How do we come to know things?

[Linusthe2nd]

,[snip]…
(3) So, what is substance/essence? It is to ti en einai: what something is, simply because it is. The idea is, some attributes (namely the accidents) show that you are a certain way (e.g., musical, funny, studious, sitting, standing, and so on), but only substance/essence shows you who you are, simply because you are:.

And this is always what I take to be the underlying substratum, the substance/essence/nature of the thing from which all the essential accidents flow as from nature, spontaneously. For example in Transubstantiation, the substance of bread and wine are changed into the Whole Christ, leaving only the accidents. And these include, dimensive quantity and all the physical attributes like, shape, weight, mass, structure, appearance, taste, smell, hardness -softness, sound, location, relation, etc. In other words, the nature/essence/substance has been changed. That is why I say that we see the accidents of a substance but know the substance in which those accidents necessarily inhere and from which they flow naturally, since the substantial form demands a certain designate matter appropriate to the form.

Linus2nd

 

[JuanFlorencio]

I am not necessarily in disagreement with you, but I think it is important to note that Aristotle and Aquinas have a slightly different understanding of “relation.” That is important, because, for example, the Church Fathers (and Aquinas) incorporate Aristotle’s concept into their doctrine on the Trinity.

For Aristotle (and Aquinas), a relation (Greek: pros ti, “towards which”) means a reference that one substance has to another. Strictly speaking, only substances can have relations, although relations can be attributed to accidents (such as the intellect; see below).

For example, “fatherhood” is a relation belonging to a child’s father; and “sonship” is a relation belonging to someone’s son. Notice that we can’t help but imagine relations in pairs: fatherhood and sonship, husband and wife, and so on, although their can be situations in which the relation is inherent only to one of the substances involved.

When I know something, for example, there is a relation established between me and the thing that I know. However, the thing that I know remains unaffected, per se. So the relation resides in me, but not in the thing that I know.

So, let’s look at your first example.

(I am going to have to open a whole can of worms here, but I would rather not open up a debate on this thread about how to interpret physical properties—just bear with me here, and I would be glad to discuss this later on, on a different thread.)

A physical property, such as momentum is, in Aristotelian parlance, a quality (a quality of the third species, but there no need to get into that at the moment). Momentum is basically the velocity of an object weighted by its mass, which indicates its capacity to change the velocity of another object—so, although it is measurable, it is not exactly a quantity in the classical (Aristotelian) sense (which would refer to an objects geometrical form and dimensions).

What the law of conservation of momentum tells us is that, between any two objects, there is always a mutual relation (in the strict Aristotelian sense) between them, such that the sum of each object’s momentum (mass times velocity) is always constant (assuming these are the only interacting objects, obviously.)

However, I would say that their relations (in Aristotle’s sense) of momentum are subject to change: the momenta of ball X and ball Y change during their collision. Hence, their mutual relations change as well, even though the sum of their momenta remains the same.

(Presumably, at first, ball Y has a momentum of 0, and ball X has a momentum of mv; afterwards, the situation is exactly reversed, assuming a perfect, head-on collision and equal mass.)

I think a similar reflection can be made about the other phenomena you describe.

Again, it is not that I am questioning the science behind it, or necessarily disagreeing with your position; I am just pointing out that there is discrepancy (it seems to me) between the meaning you are attributing to “relation” in your examples, and the way Aristotle and Aquinas take it. That difference needs to be taken into account when reading their philosophy.

Dear Imelahn:

Absolutely! But I never said that I mean exactly the same as Aristotle when I use the term “relation”. What would an Aristotelian say if I tell him that even “substance”, as a concept, is a set of relations? As for me, I have always been aware of the difference.

I am not aware, though, of any aristotelian law of conservation of momentum; and I really would be pleased to see how you could understand some of the physical phenomena that we know today using Aristotelian terminology. Please open your post and invite me!

Best regards
JuanFlorencio

 

[Linusthe2nd]

Dear Imelahn:

Absolutely! But I never said that I mean exactly the same as Aristotle when I use the term “relation”. What would an Aristotelian say if I tell him that even “substance”, as a concept, is a set of relations? As for me, I have always been aware of the difference.

I am not aware, though, of any aristotelian law of conservation of momentum; and I really would be pleased to see how you could understand some of the physical phenomena that we know today using Aristotelian terminology. Please open your post and invite me!

Best regards
JuanFlorencio

Don’t you think that is a little unfair! Imelahn doesn’t claim to be a scientist after all or even especially good at physics. I have an idea, Why don’t you explain how it’s done yourself. But I can tell you one thing there is nothing in the universe that excapes Arirstotle’s four causes or any of his other principles either.

Linus2nd .

 

[Linusthe2nd]

Case study in the conservation of momentum, just as a refresher

physicsclassroom.com/class/momentum/u4l2b.cfm

Linus2nd

 

[JuanFlorencio]

I agree with the second part—that we cannot know things unless they act upon us (and they have to act upon us for us to know them; it is not enough for them to be interacting with one another, because the news would never reach us, so to speak)—but, as you can probably guess, I disagree with the first part—that the object of our knowledge is interactions, rather than essences.

I will try to justify my position (and why I think it corresponds better with experience) below.

Of course, the interactions in which we participate are necessary for knowledge. The intention of my last two examples was to stress that our perceptions are the result of interactions (naturally, those that take place between the objects in front of us, but not less important, those in which we take part). Colors, odors, flavors, sounds, textures, thermal sensations, etcetera, are interactions. We belong to the realm of interactions. Now, it is an Aristotelian principle that there is nothing in our intellect that was not first in our senses. So, what I say should not be strange nor new for an Aristotelian.

But interactions are just the starting point of our knowledge. Interactions are the elements of our first relations; and from there we go on and on and on, without limits. This is what I mean when I say that we belong to the realm of relations.

It is here that Aristotle first defines substance or essence (which are perfectly synonymous for Aristotle—even the very same word, ousia) as “to ti en einai,” which I think is the key concept here.

Notice what Aristotle is doing: he is about to list his famous four species of causes, and if you look at the list, the first kind of cause is “formal cause” (followed a little further on in this passage by material, then efficient, and then final).

Hence, Aristotle is giving an extremely close association between the formal cause (the first of the four kinds of cause that he is about to list) and the substance/essence, without neatly identifying them. (Indeed, he rejects an identification in Book VII; see below. But it is a substance’s form that determines what kind of thing it is—its “species,” in technical terms.)

I really don’t think, therefore, that Aristotle is saying that “essence” is the same thing as “definition” (which, if I understood rightly, is what you concluded from this passage).

Instead, he says “the ‘why’ * is reducible * finally to the definition.” In other words, by learning the definition** of something, we are learning one of its causes: its formal cause, the type of thing that it is.

Keep in mind that in Book I, Aristotle is only posing the problems. His answer to the question of what substance (or essence) is can be found in Book VII (which is quite possibly the most difficult book to interpret in the history of philosophy!).

But I did not say that either. What I said was this: “the essence is finally reducible to the definition”. And I said that for two reasons: a) because aristotelians insist on saying that the “universal” (definition) is like the “essence” (not that they are the same thing, but like); and b) because we are talking about “how do we come to know things”, and it has been stated that we do know essences; but according to St. Thomas the essences, known, are the “universals”. St. Thomas says this in “De ente et essentia”

“The name “quiddity,” however, is taken from the fact that what is signified by the definition is the essence. But it is called essence from the fact that through it and in it a real being has existence.”

And,

“Neither can the form alone of a composed substance be said to be its essence, although some try to assert this. For it is evident from what has been said that essence is what is signified by the definition of a real thing. And the definition of natural substances contains not only form, but matter as well; otherwise natural definitions and mathematical ones would not differ.”

Was Aristotle imprecise in the text I proposed first (it is his text anyway!)? Probably. That might be one of the reasons why book VII is so difficult. Aristotelians and Thomists have to come to an agreement concerning the use of the terms “essence” and “form”. Meanwhile, whatever you say that we abstract from material objects (it’s form or it’s essence), I say: No, we don’t. What we do is to mimic interactions through relations. By the way, isn’t the fact that, as St. Thomas said, some assert that the essence of a composed substance is its form and some others say it is not, a proof that they do not abstract essences (because they do not know what they are! They are just playing an algebra of words, so to say).
lmelahn;12788664:

I you want to know how I interpret Book VII, stay tuned for my next post …

I do. I am studying it Imelahn, thank you!
JuanFlorencio

 

[JuanFlorencio]

Don’t you think that is a little unfair! Imelahn doesn’t claim to be a scientist after all or even especially good at physics. I have an idea, Why don’t you explain how it’s done yourself. But I can tell you one thing there is nothing in the universe that excapes Arirstotle’s four causes or any of his other principles either.

Linus2nd .

Dear Linus:

I really don’t think it is unfair. Imelahn kindly said something about physical phenomena that could be treated in the same way as he did with Momentum. I took his word.

I don’t have any clue how Aristotle could explain the physical phenomena that we know today. I do know that Aristotle in person failed in his treatment of some aspects of mechanics. But since he knew how to use his own notions, I think his failures might be an indication that they could be improved. Some philosophers preferred to reject the whole Aristotelian doctrine. On my side, I tend to think -based on the knowledge I have about his texts-, that he was a great philosopher, and so, I prefer to take advantage of his writings as much as I can; but as is proper for a philosopher I always need analyze them.

Best regards
JuanFlorencio

 

[Linusthe2nd]

Dear Linus:

I really don’t think it is unfair. Imelahn kindly said something about physical phenomena that could be treated in the same way as he did with Momentum. I took his word.

I don’t have any clue how Aristotle could explain the physical phenomena that we know today. I do know that Aristotle in person failed in his treatment of some aspects of mechanics. But since he knew how to use his own notions, I think his failures might be an indication that they could be improved. Some philosophers preferred to reject the whole Aristotelian doctrine. On my side, I tend to think -based on the knowledge I have about his texts-, that he was a great philosopher, and so, I prefer to take advantage of his writings as much as I can; but as is proper for a philosopher I always need analyze them.

Best regards
JuanFlorencio

We all know that his Celetial Mechanics was all wrong, something which was not settled finally until perhaps a thousand years later. Ditto with the heavy and light seeking their natural places, also not settled until an equally long time. But this does not invalidate his basic tenants. To ask anyone how his philosophy applies to conservation of momentum, something which Aristotle himself never considered, is like condemning Aristotle for not explaining how his philosophy applied to Newton’s laws of Inertia or of simply asserting that Newton’s laws of Inertia invalidated Aristotle’s philosophy. It is the kind of " gotcha " conundrum that doesn’t prove anything. So far, all the problems with Aristotle’s mechanics have been solved satisfactorily. The question is esoteric and not related to the O.P. that I can see.

Linus2nd

 

[JuanFlorencio]

So, we have established that essence (or substance, which is the same thing in Aristotle) is not simply a definition. (At least, I am sufficiently convinced that Aristotle did not mean that.)

Instead, we need to look briefly at a passage from Book IV, 1, in which Aristotle analyzes the various meanings of the word being (in Greek, to on, which is the present participle, hence it refers to concrete beings, not “being in general”):

Aristotle does not answer the question of how to on relates to ousia until later, in Book V, where does his famous fourfold division of being. It is not necessary to get into that now. Rather, it is sufficient to observe with Aristotle that ousia is what we think of most readily whenever we are using the term “being.”

(Notice how etymologically ousia comes from the verb to be in Greek, so to a Greek-speaking ear ousia will sound like “being par excellence.”)

In other words, we are talking about “beings” that stand by themselves, like all the things we encounter every day: birds, plants, rocks, other human beings, and so on.

What Aristotle is getting it is that we sometimes use the verb to be in other ways as well: to designate accidents (the tree is green); to designate negations (the tree is not an animal); or privations (I am sick—sickness is a privation of health). However, at least in its participial form, to on (which in Greek would be used more often than in English), “being” most properly means things that exist independently—i.e., ousiai (or substances/essences).

So, for Aristotle, is a bird an essence (or substance)? Yes, absolutely. Is the bird the same as its definition, or even its form? No. And here comes the insight from Book VII.

A substance, or essence, says Aristotle must have two specific characteristics: it must be tode ti (literally “this what”)—I should be able to say “this bird” or “that man;” and it must be choriston (that is, “separate”)—in other words, it should be a being that stands by itself, not an accident that inheres in another being.

In Book VII, Aristotle essentially analyzes three “candidates” for a substance, based on these two criteria.

(1) Could substance be the “underlying substrate,” as the Presocratics thought? No, he says, because it lacks definition and concreteness. A pile of bricks, he argues, do not make a house; they need a form. (In that case, it is strictly speaking an accidental form, but the idea can be applied to substances as well. A bunch of feathers, muscles, and bones do not make a bird.)

(2) Could substance be simply the “form,” or the “universal” of Plato? No, argues Aristotle, because substance/essence refers to this individual. (For Plato, universals are “separate”—they subsist—but not concrete.)

(3) So, what is substance/essence? It is to ti en einai: what something is, simply because it is. The idea is, some attributes (namely the accidents) show that you are a certain way (e.g., musical, funny, studious, sitting, standing, and so on), but only substance/essence shows you who you are, simply because you are:

There are some important observations, therefore:

1. 
   *]Substance/essence in Aristotle is primarily to be identified with concrete individuals that can stand independently. It is identified with what a thing is, simply because it is (to ti en einai).
   *]Substance (and in particular essence) cannot be reduced merely to the intelligible contents of a thing; that is its (substantial) form.
   *]The form cannot be reduced to a thing’s definition; the definition is only our poor attempt to express the contents of that form. Much less can the essence be reduced to a definition.
   *]Aristotle does say that we may speak of universal, abstract concepts as substances/essences (ousiai), but that, he insists, is only the secondary meaning of the term substance/essence. (He is reacting against Plato, who considered the universals—the ideas—to be the primary meaning of substance; we saw that Aristotle rejects such an outlook)

1. 
   Dear Imelahn:
   
   I think that all what you have said above, except what I underlined in red, sounds like Aristotelian philosophy. You can read in my previous post what St. Thomas says about essences and definitions. I would like to have your comments.
   
   What St. Thomas says about essence in particular is not different in other respects to what you have said. Do you agree?
   
   Concerning what I colored in green, I would like you to propose an example of the intelligible contents of any material object you like. Please…
   
   In regards to what I underlined in red, please confront it to the scholastic definition of truth, and let me know your comments too.
   
   Have a very nice day!
   JuanFlorencio

 

[JuanFlorencio]

We all know that his Celetial Mechanics was all wrong, something which was not settled finally until perhaps a thousand years later. Ditto with the heavy and light seeking their natural places, also not settled until an equally long time. But this does not invalidate his basic tenants. To ask anyone how his philosophy applies to conservation of momentum, something which Aristotle himself never considered, is like condemning Aristotle for not explaining how his philosophy applied to Newton’s laws of Inertia or of simply asserting that Newton’s laws of Inertia invalidated Aristotle’s philosophy. It is the kind of " gotcha " conundrum that doesn’t prove anything. So far, all the problems with Aristotle’s mechanics have been solved satisfactorily. The question is esoteric and not related to the O.P. that I can see.

Linus2nd

His celestial and his terrestrial mechanics too. But you need to read without too much passion, Linus. I said I did not know any Aristotelian law of conservation of momentum. If Aristotelian philosophy is or is not useful to explain Newton’s laws of inertia, I cannot say. Who has solved the problems with Aristotle’s mechanics, I would like to know. Still, as I said above, independently of anything, I think of Aristotle as a great philosopher and try to take advantage of his writings as much as I can. Please read this, and not what I did not write.

Good night!
JuanFlorencio

 

[Linusthe2nd]

His celestial and his terrestrial mechanics too. But you need to read without too much passion, Linus. I said I did not know any Aristotelian law of conservation of momentum. If Aristotelian philosophy is or is not useful to explain Newton’s laws of inertia, I cannot say. Who has solved the problems with Aristotle’s mechanics, I would like to know. Still, as I said above, independently of anything, I think of Aristotle as a great philosopher and try to take advantage of his writings as much as I can. Please read this, and not what I did not write.

Good night!
JuanFlorencio

Juan. If you want to start a thread about Aristotle’s mechanics and their short comings that would be most welcome. However, this post is about the way the human person goes about acquiring a knowledge of things outside the mind; that is, how the mind works. It is not a thread concerning how we acquire a particualr science, skill, or art. Please stick to the goal of the O.P.

Linus2nd

 

[lmelahn]

Dear Imelahn:

Absolutely! But I never said that I mean exactly the same as Aristotle when I use the term “relation”. What would an Aristotelian say if I tell him that even “substance”, as a concept, is a set of relations? As for me, I have always been aware of the difference.

An Aristotelian would say (thinking with his own concept of relation) that a substance does not consist in a set of relations, but that it does possess a set of relations (as inherent accidents).

I am not aware, though, of any aristotelian law of conservation of momentum; and I really would be pleased to see how you could understand some of the physical phenomena that we know today using Aristotelian terminology. Please open your post and invite me!

Best regards
JuanFlorencio

It isn’t that Aristotle knew the law of conservation of momentum. (He didn’t; so far as I know, it was Newton who first formulated it, although Kepler’s laws probably helped him develop his theory. In any event, the concept of momentum, as we know it, dates from the early modern period.)

However, that doesn’t make Aristotle’s categories invalid. In fact I think that Aristotelian hylomorphism would be very helpful to scientists nowadays.

This is a topic for another thread, but briefly, I think that all of the physical quantities that we are used to (mass, velocity, force, energy, momentum, charge, temperature, and so on) are actually “qualities” in philosophical terms. They can’t be reduced to mere quantity, because they are incommensurable: three meters is not the same thing as three kilograms, which is not the same thing as three Newtons, and so on, and there is no meaningful way to “convert” between them. (For instance, how many meters are in a Coulomb? The question is meaningless.)

They represent what Aristotle would call an “active potency” (a dynamis or virtus): a capacity (inherent in a substance) to effect a change in other substances.

There is no need to discard the advances of modern physics, or any other science, but I think it is interesting to see how Aristotle’s metaphysical system can apply to them.

 

[lmelahn]

Of course, the interactions in which we participate are necessary for knowledge. The intention of my last two examples was to stress that our perceptions are the result of interactions (naturally, those that take place between the objects in front of us, but not less important, those in which we take part). Colors, odors, flavors, sounds, textures, thermal sensations, etcetera, are interactions. We belong to the realm of interactions. Now, it is an Aristotelian principle that there is nothing in our intellect that was not first in our senses. So, what I say should not be strange nor new for an Aristotelian.

But interactions are just the starting point of our knowledge. Interactions are the elements of our first relations; and from there we go on and on and on, without limits. This is what I mean when I say that we belong to the realm of relations.

But I did not say that either. What I said was this: “the essence is finally reducible to the definition”. And I said that for two reasons: a) because aristotelians insist on saying that the “universal” (definition) is like the “essence” (not that they are the same thing, but like); and b) because we are talking about “how do we come to know things”, and it has been stated that we do know essences; but according to St. Thomas the essences, known, are the “universals”. St. Thomas says this in “De ente et essentia”

“The name “quiddity,” however, is taken from the fact that what is signified by the definition is the essence. But it is called essence from the fact that through it and in it a real being has existence.”

And,

“Neither can the form alone of a composed substance be said to be its essence, although some try to assert this. For it is evident from what has been said that essence is what is signified by the definition of a real thing. And the definition of natural substances contains not only form, but matter as well; otherwise natural definitions and mathematical ones would not differ.”

Was Aristotle imprecise in the text I proposed first (it is his text anyway!)? Probably. That might be one of the reasons why book VII is so difficult. Aristotelians and Thomists have to come to an agreement concerning the use of the terms “essence” and “form”. Meanwhile, whatever you say that we abstract from material objects (it’s form or it’s essence), I say: No, we don’t. What we do is to mimic interactions through relations. By the way, isn’t the fact that, as St. Thomas said, some assert that the essence of a composed substance is its form and some others say it is not, a proof that they do not abstract essences (because they do not know what they are! They are just playing an algebra of words, so to say).

I do. I am studying it Imelahn, thank you!
JuanFlorencio

Just one thing: I don’t think Aquinas or Aristotle ever said that the universal is the same thing as the definition. The definition is simply the (very imperfect) verbal expression of the universal.

A universal (a.k.a. “secondary substance” in Aristotle; a.k.a “idea” in Plato; sometimes called “species” or “genus,” depending on the specificity) is simply a set real substances, but considered in the abstract, as when we say “mankind.”

Universals don’t really exist, except in the real, concrete substances that participate in them. Both Aristotle and Aquinas are very insistent about that.

So, when Aquinas says that we know the “universal,” you have to understand him in that light. We know the universal that is found in real, concrete substances.

To be perfectly precise, Aquinas does not deny that we know concrete substances (essences). However, he says that we need the intellect to grasp the universal (the abstract notion), together with the vis cogitativa (an internal sense, as I mentioned) to grasp the individual substance.

(By the way, De ente et essentia reflects some of Thomas early work, and he appears to have changed his mind later on about some of his affirmations—and that includes his understanding of essence. I find that his more mature thought is superior and more consistent—but that is definitely beyond the scope of this thread.)

In sum, we have:

• The essence (or substance), which is the concrete individual. In a material substance, the active, determining principle is called the form.
• The universal which is the abstract notion that permits us to know that essence.
• The definition, which is the verbal expression of that universal.

And these are all distinct from one another, but related.

 

[lmelahn]

Dear Imelahn:

I think that all what you have said above, except what I underlined in red, sounds like Aristotelian philosophy. You can read in my previous post what St. Thomas says about essences and definitions. I would like to have your comments.

What St. Thomas says about essence in particular is not different in other respects to what you have said. Do you agree?

Concerning what I colored in green, I would like you to propose an example of the intelligible contents of any material object you like. Please…

In regards to what I underlined in red, please confront it to the scholastic definition of truth, and let me know your comments too.

Have a very nice day!
JuanFlorencio

Regarding not “reducing” forms to their definition, I mean, a form is not merely a definition (which is just a verbal expression). A form is an intrinsic, ontological principle that gives being to a material substance’s matter. (There is a famous, or infamous, maxim of St. Thomas that says forma dat esse. How you interpret that maxim defines entire schools of Thomism!)

So, in a material substance, the (substantial) form is the source of the substance’s actuality and definiteness. The (prime) matter—which is the co-principal together with substantial form—is the source of its indeterminacy. Likewise, accidental forms give a substance its due perfections (even though they receive their being from the essence that they reside in).

(An “accidental form” is just an accident, but looked at as a perfection or further determination of a substance. In this case, substance—which is already informed by its accidental form—functions as a sort of “secondary matter” for the accidents.)

Since we can only know that which is (which is the basis for the transcendental verum, by the way), it follows that the intelligible portion of a material substance is its form (any kind of form: substantial or accidental). That is the “intelligible contents” that I was referring to.

Anything else that we know about a thing—the so-called “common matter”—we know through the mediation of these forms.

But here is an important point: we know by means of the substantial form and accidental forms. What we know, however, is the substance (or essence), whole and entire.

Perhaps we could say the following:

• The relations you mention, in Thomistic terms, are, or are reducible to, accidental forms: momentum, energy, mass, etc.
• The interactions you mention are actions or operari produced by those accidents.
• We know substances (or essences), whole and entire; however, we know them by means of such interactions and relations.

(Operari is just a fancy name for “actions”—it just the infinitive of the verb operor, “to act.”)

What I want to stay away from is so-called “phenomenalism”: the idea that the object of our knowledge is either the properties or the actions produced by substances, leaving the substance unknown. That idea is foreign to Aristotle and Aquinas. And I don’t think it corresponds to experience either.

Look at a child’s knowledge, for example. Does he know first and spontaneously the interactions (operari) he has with his mother, or does he know his mother (a substance), by means of those interactions?

 

[JuanFlorencio]

Regarding not “reducing” forms to their definition, I mean, a form is not merely a definition (which is just a verbal expression). A form is an intrinsic, ontological principle that gives being to a material substance’s matter. (There is a famous, or infamous, maxim of St. Thomas that says forma dat esse. How you interpret that maxim defines entire schools of Thomism!)

So, in a material substance, the (substantial) form is the source of the substance’s actuality and definiteness. The (prime) matter—which is the co-principal together with substantial form—is the source of its indeterminacy. Likewise, accidental forms give a substance its due perfections (even though they receive their being from the essence that they reside in).

(An “accidental form” is just an accident, but looked at as a perfection or further determination of a substance. In this case, substance—which is already informed by its accidental form—functions as a sort of “secondary matter” for the accidents.)

Since we can only know that which is (which is the basis for the transcendental verum, by the way), it follows that the intelligible portion of a material substance is its form (any kind of form: substantial or accidental). That is the “intelligible contents” that I was referring to.

Anything else that we know about a thing—the so-called “common matter”—we know through the mediation of these forms.

But here is an important point: we know by means of the substantial form and accidental forms. What we know, however, is the substance (or essence), whole and entire.

Perhaps we could say the following:

• The relations you mention, in Thomistic terms, are, or are reducible to, accidental forms: momentum, energy, mass, etc.
• The interactions you mention are actions or operari produced by those accidents.
• We know substances (or essences), whole and entire; however, we know them by means of such interactions and relations.

(Operari is just a fancy name for “actions”—it just the infinitive of the verb operor, “to act.”)

What I want to stay away from is so-called “phenomenalism”: the idea that the object of our knowledge is either the properties or the actions produced by substances, leaving the substance unknown. That idea is foreign to Aristotle and Aquinas. And I don’t think it corresponds to experience either.

Look at a child’s knowledge, for example. Does he know first and spontaneously the interactions (operari) he has with his mother, or does he know his mother (a substance), by means of those interactions?

Dear Imelahn:

I would like to insist on one of my previous requests: Select any material object of your preference and describe its intelligible content. Let’s see what it is. Please, notice that I am not asking what “intelligible content” means in general, or what are the other notions to which it is related within the Aristotelian philosophies. I am asking you to pick up a material entity among those that surround you (or among those that have surrounded you), and for that entity please say its intelligible content.

Best regards
JuanFlorencio

 

[JuanFlorencio]

What I want to stay away from is so-called “phenomenalism”: the idea that the object of our knowledge is either the properties or the actions produced by substances, leaving the substance unknown. That idea is foreign to Aristotle and Aquinas. And I don’t think it corresponds to experience either.

Look at a child’s knowledge, for example. Does he know first and spontaneously the interactions (operari) he has with his mother, or does he know his mother (a substance), by means of those interactions?

If you respond conveniently to my request in the previous post, you will have shown that we know substances, against phenomenalists.

I distinguish between interacting with an entity (like the child with her mother), and knowing it. To me, there is no question that the child is in the presence of his mother (in her entirety, so to say), but knowing her? He will need to spend decades for it, and it will not be enough. For aristotelians, knowing your mother might simply mean that you identify her as a rational animal. For me such thing is almost equivalent to not knowing her at all. Over the years, the child might come to know her mother through his interactions with her, and this would mean that he could become able to say things like this: “Under such and such circumstances, she will behave so and so for this or for that reason”. I would say that some aristotelians (but not Aristotle…, never Aristotle) would consider that the child knows her mother if he is able to recognize her (that is the way in which my cat knows me). I regard that as a very poor knowledge.

Best regards!
JuanFlorencio

 

[lmelahn]

If you respond conveniently to my request in the previous post, you will have shown that we know substances, against phenomenalists.

I distinguish between interacting with an entity (like the child with her mother), and knowing it. To me, there is no question that the child is in the presence of his mother (in her entirety, so to say), but knowing her? He will need to spend decades for it, and it will not be enough. For aristotelians, knowing your mother might simply mean that you identify her as a rational animal. For me such thing is almost equivalent to not knowing her at all. Over the years, the child might come to know her mother through his interactions with her, and this would mean that he could become able to say things like this: “Under such and such circumstances, she will behave so and so for this or for that reason”. I would say that some aristotelians (but not Aristotle…, never Aristotle) would consider that the child knows her mother if he is able to recognize her (that is the way in which my cat knows me). I regard that as a very poor knowledge.

Best regards!
JuanFlorencio

Well, I think that we need to distinguish between different degrees of knowledge:

The lowest, and poorest, is sensual knowledge, which all of the higher animals share with us. That is sufficient for an animal (or including a rational animal—a man) to recognize someone. This is not intellectual knowledge, naturally. But it bears a certain resemblance to intellectual knowledge, in that a sensual representation is formed in the animal’s, or person’s, internal senses. In human beings, it is also the necessary pre-cursor to all intellectual knowledge (Nihil est in intellectu quod prius non fuerit in sensu).

(When I get a chance, I will skim over the De anima again, but I am pretty sure that Aristotle considers sensual apprehension a kind of knowledge—I would be curious to see the precise term he uses. At the end of the day, the precise term is less important, as long as we understand that there is an analogy between sensual apprehension and intellectual knowledge, and that, for us, the former is a necessary precursor for the latter.)

Of course, when I say “knowledge” tout-court, I usually mean intellectual knowledge, which consists in the intentional identity of the subject that knows with the thing that is known, by means of his intellect.

Intellectual knowledge, however, comes in degrees. I could have merely adequate knowledge of something—enough to be able to identify the thing and know some of its properties. That is the status of all of our knowledge, and so it is always capable of improvement. A very young child starts out with merely sensual knowledge of his mother; then, as his nervous system develops, he begins to have truly intellectual knowledge of her (not that the intellect resides in the brain, but it needs the brain in order to function). However, he is constantly improving that knowledge. Certainly, it is through his interactions with his mother (and also through third parties) that his knowledge becomes deeper.

Finally, intellectual knowledge could be comprehensive, which is the most perfect kind of knowledge. It means that we know a substance completely in every aspect. For us humans, that is impossible. Only God can do that.

As regards the intellectual contents, remember what I said: I am not going to be able to express it fully in words, because it is something that my intellect abstracts automatically from the things that it sees. A definition is always a poor verbal representation of an essence (or substance). We are not normally aware of abstraction, unless we pay attention to it.

In any event, for my attempt to answer that question, please see the following post…

 

[lmelahn]

So the question is, what is the intelligible contents of a given material object?
In epistemology, are three realities that we have to consider in descending order of ontological richness: (1) the thing known (substance or essence), which is the richest reality; (2) the intellectual representation (notion and judgment) by which we know it, which is in second place; (3) the verbal expression (definition or proposition—or language in general), which is the poorest.

So, which material substance shall we analyze? How about my favorite one in this thread: the umbrella pine (Pinus pinea) outside my window. (I choose it because it is clearly and unambiguously a substance in the Aristotelian sense.)

Allow me, first, to observe how I came to know and recognize this umbrella pine (which will help me to answer your question about the intellectual contents).

When I first came to Rome, about 16 years ago now, I saw a Pinus pinea for the first time in my life. There are some very nice ones on the Janiculum Hill, just outside the Vatican. I remember very well seeing them on the crest of the hill, and remarking, “Wow, I have never seen that kind of tree before.”

I did not know what they were called, nor did I realize that they were pines (all of the pines I had experience with until then were Christmas-tree-shaped), but observe that I already had intellectual knowledge of those trees, the moment I set my eyes on them. It was hardly comprehensive knowledge, but I did have adequate (if still very poor) knowledge of them. I already knew that they were trees, at least.

Nor was a conscious of having any interaction with those trees. I simply saw them, and knew them (albeit poorly and generically). Now that I think about it, I realize, of course, that I was seeing light reflected off them, and that that is an interaction. But it was not necessary for me to be thinking about that when I was getting to know them for the first time.

Over time, I came to know a lot more about umbrella pines. (Among the amusing things you have to watch out for is falling pine cones. They are really tall trees, and so one of those pine cones could give you a really nice welt on the head.) I still have not reached comprehensive knowledge (which is impossible for anyone but God), but I have enriched my understanding of Pinus pinea quite a bit in 16 years.

Finally, there is the pine tree outside my window, which I am looking at now. In the very act of looking at it, I recognize it as a Pinus pinea, and I know that, when it reaches adulthood, it will have all the properties of a Pinus pinea (including releasing pine cone missiles). Although interactions with the tree are necessary for me to know it (at least at first—now, I can rely on my imagination and memory), these interactions are taken care of spontaneously by my sensual faculties. I can, if I wish, concentrate fully on simply contemplating or studying the pine tree.

Since I have intellectual knowledge of the pine tree, it must have some intelligible contents. Now, as I mentioned, my intellect spontaneously grasped the complete pine tree, whole and entire; in order to be aware that interactions were necessary for me to obtain that knowledge, I had to think about it. (Do you see what I mean, when I say that the first thing we know is substance? Not substance inasmuch as it is a metaphysical principle, but substances: like trees, ducks, and stones.)

“Thinking about our thought processes” is an example of reflexive analysis, which is what we are going to have to do to get to the intelligible contents of the pine tree. (The intelligible contents is not something we spontaneously think about.)

I will spare the reader all the analysis that Aristotle does to establish that substance has (at least) a twofold composition: the first is between substance (understood here as the underlying “substrate”) and the accidents that inhere in it. (Aristotle sometimes refers to this same composition as between secondary matter—i.e. substance—and accidental form.) The second is a deeper composition between prime matter and substantial form. St. Thomas posits a third composition, between an essence and its act of being, to account for angelic natures and the hierarchy of being—but since we are limiting our discourse only to material beings, we can leave this third one aside for the moment. I imagine that all the followers of Aristotle and Thomas on this thread are familiar with this.

(To be perfectly precise, in reference to Linus’ thread on substance, the substance—understood as supposit—is composed into substance—understood as ontological principle—and accident. In turn, the substance—understood as ontological principle—is composed into matter and form. Perhaps my position could be made more palatable if I specified that what we know immediately is supposits, not substance understood as an ontological principle. So perhaps from now on, for clarity’s sake, I will follow St. Thomas’ convention and use “supposit” to refer to substance taken as a whole individual, and “essence” when I refer to substance as an ontological principle.)

So, let’s follow Aristotle’s method of tollendo ponens. We know that the intelligible contents has to be found among at least one of these constitutive principles of a supposit.

(I am going to have to break this up into another post, I am afraid…)*

 

[lmelahn]

So keeping in mind that it is the pine tree, considered as a whole—the supposit—that I came to know immediately, we can ask, does the essence (substance as ontological principle) contain the intelligible contents, or the accident?

Well, the answer is “both.” It is clear that the accidents can be characterized as an “accidental form;” it is the accidents that give a supposit its perfection, and perfection—act—is clearly something that our intellects can grasp. However, the accidents are insufficient here. When I saw that pine tree for the first time, I did not see a blob of green and brown; in the very act of seeing it, I saw a pine tree.

OK, so there must be intelligible contents in the essence (ontological principle) itself. That makes sense, because, as Aristotle demonstrates quite nicely in his infamous Metaphysics Book VII (right at the opening), substance (his ousia or to ti en einai) is ontologically prior to accident.

So, this essence (substance as ontological principle) is composed of prime matter and substantial form. The intelligible contents can hardly be in the matter, which accounts for the pine tree’s lack of definition. The being of the pine tree comes through the form, not the matter. Notice that it is the substantial form that give the pine tree its unity; otherwise it would simply be a collection of pine needles, branches, trunk, and roots. (Since the pine tree is a living thing, we may rightly call that substantial form its “soul,” understanding, of course, that it is not a spiritual soul.)

Between prime matter and substantial form, then, it is clearly the substantial form that provides the bulk of the intelligible contents of my pine tree. And it must be that substantial form that I grasped (however imperfectly) the first time I saw it, and immediately recognized it as a Pinus pinea.

Clearly, ever since that time, I have been filling in with knowledge of the various accidental forms. Notice, however, that the accidental forms are, so to speak, at the service of the substantial form. As I observed above, I never see shapeless blobs of green and brown, but a tree. When the tree grows up (it’s not currently tall enough for this), I will need to fend off its pine cones (which I know come from that tree), not simply random brown masses.

So that is the answer: the intelligible contents consists primarily in the tree’s substantial form; upon further reflection, I can see that I come to this contents by means of the tree’s accidental forms. And these accidental forms have a contents of their own, which is, however, always subordinate to the substantial form.

However, the notion that I have in my intellect is that of a whole and complete pine tree. If I examine that notion, I can observe that it contains virtually a whole series of more general notions: tree, plant, living thing, body, substance, being—and that hierarchy constitutes the basis for the genera and species to which it belongs.

That is how I can come up with a definition (verbal expression) of the species Pinus pinea (definitions are always universal, of course): an evergreen tree of the pine family, native to the Mediterranean region characterized by the umbrella-shaped canopy of adults.

(Even the definition shows how it was through the accidents—like the umbrella-shape and its native location—that I came to the supposit—a tree of the pine family. And yet it was the supposit that I knew first.)

Incidentally, in case everyone is wondering, a Pinus pinea looks like the following:



(“Pinie irgendwo toscana” by Kofler Jürgen—self made by Juko. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons.)

 

[JuanFlorencio]

So the question is, what is the intelligible contents of a given material object?

So, which material substance shall we analyze? How about my favorite one in this thread: the umbrella pine (Pinus pinea) outside my window. (I choose it because it is clearly and unambiguously a substance in the Aristotelian sense.)

Allow me, first, to observe how I came to know and recognize this umbrella pine (which will help me to answer your question about the intellectual contents).

When I first came to Rome, about 16 years ago now, I saw a Pinus pinea for the first time in my life. There are some very nice ones on the Janiculum Hill, just outside the Vatican. I remember very well seeing them on the crest of the hill, and remarking, “Wow, I have never seen that kind of tree before.”

I did not know what they were called, nor did I realize that they were pines (all of the pines I had experience with until then were Christmas-tree-shaped), but observe that I already had intellectual knowledge of those trees, the moment I set my eyes on them. It was hardly comprehensive knowledge, but I did have adequate (if still very poor) knowledge of them. I already knew that they were trees, at least.

Certainly, Imelahn, it was a very poor knowledge; one that resembles my cat’s knowledge.

Nor was a conscious of having any interaction with those trees. I simply saw them, and knew them (albeit poorly and generically). Now that I think about it, I realize, of course, that I was seeing light reflected off them, and that that is an interaction. But it was not necessary for me to be thinking about that when I was getting to know them for the first time.

Exactly, when you simply “see” objects, you are reduced to the realm of interactions. At that moment you don’t know those objects, though you are in their presence. It is until you think about them that you emerge into the realm of relations and then we can say that your knowledge of them starts.

Over time, I came to know a lot more about umbrella pines. (Among the amusing things you have to watch out for is falling pine cones. They are really tall trees, and so one of those pine cones could give you a really nice welt on the head.) I still have not reached comprehensive knowledge (which is impossible for anyone but God), but I have enriched my understanding of Pinus pinea quite a bit in 16 years.

Finally, there is the pine tree outside my window, which I am looking at now. In the very act of looking at it, I recognize it as a Pinus pinea, and I know that, when it reaches adulthood, it will have all the properties of a Pinus pinea (including releasing pine cone missiles). Although interactions with the tree are necessary for me to know it (at least at first—now, I can rely on my imagination and memory), these interactions are taken care of spontaneously by my sensual faculties. I can, if I wish, concentrate fully on simply contemplating or studying the pine tree.

Since I have intellectual knowledge of the pine tree, it must have some intelligible contents. Now, as I mentioned, my intellect spontaneously grasped the complete pine tree, whole and entire; in order to be aware that interactions were necessary for me to obtain that knowledge, I had to think about it. (Do you see what I mean, when I say that the first thing we know is substance? Not substance inasmuch as it is a metaphysical principle, but substances: like trees, ducks, and stones.)

I can see, Imelahn, that the “knowledge” you are referring to is not superior to my cat’s “knowledge”, as I mentioned above.

“Thinking about our thought processes” is an example of reflexive analysis, which is what we are going to have to do to get to the intelligible contents of the pine tree. (The intelligible contents is not something we spontaneously think about.)

I will spare the reader all the analysis that Aristotle does to establish that substance has (at least) a twofold composition: the first is between substance (understood here as the underlying “substrate”) and the accidents that inhere in it. (Aristotle sometimes refers to this same composition as between secondary matter—i.e. substance—and accidental form.) The second is a deeper composition between prime matter and substantial form. St. Thomas posits a third composition, between an essence and its act of being, to account for angelic natures and the hierarchy of being—but since we are limiting our discourse only to material beings, we can leave this third one aside for the moment. I imagine that all the followers of Aristotle and Thomas on this thread are familiar with this.

(To be perfectly precise, in reference to Linus’ thread on substance, the substance—understood as supposit—is composed into substance—understood as ontological principle—and accident. In turn, the substance—understood as ontological principle—is composed into matter and form. Perhaps my position could be made more palatable if I specified that what we know immediately is supposits, not substance understood as an ontological principle. So perhaps from now on, for clarity’s sake, I will follow St. Thomas’ convention and use “supposit” to refer to substance taken as a whole individual, and “essence” when I refer to substance as an ontological principle.)

I hope you are not considering all this as part of the intelligible content of the pine tree. This is part of the intelligible content of a Thomistic doctrine, but not of the pine tree.

 

[JuanFlorencio]

So keeping in mind that it is the pine tree, considered as a whole—the supposit—that I came to know immediately, we can ask, does the essence (substance as ontological principle) contain the intelligible contents, or the accident?

Well, the answer is “both.” It is clear that the accidents can be characterized as an “accidental form;” it is the accidents that give a supposit its perfection, and perfection—act—is clearly something that our intellects can grasp. However, the accidents are insufficient here. When I saw that pine tree for the first time, I did not see a blob of green and brown; in the very act of seeing it, I saw a pine tree.

Just like my cat, Imelahn: he doesn’t behave before a tree as if it were a blob of green and brown. Do you want to mean that my cat grasps the substance of material objects? Wouldn’t it imply, according to the Thomistic doctrine, that it would have agent and passive intellects too?

As an aside, I just want to say for the moment that accidents such like color, odor, and others, do not inhere in the substance.

OK, so there must be intelligible contents in the essence (ontological principle) itself. That makes sense, because, as Aristotle demonstrates quite nicely in his infamous Metaphysics Book VII (right at the opening), substance (his ousia or to ti en einai) is ontologically prior to accident.

So, this essence (substance as ontological principle) is composed of prime matter and substantial form. The intelligible contents can hardly be in the matter, which accounts for the pine tree’s lack of definition. The being of the pine tree comes through the form, not the matter. Notice that it is the substantial form that give the pine tree its unity; otherwise it would simply be a collection of pine needles, branches, trunk, and roots. (Since the pine tree is a living thing, we may rightly call that substantial form its “soul,” understanding, of course, that it is not a spiritual soul.)

Between prime matter and substantial form, then, it is clearly the substantial form that provides the bulk of the intelligible contents of my pine tree. And it must be that substantial form that I grasped (however imperfectly) the first time I saw it, and immediately recognized it as a Pinus pinea.

Please, remember: the first time you saw a pinus pinea you did not recognize it as such, but just as a tree; and you did it thanks to the fact that you had a previous knowledge about many other trees, because of the many interactions you had had with them. Besides, someone else told you it was a pinus pinea.

Clearly, ever since that time, I have been filling in with knowledge of the various accidental forms. Notice, however, that the accidental forms are, so to speak, at the service of the substantial form. As I observed above, I never see shapeless blobs of green and brown, but a tree. When the tree grows up (it’s not currently tall enough for this), I will need to fend off its pine cones (which I know come from that tree), not simply random brown masses.

So that is the answer: the intelligible contents consists primarily in the tree’s substantial form; upon further reflection, I can see that I come to this contents by means of the tree’s accidental forms. And these accidental forms have a contents of their own, which is, however, always subordinate to the substantial form.

However, the notion that I have in my intellect is that of a whole and complete pine tree. If I examine that notion, I can observe that it contains virtually a whole series of more general notions: tree, plant, living thing, body, substance, being—and that hierarchy constitutes the basis for the genera and species to which it belongs.

I have put in red (in this and in the previous post) all what in your text refers to the “intelligibility” of the Thomistic substantial form (for the pinus pinea). Compared to the intelligibility that you can find in what you call “accidental forms”, it is nothing. Do you realize it?

The more general notions that you associate with the pine tree are not obtained by looking intensely and persistently at it, nor by examining “its notion”. You have obtained them by reading, among others, the Aristotelian-Thomistic texts. However, those notions could also be obtained by comparing a variety of material entities with the pine tree (including those that are very similar and those that are quite different from it). After 16 years of knowing pine trees and many other entities, you surely must be able to say something about the intelligibility of the “substantial form” of a pine tree which is not just that it is “a whole” that you can find in front of you. I presume you can certainly realize that the pine tree is a living being, but only after observing certain of its interactions (intrinsic and extrinsic), and comparing them with the interactions of other beings (both living and non-living).

Unless you say something else that proofs the contrary, I would affirm that what you have said so far only shows the plausibility of this statement: there is absolutely no intelligibility in substantial forms considered isolated from any other entities.

Best regards
JuanFlorencio