhuman
mode of operation. In order to give an account of the human act and of the
knowledge practical reason affords, Thomas has synthesized his sources in an
original doctrine. The Holy Spirit operates in the graced soul through his gifts,
principal among which is wisdom by which man is "led by the Spirit" and
capacitated to judge the ultimate causes, order his life according to divine
commands, and direct himself toward his end, who is God.
Thomas's teaching on the activity of the Holy Spirit in the moral act is of
decisive importance. He has posed the problem from the point of view of the
subject, and therefore his analysis takes place from within. The cooperation of
God with man and man with God constitutes the circularity of love that
transforms man and renders possible for him a mode of action that is ultra
humanum. Thomas makes use of his diverse sources, without identifying himself
with any one of them, and achieves a true synthesis. "Therefore the wise
Christian, who is the true 'spiritual' man (Pauline tradition) unites in himself the
capacity to judge (Augustinian tradition) and to order [his activities] through
knowledge of the end (Aristotelian tradition) in virtue of a special knowledge of
God (Neoplatonic tradition), while being himself the rule and measure of his
action (Pauline and Aristotelian traditions)" (558-59). The gift of the Holy Spirit
makes human action to be a gift that seeks to share what it possesses. Between
the human subject and the Spirit a unique synergy is produced. Man knows the
end and is attracted to it. God who is love attracts him, and this attraction is
stronger than man's own impulse to tend toward the good. It is in this way that
Christians gain a moral plenitude of operation that is "led by the Spirit," as Paul
describes it (Rom 8: 14 ).
This work deserves attention for its content, its method, its analysis of
sources, the documentation one finds in the notes, and its penetration in the
work of Thomas from the concrete viewpoint of the knowledge had by practical
reason in human operation. Both its merits and its demerits arise from the fact
that it is a doctoral thesis. It has posed the problem of practical reason's
knowledge in moral activity as found in the work of Thomas Aquinas, and has
not only given a satisfactory response, but has made dear Thomas's originality
in this field. Its exposition is dear and adjusted to the topics covered. There is
a constant concern--one might say an obsession--over certain matters, over
arriving at conclusions and giving definitive proofs. The author is much to be
praised for his erudition, for his knowledge of the literature of both the wider

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topic of moral action and the writings of Thomas himself. The indices (of names
and of subjects) and bibliography are first-rate. Thomas the theologian is
presented in his integrity, as master of the spiritual life, who unites the three
wisdoms: philosophical, theological, and the gift of the Spirit. In the era of the
recovery of Christian humanism, this work points out to us in convincing fashion
the somewhat forgotten Thomist path. (Translated by Peter Fegan, O.P.)
ABELARDO LOBATO, 0.P.

Pontificia Academia Sancti Thomae Aquinatis
Rome, Italy