How do we come to know things?

[lmelahn]

I do not remember every scholastic maxim, but I do agree with this one. I agree with it to such extent that expressions like “I see by means of my eyes” sound misleading to me. The Aristotelian terminology coexists with many others, and in this case this expression resembles more the platonic doctrine about man than the Aristotelian one. I guess this is unavoidable in our everyday life, but I regard this use of language unacceptable for a philosopher.

Even though I mentioned that I was going to use ambiguous terminology, the ambiguity concerning a priori intuitions comes from Kant himself. It is him who refers to space and time as pure intuitions, a priori intuitions, representations, pure forms, a priori principles of our sensitivity.

OK. True enough. I re-checked the KRV, and I guess Kant does distinguish between empirical intuitions and “pure” intuitions.

Why is “I see by means of my eyes” misleading? I also know by means of my intellect, love by means of my will, eat by means of my nutritive faculties, walk by means of my muscles, and so on. That is how faculties work: we act my means of them. But the actions belongs to me, the subject who does them.

 

[lmelahn]

Is “to realize” equivalent to “to know” in English?

…]

Interactions do not exist without the elements that interact. I guess it is not necessary to say that if you hear the sound of a bell, and you look around you, you will find it (unless someone is trying to deceive you). The bell is the origin of many other interactions, besides the characteristic sound. The bell has many interaction modes, and it also interacts with you in different ways. When I say that we are among material objects I mean it. Who could reasonably deny it?

Fair enough.

I wouldn’t’ like to be answering a question that you had no intention to ask; so, I will need to clarify:

We interact with material entities around us (we don’t interact with interactions, but with material entities).
We have agreed that we know those entities through their interactions.

Note that what you call material entities, I have been calling material substances or supposits.

You have now accepted -though with certain reserves-, that our knowledge is an imitation of those interactions.

That is not exactly my position: our knowledge consists in an imitation of those material entities, or substances, as I have been calling them. We are not imitating with our intellects (as I see it) the interaction, so much as that which has produced those interactions.

However, in my view we need to understand imitation (the “similar” or homoios) as Aristotle understood it: as profound imitation, or even better, identity between intellect and thing known.

So, we are saying that our imitation of interactions allow us to know the material entities, which are the elements of those interactions.

Again, we seem to differ as to what is being imitated here, but let us continue…

Do we know our representations (imitations)? I respond: Only by means of a kind of reflection, which is not very common. Second, even if someone does reflect, most probably he will not regard his representations as imitations, but as a kind of copies of the objects.

OK. On this point, we do seem to be in agreement.

We can focus on some of those interactions too, and make efforts to understand them.

Let me put an example that perhaps you already know:

You have three buckets containing water. …]

I just comment that this is an interesting demonstration of the fact that things are received according to the manner of the recipient: quidquid recipitur, ad modum recipientis recipitur. I have done this experiment myself, and it is rather neat.

So, you interact with the water and then you make efforts to explain what is happening. This explanation is what I call “knowledge”, “relation”, or “imitation”. This knowledge allows you to predict what could happen in other circumstances. So, it proves to be powerful, but limited at the same time. This is also what Aristotle called Theory, but I am not sure if he was aware that it was actually not a “vision”, but a projection, and that as such it had an inherent weakness or limitation. Do you see it, Imelahn?

Best regards
JuanFlorencio

I think I am beginning to understand your terminology better.

I would consider both what you are calling “realization” and “relation” (if I understood these correctly) as “knowledge.” Both are acts of the intellect, but I agree that there is a subtle difference.

What you are calling “realization” is what Aristotle would call a “composition” or “division” (synthesis or diaeresis), like when I say (with my mind at least) “this thing (that I am seeing/hearing/touching, or all of the above) is a pine tree (or elephant, or proboscis monkey, or whatever it is). Or, to give an example of a “division,” when I say “this ring is not made of gold.”

It entails abstraction (the first act of the intellect) of all the notions involved, and relating the subject—most often, but not exclusively, the object I am perceiving—and the predicate—usually some universal notion.

A composition/division is properly an act of knowledge, a single act sustained by the intellect.

Now, suppose I make a lot of such acts regarding some subject; eventually I acquire what Aquinas calls a habit (for Aristotle, a hexis). That would be, if you will habitual knowledge: a “science” (episteme) in the classical sense of the word. (According to Aristote—and I agree with him—we don’t acquire that kind of habit until we investigate the causes of the things we study.)

So, what you are calling “relation” or “theory” (if I understood correctly), I would call habitual, scientific, or systematic knowledge (which all go together) of a thing. I am still not sure that is necessarily constructed (although I grant that scientific models—referring to the theories proposed by the modern empirical sciences—are constructed and in general provisional and approximate).

Note that the scientia actually helps us to produce acts of knowledge (composition/division): once I get some systematic knowledge of something, I have a much easier time learning more. (There is a strong analogy in Aristotle and Thomas between intellectual virtue—i.e., habitual knowledge—and moral virtue. The former helps us to produce true acts of the intellect; the latter helps us to produce good acts of the will.)

And that may have been one reason we were talking past one another: when I think “knowledge,” perhaps because of my Thomistic training, I tend to group together individual acts of knowledge (composition/division) with the habitual knowledge (scientia in the classical sense).

 

[lmelahn]

I found the phrase from Aristotle’s On the Soul that sums up his (and St. Thomas’) understanding of acts of knowledge:

Τὸ δ ̓ αὐτό ἐστιν ἡ κατ ̓ ἐνέπργειαν ἐπιστήμη τῷ πράγματι.

With respect to act, knowledge is the same as the thing (De anima, III, 7, 431a 1).

In other words, the act (as in “act and potency”) of our intellect (i.e., the form that is abstracted) is the very same act that is found in the thing known (the substantial or accidental form of the thing in question).

If we don’t admit this, we fall into the “problem of the bridge.” In short, how do we know that we can trust our knowledge? Is the “bridge” between the real world and the intentional world reliable?

Aristotle and St. Thomas don’t have to worry about that problem, because the real world (if you will) jumps right into our minds and imposes itself.

 

[JuanFlorencio]

Note that what you call material entities, I have been calling material substances or supposits.

Dear Imelahn:

Yes. Actually instead of “material entities”, I prefer to use the expression “elements of interactions”, but I wanted to come closer to you using an expression that I found in an English version of the Summa.

Just as an aside for what follows: the realm of interactions comprises the elements of interactions, and the interactions. The realm of relations comprises the elements of relations and the relations. Elements of interactions, interactions, and relations can be elements of relations (strange? Everything is “strange” in the beginning).

That is not exactly my position: our knowledge consists in an imitation of those material entities, or substances, as I have been calling them. We are not imitating with our intellects (as I see it) the interaction, so much as that which has produced those interactions.

However, in my view we need to understand imitation (the “similar” or homoios) as Aristotle understood it: as profound imitation, or even better, identity between intellect and thing known.

Sometimes, Imelahn, like when you -as a Thomist- say in another thread that there is a difference between “substance” and “supposit”, we find subtle differences between one thing and another, and we are led to use different expressions to refer to them. We become careful in the use of terms. But of course, there is always the possibility that we (one, another or everybody) are making mistakes.

There are some actors and actresses that work as imitators. Some will say that they imitate other persons; others will say that they imitate their attitudes and their actions. I think the last is more accurate. An imitator that is passionate about his work will desire to become the person he is imitating; but no matter how good he is, it will never happen.

What we call intellect is not able to become intentionally another substance (the substance it intends to know). Look attentively to the procedures that you follow. Look attentively to what Aristotle or St. Thomas, or anyone else, really do in their texts. To “understand something” they always need to compare. Sometimes it is easier to see the comparison, sometimes it is more difficult, but if you are attentive enough, you will finally see the comparison. To understand me, you have needed to compare me with Locke, with Aristotle, with St. Thomas, with Kant… This is how our intellect works. When someone talks about something new to us, we need to ask: “but what does it look like?” After a mystical experience, St. John of the Cross is not able to understand his experience because he cannot find anything comparable. He “understands without understanding”. Our intellect does not reach the point of identity where “A is A” (unless we are momentarily absorbed into the object, like in an aesthetic experience; only that it is not knowledge); strictly speaking we can only say “A is more or less like B”, and other person will say “no, A is more like C”, etcetera; or, in the cases of negative knowledge, we say “A is not like B”, or “For the most important part, A is not like C”, etcetera. Knowledge implies separation, not identity.

 

[JuanFlorencio]

I just comment that this is an interesting demonstration of the fact that things are received according to the manner of the recipient: quidquid recipitur, ad modum recipientis recipitur. I have done this experiment myself, and it is rather neat.

What does the experiment show? It all depends on how far you are willing to go. It is admirable how intense Aristotle was on his search for wisdom; and it is supposed that this strong desire is peculiar to philosophers in general. But as we go further in the development of our systems of relations, eventually we find that it is necessary to impose limits to them. There are points where we need to stop. If we continue, we could be forced to say things which we do not accept. What we had seen so far as “the truth” appears then like a pale shadow. Some decide to start again; others try to recreate their systems of relations adding new elements to them or eliminating some of them, and others tend to deny the interactions that cannot be properly imitated with their systems.

“Things are received according to the manner of the recipient”. Isn’t it clear that the origin of this maxim is a comparison? When we sense something we are interacting with it, we are in direct contact with it, we use it, we live with it; but we don’t receive it, unless it is a medicine, or food, or…, I don’t know. However, I understand you. I would say “we interact according to our interaction modes”. If each one of my hands have been temporarily affected in different ways they will exhibit different interaction modes with the same object (the warm water).

My intention with the experiment of the water buckets was to make it plausible for you that our knowledge is about interactions.

I think I am beginning to understand your terminology better.

I would consider both what you are calling “realization” and “relation” (if I understood these correctly) as “knowledge.” Both are acts of the intellect, but I agree that there is a subtle difference.

What you are calling “realization” is what Aristotle would call a “composition” or “division” (synthesis or diaeresis), like when I say (with my mind at least) “this thing (that I am seeing/hearing/touching, or all of the above) is a pine tree (or elephant, or proboscis monkey, or whatever it is). Or, to give an example of a “division,” when I say “this ring is not made of gold.”

It entails abstraction (the first act of the intellect) of all the notions involved, and relating the subject—most often, but not exclusively, the object I am perceiving—and the predicate—usually some universal notion.

A composition/division is properly an act of knowledge, a single act sustained by the intellect.

Now, suppose I make a lot of such acts regarding some subject; eventually I acquire what Aquinas calls a habit (for Aristotle, a hexis). That would be, if you will habitual knowledge: a “science” (episteme) in the classical sense of the word. (According to Aristote—and I agree with him—we don’t acquire that kind of habit until we investigate the causes of the things we study.)

So, what you are calling “relation” or “theory” (if I understood correctly), I would call habitual, scientific, or systematic knowledge (which all go together) of a thing. I am still not sure that is necessarily constructed (although I grant that scientific models—referring to the theories proposed by the modern empirical sciences—are constructed and in general provisional and approximate).

Note that the scientia actually helps us to produce acts of knowledge (composition/division): once I get some systematic knowledge of something, I have a much easier time learning more. (There is a strong analogy in Aristotle and Thomas between intellectual virtue—i.e., habitual knowledge—and moral virtue. The former helps us to produce true acts of the intellect; the latter helps us to produce good acts of the will.)

And that may have been one reason we were talking past one another: when I think “knowledge,” perhaps because of my Thomistic training, I tend to group together individual acts of knowledge (composition/division) with the habitual knowledge (scientia in the classical sense).

Absolutely, once you are familiar with a system of relations you are able to imitate a great number of interactions and, not without effort, you are able to add new relations. That is the intention of studying at the University. Once you get your doctorate, you will be able to produce new knowledge. The case of Hellen Keller that you have mentioned in one of your last posts is a beautiful and dramatic example of this too (by the way, I was surprised when I saw that even though you knew about Hellen Keller you did not mention language as a fundamental factor for knowledge in your first posts. You had the elements, but you had not established strong relations between them).

I tend to think that what I say is not difficult to grasp; but if you are already possessed by a language and you use it as an intellectual tool, so to say, you won’t be willing to abandon it to adopt another with which you are not familiar. It is understandable. However I can see that you have tried, and it shows how open minded you are.

A single case is enough to refute any universal proposition, Imelahn. So, please let me know which systematic knowledge is not constructed, in your opinion.

Kind regards
JuanFlorencio

 

[JuanFlorencio]

OK. True enough. I re-checked the KRV, and I guess Kant does distinguish between empirical intuitions and “pure” intuitions.

Why is “I see by means of my eyes” misleading? I also know by means of my intellect, love by means of my will, eat by means of my nutritive faculties, walk by means of my muscles, and so on. That is how faculties work: we act my means of them. But the actions belongs to me, the subject who does them.

It is misleading because it makes the reader think of “the body” as an instrument of “the soul”.

 

[JuanFlorencio]

I found the phrase from Aristotle’s On the Soul that sums up his (and St. Thomas’) understanding of acts of knowledge:

In other words, the act (as in “act and potency”) of our intellect (i.e., the form that is abstracted) is the very same act that is found in the thing known (the substantial or accidental form of the thing in question).

If we don’t admit this, we fall into the “problem of the bridge.” In short, how do we know that we can trust our knowledge? Is the “bridge” between the real world and the intentional world reliable?

Aristotle and St. Thomas don’t have to worry about that problem, because the real world (if you will) jumps right into our minds and imposes itself.

As I have said, Imelahn, we are in the world. Concerning interaction, there is no bridge between us and the world. But knowledge is quite another thing. Aristotle would have to be very worried because if he pretended that he got his knowledge about local movement, for instance, thanks to an impression imposed on him by the world, some of his propositions do not predict what we can experience. How would you explain that?

If I say that at low pressures and moderate temperatures the volume occupied by a gas in a container subject to constant pressure is directly proportional to its temperature, I can show it by experiment, and you will see how good or bad the assertion is because you and me live in the world. Was this knowledge imposed on Charles by the world? Not at all! He invented it, based on his interactions with gases in the laboratory. Is the law of Charles perfect? No, it is not; but engineers use it under certain conditions (and adding a conservative factor derived from their experience).

 

[lmelahn]

As I have said, Imelahn, we are in the world. Concerning interaction, there is no bridge between us and the world. But knowledge is quite another thing. Aristotle would have to be very worried because if he pretended that he got his knowledge about local movement, for instance, thanks to an impression imposed on him by the world, some of his propositions do not predict what we can experience. How would you explain that?

If I say that at low pressures and moderate temperatures the volume occupied by a gas in a container subject to constant pressure is directly proportional to its temperature, I can show it by experiment, and you will see how good or bad the assertion is because you and me live in the world. Was this knowledge imposed on Charles by the world? Not at all! He invented it, based on his interactions with gases in the laboratory. Is the law of Charles perfect? No, it is not; but engineers use it under certain conditions (and adding a conservative factor derived from their experience).

Well, I am not sure it isn’t imposed on him by the world. Charles heated up gasses and watched them expand. In general, the ratio between absolute temperature and volume remained constant. He did not invent that; that is a real property of gasses that approach ideality. Sure, the idea gas law is something of a human construction, but it is not arbitrary; rather it is abstracted and simplified from real data.

But anyway, Aristotle’s concern was at a much lower level: the act of composing or dividing. A chemist has to watch a balloon expand, or read dials, and so on—all those little acts that must be accomplished unerringly by the intellect, in order for us to have scientific knowledge. Then, through his reasoning power, he can put those individual judgments together and make a theory model (like the Idea Gas Law).

It is, however, on the level of abstraction and composing/dividing that this union of intellect to thing known occurs; not in the episteme that we acquire through reasoning (although the episteme does help us make better and more interesting judgments).

Aristotle’s basic metaphysical framework (act/potency, substance/accident, matter/form) is still fundamentally valid today. Some of his more derived conclusions (which are not so much philosophical as the experimental “physics” of his day) were wrong (like his famous statement that a heavier object falls faster than a lighter one, or his theory of celestial movement, or his theory of four elements).

 

[lmelahn]

It is misleading because it makes the reader think of “the body” as an instrument of “the soul”.

Well, that would be, in my opinion, a misunderstanding of what the body is, which is quite absent if we take a hylomorphic view of man. The body is not a “thing” that is “used” by the soul; rather, the soul has its home there, so to speak. The body is no more an “instrument” of the soul than the marble of the statue is an “instrument” of the statue’s geometric figure. Indeed, much less so.

I guess I did not quite mean “by means of” in that sense. Perhaps “through” or “with” would be a better choice of terms. In Latin you can render the idea perfectly with the ablative; in English, you have to choose prepositions that don’t quite convey the idea.

The eyes (or choose your faculty) are that with which we see (quibus videtur). They are not what sees (quod vidit), nor are they, obviously what is seen (quod videtur).

 

[JuanFlorencio]

Well, I am not sure it isn’t imposed on him by the world. Charles heated up gasses and watched them expand. In general, the ratio between absolute temperature and volume remained constant. He did not invent that; that is a real property of gasses that approach ideality. Sure, the idea gas law is something of a human construction, but it is not arbitrary; rather it is abstracted and simplified from real data.

But anyway, Aristotle’s concern was at a much lower level: the act of composing or dividing. A chemist has to watch a balloon expand, or read dials, and so on—all those little acts that must be accomplished unerringly by the intellect, in order for us to have scientific knowledge. Then, through his reasoning power, he can put those individual judgments together and make a theory model (like the Idea Gas Law).

It is, however, on the level of abstraction and composing/dividing that this union of intellect to thing known occurs; not in the episteme that we acquire through reasoning (although the episteme does help us make better and more interesting judgments).

Aristotle’s basic metaphysical framework (act/potency, substance/accident, matter/form) is still fundamentally valid today. Some of his more derived conclusions (which are not so much philosophical as the experimental “physics” of his day) were wrong (like his famous statement that a heavier object falls faster than a lighter one, or his theory of celestial movement, or his theory of four elements).

Dear Imelahn:

Starting with the experiment, the world did not impose on Charles the idea nor the desire to make it. He did a hard work trying to create a situation where he could observe a specific behavior of a number of different gases. Then he manipulated certain conditions, observed the results, and took notes of his measurements (nothing of these was imposed on him by the world). Once he got a certain amount of data, he worked with it and established certain relations. How could have the world imposed on Charles his final relation between temperature and volume for gases? Now, when I say that his relation was an invention, I was not saying that he did not have a reference. He was imitating something real. But his imitation is not perfect. You can have a look at the development of the state equation for gases, and I am sure you will realize how invention plays a fantastic role to develop our knowledge (understood not as identity, but as an imitation effort) of the world.

Is it possible to make mistakes during experimentation? Of course! We can do bad readings, bad modifications of experimental conditions…

Concerning division and composition, St. Thomas says (Summa, Part I, Question 85) that we can err when we divide and compose. Of course!

Is the Newtonian mechanics still valid today? Yes! Does it mean that it is not a construction? No! Well, the same applies for any other theory, the Aristotelian metaphysics included. Now, I remember that George Berkeley said that it would be impossible to derive false conclusions if we start with true premises, provided we follow a rigorous logical procedure. What do you think?

 

[lmelahn]

Dear Imelahn:

Starting with the experiment, the world did not impose on Charles the idea nor the desire to make it. He did a hard work trying to create a situation where he could observe a specific behavior of a number of different gases. Then he manipulated certain conditions, observed the results, and took notes of his measurements (nothing of these was imposed on him by the world). Once he got a certain amount of data, he worked with it and established certain relations. How could have the world imposed on Charles his final relation between temperature and volume for gases? Now, when I say that his relation was an invention, I was not saying that he did not have a reference. He was imitating something real. But his imitation is not perfect. You can have a look at the development of the state equation for gases, and I am sure you will realize how invention plays a fantastic role to develop our knowledge (understood not as identity, but as an imitation effort) of the world.

Is it possible to make mistakes during experimentation? Of course! We can do bad readings, bad modifications of experimental conditions…

Concerning division and composition, St. Thomas says (Summa, Part I, Question 85) that we can err when we divide and compose. Of course!

What Aquinas says is a little more complex than that. The most basic truths are infallibly known by the intellect. The knowledge that we get from our senses is fundamentally reliable: it is impossible for me to see a pine tree and think it is a tomato–not per se. (In a case like this, I might jump to a conclusion–like when we think we recognize someone, but it turns out to be someone else–but the error will never be gross, and nearly always correctable by further verification. I might also have been misinformed as to the words, but my concepts would be fundamentally correct.) However the most basic principles are always known infallibly, in the very act of using the intellect: like that a being exists, and that it cannot not exist simultaneously (the principle of non-contradiction). Or that the whole is greater than its parts, and so on.

(If you have not done so, I highly recommend reading the first question of De veritate, in which Aquinas talks about what truth is and how it works.)

Is the Newtonian mechanics still valid today? Yes! Does it mean that it is not a construction? No! Well, the same applies for any other theory, the Aristotelian metaphysics included.

If “construction” is basically a synonym for “reasoned argument” (and I think it could be, if that is taken in a broad sense), then I think we can be fundamentally in agreement.

Now, I remember that George Berkeley said that it would be impossible to derive false conclusions if we start with true premises, provided we follow a rigorous logical procedure. What do you think?

I agree with that proposition, as such–namely, that from true premises can only follow true conclusions–however, we would have to take into account that each science has its proper method (“science” in the classical sense, not restricted to the modern empirical sciences).

Some sciences are deductive, like logic and mathematics. You start with some postulates and axioms, and you proceed in practically by strict deductions. I think that the Moderns (both Rationalists and Empiricists–like Berkeley, even though ended up being a kind of idealist, as you know) had at the back of their minds the idea that the method of mathematics was to be applied to all sciences without exception. (That was certainly Descartes’ idea, and can’t think of any Modern philosopher who broke from that mold: Leibniz, Locke, Hume, Kant, Spinoza… and certainly if you include Newton and Galileo.)

That was their idea, but I think we can see fairly easily that it will not do: proving theorems about geometric figures is very different from doing experiments on masses and velocity, or on gases and their expansion; and this, in turn, is very different from metaphysics.

Neither mathematics nor metaphysics relies on experiment; but neither is Aristotle’s metaphysics a deductive science like mathematics. (Mathematics and metaphysics work the opposite way: mathematics starts from axioms and deduces conclusions; metaphysics starts with plain, undeniable facts and seeks their principles and causes.)

And the empirical sciences are largely inductive: you gather large numbers of data, and try to discover the order (laws) among them. (There is always some cross-breeding, so to speak: for instance, modern physics has a large mathematical component, obviously.)

That is why some sciences (like the empirical sciences) can be content with approximative models; but other sciences (e.g. metaphysics, mathematics, logic) are, so to speak, “exact” sciences. E.g., act and potency are not just a “model,” but part of the fundamental structure of created substances; whereas, say, the Ideal Gas Law is simply a model that helps us to make sense of a complex phenomenon (the behavior of gases).

(I remember the derivation we did of the Ideal Gas Law in physical chemistry class. I rather enjoyed it, but it is interesting how many assumptions are made to simplify the mathematics—e.g., that the volume of the individual particles is zero, that the collisions are elastic, and so on.)

 

[JuanFlorencio]

What Aquinas says is a little more complex than that. The most basic truths are infallibly known by the intellect. The knowledge that we get from our senses is fundamentally reliable: it is impossible for me to see a pine tree and think it is a tomato–not per se. (In a case like this, I might jump to a conclusion–like when we think we recognize someone, but it turns out to be someone else–but the error will never be gross, and nearly always correctable by further verification. I might also have been misinformed as to the words, but my concepts would be fundamentally correct.) However the most basic principles are always known infallibly, in the very act of using the intellect: like that a being exists, and that it cannot not exist simultaneously (the principle of non-contradiction). Or that the whole is greater than its parts, and so on.

(If you have not done so, I highly recommend reading the first question of De veritate, in which Aquinas talks about what truth is and how it works.)

Thank you for the recommendation, Imelahn. I will follow it.

In the Summa, Part I, Question 85, Article 6, Response to the objections St. Thomas says this: “The Philosopher says that falsehood is in the intellect in regard to composition and division…” There is no hidden or abstruse secret here, Imelahn. This is just what I said above.

Concerning the reliability of the “knowledge” that we get from our senses, let me go back to an example that I presented in my post #112: “One day that I was driving, I saw an ad about two hundred meters ahead of me. It was advertising a turkey ham that would help you develop a slim complexion. There was an image in the lower left part of the ad, but I could not identify it. As I was approaching the ad I felt uneasy because I could not figure out what the image was. Suddenly, I realized that it was part of a photograph showing the belly of an slim woman, wearing sports garments. I felt relieved.” There was something in the ad that I did not understand during the first moments. It was there, Imelahn, and I was looking at it; but it was meaningless. Let me present two additional examples, before I propose an explanation.

My mother told me an anecdote: she was coming back from the church accompanied by one of her friends. When they came to the point where they had to separate, her friend walked in the wrong direction. My mother asked her: “where are you going?”, and she said “home!”; “but your home is in the opposite direction”, said my mother. Her friend seemed so confused that my mother decided to take her till her house. As they were walking, her friend said that she could not recognize the places. It was until she saw a neighbor waving her hand at her that her confusion dissipated. Then she said, “oh! everything is ok now, I can go from here. How could this happen to me?” “Don’t worry- said my mother-, this kind of things happen to everybody from time to time”.

Other day I was training one of my engineers. In the morning I took her to a customer’s plant. I was guiding her but I just mentioned some generalities about the systems in the site. I allowed her to inspect as much as she wished. In our way back to the office I asked her what she had seen in the plant. She said, “a lot of stainless steel pipes!”. Once in the office, I spent some hours showing her the diagrams of the plant. Then, next morning we went there again, and I asked her to identify the systems. She was able to do it. I can tell you that instead of seeing just a lot of stainless steel pipes she began to see an intelligible system.

My explanation: when we move around in our world, we find in front of us much more than what it is really there. There is really nothing in the street that indicates us that we go in the right direction if we want to go home (but we act as if every necessary indication was “out there”). There is nothing in our customer’s plant that indicates us what is going on within its systems (but for some people, it is “obvious” what is happening). We contribute with a great part in each one of our experiences. You might say: “it is the essences that we have abstracted before”; but I was careful enough selecting my examples so that you could not fail saying this. No “essence” is related to any of the experiences above. When I suddenly realized that the mysterious form in the ad was the form of a woman, the part that was missing to fill it with sense did not come from the ad, but from me.

So, when you say that it would be impossible to take your pine tree as a tomato, and if it ever happens it could be corrected through further verification, I respond: it is possible indeed, and if you can correct it, it will not be thanks to the verification of something in your pine tree, but of something outside it.

On the other hand, I need to ask you what do you mean when you say that “The knowledge that we get from our senses is fundamentally reliable”. Do you mean that we normally seem to coincide with others? And, what do you think you get “through your senses”? (In concrete terms, please).

 

[JuanFlorencio]

If “construction” is basically a synonym for “reasoned argument” (and I think it could be, if that is taken in a broad sense), then I think we can be fundamentally in agreement.

You have remembered your physical chemistry class about the derivation of the ideal gas law. Was it just a “reasoned argument”? Obviously, there was reasoning in it; however you needed to contribute putting the dimensionless particles, with no attraction between them, with perfectly elastic collisions, etcetera.

No, Imelahn, “construction” is not only the “rules of construction”, it includes the bricks, the mortar, the paint, the windows, and everything else. But if you disagree, just an example will be enough to refute what I say. I would be happy to know such example.

I agree with that proposition, as such–namely, that from true premises can only follow true conclusions–however, we would have to take into account that each science has its proper method (“science” in the classical sense, not restricted to the modern empirical sciences).

The Aristotelian physics was a “science” in the classical sense; it was based on metaphysical principles that you accept as valid, and it was developed by the creator of Logic. What was missing then, Imelahn? Why did Aristotle fail?

Some sciences are deductive, like logic and mathematics. You start with some postulates and axioms, and you proceed in practically by strict deductions. I think that the Moderns (both Rationalists and Empiricists–like Berkeley, even though ended up being a kind of idealist, as you know) had at the back of their minds the idea that the method of mathematics was to be applied to all sciences without exception. (That was certainly Descartes’ idea, and can’t think of any Modern philosopher who broke from that mold: Leibniz, Locke, Hume, Kant, Spinoza… and certainly if you include Newton and Galileo.)

That was their idea, but I think we can see fairly easily that it will not do: proving theorems about geometric figures is very different from doing experiments on masses and velocity, or on gases and their expansion; and this, in turn, is very different from metaphysics.

Neither mathematics nor metaphysics relies on experiment; but neither is Aristotle’s metaphysics a deductive science like mathematics. (Mathematics and metaphysics work the opposite way: mathematics starts from axioms and deduces conclusions; metaphysics starts with plain, undeniable facts and seeks their principles and causes.)

And the empirical sciences are largely inductive: you gather large numbers of data, and try to discover the order (laws) among them. (There is always some cross-breeding, so to speak: for instance, modern physics has a large mathematical component, obviously.)

That is why some sciences (like the empirical sciences) can be content with approximative models; but other sciences (e.g. metaphysics, mathematics, logic) are, so to speak, “exact” sciences. E.g., act and potency are not just a “model,” but part of the fundamental structure of created substances; whereas, say, the Ideal Gas Law is simply a model that helps us to make sense of a complex phenomenon (the behavior of gases).

(I remember the derivation we did of the Ideal Gas Law in physical chemistry class. I rather enjoyed it, but it is interesting how many assumptions are made to simplify the mathematics—e.g., that the volume of the individual particles is zero, that the collisions are elastic, and so on.)

There is a great difference between those intellectual disciplines that deal with interactions (physics, chemistry…), and those that have to do with relations (logic and mathematics). Concerning metaphysics, I am very interested to know from you how a metaphysical conclusion has been derived starting with those plain and undeniable facts that you mention. Why don’t you try, for instance, with “prime matter”. What are the plain and undeniable facts that are the basis for this metaphysical “concept”? Please, show how the procedures to reach it are essentially different from those that are applied in modern science and those that are applied in mathematics.

Best regards, Imelahn.
JuanFlorencio

 

[lmelahn]

@JuanFlorencio:

There are an awful lot of things there, and I will probably forget some of them. However:

(1) Regarding judgments, senses, and errors (including those experiences you used as an example):

I realize that error, if there is any, is in the judgment (composition/division). Notice that St. Thomas goes on to say in the very same answer that error is not in the apprehension or in perception (which, if I understood correctly, is a position that you do not accept). I will have to hunt for it, but St. Thomas does hold that there are some judgments—all of the most basic principles that make thought possible—that cannot be erroneous. Also, the closer the judgment is to a mere statement of fact, the more reliable it is.

Before I go on, it is clear that essences (at least in Aristotle and Thomas) are not abstract ideas, but concrete things, right? I am an essence, as is the pine tree, as is the dog next door. For Aristotle and Thomas, there is no such thing as a nonexistent essence (for Bl. Duns Scotus, on the other hand, yes).

So it is not as if I have essences stored in my mind from past experiences; after my intellect works, the essences are still what they were before—the difference is that now I have apprehended them.

I have to say that your examples don’t convince me that our senses can deceive us. (And when I say they are infallible, that is what I mean: not that they always work, but that they never lie.) I have had many experiences similar to the ones you report.

I hope you will forgive me for doing this, but let me list out some of the essences that you (and the others) apprehended in these examples:

• The sign
• The turkey ham (it was not present, but real turkey ham was signified by the sign)
• The woman on the sign (likewise, she was not present, but a real woman was depicted on the sign).
• For the neighbor of your mother’s friend, who helped her to recognize her home.
• Her home, the street, etc.—even the things she did not recognize.
• For the new engineer, the steel of the pipes, etc.
• The diagrams.

In all of those cases, the persons involved at first had confused knowledge of the things (essences, substances) they saw, which got better and more detailed as they learned more.

(In the case of your mother’s friend, there was a failure to recognize her surroundings—which is done by the cogitative power—but a failure to function is not a deception.)

The senses report to us that which really is. What we apprehend from our sensation is reliable; as are simple “compositions (affirmations) that we derive from them. The problem occurs when we try to exercise our reason: it is easy for us to jump to conclusions—and in that, our will has a large role to play.

(2) Regarding why Aristotle came up with such a strange “physics” (for us moderns):

Modern physics is an empirical science that depends fundamentally on induction: on gathering lots of data, through observation and experimentation, and finding the relationships among them. It relies heavily on the hypothetical–deductive method: first you postulate a working hypothesis, and then you see whether that hypothesis can be confirmed or not. Hence it is inherently open-ended and “tentative.” That doesn‘t mean unreliable: it is just that it does not enjoy the degree of rigor and certainty that mathematics does, for example.

Aristotle’s metaphysics, on the other hand, uses a totally different method: analysis, or “resolution” or reality to its ultimate causes.

If Aristotle had a fault, it is that he did not distinguish well between his metaphysics of the natural world (where we discover intrinsic principles such as matter and form, substance and accident, and so on) from the description of the properties of physical substances (the closest thing that he had to our modern day “physics”). He can hardly be blamed for that, since no one had yet thought of the hypothetical–deductive method, and the other things we have now. That is why he feels free to speak authoritatively on the planets and stars and elements, even though he has very few experimental “data” to go on.

That does not take way from the perennial value of his properly philosophical work.

Metaphysical analysis (or “resolution”) always begins with the most concrete, indisputable facts we have: the material things (and the persons) that we see and interact with every day.

You mention prime matter. Obviously, we don’t have direct experience of prime matter; that shouldn’t surprise us, because prime matter is one of those ultimate causes (in this case, an intrinsic one). It is one of the very last things that we learn. Nevertheless, a careful analysis of even a single substance can show that it is composed of substance and accident; and (prime) matter and substantial form.

 

[Ignatius]

Actually, there is a whole branch of study on How we come to know things. Epistemology - derived from the Greek words for “knowledge” and “study of” is the study of how to distinguish justified knowledge vs. opinion. See www.iep.utm/epistemo/

 

[Nixbits]

Imelahn:

The knowledge that we get from our senses is fundamentally reliable

Imelahn, how does Aquinas deal with the following?

(a) A mirage in the desert or above a hot road surface. The viewer sees what looks like a body of water, but there is no water there. Refraction of light through air with a density gradient causes an image of the sky to appear on the ground.

(b) A stick partially submerged in water at an angle. A viewer will see a bent stick, but the stick is straight. Here it’s refraction at the boundary of two media with different refractive indexes that causes the illusion of a bent stick.

(c) A viewer is convinced that there is a speck of dirt on a piece of plain white paper. However many times the viewer tries to wipe off the speck it remains, or even seems to move about. The paper is entirely clean. The ‘speck’ is a floater in the vitreous humour of the viewer’s eye.

These are just a few examples that spring to mind where our visual sense can be entirely incorrect. It seems to me that, in these examples, to Aquinas’ way of thinking, the viewer ‘sees’ the essence of water, a bent stick and specks of dirt. In each case the viewer is deceived. Surely here the error is in the perception or apprehension. Or does Aquinas insist that the error is in the judgement? If so, can we clearly delineate the limits of each of these aspects of (in this case) vision?

 

[JuanFlorencio]

Of course I can forgive you, Imelahn ; however, honestly, you left me perplexed: you missed practically all the points and managed to leave my questions without an answer. Would it be possible for you to go back to my posts and answer them?

I know that when a person has built or adopted a system of relations he becomes able to “see” things in a very characteristic way (no judgement activity involved; it is “only” that he becomes sophisticated; his perception becomes sophisticated and habitual); and I also know that the same system of relations prevents him from establishing certain other new relations. In the examples I presented there is no judgement involved in what is relevant to them: I suddenly recognized the image in the ad as a woman’s body without any judgement (it comes immediately after: “oh, it is a woman!”, but the emergence of a “sense” is the necessary condition for it); my mother’s friend did not lose her ability to judge when she did not recognize her way home; but there was a physiological anomaly in her that produced her temporary symptoms; though my engineer acquired the ability to make new judgements, the relevant point is that she became able to perceive certain objects as peculiar systems (again, without a judgement involved; judgements come immediately after but not necessarily every time she is in the plant. She becomes sophisticated). I think we can see the sophistication that I am mentioning as a kind of peculiar integration into our surroundings which makes it possible for us and our surroundings to operate as a system.

I will come back later.

Best regards, Imelahn
JuanFlorencio

 

[JuanFlorencio]

I have to say that your examples don’t convince me that our senses can deceive us. (And when I say they are infallible, that is what I mean: not that they always work, but that they never lie.) I have had many experiences similar to the ones you report.

In all of those cases, the persons involved at first had confused knowledge of the things (essences, substances) they saw, which got better and more detailed as they learned more.

(In the case of your mother’s friend, there was a failure to recognize her surroundings—which is done by the cogitative power—but a failure to function is not a deception.)

The senses report to us that which really is. What we apprehend from our sensation is reliable; as are simple “compositions” (affirmations) that we derive from them. The problem occurs when we try to exercise our reason: it is easy for us to jump to conclusions—and in that, our will has a large role to play.

Dear Imelahn:

Some years ago, I had a car which did not deceive me, but which was not reliable. Can it be? Yes, it can be! Our “senses” might not deceive us, if you want, but they are not always reliable. And the discussion was precisely about reliability, wasn’t it? And there are extreme cases, like in schizophrenia, in which people definitely have an anomalous perception of the world. I really don’t think Aristotle -without any blame on him, Imelahn! (I don’t know why I have to say this; I think it should be obvious)- had the chance to see enough about perception during his life. His ideas need to be improved.

Do our senses report to us that which really is? We know that there exist some interactions which our “senses” do not report to us (like magnetism and certain wavelengths). Also, the other day BlueHorizon proposed in another thread the example of a beam of neutrons that can pass through a wall as if it was traveling through empty space, and he argued that what we see as solids are in reality basically empty space. I think that his conclusion was not correct, but at least I concede that our “senses” do not report to us the neutron beam passing through the wall. So, our senses do not report to us that which really is.

But maybe you wanted to say, for example, that if we see your pinus pinea we will see it green, and that it is really green. But that is so because, among other factors, it is illuminated with white light. If it were illuminated with other light it wouldn’t really be green. What is the “real reality”?

I have mentioned several times something that I believe is very simple: We are in the world, and we interact with material objects. We use to promote interactions looking for a determined result. It is possible that we get what we are looking for, or something similar, or something very different from what we wish. We are not infallible.

Best regards
JuanFlorencio

 

[lmelahn]

Imelahn, how does Aquinas deal with the following?

(a) A mirage in the desert or above a hot road surface. The viewer sees what looks like a body of water, but there is no water there. Refraction of light through air with a density gradient causes an image of the sky to appear on the ground.

(b) A stick partially submerged in water at an angle. A viewer will see a bent stick, but the stick is straight. Here it’s refraction at the boundary of two media with different refractive indexes that causes the illusion of a bent stick.

(c) A viewer is convinced that there is a speck of dirt on a piece of plain white paper. However many times the viewer tries to wipe off the speck it remains, or even seems to move about. The paper is entirely clean. The ‘speck’ is a floater in the vitreous humour of the viewer’s eye.

These are just a few examples that spring to mind where our visual sense can be entirely incorrect. It seems to me that, in these examples, to Aquinas’ way of thinking, the viewer ‘sees’ the essence of water, a bent stick and specks of dirt. In each case the viewer is deceived. Surely here the error is in the perception or apprehension. Or does Aquinas insist that the error is in the judgement? If so, can we clearly delineate the limits of each of these aspects of (in this case) vision?

Those are actually rather simple to answer.

First of all, they aren’t really errors; they are just phenomena that are slightly atypical, some of which could lead to an error.

If there is an error, it is not really in the perception or the apprehension, but in the judgment.

Just so we are on the same page: perception is the act by which we collect sensual data and assemble it into a coherent whole (this is something that even animals do); the apprehension is the act by which we learn what something is; judgment (actually called by Aquinas “composition and division”) is the act by which we say, in essence, “this thing that I have apprehended really exists (or does not exist) in the way I have apprehended it.”

Let’s look at each example.

(1) The problem is not with the viewer’s sensual apparatus, because there are real light rays that are reflected off the sand or asphalt (and refracted by the hot air that flows off it). Hence, it turns out that hot sand (or asphalt) can produce an visual effect that is similar to that of water. That is, however, a real property of hot sand or asphalt.

The problem is not really in the apprehension, either: we always learn about things from the outside in, so to speak—first the most general aspects about it, and only later the specifics.

So when someone sees a mirage for the first time, he sees something shimmering in the distance. Up to there, that is all he knows: that there is something in the distance that (from his perspective) is shiny. If he were to stop there, there would be no error. So far, his senses have done their job, as has his agent intellect, and the first spontaneous judgments are all good.

A mirage is not really an “error” unless someone thinks it is really water. It occurs when we jump to conclusions, especially when we engage in wishful thinking (as with someone who is lost in the desert). With our wills, we can cause our intellect to do stupid things.

If someone knows mirages are simply a natural effect of hot sand, (or if he does not know, but he refrains from jumping to conclusions) then he is not deceived at all. His senses, apprehension, and judgment have all worked correctly.

Note that there is an easy way to learn the truth: it is sufficient to arrive at the place where one sees the mirage, to see whether there is sand there, or water.

(2) The bent stick. Again, our eyes report exactly what the light tells them. If the light has been refracted by the water, then it will hit our eyes only after the refraction. There is no error involved; it would be an error to see the stick as straight.

There would only be an “error” if someone were to think that the stick were actually broken, but again, such an error can be easily removed by examining the stick more closely (e.g., by feeling it with your hand).

(3) The spot in the vitreous humor. Again, our eyes report exactly the data that are given to them. The fact that we are seeing (indirectly) something that is actually in our eyes doesn’t mean that the eyes are malfunctioning. Even if were (for example, in people with color blindness), they would simply be functioning poorly, not deceiving us. (People with red-green color blindness cannot distinguish between red and green; but they don’t invent colors that don’t exist.)

It is true that we could easily mistake a speck in the vitreous humor for a speck of dust on paper. However, that mistake is essentially a jump to a conclusion. It is, however, easily dissipated by moving the paper around and thus discovering that the speck is in our eyes, not on the paper.

Thomas is not saying that our senses always work perfectly; only that they don’t deceive us. They report that which really is (however imperfectly they do so).

(Notice how each one of these “errors” can be easily corrected by further examination, and it does not require a degree in physics, either.)

 

[lmelahn]

Of course I can forgive you, Imelahn ; however, honestly, you left me perplexed: you missed practically all the points and managed to leave my questions without an answer. Would it be possible for you to go back to my posts and answer them?

I know that when a person has built or adopted a system of relations he becomes able to “see” things in a very characteristic way (no judgement activity involved; it is “only” that he becomes sophisticated; his perception becomes sophisticated and habitual); and I also know that the same system of relations prevents him from establishing certain other new relations. In the examples I presented there is no judgement involved in what is relevant to them: I suddenly recognized the image in the ad as a woman’s body without any judgement (it comes immediately after: “oh, it is a woman!”, but the emergence of a “sense” is the necessary condition for it); my mother’s friend did not lose her ability to judge when she did not recognize her way home; but there was a physiological anomaly in her that produced her temporary symptoms; though my engineer acquired the ability to make new judgements, the relevant point is that she became able to perceive certain objects as peculiar systems (again, without a judgement involved; judgements come immediately after but not necessarily every time she is in the plant. She becomes sophisticated). I think we can see the sophistication that I am mentioning as a kind of peculiar integration into our surroundings which makes it possible for us and our surroundings to operate as a system.

I will come back later.

Best regards, Imelahn
JuanFlorencio

Hm… If you say you can recognize a woman’s body without making a judgment, then we must mean two different things by “judgment.”

In Aquinas, the “judgment” (he never uses that term, as I said, but “composition and division;” however, his commentators did use the term) is the act by which we grasp that the things we have apprehended really exist in the world (or really do not exist). So simple recognition (or denial), for Aquinas, is already a composition (or division).

“Oh, it is a woman” is a composition. (Technically it is an “enunciation,” which is the verbal expression of a composition or division.)

Hence, I am seeing judgments (Aquinas’ compositions/divisions) every step of the way, here.

What do you mean by “judgment”?