Author Archives: M.A.D. Moore

Thinking of Thought in the Thought of Aristotle’s God Part 1/3

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“The things concerning intellect have certain perplexities. For, on one hand, intellect seems to be the most divine of all phenomenon, but on the other hand, if intellect is such a thing (ἔχων τοιοῦτος), [the fact of] how it would be (πῶς ἂν εἴη) [most divine] has some difficulties. For if it does not think, what would be the reverence [for a thing which is divine?] [If intellect does not think,] it is just like a sleeping man. If it intellect thinks, but something else controls intellect [i.e. process of thinking], since this is not [that thing] which is the essence of it [intellect] as a thought but as an ability [of thought], it would not be the best essence. For value [only] belongs to intellect through thinking. And yet, whether the essence of intellect is “intellect” or thinking, what does intellect think? Indeed, it either thinks of itself or thinks of something else. And if intellect thinks of something else, either it thinks the same thing always or different things. Does it matter somewhat or not at all whether it is thinking about the noble or [merely] something of happenstance? In fact, is [not] thinking about some things strange? Therefore it is obvious that intellect thinks about the most divine and most honorable thing, and it does not change [thinking about this.] For a change is for the worse, and such [an act] is already a kind of motion.” (Metaphysics 1074b15-26)

In this famous passage of Aristotle some of the difficulties of nous (intellect) are discussed. Aristotle’s method is to offer dichotomous choices, wherein one option is eliminated because the answer involves the necessary negation of the divinity/honor of nous. Because Aristotle begins this section of the metaphysics by assuming that the nous is the most divine thing (lit. is the most divine of phenomena), from his point of view any argument or notion that denies this basic fact about intellect must be abandoned.
Some have posited that this passage does not speak about God himself, in so far as he is pure intellect, but a type of universal intellect. It seems to me that the type of language used precludes such a reading. Immediately after Aristotle has introduced intellect as the most divine thing (theiotaton,) he raises the possibility of intellect not thinking, “What would be the holiness/reverence (semnon)?” The implication is that semnon is synonymous with theiotaton. That is, if intellect does not think, it would not be divine. This is absurd of course, and a contradiction, so it must be the case that the intellect thinks.

On the other hand, if intellect does think, but something else controls this thinking, then intellect is not an actual process native to intellect but only an ability to think, much like a calculator, which lies dormant until a person picks it up and decides to push its buttons. That is, it has only the capacity to think, i.e. “calculate”, but is not itself the source of the thinking, as that role is fulfilled by the human operating it. If nous is like that, a mere ability, then it is not the best essence (he ariste ousia eie). Not being the best essence (or existing thing) would also imply that nous is not a divine thing, but again, this is impossible; so nous cannot be a mere capacity for thinking, but must be actual thinking itself. As Aristotle adds that since the value we grant to nous is through its actual thinking, it must be that this thinking is the divine element in nous. Regardless of whether the thinking of the nous comes from itself or from outside itself, there is indisputably thinking occurring. It is to this concern that Aristotle turns next.

Nous, as we know, possesses the occurence of thinking in some sense. There are two questions Aristotle asks to clarify the “what is it” of the object of intellect’s thinking: (1) Does intellect think of itself or of something besides itself? (2) And if it thinks of something beside itself, does it matter whether it thinks of something great and noble, like love or justice, or whether it thinks of whatever pops into its head (so to speak!), such as lollipops and hair in the shower drain? Aristotle answers these two questions with another question. Wouldn’t it be crazy for there to be thinking about certain things? (ἢ καὶ ἄτοπον τὸ διανοεῖσθαι περὶ ἐνίων;) That is, it would be beneath the reverence (semnon) and divinity (theitaton) of intellect if it were to think about certain things, such as lollipops, or to take the illustration a step further, something as evil as murder or base as defecation. The conclusion of this line of reasoning, as Aristotle would lead us, is that intellect obviously does not think about something willy-nilly, but must think about the most divine and honorable thing, since intellect, in fact, is the most divine and honorable thing. Additionally since intellect is divine and the most honorable thing, it will not waver in its thinking about the divine and most honorable object, for that would involve a change for the worse, because thinking about anything else besides the best is a step down ipso facto. Such a demotion of state is necessarily impossible, by definition, for the most honorable thing. Furthermore this would involve a change in state, which in Aristotelian terms means a change in motion**, and necessitates physical existence. Physical existence however, as the precondition for motion, is an impossibility for something of the type that intellect is, a divine and non-physical thing.

* τὰ δὲ περὶ τὸν νοῦν ἔχει τινὰς ἀπορίας: δοκεῖ μὲν γὰρ εἶναι τῶν φαινομένων θειότατον, πῶς δ ̓ ἔχων τοιοῦτος ἂν εἴη, ἔχει τινὰς δυσκολίας. εἴτε γὰρ μηδὲν νοεῖ, τί ἂν εἴη τὸ σεμνόν, ἀλλ ̓ ἔχει ὥσπερ ἂν εἰ ὁ καθεύδων: εἴτε νοεῖ, τούτου δ ̓ ἄλλο κύριον, οὐ γάρ ἐστι τοῦτο ὅ ἐστιν αὐτοῦ ἡ [20] οὐσία νόησις, ἀλλὰ δύναμις, οὐκ ἂν ἡ ἀρίστη οὐσία εἴη: διὰ γὰρ τοῦ νοεῖν τὸ τίμιον αὐτῷ ὑπάρχει. ἔτι δὲ εἴτε νοῦς ἡ οὐσία αὐτοῦ εἴτε νόησίς ἐστι, τί νοεῖ; ἢ γὰρ αὐτὸς αὑτὸν ἢ ἕτερόν τι: καὶ εἰ ἕτερόν τι, ἢ τὸ αὐτὸ ἀεὶ ἢ ἄλλο. πότερον οὖν διαφέρει τι ἢ οὐδὲν τὸ νοεῖν τὸ καλὸν ἢ τὸ τυχόν; [25] ἢ καὶ ἄτοπον τὸ διανοεῖσθαι περὶ ἐνίων; δῆλον τοίνυν ὅτι τὸ θειότατον καὶ τιμιώτατον νοεῖ, καὶ οὐ μεταβάλλει: εἰς χεῖρον γὰρ ἡ μεταβολή, καὶ κίνησίς τις ἤδη τὸ τοιοῦτον.

**Motion for Aristotle was of four types: change of place (locomotion), increase, diminution, and change of quality/state. A change of the object of thinking would be an example of the last.

Angry Soul, Angry Body in Aristotle

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And it seems also that all the affections of the soul accompany the body: anger, gentleness, fear, pity, courage, and even more, joy and both loving and hating.  For the body is somewhat affected with the emotions.  On occasion, although there are strong and clear disturbances, it is evident that there is no irritation or fearing [from the body]; yet sometimes there is physical movement [of the body] at the instigation of small and trivial things, whenever the body is excited and in this same way whenever the body grows angry.  And yet this example is more clear:  [sometimes] although nothing fearful occurs among the emotions, there are fearful things coming into existence in the emotions of one when he is frightened.  And if this is so, it is clear that the emotions are formulae implicated in matter.[1]  (De Anima 403a16-25)

Among the vexations of the De Anima that scholars either discover or invent, rediscover from past commentators, or– at the mercy of their own textual uncharitableness – are blithely inserted, those among the first book are the most frequently ignored.  In part, of course, this is due to the function of the first book as mainly “setting the table,” asking the questions that need to be asked and in the process determining a method to be followed, as well as laying out prior (and faulty) views about the soul.  There is less substantive (or should it be incorporeal?) material for discussing and analyzing.

But there are a number of fascinating discursions in the first book.  One of these is a small discussion about whether the emotions or affections (πάθη pathe) can be separated from the body.  The “proof”, if one can refer to the experience Aristotle provides as evidence for such, is offered by some philosophically ambiguous conditions that point to the association of the bodily with the emotional.  As is not unusual with Aristotle, he does not elaborate his theory to the reader’s satisfaction, yet uncharacteristically he gives no examples for the situations he describes.

I would like to offer a few examples on Aristotle’s behalf.  Perhaps they are poorly exampled, but in an effort to understand what he is saying, unfortunately we must fill in his formula to see if his assessment is right.

If I were to paraphrase him, I would say this:  Sometimes when there are clear and present dangers there is no reaction, no provocation or shrinking on our part.  Think of a tightrope walker who does not flinch as he carefully crosses a rope strung hundreds of feet in the air.  He does not experience the emotion of fear, and thus his body does not produce the symptoms of fear.  If the emotions were not so closely allied with the body however, we might expect the body to start sweating profusely as it sensed (through the eyes) the great height from which it could fall.  But it does not do so.  On the other hand there are times when there are small and silly trifles which really cause a stir in us.  For example, sometimes the sound of a phone going off, a circumstance familiar enough, can cause anger in us if it is in an inappropriate setting, such as at a theatre.  But it is not the sound itself that causes the anger to manifest in the body, rather it is the soul which is angry in some sense, and in turn the soul causes the physical symptoms of anger in the body.  These two examples show that the body follows the lead of the soul in that when the physical manifestations of anger occur, it is because of the soul, not because of a physiological reaction.  But if you are not yet convinced, I have got a better example.  Sometimes the soul can produce the physical symptoms of fear by itself when they are no frightening things in sight.  A man can fear that he might meet a mugger on the street, or fear while dreaming, but despite the object of his fear being absent or non-existent, his soul can nevertheless produce the physical symptoms of fear within his body.  Thus when the emotions fear, the body fears also.  When there is anger qua emotion, there is anger qua body.

There is a great subtlety of reasoning here on Aristotle’s part, but I think his argument is inconclusive.  His effort shows that when the physical products of feeling manifest, there was a logically antecedent feeling in the soul beforehand.  But does this mean that if there is the feeling of anger, for example, there must also be some physical manifestation of that feeling, be it ever so small?  I would gravitate toward yes, but perhaps for a given emotion, there is a counterexample.  Take courage (θάρσος tharsos) which Aristotle gives as an example in this very passage.  If there is not an actual battle or appropriate circumstance for someone to partake in (i.e. evidence his courage through action) could it be said that this person is feeling courageous?  I would say yes, but on Aristotle’s view, this does not seem possible.

[1] ἔοικε δὲ καὶ τὰ τῆς ψυχῆς πάθη πάντα εἶναι μετὰ σώματος, θυμός, πραότης, φόβος, ἔλεος, θάρσος, ἔτι χαρὰ καὶ τὸ φιλεῖν τε καὶ μισεῖν· ἅμα γὰρ τούτοις πάσχει τι τὸ σῶμα. μηνύει δὲ τὸ ποτὲ μὲν ἰσχυρῶν καὶ ἐναργῶν παθημάτων συμβαινόντων μηδὲν παροξύνεσθαι ἢ φοβεῖσθαι, ἐνίοτε δ’ ὑπὸ μικρῶν καὶ ἀμαυρῶν κινεῖσθαι, ὅταν ὀργᾷ τὸ σῶμα καὶ οὕτως ἔχῃ ὥσπερ ὅταν ὀργίζηται. ἔτι δὲ μᾶλλον τοῦτο φανερόν· μηθενὸς γὰρ φοβεροῦ συμβαίνοντος ἐν τοῖς πάθεσι γίνονται τοῖς τοῦ φοβουμένου. εἰ δ’ οὕτως ἔχει, δῆλον ὅτι τὰ πάθη λόγοι ἔνυλοί εἰσιν.

 

Socrates’ Swan Song

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In the maddening swirl of language, we seldom reflect on the meaning of individual words or phrases.  It is not so surprising then, when we pass by even more obscure idioms and metaphors, although this paradoxically does not prevent us from using them again in turn!

One of these phrases is “swan song”, often meaning the last effort or final production coming from someone in his respective field before retirement, or sometimes, death.  This idea has a long pedigree in Western thought.  It first appears in literature in Aeschylus (Agamemnon, 1444), and has not performed its own swan song in our communal imagination since.  The idea behind the myth was that the swan is silent its entire life save the prescience it is granted of its oncoming death, then the swan pours out the first and final charming melodies from its soul.

Socrates himself alludes to this myth, albeit not without commenting on what he sees as its probable origin:

But I seem to you more common than the swans regarding prophecy, which when they sense that it necessary that they die, they sing in the interval before death, indeed, at that time, especially and most beautifully do they sing, rejoicing that they are about to go to the divine, the very thing they serve.  And men, because of their own fear of death, they both slander the swans and they say that the swans lament their death singing because of pain, and they do not consider that no bird sings when in hunger or cold or during any other pain it undergoes, nor does the nightingale, the swallow, nor the hoopoe, which they say laments singing because of its pain.  But these do not appear to me to sing because they are pained, nor do the swans, but I think, since they are prophetic, being from Apollo, and foreknowing the good things in Hades they sing and rejoice during that day more than in the time before.  I myself think I am a co-laborer of the swans and a priest of the same god, and I have the gift of prophecy from my master not worse than theirs, nor do I think I am freed from a life more melancholy than theirs.

ὡς ἔοικε, τῶν κύκνων δοκῶ φαυλότερος ὑμῖν εἶναι τὴν μαντικήν, οἳ ἐπειδὰν αἴσθωνται ὅτι δεῖ αὐτοὺς ἀποθανεῖν, ᾁδοντες καὶ ἐν τῷ πρόσθεν χρόνῳ, τότε δὴ πλεῖστα καὶ κάλλιστα ᾁδουσι, γεγηθότες ὅτι μέλλουσι παρὰ τὸν θεὸν ἀπιέναι οὗπέρ εἰσι θεράποντες. οἱ δ᾽ ἄνθρωποι διὰ τὸ αὑτῶν δέος τοῦ θανάτου καὶ τῶν κύκνων καταψεύδονται, καί φασιν αὐτοὺς θρηνοῦντας τὸν θάνατον ὑπὸ λύπης ἐξᾴδειν, καὶ οὐ λογίζονται ὅτι οὐδὲν ὄρνεον ᾁδει ὅταν πεινῇ ἢ ῥιγῷ ἤ τινα ἄλλην λύπην λυπῆται, οὐδὲ αὐτὴ ἥ τε ἀηδὼν καὶ χελιδὼν καὶ ὁ ἔποψ, ἃ δή φασι διὰ λύπην θρηνοῦντα ᾁδειν. ἀλλ᾽ οὔτε ταῦτά μοι φαίνεται λυπούμενα ᾁδειν οὔτε οἱ κύκνοι, ἀλλ᾽ ἅτε οἶμαι τοῦ Ἀπόλλωνος ὄντες, μαντικοί τέ εἰσι καὶ προειδότες τὰ ἐν Ἅιδου ἀγαθὰ ᾁδουσι καὶ τέρπονται ἐκείνην τὴν ἡμέραν διαφερόντως ἢ ἐν τῷ ἔμπροσθεν χρόνῳ. ἐγὼ δὲ καὶ αὐτὸς ἡγοῦμαι ὁμόδουλός τε εἶναι τῶν κύκνων καὶ ἱερὸς τοῦ αὐτοῦ θεοῦ, καὶ οὐ χεῖρον ἐκείνων τὴν μαντικὴν ἔχειν παρὰ τοῦ δεσπότου, οὐδὲ δυσθυμότερον αὐτῶν τοῦ βίου ἀπαλλάττεσθαι. ἀλλὰ τούτου γ᾽ ἕνεκα λέγειν τε χρὴ καὶ ἐρωτᾶν ὅτι ἂν βούλησθε, ἕως ἂν Ἀθηναίων ἐῶσιν ἄνδρες ἕνδεκα. Phaedo 84e-85b