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.