How do we come to know things?

[lmelahn]

I think it’s actually easier to understand by treating the electron as a standing wave. …]

Right, but I think that calling it “empty” is misleading, because the electron density is actually greatest right near the nucleus (in the 1s orbital of a hydrogen atom, I mean).

That, however, is not the main thing: however atoms are configured microscopically, they produce the macroscopic phenomenon that we call solidity (or whatever it is—liquidity, gaseousness, plasma, or what have you).

…] We might think it plain fact that the matter in a tree comes from the ground, but really it comes mainly from the air. The carbon comes directly from converting CO[sub]2[/sub], while the water comes via the ground from rain in the air.

In my opinion, neither one is plain fact. By “plain fact,” I mean what can be known by direct experience. The idea that the gets its matter from the ground is a type of hypothesis, and as it turns out, one that does not hold up to experiment.

If we were to do an experiment to demonstrate where a plant gets most of its matter (here is a simple protocol, although if you wanted to publish that kind of experiment in a scientific journal, there would have to be better controls), we would still have to base our observations on direct experience: measuring the mass on a scale, reading the dials, making sure the plant is watered, and so on. We can’t escape from our dependence on direct experience.

This is what I mean (and what Aristotle meant) by “plain fact.”

That the plant derives its carbon from the air is a reasonable conclusion based on those plain facts. In retrospect, people were jumping to conclusions when they assumed that the plant got its matter mostly from the soil.

…] for the reason given by Brian Cox, atoms are mainly empty space, …]

Let us assume for the sake of argument that atoms are mostly empty space. (It really doesn’t matter, for our purposes.) What prevents us from saying that the solidity is real, but simply produced by those electric and magnetic fields?

The more we learn, the further away objective reality gets from Aristotle’s naive intuitions.

From his properly scientific, or pre-scientific theories, I agree. But (as I mentioned to UtUnumSint earlier), the sun rises and sets the same for Aristotle as for us. The difference is that now we know more about the solar system. We cannot, however, escape from that knowledge that is available to us through direct experience.

…] When Kirk tells Scotty to beam him up, how does the matter transporter know what is Kirk the thing? …]

That is easy: (even setting aside the technical difficulty—if not impossibility—of making such a device) the transporter would know nothing about the difference between Kirk and his boots. But then we are not really expecting it to: it is just a machine. It is sort of like asking whether the digital camera knows the difference between the persons in the photos it takes and the background. Of course, it has no idea (because it has no ideas, ever). But a good programmer can make a program that selects the persons or the faces in a photo. The program works, however, thanks to the programmer’s knowledge, not its own.

(In any case, if I were programming a transporter, I would want to program it so that the boots—not to mention my other clothes—come with me! )

Is the Sun just the disc, or does it include the solar wind? How far out? The Sun’s gravity never ends.

But the sun lacks the intrinsic unity that something like an organism has.

Aristotle makes blanket assumptions about what he supposes to be plain fact.

Those are his pre-scientific theories, as I mentioned.

I’m not sure about the ethics, given for instance, …].

Incidentally, I never said that Aristotle is to be followed in all of his ethical conclusions. (He also seems to think that some people are naturally only apt for slavery, for example.) However, a lot of his ethical principles are very much valid: his theory of virtues and vices, for example. We always need to sift through a philosophy (especially a pagan philosophy) and purify it of what is not acceptable.

This quote from the Summa is an unfortunate, or at least unfortunate-sounding, result of Aristotle’s primitive biology. He thought that generation was basically all done by the father, and that the mother’s role was entirely passive—that the male’s seed functioned like a plant seed, and the mother’s body like the soil. Hence, the male’s body (according to this theory) must be more “developed” than the female’s.

We now know that, if anything, it is the reverse: the female’s body is, if anything, even more marvelous than the male’s, and she certainly is responsible for the lion’s share of the physical “work” of generation. But neither Aquinas nor Aristotle, of course, had the possibility of using endoscopy or ultrasound to verify their theories.

Note that Aquinas absolutely does not assert that woman is inferior to man by nature, and in fact, it is the very concept of nature and substance that makes him affirm their equality in dignity. (To see this, please be sure to read the answer to Objection 1 all the way to the end.) In this, Aquinas made considerable progress over Aristotle.

More generally, the issue with natures is who gets to decide. More generally still, a lot of interpretation and excusing of known errors always seems to be necessary.

Substance and nature reveal themselves to us. We really have no trouble telling apart the ones that are most relevant to us: living things, and especially other human beings.

 

[lmelahn]

But our concept of an angel as a spiritual being depends on prior strings of abstractions. As Aristotle says, " All knowledge begins with the senses. "

Yes, good point.

 

[lmelahn]

Why not? It might be. I am sure that if you already consider all these examples established with a level of rigor similar to that of mathematics, you are able to reproduce the procedures. Why don’t you take only the first example? Only one of the examples should not take too long (for if it takes one’s life, how have you concluded already that it can be established?). Please, explain what makes mathematical proofs “rigorous”, and then show us here how the reasoning to conclude that “substances are composed of secondary…” features the same rigor. I think that is necessary, because examples about states and banks don’t help much really.

OK, we can discuss the first one (in fact, we probably should have started with that one), but remember, the method is not mathematical; it is resolutive, so the reasoning will look very little like a mathematical proof.

As far as it taking a life’s work, remember that these conclusions are the work of many authors, not just one, some of whom are a lot smarter than I am (Aristotle, Pseudo-Denys the Areopagite, Augustine, St. Thomas Aquinas, to name a few).

So, the basic idea is that we start with a simple recognition of certain things that are directly accessible to experience. We can rely on these, according to the expression in actu exercitu—by the very exercise of our intellects. There will be no “demonstration” on this level, only recognition, because these are the “givens” that are most reliable.

We are going to proceed by a threefold resolution, or analysis, considering (1) permanence and change, (2) unity and plurality, and finally (3) operative capacity and operation (action).

Permanence and change

So, let us consider some of the things that we come across. Careful (but direct) observation allows us to see that, across the board, many of the things that we come across have aspects that are remain the same (are permanent) and other aspects that change.

For example, a tree grows from a seed: it is manifestly the same organism from germination to adulthood, and yet it undergoes a tremendous increase in size—not to mention in development of its tissues and organs. This simultaneous permanence and change is most evident in living things, but it applies across the board to the vast majority of material entities we encounter: rocks can be changed in location; the sun and moon can be observed moving across the sky; and so on.

Everything so far is can be verified by direct observation, which—as I have mentioned—is our most reliable knowledge. We can verify its reliability in the very act of receiving it (in actu exercitu). (Yes, there have been philosophers who attempt to deny the permanence even of organisms, but their objections rely on data that are not derived from direct experience. More on that later, if we wish to discuss possible objections.) Now, let us draw the necessary conclusions.

That which is permanent cannot be exactly the same thing as that which changes—this is evident from the very notions of permanence and change (notions that we acquire from experience, as I noted). They must be really distinct. Otherwise, either the change would not be real (contrary to experience), or the the permanence would be illusory (also contrary to experience).

On the other hand, our experience also tells us that these things are one and whole: what is permanent is not a separate thing from what is changing.

Now, we will introduce our first properly metaphysical notion or concept: that of “principle” (Greek: arché, Latin: principium, literally “that which is first”). A “principle” is anything that comes before something else in some way. Principles can be fundamentally logical or ontological: that is, the principle can come first in the order of knowledge; or else, it could come first in the order of being.

For example, in the order of knowledge, the undefined terms and axioms are the principles of a mathematical system. There are also certain notions without which intellection is not possible (for example, “being”); and certain axioms that are necessary for any coherent knowledge (for example, the principle of non-contradiction). These are also principles in the order of knowledge.

In this case, by distinguishing that which is permanent from that which changes, we are getting our first glimpse into two ontological principles. Remember a principle is a “beginning,” that from which something is derived. The two principles are not things themselves, but only the principles on which a being depends.

The principle that is permanent, because it “stays permanent” (subsists), we will call “substance.” The principle that changes, because it “happens” (accidit), we will call “accident.”

A couple of observations at this point: this is only the first resolution. It only has to do with those cases in which there is obvious change—hence, it is not universally applicable—and it does not consider “properties,” characteristics that every member of a given species of thing must have. (For example, water has the ability to wet things.) More on this coming up…

(Continued…)

 

[JuanFlorencio]

OK, we can discuss the first one (in fact, we probably should have started with that one), but remember, the method is not mathematical; it is resolutive, so the reasoning will look very little like a mathematical proof.

As far as it taking a life’s work, remember that these conclusions are the work of many authors, not just one, some of whom are a lot smarter than I am (Aristotle, Pseudo-Denys the Areopagite, Augustine, St. Thomas Aquinas, to name a few).

So, the basic idea is that we start with a simple recognition of certain things that are directly accessible to experience. We can rely on these, according to the expression in actu exercitu—by the very exercise of our intellects. There will be no “demonstration” on this level, only recognition, because these are the “givens” that are most reliable.

We are going to proceed by a threefold resolution, or analysis, considering (1) permanence and change, (2) unity and plurality, and finally (3) operative capacity and operation (action).

Permanence and change

So, let us consider some of the things that we come across. Careful (but direct) observation allows us to see that, across the board, many of the things that we come across have aspects that are remain the same (are permanent) and other aspects that change.

For example, a tree grows from a seed: it is manifestly the same organism from germination to adulthood, and yet it undergoes a tremendous increase in size—not to mention in development of its tissues and organs. This simultaneous permanence and change is most evident in living things, but it applies across the board to the vast majority of material entities we encounter: rocks can be changed in location; the sun and moon can be observed moving across the sky; and so on.

Everything so far is can be verified by direct observation, which—as I have mentioned—is our most reliable knowledge. We can verify its reliability in the very act of receiving it (in actu exercitu). (Yes, there have been philosophers who attempt to deny the permanence even of organisms, but their objections rely on data that are not derived from direct experience. More on that later, if we wish to discuss possible objections.) Now, let us draw the necessary conclusions.

That which is permanent cannot be exactly the same thing as that which changes—this is evident from the very notions of permanence and change (notions that we acquire from experience, as I noted). They must be really distinct. Otherwise, either the change would not be real (contrary to experience), or the the permanence would be illusory (also contrary to experience).

On the other hand, our experience also tells us that these things are one and whole: what is permanent is not a separate thing from what is changing.

Now, we will introduce our first properly metaphysical notion or concept: that of “principle” (Greek: arché, Latin: principium, literally “that which is first”). A “principle” is anything that comes before something else in some way. Principles can be fundamentally logical or ontological: that is, the principle can come first in the order of knowledge; or else, it could come first in the order of being.

For example, in the order of knowledge, the undefined terms and axioms are the principles of a mathematical system. There are also certain notions without which intellection is not possible (for example, “being”); and certain axioms that are necessary for any coherent knowledge (for example, the principle of non-contradiction). These are also principles in the order of knowledge.

In this case, by distinguishing that which is permanent from that which changes, we are getting our first glimpse into two ontological principles. Remember a principle is a “beginning,” that from which something is derived. The two principles are not things themselves, but only the principles on which a being depends.

The principle that is permanent, because it “stays permanent” (subsists), we will call “substance.” The principle that changes, because it “happens” (accidit), we will call “accident.”

A couple of observations at this point: this is only the first resolution. It only has to do with those cases in which there is obvious change—hence, it is not universally applicable—and it does not consider “properties,” characteristics that every member of a given species of thing must have. (For example, water has the ability to wet things.) More on this coming up…

(Continued…)

It seems that you need to introduce explanations and preventions here and there. It is probably so because you need to start with definitions. It will look more like a mathematical proof if you do it, and it will make your argument clearer anyway. Can you do it, please?

 

[lmelahn]

Unity and Plurality

We will now go one step deeper.

As I said, in direct experience, the things that we encounter are one and whole. It takes quite a bit of theory to mentally “divide”*those objects into their constituent parts (e.g., no one know about the existence of cells until the 17th century, but no one had any trouble identifying animals and plants before then).

On the other hand, these things evidently also have various kinds of plurality: both over the course of time (as with the tree that grows from a seed) and at a given moment in time (as a single tree has many branches, and also many varied properties and characteristics).

Now, that which is one must be really distinct from that which is plural. The same thing cannot be both one and plural in exactly the same way; that would be a contradiction. And yet we see that, in fact, each thing we encounter is both one and plural. In this case, this observation is universally applicable—our direct experience affords no example to the contrary whatsoever.

In addition to the cases that we noted in the first section (the changes undergone by a single entity), we can note that everything has a number of properties—characteristics that follow necessarily from the kind of thing it is.

Sugar maple trees, for example, grow those hand-shaped leaves and produce sweet sap; dogs bark and wag their tails; diamonds are extremely hard and clear. These are just a few examples. The property cannot be identical with the thing itself, because there is always a plurality of properties.

As I noted, the distinction between that which is one and that which is multiple includes all of the phenomena that we discussed in the first section. It also covers other phenomena: namely the properties (those characteristics that do not change but, by reason of their plurality, may be distinguished from what is one).

We must, therefore, be encountering the same distinction as before: the principle that produces permanence we have called substance; it must also be the principle of unity. Likewise, the principle that permits change, which we called accident, must also be the principle that permits phenomenic plurality.

We have discovered in this resolution, however, that we can apply the term accident not only to those phenomena that actually change, but also to those which—although they do not change so long as the principle of unity (i.e., substance) subsists—can be distinguished from that substance by reason of their plurality.

(Continued…)

 

[John_Martin]

Why not? It might be. I am sure that if you already consider all these examples established with a level of rigor similar to that of mathematics, you are able to reproduce the procedures. Why don’t you take only the first example? Only one of the examples should not take too long (for if it takes one’s life, how have you concluded already that it can be established?). Please, explain what makes mathematical proofs “rigorous”, and then show us here how the reasoning to conclude that “substances are composed of secondary…” features the same rigor. I think that is necessary, because examples about states and banks don’t help much really.

There is a difference in students today -
In a mathematics curriculum, a student studies to learn the content of the texts and of the professors’ understandings, in order to make use of them, to put the science to work in exercise.
In a philosophy curriculum, a student studies about philosophers’ philosophies to critique and compare but never to use. There is no longer a “School of Aristotle” with young Aristotles seeing their lives as actual working models of his teaching, nor of Aquinas, nor of Kant, etc. Instead, if anything, there are model critics running about, who never look into themselves.

If you were to want lmelahn to provide an example, your part of the example would be that you would be his student and view yourself and your reality within the topic in terms of his description, “as if it were the only truth”, just as you might study and learn geometry in full “obedience” to the text of a geometry course. In geometry you do not say “my text says a circle has three hundred sixty degrees, but I think it would work better if we considered a circle having just three hundred”. As silly as that sounds, that is the silliness of what is happening in philosophy today - no subscription to a “school”. Only “curiosity” with no commitment, as if somehow you already know “the truth” and are somehow going to point out the plusses and minuses of any philosophy you study when you entertain their thought, such that the student is the judge of the teacher.

A true student says, “My teacher is true, teaching the truth”. When asked what that truth is, the student replies, “I don’t know yet, I am still learning from my teacher”. Then the question, “How do you know it is truth?” And the true student’s answer, “Because it is from my teacher, whose student I am.” That is lacking today. Or perhaps it is not lacking - if the teacher is teaching a history of philosophies but is no philosopher himself with no allegiance to any one philosophy, but only curiosity, not believing there are answers or truth, then the truth of the student is also that of his teacher - that there is no good answer.

 

[lmelahn]

The Proportion between Action and Operative Capacity

And finally we look at the actions (operari) produced by the things we encounter.

The things (entia) we encounter act only contingently: they may act or not act, and they may act in one way and not another. These actions are, therefore, really distinct from the principle of permanence and unity (substance) that we discerned above.

Now, an action can only be produced by an operative capacity that is in proportion to that action. (For example, in order for something to be capable of heating other things, the thing itself must be hot. In order for a lamp to light up a room, it must be luminescent—i.e., turned on. And so on. Again, this is a datum of experience.)

Since the very actions are varied—both in kind and in execution—and the operative capacity that produces them must be in proportion to them, it follows that operative capacities are themselves multiple and varied.

These operative capacities cannot, therefore, be identical with the principle of permanence and unity (substance). In this way, substance is revealed to be the principle also of the operative capacities, and hence the ultimate principle of operation (the immediate principle being the operative faculties).

Hence, substance is rightly also called nature (physis)—which means precisely “principle of operation.”

Conclusion

From the reality of permanence and change, the reality of unity and plurality, and from the proportion of operation to its operative capacity, we conclude that there is, in each thing we encounter, a single principle on which the permanence, unity, and action of the thing depends. We call that principle substance.

Likewise, that substance is in composition with the thing’s properties, characteristics, and actions, which we term accidents.

 

[lmelahn]

A couple of inevitable clarifying remarks:

• A thing, in reality, is its substance. It does not “have” a substance. On the other hand, a thing (or substance) “has” accidents.
• We should not expect a metaphysical demonstration to look like a mathematical proof. In particular, examples are essential, because they bring to mind our past experience, which are part and parcel of the demonstration.

I will probably think of more later on. Time to go to lunch!

 

[JuanFlorencio]

There is a difference in students today -
In a mathematics curriculum, a student studies to learn the content of the texts and of the professors’ understandings, in order to make use of them, to put the science to work in exercise.
In a philosophy curriculum, a student studies about philosophers’ philosophies to critique and compare but never to use. There is no longer a “School of Aristotle” with young Aristotles seeing their lives as actual working models of his teaching, nor of Aquinas, nor of Kant, etc. Instead, if anything, there are model critics running about, who never look into themselves.

If you were to want lmelahn to provide an example, your part of the example would be that you would be his student and view yourself and your reality within the topic in terms of his description, “as if it were the only truth”, just as you might study and learn geometry in full “obedience” to the text of a geometry course. In geometry you do not say “my text says a circle has three hundred sixty degrees, but I think it would work better if we considered a circle having just three hundred”. As silly as that sounds, that is the silliness of what is happening in philosophy today - no subscription to a “school”. Only “curiosity” with no commitment, as if somehow you already know “the truth” and are somehow going to point out the plusses and minuses of any philosophy you study when you entertain their thought, such that the student is the judge of the teacher.

A true student says, “My teacher is true, teaching the truth”. When asked what that truth is, the student replies, “I don’t know yet, I am still learning from my teacher”. Then the question, “How do you know it is truth?” And the true student’s answer, “Because it is from my teacher, whose student I am.” That is lacking today. Or perhaps it is not lacking - if the teacher is teaching a history of philosophies but is no philosopher himself with no allegiance to any one philosophy, but only curiosity, not believing there are answers or truth, then the truth of the student is also that of his teacher - that there is no good answer.

I have known many teachers who would be happy if your ideas were applied in their classrooms.

Years ago I had the opportunity to be a teacher and I never thought of asking the students to behave according to your indications. So far I have been able to handle the situations that can arise in a discussion; especially if it is a written discussion.

Now, what is happening here between Imelahn and I is not a relation teacher-student. But anyway it is interesting to know how you think.

Best regards
JuanFlorencio

 

[utunumsint]

What name can be given to a discourse which to Aloysium resembles a materialistic view, and to you resembles an idealism? Isn’t that funny? Still, it is not abnormal that such things happen. Even St. Thomas was going to be condemned, but St. Albert did a good job for him. If that happens to those who are righteous, what can we sinners expect?

I suppose it may depend on which parts of the thread I have read most closely.

My posts are there. You and Aloysium can come back to them as many times as you like. But every time you do it, you will -almost inevitably-, bring with you your references. This fact could help you understand what I say: how is your mind working to understand what I have said? Do the texts have the ability to impress their meaning on your mind? Do you, instead, superimpose your references over my discourse trying to see if there is a match?

We all come to discussions with some frame of reference. We try to find ways to square what others say in terms that we ourselves understand. Sometimes that has the effect of clarifying and sometimes quite the opposite occurs. But that is why dialog is important I think.

I have never distrusted my senses. It is through our senses that we belong to the realm of interactions. As I have said several times in this thread: *we are in the world *(and I say it not because I consider it a great discovery, but because I have seen that some persons here need it to be stressed). There is nothing naive in our senses.

Agreed. Its only that in previous posts, you expressed some doubts in our ability to know things in themselves. This seems to be a very idealist thing to say (DesCartes, Kant, and so on). So perhaps I jumped the gun in putting you into that category.

For the moment I tend to think that to Imelahn Aristotle’s prime philosophy is infallible or at least that it contains infallible elements (though he has not taken the opportunity to show which elements are those -which by the way would be his best defense).

LOL - I would rather say Imelahn is expressing strong certitude in their being true.

Besides he seems to think of knowledge in terms of “identity”, but sometimes he also seems to think that “reasoning” is not entirely reliable (though he has never said why). To me, no philosopher is infallible. Infallibility cannot be attributed to human intelligence.

You know, I think Aristotle and Aquinas’ philosophy is far more… humble than the later enlightenment philosophies that replaced them. Knowledge for them was something external, to be discovered, and internalized. Whereas Descartes and the like retreat to thought for some sure and “infallible” foundation, such as the cogito. I think this move was a mistake that lead either extreme idealism or, rejecting that path, extreme materialism. Aristotle and Aquinas see the world in the four dimensions of efficient, material, final, and formal causality. I acknowledge that formal and final causality may be a reification of thought only inert matter, but the more I study them, the more plausible their philosophy seems.

Also, as I have said in one of my posts before, to know is to establish relations, and so, knowledge is not an “identity”, but an essential, powerful, more or less effective and more or less efficient, “difference”.

I’ll take a close look at that one.

God bless,
Ut

 

[utunumsint]

We are in the world participating in a lot of interactions; still, that is not knowledge yet. Knowledge consists in establishing relations.

Well, you need things to relate before you can establish relations, no? I think with kids, they become conscious first of objects. Like a baby with a block. I think the first impression she has of an object is that it is a thing. Not in a conceptual way, but in the sense that something is there. it exists. Probably the next step in knowledge is discovering how it feels in the hands. If she is coordinated enough, she may be able to focus on it with her eyes. The data she collects about object grows and grows.

I am still floundering with Imelahn’s concept of identity with the object known though. In a certain sense, I suppose, the properties of the object become a part of her. When she grows in her understanding, she will begin to realize that the cube is an instance of the abstract concept, cube. Unless she takes a class in philosophy, she will probably not doubt the existence of the cubes she has encountered. So perhaps that knowledge is certain for her. The knowledge of cubeness is certainly a part of her knowledge. Reasonings about them and their relation with other things that are different certain comes next. A cube is not round, it is not triangular, and so on and so forth.

What is the significance of the question “what is knowledge?”

There is the word “knowledge” and other associated words in our vocabulary. There is a variety of discourses concerning “knowledge”. There are a lot of things around us, a lot of interactions taking place among those things, a lot of actions performed by us. Then we ask the question “amongst all these, what does the word ‘knowledge’ designate?”. The answer would be a relation: someone will select part of that complex reality and will tell you: “that is knowledge”. Then you will think “now I know what ‘knowledge’ is” or you will disagree. And if you disagree it will be either because you prefer to do a different selection or because you are in doubt about a variety of possible selections.

But if knowledge is an impression of reality onto our mind, and knowledge is a reality, why do we need to ask what it is?

I suppose we need to ask because it is the starting point of knowledge, right? Knowledge of the external world is certainly not the only knowledge we can have. In fact, we quickly raise above knowledge of things to knowledge more abstract and immaterial, such as truth, goodness, justice, and so on. Certainly the task of defining what is knowledge and was is not knowledge, or perhaps better, what is true and was is not true get far more difficult there.

God bless,
Ut

 

[Linusthe2nd]

To know is not to establish relations. To know is to comprehend the reality that exists ouside the mind, which would include, naturally, all the " relationships " existing in and between different substances and systems. Why insist in making this into some big mystery that is beyond Aristotle’s theory of knowledge and even beyond his Metaphysics.? So, far I am not convinced of the value of this discussion other than it has given Imelahn a chance to elucidate some important aspects of Aristotelian/Thomistic philsosophy.

Linus2nd

 

[JuanFlorencio]

I suppose it may depend on which parts of the thread I have read most closely.

We all come to discussions with some frame of reference. We try to find ways to square what others say in terms that we ourselves understand. Sometimes that has the effect of clarifying and sometimes quite the opposite occurs. But that is why dialog is important I think.

Absolutely! It isn’t a mystery, as Linus says, is it? And if you pay attention to yourself, you might observe that you use references not only when you read texts, but whenever you deal with objects in general: you are always comparing. That is one of the basic ways of knowing things: we can say that we know a thing “A” when we can say: Object “A” is like object “B” (and you will probably hear a passionate guy shouting: "And I entirely disagree!: Object “A” is like object ‘C’ ").

Agreed. Its only that in previous posts, you expressed some doubts in our ability to know things in themselves. This seems to be a very idealist thing to say (DesCartes, Kant, and so on). So perhaps I jumped the gun in putting you into that category.

Please, do me a favor: remind me of the post where I expressed those doubts.

God bless, Ut.
JuanFlorencio

 

[JuanFlorencio]

Well, you need things to relate before you can establish relations, no? I think with kids, they become conscious first of objects. Like a baby with a block. I think the first impression she has of an object is that it is a thing. Not in a conceptual way, but in the sense that something is there. it exists. Probably the next step in knowledge is discovering how it feels in the hands. If she is coordinated enough, she may be able to focus on it with her eyes. The data she collects about object grows and grows.

I am still floundering with Imelahn’s concept of identity with the object known though. In a certain sense, I suppose, the properties of the object become a part of her. When she grows in her understanding, she will begin to realize that the cube is an instance of the abstract concept, cube. Unless she takes a class in philosophy, she will probably not doubt the existence of the cubes she has encountered. So perhaps that knowledge is certain for her. The knowledge of cubeness is certainly a part of her knowledge. Reasonings about them and their relation with other things that are different certain comes next. A cube is not round, it is not triangular, and so on and so forth.

I suppose we need to ask because it is the starting point of knowledge, right? Knowledge of the external world is certainly not the only knowledge we can have. In fact, we quickly raise above knowledge of things to knowledge more abstract and immaterial, such as truth, goodness, justice, and so on. Certainly the task of defining what is knowledge and was is not knowledge, or perhaps better, what is true and was is not true get far more difficult there.

God bless
Ut

Like you, Imelahn thinks that relations exist in the “real order” (an expression he proposed to distinguish it from the “mental order”). I asked him: “and where are they?” The answer I got was that they inhere in substances; but that they are the most difficult to know -the less intelligible- amongst all the accidents (they would also be the most strange!). Suppose you have objects “A” and “B”, and after comparing them you say “A is bigger than B”, or “A is big, and B is small”. So, the relation must inhere, for example, in A. Then you see object “C”, and comparing it with “A”, you say “A is smaller than C”, or “A is small, and C is big”. Therefore, “A” is big and small simultaneously. And when Aristotle realized that there was a problem here he simply concluded: “therefore, ‘small’ and ‘big’ must not be contraries”.

He could also have concluded that relations do not inhere in substances, but that we establish them. But he preferred to say: “therefore, ‘small’ and ‘big’ must not be contraries”.

When you are able to ask “what is knowledge?” -not like someone who repeats a question that he has read somewhere else, but because it has become problematic to you-, you already know a lot. So, this question is not the starting point of knowledge. Please, read again my comment and reflect on it.

God bless
JuanFlorencio

 

[JuanFlorencio]

A couple of inevitable clarifying remarks:

• A thing, in reality, is its substance. It does not “have” a substance. On the other hand, a thing (or substance) “has” accidents.
• We should not expect a metaphysical demonstration to look like a mathematical proof. In particular, examples are essential, because they bring to mind our past experience, which are part and parcel of the demonstration.

I will probably think of more later on. Time to go to lunch!

I hope you had a great lunch time, Imelahn!

If I was expecting something similar in rigor to a mathematical demonstration, it was because you said it. But now that your examples are there, can you present the structure of your argument. You must have studied propositional logic. Please, present your argument proposition after proposition until the conclusion is reached (by the way, I also was expecting to read about the “secondary matter”; what happened to it?).

 

[JuanFlorencio]

No! However, I would appreciate it if you reminded me what your questions are, whenever you are ready.

As for me, we still have Post 397 pending.

One of my questions that you left unanswered was in my post #294. But take your time, we can leave that for later.

 

[lmelahn]

Well, you need things to relate before you can establish relations, no? I think with kids, they become conscious first of objects. Like a baby with a block. I think the first impression she has of an object is that it is a thing. Not in a conceptual way, but in the sense that something is there. it exists. Probably the next step in knowledge is discovering how it feels in the hands. If she is coordinated enough, she may be able to focus on it with her eyes. The data she collects about object grows and grows.

I am still floundering with Imelahn’s concept of identity with the object known though. In a certain sense, I suppose, the properties of the object become a part of her. When she grows in her understanding, she will begin to realize that the cube is an instance of the abstract concept, cube. Unless she takes a class in philosophy, she will probably not doubt the existence of the cubes she has encountered. So perhaps that knowledge is certain for her. The knowledge of cubeness is certainly a part of her knowledge. Reasonings about them and their relation with other things that are different certain comes next. A cube is not round, it is not triangular, and so on and so forth.

I think this is a very important point. Let me try to illustrate it with an analogy.

Suppose I take some object—it could be the wooden block in you example—and I place it in some clay.

Notice that the clay takes on the form (in this case, the three-dimensional, geometric “figure”) of the block. In a way, the clay takes on the very same form as the block.

Our intellect works something like the clay. Because we are spiritual, our souls are “malleable.” They can take on the “form” (in this case the metaphysical forms, not the geometric, physical forms) of the things they encounter. The operational capacity that actually does this “conforming” is the intellect.

Notice how the clay does not stop being clay when it takes on the form of the block. In the same way, we do not stop being ourselves when we (through our intellects) take on the forms of the things we experience.

There are, of course, a number of important differences between the clay and our souls, all of which stem from the most fundamental one: the fact the our souls are immaterial, whereas the clay, obviously, is material. Its is just an analogy to help us see. (For one thing, the clay doesn’t exactly take on the form of the block, but—if I can call it that—its “anti-form.” You get a hole where the block was. Our intellects don’t do that.)

An important similarity, however, is that, in order for the clay to take on the form of the block, the block has to act upon the clay. Here, I don’t just mean the mechanical action of the block being pushed into the clay: I mean, the block has its cubic form (perhaps with some number or letter patterns of something). It is the block—not the clay—that determines the form that the clay will take on.

That is the basic idea behind the doctrine of intentional identity of the knower and the thing known: there is no “distance” between them.

Or look at it another way: a material substance is always composed of an indeterminate, passive principle (prime matter) and an active, determinate principle (substantial form). (Note that the substantial form is absolutely not the same as the geometric “figure” of an object. It is the principle that makes a thing what it is—what makes a man a man, a dog a dog, and so on. In a living creature, it is the same thing as its soul.)

When our intellect encounters a thing, it functions like the prime matter, and allows itself to take on the substantial form of that thing (as well as some of the accidental forms).

But it is always the very same form that informs both the prime matter of the thing and our intellects (which are “malleable” like the matter). It is precisely that form which is identical between knower and thing known—in that sense we “become” what we know.

Does that help to explain the idea?

I suppose we need to ask because it is the starting point of knowledge, right? Knowledge of the external world is certainly not the only knowledge we can have. In fact, we quickly raise above knowledge of things to knowledge more abstract and immaterial, such as truth, goodness, justice, and so on. Certainly the task of defining what is knowledge and was is not knowledge, or perhaps better, what is true and was is not true get far more difficult there.

God bless,
Ut

But I think most of us are in agreement that the external, physical world is where our knowledge begins.

 

[lmelahn]

Like you, Imelahn thinks that relations exist in the “real order” (an expression he proposed to distinguish it from the “mental order”). I asked him: “and where are they?” The answer I got was that they inhere in substances; but that they are the most difficult to know -the less intelligible- amongst all the accidents (they would also be the most strange!). Suppose you have objects “A” and “B”, and after comparing them you say “A is bigger than B”, or “A is big, and B is small”. So, the relation must inhere, for example, in A. Then you see object “C”, and comparing it with “A”, you say “A is smaller than C”, or “A is small, and C is big”. Therefore, “A” is big and small simultaneously. And when Aristotle realized that there was a problem here he simply concluded: “therefore, ‘small’ and ‘big’ must not be contraries”.

He could also have concluded that relations do not inhere in substances, but that we establish them. But he preferred to say: “therefore, ‘small’ and ‘big’ must not be contraries”.

Just to clarify: when JuanFlorencio first spoke to me about “relations,” I immediately thought of a characteristic that is inherent in substance, because that is the meaning that Aristotle and Aquinas give the term. (It is important to know that meaning, by the way, because it has important repercussions in Trinitarian theology.)

JuanFlorencio has given to “relation” a meaning that is epistemological. I haven’t quite been able to nail this down, but I believe that JuanFlorencio’s “relations” correspond to my “judgments” or “composition-and-division.” (This is a first attempt at a sort of Rosetta stone between our systems.)

(A true fusion of horizons is happening here, I might add. )

So, to illustrate my idea: between my left hand and my right hand there is a relationship that cannot be reduced entirely to something in my mind. My left hand is always my “left” hand, which is a condition that can only exist in reference to my “right” hand (or—if I had an amputated limb or something—at least in reference to the rest of my body). And also vice versa.

That “left-ness” or “right-ness” is a characteristic of my hands; it is inherent in each of them. Even if I were to die right now, the left hand of my corpse would still be “left” with respect to my right hand. That is what I meant whenever I said “relations are inherent” and that “relations are discovered, not established.” I will call this kind of relation (following Aquinas here) a real relation.

Of another order altogether is the judgment that my intellect makes whenever I see my left hand: “This is my left hand.” I think I am right in saying that JuanFlorencio would regard this as a kind of relation. (How shall I baptize this kind of relation: a “Florentian relation”? Perhaps “mental relation” will do.)

I think we still differ somewhat as to how this “mental relation” is established: I think it is imposed by my hand on my intellect, because it is a fruit of direct experience. JuanFlorencio will need speak for himself how we “construct” that knowledge (which I believe is how he would see it).

When you are able to ask “what is knowledge?” -not like someone who repeats a question that he has read somewhere else, but because it has become problematic to you-, you already know a lot. So, this question is not the starting point of knowledge. Please, read again my comment and reflect on it.

God bless
JuanFlorencio

In this, we are in agreement, I think.

 

[lmelahn]

I hope you had a great lunch time, Imelahn!

If I was expecting something similar in rigor to a mathematical demonstration, it was because you said it. But now that your examples are there, can you present the structure of your argument. You must have studied propositional logic. Please, present your argument proposition after proposition until the conclusion is reached (by the way, I also was expecting to read about the “secondary matter”; what happened to it?).

Good point. The secondary matter is identical to the substance itself. I forgot to mention that. We just use that term to show that the substance functions as a kind of matter that is actualized by its accidents.

 

[Nixbits]

Imelahn:

Now, that which is one must be really distinct from that which is plural. The same thing cannot be both one and plural in exactly the same way; that would be a contradiction. And yet we see that, in fact, each thing we encounter is both one and plural. In this case, this observation is universally applicable—our direct experience affords no example to the contrary whatsoever.

Imelahn, I can’t follow what you mean by this (in post #443 concerning ‘Unity and Plurality’). If you have time, could you please explain, perhaps by means of an example? Many thanks.