How do we come to know things?

[lmelahn]

“Intellectual structure” is a nice metaphor. It is an analogy, isn’t it?

As you know, analogies are complex comparisons. So, when you say that the very reality we work in is analogous, I understand that you are saying that a part of reality “A” is comparable to a part of reality “B”. I would like to propose this example: It has been found in the past centuries that certain phenomena can be modeled through formally identical equations. Two of those phenomena are mass transfer by diffusion, and energy transfer (heat) by conduction. So, it is customarily said that there is an analogy between them. What it means is, for example, that you could make an experiment of heat transfer whose results will serve you to predict what will happen in a comparable system where mass (instead of energy) is transferred. If your experiment was well designed, your prediction will be good enough. We would tend to think that we don’t invent the analogy, but discover it, right? However, if you take the time to investigate how those equations were developed, I think you will realize that “discovery” is not the best word to describe them. We don’t discover analogy; we bring it into the world.

I will come back tomorrow.

Those are examples of what logicians call analogies of proportionality. We use them all the time, as you point out, and sometimes they are a lot less complicated than those equations. (Notes are to music as words are to text, for example; or the moon is to the earth as Gannymede is to Jupiter.)

I would like to take the opportunity to clarify my position: analogy is something that occurs in the logical order. Through analogy, our intellects understand the relationships among things. However, the relationships exist in reality.

When deal with material things, the concepts we form of them are “univocal.” They are simple concepts that are always applicable in the same way. The notion of “dog” applies, and always will apply to four-footed mammals of the genus Canis.

However, some concepts apply unequally. Take health (which is Aristotle’s example). A man can be healthy; there is also healthy food; and there are also healthy vital signs. I think it is difficult to deny that the notion of “health” here differs somewhat depending on its context. In one case, it refers to a disposition of a man (specifically of his body); in another case, to something that causes that disposition; in the third case, to a sign of that disposition.

On the other hand, these meanings are hardly unrelated to one another. On the contrary, they are sufficiently close, that they fit under a single notion: health. The very notion of “health” is polyvalent.

There are lots of examples of notions of this kind: love, faith, justice, and goodness, to name a few. And among these is being (our to on or ens).

 

[JuanFlorencio]

Those are examples of what logicians call analogies of proportionality. We use them all the time, as you point out, and sometimes they are a lot less complicated than those equations. (Notes are to music as words are to text, for example; or the moon is to the earth as Gannymede is to Jupiter.)

I would like to take the opportunity to clarify my position: analogy is something that occurs in the logical order. Through analogy, our intellects understand the relationships among things. However, the relationships exist in reality.

When deal with material things, the concepts we form of them are “univocal.” They are simple concepts that are always applicable in the same way. The notion of “dog” applies, and always will apply to four-footed mammals of the genus Canis.

However, some concepts apply unequally. Take health (which is Aristotle’s example). A man can be healthy; there is also healthy food; and there are also healthy vital signs. I think it is difficult to deny that the notion of “health” here differs somewhat depending on its context. In one case, it refers to a disposition of a man (specifically of his body); in another case, to something that causes that disposition; in the third case, to a sign of that disposition.

On the other hand, these meanings are hardly unrelated to one another. On the contrary, they are sufficiently close, that they fit under a single notion: health. The very notion of “health” is polyvalent.

There are lots of examples of notions of this kind: love, faith, justice, and goodness, to name a few. And among these is being (our to on or ens).

I appreciate that you have clarified your position. That makes things easier. However, what I said for analogy, applies just the same for relations: we bring them into the world. Let’s consider a thing A, a thing B and a relation Z between them. How does relation Z exist? Does it inhere in the thing A, or in the thing B? Does it exist in itself? Does it inhere in our mind? Do we simply establish it, when we consider things A and B (though not necessarily)?

 

[JuanFlorencio]

…But also keep in mind that this account is after the fact. I would hardly have made these reflections explicitly in the very act. Take the inanimateness. It is not as if I explicitly listeded for it to scamper away. But when my foot struck it, it slid and then stopped. In that very moment, I realized that it was some kind of relatively light, inanimate objecte. I did not have to think about it—my memory and imagination filled that in for me spontaneously.

The last part, I can agree with: that the interaction triggers the activity of the mind, and then the mind (through the imagination) imposes past experiences over it.

But interactions can’t occur in a vacuum. They presuppose a “something” that interacts. We superimpose data from our imagination over something.

(Incidentally, the interior senses—especially the imagination and cogitatative power—can, in the terminology of Aristotle, err per accidens. I can imagine I am seeing a lion, and be scared by it, when, in reality it is the silhouette of a cat.)

Almost. Except for the “unknown” part. Apprehension is the first stage of knowledge, so if we have apprehended something, it is because we are at least beginning to know it.

Based on my replies, I still think we are not distinguishing correctly between the two acts of the intellect—apprehension and judgment—and between these and the use of reason (which is, if you will, our ability to compose judgments).

All of the mistakes that your counter-examples envision are errors in reason, not in apprehension.

I am fully and constantly aware that you elaborated your account after the fact; that you would hardly have made those reflections explicitly in the very act; and that in the very act you don’t have to think about what is happening, because your “memory” and your “imagination” act spontaneously trying to complete things.

And because I am fully and constantly aware of all that, I am forced to reject your responses in which you attribute possible errors to reasoning, simply because there could be no reasoning in the very act.

Also, I would like to remark that even though I wasn’t there when you had your incident, I am able to tell you that there are important voids in your account. If you complete it carefully, you might be able to realize that from your example you cannot conclude that you apprehended the whole of the thing in the darkness, though confusedly. What you should conclude is that you elaborated it, and that you could have been wrong.

About interactions occurring in the vacuum… Interactions do not presuppose anything; it is us who presuppose that there is something that interacts (yes, me too, Imelahn!, because, as I have said before, I say there are “elements of interaction”); and I feel obliged to stress that it is just a presupposition (in other words, a spontaneous elaboration).

 

[JuanFlorencio]

I think it is experience that carries the day here. No one doubts, I think, that the blueness of a bluebird has less ontological consistency than the bluebird itself. The blueness hardly sings or makes nests.

The more important question is whether you think concrete being (to on, ens) arises because of an intrinsic act, or perfection (to einai, esse), or not. Aristotle and St. Thomas did; the others, evidently, did not.

Ontological consistency? Looks like a big expression. What do you mean by it?

 

[JuanFlorencio]

Yes, but that is because numbers are abstracted from reality. They come from the accident that Aristotle calls “quantity.” What we are witnessing here is an analogy of reference: the easiest kind of number we grasp is the discrete quantity (in modern terminology, the “natural numbers”). By understanding the relations between those kinds of numbers, we can derive zero and the negative integers. By examining ratios (which are analogies!), we get the rational numbers. Then (taking our cue from geometry) we discover that some relationships are incommensurable—they can’t be represented as ratios of integers; hence the irrational numbers to complete the reals. The more arcane kinds of numbers—e.g., complex numbers, quaternions, and what have you—are numbers by a more distant kind of analogy, since they do not correspond as easily to the three-dimensional space we are familiar with. (Yes, I know that complex numbers can be interpreted basically as two-dimensional vectors, but they are clearly not “numbers” in the common sense of the word.)…

…I am unable to concur (no pun intended) that a dog is not a unity. It is a single organism. Take out its brain, and the individual parts will function for a time, but they will not be a single organism. Amputate a limb (I hope no one actually does these experiments!), and the organism will go on living (provided it is cared for), but the limb will decompose, no matter how much it is cared for.

To put it simply, a bunch of cells does not make an organism. In fact, a bunch of cells does not even make an organ (and a bunch of organs do not make an organism). There is a unity there that is irreducible to its constituent parts.

Take a more banal example: is a house just a pile of bricks, timber, plumbing, and wires? No, the parts have to be properly ordered. Now, if that is true for a house, which is not a substance (it is an aggregate of substances), it is all the more true for an organism.

Perhaps we should agree that “number” and “unity” are two of those terms that are said in many ways. So, for example, there would be several common senses of the word “number” and you wouldn’t hesitate in accepting the name “complex number” as a valid one. On my side, I would not have any hesitation in saying that a dog is a unity (independently of anything, Imelahn, I bet you and I exhibit similar behaviors in front of those “organisms”, “systems” or “bunches of cells” -as you have called them-, that we name “dogs”). There would be no problem if we said that a brick is a unity, a pile of bricks is a unity (obviously we can distinguish one pile from another), a house is a unity, a country is a unity, a planet is a unity, the solar system is a unity, and the universe is a unity; not univocally, but analogously).

 

[lmelahn]

I am fully and constantly aware that you elaborated your account after the fact; that you would hardly have made those reflections explicitly in the very act; and that in the very act you don’t have to think about what is happening, because your “memory” and your “imagination” act spontaneously trying to complete things.

And because I am fully and constantly aware of all that, I am forced to reject your responses in which you attribute possible errors to reasoning, simply because there could be no reasoning in the very act.

Reasoning need not be perfectly conscious either. The most obvious conclusions are drawn spontaneously. (E.g., “The cat is not in the house; therefore, it must be outside.” That is a conclusion based on reasoning—we obtain it by composing judgments—but spontaneous. It is only the long or difficult reasonings that have to be formalized by arguments.)

Also, I would like to remark that even though I wasn’t there when you had your incident, I am able to tell you that there are important voids in your account. If you complete it carefully, you might be able to realize that from your example you cannot conclude that you apprehended the whole of the thing in the darkness, though confusedly. What you should conclude is that you elaborated it, and that you could have been wrong.

I at least apprehended that it was a being—the moment it interacted with me. (Again, I am as much in favor as you are of interactions. I just don’t think they are the primum cognitum.) That is sufficient to apprehend it as a whole.

The whole-and-parts I am referring to are the metaphysical principles, not what are commonly called the “integral” parts (the physical constititutive parts of a material thing, like the pages in a book). I can understand, however, that if we the unity of substance, we would also tend to deny the unity of our experience of substance.

About interactions occurring in the vacuum… Interactions do not presuppose anything; it is us who presuppose that there is something that interacts (yes, me too, Imelahn!, because, as I have said before, I say there are “elements of interaction”); and I feel obliged to stress that it is just a presupposition (in other words, a spontaneous elaboration).

Obviously, ad litteram, the interactions themselves don’t do the presupposing. The point is, we understand the interactions only after (or at least at the same time as) we apprehend the things that do the interacting.

Could you give me an example to the contrary?

 

[lmelahn]

Ontological consistency? Looks like a big expression. What do you mean by it?

Just that the bluebird is one of those beings that exists independently (in technical terms, “subsists”). A bluebird can build a nest. The “blue” cannot. The blueness is merely inherent.

(Yes, I know that the blue color we perceive is the result of the plumage absorbing all wavelengths except the blue shades. But the plumage has the property that, when white light shines on it, it emits the wavelengths that it does. That property is inherent to the bluebird—specifically to its plumage. The property cannot possibly subsist independently of some substance.)

 

[lmelahn]

Perhaps we should agree that “number” and “unity” are two of those terms that are said in many ways. So, for example, there would be several common senses of the word “number” and you wouldn’t hesitate in accepting the name “complex number” as a valid one. On my side, I would not have any hesitation in saying that a dog is a unity (independently of anything, Imelahn, I bet you and I exhibit similar behaviors in front of those “organisms”, “systems” or “bunches of cells” -as you have called them-, that we name “dogs”). There would be no problem if we said that a brick is a unity, a pile of bricks is a unity (obviously we can distinguish one pile from another), a house is a unity, a country is a unity, a planet is a unity, the solar system is a unity, and the universe is a unity; not univocally, but analogously).

That is correct. But there is a hierarchy here. A dog is much more unified than a cadaver (which is basically just a bunch of organs). A house is much more unified than a pile of bricks and lumber; in turn, a dog is much more unified than a house.

There is also a difference between the analogy of oneness and the analogy of number.

Oneness is found in reality. It is not simply a construct. Take the house: if I try to remove the bottom floor without removing the upper floors, the whole thing will come crashing down. That shows that there is an order intrinsic to the very house (albeit a rather weak one). See what I mean? Granting your system for a moment, I didn’t only construct the relationships among parts of the house with my mind, I constructed them (or someone else constructed them) for real. (Which is why I would prefer to characterize the process as a discovery, not a construction, of relations.)

A similar thing could be said about our dog, and all the more so, becuase is unity is much tighter. Remove too many organs, and the dog simply dies. (Again, I hope no one actually tries this! But the mere fact that there is an ethical concern here shows that the dog is a much more important being—taken in and of itself—than a house. We would say in Scholastic terms, the dog is more “noble” than a house, and man much more “noble” than either.) And the unity—and the corresponding ordering of the parts to the whole—was not constructed at all (at least not in reality). The unity and intrinsic order are there, but they are entirely—if we can use this term—natural.

Regarding numbers, on the other hand, the more derived kinds of numbers are, in fact, constructs. In any event, mathematical objects don’t exist in the strict sense: it is not as if there are geometrically perfect circles and line segments floating around. Discrete quantities do exist really—as pluralities of real things—but not the abstract objects themselves (the integers 1, 2, 3, and so on).

So, we could say that the analogy of unity is based on the degree of unity that we find in reality. The analogy of number, on the other hand, is based partly on the analogy of unity, but also on the degree to which numbers are mental constructs—on their distance from reality.

 

[JuanFlorencio]

Reasoning need not be perfectly conscious either. The most obvious conclusions are drawn spontaneously. (E.g., “The cat is not in the house; therefore, it must be outside.” That is a conclusion based on reasoning—we obtain it by composing judgments—but spontaneous. It is only the long or difficult reasonings that have to be formalized by arguments.)

I think that a very important function of the philosophical activity for a philosopher is the homogenization of the discourses that have influenced him over the years. This is the result of a great and sustained effort; and if there is no such effort, heterogeneous discourses find their home in our minds. Do you remember, Imelahn, what you have said about the simplicity of our soul? It was several weeks ago. Don’t you notice an heterogeneity between your belief on the simplicity of the soul and your belief on non-perfectly conscious reasonings? I am not saying that one of those beliefs is true and the other is false; but I say they are heterogeneous. Reality is complex and multifaceted, as you have mentioned before, and our “understanding” of it tends to be rather simplistic: the explanation we give for one aspect of reality might be inconsistent with the explanation we give for another aspect.

However, let’s focus on what happens to us: We sometimes find solutions to problems while we are distracted. Other times we find the solutions through arduous reasoning. Then, we could think that there must exist reasoning in the first cases too, though unconscious. “Otherwise, how could we solve a problem?”. Besides, “similar effects must have similar causes”. We “see” the effect, we don’t “see” the cause, so we put it: an unconscious reasoning; what else? Then, you will need to say also that “reasoning” is said in many ways.

However, amid all this confusion, you distinguish between apprehension and reasoning (unconscious reasoning, in this case) as if you were looking at them with absolute clarity like two neatly separate things!.. and, besides this, you classify reasonings in those that are long and difficult and those that are easy and short!.. I think you will need to develop many explanations like these ones to keep your idea that “apprehension” is infallible.

I at least apprehended that it was a being—the moment it interacted with me. (Again, I am as much in favor as you are of interactions. I just don’t think they are the primum cognitum.) That is sufficient to apprehend it as a whole.

The whole-and-parts I am referring to are the metaphysical principles, not what are commonly called the “integral” parts (the physical constititutive parts of a material thing, like the pages in a book). I can understand, however, that if we the unity of substance, we would also tend to deny the unity of our experience of substance.

Obviously, ad litteram, the interactions themselves don’t do the presupposing. The point is, we understand the interactions only after (or at least at the same time as) we apprehend the things that do the interacting.

Could you give me an example to the contrary?

Absolutely, Imelahn! Those cases are so common that I could give you hundreds of examples. I will give you this famous one: It is said that the behavior of Uranus, Saturn and Jupiter seemed not to obey Kepler and Newton’s laws. Le Verrier developed new calculations and conceived in his mind a massive object which could explain the situation. Fortunately for the fame of Newton and Kepler, when Galle turned his telescope in the direction that Le Verrier had indicated, there it was: Neptune.

 

[JuanFlorencio]

Just that the bluebird is one of those beings that exists independently (in technical terms, “subsists”). A bluebird can build a nest. The “blue” cannot. The blueness is merely inherent.

(Yes, I know that the blue color we perceive is the result of the plumage absorbing all wavelengths except the blue shades. But the plumage has the property that, when white light shines on it, it emits the wavelengths that it does. That property is inherent to the bluebird—specifically to its plumage. The property cannot possibly subsist independently of some substance.)

Again, you are mixing here heterogeneous discourses, Imelahn.

Let’s consider this first: You say that “blueness” cannot sing. I guess you wanted to say that we don’t hear the blue color. You would be right: sounds and colors are different sensations. So, I guess the conclusion would be that the interaction associated to “blue” is different from the interaction associated to “singing”. I agree.

Now this: you say that “blueness” does not make nests. I guess when you say “nests” you are referring to certain “brownness” that is almost as big as “blueness”. Haven’t you seen that “blueness” repeatedly approaches certain “brownness” and moves together with it to a certain place where “brownness” is gradually accumulated, until it becomes almost as big as the “blueness”? I have seen it. So, Blueness certainly makes nests.

You also use some scientific terminology. So you identify the blue color with certain wavelengths, and you mention also absorption and emission. But you would need to go on, talking about energy, and about a specific atomic model, and about energy levels and so on. Perhaps I would need to remind you that those waves that you mention can travel through empty space; and I would have to ask you: Do you need your “substance” to be ultimately solid? Because, as you go on, you would need to acknowledge also that those atomic particles can transform into energy, which is not precisely solid. It would seem that the meaning of “substance” as “that which underlies…” would become blurred.

 

[JuanFlorencio]

That is correct. But there is a hierarchy here. A dog is much more unified than a cadaver (which is basically just a bunch of organs). A house is much more unified than a pile of bricks and lumber; in turn, a dog is much more unified than a house.

There is also a difference between the analogy of oneness and the analogy of number.

Oneness is found in reality. It is not simply a construct. Take the house: if I try to remove the bottom floor without removing the upper floors, the whole thing will come crashing down. That shows that there is an order intrinsic to the very house (albeit a rather weak one). See what I mean? Granting your system for a moment, I didn’t only construct the relationships among parts of the house with my mind, I constructed them (or someone else constructed them) for real. (Which is why I would prefer to characterize the process as a discovery, not a construction, of relations.)

A similar thing could be said about our dog, and all the more so, becuase is unity is much tighter. Remove too many organs, and the dog simply dies. (Again, I hope no one actually tries this! But the mere fact that there is an ethical concern here shows that the dog is a much more important being—taken in and of itself—than a house. We would say in Scholastic terms, the dog is more “noble” than a house, and man much more “noble” than either.) And the unity—and the corresponding ordering of the parts to the whole—was not constructed at all (at least not in reality). The unity and intrinsic order are there, but they are entirely—if we can use this term—natural.

Regarding numbers, on the other hand, the more derived kinds of numbers are, in fact, constructs. In any event, mathematical objects don’t exist in the strict sense: it is not as if there are geometrically perfect circles and line segments floating around. Discrete quantities do exist really—as pluralities of real things—but not the abstract objects themselves (the integers 1, 2, 3, and so on).

So, we could say that the analogy of unity is based on the degree of unity that we find in reality. The analogy of number, on the other hand, is based partly on the analogy of unity, but also on the degree to which numbers are mental constructs—on their distance from reality.

But you haven’t answered my post #261. What is your position on that?

 

[lmelahn]

I think that a very important function of the philosophical activity for a philosopher is the homogenization of the discourses that have influenced him over the years. This is the result of a great and sustained effort; and if there is no such effort, heterogeneous discourses find their home in our minds. Do you remember, Imelahn, what you have said about the simplicity of our soul? It was several weeks ago. Don’t you notice an heterogeneity between your belief on the simplicity of the soul and your belief on non-perfectly conscious reasonings? I am not saying that one of those beliefs is true and the other is false; but I say they are heterogeneous. Reality is complex and multifaceted, as you have mentioned before, and our “understanding” of it tends to be rather simplistic: the explanation we give for one aspect of reality might be inconsistent with the explanation we give for another aspect.

I see no heterogenity here. See below.

However, let’s focus on what happens to us: We sometimes find solutions to problems while we are distracted. Other times we find the solutions through arduous reasoning. Then, we could think that there must exist reasoning in the first cases too, though unconscious. “Otherwise, how could we solve a problem?”. Besides, “similar effects must have similar causes”. We “see” the effect, we don’t “see” the cause, so we put it: an unconscious reasoning; what else? Then, you will need to say also that “reasoning” is said in many ways.

Well, now wait a minute: when I say it is unconscious, I just mean we don’t have to think about it as we do it. That doesn’t mean we can’t reflect on it afterwards and recall that we have made a reasoning process.

Incidentally, our ability to reflect on our knowledge—whether that be apprehension, judgment, or reasoning—is an indication of our soul’s simplicity. That reflection is what the Scholastics called the reditio completa, our ability to be aware of the workings of our own intellect. But only a simple substance can do that: if it were compound (compound as regards matter and form), it would be unable to be aware of itself, since it would be both in act and in potency in the same respect (as is the case of our sensory faculties).

However, amid all this confusion, you distinguish between apprehension and reasoning (unconscious reasoning, in this case) as if you were looking at them with absolute clarity like two neatly separate things!.. and, besides this, you classify reasonings in those that are long and difficult and those that are easy and short!.. I think you will need to develop many explanations like these ones to keep your idea that “apprehension” is infallible.

I distinguish apprehension, judgment, and reasoning. I don’t think the distinction is all that complicated: with apprehension, we get concepts or notions; with judments, we compare those concepts with reality; with reasoning, we compose judgments into new judgments.

Perhaps “unconscious” was not the correct word. My point is, it is sponeaneous. You don’t have to think about it in the very act. That doesn’t mean that we can’t distinguish it upon reflection.

Absolutely, Imelahn! Those cases are so common that I could give you hundreds of examples. I will give you this famous one: It is said that the behavior of Uranus, Saturn and Jupiter seemed not to obey Kepler and Newton’s laws. Le Verrier developed new calculations and conceived in his mind a massive object which could explain the situation. Fortunately for the fame of Newton and Kepler, when Galle turned his telescope in the direction that Le Verrier had indicated, there it was: Neptune.

OK. But let’s look at that observation a little more closely:

What the astronomers of their day saw was abberations in the orbits of Saturn and Jupiter—namely, two substances that had been known by astrologers/astronomers for millennia. From this, Galle deduced (or better said hypothesized) that there must be another planet in their vicinity. That, however, is a use of reasoning. The hypothesis was later verified by direct observation.

I do not find that the example weakens my case any.

 

[lmelahn]

Again, you are mixing here heterogeneous discourses, Imelahn.

Let’s consider this first: You say that “blueness” cannot sing. I guess you wanted to say that we don’t hear the blue color. You would be right: sounds and colors are different sensations. So, I guess the conclusion would be that the interaction associated to “blue” is different from the interaction associated to “singing”. I agree.

Not exactly. I mean, blueness cannot be a principle of any kind of operation. What we have is a blue bird; there can be no blueness separate from any substance whatsoever.

Now this: you say that “blueness” does not make nests. I guess when you say “nests” you are referring to certain “brownness” that is almost as big as “blueness”. Haven’t you seen that “blueness” repeatedly approaches certain “brownness” and moves together with it to a certain place where “brownness” is gradually accumulated, until it becomes almost as big as the “blueness”? I have seen it. So, Blueness certainly makes nests.

No, blue birds make nests, not the blueness of the birds.

You also use some scientific terminology. So you identify the blue color with certain wavelengths, and you mention also absorption and emission. But you would need to go on, talking about energy, and about a specific atomic model, and about energy levels and so on. Perhaps I would need to remind you that those waves that you mention can travel through empty space; and I would have to ask you: Do you need your “substance” to be ultimately solid? Because, as you go on, you would need to acknowledge also that those atomic particles can transform into energy, which is not precisely solid. It would seem that the meaning of “substance” as “that which underlies…” would become blurred.

Substance need not be solid, no; it is sufficient that it be ordered by a unique principle, the way an animal is. After all, there are substances without any matter (e.g., angels). However, a substance is the unique principle of all of its characteristics, properties, and actions. In our example, the bird is blue; the bird sings, flies, and makes nests; and so on.

(Although I have thoughts about all of these scientific things, I would prefer to hold off giving a detailed answer for the moment, because it would be a long digression not directly relevant to our topic. For the moment, I will mention that Aristotle’s hyle is not exactly the same concept as a physicist’s “matter.” Even subatomic particles have prime matter and—when independent—their own substantial form. There is nothing stopping a macroscopic substance, such as a bird, from being constituted by atoms and molecules and, ultimately, by subatomic particles.)

 

[lmelahn]

I appreciate that you have clarified your position. That makes things easier. However, what I said for analogy, applies just the same for relations: we bring them into the world. Let’s consider a thing A, a thing B and a relation Z between them. How does relation Z exist? Does it inhere in the thing A, or in the thing B? Does it exist in itself? Does it inhere in our mind? Do we simply establish it, when we consider things A and B (though not necessarily)?

If A and B are substances, then inherent to A is a relation to B; and inherent to B is a relation to A.

For example, I have a relation of “sonship” with respect to my father, and my father has a relation of “fatherhood” with respect to me.

Something similar would apply to physical bodies: it is easiest to see in physical position or location, which is always relative to other bodies. (In contrast to Newton, I hold that there is no such thing as absolute location in space, nor is there absolute velocity.) E.g., with respect to B, A is four feet away, traveling at a velocity of 1 foot per second, at an angle of 45 degrees with respect to the line that crosses B and A; and vice versa.

In summary, relations are accidents, like any other. They are the pros ti (“towards which”) that Aristotle mentions in his list of categories. They refer one substance to another substance.

The vast majority of relations are mutual, that is, the two substances both have a relationship with each other. (One notable exception: God cannot have any accidents, so He does not strictly speaking have a relation of “Creator” with His creatures; creatures, however, have a relation of “creature” with respect to God.)

We can talk about relations in a broader sense, by analogy: like the relationship between a substance and its accidents, but here were are talking about the intrinsic structure or order of a substance—they are not exactly relations in the proper sense of the word.

 

[JuanFlorencio]

I see no heterogenity here. See below.

Well, now wait a minute: when I say it is unconscious, I just mean we don’t have to think about it as we do it. That doesn’t mean we can’t reflect on it afterwards and recall that we have made a reasoning process.

Incidentally, our ability to reflect on our knowledge—whether that be apprehension, judgment, or reasoning—is an indication of our soul’s simplicity. That reflection is what the Scholastics called the reditio completa, our ability to be aware of the workings of our own intellect. But only a simple substance can do that: if it were compound (compound as regards matter and form), it would be unable to be aware of itself, since it would be both in act and in potency in the same respect (as is the case of our sensory faculties).

I distinguish apprehension, judgment, and reasoning. I don’t think the distinction is all that complicated: with apprehension, we get concepts or notions; with judments, we compare those concepts with reality; with reasoning, we compose judgments into new judgments.

Perhaps “unconscious” was not the correct word. My point is, it is sponeaneous. You don’t have to think about it in the very act. That doesn’t mean that we can’t distinguish it upon reflection.

So, coming back to your example, you believe that in the very act of tripping in the darkness you were able to apprehend the whole of the obstacle, infallibly, though confusedly. And for the variations that I proposed, when there is an error, you attribute it to a “spontaneous” reasoning (which is a kind of reasoning that happens to you, without your thinking, and which is neatly distinguishable from “apprehension”). I suppose that, according to you, “apprehension” and “spontaneous” reasoning always happen to you simultaneously. When there is an error (for example, when you think you are in front of a “whole” instead of two “wholes”), it is the “spontaneous” reasoning which fails; and when there is no error, the role of the “spontaneous” reasoning is just the confirmation of the apprehension.

Do you think animals suffer from that “spontaneous” reasoning as well? They also make mistakes that might be attributed to apprehension if they are not affected by an “spontaneous” reasoning.

OK. But let’s look at that observation a little more closely:

What the astronomers of their day saw was aberrations in the orbits of Saturn and Jupiter—namely, two substances that had been known by astrologers/astronomers for millennia. From this, Galle deduced (or better said hypothesized) that there must be another planet in their vicinity. That, however, is a use of reasoning. The hypothesis was later verified by direct observation.

I do not find that the example weakens my case any.

Let’s look at it even more closely, Imelahn: those aberrations were apparent only to certain theoretical minds, so to say. For someone else, the planets’ orbits were as they were and it was all what had to be said. But those theoretical minds had expectations, and the orbits of those planets did not satisfy them. So, there were some possible explanations: Kepler and Newton’s laws were wrong, or they were not universal; or they were universal, but there was an interaction (according to the same laws) between those planets and a big body that was unknown so far. So, the study of the aberration understood as an interaction allowed Le Verrier determine where should the big body be located, if there was any. Well, actually there was one and, as a consequence, the aberration had been rightly understood as an interaction. So, what was observed first was the interaction, and the celestial body that caused it was observed later, thanks to Galle.

 

[JuanFlorencio]

Substance need not be solid, no; it is sufficient that it be ordered by a unique principle, the way an animal is. After all, there are substances without any matter (e.g., angels). However, a substance is the unique principle of all of its characteristics, properties, and actions. In our example, the bird is blue; the bird sings, flies, and makes nests; and so on.

Shall we forget then about the “idea” of substance as “that which underlies…”?

 

[JuanFlorencio]

If A and B are substances, then inherent to A is a relation to B; and inherent to B is a relation to A.

For example, I have a relation of “sonship” with respect to my father, and my father has a relation of “fatherhood” with respect to me.

Something similar would apply to physical bodies: it is easiest to see in physical position or location, which is always relative to other bodies. (In contrast to Newton, I hold that there is no such thing as absolute location in space, nor is there absolute velocity.) E.g., with respect to B, A is four feet away, traveling at a velocity of 1 foot per second, at an angle of 45 degrees with respect to the line that crosses B and A; and vice versa.

In summary, relations are accidents, like any other. They are the pros ti (“towards which”) that Aristotle mentions in his list of categories. They refer one substance to another substance.

The vast majority of relations are mutual, that is, the two substances both have a relationship with each other. (One notable exception: God cannot have any accidents, so He does not strictly speaking have a relation of “Creator” with His creatures; creatures, however, have a relation of “creature” with respect to God.)

We can talk about relations in a broader sense, by analogy: like the relationship between a substance and its accidents, but here were are talking about the intrinsic structure or order of a substance—they are not exactly relations in the proper sense of the word.

All this sounds really bad, Imelahn. Are you sure these are Aristotle’s doctrines?

According to this we could not say that a pile of books is bigger than another pile, or heavier, etcetera, because they are not substances; so, accidents cannot inhere on them. Nothing prevents us from using a measuring tool to measure them, but after doing it anything we could say would be inappropriate; very useful, but wrong.

Also, we could not say that a color (or a sound) is more intense than another, because according to you, a color is an accident, and accidents cannot inhere on accidents. It could be useful if we measure them and compare them, but it makes no sense, right?

And, Imelahn…, do relations inhere on the substances all the time, or only when they are close to the other substances with which they are related? For example, does it make sense to say that the horse in front of me is bigger than the one I saw last week (which by the way does not exist anymore)?

Also, I am thinking that billions and billions of relations inhere on each substance. Consider for example an object A which is moving. In relation to another object it moves at speed s1, in relation to a third object it moves at speed s2, etcetera; but there are billions and billions of objects around object A and, consequently it has billions and billions of speeds inherent on it. Do you believe Aristotle was able to discern those relations by contemplating the substances on which they were inherent?

Another thing!, there is a great amount of things that we have never seen, but if relations inhere on substances, by contemplating any of them we should be able to know all the others. A simple example: By contemplating the substance of a person, so to say, we should be able to discern (by inference) who his parents are, how many brothers and sisters he has, if they are younger or elder than him, heavier or lighter, taller or shorter.

Aristotle must have been aware of all this power; otherwise, how could have him said these amazing things (if he really did)?

 

[lmelahn]

So, coming back to your example, you believe that in the very act of tripping in the darkness you were able to apprehend the whole of the obstacle, infallibly, though confusedly. And for the variations that I proposed, when there is an error, you attribute it to a “spontaneous” reasoning (which is a kind of reasoning that happens to you, without your thinking, and which is neatly distinguishable from “apprehension”). I suppose that, according to you, “apprehension” and “spontaneous” reasoning always happen to you simultaneously. When there is an error (for example, when you think you are in front of a “whole” instead of two “wholes”), it is the “spontaneous” reasoning which fails; and when there is no error, the role of the “spontaneous” reasoning is just the confirmation of the apprehension.

Reasoning is “spontaneous” when it is based on habit. All of us, without exception, have the habit of the first principles (which allows us to see, for example, the principle of non-contradiction). We acquire other habits as we gain experience and systematic knowledge. (These habits constitute “knowledge” or “scientia” in the classical sense of the term.) This becomes important for my answer below.

But do you not see that, when there is no direct observation, we arrive at our conclusions through reasoning? The dog is absent from its doghouse (minor premise), but I cannot see it at the moment. I know from experience that bodies don’t simply disintegrate (major premise). I conclude (without much effort, but I conclude it nonetheless) that the dog is outside its doghouse. This isn’t heavy lifting, but it requires reasoning, because I am composing two judgments to make a third. (I even left out, for brevity’s sake, some of the intermediate steps that would have to be taken.)

Do you think animals suffer from that “spontaneous” reasoning as well? They also make mistakes that might be attributed to apprehension if they are not affected by an “spontaneous” reasoning.

No, because animals don’t even get as far as apprehension. They get as far as their estimative power, and no further. They neither apprehend (intellectually), nor judge, nor reason.

Let’s look at it even more closely, Imelahn: those aberrations were apparent only to certain theoretical minds, so to say. For someone else, the planets’ orbits were as they were and it was all what had to be said. But those theoretical minds had expectations, and the orbits of those planets did not satisfy them. So, there were some possible explanations: Kepler and Newton’s laws were wrong, or they were not universal; or they were universal, but there was an interaction (according to the same laws) between those planets and a big body that was unknown so far. So, the study of the aberration understood as an interaction allowed Le Verrier determine where should the big body be located, if there was any. Well, actually there was one and, as a consequence, the aberration had been rightly understood as an interaction. So, what was observed first was the interaction, and the celestial body that caused it was observed later, thanks to Galle.

What permitted the scientists to see the abberation was their scientia, their habitual knowledge, worked out through systematic reasoning.

However, consider this: if Jupiter and Saturn had been completely invisible, we would never have known they existed. We also could never have learned their characteristics and properties (e.g., the trajectory of their obits), much less the interactions between them. Most likely, we would never have discovered Neptune, or anyway, not so soon (unless we had happened to make a chance discovery by direct observation).

 

[lmelahn]

Shall we forget then about the “idea” of substance as “that which underlies…”?

I am not sure that we can completely jettison it. We must abandon crass interpretations, certainly. But we cannot abandon the idea that there is a single, unified principle that is perfected by accidents.

The important point is that, in reality, substance is that which is—simply and without qualification (substance in the first, most basic sense). It is also the principle that gives rise to and is perfected by the accidents (substance in the second sense, as co-principle with accident).

But we are not to think that there is a hidden substance “inside” or “underneath” the things that we encounter. No, substance in the second sense is just a principle of being, not a being in and of itself (that is substance in the first sense). Substance (in the first sense) cannot subsist without accident.

 

[lmelahn]

All this sounds really bad, Imelahn. Are you sure these are Aristotle’s doctrines?

This is more Aquinas than Aristotle, becaue Aquinas developed the topic much more thoroughly (since he was interested in Trinitarian dogma).

According to this we could not say that a pile of books is bigger than another pile, or heavier, etcetera, because they are not substances; so, accidents cannot inhere on them. Nothing prevents us from using a measuring tool to measure them, but after doing it anything we could say would be inappropriate; very useful, but wrong.

No, but books (and piles of books) are aggregates of substances. The relations can inhere in the constituent substances. Each page (constituted by paper, a substance) would have a position in the pile of books and a concrete layout in space. That arragement is the very basis for our measurement, so there is nothing improper or inappropriate there.

Also, we could not say that a color (or a sound) is more intense than another, because according to you, a color is an accident, and accidents cannot inhere on accidents. It could be useful if we measure them and compare them, but it makes no sense, right?

Color and sound are more complex phenomena than Aristotel or Aquinas imagined. But what prevents accidents from being more intense than others? We see it all the time in the phenomenon of temperature. And yet the temperature inheres in the substance.

So, for example, let’s suppose object A is more intensely blue than object B. Then object A has a relation of “more intensely blue than B,” and object B has a relation of “less intensely blue than A.” And we can even quantify that difference (a difference of so many candelae). We can do the same thing with temperature and density.

I don’t see the difficulty here. Color and temperature are classic quantitates virtutis or quantitates virtuales: qualities that come in varying degrees of intensity—i.e., intensive qualities.

And, Imelahn…, do relations inhere on the substances all the time, or only when they are close to the other substances with which they are related? For example, does it make sense to say that the horse in front of me is bigger than the one I saw last week (which by the way does not exist anymore)?

Relations are constituted by the very manner in which substances are ordered. The very distance between two bodies constitutes that mutual relation. Note that when this happens, we have what Aquinas called a real relation. Right now, my computer screen is about three feet in front of my face. That is its relation to me right now. Later on (when I get up to leave), that relation will change.

Relation (in the case of physical location) is not an accident in addition to the relative positions. It is those relative positions.

Regarding the horses, unless the horse you saw last week has died, it still exists. Hence (if that is the case), there is still a real relation of “larger” and “smaller” between the two horses. Again, that relation is constituted by the very difference in size between them—it is not something “in addition.”

Now, supposing last week’s horse has died. That means it no longer exists. Hence, there is, in fact, no longer any relation between this week’s horse and the dead (non-existent) horse.

What you have made (and in this case truly established) is what Aquinas calls a “relation of reason,” a purely mental relation that is not found in reality. It has a basis in past reality (the horse that no longer exists)—namely, in the characteristics of the dead horse, which you have apprehended in your mind.

Also, I am thinking that billions and billions of relations inhere on each substance. Consider for example an object A which is moving. In relation to another object it moves at speed s1, in relation to a third object it moves at speed s2, etcetera; but there are billions and billions of objects around object A and, consequently it has billions and billions of speeds inherent on it. Do you believe Aristotle was able to discern those relations by contemplating the substances on which they were inherent?

First of all, there is nothing wrong with having billions of accidents. We all have trilliions of cells in our bodies; each one has its own particular properties, and all those properties inhere ultimately in us, the substance.

There are as many spatial relations inherent in a body as there are physical substances to be related to. London (yes, I know that London is not a substance, technically, but like the pile of books, it is constituted by substances) is 214 miles away from Paris, 119 miles away from Brussels, 892 miles away from Rome, and so on. It has a concrete relationship to every city in the world. Even to every hamlet and village. (Remember, the relation consists in the very relative position and velocity of the substances involved—it is not something else tacked on to the substance.)

Continued…