Some random thoughts about Scotus's notion of Powers

In Rep. 2.16, I don't think Scotus is drawing a distinction (rational or formal) between bases and dispositions. Instead, I think he's drawing a distinction between different bases. He's saying something like this: "intellectual and voluntary activity have different bases. The basis for Intellectual activity is a part of the soul that we call 'intellect', and the basis for voluntary activity is a part of the soul that we call 'will'. But these are just two parts of the soul --- two things, so to speak, that are stuck together to make up the soul." It's almost as if we're talking about the right and left halves of the soul, except there are no right and left sides to the soul, since it's immaterial. But we are talking about absolute things/parts/constituents of the soul. 

Of course, Scotus goes on to insist that these two parts are formally distinct from each other, seeing as they are "unitatively contained in the soul." But by that, I think Scotus just means that those two parts are joined so tightly together that the soul wouldn't survive if they were pulled apart. 

So all of that distinction talk in the 2.15 passage is, as I read it, just talk about the distinction between the categorical bases for different activities. Nothing about a distinction between dispositions. It's a little tricky because Scotus _talks_ about powers rather than bases, but as he likes to point out, when he talks about powers in this context, he's really talking about absolute bases (or "immediate bases" I think is how he puts it in Rep. 2.16).  

As for dispositions, I think Scotus rules them out as things or entities of any kind. On his view, there's just no such thing or entity or being as a "power" or "disposition." Of course, we can _ascribe_ powers and dispositions to things. We can say "I have the power to think, raise my arm, and whatnot," and all of that is true. But that's on the level of linguistic/propositional ascription. If we lay ascriptions aside and turn our attention to the things themselves, to the ontology, then we see a different picture. 

On my reading, Scotus would say there's just the categorical basis, i.e., the absolute parts or constituents in the thing we are ascribing the power to. When we say "X has the power P to do Y," that's true if X has the right kind of absolute parts/constituents to do Y. But there's nothing that P would refer to over and above that. So an ascription like "I have the power to raise my arm" is true not because there's me, the right kinds of bones and muscles, and _some other thing/mode_ called a power. The ascription is true simply in virtue of me having the right kind of bones and muscles. 

I think that's the point of Scotus criticizing first Giles/Aquinas and then Henry in the 2.16 passage. He first rules out the view of Giles/Aquinas. Their view is that powers/dispositions are things (qualities) that are really distinct from their absolute bases (soul). As Scotus sees it, powers/dispositions just can't be distinct things over and above their bases. 

"Okay," one might think, "that's fine. So maybe powers/dispositions are somehow _the same_ as their bases. Rather than being distinct entities in their own right, maybe they are the same as their bases, but a different mode of them or something." That's the view of Henry: a power/disposition is really the same as its basis (call the basis X), just in a relative mode. So taken absolutely, X is just the absolute thing (a bit of heat, a substantial form, a lump of matter, or whatever). Taken relatively (with respect to the relevant activity), it is a power. Henry's view is similar to one that's somewhat popular today: all properties are _both_ categorical and dispositional in nature. Henry would probably fall into that camp: parts and constituents are both categorical (when considered in themselves) and dispositional (when considered with respect to the activities that are based on them). 

But Scotus rules out that too. He says: no, a power/disposition can't even be a different _mode_ of the absolute part/constituent. On the contrary, it has to be just the absolute part/constituent. Nothing more. And that, I take it, essentially rules out the reality of dispositions altogether. Scotus is what we might today call a categorical realist: he thinks there really are powers (at the level of ascription), but on the ontological level, there's really nothing more than the categorical bases. To use a modern example: what is the fragility of a wine glass? A categorical realist would say it's really nothing more than the molecular structure: the molecules are made up and joined together in a certain way, and that's all it is to be fragile. 

Aquinas on Powers --- One Interpretation (3)

In the last post, I tried to buttress Aquinas's (alleged) argument that the soul and its powers cannot be one and the same because I always have a soul, whereas I do not always exercise my soul's powers (there are times when I sleep, for instance, when I do not think). I further pointed out in the last post that each of the soul's powers require different circumstances for their actualization, and that provides another reason to say that the soul's powers must be distinct from each other (and, consequently, from the soul itself).

Now, suppose that we grant this. Still we might wonder: what sorts of things are the soul’s powers? According to Aquinas, they are qualities of the soul, perhaps similar to the way that a pale skin color is a quality of Socrates.

Of course, to compare the soul’s powers to the color of Socrates’ skin might suggest that the soul’s powers can be gained and lost, just like the color of Socrates’ skin. After all, Socrates’ skin color can change --- as would happen, say, if he went to the beach and got a tan. So surely the soul’s powers can change too.

But Aquinas rejects this, insisting instead that although the soul’s powers are qualities of the soul, they cannot be gained and lost in the way that Socrates’ skin color can. On the contrary, the soul’s powers are not the sorts of features that can ‘come and go’. Rather, they are permanently attached, so to speak, to the soul itself (so long as the soul exists).

I should note that Aquinas does not, so far as I know, ever offer an argument for the claim that the soul’s powers are qualities. But he did make this claim more than once throughout the course of his career, so I think we can safely assume that Aquinas is firmly committed to the idea that every human soul is accompanied by a set of distinct powers (qualities) that are permanently attached to it (so long as that soul exists).

One could easily take these ideas from Aquinas and generalize them. That is, one could easily insist that any power must be distinct from its basis when the thing that has the power in question also has its basis for any period of time when that power is not exercised. So, that is one interpretation of Aquinas's theory of powers.

Aquinas on Powers - One Interpretation (2)

In the last post, I mentioned that part of me thinks Aquinas's arguments about powers really boil down to a simple argument from identity: if A and B are identical, then anything true of the one must be true of the other, but since this is not the case with my soul and its powers (I always have soul, for instance, but I am not always thinking), it follows that my powers that are based on my soul must be different from my soul itself.

But one could buttress this argument even further. For we might point out that one of the characteristics of powers is that they can only be exercised in particular circumstances. For instance, wine glasses can be broken when they are dropped on a hard floor (in a world consisting only of soft cushiony floors, wine glasses would not break when dropped). Wine glasses might also be broken when they are struck with a swinging baseball bat. And so on.

We might then point out that each power of my soul is no different. Each power of my soul requires a different set of circumstances for its exercise too. For example, compare my power of sight with my power to remember things I have already seen. According to Aquinas, both of these are powers of my soul. However, it would seem that the former power can only be exercised in one set of circumstances (I must have my eyes open, there must be sufficient light, and so forth), whereas the latter power requires an entirely different set of circumstances (e.g., that what I saw before was adequately stored in my memory banks, and so forth).

Consequently, we might make the following inference: since each power of my soul requires a different set of circumstances for its exercise, it follows that each power of my soul must be distinct from every other power of my soul, and from my soul itself. Otherwise, I could not exercise one of my soul’s powers without exercising all of them at the same time. So, one might say, surely it follows that my soul and each of its powers must be distinct from each other.

Aquinas on Powers - One interpretation (1)

Throughout his career, Aquinas maintained that a human soul cannot be identical to its powers. I have translated a number of his arguments for this view (see the previous three posts), but I'm not sure I understand any of those arguments.

Part of me thinks that much of Aquinas's reasoning here boils down to the following simple argument: although I always have a soul as long as I exist, my soul’s powers are exercised only some of the time. For instance, so long as I am alive, I have a soul, but there are times in my life when I do not think, when I do not love, and so on. Consequently, my soul cannot be identical to any of my powers to perform these operations.

This is, of course, a simple argument from identity. That is, if any A and B are identical, then anything true of the one must be true of the other. But since this is not the case with my soul and its powers (for I always have a soul as long as I exist, but I do not always exercise my soul’s powers), Aquinas concludes that they must not be identical. Whatever my soul is then, it must be distinct from my power to think, my power to love, and so on.

Translation: Aquinas on powers 3

Thomas Aquinas
Commentary on the Sentences
Book I, question 4, article 2

Are the powers of the mind its essence?

In response, it should be said that any proper and immediate effect must be proportionate to its cause. Whence, in all things in which the proximate source [principia] of its operation belongs in the genus of substance, its operation is its substance, and this is only true of God. For this reason, he alone does not act through the mediation of a power that differs from his substance. But for every other thing, its operation is an accident, and for this reason, the proximate source of its operation must be an accident too, just as we saw in bodies: the substantial form of fire [for instance] has no operation except through the mediation of its active and passive qualities, which are, as it were, forces or powers of it.

Similarly, I say that no operation comes forth from the mind, since it is a substance, except through the mediation of a power, nor does an operation come forth from a highly developed mental ability except through the mediation of a habit.

But these powers flow from the essence of the mind itself, like certain perfections of the body's parts, the operation of which is effected through the mediation of the body (e.g., the senses, the imagination, and so on), and as certain things that exist in the mind itself, the operation of which does not need the body (e.g., the intellect, will, and other such things).

For this reason, I say that the mind's powers are accidents. They are not common accidents, which flow not from the principles of the species but rather from the principles of the individual. On the contrary, they are proper accidents, which follow from the species and have their origin from its principles. At the same time though, they belong to the integrity of the mind, insofar as the mind is a 'whole made up of powers' [a 'totum potentiale', as Boethius calls it], having a certain perfection of power, which is made up of diverse powers.

Translation: Aquinas on powers 2

Thomas Aquinas
Disputed Questions on the Mind
Article 12
Is the mind the same as its powers?

[Translation note: I translate 'anima' as 'mind', but by that, I do not mean to exclude animal minds. On the contrary, I mean to include both the sentient minds of animals, and the rational minds of humans.]

With regard to this question, it should be said that there are diverse opinions. Some say that the mind is [the same as] its powers, but others deny this, saying that the mind's powers are certain properties of it.

In order to understand the differences between these opinions, I should point out that a power is nothing other than the source [principia] of some operation, be it an operation that is done or an operation that is undergone. But the 'source' I am speaking of is not the agent or recipient [of the operation]. Rather, it is that by which the agent acts or that by which the recipient undergoes [the operation in question]. For just as the builder's skill is the power in the builder by which he builds, so also is the heat in a flame that by which the flame heats [other things], and dryness is the power in a log [by which it is combustible], for things are combustible insofar as they are dry.

Thus, those who postulate that the mind is [the same as] its powers understand this to mean that the very essence of the mind is the immediate source of all the operations of the mind, saying that a human understands through his or her mind, a human senses and [performs] other such operations [through their mind], and the mind is given diverse labels according to the diversity of these operations: [it is called] the 'sense' [or 'sentient power'] insofar as it is the source of sensation, [it is called] the 'intellect' [or 'intellective power'] insofar as it is the source of understanding, and so on for all the other [operations for which the mind is the source]. Whence, we label the heat in a flame as its power to heat, melt, and dry other things because it performs all of these things.

But this opinion cannot stand. First because everything that enacts anything --- and here I mean to refer to the thing which acts --- it does so only insofar as it is actual in the way [in which it acts]. For a flame heats not insofar as it is actually bright, but only insofar as it is hot, and hence every agent brings about something similar to itself. Whence, it is necessary that that by which something acts be considered as the source by which it acts, for it is necessary that each be in conformity. Thus, in book II of the Physics, it is said that the form and the generator are the same in species. Therefore, when that which acts does not pertain to the substantial being of the thing, it is impossible that the source by which it acts is something of the essence of the thing, and this is obvious for natural agents.

For when it comes to generation, a natural agent changes matter into form, and that happens because the matter is first disposed to that form, and eventually the form follows, according to which generation is the terminus of the alteration. It is necessary that, on the part of the agent, that which immediately acts is an accidental form corresponding to the disposition of the matter. But it is necessary that the accidental form acts in virtue of the substantial form, as an instrument of it, so to speak (otherwise, it would not induce a substantial form by acting).

On account of this, the only apparent source of action in the elements are their active and passive qualities, which nevertheless act in virtue of the substantial forms [of the elements]. Consequently, their actions are not directed only to accidental dispositions, but also to substantial forms. For in the making of artifacts, the activity of the instruments are directed at the form intended by the artist.

But if some agent were, by its action, to directly and immediately produce a substance (just as we say of God, who by creating produces the substances of things, and just as Avicenna says of the Agent Intellects, from whom (according to him) the substantial forms of inferior things flow), an agent of this sort would act through its essence, and in that case, its active power would not be distinct from its essence.

But regarding passive powers, it is obvious that a passive power for a substantial act belongs to the genus of substance, and a passive power for an accidental act belongs to the genus of accident --- by reduction (as a principle rather than as a complete species). For every genus is divided into potentiality and actuality. Whence, a human belongs to the genus of substance, and a human's potential whiteness belongs to the genus of quality.

However, it is clear that the powers of the mind, be they active or passive, are not spoken of directly with respect either to something substantial or to something accidental. Similarly, a being that is actually intelligent or sentient is not actually intelligent or sentient in a substantial sense, but rather in an accidental sense, to which the intellect or sense are directed, and similarly, to be large or small, to which the power of growth is directed.

But generative or nutritive powers are directed towards producing or conserving a substance, though through changing matter. Whence, such actions, just like all the other actions of natural agents, come about by a substance through intermediate accidental principles. Whence, the powers of the mind are not [the same as] the very essence of the mind, but rather are properties of it.

Thereafter, it is apparent from this that from the diversity of the mind's actions that they belong to diverse genera, and they cannot be reduced to one immediate principle, for certain of them are actions and certain of them are passions, and other of them differ by further differences, which differences must be attributed to diverse principles.

And so, since the essence of the mind is a single principle, it cannot be the immediate principle of all of its actions. Rather, it must have many diverse powers that correspond to the diversity of its actions. For a power is said to be correlative to its act, whence according to the diversity of actions there must be a diversity of powers.

Hence, the Philosophy says in Ethics VI that when it comes to things that belong to the mind scientifically (i.e., when it comes to those features that we identify by our scientific investigations of the mind), those things belong to the mind necessarily, whereas the things that belong to the mind's ratiocinative features belong to it in a contingent way, and so these two classes of things must be reduced to diverse powers, for things that are necessary and things that are contingent differ in kind.

Translation: Aquinas on powers 1

Thomas Aquinas
Summa Theologiae
Part I, question 77, article 1
Is the mind the same as its power?

In response, it should be said that it is impossible for the essence of the mind to be its power, although some postulate this. For our present purposes, this can be shown in two ways.

First, since potentiality and actuality divide every genus of being, it is necessary that potentiality and actuality refer to the same genus. For this reason, if an act is not in the genus of substance, then the power which is spoken of with respect to that act cannot be in the genus of substance either. However, an operation of the mind is not in the genus of substance, with the sole exception of God, in whom his operation is his substance. Whence, the power of God, which is the source of his operation, is the divine essence itself. But this cannot be true of the mind, nor can it be true for any creature, as I said above when I discussed angels.

Second, that this is impossible for the mind is obvious. For the mind, in terms of its essence, is actual. Thus, if the essence of the mind itself were the immediate source of its operation, it would perform vital operations so long as it were actually existent, just as the mind is always living and actual [so long as it exists].

For insofar as it is a form, it is not an actuality that is ordered to the final act, but it is the ultimate terminus of generation. Whence, even when it exists, it is still in a state of potentiality with respect to some other actuality, and this belongs to it not in terms of its essence, i.e., insofar as it is a form, but rather in terms of its potentiality. In this way, then, the mind, insofar as it stands under its power, is said to be the 'first actuality', and it is ordered to its 'second actuality'.

However, one can easily see that everything which has a mind is not always actually performing its vital operations. Whence, even when the mind is defined as the actuality of a body that has the potential for life, nevertheless, that potentiality is not destroyed by the presence of the mind. It must be the case, then, that the essence of the mind is not the same as its power. For nothing is potential on account of its actuality, insofar as it is actual.

Bodies, Animals, and Minds 13 --- Quote from Ockham

From Quod. 2.11 (Freddoso/Kelley translation, p. 137):

"When a human being or a brute animal dies, numerically the same accidents remain as were there previously; therefore, they have numerically the same subject. The consequence is evident from the fact that an accident does not naturally migrate from subject to subject. But the subject in this case is not primary matter, since if it were, then primary matter would be the immediate recipient of absolute accidents --- which does not seem true. Therefore, some form that was there previously remains, and this form is not the sentient soul. Therefore, it is the [form of] corporeity.

The assumption, viz., that numerically the same accidents are in the living animal and the dead animal, I prove from the fact that if the accidents [of the dead animal] were different, they would at least be the same in species as the accidents of the living animal. This is evident from the fact that they are so similar that a human being is not able to discriminate between them."

Bodies, Animals, and Minds 12 --- Ockham 4

What about the mind? Ockham also thinks that is a distinct thing too. But here, his reasons are theological. Like most Latin-speaking scholastics of his day, Ockham was a Christian, so he believed that the mind (or soul) survives after death.

If I were to die in the next few seconds, my mind would continue to exist, as a free-floating mind of sorts. But the animal in me would not survive, for animals cannot survive without a body. Hence, the mind that is doing all this thinking here, and the animal that is standing here now --- these must be distinct things too, just as the body and the animal that are standing here must be distinct as well.

For Ockham then, there are three distinct things here, and they all occupy the same region of space. There’s a body, there’s an animal, and there’s a mind. And this allows Ockham to easily explain things like why we leave a corpse behind when we die.

On the other hand, Ockham’s view doesn’t do justice to the intuitions that Aquinas heeded, namely the idea that here in this region of space, we normally think that there is just one thing here, namely a living organism who goes by the name of JT. So both Ockham and Aquinas do justice to certain intuitions we have about human beings, but they fail to do justice to all our intuitions.

Bodies, Animals, and Minds 11 --- Ockham 3

However, even though my body must survive my death, Ockham thinks the animal that is standing here right now --- that would not survive my death. When I die, the animal dies too. And again, Ockham thinks we have good reason to think this. When you look at the place where I am now standing, you can clearly see something that is sentient, but if I were to die, nothing sentient would be left.

For Ockham then, it seems obvious that the body standing up here would survive my death, but the animal standing up here would not. And that, thinks Ockham, means that the body and the animal up here cannot be the same thing.

This also captures a deep-seated intuition that we have. We tend to think that if two things are actually one and the same thing, then whatever is true of one must also be true of the other. For example, the great Roman senator Cicero also went by the name Tully. Now, if Cicero and Tully are indeed the very same person, then whatever is true of one must also be true of the other. If Cicero were speaking in the Roman senate at this very moment, then Tully would be too. Conversely, if Cicero were speaking in the senate, but Tully were off drinking at the pub, then we would assume that Cicero and Tully could not be the same person.

So also, thinks Ockham, would this apply to the body and the animal that occupy this region of space where I am now standing. If I were to die in a few seconds, then one of them would end up lying on the floor, but the other one would be gone altogether. So surely the body and the animal you see here cannot be the same thing. Ockham thus concludes that they must be distinct things altogether. For Ockham, there is, in fact, a distinct body and a distinct animal standing up here in this very same spot.

Bodies, Animals, and Minds 10 --- Ockham 2

For Ockham, the fact that my living body and my corpse are so similar implies that they must be the very same body (not different bodies, as Aquinas would say).

This captures another intuition that we have about material objects. When we watch something over a period of time, we assume that if it looks much the same at the beginning and end of that block of time, it must be the same thing.

For instance, a rusty old Jaguar has been sitting in my driveway for the past three years, and it looks much the same now as it did three years ago. I’ve seen it change a little (it’s become more rusty and discolored), but for the most part, it looks very much the same. And I assume that it is, in fact, the very same car. I doubt very much that anybody has stealthily replaced it with another, nearly identical looking car overnight.

We make the same sorts of judgments about most things, including people. We watch our loved ones age, but none of us would think they ever get replaced by nearly identical clones. And the same goes for my corpse. Why would we ever think that it would be a different body from the one that is standing here now? Surely my body survives my death. Or so Ockham would say.

Bodies, Animals, and Minds 9 --- Ockham 1

Aquinas was not the only medieval philosopher around back then, and his view about human beings was not the only view floating around either. In fact, it was a highly unpopular view. Most medieval philosophers disagreed entirely. Ockham, for example, finds the problem of the corpse decisive.

Suppose that I die a few seconds from now. As I said before, my body would fall lifeless to the floor, and you would be left with a corpse on your hands. But compare my body now with the soon-to-be corpse. How would they differ?

As Ockham sees it, they wouldn’t differ at all. On the contrary, they would be exactly similar in every way. They would have the same color, the same size, and so on. They would even have the same cells. Of course, the cells would start to decay after I die, but at the moment just before my death and the moment just after my death, there would be exactly the same cells (or very nearly). And that, thinks Ockham, gives us a very strong reason to think that they are, in fact, the very same body.

Bodies, Animals, and Minds 8 --- Aquinas 6

On Aquinas’s view, when I die, I go away, and a new object (a corpse) pops into existence to fill the same region of space. That seems weird. Most people think that our bodies remain after we die, with the difference between my current body and the soon-to-be corpse on the floor being just that the one has life and the other does not. That is another deep-seated intuition many people have; when we die, most people think that what departs is my life, not my body.

Now, if you think that humans are composed of bodies and minds (or souls, as some call them), then you could easily explain this. For you could say that when I die, my soul goes away, but my body remains. And that would very nicely explain how my body continues to exist after I die.

But this is not an option that is open to Aquinas. Again, remember that he thinks there is just one thing occupying this region of space where I am now standing, not two. There are not two distinct things here, a body and a soul, one of which could go away at death and the other of which could remain.

Aquinas thinks there is just one thing here, and so when it goes away, there’s nothing else left to fill this region of space. Consequently, the corpse that we would see here would have to be something new, something that would have to pop into existence at the moment of my death, and which would fill the very same region of space.

Interestingly, Aquinas is aware of this consequence, and he doesn’t mind it. On the contrary, he completely accepts it. ‘Yes’, he would say, ‘when you die, you would cease to exist there (you would get whisked away to heaven), and a new thing --- a corpse --- would come into being’.

So there are some nice things about Aquinas, and some not so nice things. When he says that there is just one thing that fills this region of space where I am now standing, he does seem to do justice to many of our intutions about material objects and living organisms. On the other hand, his view does entail that when I die, a new thing (a corpse) pops into existence, and that seems odd.

Bodies, Animals, and Minds 7 --- Aquinas 5

Even though Aquinas’s view does line up with certain intuitons we have about material objects and living organisms, Aquinas’s view does have some odd consequences. The most important of those runs as follows.

What would happen if I were to suddenly die in the next few seconds? Well, my body would fall lifeless to the floor, and you would be left with a corpse on your hands. But the question is: would that lifeless corpse be the same body as the living one that is standing here now?

Aquinas would have to say no. Remember: Aquinas maintains that here in this region of space that I am now occupying, there is just one thing, and that’s me. So, if I were to die, one of two things could happen. Either this one thing (me) would cease to exist altogether, or it would get whisked away to the ‘other side’ (heaven, hell, or wherever it is you think dead people go). Indeed, that’s what it means for something to die: it ceases to exist, or it goes away to the ‘other side’.

But either way, the thing that occupies this region of space right now would no longer be here. Consequently, the corpse would have to be something new, something that pops into existence at the moment of my death and then fills the exact same spot where I was standing a moment before. Crazy, eh?

Bodies, Animals, and Minds 6 --- Aquinas 4

A third intuition we have has to do with counting. Suppose I pointed to this region of space where I am now standing, and then I asked you, ‘how many things do you see here?’ Surely you would say ‘one’. If you said ‘two’ or ‘three’, I would probably think you weren’t seeing straight. I would think you were drunk and seeing doubles or triples. I would think that something was wrong with your vision.

So we tend to count each living organism as one thing, not more than one thing, and again, Aquinas really captures this intuition. You don’t count three objects standing here in this region of space. You just count one, and that’s me.

Henc, there is something very nice about Aquinas’s view that there is just one thing in this region of space where I am now standing. It certainly lines up with the three aforementioned intuitions we have about material objects and living organisms.

Bodies, Animals, and Minds 5 --- Aquinas 3

Another deep-seated intuition we have is that two material objects cannot occupy the same place at the same time. Take any two material objects and try to get them into the same space. You can’t do it. They bounce off each other; they repel each other. And indeed, this is precisely why we don’t try to park our cars in spots that are already occupied by other cars.

The same goes for human beings. As Aquinas sees it, if there were a distinct body and a distinct animal in this region of space where I am now standing, then there would be two material objects in the same place at the same time, and surely that’s impossible. Aquinas’s view captures this intuition nicely as well: there can only be one thing here in this spot right now, and that’s me.

Bodies, Animals, and Minds 4 --- Aquinas 2

In the last post, I explained that for Aquinas, there is just one thing occupying this region of space where I am now standing, and that’s me, a human being. Aquinas thinks it would be ludicrous to say that there is a distinct body, animal, and mind in this same region of space.

Now, at first sight, that probably sounds right to most people, and for good reason: it lines up with a number of intuitions that we have about material objects, and especially about living organisms.

For example, one intuition we have is that living organisms exhibit a very tight kind of internal unity. That is, the parts and functions of an organism are tied together very tightly and integrated into one single entity. It’s not as if I’m made of a bunch of lego bricks that can be pulled apart at will. If you pulled off my leg, it would be incredibly painful, and I would very likely die from blood loss, if the shock didn’t kill me first. I’m not a loose blob of parts; there’s a very tight connection between everything within me.

So we tend to think about living organisms as tightly unified individuals, and Aquinas’s view captures this intuition very well. When asked what it is that occupies this region of space where I am now standing, there’s got to be just one thing here, namely a single living organism (me).

Bodies, Animals, and Minds 3 --- Aquinas 1

In the last post, I pointed out that if we look at the region of space where I am now standing, we can identify at least three different sorts of things: an organic body, a living animal, and a mind. The question is, though, how are these three things related? Are they three distinct things in the same region of space, or is there just one thing here?

According to Aquinas, it would be ludicrous to say that here in this region of space that I now occupy, there are three entirely distinct things. As Aquinas sees it, there’s just one thing here, and it’s me, a human being.

Aquinas gives a number of arguments for why this must be so, but the one that really gets to the heart of his view is this: if a ‘human being’ were actually just a bunch of other individual things that just happened to occupy the same spot, then a ‘human being’ would really just be an aggregate of those other things. As Aquinas himself puts it:

‘Many . . . things do not make up one [larger] thing unless something unifies them and ties them together. So, for example, if Socrates were both an animal and a mind . . . , those two things would need to be united by some link that would make them into one thing. But since there is no such link [ex hypothesi], Socrates would just be an aggregate or a heap of many things’. --- From Quaestiones de Anima, in the Responsio to question 11.

And Aquinas clearly thinks that would be absurd. A human being is one individual thing, not a conglomerate of many things occupying the same region of space.

Bodies, Animals, and Minds 2 --- The Aristotelian Background

As with most medieval issues, the place to start is Aristotle, for he really set the terms of the debate. To start, consider the spot where I am now standing. Now let’s ask this question: what occupies this region of space? Aristotle thinks we could give a number of different answers here.

(1) For instance, one thing that fills this region of space is a body, i.e., this chunky lump of tissue bumbling around up here. And this is not just any old body. It’s not made of clay, or steel, or any other sort of inorganic material. It’s made of flesh and blood, bones and organs. In short, it’s an organic body. So one option is that there’s an organic body in this region of space.

(2) A second answer might be that there’s an animal here. For Aristotle, the defining characteristic of animals is that they are sentient, which is to say that they are aware of and responsive to the outside world. And indeed, I have five senses through which I access the outside world: I can see things, smell things, touch things, and so on. So here we have another option: there’s an animal standing here in this region of space.

(3) A third answer you might give is that there is a mind here, i.e., something with an intellect and will. Of all the animals on our planet, only humans are able to think in complicated ways, love our spouses and children deeply, take stands on moral issues, and so on. These are the sorts of things that can only be done by a mind (or at least by a thinking thing). So here we have yet another option: that there’s a mind which in some sense or other resides in this region of space.

So Aristotle thinks we can identify at least three things in this region of space. At the very least, there’s a body here, there’s an animal here, and there’s a mind here (or at least a thinking thing).

But how are these three related? Are they three entirely distinct things that all occupy the same region of space simultaneously, perhaps like how if we look at a wet sponge, we could say that the water and the sponge occupy the same region of space as well? Or is there just one thing occupying this region of space, and it has the characteristics of a body, an animal, and a mind?

That’s the basic question. Next, I’ll turn to Aquinas.

Bodies, Animals, and Minds 1

One of the things that medieval philosophers debated was this: how many substantial forms do material substances (especially human beings) have? This is known as the controversy over the plurality of forms. The debate can seem rather abstract and archaic, what with all the matter and form stuff. It may be abstract, but it’s not at all archaic. It still occupies philosophers today. In this series of posts, I want to introduce the topic in a way which I hope will make the basic problems and issues clear. So here goes.

One way into the debate is to think about this question: what exactly is a human being, or perhaps even a (human) person? Most of us would agree that we have bodies, we are all living animals, and we have minds. But which of those is crucial for being a (human) person? All of them? Just one of them? Some combination of them? Or perhaps none of them at all?

To help bring the issue into focus, consider the following. Sometimes people suffer severe head trauma, and as a result, they lapse into a vegetative state. Sometimes the damage is so bad that they require life support. They need machines to keep the heart beating and the lungs breathing.

What do we want to say about the person then? When I have my students deal with this question, many of them start off by arguing that when the mental activity stops, the person stops too, so to speak. And that suggests that the body is not that important for personhood. ‘It’s the mind that matters’, my students tell me.

But we can further push the point. Philosophers sometimes hypothesize about science-fiction sorts of scenarios, one of which is brain transplants. Imagine if we could take my mind --- all of its abilities, knowledge, memories, personal quirks, and so on --- and then transfer it into another body. Where would I be then? Would I go with my mind into the next body, or would I have left an important part of me behind in the old body?

In the next post, I’ll start digging into how the scholastics dealt with these sorts of questions.